Wild. A right sanctified bawd, o' my word! [Aside. Lady Dar. Sir Harry, your conversation with Mr Vizard argues you a gentleman, free from the loose and vicious carriage of the town. I shall, therefore, call my daughter. [Exit LADY DARLING. Wild. Now, go thy way, for an illustrious bawd of Babylon-she dresses up a sin so religiously, that the devil would hardly know it of his making. [Re-enter LADY DARLING with ANGELICA, Lady Dar. Pray, daughter, use him civilly; such matches don't offer every day. [Exit LADY DARLING. Wild. Oh, all ye powers of love! an angel! 'Sdeath, what money have I got in my pocket? I cannot offer her less than twenty guineas—and, by Jupiter, she's worth a hundred. Ang. Tis he! the very saine! and his person as agreeable as his character of good humourPray Heaven his silence proceed from respect! Wild. How innocent she looks! How would that modesty adorn virtue, when it makes even vice look so charming! by Heaven, there's such a commanding innocence in her looks, that I dare not ask the question! Ang. Now, all the charms of real love, and feigned indifference, assist me to engage his heart; for mine is lost already! Wild. Madam-I, I-Zoons, I cannot speak to her! but she's a whore, and I will-madam, in short, I, I—oh, hypocrisy, hypocrisy, what a charming sin art thou! Ang. He is caught; now to secure my conquest I thought, sir, you had business to communicate. Enter CLINCHER Jun. and DICKY. What the devil's here? another cousin, I warrant ye! Harkee, sir, can you lend me ten or a dozen guineas instantly? I'll pay you fifteen for them in three hours, upon my honour. Clin. jun. These London sparks are plaguy impudent! This fellow, by his wig and assurance, can be no less than a courtier. ing. Dick. He's rather a courtier by his borrow Clin. jun. Faith, sir, I han't above five guineas about me Wild. What business have you here, then, sir? For, to my knowledge, twenty won't be sufficient. Clin. jun. Sufficient! for what, sir? Wild. What, sir! why, for that, sir; what the devil should it be, sir? I know your business, notwithstanding all your gravity, sir. Clin. jun. My business! why, my cousin lives here. Wild. I know your cousin does live here, and Vizard's cousin, and every body's cousin—harkee, sir, I shall return immediately; and if you offer to touch her, till I come back, I shall cut your throat, rascal. [Exit WILDAIR. Clin. jun. Why, the man's mad, sure! Dick. Mad, sir! aye—why, he's a beau. Clin. jun. A beau! what's that? are all madmen beaux? Dick. No, sir; but most beaux are madmen. But now for your cousin. Remember, your three scrapes, a kiss, and your humble servant. Wild. Business to communicate! how nicely she words it! Yes, madam, I have a little business to communicate. Don't you love singing-in birds, madam? Ang. That's an odd question for a lover— yes, sir. Wild. Why, then, madam, here is a nest of the prettiest goldfinches that ever chirped in a cage; twenty young ones, I assure you, madam. Ang. Twenty young ones! what then, sir? Wild. Why, then, madam, there are twen ty young ones- 'Slife, I think twenty is pretty fair. Ang. He's mad, sure! sir Harry, when you have learned more wit and manners, you shall be welcome here again. [Exit ANGELICA. Wild. Wit and manners! 'Egad, now, I conceive there is a great deal of wit and manners in twenty guincas-I'm sure 'tis all the wit and manners I have about me at present. What shall I do? [Exeunt, as into the house, Enter WILDAIR, STANDARD following. Stand. Sir Harry, sir Harry! Wild. I am in haste, colonel; besides, if you're no better humour than when I parted with you in the park this morning, your company won't be very agreeable. Stand. You're a happy man, sir Harry, who are never out of humour. Can nothing move your gall, sir Harry? Wild. Nothing but impossibilities, which are the same as nothing. Stand. What impossibilities? Wild. The resurrection of my father to disinherit me, or an act of parliament against wenching. A man of eight thousand pounds per annum to be vexed! No, no; anger and spleen are companions for younger brothers. Stand. Suppose one called you a son of a whore behind your back. Wild. Why, then would I call him rascal behind his back; so we're even. Stand. But suppose you had lost a mistress. Wild. Why, then I would get another. Stand. But suppose you were discarded by the woman you love? that would surely trouble you. Wild. You're mistaken, colonel; my love is neither romantically honourable, nor meanly mercenary; 'tis only a pitch of gratitude; while she loves me, I love her; when she desists, the obligation's void. Stand. Then they must be grounded in your nature: for she's a rib of you, sir Harry. Wild. Here's a copy of verses, too: I must turn poet, in the devil's name-stay-'sdeath, what's here? This is her hand-oh, the charming characters!- Reading.] My dear Wildair,'that's I, 'egad!- this huff-bluff colonel'-that's Stand. But to be mistaken in your opinion, sir; he is the rarest fool in nature,'—the devil he if the lady Lurewell (only suppose it) had dis-is-and as such have I used him.'-With all carded you-I say, only suppose it-and had sent your discharge by me. Wild. Pshaw! that's another impossibility. Wild. Why, 'twere a solecism in nature. Why she's a rib of me, sir. She dances with me, sings with me, plays with me, swears with me, lies with me. Stand. How, sir? Wild. I mean in an honourable way; that is, she lies for me. In short, we are as like one another as a couple of guineas. Stand. Now that I have raised you to the highest pinnacle of vanity, will I give you so mortifying a fall, as shall dash your hopes to pieces. I pray your honour to peruse these papers. [Gives him the packet. Wild. What is't, the muster-roll of your regiment, colonel? Stand. No, no; 'tis a list of your forces in your last love compaign; and, for your comfort, all disbanded. Wild. Prithee, good metaphorical colonel, what d'ye mean? my heart, faith- I had no better way of letting you know, that I lodge in St James's, near the Holy Lamb. Lurewell.'-Colonel, I am your most humble servant. Stand. Hold, sir, you sha'nt go yet; I ha'nt delivered half my message. Wild. Upon my faith but you have, colonel. Stand. Well, well, own your spleen; out with it; I know you're like to burst. Wild. I am so, 'egad; ha, ha, ha! [Laugh and point at one another. Stand. Aye, with all my heart, ha, ha, ha! well, well, that's forced, sir Harry. Wild. I was never better pleased in all my life, by Jupiter! Stand. Well, sir Harry, 'tis prudence to hide your concern, when there's no help for it. But, to be serious, now; the lady has sent you back all your papers there—I was so just as not to look upon them. Wild. I'm glad on't, sir; for there were some things that I would not have you see. Stand. All this she has done for my sake, and I desire you would decline any further preten Stand. Read, sir, read; these are the Sibyl'ssions for your own sake. So, honest, good-naleaves that will unfold your destiny. tured sir Harry, I'm your humble servant. Wild. So it be not a false deed to cheat me of my estate, what care I-[Opening the packet.]— Humph! my hand! To the lady Lurewell-To the lady Lurewell-To the lady Lurewell-what the devil hast thou been tampering with, to conjure up these spirits? Stand. A certain familiar of your acquaintance, sir. Read, read. Wild. [Reading.]— Madam, my passion-so 'natural- -your beauty contending-force of 'charms-mankind-eternal admirer, Wildair.'— I ne'er was ashamed of my name before. Stand. What, sir Harry Wildair out of humour! ha, ha, ha! poor sir Harry! more glory in her smile, than in the jubilee at Rome; ha, ha, ha! but then her foot, sir Harry; she dances to a miracle! ha, ha, ha! fie, sir Harry, a man of your parts write letters not worth keeping! what say'st thou, my dear knight-errant? ha, ha, ha! you may seek adventures now, indeed. Wild. [Sings.]-No, no, let her wander, &c. Stand. You are jilted to some tune, sir; blown up with false music, that's all. [Exit STANDARD. Wild. Ha, ha, ha! poor colonel? oh, the delight of an ingenious mistress! what a life and briskness it adds to an amour, like the loves of mighty Jove, still suing in different shapes. A legerdemain mistress, who, presto! pass! and she's vanished; then hey! in an instant in your arms again! [Going. Enter VIZARD. Viz. Well met, sir Harry-what news from the island of love? Wild. Faith, we made but a broken voyage by your chart; but now I'm bound for another port: I told you the colonel was my rival. Viz. The colonel-cursed misfortune! another. [Aside. Wild. But the civilest in the world; he brought me word where my mistress lodges. The story's too long to tell you now, for I must fly. Viz. What, have you given over all thoughts of Angelica? Wild. No, no; I'll think of her some other But now for the lady Lurewell. Wit and beauty call. Wild. Now, why should I be angry that a wo-time. man is a woman? Since inconstancy and falsehood are grounded in their natures, how can they help it? That mistress ne'er can pall her lover's joys, Whose wit can whet, whene'er her beauty cloys. Her little am'rous frauds all truths excel, [Exit. Viz. The colonel my rival, too!- -How shall I manage? There is but one way-him and the knight will I set a tilting, where one cuts t'other's throat, and the survivor's hanged: so there will be two rivals pretty decently disposed of. Since honour may oblige them to play the fool, why should not necessity engage me to play the knave? [Exit. Mr Alderman, your servant; have you brought me any money, sir? Smug. Faith, madam, trading is very dead; what with paying the taxes, raising the customs, losses at sea abroad, and maintaining our wives at home, the bank is reduced very low. Lure. Come, come, sir, these evasions won't serve your turn; I must have money, sir—I hope you don't design to cheat me? : Smug. Cheat you, madam !—have a care what you say I'm an alderman, madam-Cheat you, madam! I have been an honest citizen these five-and-thirty years. Lure. An honest citizen! Bear witness, Parly —I shall trap him in more lies presently. Come, sir, though I am a woman, I can take a course. Smug. What course, madam? You'll go to law, will ye? I can maintain a suit of law, be it right or wrong, these forty years, I am sure of that, thanks to the honest practice of the courts. Lure. Sir, I'll blast your reputation, and so ruin your credit. Smug. Blast my reputation! he, he, he! Why, I'm a religious man, madam; I have been very instrumental in the reformation of manners. Ruin my credit! Ah, poor woman! There is but one way, madam- -you have a sweet leering eye. Lure. You instrumental in the reformation! How? Smug. I whipped all the whores, cut and longtail, out of the parish-Ah, that leering eye!Then, I voted for pulling down the playhouse Ah, that ogle, that ogle!-Then, my own pious example-Ah, that lip, that lip! Lure. Here's a religious rogue for you, now!— As I hope to be saved, I have a good mind to beat the old monster. Smug. Madam, I have brought you about a hundred and fifty guineas (a great deal of money, as times go) and Lure. Come, give them me. Smug. Ah, that hand, that hand! that pretty, soft, white- I have brought it, you see; but the condition of the obligation is such, that whereas that leering eye, that pouting lip, that pretty soft hand, that-you understand me; you understand; I'm sure you do, you little rogue Lure. Here's a villain, now, so covetous, that he won't wench upon his own cost, but would bribe me with my own money. I'll be revenged. [Aside.] Upon my word, Mr Ålderman, you make me blush,-what d'ye mean, pray? Smug. See here, madam. [Puts a piece of mo ney in his mouth.] Buss and guinea, buss and guinea, buss and guinea. Lure. Well, Mr Alderman, you have such pretty winning ways, that I will, ha, ha, ha! Smug. Will you, indeed, he, he, he! my little cocket? And when, and where, and how? Lure. Twill be a difficult point, sir, to secure both our honours; you must therefore be disguised, Mr Alderman. Smug. Pshaw! no matter; I am an old fornicator; I'm not half so religious as I seem to be. You little rogue, why, I'm disguised as I am; our sanctity is all outside, all hypocrisy. Lure. No man is seen to come into this house after night-fall; you must therefore sneak in, when 'tis dark, in woman's clothes. Smug. With all my heart—I have a suit on 'ecod, I make a very handsome woman; 'ecod, purpose, my little cocket; I love to be disguised; I do.' Enter Servant, who whispers Lurewell. Lure. Oh, Mr Alderman, shall I beg you to walk into the next room? Here are some strangers coming up. Smug. Buss and guinea first-Ah, my little cocket! [Exit SMUGGLER. Enter WILDAIR. Wild. My life, my soul, my all that Heaven can give! Lure. Death's life with thee, without thee, death to live. Welcome, my dear sir Harry— -I see you got my directions. Wild. Directions! in the most charming manner, thou dear Machiavel of intrigue. Lure. Still brisk and airy, I find, sir Harry. air, and makes joy lighten in my face. Wild. The sight of you, madam, exalts my Lure. I have a thousand questions to ask you, sir Harry. How d'ye like France? Wild. Ah! c'est le plus beau païs du monde. Lure. Then, what made you leave it so soon? Wild. Madam, vous voyez que je vous suive par-tout. Lure. Oh, monsieur, je vous suis fort obligée. But, where's the court now? Wild. At Marli, madam. Lure. And where my count La Valier? Wild. His body's in the church of Notre Dame; I don't know where his soul is. Lure. What disease did he die of? Wild. A duel, madam; I was his doctor. Wild. As most doctors do; I killed him. Wild. I should ask you that question, madam, since your ladyship makes the beau-monde where -I remem Lure. Attendez, attendez, un peuber, sir Harry, you promised me, in Paris, never to ask that impertinent question again. Wild. Pshaw, madam! that was above two months ago: besides, madam, treaties made in France are never kept. Lure. Would you marry me, sir Harry? Wild. Oh! la marriage est un grand mal-But I will marry you. Lure. Your word, sir, is not to be relied on: if a gentleman will forfeit his honour in dealings of business, we may reasonably suspect his fidelity in an amour. Wild. My honour in dealings of business! Why, madam, I never had any business in all my life. Lure. Yes, sir Harry, I have heard a very odd story, and am sorry that a gentleman of your figure should undergo the scandal. Wild. Out with it, madam. Lure. 'Tis your business, then, to acquit yourself publickly; for he spreads the scandal everywhere. Wild. Acquit myself publicly!-Here, sirrah, my coach; I'll drive instantly into the city, and cane the old villain round the Royal Exchange; he shall run the gauntlet through a thousand brushed beavers, and formal cravats, Lure. Why, he's in the house now, sir. Wild. Then, sirrah, lend me your cudgel. Lure. Sir Harry, you won't raise a disturbance in my house? Wild. Disturbance, madam! no, no, I'll beat him with the temper of a philosopher. Here, Mrs Parly, shew me the gentleman. [Exit with PARLY. Lure. Now shall I get the old monster well beaten, and sir Harry pestered next term with bloodsheds, batteries, costs and damages, solicitors and attornies; and if they don't tease him out of his good humour, I'll never plot again. [Exit. SCENE IV.-Changes to another room in the same house. Enter SMUGGLER. Smug. Oh, this damned tide-waiter! A ship and cargo worth five thousand pounds! Why, 'tis richly worth five hundred perjuries. Enter WILDAIR. Wild. Dear Mr Alderman, I'm your most devoted and humble servant. Smug. My best friend, sir Harry, you're welcome to England. Wild. I'll assure you, sir, there's not a man in the king's dominions I am gladder to meet, dear, dear Mr Alderman! [Bowing very low. Smug. Oh, lord, sir, you travellers have the most obliging ways with you! Wild. There is a business, Mr Alderman, fallen out, which you may oblige me infinitely by -I am very sorry that I am forced to be troublesome; but necessity, Mr Alderman Smug. Ay, sir, as you say, necessity- -But, upon my word, sir, I am very short of money at present; but Wild. That's not the matter, sir; I'm above an obligation that way: but the business is, I'm reduced to an indispensable necessity of being obliged to you for a beating- -Here, take this Lure. Why, the merchant, sir, that transmitted your bills of exchange to you in France, complains of some indirect and dishonourable deal-cudgel. ings. Wild. Who, old Smuggler? Lure. Ay, ay, you know him, I find. Wild. I have some reason, I think; why, the rogue has cheated me of above five hundred pounds within these three years. Smug. A beating, sir Harry! ha, ha, ha! I beat a knight-baronet! an alderman turn cudgelplayer!-Ha, ha, ha! Wild. Upon my word, sir, you must beat me, or I cudgel you; take your choice. Smug. Pshaw, pshaw! you jest Wild. Nay, 'tis sure as fate-So, alderman, I hope you'll pardon my curiosity. [Strikes him. Smug. Curiosity! Deuce take your curiosity, sir!-What d've mean? Wild. Nothing at all; I'm but in jest, sir. Smug. Oh, I can take any thing in jest! but a man might imagine, by the smartness of the stroke, that you were in downright earnest. Wild. Not in the least, sir; [Strikes him.] not in the least, indeed, sir. Smug. Pray, good sir, no more of your jests; for they are the bluntest e ts that ever I knew. Wild. [Strikes.] I heartly beg your pardon with all my heart, sir. Smug. Pardon, sir! Well, sir, that is satisfaction enough from a gentleman. But, seriously now, if you pass any more of your jests upon me I shall grow angry. one or two more. Wild. I humbly beg your permission to break [Strikes him. Smug. Oh, lord, sir, you'll break my bones! Are you mad, sir? murder, felony, manslaughter! [WILDAIR knocks him down. Wild. Sir, I beg you ten thousand pardons; but I am absolutely compelled to it, upon my honour, sir: nothing can be more averse to my inclinations, than to jest with my honest, dear, loving, obliging friend, the Alderman. [Striking him all this while: SMUGGLER tumbles over and over, and shakes out his pocket-book on the floor; LUREWELL enters, and takes it up.] Lure. The old rogue's pocket-book; this may be of use. [Aside.] Oh, lord, Sir Harry's murdering the poor old man. Smug. Oh, dear madam, I was beaten in jest, till I am murdered in good earnest. Lure. Well, well, I'll bring you off, SeniorFrappez, frappez! SCENE I.-The Street. Smug. Oh, for charity's sake, madam, rescue a poor citizen! Lure. Oh, you barbarous man !--Hold, hold! Frappez, plus rudement! Frappez—I wonder you are not ashamed. [Holding WILD.] A poor, reverend, honest elder-[Helps SMUG. up.] It makes me weep to see him in this condition, poor man!--Now, the devil take you, sir Harry -For not beating him harder-Well, my dear, you shall come at night, and I'll make you amends. [Here SIR HARRY takes snuff. Smug. Madam, I will have amends before I leave the place-Sir, how durst you use me thus? Wild. Sir? Smug. Sir, I say that I will have satisfaction. Wild. With all my heart. [Throws snuff into his eyes. Smug. Oh, murder, blindness, fire! Oh, madam, madam, get me some water. Water, fire, fire, water! [Exit with LUREWELL. Wild. How pleasant is resenting an injury without passion! 'Tis the beauty of revenge. Let statesmen plot, and under business groan, And, settling ublic quiet, lose their own; Let soldiers drudge and fight for pay or fame, For when they're shot, I think 'tis much the same; Let scholars vex their brains with mood and tense, And, mad with strength of reason, fools com mence, Losing their wits in searching after sense ; ACT III. Enter STANDARD and VIZARD. Stand. I BRING him word where she lodged; I the civilest rival in the world? 'Tis impossible. Viz. I shall urge it no farther, sir. I only thought, sir, that my character in the world might add authority to my words, without so many repetitions. Stand. Pardon me, dear Vizard. Our belief struggles hard, before it can be brought to yield to the disadvantage of what we love; 'tis so great an abuse to our judgment, that it makes the faults of our choice our own failing. But what said sir Harry? Viz. He pitied the poor credulous colonel, laughed heartily, flew away with all the raptures of a bride-groom, repeating these lines: A mistress ne'er can pall her lover's joys, Whose wit can whet, whene'er her beauty cloys. Stand. A mistress ne'er can pall! By all my wrongs he whores her, and I am made their property!-Vengeance-Vizard, you must carry a note for me to Sir Harry. Viz. What, a challenge? I hope you don't design to fight. Stand. What, wear the livery of my king, and pocket an affront? 'Twere an abuse to his sacred Majesty: a soldier's sword, Vizard, should start of itself to redress its master's wrong. Viz. However, sir, I think it not proper for me to carry any such message between friends. Stand. I have ne'er a servant here; what shall |