Scand. We are all under a mistake. Ask no questions, for I can't resolve you; but I'll inform your master. In the mean time, if our project succeed no better with his father than it does with his mistress, he may descend from his exaltation of madness into the road of common sense, and be content only to be made a fool with other reasonable people. I hear sir Sampson. You know your cue? I'll to your master. [Eait.

Enter SIR SAMPSON and BUCKRAM. Sir Sam. D'ye see, Mr Buckram, here's the paper signed with his own hand.

Buck. Good, sir. And the conveyance is ready drawn in this box, if he be ready to sign and seal.

Sir Sam. Ready! body o'me, he must be ready his sham sickness sha'nt excuse him--O, here's his scoundrel. Sirrah, where's your master?

Jer. Ah, sir, he's quite gone!

Sir Sam. Gone! what, he's not dead?
Jer. No, sir, not dead.

Sir Sam. What, is he gone out of town? run away? ha! has he tricked me? Speak, varlet.

Jer. No, no, sir, he's safe enough, sir, an he were but as sound, poor gentleman! He is indeed here, sir, and not here, sir.

Sir Sam. Hey-day, rascal, do you banter me? sirrah, d'ye banter me?-Speak, sirrah; where is he? for I will find him.

Jer. Would you could, sir; for he has lost himself. Indeed, sir, I have almost broke my heart about him---I can't refrain tears when I think on him, sir: I'm as melancholy for him as a passing-bell, sir; or a horse in a pond.

Sir Sam. A pox confound your similitudes, sir: -Speak to be understood: and tell me in plain terms what is the matter with him, or I'll crack your fool's skull.

Jer. Ah, you've hit it, sir; that's the matter with him, sir; his skull's cracked, poor gentleman! he's stark mad, sir.

Sir Sam. Mad!

Buck. What, is he non compos?
Jer. Quite non compos, sir.

Buck. Why, then, all's obliterated, sir Sampson. If he be non compos mentis, his act and deed will be of no effect; it is not good in law.

Sir Sam. Oons, I won't believe it; let me see him, sir. Mad! I'll make him find his senses. Jer. Mr Scandal is with him, sir; I'll knock at the door.

Sir Sam. Gads bobs, does he not know? Is he mischievous? I'll speak gently. Val, Val, dost thou not know me, boy? not know thy own father, Val? I am thy own father; and this, honest Brief Buckram, the lawyer.

Val. It may be so-I did not know you----the world is full. There are people that we do know, and people that we do not know, and yet the sun shines upon all alike. There are fathers that have many children; and there are children that have many fathers-----'tis strange! But I am Honesty, and come to give the world the lie.

Sir Sam. Body o'me, I know not what to say to him!

Val. Why does that lawyer wear black? does he carry his conscience without-side? Lawwhat art thou? dost thou know me?

ver,

Buck. O Lord! what must I say?----Yes, sir. Val. Thou liest; for I am Honesty. Tis hard I cannot get a livelihood amongst you. I have been sworn out of Westminster-Hall the first day of every term-Let me see---no matter how long ---But I'll tell you one thing; it is a question that would puzzle an arithmetician, if I should ask him, whether the bible saves more souls in Westminster-Abbey, or damns more in Westster-Hall?--For my part, I am Honesty, and can't tell; I have very few acquaintance.

Sir Sam. Body o'me, he talks sensibly in his madness-Has he no intervals?

Jer. Very short, sir.

Val. Sir, 'tis my duty to wait.

Sir Sam. How now? what's here to do?

[Starting.

Val. Ha! who's that? Scand. For Heaven's sake, softly, sir, and gently don't provoke him.

Val. Answer me, who's that? and that?

Scand. Miracle! The monster grows loving.

[Aside.

Jeremy, step and overtake Mr Buckram; bid him make haste back with the conveyance-quick! [Eeit JEREMY. Scand That ever I should suspect such a heathen of any remorse! [Aside. Sir Sam. Dost thou know this paper, Val? I know thon'rt honest, and wilt perform articles. [Shews him the paper, but holds it out of his reach.]

Val. Pray let me see it, sir; you hold it so far off, that I can't tell whether I know it or no.

Sir Sam. See it, boy? Ay, ay, why thou dost see it 'tis thy own hand, Vally. Why, let me see, I can read it as plain as can be: look you here- Reads.] The condition of this obligation'--Look you, as plain as can be, so it begins

And then at the bottom- As witness my hand, VALENTINE LEGEND,' in great lettersWhy, 'tis as plain as the nose on one's face. What, are my eyes better than thine? I believe I can read it farther off vet-let me see

[Stretches his arm as far as he can. Val. Will you please to let me hold it, sir? Sir Sam. Let thee hold it, say'st thou?-Ay, with all my heart-What matter is it who holds it? What need any body hold it?-I'll put it in my pocket, Val, and then nobody need hold it[Puts the paper in his pocket.] There, Val: its safe enough, boy. But thou shalt have it as soon as thou hast set thy hand to another paper, little Val.

Enter JEREMY and BUCKRAM.

Val. What, is my bad genius here again? Oh no, 'tis the lawyer, with an itching palm; and he's come to be scratched. My nails are not long enough. Let me have a pair of red hot tongs quickly, quickly; and you shall see me act St Dunstan, and lead the devil by the nose.

Buck. O Lord, let me be gone! I'll not venture myself with a madinan. [Runs out. Val. Ha, ha, ha! you need not run so fast. Honesty will not overtake you. Ha, ha, ha! the rogue found me out to be in forma pauperis presently.

Sir Sam. Oons! what a vexation is here! I know not what to do or say, or which way to go. Val. Who's that, that's out of his way? I am Honesty, and can set him right. Hark'ee, friend, the strait road is the worst way you can go. He that follows his nose always, will very often be led into a stink. Probatum est. But what are you for? religion or politics? There's a couple of topics for you, no more like one another than oil and vinegar; and yet these two, beaten together by a state cook, make sauce for the whole nation.

Sir Sam. What the devil had I to do, ever to beget sons? why did I ever marry?

Val. Because thou wert a monster, old boy. The two greatest monsters in the world, are a man and a woman, What's thy opinion?

Sir Sam. Why, my opinion is, that these two monsters, joined together, make yet a greater; that's a man and his wife.

Val. Aha, old Truepenny! sayest thou so? Thou hast nicked it. But it is wonderful strange, Jeremy.

Jer. What is it, sir?

Val. That grey hairs should cover a green head--and I make a fool of my father. What's here? Erra Pater, or a bearded sibyl? If prophecy comes, Honesty must give place.

[Exeunt VALENTINE and JEREMY.

Enter FORESIGHT, MRS FORESIGHT, and
MRS FRAIL.

Fore. What says he? What did he prophesy? Ha, Sir Sampson! Bless us! how are we?

Sir Sam. Are we? A pox on your prognostications! Why, we are fools as we used to be. Oons, that you could not foresee that the moon would predominate, and my son be mad! Where's your oppositions, your trines, and your quadrates? Ah! pox on't, that I, who know the world, and men and manners, who don't believe a syllable in the sky and stars, and sun and almanacks, and trash, should be directed by a dreamer, an omen-hunter, and defer business in expectation of a lucky hour! when, body o'me! there never was a lucky hour after the first opportunity. Exit.

Fore. Ah, sir Sampson, Heaven help your head! This is none of your lucky hours- Nemo omnibus horis supit !What, is he gone, and in contempt of science? I stars, and uncon→ vertible ignorance attend him!

Scand. You must excuse his passion, Mr Foresight; for he has been heartily vexed. His son is non compos mentis, and thereby incapable of making any conveyance in law; 30 that all his measures are disappointed.

Fore. Ha! say you so? Mrs Frail. What, has my sea-lover lost his anchor of hope, then?

[Aside to MRS FORESIGHT. Mrs Fore. O sister, what will you do with

him?

Mrs Frail. Do with him? Send him to sea again in the next foul weather. He's used to an inconstant element, and won't be surprised to see the tide turned.

Fore. Wherein was I mistaken, not to foresee this? [Considers. Scand. Madam, you and I can tell him something else, that he did not foresce, and more particularly relating to his own fortune. [Aside to MRS FORESIGHT.] You look pretty well, Mr Foresight. How did you rest last night?

Fore. Truly, Mr Scandal, I was so taken up with broken dreams, and distracted visions, that I remember little.

Scand. But would you not talk with Valentine? Perhaps you may understand him; I am apt to

believe, there is something mysterious in his discourse, and sometimes rather think him inspired than mad.

have I set my heart upon! O, I am happy to have discovered the shelves and quicksands, that lurk beneath that smiling faithless face?

Ben. Hey-toss! what's the matter now? why,

Mrs Frail. O see me no more-for thou wert born among rocks, suckled by whales, cradled in a tempest, and whistled to by winds; and thou art come forth with fins and scales, and three rows of teeth, a most outrageous fish of prey.

comes !

Enter BEN.

Ben. All mad, I think. Flesh, I believe all the calentures of the sea are come ashore, for my part.

Mrs Frail. Mr Benjamin in choler!

Ben. No, I'm pleased well enough, now I have found you. Mess, I have had such a hurricane on your account yonder!

Mrs Frail. My account? Pray, what's the matter?

Ben. Why, father came, and found me squabbling with yon chitty-faced thing, as he would have me marry-so he asked, what was the matter. He asked in a surly sort of a way. It seems brother Val is gone mad, and so that put'n into a passion; but what did I know that? what's that to me? So he asked in a surly sort of mannerand, Gad, I answered 'en as surlily. What, thof he be my father, I an't bound prentice to 'en: so, faith, I told'n, in plain terms, if I were minded to marry, I'd marry to please myself, not him; and, for the young woman that he provided for me, I thought it more fitting for her to learn her sampler, and make dirt-pies, than to look after a husband; for my part, I was none of her manI had another voyage to make, let him take it as he will.

Mrs Frail. So, then, you intend to go to sea again?

Ben. Nay, nay, my mind ran upon you-but I would not tell him so much. So he said, he'd make my heart ache; and if so be, that he could get a woman to his mind, he'd marry himself. Gad, says I, an you play the fool, and marry at these years, there's more danger of your head's | aching than my heart! He was woundy angry, when I giv'n that wipe-he hadn't a word to say; and so I left'n, and the green girl together; mayhap the bee may bite, and he'll marry her himself-with all my heart!

Mrs Frail. And were you this undutiful and graceless wretch to your father?

Ben. Then, why was he graceless first? If I am undutiful and graceless, why did he beget me so? I did not beget myself.

Ben. O Lord! O Lord! she's mad, poor young woman! Love has turned her senses; her brain is quite overset. Well-a-day! how shall I do to set her to rights?

Mrs Frail. No, no, I am not mad, monster! I am wise enough to find you out. Hadst thou the impudence to aspire at being a husband, with that stubborn and disobedient temper? You, that know not how to submit to a father, presume to have a sufficient stock of duty to undergo a wife? I should have been finely fobbed, indeed! very finely fobbed!

Ben. Harkee, forsooth; if so be, that you are in your right senses, d've see, for aught as I perceive, I'm like to be finely fobbed-if I have got anger here upon your account, and you are tacked about already! What d'ye mean, after all your fair speeches, and stroking my cheeks, and kissing and hugging, what, would you sheer off so? would you, and leave me aground?

Mrs Frail. No, I'll leave you adrift, and go which way you will.

Ben. What, are you false-hearted, then? Mrs Frail. Only the wind's changed. Ben. More shame for you!The wind's changed? It is an ill wind blows nobody good. Mayhap I have a good riddance on you, if these be your tricks. What, did you mean all this while to make a fool of me?

Mrs Frail. Any fool, but a husband.

Ben. Husband! Gad, I would not be your husband, if you would have me, now I know your mind; thof you had your weight in gold and jewels, and thof I loved you never so well.

names.

Mrs Frail. Why, canst thou love, porpus? Ben. No matter what I can do; don't call I don't love you so well as to bear that, whatever I did. I'm glad you shew yourself, mistress let them marry you as don't know you. Gad, I know you too well, by sad experience; I believe he that marries you will go to sea in a hen-pecked frigate. I believe that, young woman! and mayhap may come to an anchor at Cuckold's Point; so there's a dash for you, take it as you will; mayhap you may hollow after me, when I won't come to. Exit.

Mrs Frail. Most tyrannically. But I'll tell you a hint that he has given me. Sir Sampson is enraged, and talks desperately of committing matrimony himself. If he has a mind to throw himself away, he can't do it more effectually than upon me, if we could bring it about.

Mrs Fore. O hang him, old fox! he's too cunning; besides, he hates both you and me. But I have a project in my head for you, and I have gone a good way towards it. I have almost made a bargain with Jeremy, Valentine's man, to sell his master to us.

Mrs Frail. Sell him? how?

Fore. I am married.

Val. Poor creature! Is your wife of Coventgarden parish?

Fore. No: St Martin in the Fields.

Val. Alas, poor man! his eyes are sunk, and his hands shrivelled; his legs dwindled, and his back bowed. Pray, pray for a metamorphosisChange thy shape, and shake off age; get thee Medea's kettle, and be boiled anew; come forth, with labouring, callous hands, a chine of steel, and Atlas' shoulders. Let Taliacotius trim the calves of twenty chairmen, and make thee pedestals to stand erect upon; and look matrimony in the face. Ha, ha, ha! that a man should have a stomach to a wedding supper, when the pigeons ought rather to be laid to his feet! ha, ha,

Enter VALENTINE, SCANDAL, FORESIGHT, and JEREMY,

Scand. And have you given your master a hint of their plot upon him? [TO JEREMY.

Jer. Yes, sir; he says he'll favour it, and mistake her for Angelica.

Scand. It may make us sport.
Fore. Mercy on us!

Val. Husht-interrupt me not-I'll whisper prediction to thee, and thou shalt prophesy. I am Honesty, and can teach thy tongue a new trick. I have told thee what's past-Now, I'll tell what's to come! Dost thou know what will happen to-morrow? Answer me not; for I will tell thee. To-morrow, knaves will thrive through craft, and fools through fortune; and Honesty will go, as it did, frost-nipt in a summer-suit. Ask me questions concerning to-morrow. Scand. Ask him, Mr Foresight. Fore. Pray, what will be done at court?

Fore. His frenzy is very high, now, Mr Scandal. Scand. I believe it is a spring tide. Fore. Very likely truly; you understand these Mr Scandal, I shall be very glad to confer with you, about these things, which he has uttered. His sayings are very mysterious and hieroglyphical.

matters.

Val. Oh, why would Angelica be absent from my eyes so long?

Jer. She's here, sir.

Mrs Fore. Now, sister.

Mrs Frail. O Lord, what must I say?

Scand. Humour him, madam, by all means. Val. Where is she? Oh, I see her! She comes like riches, health, and liberty, at once, to a des pairing, starving, and abandoned wretch. O wel come, welcome!

Mrs Frail. How d'ye, sir? can I serve you? Val. Harkee— I have a secret to tell you-Endymion and the moon shall meet us upon Mount Patmos, and we'll be married in the dead of night. But say not a word. Hymen shall put his torch into a dark lantern, that if may be secret; and Juno shall give her peacock

Fore. In the city?

Val. Oh, prayers will be said in empty churches, at the usual hours. Yet you will see such zealous faces behind counters, as if religion were to be sold in every shop. Oh! things will go methodically in the city. The clocks will strike twelve at noon, and the horned herd buz in the Exchange at two. Husbands and wives will drive distinct trades; and care and pleasure separately occupy the family. Coffee-houses will be full of smoke and stratagem. And the cropt 'prentice that sweeps his master's shop in the VOL. II.

and Argus's hundred eyes be shut, ha? Nobody shall know but Jeremy.

Mrs Frail. No, no, we'll keep it secret; it shall be done presently.

Val. The sooner the better-Jeremy, come hither- -closer-that none may overhear us.~~ Jeremy, I can tell you news. Angelica is turned nun, and I am turned friar: and yet we'll marry one another in spite of the pope. Get me a cowl and beads, that I may play my part-for she'll meet me two hours heuce in black and white, and a long veil to cover the project; and we won't see one another's faces, till we have

2 Q

done something to be ashamed of-and then we'll blush once for all.

Enter TATTLE and ANGELICA.

Jer. I'll take care, and

Val. Whisper.

Ang. Nay, Mr Tattle, if you make love to me, you spoil my design; for I intend to make you my confident.

Scand. How's this! Tattle making love to Angelica!

Tatt. But, madam, to throw away your person-such a person! and such a fortune, ou a madman!

Ang. I never loved him till he was mad; but, don't tell any body so.

Tatt. Tell, madam? alas, you don't know me. I have much ado to tell your ladyship how long I have been in love with you-but, encouraged by the impossibility of Valentine's making any more addresses to you, I have ventured to declare the very inmost passion of my heart. Oh, madam, look upon us both. There, you see the ruins of a poor decayed creature! Here, a complete lively figure, with youth and health, and all his five senses in perfection, madam; and to all this, the most passionate lover

Ang. O, fie for shame! hold your tongue. A passionate lover, and five senses in perfection! When you are as mad as Valentine, I'll believe you love me; and the maddest shall take me.

Val. It is enough. Ha! who's there; Mrs Fruil. O Lord, her coming will spoil all. [To JEREMY. Jer. No, no, madam; he won't know her; if he should, I can persuade him.

Val. Scandal, who are these? Foreigners? If they are, I'll tell you what I think. Get away all the company but Angelica, that I may discover my design to her. [Whispers. Scand. I will. I have discovered something of Tattle, that is of a piece with Mrs Frail. He courts Angelica; if we could contrive to couple them together- Harkee[Whispers. Mrs Fore. He won't know you, cousin; he knows nobody.

Fore. But he knows more than any body.Oh, niece, he knows things past, and things to come, and all the profound secrets of time.

Tatt. Look you, Mr Foresight; it is not my way to make many words of matters, and so I shan't say much. But, in short, d'ye see, I will hold you a hundred pounds now, that I know more secrets than he.

Fore. How? I cannot read that knowledge in your face, Mr Tattle. Pray, what do you know?

Tatt. Why, d'ye think I'll tell you, sir? Read it in my face! No, sir, it is written in my heart; and safer there, sir, than letters written in juice of lemon, for no fire can fetch it out. I am no blab, sir.

Val. Acquaint Jeremy with it; he may easily bring it about. They are welcome, and I'll tell them so myself. [To SCANDAL.] What, do you look strange upon me! Then I must be plain.[Coming up to them.] I am Honesty, and hate an old acquaintance with a new face.

[SCANDAL goes aside with JEREMY. Tatt. Do you know me, Valentine? Val. You! who are you? I hope not. Tatt. I am Jack Tattle, your friend. Val. My friend! What to do? I'm no married man, and thou canst not lie with my wife. I am very poor, and thou canst not borrow money Then what employment have I for a

of me. friend?

Tatt. Ha! a good open speaker, and not to be trusted with a secret.

Ang. Do you know Val. Oh, very well. Ang. Who am I?

me, Valentine?

Val. You're a woman-one, to whom Heaven gave beauty, when it grafted roses on a briar.— You are the reflection of heaven in a pond; and he, that leaps at you, is sunk. You are all white, a sheet of lovely spotless paper, when you were first born; but you are to be scrawled and blotted by every goose's quill. I know you; for I loved a woman, and loved her so long, that I found out a strange thing; I found out what a woman was good for.

Tatt. Ay, prithee, what's that?
Val. Why, to keep a secret.
Tatt. O Lord!

Val. O, exceeding good to keep a secret; for, though she should tell, yet she is not believed. Tutt. Ha! good again, faith.

Jer. [JEREMY and SCANDAL whisper.] I'll do it, sir.

Scand. Mr Foresight, we had best leave him. He may grow outrageous, and do mischief. Fore. I will be directed by you.

Jer. [To Mrs FRAIL.] You'll meet, madam.— I'll take care every thing shall be ready. Mrs Frail. Thou shalt do what thou wilt; in short, I will deny thee nothing.

Tatt. Madam, shall I wait upon you?

[TO ANGELICA. Ang. No, I'll stay with him. Mr Scandal will protect me. Aunt, Mr Tattle desires you would give him leave to wait upon you.

Tatt. Pox on't, there's no coming off, now she has said that-Madam, will you do me the honour?

Mrs Fore. Mr Tattle might have used less