of raillery, and subject me so to injurious usage, my lord, that I can lay no claim to any part of your regard, except your pity. Old Mir. Breathes he vital air, that dares pre sume, With rude behaviour, to profane such excellence? And you shall see how my sudden revenge Y. Mir. Sir! Oriana. Good my lord, Old Mir. If he, or any he,Oriana. Pray, my lord, the gentleman's a stranger. Old Mir. O, your pardon, sir, but if you hadremember, sir, the lady now is mine, her injuries are mine; therefore, sir, you understand me.Come, madam. [Leads Oriana to the door; she goes off; Y. Mir. Ecoutez, Monsieur le Count. Old Mir. Boh! what language is that, sir? Old Mir. What d'ye mean? Y. Mir. This, sir. (Trips up his heels.) Old Mir. A very concise quarrel, truly-I'll bully him.-Trinidade Seigneur, give me fair play. (Offering to rise.) Y. Mir. By all means, sir. (Takes away his sword.) Now, seigneur, where's that bombast look, and fustian face, your countship wore just now? (Strikes him.) Old Mir. The rogue quarrels well, very well; my own son right! But hold, sirrah, no more jesting; I'm your father, sir! your father! Y. Mir. My father! Then, by this light, I could find in my heart to pay thee. (Aside.) Is the fellow mad? Why, sure, sir, I ha'n't frighted you out of your senses? Old Mir. But you have, sir! Y. Mir. Then I'll beat them into you again. (Offers to strike him.) Old Mir. Why, rogue!-Bob, dear Bob! don't you know me, child? Y. Mir. Ha, ha, ha! the fellow's downright distracted! Thou miracle of impudence! wouldst thou make me believe, that such a grave gentleman as my father would go a masquerading thus? That a person of threescore and three would run about, in a fool's coat, to disgrace himself and family? why, you impudent villain, do you think I will suffer such an affront to pass upon my honoured father, my worthy father, my dear father? 'Sdeath, sir! mention my father but once again, and I'll send your soul to thy grandfather this minute! (Offering to stab him.) Old Mir. Well, well, I am not your father. Y. Mir. Why, then, sir, you are the saucy, hectoring Spaniard, and I'll use you accordingly. Enter DUGARD, ORIANA, Maid, and PETIT. Dugard runs to Young Mirabel, the rest to Old Mirabel. Dug. Fie, fie, Mirabel! murder your father! Y.Mir. My father? What, is the whole family mad? Give me way, sir; I won't be held. Old Mir. No, nor I neither; let me begone, pray. (Offering to go.) Y. Mir. My father! Old Mir. Ay, you dog's face! I am your father, for I have borne as much for thee, as your mother ever did. Y. Mir. O ho! then this was a trick, it seems, a design, a contrivance, a stratagem! Oh, how my bones ache! Old Mir. Your bones, sirrah! why yours? Y. Mir. Why sir, ha'n't I been beating my own flesh and blood all this while? O, madam, (To Oriana.) I wish your ladyship joy of your new dignity. Here was a contrivance indeed! Oriana. Pray, sir, don't insult the misfortunes of your own creating. Dug. My prudence will be counted cowardice, if I stand tamely now. (Comes up between Young Mirabel and his sister.) Well, sir. Y. Mir. Well, sir! Do you take me for one of your tenants, sir, that you put on your landlord's face at me? Dug. On what presumption, sir, dare you assume thus? (Draws.) Old Mir. What's that to you, sir? (Draws.) Petit. Help! help! the lady faints! (Oriana falls into her maid's arms.) Y. Mir. Vapours! vapours! she'll come to herself. If it be angry fit, a dram of assafoetida; if jealousy, hartshorn in water; if the mother, burnt feathers; if grief, ratafia; if it be strait stays, or corns, there's nothing like a dram of plain brandy. [Exit. Oriana. Hold off, give me air.-O, my brother, would you preserve my life, endanger not your own; would you defend my reputation, leave it to itself;" 'tis a dear vindication that's purchased by the sword; for, though our champion proves victorious, yet our honour is wounded. Old Mir. Ay, and your lover may be wounded, that's another thing. But I think you are pretty brisk again, my child. Oriana. Ay, sir, my indisposition was only a pretence to divert the quarrel; the capricious taste of your sex, excuses this artifice in ours. [Exit. Petit. Come, Mr. Dugard, take courage; there is a way still left to fetch him again. Old Mir. Sir, I'll have no plot that has any relation to Spain. Dug. I scorn all artifice whatsoever; my sword shall do her justice. Petit. Pretty justice, truly! Suppose you run him through the body, you run her through the heart at the same time. Old Mir. And me through the head-rot your sword, sir, we'll have plots. Come, Petit, let's hear. Petit. What if she pretended to go into a nunnery, and so bring him about to declare himself? Dug. That, I must confess, has a face. Old Mir. A face! a face like an angel, sir! Ad's my life, sir, 'tis the most beautiful plot in christendom. We'll about it immediately. [Exeunt. ACT IV. SCENE I.-Old Mirabel's House. Enter OLD MIRABEL and DUGARD. Dug. The lady abbess is my relation, and privy to the plot. Old Mir. Ay, ay, this nunnery will bring him about, I warrant ye. Enter DUREtete. Dur. Here, where are ye all? O, Mr. Mirabel! you have done fine things for your posterity. And you, Mr. Dugard, may come to answer this; I come to demand my friend at your hands; restore him, sir, or-(To Old Mirabel.) Old Mir. Restore him! what, d'ye think I have got him in my trunk, or my pocket? Dur. Sir, he's mad, and you are the cause on't. Old Mir. That may be; for I was as mad as he when I begot him. Dug. Mad, sir! What d'ye mean? Dur. What do you mean, sir, by shutting up your sister, yonder, to talk like a parrot through a cage, or a decoy-duck, to draw others into the snare? Your son, sir, because she has deserted him, he has forsaken the world; and in three words, has Old Mir. Hanged himself! Dur. The very same-turned friar! Old Mir. You lie, sir! 'tis ten times worse. Bob turned friar!-Why should the fellow shave his foolish crown, when the same razor may cut his throat? Dur. If you have any command, or you any interest over him, lose not a minute: he has thrown himself into the next monastery, and has ordered me to pay off his servants, and discharge his equipage. Old Mir. Let me alone to ferret him out; I'll sacrifice the abbot if he receives him; I'll try whether the spiritual or the natural father has the most right to the child. But, dear Captain, what has he done with his estate? Dur. Settled it upon the church, sir. Old Mir. The church! Nay, then the devil won't get him out of their clutches-Ten thousand livres a year upon the church! 'Tis downright sacrilege. Come, gentlemen, all hands to work; for half that sum, one of these monasteries shall protect you a traitor from the law, a rebellious wife from her husband, and a disobedient son from his own father. [Exit. Dug. But will ye persuade me that he's gone to a monastery? Dur. Is your sister gone to the Filles Repenties? I tell you, sir, she's not fit for the society of repenting maids. . Dug. Why so, sir? Dur. Because she's neither one nor t'other; she's too old to be a maid, and too young to repent. [Exit; Dugard after him. SCENE II.-The Inside of a monastery. Enter ORIANA, in a nun's habit, and BISARRE. Oriana. I hope, Bisarre, there is no harm in jesting with this religious habit. Bis. To me, the greatest jest in the habit, is taking it in earnest. Oriana. But I'm reconciled, methinks, to the mortification of a nunnery; because I fancy the habit becomes me. Bis. A well-contrived mortification, truly, that makes a woman look ten times handsomer than she did before. Ay, my dear, were there any religion in becoming dress, our sex's devotion were rightly placed; for our toilets would do the work of the altar; we should all be canonized. Oriana. But don't you think there is a great Ideal of merit in dedicating a beautiful face and person to the service of religion? Bis. Not half so much as devoting them to a pretty fellow. Come, come, mind your business. Mirabel loves you, 'tis now plain, and hold him to't give fresh orders that he sha'n't see you. We get more by hiding our faces, sometimes, than by exposing them: a very mask, you see, whets desire; but a pair of keen eyes, through an iron grate, fire double upon them, with view and disguise. But I must begone upon my affairs; I have brought my captain about again. Oriana. But why will you trouble yourself with that coxcomb? Bis. Because he is a coxcomb. Had I not better have a lover like him, that I can make an ass of, than a lover like your's, to make a fool of me. (Knocking below.) A message from Mirabel, I'll lay my life! (She runs to the door.) Come hither! run, thou charming nun! come hither. Oriana. What's the news? (Runs to her.) Bis. Ah! thou poor blind Cupid. A friar! Don't you see a villanous genteel mien, under that cloak of hypocrisy? Oriana. As I live, Mirabel turned friar! I hope, in heaven he's not in earnest. Bis. In earnest! Ha, ha, ha! Are you in earnest? Remember what I say, if you would yield to advantage, and hold out the attack-to draw him on, keep him off, to be sure. The cunning gamesters never gain too fast; Enter YOUNG MIRABEL, in a friar's habit. Y. Mir. 'Save you, sister! Your brother, young lady, having a regard for your soul's health, has sent me to prepare you for the sacred habit, by confession. Oriana. My brother's care I own; and to you, sacred sir, I confess, that the great crying sin, which have long indulged, and now prepare to expiate, was love: my morning thoughts, my evening prayers, my daily musings, nightly cares, was love! Y. Mir. She's downright stark mad in earnest. Death and confusion! I have lost her. (Aside.) You confess your fault, madam, in such moving terms, that I could almost be in love with the sin. Oriana. Take care, sir; crimes, like virtues, are their own rewards. My chief delight became my only grief: he, in whose breast I thought my heart secure, turned robber, and despoiled the treasure that he kept. Y. Mir. Perhaps that treasure he esteemed so much, that, like the miser, though afraid to use it, he reserves it safe. another's wealth, that's prodigal of his own? His Oriana. No. holy father! who can be miser in heart was open, shared to all he knew; and what, alas! must then become of mine. But the same eyes that drew this passion in, shall send it out in tears; to which now hear my vow Y. Mir. (Discovering himself.) No, my fair angel! here, on my knees, behold the criminal that vows repentance his. (Kneels.) Ah! no concern upon her! Enter OLD MIRABEL. Old Mir. Where, where's this counterfeit nun? Oriana. Madness! confusion! I'm ruined! Y. Mir. What do I hear? (Puts on his hood.) What did you say, sir? Old Mir. I say she's a counterfeit; and you may be another, for aught I know, sir: I have lost my child by these tricks, sir. Y. Mir. What tricks, sir? Old Mir. By a pretended trick, sir; a contriv ance to bring my son to reason, and it has made him stark mad: I have lost him, and a thousand pounds a year. Y. Mr. (Discovering himself.) My dear father, I'm your most humble servant. Old Mir. My dear boy! (Runs and kisses him.) Welcome, ex inferis, my dear boy! 'Tis all a trick; she's no more a nun than I am. Y. Mir. No! Old Mir. The devil a bit. Y. Mir. Then kiss me again, my dear dad, for the most happy news. And now, most venerable, holy sister! (Kneels.) Your mercy and your pardon I implore, For the offence of asking it before. Lookye, my dear, counterfeiting nun! take my advice; be a nun in good earnest. Women make the best nuns always, when they can't do otherwise. Oriana. O, sir! how unhappily have you destroyed what was so near perfection: he is the counterfeit that has deceived you. Y. Mir. Sir, your humble servant; then I'm a friar this moment. Old Mir. Was ever an old fool so bantered by a brace of young ones! Hang you both! you're both counterfeits; and my plot's spoiled, that's all. Oriana. Shame and confusion-love, anger, and disappointment-will work my brain to madness! [Takes off her habit; then exit. Y. Mir. Ay, ay, throw by the rags; they have served a turn for us both, and they shall e'en go off together. [Takes off his habit; then exit, throwing away the habit. Bis. Perhaps I— Dur. What? Bis. Perhaps I do not. I'll Dur. Ha! abused again! Death, woman, Bis. Hold, hold, sir! I do, do! Dur. Confirm it, then, by your obedience; stand there, and ogle me now, as if your heart, blood, and soul, were like to fly out at your eyes-First, the direct surprise. (She looks full upon him.) Right; next, the deux yeux par oblique. (She gives him the side glance.) Right; now depart, and languish. (She turns from him, and looks over her shoulder.) Very well; now sigh. (She sighs.) Now drop your fan on purpose. (She drops her fan.) Now take it up again. Come, now, confess your faults; are you not a proud-say after me. Bis. Proud. Dur. ImpertinentBis. Impertinent. Dur. RidiculousBis. Ridiculous. Dur. Flirt? Bis. Puppy! Dur. Zoons! Woman, don't provoke me; we are alone, and you don't know but the devil may tempt me to do you a mischief; ask my pardon immediately. Bis. I do, sir; I only mistook the word. Dur. Cry, then. Have you got e'er a handkerchief? Bis. Yes, sir. Dur. Cry, then, handsomely; cry like a queen in a tragedy. (She pretending to cry, bursts out a laughing.) Enter Two Ladies, laughing. Bis. Ha, ha, ha! Both Ladies. Ha, ha, ha! Dur. Hell broke loose upon me, and all the faries fluttered about my ears! Betrayed again? Bis. That you are, upon my word, my dear Captain; ha, ha, ha! Dur. The Lord deliver me! 1 Lady. What! is this the mighty man, with the bull-face, that comes to frighten ladies? Dur. Ah, madam, I'm the best natured fellow in the world. Bis. A man! we're mistaken; a man has mannera: the awkward creature is some tinker's trull, in a periwig. Come, ladies, let us examine him. (They lay hold on him.) Dur. Examine the devil you will! Bis. I'll lay my life, some great dairy maid in man's clothes! Dur. They will do't;-lookye, dear Christian women! pray hear me. Bis. Will you ever attempt a lady's honour again? Dur. If you please to let me get away with my honour, I'll do anything in the world. Bis. Will you persuade your friend to marry mine? Dur. O yes, to be sure. Bis. And will you do the same by me? Dur. Burn me if I do, if the coast be clear. (Runs out.) Bis. Ha, ha, ha! The visit, ladies, was critical for our diversions: we'll go make an end of our tea. [Exeunt. Enter YOUNG MIRABEL and OLD MIRABEL. Y. Mir. Your patience, sir. I tell you, I won't marry; and, though you send all the bishops in France to persuade me, I shall never believe their doctrine against their practice. You would compel me to that state, which I have heard you curse yourself, when my mother and you have battled it for a whole week together. Old Mir. Never but once, you rogue, and that was when she longed for six Flanders mares: ay, sir, then she was breeding of you, which shewed what an expensive dog I should have of you. Enter PETIT. Well, Petit, how does she now? Petit. Mad, sir, con pompos-Ay, Mr. Mirabel, you'll believe that I speak truth, now, when I confess that I have told you hitherto nothing but lies: our jesting is come to a sad earnest; she's downright distracted! Enter BISARRE. Bis. Where is this mighty victor!-The great exploit is done. O, sir, (to the old Gentleman) of you, where her young innocence expected proyour wretched ward has found a tender guardian tection, here has she found her ruin. Old Mir. Ay, the fault is mine; for I believe that rogue won't marry, for fear of begetting such another disobedient son as his father did. I have done all I can, madam, and now can do no more than run mad for company. (Cries.) Enter DUGARD, with his sword drawn. Dug. Away! Revenge! Revenge! Old Mir. Patience! Patience, sir! (Old Mirabel holds him.) Bob, draw. (Aside.) Dug. Patience! the coward's virtue, and the brave man's failing, when thus provoked-Villain! Y. Mir. Your sister's phrensy shall excuse your madness; and, to shew my concern for what she suffers, I'll bear the villain from her brother.Put up your anger with your sword; I have a heart like yours, that swells at an affront received, but melts at an injury given; and, if the lovely Oriana's grief be such a moving scene, 'twill find a part within this breast, perhaps as tender as a brother's. grief, endeavour to remove it. There, there, beDug. To prove that soft compassion for her but I am as mad as she! hold an object that's infective; I cannot view her Enter ORIANA, held by Two Maids, who put her in a chair. A sister, that my dying parents left, with their last Bis. Sir, she beckons to you, and waves us to go off: come, come, let's leave them. [Exeunt all but Young Mirabel and Oriana. Oriana. Oh, sir! words and blessing, to my care. Sister, dearest sister! (Goes to her.) [me? Old Mir. Ay, poor child, poor child, d'ye know Oriana. You! you are Amadis de Gaul, sir.Oh! oh, my heart! Were you never in love, fair lady? And do you never dream of flowers and gardens?—I dream of walking fires, and tall gigantic sights. Take heed, it comes now- -What's that? Pray stand away: I have seen that face, sure.How light my head is! Y. Mir. What piercing charms has beauty, even in madness! Oriana. I cannot; for I must be up to go to church, and I must dress me, put on my new gown, and be so fine, to meet my love. Heigho!-Will not you tell me where my heart lies buried? Y. Mir. My very soul is touched-Your hand, my fair! Oriana. How soft and gentle you feel! I'll tell you your fortune, friend." Y. Mir. How she stares upon me! Oriana. You have a flattering face; but 'tis a fine one. I warrant you have five hundred mistresses: ay, to be sure, a mistress for every guinea in his pocket-will you pray for me? I shall die to-morrow-and will you ring my passing bell? Y. Mir. Do you know me, injured creature? Oriana. No; but you shall be my intimate acquaintance-in the grave. (Weeps.) Y. Mir. Oh, tears! I must believe you; sure there's a kind of sympathy in madness; for even I, obdurate as I am, do feel my soul so tossed with storms of passion, that I could cry for help as well as she. (Wipes his eyes.) Oriana. What, have you lost your lover? No, you mock me; I'll go home and pray. Y. Mir. Stay, my fair innocence, and hear me own my love so loud, that I may call your senses to their place, restore them to their charming happy functions, and reinstate myself into your favour. Bis. Let her alone, sir; 'tis all too late: she trembles; hold her, her fits grow stronger by her talking; don't trouble her; she don't know you, sir. Old Mir. Not know him? What then? She loves to see him, for all that. Enter DURETETE. Dur. Where are you all? What the devil! Melancholy, and I here? Are ye sad, and such a ridiculous subject, such a very good jest among you as I am? Y. Mir. Away with this impertinence; this is no place for bagatelle; I have murdered my honour, destroyed a lady, and my desire of reparation is come at length too late. See there! Dur. What ails her? Y. Mir. Alas, she's mad! Dur. Mad? dost wonder at that? By this light! they're all so; they're cozening mad; they're brawling mad; they're proud mad: I just now came from a whole world of mad women, that had almost What, is she dead? Y. Mir. Dead? Heavens forbid! Dur. Heavens further it! for, till they be as cold as a key, there's no trusting them; you're never sure that a woman's in earnest, till she is nailed in her coffin. Shall I talk to her? Are you mad, mistress? Bis. What's that to you, sir? Dur. Oons, madam! are you there? Y. Mir. Away, thou wild buffoon! How poor and mean this humour now appears? His follies and my own I here disclaim; this lady's phrensy has restored my senses, and were she perfect now, as once she was, (before you all I speak it) she should be mine; and, as she is, my tears and prayers shall wed her. Dug. How happy had this declaration been some hours ago! Y. Mir. Speak, my charming angel! if your dear senses have regained their order; speak, fair, and bless me with the news. Oriana. First, let me bless the cunning of my sex, that happy counterfeited phrenzy that has restored to my poor labouring breast the dearest, best beloved of men. Y. Mir. Tune all, ye spheres, your instruments of joy, and carry round your spacious orbs the happy sound of Oriana's health; her soul, whose harmony was next to your's, is now in tune again; the counterfeiting fair has played the fool! She was so mad, to counterfeit for me; But now we both are well, and both are free. Y. Mir. As air, my dear Bedlamite! What, marry a lunatic! Lookye, my dear, you have counterfeited madness so very well this bout, that you'll be apt to play the fool all your life long. Here, gentlemen! Oriana. Monster! you won't disgrace me? Y. Mir. O' my faith, but I will! Here, come in gentlemen. A miracle! a miracle' the woman's dispossessed! the devil's vanished! Enter OLD MIRABEL and DUGARD. Old Mir. Bless us! was she possessed? Y. Mir. With the worst of demons, sir; a marriage devil! a horrid devil! Mr. Dugard, don't be surprised. I promised my endeavours to cure your sister; no mad-doctor in Christendom could have done it more effectually. Take her into your charge; and have a care she don't relapse. If she should, employ me not again, for I am no more infallible than others of the faculty; I do cure sometimes. Oriana. Your remedy, most barbarous man, will prove the greatest poison to my health; for, though my former phrensy was but counterfeit, I now shall run into a real madness. [Exit; Old Mirabel after. Y. Mir. What a dangerous precipice have I escaped! Was not I just now upon the brink of destruction? Y. Mir. Ay, ay: there's no living here with security; this house is so full of stratagem and design, that I must abroad again. Dur. With all my heart; I'll bear thee company, my lad: I'll meet you at the play; and we'll set out for Italy to-morrow morning. Y. Mir. A match; I'll go pay my compliment of leave to my father presently. Dur. I'm afraid he'll stop you. Y. Mir. What! pretend a command over me, after his settlement of a thousand pounds a year upon me! No, no; he has passed away his anthority with the conveyance; the will of the living father is chiefly obeyed for the sake of the dying one. Dependence, ev'n a father's sway secures, For, though the son rebels, the heir is your's, [Exeunt severally. ACT V. SCENE I.-The Street before the playhouse. MIRABEL and DURETETE, as coming from the play. Dur. How d'ye like this play? Y. Mir. I liked the company; the lady, the rich beauty, in the front box, had my attention. These impudent poets bring the ladies together to support them, and to kill every body else. For deaths upon the stage, the ladies cry; But ne'er mind us, that in the audience die: The poet's hero should not move their pain, But they should weep for those their eyes have slain. Dur. Hoyty, toyty! Did Phillis inspire you with all this? Y. Mir. Ten times more; the playhouse is the element of poetry, because the region of beauty; the ladies, methinks, have a more inspiring, triumphant air in the boxes than anywhere else; they sit, commanding on their thrones, with all their subject slaves about them; their best clothes, best looks, shining jewels, sparkling eyes; the treasure of the world in a ring. I could wish that my whole life long, were the first night of a new play. Dug. The fellow has quite forgot this journey: have you bespoke post-horses? Y.Mir. Grant me but three days, dear Captain; one to discover the lady, one to unfold myself, and one to make me happy; and then I'm your's to the world's end. Dur. Hast thou the impudence to promise thyself a lady of her figure and quality in so short a time? Y. Mir. Yes, sir; I have a confident address, no disagreeable person, and five hundred louis d'ors in my pocket. Dur. Five hundred Louis-d'ors! You an't mad? Y. Mir. I tell you, she's worth five thousand; one of her black, brilliant eyes, is worth a diamond as big as her head. Dur. But you have owned to me, that, abating Oriana's pretensions to marriage, you loved her passionately; then how can you wander at this rate? Y. Mir. I longed for a partridge t'other day, off the king's plate, but d'ye think, because I could not have it, I must eat nothing? Enter ORIANA, in boy's clothes, with a letter. Y. Mir. Yes, sir. Oriana. A letter from your uncle, in Picardy (Gives the letter.) 46 Y. Mir. The bearer is the son of a Protestant gentleman, who, flying for his religion, left me the charge of this youth."-A pretty boy! "He's fond of some handsome service, that may afford him opportunity of improvement: your care of him will oblige, your's.' Hast a mind to travel, child? Oriana. 'Tis my desire, sir: I should be pleased to serve a traveller in any capacity. Y. Mir. A hopeful inclination; you shall along with me into Italy, as my page. Dur. (Noise without.) Too handsome--the play's done, and some of the ladies come this way. (Lamorce without, with her train borne up by a page.) Y. Mir. Duretete, the very dear, identical she! Dur. And what then? Y.Mir. Why, 'tis she! Dur. And what then, sir? Y. Mir. Then! Why, lookye, sirrah, the first piece of service I put upon you, is to follow that lady's coach, and bring me word where she lives. (To Oriana.) Oriana. I don't know the town, sir, and am afraid of losing myself. Y. Mir. Psha! Enter LAMORCE and PAGE. Lam. Page, what's become of all my people? Page. I can't tell, madam; I can see no sign of your ladyship's coach. Lam. That fellow has got into his old pranks, and fallen drunk somewhere; none of the footmen Page. Not one, madam. [there? Lam. These servants are the plague of our lives; what shall I do? Y. Mir. By all my hopes, Fortune pimps for me! now, Duretete, for a piece of gallantry! Dur. Why, you won't, sure? Y. Mir. Won't, brute! Let not your servants' neglect, madam, put your ladyship to any inconvenience; for you can't be disappointed of an equipage, whilst mine waits below: and, would you honour the master so far, he would be proud to pay his attendance. Dur. Ay, to be sure! (Aside.) Lam. Sir, I won't presume to be troublesome, for my habitation is a great way off. Dur. Very true, madam, and he's a little engag ed; besides, madam, a hackney coach will do as well, madam. Y. Mir. Rude beast, be quiet! (To Duretete.) The farther from home, madam, the more occasion you have for a guard; pray, madamLam. Lard, sir- (He seems to press, she to decline it, in dumb show.) Dur. Ah! the devil's in his impudence! now he wheedles, she smiles; he flatters, she simpers; he swears, she believes; he's a rogue, and she's a W- in a moment. Y. Mir. Without there! my coach! Duretete, wish me joy! (Hands the lady out.). Dur. Wish you a! Here, you little Picard, go follow your master, and he'll lead you— Oriana. Whither, sir? Dur. To the Academy, child; 'tis the fashion with men of quality, to teach their pages their exercises-go." Oriana. Won't you go with him too, sir? That woman may do him some harm; I don't like her. Dur. Why, how now, Mr. Page, do you start up, to give laws of a sudden? Do you pretend to rise at court, and disapprove the pleasure of your betters? Lookye, sirrah, if ever you would rise by a great man, be sure to be with him in his little actions; and, as a step to your advancement, follow your master immediately, and make it your hope, that he goes to a bagnio. [Exit. Oriana. Heavens forbid ! of the hangman, than a coach with that woman. Dur. Now would I sooner take a cart in company What a strange antipathy have I taken against these creatures! a woman to me, is aversion upon aversion! a cheese, a cat, a breast of mutton, the squalling of children, the grinding of knives, and the snuff of a candle. SCENE II.-Lamorce's Lodgings. Enter MIRABEL and LAMorce. Lam. To convince me, sir, that your service was something more than good breeding, please to lay out an hour of your company upon my desire, as you have already upon my necessity. Y. Mir. Your desire, madam, has only prevented my request. My hours! Make them your's, madam, eleven, twelve, one, two, three, and all that belong to those happy minutes. Lam. But I must trouble you, sir, to dismiss your retinue, because an equipage at my door, at this time of night, will not be consistent with my reputation. Y. Mir. By all means, madam, all but one little boy. Here, page! Enter ORIANA. Order my coach and servants home, and do you stay; 'tis a foolish country boy, that knows nothing but innocence. |