horses, clean linen, and a caudle! Fy. for shame! -O ho, here comes our man! Now show yourself a woman, if you are one.

Enter Esop.

Esop. I'm told, fair virgin, you desire to speak with me. Lovers are apt to flatter themselves; I take your message for a favour. I hope 'twas

meant so.

Euph. Favours from women are so cheap of late, men may expect 'em truly without vanity.

Esop. If the women are so liberal, I think the men are generous too on their side. "Tis a wellbred age, thank Heaven; and a deal of civility there passes between the two sexes.-What service is't that I can do you, lady?

Euph. Sir, I have a small favour to entreat you. Esop. What is't? I don't believe I shall refuse you.

Euph. What if you should promise me you

won't?

Esop. Why then I should make a divorce between my good-breeding and my sense, which ought to be as sacred a knot as that of wedlock.

Euph. Dare you not trust then, sir, the thing you love?

Esop. Not when the thing I love don't love me: never!

Dor. Trust is sometimes the way to be beloved.

sop. Ay, but 'tis oftener the way to be cheated. Euph. Pray promise me you'll grant my suit. Dor. 'Tis a reasonable one, I give you my word for't.

Esop. If it be so, I do promise to grant it.
Dor. That's still leaving yourself judge.
Esop. Why, who's more concerned in the trial ?
Dor. But nobody ought to be judge in their own

cause.

Esop. Yet he that is so, is sure to have no wrong done him.

Dor. But if he does wrong to others, that's

worse.

Esop. Worse for them, but not for him. Dor. True politician, by my troht! Esop. Men must be so when they have to do with sharpers.

Euph. If I should tell you then there were a possibility I might be brought to love you, you'd scarce believe me.

Esop. I should hope as a lover, and suspect as

a statesman.

Dor. [Aside.] Love and wisdom! There's the passion of the age again.

Euph. You have lived long, sir, and observed much did you never see Time produce strange changes?

Esop. Amongst women, I must confess I have. Euph. Why, I'm a woman, sir.

Esop. Why, truly, that gives me some hopes. Euph. I'll increase 'em, sir; I have already been in love two years.

Dor. And time, you know, wears all things to tatters.

Esop. Well observed.

Euph. What if you should allow me some to try what I can do?

Esop. Why, truly, I would have patience a day or two, if there were as much probability of my being your new gallant, as perhaps there may be of changing your old one.

Dor. She shall give you fair play for't, sir; opportunity and leave to prattle, and that's what carries most women in our days. Nay, she shall do more for you. You shall play with her fan; squeeze her little finger; buckle her shoe; read a romance to her in the arbour; and saunter in the woods on a moonshiny night. If this don't melt her, she's no woman, or you no man.

Esop. I'm not a man to melt a woman that way : I know myself, and know what they require. 'Tis through a woman's eye you pierce her heart. And I've no darts can make their entrance there. Dor. You are a great statesman, sir; but I find you know little of our matters. A woman's heart is to be entered forty ways. Every sense she has about her keeps a door to it. With a smock-face, and a feather, you get in at her eyes. With powerful nonsense, in soft words, you creep in at her ears. An essenced peruke, and a sweet handkerchief, lets you in at her nose. With a treat, and a boxfull of sweetmeats, you slip in at her mouth : and if you would enter by her sense of feeling, 'tis as beaten a road as the rest. What think you now, sir? There are more ways to the woods than one, you see.

Esop. Why, you're an admirable pilot ; I don't doubt but you have steered many a ship safe to harbour. But I'm an old stubborn seaman ; I must sail by my own compass still.

Euph. And, by your obstinacy, lose your vessel. Esop. No : I'm just entering into port; we'll be married to-morrow.

Euph. For Heaven's sake, defer it some days longer! I cannot love you yet, indeed I cannot. Misop. Nor never will, I dare swear. Euph. Why then will you marry me? Esop. Because I love you.

Euph. If you loved me, you would never make me miserable.

Esop. Not if I loved you for your sake; but I love you for my own.

Dor. [Aside.] There's an old rogue for you. Euph. [ Weeping.] Is there no way left ! must I be wretched?

Æsop. 'Tis but resolving to be pleased. You can't imagine the strength of resolution. I have seen a woman resolve to be in the wrong all the days of her life; and by the help of her resolution she has kept her word to a tittle.

Euph. Methinks the subject we're upon should be of weight enough to make you serious. Esop. Right. To-morrow morning, pray be ready ; you'll find me so : I'm serious. Now I hope you are pleased. [Turning acay from her. Euph. Break heart ! for if thou holdest, I'm miserable. [Going off weeping, and leaning upon DORIS. Dor. [To EsOP.] Now may the extravagance of a lewd wife, with the insolence of a virtuous one, join hand in hand to bring thy grey hairs to the grave. [Exeunt EUPHRONIA and DORIS. Esop. My old friend wishes me well to the last, I see.

Enter LEARCHUS hastily, followed by ORONCES.
Oron. Pray hear me, sir.

Lear. 'Tis in vain: I'm resolved, I tell you.Most noble Æsop, since you are pleased to accept of my poor offspring for your consort, be so charitable to my old age, to deliver me from the impertinence of youth, by making her your wife this

instant; for there's a plot against my life; they have resolved to tease me to death to-night, that they may break the match to-morrow morning. Marry her this instant, I entreat you.

Esop. This instant, say you!

Lear. This instant; this very instant. Esop. 'Tis enough; get all things ready; I'll be with you in a moment. [Exit.

Lear. Now, what say you, Mr. Flamefire? I shall have the whiphand of you presently.

Oron. Defer it but till to-morrow, sir.

Lear. That you may run away with her to-night; ha?-Sir, your most obedient, humble servant.Hey, who waits there?

Lear. And what have you to say, sir? Oron. Alas! I know not what I have to say! Lear. Very like so.-That's a sure sign he's in love now.

Oron. Have you no bowels? Lear. Ha ha! bowels in a parent; here's a young fellow for you! Hark thee, stripling; being in a very merry humour, I don't care if I discover some paternal secrets to thee. Know then, that how humoursome, how whimsical soever we may appear, there's one fixed principle that runs through almost the whole race of us; and that's to please ourselves. Why dost think I got my daughter? Why, there was something in't that pleased me. Why dost think I marry my daughter? Why to please myself still. And what is't that pleases me? Why, my interest; what dost think it should be? If Esop's my son-inlaw, he'll make me a lord: if thou art my son-inlaw, thou'lt make me a grandfather. Now I having more mind to be a lord than a grandfather, give my daughter to him, and not to thee.

Oron. Then shall her happiness weigh nothing with you?

Lear. Not this. If it did, I'd give her to thee, and not to him.

Oron. Do you think forced marriage the way to keep women virtuous?

Lear. No; nor I don't care whether women are virtuous or not.

Oron. You know your daughter loves me.
Lear. I do so.

Oron. What if the children that Esop may happen to father should chance to be begot by me? Lear. Why, then Æsop would be the cuckold, not I. Oron. Is that all your care?

Lear. Yes I speak as a father.

Oron. What think you of your child's concern in t'other world'

Dol, de tol dol, dol dol, de tol dol:
Lilly Burleighre's lodged in a bough.

Enter a Troop of Musicians, Dancers, &c.

Lear. How now! what have we got here? Mus. Sir, we are a troop of trifling fellows, fiddlers and dancers, come to celebrate the wedding of your fair daughter, if your honour pleases to give us leave.

Lear. With all my heart: but who do you take me for, sir; ha?

Mus. I take your honour for our noble governor of Cyzicus.

Lear. Governor of Cyzicus! Governor of a cheese-cake! I'm father-in-law to the great Æsop, sirrah.-[All bow to him.]-[Aside.] I shall be a great man. [Aloud.] Come, tune your fiddles: shake your legs; get all things ready. My son-inlaw will be here presently. I shall be a great man. [Exil.

1 Mus. A great marriage, brother: what dost think will be the end on't?

2 Mus. Why, I believe we shall see three turns upon't. This old fellow here will turn fool; his daughter will turn strumpet; and his son-in-law will turn 'em both out of doors. But that's nothing to thee nor me, as long as we are paid for our fiddling. So tune away, gentlemen.

1 Mus. D'ye hear, trumpets, when the bride appears, salute her with a melancholy waft. 'Twill suit her humour; for I guess she mayn't be overwell pleased.

Re-enter LEARCHUS with several Gentlemen, and a Priest.

Lear. Gentlemen and friends, y'are all welcome. I have sent to as many of you as our short time would give me leave, to desire you would be witnesses of the honour the great Æsop designs ourself and family.-Hey; who attends there?

Re-enter EUPHRONIA weeping, and leaning upon Doris, both in deep mourning.

Lear. How now! what's here ? all in deep mourning!—Here's a provoking baggage for you. [The trumpets sound a melancholy air till Esop appears; and then the violins and hautboys strike up a Lancashire hornpipe.

Re-enter Esop in a gay foppish dress, long peruke, &c., a gaudy equipage of Pages and Footmen, all enter in an airy brisk manner.

Esop. [In an affected tone to EUPHRONIA.] Gad take my soul, mame, I hope I shall please you now!-Gentlemen all, I'm your humble servant. I'm going to be a very happy man, you see.-[To EUPHRONIA.] When the heat of the ceremony's over, if your ladyship pleases, mame, I'll wait upon you to take the air in the Park.-Hey, page; let there be a coach and six horses ready instantly. [Observing her dress.] I vow to Gad, mame, I was so taken up with my good fortune, I did not observe the extreme fancy of your ladyship's wedding-clothes!-Infinitely pretty, as I hope to be saved! a world of variety, and not at all gaudy! [TO LEARCHUS.] My dear father-in-law, embrace me.

Lear. Your lordship does me too much honour. -[Aside.] I shall be a great man.

Esop. Come, gentlemen, are all things ready? Where's the priest?

Priest. Here, my noble lord.

Esop. Most reverend, will you please to say grace that I may fall to, for I'm very hungry, and here's very good meat.-But where's my rival all this while? The least we can do, is to invite him to the wedding.

Lear. My lord, he's in prison.
Esop. In prison! how so!

Lear. He would have murdered me,

Esop. A bloody fellow ! But let's see him however. Send for him quickly. Ha, governor, that handsome daughter of yours, I will so mumble her!

Lear. I shall be a great man.

Re-enter ORONCEs, pinioned and guarded. Esop. O ho, here's my rival! Then we have all we want.-Advance, sir, if you please. I aesire you'll do me the favour to be a witness to my marriage, lest one of these days you should take a fancy to dispute my wife with me.

Oron. Do you then send for me to insult me? 'Tis base in you.

Æsop. I have no time now to throw away upon points of generosity; I have hotter work upon my hands.-Come, priest, advance.

Lear. Pray hold him fast there; he has the devil and all of mischief in's eye.

Esop. [To EUPHRONIA.] Will your ladyship please, mame, to give me your fair hand.-Heyday!

[She refuses her hand.

Lear. I'll give it you, my noble lord, if she won't.-[Aside.] A stubborn, self-willed, stiffnecked strumpet!

[LEARCHUS holds out her hand to Æsop, who takes it; ORONCES stands on Æsor's left hand, and the Priest before them.

Esop. Let my rival stand next me : of all men I'd have him be satisfied.

Oron. Barbarous inhuman monster !
Æsop. Now, priest, do thy office.

|

[Flourish with the trumpets. i

nounces the last line, Esor joins ORONCES and EUPHRONIA's hands.

Oron. O happy change! Blessings on blessings wait on the generous Æsop.

Esop. Happy, thrice happy may you ever be, And if you think there's something due to me, Pay it in mutual love and constancy.

Euph. [ To Esor.] You'll pardon me, most geneIf in the present transports of my soul, [rous man, Which you yourself have by your bounty caused, My willing tongue is tied from uttering The thoughts that flow from a most grateful heart. Esop. For what I've done I merit little thanks, Since what I've done, my duty bound me to. I would your father had acquitted his : But he who's such a tyrant o'er his children To sacrifice their peace to his ambition, Is fit to govern nothing but himself. And therefore, sir, at my return to court

[To LEARCHUS.

I shall take care this city may be sway'd
By more humanity than dwells in you.
Lear. [Aside.] I shall be a great man.
Euph. [To Esor.] Had I not reason, from
your constant goodness,

To judge your bounty, sir, is infinite,

I should not dare to sue for farther favours :
But pardon me, if imitating Heaven and you,
I casily forgive my aged father,

And beg that Æsop would forgive him too.
[Kneeling to hir
Esop. The injury he would have done to you
Was great indeed :

But 'twas a blessing he design'd for me.
If therefore you can pardon him, I may.
Your injured daughter, sir, has on her knees
[TO LEARCHUS.

Entreated for her cruel barbarous father;
And by her goodness has obtained her suit.
If in the remnant of your days you can find out
some way to recompense her, do it, that men and
gods may pardon you, as she and I have done.—
But let me see, I have one quarrel still to make up.
Where's my old friend Doris ?

Dor. She's here, sir, at your service; and as much your friend as ever: true to her principles, and firm to her mistress. But she has a much better opinion of you now than she had half an hour ago.

Esop. She has reason : for my soul appeared then as deformed as my body. But I hope now one may so far mediate for t'other, that provided I don't make love, the women won't quarrel with me; for they are worse enemies even than they are friends.-Come, gentlemen, I'll humour my dress a little longer, and share with you in the diversions these boon companions have prepared us. Let's take our places, and see how they can divert us. [Esop leads EUPHRONIA to her place. All being seated, there follows a short concert of hautboys, trumpets, &c. After which a dance between an Old Man and a Young Woman, who shuns him still as he comes near her. At last he stops, and begins this dialogue, which they sing together,

Behold, the youthful Spring comes gaily on.
Here, here's a torch to light a virgin's fire.
To my arms, my love, my joy!

When women have what they desire,
They're neither cold nor coy.

[She takes him in her arms. The song and dance ended, Æsop takes EUPHRONIA and ORONCES by the hands, leading them forwards.

Esop. By this time, my young eager couple, 'tis probable you would be glad to be alone; perhaps you'll have a mind to go to bed even without your supper; for brides and bridegrooms eat little on their wedding-night. But since if matrimony were worn as it ought to be, it would perhaps sit easier about us than usually it does, I'll give you one word of counsel, and so I shall release you. When one is out of humour, let the other be dumb. Let your diversions be such as both may have a share in 'em. Never let familiarity exclude respect. Be clean in your clothes, but nicely so in your persons. Eat at one table, lie in one room, but sleep in two beds: I'll tell the ladies why.

[Turning to the boxes.

In the sprightly month of May,
When males and females sport and play,
And kiss and toy away the day;
An eager sparrow and his mate
Chirping on a tree were sate,
Full of love-and full of prate.

They talk'd of nothing but their fires,
Of raging heats and strong desires,
Of eternal constancy;

How true and faithful they would be,
Of this and that. and endless joys,
And a thousand more such toys:
The only thing they apprehended,
Was that their lives would be so short,
They could not finish half their sport
Before their days were ended.

But as from bough to bough they rove,
They chanced at last

In furious haste,

On a twig with birdlime spread, (Want of a more downy bed)

To act a scene of love.

Fatal it proved to both their fires.
For though at length they broke away,
And balk'd the schoolboy of his prey,
Which made him weep the livelong day,
The bridegroom in the hasty strife,
Was stuck so fast to his dear wife,
That though he used his utmost art,
He quickly found it was in vain,
To put himself to further pain,
They never more must part.

A gloomy shade o'ercast his brow;
He found himself-I know not how:
He look'd-as husbands often do.
Where'er he moved he felt her still,
She kiss'd him oft against his will:
Abroad, at home, at bed and board,
With favours she o'erwhelm'd her lord.
Oft he turn'd his head away,
And seldom had a word to say.
Which absolutely spoil'd her play,
For she was better stored.
Howe'er at length her stock was spent,
(For female fires sometimes may be
Subject to mortality ;)

So back to back they sit and sullenly repent.
But the mute scene was quickly ended,
The lady, for her share, pretended
The want of love lay at his door;
For her part she had still in store
Enough for him and twenty more,
Which could not be contented.
He answer'd her in homely words,
(For sparrows are but ill-bred birds,)
That he already had enjoy'd

So much, that truly he was cloy'd.
Which so provoked her spleen,
That after some good hearty prayers,
A jostle, and some spiteful tears,
They fell together by the ears,
And ne'er were fond again.

[Exeunt omnes

CC 2

Osop. Patentees! prithee, what are they? Play. Why, they are, sir-sir, they are-cod, I don't know what they are!-fish or flesh-masters or servants :-sometimes one-sometimes t'other, I think-just as we are in the mood.

Esop. Why, I thought they had a lawful authority over you.

Play. Lawful authority, sir !-sir, we are freeborn Englishmen, we care not for law nor authority neither, when we are out of humour.

Esop. But I think they pretended at least to an authority over you; pray upon what foundation was it built?

:

Play. Upon a rotten one-if you'll believe us. Sir, I'll tell you what the projectors did they embarked twenty thousand pound upon a leaky vessel. She was built at Whitehall; I think they called her the Patent-ay, the Patent: her keel was made of a broad seal-and the king gave them a white staff for their mainmast. She was a pretty tight frigate to look upon, indeed they spared nothing to set her off; they gilded her, and painted her, and rigged, and gunned her; and so sent her a-privateering. But the first storm that blew, down went the mast! ashore went the ship!Crack! says the keel :-Mercy ! cried the pilot; but the wind was so high, his prayers could not be heard so they split upon a rock-that lay hid under a petticoat.

Æsop. very sad story, this: but what became of the ship's company?

Play. Why, sir, your humble servants here, who were the officers, and the best of the sailors-(little Ben amongst the rest) seized on a small bark that lay to our hand, and away we put to sea again. To say the truth, we were better manned than rigged, and ammunition was plaguy scarce amongst us. However, a-cruising we went, and some petty small prizes we have made; but the blessing of heaven not being among us-or how the devil 'tis, I can't tell; but we are not rich.

Esop. Well, but what became of the rest of the crew?

Play. Why, sir, as for the scoundrels, they, poor dogs, stuck by the wreck. The captain gave them bread and cheese, and good words. He told them if they would patch her up, and venture t'other cruise, he'd prefer 'em all; so to work they went, and to sea they got her.

Esop. I hope he kept his word with 'em.

Play. That he did; he made the boatswain's mate lieutenant; he made the cook doctor; he was forced to be purser, and pilot, and gunner himself; and the swabber took orders to be chaplain.

Esop. But with such unskilful officers, I'm afraid, they'll hardly keep above water long.

Play. Why, truly, sir, we care not how soon they are under: but cursed folks thrive, I think. I know nothing else that makes 'em swim. I'm sure, by the rules of navigation, they ought to have overset long since; for they carry a great deal of sail, and have very little ballast.

Æsop. I'm afraid you ruin one another. I fancy if you were all in a ship together again, you'd have less work and more profit.

Play. Ah, sir-we are resolved we'll never sail under captain Patentee again.

Esop. Prithee, why so?

Play. Sir, he has used us like dogs.

Wom. And bitches too, sir.

Æsop. I'm sorry to hear that; pray how was't he treated you?

Play. Sir, 'tis impossible to tell; he used us like the English at Amboyna.

Æsop. But I would know some particulars; tell me what 'twas he did to you.

Play. What he did, sir!-why, he did in the first place, sir-in the first place, sir, he did-ecod I don't know what he did.-Can you tell, wife? Wom. Yes, marry can I; and a burning shame it was too.

Play. Oh, I remember now, sir, he would not give us plums enough in our pudding.

Esop. That indeed was very hard; but did he give you as many as he promised you? Play. Yes, and more; but what of all that? we had not as many as we had a mind to.

1 Wom. Sir, my husband tells you truth. Esop. I believe he may. But what other wrongs did he do you?

1 Wom. Why, sir, he did not treat me with respect; 'twas not one day in three he would so much as bid me good-morrow.

2 Wom. Sir, he invited me to dinner, and never drank my health.