Chapter III: Part 3

_Aman._ Wou'd I were any thing but what I am! A base ungrateful Man, after what I have done for him, to use me thus!

_Ber._ What, he has been ogling now, I'll warrant you?

_Aman._ Yes, he has been ogling.

_Ber._ And so you are jealous? Is that all?

_Aman._ That all! Is jealousy then nothing?

_Ber._ It shou'd be nothing, if I were in your Case.

_Aman._ Why, what wou'd you do?

_Ber._ I'd cure myself.

_Aman._ How?

_Ber._ Let Blood in the fond Vein: Care as little for my Husband as he did for me.

_Aman._ That would not stop his Course.

_Ber._ Nor nothing else, when the Wind's in the warm Corner. Look you, _Amanda_, you may build Castles in the Air, and fume, and fret, and grow thin and lean, and pale and ugly, if you please. But I tell you, no Man worth having is true to his Wife, or can be true to his Wife, or ever was, or ever will be so.

_Aman._ Do you then really think he's false to me? for I did but suspect him.

_Ber._ Think so? I know he's so.

_Aman._ Is it possible? Pray tell me what you know.

_Ber._ Don't press me then to name Names; for that I have sworn I won't do.

_Aman._ Well, I won't; but let me know all you can without Perjury.

_Ber._ I'll let you know enough to prevent any wise Woman's dying of the Pip; and I hope you'll pluck up your Spirits, and shew, upon occasion, you can be as good a Wife as the best of 'em.

_Aman._ Well, what a Woman, can do I'll endeavour.

_Ber._ O, a Woman can do a great deal, if once she sets her mind to it. Therefore pray don't stand trifling any longer, and teasing yourself with this and that, and your Love and your Virtue, and I know not what. But resolve to hold up your Head, get a tiptoe, and look over them all; for to my certain knowledge your husband is a pickering elsewhere.

_Aman._ You are sure on't?

_Ber._ Positively, he fell in love at the Play.

_Aman._ Right, the very same; do you know the ugly thing?

_Ber._ Yes, I know her well enough; but she's no such ugly thing, neither.

_Aman._ Is she very handsome?

_Ber._ Truly I think so.

_Aman._ Hey-ho!

_Ber._ What do you sigh for now?

_Aman._ Oh my Heart!

_Ber._ [_Aside._] Only the Pangs of Nature! she's in Labour of her Love; Heaven send her a quick Delivery! I'm sure she has a good Midwife.

_Aman._ I'm very ill, I must go to my Chamber; Dear _Berinthia_, don't leave me a Moment.

_Ber._ No, don't fear. [_Aside._] I'll see you safe brought-to-bed, I'll warrant you.

[_Exeunt, ~Amanda~ leaning upon ~Berinthia~._

+SCENE+, _A Country-House_.

_Enter ~Young~ Fashion and ~Lory~._

_Young Fash._ So, here's our Inheritance, _Lory_, if we can but get into Possession. But, methinks, the Seat of our Family looks like _Noah_'s Ark, as if the chief part on't were design'd for the Fowls of the Air, and the Beasts of the Field.

_Lo._ Pray, Sir, don't let your Head run upon the Orders of Building here; get but the Heiress, let the Devil take the House.

_Young Fash._ Get but the House, let the Devil take the Heiress, I say; at least if she be as old _Coupler_ describes her. But come, we have no time to squander. Knock at the Door. [Lory _knocks two or three times._] What the Devil, have they got no Ears in this House? Knock harder.

_Lo._ I'gad, Sir, this will prove some inchanted Castle; we shall have the Giant come out by and by with his Club, and beat our Brains out.

[_Knocks again._

_Young Fash._ Hush! they come.

_From within._] Who is there?

_Lo._ Open the Door and see: Is that your Country Breeding?

_Within._ Ay, but two Words to a Bargain: _Tummus_, is the Blunderbuss prim'd?

_Young Fash._ Oons, give 'em good Words, _Lory_; we shall be shot here a Fortune-catching.

_Lo._ I'gad, Sir, I think y'are in the right on't. Ho, Mr. What d'ye-call-um.--[_Servant appears at the Window with a Blunderbuss._] Weal naw, what's yar Business?

_Young Fash._ Nothing, Sir, but to wait upon Sir _Tunbelly_, with your leave.

_Ser._ To weat upon Sir _Tunbelly_? Why, you'll find that's just as Sir _Tunbelly_ pleases.

_Young Fash._ But will you do me the Favour, Sir, to know whether Sir _Tunbelly_ pleases or not?

_Ser._ Why, look you, do you see, with good Words, much may be done. _Ralph_, go thy weas, and ask Sir _Tunbelly_ if he pleases to be waited upon. And, do'st hear? call to Nurse, that she may lock up Miss _Hoyden_ before the Gates open.

_Young Fash._ D'ye hear that, _Lory_?

_Lo._ Ay, Sir, I'm afraid we shall find a difficult Jobb on't. Pray Heaven that old Rogue _Coupler_ han't sent us to fetch Milk out of the Gunroom!

_Young Fash._ I'll warrant thee all will go well: See; the Door opens.

_Enter Sir ~Tunbelly~, with his Servants arm'd with
Guns, Clubs, Pitchforks, Scythes, ~&c.~_

_Lo._ [_Running behind his Master._] O Lord, O Lord, O Lord, we are both dead Men!

_Young Fash._ Take heed, Fool, thy Fear will ruin us.

_Lo._ My Fear, Sir--'Sdeath, Sir, I fear nothing. [_Aside._] Wou'd I were well up to the Chin in a Horse-Pond!

Sir _Tun._ Who is it here has any Business with me?

_Young Fash._ Sir, 'tis I, if your Name be Sir _Tunbelly Clumsey_.

Sir _Tun._ Sir, my Name is Sir _Tunbelly Clumsey_, whether you have any Business with me or not. So you see I am not asham'd of my Name--nor my Face--neither.

_Young Fash._ Sir, you have no cause, that I know of.

Sir _Tun._ Sir, if you have no cause neither, I desire to know who you are; for till I know your Name, I shall not ask you to come into my House; and when I know your Name--'tis six to four I don't ask you neither.

_Young Fash._ [_Giving him a Letter._] Sir, I hope you'll find this Letter an Authentick Passport.

Sir _Tun._ God's my life, I ask your Lordship's Pardon ten thousand times. [_To his Servant._] Here, run in a-doors quickly: Get a Scotch-Coal Fire in the great Parlour; set all the Turkey-work-Chairs in their places; get the great Brass Candlesticks out; and be sure stick the Sockets full of Laurel; run. [_Turning to ~Young Fash~._] My Lord, I ask your Lordship's pardon. [_To other Servants._] And do you hear, run away to Nurse, bid her let Miss _Hoyden_ loose again, and if it was not shifting Day, let her put on a clean Tucker--quick!

[_Exeunt Servants confusedly._

_To_ Young Fash.] I hope your Honour will excuse the disorder of my Family; we are not us'd to receive Men of your Lordship's great Quality every day; pray where are your Coaches and Servants, my Lord?

_Young Fash._ Sir, that I might give you and your fair Daughter a proof how impatient I am to be nearer akin to you, I left my Equipage to follow me, and came away Post with only one servant.

Sir _Tun._ Your Lordship does me too much Honour. It was exposing your Person to too much Fatigue and Danger, I protest it was; but my Daughter shall endeavour to make you what amends she can; and tho' I say it, that shou'd not say it--_Hoyden_ has Charms.

_Young Fash._ Sir, I am not a Stranger to them, tho' I am to her. Common Fame has done her Justice.

Sir _Tun._ My Lord, I am common Fame's very grateful humble Servant. My Lord----my Girl's young: _Hoyden_ is young, my Lord; but this I must say for her, what she wants in Art, she has by Nature; what she wants in Experience, she has in Breeding; and what's wanting in her Age, is made good in her Constitution. So pray, my Lord, walk in; pray, my Lord, walk in.

_Young Fash._ Sir, I wait upon you.

[_Exeunt._

_Miss ~Hoyden~ sola._

Sure never no body was us'd as I am. I know well enough what other Girls do, for all they think to make a Fool of me: It's well I have a Husband a coming, or I'cod, I'd marry the Baker, I wou'd so. No body can knock at the Gate, but presently I must be lockt up; and here's the young Greyhound Bitch can run loose about the House all the day long, she can; 'tis very well.

_Nurse ~without~, opening the Door._

Miss _Hoyden_! Miss, Miss, Miss! Miss _Hoyden_!

_Enter ~Nurse~._

_Miss._ Well, what do you make such a Noise for, ha! What do you din a body's Ears for? Can't one be at quiet for you?

_Nurse._ What do I din your Ears for? Here's one come will din your Ears for you.

_Miss._ What care I who's come? I care not a Fig who comes, nor who goes, as long as I shall be lockt up like the Ale-Cellar.

_Nurse._ That, Miss, is for fear you shou'd be drank before you are ripe.

_Miss._ O, don't you trouble your Head about that; I'm as ripe as you, tho' not so mellow.

_Nurse._ Very well; now I have a good mind to lock you up again, and not let you see my Lord to-night.

_Miss._ My Lord! Why, is my Husband come?

_Nurse._ Yes, marry is he, and a goodly Person too.

_Miss._ [_Hugging Nurse._] O my dear _Nurse_, forgive, me this once, and I'll never misuse you again; no, if I do, you shall give me three thumps on the Back, and a great pinch by the Cheek.

_Nurse._ Ah the poor Thing, see how it melts; it's as full of Good-Nature as an Egg's full of Meat.

_Miss._ But, my dear Nurse, don't lie now; is he come, by your troth?

_Nurse._ Yes, by my truly, is he.

_Miss._ O Lord! I'll go and put on my lac'd Smock, tho' I am whipt till the Blood run down my Heels for't.

[_Exit running._

_Nurse._ Eh----the Lord succour thee, how thou art delighted!

[_Exit after her._

_Enter Sir ~Tunbelly~ and ~Young Fashion~. A Servant
with Wine._

Sir _Tun._ My Lord, I'm proud of the Honour to see your Lordship within my Doors: and I humbly crave leave to bid you welcome in a Cup of Sack Wine.

_Young Fash._ Sir, to your Daughter's Health.

[_Drinks._

Sir _Tun._ Ah poor Girl, she'll be fear'd out of her Wits on her Wedding Night; for, honestly speaking, she does not know a Man from a Woman, but by his Beard, and his Breeches.

_Young Fash._ Sir, I don't doubt she has had a virtuous Education, which, with the rest of her Merit, makes me long to see her mine. I wish you wou'd dispense with the Canonical Hour, and let it be this very Night.

Sir _Tun._ O not so soon, neither; that's shooting my Girl before you bid her stand. No, give her fair warning, we'll sign and seal to-night if you please; and this Day seven-night--let the Jade look to her Quarters.

_Young Fash._ This Day seven-night----Why, what do you take me for a Ghost, Sir? 'Slife, Sir, I'm made of Flesh and Blood, and Bones and Sinews, and can no more live a Week without your Daughter--than I can live a Month with her.

[_Aside._

Sir _Tun._ Oh, I'll warrant you, my Hero; young Men are hot, I know, but they don't boil over at that rate, neither; besides, my Wench's Wedding Gown is not come home yet.

_Young Fash._ O, no matter, Sir; I'll take her in her Shift. [_Aside._] A Pox of this old Fellow, he'll delay the Business till my damn'd Star finds me out, and discovers me. [_To Sir ~Tun.~_] Pray, Sir, let it be done without Ceremony; 'twill save Money.

Sir _Tun._ Money----Save Money when _Hoyden_'s to be marry'd? Udswoons, I'll give my Wench a Wedding-Dinner, tho' I go to Grass with the King of _Assyria_ for't; and such a Dinner it shall be, as is not to be cook'd in the poaching of an Egg. Therefore, my Noble Lord, have a little Patience, we'll go and look over our Deeds and Settlements immediately; and as for your Bride, tho' you may be sharp-set before she's quite ready, I'll engage for my Girl, she stays your Stomach at last.

[_Exeunt._

+ACT+ IV. +SCENE+ I.

_Enter Miss ~Hoyden~ and ~Nurse~._

_Nurse._ Well, Miss, how do you like your Husband that is to be?

_Miss._ O Lord, Nurse, I'm so overjoy'd, I can scarce contain myself.

_Nurse._ O, but you must have a care of being too fond; for Men now a-days hate a Woman that loves 'em.

_Miss._ Love him! Why do you think I love him, Nurse? I'cod, I would not care if he were hang'd, so I were but once married to him----No----that which pleases me, is to think what Work I'll make when I get to _London_; for when I am a Wife and a Lady both, Nurse, I'cod, I'll flant it with the best of 'em.

_Nurse._ Look, look, if his Honour be not a coming to you; now if I were sure you wou'd behave yourself handsomely, and not disgrace me that have brought you up, I'd leave you alone together.

_Miss._ That's my best Nurse, do as you wou'd be done by; trust us together this once; and if I don't shew my Breeding from the Head to the Foot of me, may I be twice married, and die a Maid!

_Nurse._ Well, this once I'll venture you; but if you disparage me----

_Miss._ Never fear, I'll shew him my Parts, I'll warrant him.

[_Exit ~Nurse~._

_Sola._

These old Women are so wise when they get a poor Girl into their Clutches; but ere it be long, I shall know what's what, as well as the best of 'em.

_Enter ~Young Fashion~._

_Young Fash._ Your Servant, Madam, I'm glad to find you alone; for I have something of Importance to speak to you about.

_Miss._ Sir, (my Lord, I meant) you may speak to me about what you please, I shall give you a civil Answer.

_Young Fash._ You give me so obliging a one, it encourages me to tell you in few Words, what I think both for your Interest and mine. Your Father, I suppose you know, has resolv'd to make me happy in being your Husband, and I hope I may depend upon your Consent, to perform what he desires.

_Miss._ Sir, I never disobey my Father in any thing but eating of green Gooseberries.

_Young Fash._ So good a Daughter must needs be an admirable Wife; I am therefore impatient till you are mine, and hope you will so far consider the Violence of my Love, that you won't have the Cruelty to defer my Happiness so long as your Father designs it.

_Miss._ Pray, my Lord, how long is it?

_Young Fash._ Madam, a thousand Year----a whole Week.

_Miss._ A Week!----why, I shall be an old Woman by that time.

_Young Fash._ And I an old Man, which you'll find a greater Misfortune than t'other.

_Miss._ Why I thought it was to be to-morrow Morning, as soon as I was up; I'm sure Nurse told me so.

_Young Fash._ And it shall be to-morrow Morning still, if you'll consent.

_Miss._ If I'll consent! Why I thought I was to obey you as my Husband.

_Young Fash._ That's when we are married; till then, I am to obey you.

_Miss._ Why then if we are to take it by turns, it's the same thing: I'll obey you now, and when we are married, you shall obey me.

_Young Fash._ With all my heart; but I doubt we must get Nurse on our side, or we shall hardly prevail with the Chaplain.

_Miss._ No more we shan't indeed, for he loves her better than he loves his Pulpit, and wou'd always be a preaching to her, by his good Will.

_Young Fash._ Why then, my dear little Bedfellow, if you'll call her hither, we'll try to persuade her presently.

_Miss._ O Lord, I can tell you a way how to persuade her to any thing.

_Young Fash._ How's that?

_Miss._ Why tell her she's a wholesome, comely Woman----and give her Half a Crown.

_Young Fash._ Nay, if that will do, she shall have half a score of 'em.

_Miss._ O Gemini, for half that she'd marry you herself: I'll run and call her.

[_Exit ~Miss~._

_~Young Fashion~ solus._

So, Matters go swimmingly; this is a rare Girl, i'faith; I shall have a fine time of it with her at _London_. I'm much mistaken if she don't prove a _March_ Hare all the Year round. What a scampering Chace will she make on't, when me finds the whole Kennel of Beaux at her Tail! Hey to the _Park_ and the Play, and the Church, and the Devil; she'll shew them sport, I'll warrant 'em. But no matter, she brings an Estate will afford me a separate Maintenance.

_Enter ~Miss~ and ~Nurse~._

_Young Fash._ How do you do, good Mistress Nurse? I desir'd your young Lady would give me leave to see you, that I might thank you for your extraordinary Care and Conduct in her Education; pray accept of this small Acknowledgement for it at present, and depend upon my farther Kindness, when I shall be that happy thing her Husband.

_Nurse._ [_Aside._] Gold by mackins! Your Honour's Goodness is too great: alas! all I can boast of is, I gave her poor good Milk, and so your Honour wou'd have said, an you had seen how the poor thing suck't it----Eh, God's blessing on the sweet Face on't! how it us'd to hang at this poor Teat, and suck and squeeze, and kick and sprawl it wou'd, till the Belly on't was so full, it wou'd drop off like a Leech.

[_~Miss~ to ~Nurse~, taking her angrily aside._

Pray one word with you; pr'ythee, Nurse, don't stand ripping up old Stories, to make one asham'd before one's Love: do you think such a fine proper Gentleman as he is, cares for a fiddlecome Tale of a draggle-tail'd Girl;, if you have a mind to make him have a good Opinion of a Woman, don't tell him what one did then, tell him what one can do now. [_To_ Young Fash.] I hope your Honour will excuse my Mismanners to whisper before you, it was only to give some orders about the Family.

_Young Fash._ O every thing, Madam, is to give way to Business; besides, good Housewifery is a very commendable Quality in a young Lady.

_Miss._ Pray, Sir, are the young Ladies good Housewives at London Town? Do they darn their own Linen?

_Young Fash._ O no, they study how to spend Money, not to save it.

_Miss._ I'cod, I don't know but that may be better Sport than t'other, ha, Nurse!

_Young Fash._ Well, you shall have your Choice when you come there.

_Miss._ Shall I----then by my troth I'll get there as fast as I can.

_To Nurse._] His Honour desires you'll be so kind, as to let us be marry'd to-morrow.

_Nurse._ To-morrow, my dear Madam?

_Young Fash._ Yes, to-morrow, sweet Nurse, privately; young Folks, you know, are impatient, and Sir _Tunbelly_ wou'd make us stay a Week for a Wedding-Dinner. Now all things being sign'd and seal'd, and agreed, I fancy there cou'd be no great harm in practising a Scene or two of Matrimony in private, if it were only to give us the better Assurance when we come to play it in publick.

_Nurse._ Nay, I must confess stolen Pleasures are sweet; but if you shou'd be married now, what will you do when Sir _Tunbelly_ calls for you to be wedded?

_Miss._ Why then we will be married again.

_Nurse._ What, twice, my Child?

_Miss._ I'cod, I don't care how often I'm married, not I.

_Young Fash._ Pray, Nurse, don't you be against your young Lady's good; for by this means she'll have the pleasure of two Wedding-Days.

_Miss to Nurse softly._] And of two Wedding-Nights too, Nurse.

_Nurse._ Well, I'm such a tender-hearted Fool, I find I can refuse you nothing; so you shall e'en follow your own Inventions.

_Miss._ Shall I? [_Aside._] O Lord, I could leap over the Moon.

_Young Fash._ Dear Nurse, this Goodness of yours shan't go unrewarded; but now you must employ your Power with Mr. _Bull_ the Chaplain, that he may do his friendly Office too, and then we shall be all happy; do you think you can prevail with him?

_Nurse._ Prevail with him----or he shall never prevail with me, I can tell him that.

_Miss._ My Lord, she has had him upon the hip this seven Year.

_Young Fash._ I'm glad to hear it; however, to strengthen your Interest with him, you may let him know I have several fat Livings in my Gift, and that the first that falls shall be in your Disposal.

_Nurse._ Nay, then I'll make him marry more Folks, than one, I'll promise him.

_Miss._ Faith, do, Nurse, make him marry you too; I'm sure he'll do't for a fat Living; for he loves Eating more than he loves his _Bible_; and I have often heard, him say, a fat Living was the best Meat in the World.

_Nurse._ Ay, and I'll make him commend the Sauce too, or I'll bring his Gown to a Cassock, I will so.

_Young Fash._ Well, Nurse, whilst you go and settle Matters with him, your Lady and I will go and take a walk in the Garden.

_Nurse._ I'll do your Honour's Business in the catching up of a Garter.

[_Exit ~Nurse~._

_Young Fash._ [_Giving her his Hand._] Come, Madam, dare you venture yourself alone with me?

_Miss._ O dear, yes, Sir; I don't think you'll do any thing to me I need be afraid on.

_Enter ~Amanda~ and ~Berinthia~._

A SONG.

I.

_I Smile at Love, and all its Arts,
The Charming_ Cynthia _cry'd;
Take heed, for Love has piercing Darts,
A wounded Swain reply'd.
Once free and blest as you are now,
I trifled with his Charms;
I pointed at his little Bow,
And sported with his Arms;
Till urg'd too far, Revenge he cries,
A fated Shaft he drew;
It took its passage thro your Eyes,
And to my Heart it flew._

II.

_To tear it thence I try'd in vain;
To strive I quickly found
Was only to increase the Pain,
And to enlarge the Wound.
Ah! much too well, I fear, you know
What pain I'm to endure,
Since what your Eyes alone cou'd do,
Your Heart alone can cure.
And That (grant Heaven I may mistake)
I doubt is doom'd to bear
A Burden for another's sake,
Who ill rewards its Care._

_Aman._ Well, now, _Berinthia_, I'm at leisure to hear what 'twas you had to say to me.

_Ber._ What I had to say, was only to echo the Sighs and Groans of a dying Lover.

_Aman._ Phu, will you never learn to talk in earnest of any thing?

_Ber._ Why this shall be in earnest, if you please; for my part, I only tell you Matter of Fact--you may take it which way you like best; but if you'll follow the Women of the Town, you'll take it both ways; for when a Man offers himself to one of them, first she takes him in jest, and then she takes him in earnest.

_Aman._ I'm sure there's so much jest and earnest in what you say to me, I scarce know how to take it; but I think you have bewitched me, for I don't find it possible to be angry with you, say what you will.

_Ber._ I'm very glad to hear it, for I have no mind to quarrel with you, for some Reasons that I'll not brag of; but quarrel or not, smile or frown, I must tell you what I have suffer'd upon your account.

_Aman._ Upon my account!

_Ber._ Yes, upon yours; I have been forc'd to sit still and hear you commended for two Hours together, without one Compliment to myself; now don't you think a Woman has a blessed time of that?

_Aman._ Alas! I shou'd have been unconcern'd at it; I never knew where the Pleasure lay of being prais'd by the Men: but pray who was this that commended me so?

_Ber._ One you have a mortal Aversion to--Mr. _Worthy_: he us'd you like a Text, he took you all to pieces, but spoke so learnedly upon every Point, one might see the Spirit of the Church was in him: if you are a Woman, you'd have been in an Extasy to have heard how feelingly he handled your Hair, your Eyes, your Nose, your Mouth, your Teeth, your Tongue, your Chin, your Neck, and so forth. Thus he preach'd for an Hour; but when he came to use an Application, he observ'd that all these, without a Gallant, were nothing--Now consider of what has been said, and Heaven give you Grace to put it in practice!

_Aman._ Alas! _Berinthia_, did I incline to a Gallant, (which you know I do not) do you think a Man so nice as he, cou'd have the least concern for such a plain unpolish'd thing as I am? It is impossible!

_Ber._ Now have you a great mind to put me upon commending you.

_Aman._ Indeed that was not my Design.

_Ber._ Nay, if it were, it's all one, for I won't do't, I'll leave that to your Looking-glass. But to shew you I have some Good-nature left, I'll commend him, and may be that may do as well.

_Aman._ You have a great mind to persuade me I am in love with him.

_Ber._ I have a great mind to persuade you, you don't know what you are in love with.

_Aman._ I am sure I am not in love with him, nor never shall be; so let that pass: but you were saying something you wou'd commend him for.

_Ber._ O, you'd be glad to hear a good Character of him, however.

_Aman._ Psha.

_Ber._ Psha----Well, 'tis a foolish Undertaking for Women in these kind of Matters, to pretend to deceive one another----Have not I been bred a Woman as well as you?

_Aman._ What then?

_Ber._ Why then I understand my Trade so well, that whenever I am told of a Man I like, I cry, Psha! But that I may spare you the pains of putting me a second time in mind to commend him, I'll proceed, and give you this account of him: That tho' 'tis possible he may have had Women with as good Faces as your Ladyship's, (no Discredit to it neither) yet you must know your cautious Behaviour, with that Reserve in your Humour, has given him his Death's Wound; he mortally hates a Coquette; he says 'tis impossible to love where he cannot esteem; and that no Woman can be esteemed by a Man who has Sense, if she makes herself cheap in the Eye of a Fool. That Pride to a Woman, is as necessary as Humility to a Divine; and that far-fetch'd, and dear bought, is Meat for Gentlemen, as well as for Ladies----In short, that every Woman who has Beauty may set a price upon herself, and that by under-selling the Market they ruin the Trade. This is his Doctrine, how do you like it?

_Aman._ So well that, since I never intend to have a Gallant for myself, if I were to recommend one to a Friend, he shou'd be the Man.

_Enter ~Worthy~._

Bless me, he's here! pray Heaven he did not hear me!

_Ber._ If he did, it won't hurt your Reputation; your Thoughts are as safe in his Heart as in your own.

_Wor._ I venture in at an unseasonable time of Night, Ladies; I hope if I am troublesome, you'll use the same freedom in turning me out again.

_Aman._ I believe it can't be late, for Mr. _Loveless_ is not come home yet, and he usually keeps good Hours.

_Wor._ Madam, I'm afraid he'll transgress a little to-night; for he told me about half an Hour ago, he was going to sup with some Company, he doubted would keep him out till three or four o'clock in the Morning, and desir'd I would let my Servant acquaint you with it, that you might not expect him: But my Fellow's a Blunder-head; so, lest he should make some mistake, I thought it my Duty to deliver the Message myself.

_Aman._ I'm very sorry he shou'd give you that trouble, Sir: But----

_Ber._ But since he has, will you give me leave, Madam, to keep him to play at Ombre with us?

_Aman._ Cousin, you know you command my House.

_Wor. to Ber._] And, Madam, you know you command me, tho' I'm a very wretched Gamester.

_Ber._ O you play well enough to lose your Money, and that's all the Ladies require; so without any more Ceremony, let us go into the next Room and call for the Cards.

_Aman._ With all my heart.

[_Exit ~Wor~. leading ~Aman~._

_Ber. sola._ Well, how this Business will end, Heaven knows; but she seems to me to be in as fair a way----as a Boy is to be a Rogue, when he's put Clerk to an Attorney.

[_Exit ~Berinthia~._

+SCENE+, Berinthia's _Chamber_.

_Enter ~Loveless~ cautiously in the dark._

_Lov._ So, thus for all's well. I'm got into her Bed-Chamber, and I think nobody has perceiv'd me steal into the House; my Wife don't expect me home till four o'Clock; so if _Berinthia_ comes to Bed by eleven, I shall have a Chace of five Hours. Let me see, where shall I hide myself? Under her Bed? No; we shall have her Maid searching there for something or other; her Closet's a better place, and I have a Master-Key will open it: I'll e'en in there, and attack her just when she comes to her Prayers, that's the most like to prove her critical Minute; for then the Devil will be there to assist me.

[_He opens the Closet, goes in, and shuts the door after him._

_Enter ~Berinthia~ with a Candle in her hand._

_Ber._ Well, sure I am the best-natur'd Woman in the World. I that love Cards so well (there is but one thing upon the Earth I love better) have pretended Letters to write, to give my Friends a _Tête-à-Tête_; however, I'm innocent, for Picquet is the Game I set 'em to: at her own peril be it, if she ventures to play with him at any other. But now what shall I do with myself? I don't know how in the World to pass my time; wou'd _Loveless_ were here to _badiner_ a little! Well, he's a charming Fellow, I don't wonder his Wife's so fond of him. What if I shou'd set down and think of him till I fall asleep, and dream of the Lord knows what? O, but then if I shou'd dream we were married, I shou'd be frighted out of my Wits. [_Seeing a Book._] What's this Book? I think I had best go read. _O Splenetique!_ 'tis a Sermon. Well, I'll go into my Closet, and read the _Plotting Sisters_. [_She opens the Closet, sees ~Loveless~, and shrieks out._] O Lord, a Ghost, a Ghost, a Ghost, a Ghost!

_Enter ~Loveless~ running to her._

_Lov._ Peace, my Dear; it's no Ghost, take it in your Arms, you'll find 'tis worth a hundred of 'em.

_Ber._ Run in again; here's somebody coming.

_Enter Maid._

_Maid._ O Lord, Madam, what's the matter?

_Ber._ O Heav'ns! I'm almost frighted out of my Wits. I thought verily I had seen a Ghost, and 'twas nothing but the white Curtain, with a black Hood pinn'd up against it; you may be gone again, I am the fearfullest Fool.--

[_Exit Maid._

_Re-enter ~Loveless~._

_Lov._ Is the Coast clear?

_Ber._ The Coast clear! I suppose you are clear, you'd never play such a Trick as this else.

_Lov._ I am very well pleas'd with my Trick thus far, and shall be so till I have play'd it out, if it ben't your Fault: where's my Wife?

_Ber._ At Cards.

_Lov._ With whom?

_Ber._ With _Worthy_.

_Lov._ Then we are safe enough.

_Ber._ You are so! Some Husbands wou'd be of another mind, if he were at Cards with their Wives.

_Lov._ And they'd be in the right on't too. But I dare trust mine:----Besides, I know he's in love in another place, and he's not one of those who court half a dozen at a time.

_Ber._ Nay, the truth on't is, you'd pity him if you saw how uneasy he is at being engag'd with us; but 'twas my Malice. I fancy'd he was to meet his Mistress some where else, so did it to have the pleasure of seeing him fret.

_Lov._ What says _Amanda_ to my staying abroad so late?

_Ber._ Why she's as much out of Humour as he, I believe they wish one another at the Devil.

_Lov._ Then I'm afraid they'll quarrel at Play, and soon throw up the Cards: [_Offering in pull her into her Closet._] Therefore, my dear charming Angel, let us make good use of our time.

_Ber._ Heavens! what do you mean?

_Lov._ Pray what do you think I mean?

_Ber._ I don't know.

_Lov._ I'll shew you.

_Ber._ You may as well tell me.

_Lov._ No, that wou'd make you blush worse than t'other.

_Ber._ Why, do you intend to make me blush?

_Lov._ Faith, I can't tell that; but if I do, it shall be in the dark.

[_Pulling her._

_Ber._ O Heavens! I wou'd not be in the dark with you for all the World.

_Lov._ I'll try that.

[_Puts out the Candles._

_Ber._ O Lord! are you mad! What shall I do for Light?

_Lov._ You'll do as well without it.

_Ber._ Why, one can't find a Chair to sit down?

_Lov._ Come into the Closet, Madam, there's Moonshine upon the Couch.

_Ber._ Nay, never pull, for I will not go.

_Lov._ Then you must be carried.

[_Carrying her._

_Ber._ Help, help, I'm ravish'd, ruin'd, undone. O Lord, I shall never be able to bear it.

[_Very softly._

+SCENE+, _Sir ~Tunbelly~'s House_.

_Enter Miss ~Hoyden~, Nurse, ~Young Fashion~, and ~Bull~._

_Young Fash._ This quick dispatch of yours, Mr. _Bull_, I take so kindly, it shall give you a claim to my Favour as long as I live, I do assure you.

_Miss._ And to mine too, I promise you.

_Bull._ I most humbly thank your Honours; and I hope, since it has been my Lot to join you in the holy Bands of Wedlock, you will so well cultivate the Soil which I have crav'd a Blessing on, that your Children may swarm about you like Bees about a Honey-Comb.

_Miss._ I'cod with all my Heart, the more the merrier, I say; ha, Nurse.

_Enter ~Lory~, taking his Master hastily aside._

_Lo._ One Word with you, for Heaven's sake.

_Young Fash._ What the Devil's the matter?

_Lo._ Sir, your Fortune's ruin'd, and I don't think your Life's worth a quarter of an Hour's Purchase: Yonder's your Brother arriv'd with two Coaches and six Horses, twenty Footmen and Pages, a Coat worth fourscore Pound, and a Perriwig down to his Knees: So judge what will become of your Lady's Heart.

_Young Fash._ Death and Furies! 'tis impossible.

_Lo._ Fiends and Spectres! Sir, 'tis true.

_Young Fash._ Is he in the House yet?

_Lo._ No, they are capitulating with him at the Gate; the Porter tells him, he's come to run away with _Miss Hoyden_, and has cock'd the Blunderbuss at him; your Brother swears Gad Damme, they are a parcel of Clawns, and he had a good mind to break off the Match; but they have given the Word for Sir _Tunbelly_, so I doubt all will come out presently. Pray, Sir, resolve what you'll do this Moment, for I'gad they'll maul you.

_Young Fash._ Stay a little. [_To Miss._] My Dear, here's a troublesome Business my Man tells me of; but don't be frighten'd, we shall be too hard for the Rogue. Here's an impudent Fellow at the Gate (not knowing I was come hither _incognito_) has taken my Name upon him, in hopes to run away with you.

_Miss._ O the Brazen-fac'd Varlet, it's well we are married, or may be we might never have been so.

_Young Fash._ [_Aside._] I'gad, like enough: Pr'ythee, dear Doctor, run to Sir _Tunbelly_, and stop him from going to the Gate, before I speak with him.

_Bull._ I fly, my good Lord----

[_Exit ~Bull~._

_Nurse._ An't please your Honour, my Lady and I had best lock ourselves up till the Danger be over.

_Young Fash._ Ay, by all means.

_Miss._ Not so fast, I won't be lock'd up any more. I'm marry'd.

_Young Fash._ Yes, pray my Dear do, till we have seiz'd this Rascal.

_Miss._ Nay, if you pray me, I'll do any thing.

[_Exeunt ~Miss~ and ~Nurse~._

_Young Fash._ O! here's Sir _Tunbelly_ coming. [_To_ Lo.] Hark you, Sirrah, things are better than you imagine; the Wedding's over.

_Lo._ The Devil it is, Sir.

_Young Fash._ Not a Word, all's safe: But Sir _Tunbelly_ don't know it, nor must not yet; so I am resolv'd to brazen the Business out, and have the Pleasure of turning the Impostor upon his Lordship, which I believe may easily be done.

_Enter Sir ~Tunbelly~, ~Chap.~ and ~Servants~ arm'd._

_Young Fash._ Did you ever hear, Sir, of so impudent an Undertaking?

Sir _Tun._ Never, by the Mass, but we'll tickle him, I'll warrant him.

_Young Fash._ They tell me, Sir, he has a great many People with him disguis'd like Servants.

Sir _Tun._ Ay, ay, Rogues enow; but I'll soon raise the Posse upon 'em.

_Young Fash._ Sir, if you'll take my Advice, we'll go a shorter way to work; I find, whoever this Spark is, he knows nothing of my being privately here; so if you pretend to receive him civilly, he'll enter without Suspicion; and as soon as he is within the Gate, we'll whip up the Drawbridge upon his Back, let fly the Blunderbuss to disperse the Crew, and so commit him to Gaol.

Sir _Tun._ I'gad, your Lordship is an ingenious Person, and a very great General; but shall we kill any of 'em, or not?

_Young Fash._ No, no, fire over their Heads only to fright them; I'll warrant the Regiment scours when the Colonel's a Prisoner.

Sir _Tun._ Then come along, my Boys, and let your Courage be great----for your Danger is but small.

[_Exeunt._

+SCENE+, _The Gate._

_Enter Lord ~Foppington~ and ~Followers~._

_Lord Fop._ A Pax of these Bumkinly People, will they open the Gate, or do they desire I shou'd grow at their Moat-side like a Willow? [_To the Porter._] Hey, Fellow--Pr'ythee do me the Favour, in as few words as thou canst find to express thyself, to tell me whether thy Master will admit me or not, that I may turn about my Coach, and be gone.

_Por._ Here's my Master himself now at hand, he's of Age, he'll give you his Answer.

_Enter Sir ~Tunbelly~, and his Servants._

Sir _Tun._ My most noble Lord, I crave your pardon for making your Honour wait so long; but my Orders to my servants have been to admit no body without my Knowledge, for fear of some Attempts upon my Daughter, the Times being full of Plots and Roguery.

_Lord Fop._ Much Caution, I must confess, is a Sign of great Wisdom: But, stap my Vitals, I have got a Cold enough to destroy a Porter--He, hem--

Sir _Tun._ I am very sorry for't, indeed, my Lord; but if your Lordship please to walk in, we'll help you to some brown Sugar-Candy. My Lord, I'll shew you the way.

_Lord Fop._ Sir, I follow you with pleasure.

[_Exeunt._

[_As Lord ~Foppington~'s Servants go to follow him
in, they clap the Door against ~La Varole~._

_Servants within._ Nay, hold you me there, Sir.

_La Var._ _Jernie, qu'est ce que veut dire ça?_

Sir _Tun._ [_Within._]----Fire, Porter.

_Porter fires._----Have among you, my Masters.

_La Var._ _Ah je suis mort_--

[_The servants all run off._

_Port._ Not one Soldier left, by the Mass.

+SCENE+ _changes into a Hall._

_Enter Sir ~Tunbelly~, the ~Chaplain~ and ~Servants~, with
Lord ~Foppington~ disarm'd._

Sir _Tun._ Come, bring him along, bring him along.

_Lord Fop._ What the Pax do you mean, Gentlemen, is it Fair time, that you are all drunk before Dinner?

Sir _Tun._ Drunk, Sirrah! Here's an impudent Rogue for you! Drunk or Sober, Bully, I'm a Justice of the Peace, and know how to deal with Strolers.

_Lord Fop._ Strolers!

Sir _Tun._ Ay, Strolers; come, give an account of yourself; what's your Name? where do you live? Do you pay Scot and Lot? Are you a _Williamite_, or a _Jacobite_? Come.

_Lord Fop._ And why dost thou ask me so many impertinent Questions?

Sir _Tun._ Because I'll make you answer 'em before I have done with you, you Rascal you.

_Lord Fop._ Before Gad, all the Answer I can make thee to 'em, is, that thou art a very extraordinary old Fellow; stap my Vitals--

Sir _Tun._ Nay, if you are for joaking with Deputy-Lieutenants, we know how to deal with you: Here, draw a Warrant for him immediately.

_Lord Fop._ A Warrant----what the Devil is't thou wou'dst be at, old Gentleman?

Sir _Tun._ I wou'd be at you, Sirrah, (if my Hands were not ty'd as a Magistrate) and with these two double Fists beat your Teeth down your Throat, you Dog you.

_Lord Fop._ And why would'st thou spoil my Face at that rate?

Sir _Tun._ For your Design to rob me of my Daughter, Villain.

_Lord Fop._ Rab thee of thy Daughter----Now I do begin to believe I am a-bed and a-sleep, and that all this is but a Dream--If it be, 'twill be an agreeable Surprize enough, to waken by and by; and instead of the impertinent Company of a nasty Country Justice, find my self perhaps in the Arms of a Woman of Quality--[_To Sir ~Tun.~_] Pr'ythee, old Father, wilt thou give me leave to ask thee one Question?

Sir _Tun._ I can't tell whether I will or not, till I know what it is.

_Lord Fop._ Why, then, it is, whether thou didst not write to my Lord _Foppington_ to come down and marry thy Daughter?

Sir _Tun._ Yes, marry did I, and my Lord _Foppington_ is come down, and shall marry my Daughter before she's a Day older.

_Lord Fop._ Now give me thy Hand, dear Dad, I thought we should understand one another at last.

Sir _Tun._ This Fellow's mad----here bind him Hand and Foot.

[_They bind him down._

_Lord Fop._ Nay, pr'ythee, Knight, leave fooling, thy Jest begins to grow dull.

Sir _Tun._ Bind him, I say, he's mad----Bread and Water, a dark Room, and a Whip, may bring him to his Senses again.

_Lord Fop._ [_Aside._] I'gad, if I don't waken quickly, by all that I can see, this is like to prove one of the most impertinent Dreams that ever I dreamt in my Life.

_Enter ~Miss~ and ~Nurse~._ [_~Miss~ going up to him._]

_Miss._ Is this he that wou'd have run away with me? Fough, how he stinks of sweets! Pray, Father, let him be dragg'd through the Horse-Pond.

_Lord Fop._ [_Aside._] This must be my Wife by her natural Inclination to her Husband.

_Miss._ Pray, Father, what do you intend to do with him? hang him?

Sir _Tun._ That at least, Child.

_Nurse._ Ay, and it's e'en too good for him too.

_Lord Fop._ [_Aside._] _Madame la Governante_, I presume, hitherto this appears to me to be one of the most extraordinary Families that ever Man of Quality match'd into.

Sir _Tun._ What's become of my Lord, Daughter?

_Miss._ He's just coming, Sir.

_Lord Fop._ [_Aside._] My Lord----What does he mean by that now?

_Enter ~Young Fashion~ and ~Lory~._

_Seeing him._] Stap my Vitals, _Tam_, now the Dream's out.

_Young Fash._ Is this the Fellow, Sir, that design'd to trick me of your Daughter?

Sir _Tun._ This is he, my Lord, how do you like him? Is not he a pretty Fellow to get a Fortune?

_Young Fash._ I find by his Dress, he thought your Daughter might be taken with a Beau.

_Miss._ O Gemini! Is this a Beau? let me see him again----ha! I find a Beau is no such ugly thing neither.

_Young Fash._ I'gad, she'll be in love with him presently; I'll e'en have him sent away to Gaol. [_To_ Lord Fop.] Sir, tho' your Undertaking shews you are a Person of no extraordinary Modesty, I suppose you han't Confidence enough to expect much Favour from me.

_Lord Fop._ Strike me dumb, _Tam_, thou art a very impudent Fellow.

_Nurse._ Look if the Varlet has not the Frontery to call his Lordship plain _Thomas_.

_Bull._ The business is, he wou'd feign himself mad, to avoid going to Gaol.

_Lord Fop._ [_Aside._] That must be the Chaplain, by his unfolding of Mysteries.

Sir _Tun._ Come, is the Warrant writ?

_Cler._ Yes, Sir.

Sir _Tun._ Give me the Pen, I'll sign it----So now, Constable, away with him.

_Lord Fop._ Hold one Moment----Pray, Gentlemen; my Lord _Foppington_, shall I beg one Word with your Lordship?

_Nurse._ O ho, it's my Lord with him now; see how Afflictions will humble Folks.

_Miss._ Pray, my Lord, don't let him whisper too close, lest he bite your Ear off.

_Lord Fop._. I am not altogether so hungry, as your Ladyship is pleased to imagine. [_To_ Young Fash.] Look you, _Tam_, I am sensible I have not been so kind to you as I ought, but I hope you'll forget what's past, and accept of the five thousand Pounds I offer; thou may'st live in extreme Splendor with it; stap my Vitals.

_Young Fash._ It's a much easier matter to prevent a Disease than to cure it; a quarter of that Sum would have secur'd your Mistress; twice as much won't redeem her.

[_Leaving him._

Sir _Tun._ Well, what says he?

_Young Fash._ Only the Rascal offer'd me a Bribe to let him go.

Sir _Tun._ Ay, he shall go, with a Pox to him: Lead on, Constable.

_Lord Fop._. One word more, and I've done.

Sir _Tun._ Before Gad, thou art an impudent Fellow, to trouble the Court at this rate, after thou art condemned; but speak once for all.

_Lord Fop._ Why then once for all; I have at last luckily call'd to mind, that there is a Gentleman of this Country, who I believe cannot live far from this place, if he were here, would satisfy you, I am _Novelty_, Baron of _Foppington_, with five thousand Pounds a year, and that Fellow there a Rascal, not worth a Groat.

Sir _Tun._ Very well; now who is this honest Gentleman you are so well acquainted with. [_To_ Young Fash.] Come, Sir, we shall hamper him.

_Lord Fop._ 'Tis Sir _John Friendly_.

Sir _Tun._ So, he lives within half a Mile, and came down into the Country but last Night; this bold-fac'd Fellow thought he had been at _London_ still, and so quoted him; now we shall display him in his Colours: I'll send for Sir _John_ immediately. Here, Fellow, away presently; and desire my Neighbour he'll do me the favour to step over, upon an extraordinary Occasion; and in the mean while you had best secure this Sharper in the _Gate-House_.

_Const._ An't please your Worship, he may chance to give us the Slip thence: If I were worthy to advise, I think the Dog-kennel's a surer Place.

Sir _Tun._ With all my heart, anywhere.

_Lord Fop._ Nay, for Heaven's sake, Sir, do me the favour to put me in a clean Room, that I mayn't daub my Clothes.

Sir _Tun._ O when you have married my Daughter, her Estate will afford you new ones: Away with him.

_Lord Fop._ A dirty Country Justice is a barbarous Magistrate, stap my Vitals----

[_Exit Constable with Lord ~Foppington~._

_Young Fash._ [_Aside._] I gad I must prevent this Knight's coming, or the House will grow soon too hot to hold me.

_To_ Sir _Tun._] Sir, I fancy 'tis not worth while to trouble Sir _John_ upon this impertinent Fellow's Desire: I'll send and call the Messenger back----

Sir _Tun._ Nay, with all my heart; for to be sure he thought he was far enough off, or the Rogue wou'd never have nam'd him.

_Enter Servant._

_Serv._ Sir, I met Sir _John_ just lighting at the Gate; he's come to wait upon you.

Sir _Tun._ Nay, then it happens as one cou'd wish.

_Young Fash._ [_Aside._] The Devil it does! _Lory_, you see how things are, here will be a Discovery presently, and we shall have our Brains beat out: For my Brother will be sure to swear he don't know me: Therefore run into the Stable, take the two first Horses you can light on, I'll slip out at the Back-Door, and we'll away immediately.

_Lo._ What, and leave your Lady, Sir?

_Young Fash._ There's no Danger in that, as long as I have taken possession; I shall know how to treat with them well enough, if once I am out of their reach. Away, I'll steal after thee.

[_Exit ~Lory~, his Master follows
him out at one Door, as Sir ~John~ enters at t'other._

_Enter Sir ~John~._

Sir _Tun._ Sir _John_, you are the welcom'st Man alive; I had just sent a Messenger to desire you'd step over, upon a very extraordinary Occasion--we are all in Arms here.

Sir _John._ How so?

Sir _Tun._ Why, you must know----a sinical sort of a tawdry Fellow here (I don't know who the Devil he is, not I) hearing, I suppose, that the Match was concluded between my Lord _Foppington_ and my Girl _Hoyden_, comes impudently to the Gate, and with a whole Pack of Rogues in Liveries, wou'd have pass'd upon me for his Lordship: But what does I? I comes up to him boldly at the Head of his Guards, takes him by the Throat, strikes up his Heels, binds him Hand and Foot, dispatches a Warrant, and commits him Prisoner to the Dog-kennel.

Sir _John._ So, but how do you know but this was my Lord? for I was told he set out from _London_ the Day before me, with a very fine Retinue, and intended to come directly hither.

Sir _Tun._ Why now to shew you how many Lies People raise in that damn'd Town, he came two Nights ago Post, with only one Servant, and is now in the House with me: But you don't know the Cream of the Jest yet; this same Rogue, (that lies yonder Neck and Heels among the Hounds) thinking you were out of the Country, quotes you for his Acquaintance, and said, if you were here, you'd justify him to be Lord _Foppington_, and I know not what.

Sir _John._ Pray will you let me see him?

Sir _Tun._ Ay, that you shall presently----here, fetch the Prisoner.

[_Exit Servant._

Sir _John._ I wish there ben't some Mistake in the Business, where's my Lord? I know him very well.

Sir _Tun._ He was here just now; see for him, Doctor, tell him Sir _John_ is here to wait upon him.

[_Ex. Chaplain._

Sir _John._ I hope, Sir _Tunbelly_, the young Lady is not married yet.

Sir _Tun._ No, things won't be ready this Week; but why do you say, you hope she is not married?

Sir _John._ Some foolish Fancies only, perhaps I'm mistaken.

_Re-enter Chaplain._

_Bull._ Sir, his Lordship is just rid out to take the Air.

Sir _Tun._ To take the Air! Is that his _London_ Breeding, to go to take the Air, when Gentlemen come to visit him?

Sir _John._ 'Tis possible he might want it, he might not be well, some sudden Qualm perhaps.

_Enter Constable, ~&c.~ with Lord ~Foppington~._

_Lord Fop._ Stap my Vitals, I'll have Satisfaction.

Sir _John._ [_Running to him._] My dear Lord _Foppington_!

_Lord Fop._ Dear _Friendly_, thou art come in the critical Minute, strike me dumb.

Sir _John._ Why, I little thought to have found you in Fetters.

_Lord Fop._ Why truly the World must do me the justice to confess, I do use to appear, a little more _degagé_: But this old Gentleman, not liking the Freedom of my Air, has been pleased to skewer down my Arms like a Rabbit.

Sir _Tun._ Is it then possible that this shou'd be the true Lord _Foppington_ at last?

_Lord Fop._ Why what do you see in his Face to make you doubt of it? Sir, without presuming to have any extraordinary Opinion of my Figure, give me leave to tell you, if you had seen as many Lords as I have done, you would not think it impossible a Person of a worse _Taille_ than mine, might be a modern Man of Quality.

Sir _Tun._ Unbind him, Slaves: my Lord, I'm struck dumb, I can only beg Pardon by Signs; but if a Sacrifice will appease you, you shall have it. Here, pursue this _Tartar_, bring him back----Away, I say, a Dog, Oons----I'll cut off his Ears and his Tail, I'll draw out all his Teeth, pull his skin over his Head----and----what shall I do more?

Sir _John._ He does indeed deserve to be made an Example of.