Mel. What dost thou mean? Mask. Listen, and be dumb-we have been bargaining about the rate of your ruin— Mel. Like any two guardians to an orphan heiress-Well. Mask. And whereas pleasure is generally paid with mischief, what inischief I do is to be paid with pleasure. Mel. So, when you've swallowed the potion, you sweeten your mouth with a plumb. Mask. You are merry, sir, but I shall probe your constitution. In short, the price of your banishment is to be paid with the person of Mel. Of Cynthia, and her fortune-why, you forget you told me this before. Mask. No, no-so far, you are right; and I am, as an earnest of that bargain, to have full and free possession of the person of- -your aunt. Mel. Ha! Pho, you trifle. Mask. By this light, I am serious; all raillery apart-I knew 'twould stun you: this evening, at eight, she will receive me in her bed-chamber. Mel. Hell and the devil! is she abandoned of all grace-why? the woman is possessed Mask. Well, will you go in my stead? Mel. What do you mean? about; but I made love a great while to no pur pose. Mel. Why, what's the matter? she is convinced that I don't care for her. Care. I cannot get an answer from her, that does not begin with her honour, or her virtue, her religion, or some such cant. Then, she has told me the whole story of sir Paul's nine year's courtship; how he has lain, for whole nights together, upon the stairs before her chamber-door; and that the first favour he received from her was a piece of an old scarlet petticoat for a stomacher; which, since the day of his marriage, he has, out of a piece of gallantry, converted into a nightcap, and wears it still with much solemnity on his anniversary wedding night. Mel. That I have seen, with the ceremony thereunto belonging-for, on that night, he creeps in at the bed's feet, like a gulled bassa that has married a relation of the grand signior. I wonder he never told you his grievances; he will, I warrant you. Care. Excessively foolish! but that, which gives me most hopes of her, is her telling me of the many temptations she has resisted. Mel. Nay, then you have her; for a woman's bragging to a man, that she has overcome temptations, is an argument, that they were weakly offered, and a challenge to him to engage her more irresistibly. 'Tis only an enhancing the price of the commodity, by telling you how many custom Mask. Mean! not to disappoint the lady, I assure you-Ha, ha, ha! how gravely he looks-ers have underbid her. come, come, I won't perplex you. "Tis the only thing that Providence could have contrived to make me capable of serving you, either to my inclination, or your own necessity. Mel. How, how, for Heaven's sake, dear Maskwell? Mask. Why thus-I'll go according to appointment; you shall have notice, at the critical minute, to come and surprize your aunt and me to gether; counterfeit a rage against me, and I will make my escape through the private passage from her chamber, which I will take care to leave open: 'twill be hard, if then you can't bring her to any conditions. For this discovery will disarm her of all defence, and leave her entirely at your mercy: nay, she must ever after be in awe of you. Mel. Let me adore thee, my better genius! by Heaven, I think it is not in the power of Fate to disappoint my hopes-my hopes! my certainty. Mask. Well, I'll meet you here within a quarter of eight, and give you notice. [Exit MASKWELL. Mel. Good fortune ever go along with thee. Enter CARELESS. Care. Mellefont, get out of the way; my lady Plyant's coming, and I shall never succeed, while thou art in sight-though she begins to tack Care. Nay, I dont despair—but still she has a grudging to you-I talked to her t'other night at my lord Froth's masquerade, when I am satisfied she knew me, and I had no reason to complain of my reception; but I find women are not the same bare-faced, and in masks-and a vizor disguises their inclinations as much as their faces. : Mel. Here they come. I'll leave you. Ply her close, and by and by clap a billet-doux into her hand for a woman never thinks a man truly in love with her, till he has been fool enough to think of her out of her sight, and to lose so much time as to write to her. [Exit MELLEFONT. Enter SIR PAUL and LADY PLYANT. Care. You bring that along with you, sir Paul, that shall be always welcome to my privacy. Sir Paul. O, sweet sir! you load your humble servants, both me and my wife, with continual favours. Lady Ply. Sir Paul, what a phrase was there! You will be making answers, and taking that upon you, which ought to lie upon me that you should have so little breeding to think Mr Careless did not apply himself to me! Pray, what have you to entertain any body's privacy? I swear, and declare, in the face of the world, I am ready | to blush for your ignorance. Sir Paul. I acquiesce, my lady; but don't snub so loud. [Aside to her. Lady Ply. Mr Careless, if a person, that is wholly illiterate, might be supposed to be capa ble of being qualified to make a suitable return to those obligations, which you are pleased to confer upon one that is wholly incapable of being qualified in all those circumstances, I am sure I should rather attempt it than any thing in the world-[Courtesies for I am sure there is nothing in the world that I would rather. [Courtesies.] But I know Mr Careless is so great a critic, and so fine a gentleman, that it is impossible for me Care. Oh, Heavens! Madam, you confound me. Sir Paul. Gad's bud, she is a fine personLady Ply. O lord! sir, pardon me : we women have not those advantages: I know my own imperfections-but, at the same time, you must give me leave to declare, in the face of the world, that nobody is more sensible of favours and things; for, with the reserve of my honour, I assure you, Mr Careless, I don't know any thing in the world I would refuse to a person so meritorious- You'll pardon my want of expression. Cure. Oh, your ladyship is abounding in all excellence, particularly that of phrase. Lady Ply. You are so obliging, sir. Care. So surprizing. Lady Ply. So well drest, so bonne mien, so eloquent, so unaffected, so easy, so free, so particular, so agreeable Sir Paul. Aye, so, so, there. Care. O lord! I beseech you, madam, don't Lady Ply. So gay, so graceful, so good teeth, so fine shape, so fine limbs, so tine linen, and I don't doubt but you have a very good skin, sir. Cure. For Heaven's sake, madam-I am quite out of countenance. Sir Paul. And my lady's quite out of breath; or else you should hear-Gad's bud, you may talk of my lady Froth. Care. O ty, fy! not to be named of a day-my lady roth is very well in her accomplishments but it is, when my lady Plyant is not thought of if that can ever be. thank Heaven, in a fine way of living, as I may say, peacefully and happily, and I think need not envy any of my neighbours, blessed be Providence- -Aye, truly, Mr Careless, my lady is a great blessing; a fine, discreet, well-spoken woinan as you shall see if it becomes me to say so; and we live very comfortably together; she is a little hasty sometimes, and so am I; but mine is soon over; and then, I am so sorry-Oh, Mr Careless, if it were not for one thing Care. What can that be, sir Paul? Sir Paul. Why, I have, I thank Heaven, a very plentiful fortune, a good estate in the country, some houses in town, and some money, a pretty tolerable personal estate; and it is a great grief to me, indeed it is, Mr Careless, that I have not a son to inherit this. 'Tis true, I have a daughter, and a find dutiful child she is, though I say it, blessed be Providence I may say; for indeed, Mr Careless, I am mightily beholden to Providence-A poor unworthy sinner-But if I had a a son, ah! that's my affliction, and my only affliction; indeed, I cannot refrain tears, when it comes into my mind. [Cries. Care. Why, methinks that might be easily remedied; my lady is a fine likely woman. Sir Paul. Oh, a fine likely woman as you shall see in a summer's day-Indeed she is, Mr Careless, in all respects. Care. And I should not have taken you to have been so old Sir Paul. Alas! that's not it, Mr Careless: ah! that's not it; no, no; you shoot wide of the mark a mile; indeed you do; that's not it, Mr Careless; no, no; that's not it. Care. No? what can be the matter, then? Sir Paul. You'll scarcely believe me, when I shall tell you my lady is so nice-It is very strange, but it is true: too true- -she IS so very nice, that I don't believe she would touch a man for the world.— -Indeed, it is true, Mr Careless, it breaks my heart-I am her husband, as I may say; though far unworthy of that bonour, yet I am her husband; but alas-a-day! I have no more familiarity with her person-than with my own mother-no, indeed. Care. Alas-a-day! this is a lamentable story; my lady must be told of it; she must, in faith, sir Paul; 'tis an injury to the world. Sir Paul. Ah! would to Heaven you would, Mr Careless! you are mightily in her favour. Care. I warrant you; what! we must have a son some way or other. Sir Paul. Indeed, I should be mightily bound to you, if you could bring it about, Mr Careless. Lady Ply. Here, sir Paul, it is from your steward; here's a return of 6001. you may take fifty of it for the next half-year. [Gives him the letter. Enter LORD FROTH and CYNTHIA. Sir. Paul. How does my girl? Come hither to thy father, poor lamb; thou art melancholic. Lord Froth. Heaven, sir Paul, you amaze me of all things in the world- -You are never pleased but when we are all upon the broad grin; all laugh and no company; ah! then 'tis such a sight to see some teethsure you are a great admirer of my lady Whifler, Mr Sneer, and sir Laurence Loud, and that gang. Sir Paul. I vow and swear she is a very merry woman; but I think she laughs a little too much. Lord Froth. Merry! O lord, what a character that is of a woman of quality-You have been at my lady Whifler's upon her day, madam? Cyn. Yes, my lord—I must humour this fool. [Aside. Lord Froth. Well and how? hee! What is your sense of the conversation? Cyn. O, most ridiculous, a perpetual concert of laughing without any harmony; for sure, my lord, to laugh out of time, is as disagreeable as to sing out of time, or out of tune. Lord Froth. Hee, hee, hee! right; and then my lady Whiffer is so ready--she always comes in three bars too soon-And then, what do they laugh at? For you know laughing without a jest is as impertinent, hee! as Cyn. As dancing without a fiddle. Lord Froth. Just, in faith! that was at my tongue's end. Cyn. But that cannot be properly said of them; for I think they are all in good nature with the world, and only laugh at one another; and you must allow they have all jests in their persons, though they have none in their conversa tion. Lord Froth. True, as I am a person of honour- For Heaven's sake let us sacrifice them to mirth a little, Enter Boy, and whispers Sir Paul. Sir Paul. Gad so-Wife, Wife! my lady Plyant! I have a word— Lady Ply. I am busy, sir Paul; I wonder at your impertinence Care. Sir Paul, harkee! I am reasoning the matter you know: Madam, if your Ladyship please, we'll discourse of this in the next room. [Exeunt LADY PLYANT and CARELESS. Sir Paul. O ho! I wish you good success; I wish you good success. Boy, tell my lady, when she has done, I would speak with her below. [Exit SIR PAUL. Enter LADY FROTH and BRISK. Lady Froth. Then, you think that episode between Susan the dairy-maid, and our coachman, is not amiss; you know, I may suppose the dairy in town, as well as in the country. Brisk. Incomparable, let me perish! But then, being an heroic poem, had you not better call him a charioteer? Charioteer sounds great : besides, your ladyship's coachman having a red face, and you comparing him to the sunAnd you know the sun is called Heaven's chari oteer. Lady Froth. Oh, infinitely better! I am extremely beholden to you for the hint; stay, we'll read over those half a score lines again. [Pulls out a paper.] Let me see here; you know what goes before- -the comparison, you know. [Reads.] For as the sun shines every day, 'So, of our coachman, I may say? Brisk. I am afraid that simile won't do in wet weather-Because you say the sun shines every day. Lady Froth. No, for the sun it won't, but it will do for the coachman; for you know there's most occasion for a coach in wet weather. Brisk. Right, right; that saves all. Lady Froth. Then, I don't say the sun shines all the day, but that he peeps now and then; yet he does shine all the day too, you know, though we don't see him. Brisk. Right, but the vulgar will never comprehend that. Lady Froth. Well, you shall hear-Let me see. [Reads.] For as the sun shines every day, 'So of our coachman I may say; 'He shews his drunken fiery face, 'Just as the sun does, more or less.' Brisk. That's right; all's well, all's well. More or less. Ay, charioteer does better. Into the dairy he descends, And there his whipping and'his driving ends. 'There, he's secure from danger of a bilk, 'His fare is paid him, and he sets in milk.' For Susan, you know, is Thetis, and so Brisk. Incomparable well and proper, 'egad But I have one exception to make-Don't you think bilk (I know it is good rhyme) but don't you think bilk and fare too like a hackney coachman? Lady Froth. I swear and vow I am afraid so And yet our Jehu was a hackney coachman, when my lord took him. Brisk. Was he? I am answered, if Jehu was a hackney coachman-You may put that in the marginal notes, though, to prevent criticism-Only, mark it with a small asterism, and say--Jehu was formerly a hackney coachman. Lady Froth. I will; you'll oblige me extremely to write notes to the whole poem. Brisk. With all my heart and soul, and proud of the vast honour, let me perish. Lord Froth. Hee, hee, hee! my dear, have you done?-Won't you join with us? we were laughing at my lady Whifler and Mr Sneer. Lady Froth. Ay, my dear- -Were you? Oh filthy Mr Sneer! he's a nauseous figure, a most fulsamic fop! foh!-He spent two days together in going about Covent-Garden to suit the lining of his coach with his complexion. Lord Froth. O silly! yet his aunt is as fond of him as if she had brought the ape into the world herself. a Brisk. Who, my lady Toothless? O, she's mortifying spectacle! she's always chewing the cud, like an old ewe. Cyn. Fy, Mr Brisk! eringo is for her cough. Lady Froth. I have seen her take them, halfchewed, out of her mouth to laugh, and then put them in again-Foh! Lord Froth. Foh! Lady Froth. Then she is always ready to laugh when Sneer offers to speak-and sits in expectation of his no jest, with her gums bare, and her mouth open Brisk. Like an oyster at low ebb, 'egad-Ha, ha, ha! Lady Froth. Then, that t'other great strapping lady- -I cannot hit of her name; the old fat fool that paints so exorbitantly. Brisk. I know whom you mean-But deuce take me, I cannot hit of her name neitherPaints, d'ye say? Why, she lays it on with a trowel- -Then she has a great beard that bristles through it, and makes her look as if she were plastered with lime and hair, let me perish. Lady Froth. Oh, you made a song upon her, Mr Brisk. Brisk. He! 'egad so I did My lord can sing it. 'Tis not a song neither—It is a sort of an epigram, or rather an epigrammatic sonnet; I don't know what to call it, but it is satire. LORD FROTH Sings. Ancient Phillis has young graces, She herself makes her own faces, Brisk. Short, but there is salt in it; my way of writing, 'egad. Enter Footman. Lady Froth. How now? Foot. Your Ladyship's chair is come. Lady Froth. Is nurse and the child in it? Foot. Yes, Madam. [Exit. Lady Froth. O, the dear creature! let us go see it. Lord Froth. I swear, my dear, you'll spoil that child with sending it to and again so often; this is the seventh time the chair has gone for her to-day. Lady Froth. O la! I swear it's but the sixth-and I han't seen her these two hours- -The poor dear creature-I swear, my lord, you don't love poor little Sappho,-Come, my dear Cynthia, Mr Brisk, we'll go see Sappho, though my lord won't. Cyn. I'll wait upon your ladyship. Brisk. Pray, madam, how old is lady Sappho ? Lady Froth. Three quarters; but I swear she has a world of wit, and can sing a tune already. My lord, won't you go? Won't you? What, not to see Saph? Pray, my lord, come see little Saph. I knew you could not stay. [Exeunt SCENE I. A CT IV. Enter CARELESS and LADY PLYANT. Lady Ply. I swear, Mr Careless, you are very alluring and say so many fine things-and nothing is so moving to me as a fine thing. Well I must do you this justice, and declare, in the face of the world, never any body gained so far upon me as yourself; with blushes I must own ¿t, you have shaken, as I may say, the very foundation of my honour-Well, sure, if I escape your importunities, I shall value myself as long as I live, I swear. Care. And despise me. [Sighing. Lady Ply. The last of any man in the world, by my purity! now you make me swear-0), gratitude forbid, that I should ever be wanting in a respectful acknowledgment of an entire resignation of all my best wishes for the person and parts of so accomplished a person, whose merit challenges much more, I am sure, than my illiterate praises can description! Care. [In a whining tone.] Ah, heavens, madam! you ruin me with kindness; your charming tongue pursues the victory of your eyes, while, at your feet, your poor adorer dies. Ludy Ply. Ah! very fine. Care. [Still whining.] Ah! why are you so fair, so bewitching fair? O, let me grow to the ground here, and feast upon that hand! O, let me press it to my heart, my trembling heart! the nimble movement shall instruct your pulse, and teach it to alarm desire. Zoons, I am almost at the end of my cant, if she does not yield quickly. [Aside. Lady Ply. O, that is so passionate and fine, I cannot hear it-I am not safe if I stay, and must leave you. Care. And must you leave me! Rather let me languish out a wretched life, and breathe my soul beneath your feet-I must say the same thing over again, and cannot help it. [Aside. Lady Ply. I swear I am ready to languish, too O my honour! Whither is it going? I protest you have given me the palpitation of the heart. Care. Can you be so cruel? Lady Ply. O rise! I beseech you, say no more till you rise-Why did you kneel so long? I swear I was so transported I did not see itWell, to shew you how far you have gained upon me, I assure you, if sir Paul should die, of all mankind there is none I would sooner make my second choice. Care. O Heaven! I cannot outlive this night without your favour-I feel my spirits faint; a general dampness overspreads my face; a cold deadly dew already vents through all my pores, and will to-morrow wash me, for ever, from your sight, and drown me in my tomb. [Aside. Lady Ply. Oh, I yield myself all up to your uncontroulable embraces!-say, thou dear dying man, when, where, and how? Care. 'Slife, yonder's sir Paul! but if he were not come, I am so transported, I cannot speak— This note will inform you. [Gives her a note. Exit. Enter SIR PAUL and CYNTHIA, Sir Paul. Thou art my tender lambkin, and shalt do what thou wilt-But endeavour to forget this Mellefont. Cyn. I would obey you to my power, sir; but if I have not him, I have sworn never to marry. Sir Paul. Never to marry! Heavens forbid! Must I neither have sons nor grandsons? Must the family of the Plyants be utterly extinct for want of issue male? Oh, impiety! But did you swear? did that sweet creature swear! ha? How durst you swear without my consent, ah? Gadsbud, who am I ? Cyn. Pray don't be angry, sir; when I swore, I had your consent, and therefore I swore. Sir Paul. Why, then, the revoking my consent does annul, or make of none effect, your oath; so you may unswear it again-The law will allow it. Cyn. Ay, but my conscience never will. Sir Paul. Gads-bud, no matter for that; conscience and law never go together; you must not expect that. Lady Ply. Ay, but sir Paul, I conceive, if she has sworn, do ye mark me, if she has once sworn, it is most unchristian, inhuman, and obscene, that she should break it. I'll make up the match again, because Mr Careless said it would oblige him. [Aside. Sir Paul. Does your ladyship conceive so?Why, I was of that opinion once, too-Nay, if your ladyship conceives so, I am of that opinion again; but I can neither find my lord nor my lady, to know what they intend. Lady Ply. I am satisfied that my cousin Mellefont has been much wronged. Cyn. [Aside.] I am amazed to find her of our side, for I am sure she loved him. Lady Ply. I know my lady Touchwood has no kindness for him; and besides, I have been informed by Mr Careless, that Mellefont had never any thing more than a profound respectThat he has owned himself to be my admirer, it is true; but he was never so presumptuous to entertain any dishonourable notion of |