shall not be sufficient for a mittimus, or a tailor's measure; therefore withdraw your instrument, or, by'r lady, I shall draw mine.

L. Wish. Hold, nephew, hold.

Mill. Good Sir Wilfull, respite your valour. Fain. Indeed! are you provided of your guard, with your single beef-eater there? But I am prepared for you, and insist upon my first proposal. You shall submit your own estate to my management, and absolutely make over my wife's to my sole use, as pursuant to the purport and tenour of this other covenant. I suppose, madam, your consent is not requisite in this case; nor, Mr Mirabell, your resignation; nor, Sir Wilfull, your right-You may draw your fox, if you please, sir, and make a Bear-garden flourish somewhere else; for here it will not avail. This, my lady Wishfort, must be subscribed, or your darling daughter's turned adrift, like a leaky hulk, to sink or swim, as she and the current of this lewd town can agree.

L. Wish. Is there no means, no remedy, to stop my ruin? Ungrateful wretch! Dost thou not owe thy being, thy subsistence to my daughter's fortune?

Fain. I'll answer you when I have the rest of it in my possession.

Mira. But that you would not accept of a remedy from my hands-I own I have not deserved you should owe any obligation to me; or else perhaps I could advise

L. Wish. O, what? what? to save me and my child from ruin, from want, I'll forgive all that's past; nay, I'll consent to any thing to come, to be delivered from this tyranny.

Mira. Ay, madam; but that is too late; my reward is intercepted. You have disposed of her who only could have made me a compensation for all my services;-but be it as it may, I'm resolved I'll serve you; you shall not be wronged in this savage manner.

L. Wash. How! Dear Mr Mirabell, can you be so generous at last! But it is not possible.Harkee, I'll break my nephew's match; you shall have my niece yet, and ali her fortune, if you can but save me from this imminent danger.

Mira. Will you? I take you at your word. I ask no more. I must have leave for two criminals to appear.

L. Wish. Ay, ay, any body, any body. Mira. Foible is one, and a penitent. Mrs FAINALL, FOIBLE, and MINCING enter. Mrs Mar. O, my shame! [MIRABELL and Lady WISH. go to Mrs FAINALL and FOIBLE.] These corrupt things are brought hither to ex[TO FAINALL. pose me. Fain. If it must all come out, why, let 'em know it; 'tis but "The Way of the World." That shall not urge me to relinquish or abate one tittle of my terms; no, I will insist the more.

Foi. Yes indeed, madam, I'll take my Bible oath of it.

Minc. And so will I, mem.

false? My friend deceive me! Hast thou been a wicked accomplice with that profligate man?

Mrs Mar. Have you so much ingratitude and injustice, to give credit, against your friend, to the aspersions of two such mercenary trulls?

Minc. Mercenary, mem! I scorn your words. 'Tis true we found you and Mr Fainall in the blue garret ; by the same token, you swore us to secrecy upon Messalina's poems. Mercenary! No, if we would have been mercenary, we should have held our tongues; you would have bribed us sufficiently.

Fain. Go; you are an insignificant thing. Well, what are you the better for this? Is this Mr Mirabell's expedient? I'll be put off no longer-You thing, that was a wife, shall smart for this. I will not leave thee wherewithal to hide thy shame: Your person shall be naked as your reputation.

Mrs Fain. I despise you, and defy your malice-You have aspersed me wrongfully—I have proved your falsehood-Go, you and your treacherous-I will not name it--but starve togetherPerish.

Fain. Not while you are worth a groat, indeed, my dear.—Madam, I'll be fooled no longer. L. Wish. Ah, Mr Mirabell, this is small comfort, the detection of this affair.

Mira. O, in good time-Your leave for the madam. other offender and penitent to appear,

WAITWELL enters with a box of writings. L. Wish. O, Sir Rowland-Well, rascal. Wait. What your ladyship pleases.-I have brought the black box at last, madam.

Mira. Give it me. Madam, you remember your promise.

L. Wish. Ay, dear sir.

Mira. Where are the gentlemen?

Wait. At hand, sir, rubbing their eyes-just risen from sleep.

Fain. 'Sdeath! what's this to me? I'll not wait your private concerns.

PETULANT and WITWOULD enter. Pet. How now? what's the matter? whose hand's out?

Wit. Hey-day! what, are you all together, like players at the end of the last act?

Mira. You may remember, gentlemen, I once requested your hands as witnesses to a certain parchment.

Wit. Ay, I do; my hand I rememberlant set his mark.

-Petu

Pet. Not I. I writ; I read nothing. Mira. Very well, now you shall know.-Madam, your promise.

L. Wish. Ay, ay, sir, upon my honour.
Mira. Mr Fainall, it is now time that you

own disposal, and before you had by your insinuations wheedled her out of a pretended settlement of the greatest part of her fortune

Fain. Sir! pretended!

Mira. Yes, sir, I say that this lady, while a widow, having, it seems, received some cautions respecting your inconstancy and tyranny of temper, which, from her own partial opinion and fondness of you she could never have suspected -She did, I say, by the wholesome advice of friends, and of sages learned in the laws of this land, deliver this same as her act and deed to me in trust, and to the uses within mentioned. You may read if you please-[Holding out the parchment]-though perhaps what is written on the back may serve your occasions.

Fain. Very likely, sir. What's here? Damnation! [Reads.] "A deed of conveyance of the whole estate real of Arabella Languish, widow, in trust, to Edward Mirabell."-Confusion!

Mira. Even so, sir: 'tis "The Way of the World," sir; of the widows of the world. I suppose this deed may bear an elder date than what you have obtained from your lady.

Fain. Perfidious fiend! then thus I'll be revenged- [Offers to run at Mrs FAINALL. Sir Wil. Hold, sir; now you may make your Bear-garden flourish somewhere else, sir. Fain. Mirabell, you shall hear of this, sir, be sure you shall.-Let me pass, oaf.

[Exit. Mrs Fain. Madam, you seem to stifle your resentment: you had better give it vent.

Mrs Mar. Yes, it shall have vent-and to your confusion, or I'll perish in the attempt. [Exit. L. Wish. O, daughter, daughter! 'tis plain thou hast inherited thy mother's prudence.

Mrs Fain. Thank Mr Mirabell, a cautious friend, to whose advice all is owing.

L. Wish. Well, Mr Mirabell, you have kept your promise-and I must perform mine.-First, I pardon for your sake Sir Rowland there and Foible. The next thing is to break the matter to my nephew—and how to do that –

Mira. For that, madam, give yourself no trouble-let me have your consent— -Sir Wilfull is my friend; he has had compassion upon lovers, and generously engaged a volunteer in this action, for our service, and now designs to prosecute his travels.

Sir Wil. 'Sheart, aunt, I have no mind to mar

Wait. 'Egad, I understand nothing of the matter.-I'm in a maze yet, like a dog in a dancingschool.

L. Wish. Well, sir, take her, and with her all the joy I can give you.

Mill. Why does not the man take me? Would you have me give myself to you over again?

Mira. Ay, and over and over again; [Kisses her hund;] I would have you as often as possibly I can. Well, Heaven grant I love you not too well, that's all my fear.

Sir Wil. 'Sheart, you'll have time enough to toy after you're married; or if you will toy now, let us have a dance in the mean time, that we who are not lovers may have some other employment, besides looking on.

Mira. With all my heart, dear Sir Wilfull.— What shall we do for music?

Foi. O, sir, some that were provided for Sir Rowland's entertainment are yet within call.

[A dance.

L. Wish. As I am a person, I can hold out no longer-I have wasted my spirits so to-day already, that I am ready to sink under the fatigue; and I cannot but have some fears upon me yet, that my son Fainall will pursue some desperate

course.

Mira. Madam, disquiet not yourself on that account; to my knowledge his circumstances are such, he must of force comply. For my part, I will contribute all that in me lies to a re-union: in the mean time, madam, [To Mrs FAINALL,} let me, before these witnesses, restore to you this deed of trust; it may be a means, well managed, to make you live easily together.

From hence let those be warned who mean to wed,

Lest mutual falsehood stain the bridal bed;
For each deceiver to his cost may find,
That marriage frauds too oft are paid in kind.
[Exeunt omnes.

AFTER our epilogue this crowd dismisses,
I'm thinking how this play'll be pulled to pieces.
But pray consider, ere you doom its fall,
How hard a thing 'twould be to please you all.

There are some critics so with spleen diseased, They scarcely come inclining to be pleased: And sure he must have more than mortal skill, Who pleases any one against his will.

Then all bad poets, we are sure, are foes,
And how their number's swelled, the town well
knows;

In shoals I've marked 'em judging in the pit,
Though they're on no pretence for judgment fit,
But that they have been damned for want of wit;
Since when, they, by their own offences taught,
Set up for spies on plays, and finding fault.
Others there are whose malice we'd prevent;
Such, who watch plays with scurrilous intent
To mark out who by characters are meant:
And though no perfect likeness they can trace,
Yet each pretends to know the copied face.
These with false glosses feed their own ill na-
ture,

And turn to libel what was meant a satire.

May such malicious fops this fortune find,
To think themselves alone the fools designed;
If any are so arrogantly vain,

To think they singly can support a scene,
And furnish fool enough to entertain!
For well the learned and the judicious know,
That satire scorns to stoop so meanly low,
As any one abstracted fop to show;
For, as, when painters form a matchless face,
They from each fair one catch some different
grace,

And shining features in one portrait blend,
To which no single beauty must pretend;
So poets oft do in one piece expose

Whole belles assemblées of coquettes and beaux.

SINCE 'tis the intent and business of the stage
To copy out the follies of the age;
To hold to every man a faithful glass,
And shew him of what species he's an ass;
I hope the next that teaches in the school
Will shew our author he's a scribbling fool:
And that the satire may be sure to bite,
Kind Heav'n! inspire some venom'd priest to
write,

And grant some ugly lady may indite;
For I would have him lash'd, by Heav'n! I wou'd,
Till his presumption swam away in blood.
Three plays at once proclaim a face of brass;
No matter what they are; that's not the case:
To write three plays, e'en that's to be an ass.
But what I least forgive, he knows it too,
For to his cost he lately has known you.

Experience shews, to many a writer's smart,
You hold a court where mercy ne'er had part;
So much of the old serpent's sting you have,
You love to damn, as Heav'n delights to save.
In foreign parts, let a bold volunteer,
For public good, upon the stage appear,
He meets ten thousand smiles to dissipate his
fear.

All tickle on th' adventuring young beginner,
And only scourge the incorrigible sinner;
They touch, indeed, his faults, but with a hand
So gentle, that his merits still may stand;
Kindly they buoy the follies of his pen,
That he may shun 'em when he writes again.
But 'tis not so in this good-natur'd town,
All's one, an ox, a poet, or a crown:

Old England's play was always knocking down

SCENE I.-Sir JOHN BRUTE's House.

Enter Sir JOHN solus.

Sir John. What cloying meat is love-when matrimony's the sauce to it! Two years marriage has debauched my five senses. Every thing I see, every thing I hear, every thing I feel, every thing I smell, and every thing I taste-methinks has wife in't. No boy was ever so weary of his tutor, no girl of her bib, no nun of doing penance, or old maid of being chaste, as I am of being married. Sure there's a secret curse entailed upon the very name of wife. My lady is a young lady, a fine lady, a witty lady, a virtuous lady-and yet I hate her. There is but one thing on earth I loathe beyond her: that's fighting. Would my courage come up to a fourth part of my ill nature, I'd stand buff to her relations, and thrust her out of doors. But marriage has sunk me down to such an ebb of resolution, I dare not draw my sword, though even to get rid of my wife. But here she comes.

Enter Lady BRUTE.

L. Brute. Do you dine at home to-day, Sir John?

Sir John. Why, do you expect I should tell you what I don't know myself?

L. Brute. I thought there was no harm in asking you.

Sir John. If thinking wrong were an excuse for impertinence, women might be justified in most things they say or do.

L. Brute. I am sorry I have said any thing to displease you.

Sir John. Sorrow for things past, is of as little importance to me, as my dining at home or abroad ought to be to you.

L. Brute. My inquiry was only that I might have provided what you liked.

Sir John. Six to four you had been in the wrong there again; for what I liked yesterday I don't like to-day, and what I like to-day, 'tis odds I mayn't like to-morrow.

L. Brute. But if I had asked you what you liked? Sir John. Why, then there would be more asking about it than the thing is worth.

L. Brute. I wish I did but know how I might please you.

Sir John. Ay, but that sort of knowledge is not a wife's talent.

L. Brute. Whate'er my talent is, I'm sure my will has ever been to make you easy.

Sir John. If women were to have their wills, the world would be finely governed.

L. Brute. What reason have I given you to use me as you do of late? It once was otherwise: you married me for love.

Sir John. And you me for money; so you have your reward, and I have mine.

L. Brute. What is it that disturbs you?
Sir John. A parson.

L. Brute. Why, what has he done to you? Sir John. He has married me, and be damned to him. [Exit.

L. Brute. The devil's in the fellow, I think.I was told before I married him, that thus it would be; but I thought I had charms enough to govern him, and that where there was an estate, a woman must needs be happy; so my vanity has deceived me, and my ambition has made me uneasy. But there is some comfort still: if one would be revenged of him, these are good times; a woman may have a gallant, and a separate maintenance too. The surly puppy-yet he's a fool for❜t; for hitherto he has been no monster; but who knows how far he may provoke me? I never loved him, yet I have been ever true to him, and that in spite of all the attacks of art and nature upon a poor weak woman's heart, in favour of a tempting lover. Methinks so noble a defence as I have made should be rewarded with a better usageOr who can tell?-Perhaps a good part of what I suffer from my husband may be a judgment upon me for my cruelty to my lover.-But hold-let me go no further-I think I have a right to alarm this surly brute of mine-but if I know my heart, it will never let me go so far as to injure him. Enter BELINDA.

L. Brute. Good morrow, dear cousin. Bel. Good morrow, madam; you look pleased this morning.

L. Brute. I am so.

Bel. With what, pray?

L. Brute. With my husband.

Bel. Drown husbands; for yours is a provoking fellow. As he went out just now, I prayed him to tell me what time of day it was, and he asked me if I took him for the church clock, that was obliged to tell all the parish.

L. Brute. He has been saying some good obliging things to me too. In short, Belinda, he has used me so barbarously of late, that I could almost resolve to play the downright wife-and cuckold him.

Bel. That would be downright indeed.

L. Brute. Why, after all, there's more to be said for't than you'd imagine, child. He is the first aggressor, not I.

Bel. Ah, but you know we must return good for evil.

L. Brute. That may be a mistake in the translation. Pr'ythee, be of my opinion, Belinda: for I'm positive I'm in the right, and if you'll keep up the prerogative of a woman, you'll likewise be positive you are in the right, whenever you do