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Ori. 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.

Mir. Lookye, 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; for I can assure you, madam, that the thing called honour is a circumstance absolutely unnecessary in a natural correspondence between male and female; and he's a madman that lays it out, considering its scarcity, upon any such trivial occasions. There's honour requir'd of us by our friends, and honour due to our enemies, and they return it to us again; but I never heard of a man that left but an inch of his honour in a woman's keeping, that could ever get the least account on't.-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 so get thee about thy business.

Ori. Well, sir, even all this I will allow to the gaiety of your temper; your travels have improv'd your talent of talking, but they are not of force, I hope, to impair your morals.

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.

Ori. Sir, I am proud of my power, and am resoly'd to use it.

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 patch'd 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.

Ori. With all my heart, sir; give me up my contract, and I'll never see your face again.

Mir. Indeed I won't, child.

Ori. What, sir, neither do one nor t'other?

Mir. No, you shall die a maid, unless you please to be otherwise upon my terms.

Ori. Sir, you're_a—

Mir. What am I, mistress?
Ori. A villain, sir!

Mir. I am glad on't-I never knew an honest fellow in my life, but was a villain upon these occasions.Ha'nt you drawn yourself now into a very pretty dilemma? Ha, ha, ha; the poor lady has made a vow of virginity, when she thought of making a vow for the contrary. Was ever poor woman so cheated into chastity?

Ori. Sir, my fortune is equal to yours, my friends as powerful, and both shall be put to the test, to do me justice.

Mir. What! you'll force me to marry you, will ye? Ori. Sir, the law shall.

Mir. But the law can't force me to do any thing else, can it?

Ori. Pshaw, I despise thee-monster.

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 inine.

Ori. No, I won't.

Mir. Eh! What is the girl a fool?

Ori. No, sir, you shall find me cunning enough to do myself justice; and since I must not depend upon your love, I'll be reveng'd and force you to marry me out of spite.

Mir. Then I'll beat thee out of spite; and make a most confounded husband.

Ori. O sir, I shall match ye: a good husband makes a good wife at any time.

Mir. I'll rattle down your china about your ears. Ori. And I'll rattle about the city to run you in debt for more.

Mir. I'll tear the lace off your clothes, and when you swoon for vexation, you sha'nt have a penny to buy a bottle of hartshorn.

Ori. And you, sir, shall have hartshorn in abundance. Mir. I'll keep as many mistresses as I have coachhorses.

Ori. And I'll keep as many gallants as you have grooms. Mir. But, sweet madam, there is such a thing as a divorce.

Ori. But, sweet sir, there is such a thing as alimony; so divorce on, and spare not

[Exit.Mir. Ay, that separate maintenance is the devilthere's their refuge-o'my conscience, one would take cuckoldom for a meritorious action, because the women are so handsomely rewarded for't.

Enter DURETETE and PETIT.

Dur. And she's mighty peevish, you say?

[Exit.

Pet. 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.

Pet. 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.

Pet. But d'ye ever laugh, sir?

Dur. Laugh? Won't she endure laughing?

Pet. 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 prepar'd, I have been practising hard words, and no sense, this hour to entertain her. Pet. 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 1 should forget my lesson.

Pet. Here she comes, sir, I must fly.

[Exit Pet. Dur. stands peeping behind the Curtain.

Enter BISARRE and Maid.

Bis. [With a Book] Pshaw, hang books, they sour our temper, spoil our eyes, and ruin our complexions. [Throws away the Book. Dur. Eh! The devil such a word there is in all Aristotle.

Bis. Come, wench, let's be free, call in the fiddler, there's nobody near us.

Dur. Would to the Lord there was not.

Bis. Here, friend, a minuet!-quicker time; ha———— would we had a man or two.

Dur. [Stealing away] You shall have the devil sooner, my dear dancing philosopher!

Bis. Uds my life! Here's one.

[Runs to Duretete and pulls him back. Dur. Is all my learned preparation come to this? Bis. Come, sir, don't be asham'd, that's my good boy-you're very welcome, we wanted such a oneCome, strike up- -I know you dance well, sir, you're finely shap'd for't--Come, come, sir; quick, quick, you miss the time else.

Dur. But, madam, I came 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- -Mind the time--quicker,

sirrah. [To the Fiddler] 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, sonato face. Dur. Who, I sing?

Bis. O, you're modest, sir-but come, sit down; closer, closer. Here, a bottle of wine-Come, sir, fa, la, la; 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.

[Aside. Bis. O pardon me, sir, you shall do me right; fill it higher.- -Now, sir, can you drink a health under your leg?

Dur. Rare philosophy that, faith.

Bis. Come, off with it to the bottom.

d'ye like me, sir?

Dur. O, mighty well, madam!

-Now, how

Bis. You see how a woman's fancy varies; sometimes splenetic and heavy, then gay and frolicsome.And how d'ye like the humour?

Dur. Good madam, let me sit down to answer you, for I am heartily tir'd.

Bis. Fie upon't; a young man, and tir'd! up, for shame, and walk about; action becomes us 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. Bellface.

Dur. They are all strangers to me, madam.

Bis. But let me tell you, sir, that brown is not always despicable.

Dur. Upon my soul, I don't—

Bis. And then you must have heard of the English beau, Spleenamore, how unlike a gentleman

Dur. Hey-not a syllable on't, as I hope to be saved,

madam.

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