THE Mulberry-Garden, A COMEDY. As it is Acted by His MAJESTIE'S SERVANTS: AT THE THEATRE-ROYAL.  
Written by the Honourable Sir CHARLES SIDLEY.  
LONDON, Printed for H. Herringman, at the Sign of the Blue Anchor in the Lower walk of the New Exchange. 1668.   

TO HER GRACE THE DUCHESS OF RICHMOND and LENOX.  
Madam,  
'tIs an unquestioned Privilege we Authors have of troubling whomsoever we please with an Epistle Dedicatory, as we call it, when we print a Play; Kings and Princes have never been able to exempt either themselves or their Favourites from our Persecution. I think your Grace (for a Person of so great Eminence, Beauty, Indulgence to Wit, and other Advantages that mark you out to suffer under Addresses of this Nature) has scaped very well hitherto. For I do not remember your Name yet made a Sanctuary to any of these Criminals: But, Madam, your time is come, and you must bear it patiently. All the favour I can show you, is that of a good Executioner, which is not to prolong your pain. You see, Madam, here the unhappiness of being born in our time, in which to that Virtue and Perfection▪ the Greeks and Romans would have given Temples 〈◊〉, the highest thing we dare dedicated, is a Play or name such Trifles. 〈◊〉 that I now offer to your Grace, you were so kind to when it was in loose Sheets, that by degrees you have trained it up to the confidence of appearing in Print before you: And I hope you will find it no hard matter to pardon a Presumption you have yourself been accessary to, especially in one that is entirely,  
MADAM, Your Graces Devoted and Obedient Servant, CHARLES' SIDLEY.   


Dramatis Personae.  
Sir john 〈◊〉.  
Sir Samuel Forecast.  
Harry Modish.  
Ned Ostrich.  
jack Wildish.  
Snappum.  
Eugenio.  
Philander.  
Horatio.  
Officer and Assistants.  
Servant to Sir Samuel Forecast.  
Musicians and Dancers.  
Prentices, and Sedan-men.  
Diana.  
〈…〉.    

Prologue.  
NEw Poets (like fresh Beauties come to Town)  
Have all that are decay 〈◊〉 cry 'em down,  
All that are envious, or that have writ ill:  
For Wits and Heroes fain would during, kill.  
Like Statesmen in disgrace, they ill endure  
A better conduct should our good procure:  
As an old Sinner, who in's youth has known  
Most Women bad, dares venture upon none.  
Our Author, seeing here the Fate of Plays,  
The dangerous Rocks upon the Coast of Praise,  
The cruel Critic and malicious Wit,  
Who think themselves undone if a Play hit:  
And like those Wretches who on shipwrecks thrive,  
Rage if the Vessel do the Storm outlive,  
By others loss he 〈…〉,  
But against tempting hope no man is armed:  
Amongst great Gamesters, when deep play is seen,  
Few that have money but at last come in:  
He has known many with a trifling sum,  
Into vast Fortunes by your favours run:  
This gives him confidence to try his Fate,  
And makes him hope he is not come too 〈◊〉  
If you'll undo him quite, like Rooks begin▪  
And for this once in cunning let him win.  
He hopes the Ladies at small faults will  
And a new Poet, a new Servant think.   

THE Mulberry Garden.  

ACT I.  

SCENE I.  Sir John Everyoungs House stands. Enter Sir John Everyoung, and Sir Samuel Forecast. Ever. 
WEll, for all this heat, let's every one  
Govern his own Family as he has a mind to't;  
I never vex myself that your Daughters  
Live shut up as if they were in Spain or Italy;  
Nor pray don't you trouble yourself that mine  
See Plays, Balls, and take their innocent Diversion,  
As the Custom of the Country, and their age requires.  Forec. 
They are my Nieces, as they are your Daughters,  
And I'll tell you, you spoil 'em with your own  
Examples: youth may well be allowed to be  
Stark mad, when they see age so Extravagant:  
Is that a Dress for my elder Brother, and a  
Reverend Justice?  Ever. 
Yes, and a properer than your little Cuffs,  
Black Cap, and Boots there, for a Gentleman.  Forec. 
Of Eighteen I confess, but not of Fifty.  Ever. 
Yes, though he were as old as any before  
The Flood; and for my part I'll not bate a Ribbon  
For all the whole Tribe of you can say: you know  
Yourself every Fool would fain be thought wise;  
And why an old man should not desire to be  
Thought young, I see no Reason: as long as  
I am whole at heart, I'm resolved my clothes  
Shall ne'er betray me.  Forec. 
There's no need on't, your face does it sufficiently;  
Come I'm ashamed to see you every day  
Set out thus powdered, and trimmed, like an old Player,  
To act a young Prince; your Periwig I like  
Very well, it serves to keep your bald pate warm,  
But that flirting Hat there looks as it were  
Made rather for your Wit than your Head.  
Pray which is most alamode, Right  
Reverend Spark?— Points, or Laces? Girdle,  
Or Shoulder-Belts? what say your Letters  
Out of France?  Ever. 
Lord, what pains you take to Quarrel  
At my Dress and Mirth, as if age were not  
Tedious enough already, but we  
Must add neglect of ourselves, and moroseness  
Toward others: Children now adays are  
Not so fond of their Parents, that we  
Need use any Art to make 'em hate us.  Fore. 
Well, go then, and carry your Daughters abroad,  
And break their Bellies with Syllabub, 'tis the  
Greatest kindness you can do 'em now;  
As you have bred 'em, you may e'en keep  
'Em to yourself, and save their Portions;  
I believe no body will be very fond of a  
Hyde-park Filly for a Wife; nor an old Boy  
That looks like a Pedlar's Pack for a Father-in-Law.  
But now I think on't, you are  
Such a Spark, they'd lose their Reputations  
With you if they had any.  Ever. 
For aught I see good Brother, they stand  
As fair in the opinion of the world as yours,  
And have done nothing but what I like very well.  Fore. 
What do you count it nothing, to be all  
Day abroad, to live more in their Coach  
Than at home, and if they chance to keep  
The House an Afternoon, to have the Yard  
Full of Sedans, the Hall full of Footmen  
And Pages, and their Chambers covered all over  
With Feathers and Ribbons, dancing and playing  
At Cards with 'em till morning.  Ever. 
Why, where's the hurt of all this?  Fore. 
O no hurt at all; but if they were my Daughters  
I should be looking for Cradles and Nurses,  
I should be sorry to hear Diana or Althaea  
Went abroad without some discreet body  
To look after them, or were at home indeed  
Without employing their time in some piece  
Of Housewifry, or at least some good Book.  Ever. 
You and I shall never hit it, for now I  
Think those women who have been least  
Used to Liberty, most apt to abuse it, when  
They come to't.  Fore. 
O this fine believing Gentleman, I should  
Laugh heartily to see him a Grandfather  
Without a Son-in-Law.  Enter to them Victoria and Olivia. Vict. 
Sir if you don't use the Coach yourself,  
My Sister and I would go abroad this Afternoon.  Ever. 
Take it Children, but don't keep the Horses  
Out too late.  Fore. 
What! never ask 'em whither they're  
Going? by your favour I'll put that Question  
To 'em; Come hither Victoria, what visits  
Do you intent this Afternoon?  Vict. 
None Sir, we were only going a Rambling.  Fore. 
A Rambling, methinks that word sounds  
Very prettily i'the mouth of a young Maid;  
Next time I ask 'em whither they're going,  
I believe they'I answer me, To drink  
A Bottle or two: but whither pray?  Olivia. 
For that Sir we shall take counsel of the weather,  
Either up into the City, or towards the Park.  Fore. 
What, none but you two?  Oliv. 
We intended to call on my Cousins  
Althaea and Diana.  Fore. 
They took Physic this morning, and  
Are not well, you'll but lose your labour.  Vict. 
Sir they sent for us but an hour ago.  Fore. 
You had better go without 'em, they  
Are all undressed, to stay for 'em would  
But make you lose the sweet of the Evening.  Ever. 
Brother, what are you jealous of them too?  
I assure you they are no men in womens' clothes.  Fore. 
I am not jealous of 'em, but since you'd  
Have it so, I'd as lief they'd keep away.  Ever. 
And I'd as lief you'd keep away, till you  
Understand yourself better; what? you  
Think your Daughters, like your Money,  
Never safe, but under Lock and Key; who  
Would you have 'em converse with, if not  
With their Relations?  Fore. 
With those that are a kin to 'em in manners  
And behaviour, such as they may learn  
Some goodness of; I see nothing they can  
Learn here but vanity.  Vict. 
Sister they begin to be angry, come  
Let's leave 'em till the storm be over.  [Exeunt. Fore. 
What are they gone? I warrant  
If we had been reading a Play, or Romance,  
We should not have been rid of 'em so  
Soon; but I'll spoil their sport at  
My House  Ever. 
A precious Design, and worthy of your  
Gravity! But, if you do Brother, I'll tell.  
You one thing, you'll go near to spoil  
A match at cross purposes: farewell.  [Exeunt.  

SCENE II.  Modish his Chamber. Enter Henry Modish and Ned Ostrich. Mod. 
Good morrow, Ned, I thought I had left you  
Too deep engaged last night to have been  
Here thus early.  Estr. 
Why you sneaked away just as the Sport  
Began, like a half-bred Cock that strikes  
A Stroke or two briskly, and then runs.  Mod. 
Faith, I had so many Irons in the fire for  
To day, I durst not run the hazard of  
A disorder last night: but you know  
My Heart was with you.  Estr. 
You would not have repented it, if your  
Whole Body and Soul had been with us; jack  
Wildish sent for a dozen more of Champagne  
And a Brace of such Girls, as we should have  
Made Honourable Love to, in any other  
Place; and Sir john Everyoung was in the  
Pleasantest Humour, I'd give a piece I  
Could repeat the satire he made of the Country.  Mod. 
It would be good News to his Daughters,  
For they say, now and then in a morning  
He is of another mind.  Estr. 
That's only while his head aches, they need  
Not fear him; he swears he'll ne'er stir  
Beyond Hyde-park or Colebys at farthest,  
As long as he has an Acre left, they shall  
All come to him: 'tis a pleasant old Fellow,  
He has given me a hundred pounds for my  
Grey beard, and is to ride himself this day  
Month twice round the Park, against a bay  
Stone-horse of Wildishes, for two hundred more.  Mod. 
Methought Wildish and you were very  
Intimate, pray how long have you been  
Acquainted?  Estr. 
Faith, about a week or so, times a thing only necessary  
For the Friendship of vulgar Spirits: O here comes  
The Gentleman we were speaking of; now jack,  Enter Wildish. 
What small Petticoat do you come from?  Wild. 
E'en such another as you are going to now  
With all this Bravery: those Cravats that design  
The Right Honourable, I'll lay a piece will be  
Rumpled by a worse Woman than they were  
Washed, yet afore night.  Mod. 
Would all the world were of his mind, we  
Young men should pass our time well.  Wild. 
O never the better for that; such Mounsieurs  
As you by your Feathers are known to be Birds  
Of prey, and though you catch nothing, you  
Scare all; Besides, every good man is not acquainted  
With this Principle among you, that you can be  
In Love with nothing but yourselves, and may  
Be jealous of his Wife, when indeed you come  
Innocently to take a view of your persons from  
Head to feet in the great Glass; comb out your  
Periwig, shake your Garnitures, and be gone.  Estr. 
What, dost think we have no other way  
Of Entertainment? No Discourse, jack?  Wild. 
Yes, a little now and then about their dress,  
Whether their Patches be too many or too few,  
Too great or too small, whether her Handkerchief  
Be Point de Veny or Rome; and having left behind  
You some proof of your ability in the Mode,  
Return to show yourselves at the last Act.  
Of a Play.  Mod. 
I dare swear, jack, thy Acquaintance puts  
Thee to none of these Critioisins, a plain Gorget.  
And a black Scarf are all their varieties; and  
Are you well Mistress? and what Company  
Have you kept lately? thy most familiar  
Questions. But Raillery apart. Say it were  
A man's Fortune to prevail upon one of these  
Thou believest so impregnable Forts, and to be  
Received where never any but yourself came  
So near as to be denied; were not that a  
Conquest?  Wild. 
As great as that of a place not tenible  
Can be; the present Plunder indeed is somewhat,  
But upon the first Siege you must look to be  
Driven out: a Lady's heart is a kind of Fortification  
That is easier surprised by being well maned,  
And makes ever the strongest resistance of itself.  Estr. 
'Tis true, Modish, for I have still observed,  
That when one of these persons of Honour  
Does a little forget herself, though at first  
Through a secret Sympathy, and invincible  
Inclination (as they call it) for one particular  
Man, she ever after loves the whole Sex the  
Better for it.  Wild. 
Right; for these good Creatures, Women,  
Are like Cats, if once made tame, any one  
May play with 'em; if not, there's no  
Coming near 'um.  Mod. 
Thou think'st thou hast mauled 'em now;  
Why I tell thee, jack, a Hector is not readier  
To pick a Quarrel with a saucy Creditor,  
And swear he will never pay the Rascal,  
Then a man is to have one with his Mistress  
Towards the latter end of an Amour; especially.  
If it amount to a handsome occasion of  
Leaving her, 'tis the kindest thing she can do  
Then: what think you, Ostrich?  Estr. 
Faith, I'm of your mind, yet I have known  
Some unconscionable Ladies make their  
Servants wait as long for a just Exception,  
And almost as impatiently, as they did for the  
First Favour.  Wild. 
Favour and Exception, Gentlemen, are words  
I done't meet with in seven years, where  
I go, my piece makes my Compliment  
When I come in, and my Excuse when I  
Go away; and 'tis ever well taken too:  
I have all the day to bestow upon my business,  
The night upon my Friends, whilst you are  
Kissing the Cards at Ombre, or presenting  
Oranges at a Playhouse.  Estr. 
Thou never knew'st it seems what 'twas  
To be in Love then.  Wild. 
No faith, I never let the Disease run on so far,  
I always took it in time, and then a Bottle  
Of Wine or two, and a she Friend is an approved  
Remedy; there are men in the world though,  
Who in that Distemper prescribe some  
Serious Employment, continual Exercise,  
Spare Diet, and the like; but they are Philosophers,  
And in my opinion make the Remedy worse than  
The Disease.  Estr. 
I do confess yours is the pleasantest Cure,  
If it be one; but I doubt it only gives a little  
Ease for the present, and like small Beer in the  
Morning after a merry bout over night,  
Doth but make us the worse afterwards.  Mod. 
I now, you talk to him of what he understands,  
What you do tell him of Love for? who by  
His own confession never knew what it was.  Wild. 
No, but I guess this same Love you speak  
Of, Gentlemen, to be much like Longing in  
Women, a fantastical appetite to some one  
Thing above all others, which if they cannot  
Get, the Lover miscarries of his passion,  
And the Lady of her little one; or if they do, are  
Both quickly satisfied, and it becomes for  
Ever after very indifferent, if not loathsome.  Estr. 
Well, Modish, I perceive we shall do no  
Good on him, let's take him to the Mulberry-Garden,  
and see what the Ladies can do.  Wild. 
You shall excuse me, I have a small  
Ramble of my own for an hour or two  
This Afternoon: and so your Servant.  [Exit. Mod. 
'Tis time we were going,  
I warrant they have walked every foot of  
The Garden, twice over by this time:  
They are mad to know, whether their  
Friends in Town have dealt faithfully  
With 'em of late, concerning the Mode.  Est. 
These Country Ladies for the first month  
Take up their places in the Mulberry Garden,  
As early as a Citizen's Wife at a new Play.  Mod. 
And for the most part are as easily discovered;  
They have always somewhat on, that is  
Just left off by the Better Sort.  Est. 
They are the Antipodes of the Court; for  
When a Fashion sets there, it rises  
Among them.  [Exeunt.  

SCENE III.  Enter Victoria and Olivia. Vict. 
Sister, whatever the 〈…〉  
We don't see half 〈…〉  
To meet here a-nights, 〈…〉  
In Town.  Oliv. 
'Tis true, but 〈…〉  
Walk at home 〈…〉  
Half a score young 〈…〉  
Well dressed, are a greater 〈…〉  
A Garden, than a Wilderness 〈…〉  
Orange, a Lemon 〈…〉  
Of rich Vests and Silk 〈…〉  
Music than the purling 〈…〉  
Chirping of Birds, or any of our Country  
Entertainments: and that 〈…〉  
Will afford us yet, 〈…〉  
Ar● done.  Vict. 
Sister, what would you give to see  
Ostrich come in now?  Oliv. 
'Tis impossible, he would not miss his  
Devotion to the Park, for all I could give,  
Such an Evening as this: besides the two  
Garnitures he brought out of France are  
Soiled, his Feather broke, and he has been  
So out of humour these two days, there's  
No enduring him; he lost his Money too  
Last night I hear; and losing Gamesters  
Are but ill company.  Vict. 
Fie Sister, you make him a saver with  
A look; and Fine, in but thinking he is so▪  
You deserve not so complete a Servant,  
But I hope you'll be as obliging to  
His face, as you are severe to him  
Behind his back.  Oliv. 
The only way to oblige most men  
Is to use 'em thus, a little 〈…〉  
Even to their faces, it gives 'em an  
Opinion of our wit; 〈…〉  
A Spur to theirs: the great pleasure  
Of Gaming were 〈…〉  
Another's hands; and 〈…〉  
Another's Heart's: there 〈…〉  
For good Play in the One, nor for Address  
In the Other 〈…〉  
Of both. But what would you 〈…〉  Vict. 
To see Horatio, 〈…〉  
I would all other's happiness 〈…〉  
But he is now another's▪ and 〈…〉  
Is not to nourish, 〈…〉  
I dare not hope my Capti●● 〈…〉  
So many Charms contribute to 〈…〉  
Althaea's Slave, let false 〈…〉  
Whilst I for freedom, 〈…〉  Oliv. 
Fie Sister, leave this 〈…〉  Enter to them Ostrich and Modish. Estr. 
Ladies, it is our wonder to find any body  
Here at this time of Day, and no less our  
Happiness to meet with you; all the world  
Is at the Park, where we had been our  
Selves, but that we saw your Livery  
At the Gate.  Vict. 
I pray let us not keep you here Gentlemen,  
Your Mistresses will curse us, and your  
Selves too, by and by, if the Garden should  
Not fill.  Est. 
If we wish any company, Ladies, 'tis for  
Your sakes, not our own.  Mod. 
For my part I would ne'er desire a  
Garden fuller than this is now; we  
Are two to two, and may be hand to  
Hand when you please.  Oliv. 
I don't know what you think▪ but in  
My mind the More the Merrler, especially  
In these places.  Est. 
ay, for show, Madam, but it happens in  
Great Companies, as at Feast, we see ●  
Great deal, and fall to heart'ly of nothing,  
And for the most part rise hungry: and 'tis  
With Lovers, Madam, as with great  
Bellied Women, if they find what they  
Long for, they care not whether there  
Be any thing else or no.  Vict. 
What in love 〈…〉  
This place is a great softner of men's hearts.  Mod. 
How can it choose, having so many  
Lovers sighs daily mixed 〈…〉  
A much better quality 〈…〉  
It could incline Ladies to believe, and look  
With pity on those flames they 〈◊〉.  Oliv. 
'Tis too early to 〈…〉  
Flames and Pity would 〈…〉  
In the Evening.  Mod. 
'Tis not with love, Madam, as with meaner  
Arguments; I might entertain you with  
My passion for an age, and yet have as  
Much left for anon, as if I had not  
Spoke one word; the Sea is easier emptied  
Then a Lover's breast.  Oliv. 
What say you, Sir, is this your opinion too?  Est. 
Yes faith, Madam, and I think a Lover can  
No more say at once, what he hath to  
Say to his Mistress, than a man can eat  
At once for his whole life time▪  Oliv. 
Nay, if it be so endless, I should beg of  
My Servant, when ever I have one,  
E'en to keep it to himself for altogether.  Est. 
There you betray your ignorance,  
With your pardon, Madam; to see the  
Fair Olivia, and not love her, is not  
More impossible, than to love her, and not  
Tell her on't. Silent Lovers you may read  
Of, and in Romances too, but Heavens  
Forbid you should e'er meet with any.  Oliv. 
If they knew how little they were like  
To get by being otherwise, I'm confident  
I should meet with none else.  Est. 
Well, Madam, I perceive Love, like Wine,  
Makes our Discourse seem extravagant  
To those that are not wound up to  
The same height: But had you any spark  
Of what I feel, I should have had  
Another Answer.  Oliv. 
Why, what Answer,  Est. 
Nay, I know not, but some pretty one,  
That love would have devised for you;  
No more to be imagined by you ●ow,  
Than what you shall talk of 〈◊〉  
In your sleep. 〈…〉  
Will you do us the honour to eat 〈◊〉?  Oliv. 
Sister, let's go, so they'll promise to say  
Nothing but what they think to us when  
We are there.  Mod. 
You may do what you please, Ned, but 'tis  
A liberty I dare not use myself to, for  
Fear of an ill habit.  Estr. 
You are very confident of our good opinion;  
Ladies; I believe there are few women  
In Town would accept of our Company  
On these terms.  Vict. 
Faith, Sister, let's bate 'em that circu●●●●  
Truth is a thing merely necessary for witnesses▪  
And Historians, and in these places doth out  
Curb invention, and spoil good Company;  
We will only confine 'em to what's  
Probable.  Mod. 
Content, and I dare swear 'twill be better  
For all Parties.  [Exeunt.  

SCENE IU.  Sir Samuel Forecasts House. Enter Alth●● and Diana. Diana. 
We two, or none, may of our Stars complain,  
Who afford us nothing to share but pain;  
Each bears her own, and th' others portion too;  
This cruel wonder can high friendship do.  Alth. 
To us how 〈…〉  
Since both had had what they on each bestowed!  
But yet thy loss I rate 〈◊〉 thy own▪  
Fate on thy Love till now did never frown▪  
Philander thee above the world did prize,  
Thy Parents saw him almost with thy Eyes:  
〈…〉  
This hour that promised all, can nothing pay,  
And Hymen steals his lighted Torch away.  Dian. 
Ah, dear Althaea▪ let not thou and I  
Contend who most exceeds in misery;  
It is a dismal strife, since were my own  
Lesle, I'd share thine till they were equal grown.  
Curse on Ambition, why should Honour take  
A present back again, that Love did make?  
On thee Eugenio did his Life bestow,  
To me Phila●● his Service vow;  
Yet both for 〈◊〉 have those ties despised,  
And now are 〈◊〉 must be sacrificed.  
Unkind Philan●●, had Love filled thy breast  
With half those flames thou hast so oft expressed,  
They had consumed in their purer fires  
All other thoughts, and thou wouldst never mind,  
Who were for Kings, and who for Slaves designed.  Alth. 
The noble sense they show of the sad Fate  
Of their dear Country, sets a higher rate  
Upon their Love; for who that had a grain  
Of Honour in him, could endure the Reign  
Of proud Usurpers, whose 〈◊〉 will,  
Is all the Law by which men spare or kill;  
And his true Prince in Banishment behold,  
Worthy of more than Fortune can withhold;  
These monstrous with the crimes of prosperous Fate,  
The other shining in his adverse State,  
So that each stroke of Fortune does but seem  
A step for his Heroic mind to climb,  
Till he has got above her reach, and then  
The Virtue she has tried she I love agen●  
Though I must truly mouth their ill success,  
I could not wish Eugenio had done less.  Dian. 
Had their high Virtue the least doubt endured,  
Even with their death it had been cheaply cured:  
But this brave Act is but to me and you,  
A dangerous proof of what before we knew.  Alth. 
Though their true worth to us before were clear,  
This Act has made it to the world appear;  
None ever with that obstinacy loved,  
But they were pleased to see their choice approved:  
No joy complete to worthy minds can seem,  
Which is not heightened by the world's esteem.  Dian. 
My heart, Althaea, does less grieve it has  
Ventured its treasure in so loved a cause,  
Then that Philander did not let me know  
The danger he was like to undergo.  Alth. 
Sister, though Laws of Decency 〈◊〉  
We shining Swords and glittering Armour 〈◊〉  
Yet a decision of what's right or wrong,  
As well as men's, does to our minds belong;  
And we best show it when we most approve  
Those men that fight in Quarrels which we love:  
Though they of Courage have the ruder part,  
The Virtue may become a woman's heart,  
Though not 〈…〉  
Expose her Love, sure for her 〈…〉  
I knew Eugenio must that 〈…〉,  
Nor could consent he should the danger shun;  
And had Philander 〈…〉  
He without 〈…〉  Dian. 
I must confess 〈…〉  
That he again should 〈…〉  
Let me the greatness of your mind admire,  
Whilst I deplore the greatness of my 〈◊〉,  
A fire which lends 〈…〉  
To show how much what I 〈…〉  
How much he hazards 〈…〉  
From venturing him 〈…〉  
Whose danger had known, my Eyes, alas!  
Had wept a Sea, he would have feared to pass;  
But we so long of 〈…〉  
As if no further mischief did remain,  
〈…〉  
And all the Arrows from her Quiver sent.  Alth. 
When Fate would harm where Virtue does protect,  
She does her guilt and impotence detect;  
She can but rob the Virtuous of that rest,  
She must restore, again with interest  
And all the danger of these Heroes past,  
Must needs consider their high worth at last.  Dian. 
What we desire, how fain we would believe,  
And wish that Fortune knew not to deceive?  
But she profusely to 〈◊〉 presents makes,  
And as unjudge 〈◊〉 some others takes.  
I fear she's 〈…〉 worth in debt,  
She'll 〈…〉 use the wholes too great:  
Like 〈…〉 her Bounties still appear,  
Who give 〈◊〉 that they from many tear.  Alth. 
In the mean time I fear our cruel friends  
Will not consult our liking, but their ends;  
I know they'll press I should Horatio wed,  
And promise thee unto some Stranger's bed.  Dian. 
They may such Matches as they please provide,  
But here I vow, I'll never he, a Bride  
To any but Philander; in that Heart  
He taught to love, none else shall have apart.  Alth. 
I the like Vow to my 〈…〉  
Which Fates worst malice 〈…〉  
As Trees exposed to Storms 〈…〉  
Than those that do in peaceful 〈…〉  
So in all Noble minds, a virtuous Love  
By opposition does the firmer prove  Dian. 
'Tis fit, Althes, I now take my leave,  
Whilst you prepare Horatio to receive,  Alth. 
Farewell, Diana, and be sure you do  
Nothing unworthy of your Love and Vow.  Exeunt Diana and 〈…〉   

ACT II.  

SCENE I.  Enter Sir Samuel Forecast, Althaea, 〈◊〉 Wildish, and Olivia. Fore. 
DAughter, we are much beholding 〈◊〉  
The Portion I can give with 〈◊〉  
Deserve a man of past half his Fortune;  
Six thousand pounds a year, an Estate well 〈◊〉  
Wooded, and I am told very improveable,  
It makes me young again to think on't:  
Eugenio I never liked, and as things stand  
Now, am right glad we had no more to do  
With him; But that I am one whose  
Affection and good will to the State has sufficiently  
Manifested itself, I might be thought  
To have a hand in their Design, and so have  
Been put in the Tower, and had my Fortune  
Seized on: Eugenio shall never call a  
Child of mine, Wife, as long as  
I live.  Wild. 
But, Sir, your zeal to the Cause has put  
You above those apprehensions.  Fore. 
You say right, Mr. Wildish, but we ●●not,  
Be in this case too secure; and I am resolved▪  
Althaea, to take off all suspicion, shall out  
Of hand marry with Horatio.  Alth. 
Sir, I hope you will allow me some  
Time to dismiss Eugenio from my thoughts.  Wild. 
And, pray Sir, what prejudice, what  
Exception have you to Eugenio?  Fore. 
Originally this only, his Father made a  
Purchase of some Land, that lay next hedge,  
To mine, and gave a thousand pounds more  
Than it was worth, only to buy it over my head:  
Think no more on him upon my blessing,  
He is not the man he was; he had an Estate,  
'Tis now sequestered, he dare not show his  
Head; and besides, I would not have a Son-in-  
Law of his principles, for six times his fortune;  
I should be sorry to see any Child of mine  
Soliciting her Husband's Composition at  
A Committee.  Alth. 
Had 〈◊〉 had the relation of a Wife  
To Eugenio, 〈◊〉 have thought nothing  
A trouble the 〈◊〉 become my Duty, and  
Could as oh●● 〈◊〉 have shared an honourable  
Suffering, as the most flourishing condition.  Fore. 
I charge you never receive visit, or  
Message from him more, and tell your Sister  
Diana, 'tis my pleasure she quit all  
Correspondence with Philander.  
They are both dangerous persons.  [Turns to Wildish. 
These young Wenches, Mr. Wildish, have less  
Forecast than Pigeons, so they be billing, they  
Look no farther; ne'er think of building their  
Nests, nor what shall become of their little ones.  Wild. 
Sir, I think they're i'th' right, let 'em increase  
And multiply, and for the rest, trust him that set  
'Em a work.  Fore. 
Mr. Wildish you are a merry Gentleman, but  
I'll tell you, Mrs. Althaea, as I have given you  
Life, I'll take care you shan't make it miserable.  Alth. 
Sir, the happiness of life lies not in wealth, in  
Title, or in show, but in the mind, which is not to  
Be forced, and we are not the less slaves for being  
Bound in Chains of Gold: A marriage with  
Horatio may make me appear happy to the  
Envious world, but like those destructive  
Arts, which, while they seem to ●id, consume  
Our native Beauties, indeed must prey upon  
My inward peace.  Fore. 
I'll warrant you peace within, and without too;  Horatio 
is a well natured proper Gentleman,  
And one that loves you.  Wild. 
Now there Sir Samuel I'm on your side,  
For so the Fan be played with, the hand kissed;  
In fine, the passion handsomely discharged, 'tis  
No great matter who does it. As Children  
Cry after their old Nurses, but till they  
Are acquainted with their new: so young  
Lady's regret the loss of one Servant, but  
Till they have got the same familiarity  
With another; which, by the way, is seldom  
Long first.  Enter a Servant. Seru. 
Sir, there's a man out of Paternoster  
Row with Stuffs.  Fore. 
Bid him carry 'em into the next Room.  
Come Althaea, let's in and look upon 'um.  [Ex. Althaea, and Sir Samuel. Manent Wildish and Olivia. Oliv. 
We Women are ever sure of your good  
Word, Mr. Wildish; when you have a Mistress,  
I hope she'll deserve it from you in particular,  
And have in perfection all those good qualities  
You so liberally bestow upon the whole Sex, in  
Your Discourse.  Wild. 
Why, Madam, I thought you had understood  
Raillery; faith I have so good an opinion of the Sex  
I am ashamed to own it but to one of them in  
Private; this is only the way of talking I have  
Got among my Companions, where when we  
Meet over a Bottle of Wine, 'tis held as great  
A part of wit to rallee women handsomely behind  
Their back, as to flatter 'em to their Faces.  Oliv. 
But why do you make us poor women the  
Subject of your mirth?  Wild. 
You are grown of late so uncharitable and  
Villainous hard-hearted, are encompassed with so  
Many difficulties, as decency, honour, and 〈◊〉  
That we men that love our pleasure, begin to  
Hate you worse than Beggars do a Coach with  
The Glasses drawn up, despair of Relief, and fall,  
A Railing.  Oliv. 
And if some kindhearted wretch do chance  
To relieve one of you, like Beggars you tell it  
Presently, 〈◊〉 and more; I warrant you're fine  
Fellows, a 〈◊〉 is well helped up,  
That has 〈◊〉 you to her Servant.  Wild. 
Nay don't put me in among 'em, I am a  
Mere Apostate, though not resolute enough  
To endure the Martyrdoms of being continually  
Laughed at by half a score of 'em: all that I  
Have done of late, has been mere compliance,  
As Papists go to Church for fear of the penalty.  Oliv. 
Pray, Sir, to what fair Saint do we owe your  
Conversion?  Wild. 
Faith there are many in the World now would  
Make you guess this half hour, telling you  
First the colour of her hair, her age, her  
Country, and perhaps the first Letter of her name;  
But I hate that way of fooling— 'tis your  
Self— whom I love.  Oliv. 
Impudent fellow! done't you expect I should  
Forbid you the house, or at least, for punishment  
Of such rudeness, condemn your guilty passion  
To eternal silence and despair? what! men  
Have lived years in Deserts for their mistress's  
Sake, and yet have trembled when they spoke  
Of love; which you venture at with as  
Little Ceremony, as you'd ask me how I  
Slept last night.  Wild. 
I know not what Romances order in  
This case, I ●●ere thought it would be mine▪  
And so ha'n't much studied it: but prithee don't  
Balk a young Beginner; 'tis my first fault, and  
So beened too severe, I shall relapse else  
Beyond Redemption:  Oliv. 
Well, I'm content for once your ignorance  
Should plead your pardon.  Wild. 
Nay Mrs. Olivia consider me a little further;  
I have lost the pleasures of mirth, of Wine,  
And Company; all things that were before  
Delightful to me are no longer so; my  
Life is grown but one continued Thought of  
Your fair self: and is a pardon all that I  
Must hope for?  Oliv. 
Come, leave your fooling, your old humour does  
Better with you, a thousand times, than this  
Whining Love. As there are some Perfumes  
So strong, that they lose that name with  
Most: So Compliments may be so gross, that  
They become injurious.  Wild. 
Why here's it now; there are so many cheats  
In this Trade of Love too, that like Beggars, the  
The true go unrelieved, because we meet with now  
And then a counterfeit; on my life Mrs. Olivia  
The plenty I have ever lived in, puts me  
As much out of countenance to ask a Charity  
Of this kind, as I could be, should Fortune constrain  
Me, to entreat one of the other; and would not  
Trouble you could my pain admit redress  
From any but yourself.  Oliv. 
Sure, Mr. Wildish, you would think I had  
An excellent opinion of myself, or an implicit  
Faith in whatever you say, should I believe  
All this now.  Wild. 
If I told a Chirurgeon, I had broke my leg,  
Do you think he would not take my word?  Oliv. 
Yes sure.  Rild. 
Why should not you take it then for a wounded  
Heart? they are neither of 'em matters to  
Brag on; and I would no more lead the life  
Of a Lover if I were free, than I would  
That of a sick man if I were well.  Oliv. 
Methinks the sick men, as you call 'em,  
Live so like the well, as one can scarce know  
One from th'other.  Wild. 
In your Chamber, perhaps; but abroad we  
Find a thousand differences.  Oliv. 
As how, I pray?  Wild. 
Why, your true Lover leaves all Company  
When the Sport begins, the Table when the Bottles  
Are called for, the Gaming-house when the  
Cards come up; is more afraid of an Engagement,  
Than a Lawyer in Termtime;  
Would less miss the last Act of a Play, the Park,  
Or indeed any abominable old Ladies,  
Where he may hope to see the party, than  
A young Wench can Grayes-Inn-walks, the  
First Sunday of her new Gown.  Oliv. 
What is this all?  Wild. 
Not half: ask him to sup, he has business;  
Or if he promise, 'tis ten to one he fails, and  
If he sees his Mistress, is so transported, that  
He forgets to send his Excuse; if he cannot  
Find her, and so chance to keep his word,  
Sits in such dismal Dumps, that he spoils  
The whole Company.  Oliv. 
And will you be such an Animal for my sake?  Wild. 
Faith I'm afraid so, but if not well used,  
I shall find the way home again.  Oliv. 
Whatever you think, Sir, I shall contribute  
No more to the keeping you my Servant,  
Then I did to the making you so.  Wild. 
Well, do but use as proper means to keep  
Me your Servant, as you have done to make  
Me so, and I am satisfied.  Oliv. 
Why, what means?  Wild. 
As your Beauty bred my Affection,  
So let your kindness nourish it.  Oliv. 
Mr. Wildish, you have been so pleasant  
Upon this new Argument, that I had  
Almost forgot my Visit to Diana.  Wild. 
I'm upon equal terms with you there;  
For I have made Ned Ostrich and Harry  
Modish stay this half hour for me  
At the French House: and so your Servant.  [Exeunt:  

SCENE II.  Enter Althaea. Alth. 
Under what Tyranny are Women born!  
Here we are bid to love, and there to scorn;  
As if unfit to be allowed a part  
In choosing him, that must have all our heart;  
Or that our liking, like a headstrong beast,  
Were made for nothing, but to be oppressed;  
And below them, in this regard we are,  
We may not fly the cruelty we fear.  
The Horse may shake the Rider from his back,  
The Dog his hated Master may forsake;  
Yet nothing of their native worth impair,  
Nor any conscious sting about them bear.  
But if a Virgin an Escape contrive,  
She must for ever in dishonour live,  
Condemned within herself, despised of all,  
Into worse mischiefs than she fled from, fall.  
Duty commands I should Horatio wed,  
Love does as strongly for Eugenio plead;  
My mind, distracted thus, a storm abides  
Like Seas, when winds blow full against their Tides.  Enter Horatio. Hora. 
Madam, methinks you look not pleased; I fear  
My hapless passion did too late appear  
For my content; and only now can prove  
The wretched Triumph of some elder Love.  
But, fair Althaea, you were much to blame  
With your own breath to blow a hopeless flame.  
Ah! had you to its Childhood been severe,  
As now to its full growth you cruel are,  
'Thad died with half that pain it now must bear:  
Young Plants with ease up by the Roots we tear;  
But when well grown, the A● must be employed,  
And they with force and labour are destroyed.  Alth. 
Generous Horatio, forbear to blame  
Me, as the cruel Author of your pain.  
How could I know that you my Lover were,  
Until yourself your passion did declare?  
How had it looked in me to have complained  
Of thoughts, perhaps, you never entertained?  
How could I check, alas, those hopes in you,  
Your Heart did never harbour, that I knew?  Hora. 
Not know, Althaea! why should the same eyes  
So slowly see, so suddenly surprise?  
The very minute I beheld your face,  
You might in mine my growing passion trace,  
Now trembling fear did her pale colour spread,  
Then springing hope brought back the ●●ative red:  
Joy may be seen, and grief itself unfold,  
And so may love, though it be never told.  
In every look my passion was confessed,  
And every action my high flame expressed.  
As foolish Witnesses them Cause o'erthrow,  
My Arts to hide it, did it clearer show.  Alth. 
But as fond Parents will not seen to know  
A fault they needs must punish when they do;  
So I at first was loath to see a crime  
In one, I otherwise did so esteem:  
For know, Horatio, setting Love apart,  
None then yourself is deeper in my Heart;  
Your worth and honour I can value, though  
I no requital to your flame allow.  Hora. 
You can give all things else above their due,  
And yet wrong that which most belongs to you:  
Madam, these words, sooth with a cruel art  
Where I less feel, and wound a mortal part;  
With friendship and esteem you strive in vain,  
Kind Maid, to ease a Lover of his pain:  
For where your Beauty once has raised a flame,  
To offer less, and nothing, are the same.  
Love and Ambition of their aim denied,  
No other way can e'er be satisfied.  Alth. 
You that could faithless to Victoria prove,  
Methinks should blush even at the name of Love.  
Her numerous Charms your loud accusers are,  
And call Horatio false, as she is fair.  Hora. 
You should with pity, not displeasure see  
The change that your own self creates in me.  
The Roman Senate had their greatness worn  
Perhaps till now, had Caesar ne'er been born.  
Darius' self could not his Persians blame,  
Because that Alexander overcame.  
In Love like War, some Victor still there grows,  
Whose spreading Empire nothing can oppose.  Alth. 
Country's are fixed, and cannot fly, although  
They apprehend a certain overthrow.  
Lovers, the force they can't oppose, might shun,  
And may with safety and with honour run.  
Who then would pity him that stays to die,  
When Virtue and his Duty bid him fly?  Hora. 
Althaea, In Love's wars all Heroes are,  
Death does less terrible than flight appear;  
As Gamesters, when they lose, still deeper set,  
Helping ill Fortune to increase their debt:  
So Lovers, when a Nymph gets half their heart,  
Themselves, alas, betray the other part.  Alth. 
Victoria's wrongs my gratitude deter;  
Your gifts to me are robberies from her.  Hora. 
I came at first, Althaea, 'tis most true  
With Love to her, and but Respect to you,  
But, ah! how soon within my tortured breast  
You of each others place are possessed.  Alth. 
Beauty, the wrongs of Beauty should revenge,  
And the fair punish, when the faithless change.  Hora. 
I change Althaea, but (as pious men  
Become blessed Saints) never to change again.  
If none your matchless Beauty must adore,  
But such alone as never loved before,  
You do unjustly, and too high advance  
In Love th'already too great power of chance:  
Since that you should their first affection be,  
Let's you their Fortune, not their passion see.  Alth. 
It lets me see they falsehood never knew.  
And gives me leave to hope they will be true.  Hora. 
Sure none can faithless to such Beauty prove▪  
He that's in Heaven, can no higher move.  Alth. 
A Lover's Heaven in his Fancy lies,  
Which Beauty oft neglects, and oft supplies.  Hora. 
'Tis not, Althaea, that you question mine,  
But 'tis Eugenio's faith does brighter shine;  
'Tis he that makes Victoria's wrong your pain,  
My Love a Crime, a Virtue your disdain.  
These tales of falsehood, and of former Love,  
Reproaches only, where we like not, prove.  Alth. 
Horatio, I am glad your disrespect  
Has turned so soon to Justice my neglect:  
You that reproach me with a former Love,  
Yourself unfit but for my anger prove.  [Exit Althaea. Hora. 
O stay a while I sure you must joy to see  
The torture you're so pleased to work in me;  
Not that I hope I shall your pity find,  
But that the sight may glut your cruel mind.  
Nature inconstant to her own designs,  
To a fair form a cruel temper joins;  
She makes the heedless Lover kneel in vain,  
And in Love's Temple, to adore Disdain.  [Exit Horatio. Enter Sir Samuel Forecast and Jack Wildish. Fore. 
When am I to see your fair and wealthy  
Cousin, Mr. Wildish?  Wild. 
This minute if you please, Sir.  Fore. 
I doubt you are not stirring in the business,  
You do not lay the necessity of marrying  
Home enough to her: I might have got  
Access ere now else, and our Counsel  
Have been drawing the Writings.  Wild. 
It must be done by degrees: if I should  
Have been too forward, it might have  
Caused in her a suspicion of my purpose,  
And so my worthy Friend Sir Samuel have  
Come to her upon some prejudice,  
Which I would not for half her Fortune.  Fore. 
Pray, Mr. Wildish, is she so concerned for  
Her late Husband as the world talks?  Wild. 
Ten times more; looks upon his Picture  
All day long, as earnestly as if she were  
To copy it; since he died, has used no Pocket-  
Handkerchers, but what was made of his old Shirts,  
And wets two a day of 'em with her tears;  
Because he died on a Monday, fasts that day  
Of the week; takes none into her Service  
But Thomases, because 'twas his Christian  
Name, and has now sent into Wales for a  
Thomas ap Thomas to be her Gentleman-usher.  Fore. 
'Tis strange she should so affect his name!  
What think you then, if you called me  
Sir Thomas Forecast?  Wild. 
Faith, Sir, what you please; but I think  
It will be altogether needless, and if she should,  
Come to discover, it might spoil all, ● light,  
She might mistrust your particular, if she  
Should find you put a trick upon her in  
Your name.  Fore. 
Well, I'll be ruled by you, Mr. Wildish,  
You know her humour best.  Wild. 
I can't but think how she'll look upon  
Me when I talk to her of another Husband;  
But I'll venture, Sir 〈…〉  
Come let's away, her House is here hard by.  [They enter the Widow's house Wild. 
I show the way, Sir.  [They find her looking upon her Husband's Picture, and does not see 'um. Fore. 
Excellent woman, she sees us not! O the  
Endless treasure of a virtuous Wife!  
It extends even to our memories, and  
Pictures.  [Wildish goes up, and speaks to her Wild. 
Madam, here is Sir Samuel Forecast  
Come to wait on you.  Wid. 
Sir, I hope you'll pardon me, if I have  
Let my grief employ any part of that time  
Which was due to my acknowledgement for  
This favour; you were my Husband's friend,  
And as such will ever be most welcome to me;  
And though his too scrupulous kindness allowed  
Me not the acquaintance, scarce the sight of  
Any man; yet I did always place a value  
Where he gave his esteem; especially,  
So highly as he did to you.  Fore. 
Madam, I am much bound to you for your  
Good opinion, and come to condole with you:  
Your Husband was an honest, prudent, and a  
Wealthy Gentleman, kept good hours, and even  
Reckonings, loved me well, and we have drank  
Many a Dish of Coffee together.  Wid. 
Sir, whilst you repeat his virtues, you do  
But count my loss, and telling me how good  
He was, makes me but more sensibly want him.  Fore. 
He and I were just of an age, and when  
We were Boys, of a strength.  Wid. 
And what of that, Sir?  Wild. 
Why, Cousin it makes me think that Sir  
Samuel would make as loving a Husband  
To you, as your last was, and 〈…〉  
Troubles me heartily to see my 〈…〉  
Here not yet out of danger of smooth-fact  
Younger Brothers, such as marry Wives only  
To keep Wenches, and never bring 'em to Town  
But to pass away some part of their Estates.  Fore. 
Some such there are; but Heaven bless the  
Estate, and Widow of my good Friend your  
Husband out of such hands.  Wid. 
Now I have brought you together,  
I'll leave you; Cousin, you are not afraid to  
Be left alone with Sir Samuel?  [Exit. Wid. 
I know his Virtue, and my own too well.  Fore. 
Don't you find, Madam, business very troublesome?  Wid. 
I do indeed, and have the misfortune to be  
Involved in it.  Fore. 
Have you many Lawsuits?  Wid. 
But one considerable, which being with  
A man in power, in these corrupt times,  
A Woman unfriended and unknown as I am,  
Must expect to lose.  Fore. 
Of what value?  Wid. 
Five thousand pounds: I shall have enough  
Left however, to make me happy with a man  
That loves me.  Fore. 
Enough left! such another word would  
Make me foreswear, not only thee but thy  
Whole Sex; five thousand pounds well disposed,  
Why I tell thee, 'tis able to procure us Judgements  
On half the young Prodigals of this Age▪ thou  
And I might live comfortably on the forbearance  
Money, and let the Interest run on.  Wid. 
I did but put the worst, not that I doubt my  
Title, if I have common Justice.  Fore. 
No, thou shalt secure thy 〈◊〉, I am a  
Near Kinsman to the Judge, and a by way to  
His favour.  Wid. 
How do you mean?  Fore. 
Why I have many times bought a thousand  
pounds' worth of other men's 〈…〉  
For a hundred.  Wid. 
I would not corrupt Justice for a world.  Fore. 
What again Widow? nay then I perceive  
Thou dost it on purpose to lose my heart:  
But to say truth, it were unreasonable  
To expect thy tender years should understand  
The true worth of money, so far, that for its sake  
To trample on those unprofitable and foolish principles  
The honourable Beggars of former times Governed their  
Lives by: But thou wilt one day know, that  
Age hath its beauties too, as well as youth, and  
More universally adored.  Wid. 
Gravity and Wisdom, Sir, I know men may  
Expect, but our Sex has no pretence to them.  Fore. 
No, wealth and power, Widow, which awe the grave  
And wise; Gold and Silver are the best red and white;  
The other, every Milkmaid may boast equal with  
A Countess.  Enter Sir John Everyoung, Modish, and Ostrich, with Fiddles playing. Wid. 
What rude fellow's that?  Ever. 
Hold, let's parley first.  [To the Music▪ 
Faith, Widow, one that loves you but too well.  Wid. 
Love me! upon what acquaintance? I ne'er  
Saw your face before in my days.  Ever. 
And dost thou like it now?  Wid. 
Not so well as yourself, you may be confident.  Ever. 
All this shan't cross my honest purpose, I  
Came in mere charity to prevent thy ruin;  
And if thou be'st not lost to all sense and reason,  
Nay, even all natural appetite, I'll do't.  Wid. 
I know no ruin near this is the worst  
Accident has befallen me a good while.  Ever. 
Hear me but out, and thou shalt bless it;  
Canst thou be such a Traitor to flesh and blood,  
As to count it nothing to be joined to that old Trunk  
There? if he increase or multiply it▪  
Must be thy Bags; Interest, and Broakage  
Are his best Instruments.  Wid. 
You don't consider that all this might be  
As well applied to your sweet self.  Ever. 
Yes, most properly, why 'tis that makes me  
Hate Matrimony, and puts me at distance  
With, To have and to hold; I confess my Tick  
Is not good, and I never desire to Game for more than  
I have about me. Now second me.  Mod. 
The minute you marry, Widow, you are  
Not worth a Groat, all is your Husbands;  
And if hereafter you shall come to a sense  
Of your unequal choice, and endeavour to  
Repair it in some young and worthy friend;  
The old Gentleman takes pet, turns you over  
To a todious suit for Al● money, which your  
Friend furnishes you with money to follow,  
For a while, and in times grows weary of it  
Himself.  Estr. 
Then like an old Gamester, that has lost all  
He has upon the square, your only way is  
To turn Rook and play upon advantage.  Wid. 
Why, do you know these Gentlemen?  Fore. 
ay, to my shame, the Ringleader of 'em is my  
Brother, there is no remedy but patience.  Wid. 
Gentlemen, you talk at a strange rate  
For the first time; but whom ever I marry  
My virtue will secure him of my constancy.  Mod. 
Pray Madam, don't profane that honourable  
Name; 'tis mere obstinacy to an old man,  
A fault methinks you have too ingenious a  
Countenance to be guilty of.  Ever. 
If thou 〈…〉  
Neglect the comfort of a Gallant, thou'st never  
'Scape the scandal, having such a Husband.  Mod. 
If you are precise, Madam, they're give you  
Your Chaplain; if you love 〈…〉  
Lawyer; if you 〈…〉  
You are undone.  Estr. 
If you take some honest Gentleman  
(Which by my 〈◊〉 I think is your best  
Course) upon the first hard journey, as the world  
Goes now, 'tis ten to one he falls lame of an  
Old bruise.  Wid. 
You are very tender of my credit if you  
Had been as careful, Gentleman, of your own  
Sobriety, I fear I had missed all this good Counsel.  Ever. 
O! are you edified? if is good counsel then:  
And for the warmth that ripened us to this care  
Of thee, be thankful, and inquire no further.  
But Brother, methinks you are over serious  
For a man that comes a Sutering.  Widd. 
He does not find your mirth take so well.  [Enter Wildish apart. Wild. 
'Slight here's Sir john Everyoung, he'll spoil  
All, if I don't take him off instantly.  [Wild goes out, and brings in three of the Widow's Maids. Fore. 
Brother▪ Brother▪ these frolicks do you  
No right in the eye of the World.  Ever. 
Hang the world, give me the pretty black-eye  
Of the Widow.  [A Song. Wild. 
Gentlemen, here's work for you,  Ever. 
A muss, a muss▪  
You see, Wildish, we found the House, though  
You would not tell us where it was, 'tis  
Dangerous to give a hint to men of our parts.  
Brother, take your Widow, show her that  
You are so far qualifie● towards a Bridegroom,  
As to lead a Country Dance.  Widd. 
I'll have no dancing in my House.  Fore. 
You see they are a little merry, humour 'em  
In this, they 〈…〉  Wid. 
Well, Sir 〈…〉  
To serve you.  [They Dance, and Forecast steals away. Mod. 
Sir Samuel gone?  Ever. 
Faith than the sport's at the best, let's all be gone:  
Farewell Widow, I have done my part, if  
Thou fallest now, say thou hadst fair warning.  [Ex. omnes.   

ACT III.  

SCENE I.  Enter Eugenio, and Philander. Eug. 
DEar friend, I am in doubt whether I shall  
This scape, a blessing, or misfortune, call;  
Since now I live to hear, Althaea must  
Be to her Duty, or to me unjust.  
Ye Powers that were so kind, my life to spare,  
Oh why was not my Love as much your care?  
You saved my life, that I might live to feel  
Despair can wound as mortally as Steel.  
My cause till now my antidote has been,  
'Gainst all the mischief it could plunge me in;  
The strictest Prison, I have freedom thought,  
And been on Scaffolds without terror brought.  
But these few words (Althaea is a Bride)  
More wound my Soul, than can the world beside.  Phil. 
Why does Eugenio Fancies entertain,  
That are 〈◊〉, 〈◊〉 and his own pain  
Like Boys, who in the dark, strange shapes create  
In their own brain, themselves to tremble at▪  
Despair's the portion of the damned below,  
And in a generous mind should never grow;  
Trust to Althaea's virtue, trust her love▪  
And you will safe in either of 〈◊〉  Eug. 
But sure no friend could so my quiet hate,  
As this Report, of nothing, to create.  Phil. 
Perhaps her Father does no less intend,  
And she, a while, her Answer may suspend.  
Not that her virtue doubts, what it shall do,  
But that she may gain time to speak with you:  
Every black Cloud does not with Thunder swell,  
Nor every symptom a Disease foretell.  
Some storms blow over; though thy Fate appear  
Thus gloomy now, anon it may be clear.  Eug. 
It may, but who can unconcerned be,  
A Tempest heard, and his whole wealth at Sea?  
I with more ease all other harms could bear,  
Than of Althaea's loss but simply hear.  Phil. 
All that we hear, we are not to believe.  Eug. 
Our hopes do oftener, than our fears deceive.  Phil. 
The advantage man 〈…〉  
He pays with interest in 〈◊〉 conceits;  
They cannot fear misfortune 〈…〉  
And when 'tis gone remember't not at all:  
But man 'gainst his own Rest in Battle placed,  
Feels mischiefs ere they come, and when they're past.  
The smiles of Fortune 〈…〉  
Methinks, you should not 〈…〉  
How would Althaea's Virtues grieve to find  
Themselves suspected in 〈◊〉 mind  
Like Princes murdered on the Royal 〈◊〉,  
Where till that 〈…〉  Eug. 
Sure my Althaea 〈…〉  
These fears that spring but from excess of love.  
Of love and courage none too much can 〈◊〉.  Phil. 
But 'tis their use, 〈…〉  
Courage, when brutal, 〈…〉  
And love, grown jealous, can no merit have.  Eug. 
A higher mark of love there cannot be,  
We doubt no Lover, whom we jealous see.  Phil. 
So Fevers are of life sure proof we know,  
And yet our lives they 〈…〉  
Diseases, though well cur'd, our bodies ●ar,  
And fears, although removed, our loves impair:  
True love, like health, should no disorder know.  Eug. 
But who, alast such love, or health can show?  
Our passions, like ourselves, are framed to die,  
And have still something they must perish by;  
We none (brave friend) for being hapless blame,  
But all allow, 'tis baseness to be tame;  
He that has raised this Tempest in my mind,  
Shall in the Billows his own ruin 〈◊〉;  
I'll fight him instantly, and make him know,  
I am not more his Rival than his Foe.  Phil. 
Thy life, alas (dear friend) 's no longer thine,  
Thou hast engaged it in a brave design:  
Thy bleeding Country, and thy Princes Right,  
Are th' only Quarrels that thy Sword should fight,  
If you into the Tyrant's hands should fall,  
●Twou'd pull a sudden ruin on us all.  
Which, if you stir, we may have cause to fear,  
Since tyrants' Eyes and Hands are every where.  Eug. 
Now thou hast touched me in the tenderest part,  
Though Love possess, Honour must rule my heart;  
My Nation's Fate's too great a Sacrifice  
For me to make, though to Althaea's Eyes;  
No, I am calmed, and happy am to have  
A friend so full of temper when I rave,  
And hope the gods, whilst I my own neglect,  
To fight their Quarrel, will my Love protect.  [Exeunt.  

SCENE II.  Enter Victoria and Olivia. Vict. 
Sister, I doubt we are a little too free with  
Our Servants, this Modish, and his friend  
Ostrich: few Plays gain Audience by being  
In Print, and fewer women get Husbands by  
Being too much known.  Oliv. 
But ours are most accomplished Mounsieurs,  
Must be assaulted on all parts e'er they'll yield;  
Must have their Ears charmed as well as Eyes:  
'Twere ill husbandry in a Mercer to be thirsty  
In his Patterns, it often disparages a good stuff;  
And too great reservedness in one of us, especially  
At the first, might give a discouragement to our  
Further Acquaintance.  Vict. 
Now might I have my wish, I would come  
All new, nay my voice and name should not  
Be known; where I would be liked, I would have  
The few Charms I am Mistress of, make their  
Assault at an instant, all at one time:  
For sure Horatio did their power subdue,  
By conquering one, ere he another knew.  Oliv. 
Fie Sister, think no more of him; but to the  
Matter in hand, who ever caught any thing  
With a naked hook? nothing venture, nothing  
Win, and for my part I am resolved to allow  
All innocent liberty; this Matrimony is a  
Pill will scarce down with a young man  
Without guilding; let Ostrich believe I am  
In love with him, and when he leaves me,  
He'll find I am not.  Enter to them Wildish. Wild. 
So he will, when he marrys you, or I am  
Deceived, Madam.  Vict. 
What, turned Eaves●Dropper, Mr. Wildish?  Wild. 
No Ladies, but your heads are so taken up with  
These Heirs Apparent, that you can't see a  
Younger Brother when he comes into the Room.  Oliv. 
Not when our backs are towards him; but  
Otherwise as an elder, any where, but before  
A Parson.  Wild. 
You are in the right; Jointure, and allowance  
For clothes, have clearly got the better off▪ Dear  
Madam, I consider not your Portion, but your  
Person; give your Estate where you please,  
So you will but settle your affection upon me,  
My Fate depends upon your Answer▪ and the like  
Artillery of unlanded Lovers: But I never  
Repine at that; for fine Women, like great  
Tables, though they are maintained by men  
Of Fortunes, are ever open to men of parts.  Oliv. 
Why now, Wildish, you talk like yourself  
Again; ever since I saw you last, I 〈◊〉  
Been in most terrible apprehension●●  
Whining Copy of Verses.  Wild. 
Expectation you mean, Madam, but 'tis  
Not come to that yet; though I talk a little  
Extravagantly when I see you, I am not so  
Through paced a Lover, but I can express  
Myself in Prose.  Vict. 
But you, being a new Convert, can't give  
Too many marks of your Devotion: and I should  
Mistrust I were not as I ought to be in my  
Servants heart, if I did not run sometimes  
In his head, and then Verses follow infallibly.  Wild. 
Faith, Madam, that's much as the head lies,  
There are some you may search every cranny  
Over, and not find three Rhymes; very good  
Lovers too; and to say truth, 'tis unreasonable  
A man should be put to seek fresh words  
To express that to his Mistress, which has  
Been as well said already by some body else;  
I think 'tis very fair if he set his hand  
To't, and that I am ready to do to the most  
Passionate Copy of Verses you can find.  Oliv. 
How much Love and Constancy  
Will you engage for then?  Wild. 
As much as you can find in that Paper there.  He gives a Paper to Olivia, she gives it to Victoria. Oliv. 
Sister here read 'em, I shall put the Accent  
In the wrong place, stop out of time, or  
One mischief or other, and so put my poor  
Servant into an Agony.  Vict. 
To a very young Lady.  [Reads the Title. Oliv. 
That's I, Wildish: come, you have been  
Dabbling; proceed, Sister, I fear 'em not, I have  
No more pity on a Rhyming Lover, than on  
A Beggar that begs in a Tone.  Vict. 
Are not these Verses somewhat  
Too weak to alone?  Wild. 
Faith, Madam, I am●● your mind, put a  
Tune to 'em, 'tis an easy Stanza.  Victoria sing. 

Ah Cloris! that I now could sit  
As unconcerned, as when  
Your Infant Beauty could beget  
No pleasure, nor no pain.   

2.  
When I the Dawn used to admire,  
And praised the coming day;  
I little thought the growing fire  
Must take my Rest away.   

3.  
Your Charms in harmless Childhood lay,  
Like metals in the mine,  
Age from no face took more away,  
Then Youth concealed in thine.   

4.  
But as your Charms insensibly  
To their perfection pressed,  
Fond Love as unperceived did fly,  
And in my Bosom rest.   

5.  
My passion with your Beauty grew,  
And Cupid at my heart,  
Still as his mother favoured you,  
Threw a new flaming Dart.   

6.  
Each gloried in their manton part  
To make a Lover be  
Employed the utmost of his Art,  
To make a Beauty she.   

7.  
Though now I slowly bend to love  
Uncertain of my Fate,  
If your fair self my Chains approve,  
I shall my freedom hate.   

8.  
Lovers, like dying men, may well  
At first disordered be,  
Since none alive can truly tell  
What Fortune they must see.   Enter a Servant. Seru. 
There's an old Gentleman below in a Chair  
Inquires for Mr. Wildish; as fine as an Emperor,  
My Master Sir john is no body to him; as he  
Peeped through the glass, I thought it was Sir  
Samuel Forecast.  Vict. 
It is 〈…〉  Wild. 
Yes faith it is Ladies, I am privy to the plot.  Oliv. 
Good Mr. Wildish bring him up,  
I would give any thing to see him.  Wild. 
Do you step into that Close● then● for I  
Must swear the Coast is clear: set the door a  
Little open, and you may see him perfectly,  
His Bravery on my word is not designed  
For this place, and he is so politic, that  
He will think your seeing him may be  
A prejudice to his design.  Wildish goest out, and brings in Sir Samuel Forecast. Wild. 
Sir Samuel, now you shine, indeed▪ my  
Cousin will be ravished to see you transform  
Yourself thus for her sake.  Fore. 
She is a tender piece, and though her discretion  
Helps her to conceal it, in her heart cannot  
But love a little Bravery; I have two Laces  
In a Seam more than my Brother Everyoung,  
And a Yard more in my Cravat.  Wild. 
Nay, you are most exact, and in this dress  
Methinks not unlike Sir john.  Fore. 
I came only to show myself to you, and  
Am for my Widow presently; shall I have  
Your Company?  Wild. 
I have a little business here, but I'll  
Be with you by that time you are there, I see  
You came in a Chair.  Fore. 
Do you think I had a mind to have the Boys  
Follow me in the streets? pray be secret, Mr.  
Wildish, for I would have no body know I am  
In this Dress, but yourself, and your fair Cousin,  
For a world: and therefore I will make haste  
From hence, do you follow me according  
To your promise.  [Exit. Wild. 
I shall, Sir Samuel.  Oliv. 
I never saw a City-Bridegroom so friz▪  
So laced, so perfumed, and so powdered in my 〈◊〉  Vict. 
I think verily he was painted too, I vow  
I should not have known his Worship, if  
You had not given us a hint of his Bravery before.  Wild. 
Well, I must recover my old Knight.  
Farewell Ladies.  Oliv. 
Pray be here anon, and give us an account  
Of this Adventure.  Vict. 
Certainly it must be very pleasant.  Wild. 
I shall obey you, Ladies.  [Exit Wildish. Enter Everyoung, Victoria, and Olivia laughing. Ever. 
Heyday▪ what, are the Girls mad?  Vict. 
No, Sir, but I think my Uncle Forecast's  
〈◊〉 better.  Ever. 
Why, what of him?  Oliv. 
He is, Sir, at this time the greatest Spark in  
London, dressed so like you, that if his condition  
Required it, I should think, Sir, he were going  
To a Scrivener to personate you for a good Sum.  Ever. 
Well, I'll handsel his new clothes, and put him  
As much out of conceit with Bravery as ever  
He was in his life. Boy, call in the three  
Prentices were brought before me for breaking  
Windows last night.  Enter three Prentices. 
I suppose, young men, you would not scruple  
At a small piece of service to the man that  
Should procure your Liberties.  Open. 
Free us, and command us any thing.  Ever. 
Well then follow me, and when I show  
You a certain Chair, take the Gentleman  
Out of it, and cudgel him; I'll be at a little  
Distance, and if you want help▪ be ready to  
Assist you: be sure you call him Sir john  
Everyoung, and tell him of a Lady he affronted.  1 Pren. 
We shall call him what you please, Sir,  
And beat him as much as you please.  Exit Victoria and Olivia.  

SCENE changes.  Forecast coming by 〈◊〉 his Chair. Ever. 
That's the Chair.  They take out Forecast, and cudgel him. Fore. 
If you have humanity, if you had Women  
To your Mothers, be more merciful,  
Gentlemen, I never injured you, not saw●any  
Of you in my life.  Pren. 
I perceive, Sir john Everyoung, you have  
Forgot the affront you did a Lady last night.  Fore. 
What affront, Sir, what Lady?  Pren. 
The affront, Sir, was a great affront, and  
The Lady, a great Lady, that thinks fit to  
Have you beaten for't.  Fore. 
You mistake, Gentlemen, you mistake;  
For as I am a true Servant to the State,  
I never did kindness or injury to any Lady  
Since I was in Commission.  2 Pren. 
A true Servant to the State, and a man in  
Authority! he shall have three kicks more for that.  Enter Ostrich and Modish. Estr. 
What, three upon one! who e'er he be,  
The Cause becomes a Gentleman●  
Let's rescue him at all adventures.  They draw, the Prentices run away. Fore. 
Ostrich. and Modish! nay then I am utterly  
Undone, I have only scaped a little more  
Beating, to be laughed 〈…〉  Estr. 
Sir, we are very happy that our 〈◊〉  
Led us this way, since it has given us an  
Opportunity of serving a Gentleman,  
Especially oppressed by odds.  Fore. 
I shall 〈…〉  
Let me know where to wait on you, to give  
You thanks for this your seasonable  
Assistance: now, Gentlemen, my hurts  
Require a Chirurgeon.  He 〈…〉 Mod. 
Nay, Sir, take your Hat and Sword along  
With you; there they be,  [He looks a little for 'um.] 
I never heard any man speak so  
Like Sir Samuel Forecast in my life.  Estr. 
But he is dressed very like Everyoung,  
A mere medley between the two Brothers;  
But we'll see who he is before we go.  Mod. 
Have you received any hurt in your  
Face, that you cover it with your 〈…〉  Fore. 
A slight one only.  Estr. 
I have Sympathy-powder about me, if  
You will give me your handkerchief while  
The blood is warm, will cure, it immediately.  Modish snatches it off, and discovers him. Estr. 
Sir Samuel Forecast, why do you hide your  
Self thus from your friends? we expected  
Nothing for our pains, neither is your  
Hurt so dangerous, but it might endure the Air.  Mod. 
Methinks you should rather have hid  
Yourself from your Enemies▪ but, Sir  
Samuel, whatever the matter is, I never  
Saw a man so fine in all my life.  Fore. 
Now the Brokers take all fine clothes,  
And the Gaol all that love 'em; they have  
Helped me to fine beating.  Estr. 
Why do you think the Rogues would have  
Had more mercy on your high crowned Hat,  
Black Cap, and Boots.  Fore. 
No, but they took me for my Brother  
Everyoung, who it seems, has lately affronted  
A Lady, and I suffer for it.  Mod. 
The best advice we can give you, is to  
Go home and shift, for fear of more mishaps.  Estr. 
Farewell, Sir Samuel  [Exeunt omnes.   

ACT IU.  

SCENE I.  The Mulberry-Garden. Enter Jack Wildish. Wild. 
I Was to blame no earlier to use myself  
To these Women of Honour, 〈…〉  
For now like one that never practised swimming,  
Upon the first occasion I am lost; there are men  
Would have fooled with 〈…〉  
Perhaps by this time, 〈…〉  
In one serious thought: your good Fencer always  
Thrusts in Guard, he's but a Novice that receives  
Hit for hit: this Modish and Ostrich, I know  
Not what to make of their continual Visits,  
Methinks Love and Jealousy come too quick  
Upon a man in one day.  Enter. Modish and Ostrich. 
Here come the men▪ they are open enough to  
Let me know all at large; but I would fain  
Contrive it, that the Ladies might be witnesses  
Of their Servants most invincible secrecy:  
I'll steal off ere I am seen, and think 〈◊〉.  Enter. Victoria and Olivia, as he goes out he meets 'um. Wild. 
Slip into that Arbour, Ladies, and trust me  
For once for a quarter of an hours diversion.  Oliv. 
Pray, Sister, let us go, he has somewhat in  
His head, I'm confident.  He puts them into an Arbour, and meets Modish in a Walk, Wild. 
Your Servant, Modish.  Mod. 
O your Servant!  Estr. 
Your Servant, Mr. Wildish.  Wild. 
What, is there store of Game ●iere, Gentlemen?  Mod. 
Troth little, or none, a few Citizens that  
Have brought their Children out to air 'em,  
And eat Cheesecakes.  Wild. 
I thought this place had been so full of  
Beauties, that like 〈◊〉 of 〈◊〉 in a Hare  
Warren, you could not hunt one for another:  
What think you of an Arbaur and a 〈◊〉 of Rhenish.  Wildish brings 'em to the next Arbour to the Ladies. Estr. 
I like the motion 〈◊〉.  Wild. 
And how go the Ladies? will they go abroad  
Alone? are they come to kissing yet?  Estr. 
What Ladies?  Wild. 
Why, Sir john's Daughters, the Ladies.  Mod. 
You are 〈…〉.  Wild. 
I should be so indeed, if it were with me  
As it is with you, Gentlemen, that have two  
Such fine Women in love with you, and every  
Night sitting up together till morning.  Mod. 
I go only to entertain Victoria in mere  
Friendship to Ned Ostrich; 'tis he that is the  
Happy man.  Estr. 
'Tis a part of friendship that you discharge  
Very willingly, and very effectually, for  
Sometimes we see neither of you in an hour;  
And than you return, exclaiming against the  
Heat of the weather, and cruelty of your Mistress.  Wild. 
What, that she kept him a little too hard  
To't, or so?  Mod. 
Fie, Wildish, they are women of honour.  Wild. 
Well, here's their health, to make 'em amends.  
And, faith they lose none with me, in being  
Civil to an honest Gentleman, 'tis the only  
Wealth is left poor women to exercise  
Their good nature with: A friend at Court may  
Get you a place, a General of an Army give  
You an Employment, a Bishop a Church-Living,  
And a fair Lady a good turn; every one in their  
Way, and I hold him ungrateful that buries  
An obligation of any sort in silence: besides  
'Twere mere robbery to your friends, not to  
Let 'em rejoice in your good fortune.  Mod. 
But say I have made a vow to the contrary;  
Not that there is, or ever was, any such good  
Fortune; and womens' favours, like the gifts  
Of Fairies, if once spoke of, vanish.  Wild. 
O your Servant, what say you Ostrich?  
Are you under a vow too, or are the favours  
You have received, yet, only such as the hope  
Of further obliges you to secrecy for a while?  
But you are so serious, I doubt you intent  
To commit matrimony.  Estr. 
Not as long as I can have simple forn●.  
Cation for love or money: I am not for those  
Ladies that deal by wholesail, a bit off the  
Spit serves my turn as well as the whole Joint,  
And methinks has a prettier relish.  Wild. 
That is, metaphorically saying, you have  
Sped with your Mrs.— my service  [Drinks to him. 
To you, remembering the Bit off the Spit.  
And how, is she buxam? does she think happiness  
Consists in motion, or in rest? what Sect of  
Philosophers is she of?  Estr. 
A Pythagorean; I, Sir, in all these cases say Nothing.  Wild. 
Nay, you had as good speak out now, and  
Make me your confident.  Modish takes Ostrich aside. Mod. 
jack Wildish is an honest fellow, 'tis not a  
Pins matter what we say to him; and they are  
Two of the prettiest women in Town: it sounds  
Handsomely, to boast some familiarity, you  
Understand me: he knows 'em not, and will  
Never find us out; I'll begin with him—  
I wonder, Wildish, we could never get you along  
With us; the Ladies have not vowed virginity,  
They are no such Bugbears as you take 'em for.  Wild. 
I take 'em for honest women, or which is  
E'en as bad, pretenders to it.  Estr. 
There is no harm in pretending to it, that  
Like a high price, only serves to keep off  
I●● Company.  Wild. 
Yes, yes, I know what kind of cattle they are●  
Well enough, there's no having a simple Kiss  
Amongst 'em without a journey into the  
Country; nor getting 'em abroad without a Sister,  
Or a Cousin at least, and then they must be at  
Home too by ten a Clock, have the Syllabus, and  
Tarts, brought into the Coach to 'em▪ drink more▪  
Sugar than wine, and so foul all the Glasses, put  
You to four or five pound charge, and let you  
See nothing but themselves, that's man's meat  
For't; I have been once or twice plagued  
With such Animals as these.  Mod. 
Canst thou imagine, Wildish, we would fool  
Away our time with such shadows of women  
As thou describest? we have solid and substantial  
Pleasures.  Wild. 
What? a Ribbon, or a lock of hair, I warrant.  Mod. 
No, two young juicy Girls, that stick as  
Gloze to us, as the Bark to the tree, and part as  
Unwillingly from us, as green fruit does from the  
Stone; and all this through the reputation of sober  
And discreet Servants to their pleasure: If such  
A scandalous fellow as thou come into the House  
Without our introduction, the Ladies would cry out,  
O my Honour! as far as they could ●●e thee.  Wild. 
Methinks, Sir john Everyoung (an old smell-Smock as he is) should take the alarm, and so  
Remove these so juicy Girls.  Estr. 
I hope you don't think we mean his Daughters  
All this while? (that were a trick indeed)  
We speak of two Ladies that shall be nameless.  Wild. 
Faith, Gentlemen, I can speak of none such,  
For all my acquaintance have 〈◊〉 three  
Names apiece, I assure you.  Mod. 
Well jack, to return your civility in  
The last health you began, here's to all those  
Incomparable Ladies, that like Roman  
Conquerors have two or three names  
Apiece: But if thou wouldst leave this  
Rambling, thou wouldst lose nothing by it▪  
There's as hard drinking in Gentlemen Houses  
Now adays, as at Taverns, and as hot service  
In many a Lady's Chamber, as at 〈◊〉  Wild. 
But how 〈…〉  
Reputation? there are your men of● 〈◊〉,  
As well as Stuffs, and they go out again no body  
Knows how.  Mod. 
'Tis true, in the first place you must shake  
Hands with your old friends, Hoquemore and  
Burgundy for a while; leave your Chaste Ling,  
And La-Fronds, dine with my Lord such a  
One one day, my Lady what d'you call'em another;  
And be sure to talk on't in the next Company  
You come into, drink Wine and Water at Table,  
A Dish of Tea after Dinner, like nothing but  
What is French, before the Ladies; lose your money  
Very much like a Gentleman to 'em in the Afternoon,  
And the work's done.  Wild. 
This is a hard Chapter.  Estr. 
If thou knew'st once the pleasure of such a  
Sprightly Girl as Olivia, the kind quarrels,  
The fondness, the pretty sullenness after a  
Little absence, which must be charmed out  
Of it with Kisses, and those thousand other  
devices that make a Lover's happiness; thou  
Wouldst think all this as easy, as lying a bed in  
The Country in a wet morning.  Mod. 
Or, if he could but see Victoria's reservedness  
A little mollified, and brought to hand with a good  
Supper and the Fiddles.  Estr. 
Or Olivia in her morning dress, with her Guittar,  
Singing to it most enticingly, and then as kind in  
Her discourse, her little breasts swelling and po●ting  
Out, as if they came half way to be kissed.  Mod. 
Or the others haughty look melted into smiles,  
The pretty combat of pride and pleasure in her  
Face, at some certain times.  Estr. 
My Mistress is in the very spring of beauty.  Mod. 
And mine in the Midsummer of perfection.  Estr. 
Mine is—  Wild. 
Nay Gentlemen, one at once, and no quarrelling  
I beseech you; you are happy men both, and have  
Reason to be in love with your sweet lives, but I  
Thought Victoria had so obstinately doted on  
Her old Servant Horatio, that there had been  
More hope of winning a Widow at her Husband's  
Funeral, then of any favour for her now.  Mod. 
People will be talking, but on my word she'll  
Ne'er break her heart for Horatio; I and my  
Fellow-labourer, Time, have done his business.  Wild. 
You are the great Masters of your Art, these  
Are the two Beauties, that the whole Town runs  
Mad after.  Estr. 
We know it, we know it, and it is no small part  
Of our felicity, to have that Lord send his  
Coach and six to carry 'em to the Park; this  
Gentleman offering to play at Angel-beast with 'em,  
Though he scarce know the Cards, and has no more  
Visible Estate then what he may lose at a sitting:  
A third begging to give 'em the four and twenty  
Violins, which his Father in the County hears  
Of and disinherits for, whilst the Ladies put 'em  
Off with some slight Excuses, and send the whole  
Town over after us.  Wild. 
You have 'em it seems in most excellent order.  Mod. 
O there's no true pleasure but in your person  
Of quality, the others love all men so well,  
They can love none best: they are indeed  
(Like your more generous Creatures) somewhat  
Hard to tame, but I have seen a Lion as  
Gentle as an Ox: time and industry will do  
Any thing.  Estr. 
Come, drink a Glass round.  Mod. 
I can't get down a drop of this Wine more  
Without a Frolic.  Wild. 
Every●man name the woman that has  
Obliged him last, and drink all their  
Healths in a Brimmer.  Mod. 
Content, begin Ostrich.  Estr. 
Olivia: now▪ Modish, names yours.  Mod. 
Victoria, Victoria: we must have  
Your person too, Wildish.  Wild. 
Mrs. Betty.  Mod. 
Betty what?  Wild. 
Nay faith, I can go no further, and may  
Very well be mistaken in that too.  Estr. 
Here's a Lock of Hair, shall I dip it for one  
Glass more?  Wild. 
Whose is it first?  Estr. 
Olivia's, whose should it be? black as Jet,  
And shining as her Eyes: here's her Picture  
Too in little.  (Wildish steps a little aside, and looks upon it.) Wild. 
O Impudence! his Sister's Picture, he forgot  
He showed me a month ago; this lock of  
Hair, produced so confidently, frighted me  
A little, till I saw the colour.  Enter to them Snappum. Snap. 
Gentlemen, I beg your pardon for pressing  
Thus rudely into your Company; but the business  
Concerns no less than all my Fortunes: I  
Have been long a Suitor to a rich Widow, and have  
At last prevailed with her to marry me suddenly.  Estr. 
What is that to us, Sir?  Snap. 
Wildish, you'll I hope make my Excuse to  
Your friends: coming into the Garden about  
Half an hour ago, I lost a Bracelet of her  
Hair, wrought with her own hands, so that  
There is no deceiving her with a counterfeit:  
A Waiter here tells me, he saw one of you  
Take up such a thing.  Wild. 
Is this it?  Estr. 
That's mine, and composed of hair so dear  
To me, that I would fight with Hector, the top  
Of your order for least of 'um.  Snap. 
And I with Hercules for mine: but  
Pray Mr. Wildish, let me see it; if it be that I look:  
For, no body will quarrel for 't, for't, for 'tis full  
Of gray hairs, I assure you.  Wild. 
Shall he see it?  Estr. 
No.  Wild. 
I'll make bold for once though.  Snap. 
'Tis my old Woman's.  [Shows it him. Wild. 
By the mark I'll swear, for 'tis as grizzled  
As a Silver-haired Rabbit; I may venture to  
Let him have it, Ostrich, I suppose, mayn't I?  Estr. 
Yes, yes, now I remember me, I sent mine  
To have a new string put to it.  Snappum goes off, Wildish follows him a little way. Wild. 
Adieu, Snappum.  Snap. 
Are any of these Gentlemen good Bubbles,  
Mr. Wildish?  Wild. 
What do I know, you had best ask 'um.  Snap. 
No, I thank you, Sir, I can be satisfied  
On easier terms; but you were always a Lover  
Of ingenuity, pray tell me.  Wild. 
Away, away.  [Exit Snap. Wild. returns. 
I'm sorry your Mistress has gray hairs so young,  
I doubt you are not kind to her, Ostrich.  Mod. 
Nay, Wildish, don't insult upon a mistake.  Ostrich is out of Countenance, and looking up and down sees the women in the next Arbour. Estr. 
I think we have neighbours in the next  
Arbour, and fine women they seem to  
Be in their Masks.  Mod. 
Let's entertain 'em— what Ladies, come a  
Padding for Hearts here in your visards?  
A pretty device to make a man in Love  
With he can't tell who.  Estr. 
What, rob us of our Liberties without one  
Word? not so much as stand and deliver?  Oliv. 
If we should rob you of your Hearts,  
Gentlemen, 'twere but petty Larceny; Victoria  
And Olivia would never send Hue and Cry after us.  Mod. 
You know us, Madam.  Oliv. 
Yes, Gentlemen, somewhat better than  
We did this morning, though I always  
Supposed no less.  Estr. 
Then what?  Oliv. 
Then that you were the vainest Coxcombs  
In the whole Town, Fellows that would hate  
A woman that were kind to you, because she  
Takes from you the pleasure of belying her.  Estr. 
Olivia?  Oliv. 
The very same, Sir, whose Picture you have  
In your Pocket, and about whose Hair you  
Had like to have quarrelled so manfully but now;  
Who sends all the Town after you, and putteth  
Others off with slight Excuses; the obliging  
Lady, whose health you drank by that name.  Estr. 
'Twas another Olivia I meant, one  
I knew abroad.  Vict. 
And another Victoria that you meant, Modish?  Mod. 
Right, right, my Landladies Daughter  
At the Cheval d'Or, since gone into a Monastery.  Oliv. 
The Daughters of a French Everyoung,  
I warrant too.  Estr. 
La jeunesse was their Father, which is  
All one with Everyoung in English.  Mod. 
On our Honours, Ladies, we were ever most  
Tender of your dear Credits, and are heartily  
Sorry our mistress's light to be of your names.  Oliv. 
Pray will you do me favour to let  
Me see my Picture, I'm confident 'tis very  
Like me.  Estr. 
Your French Namesakes you mean, Madam;  
That mal adroit Wildish let it fall and broke.  
The Crystal, and I sent it just now away  
To have a new one put to it, as I hope to be  
Saved Madam.  Mod. 
But, Madam, could you think me so  
Senseless, as discourse of you at that rate?  
Here's jack Wildish has heard us speak of  
These Wenches a hundred times.  Wild. 
'Slight, these fellows  [Wildish apart. 
Will lie themselves into credit again, if  
I han't a care of 'em instantly: Gentlemen  
I understand no winks, the few lies I'll  
Venture upon I am resolved to keep for my  
Own use.  Estr. 
Prithee Wildish help us but this once.  Wild. 
No, no, go on, methinks you are in a  
Very fair way; I am a stranger, the Ladies  
Won't mind what I say.  Oliv. 
Yes, yes, we'll take your word.  Wild. 
Why then, Ladies, I assure you upon the Honour  
Of a Gentleman, and by my friendship to those  
Worthy persons I dare answer, they are too  
Much Servants, to discourse so long of any  
Thing but yourselves: and for the French women  
You know as much of 'em as I, having never  
Heard title of 'em till this minute.  Vict. 
You have brought a veryn sufficient  
Witness with you Gentlemen, we do  
Believe him.  Mod. 
Ours is not the first good cause has been lost  
By ill Witnesses: but I perceive, Ladies, you  
Don't know jack Wildish, he 〈…〉  
Droll in the whole Town; has a hundred  
Of these fetches.  [To Wildish apart. Estr. 
Pox on't, thou mayst bring all off yet.  Wild. 
Faith my 〈…〉  
To deceive a Lady in a friend's 〈◊〉,  [aloud. 
To do it now, and in my own is all I can  
Obtain of it.  [Ostrich comes up to Wildish. Estr. 
'S death, Sir  Wild. 
Nay Ostrich, 〈…〉  
Mind it not, and 'tis uncivil 〈…〉  
mistress's.  Mod. 
But that we are two to one, and scorn  
Advantages, you should not carry it off thus▪  Wild. 
I should be more 〈…〉  
Three to one: but some other time for  
These matters.  Oliv. 
Never blame Wildish, we were all the  
While in the next Arbour, so that if he had  
Taken your Cue never so readily, 't had done  
You little service.  Vict. 
Gentlemen this matter will bear no more  
Raillery; we are sensible of our Honours, and  
The injury your extravagant discourse might  
Have done us, with any but so worthy a  
Person as Mr. Wildish; but he we are  
Confident understands himself too well  
To have any ill thought of us from your  
Vanity: we can do no less than forbid  
You our House, and pray forbear it without  
Further Ceremony.  Wildish takes Victoria; Ostrich offers to take Olivia, she refuses. Oliv. 
No, Sir, you'll say I come to pick you up  
In the Garden one time or other.  [Exeunt 〈◊〉. Enter. Eugenio like an Officer, and three more▪ Sir. Samuel Forecast above. Enter a Servant. Seru. 
Sir, there are some Soldiers below, say  
They must search your House for some  
Suspicious person.  Fore. 
I warrant they mean Eugenio and Philander,  
I am utterly undone, suspected for a Traitor,  
And all long of those 〈…〉  
Very glad I have got my Christian Cloth  
On again: go and let 'em in.  Euge. 
Sir, I hope you will excuse us, we do but  
Follow our Orders, and● having searched your  
House for some dangerous persons 〈◊〉  
Leave it you again in peace: 〈◊〉 and  
Philander were your Sons, and therefore  
Most probably judged to have made  
Your House their Sanctuary.  Fore. 
My House their Sanctuary! I had rather  
It should be their Grave: since they made  
The State their Enemy, I have been so too.  Euge. 
Then you have no thoughts of 'em for  
Your Daughters?  Fore. 
No, Sir, I assure you: and to remove all doubt,  
Althaea's shortly to be married to Horatio  
(One that will bid you welcome, Sir, if you  
Please to come to the wedding) and I hope to  
Dispose of Diana e'er long to some honest  
Gentleman of our party.  Enter Althaea. Fore. 
I command you, on my blessing, to answer  
All things this Gentleman questions you  
About, precisely, as it were myself.  Euge. 
Sir, you do well, but you must retire  
A little, whilst we examine your Daughters,  
A man, though never so well meaning  
Himself, can't answer for others.  [Exit. Forecast. Euge. 
Lady, your Father here has showed  
Himself a faithful Subject to the Common●  
Wealth; it now remains to know what  
Correspondence you entertain with Eugenio  
And Philander, your former Servants.  Alth. 
Upon my honour not the least, we are  
Too strictly watched to have a correspondence  
With any man, and are too careful of our  
Selves to hold one with persons so obnoxious.  Euge. 
Are you resolved you never will?  Alth. 
As things are now they never shall.  Euge. 
Must you then 〈…〉  Alth. 
My Father tells me so, and I have 〈◊〉  
Been Dutiful.  Euge. 
Horatio's. an accomplished Gentleman.  Alth. 
He is Sir, and worthy of more happiness  
Than I can bring him to.  Euge. 
By Heaven, she loves him.  [aside. 
You loved Eugenio once, and gave vow for vow.  Alth. 
I did perhaps.  Euge. 
A Stranger and an Enemy as he is I pity him.  Alth. 
'Tis noble in you, Sir, but we must all obey  
Our Fortunes.  [Eugenio lets fall his Disguise. Euge. 
And curse 'em too, if they be all like mine,  
That love where beauty, and not virtue, shine.  
O that the Tyrants knew that I were here!  
Death does more lovely now than life appear.  
Since thou art false, 'tis she alone has charms;  
Neglected love rests only in your arms:  
When I am dead you may your choice a vow  
Without reproach, which sure you cannot now:  
And I shall want the sense of all my wrongs,  
My death both to my rest, and thine belongs.  Alth. 
Can this Eugenio be, and so unkind,  
What strange Distemper rages in thy mind?  
Could once my Soul of a base thought allow,  
He that believes me false should find me so.  Euge. 
Must you not, Madam, with Horatio wed?  
'Tis a belief that your own words have bred.  Alth. 
Forgive my fear, if any word of mine  
Unto that hateful sound seemed to incline:  
Your rude appearance, of a Soldier, made  
My tender heart, and very love afraid:  
I durst not speak, what most I did believe,  
But used such words as you would best receive.  Euge. 
Alas, Althaea! what you told me here,  
Did not create, although increase, my fear:  
That you must make him happy, is not new,  
Nor did I learn the killing sounds from you;  
The Streets are full of it; and every where  
I can of nothing but this Hymen hear.  Alth. 
'Tis true, my Father does a match design  
'Twixt me and this Horatio, and does join  
Threats to Commands, urges th' uncertain state  
Of your affairs, your Party, and the Fate  
Of such as do a well formed Power invade;  
How they are always conquered or betrayed.  
My Beauty fatal to itself the while  
Inflames Horatio, and discourse (like Oil)  
Foments the fire: of such a Love he tells,  
As would prevail but where your Image dwells;  
But still in vain the Heart I gave to you,  
The one does threaten, and the other woo.  Euge. 
An absent Lover ill maintains the field:  
Does not my Image to his presence yield?  Alth. 
I'm sure it ought; reproaches so severe,  
They that deserve 'em not will never bear.  
'Twere just that Faith which you so ill deserve,  
For one of nobler thoughts I should reserve.  Euge. 
We oft are made by a too great concern  
(Like too much light) unable to discern.  
The leave I gave to your surprise so late,  
Now for my own distraction I entreat.  
Where there is much of Love, there will appear  
Mixed with our boldest hope some little fear.  Alth. 
That fear in a true Lover soon would die,  
Which to my Virtue is an Enemy.  Euge. 
Hope is the passion of a calmer breast,  
But high concernments are with doubt oppressed.  
To few, alas, is such assurance given  
Not to fear Hell, although they hope for Heaven.  
I not your Virtue, but my Fate accuse,  
Which still does me with highest rigour use.  Alth. 
Though Fate, Eugenio, for Misfortune meant,  
I would refuse to be the Instrument.  
That dire necessity it seldom gave  
Of harming them, whom we would only save.  Euge. 
But mark, I think I hear a noise of Swords.  Alth. 
The sound, alas, no room for doubt affords.  
You might perhaps be safe in your disguise.  
Spoke within by Soldiers. Where are the rest of 'um?  
Down with the doors there.  Euge. 
Their sudden coming all such hope denies,  
'Tis me they seek, I am betrayed; but yet  
Since I can't shun, I'll try to break the net.  
This Paper will inform your Sister where  
She may of her unhappy Servant hear,  
Make him remove, help him to shun that Fate  
Which does for the unblessed Eugenio wait.  
My Rival in their head! by all the Gods,  
Horatio, this is an unmanly odds;  
Yet if on thee I can but fall revenged,  
I life for death most happily have changed.  Hora. 
Eugenio. here! I thought of nothing less,  
But my clear meaning this will best express.  He fights on Eugenio's side. Officer. 
Down with 'em both.  The Soldiers prevail, they are taken. Euge. 
Sir, let my life the cruel forfeit pay,  
And bear not rashly so much worth away.  
Horatio. was too far by Virtue led,  
And saved that blood he nobly should have shed:  
He being my Rival feared the world might say,  
He for my hated life this train did lay.  
Honour engaged his Sword in my defence,  
And Honour is a kind of Innocence.  Hora. 
Eugenio. leave to intercede for me,  
I only grieve I could not rescue thee,  
That so thou might'st thy preservation owe  
To the same Virtue thou so ill didst know:  
And I some fitter time might make thee own  
The injustice of thy mean aspersion,  
To think I came thus rudely to invade  
The place where all that I adore is laid;  
And then to take my Rival in a snare,  
Where if I would I knew I could not spare,  
Was an affront thou with that life hadst paid,  
Which I defended: but revenge shows base,  
Which on our Honour more dependence has.  Euge. 
Some other time for this dispute we'll take,  
Revenge by threatening we the harder make.  Officer. 
Come, Gentlemen, you must away, my  
Orders press; you will have time enough to talk  
Of these things in the Tower.  Enter two Soldiers bringing in Sir Samuel. Officer. 
Sir, you must along.  Fore. 
Who I! for what?  Offic. 
For harbouring Eugenio here, a known  
Enemy to the State.  Fore. 
You brought him with you for aught I know,  
I ne'er saw his face, I answered an Officer, and  
Two Soldier's that came to search for him  
Even now, and as I thought, gave 'em satisfaction.  
But when I heard the clashing of Swords, because  
I would not be made accessary to any thing that  
Might happen, I confess I retired into a  
Corner of my Garret.  Offic. 
Sir, this won't satisfy, the Receiver is as  
Bad as the Thief; I have found a Traitor  
In your house, and you shall answer it.  Fore. 
Eugenio, you are an honest Gentleman,  
Pray speak, did I know any thing of your  
Being here?  Euge. 
Not in the least, Sir: but my word I fear  
Will do you little service.  Enter Wildish. Wild. 
What, Sir Samuel, again under persecution?  
Nay, faith, I can do you no service now, these  
Are a sort of Gamesters I dare not meddle withal.  Fore. 
I am undone! here's Eugenio found in my  
House, and they are carrying him to the Tower.  Wild. 
Come, bear up, Sir, if there come a turn,  
You'll be a great man.  Fore. 
I shall be hanged on that side, and to speak  
My own Conscience, I have deserved it.  Wild. 
No, to lie in Prison for concealing Cavaliers,  
Will be great merit; and let me tell you as a friend,  
There's like to be a turn suddenly, 'tis thought the  
General will declare like an honest man, I say  
No more; therefore carry yourself moderately,  
This accident may chance to do you good service,  
If you have the grace to make the right use on't:  
But how came Eugenio and Horatio of a side?  Fore. 
I came but just now among 'em, and know  
Nothing; but 'tis a strange thing a man can't be  
Believed in his own defence: carry me to Prison?  
I'll see what Justices hand they have for't.  Offic. 
We shall find hands enough, ne'er fear it.  Exeunt omnes.   

ACT V.  

SCENE I.  Enter Philander Solus. Phil. 
'TIs strange I nothing of Eugenio hear,  
So long an absence may be worth a fear:  
His friendship was not wont to hide from me  
Of his most secret thoughts the new Decree.  
I doubt his Love impatient of delay,  
Has to Althaea found some desperate way,  
His passion could not my slow cure attend,  
On which, alas, he did in vain depend.  
I was to blame, no sooner to provide  
Against deluded hope's unruly tide;  
Which now I fear has born him on a shelf,  
Where he'll unkindly perish by himself.  Enter Diana in Man's clothes. 
Ha! a strange face! would I had not been seen;  
But 'tis too good for Treason to lurk in.  
Sure Gentle youth the place you have mistook,  
I cannot be the man for whom you look.  Dian. 
Philander in your troubled face I read  
Some apprehensions that you are betrayed:  
But when you shall my woeful story hear,  
A Juster sorrow will remove your fear.  Phil. 
Thou hast my name, and yet I know thee not,  
Quickly untie sweet youth this painful knot.  Dian. 
Know you this hand?  Phil. 
Alas it is my own,  
This from Eugenio could be had or none:  
Speak, is he dead? is this his Legacy?  
And has he sent it, gentle youth, by thee?  
Has he Horatio fought? killing, or slain,  
He almost equally would breed my pain.  Dian. 
He and Horatio fought, but on a side.  Phil. 
What wonder beyond this can Fate provide.  
I knew, Eugenio, thou wert always brave,  
And that thy Love was still thy Honours slave.  Dian. 
On your friends part you have the virtue brought,  
But 'twas Horatio for Eugenio fought.  Phil. 
Such a prodigious union could not fail.  Dian. 
A Band of Soldiers did o'er both prevail.  Phil. 
Is my unhappy friend a Prisoner made?  Dian. 
He is, and close in the White Tower laid:  
He bade me tell you so, that you might shun  
The desperate hazard that his life must run.  Phil. 
How came he, gentle youth, thus to expose  
My life to one whom he so little knows?  Dian. 
I am his near Relation, and have been  
Privy to all Designs he has been in.  
He bids you to remove without delay,  
For you're endangered hourly by your stay:  
The Soldiers about him a Paper took,  
Which, though obscurely, of your Lodging spoke.  Phil. 
In vain we to that wretch good counsel give,  
Resolved to perish, and unfit to live:  
When he is gone, what business have I here?  
What can again be worth a hope or fear?  
The hour he dies this shall be my relief,  pointing to his Sword. 
If I could need another wound than grief.  Dian. 
How can you hope to please Eugenio's Ghost,  
In killing him whom he esteems the most?  
In life our friends we choose, but those we hate  
We rather wish Companions of our Fate:  
If I a present to his shade would send,  
It should be of his Foe, and not his Friend.  
But yet I hope Eugenio may escape;  
Safety has come in an unlooked for shape.  Phil. 
That hope alone makes me consent to live.  Dian. 
Can you for life no other reason give▪  Phil. 
None that, alas! is fit for thee to hear.  Dian. 
Does then Diana's heart so vile appear?  Phil. 
I hope thou wilt my better Genius prove,  
Since thus thou know'st my business and my love.  Dian. 
She tells me you have often filled her Ears  
With gentle words, and wet her arms with tears;  
Vowed that your hope and fear, grief, and delight,  
Her frowns or favours only could excite.  Phil. 
Why so I did, sweet youth, and told her true,  
But I'm amazed it should be known by you.  Dian. 
Of late she has worn a face of discontent,  
That seemed neglected friendship to lament:  
Eugenio. to her Sister found a way,  
Though various hazards in his passage lay.  Phil. 
Unwisely he the short-lived pleasure sought,  
Too soon 'twas paid for, and too dearly bought▪  
Like Orpheus for one poor untimely look,  
He has the hope of all he loved forsook.  Dian. 
That haste expressed a passion, though to blame:  
Impatience is of love the best extreme.  Phil. 
That Heir's accursed, that for a present sum  
Resigns the hope of all he has to come.  
I would Diana to the world prefer,  
And for her venture any thing but her.  
But, gentle youth, methinks thou speak'st as though  
Thou mad'st a doubt, whether I loved or no.  Dian. 
Pray Heaven Diana mayn't: your fault was great,  
To think of Honour when the day was set  
For Hymen's Rites; when nought else could destroy  
Your hopes, which then were ripening into joy,  
You were a Traitor to the State declared,  
And in the glittering toils of Fate ensnared.  Phil. 
Be witness Heaven, and all ye Powers above,  
That see our infant passions weakly move,  
ere they have force into the face to climb,  
Or to one action can our wills incline,  
If ever, for one moment, in my breast  
I gave to any (she inspired not) rest.  Dian. 
Why did you then such daring projects frame,  
And danger court that not concerned your flame?  Phil. 
'Tis true, before I knew Diana's charms,  
I courted Fame in danger and in Arms,  
And thought no Cause could lasting glory bring,  
Like the just quarrel of our injured King.  
Eugenio's friendship too that Fire improved,  
And made me wed that Cause I ever loved:  
What since I did was on a former score,  
My Fate she can't condemn, but must deplore.  
I was in honour preengaged too far,  
ere to retire, and yet to merit her.  
But whence couldst thou this hated knowledge gain?  
He worse than kills, who makes me live in pain:  
Thy Beauty, Youth, and Words do all persuade,  
Thou happy in her nearest trust art made.  Diana here drops a Ring, pulling out a Handkerchief. 
Ye Gods! the Ring I to Diana sent!  
Do not frail man beyond his Nature tempt.  
The good thou hast done, I thus forget it all,  
And let my vengeance on my Rival fall.  [He draws. 
Draw, or I'll leave thee dead upon the ground.  She pulls off her Periwig. Dian. 
I dare not draw— and sure you dare not wound.  Phil. 
With sudden light I for a while am blind,  
I sought a Rival, and a Mistress find;  
Where I thought all my rage, my love is due,  
So high a pitch my wishes never flew;  
I am not by degrees to pleasure led,  
Nor slowly made the doubtful steps to tread,  
But in an instant, my exalted mind  
Feels all her hopes set free, and fears confined:  
So Kings in Battles that they gave for gone,  
Redeem their own and win another Crown.  Dian. 
That Faith, which nothing should in question bring,  
From a few words you doubt, and from a Ring:  
How can I hope a lasting friendship, where  
So light appearance brings so mean a fear?  Phil. 
Such a surprise a jealous pang might give  
To any breast where so much love does live.  
But why, Diana, in this strange disguise?  
Was it to make me happier by surprise?  Dian. 
Could I my fear, as well as love o'ercome,  
You'd been preserved, and never known by whom;  
Such a concern I would not have betrayed,  
Till I were surer of your passion made.  Phil. 
What accident ill understood, could prove  
Of that dire force to make you doubt my love?  
You needs must know how we were all betrayed,  
And the hard 'scape I and Eugenio made;  
And since, it had been fatal to be seen,  
So that this Chamber my whole world has been.  Dian. 
What made me doubt, it matters not to know,  
Let it suffice I do no longer so.  
The dreadful Sword, which at my breast you held,  
Though with much fear, I with more joy beheld:  
For he that truly does his Rival hate,  
Declares he loves his Mistress at that rate.  Phil. 
Look on thyself, and measure thence my love,  
Think what a flame so bright a form must move:  
That Knot be confident will ever last,  
Which Passion tied, and Reason has made fast.  Dian. 
Farewell, Philander, think on what I've said,  
And kindly judge the weakness of a Maid.  Phil. 
Thou art too cruel in so short a stay;  
Thus would I gaze my very sight away.  Dian. 
Though for your safety nothing was too dear,  
Now give me leave for my own self to fear.  [Ex. Diana Phil. 
She has appeared like Lightning to my sight,  
Which when 'tis vanished, leaves a darker night.  [Exit Philander. Enter. Ostrich and Modish. Estr. 
'Twas certainly that Rogue Wildish that betrayed  
Us; the Arbour and Bottle of Wine, were his motions.  Mod. 
Without all peradventure, you saw the  
Ladies, when they threw us off, took him home  
With 'em, nothing could be plainer— what think  
You if one of us fought him?  Estr. 
Why, faith I think we had e'en as good let  
That alone; hang him, he'll fight; 'twas only  
A trick he put upon us, and let's rall it off,  
And serve him in his own kind.  Mod. 
As how?  Estr. 
Do you remember a certain Cousin of his  
That Everyoung carried us to, the Widow of  
A rich Alderman, who died suddenly, and left her  
All he had? this Widow he intends for Sir Samuel  
Forecast, and I make no question but he is to have  
A round Sum for his good word.  
What think you now, if I order it, that one  
Of us marry this Widow, than I hope  
We are sufficiently revenged?  Mod. 
But how is't possible?  Estr. 
Nothing so easy: her Maid has promised me  
To persuade her to take a walk in the Mulberry▪  
Garden; this is a time there is little or no  
Company there, 'tis but waiting at the door  
With a trusty 〈…〉  
Force her whither 〈…〉  
Her own accord she'll 〈…〉  Mod. 
Why so?  Estr. 
If for no other, for the same reason that th●●  
Eat Horseflesh in a Siege; because she can come  
At nothing else.  Mod. 
If it were a foolish Girl, we might do  
Somewhat with her indeed; but these Widows  
Are like old Birds not to be tamed she'll fight and  
Scratch, and fly about, there will be no enduring her.  Estr. 
Fear nothing: when she considers she has no  
Other way to save her Reputation, she'll hear reason.  Mod. 
Well; but being equal Adventurers, how  
Shall we agree about the Prize?  Estr. 
He that marries her, shall give the other a  
Statute upon his Estate, for two thousand  
Pounds, a pretty good Sum, and will serve to stop a gap.  Mod. 
Content, and I wish thee joy of her  
With all my heart.  Estr. 
You shall find me as good a Paymaster  
As her Husband the old Alderman would  
Have been: but stand close, here she comes.  Enter the Widow and her Maid, they 〈◊〉 'um. Wid. 
Thiefs, Murderer's, Villains what do you mean?  Estr. 
Nothing, nothing, but lie make bold to stop  
That pretty mouth of thine, Widow, for once.  They carry 'em off. Mod. 
Whither shall we carry 'um?  Estr. 
To a little house I have taken a quarter of  
A mile off for that purpose, where no body  
Could hear 'em, though they had Falconers  
Or huntsmen's voices.  [Exeunt. Enter Sir. John Everyoung, and Sir Samuel Forecast. Ever. 
Give you joy, Brother, give you joy.  Fore. 
Of what?  Ever. 
Why, of your Lieutenancy, of the Tower  
Know you can be here upon no other 〈◊〉 and  
Indeed your fidelity to the 〈…〉  Fore. 
Sir, give you joy of your new suit, and  
Fair Periwig there.  Ever. 
Faith, Brother, it site with no Fortune  
To day, what are's the matter, I was never  
Worse put together in all my life, and but to  
Congratulate your advancement, would not  
Have left the Company I dined with.  Fore. 
I hope to return your kind Visit in the Fleet,  
And see your Daughters sell Ale and Cakes there,  
And your Worship with fewer Trappings on;  
For thither your extravagant Courses point.  Ever. 
May my Petriwig never know a good day,  
Nor be taken for my own half again,  
But come off always with my Hat, if it  
Cost me above twelve pounds.  Fore. 
Pox on your Hat, and your Periwig, can you  
Tell how I shall get out?  Ever. 
No more than how you got in; but you are  
Wise, and know business: alas, I know nothing  
But how to sort Ribbons, make Horse-matches,  
Throw away my money at Dice, and keep my  
Self out of the Tower.  Fore. 
O my ungracious Girls!  Ever. 
What of them? have they broke prison,  
And taken Sanctuary in the Arms of some sturdy  
Prentice, Fencing-master, Brother of the Blade,  
Or any other inferior Rascat? you were  
So strict to 'em, I never looked for other.  Fore. 
Not so fast; but if you can be serious for  
A minute, do: they are virtuous, but Eugenio  
A former Servant to Althaea, since declared  
A Traitor to the State, was taken in my house;  
I suspected to have been privy to his being  
There, and so carried along with him hither:  
I protested my Innocence to the Officers, urged  
My former Service, but all would nor do.  Ever. 
'Slight of hope you had more wit, this is  
The happiest accident that ever 〈…〉  
For an old notorious, Round-head to be taken  
For a Cavalier at this time; why I never  
Thought it had been in you, this was a Stratagem  
Might have become Machewile himself▪  Fore. 
Why, what's the matter? all's well I hope.  Ever. 
Yes, never better, the General has this day to  
Some persons of quality declared for the King;  
All Cavaliers are immediately to have their  
Liberty; therefore make haste to reconcile  
With Eugenio and Philander: I have an order  
For the delivery of all such Prisoners as are  
Here upon the account of Loyalty to their Prince.  Fore. 
Philander and Eugenio, on my Daughter's  
Account, will do me all the service they can, and I  
Hope to make some advantage of this imprisonment,  Ever. 
I'll go and release Eugenio, and bring him  
To you; Horatio is discharged already: though,  
We fall out now and then about trifles, we are  
Brothers, and aught to serve one another  
In matters of concern.  [Exeunt. Enter. Victoria, Olivia, and Wildish. Wild. 
You see now, Ladies, what Fellows you cast  
Your good opinions on: if I said any thing  
That was disrespectful to either of you,  
It ought to go for nothing, I was merely  
Your decoy in the business.  Oliv. 
We are very well satisfied on all hands.  Vict. 
Sure they'll never have the impudence  
To trouble us again.  Oliv. 
Now would I were married to Ostrich,  
That I might plague him soundly.  Wild. 
How can you make that a Plague, Madam?  Oliv. 
A hundred ways: I would never come  
Home till three a clock in the morning;  
Tumble my own Handkerchief myself, to make  
Him jealous; break his soundest sleeps in  
Commendation of his bosom-friend, and never  
Leave till I have made 'em quarrel; fold up  
All manner of Papers, like Love-Letters,  
And burn 'em just as he comes into th' Room.  Wild. 
I can tell you how to be revenged on him  
Beyond all this.  Oliv. 
Prithee how, Wildish?  Wild. 
Why, marry me, make a good Wife to me,  
And let him hang himself for rage.  Oliv. 
I am not so inveterate an Enemy, I'll forgive  
Him rather: if I were your Wife, I must board  
Half a year with a Friend in the Country, tumble  
About the other half in most villainous Hackneys,  
Lie two pair of Stairs high, and wear black  
Farrendine the whole year about; see you when  
You had no Money to play, and then be kissed out  
Of a Ring or a Bracelet.  Wild. 
I would not use a City Widow of five and fifty so,  
With seven small Children: and am I to suffer  
Nothing all this while?  Oliv. 
What can you suffer?  Wild. 
Why, the loss of that which is dearer than life,  
My liberty; be known for a married man, and so  
Put myself out of all capacity, of breaking Gold,  
Promising marriage, or any other way of  
Ensuring myself to scrupulous young Virgins  
I shall like hereafter.  Oliv. 
That is to be taken from the occasion of  
Playing the Rascal: is that all?  Wild. 
Not half; if I make but love to a Chambermaid,  
I shall be answered, you have a sweet Lady of your  
Own, and why will you wrong her? if I get  
Acquainted with any young woman, after the fourth  
Or fifth visit, be looked upon by her Father and Mother,  
Worse than the Tax-Gatherers in a Country Village;  
All this you count nothing.  Oliv. 
Not to a Lover, Wildish,  Wild. 
Well, there is no service so desperate,  
That a gallant man will shrink at, if he like  
His reward; and to give his hand thus to a woman,  
In him that rightly understands what he does,  
Is as bold an action as Mutius 〈◊〉: yet  
That I may use it hereafter where and when I please,  
Upon my dear Olivia I'll venture it.  Oliv. 
Softly, when you please, and where I please.  Wild. 
Content Madam: will you do us the favour to  
Be a Witness?  Vict. 
Well Mr. Wildish I'll dance barefoot  
To serve you.  Wildish leads off Olivia. Oliv. 
Hold, hold Wildish, my heart fails me.  Mild. 
'Slight, I had a qualm too, there's certainly  
A more than ordinary providence attends me;  
I shall scape yet, I am now in a twitter,  
Like a Gamester upon a great by, that is  
Heartily afraid he shall lose it, and yet his  
Love to the money won't suffer him to draw  
Stakes. I must have her.  Vict. 
Nay, now you are come thus far, e'ne go on,  Oliv. 
Well, Wildish, give me thy hand; the first  
Time thou anger'st me, I'll have a Gallant;  
And the next, make thee a Cuckold.  [Extunt. Enter. Horatio and Althaea. Hora. 
Madam, you know your Father does command.  
That you should shortly give me your fair hand  
Before a Priest; but since find no part  
Goes along with it of your generous heart,  
My mind the charming present can refuse,  
Fearing t'indulge a passion you accuse;  
My joy with your least trouble weighed must still  
Appear, to my own self the greater ill.  Alth. 
Such words as these, Horatio, but heap more  
Upon a debt that was too great before;  
I'm covered with confusion when I weigh  
How much I owe, how little I can pay:  
You may with ease a fairer Mistress find,  
And with more ease such worth will make her kind;  
And if I e'er that happy Virgin know,  
I'll sue to make her pay you what I owe.  Hora. 
To change your thoughts, I will no longer try,  
But with the stream I cannot turn, comply  
I to Victoria will my suit renew,  
And hope to find an Advocate in you.  Alth. 
You may command me, and Victoria's mind  
Is of itself to you too well inclined.  Hora. 
All this methinks should your belief persuade,  
I no contrivance with those Villains had,  
To take my Rival in so mean a way,  
But only came their sudden rage to stay:  
All that confusion, and surprise could do,  
My passion made me apprehend for you.  Alth. 
Horatio's Honour does too brightly shine,  
To be accused of such a low design;  
Had you within the bounds of friendship stayed,  
Yourself and me you had both happy made.  Hora. 
With ease from friendship we to love are led,  
That slippery path who can securely tread?  Enter Sir. Samuel Forecast, Sir John Everyoung, and Eugenio. Alth. 
I see my Father, and Eugenio here,  
And in all faces sudden joys appear.  Forecast, Everyoung, and Horatio seem to discourse. Euge. 
Fortune, I pardon thee thy short-lived spite,  
I for thy constant temper took a fit,  
thouart kind, and gentle, and 'tis we are blind,  
Who do mistrust the ways thou hast designed  
To make us blessed, though better than our own.  Alth. 
Can you have joy, and yet Althaea none▪  Euge. 
May I all misery first undergo,  
ere joy divided from Althaea know.  Alth. 
What is this wonder hangs upon thy tongue  
Delay does only to ill news belong.  Euge. 
Madam, your Father licenses my flame,  
And you alone can now oppose my claim;  
That Cause which Arms did in vain support,  
And noblest spirits did, successless, court  
We in a bloodless triumph shining see,  
Without the dire effects of Victory.  
For in the General's breast (the noblest Scene)  
The Fate of England has transacted been:  
On Albion's Throne he will our Monarch place,  
Our Neighbour's terror, and our Nation's grace,  
Whilst at his blessed approach, all factious minds  
Vanish, like leaves before Autumnal Winds.  Alth. 
Such truth in love and loyalty you've shown,  
What less for both could by just Heaven be done?  Euge. 
This happiness, though great, yet is not all,  
My dearest friend I soon shall Brother call;  
Diana must his deathless Flame repay.  Alth. 
Fate, to be pardoned, had no other way.  Euge. 
See how your Father kindly strives to evade  
His former promise to Horatio made.  Alth. 
That work's so nobly in his breast begun,  
That a few words will finish what's undone:  
Horatio. does all happiness despise,  
From my obedience, which my love denies.  Forecast to Eugenio. Fore. 
Horatio has released me of my promise to him,  
And seeing your changeless love to one another,  
Was resolved to have moved it to me, if I had  
Not prevented him.  Euge. 
Such honour, noble youth, I must confess,  
Gives wonder equal to my happiness.  Hora. 
Althaea. I resign, my guilty flame  
Was too unjust to reach so fair an aim:  
Victoria's. wrongs did my success oppose,  
And my lost passion it's own penance grows.  
So some Offenders are their duty taught  
By th'ill effect and nature of their fault.  Eug. 
My apprehensions by these words are cleared.  
And I dare love that Virtue which I feared.  
In love alone this mystery we find,  
Men best agree when of a different mind.  Hor. 
There now remains but one thing more to do,  
'Tis that Philander may be sent for too.  
But see he comes.  [Enter Philander. Fore. 
Brother, if your Daughter were here, we  
Might have a Dance.  
Sir, you are heartily welcome, I kept my Girl  
Safe for you, she has not been so much as blown  
Upon since you saw her; I knew honest men  
Would not be always kept from their own,  
There would come a time.  Phil. 
Sir, I was ever most obliged to you—  
Eugenio here! then I am doubly blessed,  
And only fear to be with joy oppressed.  Euge. 
The joys of Friendship well prepare our mind  
For the high raptures we in love shall find:  
The name of Brothers we shall soon obtain.  Phil. 
Friendship so perfect by no name can gain.  Enter Diana. 
Fate is at length ashamed, or weary grown  
Upon a Flame you smiled so long, to frown;  
As Vessels tossed upon the raging Main,  
With greater joy the wished-for Port obtain;  
Our love this short, fierce tempest having passed,  
Will joys more high, since less expected, taste.  Dian. 
But in the Storm did you throw nothing out?  Phil. 
Wrong not my love with so unkind a doubt.  Enter Ever. Vict. Oliv. Wild. Ever. 
Wildish, thou'rt an honest fellow, I'm glad  
I found thee.  Wild. 
Sir, the honest fellow desires to be known to  
You by another name, having newly married your  
Daughter Olivia.  Ever. 
When, pray Mr. Wildish?  Wild. 
Just now, Sir, the words are scarce out of our Mouths.  Ever. 
Well, this is a day I could not have been angry  
If thou hadst got her with Child upon a Contract;  
But you might have asked my leave, ere you  
Went about to make me a Grandfather.  Wild. 
If I had had a good Jointure to offer, so I  
Would, but if I do make you a Grandfather,  
'Tis not done maliciously, I'll swear.  Hora. 
My guilty Cause myself I dare not plead,  
But beg your innocence will intercede:  
Since all my fault your matchless beauty made,  
Your goodness now should my excuse persuade.  Alth. 
I in Victoria will my interest try,  
You, and me both, she hardly shall deny.  Hora. 
Victoria's. mind I cannot hope to move,  
Unless a Parent's power assist my love;  
Her duty will not your commands withstand,  
She'll take a worthless Servant from your hand.  Ever. 
I'm sure she can have no exception to so  
Deserving a person as Horatio; Lovers, like Spaniels, do  
But show their metal in a little ranging: though you  
Had a twittering to Althaea, you'll make ne'er the  
Worse Husband to Victoria. Victoria!  Vict. 
Sir, what's your pleasure?  Ever. 
That which will prove yours in the end: I  
Charge you upon my blessing, give Horatio your  
Hand, go and be married with your Cousins,  
And make but one work of it.  Vict. 
Sir, I am all obedience: who e'er strove  
At once against her duty, and her lover.  Wild. 
But Ostrich, what fine Lady have you got there  Estr. 
A certain Widow which I have cast my  
Self away upon: a Kinswoman of yours, Wildish,  
That you formerly designed for the Right Worshipful  
Sir, Formal there: do you know her now?—  
Sir we made bold with her without your consent.  Wild. 
Old acquaintance, I saith, how is't? I have made  
As bold, and been as welcome too, as e'er you'll be  
Sir: but why did you steal a marriage thus?  Wid. 
You know I always loved stolen pleasures, but  
This marriage stole me; your old Knight was  
Uncertain, came on by inches, this Gentleman  
Leapt into the matter, forced me into a Coach, and  
Married me in an instant: I could have been  
Content to have been a Lady, that I might have  
Taken place of my Mistress when she comes to Town.  
But a Bird in the hand—.  Estr. 
Why, have you a Mistress?  Wid. 
As sure as you have had a hundred,  
And now have a Wife.  Mod. 
I doubt as things go, I shall scarce find you  
As good a Paymaster as the old Alderman.  Ostrich pulls his hand from her, and looks angry. Wild. 
Nay, never use her ill now, 'twas none of her  
Fault, she is a very good Creature, and one  
That I placed to personate my Cousin, on purpose  
To catch Sir Samuel Forecast; you know he  
Took the forfeiture of a Mortgage that concerned  
A very good Friend of mine, and I was resolved to  
Be revenged of him; if you will needs run your  
Head into the Noose that's prepared for another,  
Who can help it? my Cousin is married in Ireland,  
Whither she went last Summer to look after  
Some money, due to her last Husband.  Wid. 
I am her Housekeeper though, and can bid  
You welcome till she returns.  Oliv. 
A pretty pert thing, I like her humour, she  
Carries it off well: but Wildish, you shall visit  
Her no more now we are married.  Wild Fear not, Ostrich will take order for that. Horatio to Victoria. Hora. 
How I do hate myself! that could so long  
At once such Beauty and such Goodness wrong.  Vict. 
My kindness has forgot you were to blame,  
You guilt consumed in your reviving flame.  Ever. 
Now you are all paired, let's have a Dance.  After the Dance, a great shout within. Euge. 
I hear the people's voice in joyful cries,  
Like conquering Troops o'er flying Enemies;  
They seem to teach us in a ruder way  
The Honour due to this all-healing day.  Phil. 
Let's part a while, and vie who shall express  
The highest sense of this great happiness.     

Epilogue.  
POets of all men have the hardest Game,  
Their best Endeavours can no Favours claim.  
The Lawyer, if o'erthrown, though by the Laws,  
He quits himself, and lays it on your Cause.  
The Soldier is esteemed a Man of War,  
And Honour gains, if he but bravely dare.  
The grave Physician, if his Patient die,  
He shakes his head, and blames Mortality.  
Only poor Poets their own faults must bear,  
Therefore grave judges be not too severe:  
Our Author humbly hopes to scape your Rage,  
Being no known Offender on the Stage,  
He came by chance, is a mere Traveller;  
All Country's Civil unto Strangers are:  
Yet faith he's armed how ere your Censures go,  
And can prevent the harm, though not the blow.  
No Poet can from this one Comfort fall,  
The best ne'er pleased, nor worst displeased you all.  
FINIS.