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in my

I call you.

for half the money, and je vous remercie into the ney; I'll Ay; I'll swim ;-I wish to the Lord bargain.

I were at the Jubilee now! Viz. Gone in her airs, say you ! And did not Lure. Can't you think of any thing, sir? you follow her?

Clin. sen. Think! not I; I never could think Wild. Whither should I follow her?

to any purpose

life. Viz. Into her bed-chamber, man; she went on Lure. What do you want, sir ? purpose. You a man of gallantry, and not understand that a lady's best pleased when she

Enter Tom ERRAND. puts on her airs, as you call it !

Err. Madam, I am looking for sir Harry Wild. She talked to me of strict modesty, and Wildair ; I saw him come in here this morning; stuff.

and did imagine he might be here still, if he is Viz. Certainly. Most women magnify their not gone. modesty, for the same reason that cowards boast Lure. A lucky hit! Here, friend, change their courage—because they have least on't.- clothes with this gentleman; quickly, strip. Come, come, sir Harry, when you make your Clin. sen. Ay, ay, quickly, strip; I'll give you next assault, encourage your spirits with brisk half a crown to boot. Come here; şo. Burgundy: if you succeed, 'tis well; if not, you

[They change clothes. have a fair excuse for your rudeness. I'll go in, Lure. Now, slip you [Ìv Clin. sen.) down and make your peace for what's past. Oh, I had stairs, and wait at the door till my husband be almost forgot-Colonel Standard wants to speak gone; and get you in there [To the Porter.] till with you about some business.

[Puts Errand in the next room. Wild. I'll wait upon him presently; d’ye know where he may be found ?

Enter StayDARD. Viz. In the piazza of Covent-Garden, about an Oh, sir, are you come? I wonder, sir, how you hour hence, I promised to see him; and there have the confidence to approach me after su base you may meet him to have your throat cut. a trick? [Aside. r'll go in and intercede for you.

Stand. Oh, madam, all your artifices won't avail. Wild. But no foul play with the lady, Vizard. Lure. Nay, sir, your artifices won't avail. I

[Erit. thought, sir, that I gave you caution enough aViz. No fair play, I can assure you. [Exit. gainst troubling me with sir Harry Wildair's com

pany, when I sent his letters back by you? yet SCENE III.-The Street before LUREWELL'S you, forsooth, must tell him where I lodged, and Lodgings.

expose me again to bis impertinent courtship!

Stand. I expose you to his courtship! CLINCHER senior, and LUREWELL, coquetting Lure. I'll lay my life you'll deny it now. Come,

in the balcony. Enter STANDARD. come, sir; a pitiful lie is as scandalous to a red Stand. How weak is reason in disputes of love! coat, as an oath to a black. Did not sir Harry That daring reason, which so oft pretends to himself teil me, that he found out, by you, where question works of high omnipotence, yet poorly I lodged? truckles to our weakest passions, and yields im Stand. You're all ligs; first, your heart is . plicit faith to foolish love, paying blind zeal to false ; your eyes are double; one look belies faithless women's eyes. I've heard her falsehood another; and then, your tongue does contradict with such pressing proofs, that I no longer should them all-Madam, I see a little devil just now distrust it. Yet still my love would baffle de hammering out a lie in your pericranium. monstration, and make impossibilities seem pro Lure. As I hope for mercy, he's in the right bable. [Looks up.] Ha! That fool, too! What, Jon't. (Aside.] Ilold, sir, you have got the playstoop so low as that animal ?--'Tis true, women house cant upon your tongue, and think, that wit once fallen, like cowards in despair, will stick at inay privilege your railing : but, I must tell you, nothing; there's no medium in their actions. sir, that what is satire upon the stage, is ill manThey must be bright as angels, or black as fiends. pers here.

Stand. What is feigned upon

the But now for my revenge; I'll kick her cully be

stage, is here, fore her face, call her whore, curse the whole in reality, real falsehood. Yes, yes, madam–I sex, and leave her.

[Goes in. exposed you to the courtship of your fool Clin

cher, too; I hope your female wiles will impose that

-alsoLUREWELL comes down with CLINCHER senior. The Scene changes to a Dining-Room.

Lure. Clincher! Nay, now, you're stark mad.

I know no such person. Lure. Oh, lord, sir, it is my husband! What Stand. Oh, woman in perfection! not know will become of yon?

him? 'Slife, madam, can my eyes, my piercing Clin. sen. Ah, your husband! Oh, I shall be jealous eyes, be so deluded Nay, madam, my murdered! What shall I do? Where shall I run? nose could not mistake him; for I sinelt the fop I'll creep into an oven; I'll climb up the chim- by his pulvilio from the balcony down to the street. Vol. II.


upon me


Lure. The balcony! Ila, ha, ha! the balco Clin. sen. Oh, lord, what shall I say now? ny! I'll be hanged but he has mistaken sir Harry Seen him? Yes, sir-No, sir. I have, sir-I Wildair's footman with a new French livery for have not, sir. a beau !

Stund. The fellow's mad! Answer me directStand. 'Sdeatlı, madam, what is there in me ly, sirrah, or I'll break your head. that looks like a cully? Did not I see him? Clin, sen. I know sir Harry very well, sir; but,

Lure. No, no, you could not see him; you're as to the note, sir, I can't remember a word dreaming, colonel. Will you believe your eyes, on't: is, I have a very bad memory. now that I have rubbed them open ?-Here, you Stand. Oh, sir, I'll quicken your memory. friend.

[Strikes him.

Clin. sen. Zauns, sir, hold !-I did give him Enter ERRAND in Clincher senior's clothes.

the note. Stand. This is illusion all; my eyes conspire Stand. And what answer? against themselves. 'Tis legerdemain !

Clin. sen. I mean, I did not give him the note. Lure. Legerdemain ! Is that all your acknow Stund. What, d'ye banter, rascal ? ledgment for your rude behaviour: -Oh, what a

[Strikes him again. curse is it to love as I do ! But don't presume Clin. sen. Hold, sir, hold! He did send an too far, sir, on my affection : for such ungenerous answer. usage will soon return my tired heart.- Begone, Stand. What was't, villain? sir, [To the Porter.] to your impertinent master, Clin. sen. Why, truly, sir, I have forgot it: I and tell him I shall never be at leisure to receive told you that I had a very treacherous memory. any of his troublesome visits. Send to me to Stand. I'll engage you shall remember me this know when I should be at home!-- Begone, sir ! month, rascal. [Beats him off"; and erit. I am sure he has made me an unfortunate wo

Enter LUREWELL and Party.

[Weeps. Stund. Nay, then, there is no certainty in na Lure. Fort-bon, fort-bon, fort-bon! This is ture; and truth is only falsehood well disguised. better than I expected; but fortune still helps

Lure. Sir, had not I owned my fond, foolish the industrious. passion, I should not have been subject to such unjust suspicions: but it is an ungrateful return.

Enter Clincher senior.

(Weeping: Clin. sen. Ah! the devil take all intriguing, Stand. Now, where are all my firm resolves ? say I, and him who first invented canes-That I will believe her just. My passion raised my cursed colonel has got such a knack of beating jealousy; then, why may’nt love be as blind in his men, that he has left the mark of a collar of finding faults, as in excusing them ?-I hope, ma- bandiliers about my shoulders. dam, you'll pardon me, since jealousy, that mag Lure. Oh, my poor gentleman! and was it nified my suspicion, is as much the effect of love, beaten? as my easiness in being satisfied.

Clin. sen. Yes, I have been beaten. But where's Lure. Easiness in being satisfied! You men

my clothes?


clothes ? have got an insolent way of extorting pardon, by Lure. What, you won't leave me so soon, my persisting in your faults. No, no, sir; cherish dear, will ye? your suspicions, and feed upon your jealousy: Clin. sen. Will

ye !--If ever I peep into a co’tis fit meat for your squeamish stomach. lonel's tent again, may I be forced to run the

With me all women should this rule pursue : gauntlet! But my clothes, madam.
Who think us false, should never find us true. Lure. I sent the porter down stairs with them :

[Erit in a rage. did not you meet him?

Clin. sen. Meet him! No; not I. Enter Clincher senior in the porter's clothes.

Par. No !-He went out at the back-door, and Clin. sen. Well, intriguing is the prettiest, plea- is run clear away, I'm afraid. santest thing for a man of my parts. How shall Clin. sen. Gone, say you, and with my clothes, we laugh at the husband when he is gone ?- How my fine Jubilee clothes ? --Oh, the rogue, the sillily he looks! He's in labour of horns already. thief !-I'll have him hanged for murder -But To make a colonel a cuckold ! 'Twill be rare how shall I get home in this pickle? news for the alderman,

[ Apart. Par. I'm afraid, sir, the colonel will be back Stand. All this sir Harry has occasioned; but presently, for be dines at home. he's brave, and will afford me a just revenge. Clin. sen. Oh, then, I must sneak off. Oh, this is the porter I sent the challenge by- Was ever such an unfortunate beau, Well, sir, have you found him?

To have his back well thrashed, and lost his coat Clin. sen. What the devil does he mean now?


[Erit CLINCHER sen. Siand. Have you given sir Harry the note, fellow? Lure. Thus, the noble poet spoke truth: Clin. sen. The note! What note?

Nothing suits worse with vice than want of sense: Stand. The letter, blockhead, which I sent by Fools are still wicked at their own expence. you to sir Harry Wildair. Have you seen him: Par. Methinks, madam, the injuries you have

suffered by men must be very great, to raise such Par. Ah! next night, madam-next night heavy resentments against the whole sex. (I'm afraid) was a night, indeed.

Lure. The greatest injury that woman could Lure. He bribed my maid, with his gold, out sustain: they robbed me of that jewel, which, of her honesty; and me, with his rhetoric, out of preserved, exalts our sex almost to angels : but, my honour-She adınitted him into iny chamber, destroyed, debases us below the worst of brutes, and there he vowed, and swore, and wept, an i mankind.

sighed—and conquered.

Weep. Par. But, I think, madam, your anger should Par. A-lack-a-day, poor fifteen! [Weep.. be only confined to the author of your wrongs.

Lure. He swore that he would come down Lure. The author ! Alas, I know him not, from Oxford in a fortnight, and marry me. which makes my wrongs the greater."

Par. The old bait, the old bait-I was cheatPar. Not know him? 'T'is odd, madam, that a ed just so myself. [Aside.] But had not you the man should rob you of that same jewel you men wit to know his name all this while? tioned, and you not know him.

Lure. Alas! what wit had innocence like Lure. Leave trifling : 'tis a subject that al- mine? Ile told me, that he was under an obligaways sours my temper : but since, by thy faithful tion to his companions of concealing himself theil, service, I have some reason to contide in your but that he would write to me in two days, and secrecy, hear the strange relation.—Some twelve let me know his name and quality. After all the years ago, I lived at my father's house in Oxford-binding oaths of constancy, joining bands, exshire, blest with innocence, the ornamental, but changing hearts, I gave him a ring with this weak guard of blooming beauty: I was then just motto : Love and honour :—then we parted, and fifteen, an age fatal to the female sex. Our youth I never saw the dear deceiver more. is tempting, our innocence credulous, romances Par. No, nor never will, I warrant you. moving, love powerful, and men are-villains. Lure. I need not tell my griefs, which my Then it happened, that three young gentlemen father's death made a fair pretence for; he left from the university, coining into the country, and me sole heiress and executris to three tnousand being benighted, and strangers, called at my fa- pounds a-year : at last, my love for this single ther's : he was very glad of their company, and dissembler turned to a hatred of the whole

sex; offered them the entertainment of his house. and, to direct iny melancholy, and make my large

Par. Which they accepted, no doubt: Oh, fortune subservient to my pleasure and revenge, these strolling collegians are never abroad, but I went to travel, where, in most courts of Europe, upon some mischief.

I have done some execution. Here I will play Lure. They had some private frolic or design my last scene : then retire to my country-house, in their heads, as appeared by their not naming live solitary, and die a penitent. one another, which my father perceiving, out of Par. But don't you still love this fair dissemcivility made no inquiry into their affairs; two bler? of them had a heavy, pedantic, university air; a Lure. Most certainly. 'Tis love of him that sort of disagreeable scholastic boorishness in their keeps my anger warm, representing the baseness behaviour; but the third

of mankind full in view ; and makes my resentPar. Ah, the third, madam—the third of all ments work-We shall have that old impertinent things, they say, is very critical.

letcher, Smuggler, here to-night; I have a plot to Lure. He was—but in short, nature cut bim swinge him, and his precise nephew, Vizard. out for my undoing; he seemed to be about Par. I think, madam, you manage every body eighteen.

that comes in your way. Par. A fit match for your fifteen as could be. Lure. No, Parly; those men, whose preten

Lure. He had a genteel sweetness in his face, sions I found just and honourable, I fairly disa graceful comeliness in his person, and his missed, by letting them know my firm resolutions tongue was fit to sooth soft innocence into ruin. never to marry. But those villains that would His

very looks were witty, and his expressive attempt my honour, I've seldom failed to maeyes spoke softer, prettier things, than words nage. could frame.

Par. What d'ye think of the colonel, madam? Par. There will be mischief by and by; I never I suppose his designs are honourable. heard a woman talk so much of eyes, but there Lure. That man's a riddle; there's something were tears presently after.

of honour in his temper that pleases; I'm sure Lure. His discourse was directed to my father, he loves me, too, because he's soon jealous, and but his looks to me. After supper, I went to my

soon satisfied. But he's a map still, When I chamber, and read Cassandra, then went to bed, once tried his pulse about marriage, his blood and dreamed of him all night, rose in the morn ran as low as a coward's. He swore, indeed, that ing, and made verses, so fell desperately in love. he loved me, but could not marry me, forsooth, My father was so well pleased with their conver- because he was engaged elsewhere. So poor a sation, that he begged their company next day; pretence inade ine disdain his passion, which they consented, and next night, Parly

otherwise might have been uneasy to me.-But

hang him, I have teased him enough—Besides, Fortune, this once assist me as before: Parly, I begin to bc tired of my revenge: but, Two such machines can never work in vain, this buss and guinea I must maúl once more. I'll As thy propitious wheel, and my projecting brain. hairdsel his women's clothes for him. Go, get me

[Ereunt. pen and ink; I must write to Vizard, too.



SCENE I.-Covent Garden.

a woman, get it out of her hands as soon as you

An honourable lover is the greatest slave WILDAIR and STANDARD meeting.

in nature: some will say, the greatest fool. Come, Stand. I THOUGHT, sir Harry, to have met you come, colonel, that is something about the lady ere this in a more convenient place; but, since Lurewell, I warrant; I can give you satisfaction my wrongs were without ceremony, my revenge in that affair. shall be so, too. Draw, sir.

Stand. Do so, then, immediately. Wild. Draw, sir! What shall I draw?

Wild. Put up your sword first; you know I Stand. Come, come, sir, I like your facetious dare fight : but I had much rather make you a huniour well enough; it shews courage and friend than an enemy. I can assure you, this unconcern. I know you brave; and therefore lady will prove too hard for one of your temper. use you thus.Draw your sword.

You have too much honour, too much in conWild. Nay, to oblige you, I will draw; but, science, to be a favourite with the ladies. the devil take me if I fight. Perhaps, colonel, Stand. I'm assured, sir, she never gave you this is the prettiest blade you have seen.

any encouragement. Stand. I doubt not but the arm is good; and, Wild. A man can never hear reason with a therefore, think both worth my resentment. sword in his hand. Sheath your weapon; and Come, sir.

then, if I don't satisfy you, sheath it in my body. Wild. But, prithee, colonel, dost think that I Stand. Give me but demonstration of her am such a madman, as to send my soul to the granting you any favour, and it is enough. devil, and body to the worms -upon every

Wild. Will


word? fool's errand ?

(Aside. Stand. Pardon me, sir-I cannot. Stand. I hope you're no coward, sir.

Wild. Will you believe your own eyes? Wild. Coward, sir! I have eight thousand Stand. 'Tis ten to one whether I shall or no; pounds a-year, sir.

they have deceived me already. Stand. You fought in Flanders, to my know Wild. That's hard—but some means I shall deledge.

vise for your satisfaction—we must fly this place, Wild. Ay, for the same reason that I wore a else that cluster of mob will overwhelm us. red coat; because 'twas fashionable.

[Ereunt. Stand. Sir, you fought a French count in Paris.

Enter mob; Tom Errand's wife hurrying in Wild. True, sir; but there was no danger of

Clincher, sen. in Errand's clothes. lands nor tenements : besides, he was a beau, like myself. Now you're a soldier, colonel, and Wife. Oh! the villain, the rogue, he has murfighting's your trade; and I think it downright dered my husband. Ah, my poor Timothy ! madness to contend with any man in his profes

[Crying sion.

Clin. sen. Dem your Timothy! your husband Stand. Come, sir, no more dallying ; I shall has murdered me, woman; for he has carried take very unseemly methods, if you don't shew away my fine jubilee clothes. yourself a gentleman.

Wife. Aye, you cut-throat, have you not got Wild. A gentleman! Why, there again, now. his clothes upon your back there? Neighbours, A gentleman! I tell you once more, colonel, that don't you know poor Timothy's coat and apron? I am a baronet, and have eight thousand pounds Mob. Aye, aye, it is the same. a-year. I can dance, sing, ride, fence, under 1st Mob. What shall we do with him, neighstand the languages—Now, I can't conceive bours? how running you through the body should con 2d Mob. We'll pull him in pieces. tribute one jot more to

gentility. But, pray, 1st Mob. No, no; then we inay be hanged for colonel, I had forgot to ask you, what's the quar- murder; but we'll drown him, rel?

Clin. sen. Ah, good people, pray don't drown Stand. A woman, sir.

me; for I never learned to swim in all my life. Wild. Then I put up my sword. Take her. Ah, this plaguy intriguing ! Stund. Sir, my honour's concerned.

Mob. Away with him! away with him to the Tiild. Nay, if your honour be concerned with Thames !

Clin. sen. Oh! if I had but my swimming giro , again, you're out. They're all alike, sir : I never dle now!

heard of any one that was particular, but one.

Stand. Who was she, pray?
Enter Constable.

Wild. Penelope, I think she's called, and that's Con. Hold, neighbours ; I command the peace. a poetical story, too. When will you find a poet,

Wife. Oh, Mr Constable, here's a rogue that in our age, make a woman so chaste ? has murdered my husband, and robbed him of his Stand. Well, sir Harry, your facetious humour clothes.

can disguise falsehood, and make calumny pass Con. Murder and robbery! then he must be a for satire; but you have promised me ocular degentleman. Hands off, there; he must not be monstration that she favours you: make that abused. Give an account of yourself. Are you good, and I shall then maintain faith and female a gentleman ?

to be as inconsistent as truth and falsehood. Clin. sen. No, sir, I'm a beau.

Wild. Nay, by what you told me, I am satisfiCon. A beau ! Then you have killed nobody, ed that she imposes on us all: and Vizard, too, I'm persuaded. How.caine you by these clothes, seems what I still suspected him: but his honesty sir?

once mistrusted, spoils his knavery. But will Clin. sen. You must know, sir, that walking you be convinced, if our plot succeeds ? along, sir, I don't know how, sir, I cannot tell Stund. I rely on your word and honour, sir where, sir, and so the porter and I changed Harry; which, if I doubted, my distrust would clothes, sir.

cancel the obligation of their security. Con. Very well. The man speaks reason, and Wild. Then meet me half an hour hence, at like a gentleman.

the Rummer; you must oblige me by taking a Wife. But pray, Mr Constable, ask him how hearty glass with me, toward the fitting me out for be changed clothes with him?

a certain project, which this night I undertake. Con. Silence, woman, and don't disturb the Stand. I guess, by the preparation, that wocourt. Well, sir, how did you change clothes ?

man's the design. Clin. sen. Why, sir, he pulled off my coat, and Wild. Yes, faith! I am taken dangerous ill I drew off his : so I put on his coat, and he put with two foolish maladies, modesty and love: the on mine.

first I'll cure with Burgundy, and my love by a Con. Why, neighbour, I don't find that he's night's lodging with the damsel. A sure remedy, guilty: search him; and, if he carries no arms Probatum est. about him, we'll let him go.

Stand. I'll certainly meet you, sir. [They search his pockets, and pull out his pis

[Ereunt severally. tols.] Clin. sen. Oh, gemini ! my jubilee pistols !

Enter CLINCHER junior and Dicky. Con. What, a case of pistols! then the case is Clin. Ah, Dicky, this London is a sad place, a plain. Speak, what are you, sir? whence came sad, vicious place : I wish that I were in the you, and whither go you?

country again. And this brother of mine, I'm Clin. sen. Sir, I came from Russel-street, and sorry he's so great a rake: I had rather see him am going to the jubilee,

dead, than see him thus. Wife. You shall go to the gallows, you rogue. Dick. Aye, sir, he'll spend his whole estate at Con. Away with him! away with him to this same jubilee. Who d’ye think lives at this Newgate, straight!

same jubilee? Clin. sen. I shall go to the jubilee, now, in Clin. Who, pray? deed.

Dick. The Pope. [Ereunt. Clin. The devil he does ! my brother go to the

place where the Pope dwells! he's bewitched,

sure ! Re-enter WilDair and STANDARD. Wild. In short, colonel, 'tis all nonsense : fight

Enter Tom ERRAND in CLINCHER senior's for a woman ! hard by is the lady's house; if you

clothes. please we'll wait on her together : you shall draw Dick. Indeed, I believe he is, for he's strange your sword; I'll draw my snuff-box : you shall

ly altered. produce your wounds received in war; I'll relate

Clin. Altered! why, he looks like a Jesuit alinine by Cupid's dart: you shall look big; I'll ready. ogle: you shall swear; I'll sigh: you shall sa, Err. This lace will sell. What a blockhead sa, and I'll coupée; and if she flies not to my was the fellow to trust me with his coat! If I arms like a hawk to its perch, my dancing-mas- can get cross the garden, down to the water-side, ter deserves to be damned.

I am pretty secure. Stand. With the generality of women, I grant

[Aside. you, these arts may prevail.

Clin. Brother! Alaw! Oh, gemini ! Are you Wild. Generality of women! Why, there my brother?

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