white, and a long veil to cover the project; and we won't see one another's faces, till we have done something to be ashamed of-and then we'll blush once for all.

Re-enter ANGELICA, with TATTLE.

Jer. I'll take care, and

Val. Whisper.

Ang. Nay, Mr. Tattle, if you make love to me, you spoil my design; for I intend to make you my confidant. Scan. How's this? Tattle making love to Angelica! Tat. But, madam, to throw away your person, such a person! and such a fortune, on a madman!

Ang. I never loved him till he was mad; but don't tell any body so.

Tat. Tell, madam; alas, you don't know me.have much ado to tell your ladyship how long I have been in love with you-but, encouraged by the impossibility of Valentine's making any more addresses to you, I have ventured to declare the very inmost passion of my heart. Oh, madam, look upon us both. There you see the ruins of a poor decayed creature!-Here, a complete lively figure, with youth and health, and all his five senses in perfection, madam; and to all this, the most passionate lover

Ang. O, fie for shame, hold your tongue. A passionate lover, and five senses in perfection! When you are as mad as Valentine, I'll believe you love me; and the maddest shall take me.

Val. It is enough. Ha! who's there? Mrs. Frail. O Lord, her coming will spoil all. [To Jeremy. Jer. No, no, madam; he won't know her; if he should, I can persuade him.

Val. Scandal, who are these? Foreigners? If they are, I'll tell you what I think.-Get away all the company but Angelica, that I may discover my design to [Whispers. Scan. I will-I have discovered something of Tattle, that is of a piece with Mrs. Frail. He courts Ange

her.

lica; if we could contrive to couple them together—

Hark ye

[Whispers. Mrs. Fore. He won't know you, cousin; he knows nobody.

Fore. But he knows more than any body.-Oh, niece, he knows things past and to come, and all the profound secrets of time.

Tat. Look you, Mr. Foresight, it is not my way to make many words of matters, and so I shan't say much; but in short, d'ye see, I will hold you a hundred pounds now, that I know more secrets than he.

Fore. How? I cannot read that knowledge in your face, Mr. Tattle.-Pray what do you know?

Tat. Why, d'ye think I'll tell you, sir?—Read it in my face! No, sir, it is written in my heart; and safer there, sir, than letters written in juice of lemon, for no fire can fetch it out. I am no blab, sir.

Val. Acquaint Jeremy with it; he may easily bring it about. They are welcome, and I'll tell them so myself. [To Scandal] What, do you look strange upon ine? Then I must be plain. [Coming up to them] I am Honesty, and hate an old acquaintance with a new face. [Scandal goes aside with Jeremy. Tut. Do you know me, Valentine? Val. You? Who are you? I hope not. Tat, I am Jack Tattle, your friend.

Val. My friend! what to do? I am no married man, and thou canst not lie with my wife. I am very poor, and thou canst not borrow money of me. Then what employment have I for a friend?

Tat. Ha! a good open speaker, and not to be trusted with a secret.

Ang. Do you know me, Valentine?

Val. Oh, very well.

Ang. Who am I?

Val. You're a woman-one to whom heaven gave beanty, when it grafted roses on a briar. You are the reflection of heaven in a pond; and he that leaps at you is sunk. You are all white, a sheet of lovely spotless paper, when you were first born; but you are to

be scrawled and blotted by every goose's quill. I know you; for I loved a woman, and loved her so long, that I found out a strange thing; I found out what a woman was good for.

Tat. Ay, pr'ythee, what's that?

Val. Why, to keep a secret.

Tat. O Lord!

Val. O exceeding good to keep a secret: for though she should tell, yet she is not believed.

Tat. Ha! good again, faith.

Jer. I'll do't, sir.

[Jeremy and Scandal whisper.

Scan. Mr. Foresight, we had best leave him. He may grow outrageous, and do mischief.

Fore. Mercy on us.

[Exit. Jer. You'll meet, madam-I'll take care every thing shall be ready.

[To Mrs. Frail. Mrs. Frail. Thou shalt do what thou wilt; in short, I will deny thee nothing.

Tat. Madam, shall I wait upon you? [To Angelica. Ang. No, I'll stay with him.-Mr. Scandal will protect me. Aunt, Mr. Tattle desires you would give him leave to wait upon you.

Tat. Plague on't, there's no coming off, now she has said that [Aside]-Madam, will you do me the honour? Mrs. Fore. Mr. Tattle might have used less ceremony! [Exeunt Mrs. Frail, Mr. and Mrs. Foresight,

and Tattle.

Scan. Jeremy, follow Tattle. [Exit Jeremy. Ang. Mr. Scandal I only stay till my maid comes, and because I had a mind to be rid of Mr. Tattle.

Scan. Madam, I am very glad that I overheard a better reason which you gave to Mr. Tattle; for his impertinence forced you to acknowledge a kindness. for Valentine, which you denied to all his sufferings and my solicitations. So I'll leave him to make use of the discovery; and your ladyship to the free confession of your inclinations.

Ang. Oh, heavens! you won't leave me alone with a madman?

Scan. No, madam; I only leave a madman to his

remedy.

[Exit. Val. Madam, you need not be very much afraid, for I fancy I begin to come to myself.

Ang. Ay, but if I don't fit you, I'll be hang'd!

[Aside. Val. You see what disguises love makes us put on. Gods have been in counterfeited shapes for the same reason; and the divine part of me, my mind, has worn this mask of madness, and this motley livery, only as the slave of love, and menial creature of your beauty. Ang. Mercy on me, how he talks!-Poor Valentine! Val. Nay, faith, now let us understand one another, hypocrisy apart.-The comedy draws towards an end; and let us think of leaving acting, and be ourselves; and, since you have loved me, you must own, I have at length deserved you should confess it.

Ang. [Sighs] I would I had loved you!--for heaven knows, I pity you; and could I have foreseen the bad effects, I would have striven; but that's too late!

Val. What bad effects? what's too late?-My seeming madness has deceived my father, and procured me time to think of means to reconcile me to him, and preserve the right of my inheritance to his estate; which otherwise, by articles, I must this morning have resigned. And this I had informed you of to-day, but you were gone before I knew you had been here.

Ang. How? I thought your love of me had caused this transport in your soul; which, it seems you only counterfeited for mercenary ends and sordid interest.

Val. Nay, now you do me wrong; for, if any interest was considered, it was yours; since I thought I wanted more than love to make me worthy of you.

Ang. Then you thought me mercenary-But how am I deluded by this interval of sense, to reason with a madman?

Val. Oh, 'tis barbarous to misunderstand me longer.

Re-enter JEREMY.

Ang. Oh, here's a reasonable creature-sure he will

not have the impudence to persevere!-Come, Jeremy, acknowledge your trick, and confess your master's madness counterfeit.

Jer. Counterfeit, madam! I'll maintain him to be as absolutely and substantially mad, as any freeholder in Bedlam. Nay, he's as mad as any projector, fanatic, chymist, lover, or poet in Europe.

Val. Sirrah, you lie; I am not mad.

Ang. Ha, ha, ha! you see he denies it.

Jer. O Lord, madam, did you ever know any madman mad enough to own it?

Val. Sot, can't you apprehend?

Ang. Why, he talked very sensibly just now.

Jer. Yes, madam, he has intervals: but you see he begins to look wild again now.

Val. Why you thick-skulled rascal, I tell you the farce is done, and I'll be mad no longer. [Beats him. Ang. Ha, ha, ha! Is he mad or no, Jeremy?

Jer. Partly, I think-for he does not know his own nind two hours.-I'm sure I left him just now in the humour to be mad: and I think I have not found him very quiet at the present. [Knocking] Who's there?

Val. Go see, you sot. I'm very glad that I can nove your mirth, though not your compassion.

Ang. I did not think you had apprehension enough to be exceptious: but madmen show themselves most by over-pretending to a sound understanding, as drunken men do by over-acting sobriety. I was half inclining to believe you, till I accidentally touched upon your tender part. But now you have restored me to my former opinion and compassion.

I'm

Jer. Sir, your father has sent to know if you are any better yet. Will you please to be mad, sir, or how? Val. Stupidity! you know the penalty of all I'm worth must pay for the confession of my senses. mad, and will be mad, to every body but this lady. Jer. So-just the very backside of truth. But lying is a figure in speech, that interlards the greatest part of my conversation. [Aside] Madam, your ladyship's