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Men.
Mr. Moody.
Mr. Kemble.
Mr. Bensley.
Mr. Dodd.
Mr. Bannister, jun.
Mr. Parsons.
Mr. Baddeley.
Mr. Waldron.
Mr. Phillimore.

Women.
Miss Farren.
Mrs. Ward.
Miss Pope.
Mrs. Jordan.
Mrs. Hopkins.
Miss Tidswell.

ANGELICA
Mrs. FORESIGHT
Mrs. FRAIL
Miss PRUE
NURSE
JENNY

COVENT-GARDEN.

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Men. SIR SAMPSON LEGEND

Mr. Fearon. VALENTINE

Mr. Holman. SCANDAL

Mr. Farren. TATTLE

Mr. Lewis. BEN

Mr. Ryder. FORESIGHT

Mr. Quick. JEREMY

Mr. Davies. TRAPLAND

Mr. Booth. BUCKRAM

Mr. Stock,

Women. ANGELICA

Mrs. Pope. Mrs. FORESIGHT

Mrs. Bates. Mrs. FRAIL

Mrs. Mattocks. Miss PRUB

Mrs. Brown. NURSE

Mrs. Pitt.
JENNY

Miss Brangin.
A Steward, Officers, Sailors, and several Servants.

London.

SCENE,

LOVE FOR LOVE.

ACTI. SCENE 1.

VALENTINE, in his Chamber reading; Jeremy waiting.

Several Books upon the Table.

Valentine. JEREMY!

Jer. Sir,

Val. Here, take away ; I'll walk a turn, and digest what I have read. Jer. You'll grow devilish fat upon this

paper

diet! [Aside, and taking away the books. Val. And d'ye heari go you to breakfast - There's a page doubled down in Epictetus, that is a feast for an emperor,

fer. Was Epictetus a real cook, or did he only write receipts ?

Val. Read, read, sirrah, and refine your appetite; learn to live

upon
instruction;

feast
your

mind, and mortify your flesh. Read and take your nourish

B

ment in at your eyes; shut up your mouth, and chew the cud of understanding. So Epictetus advises.

Jer. O Lord! I have heard much of him, when I waited upon a gentleman at Cambridge. Pray what was that Epictetus ?

Val. A very rich man—not worth a groat.

Jer. Humph! and so he has made a very fine feast, where there is nothing to be eaten.

Val. Yes.

Jer. Sir, you're a gentleman, and probably understand this fine feeding : but, if you please, I had rather be at board-wages. Does your Epictetus, or your Seneca here, or any of these poor rich rogues, teach you how to pay your debts without money? Will they shut up the mouths of your creditors? Will Plato be bail for you ? or Diogenes, because he understands confinement, and lived in a tub, go to prison for you > 'Slife, sir, what do you mean, to mew yourself up here with three or four musty books, in commendation of starving and poverty?

Val. Why, sirrah, I have no money, you know it; and therefore resolve to rail at all that have : and in that I but follow the examples of the wisest and wittiest men in all ages—these poets and philosophers, whom you naturally hate, for just such another rea. son; because they abound in sense, and you are a fool.

Jer. Ay, sir, I am a fool, I know it: and yet, Heaven help me, I'm poor enough to be a wit.-But I was always a fool, when I told you

what

your

ex

pences would bring you to; your coaches and your liveries ; your treats and your balls ; your being in love with a lady that did not care a farthing for you in your prosperity; and keeping company with wits, that cared for nothing but your prosperity, and now when you are poor, hate you as much as they do one another.

Vat. Well! and now I am poor, I have an oppor.. tunity to be revenged on them all ; I'll pursue Angelica with more love than ever, and appear more notoriously her admirer in this restraint, than when I openly rivaled the rich fops that made court to her. So shall my poverty be a mortification to her pride, and perhaps make her compassionate the love, which has principally reduced me to this lowness of fortune. And for the wits, I'm sure I am in a condition to be even with them.

Jer. Nay, your condition is pretty even with theirs, that's the truth on't.

Val. I'll take some of their trade out of their hands.

Jer. Now Heaven of mercy continue the tax upon paper! You don't mean to write ?

Val. Yes, I do; I'll write a play.

Jer. Hem !-Sir, if you please to give me a small certificate of three lines-only to certify those whom it may concern, That the bearer hereof, Jeremy Fetch by name, has for the space of seven years truly and faithfully served Valentine Legend, Esquire; and that he is not now turned away

misdemeanour

for any

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