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Old Mir. Come home? Bob come home? By the blood of the Mirabels! Mr. Dugard, what say you? Oriana. Mr. Mirabel returned, sir?
Dug. He's certainly come, and you may see him within this hour or two. [it. Old Mir. Swear it, Mr. Dugard, presently swear Dug. Sir, he came to town with me this morning. I left him at the baigneur's being a little disordered after riding, and I shall see him again presently.
Old Mir. What! and he was ashamed to ask a blessing with his boots on! A nice dog! Well, and how fares the young rogue, eh?
Dug. A fine gentleman, sir; he'll be his own messenger.
Old Mir. A fine gentleman! But is the rogue like me still?
Dug. Why, yes, sir; he's very like his mother, and as like you, as modern sons are to their fathers. [him? Old Mir. Why, sir, don't you think that I begat Dug. Why, yes, sir; you married his mother, and he inherits your estate. He's very like you, upon my word.
Oriana. And pray, brother, what's become of his honest companion, Duretete?
Dug. Who, the Captain? The very same, he went abroad; he's the only Frenchman I ever knew, that could not change. Your son, Mr. Mirabel, is more obliged to nature for that fellow's composition, than for his own: for he's more happy in Duretete's folly than his own wit. In short, they are as inseparable as finger and thumb; but the first instance in the world, I believe, of opposition in friendship. [think ye? Old Mir. Very well: will he be home to dinner, Dug. Sir, he has ordered me to bespeak a dinner, for us at Rousseau's, at a louis d'or a head.
Old Mir. A louis d'or a head! Well said, Bob. By the blood of the Mirabels! Bob's improved. But, Mr. Dugard, was it so civil of Bob, to visit Monsieur Rousseau before his own natural father, eh? Harkee, Oriana, what think you now of a fellow that can eat and drink ye a whole louis d'or at a sitting? He must be as strong as Hercules; life and spirit in abundance. Before gad, I don't wonder at these men of quality, that their own wives can't serve them! A louis d'or a head! 'tis enough to stock the whole nation with bastards; 't's, laith! Mr. Dugard, I leave you with your sister. [Exit. Dug. Well, sister, I need not ask you how you do, your looks resolve me; fair, tall, well-shaped; you're almost grown out of my remembrance.
Oriana. Why, truly, brother, I look pretty well, thank nature, and my toilet; I eat three men's a day, am very merry when up, and sleep soundly
when I'm down.
Dug. But, sister, you remember that upon my going abroad, you would choose this old gentleman for your guardian; he's no more related to our family than Prester-John, and I have no reason to think you mistrusted my management of your for tune; therefore, pray be so kind as to tell me, without reservation, the true cause of making such a choice.
Oriana. Lookye, brother, you were going a rambling, and 'twas proper, lest I should go a rambling too, that somebody should take care of me. Old Monsieur Mirabel is an honest gentleman, was our father's friend, and has a young lady in his house, whose company I like, and who has chosen him for her guardian as well as I.
Dug. Who, Mademoiselle Bisarre?
Oriana. The same: we lived merrily together,
without scandal or reproach; we make much of the old gentleman between us, and he takes care of us; all the week we dance and sing, and upon Sundays, we go first to church, and then to the play. Now, brother, besides these motives for choosing this gentleman as my guardian, perhaps I had some private reasons.
Dug. Not so private as you imagine, sister; your love to young Mirabel is no secret, I can assure you; but so public, that all your friends are ashamed on't.
Oriana. O' my word, then, my friends are very bashful; though I'm afraid, sir, that those people are not ashamed enough at their own crimes, who have so many blushes to spare for the faults of their neighbours.
Dug. Ay, but, sister, the people say
Oriana. Psha! hang the people! they'll talk treason and profane their maker; must we, therefore, infer, that our king is a tyrant, and religion a cheat? Lookye, brother; their court of inquiry is a tavern, and their informer, claret; they think as they drink, and swallow reputations like loaches; a lady's health goes briskly round with the glass, but her honour is lost in the toast.
Dug. Ay, but, sister, there is still somethingOriana. If there be something, brother, 'tis none of the people's something: marriage is my thing, and I'll stick to't.
Dug. Marriage! young Mirabel marry! he'll build churches sooner. Take heed, sister, though your honour stood proof to his home-bred assaults, you must keep a stricter guard for the future: he has now got the foreign air, and the Italian softness; his wit's improved by converse, his behaviour finished by observation, and his assurance confirmed by success. Sister, I can assure you he has made his conquests; and 'tis a plague upon your sex, to be the soonest deceived by those very men that you know have been false to others. But then, sister, he's as fickle→
Oriana. For God's sake, brother, tell me no more of his faults, for if you do, I shall run mad for him: say no more, sir; let me but get him into the bands of matrimony, I'll spoil his wandering, I warrant him; I'll do his business that way, never fear.
Dug. Well, sister, I won't pretend to understand the engagements between you and your lover; I expect when you have need of my counsel or assistance, you will let me know more of your affairs. Mirabel is a gentleman, and as far as my honour and interest can reach, you may command me to the furtherance of your happiness: in the meantime, stster, I have a great mind to make you a present of another humble servant; a fellow that I took up at Lyons, who has served me honestly
Oriana. Then why will you part with him?
Dug. He has gained so insufferably on my goodhumour, that he's grown too familiar; but the fellow's cunning, and may be serviceable to you in your affair with Mirabel. Here he comes. Enter PETIT.
Well, sir, have you been at Rousseau's?
Petit. Yes, sir; and who should I find there but Mr. Mirabel and the Captain, hatching as warmly over a tub of ice, as two hen-pheasants over a brood. They would not let me bespeak anything, for they had dined before I came.
Dug. Come, sir, you shall serve my sister; 1 shall still continue kind to you; and if your lady recommends your diligence upon trial, I'll use my interest to advance you. Wait on your lady home, l'etit.
Petit. A chair! a chair! a chair! Oriana. No, no, I'll walk home; door.
SCENE II-A Tavern.
'tis but next [Exeunt.
member who I am, sir: a person of quality to be used at this rate!" Egad, I'm struck as flat as a frying-pan.
Y. Mir. Words of course! never mind them: turn you about upon your heel, with a jántée air; YOUNG MIRABEL and DURETETE discover d, hum out the end of an old song; cut a eross caper, and at her again.
rising from table.
Y. Mir. Welcome to Paris once more, my dear Captain; we have eat heartily, drank roundly, pa d plentifully, and let it go for once. 11ked every thing but our women; they looked so lean and tawdry, poor creatures! 'Tis a sure sign the army is not paid. Give me the plump Venetian, brisk and sanguine, that smiles upon me like the glowing sun, and meets my lips like sparkling wine, her person shining as the glass, and spirit like the foaming liquor.
Dur Ah, Mirabel, Italy, I grant you; but for our women here in France, they are such thin, brown, fallen jades, a man may as well make a bed-fellow of a cane-chair.
Y. Mir. France! A light, unseasoned country; nothing but feathers, foppery, and fashions. There's nothing on this side the Alps worth my humble service t'ye. Ha! Roma la Santa! Italy for my money: Their customs, gardens, buildings, paintings, music, policies, wine and women! the paradise of the world! not pestered with a parcel of precise, old, gouty fellows, that would debar their children every pleasure that they themselves are past the sense of: commend me to the Italian familiarity-"Here, son, there's fifty crowns; go pay your girl her week's allowance."
Dur. Ay, these are your fathers for you, that understand the necessities of young men; not like our musty dads, who, because they cannot fish themselves, would muddy the water and spoil the sport of them that can. But now you talk of the plump, what d'ye think of a Dutch woman?
Y. Mir. A Dutch woman's too compact, nay, every thing among them is so; a Dutch man is thick, a Dutch woman is squab, a Dutch horse is round, a Dutch dog is short, a Dutch ship is broad bottomed; and, in short, one would swear, that the whole product of the country were cast in the same mould with their cheeses.
Dur. Ay, but Mirabel, you have forgot the English ladies.
Y. Mir. The women of England were excellent, did they not take such insufferable pains to ruin, what nature has made so incomparably well; they would be delicate creatures, indeed, could they but thoroughly arrive at the French mien, or entirely let it alone; for they only spoil a very good air of their own, by an awkward imitation of ours. But, come, Duretete, let us mind the business in hand; mistresses we must have, and must take up with the manufacture of the place; and upon a competent diligence, we shall find those in Paris shall match the Italians from top to toe.
Dur. Ay, Mirabel, you will do well enough, but what will become of your friend? you know, I am so plaguy bashful; so naturally an ass upon these occasions, that
Y. Mir. Psha! you must be bolder, man! Travel three years, and bring home such a baby as bashfulness! A great lusty fellow, and a soldier! fe upon it!
Dur. Lookye, sir, I can visit, and I can ogle a little, as thus, or thus, now. Then I can kiss abundantly; but if they chance to give me a forbidding look, as some women, you know, have a devilish cast with their eyes-or if they cry "What do you mean? what d'ye take me for? Fie, sir, re
Dur. (Imitates him.) No, hang it! 'twill never do. Oons! what did my father mean, by sticking me up in an university, or to think that I should gain anything by my head, in a nation whose genius lies all in their heels! Well, if ever I come to have children of my own, they shall have the education of the country; they shall learn to dance before they can walk, and be taught to sing before they can speak.
Y. Mir. Come, come, throw off that childish humour; put on assurance, there's no avoiding it; stand all hazards; thou'rt a stout, lusty fellow, and hast a good estate; look bluff, hector, you have à good side-box face, a pretty impudent face; so, that's pretty well. This fellow went abroad like an ox, and is returned like an ass. (Aside.)
Dur. Let me see, now, how I look. (Pulls out a pocket-glass, and looks on it.) A side-box face, say you? Egad! I don't like it, Mirabel. Fie, sir, don't abuse your friends! I could not wear such a face for the best countess in Christendom.
Y. Mir. Why can't you, blockhead, as well as I? Dur. Why, thou hast impudence to set a good face upon anything: I would change half my gold for half thy brass, with all my heart. Who comes here? Odso! Mirabel, your father. Enter OLD MIRABEL. Old Mir. Where's Bob? Dear Bob! Y. Mir. Your blessing, sir!.
Old Mir. My blessing? D-n ye, ye young rogue, why did not you come to see your father first, sirrah? My dear boy, I am heartily glad to see thee, my dear child, 'faith! Captain Duretete, by the blood of the Mirabels, I'm yours! Well, my lads, ye look bravely, 'faith! Bob, hast got any money left?
Y. Mir. Not a farthing, sir.
Old Mir. Why then, I won't give thee a sous.
Old Mir. Why, then, here's ten more: I love to be charitable to those that don't want it. Well, and how do you like Italy, my boys?
Y. Mir. O, the garden of the world, sir! Rome, Naples, Venice, Milan, and a thousand others, all fine. [Chiari is very fine too.
Old Mir. Ay, say you so? And they say, that Dur. Indifferent, sir, very indifferent; a very scurvy air, the most unwholesome to a French consituation in the world.
Y. Mir. Psha! nothing on't: these rascally gazetteers have misinformed you.
Old Mir. Misinformed me? Qons, sir! were wo not beaten there?
1. Mir. Beater, sir? We beaten?
Y. Mir. The Captain was in the action, sir. Dur. Your son saw more than I, sir, for he was a looker-on.
Old Mir. Confound you both, for a brace of cowards! here are no Germans to overhear you. Why don't ye tell me how it was?
Y. Mir. Why, then, you must know, that we marched up a body of the finest, bravest, welldressed fellows in the universe; our commanders at the head of us, all lace and feather, like so many
beaux at a ball; I don't believe there was a man of them but could dance a charmer, morbleu!
Old Mir. Dance! very well, pretty fellows, 'faith! Y. Mir. We capered up to their very trenches, there saw, peeping over, a parcel of scare-crow, olive-coloured, gunpowder fellows, as ugly as the
Dur. Egad! I shall never forget the looks of them, while I have breath to fetch.
Y. Mir. They were so civil, indeed, as to welcome us with their cannon; but, for the rest, we found them such unmannerly, rude, unsociable dogs, that we grew tired of their company, and so we e'en danced back again.
Old Mir. And did ye all come back? Y. Mir. No, two or three thousand of us staid Old Mir. Why, Bob, why? [behind. Y. Mir. Psha! because they could not come that night. [night. Dur. No, sir, because they could not come that Y. Mir. But come, sir, we were talking of something else; pray, how does your lovely charge, the fair Oriana?
Old Mir. Ripe, sir, just ripe; you'll find it better engaging with her than with the Germans, let me tell you. And what would you say, my young Mars. if I had a Venus for thee too? Come, Bob, your apartment is ready, and pray let your friend be my guest too; you shall command the house between ye, and I'll be as merry as the best of you. [Exeunt.
SCENE I.-Old Mirabel's house.
Bis. And you love this young rake, d'ye?
Bis. In spite of all his ill usage?
Bis. What's the matter wi' ye?
Bis. Um! Before that any young, lying, swearing flattering, rakehelly fellow, should play such tricks with me,-O, the devil take all your Cassandras, and Cleopatras for me. I warrant now, you'll play the fool when he comes, and say you love him: eh?
Oriana. Most certainly; I can't dissemble, Bisarre; besides, 'tis past that, we're contracted.
Bis. Contracted; alack-a-day, poor thing! What, you have changed rings, or broken an old broad piece between you! I would make a fool of any fellow in France. Well, I must confess, I do love a little coquetting with all my heart. My business should be to break gold with my lover one hour, and crack my promise the next; he should find me one day with a prayer-book in my hand, and with a play-book another. He should have my consent to buy the wedding-ring, and the next moment would I ask him his name.
Oriana. O, my dear, were there no greater tie upon my heart, than there is upon my conscience, I would soon throw the contract out of doors; but the mischief on't is, I am so fond of being tied, that I'm forced to be just, and the strength of my passion keeps down the inclination of my sex. Bis. But here's the old gentleman.
Enter OLD MIRABEL.
Old Mr. Where's my wenches? where's my two little girls? Eh, have a care - look to yourself, 'faith, they're a coming; the travellers are a coming. Well, which of you two will be my daughter-in-law now? Bisarre, Bisarre, what say you, madcap? Mirabel is a pure wild fellow.
Bis. I like him the worse.
Old Mir. You lie, hussy, you like him the better, indeed you do. What say you, my t'other little filbert, eh?
Oriana. I suppose the gentleman will choose for himself, sir. [shall. Old Mir. Why, that's discreetly said, and so he Enter MIRABEL and DURELETE; they salute the Ladies.
Bob, harkye, you shall marry one of these girls, sirrah!
Y. Mir. Sir, I'll marry them both, if you please. Bis. (Aside.) He'll find that one may serve his
Old Mir. Both? why, you young dog, d'ye banter me? Come, sir, take your choice. Duretete, you shall have your choice, too, but Robin shall choose first. Come, sir, begin. Well, which dy'e like? Y. Mir. Both.
Old Mir. But which will you marry?
Old Mir. Neither? Don't make me angry now, Bob; pray don't make me angry. Lookye, sirrrah, if I don't dance at your wedding to-morrow, I shall be very glad to dance at your grave.
Y. Mir That's a bull, father.
Old Mir. A bull! Why, how now, ungrateful sir, did I make thee a man, that thou shouldst make me a beast? [expression.
Y. Mir. Your pardon, sir; I only meant your Old Mir. Harkye, Bob, learn better manners to your father before strangers. I won't be angry this time: but, oons! if ever you do't again, your rascal! Remember what I say. [Exit.
Y. Mir. Psha! what does the old fellow mean by mewing me up with a couple of green girls? Come, Duretete, will you go?
Oriana. I hope, Mr. Mirabel, you ha'n't forgotY. Mir. No, no, madam, I ha'n't forgot I have brought you a thousand little Italian curiosities: I'll assure you, madam, as far as a hundred pistoles would reach, I ha'n't forgot the least circumstance. Oriana. Sir, you misunderstand me.
Y. Mir. Odso! the relics, madam, from Rome. I do remember, now you made a vow of chastity before my departure; a vow of chastity or something like it was it not, madam?
Oriana. O, sir, I'm answered at present. Y. Mir. She was coming full mouth upon me with her contract: 'would I might dispatch t'ther!
Dur. Mirabel, that lady there, observe her; she's wondrous pretty, 'faith! and seems to have but few words; I like her mainly: speak to her, man, pr'ythee, speak to her.
Y. Mir. Madam, here's a gentleman, who declares
Dur. Madam, don't believe him; I declare nothing. What the devil do you mean, man?
Y Mir. He says, madam, that you are as beautiful as an angel.
Dur. He tells a d-d lie, madam! I say no such thing. Are you mad, Mirable? Why, I shall drop down with shame.
Y. Mir. And so, madam, not doubting but your ladyship may like him as well as he does you, I think it proper to leave you together. (Going, Duretete holds him.)
Dur. Hold, hold. Why, Mirabel, friend, sure you won't be so barbarous as to leave me alone! Pr'ythee, speak to her for yourself, as it were, Lord, Lord, that a Frenchman should want impudence.
Y. Mir. You look mighty demure, madam. She's deaf, Captain.
Dur. I had much rather have her dumb. Y. Mir. The gravity of your air, madam, promises some extraordinary fruits from your study, which moves us with curiosity to inquire the subject of your ladyship's contemplation. Not a word! Dur. I hope in the Lord she's speechless: if she be, she's mine this moment. Mirabel, d'ye think a woman's silence can be natural?
Bis. But the forms which logicians introduce, and which proceed from simple enumeration, are dubitable, and proceed only upon admittance."
Y. Mir. Hoyty toyty! what a plague have we here? Plato in petticoats!
Dur. Ay, ay, let her go on, man; she talks in my own mother tongue.
Bis. "Tis exposed to invalidity, from a contradictory instance; looks only upon common operations, and is infinite in its termination.
Y. Mir. Rare pedantry!
Dur. Axioms! axioms! self-evident principles ! Bis. Then the ideas wherewith the mind is preoccupate,-O gentlemen, I hope you'll pardon my cogitation; I was involved in a profound point of philosophy, but I shall discuss it somewhere else, being satisfied that the subject is not agreeable to you sparks, that profess the vanity of the times.
Y. Mir. Go thy way, good wife Bias. Do you hear, Duretete? Dost hear this starched piece of austerity?
Dur. She's mine, man, she's mine; my own talent to a T. I'll match her in dialectics, 'faith; I was seven years at the university, man, nursed up with Barbaro, Celarunt, Darii, Ferio, Baralipton. Did you ever know, man, that 'twas metaphysics made me an ass? It was 'faith? Had she talked a word of singing, dancing, plays, fashions, or the like, I had foundered at the first step; but as she is -Mirabel, wish me joy!
Y. Mir. You don't mean marriage, I hope. Mur. No, no, I am a man of more honour. Y. Mir. Bravely resolved, Captain! now for thy credit: warm me this frozen snowball; 'twill be a conquest above the Alps!
Dur. But will you promise to be always near me? Y. Mir. Upon all occasions, never fear.
Dur. Why, then, you shall see me in two moments make an induction from my love to her hand, from her hand to her mouth, from her mouth to her heart, and so conclude in her bed, categorematice.
Y. Mir. Now the game begins, and my fool is entered. But here comes one to spoil my sport; now shall I be teased to death, with this old-fashioned contract! I should love her, too, if I might do it my own way, but she'll do nothing without witnesses, forsooth: I wonder women can be so immodest! Enter ORIANA.
Well, madam, why d'ye follow me?
Oriana. Well, sir, why do you shun me?
Oriana. Come, Mr. Mirabel, these expressions I expected from the raillery of your humour, but I hope for very different sentiments from your honour and generosity.
Y. Mir. Look ye, madam, as for my generosity, 'tis at your service, with all my heart: I'll keep you a coach and six horses, if you please, only permit me to keep my honour to myself. Consider, madam, you have no such thing among ye, and 'tis a main point of policy to keep no faith with reprobates thou art a pretty little reprobate, and sʊ get thee about thy business.
Oriana. Well, sir, even all this I will allow to the gaiety of your temper; your travels have improved your talent of talking, but they are not of force, I hope, to impair your morals.
Y. Mir. Morals! why there 'tis again now! I tell thee, child, there is not the least occasion for morals, in any business between you and I. Don't you know that, of all commerce in the world, there is no such cozenage and deceit, as in the traffic between man and woman? We study all our lives long, how to put tricks upon one another. No fowler lays abroad more nets for his game, nor a hunter for his prey, than you do, to catch poor innocent men. Why do you sit three or four hours at your toilet in a morning? only with a villanous design to make some poor fellow a fool before night. What d'ye sigh for? What d'ye weep for? What d'ye pray for? why, for a husband: that is, you implore Providence to assist you, in the just and pious design, of making the wisest of his creatures a fool, and the head of the creation a slave. Oriana. Sir, I am proud of my power, and am resolved to use it.
Y. Mir. Hold, hold, madam, not so fast: as you have variety of vanities to make coxcombs of us, so we have vows, oaths, and protestations, of all sorts and sizes, to make fools of you; and this, in short, my dear creature, is our present condition I have sworn and lied briskly, to gain my ends of you; your ladyship has patched and painted violently, to gain your ends of me; but, since we are both disappointed, let us make a drawn battle, and part clear on both sides.
Oriana. With all my heart, sir; give me up my contract, and I'll never see your face again. Y. Mir. Indeed, I won't child.
Oriana. What, sir! neither do one nor t'other. Y. Mir. No, you shall die a maid; unless you please to be otherwise, upon my terms.
Oriana. What do you intend by this, sir? Y. Mir. Why, to starve you into compliance: lookye, you shall never marry any man; and you had as good let me do you a kindness as a stranger. Oriana. Sir, you're a
Y. Mir. What am I, ma'am?
Y. Mir. I'm glad on't; I never knew an honest fellow in my life, but was a villain upon these occa
Y. Mir. "Tis my humour, madam; and I'm na- sions. Ha'n't you drawn yourself, now, into a very turally swayed by inclination.
Oriana. Have you forgot our contract, sir?
Y. Mir. All I remember of that contract is, that it was made some three years ago; and that's enough, in conscience, to forget the rest on't.
Oriana. Tis sufficient, sir, to recollect the passing of it; for, in that circumstance, I presume, lies the force of the obligation.
Y. Mir. Obligations, madam, that are forced upon the will, are no tie upon the conscience; I was a slave to my passion, when I passed the instrument, but the recovery of my freedom makes the .contract void.
pretty dilemma? ha, ha, ha! the poor lady has made a vow of virginity, when she thought of making a vow to the contrary. Was ever poor woman so cheated into chastity?
Oriana. Sir, my fortune is equal to yours, my friends as powerful, and both shall be put to the test, to do me justice.
Y. Mir. What! you'll force me to marry you will ye?
Oriana. The law shall.
Y. Mir. But the law can't force me to do any thing else, can it?
Oriana. Psha! I despise thee, monster!
Dur. Eh? the devil such a word is there in all Aristotle!
Y. Mir. Kiss, and be friends, then: don't cry, child, and you shall have your sugar-plum. Come, madam, d'ye think I could be so unreasonable as to make you fast all your life long? No, I did but jest, you shall have your liberty; here, take your contract, and give me mine.
Oriana. No, I won't.
Y. Mir. Eh! what, is the girl a fool?
Oriana. No, sir, you shall find me cunning enough to do myself justice; and, since I must not depend upon your love, I'll be revenged, and force you to marry me, out of spite.
Y. Mir. Then I'll beat thee out of spite, and make a most confounded husband.
Oriana. O, sir, I shall match ye! A good husband makes a good wife at any time.
Y. Mir. I'll rattle down your china about your
Oriana. And I'll rattle about the city, to run you in debt for more.
F. Mir. I'll tear the furbelow off your clothes, and, when you swoon for vexation, you shan't have. a penny to buy a bottle of hartshorn.
Oriana. And you, sir, shall have hartshorn in abundance.
Y. Mir. I'll keep as many mistresses as I have coach horses.
Oriana. And I'll keep as many gallants as you have grooms.
Y. Mir. But, sweet madam, there is such a thing as a divorce.
Oriana. But, sweet sir, there is such a thing as alimony! so divorce on, and spare not. [Exit. Y. Mir. Ay, that separate maintenance is the devil! there's their refuge! O, my conscience, one would take cuckoldom for a meritorious action, because the women are so handsomely rewarded for it. [Exit.
Enter DURETETE and PETIT.
Dur. And she's mighty peevish, you say? Petit. O sir, she has a tongue as long as my leg, and talks so crabbedly, you would think she always spoke Welsh.
Dur. That's an odd language, methinks, for her. philosophy.
Petit. But sometimes she will sit you half a day without speaking a word, and talk oracles all the while by the wrinkles of her forehead, and the motions of her eyebrows.
Dur. Nay, I shall match her in philosophical ogles, faith; that's my talent: I can talk best, you must know, when I say nothing.
Petit. But d'ye ever laugh, sir?
Dur. Laugh? Won't she endure laughing?
Petit. Why, she's a critic, sir; she hates a jest, for fear it should please her; and nothing keeps her in humour, but what gives her the spleen. And then, for logic, and all that, you know
Dur. Ay, ay, I'm prepared; I have been practising hard words, and no sense, this hour, to
Bis. Come, wench, let's be free; call in the fiddle, there's nobody near us.
Dur. 'Would to the Lord there was not! Bis. Here, friend, a minuet. (Music.) Quicker time! ha! 'would we had a man or two!
Dur. (Stealing away.) You shall have the devil. sooner. my dear, dancing philosopher! Bis. Ud's my life! Here's one! (Runs to Duretele, and hales him back.)
Dur. Is all my learned preparation come to this? Bis. Come, sir, don't be so ashamed, that's my good boy; you're very welcome, we wanted such a one: Come, strike up. (Dance.) I know you dance well, sir; you're finely shaped for't. Come,. come, sir; quick! quick! you miss the time else. Dur. But, madam, I come to talk with you. Bis. Ay, ay; talk as you dance, talk as you dance. Come!
Dur. But we were talking of dialectics.
Bis. Hang dialectics! (Music.) Mind the time! quicker, sirrah! Come!-and how d ye find yourself now, sir?
Dur. In a fine breathing sweat, doctor.
Bis. All the better, patient, all the better. Come,, sir, sing now, sing; I know you sing well: I see: you have a singing face; a heavy, dull, sonata face. Dur. Who, I sing?
Bis. O, you're modest, sir; but come, sit down. closer-closer. Here, a bottle of wine! [Exit Maid, and returns with wine.) Come, sir sing, sir. Dur. But, madam, I came to talk with you. Bis. O sir, you shall drink first. Come, fill me a bumper; here, sir, bless the king!
Dur. 'Would I were out of his dominions! By this light, she'll make me drunk, too!
Bis. O. pardon me, sir, you shall do me right; fillit higher. Now, sir, can you drink a health under your leg?
Dur. Rare philosophy that, 'faith!
d'ye like me, sir? Bis. Come, off with it to the bottom? Now, how
Dur. O, mighty well, madam!
Bis. You see how a woman's fancy varies! some-. times, splenetic and heavy, then, gay and frolickAnd how d'ye like the humour? Dur. Good madam, let me sit down to answer you, for I am heartily tired.
for shame, and walk about. Action becomes us;Bis. Fie upon it! a young man, and tired! up, a little faster, sir. What d'ye think now of my Lady La Pale, and Lady Coquet, the duke's fair daughter? Ha' Are they not brisk lasses? Then there is black Mrs. Bellair, and brown Mrs, Bell-..
Dur. They are all strangers to me, madam.
Bis. But, let me tell you, sir, that brown is not. Bagatelle had kept herself single till this time always despicable. O lard, sir, if young Mrs. enter-o'day, what a beauty there had been! And then, you know, the charming Mrs. Monkeylove, the fair gem of St. Germain's.
Petit. Then place yourself behind this screen that you may have a view of her behaviour before you begin.
Dur. I long to engage her, lest I should forget
Petit. Here she comes, sir; I must fly.
[Exit Petit, and Duretete stands peeping behind the curtain.
Enter BISARRE and Maid.
Bis. (With a book.) Psha! hang books! they sour our temper, spoil our eyes, and ruin our complexions. (Throws away the book.)
Dur. Upon my soul, I don't!
lish beau, Spleenamore, how unlike a gentleman. Bis. And then, you must have heard of the EngDur. Hey! not a syllable on't, as I hope to bo saved, madam!
Bis No! Why, then, play me a jig. (Music.) Come, sir.
Dur. By this light, I cannot! 'faith, madam, I have sprained my leg!
Bis. Then sit you down, sir; and now tell me, what's your business with me? What's your