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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 to. day, 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 le-Come, Je. remy, acknowledge your trick, and confess your mas. ter's madness counterfeit.
fer. 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, fana. tic, chemist, lover, or poet, in Europe,
Val. Sirrah, you lie; I'm not mad.
mad man mad enough to own it?
Val. Sot, can't you apprehend ?
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 şot. 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 sonnd 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
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 oi 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 ol 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 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;
ACT V. SCENE I.
A Room in FORESIGHT's House.
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.
Ang. Leave me; and, d'ye hear, if Valentine should come, or send, I'm not to be spoken with. [Exit Jenny.
Enter Sir SAMPSON. Sir S. I have not been honoured with the commands of a fair lady a great while.--Odd, madam, you have revived me-not since I was five and thirty.
Ang. Why, you have no great reason to complain, Sir Sampson; that's not long ago.
Sir. S. Zooks, but it is, madam, a very great while ; to a man that admires a fine woman as much as I do.
Ang. You're an absolute courtier, Sir Sampson.
Sir S. Not at all, madam. Odsbud, you wrong me: I am not so old neither, to be a bare courtier, only a man of words. Odd, I have warm blood about me yet, and can serve a lady any way.-Come, come, let me tell you, you women think a man old too soon, faith and troth you do. Come, don't despise fifty ; odd, fifty, in a hale constitution, is no such contemptible age!
Ang. Fifty a contemptible agel not at all : a very fashionable
I think I assure you, I know very considerable beaux, that set a good face upon fifty.Fifty! I have seen fifty in a side-box, by candle-light, out-blossom five-and-twenty.
Sir S. Outsides, outsides; a pize take them, mere out-sides. Hang your side-box beaux; no, I'm none of those, none of your forced trees, that pretend to blossom in the fall ; and bud when they should bring forth fruit. I am of a long-liv'd race, and inherit