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habits.

Dug. SIRRAH, What's a clock?
Pet. Turned of eleven, sir.

Pet. And I four.

Dug. How now, sir, at your old travelling faEnter DUGARD, and his man PETIT, in riding miliarity! When abroad, you had some freedom for want of better company; but among my friends at Paris, pray remember your distance Begone, sir! [Erit PETIT.] This fellow's wit was necessary abroad, but he's too cunning for a domestic; I must dispose of him some way else.Who's here? Old Mirabell, and my sister! my dearest sister!

Dug. No more! We have rid a swinging pace from Nemours, since two this morning! Petit, run to Rousseau's, and bespeak a dinner at a louis-d'or a-head, to be ready by one.

Pet. How many will there be of you, sir? Dug. Let me see; Mirabell one, Duretete two, myself, three

Enter OLD MIRABELL and ORIANA.
Ori. My brother! Welcome,

Dug. Monsieur Mirabell! I'm heartily glad to

see you.

Old Mir. Honest Mr Dugard! by the blood of the Mirabells, I'm your most humble servant.

Dug. Why, sir, you've cast your skin, sure; you're brisk and gay; lusty health about you; no sign of age but your silver hairs.

A

strong as Hercules, life and spirit in abundance. Before Gad, I don't wonder at these men of qua lity, that their own wives can't serve them. Louis-d'or a head! 'Tis enough to stock the whole nation with bastards, 'tis faith. Mr Dugard, I leave you with your sister. [Erit OLD MIR. Dug. Well, sister, I need not ask you how you Old Mir. Silver hairs! Then, they are quick-do, your looks resolve me; fair, tall, well-shaped; silver hairs, sir. Whilst I have golden pockets, you're almost grown out of my remembrance. let my hairs be silver an they will. Adsbud, sir, Ori. Why, truly, brother, I look pretty well, I can dance, and sing, and drink, and——no, Í | tbank nature and my toilet; I have 'scaped the can't wench. But, Mr Dugard, no news of my jaundice, green-sickness, and the small-pox; I son Bob in all your travels? eat three meals a day, am very merry, when up, and sleep soundly, when I'm down.

Dug. Your son's come home, sir.

Old Mir. Come home! Bob come home! By the blood of the Mirabells, Mr Dugard, what say ye? Ori. Mr Mirabell returned, sir!

Dug. He's certainly come, and you may see him within this hour or two.

Old Mir. Swear it, Mr Dugard; presently

swear it.

Dug. But, sister, you remember, that upon my going abroad, you would chuse this old gentleman for your guardian; he's no more related to our family, than Prester John, and I have no reason to think you mistrusted my management of your fortune: therefore, pray be so kind as to tell me, without reservation, the true cause of

Dug. Sir, he came to town with me this morn-making such a choice? ing; I left him at the Bagnieurs, being a little disordered after riding, and I shall see him again presently.

Old Mir. What! And he was ashamed to ask a blessing with his boots on? A nice dog! Well, and how fares the young rogue, ha?

Dug. A fine gentleman, sir. He'll be his own

messenger.

Old Mir. A fine gentleman! But is the rogue like me, still?

Dug. Why, yes, sir; he's very like his mother, and as like you as most modern sons are to their fathers.

Old Mir. Why, sir, don't you think that I begat him?

Ori. Look'e, brother, you were going a ramb ling, and 'twas proper, lest I should go a rambling too, that somebody should take care of me. Old monsieur Mirabell is an honest gentleman, was our father's friend, and has a young lady in his house, whose company I like, and who has chosen him for her guardian, as well as I.

Dug. Who, mademoiselle Bisarre?

Ori. The same; we live merrily together, without scandal or reproach; we make much of the old gentleman between us, and he takes care of us; we eat what we like; go to bed, when we please; rise, when we will; all the week we dance and sing, and, upon Sundays, go first to church, and then to the play. Now, brother, Dug. Why, yes, sir; you married his mother, besides these motives for chusing this gentleman and he inherits your estate. He's very like for you, my guardian, perhaps I had some private reaupon my word. Ori. And pray, brother, what's become of his honest companion, Duretete?

Sons.

Dug. Not so private as you imagine, sister; your love to young Mirabell's no secret, I can assure you, but so public, that all your friends are ashamed on't.

Dug. Who, the captain? the very same, he went abroad; he's the only Frenchman I ever knew, that could not change. Your son, Mr Mi- Ori. O' my word, then, my friends are very rabell, is more obliged to nature for that fellow's bashful; though I'm afraid, sir, that those peocomposition, than for his own for he's more|ple are not ashamed enough at their own crimes, happy in Duretete's folly, than his own wit. In who have so many blushes to spare for the faults short, they are as inseparable as finger and of their neighhours. thumb; but the first instance in the world, I believe, of opposition in friendship.

Dug. Aye, but, sister, the people sayOri. Pshaw, hang the people! they'll talk Old Mir. Very well; will he be home to din-treason, and prophane their Maker; must we, ner, think ye?

therefore, infer, that our king is a tyrant, and re

Dug. Sir, he has ordered me to bespeak a din-ligion a cheat? Look'e, brother, their court of ner for us at Rousseau's, at a Louis-d'or a head.

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enquiry is a tavern, and their informer, claret:
they think as they drink, and swallow reputa-
tions like loches; a lady's health goes briskly
round with the glass, but her honour is lost in the
toast.

Dug. Aye, but, sister, there is still some-
Ori. If there be something, brother, 'tis none

thing

2 X

of the people's something; marriage is my thing, and I'll stick to't.

Dug. Marriage! Young Mirabell marry! He'll build churches sooner. Take heed, sister, though your honour stood proof to his homebred assaults: you must keep a stricter guard for the future he has now got the foreign air, and the Italian softness; his wit's improved by converse; his behaviour finished by observation; and his assurance confirmed by success. Sister, I can assure you, he has made his conquests; and 'tis a plague upon your sex, to be the soonest deceived by those very men, that you know have been false to others.

Ori. Then why will you tell me of his conquests? for, I must confess, there is no title to a woman's favour so engaging as the repute of a handsome dissimulation; there is something of a pride to see a fellow lie at our feet, that has triumphed over so many; and then, I don't know, we fancy he must have something extraordinary about him to please us, and that we have something engaging about us to secure him; so we can't be quiet till we put ourselves upon the lay of being both disappointed.

Dug. But then, sister, he's as fickle

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SCENE II-A tavern, discovering young MI-
RABELL and DURETETE rising from table.

Mir. Welcome to Paris once more, my dear captain; we have eat heartily, drank roundly, paid plentifully, and let it go for once. I liked every thing but our women, they looked so lean and tawdry, poor creatures! 'tis a sure sign the army is not paid. Give me the plump Venetian, brisk and sanguine, that smiles upon me like the glowing sun, and meets my lips like sparkling wine, her person shining as the glass, and spirit like the foaming liquor.

Dur. Ah, Mirabell! Italy I grant you; but for our women here in France, they are such thin brawn-fallen jades, a man may as well make a bed-fellow of a cane chair.

Ori. For God's sake, brother, tell me no more of his faults; for, if you do, I shall run mad for him say no more, sir; let me but get him into Mir. France! A light unseasoned country, the bands of matrimony, I'll spoil his wandering, nothing but feathers, foppery, and fashions; I warrant him; I'll do his business that way, ne- we're fine indeed, so are our coach-horses: men ver fear. say we're courtiers; men abuse us; that we are Dug. Well, sister, I won't pretend to under-wise and politic, non credo seigneur : that our stand the engagements between you and your women have wit; parrots, mere parrots. Assulover; I expect, when you have need of my rance and a good memory sets them up: there's counsel or assistance, you will let me know more nothing on this side the Alps worth my humble of your affairs. Mirabell is a gentleman, and, as service t'ye-Ha, Poma la Santa! Italy for my far as my honour and interest can reach, you money; their customs, gardens, buildings, paintmay command me to the furtherance of yourings, music, policies, wine and women! the parahappiness in the mean time, sister, I have a great mind to make you a present of another humble servant; a fellow, that I took up at Lyons, who has served me honestly ever since.

Ori. Then, why will you part with him? Dug. He has gained so insufferably on my good humour, that he's grown too familiar; but the fellow's cunning, and may be serviceable to you in your affair with Mirabell. Here he

comes.

Enter PETIT.

Well, sir, have you been at Rousseau's?

Pet. Yes, sir; and who should I find there, but Mr Mirabell and the captain, hatching as warmly over a tub of ice, as two hen-pheasants over a brood-they would not let me bespeak any thing, for they had dined before I came.

Dug. Come, sir, you shall serve my sister; I shall still continue kind to you; and, if your lady recommends your diligence upon trial, I'll use my interest to advance you; you have sense enough to expect preferment. Here, sirrah,

dise of the world; not pestered with a parcel of precise, old gouty fellows, that would debar their children every pleasure, that they themselves are past the sense of: commend me to the Italian familiarity: Here, son, there's fifty crowns, go pay your whore her week's allowance.

Dur. Aye, these are your fathers for you, that understand the necessities of young men; not like our musty dads, who, because they cannot fish themselves, would muddy the water, and spoil the sport of them that can. But now you talk of the plump, what d'ye think of a Dutch woman?

Mir. A Dutch woman's too compact; nay, every thing among them is so. A Dutch man is thick; a Dutch woman is squab; a Dutch horse is round; a Dutch dog is short; a Dutch ship is broad-bottomed: and, in short, one would swear the whole product of the country were cast in the same mould with their cheeses.

Dur. Aye, but, Mirabell, you have forgot the English ladies.

Mir. The women of England were excellent, did they not take such insufferable pains to ruin

what nature has made so incomparably well; they would be delicate creatures, indeed, could they but thoroughly arrive at the French mien, or entirely let it alone; for they only spoil a very good air of their own, by an awkward imitation of ours; their parliaments, and our tailors, give laws to the three kingdoms. But come, Duretete, let us mind the business in hand; mistresses we must have, and must take up with the manufacture of the place, and, upon a competent diligence, we shall find those in Paris shall match the Italians from top to toe.

Dur. Aye, Mirabell, you will do well enough, but what will become of your friend? you know I am so plaguy bashful, so naturally an ass upon these occasions, that

Mir. Pshaw! you must be bolder, man: travel three years, and bring home such a baby as bashfulness! a great lusty fellow! and a soldier! fy upon it!

Dur. Look'e, sir, I can visit, and I can ogle a little-as thus, or thus, now, Then, I can kiss abundantly, and make a shift to-but if they chance to give me a forbidding look, as some women, you know, have a devilish cast with their eyes or if they cry-what d'ye mean? what d'ye take me for? fye, sir, remember who I am, sir-a person of quality to be used at this rate! 'egad, I'm struck as flat as a frying-pan!

Mir. Words o' course! never mind them: turn you about upon your heel with a jantée air; hum out the end of an old song; cut a cross caper, and at her again,

Dur. [Imitates him.] No, hang it, 'twill never do. Oons, what did my father mean by sticking me up in an university? or to think that I should gain any thing by my head in a nation, whose genius lies all in their heels! well, if ever I come to have children of my own, they shall have the education of the country; they shall learn to dance before they can walk, and be taught to sing before they can speak.

Mir, Come, come, throw off that childish humour; put on assurance, there's no avoiding it; stand all hazards, thou'rt a stout lusty fellow, and hast a good estate; look bluff, hector, you have a good side-box face, a pretty impudent face; so, that's pretty well. This fellow went abroad like an ox, and is returned like an ass.

[Aside. Dur. Let me see now, how I look. Pulls out a pocket-glass, and looks in it.]—A side-box face, say you! 'egad, I don't like it, Mirabell. Fy, sir, don't abuse your friends; I could not wear such a face for the best countess in Christendom.

Mir. Why can't you, blockhead, as well as I Dur. Why, thou hast impudence to set a good face upon any thing; I would change half my gold for half thy brass, with all my heart. Who comes here? Odso, Mirabell, your father!

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Mir. Not a farthing, sir.

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Old Mir. Why, then I won't gi' thee a souse.. Mir. I did but jest, here's ten pistoles. Old Mir. Why, then here's ten more; I love to be charitable to those, that don't want it: well, and how d'ye like Italy, my boy?

Mir. Oh, the garden of the world, sir; Rome, Naples, Venice, Milan, and a thousand others— all fine.

Old Mir. Aye, say you so! and, they say, that Chiari is very fine, too.

Dur. Indifferent, sir, very indifferent; a very scurvy air, the most unwholesome to a French constitution in the world.

Mir. Pshaw, nothing on't; these rascally Gazeteers have misinformed you.

Old Mir. Misinformed me! Oons, sir, were not we beaten there?

Mir. Beaten, sir! the French beaten ! Old Mir. Why, how was it, pray, sweet sir? Mir. Sir, the captain will tell you. Dur, No, sir, your son will tell you. Mir. The captain was in the action, sir. Dur. Your son saw more than I, sir, for he was a looker on.

Old Mir, Confound you both, for a brace of cowards! here are no Germans to over-hear you: why don't ye tell me how it was?

Mir. Why, then, you must know, that we marched up a body of the finest, bravest, welldressed fellows in the universe; our cominanders at the head of us, all lace and feather, like so many beaux at a ball-I don't believe there was a man of them but could dance a charmèr, inorbleau.

Old Mir. Dance! very well, pretty fellows,

faith!

Mir. We capered up to their very trenches, and there saw peeping over a parcel of scarecrow, olive-coloured gun-powder fellows, as ugly as the devil.

Dur. 'Egad, I shall never forget the looks of them, while I have breath to fetch.

Mir, They were, so civil, indeed, as to welcome us with their cannon; but, for the rest, we found them such unmannerly, rude, unsociable dogs, that we grew tired of their company, and so we e'en danced back again.

Old Mer. And did ye all come back?

Mir. No, two or three thousand of us staid behind.

Old Mir. Why, Bob, why?

Mir. Pshaw-because they could not come that night. But come, sir, we were talking of something else; pray, how does your lovely charge, the fair Oriana?

Old Mir. Ripe, sir, just ripe: you'll find it better engaging with her than with the Germans, let me tell you. And what would you say, my young Mars, if I had a Venus for thee, too?Come, Bob, your apartment is ready, and pray let your friend be my guest, too; you shall command the house between ye, and I'll be as merry as the best of you.

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Old Mir. Where's my wenches? where's my two little girls? Eh? Have a care, look to your

a coming. Well, which of you two will be my daughter-in-law, now? Bisarre, Bisarre, what say you, mad-cap? Mirabell is a pure wild fellow. Bis. I like him the worse.

Bis. Um before that any young, lying, swear-selves; faith, they're a coming, the travellers are ing, flattering, rakchelly fellow should play such tricks with me, I would wear my teeth to the stumps with lime and chalk. O, the devil take all your Cassandras and Cleopatras for me!Prithee, mind your airs, modes, and fashions; your stays, gowns, and furbelows. Hark'e, my dear, have you got home your furbelowed smocks yet?

Ori. Prithee, be quiet, Bisarre; you know I can be as mad as you, when this Mirabell is out my head.

of

Old Mir. You lie, hussey, you like him the better, indeed you do: What say you, my t'other little filbert? eh?

Ori. I suppose the gentleman will chuse for himself, sir.

Old Mir. Why, that's discrectly said; and so he shall.

Bis. Pshaw! would he were out, or in, or some way, to make you easy. I warrant, now, Enter MIRABELL and DURETETE. They salute you'll play the fool, when he comes, and say you love him; ch!

Ori. Most certainly-I can't dissemble, Bisarre besides, 'tis past that, we're contracted.

Bis. Contracted! alack-a-day, poor thing!— What, have you changed rings, or broken an old broad-piece between you! Hark'e, child, han't you broke something else between ye?

Ori. No, no, I can assure you.

Bis. Then, what d'ye whine for? Whilst I kept that in my power, I would make a fool of any fellow in France. Well, I must confess, I do love a little coquetting with all my heart! my business should be to break gold with my lover one hour, and crack my promise the next; he should find me one day with a prayer-book in my hand, and with a play-book another. He should have my consent to buy the weddingring, and the next moment would I laugh in his face.

Ori. O, my dear! were there no greater tie upon my heart, than there is upon my conscience,

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the ladies,

Hark'e, Bob, you shall marry one of these girls, sirrah.

Mir. Sir, I'll marry them both, if you please. Bis. [Aside.] He'll find that one may serve his turn.

Old Mir. Both! Why, you young dog, d'ye banter me? Come, sir, take your choice. Duretete, you shall have your choice, too; but Robin shall chuse first. Come, sir, begin.

Mir. Well, I an't the first son, that has madę his father's dwelling a bawdy house-let me see, Old Mir. Well! which d'ye like?

Mir. Both.

Old Mir. But which will you marry?
Mir. Neither.

Old Mir. Neither! Don't make me angry now, Bob; pray don't make me angry. Look'e, sirrah, if I don't dance at your wedding to-morrow, I shall be very glad to cry at your grave. Mir. That's a bull, father.

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