POETS will think nothing so checks their fury As wits, cits, beaux, and women for their jury. Our spark's half dead to think what medley's

come,

With blended judgments, to pronounce his doom.
'Tis all false fear; for in a mingled pit,
Why, what your grave Don thinks but dully writ,
His neighbour i' th' great wig may take for wit.
Some authors court the few, the wise, if any;
Our youth's content, if he can reach the many,
Who go with much like ends to church and play,
Not to observe what priests or poets say;
No! no! your thoughts, like theirs, lie quite
another way.

The ladies safe may smile, for here's no slander, No smut, no lewd-tongu'd beau, no double entendre.

'Tis true, he has a spark just come from France, But then so far from beau-why, he talks sense! Like coin oft carry'd out, but-seldom brought from thence.

There's yet a gang to whom our spark submits, Your elbow-shaking fool, that lives by's wits, That's only witty though, just as he lives, by fits. Who, lion-like, through bailiffs scours away, Hunts, in the face, a dinner all the day,

|

At night with empty bowels grumbles o'er the And now the modish 'prentice he implores, play. Who, with his master's cash, stol'n out of doors, Employs it on a brace of-honourable whores: While their good bulky mother pleas'd, sits by, Bawd regent of the bubble gallery. Next to our mounted friends we humbly move, Who all your side-box tricks are much above, Ah, friends! poor Dorset garden-house is gone; And never fail to pay us with your love. Quite lost to us, sure for some strange misdeeds, Our merry meetings there are all undone : That strong dog Sampson's pull'd it o'er our heads,

Snaps rope like thread; but when his fortune's told him,

He'll hear, perhaps, of rope will one day hold

him:

At least, I hope, that our good-natur❜d town
Will find a way to pull his prices down.

Well, that's all! Now, gentlemen, for the play,
On second thoughts, I've but two words to say,
Such as it is, for your delight design'd,

Hear it, read, try, judge, and speak as you find.

SCENE I.-The Park.

Enter VIZARD with a Letter, his Servant following.

Viz. Angelica send it back unopened! say you? Serv. As you see, sir.

Viz. The pride of these virtuous women is more insufferable than the immodesty of prostitutes-After all my encouragement, to slight me thus?

Sero. She said, sir, that imagining your morals sincere, she gave you access to her conversation; but that your late behaviour in her company has convinced her that your love and religion are both hypocrisy, and that she believes your letter like yourself, fair on the outside, and foul within: so sent it back unopened.

Viz. May obstinacy guard her beauty till wrinkles bury it; then may desire prevail to make her curse that untimely pride her disappointed age repents !-I'll be revenged the very first opportunity.-Saw you the old Lady Darling, her mother?

Serv. Yes, sir, and she was pleased to say much in your commendation.

Viz. That's my cue-An esteem grafted in old age is hardly rooted out; years stiffen their opinions with their bodies, and old zeal is only to be cozened by young hypocrisy. [Aside.] Run to the Lady Lurewell's, and know of her maid whether her ladyship will be at home this evening. Her beauty is sufficient cure for Angelica's scorn.

[Exit Servant. VIZARD pulls out a book, reads, and walks about.

Enter SMUGgler.

Smug. Ay, there's a pattern for the young men o' th' times; at his meditation so early; some book of pious ejaculations, I'm sure.

Viz. This Hobbes is an excellent fellow! [Aside.] Oh, uncle Smuggler! To find you at this end o3 th' town is a miracle.

Smug. I have seen a miracle this morning indeed, cousin Vizard.

Viz. What is it, pray, sir?

Smug. A man at his devotion so near the court-I'm very glad, boy, that you keep your sanctity untainted in this infectious place; the very air of this park is heathenish, and every man's breath I meet scents of atheism.

Viz. Surely, sir, some great concern must bring you to this unsanctified end of the town.

bastian, laden with Portugal wines: now the impudent rogue of a tide-waiter has the face to affirm it is French wines in Spanish casks, and has indicted me upon the statute-Oh, conscience! conscience! these tide-waiters and surveyors plague us more with their French wines than the war did with French privateers-Ay, there's another plague of the nation

Enter Colonel STANDARD.

A red coat and feather.

Viz. Colonel Standard, I'm your humble ser

vant.

Stand. May be not, sir.

Vis. Why so?

Stand. Because-I'm disbanded.
Viz. How! Broke?

Stand. This very morning, in Hyde-Park, my brave regiment, a thousand men, that looked like lions yesterday, were scattered, and looked as poor and simple as the herd of deer that grazed beside them.

Smug. Tal, al, deral. [Singing.] I'll have a bonfire this night as high as the monument.

Stand. A bonfire! Thou dry, withered, illnature; had not those brave fellows' swords defended you, your house had been a bonfire ere this about your ears.-Did we not venture our lives, sir?

Smug. And did we not pay for your lives, sir? Venture your lives! I'm sure we ventured our money, and that's life and soul to me.--Sir, we'll maintain you no longer.

Stand. Then your wives shall, old Actæon.There are five-and-thirty strapping officers gone this morning to live upon free quarter in the city.

Smug. Oh, Lord! Oh, Lord! I shall have a son within these nine months, born with a leading-staff in his hand.- -Sir, you are

Stand. What, sir?

Smug. Sir, I say that you are-
Stand. What, sir?

Smug. Disbanded, sir, that's alllawyer yonder.

-I see my [Exit.

Viz. Sir, I'm very sorry for your misfortune. Stand. Why so? I don't come to borrow mo ney of you; if you're my friend, meet me this evening at the Rummer; I'll pay my foy, drink a health to my king, prosperity to my country, and away for Hungary to-morrow morning.

Viz. What! you won't leave us?

Stand. What! a soldier stay here, to look like an old pair of colours in Westminster-Hall, rag

lieutenant; he was ashamed to own that he wanted a dinner, but begged eighteen-pence of me to buy a new scabbard for his sword.

Viz. Oh, but you have good friends, colonel !

Stand. Oh, very good friends! My father's a lord, and my elder brother a beau; mighty good friends indeed!

Viz. But your country may perhaps want your sword again.

Stand. Nay, for that matter, let but a single drum beat up for volunteers between Ludgate and Charing Cross, and I shall undoubtedly hear it at the walls of Buda.

Viz. Come, come, colonel, there are ways of making your fortune at home-Make your addresses to the fair; you're a man of honour and courage.

Stand. Ay, my courage is like to do me wondrous service with the fair. This pretty_cross cut over my eye will attract a duchess-I warrant 'twill be a mighty grace to my ogling-Had I used the certain stratagem of a brother colonel of mine, I might succeed.

Viz. What was it, pray?

Stand. Why, to save his pretty face for the women, he always turned his back upon the enemy. He was a man of honour for the ladies.

Viz. Come, come, the loves of Mars and Venus will never fail; you must get a mistress.

Stand. Pr'ythee, no more on't-You have awakened a thought, from which, and the kingdom, I would have stolen away at once.be plain, I have a mistress.

Viz. And she's cruel?

Stand. No.

Viz. Her parents prevent your happiness? Stand. Not that.

Viz. Then she has no fortune?

-To

Stand. A large one. Beauty to tempt all mankind, and virtue to beat off their assaults. Oh, Vizard! such a creature!

Enter Sir HARRY WILDAIR, crosses the Stage singing, with Footmen after him. Hey-day! Who the devil have we here?

Viz. The joy of the play-house, and life of the Park; Sir Harry Wildair, newly come from Paris.

Stand. Sir Harry Wildair! Did not he make a campaign in Flanders some three or four years ago?

Viz. The same.

Stand. Why, he behaved himself very bravely. Viz. Why not? Dost think bravery and gaiety are inconsistent? He's a gentleman of most happy circumstances, born to a plentiful estate; has had a genteel and easy education, free from the rigidness of teachers, and pedantry of schools. His florid constitution being never ruffled by misfortune, nor stinted in its pleasures, has rendered him entertaining to others, and easy to himself; turning all passion into gaiety of humour, by which he chooses rather to rejoice with his friends, than be hated by any; as you shall see.

Re-enter WILdair.

Wild. Ha, Vizard!

Viz. Sir Harry!

Wild. Who thought to find you out of the Rubric so long? I thought thy hypocrisy had been wedded to a pulpit-cushion long ago.-Sir, if I mistake not your face, your name is Standard? Stand. Sir Harry, I'm your humble servant. Wild. Come, gentlemen, the news, the news o' th' town, for I'm just arrived.

Viz. Why, in the city-end o' th' town we're playing the knave, to get estates.

in

Stand. And in the court-end playing the fool, spending them.

Wild. Just so in Paris. I'm glad we're grown so modish.

Viz. We are so reformed, that gallantry is taken for vice.

Stand. And hypocrisy for religion.
Wild. A-la-mode de Paris again.

Viz. Not one whore between Ludgate and Aldgate.

Stand. But ten times more cuckolds than

ever.

Viz. Nothing like an oath in the city. Stand. That's a mistake; for my major swore a hundred and fifty last night to a merchant's wife in her bed-chamber.

Wild. Pshaw! this is trifling; tell me news, gentlemen. What lord has lately broke his fortune at the Groom-Porter's? or his heart at Newmarket, for the loss of a race? What wife has been lately suing in Doctor's-Commons for alimony; or what daughter run away with her father's valet? What beau gave the noblest ball at the Bath, or had the finest coach in the ring? I want news, gentlemen.

Stand. Faith, sir, there are no news at all. Viz. But pray, Sir Harry, tell us some news of your travels.

Wild. With all my heart.-You must know then, I went over to Amsterdam in a Dutch ship: I there had a Dutch whore for five stivers. I went from thence to Landen, where I was heartily drubbed in the battle with the butt-end of a Swiss musket. I thence went to Paris, where I had half a dozen intrigues, bought half a dozen new suits, fought a couple of duels, and here I am again in statu quo.

Viz. But we heard that you designed to make the tour of Italy; what brought you back so soon?

Wild. That which brought you into the world, and may perhaps carry you out of it,—a woman. Stand. What! quit the pleasures of travel for

a woman!

Wild. Ay, colonel, for such a woman! I had rather see her ruelle than the palace of Lewis le Grand. There's more glory in her smile, than in the jubilee at Rome; and I would rather kiss her hand, than the pope's toe.

Viz. You, colonel, have been very lavish in the beauty and virtue of your mistress; and Sir Harry here has been no less eloquent in the praise of his. Now will I lay you both ten guineas a-piece, that neither of 'em is so pretty, so witty, or so virtuous, as mine.

Stand. How, sir! left Paris about a month before you?

Wild. Yes, sir, and I had an account that she lodged somewhere in St James's.

Viz. How! somewhere in St James's, say you?

Wild. Ay, sir, but I know not where, and perhaps mayn't find her this fortnight.

Stand. Her name, pray, Sir Harry.

Viz. Ay, ay, her name; perhaps we know her. Wild. Her name! Ay,-she has the softest, whitest hand that e'er was made of flesh and blood; her lips so balmy sweet

Stand. But her name, sir. Wild. Then her neck and breast;-her breasts do so heave, so heave.

[Singing.

Viz. But her name, sir; her quality. Wild. Then her shape, colonel! Stand. But her name I want, sir. Wild. Then her eyes, Vizard! Stand. Pshaw, Sir Harry! her name, or nothing.

Wild. Then, if you must have it, she's called the Lady--But then her foot, gentlemen; she dances to a miracle. Vizard, you have certainly lost your wager.

Viz. Why, you have certainly lost your senses; we shall never discover the picture, unless you subscribe the name.

man, if ladies were to be gained by sword and pistol only, what the devil should all we beaus do?

Viz. I'll try him farther. [Aside.] But would not you, Sir Harry, fight for this woman you so much admire?

Wild. Fight! Let me consider. I love her→→→ that's true;-but then I love honest Sir Harry Wildair better. The Lady Lurewell is divinely charming- -right- -but then a thrust i' th guts, or a Middlesex jury, is as ugly as the devil.

Viz. Ay, Sir Harry, 'twere a dangerous cast for a beau-baronet to be tried by a parcel of greasy, grumbling, bartering boobies, who would hang you, purely because you're a gentleman.

Wild. Ay, but on t'other hand, I have money enough to bribe the rogues with: so, upon mature deliberation, I would fight for her. But no more of her. Pr'ythee, Vizard, cann't you recommend a friend to a pretty mistress by the bye, till I can find my own? You have store, I'm sure; you cunning poaching dogs make surer game than we that hunt open and fair. Pr'ythee now, good Vizard.

Viz. Let me consider a little.-Now love and revenge inspire my politics! [Aside. [Pauses, whilst Sir HARRY walks singing. Wild. Pshaw! thou'rt as long studying for a new mistress, as a drawer is piercing a new pipe. Viz. I design a new pipe for you, and wholesome wine; you'll therefore bear a little expec

tation.

Wild. Ha! say'st thou, dear Vizard?
Viz. A girl of sixteen, Sir Harry.

Wild. Now sixteen thousand blessings light on thee!

Viz. Pretty and witty.

Viz. Her name!

Wild. Ay, ay, but her name, Vizard.

yes- -she has the softest whitest hand that e'er was made of flesh and blood; her lips so balmy sweet

Wild. Well, well, but where shall I find her,

man?

Viz. Find her!—but then her foot, Sir Harry; she dances to a miracle.

Wild. Pr'ythee don't distract me.

Viz. Well then, you must know, that this lady is the greatest beauty in town; her name's Angelica: she that passes for her mother is a private bawd, and called the Lady Darling; she goes for a baronet's lady, (no disparagement to your honour, Sir Harry,) I assure you.

Wild. Pshaw, hang my honour! but what street, what house?

Viz. Not so fast, Sir Harry; you must have my passport for your admittance, and you'll find my recommendation in a line or two will procure you very civil entertainment; I suppose twenty or thirty pieces handsomely placed, will gain the point: I'll insure her sound.

Wild. Thou dearest friend to a man in necessity! Here, sirrah, order my coach about to St James's; I'll walk across the Park.

[To his servant.

Enter CLINCHER senior.

Clin. Here, sirrah, order my coach about to St. James's, I'll walk across the Park too-Mr Vizard, your most devoted-Sir, [To WILDAIR] I admire the mode of your shoulder-knot; methinks it hangs very emphatically, and carries an air of travel in it: your sword-knot too is most ornamentally modish, and bears a foreign mien. Gentlemen, my brother is just arrived in town; so that, being upon the wing to kiss his hands, I hope you'll pardon this abrupt departure of, gentlemen, your most devoted, and most faithful [Exit.

humble servant.

Wed. Pr'ythee, dost know him?

Viz. Know him! why, it is Clincher, who was apprentice to my uncle Smuggler, the merchant in the city.

Wild. What makes him so gay?
Viz. Why, he's in mourning.
Wild. In mourning?

Viz. Yes, for his father. The kind old man in Hertfordshire t'other day broke his neck a foxhunting; the son upon the news has broke his indentures; whipped from behind the counter into the side-box, forswears merchandise, where he must live by cheating, and usurps gentility, where he may die by raking. He keeps his coach and liveries. brace of geldings, leash of mistresses, talks of nothing but wines, intrigues, plays, fashions, and going to the jubilee.

Wild. Ha, ha, ha! how many pounds of pulvil must the fellow use of sweetening himself from the smell of hops and tobacco? Faughmy conscience, methought, like Olivia's lover, he stunk of Thames street. But now for Angelica; that's her name: we'll to the Prince's chocolate-house, where you shall write my passport. Allons. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.-Lady LUREWELL'S Lodgings. Enter LUREWELL, and her Maid PARLY. Lure. Parly, my pocket-book-let me seeMadrid, Paris, Venice, London !-Ay, London! They may talk what they will of the hot countries, but I find love most fruitful under this climate――In a month's space have I gained-let me see,-imprimis, Colonel Standard.

Par. And how will your ladyship manage him? Lure. As all soldiers should be managed; he shall serve me till I gain my ends, then I'll disband him.

Par. But he loves you, madam.
Lure. Therefore I scoin him;

I hate all that don't love me, and slight all that do;
Would his whole deluding sex admir'd me,
Thus would I slight them all.
My virgin and unwary innocence
Was wrong'd by faithless man;

But now, glance eyes, plot brain, dissemble face, Lie tongue, and be a second Eve to tempt, seduce, and

Plague the treacherous kind.-
Let me survey my captives.-

The colonel leads the van; next Mr Vizard;
He courts me out of the Practice of Piety,
Therefore is a hypocrite;

Then Clincher; he adores me with orangerie,
And is consequently a foo! ;

Then my old merchant, Alderman Smuggler;
He's a compound of both ;-out of which medley
of lovers, if I dont make good diversion-
What d'ye think, Parly?

Par. I think, madam, I'm like to be very virtuous in your service, if you teach me all those tricks that you use to your lovers.

Lure. You're a fool, child; observe this, that though a woman swear, forswear, lie, dissemble, back-bite, be proud, vain, malicious, any thing, if she secures the main chance, she's still virtuous; that's a maxim.

Pur. I cann't be persuaded though, madam, but that you really loved Sir Harry Wildair in Paris.

Lure. Of all the lovers I ever had, he was my greatest plague, for I could never make him uneasy: I left him involved in a duel upon my account: I long to know whether the fop be killed or not.

Stand. The latter, I must confess, is the hardest; for in war, madam, we can be relieved in our duty; but in love, he who would take our post, is our enemy; emulation in glory is transporting, but rivals here intolerable.

Lure. Those that bear away the prize in the field, should boast the same success in the bedchamber; and, I think, considering the weakness of our sex, we should make those our companions who can be our champions.

Stand. I once, madam, hoped the honour of defending you from all injuries, through a title to your lovely person, but now my love must attend my fortune. My commission, madam, was my passport to the fair; adding a nobleness to my passion, it stamped a value on my love; 'twas once the life of honour, but now its winding-sheet, and with it must my love be buried.

Par. What disbanded, colonel?
Stand. Yes, Mrs Parly.

Par. Faugh, the nauseous fellow! he stinks of poverty already.

[Aside.

Lure. His misfortune troubles me, because it may prevent my designs.

[Aside.

Stand. I'll choose, madam, rather to destroy my passion by absence abroad, than have it starved at home.

Lure. I'm sorry, sir, you have so mean an opinion of my affection, as to imagine it founded upon your fortune. And, to convince you of your mistake, here I vow, by all that's sacred, I own the same affection now as before. Let it suffice, my fortune is considerable.

Stand. No, madam, no; I'll never be a charge.