Ang. Mr. Scandal, I only stay till my maid comes, and because I have a mind to be rid of Mr. Tattle. Scand. Madam, I am very glad that I overheard a better reason which you gave to Mr. Tattle; for his impertinence forced you to acknowledge a kindness for Valentine, which you denied to all his sufferings and my solicitations. So I'll leave him to make use of the discovery; and your ladyship to the free confession of your inclinations.

Ang. Oh Heavens! you won't leave me alone with a madman?

Scand. No, madam; I only leave a madman to his remedy. [Exit. Val. Madam, you need not be very much afraid for I fancy I begin to come to myself.

Ang. Ay, but if I don't fit you, I'll be hang'd. [Aside. Val. You see what disguises love makes us put on. Gods have been in counterfeited shapes for the same reason; and the divine part of me, my mind, has worn this masque of madness, and this motley livery, only as the slave of love, and menial creature of your beauty.

Ang. Mercy on me, how he talks!-Poor Valentine! Val. Nay, faith, now let us understand one another, hypocrisy apart. The comedy draws towards an end; and let us think of leaving acting, and be ourselves; and, since you have loved me, you must own, I have at length deserved you should confess it.

Ang. [Sighs.] I would I had loved you!-for, Heaven knows, I pity you; and, could I have foreseen

the bad effects, I would have striven? but that's too late!

Val. What bad effects? what's too late?-My seeming madness has deceived my father, and procured me time to think of means to reconcile me to him, and preserve the right of my inheritance to his estate; which otherwise, by articles, I must this morning have resigned. And this I had informed you of today, but you were gone before I knew you had been

here.

Ang. How I thought your love of me had caused this transport in your soul; which, it seems you only counterfeited for mercenary ends and sordid interest.

Val. Nay, now you do me wrong; for, if any interest was considered, it was yours; since I thought I wanted more than love to make me worthy of you.

Ang. Then you thought me mercenary-But how am I deluded, by this interval of sense, to reason with a madman?

Val. Oh, 'tis barbarous to misunderstand me longer.

Enter JEREMY.

Ang. Oh, here's a reasonable creature--sure he will not have the impudence to persevere !-Come, Je. remy, acknowledge your trick, and confess your master's madness counterfeit.

Jer. Counterfeit, madam! I'll maintain him to be as absolutely and substantially mad, as any freeholder in Bedlam. Nay, he's as mad as any projector, fanatic, chemist, lover, or poet, in Europe.

Val. Sirrah, you lie; I'm not mad.

Ang. Ha, ha, ha! you see he denies it.

Jer. O Lord, madam, did you ever know any madman mad enough to own it ?

Val. Sot, can't you apprehend?

Ang. Why, he talked very sensibly just now. Jer. Yes, madam; he has intervals: but you see he begins to look wild again now.

Val. Why you thick-sculled rascal, I tell you the farce is done, and I'll be mad no longer. [Beats him. Ang. Ha, ha, ha! is he mad or no, Jeremy?

Jer. Partly, I think-for he does not know his own mind two hours. I'm sure I left him just now in the humour to be mad: and I think I have not found him very quiet at the present. [One knocks.] Who's

there?

Val. Go see, you sot. I'm very glad that I can move your mirth, though not your compassion.

Ang. I did not think you had apprehension enough to be exceptious: but madmen shew themselves most by over-pretending to a sound understanding, as drunken men do by over-acting sobriety. I was half inclining to believe you, till I accidentally touched upon your tender part. But now you have restored me to my former opinion and compassion.

Jer. Sir, your father has sent, to know if you are any better yet. Will you please to be mad, sir, or how?

Val. Stupidity! you know the penalty of all I'm worth must pay for the confession of my senses. I'm mad, and will be mad, to every body but this lady.

Jer. So;-just the very back-side of truth. But lying is a figure in speech, that interlards the greatest part of my conversation.-Madam, your ladyship's

woman.

Enter JENNY.

Ang. Well, have you been there?-Come hither. Jenny. Yes, madam; Sir Sampson will wait upon you presently. [Aside to Angelica.

Val. You are not leaving me in this uncertainty ? Ang. Would any thing but a madman complain of uncertainty Uncertainty and expectation are the joys of life. Security is an insipid thing; and the overtaking and possessing of a wish, discovers the folly of the chace. Never let us know one another better; for the pleasure of a masquerade is done, when we come to shew our faces. But I'll tell you two things before I leave you; I am not the fool you take me for; and you are mad, and don't know it.

[Exeunt Angelica and Jenny. Val. From a riddle you can expect nothing but a riddle. There's my instruction, and the moral of my lesson.

Jer. What, is the lady gone again, sir? I hope you understood one another before she went ?

Val. Understood! she is harder to be understood than a piece of Egyptian antiquity, or an Irish manu. script; you may pore till you spoil your eyes, and not improve your knowledge.

Jer. I have heard them say, sir, they read hard He

brew books backwards. May be you begin to read at the wrong end!

Val. They say so of a witch's prayer; and dreams and Dutch almanacks are to be understood by contraries. “But there is regularity and method in that ; "she is a medal without a reverse or inscription, for "indifference has both sides alike." Yet while she does not seem to hate me, I will pursue her, and know her if it be possible, in spite of the opinion of my satirical friend, who says,

That women are like tricks by slight of hand;
Which, to admire, we should not understand.

[Exeunt.

ACT V. SCENE 1.

A Room in FORESIGHT's House. Enter ANGELICA

and JENNY.

Angelica.

WHERE is Sir Sampson? did you not tell me he would be here before me ?

Jenny. He's at the great glass in the dining-room madam, setting his cravat and wig.

Ang. How! I'm glad on't.-If he has a mind I should like him, it's a sign he likes me; and that's more than half my design.

Jenny. I hear him, madam.

L