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The Works of Aphra Behn, Vol. II by Aphra Behn

Part 6 out of 11

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_Charl_. Enough; I am resolv'd upon this Design; let's in and practise
the northern Dialect.

[_Ex. both_.

SCENE II. _The Street_.

_Enter_ Wilding _and_ Foppington.

_Wild_. But then _Diana_ took the Ring at last?

_Fop_. Greedily, but rail'd, and swore, and ranted at your
late Unkindness, and wou'd not be appeas'd.

_Enter_ Dresswell.

_Wild. Dresswell_, I was just going to see for thee.

_Dres_. I'm glad, dear _Tom_, I'm here to serve thee.

_Wild_. And now I've found thee, thou must along with me.

_Dres_. Whither? but I'll not ask, but obey.

_Wild_. To a kind Sinner, _Frank_.

_Dres_. Pox on 'em all; prithee turn out those petty Tyrants of thy
Heart, and fit it for a Monarch, Love, dear _Wilding_, of which them
never knew'st the Pleasure yet or not above a day.

_Wild_. Not knew the Pleasure! Death, the very Essence the first Draughts
of Love. Ah, how pleasant 'tis to drink when a Man's a dry! The rest is
all but dully sipping on.

_Dres_. And yet this _Diana_, for thither thou art going, thou hast been
constant to this three or four Years.

_Wild_. A constant Keeper thou mean'st; which is indeed enough to get the
Scandal of a Coxcomb: But I know not, those sort of Baggages have a kind
of Fascination so inticing--and faith, after the Fatigues of formal
Visits to a Man's dull Relations, or what's as bad, to Women of Quality;
after the busy Afflictions of the Day, and the Debauches of the tedious
Night, I tell thee, _Frank_, a Man's best Retirement is with a soft kind
Wench. But to say Truth, I have a farther Design in my Visit now. Thou
know'st how I stand past hope of Grace, excommunicated the Kindness of my
Uncle.

_Dres_. True.

_Wild_. My leud Debauches, and being o'th' wrong Party, as he calls it,
is now become an _irreconcilable_ Quarrel, so that I having many and
hopeful Intrigues now depending, especially those of my charming Widow,
and my City-Heiress, which can by no means be carried on without that
damn'd necessary call'd ready Mony; I have stretcht my Credit, as all
young Heirs do, till 'tis quite broke. New Liveries, Coaches, and Clothes
must be had, they must, my Friend.

_Dres_. Why do'st thou not in this Extremity clap up a Match with my Lady
_Galliard_? or this young Heiress you speak of?

_Wild_. But Marriage, _Frank_, is such a Bugbear! And this old Uncle of
mine may one day be gathered together, and sleep with his Fathers, and
then I shall have six thousand Pound a Year, and the wide World before
me; and who the Devil cou'd relish these Blessings with the clog of a
Wife behind him?--But till then, Money must be had, I say.

_Fop_. Ay, but how, Sir?

_Wild_. Why, from the old Fountain, _Jack_, my Uncle; he has himself
decreed it: He tells me I must live upon my Wits, and will, _Frank_.

_Fop_. Gad, I'm impatient to know how.

_Wild_. I believe thee, for thou art out at Elbows; and when I thrive,
you show it i'th' Pit, behind the Scenes, and at Coffee-houses. Thy
Breeches give a better account of my Fortune, than Lilly with all his
Schemes and Stars.

_Fop_. I own I thrive by your influence, Sir.

_Dres_. Well, but to your Project, Friend, to which I'll set a helping
Hand, a Heart, a Sword, and Fortune.

_Wild_. You make good what my Soul conceives of you. Let's to _Diana_
then, and there I'll tell thee all.
[_Going out, they meet_ Diana, _who enters with her
Maid_ Betty, _and Boy, looks angrily_.
--_Diana_, I was just going to thy Lodgings!

_Dia_. Oh, las, you are too much taken up with your rich City-Heiress.

_Wild_. That's no cause of quarrel between you and I, _Diana_: you were
wont to be as impatient for my marrying, as I for the Death of my Uncle;
for your rich Wife ever obliges her Husband's Mistress; and Women of your
sort, _Diana_, ever thrive better by Adultery than Fornication.

_Dia_. Do, try to appease the easy Fool with these fine Expectations--No,
I have been too often flatter'd with the hopes of your marrying a rich
Wife, and then I was to have a Settlement; but instead of that, things go
backward with me, my Coach is vanish'd, my Servants dwindled into one
necessary Woman and a Boy, which to save Charges, is too small for any
Service; my twenty Guineas a Week, into forty Shillings; a hopeful
Reformation!

_Wild_. Patience, _Diana_, things will mend in time.

_Dia_. When, I wonder? Summer's come, yet I am still in my embroider'd
Manteau, when I'm drest, lin'd with Velvet; 'twould give one a Fever but
to look at me: yet still I am flamm'd off with hopes of a rich Wife,
whose Fortune I am to lavish.--But I see you have neither Conscience nor
Religion in you; I wonder what a Devil will become of your Soul for thus
deluding me!
[_Weeps_.

_Wild_. By Heaven, I love thee!

_Dia_. Love me! what if you do? how far will that go at the Exchange for
Point? Will the Mercer take it for current Coin?--But 'tis no matter, I
must love a Wit with a Pox, when I might have had so many Fools of
Fortune: but the Devil take me, if you deceive me any longer.
[_Weeping_.

_Wild_. You'll keep your word, no doubt, now you have sworn.

_Dia_. So I will. I never go abroad, but I gain new Conquests. Happy's
the Man that can approach nearest the Side-box where I sit at a Play, to
look at me; but if I deign to smile on him, Lord, how the overjoy'd
Creature returns it with a Bow low as the very Benches; Then rising,
shakes his Ears, looks round with Pride, to see who took notice how much
he was in favour with charming Mrs. _Dy_.

_Wild_. No more, come, let's be Friends, _Diana_; for you and I must
manage an Uncle of mine.

_Dia_. Damn your Projects, I'll have none of 'em.

_Wild_. Here, here's the best softner of a Woman's Heart; 'tis Gold, two
hundred Pieces: Go, lay it out, till you shame Quality into plain Silk
and Fringe.

_Dia_. Lord, you have the strangest power of persuasion! Nay, if you buy
my Peace, I can afford a Pennyworth.

_Wild_. So thou canst of anything about thee.

_Dia_. Well, your Project, my dear _Tommy_?

_Wild_. Thus then--Thou, dear _Frank_, shalt to my Uncle, tell him, that
Sir _Nicholas Gett-all_, as he knows, being dead, and having left, as he
knows too, one only Daughter his whole Executrix, Mrs. _Charlot_, I have
by my civil and modest Behaviour, so won upon her Heart, that two Nights
since she left her Father's Country-house at _Lusum_ in _Kent_, in spite
of all her strict Guards, and run away with me.

_Dres_. How, wilt thou tell him of it, then?

_Wild_. Hear me--That I have hitherto secur'd her at a Friend's House
here in the City; but diligent search being now made, dare trust her
there no longer: and make it my humble Request by you, my Friend, (who
are only privy to this Secret) that he wou'd give me leave to bring her
home to his House, whose very Authority will defend her from being sought
for there.

_Dres_. Ay, Sir, but what will come of this, I say?

_Wild_. Why, a Settlement; you know he has already made me Heir to all he
has, after his decease: but for being a wicked Tory, as he calls me, he
has after the Writings were made, sign'd, and seal'd, refus'd to give 'em
in trust. Now when he sees I have made my self Master of so vast a
Fortune, he will immediately surrender; that reconciles all again.

_Dres_. Very likely; but wo't thou trust him with the Woman, Thomas.

_Wild_. No, here's _Diana_, who, as I shall bedizen, shall pass for as
substantial an Alderman's Heiress as ever fell into wicked Hands. He
never knew the right _Charlot_, nor indeed has any body ever seen her but
an old Aunt and Nurse, she was so kept up--And there, _Diana_, thou shall
have a good opportunity to lye, dissemble, and jilt in abundance, to keep
thy hand in ure. Prithee, dear _Dresswell_, haste with the News to him.

_Dres_. Faith, I like this well enough; this Project may take,
and I'll about it.
[_Goes out_.

_Wild_. Go, get ye home, and trick and betauder your self up like a right
City-Lady, rich, but ill-fashion'd; on with all your Jewels, but not a
Patch, ye Gypsy, nor no Spanish Paint d'ye hear.

_Dia_. I'll warrant you for my part.

_Wild_. Then before the old Gentleman, you must behave your self very
soberly, simple, and demure, and look as prew as at a Conventicle; and
take heed you drink not off your Glass at Table, nor rant, nor swear: one
Oath confounds our Plot, and betrays thee to be an arrant Drab.

_Dia_. Doubt not my Art of Dissimulation.

_Wild_. Go, haste and dress--
[_Ex_. Dian. Bet. _and Boy_.

_Enter Lady_ Gall, _and_ Closet, _above in the Balcony_;
Wild. _going out, sees them, stops, and reads a Paper_.

_Wild_. Hah, who's yonder? the Widow! a Pox upon't, now have I not power
to stir; she has a damn'd hank upon my Heart, and nothing but right down
lying with her will dissolve the Charm. She has forbid me seeing her, and
therefore I am sure will the sooner take notice of me.
[_Reads_.

_Clos_. What will you put on to night, Madam? You know you are to sup at
Sir _Timothy Treat-all's_.

L. _Gal_. Time enough for that; prithee let's take a turn in this
Balcony, this City-Garden, where we walk to take the fresh Air of the
Sea-coal Smoak. Did the Footman go back, as I ordered him, to see how
_Wilding_ and Sir _Charles_ parted?

_CIos_. He did, Madam, and nothing cou'd provoke Sir _Charles_ to fight
after your Ladyship's strict Commands. Well, I'll swear he's the sweetest
natur'd Gentleman--has all the advantages of Nature and Fortune: I wonder
what Exception your Ladyship has to him.

L. _Gal_. Some small Exception to his whining Humour; but I think my
chiefest dislike is, because my Relations wish it a Match between us. It
is not hate to him, but natural contradiction. Hah, is not that _Wilding_
yonder? he's reading of a Letter sure.

_Wild_. So, she sees me. Now for an Art to make her lure me up: for
though I have a greater mind than she, it shall be all her own; the Match
she told me of this Morning with my Uncle, sticks plaguily upon my
Stomach; I must break the Neck on't, or break the Widow's Heart, that's
certain. If I advance towards the Door now, she frowningly retires; if I
pass on, 'tis likely she may call
me.
[_Advances_.

L. _Gal_. I think he's passing on,
Without so much as looking towards the Window.

_Clos_. He's glad of the excuse of being forbidden.

L. _Gal_. But, Closet, know'st thou not he has abus'd my Fame,
And does he think to pass thus unupbraided?
Is there no Art to make him look this way?
No Trick--Prithee feign to laugh. [Clos. _laughs_.

_Wild_. So, I shall not answer to that Call.

L. _Gal_. He's going! Ah, Closet, my Fan!--
[_Lets fall her Fan just as he passes by; he
takes it up, and looks up_.
Cry mercy, Sir, I am sorry I must trouble you to bring it.

_Wild_. Faith, so am I; and you may spare my Pains, and send your Woman
for't, I'm in haste.

L. _Gal_. Then the quickest way will be to bring it.
[_Goes out of the Balcony with_ Closet.

_Wild_. I knew I should be drawn in one way or other.

SCENE III. _Changes to a Chamber_.

_Enter L_. Galliard, Wilding, Closet. _To them_ Wilding,
_delivers the Fan, and is retiring_.

L. _Gal_. Stay, I hear you're wondrous free of your Tongue, when 'tis let
loose on me.

_Wild_. Who, I, Widow? I think of no such trifles.

L. _Gal_. Such Railers never think when they're abusive; but something
you have said, a Lye so infamous!

_Wild_. A Lye, and infamous of you! impossible! What was it that I call'd
you, Wise or Honest?

L. _Gal_. How can you accuse me with the want of either?

_Wild_. Yes, of both: Had you a grain of Honesty, or intended ever to be
thought so, wou'd you have the impudence to marry an old Coxcomb, a
Fellow that will not so much as serve you for a Cloke, he is so visibly
and undeniably impotent?

L. _Gal_. Your Uncle you mean.

_Wild_. I do, who has not known the Joy of Fornication this thirty Year,
and now the Devil and you have put it into his Head to marry, forsooth.
Oh, the Felicity of the Wedding-Night!

L. _Gal_. Which you, with all your railing Rhetorick, shall not have
power to hinder.

_Wild_. Not if you can help it; for I perceive you are resolved to be a
leud incorrigible Sinner, and marry'st this seditious doting Fool my
Uncle, only to hang him out for the sign of the Cuckold, to give notice
where Beauty is to be purchas'd, for fear otherwise we should mistake,
and think thee honest.

L. _Gal_. So much for my want of Honesty; my Wit is the part of the Text
you are to handle next.

_Wild_. Let the World judge of that by this one Action: This Marriage
undisputably robs you both of your Reputation and Pleasure. Marry an old
Fool, because he's rich! when so many handsome proper younger Brothers
wou'd be glad of you.

L. _Gal_. Of which hopeful number your self are one.

_Wild_. Who, I! Bear witness, Closet; take notice I'm upon my Marriage,
Widow, and such a Scandal on my Reputation might ruin me; therefore have
a care what
you say.

L. _Gal_. Ha, ha, ha, Marriage! Yes, I hear you give it out, you are to
be married to me: for which Defamation, if I be not reveng'd, hang me.

_Wild_. Yes, you are reveng'd; I had the fame of vanquishing where'er I
laid my Seige, till I knew thee, hard-hearted thee; had the honest
Reputation of lying with the Magistrates Wives, when their Reverend
Husbands Were employ'd in the necessary Affairs of the Nation,
seditiously petitioning: and then I was esteemed; but now they look on me
as a monstrous thing, that makes honourable Love to you. Oh, hideous, a
Husband Lover! so that now I may protest, and swear, and lye my Heart
out, I find neither Credit nor Kindness; but when I beg for either, my
Lady _Galliard's_ thrown in my Dish: Then they laugh aloud, and cry, who
wou'd think it of gay, of fine Mr. _Wilding_? Thus the City She-wits are
let loose upon me, and all for you, sweet Widow: but I am resolv'd I will
redeem my Reputation again, if never seeing you, nor writing to you more,
will do it. And so farewel, faithless and scandalous honest Woman.

L. _Gal_. Stay, Tyrant.

_Wild_. I am engag'd.

L. _Gal_. You are not.

_Wild_. I am, and am resolv'd to lose no more time on a peevish Woman,
who values her Honour above her Lover. [_He goes out_.

L. _Gal_. Go, this is the noblest way of losing thee.

_Clos_. Must I not call him back?

L. _Gal_. No, if any honest Lover come, admit him; I will forget this
Devil. Fetch me some Jewels; the Company to night at Sir Timothy's may
divert me.
[_She sits down before her Glass_.

_Enter_ Boy.

_Boy_. Madam, one, Sir Anthony Meriwill, wou'd speak with your Ladyship.

L. _Gal_. Admit him; sure 'tis Sir _Charles_ his Uncle; if he come to
treat a Match with me for his Nephew, he takes me in a critical Minute.
Wou'd he but leave his whining, I might love him, if 'twere but in
Revenge.

_Enter Sir_ Anthony Meriwill _and Sir_ Charles.

_Sir. Anth_. So, I have tutor'd the young Rogue, I hope he'll learn in
time. Good Day to your Ladyship; _Charles_ [putting him forward] my
Nephew here, Madam--Sirrah--notwithstanding your Ladyship's Commands--
Look how he stands now, being a mad young Rascal!--Gad, he wou'd wait on
your Ladyship--A Devil on him, see if he'll budge now--For he's a brisk
Lover, Madam, when he once begins. A Pox on him, he'll spoil all yet.

L. _Gal_. Please you sit, Sir.

Sir _Char_. Madam, I beg your Pardon for my Rudeness.

L. _Gal_. Still whining?--
[_Dressing her self carelesly_.

Sir _Anth_. D'ye hear that, Sirrah? oh, damn it, beg Pardon! the Rogue's
quite out of's part.

Sir _Char_. Madam, I fear my Visit is unseasonable.

Sir _Anth_. Unseasonable! damn'd Rogue, unseasonable to a Widow?--Quite
out.

L. _Gal_. There are indeed some Ladies that wou'd be angry at an untimely
Visit, before they've put on their best Faces, but I am none of those
that wou'd be fair in spite of Nature, Sir--Put on this Jewel here.
[_To_ Clos.

Sir _Char_. That Beauty needs no Ornament, Heaven has been too bountiful.

Sir _Anth_. Heaven! Oh Lord, Heaven! a puritanical Rogue, he courts her
like her Chaplain. [_Aside, vext_.

L. _Gal_. You are still so full of University Complements--

Sir _Anth_. D'ye hear that, Sirrah?--Ay, so he is, indeed, Madam--To her
like a Man, ye Knave. [_Aside to him_.

Sir _Char_. Ah, Madam, I am come--

Sir _Anth_. To shew your self a Coxcomb.

L. _Gal_. To tire me with Discourses of your Passion--
Fie, how this Curl fits!
[Looking in the Glass.

Sir _Char_. No, you shall hear no more of that ungrateful Subject.

Sir _Anth_. Son of a Whore, hear no more of Love, damn'd Rogue! Madam, by
George, he lyes; he does come to speak of Love, and make Love, and to do
Love, and all for Love--Not come to speak of Love, with a Pox! Owns, Sir,
behave your self like a Man; be impudent, be saucy, forward, bold,
touzing, and leud, d'ye hear, or I'll beat thee before her: why, what a
Pox! [_Aside to him, he minds it not_.

Sir _Char_. Finding my Hopes quite lost in your unequal Favours to young
_Wilding_, I'm quitting of the Town.

L. _Gal_. You will do well to do so--lay by that Necklace, I'll wear
Pearl to day. [_To_ Clos.

Sir _Anth_. Confounded Blockhead!--by George, he lyes again, Madam. A
Dog, I'll disinherit him. [_Aside_.] He quit the Town, Madam! no, not
whilst your Ladyship is in it, to my Knowledge. He'll live in the Town,
nay, in the Street where you live; nay, in the House; nay, in the very
Bed, by George; I've heard him a thousand times swear it. Swear it now,
Sirrah: look, look, how he stands now! Why, dear _Charles_, good Boy,
swear a little, ruffle her, and swear, damn it, she shall have none but
thee. [_Aside to him_.] Why, you little think, Madam, that this Nephew
of mine is one of the maddest Fellows in all Devonshire.

L. _Gal_. Wou'd I cou'd see't, Sir.

Sir _Anth_. See't! look ye there, ye Rogue--Why, 'tis all his Fault,
Madam. He's seldom sober; then he has a dozen Wenches in pay, that he may
with the more Authority break their Windows. There's never a Maid within
forty Miles of Meriwill-Hall to work a Miracle on, but all are Mothers.
He's a hopeful Youth, I'll say that for him.

Sir _Char_. How I have lov'd you, my Despairs shall witness: for I will
die to purchase your Content.
[_She rises_.

Sir _Anth_. Die, a damn'd Rogue! Ay, ay, I'll disinherit him: A Dog, die,
with a Pox! No, he'll be hang'd first, Madam.

Sir _Char_. And sure you'll pity me when I'm dead.

Sir _Anth_. A curse on him; pity, with a Pox. I'll give him ne'er a
Souse.

L. _Gal_. Give me that Essence-bottle. [_To_ Clos.

Sir _Char_. But for a Recompence of all my Sufferings--

L. _Gal_. Sprinkle my Handkerchief with Tuberose. [_To_ Clos.

Sir _Char_. I beg a Favour you'd afford a Stranger.

L. _Gal_. Sooner, perhaps. What Jewel's that? [_To_ Clos.

_Clos_. One Sir _Charles Merwill_--

L. _Gal_. Sent, and you receiv'd without my Order!
No wonder that he looks so scurvily.
Give him the Trifle back to mend his Humour.

Sir _Anth_. I thank you, Madam, for that Reprimand. Look in that Glass,
Sir, and admire that sneaking Coxcomb's Countenance of yours: a pox on
him, he's past Grace, lost, gone: not a Souse, not a Groat; good b'ye to
you, Sir. Madam, I beg your Pardon; the next time I come a wooing, it
shall be for my self, Madam, and I have something that will justify it
too; but as for this Fellow, if your Ladyship have e'er a small Page at
leisure, I desire he may have Order to kick him down Stairs. A damn'd
Rogue, to be civil now, when he shou'd have behav'd himself handsomely!
Not an Acre, not a Shilling--buy Sir Softhead.
[_Going out meets Wild, and returns_.]
Hah, who have we here, hum, the fine mad Fellow? so, so, he'll swinge
him, I hope; I'll stay to have the pleasure of seeing it done.

_Enter_ Wilding, _brushes by Sir_ Charles.

_Wild_. I was sure 'twas Meriwill's Coach at Door.
[_Aside_.

Sir _Char_. Hah, _Wilding_!

Sir _Anth_. Ay, now, Sir, here's one will waken ye, Sir.
[_To Sir_ Char.

_Wild_. How now, Widow, you are always giving Audience to Lovers, I see.

Sir _Char_. You're very free, Sir.

_Wild_. I am always so in the Widow's Lodgings, Sir.

Sir _Anth_. A rare Fellow!

Sir _Char_. You will not do't elsewhere?

_Wild_. Not with so much Authority.

Sir _Anth_. An admirable Fellow! I must be acquainted with him.

Sir _Char_. Is this the Respect you pay Women of her Quality?

_Wild_. The Widow knows I stand not much upon Ceremonies.

Sir _Anth_. Gad, he shall be my Heir. [_Aside still_.

L. _Gal_. Pardon him, Sir, this is his Cambridge Breeding.

Sir _Anth_. Ay, so 'tis, so 'tis, that two Years there quite spoil'd him.

L. _Gal_. Sir, if you've any further Business with me, speak it; if not,
I'm going forth.

Sir _Char_. Madam, in short--

Sir _Anth_. In short to a Widow, in short! quite lost.

Sir _Char_. I find you treat me ill for my Respect;
And when I court you next,
I will forget how very much I love you.

Sir _Anth_. Sir, I shall be proud of your farther Acquaintance; for I
like, love, and honour you.
[_To_ Wild.

_Wild_. I'll study to deserve it, Sir.

Sir _Anth_. Madam, your Servant. A damn'd sneaking Dog, to be civil and
modest with a Pox!
[_Ex. Sir_ Char, _and Sir_ Anth.

L. _Gal_. See if my Coach be ready.
[_Ex_. CIos.

_Wild_. Whether are you janting now?

L. _Gal_. Where you dare not wait on me, to your Uncle's to Supper.

_Wild_. That Uncle of mine pimps for all the Sparks of his Party;
There they all meet and bargain without Scandal:
Fops of all sorts and sizes you may chuse,
Whig-land offers not such another Market.

_Enter_ Closet.

_Clos_. Madam, here's Sir _Timothy Treat-all_ come to wait on your
Ladyship to Supper.

_Wild_. My Uncle! Oh, damn him, he was born to be my Plague: not--
Disinheriting me had not been so great a Disappointment; and if he sees
me here, I ruin all the Plots I've laid for him. Ha, he's here.

_Enter Sir_ Tim.

Sir _Tim_. How, my Nephew Thomas here!

_Wild_. Madam, I find you can be cruel too,
Knowing my Uncle has abandon'd me.

Sir _Tim_. How now, Sir, what's your Business here?

_Wild_. I came to beg a Favour of my Lady _Galliard_, Sir, knowing her
Power and Quality here in the City.

Sir _Tim_. How a Favour of my Lady _Galliard_! The Rogue said indeed he
would cuckold me. [_Aside_.] Why, Sir, I thought you had been taken up
with your rich Heiress?

_Wild_. That was my Business now, Sir: Having in my possession the
Daughter and Heir of Sir _Nicholas Gett-all_, I would have made use of the
Authority of my Lady _Galliard's_ House to have secur'd her, till I got
things in order for our Marriage; but my Lady, to put me off, cries I
have an Uncle.

L. _Gal_. A well contrived Lye. [_Aside_.

Sir _Tim_. Well, I have heard of your good Fortune; and however a
Reprobate thou hast been, I'll not shew my self so undutiful an Uncle, as
not to give the Gentlewoman a little House-room: I heard indeed she was
gone a week ago, And, Sir, my House is at your Service.

_Wild_. I humbly thank you, Sir. Madam, your Servant. A pox upon him and
his Association.
[_Goes out_.

Sir _Tim_. Come, Madam, my Coach waits below.

[_Exit_.

ACT III.

SCENE I. _A Room_.

_Enter Sir_ Timothy Treat-all, _and_ Jervice.

Sir _Tim_. Here, take my Sword, _Jervice_. What have you inquir'd, as I
directed you, concerning the rich Heiress, Sir _Nicholas Get-all's_
Daughter?

_Jer_. Alas, Sir, inquir'd! why, 'tis all the City-News that she's run
away with one of the maddest Tories about Town.

Sir _Tim_. Good Lord! Ay, ay, 'tis so; the plaguy Rogue my Nephew has got
her. That Heaven shou'd drop such Blessings in the Mouths of the wicked!
Well, _Jervice_, what Company have we in the House, _Jervice_?

_Jer_. Why, truly, Sir, a fine deal, considering there's no Parliament.

Sir _Tim_. What Lords have we, _Jervice_?

_Jer_. Lords, Sir, truly none.

Sir _Tim_. None! what, ne'er a Lord! some mishap will befall me, some
dire mischance! Ne'er a Lord! ominous, ominous! our Party dwindles daily.
What, nor Earl, nor Marquess, nor Duke, nor ne'er a Lord! Hum, my Wine
will lie most villanously upon my Hands to Night. _Jervice_, what, have
we store of Knights and Gentlemen?

_Jer_. I know not what Gentlemen there be, Sir; but there are Knights,
Citizens, their Wives and Daughters.

Sir _Tim_. Make us thankful for that; our Meat will not lie upon our
Hands then, _Jervice_: I'll say that for our little Londoners, they are
as tall Fellows at a well-charg'd Board as any in Christendom.

_Jer_. Then, Sir, there's Nonconformist-Parsons.

Sir _Tim_. Nay, then we shall have a clear Board; for your true
Protestant Appetite in a Lay-Elder, does a Man's Table Credit.

_Jer_. Then, Sir, there's Country Justices and Grand-Jury-Men.

Sir _Tim_. Well enough, well enough, _Jervice_.

_Enter Mrs_. Sensure.

_Sen_. An't like your Worship, Mr. _Wilding_ is come in with a Lady
richly drest in Jewels, mask'd, in his Hand, and will not be deny'd
speaking with your Worship.

Sir _Tim_. Hah, rich in Jewels! this must be she. My Sword again,
_Jervice_.--Bring 'em up, _Sensure_.--Prithee how do I look to Night,
_Jervice_?
[_Setting himself_.

_Jer_. Oh, most methodically, Sir.

_Enter_ Wild, _with_ Diana, _and_ Betty.

_Wild_. Sir, I have brought into your kind protection the richest Jewel
all London can afford, fair Mrs. _Charlot Gett-all_.

Sir _Tim_. Bless us, she's ravishing fair! Lady, I had the honour of
being intimate with your worthy Father. I think he has been dead--

_Dia_. If he catechize me much on that point, I shall spoil all.
[_Aside_.
Alas, Sir, name him not; for if you do,
[_weeping_.
I'm sure I cannot answer you one Question.

_Wild_. For Heaven sake, Sir, name not her Father to her; the bare
remembrance of him kills her. [_Aside to him_.

Sir _Tim_. Alas, poor Soul! Lady, I beg your Pardon. How soft-hearted she
is! I am in love; I find already a kind of tickling of I know not what,
run frisking through my Veins. [_Aside_.

_Bet_. Ay, Sir, the good Alderman has been dead this twelve-month just,
and has left his Daughter here, my Mistress, three thousand Pound a Year.
[_Weeping_.

Sir _Tim_. Three thousand Pound a Year! Yes, yes, I am in love.
[_Aside_.

_Bet_. Besides Money, Plate, and Jewels.

Sir _Tim_. I'll marry her out of hand, [_Aside_.] Alas, I cou'd even
weep too; but 'tis in vain. Well, Nephew, you may be gone now; for 'tis
not necessary you shou'd be seen here, d'ye see.
[_Pushing him out_.

_Wild_. You see, Sir, now, what Heaven has done for me; and you have
often told me, Sir, when that was kind you wou'd be so. Those Writings,
Sir, by which you were so good to make me Heir to all your Estate, you
said you wou'd put into my possession, whene'er I made it appear to you I
could live without 'em, or bring you a Wife of Fortune home.

Sir _Tim_. And I will keep my word; 'tis time enough.
[_Putting him out_.

_Wild_. I have, 'tis true, been wicked; but I shall now turn from my evil
ways, establish my self in the religious City, and enter into the
Association. There want but these same Writings, Sir, and your good
Character of me.

Sir _Tim_. Thou shalt have both, all in good time, Man: Go, go thy ways,
and I'll warrant thee for a good Character, go.

_Wild_. Ay, Sir, but the Writings, because I told her, Sir, I was your
Heir; nay, forc'd to swear too, before she wou'd believe me.

Sir _Tim_. Alas, alas! how shreudly thou wert put to't!

_Wild_. I told her too, you'd buy a Patent for me; for nothing woos a
City-Fortune like the hopes of a Ladyship.

Sir _Tim_. I'm glad of that; that I can settle on her presently.
[_Aside_.

_Wild_. You may please to hint something to her of my godly Life and
Conversation; that I frequent Conventicles, and am drunk no where but at
your true Protestant Consults and Clubs, and the like.

Sir _Tim_. Nay, if these will please her, I have her for certain.
[_Aside_.
Go, go, fear not my good word.

_Wild_. But the Writings, Sir--

Sir _Tim_. Am I a Jew, a Turk? Thou shalt have any thing, now I find thee
a Lad of Parts, and one that can provide so well for thy Uncle.
[_Aside_.
[_Puts him out, and addresses himself to the Lady_.

_Wild_. Wou'd they were hang'd that trust you, that have but the art of
Legerdemain, and can open the Japan-Cabinet in your Bed-chamber, where I
know those Writings are kept. Death, what a disappointment's here! I
wou'd ha' sworn this Sham had past upon him. [_Aside_.] But, Sir, shall
I not have the Writings now?

Sir _Tim_. What, not gone yet! for shame, away; canst thou distrust thy
own natural Uncle? Fie, away, _Tom_, away.

_Wild_. A Plague upon your damn'd Dissimulation, that never failing Badge
of all your Party, there's always mischief at the bottom on't; I know ye
all; and Fortune be the Word. When next I see you, Uncle, it shall cost
you dearer.
[_Exit_.

_Enter_ Jervice.

_Jer_. An't please your Worship, Supper's almost over, and you are askt
for.

Sir _Tim_. They know I never sup; I shall come time enough to bid 'em
welcome.
[_Exit_ Jer.

_Dia_. I keep you, Sir, from Supper, and better Company.

Sir _Tim_. Lady, Were I a Glutton, I cou'd be satisfy'd
With feeding on those two bright starry Eyes.

_Dia_. You are a Courtier, Sir; we City-Maids do seldom hear such
Language; in which you shew your kindness to your Nephew, more than your
thoughts of what my
Beauty merits.

Sir _Tim_. Lord, Lord, how innocent she is! [_Aside_.] My Nephew,
Madam? yes, yes, I cannot chuse but be wondrous kind upon his score.

_Dia_. Nay, he has often told me, you were the best of Uncles, and he
deserves your goodness, so hopeful a young Gentleman.

Sir _Tim_. Wou'd I cou'd see't. [_Aside_.

_Dia_. So modest.

Sir _Tim_. Yes, ask my Maids. [_Aside_.

_Dia_. So civil.

Sir _Tim_. Yes, to my Neighbours Wives. [_Aside_.] But so, Madam, I
find by this high Commendation of my Nephew, your Ladyship has a very
slender opinion of your devoted Servant the while: or else, Madam, with
this not disagreeable Face and Shape of mine, six thousand Pound a year,
and other Virtues and Commodities that shall be nameless, I see no reason
why I shou'd not beget an Heir of my own Body, had I the helping hand of
a certain victorious Person in the World, that shall be nameless.
[_Bowing and smirking_.

_Dia_. Meaning me, I am sure; if I shou'd marry him now, and disappoint
my dear Inconstant with an Heir of his own begetting, 'twou'd be a most
wicked Revenge for past Kindnesses. [_Aside_.

Sir _Tim_. I know your Ladyship is studying now who this victorious
Person shou'd be, whom I dare not name: but let it suffice, she is,
Madam, within a Mile of an Oak.

_Dia_. No, Sir, I was considering, if what you say be true, How
unadvisedly I have lov'd your Nephew, Who swore to me he was to be your
Heir.

Sir _Tim_. My Heir, Madam! am I so visibly old to be so desperate?
No, I'm in my years of desires and discretion,
And I have thoughts, durst I but utter 'em;
But modestly say, Mum--

_Dia_. I took him for the hopefullest Gentleman--

Sir _Tim_. Let him hope on, so will I; and yet, Madam, in consideration
of your Love to him, and because he is my Nephew, young, handsome, witty,
and so forth, I am content to be so much a Parent to him, as if Heaven
please,--to see him fairly hang'd.

_Dia_. How, Sir! [_In amaze_.

Sir _Tim_. He has deserv'd it, Madam: First, for lampooning the Reverend
City with its noble Government, with the Right Honourable Gown-men;
libelling some for Feasting, and some for Fasting, some for Cuckolds, and
some for Cuckold-makers; charging us with all the seven deadly Sins, the
Sins of our Fore-fathers, adding seven score more to the number; the Sins
of Forty-One reviv'd again in Eighty-One, with Additions and Amendments;
for which, though the Writings were drawn, by which I made him my whole
Executor, I will disinherit him. Secondly, Madam, he deserves hanging for
seducing, and most feloniously bearing away a young City-Heiress.

_Dia_. Undone, undone! Oh, with what Face can I return again!
What Man of Wealth or Reputation, now
Will think me worth the owning!
[_Feigns to weep_.

Sir _Tim_. Yes, yes, Madam, there are honest, discreet, religious, and
true Protestant Knights in the City, that wou'd be proud to dignify and
distinguish so worthy a Gentlewoman.
[Bowing and smiling.

_Bet_. Look to your hits, and take fortune by the forelock, Madam.
[_Aside_.
--Alas, Madam, no Knight, and poor too!

Sir _Tim_. As a Tory Poet.

_Bet_. Well, Madam, take Comfort; if the worst come to the worst, you
have Estate enough for both.

_Dia_. Ay, Betty, were he but honest, Betty.
[_Weeping_.

Sir _Tim_. Honest! I think he will not steal; but for his Body, the Lord
have mercy upon't, for he has none.

_Dia_. 'Tis evident, I am betray'd, abus'd;
H'as lookt and sigh'd, and talkt away my Heart;
H'as sworn, and vow'd, and flatter'd me to ruin.
[_Weeping_.

Sir _Tim_. A small fault with him; he has flatter'd and
sworn me out of many a fair Thousand: why, he has no
more Conscience than a Politician, nor no more Truth
than a Narrative (under the Rose).

_Dia_. Is there no Truth nor Honesty i'th' World?

Sir _Tim_. Troth, very little, and that lies all i'th' City amongst us
sober Magistrates.

_Dia_. Were I a Man, how wou'd I be reveng'd!

Sir _Tim_. Your Ladyship might do it better as you are
were I worthy to advise you.

_Dia_. Name it.

Sir _Tim_. Why, by marrying your Ladyship's most assur'd Friend, and most
humble Servant, _Timothy Treat-all_ of London, Alderman.
[_Bowing_.

_Bet_. Ay, this is something, Mistress; here's Reason.

_Dia_. But I have given my Faith and Troth to _Wilding, Betty_.

Sir _Tim_. Faith and Troth! We stand upon neither Faith nor Troth in the
City, Lady. I have known an Heiress married and bedded, and yet with the
Advice of the wiser Magistrates, has been unmarried and consummated anew
with another, so it stands with our Interest: 'tis Law by Magna Charta.
Nay, had you married my ungracious Nephew, we might by this our Magna
Charta have hang'd him for a Rape.

_Dia_. What, though he had my Consent?

Sir _Tim_. That's nothing, he had not ours.

_Dia_. Then shou'd I marry you by stealth, the Danger wou'd be the same.

Sir _Tim_. No, no, Madam, we never accuse one another; 'tis the poor
Rogues, the Tory Rascals we always hang. Let 'em accuse me if they
please; alas, I come off hand-smooth with Ignoramus.

_Enter_ Jervice.

_Jer_. Sir, there's such a calling for your Worship! They are all very
merry, the Glasses go briskly about.

Sir _Tim_. Go, go, I'll come when all the Healths are past; I love no
Healths.

_Jer_. They are all over, Sir, and the Ladies are for dancing; so they
are all adjourning from the Dining-room hither, as more commodious for
that Exercise. I
think they're coming, Sir.

Sir _Tim_. Hah, coming! Call _Sensure_ to wait on the Lady to her
Apartment.--

[_Enter_ Sensure.]

And, Madam, I do most heartily recommend my most humble Address to your
most judicious Consideration, hoping you will most vigorously, and with
all your might, maintain the Rights and Privileges of the Honourable
City; and not suffer the Force or Persuasion of any Arbitrary Lover
whatsoever, to subvert their antient and Fundamental Laws, by seducing
and forcibly bearing away so rich and so illustrious a Lady: and, Madam,
we will unanimously stand by you with our Lives and Fortunes.--This I
learnt from a Speech at the Election of a Burgess. [_Aside_.

[_Leads her to the Door; She goes out with_ Betty _and_ Sensure.
_Enter Musick playing, Sir_ Anthony Meriwill _dancing
with a Lady in his Hand, Sir_ Charles with Lady_
Galliard, _several other Women and Men_.

Sir _Anth_. [_singing_.]

Philander _was a jolly Swain,
And lov'd by ev'ry Lass;
Whom when he met along the Plain,
He laid upon the Grass.

And here he kist, and there he play'd
With this and then the t'other,
Till every wanton smiling Maid
At last became a Mother.

And to her Swain, and to her Swain,
The Nymph begins to yield;
Ruffle, and breathe, then to't again,
Thou'rt Master of the Field_.

[Clapping Sir _Char_, on the back.

Sir _Char_. And if I keep it not, say I'm a Coward, Uncle.

Sir _Anth_. More Wine there, Boys, I'll keep the Humour up.
[_Enter Bottles and Glasses_.

Sir _Tim_. How! young Meriwill so close to the Widow--Madam--
[_Addressing himself to her. Sir_ Char. _puts him by_.

Sir _Char_. Sir Timothy, why, what a Pox dost thou bring that damn'd
Puritanical, Schismatical, Fanatical, Small-beer-Face of thine into good
Company? Give him a full Glass to the Widow's Health.

Sir _Tim_. O lack, Sir _Charles_, no Healths for me, I pray.

Sir _Char_. Hark ye, leave that cozening, canting, sanctify'd Sneer of
yours, and drink ye me like a sober loyal Magistrate, all those Healths
you are behind, from his sacred Majesty, whom God long preserve, with the
rest of the Royal Family, even down to this wicked Widow, whom Heaven
soon convert from her leud designs upon my Body.
[_Pulling Sir_ Tim. _to kneel_.

Sir _Anth_. A rare Boy! he shall have all my Estate.

Sir _Tim_. How, the Widow a leud design upon his Body! Nay, then I am
jealous. [_Aside_.

L. _Gal_. I a leud design upon your Body; for what, I wonder?

Sir _Char_. Why, for villanous Matrimony.

L. _Gal_. Who, I?

Sir _Char_. Who, you! yes, you.
Why are those Eyes drest in inviting Love?
Those soft bewitching Smiles, those rising Breasts,
And all those Charms that make you so adorable,
Is't not to draw Fools into Matrimony?

Sir _Anth_. How's that, how's that! _Charles_ at his Adorables and
Charms! He must have t'other Health, he'll fall to his old Dog-trot again
else. Come, come, every man his Glass; Sir Timothy, you are six behind:
Come, come, _Charles_, name 'em all.

[_Each take a Glass, and force Sir_ Tim. _on his knees_.

Sir _Char_.--Not bate ye an Ace, Sir. Come, his Majesty's Health, and
Confusion to his Enemies.
[_They go to force his Mouth open to drink_.

Sir _Tim_. Hold, Sir, hold, if I must drink, I must; but this is very
arbitrary, methinks.
[_Drinks_.

Sir _Anth_. And now, Sir, to the Royal Duke of Albany. Musick, play a
Scotch Jig.
[_Music plays, they drink_.

Sir _Tim_. This is mere Tyranny.

_Enter_ Jervice.

_Jer_. Sir, there is alighted at the Gate a Person of Quality, as appears
by his Train, who give him the Title of a Lord.

Sir _Tim_. How, a strange Lord! Conduct him up with Ceremony, _Jervice_--
'Ods so, he's here!

_Enter_ Wilding _in disguise_, Dresswell, _and Footmen and Pages_.

_Wild_. Sir, by your Reverend Aspect, you shou'd be the renown'd Mester
de Hotel.

Sir _Tim_. Mater de Otell! I have not the Honour to know any of that
Name, I am call'd Sir _Timothy Treat-all_.
[_Bowing_.

_Wild_. The same, Sir; I have been bred abroad, and thought all Persons
of Quality had spoke French.

Sir _Tim_. Not City Persons of Quality, my Lord.

_Wild_. I'm glad on't, Sir; for 'tis a Nation I hate, as indeed I do all
Monarchies.

Sir _Tim_. Hum! hate Monarchy! Your Lordship is most welcome.
[_Bows_.

_Wild_. Unless Elective Monarchies, which so resemble a Commonwealth.

Sir _Tim_. Right, my Lord; where every Man may hope to take his turn--
Your Lordship is most singularly welcome.
[_Bows low_.

_Wild_. And though I am a Stranger to your Person, I am not to your Fame,
amongst the sober Party of the Amsterdamians, all the French Hugonots
throughout Geneva; even to Hungary and Poland, Fame's Trumpet sounds your
Praise, making the Pope to fear, the rest admire you.

Sir _Anth_. I'm much oblig'd to the renowned Mobile.

_Wild_. So you will say, when you shall hear my Embassy. The Polanders by
me salute you, Sir, and have in this next new Election prick'd ye down
for their succeeding King.

Sir _Tim_. How, my Lord, prick'd me down for a King! Why, this is
wonderful! Prick'd me, unworthy me down for a King! How cou'd I merit
this amazing Glory!

_Wild_. They know, he that can be so great a Patriot to his Native
Country, where but a private Person, what must he be when Power is on his
side?

Sir _Tim_. Ay, my Lord, my Country, my bleeding Country! there's the stop
to all my rising Greatness. Shall I be so ungrateful to disappoint this
big expecting Nation? defeat the sober Party, and my Neighbours, for any
Polish Crown? But yet, my Lord, I will consider on't: Mean time my House
is yours.

_Wild_. I've brought you, Sir, the Measure of the Crown:
Ha, it fits you to a Hair.
[_Pulls out a Ribband, measures his Head_.
You were by Heav'n and Nature fram'd that Monarch.

Sir _Anth_. Hah, at it again!
[_Sir_ Charles _making sober Love_.
Come, we grow dull, _Charles_; where stands the Glass?
What, balk my Lady _Galliard's_ Health!
[_They go to drink_.

_Wild_. Hah, _Galliard_--and so sweet on Meriwill! [_Aside_.

L. _Gal_. If it be your business, Sir, to drink, I'll withdraw.

Sir _Char_. Gad, and I'll withdraw with you, Widow. Hark ye, Lady
_Galliard_, I am damnably afraid you cannot bear Liquor well, you are so
forward to leave good Company and a Bottle.

Sir _Tim_. Well, Gentlemen, since I have done what I never do, to oblige
you, I hope you will not refuse a Health of my Denomination.

Sir _Anth_. We scorn to be so uncivil.
[_All take the Glasses_.

Sir _Tim_. Why then here's a conceal'd Health that shall be nameless, to
his Grace the King of Poland.

Sir _Char_. King of Poland! Lord, Lord, how your Thoughts ramble!

Sir _Tim_. Not so far as you imagine; I know what I say, Sir.

Sir _Char_. Away with it. [_Drink all_.

_Wild_. I see, Sir, you still keep up that English Hospitality that so
renowned our Ancestors in History.
[_Looking on L_. Gal.

Sir _Tim_. Ay, my Lord, my noble Guests are my Wife and Children.

_Wild_. Are you not married, then? Death, she smiles on him.
[_Aside_.

Sir _Tim_. I had a Wife, but rest her Soul, she's dead; and I have no
Plague left now but an ungracious Nephew, perverted with ill Customs,
Tantivy Opinions, and Court-Notions.

_Wild_. Cannot your pious Examples convert him? By Heaven, she's fond of
him! [_Aside_.

Sir _Tim_. Alas, I have try'd all ways, fair and foul; nay, had settled
t'other Day my whole Estate upon him, and just as I had sign'd the
Writings, out comes me a damn'd Libel, call'd, A Warning to all good
Christians against the City-Magistrates; and I doubt he had a Hand in
Absalom and Achitophel, a Rogue. But some of our sober Party have claw'd
him home, i' faith, and given him Rhyme for his Reason.

_Wild_. Most visibly in Love! Oh, Sir, Nature, Laws, and Religion plead
for so near a Kinsman.

Sir _Tim_. Laws and Religion! Alas, my Lord, he deserves not the Name of
a Patriot, who does not for the publick Good, defy all Laws and Religion.

_Wild_. Death, I must interrupt 'em--Sir, pray what Lady's that.
[Wild, salutes her.

Sir _Tim_. I beseech your Lordship know her, 'tis my Lady _Galliard_; the
rest are all my Friends and Neighbours, true Protestants all--Well, my
Lord, how do you like my Method of doing the business of the Nation, and
carrying on the Cause with Wine, Women, and so forth?

_Wild_. High Feeding and smart Drinking, gains more to the Party, than
your smart Preaching.

Sir _Tim_. Your Lordship has hit it right: a rare Man this!

_Wild_. But come, Sir, leave serious Affairs, and oblige these fair ones.

[_Addresses himself to_ Galliard, _Sir_ Charles _puts him by.
Enter_ Charlot _disguised_, Clacket _and_ Foppington.

Sir _Char_. Heavens, Clacket, yonder's my False one, and that my
lovely Rival.
[_Pointing to_ Wild, _and L_. Gal.

_Enter_ Diana _and_ Sensure _masked, and_ Betty.

_Dia_. Dear Mrs. _Sensure_, this Favour has oblig'd me.

_Sen_. I hope you'll not discover it to his Worship, Madam.

_Wild_. By her Mien, this shou'd be handsome--
[_Goes to_ Diana.]
Madam, I hope you have not made a Resolution to deny me the Honour of
your Hand.

_Dia_. Ha, _Wilding_! Love can discover thee through all Disguise.

_Wild_. Hah, _Diana_! wou'd 'twere Felony to wear a Vizard. Gad, I'd
rather meet it on the King's Highway, with Stand and Deliver, than thus
encounter it on the Face of an old Mistress; and the Cheat were more
excusable--But how--
[_Talks aside with her_.

Sir _Char_. Nay, never frown nor chide: For thus do I intend to shew my
Authority, till I have made thee only fit for me.

_Wild_. Is't so, my precious Uncle? Are you so great a Devil in
Hypocrisy? Thus had I been serv'd, had I brought him the right Woman.
[_Aside_.

_Dia_. But do not think, dear _Tommy_, I wou'd have serv'd thee so;
married thy Uncle, and have cozen'd thee of thy Birth-right--But see,
we're observ'd.

[Charlot _listening behind him all this while_.

_Char_. By all that's good 'tis he! that Voice is his!
[_He going from_ Dian. _turns upon_ Charlot, _and looks_.

_Wild_. Hah, what pretty Creature's this, that has so much of _Charlot_
in her Face? But sure she durst not venture; 'tis not her Dress nor Mien.
Dear pretty Stranger, I must dance with you.

_Char_. Gued deed, and see ye shall, Sir, gen you please. Though I's not
dance, Sir, I's tell ya that noo.

_Wild_. Nor I, so we're well matcht. By Heaven, she's wondrous like her.

_Char_. By th' Mass not so kind, Sir: 'Twere gued that ene of us shou'd
dance to guid the other weel.

_Wild_. How young, how innocent and free she is! And wou'd you, fair one,
be guided by me?

_Char_. In any thing that gued is.

_Wild_. I love you extremely, and wou'd teach you to love.

_Char_. Ah, wele aday! [_Sighs and smiles_.

_Wild_. A thing I know you do not understand.

_Char_. Gued faith, and ya're i'th' right, Sir; yet 'tis a thing I's
often hear ya gay men talk of.

_Wild_. Yes, and no doubt have been told those pretty Eyes inspired it.

_Char_. Gued deed, and so I have! Ya men make sa mickle ado about ens
Eyes, ways me, I's ene tir'd with sick-like Complements.

_Wild_. Ah, if you give us wounds, we must complain.

_Char_. Ye may ene keep out a harms way then.

_Wild_. Oh, we cannot; or if we cou'd, we wou'd not.

_Char_. Marry, and I's have ene a Song tol that tune, Sir.

_Wild_. Dear Creature, let me beg it.

_Char_. Gued faith, ya shall not, Sir, I's sing without entreaty.

SONG.

_Ah, Jenny, gen your Eyes do kill,
You'll let me tell my Pain;
Gued Faith, I lov'd against my Will,
But wad not break my Chain.
I ence was call'd a bonny Lad,
Till that fair Face of yours
Betray'd the Freedom ence I had,
And ad my bleether Howers.

But noo ways me like Winter looks,
My gloomy showering Eyne,
And on the Banks of shaded Brooks
I pass my wearied time.
I call the Stream that gleedeth on,
To witness if it see,
On all the flowry Brink along,
A Swain so true as lee_.

_Wild_. This very Swain am I, so true and so forlorn, unless ye pity
me.--This is an excellency _Charlot_ wants, at least I never heard
her sing. [_Aside_.

Sir _Anth_. Why, _Charles_, where stands the Woman, _Charles_?
[Fop. _comes up to_ Charlot.

_Wild_. I must speak to _Galliard_, though all my Fortunes depend on the
Discovery of my self. [_Aside_.

Sir _Anth_. Come, come, a cooling Glass about.

_Wild_. Dear _Dresswell_, entertain _Charles Meriwill_ a little, whilst I
speak to _Galliard_.
[_The Men go all to the drinking Table_.
By Heaven, I die, I languish for a Word!
--Madam, I hope you have not made a Vow
To speak with none but that young Cavalier.
They say, the Freedom English Ladies use,
Is, as their Beauty, great.

L. _Gal_. Sir, we are none of those of so nice and delicate a Virtue, as
Conversation can corrupt; we live in a cold Climate.

_Wild_. And think you're not so apt to be in Love,
As where the Sun shines oftner.
But you too much partake of the Inconstancy of this your fickle Climate.
[_Maliciously to her_.
One day all Sun-shine, and th' encourag'd Lover
Decks himself up in glittering Robes of Hope;
And in the midst of all their boasted Finery
Comes a dark Cloud across his Mistress' Brow,
Dashes the Fool, and spoils the gaudy Show.
[L. Gal. _observing him nearly_.

L. _Gal_. Hah, do I not know that railing Tongue of yours?

_Wild_. 'Tis from your Guilt, not Judgment then.
I was resolv'd to be to night a Witness
Of that sworn Love you flatter'd me so often with.
By Heaven, I saw you playing with my Rival,
Sigh'd, and lookt Babies in his gloating Eyes.
When is the Assignation? When the Hours?
For he's impatient as the raging Sea,
Loose as the Winds, and amorous as the Sun,
That kisses all the Beauties of the Spring.

L. _Gal_. I take him for a sober Person, Sir.

_Wild_. Have I been the Companion of his Riots
In all the leud course of our early Youth,
Where like unwearied Bees we gather'd Flowers?
But no kind Blossom could oblige our stay,
We rifled and were gone.

L. _Gal_. Your Virtues I perceive are pretty equal;
Only his Love's the honester o'th' two.

_Wild_. Honester! that is, he wou'd owe his good Fortune
to the Parson of the Parish;
And I would be oblig'd to you alone.
He wou'd have a Licence to boast he lies with you,
And I wou'd do't with Modesty and Silence:
For Virtue's but a Name kept free from Scandal,
Which the most base of Women best preserve,
Since Jilting and Hypocrisy cheat the World best.
--But we both love, and who shall blab the Secret?
[_In a soft Tone_.

L. _Gal_. Oh, why were all the Charms of speaking given
To that false Tongue that makes no better use of 'em?
--I'll hear no more of your inchanting Reasons.

_Wild_. You must.

L. _Gal_. I will not.

_Wild_. Indeed you must.

L. _Gal_. By all the Powers above--

_Wild_. By all the Powers of Love you'll break your Oath,
Unless you swear this Night to let me see you.

L. _Gal_. This Night.

_Wild_. This very Night.

L. _Gal_. I'd die first--At what Hour?

[_First turns away, then sighs and looks on him_.

_Wild_. Oh, name it; and if I fail--
[_With Joy_.

L. _Gal_. I wou'd not for the World--

_Wild_. That I shou'd fail!

L. _Gal_. Not name the guilty Hour.

_Wild_. Then I through eager haste shall come too soon,
And do your Honour wrong.

L. _Gal_. My Honour! Oh, that Word!

_Wild_. Which the Devil was in me for naming. [_Aside_.
--At Twelve.

L. _Gal_. My Women and my Servants then are up.

_Wild_. At One, or Two.

L. _Gal_. So late! 'twill be so quickly Day!

_Wild_. Ay, so it will;
That half our Business will be left unfinisht.

L. _Gal_. Hah, what do you mean? what Business?

_Wild_. A thousand tender things I have to say;
A thousand Vows of my eternal Love;
And now and then we'll kiss and--

L. _Gal_. Be extremely honest.

_Wild_. As you can wish.

L. _Gal_. Rather as I command: for should he know my wish, I were undone.
[_Aside_.

_Wild_. The Sign--

L. _Gal_. Oh, press me not--yet you may come at Midnight under my
Chamber-Window.

[_Sir_ Char. _sees 'em so close, comes to 'em_.

Sir _Char_. Hold, Sir, hold! Whilst I am listning to the Relation of your
French Fortifications, Outworks, and Counterscarps, I perceive the Enemy
in my Quarters--My Lord, by your leave.
[_Puts him by, growing drunk_.

_Char_. Persuade me not; I burst with Jealousy.
[Wild. _turns, sees_ Clacket.

_Wild_. Death and the Devil, Clacket! then 'tis _Charlot_, and I'm
discover'd to her.

_Char_. Say, are you not a false dissembling thing?
[_To_ Wild. _in anger_.

_Wild_. What, my little Northern Lass translated into English!
This 'tis to practise Art in spite of Nature.
Alas, thy Vertue, Youth, and Innocence,
Were never made for Cunning,
I found ye out through all your forc'd disguise.

_Char_. Hah, did you know me then?

_Wild_. At the first glance, and found you knew me too,
And talkt to yonder Lady in revenge,
Whom my Uncle would have me marry. But to avoid
all Discourses of that nature, I came to Night in this
Disguise you see, to be conceal'd from her; that's all.

_Char_. And is that all, on Honour? Is it, Dear?

_Wild_. What, no Belief, no Faith in villanous Women?

_Char_. Yes, when I see the Writings.

_Wild_. Go home, I die if you shou'd be discover'd:
And credit me, I'll bring you all you ask.
Clacket, you and I must have an old Reckoning about
this Night's Jant of yours. [Aside to Clacket.

Sir _Tim_. Well, my Lord, how do you like our English Beauties?

_Wild_. Extremely, Sir; and was pressing this young Lady to give us a
Song.

[_Here is an Italian Song in two Parts_.

Sir _Tim_. I never saw this Lady before: pray who may she be, Neighbour?
[_To_ Clacket.

Mrs. _Clack_. A Niece of mine, newly come out of Scotland, Sir.

Sir _Tim_. Nay, then she dances by nature. Gentlemen and Ladies, please
you to sit, here's a young Neighbour of mine will honour us with a Dance.
[_They all sit_; Charl. _and_ Fop. _dance_.
So, so; very well, very well. Gentlemen and Ladies, I am for Liberty of
Conscience, and Moderation. There's a Banquet waits the Ladies, and my
Cellars are open to the Men; but for my self, I must retire; first
waiting on your Lordship to shew you your Apartment, then leave you to
_cher entire_: and to morrow, my Lord, you and I will settle the Nation,
and will resolve on what return we will make to the noble Polanders.

[_Exeunt all but_ Wild. Dres. _and_ Fop. _Sir_ Charles
_leading out Lady_ Galliard.

Sir _Anth_. Well said, _Charles_, thou leav'st her not till she's thy
own, Boy--And Philander was a jolly Swain, &c.
[_Exit singing_.

_Wild_. All things succeed above my Wish, dear _Frank_,
Fortune is kind; and more, _Galliard_ is so;
This night crowns all my Wishes.
Laboir, are all things ready for our purpose? [_To his Footman_.

_Lab_. Dark Lanthorns, Pistols, Habits and Vizards, Sir.

_Fop_. I have provided Portmantles to carry off the Treasure.

_Dres_. I perceive you are resolv'd to make a thorow-stitcht Robbery
on't.

_Fop_. Faith, if it lie in our way, Sir, we had as good venture a Caper
under the Triple-Tree for one as well as t'other.

_Wild_. We must consider on't. 'Tis now just struck eleven; within this
Hour is the dear Assignation with _Galliard_.

_Dres_. What, whether our Affairs be finish'd or not?

_Wild_. 'Tis but at next Door; I shall return time enough for that
trivial Business.

_Dres_. A trivial Business of some six thousand pound a year?

_Wild_. Trivial to a Woman, _Frank_: no more; do you make as if you went
to bed.--Laboir, do you feign to be drunk, and lie on the Hall-table: and
when I give the sign, let me softly in.

_Dres_. Death, Sir, will you venture at such a time?

_Wild_. My Life and future Hope--I am resolv'd.
Let Politicians plot, let Rogues go on
In the old beaten Path of Forty one;
Let City Knaves delight in Mutiny,
The Rabble bow to old Presbytery;
Let petty States be to confusion hurl'd,
Give me but Woman, I'll despise the World.

[_Exeunt_.

ACT IV.

SCENE I. _A Dressing-Room_.

_Lady_ Galliard _is discover'd in an undress at her Table, Glass
and Toilette_, Closet _attending: As soon as the Scene draws off
she rises from the Table as disturbed and out of Humour_.

L. _Gal_. Come, leave your everlasting Chamber-maid's Chat, your dull
Road of Slandering by rote, and lay that Paint aside. Thou art fuller of
false News, than an unlicens'd Mercury.

_Clos_. I have good Proof, Madam, of what I say.

L. _Gal_. Proof of a thing impossible!--Away.

_Clos_. Is it a thing so impossible, Madam, that a Man of Mr. _Wilding's_
Parts and Person should get a City-Heiress? Such a bonne Mien, and such a
pleasant Wit!

L. _Gal_. Hold thy fluent Tattle, thou hast Tongue
Enough to talk an Oyster-Woman deaf:
I say it cannot be.
--What means the panting of my troubled Heart!
Oh, my presaging Fears! shou'd what she says prove true,
How wretched and how lost a thing am I! [_Aside_.

_Clos_. Your Honour may say your Pleasure; but I hope
I have not liv'd to these Years to be impertinent--No,
Madam, I am none of those that run up and down the
Town a Story-hunting, and a Lye-catching, and--

L. _Gal_. Eternal Rattle, peace--
Mrs. _Charlot Gett-all_ go away with _Wilding_!
A Man of _Wilding's_ extravagant Life
Get a Fortune in the City!
Thou mightst as well have told me, a Holder-forth were married to a Nun:
There are not two such Contraries in Nature,
'Tis flam, 'tis foolery, 'tis most impossible.

_Clos_. I beg your Ladyship's Pardon, if my Discourse offend you; but all
the World knows Mrs. Clacket to be a person--

L. _Gal_. Who is a most devout Baud, a precise Procurer;
A Saint in the Spirit, and Whore in the Flesh;
A Doer of the Devil's Work in God's Name.
Is she your Informer? nay, then the Lye's undoubted--
I say once more, adone with your idle Tittle-Tattle,
--And to divert me, bid Betty sing the Song which _Wilding_ made
To his last Mistress; we may judge by that,
What little Haunts, and what low Game he follows.
This is not like the Description of a rich Citizen's Daughter
and Heir, but some common Hackney of the Suburbs.

_Clos_. I have heard him often swear she was a Gentlewoman, and liv'd
with her Friends.

L. _Gal_. Like enough, there are many of these Gentlewomen who live with
their Friends, as rank Prostitutes, as errant Jilts, as those who make
open profession of the Trade--almost as mercenary--But come, the Song.

[_Enter_ Betty.

SONG.

_In Phillis all vile Jilts are met,
Foolish, uncertain, false, Coquette.
Love is her constant welcome Guest,
And still the newest pleases best.
Quickly she likes, then leaves as soon;
Her Life on Woman's a Lampoon.

Yet for the Plague of human Race,
This Devil has an Angel's Face;
Such Youth, such Sweetness in her Look,
Who can be Man, and not be took?
What former Love, what Wit, what Art,
Can save a poor inclining Heart?

In vain a thousand Times an hour
Reason rebels against her Power.
In vain I rail, I curse her charms;
One Look my feeble Rage disarms.
There is Inchantment in her Eyes;
Who sees 'em, can no more be wise_.

_Enter_ Wilding, _who runs to embrace L_. Gal.

_Wild_. Twelve was the lucky Minute when we met:
Most charming of your Sex, and wisest of all Widows,
My Life, my Soul, my Heaven to come, and here!
Now I have liv'd to purpose, since at last--Oh, killing Joy!
Come, let me fold you, press you in my Arms,
And kiss you Thanks for this dear happy Night.

L. _Gal_. You may spare your Thanks, Sir, for those that will deserve
'em; I shall give you no occasion for 'em.

_Wild_. Nay, no scruples now, dearest of Dears, no more,
'Tis most unseasonable--
I bring a Heart full fraight with eager Hopes,
Opprest with a vast Load of longing Love;
Let me unlade me in that soft white Bosom,
That Storehouse of rich Joys and lasting Pleasures,
And lay me down as on a Bed of Lillies.
[_She breaks from him_.

L. _Gal_. You're wondrous full of Love and Rapture, Sir; but certainly
you mistake the Person you address 'em to.

_Wild_. Why, are you not my Lady _Galliard_, that very Lady _Galliard_,
who, if one may take her Word for't, loves _Wilding_? Am I not come
hither by your own Appointment; and can I have any other Business here at
this time of night, but Love, and Rapture, and--

L. _Gal_. Scandalous and vain! by my Appointment, and for so leud a
purpose; guard me, ye good Angels. If after an Affront so gross as this,
I ever suffer you to see me more, Then think me what your Carriage calls
me, An impudent, an open Prostitute, Lost to all sense of Virtue, or of
Honour.

_Wild_. What can this mean? [_Aside_.
Oh, now I understand the Mystery.
[_Looking on_ Closet.
Her Woman's here, that troublesome piece of Train.
--I must remove her. Hark ye, Mrs. Closet, I had forgot to tell you, as I
came up I heard a Kinsman of yours very earnest with the Servants below,
and in great haste to speak with you.

_Clos_. A Kinsman! that's very likely indeed, and at this time of night.

_Wild_. Yes, a very near Kinsman, he said he was your Father's own
Mother's Uncle's Sister's Son; what d'ye call him?

_Clos_. Ay, what d'ye call him indeed? I shou'd be glad to hear his Name.
Alas, Sir, I have no near Relation living that I know of, the more's my
Misfortune, poor helpless Orphan that I am.
[_Weeps_.

_Wild_. Nay, but Mrs. Closet, pray take me right,
This Country-man of yours, as I was saying--

L. _Gal_. Chang'd already from a Kinsman to a Countryman! a plain
Contrivance to get my Woman out of the Room. Closet, as you value my
Service, stir not from hence.

_Wild_. This Countryman of yours, I say, being left Executor by your
Father's last Will and Testament, is come--Dull Waiting-woman, I wou'd be
alone with your Lady; know your Cue and retire.

_Clos_. How, Sir!

_Wild_. Learn, I say, to understand Reason when you hear it. Leave us
awhile; Love is not a Game for three to play at.
[_Gives her Mony_.

_Clos_. I must own to all the World, you have convinc'd me; I ask a
thousand Pardons for my Dulness. Well, I'll be gone, I'll run; you're a
most powerful Person, the very Spirit of Persuasion--I'll steal out--You
have such a taking way with you--But I forgot my self. Well, your most
obedient Servant; whenever you've occasion, Sir, be pleas'd to use me
freely.

_Wild_. Nay, dear Impertinence, no more Complements, you see I'm busy
now; prithee be gone, you see I am busy.

_Clos_. I'm all Obedience to you, Sir--Your most obedient--

L. _Gal_. Whither are you fisking and giggiting now?

_Clos_. Madam, I am going down, and will return immediately, immediately.
[_Exit_ Clos.

_Wild_. So, she's gone; Heaven and broad Gold be prais'd for the
Deliverance. And now, dear Widow, let's lose no more precious time; we
have fool'd away too much already.

L. _Gal_. This to me!

_Wild_. To you, yes, to whom else should it be? Unless being sensible you
have not Discretion enough to manage your own Affairs your self, you
resolve like other Widows, with all you're Worth to buy a Governour,
commonly call'd a Husband. I took ye to be wiser; but if that be your
Design I shall do my best to serve you--though to deal freely with you--

L. _Gal_. Trouble not your self, Sir, to make Excuses; I'm not so fond of
the Offer to take you at your Word. Marry you! a Rakeshame, who have not
Esteem enough for the Sex to believe your Mother honest--without Money or
Credit, without Land either in presenter prospect; and half a dozen
hungry Vices, like so many bauling Brats at your Back, perpetually
craving, and more chargeable to keep than twice the number of Children.
Besides, I think you are provided for; are you not married to Mrs.
_Charlot Gett-all_?

_Wild_. Married to her! Do I know her, you shou'd rather ask. What Fool
has forg'd this unlikely Lye? but suppose 'twere true, cou'd you be
jealous of a Woman I marry? Do you take me for such an Ass, to suspect I
shall love my own Wife? On the other side, I have a great Charge of
Vices, as you well observe, and I must not be so barbarous to let 'em
starve. Every body in this Age takes care to provide for their Vices,
though they send their Children a begging; I shou'd be worse than an
Infidel to neglect them. No, I must marry some stiff aukward thing or
other with an ugly Face, and a handsom Estate, that's certain: but
whoever is ordain'd to make my Fortune, 'tis you only can make me happy--
Come, do it then.

L. _Gal_. I never will.

_Wild_. Unkindly said, you must.

L. _Gal_. Unreasonable Man! because you see
I have unusual Regards for you,
Pleasure to hear, and Trouble to deny you;
A fatal yielding in my Nature toward you,
Love bends my Soul that way--
A Weakness I ne'er felt for any other;
And wou'd you be so base? and cou'd you have the Heart
To take th' advantage on't to ruin me,
To make me infamous, despis'd, loath'd, pointed at?

_Wild_. You reason false,
According to the strictest Rules of Honour,
Beauty should still be the Reward of Love,
Not the vile Merchandize of Fortune,
Or the cheap Drug of a Church-Ceremony.
She's only infamous, who to her Bed
For Interest takes some nauseous Clown she hates:
And though a Jointure or a Vow in publick
Be her Price, that makes her but the dearer Whore.

L. _Gal_. I understand not these new Morals.

_Wild_. Have Patience I say, 'tis clear:
All the Desires of mutual Love are virtuous.
Can Heav'n or Man be angry that you please
Your self, and me, when it does wrong to none?
Why rave you then on things that ne'er can be?
Besides, are we not alone, and private? who can know it?

L. _Gal_. Heaven will know't; and I--that, that's enough:
But when you are weary of me, first your Friend,
Then his, then all the World.

_Wild_. Think not that time will ever come.

L. _Gal_. Oh, it must, it will.

_Wild_. Or if it should, could I be such a Villain--
Ah cruel! if you love me as you say,
You wou'd not thus distrust me.

L. _Gal_. You do me wrong, I love you more than e'er my Tongue,
Or all the Actions of my Life can tell you--so well--
Your very Faults, how gross soe'er to me,
Have something pleasing in 'em. To me you're all
That Man can praise, or Woman can desire;
All Charm without, and all Desert within.
But yet my Virtue is more lovely still;
That is a Price too high to pay for you;
The Love of Angels may be bought too dear,
If we bestow on them what's kept for Heaven.

_Wild_. Hell and the Devil! I'll hear no more
Of this religious Stuff, this godly Nonsense.
Death, Madam, do you bring me into your Chamber to preach Virtue to me?

L. _Gal_. I bring you hither! how can you say it?
I suffer'd you indeed to come, but not
For the base end you fancy'd, but to take
A last Leave of you. Let my Heart break with Love,
I cannot be that wretched thing you'd have me;
Believe I still shall have a Kindness for you,
Always your Friend, your Mistress now no more.

_Wild_. Cozen'd, abus'd, she loves some other Man!
Dull Blockhead, not to find it out before! [_Aside_.
--Well, Madam, may I at last believe
This is your fix'd and final Resolution?
And does your Tongue now truly speak your Heart,
That has so long bely'd it?

L. _Gal_. It does.

_Wild_. I'm glad on't. Good Night; and when I visit you again,
May you again thus fool me.
[_Offers to go_.

L. _Gal_. Stay but a Moment.

_Wild_. For what? to praise your Night-dress, or make
Court to your little Dog? No, no, Madam, send for Mr.
Flamfull, and Mr. Flutterbuz, Mr. Lap-fool and Mr.
Loveall; they'll do it better, and are more at leisure.

L. _Gal_. Hear me a little: You know I both despise, and hate those civil
Coxcombs, as much as I esteem and love you. But why will you be gone so
soon? and why are ye so cruel to urge me thus to part either with your
good Opinion or your Kindness? I wou'd fain keep 'em both.
[_In a soft Tone_.

_Wild_. Then keep your Word, Madam.

L. _Gal_. My Word! and have I promis'd then to be
A Whore? A Whore! Oh, let me think of that!
A Man's Convenience, his leisure Hours, his Bed of Ease,
To loll and tumble on at idle times;
The Slave, the Hackney of his lawless Lust!
A loath'd Extinguisher of filthy Flames,
Made use of, and thrown by--Oh, infamous!

_Wild_. Come, come, you love me not, I see it plain;
That makes your Scruples; that, that's the Reason
You start at Words, and turn away from Shadows.
Already some pert Fop, some Ribbon Fool,
Some dancing Coxcomb, has supplanted me
In that unsteady treacherous Woman's Heart of yours.

L. _Gal_. Believe it if you will. Yes, let me be false, unjust,
ungrateful, any thing but a--Whore--

_Wild_. Oh, Sex on purpose form'd to plague Mankind!
All that you are, and all you do's a Lye.
False are your Faces, false your floating Hearts;
False are your Quarrels, false your Reconcilements:
Enemies without Reason, and dear without Kindness;
Your Friendship's false, but much more false your Love;
Your damn'd deceitful Love is all o'er false.

L. _Gal_. False rather are the Joys you are so fond of.
Be wise, and cease, Sir, to pursue 'em farther.

_Wild_. No, them I can never quit, but you most easily:
A Woman changeable and false as you.

L. _Gal_. Said you most easily? Oh, inhuman!
Your cruel Words have wak'd a dismal Thought;
I feel 'em cold and heavy at my Heart,
And Weakness steals upon my Soul apace;
I find I must be miserable--
I wou'd not be thought false.
[_In a soft Tone, coming near him_.

_Wild_. Nor wou'd I think you so; give me not Cause.

L. _Gal_. What Heart can bear distrust from what it loves?
Or who can always her own Wish deny? [_Aside_.
My Reason's weary of the unequal Strife;
And Love and Nature will at last o'ercome.
--Do you not then believe I love you?
[_To him in a soft Tone_.

_Wild_. How can I, while you still remain unkind?

L. _Gal_. How shall I speak my guilty Thoughts?
I have not Power to part with you; conceal my Shame, I doubt
I cannot, I fear I wou'd not any more deny you.

_Wild_. Oh heavenly Sound! Oh charming Creature!
Speak that word again, agen, agen! for ever let me hear it.

L. _Gal_. But did you not indeed? and will you never,
never love Mrs. _Charlot_, never?

_Wild_. Never, never.

_L, Gal_. Turn your Face away, and give me leave
To hide my rising Blushes: I cannot look on you.

[_As this last Speech is speaking, she sinks into his
Arms by degrees_.

But you must undo me if you will--
Since I no other way my Truth can prove,
--You shall see I love.
Pity my Weakness, and admire my Love.

_Wild_. All Heaven is mine, I have it in my Arms,
Nor can ill Fortune reach me any more.
Fate, I defy thee, and dull World, adieu.
In Love's kind Fever let me ever lie,
Drunk with Desire, and raving mad with Joy.

[_Exeunt into the Bed-chamber_, Wild. _leading her
with his Arms about her_.

SCENE II. _Changes_.

_Another Room in Lady_ Galliard's _House_.

Enter Sir_ Charles Meriwill _and Sir_ Anthony, _Sir_
Charles _drunk_.

Sir _Anth_. A Dog, a Rogue, to leave her!

Sir _Char_. Why, look ye, Uncle, what wou'd you have a Man do? I brought
her to her Coach--

Sir _Anth_. To her Coach! to her Coach! Did not I put her into your Hand,
follow'd you out, wink'd, smil'd and nodded; cry'd 'bye _Charles_, 'bye
Rogue; which was as much as to say, Go home with her, _Charles_, home to
her Chamber, _Charles_; nay, as much as to say, Home to her Bed,
_Charles_; nay, as much as to say--Hum, hum, a Rogue, a Dog, and yet to
be modest too! That I shou'd bring thee up with no more Fear of God
before thy Eyes!

Sir _Char_. Nay, dear Uncle, don't break my Heart now! Why, I did
proffer, and press, and swear, and ly'd, and--but a pox on her, she has
the damn'dst wheedling way with her, as dear _Charles_, nay prithee, fie,
'tis late, to morrow, my Honour, which if you lov'd you wou'd preserve;
and such obliging Reasons.

Sir _Anth_. Reasons! Reason! a Lover, and talk of Reason! You lye,
Sirrah, you lye. Leave a Woman for Reason, when you were so finely drunk
too, a Rascal!

Sir _Char_. Why look ye, d'ye see, Uncle, I durst not trust my self alone
with her in this pickle, lest I shou'd ha' fallen foul on her.

Sir _Anth_. Why, there's it; 'tis that you shou'd have done; I am
mistaken if she be not one of those Ladies that love to be ravisht of a
Kindness. Why, your willing Rape is all the Fashion, _Charles_.

Sir _Char_. But hark ye, Uncle.

Sir _Anth_. Why, how now, Jack-sauce, what, capitulate?

Sir _Char_. Why, do but hear me, Uncle; Lord, you're so hasty! Why, look
ye, I am as ready, d'ye see, as any Man on these Occasions.

Sir _Anth_. Are you so, Sir? and I'll make you willing, or try Toledo
with you, Sir--Why, what, I shall have you whining when you are sober
again, traversing your Chamber with Arms across, railing on Love and
Women, and at last defeated, turn whipping _Tom_, to revenge your self on
the whole Sex.

Sir _Char_. My dear Uncle, come kiss me and be friends; I will be rul'd.
[_Kisses him_.

Sir _Anth_.--A most admirable good-natur'd Boy this! [_Aside_.
Well then, dear _Charles_, know, I have brought thee now hither to the
Widow's House, with a Resolution to have thee order matters so, as before
thou quitst her, she shall be thy own, Boy.

Sir _Char_. Gad, Uncle, thou'rt a Cherubin! Introduce me, d'ye see, and
if I do not so woo the Widow, and so do the Widow, that e'er morning she
shall be content to take me for better for worse--Renounce me! Egad, I'll
make her know the Lord God from _Tom Bell_, before I have done with her.
Nay, backt by my noble Uncle, I'll venture on her, had she all Cupid's
Arrows, genus's Beauty, and Messalina's Fire, d'ye see.

Sir _Anth_. A sweet Boy, a very sweet Boy! Hum, thou art damnable
handsome to Night, _Charles_--Ay, thou wilt do't; I see a kind of
resistless Leudness about thee, a most triumphant Impudence, loose and
wanton.
[_Stands looking on him_.

_Enter_ Closet.

_Clos_. Heavens, Gentlemen, what makes you here at this time of Night?

Sir _Char_. Where's your Lady?

_Clos_. Softly, dear Sir.

Sir _Char_. Why, is she asleep? Come, come, I'll wake her.
[_Offers to force in as to the Bed-chamber_.

_Clos_. Hold, hold, Sir; No, no, she's a little busy, Sir.

Sir _Char_. I'll have no Business done to Night, Sweetheart.

_Clos_. Hold, hold, I beseech you, Sir, her Mother's with her;
For Heaven's sake, Sir, be gone.

Sir _Char_. I'll not budge.

Sir _Anth_. No, not a Foot.

_Clos_. The City you know, Sir, is so censorious--

Sir _Char_. Damn the City.

Sir _Anth_. All the Whigs, _Charles_, all the Whigs.

Sir _Char_. In short, I am resolv'd, d'ye see, to go to the Widow's
Chamber.

Sir _Anth_. Harkye, Mrs. Closet I thought I had entirely engag'd you this
Evening.

_Clos_. I am perfectly yours, Sir; but how it happens so, her Mother
being there--Yet if you wou'd withdraw for half an hour, into my Chamber,
till she were gone--

Sir _Anth_. This is the Reason, _Charles_. Here, here's two Pieces to buy
thee a Gorget.
[_Gives her Money_.

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