you. She is handsome and cunning, and naturally wanton Maskwell is flesh and blood at best, and opportunities between them are frequent. His affection to you, you have confessed, is grounded upon his interest; that you have transplanted; and should it take root in my lady, I don't see what you can expect from the fruit.

Mel. I confess the consequence is visible, were your suspicions just.-But see, the company is broke up, let's meet 'em. [Exeunt.

Enter CARELESS, MELLEFONT, Lord TOUCHWOOD, Lord FROTH, Sir PAUL PLYANT, and BRISK.

Lord Touch. Out upon't, nephew!-leave your fatherin-law and me to maintain our ground against young people!

Mel. I beg your lordship's pardon; we were just returning.

Sir Paul. Were you, son? gadsbud, much better as it is.- Good, strange! I swear I'm almost tipsy-t'other bottle would have been too powerful for me,--as sure as can be it would.-We wanted your company; but Mr. Brisk-where is he? I swear and vow he's a most facetious person,--and the best company. And, my Lord Froth, your lordship is so merry a man, he he! he!

Lord Froth. O foy, Sir Paul! what do you mean? Merry! O barbarous! I'd as lieve you called me fool.

Sir Paul. Nay, I protest and vow now, 'tis true; when Mr. Brisk jokes, your lordship's laugh does so become you, he! he he!

Lord Froth. Ridiculous! Sir Paul, you're strangely mistaken, I find champagne is powerful. I assure you, Sir Paul, I laugh at nobody's jest but my own or a lady's; I assure you, Sir Paul.

Brisk. How? how, my lord? what, affront my wit! let me perish, do I never say anything worthy to be laughed at?

Lord Froth. O foy! don't misapprehend me, I don't say so, for I often smile at your conceptions. But there is nothing more unbecoming a man of quality than to laugh; 'tis such a vulgar expression of the passion! everybody can laugh. Then, especially to laugh at the jest of an inferior person, or when anybody else of the same quality does not laugh with one; ridiculous! To be pleased with what pleases the crowd! Now when I laugh, I always laugh alone.

Brisk. I suppose, that's because you laugh at your own jests, egad, ha! ha! ha!

Lord Froth. He! he! I swear, though, your raillery provokes me to a smile.

Brisk. Ay, my lord, 'tis a sign I hit you in the teeth if you show 'em.

Lord Froth. He! he! he! I swear that's so very pretty, I can't forbear.

Care. I find a quibble bears more sway in your lordship's face than a jest.

Lord Touch. Sir Paul, if you please we'll retire to the ladies, and drink a dish of tea, to settle our heads.

Sir Paul. With all my heart.-Mr. Brisk, you'll come to us,—or call me when you joke; I'll be ready to laugh incontinently.

[Exeunt Lord TOUCHWOOD and Sir PAUL PLYANT. Mel. But does your lordship never see comedies?

Lord Froth.

Mel. No!

O yes, sometimes ;- -but I never laugh.

Lord Froth. O no; -never laugh indeed, sir.

Care. No why, what d'ye go there for?

Lord Froth. To distinguish myself from the commonalty, and mortify the poets: the fellows grow so conceited when any of their foolish wit prevails upon the side-boxes, I swear-he! he! he! I have often constrained my inclination to laugh,-he! he he! to avoid giving them encouragement,

Mel. You are cruel to yourself, my lord, as well as malicious to them.

Lord Froth. I confess I did myself some violence at first; but now I think I have conquered it.

Brisk. Let me perish, my lord, but there is something very particular in the humour. 'Tis true, it makes against wit, and I'm sorry for some friends of mine that write, but, egad, I love to be malicious. Nay, deuce take me, there's wit in't too; and wit must be foiled by wit; cut a diamond with a diamond; no other way, egad!

Lord Froth. Oh, I thought you would not be long before you found out the wit.

Care. Wit! in what? where the devil's the wit in not laughing when a man has a mind to't?

Brisk. O Lord, why, can't you find it out?-Why, there 'tis, in the not laughing;-don't you apprehend me.?— [Aside to FROTH.] My lord, Careless is a very honest fellow, but hearkee, you understand me, somewhat heavy, a little shallow, or so.-[Aloud.]— Why, I'll tell you now. Suppose now you come up to me-nay, prithee, Careless, be instructed-suppose, as I was saying, you come up to me holding your sides, and laughing, as if you would-Well-I look grave, and ask the cause of this immoderate mirth-you laugh on still, and are not able to tell me.-Still I look grave, not so much as smile.

Care. Smile! no; what the devil should you smile at, when you suppose I can't tell you?

Brisk. Pshaw! pshaw ! prithee, don't interrupt me.But I tell you, you shall tell me at last-but it shall be a great while first.

Care. Well, but prithee don't let it be a great while, because I long to have it over.

Brisk. Well, then, you tell me some good jest, or very witty thing, laughing all the while as if you were ready to die, and I hear it, and look thus.-Would not you be disappointed?

Care. No; for if it were a witty thing, I should not expect you to understand it.

Lord Froth. O foy, Mr. Careless! all the world allows Mr. Brisk to have wit, my wife says he has a great deal. I hope you think her a judge.

Brisk. Pooh, my lord, his voice goes for nothing! I can't tell how to make him apprehend.-[To CARELESS.] Take it t'other way :-suppose I say a witty thing to you?

Care. Then I shall be disappointed indeed.

Mel. Let him alone, Brisk, he is obstinately bent not to be instructed.

Brisk. I'm sorry for him, the deuce take me!

Mel. Shall we go to the ladies, my lord?

Lord Froth. With all my heart, methinks we are a solitude without 'em.

Mel. Or, what say you to another bottle of champagne ?

Lord Froth. O, for the universe, not a drop more I beseech you !-Oh intemperate! I have a flushing in my face already. [Takes out a pocket-glass, and looks in it.

Brisk. Let me see, let me see, my lord! I broke my glass that was in the lid of my snuff-box. Hum! deuce take me, I have encouraged a pimple here too.

[Takes the glass, and looks. Lord Froth. Then you must mortify him with a patch; Come, gentlemen, allons, here

my wife shall supply you. is company coming.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.

An Apartment in LORD TOUCHWOOD's House.

Enter LADY TOUCHWOOD and MASKwell.

Lady Touch. I'll hear no more y'are false and ungrateful. Come, I know you false.

Mask. I have been frail, I confess, madam, for your ladyship's service.

Lady Touch. That I should trust a man whom I had known betray his friend!

Mask. What friend have I betrayed? or to whom? Lady Touch. Your fond friend Mellefont, and to me; can you deny it?

Mask. I do not.

Lady Touch. Have you not wronged my lord, who has been a father to you in your wants, and given you being? Have you not wronged him in the highest manner, in his bed?

Mask. With your ladyship's help, and for your service, as I told you before. I can't deny that neither.-Anything more, madam?

what's

Lady Touch. More! audacious villain ! more, is most my shame!-Have you not dishonoured me?

Mask. No, that I deny; for I never told in all my rife so that accusation's answered; on to the next.

Lady Touch. Death, do you dally with my passion? Insolent devil! But have a care;-provoke me not; for, by the eternal fire, you shall not 'scape my vengeance !— Calm villain! How unconcerned he stands, confessing treachery and ingratitude! Is there a vice more black !— O, I have excuses, thousands, for my faults! fire in my temper, passions in my soul, apt to every provocation; oppressed at once with love and with despair. But a sedate, a thinking villain, whose black blood runs temperately bad, what excuse can clear?