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man.

Tres to pass

to you.

sees PEGGY coming.) Hold! hold ! if the Cham- man of so little taste is not worth fighting for pagde does not hurt my eye-sight, while it shar- she's not worth my sword ! but if you'll fight me pens my wit, the enemy is marching up this way to-morrow morning for diversion, I am your

-Come on, Madam Alithea; now for a smart fire, and then let's see who will be ridiculous. Moody. Relinquish your title in the lady to

Belville peaceably, and you may sleep in a whole Enter PEGGY.

skin. Peg. Dear me, I begin to tremble—there is Spark. Belville ! he would not have your sisMr Sparkish, and I cann't get to Mr Belville's ter with the fortune of a nabob; no, no, his house without passing by hím-he sees memand mouth waters at your country tid-bit at homewill discover membe seems in liquor too!-bless much good may it do him. me!

Moody. And you think so, puppy-ha, ha, ha! Spark. O ho! she stands at bay a little she Spark. Yes, I do, mastiff-ha, ha, ha! don't much relish the engagement. The first Moody. Then thy folly is complete-ha, ha, ha! blow is half the battle. I'll be a little figurative Spark. Thine will be so, when thou hast marwith her. [Approaching her] I find, madam, ried thy country innocence-ba, ha, ha! you like a solo better than a duet. You need

[They laugh at euch other, not have been walking alone this evening, if you Chad been wiser yesterday—What, nothing to

Enter HARCOURT. say for yourself? Repentance, I suppose, makes Moody. Who have we here? you as awkward and as foolish as the poor coun- Spark. What, my boy Harcourt ! try girl your brother has lock'd up in Pall Mall. Moody. What brings you here, sir? Peg. I'm frighten'd out of my wits.

Har. Í follow'd you to Belville's, to present a

him. near relation of yours, and a nearer one of mine, Spark. Not a step farther shall you go, 'till

[Exit. you give me an account of your behaviour, and Spurk. What's the matter now? make me reparation for being ridiculous. What, dumb still-then, if you won't by fair means, I

Re-enter HARCOURT with ALITHEA. must squeeze you to a confession. (As he goes Har. Give me leave, gentlemen, without of. to seize her, she slips by him ; but he catches hold fence to either, to present Mrs Harcourt to you. of her before she reaches BELVILLE's door.) Not Spark. Alithea ! your wife !- -Mr Moody, quite so fast, if you please. Come, come, let are you in the clouds too ? me see your modest face, and hear your soft Moody. If I am not in a dream--I am the tongue-or I shall be tempted to use you ill. most miserable waking dog, that ever run mad

with his misfortunes and astonishment ! Enter Moody.

Har. Why so, Jack ?---can you object to my Moody. Hands off, you ruffian-how dare you happiness, when this gentleman was unworthy use a lady, and my sister, in this manner? of it?

[Moody walks about in a rage. [Moody takes her from SPARKISH. Spark. This is very fine, very fine indeedSpark. She's niy property, sir-transferred to where's your story about Belville now, Squire me hy you—and though I would give her up to Moody? Pr'ythee don't chafe, and stare, and any body for a dirty sword-knot, yet I won't be stride, and beat thy head, like a mad tragedy poet bullied out of my right, tho'it is not worth that, -but out with thy tropes and figures.

(Snaps his fingers. Moody. Zounds! I cann't bear it. Moody. There's a fellow to be a husband (Goes hastily to Belville's door, and knocks hard. you are justified in despising him, and Aying from Ali. Dear brother, what's the matter? him-I'll defend you with my purse and my Moody. The devil's the matter! the devil and sword knock at the door, and let me speak woman together. (Knocks again.) I'll break the to Belville.-(PEGGY knocks at the door; when door down if they won't answer. [Knocks again. the footman opens it, she runs in.)—Is your master at home, friend?

Fogtman appears in the balcony. Fool. Yes, sir.

Foot. What would your honour please to Moody. Tell him then that I have rescued that have ? lady from this gentleman, and that by her desire, Moody. Your master, rascal ! and my consent, she flies to him for protection; Foot. He is obeying your commands, sir, and if he can get a parson, let him marry her this, the moment he is finished he will do bimself the minute; tell him so, and shut the door. (Exit pleasure to wait upon you. Fool mun.)-And now, sir, if your wine has given Moody. You sneering villain you—If your you courage, you had better shew it upon this master does not produce that she devil, who is occasion, for you are still damn'd ridiculous. now with him, and who, with a face of inno

Spark. Did you ever hear the like! cence, has cheated and undone mc, I'll sct fire Look ye, Mr Moody, we are in the Park, and to his house.

(Exil Foot. to draw a sword is an offence to the court-so Spark. Gad so! now I begin to smoke the you may vapour as long as you please. A wo | business. Well said, simplicity, rural simplicity! 'Egad ! if thou hast trick'd Cerberus here, I shall Spark. Extremely pleasant, faith; ha, ha, ha! be so ravish’d, that I will give this couple a wed- Moody. I am stupified with shame, rage, and ding-dinner. Pray, Mr Moody, who's damn'd astonishment—my fate has o'ercome- -I can ridiculous now?

struggle no more with it. (Sighs.] What is left Moody: (Going to SPARKISH.) Look ye, sir me ? - I cannot bear to look, or be looked upon

-don't grin, for if you dare to shew your I will hurry down to my old house, take a teeth at my misfortunes, I'll dash 'em down your twelvemonth's provision into it-cut down my impudent throat, you jackanapes.

draw-bridge, run wild about my garden, which Spurk. (Quite culm.] Very fine, faith- -but I shall grow as wild as myself—then will I curse have no weapons to butt with a mad bull, so you the world, and every individual in it and when may toss and roar by yourself, if you please. my rage and spirits fail me, I will be found dead

among the nettles and thistles, a woeful examBE:VILLE appears in the balcony.

ple of the baseness and treachery of one sex, Belo. What does my good friend want with and of the falsehood, lying, perjury, deceit, imme?

pudence, and damnation of the other (Exit. Moody. Are you a villain, or are you not? Spark. Very droll, and extravagantly comic, I Beiv. I have obey'd your commands, sir. must confess; ha, ha, ha![Enter BELVILLE and Moody. What have you done with the girl, sir? PEGGY.] Look ye, Belville, I wish you joy, with Beld. Made her my wife, as you desired. all my heart-you have got the prize, and perSpark. Very true, I am your witness

haps have

caught a Tartar-that's no business of Moody. She's my wife, and I demand her. mine-If you want evidence for Mr Moody'sgi

ving his consent to your marriage, I shall be ready. PEGGY appears in the balcony. I bear no ill will to that pair. I wish you happy. Peg. No, but I a'n't- -What's the matter, (To ALITHEA and HARCOURT.) Tho' I am sure Bud, are you angry with me?

they'll be miserable and so your humble servant. Moody. How dare you look me in the face,

(Erit. cockatrice?

Peg. I hope you forgive me, Alithea, for playPeg. How dare you look me in the face, Bud? ing your brother this trick; indeed I should bave Have you not given me to another, when you only made him and myself miserable, had we ought to have married me yourself ? Have not married together, you pretended to be married to me, when you Ali. Then 'tis much better as it is But I knew in your conscience you was not?-And am yet in the dark how this matter has been have not you been shilly.shally for a long time? brought about; how your innocence, my dear, So that if I had not married dear Mr Belville, I has outwitted his worldly wisdom. should not have married at all-so I should not. Peg. I am sure I'll do any thing to please my (BELVILLE and PEGGY retire from the balcony. Bud, but marry him.

EPILOGUE.

SPOKEN BY PEGGY.

But you, good gentry, what say you to this? Great folks, I know, will call me simple slut,
You are to jud e me-have I done amiss? Marry for love! they cry, the country put !
I've reasons will convince you all, and strong ones, Marriage with them's a fashion soon growscool:
Except old folks, who hanker after young ones; But I'm for loving always, like a fool.
Bud was so passionate, and grown so thrifty, With half my fortune I would rather part,
'Twas a sad life ;—and then he was near fifty! Than be all finery, with an aching heart :
I'm but nineteen-my husband too is young, For these strange awkward notions don't abuse
So soft, so gentle, such a winning tongue !

me;
Have I, pray ladies speak, done very wrong? And, as I know no better, pray excuse me.
As for poor Bud, 'twas honest to deceive him !

(Exeunt omnes. More virtuous sure, to cheat him than to grieve

him.

THE

PLAIN DEALER.

BY WYCHERLY.

PROLOGUE.

SPOKEN BY THE PLAIN DEALER.

I THE Plain Dealer am to act to-day;

And your fair neighbours, in a limning poet, And my rough part begins before the play. No more than in a painter will allow it. First, you who scribble, yet hate all that write, Pictures too like, the ladies will not please : And keep each other company in spite,

They must be drawn too here like goddesses. As rivals in your common mistress, Fame, You, as at Lely's too, would truncheon wield, And, with faint praises, one another damn, And look like heroes in a painted field; 'Tis a good play (we know) you cann't forgive, But the course dauber of the coming scenes, But grudge yourselves the pleasure you receive; To follow life and nature only means; Our scribbler, therefore, bluntly bid me say, Displays you as you are; makes his fine woman He would not have the wits pleas’d here to-day. A mercenary jilt, and true to no man: Next, you, the fine, loud gentlemen o'th' pit, His men of wit and pleasure of the age Who damn all plays; yet if y'ave any wit, Are as dull rogues as ever cumber'd stage: "Tis but what here you spunge, and daily get; He draws a friend, only to custom just, Poets, like friends to whom you are in debt, And makes him naturally break his trust. You hate: and so rooks laugh, to see undone I, only, act a part like none of you; Those pushing gamesters whom they live upon. And yet, you'll say, it is a fool's part too, Well, you are sparks, and still will be i' th' fa- an honest man, who, like you, never winks shion;

At faults, but, unlike you, speaks what he thinks : Rail, then, at plays, to hide your obligation. The only fool who ne'er found patron yet; Now, you shrewd judges who the boxes sway, For truth is now a fault, as well as wit. Leading the ladies hearts and sense astray, And where else but on stages do we see And, for their sakes, see all, and hear no play, Truth pleasing, or rewarded honesty? Correct your cravats, foretops, lock behind; Which our bold poet does this day in me. The dress and breeding of the play ne'er mind. If not to th' honest, be to th' prosperous kind; Plain dealing is, you'll say, quite out of fashion; Some friends at court let the Plain Dealer find. You'll hate it here, as in a dedication:

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

My Lord PLAUSIBLE, a ceremonious, supple, comMEN.

mending coxcomb, in love with Olivia. MANLY, of an honest, surly, nice humour, sup- JERRY BLACKACRE, a true raw squire, under nge

posed first, in the time of the Dutch war, to and his mother's government, bred to the law. have procured the command of a ship, out of honour, not interest, and chusing a sea-life, only

WOMEN. to avoid the world..

OLIVIA, Manly's mistress. FREEMAN, Munly's lieutenant,u gentlenían well FIDELIA, in love with Manly, and followed him

educated, but of a broken fortune, a complier to sea in man's clothes. with the ange.

ELIZA, cousin to Olivia. VARNISH, Manly's bosom and only

friend.

LETTICE, Olivia's woman. NOVEL, a pert, railing coxcomb, and an admirer

The Widow BLACKACRE, a petulant, litigious wir of novelties, makes love to Olivia.

dow, always in law, and mother to Squire Jerry. Mujor Oldfox, an old, impertinent fop, geven to scribbling, makes love to the Widow Black | Lawyers, Knights of the Post, Bailiffs, and Al

dermen, a Bookseller's 'Prentice, a Foot-boy, Sailors, Waiters, and Attendants.

acre.

SCENE,-London.

ACT I.

SCENE L-Captain MANLY's Lodgings. for such as you, like common whores and pickEnter Captain Manly surlily, and my Lord pockets are only dangerous to those you embrace.

L. Plur. Such as I! Heavens defend mePLAUSIBLE following him, and two Sailors be

upon my honour hind.

Man. Upon your title, my lord, if you'd have Man. Tell not me, my good Lord Plausible, of

me believe you. your decorums, supercilious forms, and slavish L. Plau. Well, then, as I am a person of boceremonies; your little tricks, which you, the spa- nour, I never attempted to abuse or lessen any niels of the world, do daily over and over, for, and person in my life. to one another, not out of love or duty, but your Man. What, you were afraid ? servile fear.

L. Plau. No; but, scriously, I hate to do a L. Plau. Nay, i'faith, i'faith, you are too pas- rude thing: no, faith, I speak well of all mankind. sionate, and I must humbly beg your pardon, and Man. I thought so ; but know, that the speakleave to tell you, they are the arts and rules the ing well of all mankind is the worst kind of deprudent of the world walk by.

traction ; for it takes away the reputation of the Man. Let'em. But I'll have no leading-strings; few good men in the world, by making all alike : I can walk alone; I hate a harness, and will not now, I speak ill of most men, because they deserve tug on in a faction, kissing my leader behind, that it; I that can do a rude thing, rather than an unanother slave may do the like to me.

just thing. L. Plau. What, will you be singular then, like L. Plau. Well, tell not me, my dear friend, Hobody? follow love, and esteem nobody? what people deserve; I nc'er mind that ; I, like

Mun. Rather than be general, like you ; follow an author in a dedication, never speak well of a every body, court and kiss every body; though, man for his sake, but my own; I will not dispaperhaps, at the same time, you hate every body. rage any man, to disparage myself; for to speak

L. Plau. Why, seriously, with your pardon, ill of people behind their backs is not like a permy dear friend

son of honour; and, truly, to speak ill of 'em to Man. With your pardon, my no friend, I will their faces is not like a complaisant person : but not, as you do, whisper my hatred or my scorn, if I did say or do an ill thing to any, it should be call a man fool or knave, by signs or mouths over sure to be behind their backs, out of pure good his shoulder, whilst you have him in your arms;

manners.

Mun. Very well; but I, that am an unmanner-hulls, to sell a king's ship, when a brave fellow ly sea fellow, if I ever speak well of people, (which has fought her almost to a long-boat. is very seldom indeed,) it should be sure to be be- 1st Suil. On my conscience, then, Jack, that's hind their backs; and if I would say or do ill to the reason our bully tar sunk our ship; not only any, it should be to their faces: I would jostle that the Datch might not have her, but that the a proud, strutting, over-looking coxcomb at the courtiers, who laugh at wooden legs, might not head of his sycophants, rather than put out my make her prize. tongue at him when he were past me; would 2d Suil. A pox of his sinking, Tom! We have frown in the arrogant, big, dull face of an over- made a base, broken, short voyage of it. grown knave of business, rather than vent my 1st Sail. Ay, your brisk dealers in honour al. Spleen against him when his back were turn'd; ways make quick returns with their ship to the would give fawning slaves the lie, whilst they em- dock, and their men to the hospitals : 'tis, let me brace or commend me; cowards, whilst they brag; see, just a month since we set out of the river, call a rascal by no other title, though his father and the wind was almost as cross to us as the had left him a duke; laugh at fools aloud, before Dutch. their mistresses; and must desire people to leave 2d Sail. Well, I forgive him sinking my own me, when their visits grow at last as troublesome poor trunk, if he would but have given me time as they were at first impertinent.

and leave to have saved black Kate of Wapping's L. Plau. I would not have my visits troublesome. small venture.

Man. The only way to be sure not to have 'em 1st Sail. Faith, I forgive him, since, as the troublesome, is to make 'em when people are not purser told me, he sunk the value of five or six at home; for your visits, like other good turns, thousand pound of his own, with which he was are most obliging when made or done to a man to settle himself somewhere in the Indies; for our in his absence. A pox! why should any one, be- merry lieutenant was to succeed him in his comcause he has nothing to do, go and disturb ano-mission for the ship back; for he was resolved ther man's business?

never to return again for England. L. Plau. I beg your pardon, my dear friend. 2d Sail. So it seemed, by his fighting. What! you have business ?

1st Sail. No, but he was a weary of this side Man. If you have any, I would not detain your of the world here, they say. lordship.

2d Sail. Ay, or else he would not have bid so L. Plau. Detain me, dear sir! I can never have fair for a passage into t'other. enough of your company.

1st Sail. Jack, thou think'st thyself in the Man. I'm afraid I should be tiresome: I know forecastle, thou’rt so waggish; but I tell you, then, not what you think.

he had a mind to go live and bask himself on the L. Plau. Well, dear sir, I see you would have sunny side of the globe. me gone.

2d Sail. What, out of any discontent ? for he's Man. But I see you won't.

[.4side. always as dogged as an old tarpaulin, when L. Plau. Your most faithful

hindered of a voyage by a young pantaloon capMan. God be wi'ye, my lord.

tain. L. Plan. Your most humble

1st Sail. 'Tis true; I never saw him pleased Man. Farewell.

but in the fight, and then he looked like one of L. Plau. And eternally

us coming from the pay-table, with a new lining Man. And eternally ceremony-then the devil to our hats under our arms. take thee eternally.

(Aside. 2d Sail. A pox ! he's like the Bay of Biscay,L Plau. You shall use no ceremony, by my life. rough and angry, let the wind blow where 'twill. Man. I do not intend it.

ist Sail. Nay, there's no more dealing with L. Plau. Why do you stir then ?

him than with the land in a storm; no nearMan. Only to see you out of doors, that I 2d Sail. 'Tis a hurry-durry blade. Dost thou may shut 'em against more welcomes.

remember, after we had tugged hard the old leaky 1. Plau. Nay, faith, that shall not pass upon long-boat, to save his life, when I welcomed him your most faithful, humble servant.

a-shore, he gave me a box on the car, and called Man. Nor this any more upon me. (Aside. me fawning water-dog. 1. Plau. Well, you are too strong for me. Man. I'd sooner be visited by the plague;

Enter MANLY and FREEMAN. for that only would keep a man from visits, and 1st Sail. Hold thy peace, Jack, and stand by ; bis doors shut.

[ Aside. the foul weather's coming. (Exit, thrusting out my Lord PLAUSIBLE. Man. You rascal dogs, how could this tame

thing get through you? Manent Sailors.

1st Sail. Faith, to tell your honour the truth, 1st Sail. Here's a finical fellow, Jack! What we were at Hob in the Hall, and whilst my broa brave fair-weather captain of a ship he would ther and I were quarrelling about a cast, he slunk make!

by us. 2d Sail. He a captain of a ship! it must be 2d Sail. He's a sneaking fellow, I warrant for't. when she's in the dock then; for he looks like Man. Have more care for the future, you one of those that get the king's commissions for slaves. Go, and,with drawn cutlasses, stand at the

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