PROLOGUE.

WHEN first our poet set himself to write,
Like a young bridegroom on his wedding-night,
He laid about him, and did so bestir him,
His muse could never lie in quiet for him:
But now his honey-moon is gone and past,
Yet the ungrateful drudgery must last:
And he is bound, as civil husbands do,
To strain himself, in complaisance to you:
To write in pain, and counterfeit a bliss,
Like the faint smacking of an after-kiss.
But you, like wives ill pleased, supply his want;
Each writing monsieur is a fresh gallant:
And though, perhaps, 'twas done as well before,
Yet still there's something in a new amour.
Your several poets work with several tools,
One gets you wits, another gets you fools:
This pleases you with some by-stroke of wit,
This finds some cranny that was never hit.
But should these janty lovers daily come
To do your work, like your good man at home,
Their fine small-timbered wits would soon decay;
These are gallants but for a holiday.

Others you had, who oftner have appeared,
Whom, for mere impotence, you have cashiered :
Such as at first came on with pomp and glory,
But, overstraining, soon fell flat before ye.
Their useless weight, with patience, long was born,
But at the last you threw them off with scorn.
As for the poet of this present night,

Though now he claims in you a husband's right,
He will not hinder you of fresh delight.
He, like a seaman, seldom will appear;
And means to trouble home but thrice a-year :
That only time from your gallants he'll borrow;
Be kind to-day, and cuckold him to-morrow.

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

WILDBLOOD,

BELLAMY,

} Two young English gentlemen.

MASKALL, their servant.

Don ALONZO DE RIBERA, an old Spanish gentleman. Don LOPEZ DE GAMBOA, a young noble Spaniard. Don MELCHOR DE GUZMAN, a gentleman of a great family; but of a decayed fortune.

Donna THEODOSIA,

Donna JACINTHA,

} Daughters to Don ALONZO.

Donna AURELIA, their cousin.

BEATRIX, woman and confident to the two Sisters.
CAMILLA, woman to AURELIA.

Servants to Don LOPEZ and Don ALONZO.

SCENE-Madrid, in the Year 1665.

The Time, the last Evening of the Carnival.

AN

EVENING'S LOVE;

OR, THE

MOCK ASTROLOGER.

ACT I. SCENE I.

Don LOPEZ, and a Servant walking over the stage. Enter another Servant, and follows him.

Serv. Don Lopez.

Lop. Any new business?

Serv. My master had forgot this letter,

Which he conjures you, as you are his friend,

To give Aurelia from him.

Lop. Tell Don Melchor,

"Tis a hard task which he enjoins me:

He knows I love her, and much more than he;

For I love her alone, but he divides

His passion betwixt two. Did he consider

How great a pain 'tis to dissemble love,

He would never practise it.

Serv. He knows his fault, but cannot mend it.

Lop. To make the poor Aurelia believe He's gone for Flanders, whilst he lies concealed, And every night makes visits to her cousinWhen will he leave this strange extravagance? Serv. When he can love one more, or t'other less. Lop. Before I loved myself, I promised him To serve him in his love; and I'll perform it, Howe'er repugnant to my own concernments. Serv. You are a noble cavalier. [Exit Servant. Enter BELLAMY, WILDBLOOD, and MASKALL. 2 Serv. Sir, your guests, of the English ambassador's retinue.

Lop. Cavaliers, will you please to command my coach to take the air this evening?

Bel. We have not yet resolved how to dispose of ourselves; but, however, we are highly acknowledging to you for your civility.

Lop. You cannot more oblige me, than by laying your commands on me.

Wild. We kiss your hand. [Exeunt LOPEZ and Serv: Bel. Give the Don his due, he entertained us nobly this carnival.

Wild. Give the devil the Don, for any thing I

liked in his entertainment.

Bel. I hope we had variety enough.

Wild. Ay, it looked like variety, till we came to taste it; there were twenty several dishes to the eye, but in the palate, nothing but spices. I had a mind to eat of a pheasant, and as soon as I got it into my mouth, I found I was chewing a limb of cinnamon; then I went to cut a piece of kid, and no sooner it had touched my lips, but it turned to red pepper: At last I began to think myself another kind of Midas, that every thing I touched should be turned to spice.

Bel. And, for my part, I imagined his Catholic