THE DISAPPOINTMENT OR THE Mother in Fashion. A PLAY As it was ACTED AT THE THEATRE ROYAL. WRITTEN BY THOMAS SOUTHERNE.  
— Neque tu divinum Aeneada tenta,  
said longè sequere,& vestigia semper adora.  Stat. 
LONDON: Printed for Jo. Hindmarsh, Bookseller to his Royal Highness, at the Black Bull in cornhill. 1684.   

TO THE RIGHT honourable JAMES Earl of OSSORY.  
MY LORD,  
THe imputation that lies on Dedications, is general: and wehther the ill nature of the Age has traduced the honest intentions of the Writers; or they, by their fulsome corruptions, to their own wrong, having justly fixed the Scandal upon themselves, your Lordship may determine: This I believe, a Poet may praise his Patron out of countenance, and a Lover look his Mistris into the confusion of a blushy, and with as little Wit on one hand, as Passion on t' other. The fear of falling under the Justice of this censure, has awed me: and nothing, but the zeal of confessing myself, every way your Servant,( having hardly scaped the venture of the Stage) could persuade me to throw myself, for a forgiveness, upon a second trial of the Town. The reason of my cause has hardened me against the malice of detraction, and over-ruled my fears to a Dedication. The Name of Ossory, I know, will draw every Reader into an expectation of a panegyric; and not to rage under the inspiration of that Theme, is grossness, and brutal stupidity, to be shunned of all the World; and here unpardonable, as would be my impudence, should I undertake it. The virtues of your famous Ancestors, my Lord, live fresh among us; and while the English Chronicle survives, the Ormond worth can never be forgotten; your Grandfather, in every glorious Action, through the whole Story, must begin the page., shine out, and show the leading hero there. Fortune has once been just, and joining with the wishes of all good men, contrived to make the Happiness of your Lordships life, answer the Quality of your House; and to the Nobility of your Birth( made yet more noble by the accession of your Father's Glories)( which you of right inherit, and which your forward virtue, this Summer promises to maintain) provided you a Lady, whom Nature, in the profusion of her bounty, seems to have made, and only meant for you; to share that greatness, which only Descent, virtue, Wit, and Beauty, like hers, could deserve. My Lord, you are now launched out into the Ocean of this life; and may prosperous gales, and smiling Summer Seas attend you: may your course be steady; still pointing to that genuine Loyalty( the natural virtue of your Family) which your Forefathers nobly tried, and found the only Goal of Glory: these, with my Prayers for your long life, and happy, safe return, are the constant, and shall be the daily wishes of  
My Lord, Your Lordships entirely faithful Humble Servant, Tho. southern.   

Dramatis Personae.  

Alphonso, Husband to Erminia. Mr. Betterton.  
Lorenzo, Friend to Alphonso. Mr. Smith.  
Alberto, a general Undertaker. Mr. Wiltshire.  
Lesbino, his Friend. Mr. Carlisle.  
Rogero, Father to Angelline. Mr. Leigh.  
Erminia, Wife to Alphonso. Mrs. Cook.  
Juliana, a slighted mistress of Alberto's. Mrs. Percival.  
Angelline, Rogero's Daughter. Mrs. Knight.  
Her supposed Mother. Mrs. Corey.  
Clara, Erminias Woman. Mrs. Leigh.   Scene Florence.  

THE DISAPPOINTMENT, OR THE Mother in Fashion.  

ACT I.  

SCENE I.  Albertus Dressing. 

A SONG written by the Honourable Colonel Sackvile.  

I Never saw a face till now,  
That could my Passion move:  
I liked, and ventured many a Vow,  
But durst not think of Love,   

Till Beauty, charming every sense,  
An easy Conquest made;  
And shew'd the vainness of defence,  
Where Phyllis does invade.   

But Oh! her colder Heart denies  
The thoughts, her looks inspire;  
And while in Ice that frozen lies,  
Her Eyes dart only fire.   

Betwixt extremes I am undone,  
Like plants too Northward set;  
Burnt by too violent a Sun,  
Or chilled for want of heat.    Alber. 
THe World may laugh at these laborious follies,  
That wear away the Day; And so may I,  
When my full veins are ebbing into Time;  
When Age shall level me to Impotence;  
And fleeting pleasure leaves me on the foil:  
Then I may turn a true Diogenes,  
snarl at the pleasures that I cannot taste,  
Despise the gallantrys of Youth and Love,  
And in my Tub grow nasty for my ease.  Enter Lesbino. Lesb. 
Good morrow to your Lordship.  Alb. 
O my Friend!  
The sight of thee, awakens the remembrance  
Of all those pleasures we have passed together.  Lesb. 
I think the Roman Antony, in the rage  
Of his luxurious Appetite, nay, when  
He made the highest Sacrifice to Sense;  
ne'er ranted Flesh and Blood as we have done:  
Such Scenes of Wit! Such hours of Love and Wine!  Alb. 
O my Lesbino! Thou remember'st all!  
Once at a Feast, when fair Panthea, crowned  
The Queen of Love, sate smiling on her Throne;  
We humbly offered up our Vows; and straight  
Beauty descended in a thousand Charms:  
Selina's passion languished in her Eyes,  
And thou wert caught;  
Corrinna's music triumphed o'er the Sphere,  
And over me: So all were happy made:  
But then the jealous Goddess, from her seat  
Flew to our Arms, and there was better pleased.  Lesb. 
Yet this was censured!  Alb. 
Only by Clarinda,  
Whose virtue ne'er appeared, but in her pride:  
Whom I have since enjoyed, with the dear thought,  
Of leaving her to my Contempt and Scorn.  Lesb. 
Ah yes! there have been Days!  Alb. 
Have been! there are:  
This day, to morrow, every day shall bawd  
To our desires.  Lesb. 
The Regiments are marching,  
And I must post to my Command to morrow.  Alb. 
So suddenly! what Danger presses us?  Lesb. 
Only a City-Plot: Curse on their politic Noddles,  
They've Brains enough to keep their Foreheads safe;  
They cry the Soldier's surfeited with ease,  
The tokens of foul lechery appear—  Alb. 
On their own Wives and Daughters:  Lesb. 
And out of Christian Charity to themselves,  
And to prevent the growth of Cuckoldom,  
At their expense they physic the whole Camp,  
And make a War, only to let us blood.  Alb. 
And thou hast not a vein, that thou wouldst spare  
From old Rogero's Daughter: have I touched you?  Lesb. 
Faith with wonder, to hear her mentioned here:  
I thought her Birth, concealed her from all eyes.  Alb. 
If among common pebbles, wee should find  
A Diamond pave our way, 'twere quickly seen.  Lesb. 
You know her then?  Alb. 
And know her to be mine:  
O I am the Columbus of that World,  
And will grow rich in Beauty: powerful Gold  
Has broken the Quarry up: And now Lesbino,  
I have a Mother working in the Mine.  Lesb. 
What! make a Mother Bawd to her own Child?  Alb. 
O none so fit in Nature, the best knows  
The constitution of her Daughters blood:  
How high her pulses beat, remembers too  
Which way the Devil danced, when she was young,  
And there can play him now.  Lesb. 
My Lord! I am pleased the Lot is fallen on you;  
You'l keep the Sex in action: when we come  
hacked from the field, to find our Women right,  
Under good Discipline, and Easiness,  
Is all the Christian comfort of a soldier.  Alb. 
O! this is but the opening of the Scene  
That shows my Triumph. Thou shalt know it all.  
No answer of my Letter?  Servant. 
None my Lord.  Alb. 
Attend without. Exit Servant.  
Twas to Alphonso's house.  Lesb. 
Not to his Wife?  Alb. 
Suppose it were!  Lesb. 
Do you expect an Answer?  Alb. 
I grant a Virgins modesty may blushy,  
And start at her own wishes: But a Wife,  
A high-fed, wanton, understanding Wife,  
That knows how Beauty in a Husbands arms,  
Like treasure rusting in a Misers Chests,  
Lies unenjoy'd, yet coveted by all:  
For such a Wise secure on every hand,  
From jealousy at home, and tongues abroad,  
Youth in her veins, and Wishes in her heart,  
That knows the price of opportunity:  
For her to trifle out the hours of Love,  
In coy denials, is beyond my Creed.  Lesb. 
But Sir, report speaks loudly of her virtue.  Alb. 
Why virtuous let her be to all the World,  
To easy Husbands, and believing Fools:  
For me I'm settled in my Faith: I've made  
A study of the Sex, and found it frail:  
The black, the brown, the fair, the old, the young,  
Are earthly-minded all: There's not a she,  
The coldest constitution of the Sex,  
Nay, at the Altar, telling o'er her Beads,  
But some one rises on her heavenly thoughts,  
That drives her down the wind of strong desire,  
And makes her taste mortality again. Enter Servant whispers Albertus and goes out.  
Admit her.  
This is the hinge of my designs:  
Her Confidant; the bawdy Confessor,  
That probes her Ladies Conscience to the quick,  
To give it ease— she comes! you must withdraw.  Enter Clara. 
What comfort? speak thou Messenger of Love!  Clar. 
Undone! undone! for ever! O my Lord!  
I was born to be ruined in your service!  Alb. 
ha! what's the matter?  Clar. 
Your Letter, by what accident I know not,  
Is fallen into my Lords hands.  Alb. 
Death and Hell! then all's discovered.  Clar. 
Oh nothing but my falsehood.  Alb 
The Duke's name was subscribed.  Clar. 
Ay, you are not suspected: But the credit  
Of my function's lost for ever. I have wept  
And sworn my Innocence over, and over;  
And all to no purpose.  Alb. 
That's hard indeed.  Clar. 
He's raging mad, and has laid such a strict  
Confinement on my poor Lady, so hardly used her,  
That sure she'll never think of mankind more Alb. shows a Purse.  
Unless the thoughts of serving your Lordship, prevail  
Upon my good Nature, to bring her about again.  Alb. 
Here, thou hast won it fairly.  Clar. 
Our doors are all barred up, and none can find  
Admittance but Lorenzo. 'twas with difficulty  
I stolen to find you out, and let you know  
I am not idle: leave the rest to me: I must away. Exit.  Lesb. 
I've heard it all. And now my Lord your thoughts upon the matter?  Alb. 
Faith: were it not for a charitable principle of my virtuous Friend there, in setting all things right again: the power of my gold, and her own natural inclinations to the office, I should think my affairs were but in a melancholy condition.  Lesb. 
What do you resolve on?  Alb. 
even to go, as the Devil in the Woman drives me,  
For since the conquest that he made on Eve,  
'T has been that Sexes business to deceive—  Enter Juliana meeting him. 
Juliana here! then I am impotent: Lesbino stay.  Jul. 
Why do you start Albertus?  Alb. 
This indeed  
Was unexpected: I was used to see  
You oftener: I should chide you: but retire,  
I would not have you seen; Lesbino, there  Jul. 
He has seen me here before.  Alb. 
Ay Madam, but  
We live in a censorious talking age,  
And he is naturally fond of Scandal.  Jul. 
He is your friend.  Alb. 
But it is hard to know  
How far to trust a friend in these affairs;  
Your reputation—  Jul. 
This is poor, my Lord.  Alb. 
Nay then you'll not be answered. Ex. with Lesbino.  Jul. 
To play the Woman right: now I should soon  
Call Curses down from Heaven on his head,  
Protest my wrongs, and vow to be revenged;  
This were the furest way to please my Sex:  
But why revenged? or how have I been wronged?  
I knew him false before; the sad experience  
Of other Women, warned me of my fate;  
And yet I would not hold from venturing:  
Had he refused me, then my wrongs were plain:  
But I have met the softest dear returns,  
That Love could make, or longing Maids desire.  
If he has left me, 'tis his natures fault,  
That cannot be confined.  Enter Clara. 
O Clara! welcome.  Clar. 
Madam, I find my Lord has soon dispatched your business.  Jul. 
I have met the entertainment I expected here;  
But Clara, must I lose him thus?  Clar. 
I have  told you,  
He loves my Lady: And he bribes me high  
To prove his advocate in this affair;  
But yet methinks I would do much for you.  Jul. 
And thou shalt find I wonot starve my cause:  
I'll prove a grateful Client.  Clar. 
As we walk;  
We'll think upon the means.  Jul. 
Then let the wanderer rove,  
So I enjoy him in his rounds of Love.  Exeunt.  
Scene changes to Alphonso's House. Enter Alphonso and Lorenzo. Alphon. 
She might have numbered out the Stars in Sin;  
Fed her hot, lustful appetite with change  
Of every high-fed, wanton fool in Florence;  
Yet I have been happy: ignorantly blessed,  
Like a true marriage Tool. I might have sate  
Contented, at the lower end o'th feast,  
To welcome all, without a farther thought:  
And when the Business of the day was over,  
When all the company had danced her round;  
At night I might have ta'en her to my heart,  
With praises on her Truth and Constancy,  
And thanks to Heaven for such a virtuous Wife!  Loren. 
Alphonso: hear me!  Alphon. 
But to know myself a Monster! Death and Hell!  
Children, and fools will have me in the wind,  
And I shall stink of cuckolded to the World.  Loren. 
Come, come: you search too deep, and make your wound.  Alphon. 
O! I have nothing left me but thy friendship  
To satisfy mankind, I once was thought  
Above the reach of such a common Fate.  Loren. 
You are above it still.  Alphon. 
By Heaven I should be:  
For I'll appeal to reason; is it fit  
This man thou hast honoured with the name of friend,  
Should fall so low, to be the common scorn  
Of Pimps and Bawds?  Loren. 
Your thoughts are on the rack:  
But recollect your reason to your aid,  
And cast about, to find this treacherous slave  
That has abused you; if I then forsake you,  
May the severest vengeance of your fury  
Fall here, and mark me with the Villains shane.  Alphon. 
O! thinkest thou I am thus, without just cause?  
Had my broad-mouth'd, sland'rous Villain said it,  
I would have turned him outward to the Sun,  
displayed th' infected Fountain of his thoughts,  
And stabbed the venomed lie down to his heart:  
But when the Duke's own character confirms it!  Loren. 
Friend, have a care how you pursue that thought;  
There's danger in the way, therefore no more.  Alphon. 
And yet by Heaven! I cannot blame the Duke;  
For the has beauty that may justify  
All actions, that are meant to compass her;  
Oh! I am well acquainted with her power:  
I have devoured the spirit of her Love,  
Till drunk with joy, I reel'd to my undoing.  
Her eyes have shot me with a thousand fires;  
A thousand times, the little weeping loves,  
That wantoned in the liquid Crystal there,  
Like April showers melting on my Cheeks,  
refreshed my Veins into a wanton spring.  
O she is more than I can speak or think,  
The softest Bosom dear! The tenderest Wife!  Loren. 
Yet you would part with her.  Alphon. 
Not for the Wealth of Pluto, were she true:  
But she is false, and all my comfort now  
Must be to drive her from my thoughts for ever.  Loren. 
For ever!  Alphon. 
Yes, among the follies of my life, I would  
Forget the Sex: I would not call to mind  
How I have sold the Charter of my Manhood,  
To please the fondness of a Womans longing:  
I would not count those tedious hours again,  
( Tho in my thoughts!) which I have sacrificed  
To the fantastic pride of that vain Sex.  
But what I would have buried to the World  
Is the remembrance of that fatal hour,  
In which I fond ventured out my hopes;  
My peace of mind, my honour, and my Love,  
In the weak, Sinking Bottom of a Wife:  
O sleep that thought, and I shall be at ease!  Loren. 
You speak as if there were no Woman true.  Alphon. 
I know not what I speak: but if my Wife,  
If my Erminia's false, the Sex is damned;  
I know it; and she was the last that fell.  Loren. 
Call old Rogero's Daughter to your mind,  
To prove there may be virtue in that Sex,  
Tho tempted by necessity, and want,  
That Gold could not corrupt, nor power betray.  Alphon. 
What poor! and honest! and a Woman too!  
Does she still keep that point? then who can tell  
But I may be abused.  Loren. 
By Heaven you are!  
Some Villain practices against your peace,  
Whom time will best discover: For Erminia  
So well I know the conduct of her life,  
I'd stake my Soul upon her Innocence.  Alphon. 
Is this thy thought?  Loren. 
By Heaven my friend it is.  Alphon. 
would I could make it mine.  Loren. 
Go see her then.  Alphon. 
I dare not trust my Temper.  Loren. 
Come you shall,  
I've given my word.  Alphon. 
To whom?  Lor. 
Your mourning Wife.  Alph. 
You mock my misery.  Lor. 
I am your friend.  Alph. 
But did Erminia make it her request?  
Speak, could she? O the suffering Innocence!  
Thy words have darted hope into my soul  
And comfort dawns upon me! O speak on!  Lor. 
Her soul in sadness, and her eyes in Tears,  
Sighing she said! She feared her heart might break;  
But she would learn the virtue of a Wife,  
And labour patiently to suffer all;  
Then at my feet, in all the storm of Grief,  
She begged me, as for life, to see her Lord;  
And ever as she did repeat your name  
Such floods of sorrow burst from her bright eyes,  
I could not keep my manhood, but wept too.  Alph. 
If thou wert moved my friend! oh what must I  
Have been— had I been present at the view?  
Such tenderness must have disarmed my soul,  
And thrown me for forgiveness at her feet:  
But 'tis not yet too late.  Lor. 
Then you will see her?  Alph. 
Thy mournful Story has subdued my heart,  
And I have not a thought that does oppose me.  
Witness it Heaven! and Earth! and thou my friend,  
I combated this Passion of my Love,  
Stood this high Test of honour to my power,  
But am o'ercome: I am, I am a man,  
And can no longer bear it. O Lorenzo!  
My panting Heart beats to Erminia's breast,  
Struggles and heaves, and fain would be at rest;  
wearied with fears, and jealousies, would come,  
Thoughtless and free, to taste content at home;  
Firmly resolving never to remove  
From such a Friend, nor my Erminia's Love.  Exeunt.   

ACT II.  

SCENE I.  Enter Alphonso. Alph. 
I partend with Lorenzo on my promise,  
To see my Wife, and yet I loiter here  
In a perplexing maze of crowding doubts:  
I'll think no more on't: Ha— Alberto here!—  Enter Alberto. Alb. 
Alphonso! I have met you luckily.  
I came to find you out.  Alph. 
I am glad my Lord  
Your trouble's at an end, and I am found.  Alb. 
Our Master the great Duke—  Alph. 
Sir, what of him?  Alb. 
Has sent me to you.  Alph. 
O he honours me,  
Too much of late, beyond a Subjects thanks:  
What will this come to? aside.  Alb. 
Hearing that you have left the Court.  Alb. 
For that  
There's a necessity calls every man  
Into his own concerns, and Business, Sir,  
In spite of Fortune, will usurp sometimes.  Alb. 
Twas something sure of moment, unexpected,  
could cause that hast, at which the Court admires.  Alph. 
Why Sir admire? is it a miracle  
To find a Courtier honest, at his house  
With his own Wife! 'tis hardly Treason this,  
Nor would I have it an offence to any.  Alb. 
O! none at all: but yet the Duke that knows  
Persons of your esteem, and quality  
Make the full blaze of honour in his Court,  
Would have you always near him: therefore Sir,  
To night he makes a public entertainment,  
Where you and your fair Lady are his Guests.  Alph. 
Sits the wind there! aside.  
He over honours me, and I shall think  
myself too poor, and thankless a return  
For this high Grace: pray let his Highness know,  
My Sword and Fortune wait upon his will.  
But I am ill at measures, and must beg  
To be excused.  Alb. 
Your Lady dances well.  Alph. 
Y'are in the right my Lord: she does indeed;  
She sings well too: if I may be a judge,  
Who am her Husband, exquisitely well;  
Yet who would think it?  Alb. 
What?  Alph. 
Nay you, my Lord,  
Are out at Miracles; and this indeed  
Requires a Husbands faith: Yet you shall hear it;  
My Wife( how prompted she can only tell!)  
Tho bread up to the pleasures of the Court,  
With all those entertaining qualities,  
That men admire, and Women envy,  
Young, as she is, now, when her blood might well  
Employ her Beauty in its proper use;  
Faints in the fury of her appetite:  
And,( what I must confess I blushy to own)  
She foolishly affects a Huswives praise  
Amongst her Maids, and spins her Youth away.  
Is not this strange?  Alb. 
O most impossible!  Alph. 
That I expected, and indeed I grant you.  
This vulgar, wife-like virtue, housewifry,  
In a young Lady, is scandalously old,  
quiter out of fashion and must be forgotten.  Alb. 
You cannot be in earnest?  Alph. 
O my Lord!  
Marriage would mainly help your unbelief. Exit.  Alb. 
As hanging cures the toothache; Go thy way  
Old jealousy: tho I have failed in this:  
Clara fights wary, and can never miss. Exit.   
Scene changes to Erminia's Chamber. 

A SONG by an unknown hand.  
POor, ill-instructed, wretched Woman-kind!  
Decre'd by Fate,  
Preposterously to Love and Hate;  
Our feeble Mind.  
Yields up the keys of our ill-guarded Treasure,  
To Tyrant Man, whose arbitrary reign  
Scarce gives us Will, or Power to complain:  
Us and our Passions they inchain;  
The fleeting pleasure  
Holds no proportion with the lasting Pain.  
And thou the most ungrateful of thy Race,  
Who hast my Honour, wouldst my name deface,  
Cease thy pursuing,  
To my undoing.  
Since all the cruel Perjuries I prove,  
Do but exalt the merit of my Love,  
And whilst thy falsehood immortal proves to me,  
My Love aspires to Immortality.   Enter Erminia and Clara. Erm. 
My melancholy thoughts are all employed  
On those hard-fated Maids, that are bought in,  
By some poor circumstance of Interest,  
To the eternal Slavery of life.  Clar. 
Ah! who that sees in you the marriage joys,  
Will ever trust their Freedom with a Man?  Erm. 
In me! I am most happy in content:  
I love the hand that lays this load upon me,  
And shall although it sink me to my Grave:  
O Clara! this were wretchedness indeed;  
This usage, were beyond the reach of patience,  
From any, but Alphonso, him I love,  
Him, whom my Heart hangs after for its peace.  Clar. 
In him, 'tis Tyranny to use you thus.  Erm. 
O! I am run behind-hand with my Love:  
I have not yet discounted for those Sums,  
Those endless Sums of Joys; that made me happy:  
And these are but the poor compounding tears;  
The Scene of sorrow the bare interest.  
Which I will pay, till he remits the debt,  
And takes me to the comfort of his Bosom.  Enter Alphonso. Alph. 
He sends for me, invites me to the Court,  
To bring my Wife to Court; now the great Duke  
Appears himself, and claims me for his cuckolded.  
What! bring my Wife to Court! Damnation! none  
But I to bawd to my disgrace; sure something  
Appears upon me, spiritless and poor,  
That marks me for that Office, in his eye:  
He durst not else have done it:—  
I believe her honest yet:  
Her Body not acquainted with the Sin,  
But if her thoughts run foul, her mind's a Whore:  
And the next opportunity completes  
My black dishonour.  Clar. 
Madam my Lord.  Alph. 
Mistris, you.  
I guess your reverend function by your face.  
Nay, here's money for you: An ounce of Gold for but a grain of truth:  
Canst thou inform me of thy Ladies thoughts!  
How they're employed! on whom? O tell me that,  
And I will yet believe thou mayst live on  
Some years in Sin, before th' art to be damned.  Clar. 
Good Heaven defend, my Lord!  Alph. 
Nay, then thou art a praying-Chamber-Bawd  
And truth abhors thee. Foh! how she stinks o'th Office. thrusts her out.  Erm. 
My Lord! my much loved Lord!  
How has my ignorance betrayed my peace,  
And robbed me of your Love? alas I own,  
Freely confess the frailties of my Sex,  
With all its forms and follies here before you:  
Oh then if I have blindly stumbled on  
A fault, in pity to my weakness, you My Lord, will pardon it.  Alph. 
Does the remembrance of any Sin Upbraid your thoughts?  Erm. 
My Sins are infinite, As is the mercy of relenting Heaven.  
But I defy my Memory, combined  
With the severest malice of my Fate,  
Since the first happy minute of our Loves,  
To point me to a Crime against my Lord.  Al. 
What! not in thought Erminia?  Erm. 
No, indeed! Not even in thought, as I do hope for Heaven!  Alph. 
Then where's the need of pardon? You are justified:  Erm. 
Alas! I do beseech you on my knees,  
With streaming eyes, and a poor bleeding heart  
Inform me: Let that Tempest on your Brow,  
Fall on the wretched Head of lost Erminia;  
But speak! O let my accusation come,  
And tell what I have done to move you thus.  Alph. 
Damnation! done! Speak answer me! what, done!  Erm. 
Alas! what means my Lord?  Alph. 
Have you done any thing? that thus your guilt betrays you to the question?  Erm. 
Indeed I know of nothing to offend you.  Alph. 
O, were it come to that; did I but once  
Conceive a slight suspicion of the dead; It were not time for words—  
Erminia, I believe y've done no fault.  Erm. 
Then I am happy in my Innocence.  Alph. 
There's not a line in all that beauteous Face,  
That promises the picture of a Whore;  
By heaven! she should be honest to the Soul;  
O! I could curse that first seducing Priest,  
Who with false reasons triumphed over the World,  
And reconciled Mankind to Slavery:  
Whilst he, and all that reverend, fatted Tribe,  
skilled in the Arts of Luxury, and Ease,  
Wisely refused the Doctrines that they taught,  
And only damned the laity to a Wife.  Erm. 
Did you not name your Wife?  Alph. 
I did Ermenia; And with a Curse upon the cunning Priest,  
That conjured us together in a yoke, that galls me now.  Erm. 
would I had never been, or never lived to hear you Curse me from you.  Alph. 
No I will ever bless to my Grave.  Erm. 
Will you! then sure, oh sure, you cannot hate!  Alph. 
By Heaven and Earth! I never can, Erminia!  
No: by th' eternal Majesty that awes me,  
I languish with the fondness of my Love,  
Still dote, and fain would keep thee to my heart:  
Oh! thou'rt the very fountain of my joys,  
The spirit of my peace, my spring of Life,  
All that my wishes would, or Heaven can give:  
Yet, oh eternal Torment to my Love!  
We must, we must Erminia.—  Erm. 
What my Lord? O sure my heart informs me of my fate:  
What must we?  Alph. 
'tis Heaven alone can tell,  
How fatally the secret struggles here!  
With what impetuous force it beats my Breast;  
And tears away my quiet in its way;  
Therefore, it comes. O! we must part for ever:  
I can no more. Farewell. she follows him.  Erm. 
This, and all's well. Remember poor Erminia in her Grave. she swoons.  Alph. 
She sinks, she's gone: Erminia! stay, my life!  
O I conjure you by those thousand hours  
Of softest joys, that melted in thy arms;  
And by those thousand years of Love to come,  
I charge you stay.  Erm. 
Sure 'tis the voice of Love,  
That summons me to life, and my Alphonso.  Alph. 
Look up, Erminia! see, I'm rooted here,  
fixed to thy fate, and cannot live without thee.  
There are ten thousand blessings yet behind,  
Untasted by the palate of our Loves,  
That wait to Crown our Dayes and Nights together.  
And oh my heart can never think of Joy,  
Nor move me one step onward to my peace,  
Without the partner of my happiness.  Erm. 
Am I? Then sure we must not part?  Alph. 
O never. Forget the guilty thought, as I have done.  
Thou something dearer to me than my Life!  
Grow to my Heart, for ever fix thee here;  
Till time, long Ages hence, shall call us down,  
Old, and embracing, to one Grave together.  Erm. 
Then I am truly happy; Yet my Lord,  
( Forgive the folly of a Womans fears)  
If your late Coldness ever should return,  
No wretchedness on Earth could equal mine.  Alph. 
Drive me not back, upon my memory,  
But take me to thy Arms, and I will lose  
All thoughts, but of almighty Love and thee.  
Thus Tempest-beaten voyagers at last  
( Tost by the fury of the angry Main:)  
Secure and safe are in the Harbour cast,  
And never, never venture out again.  Exeunt.  
Scene an open Garden. Enter Angelline with her Mother. Mo. 
I've dropped my Husband in the crowd, and this is the  
Walk, my Lord Alberto promised to meet me in:  
Come hither Angelline! hold up thy head Child! ah! thy  
Mothers own Twincle! well, fifteen  
Must be provided for, I see that.  An. 
I do not understand you.  Mo. 
No matter for that, I understand enough in this point  
For us both, Child: if you have but the Grace to be ruled?  An. 
I hope I have ever been obedient.  Mo. 
Ay. 'twill be the better for you: say your Prayers duly,  
And take your Mothers advice along with you,  
And you may come to keep your Coach one day.  An. 
Alas! I am contented with my poor Condition,  
And would not, if I might, be what you say;  
And see my good old Father go on foot.  Mo. 
No Angelline, He and I, and all of us shall ride, if you  
Will be instructed to raise us. You know the Lord Alberto?  An. 
Him, that you shew'd me walking with the Duke.  Mo. 
Ay there's a man for you: to my certain knowledge  
He's directly in Love with thee.  An. 
So indeed the Lord Lorenzo tells me, he loves me;  
And tho I am more inclined to credit him,  
Yet I am far from thinking of it true.  Mo. 
Come, you shall love both.  An. 
That's impossible! both cannot mary me.  Mo. 
mary you, no matter for that: but both may serve  
Your turn a great deal better, another way:  
Come Angelline. Thy Father's poor, thy Beauty's  
Thy portion, and manage it to the best advantage.  An. 
Poor as I am, I scorn to be a Whore.  Mo. 
Bless me! how can you expect to thrive with such  
Abominable, ungodly words in your mouth, Child?  
A Whore, fie, fie don't think of the indecent thing,  
But as I was saying, there will be beauty enough at  
Five and Twenty, to throw away upon a Husband;  
Then if you should chance to tarnish, or grow rusty in the  
Wearing,( as Beauty alas! is but a flower, and flowers  
Will fade.) 'tis but the Matrimony dip at last, and you  
Appear again as fresh, with as glossy a Complexion, as  
You had never been blown on, and no harm done— I think  
I see him coming—  
Oh! 'tis my unseasonable Husband again, that out of a starving principle of  
Honesty, will neither stir himself, nor suffer me to labour in the lawful Occupation  
of a Mother for the advantage of a poor Child. weeps.  Enter Rogero. Rog. 
Oh! have I found you! 'tis very well— A pox o' these  
Hot Countries. There's no taking a mouthful of Air,  
Without the venture of being choked with the flies:  
How they swarm in every walk! Coxcombs of every size,  
And Nation! from the impertinence of the French,  
Down to the leaden figure of a Dutchman.  Enter Squire, Poet, and Bully. An. 
Who have we here?  Rog. 
The very Picture of folly in leading-strings! now by his  
Countenance I should guess there has not been an ounce of  
Brains in the Family, since his Fathers great Grandfather  
mortgaged his, to the purchasing a Title.  An. 
Of what Sir? a Fool! does that bear such a value in  
The World?  Rog. 
O Child! none but our swinging Estates can come up  
To the price on't: our Lords buy by the whole piece,  
So that a poor man can hardly come in  
For a remnant of that Commodity.  An. 
Methinks I should not covet to forestall their Markets.  Rog. 
Ah. Thy Fathers own Daughter to a hair! nay, thou hast a tang of thy Mother in thee too, I'll say that for thee Angelline! Thou follow'st good Example: she might have been a Lady, as she says: But no matter for that; she was wiser as I take it: For I' gad I was a Swinger in those Days: Let me— I could have done— I don't know what I could have done.— But 'tis past time a day with me now: come, let's home, or these Vermin will be biting.  Squire. 
Well, well. Let me alone I warrant you I break her Heart Boys: But hark you Poet! you'll stand by me and prompt upon occasion: While you with your Whiskers terrify my Mistris into silence and attention.  Squire advances between his Poet and Bully. An. 
The thing comes towards us.  Squire. 
Now— will I be Alexander the Great; and with thy right hand, my Poets Brains, and my own Estate, beat down the fortifications of these Amazons, and ravish to the end of the Chapter.  Bul. 
Bear up Sir.  Squire. 
Soft, and fair: A General should not be hot-headed you know: Poet, where are you?  Poet. 
Now Sir,— Bright as &c. prompting.  Squire. 
Ay, ay: 
Bright as the Virgin Tresses of the Day,  
When Neptune scours the Sun-beams from the Sea.   An. 
What does he mean Sir?  Poet. 
— My Eyes, &c. prompting again.  Squire. 
— My Eyes are scoarcht by your illustrious Face;  
Like dried Tobacco by a burning-Glass.  Poet. 
There's Poetry for you.  Squire. 
Ay, there's Poetry for you.  Rog. 
Sir, I am poor enough to pretend Acquaintance to the Muses; but I confess I don't understand you. Therefore without your Tresses, Sun-beams, and your Neptunes, I ask you what you would have?  Bully. 
Have Sir?  Squire. 
Have Sir?  Rog. 
Ay, have Sir!  Squire. 
Prithee Bully Whiskers tell him you—  
I am not much for fighting. walks off  Bully. 
Why! may be nothing Sir. What then Sir?  Rog. 
Why then I am satisfied.  Squire. 
Why look you there. I knew he was a civil honest Fellow.  Bully. 
Pox, he knows his men.  Squire. 
Hark thee old Lad. I have a great mind to be better acquainted with thee. Prithee now, if a man may be so bold; What a Pox art thou?  Rog. 
What am I! why I am nothing, have nothing, care for nothing, nor depend on nothing.  Poet. 
He comes of a very Ancient Family.  Squire. 
Nothing sayst thou? why then I gad I'll have the honour of thy Creation: But first here's money for thee: Now thou art Pimp-master in ord'nary to my Family, from this day forward; and begin thy Office upon that same little gipsy there.  Rog. 
Oh I am proud that I have a Daughter for you; but I intend to give you the first fruits of my service gratis. And return your Gold to these Rascals, that deserve it for keeping you company. And this to your Worship. kicks him.  Squire. 
Nay if you are thereabouts, your Servant!  Rog. 
As you like me, reward me!  Bully. 
Come away! Sir, 'tis a poor old mad fellow, and is not worth your anger; and Faith it goes against my Conscience to murder him, when he has bid so high for my Friendship. Else by the threshold of Mahomets Temple.—  Poet. 
Let him alone, I am big with Madrigal and will prostitute his Daughter to a Tinker in my next Lampoon.  Rog. 
This will elevate your Imagination Draws and scours 'em off.  Enter Alberto. Alb. 
Rogero! what my old Bully of Sixty five.  
Levying War with thy Regiments of years about thee! what's the matter?  Rog. 
The matter, my Lord! why every thing's the matter.  
The Coxcomb was in the matter in provoking me; and I was in the matter for beating the Coxcomb about the matter, that in the whole matter it is not a farthing matter, whether there had been any matter or no.  Alb. 
Very well: but prithee what pretty Creature is that there?  Rog. 
Where Sir? who Sir? my Wife Sir?  
What have you to say to my Wife Sir?  Moth. 
More than you imagine. aside.  Alber. 
Nothing, nothing, I man!  Rog. 
Nothing my Lord! why let me tell you my Lord, She has been—  Alb. 
Ay, and is still Rogero, a good old Geneva print for you that use Spectacles:  
You that use spectacles: But I wear my own  
Eyes, and would fain know  
Who this lovely young thing is?  Rog. 
Lovely did you say! I'gad and you are i'th right on't:  
There's a Wench for you.  
A Mistris for an Emperour, by Jupiter! my own picture  
To a Hair! A Rogue, there's a shape, there's a face,  
Then her Eyes and Lips; see how they blubb and pout, and  
Twitter and swell at you!  Alb. 
Rogero! I'll make bold, and taste your fruit. kisses Ang.  Rogero going between Alberto and Angelline. Rog. 
So much for Civility: And now my Lord, I am sorry for't,  
But this same idle Girl of mine, this same, what you will,  
This Chit, this any thing, has sucked such a foolish principle  
From her Mother, I am ashamed on't.  Alb. 
Prithee Rogero; what is't?  Rog. 
Why I am sorry for't, but I vow to gad she is not for your turn.  Alb. 
What dost thou mean?  Rog. 
Only out of stark Love, and kindness, that a Person of your  
Quality should lose his labour, for to my certain  
knowledge, she is most damnably honest;  
Come away Angelline. Come away Child.  Alb. 
I do not understand thee.  Rog. 
Nor do I intend to explain at present: but my Lord  
You'll pardon me. I know nothing of the matter;  
My Wife must answer it, it lies at her door. Ex. Rog. and Ang.  Alb. 
He knows nothing of my design:  Mo. 
'tis only his humour.  Alb. 
Pox on him! how came he here to disturb us?  Mo. 
He met us, at chapel.  Alb. 
Nay, if our Saints prove no better friends to the intrigues  
Of this World, we shall soon fall off the zeal of  
Our devotion to them.  
But tell me, when shall be the happy hour?  
The fragrant infancy of opening flowers,  
flowed to my senses in that melting kiss:  
O! I am wild, impatient as desire,  
To force the blushing Beauty to my bosom,  
And there dissolve it to the Balm of Love,  
Speak, tell me, when! oh when?  Mo 
Alas, my Lord! you think I have done nothing for you!  
Have not I? When Nature, Conscience,—  Alb. 
I know thou hast: nay nay, here's the best Recipe for  
A troublesome Conscience in Christendom gives a Purse.  
Probatum est. I warrant it good, Mother.  Mo. 
Well: I am ashamed of your Bounty; but you are so  
Winning a Person, you might ha' commanded me without  
A Reward. But to morrow my Lord, you shall see her:  
If she should prove frail. But no matter for that,  
You are a virtuous person, and will scorn to take  
The advantage of her weakness.  Alb. 
Not in the least, do not doubt me. Ex. Mother.  
So, this Conquest's sure; now for Alphonso's Wife,  
That suffering Martyr to a wedded Life;  
If her false virtue be not to be sold,  
farewell our surest Panders, power and gold. Exit.  re-enter Angelline and Juliana. Jul. 
Come, come! I know you love him: Alberto is  
A very Master in the Arts of Love:  
practised in all the soft bewitching ways,  
That find the weakness of a Womans heart;  
Therefore without a blushy you may confess it.  An. 
I would hid something from you willingly.  Jul. 
Tell me, is there not something in your heart pleads strongly for him?  An. 
If something from without  
Did not pled more, his cause were desperate.  Jul. 
Indeed I hear your Mother favours him.  An. 
Would I could say, 'twere false.  Jul. 
You came to meet him here.  Ang. 
My Mother I believe had so designed:  
For as we came from chapel with my Father,  
She watched her time, and lost him in the Crowd.  Jul. 
Does he allow it?  An. 
No; he forewarns me of him.  Jul. 
And be advised: fly from his Charms betimes,  
There is no other safety: if you think  
To stand, and guard the passes to your heart;  
You are undone: Oh! I have heard him talk,  
Like the first Child of Love, when every word  
spoken in his eyes, and wept to be believed,  
And all to ruin me: had I more time  
To tell my story out, 'twould move your pity:  
But yonder comes your Father!  
I'll see you suddenly again: farewell. Exit Juliana.  Enter Lorenzo and Rogero to Angelline. Loren. 
Rogero, I am well acquainted with thy worth:  
Have studied thee; observed thee in our Wars,  
Where the hard chance of Fortune, threw thy Lot  
Among the meanest of our soldiery;  
Unheeded, friendless, destitute of all;  
Till that blunt spirit of thy honesty,  
And forwardness to all attempts of honour,  
forced back thy fate, and made thy virtue known.  Rog. 
Yes. I have been a soldier; and have been rewarded too:  
Had promises for pay.  
And starved for the honour of my profession.  Lor. 
Well: all shall be amended; come to Court  
And but apply thyself to our great Duke,  
And thou shalt find a Prince, whose virtue will  
Redeem thee from the smart of poverty;  
Reward thy merits with an open hand,  
And nurse thy wanting age with ease, and plenty.  Rog. 
My Lord! you know me: And I know myself; you bid  
God bless the Duke, I cry Amen; with all my heart; so far  
We're right: But here I leave you; not one step further, not an Inch my Lord  
I am not for the Court, not I my Lord; there's a ruggedness in my nature will not let me sell the freedom of my Mind, to feed my body: No, when I see a Fool, I must laugh at him; not soothe him in his vanity, nor tickle him,- till he wheeze, and give me an advantage of creeping to his pocket.  Lor. 
But thy family, Rogero.  Rog. 
Ay, my Daughter here: why y'are in the right on't again, well I confess  
I should be glad my Angelline were provided for; But I can neither pimp, flatter or lie for a portion for her.  Lor. 
Nor shalt thou need it: here, Rogero, cherish  
Thy Daughters virtuous thoughts, nor let  
Her wants betray her to dishonour.  Rog. 
My Lord: You should be honest.  
But the honesty of this purse is no better than it  
Should be: why, how many reverend Matrons has this  
Corrupted into Bawds; 'tis as sure a Damnation to a  
Maiden-head, as fifteen, wit and a good face: But  
Tempter, I defy thee; and tho it is reasonable I  
Should be a Rogue for this; I'd have you to know I scorn the Office.  Lor. 
Away, away, do not suspect my friendship:  
On all occasions use me, as thy purse;  
That shall be open to thee, depend upon me,  
And leave thy Daughters fortune to my care.  Rog. 
Angelline! dost hear that Child! Th' art made for ever.  Lor. 
Rogero! that Alberto, whom you spoken of  
Runs in my thoughts: dost hear me; watch him close.  
Observe him well: his favour with the Duke,  
Passes those Actions currant to the world,  
Which in an other man, were foul and monstrous:  
Therefore beware of him! no more; farewell.  Rog. 
My Lord! Your servant: But as I was saying, he has  
The Christian Liberty of the Common to ramble in  
As much as he pleases, and welcome: But if he be for  
Leaping into enclosures: If he come to pasture in  
My Ground; at his peril, at his peril, by Jupiter;  
That's all, that's all: Your Servant my Lord, your Servant. Exit cum Angelline.  Lor. 
She's gone, and all my thoughts are up in Arms,  
Like wanton Citizens in Luxury,  
Thronging in factious Parties, to their cause,  
resolved and headlong for their Liberties,  
Before they know a danger: I am not  
Of that soft temper, that the eye of Beauty  
Can melt me from the Image of a Man,  
Into the fondness of a Womans fool:  
Yet if I am fated to a Marriage life,  
My happiness were pure in Angelline;  
In whom the infancy of Innocence,  
In blushing virtue triumphs over again,  
But then the World! Why let the babbling World  
Report it as they please. Let Interest wed  
The drudgery of a vexatious Bed;  
Dayes without peace, and Nights without desire,  
Still toil, and sweat away their youth for hire.  
Whilst safe in Innocence, and Truth; I taste  
The sweets of Love, fresh running to the last.  Exit.   

ACT III.  

SCENE I.  Enter Alphonso. Alph. 
TIS late, and I alone: th' hard travelled Sun  
Now wantons in the Bosom of the Sea,  
Whilst amorous Clouds steal nearer to the Earth,  
And melt themselves away upon the flowers:  
The Beasts in Companies to Coverts run;  
And all the feathered Kind, upon the wing,  
Pair to the Groves, and dream the night away.  Enter Erminia. Erm. 
Then, why art thou the loiterer of Love?  
Why when Erminia's Arms are opened wide,  
Expecting to embrace thee to thy rest;  
Why then does my Alphonso choose to wander  
The melancholy maze of Darkness here?  Alph. 
O thou too justly dost present my Crime!  
I own I am to blame, to call thee forth  
Into the rawness of a midnight Air,  
At this dark hour; But! O, forbear to think  
'twas from my choice, that I have stayed thus long;  
'twas a rude thought, that would not bo denied;  
Indeed no more: prithee to bed, my Dear.  Erm. 
Alas! There is no rest for me without thee!  Alph. 
O my Hearts comfort! yet a minute longer,  
And I'll discharge my Soul of all its load;  
Come trembling with my strong desires upon me,  
To thy expecting arms, till thou confess  
I've made amends for all the faults of Love.  Erm. 
I will doubt your Truth! farewell my Lord. Exit.  Alph. 
Good night, my Love: O may the softest arm  
Of downy slumbers rock thee to repose.  
Lull all thy senses fast: And may no thought  
( To interrupt the quiet of thy Bed)  
( In the loose Revel of a Dream) present  
Those Images, that keep me waking here.  Enter Lorenzo. Lor. 
Who's there? Alphonso?  Alph. 
Ha! who calls?  Lor. 
Thy Friend.  Alph. 
Lorenzo! always welcome to my Heart:  
But now thou comest, as if my Fate designed  
My Happiness should all depend on thee.  Lor. 
'tis late! my friend, how fares thy virtuous Wife?  Alph 
Well, very well: just partend hence, and now  
Preparingg for her Bed.  Lor. 
Tomorrow we shall meet:  
I have an idle thought to satisfy  
And then to rest: Good night Alphonso.  Alph. 
Friend, am I to be a stranger to that thought?  Lor. 
Thou hast my Soul: But now Erminia stays;  
Thy soft desiring Wife expects thy coming:  
busy in thought, and hasty for the hour,  
She turns and sighs, and wishes; counts the Clock,  
And every minute drags a heavy place,  
Till thou appear, the Champion of thy Bed,  
armed at all points, and eager for the charge,  
That calls her to the Combat of thy Love.  Alph. 
No: not to night, Lorenzo.  Lor. 
Not to night!  Alph. 
No Friend: my thoughts are strangers to repose;  
I'll not to bed.  Lor. 
Alphonso have a care:  
And physic not thy health to a Disease,  
If once the foul infection of a doubt,  
But mingle with the current of thy thoughts;  
The subtle poison seizes on the Heart,  
Corrupts the very fountain of thy peace,  
And then the minutes of the damned are thine.  Alph. 
Lorenzo! no; I hope my Fate intends me  
To nobler purposes. Yet.  Lor. 
What?  Alph. 
The Letter—  Lor. 
Well.  Alph. 
I must be satisfied of that!  Lor. 
You may.  Alph. 
By Heaven I will.  Lor. 
Time must discover it.  Alph. 
O! may I be that hateful thing, I scorn!  
The common, ridden cuckolded of the Town;  
Stag'd to the crowd on public theaters,  
Nay, balleted about the streets in rhyme,  
When for a wanton itching in my blood,  
I gratify a craving appetite;  
And let the just resentment of a wrong,  
Expect to morrow for a cool revenge.  Lor. 
I have a Sword, that wonot be behind  
In any task of Honour, for my friend:  
Command me freely.  Alph. 
'tis out come to that.  
But thus Lorenzo, I accept thy Love!  
Go to my Wife, tell her some discontents  
Have forced me out to travail.  Lor. 
How! Alphonso?  Alph. 
Observe me out, not that I doubt Erminia;  
But when my absence is by all believed;  
concealed in private here, I soon shall find  
My vigorous Lover bolting at my Wife;  
And I may know to thank him for the Office.  Lor. 
It has a Face indeed: Erminia too,  
May bear a part in this.  Alph. 
Lorenzo, no.  
Much may be gathered from her management,  
In my supposed absence, that may serve,  
Thro' the succeeding changes of my life,  
To fix my temper to the point of virtue.  Lor. 
Where shall we meet?  Alph. 
I cannot wander far.  Lor. 
This is the door. farewell. goes in.  Alph. 
So, now my Heart  
Be still, beat even measures in my Breast,  
That when the hour of Fate shall summon me  
The fury of my firm collected force  
May strike for Honour in a brave revenge.  
Hark, 'tis the tread of Servants coming this way:  
I would not be discovered. Exit.  Enter Clara and Juliana. Clar. 
Madam, This office that I venture on, in your service  
Is but an ungenerous return for Alberto's bounty!  Jul. 
'tis the only way you have left you, Clara.  
Your Lady has disappointed you: and as I take it,  
Your Credit's engaged for the payment of a Sum to night,  
Which I must either lay down,  
Or you suffer in your trading hereafter.  Clar. 
Nay, I am easily persuaded; and, upon second thoughts,  
imagine there may be less danger, and more Conscience,  
In this design, than my first undertaking.  Jul. 
O! a great deal more, Clara: for so you injure no body:  
Your Lord will be no cuckolded, your Lady miss nothing, that  
Ever she had, and I shall have but my own.  Clar. 
True, Madam, But how shall I be just to him?  Jul. 
That I'll tell you too!  Clar. 
He has paid for my Lady.  Jul. 
And he shall have her, or any Lady at the same rate.  Clar. 
How Madam! how? That Art were an Estate.  Jul. 
'tis but providing me a dark room, with a little of thy  
Direction; and the Strength of his own imagination  
Will carry on the Cheat.  Clar. 
But if he should discover!  Jul. 
Why let him make the best of the discovery;  
He'll find me a Woman, Clara.  Clar. 
Truly Madam, I begin to submit to your Arguments;  
I believe this Project may take.  Jul. 
It has been successful in England already: where intrigues  
Are carried on with less management, than the Italian  
Air will allow of.  Clar. 
Well, I never knew the good of a strong Imagination before.  Jul. 
'tis the best comfort, I fear, of a matrimonial Amour, Clara:  
But when do you expect Alberto?  Clar. 
'tis near the time: Let's in and prepare to receive him.  Exeunt. 

A SONG made by Colonel Sackvile.  

O Why did e'er my thoughts aspire  
To wish for that, no Crown can buy!  
'Tis Sacrilege, but to desire  
What she in honour will deny.   

As Indians do the Eastern skies,  
I at a distance must adore  
The brighter Glories of her eyes;  
And never dare pretend to more.    Enter Alberto. Alb. 
Well! were there nothing more in an intrigue, than barely  
The enjoyment, the unconscionable expense of the pleasure  
Would take off our appetite to the Sin; and the Devil would  
Soon fail of his correspondence with the World,  
Unless the prizes of his Commodities fell, that honest  
Fellows might be damnd'd at easier rates.  
Where am I? Hold! O 'tis Alphonso's House.  
And this the very hour, that Clara promised,  
To meet me at, with all her Womans Arts,  
And join in the dear Scene of Cuckoldom.  
The door opens, I will observe at distance.  Enter Clara. Clar. 
My Lord gone in discontent to travail! and my poor  
Lady left in distress here behind him; Let me see,  
There are comfortable applications to be made out  
Of these Doctrines. And if she has not the discretion  
To turn 'em to their right uses; I that am wiser,  
Am obliged in conscience to provide for the family.  Alb. 
And 'tis a charitable, Christian-like principle in thee, Clara.  Clar. 
My Lord Alberto!  Alb. 
The same, I am punctual you see.  Clar. 
And that's an extraordinary virtue in a young Lover,  
And ought to be encouraged in an Age, when poor  
Women are used, just like your Trees; Husbanded only  
Out of a vanity of having the first ripe fruit,  
Without the desire of tasting of 'em yourselves.  Alb. 
No faith. I am for enjoying the fruits of my labour  
Clara: Besides I have a vigorous young, craving  
Appetite;( with a digestion above the fear of Crudities  
These Forty years) that must be satisfied at home,  
Before I think of being bountiful to my Neighbours,  
But tell me! Alphonso gone to travail. Ha!  Clar. 
Most seasonably my Lord.  Alb. 
Then Love and Fortune for me: led on Clara.  Clar. 
What do you mean!  Alb. 
O honestly I warrant you.  Clar. 
But consider my Lord.  Alb. 
I do Clara.  Clar. 
My Ladies virtue!  Alb. 
And my secrecy: there's virtue for her virtue: nay, if you  
Go to that, mine is a Cardinal virtue among the Ladies,  
And ought to be respected in any Court in Christiandom,  
Where the Love, as well as Religion is catholic.  Clar. 
But my Lord, you know decency requires—  Alb. 
And I'll do't as decently as she,  
Or any Lady can, in reason require.  Clar. 
To morrow may prove more favourable to you;  
My Lady has but just heard the news, and her thoughts  
To night will run on my Lords unkindness.  Alb. 
Therefore it shall be to night: O! 'tis the natural constitution  
Of Womankind, upon the first suspicion of their Lovers inconstancy,  
To club with the next chance-comer for a revenge.  Clar. 
So that who ever fasts,  
The sweetest meats are prudently ordered to our own Table.  Alb. 
The Policy is true Machiavil, i'faith, on your sides;  
And now for a stronger Testimony of this within.  Clar. 
O hold, you ruin all else, I'll in before, dispose all things to the●● proper places, and return in an instant, for scandal must be avoided.  Alb. 
And 'tis but reasonable; for reputation is the fairest Face  
Of Virtue, and will soonest cheat the World;  
This brings the Physician his Patients, and the Lawyer his  
clients; and though one destroy your Body, and t'other your  
Estate: Opinion justifies their Knavery, and secures  
Their Functions from Poverty and contempt.  
Clara stays long— Pox! I 'm impatient— I'll' een enter,  
And do my Errand myself. [ Exit.]  Enter Lorenzo. Loren. 
'twas here I left Alphonso: I know not why:  
Some unseen Power directs my steps this way:  
Would I could find the truth of what I fear:  
He is abused: And he's so near my heart,  
That when I think upon his injuries,  
A just resentment arms within my Breast,  
As if my better self were wronged in him.  
I'll take another turn to find him yet.— Goes out and returns.  
Perhaps I stayed too long, and he is gone  
To wait me at my House,— It must be so.—  Enter Clara and Alberto at the door. Alb. 
'tis hard to leave my happiness so soon.  Clar. 
There may be danger in a longer stay.  Alb. 
I must be satisfied, you say.  Loren. 
Ha! a Mans voice from Alphonso's House!  
The door too open! There may be more in this;  
A midnight Thief, or Murderer.— I'll venture  
To secure him.  
So brisk! have at you Sir. They justle and draw, as they are closed Clara enters with a Light, and Exit:  
Alberto?  Alb. 
Ha! Lorenzo: 'twas lucky that  
This business grew not up to cutting Throats.  Loren. 
My Lord! you are the Master of your thoughts,  
They can inform you best.  Alb. 
Of what Lorenzo?  Loren. 
Whether you do deserve that Fate, or no?  Alb. 
You dare not think I do.  Loren. 
You know I dare  
All honest things: But you, my Lord! are touched. [ Exit.]  Alb. 
Y' are indisposed, I'll leave you Sir.  Loren. 
Farewell.—  
It must be so, else why alone? Why here  
Alone? And at this Midnight hour? When none  
But desperate Wretches wandring to their Fates,  
Venture abroad, uncalled. But then Erminia!  
Damn her, she sins beyond a Curse! and Hell,  
All Hell must do her Justice. Not allow  
A minute for the Changing of the Scene.  
She Wept! By Heaven I saw her faithless Tears,  
And thought I saw Alphonso in her eyes,  
Then, in that Minute, when the Devil and Lust  
Where Bawding for Alberto in her Heart!  
Oh Woman! Woman!  
Dear damned deceitful Sex! 'tis my own fault,  
If after this, I fall into thy Snare.  Enter Alphonso. Alph. 
Lorenzo! Welcome as the hopes of Peace,  
Thy presence brings to my divided Soul!  
O take me to thy arms and let me hid  
These Guilty blushes, that at sight of thee  
Start, and confess the weakness of thy friend.  Lor. 
What weakness! Speak Alphonso.  Alph. 
Woud'st thou think it?  
Since last we partend, I have wandered on  
Through the dark journeys of the desert Night;  
My ridden thoughts hagg'd with oppressing fears,  
That sunk my Spirits to the depth of Hell:  
And ever as I went, Erminia stood,  
Like a tormenting Conscience in my way.  
To keep me waking to the sense of pain.  Loren. 
'tis scarce an hour since we partend.  Alph. 
Oh! The wretched count by years: By Heaven, my Friend,  
Were I to live those minutes o'er again,  
The horrors that attend on waking guilt  
Would seize upon my thoughts, and hurry 'em  
Into the wildness of a mad Despair.  Lor. 
Despair, and Guilt and Horror. These are fit  
Companions for the damned: The Murderer,  
In his last Death-bed Agonies, hears such sounds,  
To summon him to everlasting Woe:  
My Friend knows no such Crimes.  Alph. 
Lorenzo! Oh Erminia!  Lor. 
Well.  Alph. 
Instruct my weakness here,  
How to begin, what I shall say to move her,  
How to confess myself enough her slave.  Lor. 
You rave Alphonso.  Alph. 
Oh to thee I do!  
But didst thou know what 'tis to bear about thee  
A heart subdued, devoted to desires,  
Which, fierce as the first appetite of Youth,  
Drive violently to thee Goal of Love:  
That would inform thee better.  Loren. 
I cannot guess what you resolve on?  Alphon. 
On my Happiness.  Lorenzo. 
Like a wasteful Prodigal,  
I have long spent in folly, from my store;  
But there is yet behind a large Estate;  
The promise of Eternal joys to come,  
In my Erminia's arms, where I will run  
And Love in quiet all my Life away.  Lor. 
'tis well resolved.  Alph. 
My Heart must bear me Witness  
With what unwillingness I entertained  
Those fears that shaped these Monsters in my Soul;  
Then judge me all the World, and thou my Friend,  
With what a start, and Eagerness of Joy,  
I meet that peace, that ministers a Cure.  Lor. 
You mean Erminia!  Alph. 
I do: My Wife!  Lor. 
Is there such healing Virtue in a Wife?  Alph. 
Oh she's the kind Physician of my thoughts.  Lor. 
Nay then I ask your Patdon: Faith Alphonso,  
I thought a Wife, like other Remedies,  
By often application might grow stale,  
And be a worthless drugg upon our hands.  Alph. 
Lorenzo, Thou art altered in thy thoughts.  Lor. 
Men are not still the same: Our Appetites  
Are various, and inconstant as the Moon  
That never Shines with the same Face again;  
'tis Nature's Curse never to be resolved;  
Busy to Day, in the pursuit of what  
To Morrows elder judgement may despise.  Alph. 
These are the moldy Morals of the Dead.  Lor. 
That speak the living plain: Art thou the same?  
Art thou not altered from what last I saw thee?  
The Hero strutting in thy pageant pride:  
swelled with thy wrongs, and bursting with resentment?  Alph. 
Ha!  Lor. 
Go, you would yet be more her slave.  Alph. 
What mean these words?  Lor. 
Your Tongue can best explain  
The Dictates of your heart: But now you said  
You wished you knew to be enough her slave,  
I think 'twas so.  Alph. 
It was by heaven!  Lor. 
And Faith I thought a Husband needed not that Prayer.  Alph. 
Y' are merry friend!  Lor. 
Would thou wouldst be so too!  
And learn to think no farther of the Sex  
Than for thy ease and pleasure.  Alph. 
Still in Riddles!  Lor. 
To Morrow will unfold 'em: I must leave you,  
But friend, the nights far spent, Erminia too  
Can live till Morn without you.  Alph. 
sayest thou Friend?  Lor. 
To Night you must not see her?  Alph. 
Not see her?  Lor. 
No.  Alph. 
Lorenzo, There is something in thy thoughts  
Thou darest not trust me with— I hope she's honest.  Alph. 
O doubtless, honest.  Alph. 
How did she bear thy Message?  Lor. 
Faith, Alphonso,  
If I may count her sorrow by her Tears,  
She very hardly bore it: For she wept,  
Had not all Hell been kindled in her heart, Aside.  
Enough to have cooled the Burning Devil there!  Alph. 
Then I am satisfied.  Lor. 
Indeed!  Alph. 
again!  
Where wouldst thou drive my doubts? If thou woud'st have  
Me think thee still the same, my Friend, and Honest,  
Inform me of thy thoughts?  Lor. 
Then thou art wronged.  Alph. 
That's the Disease! and know  
The Poisonous Scorpion that has made the Wound,  
Has virtue in its Blood to work a Cure:  
The Man, my Friend, the Villain that hath done it!  Lor. 
There I must be excused!  Alph. 
Not tell me?  
The Honour of thy Friend engaged! and thou  
Conceal the Villain from a just Revenge?  Lor. 
Not now! another time.  Alph. 
This prostituted outside-art may pass  
Upon the World, where Interest is a Friendship,  
But is despised, and scorned by nobler Souls.  Lor. 
You know me better; and I thought Alphonso  
My virtue had been tried, and found sufficient  
To justify our Honours to the World;  
You might have trusted me with yours till Morn:  
To Morrow we shall meet on better term; Farewell.— [ Exit.]  Alph. 
I was too blame: I know him honest:  
And know his thoughts are labouring for my Peace!  
Yet why he should conceal the Villains Name  
Confounds me? Hold! if it should prove the Duke!  
Confusion! All my spirits take the Alarm!  
Forward to do me noble justice there.  
Tis so— I know it now— Lorenzo too,  
Divided in his thoughts, betwixt his Friend,  
And Master, comes half-hearted to my Cause,  
Till famed report my Vengeance to the World.  
Who's there?  Enter Rogero. Rog. 
Who's there Sir? why may be I am here Sir! may be  
I am not here! what's that to any man, Sir?  Alph. 
Nothing at all, Friend.  Rog. 
Here's a Rogue for you now, a fine embroidered Rogue!  
That would scrape acquaintance for fear of a beating.  Alp. 
This Fellow may be of use.  Rog. 
Friend, you say, y' are very welcome Sir, but as I take it,  
I never saw you in my life before.  Alph. 
Then down with it for a secret.  Rog. 
What?  Alph. 
That an old man may be wiser than his beard: mum, not a word of this, as you hope for instruction.  Rog. 
I'll keep your Council.  Alph. 
Wilt thou my old Lad! Thou shalt never wear  
Spectacles more then: Hast thou heard no news of late?  Rog. 
No tidings of thy Wits! God help thee.  Alph. 
Why then I'll tell thee, the Duke—  Rog. 
What of him?  Alph. 
Why who would think it now?  Rog. 
Think! what!  Alph. 
That when the Devil's in the head; the Breeches should be honest.  Rog. 
What's this to the Duke?  Alph. 
Excuse me there: There's a method in State Affairs, which we Politicians amble in to the end of our discourse, now, Sir, if you will mortify the vehemence of your desire, with the phlegm of your discretion, and attend with patience, much may be done, and so I may come in order to what relates to the Duke.  Rog. 
Very well, very well.  Alph. 
But Sir, 'twill not be very well! when y'have heard it all.  Rog. 
Pray Sir, go on.  Alph. 
You know the Duke.  Rog. 
I think I have some reason.  Alph. 
You know him well.  Rog. 
Not well enough to lie with him.  Alph. 
'tis enough you know him.  Rog. 
Know him! ah God help thee, and the quantity of thy Brains, by thy impertinent Catechism.  Alph. 
Why then old True penny the Duke is now most violently in labour.  Rog. 
In labour! Alas, I am in pain for thee.  Alhh. 
And by an act of State, this very day  
We are obliged, as all good Subjects ought,  
To bring by turns our Wives and Daughters in  
As the best means of bringing him to bed.  
How the poor Fools, I warrant you, will strive who first shall lay him.  Rog. 
How, my Daughter to be a Midwife at fifteen! God sa' me she is not come to the Criss-cross-row of her profession yet.  Alph. 
Hast thou a Daughter? home, quickly home then: lock up thy doors.  
Let her not see the day: Let her not draw the open  
Air: for if there be a poor unbarr'd about her,  
The bawdy Devil will get in, and then, Good morrow Grandfather.  Rog. 
Gad, and it may be so, who can tell, ha! come Sir, 'tis late  
If you'll along with me, you'll find a hearty welcome, and poor fare.  Alph. 
I thank you Sir, I'll follow you: This disguise  
Of Folly may conceal me for a night,  
And my revenge to morrow sets me right.  Exeunt.  
Scene changes to Alphonso's House. Erminia sitting. Enter Lorenzo and Clara. Lor. 
Your Lady not a bed?  Clar. 
Alas in tears,  
She has spent the night, removed from comfort here, and from all eyes. She mourns the hours away.  Lor. 
My visit may disturb her more.  Clar. 
She says you are always welcome.  Lor. 
She rises: I will venture on, and spare  
Your farther service. Exit Clara.  
How is it with you, Madam? to ermine.  Erm. 
As with one,  
Who, wandring over a wide, barren waste,  
Views the last circles of the sinking Sun,  
Then gazing round, quiter destitute of hope,  
Forsaken and forlorn, sits sighing down,  
To mix with night, and entertain despair:  
You are that friendly Traveller, whom chance  
Has this way brought, to guide me safely home;  
O lend some charitable succour to me,  
And let me stray no farther from my joys!  Lor. 
There's such an Angel innocence appears,  
And pleads her cause i'th front of all her Crimes;  
That if I look upon her, I must think  
That 'tis impossible she should be damned.  Erm. 
The hand of Heaven has reached my Crimes and why!  
Oh why should I complain? Yet I must own,  
When I reflect upon Alphonso's loss!  
Oh when I think on that, my poor heart swells,  
Beats in my breast, and rises at its wrongs,  
Disputes the Justice of the Courts above,  
And thinks my punishment out weighs my Crimes.  Lor. 
She'll talk me from the credit of my sense, if she goes on!  Erm. 
Oh had wife heaven designed  
To prove my virtue this way: I had stood  
Firm as the Foot of Resolution;  
And wearied out the trial of a Saint!  
Afflictions of all kinds, the loss of Friends,  
The shane of Poverty, and the hand of Want,  
Diseases, Infamy; all, all together  
Drive me far off the Comforts of this World;  
But my Alphonso! Oh I cannot think  
Of life without him.— Heaven has made us one,  
Nor shall the malice of our Fate divide us.  Lor. 
It was Alberto, for I was awake:  
Death! I'll believe my Eyes in spite of Hell.  Erm. 
Lorenzo; you, nay you and Heaven must do  
A Justice here, and witness to my truth.  Lor. 
What does she drive at now?  Erm. 
How I have ever lived, and always will,  
( Tho banished from his sight, and bed for ever)  
His truly loving and obedient Wife.  Lor. 
Indeed a most obedient, loving Wife!  Erm. 
alas! Lorenzo! I have lost in him  
All that this World calls happy, and may peace  
Be still a stranger to my thoughts, if I  
Can guess a Cause.  Lor. 
Indeed! Is't possible?  Erm. 
Thus in this aweful posture, I invoke  
Heaven, Earth and Men to evidence my Truth:  
May Comfort never find me, if my heart  
E're sent a Wish to any other man:  
If when my Eyes have wandered, they have fixed  
On any other Object of Desire.  
Then why? Oh why am I thus hardly used?  Lor. 
In tears! away! sand sorrow to the Grave:  
Let the stale, dry bon'd Matron wish and weep  
Her wrinkles full, at the sad memory  
Of those dear joys, that never must return:  
Oh think on that; There is the wretchedness  
That sadly sighs, Youth is not always ours.  
That Beauty that invites all Eyes, and now  
Charms every Heart, in favour of your Cause,  
( When time shall sink his surrows on your Cheeks)  
Will pass neglected; Therefore be advised,  
And do not lavish out those Charms in Tears,  
That are a Debt to Love.  Erm. 
alas! my Charms  
Are useless now: The power that first made  
And conjured these faint Beauties into Charms,  
Withdraws his Influence; my loved Alphonso—  Lor. 
No more of Him.  Erm. 
No more of my Alphonso!  
Is he not mine? my Husband!  Lor. 
Therefore no more of him, what Woman, when  
Her youth boils up, and wantons in her veins,  
When her hot, panting pulse beats to the joy,  
And the thin blood springs forward to be gone,  
What woman then would quench a generous flamme,  
In an unactive, heavy Husbands Arms,  
That tires and jades your Expectation,  
In the first stretch of Love, then dully falls  
To his old Trot, and drudges out the Course?  Erm. 
I do not understand you.  Lor. 
Well, No more  
Of the dull Subject; Is't not so?  Erm. 
Lorenzo—  Lor. 
True Madam: And to leave you without Cause,  
As you say Madam without Cause,( and sure  
You are the best Judge of such a Cause:)  
Was barbarous, and did deserve that Fate.  Erm. 
alas! what Fate?  Lor. 
Come, come: I know the Sex;  
And know there is a Spirit in the blood  
Of all you married Women, that ne're fails  
soliciting your thoughts to a Consent,  
Of forking out your vengeance on the Brows  
Of the forgiving, thoughtless Fools at home.  Erm. 
Our Sex may merit Censure: But I hope  
My Lord, You think some honest.  Lor. 
I believe  
Pride may do much to keep the body safe,  
Or fear of venturing upon joys unknown:  
But she who once has tasted of the Sweets,  
( If honest to the love of Truth:) must own  
A relish still remaining of the joy,  
That plays upon the palate, and invites  
A youthful Appetite to taste again:  
But when it comes to that, your Cravings grow  
Intemperate, not to be satisfied.  
Oh for the Brawn! the Back of Hercules!  
With all the three nights sweat, his father Jove  
Spent in Alcmene's service, but to try  
If that could satisfy a Ladies longing.  Erm. 
alas! there is some meaning in your words  
I do not apprehended: but yet I fear.  Lor. 
I know thou dost: The Devil that taught thee Sin,  
And trained thee to perfection in thy Trade,  
Now leaves thee to the Conscience of thy Crimes.  Erm. 
alas! What Crimes! am I suspected then?  Lor. 
No proved, confirmed, Recorded in my Brain.  
And I will think thee Over twice a Day,  
To warn me of the Dangers of thy Sex.  
Suspected! Oh hypocrisy of Hell!  
Tho' thy feigned tears have sealed Alphonso's eyes,  
With a fond Faith of Thee, thy Truth and Love:  
Thou couldst not grossly think, that all the world  
looked with dull Eyes, thro' an Eclipse, upon Thee.  
But 'tis the spite and policy of Hell,  
First to seduce, and tempt into the Sin,  
And then betray us to the scourge and shane.  Erm. 
O! I had died contented with the Loss  
Of my loved Lord.—  Lor. 
Think, think on him!  Erm. 
O he is never absent from my Thoughts.  Lor. 
Think what a Creature he would make of thee,  
Did he but barely guess at what I know.  Erm. 
What is't you know?  Lor. 
Away, away, vile Woman! She follows him weeping.  
How her eyes stream! Tho' they have long profaned  
The Sanctity, and pious use of tears;  
Yet now in pity to thy Soul, if they  
Weep penitence, for mercy on thy Sins,  
May they still flow, and wash thy stains away.  
But thou hast forced me from my Faith, and left  
Me hoodwink't, blindly stumbling upon doubts  
Of thee, and all thy Sex: Therefore away,  
Leave me! be gone, Thou Woman.  Erm. 
Yes, I will  
To death, or banishment: But I have vowed  
Never to quit this hold, till you consent  
To hear me!  Lor. 
Hear you! Say I should Consent;  
What can you say? nay, if you should speak truth,  
( Which certainly you wo'n not) and confess  
The Circumstances, how you learned the trade,  
The time and place, the Clients you have had;  
Nay, and how often they have feed you too:  
What comfort can this bring? Can this atone  
For that soul Mark of shane, that Custom brands  
For Womens sins, on their wronged Husbands Brows?  Erm. 
Heaven knows how I am injured!  Lor. 
And Heaven knows  
How glad my heart would be to find you so:  
But last night. Think of that.  Erm. 
alas! I do;  
My grief will keep it ever in my mind.  
But what? what of last night?  Lor. 
Was it well spent?  Erm. 
In tears and sorrow for—  Lor. 
The Disappointment  
Your lewd Adulterer, Alberto, met with.  Erm. 
O Guard of Innocence!  Lor. 
Nay, to deny it,  
With Curses minted in the mouth of Hell,  
May add to thy Damnation— but not clear  
Thee from the living proofs, these Eyes have given me.  
Last night I saw him.  Erm. 
How? where?  Lor. 
Like a Thief,  
I saw him steal away from out your House,  
And had rewarded then his Treachery,  
But Conscientious Clara, scouting round,  
And dreading the Event, ran in, and—  Erm. 
What?  
Has she been practising my ruin too?  
What has she said? I see the snares are set,  
And Innocence is doomed to fall a prey  
To the mad Censure of licentious Tongues,  
But I defy the worst, what has she said?  Lor. 
Who Madam? trusty Clara, nothing she?  Erm. 
Then sand for her, and wrack her for the truth;  
She has a Womans weakness in her Soul.  
That cannot look upon the face of Death,  
Without a fear that will discover all.  Lor. 
Ha! if guilty? why should she invite  
This trial, that would make her falsehood plain.  Erm. 
If then you find me foul; if she but hint  
A doubt of folly, in my course of life,  
Last night, or any time, the way you mean,  
By the fair hope of my eternal Soul,  
I'll bow me to the Justice of your Sword,  
Think you the holy Priest that offers up  
My blood, to satisfy my injured Lord.  Lor. 
I know not what to think.  Erm. 
alas my Lord!  
I know you have condemned me in your thoughts,  
And I must own,  
The Circumstance shows guilty on my side.  Lor. 
His entering of your house—  Erm. 
At midnight too—  Lor. 
Must come no doubt from some encouragement.  Erm. 
Alas, I only know my Innocence!  Lor. 
Well, I am satisfied foul play's designed,  
And Clara deals the Cards to cheat us all.  Erm. 
If that were proved—  Lor. 
I speak not yet of proof,  
But when she saw Alberto joined with me,  
She started, with confusion in her looks.  
As fearing a Discovery.  Erm. 
Indeed.  Lor. 
Let her not know what I have uttered to you,  
For much depends on that  Erm. 
Oh heaven protect the Innocent, and bring  
These midnight Treacheries to open day!  Lor. 
All shall be well again, as yet your Lord  
Is ignorant of what is past; nor durst  
I trust his temper, lest his violence  
Might urge him on some desperate attempt,  
To ruin all: But Madam, when he hears  
From me the story of your injured Truth,  
Swift as a Lovers Wish, expect him here:  
'tis He must prove my Advocate, and pled  
A Pardon for the faults my Tongue has made. [ Exit.]  Erm. 
A pardon! Oh may Heaven in Thunder sand  
A general pardon to the sinning World;  
That every Heart may feel what mine does now;  
Alphonso comes; like Natures God, he shows  
In a May-morning thro' the Golden Boughs,  
crowned with the blushing Beauties of the Spring,  
whilst Creatures of all kinds their Tributes brings;  
And Birds untaught, his joyful Welcome sing.  
And all my past misfortunes did but prove  
The Purgatory to this heaven of Love. [ Exit.]    

ACT. IV.  

SCENE. I.  Enter Alphonso disguised, with Rogero. Rog. 
SIR, I must leave you while.  Alph. 
With all my heart.  Rog. 
How Sir, with all your heart? why then perhaps  
You don't care for my Company:  Alph. 
O most infinitely Sir, as naturally as a Woman loves a Fiddle  
And a Fool: I shan't dance till you return again.  Rog. 
Why Sir, you don't take me for a Fool or a fiddler?  Alph. 
Still you're in the wrong:  
But that's the common infirmity of long Beards,  
Heaven and a Barber may mend all.  Rog. 
A delicate witty fellow this: I love him dearly, dearly well by Jupiter: But 'tis an ill-natured Toad: A Pox of his ill nature: But your great Wits must have a relish that way. But as I was saying, I must leave you.  Alph. 
Your pleasure Sir.  Rog. 
My pleasure Sir, no Sir. 'tis not my pleasure, Why what a plaguy, testy, troublesone, quarrelsome Puppy' tis.— [ aside.]  
Perhaps 'twould please me better to stay here!  Alph. 
O business must be obeied.  Rog. 
sayest thou so?  Alph. 
By all means.  Rog. 
I gad, and thou'rt i'th'right on't again:  
But I shall suddenly return.  Alph. 
The sooner the better.  Rog. 
By Jupiter, it goes against my Conscience to part with thee:  
I am sorry for't: but I must leave thee.  Alph. 
Art thou my old Lad?  Rog. 
hearty sorry.  Alph. 
An Onion will express it at your Eyes.  
For me, tho' I shall be a loser by your absence,  
The thought on't moves not much.  Rog. 
Not move you! Why Sir, are you not sorry for my absence?  Alph 
Not at all.  Rog. 
You are not sorry then?  Alph. 
Not I. There's a Philosophical Cataplasm in my Grandmothers Dispensatory, exceeds a plantain Leaf for a broken-shin.  Rog. 
Ay, may be so. But what of that?  Alph. 
Why that serves me well enough upon these Occasions.  
Patience! Sir, patience!  
Every man has his liking.— But I prefer Patience to a Post-horse.  Rog. 
Patience is a virtue indeed.  Alph. 
O ever in a mad Dog!  Rog. 
Why in a mad Dog pray?  Alph. 
hypocrisy, that over-rules the world,  
Will have it so, things are not what they seem!  
Go to the Pulpits, there you'l hear of patience;  
But if you think to find it in the Church,  
You'l lose your labour: Mark the Clergies looks,  
And you would swear that every Priest ingross't  
That virtue to himself, when to speak truth,  
'tis not their Fasting, Watching, or their Prayers,  
But envy at the next fat bnfice,  
That pines 'em into Ghosts: Nay Fools themselves  
Are not contented with their Lot: For I  
myself would be a Knave, if I knew how  
To set the Mill a going.—  Rog. 
An admirable Fellow this! Gad I love and honour him, for preaching against the Priests: I warrant him a man of Parts, and of my own Religion: But you'l pardon me, I must away— But Sir, as I was saying, you may be very private here; nothing will disturb your meditations, till I see you again.  Alph. 
I thank your care!  Rog. 
Your Servant.  Alph. 
Your Servant Sir.— [ Exit.]  
This must be that Rogero, whom my friend  
So oft has spoken of: Well, he knows me not,  
Nor my design: But thinks my few, poor Brains  
lye under the Dominion of the Moon,  
And this Disguise appears the Livery  
My folly wears, as she grows to the full.  
I must not stir abroad before my hour,  
'tis yet too early for the Duke; at Nine,  
Thin followed in the Belvidere, he takes  
His morning walk: The pleasure of the shade  
May tempt him from his followers to the Grove,  
And there I'll meet him, and make vengeance sure.  
I hear some coming this way: It may be this old mans Daughter,  
I've heard much of her, and would know her. [ retires.]  Enter Juliana and Angelline. Ang. 
You come most luckily: But I must blushy  
That, what the obedience of a Child should hid,  
I must reveal, a Parents sin and shane.  Jul. 
Is she still obstinate!  Ang. 
Inflexible,  
Not to be moved by Virtue or by Love.  Jul. 
When comes Alberto here?  Ang. 
Too well I know my Mothers diligence  
Will take th'advantage of my Fathers absence,  
And give him this occasion.  Jul. 
And I know  
There's an intemperate Devil in his Blood,  
That never slips an opportunity  
Where Virtue may be bought, or Woman ruined.  Ang. 
Is there no way to escape him?  Jul. 
Yes, a fair one,  
What I have satisfied you in before;  
Becoming well our Sexes Charity,  
To a weak Womans wrongs; 'tis what you may  
Without a slain of honour undertake,  
To free yourself, and give me an occasion  
To oblige the man I love, perhaps reclaim him.  Mother within. 
Angelline! Why Child?  Ang. 
My Mother calls,  
I have not time to hear your story out,  
But I am half instructed; pray withdraw  
And prompt upon occasion. [ Juliana withdraws.]  Enter Mother. Moth. 
O! Have I found thee?  
Thou seest Child, a Mothers Love attends upon thee always.  Ang. 
I thank you for your Care.  Moth. 
Ay, Angelline! I am a careful Mother, up early, and down late, Contriving for thy good, how to make thee a Woman, Child?  Ang. 
A few years Forsooth will bring that about,  
Without breaking your rest for't.  Moth. 
'tis a forward age indeed: I myself was not very backward in my youth, no Novice at thy Years: Fifteen was an age of Information with me, that when my heart panted, and my eye was pleased, could tell me what I wanted without an Interpreter: But Angelline!  Ang. 
Forsooth.  Moth. 
I would make a happy Woman of thee Child!  
And to that purpose I have sent to my Lord Alberto!  Ang. 
How mother? He has no business here.  Jul. 
But I shall find him an employment if he comes. [ Aside.]  Moth. 
No business here! away! I see your ignorance; and 'twill Become you to be instructed by me, For I have run thro the experience of many years: I have made shrewd observations in my time, Mankind has been my study, and I warrant you 'twould do your heart good to hear me red a Lecture on every part about 'em; I'm Critical in every Point, a nice Distinguisher of the several Ages, Statures, and Dispositions of men, nay the Colour of their Eyes, and Hair cannot escape me... And for the true performing Complexion— I will live and die in the persuasion of dark brown.  Jul. 
Nothing in commendation of a long Nose? [ Aside.]  Ang. 
You are very knowing Mother.  Moth. 
And thou shalt learn: I have provided thee a Master that will instruct thee, and in that easy Method, thou wilt wish still to be task't with Lessons of his Love.  Ang. 
Indeed I fain would learn, but yet I fear.  Moth. 
Fear nothing Angelline: Fear nothing: What! let the worst come to the worst a man's but a man, and a Fiddle for favour. I think I hear him within.  Ang. 
But Mother I shall so blushy! I cannot think of showing him my face— I must be veiled.  Moth. 
Well, Well. The Business of your Face is over.  
There's something else can entertain a Lover. [ Exit.]  Ang. 
You may appear Juliana. I have urged this Business  
To a quarrel, and you must bear the brunt on't.  Jul. 
I am preparing for the encounter—  
This Veil transforms me to Angelline: But yet—  Ang. 
Why do you sigh?  Jul. 
'tis pity to deceive him.  Ang. 
What if I took this Business on myself?  Jul. 
Not for the world Angelline.—  
But if I were a Maid again.  Ang. 
You would not venture.  Jul. 
Indeed I ought not, but I feel I should—  Ang. 
You would be wiser.  Jul. 
Only while he pleased.  Ang. 
I hear 'em coming. To your posture.  Jul. 
farewell.  Ang. 
Adieu. Angelline retires. And Juliana stands veiled in Angellines place.  Enter Alberto and Mother. Alb. 
At last the tedious date of hopes, and fears  
Is at an end, and she is all my own.  
O let my arms thus press thee to my heart,  
That labours with the longings of my love,  
Struggles, and heaves, and fain would out to meet thee.  
But why this Veil? why dost thou hid thy face?  
Not answer me?  Moth. 
alas! poor Child! I warrant you her thoughts run all another way. Speak to him Angelline.  Alb. 
She turns away.  Moth. 
No, no, my Lord! She's only confounded with her Passion.  
Child, one word to save thy Mothers life.— To Ang.  
She says, She's so mightily confounded, To Alber.  
She knows not what to say.  
alas! you know Maids must have their fits of modesty,  
Besides at present you may better spare her tongue,  
You will have talking time enough hereafter.  Alb. 
O you instruct me Mother.  Moth. 
This way, this way, my Lord!  
Now Child, but show thyself thy Mothers Daughter.  
You will be gentle to her at the first:  
bait but a little of your Lordships vigour: She's young  
And tender, and cannot bear, alas! what we can bear!  Alb. 
She points me to the Door.  Moth. 
And chides your stay. Away my Lord, away. Ex. Alberto with Juliana, the Mother following.  Angelline comes forth. Ang 
Thus far I'm safe: But how to secure myself for the future, from his Importunities, and my Mothers Unnatural Office— I am you to learn. If I should tell my Father, he is rash, and may do some violence to my Mother. And tho she has put off a Parents Love, I cannot the Obedience of a Child. I must not be seen; here's a Door open. I'll in, and hid myself till the business be over. Goes in to Alphonso.  Enter Rogero. Rog. 
God forgive me— I've stayed too long from the Gentleman. But his understanding is none of the wisest— And he'l excuse me without a compliment.— I think I hear him.— Well, he's a Companion for an Emperour.  Alberto returns with Juliana. Alb. 
O Angelline! It is impossible to say how much I love thee.  Rog. 
Mercy upon me! my Angelline with Alberto! Aside.  Alb. 
The ecstasy still triumphs in my heart,  
My very thought's so full of love, and thee,  
That words want meaning to express my joy.  Rog. 
That ecstasy! what does he mean now?  
But I'll be with him, and his ecstasy.  Alb. 
Give me thy blushes. Throw away that Veil,  
That darkens sight, and feast my longing Eyes:  
Come! show me, ha! See's Rog.  Rog. 
Yes! She can show my Lord.  Alph. 
Rogero here!  Rog. 
And it seems you have seen the Show: But before you and I part, you shall pay for your peeping.  Alb. 
Now Impudence, assist me!  
Rogero, Thou seest I make bold in thy absence.  Rog. 
For which in your presence, and in the presence of all the world, I will make bold to cut your Throat.  Alb. 
What dost thou mean man?  Rog. 
Nay, If you are thereabouts: What do you mean by your ecstasies?  
Is my Daughter an Interpreter for your hard words?  
But, If you be for your ecstasies,  
I'll ecstasy you, with a Pox at the end on't.  Alb. 
Your Daughter! your Daughter may in time.—  Rog. 
Here's a Dog. Here's a Rogue for you.— But draw Sir, draw.  Jul. 
If I stay, I shall be discovered,  
I'll' een sneak off with what I have got, and be thankful.  Rog. 
You Gentlewoman! Whither away so fast?  
If you dance you must pay the fiddler.  Alb. 
Would I were fairly rid of this old Fellow,  
I have no stomach to murder the Father, when the Daughter has made me so handsome an entertainment already! Rogero, I won't fight with thee, prithee put up thy Sword.  Rog. 
Then will I Cage thee, and raise an Estate at six pence a piece by showing thee thro all Italy for a mahometan Whoremaster as thou art.  Alb. 
Come, come you trifle time.— I must go by.  Rog. 
This is your way.  Alb. 
Nay then! Draws.  Rog. 
With all my heart. But first, Thou most intemperate Placket-Monger! I here declare for the service you have done me in my Daughter there.— I will lie with your whole Family, from your great Grandam, do you see, down to her fourth Generation in Leading-strings.— I'll do't Sir, I'll do't. But come Sir. Have at you Sir.  Alb. 
Think but a little.  Rog. 
'tis to no more purpose. I won't Sir, I won't.  Alb. 
I would not kill thee. Rog. presses Alberto, Lorenz. enters between' em.  Enter Lorenzo. Lor. 
So! Now I can fairly make my retreat. farewell, Sir.  Rog. 
Lorenzo! My Lord. Why don't you see there, my Daughter there Why she has been—  Lor. 
What art thou mad?  Rog. 
And shall he carry it off thus?  Alb. 
Ay, ay, ay. 'tis so. He's perfectly distracted. He foams already at the mouth. Exit.  Lor. 
What of thy Daughter man?  Rog. 
O nothing, nothing at all my Lord.  
But I shall never have such an opportunity again.  
But come hither mistress,' o mine: Thou most abominable Angelline!  
Come and confess— Nay, nay, off with your Veil, and appear  
In the true likeness of a Strumpet, and— Pulls off her Veil.  Lor. 
Why this is not Angelline.  Rog. 
Not my Daughter!  Lor. 
No.  Rog. 
By Jupiter, I am glad on't with all my heart.  Jul. 
alas! I am a poor unhappy Creature!  Rog. 
Ay, ay. Any thing with all my soul Madam.  Jul. 
betrayed by th'injustice of my Fate,  
And a believing Womans easiness,  
To the sure ruin of Alberto's Love.  Rog. 
Love Madam. What should a young Lady do but Love?  Jul. 
How I came here, and by what accident  
He called me Angelline, your Daughter can inform you.  Rog. 
No body doubts it Madam.  Jul. 
Pray be not angry.  Rog. 
I was never better pleased in my life,  
Never since I was born, Madam.  Jul. 
I hope Sir you'l the easier pardon me.  Rog. 
Pardon! Why, I'll come upon my knees to you. But I'll never forgive myself, never Madam: For coming in like an old Fumbling-Coxcomb, so unseasonably to spoil sport: If you had said but the least word to me, I would have held the Door in a civil way, and been thankful for the Office.  Lor. 
What turn Pimp Rogero?  Rog. 
In the humour I am in, I could Pimp, lye, Hold the Door, or do any thing for any body—  
But my Lord, I am glad y'are come. The finest Gentleman—  Lor. 
Where?  Rog. 
Here in the next room. He's somewhat Philosophically given, and hates Company, especially Womens Company; for which Reason I am the easier inclined to entertain him in my Family.  
Oh here he comes; Enter Alphonso and Angelline  
He's a great Scholar, and a very wise man.  Lor. 
Is not that Angelline with him?  Rog. 
Ay. Tis so indeed— 'tis Angelline.  Lor. 
If his wisdom hath found the Philosophers ston in your House: You are certainly a made Man.  Rog. 
If my Daughter has: I am sure she's made a Woman.  Alph. 
What I have heard, and you confirm me in, shall turn to your advantage, do not doubt me.  Rog. 
Sir. Goes to Alph.  Alph. 
I am glad you are return'd  Lor. 
Sure I should know that voice.  Alph. 
I have discovered here.—  Rog. 
Ay, So have I, a Rascal.  Alph. 
Ha! Lorenzo there!  
Then to my best disguise! Aside.  Rog. 
You're for the Philosophers ston as I take it;  
Is my Daughter turned chemist?  
Does she club with you in the Experiment?  Lor. 
Or are you a Tutor to instruct her in the Liberal Arts?  Rog. 
Of whoring I believe, and I will as liberally  
Reward him for his pains.  Jul. 
Oh hold! for Heaven's sake hold, and hear me;  
I may redeem you from this Error.  Rog. 
'tis to no more purpose.  Lor. 
'tis some mistake, and you must hear her.  Rog. 
Nay, if I must, and it be but a mistake,  
I care not if I do.  Alph. 
If he discover me in this disguise  
How shall I stand it! or how answer him  
To all those Questions, that his Doubts will raise?  
If he suspect my Purpose: Why, what then?  
Tho' his suspicions fed upon his Truth,  
And his clear Eye in spreading Characters  
red here upon my Forehead my Designs,  
He knows I would go on. Aside.  Lor. 
This has indeed the face of Likelihood.  Rog. 
Of Truth itself: 'tis impossible it should be otherwise.  Lor. 
Rogero! I would be private.  Rog. 
Not with my Daughter?  Lor. 
No, no: With this Gentleman.  Rog. 
With all my Heart. I'll examine this business within.  
Tho' I believe the Philosopher is no better than he should be.  Lor. 
I'll pass my word for him. Exit. with Ang. and Jul.  Alph. 
I thank you Sir, and take my leave. Going to the Door, starts and turns.  Lor. 
Alphonso!  Alph. 
Ha! I am discovered! Well, Alphonso then.  Lor. 
You start and seem disordered.  Alph. 
Not at all.  Lor. 
I am glad on't.  Alph. 
Glad of what, Lorenzo!  Lor. 
Glad to find thee firm and constant to thyself,  
To find thee still the man I ever loved;  
Just, Valiant, Honest, Loyal, and my Friend!  Alph. 
O I am nothing, when not thine, thy Friend.  Lor. 
I know thou art my Friend: And therefore I  
Am glad to find thee and thy mind at peace;  
Thy thoughts are all clear, as crystal Current Stams,  
In wanton play, coursing each other down,  
From the fair Fountain of an honest soul.  Alph. 
I never thought him troublesone till now. Aside  Lor. 
'tis so: But I will cast beyond him yet.  Alph. 
would I were rid of him.  Lor. 
Alphonso!  Alph. 
Ha!  Lor. 
All is not well within Friend!  Alph. 
Never better.  Lor. 
Come, come in vain you stifle a Concern  
That most appears, when you hid it most.  Alph. 
Concern! Prithee no more. I know of none.  Lor. 
This seeming may acquit you to the world,  
But not to me: Be satisfied, I know you.  Alph. 
Why then you know me, and be satisfied.  Lor. 
Tho' I have grounds sufficient for my doubts,  
I would not rashly entertain a thought  
That thou wouldst use false dealing with thy Friend!  Alph. 
This is unkindly urged!  Lor. 
Then answer me,  
Why this disguise? and I not know the Cause,  Alph. 
O Friend! no more of that: There is a Cause,  
And I would have thee think, when I conceal  
myself from thee, that then( if possible)  
I would for ever hid me from myself,  
And all the World.  Lor. 
May I not know that Cause?  Alph. 
I 'm ill at ease  
At present, most unhappy in my thoughts;  
Unfit for many words: When next we meet—  Lor. 
When next we meet! Alphonso have a care.  Alph. 
Of what Lorenzo?  Lor. 
Come! 'tis poorly done  
To trifle with your Friend. And let me tell you—  Alph. 
Nay if you grow warm: farewell.  Lor. 
You go not hence.  Alph. 
How!  Lor. 
Till I am better known to your Designs.  Alph. 
Away, no more of this.  Lor. 
Then be advised.  Alph. 
Last night, you may remember, I was left  
Under the hard oppression of my doubts;  
And left by you in my extremest need,  
When only you could satisfy my thoughts,  
And yet I questioned not.  Lor. 
My Business then  
Was yours, your peace of mind.  Alph. 
So mine is now!  Lor. 
I'll give you Reasons why I then concealed it.  Alph. 
My Reasons you shall have hereafter,  
Why mine is now concealed. Going.  Lor. 
Nay, then 'tis plain;  
And mark me what I say, you sha'not go.  Alph. 
How! sha'not go?  Lor. 
By heaven you sha'not go.  Alph. 
Who shall oppose my way?  Lor. 
Sir, You may buy  
The knowledge dear, to bring it to the proof.  Alph. 
Prithee forbear: This may be dangerous.  Lor. 
False Friendship's always so.  Alph. 
Yet that Friendship,  
False as it is; instructs me how to bear!  Lor. 
Yes, you can bear, now you can calmly bear;  
But 'tis with the same Cunning, that the Wolf  
Puts tameness on, to abuse the Shepherds care:  
But I shall watch you for the Duke—  Alph. 
The Duke?  
What of the Duke?  Lor. 
No more of him: Alphonso  
Take but a Minutes patience, and I will  
Discover to your Ear—  Alph. 
Am I not wronged?  Lor. 
You are.  Alph. 
No matter then for more Discoveries.  Lor. 
And you would be revenged?  Alph. 
revenged! I will  
By Heaven, I will be to the full.  Lor. 
And may,  
You may, with safety, would you hear me out:  Alph. 
Words are the Crutches, which tame Cowards use,  
To halt upon, in any brave Design:  
I am resolved; and may the Husbands Curse  
Light here upon my Forehead, for the Boys  
To find me out by, as I pass along,  
The common scorn, and jest of laughing Fools:  
When I desist from my resolved revenge.  Lor. 
Desist! No Friend, I come not now to preach.  
A sufferance to thee; but to be employed,  
To share thy Fortune, and assist thy Cause!  Alph. 
Dost thou join with me? Then I draw my Sword,,  
Secure, and confident of my revenge:  
Tho' he were great as the first Caesar was,  
High Seated in the Empire of the World,  
With Nations waiting round him for his Guard,  
He went to nothing. All his glories here  
Should meet their Fate, and fall before my fury.  Lor. 
Be temperate.  Alph. 
Now let the Tyrant boast;  
Pride his vain thoughts, and triumph in his ills;  
Grow riotous, and wanton in the spoils  
Of the fair famed of Noble Families;  
And let his Bawds, that are abroad for prey,  
Fatten his lust with fresh variety, and wrack him on the fury of desire,  
That I may take him in the hour of Hell,  
And seal Damnation to him in his Blood.  Lor. 
Alphonso, This is all a Mad-man's rage.  
Will you yet hear me?  Alph. 
There's such an Inspiration of revenge,  
Rages within my Breast,  
That I could stand an idle Looker-on,  
Tamely behold his Bawdy Ministers  
Dish up my Wife again to his hot youth,  
And then my Sister, for his second Course;  
Rather than miss my Time. But this is talk:  
Now for the Duke.  Lor. 
Nay then, I can no more.  Alph. 
Why dost thou draw thy Sword?  Lor. 
To kill thee.  Alph. 
How! Is this thy Friendship!  Lor. 
Yes. The highest proof!  
If thou art fond of Death, fall Nobly here;  
Not like a Villain, by the Hangman's hands.  
Stir not a step this way, for by the life  
Of my eternal Soul, I mean my Words.  Alph. 
You dare not mean' em.  Lor. 
Do not prove my Daring,  
For if you do.  Alph. 
Nay then— Just engaging.  
Yet I am calm. Is this a friend, Lorenzo?  Lor. 
Yes! A just one,  
A Friend to Thee, thy Honour, and thy Name.  
A Friend, that does deserve a Nobler usage.  Alph. 
I know thou dost deserve what man can merit:  
Bear with my weakness; I have been too blame:  
But pardon me, and use me like a Friend.  Lor. 
As I have always done, and ever will.  Alph. 
Then tell me which way I must steer my Course?  
Thou wouldst not have me spend a sordid life  
In a tame Fellowship with my Disgraces?  Lor. 
Nor would I have our generous Duke  
Fall violently under thy revenge,  
When Justice calls it on Alberto's life.  Alph. 
Alberto!  Lor. 
Yes. I speak on certainty,  
On my own sense: And therefore came to find you;  
Had you been temperate, you had sooner known it.  Alph. 
Thou hast redeemed my Soul from such a Sin,  
As only, an abandoned Conscience, leagued  
With Hell, could have found out to damn me. Oh!  
My Souls Preserver: How shall I repay thee?  
What shall I say? Oh there is yet behind  
The Quiet, or the Torment of my life;  
I dare not ask thee, But if she be false—  Lor. 
Thy Wife! Thy too much wronged Wife is innocent;  
I've proved and found her innocence.  Alph. 
No more.  Lor. 
Yes. I have promised you shall see her.  Alph. 
See her, My Friend! Why is she innocent?  
O let the Tongues of Angels tune that word,  
When they speak comfort to despairing Souls:  
For there are Charms in every Letter there:  
The very Winds in silent Reverence,  
Must listen to the Music of that Sound,  
And bear about the Accents of my joy.  Lor. 
Come! You delay.  Alph. 
I had forgot myself.  
I thought I only dreamt of Happiness:  
And feared to wake to wretchedness again.  
But led me to her: O I do confess  
I am too blame: Now, when my sparing Fate  
Hardly allows me a few happy Hours,  
To trifle out my Minutes idly here;  
When Love invites me with his softest Charms,  
To improve my Joys in my Erminia's Arms.  Enter Erminia. Erm. 
Who calls upon Erminia!  Lor. 
See, your Wife  
Impatient of her longings, comes her self  
To meet your steps, and bless you on your way.  Alph. 
My Wife Lorenzo!  Erm. 
O 'tis Heaven to hear  
On any Terms, that dear loved voice again:  
Though my misfortunes ever must despair  
Of any Comfort from those Lips: Yet speak  
Or if you will be gentler to my Prayers. Kneels.  
Speak Kindly to me. Speak as you were wont;  
With those undoing Charms upon your Tongue;  
That have so often trembled to my Soul,  
In the soft Rapture of protesting Joys!  Lor. 
Can you hear this, yet see her on her knees?  Alph. 
alas! I am unworthy, do thou raise her;  
And tell her Friend, the guilty memory,  
How I have wronged her innocence, turns my Brain,  
And fixes me a senseless Statue here.  Erm. 
Then I will rush upon you with my Charms,  
Break thro' the Bars of Modesty and Form,  
To your Assistance: Thus to fold you in,  
And with my Passion warm you into Life!  
My Love! My Soul!  Alph. 
My being! all that heaven,  
From the deep Councils of Eternity,  
Could have sent down his Blessings on Mankind  
To sweeten life, and beautify the world.  Lor. 
Why this is as it should be!  Alph. 
O my Friend!  
How is my peace indebted to thy Care?  
And how Erminia, how shall I reward  
Thy Virtue? How entreat thee to forget  
Thy wrongs?  Erm. 
I know of none.  Alph. 
Their memory!  Erm. 
I have no thought, but of my instant joy,  
Of Love, and Thee.  Alph. 
Thou art too good for man—  
But thy Example shall instruct my Love,  
And make me worthy of Thee.  Erm. 
O for this!  
May the recorded Perjuries of men,  
Ne're meet a Faith in our believing Sex!  
To injure the swift progress of their joys:  
Men are all Truth, all Constancy, all Love:  
And they who do traduce their Virtues, wrong  
Their Consciences: But yet it does belong  
To th'envious Old, so to instruct the Young.  Alph. 
And for thy sake, may listening Virgins find  
Their Lovers just, as thy Alphonso's kind.  Erm. 
And you, who hear the Story of our Lives,  
May you have all such Husbands—  Alph. 
And such Wives.—    

ACT V.  

SCENE I.  Enter Rogero, Angelline and Juliana. Rog. 
WEll! well, I am satisfied. I love Reason, and am easily persuaded in the way of Reason, or so: A little of it goes a great way with me; and when once I find it, why the Dispute's at an end.— I give it over, I am silent, not a word, not a syllable? Mum for me!  Ang. 
Indeed you have heard the Truth of what I know?  Jul. 
Nothing has been omitted.  Rog. 
Why very well— You see I am satisfied.  
But how the world may be mistaken in a Philosopher!  
Angelline! Come hither. Come, I must take you to task a little upon the Point, or so. Nay, look thy natural Father in the face Child. Why this same Alphonso looks like a vigorous Rogue upon occasion: He had thee alone, that he had: Prithee how did he behave himself? Ha! what I warrant you, he kis't you.  Ang. 
No indeed!  Rog. 
What did he not kiss you? Put you to the squeak, or so;  
Tickle you, tumble you— Or—  Ang. 
No Sir, Nothing of all these.  Rog. 
Why, what a Pox, neither kiss, tickle or tumble, fumble or mumble you? What did he not offer you a Testimony of his Manhood, Child?  Ang. 
I do not understand you!  Rog. 
Nay, no Blushes for the matter! a man may do that in a civil way To show his Breeding, Child: That he may, and no harm done.  
But for Alberto—  Jul. 
Sir, May he do so?  Rog, 
Ay, and be whipped thro'the Guts too for his pains, Madam.  Jul. 
I hope not so.  Rog. 
Nay, I should be sorry for't: That's the truth on't: But I heard Alphonso talk something suspiciously that way.  Jul. 
O Sir, If you have pity for misfortune,  
Fly, and prevent this mischief: I have  told you  
The Cause of these mistakes. Clara, and I  
Have been too blame: But he is innocent.  Rog. 
Nay, I am easily mollifi'd: I love an honest Whoremaster with all my Heart, that I do; and as far as old Roger will go, by Jupiter, it shall be at his service. But we must make hast, that we must— Exeunt.   
SCENE Changes to Alphonso's House. Enter Alphonso and Erminia. Alph. 
You know my purpose: Therefore be advised,  
And manage this Design with your best Art;  
I know your Letter soon will bring him here;  
'twill Conjure him, from his cool honest thoughts,  
Into the warmer circled of your Arms.  Erm. 
alas! What means this preparation?  Alph. 
Ha! What means that Question now? Is this a Time?  Erm. 
If I am doubted!  Alph. 
If I were a man,  
Or any thing, but a fond Womans Fool,  
A Husband, Death! you durst not trifle thus!  
Why will you drive my Nature to extremes?  
Would you not have me satisfied?  Erm. 
I would.  Alph. 
This is the only way.  Erm. 
I fear th'event.  Alph. 
Th'event, of what? what is that you fear?  
Have you a Cause of fear?  Erm. 
I have a near one,  
Dear as my peace, and far above my life,  
Your safety is the Cause of all my fears.  Alph. 
No more— I hear him coming, you receive him  
As I advised: You know the rest.— Retires.  

A SONG written by Sir George Ethridge.  

SEe how fair Corinna lies,  
Kindly calling with her Eyes:  
In the tender Minute prove her;  
Shepherd! Why so dull a Lover?  
Prithee, Why so dull a Lover?   

In her blushes see your shane;  
Anger they with Love proclaim;  
You too coldly entertain her:  
Lay your Pipe a little by,  
If no other Charms you try,  
You will never, never gain her.   

While the happy Minute is,  
Court her, you may get a kiss,  
May be, favours that are greater:  
Leave your Piping, to her fly,  
When the Nymph you love is nigh,  
Is it with a Tune you treat her?   

Dull Amintor! fie, Oh! fie:  
Now your Shepherdess is nigh;  
Can you pass your time no better?    Enter Alberto. Alb. 
So the kind Nymph, dissolving as she lay,  
Expecting sighed, and chid the Shepherds stay:  
When panting to the Joy, he flew, to prove  
The Immortality of Life and Love.  Erm. 
I must, but know not how to Act this Part.  Alb. 
Turn not away: I see the God of Love  
Is busy in thy heart; He shoots his fires  
Through every poor, and kindles every Vein,  
And now he mounts in blushes on thy Cheeks,  
That tell me all, and summon on my joy.  
Say Madam, is't not so?  Erm. 
Nay, now my Lord.  Alb. 
Your looks confess it: Every glance declares  
For Love and me; whilst your hot glowing Eyes,  
Like golden Planets flaming from their spheres,  
Shine out, and guide me safe into your Arms.  Erm. 
Why do you talk thus to me?  Alb. 
I confess I am too blame,  
When this kind opportunity informs me,  
There are a Thousand better Arguments,  
Of more convincing Virtue to prevail,  
Than all the unperforming senseless noise,  
That talking love can offer to the Fair.  Erm. 
You wrong my meaning still.  Alb. 
I would not wrong it:  
Nor injure you so far, to think you can  
Mean otherwise: Away, this modesty  
Is the dull Virtue of a Marriage Bed;  
The Idol only of a Husbands Zeal!  Erm. 
A Husband! Then my Fit returns again.  
Why did you name him?  Alb. 
Nay the Devil knows.  Erm. 
At the least mention of that word, I start,  
And the remembrance of my sufferings  
Freezes my blood, and leaves me pace with fear.  Alb. 
There is no danger in a Lovers Arms.  Erm. 
But did you know what I have suffered!  Alb. 
All, I've heard it all, and know the unlucky Cause,  
The Letter that I sent—  Erm. 
What Letter?  Alb. 
That, that fell into Alphonso's hands.  Erm. 
I've seen one from the Duke.  Alb. 
It was from me.  Erm. 
Is't possible from you?  Alb. 
The Story shall employ an idler hour,  
And satisfy you in each Circumstance;  
Why I subscribed the Duke to my Design.  Erm. 
I dread the Consequence. Aside.  Alb. 
You see the straits  
The hazardous attempts, that venturous Love  
engages on his way to Happiness:  
Yet these are nothing now, tho' I have tired  
The Expectation of a chemists hope,  
This Golden Birth at last rewards my Toil.  Erm. 
Forbear, my Lord.  Alb. 
Forbear!  Erm. 
I must not hear you.  Alb. 
Why?  Erm. 
Think who I am?  Alb. 
I do.  Erm. 
Whose Wife I am.  Alb. 
For that it matters not: Since you are mine.  Erm. 
O unexampled villainy— Aside.  Alb. 
But why?  
O! why these scruples now? I thought last night  
Had satisfied all doubts.  Erm. 
Last night, my Lord?  Alb. 
Nay, then I must refresh your memory!  Erm. 
This Insolence is Brutal.  Alb. 
Tho' I find  
Your purpose plainly meant to my abuse,  
I think the management of your Design,  
Exceeds the peevish follies of your Sex:  
alas! We might have partend upon easier Terms;  
For Faith you wrong me, Madam, if you think  
I came to find out Constancy, or Preach  
It to a Woman. I've been your Guest indeed,  
Have met a hearty Welcome; and last night,  
That Bawdy night, and honest Clara knows  
I have not been ungrateful: So, I leave you  
To the fresh youth of your next Customer.  Enter Alphonso, with a Pistol. Alph. 
Thy own words be thy Sentence!  Alb. 
How? betrayed!  Erm. 
My fears are come upon me; O some power  
Divert this mischief! Help for Heaven's sake! help. Runs out.  Alph. 
No human help can come between thy Lusts  
And my revenge: Despair, and Curse thyself.  Alb. 
You wo' not murder me?  Alph. 
'tis Justice now  
That arms against thy Crimes, and strikes in me:  
Therefore, prepare—  Alb. 
Yet throw away your odds;  
And do not basely thus attempt my life.  Alph. 
That baseness is your own: For face to face,  
When brave men show their Actions to the Sun,  
You could not wrong my Honour, or my Name,  
But by base practices, and midnight Arts,  
You found the weakness of a Womans Guard,  
And there surprised me, take the just Reward— The Pistol not going off,— draws his Sword.  
Fortune I thank thee: Thou instructs my rage.  Alb. 
I wish no more Advantage. Now come on.  Alph. 
This brings thy certain Fate.  Alb. 
That's yet to try.— Fight.  Alph. 
Thy blood shows thou art mortal: Yet unsay  
What thou hast said.  Alb. 
Were Fate within thy power,  
I'd scorn my life at such a sordid price.  Alph. 
Then have thy Wish: O were the Strumpet here,  
That my just Sword might join your Bodies close  
As your glued Lusts.— This, Villain to thy Heart, Fight, Alb. falls.  
Thou hast it there; and she shall quickly follow. Going out, justles Rogero at the Door.  Enter Rogero. Rog. 
Why, what a Pox, here's fine doings indeed!  
If Whoremasters fall off at this rate, our Women  
Are likely to have a Comfortable time on't, that's  
Certain, Maiden-heads may hang as long as our Medlars  
Do, and mellow into Marmalet, That they may.  Alb. 
Some help I hope!  Rog. 
What, you are not killed then you say! Only dril'd through  
The Guts or so, to cool your Liver, my Lord?  Alb. 
The loss of blood has made me faint.  Rog. 
Ah! what say you now to the Conjuration of a Black-brow'd  
Wench? Would not that raise you, ha?  Alb. 
Your Arm will do it better. Sir I thank you!  
But if you would be truly Charitable,  
Follow Alphonso; you may yet prevent him,  
Tho' he has vowed the murder of his Wife.  Rog. 
Mercy upon us! why, what a bloody minded Monster  
Is a cuckolded in Imagination. Enter Juliana and Angelline.  
Oh: You come in time! here led him in;  
Nay, no crying for the matter, Madam: He has  
Sprung a leak or so; that's the truth on't: But lend  
You but a helping hand, and I warrant him  
He serves again, that he does— Exit.  Alb. 
Juliana here! I know humanity  
Instructs the world to pity the distressed,  
But oh! in thee, in thee whom I have wronged,  
This tenderness, these kind forgiving tears,  
show most amazing Goodness, far above  
The natural frailty of a Womans Love.  Jul. 
abandoned and forsaken, at my Birth,  
Of every Star, I live an outcast here!  
doomed by my guilty Fate to this curs't day  
For thy undoing— I have been the Cause  
Of thy misfortunes.  Alb. 
Thou the Cause! Tho' thou  
Art Truth itself; In this I would prefer  
The Obstinacy of an Infidel,  
And 'twere less sin, than that injurious Faith.  Jul. 
I cannot look upon those bleeding Wounds  
Without a fear that sinks me.  Alb. 
I have none,  
I hope, that dangerously threaten me.  Jul. 
Within, my Story shall confirm, what I  
Have said, and satisfy your Doubts.  Alb. 
I go;  
Guessing in vain at what I long to know.— Exeunt.  Enter Alphonso with a Dagger against Erminia. Alph. 
Nay— 'tis in vain: You should have thought before,  
Now 'tis too late.  Erm. 
Oh! why that dreadful Dagger?  Alph. 
No stirring hence: There is no safety for thee!  
Think, think what thou hast done.  Erm. 
alas! Your words  
Speak terror to me, and I fear you now!  Alph. 
I know thou dost.  Erm. 
O! Do not kill me Sir.  Alph. 
Not kill thee! why, this Impudence exceeds  
The measure of thy sins; and nothing but  
A dead stupidity that waits on guilt,  
Could urge that now: Not kill thee! have a Care,  
That thought that flatters thee into a hope  
Of Life, betrays thee to Damnation:  
For hadst thou Lives in Number to thy Lusts,  
Not one should scape me: No, I would not sand thee  
One last repenting hour to save thy Soul.  Erm. 
Yet hold my Lord—  Alph. 
None of your Womans Arts,  
To soften my Resolve.—  Erm. 
Hear me but speak!  Alph. 
Have I not heard enough? Methinks my Ears  
Are full of cuckolded still, yet I will hear thee, say  
On what foundation canst thou raise a hope  
Of mercy? Is't from my Natures sufferance?  
A Florentine's forgiveness, thou canst hope;  
Or from the Venial Quality, you whore,  
Of your offending. O you Strumpet down!  
Down to your lewd Adulterer— Going to stab her.  Enter Lorenzo, who interposes and takes the Dagger. Lor. 
Oh hold, Alphonso— Hold! Are you a man?  Alph. 
Protect her not: For I have vowed her death.  Lor. 
Murder your wise!  Alph. 
A Whore, a Whore, Lorenzo! practised long  
In the hot exercise of lechery,  
ripened in Sin, and ready to be damned.  Lor. 
This is a Mad-mans rage, To be restrained  
By force if you go on. Draws.  Alph. 
Nay then 'tis plain,  
You would maintain her in her Trade?  Lor. 
I will defend her Innocence.  Alph. 
Her Innocence!  
Or I am mad, or this will make me so;  
Alberto has confess't it, in these Ears  
proclaimed me cuckolded. Needs there other proof?  Lor. 
Not of his vanity: But I can bring  
One more Convincing of her Innocence!  Alph. 
Words, idle words. Lorenzo! give me way.  Lor. 
It must be through my Breast, if you come on.  Alph. 
Nay, Since it must be so.— Just engaging Erminia throws her self between' em.  Erm. 
O let me here  
atone this difference: Let your fury fall  
Upon my life, and cut me from my Woes;  
You think me false, my Lord; and in that thought  
Are buried all my hopes: High heaven that knows  
My Bosom'd Soul must witness to this truth,  
Since Love and you no more, no more are mine;  
The Comforts of this life are mine no more,  
And death alone can be my Refuge now.  Enter Rogero. Rog. 
How's this! Swords drawn upon a Woman: Since  
Wars must ensue, I declare for the Subject: Old Rogero  
Stands up for the Property of the Petticoat, that's certain:  
Speak, what say you?— Is't a battle Royal, or no?  Alph. 
Prithee be gone! This is no fooling time.  Rog. 
Why very well, Now you say something, Y' have fooled it long enough in Conscience already; murder your Wife for not making you a cuckolded! By Jupiter, I thought the Devil in the Family!  Alph. 
How, that again Rogero?  Rog. 
Nay Sir, I stand to my word, and over and over again say, that Alberto's an Ass; as a certain Gentlewoman within, one Juliana can testify at large.  Alph. 
What dost thou mean?  Rog. 
Mean Sir! Don't you know what I mean? Why then Sir I'll tell you what I mean! In the first place I mean to be heard. And secondly, Tho' it be a little unreasonable, because I trouble you but seldom, I expect to be understood Sir, that I do: For as I was saying, this Juliana out of a regard to her former Acquaintance with Alberto, finding his Designs on the Body of your Wife there; and my Daughter, has out of a Conscionable Discretion supplied their places, and fobb'd him off with her own proper Person.— And there's my meaning out now.  Alph. 
Why this is wonderful, but tell me how?  Rog. 
How Sir! May be I won't! May be I can't tell you how!  
I did not hold the Door, or Pimp to the Project; I,  
But there comes a Gentleman can tell you more.  Enter Alberto, lead by Juliana and Angelline, and her Mother. Alb. 
Thy Story Juliana has subdued  
My wilder thoughts, and fixed me only Thine:  
burr oh! Instruct me how I shall appear  
Before that injured Fair, whose Innocence  
Too late I find I have unjustly wronged  
Beyond a hope of Pardon.  Alph. 
wronged saidst thou? wronged? Lorenzo! Dost thou hear him?  
Even he, Alberto! He, who best can tell  
If she be so, says that my Wife is wronged:  
You talked of Innocence, whose Innocence? O speak!  
Inform me straight, and save me from my fears.  Alb. 
I must confess my wild Intemperance  
Urging me on, my busy thoughts were all  
lawlessly loose, and ready for the Spoil  
Of chased Erminia's Virtue.  Alph. 
Ha— What Grounds?  
On what Encouragement did you proceed?  
Any from her?  Alb. 
Oh never! All I had  
Was from my fond persuading vanity:  
Till Clara came, and gave me fuller hopes.  Alph. 
Clara!  Lor. 
She has confess't her Treachery!  Alph. 
Impudent damning Whore!  Lor. 
Last night my Lord!  
You may remember we met here.  Alb. 
We did.  Lor. 
Came you abroad so late to take the Air?  Alb. 
'twas Clara summoned me, and I obeyed.  Lor. 
Erminia was the Feast she bid you to!  Alb. 
That was the Invitation: But I find  
I stand indebted for my Welcome here. To Juliana.  Lor. 
That Clara too confirms.  Alph. 
Why does there need  
A farther Proof?— The Circumstances join  
In full Consent, to clear her to the World. Goes to Ermina.  
O let me thus make sure of Happiness!  
Thus panting, fold thee in the Arms of Love,  
Till my repenting thoughts, and subdued fears,  
Confessing thy Dominion in my Heart,  
Make room to entertain thy Triumph there.  Rog. 
Your Servant, my Lord: Here's a slight Commodity, A Maidenhead here; if your Appetite be up again: We have stolen Custom, and can afford you a pen'worth.  Alb. 
I have paid for that already.  Lor. 
Pray explain yourself.  Alb. 
I bought her of that reverend Matron there, her Mother.  Rog. 
Hem! hem! hem.  Moth. 
What will become of me?  Lor. 
Rogero! I confess I had designed  
Thy Daughter for my Wife!  Rog. 
With all my Heart.—  Lor. 
But since she proves of such a virtuous strain,  
And on the surer side, I dare not trust my Honour  
With her Mothers Infamy.  Rog. 
Ay, as you say. 'tis that forb ids the Banes.— Her mother there!  Lor. 
There is no other Cause?  Rog. 
Here take her then: By Jupiter she's yours.  Lor. 
What dost thou mean?  Rog. 
Only to let you know, That the Prisoner at the Bar there, is no Mother of Angellines; no Matrimonial Consort of mine, but the natural iniquity of my youth.  Lor. 
Your Whore!  Rog. 
My Concubine, an't shall please you, of starving memory: Whom, when Angellines Mother died, I entertained, for the Reputation of being in Fashion, and the Breeding of my Daughter.  Lor. 
A hopeful Education truly Sir!  
But now she is my Care!  Rog. 
Amen to that, with more Devotion than ever the Parish-Priest said it in his Prayers: Why, I am young again, I could caper, sing, come over a stick, or any thing in the humour I am in.  Moth. 
I hope you'l pardon me.  Rog. 
Why, what did I set you up for, but to follow your trade? I know a Whore runs as naturally into a Bawd, as a young man into lechery and the Pox.  Alb. 
Or as an old man into Impotence, and Law Suits: Come Rogero! You must forgive her: You see in all Civil Governments, Bawds, as well as Lawyers past the Exercise of the Bar, are considered for their Experience; and both have their Chamber-Practice allowed them, for the Benefit of the public.  Rog. 
Nay then your Servant Sir! I am satisfied, if the Government allows it: And am satisfied 'tis a Civil Government for allowing it. And so your Servant again.  Lor. 
Our joys are now complete.  Alph. 
By heaven they are  
So purely perfect, nothing can remain  
Worthy a Wish: You two are all the World.  Erm. 
Oh happiness of Life, and Innocence!  Alph. 
And Innocence is proved: Oh there's the thing.  
For 'tis a Womans falsest, vainest pride  
To boast a Virtue, that has ne're been tried:  
— In equal folly too those Husbands live,  
Who peevishly against themselves, contrive  
By early fears, to hasten on the Day;  
For jealousy but shows our Wives the Way:  
And if the forked Fortune be our Doom,  
In vain we strive; The Blessing will come home.  Ex. Omnes.   
The Prologue Written by Mr. John Dryden.  
The Epilogue by the Honourable JOHN STAFFORD, Esquire.   

PROLOGUE, Spoken by Mr. BETTERTON.  

HOW comes it, Gentlemen, that now aday's  
When all of you so shrewdly judge of Plays,  
Our Poets tax you still with want of sense,  
All Prologues treat you at your own expense.  
Sharp Citizens a wiser way can go,  
They make you Fools, but never call you so.  
They, in good Manners, seldom make a slip,  
But, Treat a Common Whore with Ladyship:  
But here each saucy Wit at Random writes,  
And uses Ladies as he uses Knights.  
Our Author, Young and Grateful in his Nature,  
Vow's, that from him no Nymph deserves a satire.  
Nor will he ever Draw— I mean his rhyme,  
Against the sweet Partaker of his Crime.  
Nor is he yet so bold an Undertaker  
To call MEN Fools, 'tis railing at their MAKER.  
Besides, he fears to split upon that shelf;  
He's young enough to be a FOP himself.  
And, if his Praise can bring you all A-bed,  
He swears such hopeful Youth no Nation ever bread.   

Your Nurses, we presume, in such a Case,  
Your Father choose, because he liked the Face;  
And often they supplied your Mothecs place.  
The Dry Nurse was your Mothers ancient Maid,  
Who knew some former slip she ner'e betrayed.  
Betwixt 'em both, for Milk and Sugar Candy,  
Your sucking Bottles were well stored with Brandy.  
Your Father to initiate your discourse  
Meant to have taught you first to swear and Curse;  
But was prevented by each careful Nurse.  
For, leaving Dad and Mam, as names too common,  
They taught you certain parts of Man and Woman.  
I pass your Schools, for there when first you came,  
You would be sure to learn the Latin name.  
In colleges you scorned their Art of thinking,  
But learned all Moods and Figures of good Drinking:  
Thence, come to Town you practise Play, to know  
The virtues of the High Dice and the Low.  
Each thinks himself a SHARPER most profound:  
He cheats by Pence, is cheated by the Pound:  
With these Perfections, and what else he Gicans,  
The SPARK sets up for Love behind our Scenes;  
Hot in pursuit of Princesses and Queens.  
There, if they know their Man, with cunning Carriage,  
Twenty to one but it concludes in Marriage.  
He hires some Homely Room, Love's Fruits to gather,  
And, Garret high, Rebells against his Father.  
But he once dead—  
Brings her in Triumph with her Portion Down,  
A Twillet, Dressing-Box, and Half a Crown.  
Some mary first, and then they fall to scouring,  
Which is, Refining Marriage into Whoring.  
Our Women batten well on their good Nature,  
All they can rap and rend for the dear Creature.  
But while abroad so liberal the DOLT is,  
Poor SPOUSE at Home as Ragged as a Colt is.  
Last, some there are, who take their first Degrees  
Of Lewdness in our Middle Galleries:  
The Doughty BULLIES enter Bloody Drunk,  
Invade and grabble one another's PUNK:  
They Caterwoul, and make a dismal Rout,  
Call SONS of WHORES, and strike, but ne're lugg-out:  
Thus while for Paultrey Punk they roar and stickle,  
They make it Bawdier than a Conventicle.    

EPILOGUE, By ANOTHER HAND.  
YOU saw your Wife was chased, yet thoroughly tryd,  
And, without doubt, y'are hugely edisy'd;  
For, like our Hero, whom we shew'd to day,  
You think no Woman true, but in a Play;  
Love once did make a pretty kind of Show,  
Esteem and Kindness in one Breast would grow,  
But 'twas heaven knows how many years ago.  
Now some small chat, and Guinney Expectation,  
Gets all the pretty Creatures in the Nation:  
In Comedy your little Selves you meet,  
'tis Covent-Garden drawn in Bridges-street.  
Smile on our Author then, if he has shown  
A jolly Nut-brown Bastard of your own.  
Ah! Happy you, with Ease and with Delight,  
Who act those Follies, Poets toil to writ!  
The sweeting Muse does most leave the Chase,  
She puffs, and hardly keeps your Pratean Vices place.  
Pinch you but in one 'vice, away you fly  
To some new Frisk of Contrariety.  
You roll like Snow-Balls, gathering as you run,  
And get seven Dev'ls, when dispossessed of one.  
Your Venus once was a platonic Queen,  
Nothing of Love beside the Face was seen;  
But every Inch of Her you now Uncase,  
And clap a Vizard mask upon the Face.  
For Sins like these, the zealous of the Land,  
With little Hair, and little or no Band,  
Declare how circulating Pestilences  
Watch every Twenty Years, to snap Offences.  
Saturn, even now, takes Doctoral Degrees,  
he'l do your work this Summer, without Fees.  
Let all the Boxes, Phoebus find thy Grace,  
And, ah, preserve thy Eighteen penny Place!  
But for the Pit-Confounders, let 'em go.  
And find as little Mercy as the show:  
The Actors thus and thus, thy Poets pray;  
For every critic saved, thou damn'st a Play.  
FINIS.