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SCENE I-HARCOURT'S Lodgings. HARCOURT and BELVILLE discovered sitting. Har. Ha, ha, ha! and so you are in love, nephew; not reasonably and gallantly, as a young gentleman ought, but sighingly, miserably sonot content to be ankle-deep, you have sous'd over head and ears-Ha, Dick! Belo. I am pretty much in that condition, indeed, uncle. [Sighs. Har. Nay, never blush at it-when I was of your age, I was asham'd too-but three years at college, and half a one at Paris, methinks, should have cured you of that unfashionable weakness -modesty.

Belv. Could I have releas'd myself from that, I had, perhaps, been at this instant happy in the

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never encourage young men to covet their neighbours' wives.

Belo. My heart assures me that she is not married.

Har. O! to be sure, your heart is much to be relied upon-but to convince you that I have a fellow-feeling of your distress, and that I am as nearly allied to you in misfortunes as in relationship- -you must know——

Belo. What, uncle? You alarm me!
Har. That I am in love too.

Belv. Indeed!

Har. Miserably in love.

Belv. That's charming.

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Serv. An odd sort of a person, from the country, I believe, who calls himself Moody, wants to see you, sir; but as I did not know him, I said you were not at home, but would return direct

Har. And my mistress is just going to be ly; and so will I too, said he, very short and surmarried to another.

Belv. Better and better.

Har. Iknew my fellow-sufferings would please you; but now prepare for the wonderful wone of wonders!

Belo. Well.

Har. My mistress is in the same house with yours.

Belv. What are you in love with Peggy too? [Rising from his chair. Har. Well said, jealousy.-No, no, set your heart at rest. Your Peggy is too young, and too simple for me.-I must have one a little more knowing, a little better bred, just old enough to see the difference between me and a coxcomb, spirit enough to break from a brother's engagements, and choose for herself.

Belv. You don't mean Alithea, who is to be married to Mr Sparkish?

lily! and away he went, mumbling to himself.

Har. Very well, Will-I'll see him when he comes. [Exit Servant.] Moody call to see me! r-He has something more in his head than making me a visit-'tis to complain of you, I suppose.

Har. Cann't I be in love with a lady that is going to be married to another as well as you, sir?

Belv. But Sparkish is your friend!

Belv. How can he know me?

Har. We must suppose the worst, and be prepared for him.-Tell me all you know of this ward of his, this Peggy-Peggy, what's her name?

Belv. Thrift, Thrift, uncle.

Har. Ay, ay, Sir Thomas Thrift's daughter, of Hampshire, and left, very young, under the guardianship of my old acquaintance and companion, Jack Moody.

Belv. Your companion! he's old enough to be your father.

Har. Thank you, nephew:-he has greatly the advantage of me in years, as well as wisdom. When I first launched from the university, into this ocean of London, he was the greatest rake in it; I knew him well, for near two years; but, all of a sudden, he took a freak (a very prudent one) of retiring wholly into the country.

Belo. There he gain'd such an ascendancy over the odd disposition of his neighbour, Sir Thomas, that he left him sole guardian to his daughter, who forfeits half her fortune, if she does not marry with his consent-there's the

Har. Pr'ythee don't call him my friend: he can be nobody's friend, not even his ownHe would thrust himself into my acquaintance, would introduce me to his mistress, tho' I have told him, again and again, that I was in love with her, which, instead of ridding me of him, has made him only ten times more troublesome-and me really in love-He should suffer for his self-devil, uncle! sufficiency.

Belo. 'Tis a conceited puppy!—And what success with the lady?

Har. No great hopes-and yet, if I could defer the marriage a few days, I should not despair:her honour, I am confident, is her only attachment to my rival-she cann't like Sparkish; and if I can work upon his credulity, a credulity which even popery would be asham'd of, I may yet have the chance of throwing sixes upon the dice, to save me.

Belv. Nothing can save me.

Hur. And are you so young, so foolish, and so much in love, that you would take her with half her value? ha, nephew?

Belv. I'll take her with any thing-with nothing.

Har. What! such an unaccomplish'd, awk ward, silly creature: he has scarce taught her to write; she has seen nobody to converse with, but the country people about 'em; so she can do nothing but dangle her arms, look gawky, turn her toes in, and talk broad Hampshire.

Belv. Don't abuse her sweet simplicity-had you but heard her talk, as I have done, from the garden-wall in the country, by moon-light.

Har. No, not if you whine and sigh, when you should be exerting every thing that is man about you. I have sent Sparkish, who is admitted at all hours in the house, to know how the land lies for you, and if she is not married al-ha! ready.

Belv. How cruel you are-you raise me up

Har. Romeo and Juliet, I protest; ha, ha, ha ! Arise, fuir sun, and kill the envious-ha, ha, How often have you seen this fair Capulet? Belv. I saw her three times in the country, and spoke to her twice; I have leapt an orchard

wall, like Romeo, to come at her; play'd the balcony-scene, from an old summer-house in the garden; and, if I lose her, I will find out an apothecary, and play the tomb-scene too.

Har. Well said, Dick!-this spirit must produce something-but has the old dragon ever caught you sighing at her?

Belv. Never in the country:-he saw me yesterday kissing my hand to her, from the new tavern window that looks upon the back of his house, and immediately drove her from it, and fasten'd up the window-shutters.

[SPARKISH, without. Spark. Very well, Will, I'll go up to 'em. Hur. I hear Sparkish coming uptake care of what I told you-not a word of Peggy; bear his intelligence, and make use of it, without seeming to mind it.

Belv. Mum, mum, uncle.

Enter SPARKISH.

her to-morrow, or the day after. Have you no honest clergyman, Harcourt, no fellow-collegian to recommend to me to do the business?

Har. Nothing ever, sure, was so lucky. [Aside.] Why, faith, I have, Sparkish: My brother, a twinbrother, Ned Harcourt, will be in town to-day, and proud to attend your commands. I am a very generous rival, you see, to lend you my bro- › ther to marry the woman I love!

Spark. And so am I too, to let your brother come so near us-but Ned shall be the man:Poor Alithea grows impatient-I cann't put off the evil day any longer-I fancy the brute her brother has a mind to marry his country idiot at the same time.

Belv. How, country idiot, sir!

Har. Taisez vous, bête. [Aside to BELV.] I thought he had been married already.

Spark. No, no, he's not married, that's the joke of it.

Belv. No, no, he's not married.

Hur. Hold your tongue. [Elbowing BELVILLE.
Spark. Not he-I have the finest story to tell

Spark. O, my dear Harcourt, I shall die with laughing- -I have such news for thee-ha, ha, ha!-What, your nephew too, and a little dump-you-By the by, he intends calling upon you, ish, or so you have been giving him a lecture upon economy, I suppose-you, who never had any, can best describe the evils that arise from the want of it. I never mind my own affairs, not I-The gods take care of Cato-I hear, Mr Belville, you have got a pretty snug house, with a bow-window that looks into the Park, and a back-door that goes out into it:-very conve nient and well imagined::—no young, handsome fellow should be without one-you may be always ready there, like a spider in his web, to seize upon stray'd women of quality.

Har. As you used to do you vain fellow you :- -Pr'ythee don't teach my nephew your abandoned tricks—he is a modest young man, and you must not spoil him.

Spark. May be so;- -but his modesty has done some mischief at our house-My surly, jealous brother-in-law saw that modest young gentleman casting a wishful eye at his forbidden fruit, from the new tavern window.

Belv. You mistake the person, Mr Sparkish -I don't know what young lady you mean. Hur. Explain yourself, Sparkish; you must mistake-Dick has never seen the girl.

Spark. I don't say he has; I only tell you what Moody says. Besides, he went to the tavern himself, and enquired of the waiter, who dined in the back-room, No. 4, and they told him it was Mr Belville, your nephew; that's all I know of the matter, or desire to know of it, faith. Har. He kiss'd his hand, indeed, to your lady Alithea, and is more in love with her than you are, and very near as much as I am; so look about you; such a youth may be dangerous.

Spark. The more danger the more honour: I defy you both: Win her and wear her, if you can

·Dolus an virtus in love as well as in warthough you must be expeditious, faith; for I believe, if I don't change my mind, I shall marry

for he ask'd me where you liv'd, to complain of modesty there. He pick'd up an old raking acquaintance of his, as we came along togetherWill Frankly, who saw him, with his girl, sculking and muffled up, at the play, last night:-he plagu'd him much about matrimony, and his be ing ashamed to shew himself; swore he was in love with his wife, and intended to cuckold him. Do you? cry'd Moody, folding his arms, and scowling with his eyes, thus-You must have more wit than you used to have.—Besides, if you have as much as you think you have, I shall be out of your reach, and this profligate metropolis, in less than a week. Moody would fain have got rid of him, but the other held him by the sleeve; so I left 'em, rejoiced most luxuriously to see the poor devil tormented.

Belv. I thought you said, just now, that he was not married: is not that a contradiction sir? [HARCOURT still makes signs to BELVILLE.

Spark. Why, it is a kind of one-but, considering your modesty, and your ignorance of the young lady, you are pretty tolerably inquisitive, methinks; ha, Harcourt? ha, ha, ha!

Har. Pooh, pooh! don't talk to that boy; tell me all you know.

Spark. You must know, my booby of a brother-in-law hath brought up this ward of his (a good fortune, let me tell you) as he coops up and fattens his chickens, for his own eating: he is plaguy jealous of her, and was very sorry that he could not marry her in the country, without coming up to town; which he could not do, on account of some writings or other; so what does my gentleman?-he persuades the poor silly girl, by breaking a sixpence, or some nonsense or other, that they are, to all intents, married in heaven, but that the laws require the signing of articles, and the church-service, to complete their union-so he has made her call him husband.

and Bud, which she constantly does; and he calls her wife, and gives out she is married, that she may not look after younger fellows, nor younger fellows after her, 'egad; ha, ha, ha! and all won't do.

Belo. Thank you, sir.—What heavenly news, uncle ! [Aside. Har. What an idiot you are, nephew !-And so, then, you make but one trouble of it, and are both to be tack'd together the same day?

Spark. No, no, he cann't be married this week; he damns the lawyers for keeping him in town: -besides, I am out of favour; and he is continually snarling at me, and abusing me, for not being jealous. [Knocking at the door.] There he is-I must not be seen with you, for he'll suspect something; I'll go with your nephew to his house, and we'll wait for you, and make a visit to my wife, that is to be; and, perhaps, we shall shew young modesty, here, a sight of Peggy

too.

Enter Servant.

Serv. Sir, here's the strange, odd sort of a gentleman come again, and I have shewn him into the fore-parlour.

Spark. That must be Moody! Well said, Will; an odd sort of a strange gentleman, indeed: we'll step into the next room 'till he comes into this, and then you may have him all to yourself-much good may do you. [SPARKISH, going, returns.]— Remember that he is married, or he'll suspect| me of betraying him.

[Exeunt SPARKISH and BElville. Har. Shew him up, Will. [Exit Serv.] Now must I prepare myself to see a very strange, tho' a very natural metamorphosis-a once high-spirited, handsome, well-dress'd, raking prodigal of the town, sunk into a surly, suspicious, economical, country sloven!

Enter MOODY.

Moody. Mr Harcourt, your humble servanthave you forgot me?

Har. What, my old friend, Jack Moody! By thy long absence from the town, the grumness of thy countenance, and the slovenliness of thy habit, I should give thee joy:-you are certainly married.

Moody. My long stay in the country will excuse my dress; and I have a suit at law that brings me up town, and puts me out of humour -besides, I must give Sparkish ten thousand pounds to-morrow, to take my sister off my hands.

Har. Your sister is very much obliged to you -being so much older than her, you have taken upon you the authority of a father, and have engaged her to a coxcomb.

Moody. I have, and to oblige her-Nothing but coxcombs or debauchees are the favourites now a-days, and a coxcomb is rather the more innocent animal of the two.

Har. She has sense and taste, and cann't like him; so you must answer for the consequences.

Moody. When she is out of my hands, her husband must look to consequences. He's a fashionable fool, and will cut his horns kindly.

Har. And what is to secure your worship from consequences ?—I did not expect marriage from such a rake-one that knew the town so well:fie, fie, Jack.

Moody. I'll tell you my security-I have married no London wife.

Har. That's all one-that grave circumspection, in marrying a country wife, is like refusing a deceitful, pamper'd Smithfield jade, to go and be cheated by a friend in the country.

Moody. I wish the devil had both him and his simile.

[Aside. Har. Well, never grumble about it; what's done cann't be undone :-Is your wife handsome and young?

Moody. She has little beauty but her youth; nothing to brag of but her health; and no attraction but her modesty-wholesome, homely, and housewifely-that's all.

Har. You talk as like a grazier as you look, Jack-why did you not bring her to town before, to be taught something?

Moody. Which something I might repent as long as I live

Har. But, pr'ythee, why wouldst thou marry her, if she be ugly, ill-bred, and silly? She must be rich, then.

Moody. As rich as if she had the wealth of the Mogul-she'll not ruin her husband, like a London baggage, with a million of vices she never heard of—then, because she's ugly, she's the likelier to be my own; and, being ill-bred, she'll hate conversation; and, since silly and innocent, will not know the difference between me and you; that is, between a man of thirty, and one of forty.

Har. Fifty, to my knowledge [MOODY turns off, and grumbles.]-But see how you and I differ, Jack-wit, to me, is more necessary than beauty I think no young woman ugly that has it, and no handsome woman agreeable without it.

Moody. 'Tis my maxim-he's a fool that mar ries, but he's a greater that does not marry a fool.-I know the town, Mr Harcourt; and my wife shall be virtuous in spite of you, or your nephew.

Hur. My nephew!-poor sheepish lad-he runs away from every woman he sees-he saw your sister Alithea at the opera, and was much smitten with her he always toasts her-and hates the very name of Sparkish. I'll bring him to your house-and you shall see what a formidable Tarquin he is.

Moody. I have no curiosity, so give yourself no trouble. You have heard of a wolf in sheep's clothing; and I have seen your innocent nephew kissing his hands at my windows.

Har. At your sister, I suppose:-not at her, unless he was tipsy. How can you, Jack, be so outrageously suspicious! Sparkish has promised

to introduce him to his mistress.

Moody. Sparkish is a fool, and may be,-what I'll take care not to be. I confess my visit to you, Mr Harcourt, was partly for old acquaintance sake. but chiefly to desire your nephew to confine his gallantries to the tavern, and not to send 'em in looks, signs, or tokens, on the other side of the way. I keep no brothel-so, pray, tell your nephew. [Going. Hur. Nay, pr'ythee, Jack, leave me in better humour.-Well, I'll tell him; ha, ha, ha!-poor Dick, how he'll stare. This will give him a reputation, and the girls won't laugh at him any longer.-Shall we dine together at the tavern, and send for my nephew, to chide him for his gallantry? Ha, ha, ha !-we shall have fine sport. Moody. I am not to be laugh'd out of my senses, Mr Harcourt: I was once a modest, meek, young gentleman myself, and I never have been

half so mischievous, before or since, as I was in that state of innocence. And so, old friend, make no ceremony with me-I have much business, and you have much pleasure, and therefore, as I hate forms, I will excuse your returning my visit, or sending your nephew to satisfy me of his modesty and so your servant. [Exit.

Har. Ha, ha, ha! poor Jack! what a life of suspicion does he lead! I pity the poor fellow, though he ought, and will suffer, for his folly.Folly!-'tis treason, murder, sacrilege! When persons of a certain age will indulge their false, ungenerous appetites, at the expence of a young creature's happiness, dame Nature will revenge herself upon them, for thwarting her most heavenly will and pleasure.

ACT II.

SCENE I-A Chamber in MOODY's House.

Enter Miss PEGGY and ALiTHEA. Peg. Pray, sister, where are the best fields and woods to walk in, in London?

Ali. A pretty question! Why, sister, Vauxhall, Ranelagh, and St James's Park, are the most frequented.

Peg. Pray, sister, tell me why my Bud looks so grum here in town, and keeps me up close, and will not let me go a-walking, nor let me wear my best gown yesterday?

Ali. O! he's jealous, sister.
Peg. Jealous! what's that?

Ali. He's afraid you should love another man. Peg. How should he be afraid of my loving another man, when he will not let me see any but himself?

Ali. Did he not carry you yesterday to a play? Peg. Ah; but we sat amongst ugly people: he would not let me come near the gentry, who sat under us, so that I could not see 'em. He told me none but naughty women sat there--but I would have ventured, for all that.

Ali. But how did you like the play?

Peg. Indeed I was weary of the play; but I liked hugeously the actors; they are the goodliest, properest men, sister.

Ali. O, but you must not like the actors, sister. Peg. Ay, how should I help it, sister! Pray, sister, when my guardian comes in, will you ask leave for me to go a-walking?

Ali. A-walking; ha, ha, ha! Lord, a country gentlewoman's pleasure is the drudgery of a foot-post, and she requires as much airing as her husband's horses. [Aside.] But here comes my brother; I'll ask him, though I am sure he'll not grant it.

Enter MOODY.

Peg. O, my dear, dear Bud, welcome home!

[Exit.

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[PEGGY goes aside, and cries. Ali. Faith, and so she is, for crying for no fault, poor, tender creature!

Moody. What, you would have her as impudent as yourself, as arrant a gilflirt, a gadder, a magpie, and, to say all, a mere notorious townwoman!

Ali. Brother, you are my only censurer; and the honour of your family will sooner suffer in your wife, that is to be, than in me, though I take the innocent liberty of the town.

Moody, Hark you, mistress, do not talk so before my wife:-The innocent liberty of the town! Ali. Pray, what ill people frequent my lodgings? I keep no company with any women of scandalous reputation.

Moody. No, you keep the men of scandalous reputation company.

Ali. Would you not have me civil, answer 'em at public places, walk with 'em when they join me in the Park, Ranelagh, or Vauxhall ?

Moody. Hold, hold; do not teach my wife where the men are to be found: I believe she's the worse for your town documents already. I bid you keep her in ignorance, as I do.

Peg. Indeed, be not angry with her, Bud; she will tell me nothing of the town, though I ask her a thousand times a-day.

Moody. Then you are very inquisitive to know, I find?

Peg. Not I, indeed, dear: I hate London : our play-house in the country is worth a thousand of't; would I were there again!

Moody. So you shall, I warrant. But were you not talking of plays and players when I came in? You are her encourager in such discourses.

Peg. No, indeed, dear; she chid me just now for liking the player-men.

Moody. Nay, if she is so innocent as to own to

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