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Sir Fran. No, by my troth, so it seems! for the devil o' one thing's here, that I can see you have any occasion for.

Lady Wrong. My dear, do you think I came hither to live out of the fashion? Why, the greatest distinction of a fine lady, in this town, is in the variety of pretty things that she has no occasion for.

Jenny. Sure, papa, could you imagine that women of quality wanted nothing but stays and petticoats?

Lady Wrong. Now, that is so like him! Man. So, the family comes on finely. [Aside. Lady Wrong. Lard, if men were always to govern, what dowdies they would reduce their wives to!

Sir Fran. An hundred pound in the morning, and want another afore night! Waunds and fire! | The lord mayor of London could not hold at this rate!

Man. Oh, do you feel it, sir! [Aside. Lady Wrong. My dear, you seem uneasy; let me have the hundred pound, and compose yourself.

Sir Fran. Compose the devil, madam! Why, do you consider what a hundred pound a-day comes to in a year?

Lady Wrong. My life! if I account with you from one day to another, that's really all my head is able to bear at a time-But I'll tell you what, I consider I consider that my advice has got you a thousand pound a-year this morningThat, now, methinks, you might consider, sir.

Sir Fran. A thousand a-year! Waunds, madam, but I have not touched a penny of it yet. Man. Nor ever will, I'll answer for him.

Enter SQUIRE RICHARD.

[Aside.

Squire Rich. Feyther, an you doan't come quickly, the meat will be cooled: and I'd fain pick a bit with you.

Lady Wrong. Bless me, sir Francis! You are not going to sup by yourself?

Sir Fran. No, but I'm going to dine by myself, and that's pretty near the matter, madam.

Lady Wrong. Had not you as good stay a little, my dear? We shall all eat in half an hour; and I was thinking to ask my cousin Manly to take a family morsel with us.

Sir Fran. Nay, for my cousin's good company, I don't care if I ride a day's journey without baiting.

Man. By no means, sir Francis. I am going upon a little business.

Sir Fran. Well, sir; I know you don't love compliments.

Man. You'll excuse me, madam— Lady Wrong. Since you have business, sir-[Exit MANLY.

Enter MRS MOTHERLY.

Oh, Mrs Motherly! You were saying this morning you had some very fine lace to shew meCannot I see it now?

[SIR FRANCIS stares.

Moth. Why, really, madam, I had made a sort. of a promise to let the countess of Nicely have the birth sight of it for the first day but your ladyship

Lady Wrong. Oh! I die if I don't see it before her!

Squire Rich. Woan't you go, feyther? [Apart, Sir Fran. Waunds, lad! I shall ha' noa sto mach at this rate. [Apart. Moth. Well, madam, though I say it, 'tis the sweetest pattern that ever came over-and for fineness-no cobweb comes up to it!

Sir Fran. Ods guts and gizzard, madam! Lace as fine as a cobweb! Why, what the devil's that to cost, now?

Moth. Nay, if sir Francis does not like it, ma

dam

Lady Wrong. He like it! Dear Mrs Motherly, he is not to wear it.

Sir Fran. Flesh, madam! But I suppose I am to pay for it?

Lady Wrong. No doubt on't! Think of your thousand a-year, and who got it you; go! eat your dinner, and be thankful, go!--[Driving him to the door.]--Come, Mrs Motherly.

[Exit LADY WRONGHEAD with MRS Mo

THERLY.

Sir Fran. Very fine! So, here I mun fast, till I am almost famished, for the good of my country, while madam is laying me out an hundred pound a-day in lace as fine as a cobweb, for the honour of my family! Ods flesh! Things had need go well at this rate!

Squire Rich. Nay, nay-Come, feyther. [Exeunt SIR FRANCIS and SQUIRE RICHARD.

Enter MRS MOTHERLY.

Moth. Madam, my lady desires you and the count will please to come and assist her fancy in some of the new laces.

Count Bas. We'll wait upon her—~ [Exit MRS MOTHERLY. Jenny. So, I told you how it was! You see she cannot bear to leave us together.

Count Bas. No matter, my dear: you know she has asked me to stay supper: so, when your papa and she are a-bed, Mrs Myrtilla will let me into the house again; then you may steal into her chamber, and we'll have a pretty sneaker of punch together.

Myr. Ay, ay, madam; you may command me in any thing.

Jenny. Well, that will be pure!

Count Bas. But you had best go to her alone, my life: it will look better if I come after you.

Jenny. Ay, so it will: and to-morrow you is always open to the masks upon a ball-night, know at the masquerade-and then! before they go to the Hay-market.

SONG.

Oh, I'll have a husband! aye, marry ;
For why should I longer tarry,
For why should I longer tarry,

Than other brisk girls have done?
For if I stay till I grow grey,

They'll call me old maid, and fusty old jade ;
So I'll no longer tarry;
But I'll have a husband, aye, marry,
If money can buy me one.

My mother, she says, I'm too coming;
And still in my ears she is drumming,
And still in my ears she is drumming,

That I such vain thoughts should shun.
My sisters they cry, oh, fy! and, oh, fy!
But yet I can see, they're as coming as me;
So let me have husbands in plenty :
I'd rather have twenty times twenty,
Than die an old maid undone.

[Exit.

Myr. So, sir, am not I very commode to you? Count Bas. Well, child, and don't you find your account in it? Did I not tell you we might still be of use to one another?

Myr. Well, but how stands your affair with miss in the main?

Count Bas. Oh, she's mad for the masquerade! It drives like a nail; we want nothing now but a parson to clinch it. Did not your aunt say she could get one at a short warning? Myr. Yes, yes; my lord Townly's chaplain is her cousin, you know; he'll do your business and mine, at the same time.

Count Bas. Oh, 'tis true! but where shall we appoint him?

Myr. Why, you know my lady Townly's house

SCENE I.-LORD TOWNLY's house.

Count Bas. Good.

Myr. Now, the doctor purposes we should all come thither in our habits, and, when the rooms are full, we may steal up into his chamber, he says, and there- -crack- -he'll give us all canonical commission to go to-bed together.

Count Bas. Admirable! Well, the devil fetch me, if I shall not be heartily glad to see thee well settled, child!

Myr. And may the black gentleman tuck me under his arm at the same time, if I shall not think myself obliged to you as long as I live!

Count Bas, One kiss for old acquaintance sake-Egad, I shall want to be busy again.

Myr. Oh, you'll have one shortly will find you employment: but I must run to my 'squire. Count Bas. And I to the ladies so your humble servant, sweet Mrs Wronghead!

Myr. Yours, as in duty bound, most noble Count Basset. [Exit MYR.

Count Bas. Why, ay! count! That title has been of some use to me, indeed; not that I have any more pretence to it, than I have to a blue ribband, Yet, I have made a pretty considerable figure in life with it. I have lolled in my own chariot, dealt at assemblies, dined with ambassadors, and made one at quadrille with the first women of quality-But-tempora matantur; since that damned squadron at White's have left me out of their last secret, I am reduced to trade upon my own stock of industry, and make my last push upon a wife. If my card comes up right (which, I think, cannot fail) I shall once more cut a figure, and cock my hat in the face of the best of them: for, since our modern men of fortune are grown wise enough to be sharpers, I think sharpers are fools that don't take up the airs of men of quality.

ACT V.

Enter MANLY and LADY GRACE. Man. THERE's something, madam, hangs upon your mind to-day: is it unfit to trust me with it?

Lady Grace. Since you will know-my sister, then-unhappy woman!

Man. What of her?

Lady Grace. I fear is on the brink of ruin. Man. I am sorry for it—What has happened?

Lady Grace. Nothing so very new; but the continual repetition of it at last has raised my brother to an intemperance that I tremble at.

Man. Have they had any words upon it?

[Exit.

Lady Grace. He has not seen her since yesterday.

Man. What! not at home all night? Lady Grace. About five this morning, in she came; but, with such looks, and such an equipage of misfortune at her heels-What can become of her?

Man. Has not my lord seen her, say you? Lady Grace. No; he changed his bed last night I sat with him alone till twelve, in expec tation of her: but when the clock struck, he started from his chair, and grew incensed to that degree, that, had I not, almost on my knees, dissuaded him, he had ordered the doors, that instant, to have been locked against her.

Man. How terrible is his situation, when the most justifiable severities he can use against her

are liable to the mirth of all the dissolute card- | tables in town!

Lady Grace. 'Tis that, I know, has made him bear so long but you that feel for him, Mr Manly, will assist him to support his honour, and, if possible, preserve his quiet; therefore, I beg you, don't leave the house, till one or both of them can be wrought to better temper.

Man. How amiable is this concern in you! Lady Grace. For Heaven's sake, don't mind me; but think on something to preserve us all!

Man. I shall not take the merit of obeying your commands, madam, to serve my lord-But, pray, madam, let me into all that has past since yesternight.

Lady Grace. When my intreaties had prevailed upon my lord, not to make a story for the town, by so public a violence, as shutting her at once out of his doors, he ordered an apartment next to my lady's to be made ready for himWhile that was doing, I tried, by all the little arts I was mistress of, to amuse him into temper; in short, a silent grief was all I could reduce him to. On this, we took our leaves, and parted to our repose: what his was, I imagine by my own; for I ne'er closed my eyes. About five, as I told you, I heard my lady at the door; so I slipped on a gown, and sat almost an hour with her in her own chamber.

Man. What said she, when she did not find my lord there?

Lady Grace. Oh! so far from being shocked, or alarmed at it, that she blessed the occasion; and said, that, in her condition, the chat of a fe male friend was far preferable to the best husband's company in the world.

Man. Where has she the spirits to support so much insensibility?

Lady Grace. Nay, 'tis incredible; for, though she had lost every thing she had in the world, and stretched her credit even to breaking, she rallied her own follies with such vivacity, and painted the penance she knows she must undergo for them in such ridiculous lights, that had not my concern for a brother been too strong for her wit, she had almost disarmed my

anger.

Man. Her mind may have another cast by this time the most flagrant dispositions have their hours of anguish, which their pride conceals from company. But pray, madam, how could she avoid coming down to dine?

Lady Grace. Oh! she took care of that before she went to bed, by ordering her woman, whenever she was asked for, to say she was not well.

Man. You have seen her since she was up, I presume?

Lady Grace. Up! I question whether she be awake yet.

Man. Terrible! what a figure does she make now! That nature should throw away so much

|

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beauty upon a creature, to make such a slatternly use of it!

Lady Grace. Oh, fy! there is not a more elegant beauty in town, when she is dressed. Man. In my eye, madam, she that's early dressed has ten times her elegance.

Lady Grace. But she won't be long now, I believe; for, I think, I see her chocolate going up-Mrs Trusty--a-hem!

MRS TRUSTY comes to the door.

Man. [Aside.] Five o'clock in the afternoon for a lady of quality's breakfast, is an elegant hour, indeed! which, to shew her more polite way of living, too, I presume she eats in her bed.

Lady Grace. [To MRS TRUSTY.] And when she is up, I would be glad she would let me come to her toilet-That's all, Mrs Trusty. Trusty. I will be sure to let her ladyship know, madam. [Exit.

Enter a Servant.

Ser. Sir Francis Wronghead, sir, desires to speak with you.

Man. He comes unseasonably-What shall I do with him?

Lady Grace. Oh, see him, by all means! we shall have time enough; in the mean while, I'll step in, and have an eye upon my brother. Nay, don't mind me-you have busi

ness

Man. You must be obeyed

[Retreating, while LADY GRACE goes out. Desire sir Francis to walk in-[Exit Servant.] I suppose, by this time, his wise worship begins to find, that the balance of his journey to London is on the wrong side.

Enter SIR FRANCIS WRONGHEAD.

Sir Francis, your servant. How came 1 by the favour of this extraordinary visit? Sir Fran. Ah, cousin!

Man. Why that sorrowful face, man? Sir Fran. I have no friend alive but youMan. I am sorry for that-But what's the matter?

Sir Fran. I have played the fool by this journey, I see now-for my bitter wifeMan. What of her? Sir Fran. Is playing the devil!

Man. Why, truly, that's a part that most of your fine ladies begin with, as soon as they get to London.

Sir Fran. If I'm a living man, cousin, she has made away with above two hundred and fifty pounds since yesterday morning!

Man. Ha! I see a good housewife will do a great deal of work in a little time.

Sir Fran. Work, do they call it? Fine work, indeed!

Man. Well, but how do you mean made away

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Man. Indeed, I think so; and, in the country, might have served her a twelvemonth.

Sir Fran. Why, so it night-but here, in this fine town, forsooth, it could not get through four-and-twenty hours-for, in half that time, it was all squandered away in bawbles, and newfashioned trumpery.

Man. Oh! for ladies in London, sir Francis, all this might be necessary.

Sir Fran. Noa, there's the plague on't; the devil o' one useful thing do I see for it, but two pair of laced shoes, and those stond me in three pounds three shillings a pair, too.

Man. Dear sir, this is nothing! Why we have city wives here, that, while their good man is selling three pennyworth of sugar, will give you twenty pounds for a short apron.

Sir Fran. Mercy on us, what a mortal poor devil is a husband!

Man. Well, but I hope you have nothing else to complain of?

Sir Fran. Ah, would I could say so, too!-but there's another hundred behind yet, that goes more to my heart than all that went before

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Sir Fran. Why, she has been at an assembly. Man. What, since I saw you! I thought you had all supped at home last night.

Sir Fran. Why, so we did-and all as merry as grigs-l'cod, my heart was so open, that I tossed another hundred into her apron, to go out early this morning with- -But the cloth was no sooner taken away, than in comes my lady Townly here, (who, between you and I ---mum---has had the devil to pay yonder) with another rantipole dame of quality, and out they must have her, they said, to introduce her at my lady Noble's assembly, forsooth A few words, you may be sure, made the bargain---so, bawnce! and away they drive, as if the devil had got into the coach-box---so, about four or five in the morning---home comes madam, with her eyes a foot deep in her head-- and my poor hundred pounds left behind her at the hazardtable!

Man. All lost at dice!

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Man. What, before you had it yourself?

Sir Fran. Why, ay; that's what I told herMy dear, said I, mayhap I may'nt receive the first quarter on't this half year.

Man. Sir Francis, I have heard you with a great deal of patience, and I really feel compassion for you.

Sir Fran. Truly, and well you may, cousin; for I don't see that my wife's goodness is a bit the better for bringing to London.

it.

Man. If you remember, I gave you a hint of

Sir Fran. Why, ay, it's true, you did so: but the devil himself could not have believed she would have rid post to him.

Man. Sir, if you stay but a fortnight in this town, you will every day see hundreds as fast upon the gallop as she is.

Sir Fran. Ah, this London is a base place, indeed !---Waunds! if things should happen to go wrong with me at Westminster, at this rate, how the devil shall I keep out of a jail?

Man. Why, truly, there seems to me but one way to avoid it.

Sir Fran. Ah, would you could tell me that, cousin!

Man. The way lies plain before you, sir; the same road, that brought you hither, will carry you safe home again.

Sir Fran. Ods-flesh, cousin! what! and leave a thousand pounds a-year behind me?

Man. Pooh, pooh! leave any thing behind you, but your family, and you are a saver by it. Sir Fran. Ay, but consider, cousin, what a scurvy figure shall I make in the country, if I come dawn withawt it.

Man. You will make a much more lamentable figure in a jail without it.

Sir Fran. Mayhap 'at yow have no great opinion of it then, cousin?

Man. Sir Francis, to do you the service of a real friend, I must speak very plainly to you: you don't yet see half the ruin that's before you. Sir Fran. Good-lack! how may you mean,

Sir Fran. Every shilling---among a parcel of cousin?

S

Man. In one word, your whole affairs stand thus-In a week, you'll lose your seat at Westminster: in a fortnight, my lady will run you into jail, by keeping the best company- -In Tour-and-twenty hours, your daughter will run away with a sharper, because she han't been used to better company and your son will steal into marriage with a cast mistress, because he has not been used to any company at all.

Sir Fran. I' th' name o' goodness, why should you think all this?

Man. Because I have proof of it; in short, I know so much of their secrets, that if all this is not prevented to-night, it will be out of your power to do it to-morrow morning.

brought to play himself, madam, then he might feel what it is to want money.

Lady Town. Oh, don't talk of it! do you know that I am undone, Trusty?

Trusty. Mercy forbid, madam!

Lady Town. Broke, ruined, plundered! stripped, even to a confiscation of my last guinea! Trusty. You don't tell me so, madam? Lady Town. And where to raise ten pound in the world-What is to be done, Trusty?

Trusty. Truly, I wish I were wise enough to tell you, madam: but may be your ladyship may have a run of better fortune upon some of the good company that comes here to-night.

Lady Town. But I have not a single guinea to

Sir Fran. Mercy upon us! you frighten me---try my fortune. Well, sir, I will be governed by you: but what am I to do in this case?

Man. I have not time here to give you proper instructions; but about eight this evening I'll call at your lodgings, and there you shall have full conviction how much I have it at heart to serve you.

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SCENE II.-Opens to a dressing-room. LADY TOWNLY, as just up, walks to her toilet, leaning on MRS TRUSTY.

Trusty. Dear madam, what should make your ladyship so out of order?

Lady Town. How is it possible to be well, where one is killed for want of sleep?

Trusty. Dear me! it was so long before you rung, madam, I was in hopes your ladyship had been finely composed.

Lady Town. Composed! why I have lain in an inn here; this house is worse than an inn with ten stage-coaches: what between my lord's impertinent people of business in a morning, and the intolerable thick shoes of footmen at noon, one has not a wink all night.

Trusty. Indeed, madam, it's a great pity my lord can't be persuaded into the hours of people of quality-though I must say that, madam, your ladyship is certainly the best matrimonial manager in town.

Lady Town. Oh, you are quite mistaken, Trusty! I manage very ill; for, notwithstanding all the power I have, by never being over-fond of my lord-yet I want money infinitely oftener than he is willing to give it me.

Trusty. Ah! if his lordship could but be VOL. IL

Trusty. Ha! that's a bad business indeed, madam-Adad, I have a thought in my head, madam, if it is not too late

Lady Town. Out with it quickly, then, I beseech thee.

Trusty. Has not the steward something of fifty pounds, madam, that you left in his hands to pay somebody about this time?

Lady Town. Oh, ay; I had forgot-'twas to-what's his filthy name?

Trusty. Now I remember, madam, 'twas to Mr Lutestring, your old mercer, that your ladyship turned off about a year ago, because he would trust you no longer.

Lady Town. The very wretch! If he has not paid it, run quickly, dear Trusty, and bid him bring it hither immediately-[Exit TRUSTY.] Well, sure mortal woman never had such for tune! five, five and nine, against poor seven for

ever

-No, after that horrid bar of my chance, that lady Wronghead's fatal red fist upon the table, I saw it was impossible ever to win another stake-Sit up all night; lose all one's money; dream of winning thousands; wake without a shilling; and then-How like a hag I look! In short-the pleasures of life are not worth this disorder. If it were not for shame, now, I could almost think lady Grace's sober scheme not quite so ridiculousIf my wise lord could but hold his tongue for a week, 'tis odds but I should hate the town in a fortnight-But I will not be driven out of it, that's positive.

TRUSTY returns.

Trusty. Oh, madam, there's no bearing of it! Mr Lutestring was just let in at the door, as I came to the stair foot; and the steward is now actually paying him the money in the hall.

Lady Town. Run to the stair-case head again and scream to him, that I must speak with him this instant. [TRUSTY runs out, and speaks. Trusty. Mr Poundage- -a-hem! Mr Pound[Without.

age, a word with you quickly! Pound. [Within.] I'll come to you presently.

4 Q

[Without.

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