"often they laughed out, there goes my landlady; is "she not come to let lodgings yet?

"Luc. Young coxcombs that knew no better.

"Well. And that we must have come to. For << your part, what trade could you set up in? You "would never arrive at the trust and credit of a "guinea-bawd; you would have too much business "of your own ever to mind other people's.

་

"Luc. That is true, indeed.

"Well. Then as a certain sign that there was no"thing more to be hoped for, the maids of the "chocolate-houses found us out, and laughed at us: 66 our billet-doux lay there neglected for waste-paper: we were cry'd down so low, we could not pass upon "the city; and became so notorious in our galloping "" way, from one end of the town to t'other, that at "last we could hardly compass a competent change "of petticoats to disguise us to the hackney coach"men: and then it was near walking a foot indeed. "Luc. Nay, that I began to be afraid of.

"Well." To prevent which, with what youth and beauty were left, some experience, and the small remainder of fifteen hundred pounds a-piece, which amounted to bare two hundred between us both, I persuaded you to bring your person for a venture to the Indies. Every thing has succeeded in our voyage I pass for your brother one of the richest planters here happening to die just as we landed, I have claimed kindred with him: so without making his will, he has left us the credit of his relation to

:

trade

"C upon :

we pass for his cousins, coming here "to Surinam chiefly upon his invitation;" we live in reputation; have the best acquaintance in the place; and we shall find our account in't, I warrant you. Luc. I must rely upon you.

Enter Widow LACKITT.

Wid. Mr. Welldon, your servant. Your servant, Mrs. Lucy, I am an ill visitor, but 'tis not too late, I hope, to bid you welcome to this side of the world. [Salutes Lucy.

Well. Gad so, I beg your pardon, widow, I should have done the civilities of my house before; but, as you say, 'tis not too late, I hope [Going to kiss her.

Wid. What! you think now this was a civil way of begging a kiss; and, by my troth, if it were, I see no harm in it; 'tis a pitiful favour indeed that is not worth asking for: though I have known a woman speak plainer before now, and not understood neither, Well. Not under my roof. Have at you, widow.

Wid. Why that's well said, spoke like a younger brother, that deserves to have a widow.-[He kisses her.] You're a younger brother I know by your kissing. Well. How so, pray?

Wid. Why, you kiss as if you expected to be paid for't. You have birdlime upon your lips. You stick. so close, there's no getting rid of you.

Well. I am a-kin to a younger brother.

Wid. So much the better: we widows are commonly the better for younger brothers.

B

Luc. Better or worse, most of you. But you won't be much the better for him, I can tell you.[Aside.

Well. I was a younger brother; but an uncle of my mother's has maliciously left me an estate, and, I'm afraid, spoiled my fortune.

Wid. No, no; an estate will never spoil your fortune; I have a good estate myself, thank heaven, and a kind husband that left it behind him.

Well. Thank heaven that took him away from it, widow, and left you behind him.

Wid. Nay, Heaven's will must be done; he's in a better place.

Well. A better place for you, no doubt on't: now you may look about you; choose for yourself, Mrs. Lackitt, that's your business; for I know you design to marry again.

Wid. Oh, dear! not I, I protest and swear; I don't design it: but I won't swear neither; one does not know what may happen to tempt one.

Well. Why a lusty young fellow may happen to tempt you.

Wid. Nay, I'll do nothing rashly: I'll resolve against nothing. The devil, they say, is very busy upon these occasions, especially with the widows. But, if I am to be tempted, it must be with a young man, I promise you-Mrs. Lucy, your brother is a very pleasant gentleman: I came about business to him, but he turns every thing into merriment.

Well. Business, Mrs. Lackitt? then I know, you would have me to yourself. Pray, leave us together,

sister. [Exit Lucy.] What am I drawing upon myself

here?

[Aside.

Wid. You have taken a very pretty house here; every thing so neat about you already. I hear you are laying out for a plantation.

Well. Why, yes truly, I like the country, and would buy a plantation, if I could reasonably. Wid. Oh, by all means reasonably.

Well. If I could have one to my mind, I would think of settling among you.

Wid. Oh, you can't do better. Indeed we can't pretend to have so good company for you, as you had in England; but we shall make very much of you. For my own part, I assure you, I shall think myself very happy to be more particularly known to you. Well. Dear Mrs. Lackitt, you do me too much ho

nour.

Wid. Then as to a plantation, Mr. Welldon, you know I have several to dispose of. Mr. Lackitt, I thank him, has left, though I say it, the richest widow upon the place; therefore I may afford to use you better than other people can. You shall have one upon

any reasonable terms.

Well. That's a fair offer, indeed.

Wid. You shall find me as easy as any body you can have to do with, I assure you. Pray try me; I would have you try me, Mr. Welldon. Well, I like that name of yours exceedingly, Mr. Welldon.

Well. My name!

'Wid. Oh, exceedingly! If any thing could persuade me to alter my own name, I verily believe nothing in the world would do it so soon, as to be called Mrs. Welldon.

Well. Why, indeed Welldon doth sound something better than Lackitt.

Wid. Oh, a great deal better. Not that there is so much in the name neither. But, I don't know, there is something; I should like mightily to be called Mrs. Welldon.

Well. I'm glad you like my name.

Wid. Of all things. But then there's the misfortune, one cannot change one's name without changing one's condition.

Well. You'll hardly think it worth that, I believe. Wid. Think it worth what, Sir? Changing my condition! Indeed, Sir, I think it worth every thing. But alas, Mr. Welldon! I have been a widow but six weeks; 'tis too soon to think of changing one's condition yet: indeed it is: pray don't desire it of me: not but that you may persuade me to any thing, sooner than any person in the world.

Well. Who, I, Mrs. Lackitt ?

Wid. Indeed you may, Mr. Welldon, sooner than any man living. Lord, there's a great deal in saving a decency: I never minded it before; well I am glad you spoke first, to excuse my modesty. But, what? modesty means nothing, and is the virtue of a girl, that does not know what she would be at: a widow should be wiser. Now I will own to you, (but I