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have done exemplary justice, in punishing an inhuman father, and rewarding a faithful lover: but there is a third good work, which I, in particular, must thank you for: I was an infidel to your sex, and you have converted me--for now I am convinced, that all women are not, like fortune, blind in bestowing favours, either on those who do not merit, or who do not want them.

Ang. It is an unreasonable accusation, that you lay upon our sex. You tax us with injustice, only to cover your own want of merit. You would all have the reward of love; but few have

the constancy to stay till it becomes your due.Men are generally hypocrites and infidels; they pretend to worship, but have neither zeal nor faith. How few, like Valentine, would persevere even to martyrdom, and sacrifice their interest to their inconstancy! In admiring me, you misplace the novelty.

The miracle to-day is, that we find
A lover true; not that a woman's kind.

[Exeunt omnes.

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SIR HARRY WILDAIR, a gay man of fashion.
BEAU CLINCHER, an ignorant corcomb.

COLONEL STANDARD, attached to Lady Lurewell.
ALDERMAN SMUGGLER, a city dotard.
CLINCHER Junior, a raw blockhead.

DICKY, a pimp.

TOM ERRAND, a porter.

WOMEN. ANGELICA, attached to Sir Harry Wildair. LADY DARLING, mother to Angelica. PARLY, servant to Lady Lurewell,

VIZARD, a hypocrite, pretending to Lady Lure- LADY LUREWELL, an artful coquette. well.

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Enter VIZARD with a letter, his servant follow

ing.

letter, like yourself, fair on the outside, and foul within; so sent it back unopened.

Viz. May obstinacy guard her beauty till wrinkles bury it! then, may desire prevail to make Viz. ANGELICA send it back unopened! say her curse that untimely pride her disappointed you?

Ser. As you see, sir.

Viz. The pride of these virtuous women is more insufferable than the immodesty of prostitutes-After all my encouragement, to slight me thus!

Ser. She said, sir, that imagining your morals sincere, she gave you access to her conversation; but that your late behaviour in her company has convinced her that your love and your religion are both hypocrisy, and that she believes your

age repents! I'll be revenged the very first opportunity- -Saw you the old lady Darling, her mother?

Ser. Yes, sir, and she was pleased to say much in your commendation.

Viz. That's my cue -An esteem grafted in old age is hardly rooted out; years stiffen their opinions with their bodies, and old zeal is only to be cozened by young hypocrisy. [Aside.] Run to the lady Lurewell's, and know of her maid whether her ladyship will be at home this even

ing. Her beauty is sufficient cure for Angeli- | There are five and thirty strapping officers gone this morning to live upon free quarters in the city.

ca's scorn.

[Exit servant. VIZARD pulls out a book, reads, and walks about.]

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Smug. A law-suit, boy-Shall I tell you? My ship, the Swan, is newly arrived from St Sebastian, laden with Portugal wines: now, the impudent rogue of a tide-waiter has the face to affirm it is French wines in Spanish casks, and has indicted me upon the statute—Oh, conscience! conscience! these tide-waiters and surveyors plague us more with their French wines, than the war did with French privateers Ay, there's another plague of the nationEnter COLONEL STANDARD.

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Stand. This very morning, in Hyde-Park, my brave regiment, a thousand men, that looked like lions yesterday, were scattered, and looked as poor and simple as the herd of deer that grazed beside them.

Smug. Tal, al, deral. [Singing.]I'll have a bonfire this night as high as the monument.

Stand. A bonfire! Thou dry, withered, illnature! had not those brave fellows' swords defended you, your house had been a bonfire ere this about your ears.-Did we not venture our lives, sir?

Smug. And did we not pay for your lives, sir? Venture your lives! I'm sure we ventured our money, and that's life and soul to me.--Sir, we'll maintain you no longer.

Stand. Then your wives shall, old Acteon.

Smug. Oh, lord! Oh, lord! I shall have a son within these nine months born with a leading staff in his hand.--Sir, you are

Stand. What, sir?

Smug. Sir, I say that you are-
Stand. What, sir?

Smug. Disbanded, sir, that's alllawyer yonder.

-I see the [Exit. Viz. Sir, I'm very sorry for your misfortune. Stand. Why so? I don't come to borrow money of you. If you're my friend, meet me this evening at the Rummer; I'll pay my foy, dring a health to my king, prosperity to my country, and away for Hungary to-morrow morning.

Tiz. What you won't leave us?

Stand. What! a soldier stay here, to look like an old pair of colours in Westminster Hall, ragged and rusty! No, no-I met yesterday a broken lieutenant; he was ashamed to own that he wanted a dinner, but begged eighteenpence of me to buy a new scabbard for his

sword.

Viz. Oh, but you have good friends, colonel! Stand. Oh, very good friends! My father's a lord, and my elder brother a beau; mighty good friends, indeed!

Viz. But your country may perhaps want your sword again.

Stand. Nay, for that matter, let but a single drum beat up for volunteers between Ludgate and Charing-Cross, and I shall undoubtedly hear it at the walls of Buda.

Viz. Come, come, colonel, there are ways of making your fortune at home-Make your addresses to the fair; you're a man of honour and courage.

Stand. Ay, my courage is like to do me wondrous service with the fair. This pretty cross cut over my eye will attract a duchess-I warrant 'twill be a mighty grace to my oglingHad I used the stratagem of a certain brother colonel of mine, I might succeed.

Viz. What was it, pray?

Stand. Why, to save his pretty face for the women, he always turned his back upon the enemy.- -He was a man of honour for the

ladies.

Viz. Come, come, the loves of Mars and Venus will never fail; you must get a mistress.

Stand. Prithee, no more on't-You have awakened a thought, from which, and the kingdom, I would have stolen away at once.--To be plain, I have a mistress.

Viz. And she's cruel?
Stand. No.

Viz. Her parents prevent your happiness?
Stand. Not that.

Viz. Then she has no fortune?

Stand. A large one. Beauty to tempt all man

kind, and virtue to beat off their assaults. Oh, | noblest ball at the Bath, or had the finest coach Vizard! such a creature! in the ring? I want news, gentlemen.

Enter SIR HARRY WILDAIR, crosses the stage
singing, with Footmen after him.
Hey-day! Who the devil have we here?
Viz. The joy of the play-house, and life of
the park; Sir Harry Wildair, newly come from
Paris.

Stand. Sir Harry Wildair! Did not he make a campaign in Flanders some three or four years ago?

ly.

Viz. The same.

Stand. Faith, sir, these are no news at all. Viz. But pray, sir Harry, tell us some news of your travels.

Wild. With all my heart.-You must know, then, I went over to Amsterdam in a Dutch ship: I there had a Dutch whore for five stivers. I went from thence to Landen, where I was heartily drubbed in the battle with the butt-end of a Swiss musket. I thence went to Paris, where I had half a dozen intrigues, bought half a dozen new suits, fought a

Stand. Why, he behaved himself very brave-couple of duels, and here I am again in statu

Viz. Why not? Dost think bravery and gaiety are inconsistent? He's a gentleman of most happy circumstances, born to a plentiful estate; has had a genteel and easy education, free from the rigidness of teachers, and pedantry of schools. His florid constitution, being never ruffled by misfortune, nor stinted in its pleasures, has rendered him entertaining to others, and easy to himself: turning all passion into gaiety of humour, by which he chooses rather to rejoice with his friends, than be hated by any, as you shall see.

Re-enter WILDAIR.

Wild. Ha, Vizard!
Viz. Sir Harry!

Wild. Who thought to find you out of the Rubric so long; I thought thy hypocrisy had been wedded to a pulpit-cushion long ago. Sir, if I mistake not your face, your name is Standard?

Stand. Sir Harry, I'm your humble servant. Wild. Come, gentlemen, the news, the news o' the town, for I'm just arrived.

Viz. Why, in the city-end o' the town, we're playing the knave, to get estates.

Štand. And in the court-end playing the fool, in spending them.

Wild. Just so in Paris. I'm glad we're grown so modish.

Viz. And hypocrisy for religion.

Wild. A-la-mode de Paris again.

quo.

Viz. But we heard that you designed to make the tour of Italy; what brought you back so soon?

Wild. That which brought you into the world, and may perhaps carry you out of it; a wo

man.

Stand. What! quit the pleasures of travel for a woman?

Wild. Ay, colonel, for such a woman ! I had rather see her ruelle than the palace of Lewis le Grand. There's more glory in her smile, than in the Jubilee at Rome; and I would rather kiss her hand, than the Pope's

toe.

Viz. You, colonel, have been very lavish in the beauty and virtue of your mistress; and sir Harry, here, has been no less eloquent in the praise of his. Now, will I lay you both ten guineas a piece, that neither of them is so pretty, so witty, or so virtuous, as mine,

Stand. 'Tis done.

Wild. I'll double the stakes--But, gentlemen, now I think on it, how shall we be resolved?— For I know not where my mistress may be found; she left Paris about a month before me, and I had an account

Stand. How, sir! left Paris about a month before you?

Wild. Yes, sir, and I had an account that she lodged somewhere in St James's.

Viz. How! somewhere in St James, say you?
Wild. Aye, sir, but I know not where, and

Viz. Not one whore between Ludgate and perhaps mayn't find her this fortninght.
Aldgate.

Stand. But ten times more cuckolds than

ever.

Viz. Nothing like an oath in the city. Stand. That's a mistake; for my major swore a hundred and fifty last night to a merchant's wife in her bed-chamber,

Wild. Pshaw! this is trifling; tell me news, gentlemen. What lord has lately broke his fortune at the Groom-Porter's? or his heart at Newmarket, for the loss of a race? What wife has been lately suing in Doctor's-Commons for alimony; or what daughter run away with her father's valet? What beau gave the

Stand. Her name, pray, sir Harry. Viz. Aye, aye, her name; perhaps, we know her.

Wild. Her name! Ay; she has the softest, whitest hand that e'er was made of flesh and blood; her lips so balmy sweet

Stand. But her name, sir.

Wild. Then her neck and breast; her breasts do so heave, so heave.

Viz. But her name, sir; her quality.

Wild. Then her shape, colonel!
Stand. But her name I want, sir.

Wild. Then her eyes, Vizard!

[Singing.

Viz. Pshaw, sir Harry, her name, or nothing,

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man?

Viz. Find her! but then her foot, sir Harry; she dances to a miracle.

Wild. Prithee, don't distract me.

Viz. Well, then, you must know, that this lady is the greatest beauty in town; her name's Angelica: she that passes for her mother is a private bawd, and called the lady Darling; she goes for a baronet's lady, (no disparagement to your honour, sir Harry) I assure you.

Wild. Pshaw, hang my honour; but what

Wild. Prithee, Dick, what makes the colonel street, what house? so out of humour?

J'iz. Because he's out of pay, I suppose. Wild. 'Slife, that's true; I was beginning to mistrust some rivalship in the case.

Viz. And suppose there were; you know the colonel can fight, sir Harry.

Wild. Fight! Pshaw-but he cannot dance, ha! We contend for a woman, Vizard. 'Slife, man, if ladies were to be gained by sword and pistol only, what the devil should all we beaus do?

Viz. I'll try him farther. [Aside.] But would not you, sir Harry, fight for this woman you so much admire?

Wild. Fight! Let me consider. I love herthat's true; but, then, I love honest sir Harry❘ Wildair better. The lady Lurewell is divinely charming-right-but, then, a thrust i' the guts, or a Middlesex jury, is as ugly as the devil.

Viz. Aye, sir Harry, 'twere a dangerous cast for a beau-baronet to be tried by a parcel of greasy, grumbling, bartering boobies, who would hang you, purely because you're a gentleman.

money

Wild. Aye, but, on t'other hand, I have enough to bribe the rogues with: so, upon mature deliberation, I would fight for her. But no more of her. Prithee, Vizard, cannot you recommend a friend to a pretty mistress by the bye, till I can find my own? You have store, I am sure; you cunning poaching dogs make surer game, than we that hunt open and fair. Prithee now, good Vizard.

Viz. Let me consider a little. Now, love and revenge inspire my politics. [Aside. [Pauses, whilst SIR HARRY walks singing.

Viz. Not so fast, sir Harry; you must have my passport for your admittance, and you'll find my recommendation in a line or two will procure you very civil entertainment; I suppose twenty or thirty pieces, handsomely placed, will gain the point: I'll ensure her sound.

Wild. Thou dearest friend to a man in necessity! Here, sirrah, order my coach about to St James's; I'll walk across the park.

[To his servant.

Enter CLINCHER, senior.

Clin. Here, sirrah, order my coach about to St James's; I'll walk across the Park, too-Mr Vizard, your most devoted-Sir, [To WILDAIR.]— I admire the mode of your shoulder-knot; methinks it hangs very emphatically, and carries an air of travel in it; your sword-knot, too, is most ornamentally modish, and bears a foreign mien. Gentlemen, my brother is just arrived in town; so that, being upon the wing to kiss his hands, Í hope you will pardon this abrupt departure of, gentlemen, your most devoted, and most faithful humble servant. [Exit CLINCHER,

Wild. Prithee, dost know him?
Viz. Know him! why, it is Clincher, who was
apprentice to my uncle Smuggler, the merchant
in the city.

Wild. What makes him so gay?
T'iz. Why, he's in mourning.
Wild. In mourning?

Viz. Yes, for his father. The kind old man in Hertfordshire t'other day broke his neck a fox-hunting; the son upon the news has broke his indentures; whipped from behind the cornes

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