into the most noble society of the sword, I bespeak you for a comrade. Syl. No, sir, I'll be the captain's comrade, if any-body's. Kite. Ambition! there again! 'tis a noble passion for a soldier; by that I gained this glorious halberd. Ambition! I see a commission in his face already. Pray, noble captain, give me leave to salute you. [Offers to kiss her. Syl. What! men kiss one another? Kite. We officers do, 'tis our way; we live together like man and wife, always either kissing or fighting: but I see a storm coming. Syl. Now, serjeant, I shall see who is your captain by your knocking down the other. Kite. My captain scorns assistance, sir. Braz. How dare you contend for any thing, and not dare to draw your sword? But you are a young fellow, and have not been much abroad; I excuse that: but prithee, resign the man, prithee do: you are a very honest fellow. Plume. You lie; and you are a son of a whore. [Draws, and makes up to BRAZEN. Braz. Hold, hold; did not you refuse to fight for the lady? Plume. I always do; but, for a man, I'll fight knee-deep; so you lie again. SCENE I.-The walk continues. [PLUME and BRAZEN fight a traverse or two Braz. Hold! where's the man? Braz. Then, what do we fight for? [Puts up.] Now, let's embrace, my dear! Plume. With all my heart, my dear! [Putting up.] I suppose Kite has listed him by this time. [Embraces. Braz. You are a brave fellow! I always fight with a man before I make him my friend; and if once I find he will fight, I never quarrel with him afterwards. And, now, I'll tell you a secret, my dear friend! that lady we frightened out of the walk just now, I found in bed this morning, so beautiful, so inviting;-I presently locked the door-but I'm a man of honour-but I believe I shall marry her nevertheless-her twenty thousand pounds, you know, will be a pretty conveniency. I had an assignation with her here; but your coming spoiled my sport. Curse you, my dear! but don't do so againPlume. No, no, my dear! men are my business at present. [Exeunt. ACT IV. Enter Rose and BULLOCK meeting. Rose. WHERE have you been, you great booby? you are always out of the way in the time of preferment. Bul. Preferment! who should prefer me? Rose, I would prefer you! who should prefer a man but a woman? Come, throw away that great club, hold up your head, cock your hat, and look big. Bul. Ah, Ruose, Ruose! I fear somebody will look big sooner than folk think of. Here has been Cartwheel, your sweetheart; what will become of him? Rose. Look'e, I'm a great woman, and will provide for my relations: I told the captain how finely he played upon the tabor and pipe, so he set him down for drum-major. Bul. Nay, sister, why did not you keep that place for me? you know I have always loved to be a drumming, if it were but on a table or on a quart pot. Enter SYLVIA. Syl. Had I but a commission in my pocket, I fancy my breeches would become me as well as any ranting fellow of them all; for I take a bold step, a rakish toss, a smart cock, and an impudent air, to be the principal ingredients in the composition of a captain. What's here? Rose, my nurse's daughter! I'll go and practise. Come, child, kiss me at once. [Kisses ROSE.] And her brother, too! Well, honest Dungfork, do you know the difference between a horse and a cart, and a cart-horse? eh? Bul. I presume, that your worship is a captain, by your clothes and your courage. Syl. Suppose I were, would you be contented to list, friend? Rose. No, no; though your worship be a handsome man, there be others as fine as you. My brother is engaged to captain Plume. Syl. Plume! do you know captain Plume? Rose. Yes, I do, and he knows me. He took the ribbands out of his shirt sleeves, and put them into my shoes: see there-I can assure you, that I can do any thing with the captain. Bul. That is, in a modest way, sir. Have a care what you say, Ruose; don't shame your parentage. Rose. Nay, for that matter, I am not so simple as to say, that I can do any thing with the captain but what I may do with any body else. Syl, So!And pray, what do you expect from this captain, child?` Rose. I expect, sir!-I expect-but he ordered me to tell nobody-but suppose he should propose to marry me? Syl. You should have a care, my dear! men will promise any thing beforehand. Rose. I know that; but he promised to marry circumstances are not so good as the captain's; me afterwards. Bul. Wauns! Ruose, what have you said? but I'll take care of you, upon my word. Plume. Ay, ay, we'll all take care of her; she shall live like a princess, and her brother here Rose. After I had sold my chickens-I hope shall be-What would you be? there's no harm in that. Enter PLUME. Plume. What, Mr Wilful! so close with my market woman? Syl. I'll try if he loves her. [Aside.] Close, sir, ay, and closer yet, sir. Come, my pretty maid! you and I will withdraw a little. Plume. No, no, friend; I han't done with her yet. Syl. Nor have I begun with her; so I have as good a right as you have. Plume. Thou'rt a bloody impudent fellow! vice. Plume. Hast thou really a mind to the service? Syl. Yes, sir; so let her go. Rose. Pray, gentlemen, don't be so violent. Plume. Come, leave it to the girl's own choice. Will you belong to me or to that gentleman ? Rose. Let me consider; you're both very hand some. Plume. Now the natural inconstancy of her sex begins to work. Rose. Pray, sir, what will you give me ? Bul. Danna be angry, sir, that my sister should be mercenary, for she's but young. Bul. Oh, sir, if you had not promised the place of drum-major! Plume. Ay, that is promised; but what think you of barrack-master? you are a person of understanding, and barrack-master you shall beBut what's become of this same Cartwheel you told me of, my dear? Rose. We'll go fetch him-Come, brother barrack-master-We shall find you at home, noble captain? [Exeunt ROSE and BUL. Plume. Yes, yes; and, now, sir, here are your forty shillings. Syl. Captain Plume, I despise your listing-money; if I do serve, 'tis purely for love of that wench, I mean-for you must know, that among my other sallies, I've spent the best part of my fortune in search of a maid, and could never find one hitherto; so you may be assured, I'd not sell my freedom under a less purchase than I did my estate-so, before I list, I must be certified that this girl is a virgin. Plume. Mr Wilful, I can't tell you how you can be certified in that point till you try; but, upon my honour, she may be a vestal for aught that I know to the contrary. I gained her heart, indeed, by some trifling presents and promises, and knowing, that the best security for a woman's heart is her person, I would have made myself master of that too, had not the jealousy of my impertinent landlady interposed. Syl. Give thee, child! I'll set thee above scandal; you shall have a coach, with six before, and six behind; an equipage to make vice fashion-complishing your designs upon her? able, and put virtue out of countenance. Syl. So you only want an opportunity for ac Plume. Pho! that's easily done: I'll do more for thee, child; I'll buy you a furbelow-scarf, and give you a ticket to see a play. Bul. A play! wauns! Ruose, take the ticket, and let's see the show. Syl. I will. Plume. Take her; I'll change a woman for a man at any time. Rose. I have heard before, indeed, that you captains used to sell your men. Bul. Pray, captain, do not send Ruose to the Western Indies. Plume. Ha, ha, ha! West Indies! No, no, my honest lad; give me thy hand; nor you nor she shall move a step farther than I do. This gentleman is one of us, and will be kind to you, Mrs Rose. Rose. But will you be so kind to me, sir, as the captain would? Syl, I can't be altogether so kind to you; my Plume. Not at all; I have already gained my ends, which were only the drawing in one or two of her followers. Kiss the prettiest country wenches, and you are sure of listing the lustiest fellows. Syl. Well, sir, I am satisfied as to the point in debate; but now, let me beg you to lay aside your recruiting airs, put on the man of honour, and tell me plainly, what usage I must expect, when I am under your command? Plume. You must know, in the first place, then, I hate to have gentlemen in my company; they are always troublesome and expensive, sometimes dangerous: and, 'tis a constant maxim amongst us, that those who know the least obey the best. Notwithstanding all this, I find something so agreeable about you, that engages me to court your company; and I can't tell how it is, but I should be uneasy to see you under the command of any body else. Your usage will chiefly depend upon your behaviour; only, this you must expect, that, if you commit a small fault, I will excuse it; if a great one, I'll discharge you; for something tells me, I shall not be able to punish you. Syl. And something tells me, that if you do discharge me, 'twill be the greatest punishment | you can inflict; for, were we this moment to go upon the greatest dangers in your profession, they would be less terrible to me than to stay behind you-And now, your hand! this lists me-and now you are my captain. Plume. Your friend. [Kisses her.] 'Sdeath! there's something in this fellow that charms me! Syl. One favour I must beg-this affair will make some noise, and I have some friends that would censure my conduct, if I threw myself into the circumstance of a private centinel of my own head-I must therefore take care to be imprest by the act of parliament; you shall leave that to me. Plume. What you please as to that-Will you lodge at my quarters in the mean time? you shall have part of my bed. Syl. O fy! lie with a common soldier! would not you rather lie with a common woman? Plume. No, faith, I am not that rake, that the world imagines. I've got an air of freedom, which people mistake for lewdness in me, as they mistake formality in others for religion. The world is all a cheat; only I take mine, which is undesigned, to be more excusable than theirs, which is hypocritical. I hurt nobody but myself;they abuse all mankind-Will you lie with me? Syl. No, no, captain; you forget Rose; she's to be my bedfellow, you know. Plume. I had forgot: pray be kind to her. [Exeunt severally. Enter MELINDA and LUCY. Mel. 'Tis the greatest misfortune in nature for a woman to want a confident: we are so weak, that we can do nothing without assistance; and then a secret racks us worse than the colic-I am at this minute so sick of a secret, that I'm ready to faint away-Help me, Lucy! Lucy. Bless me! Madam, what's the matter? Mel. Vapours only; I begin to recover. If Sylvia were in town I could heartily forgive her faults for the ease of discovering my own. Lucy. You are thoughtful, madam; am not I worthy to know the cause? might kill one in four-and-twenty hours-And did you ask him any questions about me? Mel. You! why I passed for you. Lucy. So 'tis I, that am to die a maid-But the devil was a liar from the beginning; he can't make me die a maid-I've put it out of his power already. [Aside. Mel. I do but jest. I would have passed for you, and called myself Lucy; but he presently told me my name, my quality, my fortune, and gave me the whole history of my life. He told me of a lover I had in this country, and described Worthy exactly, but in nothing so well as in his present indifference-I fled to him for refuge today; he never so much as encouraged me in my fright, but coldly told me, that he was sorry for the accident, because it might give the town cause to censure my conduct, excused his not waiting on me home, made me a careless bow, and walked off-'Sdeath! I could have stabbed him, or myself; 'twas the same thing-Yonder he comes I will so use him! Lucy. Don't exasperate him; consider what the fortune-teller told you. Men are scarce; and, as times go, it is not impossible for a woman to die a maid. Enter WORTHY. Mel. No matter. Wor. I find she's warmed; I must strike, while the iron is hot-You've a great deal of courage, madam, to venture into the walks, where you were so lately frightened. Mel. And you have a quantity of impudence to appear before me, that you so lately have affronted. Wor. I had no design to affront you, nor appear before you either, madam; I left you here, because I had business in another place; and came hither, thinking to meet another person. Mel. Since you find yourself disappointed, I hope you'll withdraw to another part of the walk. Wor. The walk is broad enough for us both. [They walk by one another, he with his hat cocked, she fretting and tearing her fan.] Will you Mel. Oh, Lucy! I can hold my secret no please to take snuff, madam? [He offers her his Jonger. You must know, that, hearing of a fa-box. She strikes it out off his hand; while he is mous fortune-teller in town, I went, disguised, to satisfy a curiosity, which has cost me dear. The fellow is certainly the devil, or one of his bosomfavourites: he has told me the most surprising things of my life. Lucy. Things past, madam, can hardly be reckoned surprising, because we know them already. Did he tell you any thing surprising that was to come. Mel. One thing very surprising; he said I should die a maid! Lucy. Die a maid! come into the world for nothing! Dear madam! if you believe him, it might come to pass; for the bare thought on't gathering it up, BRAZEN enters, and takes her round the waist; she cuffs him.] Braz. What, here before me, my dear! Mel. What means this insolence? Lucy. Are you mad? don't you see Mr Worthy? [To BRAZEN. Braz. No; no; I'm struck blind-Worthy! odso! well turned-My mistress has wit at her finger's ends-Madam, I ask your pardon; 'tis our way abroad-Mr Worthy, you're the happy man. Wor. I don't envy your happiness very much, if the lady can afford no other sort of favours but what she has bestowed upon you. Mel. I'm sorry the favour miscarried, for it was designed for you, Mr Worthy; and, be assured, 'tis the last and only favour you must expect at my hands-captain, I ask your pardon. [Exit with Lucy. Braz. I grant it- -You see, Mr Worthy, 'twas only a random-shot; it might have taken off your head as well as mine. Courage, my dear! 'tis the fortune of war; but the enemy has thought fit to withdraw, I think. Wor. Withdraw! Oons! Sir, what d'ye mean by withdraw? Braz. I'll shew you. [Exit BRAZEN. Wor. She's lost, irrecoverably lost, and Plume's advice has ruined me. 'Sdeath! why should I, that knew her haughty spirit, be ruled by a man that's a stranger to her pride? Enter PLUME. Plume. Ha, ha, ha! a battle royal! Don't frown so, man; she's your own, I tell you: I saw the fury of her love in the extremity of her passion. The wildness of her anger is a certain sign that she loves you to madness. That rogue, Kite, began the battle with abundance of conduct, and will bring you off victorious, my life on't; he plays his part admirably: she's to be with him again presently. Wor. But what could be the meaning of Brazen's familiarity with her? Plume. You are no logician, if you pretend to draw consequences from the actions of foolsWhim, unaccountable whim, hurries them on, like a man drunk with brandy before ten o'clock in the morning- -But we lose our sport; Kite has opened about an hour ago: let's away. [Exeunt. SCENE II-A chamber; a table with books and globes. KITE disguised in a strange habit, sitting at a table. Kite. Rising.] By the position of the heavens, gained from my observation upon these celestial globes, I find, that Luna was a tide-waiter; Sol a surveyor; Mercury a thief; Venus a whore; Saturn an alderman; Jupiter a rake; and Mars a serjeant of grenadiers;—and this is the system of Kite the conjurer. Enter PLUME and WORTHY. Plume. Well, what success? Kite. I have sent away a shoemaker and a tailor already; one's to be a captain of the marines, and the other a major of dragoons-I am to manage them at night-Have you seen the lady, Mr Worthy? Wor. Ave, but it won't do-Have you shewed her her name, that I tore off from the bottom of the letter? Kite. No, sir, I reserve that for the last stroke. Kite. Writing your name in his pocket-book. Mel. Ha, ha! my name! pray what have you or he to do with my name? Kite. Look'e, fair lady, the devil is a very modest person; he seeks nobody, unless they seek him first; he's chain'd up like a mastiff, and can't stir unless he be let loose-You come to me to have your fortune told-do you think, madam, that I can answer you of my own head? No, madam, the affairs of women are so irregular, that nothing less than the devil can give any ac count of them. Now, to convince you of your incredulity, I'll shew you a trial of my skill. Here, you Cacodemo del Plumo, exert your power; draw me this lady's name; the word Melinda, in proper letters and characters of her own hand-writing-Do it at three motions-one -two-three-'tis done-Now, madam, will you please to send your maid to fetch it? Lucy. I fetch it! the devil fetch me, if I do! Mel. My name in my own hand-writing! that would be convincing indeed. Kite. Seeing is believing. [Goes to the table, and lifts up the carpet.] Here Tre, Tre, poor Tre, give me the bone, sirrah. There's your name upon that square piece of paper. Behold!— Mel. 'Tis wonderful! my very letters to a tittle! Lucy. 'Tis like your hand, madam, but not so like your hand, neither: and now, I look nearer, 'tis not like your hand at all. Kite. Here's a chambermaid, now, will outlie the devil! Lucy. Look'e, madam, they sha'nt impose upon us; people can't remember their hands, no more than they can their faces-Come, madam, let us be certain; write your name upon this paper, then we'll compare the two hands. [Takes out a paper, and folds it. Kite. Any thing for your satisfaction, madam -Here's pen and ink. [MELINDA writes, Lucy holds the paper. Lucy. Let me see it, madam; 'tis the samethe very same) But I'll secure one copy for my own affairs. [Aside. Mel. This is demonstration! Kite. 'Tis so, madam-the word Demonstration comes from Dæmon, the father of lies. Mel. Well, doctor, I'm convinced and now, pray, what account can you give of my future fortune? Kite. Before the sun has made one course round this earthly globe, your fortune will be fixed for happiness or misery. Lucy. O pray, sir, discharge us first! Enter WORTHY and PLUME. Kite. Mr Worthy, you were pleased to wish me joy to-day; I hope to be able to return the compliment to-morrow. Wor. I'll make it the best compliment to you, that ever I made in my life, if you do; but I must be a traveller, you say? Kite. No farther than the chops of the channel, I presume, sir. Plume. That we have concerted already. [Knocking hard.] Heyday! you don't profess midwifery, doctor? Kite. Away to your ambuscade. [Exeunt WORTHY and PLUME. Enter BRAZEN. Braz. Your servant, my dear ! Kite. Yes, my dear! but mine is a peaceable spirit, and hates gunpowder. Thus I fortify myself: [Draws a circle round him.] and now, captain, have a care how you force my lines. Braz. Lines! what dost talk of lines! you have something like a fishing-rod there, indeed; but I come to be acquainted with you, man-What's your name, my dear? Kite. Conundrum. Braz. Conundrum? rat me! I knew a famous doctor in London of your name-Where were you born? Kite. I was born in Algebra. Mel. What! so near the crisis of my fate? Kite. Let me see-About the hour of ten tomorrow morning, you will be saluted by a gentleman, who will come to take his leave of you, being designed for travel; his intention of going Braz. Algebra! 'tis no country in Christenabroad is sudden, and the occasion a woman.dom, I'm sure, unless it be some place in the Your fortune and his are like the bullet and the Highlands in scotland. barrel, one runs plump into the other-In short, if the gentleman travels, he will die abroad, and if he does, you will die before he comes home. Mel. What sort of a man is he? Kite. Madam, he's a fine gentleman, and a lover; that is, a man of very good sense, and a very great fool. Mel. How is that possible, doctor? Kite. Because, madam-because it is so-A woman's reason is the best for a man's being a fool. Mel. Ten o'clock, you say? Kite. Ten-about the hour of tea-drinking throughout the kingdom. Mel. Here, doctor. [Gives money.] Lucy, have you any questions to ask? Lucy. Uh, mada! a thousand. Kite. I must beg your patience till another time, for I expect more company this minute; besides, I must discharge the gentleman under the table. Kite. Right-I told you I was bewitched. Braz. So am I, my dear! I am going to be married-I have had two letters from a lady of fortune that loves me to madness, fits, cholic, spleen, and vapours shall I marry her in four-and-twenty hours, ay or no? Kite. Certainly. Braz. Gadso, ay Kite. Or no-But I must have the year, and the day of the month, when these letters were dated. Braz. Why, you old bitch! did you ever hear of love-letters dated with the year and day of the month? do you think billetdoux are like bank-bills? Kite. They are not so good, my dear-but if they bear no date, I must examine the contents. Braz. Contents! that you shall, old boy! here they be both. Kite. Only the last you received, if you please. [Takes the letter.] Now, sir, if you please to let |