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Lord Fop. Let's be more familiar upon't, and the chaises; we must make a little more haste, give her disorder! ha, ha! Lady Bet. Ha, ha, ha!

Lord Fop. Stap my breath, but lady Easy is an admirable discoverer!-Marriage is indeed a prodigious security of one's inclination; a man's likely to take a world of pains in an employment, where he can't be turned out for his idleness.

Lady Bet. I vow, my lord, that's vastly generous to all the fine women; you are for giving them a despotic power in love, I see, to reward and punish as they think fit.

Lord Fop. Ha, ha! Right, madam; what signifies beauty without power? And a fine woman, when she's married, makes as ridiculous a figure, as a beaten general marching out of a garrison.

Lady Easy. I'm afraid, lady Betty, the greatest danger in your use of power, would be from a too heedless liberality; you would more mind the man than his merit.

Lord Fop. Piqued again, by all that's fretful!— Well, certainly, to give envy is a pleasure inexpressible. [TO LADY BETTY,

Lady Bet. Ha, ha! Lady Easy. Does not she show him well, my lord? [Aside to LORD MOR. Lord Mor. Perfectly, and me to myselfFor now, I almost blush to think I ever was uneasy at him. [TO LADY EASY. Lord Fop. Lady Easy, I ask ten thousand pardons; I'm afraid I am rude all this while.

Lady Easy. Oh, not at all, my lord; you are always good company, when you please not but in some things, indeed, you are apt to be like other fine gentlemen, a little too loose in your principles.

Lord Fop. Oh, madam, never to the offence of the ladies; I agree in any community with them; nobody is a more constant churchman, when the fine women are there,

Lady Easy. Oh fy, my lord! you ought not to go for their sakes at all! And I wonder, you that are for being such a good husband of your virtues, are not afraid of bringing your prudence into a lampoon, or a play.

Lady Bet. Lampoons and plays, madam, are only things to be laughed at.

Lord Fop. Odso! ladies, the court's coming home, I see; shall not we make our bows? Lady Bet. Oh, by all means!

Lady Easy. Lady Betty, I must leave you; for I am obliged to write letters; and I know you won't give me time after supper.

Lady Bet. Well, my dear, I'll make a short visit, and be with you. [Exit LADY EASY.] Pray, what's become of my lady Graveairs?

Lord Mor. Oh, I believe she's gone home, madam; she seemed not to be very well.

Lord Fop. And where's sir Charles, my lord? Lord Mor. I left him at his own lodgings. Lady Bet. He's upon some ramble, I'm afraid. Lord Fop. Nay, as for that matter, a man may ramble at home sometimes-But, here come

madam.

SCENE IV.

[Exeunt,

-Changes to SIR CHARLES'S lodgings.

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Opens, and discovers SIR CHARLES without his periwig, and EDGING by him, both asleep, in two easy chairs. Then enters LADY EASY, who starts and trembles, some time unable to speak. Lady Easy. Ha! protect me, virtue, patience, reason!

Teach me to bear this killing sight, or let
Me think my dreaming senses are deceived!
For sure, a sight like this might raise the arm
Of duty, even to the breast of love! At least,
I'll throw this vizor of my patience off:
Now wake him in his guilt,

And, barefaced, front him with my wrongs.
I'll talk to him till he blushes, nay, till he
Frowns on me, perhaps-and then
I'm lost again-The ease of a few tears
Is all that's left to me-

And duty, too, forbids me to insult,
When I have vowed obedience-Perhaps
The fault's in me, and nature has not formed
Me with the thousand little requisites
That warm the heart to love-
Somewhere there is a fault-

But Heaven best knows what both of us de

serve:

Ha! bare-headed, and in so sound a sleep!
Who knows, while thus exposed to the unwhole-
some air,

But Heaven offended may o'ertake his crime,
And, in some languishing distemper, leave him
A severe example of its violated laws-
Forbid it mercy, and forbid it love!
This may prevent it.

[Takes a steinkirk off her neck, and lays it gently on his head.] And, if he should wake offended at my too busy care, let my heart-breaking patience, duty, and my fond affection, plead my pardon. [After she has been out some time, a bell rings; EDGING wakes, and stirs SIR CHARLES.] Edg. Oh!

Erit.

Sir Cha. How now! what's the matter?
Edg. Oh, bless my soul! my lady's come

home.

Sir Cha. Go, go, then.

[Bell rings. Edg. Oh, lud! my head's in such a condition, too. [Runs to the glass.] I am coming, madamOh, lud ! here's no powder, neither-Here, madam. [Exit.

Sir Cha. How now? [Feeling the steinkirk upon his head. What's this? How came it here? [Puts on his wig.] Did not I see my wife wear this to-day?-Death! she can't have been here, sure-it could not be jealousy that brought her home--for iny coning was accidental-so, too, I fear, was hers-How careless have I been?-not to secure the door, neither-'Twas foolish-It must be so! She certainly has seen me here sleeping with her woman: if so, how low an hypocrite to her must that sight have proved me! The thought has made me despicable, even to myself -How mean a vice is lying, and how often have these empty pleasures lulled my honour and my conscience to lethargy, while I grossly have abused her, poorly skulking behind a thousand falsehoods!-Now I reflect, this has not been the first of her discoveries-How contemptible a figure must I have made to her! A crowd of recollected circumstances confirms me now, she has been long acquainted with my follies; and yet, with what amazing prudence has she borne the secret pangs of injured love, and wore an everlasting smile to me! This asks a little thinking-something should be done I'll see her instantly, and be resolved from her behaviour. [Erit.

SCENE VI.-Changes to another room.

Enter LADY EASY, and EDGING. Lady Easy. Where have you been, Edging? Edg. Been, madam! I-I-I-I came as soon as I heard you ring, madam,

Lady Easy. How guilt confounds her! but she's below my thought-Fetch my last new sack hither–I have a mind to alter it a little-make haste

Edg. Yes, madam- -I see she does not suspect any thing. [Erit. Lady Easy. Heigh ho! [Sitting down.] I had forgot-but I'm unfit for writing now- -'Twas an hard conflict-yet it's a joy to think it over: a secret pride, to tell my heart my conduct has been just-How low are vicious minds, that offer injuries! how much superior innocence, that bears them! Still there's a pleasure, even in the melancholy of a quiet conscience-Away, my fears, it is not yet impossible-for, while his human nature is not quite shook off, I ought not to despair.

Re-enter EDGING, with a Sack. Edg. Here's the sack, madam. Lady Easy. So, sit down there-and, let me ce-here--rip off all that silver.

Edg. Indeed, I always thought it would become your ladyship better without it-But, now, suppose, madam, you carried another row of gold round the scollops, and then you take and lay this silver plain all along the gathers, and your ladyship will perfectly see, it will give the thing ten thousand times another air.

Lady Easy. Prithee, don't be impertinent; do as I bid you.

Edg. Nay, madam, with all my heart; your ladyship may do as you please.

Lady Easy. This creature grows so confident; and I dare not part with her, lest he should think it jealousy. [Aside.

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Lady Easy. I fancy plain gold and black would become me better.

Sir Cha. That's a grave thought, my dear. Edg. O, dear sir, not at all; my lady's much in the right; I am sure, as it is, it's fit for nothing but a girl.

Sir Cha. Leave the room.

Edg. Lord, sir! I can't stir-I must stay to— Sir Cha. Go [Angrily. Edg. [Throwing down the work hastily, and crying, aside.] If ever I speak to him again, I'll be burned! [Exit EDGING.

Sir Cha. Sit still, my dear-I came to talk with you——and, which you well may wonder at, what I have to say is of importance, too; but it is in order to my hereafter always talking kindly

to you.

Lady Easy. Your words were never disobliging, nor can I charge you with a look that ever had the appearance of being unkind.

Sir Cha. The perpetual spring of your good humour lets me draw no merit from what I have appeared to be, which makes me curious now to know your thoughts of what I really am: and never having asked you this before, it puzzles me: nor can I (my strange negligence considered) reconcile to reason your first thought of venturing upon marriage with me.

Lady Easy. I never thought it such a hazard.

Sir Cha. How could a woman of your restraint in principles, sedateness, sense, and tender disposition, propose to lead an happy life with one (now I reflect) that hardly took an hour's pains, even before marriage, to appear but what I am: a loose, unheeded wretch, absent in all I do, ci

vil, and as often rude, without design, unseasonably thoughtful, easy to a fault, and, in my best of praise, but carelessly good-natured? How shall I reconcile your temper with having made so strange a choice?

:

Lady Easy. Your own words may answer you -Your having never seemed to be but what you really were; and, through that carelessness of temper, there still shone forth to me an undesigning honesty, I always doubted of in smoother faces thus, while I saw you took least pains to win me, you pleased and wooed me most: nay, I have thought, that such a temper could never be deliberately unkind: or, at the worst, I knew that errors, from the want of thinking, might be borne; at least, when, probably, one moment's serious thought might end them: these were my worst of fears; and these, when weighed by growing love, against my solid hopes, were nothing.

Sir Cha. My dear, your understanding startles me, and justly calls my own in question: I blush to think I've worn so bright a jewel in my bosom, and, till this hour, have scarce been curious once to look upon its lustre.

Lady Easy. You set too high a value on the common qualities of an easy wife.

Sir Cha. Virtues, like benefits, are double, when concealed: and, I confess, I yet suspect you of an higher value far than I have spoke

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handkerchief?

Lady Easy. Ha!

Sir Cha. What is it you start at? You hear the question.

Lady Easy. What shall I say? my fears confound me. [Aside. Sir Cha. Be not concerned, my dear; be easy in the truth, and tell me.

Lady Easy. I cannot speak-and I could wish you'd not oblige me to it 'tis the only thing I ever yet refused you; and, though I want reason for my will, let me not answer you.

Sir Cha. Your will, then, be a reason; and since I see you are so generously tender of reproaching me, it is fit I should be easy in my gratitude, and make, what ought to be my shame, my joy. Let me be therefore pleased to tell you now, your wondrous conduct has waked me to a sense of your disquiet past, and resolution never to disturb it more And (not that I offer it as a merit, but yet in blind compliance to my will) let me beg you would immediately discharge your woman.

Lady Easy. Alas! I think not of her-O, my dear, distract me not with this excess of good[Weeping.

ness.

Sir Cha. Nay, praise me not, lest I reflect how little I have deserved it; I see you are in pain to give me this confusion. Come, I will not shock your softness by my untimely blush for what is

past, but rather sooth you to a pleasure at my sense of joy for my recovered happiness to come. Give, then, to my new-born love what name you please; it cannot, shall not, be too kind: O! it cannot be too soft for what my soul swells up with emulation to deserve-Receive me, then, entire at last, and take, what yet no woman ever truly had, my conquered heart!

Lady Easy. O, the soft treasure! O, the dear reward of long-deserving love!-Now am I blest indeed, to see you kind without the expence of pain in being so, to make you mine with easiness: thus! thus to have you mine, is something more than happiness; 'tis double life, and madness of abounding joy. But it was a pain intolerable to give you a confusion.

Sir Cha. O thou engaging virtue! But I am too slow in doing justice to thy love: I know thy softness will refuse me; but remember, I insist upon it-let thy woman be discharged this minute.

Lady Easy. No, my dear; think me not so low in faith, to fear, that, after what you have said, it will ever be in her power to do me future injury. When I can conveniently provide for her, I'll think on it: but to discharge her now, might let her guess at the occasion; and methinks I would have our difference, like our endearments, be equally a secret to our ser

vants.

Sir Cha. Still my superior every way!-be it as you have better thought-Well, my dear, now I'll confess a thing that was not in your power to accuse me of; to be short, I own this creature is not the only one I have been to blame with.

Lady Easy. I know she is not, and was always less concerned to find it so; for constancy in errors might have been fatal to me.

Sir Cha. What is it you know, my dear? [Surprised. Lady Easy. Come, I'm not afraid to accuse you now my lady Graveairs-Your carelessness, my dear, let all the world know it; and it would have been hard indeed, had it been only to me a secret.

Sir Cha. My dear, I will ask no more questions, for fear of being more ridiculous; I do confess, I thought my discretion there had been a master-piece-How contemptible must I have looked all this while!

Lady Easy. You shan't say so.

Sir Cha. Well, to let you see I had some shame, as well as nature in me, I had writ this to my lady Graveairs upon my first discovering that you knew I had wronged you: read it.

Lady Easy. [Reads.] Something has happen'ed that prevents the visit I intended you; and I could gladly wish, you never would reproach me if I tell you, 'tis utterly inconvenient that I should ever see you more.'

This, indeed, was more than I had merited.

Enter a Servant.

Sir Cha. Who is there? Here-Step with this to lady Graveairs.

[Seals the letter, and gives it the servant. Ser. Yes, sir--Madam, my lady Betty's

come.

Lady Easy. I'll wait on her.

Sir Cha. My dear, I am thinking there may be other things my negligence may have wronged you in; but be assured as I discover, all shall be corrected.--Is there any part or circumstance in your fortune that I can change or yet make easier to you?

Lady Easy. None, my dear; your good-nature never stinted me in that; and now, methinks, I have less occasion there than ever.

Re-enter Servant.

Ser. Sir, my lord Morelove's come.
Sir Cha. I am coming-

-I think I told you of the design we had laid against lady Betty. Lady Easy. You did, and I should be pleased to be myself concerned in it.

Sir Cha. I believe we may employ you: I know he waits for me with impatience. But, my dear, won't you think me tasteless to the joy you have given me, to suffer, at this time, any concern but you to employ my thoughts?

Lady Easy. Seasons must be obeyed; and since I know your friend's happiness depending, I could not taste my own, should you neglect it. Sir Cha. Thou easy sweetness!-O! what a waste of thy neglected love has my unthinking brain committed! but time, and future thrift of tenderness, shall yet repair it all. The hours will come when this soft gliding stream, that swells my heart, uninterrupted shall renew its

Course

And, like the ocean after ebb, shall move With constant force of due returning love. [Exeunt.

SCENE VII.-Changes to another room. Re-enter LADY EASY and LADY Betty. Lady Bet. You have been in tears, my dear, and yet you look pleased, too.

Lady Easy. You will pardon me, If I cannot let you into circumstances: but be satisfied, sir Charles has made me happy, even to a pain of joy.

Lady Bet. Indeed, I am truly glad of it; though I am sorry to find, that any one who has generosity enough to do you justice, should, unprovoked, be so great an enemy to me.

Lady Easy. Sir Charles your enemy! Lady Bet. My dear, you will pardon me if I always thought him so, but now I am convinced of it.

Lady Easy. In what, pray? I cannot think you will find him so.

Lady Bet. O! madam, it has been his whole business, of late, to make an utter breach between my lord Morelove and me.

Lady Easy. That may be owing to your usage of my lord: perhaps, he thought it would not disoblige you. I am confident you are mistaken in him.

Lady Bet. O! I don't use to be out in things of this nature; I can see well enough: but I shall be able to tell you more when I have talked with my lord.

Lady Easy. Here he comes; and because you shall talk with him-No excuses for positively I will leave you together.

Lady Bet. Indeed, my dear, I desire you will stay, then; for I know you think now, that I have a mind to

-ha, ha, ha!

Lady Easy. To-to-
Lady Bet. Well! I'll remember this.

Enter LORD MORELOVE.

[Going.

Lord Mor. I hope I don't fright you away, madam?

Lady Easy. Not at all, my lord; but I must beg your pardon for a moment; I will wait upon you immediately. [Erit.

Lady Bet. My lady Easy gone?

Lord Mor. Perhaps, madam, in friendship to you; she thinks I may have deserved the coldness you of late have shewn to me, and was willing to give you this opportunity to convince me you have not done it without just grounds and reason.

Lady Bet. How handsomely does he reproach me! but I cannot bear that he should think I know it-[Aside.] My lord, whatever has passed between you and me, I dare swear that could not be her thoughts at this time: for, when two people have appeared professed enemies, she cannot but think one will as little care to give, as the other receive, a justification of

their actions.

Lord Mor. Passion, indeed, often does repeated injuries on both sides; but I don't remember, in my heat of error, I ever yet professed myself your enemy.

Lady Bet. My lord, I shall be very free with you-I confess, I do not think, now, I have a greater enemy in the world.

Lord Mor. If having loved you to my own disquiet, be injurious, I am contented then to stand the foremost of your enemies.

Lady Bet. O! my lord, there's no great fear of your being my enemy that way, I dare say— Lord Mor. There is no other way my heart can bear to offend you now; and I foresee in that it will persist to my undoing.

Lady Bet. Fy, fy, my lord! we know where your heart is well enough.

Lord Mor. My conduct has, indeed, deserved this scorn; and therefore, 'tis but just I should

submit to your resentment, and beg (though I am
assured in vain) for pardon.
[Kneels.

Enter SIR CHARLES.

Sir Cha. How, my lord! [LORD MORELOVE rises. Lady Bet. Ha! He here! This was unlucky. [Aside Lord Mor. O, pity my confusion! [TO LADY BETTY. Sir Cha. I am sorry to see you can so soon forget yourself: methinks the insults you have borne from that lady, by this time should have warned you into a disgust of her regardless principles.

Lord Mor. Hold, sir Charles, while you and I are friends! I desire you would speak with honour of this lady-'Tis sufficient I have no complaint against her, and

pain, and, by that time you had stretched and gaped him heartily out of patience, of a sudden most importantly remember you had outsat your appointment with my lady Fiddle-faddle, and immediately order your coach to the park? Lady Bet. Yet, sir, have you done?

Sir Cha. No-though this might serve to shew the nature of your principles: but the noble conquest you have gained at last over defeated sense of reputation, too, has made your fame immortal.

Lord Mor. How, sir?

Lady Bet. My reputation?

Sir Cha. Aye, madam, your reputation-My lord, if I advance a falsehood, then resent it. I say your reputation-It has been your life's whole pride of late to be the common toast of every public table, vain even in the infamous addresses of a married man, my lord Foppington; let that be reconciled with reputation, I will now shake hands with shame, and bow me to the low contempt which you deserve from him; not but I suppose you will yet endeavour Sir Cha. Ha, ha! the old resource. Offers to recover him. Now, you find ill usage in danof any hopes to delude him from his resentment,ger of losing your conquest, 'tis possible you will and then as the Grand Monarque did with Ca-stop at nothing to preserve it. valier: and then you are sure to keep your word Lady Bet. Sir Charleswith him.

Lady Bet. My lord, I beg you would resent this thing no farther: an injury like this is better punished with our contempt; apparent malice should only be laughed at.

Lady Bet. Sir Charles, to let you know how far I am above your little spleen, my lord, your hand! from this hour

Sir Cha. Pshaw! pshaw! all design! all pique! mere artifice and disappointed woman. Lady Bet. Look you, sir, not that I doubt my lord's opinion of me; yet

Sir Cha. Look you, madam, in short, your word has been too often taken, to let you make up quarrels, as you used to do, with a soft look, and a fair promise you never intended to keep. Lady Bet. Was ever such insolence! He won't give me leave to speak.

Lord Mor. Sir Charles!

Lady Bet. No, pray, my lord, have patience; and since his malice seems to grow particular, I dare his worst, and urge him to the proof on't Pray, sir, wherein can you charge me with breach of promise to my lord?

Sir Cha. Death! you won't deny it? How often, to piece up a quarrel, have you appointed him to visit you alone; and, though you have promised to see no other company the whole day, when he was come he has found you among the laugh of noisy fops, coquettes, and coxcombs, dissolutely gay, while your full eyes ran over with transport at their flattery, and your own vain power of pleasing? How often, I say, have you been known to throw away, at least, four hours of your good humour upon such wretches, and, the minute they were gone, grew only dull to him, sunk into a distasteful spleen, complained you had talked yourself into the head-ache, and then indulged upon the dear delight of seeing him in

[Walks disordered, and he after her. Sir Cha. I know your vanity is so voracious, it will even wound itself to feed itself; offer him a blank, perhaps, to fill up with hopes of what nature he pleases, and part even with your pride to keep him.

Lady Bet. Sir Charles, I have not deserved this of you. [Bursting into tears. Sir Cha. Ah! true woman! drop him a soft dissembling tear, and then his just resentment must be hushed of course.

Lord Mor. O Charles! I can bear no more; those tears are so reproaching.

Sir Cha. Hist, for your life! [Aside, and then aloud.] My lord, if you believe her, you are undone; the very next sight of my lord Foppington would make her yet forswear all that she can promise.

Lady Bet. My lord Foppington! Is that the mighty crime that must condemn me, then? You know I used him but as a tool of my resentment, which you yourself, by a pretended friendship to us both, most artfully provoked me to—

Lord Mor. Hold, I conjure you, madam; I want not this conviction.

Lady Bet. Send for him this minute, and you and he shall both be witnesses of the contempt and detestation I have for any forward hopes his vanity may have given him, or your malice would insinuate.

Sir Cha. Death! you would as soon eat fire— as soon part with your luxurious taste of folly, as dare to own the half of this before his face, or any one, that would make you blush to deny it to-Here comes my wife now, we shall see

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