Brass. Yet I offer peace: one word without passion. The case stands thus, either I'm out of my wits, or you are out of yours. Now 'tis plain I am not out of my wits, ergoGripe. My bill, hangdog, or I'll strangle thee. [They struggle. Brass. Murder, murder! Enter CLARISSA, ARAMINTA, CORINNA, FLIPPANTA, and MONEY-TRAP.

cover so valuable a thing as my necklace, yet I must be just to all the world-this necklace is not mine.

Bruss. Huzza!-Here, constable, do your duty; Mr Justice, I demand my necklace, and satisfaction of him.

Gripe. I'll die before I part with it; I'll keep it, and have him hanged.

Clar. But be a little calm, my dear! do, my bird, and then thou'lt be able to judge rightly of

Clar. My necklace!

Gripe. That birdlime there-stole it.
Clar. Impossible!

Bruss. Madam, you see master's a little touched, that's all. Twenty ounces of blood let loose would set all right again.

Gripe. Here, call a constable presently. Neighbour Money-trap, you'll commit him.

Brass. D'ye hear? D'ye hear? See how wild he looks: how his eyes roll in his head: tie him down, or he'll do some mischief or other.

Gripe. Let me come at him.

Clar. Hold-pr'ythee, my dear, reduce things to a little temperance, and let us coolly into the secret of this disagreeable rupture.

Gripe. Well then, without passion: why, you must know, (but I'll have him hanged,) you must know that he came to Mr Clip, to Mr Clip the dog did—with a necklace to sell; so Mr Clip having notice before that (can you deny this, sirrah?) that you had lost yours, brings it to me. Look at it here, do you know it again? Ah, you traitor. [To BRASS.

Bruss. He makes me mad. Here's an appearance of something now to the company, and yet nothing in't in the bottom.

Enter Constable.

Clar. Flippanta! [Aside to FLIPPANTA, shewing the necklace.

Flip. "Tis it, faith; here's some mystery in this; we must look about us.

Clar. The safest way is point blank to disown the necklace.

Flip. Right; stick to that.

Gripe. Well, madam, do you know your old acquaintance, ho?

Clar. Why, truly, my dear, though (as you may all imagine) I should be very glad to re

Gripe. O good lack, O good lack!

Clar. No, but don't give way to fury and interest both; either of 'em are passions strong enough to lead a wise man out of the way. The necklace not being really mine, give it the man again, and come drink a dish of tea.

Brass. Ay, madam says right.

Gripe. Oons, if you with your addle head don't know your own jewels, I with my solid one do; and if I part with it, may famine be my portion.

Clar. But don't swear and curse thyself at this fearful rate; don't, my dove: be temperate in your words, and just in all your actions, 'twill bring a blessing upon you and your family.

Gripe. Bring thunder and lightning upon me and my family, if I part with my necklace.

Clar. Why, you'll have the lightning burn your house about your ears, my dear, if you go on in these practices.

Mon. A most excellent woman this. [Aside.

Enter Mrs AMLET.

Gripe. I'll keep my necklace.

Brass. Will you so? Then here comes one has a title to it, if I ha'n't; let Dick bring himself off with her as he can. Mrs Amlet, you are come in very good time; you lost a necklace t'other day, and who do you think has got it?

Mrs Am. Marry, that I know not, I wish I did. Brass. Why then here's Mr Gripe has it, and swears 'tis his wife's.

Gripe. And so I do, sirrah.-Look here, mis tress, do you pretend this is yours?

Mrs Am. Not for the round world I would not say it; I only kept it to do madam a small courtesy, that's all.

Clar. Ah, Flippanta, all will out now! [Aside to FLIP. Gripe. Courtesy! what courtesy ? Mrs Am. A little money only that madam had present need of; please to pay me that, and I demand no more.

Brass. So here's fresh game; I have started a new hare, I find.

{Aside. Gripe. How forsooth, is this true? [To CLAR. Clar. You are in a humour at present, love, to believe any thing, so I won't take the pains to contradict it.

Brass. This damned necklace will spoil all our affairs; this is Dick's luck again. [Aside. Gripe. Are you not ashamed of these ways? Do you see how you are exposed before your best friends here? Don't you blush at it?

Clar. I do blush, my dear, but 'tis for you, that

here it should appear to the world, you keep me so bare of money, I'm forced to pawn my jewels. Gripe. Impudent housewife!

[Raising his hand to strike her. Clur. Softly, chicken; you might have prevented all this, by giving me the two hundred and fifty pounds you sent to Araminta e'en now.

Brass. You see, sir, I delivered your noteHow I have been abused to-day!

Gripe. I'm betrayed-Jades on both sides, I see that. [Aside. Mon. But, madam, madam, is this true that I hear? Have you taken a present of two hundred and fifty pounds? Pray what were you to return for these pounds, madam, ha ?

Aram. Nothing, my dear; I only took 'em to reimburse you of about the same sum you sent to Clarissa.

Mon. Hum, hum, hum.

Gripe. How, gentlewoman, did you receive money from him?

Clar. O, my dear, it was only in jest, I knew you'd give it again to his wife.

Mrs Am. But, amongst all this bustle, I don't hear a word of my hundred pounds. Is it madam will pay me, or master?

Gripe. I pay? the devil shall pay.

Clar. Look you, my dear, malice apart, pay Mrs Amlet her money, and I'll forgive you the wrong you intended my bed with Araminta: am not I a good wife now?

Gripe. I burst with rage, and will get rid of this noose, though I tuck myself up in another. Mon. Nay, pray, e'en tuck me up with you. [Exeunt MON. and GRIPE. Clar. and Aram. B'y, dearies!

Enter DICK.

Cor. Look, look, Flippanta, here's the colonel come at last.

Dick. Ladies, I ask your pardon I have stayed so long, but

Mrs Am. Ah, rogue's face, have I got thee, old good-for-nought? Sirrah, sirrah, do you think to amuse me with your marriages and your great fortunes? Thou hast played me a rare prank, by my conscience: why, you ungracious rascal, what do you think will be the end of all this? Now heaven forgive me, but I have a great mind to hang thee for't.

of him.

Cor. She talks to him very familiarly, Flippanta. Flip. So methinks, by my faith. Brass. Now the rogue's star is making an end [Aside. Dick. What shall I do with her? [Aside. Mrs Am. Do but look at him, my dames, he has the countenance of a cherubim, but he's a rogue in his heart.

Clar. What is the meaning of all this, Mrs Amlet?

Mrs Am. The meaning, good lack! Why this all-to-be-powdered rascal here is my son, an't please you; ha, graceless? Now I'll make you own your mother, vermin.

Clar. What, the colonel your son ?

Mrs Am. 'Tis Dick, madam, that rogue Dick

I have so often told you of, with tears trickling down my old cheeks.

Aram. The woman's mad, it can never be. Mrs Am. Speak, rogue, am I not thy mother, ha? Did I not bring thee forth? say then.

Dick. What will you have me say? You had a mind to ruin me, and you have done it; would you do any more?

Clar. Then, sir, you are a son to good Mrs Amlet?

Aram. And have had the assurance to put upon us all this while?

Flip. And the confidence to think of marrying Corinna?

Brass. And the impudence to hire me for your servant, who am as well born as yourself? Clar. Indeed I think he should be corrected. Aram. Indeed I think he deserves to be cud gelled.

Flip. Indeed I think he might be pumpt. Brass. Indeed I think he will be hanged. Mrs Am. Good lack-a-day, good lack-a-day! there's no need to be so smart upon him neither; if he is not a gentleman, he's a gentleman's fellow. Come hither, Dick, they sha'n't run thee down neither cock up thy hat, Dick, and tell them, though Mrs Amlet is thy mother, she can make thee amends, with ten thousand good pounds to buy thee some lands, and build thee a house in the midst on't.

Omnes. How!

Clar. Ten thousand pounds, Mrs Amlet?

Mrs Am. Yes forsooth, though I should lose the hundred you pawned your necklace for. Tell 'em of that, Dick.

Cor. Look you, Flippanta, I can hold no longer, and I hate to see the young man abused. And so, sir, if you please, I'm your friend and servant, and what's mine is yours: and when our estates are put together, I don't doubt but we shall do as well as the best of 'em.

Dick. Sayest thou so, my little queen? Why then, if dear mother will give us her blessing, the parson shall give us a tack. We'll get her a score of grand-children, and a merry house we'll make her.

[They kneel to Mrs AMLET. Mrs Am. Ah-ha, ha, ha, ha, the pretty pair, the pretty pair! Rise, my chickens, rise; rise and face the proudest of them. And if madam does not deign to give her consent, a fig for her, Dick. Why how now?

Clar. Pray, Mrs Amlet, don't be in a passion, the girl is my husband's girl, and if you can have his consent, upon my word you shall have mine, for any thing that belongs to him.

Flip. Then all is peace again, but we have been more lucky than wise.

we are

Aram. And I suppose for us, Clarissa, to go on with our dears as we used to do. Clar. Just in the same tract, for this late treaty of agreement with 'em was so unnatural, you see it could not hold. But 'tis just as well with us as if it had. Well, 'tis a strange fate, good folks. But while you live, every thing gets well out of a [Exeunt omnes.

broil but a husband.

OUR author's wit and raillery to-night
Perhaps might please, but that your stage delight
No more is in your minds, but ears and sight.
With audiences composed of belles and beaux,
The first dramatic rule is, have good clothes,
To charm the gay spectator's gentle breast;
In lace and feather, tragedy's express'd,
And heroes die unpity'd, if ill-dress'd.

The other style you full as well advance ;
If 'tis a comedy, you ask- -Who dance?

For, oh what dire convulsions have of late
Torn and distracted each dramatic state,
On this great question, which house first should
sell

The new French steps, imported by Ruelle !
Desbarques cann't rise so high, we must agree,
They've half a foot in height more wit than we.
But though the genius of our learned age
Thinks fit to dance and sing, quite off the stage,
True action, comic mirth, and tragic rage;
Yet, as your taste now stands, our author draws

Some hopes of your indulgence and applause.
For that great end, this edifice he made,
Where humble swain at lady's feet is laid;
Where the pleased nymph her conquer'd lover
spies,

Then to glass pillars turns her conscious eyes,
And points a-new each charm, for which he dies.
The muse, before nor terrible nor great,
Enjoys by him this awful gilded seat:
By him, theatric angels mount more high,
And mimic thunders shake a broader sky.

Thus all must own, our author has done more
For your delight, than ever bard before.
His thoughts are still to raise your pleasures fill'd;
To write, translate, to blazon, or to build.
Then take him in the lump, nor nicely pry
Into small faults, that 'scape a busy eye;
But kindly, sirs, consider, he to-day
Finds you the house, the actors, and the play:
So, though we stage-mechanic rules omit,
You must allow it in a wholesale wit.

SCENE I.-The Street.

Enter CARLOS and SANCHO.

Car. I tell thee, I am satisfied; I'm in love enough to be suspicious of every body.

San. And yet methinks, sir, you should leave

me out.

Cur. It may be so; I cann't tell: But I'm not at ease. If they don't make a knave, at least they will make a fool of thee.

Sun. I don't believe a word on't: But good faith, master, your love makes somewhat of you: I don't know what 'tis; but methinks when you suspect me, you don't seem a man of half those parts I used to take you for. Look in my face, tis round and comely, not one hollow line of a villain in it: men of my fabric don't use to be suspected for knaves; and when you take us for fools, we never take you for wise men. For my part, in this present case, I take myself to be mighty deep. A stander-by, sir, sees more than a gamester. You are pleased to be jealous of your poor mistress without a cause; she uses you but too well, in my humble opinion; she sees you, and talks with you, till I'm quite tired on't sometimes; and your rival, that you are so scared about, forces a visit upon her, about once in a fortnight. Car. Alas! thou art ignorant in these affairs; he that's the civilest received, is often the least cared for women appear warm to one, to hide a flame for another. Lorenzo, in short, appears too composed of late to be a rejected lover, and the indifference he shews upon the favours I seem to receive from her, poisons the pleasure I else should taste in them, and keeps me upon a perpetual rack. No-I would fain see some of his jealous transports, have him fire at the sight of me, contradict me whenever I speak, affront me wherever he meets me, challenge me, fight me— San. Run you through the guts.

Car. But he's too calm, his heart's too much at ease, to leave me mine at rest.

San. But, sir, you forget that there are two ways for our hearts to get at ease; when our mistresses come to be very fond of us, or we-not to care a fig for them. Now, suppose, upon the rebukes you know he has had, it should chance to be the latter.

dearly, I have good thoughts enough of my person never to doubt the truth on't. See here the baggage comes.

Enter JACINTA with a letter. Hist! Jacinta! my dear.

Jac. Who's that, Blunderbuss? Where's your master?

I

San. Hard by.

[Shewing him. Jac. O, sir, I'm glad I have found you at last; believe I have travelled five miles after you, and could neither find you at home, nor in the walks, nor at church, or at the opera, nor▬▬

San. Nor any where else, where he was not to be found: If you had looked for him where he was, 'twas ten to one but you had met with him. Juc. I had, Jack-a-dandy!

Car. But, pr'ythee, what's the matter? Who sent you after me?

Jac. One who's never well but when she sees you, I think; 'twas my lady.

Car. Dear Jacinta, I fain would flatter myself, but am not able; the blessing's too great to be my lot ; yet 'tis not well to trifle with me; how short soe'er I am in other merit, the tenderness I have for Leonora claims something from her generosity. I should not be deluded.

Jac. And why do you think you are? Methinks she's pretty well above board with you: What must be done more to satisfy you?

San. Why Lorenzo must hang himself, and then we are content.

Juc. How! Lorenzo ?

San. If less will do, he'll tell you.

Juc. Why, you are not mad, sir, are you? Jealous of him! Pray which way may this have got into your head? I took you for a man of sense before. Is this your doings, log? [To SANCHO.

San. No, forsooth, Pert, I'm not much given to suspicion, as you can tell, Mrs Forward—If I were, I might find more cause, I guess, than your mistress has given our master here. But I have so many pretty thoughts of my own person, hussy, more than I have of yours, that I stand in dread of no man.

San. For my part, master, I'm not so great a philosopher as you be, nor (thank my stars) so bitter a lover, but what I see-that I generally believe; and when Jacinta tells me she loves me

man's falling off, you fall a-plaguing her to bring her on again, attack her with reason and a sour face: 'udslife, sir, attack her with a fiddle, double your good-humour-give her a ball-powder your periwig at her-let her cheat you at cards a little, and I'll warrant all's right again. But to come upon a poor woman with the gloomy face of jealousy, before she gives the least occasion for't, is to set a complaisant rival in too favour