Club. [Without.] Augh—[Yawning.] I'm asleep! I'm asleep! don't wake me.-Augh! Serv. Here's a gentleman wants ye.

[Exit. Enter CLUB, with his coat unbuttoned, his garters untied, scratching and yawning, as newly wakened from bed.

Club. Pox o' your London breeding! what makes you waken a man out of his sleep that way? Love. Where's your master, pray, sir?

Club. Augh! "Tis a sad thing to be broken of one's rest this way.

Love. Can you inform me where your master's gone?

Club. My master!-Augh!—

[Stretching and yawning.

Love. Yes, sir, your master. Club. My master! Augh!-What o'clock is it, sir? I believe 'tis past midnight, for I have gotten my first sleep.-Augh!

Love. Thou'rt asleep still, blockhead! Answer me, or where's your master?

Club. Augh! I had the pleasantest dream when you called me-augh! I thought my master's great black stone-horse had broke loose among the mares.-Augh! And so, sir, you called me.— Augh! And so I wakened.

Love. Sirrah!-[Striking him.] Now your dream's out, I hope.

Club. Zauns, sir! what d'ye mean, sir? My master's as good a man as you, sir; dem me, sir! Love. Tell me presently, where your master is, sirrah, or I'll dust the secret out of your jacket. Club. Oh, sir, your name's Lovewell, sir! Love. What then, sir?

Club. Why then my master is-where you are not, sir. My master's in a fine lady's arms, and you are here, I take it. [Shrugging.

Love. Has he got a whore abed with him? Club. He may be father to the son of a whore by this time, if your mistress Lucinda be one; Mr. Lyric did his business, and my master will do her business, I warrant him, if o' th' right Shropshire breed, which I'm sure he is, for my mother nursed him on my milk.

Love. Two calves suckled on the same cow, ha! ha ha! Gramercy, poet! has he brought the play to a catastrophe so soon? A rare executioner, to clap him in the female pillory already, ha! ha! ha!

Club. Ay, sir; and a pillory that you would give your ears for; I warrant you think my master's over head and ears in the Irish quagmire you would have drowned him in. But, sir, we have found the bottom on't.

Love. He may pass over the quagmire, sirrah; for there were stepping-stones laid in his way.

Club. He has got over dry-shod, I'll assure you. Pray, sir, did not you receive a note from Lucinda, the true Lucinda, to meet her at ten in her garden to-night?-Why don't you laugh now? ha! ha! ha!

Love. 'Sdeath, rascal, what intelligence could you have of that?

Club. Hold, sir, I have more intelligence. You threw Mr. Lyric his poem, in a hurry, in the Park, and justled that sweet letter out of your pocket, sir. This letter fell into my master's hands, sir, and discovered your sham, sir, your trick, sir. Now, sir, I think you're as deep in the mud as he is in the mire.

Love. Cursed misfortune !-And where are they gone, sir? Quickly, the truth, the whole truth, dog, or I'll spit you like a sparrow!

Club. I design to tell you, sir. Mr. Lyric, sir, being my master's intimate friend, or so, upon a bribe of a hundred pounds, or so, has sided with him, taken him to Lucinda's garden in your stead, and there's a parson, and all, and so forth.-Now, sir, I hope the poet has brought the play to a very good cata-cata-what d'ye call him, sir?

Love. "Twas he I encountered in the garden. 'Sdeath! tricked by the poet! I'll cut off one of his limbs, I'll make a synalepha of him; I'll— Club. He he he!-two calves sucked on the same cow!-he! he!

Love. Nay, then I begin with you. [Drubs him. Club. Zauns! murder! dem me! zauns! murder! zauns! [Runs off, LoVEWELL after him

SCENE III.-The Antechamber in LUCINDA'S House; a hat and sword on the table.

Enter BRUSH.

Brush. I have been peeping and crouching about like a cat a-mousing. Ha! I smell a rat.-A sword and hat!-There are certainly a pair of breeches appertaining to these, and may be lapped up in my lady's lavender, who knows! [Listens.

Enter LOVEWELL, in a hurry. Love. What, sir? what are you doing? I'm ruined, tricked.

Brush. I believe so too, sir. See here! [Shows the hat and sword. Love. By all my hopes, Roebuck's hat and sword! This is mischief upon mischief.-Run you to the garden, sirrah; and if you find anybody, secure 'em, I'll search the house.-I'm ruined!Fly-[Exit BRUSH.] Roebuck!-What hoa!

Roebuck-hoa!

Roe. Of the dearest, tenderest, whitest, softest, bride that ever blessed man's arms! I'm all air, all a Cupid, all wings, and must fly again to her embraces. Detain me not, my friend.

Love. Hold, sir; I hope you mock me! though that itself's unkind.

Roe. Mock you !-By Heavens, no! she's more than sense can bear, or tongue express.-O Lucinda! should Heaven

Love. Hold, sir; no more!

Roe. I'm on the rack of pleasure, and must con

fess ali.

When her soft melting, white, and yielding waist,
Within my pressing arms was folded fast,
Our lips were melted down by heat of love,
And lay incorporate in liquid kisses,
Whilst in soft broken sighs we catch'd each other's
souls.

Love. Come, come, Roebuck, no more of this extravagance. By Heaven I swear you shan't marry her!

Roe. By Heaven I swear so too; for I'm married already.

Love. Then thou'rt a villain !

Roe. A villain, man!-Psha! that's nonsense. A poor fellow can no sooner get married, than you imagine he may be called a villain presently. You may call me fool, a blockhead, or an ass, by the anthority of custom: but why a villain, for God's sake?

Love. Did not you engage to meet and fight a gentleman for me in Moorfields?

Roe. Did not you promise to engage a lady for ne at the fountain, sir?

Love. This Lucinda is my mistress, sir.
Roe. This Lucinda, sir, is my wife.
Love. Then this decides the matter.-Draw!

[Throws ROEBUCK his sword and draws his own. Roe. Prithee be quiet, man, I've other business to mind on my wedding-night. I must in to my bride. [Going.

Love. Hold, sir! move a step, and by Heavens I'll stab thee.

Roe. Put up, put up! Psha! I an't prepared to die; I an't, devil take me!

Love. Do you dally with me, sir?

Roe. Why, you won't be so unconscionable as to kill a man so suddenly? I han't made my will yet. Perhaps I may leave you a legacy.

Love. Pardon me, Heavens, if pressed by stinging taunts,

My passion urge my arm to act what's foul.

[Offers to push at him.

Roe. Hold!-[Taking up his sword.] 'Tis safest making peace, they say, with sword in hand.—I'l tell thee what, Ned, I would not lose this night's pleasure for the honour of fighting and vanquishing the Seven Champions of Christendom. Permit me then but this night to return to the arms of my dear bride, and faith and troth I'll take a fair thrust with you to-morrow morning.

Love. What! beg a poor reprieve for life!— Then thou'rt a coward.

Roe. You imagined the contrary when you employed me to fight for ye in Moorfields.

Love. Will nothing move thy gall?-Thou'rt base, ungrateful!

Roe. Ungrateful! I love thee, Ned; by Heavens, my friend, I love thee! Therefore name not that word again, for such a repetition would overpay all thy favours.

Love. A cheap, a very cheap way of making acknowledgment, and therefore thou hast catched, which makes thee more ungrateful.

Roe. My friendship even yet does balance passion; but throw in the least grain more of an affront, and by Heaven you turn the scale.

Love. [Pausing.] No, I've thought better; my reason clears: she's not worth my sword; a bully only should draw in her defence, for she's false, a prostitute. [Puts up his sword.

Roe. A prostitute! by Heavens thou liest![Draws] Thou hast blasphemed. Her virtue answers the uncorrupted state of woman; so much above immodesty, that it mocks temptation. She has convinced me of the bright honour of her sex, and I stand champion now for the fair female cause.

Love. Then I have lost what nought on earth can pay. Curse on all doubts, all jealousies, that destroy our present happiness, by mistrusting the future! Thus misbelievers making their heaven

uncertain, find a certain hell. And is she virtuous? Sound the bold charge aloud, which does proclaim me guilty.

Roe. By Heavens, as virtuous as thy sister. Love. My sister!-Ha!-I fear, sir, your marriage with Lucinda has wronged my sister; for her you courted, and I heard she loved you.

Roe. I courted her, 'tis true, and loved her also; Nay, my love to her rivail'd my friendship towards-;

And had my fate allow'd me time for thought,
Her dear remembrance might have stopp'd the
marriage.

But since 'tis past I must own to you, to her,
And all the world,

That I cast off all former passion, and shall
Henceforth confine my love to the dear circle
Of her charming arms from which I just now parted.

Enter LEANTHE in woman's loose apparel.
Lean. I take you at your word.
arms that held you.

These are the

Lean. I am your sister, sir; as such I beg you to pardon the effect of violent passion, which has driven me into some imprudent actions: but none such as may blot the honour of my virtue or family. To hold you no longer in suspense, 'twas I brought the letter from Leanthe; 'twas I managed the intrigue with Lucinda; I sent the note to Mr. Roebuck this afternoon; and I

Roe. That was the bride of happy me.

Love. Thou art my sister and my guardian-angel; For thou hast bless'd thyself, and bless'd thy brother.

Lucinda still is safe, and may be mine.

Roe. May!-She shall be thine, my friend.
Love. Where is Lucinda?

Enter MOCKMODE.

Mock. Not far off; though far enough from you, by the universe!

Lean. You must give me leave not to believe you, sir.

Mock. Oh, madam! I crave you ten thousand pardons, by the universe, madam !-Zauns, madam! Dem me, madam !

[Offers to salute her awkwardly. Love. By your leave, sir- [Thrusts him back. Roe. Ah, cousin Mockmode!-How do all our friends in Shropshire?—

Mock. Now, gentlemen, I thank you all for your trick, your sham. You imagine I have got your whore, cousin, your crack. But, gentlemen, by the assistance of a poet, your Sheely is metamorphosed into the real Lucinda; which your eyes shall testify. Bring in the jury there!-Guilty or not guilty?

Enter LYRIC and TRUDGE.

Trudge. Oh my dear Roebuck!-[Throws off her mask, flies to him, takes him about the neck and kisses him.] And faith is it you, dear joy? And where have you been these seven long years?

Mock. Zauns!

Roe. Hold off, stale iniquity!—[To LEANTHE.] Madam, you'll pardon this?

Trudge. Indeed I won't live with that stranger. You promised to marry me, so you did. Ah, sir, Neddy's a brave boy, God bless him; he's a whole armful; Lord knows I had a heavy load of him.

Love. Guilty or not guilty, Mr. Mockmode? Mock. 'Tis past that; I am condemned, I'm hanged in the marriage noose.-[To TRUDge.] Hark ye, madam, was this the doctor that let you blood under the tongue for the quinsy?

Trudge. Yes, that it was, sir.

Mock. Then he may do so again; for the devil take me if ever I breathe a vein for ye -Mr. Lyric, is this your poetical friendship?

Lyr. I had only a mind to convince you of your squireship.

Love. Now, sister, my fears are over. where's Lucinda? how is she disposed of?

But

Lean. The fear she lay under of being discovered by you, gave me an opportunity of imposing Pindress upon her instead of this gentleman, whom she expected to wear one of Pindress's nightgowns as a disguise. To make the cheat more current, she disguised herself in my clothes, which has made her pass on her maid for me; and I by that opportunity putting on a suit of her's, passed upon this gentleman for Lucinda, my next business is to find her out, and beg her pardon, endeavour her reconcilement to you, which the discovery of the mistakes between both will easily effect. [Exit.

Roe. [To LYRIC.] Well, sir, how was your plot carried on?

Lyr. Why this squire, (will you give me leave to call you so now?) this squire had a mind to personate Lovewell, to catch Lucinda. So I made | Trudge to personate Lucinda, and snap him in this very garden. [To MOCKMODE ] Now, sir, you'll give me leave to write your epithalamium ?

Mock. My epithalamium! my epitaph, screechowl, for I'm buried alive. But I hope you'll return my hundred pound I gave you for marrying

me ?

Lyr. No; but for five hundred more I'll unmarry you. These are hard times, and men of industry must make money.

Mock. Here's the money, by the universe, sir! a bill of five hundred pound sterling upon Mr. Ditto the mercer in Cheapside. Bring me a reprieve, and 'tis yours.

Lyr. Lay it in that gentleman's hands. [MockMODE gives ROEBUCK the bill.] The executioner shall cut the rope.-[Goes to the door and brings in Widow BULLFINCH dressed like a parson.] Here's revelation for you! [Pulls open the gown.

Roe. I hope, madam, you'll pardon my dissembling, since only the hopes of so great a purchase could cause it.

Luc. Let my wishing you much joy and happiness in your bride testify my reconciliation; and at the request of your sister, Mr. Lovewell, I pardon your past jealousies.-You threatened me, Mr. Lovewell, with an Irish entertainment at my wedding. I wish it present now, to assist at your sister's nuptials.

Lean. At my last going hence I sent for 'em, and they're ready.

Love. Call 'em in then.

[An Irish entertainment of three men and three women, dressed after the Fingallian fashion.

Luc. I must reward your sister, Mr. Lovewell, for the many services done me as my page. I therefore settle my fortune and myself on you, on this condition, that you make over your estate in Ireland to your sister, and that gentleman.

Love. 'Tis done; only with this proviso, brother, that you forsake your extravagances.

Roe. Brother, you know I always slighted gold,
But most when offer'd as a sordid bribe.
I scorn to be bribed even to virtue,
But for bright virtue's sake I here embrace it.
[Embracing LEANTHE.

I have espoused all goodness with Leanthe,
And am divorced from all my former follies.
Woman's our fate. Wild and unlawful flames
Debauch us first, and softer love reclaims.
Thus paradise was los by woman's fall;
But virtuous woman thus restores it all.

[Exeunt omnes

I COME not here, our poet's fate to see,
He and his play may be both be damn'd for me:
No, Royal Theatre, I come to mourn for thee.
And must these structures then untimely fall,
Whilst the other house stands, and gets the devil
and all?

Must still kind Fortune through all weathers steer 'em,

And beauties bloom there spite of edar rerum,
Vivitur ingenio, that damn'd motto there,
[Looking up at it.

Seduced me first to be a wicked player.
Hard times indeed; O tempora! O mores!

I knew that stage must down where not one whore is.

But can you have the hearts though?-(Pray now speak,)

After all our services, to let us break?

You cannot do't, unless the devil's in ye,
What arts, what merit, han't we used to win ye?
First, to divert ye with some new French strollers;
We brought ye Bona Sera's, Barba Colars.

[Mocking the late singers. When their male-throats no longer drew your

money :

We got ye a eunuch's pipe, signor Rampony.
That beardless songster we could ne'er make much

on;

The females found a damn'd blot in his scutcheon. An Italian now we've got of mighty fame,

His voice is like the music of the spheres,
It should be heavenly for the price it bears.

[201. a time. He's a handsome fellow too, looks brisk and trim: If he don't take ye, then the devil take him! Besides, lest our white faces always mayn't delight ye,

We've pick'd up gipsies now to please or fright ye.

Lastly, to make our house more courtlier shine, As travel does the men of mode refine,

So our stage-heroes did their tour design;
To mend their manners and coarse English feeding,
They went to Ireland to improve their breeding.
Yet, for all this, we still are at a loss,

Oh Collier! Collier! thou'st frighted away Miss
Cross:

She, to return our foreigner's complaisance,
At Cupid's call, has made a trip to France.
Love's fire-arms here, are since not worth

souse:

We've lost the only touch-hole of our house.

Losing that jewel, gave us a fatal blow: Well, if thin audience must Jo. Haynes undo, Well, if 'tis decreed, nor can thy fate, O stage! Resist the vows of this obdurate age,

a

name;

They'll have such comings in another way.