have to a handsome woman, only because we cannot enjoy her as we would do.

Man. Nay, if thou art a plain dealer too, give me thy hand; for now I'll say I am thy friend indeed: and, for your sakes, though I have been so lately deceived in friends of both sexes,

I will believe there are now in the world
Good-natured friends who are not prostitutes,
And handsome women worthy to be friends:
Yet, for my sake, let no one e'er confide
In tears, or oaths, in love, or friend untried.
[Exeunt omnes.

To you, the judges learned in stage laws,
Our poet now, by me, submits his cause;
For with young judges, such as most of you,
The men by women best their business do:
And truth on't is, if you did not sit here,
To keep for us a term throughout the year,
We could not live by'r tongues; nay, but for you,
Our chamber-practice would be little too.
And 'tis not only the stage-practiser,
Who, by your meeting, gets her living here;
For, as in hall of Westminster,

Sleek sempstress vents, amidst the courts, her

ware;

So, while we bawl, and you in judgment sit,
The visor-mask sells linen too i' the pit.
O, many of your friends, besides us here,
Do live by putting off their several ware.

Here's daily done the great affair o' the nation:
Let love and us then ne'er have long vacation.-
But hold like other pleaders, I have done,
Not my poor client's business, but my own.
Spare me a word then, now, for him.-First know,
Squires of the long robe, he does humbly shew
He has a just right in abusing you,
Because he is a brother templar too;
For, at the bar, you rally one another,
Nay, fool and knave is swallow'd from a brother:
If not the poet here, the templar spare,
And maul him when you catch him at the bar.—
From you, our common modish censurers,
Your favour, not your judgment, 'tis he fears;
Of all loves begs you then to rail, find fault;
For plays, like women, by the world are thought,
(When you speak kindly of 'em,) very naught.

BY

How this vile world is changed! In former days,
Prologues were serious speeches before plays;
Grave, solemn things, as graces are to feasts,
Where poets begg'd a blessing from their guests.
But now, no more like suppliants we come;
A play makes war, and prologue is the drum:
Arm'd with keen satire, and with pointed wit,
We threaten you who do for judges sit,
To save our plays, or else we'll damn your pit.
But, for your comfort, it falls out to-day,
We've a young author and his first-born play;
So, standing only on his good behaviour,
He's very civil, and entreats your favour.
Not but the man has malice, would he shew it,
But, on my conscience, he's a bashful poet:

| You think that strange-no matter; he 'll outgrow it.

Well, I'm his advocate: by me, he prays you—
(I don't know whether I shall speak to please you,)
He prays-O, bless me! what shall I do now?"
Hang me if I know what he prays, or how!
And 'twas the prettiest prologue, as he wrote it:
Well, the deuce take me if I ha'n't forgot it !-
O Lord! for heaven's sake excuse the play,
Because, you know, if it be damn'd to-day,
I shall be hang'd for wanting what to say.
For my sake then-But I'm in such confusion,
I cannot stay to hear your resolution.

[Runs off.

SCENE I.-The Street.

BELLMOUR and VAIN LOVE, meeting. Bell. Vainlove, and abroad so early!-Good morrow. I thought a contemplative lover could no more have parted with his bed in a morning than he could have slept in't.

Vain. Bellmour, good morrow.-Why, truth on't is, these early sallies are not usual to me; but business, as you see, sir-[Shewing letters.] And business must be follow'd, or be lost.

Bell. Pox o' business!-And so must time, my friend, be close pursued, or lost-Business is the rub of life, perverts our aim, casts off the bias. and leaves us wide and short of the intended mark. Vain. Pleasure, I guess, you mean. Bell. Ay, what else has meaning? Vain. Oh, the wise will tell youBell. More than they believe, or understand. Vain. How, how, Ned; a wise man say more than he understands?

Bell. Ay, ay: Pox! wisdom's nothing but a pretending to know and believe more than we really do. You read of but one wise man; and all that he knew was, that he knew nothing.Come, come, leave business to idlers, and wisdon to fools; they have need of 'em: wit be my faculty, and pleasure my occupation; and let father Time shake his glass. Let low and earthly soulgrovel, till they have work'd themselves six foot deep into a grave.-Business is not my element: I roll in a higher orb, and dwell

Vain. In castles i' the air of thy own building: that's thy element, Ned.-Well, as high a flier as you are, I have a lure may make you stoop. [Flings a letter. Bell. Ay marry, sir; I have a hawk's eye at a woman's hand.-There's more elegancy in the false spelling of this superscription [Tukes up the letter than in all Cicero.-Let me see-How now !-Dear perfidious Vainlove ! [Reads.

Vain. Hold, hold : 'Slife ! that's the wrongBell Nay, let's see the name-Sylvia!-How canst thou be ungrateful to that creature? She's extremely pretty, and loves thee entirely. I have heard her breathe such raptures about thee

Vain. Ay, or any body that she's about— Bell. No, faith, Frank, you wrong her : she has been just to you.

Van. That's pleasant, by my troth, from thee, who hast enjoy'd her.

Bell. Never Her affections-'tis true, by Heaven! she own'd it to my face; and, blushing like the virgin morn when it disclosed the cheat, which that trusty bawd of Nature, Night, had hid, confess'd her soul was true to you, though I, by treachery, had stolen the bliss.

Vain. So was true as turtle-in imagination, Ned, hey?-Preach this doctrine to husbands, and the married women will adore thee.

Bell. Why, faith, I think it will do well enough. -if the husbands be out of the way, for the wife to shew her fondness, and impatience of his ab sence, by choosing a lover as like him as she can ; and what is unlike she may help out with her own fancy.

Vain. But is it not an abuse to the lover to be made a blind of? For she only stalks under him, to take aim at her husband.

Bell. As you say, the abuse is to the lover, not :he husband; for 'tis an argument of her great zeal towards him, that she will enjoy him in effigy.

Vain. It must be a very superstitious country, where such zeal passes for true devotion. I doubt it will be damn'd by all our protestant husbands 'or flat idolatry.-But if you can make alderman Fondlewife of your persuasion, this letter will be needless.

Bell. What, the old banker with the handsome wife?

Vain. Ay.

Bell. Let me see-Lætitia-O, 'tis a delicious morsel - Dear Frank, thou art the truest friend in the world.

Vain. Ay, am I not? to be continually starting of hares for you to course.-We were certainly cut out for one another; for my temper quits an amour just where thine takes it up.-But read that it is an appointment for me this evening, when Fondlewife will be gone out of town, to meet the master of a ship, about the return of a venture which he's in danger of losing. Read, read.

Bell. [Reads.] Hum, hum-Out of town this evening, and talks of sending for Mr Spintext to keep me company; but I'll take care he shall not be at home.-Good! Spintext!-0, the fanatic one-eyed parson!

Vain. Ay.

Bell. [Reads.] "Hum, hum-That your conversation will be much more agreeable, if you can counterfeit his habit to blind the servants-Very good ! Then I must be disguised-With all my heart-It adds a gusto to an amour; gives it the greater resemblance of theft; and, among us lewd mortals, the deeper the sin the sweeter.-Frank, I'm amazed at thy good-nature

Vain. Faith, I hate love when 'tis forced upon a man, as I do wine-And this business is none of my seeking; I only happened to be once or twice, where Latitia was the handsomest woman in company, so consequently apply'd myself to her-And it seems she has taken me at my word-Had you been there, or any body, it had been the same.

Bell. I wish I may succeed as the same.

Vain. Never doubt it; for if the spirit of cuckoldom be once raised up in a woman, the devil cann't lay it, 'till she has done't.

Bell. Prythee, what sort of fellow is Fondlewife?

Vain. A kind of mongrel zealot, sometimes very precise and peevish: But I have seen him pleasant enough in his way; much addicted to jealousy, but more to fondness: So that, as he is often jealous without a cause, he's as often satisfied without reason.

Bell. A very even temper, and fit for my purpose. I must get your man Setter to provide my disguise.

Vain. Ay, you may take him for good and all if you will, for you have made him fit for nobody else.- Well

Bell. You're going to visit in return of Sylvia's letter- -Poor rogue. Any hour of the day or night will serve her-But do you know nothing of a new rival there?

Vain. Yes, Heartwell, that surly, old pretended woman-hater, thinks her virtuous; that's one reason why I fail her: I would have her fret herself out of conceit with me, that she may entertain some thoughts of him. I know he visits her every day.

Bell. Yet rails on still, and thinks his love unknown to us; a little time will swell him so, he must be forced to give it birth, and the discovery must needs be very pleasant from himself, to see what pains he will take, and how he will strain to be delivered of a secret, when he has miscarried on't already.

Vain. Well, good morrow; let's dine together; I'll meet you at the old place.

Bell. With all my heart; it lies convenient for us to pay our afternoon service to our mistresses; I find I am damnably in love, I'm so uneasy for not seeing Belinda yesterday.

tient.

Vain. But I saw my Araminta, yet am as impa[Erit. Bell. Why what a cormorant in love am I! who, not contented with the slavery of honourable love in one place, and the pleasure of enjoying some half a score mistresses of my own acquiring, must yet take Vainlove's business upon my hands, because it lay too heavy upon his; so am not only forced to lie with other men's wives for 'em, but must also undertake the harder task of obliging their mistresses I must take up, or I shall never hold out; flesh and blood cannot bear it always.

Enter SHARPER.

Sharp. I'm sorry to see this, Ned: Once a man comes to his soliloquies, I give him for gone. Bell. Sharper, I'm glad to see thee. Sharp. What, is Belinda cruel, that you are so thoughtful?

Bell. No faith, not for that- -But there's a business of consequence fallen out to-day, that requires some consideration.

Sharp. Pr'ythee what mighty business of consequence canst thou have?

Bell. Why, you must know, 'tis a piece of work toward the finishing of an alderman; it seems I must put the last hand to it, and dub him cuckold, that he may be of equal dignity with the rest of his brethren: So I must beg Belinda's pardonSharp. Faith, e'en give her over for good and

all; you can have no hopes of getting her for a mistress, and she is too proud, too inconstant, too affected and too witty, and too handsome for a wife.

'Tis

Bell. But she cann't have too much moneyThere's twelve thousand pound, Tom.---true she is excessively foppish and affected, but in my conscience, I believe the baggage loves me, for she never speaks well of me herself, nor suffers any body else to rail at me. Then, as I told you, there's twelve thousand pound-Hum--Why faith, upon second thoughts, she does not appear to be so very affected neither-Give her her due, I think the woman's a woman, and that's all. As such I'm sure I shall like her; for the devil take me if I don't love all the sex.

Sharp. And here comes one who swears as heartily he hates all the sex.

Enter HEARTWELL.

Bell. Who, Heartwell! Ay, but he knows better things- How now, George! where hast thou been snarling odious truths, and entertaining company like a physician, with discourse of their diseases and infirmities? What fine lady hast thou been putting out of conceit with herself, and persuading that the face she had been making all the morning was none of her own? for I know thou art as unmannerly and as unwelcome to a woman, as a looking-glass after the small-pox.

Heart. I confess I have not been sneering fulsome lies and nauseous flattery, fawning upon a little tawdry whore, that will fawn upon me again, and entertain any puppy that comes, like a tumbler, with the same tricks over and over. For such, I guess, may have been your late employment.

Bell. Would thou hadst come a little sooner! Vainlove would have wrought thy conversion, and been a champion for the cause.

Heart. What, has he been here? that's one of love's April-fools, is always upon some errand that's to no purpose, ever embarking in adventures, yet never comes to harbour.

Sharp. That's because he always sets out in foul weather, loves to buffet with the winds, meet the tide, and sail in the teeth of opposition.

Heart. What, has he not dropt anchor at Araminta?

Bell. Truth on't is, she fits his temper best, is a kind of floating island; sometimes seems in reach, then vanishes, and keeps him busied in the search.

Sharp. She had need have a good share of sense to manage so capricious a lover.

Bell. Faith, I don't know, he's of a temper the most easy to himself in the world; he takes as much always of an amour as he cares for, and quits it when it grows stale or unpleasant.

Sharp. An argument of very little passion, very good understanding, and very ill-nature. Heart. And proves that Vainlove plays the fool with discretion.

Sharp. You, Bellmour, are bound in gratitude to stickle for him; you with pleasure reap that fruit, which he takes pains to sow: He does the

drudgery in the mine, and you stamp your image on the gold.

Bell. He's of another opinion, and says I do the drudgery in the mine. Well, we have each our share of sport, and each that which he likes best; 'tis his diversion to set, 'tis mine to cover the partridge.

Heart. And it should be mine to let 'em go again.

Sharp. Not till you had mouth'd a little, George: I think that's all thou art fit for now.

Heart. Good Mr Young-fellow, you're mistaken; as able as yourself, and as nimble too, tho' I mayn't have so much mercury in my limbs; 'tis true indeed, I don't force appetite, but wait the natural call of my lust, and think it time enough to be lewd, after I have had the temptation.

Bell. Time enough ! ay too soon, I should rather have expected, from a person of your gravity.

-you

Heart. Yet it is oftentimes too late with some of you young, termagant flashy sinnershave all the guilt of the intention, and none of the pleasure of the practice-'Tis true, you are so eager in pursuit of the ten ptation, that you save the devil the trouble of leading you into it: Nor is it out of discretion, that you don't swallow that very hook yourselves have baited, but you are cloyed with the preparative, and what you mean for a whet, turns the edge of your puny stomachs. Your love is like your courage, which you shew for the first year or two upon all occasions; till in a little time, being disabled or disarmed, you abate of your vigour; and that daring blade, which was so often drawn, is bound to the peace for ever after.

Bell. Thou art an old fornicator of a singular good principle indeed! and art for encouraging youth, that they may be as wicked as thou art at thy years.

Heart. I am for having every body be what they pretend to be; a whoremaster be a whoremaster; and not like Vainlove, kiss a lap-dog with passion, when it would disgust him from the lady's own lips.

Bell. That only happens sometimes, where the dog has the sweeter breath, for the more cleanly conveyance. But, George, you must not quarrel with little gallantries of this nature: Women are often won by 'em. Who would refuse to kiss a lap-dog, if it were preliminary to the lips of his lady ?

Sharp. Or omit playing with her fan, and cooling her if she were hot, when it might entitle him to the office of warming her when she should be cold?

Bell. What is it to read a play in a rainy day, when it may be the means of getting into a fair lady's books? Though you should be now and then interrupted in a witty scene, and she perhaps preserve her laughter, tiil the jest were over; even this may be borne with, considering the reward in prospect.

Heart. I confess, you that are women's asses bear great burdens; are forced to undergo dress.

| ing, dancing, singing, sighing, whining, rhyming, flattering, lying, grinning, cringing, and the drudgery of loving to boot.

Bell. O brute! the drudgery of loving!

Heart. Ay; why to come to love through all these incumbrances is like coming to an estate overcharged with debts, which, by the time you have paid, yields no further profit than what the bare tillage and manuring of the land will produce at the expence of your own sweat. Bell. Pr'ythee how dost thou love? Sharp. He! he hates the sex. Heart. So I hate physic too. love to take it for my health. Bell. Well come off, George, if at any time you should be taken straying.

-yet I may

Sharp. He has need of such an excuse, considering the present state of his body. Heart. How d'ye mean?

Sharp. Why, if whoring be purging, (as you call it,) then, I may say, marriage is entering into a course of physic.

Bell. How, George, does the wind blow there? Heart. It will as soon blow north and by south. -Marry, quotha! I hope in heaven I have a greater portion of grace, and I think I have baited too many of those traps to be caught in one myself.

Bell. Who the devil would have thee, unless 'twere an oyster-woman, to propagate young fry for Billingsgate ?-Thy talent will never recom. mend thee to any thing of better quality.

Heart. My talent is chiefly that of speaking truth, which I don't expect should ever recommend me to people of quality.-I thank Heaven I have very honestly purchased the hatred of all the great families in town.

Sharp. And you, in return of spleen, hate them. -But could you hope to be received into the alliance of a noble family

Heart. No; I hope I shall never merit that affliction-to be punished with a wife of birth, be a stag of the first head, and bear my horns aloft, like one of the supporters of my wife's coat. -'Sdeath, I would not be a cuckold to e'er an illustrious where in England.

Bell. What, not to make your family, man, and provide for your children?

Sharp. For her children, you mean.

Heart. Ay, there you've nick'd it-there's the devil upon devil-Ŏ the pride and joy of heart 'twould be to me to have my son and heir resemble such a duke!-to have a fleering coxcomb scoff and cry-Master, your son's mighty like his grace, has just his smile and air of's face. 一 Then replies another-Methinks he has more of the marquis of such a place about his nose and eyes; though he has my Lord What-d'ye-call's mouth to a tittle-Then I, to put it off as unconcern'd, come chuck the infant under the chin, force a smile, and cry-Ay, the boy takes after his mother's relations-when the devil and she know 'tis a little compound of the whole body of nobility.

Bell, and Sharp. Ha, ha, ha!