building, sir; but you had better walk about, and cool by degrees, than venture immediately to the air: but you'll find some tolerable pictures.Dorinda, shew the gentleman the way. [Ezit.] I must go to the poor woman below. Dor. This way, sir.

Aim. Ladies, shall I beg leave for my servant to wait on you, for he understands pictures very well.

Mrs Sul. Sir, we understand originals as well as he does pictures, so he may come along. [Exeunt DORINDA, MRS SULLEN, ARCHER. AIMWELL leads DORINDA.

Enter FOIGARD and SCRUB, meeting. Foig. Save you, master Scrub!

Scrub. Sir, I won't be saved your way—I hate a priest; I abhor the French; and I defy the

Lady Boun. Lord! did you mind that, girls? Aim. Where am I?

Arch. In very good hands, sir. You were taken just now with one of your old fits, under the trees, just by this good lady's house; her ladyship had you taken in, and has miraculously brought you to yourself, as you see

the last drop of my blood to keep out popery and slavery.

Foig. Master Scrub, you would put me down in politics, and so I would be speaking with Mrs Gipsey.

Scrub. Good Mr Priest, you can't speak with her; she's sick, sir; she's gone abroad, sir; she's -dead two months ago, sir.

Enter GIPSEY.

Gip. How now, impudence! How dare you talk so saucily to the doctor? Pray, sir, don't take it ill; for the common people of England are not so civil to strangers, as

gers.

[Going.

Dor. Sir, you may catch cold by going so soon into the air; you don't look, sir, as if you were perfectly recovered.

[Here ARCHER talks to LADY BOUNTIFUL in dumb shew.]

Gip. Sirrah, I have a good mind to-Get you out, I say.

Scrub. I won't.

Gip. You won't, sauce-box-Pray, doctor, what is the captain's name that came to your inn last night?

Lady Boun. Come, sir, your servant has been telling me that you're apt to relapse, if you go into the air-Your good manners shan't get the better of ours-You shall sit down again, sir— Come, sir, we don't mind ceremonies in the country-Here, Gipsey, bring the cordial waterHere, sir, my service t'ye-You shall taste my water; 'tis a cordial, I can assure you, and of my own making. [AIMWELL drinks.] Drink it off, sir. And how d'ye find yourself now, sir? Aim. Somewhat better-though very faint still.

Lady Boun. Aye, aye; people are always faint after those fits. Come, girls, you shall shew the gentleman the house: 'tis but an old family

[Going.

Gip. What, sirrah, won't you march? Scrub. No, my dear, I won't march-but I'll walk: And I'll make bold to listen a little, too.

[Goes behind the scene, and listens. Gip. Indeed, doctor, the count has been barbarously treated, that's the truth on't.

Foig. Ah, Mrs Gipsey, upon my shoul, now gra, his complainings would mollify the marrow in your bones, and move the bowels of your commiseration; he weeps, and he dances, and he fistles, and he swears, and he laughs, and he stamps, and he sings; in conclusion, joy, he's afflicted, à la François, and a stranger would not, know whider to cry or to laugh with him.

Gip. What would you have me do, doctor?

Fog. Noting, joy, but only hide the count in Mrs Sullen's closet, when it is dark.

Gip. Nothing! Is that nothing? It would be both a sin and a shame, doctor.

Foig. Here are twenty louisdores, joy, for your shame; and I will give you an absolution for the shin.

Gip. But won't that money look like a bribe? | Foig. Dat is according as you shall tauk it.— If you receive the money before-hand, 'twill be, logice, a bribe: but if you stay till afterwards, 'twill be only a gratification.

Gip. Well, doctor, I'll take it logice. But what must I do with my conscience, sir?

Foig. Leave dat wid me, joy; I am your priest, gra; and your conscience is under my hands.

set

Gip. But should I put the count into the clo

Foig. Vell, is dere any shin for a man's being in a closhet? One may go to prayers in a closhet.

Gip. But if the lady should come into her chamber, and go to bed?

was too much a gentleman to tell.

Mrs Sul. If he were secret, I pity him. Arch. If he were successful, I envy him. Mrs Sul. How d'ye like that Venus over the chimney?

Arch. Venus! I protest, madam, I took it for your picture; but, now I look again, 'tis not handsome enough.

Mrs Sul. Oh, what a charm is flattery! If you would see my picture, there it is, over the cabinet-How d'ye like it?

Arch. I must admire any thing, madam, that has the least resemblance of you-But, methinks, madam-[He looks at the picture and MRS SULLEN, three or four times by turns.] Pray, madam, who drew it?

Mrs Sul. A famous hand, sir.

[Here AIMWELL and DORINDA go off. Arch. A famous hand, madam!-Your eyes, indeed, are featured here; but where's the sparkling moisture, shining fluid, in which they swim? The picture, indeed, has your dimples; but where's the swarm of killing Cupids that should ambush there? The lips too are figured

Gip. Aye, but if the parties should meet, doctor?

very next picture is Salmoneus, that was struck dead with lightning, for offering to imitate Jove's thunder. I hope you served the painter so,

Mrs Sul. Had my eyes the power of thunder, they should employ their lightning better. Arch. There's the finest bed in that room, madam; I suppose 'tis your ladyship's bed-chamber.

Enter SCRUB.

Scrub. What witchcraft now have these two imps of the devil been a hatching here? There's twenty louisdores; I heard that, and saw the purse: but I must give room to my betters.

Enter MRS SULLEN and ARCHER.

Mrs Sul. Pray, sir, [To ARCHER.] how d'ye like that piece?

Arch. O, 'tis Leda-You find, madam, how Jupiter came disguised to make love

Mrs Sul. Pray, sir, what head is that in the corner there?

Arch. O, madam, 'tis poor Ovid in his exile. Mrs Sul. What was he banished for? Arch. His ambitious love, madam. [Bowing.] His misfortune touches me.

Mrs Sul. Was he successful in his amours? Arch. There he has left us in the dark-He

Mrs Sul. And what then, sir?

Arch. I think the quilt is the richest that I ever saw-I can't, at this distance, madam, distinguish the figures of the embroidery. Will you give me leave, madam?

Mrs Sul. The devil take his impudenceSure, if I gave him an opportunity, he durst not be rude. I have a great mind to try[Going, returns.] 'Sdeath! what am I doing? And alone too! Sister, sister! Arch. I'll follow her close

For where a Frenchman durst attempt to storm, A Briton sure may well the work perform.

Enter SCRUB.

[Going.

Scrub. Martin! Brother Martin ! Arch. O brother Scrub, I beg your pardon, I was not a going: here's a guinea my master ordered you.

Scrub. A guinea! hi, hi, hi! a guinea! ehby this light it is a guinea; but, I suppose, you expect twenty shillings in change.

Arch. Not at all; I have another for Gipsey. Scrub. A guinea for her! Fire and faggot for the witch-Sir, give me that guinea; and I'll discover a plot.

Arch. A plot!

Scrub. Ay, sir; a plot, a horrid plot-First, it must be a plot, because there's a woman in't: secondly it must be a plot, because there's a priest in't: thirdly, it must be a plot, because there's French gold in't: and fourthly, it must be a plot, because I don't know what to make on't.

Arch. Nor any body else, I'm afraid, brother Scrub.

Scrub. Truly I'm afraid so, too; for, where there's a priest and a woman, there's always a mysstery, and a riddle-This I know, that here has been the doctor with a temptation in one hand, and an absolution in the other, and Gipsey has sold herself to the devil; I saw the price paid down; my eyes shall take their oath on't.

Arch. And is all this bustle about Gipsey? Scrub. That's not all; I could hear but a word here and there; but I remember they mentioned a count, a closet, a back-door, and a key.

Arch. The count! did you hear nothing of Mrs Sullen?

Scrub. I did hear some word that sounded that way but whether it was Sullen or Dorinda, I could not distinguish.

(

Arch. You have told this matter to nobody, brother?

Scrub. Told! No, sir, I thank you for that; I'm resolved never to speak one word, pro nor con, till we have a peace.

Arch. You're in the right, brother Scrub. Here's a treaty a-foot between the count and the lady. The priest and the chamber-maid are plenipotentiaries.—It shall go hard but I'll find a way to be included in the treaty. Where's the doctor now?

Scrub. He and Gipsey are this moment devouring my lady's marmalade in the closet. Aim. [From without.] Martin, Martin! Arch. I come, sir; I come.

Scrub. But you forget the other guinca, brother Martin.

Arch. Here, I give it with all my heart. Scrub. And I take it with all my soul. [Exeunt severally.] Ecod, I'll spoil your plotting, Mrs Gipsey and if you should set the captain upon me, these two guineas will buy me off.

:

[Exit.

Dor. O' my conscience, I fancy you could beg that fellow at the gallows foot.

Mrs Sul. O' my conscience I could, provided I could put a friend of yours in his room. Dor. You desired me, sister, to leave you, when you transgressed the bounds of honour.

Mrs Sul. Thou dear, censorious, country girl -What dost mean? You can't think of the man without the bed-fellow, I find.

Dor. I don't find any thing unnatural in that thought; while the mind is conversant with flesh and blood, it must conform to the humours of the company.

Mrs Sul. How a little love and conversation improve a woman! Why, child, you begin to live. You never spoke before.

Dor. Because I was never spoke to before: my lord has told me that I have more wit and beauty than any of the sex; and, truly, I begin to think the man is sincere.

Mrs Sul, You're in the right, Dorinda; pride is the life of a woman, and flattery is our daily bread. But I'll lay you a guinea that I had finer things said to me than you bad.

ye?

Dor. Done! What did your fellow say to

Mrs Sul. My fellow took the picture of Venus for mine.

Dor. But my lover took me for Venus herself.

Mrs Sul. Common cant! Had my spark called me a Venus directly, I should have believed him to be a footman in good earnest.

me.

Dor. But my lover was upon his knees to me. Mrs Sul. And mine was upon his tiptoes to

Dor. Mine vowed to die for me. Mrs Sul. Mine swore to die with me. Dor. Mine kissed my hand ten thousand times.

Mrs Sul. Mine has all that pleasure to come. Dor. Mine spoke the softest, moving things. Mrs Sul. Mine had his moving things, too. Dor. Mine offered marriage.

Mrs Sul. O Lard! D'ye call that a moving thing?

Dor. The sharpest arrow in his quiver, my dear sister: Why, my twenty thousand pounds may lie brooding here these seven years, and hatch nothing at last but some ill-natured clown like yours: Whereas, if I marry my lord Aimwell, there will be a title, place, and precedence, the park, the play, and the drawing-room, splendour, equipage, noise, and flambeaux-Hey! my lady Aimwell's servants there!-Lights, lights, to the stairs-My lady Aimwell's coach, put for ward!-Stand by; make room for her ladyship!Are not these things moving? What, melancholy

of a sudden !

Mrs Sul. Happy, happy, sister! Your angel has been watchful for your happiness, whilst mine has slept regardless of his charge-Long

smiling years of circling joys for you; but not one hour for me! [Weeps. Dor. Come, my dear, we'll talk on something else.

Mrs Sul. O Dorinda! I own myself a woman, full of my sex, a gentle, generous soul-easy and yielding to soft desires; a spacious heart, where love, and all his train, might lodge: And must the fair apartment of my breast be made a stable for a brute to lie in?

Dor. Meaning your husband, I suppose?

Mrs Sul. Husband! No-Even husband is too soft a name for him-But come, I expect my brother here to-night, or to-morrow: He was abroad when my father married me; perhaps he'll find a way to make me easy.

Dor. Will you promise not to make yourself easy, in the mean time, with my lord's friend?

Mrs Sul. You mistake me, sister: it happens with us, as among the men, the greatest talkers are the greatest cowards: and there's a reason for it; those spirits evaporate in prattle, which might do more mischief if they took another course- -Though, to confess the truth, I do love that fellow; and if I met him drest as he should be, and I undrest as I should beLook'e, sister, I have no supernatural gifts ;I can't swear I could resist the temptationthough I can safely promise to avoid it; and that's as much as the best of us can do.

Arch. 'Sdeath, if you love her a hair's breadth beyond discretion, you must go no farther.

Aim. Well, well, any thing to deliver us from sauntering away our idle evenings at White's, Tom's, or Will's, and be stinted to bare looking at our old acquaintance, the cards, because our impotent pockets can't afford us a guinea for the mercenary drabs; and ten thousand such rascally tricks-had we outlived our fortunes among our acquaintance--But now

Enter FOIGARD.

Foig. Save you, noble friend. Aim. O sir, your servant. Pray, doctor, may I crave your name?

Foig. Fat naam is upon me? My naam i Foigard, joy.

Aim. Foigard! a very good name for a clergyman. Pray, doctor Foigard, were you ever in Ireland?

Foig. Ireland! no, joy. Fat sort of place is dat saam Ireland? Dey say, de people are catched dere when dey are young.

Aim. And some of them here, when they are old-as for example-[Takes FOIGARD by the shoulder.]-Sir, I arrest you as a traitor against the government; you're a subject of England, and this morning shewed me a commission, by which you served as chaplain in the French army. This is death by our law, and your reverence must hang for it.

Foig. Upon my shoul, noble friend, dis is strange news you tell me; fader Foigard a subject of England! the son of a burgomaster of Brussels a subject of England! Ubooboo.

Aim. The son of a bog-trotter in Ireland! sir, your tongue will condemn you before any bench in the kingdom.

Foig. And is my tongue all your evidensh,

joy?

Aim. That's enough.

Foig. No, no, joy; for I will never speak English no more.

Aim. Sir, I have other evidence. Here, Martin, you know this fellow?

Enter ARCHER.

VOL. II.

[Exit ARCHER.

[Aside.

3S