Dap. 'Tis a sign so.

Flip. Come, come, look up, man; is that a rival to contest with you?

Dap. I will contest with no rival, not with my old rival your coachman; but they have heartily my resignation; and, to do you a favour, but myself a greater, I will help tie the knot you are fumbling for now, betwixt your cully here and you.

Flip. Go, go, I take that kind of jealousy worst of all, to suspect I would be debauched to beastly matrimony.-But who are those gentlemen, pray? are they men of fortunes, Mrs. Joyner ?

Joyn. I believe so.

Flip. Do you believe so, indeed?-Gentlemen[Advancing towards RANGER and VINCENT. Ran. If the civility we owe to ladies had not controlled our envy to Mr. Dapperwit, we had interrupted ere this your private conversation.

Flip. Your interruption, sir, had been most civil and obliging;-for our discourse was of marriage. Ran. That is a subject, madam, as grateful as

common.

Flip. O fy, fy! are you of that opinion too? I cannot suffer any to talk of it in my company. Ran. Are you married then, madam?

Flip. No, certainly.

Ran. I am sure so much beauty cannot despair of it.

Flip. Despair of it!—

Ran. Only those that are married, or cannot be married, hate to hear of marriage.

Flip. Yet you must know, sir, my aversion to marriage is such, that you, nor no man breathing, shall ever persuade me to it.

Ran. Cursed be the man should do so rude a thing as to persuade you to anything against your inclination! I would not do it for the world, ! madam.

Flip. Come, come, though you seem to be a civil gentleman, I think you no better than your neighbours. I do not know a man of you all that will not thrust a woman up into a corner, and then talk an hour to her impertinently of marriage.

Ran. You would find me another man in a corner, I assure you, madam; for you should not have a word of marriage from me, whatsoever you might find in my actions of it; I hate talking as much as you.

Flip. I hate it extremely.

Ran. I am your man then, madam; for I find just the same fault with your sex as you do with ours:-I ne'er could have to do with woman in my life, but still she would be impertinently talking of marriage to me.

Flip. Observe that, Mrs. Joyner.

Dap. Pray, Mr. Ranger, let's go; I had rather drink with Mr. Vincent, than stay here with you; besides 'tis Park-time.

Ran. [To DAPPERWIT.] I come.-[To FLIPPANT.] Since you are a lady that hate marriage, I'll do you the service to withdraw the company; for those that hate marriage hate loss of time.

Flip. Will you go then, sir? but before you go, sir, pray tell me is your aversion to marriage real?

Ran. Certainly. Flip. Come, I cannot believe it: you dissemble it only because I pretend it.

Ran. Do you but pretend it then, madam? Flip. [Aside] I shall discover myself [Aloud] I mean, because I hold against it, you do the same in complaisance :-for I have heard say, cunning men think to bring the coy and untractable women to tameness as they do some mad people-by humouring their frenzies.

Ran. I am none of those cunning men, yet have too much wit to entertain the presumption of designing upon you.

Flip. "Twere no such presumption neither. Dap. Come away; 'sdeath! don't you see your danger?

Ran. Those aims are for sir Simon.-Good night,

madam.

Flip. Will you needs go, then?-[To Sir SIMON] The gentlemen are a going, sir Simon; will you let 'em?

Sir Sim. Nay, madam, if you cannot keep 'em, how should I?

Flip. Stay, sir; because you hate marriage, I'll sing you a new song against it. [Sings.

A spouse I do hate,

For either she's false or she's jealous;
But give us a mate

Who nothing will ask us or tell us.
She stands on no terms,
Nor chaffers, by way of indenture,
Her love for your farms;
But takes her kind man at a venture.

If all prove not right,
Without an act, process, or warning,
From wife for a night
You may be divorced in the morning.
When parents are slaves,
Their brats cannot be any other;

Great wits and great braves
Have always a punk to their mother.

Though it be the fashion for women of quality to sing any song whatever, because the words are not distinguished, yet I should have blushed to have done it now, but for you, sir.

Ran. The song is edifying, the voice admirable -and, once more, I am your servant, madam. Flip. What, will you go too, Mr. Dapperwit ? Sir Sim. Pray, Mr. Dapperwit, do not you go

too.

SCENE I-St. James's Park, at Night.

Enter RANGER, VINCENT, and DAPPERWIT. Ran. Hang me, if I am not pleased extremely with this new-fashioned caterwauling, this midnight coursing in the Park.

Vin. A man may come after supper with his three bottles in his head, reel himself sober, without reproof from his mother, aunt, or grave

relation.

Ran. May bring his bashful wench, and not have her put out of countenance by the impudent honest women of the town.

Dap. And a man of wit may have the better of the dumb show of well-trimmed vest or fair peruke:-no man's now is whitest.

Ran. And now no woman's modest or proud; for her blushes are hid, and the rubies on her lips are died, and all sleepy and glimmering eyes have lost their attraction.

Vin. And now a man may carry a bottle under his arm instead of his hat;-and no observing spruce fop will miss the cravat that lies on one's shoulder, or count the pimples on one's face.

Dap. And now the brisk repartee ruins the complaisant cringe, or wise grimace.-Something 'twas, we men of virtue always loved the night. Ran. O blessed season! Vin. For good-fellows. Ran. For lovers.

Dap. And for the Muses.

Ran. When I was a boy I loved the night so well, I had a strong vocation to be a bellman's apprentice.

Vin. I, a drawer.

Dap. And I, to attend the waits of Westminster, let me perish!

Ran. But why do we not do the duty of this and such other places ;-walk, censure, and speak ill of all we meet ?

Dap. 'Tis no fault of mine, let me perish!

Vin. Fy, fy! satirical gentlemen, this is not your time; you cannot distinguish a friend from a fop.

Dap. No matter, no matter; they will deserve amongst 'em the worst we can say. Ran. Who comes here, Dapperwit?

[People walking slowly over the stage. Dap. By the toss of his head, training of his feet, and his elbows playing at bo-peep behind his back, it should be my lord Easy.

Ran. And who the woman?

Dap. My Lord what-d'ye-call's daughter, that had a child by

Vin. Dapperwit, hold your tongue.

Ran. How are you concerned?

Vin. Her brother's an honest fellow, and will drink his glass.

Ran. Prithee, Vincent, Dapperwit did not hinder drinking to-night, though he spake against it; why, then, should you interrupt his sport?-Now, let him talk of anybody.

Vin. So he will,-till you cut his throat.

Ran. Why should you on all occasions thwart him, contemn him, and maliciously look pro at

Vin. Why does he friends, then, and my best Ran. Dapperwit, be y game, I think, is before m

Dap. This Ranger, I t lities of all your town fop for a spruce lord or a wen

Vin. Nay, if you must friends, I may forgive you Enter LYDIA and my Lady the st

Lyd. False Ranger, sha

Vin. Those are women,

Dap. The least seems t

Vin. Faith, I think I c the dark!-let's try. Dap. They are persons ance ;-hold!

Vin. Nay, if they are I acquaintance, I may be th [The la

Re-enter LYDIA and Lyd. I come hither to Flip. Of my love to yo but you could have deba certainly. I would not r were to redeem my dear h Lyd. I believe you :Flip. Another husband Lyd. There does not many a match is made.

Flip. That a woman of word match in her mout the fellows do not make they? I abominate ho honour.

Lyd. If they should ma I know you would preven

Re-enter VINCENT and DA towards t

But here come two men w Flip. Do they come?Lyd. Prepare for an as Flip. Will they put u never put to't yet. If t should drop down, down, Lyd. I believe, truly, y

SCENE I.

or they are drunk and cannot run. Oh drink! abominable drink! instead of inflaming love, it quenches it; and for one lover it encourages, it makes a thousand impotent. Curse on all wine! even Rhenish wine and sugar

Enter ADDLEPLOT, muffled in a cloak.

But fortune will not see me want; here comes a single bully,-I wish he may stand ;

For now a-nights the jostling nymph is bolder Than modern satyr with his cloak o'er shoulder. Well met, sir. [She puts on her mask. Sir Sim. How shall I know that, for sooth? Who are you? do you know me?

Flip. Who are you? don't you know me ?
Sir Sim. Not I, faith and troth!

Flip. I am glad on't; for no man e'er liked a woman the better for having known her before.

Sir Sim. Ay, but then one can't be so free with a new acquaintance as with an old one; she may deny one the civility.

Flip. Not till you ask her.

Sir Sim. But I am afraid to be denied.

Flip. Let me tell you, sir, you cannot isoblige us women more than in distrusting us.

Sir Sim. Pish! what should one ask for, when you know one's meaning ?-but shall I deal freely with you?

Flip. I love, of my life, men should deal freely with me; there are so few men will deal freely with

one

Sir Sim. Are you not a fireship, a punk, madam ? Flip. Well, sir, I love raillery.

Sir Sim. Faith and troth, I do not rally, I deal freely.

Flip. This is the time and place for freedom, sir. Sir Sim. Are you handsome?

Flip. Joan's as good as my lady in the dark, certainly but men that deal freely never ask questions, certainly.

Sir Sim. How then! I thought to deal freely, and put a woman to the question, had been all one. Flip. But, let me tell you, those that deal freely indeed, take a woman by

Sir Sim. What, what, what, what?
Flip. By the hand-and lead her aside.
Sir Sim. Now I understand you; come along

then.

Enter behind Musicians with torches.

Flip. What unmannerly rascals are those that bring light into the Park? 'twill not be taken well from 'em by the women, certainly.-[Aside.] Still disappointed!

Sir Sim. Oh, the fiddles, the fiddles! I sent for them hither to oblige the women, not to offend 'em ; for I intend to serenade the whole Park to-night. But my frolic is not without an intrigue, faith and troth: for I know the fiddles will call the whole herd of vizard masks together; and then shall I discover if a strayed mistress of mine be not amongst 'em, whom I treated to-night at the French-house; but as soon as the jilt had eat up my meat and drunk her two bottles, she ran away from me, and left me alone.

Flip. How is it he! Addleplot!-that I could not know him by his faith and troth!

[Aside.

Sir Sim. Now I would understand her tricks; because I intend to marry her, and should be glad to know what I must trust to.

Flip. So thou shalt ;-but not yet.

[Aside.

Sir Sim. Though I can give a great guess already; for if I have any intrigue or sense in me, she is as arrant a jilt as ever pulled pillow from under husband's head, faith and troth. Moreover she is bow-legged, hopper-hipped, and, betwixt pomatum and Spanish red, has a complexion like a Holland cheese, and no more teeth left, than such as give a haut goût to her breath; but she is rich, faith and troth.

Flip. [Aside.] Oh rascal! he has heard somebody else say all this of me. But I must not discover myself, lest I should be disappointed of my revenge; for I will marry him.

[The Musicians approaching, exit FLIPPANT. Sir Sim. What, gone!-come then, strike up, my lads. [Enter Men and women in vizards-a Dance, during which ADDLEFLOT, for the most part, stands still in a cloak and vizard; but sometimes goes about peeping, and examining the women's clothes-the Dance ended, all exeunt.

Re-enter FLIPPANT and LYDIA, after them VINCENT and DAPPERWIT.

Flip. [To LYDIA.] Nay, if you stay any longer, I must leave you again. [FLIPPANT going off. Vin. We have overtaken them at last again. These are they they separate too; and that's but a challenge to us.

Dap. Let me perish ! ladies

Lyd. Nay good madam, let's unite, now here's the common enemy upon us.

Vin. Damn me! ladies

Dap. Hold, a pox! you are too rough.-Let me perish! ladies

Lyd. Not for want of breath, gentlemen :-we'll stay rather.

Dap. For want of your favour rather, sweet ladies.

Flip. [Aside.] That's Dapperwit, false villain ! but he must not know I am here. If he should, I should lose his thrice agreeable company, and he would run from me as fast as from the bailiffs. [To LYDIA.] What! you will not talk with 'em, 1 hope?

Lyd. Yes, but I will.

Flip. Then you are a Park-woman, certainly; and you will take it kindly if I leave you. Lyd. No, you must not leave me. Flip. Then you must leave them.

Lyd. I'll see if they are worse company than you, first.

Flip. Monstrous impudence! come?

will you not [Pulls LYDIA.

Vin. Nay, madam, I never suffer any violence to be used to a woman but what I do myself: she must stay, and you must not go.

Flip. Unhand me, you rude fellow!

Vin. Nay, now I am sure you will stay and be kind; for coyness in a woman is as little sign of true modesty, as huffing in a man is of true courage. Dap. Use her gently, and speak soft things to

her.

Lyd. [Aside.] Now I do guess I know my coxcomb.-[ To DAPPERWIT.] Sir, I am extremely glad I am fallen into the hands of a gentleman that can speak soft things; and this is so fine a night to hear soft things in;-morning, I should have said. Dap. It will not be morning, dear madam, till

you pull off your mask.-[Aside.] That I think was brisk.

Lyd. Indeed, dear sir, my face would frighten back the sun.

Dap. With glories more radiant than his own: -[Aside.] I keep up with her, I think.

Lyd. But why would you put me to the trouble of lighting the world, when I thought to have gone to sleep?

Dap. You only can do it, dear madam, let me perish!

Lyd. But why would you (of all men) practise treason against your friend Phoebus, and depose him for a mere stranger?

Dap. I think she knows me.

[Aside.

Lyd. But he does not do you justice, I believe; and you are so positively cock-sure of your wit, you would refer to a mere stranger your plea to the bay-tree.

[Aside.

Dap. She jeers me, let me perish! Vin. Dapperwit, a little of your aid; for my lady's invincibly dumb.

Dap. Would mine had been so too! [Aside. Vin. I have used as many arguments to make her speak, as are requisite to make other women hold their tongues.

Dap. Well, I am ready to change sides.-Yet before I go, madam, since the moon consents now I should see your face, let me desire you to pull off your mask; which to a handsome lady is a favour, I'm sure.

Lyd. Truly, sir, I must not be long in debt to you for the obligation; pray let me hear you recite some of your verses; which to a wit is a favour, I'm sure.

Dap. Madam, it belongs to your sex to be obliged first; pull off your mask, and I'll pull out my paper.-[Aside.] Brisk again, of my side.

Lyd. 'Twould be in vain, for you would want a candle now.

Dap. [Aside.] I dare not make use again of the lustre of her face. [To LYDIA.] I'll wait upon you home then, madam.

Lyd. Faith, no; I believe it will not be much to our advantages to bring my face or your poetry to light: for I hope you have yet a pretty good opinion of my face, and so have I of your wit. But if you are for proving your wit, why do not you write a play?

Dap. Because 'tis now no more reputation to write a play, than it is honour to be a knight. Your true wit despises the title of poet, as much as your true gentleman the title of knight; for as a man may be a knight and no gentleman, so a man nav be a poet and no wit, let me perish!

Lyd. Pray, sir, how are you dignified or distinguished amongst the rates of wits? and how many rates are there?

Dap. There are as many degrees of wits as of lawyers as there is first your solicitor, then your attorney, then your pleading-counsel, then your chamber-counsel, and then your judge; so there is first your court-wit, your coffee-wit, your poll-wit, or politic-wit, your chamber-wit, or scribble-wit, and last of all, your judge-wit, or critic.

Lyd. But are there as many wits as lawyers? Lord, what will become of us !-What employment can they have? how are they known?

Dap. First, your court wit is a fashionable. insinuating, flattering, cringing, grimacing fellow

-and has wit enough to solicit a suit of love; and if he fail, he has malice enough to ruin the woman with a dull lampoon :-but he rails still at the man that is absent, for you must know all wits rail; and his wit properly lies in combing perukes, matching ribbons, and being severe, as they call it, upon other people's clothes.

Lyd. Now, what is the coffee-wit?

Dap. He is a lying, censorious, gossiping, quibbling wretch, and sets people together by the ears over that sober drink, coffee: he is a wit, as he is a commentator, upon the Gazette; and he rails at the pirates of Algier, the Grand Signior of Constantinople, and the Christian Grand Signior. Lyd. What kind of wit is your poll-wit?

Dap. He is a fidgetting, busy, dogmatical, hotheaded fop, that speaks always in sentences and proverbs. (as other in similitudes,) and he rails perpetually against the present government. His wit lies in projects and monopolies, and penning speeches for young parliament men.

Lyd. But what is your chamber-wit, or scribble

wit?

Dap. He is a poring, melancholy, modest sot, ashamed of the world: he searches all the records of wit, to compile a breviate of them for the use of players, printers, booksellers, and sometimes cooks, tobacco-men; he employs his railing against the ignorance of the age, and all that have more money than he.

Lyd. Now your last.

Dap. Your judge-wit, or critic, is all these together, and yet has the wit to be none of them : he can think, speak, write, as well as the rest, but scorns (himself a judge) to be judged by posterity: he rails at all the other classes of wits, and his wit lies in damning all but himself:-he is your true wit.

Lyd. Then, I suspect you are of his form.
Dap. I cannot deny it, madam.

Vin. Dapperwit, you have been all this time on the wrong side; for you love to talk all, and here's a lady would not have hindered you.

Dap. pox! I have been talking too long indeed here; for wit is lost upon a silly weak woman, as well as courage. [Aside.

Vin. I have used all common means to move a woman's tongue and mask; I called her ugly, old, and old acquaintance, and yet she would not disprove me:-but here comes Ranger, let him try what he can do; for, since my mistress is dogged, I'll go sleep alone. [Exit.

Re-enter RANGER.

Lyd. [Aside.] Ranger! 'tis he indeed: I am sorry he is here, but glad I discovered him before I went. Yet he must not discover me, lest I should be prevented hereafter in finding him out. False Ranger!-[To FLIPPANT.] Nay, if they bring fresh force upon us, madam, 'tis time to quit the field. [Excunt LYDIA and FLIPPANT. Ran. What, play with your quarry till it fly from you!

Dap. You frighten it away.

Run. Ha! is not one of those ladies in mourn

SCENE 11.

Ran. Did you talk with her?

Dap. Yes, she is one of your brisk silly baggages. Ran. 'Tis she, 'tis she !-I was afraid I saw her betore; let us follow 'em : prithee make haste.Aside.] 'Tis Lydia. [Exeunt. Re-enter, at the other door, LYDIA and my Lady FLIPPANT -DAPPERWIT and RANGER following them at a distance. Lyd. They follow us yet, I fear.

Flip. You do not fear it, certainly; otherwise you would not have encouraged them.

Lyd. For Heaven's sake, madam, waive your quarrel a little, and let us pass by your coach, and so on foot to your acquaintance in the old Pall-mall; for I would not be discovered by the man that came up last to us. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.-CHRISTINA'S Lodging.

Enter CHRISTINA and ISABEL.

Isa. For Heaven's sake, undress yourself, madam! They'll not return to-night: all people have left the Park an hour ago.

Chri. What is't o'clock?
Isa. 'Tis past one.

Chri. It cannot be !

Isa. I thought that time had only stolen from happy lovers :-the disconsolate have nothing to do but to tell the clock.

Chri. I can only keep account with my misfortunes.

Isa. I am glad they are not innumerable. Chri. And, truly, my undergoing so often your impertinency is not the least of them.

Isa. I am then more glad, madam, for then they cannot be great; and it is in my power, it seems, to make you in part happy, if I could but hold this villanous tongue of mine: but then let the people of the town hold their tongues if they will, for I cannot but tell you what they say.

Chri. What do they say?

Isa. Faith, madam, I am afraid to tell you, now I think on't.

Chri. Is it so ill?

Isa. O, such base, unworthy things!

Chri. Do they say I was really Clerimont's wench, as he boasted; and that the ground of the quarrel betwixt Valentine and him was not Valentine's vindication of my honour, but Clerimont's jealousy of him?

Isa. Worse, worse a thousand times!-such villanous things to the utter ruin of your reputation! Chri. What are they?

Isa. Faith, madam, you'll be angry: 'tis the old trick of lovers to hate their informers, after they have made 'em such.

Chri. I will not be angry.

Isa. They say then, since Mr. Valentine's flying into France, you are grown mad, have put yourself into mourning, live in a dark room, where you'll see nobody, nor take any rest day or night, but rave and talk to yourself perpetually.

Chri. Now, what else?

Isa. But the surest sign of your madness is, they say, because you are desperately resolved (in case my lord Clerimont should die of his wounds) to transport yourself and fortune into France to Mr. Valentine: a man that has not a groat to return you in exchange.

13

Chri. All this, hitherto, is true; now to the

rest.

Isa. Indeed, madam, I have no more to tell you. I was sorry, I'm sure, to hear so much of any lady of mine."

Chri. Insupportable insolence!

Isa. [Aside.] This is some revenge for my want of sleep to-night.-[Knocking at the door.] So, I hope my old second is come; 'tis seasonable relief. [Exit.

Chri. Unhappy Valentine! couldst thou but see how soon thy absence and misfortunes have disbanded all thy friends, and turned thy slaves all renegadoes, thou sure wouldst prize my only faithful heart!

Enter my Lady FLIPPANT, LYDIA, and ISABEL.

Flip. Hail, faithful shepherdess! but, truly, I had not kept my word with you, in coming back to-night, if it had not been for this lady, who has her intrigues too with the fellows as well as you.

Lyd. Madam, under my lady Flippant's protection, I am confident to beg yours; being just now pursued out of the Park by a relation of mine, by whom it imports me extremely not to be discovered:-[Knocking at the door.] but I fear he is now at the door.-[ To ISABEL, who goes out.] Let me desire you to deny me to him courageously ;— for he will hardly believe he can be mistaken in me.

Chri. In such an occasion, where impudence is requisite, she will serve you as faithfully as you can wish, madam.

Flip. Come, come, madam, do not upbraid her with her assurance, a qualification that only fits her for a lady's service. A fine woman of the town can be no more without a woman that can make an excuse with assurance, than she can be without a glass, certainly.

Chri. She needs no advocate.

Flip. How can any one alone manage an amorous intrigue? though the birds are tame, somebody must help draw the net. If 'twere not for a woman that could make an excuse with assurance, how should we wheedle, jilt, trace, discover, countermine, undermine, and blow up the stinking fellows? which is all the pleasure I receive, or design by them; for I never admitted a man to my conversation, but for his punishment, certainly. Chri. Nobody will doubt that, certainly.

Re-enter ISABEL,

Isa. Madam, the gentleman will not be mistaken: he says you are here, he saw you come in; he is your relation, his name's Ranger, and is come to wait upon you home. I had much ado to keep him from coming up.

Lyd. [To CHRISTINA.] Madam, for Heaven's sake, help me! 'tis yet in your power; if but, while I retire into your dining-room, you will please to personate me, and own yourself for her he pursued out of the Park: you are in mourning too, and your stature so much mine it will not contradict you.

Chri. I am sorry, madam, I must dispute any command of yours. I have made a resolution to see the face of no man, till an unfortunate friend of mine, now out of the kingdom, return.

Lyd. By that friend, and by the hopes you have to see him, let me conjure you to keep me