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say much. But, in short, d'ye see, I will hold you Jer. (JEREMY and SCANDAL whisner.] I'll do an hundred pounds now, that I know more se

it, sir. crets than he.

Scan. Mr Foresight, we had best leave him. For. How? I cannot read that knowledge in He may grow outrageous, and do mischief. your face, Mr Tattle. Pray, what do you know? For. I will be directed by you. Tat. Why, d’ye think I'll tell

you,

sir?-Read Jer. [To Mrs Frail.] You'll meet, madam?it in my face! No, sir, it is written in my heart ; I'll take care every thing shall be ready. and safer there, sir, than letters written in juice Mrs F. Thou shalt do what thou wilt; in short, of lemon, for no fire can fetch it out. I'm no I will deny thee nothing. blab, sir.

Tut. Madam, shall I wait upon you? Vul. Acquaint Jeremy with it; he may easily

(P. ANGELICA. bring it about. They are welcome, and I'll tell Ang. No, I'll stay with him.—Mr Scandal will them so myself. [To SCANDAL ] What, do you protect me. Aunt, Mr Tattle desires you would book strange upon me ?—Then I must be plain. give bim leave to wait upon you. (Coming up to them. I am Honesty, and hate an Tai. Pox on't, there's no coming off, now she old acquaintance with a new face.

has said that–Madam, will you do me the honour ! (SCANDAL goes aside with JEREMY. Mrs For. Mr Tattle might have used less ce Tat. Do

you
know
me, Valentine?

remony ! Val. You? Who are you? I hope not.

(Ereunt Mrs Frill, Mr and Mrs FORETat. I am Jack Tattle, your friend.

SIGHT, and Tattle. Val. My friend! what to do? I'm no married Sran. Jeremy, follow Tattle. (Erit JEREMY; man, and thou canst not lie with my wife. I am Ang. Mr Scandal, I only stay till my maid very poor, and thou canst not borrow money of comes, and because I have a mind to be rid of Mr me. Then what employment have I for a friend? Tattle.

Tat. Ha! a good open speaker, and not to be Scun. Madam, I am very glad that I overheard trusted with a secret.

a better reason which you gave to Mr Tattle; Ang. Do

you
know
me, Valentine?

for his impertinence forced you to acknowledge a Val. Oh, very well.

kindness for Valentine, wbich you denied to all Ang. Who am I?

his sufferings and my solicitations. So I'll leave Vul. You're a woman-one to whom Heaven him to make use of ihe discovery; and your lady• gave beauty, when it grafted roscs on a brier. ship to the free confession of your inclinations. You are the reflection of Heaven in a pond; and Ang. Oh Heavens ! you won't leave me alone he that leaps at you is sunk. You are all white, with a madoan? a sheet of lovely spotless paper, when you were Scun. No, madam: I only leave a madman to first born; but you are to be scrawled and blot: his remedly.

[Erit. ted by every goose's quill. I know you; for I Val. Madam, you need not be very much aloved a woman, and loved her so long, that I found fraid, for I fancy I begin to come to myself. out a strange thing; I found out what a woman Ang. Ay, but if I don't fit you, I'll be hang'd. was good for.

(Aside. Tut. Ay, pr’ythee, what's that?

Val. You see what disguises love makes us put Vul. Why, to keep a secret.

on. Gocls have been in counterfeited shapes for Tat. O Lord !

the sanie reason; and the divine part of me, my Val. O, exceeding good to keep a secret : fornrind, bas worn this mask of madness, and this though she should tell, yet she is not believed. motley livery, only as the slave of love, and meTat. Hah! good again, faith.

nial creature of your beauty, Vul. I would have music.—Sing me the song Ang. Mercy on me, how he talks !-Poor Va. that I like.

lentine !

Val. Nay, faith, now let us understand one anSONG.

other, hypocrisy apart. The comedy draws to

wards an end; and let us think of leaving acting, I tell thee, Charmion, could I lime retrieve, and be ourselves; and, since you have loved me, And could again begin to love and live,

you must own, I have at length deserved you To you I should my early offering give;

should confess it. I know my eyes would lend my heart to you, Ang. (Sighs.] I would I had loved you !--for, And I should all my vows und oaths renew ; Heaven knows, I pity you; and, could I have foreBut, to be pluin, I never would be true. seen the bad effects, I would have striven ; but

that's too late! For, by our weak and weary truth, I find,

Vul. What bad effects? what's too late?- My Love hates to centre in a point assign'd,

seeming madness has deceived my father, and But runs with joy the circle of the mind : Then nerer lei us chain what should be free,

procured me time to think of means to reconcile But for relief of either ser, agree :

me to him, and preserve the right of my inherit. Since women love to change, and so do we.

ance to his estate ; which otherwise, by articles, I must this morning have resigneil. And this Í

had informed you of to-day, but you were gone No more; for I'm melancholy. (Walks musing. I before I knew you had been bere.

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Ang. How! I thought your love of me had | are any better yet.—Will you please to be mad, caused this transport in your soul; which, it sir, or how? seems, you only counterfeited for mercenary ends Vul. Stupidity! you know the penalty of all and sordid interest.

I'm worth must pay for the confession of my Val. Nay, now you do me wrong; for, if any senses. I'm mad, and will be mad, to every body interest was considered, it was yours; since I but this lady. thought I wanted more than love to make me Jer. So ;-just the very back-side of truth. But worthy of you.

lying is a figure in speech, that interlards the greatAng. Then you thought me mercenary—But est part of iny conversation.—Madam, your ladyhow am I deluded, by this interval of sense, to ship's woman. reason with a madman! Val. Oh, 'tis barbarous to misunderstand me

Enter JENNY. longer!

Ang. Well, have you been there !--Come hi

ther. Enter JEREMY.

Jenny. Yes, madam; Sir Sampson will wait Ang. Oh, here's a reasonable creature-sure upon you presently. (Aside to ANGELICA. he will not have the impudence to persevere !- Val. You are not leaving me in this uncer. Come, Jeremy, acknowledge your trick, and con- tainty? fess your master's madness counterfeit.

Ang. Would any thing but a madman complain Jer. Counterfeit, madam! I'll maintain him of uncertainty? Uncertainty and expectation are to be as absolutely and substantially mad, as any the joys of life. Security is an insipid thing; and freeholder in Bedlam. Nay, he's as mad as any the over taking and possessing of a wish discovers projector, fanatic, chemist, lover, or poet, in Eu- the folly of the chace. Never let us know one rope.

another better; for the pleasure of a masquerade Val. Sirrah, you lie; I am not mad.

is done, when we come to shew our faces. But Ang. Ha, ha, ha! you see he denies it. I'll tell you two things before I leave you; I am

Jer. O Lord, madam, did you ever know any not the fool you take me for; and you are mad, madman mad enough to own it?

and don't know it. Val. Sot, cann't you apprehend?

(Exeunt ANGELICA and JENNY. Ang. Why he talk'd very sensibly just now. Val. From a riddle you can expect nothing but

Jer. Yes, madam; he has intervals : but you a riddle. There's my instruction, and the moral see he begins to look wild again now.

of my lesson. Vul. Wby, you thick-skulled rascal, I tell you Jer. What, is the lady gone again, sir? I hope the farce is done, and I'll be mad no longer. you understood one another before she went ?

(Brats him. Vul. Understood! she is harder to be underAng. Ha, ha, ha! is he mad or no, Jeremy? stood than a piece of Egyptian antiquity, or an Jer. Partly, I think—for he does not know his Irish manuscript ; you may pore till you spoil own mind two hours. I'm sure I left him just your eyes, and not improve your knowledge. now in the humour to be mad : and I think I Jer. I have heard them say, sir, they read hard have not found him very quiet at the present.—Hebrew books backwards. May be you begin to (One knocks.] Who's there?

read at the wrong end ! Vul. Go see, you sot.-I'm very glad that I Val. They say so of a witch's prayer; and dreams can move your mirth, though not your compas- and Dutch almanacks are to be understood by sion.

contraries. But there is regularity and method Ang. I did not think you had apprehension in that: she is a medal without a reverse or inenough to be exceptious; but madmen shew them- scription, for indifference has both sides alike. selves most by over-pretending to a sound under-Yet, while she does not seem to hate me, I will standing, as drunken men do by over-acting so. pursue her, and know her if it be possible, in spite briety. I was half inclining to believe you, till I of the opinion of my satirical friend, who says, accidentally touched upon your tender part. But That women are like tricks by sleight of hand; now you have restored me to my former opinion Which, to admire, we should not understand. and compassion.

(Exeunt. Jer. Sir, your father has sent to know if you

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ACT V.

SCENE 1.-A Room in FORESIGHT's House.

Enter ANGELICA and JENNY. Ang. Where is Sir Sampson ? did you not tell me he would be here before me?

Jenny. He's at the great glass in the diningroom, madam, setting his cravat and wig.

Ang. How! I'm glad on't.-If he has a mind I should like him, it's a sign he likes ine; and that's more than half my design.

Jenny. I hear him, madam.

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son,

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Ang. Leave me; and, d’ye hear, if Valentine good-nature and sense- - for I would neither should come, or send, I'm not to be spoken with. have an absolute wit, nor a fool.

[Exit JENNY. Sir S. Odd, you are hard to please, madam : to

find a young fellow that is neither a wit in his Enter Sir SAMPSON.

own eye, nor a fool in the eye of the world, is Sir S. I have not been honoured with the com- very hard task. But, faith and troth, you speak mands of a fair lady a great while-Odd, madam, very discreetly; for I hate both a wit and a fool. you have revived me-not since I was five and Ang. She that marries a fool, Sir Sampson, thirty.

forfeits the reputation of her honesty or underAng. Why, you have no great reason to com- standing; and she that marries a very witty man, plain, Sir Sampson; that's not long ago. is a slave to the severity and insolent conduct of

Sir S. Zooks, but it is, madam, a very great her husband. I should like a man of wit for a while; to a man that admires a fine woman as lover, because I would have such a one in my much as I do.

power : but I would no more be his wife than his Ang. You're an absolute courtier, Sir Samp- enemy; for his malice is not a more terrible con

sequence of his aversion, than his jealousy is of Sir S. Not at all, madam. Odsbud, you wrong his love. me: I am not so old neither, to be a bare cour- Sir S. None of old Foresight's sibyls ever uttier, only a man of words. Odd, I have warm tered such a truth. Odsbud, you have won my blood about me yet, and can serve a lady any way. heart. I hate a wit ; I had a son that was spoilt

- Come, come, let me tell you, you women think among them; a good hopeful lad, till he learnt a man old too soon, faith and troth you do.- to be a wit-and might have risen in the state.Come, don't despise fifty, odd, fifty, in a hale But, a pox on't, his wit ran him out of his money, constitution, is no such contemptible age ! and now his poverty has run him out of his wits.

Ang. Fifty a contemptible age! not at all: a Ang. Sir Sampson, as your friend, I must tell very fashionable age, I think I assure you, I you, you are very much abused in that matter know very considerable beaux, that setagood face he's no more mad than you are. upon fifty.-Fifty! I have seen fifty in a side-box, Sir S. How, madam ! would I could prove it! by candle-light, out-blossom five and twenty. Ang. I can tell you how that may be done

Sir S. Outsides, outsides ; a pize take them, but it is a thing that would make me appear to be mere outsides ! Hang your side-box beaux; no, too much concerned in your affairs. I'm none of those, none of your forced trees, that Sir S. Odsbud, I believe she likes me ! (Aside.) pretend to blossom in the fall, and bud when they -Ah, madam, all my affairs are scarce worthy should bring forth fruit. I am of a long-lived race, to be laid at your feet, and I wish, madam, they and inherit vigour. None of my ancestors mar- were in a better posture, that I might make a ried till fifty ; yet they begot sons and daughters more becoming offer to a lady of your incompatill fourscore. I am of your patriarchs, I, a branch rable beauty and merit.-If had Peru in one of one of your antediluvian families, fellows that hand, and Mexico in t’other, and the Eastern emthe flood could not wash away. Well, madam, pire under my feet, it would make me only a more what are your commands ? Has any young rogue glorious victim, to be offered at the shrine of affronted you, and shall I cut his throat, or- your beauty.

Ang. No, Sir Sampson, I have no quarrel up. Ang. Bless me, Sir Sampson, what's the maton my hands I have more occasion for your con

ter ? duct than your courage at this time. To tell you Sir S. Odd, madam, I love you—and if you the truth, I'm weary of living single, and want a would take my advice in a husbandhusband.

Ang. Hold, hold, Sir Sampson ; I asked your Sir S. Odsbud, and it is a pity you should!- advice for a husband, and you are giving me your Odd, would she would like me! then I should consent. I was indeed thinking to propose somehamper my young rogues : odd, would she would; thing like it in jest, to satisfy you about Valenfaith and troth, she's devilish handsome! (Aside.) tine: for, if a match were seemingly carried on be

-Madam, you deserve a good husband! and tween you and me, it would oblige him to throw 'twere pity you should be thrown away upon any off his disguise of madness, in apprehension of loof these young idle rogues about the town. Odd, sing me; for, you know, he has long pretended a there's ne'er a young fellow worth hanging—that passion for me. is, a very young fellow--Pize on them, they Sir S. Gadzooks, a most ingenious contrivance, never think beforehand of any thing—and if they--if we were to go through with it! But why must commit matrimony, 'tis as they commit murder the match only be seemingly carried on? Odd, out of a frolic; and are ready to hang themselves, let it be a real contract. or to be hanged by the law, the next morning. Ang. O fie, Sir Sampson, what would the world Odso, have a care, madam.

Ang. Therefore I ask your advice, Sir Samp- Sir S. Say? They would say you were a wise son. I have fortune enough to make any man easy woman, and I a happy man. Odd, madam, I'll that I can like; if there was such a thing as a love you as long as I live, and leave you a good young agreeable man, with a reasonable stock of jointure when I die.

a

a

say ?

to his

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Ang. Ay, but that is not in your power, Sir / art a pretty fellow, and canst carry a message to Sampson, for when Valentine confesses himself a lady, in a pretty soft kind of phrase, and with a in his senses, he must make over his inheritance good persuading accent ? younger brother.

Jer. Sir, I have the seeds of rhetoric and oraSir S. Odd, you're cunning, a wary baggage. tory in my head- I have been at Cambridge. Faith and troth, I like you the better. But, I Tat. Ay; 'tis well enough for a servant to be warrant you, I have a proviso in the obligation in bred at an university; but the education is a litfavour of myself. Body o’me, I have a trick to tle too pedantic for a gentleman. I hope you are turn the settlement upon the issue male of our secret in your nature, private, close, ha? two bodies begotten. Odsbud, let us find children, Jer. O sir, for that, sir, 'tis my chief talent ; and I'll find an estate !

I'm as secret as the head of Nilus. Ang. Will you? Well, do you find the estate, Tat. Ay? who's he, though ? A privy-counand leave the other to me!

sellor Sir S. O rogue! but I'll trust you. And will Jer. O ignorance ! (Aside.)–A cunning Egypyou consent? Is it a match then?

tian, sir, that with his arms could over-run the Ang. Let me consult my lawyer concerning country, yet nobody could ever find out his headthis obligation; and, if I find what you propose quarters. practicable, I'll give you my answer.

Tat. Close dog! a good whoremaster, I warSir S. With all my heart. Come in with me, rant him!—The time draws nigh, Jeremy; Angeand I'll lend you the bond. You shall consult | lica will be veiled like a nun, and I must be hoodyour lawyer, and I'll consult a parson. Odzooks, ed like a friar ; ha, Jeremy? I'm a young man; Odzooks, I'm a young man, and Jer. Ay, sir, hooded like a hawk, to seize at I'll make it appear-Odd, you're devilish hand- first sight upon the quarry. It is the whim of my some. Faith and troth, you're very handsome: master's madness to be so dressed; and she is so and I'm very young, and very lusty. Odsbud, in love with him, she'll comply with any thing to hussy, you know how to choose, and so do I. please him. Poor lady! I'm sure she'll have reaOdd, I think we are very well met. Give me son to pray for me, when she finds what a happy your hand; odd, let me kiss it; 'tis as warm and change she has made, between a madman and so as soft—as what?-odd, as t'other hand !-Give accomplished a gentleman. me t'other hand; and I'll mumble them, and kiss Tut. Ay, faith, so she will, Jeremy: You're a them, till they melt in my mouth.

good friend to her, poor creature !- I swear I do Ang. Hold, Sir Sampson-You're profuse of it hardly so much in consideration of myself, as your vigour before your time. You'll spend your compassion to her. estate before you come to it.

Jer. 'Tis an act of charity, sir, to save a fine Sir S. No, no, only give you a rent-roll of my woman with thirty thousand pounds from throwpossessions-Ah! baggage !—I warrant you for a ing herself away. little Sampson. Odd, Sampson is a very good name Tat. So 'tis, faith! I might have saved several for an able fellow. Your Sampsons were strong others in my time; but egad I could never find dogs from the beginning.

in my heart to marry any body before. Ang. Have a care, and don't over-act your part. Jer. Well, sir, I'll go and tell her my master's If you remember, Sampson, the strongest of the coming; and meet you in half a quarter of an name, pulled an old house over his head at last. hour, with your disguise, at your own lodgings.

Sir S. Say you so, hussy ?-Come, let's go then: | You must talk a little madly ;-she won't distin odd, I long to be pulling too. Come away, guish the tone of your voice. Odso, here's somebody coming. [Ereunt. Tat. No, no, let me alone for a counterfeit. I'll

be ready for you.

(Exit JEREMY. Enter Tattle and JEREMY. Tat. Is not that she, gone out just now?

Enter Miss PRUE. Jer. Ay, sir, she's just going to the place of Aliss P. 0, Mr Tattle, are you here? I'm glad appointment. Ah, sir, if you are not very faith. I have found you. I have been looking up and ful and close in this business, you'll certainly be down for you like any thing, till I'm as tired as the death of a person that has a most extraordi- any thing in the world. nary passion for your honour's service!

Tat. O pox! how shall I get rid of this fool. Tat. Ay, who's that?

ish girl ?

(Aside, Jer. Even my unworthy self, sir. Sir, I have Miss P. 0, I have pure news, I can tell you had an appetite to be fed with your commands a pure news—I must not marry the seaman nową great while—And now, sir, my former master ha- My father says so. Why won't you be my husving much troubled the fountain of his under- band? You say you love me and you won't be standing, it is a very plausible occasion for me to my husband? And I know you may be my husquench my thirst at the spring of your bounty. band now, if you please. I thought I could not recommend myself better Tat. O fie, miss! who told you so, child ? to you, sir, than by the delivery of a great beauty Miss P. Why, my father - I told him that and fortune into your arins, whom I have heard you loved me. you sigh for.

Tat. O fie, miss! why did you do so? and whe Tat. I'll make thy fortune; say no more. Thou told you so, child?

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Miss P. Who? Why you did, did not you? have likeness of you and I have a secret in my

Tat. O pox, that was yesterday, miss ; that was heart which you would be glad to know, and a great while ago, child. I have been asleep since; sha'n't know; and yet you shall know it too, and slept a whole night, and did not so much as dream be sorry for it afterwards. I'd have you know, of the matter.

sir, that I'm as knowing as the stars, and as seMiss P. Pshaw! O but I dreamt that it was cret as the night. And I'm going to be married so though.

jast now, yet did not know of it half an hour ago; Tat. Ay, but your father will tell you that and the lady stays for me, and does not know of dreams come by contraries, child. O fie! what, it yet. There's a mystery for you. I know you we must not love one another now. Pshaw, that love to untie difficulties. Or, if you cann't solve would be a foolish thing indeed! Fie, fie! you're this, stay here a quarter of an hour, and I'll come a woman now, and must think of a new man and explain it to you.

(Erit. every morning, and forget him every night. No, Miss P. O father! why will you let him go? no, to marry is to be a child again, and play with Won't you make him to be my husband? the same rattle always : 0 fie, marrying is a paw For. Mercy on us! what do these lunacies porthing!

tend ?-Alas, he's mad, child-stark wild. Miss P. Well, but don't you love me as well Miss P. What, and must not I have e'er a husas you did last night then?

band then ?--What, must I go to bed to nurse Tat. No, no, chilel, vou would not lrave me. again, and be a child as long as she's an old woMiss P. No? Yes but I would though. man ?-Indeed, but I won't. For, now my mind

Tat. Pshaw, but I tell you, you would not. is set upon a man, I will have a man some way or You forget you are a woman, and don't know other.-Oh, methinks I'm sick when I think of a your own mind.

man! And if I can't have one, I would go to Miss P. But here's my father, and he knows sleep all my life ; for, when I'm awake, it makes my mind.

me wishi and long, and I don't know for what,

and I'd rather be always asleep, than sick with Enter FORESIGHT.

thinking. For. O, Mr Tattle, your servant, you are a For. O fearful ! I think the girl's influenced close man ; but methinks your love to my daugh- too.-Hussy, you shall have a rod. têr was a secret I might have been trusted with! Miss P. A fiddle of a rod! I'll have a husband; -or had you a mind to try if I could discover it and if you won't get me one, I'll get one for myby my art? --Hum, ha! I think there is something self. i'll marry our Robin the butler: he says in your physiognomy that has a resemblance of he loves me ; and he's a handsome man, and her; and the girl is like me.

shall be my husband. I warrant he'll be my husTat. And so you would infer that you and I band, and thank me too; for he told me só. are alike?-What does the old prig mean? I'll banter him, and laugh at him, and leave him.- Enter SCANDAL, Mrs FORESIGHT, and Nurse. (Aside. - I fancy you have a wrong notion of For. Did he so ?-I'll dispatch him for it prefaces.

sently. Rogne !-O nurse, come hither! For. How? what? a wrong notion ! how so? Nurse. What is your worship’s pleasure ?

Tat. In the way of art, I have some taking fea- For. Here, take your young mistress, and lock tures, not obvious to vulgar eyes, that are indica- her up presently, till further orders from me.tive of a sudden turn of good fortune in the lot- Not a word, hussy! Do what I bid you. No retery of wives; and promise a great beauty and ply-away !--and bid Robin make ready to give great fortune reserved alone for me, by a private an account of his plate and linen-d'ye hear? Be intrigue of destiny, kept secret from the piercing gone, when I bid you. eye of perspicuity, from all astrologers, and the

(Exeunt Nurse and Miss PRUE. stars themselves.

Mirs For. What's the matter, husband ? For. How! I will make it appear, that what For. 'Tis not convenient to tell you now.you say is impossible.

Mr Scandal, Heaven keep us all in our senses ! Tat. Sir, I beg your pardon; I am in haste- I fear there is a contagious frenzy abroad.—How For. For what?

does Valentine? Tat. To be married, sir-married.

Scan. 0, I hope he will do well again! I have For, Ay, but pray take me along with you, sir. a message from him to your niece Angelica.

Tat. No, sir ; it is to be done privately-I ne- For. I think she has not return'd since she ver make confidants.

went abroad with Sir Sampson.-Nurse, why are For. Well, but my consent, I mean—You won't you not gone?-[Enter BEN.}-Here's Mr Benmarry my daughter without my consent ? jamin; he can tell us if his father be come home.

Tát. Who, I, sir? I am an absolute stranger Ben. Who, father? Ay, he's come home with to you and your daughter, sir.

a vengeance. For. Hey-day! What time of the moon is Mrs For. Why, what's the matter? this?

Ben. Matter ! Why, he's mad. Tat. Very true, sir ; and desire to continue so. For. Mercy on us ! I was afraid of this. I have no more love for your daughter than I Ben. And there's a handsome young woman ;

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