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SCENE I.

ACT III.

Enter LORD TOUCHWOOD, and LADY TOUCH

WOOD.

cing to me, which create your satisfaction or disquiet.

Lady Touch. But those which cause my disquiet I am willing to have remote from your hearLady Touch. My lord, can you blame my bro-ing. Good my lord, don't press me. ther Plyant, if he refuse his daughter upon this provocation? The contract is void, by this un- Lady Touch. Whatever it was, it is past; and heard of impiety. that is better to be unknown which cannot be

Lord Touch. Don't oblige me to press you.

satisfied

Lord Touch. When you have told me, I will.
Lady Touch. You won't.

Lord Touch. I don't believe it true; he has bet-prevented; therefore, let me beg of you to rest ter principles-Pho, 'tis nonsense. Come, come, I know my lady Plyant has a large eye, and would centre every thing in her own circle; 'tis not the first time she has mistaken respect for love, and made sir Paul jealous of the civility of an undesigning person, the better to bespeak his security in her unfeigned pleasures.

Lady Touch. You censure hardly, my lord; my sister's honour is very well known.

Lord Touch. Yes, I believe I know some that have been familiarly acquainted with it. This is a little trick, wrought by some pitiful contriver, envious of my nephew's merit.

Lady Touch. Nay, my lord, it may be so, and I hope it will be found so: but that will require some time; for, in such a case as this, demonstration is necessary,

Lord Touch. There should have been demonstration of the contrary, too, before it had been believed

Lady Touch. So, I suppose, there was. Lord Touch. How? Where? When? Lady Touch. That I cannot tell; nay, I don't say there was-I am willing to believe as favourably of my nephew as I can.

Lord Touch. I don't know that. [Half aside. Lady Touch. How? Don't you believe that, say you, my lord?

Lord Touch. No, I don't say so-I confess I am troubled to find you so cold in his defence. Lady Touch. His defence! Bless me, would you have me defend an ill thing?

Lord Touch. You believe it, then?

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Lord Touch. By my life, my dear, I will.
Lady Touch. What if you cannot?

Lord Touch. How? Then, I must know; nay,
I will. No more trifling-I charge you tell me
By all our mutual peace to come; upon your du-

ty

Lady Touch. Nay, my lord, you need say no more to make me lay my heart before you; but don't be thus transported; compose yourself; it is not of concern to make you lose one minute's temper; it is not, indeed, my dear. Nay, by this kiss you shall not be angry. O Lord! I wish I had not told you any thing. Indeed, my lord, you have frighted me. Nay, look pleased, I will tell you.

Lord Touch. Well, well.

Lady Touch. Nay, but will you be calm?Indeed, it is nothing but

Lord Touch. But what?

Lady Touch. But will you promise me not to be angry?-Nay, you must not to be angry with Mellefont-I dare swear he is sorry; and, were it to do again, would not

Lord Touch. Sorry, for what? 'Death! you rack me with delay.

Lord Touch. Confusion and hell, what do I hear!

Lady Touch. Nay, no great matter, onlyWell, I have your promise-Pho, why, nothing; only your nephew had a mind to amuse himself sometimes with a little gallantry towards me. Nay, I cannot think he meant any thing seriousLady Touch. I don't know; I am very unwill-ly, but methought it looked oddly. ing to speak my thoughts in any thing that may be to my cousin's disadvantage. Besides, I find, my lord, you are prepared to receive an ill impression from any opinion of mine which is not consenting with your own: but, since I am like to be suspected in the end, and 'tis a pain any longer to dissemble, I own it to you: In short, I do believe it, nay, and can believe any thing worse, if it were laid to his charge-Don't ask me my reasons, my lord, for they are not fit to be told you.

Lord Touch. I am amazed! Here must be something more than ordinary in this. [Aside.] Not fit to be told me, madam? You have no interest wherein I am not concerned; and, consequently, the same reasons ought to be convinVOL. II.

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Lady Touch. Or, may be, he thought he was not enough akin to me upon your account, and had a mind to create a nearer relation on his own; a lover, you know, my lord-ha, ha, ha! Well, but that's all. Now you have it; well, remember your promise, my lord, and don't take any notice of it to him.

Lord Touch. No, no, no-Damnation!

Lady Touch. Nay, I swear you must not-A little harmless mirth-only misplaced, that's all. But if it were more, it is over now, and all is well. For my part, I have forgot it; and so has he, I hope; for I have not heard any thing from him these two days.

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Lord Touch. These two days! Is it so fresh? | Unnatural villain! 'Death, I will have him stripped, and turned naked out of my doors this moment, and let him rot and perish, incestuous brute!

Lady Touch. Oh, for Heaven's sake, my lord, you will ruin me, if you take such public notice of it; it will be a town-talk: consider your own, and my honour-Nay, I told you, you would not be satisfied when you knew it.

Lord Touch. Before I have done, I will be satisfied. Ungrateful monster! How long?

Lady Touch. Lord! I don't know-I wish my lips had grown together when I told you— Almost a twelvemonth-Nay, I won't tell you any more till you are yourself. Pray, my lord, don't let the company see you in this disorder-Yet, I confess, I cannot blame you; for I think I was never so surprised in my life. Who would have thought my nephew could have so misconstrued my kindness-But will you go into your closet, and recover your temper. I will make an excuse of sudden business to the company, and come to you. Pray, good dear my lord, let me beg you I will come immediately, and tell you all-Will you, my lord?

do now:

Lord Touch. I will-I am mute with wonder. Lady Touch. Well, but go now; here is somebody coming.

Lord Touch. Well, I go-You won't stay, for I would hear more of this. [Exit.

Lady Touch. I follow instantly-So.

Enter MASK WELL.

Mask. This was a master-piece, and did not need my help-though I stood ready for a cue to come in and confirm all, had there been occasion. Lady Touch. Have you seen Mellefont? Mask. I have; and am to meet him here about this time.

Lady Touch. How does he bear his disappointment?

Mask. Secure in my assistance, he seemed not much afflicted, but rather laughed at the shallow artifice, which so little time must, of necessity, discover. Yet he is apprehensive of some farther design of yours, and has engaged me to watch you. I believe he will hardly be able to prevent your plot; yet I would have you use caution and expedition.

Lady Touch. Expedition indeed; for all we do must be peformed in the remaining part of this evening, and before the company break up, lest my lord should cool, and have an opportunity to talk with him privately-My lord must not see him again.

Mask. By no means; therefore, you must aggravate my lord's displeasure to a degree that will admit of no conference with him-What think you of mentioning me?

Lady Touch. How?

Mellefont's design upon you; but still using my utmost endeavours to dissuade him: though my friendship and love to him has made me conceal it, yet you may say, I threatened, the next time he attempted any thing of that kind, to discover it to my lord.

Lady Touch. To what end is this?

Mask. It will confirm my lord's opinion of my honour and honesty, and create in him a new con fidence in me, which (should this design miscarry) will be necessary to the forming another plot that I have in my head-to cheat you as well as the rest. [Aside.

Lady Touch. I'll do it.

Mask. Excellent! You had best go to my lord, keep him as long as you can in his closet, and I doubt not but you will mould him to what you please; your guests are so engaged in their own follies and intrigues, they'll miss neither of you. When shall we meet?

Lady Touch. At eight this evening, in my chamber; there, rejoice at our success, and toy away an hour in mirth. [Exit.

Mask. I will not fail. I know what she means by toying away an hour well enough. Pox, I have lost all my appetite to her; yet she's a fine woman, and I loved her once. Should she smoke my design upon Cynthia, I were in a fine pickle. She has a damned penetrating head, and knows how to interpret a coldness the right way; therefore, I must dissemble ardour and ecstacy, that's resolved: Ha! yonder comes Mellefont thoughtful. Let me think: meet her at eight-humha! by Heaven I have it-if I can speak to my lord before-I will deceive them all, and yet secure myself; 'twas a lucky thought! Well, this double-dealing is a jewel. Here he comes! now

for me

[MASKWELL, pretending not to see him, walks by him, and speaks as it were to himself.]

Enter MELLEFONT, musing. Mercy on us! what will the wickedness of this world come to?

Mel. How now, Jack? What, so full of contemplation that you run over!

Mask. I'm glad you are come, for I could not contain myself any longer, and was just going to give vent to a secret, which nobody but you ought to drink down. Your aunt is just gone from hence.

Mel. And having trusted thee with the secrets of her soul, thou art villainously bent to discover them all to me, ha?

Mask. I am afraid my frailty leans that waybut I dont know, whether I can, in honour, discover them all.

Mel. All, all, man. What, you may, in honour, betray her as far as she betrays herself. No tragical design upon my person, I hope.

Mask. No, but it is a comical design upon

Mask. To my lord, as having been privy to mine.

Mel. What dost thou mean? Mask. Listen, and be dumb-we have been bargaining about the rate of your ruin

Mel. Like any two guardians to an orphan heiress-Well.

Mask. And whereas pleasure is generally paid with mischief, what mischief I do is to be paid with pleasure.

Mel. So, when you've swallowed the potion, you sweeten your mouth with a plumb.

Mask. You are merry, sir, but I shall probe your constitution. In short, the price of your banishment is to be paid with the person of

Mel. Of Cynthia, and her fortune-why, you forget you told me this before.

Mask. No, no-so far, you are right; and I am, as an earnest of that bargain, to have full and free possession of the person of- -your

aunt.

Mel. Ha! Pho, you trifle.

Mask. By this light, I am serious; all raillery apart-I knew 'twould stun you: this evening, at eight, she will receive me in her bed-chamber.

Mel. Hell and the devil! is she abandoned of all grace-why? the woman is possessed—

Mask. Well, will you go in my stead?
Mel. By Heaven, into a hot furnace sooner!
Mask. No, you would not-it would not be so
convenient, as I can order matters.

Mel. What do you mean?

about; but I made love a great while to no purpose.

Mel. Why, what's the matter? she is convinced that I don't care for her.

Care. I cannot get an answer from her, that does not begin with her honour, or her virtue, her religion, or some such cant. Then, she has told me the whole story of sir Paul's nine year's courtship; how he has lain, for whole nights together, upon the stairs before her chamber-door; and that the first favour he received from her was a piece of an old scarlet petticoat for a stomacher; which, since the day of his marriage, he has, out of a piece of gallantry, converted into a nightcap, and wears it still with much solemnity on his anniversary wedding night.

Mel. That I have seen, with the ceremony thereunto belonging-for, on that night, he creeps in at the bed's feet, like a guiled bassa that has married a relation of the grand signior. I wonder he never told you his grievances; he will, I warrant you.

Care. Excessively foolish! but that, which gives me most hopes of her, is her telling me of the many temptations she has resisted.

Mel. Nay, then you have her; for a woman's bragging to a man, that she has overcome temptations, is an argument, that they were weakly offered, and a challenge to him to engage her more irresistibly. 'Tis only an enhancing the price of the commodity, by telling you how many custom

Mask. Mean! not to disappoint the lady, I assure you-Ha, ha, ha! how gravely he looks-ers have underbid her. come, come, I won't perplex you. 'Tis the only thing that Providence could have contrived to make me capable of serving you, either to my inclination, or your own necessity.

Mel. How, how, for Heaven's sake, dear Maskwell?

Mask. Why thus-I'll go according to appointment; you shall have notice, at the critical minute, to come and surprize your aunt and me to gether; counterfeit a rage against me, and I will make my escape through the private passage from her chamber, which I will take care to leave open: 'twill be hard, if then you can't bring her to any conditions. For this discovery will disarm her of all defence, and leave her entirely at your mercy: nay, she must ever after be in awe

of you.

Mel. Let me adore thee, my better genius! by Heaven, I think it is not in the power of Fate to disappoint my hopes-my hopes! my certainty.

Mask. Well, I'll meet you here within a quarter of eight, and give you notice.

Care. Nay, I dont despair-but still she has a grudging to you-I talked to her t'other night at my lord Froth's masquerade, when I am satisfied she knew me, and I had no reason to complain of my reception; but I find women are not the same bare-faced, and in masks-and a vizor disguises their inclinations as much as their faces.

Mel. Here they come. I'll leave you. Ply her close, and by and by clap a billet-doux into her hand: for a woman never thinks a man truly in love with her, till he has been fool enough to think of her out of her sight, and to lose so much time as to write to her.

[Exit MELLEFONT.

Enter SIR PAUL and LADY PLYANT.
Sir Paul. Shan't we disturb your meditation,
Mr Careless? You would be in private ?

Care. You bring that along with you, sir Paul, that shall be always welcome to my privacy.

Sir Paul. O, sweet sir! you load your humble servants, both me and my wife, with contifavours.

[Exit MASKWELL.nual Mel. Good fortune ever go along with thee.

Enter CARELESS.

Care. Mellefont, get out of the way; my lady Plyant's coming, and I shall never succeed, while thou art in sight-though she begins to tack

Lady Ply. Sir Paul, what a phrase was there! You will be making answers, and taking that upon you, which ought to lie apon me: that you should have so little breeding to think Mr Careless did not apply himself to me! Pray, what have you to entertain any body's privacy? I swear

and declare, in the face of the world, I am ready | to blush for your ignorance.

Sir Paul. I acquiesce, my lady; but don't snub so loud.

[Aside to her. Lady Ply. Mr Careless, if a person, that is wholly illiterate, might be supposed to be capa ble of being qualified to make a suitable return to those obligations, which you are pleased to confer upon one that is wholly incapable of being qualined in all those circumstances, I am sure I should rather attempt it than any thing in the world-Courtesies]-for I am sure there is nothing in the world that I would rather. [Courtesies.] But I know Mr Careless is so great a critic, and so fine a gentleman, that it is impossible for me-

Care. Oh, Heavens! Madam, you confound

me.

Sir Paul. Gad's bud, she is a fine person

Lady Ply. O lord! sir, pardon me : we women have not those advantages: I know my own imperfections but, at the same time, you must give me leave to declare, in the face of the world, that nobody is more sensible of favours and things; for, with the reserve of my honour, I assure you, Mr Careless, I don't know any thing in the world I would refuse to a person so meritorious You'll pardon my want of expression.

Care. Oh, your ladyship is abounding in all excellence, particularly that of phrase.

Lady Ply. You are so obliging, sir.
Care. Your ladyship is so charining.
Sir Paul. So, now, now; now, my lady.
Lady Ply. So well bred.

Care. So surprizing.

Lady Ply. So well drest, so bonne mien, so eloquent, so unaffected, so easy, so free, so particular, so agreeable

Sir Paul. Aye, so, so, there.

Care. Olord! I beseech you, madam, don't— Lady Ply. So gay, so graceful, so good teeth, so fine shape, so fine limbs, so fine linen, and I don't doubt but you have a very good skin, sir.

Care. For Heaven's sake, madam-I am quite out of countenance.

Sir Paul. And my lady's quite out of breath; or else you should hear-Gad's bud, you may talk of my lady Froth.

Care. O fy, fy! not to be named of a day-my lady Froth is very well in her accomplishments but it is, when my lady Plyant is not thought ofif that can ever be.

Ludy Ply. Oh, you overcome me— -that is so

excessive.

Sir Paul. Nay, I swear and vow that was pretty.

Cure. Oh, sir Paul, you are the happiest man alive. Such a lady! that is the envy of her own sex, and the admiration of ours!

Sir Paul. Your humble servant; I am, I

thank Heaven, in a fine way of living, as I may say, peacefully and happily, and I think need not envy any of my neighbours, blessed be Providence-Aye, truly, Mr Careless, my lady is a great blessing; a fine, discreet, well-spoken woman as you shall see-if it becomes me to say so; and we live very comfortably together; she is a little hasty sometimes, and so am I; but mine is soon over; and then, I am so sorry-Oh, Mr Careless, if it were not for one thing

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Care. What can that be, sir Paul?

Sir Paul. Why, I have, I thank Heaven, a very plentiful fortune, a good estate in the country, some houses in town, and some money, a pretty tolerable personal estate; and it is a great grief to me, indeed it is, Mr Careless, that I have not a son to inherit this. 'Tis true, I have a daughter, and a find dutiful child she is, though I say it, blessed be Providence I may say; for indeed, Mr Careless, I am mightily beholden to Providence-A poor unworthy sinner-But if I had a a son, ah! that's my affliction, and my only affliction; indeed, I cannot refrain tears, when it comes into my mind. [Cries.

Care. Why, methinks that might be easily remedied; my lady is a fine likely woman. Sir Paul. Oh, a fine likely woman as you shall see in a summer's day-Indeed she is, Mr Careless, in all respects.

Care. And I should not have taken you to have been so old

Sir Paul. Alas! that's not it, Mr Careless: ah! that's not it; no, no; you shoot wide of the mark a mile; indeed you do; that's not it, Mr Careless; no, no; that's not it.

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though far unworthy of that honour, yet I am her husband; but alas-a-day! I have no more familiarity with her person-than with my own mother-no, indeed.

Care. Alas-a-day! this is a lamentable story; my lady must be told of it; she must, in faith, sir Paul; 'tis an injury to the world.

Sir Paul. Ah! would to Heaven you would, Mr Careless! you are mightily in her favour. Care. I warrant you; what! we must have a son some way or other.

Sir Paul. Indeed, I should be mightily bound to you, if you could bring it about, Mr Careless.

Lady Ply. Here, sir Paul, it is from your steward; here's a return of 600l. you may take fifty of it for the next half-year.

[Gives him the letter.

Enter LORD FROTH and CYNTHIA. Sir. Paul. How does my girl? Come hither to thy father, poor lamb; thou art melancholic.

Lord Froth. Heaven, sir Paul, you amaze me of all things in the world-You are never pleased but when we are all upon the broad grin; all laugh and no company; ah! then 'tis such a sight to see some teethsure you are a great admirer of my lady Whiffer, Mr Sneer, and sir Laurence Loud, and that gang.

Sir Paul. I vow and swear she is a very merry woman; but I think she laughs a little too much.

Lord Froth. Merry! O lord, what a character that is of a woman of quality-You have been at my lady Whifler's upon her day, madam?

Cyn. Yes, my lord—I must humour this fool. [Aside. Lord Froth. Well and how? hee! What is your sense of the conversation?

Cyn. O, most ridiculous, a perpetual concert of laughing without any harmony; for sure, my lord, to laugh out of time, is as disagreeable as to sing out of time, or out of tune.

Lord Froth. Hee, hee, hee! right; and then my lady Whitler is so ready-she always comes in three bars too soon- -And then, what do they laugh at? For you know laughing without a jest is as impertinent, hee! as

Cyn. As dancing without a fiddle. Lord Froth. Just, in faith! that was at my tongue's end.

Cyn. But that cannot be properly said of them; for I think they are all in good nature with the world, and only laugh at one another; and you must allow they have all jests in their persons, though they have none in their conversa

tion.

Lord Froth. True, as I am a person of honour For Heaven's sake let us sacrifice them to mirth a little.

Enter Boy, and whispers SIR PAUL. Sir Paul. Gad so-Wife, Wife! my lady Plyant! I have a word

Lady Ply. I am busy, sir Paul; I wonder at your impertinence

Care. Sir Paul, harkee! I am reasoning the matter you know: Madam, if your Ladyship please, we'll discourse of this in the next room. [Exeunt LADY PLYANT and CAReless. Sir Paul. O ho! I wish you good success; I wish you good success. Boy, tell my lady, when she has done, I would speak with her below. [Exit SIR PAUL.

Enter LADY FROTH and BRISK.

Lady Froth. Then, you think that episode between Susan the dairy-maid, and our coachman, is not amiss; you know, I may suppose the dairy in town, as well as in the country.

Brisk. Incomparable, let me perish! But then, being an heroic poem, had you not better call him a charioteer? Charioteer sounds great : besides, your ladyship's coachman having a red face, and you comparing him to the sunAnd you know the sun is called Heaven's chari

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