'MONGST all the rules the ancients had in vogue,
We find no mention of an epilogue,
Which plainly shows they're innovations, brought
Since rules, design, and nature, were forgot;
The custom therefore our next play shall break,
But now a joyful motive bids us speak;
For while our arms return with conquest home,
While children prattle Vigo and the boom,
Is't fit the mouth of all mankind, the stage, be
dumb?

While the proud Spaniards read old annals o'er,
And on the leaves in lazy safety pore,
Essex and Raleigh thunder on their shore;
Again their donships start and mend their speed,
With the same fear of their forefathers dead.
While Amadis de Gaul laments in vain,
And wishes his young Quixote out of Spain:
While foreign forts are but beheld and seized,
While English hearts tumultuously are pleased,
Shall we, whose sole subsistence purely flows
From minds in joy, or undisturbed repose,
Shall we behold each face with pleasure glow,
Unthankful to the arms that made them so?

Shall we not say

Old English honour now revives again,
Memorably fatal to the pride of Spain;
But hold

While Anne repeats the vengeance of Eliza's reign!

For to the glorious conduct sure that drew
A senate's grateful vote our adoration's due;
From that alone all other thanks are poor,
The old triumphing Romans ask'd no more,
And Rome indeed gave all within its power.
But your superior stars, that knew too well
You English heroes should old Rome's excel,
To crown your arms beyond the bribes of spoil,
Raised English beauty to reward your toil :
Though seized of all the rifled world bad lost,
So fair a circle [To the bores.] Rome could never
boast.

Proceed, auspicious Chiefs! inflame the war,
Pursue your conquest, and possess the fair,
That ages may record of them and you,
They only could inspire what you alone could do.

Of all the various vices of the age,
And shoals of fools exposed upon the stage,
How few are lasht that call for satire's rage!
What can you think to see our plays so full
Of madmen, coxcombs, and the drivelling fool?
Of cits, of sharpers, rakes and roaring bullies,
Of cheats, of cuckolds, aldermen and cullies?
Would not one swear, 'twere taken for a rule,
That satire's rod, in the dramatic school,
Was only meant for the incorrigible fool?
As if too vice and folly were confined
To the vile scum alone of human kind,
Creatures a muse should scorn; such abject

trash

Deserves not satire's, but the hangman's lash.
Wretches, so far shut out from sense of shame,
Newgate or Bedlam only should reclaim;
For satire ne'er was meant to make wild monsters
tame.
No, sirs-

We rather think the persons fit for plays,
Are they whose birth and education says
They've every help that should improve mankind,
Yet still are slaves to a vile tainted mind;
Such as in wit are often seen to abound,
And yet have some weak part where folly's found:
For follies sprout, like weeds, highest in fruitful
ground.

And, 'tis observed, the garden of the mind
To no infestive weed's so much inclined
As the rank pride that some from affectation
find:

A folly too well known to make its court
With most success among the better sort.
Such are the persons we to-day provide,
And nature's fools for once are laid aside.
This is the ground on which our play we build,
But in the structure, must to judgment yield:
And where the poet fails in art, or care,
We beg your wonted mercy to the player.

SCENE I.-Sir CHARLES EASY's Lodgings.

Enter Lady EASY.

condi

Lady Easy. Was ever woman's spirit, by an injurious husband, broke like mine? A vile licentious man! must he bring home his follies, too? Wrong me with my very servant! O! how tedious a relief is patience! and yet, in my tion, 'tis the only remedy for to reproach him with my wrongs, is taking on myself the means of a redress, bidding defiance to his falsehood, and naturally but provokes him to undo me. The uneasy thought of my continual jealousy may teaze him to a fixed aversion; and hitherto, though he neglects, I cannot think he hates me. It must be so since I want power to please him, he never shall upbraid me with an attempt of making him uneasy-My eyes and tongue shall yet be blind and silent to my wrongs; nor would I have him think my virtue could suspect him, till, by some gross, apparent proof of his misdoing, he forces me to see-and to forgive it.

Enter EDGING, hastily.

Edg. O madam!

Lady Easy. What's the matter?

Edg. I have the strangest thing to shew your ladyship—such a discovery

down, after he came in from hunting, he sent me into his dressing-room, to fetch his snuff-box out of his waistcoat pocket; and so, as i was searching for the box, madam, there I found this wicked letter from a mistress; which I had no sooner read, but, I declare it, my very blood rose at him again; methought I could have torn him and her to pieces.

Lady Easy. Intolerable! This odious thing's jealous of him herself, and wants me to join with her in a revenge upon him-Sure I am fallen, indeed! But 'twere to make me lower yet, to let her think I understand her. [dside.

Edg. Nay, pray, madam, read it; you will be out of patience at it.

Lady Easy. You are bold, mistress; has my indulgence, or your master's good humour, flattered you into the assurance of reading his letters? a liberty I never gave myself-Here-lay it where you had it immediately-Should he know of your sauciness, 'twould not be my favour could protect you. [Exit Lady EASY.

Edg. Your favour! marry come up? sure I don't depend upon your favour! It's not come to that, I hope. Poor creature !-don't you think I am my master's mistress for nothing. You shall find, madam, I won't be snapt up as I have been-Not but it vexes me to think she should not be as uneasy as I. I am sure he is a

Edg. The business, madam? I have not pa tience to tell you; I am out of breath at the very thoughts on't; I shall not be able to speak this half hour.

Lady Easy. Not to the purpose, I believe! but, methinks, you talk impertinently with a great deal of ease.

Edg. Nay, madam, perhaps not so impertinent as your ladyship thinks; there is that will speak to the purpose, I am sure-A base man

[Gives a letter. Lady Easy. What is this? An open letter! Whence comes it?

Edg. Nay, read it, madam; you will soon guess-If these are the tricks of husbands, keep me a maid still, say I.

Lady Easy. [Looking on the superscription.] To Sir Charles Easy! Ha! Too well I know this hateful hand. O my heart! but I must veil my jealousy, which 'tis not fit this creature should suppose I am acquainted with. [Aside.] This direction is to your master; how came you by it?

Edg. Why, madam, as my master was lying

that she should not think him as bad to her every jot. If I am wronged, sure she may very well expect it, that is but his wife-A conceited thing

she need not be so easy, neither—I am as handsome as she, I hope-Here's my master-I'll try whether I am to be huffed by her or no.

[Walks behind.

Enter Sir CHARLES EASY.

Sir Cha. So! The day is come again !—Life but rises to another stage, and the same dull journey is before us. How like children do we judge of happiness! When I was stinted in my fortune, almost every thing was a pleasure to me, because most things then being out of my reach, I had always the pleasure of hoping for them; now fortune's in my hand, she is as insipid as an old acquaintance-It is mighty silly faith! Just the same thing by my wife, too; I am told she is extremely handsome-nay, and have heard a great many people say, she is certainly the best woman in the world-Why, I don't know but she may; yet I could never find that her person or good qualities gave me any concern. In my eye the woman has no more charms than my mother.

Edg. Hum! he takes no notice of me yet

I'll let him sec I can take as little notice of him. [She walks by him gravely; he turns her about and holds her; she struggles.] Pray, sir!

Sir Cha. A pretty pert air, that--I'll humour it-What's the matter, child? Are not you well? Kiss me, hussy.

Edg. No, the deuce fetch me if I do! Sir Cha. Has any thing put thee out of humour, love?

Edg. No, sir, 'tis not worth my being out of humour at-though, if ever you have any thing to say to me again, I'll be burned.

Sir Cha. Somebody has belied me to thee. Edg. No, sir, 'tis you have belied yourself to me-Did not I ask you, when you first made a fool of me, if you would be always constant to me? and did not you say I might be sure you would? And here, instead of that, you are going on in your old intrigue with my lady Graveairs. Sir Cha. So

Edg. Beside, don't you suffer my lady to huff me every day as if I were her dog, or had no more concern with you-I declare I won't bear it, and she sha'n't think to huff me-for aught I know, I am as agreeable as she: and though she dares not take any notice of your baseness to her, you sha'n't think to use me so-and so, pray, take your nasty letter-I know the hand well enough-for my part, I won't stay in the family to be abused at this rate; I that have refused lords and dukes for your sake. I'd have you to know, sir, I have had as many blue and green ribbons after me, for aught I know, as would have made me a falbala apron.

Sir Cha. My lady Graveairs! my nasty letter! and I won't stay in the family! Death! I'm in a pretty condition!-What an unlimited privilege has this jade got from being a whore!

Edg. I suppose, sir, you think to use every body as you do your wife.

Sir Cha. My wife! hah! Come hither, Mrs

Edging; hark you, drab.

Edg. Oh!

[Seizing her by the shoulder.

Sir Cha. When you speak of my wife, you are to say your lady, and you are never to speak of your lady to me in any regard of her being my wife-for, look you, child, you are not her strumpet, but mine; therefore, I only give you leave to be saucy with me. In the next place, you are never to suppose there is any such person as my lady Graveairs; and lastly, my pretty one, how came you by this letter?

Edg. It's no matter, perhaps.

Sir Cha. Ay, but if you should not tell me quickly, how are you sure I won't take a great piece of flesh out of your shoulder, my dear? [Shakes her. Edg. O lud! O lud! I will tell you, sir. Sir Cha. Quickly then.

Edg. Oh I took it out of your pocket, sir.
Sir Cha. When?

Edg. Oh! this morning, when you sent me for your snuff-box.

VOL. III,

|

My dear, how do you do? You are dressed very early to-day are you going out?

Lady Easy: Only to church, my dear.
Sir Cha. Is it so late, then?

Lady Easy. The bell has just rung.

Sir Cha. Well, child, how does Windsor air agree with you? Do you find yourself any 1 - tter yet? or have you a mind to go to London again?

Lady Easy. No, indeed, my dear; the air is so very pleasant, that if it were a place of less company, I could be content to end my days here.

Sir Cha. Pr'ythee, my dear, what sort of company would most please you?

Lady Easy. When business would permit it, yours; and, in your absence, a sincere friend, that were truly happy in an honest husband, to sit a cheerful hour, and talk in mutual praise of our condition.

Sir Cha. Are you then really very happy, my dear?

Lady Easy. Why should you question it? [Smiling on him. Sir Cha. Because I fancy I am not so good to you as I should be.

Lady Easy. Pshaw!

Sir Cha. Nay, the deuce take me if I don't really confess myself so bad, that I have often wondered how any woman of your sense, rank, and person, could think it worth her while to have so many useless good qualities