Sup. I'll never tell while I live, sir. Sir Sol. Nay, then, I'll trust thee further. Between thee and I, Supple, I have reason to believe my wife hates me, too. Sup. Ah, dear sir! I doubt that's no secret; for, to say the truth, my lady's bitter young, and gamesome. Sir Sol. But can she have the impudence, think'st thou, to make a cuckold of a knight, one that was dubbed by the royal sword? Sup. Alas, sir, I warrant she has the courage of a countess; if she's once provoked, she cares not what she does in her passion; if you were ten times a knight she'd give you dub for dub, sir. Sir Sol. Ah! Supple, when her blood's up, I confess she's the devil; and I question if the whole conclave of cardinals could lay her. But suppose she should resolve to give me a sample of her sex, and make me a cuckold in cool blood? Sup. Why, if she should, sir, don't take it so to heart; cuckolds are no such monsters now-adays in the city, you know, sir, it's so many honest men's fortune, that no body minds it there; and, at this end of the town, a cuckold has as much respect as his wife, for aught I see; for gentlemen don't know but it may be their own case another day, and so people are willing to do as they would be done by. Sir Sol. And yet I do not think but my spouse is honest and think she is not-would I were satisfied! Sup. Troth, sir, I don't know what to think; but, in my conscience, I believe good looking after her can do her no harm. Sir Sol. Right, Supple; and in order to it, I'll first demolish her visiting days. For how do I know but they may be so many private clubs for cuckoldom? Sup. Ah, sir! your worship knows I was always against your coming to this end of the town. Sir Sol. Thou wert indeed, my honest Supple: but woman! fair and faithless woman, wormed and worked me to her wishes;-like fond Mark SCENE 1. CLARINDA's apartment. Enter CLARINDA and SYLVIA. Cla. Ha, ha! poor Sylvia! Antony, I let my empire moulder from my hands, and gave up all for love. I must have a young wife, with a merrain to me-I hate her, too-and yet the devil on't is, I'm still jealous of her.Stay! let me reckon up all the fashionable virtues she has that can make a man happy. In the first place-I think her very ugly. Sup. Ah, that's because you are married to her, sir. Sir Sol. As for her expences, no arithmetic can reach them; she's always longing for something dear and useless; she will certainly ruin me in china, silks, ribbands, fans, laces, perfumes, washes, powder, patches, jessamine, gloves, and ratitia. Sup. Ah, sir, that's a cruel liquor with them. Sir Sol. To sum up all would run me mad.— The only way to put a stop to her career, must be to put off my coach, turn away her chairmen, lock out her Swiss porter, bar up the doors, keep out all visitors, and then she'll be less expensive. Sup. Ay, sir, for few women think it worth their while to dress for their husbands. Sir Sol. Then we shan't be plagued with my old lady Tittle-tattle's howd'ye's in a morning, nor my lady Dainty's spleen, or the sudden indisposition of that grim beast her horrible Dutch mastiff. Sup. No, sir, nor the impertinence of that great fat creature, my lady Swill-Tea. Sir Sol. And her squinting daughter.--No, Supple, after this night, nothing in petticoats shall come within ten yards of my doors. Sup. Nor in breeches neither. Sir Sol. Only Mr Clermont; for I expect him to sign articles with me for the five hundred pounds he is to give me, for that ungovernable jade, my niece Clarinda.-But now to my own affairs. I'll step into the Park, and see if I can meet with my hopeful spouse there. I warrant, engaged in some innocent freedom, as she calls it, as walking in a mask, to laugh at the impertinencies of fops that don't know her; but 'tis more likely, I'm afraid, a plot to intrigue with those that do. Oh, how many torments lie in the small circle of a wedding-ring! [Exeunt. ACT II. Syl. Nay, prithee, don't laugh at me. There's no accounting for inclination: for if there were, you know, why should it be a greater folly in me, to fall in love with a man I never saw but once in my life, than it is in you to resist an honest gentleman, whose fidelity has deserved your heart an hundred times over. Cla. Ah, but an utter stranger, cousin, and one that, for aught you know, may be no gentleman. Syl. That's impossible: his conversation could not be counterfeit. An elevated wit, and good breeding, have a natural lustre that's inimitable. Beside, he saved my life at the hazard of his own; so that part of what I give him, is but gratitude. Cla. But suppose now he is married, and has three or four children? Syl. Psha! prithee don't tease me with so many ill-natured objections. I tell you he is not dam? married! I am sure he is not: for I never saw | [Aside.] Was there a good deal of company, maa face look more in humour in my life. Beside, he told me himself, he was a country gentleman, just come to town upon business: and I am resolved to believe him. Lady Sad. Abundance! and the best I have seen this season: for 'twas between twelve and one, the very hour, you know, when the mob are Cla. Well, well; I'll suppose you both as fit violently hungry. Oh, the air was so inspiring! for one another as a couple of tallies. But, still, so amorous! And, to complete the pleasure, I my dear, you know there's a surly old father's was attacked in conversation by the most charmcommand against you; he is in articles to marrying, modest, agreeably insinuating young fellow, sure, that ever woman played the fool with. Cla. Who was it? you to another: and, though I know love is a notable contriver, I can't see how you'll get over that difficulty. Syl. 'Tis a terrible one, I own; but, with a little of your assistance, dear Clarinda, I am still in hopes to bring it to an even wager, I prove as wise as my father. Cla. Nay, you may be sure of me; you may see, by the management of my own amours, I have so natural a compassion for disobedience, I shan't be able to refuse you any thing in distress-There's my hand; tell me how I can serve you? Syl. Why, thus because I would not wholly discover myself to him at once, I have sent him a note to visit me here, as if these lodgings were my own. Cla. Hither! to my lodgings! Twas well I sent Colonel Standfast word I should not be at home. [Aside. Syl. I hope you'll pardon my freedom, since one end of my taking it, too, was to have your opinion of him before I engage any farther. Cla. Oh, it needs no apology; any thing of mine is at your service-I am only afraid my troublesome lover, Mr Clerimont, should happen to see him, who is of late so impertinently jealous of a rival, though from what cause I know notnot but I lie too-[Aside.] I say, should he see him, your country gentleman would be in danI can tell you. ger, Syl. Oh, there's no fear of that; for I have ordered him to be brought in the back way: when I have talked with him a little alone, I'll find an occasion to leave him with you; and then we'll compare our opinions of him. Enter a Servant to CLARINDA. Lady Sad. Nay, Heaven knows; his face is as entirely new as his conversation. What wretches our young fellows are to him! Syl. What sort of a person? Lady Sad. Tall, straight, well-limbed, walked firin, and a look as cheerful as a May-day morning. Syl. The picture's very like: pray Heaven it is not my gentleman's! Cla. I wish this don't prove my colonel. [Aside. [Aside. Syl. How came you to part with him so soon? Lady Sad. Oh, name it not! that eternal damper of all pleasure, my husband, sir Solomon, came into the Mall in the very crisis of our conversation-I saw him at a distance, and complained that the air grew tainted, that I was sick o' th' sudden, and left him in such abruptness and confusion, as if he had been himself my hus band. Cla. A melancholy disappointment, indeed! Lady Sad. Oh, 'tis a husband's nature to give them. A Servant enters, and whispers SYLVIA. Syl. Desire him to walk in-Cousin, you'll be at hand? Cla. In the next room-Come, madam, Sylvia has a little business: I'll shew you some of the sweetest, prettiest figured china. Lady Sad. My dear, I wait on you. [Exeunt LADY SAD. and CLAR. Enter ATALL, as MR FREEMAN. Syl. You find, sir, I have kept my word in seeing you; 'tis all you yet have asked of me; and when I know 'tis in my power to be more obliging, there's nothing you can command in honour I shall refuse you. Atall. This generous offer, madam, is so high an obligation, that it were almost mean in me to ask a farther favour. But 'tis a lover's merit to be a miser in his wishes, and grasp at all occasions to enrich them. I own I feel your charms too sensibly prevail, but dare not give a loose to my ambitious thoughts, till I have passed one dreadful doubt that shakes them. Syl. If 'tis in my power to clear it, ask me freely. Atall. I tremble at the trial; and yet, me thinks, my fears are vain: but yet to kill or cure them once for ever, be just and tell me are you married? Syl. If that can make you easy, no. Åtall. 'Tis ease, indeed-nor are you promised, nor your heart engaged? Syl. That's hard to tell you: but to be just, I own my father has engaged my person to one I never saw; and my heart, I fear, is inclining to one he never saw. Atall. Oh, yet be merciful, and ease my doubt; tell me the happy man that has deserved so exquisite a blessing. Syl. That, sir, requires some pause: first, tell me why you're so inquisitive, without letting me know the condition of your own heart? Atall. In every circumstance my heart's the same with yours; 'tis promised to one I never saw, by a commanding father, who, by my firm hopes of happiness, I am resolved to disobey, unless your cruelty prevents it. Syl. But my disobedience would beggar me. Atall. Banish that fear. I'm heir to a fortune will support you like yourself. May I not know your family? Syl. Yet you must not. Atall. Why that nicety? Is not it in my power to enquire whose house this is when I am gone? Syl. And be never the wiser. These lodgings are a friend's, and are only borrowed on this occasion: but to save you the trouble of any further needless questions, I will make you one proposal. I have a young lady here within, who is the only confident of my engagements to you :on her opinion I rely; nor can you take it ill, if I take no farther steps without it: 'twould be miserable, indeed, should we both meet beggars. I own your actions and appearance merit all you can desire; let her be as well satisfied of your pretensions and condition, and you shall find it shan't be a little fortune shall make me ungrateful. Atall. So generous an offer exceeds my hopes! Syl. Who's there? Atall. I shall be proud to be better known among any of your friends. [Salutes her. Cla. Soh! he takes the hint, I see, and seems not to know me neither: I know not what to think I am confounded! I hate both him and her. How unconcerned he looks! Confusion! he addresses her before my face. LADY SADLIFE peeping in. Lady Sad. What do I see? The pleasant young fellow that talked with me in the park just now This is the luckiest accident! I must know a little more of him. [Retires. Syl. Cousin, and Mr Freeman, I think I need not make any apology—you both know the occasion of my leaving you together-in a quarter of an hour I'll wait on you again. [Exit SYLVIA. Atall. So! I'm in a hopeful way now, faith; but buff's the word: I'll stand it. Cla. Mr Freeman! So, my gentleman has changed his name, too! How harmless he looks! I have my senses sure, and yet the demureness of that face looks as if he had a mind to persuade me out of them. I could find in my heart to humour his assurance, and see how far he'll carry it-Will you please to sit, sir? [They sit. Atall. What the devil can this mean? Sure she has a mind to counterface me, and not know me, too- -With all my heart: if her ladyship won't know me, I'm sure 'tis not my business, at this time, to know her. [Aside. Cla. Certainly that face is cannon proof. [Aside. Atall. Now for a formal speech, as if I had never seen her in my life before. [Aside.] Madam-a-hem! Madam-I-a-hem! Cla. Curse of that steady face! [Aside. Atall. I say, madam, since I am an utter stranger to you, I am afraid it will be very difficult for me to offer you more arguments than one to do me a friendship with your cousin; but if you are, as she seems to own you, her real friend, I presume you can't give her a better proof of your being 30, than pleading the cause of a sincere and humble lover, whose tender wishes never can propose to taste of peace in life without her. Cla. Umph! I'm choaked. [Aside. Atall. She gave me hopes, that when I had satisfied you of my birth and fortune, you would do me the honour to let me know her name and family. Cla. Sir, I must own you are the most perfect master of your art, that ever entered the lists of assurance. Atall. Madam! Cla. And I don't doubt but you will find it a much easier task to impose upon my cousin, than me. Atall. Impose, madam! I should be sorry any thing I have said could disoblige you into such hard thoughts of me. Sure, madam, you are un- | that, till my innocence is clear to her, and she der some misinformation. again receives me into mercy, Cla. I was indeed; but now my eyes are open; for, till this minute, I never knew that the gay colonel Standfast was the demure Mr Freeman. Atall. Colonel Standfast! This is extremely dark, madam, Cla. This jest is tedious, sir-impudence grows dull, when 'tis so very extravagant. Atall. Madam, I am a gentleman-but not yet wise enough, I find, to account for the humours of a fine lady. Cla. Troth, sir, on second thoughts, I begin to be a little better reconciled to your assurance; 'tis, in some sort, modesty to deny yourself; for to own your perjuries to my face, had been an insolence transcendently provoking. Atall. Really, madam, my not being able to apprehend one word of all this, is a great inconvenience to my affair with your cousin but if you will first do me the honour to make me acquainted with her name and family, I don't much care if I do take a little pains afterwards to come to a right understanding with you. Cla. Come, come, since you see this assurance will do you no good, you had better put on a simple look, and generously confess your frailties: the same slyness, that deceived me first, will still find me woman enough to pardon you. Atall. That bite won't do. [Aside.] Sure, madam, you mistake me for some other person. Cla. Insolent, audacious villain! I am not to have my senses, then! Atull. No. Atall. Pray, madam, which is the nearest way out? Lady Sad. Sir, out- -a Atall. Oh, my stars! is't you, madam? this is fortunate indeed-I beg you'll tell me, do you live here, madam? Lady Sad. Not very far off, sir: but this is no place to talk with you alone-indeed I must beg your pardon. Atall. By all those kindling charms that fire my soul, no consequence on earth shall make me quit my hold, till you've given me some kind as[Aside.surance that I shall see you again, and speedily! egad I'll have one out of the family at least. Cla. And you are resolved to stand it to the last! Atall. The last extremity. [Aside. Cla. Well, sir, since you are so much a stranger to colonel Standfast, I'll tell you where to find him, and tell him this from me. I hate him, scorn, detest, and loath him: I never meant him but at best for my diversion; and, should he ever renew his dull addresses to me, I'll have him used as his vain insolence deserves. Now, sir, I have no more to say, and I desire you would leave the house immediately. Atall. I would not willingly disoblige you, madam; but 'tis impossible to stir 'till I have seen your cousin, and cleared myself of these strange aspersions. Cla. Don't flatter yourself, sir, with so vain a hope; for I must tell you, once for all, you've seen the last of her; and if you won't be gone, you'll oblige me to have you forced away. Atall. I'll be even with you. [Aside.] Well, madam, since I find nothing can prevail upon your cruelty, I'll take my leave: but, as you hope for justice on the man that wrongs you, at least be faithful to your lovely friend. And when you have named to her my utmost guilt, yet paint my passion, as it is, sincere. Tell her what tortures I endured in this severe exclusion from her sight, Lady Sad. Oh, good, here's company! Atall. Oh, do not rack me with delays, but quick, before this dear, short-lived opportunity's lost, inform me where you live, or kill me: to part with this soft white hand is ten thousand daggers to my heart. [Kissing it eagerly. Lady Sad. Oh, lud! I am going home this mi nute; and if you should offer to dog my chair, I protest I- was ever such usage-Lordsure! Oh-follow me down, then. [Exeunt. Re-enter CLARINDA and SYLVIA, Syl. Ha, ha, ha! Cla. You don't believe, then? Syl. I do believe, that when some women are inclined to like a man, nothing more palpably discovers it, than their railing at him; ha, ha!Your pardon, cousin; you know you laughed at me just now upon the same occasion. Cla. The occasion's quite different, madam ; I hate him. And, once more I tell you, he's a villain; you're imposed on. He's a colonel of foot, his regiment's now in Spain, and his name's Standfast. Syl. But, pray, good cousin, whence had you | mont's way is, to be severe in his construction of this intelligence of him? people's meaning. Cla. From the same place that you had false account, madam; his own mouth. your Syl. What was his business with you? Cla. Much about the same, as his business with you-love. Syl. Love! to you! Cla. Me, madam! Lord, what am I? Old, or a monster! Is it so prodigious that a man should like me? Syl. No! but I'm amazed to think, if he had liked you, he should leave you so soon, for me! Cla. For you! leave me for you! No, madam, I did not tell you that, neither! Ha, ha, ha! Syl. No! What made you so violently angry with him, then? Indeed, cousin, you had better take some other fairer way; this artifice is much too weak to make me break with him. But, however, to let you see I can be still a friend, prove him to be what you say he is, and my engagements with him shall soon be over. Cla. Look you, madam, not but I slight the tenderest of his addresses; but, to convince you that my vanity was not mistaken in him, I'll write to him by the name of Colonel Standfast, and do you the same by that of Freeman; and let's each appoint him to meet us at my lady Sadlife's at the same time if these appear two different men, I think our dispute's easily at an end; if but one, and he does not own all I have said of him to your face, I'll make you a very humble curtesy, and beg your pardon. Syl. And, if he does own it, I'll make your ladyship the same reverence, and beg yours. Enter CLERIMONT. Cla. Pshaw! he here! Cle. I am glad to find you in such good company, madam. Cla. One's seldom long in good company, sir. Cle. I am sorry mine has been so troublesome of late; but I value your ease at too high a rate to disturb it. [Going. Syl. Nay, Mr Clerimont, upon my word you shan't stir. Hark you-[Whispers.]—Your pardon, cousin, Cle. I must not lose him, neither-Mr Cleri Syl. I'll write my letter, and be with you, cousin. [Exit SYLVIA. Cle. It was always my principle, madam, to have an humble opinion of my merit; when a woman of sense frowns upon me, I ought to think I deserve it. Cla. But to expect to be always received with a smile, I think, is having a very extraordinary opinion of one's merit. Cle. We differ a little as to fact, madam: for these ten days past, I have had no distinction, but a severe reservedness. You did not use to be so sparing of your good-humour; and, while I see you gay to all the world but me, I cannot but be a little concerned at the change. Cla. If he has discovered the colonel now, I'm undone! he could not meet him, sure. I must humour him a little.-[Aside.]-Men of your sincere temper, Mr Clermont, I own, don't always meet with the usage they deserve: but women are giddy things, and, had we no errors to auswer for, the use of good-nature in a lover would be lost. Vanity is our inherent weakness: you must not chide, if we are sometimes fonder of your passions than your prudence. Cle. This friendly condescension makes me more your slave than ever. Oh, yet be kind, and tell me, have I been tortured with a groundless jealousy? Cla. Let your own heart be judge--But don't take it ill if I leave you now-I have some earnest business with my cousin Sylvia: But to night, at my lady Dainty's, I'll make you amends: you'll be there? Cle. I need not promise you. Cla. Your servant. Ah, how easily is poor sincerity imposed on! Now for the colonel. [Aside.] [Exit CLARINDA. Cle. This unexpected change of humour more stirs my jealousy than all her late severity. I'll watch her close: For she, that from a just reproach is kind, ACT III. SCENE I LADY DAINTY'S apartment: a ta- Lady Dain. Thou art strangely slow; I told thee the hartshorn; I have the vapours to that degree! Sit. If your ladyship would take my advice, VOL. II. [Exit. you should e'en fling your physic out of the windays, I'd be bound to be sick for you. dow: if you were not in perfect health in three Lady Dain. Peace, good impertinence! I tell thee, no woman of quality is, or should be, in perfect health-Huh, huh!-Coughs faintly.— To be always in health is as vulgar as to be always in humour, and would equally betray one's want of wit and breeding: Where are the fel lows? 3 K |