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in a great many of us, I believe it proceeds from some melancholy particles in the blood, occasioned by the stagnation of wages.

Mrs Sul. Something for a pair of gloves. [Offering him money.

Arch. I humbly beg leave to be excused. My Dor. How affectedly the fellow talks!-How master, madam, pays me; nor dare I take molong, pray, have you served your present mas-ney from any other hand, without injuring his ter?

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Arch. Madam, the ladies pay best; the honour of serving them is sufficient wages; there is a charm in their looks, that delivers a pleasure with their commands, and gives our duty the wings of inclination.

Mrs Sul. That flight was above the pitch of a livery and, sir, would not you be satisfied to serve a lady again?

Arch. As groom of the chambers, madam; but not as a footman.

Mrs Sul. I suppose you served as footman before?

Arch. For that reason, I would not serve in that post again; for my memory is too weak for the load of messages that the ladies lay upon their servants in London: my lady Howd'ye, the last mistress I served, called me up one morning, and told me, Martin, go to my lady Allnight with my humble service; tell her I was to wait on her ladyship yesterday, and left word with Mrs Rebecca, that the preliminaries of the affair she knows of are stopt till we know the concurrence of the person that I know of, for which there are circumstances wanting which we shall accommodate at the old place; but that, in the mean time, there is a person about her ladyship, that from several hints and surmises, was accessary at a certain time to the disappointments that naturally attend things, that to her knowledge are of more importance

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Mrs Sul.
Dor.
sir?
Arch. Why, I han't half done.

Ha, ha! where are you going,

Scrub. I should not remember a quarter of it. Arch. The whole how d'ye was about half an hour long; so, happened to misplace two syllables, and was turned off, and rendered incapable

Dor. The pleasantest fellow, sister, I ever saw. But, friend, if your master be marriedI presume you still serve a lady?

Arch. No, madam; I take care never to come into a married family; the commands of the master and mistress are always so contrary, that 'tis impossible to please both.

Dor. There's a main point gained.-My lord is not married, I find. [Aside.

Mrs Sul. But, I wonder, friend, that in so inany good services, you had not a better provision made for you?

Arch. I don't know how, madam-I am very well as I am.

honour, and disobeying his commands.

Scrub. Brother Martin, brother Martin !
Arch. What do you say, brother Scrub?
Scrub. Take the money, and give it to me.

[Exeunt ARCHER and SCRUB. Dor. This is surprising! Did you ever see so pretty a well-bred fellow!

Mrs Sul. The devil take him for wearing the livery!

Dor. I fancy, sister, he may be some gentleman, a friend of my lord's, that his lordship has pitched upon for his courage, fidelity, and discretion, to bear hin company in this dress, and who, ten to one, was his second.

Mrs Sul. It is so, it must be so, and it shall be so !-For I like him.

Dor. What! better than the count?

Mrs Sul. The count happened to be the most agreeable man upon the place; and so I chose him to serve me in my design upon my husband -But I should like this fellow better in a design upon myself.

Dor. But now, sister, for an interview with this lord, and this gentleman; how shall we bring that about?

Mrs Sul. Patience! you country ladies give no quarter, if once you be entered.-Would you prevent their desires, and give the fellows no wishing time?-Look'e, Dorinda, if my lord Aimwell loves you, or deserves you, he'll find a way to see you; and there we must leave it—My business comes now upon the tapis-Have you prepared your brother?

Dor. Yes, yes.

Mrs Sul. And how did he relish it?

Dor. He said little, mumbled something to himself, and promised to be guided by me-but here he comes

Enter SULLEN.

Sul. What singing was that I heard just now? Mrs Sul. The singing in your head, my dear; you complained of it all day.

Sul. You're impertinent.

Mrs Sul. I was ever so, since I became one flesh with you.

Sul. One flesh! rather two carcases joined unnaturally together.

Mrs Sul. Or rather, a living soul coupled to a dead body.

Dor. So, this is fine encouragement for me! Sul. Yes, my wife shews what you must do. Mrs Sul. And my husband shews you what you must suffer.

Sul. 'Sdeath! why can't you be silent?
Mrs Sul. 'Sdeath! why can't you talk?

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Dor. No, no, dear sister; you have missed your mark so unfortunately, that I shan't care for beanding instructed by you.

Enter AIMWELL in a chair, carried by ARCHER and SCRUB, LADY BOUNTIFUL, GIPSEY; AIMWELL counterfeiting a swoon.

Lady Boun. Here, here, let's see the hartshorn

Arch. Where, where is my lady Bountiful?-drops-Gipsey, a glass of fair water, his fit's Pray, which is the old lady of you three! Lady Boun. I am.

Arch. O, madam! the fame of your ladyship's charity, goodness, benevolence, skill, and ability, have drawn me hither to implore your ladyship's help in behalf of my unfortunate master, who is this moment breathing his last.

Lady Boun. Your master! Where is he?

Arch. At your gate, madam: drawn by the appearance of your handsome house to view it nearer, and walking up the avenue, he was taken ill of a sudden, with a sort of I know not what : but down he fell, and there he lies.

Lady Boun. Here, Scrub, Gipsey! all run; get my easy-chair down stairs, put the gentleman in it, and bring him in quickly, quickly.

Arch. Heaven will reward your ladyship for this charitable act.

Lady Boun. Is your master used to these fits? Arch. O yes, madam, frequently. I have known him have five or six of a night. Lady Boun. What's his name? Arch. Lord, madam, he's a dying! a minute's care or neglect may save or destroy his life. Lady Boun. Ah, poor gentleman! Come, friend, shew me the way, I'll see him brought in myself. [Exit with ARCHER. Dor. O, sister! my heart flutters about strangely; I can hardly forbear from running to his as

sistance.

Mrs Sul. And I'll lay my life he deserves your assistance more than he wants it. Did not I tell you, that my lord would find a way to come at you? Love's his distemper, and you must be the physician; put on all your charms, summon all your fire into your eyes, plant the whole artillery of your looks against his breast, and down with him.

Dor. O, sister, I'm but a young gunner! I shall be afraid to shoot, for fear the piece should recoil, and hurt myself.

Mrs Sul. Never fear! you shall see me shoot before you, if you will,

very strongclenched!

-Bless me, how his hands are

Arch. For shame, ladies, what d'ye do! Why don't you help us? -Pray, madam, [To DoRINDA.] take his hand, and open it, if you can, whilst I hold his head.

[DORINDA takes his hand. Dor. Poor gentleman!-Oh-he has got my hand within his, and squeezes it unmercifullyLady Boun. 'Tis the violence of his convulsion, child.

Arch. O, madam! he's perfectly possessed in these cases.-He'll bite you, if you don't have care.

Dor. Oh, my hand! my hand!

Lady Boun. What's the matter with the foolish girl? I have got this hand open, you see, with a great deal of ease.

Arch. Aye, but, madam, your daughter's hand is somewhat warmer than your ladyship's, and the heat of it draws the force of the spirits that

way.

Mrs Sul. I find, friend, you're very learned in these sort of fits.

Arch. 'Tis no wonder, madam; for I am often troubled with them myself; I find myself extremely ill at this minute.

[Looking hard at MRS SULLEN. Mrs Sul. [Aside.] I fancy I could find a way to cure you.

Lady Boun. His fit holds him very long.
Arch. Longer than usual, madam.

Lady Boun. Where did his illness take him first, pray?

Arch. To-day at church, madam.

Lady Boun. In what manner was he taken?

Arch. Very strangely, my lady. He was of a sudden touched with something in his eyes, which, at the first, he only felt, but could not tell whether 'twas pain or pleasure.

Lady Boun. Wind, nothing but wind. Your master should never go without a bottle to smell to-Oh! he recovers-the lavender water

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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. [Erit.] 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

No treasure but thyself could sure have bribed devil. Sir, I am a bold Briton, and will spill

him

To look one minute off thee.

Lady Boun. Delirious, poor gentleman! Arch. Very delirious, madam, very delirious. Aim. Martin's voice, I think.

Arch. Yes, my lord. How does your lordship?

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.

Aim. I am so confounded with shame, ma- Scrub. You lie, you lie; 'tis the common peodam, that I can now only beg pardon-and re-ple, such as you are, that are civilest to stranfer my acknowledgments for your ladyship's care, till an opportunity offers of making some amends. I dare to be no longer troublesome. Martin, give two guineas to the servants.

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.]

Aim. That I shall never be, madam; my present illness is so rooted, that I must expect to carry it to my grave.

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, sirCome, 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

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?

Scrub. The captain! ah, the devil! there she hampers me again; the captain has me on one side, and the priest on t'other-So, between the gown and the sword, I have a fine time on't.

[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.

But

Gip. Well, doctor, I'll take it logice. 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

Foig. Vell, and is dere any shin in going to-out; but where's the carnation dew, the pouting bed, joy?

Gip. Aye, but if the parties should meet, doc

tor?

Foig. Vell, den-the parties must be responsible. Do you begone after putting the count into the closhet; and leave the shins wid themselves. I will come with the count to instruct you in your chamber.

ripeness, that tempts the taste in the original? Mrs Sul. Had it been my lot to have matched with such a man!

[Aside. Arch. Your breasts too, presumptuous man ! what! paint Heaven! A-propos, madam, in the 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.

Gip. Well, doctor, your religion is so pure-madam. Methinks I'm so easy after an absolution, and can sin afresh with so much security, that I'm resolved to die a martyr to't—Here's the key of the garden-door; come in the back way, when 'tis late-I'll be ready to receive you; but don't so much as whisper, only take hold of my hand; I'll lead you, and do you lead the count, and follow me. [Exeunt.

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! eh— by 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 guinea, 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.

Enter MRS SULLEN and DORINDA, meeting.

Mrs Sul. Well, sister. Dor. And well, sister.

Mrs Sul. What's become of my lord? Dor. What's become of his servant? Mrs Sul. Servant! He's a prettier fellow, and a finer gentleman, by fifty degrees, than his mas

ter.

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 had.

ye?

Dor. Done! What did your fellow say to

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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 forward!-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

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