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WYCHERLY.]

BRITISH DRAMA.

seize on her goods and chattels vi et armis? Ecod, if I was she, I'd make demand-bring my

trover.

Man. Good Mrs Blackacre, be pacified; if your cousin had her deserts, the law would be her greatest enemy. And now, madam, let me beg of you to accept of this, and, with it, my heart; both, I confess, too small a recompense for your merit; for you deserve the Indian world, and 1 would go thither, out of covetousness, for your sake.

Fide. Your heart, sir, is a present of that value, I can never make any return for it: but I can give you back such a present as this, which I got by the death of my father, a gentleman of the north, whose only child I was; [gives a paper.] therefore left me in the present posThe name of my session of 20001. a year. family is Grey; my other, Fidelia; the rest of my story you shall know, when I have fewer auditors.

Man. Nay, madam, you now take from me all power of making you any compliment on my part. was going to tell you, that, on your account only, I would forego the pleasures of a retirement I have long wished for, and be reconciled again to the world, which was grown odious to me but if I should, I doubt my friend here would say it was your estate made me friends with it.

Free. I must confess I should; for I think most of our quarrels to the world are just such as we sometimes have to a handsome woman, only because she won't grant us as many favours as we could wish.

Man. Nay, if you are a Plain Dealer, too, give me your hand; and, for your two sakes, though I have been so lately deceived in both sexes, I will believe there are still in the world good-natured friends who are not prostitutes, and [Exeunt omnes. handsome women worthy to be friends.

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MASKWELL, a villain; pretended friend to MEL-LADY TOUCHWOOD, in love with MELLEFONT. LEFONT, gallant to LADY TOUCHWOOD, and in CYNTHIA, daughter to SIR PAUL, by a former love with CYNTHIA.

LORD TOUCHWOOD, uncle to MELLEFONT.

MELLEFONT, promised to, and in love with CYNTHIA.

CARELESS, his friend.

LORD FROTH, a solemn corcomb.
BRISK.

SIR PAUL PLYANT, an uxorious, foolish, old knight, brother to LADY TOUCHWOOD, and father to CYNTHIA,

wife, promised to MELLEFONT.

LADY FROTH, a great coquet; pretender to poetry, wit, and learning.

LADY PLYANT, insolent to her husband, and easy to any pretender.

Chaplain, Boy, Footmen, and Attendants.

Scene-A gallery in LORD TOUCHWOOD's house, with chambers adjoining.

ACT I

SCENE I-A gallery in LORD TOUCHWOOD'S

house, with chambers adjoining.

Enter CARELESS, crossing the stage, with his hat, gloves, and sword in his hands, as just risen from table; MELLEFONT following him.

Mel. NED, Ned, whither so fast! What, turned flincher! Why, you will not leave us?

Care. Where are the women? I am weary of guzzling, and begin to think them the better company.

Mel. Then thy reason staggers, and thou art almost drunk.

Care. No, faith, but your fools grow noisy; and, if a man must endure the noise of words

without sense, I think the women have more mu sical voices, and become nonsense better.

Mel. Why, they are at the end of the gallery, retired to their tea and scandal, according to their ancient custom after dinner. But I made a pretence to follow you, because I had something to say to you in private, and I am not like to have many opportunities this evening.

Care. And here is this coxcomb most critically come to interrupt you.

Enter BRISK.

Brisk. Boys, boys, lads, where are you? What, do you give ground? Mortgage for a bottle, ha? Careless, this is your trick; you are always spoiling company by leaving it.

CONGREVE.]

BRITISH DRAMA.

Care. And thou art always spoiling company by coming into it.

Brisk. Pooh, ha, ha, ha! I know you envy me. Spite, proud spite, by the gods! and burning envy. I'll be judged by Mellefont here, who gives and takes raillery better, you or I. Pshaw, man; when I say you spoil company by leaving it, I mean you leave nobody for the company to laugh at. I think there I was with you, ha! Melle; font?

Mel. O' my word, Brisk, that was a home thrust-you have silenced him.

Brisk. Oh, my dear Mellefont, let me perish, if thou art not the soul of conversation, the very essence of wit, and spirit of wine—The deuce take me, if there were three good things said, or one understood, since thy amputation from the body of our society-Heh! I think that's pretty, and metaphorical enough: Egad, I could not have said it out of thy company-Careless, ha ! Care. Hum, what is it?

Brisk. O, mon cœur! What is it! Nay, gad, I will punish you for want of apprehension: the deuce take me, if I tell you.

Mel. No, no, hang him, he has no taste-But, dear Brisk, excuse me, I have a little business. Care. Prithee, get thee gone: thou see'st we are serious.

Mel. We'll come immediately, if you'll but go in, and keep up good humour and sense in the company: Prithee do-they'll fall asleep else.

Brisk. Egad so they will-Well, I will, I will; gad you shall command me from the zenith to the nadir. But the deuce take me, if I say a good thing till you come. But, prithee, dear rogue, make haste, prithee make haste, I shall burst else. And yonder your uncle, my lord Touchwood, swears he will disinherit you, and sir Paul Plyant threatens to disclaim you for a son-in-law, and my lord Froth won't dance at your wedding to-morrow; nor the deuce take me, I won't write your epithalamium-and see what a condition you are like to be brought to.

Mel. Well, I will speak but three words, and follow you.

Brisk. Enough, enough. Careless, bring your [Erit BRISK. apprehension along with you.

Care. Pert coxcomb!

Mel. Faith, 'tis a good-natured coxcomb, and has very entertaining follies-You must be more humane to him; at this juncture it will do me service. I'll tell you, I would have mirth continued this day at any rate, though patience purchase folly, and attention be paid with noise. There are times, when sense inay be unseasonable, as well as truth. Prithee, do thou wear none to-day; but allow Brisk to have wit, that thou mayst seem a fool.

Care. Why, how now, why this extravagant proposition?

Mel. O, I would have no room for serious design, for I am jealous of a plot I would have VOL. II.

noise and impertinence keep my Lady Touchwood's head from working for hell is not more busy than her brain, nor contains more devils than that imaginations.

Care. I thought your fear of her had been over. Is not to-morrow appointed for your marriage with Cynthia, and her father sir Paul Plyant come to sette the writings this day, on purpose?

Mel. True; but you shall judge, whether I have not reason to be alarmed. None, besides you and Maskwell, are acquainted with the secret of my aunt Touchwood's violent passion for ine. Since my first refusal of her addresses, she has endeavoured to do me all ill offices with my uncle; yet has managed them with that subtilty, that to him they have borne the face of kindness, while her malice, like a dark lanthorn, only shone upon me, where it was directed. Still it gave me less perplexity to prevent the success of her displeasure, than to avoid the importunities of her love; and, of two evils, I thought myself favoured in her aversion: but, whether urged by her despair, and the short prospect of time she saw to accomplish her designs; whether the hopes of revenge, or of her love, terminated in the view of this my marriage with Cynthia, I know not; but this morning she surprised me in my bed.

Care. Was there ever such a fury! It is well nature has not put it into her sex's power to ravish. Well, bless us! proceed. What followed?

Mel. What at first amazed me; for I looked to have seen her in all the transports of a slighted and revengeful woman: but when I expected thunder from her voice, and lightning in her eyes, I saw her melted into tears, and hushed into a sigh. It was long before either of us spoke; passion had tied her tongue, and amazement mine. In short, the consequence was thus: she omitted nothing, that the most violent love could urge, or tender words express; which, when she saw had no effect, but still I pleaded honour and nearness of blood to my uncle, then came the storm I feared at first; for, starting from my bedside like a fury, she flew to my sword, and, with much ado, I prevented her doing me or herself a mischief: having disarmed her, in a gust of passion she left me, and in a resolution, confirined by a thousand curses, not to close her eyes, till they had seen my ruin.

Care. Exquisite woman! But, what the devil! does she think thou hast no more sense than to get an heir to disinherit thyself? for, as I take it, this settlement upon you is with a proviso, that your uncle have no children.

Mel. It is so. Well, the service you are to do me will be a pleasure to yourself. I must get you to engage my lady Plyant all this evening, that my pious aunt may not work her to her interest; and, if you chance to secure her to yourself, you may incline her to mine. She is handsome, and

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knows it; is very silly, and thinks she has sense; and has an old fond husband.

Care. I confess a very fair foundation for a lover to build upon.

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tious person-and the best company.———And my lord Froth, your lordship is so merry a man, he, he, he!.

Lord Froth. O foy, sir Paul, what do you mean? Merry! O barbarous! I'd as lieve. you

Sir Paul. Nay, I protest and vow now, 'tis true; when Mr. Brisk jokes, your lordship's laugh does so become you, he, he, he!

Mel. For my lord Froth, he and his wife will be sufficiently taken up with admiring one ano-called me fool. ther, and Brisk's gallantry, as they call it. I will observe my uncle myself; and Jack Maskwell has promised me to watch my aunt narrowly, and give me notice upon any suspicion. As for sir Paul, my wise father-in-law that is to be, my dear Cynthia has such a share in his fatherly fondness, he | would scarce make her a moment uneasy, to have her happy hereafter.

Cure. So, you have manned your works; but I wish you may not have the weakest guard, where the enemy is strongest.

Mel. Maskwell, you mean; pr'ythee why should you suspect him?

Cure. Faith I cannot help it; you know I never liked him; I am a little superstitious in physiognomy.

Mel. He has obligations of gratitude to bind him to me; his dependence upon my uncle is through my means.

Care. Upon your aunt, you mean.
Mel. My aunt!

Lord Froth. Ridiculous! sir Paul, you're strangely mistaken; I find champagne is powerful. I assure you, sir Paul, I laugh at nobody's jest but my own, or a lady's; I assure you, sir Paul.

Brisk. How how, my lord? What, affront my wit! Let me perish, do I never say any thing worthy to be laughed at?

Lord Froth. O foy, don't misapprehend me : I don't say so; for I often smile at your concep tions. But there is nothing more unbecoming a man of quality, than to laugh; 'tis such a vulgar expression of the passion! every body can laugh. Then, especially, to laugh at the jest of an inferior person, or when any body else of the same quality does not laugh with one. Ridiculous! to be pleased with what pleases the crowd! Now, when I laugh, I always laugh alone.

Brisk. I suppose that's because you laugh at not-your own jests, 'egad, ha, ha, ha!

Care. I am mistaken, if there be not a familiarity between them you do not suspect, withstanding her passion for you.

Mel. Pooh, pool; nothing in the world but his design to do me service; and he endeavours to be well in her esteem, that he may be able to effect it.

Cure. Well, I shall be glad to be mistaken: but your aunt's aversion, in her revenge, cannot be any way so effectually shewn, as in bringing forth a child to disinherit you. She is handsome and cunning, and naturally wanton. Maskwell is flesh and blood at best, and opportunities between them are frequent. His affection to you, you have confessed, is grounded upon his interest; that you have transplanted; and, should it take root in my lady, I do not see what you can expect from the fruit.

Mel. I confess the consequence is visible, were your suspicions just.-But see, the company is broke up; let us meet them.

Enter Lord TOUCHWOOD, Lord FROTH, Sir
PAUL PLYANT, and BRISK.

Lord Touch. Out upon't, nephew -leave your father-in-law, and me, to maintain our ground against young people!

Mel. I beg your lordship's pardon-we were just returning

Lord Froth. He, he, I swear though! your raillery provokes me to a smile.

Brisk. Ay, my lord, it's a sign I hit you in the teeth, if you shew them.

Lord Froth. He, he, he! I swear that's so very pretty, I can't forbear.

Lord Touch. Sir Paul, if you please we'll retire to the ladies, and drink a dish of tea to. settle our heads.

Sir Paul. With all my heart.—Mr. Brisk, you'll come to us or call to me when you joke-I'll be ready to laugh incontinently.

[Exeunt Lord TovсH. and Sir PAUL. Mel. But does your lordship never see commedies?

Lord Froth. O yes, sometimes; but I never laugh.

Mel. No!

Lord Froth. Oh no-never laugh, indeed, sir. Care. No! Why, what d'ye go there for? Lord Froth. To distinguish myself from the commonalty, and mortify the poets;-the fellows grow so conceited, when any of their foolish wit prevails upon the side-boxes.—I swear—he, he, he! I have often constrained my inclinations to laugh—he, he, he! to avoid giving them encouragement.

Sir Paul. Were you, son? Gadsbud, much better as it is-Good, strange! I swear I'm al-well as malicious to them. most tipsy -t'other bottle would have been too powerful for me-as sure as can be it would.We wanted your company, but Mr. Brisk-it. where is he? I swear and vow he's a most face

Mel. You are cruel to yourself, my lord, as

Lord Froth. I confess I did myself some violence at first, but now I think I have conquered

Brisk. Let me perish, my lord, but there is

something very particular in the humour; 'tis true, it makes against wit, and I'm sorry for some friends of mine that write; but 'egad, I love to be malicious.-Nay, deuce take me, there's wit in't, too—and wit must be foiled by wit; cut a diamond with a diamond; no other way, 'egad.

Lord Froth. Oh, I thought you would not be long before you found out the wit,

Care, Wit! In what? Where the devil's the wit in not laughing, when a man has a mind to't? Brisk. O lord, why, can't you find it out?Why, there 'tis, in the not laughing- -Don't you apprehend me?-My lord, Careless is a very honest fellow; but hark ye-you understand me, somewhat heavy, a little shallow, or so.Why, I'll tell you now; suppose, now, you come up to me -Nay, pr'ythee, Careless, be instructed. Suppose, as I was saying, you come up to me, holding your sides, and laughing, as if you would- -Well-I look grave, and ask the cause of this immoderate mirth-You laugh on still, and are not able to tell me- -Still I look grave, not so much as smile.

Care. Smile, no; what the devil should you smile at, when you suppose I can't tell you?

Brisk. Pshaw, pshaw, pry'thee don't interrupt me. But I tell you, you shall tell me at last But it shall be a great while first.

Care. Well; but pr'ythee don't let it be a great while, because I long to have it over.

Brisk. Well, then, you tell me some good jest, or very witty thing, laughing all the while as if you were ready to die- and I hear it, and look thus. Would not you be disappointed? Care. No for if it were a witty thing, I should not expect you to understand it.

Lord Froth. O foy, Mr. Careless, all the world allows Mr. Brisk to have wit; my wife says he has a great deal. I hope you think her a judge. Brisk. Pooh, my lord, his voice goes for nothing. I can't tell how to make him apprehend. -Take it t'other way. Suppose I say a witty thing to you?

Care. Then I shall be disappointed, indeed. Mel. Let him alone, Brisk; he is obstinately bent not to be instructed,

Brisk. I'm sorry for him, the deuce take me. Mel. Shall we go to the ladies, my lord? Lord Froth. With all my heart; -methinks we are a solitude without them.

Mel. Or, what say you to another bottle of champagne ?

Lord Froth. O, for the universe, not a drop more, I beseech you. Oh, intemperate! I have a flushing in my face already.

[Takes out a pocket glass, and looks in it. Brisk, Let me sec, let me see, my lord! I broke my glass that was in the lid of my snuffbox. Hum! Deuce take me, I have encouraged a pimple here too, [Takes the glass, and looks. Lord Froth. Then you must mortify him with

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Lady Touch. Have you not wronged my Lord, who has been a father to you in your wants, and given you being? Have you not wronged him in the highest manner, in his bed?

Mask. With your ladyship's help, and for your service, as I told you before. I cannot deny that, neither. Any thing more, madam ?

Lady Touch. More! audacious villain. Oh, what's more is most my shame--Have you not dishonoured me?

Mask. No, that I deny: for I never told in all my life; so that accusation's answeredOn to the next.

Lady Touch. Death! do you dally with my passion? Insolent devil! But have a careprovoke me not; for, by the eternal fire, you shall not escape my vengeance! Calm villain! how unconcerned he stands, confessing treachery and ingratitude! Is there a vice more black!— Oh, I have excuses, thousands, for my faults: fire in my temper; passions in my soul, apt to every provocation; oppressed, at once, with love and with despair: but a sedate, a thinking villain, whose black blood runs temperately bad, what excuse can clear?

Mask. Will you be in temper, madam? I would not talk not to be heard. I have been [She walks about disordered.] a very great rogue for your sake, and you reproach me with it; I am ready to be a rogue still, to do you service; and you are flinging conscience and honour in my face, to rebate my inclinations. How am I to behave myself? You know I am your creature, my life and fortune in your power; to disoblige you brings me certain ruin. Allow it, I would betray you, I would not be a traitor to myself I do not pretend to honesty, because you know I am a rascal: but I would convince you, from the necessity of my being firm to you.

Lady Touch. Necessity, impudence! Can no gratitude incline you, no obligations touch you? Were you not in the nature of a servant, and have not I, in effect, made you lord of all, of me, and of my lord? Where is that humble love, the

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