you give yourself to the world, I'm sure your heart don't want good-nature.

[Exeunt arm in arm.

Sir Cha. Three parties.

Lord More. Fifteen pounds-very well. [While LORD MORELOVE counts out his money, a servant gives SIR CHARLES a letter, which he reads to himself.]

Sir Cha. [To the Servant:]-Give my service; say I have company dines with me; if I have time I'll call there in the afternoon-ha, ha, ha !

[Exit Servant. Lord More. What's the matter? there[Paying the

money. Sir Cha. The old affair-my lady Graveairs. Lord More. Oh! Prithee, how does that go on?

Sir Cha. As agreeably as a chancery suit: for now it comes to the intolerable plague of my not being able to get rid on't; as you may see[Giving the letter. Lord More. [Reads.] Your behaviour, since "I came to Windsor, has convinced me of your villainy, without my being surprised, or angry at ' it. I desire you would let me see you at my 'lodgings immediately, where I shall have a better opportunity to convince you, that I never can, or positively will, be as I have been. Yours,' &c. A very whimsical letter! Faith, I think she has hard luck with you: if a man were obliged to have a mistress, her person and condition seem to be cut out for the ease of a lover: for she's a young, handsome, wild, well-jointured widow-But what's your quarrel?

Sir Cha. Treat her with a cold familiar air, till I pique her to forbid me her sight, and then take her at her word.

Lord More. Very gallant and provoking.
Enter a Servant.

Ser. Sir, my lord Foppington

[Erit Servant. Sir Cha. Oh-now, my lord, if you have a mind to be let into the mystery of making love without pain, here's one that's a master of the art, and shall declaim to you————

Enter LORD FOPPINGTON.

My dear lord Foppington!

brasse! Pardi! Il y a cent ans que je ne t'ai vu Lord Fop. My dear agreeable! Que je t'em-my lord, I am your lordship's most obedient humble servant.

Lord More. My lord, I kiss your hands-I hope we shall have you here some time; you seem to have laid in a stock of health to be in at the diversions of the place-You look extremely well.

Lord Fop. To see one's friends look so, my lord, may easily give a vermeille to one's complexion.

Sir Cha. Lovers in hope, my lord, always have a visible brilliant in their eyes and air.

Lord Fop. What dost thou mean, Charles? Sir Cha. Come, come, confess what really brought you to Windsor, now you have no business there?

Lord Fop. Why, two hours, and six of the best nags in Christendom, or the devil drive me! Lord More. You make haste, my lord.

Lord Fop. My lord, I always fly when I pursue-But they are all well kept, indeed—I love to have creatures go as I bid them. You have seen them, Charles; but so has all the world; Foppington's long tails are known on every road in England.

Sir Cha. Well, my lord, but how came they to bring you this road? You don't use to take these irregular jaunts, without some design in your head, of having more than nothing to do.

Lord Fop. Pshaw! Pox! Prithee, Charles, thou knowest I am a fellow sans consequence, be where I will.

Sir Cha. Nay, nay, this is too much among friends, my lord; come, come, we must have it; your real business here?

Lord Fop. Why, then, entre nous, there is a certain fille de joye about the court, here, that loves winning at cards better than all the things I have been able to say to her,so I have brought an oda thousand bill in my pocket, that I design, tête-à-tête, to play off with her at picquet, or so; and now the business is out.

Sir Cha. Ah, and a very good business, too, my lord.

Lord Fop. If it be well done, CharlesSir Cha. That's as you manage your cards, my lord.

Lord More. This must be a woman of consequence, by the value you set upon her favours. Sir Cha. Oh, nothing's above the price of a fine woman.

Lord Fop. Nay, look you, gentlemen, the price may not happen to be altogether so high, neither- -For I fancy I know enough of the game, to make it an even bet, I get her for nothing.

Lord More. How so, my lord?

Lord Fop. Because, if she happen to lose a good sum to me, I shall buy her with her own

money.

Lord More. That's new, I confess.

Lord Fop. You know, Charles, 'tis not impossible but I may be five hundred pounds deep with her then, bills may fall short, and the devil's in't if I want assurance to ask her to pay some way or other.

Sir Cha. And a man must be a churl, indeed, that won't take a lady's personal security; ha, ha, ha!

Lord Fop. He, he, he! Thou art a devil, Charles!

Lord More. Death! How happy is this coxcomb?

[Aside. Lord Fop. But, to tell you the truth, gentlemen, I had another pressing temptation that brought me hither, which was-my wife.

Lord More. That's kind, indeed; my lady has been here this month: she'll be glad to see you. Lord Fop. That I don't know; for I design this afternoon to send her to London.

Lord More. What! the same day you come, my lord that would be cruel.

Lord Fop. Aye, but it will be mighty convenient; for she is positively of no manner of use in my amours.

Lord More. That's your fault; the town thinks her a very deserving woman.

Lord Fop. If she were a woman of the town, perhaps I should think so, too; but she happens to be my wife, and, when a wife is once given to deserve more than her husband's inclinations can pay, in my mind she has no merit at all.

Lord More. She's extremely well-bred, and of a very prudent conduct.

Lord Fop. Un-aye-the woman's proud enough.

Lord More. Add to this, all the world allows her handsome.

Lord Fop. The world's extremely civil, my lord; and I should take it as a favour done me, if they could find an expedient to unmarry the poor woman from the only man in the world that cannot think her handsome.

Lord More. I believe there are a great many in the world that are sorry 'tis not in their to unmarry her.

power

Lord Fop. I am a great many in the world's very humble servant; and, whenever they find it is in their power, their high and mighty wisdoms may command me at a quarter of an hour's warning.

Lord More. Pray, my lord, what did you marry for?

Lord Fop. To pay my debts at play, and disinherit my younger brother.

Lord More. But there are some things due to a wife.

Lord Fop. And there are some debts I don't care to pay-to both which I plead—husband, and-my lord.

Lord More. If I should do so, I should expect to have my own coach stopt in the street, and to meet my wife with the windows up in a hackney.

Lord Fop. Then would I put in bail, and order a separate maintenance.

Lord More. So, pay the double the sum of the debt, and be married for nothing.

Lord Fop. Now, I think deferring a dun, and getting rid of one's wife, are two the most agreeable sweets in the liberties of an English subject.

Lord More. If I were married, I would as soon part from iny estate as my wife.

Lord Fop. Now, I would not; sun-burn me if I would!

Lord More. Death! but, since you are so indifferent, my lord, why would you needs marry a woman of so much merit? Could not you have laid out your spleen upon some ill-natured shrew, that wanted the plague of an ill husband, and have let her alone to some plain, honest man of quality, that would have deserved her?

me,

Lord Fop. Why, faith, my lord, that might have been considered; but I really grew so passionately fond of her fortune, that, curse catch I was quite blind to the rest of her good qualities: for, to tell you the truth, if it had been possible the old put of a peer could have tossed me in t'other five thousand for them, by my consent, she should have relinquished her merit and virtues to any of her other sisters,

Sir Cha. Aye, aye, my lord; virtues in a wife are good for nothing but to make her proud, and put the world in mind of her husband's faults,

Lord Fop. Right, Charles: and, strike me blind, but the women of virtue are now grown such idiots in love, that they expect of a man, just as they do of a coach-horse, that's one appetite, like t'other's flesh, should increase by feeding.

Sir Cha. Right, my lord; and don't consider, that toujours chapons bouillis will never do with an English stomach.

Lord Fop. Ha, ha, ha! To tell you the truth,

Charles, I have known so much of that sort of eating, that I now think, for an hearty meal, no wild fowl in Europe is comparable to a joint of Banstead mutton.

Lord Mor. How do you mean?

Lord Fop. Why that, for my part, I had rather have a plain slice of my wife's woman, than my guts full of e'er an Ortolan dutchess in Christendom.

Lord Mor. But, I thought, my lord, your chief business now at Windsor had been your design upon a woman of quality.

Lord Fop. That's true, my lord; though I don't think your fine lady the best dish myself, yet a man of quality can't be without such things at his table.

Lord Mor. Oh, then, you only desire the reputation of an affair with her?

Lord Fop. I think the reputation is the most inviting part of an amour with most women of quality.

Lord Mor. Why so, my lord?

Lord Fop. Why, who the devii would run through all the degrees of form and ceremony, that lead one up to the last favour, if it were not for the reputation of understanding the nearest way to get over the difficulty?

Lord Mor. But, my lord, does not the reputation of your being so general an undertaker frighten the women from engaging with you? For, they say, no man can love but one at a time.

Lord Fop. That's just one more than ever I came up to for, stop my breath, if ever I loved in my life!

Lord Mor. How do you get them, then?

Lord Fop. Why, sometimes, as they get other people: I dress, and let them get me; or, if that won't do, as I got my title, I buy them.

Lord Mor. But, how can you, that profess indifference, think it worth your while to come so often up to the price of a woman of quality?

Lord Fop. Because, you must know, my lord, that most of them begin, now, to come down to reason; I mean those that are to be had; for some die fools: but, with the wiser sort, 'tis not, of late, so very expensive; now and then, a partie quarré, a jaunt or two in a hack to an Indian house, a little china, an odd thing for a gown, or so; and, in three days after, you meet her at the conveniency of trying it chez Mademoiselle d' Epingle.

Sir Cha. Aye, aye, my lord; and when you are there, you know, what between a little chat, a dish of tea, mademoiselle's good humour, and a petit chanson or two, the devil's in't if a man can't fool away the time, 'till he sees how it looks upon her by candle-light.

Lord Fop. Heh! heh! well said, Charles; egad, I fancy thee and I have unlaced many a reputation there!--Your great lady is as soon undressed as her woman

Lord Mor. I could never find it so the shame or scandal of a repulse always made me afraid of attempting women of condition.

Sir Cha. Ha, ha! egad, my lord, you deserve to be ill used; your modesty's enough to spoil any woman in the world. But my lord and I understand the sex a little better; we see plainly, that women are only cold, as some men are brave, from the modesty or fear of those that attack them.

Lord Fop. Right, Charles-a man should no more give up his heart to a woman, than his sword to a bully; they are both as insolent as the devil after it.

Sir Cha. How do you like that, my lord? Aside to LORD MORELOVE. Lord Mor. Faith, I envy him!-But, my lord, suppose your inclination should stumble upon a woman truly virtuous, would not a severe repulse from such an one put you strangely out of countenance?

Lord Fop. Not at all, my lord-for, if a man don't mind a box o' the ear in a fair struggle with a fresh country girl, why the deuce should he be concerned at an impertinent frown for an attack upon a woman of quality?

Lord Mor. Then, you have no notion of a lady's cruelty?

Lord Fop. Ha, ha! let me blood, if I think there's a greater jest in nature! I am ready to crack my guts with laughing, to see a senseless flirt, because the creature happens to have a little pride, that she calls virtue, about her, give herself all the insolent airs of resentment and disdain to an honest fellow, that, all the while, does not care three pinches of snuff if she and her virtue were to run, with their last favours, through the first regiment of guards!-Ha, ha! it puts me in mind of an affair of mine, so impertinent!

Lord Mor. Oh, that's impossible, my lord!— Pray, let's hear it.

Lord Fop. Why, I happened once to be very well in a certain man of quality's family, and his wife liked me!

Lord Mor. How do you know she liked you? Lord Fop. Why, from the very moment I told her I liked her, she never durst trust herself at the end of a room with me.

Lord Mor. That might be her not liking you. Lord Fop. My lord-Women of quality don't use to speak the thing plain-but, to satisfy you I did not want encouragement, I never came there in my life, but she did immediately smile, and borrow my snuff-box.

Lord Mor. She liked your snuff, at least-Well, but how did she use you?

Lord Fop. By all that's infamous, she jilted

me!

Lord Mor. How! Jilt you?

Lord Fop. Ay, death's curse, she jilted me! Lord Mor. Pray, let's hear.

Lord Fop. For, when I was pretty well convinced she had a mind to me, I one day made her a hint of an appointment: upon which, with an insolent frown in her face (that made her look as ugly as the devil,) she told me, that, if ever I came thither again, her lord should know that she had forbidden me the house before.-Did you ever hear of such a slut?

Sir Cha. Intolerable!

Lord Mor. But, how did her answer agree with you?

Lord Fop. Oh, passionately well! for I stared full in her face, and burst out a laughing; at which, she turned upon her heel, and gave a crack with her fan, like a coach-whip, and bridled out of the room with the air and complexion of an incensed Turkey-cock.

[A servant whispers SIR CHARLES. Lord Mor. What did you, then? Lord Fop. I--looked after her, gaped, threw

SCENE I.-Continues.

up the sash, and fell a singing out of the window -so that, you see, my lord, while a man is not in love, there's no great affliction in missing one's way to a woman.

Sir Cha. Aye, aye, you talk this very well, my lord; but, now, let's see how you dare behave yourself upon action-dinner's served, and the ladies stay for us-There's one within, has been too hard for as brisk a man as yourself.

Lord Mor. I guess who you mean-Have a care, my lord; she'll prove your courage for you. Lord Fop. Will she? then she's an undone creature. For, let me tell you, gentlemen, courage is the whole mystery of making love, and of more use than conduct is in war; for the bravest fellow in Europe may beat his brains out against the stubborn walls of a town-But

-Women, born to be controlled,

Stoop to the forward, and the bold. [Exeunt.

Enter LORD MORELOVE, and SIR CHARLES. Lord Mor. So! Did not I bear up bravely? Sir Cha. Admirably! with the best bred insolence in nature; you insulted like a woman of quality, when her country-bred husband's jealous of her in the wrong place.

Lord Mor. Ha, ha! Did you observe, when I first came into the room, how carelessly she brushed her eyes over me; and, when the company saluted me, stood all the while with her face to the window? ha, ha!

Sir Cha. What astonished airs she gave herself, when you asked her, what made her so grave upon her old friends!

any

Lord Mor. And, whenever I offered thing in talk, what affected care she took to direct her observations of it to a third person!

Sir Cha. I observed she did not eat above the rump of a pigeon all dinner time.

Lord Mor. And how she coloured when I told her her ladyship had lost her stomach! Sir Cha. If you keep your temper, she's undone.

Lord Mor. Provided she sticks to her pride, I believe I may.

Sir Cha. Aye! never fear her; I warrant, in the humour she is in, she would as soon part with her sense of feeling.

Lord Mor. Well, what's to be done next? Sir Cha. Only observe her motions: for, by her behaviour at dinner, I am sure she designs to gall you with my lord Foppington: if so, you must even stand her fire, and then play my lady Graveairs upon her, whom I'll immediately pique, and prepare for your purpose.

Lord Mor. I understand you the proper

est woman in the world, too: for, she'll certainly encourage the least offer from me, in hopes of revenging her slights upon you.

Sir Cha. Right; and the very encouragement she gives you, at the same time, will give me a pretence to widen the breach of my quarrel with her.

Lord Mor. Besides, Charles, I own I am fond of any attempt that will forward a misunderstanding there, for your lady's sake. A woman, so truly good in her nature, ought to have something more from a man, than bare occasions to prove her goodness.

Sir Cha. Why, then, upon honour, my lord, to give you proof that I am positively the best husband in the world, my wife never yet found

me out.

Lord Mor. That may be, by her being the best wife in the world: she, may be, won't find you out.

Sir Cha. Nay, if she won't tell a man of his faults, when she sees them, how the deuce should he mend them? But, however, you see I am going to leave them off as fast as I can.

Lord Mor. Being tired of a woman, is, indeed, a pretty tolerable assurance of a man's not designing to fool on with her-Here she comes; and, if I don't mistake, brimful of reproachesYou can't take her in a better time I'll leave you.

Enter LADY GRAVEAIRS. Your ladyship's most humble servant. Is the company broke up, pray?

Lady Grave. No, my lord, they are talking of basset; my lord Foppington has a mind to tally, if your lordship would encourage the table.

Lord Mor. Oh, madam, with all my heart!