THE Constant Couple; OR A Trip to the Jubilee.  
A COMEDY Acted at the Theatre-Royal in Drury-Lane, By His Majesty's Servants.  
By Mr. GEORGE FARQUHAR,  
Sive favore tuli, sive hanc ego carmine famam  
Iure tibi grates, candid lector, ago.  Ovid. Trist. lib. 4. Eleg. 10. 
LONDON; Printed for Ralph Smith at the Bible under the Piazza of the Royal Exchange, Cornhill; and Bennet Banbury at the Blue Anchor in the New Exchange in the Strand. 1700.   

To the Honourable Sir ROGER MOSTYN Baronet, Of Mostyn-Hall in Flintshire.  
SIR,  
'TIS no small Reflection on Pieces of this nature, that Panegyric is so much improved, and that Dedication is grown more an Art than Poetry; that Authors, to make their Patrons more than Men, make themselves less; and that Persons of Honour are forced to decline patronising Wit, because their Modesty cannot bear the gross Strokes of Adulation.  
But give me leave to say, Sir, that I am too young an Author to have learned the Art of Flattery; and, I hope, the same Modesty which recommended this Play to the World, will also reconcile my Addresses to You, of whom I can say nothing but what your Merits may warrant, and all that have the honour of your Acquaintance will be proud to vindicate.  
The greatest Panegyric upon you, Sir, is the unprejudiced and bare Truth of Your Character, the Fire of Youth, with the Sedateness of a Senator, and the Modern gaiety of a fine English Gentleman, with the noble Solidity of the Ancient Britton.  
This is the Character, Sir, which all men, but yourself, are proud to publish of You, and which more celebrated Pens than mine should transmit to Posterity.  
The Play has had some noble Appearances to honour its Representation; and to complete the Success, I have presumed to prefix so Noble a Name to usher it into the World. A stately Frontispiece is the Beauty of a Building. But here I must transverse Ovid: 
Materia superabit Opus.   
I am, Honourable Sir, Your most Devoted, and Humble Servant, Geo. Farquhar.   

PREFACE to the READER.  
AN affected Modesty is very often the greatest Vanity, and Authors are sometimes prouder of their Blushes than of the Prayers that occasioned them. I shan't therefore, like a foolish Vigin, fly to be pursued, and deny what I chiefly wish for. I am very willing to acknowledge the Beauties of this Play, especially those of the third Night, which not to be proud of, were the height of Impudence: Who is ashamed to value himself upon such Favours, undervalues those who conferred them.  
As I freely submit to the Criticisms of the judicious, so I cannot call this an ill Play, since the Town has allowed it such Success. When they have pardoned my faults, 'twere very ill manners to condemn their Indulgence. Some may think (my Acquaintance in Town being too slender to make a Party for the Play) that the Success must be derived from the pure Merits of the Cause. I am of another opinion: I have not been long enough in Town to raise Enemies against me; and the English are still kind to Strangers. I am below the Envy of great Wits, and above the Malice of little ones. I have not displeased the Ladies, nor offended the Clergy; both which are now pleased to say, that a Comedy may be diverting without Smut and Profaneness.  
Next to these Advantages, the Beauties of Action gave the greatest life to the Play, of which the Town is so sensible, that all will join with me in commendation of the Actors, and allow (without detracting from the merit of others) that the Theatre Royal affords an excellent and complete set of Comedians. Mr. Wilks' performance has set him so far above competition in the part of Wildair, that none can pretend to envy the Praise due to his Merit. That he made the Part, will appear from hence, that whenever the Stage has the misfortune to lose him, Sir Harry Wildair may go to the jubilee.  
A great many quarrel at the Trip to the Jubilee for a Misnommer: I must tell them that perhaps there are greater Trips in the Play; and when I find that more exact Plays have had better success. I'll talk with the Critics about Decorums, etc. However, if I ever commit another fault of this nature, I'll endeavour to make it more excusable.   

PROLOGUE, by a Friend.  
POET'S will think nothing so checks their Fury,  
As Wits, Cits, Beaux, and Women for their Jury.  
Our Spark's half dead to think what Medly's come,  
With blended Judgements to pronounce his Doom.  
'Tis all false Fear; for in a mingled Pit,  
Why, what your grave Don thinks but dully writ,  
His Neighbour i'th' great Wig may take for Wit.  
Some Author's court the Few, the Wise, if any;  
Our Youth's content, if he can reach the Many,  
Who go with much like Ends to-Church, and Play,  
Not to observe what Priests or Poets say,  
No! no! your Thoughts, like theirs, lie quite another way.  
The Ladies safe may smile: for here's no Slander,  
No Smut, no lewd-tongued Beau, no double Entendre.  
'Tis true he has a Spark just come from France,  
But then so far from Beau— why he talks Sense!  
Like Coin out carried out, but— seldom brought from thence.  
There's yet a Gang to whom our Spark submits,  
Your Elbow-shaking Fool, that lives by's Wits,  
That's only witty tho, just as he lives by fits.  
Who Lion-like through Bailiffs scours away,  
Hunts in the Face a Dinner all the Day,  
At Night with empty Bowels grumbles o'er the Play.  
And now the modish Prentice he implores,  
Who with his Master's Cash stolen out of Doors,  
Employs it on a Brace of— Honourable Whores;  
While their good bulky Mother pleased sits by,  
Bawd Regent of the Bubble Gallery.  
Next to our mounted Friends we humbly move,  
Who all your Side-box Tricks are much above,  
And never fail to pay us— with your Love.  
Ah Friends! Poor Dorse● Garden-house is gone,  
Our merry Meetings there are all undone:  
Quite lost to us, sure for some strange Misdeeds  
That strong Dog Sampson's pulled it o'er our Heads,  
Snaps Rope like Thread; but when his Fortune's told him,  
He'll hear perhaps of Rope will one day hold him:  
At least I hope that our good-natured Town  
Will find a way to pull his Prizes down.  
Well, that's all! Now Gentlemen for the Play,  
On second Thoughts I've but two words to say;  
Such as it is for your Delight designed,  
Hear it, read, try, judge, and speak as you find.   

EPILOGUE,  spoken by Mr. Wilks. 
NOW all depart, each his respective way,  
To spend an Evening's Chatt upon the Play;  
Some to Hippolito's, one homeward goes,  
And one with loving she retires to th' Rose.  
The amorous Pair in all things frank and free,  
Perhaps may save the Play, in number three.  
The tearing Spark, if Phillis ought gainsays,  
Breaks th' Drawer's Head, kicks her, and murders Bays.  
To Coffee some retreat to save their Pockets,  
Others more generous damn the Play at Lockets.  
But there, I hope, the Author's Fears are vain.  
Malice ne'er spoke in generous Champain.  
That Poet merits an ignoble Death,  
Who fears to fall over a brave Monteth.  
The Privilege of Wine we only ask,  
You'll taste again, before you damn the Flask.  
Our Author fears not you; but those he may  
Who in cold Blood, murder a Man in Ten.  
Those Men of Spleen, who fond the World should know it,  
Sit down, and for their two pence damn a Poet.  
Their Criticism's good, that we can say fort't,  
They understand a Play— too well to pay for't.  
From Box to Stage, from Stage to Box they run,  
First steal the Play, then damn it when they've done.  
But now to know what Fate may us betide,  
Among our Friends in Cornhill and Cheapside:  
But those I think have but one Rule for Plays;  
They'll say they're good, if so the World says.  
If it should please them, and their Spouses know it,  
They straight inquire what kind of Man's the Poet.  
But from Side-box we dread a fearful Doom,  
All the good-natured Beaux are gone to Rome.  
The Ladies Censure I'd almost forgot,  
Then for a Line or two t' engage their Vote:  
But that way's old, below our Author's Aim,  
No less than his whole Play is Compliment to them.  
For their sakes then the Play can't miss succeeding,  
Tho Critics may want Wit, they have good Breeding.  
They won't, I'm sure, forfeit the Lady's Graces,  
By showing their ill-nature to their Faces.  
Our Business with good Manners may be done,  
Flatter us here, and damn us when you're gone.   

Dramatis Persona.  
Sir Harry Wildair An airy Gentleman affecting humourous gaiety and Freedom in his Behaviour. Mr. Wilks. Standard A disbanded Colonel, brave and generous. Mr. Powel. Vizard Outwardly pious, otherwise a great Debauchee, and villainous. Mr. Mills. Smuggler An old Merchant. Mr. johnson. Clincher A pert London Prentice turned Beau, and affecting Travel. Mr. Pinkethman. Clincher jun. His Brother, educated in the Country. Mr. Bullock. Dicky his Man  Mr. Norris. Tom Errand, a Porter  Mr. Haines.  
WOMEN.  
Lurewell A Lady of a jilting Temper proceeding from a resentment of her Wrongs from Men. Mrs. Verbruggen. Lady Darling An old Lady Mother to Angelica. Mrs. Powel. Angelica A Woman of Honour. Mrs. Rogers. Parley Maid to Lurewell. Mrs Moor.  
Constable, Mob, Porter's Wife, Servants, etc.  
SCENE, London.   

THE Constant Couple.  

ACT I.  

SCENE, The Park.  Enter Vizard with a Letter, Servant following. Vizard. 
ANGELICA send it back unopened! say you?  Servant. 
As you see, Sir.  Viz. 
The Pride of these virtuous Women is more insufferable, than the immodesty of Prostitutes— After all my Encouragement to slight me thus!  Seru. 
She said, Sir, that imagining your Morals sincere, she gave you access to her Conversation; but that your late Behaviour in her Company has convinced her, that your Love and Religion are both Hypocrisy, and that she believes your Letter like yourself, fair on the outside, foul within; so sent it back unopened.  Viz. 
May Obstinacy guard her Beauty till Wrinkles bury it, then may Desire prevail to make her curse that untimely Pride her disappointed Age repents— I'll be revenged the very first opportunity— Saw you the old Lady Darling, her Mother?  Seru. 
Yes, Sir, and she was pleased to say much in your Commendation.  Viz. 
That's my Cue— An Esteem grafted in old Age is hardly  
Rooted out, Years stiffen their Opinions with their Bodies,  
And old Zeal is only to be cozened by young Hypocrisy—  
Run to the Lady Lurewells, and know of her Maid,  
Whether her Ladyship will be at home this Evening,  
Her Beauty is sufficient Cure for Angelica's Scorn. Exit Servant.  (Viz. pulls out a Book, reads, and walks about.) Enter Smuggler. Smug. 
Ay, there's a Pattern for the young Men o'th' times, at his Meditation so early, some Book of pious Ejaculations, I'm sure.  Viz. 
This Hobbs is an excellent Fellow! (aside) O Uncle Smuggler! to find you in this end o'th' Town is a Miracle.  Smug. 
I have seen a Miracle this Morning indeed, Cousin Vizard.  Viz. 
What was it, pray Sir?  Smug. 
A Man at his Devotion so near the Court— I'm very glad Boy, that you keep your Sanctity untainted in this infectious place; the very Air of this Park is heathenish, and every Man's Breath I meet scents of Atheism.  Viz. 
Surely Sir, some great Concern must bring you to this unsanctified end of the Town.  Smug. 
A very unsanctifyed Concern, truly Cousin.  Viz. 
What is't?  Smug. 
A Lawsuit, Boy— Shall I tell you?— My Ship the Swan is newly arrived from St. Sebastian's, laden with Portugal Wines: Now the impudent Rogue of a Tide-waiter has the face to affirm, 'tis French Wines in Spanish Casks, and has indicted me upon the Statute— O Conscience, Conscience! These Tide waiters and Surveyors plague us more with their French Wines, than the War did with French Privateers— Ay, there's another Plague of the Nation—.  Enter Colonel Standards 
A red Coat and Feather.  Viz. 
Col. Standard, I'm your humble Servant.  Stand. 
May be not, Sir.  Viz. 
Why so?  Stand. 
Because— I'm disbanded.  Viz. 
How? broke!  Stand. 
This very morning, in Hide Park, my brave Regiment, a thousand Men that looked like Lions yesterday, were scattered, and looked as poor and simple as the Herd of Deer that gazed beside 'em.  Smug. 
Tal, all, deral (singing) I'll have a Bonfire this night as high as the Monument.  Stand. 
A Bonfire! thou dry, withered, ill nature; had not these brave Fellows Swords defended you, your House had been a Bonfire ere this about your Ears— Did not we venture our Lives, Sir?  Smug. 
And did not we pay you for your Lives, Sir?— Venture your Lives! I'm sure we ventured our Money, and that's Life and Soul to me— Sir, we'll maintain you no longer.  Stand. 
Then your Wives shall, old Action: There are five and thirty strapping Officers gone this Morning to live upon free Quarter in the City.  Smug. 
O Lord! O Lord! I shall have a Son within these nine Months born with a Leading staff in his hand— Sir, you are—  Stand. 
What Sir?  Smug. 
Sir, I say that you are—  Stand. 
What Sir?  Smug. 
Disbanded Sir, that's all— I see my Lawyer yonder. Exit.  Viz. 
Sir, I'm very sorry for your Misfortune.  Stand. 
Why so? I don't come to borrow Money of you; if you're my Friend, meet me this Evening at the Rummer, I'll pay my Way, drink a Health to my King, Prosperity to my Country; and away for Hungary to morrow Morning.  Viz. 
What! you won't leave us?  Stand. 
What! a Soldier stay here! to look like an old pair of Colours in Westminster-Hall, ragged and rusty! No, no— I met yersterday a broken Lieutenant, he was ashamed to own that he wanted a Dinner, but begged eighteen pence of me to buy a new sheath for his Sword.  Viz. 
O, but you have good Friends, Colonel!  Stan. 
O very good Friends! my Father's a Lord, and my elder Brother a Beau.  Viz. 
But your Country may perhaps want your Sword again.  Stand. 
Nay for that matter, let but a single Drum beat up for Volunteers between Ludgate and Charing-Cross, and I shall undoubtedly hear it at the Walls of Buda.  Viz. 
Come, come, Colonel, there are ways of making your Fortune at home— Make your Addresses to the Fair, you're a Man of Honour and Courage.  Stand. 
Ay, my Courage is like to do me wondrous Service with the Fair: This pretty cross Cut over my Eye will attract a Duchess— I warrant 'twill be a mighty Grace to my Ogling— Had I used the Stratagem of a certain Brother Colonel of mine, I might succeed.  Viz. 
What was it, pray?  Stand. 
Why to save his pretty face for the Women, he always turned his back upon the Enemy— He was a Man of Honour for the Ladies.  Viz. 
Come, come, the Loves of Mars and Venus will never fail, you must get a Mistress.  Stand. 
Prithee, no more on't— You have awakened a thought, from which and the Kingdom I would have stolen away at once— To be plain, I have a Mistress.  Viz. 
And She's cruel?  Stand. 
No.  Viz. 
Her Parents prevent your Happiness.  Stand. 
Nor that.  Viz. 
Then she has no Fortune.  Stand. 
A large one, Beauty to tempt all Mankind, and Virtue to beat off their Assaults. O Vizard! such a Creature!— hay Day! Who the Devil have we here?  Viz. 
The Joy of the Playhouse, and Life of the Park, (Enter Sir Harry Wildair, crosses the Stage singing, with Footmen after him.) Sir Harry Wildair newly come from Paris.  Stand. 
Sir Harry Wildair! Did not he make a Campain in Flanders some three or four years ago?  Viz. 
The same.  Stand. 
Why, he behaved himself very bravely.  Viz. 
Why not? Dost think Bravery and Gaiety are inconsistent? He's a Gentleman of most happy Circumstances, born to a plentiful Estate, has had a genteel and easy Education, free from the rigidness of Teachers, and Pedantry of Schools. His florid Constitution being never ruffled by misfortune, nor stinted in its Pleasures, has rendered him entertaining to others, and easy to himself— Turning all Passion into Gaiety of Humour, by which he chooses rather to rejoice his Friends, than be hated by any; as you shall see.  Enter Wildair. Wild. 
Ha Vizard!  Viz. 
Sir Harry!  Wild. 
Who thought to find you out of the Rubric so long; I thought thy Hypocrisy had been wedded to a Pulpit Cushion long ago— Sir, if I mistake not your Face, your Name is Standard.  Stand. 
Sir Harry, I'm your Humble Servant.  Wild. 
Come, Gentlemen, the News, the News o'th' Town; For I'm just arrived.  Viz. 
Why, in the City end o'th' Town we're playing the Knave to get Estates.  Stand. 
And in the Court end playing the Fool in spending 'em.  Wild. 
Just so in Paris; I'm glad we're grown so modish.  Viz. 
We are all so reformed, that Gallantry is taken for Vice.  Stand. 
And Hypocrisy for Religion.  Wild. 
Alamode de Paris. Agen.  Viz. 
Not one Whore between Ludgate and Aldgate.  Stand. 
But ten times more Cuckolds than ever.  Viz. 
Nothing like an Oath in the City.  Stand. 
That's a mistake; for my Major swore a hundred and fifty last night to a Merchant's Wife in her Bedchamber.  Wild. 
P'shaw, this is trifling, tell me News, Gentlemen. What Lord has lately broke his Fortune at the Groomporters? or his Heart at Newmarket, for the loss of a Race? What Wise has been lately suing in Doctors-Commons for Alimony? or what Daughter run away with her Fathers Valet? What Beau gave the noblest Ball at the Bath, or had the finest Watch in the Ring? I want News, Gentlemen.  Stand. 
Faith, Sir, these are no News at all.  Viz. 
But pray, Sir Harry tell us some News of your Travels.  Wild. 
With all my heart— You must know then, I went over to Amsterdam in a Dutch Ship; I there had a Dutch Whore for five Stivers: I went from thence to ●anden, where I was heartily drubbed in the Battle with the butt-end of a Swiss Musket. I thence went to Paris, where I had half a dozen Intrigues, bought half a dozen new Suits, fought a couple of Duels, and here I am again in statu quo.  Viz. 
But we heard that you designed to make the Tour of Italy; what brought you back so soon?  Wild. 
That which brought you into the World, and may perhaps carry you out of it; a Woman.  Stand. 
What! Quit the Pleasures of Travel for a Woman!—  Wild. 
Ay, Colonel, for such a Woman! I had rather see her rule than the Palace of Lewis le Grand: There's more Glory in her Smile, than in the jubilee at Rome; and I would rather kiss her Hand than the Pope's Toe.  Viz. 
You, Colonel, have been very lavish in the Beauty and Virtue of your Mistress; and Sir Harry here has been no less eloquent in the Praise of his Now will I lay you both ten Guineas a piece, that neither of them is so pretty so witty, or so virtuous as mine.  Stand. 
'Tis done.  Wild. 
I'll double the Stakes— But, Gentlemen, now I think on't, how shall we be resolved? for I know not where my Mistress may be found; she left Paris about a month before me, and I had an account—  Stand. 
How, Sir! left Paris about a month before you!  Wild. 
Yes, Sir, and I had an account that she lodged somewhere in St. James'.  Viz. 
How is thate Sir? Somewhere in St. James', say you?  Wild. 
Ay, but I know not where, and perhaps mayn't find her this fortnight.  Stand. 
Her Name, pray, Sir Harry.  Viz. 
Ay, ay, her Name● perhaps we know her.  Wild. 
Her Name! Ay— She has the softest, whitest Hand that ever was made of Flesh and Blood, her Lips so balmy sweet.  Stand. 
But her Name, Sir.  Wild. 
Then her Neck and Breast;— her Breast do so heave, so heave. Singing.  Viz. 
But her Name, Sir, her Quality?  Wild. 
Then her Shape, Colonel.  Stan. 
But her Name I want, Sir,  Wild. 
Then her Eyes, Vizard!  Stan. 
P'shaw, Sir Harry, her Name, or nothing.  Wild. 
Then if you must have it, she's called the Lady— But then her Foot, Gentlemen, she dances to a miracle. Vizard, you have certainly lost your Wager.  Viz. 
Why you have lost your Senses; we shall never discover the Picture unless you subscribe the Name.  Wild. 
Then her Name is Lurewell.  Stand. 
'Sdeath, My Mistress. Aside.  Viz. 
My Mistress by jupiter. Aside.  Wild. 
Do you know her, Gentlemen?  Stand. 
I have seen her, Sir.  Wild. 
Canst tell where she lodges? Tell me, dear Colonel.  Stand. 
Your humble Servant, Sir. Exit Stand.  Wild. 
Nay, hold Colonel, I'll follow you, and will know. Runs out.  Viz. 
The Lady Lurewell his Mistress! He loves her. But she loves me— but he's a Baronet, and I plain Vizard; he has Coach and six, and I walk a foot; I was bred in London, and he in Paris— That very Circumstance has murdered me— Then some Stratagem must be laid to divert his Pretensions.  Re enter Wildair. Wild. 
Prithee, Dick, what makes the Colonel so out of humour?  Viz. 
Because he's out of Pay, I suppose.  Wild. 
'Slife that's true, I was beginning to mistrust some Rivalship in the Case.  Viz. 
And suppose there were, you know the Colonel can fight, Sir Harry.  Wild. 
Fight! Pshaw! but he can't dance, ha! We contend for a Woman, Vizard! 'Slife man, if Ladies were to be gained by Sword and Pistol only, what the Devil should all the Beaux do?  Viz. 
I'll try him farther (Aside.) But would not you, Sir Harry, fight for this Woman you so admire?  Wild. 
Fight! Let me consider. I love her, that's true— but then I love honest Sir Harry Wildair better. The Lady Lurewell is divinely charming— right— but then a Thrust i'th' Guts, or a Middlesex jury, is as ugly as the Devil.  Viz. 
Ay, Sir Harry, 'twere a dangerous Cast for a Beau Baronet to be tried by a parcel of greasy, grumbling, bartering Boobies, who would hang you purely because you're a Gentleman.  Wild. 
Ay, but on t'other hand, I have Money enough to bribe the Rogues with: So upon mature deliberation, I would fight for her— but no more of her. Prithee, Vizard, can't you recommend a Friend to a pretty Mistress by the by, till I can find my own? you have store I'm sure; you cunning poaching Dogs make surer game than we that hunt open and fair. Prithee now, good Vizard.  Viz. 
Let me consider a little— Now Love and Revenge inspire my Politics. (Aside.) Pauses, whilst Sir Harry walks singing.  Wild. 
P'shaw! thou'rt as long studying for a new Mistress, as a Drawer is piercing a new Pipe.  Viz. 
I design a new Pipe for you and wholesome Wine, you'll therefore bear a little expectation.  Wild. 
Ha! sayst thou, dear Vizard.  Viz. 
A Girl of sixteen, Sir Harry.  Wild. 
Now sixteen thousand Blessings light on thee.  Viz. 
Pretty and Witty.  Wild. 
Ay, ay, but her Name, Vizard.  Viz. 
Her Name! yes— she has the softest whitest Hand that ever was made of Flesh and Blood, her Lips so balmy sweet.  Wild. 
Well, well, but where shall I find her, Man?  Viz. 
Find her— but then her Foot, Sir Harry; she dances to a Miracle.  Wild. 
Prithee don't distract me.  Viz. 
Well then, you must know, that this Lady is the Curiosity and Ambition of the Town; her Name's Angelica. She that passes for her Mother is a private Bawd, and called the Lady Darling, she goes for a Baronet's Lady (no disparagement to your Honour, Sir Harry) I assure you.  Wild. 
Pshaw, hang my Honour; but what Street, what House?  Viz. 
Not so fast, Sir Harry, you must have my Passport for your Admittance, and you'll find my Recommendation in a Line or two will procure you very civil entertainment; I suppose 20 or 30 pieces handsomely placed will gain the Point; I'll ensure her sound.  Wild. 
Thou dearest Friend to a man in necessity— Here Sirrah, order my Coach about to St. James', I'll walk across the Park. To his Servant.  Enter Clincher Senior. Clinch. 
Here Sirrah, order my Coach about to St. James',  
I'll walk across the Park too— Mr. Vizard, your most  
Devoted— Sir, (to Wildair) I admire the mode of your  
Shoulder-knot, methinks it hangs very emphatically, and  
Carries an air of Travel in it; your Sword-knot too is most  
Ornamentally modish, and bears a foreign Mein. Gentlemen,  
My Brother is just arrived in Town, so that being upon the  
Wing to kiss his Hands, I hope you'll pardon this abrupt  
Departure of, Gentlemen, your most Devoted, and most  
Faithful humble Servant. Exit.  Wild. 
Prithee, dost know him?  Viz. 
Know him! why 'tis Clincher who was Apprentice  
To my Uncle Smuggler, the Merchant in the City.  Wild. 
What makes him so Gay?  Viz. 
Why, he's in mourning for his Father, the kind old man  
In Hertfordshire another's day broke his Neck a Fox-  
hunting; the Son upon the news has broke his Indentures,  
Whipped from behind the Counter into the side Box,  
Forswears Merchandise, where he must live by Cheating,  
And usurps Gentility, where he may die by Raking.  
He keeps his Coach, and Liveries, brace of Geldings,  
Leash of Mistresses, talks of nothing but Wines,  
Intrigues, Plays, Fashions, and going to the jubilee.  Wild. 
Ha, ha, ha, how many pound of Pulvil must the fellow  
Use in sweetening himself from the smell of Hops  
And Tobacco, faugh— I'my Conscience methought,  
Like Olivia's Lover, he stunk of Thames-street. But now for Angelica,  
That's her name? we'll to the Princess' Chocolate  
House, where you shall write my Passport, Aloons. Exeunt.   

SCENE, Lady Lurewell's Lodgings.  Lurewell, and her Maid Parley. Lurewell. 
Parley, my pocket Book— let me see— Madrid,  
Venice, Paris, London— ay, London! they may talk  
What they will of the hot Countries, but I find Love  
Most fruitful under this Climate— In a Month's space  
Have I gained— let me see, Imprimis, Colonel Standard.  Parley. 
And how will your Ladyship manage him?  Lure. 
As all Soldiers should be managed, he shall serve me  
Till I gain my ends, than I disband him.  Par. 
But he loves you, Madam.  Lure. 
Therefore I scorn him, I hate all that don't love me,  
And slight all that do: would his whole deluding Sex  
Admired me, thus would I slight them all; my Virgin and  
Unwary Innocence was wronged by faithless Man,  
But now glance Eyes, plot Brain, dissemble Face,  
Lie Tongue, and be a second Eve to tempt, seduce, and  
Damn the treacherous kind— Let me survey my Captives—  
The Colonel leads the Van, next Mr. Vizard, he courts me  
Out of the Practice of Piety, therefore is a Hypocrite:  
Then Clincher he adores me with Orangery, and is  
Consequently a Fool; then my old Merchant, Alderman  
Smuggler, he's a Compound of both— out of which  
Medley of Lovers, if I don't make good Diversion— What d'ye think Parley?  Parl. 
I think, Madam, I'm like to be very virtuous in your Service,  
If you teach me all those Tricks that you use to your Lovers.  Lure. 
You're a Fool, Child; observe this, that though a Woman swear, forswear, lie, dissemble, backbite, be proud, vain, malicious, any thing, if she secures the main Chance, she's still virtuous, That's a Maxim.  Parl. 
I can't be persuaded tho, Madam, but that you really loved Sir Harry Wildair in Paris.  Lure. 
Of all the Lovers I ever had, he was my greatest Plague, for I could never make him uneasy; I left him involved in a Duel upon my Account, I long to know whether the Fop be killed or not.  Enter Standard. 
O Lord, no sooner talk of killing, but the Soldier is conjured up; you're upon hard Duty Colonel, to serve your King, your Country, and a Mistress too.  Stand. 
The latter, I must confess, is the hardest; for in War, Madam, we can be relieved in our Duty; but in Love who would take our Post, is our Enemy; Emulation in Glory is transporting, but Rivals here intolerable.  Lure. 
Those that bear away the Prize in the Field, should boast the same success in the Bedchamber; and I think, considering the weakness of our Sex, we should make those our Companions who can be our Champions.  Stand. 
I once, Madam, hoped the Honour of defending you from all Injuries thro' a Title to your lovely Person, but now my Love must attend my Fortune. This Commission, Madam, was my Passport to the Fair; adding a nobleness to my Passion, it stamped a value on my Love; 'twas once the life of Honour, but now its Hearse, and with it must my Love be buried.  Parl. 
What! Disbanded, Colonel?  Stand. 
Yes, Mrs. Parley.  Parl. 
Faugh, the nauseous Fellow, he stinks of Poverty already. aside.  Lure. 
His misfortune troubles me, 'cause it may prevent my designs. aside.  Stand. 
I'll choose, Madam, rather to destroy my Passion by absence abroad, than have it starved at home.  Lure. 
I'm sorry, Sir, you have so mean an Opinion of my Affection, as to imagine it founded upon your Fortune.  
And to convince you of your mistake, here I vow by all that's Sacred, I own the same Affection now as before. Let it suffice, my Fortune is considerable.  Stand. 
No, Madam, no, I'll never be a charge to her I love:  
The man that sells himself for Gold is the worst of Prostitutes.  Lure. 
Now were he any other Creature but a man, I could love him. aside.  Stand. 
This only last request I make, that no Title recommend a Fool, Office introduce a Knave, nor a Coat a Coward to my place in your Affections; so farewell my Country, and adieu my Love. Exit.  Lure. 
Now the Devil take thee for being so honourable;  
Here Parley, call him back, I shall lose half my Diversion  
Else; now for a trial of Skill. Re-enter Colonel.  
Sir, I hope you'll pardon my Curiosity,  
When do you take your Journey?  Stand. 
To morrow Morning early, Madam.  Lure. 
So-suddenly! which way are you designed to travel?  Stand. 
That I can't yet resolve on.  Lure. 
Pray, Sir, tell me, pray Sir, I entreat you, why are you so obstinate?  Stand. 
Why are you so curious, Madam?  Lure. 
Because—  Stand. 
What?  Lure. 
Because, I, I,—  Stand. 
Because! what, Madam?— pray tell me.  Lure. 
Because I design— to follow you. crying.  Stand. 
Follow me! by all that's great! I ne'er was proud  
Before, but Love from such a Creature might  
Swell the vanity of the proudest Prince; follow me!  
By Heavens thou shalt not. What! expose thee to the  
Hazards of a Camp!— Rather I'll stay, and here bear  
The Contempt of Fools, and worst of Fortune.  Lure. 
You need not, shall not, my Estate for both is sufficient.  Stand. 
Thy Estate! no, I'll turn a Knave and purchase one myself; I'●● cringe to that proud Man I undermine, and fawn on him that I would bite to death; I'll tip my Tongue with Flattery, and smooth my Face with Smiles; I'll turn Pimp, Informer, Office-broker, nay Coward, to be great; and sacrifice it all to thee, my generous Fair.  Lure. 
And I'll dissemble, lie, swear, jilt, any thing but I'd reward thy Love, and recompense thy noble Passion.  Stand. 
Sir Harry, ha! ha! ha, poor Sir Harry, ha, ha, ha. Rather kiss her Hand than the Pope's Toe, ha, ha, ha.  Lure. 
What Sir Harry? Colonel, What Sir Harry!  Stand. 
Sir Harry Wildair, Madam—  Lure. 
What! is he come over?  Stand. 
Ay, and he told me— but I don't believe a Syllable on't.  Lure. 
What did he tell you?  Stand. 
Only called you his Mistress, and pretending to be extravagant in your Commendation, would vainly insinuate the praise of his own Judgement and good Fortune in a Choice—  Lure. 
How easily is the vanity of Fops tickled by our Sex!  Stand. 
Why, your Sex is the vanity of Fops.  Lure. 
O' my Conscience I believe so; this Gentleman, because he danced well, I pitched on for a Partner at a Ball in Paris, and ever since he has so persecuted me with Letters, Songs, Dances, Serenading, Flattery, Foppery, and Noise, that I was forced to fly the Kingdom— And I warrant he made you jealous.  Stand. 
Faith, Madam, I was a little uneasy.  Lure. 
You shall have a plentiful Revenge, I'll send him back all his foolish Letters, Songs and Verses, and you yourself shall carry 'em, 'twill afford you opportunity of triumphing, and free me from his farther impertinence; for of all Men he's my Aversion. I'll run and fetch them instantly.  Stand. 
Dear Madam, a rare Project, how I shall bait him like Actaeon, with his own Dogs— Well, Mrs. Parley, 'tis ordered by Act of Parliament, that you receive no more pieces, Mrs. Parley—  Parl. 
'Tis provided by the same Act, that you send no more Messages by me good Colonel; you must not pretend to send any more Letters, unless you can pay the Postage.  Stand. 
Come, come! done't be Mercenary, take example by your Lady, be Honourable.  Parl. 
A lack a day, Sir, it shows as ridiculous and haughty for us to imitate our Betters in their Honour, as in their finery; leave Honour to Nobility that can support it: we poor Folks, Colonel, have no pretence to't; and truly, I think, Sir, that your Honour should be cashiered with your Leading-staff.  Stand. 
'Tis one of the greatest curses of Poverty, to be the Jest of Chambermaids!  Enter Lurewell. Lure. 
Here's the Packet Colonel, the whole magazine of Love's Artillery. gives him the Packet.  Stand. 
Which since I have gained, I will turn upon the Enemy;  
Madam, I'll bring you the News of my Victory this Evening.  
Poor Sir Harry! ha, ha, ha. Exit.  Lure. 
To the right about as you were, march Colonel: ha, ha, ha.  
Vain Man, who boasts of studied Parts and Wiles;  
Nature in us your deepest Art beguiles,  
Stamping deep Cunning in our Frowns and Smiles.  
You toil for Art, your Intellects you trace;  
Woman without a Thought, bears Policy in her Face.    

ACT II.  

SCENE, Clincher Iunior's Lodgings.  Enter Clincher opening a Letter, Servant following. Clin — reads. 
Dear Brother;  
I Will see you presently, I have sent this Lad to wait on you, he can instruct you in the Fashions of the Town● I am your affectionate Brother,  
Clincher.  
Very well, and what's your Name, Sir?  Dick. 
My Name is Dicky, Sir.  Clin. 
Dicky!  Dick. 
Ay, Dicky, Sir.  Clin. 
Very well● a pretty Name! and what can you do Mr. Dicky?  Dick. 
Why Sir I can powder a Wig, and pick up a Whore.  Clin. 
O Lord! O Lord! a Whore! Why are there many Whores in this Town?  Dick. 
Ha, ha, ha, many Whores! there's a Question indeed; why Sir, there are above five hundred Surgeons in Town— Harkee Sir, do you see that Woman therein the Velvet Scarf, and red Knots?  Clin. 
Ay Sir, What then?  Dick. 
Why she shall be at your Service in three minutes, As I'm a Pimp.  Clin. 
O jupiter Ammon! why she's a Gentlewoman.  Dick. 
A Gentlewoman! Why so are all the Whores in Town, Sir.  Enter Clincher Senior. Clin. sen. 
Brother, you're welcome to London!  Clin. jun. 
I thought, Brother, you owed so much to the Memory of my Father, as to wear Mourning for his Death.  Clin. sen. 
Why so I do Fool, I wear this because I have the Estate,  
And you wear that, because you have not the Estate.  
You have cause to mourn indeed, Brother. Well Brother,  
I'm glad to see you, fare you well. going.  Clin. jun. 
Stay, stay Brother, where are you going?  Clin. sen. 
How natural 'tis for a Country Booby to ask impertinent Questions. Harkee Sir, is not my Father dead?  Clin. jun. 
Ay, ay, to my sorrow.  Clin. sen. 
No matter for that, he is dead, and am not I a young powdered extravagant English Heir?  Clin. jun. 
Very right Sir.  Clin. sen. 
Why then Sir, you may be sure that I am going to the jubilee, Sir.  Clin. jun. 
jubilee! what's that?  Clin. sen. 
jubilee! why the jubilee is— faith I don't know what it is.  Dick. 
Why the jubilee is the same thing with our Lord-Mayors Day in the City; there will be Pageants, and Squibs, and Rary-Shows, and all that Sir.  Clin. jun. 
And must you go so soon Brother?  Clin. sen. 
Yes, Sir, for I must stay a Month in Amsterdam, to study Poetry.  Clin. jun. 
Then I suppose Brother, you travel through Muscovy to learn Fashions, Don't you, Brother?  Clin. sen. 
Brother! Prithee Robin don't call me Brother; Sir will do every jot as well.  Clin. jun. 
O jupiter Ammon! why so?  Clin. sen. 
Because People will imagine that you have a spite at me— But have you seen your Cousin Angelica yet, and her Mother the Lady Darling?  Clin. jun. 
No, my Dancing Master has not been with me yet: How shall I salute them, Brother?  Clin. sen. 
Pshaw, that's easy, 'tis only two Scrapes, a Kiss, and your humble Servant: I'll tell you more when I come from the jubilee. Come along.  Exeunt.  

SCENE, Lady Darling's House.  Enter Wildair with a Letter. Wild. 
LIke Light and Heat incorporate we lay,  
We blessed the Night, and cursed the coming Day.  
Well, if this Paper-kite flies sure, I'm secure of my Game— Humph! the prettiest Bordel ay have seen, a very stately genteel one (Footmen 'cross the Stage) hay day! Equipage too! Now for a Bawd by the Courtesy, and a Whore with a Coat of Arms— 'sdeath, I'm afraid I've mistaken the House.  (Enter Lady Darling.) 
No, this must he the Bawd by her Bulk.  Darl. 
Your Business, pray Sir?  Wild. 
Pleasure, Madam.  Darl. 
Then, Sir, you have no business here.  Wild. 
This Letter, Madam, will inform you further; Mr. Vizard sent it, with his humble Service to your Ladyship.  Darl. 
How does my Cousin, Sir?  Wild. 
Ay, her Cousin too, that's right Procuress again.  Darl. 
reads. 
Madam—  
EArnest Inclination to serve— Sir Harry— Madam— Court my Cousin— Gentleman— Fortune—. Your Ladyship's most humble Servant,  
Vizard.   
Sir, your Fortune and Quality are sufficient to recommend you any where; but what goes farther with me, is the recommendation of so sober and pious a young Gentleman as Cousin Vizard.  Wild. 
A right sanctified Bawd o' my word.  Darl. 
Sir Harry, your Conversation with Mr. Vizard argues you a Gentleman, free from the loose and vicious Carriage of the Town; I'll therefore call my Daughter. Exit.  Wild. 
Now go thy way for an illustrious Bawd of Babylon— She dresses up a Sin so religiously, that the Devil would hardly know it of his making.  Re-enter Darling with Angelica. Darl. 
Pray Daughter use him civility, such Matches won't offer every Day.  Exit. Wild. 
O all ye Powers of Love! an Angel! 'Sdeath, what Money have I got in my Pocket, I can't offer her less than twenty Guineas— and by jupiter she's worth a hundred.  Angel. 
'Tis he! the very same! and his Person as agreeable as his Character of good Humour— Pray Heaven his Silence proceed from respect.  Wild. 
How innocent she looks! how would that Modesty adorn  
Virtue, when it makes even Vice look so charming!—  
By Heaven there is such a commanding Innocence in her looks,  
That I dare not ask the Question.  Angel. 
Now all the Charms of real Love and feigned Indifference assist me to engage his Heart, for mine is lost already.  Wild. 
Madam— I, I— Zounds, I cannot speak to her— But she's a Whore, and I will— Madam in short, I, I— O Hypocrisy, Hypocrisy! What a charming Sin art thou?  Angel. 
He is caught, now to secure my Conquest— I thought Sir, you had business to impart.  Wild. 
Business to impart! how nicely she words it! Yes Madam, Don't you, don't you love singing Birds, Madam?  Angel. 
That's an odd Question for a Lover— Yes, Sir.  Wild. 
Why then Madam, here is a Nest of the prettiest Goldfinches that ever chirpt in a Cage; twenty young ones, I assure you Madam.  Angel. 
Twenty young ones! What then, Sir?  Wild. 
Why then Madam, there are twenty young ones— 'Slife I think twenty is pretty fair.  Angel. 
He's mad sure— Sir Harry, when you have learned more Wit and Manners, you shall be welcome here again.  Wild. 
Wit and Manners!— I Gad now I conceive there is a great deal of Wit and Manners in twenty Guineas— I'm sure 'tis all the Wit and Manners I have about me at present. What shall I do?  Enter Clincher junior, and Dicky. 
What the Devil's here? another Cousin I warrant ye! Harkee Sir, can you lend me ten or a dozen Guineas instantly? I'll pay you fifteen for them in three hours upon my Honour.  Clin. jun. 
These London Sparks are plaguy impudent! this Fellow by his Wig and Assurance can be no less than a Courtier.  Dick. 
He's rather a Courtier by his borrowing.  Clin. jun. 
Faith Sir, I han't above five Guineas about me.  Wild. 
What business have you here then Sir, for to my knowledge twenty won't be sufficient.  Clin. jun. 
Sufficient! for what Sir?  Wild 
What Sir? Why, for that Sir, what the Devil should it be, Sir; I know your business notwithstanding all your Gravity, Sir.  . 
My Business! why my Cousin lives here.  〈◊〉 
● know your Cousin does live there, and Vizard's Cousin, and my 〈…〉 every Body's Cousin— Harkee Sir, I shall return immediately, 〈…〉 offer to touch her till I come back, I shall cut your Throat, Rascal.  Exit. 〈◊〉. 
Why the Man's mad sure.  Sic. 
Mad, Sir, ay, why he's a Beau.  Clin. 
A Beau! what's that! are all Madmen Beaux?  Sic. 
No Sir, but most Beaux are Madmen. But now for your Cousin; remember your three Scrapes, a Kiss, and your humble Servant.  Exeunt, as into the House.  

SCENE, the Street.  Enter Wildair, Colonel following. Stand. 
SIR Harry, Sir Harry.  Wild. 
I'm in haste● Colonel; besides, if you're in no better humour than when I parted with you in the Park this morning, your Company won't be very agreeable.  Stand. 
You're a happy man, Sir Harry, who are never out of humour: Can nothing move your Gall, Sir Harry?  Wild. 
Nothing but Impossibilities, which are the same as nothing.  Stand. 
What Impossibilities?  Wild. 
The Resurrection of my Father to disinherit me, or an Act of Parliament against Wenching. A man of eight thousand Pound per Annum to be vexed! No, no, Anger and Spleen are Companions for younger Brothers.  Stand. 
Suppose one called you Son of a Whore behind your back.  Wild. 
Why then would I call him Rascal behind his back, and so we're even.  Stand. 
But suppose you had lost a Mistress.  Wild. 
Why then I would get another.  Stand. 
But suppose you were discarded by the Woman you love, that would surely trouble you.  Wild. 
You're mistaken, Colonel, my Love is neither romantically honourable, nor meanly mercenary, 'tis only a pitch of Gratitude; while she loves me, I love her; when she desists, the Obligation's void.  Stand. 
But to be mistaken in your Opinion, Sir, if the Lady Lurewell (only suppose it) had discarded you— I say only suppose it— and had sent your Discharge by me.  Wild. 
P'shaw! that's another Impossibility.  Stand. 
Are you sure of that?  Wild. 
Why 'twere a Soloecism in Nature, we're finger and Thumb, Sir, She dances with me, sings with me, plays with me, swears with me, lies with me.  Stand. 
How Sir?  Wild. 
I mean in an honourable way, that is, she lies for me. In short, we are as like one another as a couple of Guineas.  Stand. 
Now that I have raised you to the highest Pinnacle of Vanity, will I give you to mortifying a Fall, as shall dash your hopes to pieces— I pray your Honour to peruse these Papers. Gives him the Packet.  Wild. 
What is't, the Muster Roll of your Regiment, Colonel?  Stand. 
No, no, 'tis a List of your Forces in your last Love Campaign; and for your comfort all disbanded.  Wild. 
Prithee, good Metaphorical Colonel, what d'ye mean?  Stand. 
Read, Sir, read, these are the Sibyl's Leaves that will unfold your Destiny.  Wild. 
So it be not a false Deed to cheat me of my Estate, what care I— [opening the Packet] Humph! my Hand! to the Lady Lurewell— to the Lady Lurewell,— to the Lady Lurewell— What Devil hast thou been tampering with to conjure up these Spirits?  Stand. 
A certain Familiar of your Acquaintance Sir.  Wild. 
(reading)— Madam, my Passion— so natural— your Beauty contending— Force of Charms— Mankind— Eternal Admirer Wildair!—  
I never was ashamed of my Name before.  Stand. 
What, Sir Harry Wildair out of humour, ha, ha, ha, poor Sir Harry; more Glory in her Smile than in the Jubilee at Rome, ha, ha, ha; but then her Foot, Sir Harry, she dances to a miracle! ha, ha, ha! Fie, Sir Harry, a Man of your Parts write Letters not worth a keeping! What sayst thou, my dear Knight Errand? ha, ha, ha; you may go seek Adventures now indeed.  Wild. 
sings— Let her wander, etc.  Stand. 
You are jilted to some tune, Sir, blown up with false Music, that's all.  Wild. 
Now why should I be angry that a Woman is a Woman? since Inconstancy and Falsehood are grounded in their Natures, how can they help it?  Stand. 
Then they must be grounded in your Nature; for you and she are Finger and Thumb, Sir.  Wild. 
Here's a Copy of Verses too, I must turn Poet in the Devil's name— Stay— 'Sdeath, what's here? This is her Hand— Oh the charming Characters! My dear Wildair. (reading) That's I— this huff bluff Colonel— that's he— is the rarest Fool in Nature— the Devil he is! and as such have I used him— with all my heart faith— I had no better way of letting you know that I lodge in Pall Mall near the Holy Lamb— Colonel, I'm your most humble Servant.  Stand. 
Hold, Sir, you shan't go yet, I han't delivered half my Message.  Wild. 
Upon my faith but you have, Colonel.  Stand. 
Well, well, own your Spleen, out with it, I know you're like to burst.  Wild. 
I am so, by Gad, ha, ha, ha, Laugh, and point at one another.  Stand. 
Ay, with all my heart, ha, ha.  
Well, well, that's all forced, Sir Harry.  Wild. 
I was never better pleased in all my Life, by jupiter.  Stand. 
Well, Sir Harry, 'tis prudence to hide your Concern, when there's no help for't—: but to be serious now, the Lady has sent you back all your Papers there— I was so just as not to look upon 'em.  Wild. 
I'm glad on't, Sir; for there were some things that I would not have you see.  Stand. 
All this she has done for my sake, and I desire you would decline any farther Pretensions for your own sake. So honest, good natured Sir Harry, I'm your humble Servant. Exit.  Wild. 
Ha, ha, ha, poor Colonel!— O the delight of an ingenious Mistress! what a life and briskness it adds to an Amour, like the Loves of mighty jove, still sueing in different shapes. A Legerdemain Mistress, who, presto, pass, and she's vanished, then hay, in an instant in your Arms again. Going.  Enter Vizard. Viz. 
Well met, Sir Harry, what news from the Island of Love?  Wild. 
Faith we made but a broken Voyage by your Card; but now I am bound for another Port: I told you the Colonel was my Rival.  Viz. 
The Colonel! cursed Misfortune! another! Aside.  Wild. 
But the civilest in the world, he brought me word where my Mistress lodges; the Story's too long to tell you now, for I must fly.  Viz. 
What! have you given over all thoughts of Angelica?  Wild. 
No, no, I'll think of her some other time, But now for the Lady Lurewell; Wit and Beauty calls. 
That Mistress ne'er can pall her Lover's joys,  
Whose Wit can whet, when e'er her Beauty cloys.  
Her little amorous Frauds all Truths excel;  
And make us happy, being deceived so well. Exit.   Viz. solus 
— The Colonel my Rival too! how shall I manage? There is but one way— him and the Knight will I set a tilting, where one cuts tother's Throat, and the Survivor's hanged: So there will be two Rivals pretty decently disposed of. Since Honour may oblige them to play the Fool, why should not Necessity engage me to play the Knave? Exit.   

SCENE, Lurewell's Lodgings.  Lurewell and Parley. Lure. 
HAS my Servant brought me the Money from my Merchant?  Parl. 
No, Madam, he met Alderman Smuggler at Charing-Cross, who has promised to wait on you himself immediately.  Lure. 
'Tis odd, that this old Rogue should pretend to love me, and at the same time cheat me of my Money.  Parl. 
'Tis well, Madam, if he don't cheat you of your Estate; for you say the Writings are in his hands.  Lure. 
But what satisfaction can I get of him? Enter Smuggler.  
Mr. Alderman, your Servant, have you brought me any Money, Sir?  Smug. 
Faith, Madam, trading is very dead; what with paying the Taxes, raising the Customs, Losses at Sea abroad, and maintaining our Wives at home, the Bank is reduced very low.  Lure. 
Come, come, Sir, these Evasions won't serve your turn, I must have Money, Sir,— I hope you don't design to cheat me.  Smug. 
Cheat you, Madam! have a care what you say: I'm an Alderman, Madam; cheat you, Madam! I have been an honest Citizen these five and thirty years!  Lure. 
An honest Citizen! bear witness, Parley! I shall trap him in more Lies presently—. Come, Sir, though I'm a Woman, I can take a course.  Smug. 
What Course, Madam? You'll go to Law, will ye? I can maintain a Suit of Law, be it right or wrong, these forty years, I'm sure of that, thanks to the honest Practice of the Courts.  Lure. 
Sir, I'll blast your Reputation, and so ruin your Credit.  Smug. 
Blast my Reputation! he, he, he: why I'm a Religious Man, Madam, I have been very instrumental in the Reformation of Manners; ruin my Credit! ah, poor Woman: There is but one way, Madam,— you have a sweet leering Eye.  Lure. 
You instrumental in the Reformation! how?  Smug. 
I whipped all the Whores Cut and Long-Tail, out of the Parish—: ● Ah! that leering Eye! Then I voted for pulling down the Playhouse—: Ah that Ogle, that Ogle!— Then my own pious Example— Ah that Lip, that Lip.  Lure. 
Here's a Religious Rogues for you now!— as I hope to be saved I have a good mind to beat the old Monster.  Smug. 
Madam, I have brought you about a hundred and fifty Guineas (a great deal of Money as times go) and—  Lure. 
Come, give it me.  Smug. 
Ah that hand, that hand, that pretty soft, white— I have brought it you see, but the condition of the Obligation is such, that whereas that leering Eye, that pouting Lip, that pretty soft Hand, that— you understand me, you understand I'm sure you do, you little Rogue—  Lure. 
Here's a Villain now, so'covetous that he won't wench upon his own Cost, but would bribe me with my own Mony. I will be revenged.— Upon my word Mr. Alderman you make me blush, what d'ye mean, pray?  Smug. 
See here, Madam (Puts a piece of Money in his Mouth) Buss and Guinea, buss and Guinea, buss and Guinea.  Lure. 
Well, Mr. Alderman's you have such pretty yellow Teeth, and green Gums, that I will, ha, ha, ha, ha.  Smug. 
Will you indeed, he, he, he, my little Cocket; and when, and where, and how?  Lure. 
'Twill be a difficult point, Sir, to secure both our Honours, you must therefore be disguised, Mr. Alderman.  Smug. 
P'shaw! no matter, I am an old Fornicator, I'm not half so Religious as I seem to be. You little Rogue, why I'm disguised as I am, our Sanctity is all outside, all Hypocrisy.  Lure. 
No man is seen to come into this House after Night fall; you must therefore sneak in, when 'tis dark, in Woman's clothes.  Smug. 
I gad so, cod so— I have a Suit a purpose, my little Cocket, I love to be disguised, I cod I make a very handsome Woman, I cod I do.  Enter Servant, whispers Lurewell. Lure. 
Oh! Mr. Alderman, shall I beg you to walk into next Rome, here are some Strangers coming up.  Smug. 
Buss and Guinea first, ah my little Cocket. Exit.  Enter Wildair. Wild. 
My Life, my Soul, my all that Heaven can give.  Lure. 
Death's Life with thee, without thee Death to live.  
Welcome, my dear Sir Harry, I see you got my Directions.  Wild. 
Directions! in the most charming manner, thou dear Matchiavel of Intrigue.  Lure. 
Still brisk and airy I find, Sir Harny.  Wild. 
The sight of you, Madam, exalts my Air, and makes Joy lighten in my Face.  Lure. 
I have a thousand Questions to ask you, Sir Harry; How d'ye like France?  Wild. 
Ah! est le plus bea● pais du monde.  Lure. 
Then what made you leave it so soon?  Wild. 
Madam, Vous Voyez que je vous suy partout.  Lure. 
O Monsieur, je vouz suis fort obligee— But where's the Court now?  Wild. 
At Marli, Madam.  Lure. 
And where my Count Le Valier?  Wild. 
His Body's in the Church of Nostre Dame, I don't know where his Soul is.  Lure. 
What Disease did he die of?  Wild. 
A Duel, Madam, I was his Doctor.  Lure. 
How d'ye mean?  Wild. 
As most Doctors do, I killed him.  Lure. 
En Cavalier, my dear Knight Errand, well and how;  
And how, what intrigues, what Gallantries are carrying on in the Beau Monde?  Wild. 
I should ask you that question, Madam, since your Ladyship makes the Beau Monde wherever you come.  Lure. 
Ah! Sir Harry, I've been almost ruined, pestered to death here by the incessant Attacks of a mighty Colonel, he has besieged me as close as our Army did Namur.  Wild. 
I hope your Ladyship did not surrender tho.  Lure. 
No, no, but was forced to capitulate; but since you are come to raise the Siege, we'll dance, and sing, and laugh.  Wild. 
And love and kiss— Montrez moy votre Chambre.  Lure. 
Attande, Attande, en peu— I remember, Sir Harry, you promised me in Paris never to ask that impertinent Question again.  Wild. 
P'shaw, Madam, that was above two months ago; besides, Madam, Treaties made in France are never kept.  Lure. 
Would you marry me, Sir Harry.  Wild. 
Oh! Le marriage est une grand male— but I will marry you.  Lure. 
Your Word, Sir, is not to be relied on: if a Gentleman will forfeit his Honour in Dealings of Business, we may reasonably suspect his Fidelity in an Amour.  Wild. 
My Honour in Dealings of Business! why, Madam, I never had any business in all my life.  Lure. 
Yes, Sir Harry, I have heard a very odd Story, and am sorry that a Gentleman of your Figure should undergo the Scandal.  Wild. 
Out with it, Madam.  Lure. 
Why the Merchant, Sir, that transmitted your Bills of Exchange to you in France, complains of some indirect and dishonourable Dealings.  Wild. 
Who? old Smuggler!  Lure. 
Ay, ay, you know him I find.  Wild. 
I have no less than reason, I think; why the Rogue has cheated me of above five hundred pound within these three years.  Lure. 
'Tis your business then to acquit yourself publicly, for he spreads the Scandal every where.  Wild. 
Acquit myself publicly!— Here Sirrah, my Coach, I'll drive instantly into the City, and cane the old Villain round the Royal Exchange; he shall run the Gauntlet thro' a thousand brushed Beavers and formal Cravats.  Lure. 
Why he's in the House now, Sir.  Wild. 
What, in this House?  Lure. 
Ay, in the next Room.  Wild. 
Then, Sirrah● lend me your Cudgel.  Lure. 
Sir Harry, you won't raise a Disturbance in my House?  Wild. 
Disturbance, Madam, No, no, I'll beat him with the Temper of a Philosopher; here, Mrs. Parley, show me the Gentleman. Exit with Parley.  Lure. 
Now shall I get the old Monster well beaten, and Sir Harry pestered next Term with Bloodsheds, Batteries, Costs and Damages, Solicitors and Attorneys; and if they don't tease him out of his good humour, I'll never plot●agen. Exit.   

SCENE, Changes to another Room in the same House.  Enter Smuggler. Smug. 
O This damned Tide-waiter! A Ship and Cargo worth five thousand pound! why 'tis richly worth five hundred Perjuries.  Enter Wildair. Wild. 
Dear Mr. Alderman, I'm your most devoted and humble Servant.  Smug. 
My best Friend Sir Harry, you're welcome to England.  Wild. 
I'll assure you Sir, there's not a Man in the King's Dominions I'm gladder to meet.  Smug. 
O Lord, Sir, you Travellers have the most obliging ways with you.  Wild. 
There is a Business Mr. Alderman fallen out, which you may oblige me infinitely by— I am very sorry that I'm forced to be troublesome● but necessity, Mr. Alderman.  Smug. 
Ay, Sir, as you say necessity— But upon my word, Sir, I am very short of Money at present, but—  Wild. 
That's not the matter, Sir, I'm above an Obligation that way, but the Business is, I am reduced to an indispensible necessity of being obliged to you for a Beating— Here take this Cudgel.  Smug. 
A Beating Sir Harry! ha, ha, ha, I beat a Knight Baronet! an Alderman turn Cudgel-Player, ha, ha, ha.  Wild. 
Upon my word, Sir, you must beat me, or I cudgel you, take your choice.  Smug. 
P'shaw, p'shaw, you jest.  Wild. 
Nay, 'tis as sure as fate; so Alderman I hope you'll pardon my Curiosity.  Smug. 
Curiosity! Deuce take your Curiosity, Sir, what d'ye mean.  Wild. 
Nothing at all, I'm but in jest, Sir.  Smug. 
O, I can take any thing in jest, but a Man might imagine by the smartness of the Stroke, that you were in down right earnest.  Wild. 
Not in the least, Sir, (strikes him) not in the least indeed Sir.  Smug. 
Pray good Sir, no more of your Jests, for they are the bluntest Jests that I ever knew.  Wild. 
(striketh.) I heartily beg your Pardon with all my Heart, Sir.  Smug. 
Pardon Sir, well Sir, that is satisfaction enough from a Gentleman; but seriously now if you pass any more of your Jests upon me, I shall grow angry.  Wild. 
I humbly beg your permission to break one or two more. striking him.  Smug. 
O Lord, Sir, you'll break my Bones: are you mad Sir; Murder, Felony, Manslaughter. Wild. knocks him down.  Wild. 
Sir, I beg you ten thousand Pardons; but I am absolutely compelled to't upon my Honour, Sir; nothing can be more averse to my Inclinations, than to jest with my honest, dear, loving, obliging Friend, the Alderman.  (Striking him all this while, Smuggler tumbles over and over, and shakes out his Pocket-book on the Floor; Lurewel enters, takes it up.) Lure. 
The old Rogue's Pocket-book, this may be of use. aside.  
O Lord, Sir Harry's murdering the poor old Man—  Smug. 
O dear Madam, I was beaten in jest, till I am murdered in good earnest.  Lure. 
Well, well, I'll bring you off Senior— Frapez, Frapez.  Smug. 
O for Charity's sake, Madam, rescue a poor Citizen.  Lure. 
O you barbarous Man, hold, hold, Frapez, plus rudement,  
Frapez, I wonder you are not ashamed, holding Wild.  
A poor reverend honest Elder— helps Smug. up.  
It makes me weep to see him in this Condition, poor Man!  
Now the Devil take you Sir Harry— Fear not beating  
Him harder: Well, my Dear, you shall come at Night, and  
I'll make you amends. Here Sir Harry takes Snush.  Smug. 
Madam, I will have amends before I leave the Place, Sir; How durst you use me thus?  Wild. 
Sir?  Smug. 
Sir, I say that I will have satisfaction.  Wild. 
With all my Heart. Throws Snush into his Eyes.  Smug. 
O, Murder, Blindness, Fire; O Madam, Madam, get me some Water, Water, Fire, Fire, Water. Exit. with Lurewel.  Wild. 
How pleasant is resenting an Injury without Passion:  
'Tis the Beauty of Revenge.  
Let Statesmen plot, and under Business groan,  
And settling public Quiet lose their own;  
Let Soldiers drudge and fight for Pay or Fame,  
For when they're shot, I think 'tis much the same.  
Let Scholars vex their Brains with Mood and Tense,  
And mad with strength of Reason, Fools Commence.  
Losing their Wits in searching after Sense;  
Their Summum Bonum they must toil to gain,  
And seeking Pleasure, spend their Life in Pain.  
I make the most of Life, no hour misspend,  
Pleasure's the Means, and Pleasure is my End.  
No Spleen, no Trouble shall my time destroy.  
Life's but a Span; I'll every Inch enjoy. Exit.    

ACT III.  

SCENE, The Street.  Enter Standard and Vizard. Stand. 
I Bring him word where she lodged! I the Civilist Rival in the World! 'tis impossible.  Viz. 
I shall urge it no further, Sir; I only thought Sir,  
That my Character in the World might add Authority  
To my Words without so many Repetitions.  Stand. 
Pardon me, Dear Vizard— Our Belief struggles hard,  
Before it can be brought to yield to the Disadvantage  
Of what we love; 'tis so great an Abuse to our Judgement,  
That it makes the Faults of our Choice our own failing.  
But what said Sir Harry?  Viz. 
He pitied the poor credulous Colonel, laughed heartily,  
Flew away with all the Raptures of a Bridegroom, repeating these Lines● 
A Mistress ne'er can pall her Lover's joys,  
Whose Wit can whet when e'er her Beauty cloys.   Stand. 
A Mistress ne'er can pall! By all my Wrongs he whore's her! and I'm made their Property, Vengeance! Vizard, you must carry a Note from me to Sir Harry.  Viz. 
What! a Challenge! I hope you don't design to fight?  Stand. 
What! wear the Livery of my King and Pocket an  
Affront! 'twere an abuse to his Sacred Majesty, a  
Soldiers Sword, Vizard, should start of itself to  
Redress its Master's Wrong.  Viz. 
However, Sir, I think it not proper for me to carry any such Message between Friends.  Stand. 
I have ne'er a Servant here, what shall I do?  Viz. 
There's Tom Errand, the Porter, that plys at the Blue Posts,  
And who knows Sir Harry and his Haunts very well,  
You may send a Note by him.  Stand. 
Here, you, Friends  Viz. 
I have now some Business, and must take my Leave, I would advise you nevertheless against this Affair.  Stand. 
No whispering now, nor telling of Friends to prevent us. He that disappoints a Man of an honourable Revenge, may love him foolishly like a Wife, but never value him as a Friend.  Viz. 
Nay the Devil take him that parts you, say I. Exit.  Enter Porter running. Err. 
Did your Honour call a Porter?  Stand. 
Is your Name Tom Errand?  Err. 
People call me so, an't like your Worship—  Stand. 
D'ye know Sir Harry Wildair?  Err. 
Ay, very well Sir, he's one of my Masters; many a round half Crown have I had of his Worship, he's newly come home from France, Sir.  Stand. 
Go to the next Coffee-house, and wait for me.  
O Woman, Woman, how blessed is Man, when favoured by your  
Smiles, and how accurst when all those Smiles are found  
But wanton baits to soothe us to Destruction. 
Thus our chief joys with base Allays are cursed,  
And our best things, when once corrupted, worst. Exit.   Enter Wildair and Clincher senior following. Clin. sen. 
Sir, Sir, Sir, having some Business of Importance to communicate to you, I would beg your Attention to a trifling Affair that I would impart to you.  Wild. 
What is your trifling business of Importance pray sweet Sir?  Clin. sen. 
Pray Sir, are the Roads deep between this and Paris?  Wild. 
Why that Question, Sir?  Clin. sen. 
Because I design to go to the jubilee, Sir; I understand that you are a Traveller, Sir; there is an Air of Travel in the Tie of you Cravat, Sir● there is indeed, Sir— I suppose, Sir, you bought this Lace in Flanders.  Wild. 
No, Sir, this Lace was made in Norway.  Clin. sen. 
Norway, Sir!  Wild. 
Yes Sir, of the shave of deal Board's.  Clin. sen. 
That's very strange now, Faith— Lace made of the shavings of deal Board's; I Gad Sir, you Travellers see very strange things abroad, very incredible things abroad, indeed. Well, I'll have a Cravat of that very same Lace before I come home.  Wild. 
But Sir? what Preparations have you made for your Journey?  Clin. sen. 
A Case of Pocket-pistols for the Bravoes— and a swimming Girdle.  Wild. 
Why these, Sir?  Clin. Sen. 
O Lord, Sir, I'll tell you— suppose us in Rome now; away goes me I to some Ball— for I'll be a mighty Beau. Then as I said, I go to some Ball, or some Bear-baiting, 'tis all one you know— then comes a fine Italian Bona Roba, and plucks me by the Sleeve, Siegniour Angle, Siegniour Angle,— she's a very fine Lady, observe that— Signior Angle, shays she,— Siegniora, says I, and trips after her to the corner of a Street, suppose it Russel ●Street here, or any other Street; than you know I must invite her to the Tavern, I can do no less.— There up comes her Bravo, the Italian grows saucy, and I give him an English douse of the Face. I can Box, Sir, Box tightly, I was a Prentice, Sir,— but then, Sir, he whips out his Stiletto, and I whips out my Bull-Dog— slaps him through, trips down Stairs, turns the corner of Russel-Street again, and whips me into the Ambassador's Train, and there I'm safe as a Beau behind the Scenes.  Wild. 
Was your Pistol charged, Sir?  Clin. Sen. 
Only a brace of Bullets, that's all, Sir, I design to shoot seven Italians a Week, Sir.  Wild. 
Sir, you won't have Provocation.  Clin. Sen. 
Provocation, Sir! Zauns, Sir, I'll kill any Man for treading upon my Corn, and there will be a devilish Throng of People there; they say that all the Princes in Italy will be there.  Wild. 
And all the Fops and Fiddlers in Europe— but the use of your swimming Girdle, pray, Sir?  Clin. Sen. 
O Lord, Sir, that's easy. Suppose the Ship cast away; now, whilst other foolish People are busy at their Prayers, I whip on my swimming Girdle, claps a Month's Provision into my Pockets, and sails me away like an Egg in a Duck's Belly.— And heark'ee, Sir, I have a new Project in my Head. Where d'ye think my swimming Girdle shall carry me upon this Occasion: 'Tis a new Project?  Wild. 
Where, Sir?  Clin. Sen. 
To Civita Vecchia, Faith and Troth, and so save the Charges of my Passage! Well, Sir, you must Pardon me now, I'm going to see my Mistress. Exit.  Wild. 
This Fellow's an accomplished Ass● before he goes abroad. Well! this Angelica has got into my Heart, and I can't get her out of my Head. I must pay her t'other Visit. Exit.   

SCENE, Lady Darling's House.  Angelica sola. Angel. 
Unhappy State of Woman! whose chief Virtue is but Ceremony, and our much boasted Modesty but a slavish Restraint. The strict confinement on our Words makes our Thoughts ramble more; and what preserves our outward Fame, destroys our inward Quiet.— 'Tis hard that Love should be denied the privilege of Hatred; that Scandal and Detraction should so much indulged, yet sacred Love and Truth debarred our Conversation.  Enter Darling, Clincher, jun. and Dicky. Darl. 
This is my Daughter, Cousin.  Dick. 
Now, Sir, remember your three scrapes.  Clin. 
saluting Angelica. One, two, three, [Kisses her.] your humble Servant. Was not that right, Dicky.  Dick. 
Ay faith, Sir, but why don't you speak to her.  Clin. Jun. 
I beg your Pardon, Dicky. I know my distance, would you have me speak to a Lady at the first sight?  Dick. 
Ay, Sir, by all means, the first Aim is the surest.  Clin. Jun. 
Now for a good Jest, to make her laugh heartily— By jupiter Ammon I'll go give her a Kiss. Goes towards her.  Enter Wildair, Interposing. Wild. 
'Tis all to no purpose, I told you so before, your pitiful Five Guinea's will never do— you may march, Sir, for as far as Five Hundred Pounds will go, I'll outbid you.  Clin. Jun. 
What the Devil! the Mad-man's here again.  Darl. 
Bless me, Cousin! what d'ye mean? Affront a Gentleman of his Quality in my House.  Clin. Jun. 
Quality! why, Madam, I don't know what you mean by your Madmen, and your Beaux, and your Quality.— They're all alike I believe.  Darl. 
Pray, Sir, walk with me into the next Room.  Exit Darl. leading Clin. Dicky follows. Angel. 
Sir, if your Conversation be no more agreeable than 'twas the last time, I would advise you to make it as short as you can.  Wild. 
The Offences of my last Visit, Madam, bore their Punishment in the Commission; and have made me as uneasy till I receive Pardon, as your Ladyship can be till I sue for it.  Angel. 
Sir Harry I did not well understand the Offence, and must therefore proportion it to the greatness of your Apology; if you would therefore have me think it light, take no great Pains in an Excuse.  Wild. 
How sweet must be the Lips that guard that Tongue! Then, Madam, no more of past Offences, let us prepare for Joys to come; let this seal my Pardon. [Kisses her Hand.] And this [Again] initiate me to farther Happiness.  Angel. 
Hold, Sir,— one Question, Sir Harry, and pray answer plainly, d'ye love me?  Wild. 
Love you! Does Fire ascend? Do Hypocrites Dissemble? Usurer's love Gold, or Great Men Flattery? Doubt these, than question that I Love.  Angel. 
This shows your Gallantry, Sir, but not your Love.  Wild. 
View your own Charms, Madam, then judge my Passion; your Beauty ravishes my Eye, your Voice my Ear, and your Touch has thrilled my melting Soul.  Angel. 
If your Words be real, 'tis in your Power to raise an equal Flame in me.  Wild. 
Nay then— I seize—  Angel. 
Hold, Sir, 'tis also possible to make me detest and scorn you worse than the most profligate of your deceiving Sex.  Wild. 
Ha! A very odd turn this. I hope, Madam, you only affect Anger, because you know your Frowns are Becoming.  Angel. 
Sir Harry, you being the best Judge of your own Designs, can best understand whether my Anger should be real or dissembled, think what strict Modesty should bear, then judge of my Resentments.  Wild. 
Strict Modesty should bear! Why faith Madam, I believe the strictest Modesty may bear Fifty Guinea's, and I don't believe 'twill bear one Farthing more.  Angel. 
What d'mean? Sir.  Wild. 
Nay, Madam, what do you mean? If you go to that, I think now Fifty Guinea's is a very fine offer for your strict Modesty, as you call it.  Angel. 
'Tis more Charitable, Sir Harry, to charge the Impertinence of a Man of your Figure, on his defect in Understanding, than on his want of Manners— I'm afraid you're Mad, Sir.  Wild. 
Why, Madam, you're enough to make any Man mad. 'Sdeath, are not you a—  Angel. 
What, Sir?  Wild. 
Why, a Lady of— strict Modesty, if you will have it so.  Angel. 
I shall never hereafter trust common Report, which represented you, Sir, a Man of Honour, Wit, and Breeding; for I find you very deficient in them all. Exit.  Wild. solus. 
Now I find that the strict Pretences which the Ladies of Pleasure make to strict Modesty, is the reason why those of Quality are ashamed to wear it.  Enter Vizard. Viz. 
Ah, Sir Harry, have I caught you? well, and what Success.  Wild. 
Success! 'tis a shame for you young Fellows in Town here, to let the Wenches grow so saucy: I offered her Fifty Guinea's, and she was in her Airs presently. I could have had two Countesses in Paris for half the Money, and jevous remercy in to the Bargain.  Viz. 
Gone in her Airs say you? And did not you follow her?  Wild. 
Whither should I follow her?  Viz. 
Into her Bedchamber, Man. She went on purpose; you a Man of Gallantry, and not understand that a Lady's best pleas'd when she puts on her Airs, as you call it.  Wild. 
She talked to me of strict Modesty, and stuff.  Viz. 
Certainly most Women magnify their Modesty, for the same reason that Cowards boast their Courage, because they have least on't. Come, come, Sir Harry, when you make your next Assault, encourage your Spirits with brisk Burgundy, if you succeed, 'tis well; if not, you have a fair excuse for your Rudeness. I'll go in, and make your Peace for what's past. Oh! I had almost forgot— Coll. Standard wants to speak with you about some Business.  Wild. 
I'll wait upon him presently, d'ye know where he may be found.  Viz. 
In the Piazza of Covent-Garden, about an Hour hence, I promised to see him, and there you may meet him; to have your Throat cut. Aside. I'll go in and intercede for you.  Wild. 
But no foul play with the Lady, Vizard. Exit.  Viz. 
No fair play I can assure you. Exit.   

SCENE, The Street before Lurewell's Lodgings; Clincher Sen. and Lurewell Coqueting in the Balcony.  Enter Standard. Stand. 
How weak is Reason in disputes of Love? that daring Reason which so oft pretends to question Works of high Omnipotence, yet poorly truckles to our weakest Passions, and yields implicit Faith to foolish Love, paying blind Zeal to faithless Woman's Eyes. I've heard her Falsehood with such pressing Proofs, that I no longer should distrust it. Yet still my Love would baffle Demonstration, and make Impossibilities seem probable. Looks up. Ha! that Fool too! what! stoop so low as that Animal.— 'Tis true, Women once fallen, like Cowards in despair, will stick at nothing, there's no Medium in their Actions. They must be bright as Angels, or black as Fiends. But now for my Revenge, I'll kick her Cully before her Face, call her a Whore, curse the whole Sex, and so leave her. Goes in.  Lurewell comes down with Clincher. The Scene changes to a Dining-Room. Lure. 
O Lord, Sir, 'tis my Husband: What will become of you?  Clin. 
Eh! Your Husband! Oh, I Shall be murdered: What shall I do? Where shall I run? I'll creep into an Oven; I'll climb up the Chimney; I'll fly; I'll swi●;— I wish to the Lord I were at the jubilee now.—  Lure. 
Can't you think of any thing, Sir?  Enter Tom Errand. 
What do you want, Sir?  Erra. 
Madam, I am looking for Sir Harry Wildair; I saw him come in here this Morning; and did imagine he might be here still.  Lure. 
A lucky Hitt! Here Friend, change Clothes with this Gentleman quickly: Strip.  Clinc. 
Ay, ay, quickly strip: I'll give you Half a Crown. Come here: So.  They change Clothes. Lure. 
Now slip you, [〈◊〉 Clinch] down stairs, and wait at the Door till my Husband be gone; And get you in there [to the Porter] till I call you.  Puts Errand into the next Room. Enter Standard. 
Oh, Sir! Are you come? I wonder Sir, how you have the Confidence to approach me after so base a Trick.  Stand. 
O Madam, all your Artifices won't prevail.  Lure. 
Nay Sir, Your Artifices won't avail. I thought, Sir, that I gave you Caution enough against troubling me with Sir Harry Wildair's Company when I sent his Letters back by you: Yet you forsooth must tell him where I lodged, and expose me again to his impertinent Courtship.  Stand. 
I expose you to his Courtship!  Lure. 
I'll lay my Life you'll deny it now: Come, come, Sir, a pitiful Lie is as scandalous to a Red Coat as an Oath to a Black. Did not Sir Harry himself tell me, that he found out by you where I lodged?  Stand. 
You're all Lies: First, your Heart is false, your Eyes are double; one Look belies another: And then your Tongue does contradict them all.— Ma'am, I see a little Devil just now hammering out a Lie in your Pericranium.  Lure. 
As I hope for Mercy he's in the right on't. [Aside] Hold, Sir, You have got the Playhouse Cant upon your Tongue; and think that Wit may privilege your Railing: But I must tell you, Sir, that what is satire upon the Stage, is ill Manners here.  Stand. 
What is feigned upon the Stage, is here in Reality. Real Falsehood. Yes, yes, Madam,— I exposed you to the Courtship of your Fool Clincher too? I hope your Female Wiles will impose that upon me— also—  Lure. 
Clincher! Nay, now, you're stark mad. I know no such Person.  Stand. 
O Woman in Perfection! not know him! S●ife, Madam, Can my Eyes, my piercing jealous Eyes be so deluded? Nay, Madam, my Nose could not mistake him; for I smelled the Fop by his Pulvilio from the Balcony down to the Street.  Lure. 
The Balcony! Ha, ha, ha, the Balcony! I'll be hanged but he has mistaken. Sir Harry Wildair's Footman with a new French Livery, for a Beau.  Stand. 
'Sdeath Madam, what is there in me that looks like a Cully? Did I not see him?  Lure. 
No, no, you could not see him; You're dreaming, Colonel: Will you believe your Eyes, now, that I have rubbed them open?— Here, you Friend.  Enter Errand in Clincher 's clothes. Stand. 
This is Illusion all; My Eyes conspire against themselves. 'Tis Legerdemain.  Lure. 
Legerdemain! Is that all your Acknowledgement for your rude Behaviour?— Oh, what a Curse it is to love as I do!— But done't presume too far, Sir, on my Affection: For such ungenerous Usage will soon return my tired Heart.— Be gone Sir [to the Porter.] to your impertinent Master, and tell him I shall never be at leisure to receive any of his troublesome Visits:— send to me to know when I should be at home!— Be gone Sir:— I am sure he has made me an unfortunate Woman. Weeps.  Stand. 
Noy, than there is no Certainty in Nature; and Truth is only Falsehood well disguised.  Lure. 
Sir, had not I owned my fond foolish Passion, I should not have been subject to such unjust Suspicions; But 'tis an ungrateful Return. Weeping.  Stand. 
Now where are all my firm Resolves? I will believe her just. My Passion raised my Jealousy; then why mayn't Love be blind in finding faults as in excusing them?— I hope, Madam, you'll pardon me, since Jealousy that magnified my Suspicion is as much the Effect of Love as my Easiness in being satisfied.  Lure. 
Easiness in being satisfied! You Men have got an insolent way of extorting Pardon, by persisting in your Faults. No, no, Sir, cherish your Suspicions, and feed upon your Jealousy: 'Tis fit Meat for your squeamish Stomach. 
With me all Women should this Rule pursue:  
Who thinks us false, should never find us true.   Exit in a Rage. Enter Clincher in the Porter's clothes. Clin. 
Well, Intriguing is the prettiest pleasantest thing for a Man of my Parts:— How shall we laugh at the Husband when he is gone?— How sillily he looks! He's in labour of Horns already,— to make a Colonel a Cuckold! 'Twill he rare News for the Aldermen. aside.  Stand. 
All this Sir Harry has occasioned; but he's brave, and will afford me just Revenge:— O! this is the Porter I sent the Challenge by:— Well Sir, have you found him?  Clin. 
What the Devil does he mean now?  Stand. 
Have you given Sir Harry the Note, Fellow?  Clin. 
The Note! What Note?  Stand. 
The Letter, Blockhead, which I sent by you to Sir Harry Wildair, have you seen him?  Clin. 
O Lord, what shall I say now? Seen him! Yes Sir.— No Sir.— I have Sir.— I have not Sir.  Stand. 
The Fellow's mad. Answer me directly Sirrah, or I'll break your Head.  Clin. 
I know Sir Harry very well, Sir; but as to the Note Sir, I can't remember a Word on't: Truth is, I have a very bad Memory.  Stand. 
O Sir, I'll quicken your Memory. Strikes him.  Clin. 
Zauns, Sir, hold,— I did give him the Note.  Stand. 
And what Answer?  Clin. 
I mean Sir, I did not give him the Note.  Stand. 
What, d'ye banter, Rascal? Strikes him again.  Clin. 
Hold Sir, hold, He did send an Answer.  Stand. 
What was't Villain?  Clin. 
Why truly Sir, I have forgot it: I told you that I had a very treacherous Memory.  Stand. 
I'll engage you shall remember me this Month, Rascal.  Beats him off, and Exit. Enter Lurewell and Parley. Lure. 
Fortboon, fortboon, fortboon, This is better than I expected; but Fortune still helps the Industrious.  Enter Clincher. Clin. 
Ah! The Devil take all Intriguing, say I, and him who first invented Canes:— That cursed Colonel has got such a Knack of beating his Men, that he has left the Mark of a Collar of Bandeliers about my Shoulders.  Lure. 
O my poor Gentleman! And was it beaten?  Clin. 
Yes, I have been beaten: But where's my clothes, my clothes?  Lure. 
What, you won't leave me so soon, my Dear, will ye?  Clin. 
Will ye? If ever I peep into a Colonel's Tent again, may I be forced to run the Gauntlet:— But my clothes, Madam.  Lure. 
I sent the Porter down stairs with them: Did not you meet him?  Clin. 
Meet him! No, not I  Parl. 
No? He went out of the Backdoor, and is run clear away I'm afraid.  Clin. 
Gone, say you? And with my clothes? my fine Jubilee clothes?— O, the Rogue, the Thief!— I'll have him hanged for Murder:— But how shall I get home in this Pickle?  Parl. 
I'm afraid, Sir, the Colonel will be back presently; for he dines at home.  Clin. 
Oh, than I must sneak off! Was ever Man so managed! to have his Coat well thrashed, and lose his Coat too? Exit.  Lure. 
Thus the Noble Poet spoke Truth. 
Nothing suits worse with Vice than want of Sense:  
Fools are still wicked at their own Expense.   Parl. 
Methinks Madam, the Injuries you have suffered by Men must be very great, to raise such heavy Resentments against the whole Sex.  Lur. 
The greatest Injury that Woman could sustain; They robbed me of that Jewel, which preserved, exalts our Sex almost to Angels: But, destroyed, debases us below the worst of Brutes, Mankind.  Parl. 
But I think, Madam, you Anger should be only confined to the Author of your Wrongs.  Lur. 
The Author! Alas, I know him not, which makes my Wrongs the greater.  Parl. 
Not know him! 'Tis odd Madam, that a Man should rob you of that same Jewel you mentioned, and you not know him.  Lur. 
Leave Trifling;— 'tis a Subject that always sours my Temper; but since by thy faithful Service I have some Reason to conside in your Secrecy, hear the strange Relation:— Some twelve, twelve Years ago I lived at my Father's House in Oxfordshire, blessed with Innocence, the ornamental, but weak Guard of blooming Beauty: I was then just Fifteen, an Age oft fatal to the Female Sex; Our Youth is tempting, our Innocence credulous, Romances moving, Love powerful, and Men are— Villains. Then it happened that three young Gentlemen from the University coming into the Country, and being benighted, and Strangers, called at my Father's: He was very glad of their Company, and offered them the Entertainment of his House.  Parl. 
Which they accepted, no Doubt: Oh! these strouling Collegians are never abroad, but upon some Mischief.  Lure. 
They had some private Frolic or Design in their Heads, as appeared by their not naming one another, which my Father perceiving, out of Civility, made no enquiry into their Affairs, two of them had a heavy, pedantic, University Air, a sort of disagreeable scholastic Boorishness in their Behaviour, but the third!  Parl. 
Ay! the third, Madam,— the third of all things, they say, is very Critical.  Lure. 
He was— but in short, Nature cut him out for my undoing;— he seemed to be about Eighteen.  Parl. 
A fit Match for your Fifteen as could be.  Lure. 
He had a genteel Sweetness in his Face, a graceful Comeliness in his Person, and his Tongue was fit to soothe soft Innocence to ruin: His very Looks were Witty, and his expressive Eyes spoke softer prettier things than Words could frame.  Parl. 
There will be Mischief by and by; I never heard a Woman talk so much of Eyes, but there were Tears presently after.  Lure. 
His Discourse was directed to my Father, but his Looks to me. After Supper I went to my Chamber, and read Cassandra, then went to Bed, and dreamed of him all Night, rose in the Morning, and made Verses; so fell desperately in Love— my Father was so pleased with his Conversation, that he begged their Company next Day; they consented, and next Night, Parley—  Par. 
Ay, next Night, Madam,— next Night (I'm afraid) was a Night indeed.  Lure. 
He bribed my Maid with his Gold out of her Honesty, and me with his Rhetoric out of my Honour— she admitted him to my Chamber, and there he vowed, and swore, and wept, and sighed— and conquered. Weeps.  Parl. 
Alack a day, poor Fifteen! Weeps.  Lure. 
He swore that he would come down from Oxford in a Fortnight, and marry me.  Parl. 
The old bait! the old bait— I was cheated just so myself aside. but had not you the Wit to know his Name all this while?  Lure. 
Alas! what Wit had Innocence like mine? he told me that he was under an Obligation to his Companions of concealing himself then, but that he would write to me in two Days, and let me know his Name and Quality. After all the binding Oaths of Constancy, joining Hands, exchanging Hearts, I gave him a Ring with this Motto, Love and Honour, than we parted; but I never saw the dear Deceiver more.  Par. 
No, nor never will, I warrant you.  Lure. 
I need not tell my Griefs, which my Father's Death made a fair Pretence for; he left me sole Heiress and Executrix to Three Thousand Pounds a Year; at last my Love for this single Dissembler, turned to a hatred of the whole Sex, and resolving to divert my Melancholy, and make my large Fortune subservient to my Pleasure and Revenge, I went to Travel, where in most Courts of Europe I have done some Execution: Here I will play my last Scene; then retire tomy Countryhouse, live solitary, and die a Penitent.  Par. 
But don't you still love this dear Dissembler?  Lure. 
Most certainly: 'Tis Love of him that keeps my Anger warms representing the Baseness of Mankind full in View; and makes my Resentments' work.— We shall have that old impotent Lecher Smuggler here to Night: I have Plot to swinge him and his precise Nephew Vizard.  Par. 
I think, Madam, you manage every body that comes in your way.  Lure. 
No, Parley, hose Men, whose Pretensions I found just and honourable, I fairly dismissed by letting them know my firm Resolutions never to marry. But those Villains that would attempt my Honour, I've seldom failed to manage.  Par. 
What d'ye think of the Colonel, Madam? I suppose his Designs are honourable.  Lure. 
That Man's a Riddle; There's something of Honour in his Tem●per that pleases: I'm sure he loves me too, because he's soon jealous, and soon satisfied: But he's a Man still.— When I once tried his Pulse about Marriage, his Blood ran as low as a Coward's: He swore indeed that he loved me; but could not marry me forsooth; because he was engaged elsewhere. So poor a Pretence made me disdain his Passion, which otherwise might have been uneasy to me.— But, hang him, I have teizd him enough:— Besides, Parley, I begin to be tired of my Revenge;— but this Buss and Guinea I must maul once more: I'll handsel his Woman's clothes for him. Go, get me Pen and Ink; I must write to Vizard too.  
Fortune this once assist me as before.  
Two such Machine's can never work in vain,  
As thy propitious Wheel, and my projecting Brain.   
The End of the Third Act.   

ACT IU.  

SCENE, Covent-Garden.  Wildair and Standard meeting. Stand. 
I Thought, Sir Harry, to have met you ere this in a more convenient Place; but since my Wrongs were without Ceremony, my Revenge shall be so too. Draw, Sir.  Wild. 
Draw, Sir! What, shall I draw?  Stand. 
Come, come, Sir, I like your facetious Humour well enough: It shows Courage and Unconcern: I know you brave; and therefore use you thus. Draw your Sword.  Wild. 
Nay, to oblige you I will draw: But the Devil take me if I fight— Perhaps, Colonel, this is the prettiest Blade you have seen.  Stand. 
I doubt not but the Arm is good; and therefore think both worth my Resentment. Come, Sir.  Wild. 
But, prithee Colonel, dost think that I am such a Madman as to send my Soul to the Devil, and my Body to the Worms upon every Fool's Errand?  Stand. 
I hope you're no Coward, Sir.  Wild. 
Coward, Sir! I have eight thousand Pounds a Year, Sir.  Stand. 
You fought in Flanders to my Knowledge.  Wild. 
Ay, for the same Reason that I wore a Red Coat: Because 'twas fashionable.  Stand. 
Sir, you fought a French Count in Paris.  Wild. 
True, Sir; he was a Beau, like myself: Now you're a Soldier, Colonel, and Fightings your Trade; And I think it downright Madness to contend with any Man in his Profession.  Stand. 
Come, Sir, no more Dallying: I shall take very unseemly Methods if you don't show yourself a Gentleman.  Wild. 
A Gentleman! Why there again now. A Gentleman! I tell you once more, Colonel, that I am a Baronet, and have eight thousand Pounds a Year. I can dance, sing, ride, fence, understand the Languages. Now, I can't conceive how running you through the Body should contribute one Jot more to my Gentility. But, pray Colonel, I had forgot to ask you: What's the Quarrel?  Stand. 
A Woman, Sir.  Wild. 
Then I put up my Sword. Take her.  Stand. 
Sir, my Honour's concerned.  Wild. 
Nay, if your Honour be concerned with a Woman, get it out of her Hands as soon as you can. An honourable Lover is the greatest Slave in Nature; some will say, the greatest Fool. Come, come, Colonel, this is something about the Lady Lurewell, I warrant; I can give you satisfaction in that Affair.  Stand. 
Do so then immediately.  Wild. 
Put up your Sword first: You know I dare fight: But I had much rather make you a Friend than an Enemy. I can assure you this Lady will prove too hard for one of your Temper. You have too much Honour, too much in Conscience, to be a Favourite with the Ladies.  Stand. 
I am assured, Sir, she never gave you any Encouragement.—  Wild. 
A Man can never hear Reason with a Sword in his Hand. Sheath your Weapon; and than if I don't satisfy you, sheath it in my Body.  Stand. 
Give me but Demonstration of her granting you any Favour, and 'tis enough.  Wild. 
Will you take my Word?  Stand. 
Pardon me, Sir, I cannot.  Wild. 
Will you believe your own Eyes?  Stand. 
'Tis ten to one whether I shall or no: They have deceived me already.  Wild. 
That's hard.— But some means I shall devise for your Satisfaction.— We must fly this Place; else that Cluster of Mobb will overwhelm us. Exeunt.  Enter Mobb, Tom Errand 's Wife hurrying in Clincher senior in Errand's clothes. Wife. 
O, the Villain, the Rogue, he has murdered my Husband: Ah, my poor Timothy! Crying.  Clin. 
Dem your Timothy;— Your Husband has murdered me, Woman: For he has carried away my sine Jubilee clothes.  Wife. 
Ah, you Cutthroat, have you not got his clothes upon your Back there?— Neighbours, don't you know poor Timothy's Coat and Apron?  Mobb. 
Ay, ay, 'tis the same.  First Mobb. 
What shall we do with him, Neighbours?  Second Mobb. 
We'll pull him in pieces.  First Mobb. 
No, no; then we may be hanged for Murder; but we'll drown him.  Clin. 
Ah, good People, pray don't drown me; for I never learned to swi● in all my Life. Ah, this plaguy Intriguing!  Mobb. 
Away with him, away with him to the Thames.  Clin. 
Oh, if I had but my Swimming Girdle now.  Enter Constable. Const. 
Hold, Neighbours, I command the Peace.  Wife. 
O, Mr. Constable, here's a Rogue that has murdered my Husband, and robbed him of his clothes.  Const. 
Murder and Robbery● then he must be a Gentleman. Hands off there, he must not be abused.— Give an Account of yourself: Are you a Gentleman?  Clin. 
No, Sir, I am a Beau.  Const. 
Then you have killed no body, I'm persuaded. How came you by these clothes, Sir?  Clin. 
You must know, Sir, that walking along, Sir, I don't know how, Sir; I can't tell where, Sir; and— so the Porter and I changed clothes, Sir.  Const. 
Very well, the Man speaks Reason, and like a Gentleman.  Wife. 
But pray Mr. Constable, ask him how he changed clothes with him.  Const. 
Silence, Woman, and done't disturb the Court.— Well, Sir, how did you change clothes?  Clin. 
Why, Sir, he pulled off my Coat, and I drew off his: so I put on his Coat, and he puts on mine.  Const. 
Why Neighbours, I don't find that he's guilty: Search him; and if he carries no Arms about him, we'll let him go.  They search his Pockets, and pull out his Pistols Clin. 
O Gemini! my Jubilee Pistols.  Const. 
What, a Case of Pistols! Then the Case is plain. Speak, what are you, Sir? whence come you, and whither go you?  Clin. 
Sir, I came from Russel street, and am going to the Jubilee.  Wise. 
You shall go to the Gallows, you Rogue.  Const. 
Away with him, away with him to Newgate straight.  Clin. 
I shall go to the Jubilee now indeed. Exeunt.  Re-enter Wildair and Standard. Wild. 
In short, Colonel, 'tis all Nonsense: Fight for a Woman! Hard by 〈◊〉 the Lady's House; if you please, we'll wait on her together: You shall draw your Sword, I'll draw my Snush-Box: You shall produce your Wounds received in War; I'll relate mine by Cupid's Dart:— You shall look big; I'll ogle:— You shall swear; I'll sigh:— You shall sa, sa, and I'll coupee; And if she flies not to my Arms, like a Hawk to its Perch, my Dancing Master deserves to be damned.  Stand. 
With the generality of Women, I grant you, these Arts may prevail.  Wild. 
Generality of Women! Why there again you're out. They're all alike, Sir: I never heard of any one that was particular, but one.  Stand. 
Who was she, pray?  Wild. 
Penelope, I think she's called; and that's a Poetical Story too. When will you find a Poet in our Age make a Woman so chaste?  Stand. 
Well, Sir Harry, your facetious Humour can disguise Falsehood, and make Calumny pass for satire: But you have promised me ocular Demonstration that she favours you: make that good, and I shall then maintain Faith and Female to be as inconsistent as Truth and Falsehood.  Wild. 
Nay, by what you have told me, I am satisfied that she imposes on us all; And Vizard too seems what I still suspected him: but his Honesty once mis●●●●●d, spoils his Knavery:— But will you be convinced if our Plot succeeds;  Stand. 
I rely on your Word and Honour, Sir Harry; which, if I doubted, my Distrust would cancel the Obligation of their Security.  Wild. 
Then meet me half an hour hence at the Rummer: You must oblige me by taking a hearty Glass with me toward the fitting me out for a certain Project which this Night I undertake.  Stand. 
I guess by the Preparation, that Woman's the Design.  Wild. 
Yes, faith,— I am taken dangerously ill with two foolish Maladies, Modesty and Love; the first I'll cure with Burgundy, and my Love by a Night's Lodging with the Damsel. A sure Remedy. Probatum est.  Stand. 
I'll certainly meet you, Sir. Exeunt severally.  Enter Clincher junior and Dicky. Clin. 
Ah! Dicky, this London is a sad Place, a sad vicious Place: I wish that I were in the Country again: And this Brother of mine! I'm sorry he's so great a Rake: I had rather see him dead than see him thus.  Dick. 
Ay, Sir, He'll spend his whole Estate at this same Jubilee. Who, d'ye think lives at this same Jubilee?  Clin. 
Who pray?  Dick. 
The Pope.  Clin. 
The Devil he does! my Brother go to the Place where the Pope dwells! he's bewitched sure.  Enter Tom Errand in Clincher Senior's clothes. Dick. 
Indeed I believe he is, for he's strangely attired.  Clin. 
Altered! why he looks like a Jesuit already.  Erra. 
This Lace will sell. What a Blockhead was the Fellow to trust me with his Coat! If I can get 'cross the Garden, down to the Waterside, I'm pretty secure. Aside  Clin. 
Brother!— Alaw! O Gemini? are you my Brother?  Dick. 
I seize you in the King's Name, Sir.  Erra. 
O Lord, should this prove some Parliament Man now!  Clin. 
Speak you Rogue, what are you.  Erra. 
A poor Porter, Sir, and going of an Errand.  Dick. 
What Errand? speak you Rogue.  Erra. 
A Fool's Errand, I'm afraid.  Clin. 
Who sent you?  Erra. 
A Beau, Sir.  Dick. 
No, no, the Rogue has murdered your Brother, and stripped him of his clothes.  Clin. 
Murdered my Brother! O Crimini! O my poor Jubilee Brother!— stay, by jupiter Ammon, I'm Heir: Thou speak Sirrah, Have you killed him? Confess that you have killed him, and I'll give you Half a Crown.  Erra. 
Who I, Sir? alack-a-day, Sir, I never killed any Man, but a Carrier's Horse once.  Clin. 
Then you shall certainly be Hanged, but confess that you killed him, and we'll let you go.  Erra. 
Telling the Truth hangs a Man, but confessing a Lie can do no harm, besides, if the worst comes to the worst, I can but deny it again— Well, Sir, since I must tell you, I did kill him.  Clin. 
Here's your Money, Sir,— but are you sure you killed him dead.  Erra. 
Sir, I'll swear it before any Judge in England.  Dick. 
But are you sure that he's Dead in Law.  Erra. 
Dead in Law! I can't tell whether he be Dead in Law. But he's as dead as a Door Nail; for I gave him seven knocks on the Head with a Hammer.  Dick. 
Then you have the Estate by the Statute. Any Man that's knocked o'th' Head is Dead in Law.  Clin. 
But are you sure he was Compos Mentis when he was killed?  Erra. 
I suppose he was, Sir, for he told me nothing to the contrary afterwards.  Clin. 
hay!— then I go to the jubilee— Strip, Sir, strip. By jupiter Ammon strip.  Dick. 
Ah! don't swear, Sir. Puts on his Brother's clothes.  Clin. 
Swear, Sir, Zounds, han't I got the Estate, Sir? Come, Sir, now I'm in Mourning for my Brother.  Err. 
I hope you'll let me go now, Sir.—  Clin. 
Yes, yes, Sir, but you must first do me the Favour, to swear positively before a Magistrate, that you killed him dead, that I may enter upon the Estate without any Trouble. By jupiter Ammon all my Religion's gone, since I put on these fine clothes— hay, call me a Coach somebody.  Erra. 
Ay, Master let me go, and I'll call one immediately.  Clin. 
No, no, Dicky, carry this Spark before a Justice, and when he has made Oath, you may discharge him. And I'll go see Angelica. Exeunt Dick and Errand. Now that I'm an Elder Brother. I'll Court, and Swear, and Rant, and Rake, and go to the jubilee with the best of them. Exit.   

SCENE, Lurewell's House.  Enter Lurewell and Parley. Lure. 
Are you sure that Vizard had my Letter.  Par. 
Yes, yes, Madam, one of your Ladyship's Footmen gave it to him in the Park, and he told the Bearer, with all transports of Joy, that he would be punctual to a Minute.  Lure. 
Thus most Villains, some time or other, are punctual to their Ruin; and Hypocrisy, by imposing on the World, at last deceives itself. Are all things prepared for his Reception.  Par. 
Exactly to your Ladyship's Order, the Alderman too is just come, dressed and cooked up for Iniquity.  Lure. 
Then he has got Woman's clothes on.  Parl. 
Yes, Madam, and has passed upon the Family for your Nurse.  Lure. 
Convey him into that Closet, and put out the Candles, and tell him, I'll wait on him presently. As Parley goes to put out the Candle, somebody Knocks.  Lure. 
This must be some Clown without Manners, or a Gentleman above Ceremony. Who's there?  Wild. 
Sings. 
Thus Damon knocked at Celia's Door,  
He sighed, and begged, and wept, and swear,  
The Sign was so,  [knocks] 
She answered, No,  [knocks thrice] 
No, no, no.  
Again he sighed, again he prayed,  
No, Damon, no, I am afraid,  
Consider, Damon, I'm a Maid,  
Consider,  
No,  
I'm a Maid.  
No, etc.  
At last his Sighs and Tears made way,  
She rose, and softly turned the Key,  
Come in, said she, but do not stay.  
I may conclude  
You will be rude,  
But if you are, you may.   Enters. Exit Parley. Lure. 
'Tis too early for Serenading, Sir Harry.  Wild. 
Wheresoever Love is, there Music is proper, there's an harmonious consent in their Natures, and when rightly joined, they make up the Chorus of Earthly Happiness.  Lure. 
But, Sir Harry, what Tempest drives you here at this Hour.  Wild. 
No Tempest, Madam, but as fair Wether as ever enticed a Citizen's Wife to Cuckold her Husband in fresh Air.  
Love, Madam. Wild. taking her by the Hand.  Lure. 
A● pure and white as Angels soft desires, is't not so?  Wild. 
Fi●●ce, as when ripe consenting Beauty Faces.  Lure. 
O Villain! what Privilege has Man to our Destruction, that thus they hunt our Ruin? [Aside] If this be a Love Token, Wild. drops a Ring, she takes it up. your mistress's Favours hang very loose about you, Sir.  Wild. 
I can't justly, Madam, pay your Trouble of taking it up by any thing, but desiring you to wear it.  Lure. 
You Gentlemen have the cunningest ways of playing the Fool, and are so industrious in your Profuseness. Speak seriously, am I beholding to Chance or Design for this Ring?  Wild. 
To design upon my Honour, and I hope my Design will succeed.  Aside. Lure. 
And what shall I give you for such a fine thing. Both sing.  Wild. 
You'll give me another, you'll give me another fine thing.  Lure. 
Shall I be free with you, Sir Harry.  Wild. 
With all my Heart, Madam, so I may be free with you.  Lure. 
Then plainly, Sir, I shall beg the favour to see you some other time, for at this very Minute I have two Lovers in the House.  Wild. 
Then to be as plain, I must be gone this Minute, for I must see another Mistress within these two Hours.  Lure. 
Frank and free.  Wild. 
As you with me— Madam, your most humble Servant. Exit.  Lure. 
Nothing can disturb his Humour. Now for my Merchant and Vizard. Exit, and takes the Candles with her.  Enter Parley, leading in Smugler, dressed in Woman's clothes. Parl. 
This way, Mr. Alderman.  Smug. 
Well, Mrs. Parley,— I'm obliged to you for this Trouble, here are a couple of Shillings for you. Times are hard, very hard indeed, but next time I'll steal a pair of silk Stockings from my Wife, and bring them to you— What are you fumbling about my Pockets for—?  Parl. 
Only settling the Plates of your Gown, here, Sir, get into this Closet, and my Lady will wait on you presently.  Puts him into the Closet, runs out, and returns with Vizard. Viz. 
Where wouldst thou lead me, my dear auspicious little Pilot?  Parl. 
You're almost in Port, Sir, my Lady's in the Closet, and will come out to you immediately.  Viz. 
Let me thank thee as I ought. Kisses her.  Parl. 
Pshaw! who has hired me best? a couple of Shillings, and a couple of Kisses. Exit.  Viz. 
Propitious Darkness guides the Lovers Steps, and Night that shadows outward Sense, lights up our inward Joy. Night! the great awful Ruler of Mankind, which, like the Persian Monarch hides its Royalty to raise the Veneration of the World. Under thy easy Reign Dissemblers may speak Truth; all slavish Forms and Ceremonies laid aside, and generous Villainy may act without Constraint.  Smug. 
peeping out of the Closet. Bless me! what Voice is this?  Viz. 
Our hungry Appetites, like the wild Beasts of Prey, now scour abroad, to gorge their craving Maws, the pleasure of Hypocrisy, like a chained Lion, once broke loose, wildly indulges its new Freedom, ranging through all unbounded Joys.  Smug. 
My Nephew's Voice! and certainly possessed with an Evil Spirit, he talks as profanely, as an Actor possessed with a Poet.  Viz. 
Ha! I hear a Voice, Madam,— my Life, my Happiness, where are you, Madam?  Smug. 
Madam! he takes me for a Woman too, I'll try him. Where have you left your Sanctity, Mr. Vizard?  Viz. 
Talk no more of that ungrateful Subject— I left it where it has only business with Daylight, 'tis needless to wear a Mask in the Dark.  Smug. 
O the Rogue, the Rogue!— The World takes you for a very sober virtuous Gentleman.  Viz. 
Ay, Madam, that adds Security to all my Pleasures— with me a Cully-Squire may squander his Estate, and ne'er be thought a Spendthrift— With me a Holy Elder may zealously be drunk, and toast his tuneful Nose in Sack, to make it hold forth clearer— But what is most my Praise, the formal Rigid she that rails at Vice and Men, with me secures her losest Pleasures, and her strictest Honour— she who with scornful Mien, and virtuous Pride, disdains the Name of Whore, with me can Wanton, and laugh at the deluded World.  Smug. 
How have I been deceived! then you are very great among the Ladies.  Viz. 
Yes, Madam, they know that like a Mole in the Earth, I dig deep but invisible, not like those fluttering noisy Sinners, whose Pleasure is the proclamation of their Faults, those empty Flashes who no sooner kindle, but they must blaze to alarm the World. But come, Madam, you delay our Pleasures.  Smug. 
He surely takes me for the Lady Lurewell— she has made him an Appointment too— but I'll be revenged of both— Well, Sir, what are these you are so intimate with.  Viz. 
Come, come, Madam, you know very well— those who stand so high, that the vulgar envy even their Crimes, whose Figure adds privilege to their Sin, and makes it pass unquestioned; fair, high, pampered Females, whose speaking Eyes, and piercing Voice, would warm the Statue of a Stoic, and animate his cold Marble with the Soul of an Epicure, all ravishing, lovely, soft, and kind, like you.  Smug. 
I am very lovely and soft indeed, you shall find me much harder than you imagine, Friend— Well, Sir, but I suppose your Dissimulation has some other Motive besides Pleasure.  Viz. 
Yes, Madam, the honestest Motive in the World, Interest— you must know, Madam, that I have an old Uncle, Alderman Smuggler, you have seen him, I suppose.  Smug. 
Yes, yes, I have some small Acquaintance with him.  Viz. 
'Tis the most knavish, precise, covetous old Rogue, that ever died of a Gout.  Smug. 
Ah! the young Son of a Whore. Well, Sir, and what of him?  Viz. 
Hell hungers not more for wretched Souls, than he for illgot Pelf— and yet (what's wonderful) he that would stick at no profitable Villainy himself, loves Holiness in another— he prays all Sunday for the Sins of the Week past— he spends all Dinnertime in too tedious Graces, and what he designs a Blessing to the Meat, proves a Curse to his Family— he's the most—  Smug. 
Well, well, Sir, I know him very well.  Viz. 
Then, Madam, he has a swinging Estate, which I design to Purchase as a Saint, and spend like a Gentleman. He got it by Cheating, and should lose it by Deceit. By the pretence of my Zeal and Sobriety, I'll cozen the old Miser one of these Days out of a Settlement, and Deed of Conveyance—  Smug. 
It shall be a Deed to convey you to the Gallows then, you young Dog. aside.  Viz. 
And no sooner he's Dead, but I'll rattle over his Grave with a Coach and Six, to inform his covetous Ghost how genteel I spend his Money.  Smug. 
I'll prevent you, Boy, for I'll have my Money buried with me.  Aside. Viz. 
Bless me, Madam, here's a Light coming this way, I must fly immediately, when shall I see you, Madam.  Smug. 
Sooner than you expect, my Dear.  Viz. 
Pardon me, dear Madam, I would not be seen for the World. I would sooner forfeit my Life, nay, my Pleasure, than my Reputation.  Exit. Smug. 
Reputation! Reputation! that poor Word suffers a great deal— Well! thou art the most accomplished Hypocrite that ever made a grave plodding Face over a Dish of Coffee, and a Pipe of Tobacco; he owes me for seven Years maintenance, and shall pay me by seven Years Imprisonment; and when I die, I'll leave him the Fee-Simple of a Rope and a Shilling— who are these? I begin to be afraid of some Mischief— I wish that I were safe within the City Liberties— I'll hide my 〈◊〉  Star as close. Enter Butler, with other Servants and Lights. But. 
I say there are Two Spoons wanting, and I'll search the whole House— Two Spoons will be no small gap in my Quarter's Wages—  Seru. 
When did you miss them, james?  But. 
Miss them. Why, I miss them now; in short they must be along you, and if you don't return them, I'll go to the Cunning-Man to Morrow-Morning; my Spoons I want, and my Spoons I will have.  Seru. 
Come, come, search about. Search and discover Smugler.  
Ah! who's this?  But. 
Hark'ee, good Woman, what makes you hide yourself? What are you ashamed of.  Smug. 
Ashamed of! O Lord, Sir, I'm an honest Old Woman that never was ashamed of any thing.  But. 
What are you, a Midwife then? Speak, did not you see a couple of stray Spoons in your Travels?  Smug. 
Stray Spoons!  But. 
Ay, ay, stray Spoons; in short you stole them, and I'll shake your old Limbs to pieces, if you don't deliver them presently.  Smug. 
Bless me! a Reverend Elder of Seventy Years old accused for Petty-Lacenary!— why, search me, good People, search me, and if you find any Spoons about me, you shall burn me for a Witch.  But. 
Ay, ay, we will search you Mistress.  They search and pull the Spoons out of his Pockets. Smug. 
Oh! the Devil, the Devil!  But. 
Where, where is he? Lord bless us, she is a Witch in good earnest, may be.  Smug. 
O, it was some Devil, some Covent-Garden, or St. James' Devil, that put them in my Pocket.  But. 
Ay, ay, you shall be hanged for a Thief, burnt for a Witch, and then carted for a Bawd. Speak, what are you?  Enter Lurewell. Smug. 
I'm the Lady Lurewell's Nurse.  Lure. 
What Noise is this?  But. 
Here is an old Succubus, Madam, that has stole two silver Spoons, and says, she's your Nurse.  Lure. 
My Nurse! O the Impudent old Jade, I never saw the withered Creature before.  Smug. 
Then I'm finely caught. O Madam! Madam don't you know me? Don't you remember Buss and Guinea?  Lure. 
Was ever such Impudence? I know thee! why thou'rt as Brazen as a Bawd in the Side-Box— Take her before a Justice, and then to Newgate, away.  Smug. 
O! consider, Madam, that I'm an Alderman.  Lure. 
Consider, Sir, that you're a Compound of Covetousness, Hypocrisy, and Knavery; and must be punished accordingly— You must be in Petticoats, Gouty Monster, must ye! You must Buss and Guinea too, you must tempt a Lady's Honour, old satire, away with him.  Hurry him off. 
Still may our Sex thus Frauds of Men oppose,  
Still may our Arts delude these tempting Foes.  
May Honour Rule, and never fall betrayed,  
But Vice be caught in Nets for Virtue laid.   
The End of the Fourth Act.   

ACT V.  

SCENE, Lady Darling's House.  Darling and Angelica. Darling. 
DAughter, since you have to deal with a Man of so peculiar a Temper, you must not think the general Arts of Love can secure him; you may therefore allow such a Courtier some Encouragement extraordinary, without reproach to your Modesty.  Angel. 
I am sensible, Madam, that a formal Nicety makes our Modesty sit awkward, and appears rather a Chain to Enslave, than Bracelet to Adorn us— it should show, when unmolested, easy and innocent as a Dove, but strong and vigorous as a Falcon, when assaulted.  Darl. 
I'm afraid, Daughter, you mistake Sir Harry's Gaiety for Dishonour.  Angel. 
Tho' Modesty, Madam, may Wink, it must not Sleep, when powerful Enemies are abroad— I must confess, that of all men's, I would not see Sir Harry Wildair's Faults; nay, I could wrest most suspicious Words a thousand ways, to make them look like Honour— but, Madam, in spite of Love I must hate him, and curse those Practices which taint our Nobility, and rob all virtuous Women of the bravest Men—  Darl. 
You must certainly be mistaken, Angelica, for I'm satisfied Sir Harry's designs are only to court, and marry you.  Angel. 
His pretence, perhaps, was such, but Women now, like Enemies, are attacked; whether by Treachery, or fairly Conquered, the Glory of Triumph is the same— pray, Madam, by what means were you made acquainted with his Designs?  Darl. 
Means, Child! why my Cousin Vizard, who, I'm sure is your sincere Friend, sent him. He brought me this Letter from my Cousin—  Gives her the Letter, which she opens. Angel. 
Ha! Vizard! then I'm abused in earnest— would Sir Harry, by his Instigation, fix a base Affront upon me? no, I can't suspect him of so ungenteel a Crime— this Letter shall trace the Truth— [Aside.] my Suspicions, Madam, are much cleared, and I hope to satisfy your Ladyship in my Management, when next I see Sir Harry.  Enter Servant. Seru. 
Madam, here's a Gentleman below calls himself Wildair.  Darl. 
Conduct him up. Daughter, I won't doubt your Discretion.  Exit Darling. Enter Wildair. Wild. 
O, the Delights of Love and Burgundy—! Madam, I have toasted your Ladyship fifteen Bumpers successively, and swallowed Cupid's like Loches, to every Glass.  Ang. 
And what then, Sir?  Wild. 
Why then, Madam, the Wine has got into my Head; and the Cupids into my Heart: and unless by quenching quick my Flame, you kindly ease the Smart, I'm a lost Man, Madam.  Ang. 
Drunkenness, Sir Harry, is the worst Pretence a Gentleman can make for Rudeness: For the Excuse is as scandalous as the Fault:— Therefore pray consider who you are so free with, Sir; a Woman of Condition, that can call half a dozen Footmen upon Occasion.  Wild. 
Nay, Madam, if you have a mind to toss me in a Blanket, half a dozen Chambermaids would do better Service.— Come, come, Madam, tho' the Wine makes me lisp, yet has it taught me to speak plainer. By all the Dust of my ancient Progenitors I must this Night quarter my Coat of Arms with yours.  Angel. 
Nay, than who waits there? Enter Footmen.  
Take hold of that mad Man, and bind him.  Wild. 
Nay, than Burgundy's the Word, and Slaughter will ensue. Hold,— do you know, Scoundrils, that I have been drinking victorious Burgundy?  draws. Servants. 
We know you're drunk, Sir.  Wild. 
Then how have you the Impudence, Rascals, to assault a Gentleman with a couple of Flasks of Courage in his Head?  Servants. 
Sir, we must do as our young Mistress commands us.  Wild. 
Nay, then, have among ye, Dogs. Throws Money among them: They scramble and take it up: He pelting them out, shuts the Door, and returns. Rascals, Poultrons,— I have charmed the Dragon, and now the Fruits my own.  Angel. 
O, the mercenary Wretches! This was a Plot to betray me.  Wild. 
I have put the whole Army to flight: And, now take the General Prisoner. Laying hold on her.  Angel. 
I conjure you, Sir, by the sacred Name of Honour, by your dead Father's Name, and the fair Reputation of your Mother's Chastity, that you offer not the least Offence.— Already you have wronged me past Redress.  Wild. 
Thou art the most unaccountable Creature.  Angel. 
What Madness, Sir Harry, what wild Dream of loose Desire could prompt you to attempt this Baseness? View me well.— The Brightness of my Mind, methinks, should lighten outwards, and let you see your Mistake in my Behaviour. I think it shines with so much Innocence in my Face, that it should dazzle all your vicious Thoughts: Think not I am defenceless ' cause alone. Your very self is Guard against yourself I'm sure there's something generous in your Soul; My Words shall search it out, and Eyes shall sire its for my own Defence.  Wild. 
Ha! Her Voice bears a commanding Accent! Every Syllable is pointed.— By Heavens I love her:— I feel her piercing Words turn the wild Current of my Blood; and thrill through all my Veins.  Angel. 
View me well: consider me with a sober Thought, free from those Fumes of Wine that cast a Mist before your Sight; and you shall find that every Glance from my reproaching Eye is armed with sharp Resentment, and with repelling Rays that look Dishonour dead.  Wild. 
I cannot view you, Madam: For when you speak, all the Faculties of my charmed Soul crowd to my attentive Ears; desert my Eyes, which gaze insensibly.— Whatever Charm inspires your Looks, whether of Innocence or Vice, 'tis lovely, past Expression.  Angel. 
If my Beauty has power to raise a Flame, be sure it is a virtuous one: if otherwise, 'tis owing to the Foulness of your own Thought, which throwing this mean Affront upon my Honour, has alarmed my Soul, and Fires it with a brave Disdain.  Wild. 
Where can the Difference lie 'twixt such Hypocrisy and Truth Madam, whate'er my unruly Passion did at first suggest; I now must own you've turned my Love to Veneration, and my unmannerly Demands to a most humble Prayer.— Your surprising Conduct has quenched the gross material Flame; but raised a subtle piercing Fire, which flies like lambent Lightning, through my Blood, disdaining common Fuel, preys upon the nobler Part, my Soul.  Ang. 
Grants, heavens', his Words be true! [aside] Then, as you hope that Passion should be happy, tell me without Reserve, what Motives have engaged you thus to affront my Virtue?  Wild. 
Affront her Virtue! Ah, something I fear.— Your Question, Madam is a Riddle, and cannot be resolved; but the most proper Answer the old Gentlewoman can make, who passes for your Mother.  Ang. 
Passes for my Mother! O Indignation! Were I a Man, you durst not use me thus:— But the mean poor Abuse you cast on me, reflects upon yourself: Our Sex still strikes an Awe upon the Brave, and only Cowards dare affront a Woman.  Wild. 
Then, Madam, I have a fair Claim to Courage; for, by all Hopes of Happiness, I ne'er was awed so much, nor ever felt the Power of Fear before:— But since I can't dissolve this Knot,— I'll cut it at a Stroke.  Vizard 
(who, I fear is a Villain) told me you were a Prostitute; that he had known you, and sent a Letter, intimating, my Designs to the old Gentlewoman, who, I supposed had licenced my Proceedings by leaving us so oft in private.  Ang. 
That Vizard is a Villain, damned beyond the Curses of an injured Woman, is most true; But, that his Letter signified any dishonourable Proceedings, is as false.  Wild. 
I appeal to that for Pardon or Condemnation: He read it to me● and the Contents were as I have declared, only with this Addition; That I would scruple no price for the Enjoyment of my Pleasure.  Ang. 
No price! What have I suffered? to be made a Prostitute for Sale!— 'Tis an unequalled Curse upon our Sex, That Woman's Virtue should so much depend on lying Fame, and scandalous Tongues of Men.— Read that: Then judge how far I'm injured, and you deceived.  Wild. 
reads. 
Out of my earnest Inclination to serve your Ladyship, and my Cousin Angelica, I have sent Sir Harry Wildair to court my Cousin.— [The Villain read to me a clear different thing.] He's a Gentleman of great Parts and Fortune:— [Damn his Compliment.] and would make your Daughter very happy in a Husband.— [O Lord, O Lord, what have I been doing!—] I hope your Ladyship will entertain him as becomes his Birth and Fortune, and the Friend of, Madam,  
Your Ladyship's most Devoted and Humble Servant, VIZARD.   Ang. 
Now, Sir,— I hope you need no Instigation to redress my Wrongs, since Honour points the Way.  Wild. 
Redress your Wrongs! Instruct me, Madam: for all your Injuries tenfold recoiled on me. I have abused Innocence, murdered Honour, stabbed it in the nicest part: A fair Lady's Fame.— Instruct me, Madam: For my Reason's sled, and hides its guilty Face, as conscious of its Master's Shame.  Ang. 
Think, Sir, that my Blood, for many Generations, has run in the purest Channel of unsullied Honour.  
Consider what a tender Flower is Woman's Reputation, which, the least Air of foul Detraction blasts.— Call then to mind your rude and scandalous Behaviour:— Remember the base Price you offered:— then think that Vizard, Villain Vizard, caused all this, yet lives. That's all.— Farewell.  going. Wild. 
Stay, Madam; he's too base an Offering for such Purity: But Justice has inspired me with a nobler Thought.— I throw a purer Victim at your Feet, my honourable Love and Fortune: If chastest, purest Passion, with a large and fair Estate, can make amends, they're yours this Moment.— The matrimonial tie shall bind us Friends this Hour.— Nay, Madam, no Reply, unless you smile.— Let but a pleasing Look forerun my Sentence: then raise me up to Joy.  Ang. 
Rise, Sir, [smiling] I'm pleased to find my Sentiments of you, which were always Generous, so generously answered: And since I have met a Man above the common Level of your Sex, I think myself disengaged from the Formality of mine, and shall therefore venture to inform you, that with Joy I receive your honourable Love.  Wild. 
Beauty without Art! Virtue without Pride! and Love without Ceremony! The Day breaks glorious to my o'erclouded Thought, and darts its smiling Beams into my Soul. My Love is heightened by a glad Devotion; and Virtue ratifies the Bliss to feast the purer Mind.  Ang. 
You must promise me, Sir Harry; to have a care of Burgundy henceforth.  Wild. 
Fear not, sweet Innocence; Your Presence, like a Guardian Angel, shall fright away all Vice. 
In your sweet Eyes and Words there is a Charm  
To settle Madness, or a F●end disarm  
Of all his Spite, his Torments and his Cares:  
And make him change his Curses into Prayers.   Exeunt.  

SCENE Newgate, Clincher senior solus.  Clin. 
How severe and melancholy are Newgate Reflections? Last Week my Father died: Yesterday I turned Beau: To day I am laid by the heels, and to morrow shall be hung by the Neck.— I was agreeing with a Bookseller about Printing an Account of my Journey through France to Italy; But now, the History of my Travels through Holborn to Tyburn,— The last and dying Speech of Beau Clincher, that was going to the jubilee.— Come, a Halfpenny apiece. A sad Sound, a sad Sound, faith. 'Tis one Way to have a Man's Death make a great Noise in the World.  Enter Smugler and Jailer. Smug. 
Well, Friend, I have told you who I am: so send these Letters into Thames-street, as directed; they are to Gentlemen that will bail me. Ex. Jailer.  
Eh!— this Newgate is a very populous Place: Here's Robbery and Repentance in every Corner.— Well, Friend, what are you, a Cutthroat or a Bum-Bayliff?  Clin. 
What are you, Mistress, a Bawd or a Witch? harkee, if you are a Witch, d'ye see, I'll give you a hundred Pounds to mount me on a Broom-staff, and whip me away to the Jubilee.  Smug. 
The Jubilee! O, you young Rakehell, what brought you here?  Clin. 
Ah, you old Rogue, what brought you here, if you go to that?  Smug. 
I knew, Sir, what your Powdering, your Prinking, your Dancing and your Frisking would come to.  Clin. 
And I knew what your Cozening, your Extortion, and your Smugling would come to.  Smug. 
Ay, Sir, you must break your Indentures, and run to the Devil in a full Bottom Wig, must you?  Clin. 
Ay Sir, and you must put off your Gravity, and run to the Devil in Petticoats:— You design to swing in Masquerade, Master, d●ye?  Smug. 
Ay, you must go to Plays too, Sirrah: Lord, Lord! What Business has a Prentice at a Playhouse, unless it be to hear his Master made a Cuckold, and his Mistress a Whore? 'Tis ten to one now, but some malicious Poet has my Character upon the Stage within this Month: 'Tis a hard matter now, that an honest sober Man can't sin in private for this plaguy Stage. I gave an honest Gentleman five Guineas myself towards writing a Book against it: And it has done no good, we see.  Clin. 
Well, well, Master, take Courage; our Comfort is, we have lived together, and shall die together, only with this difference, that I have lived like a Fool, and shall die like a Knave; and you have lived like a Knave, and shall die like a Fool.  Smug. 
No, Sirrah! I have sent a Messenger for my clothes, and shall get out immediately, and shall be upon your Jury by and by.— Go to Prayers, you Rogue, go to Prayers. Exit Smug.  Clin. 
Prayers! 'Tis a hard taking, when a Man must, say Grace to the Gallows.— Ah, this cursed Intriguing! Had I swung handsomely in a silken Garter now, I had died in my Duty; but to hang in Hemp, like the Vulgar, 'tis very ungenteel.  Enter Tom Errand. 
A Reprieve, a Reprieve, thou dear, dear— damned Rogue, where have you been? Thou art the most welcome— Son of a Whore, where's my clothes?  Erra. 
Sir, I see where mine are: Come, Sir, strip, Sir, strip.  Clin. 
What, Sir, will you abuse a Gentleman?  Erra. 
A Gentleman! ha, ha, ha, d'ye know where you are, Sir? Were all Gentlemen here,— I stand up for Liberty and Property.— Newgate's a Commonwealth. No Courtier has Business among us; Come, Sir.  Clin. 
Well, but stay, stay till I send for my own clothes: I shall get out presently.  Erra. 
No, no, Sir, I'll ha' you into the Dungeon, and uncase you.  Clin. 
Sir, you can't master me; for I'm twenty thousand strong.  Exeunt struggling.  

The SCENE changes to Lady Darling's House.  Enter Wildair with Letters, Servants following. Wild. 
Here, fly all around, and bear these as directed; you to Westminster,— you to St. James',— and you into the City.— Tell all my Friends a Bridegroom's Joy invites their Presence: Look all of ye like Bridegrooms also: All appear with hospitable Looks, and bear a Welcome in your Faces.— Tell 'em I'm married. If any ask to whom, make no Reply; but tell 'em that I'm married, that Joy shall crown the Day, and Love the Night. Be gone, fly.  Enter Standard. 
A thousand Welcomes, Friend: my Pleasure's now complete, since I can share it with my Friend: Brisk Joy shall bound from me to you: Then back again; and, like the Sun, grow warmer by Reflection.  Stand. 
You're always pleasant, Sir Harry; but this transcends yourself; whence proceeds it?  Wild. 
Canst thou not guests? my Friend— whence flows all Earhtly Joy? What is the Life of Man, and Soul of Pleasure?— Woman:— What fires the Heart with Transport, and the Soul with Raptures? Lovely Woman.— What is the Master Stroak and Smile of the Creation, but Charming Virtuous Woman?— When Nature in the general Composition first brought Woman forth, like a flushed Poet, ravished with his Fancy, with Ecstasy: The blessed, the fair Production.— Methinks, my Friend, you relish not my Joy. What is the Cause?  Stand. 
Canst thou not guests?— What is the Bane of Man, and Scourge of Life, but Woman?— What is the Heathenish Idol Man sets up, and is damned for worshipping? Treacherous Woman:— What are those Eyes, like Basiliksks, shine beautiful for sure Destruction, whose Smiles are dangerous as the Grin of Fiends? But false deluding Woman.— Woman whose Composition inverts Humanity; their Body's Heavenly, but their Souls are Clay.  Wild. 
Come, come, Colonel, this is too much: I know your Wrongs received from Lurewell, may excuse your Resentments against her: But 'tis unpardonable to charge the Failings of a single Woman upon the whole Sex.— I have found one, whose Virtues—  Stand. 
So have I, Sir Harry; I have found one whose Pride's above yielding to a Prince: And if Lying, Dissembling, Perjury and Falsehood be no Breaches in Woman's Honour, she's as innocent as Infancy.  Wild. 
Well, Colonel, I find your Opinion grows stronger by Opposition, I shall now therefore wave the Argument, and only beg you for this Day to make a Show of Complaisance at least.— Here comes my Charming Bride.—  Enter Darling and Angelica. Stand. 
saluting Angelica. I wish you, Madam, all the Joys of Love and Fortune.  Enter Clincher junior. Clin. 
Gentlemen and Ladies, I'm just upon the Spur, and have only a Minute to take my Leave.  Wild. 
Whither are you bound, Sir?  Clin. 
Bound, Sir! I'm going to the jubilee, Sir.  Darl. 
Bless me, Cousin! how came you by these clothes?  Clin. 
clothes! Ha, ha, ha, the rarest Jest! Ha, ha, ha, I shall burst, by jupiter Ammon, I shall burst.  Darl. 
What's the Matter, Cousin?  Clin. 
The matter! Ha, ha, ha: why an honest Porter, ha, ha, ha, has knocked out my Brother's Brains, ha, ha, ha.  Wild. 
A very good Jest, i'faith, ha ha, ha.  Clin. 
Ay Sir, but the best Jest of all is, he knocked out his Brains with a Hammer, and so he is as dead as a Door-nail, ha, ha, ha.  Darl. 
And do you laugh, Wretch?  Clin. 
Laugh! ha, ha, ha, Let me see e'er a younger Brother in England that won't laugh at such a Jest.  Ang. 
You appeared a very sober pious Gentleman some Hours ago.  Clin. 
Pshaw, I was a Fool then: but now, Madam● I'm a Wit: I can rake now.— As for your part, Madam, you might have had me once:— But now, Ma'am, if you should chance fall to eating Chalk, or gnawing the Sheets, 'tis none of my Fault— Now, Madam,— I have got an Estate, and I must go to the jubilee.  Enter Clincher senior in a Blanket. Clin. sen. 
Must you so, Rogue, must ye?— you will go to the jubilee, will you?  Clin. jun. 
A Ghost, a Ghost!— Send for the Dean and Chapter presently.  Clin. sen. 
A Ghost! no, no, Sirrah, I'm an Elder Brother; Rogue.  Clin. jun. 
I don't care a Farthing for that; I'm sure you're Dead in Law.  Clin. sen. 
Why so, Sirrah, why so?  Clin. jun. 
Because, Sir, I can get a Fellow to swear he knocked out your Brains.  Wild. 
An odd way of swearing a Man out of his Life.  Clin. jun. 
Smell him, Gentlemen, he has a deadly Scent about him—  Clin. sen. 
Truly the apprehensions of Death may have made me savour a little— O Lord— the Colonel! the apprehension of him may make me savour worse, I'm afraid.  Clin. jun. 
In short, Sir, were you Ghost, or Brother, or Devil, I will go to the jubilee, by jupiter Ammon.  Stand. 
Go to the jubilee! go to the Bear-Garden— the Travel of such Fools as you, doubly injure our Country, you expose our Native Follies, which ridicules us among Strangers, and return fraught only with their Vices, which you vend here for fashionable Gallantry; a Travelling Fool is as dangerous as a Homebred Villain— Get ye to your Native Plough and Cart, converse with Animals, like yourselves, Sheep and Oxen, Men are Creatures you don't understand.  Wild. 
Let 'em alone, Colonel, their Folly will be now diverting. Come, Gentlemen, we'll dispute this Point some other time, I hear some Fiddles tuning; let's hear how they can entertain us: Be pleased to sit.  Here Singing and Dancing. After which a Servant whispers Wildair. Wild. 
Madam, shall I beg you to entertain the Company in the next Room for a Moment. To Darling.  Darl. 
With all my Heart— Come, Gentlemen. Ex. Omnes but Wild.  Wild. 
A Lady to inquire for me! Who can this be? Enter Lurewell. O, Madam, this Favour is beyond my Expectation, to come uninvited to dance at my Wedding— What d'ye gaze at, Madam?  Lure. 
A Monster— if thou art married, thou'rt the most perjured Wretch that e'er avouched Deceit.  Wild. 
hay day! why, Madam, I'm sure I never swore to marry you, I made indeed a slight Promise, upon condition of your granting me a small Favour, but you would not consent, you know.  Lure. 
How he upbraids me with my Shame— can you deny your binding Vows when this appears a Witness 'gainst your falsehood Shows a Ring. Methinks the Motto of this sacred Pledge should flash Confusion in your guilty Face— read, read here the binding Words of Love and Honour, Words not unknown to your perfidious Eyes.— thou utter Strangers to your treacherous Heart.  Wild. 
The Woman's stark staring Mad, that's certain.  Lure. 
Was it maliciously designed to let me find my Misery when past redress; to let me know you, only to know you false— had not cursed Chance showed me the surprising Motto, I had been happy— The first Knowledge I had of you was fatal to me, and this second worse.  Wild. 
What the Devil's all this!— Madam, I'm not at leisure for Raillery at present, I have weighty Affairs upon my hands; the business of Pleasure, M●●a●, any other time— Going.  Lure. 
Stay, I conjure you stay.  Wild. 
Faith I can't, my Bride expects me; but hark'ee, when the Honeymoon is over, about a Month or two hence, I may do you a small Favour. Exit.  Lure. 
Grant me some wild Expressions, heavens', or I shall burst— Woman's Weakness, Man's Falsehood, my own Shame, and Love's Disdain, at once swell up my Breast— Words, Words, or I shall burst. Going.  Enter Standard. Stand. 
Stay, Madam, you need not shun my sight; for if you are perfect Woman, you have Confidence to outface a Crime, and bear the Charge of Guilt without a Blush.  Lure. 
The charge of Guilt! what? making a Fool of you? I've done't, and glory in the Act, the height of Female Justice were to make you all hang or drown, dissembling to the prejudice of Men is Virtue; and every Look, or Sigh, or Smile, or Tear that can deceive is Meritorious.  Stand. 
Very pretty Principles truly— if there be Truth in Woman, 'tis now in thee— Come, Madam, you know that you're discovered, and being sensible, you can't escape, you would now turn to Bay. That Ring, Madam, proclaims you Guilty.  Lure. 
O Monster, Villain, perfidious Villain! has he told you?  Stand. 
I'll tell it you, and loudly too.  Lure. 
O name it not— yes, speak it out, 'tis so just Punishment for putting Faith in Man, that I will bear it all; and let credulous Maids that trust their Honour to the Tongues of Men, thus hear their Shame proclaimed— Speak now, what his busy Scandal, and your improving Malice both dare utter.  Stand. 
Your Falsehood can't be reached by Malice, nor by satire; your Actions are the justest Libel on your Fame— your Words, your Looks, your Tears, I did believe in spite of common Fame. Nay, 'gainst my own Eyes, I still maintained your Truth. I imagined Wildair's boasting of your Favours to be the pure result of his own Vanity, at last he urged your taking Presents of him, as a convincing Proof of which; you Yesterday from him received that Ring— which Ring, that I might be sure he gave it, I lent him for that purpose.  Lure. 
Ha! you lent him for that purpose!  Stand. 
Yes, yes, Madam, I lent him for that purpose— no denying it— I know it well, for I have worn it long, and desire you now, Madam, to restore it to the just Owner.  Lure. 
The just Owner, think Sir, think but of what importance 'tis to own it, if you have Love and Honour in your Soul. 'Tis then most justly yours, if not, you are a Robber, and have stolen it basely.  Stand. 
Ha— your Words, like meeting Flints, have struck a Light to show me something strange— but tell me instantly, is not your real Name Manly?  Lure. 
Answer me first, did not you receive this Ring about Twelve Years ago?  Stand. 
I did.  Lure. 
And were not you about that time entertained two Nights at the House of Sir Oliver Manly in Oxfordshire.  Stand. 
I was, I was, [runs to her, and embraces her] the blessed remembrance fires my Soul with transport— I know the rest— you are the charming She, and I the happy Man.  Lure. 
How has blind Fortune stumbled on the right!— But where have you wandered since, 'twas cruel to forsake me.  Stand. 
The particulars of my Fortune were too tedious now; but to discharge myself from the stain of Dishonour, I must tell you, that immediately upon my return to the University, my Elder Brother and I quarrelled; my Father, to prevent farther Mischief, posts me away to Travel: I writ to you from London, but fear the Letter came not to your Hands.  Lure. 
I never had the least account of you, by Letter or otherwise.  Stand. 
Three Years I lived abroad, and at my Return, found you were gone out of the Kingdom, tho' none could tell me whither; missing you thus, I went to Flanders, served King till the Peace commenced; then fortunately going on Board at Amsterdam, one Ship transported us both to England. At the first sight I loved, tho' ignorant of the hidden Cause— You may remember, Madam, that talking once of Marriage, I told you I was engaged; to your dear self I meant.  Lure. 
Then Men are still most Generous and Brave— and to reward your Truth, an Estate of Three Thousand Pounds a Year waits your acceptance; and if I can satisfy you in my past Conduct, and the reasons that engaged me to deceive all Men, I shall expect the honourable performance of your Promise, and that you would stay with me in England.  Stand. 
Stay, not Fame, nor Glory, e'er shall part us more. My Honour can be no where more concerned than here.  Enter Wildair, Angelica, both Clinchers. 
Oh, Sir Harry, Fortune has acted Miracles, the Story's strange and tedious, but all amounts to this. That Woman's Mind is charming as her Person, and I am made a Convert too to Beauty.  Wild. 
I wanted only this to make my Pleasure perfect.  Enter Smuggler. Smug. 
So, Gentlemen and Ladies, is my Gracious Nephew Vizard among ye?  Wild. 
Sir, he dares not show his Face among such Honourable Company, for your Gracious Nephew is a—  Smug. 
What, Sir? Have a care what you say.  Wild. 
A Villain, Sir.  Smug. 
With all my Heart— I'll pardon you the beating me for that very Word. And pray, Sir Harry, when you see him next, tell him this News from me, that I have Disinherited him, that I will leave him as poor as a disbanded Quartermaster. And this is the positive and stiff Resolution of Threescore and Ten, an Age that sticks as obstinately to its Purpose, as to the old Fashion of its Cloak.  Wild. 
You see, Madam, [to Angel.] how industriously Fortune has punished his Offence to you.  Angel. 
I can scarcely, Sir, reckon it an Offence, considering the happy Consequences of it.  Smug. 
O, Sir Harry, he's as Hypocritical—  Lure. 
As yourself, Mr. Alderman, how fares my good old Nurse, pray, Sir?  Smug. 
O Madam, I shall be even with you before I part with your Writings and Money, that I have in my Hands.  Stand. 
A word with you, Mr. Alderman, do you know this Pocket-Book?  Smug. 
O Lord, it contains an Account of all my secret Practices in Trading [Aside.] how came you by it, Sir.  Stand. 
Sir Harry here dusted it out of your Pocket, at this Lady's House, yesterday: It contains an Account of some secret Practices in your Merchandizing; among the rest, the Counterpart of an Agreement with a Correspondent at Bourdeaux, about transporting French Wine in Spanish Casks— First return this Lady all her Writings, than I shall consider, whether I shall lay your Proceedings before the Parliament or not, whose Justice will never suffer your Smuggling to go unpunished.  Smug. 
O my poor Ship and Cargo.  Clin. sen. 
Hark'ee, Master, you had as good come along with me to the jubilee, now.  Angel. 
Come, Mr. Alderman, for once let a Woman advise; Would you be thought an Honest Man, banish Covetousness, that worst Gout of Age; Avarice is a poor pilfering quality of the Soul, and will as certainly Cheat, as a Thief would Steal—  
Would you be thought a Reformer of the Times, be less severe in your Censures, less rigid in your Precepts, and more strict in your Example.  Wild. 
Right, Madam, Virtue flows freer from Imitation, than Compulsion, of which, Colonel, your Conversion and Mine are just Examples.  
In vain are musty Morals taught in Schools,  
By rigid Teachers, and as rigid Rules,  
Where Virtue with a frowning Aspect stands,  
And frights the Pupil from its rough Commands.  
But Woman—  
Charming Woman can true Converts make,  
We Love the Precepts for the Teacher's sake.  
Virtue in them appears so bright, so gay,  
We hear with Transport, and with Pride obey.    
FINIS.