THE Mock-Marriage. A COMEDY, ACTED At the THEATRE in DORSET GARDEN, By His MAJESTY's Servants.  
Written by Mr. SCOTT.  
— Et Augusto recitantes mensae Poetas.  Juv. Sat. 3. 
LONDON, Printed for H. Rhodes, in Fleet-street; J. Harris, in the Poultry; and S. Briscoe, in Russel-street, the Corner of Charles-street, Covent-Garden. 1696.  
Advertisement. She Ventures, and He Wins: A New Comedy. Written by a Young Lady.   

THE PREFACE.  
NOtwithstanding the many Accidents that concurred to the Ruin of this Play, it succeeded above my Expectations: And I must own myself infinitely obliged to the Town, in receiving so favourably, what I at first never designed for the Stage; it being only the Product of some leisure Hours, which indeed might have been worse employed. Had I known the Stage as well as one who undertakes to writ for it ought, perhaps I might have performed better; but I must look on Things of this nature rather as my Diversion than Employment. If those few Friends I have are not disobliged herein, I shall have no reason to complain.  
As for the Play itself, it is not my Business either to reckon up, or defend the Faults urged against it: They who pretend to writ by Rule, and at the same time hope to divert the Town, will, I fear, bave but little more than their Labour for their Pains. Peoples Tastes are different in all Ages; and that which was extremely well received in the last, will be scarce looked upon in this; for the Muses, as modest and reserved as they are, must svit their Habits to the times, or they will be exploded; To entertain in private, and divert in public, are two different Talents, and, I believe, both equally difficult.  
To conclude, this, with all its Faults, I am now obliged to publish; I must confess I think it so mean, that had it been possible I had disowned it. But the inquisitiveness of some People was so effectual, as to drag me out by force; and I now stand exposed to the Fury of the Multitude. One great thing laid to my Charge, in the management of the PLAY, is Prolixity( a Fault I will not here again be guilty of) I own it a Miscarriage scarce to be pardoned, and can impute it to nothing but my unexperience in things of this Nature: But should I ever play the Fool again, it shall be with more Caution and Moderation.   

PROLOGUE: Spoken by Miss. across.  
YOur Servant, Sirs: I'm come— Nay, why d'ye wear  
Such Anger in your Eyes? I vow and swear  
T'have put me out; and I am so dismayed,  
I can't remember what I should have said.  
I fear, do what I can, you all are come,  
resolved upon a Young-Beginners Doom:  
And our poor Friend will find you, to his Cost,  
Like Birds of Prey, watching a dying Host.  
Hard-hearted Men, if I must ask in vain!  
I 'm sure I never shall trouble you again.  
I must confess, he is a Fool t'oppose  
One tender Maid 'gainst such a Crowd of Foes;  
The captious Beaux's, and the ill-natured Wits;  
The thinking critics, and unthinking Cits:  
Those head-strong Judges, 'tis in vain t'emplore 'em;  
With well-arm'd forehead we'll bear all before' em.  
Or are my Fears in vain? I 'm sure ere while  
You gently did on our Endeavours smile,  
When our old Lords, those Giants of the Stage,  
Did in wild Fury with our Youth engage.  
But David can, as they in shane found true,  
Both wear Goliah's Sword, and wield it too.  
Be kind then to his Youth, and, for my sake,  
Don't all th' Advantages you meet with, take:  
'tis a small Boon I ask; The Poet spare,  
Good tender Sirs, in Kindness to the Play'r.  
Shall I prevail? I hope I shall. Howe'er,  
If you all come resolved to be severe,  
If he must die, at least he humbly preys  
His Judges, to reprieve him for Three Days.   

EPILOGUE: Spoken by Mrs. KNIGHT.  
OF all the Fools, that now infest the Town,  
( As we have many) you will meet with none  
Detested more by all Judicious Men,  
Than the poor Wretch that ventures on the Pen.  
All other Fools you pity, or excuse;  
But him you're bound in Conscience to misuse.  
The Fool of Fortune is your dear Delight;  
Ten thousand Pounds a-year can keep all right.  
The keeping Fool, what bold Tongue dares accuse?  
You may keep any Mistress but a Muse.  
The Fool in Office has your daily Grace,  
Which you pay not to him, but to his Place.  
In short we find( and sure there's something in't)  
All Fools are safe, but the poor Fool in Print.  
We have a scribbling Wretch within, I fear  
Whate'er he thinks, will find no better cheer,  
Than all his Predecessors met with here.  
For th'idle Fool took no care to secure  
One single Friend amongst you all, and sure  
A Man in his Condition's past all Cure.  
I blamed him for it; but he says he knows  
No Favour he can hope for from the Beaux:  
For in sincerity he does profess,  
He knows not what they are but by their Dress.  
For the Wits Voices he would humbly pray,  
Did not their Talent lye the other way.  
And to the Ladies( to his shane be it said)  
He is so modest, he can't show his Head.  
Then use him roughly, nip him in the Bud,  
He'll grow too sturdy if he's not withstood.  
But hold, methinks, I hear some wisely say,  
'tis not your Interest sure to damn the Play.  
Well, if y'are kind to this, ere we give over,  
You'll find we've better for you in our store.  
He that sets forth a well-appointed Feast,  
Does never at the first produce the best:  
If you will be t'our first Endeavours good,  
Our next Dish shall be more substantial Food.   

Drammatis Persona.  Mr. Disney. Mr. Horden. Mr. powel. Mr. Verbrugen. Mr. Johnson. Mr. Lee.     Lawyer.   Mrs. Knight. Mrs. Rogers. Mrs. Verbrugen. Mrs. Finch. Mrs. Newman. Mrs. clerk. Mr. Bullock. Quaker. Mrs. powel. Daughter. Mrs. Urwin. Musicians.   
Scene LONDON.   

THE Mock-Marriage.  

ACT I.  

SCENE I. SCENE, A Parlour.  Enter Fairly and Bellfont. Fair. 
AND are these all the Diversions this Town affords?  Bell. 
O no, there are an hundred other things, that pass with the same stamp upon 'em; Men are become as fantastical in their Pleasures as their Devotions; we are now adays grown nice and speculative: Every Man is for abstracting something or other, peculiar to his own Humour, which he varnishes over with the Name of Pleasure, tho' it be in itself never so uncouth and ridiculous: You shall have some whose chief delight lies in reading a Play, with a good Grace, to my Lady, after Dinner, passing a compliment or two upon her Daughter; or, in their absence, sporting with her Lap-dog, perhaps the more sociable Creature of the two.  Fair. 
These, it may be, are old Fools, sunk beneath the taste of more refined Pleasures, and by Age rendered unfit for any thing else.  Bell. 
No, Faith, lusty young Fellows, with brawny backs, and full faces, designed by Nature for nobler ends, but bebauch'd in the very Cradle; their Mothers made Fools of 'em whilst they are young, and they make Fools of themselves ever after.  Fair. 
But don't these Fools consider in the mean time, how unjust they are both to themselves and their Country? Can they lie so securely at home, whilst all the Youth of Europe are in Arms, and not be roused by the neighbouring War, which roars so loud it almost shakes their Houses?  Bell. 
Why, Faith, Ned, the grave Men may talk to 'em of such things, but they have more Wit to believe 'em; 'tis for Men of broken and desperate Fortunes, that have nothing to do in this World, to bid up for the next; why, an unthinking Canon-bullet may come, and strike our young Hero over the face, and then farewell 1500 a-year.  Fair. 
And yet our Fathers, Bellfont, who knew the worth of Life as well as we, in foreign Fields, choose rather to spend their days, than sleep in lazy Peace at home, when the English Valour singly could oppose the growing Greatness of our haughty Neighbours, and make 'em bend beneath our stronger Virtue.  Bell. 
Ay, ay, there have been those days, when a scar or two were thought as necessary to complete a Man's Physiogmony, as a beard; but that was before patches came in fashion. Our Fathers were rude, ill-bred fellows, Ned, of Souls as ill-fashion'd as their clothes, that knew not how to put a right value upon Life, because not sweeten'd with those softer Pleasures, which we their famous Off-spring, the bold Adventures of this happier Age, dared first discover.  Fair. 
Pleasures indeed; but, O how much they've cost us! Our famed and Virtue given in exchange, may make us curse the Purchase; but hang 'em, let's leave 'em to their own Folly and Repentance: And, prithee, tell me, Bellfont, I hope some Men of Sense are still to be found; for if the Town is composed of such as these, I had best back to Flanders again; 'twill be more troublesone to me, than Winter-Quarters in an Enemy's Country.  Bell. 
No, Faith, never think of Flanders, so long as there is good Wine, good Friends, and handsome Whores to be had; for as for the honest Women, as our Friend Willmot saith, they are not worth our thoughts.  Enter Willmot. Will. 
For shane, Harry, what, talk of Whores so early in the morning? See if Fairly doth not blushy at it. Hark you, Ned, if you wear those looks always, you'll never rise to any higher service with the Women, than holding their Fans, or, perhaps, buckling their Shoes upon occasion. Throw aside that stiff Spanish Gravity, and appear like thyself, brisk, gay, and witty, as Nature has designed thee, and do not wrong thy Youth thus.  Fair. 
All in good time, Frank, all in good time; two or three more of thy loose wanton humour would turn the World upside down.  Will. 
With all my heart, I long to see th'other side of it, this is so crowded with Knaves and Fools, that there is hardly any room left for Men of Sense to stir in.  Fair. 
I find, indeed, Frank, my Landlady has drawn thee to the Life, in her Character she hath given me of thee.  Will 
Damn her, old Jezebell, she has been corrupting her niece with some of her grave Instructions too, she'd never be so reserved else; I have ever-minded it, those envious old Devils, who are damned by Age to an insensibility of Pleasure themselves, are always for disappointing it in others. But—  Enter Landlady. Land. 
But what, Mr. Willmot? I have heard you, your wicked devices will fall upon your own head.  Will. 
Dear Landlady, how does thy leathern face this morning? Let me kiss thee.  Land. 
Stand off, you rude Man, I wonder you are not ashamed to appear in my house; as I am honest, Gentlemen, he is even a Termagent, my Maids tremble at the very sight of him; if he comes within twenty yards of the house, they are unfit for business three hours after. Stand off, I say; if he goes on at this rate, my own Person won't be secure; but, Sir, have a care, there is Law to be had against Ravishers.  Will. 
Alas, alas! five and fifty will secure thy Person, old Eve, better than all the Laws in the Land; but if thou wouldst beget a good Understanding betwixt me and thy pretty niece, I should not care much if I held up my hand in all the Courts in England.  Land. 
Out, you Beast! would you have me turn Bawd at last?  Will. 
Why not, you old Fool? Thou art good for nothing else. I can't imagine why they, who are thrust off the Stage of Pleasure themselves, should not be assisting to those that are upon it, and so promote the good Work, tho' they can't be Actors in it.  Land. 
You hear him, Gentlemen; but 'tis no matter, ease and plenty have made him wanton, he'll be of another mind one day. There, Sir,[ To Willmot] there's a Letter for you, I undertook to deliver it, though you do not deserve so much from me.  Will. 
Why, did not I tell you, Gentlemen, she'd make an excellent Bawd, she's Mistress of one branch of the Faculty already: Look here, she has a good hand at Conveyances. Here, old sibyl, red it thyself.  Land. 
I will so, if I have my eyes about me. Let me see, How's this!  
Dear Mr. Willmot,  
MY Husband has been abroad these two days, and will not return till Saturday; if you have half the Love you pretend, you will not neglect so favourable an Opportunity: The Bearer may prove a necessary Instrument, and will deserve Encouragement,  
Yours, &c.  Will. 
Which thou shalt most assuredly have, my dear Embassadress. Well, what Gratuity, ha! a new Gown, Scarf, or a svit of Linen? Come, prithee tell me which wouldst thou have? Or now I think of it, a new set of Teeth would do better than any thing.  Land. 
Stand off, Sir, and don't provoke me, I'd have you to know I 'm a Gentlewoman; my Husband, God bless him, if he had lived, might have been an Alderman e'er now, and I to do this. No, Sir, I received it of the Instrument, as you call him, this morning; he thought you had still lodged here; but you shall receive the next yourself for me; and as for your Pimp, if I catch him again, I'll take order that my Maids shall give him the Encouragement he deserves; a young Rogue, that has scarce wiped his Mother's Milk off his Chaps, and he to turn the Devil's Solicitor! Lord! Lord! what will this World come to!  Will. 
No more Reflections, good Beldame; but lay your hand upon your heart, and tell me, if your business was never managed by such a Lawyer; remember my Lord Goodland's page., that was to cry, Hem! if any one appeared: Come, come, these Gentlemen shall know all.  Land. 
I defy thee, and all thy Malice, thou wicked Slanderer, though by day and night I'll be even with you, or I'll be the Table-talk of the whole Town.  Will. 
Nay, don't be angry, good Landlady, but let us come to the business; prithee document thy niece a little better, she is young and giddy I confess, but must needs harken to thee, both as thou art an old Woman, and her Aunt; if thou wilt but bring the business about, thou know'st my meaning—  Land. 
No, no, good Devil, keep off, I shall sacrifice none of my Flesh and Blood to you.  Will. 
None of thine! I want it not; 'tis for Flavia I pine, and languish; and if thou hast no Compassion on me, I shall die out-right.  Land. 
Why, Faith, the sooner the better; for I know no remedy.  Will. 
Well then, since thou art so inexorable, I proclaim open War against thee; thou shalt not have a Monkey left to play with adays, or a Lap-dog to sport with a-nights; not an old Beaux to hand thee to Church, or bow to thee in the Play-house; I'll watch thee as narrowly as thy old Husband ever did; if any one offers thee the least Civility, I'll challenge him; and if he dares refuse the Combat, post him up for a Coward; till by degrees I have so exercised thee, that thou fallest sick of the yellow Jaundice, and at last diest in Bedlam: What sayst thou, wilt thou compound yet?  Land, 
No, I'll the first; but, to be even with you, may the hot desires of boiling Youth, and the impotence of old Age, be your continual Plagues; may all your Mistresses be kind, but want the blessings of Opportunity to yield themselves up to you; may some unexpected Accident still across your Expectations at the very point of Enjoyment; may all your Wishes be as eager, as your Endeavours vain; and, to alloy the Fires your amorous hopes have kindled, may you fly to some old Weatherbeaten Sinner, that may corrupt your Body, and blast your Reputation; may you in the height of Youth drop into the Diseases of old Age, and at last die in an Hospital, and so farewell; for I will have my Revenge.  Exit. Belf. 
Ha, ha, ha, ha; Faith, Willmot, I believe it is the wisest way to be reconciled; for whatever you think of Flavia, should she spoil your Designs upon Clarinda, I believe a little from that side would sensibly touch you.  Will. 
No, no, Clarinda has more Wit than to harken to her, besides my pretences to her have nothing but Honour in 'em, could I persuade that young gipsy to believe me.  Fair. 
Very honourable indeed, when in the height of your Courtship you are upon a double Scent: True Love is like real Friendship, it can admit but of one Object; for otherwise it loses its name, and becomes mere Flattery and Ostentation.  Will. 
Nay, hold there, Ned, I grant you a Man can take but one, for better for worse; but where there is a full stock of Love, others surely may put in for the overflowings: Tis true, none but the elder Son show d lay lay claim to the Inheritance, and yet the younger may reasonably expect some, by Gifts and Legacies.  Bell. 
And you, I fear, are for disposing of so many, that your main Estate will be scarce responsible.  Will. 
Then I'll call in my Friends to my assistance; but of this we'll discourse more over a Glass of Wine at my Lord Goodland's, and the two young Ladies shall judge of our performances. What think you, Fairly? Will you submit yourself to Marina's judgement?  Fair. 
Yes, if I could but hope she thought as favourably of me, as I do of her; but I hear our English Ladies have thrown off that freedom and openness of humour they have been so celebrated for, and are become too nice and reserved, even to affectation.  Bell. 
And yet that reservedness you seem to condemn in our Ladies, it is no more than necessary. We begin to use more severity towards them than the very Spaniard; he by his restraint secures 'em from the worst of Vices, we expose and servent the very best of their virtues; nay, the noblest of the whole Sex have been sometimes stigmatized in a Lampoon for that very Action which deserved a panegyric.  Fair. 
I thought those Lampooners Province lay on the other side; does the whole Town afford 'em such thin Diet, that they are forced to prey upon virtue to satisfy their ravenous Appetite?  Bell. 
O damn 'em for ill-bred Curs, that love to leave the lawful Scent, and fall soul on forbidden Game; sullen mischievous Beasts, that have nothing of Satyrs in 'em, but the deformity, that by a strange Art of chemistry, can change the purest of Gold into the basest of Metals, and draw the rankest Poisons out of the wholesomest Herbs.  Will. 
Why, as ill a Character as you have given of these People, Bellfont, Sir Arthur within thinks it no diminution to his Honour to be reckoned in the number.  Bell. 
Nay, I must confess he has ill Nature enough to entitle him to it.  Will. 
And as he thinks, Wit.  Bell. 
A little will qualify him.  Fair. 
You two are always quarreling I find, Willmot  Will. 
O, he must be kept at some distance, or he'd grow too saucy and familiar.  Fair. 
Certainly never had one Man such a variety of Humours, so directly opposite to one another; they say he is Master of a great Estate, and yet he has seldom a penny in his Pocket; a great Lover of Women's Company, and yet so slovenly, that he is sometimes scarce to be endured in Men's; this hour so obliging and complaisant, that you would take him for a mere Courtier; the next, so rough and intractable, that there is no dealing with him; and though he pretends to an open intercourse and familiarity with many of the Nobility, yet doth his Acquaintance lie no less amongst the very Scoundrels of the Town.  Will. 
And I believe him equally ridiculous to both; these make choice of him for their Prey, and th'other for their Mirth: He is a Glove for both hands.  Bell. 
And yet handsome on neither; a Fool that will be frequently thrusting himself into good Company, tho' he is sure to spoil it; next to his Uncle Sir Simon, I believe him the most extraordinary Person this Town can afford.  Will. 
That is indeed a Master-piece, an idiot that is mightily affronted he is not raised up to the Nobility; nay, so extravagantly vain and supercilious, that he thinks it infinitely beneath his Quality so much as to look upon any one under the Title of Lord.  Bell. 
Very fond of his Wife I hear.  Fair. 
And withal very jealous.  Bell. 
You know best with what Reason, Willmot; for I hear whatever Opinion he may have of a Plebeian, she hath no very mean one of you.  Will. 
Why, truly she is so prudent, as not to esteem Men according to the airy trifles of Fortune, but the more substantial gifts of Nature.  Bell. 
And to show her judgement, has fixed on your Person as the Object of her Favour.  Will. 
I must confess we have frequently spent some hours together, and, I believe, to both our satisfactions.  Bell. 
Nay, to your credit be it spoken, I hear she has almost quenched that thirst after variety, that wandring inconstant humour, you have been hitherto so famous for. Prithee, what has she about her entertains thee so long?  Will. 
Why, I esteem her much for the same reason some People love a Cat or Monkey, because they are mischievous: She has a sort of ill-natured Wit in her, that you will be forced to admire, tho' you are sure to suffer under it: She has learned her Master Ovid's Lesson most exactly; for she'll always sharpen the Appetite by some unlucky contrivance or other, that shall be sure to bawk your Expectation for the present, and sand you back more eager in your Wishes than you came; so that by that time she is pleased to give her self into your Arms, you come fired with double Vigour, and shall find new Charms that are more engaging, because seemingly reaped in danger.  Fair. 
A politic Quality enough in a Mistress: She knows thy tambling Humour, and therefore uses thee accordingly. But I wonder we hear nothing of Sir Arthur this Morning: He uses to be calling for his Chocolate ere this.  Bell. 
Perhaps he hears that Willmot is with thee; and therefore cares not to appear. What was the ground of your Quarrel last Night, Frank? I found you mighty high.  Will. 
The Fool would needs pretend to have been something too familiar with a Lady of my Acquaintance I met with in the Play-house, and give the Company an account of the Time when and where; when, to my own Knowledge, she has scarce been in London four Days; and I am sure never saw it before in her life.  Fair. 
What wont such vain Fops affirm! But, hold; I believe I hear him coming. Prithee, Frank, do thou withdraw a little; for I fear he'll not come in, if he sees thee here.  Will. 
I will so. But try to bring in the Subject of our Quarrel in your Discourse, if you can: We shall hear if he is in the same Humour now, he was in last Night.  Sir Arthur within.] 
Landlady, good-morrow: Is Ned Fairly within?  Landlady within.] 
Yes, Sir Arthur; he's in the Dining-Room.  Enter Sir Arthur. Fair. 
Here he comes: Fox, to the Hole. Sir Arthur, good-morrow: I thought a Man addicted to Study like yourself, could not have lain, with patience, so long in Bed.  Sir Arth. 
Why faith, Ned, the Fumes of last nights Wine have raised fogs in my Brain this Morning. But where do you dine to day?  Fair. 
Where I hope we shall have your good Company: It is my Lord Goodland's Birth-day, which I hear he celebrates most Nobly: You are invited, Sir Arthur, amongst the rest.  Sir Arth. 
Faith I'm sorry I can't be there; I made a Promise to a Lady, that was mighty importunate with me last night, to bring two or three of my new Songs, and dine with her to day: But I may come and take a Glass after Dinner.  Fair. 
You'll oblige the Company, Sir Arthur. But what, may I be so bold as to ask who this Lady is? The same, I sansie, Willmot was so uncivil as to quarrel with you about last night.  Sir Arth. 
The very same, Ned: But was there ever such an unmannerly Puppy, to tell me to my Face the Lady was a Stranger to me, when I'm sure we have been familiarly acquainted these twelve Months!  Bell. 
And yet he positively affirms she never saw London till within these four Days.  Sir Arth. 
Wilmot is a Rascal, and they are all Fools that harken to him: Had I thought he would have answered me, I had challenged him; but I know him a Coward, and think him beneath my Anger.  Fair. 
Have a care, Sir, he's a Man of Honour, and they say, when provoked, has a sharp Sword.  Sir Arth. 
Honour, Sir! What mean you? Not so much as Sir Arthur Stately, I hope: And as for a Sword, mine's as good a Blade as his can be.  Bell. 
I doubt it not; and in as good Hands, that can manage it as cleanly.  Sir Arth. 
Clean, Sir? I confess I have not washed 'em to day: But what's that to you? Had you nothing else to observe? I hate those Men that still expose the Failings of their Friends, but bury their virtues in silence.  Bell. 
Ha, ha, ha! Do you take me for your Nurse, Sir Arthur, to mind whether your Face is clean every morning? tho', I confess, you would do well to keep a Valet for the purpose.  Fair. 
Come, come, no more of that, Harry; when Sir Arthur has time to consider, he'll be of your Mind; till then, we'll leave him to the pursuit of his Pleasures, and with him success amongst the Ladies.  Bell. 
Success! he deserves it not; and 'tis impossible he should obtain it: She that can grant him a Court'sie, will hardly deny one to the Devil. Were I a Woman, I should take a Black-moor for an Angel to him.  Sir Arth. 
Malice, by Hell! mere Malice, and Repining at my good Parts! And yet know, Sir, there are Ladies in Town bright as the Day, and sweeter than the Morning, that dare be familiar with my Person, in a better Place than I shall name at present, whilst you are consuming your Wits in a dull saddening Ditty, Sir, below, and tuning it to your lamentable squeaking Cats-guts: And so I leave you; for know, I scorn you more than you envy me.  Will. 
re-entering.] Hold, good Sir Arthur; pray hear me a Word first before you go.  Sir Arth. 
The Devil! Willmot here! Nay then— But hang him, they dare not in Honour let him draw upon me; besides, my Uncle may be called upon occasion ( Aside.) Well, Sir, what have you to say?  Will. 
You are designed for the Lady this Morning, I hear?  Sir Arth. 
A plague take him: Upon that String still! And what then, Sir?  Will. 
My Love, Sir, that's all; and withal tell her from me, Since Nature worked so very violenty in her, as to force her to sacrifice her Honour to her Inclinations, she could not have picked out a fitter Person than the Worthy Sir Arthur Stately.  Sir Arth. 
O Sir, your Servant. What means he?  Will. 
The mirror of Knighthood! All this while Sir Arthur is endeavouring to get from 'em, but they detain him.  Bell. 
And Top-Gallant of Generosity!  Fair. 
That Pyramid of Learning!  Bell. 
And Monster of Good-nature!  Will. 
The Glory of the Young!  Fair. 
And Envy of the Old!  Will. 
Nay, by your leave, Sir, your Modesty must be patient a little: I can never do too much to wipe off the Injury I did you last Night.  Sir Arth. 
None at all, Sir, I vow to Gad: 'Pray', Sir, excuse me.  Will. 
You shall have Justice. First, for his outside, that complete shape.  Bell. 
And sprightly Air.  Fair. 
That rising Nose.  Will. 
And radiant Eyes.  Bell. 
That graceful Front.  Fair. 
And ruddy Cheeks.  Will. 
Those Milk-white Teeth—  Bell. 
And pouting Lips.  Fair. 
Ha, ha, ha.  Sir Arth. 
Hold Sir, I've a Sword.  Will. 
Lock it up, you'll lose it else.  Sir Arth. 
And shall—  Will. 
Pick your Teeth with it?  Sir Arth. 
Run you through the Guts.  Will. 
Dare you use it?  Sir Arth. 
would I durst.  Omnes. 
Ha, ha, ha.  Will. 
Dost thou hear me, thou vain Fop, thou Lover in imagination only; hadst thou no body else to abuse, no Sempstress's Daughter, or Suburb-Mistress, no Merchant's Wife, or Captain's Sinner, People that have no Reputation, and yet want none; but your rude Tongue must play with the fair Honour of one unknown: A Lady too, by Heaven, whose Maiden-thoughts, did they once start aside, warmed by Desire and youthful Blood, on sight of such a filthy lump of Lewdness, would recoil back, and cool again to virtue.  Fair. 
Hold, Willmot, now you are too unconscionable; the Knight is sensible of it already: What should he do with a Mistress, writ Anagrams upon her Name, or Posies for a Ring? He dares appear no where abroad with her; not at the Play-house, for there the Orange-wenches would ridicule him; nor at Church, where the Dogs would bark at him; besides, he can't tell how to writ a Billet-deux genteely, unless it be in rhyme: And you know, Sir Arthur, 'tis ten to one, but she'd pin that at your back again the next time you came to visit her.  Sir Arth. 
Well, Gentlemen, I know my own Worth; and all you can say, shall never lessen my good Opinion of myself; and so I leave you: May Pride and ill Nature be your daily Companions. Exit. Roger.  Will. 
Your Servant, Sir, ha, ha, ha: A pleasant Scene, this.  Enter Servant. Roger. 
Your Worship's Pleasure?  Will. 
Thou hast dogged many a Woman upon occasion, and that very cunningly: Follow me now Sir Arthur; house him, and learn his business there, if possible; nay, make hast, thou'lt loose him else.  Roger. 
I fly to serve you, Sir. Exit.  Will. 
Now if the Rogue succeeds, and no doubt but he will, shall we know what Women these are, that have such an honourable esteem for his Person; some dirty Landress or other, my Life on't.  Fair. 
I confess it will be worth our discovery: 'twill be a mortification both to him and Sir Simon, who would utterly discard him, should he know he touched the Lip of any thing that was not honourable.  Bell. 
May the Event answer our Expectations: But prithee what Lady is this, whose Honour thou hast so zealously defended?  Will. 
Why, i'faith, one that may have no more than Sir Arthur would allow her, for ought I know: She has Wit and Beauty enough for a Whore; and if her Honesty can't keep place with both, she may be what he fancied her; but as yet I have better thoughts of her. In short, it was Clarinda.  Bell. 
The Devil' twas!  Will. 
The very same, Man.  Fair. 
'tis strange he did not know her, being so near a Neighbour!  Will. 
Not so, considering she came but last Friday, and has been scarce twice abroad e'er since.  Fair. 
I fancy, Frank, this piece of Generosity, did she hear of it, must needs do more with her than a whole Year spent in formal Courtship.  Will. 
Hear of it! Not for the World: 'twill make her proud and careless of her own Honour, when she thinks she has got a Champion to maintain it; besides, I shall be laughed at for a mere Knight-errant, and the Avenger of distressed Damosels. No, I had rather be her Ladyship's Pimp, than Hector; therefore no Words of it if you love me: But how Sir Arthur will carry't off when he sees her, will be worth our Observation.  Fair. 
Like one who has his Sins set full before him.  Bell. 
I warrant it worth all our other Mirth; but, come, 'tis time we were there.  Will. 
Allons, Fairly. Now for Marina.  Bell. 
Did you never speak to her yet?  Fair. 
Not since my return from travail: 'tis true, before I went, we grew up into an innocent Familiarity, grounded upon the Friendship of our Parents; nay, sometimes her un-experience would let fall something, my eager hopes did then interpret the Signs of Love: But she was young, and, as my Fears now tell me, scarce knew the Name.  Will. 
I warrant thee, Man, Girls of Fourteen know as much as their Mothers; and, at Fifteen, are of as ripe Experience.  Fair. 
Well, Fortune be my Friend.  Will. 
Be thy own, Ned; and then a Fig for fortune.  Fairly, Belfont go out; and as Willmot follows, he sees Flavia, who appears at the other side of the Stage. Flav. 
Good Lord! I have been crossing myself, and devoutly saying my prayers this Morning, for fear of the Devil, and the very first thing I meet proves to be him. Well, I'll pray no more, if these be their effects.  Will. 
No, Child, you know Prayers without Charity are always inffectual; and till thou hast some for me, thine must necessary prove so.  Flav. 
Why, Good Sir, wherein do you stand in need of it? You are sound and firm in body, as I take it.  Will. 
Yes, i'faith, and in good health; try me else.  Flav. 
Softly, softly, Sir, and I believe in want of nothing. You wear good clothes, and, I dare say, feed well: Your Face speaks as much.  Will. 
Dost thou like it then?  Flav. 
Yes, as I would a well-drawn Picture; that feeds the sight with Pleasure afar off; but approach near it, and its Beauty's lost.  Will. 
The Devil thou dost: A pretty Comparison,' Faith. Dost thou take me for a piece of Arras; a thing in a Frame, set to adorn your Ladyship's Closet; the silent Witness of your secret lewdness?  Flav. 
No hold there, Sir, I've scarce so good an Opinion of you; so far from thinking you would conceal what you see, that I believe you would tell more than you know.  Will. 
So far from that, Sweet-heart, that let a Lady be kind to me overnight, and i'faith, I forget it quiter next Morning; nay, I scarce think of her, or her business, ever after.  Flav. 
A fine Commendation this, and a great Encouragement. 'Pray' Sir, forget me then; nay, Sir, keep farther off, or I shall call my Aunt.  Will. 
I had rather thou shouldst call the Devil; he'd be less trouble, and sooner learn his Duty. Well, what sayst thou? By those wanton Eyes, and trembling Lips, those glowing Cheeks, by all thy soft Desires, say shall I not? My Love, my Angel! how canst thou be thus cruel?  Flav. 
This Afternoon—  Will. 
Speak where, and make me happy.  Flav. 
In my Lord Goodland's Grove, adjoining to my Aunt's Garden.  Will. 
'twas made on purpose: At Four then I'll expect you.  Flav. 
Three if you love me.  Will. 
By this Kiss I do: Ten thousand Sweets are lodged in't.  Flav. 
Well, you'll forget now.  Will. 
I shall be damned then.  Flav. 
Till then—  Will. 
Farewell: All my best Hopes wait on you. Exit Flavia.  
Women were born to be subdued: In vain  
They strive t'oppose the nobler Creature Man:  
Their own Desires at length will make 'em yield,  
And first or last they all must quit the Field.    

ACT. II.  

SCENE I. Scene, Lady, Goodland's House.  Enter Marina and Clarinda. Mar. 
WEll, well, Cousin, I say still, London for my Money: If my Mother catches me in the Country again in hast, may I look as old as she does; or what is worse, mary the Fool her Wisdom, has picked out for me, and be kept there all the days of my life.  Mar. 
mary, I suppose you design nothing else; 'tis her Will, and she must be obeyed.  Clar. 
Why, i'faith, that's even as I please to order it: I grant you, were there a scarcity of Men, and consequently a danger of my dying a Maid, I might upon reasonable Terms be brought to submit; but as long as there is such a variety, Lawyers with great Estates, and Courtiers with none at all; elder Brothers with heavy Heads, and younger with light Purses; Citizens, Soldiers, Players, and Poets: If he ever gets me between a pair of Sheets, I'll be damned to sowre-Milk, and Whey-butter, as long as I live.  Mar. 
You're not in earnest sure?  Clar. 
By my Virginity, but I am.  Mar. 
Now, in my Eyes, the Country is not so disagreeable, unless an easy retired Life, removed from the Clamours and Vices of the Town, may be reckoned as such.  Clar. 
Nay, hold you there, good Cousin, the Country has its Noises too, tho', perhaps, not so loud and frequent; yet I'm sure far more odious. What think you of a Consort of Hounds for a Serenade every Morning, that raises your good Spouse by Four-a-Clock, who leaves you to nothing but the vain Wishes of a better Bed-fellow: It may be you drop a-sleep again, and dream of one; but scarce has your Imagination shaped him to Desires, before a a Flock of well disposed goose frightens your fancied Lover from your Arms, and secures your Body, that Temple of Chastity, from Pollution; so that you have not the opportunity of cuckolding him, tho' it be only in a Dream.  Mar. 
Nor had I one, would I desire it; so much should I be his; so truly the Servant of his Pleasures, that I'd esteem each guilty thought a Rebel that dared to wander from him.  Clar. 
True, but it must be one that I could love, and that knew how to deserve me; not your dull Country Ass, that makes no difference betwixt his Wife and Horse; who tho' he has Tongue as big as one of his Calves, can entertain me in Discourse with nothing, but the price of Corn and Hay, or rotten Sheep and lousy Hogs; that confines me to an old House, the ill contrived labour of some of his Ancestors, who came over forsooth with William the Conqueror: my Company, an old Aunt, or ill-favoured Sister; or perhaps the person after Dinner, who is to tell me the meaning of his last Sermon, and sometime a piece of News six months old, picked out of the moldy Papers he lights his Pipes with. No, no, my Father, Peace rest with him, left me moderately rich; and, or I am flattered, I have my share of Beauty; if then any thing above a Justices Clerk, dare be troubled with me here, when I go back again to Warwick-shire, to spend my Time and Money in Pultisses for sore Throats, plasters for Scabby Heads, and broken Shins, the Devil shall be wiser than I take him.  Mar. 
Well, you are learned, Cousin; but let us wave this Discourse till Willmot comes; he shall bear a part in it: I fancy by that guilty blushy, you can set down satisfied with him and all his faults.  Clar. 
If he has no more, than I yet perceive, he will not find me very intractable; but I must know him better first.  Mar. 
I dare swear he loves you hearty.  Clar. 
If he may be believed himself, he does indeed; for he had the impudence to tell me so the very first time he saw me; tho' I fancy there are many other Ladies in Town, can say as much of him: he is one of those that falls in Love with every new Face they meet.  Mar. 
He has indeed had the Name of a great Libertine; but you know Wedlock is a Mortifying State, and they say a great cooler of the Blood.  Clar. 
But I'll mortify him before, or my Wits shall fail me; for when once I give my Hand, I resign all my Power: Marriage in many respects is like Death, you may make what conditions you please before the Ceremony; but as the person finds you, he leaves you, there's no Reprieve to be had.  Mar. 
If it's so dangerous, I think them the wisest that keep farthest from it.  Clar. 
For the same reason therefore. you should abstain from those Meats that please the palate most, for fear of a Surfet, or what is worse, poisons that may be lodged in 'em: no, no Marina, Flesh and Blood sometime or other will be craving, and must be satisfied, otherwise we do a violence to Nature, who tells us that we are imperfect pieces, like tender Plants exposed to th' fury, and the rude blasts of bold malicious Tongues, till our blessed Fortunes have at length removed us into the Arms of kind, and loving Husbands; there we shoot up, and like the tender Vine, warmed in the Embraces of the faithful Elm, we join our Loves and sweetly grow together; and when at length we die, we leave behind us a Memory that shall perfume our Ashes.  Enter Betty. Betty. 
Madam, here's Mr. Willmot come in, and I believe has been hunting after you, for he has run his Nose into every corner of the House.  Clar. 
O let him hunt on, 'twill get him a Stomach to his Dinner.  Mar. 
Are any with him?  Betty. 
Yes Madam, Mr. Fairly and Mr. Bellfont.  Mar. 
Fairly?  Clar. 
Yes, Cousin, Fairly, does it startle you? What think you of him for an Husband?  Mar. 
As of all others; but why that Question?  Clar. 
Because famed speaks him an accomplished Gentleman.  Mar. 
She is seldom in the right, Cousin.  Clar. 
I must confess I have seen him; and to my thinking, his Person promises nothing extraordinary; his Conversation too, they say is no way grateful.  Mar. 
To Wanton Womens Ears perhaps it is not, he knows not how to entertain 'em with a Discourse of this or that Lady, wantonly caught with such a Lord, or reckon up all the new Faces that appear at Court, who 'twas that sqeak'd last night behind the Lobby; what such an one had for her Maidenhead, and how oft she had sold it, things that please none but Fools that live on Scandal; but to all Modest Ears, his words are sweet as the blessed Raptures of departing Saints, whose eager Souls are going to possess the long expected Crown of all their Virtues.  Clar. 
Ha, ha, Marina, have I caught you? I should take you to be one of those Saints by your Rapture, but I believe yours has more of the Flesh than Spirit in it.  Mar. 
What mean you, Cousin?  Clar. 
What mean you to play the Hypocrite thus? come, come, I guessed as much before, and what I said was only to try you, tho' I confess, I did not think you'd wince so very soon.  Mar. 
Well, since you have Entrapp'd me, I do love him, equal to Life, and my best hopes of Heaven; more than the soldier Honour, or the Miser his secret Treasure; more than a new-made Mother, the first dear Pledge of all her Fruitful Joys.  Clar. 
A pat Confession truly, great pitty 'tis he was not Witness to't.  Mar. 
No, when I stoop so low, and vilely sue him to take me to his Arms, may I grow loathed as Whores and Drunkards; whatever Fortune has designed me, I'll still retain that modest Virgin-Pride, which adds new Charms to Beauty, and makes our Youth more lovely.  Betty. 
Madam, my Lord.  Enter Lord Goodland, Fairly, and Willmot. Ld. Good. 
Here, where are you? Thinking of Husbands, my life on't; first how to get, and then cuckolded' em. Here, Mr. Fairly, here's an old Friend of yours, that's grown a strapper since you left England; ay, there to 'em, so well said.  Fair. 
She's grown indeed, but like a blushing Rose, whose opening Bud promised a World of Beauty; but being full blown, exceeds our Expectations.  Ld. Good. 
That's well said again, adod, you are a mere Courtier, I would not be a young Girl in your way for something. See if she does not blushy; a mere puling Wench, she'll ne're have so much Fire in her as her Mother had.  Clar. 
Yes my Lord, a Youthful Lovers Arms, brisk as I 'm  told your Lordship was in your younger days, will quickly warm her.  Ld. Good. 
So, my mad niece still, and I faith thou art in the right; but a Pies on't, none but Fools and Mad-men will have any thing to say to you upon that score now, your own Pride and Self-conceit has quiter spoiled your Market; a Lover is but a more Genteel Name for an Ass; for twenty pound to a Fidle-string, but you make him such before you have done.  Clar. 
Do you hear that, Sir, know what you was born to, and tremble.  Willm. 
Yes my little Circe, I do so; thou shalt make me what Beast thy fancy likes best, so thou wilt make me thine: I'll bed thee under all the shapes in Aesop, and beget a new Race of Monsters to People the Land of the Moon, and thou and I will Reign King and Queen there.  Clar. 
No Sir, such odd ways of Courtship have been out of fashion ever since the old Heathen Poets fell asleep; I'd rather have a cobbler for my Bed-fellow, than a Swan, or satire: your Worship may be a Bull, if you please, a day times; but at night you must be a Man, or I shall fix a pair of Horns on your Head that will be very uneasy.  Willm. 
Well, no Man knows what he may be before he dies; but if I do wear Horns—  Clar. 
Ill hang my Maid's Petticoats upon' em.  Willm. 
That may chance to raise an Itch in me, will be very troublesome.  Clar. 
O no Sir, if you are of so quick a Scent, to prevent all mischief, we'll muzzle you.  Mar. 
( Aside) How eagerly he views me! Surely he would look through me; which if he can, he'll find an Heart within tied to his Love, and triumph in my weakness.  Ld. Good. 
Well, but Mr. Fairly, old Men love to inquire, and you Travellers often love to relate the Stories of your Travels, or shall we suspend our Curiosity till after Dinner, 'twill then serve instead of music, and crown our lusty Glasses.  Fair. 
My Lord, neither my Adventures, or Observations, were so curious, as necessary; I travelled not to fill my Mouth, but enrich my Understanding; and took more care to know myself exactly, than the Countries I passed through.  Mar. 
Did you meet with no Rarities abroad, Sir?  Fair. 
None exceeding those I've seen at home, Madam.  Mar. 
They say the Italian Ladies are Fair to a Miracle.  Fair. 
They are indeed; but yet they must give the English leave to led the way: I must confess I saw at Venice a perfect Beauty, as such esteemed, to whom the Nobles sued, and at whose Feet the soldier, in the full pride of all his Glorious Conquests, laid down his useless Arms, unable to defend him against the force of her Commanding Beauty: the Wealthy Merchant too acknowledged he had found a Jewel here at home, worth all his Indies; and the Scholar invoked no other Goddess in his Verse, whose tuneful Notes sung nothing but her Praises.  Mar. 
What have I heard? O I am lost for ever! ( Aside.)  Clar. 
I suppose Sir, after the Description you have given, to ask if you was smitten amongst the rest, would be to question if you are a Man or no.  Fair. 
No, Madam, I could safely look upon her, and view her in all her Glories; my Heart was gone before, the happy Subject of a far Nobler Conquest; nor would I seek a Mistress out in Italy, who had left behind me here in England, a Miracle worth all their boasted Saints; a Piece so Fair, so full of Goodness, that the bold Poets daring Fancy could never form a sweeter.  Clar. 
There's for you Mr. Willmot, when will you speak such a Speech in Praise of your Mistress?  Willm. 
O Madam, I'm yet but a beginner, in time you may have me come to this and a great deal more, make Songs upon you shortly; nay, perhaps a Play or two, where you may expect to find yourself an Empress at least.  Clar. 
You can promise well I know; but you Men in matters of Love, are like humoursome Children, who cry for this or that Gewgaw for the present, but are scarce acquainted with it, before 'tis discarded, and then your Fancies are wholly bent on something else: don't I know you have the Name of the greatest Wanton in Town; don't all the World talk loudly of your Virtues?  Willm. 
Why, faith, Madam, I confess some People have been too busy with my Reputation; but you know they who dare believe what the World says, dare be mad; 'tis never in the right.  Clar. 
Well then, to disprove it, do but satisfy me, you can keep honest for one whole week together; I mean, so far as to conceal your Wanderings; do but be private in your sins, and I'll believe you.  Willm. 
A week, Madam, ay, if there were as many days in it as there are in a whole year.  Clar. 
But if I find you false—  Willm. 
Let all the Sehool-boys in Town piss upon me.  Ld. Good. 
A desperate undertaking, Mr. Willmot; she'll have a close Eye upon you.  Willm. 
I dare her worst my Lord; phoo, I can live without eating so long as that upon occasion, and the Devil's in't, if I can't do t'other thing as well.  Clar. 
Both alike I believe.  Willm. 
The event will convince you.  Enter Bellfond. Ld. Good. 
Mr. Bellfont, welcome; we want Sir Simon yet  Belf. 
No, my Lord, he is below with several other Gentlemen, that are come to pay their respects to your Lordship's Birth-day.  Ld. Good. 
The more the merrier, come Gallants let to Dinner; I'll there show you, what 'tis has made me count so many years, and teach you to live till you are all as old as I am.  Omnes. 
We wait upon your Lordship. Exeunt omnes, praeter Marina.  Mar. 
What's this I feel thus rising in my Breast? Have I room there for any thing but Love? From whence then this new Guest? Is't jealousy? jealous of whom? And why must I repined at his just Praises of anothers Beauty, since 'tis a Debt that's due to her deservings? But then he loves her, and is again beloved; and all my Virgin-hopes must lie forever buried in despair.  Enter Fairly. 
But see he's return'd; does then his Love, like mine, drive him to Solitudes? O tho' I esteem his presence dearer than these two Eyes with which I view him, yet I'll withdraw and hid my shane; for surely let me do what I can, my Tongue will prove a Traitor.  Fair. 
Peace to your Meditations, Madam; they must certainly be extraordinary that could entertain you thus alone.  Mar. 
Indeed, Sir, they were very melancholy; for I was thinking of an unhappy Maid deceived in her first Love.  Fair. 
Unhappy indeed; for no disappointments are so heavy as those of Lovers: But who was he that could deceive her?  Mar. 
One whom I may still allow blameless, because ignorant of her Passion; and therefore now Servant to another Lady, who, for ought I know, is preferable to my Friend in nothing but the possession of his Love.  Fair. 
And does she then admit of his Addresses?  Mar. 
There, Sir, indeed, you puzzle me; tho' I must confess he is so deserving, so full of Worth, that to think otherwise, would be to think her most ingrateful: Too true, I fear for my Friend's Quiet, she does esteem him, who's therefore left to all the Miseries of a despairing Lover.  Fair. 
You speak a noble pity of her Sufferings; and I could almost wish myself wretched like her, to be thus pitied by you: What say you, Madam; suppose you should behold me in all the Torments of an hopeless Love, could you let fall one sigh in pity of my Fate?  Mar. 
Believe me, Sir, so much I see in her the Miseries of unhappy Love, tho' you yourself, were him whom I should hate, the Cause of her Misfortunes; yet would I bear more than a Stranger's share in all your Sufferings, and never be wanting in my best Wishes for your Happiness.  Fair. 
I 'm sure without 'em I should never find it: but dare you rise no higher than to unprofitable Wishes for me? Do but look kindly on me, and I'll venture to ask for something more; Love, noble Love, to that I would aspire, if all the Services my Youth can pay are able to deserve it; nay, do not frown, nor turn in anger from me: Indeed 'tis just you should; for what have I can make me hope to merit such a Treasure? And yet Ambition never was thought a Crime in Love: Why was you made thus excellently fair, if Men must not admire you? A Paradise, where all the Sweets of Nature forever flourish, and each ravished Sense sits at an everlasting Feast; where no rude blasts of Lusts or Pride dare blow, but Innocence and Truth, sweet as the Arabian Winds, protect your Beauties.  Mar. 
aside.] O why must my deceitful Tongue condemn those very words, which to my ravished Ears, strike far more sweet than music?  Fair. 
Had I the Eloquence of all Men in me, or could in softest numbers court the virtues, my busy Tongue should dwell upon your Praises, till time itself stood still, and weary Nature sunk down into Eternity; but as I am, I never must hope to find Words equal to my Thoughts, or fit to bear the Message of my Mind.  Mar. 
Believe me, Sir, this is not noble in you to play thus with my weakness, and wound my Ears with the smooth Flatteries of your cunning Sex; therefore forgive me if I dare hear no more.  Fair. 
O stay one moment; for by just heaven I swear, if heaven that will strike dumb a perjured Tongue, I never did conceive one guilty Thought to wrong your Goodness: could you but look into my Breast, you there would find Fire so chast, so holy, that Hymen's Lamp can never boast a purer: 'tis true, your Love as yet I dare not hope for, till by my Services I have convinced you; yet give me leave to hope I may be happy.  Mar. 
aside.] I should not grant; and yet I can't deny: fantastic Honour, thou Enemy to Love, and fever of the Soul! Happy are they that want thee; whose Wills walk free, not fettered by a Tyrant, that bears a stubborn sway over every Passion. Instruct me Love, and sit upon my Tongue, that I may not deny or give too much. Sir, I must hear no more; your Words already have died my Cheeks with Blushes: In them you'll find an Answer, better than what my Tongue can form. You've leave to hope for all that I dare give, or you can ask: I know I've said too much; but do not tax my Weakness.  Fair. 
No, may your Hatred be equal to my Love, and my Despair exceed 'em both, if the could Hermit, who spends his tedious hours in holy Duties, has purer Thoughts of heaven than I of you: heaven's fairest Model, on this I print my Vows, the Emblem of my Love: O, I could talk forever! Each part about you is such a perfect Beauty, that it gives every thing a Tongue to sing its Praises.  Enter Betty. Betty. 
Madam, Dinner stays for your Ladyship.  Mar. 
It shall not long: Come, Sir, this fancied Love will lose itself in a full Glass or two of sparkling Wine.  Fair. 
No, Madam, never; that can feed on nothing  
But your full Beauties: I'm your happy Guest;  
And Love invites me to the noblest Feast. Exeunt Fair. and Mar. Manet Bet.  Betty. 
So I see, for all my Lady's reservedness, Mr. Fairly will find an easy Conquest: He's a true Soldier, I warrant him; he attacks with vigour and Resolution: I hate those puny Lovers, that make a great Noise and to no purpose; they are all Powder, and no Shot: But who have we here? No new Guest surely.  Enter Alice masked. Al. 
Save you, gentle damsel; do you appertain to this House?  Betty. 
Hey-day! gentle and appertain! Some Beggar surely by her Cant.  Al. 
If you are a retainer to this Family, I must stipulate with you for a small Court'sie.  Bet. 
A gipsy, by my Maidenhead! This is the very Language of the Devil, ( aside.) Thou'lt be burned for a Witch, my Life on't.  Al. 
And thou hanged for a Thief, Betty. She unmasks.  Betty. 
Murrain take you; Is't you! What Deeds of Darkness are you bound for, that you dare not show your Face?  Al. 
Love, Betty; Love, the Soul of the Universe, and the great Business of our Creation. Here, carry this Letter to Willmot, and sand Bellfont out hither. Nay, prithee be as private and quick as thou canst. Exit Betty.  
One would think by her Conduct, my Lady did begin to be cloyed with Mr. Willmot: If she does not give him enough of her before Night, he has the heart of Hercules: But here comes Bellfont. Now to th'other part of my errand. Enter Bellfont.  Bell. 
I find a Debauch over-night, is often a Friend to a good stomach the next day: But to the Lady; if I can guess what business she has with me, the Devil take me.  Al. 
Save you, Sir.  Bell. 
And you too, sweet Mistress, good handsome Shapes. Aside.  Al. 
I 'm come from a Lady—  Bell. 
I 'm very glad of it, if her Face be but answerable. Aside.  Al. 
That's most desperately in Love—  Bell. 
With my sweet Person; and a Tongue like a Cherubim. Aside.  Al. 
You're quick of apprehension, Sir: This Lady's ill Stars have placed her in the hands of a most severe Guardian, that has not a stricter eye over her Fortune than her Person.  Bell. 
And I 'm to be th'adventurous Knight that is to release her: I'm glad of it; I love a Mistress that brings danger with her; it heightens our Imaginations, and makes us fall to in the end with a quicker Appetite.  Al. 
No, Sir: Love, like hers, is able to break through brazen Gates, and adamantine Locks: She has taken the danger of the Adventure upon her self; all your business is to prepare to meet her.  Bell. 
But where, Child? Tell me where, and take this for thy Intelligence.  Al. 
You know the close Arbour, at the lower end of my L. Goodland's Grove?  Bell. 
As well as my own Thoughts. My Imagination's fired at it: We'll fancy it one of Venus's silent Groves, where she has entertained her lusty Soldier: The spreading Oaks shall cover us with their Shades, whose trembling Leaves shall whisper Tales of Love: The yielding Earth, warmed by our close Embraces, shall feast our Senses with new knots of Flowers, which shall in various Colours spring about us, sweet as thy Lady's Breath, and sparkling as her Eyes: Each little bide at every melting Kiss, shall echo it round all the conscious Grove; and when our Souls lie drowned in mutual Pleasures, great Jove himself shall gently smile upon us.  Al. 
'Pray', Sir, preserve your Raptures for a better occasion.  Bell. 
Well admonished: But prithee, my dear Angel, what time will this Goddess appear?  Al. 
At Three, Sir, this Afternoon most exactly; perhaps she may seem a little coy at first, to show she's a true Woman; but, Sir, you must put it home to her; you know she does not come there for nothing.  Bell. 
And, faith, that's well remembered: but no more, I think I hear Company.  Al. 
Be true and secret.  Bell. 
As true as Light, and secret as Darkness. Exit Alice. So, now if I had Willmot's Vow of Chastity upon me, what a fine condition were I in! But hold, here he comes; his Advice will be very necessary at present; for to speak the Truth, I have some scruples upon my Conscience.  Enter Willmot. willmm. 
How now, Harry; What, turned Flincher! How sullen thou look'st! Thou hast not got Fairly's Distemper upon thee, I hope; hast thou?  Bell. 
No, i'faith; and yet my Thoughts are at present upon a Woman.  willmm. 
Woman, Woman! Nothing but dear damned, bewitching Woman! How heavily would our Hours move without' em? The Glass itself would he both dull and needless, did it not raise our Spirits up to Love: But, prithee, what Woman is this?  Bell. 
I don't know.  willmm. 
What's her Name?  Bell. 
Why, i'faith, not that neither.  willmm. 
Where lives she?  Bell. 
If I can tell, the Devil take me  willmm. 
Is she handsome or ugly?  Bell. 
I wish I knew; for in short, I never saw her in my Life.  willmm. 
Hey-day! Where the Devil hast thou been! Of all the comtemplative Lovers I e'er saw, thou art absolutely the most absurd.' Plague upon thee for keeping me so long about a Castle in the Air, that's here and there, and no where. Farewell, and pray Heaven to set thee in thy right Wits again; for at present I have but small hopes of thee.  Bell. 
Nay, prithee be not so hasty: Thou must know, Frank, that this very moment did I receive a Summons from an unknown Lady, to meet her at a certain Place upon a very pleasant Account. Now do I want thy Advice in this Matter: for to speak the Truth, for ought I know, this may be some ill-natured Devil, that has a Mind to betray me, and then prey upon my weakness.  Wilm. 
Who was her Implement?  Bell. 
One that made no very ordinary appearance; only she was masked, and that heightens my Apprehensions.  willmm. 
Thou'rt a Fool: What Design can a Woman have but Love? Go, if thou'rt a Man.  Bell. 
Well, th'devil himself can't promote Fornication more vigorously than thou dost: But where art thou bound in such hast? To no Woman I hope?  willmm. 
Yes, i'faith, Harry, I've a deal of Business upon my hands; two Bills to be answered before Night.  Bell. 
Why art thou mad! Dost thou remember thy Obligations to Clarinda!  willmm. 
Ay, and the Clause in it too: If I could be private, it was to be of no force; and that Whore-Master that has not the Art of secrecy, deserves to be castrated.  Bellf. 
Well, thou'lt never leave.  willmm. 
Away, reserve thy Speeches for thy Lady; preach Abstinence to her, and try if she'll harken to thee. Exeunt severally.  SCENE, changes to my Lady Barter's Lodgings. Enter Lady Barter, and Alice. Ldy. Bar. 
Thou'rt a trusty Wench: But art thou sure 'twas to be this Afternoon?  Al. 
Madam, I heard 'em this very Morning with my own Ears.  Ldy. Bar. 
But if Bellfont should know Flavia now?  Al. 
He has been here but twice since she came to Town; and I'm sure she' scaped his Eyes both times.  Lady Bar. 
Well, if I can have the grace to deny him, I know he'll be for falling to't most eagerly.  Al. 
Truly, Madam, if it were my Case, a kiss or two would reconcile all.  Lady Bar. 
Thou art a Fool, Wench, there is a time for all things; this hour for my revenge; there are enough in store for Love: O here he comes.  Enter Willmot Singing. 
And just as our Bliss began with a Kiss,  
He was dashed with an ha, ha, ha—  
How dost thou, my dear Damnation?  Lady Bar. 
Oh, sick, Mr. Willmot; abominably sick.  willmm. 
And I was sent for to prescribe a Remedy; I have that will give you ease immediately: Nothing but a languishing fit of Love, occasioned by too much fasting: Come, come, I have a Sovereign Remedy; by this, and this, I have.  Lady Bar. 
Out upon you; you make me worse; Inconstancy has tainted every thing about you; those kisses are not mine; I feel your Lips still glowing with a false Adulterate heat; another Goddess now claims all your Heart, and you are grown an heretic in Love.  Will. 
mere Enthusiasm this; the very Devil of jealousy; and I'll lay it immediately, if thou'lt but come aside a little.  Lady Bar. 
Hold, hold, you are so fiery on a sudden; how will you be able to answer this to my Rival? Remember your Promise this morning; for shane, no Grace in you? But, could I think that you, who have been pampered thus long with the dainties of the Town, could take up at last with a fulsome Country Barn-door Fowl; a thing, that's come up on purpose to offer some ignorant Fool or other the leavings of the lusty Coach-man and Butler.  Willm. 
A pretty business this is like to be; whilst I'm mollifying my old Mistress, I shall lose my Assignation with my new one. ( Aside) Why how angry you are at a piece of Innocent Courtship; can you think my Tongue Heart went together? A mere ragged Colt; so wild and skittish—  Lady Bar. 
That, none but such a brisk young Fellow as yourself, is able to tame her; I dare swear, no Man in England labours more industriously in his Generation, than you do.  Will. 
Were ever the precious minutes of Love so unaccountably lost? Mrs. Alice, your Company will be dispensed with, for the present; Madam, give the word: Come, come, those Eyes are kind, tho' your Tongue has played the Tyrant.  Lady Bar. 
Well, I see you are irresistible; Alice, you may retire; but let us first have Mr. Willmot's judgement of the Song I was so pleased with last night.  Will. 
Madam, I know 'tis excellent.  Lady Bar. 
What, before you have heard it?  Willm. 
You have, that's enough: for God's sake, Madam, Sir Siman may come home in the same time; and then, how shall we be answerable to our own Consciences, for the happy hours we have kissed away.  Lady Bar. 
No, no; my Lord and he don't usually part so soon. ( Willmot aside) Alas, poor Flavia!  

A SONG. in the Second Act, sung by Mrs. Knight.  

I.  
O How you Protest, and solemnly lie,  
Look humble, and fawn like an Ass!  
I'm pleased I must own, whenever I see  
A Lover that's brought to this pass.  
But keep farther off, y'are naughty I fear;  
I vow I will never yield to't:  
You ask me in vain, for never I swear,  
I never, no never will do't.   

II.  
For when the Deed's done, how quickly you go;  
No more of the Lover remains.  
In hast you depart, what e're we can do,  
And stubbornly throw off your Chains:  
Desist then in time, let's hear on't no more;  
I vow I will never yield to't:  
You promise, in vain you adore;  
I never, no never will do't.    Lady Bar. 
Well, Sir, how do you approve of it?  Willm. 
extremely well, Madam; only 'twas something too long.  Lady Bar. 
She has another that's shorter; will you hear that?  Willm. 
No; if I do, may my Ears sprout out, till they are as long as an Ass's.  Sir Simon without. 
Lady Barter, Lady Barter; where are you, Honey?  Lady Bar. 
O Heavens! I hear Sir Simon's Voice; if he catches you, we are ruined: What will you do?  Willm. 
Do, Madam; what shall I do?' Gad, I don't know what to do.  Lady Bar. 
There is but one way. Alice, go meet him, and detain him a little: Here, into this Closet, till he is gone; I know he won't stay long; an hour will be the most.  Will. 
( Aside) An hour! That's an whole Age with me at present, if I durst tell her as much. I can't have patience, Madam; let me fight my way out.  Lady Bar. 
Ha! By no means; in there, if you love me.  Willm. 
But, good Madam, dispatch him as soon as you can, that I may make hast and follow him: Was ever cuckolded so impertinent? ( Aside.)  Lady Bar. 
Leave me to deal with him. She locks him into her Closet.  Enter Sir Simon, Alice, and laurence. Sir Sim. 
entering] hussy, hold your Tongue; what care I, if my Lord Mayor had sent to me; he is no Peer of the Realm, I hope: where's my Wife?  Lady Bar. 
Here, Sir Simon, who has angered you, my Dear?  Sir Sim. 
No body, Honey; but honest laurence has brought me some Money, that's better: Now Lady mine, I'll give you leave to recover your last Wager, when you dare venture.  Lady Bar. 
Wager, Sir! I'll venture what you dare, that laurence has not kissed one Wench, since he has been in the country.  Sir Sim. 
In troth, thou art the merriest Thief always: but I'm sure thou wouldst lose; and therefore I won't lay.  Law. 
Indeed, but by your Worship's favour, she should not: I am too old for 'em; the Gypsies hate me worse than hard labour; and to speak the truth, I shan't sue to them for a favour.  Sir Sim. 
Ah! would all the young Men were of thy mind; but, come, Madam, can you think of nothing else to lose upon?  Lady Bar. 
I have another thing in my head; but it's so extravagant, you'll laugh at it.  Sir Sim. 
Out with it, if you dare, I'm for any humour at present.  Lady Bar. 
Well; then my last Locket of Diamonds to an equal Stake, you don't remember every thing belonging to an House that's made of Iron? To help your Memory, you may writ down all you can think on in my Table-Book; when you have done, return it me again, and in half an hours tine; I'll either yield, or prove that you've lost.  Sir Sim. 
Laugh, quothe; ay, till my sides crack: but I'll reserve my Mirth, till I have won the Wager.  Lady Bar. 
Have a care Sir; don't be too secure: there, begin when you please. Alice, what does Willmot think of this now?  Al. 
Think, Madam? Were I in his Case, I should cry my Eyes out for mere anger.  Lady Bar. 
Let him: before I have done, I'll so mortify him, that were he in Flavia's Arms, he should be as could as a thing of fourscore and ten.  Al. 
But see, Madam, how busy my Master is; what can be your Ladyships meaning in this Wager?  Lady Bar. 
Any thing to detain my Husband; besides, that first offered itself; and if Sir Simon's Memory does not strike too home, I have laid the foundations of another Scene that will be very diverting. Come, Sir, have you done?  Sir Sim. 
Done! Ay, and won too; the Inventory of a Smith's Shop, can't be more particular: Here, peruse it, and by that time I return from my Lords, own that you have lost.  Lady Bar. 
Be but a little patient, and this moment may decide it; who have you left there?  Sir Sim. 
A Company of honest Fellows, only they want Titles.  Lady Bar. 
Did Willmot dine with you?  Sir Sim. 
Always inquiring after that Mount-Dragon; yes, he dined there, but hardly stayed till the Grace-Cup; a wicked Fellow that same: laurence, I warrant, we have more Cuckolds in our City of his making, than Knights of the Kings; the Devil and he are sharers in our Wives, one is contened with their Bodies, and t'other takes care of their Souls.  Lady Bar. 
Take heed, Sir, he may chance to hear you; for to speak the truth, we have been together ever since Dinner; he's at this very present in the House.  Sir Sim. 
Is he so, Jezebel? I'll have him hanged then, for breaking into it; he'll give us a fine account at Tyburn of Whoring, and Sabbath breaking: Gadsbud, I smell him already; laurence thou must help me: Come come, tell me, where is he?  Lady Bar. 
Don't be in a fury then: you must know, that after I had dined, not expecting you home till night, and being unwilling to set alone, I sent for him.  Sir Sim. 
A fine Woman's Companion he is, indeed!  Lady Bar. 
He came as I could wish.  Sir Sim. 
Ay, Hell take him for it.  Lady Bar. 
And to be sincere, I found his Conversation so pleasant and charming, that I believe, had not you come in, we had not partend till Mid-night.  Sir Sim. 
Nor till to morrow Mid-night neither, nor this Month; these twelve Months; No, nor till the Moon dropped Mill-stones:' Sbud, had he been a Lord, I could have born it; there is some Honour in being a Nobleman's cuckolded: But tell me where he is,' Gad I'll slice him into ten thousand pieces, and every cuckolded in London, shall have a bit as long as he'll hold out.  Lady Bar. 
Why, dear Sir Simon—  Sir Sim. 
Stand off, Adult'ress; thou smell'st rank of Harlot; I see my Horns plainly in thy Eyes: discover your Monster, or I'll pluck 'em out; they shall light no more lewd sinners to the deeds of darkness.  Lady Bar. 
Well then, since you won't be pacified, he's in my Closet.  Sir Sim. 
Is he so? I'll fetch him out I'll warrant him. Alice, fetch down my great Sword; how now, what have you locked him up? The Key, the Key?  Lady Bar. 
Nay, good my Dear, the Wager?  Sir Sim. 
Prithee hold thy Tongue, I've lost already what I shall never recover. A cuckolded! A Cut-purse! 'Zounds, I shall be sport for Porters within these two days; if she does not laugh at me, may I be a Chronicl'd Wittol.  Lady Bar. 
Laugh! Who that sees how credulous your jealousy is, can forbear? There, Sir, revise your Catalogue, and see if you can find a Key mentioned in it; a Key's made of Iron, Sir.  Sir Sim. 
Mass, and she's in the right; I begin to cool again; no, no such thing: where's my Brains?  Lady Bar. 
Do you think, if I had been so impudent as to transgress, I should have wanted cunning to conceal it? No, I perceived I had won, and made use of this trick to let you know it: you may take the Key; but if you find any thing there, besides the practise of Piety, Dod upon the Commandments, and two or three Novels, I'll be Carted for a Strumpet.  Sir Sim. 
Take it! No, I won't wrong thy Innocence so much, as to mistrust it; a merry Thief, laurence; I would not for twice the worth of the Wager, but have lost; here hussy, take it, all pure Gold; take it I say, and treat Willmot with it: Ha, ha, ha! I 'm so pleased every foot she is frighting me thus. Sirrah, Sirrah, I'll pay you for this at night; the merry'st Jest, they shall certainly have it at my Lord's; one kiss, and then farewell. Come, laurence, you shall go with me, perhaps we may meet your Master Sir Arthur there. Allons, a cuckolded; ha, ha, ha! Exeunt.  Lady Bar. 
So; now Alice, I believe you may release your Prisoner; nay, come Sir, what, afraid of your Mistress?  Enter Willmot. Willm. 
Something apprehensive of your Wit, Madam: now han't I the Heart to be angry with thee.  Ly. B. 
What think you Sir of being cut out into Slices, would your body hold out think you, that every cuckolded might have a bit.?  Wilm. 
It would be hard to satisfy the Husbands I believe, but the Wives and I might agree upon easier terms.  Ly. B. 
Likely enough, nay come, here's no danger now, Alice fetch us some Wine, and a dish of sweet-meats, here's enough to pay for all, Sir Simon left it on purpose.  Wilm. 
The Devil's in her I think, I shall never get rid of her.  Ly. B. 
Lord what's the matter with you? You was eager enough before, who Squanders away the precious Minutes of love now? Alice, you may retire if you please, but besure lock the door after you.  Wilm. 
Her kindness comes like a Miser's charity, when 'tis too late with a pox; what a delicious Morsel am I like to loose? Faith, my dear, I'm sorry I can stay no longer, but business—  Dy. B. 
Business? What quit your pleasure for business?  Wilm. 
Not absolutely quit child, but defer a little, that's all.  Ly. B. 
Nay but opportunity—  Wilm. 
We shall have enough, farewell.  Ly. B. 
Pray stay a little, you are going to another Mistress now Wilmot.  Wilm. 
Trust me I am not, I must be uncivil this time. Exit Wilmot.  Ly. B. 
And used accordingly the next; how would some Women storm now to be like me forsaken?  
But since our Sighs and Tears are spent in vain,  
Neglected as I am, I'll never complain.  Exit.   

ACT III.  

SCENE I. A Grove.  The Scene draws and discovers Belfont and Flavia, Belf. 
NAY come, no more excuse● Madam, they are both vain and useless; or serve at most but to blow up the fire you'd quench. This hand that's softer far than Down or Roses, this yielding hand which could press for ever, declares you free and open in your Nature; Why then do you decline what you were made for, did you come here for this? Are these the Joys to which you did invite me? Did you for this deceive the care of your too watchful Guardians? You should have left your foolish fears behind you, those fears that wrong you more than Argos could, with all his hundred Eyes set to observe 〈◇〉; nay if you are so peevish—  Fla. 
Sir, as you are a Man, and bear that Name—  Belf. 
Come come you have fooled too long.  Fla. 
Good Sir be kinder to me.  Belf. 
Kinder than Lovers hearts can wish, but your own peevishness that has out-done the loss of twenty Maiden heads, still crosses all my endeavours, would you be forced then Lady? It shall be so.  Fla. 
Dear Sir, low as the earth I bow me to you, for pittys sake dare you think there's an Heaven and be thus cruel?  Belf. 
Hell and the Devil! This is beyond all madness, good fearful Lady, can you be thus forgetful? This Afternooon you dared me to this place, this happy place, that seems to court us to our own desires, then, then your modesty would have become you, now 'tis mere Vanity and Affectation.  Fla. 
Believe me Sir, by all that's Good and Virtuous, I never sent to you.  Belf. 
That's very strange, but how then came you hither? Was it to gather Flowers or view your Beauties in yon' curling Stream, the time, the place, convincing proofs persuade me I am right.  Fla. 
By Heaven and all the Heavens Saints— but as you are a Man inquire no farther, don't urge a Secret from me, that concerns my Honour.  Belf. 
Now do I want a little of Wilmot's impudence, to say the truth, I shall give but a lousy account of this business to him, and yet I dare not, this must be more than counterfeit, confounded the Devil that sent me hither, pride and the Pox still stick upon her, by Heaven she weeps, there's something more in this which I must know: Nay Lady dry those tears, they speak my shane that caused 'em; let your fears vanish with all my unchaste thoughts, which thus I throw for ever from me, yet give me leave to think, though I am not the Man, you came to meet some other, that would have proved more welcome; nay blushy not Lady, for I'll never betray you, my tongue shall rot first.  Fla. 
Let my tears thank you Sir, you speak a Nobleness that wants a name, and whate'er I can say will be too little; 'tis true I came to meet a Man, false and ungrateful, whose name Posterity will never find, but in the examples of a broken love, he has deceived me, and I'll learn to hate him more than I ever loved him.  Belf. 
Dull senseless Fool, to wrong such excellence and lose a Treasure Jove himself would sue for, I'm all o'fire again, to look upon her and not wish to enjoy her, is more than Man can do; and could you Madam, be thus wondrous kind to one whose worth can never claim one favour from you, and yet be so severe, so cruel to me, who cannot live but in your Love, look on me Lady, I can do as much in a fair Ladies service, as the most large pretenders, and be a constant servant to your pleasures.  Fla. 
Be virtuous too, and I shall truly love you, those happy Saints who in the age behind us, made up bright Stories for the times that follow, shall not be more esteemed, more honoured by me.  Belf. 
Very fine this, and I shall be a Saint, a good dull Saint, but such a Love will become us when we are old and honest; mean time let's court those Joys our youth is fond of, and lose ourselves in pleasures where age shan't find us; nay prithee come, why should you be thus peevish? Consider what you are.  Fla. 
Consider what you'd make me, this hour I grant I seem handsome to you, what shall I be the next? When I have melted all my Virgin Charms in the hot fire of Lust, the Plague itself will not be half so odious.  Belf. 
Nay fie no more; indeed you make me smile to see how prettily this fear becomes you; to me you shall be very fair as an Angel.  Fla. 
To you I may be so, but to to the eye of Justice deformed and crooked.  Belf. 
Was ever Woman so perverse before? What Eye can see? What Tongue inform against us? Who is there that can know it?  Fla. 
Our Consciences they are Witnesses, no art can silence, no power restrain when once provoked, they'l strike far louder than the tongue of envy; consider Sir a thousand Women may be had, ten thousand, and thank you too; Women who daily live in the full pride of Lust, and have out-run the Vices of all ages; why therefore should you seek out my undoing? I never wronged or heard one thought against you, be juster Sir, be more a Man and show how Nobly you dare stand.  Belf. 
If I but listen a little longer, she'll even persuade me I 'm an Eunuch, and yet 'tis heaven to hear her speak.  Fla. 
'tis true indeed I came to meet a Lover, but not with one loose wanton thought about me; that Love which neither famed nor Virtue shuns was never thought unchaste, but you false Men, whose oaths are lighter than the Air receives 'em, have thrown it out of fashion; Why did I hope to find him Honest, who never knew what Faith or Honour meant.  Belf. 
Ha! I begin to smell something, this must be one of Wilmots Adventurers, he said indeed he had a couple to embark in, the Rogue has sprung a leak in the first, and so is disabled for any second service; your anger Madam does become you, for he who could be false to so much worth, can never be over wretched, give me his name, that for your sake, I may both scorn and hate him.  Fla. 
When I have named him, I have mentioned all that's lewd and treacherous, Wilmot, a name all modest Tongues must curse.  Belf. 
Ay 'tis so, none but that pampered Brute could neglect such a delicate dish; I know him Madam, know him such a Gamester, such an high Fligher, he'd have shown no pity, why dared you trust yourself and all your fears to such a Termagant?  Fla. 
A steady Virtu's never without a guard, he wooed me oft to his unjust desires, but in such soft, such winning terms, that tho' I scorned to be his Whore, I would have been the lawful partner of his Bed before the Sovereign Empress of the Universe, I heard of his Address to another, even then when he was courting me to all that's wicked, I feared to loose him, tho' in all appearance I never could hope to enjoy him lawfully, my fortune in the eye o'th' World, being much below his hopes, and therefore choose this way to let him know, that neither in Blood or Wealth I came behind my Rival; 'tis true I knew him bold and desperate, and could not be too cautious of my Honour, which this should have secured, had he once dared to offer violence; now Sir, if you e'er knew the the worth of Honour, or felt the fury of malicious Tongues, for once be more than Man and hid my shane.  Belf. 
Believe me Madam, so much my Tongue shall be from wronging what next Heaven I love, such goodness, that my own life shall not be dearer to me; who 'twas that sent me hither I can't conceive, but from my heart I thank 'em; I've found a Jewel equal to a Kingdom, and give me leave to wear you in my Soul, before the Seat of lust, but now enlightened with the bright beams of so much God-like Virtue, that Faith and Love never found a seat more noble; here let me seat my Vows, the sincere vows of a new Convert.  whilst Belfont is kissing her hand, Wilmot enters. Wilm. 
It must be on this side, I'm sure: I was devilishly afraid of being snapped up, for I hear they are all in the Garden; I'm glad I escaped so well as I did but now; had my Lady's stomach been so coming as mine, I should not have kept touch here, and to balk her in the first Encounter would not be much to my Credit, as I take it. Ha! what's this I see? another leaped into my Saddle? are all my expectations come to this? How like a couple of wanton young Worms they look, that are lewdly clung together in a dewy Morning? But this shall untwist' em. He draws his Sword, and runs up at Belf.  Fl 
Ah, ha, ha!  Wilm. 
Belfont!  Belf. 
Wilmot!  Wilm. 
How the Devil cam'st thou here? Is this the Lady gave thee such a kind Invitation? False Flavia.  Fl. 
Ingrateful Wilmot.  Belf. 
Plague o' your hot head, what have you done, allarmed the whole house?  Wilm. 
Pox o' your hot blood, what have you done, lain with my mistress?  Belf. 
Hold your rude tongue, or this shall silence it: Had thy Mother been half so honest, she had been a Saint e're now.  Fl. 
Thou art a Beast so much below my Anger, that I shall laugh at all thy impious tongue dares brand me with.  Belf. 
For God's sake, Madam, think timely what to do; I hear 'em coming, and if they find you here, thô you are pure as Heaven, they'l think you black as Hell.  Fl 
I'll retire. Sir, and trust my honour to your Conduct; a back door here behind leads into my Aunt's Garden. Exit Flavia.  Wilm. 
A fine day's work this, two hopeful intrigues come to nothing; and what's worse, Clarinda will find me false, and be a very Tyrant: Owns, had I but tasted the Fruit, 'twould never vex me, but to have my teeth set on edge at the very sight on't does a little trouble me. Prithee Harry, didst thou find her easy? Thou art much obliged to the advice my Coxcomb gave thee to day.  Belf. 
For shane, have better Thoughts in thee; Truth itself is not straighter.  Wilm. 
That's likely: What did she come here for then?  Belf. 
That's a mystery thou shalt be hereafter acquainted with; but who sent me hither, unless 'twas the Devil himself, I can't imagine.  Wilm. 
One that will be a Devil in time, I believe; my Lady Barter, by this Light it could be no other.  Belf. 
What, then I suppose she has been retaining your person in her Service the mean while.  Wilm. 
Ay, a Vengeance take her, she has so; but such another Adventure woned make me abjure the Flesh more hearty than ever I followed it, and turn down right honest again.  Belf. 
It will become your Prudence.  Wilm. 
Such damned Devices, Harry: but prithee how do I look?  Belf. 
Something Crest-fallen: But see, they're all coming, and my Lady Barter at the head of 'em, as I live.  Wilm. 
confounded her, now shall I be worri'd to death.  Enter Lady Barter, Clar. Marina, and Betty. L. Bar. 
It must be this way, Ladies, we are right I'm sure.  Wilm. 
aside. Ay, the Devil take you, you are so; my Mistresses all up in Arms against me, and I not one lie ready for my Defence.  L. B. 
Look ye Ladies, here's a Gentleman I believe, can give us a better account of the Outcry: What say you, Mr. Wilmot?  Cl. 
Mr. Wilmot here! I thought you had been at t'other end of the Town, paying some Money, Sir.  Wilm. 
Why faith, Madam, I went with that design; but upon the fall of Guineas the Party was in an ill humour, and would not receive it!  L. B. 
Unkindly done indeed; make you leave your Mistris, and to no purpose: They should stay long enough if I was you.  Wilm. 
As long as a peevish humour some mistress that had disappointed her Lover, and all the tenders of his Service: 'sdeath she'll betray all presently,  Belf. 
hark you, Madam, 'twas a fine Errand you sent me on; no more distressed Damsels? I 'm a Man of Honour. aside to L. Barter.  L. B. 
Nay, I knew I should deserve your Thanks.  Belf. 
Which I want words to pay.  Wilm. 
The Devil plot you: I hate a mischievous mistress.  L B. 
And I a Cormorant Lover, that flies at all without any mercy.  Cl. 
But all the while, where can this Lady be? Betty, let's go seek her; for I must know who she is. aside to Betty.  Bet. 
I'll follow your Ladyship. Exeunt.  Wilm. 
No pity in you, Madam? You may make up all yet if you please: So severe a Pennance for one fault?  L. B. 
Do you feel it, Sir, are you sensible of it? This 'tis to be such a covetous Gamester, to ven●●●e so many Stakes at once: Is it come home to you at last? What, rise hungry from a full Feast, merely because your mouth watered at an idle bit in a corner.  Wilm. 
I confess my fault, and own you have been too hard for me.  L. B. 
Well, I see you are penitent, and have done.  Enter Lord Goodland, Sir Sim. Sir Arth. and Fairly. Lord Goodl. 
O here they are Marina, where's your Cousin?  Mar. 
On the other side of the Grove, my Lord.  Sir Sim. 
How now, Bully, what, naked amongst the Ladies? For shane, for shane; why this Sword drawn, Man?  Wilm. 
To pink your Coxcomb with, if you are impertinent. 'Sdeath, these are come in for a Reserve: There's nothing so odious to a disappointed Whoremaster, as a fantastical cuckolded. aside.  Sir Sim. 
prithee why so passionate, Man? I must laugh at a pretty Fancy comes into my head: Thou look'st, methinks, like the satire of the Woods.  Wilm. 
And you like the Bull of the Mountains. Insufferable Coxcomb. aside.  Sir Arth. 
Why Frank, thou art as ticklish and intractable as a Colt.  Wilm. 
And you as dull and dirty as an Ass.  Fairl. 
Thou art not mad, Man, art thou?  Wilm, 
I shall be presently, if these Worms bite a little longer.  Belf. 
Prithee be more temperate.  Mar. 
Why, how would you have a Gentleman behave himself, that is caught upon suspicion, and, as ill luck would have it, by his own mistress.  Sir Sim. 
Great pity you had no Closet to run into: Nay, thereby hangs a Tale, and I must laugh— But you must expect your Sins to come home to you by degrees; you young Fellows that live like Mice on others Meat must be caught in the Trap sometime or other.  Enter Clarinda and Betty. Bet. 
I 'm sure it must be so, Madam.  Clar. 
I'll plague him for't.  Wilm. 
Sir Arthur, here's a Lady I must present you to; you'll know her when you see her.  Sir Arth. 
Death, Hell, and Damnation; I had rather see the Ghost of my Great-grandmother: Now will that ill-natured Dog betray all, and I shall be be banded about like a Tennis-ball, tossed in a Blanket, it may be, before I get off. aside.  Sir Sim. 
O, here's your mistress, Wilmot; stick to her, Man, she'll teach you to be honest: you have a slippery piece to deal with, Madam, thô he may make a good Husband; for surely he that has such a love for other mens Wives, must have more than an ordinary Affection for his own.  Cl. 
I find, Sir, the Maids can go down upon occasion, as well as the Wives; he shoots at all Marks; these Trees could have witnessed it within these two hours.  Enter Servant. serve. 
My Lord, some Gentlemen within expect your Lordship.  L. Good. 
Very well: They are return'd. Come Sir Simon, t'other Glass; 'twill make us sleep the sounder. Gentlemen, one Bottle will do us no hurt.  Belf. 
We'll follow your Lordship.  L. B. 
Come, Mr. Wilmot, what think you of a Song?  Wilm. 
I have had Singing to day already, enough to put me out of Tune for this month.  Sir A. 
Gallants, shall I propose one made by a Gentleman here present, in honour of a Lady in the company?  Mar. 
That will be very proper indeed Sir Arthur; we shall be all obliged to you.  Sir A. 
Come then, Fairly, you know best how to grace your own Works.  Fair. 
What means the Booby?  Sir A. 
The Song you made at Brussels man: Marina so pretty, so young and so witty; you Sung it to the company when the fat Spanish Officer drunk three full Rummers to her nether Lip, and the tip of her left Ear.  Fair. 
By heaven! the Fool's run mad.  Mar. 
'tis what I feared, I find all men alke; one looks enough to blast our Reputations, and make us sport for Knaves and Drunkards. ( aside.) I know not, Sir, in what I have encouraged you to such a base unworthy act as this is, must my unhappy Name be the Companion of all your midnight Cups and lewd Debaucheries?  Fair. 
But hear me Madam—  Mar. 
No, I have heard too much already. Exit.  Fair. 
If thou wer'st not a fool, beneath my anger, I'd kick thee.  Sir A. 
I can't find what reason she has to be angry, unless she is jealous of her own praises.  Belf. 
Follow her man, one word or two will recover all, these little quarrels nourish Love, make it more strong and lasting.  L. B. 
'tis but a short Fit like Heat-drops in Summer, that vanish as they fall.  Fair. 
I'll try my fortune. Exit.  Clar. 
Now I'm of a quiter different opinion; quarreling to beget love is like spending high to become rich.  Wilm. 
Or rather, Madam, perpetual Peace is like a constant Sun, it scorches up what it should feed and ripen; some angry minutes now and then intervening, like kindly showers render it brisk and lively.  Enter Alice. Al. 
Madam, my Master's Brother has sent for him to Hamstead, but he must speak with you before he goes.  Wilm. 
This is as I could wish; dare you lie alone to Night after all this day's villainies. aside to L. Barter.  L. B. 
Why, would you be my Bedfellow?  Wilm. 
I know I don't deserve that favour, but—  L. B. 
You have a Fool to deal with; Well, let me have the Serenade you so long promised, and then—  Wilm. 
That then has made me all on fire. Exit L. Barter  Clar. 
But I shall cool you if my Wits fail me not. aside  Enter Fairly. Sir A. 
Here comes Fairly again with War in his face; I wish I was well rid of him.  Fair. 
'tis all in vain, I may as well endeavour to smooth the face o'th' Sea, when the Winds rise highest, as calm her anger.  Cl. 
Mr. Fairly, a word in private; trust me, this is only a qualm of Conscience, a foolish persuasion that her Honour is touched; she'll sleep it off in a Night or two.  Fair. 
I wish it were no more.  Cl. 
You'll find it nothing else, I have that in my head shall convince you, Sir Arthur shall do it, I'll set him on to Court her, the very thought of such a Lover will disarm her anger.  Fair. 
Any thing, Madam, to feed my hopes; but—  Cl. 
Nay, no exceptions upon Love; retire you with Wilmot and Belfont, and leave me to manage the Knight.  Fair. 
You shall command me; Come, Wilmot, Wine is the best physic for a Love-sick heart; let us to my Lord, he'll wonder at our stay. Belfont, you'll follow?  Wilm. 
A good proposal, Madam, shall I be your Squire?  Cl. 
No, no good Sir, follow your Commander, I may help to led you home if you get drunk anon.  Wilm. 
I shall be very loving then.  Cl. 
A good quality in a Drunkard. Ex. Wilm. Belf. and Fairly  
Hold, Sir Arthur, I have a word or two for your Ear.  Sir Ar. 
I thought as much, that treacherous Dog has discovered all: Madam, I beg your Pardon hearty; I must be submissive. aside.  Cl. 
For what, Sir, I know nothing you have done stands in need of it?  Sir Ar. 
That deserves it you mean, Madam; I own I was to blame, but before my Tongue shall be guilty of such another fault, I'll bite it off, and lay the bold offender at your feet.  Cl. 
O, is that all? No fault at all Sir Arthur, it may turn much to your advantage, if you are wise.  Sir Ar. 
How's this? I have heard, indeed, the best way to step into a Woman's favour was to talk bawdy to her face; but that to tell bawdy Stories of her behind her back would do, I never found before.  Cl. 
Why, but Sir Arthur, so contemplative in a Ladies company?  Sir Ar. 
'tis so, she's fond of me already. ( aside.) A little admiring your ladyships good Nature, that's all.  Cl. 
You shall say you have reason, if you'll lend me your Ear a little.  Sir A. 
Adsbud, and my heart too.  Cl. 
Dare you venture any thing for a fair Lady?  Sir A. 
Dare I lie with a fair Lady?  Cl. 
What think you of my cousin Marina?  Sir A. 
Not amiss, Madam, though there are others at present Nameless that I think her equals. Pretty Soul, how cunningly she opens, I must help her forward a little. aside.  Cl. 
Not many, Sir: what would you do to be possessed of all her love can give?  Sir A. 
More for what somebody else can give: What an odd way she has got to try me. aside.  Cl. 
The Fool's mad surely, I must be plainer with him: You know, Sir Arthur, by those words you let fall but now, you have made an everlasting breach 'twixt her and Fairly, if you are the man the World takes you to be, you will not lose so favourable an opportunity; Ply her in her fury, and win her to yourself, her Anger and your own Merits will pled irresistible for you: 'tis a Friend's advice, and if you are wise you'll take it.  Sir A. 
Hum: What a blunder was I like to have committed, it's not so well as I thought, and yet 'tis better than I expected too. Madam, the Counsel of the Wise must not be rejected, as such I look on yours, and will incontinently follow it.  Cl. 
I secure you you'll succeed as you deserve.  Sir A. 
Madam, I have lived too long to doubt it, but the rawness of the Evening begins to be a little dangerous, will your ladyship honour me with your hand in?  Cl. 
I'll follow you, Sir; I have a word or two for my Maid first. Ex. S. Ar. This will work her, or I'm mistaken, and make her fret out that musty humour. But now for my own business: Betty, hast thou got the clothes ready I borrowed yesterday at my Lady Courtly's, with the Hat and Crevat?  Bet. 
Yes Madam; but what your Ladyship designs to do with 'em, I can't imagine.  Cl. 
More than I have time to acquaint thee with at present: And will Flavia come sayst thou?  Bet. 
She will, Madam, and will stick at nothing your Ladyship can think of to plague Mr. Wilmot.  Cl. 
That's well; come in, and help to dress me, I shall be but a Bungler.  Exeunt. Scene changes to the Street. Enter Wilmot and a Servant, with some music. Wilm. 
Here, Gentlemen, this is the Window; some brisk wanton Air or other, to quicken her Imagination; and then the Song I gave you.  

SONG Written by Mr. D'Urfey.  

'TWas within a Furlong of Edinbrough Town,  
In the rosey time of Year when the Grass was down,  
Sonny usually blithe and gay  
Said to Jenny, making Hay,  
Let us fit a little, Dear, and prattle,  
'Tis a soultry day.  
He long had courted the black brown Maid;  
But usually was a Wag and would ne're consent to wed:  
Which made her pish and phoo,  
And cry it ne're shall do;  
I cannot, cannot, cannot, wonot, wonot buckle to.   

II.  
He  told her, Marriage was grown a mere Joke,  
And that none wedded now, but the Scoundrel Folk:  
Yet, my Dear, thou shouldst prevail,  
But I know not what I all;  
I shall dream of Clogs and silly Dogs  
With Bottles at their Tails.  
But I'll give thee Gloves and a Bongrace to wear,  
And a pretty Filly foal, to ride out and take the Air,  
If thou ne're wilt pish and phoo,  
And cry it ne're shall do,  
I cannot, cannot, cannot, wonot. wonot, buckle to.   

III.  
That you'll give me Trinkets, cried she, I believe;  
But ah, what in return must your poor Jenny give?  
When my Maiden Treasure's gone,  
I must gang to London Town;  
And roar and rant, and patch and paint,  
And kiss for half a Crown;  
Each drunken Bully oblige for pay,  
And earn an hated Living an odious fulsome way.  
No, no it ne're shall do;  
For a Wife I'll be to you.  
Or I cannot, cannot, cannot, wonot, wonot, buckle to.    Wilm. 
There, Sirs, let this express my Thanks. Exeunt Mus.  L. Bar. in the Balcony. 
Who's there, Mr. Wilmot?  Wilm, 
The very same, my dear Temptation; be quick, if thou lovest me.  L. B. 
I'll see if the Family is secure, and sand down Alice, immediately. Ex.  Wilm. 
Do so, and I'll thank thee when I'm got in: No new Quirks, I hope, to mortify me. Roger, I have no farther Service for thee now; I am glad thou dog'dst Sir Arthur so happily, the Discovery may be of use in time; you bid the Coachman drive home, I hope.  Rog. 
Yes and please your Worship, an hour since.  Enter Clarinda in Man's clothes, with music. They place themselves under the Lady's Window. Cl. 
O, There he is; how like a Thief he looks! Come; begin; and if he dares touch you, be sure roar loud enough to alarm the whole house.  Wilm. 
Ha, What's here, my fiddlers come back again? As I live, a new Covey, and a Rival; by this hand, a young smock-fac'd Rival. Roger, lend me thy Cudgel, I shall break their Cats guts, and spoil their music.  as they are going to strike up, he falls in amongst' em. Mus. 
Oh, I'm ruined, I'm ruined.  Wilm. 
What do you do here then, you Sleep-murderers? you that are good for nothing, but to raise the Husbands, when honester Men are in private with their Wives: Take that amongst you. beats' em.  Omnes. 
Murder, Murder; for God sake help, good people, Murder.  Wilm. 
'Sdeath, they'll raise the Family, and I shan't be able to get in these two hours: Go, walk off, and be thankful.  Cl. 
Hold, Sir, turn your fury this way; here's one able to oppose you with a nobler Weapon than that your Cowardice has made use of.  Wilm. 
Why, who have we here, Monsieur Lawrit? Prithee Child; put up thy Sword; thou wilt cut thy fingers with it.  Clar. 
Your Throat, Sir, rather, if you are so unmannerly.  Wilm. 
Why, thou darest not fight.  Cl. 
Follow, and try me.  Wilm. 
Prithee, consider first, a small scratch in thy Face would break thy Heart; and shouldst thou ever come under the Surgeons hands, the very Smell of their ointments would choke thee.  Cl. 
Come, come, Sir; this is no fit time or place to talk in: If you are the Man you would be thought, show it; the Moon shines favourably upon us, and will direct our Swords.  Wilm. 
Well, go on; I'll whip thee into a better humour before I have done. I'll first corrrect my Rival, and then for my Mistress.  Alice in the Balcony. 
Hist! hist! Mr. Wilmot.  Wilm. 
Go forward, Sir, I have but a Word or two to exchange here, and I'll o'retake you.  Cl. 
This is as I could wish. ( aside.) At the corner of the Street then I'll expect you. Exit.  Wilm. 
I'll be with you in a moment.  Al. 
What have you done, Sir? All the house is raised at the noise you have made: My mistress is afraid you have had some Quarrel.  Wilm. 
No, no, nothing at all, Mrs. Alice; by that time you have composed the Family again, I'll return.  Al. 
But you'll be long.  Wilm. 
Not for the World.  Al. 
Are you sure there is no quarrel: My mistress heard Murder cried out.  Wilm. 
None upon my honour; only some drunken Footmen had a mind to alarm the Watch.  Al. 
Well, you'll remember.  Wilm. 
I'll ne're think more else. ( Exit Alice.)  
I begin most dismally to suspect I shall have no better fortune in the night, than I had in the day time: Those little twinkling Stars are all against me. I wish this young Rascal had been in one of his Fidler's Cases, before he came hither; he's little enough, I'm sure. Roger, thou mayst go home now, if thou wilt; though I have two Combats to be engaged in, neither of 'em requires a Second. How now! nothing but Hobgoblins stirring this Night?  Exit Roger. Enter Clar. in her own clothes, and Flavia in Man's. Cl. 
Be but resolute, and it's impossible he should know you.  Fl. 
But should he draw upon me, I have a natural Aversion to a naked sword.  Cl. 
O, I have that will secure us, I warrant him.  Wilm. 
By this night, this bawdy night, ill favoured night, my own natural mistress, and another young smooth faced Sinner: How sweet she is upon him too; Hell and the Devil.  Cl. 
Now is our time. But could you be thus wondrous kind, all I possess comes short of a Reward.  Wilm. 
What shall I do? My young fighting Gamester must stay a little, if he has the courage he pretends, 'twill strengthen his patience.  Fl. 
Madam, I bear no Mercenary mind, I shall be more than paid in the possession of your love.  Wilm. 
Which you must never hope for, young Gentleman, whilst I wear this.  Cl. 
Mr. Wilmot! luckily met, you may do us a kindness, for this Gentleman, an old acquaintance of mine, and myself, are in great want of a Lodging for this Night; My uncles House I dare not make use of at present, for some reasons you shall know hereafter: Can you advice us to any convenient place?  Wilm. 
Yes, Madam, the Round-House, the fittest place for Night-Walkers; unkind Clarinda.  Cl 
Uncivil Wilmot; farewell, Sir, if you are so surly.  Wilm. 
Nay, but one word more; Who may this little Squire be?  Fl. 
She has  told you, Sir, already; one that is proud of nothing so much as her friendship, the noblest friendship Love; my Title to which I would not forfeit for all the World can give me.  Wilm. 
' sdeath! this is a Twin Brother to my t'other Jackanapes. Very fine, Madam; and for what does your ladyship design me? Your day Service. This is to be the feeble Animal your Husband, and I that noble Creature your Gallant. I like your choice well, you Women oftentimes deal by your Lovers as your Clothes, any thing will serve at Night, but in the day time Art itself is at a loss to please you.  Fl. 
This is a Language, Sir, I am not used to, therefore forbear, or I have that shall make you.  Wilm. 
With all my heart, for know, Sir, she's my Mistress, and you shall win her before you wear her: Come Sir, when you please, I'll fight on this score tho' 'twere in the Church. Draws.  Fl. 
Now, Madam, or all will be discovered.  Cl. 
Hold, Sir, you had best, you see I've got a weapon will strike as sure as yours, and I dare use it; I'll give occasion to no Midnight quarrels, to morrow— Pulls out a Pistol.  Wilm. 
Yes, to morrow his f●ars wiil have conveyed him far enough from my Sword.  Cl. 
Secure us both till then.  Wilm. 
Ha, but where?  Cl. 
In your own Lodgings.  Wilm. 
How am I perplexed? If I go with these I shall miss my other Spit-fire; and what is worse, disappoint my Lady. aside.  Cl. 
Nay, come Sir, conclude on something quickly.  Wilm. 
All the Devils in Hell are at work to Night to plague me. Madam, my Necessities require me abroad.  Fl. 
Lend us your Key then.  Wilm. 
Yes, Sir Bevis, lend you a Bed to lie with my Mistress in.  Fl. 
I have warned you of that Name, Sir, once before, but to satisfy you, I swear—  Wilm. 
But who shall believe you, you young treacherous Dog?  Fl. 
You may, Sir; we'll never do our Loves such wrong to over-run our fortunes, or taste one Joy before the Warrant of the Church has made it Lawful: May I ne'er answer the expectations of a longing Virgin; may she still find me weak and unable, as if Nature had designed me for a Woman—  Wilm. 
The Rogue professes hearty, but I shall be never the more secure of you then, you may give me the slip before morning.  Cl. 
No, if I do, may my dear friend, whom equal to my life I love, after all my hopes and wishes, prove a mere Woman.  Wilm. 
Well, whether I will or no, I must believe you; you know my Lodgings.  Cl. 
My Lady Courtly's.  Wilm. 
This Key will open a passage by the Garden that will led you to my Chambers; you'll find two Beds there, if you are not afraid to lie alone.  Fl. 
Trust to our honesty's.  Wilm. 
For the present I 'm in hast, if I catch you—  Fl. 
Leave nothing of a Man about me; farewell Sir: ( Exit Wilmot.) Ha, ha, ha: I protest, Madam, I was once afraid he'd have gone home with you.  Cl. 
No, Girl, I had secured him for that, his Honour was engaged, besides his assignation with my Lady, which will end much to his satisfaction if Betty has done her duty.  Fl. 
I warrant she has, I gave her her Lesson, and she went to work very hearty.  Cl. 
Well, let us he moving, for when he finds he has lost his Antagonist he'll return in a fury. Exeunt.  Re-enter Wilmot. Wilm. 
'tis as I feared, that young Rascal has given me the slip; but hang him, for this Night I'll lose the thoughts of him: Now for my old Sign. He whistels.  Enter Alice. Al. 
In Sir, quickly, you know the Bedchamber; my Lady will be with you in a moment.  Wilm. 
Here's for thee, my pretty Iris, I have a better Toy for thy Mrs. Juno; pray Heaven she does not prove a Cloud again, and deceive me.  Al. 
Nay, Sir, be quick and silent as you can; Sir Arthur is still abroad, and will come in this way I believe. ( Exit Wilmot) So, when should I have got so much under an honest Lady. I wonder; this Gentleman loves his Pleasures well, I believe, he always pays so hearty for them; he's no true Knight errand tho', he never brings his Squire with him, that should be entertaining his dansel, whilst he is civil to the Lady.  Enter Sir Simon. Sir S. 
How now, Hussy, what makes you up so late? and at the Door too? some Roguery or other I warrant.  Al. 
O Heavens, my Master!  Enter L. Barter. L. B. 
Well, Alice, is the dear man come? Bless my Eyes! what have we here? My Husband come home? aside.  Sir S. 
Ay, mary is he, and 'tis well for him too, for he might have had Horns as big as the Bull of Basan else before morning: Nay, Mistress, stir one foot and this shall fetch you back. What dear Man was this?— But hold, the Street is no proper place for my inquiries, I'll defer them till I am got in; follow me both. Nay, Gentlewoman, I say I'll led the way. Exit. Sir Simon  Al. 
Madam, What's to be done? He's in your Bed-chamber.  L. B. 
Why, I find that Devil Wit has left me at my greatest extremity.  Exeunt. Scene changes to a Bed-chamber, and Wilmot in it. Wilm. 
I wish she'd come once, 'tis something melancholy sitting in the dark; I am as impatient as if I had never enjoyed her, and yet Clarinda will not out of my thoughts; surely she can't be what she appears: O! I hear her coming. ( Enter Sir Simon L. Barter) My Dear, I hope the Night, a constant friend to Lovers— As Sir Simon enters, Wilmot mistaking him for the Lady runs to embrace him; the Lady shrieks out, and Sir Simon stars first upon Wilmot, and then upon his Wife.  Wilm. 
By all my hopes, the nauseous cuckolded! aside.  Sir S. 
Unbutton'd! and ready for the Engagement! I have jested to a fine purpose; Good Sir, never fret for the matter, all shall be mended the next time. I own I am a cuckolded; nay, 'tis impossible I should be otherwise, for what can an Old man, with an handsome Wife, expect else: Here's one as much disappointed as yourself. Well, Alice, is the dear Man come? O how the flesh itch'd then! And you are well acquainted with my Wives Bed-chamber: You can grope out your way in the dark, I warrant him, or any Cuckolds Chamber in London. O that Fornicating Nose, that smells out an hot Lady as a Dog does a proud Bitch!  Enter Alice. Al. 
Now for the honour of my Function. ( aside.) O, Sir, are you here? I have been looking all over the House for you.  Sir S. 
Have you so Mrs. Bawd, his experience needs none of your assistance, he knows his way himself you see.  Al. 
For Godsake, Sir, don't speak so loud, 'tis Mr. Wilmot.  Sir S. 
Not speak? mary but I will, that all the Town may hear me as loud as Bow-Bell, if possibly, and ring a warning to all feeble Husbands, and super-annuated bachelors.  Al. 
Lord, Sir, you'll break the head of the best design that ever was laid, Mr. Wilmot, and a certain Lady in the House, will have reason to curse you.  Sir Sim. 
Ay, so I hope they will, e'er I have done with' em.  Alice. 
Why good Sir, neither of 'em never wronged you.  Ly. Barter. 
aside.] What can her meaning be in this?  Sir Sim. 
No no, Cuckoldom is no wrong indeed, a Blessing, a very Blessing, ill Cuckolds go to Heaven.  Alice. 
Good Sir, be patient, and don't disappoint 'em thus.  Sir Sim. 
Art not thou an impudent, unconscionable Quean? wou'd'st thou have me look on whilst he lies with my Wife? I must confess he is an able Artist, and might teach me the knack of pleasing her too; but Hussy go you to the fore-dore, bawl out Murder as loud as you can, raise the Constable and his Watch, and bring 'em hither. Sir I shall hamper you, and provide another sort of lodging for you, than what you expected.  Wilm. 
Hold Sir Simon, I wear a Sword, and can right myself; let her stir one step on that design, and this Minute shall be your last.  Sir Sim. 
So; the right humour of an Whore-master, first lye with the Wife, and then beat the Husband.  Alice. 
How sorry will you be Sir, when you find what an injury you have done my Lady; you know Mr. Wilmot has along time applied himself to Madam Flavia; 'twas with her he was caught to day in the Grove; being disappointed there, he had a mind to try his fortune to night; I by her consent was to let him in, I did so, directed him to her chamber, but fearing he might loose himself in the dark, was willing to be his Guide; that made me so eager to get before your Worship, to prevent this very mistake, which has so unhappily discomposed you.  Sir Sim. 
Hum, she'd never be so confident, if this was a lie, but what dear Man was that you inquired after, Wife? I would fain know that.  Ly. B. 
Who should it be but Sir Arthur, who is abroad at this unseasonable time of night, and for ought I know may have met with some mischance or other, the thoughts of which would not let me sleep.  Sir Sim. 
I doubt I have been too blame, this is the appearance of truth; and hussy, why could not I know this before?  Alice. 
Still as I was going to speak Sir, your impatience interrupted me.  Sir Sim. 
Mr. Wilmot, I'm sorry for the injury I have done you, and to make you some amends, I wish you good success; I hope you'll be too cunning for my Landlady, she was vilifying honour and quality with a pox t'other day; pray do you take a little pains with her niece, and stamp an honourable Title upon her.  Wilm. 
I'll do my best Sir; Insensible Brute how easily they guile him. aside.  Sir Sim. 
Your pardon my dear, I'll beg in bed. where I shall with more ease obtain it, 
For tho' most Wives in fury spend the day,  
Approaching night bears all in mists away;  
The yielding Bed disarms their rage, you never  
Shall find one Woman can be angry there.  Exeunt.    

ACT IV.  

SCENE I. A Field.  Enter Wilmot and Fairly. Fair. 
FAith Frank thou must pardon me, for tho' my own circumstances will scarce admit of any mirth, I must laugh a little.  Wilm. 
'tis fit thou shou'd'st; nay I can scarce forbear laughing myself, and yet take heed Ned, I may be chance to be angry, very angry, a little provocation will make me quarrel with the best Friend I have.  Fair. 
Indeed you are rightly served; never take warning, this 'tis to live at random, learn to be honest o'God's name, and live as becomes a Christian.  Wilm. 
Hold Sir, tho' I give you leave to be merry, I can't allow you to be grave upon my misfortunes, live Honest as becomes a Christian; pox o' your morality, thou art certainly cut out for a dull Husband, and art consequently a predestinated Cukold; no from henceforth I proclaim open War to the whole Sex, and am firmly resolved, to Defame, Ravish and Debauch, every thing that bears the likeness of Woman, those that pretend to a great deal of Honour, and have but very little Beauty; I'll tickle till their Blood itches, bawk 'em myself, and then turn 'em out to my Footmen; the handsome ones that would be thought great Fortunes, and are catching at rich Husbands, I'll first promise Marriage to, then Whore, and afterwards hire some lewd Lampooner to tell the Town on't; the Wives I'll first lye with, and then betray 'em to their Husbands; the Virgins that are Honest, and are proud on't, I'll maintain to be Hypocrites, and persuade the World that the worst of Whores, who are not Honest, nor would be thought so, have more Honour than they.  Fair. 
A desperate resolution, I confess, and yet the next handsome face thou se'st will make the relapse.  Wilm. 
No, the Horse-pox take me if it does, but still my little Hector does not appear; I am sorry I mist him so unluckily last night; if he uses his Sword no better than he does his Pen, I am like to have an easy Conquest, I have received many a Billet-doux writ in a better hand than this Challenge.  Fair. 
Well, if there is any mischief done this morning, and I chance to fall into this Honourable quarrel of thine, tell Marina I die hers in spite of all her anger, which in few days would have done the work of my Enemies Sword.  Wilm. 
Tell her a pudding, I'll tell her thou di'st as a Man should, with a Curse in thy mouth against the whole Sex; S'life 'tis nothing but our fear that maintains their pride and Stubbornness; are they not our Slaves by Nature? why then must we slavishly sue to them, for what we can command, and they themselves upon their knees would offer, if we could but learn to despise and neglect' em.  Fair. 
Thou talk'st like a losing Gamester; but to thy Guard, Frank the Enemy approaches, now show how manfully thou darest stand, here's one will put thee to it.  Enter Clarinda Masq't. Wilm. 
She has not much war in her heart I believe, She keeps her Sword in the Scabbard; good morrow pretty Mistress, whither so early this Morning.  Cla. 
To gather Primroses and daisies for my sweet-heart, farewell.  Wilm. 
Short and quick, and yet she seems to be none of the wisest, one word more Lady.  Cla. 
O Sir, I dare stay no longer, my Mother will be angry with me.  Wilm. 
And where does thy Mother live, sweet-heart?  Cla. 
In a Glass-house, upon the top of the Iron Mountain in Greenland.  Wilm. 
And she has sent thee into England of an errand, pox on her, we had Fools enough here before, but why dost thou hid thy Face?  Cla. 
To keep it from the Flies forsooth.  Fair. 
Prithee Frank, let her alone, 'tis some Bedlam Fool or other.  Clar. 
Did you see my true love, pretty Gentleman? I believe you are he.  Wilm. 
No, the Devil take me if I am.  Cla. 
Was you never in love Sir?  Wilm. 
Never with a Fool, Child.  Cla. 
Why, then you must rise at Midnight, turn yourself round three times, say your Prayers, wash your Face and hands in blue Milk, and then—  Wilm. 
What then?  clear. 
You may go to bed again.  Wilm. 
May I so, Mrs. Nimble-chaps; let us walk a little farther this way Ned, she begins to grow troublesone.  Cla. 
hark you Sir, stay a little, and I'll tell you your fortune; O fie, O fie, you have not been a bed all this night.  Wilm. 
Ha.  Cla. 
If you had, you'd hide some Dazy roots under your pillow, hung your shoes out at the Window, and dreamed of me forsooth.  Wilm. 
Then I should have dreamed of a Fool, forsooth.  Cla. 
Then I should have  told you who you'll be married to, and what's become of the Tanner's Daughter you gave something to; I know what.  Wilm. 
Ha, is the Fool turned Conjurer? Who in the Devil's Name art thou?  Cla. 
The Goldsmith's Wife that lost my Maiden-head the night before I was Married, can you tell me any News of it?  Fair. 
Why Frank, art thou bewitched?  Cla. 
My Aunt had a Daughter brought to bed in the Country, and was Married afterwards to a fat Lord's Chaplain.  Wilm. 
The Devil take thee hearty, hearty, hearty.  Clar. 
My Mother had 20 Guineas and a new Gown for carrying a Mercers niece to a Gentleman's Chamber, and I had ten more for taking care of her Child.  Wilm. 
Death and Damnation!  Cl 
O Sir, you must not Swear, if you do, the Puritans Widow will never trust you in her Chamber again.  Wilm. 
If thou art Flesh and Blood, and not the very Devil himself, as I begin to doubt, I will know who thou art before we part.  Clar. 
I am a little Fairy that challenge People in the night time, and run away from 'em when I have done.  Wilm. 
Prithee Ned strike me a sound rap on the Pate, that I may be sure I am awake.  Clar. 
I 'm a busy Tell-tale, that sand Husbands home to catch other Men in Bed with their Wives.  Wilm. 
For which you shall be whipped abundantly, Child.  Clar. 
I 'm a little Night-Walker that get Mens Keys out of their Pockets, run into their Chambers, rifle their closerts, red all their Letters, and laugh at 'em when I have done; I 'm a Jilt, a Fool, a gipsy, and— your humble Servant. She unmasques her self.  Fair. 
And thy own Mistress, Frank.  Wilm. 
The Devil rather come to torment me; he could never appear in a more hated Shape; but Madam, how dare you look in my Face again?  Clar. 
Why Sir, is there any thing dangerous in it?  Wilm. 
Don't you perceive it bent on mischief, and red in it an utter aversion to the whole Sex in general, and yourself in particular?  Cl. 
Your pardon Sir, I can see no such alteration; to me your Eyes appear as wanton as ever, your Blood as high and amorous; I am so far from thinking you an Enemy to our Sex, that rather than lose time I know you can condescend to trifle away an hour or two with the Maid, when the Mistress is not at leisure, that Maid, Sir, your hungry Footman has scorned to touch; I can bring proof sufficient to confirm what I say.  Wilm. 
And reason good, were all Men of my mind, you Ladies, proud stubborn Ladies, should starve and pine to death for want of what your Maids enjoy at full; the Pleasures they can give, I'm sure, would equal if not exceed what with such low submission, and slavish patience, we still sue to you for; they meet our Joys with equal vigour, and sit down sooner satisfied; Where's your fine trusty Squire, has he performed well to night, and cooled your wanton Blood, or only stirred it, inflamed it more, and raised your appetite; that's able to out-last the lusty service of a fat pampered Stallion?  Clar. 
Lord, Lord, how froward he is, for want of rest I warrant him, you'l do well to go home and sleep, Sir, it does not become you, a Gentleman of your full Occupations, compared with whose abilities, the Husbands grow loathsome to their Wives, for whom our longing Virgins spend all their hours in silent wishes; bless me, what a Treasure I have lost, such an handsome well shaped Man, made on purpose to fill a Lady's Arms, and withall so modest and so innocent, a little whifling School-boy knows more than he does. Tell me, Sir, and tell me truly, What encouragement did you ever give me to build my Faith upon your Love; could I with reason hope to find you true? I'd as soon hope it from a common Strumpet. Dare you who are a perfect Inventory of loose and lazy Pleasures tax my virtue with one thought of baseness?  Wilm. 
I doubt I have been a Fool, but dare not own it; she'l grow too haughty if I once submit.  Clar. 
You think me false; to show how much I scorn you I'll own I am, own that I have lain all this night in the kind Arms of thy more worthy Rival; see where he comes, with whom one happy hour can yield more Joys than all your Life can reach at.  Enter Flavia. Fair. 
A brisk Youth on my word, I pitty thee Frank, but he's a Bait the handsomest Lady need not scorn to catch at.  Flavia. 
Good luck, or bad, Madam. Aside to Clarinda.  Clar. 
Good, good, he yields, Girl, my life on't.  Wilm. 
Well, Pox on her, let her go, yet it vexes me that such a Snipper-snapper should win the day. Hark you Sir, I wish you much joy, you have had an happy night on't I hear, do you think you could hold out another; A Woman, Sir, a young wanton Woman, is a sort of stubborn Beast that requires both skill and strength to manage titely; How blue the Rogue looks under the Eyes!  Fl. 
Your words, Sir, seem to bear some meaning in 'em I'm not acquainted with; howe'er I hope she'l find me what she expected, true to her and love.  Cl. 
I find your Merits larger than my Wishes, all that my Youth deserved or Love e're hoped for.  Wilm. 
I shall grow mad anon. Madam I own you justly have preferred my Rival, and though, till lost, I never could conceive how much I loved you; yet had you given me leave to red you, to red that honest noble Spirit within you, that Excellence which would require whole Ages to scan o'er truly, and admire with justice, you might have cleared my Soul, made me confess that Men may love, and yet wear virtuous Minds.  Clar. 
Do so, and then be happy, I have won the day, and all the World shan't part us; nay start not Sir, I am yet as clear as truth, like Virgin Paper not one slain upon me, here's one I'm sure will stand to what I say; Madam, confess yourself.  Wilm. 
Flavia!  Flav. 
The same, that next to what I once desired equal to life, but now must never think of, is glad to see you what you are.  Wilm. 
That ever I should be such a blind Puppy to be deceived with all my Wisdom and Experience by a pair of Breeches! Wild-Fire take you, had I but found you out, I had so firk't you, so trounc'd your ladyship—  Fair. 
A pretty discovery this, indeed were I your ladyship I'd preserve 'em as a Trophy, an hundred years hence they'l be as much admired as King Harry's Godpice, or the Sword that conquered France.  Wilm. 
By my Manhood a perfect Bully; see Ned what an handsome Leg she has, and withall a fine promising Back, I wish you well, Madam, but if your Husband is not an able Man, I gad you'l throw him off the Saddle.  Flav. 
Well Sir, no more of this; you served me yesterday a scurvy trick, and I have gauled you for it: With these, which now I find begin to grow uneasy to me, I'll strive to lay aside all farther thoughts of Love, at least of you. Exit.  Cla. 
Mr. Fairly, I find my Cousin's Anger does still sit heavy on you; Trust me, she shall be yours, do but come home and see, how much the Knight has laboured for you.  Fair. 
Madam, we are both deceived, and I supplanted; for Belfont  told me, she received his Courtship with all the easiness of a yielding Maid, seemed pleased to hear him Speak, proud of his Praises, and granted more to him in one half hour, than my whole life could hope for.  Cla. 
This is designed, a very trap to catch you; Is she so quick, so full of Plots? I'll Plot her, led her a Dance shall make her crafty Heart ache, and on her Knees sue to be reconciled; this very morning it shall be done, it may be, give her Hand before the person: Sir Arthur is to furnish out a Consort to entertain us at his Uncle's; be you there and follow my directions, if I fail you—  Fair. 
'twill be a Sin to doubt you.  Enter Betty. Betty. 
O Madam, I'm glad I have found you, such News!  Cla. 
News! What News? Beshrew thy Heart thou hast frightened me.  Betty. 
Your Mother Madam, your scolding furious old Mother—  Cla. 
What of her? Art thou Mad?  Betty. 
Is come to Town with the Knight that is to be your Husband: She is as loud as a March Wind, and as angry as an old Coughing Magistrate; Two of her Horses are killed, and a Coach Wheel broken through hast by the way: When the Gentleman that brought my Lord the News left her, she was just got out of a muddy Pool, and cleaning her old Velvet Gown, that has scarce seen Sun these thirty years.  Cla. 
I hope some peaceable Man or other will lay hold of her, before she comes to her Journeys end, and confine her for a Mad Woman.  Betty. 
I fear Madam you are in more danger of being confined; for she protests unless you mary Sir Andrew, you shall die a beggar for any thing you are like to get in Warwickshire.  Cla. 
So Mr. Wilmot, you see Providence never designed us two to meet together in a Bed; She is a froward old Woman I can tell you that.  Will. 
Why, Madam, Are you in earnest?  Cla. 
Who can help it Sir? She has me under Lock and Key; I mean, the most substantial part of me, the Ten Thousand Pound; I'm sure you are more a Man than to take the Baggage without the Bag.  Wilm. 
Madam, you wrong my Love, I have enough for both.  Cla. 
Your Pardon Sir; I'll not tempt Fate so far, there are some hopes indeed a Woman may live Comfortable with her Husband, if she brings something to keep Love warm betwixt 'em; but otherwise I fear his Affections will cool faster than the Wedding Dinner— Nay, no more Promises and Protestations, you have won the Daughter, try now how you can prevail with the Mother: Let us home and consult my Lord; Come Mr. Fairly, who knows but we may all four meet in a Church before to morrow Noon yet.  Fair. 
You are all goodness, Madam.  Wilm. 
Well, if I do loose thee—  Clar. 
You'll bless your good fortune.  Wilm. 
I'll hang myself in one of thy Garters. Exeunt.   

SCENE II. Lord Goodland's House.  Enter Sir Arthur. Sir Arth. 
Well, Sir Arthur, thou art an happy Man; a Man of dispatch Gad, I never knew what I was good for before.  Enter Marina. Mari. 
My amorous Knight I see has Mew'd his Coat, and looks as stiff in his new Equipage, as a grave Ceremonious Gentleman Usher luckily married to his Amorous Lady: Do they then think to cure me by these means? I'll meet 'em in their Plots, and so confounded 'em, that they shall curse their own Inventions. ( Aside.)  Sir Ar: 
So, so, all this while now is she in a deep Contemplation of my Person; Her wonder has struck her Dumb; truth is, if she was so taken with me yesterday in my greasy Hat and broad Belt, How should she contain her self now, she views me in all my Glories? I'll make up to her. Madam, Th●s● bright beams of Love, which your Generosity threw upon my Unworthiness last night, have new Created me: You are the mirror of Perfection, the Burning Glass of Love, for like that your Beauties have contracted all my scattered Thoughts, which before were darted upon your whole Sex into one circled, and you are now the Center of my Hopes. I gad, and that's fine. ( Aside.)  Mar. 
O fie, Sir Arthur, this is the extremity of Gallantry; you make me blushy for want of an answer, though I confess, silence will best become me; for I had better say nothing at all than speak too much.  Sir Ar. 
Too much you never can, each Syllable you utter exceeds the music of the spheres.  Mar. 
I doubt, in the severity of your Wisdom, you'll tax my easiness, but who can help it? as the Play saith, None ever yet in Love were Wise.  Sir Ar. 
And all out on't are Fools: 'tis the Business of the young, and Comfort of the old; 'tis what we are born for, the very thread on which our lives depend; for whilst Love continues the Soul and Body together, we Live; when that ceases, we return to Nothing, Madam, mere Dust and Ashes.  Mar. 
Well Sir, for the present I must retire; I dare stay no longer, I hear my Father coming this way; he must not know I'm up so soon, nor would I have him see you here.  Sir Ar. 
Nay, I hope you'll grace our music this Morning?  Mar. 
An hour hence Sir, I'll not fail you.  Sir Ar, 
You'll much Honour me. ( Exit Marina.) Her Father! A lucky Thought's come into my Head; I reckon a little more Courtship will serve her turn; Suppose I apply myself to him, 'twill not be improper; he can object nothing against my Estate I'm sure, and 'tis that they say the old Folks chiefly mind.  Enter Lord Goodland. L. Goodl. 
My Sister indeed is so far in the right, they are never safe till well Married.  Sir Ar. 
My Lord, I am your Lordship's Servant.  L. Goodl. 
This is an early visit, indeed, Sir Arthur, What Business can call you out of your Bed so soon?  Sir Ar. 
A Business, my good Lord, that in time may keep me longer in it, with your Lordships good leave.  L. Goodl. 
With mine Sir? Pray be plainer, I shall never be wanting in any thing that may speak a Friends Mind.  Sir A. 
In confidence of which, my Lord, I'll proceed: Your Lordship has a Daughter, and can leave her a good Estate; my Father has left his Son a good one: I am very plain, my Lord; Now our Persons, and Estates, joined together, will do much better than asunder: I am young, she is handsome, and both think it unreasonable we should lye any longer without a Bed-fellow.  L. Goodl. 
This is plain indeed, Sir Arthur; and to speak the truth, I have nothing to object against your Proposals, if you can but persuade my Daughter to like' em.  Sir Ar. 
We are agreed already; Love has been long hatching betwixt us, though we knew not one anothers Minds till last night, at which time, like concealed Flames, it darted forth, and gave each an happy view of the others Soul.  L. Goodl. 
Can this be earnest? Or is he in a Dream? Surely she can never Love a Fool; Why not? Wise Men are out of Fashion with 'em now; Perhaps she has been  told, the Fool still proves the kindest Husband, besides a large Estate, which, with his Person she may hope to govern, will hid all Faults: I'll take him as a gift of Fortune, and ease my Fears. ( Aside.) Sir Arthur, you speak hearty, which shows an honest Mind; get but your Uncle's Consent, which, considering your dependence upon him, will be very necessary, and she is yours.  Sir Ar. 
That's as good as got already, my Lord; A Peer's Daughter! he'll never be against it; However, I'll take your Lordships Advice, and let him know what an Honour I am Born to. Exit.  L. Goodl. 
If Sir Simon will but settle his Estate upon him too, as I am  told he has designed, though I force her Inclinations a little, he shall be her Husband; 'tis true, my Sisters violence is no way commendable, yet if a Parent's Advice and Authority is requisite in the petty Businessess of Life, it must be more than necessary in a thing of so great Concern.  Enter Marina. Mar. 
I wonder where my Cousin can be all this while, I would not willingly go by myself; My Father here still!  L. Good. 
So early up, Marina; These are Lovers hours, whose busy Thoughts make their Sleep short and broken; Nay start not Daughter, I'm not come to chide you: Could you then hope a Business of such moment could long escape a careful Father's Ears. I know you are in Love, that blushy confesses it; nay come, no more Marina, you have got a Father's liking to confirm your choice.  Mar. 
I 'm amazed, but now 'twill be too late to hid my Thoughts, or trifle with his Knowledge. ( Aside.) I own it Sir, but by that Love I Swear, it never gave life to one vile Thought within me, or taught me to foregoe the fair Obedience I owe your Goodness.  L. Good. 
I do believe thee; thou knowest we have none amongst us but have some Faults, we should be more than Men else, he has his share, but yet a modest Mind may learn to pardon' em.  Mar. 
Sir, had he ten times more,( even them his Virtues would outweigh) so I might have your liking, I'd take him with 'em all.  L. Good. 
Thou art all Sweetness, and shalt ever find me a kind indulgent Father to thy Wishes; He wants indeed a little of the Air and Courtliness the Town so much admires; but he has that will make a Wife's Life easy; a good Estate my Girl, and would his Uncle, having no other Child to enjoy it, but add his to it, Sir Arthur's Purse would much out-weigh their Wit.  Mar. 
O Heavens, Sir Arthur! To what a misery has my unhappy ignorance betrayed me? Fool that I was, not to perceive before, my Father's Words could never aim at Fairly, whose Faults, if he has any, are so small, they might with ease escape an old Mans Eye. ( Aside.)  L. Good. 
A Business of such consequence must never be long delayed; I'll to Sir Simon's Lodgings, and try what may done; if I find his Pulse beat time to our Desires, this Week thou art a Bride.  Mar. 
This Week Sir, 'tis too soon.  L. Good. 
I know you are Modest, and loathe to lay aside that Name of Virgin, believe me, Wench, an honest Wife's a Nobler; my care of thy well-doing shall speak my Love. Exit.  Mar. 
'tis all too late, and my unhappy Anger has recoil'd back to work my own Destruction: O Fairly, Why was my Love so nice, or thine so forward?  Enter Clarinda. Clar. 
How now cousin, What in your Dumps? How does the Knight and you agree? I warrant you think this becomes you; Out upon't, a little Child that's Breeding Teeth would not be half so froward.  Mar. 
I must confess, 'tis fit you should be angry.  Clar. 
O is it so? Suppose my Servant like a valiant Knight, with a full Bumper in his Hand, maintains his Lady's worth against the boldest Drinker; must I forsooth think myself injured in it, as if his Glass had poisoned my fair Name, made it so loathsome that Bawds and Whores would scorn it?  Mar. 
Did you but know how miserable I am, you would dissolve your anger into pitty, I have held a Snake in my unguarded Hand so long till I am stung to death; my Father encouraged by that show of Love with which I met Sir Arthur's Courtship, has doomed me to his Arms—  Clar. 
How say you? No, that's carrying the jest too far, mary Sir Arthur? He is an ungracious old Man, if he offers it; my Mothers own Flesh and Blood I'll warrant him; when she comes up I'll have 'em both begged for a couple of unnatural old Fools; No I have a trick worth two of that; what say you cousin? we are both concerned; suppose we should be too nimble for their Gravities, and prevent' em? Mr. Fairly's to be had yet, and we shan't want opportunities this morning, by the Chaplain's assistance, of giving our Hands where our Hearts are.  Mar. 
No cousin, the Curse of Disobedience will attend such rash Attempts; Honour and Duty both forbids us to dispute a Parents right; something I'll do for love, but know not what; after Sir Arthur's music's over I'll tell you more.  Clar. 
Here's Fairly coming, stay and be reconciled.  Mar. 
Not yet, 'twill look unseemly. Exit.  Clar. 
Thou art an ungracious Girl, and were I Fairly I'd trouble myself no more about thee; Murrain take her, could I but have persuaded her to it, I had had my ends; for truth is, since I am in some danger of losing him, I find this Fellow Wilmot sticks more in my Head than I imagined; and could I have had her Company, I had made a sure Bargain on't; and put myself out of my Mothers reach, but I'll fit her for it, or my Wits shall fail me.  Enter Wilmot and Fairly. Wilm. 
Well, Madam, what hopes?  Clar. 
Why, at present I'm thinking—  Wilm. 
Of what?  Clar. 
That if I live till to morrow, I shall be a day older.  Wilm. 
And if not—  Clar. 
I shall die a Maid.  Wilm. 
Proper thoughts enough for one in your condition.  Fair. 
But Madam pardon my impatience, where's Marina?  Clar. 
Considering what mask she shall have at her Wedding; nay Sir, never start for the matter; you, like a whining Lover, must stand aloof, and let the bold Sir Arthur in the mean time attack her, board her in an instant, and now drive her like a prise before him.  Fair. 
Be plainer Madam, I understand you not.  Clar. 
I am sorry for it; know then, that whilst you played at bo-peep with the Daughter, he steered a safer Course, and applied himself to the Father; you may guess the rest, my Lord is a Discreet Man, and knows the Knight has got a good Estate.  Fair. 
Are then all my Hopes and your Promises come to this? I could rave like a Mad-man; but he shall never carry it so.  Clar. 
No, if he does, I'll die in a Nunnery.  Fair. 
But how—  Clar. 
Nay, no questions at present, unless I had more time to answer 'em; Go you home, I have a word or two for Betty's Ear, and will o're-take you, do you follow her Instructions, and leave the rest to me and Fortune.  
In spite of all their Arts we'll win the day.  Fair. 
You are Loves Oracle, and I'll obey.  Exeunt several. SCENE draws, and discovers the Lady Barter and Sir Arthur instructing his music. Lady Ba. 
Come, come cousin, you Lovers are so curious, were they to perform before the King, half these Instructions would have served.  Sir A. 
Madam, but one thing more, and we have done, be sure keep your Countenances. You fiddlers generally make worse Faces than Sir Martin; if your care in the performance, does but equal mine in the composure, I'm sure 'twill be very agreeable; And pretty Miss can you sing the Song I gave you?  Enter Marina. Mar. 
I thought to have met my cousin here, Sir Arthur.  Sir A. 
She'l not be long Madam, Mrs. Flavia went for her, till they come in, and let's have the Song.  

A Roundelau by Mr. Motteux.  
MAN is for Woman made,  
And Woman made for Man:  
As the Spur is for the Jade,  
As the Scabbard for the Blade,  
As for digging is the Spade;  
As for liquour is the Can,  
So Man's for Woman made,  
And Woman made for Man.  
As the sceptre to be swayed,  
As to Night the Serenade,  
As for Pudding in the Pan,  
As to cool us is the Fan,  
So Man's for Woman made,  
And Woman made for Man.  
Be she widow, Wife, or Maid,  
Be she wanton, be she stayed,  
Be she well or ill arrayed,  
Whore, Bawd, or Harrow-da  
So Man's for Woman made,  
And Woman made for Man.   When that is ended, Fairly enters leading in Clarinda Masqut, and Wilmot, Flavia. Fair. 
I now am happy, but tell me Madam, is't to your anger, or your love, or rather both, I owe this blessing? Ha! Are my Eyes open this Morning? Marina there and here too. Clarinda unmasques.  Clar. 
No Sir, but one that may do as well, if you'll but set your mind to it.  Wilm. 
How! Clarinda? who the Devil have I got then? Flavia unmasques.  Fla. 
An humble Lover, that was forced to make use of this snare—  Wilm. 
To catch a Woodcock, a fine Morning's work this, Fairly prithee let us change; thy mere has got the wrong Saddle.  Fair. 
I am all amazement, what could you propose in this Madam?  Clar. 
What I have obtained, a good Husband.  Sir Arth. 
How married!  Ly. B. 
married!  Wilm. 
married! married! Yes married, is that such a wonder? Zouns, they stare upon me as if I was a cuckolded already.  Ly. B. 
Tho he is lost, this disappointment is some Satisfaction to me. Aside.  Wilm. 
This 'tis for a Man to leave his lawful vocation of Whoring, what a plague had I to do with Wedlock.  Fair. 
Is this your Remedy Madam? you have now thrown me past all cure.  Clar. 
You can't tell Sir, we are not the first that met upon compulsion.  Mar. 
My miseries are now completed. Aside.  Ly. B. 
Bless me Mr. Wilmot, you'l have the Lord knows what with your Bride, her aunt will be extravagantly kind, old Bonds and Leases in abundance, besides her Husbands old clothes.  Wilm. 
Has she ever an halter for me too?  Ly. B. 
And an old cradle for the first Child, Heir apparent to all her Apostles Spoons and Diaper Napkins.  Fla. 
You are wondrous civil, Madam.  Sir Arth. 
To my thinking you are not so merry as Men in your condition should be, what! a couple of Weddings and not a dance? You are obliged to my care, I have provided some music for you, you'll be brisker at night I hope; Mr. Fairly, I am sorry for your disappointment, but who can help it, this Lady's Stars were against you; Marriages you know are made in Heaven.  Fair. 
Dull blockhead, am I become his scorn too?  Sir Arth. 
Had you given us timely notice, perhaps we might have born you company too, to make the pair Royal.  Mar. 
No, Sir, I would have Wedded to my Grave first: Did I want his impertinence to show me how much I have lost?  Sir Arth. 
Ha! is all her kindness come to this?  Mar. 
I had rather choose a knot of Adders, mingle with Aspicks, or be confined to a Bed of Toads.  Fla. 
Ha, ha, what think you of a pair Royal, Sir Arthur; these are hard words.  Sir Arth. 
Hard enough to break my heart, but Madam—  Mar. 
Stand off, my breath shall blast you else; unkind Clarinda, did this become your friendship?  Clar. 
It became my Wisdom, however, if you'll do as we have done, the Gentlemen without, will say grace to you too, come Sir, come in.  Enter Roger in a Black gown. Fair. 
The first of all his function I have cause to hate.  Clar. 
Nay Sir, pray be covered.  Roger. 
Not in my Master's presence Madam.  Wilm. 
How Roger! that I should know a Pimp from a person.  Clar. 
If a Mock Marriage has thus discomposed you, what can you expect from a real one?  Wilm. 
Why that was it, had we been rightfully and orderly joined together in the fear of the Lord, it would have done.  Fair. 
Madam, I am much beholden to your wit, you have eased my fears, and this Lady is pleased to be reconciled.  Mar. 
But Sir, there are more difficulties behind, my Father—  Clar. 
No more of that, 'twill make the Knight prick up his Ears again, I'll make him pay for what he has done already, your Father's an old Man, and must be ruled. Sir Arthur, take courage, this is but a turn of Fortune; follow me home, I have a Plot in my head shall set all right again.  Sir Arth. 
Madam, I 'll attend you; besides my Uncle is at work for me, who has promised her a thundering jointure, and the Devil's in't if that wo'n't do.  
For the wise tell us, that alone can move,  
Sooner than all the rhetoric of Love.  
Come with full hands, if with success you'd woe,  
'tis ready money makes the mere to go.    

ACT V.  

SCENE I. Goodland's House.  Enter Wilmot and Fairly Wilm. 
Nay, prithee Ned bear thyself more like a Man.  Fair. 
Man I shall be a disgrace to the Name, if I sit down thus tamely, and let him bear her off before my face; I wear a Sword—  Wilm 
Prithee wear a little discretion too, 'twill become thee better.  Fair. 
Bumsidel'd by a Fool, she is lost for ever, see where she comes, all bathed in Tears, till now I never was in love with sorrow.  Enter Mariana. Mar. 
O Sir, all's past, my Father's deaf to all my prayers, just now the Lawyer was sent for to draw the Writings.  Fair. 
Or rather sign a Warrant for my execution.  Wilm. 
And you are making a whining speech before hand.  Mar. 
All I can say but hastens on my ruin, he vows before to morrow's Sun is set, I shall be Sir Arthur's Wife, or no more call him Father.  Wilm. 
Suppose you acquaint him with Mr. Fairly's pretensions Madam.  Mar. 
I did so, but 'twas in vain; Sir Arthur and his uncle have both his word, which he'll not break.( Enter Clarinda.) O Cozin what's to be done.  Clar. 
What you might have done I  told you, but what's now to be done is past my kaowledge,; nothing vexes me, but that we should be overreached by a fool.  Wilm. 
Your only remedy Madam, now, will be patience—  Clar. 
And repentance; I hope hearty she'll make him a cuckolded when she has him; what think you Mr. Wilmot? You see our Stars have designed us both for Foolish Husbands.  Wilm. 
I confess she has set you an ill example, but I hope you have more grace than to follow it.  Clar. 
But my Mother—  Wilm. 
Is a Transitory old Woman; that to day is, and to morrow is not; would you betray yourself, and the pleasures of Youth, to the humours of her doteage?  Clar. 
Do but something then, that may make me in love with your wit, some pretty contrivance or other to break of this match, and I'll adore you, otherwise I have vowed to follow her fortunes.  Wilm. 
'tis a rash vow, and ought not to be kept, what would you have me do?  Clar. 
If I could tell, I would save your brains the labour of thinking.  Wilm. 
I may as well hope to live upon rarifi'd air.  Clar. 
I can't help it.  Wilm. 
Did one ever hear the like; do you take me for a Conjurer, if you set me to show you a Trick or two, eat Fire, swallow a Knife, or the like, there might be some hopes, but this is a case—  Clar. 
Your Wits are lost in; however, you know my mind, and will find me obstinate.  Fair. 
Madam, we are obliged to your care, though I fear all will prove in vain; and yet, as long as I wear a Sword, I can't despair, Love and this will do much.  Clar. 
Have better thoughts in you; here comes the jolly Bridegroom.  Enter Sir Arthur. Sir Ar. 
She's a peevish fool, and shall pay for it when she's Married, ha! all these together; I don't like that, there is some Plot in the Wind I am afraid; that Fairly looks as surly as a Beef-eater, and yet when we are once married, I shall be more afraid of Wilmot.  Clar. 
Nay, come Sir Arthur, don't let us disturb you.  Wilm. 
We are teaching your Mistress how to carry her self against the Wedding.  Sir Ar. 
Pray God he does not teach her any carriage after it. aside. Madam, your Father calls for you.  Mar. 
I'll wait upon him.  Sir Ar. 
Shall I attend you?  Mar. 
The plague rather. Exit.  Sir Ar. 
Say you so; she has a desperate Tongue of her own, and that is an ill sign, for they who are so free of that, are generally so of something else, and run proud at both ends: But hang't, I'll mary first, and consider of that afterwards.  Clar. 
I vow, Sir Arthur, you'll be happy to an infinite degree, she uses you as familiar already as if you had been married these six months.  Fair. 
But, Sir, do you think to carry it thus?  Sir Ar. 
Carry what? Does any one know what the Gentleman means?  Wilm. 
To make you a cuckolded if you dare mary, stab you with your Wives Bodkin it may be, or stifle you in a Sack Posset.  Sir Ar. 
Good lack, would one think it? But pray, Sir, don't be angry, for I vow to God 'tis none of my seeking, marriage and hanging they say—  Fair. 
Come together sometimes, Sir, look to't.  Sir Ar. 
What mean you Sir?  Fair. 
To cut your Throat.  Sir Ar. 
spoken like a friend; but I can't stay to thank you now, business makes me a little unmannerly at present, ha, ha, ha; however, I invite you all to my Wedding, Gentlemen; and so I take my leave. Exit.  Enter Belfont. Wilm. 
O, Harry, thou art come at a wish, here have been such strange doings, I have been married and unmarried again, Man, since I saw thee last.  Clar. 
What would half the married People in England give they could part so easily?  Belf. 
It's an ill example, and should not be encouraged; but I have heard of all, and, Ned, I pity thy misfortune.  Fair. 
Your pity is all I can expect now, for we are past every thing else.  Wilm. 
Belfont, thou knowest I  told thee to day of a discovery Roger made, can't thy hot Brain draw something from thence?  Belf. 
Ha! aptly considered, a little pains may shape it into a good design: Ned, take courage, the Town's not lost yet, I have a stratagem forming in my head that may rout them all at last.  Fair. 
At least I shall be indebted to your friendship.  Belf. 
You say, Wilmot, you know her.  Wilm. 
Her Father was my Coachman, till for his troublesone zeal, being a violent Precisian, I discharged him; I am sure a little Money will gain her.  Belf. 
I am glad on't; what we before designed for our mirth, may, if rightly managed, come attended with profit.  Clar. 
Mr. Wilmot, I see your Brains are in labour, I wish you an easy deliverance.  Wilm. 
The prospect of the reward will make all things easy.  Clar. 
If it succeeds we'll be merry, and have a Dance in Masquerade: Mr. Fairly, you  told me—  Fair. 
I have them ready Madam.  Clar. 
Every one to their proper business then, I hear them coming this way; we must not be seen thus altogether, 'twill create suspicion.  Fair. 
spite of their Arts I may prevail ere Night,  
Since on my side both Wit and Beauty fight. Ex. omnes praeter Clar.  Enter Lord Goodland, Marina, Sir Arthur, and a Lawyer. L. G. 
Are the Writings drawn, say you?  Law. 
They are, my Lord, according to your Lordship's Order.  L. G. 
And her Portion to be settled on her younger Children?  Law. 
Yes my Lord.  L. G. 
Well, we want nothing but Sir Simon's hand then: Sir Arthur, I see you are busy with your Mistress, she's a little froward at first, like a wanton bide newly confined to a Cage, impatient of restraint, but you'll quickly learn to break her.  Sir Ar. 
I shall do my endeavour my Lord.  L. G. 
Daughter no more, you'll prove a shane and sorrow to my Age, and make me wish I ne'er had been a Father.  Mar. 
Good Sir, don't you by your unnatural severity make me doubt, whether or no I have a Child's interest in your affections.  L. G. 
Go, go, you know not when you are well.  Mar. 
But Sir, to sacrifice me to a fool—  L. G. 
There will be a couple of you well met if he is so.  Enter Sir Simon. Sir S. 
O, Cousin, are you here? My Wife  told me you was gone to Mr. Mortgages Chamber.  Sir A. 
I met him, Sir, my Lord had sent for him before.  L. G. 
Come, Sir Simon, your hand, and the rest my Chaplain shall finish.  Sir S. 
I know no reason why we might not make an end of all together this morning.  Sir A. 
No, good Sir, stay till to morrow, I must make a Song or two against the good hour; Besides, I have a design in my head for a mask, and I can't get all ready so soon.  Sir S. 
fie, Cousin, they are trifles may be dispensed with.  L. G. 
No, Sir, let him have his Will; besides, I expect my Sister to Night, she'll be a merry Guest amongst us.  Clar. 
Come, come, dry your Tears; Fortune may change, and work Miracles for you before to morrow. aside to Marina.  Mar. 
O, 'tis impossible; she's constant in her malice.  Enter Belfont. Clar. 
Mr. Belfont, I red Success in your Face.  Belf. 
Madam, you are in the right: I have brought a couple of Guests to the Wedding will prove very unwelcome to Sir Arthur, an old Miss of his, and her Mother, that may chance to forbid the Banes.  Clar. 
I like your Plot well; it has some life in it: But how came you to bring 'em so soon?  Belf. 
Wilmot's Rogue of a Boy, for the sake of a little Mischief, had prepared 'em before hand: I met 'em at the Gate, and only fortified 'em with a few more Instructions.  Enter Sarah and her Mother. Moth. 
Where is that Man of Sin, that Vessel of Uncleanness?  star. 
With his bewitching Rachel, that would rob me of my Help-meet.  Sir. A. 
' Oons! how came these here?  Moth. 
That Whore of Babylon, Pitfall of Iniquity, and Lake of Perdition.  Clar. 
This is an excellent Dialect. aside to Belfont.  L. G. 
What would these People have?  Moth. 
Friend, we are come to seek a stray Sheep, a backsliding Zimri—  Sarah. 
Going to take to his unfaithful Bosom one of the Daughters of Canaan.  Moth. 
Whose carnal Mind, sated with the heavenly Manna, longs after the Egyptian Flesh-pots.  Mar. 
This is indeed a pleasant Scene.  L. G. 
Does any one know these Creatures?  Moth. 
Yea, verily, that Son of Perdition, who having won to his embraces the Daughter of my Bosom, promised to take her to Wife in the face of the Congregation; and lo! now he leaveth her like an unholy thing.  L. G. 
Sir Arthur, she seems to direct her Discourse to you; do you know her?  Sir Ar. 
Know her my Lord? yes, a little. No, my Lord, I never saw her in my life before.  Moth. 
Friend, I say unto thee, he has seen us both, and knows my Daughter; yea verily, the time is almost accomplished since first he knew her.  star. 
As the dumb Babe I now go withal can testify against him.  Belf. 
See, Madam, how Sir Simon foams.  Clar. 
He has gaped twice; he'll speak anon.  Sir Sim. 
aside.] Thô this Woman's Confidence, and my Nephew's Confusion, persuade me she is right, this is no time proper for my anger; perhaps a little Money may make all up again. hark you, Woman, who set you on to do this?  Moth. 
Nothing but the Truth, to which my Conscience beareth Testimony.  Sir Sim. 
Let me tell you, you don't take the right course of helping yourselves; a word with you.  Belf. 
Methinks, Sir Arthur, you are not so kind as you should be to an old Acquaintance, one you must needs know; she has your mark stamped upon her.  Clar. 
Indeed Sir, you are an happy man; you'll beget Sons and Daughters in abundance, that will be all Prophets and Teachers.  Belf. 
'twas very lucky thô, that she should come just in the neck of time; had she stayed but a day longer, she had lost you: Nay, Man, why so reserved? go, go, salute her with an holy kiss; see, she expects it.  Sir Ar. 
Salute her with an horse-whip rather, I'm sure she deserves it.  L. G. 
aside.] Thô there may be something in this, yet I smell a Plot, which they shall find too weakly laid.  Sir A. 
My Lord, may I never have the Honour of calling your Lordship Father, if ever I saw her above once in my life; and then I was so drunk that I could not stand.  Moth. 
Thy Money perish with thee, thou seed of Antichrist; wouldst thou have me sell the Truth for that which perisheth like the Dung of the Earth? No, do us Justice, or else expect judgement, which now I denounce against thee.  L. G. 
Nay, Mistris, you must not be loud: Thô I know all this to be a lie, yet to silence you, I'll present your Daughter with 500 l. and if, as you say, she is with child, I'll settle an yearly hundred more upon that; and now after all their Arts, Sir Arthur, I hope to morrow to see you married to your own Content.  Mar. 
My Lord—  L. G. 
Peace; I am inexorable.  Mar. 
And I undone. Exit.  Moth. 
Thy words have the sweet Savour of Godliness in 'em: See the Money paid, and we are satisfied.  L. G. 
This Afternoon, my Steward shall content you.  Belf. 
damned mercenary Jade. Ex. Mother and Sarah.  Cl. 
Well, I have one Plot more, and if that fails me, I'll give over. aside.  L. G. 
Cousin, you see how stubborn my Daughter is, blinder than Fortune herself, which with an open and liberal hand seems to court her. Is there no way of winning her? You, I believe, are acquainted with her Thoughts better than I am.  Clar. 
Something to divert them a little, my Lord, might do much; you know she loves dancing well; some Neighbours without beg leave of your Lordship to present you with a Dance or two in Masquerade: It's an innocent Request, and I hope your Lordship will grant it.  L. G. 
With all my heart; any thing to soften her.  Clar. 
Within this half hour, Sir, they'll be ready: Mr. Belfont, a word with you.  L. G. 
Sir Simon, come, I'll make good my Promise to this Woman. Your Nephew is never the worse man for this Slip; a light touch of Youth: The best of Trees have their Blossoms before the Fruit appears: Time and Experience will blow it off.  Sir Sim. 
I hope your Lordship will have no cause to repent of your Generosity.  Belf. 
aside to Clar.) I admire your wit, Madam; I'll give them their Instructions immediately. Exit.  L. G. 
The young people here are preparing a small Entertainment for us, a Dance or two; we'll give 'em way a little, our Company may disturb' em.  Sir Sim. 
I'll follow your Lordship. Exeunt.  Clar. 
Sir Arthur, you look on yourself as secure now.  Sir A. 
As Friends and Fortune can make me.  Clar. 
Do you think my Cousin and Fairly have no Plots remaining.  Sir A. 
None worse than the last.  Clar. 
See how you are deceived now; for know, Sir, that within this hour they design to be married, in spite of all you, your Uncle, or my Lord can do: But since I first encouraged you in this Business, I reckon my honour as much engaged as yours, and will therefore teach you how to meet 'em in their own Devices, and so ensnare 'em, that you shall put it out of their power to plot ever after.  Sir A. 
Dear Madam, let me adore you.  Clar. 
Be patient a little; you know we are to have a mask presently: Now whilst all the rest are busy at their Sports, they are to draw off, and by the Chaplain's Assistance, who is of their Party, be knit so fast together, that all my Lord's Fury and Policy will never be able to separate them: This I had of Belfont just now, who thinks me a Friend to their Purposes. Now, Sir Arthur, what Tricks to prevent' em?  Sir A. 
Tricks Madam, a thousand; I'll give my Lord warning of it before-hand.  Clar. 
That's not so well: For if they fail of this, they have such fruitful Inventions, that ten to one but they find out another before Night, and make sure work at last: Nothing to countermine 'em, and blow all their Imaginations about their Ears?  Sir A. 
I can think of no surer Remedy, than what I have proposed.  Clar. 
It's a sign you are in Love, your Thoughts move so heavily. I'll tell you then. Suppose you should step into Fairly's place, and put the Change upon Marina? This is a piece of Wit would force your way to her affections.  Sir A. 
But Madam, is this practicable?  Clar. 
Nothing easier; I sent word by Belfont to Fairly, That Mariana would appear in a Turkish rest, and advised him to be dressed like an Indian: Now, to deceive 'em both, I'll tell her 'tis Fairly's desire she should come in like a Shepherdess, and that he himself would make choice of an Huntsman's Habit.  Sir A. 
Now, Madam, I understand you; I have her in view, and if I lose the Scent, may Actaeon's Fate be mine.  Clar. 
I 'm glad you are so quick of Apprehension: Go, you must be as quick as you can.  Sir Arth. 
With equal Plots I'll meet their Plots, and fit  
A Woman's cunning with a Womans wit. Exit.  Enter Betty. Bet. 
Madam, my Lady Marina would speak with you.  Clar. 
I am for her, and do you follow Betty; I have been a long time in your debt, and if all you  told me this morning is true, I may chance before night to acquit myself, if you'll be ruled by me.  Bet. 
In any thing, Madam, you may command me.  Clar. 
That's well said, come along then, I see the maskers coming, I'll be amongst 'em presently. Exeunt.  Enter Lord Goodland, Sir Simon with Fairly, Wilmot, Belfont, Lady Barter, Landlady, Flavia, and several Dancers, all in different Habits. L. Good. 
Gentlemen and Ladies you much honour my house; I have some young people within, will not be long from you.  Sir Sim. 
Certainly these Gambols were first invented by some Whoremaster or other; a man can't know his own Wife, if she be amongst' em.  Wilm. 
Surely that must be my Landlady, I should know her by the shake of her head; pray Madam what does your fancy aim at in your habit; it looks mighty Majestical.  Land. 
Nothing under a Goddess, I'll assure you. Sir.  Wilm. 
Goody Ceres, I believe in quest of her unlucky daughter.  Land. 
If I was so, you'd be the first I should suspect for the Ravisher.  Wilm. 
Now I should rather take you, for an old Usurer's Wife, that under the covert of a mask, have ventured to make one sally more out into the World, to view in others, the Sinful pleasures of your past youth, or a Court Bawd, come to debauch our Wives and Daughters, and rob our Markets to supply your Courtiers tables.  Land. 
And what are you, a Citizen's Fore-man, that presuming upon your Mistrisses familiarity, have made bold with your Master's Wardrobe, through the vanity of appearing once in your life in a Character, to which you were never born; and which like a Player, you must within this half hour resign?  Ly. Bar. 
By your giddy Fantastical dress, I more than half believe you are a French Monsieur, singling out some Lady in the company to be civil to.  Wilm. 
No, faith Madam, I am a plain downright English Cavalier, that would fain be civil to 'em all.  Sir Sim. 
Now, for ought I know, that may be my Wife yonder, and the fellow talking to her, a lewd young Whoremaster.  Enter Sir Arthur on one side, on the other Clarinda, Marina and Betty. Clar. 
There he is, succeed and be happy.  Sir Arth. 
Let me look about a little, there's my Shepherdess, but where's the Indian? O, I see him; poor fool, how his wits are rambling after the Turkish Lady; I must confess I am but little better than an Infidel to serve a Christian thus, but charity they say, first begins at home.  Bet. 
Sir, Sir, this way lies your game, are not you Mr. Fairly?  Sir Arth. 
Yes Child, the very same.  Bet. 
I can't but think how neatly we shall deceive that Fool, Sir Arthur; yonder he is they say, in the Indian habit.  Sir Arth. 
mary, he'll never have the heart to appear abroad again, in his own shape, after so signal a disappointment.  Bet. 
I'll desire my Lord to call for a Dance, and then led you the way, I'll follow you.  Sir Arth. 
aside.) How infinitely am I obliged to Madam Clarinda! Well, this is such an excellent trick! Pray Heaven I contain myself before the person.  Exit followed by Betty. L. G. 
Come Gallants, you that are no Dancers, make room for those that are.  Belf. to Clar. 
Has the bait took Madam?  Clar. 
I warrant him unable to do any more mischief for the future,  Sir Arth. 
Gentlemen and Ladies, be it known unto all present; that I Sir Arthur Stately in the County of Warwick, Baronet, have taken to be my Wedded Wife, this noble Lady; now whether it was with or without your consent, Madam, it matters not; however I hope you'll own you have been out-plotted; and that you have got a Wit for your Husband, and beg at once a blessing and pardon from my Lord. ( She unmasques.) Cheats! Plots! Murders and Massacres! I am not married, never was married, and never will be married.  Bet. 
Your Pardon, Sir, I can bring Witnesses who saw you give your hand to the Priest.  Sir A. 
They are all Heathen Rogues that say so he is no Priest, he is a Papist, a Monk, a friar, a Jesuit; he is the Devil's Confessor; or, now I think on't, he is Mr. Wilmot's Man Roger.  Bet. 
My Lord best knows that, Sir; he has had the Honour of being his Chaplain these six years.  L. G. 
Why, Sir Arthur, what can be the meaning of this? Are you mad?  Sir A. 
No, but I am married, and that is ten times worse.  Clar. 
Married, Sir? You jest sure.  Sir A. 
Ah! are you there? You have thrown a pretty blind Bargain upon my hands, I thank you; a Huntsman's Coat! a Fool's Coat: For your sake, I'll never trust a Woman again, but when she's asleep.  Mar. 
This is a miraculous Deliverance.  L. G. 
I find, Sir Arthur, your own distrust and too forward care has ruined you.  Sir Sim. 
Thô I have no Heir of my own, Cousin, to inherit my Estate, there are many others that will better deserve it, than the servile Issue of a Chamber-maid.  Sir A. 
So, I have not been married this half hour, and yet I find the Blessings of Wedlock coming thick upon me already.  Fairl. 
Why, Sir Arthur, who could think you would steal a Wedding thus? Here are some Friends amongst us, might have made up a Pair-Royal for Company sake, had you given us timely notice.  Clar. 
Come, come, Sir Simon, show yourself a Wise man to day, and to morrow I'll convince you that she's a better Wife than your Nephew deserves.  L. G. 
Mr. Fairly, I know your inclinations; take her, and with her an Old man's Blessing: Nothing but my obligations to Sir Arthur, stood betwixt you and your desires before: May you still lie upon the Downy Beds of Peace and Plenty, and know no Cares to interrupt your Joys.  Wilm. 
Now am I villainously afraid to put you in mind of your Promise, for fear you should be as good as your Word.  Cl. 
No, don't try; For I doubt I have engaged myself for more than I shall be willing to pay.  Wilm. 
Say you so? what if we compound then, and instead of a long, tedious, uneasy Life, be content with what a Month or two can give.  Cl. 
No, Sir, That's like paying the Debt, without taking any Acquittance.  L. C. 
Come, Cousin; I wish my Sister was here, to join your hands; for the present I'll supply her place: Doubt not her Consent; I have a Secret for her Ear will draw it from her.  B●lf. 
Well, I see which way you are both going; and, as I have been hitherto the Companion of your Fortunes, could I get this Lady's Consent, I would still attend you.  L. G. 
How, my Landlady's niece; consider, Harry, thou art a Gentleman.  Belf. 
Were I an Emperor, she would be the richest Jewel in my Crown.  Landl. 
Come, I know her mind; she can never part from so good Company.  Flav. 
Well, Sir, I must be governed by my Aunt, thô now the Name dyes with her Authority: For know, Sir, my right Name is lovel, a Name well known in the West of England; the occasion of my Disguise, I can scarce confess without Blushes: I had often seen Mr Wilmot at the Bath, and must own I loved him; 'twas that drew me to London, with a Design of offering him my Person and a considerable Fortune, if his behaviour had any ways encouraged me to hope he would accept it; but I now perceive his Stars had pointed him out a nobler Choice.  Belf. 
Or rather, mine, to complete my happiness, reserved you for me.  Wilm. 
Madam, I hope your Goodness will pardon those Incivilities my Ignorance forced me upon.  Fla. 
They are too small to stand in need of any Apology.  L. G. 
Come, I can red in all your Faces what your Desires are; go in, and let my Chaplain make 'em lawful.  L. Bart. 
To my thinking, Mr. Wilmot, you look like a condemned Malefactor, that, just before Execution, is going to give the Spectators an account of the Sins which brought him to that unlucky end.  Wilm. 
No, Madam, I am admiring what it should be, that, considering my natural Inclinations, could keep me so long from it.  Fairl. 
In fancied Joys our Vigorous Youth we lose,  
And empty Shadows for the Substance choose:  
Wanton we rove, and in variety  
fond conceive Love's noblest Treasures ly.  
But when experienced years have turned the Stream,  
And Wisdom raised us from our golden Dream,  
Then we confess, t'insure a happy Life,  
No Blessing's equal to a Virtuous Wife.  Exeunt omnes   
FINIS.