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Jer. No, sir, not yet. He has a mind to try whether his playing the madman won't make her play the fool, and fall in love with him; or at least own that she has loved him all this while, and concealed it.

Scand. I saw her take coach just now with her maid; and think I heard her bid the coachman drive hither.

Jer. Like enough, sir; for I told her maid this morning, my master was run stark mad, only for love of her mistress. I hear a coach stop: if it should be she, sir, I believe he would not see her, till he hears how she takes it.

Scand. Well, I'll try her-'tis she; here she comes.

Enter ANGELICA. Ang. Mr. Scandal, I suppose you don't think it a novelty, to see a woman visit a man at his own lodg. ings in a morning ?

Scand. Not upon a kind occasion, madam. But, when a lady comes tyrannically, to insult a ruined lover, and make manifest the cruel triumphs of her beauty, the barbarity of it something surprises me.

Ang. I don't like raillery from a serious face.Pray tell me what is the matter?

Fer. No strange matter, madam; my master's mad, that's all. I suppose your ladyship has thought him

great while.

Ang. How d’ye mean, mad?

Jer. Why, faith, madam, he's mad for want of his wits, just as he was poor for want of money.

His

head is e'en as light as his pockets; and any body that has a mind to a bad bargain, can't do better than to beg him for his estate.

dng. If you speak truth, your endeavouring at wit is very

unseasonable. Scand. She's concern'd, and loves him! [ Aside.

Ang. Mr. Scandal, you can't think me guilty of so much inhumanity, as not to be concerned for a man I must own myself obliged to.-Pray tell me the truth.

Scand. Faith, madam, I wish telling a lie would mend the matter. But this is no new effect of an unsuccessful passion.

Ang. [ Aside. ] I know not what to think! Yet I should be vext to have a trick put upon me!--May I not see him?

Scand. I'm afraid the physician is not willing you should see him yet.-Jeremy go in and enquire.

[Exit Jeremy. Ang, Ha! I saw him wink and smile! I fancy a trick.-P'll try. [ Aside. ]-I would disguise to all the world, sir, a failing which I must own to you~I fear my happiness depends upon the recovery of Valentine. Therefore I conjure you, as you are his friend, and as you have compassion on one fearful of afflic. tion, to tell me what I am to hope for I cannot speak—But you may tell me, for you know what I would ask.

Scand. So, this is preity plain !-Be not too much concerned, madam ; I hope his condition is not desperate. An acknowledgment of love from you, per

haps, may work a cure, as the fear of your aversion occasioned his distemper.

Ang. Say you so ? nay, then I'm convinced : and if I don't play trick for trick, may I never taste the pleasure of revenge! [ Aside. ]—Acknowledgment of love! I find you have mistaken my compassion, and think me guilty of a weakness I am a stranger to. But I have too much sincerity to deceive you, and too much charity to suffer him to be deluded with vain hopes. Good nature and humanity oblige me to be concerned for him; but to love, is neither in my power nor inclination ; " and if he can't be cured “ without I suck the poison from his wounds, I'm “afraid he won't recover his senses till I lose mine."

Scand. Hey, brave woman, i'faith! _Won't you see him then, if he desires it?

Ang. What signifies a madman's desires? besides, 'twould make me uneasy-If I don't see him, perhaps my concern for him may lessen-If I forget him, 'tis no more than he has done by himself; and now the surprise is over, methinks I'm not half so sorry as I

was.

Scand. So, faith, good-nature works apace; you were confessing just now an obligation to his love.

Ang. But I have considered that passions are unreasonable and involuntary. If he loves, he can't help it; and if I don't love, I cannot help it; no more than he can help his being a man,

or I my

being a woman; or no niore than I can help my want of inclination to stay longer here.

[Exit.

Scand. Humph I.-An admirable composition, faith, this same womankind !

Enter JEREMY Jer. What, is she gone, sir ?

Scand. Gone? why she was never here, nor any where else ; nor I don't know her if I see her, nor

you neither.

Jer. Good lackl what's the matter now? are any more of us to be mad? Why, sir, my master longs to see her; and is almost mad in good earnest with the joyful news of her being here.

Scand. We are all under a mistake.-Ask no questions, for I can't resolve you ; but I'll inform your

In the mean time, if our project succeed no better with his father than it does with his mistress, he may descend from his exaltation of madness into the road of common sense, and be content only to be made a fool with other reasonable people. I hear Sir Samp: son. You know your cue? I'll to your master. [Exit.

master.

Enter Sir SAMPSON and BUCKRAM. Sir S. D’ye see, Mr. Buckram, here's the paper signed with his own hand.

Buck. Good, sir. And the conveyance is ready drawn in this box, if he be ready to sign and seal.

Sir S. Ready! body o'me, he must be ready: his sham sickness sha'nt excuse him.-0, here's his scoundrel.--Sirrah, where's your master ?

Jer. Ah, sir, he's quite gone!

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Sir S. Gone! what, he's not dead ?
Jer, No, sir, not dead.

Sir S. What, is he gone out of town? run away? ha! has he trick'd me? Speak, varlet.

Jer. No, no, sir, he's safe enough, sir, an he were but as sound, poor gentleman ? He is indeed here, sir, and not here, sir.

Sir S. Hey-day, rascal, do you banter me ? sirrah, d'ye banter mei-Speak, sirrah; where is he? for I will find him.

Jer. Would you could, sir; for he has lost himself. Indeed, sir, I have almost broke my heart about him— I can't refrain tears when I think on him, sir : I'm as melancholy for him as a passing-bell, sir ; or a horse in a pond.

Sir S. A pox confound your similitudes, sir :Speak to be understood ; and tell me in plain terms what the matter is with him, or I'll crack your fool's scull.

Jer. Ah, you've hit it, sir ; that's the matter with him, sir; his scull's crack'd poor gentleman! he's stark mad, sir.

Sir S. Mad!
Buck. What, is he non compos?
Jer. Quite non compos, sir.

Buck. Why then, all's obliterated, Sir Sampson. If he be non compos mentis, his act and deed will be of no effect; it is not good in law.

Sir S. Oons, I won't believe it; let me see him, sir.-Mad! I'll make him find his senses.

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