Humph. How, sir, not be at all! for what rea- | my mask; with that the gentleman, throwing off son is it carried on in appearauce? his own, appeared to be my son, and, in his conSir J. Bev. Honest Humphrey, have patience, cern for me, tore off that of the nobleman: at and I'll tell thee all in order. I have myself, in this they seized each other, the company called some part of my life, lived, indeed, with freedom, the guards, and, in the surprize, the lady swooned but I hope without reproach. Now, I thought li- away: upon which my son quitted his adversary, berty would be as little injurious to my son : and had now no care but of the lady-when therefore, as soon as he grew towards man, I in-raising her in his arms, Art thou gone,' cried he, dulged him in living after his own manner. I for ever?-forbid it, Heaven!'-She revives at know not how otherwise to judge of his inclina- his known voice-and, with the most familiar, tion; for what can be concluded from a beha-though modest gesture, hangs in safety over his viour under restraint and fear? But what charms me above all expression, is, that my son has never, in the least action, the most distant hint or word, valued himself upon that great estate of his mother's, which, according to our marriage-the company. settlement, he has had ever since he came to age. Humph. No, sir; on the contrary, he seems afraid of appearing to enjoy it before you or any belonging to you. He is as dependent and resigned to your will, as if he had not a farthing but what must come from your immediate bounty. You have ever acted like a good and generous father, and he like an obedient and grateful son. shoulders, weeping, but wept as in the arms of one before whom she could give herself a loose, were she not under observation: while she hides her face in his neck, he carefully conveys her from Humph. I have observed this accident has dwelt upon you very strongly. Sir J. Bev. Her uncommon air, her noble modesty, the dignity of her person, and the occasion itself, drew the whole assembly together; and I soon heard it buzzed about she was the adopted daughter of a famous sea-officer, who had served in France. Now, this unexpected and public discovery of my son's so deep concern for her— Sir J. Bev. Nay, his carriage is so easy to all Humph. Was what, I suppose, alarmed Mr with whom he converses, that he is never assu-Sealand, in behalf of his daughter, to break off ming, never prefers himself to others, nor is ever the match? guilty of that rough sincerity which a man is not called to, and certainly disobliges most of his acquaintance. To be short, Humphrey, his reputation was so fair in the world, that old Sealand, the great India merchant, has offered his only daughter, and sole heiress to that vast estate of his, as a wife for him. You may be sure I made no difficulties; the match was agreed on, and this very day named for the wedding. Humph. What hinders the proceeding? Sir J. Bev. Don't interrupt me. You know I was, last Thursday, at the masquerade; my son, you may remember, soon found us out he knew his grandfather's habit, which I then wore; and though it was in the mode in the last age, yet the maskers, you know, followed us, as if we had been the most monstrous figures in that whole assembly. Sir J. Bev. You are right--he came to me yesterday, and said, he thought himself disengaged from the bargain, being credibly informed my son was already married, or worse, to the lady at the masquerade. I palliated matters, and insisted on our agreement; but we parted with little less than a direct breach between us. Humph. Well, sir, and what notice have you taken of all this to my young master? Sir J. Bev. That's what I wanted to debate with you---I have said nothing to him yet---But look ye, Humphrey, if there is so much in this amour of his, that he denies, upon my summons, to marry, I have cause enough to be offended; and then, by my insisting upon his marrying today, I shall know how far he is engaged to this lady in masquerade, and from thence only shall be able to take my measures; in the mean time, Humph. I remember, indeed, a young man of I would have you find out how far that rogue, quality, in the habit of a clown, that was particu-his man, is let into his secret---he, I know, will larly troublesome. play tricks as much to cross me as to serve his Sir J. Bev. Right-he was too much what he seemed to be. You remember how impertinently he followed and teased us, and would know who we were. Humph. I know he has a mind to come into that particular. [Aside. Sir J. Bev. Ay, he followed us, till the gentleman, who led the lady in the Indian mantle, presented that gay creature to the rustic, and bid him (like Cymon in the fable) grow polite, by falling in love, and let that worthy old gentleman alone, meaning me. The clown was not reformed, but rudely persisted, and offered to force off master. mutual uneasiness. I am sure I have enough to do to be honest, and yet keep well with them both; but they know I love them, and that makes the task less painful, however. Oh, here's the prince of poor coxcombs, the representative of all the better fed than taught! Ho, ho, Tom! whither so gay and so airy this morning? Enter Tom, singing. Tom. Sir, we servants of single gentlemen are another kind of people than you domestic ordinary drudges that do business; we are raised above you: the pleasures of board-wages, taverndinners, and many a clear gain, vails, alas! you never heard or dreamt of. Humph. Thou hast follies and vices enough for a man of ten thousand a-year, though it is but as t'other day that I sent for you to town, to put you into Mr Sealand's family, that you might learn a little before I put you to my young master, who is too gentle for training such a rude thing as you were into proper obedience. You then pulled off your hat to every one you met in the street, like a bashful, great, awkward cub, as you were. But your great oaken cudgel, when you were a booby, became you much better than that dangling stick at your button, now you are a fop, that's fit for nothing except it hangs there to be ready for your master's hand when you are impertinent. Tom. Uncle Humphrey, you know my master scorns to strike his servants; you talk as if the world was now just as it was when my old master and you were in your youth-when you went to dinner because it was so much a clock, when the great blow was given in the hall at the pantry-door, and all the family came out of their holes, in such strange dresses, and formal faces, as you see in the pictures in our long gallery in the country. Humph. Why, you wild rogue! Tom. You could not fall to your dinner, till a formal fellow, in a black gown, said something over the meat, as if the cook had not made it ready enough. Humph. Sirrah, who do you prate after?despising men of sacred characters! I hope you never heard my young master talk so like a profligate! Tom. Sir, I say you put upon me when I first came to town about being orderly, and the doctrine of wearing shams to make linen last clean a fortnight, keeping my clothes fresh, and wearing a frock within doors. Humph. Sirrah, I gave you those lessons, because I supposed, at that time, your master and you might have dined at home every day, and cost you nothing; then you might have made you a good family servant; but the gang you have frequented since at chocolate-houses and taverns, in a continual round of noise and extravagance Voc. II. Tom. I don't know what you heavy inmates call noise and extravagance; but we gentlemen, who are well fed, and cut a figure, sir, think it a fine life, and that we must be very pretty fellows, who are kept only to be looked at. Humph. Very well, sir-I hope the fashion of being lewd and extravagant, despising of decency and order, is almost at an end, since it is arrived at persons of your quality. Tom. Master Humphrey, ha, ha! you were an unhappy lad to be sent up to town in such queer days as you were. Why now, sir, the lacquies are the men of pleasure of the age; the top gamesters; and many a laced coat about town, have had their education in our party-coloured regiment. We are false lovers, have a taste of music, poetry, billet-doux, dress, politics, ruin damsels; and when we are weary of this lewd town, and have a mind to take up, whip into our masters' wigs and linen, and marry fortunes. Humph. Hey day! Tom. Nay, sir, our order is carried up to the highest dignities and distinctions: step but into the Painted Chamber-and, by our titles, you'd take us all for men of quality—then, again, come down to the Court of Requests, and you shall see us all laying our broken heads together, for the good of the nation; and though we never carry a question nemine contradicente, yet this I can say with a safe conscience, (and I wish every gentleman of our cloth could lay his hand upon his heart, and say the same) that I never took so much as a single mug of beer for my vote in all my life. Humph. Sirrah, there is no enduring your extravagance; I'll hear you prate no longer: I wanted to see you to inquire how things go with your master, as far as you understand them: I suppose he knows he is to be married to-day? Tom. Ay, sir, he knows it, and is dressed as gay as the sun; but, between you and I, my dear! he has a very heavy heart under all that gaiety. As soon as he was dressed, I retired, but overheard him sigh in the most heavy manner. He walked thoughtfully to and fro in the room, then went into his closet: when he came out, he gave ine this for his mistress, whose maid you know Humph. Is passionately fond of your fine per son. Tom. The poor fool is so tender, and loves to hear me talk of the world, and the plays, operas, and ridottes for the winter, the Parks and Bellsize for our summer diversions; and lard! says she, you are so wild-but you have a world of humour. Humph. Coxcomb! Well, but why don't you run with your master's letter to Mrs Lucinda, as he ordered you? Tom. Because Mrs Lucinda is not so easily come at as you think for. Humph. Not easily come at! why, sir, are not her fatlier and my old master agreed that she and 4 I Bet. And so you resolve to die a maid, do you, madam? Mrs Love. Or have it in my power to make the man I love master of my fortune. Bet. Then you don't like the colonel so well as I thought you did, madam, or you would not take such a resolution. Mrs Love. It is because I do like him, Betty, that I do take such a resolution. Bet. Why, do you expect, madam, the colonel can work miracles? Is it possible for him to marry you with the consent of all your guardians? Mrs Love. Or he must not marry me at all: and so I told him; and he did not seem displeased with the news. He promised to set me free; and I, on that condition, promised to make him master of that freedom. Bet. Well! I have read of enchanted castles, ladies delivered from the chains of magic, giants killed, and monsters overcome; so that I shall be the less surprised if the colonel should conjure you out of the power of your four guardians; if he does, I am sure he deserves your for tune. Mrs Love. And shall have it, girl, if it were ten times as much-For I'll ingenuously confess to thee, that I do like the colonel above all the men I ever saw there's something so jantée in a soldier, a kind of je ne sçai quoi air, that makes them more agreeable than the rest of mankind. They command regard, as who shall say, We are your defenders. We preserve your beauties from the insults of rude and unpolished foes, and ought to be preferred before those lazy, indolent mortals, who, by dropping into their fathers' estates, set up their coaches, and think to rattle themselves into our affections. Bet. Nay, madam, I confess that the army has engrossed all the prettiest fellows-a laced coat and a feather have irresistible charms. Mrs Love. But the colonel has all the beauties of the mind, as well as the body. O all ye powers that favour happy lovers, grant that he may be mine! Thou god of love, if thou be'st aught but name, assist my Fainwell! Point all thy darts to aid his just design, [Exeunt. ACT II. SCENE I-The Park. Enter COLONEL, finely drest, three Footmen after him. Col. So, now if I can but meet this beau! Egad! Methinks, I cut a smart figure, and have as much of the tawdry air as any Italian count or French marquis of them all. Sure, I shall know this knight again-Ah! Yonder he sits, making love to a mask, i'faith! I'll walk up the Mall, and come down by him. [Exit COLONEL. Scene draws, and discovers SIR PHILIP upon a bench, with a woman masked. Sir Phi. Well, but, my dear, are you really constant to your keeper? Wom. Yes, really, sir. Hey-day! Who comes yonder? He cuts a mighty figure. Sir Phi. Ha! A stranger, by his equipage keeping so close at his heels. He has the appearance of a man of quality. Positively French, by his dancing air! Wom. He crosses, as if he meant to sit down here. Sir Phi. He has a mind to make love to thee, child. Enter COLONEL, and seats himself upon the Wom. It will be to no purpose, if he does. can deny any thing to so fine a gentleman, ma- Sir Phi. I am positively of your mind, sir; for creatures of her function seldom penetrate beyond the pocket. Wom. Creatures of your composition, have, indeed, generally more in their pockets, than in their heads. [Aside. Sir Phi. Pray, what says your watch? mine is down. [Pulling out his watch. Col. I want thirty-six minutes of twelve, sir. [Puts up his watch, and takes out his snuff bor. Sir Phi. May I presume, sir? [Presenting the bor. Sir Phi. He speaks good English--though he must be a foreigner.-[Aside.]-This snuff is extremely good-and the box prodigious fine; the work is French, I presume, sir? Col. I bought it in Paris, sir-I do think the workmanship pretty neat. Sir Phi. Neat! 'tis exquisitely fine, sir. Pray, sir, if I may take the liberty of inquiring-What country is so happy to claim the birth of the finest gentleman in the universe? France, I pre sume? Col. Then you don't think me an Englishman? Sir J. Bev. My son, sir, is a discreet and sober | Now, in plain terms, sir, I shall not care to have gentleman. my poor girl turned a grazing, and that must be the case when Mr Sea. Sir, I never saw a man that wenched soberly and discreetly that ever left it off-the decency observed in the practice hides, from the sinner even, the iniquity of it: they pursue it, not that their appetites hurry them away, but, I warrant you, because 'tis their opinion they may do it. Sir J. Bev. Were what you suspect a truthdo you design to keep your daughter a virgin, till you find a man unblemished that way? Sir J. Bev. But pray consider, sir, my sonMr Sea. Look you, sir, I'll make the matter short. This unknown lady, as I told you, is all the objection I have to him: but one way or other he is or has been certainly engaged to her-I am therefore resolved this very afternoon to visit her: now, from her behaviour or appearance, I shall soon be let into what I may fear or hope for. Sir J. Bev. Sir, I am very confident there can be nothing inquired into, relating to my son, that will not, upon being understood, turn to his advantage. Mr Sea. Sir, as much a cit as you take me for-I know the town and the world-and give me leave to say, that we merchants are a species of gentry that have grown into the world this last century, and are as honourable, and almost as Mr Sea. I hope that as sincerely as you beuseful, as you landed folks, that have always lieve it-Sir John Bevil, when I am satisfied in thought yourselves so much above us; for your this great point, if your son's conduct answers trading, forsooth! is extended no farther than a the character you give him, I shall wish your alload of hay, or a fat ox-You are pleasant peo-liance more than that of any gentleman in Great ple, indeed! because you are generally bred up to be lazy, therefore, I warrant you, industry is dishonourable! Sir J. Bev. Be not offended, sir; let us go back to our point, Mr Sea. Oh! not at all offended-but I don't love to leave any part of the account unclosedLook you, sir John, comparisons are odious, and more particularly so on occasions of this kind, when we are projecting races that are to be made out of both sides of the comparisons. Sir J. Bev. But my son, sir, is, in the the world, a gentleman of merit. eye of Mr Sea. I own to you I think him so-But, sir John, I am a man exercised and experienced in chances and disasters; I lost in my earlier years a very fine wife, and, with her, a poor little infant: this makes me perhaps over cautious to preserve the second bounty of Providence to me, and be as careful as I can of this child. You'll pardon me; my poor girl, sir, is as valuable to me as your boasted son to you. Sir J. Beo. Why, that's one very good reason, Mr Sealand, why I wish my son had her. Mr Sea. There is nothing but this strange lady here, this incognita, that can be objected to him. Here and there a man falls in love with an artful creature, and gives up all the motives of life to that one passion. Sir J. Bev. A man of my son's understanding cannot be supposed to be one of them. Mr Sea. Very wise men have been so enslaved; And while abroad so prodigal the dolt is, Britain; and so your servant. [Erit SEALAND. Sir J. Bev. He is gone in a way but barely civil; but his great wealth, and the merit of his only child, the heiress of it, are not to be lost for a little peevishness Humph. Sir, you may trust his discretion; I am sure you may. prepos Sir J. Bev. Why, I do believe I may, and yet I'm in a thousand fears when I lay this vast wealth before me. When I'consider his sessions, either generous to a folly in an honourable love, or abandoned past redemption in a vicious one, and from the one or the other his insensibility to the fairest prospect towards doubling our estate-a father, who knows how useful wealth is, and how necessary even to those who despise it, I say a father, Humphrey, a father cannot bear it. grow incapable of taking any resolution in your Humph. Be not transported, sir; you will perplexity. Sir J. Bev. Yes, as angry as I am with him, I would not have him surprized in any thing.--This mercantile rough man may go grossly into the examination of this matter, and talk to the gentlewoman so as to Humph. No, I hope not in an abrupt manner. know any thing of her, or of him, or of any Sir J. Bev. No, I hope not! Why, dost thou thing of it, or all of it? that I told him this very day, you had reason to Humph. My dear master! I know so much, be secretly out of humour about her. Sir J. Bev. Did you go so far? Well, what said he to that? give me leave, I would endeavour to avert that curse. Sir Phi. As to the lady, she'd gladly be rid of us at any rate, I believe; but here's the mischief! he who marries Miss Lovely, must have the consent of us all four--or not a penny of her portion.---For my part, I shall never approve of any but a man of figure,---and the rest are not only averse to cleanliness, but have each a peculiar taste to gratify.---For my part, I declare I would prefer you to all the men I ever saw. Col. And I her to all women-- Sir Phi. I assure you, Mr Fainwell, I am for marrying her; for I hate the trouble of a guardian, especially among such wretches; but resolve never to agree to the choice of any one of them, ---and I fancy they'll be even with me, for they never came into any proposal of mine yet. Col. I wish I had your leave to try them, sir Philip. Sir Phi. With all my soul, sir; I can refuse a person of your appearance nothing. Col. Sir, I am infinitely obliged to you. Sir Phi. The only point in which we differ--But you are master of so many qualifications, that I can excuse one fault; for I must think it a fault in a fine gentleman; and that you are such, I'll give it under my hand. Col. I wish you'd give me your consent to marry Mrs Lovely under your hand, sir Philip. Sir Phi. I'll do't, if you'll step into St James's Coffee-house, where we may have pen and inkthough I can't foresee what advantage my consent will be to you, without you could find a way to get the rest of the guardians. But I'll introduce you, however: she is now at a Quaker's, where I carried her this morning, when you saw us in Gracechurch-Street.—I assure you she has an odd ragout of guardians, as you will find when you hear the characters, which I'll endeavour to give you as we go along.-Hey! Pierre, Jaque, Renno-where are you all, scoundrels?- -Order the chariots to St James's Coffee-house. Col. Le Noir, la Brun, la Blanc.-Morbleu, ou sont ces coquins la? Allons, Monsieur le Chevalier. Sir Phi. Ah! Pardonnez moi, monsieur. Col. Not one step, upon my soul, sir Philip. Sir Phi. The best bred man in Europe, positively! Eurof Exeunt. SCENE II-Changes to OBADIAN PRIM'S house. Enter MRS LOVELY, followed by MRS PRIM. Mrs Prim. Then, thou wilt not obey me? and thou dost really think those fallals become thee? Mrs Love. I do, indeed. Mrs Prim. Now will I be judged by all sober people, if I don't look more like a modest woman than thou dost, Anne. Mrs Love. More like a hypocrite you mean, Mrs Prim. Mrs Prim. Ah! Anne, Anne, that wicked Philip Modelove will undo thee-Satan so fills thy heart with pride, during the three months of his guardianship, that thou becomest a stumbling block to the upright. Mrs Love. Pray, who are they? Are the pinched cap and formal hood the emblems of sanctity? Does your virtue consist in your dress, Mrs Prim? Mrs Prim. It doth not consist in cut hair, spotted face, and a bare neck.-Oh the wickedness of the generation! The primitive women knew not the abomination of hooped petticoats. Mrs Love. No; nor the abomination of cant neither. Don't tell me, Mrs Prim, don't. I know you have as much pride, vanity, self-conceit, and ambition among you, couched under that formal habit, and sanctified countenance, as the proudest of us all; but the world begins to see your prudery. Mrs Prim. Prudery! What! do they invent new words as well as new fashions? Ah! poor fantastic age, I pity thee-Poor deluded Anne, which dost thou think most resembles the saint, and which the sinner, thy dress or mine? Thy naked bosom allureth the eye of the by-stander, -encourageth the frailty of human-nature-and corrupteth the soul with evil longings. Mrs Love. And, pray, who corrupted your son Tobias with evil longings? Your maid Tabitha wore a handkerchief, and yet he made the saint a sinner. Mrs Prim. Well, well, spit thy malice. I confess Satan did buffet my son Tobias, and my servant Tabitha: the evil spirit was at that time too strong, and they both became subject to its workings, not from any outward provocation, but from an inward call; he was not tainted with the rottenness of the fashions, nor did his eyes take in the drunkenness of beauty. Mrs Love. No! that's plainly to be seen. Mrs Prim. Tabitha is one of the faithful; he fell not with a stranger. Mrs Love. So! Then you hold wenching no crime, provided it be within the pale of your own tribe.- -You are an excellent casuist, truly! Enter OBADIAH PRIM. Oba. Prim. Not stripped of thy vanity yet, Anne!--Why dost thou not make her put it off, Sarah? Mrs Prim. She will not do it. Oba. Prim. Verily, thy naked breast troubleth my outward man; I pray thee hide them, Anne: put on an handkerchief, Anne Lovely. Mrs Love. I hate handkerchiefs when 'tis not cold weather, Mr Prim. Mrs Prim. I have seen thee wear a handker |