kind, and virtue to beat off their assaults. Oh, | noblest ball at the Bath, or had the finest coach Vizard! such a creature! in the ring ? I want news, gentlemen. Enter SIR HARRY WILDAIR, crosses the stage Viz. The joy of the play-house, and life of the park; Sir Harry Wildair, newly come from Paris. Stand. Sir Harry Wildair! Did not he make a campaign in Flanders some three or four years ago? ly. Viz. The same. Stand. Faith, sir, these are no news at all. Viz. But pray, sir Harry, tell us some news of your travels. Wild. With all my heart.-You must know, then, I went over to Amsterdam in a Dutch ship: I there had a Dutch whore for five stivers. I went from thence to Landen, where I was heartily drubbed in the battle with the butt-end of a Swiss musket. I thence went to Paris, where I had half a dozen intrigues, bought half a dozen new suits, fought a Stand. Why, he behaved himself very brave-couple of duels, and here I am again in statu quo. Viz. But we heard that you designed to make the tour of Italy; what brought you back so soon ? man. Viz. Why not? Dost think bravery and gaiety are inconsistent? He's a gentleman of most happy circumstances, born to a plentiful estate ; | has had a genteel and easy education, free from Wild. That which brought you into the world, the rigidness of teachers, and pedantry of and may perhaps carry you out of it; a woschools. His florid constitution, being never ruffled by misfortune, nor stinted in its pleasures, has rendered him entertaining to others, and easy to himself: turning all passion into gaiety of humour, by which he chooses rather to rejoice with his friends, than be hated by any, as you shall see. Re-enter WILDAIR. Wild. Ha, Vizard! Wild. Who thought to find you out of the Rubric so long; I thought thy hypocrisy had been wedded to a pulpit-cushion long ago. Sir, if I mistake not your face, your name is Standard? Stand. Sir Harry, I'm your humble servant. Wild. Come, gentlemen, the news, the news o' the town, for I'm just arrived. Viz. Why, in the city-end o' the town, we're playing the knave, to get estates. Stand. And in the court-end playing the fool, in spending them. Wild. Just so in Paris. I'm glad we're so modish. Viz. And hypocrisy for religion. Wild. A-la-inode de Paris again. grown Stand. What! quit the pleasures of travel for a woman ? Wild. Ay, colonel, for such a woman! I had rather see her ruelle than the palace of Lewis le Grand. There's more glory in her smile, than in the Jubilee at Rome; and I would rather kiss her hand, than the Pope's toe. Viz. You, colonel, have been very lavish in the beauty and virtue of your mistress; and sir Harry, here, has been no less eloquent in the praise of his. Now, will I lay you both ten guineas a piece, that neither of them is so pretty, so witty, or so virtuous, as mine. Stand. 'Tis done. Wild. I'll double the stakes-But, gentlemen, now I think on it, how shall we be resolved ?—— For I know not where my mistress may be found; she left Paris about a month before me, and I had an account Stand. How, sir ! left Paris about a month before you ? Wild. Yes, sir, and I had an account that she lodged somewhere in St James's. Viz. How! somewhere in St James, say you? Viz. Not one whore between Ludgate and perhaps mayn't find her this fortninght. Stund. But ten times more cuckolds than ever. Viz. Nothing like an oath in the city. Stand. That's a mistake; for my major swore a hundred and fifty last night to a merchant's wife in her bed-chamber, Wild. Pshaw! this is trifling; tell me news, gentlemen. What lord has lately broke his fortune at the Groom-Porter's ? or his heart at Newmarket, for the loss of a race? What wife has been lately suing in Doctor's-Commons for alimony; or what daughter run away with her father's valet? What beau gave the Stand. Her name, pray, sir Harry. her. Wild. Her name! Ay; she has the softest, whitest hand that e'er was made of flesh and blood; her lips so balmy sweet Stand. But her name, sir. Wild. Then her neck and breast; her breasts do so heave, so heave. [Singing. Viz. But her name, sir; her quality. Wild. Then her shape, colonel! Wild. Then her eyes, Vizard! Viz. Pshaw, sir Harry, her name, or nothing. Wild. Can'st tell where she lodges? Tell me, dear colonel. Stand. Your humble servant, sir. [Exit. Wild. Nay, hold, colonel; I'll follow you, and will know. [Runs out. Viz. The lady Lurewell his mistress! he loves her: but she loves me. But he's a baronet, and I plain Vizard; he has a coach and six, and I walk on foot; I was bred in London, and he in Paris. That very circumstance has murdered me——Then, some stratagem must be laid to divert his pretensions. Re-enter WILDAIR. | man? Viz. Find her! but then her foot, sir Harry; she dances to a miracle. Wild. Prithee, don't distract me. Viz. Well, then, you must know, that this lady is the greatest beauty in town; her name's Angelica: she that passes for her mother is a private bawd, and called the lady Darling; she goes for a baronet's lady, (no disparagement to your honour, sir Harry) I assure you. Wild. Pshaw, hang my honour; but what Wild. Prithee, Dick, what makes the colonel street, what house? so out of humour ? Viz. Because he's out of pay, I suppose. Wild. 'Slife, that's true; I was beginning to mistrust some rivalship in the case. Viz. And suppose there were; you know the colonel can fight, sir Harry. Wild. Fight! Pshaw-but he cannot dance, ha! We contend for a woman, Vizard. 'Slife, man, if ladies were to be gained by sword and pistol only, what the devil should all we beaus do? Viz. I'll try him farther. [Aside.] But would not you, sir Harry, fight for this woman you so much admire? Wild. Fight! Let me consider. I love herthat's true; but, then, I love honest sir Harry Wildair better. The lady Lurewell is divinely charming-right-but, then, a thrust i' the guts, or a Middlesex jury, is as ugly as the devil. Viz. Aye, sir Harry, 'twere a dangerous cast for a beau-baronet to be tried by a parcel of greasy, grumbling, bartering boobies, who would hang you, purely because you're a gentleman. Wild. Aye, but, on t'other hand, I have money enough to bribe the rogues with: so, upon mature deliberation, I would fight for her. But no more of her. Prithee, Vizard, cannot you recommend a friend to a pretty mistress by the bye, till I can find my own? You have store, I am sure; you cunning poaching dogs make surer game, than we that hunt open and fair. Prithee now, good Vizard. Viz. Let me consider a little. Now, love and revenge inspire my politics. [Aside. [Pauses, whilst SIR HARRY walks singing. Viz. Not so fast, sir Harry; you must have my passport for your admittance, and you'll find my recommendation in a line or two will procure you very civil entertainment; I suppose twenty or thirty pieces, handsomely placed, will gain the point: I'll ensure her sound. Wild. Thou dearest friend to a man in necessity! Here, sirrah, order my coach about to St James's; I'll walk across the park. [To his servant. Enter CLINCHER, senior. Clin. Here, sirrah, order my coach about to St James's; I'll walk across the Park, too-Mr Vizard, your most devoted-Sir, [To WILDAIR.]— I admire the mode of your shoulder-knot; methinks it hangs very emphatically, and carries an air of travel in it; your sword-knot, too, is most ornamentally modish, and bears a foreign mien. Gentlemen, my brother is just arrived in town; so that, being upon the wing to kiss his hands, I hope you will pardon this abrupt departure of, gentlemen, your most devoted, and most faithful humble servant. [Exit CLINCHER. Wild. Prithee, dost know him? Wild. What makes him so gay? Viz. Yes, for his father. The kind old man in Hertfordshire t'other day broke his neck a fox-hunting; the son upon the news has broke his indentures; whipped from behind the corner into the side-box, forswears merchandise, where he must live by cheating, and usurps gentility, where he may die by raking. He keeps his coach and liveries, brace of geldings, leash of mistresses, talks of nothing but wines, intrigues, plays, fashions, and going to the jubilee. Wild. Ha, ha, ha! how many pounds of pulvil must the fellow use in sweetening himself from the smell of hops and tobacco? Faugh-In my conscience, methought, like Olivia's lover, he stunk of Thames-street. But now for Angelica, that's her name: we'll to the prince's chocolatehouse, where you shall write my passport. Allons! [Exeunt. SCENE II.-LADY LUREWELL's lodgings. Lure. Parly, my pocket-book-let me seeMadrid, Paris, Venice, London! Aye, London! They may talk what they will of the hot countries, but I find love most fruitful under this climate-In a month's space have I gained-let me see-imprimis, colonel Standard. Par. And how will your ladyship manage him? Lure. As all soldiers should be managed; he shall serve me till I gain my ends; then I'll disband him. Par. But he loves you, madam. Lure. Therefore, I scorn him; I hate all that don't love me, and slight all that do; would his whole deluding sex admired me! Thus would I slight them all. My virgin and unwary innocence was wronged by faithless man; but now, glance eyes, plot brain, dissemble face, lie tongue, and be a second Eve to tempt, seduce, and plague the treacherous kind! Let me survey my captives: The colonel leads the van; next Mr Vizard; he courts me out of the practice of piety, therefore is a hypocrite; then Clincher; he adores me with orangerie, and is consequently a fool; then my old merchant, Alderman Smuggler; he's a compound of both; out of which medley of lovers, if I don't make good diversion-What dy'e think, Parly? Par. I think, madam, I'm like to be very virtuous in your service, if you teach me all those tricks that you use to your lovers. Lure. You're a fool, child; observe this, that though a woman swear, forswear, lie, dissemble, back-bite, be proud, vain, malicious, any thing, if she secures the main chance, she's still virtuous; that's a maxim. Par. I cannot be persuaded though, madam, but that you really loved sir Harry Wildair in Paris. Lure. O all the lovers I ever had, he was my greatest plage, for I could never make him uneasy: I left him involved in a duel upon my account: I long to know whether the fop be killed or not. Enter STANDARD. Oh lord! no sooner talk of killing, but the soldier is conjured up. You're upon hard duty, colonel, to serve your king, your country, and a mistress, too. Stand. The latter, I must confess, is the hardest; for, in war, madam, we can be relieved in our duty; but, in love, he who would take our post, is our enemy; emulation in glory is transporting, but rivals here intolerable. Lure. Those, that bear away the prize in the field, should boast the same success in the bedchamber; and, I think, considering the weakness of our sex, we should make those our companions who can be our champions. Stand. I once, madam, hoped the honour of defending you from all injuries, through a title to your lovely person; but now my love must attend my fortune. My commission, madam, was my passport to the fair; adding a nobleness to my passion, it stampt a value on my love: 'twas once the life of honour, but now its windingsheet, and with it must my love be buried, Par. What! disbanded, colonel? Stand. Yes, Mrs Parly. Par. Faugh, the nauseous fellow! he smells of poverty already. [Aside. [Aside. Lure. His misfortune troubles me, because it may prevent my designs. Stand. I'll choose, madam, rather to destroy my passion by absence abroad, than have it starved at home. Lure. I'm sorry, sir, you have so mean an opinion of my affection, as to imagine it founded upon your fortune. And, to convince you of your mistake, here I vow, by all that's sacred, I own the same affection now as before. Let it suffice; my fortune is considerable. Stand. No, madam, no; I'll never be a charge to her I love! The man, that sells himself for gold, is the worst of prostitutes! Lure. Now, were he any other creature but a man, I could love him. [Aside. Stand. This only last request I make, that no title recommend a fool, no office introduce a knave, nor coat a coward, to my place in your affections; so, farewell my country, and adieu love! [Exit. Lure. Now the devil take thee for being so honourable! here, Parly, call him back; I shall lose half my diversion else. Now for a trial of skill! my Re-enter STANDARD. Sir, I hope you'll pardon my curiosity. When do you take your journey? Stand. To-morrow morning, early, madam. Lure. So suddenly! which way are you designed to travel? Stand. That I can't yet resolve on. Lure. Pray, sir, tell me; pray, sir, I entreat you; why are you so obstinate? me. Stand. Why are you so curious, madam? Lure. Because Stand. What? Lure. Because I, I Stand. Because! What, madam?-Pray tell Lure. Because I design to follow you. [Crying. Stand. Follow me! By all that's great, I ne'er was proud before. But such love, from such a creature, might swell the vanity of the proudest prince. Follow me! By Heavens thou shalt not! What! expose thee to the hazards of a camp-Rather I'll stay, and here bear the contempt of fools, and worst of fortune. Lure. You need not, shall not; my estate for both is sufficient. Stand. Thy estate! No, I'll turn a knave, and purchase one myself; I'll cringe to the proud man I undermine, and fawn on him that I would bite to death; I'll tip my tongue with flattery, and smooth my face with smiles; I'll turn pimp, informer, office-broker, nay, coward, to be great; and sacrifice it all to thee, my generous fair! Lure. And I'll dissemble, lie, swear, jilt, any thing, but I'll reward thy love, and recompense thy noble passion. Stand. Sir Harry, ha, ha, ha! poor sir Harry, ha, ha, ha! Rather kiss her hand, than the Pope's toe, ha, ha, ha! Lure. What sir Harry, colonel? What sir Harry? Stand. Sir Harry Wildair, madam. Lure. What! is he come over? has so persecuted me with letters, songs, dances, serenading, flattery, foppery, and noise, that I was forced to fly the kingdom-And I warrant you he made you jealous. Stand. Faith, madam, I was a little uneasy. Lure You shall have a plentiful revenge. I'll send him back all his foolish letters, songs, and verses, and you yourself shall carry them: 'twill afford you opportunity of triumphing, and free me from his further impertinence; for, of all men, he's my aversion. I'll run and fetch them instantly. [Erit. Stand. Dear madam, a rare project! Now shall I bait him, like Acteon, with his own dogs -Well, Mrs Parly, it is ordered, by act of parliament, that you receive no more pieces, Mrs Parly. Pur. 'Tis provided by the same act, that you send no more messages by me, good colonel; you must not presume to send any more letters, unless you can pay the postage. Stand. Come, come, don't be mercenary; take example by your lady; be honourable. Par. A-lack-a-day, sir, it shews as ridiculous and haughty for us to imitate our betters in their honour, as in their finery; leave honour to nobility, that can support it: we poor folks, colonel, have no pretence to't; and truly, I think, sir, that your honour should be cashiered with your leading-staff. Stand. 'Tis one of the greatest curses of po verty, to be the jest of chambermaids. Enter LUREWELL. Lure. Here's the packet, colonel; the whole magazine of love's artillery. [Giving him the packet. Stand. Which, since I have gained, I will turn upon the enemy. Madam, I'll bring you Stand. Ay, and he told me-but I don't be the news of my victory this evening. Poor sir lieve a syllable on't. Lure. What did he tell you? Stand. Only called you his mistress, and, pretending to be extravagant in your commendation, would vainly insinuate the praise of his own judgment and good fortune in a choice. Lure. How easily is the vanity of fops tickled by our sex! Stand. Why, your sex is the vanity of fops. Lure. On my conscience, I believe so. This gentleman, because he danced well, I pitched on for a partner at a ball in Paris, and, ever since, he Harrry! ha, ha, ha! [Exit. Lure. To the right about as you were; march, colonel. Ha, ha, ha! Vain man, who boasts of studied parts and wiles! Nature in us your deepest art beguiles, Stamping deep cunning in our frowns and smiles. ACT II. SCENE I-CLINCHER junior's lodgings. Enter CLINCHER, opening a letter; servant following. Clin. [Reads.] DEAR brother, I will see you presently: I have sent this lad to wait on you; he can instruct you in the fashions of the town. I am your affectionate brother, CLINCHER.' Very well; and what's your name, sir? Dick. My name is Dicky, sir. Clin. Dicky! Dick. Ay, Dicky, sir. Clin. Very well; a pretty name! And what can you do, Mr Dicky? Dick. Why, sir, I can powder a wig, and pick up a whore. Clin. Oh, lord! Oh, lord! a whore! Why, are there many whores in this town? Dick. Ha, ha, ha! many whores! there's a question, indeed! Why, sir, there are above five hundred surgeons in town-Hark'e, sir: do you see that woman there, in the velvet scarf, and red knots ? Clin. Ay, sir; what then? Dick. Why, she shall be at your service in three minutes, as I'm a pimp. Clin. Oh, Jupiter Ammon! Why, she's a gentlewoman. Dick. A gentlewoman! Why, so are all the whores in town, sir. Enter CLINCHER senior. Clin. sen. Brother, you're welcome to London. Clin. jun. I thought, brother, you owed so much to the memory of my father, as to wear mourning for his death. Clin. sen. Why, so I do, fool; I wear this, because I have the estate, and you wear that, because you have not the estate. You have cause to mourn indeed, brother. Well, brother, I'm glad to see you; fare you well. [Going. Clin. jun. Stay, stay, brother—Where are you going? Clin. sen. How natural 'tis for a country booby to ask impertinent questions!-Hark'e, sir; is not my father dead? Clin. jun. Ay, ay, to my sorrow. pageants, and squibs, and raree-shows, and all that, sir. Clin. jun. And must you go so soon, brother? Clin. sen. Yes, sir, for I must stay a month at Amsterdam, to study poetry. Clin. jun. Then I suppose, brother, you travel through Muscovy, to learn fashions; don't you, brother? Clin. sen. Brother! Prithee, Robin, don't call me brother; sir will do every jot as well. Clin. jun. Oh, Jupiter Ammon! why so? Clin. sen. Because people will imagine you have a spite at me-But have you seen your cousin Angelica yet, and her mother, the lady Darling? Clin. jun. No; my dancing-master has not been with me yet. How shall I salute them, brother? Clin. sen. Pshaw! that's easy; 'tis only two scrapes, a kiss, and your humble servant. I'll tell you more when I come from the Jubilee. Come along. [Exeunt. SCENE II.-LADY DARLING's house. Enter WILDAIR with a letter. Wild. Like light and heat, incorporate we lay; We blessed the night, and cursed the coming day. Well, if this paper-kite flies sure, I'm secure of my game-Humph!-the prettiest bourdel I have seen; a very stately genteel one Footmen cross the stage. Hey-day! equipage, too! Now for a bawd by the curtesy, and a whore with a coat of arms'Sdeath, I'm afraid I've mistaken the house! Enter LADY DARLING. No, this must be the bawd, by her bulk. Lady Dar. Then, sir, you have no business here. Wild. This letter, madam, will inform you farther. Mr Vizard sent it, with his humble service to your ladyship. Lady Dar. How does my cousin, sir? Wild. Aye, her cousin, too! that's right pro Eng-curess again, Clin. sen. No matter for that, he's dead; and am not I a young, powdered, extravagant Jish heir? Clin. jun. Very right, sir. Clin. sen. Why, then, sir, you may be sure that I am going to the Jubilee, sir. Clin. jun. Jubilee! What's that? Clin. sen. Jubilee! Why, the Jubilee isFaith, I don't know what it is. Dick. Why, the Jubilee is the same thing as our lord Mayor's day in the city; there will be VOL. II. [Aside. Lady Dar. [Reads.]— Madam-earnest in'clination to serve-sir Harry-madan-court my cousin-gentleman-fortune Your ladyship's most humble servant, VIZARD.' Sir, your fortune and quality are sufficient to recommend you any where; but what goes farther with me, is the recommendation of so sober and pious a young gentleman as my cousin Vizard. 2 $ |