Fash. [Taking Miss HOYDEN by the hand.] I do intend to extort your mistress from you, and that I hope will prove one.

Lord Fop. I ever thaught Newgate or Bedlam would be his fartune, and naw his fate's decided.Prithee, Loveless, dost know of ever a mad-doctor hard by?

Fash. There's one at your elbow will cure you presently. [ To BULL.] Prithee, doctor, take him in hand quickly.

Lord Fop. Shall I beg the favour of you, sir, to pull your fingers out of my wife's hand?

Fash. His wife ! Look you there; now I hope you are all satisfied he's mad.

Lord Fop. Naw, it is not passible far me to penetrate what species of fally it is thou art driving at!

Sir Tun. Here, here, here, let me beat out his brains, and that will decide all.

Lord Fop. No, pray, sir, hold, we'll destray him presently according to law.

Fash. [To BULL.] Nay, then advance, doctor : come, you are a man of conscience, answer boldly to the questions I shall ask. Did not you marry

me to this young lady before ever that gentleman there saw her face?

Bull. Since the truth must out, I did.

Fash. Nurse, sweet nurse, were not you a witness to it?

Nurse. Since my conscience bids me speak-I

was.

Fash. [To Miss HOYDEN.] Madam, am not I your lawful husband?

Hoyd. Truly I can't tell, but you married me

first.

Fash. Now I hope you are all satisfied?

Sir Tun. [Offering to strike him, is held by LOVELESS and WORTHY.] Oons and thunder, you lie!

Lord Fop. Pray, sir, be calm, the battle is in disarder, but requires more canduct than courage to rally our forces.-Pray, dactar, one word with you. [Aside to BULL.] Look you, sir, though I will not presume to calculate your notions of damnation fram the description you give us of hell, yet since there is at least a passibility you may have a pitchfark thrust in your backside, methinks it should not be worth your while to risk your saul in the next warld for the sake of a beggarly yaunger brather, who is nat able to make your bady happy in this.

Bull. Alas! my lord, I have no worldly ends; I speak the truth, Heaven knows.

Lord Fop. Nay, prithee, never engage Heaven in the matter, for by all I can see 'tis like to prove a business for the devil.

Fash. Come, pray sir, all above-board, no corrupting of evidences. If you please, this young lady is my lawful wife, and I'll justify it in all the courts of England; so your lordship (who always had a passion for variety) may go seek a new mistress if you think fit.

Lord Fop. I am struck dumb with his impudence, and cannot passitively tell whether ever I shall speak again or nat.

Sir Tun. Then let me come and examine the business a little, I'll jerk the truth out of 'em presently. Here, give me my dog-whip.

Fash. Look you, old gentleman, 'tis in vain to make a noise; if you grow mutinous, I have some

friends within call have swords by their sides above four foot long; therefore be calm, hear the evidence patiently, and when the jury have given their verdict, pass sentence according to law. Here's honest Coupler shall be foreman, and ask as many questions as he pleases.

Coup. All I have to ask is, whether nurse persists in her evidence ? The parson, I dare swear, will never flinch from his.

Nurse. [To Sir TUNBELLY, kneeling.] I hope in heaven your worship will pardon me: I have served you long and faithfully, but in this thing I was overreached; your worship, however, was deceived as well as I, and if the wedding-dinner had been ready, you had put madam to bed with him with your own hands.

Sir Tun. But how durst you do this, without acquainting of me?

Nurse. Alas! if your worship had seen how the poor thing begged, and prayed, and clung, and twined about me, like ivy to an old wall, you would say, I who had suckled it, and swaddled it, and nursed it both wet and dry, must have had a heart of adamant to refuse it.

Sir Tun. Very well!

Fash. Foreman, I expect your verdict. Coup. Ladies and gentlemen, what's your opinions?

All. A clear case! a clear case!

Coup. Then, my young folks, I wish you joy. Sir Tun. [To TOM FASHION.] Come hither, stripling; if it be true then, that thou hast married my daughter, prithee tell me who thou art?

Fash. Sir, the best of my condition is, I am your son-in-law; and the worst of it is, I am brother to that noble peer there.

Sir Tun. Art thou brother to that noble peer!Why, then, that noble peer, and thee, and thy wife, and the nurse, and the priest-may all go and be damned together!

[Erit.

Lord Fop. [Aside.] Now, for my part, I think the wisest thing a man can do with an aching heart is to put on a serene countenance; for a philosophical air is the most becoming thing in the world to the face of a person of quality. I will therefore bear my disgrace like a great man, and let the people see I am above an affront.--[Aloud.] Dear Tam, since things are thus fallen aut, prithee give me leave to wish thee jay; I do it de bon cœur, strike me dumb! You have married a woman beautiful in her person, charming in her airs, prudent in her canduct, canstant in her inclinations, and of a nice marality, split my windpipe!

Fash. Your lardship may keep up your spirits with your grimace if you please, I shall support mine with this lady, and two thousand pound a-year.-[Taking Miss HOYDEN's hand.] Come, madam :

We once again, you see, are man and wife,
And now, perhaps, the bargain's struck for life.
If I mistake, and we should part again,
At least you see you may have choice of men :
Nay, should the war at length such havoc make,
That lovers should grow scarce, yet for your sake,
Kind Heaven always will preserve a beau :

[Pointing to Lord FOPPINGTON. You'll find his lordship ready to come to. Lord Fop. Her ladyship shall stap my vitals if I do. [Exeunt omnes

Gentlemen and Ladies,

THESE people have regaled you here to-day
(In my opinion) with a saucy play ;
In which the author does presume to show,
That coxcomb, ab origine—was beau.
Truly I think the thing of so much weight,
That if some sharp chastisement ben't his fate,
Gad's curse! it may in time destroy the state.
I hold no one its friend, I must confess,
Who would discauntenance you men of dress.
Far, give me leave to abserve, good clothes are things
Have ever been of great support to kings;
All treasons come from slovens, it is nat
Within the reach of gentle beaux to plat;
They have no gall, no spleen, no teeth, no stings,
Of all Gad's creatures, the most harmless things.
Through all recard, no prince was ever slain,
By one who had a feather in his brain.

They're men of too refined an education,
To squabble with a court-for a vile dirty nation.
I'm very pasitive you never saw

A through republican a finish'd beau.
Nor, truly, shall you very often see

A Jacobite much better dress'd than he;

In shart, through all the courts that I have been in,
Your men of mischief-still are in faul linen.
Did ever one yet dance the Tyburn jig,
With a free air, or a well-pawder'd wig?
Did ever highwaymen yet bid you stand,
With a sweet bawdy snuffbax in his hand?
Ar do you ever find they ask your purse
As men of breeding do?-Ladies, Gad's curse!
This author is a dag, and 'tis not fit
You should allow him even one grain of wit:
To which, that his pretence may ne'er be named,
My humble motion is he may be damn'd.

SINCE 'tis the intent and business of the stage,
To copy out the follies of the age;
To hold to every man a faithful glass,
And show him of what species he's an ass :
I hope the next that teaches in the school,
Will show our author he's a scribbling fool.
And, that the satire may be sure to bite,
Kind Heaven inspire some venom'd priest to write!
And grant some ugly lady may indite!

For I would have him lash'd, by heavens I would!
Till his presumption swam away in blood.
Three plays at once proclaims a face of brass,
No matter what they are; that's not the case;
To write three plays, e'en that's to be an ass.
But what I least forgive, he knows it too,
For to his cost he lately has known you.

Experience shows, to many a writer's smart,
You hold a court where mercy ne'er had part;
So much of the old serpent's sting you have,
You love to damn, as Heaven delights to save.
In foreign parts, let a bold volunteer,
For public good, upon the stage appear,
He meets ten thousand smiles to dissipate his fear.
All tickle on the adventuring young beginner,
And only scourge the incorrigible sinner;
They touch indeed his faults, but with a hand
So gentle, that his merit still may stand :
Kindly they buoy the follies of his pen,
That he may shun 'em when he writes again.
But 'tis not so in this good-natured town;
All's one, an ox, a poet, or a crown;

Old England's play was always knocking down.

SCENE I.-A Room in Sir JOHN BRUTE'S

House.

Enter Sir JOHN BRUTE.

Sir John. What cloying meat is love-when matrimony's the sauce to it! Two years' marriage has debauched my five senses. Everything I see, everything I hear, everything I feel, everything I smell, and everything I taste-methinks has wife in't. No boy was ever so weary of his tutor, no girl of her bib, no nun of doing penance, nor old

maid of being chaste, as I am of being married. Sure, there's a secret curse entailed upon the very name of wife. My lady is a young lady, a fine lady, a witty lady, a virtuous lady-and yet I hate her. There is but one thing I loathe on earth beyond her that's fighting. Would my courage come up but to a fourth part of my ill-nature, I'd stand buff to her relations, and thrust her out of doors. But marriage has sunk me down to such an ebb of resolution, I dare not draw my sword, though even to get rid of my wife. But here she comes.

:

Enter Lady BRUTE. Lady Brute. Do you dine at home to-day, sir John?

Sir John. Why, do you expect I should tell you what I don't know myself?

Lady Brute. I thought there was no harm in asking you.

Sir John. If thinking wrong were an excuse for impertinence, women might be justified in most things they say or do.

Lady Brute. I'm sorry I've said anything to displease you.

Sir John. Sorrow for things past is of as little importance to me, as my dining at home or abroad ought to be to you.

Lady Brute. My inquiry was only that I might have provided what you liked.

Sir John. Six to four you had been in the wrong there again; for what I liked yesterday I don't like to-day, and what I like to-day, 'tis odds I mayn't like to-morrow.

Lady Brute. But if I had asked you what you liked?

Sir John. Why, then, there would be more asking about it than the thing is worth.

Lady Brute. I wish I did but know how I might please you.

Sir John. Ay, but that sort of knowledge is not a wife's talent.

Lady Brute. Whate'er my talent is, I'm sure my will has ever been to make you easy.

Sir John. If women were to have their wills the world would be finely governed.

Lady Brute. What reason have I given you to use me as you do of late? It once was otherwise. You married me for love.

Sir John. And you me for money. So, you have your reward, and I have mine.

Lady Brute. What is it that disturbs you?
Sir John. A parson.

Lady Brute. Why, what has he done to you?
Sir John. He has married me.
[Exit.

Lady Brute. The devil's in the fellow, I think! -I was told before I married him that thus 'twould be: but I thought I had charms enough to govern him; and that where there was an estate, a woman must needs be happy; so, my vanity has deceived me, and my ambition has made me uneasy. But there's some comfort still; if one would be revenged of him, these are good times; a woman may have a gallant, and a separate maintenance too. - The surly puppy-Yet, he's a fool for't; for hitherto he has been no monster: but who knows how far he may provoke me? I never loved him, yet I have been ever true to him; and that in spite of all the attacks of art and nature upon a poor weak woman's heart, in favour of a tempting lover. Methinks so noble a defence as I have made should be rewarded with a better usage.-Or who can tell -perhaps a good part of what I suffer from my husband, may be a judgment upon me for my cruelty to my lover.-Lord, with what pleasure could I indulge that thought, were there but a possibility of finding arguments to make it good!-And how do I know but there may ?-Let me see.-What opposes?-My matrimonial vow.-Why, what did I vow? I think I promised to be true to my husband. Well; and he promised to be kind to me. But he han't kept his word.-Why, then, I am

absolved from mine.-Ay, that seems clear to me. The argument's good between the king and the people, why not between the husband and the wife? Oh, but that condition was not expressed.No matter, 'twas understood. Well, by all I see, if I argue the matter a little longer with myself, I shan't find so many bugbears in the way as I thought I should. Lord, what fine notions of virtue do we women take up upon the credit of old foolish philosophers! Virtue's its own reward, virtue's this, virtue's that-virtue's an ass, and a gallant's worth forty on't.

Enter BELINDA.

Lady Brute. Good morrow, dear cousin! Bel. Good-morrow, madam; you look pleased this morning.

Lady Brute. I am so.

Bel. With what, pray?

Lady Brute. With my husband.

Bel. Drown husbands! for yours is a provoking fellow. As he went out just now, I prayed him to tell me what time of day 'twas; and he asked me if I took him for the church-clock, that was obliged to tell all the parish.

Lady Brute. He has been saying some good obliging things to me too. In short, Belinda, he has used me so barbarously of late, that I could almost resolve to play the downright wife-and cuckold him.

Bel. That would be downright, indeed.

Lady Brute. Why, after all, there's more to be said for't than you'd imagine, child. I know, according to the strict statute law of religion, I should do wrong; but, if there were a Court of Chancery in heaven, I'm sure I should cast him.

Bel. If there were a House of Lords you might. Lady Brute. In either I should infallibly carry my cause. Why, he's the first aggressor, not I. Bel. Ay, but you know, we must return good for evil.

Lady Brute. That may be a mistake in the translation.-Prithee, be of my opinion, Belinda; for I'm positive I'm in the right; and if you'll keep up the prerogative of a woman, you'll likewise be positive you are in the right, whenever you do anything you have a mind to. But I shall play the fool and jest on, till I make you begin to think I'm in earnest.

Bel. I shan't take the liberty, madam, to think of anything that you desire to keep a secret from

me.

Lady Brute. Alas, my dear! I have no secrets. My heart could never yet confine my tongue.

Bel. Your eyes, you mean; for I'm sure I have seen them gadding, when your tongue has been locked up safe enough.

Lady Brute. My eyes gadding! prithee after who, child?

Bel. Why, after one that thinks you hate him as much as I know you love him.

Ludy Brute. Constant, you mean?
Bel. I do so.

Lady Brute. Lord, what should put such a thing into your head?

Bel. That which puts things into most people's heads-observation.

Lady Brute. Why what have you observed, in the name of wonder?

Bel. I have observed you blust when you meet

him, force yourself away from him, and then be out of humour with everything about you. In a word, never was poor creature so spurred on by desire, and so reined in with fear!

Lady Brnte. How strong is fancy!
Bel. How weak is woman!

Lady Brute. Prithee, niece, have a better opinion of your aunt's inclination.

Bel. Dear aunt, have a better opinion of your niece's understanding.

Lady Brute. You'll make me angry.

Bel. You'll make me laugh.

Lady Brute. Then you are resolved to persist?
Bel. Positively.

Lady Brute. And all I can say―

Bel. Will signify nothing.

Lady Brute. Though I should swear 'twere false

Bel. I should think it true.

Lady Brute. Then let us both forgive—[Kissing her] for we have both offended: I in making a secret, you in discovering it.

Bel. Good-nature may do much but you have more reason to forgive one, than I have to pardon t'other.

Lady Brute. 'Tis true, Belinda, you have given me so many proofs of your friendship, that my reserve has been indeed a crime. But that you may more easily forgive me, remember, child, that when our nature prompts us to a thing our honour and religion have forbid us, we would (were't possible) conceal, even from the soul itself, the knowledge of the body's weakness.

Bel. Well, I hope, to make your friend amends, you'll hide nothing from her for the future, though the body should still grow weaker and weaker.

Lady Brute. No, from this moment I have no more reserve; and for a proof of my repentance, I own, Belinda, I'm in danger. Merit and wit assault me from without; nature and love solicit me within; my husband's barbarous usage piques me to revenge; and Satan, catching at the fair occasion, throws in my way that vengeance which, of all vengeance, pleases women best.

Bel. 'Tis well Constant don't know the weakness of the fortification; for, o' my conscience, he'd soon come on to the assault!

Lady Brute. Ay, and I'm afraid carry the town too. But whatever you may have observed, I have dissembled so well as to keep him ignorant. So you see I'm no coquette, Belinda: and if you'll follow my advice, you'll never be one neither. 'Tis true, coquetry is one of the main ingredients in the natural composition of a woman; and I, as well as others, could be well enough pleased to see a crowd of young fellows ogling, and glancing, and watching all occasions to do forty foolish officious things. Nay, should some of 'em push on, even to hanging or drowning, why, faith, if I should let pure woman alone, I should e'en be but too well pleased with't.

Bel. I'll swear 'twould tickle me strangely.

Lady Brute. But after all, 'tis a vicious practice in us to give the least encouragement but where we design to come to a conclusion. For 'tis an unreasonable thing to engage a man in a disease which we beforehand resolve we never will apply a cure to.

Bl. 'Tis true; but then a woman must abandon one of the supreme blessings of her life. For

I am fully convinced, no man has half that pleasure in possessing a mistress as a woman has in jilting a gallant.

Lady Brute. The happiest woman then on earth must be our neighbour.

Bel. O the impertinent composition! She has vanity and affectation enough to make her a ridiculous original, in spite of all that art and nature ever furnished to any of her sex before her.

Lady Brute. She concludes all men her captives; and whatever course they take, it serves to confirm her in that opinion.

Bel. If they shun her, she thinks 'tis modesty, and takes it for a proof of their passion.

Lady Brute. And if they are rude to her, 'tis conduct, and done to prevent town-talk.

Bel. When her folly makes 'em laugh, she thinks they are pleased with her wit.

Lady Brute. And when her impertinence makes 'em dull, concludes they are jealous of her favours. Bel. All their actions and their words she takes for granted aim at her.

Lady Brute. And pities all other women because she thinks they envy her.

Bel. Pray, out of pity to ourselves, let us find a better subject, for I'm weary of this. Do you think your husband inclined to jealousy?

Lady Brute. Oh, no; he does not love me well enough for that. Lord, how wrong men's maxims are! They are seldom jealous of their wives, unless they are very fond of 'em ; whereas they ought to consider the women's inclinations, for there depends their fate. Well, men may talk; but they are not so wise as we, that's certain.

Bel. At least in our affairs.

Lady Brute. Nay, I believe we should outdo 'em in the business of the state too; for methinks they do and undo, and make but bad work on't.

Bel. Why then don't we get into the intrigues of government as well as they?

Lady Brute. Because we have intrigues of our own that make us more sport, child. And so let's in, and consider of 'em. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.-Lady FANCYFUL's Dressing-Room. Enter Lady FANCYFUL, MADEMOISELLE, and CORNET. Lady Fan. How do I look this morning? Cor. Your ladyship looks very ill, truly. Lady Fan. Lard, how ill-natured thou art, Cornet, to tell me so, though the thing should be true Don't you know that I have humility enough to be but too easily out of conceit with myself. Hold the glass; I dare swear that will have more manners than you have.-Mademoiselle, let me have your opinion too.

Mad. My opinion pe, matam, dat your ladyship never look so well in your life.

Lady Fan. Well, the French are the prettiest obliging people; they say the most acceptable, well-mannered things, and never flatter.

Mad. Your ladyship say great justice inteed. Lady Fun. Nay, everything's just in my house but Cornet.-The very looking-glass gives her the démenti.-But I'm almost afraid it flatters me, it makes me look so very engaging.

[Looking affectedly in the glass. Mad. Inteed, matam, your face pe handsomer den all de looking glass in tee world, croyez-moi!