THE Female Vertuoso's. A COMEDY: As it is Acted at the QUEEN's THEATRE, By Their Majesty's Servants. Written by Mr. THOMAS WRIGHT.  
Oh, what a Midnight Curse has he, whose Side  
Is pestered with a Mood and Figure Bride!  
Let mine, ye Gods! if such must be my Fate,  
No Logic learn, nor History translate,  
But rather be a quiet, humble Fool;  
I hate a Wife to whom I go to School.  Dried. Juv. Sat. 6. 
LONDON, Printed by J. wild, for R. Vincent, in Cliffords-Inn-lane, Fleetstreet, 1693.   

To the Right Honourable, CHARLES, EARL of WINCHELSEA, etc.  
My LORD,  
WERE we to judge of Men by the Dedications of this Age, we should have now as many Hero's as ever fought for the Conquest of Troy and Carthage, as many Politicians as ever sat in the Senate of Rome, and as many true Wits as ever flourished in the Times of Augustus: But such is the fulsome and lavish Flattery of our mercenary Writers, that it is almost become a Reproach to a Patron to be Commended; for while their common Topics of Praise, applied right or wrong, make all alike, What Rule can we go by, to make a difference between a Coxcomb and a Man of Merit?  
Having therefore so far studied your Lordship, as to be satisfied, That you hate Commendation as much as you deserve it; I shall forbear imposing upon your Patience and Modesty with a large and methodical Account of your own Virtues, I leave to the World the Pleasure to find 'em out; they are too many, to be concealed long; and too great, not to be admired as soon as known.  
And without the Ceremony of a tedious Apology, I crave Your Lordship's Patronage for my FEMALE VERTUOSO's; the Design of which, as it was drawn some Years ago from the great Original of French Comedy, by an Ingenious Friend of mine, who bears now too serious a Character in the World, not to reckon such a Trifle among his Delicta Juventutis, was last Winter, by my Importunities, extorted from him.  
I shall not tyre your Lordship with an Account of some frivolous Objections raised against this First Essay of mine, by the factious Demi-Wits of the Town, who judge of a PLAY, not by the standing Rules of Art, they never understood, but by the narrow Fancy, or mere Caprice, of some Conceited Fops their devout Ignorance adores, as Oracles of Sense and Ingenuity.  
I shall only take notice to Your Lordship, That the nice and more judicious sort of Critics, whose Approbation only a Writer should value, have observed, That my Vertuoso's stretch in their Projects beyond the Limits of Nature and Reason; I do here, with the Candour of an Author not yet hardened in the vicious habit of Scribbling, freely own it appeared so to me, at first; but having, besides some modern Poets, Aristophanes for a Pattern, I thought that what diverted the Ancients, might meet with some Indulgence from our English Audience. I am sure, the Athenians could laugh to see no less a Man than Socrates exposed upon their Stage, 
See the Clouds, Act. 2. Scene 2.  for contriving a ridiculous way to measure the Jump of a Flea; but we are grown Serious, and cannot relish Fooleries: I submit, only desiring my Judges to remember that a Poet may challenge it, not only as his Excuse, but his Privilege, to carry sometimes a Jest beyond the Bounds:  
— Liberius si  
Dixero quid, si forte Jocosius, hoc mihi Juris cum venia dabis.  Horace. 
I am, MY LORD, Your Lordship's Most Humble and most Devoted Servant, THO. WRIGHT.   

PROLOGUE, Written by Mr. Doggett, and spoken by him.  
Enraged to find you never do come near  
The Theatre, but when New Plays are here;  
I'm come to tell you with a serious Face,  
Loathing of Wit does show a want of Grace.  
The Time has been, when Sense has so prevailed,  
That of full Houses we have never failed,  
The Boxes still with Beauties filled; the Pit  
Was crowded every day with Men of Wit;  
The Galleries served for poor unthinking Citt.  
Side-Boroughs stowed Masks, and keeping Cullies;  
And the Stage kept free from Beaux and Bullies:  
There was some other Vermin up and down,  
But they for fear of losing Half a Crown,  
Prepare for flight, like Owls at Evening Dawn,  
And take to Wing before the Curtain's drawn;  
Leaves us here to talk to empty Benches;  
You to Whores, and Fools to Orange-Wenches.  
This makes me speak, these Grievances o'th'Age,  
The Poet's Bane, and Ruin of the Stage,  
The Fatal Cause that makes me look so thin;  
IT has left me nothing on my Bones but Skin:  
My Legs with Pain my Body long has carried,  
I'm grown so weak— some cry— Look!— he's married;  
As if there was no other Plague, but Wife,  
To make a Man a weary of his Life:  
We have a greater Curse to pull us down,  
In being forced to please a barbarous Town;  
Who damn all Wit, but what they call their own.   

Dramatis Personae.  

MEN.  Sir Maurice Meanwell, An honest rich Citizen. Mr. Underhill. Meanwell, his Brother. Mr. Hodgson. Sir Timothy Witless, A Country Gentleman. Mr. Bright. Wittless, A Cambridge Scholar. Mr. Doggett. Sir Maggot Jingle, A Parasitical Knight, pretending to Poetry. Mr. Bowman. Clerimont, A Gentleman of the Town, in love with Mariana. Mr. powel. Engross, A Serivener. Mr. Trap, Mr. Witless his Man. Mr. Bowen. Pickpockets.  Bully. Mr. Hains.  

WOMEN.  Lady Meanwell, An imperious Wife; great Pretender to Wit. Mrs. Leigh. Lovewitt, Lady Meanwell's Daughter by a former Husband; an Admirer of Platonic Love, yet in Love with Clerimont. Mrs. Knight. Mariana, Sir Maurice's Daughter by a former Wife. Mrs. Bracegirdle. Catchat, Lady Meanwell's Sister, a stolen Virgin, who fancies every Man is in Love with her. Mrs. Mountfort. Lucy, Mariana's Maid. Mrs. Rogers.  
Scene, LONDON.   

THE Female Vertuoso's.  

ACT I.  

SCENE, Sir Maurice Meanwell 's House:  Enter Lovewitt, and Mariana. Lovewitt. 
LOok you, Sister, if you have a Mind we should live civilly together, pray not a word more of that monstrous filthy thing Marriage, fough!  Mar. 
Not of Marriage, Sister? you Jest sure.  Lov. 
Oh for Shame forbear! Can Flesh and Blood hear the Word, and keep within Bounds? The very sound of it leaves such an impression of filthiness and obscenity in the Mind, that I have need of all my Morals to silence Nature in me: Bless me! What refined Soul can bear the impure Consequences of so nauseous a Thing?  Mar. 
Without much Conjuring; when I reflect on Marriage, all I can see in it, is a dear Husband that will love me, pretty Children that will play about me, and a House of my own to manage: and, for my part, I cannot perceive what there is in any of these Things offends Decency, or shocks good Manners.  Lov. 
Jesus! That One born with a Spirit, capable of sublime and lofty Things, should foolishly limit herself to the enjoyment of so mean, and so despicable a Creature as Man!  Mar. 
Believe me, Sister, 'tis not prudence in frail Woman to Huff and Hector; for either she yields in time; and then how insultingly does a Man triumph o'er her conquered Pride? Or if, to the last, she can boast of the venerable Title of Virgin, Does not the satirical World ridicule her Wisdom, and mock her Singularity? Till almost choked with Vapours, and devoured with Spleen, she makes in Policy a poor shift to rail at Men that scorn her; and grudging to the Young the Joys she has outlived, she pines away with Envy, and dies a fretting Martyr for a reproachful Cause.  Lov. 
Poor Soul! how deeply is the Spirit in you immersed in the foul Abyss of your Senses. Go on pretty Miss, please yourself with fond and airy Notions. But know this, That if there be Fancy in your Choice, there is Judgement in mine. To Philosophy, and not to Man, do I give the Empire of myself; I scorn to yield to common Laws, and to make that Reason a Slave to Mankind, which kind Heaven imparted free to me.  Mar. 
This is Heroic indeed: but, pray good Sister, with all your Wit, can you answer me this Question? What sort of Figure had you made in the World, had your wise progenitors always been wrapped up in lofty Speculations, or musing upon musty Books; had they never condescended to talk familiar Things, and now and then discoursed plain Nature together? Well, since I cannot be a Wit myself, I'll try to bring Wits, and to stock the World with little Doctors, that shall propagate Learning to all Generations.  Lov. 
I pity you, poor Sister: But pray, since you are so very fond of that Ceremonious Piece of Ruin, let's hear at least, who is the worthy Object of your Inclinations,— I hope, not Clerimont?  Mar. 
Why not Clerimont, pray? Does he want Merit? Is his Estate so mean? or, Is there any Thing in his Person should make one blush at the Choice?  Lov. 
I do not say there is; but you cannot be ignorant that he is mine already by right of Conquest.  Mar. 
Lord, Sister, must then so vast, and so sublime a Genius as yours, limit itself to the Enjoyment of so mean a Creature as Man!  Lov. 
Reason, which is my Guide, and not my Tyrant, does not disapprove of the Courtship of a Man of Virtue; tho' I may hate him for a Husband, yet he may please me well enough, under the Title of an Admirer.  Mar. 
Passionate Speeches, Fond Addresses, Platonic Gallantry, and such Toys, may feed up the Vanity of a Woman: But, Sister, Are you sure Love has nothing more to desire?  Lov. 
Thanks to my Wit, I can answer for One; and I should make a sad Example of the daring Mortal, that should attempt to rifle the precious Magazine of my Chastity.  Mar. 
But after all, What Assurance have you, that Clerimont is yours?  Lov. 
Surely, after a Thousand Declarations of his Love, I think, Sister, I may rely upon his Sincerity in spite of Rivals.  [Enter Clerimont. Mar. 
I do not love to boast; but if you have a mind to try it, here comes one shall decide the Quarrel. Come on Clerimont, and without any Fear, or Partiality, disclose your Heart. My Sister challenges your Love, and I flatter myself I have a right to it; let's see in whose Favour you'll declare yourself.  [to Cler. Lov. 
I am not so fond, Sister, of a public Declaration, as to put any Man I value, to the hard Extremity, either of Dissembling, or Disobliging: the One is as unworthy of a Man of Honour, as the other is against the Rules of fine Breeding.  Cler. 
No, Madam; my Heart, incapable of Dissembling, does not scruple to own an Engagement which is the Pride and Happiness of my Life: Fair Mariana's Charms are such as will easily justify the greatest Passion in the World.  Lovew. 
But can those mighty Charms, Sir, be a good Excuse for Baseness and Infidelity?  Cler. 
Do me more Justice, Madam; and impute to yourself the blame of my Inconstancy: 'Tis that stiff and imperious Carriage of yours, that cold Indifferency you affected upon all Occasions, and your high boasting of the tyrannical Empire you exercised over me, have at last opened my Eyes, and restored me to the Use of my Reason; and can you now complain, or—  Lov. 
I Complain? No Sir, you mistake me; my Resentment would make you proud, and fancy that your Heart was a Conquest worth my keeping.  Mar. 
Now, Sister, here's a Scope for your Philosophy with a vengeance: sum up all your Morals to your Assistance; let's see if you can look upon a happy Rival with a Stoical and Undaunted Mind.  Lov. 
You triumph, Sister, in your pretty Looks, and pleasing Smiles, and think of Insulting, perhaps too soon; feed your easy, deluded Soul, with empty Dreams of Pleasure: Your Happiness is not so great, as to deserve my Envy—  
— Nor perhaps so certain yet, as not to leave me some Prospect of a Change.  [Aside, and as she is going off. [Exit. Cler. 
However she may endeavour to disguise it, I am satisfied, she is not a little offended at the Sincerity of my Declaration.  Mar. 
But I am pleased with it; and without the laborious Task of two years Love you have bestowed on her in vain, I give you leave to think me not Ungrateful.  Cler. 
Still as you speak, my Love discerns fresh Wonders; and to that free and generous Temper, so opposite to the little Artifices and Dissimulation of your Sex, do I resign all the Liberty your other Charms have left me.  Mar. 
Mistake me not, Clerimont; I set as high a Value upon the Modesty of our Sex, as the best Moralists of 'em all; but yet I see no reason why we should keep a Lover at such a distance, when we are once satisfied of his Worth and Sincerity; since all the Incense after that exacted, serves only to gratify the two great Idols of our Souls, Pride and Vanity, and gives no real Satisfaction either to Reason or Reputation.  Cler. 
Nay, proves often a piece of Policy very fatal to the Proud and Scornful of your Sex; for their Vanity forcing thus a pining Lover to spend his whole Stock of Love in Courtship, the Consequence of it, is, That he has none left for Marriage.  Enter Lucy to Clerimont and Mariana. Lucy, 
Oh, Madam, I am quite out of breath!  Mar. 
What's the matter now, Lucy?  Lucy, 
The Matter? only Treason, High-Treason plotting against you two within.  Cler. 
I dare lay a Wager, your Sister's Jealousy has been at work.  Lucy, 
'Tis even so; I never saw her Philosophy so ruffled before.  Mar. 
But what was the Result of it, Lucy? How did her Wise, her Witty Mother take it?  Lucy, 
You know her Way; she has always more Sentences in her Mouth than Teeth.  Cler. 
But still let's hear a little.  Lucy, 
With a furious train of her bombast Expressions, and a flood of Latin, which, for aught I know, was all Swearing or Conjuring, she did just now, in her Tone of Authority, pronounce, That Mariana, the Undutiful Mariana, should have no other Husband but Mr. Timothy Witless.  Mar. 
Don't you tremble, Clerimont, at the Name of your Rival?  Cler. 
No Rival, Madam, can seem dangerous to me, after your last Assurance.  Lucy, 
No; on my Conscience, you need not fear him.  Cler. 
But how came you to know that Property, Mrs. Lucy?  Lucy, 
I have seen the Coxcomb at Cambridge: he was noted there for a mighty Boaster of pretended Favours; and one could hardly name a Woman to him, but he had had the luck to lie with.  Cler. 
A Scholar, on my Word.  Lucy, 
Nay, he courted me once most fiercely; but I dreading Matrimony then, a little more than I do now, sent him packing to his Grammar: Upon this, what does my mere Scholar do, Sir, to be revenged of me, but use me just as he does his Books; for as he quotes every day Passages out of 'em, which he never read, so he boasts of Favours of mine he never enjoyed: ne'er trust me, if I have not a month's Longing, to serve him a Trick for his Impudence.  Cler. 
We'll join with you, Mrs. Lucy, I promise you: But first, Is the Man Easie? May we venture to play upon him?  Lucy, 
The Man, Sir, is an exact Tool for our purpose; a good harmless Booby; so very honest, that as he carried no Wit to Cambridge, so he has the Conscience to bring none from thence: a dull, lumpish, low-spirited Ninnie, who is contented to be a Fool by Nature, and wants the Skill of our modish Sparks to make himself a Fool by Art.  Cler. 
However, he must be removed; for in Matters of Love, a Fool is as troublesome, as a Witty Man is dangerous.  Lucy, 
I'll be content to die a Virgin, if I do not accomplish it for you.  Cler. 
Look to yourself, pretty Mrs. Lucy: You could not have bound yourself by a greater Curse.  Lucy, 
Then judge yourselves:— My Brother Trap, who waits on him at Cambridge, in the manifold Qualities of Gentleman, Footman, and Valet de Chambre, sent me word last Week, That his worthy Master was soon to set out for his Matrimonial Expedition:— He is famous for merry Tricks and Frolics; and I dare answer for his Zeal, or be bound Body for Body, that he'll be true to the Cause.  Cler. 
I desire no better Security.  Mar. 
This falls out as luckily as we could wish.  Lucy, 
I'm informed that he is expected to day; I'll send for him, as soon as I hear he is come to Town, to Consult with him, and set his Wits at work.  Mar. 
Then let's every one to our Tasks immediately: Clerimont, my Uncle Meanwell is your Friend; you may try his Interest for my Father's Consent.  Cler. 
Trust, Madam, to my Love for obeying a Command, on which all my Happiness depends; I'll about it presently, only give me leave to wait on you within.  [Exeunt.  

Scene Changes. The Street.  [Enter Witless, shaking the flappes of his Coat, and making Faces.— With him Three Pickpockets, and Trap with a Portmanteau upon his Shoulders; Witless standing between two of the Pickpockets, while the third is amusing Trap at one corner of the Stage.] Witless, 
Pox o' the Milk-woman, and my unlucky stumbling on her: she was not Pretty neither: Fough! how she has daubed me! By the University, my  have dropped as much of her Stuff, as would suckle ten Parish-Bastards.  1st. Pickpocket, 
How the busy, noisy Rabble began presently to swarm about you! 'Twas a great mercy, Sir, we came to your Rescue, they would have pulled you o' pieces else; for that untractable Crew, set up of late for Arbitrary Avengers of Wrongs, and like greedy Birds of Prey, are always flying to Mischief.  2d. Pick-p. 
I was almost in a Fury, to see a Person of Quality so abused.  Witl. 
Quality! Ay, that I am; and for my Honour let it be spoken, the very First that ever was of my Family.  1st. Pick-p. 
May I crave your Name, Sir?  Witl. 
My Name, Sir?— My Father is a Knight, and I would have the rascally Mobb to know, that he'll talk Astrology with 'em for their Ears: By the University, I'll send a Challenge to the Vermin, and try how much of the Gentleman they have in their Doublets.  2d. Pick-p. 
Challenge the Mobb? You Jest sure: The Mobb never fight; they only butcher, or knock one down, without either Method of Fencing, or Rules of Justice.  3d. Pick-p. to Trap. 
I had an itching Mind to have sent half a dozen of those Sons of Whores to their pocky Mothers, to make black Bacon of 'em.  Trap. 
Faith, I hate Bloodshed, and never was fond of Valour; I had rather live Three Days in this pretty sinning World, than a Thousand in History.  1st. Pick-p. 
I suppose you come, Sir, to make the Town happy with your Company, for some time.  Witl. 
Truly, Gentlemen, my Business in Town, is the Business of any place I live in; Love-Intrigues; nothing else: I have of late so liberally Cuckolded the whole Pody-Politick of Cambridge, Mayor, aldermans, etc. that I am forced to come up for the relish of Variety.  2d. Pick-p. 
London is a large Field for Love; you have been here, I don't question, Sir: Pray, how do you like the City?  Witl. 
The City, Sir? Faith, I think the City is well enough; but pox on't, there are so many Buildings in it, they hinder one from seeing it; would they were pulled down, we might then have a full Prospect of it.  1st. Pick-p. 
I see, Sir, so honest a Look in your Face, that with an humble Apology for my Freedom, I must give you a seasonable Caution, and that is, To take heed what Company you keep in Town; and have a vigilant Eye upon any body that comes near you; for this great City was never so pestered with Pickpockets, and busy Rogues, as it is now.  [All this while the 2 d. Pickpockets is stealing Witless 's Sword, and rifling his Pockets on one side. Witl. 
Say you so? Oh, the Villains, let me alone with them; I'll be cunning enough for 'em, I warrant you.  2d. Pick-p. 
But, Sir, what argues Impudence beyond Example? The officious Cheats will intrude themselves into your Company, upon the specious pretence of Civility: They'll make very free and extravagant Offers to you: But, Oh, the wicked Age we live in! while one of 'em is thus amusing you with some impertinent Story, the other is very busy in rifling your Pockets.  [All this while the first Pickpocket is rifling Witless his other Pockets of a Pack of Cards, a Table-Book, Papers, &c Witl. 
Odd'zookers! give me but a List of the Rogues; my Father is a Justice, and I'll see 'em hanged, every Mother's Son of 'em.  1st. Pick-p. 
You'll do, Sir, a mighty piece of Service to the Nation: We'll wait on you with a List of their Names, at a more convenient time; till then, your Servant, Sir.  [Exeunt Pickpockets. Witl. 
Gentlemen, Yours— Look to yourself, Trap, as we walk home; for these kind Gentlemen were pleased to inform me, the Town is full of Cheats and Rogues:— Would I could catch some of 'em with their Hands in my Pockets, I'd presently say to my Sword,— Sword! out of the Scabboard.— O, I am Robbed! By the University, Robbed!— my Sword:— My Purse!— Nay, the very Speech for my Mistress, is gone too! I am Undone! I shall not be Married this Week! Alack! Alack!  [Makes as if he was going to draw. [Misses his Sword. [Feels in his Pockets Trap feels in his Pockets. 
I am safe; that's well: Come, Sir, you are gulled, I see; but if the Speech be the worst of your Loss, I warrant you there is Learning enough upon my Shoulders to make a new one: Pox o' your Books! how heavy they are!— 'tis well for you, you do not load your Memory with 'em: D'Zlife! Could you not, like the rest of the Scholars, leave your Learning behind you?  Witl. 
O sweet, honey Trap, I shall never have so fine a Speech again, there was no less than three Acts of Parliament quoted in it.  Trap. 
But pray now, have you done? Shall we march on? lest your kind Gentlemen return, and ease me of my Burden.  Witl. 
Ay, Trap; Ay; only this by way of Caution; Be sure to send Word immediately to dear Lucy, Not to take any manner of notice of me, when I come to court her Mistress: I'll be for her again, tell her, as soon as I have got Mrs. Meanwell, that sweet Bird of Love, into the Cage of Matrimony; till then, Trap, no Syllable, pray, of any Night-Adventures.  Trap, 
Oh, there you are out, Sir; with Submission, I think it your Interest, the thing should be known.  Witl. 
Fie, Trap, Fie; 'twould spoil my Marriage.  Trap, 
‛ D'Zlife! quite contrary: Believe me, Sir, a Lover is valued by his Mistress, as a Soldier by his General, the better for his Experience.  Witl. 
But for all your fooling, Trap, if Sir Timothy should examine you about my Intrigues, don't you be such a Buzzard, as to own, it was upon some ill Design: Tell him only, That having often heard, that the meeting of two Maidenheads, begetteth commonly a Fool; I thought it prudence in me, to take care, the Son and Heir of my Family should not be so unlike myself.  Trap, 
Oh! If so, then by all means, your future Spouse should use the same Caution; for than your Children would be wonderful Wise:— But come, Led on, pray.  Witl. 
Oh, my Speech! 'twas a rare one:—  
Oh, my Sword! 'twas a pure Blade.—  [Going off. [Exeunt.  

SCENE Changes to Sir Maurice's House.  Enter Clerimont and Catchat. Cler. 
This Mrs. Catchat has a great Influence over the Lady Meanwell, her Sister; and if I can make her our Friend, she'll be a good Advocate for us: I'll try—  [Aside. 
Suffer, Madam, a passionate Lover to make use of this Opportunity, to discover to you the sincere—  [Addresses himself to Catchat. Catch. 
Hold, Sir, Hold; Not so fast, pray: Don't explain yourself too freely yet; there are Rules of Decency to be observed in every thing:  Cler. 
That's true, Madam: But my Passion is grown to such a height, that—  Catch. 
I know well enough, Sir, that you love me, sigh, and die for me; yet let me tell you, 'tis both prudent, and discreet, I should pretend Ignorance, at least for a time.  Cler. 
Oh, Madam, give me leave but to open my Heart to you, and you'll be satisfied, that my—  Catch. 
Believe me, Clerimont, an easy Conquest affords but little Glory: You shall value my Heart the better, if I make you pull and tug hard for it.  Cler. 
But still you mistake my Meaning, Madam; I'll explain myself better, and make you sensible, that what I wish so impatiently for, is only—  Catch, 
What! Would you come to a Conclusion so very quick? Fie, Clerimont, 'tis against the Rules. What had become of the rest of the Romance, had Mandana yielded presently to Grand Cyrus; or, Claelia fled into the Arms of Aronces at the first Intimation of his Love?  Cler. 
Let not your Heart, Madam, be so alarmed; you have no violence to fear from me: I can assure you, Mariana is the only Object of my Desires; and I want nothing to complete my Happiness, but Sir Maurice's Consent, with the Favour of your Assistance towards it.  Catch. 
Oh Sir, this Shift I must hug you for;— 'tis the prettiest ever came into a witty Man's Head. I admire your Invention; and vow in all the Romances I ever read, I hardly met with any thing more Ingenious, or better contrived.  Cler. 
This is Matter of Fact, Madam, and not of Wit: 'Tis Mariana I love, 'tis Mariana has the sole Empire of my Heart, and to obtain her is my highest Ambition.  Catch. 
Ah, good Sir, D'Autres, I understand, well enough, what it is you mean, under the disguised Name of Mariana. Poor Creature! She is but a Pretence I see; and indeed, as the case stands, 'tis well for you, Clerimont, you are not in Earnest with her; for to my knowledge, she is a Manhater.  Cler. 
Ah, Madam! Why must you so deceive yourself, as not to believe what is Truth, and fancy Things that are not?  Catch. 
No more Grimaces, as you love me; pull off the Vizard, Clerimont, and be not ashamed to own a Passion which your Looks cannot conceal.  Cler. 
Madam, I protest—  Catch. 
Nay, protest what you will, you shall sigh a little longer: 'Tis not for the Credit, and Reputation of my Charms, to take pity of a Man so soon;— tho' I confess, were I to break a Rule, there is so must Honesty in that Physiognomy of yours, that I could almost be tempted to—  [Looking with a languishing Air upon him. Cler. 
Keep to your Rules, Madam, I entreat you; but do not go on in your Error.  Catch, 
Adieu Clerimont, let this suffice for once; I have, I fear, discovered too much Weakness already: 'Tis time for my Modesty to make an honourable Retreat.  Cler. 
What, go undeceived! and still running on in that Extravagant Humour,— Madam, I tell you—  Catch. 
Pray forbear, Sir, and be not so pressing: Surely you don't design to offer Violence to my Honour.  Cler. 
May I perish, Madam, if I have such a Thought.  Catch. 
I'll hear no more, au revoir—  Cler. 
Hang me, Madam, if I love you, your—  Catch. 
I tell you, Sir, 'tis in vain, — au revoir—  [Exit. Clerimont Solus. 
Pox of her Fancies: I never met with any thing so impertinent in my Life. When a vain Woman is in Love, she must, for her own Credit, persuade herself she is beloved.  
And speaking Truth in Love, we're not believed,  
All Women like in this, to be deceived.    

ACT II.  Enter Sir Maurice, and Meanwell. Sir Maur. 
I Am overjoyed at the News, Brother; for his Father and I, were intimate Friends, and fellow Soldiers under Monk. You may assure Clerimont, that I shall be Proud of the Honour of his Alliance—  [Enter Catchat. 
But here comes my Sister; let's hear what she says to it. You come in very good time, Sister, to give your Opinion about a Match for my Daughter. Clerimont is the Man my Brother proposes: And I am so far satisfied with his Character, that I give my Consent to it.  Catch. 
My Brother Meanwell cannot be in Earnest sure. I know the thing is impossible.  Mean. 
How now, Sister, What do you mean by that?  Catch. 
Nothing Brother, but only that you are imposed, prettily imposed upon; that's all. The Gentleman's Heart, to my knowledge, is deeply engaged somewhere else.  Mean. 
You are in a merry Humour, Sister: What's the meaning of this Fooling? Pray, Is not Clerimont in Love with my Niece?  Catch. 
I have Reason to think he is not.  Man. 
D'Zlife! I have it from his own Mouth, Sister.  Catch. [Laughing.] 
Ah, ah, ah, poor Brother! How I pity your Ignorance!  Mean. 
What-a-Pox! Did not he just now desire me to propose the Match to Sir Maurice? you dote surely.  Catch. Laughing. 
Ah, ah, ah, this Plot won't take, Brother, you must think again.  Sir Maur. 
The Woman is mad with her Laughing. Where's the Jest of it pray?  Catch. 
No Jest at all, but very good Earnest I assure you Will you have it? here it is. Clerimont's Love is a Mystery, revealed, as yet, to none but me: But I'll be so kind, perhaps, as to open your Eyes, that you may see your Error.  Mean. 
Ay do: Since you pretend to know things so well, let's hear a little, where it is his Affections are so deeply engaged?  Catch. 
But tell me first, Have you a Curiosity to know it?  Sir Maur. 
Surely, I think it does concern us all to be better informed about it.  Catch. 
Shall I name the very Person?  Mean. 
Ay, ay, by all means; I'm impatient.  Catch. 
Well, since you desire it so earnestly, know Brothers, 'tis myself.  Fanning herself, and looking big. Sir Maur. 
What you! That's a very good Jest in troth. Sister, Sister, Do you know no body in Town to put this upon, but your own Brothers? Ha! ha'! ha'!  Sir Maurice, and Meanwell, fall a Laughing. Catch. 
Bless me Sirs! What means all this Wonder? You laugh, and stare, just as if I had said something extraordinary. What do you see in me pray, that's so very despicable? I am, thank God, so made, as not to need complain of Nature.  Sir Maur. 
I vow, Brother, we have been under a sad Mistake all this while; we never knew before, we had a Beauty in our Family.  Catch. 
I know, poor Souls, if you done't, who it is can yet kill with a Frown, and Fetter with a Smile.  Mean. 
I am sorry, Sister, the World is blind.  Catch. 
All the World is not Brother, — Freeman, Belair, Courtall, Valentin, Beaugard, Dorimant, Belamour, stand, I think, in spite of Envy, as so many living Trophies to my conquering Charms.  Sir Maur. 
Ha! ha'! ha'! all these love you, Sister, don't they?  Catch. 
Love me! yes, I think they do;— and besides these, a great many more, tho' I say it. I could once have mustered a whole Regiment of 'em; for besides those, my Scorns have dispatched, the Wars have robbed me of some, and the rest I have discarded.  Mean. 
But pray once in your Life deal Ingeniously with us. Did ever any of these Gentlemen tell you, they were really in Love with you?  Catch. 
None ever durst take so much Freedom with me.  Sir Maur. 
Freeman, I hear, gives the worst Characters of you, and ridicules you in all Companies.  Catch. 
That's only to disguise his Passion, and deceive the World the better.  Mean. 
But what's the Reason we never see Courtall here?  Catch. 
'Tis to show the greatest Respect.  Sir Maur. 
Valentin, of late, makes violent Love to Florimell.  Catch. 
The Gentleman was forward, and that's the Penance I impose on him for a Month.  Mean. 
But what if he should fall to it in earnest, and bid adieu to your conquering Charms?  Catch. 
I don't fear him, Brother; he values Beauty too much, to forsake me.  Sir Maur. 
Belamour, to my knowledge, is Married to Philinda.  Catch. 
'Twas Despair drove him to it.  Mean. 
Beaugard, I hear, keeps a Miss at Greenwich.  Catch. 
I allow him to acquaint himself with Vice, that he may value my Virtue the more.  Sir Maur. 
As for Dorimant, there is but little Hopes of him: He was always a desperate Woman-Hater.  Cath. 
He was so, Brother, before he saw me: He is not the first Convert my Looks have made.  Mean. 
And as for Belair, you know well enough, Sister, that he professes himself an inveterate Enemy to stolen Virginities.  Catch. 
The more Hopes for me then.  Sir Maur. 
O' my Conscience, Sister, these are all Visions.  Mean. 
Nothing but Chimeras of her own.  Catch. 
Ay, Chimeras! Visions! Visions and Chimeras! nothing but Chimeras! Very well; I am glad of the Chimeras; I did not know before, I had Visions and Chimeras.  [Exit Catchat. Sir Maur. 
O' my Conscience, women's Heads, now a-days, are so stuffed up with their Trash of Romances and Poetry, that there is no room left in 'em for Reason, or Common Sense: Our Sister is Mad; stark Mad, Brother.  Mean. 
She has got the Trick of Old Maids, poor Creature; she builds Imaginary Trophies of Love upon the Ruins of her Beauty; and sets as good a Face as she can upon her Sorrows, whilst inwardly she is a continual Prey to uneasy Thoughts, and consuming Desires; to knawing Despair, and tearing Remorse: I pity her with all my heart.— But to return; I have engaged to give Clerimont an Answer: Shall he have Mariana, or shall he not?  Sir Maur. 
Why do you ask again, Brother? I have consented to it already.  Mean. 
Then let's in, and join your Lady's Consent to yours.  Sir Maur. 
What need of that, pray? Have I not passed my Word to you?  Mean. 
That's true, Brother; but still 'twould not be amiss, I think, before I deliver my Message, I were sure of her Approbation too; for you know, she is so—  Sir Maur. 
'Tis needless, I tell you; I'll answer for my Wife, and take the thing upon myself: Go you, and acquaint Clerimont, that he has my free Consent, while I discourse with Mariana, who comes out seasonably for that purpose  [Exit Meanwell. Enter Mariana and Lucy to Sir Maurice. Sir Maur. 
Come hither, Child, I have pretty News to tell you: Do you know one Clerimont?  Mar. 
I have heard of him, Sir.  Sir Maur. 
What Character has he?  Mar. 
The World allows him to be a Man of Wit and Honour.  Sir Maur. 
I am glad your Account agrees with mine; for I have some Thoughts of making him my Son-in-Law.  Mar. 
Oh, ravishing News! Pardon me, dear Sir, if I have done ill, in concealing from you till now, that this same Clerimont you named, has already shown some Inclination for me; the return of which, I am glad to find, is by your Consent approved of.  Sir Maur. 
You mistake me, Child; 'tis for your Sister Lovewit, and not for you, I have given my Word.  Mar. 
Oh, Heavens! what is't I hear?  [She starts. Sir Maur. 
Is there any thing in this, seems so surprising to you, Child?  Mar. 
Is it possible Clerimont should be so Unfaithful?  [Aside. Sir Maur. 
What means this great Concern?  Mar. 
Support me, Lucy; I shall Faint.  Sir Maur. 
Come, Child, be not so concerned; this was only to try you, and see if your Love to Clerimont is as great as the Esteem I have for him: He has my Consent to make his Addresses to you; use him you as a Lover.  Mar. 
I receive the Blessing on my Knees; and thank Heaven, my Duty and Love are reconciled.  [She Knelt. Sir Maur. 
I understand my Wife designs you for young Mr. Witless; but he'll come too late I assure him: however, I must receive him civilly, and amuse him for a while, the better to secure our Project  Mar. 
Her Ladyship, I'm afraid, will make use of all her Power and Rhetoric to oppose my Wishes.  Sir Maur. 
I'd fain see that.  Lucy, 
Ay, well said, Sir: Don't let her great Words frighten you?  Sir Maur. 
A pretty thing, indeed! a Husband should mind what a Wife says.  Enter Lovewit, — [who speaks aside: 
Sir Timothy Witless, and his lubberly Son, are just come in; and I made half before 'em, to observe how my Rival receives the first Compliments of her new Lover.  Enter Sir Timothy Witless, and Witless. Sir Tim. 
Sir Maurice, this is my Son Tim, of whom Fame has told you so much already.  Sir Maur. 
Mr. Witless, your Servant; I can hardly Express how glad I am to see you.  Sir Tim. 
Now Tim. for your Compliments.  Witl. 
Is it not expedient, Sir, I should begin with the Father?  Sir Tim. 
Ay, Ay; by all means.  [Witless speaking like a Schoolboy, and acting with his Hands, addresses himself to Sir Maurice,] 
Sir, I come to salute, acknowledge, cherish and reverence in you a second Father; but a second Father to whom I am more indebted than to my first; the first Begot me, but you Choose me; I was his by Necessity, but you accept me by Favour: what I received from him, was but the mere Operation of the Body; but what I have from you, is the free Emanation of the the Will; and by how much more the noble Faculties of the Mind exceed the common Endowments of the Body, by so much more also do I value that honourable Alliance, for which I am now come to pay you my profound and respectful Homage.  Lucy, 
Nothing like a College, Madam, for Wit.  [To Mariana. Witl. 
Have I performed well, Sir?  [To Sir Timothy. Sir Tim. 
To a Miracle, Tim.— Now for the Ladies.  Witl. 
Must I Kiss?  Sir Tim. 
Ay, Ay, Boy; they expect it:  [Witless goes up to Lovewit, whom he mistakes for the Mother, salutes her, and then speaks to her: 
Madam, your Right of Maternity—  Sir Tim. 
Odds bodikins, Tim. you are out;— that is not the Mother.  Witl. 
Where is she then?— 'Tis none of my fault, sure?  Sir Maur. 
My Wife will be here presently, Mr. Witless.  Witl. 
Shall I stay, Father, till she comes to receive my Speech?  Sir Tim. 
You may in the mean time harangue your Mistress.  Lovew. 
There stands a Lady, Sir, waits impatiently for your Compliment.  [Speaks scornfully. [Witless puts his Speech into his Hat, and sometimes looks on Mariana, sometimes on the Speech; and says, 
Madam, As the Statue of Memnon gave an harmonious Sound, when the Rays of the Sun reflected on it; in a like manner do I find myself animated with a ravishing Transport, at the glorious Appearance of the Sunshine of your Beauty:— Give me leave then, Madam, to lay at the Altar of your Charms, the Offering of that Heart, ambitious only of the Honour of being, Madam, your most loving and devoted Servant and Husband, Timothy Witless, of Clare-Hall.  Lucy, 
Heyday! Who would grudge Studying hard, to say such fine things.  [Aside. Sir Maur. 
Well, Mr. Witless, What do you think of my Daughter? Is she not a pretty Book for you to turn over?  Wittl. 
the Lady is a Beauty in Folio.  Enter Lady Meanwell. Sir Maur. 
Dear, this is Mr. Wittless I present to you.  
Wittless to the Lady M. Madam your Right of Maternity.—  Lady M. Sir, 
I am glad my auspicious Stars, have, by their benign Influence, directed my Steps to this place,— that I might—  Wittl. 
Madam, your Right of Maternity,— your Right of Maternity— because of her Portion,— Pretty Sons, and Daughters, I like her very well.— Humph,— Madam, you have interrupted me in the middle of my Period, and that has confounded my Memory.  Lady M. 
'tis very well, Sir. Daughter, this is the individual Gentlemen, Fate has decreed, and I pronounce, your Husband.  [Presents Witless to Mar. Sir Maur. 
What! dear Duck! before Sir Timothy, and I have examined into Matters?  Lady M. 
Duck! fough! What a rustic and mean Expression is there?  Sir Maur. 
Well, than my walking University, my puzzling Library of Flesh, give me leave to tell you, things of this Nature deserves some consideration.  Lady M. 
That's good indeed with People that need second Thoughts: But where quick Imagination, and profound Judgement meet, the first do as well. I have resolved it shall be so; no more words pray: I expect your compliance.  Sir Maur. 
But, Why must we precipitate things in this manner? Why not give 'em time to know one another? Are you sure their Inclinations will agree?  Lady M. 
Marriage may breed Love; they must try.  Sir Maur. 
On my word, Lady, if Marriage has that Effect with them, they'll have better Luck than I  Wittl. to Mar. 
For my part, Madam, I'm ready.  Sir. Tim. 
Spoke like a Man, Tim.  [Sir Maur. claps him on the Shoulder. Mar. 
And for my part, Sir, I am not: I must freely own to you, that your Merit has not yet made an Impression deep enough in me.  Wittl. 
There is such a Sympathy of Features in our Two Faces, that my Heart tells me, we were made one for another.  Mar. 
Marriage is so lasting a Bondage, that surely it should be beneath the Character of a Man of Honour, to wish under it a Person he Loves.  Wittl. 
Nego Consequentiam, Madam, I may be Man of Honour, and yet consent to receive you of the Hands of your Parents.  Mar. 
A Woman's Heart proves commonly a Rebel, which was taken from her by Violence.  Sir Tim.] 
Tim. Tim. fair Means are best.  Wittl. 
We read in the Ancients, Madam, that there was a laudable Custom amongst 'em, to ravish Daughters out of their Father's Houses, to the end it should not appear, that they had, of their own accord, fled into the Arms of a Man.  Mar. 
The Ancients, Sir, are dead, and we live; we can save our Modesty without their Customs: And when a Match is offered, we know how to express our Liking to it, without offending against the Rules of Decency. Give me, Sir, but a little time: If you love me, as you pretend, you must have no other Will but mine.  Wittl. 
Yes, Madam, to the Interest of my Love Exclusively.  Mar. 
But sure the greatest Instance of Love, in a Complaisant Lover, is to submit, without reserve, to the Pleasure of his Mistress.  Wittl. 
Distinguo, Madam; where the possession of her Person is not concerned, Concedo; but where it is, Nego.—  Mar. 
Well, Sir, since you want Complaisance to allow me time to consider, I'll not want Prudence to take it myself. I am not for Marrying in such haste, nor before my Father has declared his Mind, Sir.  Lovew. to the Lady. 
My Sister you see, Madam, had rather rely upon her Fancy, than trust to better Eyes for a Choice.  Mar. 
Sister, if my Father will not give me the Man I love, I shall beg of him, at least, not to force me to Marry one I hate.  [Exit Mariana. Lady M. to Sir Maur. 
Your Daughter, Sir Maurice, grows every Day so Giddy, and so exorbitantly Rude, that no polite Soul can bear with her Effrontery: but I'll take her to Task, and teach her a Se. connôitre.—  Enter Catchat, followed by Sir Maggot Jingle. Catch. 
Make room, make room for the Virgil of our Age.  Lovew. 
What! my old Lover, Sir Maggot Jingle, I am in an Ecstasy for Joy.  Sir Maur. 
Pox of their Jingle, and his scandalous Title: Must that starving parasitical Knight be always rhyming and bawling at my Table. Curse on him! One may know by his Visits, better than by the Clock, when 'tis Dinnertime at my House.— Sir Timothy, I think you and I have nothing to do here, Had not we best go in, and take a Pipe in my little Room?  Sir Tim. 
With all my Heart, Sir Maurice.  Sir Maur. 
The Ladies will take care of Mr. Witless.  [Exeunt Sir Maur. and Sir Tim: Lady Maur. 
Mr. Witless, let me have the Honour of presenting you to this Darling of the Muses, this younger Brother of Apollo, Sir Maggot Jingle.  Wittl. 
What, Madam, the Famous Sir Maggot Jingle that writ that Incomparable Poem of the Fox?  Lady M. 
The very same, Sir.  Wittless. 
Oh Sir! for the sake of the Fox, let me embrace you, as long as there are Men that love to hunt after Wit and Fancy; your Fox will be sure to be run to Posterity.  [Embraces Sir Maggot Jing. Sir M. Jingle, 
Sir your most Humble: I do not love to commend myself; but I take that Piece to be a Non ultra in the kind.  Witless. 
What pity 'tis, Sir, the Court does not understand your Merit.  Sir M. Jing. 
I am now favouring the ungrateful World, with a rare Collection of my Songs; for without Vanity let it be spoken, I am the best Lyric Poet in England.  Catch. 
How Wittily his Muse expresses herself.  Lady Maur. 
I'm now in my Element — Nimble bring Chairs.— There lies a Booby now, for want of understanding the Aequilibrium of Things.  [Nimble brings a Chair, and falls with it. Nimble. 
And so this, I saw it, as soon as I was down.  Sir M. Jing. 

'Tis well for you, Son of an Ass,  
Nature did not make you of Glass.   Lovew. 
What! an impromptu with so much Wit! Wonderful!  Catch. 
Surely this Man is the Phoenix of Poetry.  [Chairs are brought, all sit. Sir M. Jing. 
Well Ladies, Is the Day fixed for the opening of your Academy of Beaux Esprits.  Lady Maur. 
Tuesday is the Day, Sir Maggot.  Sir M. Jing. 
Woe then to the Royal Society; the Glory of it will suffer a manifest Eclipse.  Catch. 
Nay, Sir Maggot, we will not be so Cruel neither to those Gentlemen as to refuse to join to our Learned Body, the most able Mathematicians amongst 'em; to the end, that by a free Communication of our Discoveries, we may penetrate together into such dark Secrets of Nature, as have hitherto been deemed unfathomable by humane Capacity.  Lady Maur. 
Our Society shall be as the Inquisition, a Tribunal without Appeal, or Mercy; where, with a Sovereign Authority, we shall Judge of all Books that come out: No Authors shall write well, but those we approve of; and no body pretend to Wit, but we, and our Friends.  Lovew. 
But you, Sir Maggot, has your witty Muse conceived of late: What News pray rom Apollo's Leuce?  Sir M. Jing. 
Very little, Madam, that deserves to be named to such Sappho of our Age, as I see here.  Lovew. 
Come Sir Maggot, no Compliments: You know we had rather hear fine things, than ourselves commended.  Sir M. Jing. 
This is another impromptu, Ladies only made at leisure.  [Pulling out a Paper. Catch. 
Oh! I shall fall into a Swoon.—  Sir M. Jingle. 
Hum, Hum, Hum.—  
To the Countess of Squeezingham, upon her AGUE.  

Your Prudence surely, is asleep,  
Whilst you magnificently treat;  
And in your rich Apartment keep  
Your cruel Enemy in state.   Lady M. 
Oh the Jantee Beginning.  Catch. 
What a gallant Turn is there!  Lovew. 
Nothing can be more degage.  Sir M. Jing. 

Ah force it out, say what they will,  
From your Apartment, rich and rare;  
Th' Ungrateful that attempts to kill,  
And rob you of a Life so fair.   Lady M. 
Oh give me leave to breath,  Lovew. 
I am all Rapture, I vow.—  Catch. 
Bless me! what a pretty Metaphor that rich Apartment is.  Lady M. 
The Parenthesis, in my mind, is worth a Million. — Force it out, say what they will, it implies a Challenge, a Defiance to Critics.  Lovew. 
I'd freely give my Portion to be the Author of a Thing, so much out of the common Road.  Sir M. Jing. 
What follows, Ladies, will not disgrace the beginning I'm sure.  

What! thus regardless of your Race,  
In your high Blood itself to place!  
And Night and Day torment you so.   

Though it has all this Favour found,  
Oh, yet at length some Anger show;  
And when next to the Bath you go,  
With your own Hands let it be drowned.   Lady M. 
I can hold no longer.  Catch. 
I die away! Support me! Oh, Support me, some body! Alas! Alas!  Lovew. 
I'm lost in Pleasure!  Lady M. 
Though it has all this Favour found; though you have indulged it, humoured it so long—  Lovew. 
Oh, yet at length some Anger show; some Passion, some Indignation, some Resentment for its Ingratitude.  Catch. 
With your own Hands let it be drowned:— That is, Take hold of it, Madam, and plunge it into the Water— Oh! Oh!—  Lady M. 
Well, Mr. Witless, did you ever hear the like! What do you think now the Author of so excellent a Piece deserves?  Witl. 
What he deserves, Madam?— He deserves to be Hanged.  Sir M. Jing. 
What, Sir, do you know him?  [In a Passion. Witl. 
Not I, Sir, by Jupiter Ammon; but I warrant him, a most illiterate Ais; a mere Rhyming Idiot, without the least Tincture of Philosophy in him.  Lovew. 
You are too severe, Mr. Witless; the Author is a Man noted for Wit among us.  Witl. 
That's all one to me; I maintain him Guilty of High-Treason against Aristotle: Who in the Devil's Name, ever heard of an Ague being a Tangible Body, and subject to Drowning?  Sir M. Jing. 
I am confident, Sir, no Man can write better Verses than these; and my reason for it, is, because I am myself the Author of 'em.  Witl. 
What you, Sir?  Sir M. Jing. 
Yes, Sir; myself in Person.  Witl. 
The more shame for you, Sir.— Look you Ladies, I'll make you a Copy of Verses upon any Subject you'll name, only to let you see the difference between a Poet and a Scholar.  Sir M. Jing. 
Then writ a Madrigal upon a Box o' the Ear.  [Gives him a Box o'th' Ear. Witl. 
Meaning me, Sir?— [after a little musing,]— And so I will—  

Sir Maggotty Jingle  
Did make my Ear tingle;  
Which was to me an Affront:  
But straight for his Box  
I wished him the Pox;  
So had the better on't.   Sir M. Jing. 
Ha! Ha! Ha!  [Laughs. Witl. 
What? do you Laugh? you Chimney-Sweeper of Parnassus!— Tho' I take a Box o'th' Ear; I have too much Honour to put up a Jeer: By the Scull of Chaucer, I'll Rhyme thee Black and Blue.— Come if you dare! you Poet Laureate of Bedlam.  [Witless lays his Sword aside, and offers to Box with Sir M. Jingle. Lady M. 
In the Name of Apollo, I charge you to keep the Peace.  Witl. 
Thank the Lady, Mushroom, that you live.— And now Ladies, to convince you, that a sneaking Rhyming Knight, is but an Owl to a Scholar, Here, Here's a piece of Work, for One that has been at Cambridge but Fours Years and Three-quarters.  [Witless offers a rolled Sheet of large Paper to Lady M. Sir. M. Jing. 
If you please, Madam, I'll save your Ladyship the trouble of Reading. Sir. M. takes the Paper.  [Sir Maggot Jingle reads— 
And Exact and Accurate MAP, containing the most Curious and most Remarkable Signs upon the Road between Cambridge and London, with their several Mottoes, Inscriptions and Devices, as they were faithfully taken and delineated by Timothy Witless, Bachelor of Arts, in his late Travels.  Sir M. Jing. 
By Apollo, the thing is new and singular— Ha! Ha! Ha!  [Ladies look on the Paper. Witl. 
You may look, Ladies', and wonder: I can say, that for myself, there is a thing now, Sir Francis Drake neverthought of in all his Travels at Sea.  Lovew. 
For my part, I am charmed with the curious Drawing.  Witl. 
And well you may, Lady: for to tell you the truth, I have, in all my Fancies, a huge stroke of the Ancients:— Look you; All these fine Prospects you see here, I have copied from a famous Landscape, drawn, to the best of my Memory, five Years before the Flood.  Sir M. Jing. 
Pray, Sir, do you know what Countryman the Painter was.  [In a jeering Tone. Witl. 
A Foreigner, to be sure, by his way of Drawing: I think he was Painter in Ordinary to the King of Venice; his Name gins with an (etc.) but truly, I have forgot it now.  Nimble, 
Madam— Dinner is upon the Table.  Lady M. 
Mr. Witless, you'll do us the favour to go in.  Lovew. 
Sir Maggot, for the sake of the Ague, be you my Guest to day.  Sir M. Jing. 
Agreed:—  
A hearty Meal must make our Works complete;  
A Poet lives to Write, and Writes to Eat.   

ACT III.  
Enter Lucy and Trap. Trap. 
HIS Steward's Place, sayest thou? Faith, no News in the World could have been more welcome; for besides that I have a natural Inclination to Mischief, Sir Timothy was pleased, just now, to give me warning to be gone to morrow, only for being at my arrival a little too familiar with that habitual Sin of his, Mrs Heart-ease, his Housekeeper, and I was almost mad for an opportunity to be revenged of him.  [Enter Clerimont.] Lucy, 
Hold, Jack, Hold; here comes the Gentleman; make your best Honours to your best Master.— [Presents Trap to Cler. This Creature you see here, Sir, is that worthy Brother of mine, whose Skill and Zeal to do you Service, I have already commended to you.  Cler. 
He does not look as if he were a Man of Scruples: I dare answer 〈◊〉 his Physiognomy, That his Conscience can dispense with a little Rogue 〈…〉 do a Man a Kindness: But has he the heart to serve his Master's Rival 〈…〉  Trap, 
For a Master, Sir, give me leave to own none but you: 〈…〉 Conscience, I am as modish as the Vicar of Brey; and seldom listen 〈…〉 there's Preferment in the case.  Cler. 
Then let's to Action immediately: What can you think 〈…〉 to give me a taste of your Wit.  Trap. 
For my Probation Trick, I have a Plot in hand, will strangely confound and perplex the Witlesses: but I must not forestall you with an Account of my Projects; only by way of Prologue to our Comedy, if you have a mind to make yourself Sport, and serve your Love at the same time, I can put you in a way.  Cler. 
With all my heart:— Let's hear what you propose?  Trap, 
Mr. Witless has ordered me to find out a Dancing-Master for him: Let me but introduce you in that Quality, and you'll have a good Opportunity to remove his Affections from your Mistress: the Man is as Easy as you can to wish; put any thing upon him, I'll answer, 'twill take.  Cler. 
I long to be acting of that part; for I was impatient to see the Figure of the Man.  Lucy, 
Then march about instantly; for behold the Enemy appears.  Cler. 
Adieu, pretty Mrs. Lucy: Remember me a thousand times to Charming Mariana,— You Matchiavel, away to Consultation.  [Too Trap. [Exeunt severally. [Enter Catchat and Witless.] Y Catch. 
I say, Mr. Witless, that Milksop Babe, my Niece, shall not have on; upon my Word, she shall not.  Witl. 
She used me scurvily, that's the truth on't.  Cath. 
She does not deserve a Man of Wit..  Witl. 
No more she don't, Faith.  Catch. 
I am really so chagrin, Sir, to see a pretty Gentleman abused in my Brother's House, that to save the Credit of his Family, I am thinking of something to make you amends for his Daughter's Rudeness.  Witl. 
You are exceeding Bounteous, Mrs. Catchat.  Cath. 
Look upon me, Mr. Witless, and tell me freely, Could you love a Woman that has lived just long enough to be Wise, and make a good Choice?  Witl. 
'Tis such a one I long for, I protest.  Catch. 
A Beautiful, Charming Creature.  Witl. 
Faith, you make my Mouth water.  Catch. 
A Wit, a Critic, an Author?  Witl. 
Odd'zookers! But where shall we find such a Treasure?  Catch. 
Such a Treasure is above the Merit and Ambition of Crowned Heads; and yet at your Service, Mr. Witless.  Witl. 
Oh, you ravish me, Madam! I'm transported! Let me see that Angel! that Goddess! I must adore her! Where is she? Where is she, pray?  Catch. 
Not far, Mr. Witless:— Here she stands.  Witl 
Where, Madam? Where?  [Turns round. Catch. 
Turn this way, Mr. Witless, and fix your Eyes upon me;— 'tis myself.  Witl. 
What! You, Mrs. Catchat!— And is that Face you have on now, all the Faces you have in the World, pray?  Catch. 
No doubt on, Sir: And surely, whoever has such a One, need not desire a better.  Witl. 
Faith, Madam, to be plain then, that Face of yours is a very unmannerly Face, to give the Lie to so fair a Description.  Catch. 
I cannot be angry with One I'm sure loves me:— Besides, I must tell you, Mr. Witless, (though indeed there is little need of any other Charm but my Person,) I am a Fortune, Sir;— I have Thousands, Thousands, Sir.  Wittl. 
Oddzniggs Madam, you should have mentioned that first of all.  Carch. 
The Mortal I shall bless with the possession of my Personal Goods, extrinsic, or intrinsic, shall have 4000 l. down, and a 1000 l. when I am first delivered of a Child.  Wittl. 
With Submission, that's ill ordered, Mrs. Catchat, it should be a 1000 l. down, and 4000 l. at the fall of the First-Fruit; because the Temptation of the Money, is all the Provocation a Husband is like to have with you, to strive for an Heir.  Catch. aside. 
Bless me! the Fellow is a Fool, a perfect Stranger to Wit, and Beauty: I must stick to my Clerimont; he is a Man of Judgement.  Enter Sir Maggot Jingle, Lady Meanwell, and Mrs. Lovewitt. Lovew. 
Come, Sir Maggot, we will not be put off with a Compliment; we'll have the Song.  Sir M. Jing. 
To tell you the Truth, I am a little proud of this Piece; look upon it as a very lucky Hitt of my Muse towards Preferment.— Here it is.—  
SONG.  
SHould King Lewis, with all his might,  
Thus say to me, by chance,  
Resign thy Peggy for one Night,  
And I'll make thee a Peer of France.  
To the Monsieur, I'd reply,  
As I love a Christmas-Pye,  
Her Flesh thy Royal Paw shan't handle.  
Keep thy Honour and thy Pelf,  
And I'll keep Peggy to myself,  
Who shines as bright as any Candle.  Lovew. 
Next time Sir Maggot favours us with a Visit, I hope our Meetings will be regularly fixed.  Catch. 
Do you know, Sir Maggot, that I discovered last Week, Three Men in the Moon, fight a Duel in a Churchyard?  Sir M. Jing. 
Ay, that I know; and I hear since, that he in the Blue Coat was wounded, and dropped down into a Tub of Yeast, at a Brewer's in Bury.  Catch. 
I saw the poor Creature fall; and I could not but admire at the other Two, who, instead of running away, and making their Escape, fell a gazing on me for an Hour together. The Sparks of that shining World, are of a loving Constitution, I promise you; a few Looks of mine would soon consume 'em all; and then my Charms, like Alexander, must weep for want of Worlds to Conquer.  Sir M. Jing. 
I cannot boast of prodigious things, Madam: However, I have now a small piece in the Press, will, I hope, appear new to the World; and that's Cook upon Littleton turned into Heroic Verse.  Wittl. 
Now you talk of Projects, Do you know, Ladies, that my Tutor and I, are setting up a Penny-Post to the West-Indies.  Sir M. Jing. 
But you, Mrs. Catchat, what's become pray of your dainty Piece of Work as you call it.?  Catch. 
What! my satire against Eunuches? Fough! I left it unfinished; the filthy Subject provoked my Spleen, but could not raise my Fancy.  Lady M. 
For my part, I love any thing that has a relish of the public Spirit in it: I was yesterday with my Lord Mayor, to communicate to him a Mathematical Engine of my own, to keep the Streets as clean, and as dry as a drawing Room all the Year round.  Wittl. 
How's this, Madam, pray?  Lady M. 
'Tis only by securing the City from Rain.  Wittl. 
From Rain, Madam! that's impossible. How can you compass it?  Lady M. 
Oh easily enough, Mr. Wittless: Tell me, Have you seen the glaring Lamps upon the Road to Kensington?  Wittl. 
Yes, Madam, that I have, What then?  Lady M. 
Well, just so, 'tis only setting up Timber Posts round about the City, and then fixing a pair of Bellows upon every one of 'em, to blow the Clouds away.  Lovew. 
Sir Maggot, I have now a huge Limbeck making; guess for what.  Sir M. Jing. 
Guess say you?— Faith I can't, unless it be to dissolve the Philosopher's Stone.  Lovew. 
No, no, Sir Maggot; 'tis for a more noble Design, I assure you: You must understand, that I have made an exact Collection of all the Plays that ever came out, which I design to put into my Limbeck; and then extract all the Quintessence of. Wit that is in them, to sell it by drops to the Poets of this Age.  Sir M. Jing. 
Oh Madam, Let me bespeak a few of your witty Drops for the Poor Gentlemen of the Athenian Mercury.  Lovew. 
Surely those Oracles of Learning do not want 'em.  Wittl. 
Faith but they do: Look you, I proposed but this to them t'other Day: Suppose we should put the Brains of a Scholar into the Head of a Bull, whether or no that Bull would speak Latin as I do? and never trust me if they knew what to say to it.  Catch. 
But why should you think that so mighty a Miracle. I myself who seldom boast of any thing, am now teaching a Flea to sing: The little Creature understands the Notes already; and if I live, she shall sing a Song in the next Opera thats acted.—  Enter Sir Timothy Wittless, reeling; and Sir Maurice Meanwell, a little elevated. Sir Maur. 
You might have taken t'other Bottle sure; Why in such hast Sir Timothy?  Sir Tem. 
Look you, Neighbour, when I have Business of Importance in my Noddle, I love to be Sober: Where is honest Tim? Come my Boy, you must be married to morrow, along along to my Tailor; by the Beard of King Dick, I'll make thee as gay as a Pageant at my Lord Mayor's Show. Ladies your Servant; Sir Maurice your most Humble. On, on Boy.  [Exit Sir Timothy. Wittl. 
I go, Ladies', and remain your most obsequious Slave. My future Progenitor in Law, I rest for ever your dutiful Son, that is to be.  [taking his leave. [Exit Wittless. Sir M. Jing. 
I must take my leave too, Ladies; for some Vertuosis are to wait on me this Afternoon, about a Scheme I am preparing for the House, to have all the Cities, Towns, and Villages of England, turned into Seaports.  Lady M. 
Then Sir Maggot your Servant; but pray remember your Promise, and fail not at the New Play to morrow; for the Author came Yesterday to pay his devoirs to us, and we have engaged for ourselves, and our Friends, to find it a good one, in spite of Rules, and Critics.  Sir M. Jing. 
But tell me first, Madam, is the Poet a modest, civil Poet; or is he like one of those, that cannot be Witty without being Obscene.  Lady M. 
What makes you ask Sir Maggot?  Sir M. Jing. 
'Tis only for the pleasure of observing some nice Ladies of my Acquaintance, who will be sure never to miss the first Acting of a Play, that if there be any thing high seasoned in it, they may please their Palates, and tickle their Fancies with it; and then with a turning up of the Nose, and a Jesus had I known the Play was so filthy, I would not have seen it for a Million: They'll be sure, for their own Reputation, to cry, the Poet's down; and declaim high against those who show so little Modesty, as to see it the second Day.  Lady M. 
I know the Author, Sir Maggot, and dare engage for the Chastity of his Muse.  Sir M. Jing. 
'Tis enough, Ladies, that the Poet is under your Protection; I'll be at his Play I warrant you, and clap stoutly as soon as the Candles begin to light.  [Exit Sir Maur. 
I thought, Wit Paramount, I must have been forced to dismiss myself without Audience.  Lady M. 
What! Angry? Sir Maurice; I thought you stood all the while admiring the Famous Sir Maggot Jingle.  Sir Maur. 
Hang him for a scurvy Pimp of Wit, that could never Match Rhyme, and Sense together, a Scoundrel of Parnassus, and the very scandal of his Trade.  Lovew. 
His Trade! Fough, how Citizen-like is that Expression!  Sir Maur. 
A dull Gossipping, Rhyming Parasite, who Robs the Piazzas of Paper to Write his Madrigals upon, and stands Recorded in Alehouses, for the inspiring Liquor that makes him a Wit.  Catch. 
Brother, Brother talk with more Reverence of Sir Maggot Jingle, pray, what if his Loyalty to Oliver has made him Poor, he is still a Knight, and a Poet, and such as he, you know, can Fight, and Lampoon.  Sir Maur. 
Faith, Sister, I fear neither his Sword nor his satire, as long as I keep a good Table; for such as he I know, had rather put up an Affront than lose a Meal.  Lady M. 
How now, Sir Maurice, is the merry God Dancing a Jig within the enclosure of your Brains? you forget yourself strangely methinks.  Sir Maur. 
'Tis to you, Sister, I speak, what a Devil have you to do with Jingling and Poetry.  [To Catchat. Catch. 
Lord, Sister, what a strange compound your Husband is of Vulgar and Clownish Atoms?  Sir Maur. 
A pretty thing indeed, to see those long Spectacles of yours, set on the Top of my House, for you to peep, and tell how many Hackney Coaches are going in the Moon.  Lovew. 
Oh the Illiterate Brute! thus to affront a Telescope.  [aside Sir Maur. 
I am no Scholar, not I, and I thank my Stars for it, but with your leave, so much common Sense has taught me, that all the Study and Philosophy of a Wife, should be to please her Husband, instruct her Children, have a Vigilant Eye over Domestic Affairs, keep a good Order in her Family, and stand as a Living Pattern of Virtue, and Discretion to all about her.  Lady M. 
Sir Maurice like another Solon, is now setting up for a Lawgiver, Poor Soul!  Sir Maur. 
The Women of Old did not read so much, but lived better, Housewifry was all the Knowledge they aspired to; now adays Wives must Write forsooth, and pretend to Wit with a Pox.  Catch. 
'Tis the partial, and foolish Opinion of Men Brother, and not our Fault has made it ridiculous now adays; for a Woman to pretend to Wit, she was born to it, and can show it well enough, when occasion serves.  Sir Maur. 
Ay, to our Cost sometimes, Female Wit Triumphs, and Excels in three things, Revenge, Dissembling and Cuckoldom; there I grant we must yield to you for quickness and dexterity.  Catch. 
But for all your Jesting Brother, a Man's Wit is as dull as his Appetite, if not set an Edge by ours.  Sir Maur. 
Hang your Edging, a Woman's Wit was always a Pimp to her Pleasures.  Lady M. 
I'm tired Sir Maurice with your Nonsense: satire does not become a Citizen.  Sir Maur. 
But I tell you Lady, that I will have a Reformation in my House, that this Plague of Wit has infected all my Servants, even my little Boy, forsooth, cannot turn the Spit now without a Pharamont, or a Cassandra in his hand; if I call for Drink, the Butler brings me a Spencer, or a Ben Johnson.  Lady M. 
If this be all you have to say Sir Maurice; Farewell.  Sir Maur. 
No, Angry Mother of the Muses, give me but Attention, and you shall hear; your Daughter's Wit it seems is like to starve her Love: I'm told she designs to keep Hospitality in another World, and Feast the worms with her Maidenhead.  Lady M. 
What strange Jargon's this?  Sir Maur. 
But Mariana being not altogether so Witty, but like a simple Creature, desirous to keep House in this World; 'tis time to think of a Husband for her.  Lady M. 
'Tis what my preventing Wisdom has already determined; I have engaged to Sir Timoth, that his Son shall be the Man; he is a Person of deep parts, and that's in my Opinion the only way to infuse the Spirit of Improvement into your Daughter?  Sir Maur. 
Did you not perceive by my Daughter's Discourse with Mr. Witless, that she has no great liking to him; why should we force her Inclination my Dear.  Lady M. 
What now? will you offer to Contradict me; I have past my word, and it must be so.  Sir Maur. 
I am not so much against it my dearest Dear, but only let's do things as they should be done; let's give her a little time at least, to Conquer her Aversion.  Lady M. 
'Tis pity indeed, but my Determinations should wait for the settling of the giddy Thoughts of such an illiterate Creature as your Daughter; I am resolved it shall be as I please, bid her be ready, for to morrow I'll send to Mr. Engross to bring the Writings this Evening to Seal.  Sir Maur. 
But my Dear in a Case of this importance.  Lady Maur. 
What, again? Hold your Tongue Sir Maurcie, I don't love people should reply.  [Exeunt all but Sir Maurice. Enter Meanwell to Sir Maurice, who stands hanging his Head in a Melancholy Posture. Mean. 
I see your Lady going Brother, I suppose you have had some Discourse about the business.  Sir Maur. 
Yes, Brother.  Mean. 
Well, and what's the Result of it pray, shall we have Mariana? Has she given her consent, is the thing agreed on?  Sir Maur. 
Not altogether.  Mean. 
Does she deny?  Sir Maur. 
No.  Mean. 
Is the matter left in suspense?  Sir Maur. 
Not at all.  Mean. 
What then Brother, is it a Mystery never to be Revealed?  Sir Maur. 
I'll tell you Brother, she says that she has engaged her word for Mr. Witless, and cannot recall it.  Mean. 
And what did you say to it pray, did you accept of him?  Sir Maur. 
I! No; God forbidden.  Mean. 
What Answer then did you make?  Sir Maur. 
None at all, and I am glad I did not, for fear she should have disputed me into a consent.  Mean. 
The Reason is admirable Brother; but did you at least propose Clerimont to her?  Sir Maur. 
No Brother, I had more Wit I assure you; look you, when I heard her Name Mr. Witless, I thought my mentioning Clerimont would but Exasperate her the more.  Mean. 
Your Prudence Brother amazes me, an't you ashamed of your soft, and easy temper?  Sir Maur. 
Brother I love Peace, and my Wife is a terrible Dragon when once out of Humout; she makes indeed a High Boast of her Philosophy, but she is not a bit the less Choleric for it, and her Morals that teach her to look upon all things with an indifferent Eye, have not the least Influence upon her Passions; she is still Woman all over Brother.  Mean. 
This is Mockery, perfect Mockery Brother, your Wife Rules because you are faint hearted; take my word 'tis the way of Cunning, and designing Wives as soon as they are Married, Nicely to study the Temper of their Husbands, and thence Usurp Power in proportion to their weakness.  Sir Maur. 
In sober sadness I'm to blame, my Neighbours take Notice of it I hear, and I begin to be weary on't. Faith I do Brother.  Mean. 
For shame, good Brother do not make yourself such a Ninny, as to suffer that puny thing woman to lead you by the Nose; pluck up a Spirit, show yourself a Man; and when your wife has the ill manners to Argue with you, tell her in a Tone of Authority such is my Will and Pleasure.  Sir Maur. 
You are in the right Brother, [Cocking his Hat] come I'm resolved I'll show more Courage for the future.  Mean. 
Well said.  Sir Maur. 
'Tis a disgrace for a Man to submit to the Capricious Humour of a wife.  Mean. 
Very well.  Sir Maur. 
She has abused my Patience too long.  Mean. 
Very true.  Sir Maur. 
Too much imposed upon me.  Mean. 
That's certain.  Sir Maur. 
And she shall know to day, that my Daughter is my Daughter, and that it belongs to me, and to no body else, to dispose of her as I please.  Mean. 
Now 'tis as it should be, I am overjoyed at the change.  Sir Maur. 
You Know Clerimont's Lodgings, pray call upon him, and tell him, I must speak with him instantly.  Mean. 
I am going to the Exchange, to hear what News from Hamburgh, for I had notice this morning that our Ship is safely arrived, and I'll see him as I go.  [Exeunt severally.  

SCENE Changes. Sir Timothy 's Lodgings.  Enter Clerimont, Trap. Trap. 
HEre he comes, compose yourself a little, and forbear Laughing if you can— Sir, here's Mr. Le Brall, [Enter Witless.] the best Dancing-master in Town, is come to wait on you.  Witl. 
Sir, your very profound, humble Servant.  Cler. 
Your man informs me, Sir, that you have a desire to learn the graceful motions of our Art, I shall be proud of—  Witl. 
But first tell me, Sir, could I learn to Dance by Grammar? I love to do things methodically.  Cler. 
That can't be, Sir; for the Perfection, or End of our Art is chief to reform the rude, and clownish Gestures of the Body, which is a thing merely practical.  Witl. 
Whether you know it or no, I can tell you, Sir, your Art is very ancient, I have read somewhere in Juvenal, that there was a Ball in Noah's Ark.  Cler. 
Oh, Sir, that's but a Trifle, we derive the Pedigree of Dancing much higher.  Witl. 
But now let's see what we have to do, I am soon to marry, and I have sent for you, Mr. Le Brall, to teach me to Dance as curiously as you can, for 'twould be a shame for a Gentleman, and a Scholar as I am, that any body should outdo me at my own Wedding.  Cler. 
Don't you question, Sir, but I shall come off with credit; but pray when is the day?  Witl. 
To night, I hope.  Cler. 
What! so soon, Sir! you confound me.  Trap. 
Don't let that fright you, Mr. Le Brall, my Master is not like other People, his Brains circulate to his very Heels; I'll engage for him, that he'll learn as much in two hours, as he would do in a quarter of a year!  Cler. 
Oh, if so, we are well enough— Come, Sir, your Hat— So:— Your Shoulders— Very well:— Your Arms— To a marvel:— Hold up your Head— So:— Your right Foot forward— So:— Turn out your Toes— So:— Keep your Body straight— Admirable:— Make your Honours— Nothing can be more exact.  [Teaching Witless, who performs awkardly. Witl. 
Well, what do you think on't, Master? I fancy I do pretty well.  Cler. 
You amaze me, Sir, with your Dexterity.  Witl. 
Don't you think my Mistress will be transported to see me dance so well? You must be at the Wedding, Master, remember I invite you.  Trap. 
He'll be there I don't question, and one of the chief Actors, I hope.  [Aside. Cler. 
You honour me, Sir; but will you pardon my Curiosity, if I presume to ask the Lady's Name who is to be so happy?  Witl. 
My Mistress, and future Spouse, Sir, is one Mrs. Meanwell.  Cler. 
Which of 'em — Mariana?  Witl. 
The very same.  Cler. 
If so, than I must needs say, some People have better Luck than they deserve.  Witl. 
What can be the meaning of this?  Cler. 
Nothing, nothing, Sir, I have been too rash I see.  Witl. 
Surely there is something of mystery in this; pray, good Mr. Le Brall, inform me.  Cler. 
No, Sir, men of my Profession ought to be secret.  Witl. 
'Dzlife, I can bear no longer! pray, good Master, do not keep me thus in suspense; I swear by the University, your Kindness to me shall do you no disservice.  Cler. 
Upon your word, Sir?  Witl. 
Upon my Word and Honour.  Cler. 
Look you, Sir, Sir Maurice is my Friend, Mrs. Meanwell too is one I value; but surely when a Person of your Character is going to be grossly cheated even by those he lest suspects, I cannot, I must not be silent, I'll deal frankly with you, Sir, Do you in the business as you think fit.  Witl. 
Oh sweet Mr. Le Brall, how good you are!  Cler. 
The young Lady, Sir, to my knowledge has an intimate Engagement with a certain Spark, that would make nothing of cutting your Throat, should he by chance discover, that you are resolved to go on in your Amour; she loves him so passionately too, that I heard her once vow to him, she'll have none but him for a Husband.  Witl. 
Say you so? The poor Fool! how I pity her! I have done with her, I warrant her: What, did the silly Creature fancy a Man of my Exploits and Fame can want Women? Bless me! the World to me is like the Seraglio to the Grand Signior.  Cler. 
Besides, I must tell you by the by, that her Humour is too French, and Airy, for a man of your solid Parts; who knows, but that it may in time degenerate into Coqueterie.  Witl. 
A word to the Wise, I understand you, Master; the Spark shan't out my Throat I warrant him, nor the Jipsey make a Cuckold of me I promise her; a Coquet, 'Dzniggers! Let who will take her, the cheating Devil made this morning as if she had been a very reserved Saint.  Cler. 
Woman, Sir, is a Riddle, a mere Compound of Contradictions, whose meaning you'll never find out, but by mistaking her words.  Trap. 
Bless me, Sir, there was a narrow Escape for us now, thank your Stars and M. Le Brall for it.  Witl. 
Oh the subtle Crocodile! how I hate her! Nay, she is Illiterate too, and understands neither Greek nor Latin.  Cler. 
Nay, I fancy she despises Dancing too, for I have often observed her making Faces at her Sister when I was teaching her.  Witl. 
Then you go to Sir Maurice's sometimes, Master?  Cler. 
Ay, that I do three times a week.  Witl. 
Oh! what would I give you were there within this hour! for I'm resolved to go, and give a parting Lecture to that false, cunning, jilting, profligate Minx.  Cler. 
I'll endeavour to be there; but pray not a word from whence you had it, you'd ruin me.  Witl. 
Upon the word of a Bachelor of Arts, not a tittle; be there only, and I'll make you Sport I warrant you for this Kindness, I'll so rattle the little Jade before you—  Trap. 
On my Conscience this is a wicked World; there is no Faith in a Woman, who cheats even with her modesty.  Witl. [Going.] 
Mr. Le Brall, remember within an hour— Oh the Devil!  Trap. [Following.] 
Oh the Woman!  [Exeunt Witless and Trap. Cler. [Solus.] 

Fortune, her Blindness, does too plainly show,  
When on an Ass she would her Gifts bestow;  
For though she still desires, not to forsake him,  
A Fool's but what a Man of sense will make him: etc.     

ACT IU.  

SCENE Sir Maurice 's House.  Enter Lovewit and Catchat. Lovew. 
PRay, good Aunt, what makes you so very earnest to know, if that Clerimont be quite out of my mind?  Catch. 
Kindness to you, Child, nothing else; I know he is Engaged somewhere else, and I would not have you love in vain.  Lovew. 
But still what makes you fancy it so very difficult a thing for me to hate that man? Have my Words or Looks at any time betrayed such a mighty Passion for him?  Catch. 
He boasted of it once; how far he had reason to do it, you know best.  Lovew. 
Presumptuous! And could you that know me, Aunt, believe I should make choice of one, who counts it a scandal in our Sex to pretend to Wit?  Catch. 
No, dear Niece, I could hardly imagine you'd think that man worthy of your Esteem, who takes all occasions to Ridicule the excellent Talents the World admires in you.  Lovew. 
Unmannerly! he spares no body; I hear even yourself, Aunt, don't escape his satire.  Catch. 
Stupid! Whatever Approbation your Poetry meets with among the Wits, he is always the last to commend it.  Lovew. 
Ignorant! I have twenty times read things of your Composing to him, which he could not forbear calling Stuff and Nonsense to my Face:  Catch. 
Impertinent! I have had a thousand Quarrels with him upon your account.  Lovew. 
All this, and more perhaps, I could have dispensed with, but one thing my Philosophy could not forgive him, that he had hardly loved me two Years before he began to talk of Marriage— Fough!  Catch. 
Oh the filthy Beast! Fough! it turns my Stomach I protest.  Lovew. 
Lord! what a bold and impudent Creature is man, to dare mention the word Marriage to a Woman of Wit and Fortune? For 'tis no more than with fawning Words, and passionate Speeches, to desire her very civilly to mend his condition, and make herself his Slave.  Catch. 
Faith, Niece, 'tis even so.  

For the soft Joys of Love no longer last,  
When once the fatal Yea our Lips has past;  
Then we begin to court, and to comply,  
And find we only Rule, while we Deny.   Lovew. 
Out upon those Treacherous Sirens, cruel and bewitching Monsters, who charm us into Ruin, and greedily devour our Substance.  Catch. 
But what say you to this, Niece? I know men in Town, who were born with the best Dispositions in the World to make good Husbands, who yet as soon as they came to be married, lest they should be laughed at for their Singularity, affected a Peevishness, which was not natural to them; and rather than their Wives should have the Pleasure or Benefit of their good Humour, force themselves into a sullen Temper; they are true Friends, and merry Companions abroad, but very ill Husbands at home, and make it their business to appear Good to every body, but their own Wives.  Lovew. 
And must I Caress such an Owl? Must I humour such a Fop in every thing? Must I obey a Fool, who cannot command his Passions, and thinks a Wife was given him as the Brutes of the Creation, only to serve him? No, help me Reason, and neither Clerimont, nor any man living, shall ever boast of my Ruin.  Enter Clerimont, who stands behind Lovewit unseen. Cler. 
Why so angry, Madam? What! a Philosopher, and passionate?  Lovew. 
Were I as angry as you pretend, Sir I could perhaps find Reasons to justify my Resentment; a Heart unfaithful and inconstant, is a Monster in Love, as well as Morality.  Cler. 
Can you call that Infidelity, Madam, which was occasioned by your Slights? 'Tis true, the Sacrifice you disdained, I have since offered to another, but still 'tis not I forsook you, 'tis you dismissed me.  Lovew. 
If I deferred to Crown your Wishes, 'twas only because you were not indifferent to me; I hoped Time would have improved your Love to the Purity and Perfection of mine, but your Thoughts, I find, cannot keep themselves free from the filthy Commerce of the Flesh, nor your Soul relish the ravishing Pleasure of the Union of two Hearts, when the Body, that nauseous, nasty Thing, does not come in for a Share.  Cler. 
It is my misfortune, Madam, to be sensible that I have a Body as well as a Soul; your refined Love is a piece of Philosophy too high for me to comprehend, and my Senses stick a little too close to me, to leave it in my power to shake 'em off.  Lovew. 
Oh! what a strange sort of Love you men are for! Surely 'twas designed for Brutus' only, Creatures inspired by a Soul Divine should, methinks, raise themselves higher, and not suffer the sweet and fruitful Imagination of Pleasure to be filthily drowned in an impure and beastly Enjoyment.  Cler. 
Platonic Love, Madam, does not agree with my Constitution; my Body is a Rebel, and will not always keep subject under the Empire of the Mind, I cannot help it.  Lovew. 
Well then, since there is no other way, since your brutish Sentiments must carry it against the Purity of my Reasons, since none but Carnal Fetters will bind you, endeavour to get my Mother's Consent, I'll try if I can prevail with my Philosophy.  Cler. 
No, Madam, it is now too late had this kind Intention of yours—  Catch. 
I told you as much, dear Niece, but you would not believe me.  Cler. 
My Heart, Madam, is no more in my power.  Catch. 
I know that well enough.  Lovew. 
If your Heart, Sir, is not in your power, mine is, and I had rather pierce it, than throw it away on one, who does not understand the value of it.  [Exit. Catch. 
Poor Niece! she might have saved herself all this fretting— I pity the Child with all my Heart—— Come, Clerimont, the time of Ceremony is now over, you may speak more freely, I give you leave.  Cler. 
Speak, Madam! I have nothing to say, but only, that I must take my leave of you, I have a little business with Sir Maurice within.  Catch. 
I see you are an exact Lover, afraid of breaking any of your Mistress' Commands: 'Tis true, I forbidden you this Morning to Express yourself too passionately, but your Modesty Conquers me: Speak your Heart; do, I will not be Angry.  Cler. 
I vow, Madam, all your words are riddles to me.  Catch. 
Nay Clerimont, can you think me stupid to that degree, as not to discern your Passion for me; believe me, there can be no shame in Adoring such Beauty as mine: you are not the first by a thousand has counted it an Honour to die for this Face.  Cler. 
Why all this Fustian to me, Madam? I am neither blind, nor ready to be begged for a Fool.  Catch. 
I see you are a bashful Lover; and to give you the greatest Instance of my Condescension that ever Mortal boasted of, I will save you the Ceremony of a Declaration, and take it for granted, that you die for me; is it not so, Clerimont?  Cler. 
I protest, Madam, I know nothing of it— How shall I get rid of this Devil?  [Aside. 
Well, Madam, since nothing else will satisfy you, and a Declaration you must have, give me but time till to morrow, and I'll desire no more.  Catch. [Aside.] 
This is Formality, I'm sure, mere Formality, nothing else. I know he must come to it at last, whether he will or no— But come, so far I must gratify a Lover.  
Adieu, Clerimont; dear Clerimont, adieu till to morrow; I mean, if you can live till then.  [Exit. Clerimont. [Solus.] 
Surely angry Heaven could not have plagued Mankind with a greater Curse, than these fawning, greedy, preying Catchats of our Age, fond, and Libidinous Monsters, who, Proud when young, turn Wanton in their declining; and Nature now revenging herself upon 'em, they are at last devoured by that Fire they refused to quench before. But I must in, lest the Fool comes, and surprises me before I have seen my Angel.  Enter Mariana to Clerimont as he is going in. Cler. 
O charming Mariana! you are as welcome to me, as the Sun to a Traveller after a Storm; I have been set upon by two loving, persecuting Devils, who, without any mercy, would have rob you of my Heart, but I'll defend it for you, as long as it affords me Life to do it.  Mar. 
I trust too much to your Honour and Constancy to fear any Rival; but there is a more dangerous Enemy alarms my Love, my Mother-in-Law, who, like a Fury, was just now haunting Sir Maurice, to fret and torment him into Compliance.  Cler. 
As you trust to my Constancy, fair Mariana, trust also to my Care and Diligence, the witty Wife shall not hector long, the Plot is ripe; and the faithful couple, Trap and Lucy, bid me not doubt of success.  Mar. 
But as to the Directions you sent me in your Note.  Cler. 
You know 'tis both to make ourselves sport with the Cambridge Ninnie, and to remove the Brute; put on for once the Vizard of a Coquet, and you shall see rare play.  Mar. 
Were it not to secure Clerimont to my Wishes, I could never have prevailed with myself to bestow one kind Word, or smiling Look on his Rival.  Cler. 
This is the only time, Madam, I shall ever ask you to dissemble.  Mar. 
Then let him come when he will, I'll play the Jesuit for once; and while I throw away fond Speeches upon him, direct my Intention to you.  Cler. 
But here comes the Booby—  Enter Witless, who affects to look sullen, and places himself between Clerimont and Mariana. Cler. 
You see, Sir, I am here beforehand with you; but, I vow, my waiting for you did not at all seem tedious to me: Mrs. Meanwell is so transported at the thoughts of her approaching Happiness, that she could not forbear telling me a thousand pretty things of her Love, or boasting pleasantly, how blessed she'd soon be in a Husband.  Witl. 
Perhaps so.  [Looking grum upon her. Mar. 
What, you a Lover, Sir! and so long from your Mistress?  Witl. 
Softly, softly, Madam! [To Cler.] She comes on rarely.  Cler. 
Did not I tell you, Sir?  Mar. 
[Looking on Cler.] Oh! how ravished, how transported am I! to see the man my Heart adores; I would not change for an Empire the Blessing of so charming a sight.  Witl. to Cler. 
Oddzookers! how brisk she is, she takes fire in a moment.  Cler. 
Stand upon your Guard, Sir; stand upon your Guard, I say.  Mar. 
Oh! I see Love playing in his Eyes, and little Cupid's hid in every Smile.  Witl. 
By the University, she is Romantic!  Mar. [Looking on Cler.] 
Oh! how impatiently do I live, till I am yours.  Witl. 
'Dslife, she gins to grow uneasy!  Cler. 
No doubt of it, Sir.  Mar. 
to Cler. Defer my Happiness no longer if you love me, you are sure of my Heart; why should you desire any further Trial of my Constancy?  Witl. 
Hold, Lady Pert, hold, not so quick, I pray, I am not the Fool you imagine; thank our Stars, the Witlesses are noted in the World for Brains; I won't be caught, not I  Mar. 
What means my dear Heart, why so alarmed?  Witl. 
What do I mean, say you? I mean, that you shan't make a Cuckold of me, by the University you shan't.  Mar. 
Bless me! why such Discourse, my pretty Fool?  Witl. 
Fool yourself— That's all, forsooth; I did not know you before; but I am pretty well informed now what you are, I'll not marry a Coquet, not I— [To Cler.] There I touched her Master.  Mar. 
to Cler. Oh! 'tis all in vain, I love none but you, and none but you will I ever have.  Witl. 
Stop there, says Tim, I'll take care of that Miss, the Witlesses shall never Reproach me for bringing Infamy into their Honourable Family.  Mar. 
[Making as if she were crying.] Oh! I can hold no longer, you are too barbarous, Tigers are not more Unnatural than you are.  Cler. to Witl. 
Why so severe upon the Lady, Sir?— I am sorry now I was the occasion of this, I protest I am.  Witl. 
Let her cry, what's that to me? Look you, Master, Marcus Tullius Hudibras says, That Woman's Tears are like the Crocodiles, shed only to pity Fools into Ruin.  Cler. 
But, Sir, Methinks the tenderness of the Sex—  Witl. 
Sweet Mr. Le Brall, let her blubber out her Venom. Did you never hear the saying of the wise man in Plutarch; When Dogs fall a snarling, Serpents a hissing, and Women a crying; the first means to by't, the second to sting, and the third to deceive?  Mar. 
Sir, your Suspicions do me an injury.  Witl. 
I'll take care, Mrs. Liquorish, your Frolicks shall do me none.  Mar. 
But won't you hear me, Mr. Witless?  Witl. 
Hear you! no— I'll have nothing to do with you, my Soul abhors you. Farewell coqueting, cheating, canting, cozening Flirt, farewell to you for ever.  [Exit. Mar. 
And farewel to you, my dear Fool.  Cler. 
You have acted your part to a miracle, the Coxcomb seems to be pretty well cured of his Love; however, for fear of a Relapse, I'll Encourage honest Trap to go on in his Projects.  Enter Sir Maurice disturbed, and in a fright. Sir Maur. 
Oh! are you there?  Cler. 
Well, Sir, have your Arguments prevailed? May I flatter myself with the hopes that your Lady—  Sir Maur. 
Oh! my Wife is a Devil, a very Devil, Sir; she uses Magic on my Conscience, it cannot be otherwise when I am from her, no man has more Courage than I, I fell myself full of Spirit and Resolution, but I am no sooner got to her again, but three of her words, like a Spell, turn me into a Coward; I tried but just now, and as she spoke, I protest, methought I heard Hell roaring, I ran away for fear.  Cler. 
This Devil might be resisted, Sir, if you would.  Mar. 
O dear, Sir! will you then give over? Will you leave your helpless Daughter exposed thus to—  Sir Maur. 
What would you have me do? You would not have me encounter Hell surely, would you? O Citizens, Citizens! how much better for a Wife is a quiet Fool, than a witty Scold! [Perceiving Lady M. coming out, starts on a sudden.] Alack, alack, the Storm is a coming— Do you but stand in that corner, and you'll see how she plays the Devil.  Enter Lady Meanwell, thrusting out Lucy. Lady M. 
Be gone, Trapes, be gone, and be never so daring, as to show your Face in my House again.  Sir Maur. 
Alack, alack! she is come to conjure, I see a Devil before me already.  Mar. 
What's the matter now, Lucy?  Lucy. 
You may ask my Lady, for she turns me away, and will not tell me why.  Sir Maur. 
Come, my dear Angel, my Paradise, don't be so severe to Maiana's maid, she is a good Servant, you know.  Lady M. 
How now, Solomon of the City, will you offer to take her part?  Sir Maur. 
Oh Lord! not at all, my Dear, I only ask what it is she has done.  Lady M. 
What? Am I then to give Reasons for what I do?  Sir Maur. 
I do not say you are, my Jewel.  Lady M. 
I will not be contradicted, Sir Maurice, you know it well enough.  Sir Maur. 
I find it so, my Honey-suckle, but if you love me, let me hear what's her Fault; has she by chance broken some of your fine China, I can buy more for you.  Lady M. 
What a pitiful fancy is there, as if so trivial a thing could discompose my morals.  Sir Maur. 
Then 'tis something of great moment I see, has she stolen some of your Plate?  Lady M. 
That were but a Trifle.  Sir Maur. 
Oh! Oh! Mrs. Lucy, have you played the Thief, and pawned her Jewels?  Lady M. 
A great deal worse still.  Sir Maur. 
Worse still, say you? Then she has desiled my House, it must be so; Oh the Baggage!  Lady M. 
All this were nothing in comparison of that horrid, scandalous, and exorbitant Offence she is guilty of; hear it, Sir Maurice, since you have such a mind to it, and excuse her if you can with an Impudence beyond Example, and a show of Ignorance that cannot be paralleled in History; she had just now the ill manners to say in my hearing, That Cowley, the wretched Cowley, was as good a Poet, as the incomparable Sir Maggott Jingle.  Sir Maur. 
And is this all? Heaven be thanked; I thought she had at least set my House on fire, or ravished my Butler.  Lady M. 
What's this mighty Wonder now? Is a Crime of this Nature a slight matter think you?  Mar. 
With submission to the Wits, Madam, I do not conceive such a Fault as this is punishable by the Laws of England; besides, I never knew before, that my Maid was hired to admire Sir Maggot Jingle.  Lady M. 
How now, little Mushroom? Are you one of her Advocates too? I shall indeed mind your pretty Reasons.  Lovew. 
You'll want your faithful Confident, Sister.  Mar. 
I hope there will be no need of a Confident soon.  Lady M. 
I understand your meaning, pretty Miss, but your Business is done. I can assure you— Sir Maurice, I expect Sir Timothy here this Evening to seal the Writings, be you in the way — [To Mariana.] And you that have hitherto controlled my Will, show yourself Refractory now if you dare.  Mar. 
My Father's Commands shall ever be a supreme Law to me.  Lady M. 
Then you are to learn, Mrs. Lackwit, that it must be my Husband's will, since it is my Pleasure: Hold your impertinent Tongue I say, I am weary of your Nonsense— Sir Maurice, I'll in and give Orders for the Wedding, as I shall think sit in my Wisdom — [To Lovewit.] You Daughter, send immediately to Mr. Engross not to fail at the Hour appointed.  [Exit Lady M. Lovew 
I am sorry, Sister, Fortune proves so cross to your Wishes; this World is full of Disappointments.  [Exit Lovew. Sir Maur. [To Clerimont, coming from the corner where he stood listening.] 
Now you see it very plain, I hope, that she is a Witch, my Heart trembled every Word she spoke. What do you think on't? Tell me freely, is she not an Enchantress? A pox of a Philosopher for a Wise, who the Devil would marry Wit.  Cler 
'Tis more her Noise than her Wit keeps you in awe, Sir; raise but your Voice louder than hers when she offers to speak, and you'll silence her, I warrant you.  Mar. [Kneeling.] 
Oh, dear Sir! on my Knees let me entreat you, do not abandon me to her unreasonable Humour, make use of your Power, you may do it, 'tis nothing but Goodness, too much Goodness in your makes her thus haughty and imperious.  Lucy. 
I vow, Sir, all the Neighbourhood cries shame upon you.  Sir Maur. 
I am as desirous to have her Will opposed in this as any of you can be; but what can I do? How shall I deal with a Devil, that can at her pleasure send a Legion of Evil Spirits to haunt and tear me apieces.  Cler. 
With all her Spells, and Magic Art, Sir; take my word, your Lady can't raise but one Evil Spirit, and that's her own; but if you dare to put on a good Resolution, and follow my Directions, we'll conquer that Evil Spirit, I warrant you.  Mar. 
Once more, good Sir, try what you can do, the Happiness of your own Child depends upon it— Take pity of my Love.  Lucy. 
Come, Sir, pluck up a Courage, stand upon your Prerogative.  Sir Maur [Clocks his Hat.] 
Well— If you'll second me, I'll in, and let her know who is her Master.  Cler. 
Well said.  Sir Maur. 
Tell her that none ought to rule in my Family but I.  Cler. 
Vigorously spoken.  Sir Maur. 
Declare to her that you must be my Son in Law, and no body else.  Cler. 
Kindly and Bravely resolved.  Sir Maur. 
And that if she offers to contradict me, I'll shut her up.  Lucy. 
In Bedlam, I hope.  Sir Maur. 
Come then, follow me all, and be sure to stand by me.  Cler. 
Don't you fear it, Sir.  [Exeunt.  

SCENE Changes. Sir Timothy 's Lodgings.  Enter Trap and Huff. Trap. 
LOok you Roger, 50 l. is the Sum, and the task but easy, for the Man is both a Fool and a Coward.  Huff. 
Honest Jack, Let me alone with him; You know I'd hang my Own Father for half the Money, but where's the Woman?  Trap. 
Oh! Leave that part to me; I'll produce her in good time:— But here comes the Property, put on your Bloody Looks.  [Enter Witless. [Trap seeing his Master coming, altars the Tone of his Voice.] 
I tell you Sir, My Master is a Man of Honour.  Huff. 
With all my heart, Sir.  Trap. 
A Man of Courage, Sir.  Huff. 
All the better Sir; all the better.  Trap. 
That has learned to fence a whole Week; and shown his Valour against the boldest Prentices in Cambridge.  Huff. [Draws and thrust at random, making as if he did not see Witless, who sneaks behind Trap.] 
His Valour! Blood and Thunder! Let me see him. 'Ounds would I had him here.— There at his Heart,— There under the Second Rib;— Curse on the ill luck, I han't killed a Man these three Days, and my Arm grows stiff for want of Exercise.  Trap. 
Pray Sir, Good Sir, be not so furious if you can help it; My Master is a Gentleman understands Reason as well as any body; He'll give you all the Satisfaction you can desire, I'm sure; but pray put up Sir, put up, let me entreat you.  Huff. [Puts up his Sword.] 
Well, Sir, Let's hear what is it you have to say?  Trap. 
I say, Sir, That this Gentleman here is my Master, and can give you the best Answer.  Huff. 
Humh, Sir, are you the Man they call Mr. Witless?  Witless. 
At your Service, good Sir, Honourable Sir.  Huff. 
Service! Blood and Thunder! 'Tis Justice I'll have, and no Service.  Trap: 
Pray, Sir, Moderate your Passion.  Huff. 
Impertinent Varlet! hold thy peace, I charge you— [To Witless.] To be plain Sir, this is my business with you; You have dishonoured my Family, and I must have your Blood for it.  Witless. 
I Sir! I protest I do not know you! I beg your pardon!— Alas, alas, Jack!  Huff. 
Not know me, Blood and Thunder! perhaps so; but you know a Relation of mine, and with a Pox to you, you have known her to good purpose.  Witless. 
Trap, Dear Trap, what's this? Can you guests what it is the Gentleman means?  Trap. 
Not I, by Jericho; I am thinking all this while, what can be the meaning of all this stuff.  Huff. 
Blood and Thunder! What must you stand there ask one another Questions; I tell you Sir, there are two ways and no more, either you must Marry my Cousin, you have after a most felonious manner impregnated, or else give me leave to cut your Throat presently.  Witless. 
O Sweet Sir, Gracious Sir, look upon me; I am not the Man you take me for.  Huff. 
Blood and Thunder! done't you think I'll be put off with a Story; I'll have every drop of thy Blood before I'll suffer mine to be stained: Here is a Paper you must Sign, or by Lucifer the next word you speak, for a denial, I'll make the whole Firmament shine through your Liver.  [Witless reads the Paper. Trap. 
But kind honey Sir, is there no way to accommodate—  Huff. 
What more Questions, you Pragmatical Dog, I'll order you.  Trap. 
I mean no harm to you, Good Sir, but methinks—  Huff. 
Impudent Sycophant, I'll nail thy prating Tongue to the Wall.  Wittl. 
Good sweet obliging Sir, may I speak two words with my Man.  Huff. 
Be short, Rot you, be short.  Witl. [To Trap aside.] 
Look you Jack, this scurvy Paper is nothing less than a promise of Marriage in Blank; for aught I know I may be Married one of these days to some filthy Sucbubus; He threatens to kill me if I don't Sign it; What must I do Jack, speak, what must I do?  Trap. 
Do? That's a pretty Question indeed; Rather die a thousand times and more, than consent to such Infamy; This is some Impudent trick I warrant it, the hussing Rascal has some Strumpet or other whom he has a mind to put off; Fight it out for shame— [Draws] I'll stand by you Sir.  Witl. [Draws, gets behind Trap and thrusts over his Shoulder.] 
Then Trap be stout; Come, you Blood and Thunder, here is my Answer for you.  Huff. 
Are you for the sport then? have at you.  Witl. 
Push on brave Jack, push on.  Trap. [Thrusts.] 
Don't you fear Sir, spare him not— At his Heart directly if you can.  Huff. 
You Pander, stand off, or by the Bloody Bones of Dagon, this Steel shall make itself a passage to his Heart through yours.  Trap. 
I Scorn your Words Sir, I'll die upon the spot, rather than forsake my good Master; Thrust on Sir, thrust on, we'll Swinge him I warrant you.  Huff. 
Then Villain, take this— [Trap falls as if he were Wounded. [To Witless.] Now for you Sir—  Witless. [On his Knees.] 
Oh Sir! Valiant Sir, put up I beseech you, I'll do any thing, I'll sign any Paper, I'll Marry any body.  Huff. 
I am very glad, Sir, to see you come to reason, for I have a great Esteem for you, and 'twould have gone against my Heart, I vow, to kill a Gentleman who is to be my near Relation; here is the Paper, Sir, be pleased to set your hand to it, I love to be Civil.  Witl. 
Ay Sir; But if the Lady—  Huff. 
Blood and Thunder! What more reasoning yet.—  Witl. 
Oh! No Sir, give me, give me— [Witless signs the Paper, and gives it to to Huff. There Sir— Alas, alas!—  Huff. 
Now dear Cousin Witless, your most humble Servant; I esteem myself very happy in the honour of your Alliance.  Witl. 
Pox of his Honour,— By the University I'm in a fine Pickle, bound to Marry a Witch for aught I can tell; and my Honest, my Faithful, my Fight Trap murdered.  Trap. [Lifting his head.] 
Bless me, Sir, is the Man gone?  Witl. 
Oh Fortune! Trap alive?  Trap. [Rises.] 
Ay Alive, and Unhurt, I hope.  Witl. 
How! Unhurt, Jack; Did not I see you fall Dead upon the place?  Trap. 
No, on my word, Sir, 'twas only a certain Giddiness takes me at the sight of a Naked Sword; 'tis an infirmity I had from my Youth.  Witl. 
Pray feel Jack if I am wounded; I may be Killed for aught I know.  Trap. 
Nay you are in the right, for in the heat of Fight 'tis seldom wounds are felt, can you Whistle, let's hear.— [Witless whistels in a ridiculous manner. That's well. Now let me see you Jump three times for the three Kingdoms.  [Jumps three times. 
Oh rare! I warrant you Living, and as sound as a Roach; but pray now, what have you done about the Paper, the Cursed Paper.  Witl. 
Oh! The Villain made me set my Hand to it; I thought, Jack, 'twas better doing so, than be butchered by that Turk, and Infidel; His very Looks are enough to fright one out of Life; I vow as he stood thrusting at us, methought I saw Death and Massacre peeping out of the Corners of his Eyes; but I'll be even with him, I warrant him, for before Sir Timothy can hear of this, I'll to my Uncle in the Temple, and Hang the Rogue.  Trap. 
Pray while his hand is in, let him dispatch the Lady in Blank too, for if the Jade be once hanged, no Law in England can oblige you to marry her.  Witl. 
Well considered Faith; follow me Jack, and let's lose no time.  [Exit. Trap. 
By no means Sir.  

Hanging will fail, I know, but I decree,  
The Marriage-Knot shall more successful be;  
And of these two the Destinies have told,  
No matter which, so either of 'em hold.     

ACT V.  

Sir Maurice 's House.  Sir Timothy Witless, Witless. Witl. 
BUt, Sir, a Coquet, a French Coquet, the word frights me; She'll have too much mettle for me: I shall be a Cuckold by the University I shall.  Sir Tim. 
I have known your Mistress from a Child, Tim, and I am satisfied with my Choice; take this from me, Young Man, there is more Innocency in that brisk, pleasant, and free humour of hers, than in the sullen, rigid, and severe temper of many of her Sex, who thinking their Character secures 'em even from the Suspicion of Vice, Blind and deceive the World with a false appearance of Virtue, only to play their Under-game the more securely.  Witl. 
But, Sir, is there no certain compass for a Man to steer by upon the stormy Sea of Matrimony, without splitting against the Rock of Cuckoldom?  Sir Tim. 
There is no certain rule for it, Tim; however, let me give you this advice, Love your Wise hearty and sincerely, be kind and faithful to her, and do not starve her Long; This is the best rule I know to keep her honest.  Witl. 
'Dslife! must a Husband then be bound to his good behaviour?  Sir Tim. 
Yes certainly; for 'tis the most Unaccountable thing in the World for a Man to complain that his Wife is not Virtuous, to whom he gives the worst Example for Vice; Her disloyalty cannot be justified that's true; but still his anger is Unreasonable. Look to yourself Tim when you come to be Married, for on my conscience 'tis a dangerous thing to provoke a Wise, who has always a revenge at hand.  Witl. 
But, Sir, I may be kind to my Wife, and yet a Cuckold, what then?  Sir Tim. 
Oh! In that case Boy, you must, like a Wise Alderman, put your Hands into your Pockets and Whistle.  Witl. 
Zookers! and is this all?  Sir Tim. 
No Tim, there is still this comfort left you, that the Horners of the Town make some Conscience of their way, and are not quite so bad as Thiefs and Robbers, who plunder and go away with all; No, the Gentlemen are mannerly, I must say that for 'em, for if they by chance break in, they take but just as much as will serve their turn, and always leave enough for a Man.  Witl. 
Mercy, Sir! commend me to good breeding; but still my Honour Sir, my Honour: can your Mannerly Gentlemen take it away by bits and halves too.  Sir Tim. 
Honour Boy is but the Vulgar Error of Jealousy, or the Bugbear of a Sick fancy; make no noise Tim and all may be well, for to my knowledge many a Man go for Cuckolds in the World, who are not really so, and many are deeply so, who have not the reputation of it.— But here come the Ladies.  Enter Lady Meanwel, Catchat, Lovewit, and Engross, with Write. Lovew. 
Come Mr. Engross, you must change your rude and barbarous Style, and put these Articles of Marriage into more rhetorical Language; try if you can Hourish them a little with a few passages out of Parthenissa, Grand Cyrus, or so.  Engross. 
Our style, Madam, is like the Laws of the Medes and Serpents unalterable.  Catch. 
Your Custom is a strange Tyrant sure, methinks you might at least be so Gentile, as to date after the Roman manner, by Ideses and Calends.  Engross. 
This is a contract between English Parties, and no Romans, Madam, You confound me.  Catch. 
But for all you Mr. Engross, when I Marry, which I know will be soon now, I'll have all my Write drawn in Hieroglyphics, and some Egyptian Priest, or Brachman of India to perform the Office.  Engross. 
Faith, Lady, those Gentlemen live a great way off, and if you stay to Marry, till their arrival, your Virginity will deserve a place in the Oxford Nackatory, among the pieces of Antiquity.  Enter Sir Maurice, Clerimont, and Mariana. Cler. [To Sir Maur.] 
Remember, Sir, that your Wife is but a Woman, a mere Woman, and no Devil, no Enchantress.  Sir Maur. 
I'll order her, I warrant you, do but observe me.  Maria. 
Consider, Dear Sir, I'm undone if she prevails.  Sir Maur. 
Don't you fear it, Child.  Lovew. [To Catch.] 
I cannot but admire at my Sister's fancy; that she should bring in Clerimont, to be a Witness of his Rival's Triumph.  Catch. 
You are mistaken still in Clerimont, Niece, he is carrying on another Intrigue than People imagine; I say little, but the thing will soon come out.  Lady M. 
Are you ready Mr. Engross?  Engross. 
I want only the Names of the Parties; which is the Bride pray?  Lady M. 
Here Sir, my Daughter-in-Law.  Sir Maur. 
Very well; her Name is Mariana, Sir.  [Engross writes. Engross. 
Now for the Bridegroom.  Lady M. 
Here's the Gentleman, Sir, Mr. Timothy Witless.  Sir Maur. 
And I say here's the Gentleman, Sir, Mr. Charles Clerimont.  Engross. 
hay day! Two Husbands to one Wife, that's more than the Law allows, though perhaps no more than a Woman could very well dispense withal.  Lady M. [To Engross.] 
Why do you regard what other people say, Mr. Engross?  Sir Maur. [To Engross.] 
Did I not name Clerimont to you? what makes you stare?  Engross. 
Uddsbudds! agree among yourselves if you will, I'll go no further else.  Witl. [aside.] 
What a Pox, my Dancing Master my Rival; Old Sir Maurice sure, has a mind to make himself merry with him.—  Enter Trap, who takes Sir Timothy aside. Trap. 
There's a Lady and a Gentleman below, Sir, have earnest business with you.  Sir Tim. 
Surely thou art mad, couldst not thou tell 'em I was abroad.  Trap. 
Oh Sir! You never saw such a Man in your Life, them sure; I told him a thousand times at least, that you were here about business of great Importance; but he very unmannerly clapped a Pistol to my Breast, and Swore I was a dead Man, if I did not bring him to you immediately.  Sir Tim. 
What can this mighty business be?— With Sir Maurice's leave bring 'em in.  Sir Maur. [To Engross.] 
Come make an end, Mr. Engross, do as I bid you, for I have past my word, and I won't be an Ass.  [Sir Timothy walks about the Door Huff and the Lady are to come in at. Lady M. 
And so have I, Sir Maurice, and I won't be a Goose, but since there is no remedy, and my will I must have in spite of your Teeth, my Daughter here shall disengage your word, the Gentleman, if he knows how to value Wit, will thank me sure for this piece of Condescension.  Cler. 
Your Daughter, Madam, may be a Miracle of Wit and Beauty, but still I cannot but glory in owning to you, that I had rather die a thousand times than renounce my Love.  Catch. [aside.] 
They might have proposed one to him, I know, would have been more acceptable.  Lovew. [To Cler.] 
There was no need for you, Sir, to put yourself to the Expense of so fiery a protestation; I am not in so desperate a condition yet, as to rob my Sister of her few Admirers.  [Enter Huff and Lucy disguised like a great bellied Woman, Sir Tim. and Huff seem to argue very hotly at the Entrance. Cler. 
I shall never desire, Madam, to put you to the trial.  Huff. [Breaks from Sir Timothy, and comes towards the Company.] 
An Impostor! Blood and Thunder! I an Impostor! we shall try that, by Lucifer, we shall.  Sir Maur. 
Pray, Sir, what's the matter? why in such a passion?  Huff. [blowing.] 
Sir I beg your pardon, I beg your pardon; You look like a Gentleman, and though a Stranger to me I'll not scruple to make you a Judge between Sir Timothy, and this disconsolate Lady: Let me but compose myself a little, for his rudeness has strangely disordered me.  [While Huff is speaking, Lucy falls a hugging and caressing Witless. Lucy. 
O sweet Honey! Cream of my Joys, have I found thee at last, I must Hugg thou; I must Buss thee till my Lips ache.  Witl. 
Away, Satan, away; I know thee not.  Lucy. 
O dear pretty smiling Rogue, how I Love thee! How Charmingly thou lookest; I vow thou wert unkind not to write to me, I must Kiss thee for that too.  Witl. 
By the University, the Women of this Town are as hot as Hellfire.  Huff. [To Sir Maurice.] 
I shall not trouble you, Sir, with a long story; the Gentlewoman you see here is a near Relation of mine, who lived in Cambridge; She always had the reputation of as Modest and Virtuous a Lady as ever that Town bred, but her Eyes having the fatal Luck to boil Mr. Witless' Blood into a Ferment, the young Gentleman would never be satisfied without a full Enjoyment of her Unfortunate body: She held out a great while, the poor Creature, but the Devil being powerful, and Female Flesh Frail and Willing, she was forced to Capitulate, and surrender the Fort of her Honour upon Articles; to be short Sir, he gave her a promise of Marriage: Now hearing he was to be married to another, I made bold to intrude myself, the business being of such consequence, as will I hope Apologise for the freedom.  Witl. [Aside to Sir Timothy.] 
I assure you Sir, 'tis an Impudent Lie, the fellow has told, examine into the business a little, and you shall see.  Sir Maur. [To Huff.] 
Oddslicks! There was no need, Sir, of Apology for your coming; you are most Welcome I promise you, make the most you can of your business.  Sir Tim. [To Huff.] 
Sir, may I speak two words with you?  Huff. 
Ay, Sir, with all my Heart.  Sir Tim 
You talk of a Promise of Marriage under my Son's hand, where is that Promise, pray, where is it?  Huff. 
Not far Sir,— [To Lucy.] Come, Cousin, produce your Title to Mr. Witless his Body.  Lucy. 
I have two Sir,— [Pulls a Paper which she gives to Sir Tim.] There is one of 'em,— The other is forth coming.  Sir Tim. [Showing the Paper to Witl.] 
Tim. is this your hand? Look?  Witl. 
Yes, Sir, so far I own.  [Sir Tim. reads to himself. Sir Maur. 
'Sdlife! What will come of this pretty Story, there would be a wonder now, Ladies, should a Scholar prove a Fornicator like other Men.  Sir Tim. 
Oh the filthy Monster! Is this your Cambridge breeding with a Pox?  Witl. 
I protest Sir, I am innocent, I never laid with a Woman in my life— 
* Every time Witless goes about to Vindicate himself, Huff lays his Hand upon his Sword, which makes him to recant.  but twice.  Sir Tim. 
But twice with a Rope to you! what must you be a thousand times about it?  Witl. 
I Swear by both the Proctors of the University, I never attempted any thing upon the Sex— without their consent.  Sir Maur. 
Now Lady, surely here is a Lawful Impediment with a Vengeance, why Mr. Witless should not be joined in Matrimony to my Daughter.  Sir Tim. 
I'll Examine the Woman— [To Lucy.] Pray Mistress, where did you first know my Son?  Lucy. 
Your Son, Sir, Knew me first at Cambridge.  Sir Tim. 
Did he Visit you often Mistress?  Lucy. 
Not often; but when he did, 'twas to some purpose, I assure you, the last time he carried me to Trumpington, there he Feasted me, the good Man, I never saw him so wanton in my Life.  Sir Tim. 
Trumpington! Oh the Damned Town! It lies upon the Road to Hell; I lost my Maidenhead there before I knew I had one— But pray how far are you gone Mistress?  Lucy. 
My reckoning, Sir, as one may say, is from Sturbitch-Fair, we had a merry meeting there, I assure you, I shall remember it as long as I live.  Sir Tim. 
Oh, 'tis too true! I'll ask no more questions; I remember now I sent him his Quarter about that time, it must be so; Oh the Villain!  Sir Maur. 
Now Witty Females; what have you to say to this? You may brag of your Scholars indeed.  Catch. 
Brother, this failure of the Flesh is a Natural propensity, against which our Philosophy prescribes no Rules.  Witl. 
Give me leave, Sir, but to speak now in my defence; and I'll warrant you I'll make it as plain as any thing— [Huff laying his hand on his Sword.] that I have nothing to say against what the Gentleman spoke before.  Sir Tim. 
Hold thy peace then Silly Puppy— [To Trap aside.] Look you honest Trap, I have given thee Warning, that's true, but thou art a Civil Fellow; I'll keep thee, if thou canst do me a piece of Service.  Trap. 
Oh Sir! Do you question my Zeal? You wrong me I vow, were I to be dismissed next Minute, I would part with you like a Christian; pray what's the business, Sir?  Sir Tim. 
You see, Trap, this unlucky Wench is like to spoil my Son's match, I would have you take the man to yourself, and try what you can do with him. If a Present of 500 Guinea's will satisfy him, I'll give it freely; in the mean while, I'll make Sir Maurice believe 'twas only a mistake.  Trap. 
Do you but look well to your part, Sir, and trust me with mine, and I'll warrant you, things will go swimmingly on our side.  Sir Tim. 
[To Sir Maur.] All this Story, Sir Maurice, proves at last nothing but a mistake; the man took my Son for one Jeremy Witless of Bristol, now Listed in Flanders.  [Trap takes Huff aside, they make as if they were arguing together. Lady M. 
I thought indeed, a man of Greek and Latin was above those Infirmities.  Huff. 
Blood and Thunder, 500 Guinea's! I'll hang the whole Generation of 'em before I take 6000 l. What, for pitiful 500 l. sell the Honour of my Family!  [Walks backward and forward between Trap and the Company. Sir Maur. 
Sir Timothy, what's the matter now with the Gentleman? He makes a noise, and talks, I think, of 6000 l.  Sir Tim. 
The poor man is mad I fancy, that he has missed his Prey; I suppose he says, he'd give 6000 l. to find him out.  Huff. 
[Breaking off from Trap.] Blood and Thunder, let me go; I'll cut the Throat of Father and Son, or I'll have better satisfaction before I part.  Enter Meanwell, affecting a great sadness. Mean. 
I am sorry, Brother, I must make of this Day of Joy the most melancholy Day of your Life, by imparting to you the saddest News you could expect.  Sir Maur. 
Oh Heavens! Brother, what is it?  Mean. 
Our Hamburgh Ship has brought this dismal Account, that Mynheer Van Punk is broke, and—  Sir Maur. 
Alas! alas! I am undone, undone for ever, 20000 l. at a clap, I shall not be able to show my Head.  Mar. 
Oh the unseasonable Misfortune!  Lady M. 
Why so concerned, Sir Maurice? What, now your weak and puny Soul must fret, and be disturbed at this! Thanks to Philosophy, mine is firm and unshaken.  Lovew. 
My Fortune is safe still; what Love could not do, Interest may— I'll not despair.  [Aside. Sir Tim. [To Witl.] 
Oddszookers! the Case is altered: Hark you, Tim, I have always observed, that a man never thrives in the World that has wronged a modest Woman; therefore in point of Interest, as well as Conscience, you must marry this Lady, and as a Penance for your not Renouncing the Flesh, Woman, and the Devil, swallow the bitter Cup of Matrimonial Twist.  Witl. 
I marry that Woman! Sir, I beg your Pardon, I should be a Cornuto, and you know 'tis the only thing I hate.  Sir Tim. 
Good Boy, a man makes himself ridiculous in the World, that affects Singularity in any thing; you'll be Cuckolded a little before your time, that's true, but 'tis the fashion now, therefore no Soul living will take notice of it.  Witl. 
Is it so upon your word, Sir? Or do you jest?  Sir Tim. 
Ay, Tim, upon my honest word 'tis even so— Cuckoldom is a raging Grievance of the Nation for all my mincing the matter. Just now, believe me, as many men as you see walking in the Streets, are as many Cuckolds.  Witl. 
How so, pray? They are not all married sure.  Sir Tim. 
There is all the difference, Boy; with those that are married their business is done, with those that are not, their business is now doing: It was so with you, and just so 'twill be with 'em, comfort yourself with that.  Witl. 
I am as glad as any thing 'tis so, I protest I am, for to tell you the truth, the thing disturbed me a little; but since you say 'tis the Mode, I scorn to be singular.  Sir Tim. 
Besides, Tim, Mrs. Meanwell has now lost her Fortune, and Beggar for Beggar, 'tis much better for us you marry this good Lady here, for by this means we avoid a chargeable Suit, the man was talking of no less than 6000 l. Damages; hang him, 6000 l. would undo us—  Witl. 
By the University, I do not think there is one thousand pounds' difference between an Honest Woman, and a Common one.  Cler. 
Oh the Brute! what pity it had been a Woman of Virtue had fallen to the Lott of such a Fool, who does not understand the Value of so great a Treasure.  [Aside. Witl. 
By the tip of Plato's Ear, I am of the opinion of that famous Poet Tacitus, who says, He had rather be Cuckolded by a pretty coaksing loving Wife, than escape the Dishonour, either through the Ugliness, or the surly Virtue of one peevishly Honest.  Huff. 
Sir Timothy, I rejoice to see things run thus in a right Channel, and to make my Joy complete, I have but one Favour more to beg of you, viz. That Mr. Witless, and my dear Relation here, may be joined instantly, for I am commanded with my Regiment for Flanders to morrow early, and I should not cross the Sea with a quiet Mind, should I leave this piece of Work unfinished.  Sir Tim. 
With all my Heart, Sir, but where shall we find an Executioner?  Huff. 
I have a Levitical Conjurer below, who, with Sir Maurice's leave, will give us a touch of his Black Art.  Sir Maur. 
My House, Sir, is at your service.  Sir Tim. 
What say you to it, Tim? Come hang Consideration, the shortest Follies are best.  Witl. 
Come then, Pig in a Poke, away to the Conjurer, thou art not the first has carried a great Belly to the Parson.  [Exeunt Sir Timothy, Witless, Huff, and Lucy. Sir Maur. 
Clerimont, I promised myself a great deal of Happiness in the Honour of your Alliance; but since my Hopes are defeated, and I cannot, in the Circumstances I am in at present, offer poor Mariana to you for a Wife; I must thank you for your Civilities to her, and wish you somewhere else a Fortune answerable to your Merit.  Cler. 
You offend me, Sir Maurice, with this Discourse: As it was not for her Fortune I courted your fair Daughter, so this Loss shall make no change in me; I love her better than ever I did, all I have in the World is hers, and consequently at your service.  Lovew. 
Then farewell to my Hopes there, I am put to my last Prayers indeed, but rather than fail I'll make sure of Sir Maggot Jingle, his Wit shall be my Excuse.  [Aside. Mar. [To Cler.] 
No, Clerimont, you are too Generous, and whatever Violence I do to my Inclination in pronouncing the Words, we must part, Fortune has crossed my Wishes, and placed my Heart beneath you.  Cler. 
Oh kill words! Cruel Mariana! do you, do you oppose my Happiness? Who could have suspected it? My Heart was not prepared for so severe a stroke.  Mar. 
'Tis not, Clerimont, because I hate you, or love you less; Heaven, that sees into my Breast, knows how pure and sincere is my Love for you, but I am sensible that your Estate requires a present Fortune to make you easy: I wished to be yours, when I had reason to hope my Father's Kindness would have made us live happily in the World; but since Heaven has decreed otherwise, I must not be so ungrateful to your Love, as to desire to be an Obstacle to your Fortune.  Cler. 
If you have not a mind, Divine Mariana, to see a sad Lover expire at your Feet, forbear talking, any more of Fortune, the whole World without you cannot make me happy, and with you I am richer than the greatest Monarch upon Earth.  Mar. 
Fortune, which has robbed me of all my Hopes, could not rob you of my Heart, it is yours, Clerimont, in spite of her, and if I owed it all before to your Love, what can I give now to your Generosity?  Cler. 
Yourself, Madam, and in you all that this World can gratify my Ambition withal.  Enter Sir Timothy, Witless, Huff, and Lucy. Witl. [Leading Lucy, and turning her round.] 
I fancy the Sin is worth the owning, the Creature feels as a sound piece of Mortality; 'tis but supposing the first night we lay together, that we have been married 4 or 5 months, and all is well.  Sir Tim. 
Good Tim, my mind is now at ease, to see you a man like myself, and by this Heroic Act of yours do I know you to be of the true Blood of the Witlesses, who for these five Generations have outbraved Cuckoldom: Come, thou art a good Boy, and hast the true notion of the thing.  Witl. 
Nay, I think I am as good a man as I was before; my Leg is as straight now as it was in the morning, and I find not the least alteration in my Health; why should I be melancholy? I see no cause, not I  Lucy. 
This is the Wheel of Fortune, Mr. Witless; when People boast of Favours they never enjoyed, they come often to father Children they never got: [Throws off her Disguise.] But see, you have better Luck than you deserve.  Sir Tim. 
Hell and Furies! what have we here?  Lucy. 
Honest Lucy, at your service, as pure a Virgin as ever was born— for all your bragging, Mr. Witless—  Witl. 
Trap, you Trap, by the University thy pretty Sister— Oddszooks! 'tis well 'tis no worse.  Trap. 
I had a pretty Match for her in my Eye, but since Destiny throws her upon you, I'll not contend with your Stars; take her and wear her, she is yours, I hope you'll use her civilly.  Lady M. 
Surely Sir Timothy will not suffer his witty Son to be thus prostituted to an illiterate Abigail—  Sir Tim. 
Not I, by Hell! This is an impudent Cheat, a Trick of that Rascal there, I smoke it out, but I'll see 'em all hanged; I'll to Justice immediately: Justice! Justice!  [Exit. Witl. 
You may hang the rest if you please, Father, but I'll take care to hang this little Rogue myself: Come, dear Lucy, thou melting Sugar-loaf of Pleasure, thou art a good Girl, by the University I always loved thee; give me thy Hand, I'll say it once more, thou art my Wife: Let Sir Timothy fume, my Mother's Land is 500 l. per Annum, and that's enough for us: Hocus Pocus, thou art a Maid to day, I'll make thee a Woman to morrow.  Lucy. 
So much Justice you own me, I'm sure for your vain boasting; but look to yourself now, I'll be even with you, I warrant you, and turn your Fictions into Real History with a Vengeance.  Sir Maur. 
Now, Lady Grumble, are you convinced that Mr. Witless is not to have my Daughter? Shall we at last have the favour of your Consent for this Gentleman.  Lady M. 
No, Sir Maurice, not as long as I breath; what, do you think I'll admit into my Family a Despiser of Wit, one who knows well enough I'm an Author, and never had the manners to ask me to read any of my Works to him?  Cler. 
I am not, Madam, such an Enemy to Wit as your Ladyship makes me, I love it but as a Gentleman, without either Pride or Affectation; I could Entertain the Company with a small Essay of my Poetry, a SONG I made yesterday, if you could promise yourselves patience enough to hear it.  Lady M. 
Hear it? Ay, with all our Hearts; who is there to sing it?  
SONG.  

LOve, thou art best of Human Joys,  
Our chiefest Happiness below,  
All other Pleasures are but Toys;  
Music, without thee, is but Noise,  
And Beauty but an empty Show.   

Heaven, who knew best what Man could move,  
And raise his Thoughts above the Brute,  
Said, Let him be, and let him love,  
That must alone his Soul improve,  
However Philosopher's dispute.   Wilt. 
I protest the man writes well enough for a Fiddler.  Sir Maur. 
Oh rare! I hope your Ladyship is satisfied now.  Lady M. 
Yes, Sir Maurice, I'm satisfied that that man must be your Son-in-Law; and my Reason for it is, because he is a Ninny, and a Booby.  Sir Maur. 
'Sdeath! what a Babel is here? Where are we now?  Lady M. 
Where are we, say you? In the worst place in the World for Manners sure; what for a man to be so hardy, so Effronté, and so destitute of Politeness and Complaisance, as to affront Philosophy to my face, is a Crime never to be atoned for, however Philosopher's dispute, quoth he: That's as much as to say, we are Fools; my Sister, Daughter, and I, all Fools.  Mean. 
I never heard my Sister draw a more natural Conclusion in my Life.  Lady M. 
But I'll revenge Philosophy I'm resolved; and to make an Example of this Unmannerly Composer of Songs, I'll inflict upon him the Curse of a poor silly Portionless Wife. Sir Mauriee, whether you will or no, that ignorant Songster there shall have your Daughter, his shallow Wit will fit her little Genius, as well as her Hamburgh Fortune his shattered Estate.  Cler. 
Please yourself, Madam, with your mean Railleries', I am sensible of nothing but my present Happiness.  Sir Maur. 
Did not I tell you, Mariana, we should carry the day? I knew well enough I should bring it to pass. Now we are all pleased, I hope.  Mean. 
Only, poor Sister Catchat, she has reason to take it ill, that in so plentiful a distribution of Human Flesh she can catch nothing, but must at last take up with her Men in the Moon, or her Visions and Chimeras.  Catch. 
Ay, Chimeras; let my Niece look to herself, there reigns one still in Clerimont's Heart will make her live uneasy all her days, let me tell her that, and so Adieu.  [Exit. Lady M. 
Insert this in the Articles, Mr. Engross; I charge you, that this illiterate Couple shall never come into my House, I'll not be pestered with stupid Creatures, not I  Sir Maur. 
Not into my House? By my Lord Maylor I'll leave you, Lady Petulant, with your Jingles to make Almanacs and Ballads.  Lady M. 
Yes, yes, the World shall see how much I value Wit in spite of Fools; Sir Maggot Jingle shall be my Son-in-Law, and for the future none shall be admitted into my House but Beaux Esprits; therefore, Sir Maurice, think of another Habitation for yourself.  Cler. [To Sir Maur.] 
You are Master of my House, Sir, and shall Command in it more absolutely than you did in your own.  Lady M. 
The Kindness, Sir, will be seasonable.  Mean. 
Then since you are pleased so impertinently to Insult, know, Sister, to your confusion, that the News from Hamburgh is false, that my Niece's Fortune is not lost, but rather improved by a considerable Return. I put this trick upon you to try your Philosophy, and let the World see to the bottom of Female Wits.  Sir Maur. 
Oh, dear Brother, you revive me! How happy am I, that I have still a fortune to make a Return to Clerimont's Generosity— [To Cler.] It is all yours, Sir; give me leave to make the rest of my Life happy in your, and my Daughter's Company, and retire with you into Essex.  Mar. 
This will complete my Happiness, Heaven be thanked: I shall have all I could wish for in this World, my Father, and Clerimont.  Lady M. 
And blessed be my Stars, say I, that Ignorance and Wit shall dwell no more together; farewel rude and unpolished Crowd: You witty Daughter of mine, follow me.  [Exeunt Lady M. and Lovewit. Mean. 
Brother, let this Day be Celebrated as a Day of Joy and Deliverance to your Family, from the Tyrannical and Arbitrary Power of a Proud, Scolding, Whimsical, Philosophical Wife: You have now got a second that will stand by you, I'm sure. Let not therefore an impertinent Female Wit Usurp again so unreasonable an Empire over you.  Sir Maur. 
I'll make the best of your Advice to be sure; but, good Brother, whatever the Task may seem to one without Experience, take my word all married men find it a difficult one.  
Man first was destined for the sovereign Sway,  
But haughty Woman, scorning to obey,  
Called to her Beauty's Aid, the Serpent's Art,  
Surprised his Reason, and Ensnared his Heart:  
Since when we struggle for our Right in vain,  
Their Tongues and Eyes will still the Rule maintain. etc.     

EPILOGUE.  
Spoken by Mrs. Catchat.  

I Tried to leave you, gentlemans, in vain,  
The rest are gone, but I'm returned again;  
And that you're pleased, my Vanity discovers,  
I'll set you all down in my List of Lovers,  
And think you so, whate'er Defence you make;  
Nay more, I'll prove is for my Humour's sake,  
That none are Happy, but through some Mistake.   

The fairest Nymph that thinks sh'as gained a Heart,  
And does her Favours, with her Smiles, impart,  
Whilst here the Spark practices all his Graces,  
Ne'er thinks, alas! they're levelled at new Faces,  
Cheated on still by his  Eyes,  
She vainly fancies, 'tis for her he dies.   

The Elder Ladies too, of past Renown,  
Have their Mistakes; Stolen Fortunes of the Town  
Think there's no Lord, but might ha' been their own.  
And slighting Lovers of their Fancy born,  
Starve for that Blessing they affect to Scorn;  
At length Despised, turn Censurers, and Nice,  
And boast of Virtue, 'cause unfit for Vice.   

You, Rising Suns, who see their dreadful Fate,  
Take Warning, Marry e'er it be too late,  
For Youth's the surest Charm to Captivate.   

Our Author too, for who so Vain as they,  
Would needs believe that you Approve his Play;  
Even humour him for Once, and give him Cause,  
Warm him but with the Fire of your Applause.   

Then, If again his Muse her Voice shall raise,  
Yours be the Merit, yours be all the Praise;  
You make the POET, he but makes the PLAYS.   
FINIS.