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 mad

man 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 manuscript; 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

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 age! not at all: a very fashionable age, 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

vigour. None of my ancestors married till fifty; yet they begot sons and daughters till fourscore. I am of your patriarchs, I, a branch of one of your Antediluvian families, fellows that the flood could not wash away. Well, madam, what are your commands? Has any young rogue affronted you, and shall I cut his throat; or

Ang. No, Sir Sampson, I have no quarrel upon my hands I have more occasion for your conduct than your courage at this time. To tell you the truth, I'm weary of living single, and want a husband.

Sir S. Odsbud, and it is pity you should!-Odd, would she would like me! then I should hamper my young rogues: odd, would she would; faith and troth, she's devilish handsome! [Aside.]-Madam, you deserve a good husband! and 'twere pity you should be thrown away upon any of these young idle rogues about the town. Odd, there's ne'er a young fellow worth hanging-that is, a very young fellow

-Pize on them, they never think beforehand of any thing-and if they commit matrimony, 'tis as they commit murder; out of a frolic; and are ready to hang themselves, or to be hanged by the law the next morning. Odso, have a care, madam.

Ang. Therefore I ask your advice, Sir Sampson. I have fortune enough to make any man easy that I can like; if there were such a thing as a young agreeable man, with a reasonable stock of good-nature and sense for I would neither have an absolute wit, nor a fool.