Love's a Jest. A COMEDY, As it is Acted at the New Theatre In Little-lincolns' Inn-Fields. By his MAJESTY'S Servants. Written by Mr. Motteux.  — Manent vestigia ruris. Horat. 
LONDON, Printed for Peter Buck at the Inner-Temple-Gate; John Sturton at the Post-Office; and Alexander Bosvil at the Dyal in Fleetstreet. MDCXCVI.   

To the Right Honourable CHARLES' Lord CLIFFORD OF LANESBOROUGH.  
My Lord,  
I Humbly▪ Dedicate my first Endeavours for the Stage to your Lordship, whose powerful Patronage so generously supports it. The Ancients thus devoted the first Fruits to their Tutelary Divinities. 'Tis true that what I offer comes from a foreign Plant, and is not ripened to that Delicacy that should recommend it to your exquisite Taste: Yet I hope your Lordship will be kindly prejudiced to a liking of the Fruit that was produced where you reign. While your Wit and Judgement awed me no less than your Greatness, your indulging Smiles emboldened me to the honour of this Address. 'Tis to that condescending Goodness that I presume to Devote this Essay, as an Earnest of what I will strive to do, to gain a better Title to your generous Encouragement. Nor could I easily have secured a Patron to so general a Satire, had I not happily fixed on your Lordship, whom all allow to be not only free from the Defects it exposes, but enjoy'd with all their opposite Perfections. Thus your very name will stamp a value on the Piece, and recommend it to the most Difficult, who will fear to mislike what they'll know has been graced and made authentic by your favourable Reception.  
Here, my Lord, the Custom of Dedications calls upon me, prompting me to put on the Poet, to draw the Patron; and though most Performances of this kind are as full of Flattery as the Plays are of Satire, I might attempt your Lordship's Character without being obnoxious to that Censure. But what Pen will dare engage so Lofty and Difficult a Theme? Some of the Best have modestly declined it, and been reduced to speak like the rest of the World, who strive to give some Idea of your Lordship, by that of The Fine Gentleman; a Character you maintain among the Brave, the Witty, and the Fair, by so undisputed a Title as confirms you a living honour to your great Ancestors, even to the glorious Name of boil, that has so long been an honour to this Island and its Neighbour. There are sublime Beauties that admit of no shadow, which, like the Sun, dazzle even while admired by Reflection: Things so conspicuous are not to be illustrated with Ink. Besides, I ought to consider that I speak of you to yourself; and tho' you still most unwillingly suffer yourself to be moved out of your admirable temper, 'tis known how dangerous 'tis to make you exert your Patience beyond the Bounds you prescribe it. The Bravest are the most modest; thus Praise too often offends those to whom 'tis most due, and they shun it no less than they seek to deserve it. This Consideration, my Lord, checks my presumptuous Zeal, and confines me to a silent Admiration of that Worth, which, as it endears you to all mankind, makes me ambitious of being known,  
My Lord, Your Lordship's most Humble and devoted Servant, Peter Motteux.   

PREFACE TO THE READER.  
I Am almost ashamed to mention the extraordinary Success of a Play which I myself must condemn; yet I am glad I was not mistaken in my opinion of the generous Audience, which was so indulgent, that I'm willing to think I was the more kindly used for being a Stranger. I will strive to deserve the Favour better by attempting something more correct than this Play, which, though it makes no unpleasant Figure on the Stage, and is thought sufficiently entertaining, is not altogether disposed as I could have wished. For, I would have the Plot, Conversation and Humour begin and run through the whole Play together, a thing but seldom practised of late. I could not follow that method in this, because I began it upon two Acts supposed to be written by a person now dead, and given me by Mr. Verbruggen. Though there is no manner of Business in 'em, nor the least prospect of any, I liked 'em so well as to continue 'em and fit a Plot to 'em, but as the Lovers were not brought together yet, and there are none but genteel Characters in 'em, I was obliged to make my three Acts so very long, that (when I brought 'em to be acted) without the other two, they were found to exceed by above an Act the due length of a Play. This obliged me not only to strike out entirely Mr. Verbruggen's two Acts, but to shorten mine, and with some alterations make 'em Five. I also altered some Characters that I might use those two Acts another time: (For, I think 'em too pretty to be lost.) But I have not borrowed the least word or hint out of 'em; for, though there is a satirical Wit and a mercurial Spark in them, as well as in this Play, they are somewhat different, besides those are general humours which almost every Writer takes a privilege of bringing in where he pleases. I thought myself obliged to say so much, because some People either maliciously or through a mistake have reported that the two first Acts are not mine. I am willing to own a Debt, when I borrow, contrary to the Example▪ of most Dramatic Writers. Plantus and Terence borrowed from the Greek; I would borrow, from my own Countrymen, but Moliere and most of 'em have been so gleaned, that there's scarce any thing left. I have fared better among the Italians, for I must own myself indebted to 'em for the hint of the two Scenes where Love is made in Jest, as also for some Speeches and Thoughts here and there, and were their Author known I would name him. When ever any thing in foreign Plays will seem to me fit to divert us here, I will freely make use of it, and as freely acknowledge it. Mr. Shadwell said very justly, that we do not borrow from Foreigners out of Poverty, but out of Laziness. Nor will I value the base and notoriously false Insinuations of envious impotent Poetasters, and, least of all, those of a pitiful conceited noisy scribbling wou'd-be-quack, below naming; one whose wretched Riddles, Songs, etc. were denied a place in my late Miscellanies, though, like other things of his, recommended by himself, as if written by a Lady. Such an invidious Traducer is well coupled with an idle sharping Dialoguemonger, whose Zany he is; like him, so base as to detract, in the most barbarous manner, from those who never wronged him, and so cowardly as to deny it: But they might as well charge those of ruining themselves by Marriage who have not yet committed that Folly, as of ruining a Bookseller by Books, by which he owns he was a gainer: Had I but room, I would stigmatize that Brace of Libelers; for, how despicable soever such Scoundrels may be, they are to be feared as well as hated; for, what is more to be hated than a professed Liar, or more to be feared than a public Slanderer.  
Let me leave this ungrateful Subject to acknowledge my obligations to Mr. John Eccles, who not only set my three Dialogues to most charming Notes, but humoured the Words to Admiration; we need not fear Music should decline, while we have so fine a Genius to support and raise it.   

PROLOGUE Spoken by Mr. Bowen in a Riding-Dress.  

I've been t' invite our Friends at Epsom hither,  
But fear we must expect but▪ few this weather.  
Here for a triple scarcity we pine,  
Of Wits, of Beaux, and what's yet worse, of Coyn.  
Lord! what a Crowd I met upon the Road!  
Tried Virgins, going to lay down their Load,  
Squires, Bullies, Rakes, and Fops, in jolting Coaches stowed.  
Sharpers like Captains; Lawyers Clerks, like Beaux,  
And freckled Country-Wives, in new old fashioned clothes.  
New Married Fools, with hollow▪ Eye and Cheek,  
Going to see their Uncle for a Week,  
And battered Sinners that have sprung a Leak.  
Kind Cuckolds, to see Spouse's Brat at Nurse,  
And College Quacks, to purge the Body and the Purse.  
Fat Priests, who Coach it while lean Curates drudge,  
And their Parishioners on Foot must trudge.  
Setters, and Brothers of the Oak and Dice,  
And Masks new plastered, Cullies to entice.  
Cits, who stopped Payment, to take Country-houses;  
Some, slyty riding with each others Spouses:  
For, Sparks so scarce this time of Action grow,  
Cits must e'en Cuckold one another now.  
Even Prentices, on Hackneys themselves priding,  
Now Whip and Spur to run out Cash are riding:  
Then fairly runaway for fear of Chiding.  
I fancy, none but those will stay in Town  
Who, like us here, want Money to go down.  
Let's see! shall we have Charges at this Play?  
Faith that's more than some had at their Third-day.  
We must Prorogue the House, should this not take,  
In Pity then pray spare it for our sake.  
A young Play-writer, when we act his first,  
Without Damnation here enough is Cursed.  
Oh! he has then a most Poetic Face,  
And looks▪ stay, let me see— just like an Ass;  
Nay, what you'd scarce believe, a Poet prays.  
Then the next minute, with a frightful mein▪  
Uds bloody Bones he cries, they spoil this Scene.  
If you seem dull, like him, he's mighty sick,  
Cut off a Line, you cut him to the quick.  
At the least hiss you'd swear his Soul were fled,  
But a round Clap can raise him from the Dead:  
He's Cock-a-hoop, and scarce can talk to you,  
egad he cries, I knew the Play would do.  
But if another hiss his Ears but reaches,  
Down sinks at once his heart into his Breeches.  
Yet scorns our Writer threatening Foes to fear;  
The generous Britons will a Stranger spare:  
Thus low the Frenchman bows— then learns of you to dare.  
His Satire bites but like a Lovers kiss,  
And none of you, he's sure, can take't a miss.    

THE EPILOGUE.  Mr. Underhil. 
NOw for the Epilogue.  Mr. Bowen 
There's none I think!  Mr. Underhil. 
Let down the Curtain then, and let's go drink.  Enter Mr. Mynns, one of the Gypsies. Gipsy. 

——— Hold!  
I must here tell Fortunes ere you stir;  
For I'm a Gipsy, though no Conjurer.  
First, Critics, here in pain you'll always sit,  
And swear, all'● as Damn▪ d stuff, as though by you ' iwere writ▪  
You'll strive not to be pleased, and, while we 're playing,  
Asses will chat, or hiss instead of Braying.  
Poor Masks, who lay out half Crown to get Cully,  
You'll often sit alone damned Melancholy.  
You'll Paint like Hell; but yet you'll have some grace,  
In this lewd Playhouse, you'll ne'er show your Face.  
You, Rakish Sparks, shall jog from House to House,  
Look big, shift Boxes, and not pay a sauce.  
When drunk, you'll reel out with some tawdry Miss,  
And, when at last sh' unmasks, to drink, and kiss,  
Sh●'ll cool your Courage with her damned old Phiz.  
Or, if you're kind, she'll prove a grateful Wench,  
She'll get the Guinea, but you'll get the French.  
Tho the price of some Flesh is out of Reason,  
Whores will be cheap, but ticklish ware this Season.  
Close Sparks, who in our Gallery lead lewd lives,  
You'll pick up Masks, yet dread they'll prove your Wives.  
And, you, their wives, will vow you go to pray,  
When you're at this or at another Play.  
You Vpper-gall'ry Beaux, may hope to find  
Masters wise as yourselves, some Lady's kind,  
And your Sons in the Coach, while you're behind.  
You nice Gallants, (I dare not call you Beaux,  
That's threadbare, like your Casts-off-wenche clothes)  
You'll still be Beaux, and, while you're lashed in Plays,  
Cry, Dem the Clapping Mob; smile, and take snuff with grace.  
Still to pursue the Fairest you'll delight,  
Tho you, like smoke, will but offend their sight.  
To conquer hearts you'll to the Park repair,  
And, while your Prince takes Towns, you'll take the Air.  
Bright Ladies, Fortune must your wishes Crown,  
You save, or damn us, as you smile or frown;  
Save him that spared your Blushes here to day;  
But Damn his next, if not a better Play!    

Dramatis Personae.  
Lord Lovewel, in Love with Francelia. 
Mr. Hodgson.  Sir Thomas Gaymood. 
Mr. Freeman.  Sam Gaymood his younger Brother. 
Mr. Bowen.  Railmore, my Lord's Friend. 
Mr. Betterton.  Airy, Friend to Railmore. 
Mr. Bowman.  Sir Topewel Clownish. 
Mr. Vnderhil.  Squire Illbred his Nephew. 
Mr. Trefusis.  Humphrey Doddipole his Man. 
Mr. Trout.  Humdrum a Country Parson. 
Mr. Eldred.  Major Buff. 
Mr. Harris.  Plot, Lord Lovewells Man. 
Mr. Bright.  Frankly, a young Gentleman in Chambermaids clothes, in Love with Kitty. 
Mr. Bailey.   

WOMEN.  Lady Single. 
Mrs. Barry.  Kitty her Sister. 
Miss Howard.  Francelia, Sir Thomas Gaymoods' Eldest Daughter. 
Mrs. Bowtell.  Christina her Sister. 
Mrs. Bracegirdle.  Doll Hoydon. 
Mrs. Perrin.   
Servants, Gypsies, Clowns, and Attendants.  
Scene Sir Thomas Gaymood's Seat in Hertfordshire.  
Time of Action from Noon till Night.   
Love's a jest▪ A COMEDY.  

ACT I.  
Scene a Garden.  Enter Gaymood Singing: A Servant with him: Gay. 
SLaves to London, I'll deceive you.  Sings. 
egad I've as good a voice as most Composers! Prithee sing it me once more, that I may have it right.  Servant Sings. 

A SONG.  

I.  
Slaves to London, I'll deceive you;  
For the Country now I leave you.  
Who can bear, and not bemad  
Win● so dear, and yet so bad?  
Such a noise, an Air so smoky,  
That to stun ye, This to choke ye,  
Men so selfish false and rude,  
Nymphs so young, and yet so lewd?   

II.  
If we play, we're sure of losing;  
If we love, our Doom we're choosing.  
At the Playhouse tedious sport,  
Cant in City, Cringe at Court,  
Dirt in streets, and dirty Bullies,  
Jolting Coaches, Whores and Cullies,  
Knaves and Coxcombs every where.  
Who that's wise would tarry here?   

III.  
Quiet harmless Country Pleasure▪  
Shall at home engross my Leisure.  
Farewell, London, I'll repair  
To my native Country Air:  
I leave all thy Plagues▪ behind me—  
But at home my wife will find me?  
O●yee God's! 'Tis ten times worse!  
London is a milder Curse.    Enter Railmore. Rail. 
Mad Sam Gaymood!  Gay. 
Covent-Garden Railmore come to ease his Spleen in Hertfordshire!  Ra. 
What, my thoughtless merry talking old acquaintance, come to eke out a scanty Income with elemosinary Maintenance at an Elder Brothers!  Gay. 
Even so, by Mercury; and I think 'twas high-time to go after my Credit, when my Credit was gone after my last Quarter. Faith I wisely ticked for the Coach down, resolved the Padders should get no more by Sam, than they would by a cast Poet, when he steals into the Country after his Damnation in Town.  Rail. 
Sure thou might'st have borrowed of thy acquaintance?  Gay. 
Of any body sooner I fancy. Why, thou knowest my Conversation is amongst the Wits, and they commonly have too little Money or too much Wit to lend a Brother any thing. Toast me, if I durst so much as ask my man to do it, for fear the Rogue who has formerly carried a Wit's Cloak should ask me Security for his Wages.  Rail. 
Faith I'm come to be your neighbour much for the same Cause; I mean, to recruit, and Dun Tenants, that I may be Dunned less myself; for I am not like most of our fine Sparks, that are ashamed of Dunning, but not at all of being Dunned.  Gay. 
Prithee, old Wormwood, when did you leave the Town?  Rail. 
Two days ago, and hearing this morning, my Lord Lovewel would be here to day, I came to see him; but I found him so deep engaged with your eldest Niece, that, after a moment's converse, I e'en left him.  Gay. 
To come to me: ay, he courts her with my Brother's encouragement, but she's so reserved, and he so observant that I dare▪ lay my▪ modesty to▪ thy good▪ Nature (which is no very great Wager▪) that you cared as little for their Company as they for yours.  Rail. 
Or any body for thine, when there's any other to be got.  Gay. 
That's like thee! mere Spleen and Envy, Jack, because my Tinsel outshines thy Lead. Why, there's your Idol▪ Tom Airy, who's come to pass the Summer near us, and is now yonder with my Cousins; he's a pretty smart Fellow, we own it; but, if you'll be judged by our Country Sparks, he shines no more when I am by than some slovenly Wit by your glittering Queens of the Stage.  Rail. 
Why, the little Wit he has is his own, Sam; but thine is as false as their Jewels, and as borrowed as what they speak on the Stage.  Gay. 
Like thee again! 'Tis well thou know'st I ne'er take any thing ill from my Friend— Oh here comes my Brother!  Enter Sir Thomas Gaymood. Sir Tho. 
Mr. Raillery! I longed to have you at my House: Come▪ let's go take another▪ Glass or two of Hock before Dinner!  Rail. 
No more till then, Sir Thomas.  Sir Tho. 
Why, my neighbour Sir Topewel Clownish and Squire Ilbred who'll be here after Dinner would have made you Topsy before they'd have granted you in Truce.  Gay. 
Ay, they are sunder here of knocking down a Friend, than some of our Bea●-Compainers of knocking down an Enemy.  Rail. 
A very honourable way of sighting in time of War.  Gay. 
Ay, or in time of Peace either. First, they ply you by Break of Day with a Bumper of Cherry-Brandy to heal you; next two Bumpers of Stingo too to warm you; then as much Mead or Cider▪ to cool you: Stale-Beer and Sugar for Breakfast; a Flood of bad Port for Dinner; an Ocean of worse Punch, for Supper; and a dose of raw Brandy to settle you: Much smoking, and more drinking; little Eating, and less talking; unless I'm there, e'gad, scarce any thing comes out of their mouths but Smoke.  Sir Tho. 
But pray what News at London? I should want such a friend as you to send down the News; for your News-mongers are such Liars!  Rail. 
Why, truly, in the land of the Wise, they say little; and write less: News is as partially spread as Religions; so, I'm as careless about it as the credulous Crowd, or you Country Gentlemen are inquisitous.  Sir Tho. 
Yet you may tell one how things go in the City? I hate it as a smoky Kitchen, but yet good things come out of it sometimes, though 'tis bad living in 't.  Rail. 
Why, the the City stands where it did; and that's a wonder to the Godly! But the Suburbs are like to overtake you in Hertfordshire: As for the Citizens they follow their own way, I think.  Sir Tho. 
As how, Pray?  Rail. 
Why, they cheat, to build Almshouses; break, to get Estates; rail at Courtiers, yet trust 'em, load Ships, for the Privateers; take Prentices, to learn 'em nothing: Get Money by venturing to lose that of other Folks; take Wives for other Folks, and have Children that are other Folks'. They wear Swords, but never draw 'em: The Court-end of the Town Extravaganue is getting into the City, and the City Trade● to the Court-end of the Town: They play at the Game of Stock jobbing at the old Exchange, and play away their Money, and their health near the New; Pray for Wealth, but damn themselves to get it; spend little, to leave much; turn Insurers when they've nothing to lose; and Gentlemen when there's nothing to get; lower the price of Goods to make it rise; have store of Bank-Bills, and the Banks, store of empty Chests.  Sir Tho. 
Pray tell us something of the Court? you've been a Courtier, and they say, the best way to have a good malicious account of it, is to ask one that has been turned out.  Rail. 
Why, there they are plagued with impertinent Suitors, but plague 'em worse with disappointments. Lords sell-off, and Stewards Purchase; just as Officers set up their Coaches, and you Country Gentlemen lay 'em down: Preferments are plenty, but Money scarce: Acquaintances elbow one another out without Conscience, smile without joy, embrace without Friendship, flatter without Moderation, promise without Reflection, and break their Words without Consequence. Beggars grow Courtiers, and Courtiers Beggars.  Gay. 
Why, that's no news man; begging was the Courtier's Trade from the Beginning.  Sir Tho. 
But how do thy drink at London now; for there are modes for drinking as well as for other things?  Gay. 
Oh I'll tell you that better than he; first, your Politicians drink Coffee; Wits, Beaux and Women, warm Tea, and some of 'em. cold: We Rakes, drink Red, and then Small-beer; Bawds, Snapdragons; Whores what they can get, but Mead and Rhenish and Sugar to choose; Stewards the best Champain, and their Masters the worst, Merchants smuggled Claret; Wenchers Chocolate, and sometimes Diet-drink.  Sir Tho. 
And what do Black-Coats drink?  Gay. 
Oh any thing, any thing.  Rail. 
I see our two Lovers moving this way, I would avoid 'em, and find out Airy, and the other Ladies.  Sir Tho. 
My Cousin Single, with her Sister Kitty, and my Daughter Christina are that way with him.  Gay. 
It's a wonder my Lady Single would steal any time from her Books she loves so much, to walk with any of our Sex, she loves so little.  Rail. 
Why, truly there's so little good Society, that Books are often the best Company. It seems the falseness of our Sex has frighted her into an aversion to Marriage as much as the Infidelity of Women has deterred me from that fatal Noose; but it grieves me to hear, she impairs her health and good humour by too much reading. I'll strive to persuade her at least not to hate us all, that she may converse with some, and so help me to rail at the rest of mankind.  Exeunt. Enter Lord Lovewel, and Francelia. L. Lo. 
Ah Francelia! should your modesty make you doubt your Power of reconciling Libertines to Truth, sure you've too much Charity, not to believe, but some of these may become Converts to constant Love at last.  Fran. 
At last indeed, and very few I doubt. Some who roved in their youth may do at and become constant, but 'tis as most sinners repent, when they grow old, my Lord.  L. Lo. 
Oh! believe me one of those Few that could repent betimes; I sought in others what I've found in you, and have only known their Falseness to prize your worth the more.  Fran. 
I must confess I wish I could believe you, though yet I think you mean not to deceive me: But in Love's disease▪ as in others, sometimes Libertines seem converted, and make vows, which they then intent to keep▪ but commonly forfeit as soon as they are eased.  ●. Lo. 
Even Gratitude alone can secure you a heart, but you have Charms to fix a Rover, though he should want that Virtue.  Fran. 
Alas! my Lord, Love is a sickle Passion, but Beauty is a transitory Charm, and Gratitude a weak chargeable Virtue, which Men shake off, or wilfulfully forget. No, since we must think of throwing away many Favours before we can expect to place one well, I dare not run the venture.  L. Lo. 
I swear by all—  Fran. 
Oh do not swear, my Lord; a Lover's Oaths like Confessions on the Rack, are still recanted, when the Pang is over. If you'll accept my friendship, 'tis your own▪ But name not Love, I tremble at the word.  L. Lo. 
Why, Friendship is Love refined! Ah! Madam—  Fran. 
Come, we'll walk on, my Lord: I dare not grant you more; and if you prize that Friendship, ask no more: Oh name not Love, I tremble at the word.  Exeunt. Enter Gaymood, Railmore, Airy, Lady Single, Christina, and Kitty. Gay. 
Yonder they're walking!  Rail 
And will be these four hours if you'll let 'em: He, only to say, I'll love eternally; and she, I'll never love— Both true alike.  La Sin. 
I wonder Lovers are never tir'd of each others company.  Gay. 
No wonder at all, couz; they always speak of themselves.  Chr. 
As you love to read all day, many love to hunt all day, my Lady Single; now Love they say is a kind of Chase.  La. S. 
A Wild▪ goose Chase.  Ch. 
And the Woman the Goose, when 'tis caught the Game is ended. Ay, 'tis well to keep you men at a distance; Forms in Love, like Mysteries in Religion, make Reason truckle, but advance your Zeal.  Rail. 
Asses, they say, run the faster under a Load. For my part, I am like the Fireship that scorns to burn, till sure to kindle Flames in something worth burning for.  Airy. 
So that like most of ours you're in no great danger of burning; for the Enemy is not more afraid of▪ 'em than Women are afraid of Wits, or fond of Beaux.  Ch. 
Beaux! Why, we hear nothing so much railed at now as those tame Animals! Pray, what do you properly call a Beau, Mr. Airy?  Airy. 
A Beau is—  Gay. 
Stay, let me tell that— Why, a Beau is a kind of a two-legged thing, that talks, and walks, and dances, and sings, and dresses, and looks like something between a Man and a Woman, that seldom keeps a secret better than the latter, and strives to outdo 'em in taking care of the outside, conscious there's little within. It rises to go to Bed, is two hours at the Toilette a dressing, dispatching of Duns, and spoiling gilt paper to dispatch it as Billets Doux, sometimes to its sweet self, and all day making Love to its dear Carcase and sweeter clothes.  Ch. 
Ay, but there are other sorts of Beaux?  Gay. 
Oh, yes; now Beau is every thing: there's your Town, Court, Camp, Sea, Church, and Country Beau. Sometimes Beau is Mr. Smerk with his diminutive Band and powdered Bob: sometimes Dash a Lawyer's Clerk, that pomatums his Face, washes it with Milk and Water, and is two hours turning up his hair at night, that it may sit in Curls the next morning. There are dirty Beaux, and Beau Footmen too, and old Beaux in abundance! Nay, now a Man's a Beau if he has but a clean Handkerchief.  Ch. 
Methinks 'tis time the Name were abdicated.  Rail. 
The Name may be laid down, but the thing will continue, as long as womens' Inclinations continue the same.  Ch. 
Nay, if you begin with us, I must put in for the honour of our Sex.  Rail. 
Which is just like the honour of ours, and that's so little I'm ashamed to tell you.  Ch. 
Come, those Wits ought to be fooled who make their Addresses to Fools; how fine 'tis to see one of you follow some foolish Celia like her Shadow, and go even to St. James' or St. Ann's, for a single look cross a Pew; pelt her with Billets Doux commonly stolen, Nonsensical, or Romantic, write dull Madrigals on her, and get 'em sung to duller Tunes at your weekly interviews in York-buildings; and lose his rest for her, while Miss Celia all the while either sleeps or laughs at him.  Rail. 
Ten to one but he has his turn to laugh at her: Look you, Madam, one half of the world first banters the other, than one half of the world lies with the other, and at last one half of the world laughs at the other.  La. S. 
Therefore I would not have our Sex trust the other.  Ch. 
Not so fast Cousin; I believe of you and Mr. Railmore as I do of both Sexes.  La. S. 
What's that, dear Christina?  Ch. 
Why, the one is in the wrong, and the other is not in the right.  Airy. 
Ay, Madam, were the world such as they would both be thought, a married pair would be as great a rarity as—  Rail. 
A self-denying Priest, or a couple that never repented after the Honey Moon.  Airy. 
Have a care, Sir; all people marry at one time or other.  Rail. 
Ay, Sir, and repent it at one time or other; look you, when two marry, both part with their Freedom to each other, yet neither of them gets it.  La. 
There I agree with you: For my part a Husband's Inconstancy and Ingratitude are no less my aversion than a Wife's lazy subject way of living. I could not waste half my time at my Glass, and the rest on Children, Nurses, and mean household affairs; and on a Drunkard, a Gamester, a Debauchee, a jealous Coxcomb, or an ill-natured Blockhead, who would look on me only as a means to mend his Fortune, or an Obstacle to his Pleasures.  Rail. 
Nor would I become a property for the sake of a little Dross or fancied Charms, which like a Will in the Wisp vanish when they've deluded us into a Pit whence there's no getting out; then the seeming Angel proves a real Devil, neglects herself for her Fool, and adorns herself only for others.  Ch. 
Oh, say no more; were not you Men to be caught by mere outside as well as we, we should seldom take such care about it, and were you not so blind when caught, we would not be so careless before you afterwards. But let's talk of something else. What if we should sit down yonder.  La. 
With all my heart.  Exeunt all but Airy and Kitty. Airy aside 
This is young Frankly's little Mistress: I've a mind to try how she bears my Friend's absence— Stay dear pretty creature, I must call you to an accounts  Kit. 
O Laird, Sir! for what?  Airy. 
Why? for making me love you whether I will or no; such an Air, such Eyes, such blooming Beauty, will make more Men run mad than Poetry, Plotting, or Phanaticism.  Kit. 
Nay, as I hope to be saved, Sir, I can't help it. Would you have my Eyes put out?  Airy. 
Thy Eyes! why, Child, I had rather the Sun were put out. Oh I would still gaze on those dear damned bewitching Eyes, and hear that sweet pretty prattling Tongue.  Kit. 
O Law! the Man's mad indeed!— Yet methinks I like this kind of Madness mightily.  Aside. Airy. 
Why, don't I tell you you'●l make the whole Nation a Bedlam, if 'tis not one already— Nay, you must not go yet.  Kit. 
Why, Sir, you own you are mad, and I should be mad too should I stay with you— Let me go.  Airy. 
Oh mine's a Madness that will hurt none but myself, dear Creature; come, you must stay, you can never have an opportunity to appear fully beautiful but alone with a Man that loves you.  Kit 
If you love me, why don't you let me go? Yet methinks I could stay to grow handsomer.  Aside. Airy. 
I won't let you go, because I love you. Why, you are grown infinitely more charming in an instant.  Kit. 
Ah! why must we dissemble. Methinks 'tis a pretty innocent thing to be talked so to!  Aside. 
Well▪ Sir, though they tell me I'm too young to be courted, I'm old enough to know I'm flattered.  Airy. 
Were you before your Glass you'd find it truth: but a Kiss or two will make you incomparable. Dear lovely Sweetness.  Kit. 
Oh; no, no, no, no; no kissing at all.  She sings; he presses till he kisses her. Enter Lady Single. La. 
Bless me! he's kissing the Girl, and she refuses it as faintly as if she desired he should do more! Aside Kitty, is this what I taught you? 'S death, Sir, you ought to pay dear for this presumption.  Kit. 
Why, Sister, the Gentleman is a very civil Gentleman; he only tried to make me handsomer.  La. 
I think he has done it indeed; he has put a colour in your face. O my word you shall go into a Nunnery speedily.  Airy. 
Ay, Madam, so she should; for she'll be the Torment of both Sexes if she is not locked up.  Lady. 
Why, Mr. Airy, I did not think you would have taken so much pains with a Girl, while so many Women would have thanked you for the Office?  Airy. 
Truly, Madam, Girls have often more Wit than Women, they seldom refuse what they like. And then while you have Mr. Railmore with you, who is a Master in that Profession, why should you grudge your Sister those innocent Improvements which you deny yourself.  La. 
He a Master in that Art! he's too surly to have any Scholars.  Airy. 
And your Ladyship too scornful to be taught. But I suppose 'tis because your Charms admit of no increase, Madam.  La. 
Oh, your Servant, Sir; no more of this, I pray; I would have my Sister, like me, shun such dangerous Instructions.  

Love is a Foe by Flight alone subdued;  
So Daphne gained the Laurel when pursued:  
The God was fired, and owned and urged his Flame;  
The Virgin blushed, and fled, and overcame.    

ACT II.  
SCENE A Dining Room.  Sir Thomas Gaymood, Lord Lovewel, Railmore, Airy, Young Gaymood, Francelia, Christina, and Kitty are discovered ready to rise from Table. Frankly in maids' clothes and other Servants waiting. Sir Tho. 
HEre, take away! Nay, Girls, what need you rise? I've a Dance and some Music for the Company.  A Dance. While the Dance is performing enter Sir Topewel Clownish, and Squire Illbred, who make Antic Gestures, as if they would be dancing too. They all rise. Sir Top. 
How is't, old Boy? how fares it with thy body? hale and lusty, full of juice, full of gravy, hah?  Claps Sir Tho. hard on the Shoulder, and shakes him by the hand. Sir Tho. 
Sir Topewel Clownish! Adad stand off▪ or I'll beat thee▪ a Peasecods on thy Shoulder of Mutton Fist; why did not you come to dine with me, old Suckface? I have the rarest Hock now! Many a German Prince gets drunk with worse; and as for Red stuff, here's▪ that would make a divided County vote one and all, by old England! here's to you, old Sot!  Drinks to Sir Topewel. Sir Top. 
Thank you Brother: Look you, Mum's the word. I'll tell you what 'tis in the twinkling of a Bumper. Here, John, John, do you fill me yonder Beer Glass, only for a Taste, John.  Servant fills him Wine. Sir The. 
Squire Illbred, I'm glad to see you; you're welcome!  Illb. 
The like to you, Sir Thomas! Odsme, I shall ne'er be able to break my mind to my Mistress: my Heart beats like any Mill-clapper; 'tis e'en sinking into my Breeches, e ' saith.  Aside. Sir Top. 
Cousin, don't hang on Arse: Odsooks, show your head, Man, and go buss the Women, if thou wou'dst.  Illbred going, He stops him. 
But hold, here's to thee: Do nothing rashly, as the saying is, soft and fair, as Lawyers go to heaven, drink first.  Drinks. Illb. 
Mistress Frances, your Health: Sir Thomas here's towards you. Tastes, and spurts it out. Humh! 'tis so, so; I think 'tis almost as good as our Stale Beer.  Ga. 
Sir Topewel, thou right worshipful Bumkin, thou glorious Phiz painter, thou walking Cellar of March Beer, and Terror of Sippers and Flinchers, egad I'm as glad to see thee sober in this House, as thou art to see a stranger drunk at thine.  Sir Top. 
Thank you, Squire Prate-apace.  Ga. 
Egad, old Tough-hide, I'm come to have t' other bout with you.  Sir Tho. 
Why, I've only made some, stay, let me see, ay, ay— No, ay, some ninety nine as drunk as Cuckolds (I mean as Londoners) since I knocked thee down, and thou'rt come just time enough to make up the hundred.  Ga. 
I've a couple of Seconds here, you old Toast, they'll stand by me.  Sir Top. 
Ay, and full by thee too, before I've done with 'em. I don't know 'em: I never know a man till I've drunk with him— Odsooks I had e'en forgot bussing. Cousin, follow; methinks I'm a dancing the New Vagaries.  Sings part of that Tune, as he goes to kiss the women, who seem unwilling. Fran: 
Fie, Sir Topewel, since you Men kiss one another like Children, to kiss Women grows out of fashion at London.  Sir Top. 
Then it's a sign 'tis in fashion in the Country. Odsooks, I had rather kiss a Hog's Snout than slabber a bristly fellow who makes a Hen's Breech at you with his Chaps. I'll warrant, that's outlandish.  Rail. 
The Booby kisses like a Nurse; here's a Smack as loud as that of a Carriers Whip  Aside. Ch. 
A Dewse take you and your Dutch Buss! Were you to kiss thus at London, 'twould cost some Women half their outward face.  Kit. 
Foh! you stink of Wine.  To Sir Topewel after he has forced a Kiss from her. Sir Top. 
Odsooks, you young Sucker, you proud Tit-bit of Flesh for your Children, does Wine stink? give me my Buss again. by'r, by'r, by'r.  She runs from him, and he strives to catch her. Kit. 
I'll owe it you, I'll owe it you.  Illb. 
I've a coming stomach to Kisses, e 'faith! By y'r leave, Miss.  Kit. 
By yours, Master!  He offers to kiss her; she hits him a slap o' the face. Illb. 
Thank you; but what's that for, tho?  Kit. 
Why, that's for you: My Lips are bespoke, but my hand's at your service; d'you want another?  Illb. 
No, you young Light-skirts, I have too much by one— God, munch Oatmeal! What's the Girl afraid of? a Horse Buss? Why, the Parson's Daughters, nay the Justice's Wife, let me smack 'em again and again, and welcome; and there's our Susan saith, I've a breath like a Cow's 'tis so sweet— Well, if the Mistress won't the Maid shall▪ e'faith.  Goes to kiss Frankly. Airy. 
He's in the right on't; when we can't get into the Town we must e'en take up in the Suburbs.  Sir The. 
Now you shall hear a Song set by my Daughter's Music-master.  

Scotch SONG.  

FRom Aberdeen to Edenbrough  
I trudged it with my Bearn,  
And thence to London Town did go,  
News of my Love to learn.   

II.  
And now the bonny Lad is come  
To Royal Willy here,  
So I'll e'en gang contented home▪  
Sin ay have got my dear, etc.    Ch. 
Pray, how does your Lordship like the composing?  L. Lov. 
I like it extremely, Madam.  Illb. 
Oh! is that a Lord!  Staring on Ld. Lovewel. Sir Top. 
Like it! Why, there's not a word of drinking in't. Odsooks one merry Drinking Catch is worth a hundred on't; as, Oh the little House that lies under the Hill! Thrilo, lilo, lilo, lilo, liloh!  Sings. Sir Tho. 
Well, here's something will fit you to a Hair.  Enter Mr. Redding in a Smith's Habit, a Bottle in his hand. He sings; seemingly drunk. 

SONG.  Man. 
Should I not lead a happy Life▪  
Were but my Bottle like my Wife!  
My Bottle empties when I swill,  
But my Wife swells up when we bill.  
Would (when I drink) my Bottle fill,  
And (when I kiss) my Wife not swell,  
All would be well:  
I would so bill,  
So fill, so swill,  
That daily gaily I would spend my Life,  
Sucking, filling,  
Hugging, billing,  
My merry Bottle and my Wife.  Drinks; then throws away his Bottle, and takes up a Quart Pot. Enter Mr. Lee dressed as the Smith's Wife and bigbellied.  

DIALOGUE.  Wom. 
STill at your Pot,  
You drunken Sot?  
You till I come  
Will ne'er go home;  
And when you're there,  
You curse and swear;  
Then prove a Bed  
A lump of Lead.  Man. 
D' you think, you Scold,  
I'll be controlled?  
No more be said:  
Or at your Head,  
As I'm a Sot,  
sauce flies the Pot!  
But first, I think,  
I'll save the Drink.  Drinks. Wom. 
Hold, leave a sup,  
Don't drink all up.  Man. 
Here, taste and know  
Why I'll not go.  He gives her the Drink, she drinks. Wom. 
How sweet! oh how it cheers my heart!  
O dear! methinks I suck my Mother.  
Here's t'you, my Love! have t' other Quart,  
And then—  Man. 
— What then?  Wom. 
— And then another.  Both. 
Come, now we're Friends, and all is right.  Man. 
Drink, drink all day:  Wom. 
——— But love at night.  Both. 
Drink, drink all day, but love at night.  Both going off lovingly.  Sir Top. 
Now this is something like a Tanzie: here Friends, there's a couple of Shillings for you to drink.  Throws down 2 shillings. Ch. Fie. 
Sir Topewel, you affront 'em, and us too; they never sing under a couple of Guineas.  Sir Top. 
Well then, if they'll come to Clownish-hall they shall be drunk for a month together— Here, John, do thou take up the Shillings, and then fill me t' other Brimmer, you old Cuckold!  Airy. 
Why, this is treating indeed; let the Ladies but be kind, and there will be Cheer Entiere.  Ga. 
Pshau, my little Hotspur, the whole kind will be kind, if we are not too kind. They are like Fruits, Man; if they're dear e'en thank your impatience, you might have enough else for little or nothing in due season; there's plenty and they won't keep; when the Pears are ripe, do He shakes one of the Women but shake the Trees, and down they tumble— What sayst thou of this old grinding Mill, hah!  Rail. 
Why, I only say, that's old; thou stealest Trash out of Books, as impudently as Boys do out of Orchards; nay, the worst on't is, that like other Thiefs thou spoil'st what thou stealest, lest thy Roguery be found out.  Ga. 
Pshau, pshau, a mere Poetic Licence, by Mercury. The God of Wit is the God of Thiefs too. Why, Man, every body steals: the Country Levite steals Sermons, nay the very Invectives he uses against stealing: the younger Brother with his pious Dad's abetting steals a Fortune, the Hypocrite steals a good Name, the common Soldier steals Hens and Geese, the Commander Towns and Countries, and both, like the cozening Citt, call that Getting. The busy ignorant steals a Preferment, and the sly Cuckold-maker steals your Wife.  Rail. 
And thou thy Speeches.  Ga. 
I deny the major: I pay for the Books out of which I take 'em, ha, ha, ha!  L. Lov. 
We'll take a Walk in your Gardens, Sir Thomas.  Ga. 
What are they all a going? A Pox of these peticoated Implements; they spoil Company worse than Business, Politics, or Religion. Well, I'll be with you; but first let's smoke a Pipe.  Exeunt Ld. Lov. Francelia, Christ. Kitty, Rail, and Airy. Manent Sir Tho. Sir Top. Illbred, Gaymood, Frankly, and another Servant. Sir Tho. 
These seem clever fellows, Squire? hark you, can they drink?  Ga. 
Just as you talk, Knight.  Sir Top. 
How's that?  Ga. 
Why, so, so; you only talk to promote drinking, and they only drink to promote talking— Where are they now? They could not say that's stolen! Aside, Now this is lost here; mere Pearl before Swine, by Mercury.  Sir Top. 
What sayst thou, hah?  Claps him o'the back. Ga. 
Nothing, nothing, I was only thinking o' some of you Country Squires.  Sir Top. 
Odsooks one Country Fellow of Threescore is worth threescore of your spindle-shankt washy finical Town-whipsters, with scarce a Penny in their Pockets, or any Pith in their Backs, but the Devil and all of Maggots in their Noddles, and of Convent-garden Gout in their Bones.  Ga. 
Can they—  Sir Tho. 
Brother, not afford against the Country. You Town Changelings arrive froward Children; you're always biting your Nurse: Can you live without the Country?  Sir Top. 
Well said, e 'faith. Now look you, Neighbour, here's no body too much: You see my Cousin Illbred▪ Is he not a elever sort of a body, for an elder Brother? Here's a Man now! I'll warrant him as sound Wind and Limb as any he of his inches: Odsheart, he'll wear well and live long!  Claps Illbred on the back Ga. 
Not live, but last long▪ e 'gad, one would swear he were commending his Horse to pack it off to some Fool at a Fair.  Aside. Sir Top. 
He hunts, hawks, or whistels, about his ground three hours in a morning, feeds like a Plough-jobber, and drinks like a Tinker: As silly as he stands he made 14 Lawyers drunk last Assizes.  Ga. 
You've a rare Pupil of him.  Sir Top. 
In short you have him as true bred a Countryman as my Worship, and wanting nothing but a Wife, by the Pleasure of Drinking: nor shall he want that long, if my Neighbour here is willing to be rid of his eldest Daughter; for that's what we come about.  Sir Tho. 
My Daughter Francelia! There are more words than one to a Bargain, Sir Topewel, my Friend.  Sir Top. 
An you be not willing to get rid of that Cattle, you're the only Man of your mind in seven Counties. Why, they are mere Rubbish, Father Dry-boots, we must pay those that take 'em away.  Sir Tho. 
Ay, marry, but ev'ry Man shan't be the Scavenger. What, I must bestow my Jewel upon a Fool, an Idiot, a Booby, a senseless Clown?  Illb. 
Odsbobs, I shall have her, I'll lay five pounds to a Nut Cracker he means me, for every body calls me so.  Aside. 
Thank you, Father-in-law that's to be.  Sir Tho. 
Adad, Sir, you had best keep your Thanks till you have her.  Sir Top. 
Hark you, Neighbour, Mum's the word. I guess where the shoe wrings; you grudge to untie your Purse-strings to him, you old Micher; now we want none of your Muck.  Sir Tho. 
Humh! I may save a Portion! Aside Adad that's more than I thought.  Sir Top. 
Did I not tell you, you old Hunks, that my Cousin wants nothing but a Wife? See how he 'sniggers at it! how arch the young Whoreson looks! Whee, Man! he's not the Fool you may take him for.  Illb. 
No more I an't: I'm none of your raking, scraping, sneaking Fools, although I mayn't say so much where I an't acquainted.  Sir Top. 
Can he be a Fool with three thousand a year, besides eighteen hundred more which shall be his— When they can no longer be mine.  Ga. 
He's a Wit, he's a Wit; I'll bring 18 Dedicating Poets will draw their Pens to vouch it to the last drop of their Ink, by Mercury: But if that won't do, how d' you think I'll make him a Wit?  Sir Top. 
What you'll beggar him, or you'll—  Ga. 
No, stay, I'll tell you myself. First, he shall read half a score Plays, that is, if he can read: then I'll teach him to make Rebus', Quibbles, Semiquibbles, Quarter-quibbles, Conundrums, Carwitchets, Longinquopetits, Clinches, Puns—  Sir Top. 
Heigh day! what's all this?  Ga. 
Do you know what's Cross Purposes, or Questions and Commands.  Sir Top. 
Yes.  Ga. 
Why Puns, Carwitchets, & coetera, are not at all like that— But they are all the wit in fashion, and as easily learned as Fornication; your very Country Parsons are as capable of it as any Men.  Illb. 
I'm sure that must needs be easy then: Susan, Sister's Chambermaid, might teach one that in a quarter of an hour.  Ga. 
Then he shall go to every new Play▪ and when he hears a good sharp Kiss, he shall lug out of his Pocket the Terror of Scribblers, that is, a Musical Instrument called a Catcall.  Pulls out a Catcall. Sir Top. 
A Catcall!  Ga. 
Ay, a Catcall egad; with a touch of this▪ I'll blow you a poor Devil off the Stage in a trice, after he has been a whole year drudging on a Farce.  He makes a Noise with the Catcall. Illb. 
Odds my heart, I fancy I could do this myself.  Takes the Catcall and blows. Ga. 
Look you, he's half a Critic already.  Sir Top. 
Ay, ay, all in good time: but to the point. What say you Sir Thomas?  Sir Tho. 
I must confess you bid fair, but I have given my Lord Lovewell leave to court her; and then, who knows whether she may fancy the Squire?  Sir Top. 
I'm sure she'll soon like him, he's so good natured a Lad▪ he has a Lord's Estate, and prithee what's a Title? why, you can no more know some young Lords now from citizens' Heirs, than most of us from Graziers; then they're somewhat apt to outrun the Constable they say.  Sir Tho. 
But my Lord's none of those, and loves her well.  Sir Top. 
Ay, now perhaps: but hark you me, when did you hear of a Lord that loved his Wife six weeks together? Here, John; where's John? Come Sweetheart To Frankly fill me a Streaker of Wine.  Sir Tho. 
Well, you have my leave, Mr. Illbred▪ and I'll do what I can to prevail with my Daughter. I fancy you had best send her a Letter, and come an hour or two after.  Sir Top. 
So he shall; we're a going to Mother Hemp's, he shall write it there, and send it anon—. Here, Huzzy, fill as you love me; fill as 'twere for thyself, and no body by: Odsooks, fill it full! What's the Brim made for else?  Nods to Sir Thomas, and drinks. 
Well, Sir Thomas, God be with you.  Shakes him hard, and claps him on the back. Illb▪ 
God by t'you, Sir Thomas! My Love to your Daughter! I long mightily to he in with her. Thank you for your good Company.  Sir Tho 
I'll see you out, and then I'll go look for her?  Exeunt Sir Tho. Sir Top. Squire Illbred, and Frankly. Ga. 
And I for Railmore, to tell him what hopeful Bargain's a▪ driving to put my Lord's N●●● out of joy▪ nt▪ then heigh for a juicy Country Lass! I'm for easy work ●ga●; and I fancy she that waited now might do; she's somewhat raw thats the truth on't: but we're in the Country, where a kind Wench is as scarce as a sound one in Covent-garden: she may mend there like others formerly of no higher rank.  
Some, not far off, as ill became their clothes,  
Who now set up for Settlement and Beaux.  Exit.  

ACT III.  
SCENE A Room.  Enter Gaymood on one side, Frankly on the other. Ga. 
OH! here's the Game! what a buxom Bona Roba she'll make! Well, I may safely venture I hope; yet I have heard of a Town Spark who made a Token of his Kindness go round a whole Country Parish. My young Master peppered the Dairy-maid, the Dairy-maid peppered the Groom, the Groom peppered the Chambermaid, the Chambermaid peppered his Worship, his Worship peppered my Lady, my Lady peppered the Parson, and the Parson's Wife peppered my young Master again! And what a circulation of blood was there! aside. To Frankly. Hark you, Child, come hither; come, doubt be bashful, that grows out of fashion now as much as honesty. She blushes; that's a wonder! I thought nothing but Spanish Wool could make Women red now a days! what's thy Name, my Dear?  Frank. 
Frances Pinngown, Sir.  Ga. 
How long hast thou lived here, Child?  Frank. 
But two days, Sir: I came upon liking, and am to go to morrow. I found they were turning me away, so I was resolved I would not stay.  Ga. 
Gad those that don't like thee must be more difficult than I  Frank. 
There's a deal of Linen to be washed, and I an't si● for that work.  Ga. 
Hark you, come and live with me, do; I've work thou'rt sit for; then there will be but little washing, for I wear a Shirt a fortnight.  Frank. 
Maid's must not live with single Gentlemen, Sir.  Ga. 
Pshau, pshau, that's a mistake, Child. Come, if thou canst but make a Bed I'll teach thee to unmake it: A days thou shalt be my Maid, but my Mistress a nights, according to the laudable Custom of City Widowers and Bachelors.  Frank. 
Oh! sye, Sir!  Ga. 
Come and live with me, I say, thou'lt live like a little Queen.  Frank. 
No indeed, Sir, I dare not; I have learned to know better things: then who'd be so foolish d'you think, as to harken to one whom his elder Brother talks of marrying out of hand?  Ga. 
Why, Child, he may talk on't, but I mind him as little as most Daughters do their Mothers: but suppose I should marry 'twill be the better for thee; for I'll no sooner have fingered my Wise's Portion, but I furnish thee stately Lodgings in some creditable House, at least a Churchwarden's or a Head Constable's; keep thee a Footman and a gilt Chariot, and make thee outshine a Lord's public Mistress, or a Bankers private Friend.  Frank. 
Let me go Sir— You must not— let me alone▪ I can't do as you'd have me— Pish! You shall never make a Harlot of me. Oh fie, Sir! some body sees you.  Ga. 
What need you care? you are not to stay.  Frank. 
Not with you if I would prosper.  Runs off. Ga. 
Fool! what way have Chambermaids to prosper but that?  Exit after her. Enter Sir Thomas Gaymood and Francelia▪ Sir Tho. 
Come▪ Girls, now I have thee aside, let me ask thee a question; what think'st thou of a Husband, hah?  Fran. 
As most Wome do, Sir.  Fran 
Which is as good as to say thou always think'st of it, hah?  Fran. 
I mean, Sir, I think 'tis dangerous venturing on one  Sir Tho. 
Ay, and more dangerous being without one. Why▪ 'tis as bad as having arable Land lie fallow— In short I have agreed to marry thee speedily.  Fran. 
Sir, there needs no haste; I'm not weary of my condition.  Sir Tho. 
But thy Father's weary of seeing thee so long courted tho; besides I fancy a Husband is a kind of a pretty play thing for a Child of thy size, heh!  Fran. 
My Lord has spoke to him I find.  Aside. 
You are resolved, Sir, to put me to the Blush.  Sir Tho. 
So, she smiles, I think. Adad, these women can as little hide their Joy before Marriage, as we our Sorrow afterwards— Well, silence gives consent. It must and shall be so.  Fran. 
I must like what you like, Sir; and would even sacrifice my inclinations to your pleasure.  Sir Tho. 
Thou'rt my good Girl! Well, I have settled matters to my mind, and thou shalt be a Bride to morrow.  Fran. 
'Tis very sudden, Sir, but you're absolute.  Sir Tho. 
Look you, you'll have a Letter from him just now; and he'll come and pay you a Visit an hour after. 'Tis Squire Illbred: Oh he'll make a rare Husband!  Fran. 
Illbred! my mistake has undone me.  Aside. Sir Th. 
Prithee what makes thee look so oddly of a sudden?  Fran. 
I am thinking, Sir, that Marriage brings many cares.  Sir Tho. 
Prithee, what cares can Wives have, while their Husbands live, unless it be how to cuckold them? Come leave this dissembling.  Fran. 
But indeed, Sir, I do not dissemble.  Sir Tho. 
Humh! Now I understand you: You don't mislike Marriage, Mistress, but the Man you should marry. He mimics her. I must like what you like, Sir; and would even sacrifice my inclinations to your pleasure! hah! is't come to that?  Fran. 
I must confess, I fear I should live unhappy with such a Man: I'm afraid he is a Fool.  Sir Tho. 
What then? will he make ever the worse Husband?  Fran. 
A mere Clown!  Sir Tho. 
Prithee, who but Clowns love their Wives now a days?— Look you, don't provoke me: you know my humour that's enough: as for my Lord, as he came, so let him go; he wants Money, now the Squire wants none. Come along, come along.  Enter Humphrey Doddipole. Hum. 
What pity 'tis I wasn't bred a scholar! I fancies I'd ha' made as good a Man as our Parson▪ I ha'n't forgot one word of my Message: I'll say't now as if Meester's Sweetheart was by▪ He moves his Hat, and bows awkardly. Forsooth▪ Squire Illbred remembers his kind Love to you, and has sent you a Letter.  He starts, seeing Dol. Hoydon. Enter Doll. Hoydon. Hum. 
Odsnigs▪ here's my Jade Doll that I loved so once, till she took out John the Thresher to dance! I'd as leive ha' met a mad Cow in a narrow Lane.  Dol. 
What d' you want hah?  Hum. 
I don't want you, goody Trollop, I want to come at your betters.  Dol 
Marry, come up, Looby! I'll know why you come creeping like a Dog under a door for all your haste? You come at my betters? I think you're afore your betters now.  Hum. 
Come, help me to thy Dame's Speech an' thee w●●d▪ st; then go thy ways to John the Thresher, like a sorry hollow hearted dirty Slut as thee art.  Dol. 
I care ned an he were hanged, and you too.  Enter Christina. Ch. 
What does this fellow want?  Hum. 
An't please you, forsooth; an't please you, my Meester— Aside. Oh the sight of this Jade has daunted me so, I don't know what I say or do; I've quite and clean forgot my Errand— I have a Letter forsooth Searches for it Odsnigs, either I forgot myself, or Meester forgot his self— I'm come away without it— No, stay, I took it of the Parson. I'll look again. Marry▪ I lost it— No, marry, but I han't— Ay, marry, I have— No marry but I han't— Here 'tis; Gives it her. Meester gave me strict charge to give it Sir Thomas' handsomest Daughter, forsooth.  Ch. aside. 
We seldom think others handsomer than ourselves— Let see— 'Tis for my Sister; but dear Curiosity, Woman's favourite Vice, cannot be withstood— I'll open it— heigh day! what stuffs this? o'th' my word the Parson's unlawful Issue though the Booby Squire fathers it.  Hum. 
An you'll send an answer by me, forsooth▪ I'll deliver it safe to Meester (I can deliver a Message passing well, you see) Else he bade me tell you, he'll come for▪ t' anon, he's somewhat busy at present.  Ch. 
Where is he?  Hum. 
Why, if you must know, forsooth, I left him hard at it, smoking his Pipe yonder at Mother Humps.  Ch. 
Nay▪ then he's busy indeed; stay, I'll bring you an answer presently.  Exit Christina. Hum. 
Well, and what business had you to stand and state in a body's face, and put a body out? I ne'er was half so shamed in my born days, not I  Dol. 
What did you cast a Sheep's Eye at me for?  Hum. 
Because I was a Fool I think. O' my Conscience you're nothing in the varsal world but mischief: But if e'er I set Eyes on thee again while I have breath to draw, may the Crows come and peck 'em out!  Doll. 
And so say I: Goodb'y t'ye.  Going, casts a look at him. Hum. 
What dost look at me so for?  Doll. 
What d'you look on me for?  Weeps, and wipes her Eyes with her Apron. Hum. 
What dost thou cry for? Oh▪ 'tis a peerless Jade!  Dol. 
Oh that I should live to be used thus!  Hum. 
Why did you serve me so then with that sneaking Whelp John the Thresher, who's no more to compare d' you see (thof I say't, that should not say't) than a Hog's to a Bullock▪— You know I would ha' broken Silver with you once, but that the plaguy Collectors had not left one broad Shilling in the County.  Dol. 
I only took him out to try thee, Humphrey.  Hum. 
I'll be hanged then, and my Horse too.  Dol. 
Nay, prithee don't pout, Humphrey; don't spoil that sweet face of thine: if I e'er do so again, may I' be churning and churning all days o' my Life, and Butter ne'er come.  Hum. 
Ay, marry, hang you; I'll trust you no further than I can hurl you.  Dol. 
Don't be dumpish, Humphrey, I'll dance with you now; we've Minstrels hard by.  Hum. 
Not I, e'en dance with somebody else, and thou wouldst.  Dol. 
Well then I will, Humphrey; any thing to please poor Humphrey Doddipole.  Exit. and Reenters with Fiddlers, Country Lads and Lasses. Hum. 
Oh that John the Thresher sticks plaguily in my Gizzard still.  A Country Dance. Hum. 
Oh brave Doll. Hoydon! That wag of the Buttock has won my heart.  Runs and kisses her. Exeunt Dancers and Music. Re-enter Christina. Dol. 
Be quiet! Aloud, seeing Christina— Here's Mistress Aside to him. Can't you let a body alone?  Aloud, and then Exit. Chr. 
I find every body has his own little private business in this world! Aside. Here, fellow, give thy Master this.  Gives him a Letter. Hum. 
I will, forsooth: This is a lucky day. Odds me, I warrant this good News will renew Father's Lease for nothing.  Exit Hum. Enter Railmore. Ch. 
Mr. Railmore, just now this thing▪ in the shape of a Letter, was sent by my Lord's new Rival, the Squire you saw here. I was taken for my Sister, and as the hates him, and I have a respect for your Friend, I sent a short drolling answer, in her Name, as kind as a Billet Doux writ by a Town Beau to himself.  Rail. 
I hope he'll make it as public, be as little believed and worse used: Look you, Madam, you do well; 'tis your interest to disappoint the Squire; for, after all, were my Lord dismissed, I guess you must stay for a Husband as long as she'll be teas'd with such Fools. Be generous then as all the world is, and be thanked for obliging yourself; but you must do more.  Chr. 
What's to be done?  Rail. 
Write two or three Lines as from your Sister to my Lord, as it were to assure him, that though she weds the Squire she'll favour his Lordship ne'er the less. I'll take care the Uncle and the Nephew shall see it instantly. I've already set some other Engines at work?  Ch. 
But what if my Sister hears of this? I'm sure she'll not only disown it utterly; but will hardly forgive my Lord.  Ra. 
He must know nothing of it himself, till it has taken▪ Effect▪ than we'll easily reconcile 'em, if she hears on't, and, like other Women, seems angry for being pleased.  

None can a Good, th● got by Tricks, disdain,  
When others reap the Blame, and she the Gain.   Exeunt. Enter Kitty and Frankly. Frank. 
I ha'n't had an Opporunity to ask you, Why you're so Melancholy, Madam? I love you better than any Body, so nothing could please me more than to see you cheerful.  Kitt. 
Thank you, good Fanny, but you can't make me so.  Frank. 
You may be mistaken, Madam; come, do but discover the Cause of your Sadness to me, and if I don't serve you effectually, may I never deserve a Lady's good Opinion!  Ki. 
What would you have me say? I protest I don't know why I'm so▪  Frank. 
Oh! that's a Jest; but we Maids are so bashful! Come, I fancy, your Secret will out the more kindly, if I ask you a few Questions. Are you not in Love? Nay, I myself would be one of the first to laugh at you▪ if you did not know what 'tis to love.  Ki. 
Well▪ don't laugh at me, good Fanny, I know what 'tis well enough, but my Sister must not know of it for the World.  Frank. 
Good! I like you now▪ Plain dealing becomes us Maids, when we're among ourselves no less than Dissimulation before Men: Come then, be free, and believe I'll keep your Secret as well as your Lover himself.  Ki. 
But why don't you ask me Questions then, Fenny, that I may answer you?  Frank. 
That's well said! you love some young Gentleman, do you not?  Ki. 
When I was at London, there used to come with my Cousin Will Gaymood a pretty fine dressed▪ Gentleman, who came from the College; his Name's Mr. Frankly.  Frank. 
And do you love him very well?  Ki. 
I loved him mightily then▪ but I did not tell him so; for, they say, We must not tell Men our Mind till they find it out; yet I fancy he guessed it; for, he promised me he would come, or let me hear from him: But he has not done it. Now as my Sister threatens me with a Nunnery—  Frank. 
Pray go on, I'm impatient, to know the rest.  Ki. 
I am ashamed; I had rather you would ask▪ me Questions▪ Fanny.  Frank. 
I fear you've got a new Lover in his Absence.  Ki. 
I vow, I could not help it, Fanny▪ But▪ I'm mightily concerned, and done't know what to do; for he is to come to me by and by, and I am afraid my Sister should see him with me. Now, if thou wouldst help me a little, good Fanny.  Frank. 
I had rather serve t'other; but what's this new one's Name?  Ki. 
Major Buff; I like him but so so; but he teezed me, and would not let me alone till I had promised to meet him; and any thing is better than a▪ Nunnery, you know. Yet I would not have talked to him had Mr. Frankly come to me.  Frank. 
The Absent are always in the Wrong, I find.  Ki. 
But, Fanny, there's Doctor Kill-●lown too▪ whom I promised to meet▪ and I'm mightily afraid they'll come at the same Time.  Frank. 
Another Appointment! a forward Child, truly! But why did▪ you appoint him at the same Time?  Ki. 
What shall I say to you? I did not think on't: I'm so concerned for Mr. Frankly's not coming, and so afraid of the Nunnery, that I don't know what I do▪ But as I grow older I hope I shall manage things better▪ and have more Wit▪  Frank. 
More Wit▪ why you're a Prodigy already! But, what if Mr. Frankly should come at last? For, I am sure he'll come, since he promised▪ I know him.  Ki. 
Oh! let me kiss thee again and again for that dear, dear Fanny kisses Frankly▪ Well is he not a pretty sweet Man? Methinks he favours thee mightily.  Frank. 
He's well enough▪ I think▪ But▪ would you marry him if he could get you out in Page's clothes, and had a Parson ready?  Ki. 
Heh! truly, I know nothing to the contrary, Fanny. Yet there's another pretty fine Gentleman—  Frank. 
Another yet!  Ki. 
That's all indeed▪ Fanny▪ One Mr. Airy: I'm sure you would like him, Fanny: But yet dear Mr. Frankly was my first Love, and if I were but as sure he would come—  Enter Airy and Gaymood. Ai. 
As you are sure of a Kiss.  Kitty and Franly shriek and exeunt. Ga. 
You have lost her, and I my little Chamber-Utensil: Well▪ no matter for that▪ I've had her already▪ B●●, though she seems so skittish now▪ I gad, true Modesty is as great a Stranger to these Chambermaids▪ as to a Midwife▪ a Hedge-Poet, or a Side-Box Mask, by Mercury.  Ai. 
Well, let's go find out Railmore: You say you'll serve my Lord, Sam, and help us to defeat the Squire his new Rival.  Ga. 
Fear not, I'll do't, though 'twere but to fret my covetous old Brother, be revenged of the Uncle, and laugh at the Nephew: I long to do some good generous Action worthy being Chronicled. This shall be the first, Egad; and if the Fool should marry my Niece, to make it more meritorious, I'd drink him dead in Three Months. What a Pox▪ do you think I've no Conscience? I shall save nothing by old Thomas' saving a Portion, and Nephew for Nephew, I'd rather have a witty Lord than a foolish Squire, by Mercury.  Ai. 
A Pox of all such Men of Clay and no Sense! They are the Terror of those who want only to be married to raise Portions and pay Debts. Women should be oblig'd not to use such rich Fools better than if they had Merit and nothing else: But then  

How many Heirs would sue, while none would grant!  
How many Nymphs would their best Bubbles want!   Exeunt. 
The End of the Third ACT.   

ACT IU.  
SCENE A Walk.  Enter Gaymood, with Airy; and Christina, meeting. Ga. 
HOw now, Mad Cap, whither so fast?  Ch. 
Not to look for you, my Wise Uncle, you may be sure. I'm looking for my Lady Single: Do you know which way she went?  Ga. 
Look you, you know the Passage that leads to the Stairs that are on the Right-Hand, near the Back Yard, as you go up to the Gallery, don't you?  Ch. 
Ay, ay, What then?  Ga. 
Why, she did not go that way— that's all laughs you did not look for that neither, Ha▪ ha, ha!  Ch. 
Dear Uncle, will you never leave this Folly?  Ga. 
Ay, ay, Child, when it leaves me, and thou thyself art wiser: Come, like to like; stay with us, and be Company; hang thinking! Too much Reflection is the Folly of the Learned.  Ch. 
Ay, and too little Reflection the Folly of the Ignorant.  Ga. 
Ignorant! Why, I don't trouble myself with what's past or what's to come. I enjoy the present▪ and let the World rub, and who wiser than Sam?  Ch. 
You do well to praise yourself, Sir.  Ga. 
Ay, seeing no Body will do it for me, Madam▪ Pshau, 'tis the Fashion now: Show me the Man that never talked ill of others, nor well of himself, and I'll be bound to show thee a Plain-dealing Courtier, a Peacemaking Lawyer, a silent Woman▪ an honest Tailor▪ a witty Alderman, a—  Ai. 
A what?  Ga. 
Nay▪ Faith, I can't tell what: Help me out if you can▪  Ai. 
Why, you are never out nor in▪ Man: Neither will you give me leave to put in a Word, or be happy in exchanging a Speech or two with this Lady.  Ga. 
Nay, now I think on't, thou hast not had thy share of Talk, this one Time: Well, make thyself amends, if thou canst: Come, let me see you box about a little amorous Nonsense; for 'tis what you would be at▪  Ai. 
Can a Man talk of any thing but Love▪ when there's so strong an Incentive to it before him?  Ch. 
Why, Uncle, would you have me be a Courting-Stock?  Ai. 
You need not, Madam, if you're willing to be in earnest.  Ch. 
That would not be fair, Mr. Airy, for I fancy Love itself is a Jest.  Ai. 
Then give me Leave to pass that Jest upon you; there can be no harm in a little Jesting.  Ch. 
I'm not much inclined to find Fault with a Jest, provided it be not carried too far.  Ai. 
What think you of Platonic Love?  Ch. 
That's a Jest indeed, but 'tis a dull one.  Ai. 
Shall I court you like an eldest Son, sold by his Father to redeem a Mortgage?  Ch. 
That Courtship is indeed much in fashion, but there's no Jest in it.  Ai. 
Shall I court you then like some first-rate Spark, between a Rake and a Beau; a pleasant modern Medley, like Punch; for there's the strong and the insipid, with the sweet and the sharp?  Ch. 
That will go down better than the rest, but 'tis a dangerous Mixture, and not fit for common use: However, I'll venture on a Taste to try your Skill.  Ga. 
By the Blessing of Freedom, I'll stay on the Stage, and will see that Scene for nothing.  Ai. 
I bar that, Sir, No Person to stand on the Stage.  Ga. 
The Play-Bill says so, but we'll suppose 'tis the Poet's Day; besides▪ we Beaux will show ourselves to the Audience, in spite of the Bill and the Audience.  Ai. 
Ay, though some of you are as dirty▪ Beaux as yourself.  Ga. 
Egad, I'll clap that Jest, he claps We Wits and Beaux love to be satirized in a Prologue; but if you don't begin, now 'tis over, I'll kiss.  Ai. 
Well, Madam, suppose me one of those Sparks just coming to see you, and yourself one of those airy Women of Honour they court en passant.  Gaymood and Christina sit, Airy comes forwards, seemingly fuddled; humming a Song and combing his Wig; then stops and speaks as to a Servant. Ai. 
Solyman, speaks affectedly and in another Tone Tell the Coachman I won't discharge him these eight Hours, let the Dog drive away and lose his Fare, if he will— Demme, Madam, you're a very happy Person; you don't know, perhaps, that I've been peeping into every Coach in the Park for you, ferreting the Boxes at both Houses, refused to go to Le Begue's with Three or Four Rakes of Honour, balked poor my Lady Love-all, who stayed for me to hand her out of the King's Box, and Two Masks, who waited for me by the Chocolate-house; I'm sure they're Quality; and at last I've been forced to drive hither. Confound me, if I did not break the Coachman's Head for his Fare, because the Rascal did not keep a Lover's Pace.  Ch. 
Oh your Servant speaking affectedly sweet Mr. Airy; I easily believe you've been Side-Glassing in the Park, Side-boxing at the Playhouse, Acting in the Pit, nay on the Stage too, but no more for me, I dare swear, than for any Human Thing in Petticoats. Some little forgetful Mask has disappointed the no less forgetful Mr. Airy, and I may thank her for this Visit.  Ai. 
No, demme, Madam, I begin to leave off Masks; they are grown doubly dangerous of late. Sits down in an odd careless Posture But, pray, why han't you a Couch here▪  Ch. 
A Couch! Bless me! A Couch! What for?  Ai. 
Is that a Question to be asked a Gentleman? why, for many Uses, my Dear▪ though 'twere but to loll on.  lolls, picking his Teeth. Ch. 
Spoken en Gallant Homme, as I'm a Christian; respectful and civil to amazement! Hark you, Spark▪ are you still as mad as you used to be?  Ai. 
I was just going to ask you the same Question. But hark you, han't I forgot to tell you how damnably I love you?  Ch. 
Love me! Bless me! how abruptly you expose a Declaration of Love! This is the first happy Moment I ever heard of it, as I'm a Christian.  Ai. 
Yet I'm confoundedly in Love with you to Day. But we young Fellows are all so full of Mercury, and one Thought drives out another—  Ch. 
Just as one Mistress drives out another.  Ai. 
No, I'm a Dog if I don't think I shall love you, even after▪ I am dead. There's something in you so janty, so j●-n●-s●ay-quoyish! Tho methinks you look worse to Day than ever I saw you look in my Life! Why don't you lay on a little more Red? Stay, is that your Hair or a Tour?  Ch. 
O good Mr. Whatd'you call, for Gad-sake don't look upon me to Day; I'm not a Creature: I should have kept my Bed, as Sir Finical Self-love does, to rest my Features: I've been so sick these Two Nights, that instead of causing a Love without Remedy, I'm a mere Remedy for Love.  Ai. 
's Blood, Madam, what what d'you mean to speak thus of the finest Woman▪ in England, and my Mistress too? I'm only afraid you're fallen in love with some starched Fop, in Love with no Body but himself. Well, Woe be to him when I know him! I'll do his Business: Demme, I hate a Fop.  Ch. 
What, are you jealous?  Ai. 
Oh, like a Devil, 'tis the best Quality I have.  Ch. 
'Tis true, a Dose of Jealousy rouses up your sleepy Passion, just for the▪ World, as a Pinch of Snuff revives the Senses: But the Remedy loses its effect when often used.  Ai. 
Gad you're witty▪ Never let her be your Wife. sings. Now you talk of Snuff, do you take any? Here's the best plain Dust ever came from Sevil! I begin to leave it off; I take but Twice or Thrice this little Box full every Day— Look on the Inside, 'tis prettily painted.  Ch. 
O hideous! I look on your filthy obscene Box! I would not touch it for the World.  Ai. 
Look you, 'tis to show you I love to be free and sans facon. When shall you and I dine at Pontac's or the Rummer?  Ch. 
Ruder than Rudeness itself! what, talk of Taverns to a Woman of Condition, Monster!  Ai. 
Pshau▪ I go there every Day, with Twenty that are as Nice as your Ladyship. Let's see that Indian Fan, I fancy it turns two ways, and has as pretty Figures on the Inside as my Box.  Ch. 
You shall no more see it than I would your Box: Fans are as useful to us for Action, and when we've nothing to say, as your Boxes are to you. Fie, Gallanting of Fans is as much out of Fashion as Gallantry.  Ai. 
But not tearing of 'em, to get you to some Indian House, on pretence to give you better. Throl lollolol!  hums a Song, and tears the Fan. Ch. 
What, I suppose you've a Mind I should ask you to Sing?  Ai. 
Why the Devil don't you then? Gad, I fancy you are as fond of being asked as I. Why, you sing almost as well as I do. Come, let's sing the last Dialogue our Master set.  

DIALOGUE.  Man. 
Hark you, Madam, can't I move you?  
why the Devil do you run?  
Ha'ned I told you twice I love you?  
come then, kiss me, or I'm gone.  Wom. 
Foh! I hate a Rakish Lover,  
Do not discompose my Dress:  
Good familiar Spark, give over!  
how on Quality you press!  Man. 
From the Countess to the Cit.,  
every Beauty for me dies:  
Demme, why should I submit  
to do at on this Woman's Eyes!  Wom. 
Fifty Beaux expire for me,  
ogling, sighing all the Day;  
Yet not one dares be so free,  
though they let me win at Play.  Man. 
Sure we Rakes can better move you;  
see this Shape and Leg, my Dear!  
In one Minute more I'll love you  
than those Fops can in a Year.  Wom. 
But your Love will soon be over.  Man. 
Then you'll get a fresher Lover.  
Come, to Bed! I long t'embrace.  Wom. 
Leave my Hand!  Man. 
— Then lend your Face!  
First the Hand, and then the Face,  
Then the Breast,  
And then the rest,  
Then the Breast, and then—  Wom. 
— The Face.  Gives him a slap 'oth' Face. Man. 
's Death, I've a good mind to beat you;  
No; to vex you more, I'llgo.  
Thus I puff you— I'll go say,  
I refused your Love to Day.  Wom. 
Then I'll say how I did treat you.  Both together Man. 
None will believe you could do so.  Wom. 
All will believe I used you so.   Ai. 
Pretty well, pretty well, all but that damned Slap on the Face— Well, I shall run mad for you in Two Days, that's certain.  Ch. 
Poor Mr. Airy! what, gone so far of a sudden?  Ai. 
'Tis the Fashion now: What, would you have me court like a formal Cit, or freeze you with dull whining Stuff, and die in Simile like a mere Beau? We brisk Fellows push on in Love as in War, egad. Towns must quickly yield or be insulted with Bombs, that ruin them as Slander does Reputation, Demme.  Ch. 
O fie! the intolerable Presumption of Fellows! Had not you better make the Campaign in Flanders than in Pellmell and at the Wells and Bath?  Ai. 
Pox, I played away my Equipage-Mony at Piquet, and that damned Bassette— But tell me, dear Creature, how long must I still sigh in vain for you?  Ch. 
Exceeding Pretty, as I'm a Christian! Why, you have not begun yet, that I know of.  Ai. 
What a Pox, do you reckon this Visit nothing?  Ch. 
When you can be constant, perhaps I may think you deserve Encouragement.  Ai. 
's Death, at that rate I might wait long enough, Child! I find I must storm the Outworks, in order to a General Assault— Thus then I invest the Town, my fair Enemy.  Embraces her. Ch. 
Nay then 'tis Time to call for Relief— Who's there? Uncle! What were you asleep?  Gaymood starts up. Ga. 
You may swear it, or how▪ could I have been so long without talking? Pox, this Wine is got into my Head! Well, what's the Matter?  Ch. 
When a Woman begins to cry out, you may believe the Jest is over.  Ai. 
Why, 'twas but just going to begin.  Ch. 
I find we've jested too long, I must leave you.  exit Ai. 
I fear I have, for I must follow you in earnest.  exit Ga. 
Jest or Earnest, 'tis all one to Sam: If he's caught let him take it for his Pains: They say there's no fooling with the Devil, but I fancy that Saying will hardly hold good of Women, Egad.  

Bewitching Woman's a resistless Evil,  
The Devil fools us, but she'd fool the Devil.   Exit. Enter Railmore, seemingly drunk, Sir Tope, and Ilbred, with his Sleeves tucked up, as from the Club Sir To. 
Nay, since you've got your Load elsewhere, and won't stay, prithee tell us here, in good sober Sense?  Ra. 
Then, in no sober Sense, if this Nephew of thine has her, he'll be a Cuckold; 'twould be a Shame if he were not, he has the best Qualifications for't, and wants that to be in the Fashion.  Il. 
Heighday! I'll warrant you then, your Londoners have brought up that Fashion, these dead Times, for want of Trade; a Cuckold!  Ra. 
Ay, or a Husband, that's all one, I think: Look you, you Put, I'll stand to what I say. reeling, flings down a Letter, the Squire takes it up Canst thou read Squire? Here's a Letter, I took it up by Chance; from whom and to whom d'you think it is, hah?  Il. 
Odds me, 'tis from Francelia! 'Tis the same Hand as mine: Let see— he reads scurvily My dear Lord, though your Francelia is condemned to marry a Fool— (thats me) you may help her to revenge on him the Wrong that's done you— In spite of all slavish Bonds, she vows to be my Lord Lovewel's while she is Francelia— Ods bobs! who'd ha' thought it?  Sir To. 
May the Curse of small Beer, in an Evening light on me, if I don't go and rattle her to some Tune anon!  Ra. 
Hang her, Man! ne'er go to her, 'twill spite her more: Besides, my Lord is a bloody-minded Devil, he makes no more of killing a Man than a Doctor of Physic does.  Sir To. 
Odsooks, 'tis all a Case, I'll go— but I'll consider on't first.  Enter Major Buff. Ma. 
Odsbobs, Sirs, why d'you leave us so? you're Three Bumpers behindhand. There's Justice Dolt swears at you like any Carrier in a Slough. Come, Master of mine, come in; don't stand here holding of a Parley.  Ra. 
Not I; I am not such a Sot; I have enough: I'd as soon go to a County-Feast, or a Punning Club at London.  Ma. 
Why, there are not so many Fools here as at London, Friend of mine!  Ra. 
There are fewer Fools here indeed, because there are fewer People.  Ma. 
Odsbobs, that Shan't serve turn, you shall drink with us for all that.  Ra. 
I'd sooner go back to London among the Rabble for, there tolerable Wine at least is had, in good Rooms, if not in good Company; but here your Room is wretched, your liquour bad, and your Company abominable; and so farewell, Brother Sots.  Exit. Sir To. 
Well, go thy ways, Nutmeggrater! what pity 'tis, Major Buff, that such a tart witty Knave can't drink!  Enter Plot, dressed like a Gipsy. Two or Three Gipsies. Plot. 
I tell you your Fortune, you pretty Man; you live well, you be good Fortune.  Ma. 
What Vermin ha'we here? Gipsies! nay then mind your Pockets.  Plot. 
An angry one, an angry one!  Il, 
Gad, Uncle, they shall tell me my Fortune, for all that, but I'll mind 'em.  Plot. 
Ay, presently; cross you my Hand with one piece of Silver, I tell you all then.  Il. 
Here 'tis, old Egypt!  gives him Mony. Plot. 
Let me see your Head! Oh the good strong Head, fit for the Country Justice!  Il. 
What! tell a Man's Fortune by his Head?  Plot. 
Yes, we tell the Lawyer the Fortune by both the Hands, the pretty Woman by the Eye, the Lover by the long Nose, the Drunkard by the Coppernose, the Dancing-Master by the Foot, the Tailor by the Calves of the Leg, the Alderman by the Forehead, and you by the whole Head together.  Il. 
Why, what dost thou take me for then?  Plot. 
Let see! You no be the Gentleman.  Il. 
How! no Gentleman?  Plot. 
No, but you be the Squire.  Il. 
Oh ho! well, I'll try your Skill e'Faith. Come, when waned I well last, hah?  Plot. 
You have not been well lately.  Il. 
Now thou'rt a greater Liar than Patridge's Almanac.  Plot. 
No, I ben't, I see by your Hand that 'twas— the Itch.  Il. 
The Itch! Thou liest like the Devil's Tooth-Drawer.  Plot. 
I mean the Itch of Love. You be troubled with it yet. You love the very fine Woman, but you be jealous of her, and will not have her for fear—  Il. 
Hum! if thou canst but tell me how old I am, I'll believe thou knowest whether she would be honest or no.  Plot. 
Let me see your Mouth! How old was you when your Father Died?  Il. 
Sixteen.  Plot. 
Don't stir! and 'tis now since he died.  Il. 
Five Years.  Plot. 
Look you, I find that if you marry this Woman that you design to court to Day, you be one very great Cuckold by some great Person; but if you not go to her, and take no notice at all, you soon will have another more to your Mind, with great deal Money; but this is not to bring you one Cross: And for a Proof of this, I will tell you your Age as you ask me— You be— you be— just One and twenty, as I find by your Mouth.  Sir Top. 
stops Plot, Ilbred and Major Buff run after the  Gipsies. 
The Gipsies steal off, having first picked Ilbred ' s Pockets and Sir Topewel ' s.  Sir To. 
Odsooks, the Gipsies ha' picked my Pocket— stop 'em, I have one fast— Ah Rogues! You tell Fortunes, but could not tell your own. You shall be trust up next Assizes, hanged in Chains, and shown for a right Egyptian Mummy.  Plot. 
Good Sir, hear me! As I'm an honest Man, 'twas not I picked your Pocket; besides, I'm no Gipsy, an't please you. Oh! Good your Worship, let me go; I'll discover a Plot to you.  Sir To. 
A Plot! no more Plots, we've had too many already.  Plot. 
'Tis a Plot against Squire Ilbred to fool him out of his Mistress.  Re-enter Ilbred and Major. Il. 
Fool me! The best Lord in the Land make a Fool of me, I won't marry.  Ma. 
The Devil helps these same Gypsies, they were too nimble for us.  Sir To. 
Nay, now I smell a Rat; well, speak Truth and thou shalt go free.  Plot. 
I am my Lord Lovewel's Man, Sir, set on by Mr. Railmore, who e'en now, pretending to be drunk, got you out, and kept you a talking till he saw us, to give me an Opportunity to make the Squire believe he'll be a Cuckold if he marries Mrs. Francelia: He was to show you a Letter; that's a sham-one, upon my Honour▪ as well as that the Squire received.  Sir To. 
Why, this was no Sham-Plot tho; this was a Plot indeed: Well, I set thee free for this Discovery; but canst thou not tell me more?  Plot. 
I shall be turned away, Sir.  Sir To. 
Come, fear not; we'll provide for thee.  Plot. 
Well, you are such good natured Gentlemen that it goes against my Heart to see you deceived. I will tell you, whatever comes on't.  Sir To. 
I'll reward thee to thy own Content; believe me, I am no Courtier.  Plot. 
You must know, my Lord is to marry Mrs. Francelia very privately to Night; not that she hates the Squire, but because my Lord is a Lord, I think: I know no other Reason; for I know some Women that have stayed Twelve Years for a Lord, and now would be glad to take up with a Squire, or any thing. Now I fancy▪ I could put your Worship in a way to put his Nose out of Joint, but—  Sir To. 
Come, but me no Butts! serve him, and I'll do thy Business; thy Lord himself shan't live better than thou shalt. Cousin, give him some of the Broad Pieces thou hast for a Taste.  Il. 
Odsme! they're all Gipsied away: My Pocket has been gutted already. Well, till anon, take this Ring, and that Tobacco Box.  gives 'em to Plot. Plot. 
Pray excuse me, Sir; I hate to take any thing for doing good— won't this look like a Bribe?— These real Gipsies, whom I got to come with me▪ could not forbear stealing— Your Worship's most humble Servant— Well, I believe I might easily convey you, when 'tis dark, into the Room by the Hall, where my Lord intends to be married to your Mistress, unknown to any Body but myself and the Chaplain; there won't be so much as a Light, and they are to whisper all the while, for fear Sir Thomas should come and spoil all.  Il. 
O rare! We'll come, we'll come.  Plot. 
'Twill be dark about an Hour hence, Sir, I'll wait for you near the Hall, but than you must be very private: Your Worship's most humble Servant.  Ex. Pl. Sir To. 
Now, Lads, let's go Drink!  Going. Enter Lord Lovewel and Airy. Ai. 
Here they are!  L. Lov. 
A Word with you, Sir.  Stopping Illbred. Sir To. 
Make haste then, for we're a dry.  L. Lov. 
I hear, you raise your Pretences to a Lady, whom I Court with her Father's Consent.  Sir To. 
Ay, and he shall Wed her, and Bed her with my Consent, and her Father's Consent. Do you come to be Invited to the Wedding?  L. Lov. 
No, we come to forbid the Ba●es, Sir, and to desire you to desist.  Il. 
But what if I wont, Sir?  L. Lov. 
Then I must try to make you.  Ma. 
So, here's like to be otherguess fighting than we have on our Muster-Days: I'll go get a Reinforcement, and then boldly march up— in the Rear of it.  Aside. Exit. L. Lov. 
You wear a Sword, Sir!  Il. 
Nay, 'tis but a Hanger neither. Look you, I ain't for Single Rapier; we scorn your little Spitfrog Play: That's a French Trick: But for Wrestling, Cudgels, or good downright Backsword slashing, may haps I won't turn my Back to the best Master of the Science in the County.  L. Lov. 
Why, that's only fit for Butchers and Hedge-Fencers, to fight shame Prizes before a Bear-Garden Rabble.  Il. 
I'll Drink with you for her then, and Uncle will be my Second.  L. Lov. 
Sir, if you would show yourself a Gentleman, get a Sword and—  Il. 
My Bay Gelding shall run▪ with the best Horse in your Stable for her, three Heats, Weight him and Inch him— Methinks I should not want Courage, I drink Stout and Cherry-Brandy every Day.  Aside. Sir To. 
Odssooks, say no more, couz, Lugier out, we'll make their hollow Blades fly in shatters about their Coxcombs.  Ai. 
Say you so, Sir? Then have at yours.  They draw and fight: Sir Top▪ and▪ Ilb▪ give way till the Clowns come, than they come forward, and are, by a Mistake, knocked down by their Party, and crawl off: The Clowns are beaten off the Stage. Enter Humphrey and two Clowns with Flails and Quarter-staffs, Major Buff behind 'em, Hallowing, and Parson Humdrum while they are fighting. Hum. 
Odsnigs, Thrash 'em thick and threefold; have among you blind Harpers, fall Back fall Edge.  Pars. 
Hold, hold, Gentlemen, Pax▪ est bona res, says a Learned Father; Peace is a good Thing: Knock 'em down, Humphrey, Peace is a good Thing: Knock 'em down, Humphrey.  Exit▪ with the Clowns. Ai. 
Come, my Lord, we've got the Day, as most Generals do, by Chance▪ You'll scarce be made one, tho' we should win t'other Battle; so, let's away to think of other means to defeat your Rival effectually; for, after all, he's but the more dangerous for being a Blockhead.  Exeunt. Enter Lady Single; with a Book in her Hand; her Woman at a Distance. La. 
Oh, why do we complain we live too little! When even the Wise want something more than Wisdom to fill up the long useless Blanks of Life! Tired by ourselves, with others soon uneasy, a while with Books we trifle Time away; but even that solitary Pleasure grows insipid, and often wakes the Cares it should beguile; whereas, he that knows nothing, doubts of nothing! So, Cowley, thou sayst right, and Life is an incurable Disease.  Enter Railmore. Ra. 
Pardon me, Madam, if I am so selfish as to break in upon your Meditations! Hearing that my Lord and Mr. Airy were gone to the Club, I was walking this way till they▪ come back; for I guess they'll hardly be able to stay there longer than I did: Well, I should be sicker yet of the Country than of London, were there no better Society there.  La. 
You'll find that scarce enough, I doubt, Mr. Railmore.  Ra. 
Yes, Madam, yet some few Men and Women of Sense, I hope will make me amends.  La. 
Women here! Why, Romances, Chaplains and Simplicity, or rather Rusticity, spoil more of 'em for Conversation, than Affectation does at London.  Ra. 
Nay, as for Simplicity, Madam, 'tis a Stranger to this Family at least; if 'tis not one in so fair a Lady as yourself to be an Enemy to Man.  La. 
Not while Man is such an Enemy to Woman.  Ra. 
'Tis pity you're so prejudiced against us all; for some one might have Loved you on the Square, and thus have prevented that Rough, Scornful, Melancholic Air that frightens away the Love your Face and Sense attract.  La. 
What, do you believe Love makes us more agreeable▪ Mr. Railmore?  Ra. 
Certainly, Madam, it wears away gently all our Native Roughness, gives a pleasing Turn to our Expressions, a taking Air to our Person, and winning Graces to all our Actions; nay, I'll maintain it makes a Woman more Beautiful.  La. 
More Beautiful! Nay, now I doubt you are more a Dissember than I thought you.  Ra. 
Why, Madam, as I speak to a Woman of Sense, I can prove my Assertion: Pray is not the Face the Mirror of the Mind?  La. 
Without doubt it should be so.  Ra. 
Does not then a Mind given over to cold Indifference communicate a certain Lethargy to the Face, that makes every Feature lifeless and unactive, and spreads a chilling unlovely Air over the whole Person?  La. 
This is somewhat likely, I think.  Ra. 
Now on the contrary, a single Spark of Love happily kindled in a youthful Heart, makes the Imagination quicker, the Wit more free, the Conversation more lively, the Eyes more sparkling, and diffuses o'er the Face that sprightly moving Je-ne-scay-quoy, whose Charms 'tis impossible to resist.  La. 
Since I was Born, I never was so strangely tempted to make a Trial of this.— Aside.— But seriously do you believe, Mr. Railmore, I should look more tolerably if I showed less Averson to your Sex?  Ra. 
Give me leave to convince you now of what I said; but first be pleased to let your Woman give us a Song that may divert you from more serious Thoughts: Your Dress too should be artfully loose, and carelessly Genteel; for Love neglects us, when we neglect ourselves.  La. 
Well, for once I'll humour you in your Frolic: Sing us a Song!  To her Woman. Ra. 
'Sdeath, what I am doing? I like this Woman strangely, but then I— Aside.— hate the Nuptial-Noose as much. She's vastly Rich too, and I have scarce enough left to Live. What shall I do? If I Court her in Earnest, I may be made her Jest, and all the World's. Thus Love begins by Fooling, till we Fool ourselves; and what is worse, we know it, yet go on.  

A RONDEAU.  
MOrtals, learn your Lives to measure,  
Not by length of Time, but Pleasure.  
Now the Hours invite comply;  
While you idly pause, they fly:  
Blessed, while a brisk pace they keep,  
But in Torment when they creep.  
Mortals, learn your Lives to measure,  
Not by length of Time, but Pleasure.  
Soon your Spring must have a Fall:  
Losing Youth, is losing all.  
Then you'll ask, but none will give,  
And may linger, yet not Live.  
Mortals, learn your Lives to measure,  
Not by length of Time, but Pleasure.   La. 
Well, Master, am I now as I should be?  Ra. 
You only want seven or eight Patches: They are to Women what Shades are to Pictures, or Stars over the Face of Night; a Beauty's no more complete without 'em, than a Beau is without Powder.  La. 
Fie, they should be as scandalous now as Velvet-scarves, or Velvet-Faces those greater Patches: Sempstresses, Barkeepers, Chambermaids and City Beaux, wear 'em.  Ra. 
There's no harm in a few for all that; but I would not have you like my old Lady Tawdry, whose fat Face looks just like a Gammon of Bacon stuck over▪ with Cloves, with more Patches on than she's Years old, over her double Mask of Hypocrisy and Paint.  La. 
Well, how d'you like me now?  She puts on some Patches, and makes Sign to her Woman to leave her, and she leaves 'em. Ra. 
Why, you'll soon bid fair for a Place among the First Rates; chiefly now there are so few! Well, be pleased to sit, and do but remember to Hear me, Believe me, and Answer me sincerely. I intent to speak to you, as 'tis supposed a Person would do, whose Wealth and Merit might embolden him to make his Addresses to your Ladyship.  They sit. La. 
I set little Value upon Wealth, true Merit affects me much more; so Mr. Railmore, pray speak as of yourself, and do not personate another.  Ra. 
Since you are so kind, Madam, as to prevent my hopes, and give me leave to profess the Love I have for you, I'll wave all those Hyperboles, so commonly lavished in Declarations of Love, and all the Hell of Pain which whining Fools, and designing Knaves pretend to feel, and really deserve.  In a very Respectful manner. La. 
All exploded threadbare Cant, to be cast off, like dull Romances, and only used by Pedants and Abigails.  Ra. 
I'll neither meanly Cringe nor saucily Presume; neither magnify your Worth by Flattery, nor debase my own by affected Dispraise, or Self-Commendation: No, Madam, the only Eloquence, I ought to use to persuade a Woman of your▪ Sense, is my sincerity in doing Justice to your Merit: Thus I only urge the Esteem I have for you, to claim your Ladyship's.  La. 
'Tis the surest way to gain it.  Ra. 
And if I ever obtain that Blessing, you'll never find the least Unevenness in my Temper, the least Contradiction in my Sentiments, or Decay in my Affections.  La. 
Were this possible, Sir, I must own 'twould be as singular, as sweet.  Ra. 
Can you wrong me so much as to doubt it, Madam?  La. 
We easily doubt of what we wish.  Ra. 
Think more favourably of a Man whom you have always found to speak his Thoughts, and who being tired with long wandering, and ripe for a Retreat, would fix a grateful Heart, and be for ever True.  La. 
Sure you forget you are a Man, Mr. Railmore! What, could you Love a Wife, none but a Wife, and that for ever too?  Ra. 
Yes, Madam, could that▪ Wife resemble you so much as to be thought yourself: But that's above my hopes: Yet our equal Aversion hitherto to Marriage, to Fools▪ Flattery, and the Hurry of the World, shows two Humours so suited to each other, that they would seem but one, if both were joined: And as each of us at once would Conquer, and be Conquered, such an Union of two Marriage-Haters could be but Honourable and Sweet to both. we'd pity wretched Couples, linked by the poor Sympathy of Interest, or Frenzy; while you and I, clasped in each other's Arms, would think we two engrossed all the Delights they forfeit, and Life and Love can give— Oh do not turn that Lovely Face aside; or I shall think you're made of Ice indeed, and hate myself for being not like you.  She turns aside, and looks in her Glass, and sighs. La. 
By Heaven! He has kept his Word: I Blush to think on't, yet almost wish he might be in Earnest.— Aside.— I Vow, Mr. Railmore, you act your Part so well, that Truth itself could scarce have moved me more.  Ra. 
By Heaven, Madam, 'tis real all; and to prove it with a Witness, I'll send for some living Form of Sanctity to confirm it.  La. 
What, are you then come to the End of Love already?  Ra. 
No, no, dear Madam, I would only come to the Seal of it. Consider if our Sex's Passion ends before yours; 'tis chiefly through your Coldness at first, and your Fondness at last. We set out too soon, or you too late; and you either Starve Love, or overload it so, that the poor Thing seldom holds out to its Journey's end: But you and I setting out together, our Loves shall keep pace with each other, and their Race, and that of Life be the same.  La. 
But will not the whole World laugh at us?  Ra. 
The Thought on't moves me a little, I must confess: But what's the World, the Vile Mad World to us? Besides we may be a while as private as you please, and Laugh at those who vainly hope to Laugh at one of us.  La. 
Well, I must needs own you're an excellent Master, since you have in so little a Time made me look less disagreeably, and almost persuaded me, a Man may be worthy of being Loved. Could I believe you such——  Ra. 
Oh! I am wild to convince you of it more feelingly. Let me seize that fair Hand, and bribe it with fond Kisses, to be a Pledge to mine of a Return. Ah! let me, let me in this sweet, this wise Extravagance of Passion, kindly force you to come and make it lawful now.  

Too long in vain against your Heaven you strove:  
The only Care that should a Woman move  He draws her along half complying. 
Is to be fair, to be beloved, and love.   Exeunt.  

ACT V.  
SCENE, a Room.  Enter Kitty in Page's Clothes, and Frankly in Chambermaid's. Kit. 
WELL, you have made me put on Page's Clothes, but I can't put on Page's Assurance. I tremble, and have not power to go.  Frank. 
What! afraid to go and be married to the man you say you love?  Kit. 
No, rather afraid my Sister should hinder it.  Frank. 
There's a grave Gentleman in black hard by, who'll soon put that out of her Power, and then you may easily get out in this Disguise.  Kit. 
Nay, I was forced to tell her a fair Story to get from her: she believed me presently, for, I thank Heaven, she never could catch me in a Lie, and yet I tell I don't know how many every day: But what will she say when she finds I have deceived her?  Frank. 
Psha, whom do we not deceive to be married? Think o' the Nunnery.  Kit. 
Well, let's go, I fancy I was not made to be a Nun.  Exeunt. Enter Sir Tho. Gaymood, Sir Topewell, and Illbred. Sir Tho. 
I tell you I have taken care my Daughter shall entertain him as she ought: I have enjoined her to think no more of my Lord Lovewel. But see! here she comes.  Enter Francelia. Sir Tho. 
Daughter, you know what I said to you: Make much of Squire Illbred for my sake, more for his, and more still for your own. Come, Sir Topewell.  Sir Tho. 
Go go, get you gone, I must stay a little to hearten him up.  He sits. Exit Sir Thomas. Illbred walks in odd Postures. Fran. 
Will you be pleased to sit, Sir?  Ilb. 
Thank you, Madam, I am well as I am: I love to be in a standing Posture.  Sir Top. 
What, won't you sit by your Mistress, man?  Ilb. 
Now I think on't, I don't much care if I do; nay, and lie by her too.  He sits. Sir Top. 
Mark that! heighboy! To Fran.— Say something to her!  To Ilbred, jogging him. Ilb. 
We've had a fine day to day.  Fran. 
But an odd one, Sir, in my Opinion.  Sir Tope. 
Speak to her, good Lad!  To Ilbr. aside, and Ilbred jogs him again angrily. Ilb. 
Why, the Roads are as dry as these Board's.  Sir Top. 
Ay, and the dryer they are, the dryer they make us: Would I had a Bumper or two of that▪ Hock! Aside. Speak to her, I say.  To Illbr. Ilb. 
Pray, Madam, what News d'ye hear?  Fran. 
Truly, Sir, none that's good: A Friend of mine is importuned to marry a man she does not love.  Sir Top. 
Is that such ill News? Why, 'tis as common in Marriage to hate at first, and then love, as 'tis to love at first and then hate. x, to her! Odsooks thou'rt at least a quart too low. When first I went a wooing, I made myself half drunk, and then I spoke up as boldly as a Member that either scorns or wants a Pension.  Ilb. 
Well, when once we're got acquainted, I'll mend my Hand.— Pray, Madam, how old may you be?  Fran. 
You should never ask a Woman her Age, Mr. Ilbred, lest she answer you false, or disoblige herself.  Ilb. 
Cry mercy, I meant no more harm than a man that cheapens a Horse or a Mare does, when he asks how old 'tis: I asked, because I fancy you and I are much of an age, and thus may the better be yoked together.  Fran. 
'Tis not likeness of Age, but of Inclination, that makes the Yoke easy, Sir.  Ilb. 
I've nothing to say as to that; but if Somebody loves Somebody, as well as Somebody loves Somebody, I know what I know.  Fran. 
What's that, Sir?  Ilb. 
Why than Somebody will have Somebody, or Nobody, inspite of Every body.  Fran. 
'Tis well if any body can understand you.  Sir To. 
Look you, that is, if you love him as well as he loves you, 'tis a March; tho' this same Lord we saw here thought to have huffed him out of you, and forged a Letter as from you, to make us believe you'll Cuckold my x, yet he dares venture on you, nay, and take you, tho' you had not a Smock to your Back.  Fran. 
My Lord, contrive a Letter as from me.  Sir Top. 
Ay, that he did; his surly Companion showed it us. Well, what say you? Nothing? Well! I find there's one Woman in the World has not too much Tongue. x, say as I tutored you.  To Ilbred, jogging him. Ilb. 
Look you, Madam, I an't used to make Love, and mayn't talk so much like a Courtier (never the worse man for that) I am downright Dunstable, I've for these many Months hoarded up——  Sir Top. 
A Barnful of good hearty Country Love for you.  Ilb. 
Uncle, hold you your prating Tongue, will you; or rather get you gone; John the Butler, your old Pot-Companion wants you: I'm in now, man.  Sir Top. 
Then push it home, Boy. God b'w'ye.  Exeunt. Ilb. 
I fancy I can talk better now the old Sot my Uncle has left us. Faith and troth, I loved you this great while, and if you'll be ruled by a Fool, e'en have me, I dare say you'll be Mother of many Children▪ What say you? Come, as the new Song has it, Here's my Heart, and here's my Hand too; all that's mine shall be thine, Body and Goods at thy Command too. Sings. Odsbobs, now I'm in, you shall see me jig it away: I've got Musicianers just by: Soho Fiddlers! play me a Lesson; come, Roger a Coverly, a Jig, any thing, play your May-day Tune, Tom Crowder.  Enter Fiddlers, and Ilbred dances. Ilb. 
Now go about your business, and leave me to manage mine: O sweet Mistress Frances, I long to be at another sort of Dancing with you; faith and troth I've loved you this great while.  Fran. 
I'm afraid the Clown will prove as impudent at last as he was shamefaced. Aside— Sir, you surprise me with the News of your Love.  Ilb. 
Odsbobs, is it a News to you? Why, I've been at Church, and what business could I have there but to see you, think you? I've hunted by you▪ all▪ along to the same intent, and used to hollow in a Morning, to wake you, that you might know on't, thus, Soho!  Hollows▪ Fran. 
The noise was the only Instance of your Love that ever disturbed me to this day; but I'll beg another: 'Tis my first Request, so I hope you'll not deny it.  Ilb. 
Nay, to be sure I must do as you'd ha' me, that you may do as I'd have you.  Fran. 
Then, Sir, that first Request is, That you would be so kind as to leave me, and think no more of me.  Ilb. 
Look you, Madam, I was told you'd be as shy as a high-metaled Filly when she's to be backed first; but troth, you may kick and wince, and stand up an end, but I won't be thrown off the Saddle, I won't budge a Foot as long as my Name's Ilbred.  Enter Lord Lovewel. Ilb. Ilbred starts, seeing him 
Now I think better on▪ t' I must humour you. A good Evening to you; but I'll be with you sooner than you think.  Fran. 
Sir, Sir!  Ilb. 
I'll be with you anon; I must go look after my Horses.  Exit. Fran. 
You have a mighty Ascendant over this Gentleman, my Lord; he leaves the Room as soon as he sees you.  L. Lo. 
You have a greater over me, Madam; nothing▪ could make me leave you.  Fran. 
But my Father, who ought to have the greatest Ascendant over me, commands me to leave you to entertain him.  L. Lo. 
But my Rival is kinder than your Father, and leaves me to entertain you. Ah, Madam! while you stint me to bare Friendship, must he engross the Treasure of your Love, which he wants Sense to value as he ought?  Fran. 
The less Sense a Man has▪ the more he prizes Things whose worth is only imaginary. And after all, my Lord, he gives me no small Proof of his Esteem, in offering to ease my Father of the Charge of my Person, without a Portion to support that Charge. He uses no ill means to obtain me; he did not cause a false immodest Letter, written as by me to himself, to be shown his Rival, to deter him from pursuing his Intentions.  L. Lo. 
I do not know that he did so.  Fran. 
I say he did not, but I know who did.  L. Lo. 
Tell me who did, that I may punish him.  Fran. 
He needs no other Punishment but Neglect. Farewell.  Going. L. Lo. 
Going! What can this mean? Stay, Madam, explain your Riddle.  Fran. 
You, who did all this, need no Explanation.  L. Lo. 
ay! by all that's true, I know nothing of this, and blush to think you can suspect me of it.  Fran. 
There's more than Suspicion, I'm assured of it.  L. Lo. 
Hold, Madam, do not persist in thinking me so base as to deny the Truth, or I shall cease to think you what I thought you, and strive to grow indifferent. But tell me, who laid that mean Contrivance to my charge?  Fran. 
You would show your Resentment of the Discovery, but I need not tell you.  L. Lo. 
Nay then, I am convinced this is a mere Pretence for leaving me. 'Tis kind however to lessen my Sorrow for so sensible a Separation by ill usage. Well, Madam, I am yet too much disordered to have power to expostulate postulate with you: Farewell. Be as happy as you make wretched; I've nothing now to court but an honourable Death.  Going. Fran. 
Stay, my Lord, let's reason a little more calmly of this business.  Enter Gaymood singing, Railmore, and Plot. Ga. 
Ah! give me more, give me more, etc. Heyday! Gravity has doubled her Guards here to day! O'my word they both look as sullen as a new-married Couple, that find they've cheated one-another.  Ra. 
Perhaps they find they've done so without marrying.  Ga. 
What, still sighing, my Lord?  L. Lo. 
Still sighing, because still unhappy.  Ra. 
And still unhappy, because still in Love.  Ga. 
Gad, if I were in your place, I'd no longer be in Love, that I might no longer be unhappy.  L. Lo. 
Those that are in Love, and blame others for loving, are like those who are in Health, that blame others for being Sick.  Ga. 
Well, well, have a little Patience, we have been plotting that you may be quickly cured.  L. Lo. 
How! perhaps than you may know something of a Shame Letter! say, do you? Nay, quickly tell me, I'm all Impatience.  Ga. 
Why, perhaps we do, perhaps we done't; I won't tell you.  L. Lo. 
But the Lady accuses me of showing.  Ga. 
Psha, Psha, showing is necessary sometimes; the Lady is a Fool, My Lord: keep your Breath for her; go, get you gone together, be addressing and redressing, pressing and caressing, trying and denying, flying and lying, cooing and showing; but first be you going, that we may be doing.  L. Lo. 
But my Innocence—  Ga. 
Shall appear as white as Curds and Cream in nine and twenty minutes. The Grove is a pretty place for cooing Lovers; would you had the Wit to make use on't so long.  L. Lo. 
But———  Ga. 
Lord, will you ne'er ha' done? I hate a man that makes so many words.  Exeunt L. Lov. and Francelia. Rail. 
Well, Plot, are all things ready?  Plot. 
Yes Sir, but I fear your Tom will scarce be taken for Mrs. Francelia, tho' the Squire's as dull and credulous as a London Mob: If you could but get one of the Maids to pass for her in the dark, my Comrade can marry 'em by Rote, as well as the best Hedge-Parson between Marybone and Dukes-Place: The Rogue has such a mind to be married, that none can have the Form by Heart better than he; no, not a Maid of eight and twenty, nor a Widow of three Husbands.  Ra. 
What shall we do? Ilbred and his Uncle will be here presently, I suppose.  Enter Frankly. Ga. 
Catso! we wanted some body to fit a Squire, and who should come in the nick but a Chambermaid! Leave me to manage her: Away. Exit Railm. Plot, listen you Dog, and come in when you judge 'tis time.  Plot. 
Ay, Sir, we Waitingmen need not be bid to listen, we do it as naturally as Drawers, Landladies, Chambermaids, or Informers.  Plot goes and peeps by the Door. Ga. 
How now, my skittish piece of Chamber-stuff, have I caught you at last?  Frank. 
Pray Sir, let me alone.  he holds her by the Arm. Ga. 
To Morrow Morning.  Frank, 
I vow and protest Sir, I'll call.  Ga. 
Let it be so softly then, that no body may hear thee.  Frank. 
Let me go Sir, what will you get by keeping me here?  Plot. 
Not a Maidenhead, I dare swear.  Gay. 
Come, fear not, I'll be very kind; I swear I love thee.  Plot, 
So do I, as a Politician loves an Informer, for our own Ends.  Frank. 
I assure you Sir. I'm none of those; Pshau, let me go; are there not Citizens Wives, Masks, and other naughty Women enough?  Ga. 
Toast me, if they ben't as scarce of late, as honest Attorneys. What for Sea Captains, Land Officers, and City Beaus, there's scarce a Wench to be had for Love or Money.  Plot. 
That's a Lie, as too many can justify.  Ga. 
Have a care, thou'lt have the Green-sickness; gad, I love mightily to prevent it, Child, but the Devil shall cure it for me. But I have another Proposal to make to thee.  Frank. 
Pray Sir, don't keep me here; I assure you I am honest.  Plot. 
What will this World come to! O the Impudence of a Chambermaid that would scandalize her Calling!  Ga. 
Hark you, Prithee what wouldst thou be honest for? hah! Don't hundreds of battered Town Wenches get rich Husbands at last? Don't notorious Rascals jump into good Places, and detected Knaves keep their old ones, or get better? Don't we see cheating Collectors, squinting Bribe-mongers, embezzling Pursers, longwinded Paymasters, saggoting Officers, Brokers and Retailers of Offices and Benefices, Pimps, Stallions, Catamites, and the Devil and all of Rogues look big, ride in Coaches, respected and waited on by the Crowd of honest scoundrel Fools, that trudge it on the hoof? honest! ha, ha, hah!  laughs. Frank. 
Well, when you can make me live like one of these fine Folks, perhaps I may talk to you.  Plot. 
So, I knew 'twould come to that: Upon my honour, we poor Rogues cannot afford to be honest.  Ga. 
Look you Child, I'll put you immediately in a way to do it. Thou shalt marry Squire Ilbred, whom thou sawst here to day, a Man of 3000 l. a Year; Nay, and a Fool to boot. That is, provided thou'lt let me confirm him my Fool, as soon as Marriage has made him thine.  Frank. 
Sure Sir, you jest, 'tis impossible.  Ga. 
To deny me, you mean. Look you, he loves my Niece Francelia; and we have contrived it so, that he believes she's to marry my Lord this Evening in the dark, for fear of my Brother. The Squire is to come in my Lord's stead and wed her. Now you shall be introduced in her Place by my Lord's Man, who manages the Intrigue, and so she'll be secured to my Friend, and the Squire to you.  Frank. 
Oh! but Sir.—  Ga. 
Oh! but 3000 l. a year! say no more, it must be so; or— Oh! here comes the Man shall direct you  Frank. 
Well, I can't avoid complying, as things stand; the Consequence cannot be bad, what ever comes on't  aside. Re-enter Plot. Ga. 
Plot, Here's Fanny shall act my Niece, and Wed Squire Ilbred; be sure the Parson and you whisper all the while. As soon as you have done, we'll all come in and be Witnesses But hark you, Sir Pandarus; if you offer to be familiar, take notice, I'll make a Capon of a Craven.  Plot. 
Olaw, Sir! upon my honour, I'm not so ill-bred as to offer to be served before my Betters: I'll immediately leave her with the Parson.  Exit Plot with Frank. Ga. 
Ha, ha, hah! I can but laugh to think how I shall fool both Parties with one Plot, just as all other Matchmakers do. The Chambermaid shall fool the Squire, but I'll fool the Chambermaid. The Jade was honest just as others are, till a good Bribe came in the way.  Enter Sir Topew, and Ilbred. Sir To. 
What, alone, Squire?  claps him hard on the back. Ga. 
Not till you came, Knight; I was a thinking.  Sir To. 
That's a wonder! prithee, thinking o' what?  Ga. 
Why, only of bribing a Woman to cuckold the Fool her Husband on her Wedding Night; for I find nothing but a Bribe will do't. A Love Suit now is like a Law Suit, he that courts without Fees, starves his Cause, and sues in forma pauperis.  Sir To. 
Did not you tell me once you ne'er gave a Wench any thing?  Ga. 
True, there's the business, I would bribe her at another Man's cost; for I love as little to fee Wenches, as to bribe Lawyers; damn me, I hate to encourage Vice.  Ilb. 
Well, Sam, wilt speak a good word to thy Niece for honest Bob.  Ga. 
Between you and I, honest Bob, 'twill be needless; I fancy my Lord Lovewel will have her before to Morrow Noon, if he has her not by this time, and so I leave you.  Exit Gaymood. Sir To. 
I find this same Gypsie-fellow told us true, couz. she's to be married in hugger-mugger. I wish he'd come and make good his promise.  Ilb. 
God's bobs, tho' she frumped me, I fancy she's only strange at first, like other Cattle; but she has a strange way with her, let her say what she will, I cannot but like her. Well, I'd be content to leave off riding hard, and drinking hard, a whole Week, so I might but get her in a Corner, or on a Haycock, and no body▪ by.  Enter Plot. Plot. 
Oh! Sir, are you come? you're too late▪  Ilb. 
Odds lidikins, don't tell us so Man: Why, 'tis not half an hour since I left her. O law! O law! I could weep like any Calf now.  Sir To. 
If 'tis done, 'tis done; come away, and drown Sorrow; thou shalt go home as drunk as if thou cam'st from an Election.  Plot. 
Hold, hold Sir, I did but Jest with you; but a Moment later had been too— Well, Mrs▪ Francelia waits for me to take her aside, and my Lord is with her Father, discoursing about you and her. Come▪ now's your time, make no noise.  Ilb. 
Come along, I'm as still as a Mouse.  Exeunt. Enter Airy and Christina▪ Ch. 
Here my Uncle desired us to stay for him; but I can't guests his Design.  Air. 
Design! Why, he has as seldom any, as our Modern Play-Writers, unless it be to make us talk as he does himself.  Chr. 
To no purpose.  Air. 
But '●will not be my Fault, if we do not talk to the purpose▪ Madam. Love, Love, Madam! Nothing's to the purpose but that.  Chr. 
Nay, no Love in earnest; good Mr. Airy; don't I know you're a mere Weathercock?  Air. 
Yes, Madam, I may be like the Weathercock; for I never change till that which moves me changes; and all my Motions wait upon your Breath. But here▪ most Women are like our Wether, scorch us and chill us the same day: And others make Love so tedious a Plague—  Ch. 
As if there were not Plagues enough in Life, without making one of Loving; but some of you make as much haste to get out of Love, as they do to get in Debt.  Air. 
I am not for running so fast; for as one said, going to his Wife's Funeral; What need we make a Toil of a Pleasure?  Chr. 
Come, come, most of you serve your Mistresses as all People do their Guests: At first the Entertainment is warm and costly, but soon grows as cold as dull indifference or jaded Matrimony can make it.  Air. 
But I am for a love easy and agreeable, like your humour, and that must be lasting. Such a Love, Madam—  Chr. 
Is as indifferent a Love as one can wish, and in Truth, no Love at all▪  Air. 
No, Madam, 'tis a pretty, sociable Passion, like modern Friendship. It cheers a loving couple when together; yet is no pain to 'em when asunder. 'Tis like Fire in a Flint, it lies till 'tis urged, but than it never fails to sparkle.  C. H. 
Never Court One of our reserved Beauties, Mr. Airy, she would expect a stricter Duty from her Lover.  Ai. 
Yes, First he must be a Slave to Dress as much as she is to her Complexion, and never see her unless he's as Spruce as a Dancing▪ Master at his breaking up, or a politic Beau on a Birthday at Court.  Ch. 
Ay, for I heard of a Beau that lost a Lady for offering to approach her in a Coat with Pocket-holes an Inch too high, and Button-holes but Three Inches wide.  Enter Gaymood, who goes towards the Door and opens it. Sir Topew, Square Ilbred▪ and Frankly appear, and Parson Humdrum behind 'em. Gay. 
Now you shall have sport.  He says this, and goes towards the Door. Air. 
To promise Sport, is the way to spoil it.  Ch. 
What's he going to do?  Gay. 
Hold, hold, Sir, you must not Marry her.  pulling Frankly from Ilbred. Sir To. 
No more he must not; he has Married her already.  Ilb. 
Yes, Faith Unkle-in-Law that is now; you come a Day after the Fair; Here's my lawful wedded Wife, and your—  Gay. 
Brother's Maid, Brother-Sterling that shall be.  laughs. Ilb. 
Ha, ha, ha! You're merry disposed Uncle: Why, don't you know your own Niece?  Gay. 
Yes, better than you know your own Bride, it seems: Look on her in the light.  Ilb. 
Ha! What art thou?  a Candle is reached to 'em. Frank. 
Even what you said just now, my Dear, your lawful wedded Wife.  Ilb. 
The Devil's rather. God's bobs, do you take me for a Changeling? I was Married to Mrs. Frances.  Gay. 
Nay, thy Wife's Name's Frances; She's the Changeling: But my Cousin Francelia has not been in the Room this Evening.  Sir To. 
I'm in Amaze! Or, I Dream, or, I am Mad, or else I'm Drunk.  Frank. 
You have had my hand ever since the Good Man joined us, and Here's the Ring.  Ilb. 
Nay, then I'll hang myself, Olaw! Olaw!  Gay. 
Oh fie, what a filthy Death you've chosen? Remember you're a Gentleman.  Sir To. 
What, cheated! There's Conjuring in't. Ha! is't so, thou young Witch?  Gay. 
Come Knight, speak more kindly to your Niece; he has Married her you know, you're a Witness to't yourself.  Enter Railmore and my Lady Single, and Plot behind'em Ra. 
What's the matter, Gentlemen?  Ga. 
Why, Mr. Ilbred has committed Matrimony with One of the Maids, and would persuade us 'twas my Niece Francelia▪ that's all.  Sir To. 
This shan't pass so, d'you see.  Ga. 
No, 'tis past already, d'you see: How will you help yourselves? The Gudgeon that's caught in the hook may flounce, and flounder, but that wont do. He hugs it, and tugs it as a Man does his Wife.  Sings this. Ra. 
Hark you, Sir Topewel, and you Mr. Ilbred, I'll show you I'm not so much your Enemy as you Imagine: I fancy, I have One way to bring you off.  Ilb. 
How? ah, would you could▪  Ra. 
If you'll bind yourself in a Bond of Twenty Thousand Pounds, never to pretend to Mrs. Francelia, I'll try what I can do for you.  Ilb. 
Ay, with all my Spirit, and thank you too.  Ra. 
Here's a Bond ready drawn; look on it, 'tis but Signing and Sealing.  Sir To. 
Ay, ay, he shall Sign it and Seal it, and with more joy than any ever Signed a Contract of Marriage; here couz, Sign, Sign and Seal; but le's see if 'tis right first? heigh ho! how soon care comes upon a Man that's Married! he's no sooner noosed but he'd give his Ears to get off. Here 'tis Signed and Sealed.  Ra. 
Take off the Seal; you deliver this as your Act and Deed, for the use of the Party therein mentioned.  Ilb. 
I do. Well, now, dear Friend of ours, prithee tell us quickly, how shall I get off? Pray put a Body out of pain!  Ramires 
Look you, before this Company, I declare you free to Marry any One that will have you, except Mrs Francelia: For, as we got this Maid to Personate her, we got also One of my Lord's Men to Personate the Chaplain.  Ilb 
Olaw! olaw! Is that all you had to say? You're good to help a lame Dog over a Style.  Ra. 
Where is he? This is not the Man.  looking about and seeing Humdrum. Frank. 
That's the Man that married me.  Ga. 
God's death, this is none of Dick; this is Parson Humdrum.  Ra. 
Plot, Rogue, Dog, how is this? Why sure you did not let the Gentleman Marry a Serving▪ Wench in earnest?  Plot. 
As I'm an honest Person, Sir, I could not help it. I had got my Comrade ready according to your directions, and told the Squire and his Uncle so, but they would needs have a Parson of their own, whom they had brought: I did all in▪ the World to persuade 'em not to have him (they know it) but they were positive, and for fear of spoiling my Master's Match, I durst not hinder 'em.  Sir To. 
Rogue, Villain, Dog, let me come at him.  Plot. 
Nay, then, your humble Servant, tho' I know what I know 'tis time to scamper.  Enter Sir Thomas Gaymood. Sir Tho. 
What's the matter Sir Topewel? Mr. Ilbred what ails you?  Ga. 
Why, nothing, he would have taken a Wife with nothing, and he has One with nothing; so there's nothing lost: Tho' he has mistaken your Maid for your Daughter; sure the Maid will be kept Cheaper than the Mistress.  Chr. 
Not when the Maid comes to be the Mistress.  Ba. 
True; an Usurer's rakish Son, after his Dad's Damnation, or a half starved Seaman after his Payday, is not more Expensive,  Sir Tho. 
Well if he has Married her, let him make much of his blind Bargain.  Enter Humphrey, and Doll. Ham. 
What, and is Meester sped already! Wish your Worship Joy! Here's Doll Hoydon and I are Friends again, an't please you, and want but your Worship's Consent to be Married too.  kicks him and thumps him. Ilb. 
Here's the Consent I give you, with a Horsepox.  Hum. 
●iey day,! What time o'th' Moon is't? What Wasp, or Nettle has stung him?  Ga'▪ 
Why, thy Master ha● married thy mistress's Fellow-Servant through a mistake, and he is mad at it.  Hump. 
What, yonder▪ Minx! Odsnigs, I know what I know; now could I help him at a dead lift, but I have a good mind not to do it, for the sake of this same kick o' the breech he gave me.  Illb. 
How! canst thou help thy Master off of this ugly Job, Humphrey?  Hump. 
Mayhaps I can, mayhaps I won't; what then? You'd give me such another Kick as you did e'en now, would you?  Illb. 
Prithee, good Humphrey, don't take it in dudgeon; I'd ha' done as much to mine own mother. Why man, I'm mad. Here, hit me Two Kicks for my One; pray do, pray do; do but bring me off, and kick me till thou'st lost me, an'thee wouldst.  Hump. 
Well, now you cry pectcavi▪ I'll tell you: I and Don was looking for Sir Thomas' Chaplain, to tell him we should want him to give us a Cast of his Office; when who should we see▪ as Luck would have it, but this same Lass there in the high Topping, and a tidy Skip, a little tiny go-by-ground, not passin thus high. (I'm sure▪ she's no higher than a Horse-block) with the Chaplain mumbling over them out of his book; so we listened, and found he was making 'em as fast as a Parson can make Two Folks.  Ga. 
Pshau, pshau, sure this cannot be.  Hum. 
Why, you'd as good tell me a Bailiff's no Knave▪ I know her Face main well; D'you think I'm like your London-Folks? tell Lies? I'll take the Bibled Oath on't, and so shall Doll; won't you Doll?  Doll. 
Ay, as I'm an honest body, that I will  Kitty peeps. Illb. 
Ah boys!  He jumps, and plays ridiculous Tricks. Sir Tho. 
Ah boys! Cousin, dance, dance, I say: This brings thee off, boy; and as for you, Mistress Chouse, we'll have you hanged for marrying Two Husbands.  Sir▪ Tho. 
How! is this true, Sweetheart?  Frank. 
Why, what, shall— as I hope to be saved— no— for fear— I can't tell—  Sir Tho. 
You can't tell what to say; I find 'tis true.  Humphrey brings in Kitty. Hum. 
Look you, an't please your Worship▪ here's the Young Smock-faced Hobberdehoy she had picked out for a Cloak: I spied him now peeping in here▪ See, he's hardly big enough to go a nutting. I wonder how the man could have the conscience to marry'em. But some of 'em don't value a straw whom they cause to rue, so they're greesed in the fist▪ Tho I fancies too, they Two had been at other sport than Push pin▪ else he durst not ha' done't▪  Ai. 
A beardless boy! Fie, a Husband without a Beard is as unseemly as a Wife with Whiskers.  Chr. 
He's very Young indeed; but stay— sure▪ I should know that Face▪ It must be my Cousin Kitty! Cousin Kitty!  Air. Gr. 
Mistress Kitty!  Sir Tho. 
What, one Female Marry another! Do you make a Jest of Marriage?  Ilbred. 
Pray, don't you be Mistress Kitty! Pray done't, pray don't.  Sir Top. and Illbred, 
O Law! all's spoiled again; undone, undone!  Enter Lord Lovewel and Francelia. Fra. 
What do I hear, Mr. Illand. Is it possible you've Married my Maid for spite?  Illbr. 
Only a little by chance▪ I thought to have made sure of you: They have tantalised me twice with the hopes of being my own man again; but that, I fear, I never shall while I live: Yet perhaps you being her Mistress may persuade her.  Fra. 
Truly, Sir, she's no more my Servant, since you are her Lord and Master; but though you should never have been mine, I'm sorry for you: E'en take her with you when you will.  Frankly and Airy whisper. Illb. 
What, is she whispering already with another man?  Ai. 
Nay▪ ' be not jealous, Mr. Illbred; our whispering cannot be so fatal to you, as that you had with her, and Doctor Humdrum.  Sir Tho. 
Nay, then 'tis time to be gone! To be thus ensnared, and then fooled over and over again with shame promises of getting free is too much for Flesh and Blood to bear. ' Owns! I'll be revenged, if I live; come, come away.  Going with Illbred. Ai. 
Hold▪ you must take care of your Bride, Mr. Bridegroom, for all your huffing.  Frank. 
Nay then if the Bridegroom must take care of the Bride; you and Mr. Illbred must give me leave to take care of this pretty little Partner of mine.  Sir Tho. 
Take care of h●● and be hanged; the Devil a bit we'll take care of either.  Kit. 
Well, well, good angry red Nosed Gentleman, we'll take care of one another.  Sir To. 
What, affront my Nose; you little Snipper Snapper? Odsooks, it cost more a Painting than all the Saffron Faces in a Playhouse.  La. An. 
How Sister Kitty, are you mad?  Kit. 
No madder than your Ladyship.  Frank. 
She's only Married▪ Madam, and to a person that will strive to show himself not altogether unworthy that happiness.  La. Sin. 
How! married in earnest?  Illbr. 
Uncle, mind, mind a little!  Airy. 
Dear Madam, be pacified; the Chambermaid is Mr. Frankly, no more a Woman than myself; but a very worthy young Gentleman, whose Wealth and merit entitle him to a young Lady that has both: He discovered himself to me now, and told me he was forced to use this Disguise to secure pretty Mrs. Kitty to himself.  Sir Tho. 
What the Chambermaid prove a man at last!  Illb. 
Huzzah!  Skips about for Joy. Sir Tho. 
Huzzah, couz, thou'rt unmarried now: Odsooks let's go and be bloody Drunk for Joy.  Illb. Hollows. 
Odsbobs I'm more glad now I've missed the wrong, than if I had got the right.  Frank. 
I was informed your Ladyship would not suffer your Sister to entertain the least thoughts of a Husband; I got admittance here as a Maid-Servant two days ago; and as you threatened her with a Nunnery, she consented the more easily to be joined to me in more suitable Bonds.  La. Sin. 
You mean Spirited wanton Girl! Did you then regard my Admonitions no better? 'Tis true, I threatened you with a Nunnery, but 'twas but to deter you from marriage, the more fatal Prison of the two. See me no more.  Kit. 
Jeeringly. Come, Madam, we guess your Aversion to Marriage is somewhat abated, pray let your Anger be so too. Mr. Railmore, you'll interceded.  Smiling. La. Sin. 
How!  Frank. 
In short, we know that the same Spiritual Executioner that dispatched us had done as much for you two just half an hour before: So now 'tis about an hour too late for your Ladyship to use that style.  Chr. 
What, my Lady Single married!  Exit. Frankly with Kitty. Ld. Lo. 
Railmore married!  Fr. 
The two marriage haters married!  Ga. 
Nay, than miracles are not ceased!  Ai. 
Why a miracle? I never heard any one rail at the Courtier's Slavish Life, but what would at one time or other Sacrifice his Liberty to it.  La. Sin. 
The two extremes Love and Hate touch one another, like Laughing and Weeping.  Rail. 
You are all Ephesian Matrons one way or other.  Ga. 
What a Pox, are you capping of Sentences? Wish you Joy— of a thousand Pounds a year, Jack; for as for a Wife I know better Things than to wish a Friend Joy of that.  Ai. 
Wish you Joy of your Chambermaid here! Did not you say you had had her already, Sam? hah?  Ga. 
Pshau, Pshau, so I would have had her, man; had she been a Chambermaid.  Ch. 
Cousin, shall I laugh at you two a little, for railing at matrimony?  Ld. Lo. 
Pray spare 'em, Madam, they have done well▪ Their Inclinations agreed before, and consequently will now▪ though a much better way. But now, Madam, to Francelia since I hear, my Rival has obliged himself never to raise his Ambition to you, let me beg of you to condescend to make me happy. Sure, Sir Thomas will no longer be an obstacle to this; I had his Leave to urge my suit to you.  Sir Tho. 
Ay, But I'm loath to part with so much money at a Time that there's so little.  Ld. Lo. 
While Sir Thomas seemed disposed to part with his money, as well as with his Daughter, it would have been imprudence to have bated him the first. But we'll not differ about it: So, Madam, if you will but at last add your consent to your Father's, I'll ask no other Treasure but your Person, which is indeed too valuable to need any addition to recommend it.  Fran. 
This so generous Offer, my Lord, convinces me of the reality of your Esteem; but to make the best Return I can, I solemnly declare, That if my Father will not be pleas▪ d to part with what he promised should be one Consideration of his parting with me to you, I will never consent to marry while I live.  Sir Tho. 
How! Adad, though I love money, I love Generosity too▪ Here, my Lord, take her, she▪ s yours; the money I promised shall be yours too. I must confess, I was tamper▪ d with, and tempted; but there are few here would not have been tempted to break their word for Ten Thousand Pounds.  Lord Lo. 
I humbly thank you, Sir.  Ga. 
Wish you Joy▪ Squire.  Illb. 
Thankyou; but Joy of what?  Ga. 
Why, of being not married; or rather, of being married, yet no Husband: I'm sure many would be glad to be greeted thus.  Ai. 
I'm so little afraid of being one of those, Madam, that if I can be so happy as to prevail with you to approve of my Love, as well as I hope your Father will of my Circumstances, I shall have nothing more to wish but to be yours for ever.  Chr. 
What, are you making Love in Jest again? To be serious is a Jest. First, let us be sure you can continue some time in a mind: Mistresses, they say, are valued by most of you like Plays, only for being New; You hardly come to see 'em after the Third Day, and it must be an extraordinary one, or an extraordinary Favour, if you come to the House Three Days after, though your Company's wanted there never so much.  Ai 
Oh▪ I shall still discover New Beauties, Madam, and love you more and more.  Ga. 
Pox, you grow too serious on a sudden, man; had you not better make Love in Jest still? The very Boy and Girl in the House will teach you to keep to that. Oh, here they are.— Come Sing the Dialogue my pretty Rogues!  

A Dialogue between a little Boy and Girl.  Boy. 
PRetty Miss▪ let's talk together,  
I play truant to come hither,  
To go with you up and down,  
I'd leave all the Boys in Town.  Girl. 
My dear Jemmy, how d'you do?  
I'd leave all the Girls for you,  Throws her Baby away. 
Nay, my finest Baby too.  Boy. 
Come, let's play at Man and Wife▪  Girl. 
Fie, you know that's full of strife.  Boy. 
No, we'll kiss and hug each other,  
Like my Father and your Mother.  Girl. 
Ay, that's better, come, begin,  
When you're out, I'll put you in.  Boy. 
Pray, be not so shy, my Diary.  Amorously. Girl. 
Keep your distance, or I'll tear you!  Scornfully. Boy. 
Are thy Bubbies coming, Child?  
Let me see!  Girl. 
—— Oh, Pray.  Boy. 
— Be mild.  Kisses her. 
None can see us, do not fear.  
Now a little more, good Betty.  Girl. 
Fie, you make me blush I swear;  
Yet methinks 'tis very pretty.  Boy. 
Well▪ we'll Marry e'er 'tis long.  Girl. 
You're too little.  Boy. 
—— You're too young.  Both. 
Oh! I cannot, will not tarry.  
Quickly, quickly let us Marry,  
For I cannot tarry long.   Ga. 
Very well▪ but I find they are seduced as well as the rest, by the evil Spirit of Matrimony.  Ra. 
What, can't our Example make a Convert of you?  Ga. 
No, saith; I should be afraid of the Matrimonial Curse, ●●●●● without stomach, walk about without ease, sing without ●i●th, go to bed without desire, enjoy without pleasure, lie without Rest, be Cuckolded without mercy, ●ught at without pity, and plagued without end.  La. Sin, 
What, will you never have better Thoughts of our Sex?  Ga. 
Ay, when you all cease to go to Prayers without Devotion, to fawn without Love, to weep without sorrow, to be chaste without Virtue, and to get Children without your Husbands.  Re-enter Frankly dressed like a Gentleman, and Kitty in her own Clothes. Plot behind 'em. Ai. 
Mr. Frankly, now your Friends may know you; you're yourself again.  Frank. 
Dear Airy, help me to obtain Sir Thomas▪ s, and my Lady Single's Pardon for using a Stratagem that may seem somewhat inhospitable to those who never felt the violence of Love. As for Mr. Illbred, he must not only forgive me, but honest Plot also, to whom I had made myself known before I was to wed the Squire; so that there was no danger on either side.  Illb. 
The short and the long of the Stor●●● that between Jest and Earnest I'm fairly choosed of my Mistress among you, e faith.  Sir Tho. 
Come, come, we'll get thee another▪ couz.  Illb. 
Get thee another, couz! Odsbobs, 'tis all along of you▪ Gnaw, gnaw, you Old Fool: Before George, I've as good a mind as e'er I had in my life, to have Susan, Sister's Chambermaid, for spite.  Frank. 
O fie, Sir, no Chambermaid in earnest▪ I beseech you; come, be thankful; those who take our Mistresses from us, improve our Parts; first we love as Learners, but afterwards like Masters.  Ra. 
Hark you, Sir Topewell, let me give you some Counsel which several men in your station should follow; Allow some needy man of Sense a Genteel maintenance to give your Young Squire good Education by degrees. Let him read good books moderately, but chiefly the great book of the world, not to be found with Pedants. It costs so little more to breed a man like a Gentleman, than it does to breed others like Clowns, that I wonder there are so many of the latter with good Paternal Estates.  

Good Education must our Youth improve,  
And fit a man for Business and for Love.  
Wealth may be lost, but never what we gain  
By reading Books, and most by reading Men.  
Thus we grow wise, and raise and use our store;  
While Fops and Squires, amidst their Wealth, are poor.    
FINIS.