logue of diseases already; there's not another left to put in her head. Dr Bol. Then, I'll make her go them over again. Enter CARELESS. Care. So, here's the old levee, doctor and apothecary in close consultation! Now will I demolish the quack and his medicines before her face. Mr Rhubarb, your servant. Pray, what have you got in your hand there? Rhu. Only a julep and composing draught for my lady, sir. Care. Have you so, sir? Pray, let me see Care. Nay, if you won't believe me- [Frighted, and leaning upon SYL. Lady Dain. You take a very preposterous way, I can tell you, sir. great while, but 'twould not do-nay, had you had as little wit as good-nature, should have proceeded to dance and sing. Tell me but how, what face or form can worship you, and behold your votary. Lady Dain. Not, sir, as the Persians do the sun, with your face towards me. The best proof you can give of your horrid devotion, is never to see me more. Come, my dear. [Exit LADY DAIN. Syl. I'm amazed so much assurance should not succeed. [Exit. SYL. Care. All this shan't make me out of love with my virtue. Impudence has ever been a successful quality, and 'twould be hard, indeed, if I should be the first that did not thrive by it. [Exit. SCENE II.-CLERIMORT'S Lodgings. Enter ATALL, and FINDER, his man. Atall. You are sure you know the house again? Fin. Ah, as well as I do the upper gallery, sir.Tis sir Solomon Sadlife's, at the two glass lanthorns, within three doors of my lord duke's. Atall. Very well, sir-then take this letter, enquire for my lady Sadlife's woman, and stay for an answer. Fin. Yes, sir. Erit. FIN. Care. I can't tell how I succeed, but I am Atall. Well, I find 'tis as ridiculous to propose sure I endeavour right; for I study every moru-pleasure in love without variety of mistresses, as ing new impertinence to entertain you: for, since I find nothing but dogs, doctors, and monkies are your favourites, it is very hard, if your ladyship won't admit me as one of the number. to pretend to be a keen sportsman without a good stable of horses. How this lady may prove, I can't tell; but, if she is not a reedy tit at the bottom, I'm no jockey. Re-enter FINDER. Fin. Sir, here are two letters for you. Lady Dain. When I find you of an equal merit with my monkey, you shall be in the same state of favour. I confess, as a proof of your wit, you have done nie as much mischief here. But you have not half pug's judgment, nor his spirit; for the creature will do a world of plea-sire an answer. sant things, without caring whether one likes them or not. Care. Why, truly, madam, the little gentleman, my rival, I believe, is much in the right on't: and, if you observe, I have taken as much pains of late to disoblige, as to please you, Lady Dain. You succeed better in one than t'other, I can tell you, sir. | Fin. A couple of footmen, and they both de Atall. Bid them stay, and do you make haste where I ordered you. Fin. Yes, sir. [Exit. Atall. To col. Standfast-that's Clarinda's hand To Mr Freeman-that must be my incognita. Ah, I have most mind to open this first;-but, if t'other malicious creature should have pervert. ed her growing inclination to me, 'twould put my Care. I am glad on't; for, if you had not whole frame in a trembling-Hold, I'll guess me now and then to plague you, what would my fate by degrees-this may give me a glimpse you do for a pretence to be chagrined, to faint, of it. [Reads CLARINDA's letter.] Umum-um have the spleen, the vapours, and all those mo--Ha! To meet her at my lady Sadlife's, at seven dish disorders, that so nicely distinguish a woman o'clock to-night, and take no manner of notice of quality? of my late disowning myself to her-Something's at the bottom of all this.Now, to solve the riddle. [Reads the other letter.] My cousin Cla'rinda has told some things of you, that very 'much alarm me; but, I am willing to suspend my belief of them till I see you, which 1 desire may be at my lady Sadlife's, at seven this evening. The devil! the same place!- As 'you value the real friendship of your Lady Dain. I am perfectly confounded !— Certainly there are some people too impudent for our resentment. Care. Modesty's a starving virtue, madam; an old threadbare fashion of the last age, and would sit as oddly on a lover now, as a picked beard and mustachios. Lady Dain. Most astonishing! Care. I have tried sighing and looking silly a ♦ INCOGNITA, So, now the riddle's out-the rival queens are fairly come to a reference, and one or both of them I must lose, that's positive.--Hard! Enter CLERIMONT. Hard fortune! Now, poor Impudence, what will become of thee? Oh, Clerimont, such a complication of adventures since I saw thee! such sweet hopes, fears, and unaccountable difficulties, sure never poor dog was surrounded with! Cle. Oh, you are an industrious person! you'll get over them. But, pray, let's hear. Enter SIR SOLOMON leading LADY SADLIFE, and WISHWELL, her woman. Sir Sol. There, madam, let me have no more of these airings.-No good, I am sure, can keep a woman five or six hours abroad in a morning. Lady Sad. You deny me all the innocent freedoms of life. Atall. To begin, then, in the climax of my misfortunes:-In the first place, the private lodgings, that my incognita appointed to receive me in, prove to be the very individual habitation of my other mistress, whom (to complete the Sir Sol. Ha! you have the modish cant of blunder of my ill luck) she civilly introduced in this end of the town, I see. Intriguing, gamperson, to recommend me to her better acquaint-ing, gadding, and party-quarries, with a pox to ance. Cle. Ha, ha! Death! how could you stand them both together? Atall. The old way-buff-I stuck like a burr to my name of Freeman, addressed my incognita before the other's face, and, with a most unmoved good-breeding, harmlessly faced her down I had never seen her in my life before. Cle. The prettiest modesty I ever heard of! Well, but how did they discover you at last? Atall. Why, faith, the matter's yet in suspence; and, I find, by both their letters, that they don't yet well know what to think: but, (to go on with my luck) you must know, they have since both appointed me, by several names, to meet them at one and the same place, at seven o'clock this evening. Cle. Ah! Atall. And, lastly, to crown my fortune (as if the devil himself most triumphantly rode a-straddle upon my ruin) the fatal place of their appointment happens to be the very house of a third lady, with whom I made an acquaintance since morning, and had just before sent word I would visit near the same hour this evening. Cle. Oh, murder! Poor Atall, thou art really fallen under the last degree of compassion. Atall. And, yet, with a little of thy assistance, in the middle of their small-shot, I don't still despair of holding my head above water. Cle. Death! but you can't meet them both; you must lose one of them, unless you can split yourself. Atall. Prithee, don't suspect my courage or my modesty; for, I'm resolved to go on, if you will stand by me. Cle. Faith, my very curiosity would make me do that. But what can I do? Atall. You must appear for me, upon occasion, in person. Cle. With all my heart. What else? them, are innocent freedoms, forsooth! Lady Sad. I don't know what you mean; I'm sure I have not one acquaintance in the world, that does an ill thing. Sir Sol. They must be better looked after than your ladyship then; but I'll mend my hands as fast as I can.. Do you look to your reputation henceforward, and I'll take care of your person. Lady Sad. You wrong my virtue with these unjust suspicions. Sir Sol. Ay, it's no matter for that; better I wrong it than you. I'll secure my doors for this day at least. [Exit. Lady Sad. Oh, Wishwell! what shall I do? Wish. What's the matter, madam? Lady Sad. I expect a letter from a gentleman every minute; and if it should fall into sir Solomon's hands, I'm ruined past redemption. Wish. He won't suspect it, madam, sure, if they are directed to me, as they used to be. Lady Sad. But his jealousy's grown so violent of late, there's no trusting to it now. If he meets it, I shall be locked up for ever. Wish. Oh, dear madam! I vow your ladyship frights me- -Why, he'll kill me for keeping counsel. Lady Sad. Run to the window, quick, and watch the messenger. [Exit WISH.] Ah, there's my ruin near-I feel it-[4 knocking at the door.]-What shall I do? Be very insolent, or very humble, and cry?—I have known some women, upon these occasions, outstrut their husbands' jealousy, and make them ask pardon for finding them out. Oh, lud! here he comes! -I can't do't; My courage fails me--I must e'en stick to my handkerchief, and trust to nature. Re-enter SIR SOLOMON, taking a letter from FINDER. Sir Sol. Sir, I shall make bold to read this letter; and if you have a mind to save your bones, there's your way out. Fin. Oh, terrible! I shan't have a whole one in my skin, when I come home to my master. [Exit. and next time, bid him take better care than to send his letter so publicly. Wish. Yes, madam. But now your ladyship has read it, I'd fain beg the honour of sir Solomon to answer it for me; for I can't write. Lady Sad. Not write! Sir Sol. Nay, he thinks she's above that, I suppose; for he calls her divine creature-A pretty piece of divinity, truly!-But, come, my dear; 'egad, we'll answer it for her. Here's paper Lady Sad. [Aside.] I'm lost for ever! Sir Sol. [Reads.] Pardon, most divine creature, the impatience of my heart'-Very well! these are her innocent freedoms! Ah, cockatrice! which languishes for an opportunity to 'convince you of its sincerity;'-Oh, the ten-you shall do it. der son of a whore which nothing could relieve, but the sweet hope of seeing you this evening.'-Poor lady, whose virtue I have wronged with unjust suspicions! Lady Sad. I'm ready to sink with apprehension. Lady Sad. I, sir Solomon! Lard, I won't write Wish. Aye, pray, good madam, do. Sir Sol. Well, well, I'll dictate, then. Come, begin. Lady Sad. Lard, this is the oddest fancy![Sits to write. Sir Sol. Come, come-Dear sir-(for we'll be as loving as he, for his ears.) Wish. No, pray madam, begin, Dear honey, Sir Sol. [Reads.] To-night, at seven, expect your dying Strephon'-Die, and be damned! for I'll remove your comforter, by cutting her throat. I could find in my heart to ram his impudent letter into her windpipe-Ha! what's this!To Mrs Wishwell, my lady Sadlife's woman.'-Ad, I'm glad of it' with all my heart! What a happy thing it is to have onc's jealousy disappointed!--Now have I been cursing my poor wife for the mistaken wickedness of that trollop! 'Tis well I kept my thoughts to my-or, My dearest angel. self: for the virtue of a wife, when wrongfully accused, is most unmercifully insolent. Come, I'll do a great thing; I'll kiss her, and make her amends What's the matter, my dear? Has any thing frighted you? Lady Sad. Nothing but your hard usage. Sir Sol. Come, come, dry thy tears; it shall be so no more. But, hark ye, I have made a discovery here--Your Wishwell, I'm afraid, is a slut; she has an intrigue. Lady Sad. An intrigue! Heavens, in our family! -Im Sir Sol. Read there-I wish she be honest. Lady Sad. How!--If there be the least ground to think it, sir Solomon, positively she shan't stay a minute in the.. housepudent creature!—have an affair with a mau! Sir Sol. But hold, my dear; don't let your virtuc censure too severely neither. Lady Sad. I shudder at the thoughts of her. Sir Sol. Patience, I say-How do we know but his courtship may be honourable? Lady Sud. That, indeed, requires some pause. Wish. [Peeping in.] So, all's safe, I see- -He thinks the letter's to me-Oh, good madam ! that letter was to me, the fellow says. I wonder, sir, how you could serve one so! If my sweetheart should hear you had opened it, I know he would not have me, so he would not. Sir Sol. Never fear that: for if he is in love with you, he's too much a fool to value being aughed at. Lady Sad. If it be yours, here take your stuff; Lady Sad. Out, you fool! You must not be so fond-Dear sir, is very well. [Writes. Sir Sol. Aye, aye, so 'tis; but these young fillies are for setting out at the top of their speed. But, prithee, Wishwell, what is thy lover? for the style of his letter may serve for a countess ? Wish. Sir, he's but a butler at present; but he's a good schollard, as you may see by his hand-writing; and, in time, may come to be a steward; and then we shan't be long without a coach, sir. Lady Sad. Dear sir next? -What must I write [Musing. Wish. Hoping you are in good health,” as I am at this present writing. Sir Sol. You puppy, he'll laugh at you. Wish. I'm sure iny mother used to begin all her letters so. Sir Sol. And thou art every inch of thee her own daughter, that I'll say for thee. Lady Sad. Come, I have done it.-[Reads.]— Dear sir, she must have very little merit that is 'insensible of yours.' Sir Sol. Very well, faith! Write all yourself. Wish, Aye, good madam, do; that's better than mine. But, pray, dear madam, let it end with, So I rest your dearest loving friend, till death us do part. Lady Sad. [Aside.]-This absurd slut will make me laugh out. Sir Sol. But, hark you, hussy; suppose now you should be a little scornful and insolent to shew your breeding, and a little ill-natured in it to shew your wit? Wish. Aye, sir, that is, if I designed him for my gallant; but, since he is to be but my husband, I must be very good-natured and civil before I have him; and huff him, and shew my wit after. Sir Sol. Here's a jade for you!-[Aside.]— But why must you huff your husband, hussy? Wish. Oh. sir, that's to give him a good opinion of my virtue! for you know, sir, a husband cannot think one could be so very domineering, if one were not very honest. Sir Sol. 'Sbud, this fool, on my conscience, speaks the sense of the whole sex!' [Aside. Wish. Then, sir, I have been told, that`a husband loves one the better, the more one hectors him; as a spaniel does, the more one beats him. Sir Sol. Ha! Thy husband will have a blessed time on't. Lady Sad. So I have done. Lady Sad. [Reads. Dear sir—She must have very little merit that is insensible of yours; and, while you continue to love, and tell me so, expect whatever you can hope from so much wit, and such unfeigned sincerity-At the hour you mention, you will be truly welcome to your passionate Sir Sol. Lipsamintha! Lady Sad. No, come, I'll write Celia. Here, go in and seal it. Sir Sol. Ay, come, I'll lend you a wafer, that he mayn't wait for your ladyship. Wish. Pshaw! you always flout one. [Exeunt SIR SOL. and WISH. Lady Sad. So, this is luckily over— -Well, I see, a woman should never be discouraged from coming off at the greatest plunge; for, though I was half dead with the fright, yet, now, I am a little recovered, I find That apprehension does the bliss endear; [Exit. ACT IV. SCENE I-SIR SOLOMON'S. Enter LADY SADLIFE, ATALL, and WISHWELL, with lights. Lady Sad. THIS room, I think, is pleasanter; if you please, we'll sit here, sir-Wishwell, shut the door, and take the key o' the inside, and set chairs Wish. Yes, madam. Lady Sad. Lard, sir, what a strange opinion you must have of me, for receiving your visits upon so slender an acquaintance! Atall. I have a much stranger opinion, madam, of your ordering your servant to lock herself in with us. Lady Sad. Oh, you would not have us wait upon ourselves? Atall. Really, madam, I cannot conceive, that two lovers, alone, have much occasion for attendance. [They sit. Lady Sad. Lovers! Lard, how you talk!Can't people converse without that stuff? Atall. Um-Yes, madam, people may; but, without a little of that stuff, conversation is generally very apt to be insipid. Lady Sad. Pooh! why, we can say any thing without her hearing, you see. Atall. Aye; but if we should talk ourselves up to an occasion of being without her, it would look worse to send her out, than to have let her wait without, when she was without. Lady Sad. You are pretty hard to please, I find, sir. Some men, I believe, would think themselves well used in so free a reception as yours. Atall. Ha! I see this is like to come to nothing this time; so I'll e'en put her out of humour, that I may get off in time to my incognita. [Aside.] Really, madam, I can never think myself free, where my hand and my tongue are tied. [Pointing to WISHWELL. Lady Sad. Your conversation, I find, is very different from what it was, sir. Atall. With submission, madam, I think it very proper for the place we are in. If you had sent for me only to sip tea, to sit still, and be civil, with my hat under my arm, like a strange relation from Ireland, or so, why was I brought hither with so much caution and privacy? [SIR SOLOMON knocks at the door. Wish. Oh, Heavens ! my master, madam! Sir Sol. [Within.] Open the door there! Lady Sad. What shali we do? Atall. Nothing now, I'm sure. Lady Sad. Open the door, and say the gentleman came to you. Wish. Oh, lud, madam, I shall never be able to manage it at so short a warning! We had better shut the gentleman into the closet, and say he came to nobody at all. Lady Sad. In, in, then, for mercy's sake, quickly, sir! Atall. So this is like to be a very pretty business! Oh, success and impudence, thou hast quite forsaken me! [Enters the closet. Wish. Do you step into your bed-chamber, madam, and leave my master to me. [Exit LADY SADLIFE. WISHWELL opens the door, and SIR SOLOMON enters. Sir Sol. No, no; I tell you, I'm so tired, I am not able to walk. There, make haste. Lady Sad. Would all were well over! [Exit. Sir Sol. Tis so, by her eagerness to be rid of me. Well, since I find I dare not behave myself like a man of honour in this business, I'll at least act like a person of prudence and penetration; for say, should I clap a brace of slugs now in the very bowels of this rascal, it may hang me; but if it does not, it can't divorce me. No, I'll e'en put out the candles, and in a soft, gentle whore's voice, desire the gentleman to walk about his business; and if I can't get him out before my wife returns, I'll fairly post myself in his room; and so, when she comes to set him at Sir Sol. What's the reason, mistress, I am to liberty, in the dark, I'll humour the cheat, till I be locked out of my wife's apartment? Wish. My lady was washing her-her-neck, sir, and I could not come any sooner. Sir Sol. I'm sure I heard a man's voice.[Aside.] Bid your lady come hither.[Exit WISHWELL. He must be hereabouts-'tis so; all's out, all's over, now: the devil has done his worst, and I am a cuckold in spite of my wisdom. 'Sbud! now, an Italian would poison his wife for this, a Spaniard would stab her, and a Turk would cut off her head with a scymitar; but a poor dog of an English cuckold now can only squabble and call names-Hold, here she comes I must smother my jealousy, that her guilt mayn't be upon its guard. Enter LADY SADLIFE and WISHWELL. Sir Sol. My dear, how do you do? Come hither, and kiss me. Lady Sad. I did not expect you home so soon, my dear. Sir Sol. Poor rogue! I don't believe you did, with a pox to you. [Aside.] Wishwell, go down; I have business with your lady. Wish. Yes, sir-but I'll watch you; for I am afraid this good-humour has mischief at the bottom of it. [Retires. Lady Sad. I scarce know whether he is jealous or not. [Aside. Sir Sol. Now, dare not I go nearer that closet door, lest the murderous dog should poke a hole in my guts through the key-hole. Um-I have an odd thought in my head-aye, and that will discover the whole bottom of her affair.'Tis better to seem not to know one's dishonour, when one has not courage enough to revenge it. Lady Sad. I don't like his looks, methinks. Sir Sol. Odso! what have I forgot, now?Prithee, my dear, step into my study-for I am so weary! and, in the uppermost parcel of letters, you'll find one that I received from Yorkshire to-day, in the scrutoir; bring it down, and some paper; I will answer it while I think on't. Lady Sad. If you please to lend me your key-But had you not better write in your study, my dear? draw her into some casual confession of the fact, and, then, this injured front shall bounce upon her like a thunderbolt. [Puts out the candles. Wish. [Behind.] Say you so, sir! I'll take care my lady shall be provided for you. [Exit. Sir Sol. Hist, hist, sir, sir! Enter ATALL from the closet. Atall. Is all clear? May I venture, madam? Sir Sol. Aye, aye; quick, quick! make haste before sir Solomon returns. A strait-backed dog, I warrant him. [4side.] But when shall I see you again? Atall. Whenever you'll promise me to make a better use of an opportunity. Sir Sol. Ha! then 'tis possible he mayn't yet have put the finishing stroke to me. Atall. Is this the door? Sir Sol. Aye, aye, away. [Erit ATALL.] So, now the danger of being murdered is over, I find my courage returns: and, if I catch my wife but inclining to be no better than she should be, I'm not sure that blood won't be the consequence. He goes into the closet, and WISHWELL enters. Wish. So-my lady has her cue; and if my wise master can give her no better proofs of his penetration than this, she'd be a greater fool than he, if she should not do what she has a mind to. Sir, sir, come; you may come out now; sir Solomon's gone. Enter SIR SOLOMON, from the closet. Sir Sol. So, now for a soft speech, to set her impudent blood in a ferment, and then let it out with my penknife. [Aside.] Come, dear creature, now let's make the kindest use of our opportunity. Wish. Not for the world. If sir Solomon should come again, I should be ruined. Pray, begone-I'll send to you to-morrow. Sir Sol. Nay, now you love me not; you would not let me part else thus unsatisfied. Wish. Now you're unkind. You know I love you, or I should not run such hazards for you. Sir Sol. Fond whore! [Aside.] But I'm afraid |