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Tatt. Close dog! a good whoremaster, I warrant him! The time draws nigh, Jeremy. Angelica will be veiled like a nun; and I must be hooded like a friar; ha, Jeremy?

Jer. Aye, sir, hooded like a hawk, to seize at first sight upon the quarry. It is the whim of my master's madness to be so dressed; and she is so in love with him, she'll comply with any thing to please him. Poor lady! I'm sure she'll have reason to pray for me, when she finds what a happy change she has made, between a madman and so accomplished a gentleman.

Tatt. Aye, faith, so she will, Jeremy: you're a good friend to her, poor creature! I swear I do it hardly so much in consideration of myself, as compassion to her.

no; to marry is to be a child again, and play with the same rattle always: O fie, marrying is a paw thing!

Miss Prue. Well, but don't you love me as well as you did last night, then?

Tatt. No, no, child; you would not have me? Miss Prue. No? Yes, but I would though. Tatt. Pshaw, but I tell you, you would not. You forget you are a woman, and don't know your own mind.

Miss Prue. But here's my father, and he knows my mind.

Enter FORESIGHT.

Fore. O, Mr Tattle, your servant; you are a close man; but, methinks, your love to my Jer. 'Tis an act of charity, sir, to save a fine daughter was a secret I might have been trusted woman with thirty thousand pounds from throw-with-or had you a mind to try if I could dising herself away.

Tatt. So 'tis, faith! I might have saved several others in my time; but, egad, I could never find in my heart to marry any body before.

Jer. Well, sir, I'll go and tell her my master's coming; and meet you in half a quarter of an hour, with your disguise, at your own lodgings. You must talk a little madly;-she won't distinguish the tone of your voice.

Tatt. No, no, let me alone for a counterfeit. I'll be ready for you. [Exit JEREMY.

Enter Miss PRUE.

Miss Prue. O, Mr Tattle, are you here? I'm glad I have found you. I have been looking up and down for you like any thing, till I'm as tired as any thing in the world.

Tatt. O pox! how shall I get rid of this foolish girl?

[Aside.

be my

Miss Prue. O, I have pure news, I can tell you; pure news!-I must not marry the seaman now-My father says so. Why, won't you husband? You say you love me! and you won't be my husband. And I know you may be my husband now, if you please.

Tatt. O fie, miss! who told you so, child? Miss Prue. Why, my father-I told him that you loved me.

Tatt. O fie, miss! why did you do so! and who told you so, child?

Miss Prue. Who? Why, you did; did not

you?

Tatt. O pox! that was yesterday, miss; that was a great while ago, child. I have been asleep since; slept a whole night, and did not so much as dream of the matter.

Miss Prue. Pshaw! O, but I dreamt that it was so though.

Tatt. Ay, but your father will tell you that dreams come by contraries, child. O fie! what, we must not love one another now. Pshaw, that would be a foolish thing, indeed! Fie, fie! you're a woman now, and must think of a new man every morning, and forget him every night. No,

cover it by my art?-Hum, ha! I think there is something in your physiognomy, that has a resemblance of her; and the girl is like me.

Tatt. And so you would infer, that you and I are alike? What does the old prig mean? I'll banter him, and laugh at him, and leave him. Aside.] I fancy you have a wrong notion of faces.

Fore. How? what? a wrong notion! how so? Tatt. In the way of art, I have some taking features, not obvious to vulgar eyes, that are indication of a sudden turn of good fortune, in the lottery of wives; and promise a great beauty and great fortune reserved alone for me, by a private intrigue of destiny, kept secret from the piercing eye of perspicuity, from all astrologers, and the stars themselves.

Fore. How? I will make it appear, that what you say is impossible.

sir.

Tatt. Sir, I beg your pardon, I am in haste—
Fore. For what?

Tatt. To be married, sir-married.
Fore. Ay, but pray, take me along with you,

Tatt. No, sir; it is to be done privately-I never make confidents.

Fore. Well; but my consent, I mean-You won't marry my daughter without my consent? Tatt. Who, I, sir? I am an absolute stranger to you and your daughter, sir.

Fore. Hey-day! What time of the moon is this?

Tatt. Very true, sir; and desire to continue so. I have no more love for your daughter, than I have likeness of you and I have a secret in my heart, which you would be glad to know, and shan't know: and yet you shall know it too, and be sorry for it afterwards. I'd have you know, sir, that I am as knowing as the stars, and as secret as the night. And I'm going to be married just now, yet, did not know of it half an hour ago; and the lady stays for me, and does not know of it yet. There's a mystery for you! I know you love to untie difficulties. Or, if you

can't solve this; stay here a quarter of an hour, | Leghorn, and back again, before you shall guess and I'll come and explain it to you. [Erit. at the matter, and do nothing else. Mess, you Miss Prue. O, father! why will you let him may take in all the points of the compass, and go? Won't you make him to be my husband? not hit the right. Fore. Mercy on us! what do these lunacies tend? Alas! he's mad, child, stark wild.

por

Miss Prue. What, and must not I have e'er a husband, then? What, must I go to bed to nurse again, and be a child as long as she's an old woman? Indeed, but I won't. For, now my mind is set upon a man, I will have a man some way or other.

Fore. O fearful! I think the girl's influenced, too. Hussy, you shall have a rod.

Miss Prue. A fiddle of a rod! I'll have a husband; and, if you won't get me one, I'll get one for myself. I'll marry our Robin the butler; he says he loves me and he's a handsome man, and shall be my husband: I warrant he'll be my husband, and thank me, too; for he told me so. Enter SCANDAL, MRS FORESIGHT, and NURSE. Fore. Did he so? I'll dispatch him for it presently. Rogue! Oh, nurse, come hither.

Nurse. What is your worship's pleasure? Fore. Here, take your young mistress, and lock her up presently, till farther orders from me. Not a word, hussy-Do what I bid you. No reply away. And bid Robin make ready to give an account of his plate and linen, dy'e hear? Begone, when I bid you.

[Exeunt NURSE and MISS PRUE. Mrs Fore. What's the matter, husband? Fore. 'Tis not convenient to tell you nowMr Scandal, Heaven keep us all in our senses! I fear there is a contagious frenzy abroad. How does Valentine?

Scand. O, I hope he will do well again. I have a message from him to your niece Ange

lica.

Fore. I think she has not returned since she went abroad with sir Sampson. Nurse, why are you not gone?

Enter BEN.

Here's Mr Benjamin; he can tell us if his father be come home.

Ben. Who? Father? Ay, he's come home with

a vengeance.

Mrs Fore. Why, what's the matter?
Ben. Matter! Why, he's mad.

Fore. Mercy on us! I was afraid of this. Ben. And there's a handsome young woman; she, as they say, brother Val went mad for, she's mad, too, I think.

Fore. O, my poor niece! my poor niece! is she gone, too? Well, I shall run mad next. Mrs Fore. Well, but how mad? how d'ye mean?

Ben. Nay, I'll give you leave to guess-I'll undertake to make a voyage to Antigua-No, I mayn't say so, neither-but I'll sail as far as

Mrs Fore. Your experiment will take up a little too much time.

Ben. Why, then, I'll tell you: there's a new wedding upon the stocks, and they two are going to be married to rights.

Scand. Who?

Ben. Why, father, and—the young woman. I can't hit her name.

Scand. Angelica?

Ben. Ay, the same.

Mrs Fore. Sir Sampson and Angelica? Impossible!

Ben. That may be—but I'm sure it is as I tell you.

Scand. 'Sdeath, it is a jest. I can't believe it. Ben. Look you, friend; it is nothing to me, whether you believe it or no. What I say is true, d'ye see; they are married, or just going to be married, I know not which.

Fore. Well, but they are not mad, that is, not lunatic?

Ben. I don't know what you may call madness-but she's mad for a husband, and he's hornmad, I think, or they'd never make a match together. Here they come.

Enter SIR SAMPSON, ANGELICA, and BUCKRAM.

Sir Sam. Where is this old soothsayer? this uncle of mine elect?-Aha! old Foresight! uncle Foresight! wish me joy, uncle Foresight, double joy, both as uncle and astrologer: here's a conjunction that was not foretold in all your Ephemeres! The brightest star in the blue firmament-is shot from above, in a jelly of love, and so forth; and I'm lord of the ascendant. Odd, you're an old fellow, Foresight-uncle, I mean; a very old fellow, uncle Foresight, and yet you shall live to dance at my wedding; faith and troth you shall. Odd, we'll have the music of the spheres for thee, old Lilly, that we will; and thou shalt lead up a dance in via lactea.

Fore. I'm thunder-struck! You are not married to my niece?

Sir Sam. Not absolutely married, uncle; but very near it; within a kiss of the matter, as you [Kisses ANGELICA, Ang. 'Tis very true, indeed, uncle; I hope you'll be my father, and give me.

see.

Sir Sam. That he shall, or I'll burn his globes. Body o'me, he shall be thy father: I'll make him thy father, and thou shalt make me a father, and I'll make thee a mother; and we'll beget sons and daughters enough to put the weekly bills out of countenance.

Scand. Death and hell! Where's Valentine?

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prising, aunt? not at all, for a young couple to make a match in winter! Not at all-It's a plot to undermine cold weather, and destroy that usurper of a bed called a warming-pan. Mrs Fore. I'm glad to hear you have so much fire in you, sir Sampson.

Ben. Mess, I fear his fire's little better than tinder; mayhap it will only serve to light a match for somebody else. The young woman's a handsome young woman, I can't deny it: but, father, if I might be your pilot in this case, you should not marry her. It is just the same thing as if so you should sail as far as the Streights without provision.

Sir Sam. Who gave you authority to speak, sirrah? To your element, fish; be mute, fish, and to sea. Rule your helm, sirrah; don't di

rect me.

Ben. Well, well, take you care of your own helm; or you mayn't keep your new vessel steady.

Sir Sam. Why, you impudent tarpawlin! sirrah, do you bring your forecastle jests upon your father? But I shall be even with you; I won't give you a groat. Mr Buckram, is the conveyance so worded, that nothing can possibly descend to this scoundrel? I would not so much as have him have the prospect of an estate, though there were no way to come to it, but by the northeast passage.

Buck. Sir, it is drawn according to your directions; there is not the least cranny of the law unstopt.

Ben. Lawyer, I believe there's many a cranny and leak unstopt in your conscience! If so be that one had a pump to your bosom, I believe we should discover a foul hold. They say, a witch will sail in a sieve-but, I believe the devil would not venture aboard your conscience. And that's for you.

Sir Sam. Hold your tongue, sirrah. How now? who's here?

Enter TATTLE, and MRS FRAIL.

Ang. But I believe Mr Tattle meant the favour to me; I thank him.

Tatt. I did, as I hope to be saved, madam; my intentions were good. But this is the most cruel thing, to marry, one does not know how, nor why, nor wherefore. The devil take me, if ever I was so much concerned at any thing in my life!

Ang. 'Tis very unhappy, if you don't care for one another.

Tatt. The least in the world—that is, for my part, I speak for myself. Gad, I never had the least thought of serious kindness—I never liked any body less in my life. Poor woman! Gad, I'm sorry for her, too; for I have no reason to hate her neither; but, I believe I shall lead her a damned sort of a life.

Mrs Fore. He's better than no husband at all—though he's a coxcomb. [TO FRAIL Mrs Frail. [To her.] Ay, ay, it's well it's no worse. Nay, for my part, I always despised Mr Tattle of all things; nothing but his being my husband could have made me like him less.

Tatt. Look you there, I thought as much! Pox on't, I wish we could keep it secret! why, I don't believe any of this company would speak of it.

Ben. If you suspect me, friend, I'll go out of the room.

Mrs Frail. But, my dear, that's impossible; the parson and that rogue Jeremy will publish

it..

Tatt. Ay, my dear, so they will, as you say. Ang. O, you'll agree very well in a little time; custom will make it easy for you.

Tatt. Easy! Pox on't, I don't believe I shall sleep to-night.

Sir Sam. Sleep, quotha! No; why, you would not sleep on your wedding-night? I'm an older fellow than you, and don't mean to sleep.

Ben. Why, there's another match, now, as thof a couple of privateers were looking for a prize, and should fall foul of one another. I'm sorry for the young man with all my heart. Look you, friend, if I may advise you, when she's going

Mrs Frail. O, sister, the most unlucky acci- for that you must expect, I have experience of dent!

Mrs Fore. What's the matter?

her-when she's going, let her go. For no matrimony is tough enough to hold her; and if she

Tatt. O, the two most unfortunate poor crea- can't drag her anchor along with her, she'll break tures in the world we are!

Fore. Bless us! how so?

Mrs Frail. Ah! Mr Tattle and I, poor Mr Tattle and I are-I can't speak it out. Tatt. Nor I-But poor Mrs Frail and I

are

Mrs Frail. Married.

Fore. Married! How?

Tatt. Suddenly- -before we knew where we were-that villain Jeremy, by the help of disguises, tricked us into one another.

Fore. Why, you told me just now, you went hence in haste to be married!

her cable, I can tell you that. Who's here? the madman?

Enter VALENTINE, SCANDAL, and JEREMY. Val. No; here's the fool; and, if occasion be, I'll give it under my hand.

Sir Sam. How now? Val. Sir, I'm come to acknowledge my errors, and ask your pardon.

Sir Sam. What! have you found your senses at last, then? In good time, sir.

Val. You were abused, sir; I never was dis tracted.

Fore. How? not mad! Mr Scandal? Scand. No, really, sir; I'm his witness, it was all counterfeit.

Val. I thought I had reasons-but it was a poor contrivance: the effect has shewn it such. Sir Sam. Contrivance! what, to cheat me? to cheat your father! Sirrah, could you hope to prosper?

Val. Indeed, I thought, sir, when the father endeavoured to undo the son, it was a reasonable return of nature.

Sir Sam. Very good, sir. Mr Buckram, are you ready? Come, sir, will you sign and seal? Val. If you please, sir; but, first, I would ask this lady one question.

Sir Sam. Sir, you must ask me leave firstThat lady! No, sir; you shall ask that lady no questions, till you have asked her blessing, sir; that lady is to be my wife.

Val. I have heard as much, sir; but I would have it from her own mouth.

Sir Sam. That's as much as to say I lie, sir, and you don't believe what I say?

Val. Pardon me, sir. But I reflect that I very lately counterfeited madness: I don't know but the frolic may go round.

Sir Sam. Come, chuck, satisfy him, answer him. Come, Mr Buckram, the pen and ink. Buck. Here it is, sir, with the deed; all is ready. [VAL. goes to ANG. Ang. 'Tis true, you have a great while pretended love to me; nay, what if you were sincere? Still you must pardon me, if I think my own inclinations have a better right to dispose of my person, than yours.

Sir Sam. Are you answered now, sir?
Val. Yes, sir.

Sir Sam. Where's your plot, sir? and your contrivance now, sir? Will you sign, sir? Come, will you sign and seal?

Val. With all my heart, sir.

Scand. 'Sdeath, you are not mad, indeed? to ruin yourself?

Val. I have been disappointed of my only hope; and he that loses hope may part with any thing. I never valued fortune, but as it was subservient to my pleasure; and my only pleasure was to please this lady: I have made many vain | attempts; and find, at last, that nothing but my ruin can effect it; which, for that reason, I will sign to. Give me the paper.

Ang. Generous Valentine!
Buck. Here is the deed, sir.

[Aside.

Val. But where is the bond, by which I am obliged to sign this?

Buck. Sir Sampson, you have it. Ang. No, I have it; and I'll use it, as I would every thing that is an enemy to Valentine. [Tears the paper.

Sir Sam. How now? Val. Ha!

Ang. Had I the world to give you, it could VOL. II.

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not make me worthy of so generous and faithful a passion. Here's my hand; my heart was always yours, and struggled very hard to make this utmost trial of your virtue. [To VALENTINE, Val. Between pleasure and amazement, I am lost-but, on my knees, I take the blessing.

Sir Sam. Oons, what is the meaning of this? Ben, Mass, here's the wind changed again— Father, you and I may make a voyage together, now!

Ang. Well, sir Samson, since I have played you a trick, I'll advise you how you may avoid such another. Learn to be a good father, or you'll never get a second wife. I always loved your son, and hated your unforgiving nature. I was resolved to try him to the utmost; I have tried you, too, and know you both. You have not more faults than he has virtues; and it is hardly more pleasure to me, that I can make him and myself happy, than that I can punish

you.

Sir Sam. Oons, you are a crocodile,

Fore. Really, sir Sampson, this is a sudden eclipse.

Sir Sam. You're an illiterate old fool; and I'm another.

Tatt. If the gentleman is in disorder for want of a wife, I can spare him mine. Oh, are you there, sir? I am indebted to you for my happi[TO JEREMY.

ness.

Jer. Sir, I ask you ten thousand pardons: it was an arrant mistake. You see, sir, my master was never mad, nor any thing like it. Then, how can it be otherwise?

Val. Tattle, I thank you; you would have interposed between me and Heaven; but Providence laid purgatory in your way. You have but justice.

Scand. I hear the fiddles that sir Sampson provided for his own wedding; methinks it is pity they should not be employed when the match is so much mended. Valentine, though it be morning, we may have a dance.

Val. Any thing, my friend; every thing that looks like joy and transport.

Scand. Call them, Jeremy.

Ang. I have done dissembling now, Valentine; and if that coldness, which I have always worn before you, should turn to an extreme fondness, you must not suspect it.

Val. I'll prevent that suspicion-for I intend to doat to that immoderate degree, that your fondness shall never distinguish itself enough to be taken notice of. If ever you seem to love too much, it must be only when I cannot love enough.

Ang. Have a care of promises: you know you are apt to run more in debt than you are able to pay.

Val. Therefore, I yield my body as your pri soner, and make your best on't. Scand. [To ANGELICA.] Well, madam, you

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have done exemplary justice, in punishing an inhuman father, and rewarding a faithful lover :but there is a third good work, which I, in particular, must thank you for: I was an infidel to your sex, and you have converted me-for now I am convinced, that all women are not, like for tune, blind in bestowing favours, either on those who do not merit, or who do not want them.

Ang. It is an unreasonable accusation, that you lay upon our sex. You tax us with injustice, only to cover your own want of merit. You would all have the reward of love; but few have

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