Ang. What, are you setting up for good nature? Scand. Only for the affectation of it, as the women do for ill-nature. Ang. Persuade your friend that it is all affectation. Miss, miss, miss Prue!-Mercy on me, marry, and amen!-Why, what's become of the child? -Why, miss, miss Foresight!-Sure she has locked herself up in her chamber, and gone to Scand. I shall receive no benefit from the opisleep, or to prayers!--Miss, miss!--I hear her. nion: for I know no effectual difference between Come to your father, child. Open the door-continued affectation and reality. Open the door, miss. I hear you cry husht— O Lord, who's there? [Peeps.]—What's here to do? O the Father! a man with her!-Why, miss, I say; God's my life! here's fine doings towards-O Lord, we're all undone !-O you young harlotry!-[Knocks.]-Ods my life, won't you open the door? I'll come in the back way. Enter SIR SAMPSON, MRS FRAIL, MISS PRUE, and Servant. Sir Sam. Is Ben come? Odso, my son Ben come? Odd, I'm glad on't. Where is he? I long to see him. Now, Mrs Frail, you shall see my son Ben. Body o'me, he's the hopes of my fa[Exit.mily--I ha'nt seen him these three years---I warrant he's grown!--Call him in; bid him make haste-Exit Servant.]---I'm ready to cry for joy. Mrs Frail. Now, miss, you shall see your Enter TATTLE and MISS PRUE. Miss Prue. O Lord, she's coming-and she'll tell my father. What shall I do now? Tatt. Pox take her! if she had staid two minutes longer, I should have wished for her coming. hus band. Miss Prue. O dear, what shall I say? tell me, that to me-I'll beckon Mr Tattle to us. Tatt. There's no occasion for a lie: I could never tell a lie to no purpose---But, since we have done nothing, we must say nothing, I think. I hear her--I'll leave you together, and come off as you can. [Thrusts her in, and shuts the door. Enter VALENTINE, SCANDAL, and ANGELICA. Ang. You can't accuse me of inconstancy; I never told you that I loved you. Val. But I can accuse you of uncertainty, for not telling me whether you did or not. Ang. You mistake indifference for uncertainty; I never had concern enough to ask myself the question. Be Ang. Won't you stay and see your brother? Val. We are the twin stars, and cannot shine in one sphere; when he rises, I must set. sides, if I should stay, I don't know but my father, in good-nature, may press me to the immediate signing the deed of conveyance of my estate; and I'll defer it as long as I can. Well, you'll come to a resolution? Ang. I cannot. Resolution must come to me, or I shall never have one. Scand. Come, Valentine, I'll go with you; I have something in my head to communicate to you. [Exeunt SCANDAL and VALENTINE. Sir Samp. What! is my son Valentine gone? What is he sneaked off, and would not see his Scand. Nor good-nature enough to answer brother? There's an unnatural whelp! there's an him that did ask you: I'll say that for you, ma-ill-natured dog! What! were you here, too, madam. dam, and could not keep him? could neither Sir Sam. No, I intend you shall marry, Ben; I would not marry, for thy sake. love, nor duty, nor natural affection, oblige him? | have a many questions to ask you; well, you Odsbud, madam, have no more to say to him; ben't married again, father, be you? he is not worth your consideration. The rogue has not a drachm of generous love about himall interest, all interest! He's an undone scoundrel, and courts your estate. Body o'me, he does not care a doit for your person. Ang. I am pretty even with him, sir Sampson; for, if ever I could have liked any thing in him, it should have been his estate, too. But, since that's gone, the bait's off, and the naked hook appears. Sir Sam. Odsbud, well spoken; and you are a wiser woman than I thought you were: for most young women now-a-days are to be tempted with a naked hook. Ang. If I marry, sir Sampson, I am for a good estate with any man, and for any man with a good estate: therefore, if I were obliged to make a choice, I declare I'd rather have you than your son. Ben. Nay, what does that signify? An you marry again-why, then, I'll go to sea again; so there's one for t'other, and that be all. Pray, don't let me be your hindrance; e'en marry, a God's name, and the wind sit that way. As for my part, mayhap I have no mind to marry. Mrs Frail. That would be pity, such a handsome young gentleman! Ben. Handsome! he, he, he! Nay, forsooth, an you be for joking, I'll joke with you; for Í love my jest, an the ship were sinking, as we said at sea. But I'll tell you why I don't much stand towards matrimony. I love to roam from port to port, and from land to land: I could never abide to be port-bound, as we call it. Now a man that is married has, as it were, d'ye see, his feet in the bilboes, and mayhap may'nt get them out a Sir Sam. Ben is a wag! Ben. A man that is married, d'ye see, is no more like another man, than a galley-slave is like one of us free sailors: he is chained to an oar all his life; and mayhap forced to tug a leaky Sir Sam. Faith and troth, you are a wise wo-gain when he would. man; and I'm glad to hear you say so. I was afraid you were in love with a reprobate. Odd, I was sorry for you with all my heart. Hang him, mongrel! cast him off. You shall see the rogue shew himself, and make love to some desponding Cadua of fourscore for sustenance.-vessel into the bargain. Odd, I love to see a young spendthrift forced to cling to an old woman for support, like ivy roundly a dead oak-faith, I do. I love to see them hug and cotton together, like down upon a thistle. Enter BEN and Servant. Ben. Where's father? Ser. There, sir; his back's toward you. [Exit. Sir Sam. My son Ben! Bless thee, dear boy! Body o' me, thou art heartily welcome. Ben. Thank you, father; and I'm glad to see you. Sir Sam. Odsbud, and I'm glad to see thee.Kiss me, boy; kiss me again and again, dear Ben. [Kisses him. Mess, I'd rather Ben. So, so, enough, father. kiss these gentlewomen. Sir Sam. And so thou shalt. my son Ben. Mrs Angelica, Ben. Forsooth, if you please! [Salutes her.] Nay, mistress, I'm not for dropping anchor here; about ship, i' faith. [Kisses FRAIL.] Nay, and you, too, my little cock-boat! so. [Kisses Miss. Tatt. Sir, you're welcome ashore. Ben. Thank you, thank you, friend. Ben. Ey, ey, been? been far enough, and that be all. Well, father, and how do all at home? how does brother Dick, and brother Val? Sir Sam. Dick! body o'me, Dick has been dead these two years. I writ you word, when you were at Leghorn. Ben. Mass, that's true: marry, I had forgot. Dick is dead, as you say. Well, and how--1 Sir Sam. A very wag! Ben is a very wag! ona little rough; he wants a little polishing. Mrs Frail. Not at all; I like his humour mightily it is plain and honest; I should like such a humour in a husband extremely. : Ben. Say'n you so, forsooth? Marry, and I should like such a handsome gentlewoman for a bed-fellow hugely. How say you, mistress?would you like a going to sea? Mess, you're a a tight vessel, and well-rigged, an you were but as well manned. Mrs Frail. I should not doubt that, if you were master of me. Ben. But I'll tell you one thing, an you come to sea in a high wind, or that lady-you may'nt carry so much sail o'your head-Top and top gallant, by the mess! Mrs Frail. No? why so? Ben. Why, an you do, you may run the risk to be overset: and then you'll carry your keels above water-he, he, he! Ang. I swear, Mr Benjamin is the veriest wag in nature; an absolute sea wit. Sir Sam. Nay, Ben has parts; but, as I told you before, they want a little polishing. You must not take any thing ill, madam. Ben. No, I hope the gentlewoman is not angry; I mean all in good part: for, if I give a jest, I'll take a jest; and so, forsooth, you may be as free with me. Ang. I thank you, sir; I am not at all offended. But, methinks, sir Sampson, you should leave him alone with his mistress. Mr Tattle, we must not hinder lovers. Tatt. Well, miss, I have your promise. [Aside to Miss. Sir Sam. Body o'me, madam, you say true.— Look you, Ben, this is your mistress. Come, miss, you must not be shame-faced; we'll leave you together. Miss Prue. I can't abide to be left alone.Mayn't my cousin stay with me ? Sir Sam. No, no. Come, let's away. Ben. Look you, father, mayhap the young woman mayn't take a liking to me. Come, come, Sir Sam. I warrant thee, boy. we'll be gone. I'll venture that. [Ereunt SIR SAMPSON, TATTLE, and Mrs FRAIL. Ben. Come, mistress, will you please to sit down? For, an you stand astern a that'n, we shall never grapple together. Come, I'll hawl a chair; there, an you please to sit, I'll sit by you. Miss Prue. You need not sit so near one; if you have any thing to say, I can hear you farther off; I an't deaf. Ben. Why that's true, as you say, nor I an't dumb; I can be heard as far as another. I'll heave off, to please you. [Sits farther off]An we were a league asunder, I'd undertake to hold discourse with you, an 'twere not a main high wind, indeed, and full in my teeth. Look you, forsooth; I am, as it were, bound for the land of matrimony: 'tis a voyage, d'ye see, that was none of my seeking; I was commanded by father, and if you like it, mayhap I may steer into your harbour. How say you, mistress? The short of the thing is, that if you like me, and I like you, we may chance to swing in a hammock together. never will, that's more. So, there's your answer for you; and don't trouble me no more, you ugly thing. Ben. Look you, young woman, you may learn to give good words, however. I spoke you fair, d'ye see, and civil. As for your love, or your liking, I don't value it of a rope's end-and mayhap I like you as little as you do me. What I said was in obedience to father. Gad, I fear a whipping no more than you do. But I tell you one thing-if you should give such language at sea, you'd have a cat o' nine tails laid across your shoulders. Flesh! who are you? You heard the other handsome young woman speak civilly to me, of her own accord. Whatever you think of yourself, Gad, I don't think you are any more to compare to her, than a can of small-beer to a bowl of punch. Miss Prue. Well, and there's a handsome gentleman, and a fine gentleman, and a sweet gentleman, that was here, that loves me, and I love him; and, if he sees you speak to me any more, he'll thrash your jacket for you; he will, you great sea-calf. Ben. What do you mean that fair-weather spark that was here just now? Will he thrash my jacket? Let'n---let'n. But an' he comes near me, mayhap I may giv'n a salt eel for's supper, for all that. What does father mean, to leave me alone, as soon as I come home, with such a dirty dowdy? Sea calf! I an't calf enough to lick your chalked face, you cheese-curd, you, Marry thee! 'Oons, I'll marry a Lapland witch as soon, and live upon selling contrary winds, and wrecked vessels. Miss Prue. I won't be called names, nor I won't be abused thus, so I won't. If I were a Miss Prue. I don't know what to say to you, man-- [Cries.]--you durst not talk at this rate-nor I don't care to speak with you at all. no, you durst not, you stinking tar-barrel. Ben. No! I am sorry for that. But, pray, why are you so scornful? Miss Prue. As long as one must not speak one's mind, one had better not speak at all, I think; and truly I won't tell a lie for the matter. Ben. Nay, you say true in that; it's but a folly to lie for to speak one thing, and to think just the contrary way, is, as it were, to look one way, and to row another. Now, for my part, d'ye see, I'm for carrying things above board;I'm not for keeping any thing under hatchesso that, if you ben't as willing as I, say so, a God's name; there's no harm done. Mayhap, you may be shame-faced; some maidens, though they love a man well enough, yet they don't care to tell'n so to's face. If that's the case, why silence gives consent. Miss Prue. But I'm sure it is not so, for I'll speak sooner than you should believe that; and I'll speak truth, though one should always tell a lie to a man; and I don't care, let my father do what he will, I'm too big to be whipt; so I'll tell you plainly, I don't like you, nor love you at all; nor VOL. II. Enter MRS FORESIGHT and MRS FRAIL. Mrs Fore. They have quarrelled, just as we could wish. Ben. Tar-barrel! Let your sweetheart there, call me so, if he'll take your part, your Tom Essence, and I'll say something to him---Gad, I'll lace his musk-doublet for him. I'll make him stink; he shall smell more like a weasel than a civet cat, afore I ha' done with 'en. Mrs Fore. Bless me! what's the matter, miss? What, does she cry? Mr Benjamin, what have you done to her? Ben. Let her cry: the more she cries, the less she'll---she has been gathering foul weather in her mouth, and now it rains out at her eyes. Mrs Fore. Come, miss, come along with me; and tell me, poor child. Mrs Frail. Lord, what shall we do? There's my brother Foresight and sir Sampson coming. Sister, do you take miss down into the parlour, and I'll carry Mr Benjamin into my chamber; 2 P for they must not know that they are fallen out. I [Exeunt. Enter SIR SAMPSON and FORESIGHT. Sir Sam. I left them together here. What, are they gone? Ben is a brisk boy: he has got her into a corner-father's own son, faith! be'll touzle her, and mouzle her. The rogue's sharp set coming from sea. If he should not stay for saying grace, old Foresight, but fall to without the help of a parson, ha? Odd, if he should, I could not be angry with him; 'twould be but like me, a chip of the old block. Ha! thou art melancholic, old prognostication; as melancholic as if thou hadst spilt the salt, or paired thy nails on a Sunday. Come, cheer up, look about thee: look up, old star-gazer. Now is he poring upon the ground for a crooked pin, or an old horsenail, with the head towards him. Fore. Sir Sampson, we'll have the wedding tomorrow morning. Sir Sam. With all my heart. Fore. At ten o'clock; punctually at ten. Sir Sam. To a minute, to a second; thou shalt set thy watch, and the bridegroom shall observe its motions; they shall be married to a minute, go to bed to a minute; and, when the alarm strikes, they shall keep time like the figures of St Dunstan's clock, and consummatum est shall ring all over the parish! Enter Servant. Ser. Sir, Mr Scandal desires to speak with you upon earnest business. Fore. I go to him; sir Sampson, your servant. [Exit FORESIGHT. Sir Sam. What's the matter, friend? Ser. Sir, 'tis about your son Valentine; something has appeared to him in a dream, that makes him prophecy. Enter SCANDAL, Scand. Sir Sampson, sad news. Sir Sam. Why, what's the matter? don't know what it may come to-but it has had Sir Sam. Hoity toity! what have I to do with his dreams or his divination? body o' me, this is a trick, to defer signing the conveyance. I warrant the devil will tell him in a dream, that he must not part with his estate. But I'll bring him a parson to tell him that the devil's a liar-or, if that won't do, I'll bring a lawyer, that shall outie the devil; and so I'll try whether my blackguard, or his, shall get the better of the day. [Erit SIR SAMPSON, Scand. Alas! Mr Foresight, I am afraid all is not right. You are a wise man, and a conscientious man; a searcher into obscurity and futurity; and, if you commit an error, it is with a great deal of consideration, and discretion, and caution. Fore. Ah, good Mr Scandal! Scand. Nay, nay, 'tis manifest; I do not flatter you. But sir Sampson is hasty, very hastyI'm afraid he is not scrupulous enough, Mr Foresight. He has been wicked; and Heaven grant he may mean well in this affair with you! but my mind gives me, these things cannot be wholly insignificant. You are wise, and should not be over-reached: methinks you should not. Fore. Alas, Mr Scandal-Humanum est errare! Scand. You say true, man will err; mere man will err: but you are something more. There have been wise men; but they were such as you -men who consuited the stars, and were observers of omens. Solomon was wise; but how? by his judgment in astrology. So says Pineda, in his third book, and eighth chapter. Fore. You are learned, Mr Scandal, Scand. A trifler-but a lover of art. And the wise men of the east owed their instructions to a star; which is rightly observed by Gregory the Great, in favour of astrology. And Albertus Magnus makes it the most valuable science-because, says he, it teaches us to consider the cau Sir Sam. Body o' me! I don't know any uni-sation of causes, in the causes of things. versal grievance, but a new tax, or the loss of the Canary fleet-unless popery should be landed in the west, or the French fleet were at anchor at Blackwall. Scand. No! undoubtedly, Mr Foresight knew all this, and might have prevented it. Fore. 'Tis no earthquake? Fore. I protest, I honour you, Mr Scandal. I did not think you had been read in these matters. Few young men are inclined Scand. I thank my stars that have inclined me. But I fear this marriage, and making over the estate, this transferring of a rightful inheritance, will bring judgments upon us. I propheScand. No, not yet; no whirlwind. But we cy it; and I would not have the fate of Cassan dra, not to be believed. Valentine is disturbed; | him out of the way, that I might have an opporwhat can be the cause of that? and sir Sampson tunity of waiting upon you. is hurried on by an unusual violence-I fear he does not act wholly from himself; and, methinks, he does not look as he used to do. Fore. He was always of an impetuous nature. But, as to this marriage, I have consulted the stars; and all appearances are prosperous. Scand. Come, come, Mr Foresight; let not the prospect of worldly lucre carry you beyond your judgment, nor against your conscience. You are not satisfied that you act justly. Fore. How! [Whisper. FORESIGHT looking in the glass. Fore. I do not see any revolution here. Methinks I look with a serene and benign aspectpale, a little pale-but the roses of these cheeks have been gathered many years-ha! I do not like that sudden flushing- -gone already! hem, hem, hem! faintish. My heart is pretty good; yet it beats and my pulses, ha! I have nonemercy on me!-hum!-Yes, here they are.-Gallop, gallop, gallop, gallop, gallop, gallop! hey, whither will they hurry me? now they're gone Scand. You are not satisfied, I say. I am loth again-and now I'm faint again; and pale again, to discourage you—but it is palpable that not satisfied. you are Fore. How does it appear, Mr Scandal? 1 think I am very well satisfied. Scand. Either you suffer yourself to deceive yourself, or you do not know yourself. Fore. Pray explain yourself. Scand. Do you sleep well o' nights? Scand. Are you certain? you do not look so. Scand. So was Valentine this morning; and looked just so. Fore. How! Am I altered any way? I don't perceive it. Scand. That may be; but your beard is longer than it was two hours ago. Fore. Indeed? bless ine! Enter MRS FORESIGHT. Mrs Fore. Husband, will you go to bed? it's ten o'clock. Mr Scandal, your servant. and, hem and my, hem !--breath, and, hem!— grows short; hem! he, he, hem! Scand. It takes! pursue it, in the name of love and pleasure. Mrs Fore. How do you do, Mr Foresight? Scand. Look you there, now. your sleep has been unquiet of late. Mrs Fore. O, mighty restless! but I was afraid to tell him so. He has been subject to talking and starting. Scand. And did not use to be so? Mrs Fore. Never, never; till within these three nights, I cannot say that he has once broken my rest since we have been married. Fore. I will go to bed. Scand. Do so, Mr Foresight, and say your prayers-He looks better than he did. Mrs Fore. Nurse, nurse! Fore. Do you think so, Scandal? Scand. Yes, yes; I hope this will be gone by Fore. I hope so. Scand. Pox on her, she has interrupted my de-morning: take it in time. sign-but I must work her into the project. You keep early hours, madam. Mrs Fore. M Foresight is punctual; we sit up after him. Fore. My dear, pray lend me your glass, your little looking-glass. Scand. Pray lend it him, madam-I'll tell you the reason--[She gives him the glass: SCANDAL and she whisper-my passion for you is grown so violent, that I am no longer master of myself; I was interrupted in the morning, when you had charity enough to give me your attention; and I had hopes of finding another opportunity of explaining myself to you-but was disappointed all this day; and the uneasiness that has attended me ever since, brings me now hither at this unseasonable hour. Mrs Fore. Was there ever such impudence, to make love to me before my husband's face? I'll swear I'll tell him. Scand. Do. I'll die a martyr rather than disclaim my passion. But come a little farther this way; and I'll tell you what project I had to get Enter NURSE. Mrs Fore. Nurse, your master is not well; put him to bed. Scand. I hope you will be able to see Valentine in the morning. You had best take a little diacodium and cowslip water, and lie upon your back; may be you may dream. Fore. I thank you, Mr Scandal; I will. Nurse, let me have a watch-light, and lay the Crumbs of Comfort by me. Nurse. Yes, sir. [Exit. Fore. And-hem, hem! I am very faint. Scand. No, no, you look much better. Fore. Do I? And I hope, neither the lord of my ascendant, nor the moon, will be combust; and then, I may do well. Scand. I hope so-Leave that to me; I will erect a scheme; and, I hope I shall find both Sol and Venus in the sixth house. Fore. I thank you, Mr Scandal; indeed, that |