Man. No, my dearest, after so much kindness as has pass'd between us, I cannot part with you yet.-Freeman, let nobody stir out of the room; for, notwithstanding your lights, we are yet in the dark, till this gentleman please to turn his face. [Pulls VERNISH by the sleeve.] How, Vernish! art thou the happy man then? Thou! thou! -Speak, I say ; but thy guilty silence tells me all.

Well, I shall not upbraid thee; for my wonder is striking me as dumb as thy shame has made thee.- -But what, my little volunteer hurt and fainting!

Fid. My wound, sir, is but a slight one, in my arm: 'tis only my fear of your danger, sir, not yet well over.

Man. But what's here? More strange things! [Observing FIDELIA's hair untied behind, and

without a peruke, which she lost in the scuffle. What means this long woman's hair and face? Now all of it appears too beautiful for a man, which I still thought womanish indeed!--- What, you have not deceived me too, my little volunteer? Otiv. Me she has, I'm sure. Man. Speak.

Enter ELIZA and LETTICE.

to you before, and my heart was before your due: I only beg leave to dispose of these fewHere, madam, I never yet left my wench unpaid. [Takes some of the jewels, and offers them to OLIVIA: she strikes them down": PLAUSIBLE and NOVEL take them up.

Oliv. So it seems, by giving her the cabinet. L. Plaus. The pendants appertain to your most faithful humble servant.

Nov. And this locket is mine; my earnest for love, which she never paid; therefore my own again.

Wid. By what law, sir, pray?---Cousin Olivia, a word: What, do they make a seizure on your goods and chattels, vi et armus? Make your de mand, I say, and bring your trover: I'll follow the law for you.

Olv. And I my revenge.

[Eril OLIVIA.

Eliz. What, cousin! I am brought hither by your woman, I suppose, to be a witness of the second vindication of your honour?

Ohv. Insulting is not generous: You might spare me: I have you.

Eliz. Have a care, cousin; you'll confess anon too much; and I would not have your secrets. Man. Come, your blushes answer me sufficiently, and you have been my volunteer in love. [To FIDELIA. Fid. I must confess, I needed no compulsion to follow you all the world over; which I attempted in this habit, partly out of shame to own my love to you, and fear of a greater shame, your refusal of it; for I knew of your engagement to this lady, and the constancy of your nature, which nothing could have alter'd but herself.

Man. Dear madam, I desired you to bring me out of confusion, and you have given me more. I know not what to speak to you, or how to look upon you: The sense of my rough, hard, and ill usage of you, (though chiefly your own fault,) gives me more pain, now 'tis over, than you had when you suffer'd it: and if my heart, the refusal of such a woman, [Pointing to OLIVIA.] were not a sacrifice to profane your love, and a greater wrong to you than ever yet I did you, I would beg of you to receive it, though you used it as she has done; for though it deserved not from her the treatment she gave it, it does from you.

Fid. Then it has had punishment sufficient from her already, and needs no more from me; and, I must confess, I would not be the only cause of making you break your last night't oath to me, of never parting with me, if you do not forget or repent it.

Man. Then take for ever my heart, and this with it; [Gives her the cabinet.] for 'twas given

Fid. Your heart, sir, is a present of that value, I can never make any return to't; [Pulling MANLY from the company.] but I can give you back such a present as this, which I got by the loss of my father, a gentleman of the north, of no mean extraction, whose only child I was; therefore left me in the present possession of two thousand pounds a-year, which I left, with multitudes of pretenders, to follow you, sir; having in several public places seen you, and observed your actions thoroughly, with admiration, when you were too much in love to take notice of mine, which yet was but too visible. The name of my family is Grey; my other, Fidelia: The rest of my story you shall know when I have fewer auditors.

Man. Nay, now, madam, you have taken from me all power of making you any compliment on my part; for I was going to tell you, that, for your sake only, I would quit the unknown pleas sure of retirement, and rather stay in this ill world of ours still, though odious to me, than give you more frights again at sea, and make again too great venture there, in you alone. But if I should tell you now all this, and that your virtue (since greater than I thought any was in the world) had now reconciled me tot, my friend here would say, 'tis your estate that has mademe friends with the world.

Free. I must confess I should; for I think most of our quarrels to the world are just such as we

have to a handsome woman, only because we cannot enjoy her as we would do.

Man. Nay, if thou art a plain dealer too, give me thy hand; for now I'll say I am thy friend indeed: and, for your sakes, though I have been so lately deceived in friends of both sexes,

I will believe there are now in the world
Good-natured friends who are not prostitutes,
And handsome women worthy to be friends:
Yet, for my sake, let no one e'er confide
In tears, or oaths, in love, or friend untried.
[Exeunt omnes.

To you, the judges learned in stage laws,
Our poet now, by me, submits his cause;
For with young judges, such as most of you,
The men by women best their business do:
And truth on't is, if you did not sit here,
To keep for us a term throughout the year,
We could not live by'r tongues; nay, but for you,
Our chamber-practice would be little too.
And 'tis not only the stage-practiser,
Who, by your meeting, gets her living here;
For, as in hall of Westminster,

Sleek sempstress vents, amidst the courts, her

Here's daily done the great affair o' the nation:
Let love and us then ne'er have long vacation.-
But hold: like other pleaders, I have done,
Not my poor client's business, but my own.
Spare me a word then, now, for him.-First know,
Squires of the long robe, he does humbly shew
He has a just right in abusing you,
Because he is a brother templar too;
For, at the bar, you rally one another,
Nay, fool and knave is swallow'd from a brother:
If not the poet here, the templar spare,
And maul him when you catch him at the bar.-
From you, our common modish censurers,
Your favour, not your judgment, 'tis he fears;
Of all loves begs you then to rail, find fault ;
For plays, like women, by the world are thought,
(When you speak kindly of 'em,) very naught..

How this vile world is changed! In former days,
Prologues were serious speeches before plays;
Grave, solemn things, as graces are to feasts,
Where poets begg❜d a blessing from their guests.
But now, no more like suppliants we come;
A play makes war, and prologue is the drum :
Arm'd with keen satire, and with pointed wit,
We threaten you who do for judges sit,
To save our plays, or else we'll damn your pit.
But,
for your comfort, it falls out to-day,
We've a young author and his first-born play;
So, standing only on his good behaviour,

He's

very civil, and entreats your favour. Not but the man has malice, would he shew it, But, on my conscience, he's a bashful poet:

You think that strange-no matter; he'll outgrow it.

Well, I'm his advocate: by me, he prays you-
(I don't know whether I shall speak to please you,)
He prays-O, bless me! what shall I do now?
Hang me if I know what he prays, or how!
And 'twas the prettiest prologue, as he wrote it:
Well, the deuce take me if I ha'n't forgot it !--
O Lord! for heaven's sake excuse the play,
Because, you know, if it be damn'd to-day,
I shall be hang'd for wanting what to say.
For my sake then-But I'm in such confusion,
I cannot stay to hear your resolution.

[Runs off

SCENE I.-The Street.

BELLMOUR and VAINLOVE, meeting. Bell. Vainlove, and abroad so early!-Good morrow. I thought a contemplative lover could no more have parted with his bed in a morning than he could have slept in't.

Vain. Bellmour, good morrow.-Why, truth on't is, these early sallies are not usual to me; but business, as you see, sir-[Shewing letters. And business must be follow'd, or be lost.

Bell. Pox o' business!-And so must time, my friend, be close pursued, or lost.-Business is the rub of life, perverts our aim, casts off the bias. and leaves us wide and short of the intended mark. Vain. Pleasure, I guess, you mean. Bell. Ay, what else has meaning? Vain. Oh, the wise will tell you—

Bell. More than they believe, or understand. Vain. How, how, Ned; a wise man say more than he understands?

Bell. Ay, ay: Pox! wisdom's nothing but a pretending to know and believe more than we really do. You read of but one wise man; and all that he knew was, that he knew nothing.Come, come, leave business to idlers, and wisdom to fools; they have need of 'em: wit be my faculty, and pleasure my occupation; and let father Time shake his glass. Let low and earthly souls grovel, till they have work'd themselves six foot deep into a grave.-Business is not my element: I roll in a higher orb, and dwell.

Vain. In castles i' the air of thy own building: that's thy element, Ned.-Well, as high a flier as you are, I have a lure may make you stoop. [Flings a letter. Bell. Ay marry, sir; I have a hawk's eye at a woman's hand.-There's more elegancy in the false spelling of this superscription [Takes up the letter.] than in all Cicero.-Let me see-How now!-Dear perfidious Vainlove! [Reads. Vain. Hold, hold: 'Slife! that's the wrongBell. Nay, let's see the name-Sylvia!-How canst thou be ungrateful to that creature? She's extremely pretty, and loves thee entirely. I have heard her breathe such raptures about thee

Vain. Ay, or any body that she's about

Bell. No, faith, Frank, you wrong her: she has been just to you.

Vain. That's pleasant, by my troth, from thee, who hast enjoy'd her.

Bell. Never Her affections-'tis true, by Heaven! she own'd it to my face; and, blushing like the virgin morn when it disclosed the cheat, which that trusty bawd of Nature, Night, had hid, confess'd her soul was true to you, though I, by treachery, had stolen the bliss.

Vain. So was true as turtle-in imagination, Ned, hey?-Preach this doctrine to husbands, and the married women will adore thee.

Bell. Why, faith, I think it will do well enough, —if the husbands be out of the way, for the wife to shew her fondness, and impatience of his absence, by choosing a lover as like him as she can ; and what is unlike she may help out with her own fancy.

Voin. But is it not an abuse to the lover to be made a blind of? For she only stalks under him, to take aim at her husband.

Bell. As you say, the abuse is to the lover, not the husband; for 'tis au argument of her great zeal towards him, that she will enjoy him in effigy.

Vain. It must be a very superstitious country, where such zeal passes for true devotion. I doubt it will be damn'd by all our protestant husbands for flat idolatry.-But if you can make alderman Fondlewife of your persuasion, this letter will be needless.

Bell. What, the old banker with the handsome wife?

Vain. Ay.

Bell. Let me see-Lætitia-O, 'tis a delicious morsel !- Dear Frank, thou art the truest friend in the world.

Vain. Ay, am I not? to be continually starting of hares for you to course.—We were certainly cut out for one another; for my temper quits an amour just where thine takes it up.-But read that it is an appointment for me this evening, when Fondlewife will be gone out of town, to meet the master of a ship, about the return of a venture which he's in danger of losing.—Read, read.

:

Bell. [Reads.] Hum, hum-Out of town this evening, and talks of sending for Mr Spintext to keep me company; but I'll take care he shall not be at home.-Good! Spintext!-O, the fanatic one-eyed parson!

Vain. Ay.

Bell. [Reads.] Hum, hum-That your conversation will be much more agreeable, if you can counterfeit his habit to blind the servants-Very good! Then I must be disguised-With all my heart-It adds a gusto to an amour; gives it the greater resemblance of theft; and, among us lewd mortals, the deeper the sin the sweeter.-Frank, I'm amazed at thy good-nature

Vain. Faith, I hate love when 'tis forced upon a man, as I do wine-And this business is none of my seeking; I only happened to be once or twice, where Lætitia was the handsomest woman in company, so consequently apply'd myself to her-And it seems she has taken me at my word-Had you been there, or any body, it had been the same.

Bell. I wish I may succeed as the same.

Vain. Never doubt it; for if the spirit of cuckoldom be once raised up in a woman, the devil cann't lay it, 'till she has done't.

Bell, Pr'ythee, what sort of fellow is Fendlewife?

Vain. A kind of mongrel zealot, sometimes very precise and peevish: But I have seen him pleasant enough in his way; much addicted to jealousy, but more to fondness: So that, as he is often jealous without a cause, he's as often satisfied without reason.

Bell. A very even temper, and fit for my purpose. I must get your man Setter to provide my disguise.

Vain. Ay, you may take him for good and all if you will, for you have made him fit for nobody else.-Well

Bell. You're going to visit in return of Sylvia's letter- -Poor rogue. Any hour of the day or night will serve her-But do you know nothing of a new rival there?

Vain. Yes, Heartwell, that surly, old pretended woman-hater, thinks her virtuous; that's one reason why I fail her: I would have her fret herself out of conceit with me, that she may entertain some thoughts of him. I know he visits her every day.

Bell. Yet rails on still, and thinks his love unknown to us; a little time will swell him so, he must be forced to give it birth, and the discovery must needs be very pleasant from himself, to see what pains he will take, and how he will strain to be delivered of a secret, when he has miscarried on't already.

Vain. Well, good morrow; let's dine together; I'll meet you at the old place.

Bell. With all my heart; it lies convenient for us to pay our afternoon service to our mistresses; I find I am damnably in love, I'm so uneasy for not seeing Belinda yesterday.

Vain. But I saw my Araminta, yet am as impatient. [Exit. Bell. Why what a cormorant in love am I! who, not contented with the slavery of honourable love in one place, and the pleasure of enjoying some half a score mistresses of my own acquiring, must yet take Vainlove's business upon my hands, because it lay too heavy upon his; so am not only forced to lie with other men's wives for 'em, but must also undertake the harder task of obliging their mistresses- -I must take up, or I shall never hold out; flesh and blood cannot bear it always.

Enter SHARPER.

Sharp. I'm sorry to see this, Ned: Once a man comes to his soliloquies, I give him for gone. Bell. Sharper, I'm glad to see thee. Sharp. What, is Belinda cruel, that you are so thoughtful?

Bell. No faith, not for that- -But there's a business of consequence fallen out to-day, that requires some consideration.

Sharp. Pr'ythee what mighty business of consequence canst thou have?

Bell. Why, you must know, 'tis a piece of work toward the finishing of an alderman; it seems I must put the last hand to it, and dub him cuckold, that he may be of equal dignity with the rest of his brethren: So I must beg Belinda's pardonSharp. Faith, e'en give her over for good and

all; you can have no hopes of getting her for a mistress, and she is too proud, too inconstant, too affected and too witty, and too handsome for a wife.

Bell. But she cann't have too much moneyThere's twelve thousand pound, Tom.-'Tis true she is excessively foppish and affected, but in my conscience, I believe the baggage loves me, for she never speaks well of me herself, nor suffers any body else to rail at me. Then, as I told you, there's twelve thousand pound-Hum--Why faith, upon second thoughts, she does not appear to be so very affected neither-Give her her due, I think the woman's a woman, and that's all. As such I'm sure I shall like her; for the devil take me if I don't love all the sex.

Sharp. And here comes one who swears as heartily he hates all the sex.

Enter HEARTWell.

Bell. Who, Heartwell! Ay, but he knows better things- How now, George! where hast thou been snarling odious truths, and entertaining company like a physician, with discourse of their diseases and infirmities? What fine lady hast thou been putting out of conceit with herself, and persuading that the face she had been making all the morning was none of her own? for I know thou art as unmannerly and as unwelcome to a woman, as a looking-glass after the small-pox.

Heart. I confess I have not been sneering fulsome lies and nauseous flattery, fawning upon a little tawdry whore, that will fawn upon me again, and entertain any puppy that comes, like a tumbler, with the same tricks over and over. For such, I guess, may have been your late employment.

Bell. Would thou hadst come a little sooner! Vainlove would have wrought thy conversion, and been a champion for the cause.

Heart. What, has he been here? that's one of love's April-fools, is always upon some errand that's to no purpose, ever embarking in adventures, yet never comes to harbour.

Sharp. That's because he always sets out in foul weather, loves to buffet with the winds, meet the tide, and sail in the teeth of opposition.

Heart. What, has he not dropt anchor at Araminta?

Bell. Truth on't is, she fits his temper best, is a kind of floating island; sometimes seems in reach, then vanishes, and keeps him busied in the search.

Sharp. She had need have a good share of sense to manage so capricious a lover.

Bell. Faith, I don't know, he's of a temper the most easy to himself in the world; he takes as much always of an amour as he cares for, and quits it when it grows stale or unpleasant.

Sharp. An argument of very little passion, very good understanding, and very ill-nature. Heart. And proves that Vainlove plays the fool with discretion.

Sharp. You, Bellmour, are bound in gratitude to stickle for him; you with pleasure reap that fruit, which he takes pains to sow: He does the