THE Innocent Mistress.  
A COMEDY.  
As it was ACTED, by His MAJESTY's Servants AT THE THEATRE in Little-Lincolns-Inn-Fields.  
Written by Mrs. Marry Pix.  
LONDON, Printed by J. Orme, for R. Basset, at the Mitre within Temple-Bar, and F. Cogan in the Inner-Templelane. 1697.   


Names Represented.  Mr. Betterton. 
Sir Charles Beauclair, first a Younger Brother, married by his Friends, to a Rich ill-favoured Widow, afterwards Master of a great Estate, and in Love with Bellinda.  Mr. Verbruggen. 
Sir Francis Wildlove, his Friend.  Mr. Knap. 
Searchwell his Man.  Mr. Hodgson. 
Beaumond an honest Country Gentleman, Friend to Sir Francis: and Lover of Arabella.  Mr. Bowman. 
Spendall a Sharper; and hanger on to Sir Charles.  Mr. Freeman. 
Lywell, a Rake, Companion to Spendal.  Mr. Bowen 
Cheatall, a very foolish Fellow; Brother to the Lady Beauclair.  Mr. Harris. 
Gentil, his Man; an Ingenious Fellow.  Mr. Underhill. 
Mr. Flywife, alias Allen, a Merchant.   

WOMEN.  Mrs. Barry. 
Bellinda, alias Mariam, Daughter to the Lord Belmour.  Mrs. Bracegird. 
Mrs. Beauclair, Niece to Sir Charles.  Mrs. Prince. 
Arabella, a young Lady, left to the Care of Cheatall's Father.  Mrs. Lee. 
Lady Beauclair, an ill bred Woman.  Mrs. Howard. 
Peggy, her Daughter, of the same Stamp.  Mrs. Lawson. 
Eugenia, the Lady Beauclair's Woman.  Mrs. 
Betty, Woman to Bellinda.  Mrs. Du Qua. 
Dresswell, Woman to Mrs. Beauclair.  Mrs. Lassel. 
Mrs. Flywife, kept by Flywife, and going by his Name.  Mrs. Willis. 
Jenny, her Maid.  
Drawers and Servants.    

PROLOGUE:  Spoken by Mr. Verbruggen, Written by Mr. Motteux. 

THIS season with what Arts both Houses strive,  
By your kind presence, to be kept alive!  
W' have still new things, or old ones we revive;  
We plot, and strive to bring them first o'th' Stage,  
Like wary Pilot for his Weather-gage.  
W' have Every Act, and every week a Play;  
Nay, w' have had new ones studied for one Day;  
W' have double Duty, and w' have but half Pay.  
W ' have scaling Monkeys, and w' have dancing Swans,  
To match our nimble capering Chairs and Stands:  
There Operas with, and here without Machine's:  
Here, Scenes well wrought, and there, well painted Scenes;  
Castles and Men i'th' Air, the World i'th' Moon,  
Where you, like Swallows fly, but soon you're gone.  
W've something every different Taste to hit,  
I gad, I think, w' have every thing but Wit;  
For w' have full Scenes, and w' have an empty Pitt.  
Faith, Sirs, we scarce could hope, you here would be  
So numerous, tho' we have a new Comedy.  
For there's in Plays, you know, a Reformation  
(A thing to which y' have no great inclination)  
I fear you'll seek some loser Occupation.  
From those Lewd Poets all these mischiefs flow;  
They, like Drawcansirs, mauled both Friend and Foe.  
Would they'd been served like their Plays long ago!  
All cautious Dons and Matrons hence they scared,  
And all this did they do, because they dared.  
Yet, that you're hardened Sinners they may boast,  
The more they lashed you, you seemed tickled most.  
But now no Luscious Scenes must lard their Plays:  
No Lady now will need to hide her face;  
But I'll be hanged if one i'th' Gallery stays.  
To hear ill-natured Truths no more you'll sit,  
But mortify an inoffensive Wit;  
Lord! how still we shall have you in the Pit!  
For I dare say, of what most pleased our Guests,  
Nine parts in Ten were still sheer Bawdy Jests.  
Methinks I see some here who seem to say  
Gad, ere the Curtain's drawn I'll slip away;  
No Bawdy, this can't be a Women's Play.  
Nay, I confess there's Cause enough to doubt,  
But, Faith, they say there was a deal cut out,  
Then stay and use it gently, some of you,  
Since to be maimed you're somewhat subject too.  
Spare it, you who for harmless sports declare,  
Show that this age a modest Play can bear.  
Twice has our Poetess kind usage found;  
Change not her Fortune, tho' she canged her Ground,    

EPILOGUE:  Spoken by Mr. Scudamore, Written by Mr. Motteux. 

SSriblers, like Bullies, sometimes huff the Pitt,  
Tho their feigned Courage has an Ague Fit;  
But oftener, from a sense of their Condition,  
An Epilogue resembles a Petition.  
Thus they make Mr. Bays his Notion just;  
If Thunder cannot save them, Halters must.  
Which way to use, I swear, I do not know;  
Hussings too haughty, Cringing is too low.  
I'll use the middle way; perhaps 'twill do,  
At least, I fancy, 'tis most liked by you.  
Thus then to every Judge of Wit I bow;  
(I hope all the Audience think I mean them now).  
If so, you'll scorn to judge of Woman's Wit;  
Tho' in Wit's Court the worst of Judges sit,  
Sure none dare try such puny Causes yet.  
Faith, if you're strict, now there's a Reformation,  
We've sworn t'invite the grave part of the Nation;  
Rich Sparks with broad-brim-hats and little Bands,  
Who'll clap dry Morals till they hurt their Hands;  
Nice Dames? who'll have their Box as they've their Pew,  
And come each Day, but not to ogle you:  
No, each side Box shall shine with sweeter Faces;  
None but Chains, Gowns and Coifs shall havetheir Places,  
Their Chit-chat News, Stockjobbing, and Law-Causes.  
The Middle-Fry shall in the Gallery sit,  
And humh whatever against Cuckold's Writ.  
And City Wives from Lectures throng the Pit:  
Their Daughters Fair with Prentice trudge it hither,  
And throng as they do Lambeth-Wells this weather.  
Then all thus stored, tho' Money's scarce this Age,  
We need not fear t' have a Beau-crowded Stage.  
So, for new guests we'll change, just as our Beaux  
Wear Doyly-Stuff, for want of better clothes.    


ACT I.  Sir Francis Wildlove in his Chamber Dressing. Sir Fran. 
SEarchwell!  Search. 
— Sir.  Sir Fran. 
Get me some Small Beer, and dash a little Langoone in it; else 'twill go down my burning Stomach ten degrees colder than Ice: I should have met my old Friend and Collegian Beaumond, who came to Town last night, but Wine and Women drove it clear out of my Head.  Search. 
Sir, he's here.  Enter Beaumond. Sir Fran. 
Welcome dear Friend, I prithee pardon my omission, faith 'twas business that could not be left to other hands.  Beau. 
Women I suppose, and that excuse I know a Man of your kidney thinks almighty.  Sir Fran. 
Even so well by my Life, I am heartily glad to see you, why thou hast been an age consigned to barren Fields and senseless Groves, or Conversation stupid and dull as they: How canst thou waste thy Youth, happy Youth, the very Quintessence of Life from London, this dear Epitome of pleasure?  Beau. 
Because excess of drinking cloys my Stomach, and Impudence in Women absolutely turns it; then I hate the vanity of Dress and Fluttering, where eternal Noise and Nonsense reigns; this considered, what should I do here?  Sir Fran. 
Not much in troth.  Beau. 
But you, my Friend, run the Career your appetite directs, taste all those pleasures I despise, you can inform me what humour's most in fashion, what ruling whim, and how the Ladies are.  Sir Fran. 
Why faith there's no great alteration, the Money is indeed very much scarcer, yet what perhaps you'll think a wonder, dressing and debauchery increases; as for the Damosels, three sorts make a Bushel, and will be uppermost: First, there's your common Jilts will oblige every body.  Beau. 
These are Monsters sure.  Sir Fran. 
You may call 'em what you please, but they are very plentiful, I promise you: The next is your kept Mistress, she's a degree modester, if not kind to each, appears in her dress like Quality, whilst her ogling eyes, and too frequent Debauches discovers her the younger Sister only to the first.  Beau. 
This I should hate for Ingratitude.  Sir Fran. 
The third is, not a Whore, but a brisk airy, noisy Coquette, that lives upon treating, one Spark has her to the Play, another to the Park, a third to Windsor, a fourth to some other place of Diversion; She has not the heart to grant 'em all favours, for that's their design at the bottom of the Treats, and they have not the heart to marry her, for that's her design too Poor Creature. So perhaps a year, or it may be two, the gaudy Butterfly slutters round the Kingdom, then if a foolish Citt does not take compassion, sneaks into a Corner, dies an Old Maid, despised and forgotten. The Men that sit those Ladies are your Rake, your Cully, and your Beaux.  Beau. 
I hope Sir Fra. Wildlove has more honour than to find a Mistress amongst such Creatures.  Sir Fran. 
Gad honest honourable Ned, I must own I have a fling at all, sometimes I think it worth my while to make a Keeper Jealous, frequently treat the Coquette, till either she grows upon me, or I grow weary of her; then 'tis but saying a rude thing, she quarrels, I fly to the next Bottle, and there for ever drown her remembrance.  Beau. 
'Tis pity that the most noblest Seeds of Nature are most prone to Vice.  Sir Fran. 
Such another grave Speech would give me a sit of the Colic.  Beau. 
Well I find 'tis in vain to tell you my Story, without I have a desire to be swingly laughed at.  Sir Fran. 
Nay, Nay, why so, I'd sacrifice my life to serve my friend.  Beau. 
To confess the truth, I'm in Love.  Sir Fran. 
Is that such a wonder why I have been so a thousand times? old boy.  Beau. 
Ay, but desperately, virtuously!  Sir Fran. 
There the Case differs, I doubt friend you have applied yourself to a wrong Man.  Beau. 
Are not you acquainted with Sir Charles Beauclair?  Sir Fran. 
Yes, intimately.  Beau. 
Then, in short, his Lady and a Booby Brother of hers have got my Mistress in their power; she was the Daughter of àn Eminent Merchant, one Sir George Venturewell, who dying left her to the care of my Lady Beauclair's Father; he proved like most Guardians, a great Knave, forged a Will, which gave my Arabella nothing, unless she married this two-legged thing his Son; some of her friends contested with 'em, but the Lawyer's roguery, through the Guardians wealth prevailed, and she is again in their possession; the old Fellow is dead, but the Sister and Brother pretend to manage her.  Sir Fran. 
Your case is desperate, and I fear Sir Charles can do you but little service in't.  Beau. 
Why, he lives with his Wife.  Sir Fran. 
Yes, modestly, he knows nothing of her concerns, and desires she should know nothing of his: did you never hear of her Character?  Beau. 
No.  Sir Fran. 
She is certainly the most disagreeable of the whole Sex, has neither Sense, Beauty or good Manners; then her humour is so implacable, the hunted her first Husband into the Indies, where he died, Heaven knows when or how.  Beau. 
What the Devil made Sir Charles Marry her?  Sir Fr. 
Even that tempting Devil Interest, she was vastly Rich, he a younger Brother, since the Estate and Title of his Family is fallen to him, and I dare swear he'd willingly give a Leg or an Arm to be freed from the intolerable Plague of a Wife, whom no Mortal can please.  Enter Servant. Seru. 
Sir Charles Beauclair is coming to wait upon your Honour.  Sir Fran. 
I am glad on't, I fancy there's a sympathy in your humours, that will soon excite a friendship, for he notwithstanding the provocation of an ugly Scolding Wife at home, and the Temptation of a good Estate, and a handsome Fellow into the bargain, instead of making his life easy with jolly Bona-robars, dotes on a Platonic Mistress, who never allows him greater favours then to read Plays to her, kiss her hand, and fetch Heart-breaking Sighs at her Feet; with her he has obliged his charming Niece to be, almost always; Faith nothing but the horrible fear of Matrimony before my eyes keeps me from loving Mrs. Beauclair, she is pretty without affectation, has but just pride enough to become her, and gravity enough to secure her from Scandal: to all this add twelve thousand Pounds in ready Money.  Enter Sir Charles Beauclair and Mr. Spendal. Sir Charl. 
And is not that last the most prevailing Argument, ha, Frank?  Sir Fran. 
No, Sir Charles, Chains of Gold won't tempt my freedom from me, but here's a Gentleman, sixt in the dull matrimonial road, uneasy if he meets with interruption, though it throws him on the flowery fields of liberty, he's my particular friend, and labours under the pangs of disappointed Love, 'tis in your power to assist him in his delivery; I know you are compassionate in these cases.  Sir Char. 
You may promise for me to the utmost, I am ready.  Beau. 
Fame reports you a true English Gentleman.  Sir Char. 
You may Command me, Sir.  Spendal aside to Sir Charles 
Dear Sir Charles, lend me one Guinea more, the Estate's Entailed, my Father will die, and I shall get an Heiress.  Sir Char. 
Here take it, and leave lying:  Spend. 
I'll be with you again at Dinner.  Sir Char. 
I don't question it.  [Exit Spendal. Sir Fran. 
Searchwell, has there been no Letters for me, this Morning?  Searchw. 
No, Sir.  Sir Fran. 
Stay you at home, and if there come one, find me out with it.  Searchw. 
I will Sir.  Sir Fran. 
Come Sir Charles, shall we to the Chocolate-house, there you shall here Mr. Beaumont's Story.  Sir Char. 
With all my heart; hark you Sir Francis, I have an Entertainment of excellent Music promised me this afternoon, you know I cannot have it at home, so I have borrowed some Apartments of obliging Mrs. Bantum, the Indian Woman, and will try to prevail with the Ladies to come.  Sir Fran. 
Dear Sir Charles Introduce me.  Sir Char. 
You'll think your hours thrown away in the Company of civil Women.  Sir Fran. 
Faith I scarce dare trust your Neices eyes, they gain too much upon my heart. I am always forced, after I have seen her, to have recourse to the Glass, to secure myself from Romantic Constancy.  Beau. 
Now you talk of Romances, Introth I think I'm a perfect Knight Errand, for besides my own Lady, I'm in quest of another fair Fugitive, by the desire of her Father: Have you not heard of the Death of my Lord Belmour's Heir, and absence of his only Daughter Mariam?  Sir Fran. 
Yes, yes.  Beau. 
The old Lord has given me her Picture, with an earnest Petition, that I would endeavour to find her; he pressed me so, I could not refuse it, though I have small probability of my side.  Sir Fran. 
She's now a prodigious Heiress, what could be the meaning of running from all her Friends.  Beau. 
Too Studious for her Sex, and sell upon the Seducers of the Women, Plays, and Romances, from thence she formed herself a Hero, a Cavalier, that could Love and talk like them; whilst her Father without consulting her, provided a Husband, Rich, but wanting all Scudries Accomplishments, this Man she called Monster, and finding the Marriage unavoidable, took her Jewels and what Money was in her Power, and in the Stage-Coach fled to this Populous Wilderness, if that can be proper, for here we are in Crowds concealed, as well as in a Desert.  Sir Fran. 
'Twas strange.  Sir Char. 
I pity her, for I hate an Innocent inclination crossed.  Enter Servant. Seru. 
Sir, your Coach is ready.  Sir Fran. 
Allons Gentlemen.  [Exeunt. Scene Bellinda's Apartment, appears with a Böok. Bell. 
In vain I fly to Books, the tuneful Numbers give me not a moment's ease: In vain I've strove to walk in Virtues high, unerring Paths; blind, rash inconsiderate Love, has pushed me from the blissful state, and sixt me struggling 'midst ten thousand dangers: Here sweet Bard, thou suits me well;  Enter Mrs. Beave. [Opening the Book. 
My anxious hours roll heavily away;  
Deprived of Sleep by Night or Peace by Day.  Mrs. Beau. 
Poor disconsolate Damosel, come leave this soft melancholy Poetry, it nurses your Disease.  Bell. 
You indeed, like a bright Ray of comfort, shoot through my endlessnight; where's my dear destruction?  Mrs. Beau. 
Mr Spendall said he would be here at noon.  Bell. 
He's ever here, I feel himbusie at my Heart, and when the wished minute of his approach comes on, every Artery catches the Convulsive Joy: Dost not thou think me mad?  Mrs. Beau. 
A little crazed or so, my dear.  Bell. 
Bedlam, o'er this, had been my proper mansion if your sweet Company had not composed my jarring thoughts, and given the warring Torments Intervals of rest.  Mrs. Beau. 
I must confess, though I am wild to the very verge that Innocence allows, yet when my Uncle, that dear good man, told me, if e'er I meant to oblige him I must be a Companion, Friend, and Lover of his Mistress. The proposition startled me, but then I did not think there had been such a Mistress as my Bellinda, nor Platonic Love in real practice.  Bell. 
True, my dear Friend, our Love is to the Modern Age, unpractised and unknown; yet so strict and so severe, are rigid Honour's Laws, that tho' not grossly, yet we still offend: had not Fate fixed a bar unpassable between us, how should I'have blessed the accident that brought us first acquainted.  Mrs. Beau. 
You never told me the Story.  Bell. 
In short, 'twas thus; coming from the Play, masked with a Young Lady, a fluttering Fellow seized me, and spite of my entreaties grew rudely troublesome; I was never used to such Behaviour, and it throughly frighted me; Sir Charles being near, saw my unfeigned concern, and generously made the Brute desist, than led me safely to a Coach, observing where I bid the Coachman drive, he came to wait upon me, my fair Friend again was with me and 'twas by her persuasions that I saw him: we found his conversation nicely civil and full of Innocent delight, I blushed, and fondly thought this man my Amorous Stars in kindness destined for my happiness, but oh!—  Mrs. Beau. 
But Oh, he was married, and that spoiled all.  Bell. 
Therein I only can accuse him of deceit: He kept his marriage a satal Secret till I had lost the power to banish him.  Mrs. Beau. 
I prithee dear Bedinda where were't thou bred; I'm sure this Lewd Town never gave you such nice notions of honour.  Bell. 
My Friendship bars you of nothing but enquiring who I am.  Mrs. Beau. 
'Tis true I beg your Pardon and am silent.  Bell. 
Only this I'll tell you, Madam, and as a warning never resolve, although you think it fully in your power, to keep your resolution. Mark it in me, I that thought to have stood the fairest pattern of my Sex; and would have blotted all the annals of guilty Love, yet now am lost fonder of my Beauclair than of Family or Fame, yet know him married, and Divine and humane Laws against me.  Mrs. Beau. 
For Humane Laws, I know not what to say, but sure Heaven had no concern, 'twas a detested match. Ruling Friends and Cursed A arice joined this unthinking youth to the worst of Women: But no more of this how die like your new Lodgings? The House is very large, have you no good Neighbours?  Bell. 
You know 'tis not my way to be acquainted; my impertinet maid sometimes teases me with a relation of a Merchant and pretty Lady; who came from the Indies and Lodge here.  Mrs. Beau. 
What are they, Mrs. Betty?  Bett. 
Nay, my Lady will ne'er hear me out; but I'm sure they are worth any Body's observation, he looks like a Surly, Old, Rich Cuff, and she like an Intriguing Beautiful Jilt, as sine as a Queen covered with Jewels.  Bell. 
Ha' done with your Description, I'm sick of 'em both.  Mrs. Beau. 
Lord, you are so peevish, pray give me leave to ask Mrs Betty little more Questions about 'em, what's his name?  Bett. 
An odd one Madam, they call him Mr. Flywife.  Mrs. Beau. 
An odd one indeed, and contradicting his Actions when 〈◊〉 a fine Dame belongs to him.  Bell. 
Thou art a little Gossip to trouble thy head with other people's Affairs; I heard news of yoh, Madam, the other day, they say you are in Love, for all your seeming indifference.  Mrs. Beau. 
Yes, introth I am a little that way inclined; but my Spark is indeed too far from your Cassandra rules, his Mistresses are neither Angels nor Goddesses; truly Sir Francis Wildlove is too mad even for me; tho' the Devil's in't, I can't forbear thinking of the Rambler.  Bell. 
Your Virtue and Beauty may reclaim him.  Mrs. Beau. 
It may be so; but I doubt he don't like Reforming Enter Sir so well as to try it. Ha, see who appears comely as rising day Charles. amidst ten thousand eminently known Bellinda this Heroic is designed for you, tho' somewhat barren of Invention, I was forced to borrow it.  Bell. 
Cheerful, and thy mind at ease, happy Girl.  Sir Charles 
(taking Bell's hand) My Blessing.  Beil. 
My Fate, which I should, but cannot curse.  Sir Char. 
Cousin I'm glad to find you here, you shall help persuade Bellinda to go abroad; I have promised to bring you both to Mrs. Bantums, I have provided a trifle of a Dinner, and Excellent Music for digestion; there's only a Country Gentleman and Sir Francis, I know you love Sir Francis Niece.  Bell. 
You may be mistaken Sir; grant I did, would you have me meet him? dear Uncle, don't make me so ridiculous.  Sir Char. 
I thought Niece you durst have trusted me with your Conduct, my Friends are no Brainless Beaux, no Lady Libelers, that extend innocent Favours, and bespatter the Reputations they cannot ruin.  Mrs. Beau. 
Then you think your Friend Sir Francis a very modest man.  Sir Char. 
No, my Dear, but your mildest men, if they have sense, as I am sure he has, know how to treat Women of Honour.  Mrs. Beau. 
Nay, I'm soon convinced, what say you, Madam?  Bell. 
I will go; for perhaps, Sir Charles, you think I've only invented Fears of being known, but you'll surely find, if any Accident discovers me, I shall be seen by you no more.  Sir Char. 
See thee no more! yes, I would see thee, tho' barred by foreign or domestic Foes; set on thy side Father or Husband, on mine Wife and Children, I'd rush through all Nature's Ties to gaze on thee, to satisfy the longings of my Soul, and please my fond desiring Eyes.  Bell. 
Chide him Beauclair, let him not talk thus.  Mrs. Beau. 
Before he came you were at it; what can I say to two mad Folks?  Enter Spendall. Spend. 
Your Servant Ladies. Sir Charles, is it not Dinnertime? I am as hungry as a—  Mrs. Beau. 
Horse, I know the old expression; were I my Uncle, I'd as soon build an Hospital for the lazy, as undertake to satisfy thy voracious Appetite.  Sir Char. 
How hast thou of late disobliged my Niece, that she is so severe upon thee?  Spend. 
Only told her Ladyship a Truth she could not bear.  Mrs. Beau. 
A Truth from thee, I rather think I could not hear it.  Spend. 
I said, a she Wit was as great a Wonder as a Blazing-star, and as certainly foretold the World's turning upside down; yet 'spight of that the Lady will write.  Mrs. Beau. 
Brute! what did I ever write, unless it was thy Character, and that was so adroit, you had like to hanged yourself?  Sir Char. 
For my sake, Cousin, for bear.  Mrs. Beau. 
Let him take pet and not come to Dinner to day, if he thinks fit, 'tis not I that care.  Spend. 
No, I will come.  Mrs. Beau. 
That I would have sworn.  Spend. 
To give occasion, that you may draw this shining weapon Wit; it will dazzle the Assembly; if it pierces only me, no matter.  Mrs. Beau. 
Stuff, pshaw, will you come, Madam, and put on your things?  [Exeunt Ladies. Sir Char. 
Dear Spendall, I must beg of you to step to our House, I made my Wife a kind of Promise to dine with her to day.  Spend. 
What shall I say?  Sir Char. 
Say I am gone to Court, she loves the Thoughts of being great, tho' most unfit for't.  Spend. 
But you know you promised to carry her Daughter Miss Peggy with you next time you went thither.  Sir Char. 
True; say I'm gone to the Tower: I'm called, say any thing the Devil puts into your Head.  
Bellinda within, Are you ready?  [Exeunt Sir Charles. Spend. 
Yes, I shall say what the Devil puts into my Head, but not what you expect: Am I not then ungrateful? Has he not for several months fed, clothed and supported me? But what for, to be a mere Letter-carrier, an honourable Pimp for Platonic Love? He shall find I can employ my Parts better; he trusts me for his pleasure, and I'll betray him for mine.  Enter Lady Lyewell. 
Ha, Lyewell! why come you hither?  Lyew. 
Phough, I saw Sir Charles and the Ladies go out: besides, I want Money; I did not serve you so, when I was in my Lord Worthies Family.  Spend. 
Prithee don't be so surly, here's a Crown for thee, but I expect some Service for't: Is there ever a Strumpet in your Catalogue so well bred as to write?  Lyew. 
All the Whores in Town can scrawl if that will do.  Spend. 
Let one of 'em send immediately a nameless Letter to my Lady Beauclair, and inform her, That Sir Charles will be to day at Mrs. Bantums with a Whore, between three and four, by that hour, lest she come too soon and disturb our Dinner. Well, the Heiress is coming, I shall make thee amends.  Lyew. 
Ay, when you marry Mrs. Beauclair.  Spend. 
Hang her; I hinted Love but once, and she has abused me ever since. I have no luck with the Wits, now I have better Chase in view, a wealthy Fool, a Fool the Perquisite of a Sharper. Come with me, and I'll instruct you further.  [Exeunt. Enter Mrs. Flywife and Jenny. Mrs. Flyw. 
O how happy am I, to breathe again my native London Air! I vow the Smoke of this dear Town delights me more than all the Indian Groves: happy too in meeting with one like thee; thou understand'st Intrigues, art cunning, subtle, as all our Sex ought to be, who deal with those deluders Men.  Jenn. 
Then your Ladyship liked not the Indies.  Mrs. Flyw. 
How was't possible I should? Our Beaux was the Refuse of N●…gate, and our Merchants the Offspring of foolish plodding Cits.  Jenn. 
Why went you, Madam?  Mrs. Flyw. 
So great is my Opinion of your Faith, I dare trust you with all my past life: My Friends bred me at a Boarding-school, and died when I was but fourteen, leaving me nothing for my Portion but Pride and a few tawdry Clothes; I was a forward Girl, and bartering what I had not the Wit to prize, a never to be recovered Fame was soon maintained in Finery, Idleness, and darling Pleasure, but the deceitful Town grew weary of me sooner than I expected, and I sick of that, seeing-other new Faces preferred before me; so picking up some Moneys, and a handsome Garb, I ventured to Jamaica.  Jenn. 
Madam, I hear my Master unlock his Study.  Mrs. Flyw. 
Oh Heavens! and this foolish Story put Sir Francis Wildlove's Letter quite out of my Mind. Have you writ as I directed?  Jenn. 
Yes, Madam.  Mrs. Flyw. 
Give me the Letter and be gone, I would not have him think us great.  [Exit Jenny. Enter Mr. Flywife. [As Mrs. Flywife goes to put up the Letter hastily, drops it. 
Come Fubby, will you go into the Dining-room the Chocolate is ready.  Mr. Flyw. 
And you, methinks, are ready too, Madam; beyond Sea 'twas a courted Favour, dressed seldom, and careless; but since arrived at this damned Town, no cost, nor pains is spared; Curse upon my doting Folly, that listened to your Prayers, and despite of my Oath and strong Aversion, brought you back to the high road of Hell.  Mrs. Flyw. 
Is then my tried Constancy suspected? Did I for this deny the richest Planters of the place, who courted me in an honest lawful way, and would have parted with their Wealth, dearer than their Souls, to have called me Wise, whilst I, slighting all their Offers, gave up my unsullied Bloom to you, only on your protested Love leaving Jamaica, fled with you to a remoter World, because you said your Circumstance was such, that if you lived with me, your English Friends must believe you dead.  Mr. Flyw. 
Well, and what was my Return to all this boasted kindness? You may remember, Madam, your Cargo was sunk so low, 'twould scarce afford at the next Ships approach another London Topping; when I without a hated Lock for Life poured on ye more Riches than all your Husband-pretenders joined together could aim at, gave you such a separate Fortune, that indeed I was forced to obey your Desires in coming into England, lest you should do't without my Leave.  Mrs. Flyw. 
Well, well, thou art a good Boy, prithee no more wrangling Fubby; I vow and swear to morrow I'll be as great a Slattern as ever was, if that will please you, so I will.  Mr. Flyw. 
Ay, and want to go out to day, for all the gazing Fops to admire, tho' I have told you, I can't appear till I have enquired into my affairs, then to morrow, if you stay at home with me, Sackcloth will serve turn.  Mrs. Flyw. 
Lord, you are so froppish, if I was your Wife, sure Fubby, you would not be so jealous.  Mr. Flyw. 
My Wife quotha! no, no, I was once bewitched, but I found such a Plague, that— No more Wives, I say.  Mrs. Flyw. 
Well, I'll be any thing to please Fubby; Will you go in? Our Breakfast will be cold.  [Exit Mrs. Flyw. Mr. Flyw. 
(taketh up the Letter) I'll follow you.  
Ha! what's here? a Sonnet, I'll warrant; her gaping abroad has brought this: A Letter of her own, only the Hand is scrawled to disguise it. (reads) If I were convinced your Passion was real, perhaps you might have no cause to complain: (fine advancing Devil) be constant and discreet, you ll find none of our Sex ungrateful. By thy burning Lust that's a damned Lie, for thou art thyself a most ungrateful Jilt: I'll catch her now, ere the Devil can be at her Elbow to invent a Lie, and if one wheedling Tongue does not destroy all my Senses, she shall feel my Rage.  Enter Servant. Seru. 
Sir, the Captain comes to bring you News your Ship is safe in the River.  Mr. Flyw. 
Be damned, there let it sink.  Seru. 
Shall I tell him so, Sir?  [Exit Seru. Mr. Flyw. 
Jackanapes, I'll come to him. Is it impossible in Nature to be happy with or without a Woman? If they are virtuous they are peevish, ill-natured, proud and coy;  
If fair and complaisant, they please as well:  
For then, by Heaven, they are as false as Hell.  
The End of the First ACT.   

ACT II.  Enter Mrs. Flywife and Jenny. Mrs. Flyw. 
HA, ha, ha! I can't forbear laughing at your great concern. Jenn. O madam, if you did but see what a passion my master was in, you would not be so merry; he was like to beat the Sea Captain, tho' he brought him the good news of his Ships arrival.  Mrs. Flyw. 
Pho, mind what I say, and fear not; I warrant you shall have the Letter again, and liberty to find Sir Francis Wildlove with it.  Jenn. 
Madam, he comes.  Mrs. Flyw. 
Well, well, be sure you do it handsomely.  (Sings. 
Never, never let her be your Wife.  
That was loud that he might think me merry; speak hussy.  Enter Flywife. Jenn. 
(crying) Pray, madam, search again; I have been a month of writing on't, and took it out of a Book too; the man has sent me forty, before I could make shift to answer one till now: Oh! oh!  Mrs. Flyw. 
Prithee don't tease me, I dropped it, 'tis gone, I'll write another for you, since you say the man is for a Husband, and can so well maintain you; be quiet.  Mr. Flyw. 
What's this? faith not improbable, 'tis not my Damosels hand, now I have considered on't again.  (Aside. Jenn. 
I had rather have lost my best Petticoat by half.  Mrs. Flyw. 
Cease your noise, or leave the Room.  Mr. Flyw. 
What's the matter? having no occasion for a Quarrel, will be Money in my Pocket, I am sure.  (Aside. Mrs. Flyw. 
Why Fubby, this foolish Wench, it seems, has a Country Lover, and begged of me to direct a Letter to him, which in troth I have lost, so she howls, that's all, Fubby.  Mr. Flyw. 
And I have found it: Come Jenny, to make amends for your Sorrow, I'll write the Superscription; Whither is it to go?  Jen. 
(aside to her Mistress) Madam, Madam.  Mrs. Flyw. 
O, I think I remember;— to Jeoffrey Scatterlove, at the Bull-Inn in Cambridge: so seal it and carry it, for these silly Girls never think it safe, unless they give it into the Posthouse themselves, but make haste.  Jen. 
Have I got thee again, my dear sweet Letter?  (kissing it. Mrs. Flyw. 
A very raw foolish Girl this, my Dear.  Mr. Flyw. 
Faith Puggy, there had like to have been a Quarrel; I was almost afraid that Letter was a piece of Gallantry of yours.  Mrs. Flyw. 
Ay, ay, you are always suspecting me, when Heaven knows I am such a poor constant Fool, I never so much as dream of any man but my own dear Fubby: Fubby, let I go.  Mr. Flyw. 
No, no, I'll run away, I won't hear you, I won't hear you.  (Exit. Mrs. Flyw. 
Then I ll follow, and I am sure prevail. Oh, had my Sex but half my Cunning, the deceivers would find themselves deceived; from my Gallants I never found, but gave 'em killing Charms.  
Fools! when we love, our Liberties we lose;  
But when beloved, with ease we pick and choose.  (Exit. Enter Lady Beauclair and Cheatall. La. Beauc. 
Brother, I say you're a Fool.  Cheat. 
Fool in your Face.—— I'm no more a fool than yourself.— What would you have a man do?— Must I ravish her? Don't I know Accessories have been hanged! and here you'd have me Principal! what, I understand Law,— I won't hang for your pleasure.  La. Beauc. 
Yes, you understand Law— D'ye understand parting with a good Estate, which you must do if you han't this Arabella? Don't tell me of Ne— Ne— Necessaries, I say you shall marry her.  Cheat. 
Ay, but the Craft will be in catching, as the Saying is: why, I went but e'en now to take her by the Lily-white Hand, as the Poet has it, and she threw a whole dish of scalding-hot Tea full in my Face, Dish and all Cousin Peggy saw her; she called her all the names in Christendom; she'll tell ye the same.  La. Beauc. 
Ah poor Peggy! ay, she don't 'ove to see you abused;— were that Minks like Peggy, you were but too happy. Well— when will you give Peggy that Diamond Necklace? The Sparks are almost mad for her,— she has the Lord knows how many Sweethearts; there's Squire— what d'ye call him?  Cheat. 
(aside) So, now she's got upon her Daughter's Sweethearts— she'll ne'er ha' done.  La. Beauc. 
There's Sir John Empty, and Mr. Flutter, and Capt. Noisy, say the finest things to her, but the Wench is so coy, and my Rogue of a Husband will let none of 'em come home to her, but calls 'em Fops, and Boars, and the Lord knows what.  Cheat. 
O Lord, Boars! Beaux you mean.— O Lord, Boars!  La. Beauc. 
Well, she has of all sorts,— and if there be twenty Women in company, all the rout is made about her; and the Girl doth so blush— I vow and swear it makes her look woundy handsome.  Cheat. 
Ay, you called me fool, but I'll be hanged if ye daned make a fool of her, mark the end on't; marry her to some honest Tradesman, that's fittest for her.  La. Beauc. 
Pray done't you trouble your musty Pate about her: No, she scorns a Citizen, she would not have my Lord Mayor's Son; she's a Girl of discretion: I was married young too, and I looked after all my first Husband's Affairs.  Cheat. 
(aside) True, till he went the Lord knows whither to be quiet.  La. Beauc. 
Indeed this young fellow is not worthy the Name of a Husband; I have a good mind to let the World know what a deceitful piece 'tis.  Enter Mrs. Peggy, eating Plumb-cake. Peg. 
Mother! mother!  La. Beauc. 
What's the matter Child?  Peg. 
Here's Mrs. Arabella does nothing but jeer and abuse me; she says eating between meals will spoil my Shape, and I snatched a Book out of her hand, and she said a primer was sitter for me.  La. Beauc. 
I'll never endure this, how dare she affront my Daughter?  Cheat 
So, I'm like to have a fine life, nothing but scolding and noise; for my part, I'd rather not marry at all: if she is thus randy beforehand what will she be afterwards? In a short time I shall be made Ballads on, and my Picture set before 'em just like the Summons to Horn-sair.  La. Beauc. 
Yes, yes, you shall marry her; and we'll tame her too, I'll warrant you.  Peg. 
Here she comes, here she comes, as mad as a Turkeycock.  Enter Mrs. Arabella. Arab. 
Why am I used thus? Your Servants are forbid to call me either Coach or Chair; Are you my Jailor? You, Oaf, I speak to.  Cheat. 
Mistress, 'twould be better for you if you had other words in your mouth, I'll tell you that.  Peg. 
You shan't gallop your—  La. Beauc. 
Hold Peggy, let me speak— What's the reason, Mrs. Arabella, you take this Privilege here?— You know your Fortune is at our dispose, so shall your Person be, else you must expect nothing.  Arab. 
Had I but heard your Characters, I'd sooner have been exposed a Beggar in this inhospitable World, than e'er set my Feet within your Doors.  La Beauc. 
I'd have you to know our Corecters are honest Corecters; I wish yours prove so.  Cheat. 
Don't provoke me, I say, don't.  Arab. 
Why? you won't beat me,— I hear there is a sensible Man amongst ye, I'll appeal to him, if you'd let me see him.  La. Beauc. 
That's my Husband you mean;— No, you shan't see him, nor such as you are, if I can help it.  Peg. 
What I would you see my Vather-in-law, to tell Lies and Stories to him? No, no, don't mistake yourself.  Arab. 
Away, you smell of Aqua Mirabilis.  La. Beauc. 
Oh Impudence! She smell of strong Waters! She hates it.— Come hither Peggy, let me smell, thy Breath used to be as sweet as any Cows.  Peg. 
(aside) What shall I do? I've been at my Mother's Bottle; I won't come to satisfy her nor you neither. What ails ye,— d'ye know?  Arab. 
No, don't, Miss.— Well, since I must have neither Attendance nor Conveniency, I'll go afoot.  (is going. Cheat. 
Hold ye, hold ye, you are not gone yet, as the Saying is.  (Takes her by the Arm. Arab. 
Was ever Usage like this?  La. Beauc. 
Your Usage has been but too good, let me tell you that; I'll show you such Usage as you deserve. Hug— Uggun,— what a Devil is your Name? I hate a Wench with a hard Name.  (Enter Eugenia.) 
Here, lock up Mrs. Flippant in the dark Room.  Peg. 
(jumping about) Ay, lock her up, lock her up, I say.  Cheat. 
(grinning in her Face) Yet, Mrs. Bella, be ruled by me,— give me one sweet look, and let me take a Honey Kiss, and you shan't be locked up;— No, you shan't be locked up,— but go abroad with me, and have your Bellyful of Cakes and Custards.— Shall I?— Shall I?  Arab. 
There's the Kiss; and for a Look, I wish my Eyes were Basilisks.  (striketh him. Peg. 
O Lord, Mother, how she swears!  Cheat. 
Oh my Chops, my Chops! lock her up; hang her, she's a Fury.  La. Beauc. 
Abominable! come hither, hath she hurt ye?  Arab. 
Oh Eugenia! last night, when you heard my Story, you, in gentle pity, wept;— Assist me now, or I'm lost.  Eugen. 
Have Patience, Madam, and believe me yours.  La. Beauc. 
(aside to her Brother) I say, keep the Key yourself, I don't like her greatness with the Maid.  Cheat. 
'Tis locking up, I fear 'tis against Law, Sister.  La. Beauc. 
Pho, I fear nothing;— Are not you a Squire, and rich?— you're above the Leaw.  Cheat. 
Ay; but Knights ha'been hanged,— I dread hanging— I tremble always when I think on't.  La Beauc. 
Hanged! there's no danger of being hanged; what,— ha'ye no Courage?  Cheat. 
Yes, I have Courage, and that she shall find; my Injuries, as I have read it, steel my Eyes. Mrs Arabella,— I could swear the Peace against you, and have you before a Justice;— but I will spare you the Shame; and punish you myself:— Come along.  Arab. 
Resistance is in vain,— but I will be revenged, or kill myself.  Cheat. 
Ay, ay, kill yourself, and then I shall have your Estate, without being troubled with your Person.— I'll humble you.  Arab. 
And Heaven punish thee.  Cheat. 
Don't trouble your musty Pate about Heaven, (as my Sister says) but come along.  Peg. 
Away with her, away with her.  Arab. 
I take Heaven and Earth to witness, I believe you design to murder me.  Cheat. 
There's no such Design; besides your Witnesses are not valid,— I never heard their Evidence go in any Trial in all my life.  La. Beauc. 
No, it is not to murder ye, but make ye better: No more words, but let it be done.  (Exeunt, manent La. Beauc. and Peggy. Peg. 
I'm glad she's to be locked up,— for had any Gentlemen come to see me, she's so pert, her Tongue would ha' been running.  Enter Cheatall with a Key, and Gentil and Eugenia. Cheat. 
Here I have her double locked, i'faith neither Window nor Mousehole in the Room: Gentil,— fetch my Cloak,— I'll to my Lawyer Mr. Cobblecase, for my Mind misgives me plaguily.  Gent. 
Shall I wait on you, Sir?  Cheat. 
No, no, stay at home, and if any one asks for Mrs. Arabella, say, She does not lodge here.  Gent. 
Yes.  Cheat. 
B'w'y Sister.  La. Beauc. 
Your Journey is needless, but you may go if you will; and, d'ye hear, ask Mr. Cobblecase to come and dine here, he's a Bachelor.— You should always be thinking of Peggy.  Cheat. 
Well, well.  (Exit. Peg. 
O Mother, yonder's Mr. Spendall a coming,— he's grown very fine of late.  La. Beauc. 
Ay, if he would leave your Vather's Company, and make out what he says about his entailed Estate, the man is not to be despised.  Enter Spendall. Spend. 
My Lady Beauclair, your most humble. Dear pretty Creature, yours.  [Kisses her. La. Beauc. 
Lord, Mr. Spendall, what d'ye do?— well, I wonder Peg endures it.— I'll vow and swear, Mr. Spendall, Knights presume no farther than to kiss the tip of my Daughters little Finger, and you make nothing of her Lips.  Spend. 
How! make nothing of 'em! pardon me, Madam, I put 'em to the use Nature designed:— They are as sweet as— and as soft as— Gad, I must taste 'em again to raise my Fancy.  Peg. 
Be quiet, let me alone, Mr. Spendall.  Spend. (singing) 

Oh, give your sweet Temptations o'er,  
I'll taste those dangerous Lips no more.   La. Beauc. 
You're a strange man,— but come— sing us a Song of your own— Husband says you can make Varses.  Peg. 
But let it be as like that as you can, for methinks that is very pretty.  Spend. 
(aside) Does the Fool think I shall make it ex tempore?— however, I have one pretty near it, as it happens. I'll rather expose myself, than not endeavour to divert you, Madam.  [Sings, whilst the Mother and Daughter imitate his Gestures. 

A SONG by Mr.—,  

AT dead of Night, when wrapped in Sleep  
The Peaceful Cottage lay,  
Pastora left her folded Sheep,  
Her Garland, Crook, and needless Scrip,  
Love led the Nymph astray.   

Loose and Undressed she takes her flight  
To a near Myrtle-shade:  
The conscious Moon gave splendid light,  
To Bless the Ravished Lover's sight,  
And gain the Loving Maid.   

His eager Arms the Nymph Embrace,  
And, to assuage the Pain,  
His restless Passion he obeys:  
At such an hour, in such a place,  
What Lover could contain?   

In vain she called the conscious Moon,  
The Moon no succour gave;  
The cruel Stars, unmoved, looked on,  
And seemed to wink at what was done,  
Nor would her humour save.   

Vanquished at last by powerful Love,  
The Nymph explring lay;  
No more she sighed, no more she strove,  
Since no kind Stars were found above,  
She blushed, and died away.   

Yet Blessed the Grove, her happy Flight,  
And Youth that did betray  
And panting, dying with Delight,  
She Blessed the kind transporting Night,  
And Cursed approaching Day.    La. Beauc. 
Thank ye, 'tis very sine, I'll vow and swear.  Peg. 
So 'tis indeed Mother.  La. Beauc. 
Now, to leave fooling, where's my Husband?  Spend. 
I know not, I han't seen him these two days.— Here my Father writes to me, if I will take up, (that's the old man's Expression) and find a virtuous Woman with a Fortune, he will give me Threethousand pounds down, and settle Eight hundred a year,— and, faith, I am trying to obey ' the rich Cuff, and wean myself from my old Friends and the dear Bottle.  La. Beauc. 
Ay, you do very well, Mr. Spendall; I should be overjoyed to see you take up, and perhaps a Fortune may be found:— I'll say no more— but a thorough Reformation will produce strange matters, matters I little thought of;— but I'll say no more.  Spend. 
Your Ladyship must not say a word of this to Sir Charles, for then he'll forbid me the sight of this dear Creature, whose Charms alone have power to work the mentioned Reformation.  La. Beauc. 
No, no, fear not that, I han't so many Friends, to go the ready way to lose 'em.  Peg. 
For my part, I don't love Vather so well, to tell him any thing of us.  Enter a Boy with a Letter. Boy. 
Madam, here's a Penny-post Letter to your Ladyship.  La. Beauc. 
To me!  Peg. 
I warrant 'tis to me, from some Spark.  La. Beauc. 
Stand away Hussy, 'tis durracted to my— my Lady Beauclair,— What's this [stammering at it] Mrs. Banter's the Indian House?— Read it, Mr. Spendall, some mischief, I believe. (Spend, reads) Tho' unknown, I cannot forbear, in Justice to your Ladyship's Merit, informing you, that Sir Charles, at four a clock, will be with a Mistress, at Mrs. Bantam's; use your Discretion, but assure yourself it is a Truth.  La. Beauc. 
O the Villain, the Rogue! the confounded Whore! I'll tear his and her Eyes out; always at home he's sick, his Head aches, and he must lie alone: Ah, Mr. Spendall, if I should tell you the naked Truth, you'd say, he was a Viilain too; I've often told him his own with Tears, and the brazenfaced Villain has forswore it. My Husband with a Whore! I have no Patience; I'll go there immediately, and stay till he comes.  Peg. 
Ay, do mother, and I'll go with you, and help to pull their Eyes out.  Spend. 
Are you both mad? Why all there love Sir Charles to that degree they'd watch and turn him back,— you'd never conceal your Passion,— your only way is to come after the hour, and then you'll certainly surprise 'em.  La. Beauc. 
That's true; well, good Mr. Spendall stay and comfort me,— I fear I shall have my Fits, and then no two men can hold me.  Spend. 
I would with all my Heart, and esteem myself happy to serve you, but my Father has sent me twenty Guineas for a Token, and if I don't go this minute, the man will be gone out of Town, and carry 'em back with him.  La. Beauc. 
Nay, that is not to be neglected.— Come Child, we'll go to my Cousin Prattle's, and tell her this News: my Husband with a Whore!— I cannot bear it.  Spend. 
I must seize a Kiss, else I shall faint before I see you again.  Peg. 
Pish, pish, I think the man's distracted.  La. Beauc. 
Is this a time.— and my Husband with a Whore! I wish my Nails were twice as long for her sake.— Ah Child, thy Vather was anotherguess man than this, tho' he had Faults too. Come away: Your Servant Mr. Spendall.  Peg. 
Your Servant Sir.  La. Beauc. 
My Husband with a Whore!  [Exeunt La. Beauclair and Peggy. Spend. 
Ladies, your most obedient Slave.— Thus far Affairs go on as I could wish. Now if my Lady does but abuse Bellinda, till it come to parting between Sir Charles and she, than my Miss being out of his Tuition, I fear not her falling into mine:— She's damned silly, I am forced to let all Courtship lie in Kissing, for she understands a Compliment no more than Algebra.— Well— her Wealth makes it up.— Now for Dinner.  (Exit. Scene Changes to St. James Park. Enter Sir Charles Beauclair, Bellinda and Mrs. Beauclair. Mrs. Beau. 
This Walk i'th' Park has done me good.  Bell. 
'Twas very refreshing.  Mrs. B. 
Is not this better now dear Bellinda, than reading and sighing away every beauteous Morning.  Bell 
Yes, if at each gazer the conscious Blushes would forbear to rise, if I could look upon this object of my Love and Virtue, not shrink back, it were true happiness.  Sir Char. 
My lovely Charmer, let me call this day mine, and oblige you to be cheerful.  Mrs. B. 
I warrant ye, by and by we'll be as merry as the— you know the title that sticks ahand, Uncle,— ha, yonder's Sir Francis Wildlove, for Heaven's sake step behind the Trees, whilst I clap on my Mask, and prole towards Rosamends Pond, and he, no doubt, pursues.  Bell. 
You will not sure.  Mrs. B. 
Indeed, my dear Gravity, I will; that is, with your leave, Sir.  Sir Char. 
Well thou art a mad Girl, but I dare trust thee, come this way, Madam.  Exit. Mrs. B. crosses the Stage, Sir Fran. Wildlove following at a distance. Sir Fran. 
What's there, a Woman well Shaped, well Dressed, Masked and alone! how many Temptations has the Devil tacked together for a poor frail Mortal, that scarce needed half a one! the Handkerchief dropped, a fair invitation, a duce take her agility, she has been too nimble for me, however I'll venture,— Madam, by your remaining, when the whole Army of Beauties are retired, I should guests you Picceer for a particular prize.  Mrs. B. 
Then I suppose you have vanity enough to think your well-rigged Pinnace worth securing.  Sir Fran. 
Faith, Child, I hope you would not find the freight disagrecable.  Mrs. B. 
Now I could not have thought such a hopeful proper Gentleman, would have been straggling in the Park this Hour; what, no Lady of Quality, nor Miss that appears like one to lead out to day, no Assignation? or is ' the plague upon your fine clothes, Credit out, and Pocket empty?  Sir Char. 
Shall I tell you the truth.  Mrs. B. 
Yes, if you can find in your heart.  Sir Fran. 
Why then, Faith, I have an Appointment, and that with Ladies, nay, and Music; yet if you'll be kind, my dear Chicken, they shall wait for me in vain. By Heaven, a charming side face.  (Coming nearer her. Mrs. 
Stand off, or I vanish, but tell me what makes you so indifferent to your first engagement? the Women are Old I suppose.  Sir Fran. 
Alas, very Buds, my Dear.  Mrs. B. 
Ugly then.  Sir Fran. 
Beautiful as Angels.  Mrs. B. 
What can be the matter?  Sir Fran. 
Don't you guess? why they are Virtuous. I have a Mistress there, confound me if I am not damnably in Love with her, and yet could never get myself in a vein serious enough to say one dull, foolish, modest thing to her.  Mrs. B. 
Poor Gentleman, suppose you practised before you went, and fancied me the Lady.  Sir Fran. 
A Match.  Mrs. B. 
With Arms across.  Sir Fran. 
And the looks of an Ass, I begin, ah Madam!— how was that sigh?  Mrs. B. 
Pretty well.  Sir Fran. 
Behold the humblest of your Slaves: see the Martyr of your Frowns; those Arms must heal the Wounds your Eyes have made, or else I die; they must, they must.  (Rushing upon her. Mrs. B. 
Hold, hold!— Sir Charles, Sir Charles', here I shall be ravished in the open Park.  (Unmasking. Sir Fran. 
O Heavens! Mrs. Beauclair!  Enter Sir Charles and Bellinda. Sir Char. 
Why how now Frank, in Raptures before the face of the World and the Sun!  Sir Fran. 
Pshaw, I do confess I am caught.  Bell. 
If you had come to any harm, Madam, you might have thanked yourself.  Mrs. B. 
(aside) No great harm neither, to have a hearty Hug from the man one loves.  Sir Fran. 
Madam, I humbly ask your Pardon.  Mrs. B. 
It is easily granted, 'twas a Frolic of my own beginning.  Sir Fran. 
This Generosity wholly subdues my wandering Heart.  Mrs. B. 
Have a care of getting into the dull, foolish, modest Road, Sir Francis.  Sir Fran. 
No more of that, dear madam.  Sir Cham 
Come, I believe Dinner stays; where's your Friend Mr. Beaumond?  Sir Fran. 
He'll be there before us.  Sir Cham 
Let's to our Chairs, I dare say the Ladies are tired.  Bell. 
Truly I am.  Enter Jenny, and pulls Sir Francis by the Sleeve; he steps aside with her. Jen. 
Sir, the Lady that came lately from the Indies, whom you have seen at the Play, sends you this; the odness of the Superscription she'll explain to you.  Sir Fran. 
O the charming Angel! dear Girl, accept my Acknowledgement, and step behind those Trees whilst I lead my Mother and my Aunt into their Chairs, I'll be with you in a moment.  Mrs. B. 
O the wretched Libertine! but to take notice on't would show too much Concern.  Sir Cham 
Sir Francis, where are you?  Sir Fra. 
Here, at your Elbow, Sir Charles': Madam, may I presume to lead you to your Chair?  Mrs. B. 
Yes Sir, tho' I believe, as your Affairs stand, you could 'bate the Ceremony.  Sir Fran. 
The greatest Affairs in Christendom should not hinder me from waiting on your Ladyship.  (Exeunt. Enter Jenny. Jen. 
No faith, they are not of the Shape of motherly and elderly Aunts: I'll not stay here, but watch where they go, and tell my Lady what a Rambler she has chose.  (Exit. SCENE changes to a House. Enter Mrs. Flywife. Mrs. Flyw. 
So with much coaksing I have got my jealous Fellow to let me go out this afternoon, on the pretence of buying things, and seeing an old Aunt, If this Wench would come and tell me where the mad Spark will be, I'll venture to give him the meeting; have you found him?  Enter Jenny. Jen. 
Yes, Madam, but I perceive he's a sad wild man, he was engaged with two Masks, and would fain have flammed me off 'twas his Mother, but I saw by their Mien and Dress they were young.  Mrs. Flyw. 
What said he to you?  Jen. 
Seemed much pleased, but shy: Bid me stay, and promised to return presently; I thought I should do your Ladyship more service in seeing where they went, so I dogged 'em to Mrs. Bantam's our Neighbour and housed 'em all there.  Mrs. Flyw. 
Very good, and by and by, I'll to Locket's, and send for him, I fancy I know the Gentleman s humours so well, that he'll certainly forsake old acquaintance for those of a newer date, tho' he ventures changing for the worse: he seemed eager and pleased, fierce and fond, and swore my Charms were unequalled. His swearing indeed signifies but little, the Banquet o'er,  
Yet sure he'll meet when Love and I invite,  
For Love's his God, and leads him to delight.  
The End of the Second Act.   

ACT III.  Enter Eugenia, followed by Gentil. Gent. 
WHither so fast. Mrs. Eugenia?  Eug. 
Stop me not, I am upon an Act of Charity, trying to free the Immured Lady;—— I have been picking up all the Rusty Keys in the house, in hopes to accomplish it.  Gent. 
Why you'll lose your place.  Eug. 
Hang my place,— There's not one in the Family understands a Grain of Civility, except Sir Charles; and if he speaks to me my Lady pulls my Head-cloaths off— Come I know you don't love that Lubberly. Coxcomb, your Master— E'en join with me, assist in Arabella's Liberty, and recover her Fortune, and I dare engage she ll make ours. Besides, to tell you the Truth, I have received ten Guineas to day, from one Mr. Beaumond, to endeavour her freedom.  Gent. 
That's a most prevailing Argument, I confess. What I do is for your sake Mrs. Eugenia  Eug. 
In hopes to go snacks with the Gold. Ha, Gentil! Well, well, stay here I'll return immediately.  [Exit, and Re-enter with Arabella. 
'Tis done, 'tis done, is this a Bird to be concealed in such a dark and Dismal Cage?  Arab. 
Well thou art a rare Girl. O if thou couldst but conjure now, and get the Writings of my Estate for me, sive hundred Pound should be thy own next moment, Wench.  Gent. 
Say you so, Madam, Gad I'll turn Devil but it shall be done.  Eug. 
Why what would that signify to you Fool?  Gent. 
Well, mind the Lady's business, and let me alone to take care of yours.  Eug. 
First let us take care of the 'Squire, Gad if I don't manage that Booby, I 'll give you leave to cut my Apron, and make a slobering Biboned.  Gent. 
Well, what's your contrivance?  Eug. 
Why, I'll go in again, pour down a Bottle of Red-Ink I know of, make all fast, and swear he has murdered ye. A Cross Old Woman lately, to whom he would give nothing, told him, she read it in his Phys, That he would come to be hanged; which the superstitious Fool has ever since been afraid of; very indifferent Circumstances will Confirm that Fear, and bring him to a Compliance.  Arab. 
My better Angel! It has a Lucky face— It looks like thee— but how must I be disposed of?  Eug. 
If you please to go to Mrs. Beauclairs, Sir Charles's Niece, she's a Woman Cheerful, Witty, and Good, and will assist you in every Thing.  Arab. 
I 've heard so well of her, I dare venture to be obliged to her, come let's make haste,  Eug. 
Gentil, get the back door open, and let none of the Servants see us go out; I'm sure we shall be lucky, because my Termagant Lady won't be at home to day to disturb us.  Arab. 
Come then, I long to quit the House I have been so ill used in.  Ex. Scene changes to the India House. Enter Sir Francis Wildlove. Sir Fran. 
A Duse of all ill luck, I have lost my little Ambassadress from my dear Indian Queen, 'twas a Charmer: how can an old Curmudgeon have the Impudence to hope he should keep such a lovely Creature to himself? For a Husband or Cully, I find by her discourse, she has, and by the Description, she hates him, which is a good step for me.  Enter Searchwell. Search. 
Sir, all the Company is coming into this Room, to hear the Music.  Sir Fran. 
Gad so, are they? then I must wait upon Mrs. Beauclair down. Sirrah, you are a purblind Dog, not to find the pretty Letter-Carrier.  Search. 
I think I see a Woman as soon as another, else I'm sure I were not fit for your Honour's Service. I'll swear she was not in the Park: I searched it three times over as carefully as I had been to look a Needle in a Bottle of Hay, and hanged if I did not find it.  Sir Fran. 
What a Comparison the Puppy has! D'ye hear, if you do not find her out, I shall Discard you for an Insignificant Blockhead, for I am Damnably and Desperately in Love with her Mistress.  Exit. Sir Fran. Search. 
Ah Lard, Ah Lard, Desperately and Damnably in Love with her, and never saw her but twice at a Play, and then she was in a Mask. Well my Master would be the best of men if 'twere not for these Whores I am harassed off my Legs after 'em; the Pox, the Plague, that belongs to 'em, consume 'em all I say.  (Exit. Enter Sir Charles, Beauclair, Sir Francis Wildlove, Beaumond, Spendall, Bellinda and Mrs. Beaumond. Sir Char. 
Ladies, how d'ye like your small Regalio?  Mrs. Beau. 
Extremely; for aught I know, Sir Charles, you may report showing me the way to gad abroad.  Bell. 
What Opinion, Madam, do you think this Gentleman will have of us, for I presume the young Ladies in the Country are not so free of their Company?  Mrs. Beau. 
No, poor Gentlewomen— They are Condemned to the Government of some Toothless Aunt or Grannum, visit but once a year, and that in the Summer season, when the heat covers the Ruddy Lasses with sweat and dust. The Winter they divert themselves with Blindman's Buff among the serving men; where, too often, one sprucer than the rest, whispers Love to Miss Jenny, and seduces even the Eldest Daughter.  Beaumond. 
Tho' some have been guilty of those weaknesses, you must not accuse all.  Mrs. Beau. 
All who are confined there, never suffered to see the World— for granting one more thinking than the rest, who has power and obeys her Father, in suffering the Addresses of the next adjacent 'Squire, she either dies of a Consumption (Pining after pleasures more refined) or else o'ercome with Vapours, runs melancholy mad.  Beaumond. 
(to Bell.) Madam you sighed at this pretty Description.  Bell. 
Did I?  Beaumond. 
Both her deportment and face confirm my suspicions.  (aside. Sir Char. 
You are thoughtful, Frank.  Mrs. Beau. 
Would you have him brisker, Uncle? 'tis but my clapping on a Mask, and 'tis done. Sir Francis, do I wrong you, have I not seen you at a Play slighting all the barefaced Peauties, hunting a Trollop in a Mask with pains and pleasure; Nay, more for her gaping Nonsensical Banters, neglecting immortal Dryden's Eloquence, or Congreve's unequalled Wit..  Sir Fran. 
I own sometimes I divert myself with the little Gypsies.  Mrs. Beau. 
Ay, and disturb the Audience.  Sir Fran. 
Faith, Madam, I must speak freely, tho' you are a Woman of Quality, and my Friend's Niece, you talk so prettily, 'tis pity you should not do it often in a Mask: But then again, you are so pretty, 'tis pity you should ever wear one.  Mrs. Beau. 
I did not design by railing to beg a Compliment; Sir Charles, where's the Music?  

A Song by Mrs. P—, Sung by Mr. Hodgson.  
WHen I languished, and wished you would something bestow,  
You bade me to give it a Name;  
But, by Heaven, I know it as little as you,  
Tho' my Ignorance passes for Shame:  
You take for Devotion each passionate Glance,  
And think the dull Fool is sincere,  
But never believe that I speak in Romance  
On purpose to tickle your Ear.  
To please me then more, think still I am true,  
And hug each Apocryphal Text:  
Tho' I practise a thousand false Doctrines on you,  
I shall still have enough for the next. [A Dance.   A Dialogue, between two Platonic Lovers: The Words by Mr. Motteux, and set by Mr. Eccles. Herald 

HOw long must I the hours employ  
To see, be loved, yet ne'er enjoy?  
Tho' to curb loose desires I try,  
Sure I may wish at least to die?  
die then, Poor Strephon, wretched Swain;  
Nor only live to love in vain,   She. 

Live, hopeless Lover, while Igrieve  
Much for thy Fate, but more for mine;  
For mine, my Dear, Condemned to live,  
To Love, be Loved, yet ne'er be thine.   Herald 

Oh, See me, Love me, Grieve me still,  
Till Love's excess, or Sorrow's kill,  
'Tis not myself I Love, but thee,  
Then I must die to set thee free.   She. 

No, Live and Love, tho' hope is dead;  
For 'tis a Virtue so to Love:  
The Gold's refined, the Dross is fled,  
The Martyrs thus in Flames improve.   Both. 

Then let us Love on, and never Complain,  
But Fan the kind Fire, and Bless the dear Pain.  
For why to Despair should true Lovers be driven?  
Since Love has his Martyrs, he must have his Heaven.   Spend. 
My Lady Beauclair will be here straight, I'll e'en march off.  [is going. Sir Cham 
What, desert us, Jack! tho' the Ladies won't drink, you may.  Spend. 
I beg your Pardon, Sir Charles,— I have made an Assignation with some Women of Quality of my Acquaintance.  Mrs. B. 
Women of Quality! what, your Laundresses Daughter, or some pert, fleering, tawdry Thing of a Shop, vain, and proud to lose what she understands not, her Reputation; she also brags, she's coming to Quality when she meets you.  Spend. 
I shall not expose their Names, to convince your Ladyship of their Rank.  Bell. 
O, by no means debar the Gentleman of his Quality.  Sir Fran. 
You see the Ladies are willing to dismiss you, Jack.  Spend. 
I'm their very humble servant.  (Exit. Immediately after Enter Lady Beauclair, (pushing away a Servant Maid) and Mrs. Peggy. La. Beauc. 
Ye lie, ye damned Quean, he is here,— ha!— and his Minion with him!— let me come at her—  [Leaps, and catches hold of her. Sir Cham 
Hell and Furies! my Wife!— Madam, why all this Rage? Don't you see my Niece? the other is a Friend of hers, a Woman of Honour.  La. Beauc. 
Your Niece is a Pimp, and she's a Whore! I'll mark her— Sirrah— Villain! Oh, oh my Fits! my Fits!  (Falls in a Chalr. Sir Cham 
Fly, my Bellinda, from her brutal Rage, whilst I Wedlock's slave stay and appease this hateful storm.  Bel. 
'Tis but what I ought to have expected; 'tis just I should be punished, to prevent my being guilty.  Sir Fran. 
Dear Beaumond, carry this injured Lady off, whilst we bear the brunt.  Mrs. B. 
Go to my Lodgings, Child.  Bel. 
Any where, to Death or Hell, if there can be a greater Hell than what this Bosom feels.  Peg. 
O Lo. O Lo. I believe my Mother's dead.  Sir Cham 
You know the contrary; these Fits are a new Trick Nature has furnished the Sex with.— Heretofore Tears and Smiles were the highest part their Dissimulation could attain.  All this while Lady Beauclair has been saintly striving, as in a Fit, and now shrieks out— Oh! oh! Mrs. B. 
Give her some Water.  Sir Cham 
Give her some Wine, else you'll disoblige her more, to my Knowledge, than the Fits.  Peg. 
(aside) And well thought on,— I'll steal behind and drink a Glass of Wine,— my stomach's a cold.  Goes to the Side-table, whilst they are about the Chair and drinks two or three Glasses of Wine. La. Beauc. 
(starting up) No, Villain, Devil! I'll drink none of your Wine,— it may be poisoned.  Sir Cham 
Oh, you had not lost all your Senses, you could hear, I find.  La. Beauc. 
Rogue, and I'll make thee seel, I'll tear thy Linen, Hair, thy cursed Eyes.  Sir Cham 
Hold, Madam, as I'm a Gentleman, use me like one.  Mrs. B. 
Sir Francis, here's an excellent Argument on your side, here's Matrimony in its true colours.  Sir Fra. 
No, Madam, her Carriage is not a satire on the whole Sex,— it but sets off better Wives.  La. Beauc. 
Yes, you were a Gentleman, and that was all, when I married ye, the poor third Brother of a Knight, 'twas I brought your Estate; if since by your Friend's death one has fell, must I be abused, sit rah?  Sir Cham 
Madam, you have not been abused; you know that I was in my Nonage married, saw not with my own Eyes, nor chose for my unhappy self; ere I lived with ye, I possessed an Estate nobler, a larger far than yours, which you have still commanded; nay, I have often ●…g'd ye to Diversions, in hopes it would have altered that unquiet mind, but all in vain.  La. Beauc. 
Divartions! what Divartions? Yes, you had me to the Playhouse, and the first thing I saw was an ugly black Devil kill his Wife, for nothing; then your M●…idate King o' the Potecaries, your Timon the Atheist, the Man in the Moon, and all the rest— Nonsence, Stuff, I hate 'em.  Sir Cham 
I need say no more,— Now, Madam, you have shown yourself.  La. Beauc. 
Shown, what have I shown? send for your Gilflurt to show: I have shown nothing but a vartuous Face.  Mrs. B. 
All Virtue does not lie in Chastity, tho' that's a great one.  La. Beauc. 
Well Cousin, I'm sorry to see you take such Courses, I would not have my Peg like you for the Varsal World. Peg, what a Colour this Child has got! fretting for me, I'm afraid, has put her into a Fever.  Sir Fran. 
Come, Madam, let's compose these Differences; your Anger is groundless— upon my Word. Not well, pretty miss! will you drink a Glass of Wine?  (Mrs. Peggy hickups. Peg. 
No, I thank you,— I cannot abide it.  La. Beauc. 
Poor Girl, she never drinks any thing strong, except she's very sick indeed.  Sir Cham 
And she's very often sick, poor Creature!— about some five or six times a day.— Madam, shall I wait on you home? I think we may quit this place with Shame enough.  Mrs. Peg. 
(to her Mother, aside) Don't be Friends, for Mr. Spendall sent me word, he'd meet us in the Park, and if Vather goes with us, how shall that be?  La. Beauc. 
I daned intend it;— No, Hypocrite, you shan't stir a step with me, if thou dost, I 'll make a bigger noise below, and raise the House about thy Ears. Come Peg.  (Exeunt La. Beauc. and Peggy. Mrs. B. 
My Aunt's Noise is her Guard, none dare approach her.  Sir Cham 
Her going out can't be more ridiculous than her coming in.  Mrs. B. 
Sir Charles, Let not your noble Courage be cast down.  Sir Cham 
Outrageous Clamours are no News to me; but I dread how my Bellinda may resent it.  Sir Fran. 
I wonder, Sir Charles, you have Patience to live with this violent Woman.  Sir Cham 
'Tis for my Fair one's sake, who, nicely jealous the World would say she had occasioned our parting, has sworn never to see me more, if I attempt it.  Enter Searchwell. Searchw. 
(aside to Sir Fran.) Sir, Sir, the Lady you are so damnably in love with sends word, if you disengage yourself from your Company, she'll be at Locket's in half an hour.  Mrs. B. 
Is it so, i faith?  Sir Fran. 
(to him) Coxcomb, what need you ha' spoke so loud? Tell him I'll not fail to wait on him. Well, Sir Charles, you'll to Bellinda.  Sir Cham 
No, I'll first go home, and try to stop the farther Fury of my Wife.  Sir Fran. 
Madam, I had Hopes you would have done me the Honour to let me wait on you this Afternoon, but it has happened so unluckily, that an old Uncle of mine, to whom I am much obliged,—  Mrs. B. 
(aside to him) Oh, I'm your Uncle's Servant. Sir, there needs no Excuse, your Company being at this time a Favour I neither expect nor desire.  Sir Cham 
Will you go in a Chair, Niece, or in my Coach?  Mrs. B. 
A Chair if you please, Sir.  Sir Fran. 
To that give us both leave to wait on you.  Mrs. B. 
Pray give me leave to speak a word to my Boy first.. Will.  Boy. 
Madam.  Mrs. B. 
Run to my Woman, and bid her come to her Aunts immediately, and bring me the Suit Sir Charles made for the last Ball, and left at my Lodgings: make haste, fly.  Boy. 
I will, Madam.  Mrs. B. 
Hang it, 'tis but one ridiculous thing, I'm resolved to do it, I'll find these Pleasures out, that charm this Reprobate; Money will make all the Drawers mine.  Sir Cham 
I'm ready to go.  Sir Fran. 
Madam, be pleased to accept my Hand.  (Exeunt. SCENE changes, Beauclair's Lodgings, Enter Beaumond leading Bellinda. Beaum. 
Now, Madam, you're safe in the Lodgings of your Friend, forget the Rudeness past.  Bell. 
Forget it! impossible; her Words, like Poisonous Shafts, have pierced my Soul, and will for ever dwell upon my Memory with endless painful Wracks; yet look not on me as that vice Creature she has represented, but believe me, Sir, I engaged my Heart too far, before I knew Sir Charles was married. When I found my Love unjust, how exquisite the Torment proved, chilled, with Watchings, Sighs, and Tears, yet 'spight of my Distractions, spite of the rising Damps and falling Dews, 'twas grown too great to be extinguished, till this last storm has torn it by the Roots to spring no more.  Beaum. 
Her every word and looks confirms my Thoughts. Madam, this I dare presume to say, both from his Character and my small Acquaintance, Sir Charles Beauclair has moral Virtues, to our late English Hero's unpractised and unknown; yet if I might advise, you should never see him more, or only to take an everlasting Leave.  Bel. 
Your Freedom, I confess, is strange, and your Advice is what I had resolved on before.  Beaum. 
None but the lovely Mariam could with such becoming Majesty have checked a Stranger's boldness. View well these Lines, and then confess if they do not the resemblance bear of a soft charming Face you have often by reflection seen.  (Gives a Picture. Bel. 
Ha! my own Picture, one of the effects of my dear Mother's fondness, which she, dying, left in my Father's Hands; he named me too; then let everlasting darkness shrond me; let me no more behold the Sun or human kind, forget the World, as I would be of that forgotten.  Beaum. 
Turn, Madam, and look upon me as your Friend; if you would still remain unknown, my Breast shall keep this Discovery silent and safe as Secrets buried with the dead: Your Father gave me that Picture, with Desires so tender for your return, that, I confess, they moved me: I undertook the enquiry, tho'scarce could hope to have succeeded. Since your absence your Brother's dead; so that your Father, hopeless and childless, mourns, and says your sight would revive him more than when he first blessed Heaven for your happy birth and Mother's safety.  Bel. 
My Brother dead!— loved Youth! I grieve thy untimely Fate, but thou art gone to rest ' and Peace, whilst I am left upon the wrack: Sir, I read in all your words a piercing Truth and an unbiased Honour, they have set my Errors full before me, my fled Duty returns as swift as I will do to this wronged Parent, hang on his aged Knees, nor rise till I have found Forgiveness and my Blessing there.  Beaum. 
Tho' much I wish your Honour and your Fame secure, yet to part such Lovers, whom this lewd Age will scarce believe there ever were, grates my very Nature.  Bel. 
Oh! let me not look back that way, but generously assist me on, till that dear man, who, witness my Disgraces, I value more than all Earth's richest Treasures. Tell him, lest he should take it ill of you, that I have confessed my Birth, and have resolved to fly from him and all the World, and in my Father's House remain as in a Cloister.  Beaum. 
How will he brook the Message?  Bel. 
Oh! tell him, Sir, that the pangs of parting will scarce excel those my struggling Virtue gave at every guilty meeting, for there was Guilt: tell him I have sworn to die if he pursues. I blush to impose all this on you; but if a Lover, sure you'll forgive my Follies.  Beaum. 
I'll tell him all, but I must send him too, a parting Kiss, at least, which must be allowed to such unequalled Love.  Bel. 
Not till all is fixed for my remove, than I once more will see him, though my Heartstrings crack, I'll conquer all these criminal Fires; I have the Goal in view, bright Honour leads me on, the part is glorious, but, oh! 'tis painful too: Let me retire, and tear him from my doting Thoughts, or in the bitter Conflict lose the use of Thought.  (Exit. Beaum. 
How strong are the Efforts of Honour where a good Education grounds the Mind in Virtue! this unexpected hurry has for some moments banished my dear Arabella from my Thoughts. O, here comes my Implyment! well, how goes Affairs?  Enter Searchwell. Search. 
Rarely, Sir; the Chambermaid swallowed the Guineas as glibly as a Lawyer a double Fee from his Client's Antagonist; she's bringing the young Lady hither. Eugenia talks of a Contrivance, that you should instantly appear like a Tarpaulin, pretend to be related to the Lady, and fright the 'Squire into a compliance.  Beaum. 
Any thing to serve my Arabella, we'll meet 'em, and receive their Instructions.  (Exeunt. 
The End of the Third Act.   

ACT IU.  SCENE a Room in Locket's, a Table with a Flask upon it. Enter Sir Francis Wildlove and Mrs. Flywife. Mrs. Flyw. 
WEll, this is a strange mad thing, but my old cross Fellow will never let me take a mouthful of Air; I am sure you will have an ill Opinion of me.  Sir Fran. 
A kind one you mean, Madam; I think you generous, lovely, and all my Heart desires.  Mrs. Flyw. 
My Maid is gone the Lord knows where for Fruit; I swear I tremble, coming into a Tavern alone.  Sir Fran. 
A Glass of Wine will recall the fled Roses, but here's the Nectar thirsty Love requires.  (Kisses her. (Mrs. Beauclair bounces in, in men's Clothes.) Mrs. Beauc. 
O pardon and protect me; I'm pursued by Hellhounds, Bailiffs, and if taken, inevitably ruined.  Sir Fran. 
The Devil take thee and the Bailiffs together, for an interrupting young Dog.  Mrs. Beauc. 
You look with a Face cruel as they, but sure in those fair Eyes I read some Pity.  Mrs. Flyw. 
[aside] A very handsome Fellow, how came you in Trouble, Sir? (to him.  Mrs. Beauc. 
Alas, Madam, I was put to an Attorney, but longing to turn Beau, have half-ruined my Master, wholly lost my Friends, and now am followed by the several Actions of my Tailor, Sempstress, Perruke-maker, Hosier, and a long Et cetera; besides, the swingingst Debt my Perfumer; Essence and sweet Powder has completed my Ruin.  Sir Fra. 
'Tis monstrous to cheat honest Tradesmen in dressing up a Fop; therefore, unwelcoming Intruder, I desire you would seek your Protection elsewhere.  Mrs. Flyw. 
Nay, now you are too severe; the young Gentleman in Liberty may mend his Fortunes, and live to pay his Debts; he has a promising Face.  Sir Fran. 
Your Pity, Madam; but hastens absence.  Mrs. Beau. 
(aside) Will this Fellow, I thought I had so well instructed, never come?  Enter Drawer. Draw. 
Sir Francis, a man out of breath says he must speak with you, on what concerns your Friend's Life.  Sir Fran. 
The Devil's in the Dice to day; where is he? what's the matter?  (Exit. Mrs. Beau. 
(aside) Now Impudence and Eloquence assist me, what have I done? in seeking to preserve my Liberty, I have for ever lost it; my unexperienced Youth ne'er viewed such Charms before, and, without Compassion, this Bondage may be worse than what I avoided.  Mrs. Flyw. 
(laughing) Meaning me, sir?  Mrs. Beau. 
Nay, I m a Fool, for Bankrupt in Wealth how can I hope to thrive in Love, since scarce any of your fair sex, tho' merit was thrown into the scales, value a man on whom Fortune frowns.  Mrs. Flyw. 
(aside) I think it is the prettiest Youth I ever saw, I have Wealth enough to supply his wants, what should then debar me?  Mrs Beau. 
So; she eyes me kindly I'm sure.  Mrs. Flyw. 
Your Looks, sweet Youth, plead powerful as your Language; and to let you see I value not Riches, the want of which makes you miserable, accept this Ring, 'twill stop a Creditor's mouth, and pay two or three Ordinaries at the blue Posts:  Mrs. Beau. 
Oh wondrous Bounty! thus encouraged, shall I beg another Favour, that you would fly from hence before that angry man returns, lest I fall a sacrifice to his Jealousy, and see those charming Eyes no more.  Mrs. Flyw. 
If my maid would come,— ha! here she is; sure you have flown.  Enter Jenny. Jen. 
I beg your Pardon, Madam, I ne'er went, Sir Francis's Gentleman and I were solacing ourselves below, and sent a Porter for the Fruit till hearing. Sir Francis was gone in a great hurry, he ran after his Master, and I came up to see what was the matter.  Mrs. Beau. 
A hopeful Mistress and Maid! deliver me from these Town-Ladies.  (Aside. Mrs. Flyw. 
Ungrateful man, on any Pretence to leave me!  Mrs. Beau. 
Ungrateful! monstrous; had a thousand Friends been dying, they ought all to have expired ere you have suffered a moment's neglect.  Mrs. Flyw. 
This Flattery's too gross, young Courtier, you must treat me with Truth.  Mrs. Beau. 
All is Truth, my Heart, my Life is yours.  Jenn. 
(aside) Another Spark! sure the Devil's in my Mistress.  Mrs. Flyw. 
Well Sir, I'll consent to your Desires, and we'll go from hence at the Door towards the Park, there's no danger.  Mrs. Beau. 
If you are kind, I fear none, Madam.  Mrs. Flyw. 
Let me find you what you seem, and you shall brave the World, and scorn your Debts: Jenny, get me a Chair, and show this Gentleman the House where we lodge, then come in, let him ask for you, if you can prevent your Master's seeing him do, if not, say it is one you waited upon in his Infancy, the disparity of Years between you considered, that may pass.  Jen. 
(aside) Humph, I shall never like him for this Affront. Yes, Madam, it shall be done.  Mrs. Beau. 
Your Hand, dear obliging Creature, I hear a noise.  Mrs. Flyw. 
Quick, this way: run you before, and pay one of the Drawers for this Flask of Champaign.  Exeunt. Enter Sir Francis, Searchwel, and a Drawer. Sir Fran. 
Ha! gone! so I thought; eternal Dog, you have been helping in this Contrivance; Did you take me for a Cully, Spawn of Hell? Have I known this damned Town so long, at last to be catched with such a gross Banter? speak Sirrah; who was that Impostor that told me my Friend Mr. Beaumond was taken up for a Jacobite, and the Mobb was pulling him to pieces?  Draw. 
As I ever hope to outlive your Anger, and taste again your noble Bounty, I knew nothing of him.  Sir Fra. 
Shut the Door, you careless Blockhead, whom I charged to watch and let no body come up to me: Now sirrah confess, or I'll make that Rogue help me kick thee into Mummy, for tho' my Sword's drawn, I scorn to hurt thee that way.  Draw. 
If I should confess you'll kill me, Sir.  Sir Fran. 
No.  Draw. 
Truly then, Sir, the young Spark gave me a Guinea to show him the Room where your Honour was; but for the Fellow that seemed so much concerned, I wish I may be hanged if I knew of him any thing at all Sir, any thing at all Sir. Good your Honour break my Head, and forgive me.  Sir Fran. 
I will not touch thee; Could I expect more from thy sordid Soul? Gold corrupts Mankind; be gone.  (Exit Drawer.) 
This unaccountable Jilt has so abused me, I could find in my Heart to forsake the Gang, and lay a penitential Dunce at the feet of Virtue, fair Mrs. Beauclair.  Search. 
I pray Heaven keep you in that good mind.  Sir Fran. 
Good lack, canting sot, I suppose you was shut up with a Whore, Rascal, whilst you ought to have been Pimping for me.  Search. 
Trim Tram, Sir.  Sir Fran 
How, Impudence!  Search. 
I meant the Rhyme should be, Like Mistress like Maid; for indeed I was employed with my Ladies waiting Gentlewoman.  Sir Fran. 
Was ye so, Rascal? could I but find the young stripling, 'twould be some satisfaction: Hang't, if I am balked both in Love and Revenge, the cross Adventures shall be drowned in brisk Champaign:  
'Tis the dear Glass which cases every smart,  
And presently does cure the taking Heart.  (Exit. Enter Mrs. Beanmont, meeting Dresswell. Mrs. B. 
Oh Dresswell! I'm glad I've met with thee.  Dress. 
Lord, Madam, I have been in a sad fright for ye; and hunted up and down this hour.  Mrs. B. 
All's well, let's in there, I'll tell you my adventures.  Dress. 
Then I hope your Frolic has been to your Ladyship's satisfaction.  Mrs. B. 
Yes, yes, I got Sir Francis's Mistress from him, and faith I was pursuing my Conquest, and venturing to her Lodging, when coming to the House, it proved that where Bellinda Lodged and the Lady, I suppose, the Merchant's Wife. I feared I should meet with my Uncle there, and fairly gave the Maid the drop. Come, I long to change my clothes, I'm quite tired with wearing the Breeches; this way.  [Exeunt. Enter Sir Francis Wildlove and Searchwell. Sir Fran. 
Ha! is not that the young Devil that abused me? he has entered the House, and I'll be with him presently, walk hereabouts till I come out.  (Exit. Search. 
Yes, Sir.  Scene changes to the inside of the House. Re-enter Mrs. Beaumond and Dresswell. Mrs. B. 
Are my things ready and a good fire in the Room.  Dress. 
Madam, they are?  Mrs. B. 
Peep out and see who knocks;  (one knocks. Dress. 
Madam, 'tis Sir Francis Wildlove, and he seems in a fury.  Mrs. B. 
Let him in, I'll do well enough with him; now get you gone and fear nothing.  Enter Sir Francis Wildlove. Sir Fran. 
So, Sir, I suppose you think matters have gone swingly on your side, and have laughed immoderately at the reflection how those green years have made a Fool of me; but Chance has thrown me on thee once again, and now for those Feasts of Joy an after reckoning (Draws) must be paid young Gentleman, you understand my meaning.  Mrs. B. 
Yes, and will answer it, but hear me first, 'tis to provoke you I speak: know then, your Mistress was my easy Conquest, I scarce had time to say one soft thing before she cried, Let's fly, sweet youth, e'er that rough man returns, and in thy arms forget him.  Sir Fran. 
She's a Jilt and for a well-dressed Fop would quit a man that saved her life.  Mrs. B. 
Then this Ring was presented, I suppose you may ha' seen it; adorn thy fair hand, and with ten thousand kisses 'twas whispered, you shall not want for Gold.  Sir Fran. 
Tho' I value her no more than I do thee, yet I will have thy life for harbouring so damned a thought, that I was fitter for your sport. Come on.  Mrs. B. 
Hold, hold, Sir Francis I'll not pretend to take your Sword, tho' I could your Mistress from ye, see my Credentials for my Cowardice.  (putteth up her Ring. Sir Fran. 
Mrs. Beauclair— What a blind Puppey am I, twice in one day, that's hard I faith?  Mrs. Beau. 
Pray return your Lady back her favour.  (gives him the Ring. Sir Fran. 
Madam—  Mrs. B. 
Nay, look not concerned, upon my word I'll never interrupt you more: Hug in your Bosom the plastered mischiefs, their blotted Souls and spotted Reputations, no Varnish can cover o'er, pursue, overtake, possess, the unenvied 'mongst the Painted Tribe most worthily bestow your heart.  Sir Fran. 
Think ye so meanly of me, my heart bestowed amongst your Sex's shame! No, Madam, Glorious Virtue alone can reach at that, my loving is a diversion I can soon take off.  Mrs. B. 
That's hard to believe, but I must beg your pardon, I'm in haste to unrig.  Sir Fran. 
Hear me a moment, you have seen my frailties, if like Heaven you can forgive, a truer penitent or a more constant votary no cruel Virgin ever found.  Mrs. B. 
Have a care of the dull road: Sir Francis, Farewell.  (Exit. Sir Fran. 
Go thy ways for a pretty witty agreeable Creature, but if I should seduce her into Matrimony, I fear the common fate will attend her Beauty, quickly tarnish and good humour vanish.  (Exit. Enter Spendall and Lywell. Spend. 
Ha, Lywell! I am the happiest man alive, almost out of Fortune's Power.  Lyw. 
What is't transports you so? some whim, some Chemical delusion, that will fail in the projection, and vanish into Air.  Spend. 
Hear me and then with admiration, be dumb; nor dare to contradict my wit, or Plots again: In short, my Lady Beauclair and Miss, are in open Rebellion by my persuasion, and to Complete my good Fortune, I have borrowed ten Guineas of Sir Charles, with the help of which, I'll be married to his Daughter in-Law, within these two hours.  Lyw. 
Ha! I begin to think the Devil has left playing at Leger de main with thee: and having secured thee, resolves to bestow some of this World's wealth upon thee.  Spend. 
Canst not thou procure a Templer's Chamber for an hour or two; and appear with the Gravity of a long Robe?  Lyw. 
With ease, I know a young Spark that has fine Lodgings there; but by his old Father is kept at short allowance; a Treat or a very small sum will engage that, and all his habiliments.  Spend. 
Canst thou not put on the grave look of a starched Councillor.  Lyw. 
Hum! hum!— I'll speak with you immediately— you see, Friend, I'm busy— How was that—  Spend. 
Pretty well. Come; about it presently, and I'll bring the Ladies to you, as my Father's chief Lawyer. Be sure you tell 'em, you have the settlement of his Estate upon me in your hands, and seem very desirous I should do well.  Lyw. 
I warrant ye, and shan't we have lusty treats, old Boy?  Spend. 
I thought your Conscience had scrupled the proceedings.  Lyw. 
O'Pox, my Conscience never tsoubles me, but when Affairs go ill.  Spend. 
Well, make haste, and doubt not feasting: I must to my Charge, lest they cool 〈◊〉 Fools are seldom long resolved, and I know a finer Fellow would get both Mother and Daughter's heart; They're now in a kindly growing warmth, and the old one's Imagination tickled as much with thoughts of darling Peggy's Marriage, as ever 'twas with her own, Farewell! be sine you observe your directions.  Lyw. 
It shall be done, dear lucky Devil (Coughs) Hum, hum, I shall be perfect in a Grave Cough; and a hum, of business, by that time you come to my Chamber.  Spend. 
Hold! for I had forgot— Whereabouts is this Chamber? for I guess your Worship's Name is not so famous to direct.  Lyw. 
Come, as we go along I'll tell you.  [Exeunt. Enter Arabella meeting Engenia. Arab. 
So my dear deliverer, how have you succeeded?  Eug. 
Oh, Madam, the poor 'Squire's frighted out of the little wit he had, one Scene more, and the Day's our own.  Arab 
What 's become of Mr. Beaumont?  Eug. 
He's about some earnest business of Sir Charles Beauclair's, I know not what 'tis, but there's a heavy Clutter amongst 'em  Arab. 
Well, you brought me to the Lady's Lodging, but I believe that's the only place she is not to be found at, for I have waited in vain with much impatience to see her.  Eug. 
Her Footman's below, and says she'll be here immediately.  Arab. 
Prithee let's into the Chamber first, and you shall give an Account of the 'Squire's fright?  Eug. 
I follow you, Madam.  (Exeunt. SCENE, Sir Charles Beauclair's House. Enter Sir Charles. Sir Char. 
Sure the World's all running mad; or else resolved to make me so; at home I cannot meet with a sensible Answer; but— Oh, what touches nearest, the Dear, the cruel, the charming Maid; Bellinda will not see me how shall I appease the offended fair, my Wife too not returned; where will this end?— Gentil! Eugenia! James.  
Within. Sir.  Sir Char. 
Sir;— Where, ye everlasting Dormice? will none come near me?  [Exit Enter Cheatall and Gentil. Cheat. 
Gadzooks! This Councillor Cobblecase has talked Law, and drank Claret with me, till my brains are turned topsy-turvy. Gad, I would not have my Lady-Sister see me now for a King's Ransom, Tho'— udsbores! I know not why she should, because she's a little older, set her eternal Clack a running upon all my Actions.  Gent. 
Sir, my Lady and Miss are both abroad.  Cheat. 
That's well!— Why, Gentil! here Cobblecase advises me not to look up the young woman, but to use her kindly, and, Gadzooks! I'm in a plaguy loving humour— I'll try her good nature once again— Hold— yonder comes Sir Charles— My Sister will never forgive me, if I let him see her; He's a well spoken man, if I durst trust him, he should solicit for me, but then he's so woundy handsome, and so amorous, I doubt he'd speak one word for me, and two for himself; as the saying is.  Enter Sir Charles Beauclair, talking to Eugenia. Sir Char. 
You say— you will not injure thee 'Squire.  Eug. 
No, not in the least-she hath sworn never to marry him, and the Law will in time recover her right: Only this way is sooner and cheaper.  Sir Char. 
The Lady's free, and I'll neither oppose or assist it further— Ha●… there he stands, how is't Brother?  Cheat. 
Very well, I thank you, Sir Charles'.  Sir Char. 
Your Servant.  [is going Cheat. 
Brother, you never care for my Company! you take me for a Nump-Scull; a half-witted Fellow, and, udsbores, would you but ha' me to the Tavern, you should find, I could Drink my G'ass, Break my Jest, Kiss my Mistress with the best of ye— Flesh! Try old Barnaby Cheatall, at your next Jovial meeting.  Sir Char. 
You're merry, Sir— But I'm in haste.  (Exit. Cheat. 
Udsbores! Women and Wine (both Unwholesome) Punish ye— There's a Taste of my Wit in my Cursing, as the whole Cargo o' the Bullies lies in swearing— There 'tis again, I faith! Am not I damnable Ingenious, Gentil? Live and Learn, Sirrah, and be Hanged, and forget all, as the saying is— what a Dickins ails me! Hanging never comes in my Mouth, but a Qualm comes o'er my Stomach— That cursed old Woman! Didst observe how she looked like the Witch, before the last new Ballad?  Gent. 
She had indeed, a very Prophetic Face.  One knocks, Gentil opens the Door— Beaumond Enters, Dressed like a Seaman. Gent. 
Who would you speak with, Sir?  Beau. 
With Mrs. Arabella Venturewell.  Gent. 
She's not here.  Beau. 
Now, by the Cannon's Fire, 'tis false— I have come ten Thousand Leagues to see her— and will not be so answered.  Cheat. 
A terrible Fellow! Gadzooks,— Pray, Sir, what's your business with her?  Beau. 
She's my Sister; that's sufficient for your Impertinence.  Cheat. 
You, the Lawful Begotten Son of Sir George Venturewell, begging your Pardon, I believe you are mistaken, Friend, in your Father, as many a man may be; for Sir George had never any but this Daughter.  Beau. 
No, I 'm not his Lawful begotten Son, not the weak offspring of—  Cheat. 
O Lard! what pains he takes to tell me he's the Son of a Whore?  Beau. 
Born in India; Bred a Bucanier: Sword and Fire have been my play-Fellows, and Ravishing my Pleasure— In far distant Worlds I have scattered my rough Image, and as my Sword has cut off their dull Breed, so my vigorous youth has left a Race of future Hero's.  Cheat 
A very terrible Fellow, as I hope for mercy?  Beau. 
Rich with the spoils of long successful War, I have visited this Climate in search of Arabella, whom I have often heard my Father mention with much tenderness, I am directed hither— Therefore do not raise my Fury with delays For Cause, or not Cause, if I am Angry, Blood must appease it.  Cheat. 
O Lard! O Lard! what shall I do? He'll fright me into a Kentish Ague: I must speak him fair— Good Sir, all your desires shall be fulfilled, have but a minute's patience. Come along, Gentil, come along, and help me, entreat her to speak him fair, or I'm a lost man!  
— I'll wait upon ye in a Twinkling, Sir.  (Exit with Gentil. Beaum. 
It works as I could wish, it goes against me to terrify this Fool so much, but he deserves it.  Enter Cheatall and Gentil. Cheat. 
Oh! Gentil! what shall I say.  Gent. 
The Lord knows, I don't.  Beau. 
Well, Sir, where's my Sister?  Cheat. 
Alas! I think she's vanished.  Beau. 
How! d'ye trifle with my Anger, bring me stories sit for a Baby! Blood and Thunder! if I Unsheathe my Sword, it finds a Scabbard in your Guts! Confess— or by the Cannon's fire.—  Cheat. 
I do confess, that thinking of your coming, and knowing her to be a little wild, lest she should have been out of the way, I locked her up— But what is now become of her, by the Cannon's fire, the dreadfullest Oath I ever heard! I cannot tell.  Beau. 
(aside) I shall never hold laughing.  Enter Eugenia. Eug. 
Oh! my Conscience!— My tortured Conscience!— I cannot keep it!  Beau. 
What's the matter?  Eugen. 
Oh! I went into the Room, where the Lady was locked up: And there's at least a Pail full of blood— all the Water in the Sea will never wash the stains out— I believe 'Squire Barnaby and Gentil have killed her, cut her to pieces, and carried her away under their Cloaks.  Cheat. 
Oh! Impudence! O Lard! O Lard! Sir, I han't the heart to kill a Chicken! I always swoon at the sight of my own Blood: speak Gentil, why thou hast never a Cloak— That's a strong proof, Sir— Gentil has ne'er a Cloak.  Eug. 
Why then it went all under yours— Besides, Gentil has a large pair of Trowsers; that I'll swear— For you made him bring my Lady home half a Venison Pastry in 'em, (Shrieks out.) Ah! look o' their Shoes, they have Padled in it.  Beau. 
Ay, 'tis so, and so I'll be Revenged— Cut thee small as the first Atoms that huddled up thy senseless Carcase— nor will I be troubled to bear thee hence, but stamp thy vile Clay to its kindred Dust, and leave thee here for Rubbish?  Cheat. 
Oh, Sir, upon my knees I beg you'd hear me.  Eug. 
(interposing) Hold, Sir, don't kill the Miscreant, that will bring yourself into trouble; Our Law will hang him, I warrant ye. What made him order her (being here) to be denied.  Cheat. 
Ay, Good Sir, let me be hanged! That's my Destiny! I see there's no avoiding it— Gentil— Beg I may be hanged.  Gent. 
Pray, Sir, let my Master be hanged.  Beau. 
Well, I'll try your Law— if that fails, this, I'm sure never will. How must we proceed, Madam?  (putteth up his Sword Eug. 
I'll go with ye for a Man, with the Staff of Authority, he shall order him— The very Stones in the Street would turn Constables, to seize such a Monster— Kill a pretty Lady— and cut her to pieces— oh horrid!  Cheat. 
You are a lying Whore! if I durst tell you so?  (aside. Beau. 
You Fellow! come hither.  Cheat. 
Run, Gentil, run— Proffer him all I'm worth.  Beau. 
(aside to Gentil) When we are gone; carry him to my Lodgings; I have told my Landlady the story, and she's provided for him.  Gent. 
It shall be done— Is there no mercy?  Cheat. 
Ah, Lord, no mercy.  Beau. 
Well! we'll be with you immediately— Come, Madam.  Eug. 
Ay, ay, repent and pray, do 'Squire, do.  (Exit cum Beau. Cheat. 
Oh Gentille! That ever I was born! That ever I was born!— What did he say to thee, Gentil?  Gent. 
He would have had me turned evidence against your Worship, and confess— But I'll be hanged first?  Cheat. 
I'd confess, if I thought 'twould do me any good?  Gent. 
What! Confess you murdered her!  Cheat 
Ay, any thing! any thing! any thing— Oh Gentil! it must be this Witch— she has carried her away, and spilled the blood, that her Prophecy might come to pass?  Gent. 
Not unlikely,— Sir, Sir, I have thought of a thing.—  Cheat. 
What is't, dear Gentil?  Gent. 
Suppose you and I run away, before the Constable come, I know a Friend will conceal you, and then we may hope to make it up, or hear of her— I can't think she's murdered.  Cheat. 
Nor I neither, except the Devil has done't? But let's away, good Gentil— methinks I hear this Magistrate's paw,— this Constable just behind me, his voice hoarse with Watching, and swallowing Claret Bribes— Oh, Gentil! if I should fall into his Gripe!  Gent. 
Therefore let's hasten to avoid it— Ah, Sir, this is no time for Jesting.  Cheat. 
Too true, Gentil, but wit will o'erflow! I fear I shall quibble in my Prayers, and die with a Jest in my mouth— Come, come! Hanged! O Lard, any of the Family of the Cheatalls hanged! O Lard, and I the only branch on't? Oh, Gentil, 'tis unsupportable.  Gent. 
Away, away, Sir.  Cheat. 
Oh that over I should live to see myself hanged.  (Exeunt. SCENE changes to a Chamber in the Temple. Enter Lywel in a Gown. Lyw. 
So! I'm equipped: the young Lawyer snapped at the Guineas, and has furnished me throughout, nay, left his Boy to boot; Gad, I believe he'll be famous in his Generation, he encourages Mischief so readily. Pox!— would they would come— I'm weary of Cook upon Littleton.  Enter Boy. Boy. 
Sir, Sir,— a Gentleman and two Ladies are coming up.  Lyw. 
'Tis they— you know your Cue.  Enter Spendall, Lady Beauclair, and Mrs. Peggy. Spend. 
Youngman, is Councillor Smart within?  Boy. 
Sir, he's dispatching some half a score Clients, but he'll do that with a wet Finger, and wait on you immediately.  Spend. 
A witty Whoreson; what, a wet Finger to lick up the Gold, ha!— Well, tell him I'm here.  Boy. 
Yes, Sir.  (Exit. Peg. 
Fine Chambers, Mother! and a fine place, I'll swear! 〈◊〉 Vather would ne'er let me walk here, zed, ' twaned sit for young Ladies.— I'll vaw, I like it waundily.  La. Beau. 
Here were Councillors not unfit for you, but Husband was never free you should be seen.  Spend. 
Now I'm, by Promise, the happy man: my charming Dear, let me beg you'd entertain no other Thoughts.— Where's this Lawyer?— a Moment's delay seems an Age.  (Exit Spendall. La. Beauc. 
Well, Daughter, feel how my Heart beats; I'm almost afraid to venture on him for thee.  Peg. 
Don't tell me of your Fears,— now you've put a Husband in my Head, I will be married, so I will.  La. Beauc. 
Ah! send thee good Luck! I shall fall in a Fit, I believe, whilst thou art marrying.  Peg. 
I fear not marrying, not I  Enter Spendall and Lywell. Lyw. 
Well, Sir, I understand the business.— Your Father, considering your Extravagance, has done more than I thought sit to tell ye; but after such a Proposal, you may hear it all— What! this is the pretty Creature, I suppose, you are about marrying.  Peg. 
Yes, Sir.  La. Beauc. 
Lord, Peggy, you're too forward! I wonder on ye now:— Sir, she is my Daughter, and she'll be worth Eight thousand pounds, and a better Penny; I would not have her cast away, Sir.  Lyw. 
To be thrown into a young Gentleman's Arms with a great Estate, will be a good Cast, I take it, Madam.  La. Beauc. 
If I were satisfied in that!  Lyw. 
Look ye, Madam, I am a man of business, and many words are but supersluous.— Hum! hogh! D'ye see, here's the Settlement of his Father's Estate— Eight hundred pounds a Year, and some Thousands in Money, a well-made Fellow into the bargain: Let me tell ye, Madam, such Offers don't stick o' hand now a-days; you may read the Writings if you please; if you dislike 'em— look ye, I have a Match in my Eye for the Gentleman beyond your Daughters; tho', I must own, this young Lady is much handsomer.  Peg. 
(aside to her Mother) D'ye hear what he says now! you'll never leave your Impartinence, as Vather calls it,— Pray be quiet; I'm satisfied, so I am.  Law. 
Will you read 'em, Madam?  La. Beauc. 
(reads) Noverint, etc.— Nay, Sir, I don't understand lay,— But you look like a good honest man, Sir, and I dare take your Word; I wish you had seen my Daughter sooner.  Spend. 
(aside) Well said, Mother-in-law— that is to be in love with every new Face.— I must secure the young one, lest she's of the same mind.  (Goes to Mrs. Peggy. La. Beauc. 
I'd willingly have him keep his Coach and six— I think the young Woman's Face will bear it— and their Estates, I hope.  Lyw. 
No doubt on't, Madam,— a handsome Wife, and a Coach and six, How it attracts all Eyes,— the Envy or the Wonder of the Park.  Spend. 
Well, you may do what you please, but the dear one and I are agreed.— we'll to Church without ye, if ye dispute it any longer.  Peg. 
Ay, and so we will, I vow and swear, Mr. Spendall.  La. Beauc. 
For shame, what d'ye talk on! why, 'tis past the Cannick hour.  Spend. 
Madam, all People of Quality marry at Night.  Lyw. 
That they may be sure to go to Bed, before they repent; a day's consideration might take off their Appetite.  La. Beauc. 
Nay, if People of Quality do it, I'm for ye.  Peg. 
And so I am, I vow and swear.  Lyw. 
First, Ladies, be pleased to visit my withdrawing Room, I have Sweetmeats and Trinkets there fit for the Fair sex, which secures me Female Visitants.  Spend. 
Agreed, we'll plunder him.  Lyw. 
Then we will seek to join this amorous Pair,  
And drown in Pleasure Thoughts of future Care.  [Exeunt. Enter Flywife, pulling in Mrs. Flywife. Mr. Flyw. 
Come, prithee Puggy, do.—  Mrs. Flyw. 
I'm not in humour.  Mr. Flyw. 
What, don't you love none, Fubby?  Mrs. Flyw. 
I hate Mankind, would they were in one consuming blaze, tho'I were in the midst of 'em.  (flying from him, and Exit. Mr. Flyw. 
Hum, a consuming blaze; what's the matter now? this is some damned Intrigue has gone cross: I heard her bid Jenny come into this Room, and she'd be with her: That's a Quean, I dare swear, at the bottom; I'll creep behind the Hangings and here their Discourse.  (Exit. Enter Mrs. Flywife and Jenny. Mrs. Flyw. 
To be tricked thus by a Boy, a Booby; sure this will humble the damned Opinion I have of my own Wit, and make me confess to myself, at least, I am a Fool.  Jenn. 
Ay, your Ladyship was pleased to say, I might pass for his Nurse. Indeed I believe he has had as good Instructors, for I find he's old enough to be too cunning for his Benefactress.  Mrs. Flyw. 
What did he say when you parted?  Jen. 
Madam, I have told you several times; I no sooner showed him the House, but he leapt back and seemed surprised; then recovering himself, he said, he would follow me in: I, according to your Directions, watched carefully, but no pretty Master came: Nothing vexes me so much, as that the little dissembling Sharper should get the Ring.  Mrs. Flyw. 
Pish, I don't value the Trifle three farthings; what's my doting Keeper good for, unless it be to give me more? But to lose the tempting Youth!  Jen. 
Pray add Sir Francis Wildlove's Loss to't:  Mrs. Flyw. 
Peace, Fool; I'm thinking why the House should startle him; ha! is not here a sine Woman lodges, much retired, that seems of Quality?  Jen. 
Yes, Madam; I never saw her but once, she's a perfect Charmer.  Mrs. Flyw. 
It must be so; this is some perdu Devil of hers, that durst not venture in, for fear his Constancy should be suspected: Pray watch who comes to her, dog 'em, do something for my ease.  Jen. 
Madam, I will.  Mrs. Flyw. 
Get me a Hackney-coach, I'll range the Town over, but I'll find Sir Francis Wildlove.  Jen. 
My Master will be mad.  Mrs. Flyw. 
Then he may be sober again, better he mad than I; if he be angry, 'tis but dissembling a little nauseous fondness, and all's well again.  [Exeunt. Re-enter Mr. Flywife. Flyw. 
Is it so, thou worst Offspring of thy Grannam Eve? but I'll stifle my Rage, lest without further Proof she wheedles me into a Reconciliation, take another Coach and follow her, catch her amongst her Comrades, without the possibility of an Excuse, cut her Windpipe, and send her to Hell, without the possibility of a Reprieve: Damn her, damn her.  (Exit. SCENE, Bellinda's Apartment. Enter Bellinda. Bel. 
The little hurry of my quick Remove has took up all my Thoughts, and I have not considered what I am about. See him no more, him whom I could not live a day, an hour, without! No more behold his Eyeballs, tremble with respectful passion!— Hear no more the soft falling Accents of his charming Tongue! view him dying at my feet no more!— O Virtue! take me to thee; chase from my struggling Soul all this fond tenderness: Secure me now, and I'm thy Votary for ever.  Enter Beaumond. Beaum. 
Madam, neglecting even my Love, I come to wait on your Commands.  Bel. 
Such Thanks as an indiscreet and wretched Woman can return are yours: What said Sir Charles?  Beaum. 
He received the Message as Wretches that are afraid to die, hear the condemning Voice, or as the Brave the loss of Victory, or the Ambitious that of Crowns: He begs, that he may haste to plead his Cause, and seems to live alone upon the Hopes his Love and Innocence may alter your Resolves.  Bel. 
O stop him, Sir, some moments longer, till I am just ready to be gone. He has a Friend too powerful within, and I must fly, or I shall never overcome.  Beaum. 
I'll prevent his coming till you send. Your Servant, Madam.  [Exit. Bel. 
Honour and Love, oh the torture to think they are domestic foes, that must destroy the Heart that harbours 'em! Had my Glass but been my Idol, my Mind loose, unconstant, wavering, like my Sex, than I might have 'scap'd these pangs; Love, as passing Meteors, with several fires just warms their Breasts, and vanishes, leaving no killing Pain behind, 'tis only foolish: I have made a God of my Desire greater than ever the Poets feigned: My Eyes received no Pleasure but what his sight gave me; no Music charmed my Ears, but his dear Voice: Wracks, Gibbets, and Dungeons, can they equal losing all my Soul admires? Why named I them? Can there be greater Wracks  
Than what despairing parting Lovers find,  
To part when both are true, both would be kind?  
The End of the fourth Act.   

ACT V.  SCENE, Bellinda's Apartment. Enter Bellinda. Bell. 
HE comes, keep back, full Eyes, the springing Tears!— and thou poor trembling Heart! now be manned with all thy strongest stoutest Resolutions; there will be need.  Enter Sir Charles. Sir Cham 
Ah! whither shall I throw me? what shall I say?— Mariam hangs like icicles upon my Tongue, but Bellinda flows: Oh Bellinda!— I charge thee by that dear Name, hear and pity me.  Bell. 
(coldly) What would you say?  Sir Cham 
Why nothing; I do not know that Voice, it has stopped the rising words, and I must only answer with my sighs.  Bell. 
Sir Charles, we have both been punished with unwarrantable Love.  Sir Cham 
Punished! Have we been punished?— Now, by all my Woes to come, by all my Transports past, all thought of my Bellinda, there's not a Pang, a Groan, but brought: its pleasure with it: Oh! 'tis happier far to sigh for thee, than to have enjoyed another.  Bell. 
You interrupt me when I just begin,— Grant it true,— we might have lived till weary grown of one another, till you, perhaps, might coldly say, I had a Mistress.— Now to part, when at the mention of each other's Name our Hearts will rise, our Eyes run o'er, 'tis better much than living to indifferency, which Time and Age would certainly have brought.  Sir Cham 
Oh, never, never; tho' the Bauble gaudy Beauty die, yet Sense and Humour still remain— on that I should have doted.  Bell. 
You cannot guests your future by your present Thoughts; or, if you could, I am not to be moved forsaking thee; and when I have said that, I need not add all Pleasures,— in remote and unfrequented shades I'll pass my solitary hours, and like a Recluse, waste the remalnder of my wretched days.  Sir Cham 
And am I the Cause of this melancholy penance? Must my unhappy Love rob the World of its fairest Ornament? No, Madam, stay and enjoin me what you please; condemn my Tongue to everlasting silence; let me now and then but gaze, and tell you with my Eyes what's acting in my Heart; or— if you will retire, permit me to follow, under the pretence of hunting; the Air, a thousand things I can invent, create new Friendship, caress the whole Country o'er, to have an opportunity of seeing you, though at a hateful distance, and surrounded by severost Friends.  Bell. 
Ha! is this the awful Love, I thought possessed ye? How fatally I was mistaken! What! pursue me to my Father's House! fix on my Name a lasting Blot, a Deathless Infamy, pollute my Native Air with unhallowed Love, where all my Ancestors have, for Ages, flourished, and left an honest Fragrancy behind! Mark me, Sir, you know I do not use to break my word.— If by Letters, Messages, or the least appearance (tho' cautiously, as Treasons plotted against the State) you approach me, I'll fly the Kingdom, or, if that's too little, the World.  Sir Cham 
No, 'tis I have been mistaken.— Now, by all the Wracks I feel, not worth a Sigh, a parting drop; no Regard of Tenderness, no Beam of Pity, from those dear Eyes, nor sidelong Glance to view my sad Distraction! Methinks you have already left me, and I am got amongst my Fellow Madmen, tearing my Hair, chained to the Ground, foaming, and digging up the Earth, yet in every smallest Interval of Sense calling on Bellinda.  Bell. 
A noble Birth, a censorious World, a mourning Father, all plead against thee. Oh, talk no more, lest you force my Hand to some desperate Act; and yet your Words pierce my Bosom with greater pain than pointed Steel.  Sir Char. 
I see you are resolved on my Undoing, fixed like my relentless Fate; therefore I'll not urge another syllable, but quietly, as dying Men when Hope's all past, quit Life and their dearest Friends, for ever, ever leave thee.  Bell. 
That sad silent Look discovers such inward Worlds of Woe, it strikes me through, staggers my best Resolves, removes the Props I have been raising for my sinking Fame, and, blind with passion, I could reel into thy Arms.— Tell me, on what are thy Thoughts employed?  Sir Char. 
On the Curse of Life, imposed on us without our Choice, and almost always attended with tormenting Plagues.  Bell. 
Yet we may meet again, in Peace and Joy, when this Gigantic Honour appears no Bugbear, and our Desires lawfully be crowned.— It is a guilty Thought; nor shall I ever dare to form it to a Wish.  Sir Cham 
But dost thou think we may? [embracing her.]  
What! uncontrolled clasp thee thus! Oh, Ecstasy! with wild Fury run o'er each trembling beauteous Limb, and grasp thee as drowning Men the dear Bark from whence they were thrown.  Bell 
Away, away! What are we doing? Divide him, Heaven, from my fond guilty Eyes; set Seas, and Earth, and Worlds of Fire between us, for Virtue, Fate, and Honour, with an united Cry, have doomed, that we must meet no more.  (Exit. Sir Cham 
To raging Seas, Sieges, and Fields of Battle will I fly, Pleasures and Pastimes to the Woes I feel. Oh, Bellinda!  (Exit. SCENE Changes. Enter Gentil. Gent. 
I could laugh my Heart sore, to see what a condition the Fool my Master's in; every knocking at the Door is as good as a Dose of Rhubarb, and every Noise makes him leap like a Vaulter. Ha! he's coming, the poor Baby dares not be alone.  (Cheatall, peeping.) Cheat. 
Gentil! Is the Coast clear?  Gen. 
Yes, Sir.  Cheat. 
Oh Gentil!  Gen. 
What's the matter? You look worse frighted than you were.  Cheat. 
Ay, and well I may; you leave me alone, and I shall grow distracted: I have I have seen a Ghost.  Gen. 
A Ghost! what, Mrs. Arabella's Ghost?  Cheat. 
Nay, I did not stay to examine that; for, as soon as ever I perceived the Glimpse on't, I shut up my Eyes, and felt my way out of the Chamber.  Gen. 
Where was this Ghost, Sir?  Cheat. 
Oh! behind the Bed, behind the Bed, Gentil.  Gen. 
Lord, Sir, 'twas nothing but the Cloak; I hung it there.  Cheat. 
Was it not? O' my Conscience, I thought it had been a Giant of a Ghost.— Hark, hark! what's that?  [he starts. (A Cry without, seeming at a distance. Boy without. 
A full and true Relation of a horrid and bloody Murder, committed on the Body of Mrs. Arabella Venturewell, a young Lady, by one 'Squire Barnaby Cheatall and his Man Gentil; showing how they locked her up in the dark, then cut her to pieces, and carried the pieces away under their Cloaks, and threw 'em into Chelsey-Reach, where, at low Water, they were f●…d.  Cheat. 
O Lard! O Lard! the pieces found, Gentil!  Gen. 
So it seems, Sir.  Boy. 
(seeming farther off) A full and true Relation of a, etc.  Cheat. 
Nay, now we shall be hanged for certain; not the least Hopes: Oh! oh! oh!  (Crying. Gen. 
Come, Sir, have a little Courage.  Cheat. 
To confess the truth to thee, I never had any Courage in my Life; and this would make the stoutest man tremble: Oh!  Gen. 
I am thinking, Sir,— why— we was not at Chelsey-Reach that day.  Cheat. 
No, no; but, may be, they'll swear we was.  Gen. 
My Lady and Miss hated her,— sure they han't been so barbarous.  Cheat. 
Like enough,— pin-up Petticoats are as convenient as Cloaks,— besides, my Sister is a Fury; I've heard her threaten pulling Folks a pieces a hundred times, and now she has done't.— We'll e'en peach.  Gen. 
What, your own Sister!  Cheat. 
Ay, my own Mother, to save myself:— I say, we'll peach.  Gen. 
That's not so good, for if they prove themselves innocent, 'twill fall upon us again.— Hark ye, Sir, there's only Eugenia can witness against us,— suppose we tried to stifle her Evidence with a swingeing Bribe; I never knew a Chambermaid refuse greasing in the Fist upon any Account.  Cheat. 
My dear Gentil,— if she inclines, my Offers shall be so large, that for the rest of her Life she shall have nothing to do, but study to make her Hands white, that she may burn all her Frippery, and be able to spark it with Quality.  Gen. 
Sir, I ll send her Propositions.  Cheat. 
(half draws his Sword) Do, but if the stubborn Jade won't comply, appoint a private meeting, and stop her Mouth with this— 〈◊〉 you understand me.  Gen. 
Yes, Sir.  (Aside. 
I find his Conscience would swallow a real Murder.— Sir, if you please, we'll go in and write what you design to offer her.  Cheat. 
Let us. If you meet her, Gentil, and she's surly,— Remember,— ugh,— ugh.  (Half draws his Sword. [Exeunt. Enter Sir Francis Wildlove, and to him Searchwell. Searchw. 
Sir Charles sends you word, he is ba●…e ordering his Affairs, designing with all speed to travel, and says, he shall never see you more, only to take his leave.  Sir Fran. 
hay day! O' my Conscience, this charming little Beauclair has me under a Spell, and I shall meet with nothing but Disappointments till I submit to her.  Searchw. 
Ay, Sir, you would soon find the true Pleasures of virtuous Love, and a satisfaction in denying your Appetite.  Sir Fran. 
Preaching Fool, hold you your Peace.  Enter a Servant. Seru. 
Sir, a Gentlewoman below desires to speak with you.  Searchw. 
(aside) So, there's no great danger my Master should Reform, when the Devil is always at hand with a Temptation in Petticoats.  Sir Fran. 
Searchwell, wait on the Lady up.  Searchw. 
Ah Lord!  Sir Fran. 
Sirrah, I shall break your Head, if you don't leave this canting trade.  Searchw. 
I am gone, Sir.  (Exit, and Reenters with Mrs. Dresswell. Dressw. 
(aside) This is a mad Message my Lady has sent me with to her Lover; I'm afraid he'll kick me for my News; hang't, he's a Gentleman, and I'll venture.  Sir Fran. 
Ha! pretty Mrs. Dreswell, this is a favour I never received from you before; Must I own the Blessing only to your goodwill, or is my Happiness greater? Did your Lady send?  Mrs. Dressw. 
I came from my Lady, Sir, but what Happiness you'll find I know not; methinks she has done a strange mad thing.  Sir Fran. 
What's the matter?  Mrs. Dressw. 
She's married, sir.  Sir Fra. 
The Devil she is.  Mrs. Dressw. 
Even so: she said, those that she fancied cared not for her, therefore she resolved to bestow herself and Fortunes on a secret Lover, whom indeed her Ladyship owns she never valued, a Gentleman you know, sir, the worthy Mr. Spendall.  Sir Fran. 
(walks about enraged) Damnation! that Rake, Bully, Sharper! damn it, damn it.  Mrs. Dressw. 
Here's a Note where they are; she desires to see you.  Sir Fran. 
Tell her I esteem her so much, I'll cut the Rascal's Throat she has thought sit to call Husband; I'll do it, Madam, tho' I'm hanged at the Door; 'tis the only way I can express my Love to her now.  Mrs. Dressw. 
Would I were well gone; I'll tell her, sir.  [Exit. Sir Fran. 
Married! and to Spendall! Oh, that I could despise her: Ha! I find 'tis worse with me than I thought, what makes this gnaw my Heart so else? My fellow-Libertines will laugh to see me play the fool and kill myself: Oh, I could tear in piecemeal the Villain that betrayed her to endless Ruin.  Enter a Servant. Servant. 
Sir, there's another Lady, out of a Coach, coming up stairs.  Sir Fran. 
Blockhead, tell her I desire she would break her Neck down again, and oblige me in riding post to the Devil. My Coach there?  [Throws the fellow down. (Exit. Servant. 
O my Nose, my Nose; why what's the matter now? I thought I should have had a Reward for my News; and so I have, I think. O, my Nose.  Enter Mrs. Flywife. Mrs. Flyw. 
Where's Sir Francis? Did you tell him I was coming up?  Seru. 
Yes, and he says, you may go to the Devil, he has spoiled the Ornament of my face, and flung into his Coach stark mad.  Mrs Fly. 
Much of Passion shows much of Love, my Coach shall follow his, I'll not leave him so.  [Exit. SCENE changes. Enter Mrs. Beauclair, Dresswell and a Woman. Mrs. B. 
I must confess I am Fool enough to be pleased with Sir Francis's concern? But, Oh, my Uncle's troubles draws a veil upon my rising Joys, and damps all Mirth: Poor Bellinda! she sent a Note to tell me her Disorder was such, she could not see me; with much ado I have persuaded Sir Charles to come hither, for half an hour, and look into this unlucky piece of Matrimony.  Dress. 
Madam, they are coming.  Mrs. B. 
In, in, then?  (Exit. Enter Lady Beauclair, Spendall, Miss Peggy, Lywell. Lyw. 
Here give me a Glass of Wine, Mrs. Bride's long life, and lasting happiness.  M. Peg. 
Thank ye, Sir, give me a Glass, you.  Spend. 
To me, my Love?  M. Peg. 
Yes.  Spend. 
Yours, for ever.  (Drinks it oss. Lady B. 
Lard, Child, you'll drink too much Wine.  M. Peg. 
Pray be quiet, I'll drink what I please; I am Married now, why sure, I'll ha' none of your Tutor, I Cod, I'll long for every thing I see, shan't I, you?  Spend. 
ay, and have it too, my dear.  M. Peg. 
I Cod, I'll long for Green Pease at Christmas, so I will.  Lady B. 
My heart aches, this great concern has made me sick, give me a Glass.  M. Peg. 
I am Mother's own Daughter, faith I dare confess it now, I always used to be sick for a Glass of Wine, ho, ho?  Lady B. 
Sure the Wench is mad  (One knocks. Spend. 
Ha, dear Ladies go in, 'tis some body from Sir Charles, I believe, I would willingly speak with 'em first.  M. Peg. 
Ay, ay, let's go in, there's more Wine within.  Lady B. 
Be sure you make your Estate out plain.  Spend. 
Yes, yes, hark ye, Lywell, carry 'em out of Ear-shot, lest it should prove a Dunner.  Lyw. 
I warrant; Come Ladies, we'll in, and take a Bumper.  M. Peg. 
O lafoy, you make me so blush—  (Knocks again. Spend. 
Boy, open the door?  (Exeunt. Enter Sir Francis. Sir Fran. 
What, grown so great already, that I must wait half an hour for admittance.  Spend. 
(aside.) He is come from Sir Charles, I ll speak him fair: Sir Francis Wildlove, your very humble servant, I beg ten thousand Pardons.  Sir Fran. 
Keep your fawning, and bestow it on Fools; 'tis lost on me, and will be grossly answered. I tell ye, you are a Rascal.  Spend. 
Poverty makes many a man so, Sir  Sir Fran. 
A presuming Rascal do I not know thee for the dreg of humane kind, and shall thy detested Arms receive her Virgin Beauties; life of goodness, Soul of Honour, Wit, and Sweetness, the only Woman upon Earth I could have loved?  Spend. 
Sure you design to banter me: Soul of Wit, and Sweetness; the Devil might had her Sweetness for me. 'Twas her Money I married; faith, Sir Francis, I always took her for a Fool?  Sir Fran. 
Profaner! this last action only calls her Judgement in question, thy Death is Justice, first to deceive, and then abuse her, draw.  Spend. 
I will draw, tho', Gad, I would have sworn, never to have fought on this occasion.  Enter Mrs. Beauclair and Dresswell laughing. Mrs. B. 
Ha, ha, ha.  Dress. 
Ha, ha, ha.  Sir Fran. 
Nay, Madam, I'll not disturb your mirth, but be so calm to wish it may continue.  (putteth up his Sword. Spend. 
What's the meaning of all this? how came Mrs. Beauclair here?  Sir Fran. 
Are you not married to this Lady?  Spend. 
No such Honour was ever designed for me: Lard, Sir, I am married to Miss Peggy, Lady Beauclair's Daughter, my Fool's within, now I hope I may call her  Mrs. B. 
I 〈◊〉, Sir Francis, you Counterplotted me, knew the truth, and only acted this concern.  Sir Fran. 
No, by Heaven, nor perfectly my own heart, till this severe Trial searched it; did I dissemble, Madam, your sense would soon discover it, but by my Soul, I love you truly, and if you dare venture on me, my future life shall show how much I honour you.  Mrs. B. 
Can you then leave all the pretty City Wives, which a Man of your Parts and 〈◊〉, in a quarter of an hours siege, could overcome? In fine, all the charming variety of what was pretty, or agreeable in the whole Sex, and he confined? Oh, that's a hard word to me.  Sir Fran. 
With more delight than those surfc●…ing Joys (that always left a sting behind 'em) afforded.  Mrs. B. 
Well, Sir, if you can give me your heart, I can allow you great Liberties: but when we have played the Fool and married, don't you when you have been pleased abroad, come hear surly: let your looks be kind, your Conversation easy, and though I should know you have been with a Mistress, I'd meet you with a smile.  Sir Fran. 
When I forsake such Charms, for senseless mercenary Creatures, you shall correct me with the greatest punishment upon Earth, a frown.  Mrs. B. 
You'll fall into the Romantic stile, Sir Francis: Mr. Spendall, shan't we see your Bride?  Spend. 
Yes, Madam, and I hope your Ladyship will prove my Friend to Sir Charles.  Mrs. B. 
Ay, ay, we'll all speak for ye; had she missed ye, there was no great likelihood, as the case was, she would have done better.  Sir Fran. 
Where is the pretty Miss? pray conduct us to her.  Mrs. B. 
Sir Charles will be here presently, I long to hear my Aunt set out the greatness of the match.  Spend. 
This way, Sir.  (Exeunt. Enter Mr. Beaumond, Arabella and Engenia. Arab. 
Is this the House, Enge●…ia?  Eug. 
Yes, Madam.  Arab. 
Well, thou art a lucky Girl, to recover my Writings with such speed.  Eug. 
Madam, the 'Squire would have parted with a limb, if I had required it.  Beau. 
Madam, it was your promise, whenever you possessed your Fortune, (tho' I'm sure I never insisted on't) you would be mine.  Arab 
I have no occasion to break my word, Mr. Beaumond.  Beau. 
Then I am happy.  Arab. 
Mrs. Eugenia, will you inquire where these Bridefolks are?  Eug. 
See, Madam, they are coming.  Enter Lady Beauclair, Mrs. Beauclair, Miss Peggy, Sir Francis Wildlove, Spendall, Lywell. Arab. 
Will the 'Squire be here?  Eug. 
Yes, Madam, I told him of his Cousin's Marriage, and he seems pleased his Sister has been tricked.  Peg. 
Lard, you, what d'ye bring one to these folks, they'll do nothing but jeer us?  Spend. 
Oh, my dear, carry yourself civility, and every body will love ye.  Mrs. B. 
Sir Charles will be here presently to wish you Joy, Madam?  Lady B. 
So, than we shall have noise enough, but I'll be as loud as he, I'll warrant him.  Mrs. B. 
And louder too, or I'm mistaken.  Enter Sir Charles Beauclair. Sir Char. 
Niece, why have you dragged me to this unwilling Penance, if the Girl is ruined what is't to me? my thoughts are full of something else.  Mrs. B. 
My Uncle, my Father, and my Friend, yet these names do not express half my tenderness: The best of Guardians and of Men: pray change your thoughts of Travel, I'll study ten thousand things for your Diversion.  Sir Char. 
Not Angels Eloquence should alter me; I'll act the uneasy part no longer, that Woman, the bar to all my Happiness, by Heaven, she's not my Wife: 'tis true, the Ceremony of the Church has passed between us, but she knows I went no further.  Mrs. B. 
Stay then, and live asunder.  Sir Char. 
No; so, Madam, you've married your Daughter.  Lady B. 
Yes, what then? he has a good Estate, when his Father dies, beside the present settlement, and ready Mony.  Sir Char. 
Poor deluded Women! he has no Estate, nor Relation worth owning, Mr. Spendall, generous Charity induced me to relieve your wants, you have betrayed this young woman, but use her well— I have not much to say— I suppose they were both so willing, a very little pains effected the matter.  Lady B. 
How, Rascal! Devil! have ye married my Daughter— and have ye nothing, Sirrah?  Spend. 
Ask Mrs. Peggy that.  Peg. 
You make one laugh, I vow and swear.  Lady B. 
Beast! I don't mean so— But have ye no Estate, Sirrah?  Spend. 
No, faith, Madam, not I; my Wife has enough for us both, and what's matter.  Lady B. 
Oh, Dog! Come away, Peggy, we'll go to Doctor's Commons, and thou shalt be Divorced.  Peg. 
I won't be Divorced, I've got a Husband, and I don't care, I'll stay with him.  Spend. 
That's kindly said, and I engage you shan't repent it.  Lady B. 
Why Counsellor Smart, why Counsellor Smart, did not ye tell me—  Sir Fran. 
hay day, Counsellor Smart! why this is a Fellow many degrees worse than your new Son in-Law. Hearkye Friend, leave this Counterfeiting Trade— or you'll lose your Ears; Reform, as your Friend has done, and Marry.  Lyw. 
Hang him, Rogue: He's a Smock-faced Fellow, and Handsome: I shall do no good with the Women.  Spend. 
(aside) Go, be gone, Devil, don't disgrace me, I'll meet you at the old place.  [Exit. Lyw. Mrs. B. 
Look what a puff the old Lady's in— Aunt, you always said you'd match your Daughter yourself, you did not desire a cunninger head than your own.  Lady B. 
Well, Mrs. Flippant! I hope your mad tricks will bring you a Bastard home at last, and that will be worse.  Sir Char. 
Nay, Madam, spare my Niece: she ever was most repectful to you, till you abused her beyond all bearing.  Sir Fran. 
Mind not a mad Woman.  Enter Cheatall. Cheat. 
Your Servant Gentiles!— O Lafoy! Sister, I hear strange news, Cousin Peggy's married to a Sharper, a Rake, a Bully, they say! I told you so, I told you so! Gadzooks! you would not be warned.  Lady B. 
Well, Booby! what's that to you, underhead.  (strikes him. Cheat. 
Pox take your nasty Fist! you love sighting plaguily.  Lady B. 
Well, 'twas passion, you may excuse it, when you consider my afflictions— To make ye amends, I'll come live with you, and take care of your Estaté, and Mrs. Arabella's.  Cheat. 
No, no, don't mistake yourself, I'll be a stingy Cur no longer, but drink my Bottle freely, nor sneak out o' the Company without paying my Club, for fear of having my Pocket examined by you.  
O Lard! the Ghost! the Ghost.  (Seeing Arabella, runs behind Spendall. Spend. 
What, is the man mad?  Mrs. B. 
You don't understand the whim.  Arab. 
Come give me thy hand, old Boy, we'll be Friends; I am no Ghost, I assure ye.  Cheat. 
And— is not that the Hectoring Spark your Brother, with his monstrous whiskers pared?  Beau. 
Not her Brother, Sir, but one who hopes to pretend to the Lady, by another Title.  Cheat. 
Oh! I find how matters ha'been carried— Much good may d'ye with her— Gadzooks, she wasn't sit for me,— I'm a Fool, you know, Sister.  Arab. 
You must grant me one Request.  Cheat. 
What's that?  Arab. 
To forgive Gentil; he's going to be married to Eugenia, but shall have no Joys without your Pardon.  Cheat. 
Ay, ay, I forgive him, and leave his Wife to punish him; she has a Fruitful Invention, let him take care it does not one day fall upon his own head— Gentil! I am Friends; and will give thee something towards Housekeeping.  Gent. 
I thank you, Sir.  Eug. 
I'm sure, it went to my very heart to fright your Worship so.  Cheat. 
You are a wheedling Baggage; but 'tis all well, I'm contented.  Enter Mrs. Flywife, in a fright. Mrs. Flyw. 
O save me! save me! I'm pursued by a bloody-minded Monster.  Sir Fran. 
What's the matter? is it your Husband, Madam?  Mrs. Flyw. 
'Tis my Tyrant, the Devil 'tis.  Enter Flywife, his Hanger drawn. Cheat. 
Nay, hold ye, Mistress, don't ye run behind me; udsbores, so I may have the sword in my Guts by mistake.  Beau. 
We'll all protect the Lady.  Mr. Flyw. 
Protect! damnation; do but hear how vile a thing it is.  Cheat. 
Hear! what do I hear, and see! why, sure this is our Brother Allen, my Sister's first Husband, we thought dead in the Indies.  Sir Char. 
What's that? speak again, but speak a loud, lest I should only catch the sound of Happiness, and be deceived.  Mr. Flyw. 
Has my damned Jilt brought me to a greater plague, my Wife? but I'll own it to punish her, tho' I suffer an abominable torment till next fair wind, the Sea's my Element; once there, I'm free. Well, I confess I have found a Wife here. Why stare you so? I am not the first has thought the sight unpleasing.  Sir Char. 
No, no, talk on; all are hushed, as if a midnight silence reigned.  La. Beauc. 
Who's this? Are you my first Husband Allen? And did you pretend you was dead, rather than come home to me, Sirrah?  Mr. Flyw. 
Here's a sine greeting.  Mrs. Flyw. 
How! your Husband! he's mine before Heaven: Mr. Flywise, won't you own me. Fubby?  Mr. Flyw. 
In troth, I think there's scarce a Pin to choose; but you have disobliged me last, therefore avaunt, Strumpet, come hither, thou natural noisy Spouse.  Mrs. Flyw. 
That Shape and Face preferred to me?  La. Beauc. 
I'll be revenged of her, I'm resolved.  (Flies on her. Mrs. Beau. 
I'm all Amazement, Sir Francis; save the Lady, because she was my Friend; return her Ring, that may help console her.  Sir Fran. 
(parting 'em) Hold, Ladies, Ladies: March off, here's the bountiful Present; come, come, I doubt not but you've a private Pocket.  Mrs. Flyw. 
The Devil take you all.  (Exit. Mrs. Beaum. 
What Miracle is this? Madam, leave your passion, and explain it.  Mrs. Peg. 
Is my own Vather come again? O La.  Spend. 
Your own Vather come again! O Lafoy! Then, I fear, your Portion is not at your own dispose, Miss.  Mrs. Peg. 
Good Lord! does that disturb ye?  Mr. Flyw. 
Gentlemen, now your Wonder is a little over, pray let me ask why all this Company, and why that Gentleman, whom I know not, appears transported.  Sir Fran. 
I'll tell you, Sir; 'twas my hard Fate to marry your Lady, before your death was well confirmed, that kept it some time private, when, before we came together, a Quarrel, from her uneasy Temper, arose, and I swore never to bed her; yet, for our Friends and Conveniency's sake, we seemed to live like Man and Wife. Speak; Madam, is not this true?  La. Beauc. 
Yes, yes, 'tis true, the more shame for ye.  Sir Cham 
Here, Sir, receive her, and with her a new Date of Happiness.  Mr. Flyw. 
I guess my future Happiness by the past; but since it must be so—  Sir Cham 
Dear Niece, go to my House, and deliver up whatever is that Lady's.  Mrs. Beau. 
You'll send to Bellinda?  Sir Cham 
Myself, myself shall be the Messenger;  
In my eager Mind I'm already there:  
Methinks the Earth's enchanted, and I tread on Air.  (Exit. Mrs. Beau. 
So, there's one pleased, I'm sure.  Cheat. 
Well, Brother, you're welcome home, as I may say: Why, here's Cousin Peggy grown up and married since you went.  Mr. Flyw. 
What! Is that Bud come to the Blossom of Matrimony? all by the Mother's Contrivance; a wise business, I Believe. Sir, I shall make bold to examine into your Estate before I give my Daughter any.  Spend. 
Say ye so? and if you give your Daughter none, I shall prove a second Mr. Flywife.  Mrs. Peg. 
What's that, Boldface?  Spend. 
Nothing, Child.  La. Beauc. 
Ay, that's a hopeful Match; I could find in my Heart to lock myself up, and never see your ugly Faces again.  (Exit. Mrs. Beaum. 
Let's follow, and appease her.  Arab. 
And as we go, you shall tell me what makes Sir Charles thus overjoyed:  Mrs. Beaum. 
I will; and when we have done what he desired, we'll go all to Bellinda's, there we shall find my Uncle.  Sir Fran. 
Come, Beaumond, let's see the end of this surprising Accident.  Mr. Flyw. 
How like a Dog a Man looks once escaped!  
Forced back into the Matrimonial Noose;  
'Tis a damned Joy to find the Wife I'd lose.  Exit. SCENE, Bellinda's Apartment. On a Table lies her Hood and Scarf. 
Sure some unseen Power holds me a moment longer; ah! 'tis no Power, but foolish Love, that shows the paths which carries me from Beauclair, leading to Death, or, what's worse, Despair.  Enter Betty. Bett. 
Madam, the Coach is ready.  Bell. 
I'm coming, be sure you let none have admittance.  [Goes towards the Table. Bett. 
I will not, Madam.  Enter Sir Charles Beauclair. Bet. 
Oh, Sir! my Lady charged you should not enter.  Sir Cham 
Away, you Trifler; where's my Bellinda?  Bell. 
This is unmanly; not conquer your Desires, nor obey my positive Commands!  Sir Cham 
Oh, stay and hear me; let me hang upon your Knees, for I am out of breath, clasp and prattle o'er thee, like a glad Mother when she hugs her first-born Blessing after the pangs of Death; mine, like hers, is Folly all, but full of Fondness.  Bell. 
Oh:  Sir Cham 
Sigh not, my Fair; by Heaven I am free from any Chains but thine, free as thy own clear Soul's from Vice.  Bell. 
How! what mean ye? oh, rise, and stop my growing Fears, Where's your Wife? is she well?  Sir Cham 
Think not so basely of me, she's well, and in her Husband's Arms, oh, my Bellinda! in her Husband's Arms; her first and only Husband, Allen, is returned.  Bell. 
Forgetting all colder nicer forms, in thy faithful Bosom let me receive such News.  Sir Cham 
My Life.  Bell. 
My Soul. (embracing.  Sir Cham 
Ha! the transporting Joy has caught her Rosy Breath, and those bright Eyes are in their snowy Lids retired: Oh, this is more, much more than ten thousand words could have expressed. ' Wake, my Bellinda, 'tis thy Beauclair calls.  Bell. 
Do not view my blushing Face, I fear I have offended that Virgin Modesty by me still practised and adored; now we must stand on forms, till time and decency shall crown our Wishes.  Sir Cham 
My Goddess, Conqueress, by thee for ever I am directed.  Bell. 
I know thy honest Heart so well, I do not scruple the truth of what you have said.  Sir Cham 
You need not, Dearest; see, all our Friends come to confirm it.  Enter Sir Francis Wildlove, Beaumond, Cheatall, Mrs. Beauclair and Arabella. Mrs. Beauc. 
Joy to my dear Bellinda.  Arab. 
Permit a stranger to rejoice at the Reward of Virtue and constant Love.  Bell. 
Pardon my Answers, Ladies, when I confess I scarce know where I am.  Sir Cham 
Now I can mind the Affairs of my Friend; Sir Francis, I observe you very assiduous to my Niece, has she received you for her servant? and are you resolved on the truest Happiness, Constancy?  Sir Fran. 
Yes faith, Sir Charles, I am the Lady's Dog in a string, and have violent pantings towards the delicious Charmer; I hope she won't long defer my Desires: But let that black Gentleman I've so long dreaded do his worst, he shan't spoil my stomach.  Mrs. Beauc. 
Ah! those pantings, Sir Francis, I doubt they have moved your stomach so often, till they've quite took it away.  Sir Fran. 
A little forbearance, and such a tempting meal—  Sir Cham 
[too Mr. Beaumond] You, Sir, too are blessed; I read it in your Eyes, and see the Lady with ye.  Mr. Beaum. 
I fear no danger now, but dying of that pleasing Fever called Rapture.  Cheat. 
To any man's thinking, these now are going to Heaven ding dung: but hear me, Ladies; 'faith, all young handsome fellows talk just so before Matrimony: seven Years hence let me bear of Pantings, Heave, and Raptures; no, Gadzooks, scarce Risings then: I shall live a jolly Bachelor, and laugh at your Indifference, Gadzooks, I shall—  Mrs. Beau. 
Well said 'Squire; we would bring him along, Sir Charles, I think him very good-humoured to this Lady, and believe his Sister only made him otherwise.  Sir Cham 
I read in every Face a pleasing Joy, but you must give me leave to think that mine exceeds, raised to unexpected Worlds of Bliss, when sunk in Sorrows and Despair.  
Kind Fate, beyond my Hopes, the Weight removed,  
And gave me all, in giving her I loved.  (Exeunt.  
THE END.   

ERRATA.  
BY a mistake in the Copy, which was false Folioed, the Scene in Sir Charles Beauclair's House, Pag. 32, should have came in, in the latter part of the third Act, which ends with,  
Cheat. Oh, that ever I should live to see myself hanged.