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DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

LOVEMORE.
SIR BRILLIANT FASHION.
SIR BASHFUL CONSTANT.
WILLIAM.
SIDEBOARD.

The Widow BELMOUR.
Mrs. LOVEMORE.
LADY CONSTANT.
MUSLIN.
MIGNIONET.
FURNISH.

SCENE-London.

THE

WAY TO KEEP HIM.

ACT I.

Scene . I. -A Room in Lovemore's House.

WILLIAM at cards with a brother Servant.
Will. A plague on it!—I've turn’d out my game:
Is forty-seven good?

Serv. Equal.
Will. A plague go with it-tearse to a queen-
Sero. Equal

Will. I've ruin'd my game, and be hang'd to me. I don't believe there's a footman in England plays with worse luck than myself.–Four aces is fourteen !

Serv. That's hard :--cruel, by Jupiter!
Will. Four aces is fourteen-fifteen.

[Plays. Sero. There's your equality. Will. Very well-sixteen-[Plays.] seventeen

[Plays. Enter Muslin. Mus. There's a couple of you,

indeed !-You're, s fond of the vices of your betters, that you're scarce out of your beds, when you must pretend to imitate them and their ways, forsooth. Will. Proythee, be quiet, woman, do-Eighteen

(Plays.

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Ñ us. Set you up, indeed, Mr. Coxcomb-
Will. Nineteen !-Clubs-

(Plays. Mus. Have done with your foolery, will ye? and send my lady word

Will. Hold your tongue, Mrs. Muslin, you'll put us out.-What shall I play ?-I'll tell you, woman, my master and I desire to have nothing to say to you or your lady.-Twenty-Diamonds!

[Plays. Mus. But I tell you, Mr. Saucebox, that my lady desires to know when your master came home last night, and how he is this morning?

Will. Proythee, be quiet: I and my master are resolved to be teas'd no more by you. And so, Mrs. Go-between, you may return as you came.—What the devil shall I play?- We'll have nothing to do with you, I tell you

Mus. You'll have nothing to do with us !-But you shall have to do with us, or I'll know the reason why.

(Snatches the cards out of his hands. Will. Death and fury! This meddling woman has destroyed my whole game.

Mus. Now, sir, will you be so obliging as to send an answer to her questions-How and when your rakehelly master came home last night?

Will. I'll tell you what, Mrs. Muslin,-you and my master will be the death of me at last; that's what you will.-In the name of charity, what do you

both take me for? Whatever appearances may be, I am but of mortal mould: nothing supernatural about me.

Mus. Upon my word, Mr. Powderpuff!

Will. I have not indeed—And so, do you see, flesh and blood can't hold it always I can't be for ever a slave to your whims, and your second-hand airs.

Mus. Second-hand airs !

Will. Yes, second-hand airs !-You take them at your ladies' toilets with their cast gowns, and so you descend to us with them.-And then, on the other hand, there's

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