[She writes. But I'll crush this mischief in the shell-Why | embraces ;· -go on;—yet I would not have you should women have more invention in love than presume that you shall ever repeat them-so. men? it can only be, because they have more desire, more soliciting passions, more of the devil. [Aside.] [Enter PEGGY, with pen, ink, and paper.] Come, minx, sit down and write. Peg. Ay, dear, dear Bud; but I cann't do't very well. Moody. I wish you could not at all. Moody. I'll have you write a letter to this young man. Peg. O Lord, to the young gentleman a letter! Peg. What, do you think I am a fool? Moody. She's afraid I would not dictate any love to him, therefore she's unwilling. [Aside.]But you had best begin. Peg. Indeed and indeed, but I won't, so I won't. Peg. Because he's in town; you may send for him here, if you will. Moody. Very well, you would have him brought to you?-is it come to this? I say, take the pen and ink and write, or you'll provoke me. Peg. Lord, what do you make a fool of me for? -Don't I know that letters are never writ but from the country to London, and from London into the country? now he's in town, and I am in town too; therefore I cann't write to him, you know. Moody. So, I am glad it is no worse; she's innocent enough yet. [Aside.] Yes, you may, when your husband bids, write letters to people who are in town. Peg. O, may I so? then I am satisfied. Moody. Come, begin-Sir- [Dictates. Peg. Sha'n't I say, Dear sir? you know one says always something more than bare sir. Moody. Write as I bid you, or I will write something with this pen-knife in your face. Peg. Nay, good Bud—Sir [Writes. Moody. Though I suffered last night your nauscous, loath'd kisses and embraces- -Write! Peg. Nay, why should I say so? you know I told you he had a sweet breath. Moody. Write! Peg. Let me put out loath'd. Peg. Well then. [Writes. Moody. Let me see what you have writ.Though I suffered last night your kisses and embraces――[Reads the paper.] Thou impudent creature, where is nauseous and loath'd? Peg. I cann't abide to write such filthy words. Moody. Once more, write as I'd have you, and question it not, or I will spoil your writing with this; I will stab out those eyes that cause my [Holds up the pen-knife. mischief. Peg. O Lord, I will. Moody. So-so-let's see now? Though I suffered last night your nauseous, loath'd kisses and Peg. I have writ it. -I then concealed myself from your knowledge, to avoid your insolencies [She writes. [Writes. Peg. I vow, husband, he'll ne'er believe I should write such a letter. Moody. What, he'd expect a kinder from you? Come, now your name only. Peg. What, sha'n't I say your most faithful humble servant till death? it Moody. No, tormenting fiend-Her style, I find, would be very soft. [Aside.] Come, wrap up now, whilst I go fetch wax and a candle, and write on the outside,-For Mr Belville. [Exit MOODY. Peg. For Mr Belville.- -So-I am glad he is gone-Hark! I hear a noise. Moody. [Within.] Well, well, but cann't you call again-Well, walk in then. Peg. [Goes to the door.] l'feck, there's folks with him-that's pure-now I may think a littleWhy should I send dear Mr Belville such a letter?-Can one have no shift? ah! a London woman would have had a hundred presently.— Stay-what if I should write a letter, and wrap it up like this, and write upon it too?-Ay, but then my guardian would see't-I don't know what to do-But yet y'vads I'll try, so I willfor I will not send this letter to poor Mr Belville, come what will on't. [She writes, and repeats what she writes.] Dear sweet Mr Belville-soMy guardian would have me send you a base, rude letter, but I won't-so-and would have me say I hate you-but I won't-there-for I'm sure if you and I were in the country at cards to gether-so-I could not help treading on your toe under the table-so pray keep at home, for I shall be with you as soon as I can-so no more at present from one who is, dear, dear, poor, dear Mr Belville, your loving friend till death, Mar garet Thrift.-So-Now wrap it up just like the t'other-so-Now write,-For Mr Belville.But oh! what shall I do with it? for here comes my guardian. [Puts the letter in her bosom. Enter MOODY, with a candle and sealing wax. Moody. I have been detained by a sparkish coxcomb, who pretended to visit me, but I fear 'twas to my wife. [Aside.] What, have you done? Peg. Ay, ay, Bud, just now. Moody. Let's see't; what do you tremble for? [He opens and reads the first letter. Peg. So I had been served if I had given him [Aside. Moody. Come, where's the wax and seal? Peg. Lord, what shall I do now? Nay, then I have it.-[Aside.] Pray let me see't. Lord, you think me so arrant a fool, I cannot seal a letter; I will do't, so I will. [Snatches the letter from him, changes it for the other, seals it, and delivers it to him. this. Moody. Nay, I believe you will learn that and other things too, which I would not have you. Peg. So, ha'n't I done it curiously? I think I have there's my letter going to Mr Belville, since he'll needs have me send letters to folks. [Aside. Moody. 'Tis very well, but I warrant you would not have it go now? Peg. Yes, indeed, but I would, Bud, now. Moody. Well, you are a good girl then. Come, let me lock you up in your chamber, till I come back; and be sure you come not within three strides of the window, when I am gone; for I have a spy in the street. [Puts her into the chamber. At least 'tis fit she thinks so; if we do not cheat women, they'll cheat us.--Now I have secured all within, I'll deal with the foe without, with false intelligence. [Exit. SCENE III.—Changes to BELVILLE's Lodgings. Enter LUCY and BELVILLE. Lucy. I run great risks, to be sure, to serve the young lady, and you, sir-but I know you are a gentleman of honour, and would scorn to betray a friend who means you well, and is above being mercenary. Belo. As you are not mercenary, Mrs Lucy, I ought to be the more generous-give me leave to present you with this trifle, [Gives a ring] not as a reward for your services, but as a small token of friendship. Lucy. Tho' I scorn to be bribed in any cause, yet I am proud to accept it, as a mark of your regard, and as such shall keep it for your sakeand now to business. Belv. But has the dear creature resolved? Lucy. Has she-why, she will run away and marry you in spite of your teeth, the first moment she can break prison--so you, in your turn, must take care not to have your qualms-I have known several bold gentlemen not able to draw their swords, when a challenge has come too quick upon 'em. Belv. I assure you, Mrs Lucy, that I am no bully in love, and Miss Peggy will meet with her match, come when she will. Lucy. Ay, so you all say, but talking does no business-Stay at home till you hear from us. Belo. Blessings on thee, Lucy, for the thought MOODY speaking without. Moody. But I must and will see him, let him have what company he will. Lucy. As I hope to be married, Mr Belville, I hear Mr Moody's voice-Where shall I hide myself?-if he sees me, we are all undone. Belo. This is our cursed luck again-What the devil can he want here? I have lost my senses get into this closet till he's gone. [Puts Lucy into the closet.] This visit means something; I am quite confounded-Don't you stir, Lucy-I must put the best face upon the matter-Now for it [Takes a book and reads. Enter MOODY. u Belo. You shall be always welcome to me; but you seem ruffled, sir; what brings you hither, and seemingly out of humour? Moody. Your impertinency-I beg pardonyour modesty, I mean. Belv. My impertinency! Belv. Sir, from the peculiarity of your charac low you great privileges; but you must consider, ter, and your intimacy with my uncle, I shall alyouth has its privileges too; and as I have not the honour of your acquaintance, I'm not oblig❜d to bear with your ill humours, or your ill manners. Moody. They who wrong me, young man, must bear with both! and if you had not made too free with me, I should have taken no liberties with you. Belv. I could have wish'd, sir, to have found you a little more civil, the first time I have the honour of a visit from you. Moody. If that's all you want, young gentleman, you will find me very civil indeed! There, sir, read that, and let your modesty declare whether I want either kindness or civility-Look you there, sir. [Gives a letter. my Belv. What is it? Moody. Only a love-letter, sir ;- -and from wife. Belv. How, is it from your wife?-hum and [Reads. Moody. Even from my wife, sir; am I not wonderous kind and civil to you now? But you'll not think her so. [Aside. hum Belv. Ha! Is this a trick of his or hers? [Aside. Moody. The gentleman's surpris'd, I find.— What, you expected a kinder letter? Belv. No, faith, not I; how could I? Moody. Yes, yes, I'm sure you dad: a man so young, and well made as you are, must needs be disappointed, if the women declare not their passion at the first sight or opportunity. Belv. But what should this mean? It seems he knows not what the letter contains. [Aside. Moody. Come, ne'er wonder at it so much. Spark. Nay, nay, you shall hear my story out. -She walk'd up within pistol-shot of the church-then twirl'd round upon her heelcall'd me every name she could think of; and when she had exhausted her imagination, and tir'd her tongue-no easy matter, let me tell Moody. Now, I think, I have deserv'd your in-you-she call'd her chair, sent her footman to finite friendship and kindness, and have shew'd myself sufficiently an obliging kind friend and husband-am I not so, to bring a letter from my wife to her gallant? Belo. Ay, indeed, you are the most obliging kind friend and husband in the world; ha, ha, ha, ha! Pray, however, present my humble service to her, and tell her, I will obey her letter to a tittle, and fulfil her desires, be what they will, or with what difficulty soever I do't; and you shall be no more jealous of me, I warrant her and you. Moody. Well then, fare you well, and play with any man's honour but mine, kiss any man's wife but mine, and welcome- -so, Mr Modesty, your servant. [As MOODY is going out, he is met by SPARKISH. Spark. So, brother-in-law, that was to have been, I have follow'd you from home to Belville's: I have strange news for you. Moody. What, are you wiser than you were this morning? Spark. Faith, I don't know but I am, for I have lost your sister, and I sha'n't eat half an ounce the less at dinner for it; there's philosophy for you. Moody. Insensibility you mean-I hope you don't mean to use my sister ill, sir. Spark. No, sir, she has used me ill; she's in her tantrums-I have had a narrow escape, sir. Moody. If thou art endow'd with the smallest portion of understanding, explain this riddle. Belv. Ay, ay, pr'ythee, Sparkish, condescend to be intelligible. Spark. Why, you must know, we had settled to be married- -it is the same thing to me, whether I am married or not-I have no particular fancy one way or another, and so I told your sister; off or on, 'tis the same thing to me; but the thing was fix'd, you know-You and my aunt brought it about--I had no hand in it. And to shew you that I was as willing to marry your sister as any other woman, I suffered the law to tie me up to hard terms, and the church would have finish'd me still to harder--but she was taken with her tantrums! Moody. Damn your tantrums- come to the point. buy a monkey before my face, then bid me goodmorrow with a sneer, and left us with our mouths open in the middle of a hundred people, who were all laughing at us! If these are not tantrums, I don't know what they are. Moody. Ha, ha, ha! I thank thee, Sparkish, from my soul; 'tis a most exquisite story; I have not had such a laugh for this half yearThou art a most ridiculous puppy, and I am infinitely obliged to thee; ha, ha, ha! [Exit MOODY. Spark. Did you ever hear the like, Belville? Belo. O yes; how is it possible to hear such a foolish story, and see thy foolish face, and not laugh at 'em; ha, ha, ha! LUCY in the closet, laughs. Spark. Hey-day! what's that? What, have you raised a devil in the closet, to make up a laughing chorus at me? I must take a peep [Going to the closet. Belv. Indeed but you must not. Spark. Pr'ythee, introduce me. Belr. Though you take a pleasure in exposing your ladies, I choose to conceal mine. So my dear Sparkish, lest the lady should be sick by too long a confinement, and laughing heartily at you -I must entreat you to withdraw-Pr'ythee, excuse me, I must laugh-ha, ha, ha! Spark. Do you know that I begin to be angry, Belville? Belv. I cann't help that; ha, ha, ha! Spark. My character's at stake-I shall be thought a damn'd silly fellow-I will call Alithea to an account directly. [Erit. Belo. Ha, ha, ha! ture! LUCY peeping out. Lucy. Ha, ha, ha! O, dear sir, let me have my laugh out, or I shall burst- -what an adven[Laughs. Belo. My sweet Peggy has sent me the kindest letter and by the dragon himself—There's a spirit for you! Lucy. There's simplicity for you! shew me a Spark. Your sister took an aversion to the par- town-bred girl with half the genius-Send you a son, Frank Harcourt's brother-abused him like love-letter, and by a jealous guardian too! ha, a pick-pocket, and swore 'twas Harcourt himself. ha, ha!-'Tis too much-too much-Ha, ha, Moody. And so it was, for I saw him. ha!- -Well, Mr Belville-the world goes as Spark. Why, you are as mad as your sister-it should do-my mistress will exchange her I tell you it was Ned, Frank's twin-brother. Moody. What, Frank told you so so? fool for a wit, Miss Peggy her brute for a pretty young fellow: I shall dance at two weddings Spark. Ay, and Ned too-they were both in a be well rewarded by both parties—get a husband myself, and be as happy as the pest of you-and so your humble servant. Belt. Success attend you, Lucy. [Exit. [Exit. ACT V. SCENE I.-MOODY's House. PEGGY alone, leaning on her elbow. A table, pen, ink, and paper. Peg. WELL, 'tis e'en so; I have got the London disease they call love. I am sick of my guardian, and dying for Mr Belville! I have heard this distemper call'd a fever, but methinks it is like an ague; for when I think of my guardian, I tremble, and am in a cold sweat; but when I think of my gallant, dear Mr Belville, my hot fit comes and I am all in a fever in deed: my own chamber is tedious to me, and I would fain be removed to his, and then methinks I should be very well. Ah! poor Mr Belville! Well, I cannot, will not stay here; therefore I'll make an end of my letter to him, which shall be a finer letter than my last, because I have studied it like any thing. Oh! sick, sick! will Enter MOODY, who, seeing her writing, steals [Draws his sword. Peg. O Lord! O Lord! you are such a passionate man, Bud! Moody. Come, take the pen, and make an end of the letter, just as you intended; if you are false in a tittle, I shall soon perceive it, and pu nish you with this, as you deserve. [Lays his hand Moody. Let's see- -(for I can defer no longer our wedding-Your slighted Alithea.) What's the meaning of this? my sister's name to't! speak, unriddle. Peg. Yes, indeed, Bud. Moody. But why her name to't? speakspeak, I say. Peg. Ay, but you'll tell her again: if you would not tell her again Moody. I will not; I am stunn'd, my head turns round. Speak. Peg. Won't you tell her, indeed and indeed? Peg. She'll be angry with me; but I had ra- Moody. Ha!-I thought the style was somewhat better than her own. [Aside.] Could she come to you to teach you, since I had locked you alone? up Peg. Oh, thro' the key-hole, Bud. Moody. But why should she make you write a letter for her to him, since she can write herself. Peg. Why, she said becauseunwilling to do it. Moody. Because, what -for I was -because Peg. Because, lest Mr Belville, as he was so young, should be inconstant, and refuse her, or be vain afterwards, and shew the letter, she might disown it, the hand not being hers. Moody. Belville again! -Am I to be de ceived again with that young hypocrite? Peg. You have deceived yourself, Bud, you have indeed- -I have kept the secret for my sister's sake, asong as I couldmust know it- --and shall know it too. Moody. Dry your eyes. -but you [Cries. Peg. You always thought he was hankering after me-Good lau! he's dying for Alithea, and Alithea for him-they have had private meetings -and he was making love to her before yesterday, from the tavern window, when you thought it was me I would have discovered all-but she made me swear to deceive you, and so I have finely-have not I, Bud? Moody. Why did you write this foolish letter to him then, and make me more foolish to carry it? Peg. To carry on the joke, Bud-to oblige them. Moody. And will nothing serve her but that great baby?-he's too young for her to marry. Peg. Why do you marry me then? 'tis the same thing, Bud. Moody No, no, 'tis quite different-How innocent she is―This changeling could not invent this lie; but, if she could, why should she? She might think I should soon discover it. [Aside.] -But hark you, madam, your sister went out in the morning, and I have not seen her within since. Peg. Alack-a-day! she has been crying all day above, it seems, in a corner. Moody. Where is she? let me speak with her. Peg. O Lord! then he'll discover all.-[Aside.] Pray hold, Bud; what, d'ye mean to discover me! she'll know I have told you then. Pray, Bud, let me talk with her first. Moody. I must speak with her, to know whether Belville ever made her any promise, and whether she will be married to Sparkish or no. Peg. Pray, dear Bud, don't, till I have spoken with her, and told her that I have told you all; for she'll kill me else. Moody. Go then and bid her come to me. Moody. Let me see Peg. I have just got time to know of Lucy, who first set me to work, what lie I shall tell next; for I am e'en at my wit's end. [Aside, and exit. Moody. Well, I resolve it, Belville shall have her: I'd rather give him my sister, than lend him my wife; and such an alliance will prevent his pretensions to my wife, sure-I'll make him of kin to her, and then he won't care for her. Peg. [Re-enters] O Lord, Bud, I told you what anger you would make me with my sister. Moody. Won't she come hither? Peg. No, no, she's asham'd to look you in the face; she'll go directly to Mr Belville, she says -She must speak with him, before she discovers all to you-or even sees you. She says too, that you shall know the reason by and by. Pray let her have her way, Bud- -she won't be pacified if you don't- and will never forgive me -For my part, Bud, I believe, but don't tell any body, they have broken a piece of silver between them, or have contracted one another, as we have done, you know, which is the next thing to being married. Moody. Pooh! you fool- -she ashamed of talking with me about Belville, because I made the match for her with Sparkish! but Sparkish is a fool, and I have no objection to Belville's family or fortune-tell her so. Peg. I will, Bud. [Going. Moody. Stay, stay, Peggy- -let her have her own way she shall go to Belville herself, and I'll follow her -that will be best-let her have her whim. Peg. You're in the right, Bud--for they have certainly had a quarrel, by her crying and hanging her head so-İ'll be hang'd if her eyes | a'n't swelled out of her head, she is in such a piteous taking. Moody. Belville sha'n't use her ill, I'll take care of that-if he has made her a promise, he shall keep to it--but she had better go first -I will follow her at a distance, that she may have no interruption: and I will wait in the Park before I see them, that they may come to a reconciliation before I come upon 'em. Peg. Lau, Bud, how wise you are! I wish I had half your wisdom; you see every thing at once- -Stand a one side then, and I'll tell her you are gone to your room, and when she passes by, you may follow her. Moody. And so I will-she sha'n't see me till I break in upon her at Belville's. Peg. Now for it. [Exit PEGGY. Moody. My case is something better-for suppose the worst-should Belville use her ill-I had rather fight him for not marrying my sister, than for debauching my wife, for I will make her mine absolutely to-morrow; and of the two I had rather find my sister too forward than my wife: I expected no other from her free education, as she calls it, and her passion for the town. Well, wife and sister are names which make us expect love and duty, pleasure and comfort; but we find 'em plagues and torments, and are equally, tho' differently, troublesome to their keeper. But here she comes. [Steps on one side. Enter PEGGY, dress'd like ALITHEA; and as she passes over the stage, seems to sigh, sob, and wipe her eyes. Peg. Heigho! [Exit. Moody. [Comes forward.] There the poor devil goes, sighing and sobbing; a woful example of the fatal consequences of a town education -but I am bound in duty, as well as inclination, to do my utmost to save her-but first I'll secure my own property. [Opens the door and calls.]-Peggy! Peggy!-my dear!—I will return as soon as possible-do you hear me? Why don't you answer? You may read in the book I bought you 'till I come back-As the Jew says in the play, Fast bind, fast find. [Locks the door.] This is the best, and only security for female affections. [Exit. SCENE II.-The Park before BELVILLE's Door, Enter SPARKISH, fuddled. Spark. If I can but meet with her, or any body that belongs to her, they will find me a match for 'em- -When a man has wit, and a great deal of it-Champagne gives it a double edge, and nothing can withstand it-'tis a lighted match to gunpowder—the mine is sprung, and the poor devils are toss'd heels uppermost in an instant. I was right to consult my friends, and they all agree with Moody, that I make a damn'd ridiculous figure, as matters stand at present.I'll consult Belville-this is his house-he's my friend too-and no fool. It shall be so-damn it, I must not be ridiculous. [Going to the door, |