in this charitable city.—She's a woman, I hope? Free. For aught I know-but it had been as well for her had nature made her any other part of the creation. The man who keeps this house served her father; he is a very honest fellow, and may be of use to you: we'll send for him to take a glass with us: he'll give you her whole history, and 'tis worth your hear ing. Col. F. But may one trust him? Free. With your life: I have obligations enough upon him, to make him do any thing: I serve him with wine. [Rings. Col. F. Nay, I know him very well myself. I once used to frequent a club that was kept here. Enter DRAWER. Draw. Gentlemen, d'ye call? Col. F. Do you know any of this lady's dians, Freeman? Free. I know two of them very well. Enter SACKBUT. which he left to his daughter, provided she narried with the consent of her guardians; but that she might be sure never to do so, he left her in the care of four men, as opposite to each other as the four elements: each has his quarterly rule, and three months in the year she is obliged to be subject to each of their humours, and they are pretty different, I assure you.--She is just come from Bath. Col. F. 'Twas there I saw her. Sack. Ay, Sir, the last quarter was her beau guardian's. She appears in all public places during his reign. Col. F. She visited a lady who boarded in the same house with me: I liked her person, and found an opportunity to tell her so. She replied, she had no objection to mine; but if I could not reconcile contradictions I must not think of her, for that she was condemned to the caprice of four persons, who never yet agreed in any one thing, and she was obliged to please them all. [Exit. Free. Here comes one will give you an account of them all. Mr. Sackbut, we sent for you to take a glass with us. "Tis a maxim among the friends of the bottle, that as long as the master is in company, one may be sure of good wine. Sack. Sir, you shall be sure to have as good wine as you send in. Colonel, your most humble servant; you art welcome to town. Col. F. I thank you, Mr. Sackbut. Sack. I am as glad to see you as I should a hundred tun of French claret, custom free. My service to you, Sir. [Drinks.] You don't look so merry as you used to do; aren't you well, colonel? Free. He has got a woman in his head, landlord: can you help him? Sack. If 'tis in my power, I shan't scruple to serve my friend. Col. F. 'Tis one perquisite of your calling. Sack. Ay, at t'other end of the town, where you officers use, women are good forcers of trade: a well-customed house, a handsome bar-keeper, with clean obliging drawers, soon get the master an estate; but our citizens seldom do any thing but cheat within the walls. -But as to the lady, colonel, point you at particulars? or have you a good Champagne stomach? Are you in full pay, or reduced, colonel ? Col. F. Reduced, reduced, landlord! Free. To the miserable condition of a lover! Sack. Pish! that's preferable to half-pay: a woman's resolution may break before the peace: push her home, colonel, there's no parleying with the fair sex. Col. F. That must be a rare odd fellow. Suck. Another is a change-broker: a fellow that will out-lie the devil for the advantage of stock, and cheat his father that got him in a bargain: he is a great stickler for trade, and hates every man that wears a sword. Free. He is a great admirer of the Dutch management, and swears they understand trade better than any nation under the sun. Sack. The third is an old beau, that has May in his fancy and dress, but December in his face and his heels: he admires all new fashions, and those must be French; loves operas, balls, masquerades, and is always the most tawdry of the whole company on a birth-day. Col. F. These are pretty opposite one to another, truly; and the fourth, what is he, landlord? Sack. A very rigid quaker, whose quarter began this day. I saw Miss Lovely go in, not above two hours ago. Sir Philip set her down. What think you now, colonel? Is not the poor lady to be pitied? Col. F. Ay, and rescued too, landlord. Col. F. There is nothing impossible to a lover! What would not a man attempt for a fine woman and thirty thousand pounds? Besides, my honour is at stake: I promised to deliver her, and she bid me win her and wear her. Sack. That's fair, faith! Free. If it depended upon knight-errantry, Col. F. Were the lady her own mistress, II should not doubt your setting free the damhave some reasons to believe I should soon command in chief. Free. You know Miss Lovely, Mr. Sackbut? Sack. Know her! Ay, poor Nancy: I have carried her to school many a frosty morning. Alas! if she's the woman, I pity you, colonel: her father, my old master, was the most whimsical, out-of-the-way-tempered man I ever heard of, as you will guess by his last will and testament. This was his only child; and I have heard him wish her dead a thousand times. He died worth thirty thousand pounds, sel; but to have avarice, impertinence, hypocrisy, and pride, at once to deal with, requires more cunning than generally attends a man of honour. Col. F. My fancy tells me I shall come off with glory. I resolve to try, however. Do you know all the guardians, Mr. Sackbut? Sack. Very well; they all use my house. Col. F. And will you assist me, if occasion requires? Sack. In every thing I can, colonel. Col. F. First I'll attack my beau guardian: | where lives he? Sack. 'Faith, somewhere about St. James'; though to say in what street I cannot; but any chairman will tell you where Sir Philip Modelove lives. Free. Oh! you'll find him in the Park at eleven every day; at least I never pass through at that hour without seeing him there -But what do you intend? Col. F. To address him in his own way, and find what he designs to do with the lady. Free. And what then? Col. F. Nay, that I can't tell; but I shall take my measures accordingly. Sack. Well, 'tis a mad undertaking, in my mind; but here's to your success, colonel. [Drinks. Col. F. "Tis something out of the way, I confess; but fortune may chance to smile, and I succeed. Bold was the man who ventur'd first to sea, But the first vent'ring lovers bolder were. The path of love's a dark and dang'rous way, Without a land-mark or one friendly star. And he, that runs the risk, deserves the fair. [Exeunt. SCENE II.—An Apartment in PRIM's House. Enter Miss LOVELY, and her maid BETTY. Betty. Bless me, Madam! why do you fret and tease yourself so? This is giving them the advantage, with a witness. Betty. Then you don't like the colonel so well as I thought you did, Madam, or you would not take such a resolution. Miss L. It is because I do like him, Betty, that I do take such a resolution. Betty. 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? Miss L. 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. Betty. 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 shall conjure you out of the power of your four guardians: if he does, I am sure he deserves your fortune. Miss L. And shall have it, girl, if it were ten times as much-For I'll ingenuously confess to thee, that I do love the colonel above all the men I ever saw :-There's something so jantée in a soldier, a kind of je ne sçais quoi air, that makes them more agreeable than all the rest of mankind.-They command regard, preserve your beauties from the insults of rude as who shall say, We are your defenders; we and unpolished foes, and ought to be preferred before those lazy indolent mortals, who, by dropping into their father's estates, set up their coaches, and think to rattle themselves into our affections. Miss L. Must I be condemned all my life to Betty. Nay, Madam, I confess that the the preposterous humours of other people, and army has engrossed all the prettiest fellows pointed at by every boy in town!-Oh! IA laced coat and a feather have irresistible could tear my flesh and curse the hour I was charms. born. Isn't it monstrously ridiculous that they should desire to impose their quaking dress upon me at these years? When I was a child, no matter what they made me wear; but now Betty. I would resolve against it, Madam; I'd see 'em hanged before I'd put on the pinched cap again. Miss L. Then I must never expect one moment's ease: she has rung such a peal in my ears already, that I shan't have the right use of them this month.-What can I do? Betty. What can you not do, if you will but give your mind to it? Marry, Madam. Miss L. What! and have my fortune go to build churches and hospitals? Betty. Why, let it go.-If the colonel loves you, as he pretends, he'll marry you without a fortune, Madam; and I assure you a colonel's lady is no despicable thing. Miss L. So you would advise me to give up my own fortune, and throw myself upon the colonel's! Betty. I would advise you to make yourself easy, Madam. Miss L. That's not the way, I'm sure. No, no, girl, there are certain ingredients to be mingled with matrimony, without which I may as well change for the worse as the better. When the woman has fortune enough to make the man happy, if he has either honour or good manners, he'll make her easy. Love makes but a slovenly figure in a house, where poverty keeps the door. Betty. And so you resolve to die a maid, do you, Madam? Miss L. Or have it in my power to make the man I love master of my fortune. Miss L. 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 be'st aught but name, assist my Feignwell! he may be mine! Thou god of love, if thou Point all thy darts to aid his just design, And make his plots as prevalent as thine. ACT II. SCENE I.-The Park. [Exeunt. Wom. Coxcombs! [Aside, and exit. Sir P. Pray, what says your watch? mine is down. for creatures of her function seldom penetrate | to that young lady whom I saw in the chariot beyond the pocket. with you this morning in Gracechurch-street. Sir P. Who, Nancy Lovely? I am a piece of a guardian to that lady: you must know, her father, I thank him, joined me with three of the most preposterous old fellows-that, upon my soul, I am in pain for the poor girl: she must certainly lead apes, ha, ha! Col. F. I want thirty-six minutes of twelve, Sir. [Puts up his watch, and takes out his snuff-box. Sir P. May I presume, Sir. Col. F. Sir, you honour me. [Presenting the box. Sir P. 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. F. I bought it in Paris, Sir.-I do think the workmanship pretty neat. Sir P. Neat! 'tis exquisitely fine, Sir. Pray, Sir, if I may take the liberty of inquiringwhat country is so happy to claim the birth of the finest gentleman in the universe? France, I presume. Col. F. Then you don't think me an English man? Sir P. No, upon my soul, don't I. Sir P. Impossible you should wish to be an Englishman! Pardon me, Sir, this island could not produce a person of such alertness. Col. F. That's a pity, Sir Philip. If the lady would give me leave, I would endeavour to avert that curse. Sir P. 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 men I ever saw. Col. F. And I her to all women Sir P. I assure you, Mr. Feignwell, 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. F. I wish I had leave to try them, Sir Philip. Col. F. As this mirror shows you, Sir. [Puts up a pocket-glass to SIR PHILIP's face.] I know not how to distinguish you, Sir: but your Sir P. With all my soul, Sir; I can refuse a mien and address speak you right honoura-person of your appearance nothing. ble. Sir P. Thus great souls judge of others by themselves-I am only adorned with knighthood: that's all, I assure you, Sir: my name is Sir Philip Modelove. Col. F. Of French extraction? Col. F. One may plainly perceive it-There is a certain gaiety peculiar to my nation (for 1 will own myself a Frenchman) which distinguishes us every where.-A person of your figure would be a vast addition to a coro net. Col. F. Sir, I am infinitely obliged to you. Sir P. But do you really like matrimony? Col. F. I believe I could with that lady. Sir P. 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. F. I wish you'd give me your consent to marry Miss Lovely, under your hand, Sir Philip. Sir P. I'll do't, if you'll step into St. James' Coffee-house, where we may have pen and ink Sir P. I must own I had the offer of a ba--though I can't foresee what advantage my rony about five years ago, but I abhorred the fatigue which must have attended it.-I could never yet bring myself to join with either party. Col. F. You are perfectly in the right, Sir Philip a fine person should not embark himself in the slovenly concern of politics: dress and pleasure are objects proper for the soul of a fine gentleman. Sir P. And love Col. F. Oh! that's included under the article of pleasure. Sir P. Parbleu! il est un homme d'esprit. May I crave your name, Sir? Col. F. My name is La Feignwell, Sir, at your service. Sir P. The La Feignwells are French, I know; though the name is become very numerous in Great Britain of late years. I was sure you were French the moment I laid my eyes upon you; I could not come into the supposition of your being an Englishman: this island produces few such ornaments. Col. F. Are you married, Sir Philip? Sir P. No; nor do I believe I shall ever enter into that honourable state: I have an absolute tendre for the whole sex. Col. F. That's more than they have for you, I dare swear. [Aside.] I find I was very much mistaken-I imagined you had been married consent will be to you, without you can 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, Jacque, Renno.-Where are you all, scoundrels ?-Order the chariot to St. James' Coffee-house. Col. F. Le Noir, La Brun, La Blanc-Mor bleu, où sont ces coquins là? ́Allons, Monsieur le Chevalier. Sir P. Ah, pardonnez moi, Monsieur. Philip. Sir P. The best bred man in Europe, posi[Exeunt. tively. Miss L. More like a hypocrite, you mean, Mrs. Prim. Mrs. P. 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 stumblingblock to the upright. Miss L. Pray, who are they? Are the pinched cap and formal hood the emblems of sanctity? Does your virtue consist in your dress, Mrs. Prim. meant this tyranny! No, you usurp an authority which he never intended you should take. Obad. Hark thee, dost thou call good counsel tyranny? Do I or my wife tyrannise, when we desire thee in all love to put off thy tempting attire? Miss L. I wish I were in my grave! Kill me rather than treat me thus. Mrs. P. 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 petti-vanity, among the princes and rulers of the coats. Miss L. No; nor the abomination of cant neither. Don't tell me, Mrs. Prim, dont.-I know you have as much pride, vanity, selfconceit, 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. P. 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 resembleth 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. Miss L. 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. P. 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. Miss L. No! that's plainly to be seen. Mrs. P. Tabitha is one of the faithful: he fell not with a stranger. Miss L. 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. Obad. Not stripped of thy vanity yet, Anne! Why dost thou not make her put it off, Sarah? Mrs. P. She will not do it. Obad. Verily, thy naked bosom troubleth my outward man: pray thee_hide it, Anne: put on an handkerchief, Anne Lovely. Miss L. I hate handkerchiefs when 'tis not cold weather, Mr. Prim. Obad. I have seen thee wear a handkerchief, nay, and a mask to boot, in the middle of July. Miss L. Ay, to keep the sun from scorching me. Obad. If thou couldst not bear the sunbeams, how dost thou think man can bear thy beams? Those breasts inflame desire: let them be hid, I say. Miss L. Let me be quiet, I say. Must I be tormented thus for ever? Sure no woman's condition ever equalled mine! Foppery, folly, avarice, and hypocrisy, are, by turns, my constant companions-I cannot think my father Obad. Kill thee! ha, ha! thou thinkest thou art acting some lewd play sure.-Kill thee! Art thou prepared for death, Anne Lovely? No, no, thou wouldst rather have a husband, Anne.-Thou wantest a gilt coach, with six lazy fellows behind, to flaunt it in the ring of land-who pamper themselves with the fatness thereof; but I will take care that none shall squander away thy father's estate; thou shalt marry none such, Anne. Miss L. Would you marry me to one of your own canting sect. Obad. Yea, verily, no one else shall ever get my consent, I do assure thee, Anne. Miss L. And I do assure thee, Obadiah, that I will as soon turn Papist, and die in a convent. Mrs. P. O wickedness! Miss L. O stupidity! Obad. O blindness of heart! Miss L. Thou blinder of the world, don't provoke me-lest I betray your sanctity, and leave your wife to judge of your purity.What were the emotions of your spiritwhen you squeezed Mary by the hand last night in the pantry?-When she told you, you bussed so filthily? Ah! you had no aversion to naked bosoms, when you begged her to show you a little, little, little, bit of her delicious bosom-Don't you remember those words, Mr. Prim? Mrs. P. What does she say, Obadiah? Obad. She talketh unintelligibly, Sarah. Which way did she hear this? This should not have reached the ears of the wicked ones: -verily, it troubleth me. [Aside. Enter SIR PHILIP MODELOVE and COLONEL FEIGNWELL. Sir P. How dost thou do, friend Prim? Odso! my she friend here too! What, are you documenting Miss Nancy? Reading her a lecture upon the pinched coif, I warrant ye! Mrs. P. I am sure thou didst never read her any lecture that was good.-My flesh so riseth at these wicked ones, that prudence adviseth me to withdraw from their sight. [Exit. Col. F. Oh, that I could find means to speak with her! How charming she appears! I wish, I could get this letter into her hand. [Aside. Sir P. Well, Miss, I hope thou hast got the better of them. Miss L. The difficulties of my life are not to be surmounted, Sir Philip.-I hate the impertinence of him as much as the stupidity of the other. [Aside. Obad. Verily, Philip, thou wilt spoil this maiden. Sir P. I find we still differ in opinion; but that we may none of us spoil her, pr'ythee, Prim, let us consent to marry her.-I have sent for our brother guardians to meet me here about this very thing.-Madam, will you give me leave to recommend a husband to you?Here's a gentleman, whom, in my mind, you can have no objection to. [Presents COLONEL; she looks another way, Miss L. Heaven deliver me from the formal and the fantastic fool! Col. F. A fine woman-a fine horse, and fine equipage, are the finest things in the universe: and if I am so happy to possess you, Madam, I shall become the envy of mankind, as much as you outshine your whole sex. [As he takes her hand, he tries to put a letter into it; it drops-PRIM takes it up. Miss L. I have no ambition to appear conspicuously ridiculous, Sir. [Turning from him. Col. F. So fail the hopes of Feignwell. Miss L. Ha! Feignwell! 'tis he! What have I done? Prim has the letter, and it will be discovered. [Aside. Obad. Friend, I know not thy name, so cannot call thee by it; but thou seest thy letter is unwelcome to the maiden; she will not read it. Miss L. Nor shall you ; [Snatches the letter.] I'll tear it in a thousand pieces, and scatter it, as I will the hopes of all those that any of you shall recommend to me. [Tears the letter. Sr P. Ha! Right woman, 'faith! Col. F. Excellent woman! [Aside. Obad. Friend, thy garb savoureth too much of the vanity of the age for my approbation; nothing that resembleth Philip Modelove shall I love; mark that, therefore, friend Philip, bring no more of thy own apes under my roof. Sir P. I am so entirely a stranger to the monsters of thy breed, that I shall bring none of them, I am sure. Col. F. I am likely to have a pretty task by the time I have gone through them all; but she's a city worth taking, and 'egad I'll carry on the siege: if I can but blow up the outworks, I fancy I am pretty secure of the town. [Aside. Enter SERVANT. have picked out from the whole race of mankind." Obad. I would advise thee to shuffle him again with the rest of mankind; for I like him not. Col. F. Pray, Sir, without offence to your formality, what may be your objections? Oba. Thy person, thy manners, thy dress, thy acquaintance,―thy every thing, friend. Sir P. You are most particularly obliging, friend. Ha, ha! Trade. What business do you follow, pray, Sir? Col. F. Humph, by that question he must be the broker. [Aside.] Business, Sir! the business of a gentleman. Trade. That is as much as to say, you dress fine, feed high, lie with every woman you like, and pay your surgeon's bills better than your tailor's or your butcher's. Col. F. The court is much obliged to you, Sir, for your character of a gentleman. Tra e. The court, Sir! What would the court do without us citizens? Sir P. Without your wives and daughters, you mean, Mr. Tradelove. Per. Have you ever travelled, Sir? Col. F. That question must not be answered now. [Aside.] În books I have, Sir. Per. In books! That's fine travelling indeed!-Sir Philip, when you present a person I like, he shall have my consent to marry Miss Lovely; till when, your servant. Exit. Col. F. I'll make you like me before I have done with you, or I am mistaken. [Aside. Trade. And when you can convince me that a beau is more useful to my country than a merchant, you shall have mine; till then, you must excuse me. [Exit. Col. F. So much for trade-I'll fit you too. [Aside. Sir P. In my opinion this is very inhuman treatment, as to the lady, Mr. Prim. Obad. Thy opinion and mine happen to differ as much as our occupations, friend: business requireth my presence, and folly thine; and so I must bid thee farewell. [Exit. Sir P. Here's breeding for you, Mr. Feign Serv. Toby Periwinkle and Thomas Trade-well!--Gad take me. love demand to see thee. [To SIR PHILIP. Sir P. Bid them come up. [Exit SERVANT. Miss L. Deliver me from such an inundation of noise and nonsense. Oh, Feignwell! whatever thy contrivance be, prosper it, heaven. Sir P. Sic transit gloria mundi! [Exit. Half my estate I'd give to see 'em bit. Col. F. I hope to bite you all, if my plot hit. [Exeunt. ACT III. SCENE I-A Tavern. COLONEL FEIGNWELL in an Egyptian dress, with SACK BUT. Sack. A lucky beginning, colonel-you have got the old beau's consent. Col. F. Ay, he's a reasonable creature; but the other three will require some pains. Shall I pass upon him, think you? 'Egad, in my mind, I look as antique as if I had been preserved in the ark. Sack. Pass upon him! ay, ay, if you have assurance enough. Col. F. I have no apprehension from that quarter; assurance is the cockade of a soldier. Sack. Ay, but the assurance of a soldier differ much from that of a traveller-Can you lie with a good grace? Col. F. As heartily, when my mistress is the prize, as I would meet the foe when my country called and king commanded: so don't |