II.

_Vain Fools! that sure Possessions spend, In hopes of Chymic Treasure, But for their fancy’d Riches find Both want of Gold and Pleasure. Rich in my Delia, I can wish no more; The Wanderer, like the Chymist, must be poor._

_Man._ Not see him, Madam--I protest he’s handsomer, and handsomer, _Paris_ has given him such an Air:--Lord, he’s all over Monsieur--Not see him, Madam--Why? I hope you do not, like the foolish sort of Wives, design a strict Obedience to your Husband.

_Mir._ Away, a Husband!--when Absence, that sure Remedy of Love, had heal’d the bleeding Wound _Lejere_ had made, by Heaven, I thought I ne’er shou’d love again--but since _Endymion_ has inspir’d my Soul, and for that Youth I burn, I pine, I languish.

Enter _George_ richly drest, stands at a distance gazing on _Mirtilla_.

_Man._ See, Madam, there’s an Object may put out that Flame, and may revive the old one.

_Mir._ Shame and Confusion.--_Lejere._ [Turns and walks away.

_Geo._ Yonder she is, that Mien and Shape I know, though the false Face be turn’d with shame away. [Offers to advance, and stops. --’Sdeath,--I tremble! yet came well fortify’d with Pride and Anger. I see thou’st in thy Eyes a little Modesty. [Goes to her nearer. That wou’d conceal the Treasons of thy Heart.

_Mir._ Perhaps it is their Scorn that you mistake.

_Geo._ It may be so; she that sets up for Jilting, shou’d go on; ‘Twere mean to find remorse, so young, and soon: Oh, this gay Town has gloriously improv’d you amongst the rest; that taught you Perjury.

_Mir._ Alas! when was it sworn?

_Geo._ In the blest Age of Love, When every Power look’d down, and heard thy Vows.

_Mir._ I was a Lover then; shou’d Heaven concern it self with Lovers Perjuries, ‘twould find no leisure to preserve the Universe.

_Geo._ And was the Woman so strong in thee, thou couldst not wait a little? Were you so raving mad for Fool and Husband, you must take up with the next ready Coxcomb. Death, and the Devil, a dull clumsey Boor!--What was it charm’d you? The beastly quantity of Man about him?

_Mir._ Faith, a much better thing, five thousand Pounds a Year, his Coach and Six, it shews well in the _Park_.

_Geo._ Did I want Coach, or Equipage, and Shew?

_Mir._ But still there wanted Fool, and Fortune to’t; He does not play at the Groom-Porter’s for it; nor do the Drudgery of some worn-out Lady.

_Geo._ If I did this, thou hadst the spoils of all my Nation’s Conquests, while all the whole World was wondering whence it came; for Heav’n had left thee nothing but thy Beauty, that dear Reward of my industrious Love.

_Mir._ I do confess--

_Geo._ Till time had made me certain of a Fortune, which now was hasting on.--

And is that store of Love and wondrous Joys I had been hoarding up so many tender Hours, all lavish’d on a Brute, who never lusted ‘bove my Lady’s Woman? for Love he understands no more than Sense.

_Mir._ Prithee reproach me on-- [Sighs.

_Geo._ ‘Sdeath, I cou’d rave! Is this soft tender Bosom to be prest by such a Load of Fool? Damnation on thee--Where got’st thou this coarse Appetite? Take back the Powers, those Charms she’s sworn adorn’d me, since a dull, fat-fac’d, noisy, taudry Blockhead, can serve her turn as well. [Offers to go.

_Mir._ You shall not go away with that Opinion of me.--

_Geo._ Oh, that false Tongue can now no more deceive--Art thou not marry’d? Tell me that, false Charmer.

_Mir._ Yes.-- [Holding him.

_Geo._ Curse on that word: wou’d thou hadst never learnt it--it gave thy Heart, and my Repose away.

_Mir._ Dost think I marry’d with that dull design? Canst thou believe I gave my Heart away, because I gave my Hand?--Fond Ceremony that--A necessary trick, devis’d by wary Age, to traffick ‘twixt a Portion and a Jointure; him whom I lov’d, is marry’d to my Soul.

_Geo._ Art thou then mine? And wilt thou make Atonement, by such a charming way?--Come to my clasping Arms.

Enter Lady _Blunder_ at the Door. Sees ‘em, and offers to go out again.

L. _Blun._ Oh, Heavens! How rude am I?--Cry Mercy, Madam, I protest I thought you’d been alone.

_Geo._ ‘Sdeath! my Aunt _Blunder_! [Aside.

_Mir._ Only this Gentleman, Madam--

L. _Blun._ Sir, I beg your Pardon--and am really sorry--

_Geo._ That you find me with your Daughter, Madam.

L. _Blun._ I hope you take me to be better bred, Sir: Nor had I interrupted you, but for an Accident that has happen’d to Sir _Morgan_, coming out of the City in a beastly Hackney-Coach, he was turn’d over in _Cheap-side_, and striking the filthy Coach-man, the nasty Mob came out, and had almost kill’d him, but for a young Gentleman, a Stranger, that came to his Rescue, and whom he has brought to kiss your Ladyship’s Hands--But I’ll instruct him in his Duty, he shall wait till your Ladyship is more at leisure--alas! he’s already on the Stairs. [Exit.

_Mir._ Let him wait there--_Lejere_, ‘tis necessary you depart, sure of my Heart, you cannot fear the rest; the Night is hasting on; trust me but some few Hours, and then, _Lejere_, I’ll pay you back with Interest.

_Geo._ All Blessings light on thee. But will your Lady Mother make no Discovery of my being here?

_Mir._ She’d sooner pimp for me, and believe it a part of good Breeding:--away, I hear ‘em coming. [She puts him out at a back-Door.

Enter Lady _Blunder_ peeping.

L. _Blun._ He’s gone--Sir _Morgan_, you may approach.

Enter Sir _Morgan_, pulling in the _Prince_, Sir _Merlin_, and a _Page_ to the _Prince_.

Sir _Morg._ Nay, as Gat shall save me, Sir, you shall see my Lady, or so, d’ye see, and receive the Thanks of the House.

_Prince._ As Gat shall save me, Sir, I am sorry for it--another time, Sir: I have earnest business. Now, I am sure nothing worth seeing can belong to this litter of Fools.

L. _Blun._ My Daughter is a Person of Quality, I assure you, Sir.

_Prince._ I doubt it not, Madam--If she be of the same Piece--Send me a fair Deliverance. [Sir _Morgan_ leads him to _Mirtilla_, he starts. --Ha! What bright Vision’s that?

_Mir._ Heav’n! ‘Tis the lovely Prince I saw in _Flanders_. [Aside.

Sir _Mer._ Look how he stares--why, what the Devil ails he?

Sir _Morg._ To her, Sir, or so, d’ye see, what a Pox, are you afraid of her?

L. _Blun._ He’s in Admiration of her Beauty, Child.

_Prince._ By Heav’n, the very Woman I adore! [Aside.

Sir _Morg._ How d’ye, see, Sir, how do ye, ha, ha, ha?

_Prince._ I cannot be mistaken; for Heav’n made nothing but young Angels like her!

Sir _Morg._ Look ye, Page, is your Master in his right Wits?

Sir _Mer._ Sure he’s in love, and Love’s a devilish thing.

Sir _Morg._ Sa, ho, ho, ho, where are you, Sir, where are you?

_Prince._ In Heav’n! [Puts him away. Oh! do not rouse me from this charming Slumber, lest I shou’d wake, and find it but a Dream.

Sir _Mer._ A plaguy dull Fellow this, that can sleep in so good Company as we are.

Sir _Morg._ Dream--A Fiddle-stick; to her, Man, to her, and kiss her soundly, or so, d’ye see.

Sir _Mer._ Ay, ay; kiss her, Sir, kiss her--ha, ha, ha, he’s very simple.

_Prince._ Kiss her,--there’s universal Ruin in her Lips.

_Mir._ I never knew ‘em guilty of such Mischiefs.

Sir _Morg._ No, I’ll be sworn, I have kist ‘em twenty times, and they never did me harm.

_Prince._ Thou kiss those Lips? impossible, and false; they ne’er were prest but by soft _Southern_ Winds.

Sir _Morg._ _Southern_ Winds--ha, ha, lookye, d’ye see, Boy, thy Master’s mad, or so, d’ye see--why, what a Pox, d’ye think I never kiss my Wife, or so, d’ye see.

_Prince._ Thy Wife!--

_Mir._ He will betray his Passion to these Fools: Alas, he’s mad--and will undo my Hopes. [Aside.

_Prince._ Thou mayst as well claim Kindred to the Gods; she’s mine, a Kingdom shall not buy her from me.

Sir _Morg._ Hay day, my Wife yours! look ye, as d’ye see, what, is it _Midsummer-moon_ with you, Sir, or so, d’ye see?

_Mir._ In pity give him way, he’s madder than a Storm.

_Prince._ Thou know’st thou art, and thy dear Eyes confess it--a numerous Train attended our Nuptials, witness the Priest, witness the sacred Altar where we kneel’d--when the blest silent Ceremony was perform’d.

_Mir._ Alas! he’s mad, past all recovery mad.

Sir _Mer._ Mad, say, poor Soul--Friend, how long has your Master been thus intoxicated?

_Page._ He’s mad indeed to make this Discovery. [Aside. Alas, Sir, he’s thus as often as he sees a beautiful Lady, since he lost a Mistress, who dy’d in _Flanders_ to whom he was contracted.

Sir _Mer._ Good lack--ay, ay, he’s distracted, it seems.

_Page._ See how he kneels to her! stand off, and do but mind him.

_Mir._ Rise, Sir,--you’l ruin me--dissemble if you love--or you can ne’er be happy. [In a low Voice, and raising him.

_Prince._ My Transport is too high for a Disguise--give me some hope, promise me some Relief, or at your Feet I’ll pierce a wounded Heart.

_Mir._ Rise, and hope for all you wish: Alas, he faints-- [She takes him up, he falls upon her Bosom.

_Page._ Hold him fast, Madam, between your Arms, and he’ll recover presently. Stand all away.--

_Prince._ Oh! tell me, wilt thou bless my Youth and Love? Oh! swear, lest thou shouldst break--for Women wou’d be Gods, but for Inconstancy.

_Page._ See, he begins to come to himself again--keep off--

_Mir._ You have a thousand Charms that may secure you--The Ceremony of my Nuptials is every Evening celebrated, the noise of which draws all the Town together; be here in Masquerade, and I’ll contrive it so, that you shall speak with me this Night alone.

_Prince._ So, now let my Soul take Air--

L. _Blun._ What pity ‘tis so fine a Gentleman shou’d be thus.

_Mir._ You must be bringing home your Fops to me, and see what comes of it. [As she passes out.

Sir _Morg._ Fops! I thought him no more a Fop, than I do my own natural Cousin here. [Ex. _Mir._ in Scorn.

_Prince._ Where am I? [The _Page_ has whispered him.

Sir _Mer._ Why, here, Sir, here, at Sir _Morgan Blunder’s_ Lodging in _Lincolns-Inn-Fields_.

_Prince._ That’s well, he has told me--Where have I been this long half hour, and more?

Sir _Mer._ Nay, the Lord knows.

_Prince._ I fancy’d I saw a lovely Woman.

Sir _Mer._ Fancy’d--why, so you did, Man, my Lady _Mirtilla Blunder_.

_Prince._ Methought I slept upon her snowy Bosom, and dreamt I was in Heaven, where I claim’d her.

Sir _Mer._ Good lack aday--why, so you did, Sir, ha, ha, ha.

_Prince._ And rav’d on Love; and talk’d abundance of Nonsense.

Sir _Morg._ Ha, ha, ha, by my Troth, and so you did, Sir.

_Prince._ I ask your Pardon, Sir, ‘tis an infirmity I have that ever takes me at the approach of a fine Woman, which made me so unwilling to see your Lady.

Sir _Morg._ Lookye, I ask your Pardon heartily, or so, d’ye see--and am sorry you are not in a Condition to visit her often.

_Prince._ I shall be better when I am us’d to her; ‘tis the first time only affects me.

Sir _Morg._ Pray, Sir, be pleas’d to use your self to her, or so, d’ye see--she’s a civil Person, and a Person of Quality before I marry’d her, d’ye see.

L. _Blun._ My Son tells you Truth, Sir.

_Prince._ Madam, I doubt it not, pray beg her Pardon, and do you give me yours. [Bows and kisses her Hand and goes out.

L. _Blun._ A most accomplish’d Person--

[Exeunt.

## SCENE III. Another Chamber.

Enter _Olivia_ and _Teresia_, in Mens Clothes.

_Oliv._ Well, the Ball does not begin these three Hours, and we’ll divert our selves at my Aunt’s Basset-Table, which you see is preparing; her natural Propensity to oblige both Sexes makes her keep a Bank on purpose to bring ‘em together. There we shall see the old and the young, the ugly and the handsome, Fools that have Money, and Wits that have none; and if the Table affords nothing to please the Appetite, we’ll abroad for Forage.

Enter Sir _Merlin_ pulling in _George_, follow’d by Sir _Morgan_, Page and Footmen to _George_.

Sir _Mer._ Nay, Sir, I am resolv’d you shall honour my Aunt’s Basset-Table--

_Geo._ My Aunt’s Basset-Table? There may be Money stirring among these Fools, and Fortune may befriend me. [Aside.

Sir _Mer._ Sir _Morgan_, pray know this worthy Gentleman, I have the honour to lodge in the House with him. [They salute one another. Sir, this is Sir _Morgan Blunder_, a Person of Quality in _Wales_, I assure you.

_Geo._ I question it not, Sir, and am proud of the Honour of kissing your Hands.

_Ter._ Yonder’s a handsom Gentleman.

_Oliv._ My Brother _George_, as I live, ‘tis as I cou’d wish. [Aside.

Enter _Welborn_.

_Wel._ _Lejere!_

_Geo._ _Welborn!_ Welcome from _Paris_, I heard of your arrival from Prince _Frederick_.

_Wel._ Yes, I am come to my Destruction, Friend.

_Geo._ Ay, thou’rt to be marry’d, I hear, to a _Welch_ Fortune.

_Wel._ Though Matrimony be a sufficient Curse, yet that’s not the worst--I am fall’n most damnably in love, since I arriv’d, with a young Creature I saw in the _Mall_ t’other Night; of Quality she was, I dare swear, by all that was about her; but such a Shape! a Face! a Wit! a Mind, as in a moment quite subdu’d my Heart: she had another Lady with her, whom (dogging her Coach) I found to be a Neighbour of mine, and Grand-Daughter to the Lady _Youthly_; but who my Conqueror was I never since could learn.

_Oliv._ ‘Slife, _Teresia_, yonder’s the handsom Fellow that entertain’d us with so much Wit, on _Thursday_ last in the _Mall_.

_Ter._ What, when you chang’d your Breeches for Petticoats at my Lodgings.

_Oliv._ That Night, and ever since, I have felt a sort of a Tendre for him.

_Ter._ As I do for his Friend--Pray Heav’n he be not marry’d! I fear he has laid an Imbargo on my Heart, before it puts out of the Port.

_Geo._ Are you not for the Basset?

_Wel._ No, I’ve business at the Ball to night; besides, my Lady _Blunder_ has a Quarrel to me for last Night’s Debauch; I’ll wait on you in the Morning. [Exit _Welborn_.

_Geo._ Well, you to your Business, and I to mine. [Speaks as the rest go out. Let the dull trading Fool by Business live, Statesmen by Plots; the Courtier cringe to thrive; The Fop of Noise and Wealth be cullied on, And purchase no one Joy by being undone, Whilst I by nobler careless ways advance, Since Love and Fortune are acquir’d by Chance.

[Exeunt Omnes.

_The End of the Second Act._

A Song, sung by Sir _Rowland_ in the second Act.

To _TERESIA_.

_Though the Young prize _Cupid’s_ Fire, ‘Tis more valu’d by the Old; The Sun’s Warmth we now admire, More than when the Season’s cold._

_Dialogues in the Masque, at the beginning of the third Act._

_He._ Time and Place you see conspire, With tender Wishes, fierce Desire; See the willing Victim stands To be offer’d by your Hands: Ah! Let me on Love’s Altars lying, Clasp my Goddess whilst I’m dying.

_She._ Oh Lord! what hard words, and strange things d’ye say; Your Eyes too seem closing, and just dying away: Ah! pray what d’ye want? Explain but your mind, Which did I but know, perhaps I’d be kind.

_He._ My pretty soft Maid, full of innocent Charms, I languish to sigh out my Soul in thy Arms; Oh! then, if I’m lov’d, deny not the Bliss, But tell me I’m happy, with a ravishing Kiss.

_She._ Oh! Fy, Sir, I vow I cannot endure you; Be civil, or else I’ll cry out I assure you; I will not be kiss’d so, nor tumbled, not I, I’ll tell all your tricks, that I will, if I die.

_He._ Nay, never dissemble, nor smother that Fire; Your Blushes, and Eyes betray your Desire. The Practis’d, not Innocent, dally with Bliss, Then prithee be kind, and taste what it is.

_She._ Let me die now, you’re grown a strange sort of a Man, To force a young Maid, let her do what she can; I fear now I blush to think what we’re doing, And is this the end of all you Men’s wooing?

_He._ At this Pleasure all aim, both Godly and Sinners, And none of ‘em blush for’t but poor young Beginners. In Pleasure both Sexes, all Ages agree, And those that take most, most happy will be.

_Chorus_. In Pleasure both Sexes, &c.

## ACT III.

## SCENE I. A rich Chamber.

Enter _Olivia_ as a Man, _Teresia_ in Masquerade; the Scene opens, and discovers Lady _Youthly_, Lady _Blunder_, _Mirtilla_, _Manage_, Prince _Frederick_ in a rich Habi, _Welborn_ in one like his, with a Cloke over him, stands aside, and several others of both Sexes.

_Oliv._ Oh, my dear _Teresia_, I’m lost in Love! I’ve seen a Man,--or rather ‘tis an Angel! so gay, so soft, so charming, and so witty; so dress’d! so shap’d! and danc’d with such an Air!

_Ter._ Hey day! Prithee where’s this Wonder to be seen?

_Oliv._ Why dost thou ask? Hast thou not seen a Man of Dress, and Movement of uncommon Fashion?

_Ter._ A great many, very odd, and fantastick, I’m sure my dear Man is none of ‘em. [Sighs.

_Oliv._ Thy Heart when fir’d burns easily, and soft, but I am all impatient, Darts, and Flames, and all the effects of Love are panting in my Heart, yet never saw his Face: but see, he comes, and I must find a way to let him know the mischiefs he has done.

_Mir._ _Endimion_, where’s Sir _Morgan_?

_Oliv._ At his usual Diversion, Madam, drinking.

_Mir._ Do you wait near me to Night, I may perhaps have kinder Business for you e’er the Morning.

_Oliv._ You heap too many Blessings on me, Madam.

_Prince._ Oh, turn thy lovely Eyes upon thy Slave, that waits and watches for a tender Look.

_Mir._ Oh, Sir, why do you press a yielding Heart too much, undone by what you’ve said already?

_Oliv._ Those soft Addresses must be those of Love. [Aside.

_Mir._ My Honour was in danger when I promis’d--and yet I blush to tell you I was pleas’d, and blest the dear necessity that forc’d me.

_Oliv._ Ha! ‘tis the Man I love--and courts _Mirtilla_, and she receives him with inviting Looks. ‘Sdeath, she’s a common Lover! already I’m arriv’d to Jealousy!

Enter _George_ in Masquerade, with a Paper on his Back and Breast, goes to _Mirtilla_, sees one courting her.

_Geo._ What gilded thing is that?--I must disturb ‘em--’Tis I, _Mirtilla_, languishing for the appointed Happiness, while you, perhaps, are taken up with different Thoughts--

_Mir._ _Lejere!_ How very feeble do old Lovers charm! Only the new and gay have pow’r to warm--How shall I put him off? For now my ambitious Love declares for _Frederick_; ‘tis great to enslave a Prince. [Aside. --_Lejere_--wait till I give the word--perhaps it may be late--go mix your self i’th’ Crowd, you may be else suspected-- [Goes from him.

_Ter._ I have a shreud guess that this should be my Man by his Shape, and Mein. [Looking round about _George_. Let me see--What’s this written on his Back?--To be lett ready furnish’d-- [Reading it. A very good hearing: So ho, ho, ho, who’s within here? [Claps him on the Back.

_Geo._ Who’s there? [Exit _Olivia_.

_Ter._ Love and Fortune.

_Geo._ Two very good Friends of mine, prithee who art thou that bring’st ’.m?

_Ter._ A wandring Nymph, that has had a swinging Character of your Person and Parts--if thou be’st the Man, prithee, dear Stranger, let me see thy Face; and if I’m not mistaken, ‘tis ten to one, but we may go near to strike up some odd Bargain or other.

_Geo._ And I am as likely a Fellow for some odd Bargain or other, as ever you met with--Look ye, am I the Man?

_Ter._ Let me see--a very handsome Face, inclining to round; fine wanton Eyes, with a plaguy Roguish Lear; plump, round, red Lips; not tall, nor low, and extremely well fashion’d. [Reads all this in her Tablets. --Ay, ay, you are the Man--

_Geo._ I am glad on’t, and prithee, dear Creature, let me see if thou art not the Woman--

_Ter._ Heav’n! what Woman, Sir?

_Geo._ Why, any Woman that’s pretty, witty, young, and good-natur’d.

_Ter._ I had rather shew anything almost than my Face.

_Geo._ Faith, and that’s kind; but every thing in its due time: I love to arrive at Happiness by degrees, there’s as much Pleasure in the Journey of Love, as in the Arrival to’t, and the first Stage is a handsom Face.

_Ter._ Where you bait a while, take a short Survey, and away.

_Geo._ To Wit, and good Humour; where a Man finds Pleasure enough to engage him a long while.

_Ter._ Then to all the small Villages, call’d little Freedoms, Kissing, Playing, Fooling, Sighing, Dying--and so on to the last Stage, where Whip and Spur laid by, all tir’d and dull, you lazily lie down and sleep.

_Geo._ No, I’m a more vigorous Lover: And since in the Country of True Love there remains a _Terra Incognita_, I shall always be making new Discoveries.

_Ter._ True Love! is there such a thing in the whole Map of Nature?

_Geo._ Yes, I once discover’d it in my Voyage round the World.

_Ter._ Sure ‘tis some enchanted Place, and vanishes as soon as ‘tis approach’d.

Enter Sir _Rowland_.

_Geo._ Faith, let’s set out for it, and try; if we lose our Labour, we shall, like Searchers for the Philosophers Stone, find something that will recompense our pains.-- [Lady _Youthly_ sees her, and sends her Woman to take her from him. Ha, gone--I must not part so with you--I’ll have you in my Eye. [The _Spanish_ Dance: Whilst they dance, the _Prince_ talks to _Mirtilla_.

_Mir._ This Night gives you an Assignation--I tremble at the thought--Ah, why will you pursue me thus to Ruin? Why with resistless Charms invade my Heart, that cannot stand their Force--alone--without my Woman?--the Enterprize with you would be too dangerous.

_Prince._ Dangerous to be ador’d! and at your Feet behold your Slave making eternal Vows?

_Mir._ If I were sure that you would pass no further--

_Prince._ Let the fond God of Love be my Security--will you not trust a Deity?

_Mir._ Whom should she trust, that dares not trust her self?

_Geo._ That is some Lover, whom I must observe. [Aside.

_Mir._ Alas, the Foe’s within that will betray me, Ambition, and our Sex’s Vanity--Sir, you must prevail--

_Prince._ And in return, for ever take my Soul.

_Mir._ Anon I’ll feign an Illness, and retire to my Apartment, whither this faithful Friend shall bring you, Sir. [Pointing to _Manage_.

_Geo._ Hum!--that looks like some Love Bargain, and _Manage_ call’d to Witness. By Heav’n, gay Sir, I’ll watch you.

_Ter._ But hark ye, my Fellow-Adventurer, are you not marry’d?

_Geo._ Marry’d--that’s a Bug-word--prithee if thou hast any such Design, keep on thy Mask, lest I be tempted to Wickedness.

_Ter._ Nay, truth is, ‘tis a thousand pities to spoil a handsom man, to make a dull Husband of: I have known an old batter’d Bully of Seventy, unmarry’d, more agreeable for a Gallant, than any scurvy, out-of-humour’d Husband at Eight and Twenty.

_Geo._ Gad, a thousand times.

_Ter._ Know, I have Five Hundred Pounds a Year.

_Geo._ Good.

_Ter._ And the Devil and all of Expectations from an old Woman.

_Geo._ Very good.

_Ter._ And this Youth, and little Beauty to lay out in love. [Pulls off her Mask.

_Geo._ _Teresia!_ the lovely Maid design’d for my Mother! now, what a Dog am I? that gives me the greater Gust to her, and wou’d fain cuckold my Father. [Talks to her aside. _Mirtilla_ seems to faint.

_Man._ My Lady faints--help, help.

_Mir._ Only the Heat oppresses me--but let it not disturb the Company, I’ll take the Air a little, and return. [Goes out with _Manage_.

_Geo._ Is this design’d or real?--perhaps she is retir’d for me--Mrs. _Manage_.-- [_Manage_ re-enters, he pulls her by the Sleeve.

_Man._ Hah! Monsieur _Lejere_! what shall I feign to put him off withal. [Aside.

_Geo._ Why dost thou start? How does my dear _Mirtilla_?

_Man._ Reposing, Sir, awhile, but anon I’ll wait on her for your admittance. [Prince _Frederick_ puts on _Welborn’s_ Cloke, goes out, and _Welborn_ enters into the Company dress’d like the _Prince_.

_Geo._ Ha, she spoke in passing by that gay thing--What means it, but I’ll trace the Mystery.

Sir _Row._ The young People are lazy, and here’s nothing but gaping and peeping in one another’s Vizards; come, Madam, let you and I shame ‘em into Action. [Sir _Rowland_ and Lady _Youthly_ dance. After the Dance, _Olivia_ enters with a Letter, and gives it to _Welborn_.

_Wel._ Ha! what’s this, Sir, a Challenge?

_Oliv._ A soft one, Sir.

_Wel._ A Billet--whoever the Lady be, [Reads. She merits something for but believing I am worth her Mirth.

_Oliv._ I know not, Sir, how great a Jest you may make of it; but I assure you the Lady is in earnest, and if you be at leisure to hear Reason from her--

_Wel._ Fair and softly, my dear Love-Messenger, I am for no hasty Bargains; not but I shou’d be glad to hear Reason from any of the Sex--But I have been so damnably jilted--Is she of Quality?

_Oliv._ Yes.

_Wel._ Then I’ll not hear any thing from her: they are troublesome, and insolent; and if she have a Husband, to hide her Intrigues she has recourse to all the little Arts and Cunnings of her Sex; and she that jilts her Husband, will her Lover.

_Oliv._ She is not troubled with a Husband, Sir.

_Wel._ What, she’s parted from the Fool! then she’s expensive, and for want of Alimony, jilts all the believing Block-heads that she meets with.

_Oliv._ But this is a Maid, Sir.

_Wel._ Worse still! At every turn she’s raving on her Honour; then if she have a Kinsman, or a Brother, I must be challeng’d.

_Oliv._ Sir, you mistake, my Lady is for Matrimony.

_Wel._ How!

_Oliv._ You have not forsworn it, I hope.

_Wel._ Not so--but--

_Oliv._ If a Lady, young and handsom, and Ten Thousand Pounds--

_Wel._ Nay, I am not positive--

Enter Sir _Morgan_, and Sir _Merlin_, drunk, singing.

_Wise Coxcombs be damn’d, here’s a health to the Man, That since Life is but short, lives as long as he can._

Sir _Morg._ Where is my Lady _Mirtilla_, Rogues?

Sir _Mer._ And my Mistress, Rascals? For we are resolv’d to shew our selves in Triumph to our Wives and Mistresses.

L. _Youth._ Your Mistress, Sir _Merlin_? mistake not your Mark.

Sir _Mer._ Ha! Art thou there, old Cathedral? Why, thou look’st as magnificiently as old Queen _Bess_ in the _Westminster_-Cupboard.

Sir _Morg._ Lookye as de see, when _Adam_ wore a Beard, she was in her Prime, or so, de see. [Sings.

L. _Youth._ Sir, you are a saucy _Jack_, and your Father shall correct you.

Sir _Mer._ My Father! my Father’s an old Toast, de see; and I hope to see him hang’d.

Sir _Row._ Here’s a Heathen-Christian! see his Father hang’d!

Sir _Mer._ Ay, hang’d, and all the old Fathers in _Christendom_. Why, what a Pox shou’d Fathers trouble the World for? when I come to reign in Parliament, I will enact it Felony, for any Father to have so little Grace to live, that has a Son at Years of Discretion.

Sir _Row._ A damn’d Rogue, I’ll disinherit him immediately.

L. _Blun._ Is it so great a Crime, Brother, for a Gentleman to be drunk?

Sir _Mer._ You lye like a Son of a Whore--I have been drinking Confusion to all the Fathers and Husbands in _England_.

Sir _Morg._ How, Sir, Confusion to Husbands! Look ye, de see, Sir, swallow me that Word, or I’ll make you deposit all the conjugal Wine you have drunk.

Sir _Mer._ I deposit all your Wine! Sirrah, you’re a Blunderbuss.

Sir _Morg._ Sirrah, you are a diminutive Bully.

Sir _Mer._ Sirrah, you’re the Whore of _Babylon_, and I defy you.

Sir _Morg._ Lookye, de see, I scorn to draw upon a drunken Man, or so, I being sober; but I boldly challenge you into the Cellar, where thou shalt drink till thou renounce thy Character, or talk Treason enough to hang thee, and that’s fair and civil.

Sir _Mer._ Agreed; and when I’m drunk enough to ravish, I’ll cuckold my old Dad, and fight him for his Mistress.

Sir _Row._ I have no Patience; I’ll kill the Dog, because I’ll have the Law on my side--Come on, Sir. [Draws, the Ladies run out. Sir _Merlin_ draws. _George_ runs in and parts ‘em.

_Geo._ Villain! Rascal! What, draw upon thy Father!

Sir _Row._ Pray, Sir, who are you? that I may thank you for my Life.

_Geo._ One, Sir, whose Duty ‘twas. [Pulls off his Vizard.

Sir _Row._ What, my dear _George_!--I’ll go and cut off the Intail of my Estate presently, and thou shalt have it all, Boy, thou shalt--

[Exeunt all but _George_.

_Geo._ Fortune is still my Friend: Had but Mirtilla been so! I wonder that she sends not to me: my Love’s impatient, and I cannot wait--while the dull Sot is boozing with his Brother-Fools in the Cellar, I’ll softly to the Chamber of my Love--Perhaps she waits me there-- [Exit.

## SCENE II. _A Chamber, and Alcove, discovers _Mirtilla_ and Prince

_Frederick_._

_Prince._ Oh! I am ravish’d with excess of Joy.

_Mir._ Enough, my charming Prince! Oh, you have said enough.

_Prince._ Never, my _Mirtilla_!

The Sun that views the World, nor the bright Moon, that favours Lovers Stealths, shall ever see that Hour. Vast, as thy Beauties, are my young Desires; and every new Possession kindles new Flames, soft as thy Eyes, soft as thy tender Touches; and e’er the Pantings of my Heart are laid, new Transports, from new Wishes, dance about it, and still remain in Love’s harmonious Order. [Kisses and embraces her.

Enter _George_, softly.

_Geo._ This House I know, and this should be her Bed-Chamber, because the best; and yet methought I heard another Voice--but I may be mistaken.

_Prince._ I faint with Pleasure of each tender Clasp; I sigh, and languish, gazing on thy Eyes! and die upon thy Lips, with every Kiss.

_Geo._ Surely I know that Voice! Torments, and Hell!--but ‘tis impossible. [Aside.

_Prince._ Oh! satisfy my Doubt, my trembling Doubt! Am I belov’d? Have I about me ought engaging to thee, Charmer of my Soul?

_Geo._ It is the Prince. [Aside.

_Mir._ Ah, Prince! Can you such needless Questions ask, after the Sacrifice which I have made?

_Geo._ Hell take thee for that Falshood. [Draws.

_Mir._ Think not the mighty Present of your Jewels, enough to purchase Provinces, has bought one single Sigh, or Wish: No, my dear Prince, you owe ‘em all to Love, and your own Charms.

_Geo._ Oh, damn’d, dissembling Jilt! [Aside.

_Prince._ No more, no more, my Soul’s opprest with Joy: let me unload it in thy tender Arms, and sigh it out into thy ravishing Bosom.

_Geo._ Death, and Damnation!--

I shall forget his Quality and Virtue, forget he was my Friend, or sav’d this Life; and like a River, swell’d with angry Tides, o’erflow those Banks that made the Stream so gay.

_Mir._ Who’s there?--I heard a Voice--_Manage_?

_Geo._ Yes. [Softly.

_Prince._ Approach, thou Confident of all my Joys; approach, and be rewarded-- [_Prince_ takes his Jewel from his Hat.

_Geo._ Yes, for my excellent Bauding--By Heav’n, I dare not touch his princely Person.

_Prince._ Where art thou? take this Jewel and retire. [Gropes for his Hand, gives it him.

_Geo._ E’en my Misfortunes have a sort of Luck; but I’ll withdraw, for fear this Devil about me shou’d raise my too rash Hand against his Life. [Exit.

_Prince._ Come, my eternal Pleasure--each Moment of the happy Lover’s Hour, is worth an Age of dull, and common Life.

[Exeunt into the Alcove, the Scene shuts.

## SCENE III. A Garden by Night still.

Enter _George_ with his Sword in his Hand, as before.

_Geo._ Why do I vainly call for Vengeance down, and have it in my Hand?--By Heav’n, I’ll back--Whither? To kill a Woman, a young perjur’d Woman!--Oh, ye false Fair Ones! shou’d we do you Justice, a universal Ruin wou’d ensue; not one wou’d live to stock the World anew. Who is’t among ye All, ye Fair Deceivers, ye charming Mischiefs to the noble Race, can swear she’s Innocent, without Damnation? No, no, go on--be false--be fickle still: You act but Nature--But, my faithless Friend--where I repose the secrets of my Soul--except this one--Alas! he knew not this:--Why do I blame him then?

Enter _Olivia_, dress’d as before.

_Oliv._ Fire! Fire! Fire!

_Geo._ _Olivia’s_ Voice!--Ha! what art thou? Thy Voice shou’d be _Olivia’s_, but thy Shape--and yet a Woman is all o’er Disguise.

Enter Lady _Blunder_ in her Night-Gown.

L. _Blun._ Fire! Fire! Fire! My Son, my dear Sir _Morgan._

Enter Sir _Rowland_, and Servants.

Sir _Row._ A Pox on your Son, and mine to boot; they have set all the Sack-Butts a Flaming in the Cellar, thence the Mischief began. _Timothy_, _Roger_, _Jeffrey_, my Money-Trunks, ye Rogues! my money-Trunks!

L. _Blun._ My Son, good _Roger_! my own Sir _Moggy_!

Sir _Row._ The ten thousand Pounds, ye Rascal, in the Iron Trunk, that was to be paid Mr. _Welborn_ for _Olivia’s_ Portion. [Exit.

L. _Blun._ Oh my Son! my Son!--run to the Parson, _Sam_, and let him send the Church-Buckets. Oh, some help! some help!

Enter _Manage_.

_Man._ Oh, Heavens! my Lady _Mirtilla’s_ Chamber’s all on Flame.

Enter _Britton_.

_Geo._ Ha,--the Prince! I had forgot his Danger.

_Man._ Ah! look up, and see how it burns.

_Geo._ _Britton_, a Million for a Ladder!

_Man._ Blessing on you, Sir, if you dare venture through the House; there lies one in the Fore-Garden.

_Britt._ The Passage is on fire, Sir, you cannot go.

_Geo._ Revenge is vanish’d, and Love takes its place: Soft Love, and mightier Friendship seizes all. I’ll save him, though I perish in the Attempt. [Runs out, _Britton_ after him.

Enter at another Door, Sir _Rowland_.

L. _Blun._ A thousand Pound for him that saves Sir _Morgan_!

Sir _Row._ And, do ye hear, let my Rogue lie; I’d rather he should be burnt, than hang’d on _Tyburn_ Road, for murdering his Father.--But where’s Boy _George_?

Enter Men with Trunks.

_Rog._ Safe, Sir, I hope; he was not in the House.

Sir _Row._ So, so, away with these Trunks to my Lady _Youthly’s_ in _Southampton_-Square, and tell her we must trouble her to night. Come, Sister, let’s away.

[Ex. Lady _Blunder_, and Sir _Rowland_.

Prince _Frederick_ and _Mirtilla_, appear at the Window, the Flame behind ‘em.

_Prince._ Help, help, and save _Mirtilla_! Ask any Price, my Life, my Fortune! All!

_Mir._ Oh, Heav’ns, the Flame pursues us as we fly.

_Prince._ No help! Oh Gods, I shall prevent the Flame, and perish by my Fears to see you die!

_Mir._ Alas! Sir, you with ease may save your Life! This Window you may leap, but I want Courage.

_Prince._ No, my _Mirtilla_, if it be thy Fate, I’ll grasp thee, ev’n in Flames, and die with thee.

_Mir._ We die! we die! the Flame takes hold of us.

Enter _George_ with a Ladder, and puts it to the Window.

_Prince._ Ha! some pitying God takes care of us. Haste, haste, my Charmer; Heav’n has sent us Aid.

[Puts her on the Ladder, she descends into _George’s_ Arms; after her, the _Prince_. _George_ puts her into _Manage’s_ Arms, she faints; he runs up to receive the _Prince_.

_Prince._ _Lejere!_ dear Man of Luck--Some happy Star reign’d at thy glorious Birth; every thing is prosperous thou espousest.--How fares my Love, the Treasure of my Soul?

_Man._ Only fainting with the Fright, but she recovers.

_Prince._ My Chair there, quickly, that waits for me.--

Enter Chair; he puts her, and _Manage_ into it.

Enter _Olivia_.

Carry ‘em to Mr. _Welborn’s_, to my Lodgings there, and then return to me; for I am wondrous faint, and cannot walk.

_Oliv._ Ha! by my Life, my Man!

_Prince._ But if I might impose so much, _Lejere_, upon thy Friendship, I beg thou wouldst see her safely carry’d to my Lodgings at _Welborn’s_.

_Geo._ You shall command me, Sir.

[Exeunt Chair, _George_ and _Britton_.

_Oliv._ You seem not well, Sir, pray repose upon my Arm a while.

_Prince._ I thank you, Sir, indeed I am not well.

_Oliv._ Methinks I find a Pleasure but in touching him--Wou’d I cou’d see his Face by all this fatal Light.

Enter _Constable_ and Watch.

_Const._ So, so, the Fire abates, the Engines play’d rarely, and we have Ten Guineas here, Neighbours, to watch about the House; for where there’s Fire, there’s Rogues--Hum, who have we here?--How now, Mr.--Hum, what have you got under your Arm there, ha? Take away this Box of Jewels. [Sir _Morgan_, and Sir _Merlin_, creeping out of the Cellar Window. Ha, who have we here creeping out of the Cellar-Window? more Rogues!

Sir _Mer._ Sirrah! you’re a Baud, Sirrah! and for a Tester will wink at the Vices of the Nation, Sirrah! Call men of the best Quality Rogues! that have stood for Knights of the Shire, and made the Mobile drunk, Sirrah!

_Const._ We cry you Mercy, Sir, we did not know your Worships.

Sir _Morg._ Lookye, de see, here’s a Crown for you; carry us to the next Tavern, and we’ll make thee, and all thy Mirmidons, as drunk as a Boat in a Storm.

_Oliv._ Sir, I find you have Interest with these arbitrary Tyrants of the Parish; pray will you bail me, and this Gentleman?

Sir _Mer._ What, _Endimion_! my Lady _Mirtilla’s_ Page? He lent me Money to Night at the Basset-Table; I’ll be bound Hand and Foot for him, Mr. Constable, and, gad, we’ll all to the Tavern, and drink up the Sun, Boys.

_Oliv._ Yonder Gentleman too has receiv’d some hurt by the Fire, and must go home, Sir; but you must restore him the Box, Mr. Constable.

Sir _Morg._ Ay, ay, lookye, de see, return the Gentleman all; they’re Gentlemen, and our intimate Friends, d’ye see.

[Exeunt _Prince_, and _Olivia_.

Enter a _Servant_.

_Const._ Stand: Who goes there?

Sir _Morg._ _Philip_--Lookye, d’ye see, he shall along with us to the Tavern.

_Serv._ Sir _Morgan_, I came to seek you: your Lady Mother sent me back on purpose; she has spoil’d her Beauty with crying for you.

Sir _Morg._ And wash’d off all her Paint?--Or so, de see! Gad sa’ me, _Philip_, this is ill Luck. Come, let us go drink down Sorrow.

_Serv._ Being sent of such an Errand, as your Safety, Sir, I dare not stay and drink now, before I’ve satisfy’d your Mother.

Sir _Mer._ Not drink! I charge you in the King’s Name, Mr. Constable, bring him along. [The _Constable_ and Watch seize him.

Sings.

_Wise Coxcombs be damn’d, here’s a Health to the Man, That since Life is but short, lives as long as he can._

[Exeunt.

## ACT IV.

## SCENE I. _The _Prince’s_ Lodgings_.

Enter Page with Lights, sets ‘em on the Table. [Ex.

Enter _Mirtilla_, led by Mrs. _Manage_.

_Mir._ Ha! where am I, _Manage_?

_Man._ Heav’n be thanked, Madam, at the Prince’s Lodgings.

_Mir._ What happy Star conducted us, and sav’d us from the Fury of the Flames?

_Man._ Those whose Influence are always gracious to your Ladyship.

_Mir._ But where’s the Prince? where’s my illustrious Lover?

_Man._ Waiting the Return of the Chair, Madam.

_Mir._ But my _Endimion_?--Is _Endimion_ safe?

_Man._ Madam, he is: I saw him in the Garden.

_Mir._ Then perish all the rest--Go send to search him out, and let him instantly be brought to me--Hah--_Lejere_.

Enter _George_.

_Geo._ Baud, stand aside--and do your Office yonder-- [Puts away _Manage_. Why are you frighted, Madam, because I’m not the Lover you expected?

_Mir._ What Lover! be witness, Heaven--

_Geo._ That thou art false, false as the insatiate Seas, that smiling tempt the vain Adventurer, whom flattering, far from any saving there, swell their false Waves to a destructive Storm.

_Mir._ Why all this mighty Rage?--Because I disappointed you to night?

_Geo._ No, by Heaven, I dully cou’d have waited for the Hour; have hop’d, and wish’d, and languish’d out an Age. But, oh _Mirtilla_! Oh thou perjur’d Fair!--But vanish all the Softness of my Soul, I will be satirical.

_A Plague, a Torment, to your fickle Sex,_ _Those smiling, sighing, weeping Hypocrites._

_Mir._ And can you think my Flight is criminal? because I sav’d this worthless Life--for you--

_Geo._ What Innocence adorns her Tongue, and Eyes! while Hell and Furies give her Heart its motion. You know not where you are?

_Mir._ Perhaps I do not.

_Geo._ Swear, for thou’rt damn’d already, and by what black Degrees I will unfold: When first I saw this gay, this glorious Mischief, though nobly born, ‘twas hid in mean Obscurity; the shining Viper lay half dead with Poverty, I took it up, and laid it next my Heart, fed it, and call’d its faded Beauties back.

_Mir._ Confess’d; And what of this?

_Geo._ Confirm’d you mine, by all the Obligations Profuseness cou’d invent, or Love inspire.

_Mir._ And yet at your Return you found me marry’d to another.

_Geo._ Death and Hell! that was not yet the worst: You flatter’d me with some Pretence of Penitence; but on the Night, the dear destructive Night, you rais’d my Hopes to all distracting Love cou’d wish--that very Night--Oh, let me rave and die, and never think that Disappointment o’er!

_Mir._ What, you saw me courted at the Ball, perhaps.

_Geo._ Perhaps I saw it in your Chamber too. Breathless and panting, with new-acted Joys, the happy Lover lay--Oh _Mirtilla_!

_Mir._ Nay, if he knows it, I’ll deny’t no more. [Aside.

_Geo._ There is no Honesty in all thy Kind.

_Mir._ Or if there be, those that deal in’t are weary of their Trade. But where’s the mighty Crime?

_Geo._ No, I expect thou shouldst out-face my Eyes, out-swear my Hearing, and out-lye my Senses.--The Prince! the Prince! thou faithless dear destruction.

_Mir._ The Prince! good Heaven! Is all this Heat for him?

_Geo._ Thou own’st the Conquest then?

_Mir._ With as much Vanity as thou wouldst do, if thou hadst won his Sword: Hast thou took care wisely to teach me all the Arts of Life, and dost thou now upbraid my Industry? Look round the World, and thou shalt see, _Lejere_, Ambition still supplies the place of Love. The worn-out Lady, that can serve your Interest, you swear has Beauties that out-charms Fifteen; and for the Vanity of Quality, you feign and languish, lye, protest, and flatter--All Things in Nature cheat, or else are cheated.

_Geo._ Well said; take off thy Veil, and shew the Jilt.

_Mir._ You never knew a Woman thrive so well by real Love, as by Dissimulation: This has a thousand Arts and Tricks to conquer; appears in any Shape, in any Humour; can laugh or weep, be coy or play, by turns, as suits the Lover best, while simple Love has only one Road of Sighs and Softness; these to _Lejere_ are due: But all my Charms, and Arts of gay dissembling, are for the credulous Prince.--Ha--he’s here!--and with him the dear Youth that has enslav’d me, who triumphs o’er the rest. [Aside.

Enter Prince _Frederick_, _Olivia_ following, sees _Mirtilla_, and withdraws.

_Oliv._ Ha! _Mirtilla_, and my Brother here? Oh, how I long to see that Stranger’s Face. [Aside.

_Prince._ _Mirtilla_, thou Charmer of Life’s dull and tedious Hours, how fares thy Heart? Dwells any Pantings there, but those that Love, and his dear Joys create?

_Mir._ Or if there do, you shou’d excuse it now.

_Geo._ How many Devils reign in beauteous Woman!

_Prince._ My dear _Lejere_, congratulate my Joys; take all my Friendship thou--but thou my Soul. Come, come, my Friend, let us retire together; I’ll give thee leave to gaze upon my Heaven, and feed on all the Sweets that Friendship may: But all the rest of the vast Store is mine.

_Man._ Madam, _Endimion_ is already here. [Aside to her.

_Mir._ Thou hast reviv’d me--Let him wait my Call. [Exit _Prince_ with _Mirtilla_, _George_ goes out, and peeps at the Door. _Olivia_ comes forward.

_Oliv._ Spite, Spite, and dire Revenge seize my fond Soul!--Oh, that I were a Man, a loose leud Man; how easily wou’d I rob him of her Heart, and leave him but the shadow of Enjoyment!

Re-enter _George_.

_Geo._ Now, my dear Sister, if thou ever lov’dst me, revenge thy Brother on this perjur’d Woman, and snatch her from this gallant Rival’s Arms. She loves thee--Dissemble thou to love again; meet her Advances with an equal Ardour, and when thou hast wound her up to dalliance, I’ll bring the Prince a witness of her Shame.

_Oliv._ But what if he shou’d kill me--

_Geo._ I’ll take care of that.

_Oliv._ Then e’er the morning dawns, you shall behold it: She languishes to see me, and I wait on purpose for her Commands.

_Geo._ As I cou’d wish: Be sure to act the Lover well. [Exit.

_Oliv._ As well as I can act it.

Enter _Welborn_, habited as last.

That all Mankind are damn’d, I’m positive; at least all Lovers are.

_Wel._ What have we here? the Spark that rally’d me about a Woman at the Ball to night? Who is it, Sir, you curse so heartily.

_Oliv._ Ha, how beautiful he is--how many Charms dwell in that lovely Face-- [Aside. ‘Tis you I curse.

_Wel._ Gad, I thank you for that, you were kinder to night, when you told me of a fine Woman that was in love with me.

_Oliv._ Why, what have you to do with Woman-kind?

_Wel._ A pretty civil Question; has the Lady that sent you a mind to be inform’d.

_Oliv._ Or if she had, you’re not at leisure now, you are taken up, Sir, with another Beauty. Did not you swear, never to speak to Woman-kind, till I had brought her, I told you, sigh’d for you?

_Wel._ Right, and I have kept my word religiously.

_Oliv._ The Devil you have, witness the Joy _Mirtilla_ gave your Soul: Even now you were all Transport, all Extasy of Love; by Heaven, you had forgot you brought me in, and past triumphant in _Mirtilla’s_ Arms, Love in your Heart, and Pleasure in your Eyes.

_Wel._ Ay, sure he mistakes me for the amorous Prince, and thus, perhaps, has mistook me all the Night: I must not undeceive him. [Aside. Whate’er you saw, I have a Heart unwounded, a Heart that never soundly loved, a little scratch it got the other day by a young Beauty in the _Mall_, her Name I know not, but I wish’d to know it, and dogg’d her Coach, I sigh’d a little after her, but since ne’er saw the lovely Vision.

_Oliv._ Sure this was I. [Aside. What Livery had she, Sir?

_Wel._ That I took notice of, ‘twas Green and Gold--Since that, I trifle now and then with Love, to chase away this Image, and that’s all.

_Oliv._ Ha, now I view him well, ‘tis the same handsome Fellow that entertain’d us in the _Mall_ last Thursday.

_Wel._ Come, Sir, ‘tis late, please you to take a Bed with me to Night, where we’ll beget a better Understanding.

_Oliv._ A better than you imagine--’Sdeath, to bed with him, I tremble at the thought--Sir, I do not love a Bedfellow.

_Wel._ Sir, I have lent my Lodgings to a Stranger of Quality, or I wou’d offer you a single Bed--but for once you may dispense with a Bedfellow.

_Oliv._ I will not put you to that trouble, Sir.

_Wel._ Do you design to make me your Friend, and use me with Ceremony? Who waits there?

Enter Footman.

_Oliv._ ‘Slife, what shall I do? I cou’d even consent, to prevent his going to _Mirtilla_--besides, I have no home to go to--

_Wel._ Come, no more Scruples--here--a Night-Gown and a Cap for the Gentleman.

_Oliv._ What shall I do?--I have a little urgent Business, Sir.

_Wel._ If there be absolute necessity, I’ll see you to your Lodgings.

_Oliv._ Oh, by no means, Sir. ‘Sdeath, whither can I go?

_Wel._ Why do you pause? Deal freely with me, Sir, I hope you do not take me for a Lover of my own Sex-- Come, come to bed.

_Oliv._ Go you, Sir, I’ll sit and read by you till Day.

_Wel._ ‘Sdeath, Sir, d’ye think my bed’s infectious?

_Oliv._ I shall betray my Sex in my denial, and that at last I can but do if Necessity compel me to’t. [Aside. Go on, Sir, you have shamed me.

[Exeunt.

Enter _Prince_ and _George_.

_Prince._ And thus thou hast my whole Adventure out, short was the Conquest, but the Joys are lasting.

_Geo._ I am glad on’t, Sir.

_Prince._ Why dost wear a Cloud upon thy brows, when Love’s gay Sunshine dances in my Eyes? If thou’rt her Lover too, I pity thee; her solemn Vows breath’d in the height of Love, disarm me of thy hopes, if Friendship wou’d permit thee.

_Geo._ I do not think it, Sir--

_Prince._ Not think it, not think that she has sworn!

_Geo._ Yes, doubtless, Sir--she’s prodigal of Vows, and I dare swear, by all she’s sworn by, she’ll break ‘em all: She has less Faith than all the fickle Sex, uncertain and more wanton than the Winds, that spare no Births of Nature in their wild course, from the tall Cedar to the Flowers beneath, but ruffle, ravish, and ruin all.

_Prince._ I speak of my _Mirtilla_.

_Geo._ Why, so do I--of yours, of mine, or any Man’s _Mirtilla._

_Prince._ Away, she that with force of Love can sigh and weep--

_Geo._ This very she, has all the while dissembled! Such Love she deals to every gaudy Coxcomb, how will she practice then upon a Hero?

_Prince._ Away, it cannot be.

_Geo._ By all your Friendship to me, Sir, ‘tis truth.

_Prince._ Racks and Tortures!--let her have made of me a mere Example, by whom the cozen’d World might have grown wise: No matter, then I had been pleas’d, though cullyed--Why hast thou ruined my Repose with Truths that carry more Damnation than a Lye? But Oh--thou art my Friend, and I forgive thee.

_Geo._ Sir, I have done, and humbly ask your Pardon. [Offers to go.

_Prince._ Stay, stay, _Lejere_,--if she be false, thou’rt all the World has left me; and I believe--but canst thou prove this to me?

_Geo._ Perhaps I may before the Morning’s dawn.

_Prince._ Ha, prove it here--here, in this very House!

_Geo._ Ay, here, Sir.

_Prince._ What, in my Lodgings will she receive her Spark--by Heaven, were he the darling Son of a Monarch, an Empire’s Hope, and Joy of all the Fair, he shou’d not live to rifle me of Peace.--Come, shew me this destin’d Victim to my Rage.

_Geo._ No, my Revenge is only comical--If you wou’d see how Woman can dissemble, come on, and follow me.

_Prince._ What, disturb her Rest! Didst thou not see her fainting with the Fatigues this Night had given her, and begg’d me I would leave her to Repose?

_Geo._ Yes, and wonder’d at her Art; and when you begg’d to watch by her Bed-side, with what dear Promises she put you off; while every word fell feebly from her Tongue, as if’t had been her last, so very sick she was--till you were gone--Hark--a Door opens--I will obscure the Lights. [Puts away the Lights.

Enter _Olivia._ They retire a little.

_Oliv._ Was ever Maid so near to being undone? Oh Heavens! in bed with the dear Man I love, ready to be betray’d by every Sigh. [_George_ peeps.

_Geo._ ‘Tis _Olivia_.

Enter _Manage_ groping.

_Man._ I left him here--what, by dark? _Endimion_, young, handsome Sir, where are you? [Calls _Olivia_.

_Geo._ Do you hear that, Sir?

_Man._ Oh, are you here?-- [Runs against _Olivia_.

_Oliv._ ‘Slife, ‘tis _Manage_--how shall I escape?-- [Aside.

_Man._ Come, Sir, my Lady _Mirtilla_ has dismiss’d her troublesome Lovers, for your more agreeable Company.

_Geo._ D’ye hear that, Sir?

_Man._ Come softly on, Sir, and follow me.

_Oliv._ I’m all Obedience--

She cannot ravish me, and that’s a Comfort. [Aside, going out.

_Prince._ Oh, _Lejere_--can this be possible? Can there be such a Woman?

_Geo._ Follow him, Sir, and see--

_Prince._ See what!--be witness of her Infamy? Hell! Hell, and all the Fires of Lust possess her! when she’s so old and leud, all Mankind shun her.--I’ll be a Coward in my own dire Revenge, and use no manly Mercy.--But oh, I faint, I faint with Rage and Love, which like two meeting Tides, swell into Storms.--Bear me a minute to my Couch within.

_Geo._ What have I done! now I repent my Rashness.

[Exeunt.

## SCENE II. Draws off, discovers _Mirtilla_ at her Toylet, dress’d.

Enter _Manage_, leading _Olivia_ in as _Endymion_, who falls at _Mirtilla’s_ Feet, whilst she’s there, sings a Song; she takes him up.

_Mir._ Rise,--When Lovers are alone they pardon Ceremony.--I sent for you to end the Night with me; say--how shall we employ it?

_Oliv._ I’ll sigh, and gaze upon your lovely Face.

_Mir._ Nothing but sigh, and gaze; we shall grow dull.

_Oliv._ I’ll tell you Tales of Love, and sing you Songs.

_Mir._ Thy Voice, ‘tis true, can charm a thousand ways; but Lovers time their Joys, these for the Day, those for the lovely Night. And when they would be silently in love, have Musick of soft Sighs and gentler Whispers.

_Oliv._ Oh, Love inspires all this--What shall I do? [Aside.

_Mir._ Nay, think not because I sent for you alone, while Night and Silence favour Lovers Stealths, to take advantage of my yielding Heart.

_Oliv._ I wou’d to Heaven she were in earnest now.

A Noise. Enter _Manage_.

_Man._ Oh, hide your Favourite, Madam--do you hear.

_Mir._ A jealous Lover only, comes in such a Storm--Dear, to my Heart, whose Safety is my Life. Submit to be conceal’d--but where--Oh Heavens, he comes--’Tis for you I fear-- [They search for a place.

_Man._ He comes--

_Mir._ Here, let my Train secure you--Till now I never found the right Use of long Trains and Farthingals. [She kneels, _Man._ puts her Train over _Olivia_.

Enter _Prince_ and _George_, at the Door.

_Geo._ ‘Sdeath, you have made these Pauses and Alarms to give her time to jilt you.

_Prince._ Pray Heaven she do--I’d not be undeceiv’d for all the Sun surveys. [Enters.

_Mir._ My Lord the Prince! now you are kind indeed. [Goes and embraces him. --hah! what means this Unconcern?

_Prince._ I thought I’ad left you sick, extremely sick.

_Mir._ And are you griev’d to find my Health return?

_Prince._ No, wondrous glad of it. You’re mighty gay, _Mirtilla_, much in Glory.

_Mir._ Can he, who lays his Fortune at my Feet, think me too glorious for his Arms and Eyes?

_Geo._ Fifty to one the Gipsy jilts him yet. [Aside.

_Prince._ Pray Heaven she lyes but handsomly-- [Aside. --for mine, _Mirtilla_! Ha--ha--

_Mir._ Am I not yours? You cannot doubt my Vows.

_Geo._ She’ll do’t, and make me love her anew for her rare dexterity at dissembling.

_Prince._ I left you wearied, going to your Bed, but find you at your Toylet gayly dress’d, as if some Conquest you design’d e’er morning.

_Mir._ _Manage_, Sir, from the Fire, secur’d these Trifles, and I was trying several Dresses on; that this slight Beauty that you say has charm’d you, might, when you saw it next, complete the Conquest.

_Geo._ And that thou wilt, if Flattery can do’t.

_Prince._ Now, were she guilty, as I’m sure she’s not, this Softness would undo me, and appease me.

_Mir._ You seem as if you doubted what I say. [This while, _Olivia_ gets off unseen. By all the Powers--

_Prince._ Hold, I scorn to need an Oath to fix my Faith; Oh! thou art all divine, and canst not err. [Embraces her. Curs’d be the Tongue that dares profane thy Virtue, and curs’d the listning Fool that dares believe it.

_Geo._ What a poor, wretched, baffled thing is Man, by feebler Woman aw’d and made a Coxcomb!

_Mir._ Durst any one traduce my Virtue, Sir, and is it possible that you could hear it?--Then perish all the Beauties you have flatter’d. [Tears her Head-things.

_Prince._ Come to my Arms, thou Charmer of my Soul! and if one spark of Jealousy remain, one of those precious Tears shall quench the Crime--Oh, come, and let me lead thee to thy Bed, and breathe new Vows into thy panting Bosom. [Leads her off, she looks back on _George_ and smiles.

_Geo._ Now all the Plagues of injur’d Lovers wreck thee; ‘Sdeath, where has she hid _Olivia_? or how am I deceiv’d?--’Tis Day, and with it new Invention rise to damn this Woman to the sin of Shame; break all the Chains that hold the princely Youth, and sink her with her fancy’d Power and Vanity. [Exit.

## SCENE III. Changes to Lady _Youthly’s_.

Enter Sir _Rowland_ half dress’d, Lady _Blunder_ in an Undress, Lady _Youthly_ in her morning-dress, _Teresia_ and Mr. _Twang_.

Sir _Row._ Morrow, my Lady _Youthly_, and thank you for my Night’s Lodging--You are as early up as if it had been your Wedding-day.

L. _Youth._ Truly, Sir _Rowland_, that I intend.

Sir _Row._ But where’s the Bride-groom, Madam?

Enter _Roger_.

How now, _Roger_, what, no news yet of _George_?

_Rog._ Alas! none, Sir, none, till the Rubbish be removed.

Sir _Row._ Rubbish--What--what, is _George_ become the Rubbish of the World then? [Weeps.

_Twang._ Why, Man is but Dust, as a Man may say, Sir.

L. _Blun._ But are you sure, _Roger_, my Jewel, my Sir _Moggy_ escap’d?

_Rog._ The Watch drew him out of the Cellar-window, Madam.

L. _Youth._ How, Mr. _Twang_, the young Gentleman burnt--Oh-- [Falls in a Chair.

_Ter._ Alas! my Grandmother faints with your ill News.--Good Sir _Rowland_, comfort her, and dry your Eyes.

Sir _Row._ Burnt, Madam! No, no, only the House fell on him, or so-- [Feigns Chearfulness, and speaks to Lady _Youthly_.

L. _Youth._ How! the House fell on him--Oh!

Sir _Row._ Ah, Madam, that’s all; why, the young Rogue has a Back like an Elephant--’twill bear a Castle, Madam.

L. _Youth._ Alas, good Man: What a Mercy ‘tis, Mr. _Twang_, to have a Back like an Elephant!

L. _Blun._ Of what wonderful Use it is upon occasion--

Sir _Row._ Ay--but--but I shall never see him more, Back nor Breast. [Weeps.

_Twang._ Good Sir, discomfort not my Lady--Consider Man’s a Flower--

Sir _Row._ Ay, but _George_ was such a Flower! He was, Mr. _Twang_, he was the very Pink of Prentices. Ah! what a rare rampant Lord Mayor he wou’d have made! And what a swinging Sheriff-- [Cries.

_Ter._ What, cry, so near your Wedding-day, Sir Rowland?

Sir _Row._ Well, if he be gone--Peace be with him: and, ‘Ifaks, Sweet-heart, we’ll marry, and beget new Sons and Daughters--but--but I shall ne’er beget another _George_. [Cries.

_Ter._ This is but a Scurvy Tune for your hymenical Song, Sir.

Sir _Row._ Alas! Mrs. _Teresia_, my Instrument is untun’d, and good for nothing now but to be hung upon the Willows.

_Cry within._ Murder, Murder, Murder!

Enter Footman. Sir _Merlin_ with his Sword drawn, and Sir _Morgan_.

Sir _Row._ What’s here, my Rogue?

_Twang._ What’s the matter, Gentlemen, that ye enter the House in this hostile manner?

Sir _Morg._ What, Mr. _Twang_, de see!

Sir _Mer._ Ay, ay--stand by Divinity--and know, that we, the Pillars of the Nation, are come, de see--to ravish.

L. _Blun._ Oh, my dear Sir Morgan. [Embraces him.

Sir _Morg._ I do not intend to ravish, like a _Jew_, in my own Tribe--

L. _Youth._ What say they, Mr. _Twang_, ravish? Oh, save my Honour--lead me to my Bed-Chamber, where, if they dare venture to come, they come upon their Peril. [_Twang_ leads her out. Sir _Morgan_ goes to _Ter._

Sir _Mer._ Old Fellow, do’st hear? Sir _Pandarus_ of _Troy_, deliver me my _Cressida_, de see, peacefully, or I am resolved to bear her off _Vi & Armis_.

L. _Blun._ Sweet Nephew, retire, we are just upon making your Peace.

Sir _Mer._ Ha--Old Queen _Gwiniver_, without her Ruff on?

[Sir _Merlin_ takes hold of her to bear her off; she cries out: Sir _Rowland_ draws upon him. As they are going to fight, _George_ enters.

_Geo._ Is there a Man in Nature’s Race so vile, dares lift a guilty Hand against his Father?

Sir _Mer._ Father me no Fathers; I fight for _Teresia_, my lawfully begotten Spouse.

_Geo._ That I once called you Brother, saves your Life; therefore resign your Sword here at his reverend Feet.

Sir _Mer._ Sirrah, you lye, Sirrah--

_Geo._ There, drag away this Brute. [Disarms him. To the Footman.

Sir _Mer._ Rogues, Dogs, bring Mrs. _Teresia_ along with you.

_Ter._ Sure this is my fine Fellow--and yet the very same that’s to be married to my Grandmother; nor can that City Habit hide the Gentleman. [_George_ speaks this while with his Father, who embraces him.

Sir _Morg._ Burnt, say you, Mrs. _Teresia_, de see--my Lady _Mirtilla_ burnt! Nay, then, ‘tis time to go to sleep, get sober, and marry again. [Goes out.

Sir _Row._ Enough, my Boy, enough; thou deserv’st my whole Estate, and thou shalt have it, Boy--This day thou shalt marry the Widow, and I her Grand-child. I’ll to my Lawyers, and settle all upon thee instantly. [Goes out.

_Geo._ How, marry to day--Old Gentleman, you must be cozen’d; and, Faith, that goes against my Conscience--Ha, the Fair, the Young _Teresia_ there--When a man’s bent upon Wickedness, the Devil never wants an Opportunity to present him with, that she shou’d be in my way now--Fair Creature, are you resolv’d to be my Mother-in-law?

_Ter._ As sure as you to be my Grandfather, Sir--And see--the News of your being come, has rais’d my Grandmother.

Enter _Lettice_, my Lady’s maid, and Lady _Youthly_.

_Geo._ A Pox upon her, her Ghost had been less frightful.

_Ter._ I cou’d have spar’d her now too; but see she advances as swift as Time.

_Geo._ And as old: What shall I do? I dye to speak with you--

L. _Youth._ Where--where’s this Young Welcome Gentleman--Oh, are you here, Sir-- [She sees him not, but runs upon him. _Lettice_, take _Teresia_, and get you to your Chamber, she has her Trinkets to get ready against the Wedding anon, for we’ll make but one work of both.

_Ter._ Ay, ‘twill save Charges, Madam--

L. _Youth._ Ay, ay, get you gone, Lovers sometimes wou’d be private.

_Geo._ Heark ye--leave me not to her mercy, by Love, if you do, I’ll follow you to your Chamber.

_Ter._ Leave you! No, hang me if I do, till I have told you a piece of my mind, for I find there’s no dallying.

L. _Youth._ Well, Sir, I have finish’d the Great Work.

_Geo._ I wish you had--_Teresia_, once you made me hope you did not hate me.

L. _Youth._ What says he, _Teresia_?

_Ter._ He says, he hopes you do not hate him, Madam.

L. _Youth._ No, by my Troth, Sir; I feel something for you, I have not felt before.

_Geo._ Not these Threescore Years, I dare swear--You have too much Wit, _Teresia_, to have been only pleas’d with the Embroider’d Coat, and Gawdy Plume, when still the man’s the same.

L. _Youth._ What says he, Embroider’d Coat and Plume?

_Ter._ He hopes your Ladyship likes him ne’er the worse, for being without those Fopperies.

L. _Youth._ Marry do I not, I love not this over-finery in a Husband; those Fellows that dress, think so well of themselves, they never mind their Wives.

_Geo._ Are you so dull, _Teresia_, not to see, this Habit was put on, only to get an Opportunity to tell you my Passion?

L. _Youth._ Tell me of his Passion! was it so, alas, good Young Man--Well, well, I’ll defer your Joys no longer, this Night shall make you happy, Mr. _Twang_ shall join us, Sir.

_Geo._ A blessed hearing--You see, Charming Maid, how very short a space there is between this and the hast’ning hour; stand not on Virgin Niceties, but answer me, our time admits of no Consideration.

_Ter._ I have not been this Four and Twenty hours a Lover, to need Considering; as soon as you had my Heart, you had my Consent, and that was the first moment I saw you at the _Basset-Table_.

_Geo._ Ha! at the Basset-Table!

_Ter._ Yes, I was the frank Youth that lent you Money--but no more--your Time and Place.

L. _Youth._ What are you prating to him there?

_Ter._ He doubts your Love, Madam, and I’m confirming it.

L. _Youth._ Alas, good Gentleman!--anon I’ll convince him--for in the Ev’ning, Sir, the Priest shall make us one.

_Geo._ Ah, Madam, I cou’d wish ‘twere not so long defer’d, for sure I love you like a sighing Swain, and as a Proof of it, I have here prepar’d an Emblem of my Love in a Dance of Country Lovers, when Passion is sincere.

L. _Youth._ Good-lack-a-day, indeed you’re so obliging: But pray let us have the Dance. [Dance.

L. _Youth._ Very pretty indeed. Come, good Gentleman, don’t droop, don’t droop; come, hold up your Head--you may be allow’d one kiss beforehand.

_Geo._ [Kisses her.] Oh, what a pestilential Blast was there! [Aside.

L. _Youth._ Come, come, _Teresia_, come with me.

_Geo._ [to _Teresia_.] I’ll send a Chair to your Back-gate anon, that shall wait you on the Field-side, and bring you whither I shall appoint. Get ready instantly.

_Ter._ And if I fail, may I be eternally damn’d to the Embraces of old Age.

[Exeunt all but _George_.

_Geo._ _Mirtilla_, thus thy Scorn I will out-brave, And let my Father the kind Cheat forgive; _If I with dexterous charitable care_ _Ease him of Burdens he wants strength to bear._ [Exit.

## ACT V.

## SCENE I. _Welborn’s_ Chamber.

Enter _Welborn_ dressing himself; to him a Footman with a Letter.

_Wel._ Prithee what became of the Spark that lay with me last Night?

_Foot._ I know not, Sir, he ‘rose before day--What Letter’s this, Sir? It lay upon your Toylet. [Gives _Welborn_ a Letter.

_Wel._ _To the dear Man whose Name I would be glad to know_-- [Reads. Hum--a Woman’s Hand-- [Opens it.

_The Lady you saw last _Thursday_ in the _Mall_, you had in Bed with you last Night. _Adieu_._

Oh! dull Divinity of Love! that by no Instinct, no sympathizing Pains or Pleasure, could instruct my Sense, how near I was to Happiness!

Enter _George_, fine.

--_Lejere_, behold me here the most unlucky Fellow breathing. Thou know’st I told thee how I was in love with a young Woman in the _Mall_: And this very Night I had this very Woman in my Arms.

_Geo._ Is this your ill Luck, Sir?

_Wel._ ‘Sdeath, all the while I took her for a Man: But finding me asleep, she softly rose; and, by a Light yet burning in my Chamber, she writ this Billet, and left it on my Table. [Gives it _George_, he reads it.

_Geo._ By all that’s good, _Olivia_!--And were you very honest, Sir?

_Wel._ To my eternal Shame, as chaste as Ice.

_Geo._ What will you say now, _Charles_, if I bring this Woman to you again?

_Wel._ Canst thou? Oh, let me kiss thy Lips away.

_Geo._ For all her Frolick, _Charles_, she’s very honest, a Fortune, and of Quality--and were’t not for _Olivia_, thou shouldst marry her.

_Wel._ _Olivia_ I ne’er saw, and now ‘twill be too late.

_Geo._ Nay then, Sir, I must fight in her Defence.

_Wel._ You fight in her defence! Why, dost thou love her?--By all that’s good, I will resign her to thee.

_Geo._ You shall not, Sir; and know she is my Sister.

_Wel._ _Olivia_ thy Sister!--

_Geo._ Ask no more Questions, but defend your self, if you refuse to marry her; for her Honour’s mine.

_Wel._ Were she an Angel, I must love this Woman.

_Geo._ Then thou shall have her--Haste, and get a Licence--no more--trust my Friendship--Go. [Exit _Welborn_.

Enter _Olivia_.

_Olivia_, where did you lie last Night?--Nay do not blush, for you may yet be virtuous.

_Oliv._ Virtuous! Not the young Roses in the bud secur’d, nor breaking Morn ungaz’d at by the Sun, nor falling Snow has more of Purity.

_Geo._ I do believe you; but your dangerous Frolicks will make the World talk shamefully.

_Oliv._ Let him talk on, I will not humour Fools.

_Geo._ No more--here’s _Manage_--Contrive an Assignation with _Mirtilla_; but do not hide again where none may find you. This done, I’ll tell you more, and make you happy. How now, _Manage_, is the Prince stirring?

_Man._ He’s in his Dressing-Room, Sir.--This from my Lady, Sir. [Slides the Letter into _Olivia’s_ Hand as she passes out.

_Geo._ What have you there, Olivia? [Takes the Billet.

_Oliv._ An Assignation from your perjur’d Mistress, Sir.

_Geo._ ‘Tis well--you must obey the Summons; and wind her up to all the height of Love; then let her loose to Shame. I’ll bring her Lover in the height of Dalliance, who, when he sees her Perfidy, will hate her.

_Oliv._ And then the lovely Man stands fair for me. [Aside.

_Geo._ Go write an Answer back--and wait her hour.

[Exeunt severally.

## SCENE II. _The Dressing-Room. Discovers the _Prince_ at his Toylet,

dressing. Musick and a Song._

Enter _George_, waits till the Song is ended. The _Prince_ sees him, comes to him with Joy, and falls about his Neck.

SONG, by Mr. _Gildon_.