mentioned to me. I would bring him with me; for a sight of him will be sufficient, without, poppy or mandragora, to restore you to rest. Bel. I am sorry, Sir, that any mistake or imprudence of mine should have given you any uneasiness; it was not so intended, I assure you, Sir. Moo. It may be so, Sir, but not the less criminal for that.-My wife, Sir, must not be smirked and nodded at from tavern windows. I am a good shot, young gentleman, and don't suffer magpies to come near my cherries. Bel. Was it your wife, Sir? Moo. What's that to you, Sir? suppose it were my grandmother? Bel. I would not dare to offend her.-Permit me to say a word in private to you. [Exeunt MOODY and BEL. Spark. Now old surly is gone, tell me, Harcourt, if thou likest her as well as ever.-My dear, don't look down; I should hate to have a wife of mine out of countenance at any thing. Ali. For shame, Mr. Sparkish! Spark. Tell me, I say, Harcourt, how dost like her? thou hast stared upon her enough to resolve me. Har. So infinitely well that I could wish I bad a mistress too, that might differ from her in nothing but her love and engagement to you. Ali. Sir, Mr. Sparkish has often told me that bis acquaintance were all wits and railers; and now I find it. Spark. No, by the universe, Madam, he does not rally now; you may believe him. I do assure you he is the honestest, worthiest, truehearted gentleman; a man of such perfect honour, he would say nothing to a lady he does not mean. Har. Sir, you are so beyond expectation obliging, that Spark. Nay, 'egad, I am sure you do admire her extremely; I see it in your eyes.-He does admire you, Madam; he has told me so a thousand and a thousand times; have you not, Harcourt? you do admire her, by the world, you do-don't you? Har. Yes, above the world, or the most glorious part of it, her whole sex; and till now I never thought I should have envied you or any man about to marry ; but you have the best excuse to marry I ever knew. Ali. Nay, now Sir, I am satisfied you are of the society of the wits and railers, since you cannot spare your friend, even when he is most civil to you; but the surest sign is, you are an enemy to marriage, the common butt of every railer. Har. Truly, Madam, I was never an enemy to marriage till now, because marriage was never an enemy to me before. Ali. But why, Sir, is marriage an enemy to you now? because it robs you of your friend here? for you look upon a friend married as ne gone into a monastery; that is, dead to the world. Har. 'Tis indeed because you marry him: I see, Madam, you can guess my meaning.-I do confess heartily and openly, I wish it were in my power to break the match; by heavens, I would. Spark. Poor Frank! Ali. Would you be so unkind to me? Har. No, no, 'tis not because I would be unkind to you. Spark. Poor Frank! no, 'egad, 'tis only his kindness to me. Ali. Great kindness to you indeed!-Insensible! let a man make love to his mistress to [Aside. his face. Spark. Come, dear Frank, for all my wife there, that shall be, thou shalt enjoy me sometimes, dear rogue.-By my honour, we men of wit condole for our deceased brother in marriage, as much as for one dead in earnest. 1 think that was prettily said of me, ha, Harcourt?-Pr'ythee, Frank, dost think my wite, that shall be, there, a fine person? Har. I could gaze upon her till I became as blind as you are. Spark. How as I am? how? Har. Because you are a lover; and true lovers are blind. Spark. True, true; but by the world she has wit too, as well as beauty. Go, go with her into a corner, and try if she has wit; talk to her any thing, she's bashful before me-take her into a corner. [HARCOURT Courts ALITHEA aside. Re-enter MOODY. Moo. How, Sir! If you are not concerned for the honour of a wife, I am for that of a sister.-Be a pander to your own wife, bring men to her, let 'em make love before your face, thrust 'em into a corner together, then leave 'em in private! is this your town wit and conduct? Spark. Ha, ha, ha! a silly, wise rogue would make one laugh more than a stark fool, ha, ha, ha! I shall burst. Nay, you shall not disturb 'em; I'll vex thee, by the world. What have you done with Belville? [Struggles with MOODY to keep him from HARCOURT and ALITHEA. Moo. Shown him the way out of my house, as you should do that gentleman. Spark. Nay, but pr'ythee let me reason with [Talks apart with MOODY. Ali. The writings are drawn, Sir, settlements made: 'tis too late, Sir, and past all revocation. thee. Har. Then so is my death. Ali. I would not be unjust to him. Har. Then why to me so? Ali. I have no obligations to you. Har. My love. Ali. I had his before. Hur. You never had it; he wants, you see, jealousy, the only infallible sign of it. Ali. Love proceeds from esteem: he cannot distrust my virtue; besides, he loves me, or he would not marry me. Har. Marrying you is no more a sign of his love, than bribing your woman, that he may marry you, is a sign of his generosity. But if you take marriage for a sign of love, take it from me immediately. Ali. No, now you have put a scruple in my head.-But in short, Sir, to end our dispute, must marry him; my reputation would suffer in the world else. Har. No; if you do marry him, with your pardon, Madam, your reputation must suffer in the world. Ali. Nay, now you are rude, Sir.-Mr. Sparkish, pray come hither, your friend here is very troublesome, and very loving. Har. Hold, hold. [Aside to ALITHEA. Moo. D'ye hear that, senseless puppy? Spark. Why, d'ye think I'll seem jealons, like a country bumpkin? Moo. No, rather be dishonoured, like a credulous driveller. Har. Madam, you would not have been so little generous as to have told him? Ali. Yes, since you could be so little genèrous as to wrong him. Har. Wrong him! no man can do it; he's beneath an injury; a bubble, a coward, a senseless idiot; a wretch so contemptible to all the world but you, that Ali. Hold, do not rail at him; for since he is like to be my husband, I am resolved to like him: nay, I think I am obliged to tell him you are not his friend-Mr. Sparkish, Mr. Sparkish! Spark. What, what?—Now, dear rogue, has she not wit? Har. Not so much as I thought, and hoped she had. Ali. Mr. Sparkish, do you bring people to rail at you? Har. Madam ! Spark. How? no; but if he does rail at me, 'tis but in jest, I warrant: what we wits do for one another, and never take any notice of it. Ali. He spoke so scurrilously of you, I had no patience to hear him. Moo. And he was in the right on't. Har. True, damned tell-tale woman. [Aside. Spark. Pshaw! to show his parts; we wits rail and make love often, but to show our parts; as we have no affections, so we have no malice; we~~ Moo. Did you ever hear such an ass? Moo. B'ye, driveller. Well, go thy ways spend their estates before they come to 'em, for the flower of the true town fops; such as let me go look to my freehold. and are cuckolds before they're married. But Enter a COUNTRYMAN. is the lawyer, counsellor gentleman, with a Coun. Master, your worship's servant. Here green bag full of papers, come again, and should be glad to speak to you. Moo. Now here's some other damned imway. I shall never marry the girl, nor get pediment, which the law has thrown in our clear of the smoke and wickedness of this cursed town. [Aside.] Where is he? other lawyers, counsellor gentlemen. [Exeunt. Coun. He's below in a coach, with three SCENE II.-Another Chamber. Enter PEGGY and LUCY. grown quite melancholy. Peg. Would it not make any one melancholy Ali. He said you were a wretch, below an little wild about this town. injury. Spark. Pshaw! Ali. A common bubble. Spark. Pshaw! Ali. A coward. Spark. Pshaw, pshaw ! Ali. A senseless, drivelling idiot. Spark. How did he disparage my parts? nay then, my honour's concerned. I can't put up that. Brother, help me to kill him. Ali. Hold! hold! [Offers to draw. Moo. If Harcourt would but kill Sparkish, and run away with my sister, I should be rid of three plagues at once. Ali. Indeed, to tell the truth, the gentleman [Aside. said, after all, that what he spoke was but out of friendship to you. Spark. How! say I am a fool; that is no wit, out of friendship to me. Ali. Yes, to try whether I was concerned enough for you; and made love to me only to be satisfied of my virtue for your sake. Har. Kind, however! Spark. Nay, if it were so, my dear rogue, I [Aside. ask thee pardon; but why would not you tell me so, 'faith? Har. Because I do not think on't, faith. Spark. Come, Belville is gone away; Harcourt, let's be gone to the new play; come, Madam. Ali. I will not go, if you intend to leave me alone in the box, and run all about the house, as you used to do. Spark. Pshaw! I'll leave Harcourt with you in the box, to entertain you, and that's as good. If I sat in the box, I should be thought no critic. I must run about, my dear, and abuse the author.-Come, away. Harcourt, lead her down. B'ye, brother. [Exeunt HARCOURT, SPARKISH, and ALITHEA. Peg. Nay, I confess I was quiet enough, till somebody told me what pure lives the London ladies lead, with their dancing meetings, and junketings, and dressed every day in their best gowns; and I warrant you, play at ninepins every day in the week, so they do. Lucy. To be sure, Miss, you will lead a betyour sweet-tempered guardian, the cheerful ter life when joined in holy wedlock with Mr. Moody? Peg. I can't lead a worse, that's one good thing; but I must make the best of a bad market, for I can't marry nobody else. Lucy. How so, Miss? that's very strange. Lucy. I know it!-Heaven forbid, Miss. Lucy. Don't sigh, Miss Peggy; if that young take pity on me, I'd throw such a contract as gentleman, who was here just now, would yours behind the fire. Peg. Lord bless us, how you talk! talk otherwise, if you knew him. Peg. Mr. Belville !-Where is he?-When did you see him?-You have undone me, Lucy; where was he? did he say any thing? he's quite distracted, poor young creature your guardian turned you into your chamber, was in such a fluster. But what did he say Peg. I knew something was the matter, I to my bud? means husband, and he is not your husband Lucy. What do you call him bud for? Bud yet, and I hope never will be; and if he was my husband I'd bud him, a surly, unreasonable beast. Peg. I'd call him any names, to keep him in good humour, if he'd let me marry any body else, (which I can't do,) I'd call him husband as long as he lived. But what said Mr. Belville to him? Lucy. I don't know what he said to him, but I'll tell you what he said to me, with a sigh, and his hand upon his breast, as he went out of the door-" If you ever were in love, young gentlewoman, (meaning me,) and can pity a most faithful lover, tell the dear object of my affections " Peg. Meaning me, Lucy? Moo. No, you never met with it, poor innocent. Peg. Well, but pray, bud, let's go to a play to-night. Moo. No, no; no more plays. But why are you so eager to see a play? Peg. Faith, dear, not that I care one pin for their talk there; but I like to look upon the player-men, and would see, if I could, the gallant you say loves me; that's all, dear bud. Moo. Is that all, dear bud? Lucy. This proceeds from my mistress' example. Peg. Let's go abroad, however, dear bud, if we don't go to the play. Moo. Come, have a little patience, and thou shalt go into the country next week. Peg. Therefore, I would first see some sights to tell my neighbours of: nay, I will Lucy. Yes, you, to be sure. "Tell the dear object of my affections, I live but upon the hopes that she is not married; and when those hopes leave me, she knows the rest;" then he cast up his eyes thus gnashed his teeth-go abroad, that's once. struck his forehead-would have spoke again, but could not-fetched a deep sigh, and vanished. Peg. That is really very fine; I am sure it makes my heart sink within me, and brings tears into my eyes! O, he's a charming sweet -But hush, hush, I hear my husband! Lucy. Don't call him husband. Go into the Enter MOODY. Moo. Come, what's here to do; you are putting the town pleasures in her head, and setting her a longing. Lucy. Yes, after nine-pins; you suffer none to give her those longings but yourself. Moo. Come, Mrs. Flippant, good precepts are lost when bad examples are still before us: the liberty your mistress takes abroad makes her hanker after it, and out of humour at home. Poor wretch! she desired not to come to London; I would bring her. Lucy. O yes, you surfeit her with pleasures. Moo. She has been this fortnight in town, and never desired, till this afternoon, to go abroad. Lucy. Was she not at the play yesterday? Moo. Yes, but she never asked me: I was myself the cause of her going. Lucy. Then if she ask you again, you are the cause of her asking, and not my mistress. Moo. Well, next week I shall be rid of you all, rid of this town, and my dreadful apprehensions. Come, be not melancholy, for thou shalt go into the country very soon, dearest. Peg. Pish! what d'ye tell me of the country for? Moo. What, you have put this into her head? [TO LUCY. Lucy. Heaven defend rae, what suspicions! somebody has put more things into your head than you ought to have. Moo. Your tongue runs too glibly, Madam; and you have lived too long with a London lady, to be a proper companion for innocence. I am not over fond of your mistress. Lucy. There's no love lost between us. Moo. You admitted those gentlemen into the house, when I said I would not be at home; and there was the young fellow too who behaved so indecent to my wife at the tavern window. Lucy. Because you would not let him see your handsome wife out of your lodgings. Peg. Why, O Lord, did the gentleman come hither to see me indeed? Moo. No, no. You are not the cause of that damned question too? [To LUCY. 'tis late; for I will go, that's flat and plainPeg. Come, pray, bud, let's go abroad before only into the Park. Moo. So! the obstinacy already of the town wife; and I must, while she's here, humour her like one. [Aside.]-How shall we do, that she may not be seen or known? Lucy. Muffle her up with a bonnet and cloak, and I'll go with her to avoid suspicion. Moo. No, no, I am obliged to you for your kindness, but she sha'n't stir without me. Lucy. What will you do then? Peg. What, shall we go? I am sick with staying at home: if I don't walk in the Park, I'll do nothing that I am bid for a week-I wont be moped. Lucy. O she has a charming spirit! I could stand your friend now, and would, if you had ever a civil word to give me. [To MOODY. Moo. I'll give thee a better thing, I'll give thee a guinea for thy good advice, if I like it; and I can have the best of the college for the same money. Lucy. I despise a bribe: when I am your friend, it shall be without fee or reward. Peg. Don't be long then, for I will go out. Lucy. The tailor brought home last night the clothes you intend for a present to your godson in the country. Peg. You must not tell that, Lucy. Lucy. But I will, Madam. When you were with your lawyers last night, Miss Peggy, to divert me and herself, put 'em on, and they fitted her to a hair. Moo. Thank you, thank you, Lucy, 'tis the luckiest thought! Go this moment, Peggy, into your chamber, and put 'em on again and you shall walk with me into the Park, as my godson. Well thought of, Lucy! I shall love you for ever for this. Peg. And so shall I too, Lucy: I'll put 'em on directly. [Going.] Suppose, bud, I must keep on my petticoats, for fear of showing my legs? Moo. No, no, you fool, never mind your legs? [Exeunt. ACT III. SCENE 1.-The Park. Enter BELVILLE and HARCOURT. Bel. And the moment Moody left me, I took an opportunity of conveying some tender sentiments through Lucy to Miss Peggy; and here I am, in expection of seeing my country goddess. Har. And so, to blind Moody, and take him off the scent of your passion for this girl, and at the same time to give me an opportunity with Sparkish's mistress (and of which I have made the most,) you hinted to him with a grave melancholy face that you were dying for his sister-Gad-a-mercy, nephew! I will back thy modesty against any other in the three kingdoms: it will do, Dick. Bel. What could I do, uncle?-It was my last stake, and I played for a great deal. Har. You mistake me, Dick; I don't say you could do better, I only can't account for your modesty's doing so much you have done such wonders, that I, who am rather bold than sheepish, have not yet ceased wondering at you. But do you think that you imposed upon him? Bel. Faith, I can't say; he said very little, grumbled much, shook his head, and showed me the door. But what success have you had with Alithea ? Har. Just enough to have a glimmering of hope, without having light enough to see an inch before my nose.-This day will produce something; Alithea is a woman of great honour, and will sacrifice her happiness to it, unless Sparkish's absurdity stands my friend, and does every thing that the fates ought to do for me. Bel. Yonder comes the prince of coxcombs, and if your mistress and mine should, by chance, be tripping this way, this fellow will spoil sport; let us avoid him-you can't cheat him before his face. Har. But I can though, thanks to my wit, and his want of it. Bel. But you cannot come near his mistress but in his company. Har. Still the better for me, nephew, for fools are most easily cheated, when they themselves are accessaries; and he is to be bubbled of his mistress, or of his money (the common mistress,) by keeping him company. Enter SPARKISH. Spark. Who's that, that is to be bubbled? faith, let me snack; I han't met with a bubble since Christmas. 'Gad, I think bubbles are like their brother woodcocks, go out with the cold weather. Hur. He did not hear all, I hope. [Apart to BEL. Spark. Come, you bubbling rogues, you, where do we sup? O Harcourt, my mistress tells me you have made love, fierce love, to her last night, all the play long; ha, ha, ha! but 1 Har. I make love to her? Spark. Nay, I forgive thee, and I know her; but I am sure I know myself. Bel. Do you, Sir? Then you are the wisest man in the world, and I honour you as such. [Bows. Spark. O, your servant, Sir; you are at your raillery, are you? You can't oblige me more; I'm your man: he'll meet with his match. Ha! Harcourt! did not you hear me laugh prodigiously at the play last night? Har. Yes, and was very much disturbed at it. You put the actors and audience into con. fusion, and all your friends out of countenance. Spark. So much the better; I love confusion, and to see folks out of countenance; I was in tip-top spirits, faith, and said a thousand good things. Bel. But I thought you had gone to plays to laugh at the poet's good things, and not at your own. Spark. Your servant, Sir: no I thank you. 'Gad, I go to a play as to a country treat: I carry my own wine to one, and my own wit to t'other, or else I'm sure I should not be merry at either: and the reason why we are so often louder than the players is, because we hate authors damnably. Bel. But why should you hate the poor rogues? you have too much wit, and despise writing, I'm sure. Spark. O yes, I despise writing; but women, women, that make men do all foolish things, make 'em write songs too. Every body does it; 'tis e'en as common with lovers, as playing with fans: and you can no more help rhyming to your Phillis, than drinking to your Phillis. Har. But the poets damned your songs, did they? Spark. Damn the poets: they turned them into burlesque, as they call it: that burlesque is a hocus-pocus trick they have got, which, by the virtue of hiccius-doccius, topsy-turvy, they make a clever witty thing absolute nonsense! Do you know, Harcourt, that they ridiculed my last song, 66 Twang, twang," the best I ever wrote? Har. That may be, and be very easily ridiculed for all that. it. Bel. Favour me with it, Sir; I never heard Spark. What, and have all the Park about us? Har. Which you'll not dislike; and so, pr'ythee, begin. Spark. I never am ask'd twice, and so have at you. Tell me not of the roses and lilies Which tinge the fair cheek of your Phillis; Let all whining lovers go hang ; Tip your arrow with wit, And it comes to my heart with a twang, twang, And it comes to my heart with a twang. [At the end of the song HARCOURT and BELVILLE steal away from SPARKISH, and leave him singing; he sinks his voice by degrees at the surprise of their being gone. Re-enter HARCOURT and Belville. What the deuce did you go away for? Har. She sees you. [Looking at his Watch. Har. Pray first take me, and reconcile me to her. Spark. Another time; faith, it is the lady, Enter MOODY, PEGGY in Boy's clothes, and Har. Your servant, Mr. Moody. this is! Moo. Come along, I say; don't stare about you so; you'll betray yourself. [Exeunt Moo, and PEGGY, ALI. follows. [Exit BEL. after them. Har. Who is that pretty youth with him, Sparkish? Moo. No, no; he's a dangler after your sister, or pretends to be; but they are all bad alike. Come along, I say. [MOODY pulls PEGGY away. Exeunt PEGGY and MOODY, BELVILLE following. SPARKISH, HARCOURT, and ALITHEA come forward. Spark. Come, dear Madam, for my sake you shall be reconciled to him.' Ali. For your sake, I hate him. Har. That's something too cruel, Madam, to hate me for his sake. Spark. Ay, indeed, Madam, too cruel to me, to hate my friend for my sake. Ali. I hate him because he is your enemy; and you ought to hate him too, for making love to me, if you love me. Spark. That's a good one! I hate a man for loving you! If he did love you, 'tis but what he can't help; and 'tis your fault, not his, if he admires you. a Ali. Is it for your honour, or mine, to suffer man to make love to me, who am to marry you to-morrow? Har. But why, dearest Madam, will you be more concerned for his honour than he is himself? Let his honour alone, for my sake and his. He has no honour. Spark. How's that? Har. But what my dear friend can guard himself? Spark. O ho-that's right again. Ali. You astonish me, Sir, with want of jea Spark. Some relation of Peggy's, I suppose; for he is something like her in face and gaw-lousy. kiness. Re-enter BElville. Bel. By all my hopes, uncle, Peggy in boy's clothes. I am all over agitation. Apart to HARCOURT. Har. Be quiet, or you'll spoil all. They return.-Alithea has seen you, Sparkish, and will be angry if you don't go to her: besides, I would fain be reconciled to her, which none but you can do, my dear friend. Spark. Well, that's a better reason, dear friend: I would not go near her now for her's or my own sake; but I can deny you nothing; for though I have known thee a great while, never go, if I do not love thee as well as a new acquaintance. Har. I am obliged to you, indeed, my dear friend: I will be well with her, only to be well with thee still; for these ties to wives usually dissolve all ties to friends. Spark. But they sha'n't though. Come along. [They retire. Re-enter MOODY, PEGGY, and AlITHEA. Moo. Sister, if you will not go, we must leave you. [To ALITHEA.] The fool, her gallant, and she, will muster up all the young saunterers of this place. What a swarm of cuckolds and cuckold-makers are here! I begin to be uneasy. [Aside.] Come, let's be gone, Peggy. Peg. Don't you believe that! I han't half my bellyfull of sights yet. Moo. Then walk this way. Peg. Lord, what a power of fine folks are here. And Mr. Belville, as I hope to be married. [Aside. Moo. Come along; what are you muttering at? Peg. There's the young gentleman there, you were so angry about, that's in love with me. Spark. And you make me giddy, Madam, with your jealousy and fears, and virtue and honour. 'Gad, I see virtue makes a woman as troublesome as a little reading or learning. Har. Come, Madam, you see you strive in vain to make him jealous of me: my dear friend is the kindest creature in the world to me. Spark. Poor fellow! Har. But his kindness only is not enough for me, without your favour, your good opinion, dear Madam: 'tis that must perfect my happiness. Good gentleman, he believes all I say: 'would you would do so!-Jealous of me! I would not wrong him nor you for the world. Spark. Look you there: hear him, hear him, and not walk away so; come back again. [ALITHEA walks carelessly to and fro. Har. I love you, Madam, soSpark. How's that? nay, now you begin to go too far indeed. Hur. So much I confess I say I love you, that I would not have you miserable and cast yourself away upon so unworthy and inconsiderable a thing as what you see here. [Claps his hand on his breast, and points to SPARKISH. Spark. No, faith, I believe thou wouldst not; now his meaning is plain; but I knew before thou wouldst not wrong me nor her. Har. No, no, heavens forbid the glory of her sex should fall so low as into the embraces of such a contemptible wretch, the least of mankind-my dear friend here I injure him. [Embraces SPARKISH. Ali. Very well. Spark. No, no, dear friend, I knew it: Madam, you see he will rather wrong himself than me in giving himself such names. Ali. Do you not understand him yet? Spark. Come, come, you shall stay till he has saluted you. |