[Exeunt.

Sir John. I'll cuckold you, with a pox! Con. Heaven! sir John, what's the matter? Sir John. Why, these two gentlewomen did but hear me say I expected you here this afterI noon; upon which, they presently resolved to take up the room, o' purpose to plague me and my friends.

Con. Was that all? Why, we should have been glad of their company.

Sir John. Then I should have been weary of yours; for I can't relish both together. They found fault with my smoking tobacco, too; and said men stunk. But I have a good mind-to say something.

Can. No, nothing against the ladies, pray.

Sir John. Split the ladies! Come, will you sit down? Give us some wine, fellow. You won't smoke?

Con. No, nor drink neither, at this time; I must ask your pardon.

Sir John. What, this mistress of yours runs in your head! I'll warrant it's some such squeamish minx as my wife, that's grown so dainty of late, she finds fault even with a dirty shirt.

Heart. That a woman may do, and not be very dainty neither.

Sir John. Pox of the women! let's drink.Come, you shall take one glass, though I send for a box of lozenges to sweeten your mouth after it.

Con. Nay, if one glass will satisfy you, I'll drink it, without putting you to that expence. Sir John. Why, that's honest. Fill some wine, sirrah: so here's to you, gentlemen-a wife's the devil. To your being both married.

[They drink.

Heart. O, your most humble servant, sir. Sir John. Well, how do you like my wine? Con. 'Tis very good, indeed.

Heart. 'Tis admirable.

Sir John. Then give us t'other glass. Con. No, pray excuse us now: we'll come another time, and then we won't spare it.

Sir John. This one glass, and no more. Come, it shall be your mistress's health: and that's a great compliment from me, I assure you.

Con. And 'tis a very obliging one to me: so give us the glasses.

Sir John. So; let her live. [SIR JOHN coughs in the glass.]

Heart. And be kind.

Con. What's the matter? does it go the wrong way?

Sir John. If I had love enough to be jealous, I should take this for an ill omen: for I never drank my wife's health in my life, but I puked in the glass.

Con. Oh, she's too virtuous to make any reasonable man jealous.

Sir John. Pox of her virtue! If I could but catch her adulterating, I might be divorced from her by law.

Heart. And so pay her a yearly pension, to be a distinguished cuckold.

Enter Servant.

Ser. Sir, there's my lord Rake, colonel Bully, and some other gentlemen, at the Blue Posts, desire your company.

Sir John. Cod's so, we are to consult about playing the devil to-night.

Heart. Well, we won't hinder business.

Sir John. Methinks, I don't know how to leave you two: but, for once, I must make bold. Or look you; may be the conference may'nt last long so, if you'll wait here half an hour, or an hour; if I don't come then-why then-I won't come at all.

Heart. [To CONSTANT.] A good modest proposition, truly! [Aside, Con. But let's accept on't, however. Who knows what may happen?

Heart. Well, sir, to shew you how fond we are of your company, we'll expect your return as long as we can.

Sir John. Nay, may be I may'nt stay at all; but business, you know, must be done. So, your servant- -or, hark you, if you have a mind to take a frisk with us, I have an interest with my lord; I can easily introduce you.

Con. We are much beholden to you; but, for my part, I am engaged another way.

Sir John. What! to your mistress, I'll warrant. Prithee, leave your nasty punk to entertain herself with her own lewd thoughts, and make one with us to-night.

Con. Sir, 'tis business that is to employ me. Heart. And me; and business must be done, you know.

Sir John. Aye, women's business, though the world were consumed for it.

Con. Oh, ne'er hope it: invention will prove as vain as wishes.

Enter LADY BRUTE and BELINDA.

Heart. What do you think now, friend?
Con. I think I shall swoon.

Heart, I'll speak first, then, whilst you fetch breath.

Lady Brute. We think ourselves obliged, gentlemen, to come and return you thanks for your knight errantry. We were just upon being deyoured by the fiery dragon.

Bel. Did not his fumes almost knock you down, gentlemen?

Heart. Truly, ladies, we did undergo some hardships; and should have done more, if some greater heroes than ourselves, hard by, had not diverted him.

Con. Though I am glad of the service you are pleased to say we have done you, yet I am sorry we could do it in no other way, than by making ourselves privy to what you would, perhaps, have kept a secret.

Lady Brute. For sir John's part, I suppose he designed it no secret, since he made so much noise. And, for myself, truly, I am not much concerned, since 'tis fallen only into this gentleman's hands and yours; who, I have many reasons to believe, will neither interpret nor report any thing to my disadvantage.

Con. Your good opinion, madam, was what I feared I never could have merited.

Lady Brute. Your fears were vain then, sir; for I'm just to every body.

Heart. Prithee, Constant, what is't you do to get the ladies' good opinions; for I'm a novice at it?

Bel. Sir, will you give me leave to instruct you?

Heart. Yes, that I will, with all my soul, madam.

Bel. Why, then, you must never be slovenly; never be out of humour, never smoke tobacco, nor drink but when you are dry.

Lady Brute. But was you never in love, sir?
Heart. No, I thank Heaven, madam.
Bel. Pray, where got you your learning, then?
Heart. From other people's expence.

Bel. That's being a spunger, sir, which is scarce honest: If you'd buy some experience with your own money, as 'twould be fairlier got, so 'twould stick longer by you.

Enter FOOTMAN,

Foot. Madam, here's my lady Fancyful, to wait upon your ladyship.

Lady Brute, Shield me, kind Heaven! What an inundation of impertinence is here coming upon us!

Enter LADY FANCYFUL, who runs first to LADY BRUTE, then to BELINDA, kissing them. Lady Fan. My dear lady Brute, and sweet Belinda, methinks, 'tis an age since I saw you! Lady Brute. Yet 'tis but three days; sure you have passed your time very ill, it seems so long to you.

Lady Fan. Why, really, to confess the truth to you, I am so everlastingly fatigued with the addresses of unfortunate gentlemen, that, were it not for the extravagancy of the example, I should e'en tear out these wicked eyes with my own fingers, to make both myself and mankind easy. What think you on't, Mr Heartfree, for I take you to be my faithful adviser?

Heart. Why, truly, madam--I think-every project, that is for the good of mankind, ought to be encouraged.

Lady Fan. Then I have your consent, sir? Heart. To do whatever you please, madam. Lady Fan. You had a much more limited com plaisance this morning, sir. Would you believe it, ladies? The gentleman has been so exceeding generous, to tell me of above fifty faults, in less time than it was well possible for me to commit two of them.

Con. Why, truly, madam, my friend there is apt to be something familiar with the ladies.

Lady Fan. He is indeed, sir; but, he's wondrous charitable with it: He has had the goodness to design a reformation, even down to my fingers ends.Twas thus, I think, sir, [Opening her fingers in an awkward manner.] you'd have them stand- -My eyes, too, he did not like: How was't you would have directed them? Thus, I think. [Staring at him.]—Then there was something amiss in my gaite, too: I don't know well how 'twas, but, as I take it, he would have me walk like him. Pray, sir, do me the favour to take a turn or two about the room, that the company may see you-He's sullen, ladies, and won't. But, to make short, and give you as true an idea as I can of the matter, I think 'twas much about this figure in general, he would have moulded me to; but I was an obstinate woman,

and could not resolve to make myself mistress of his heart, by growing as awkward as his fancy. [She walks awkwardly about, staring and looking ungainly; then changes, on a sudden, to the extremity of her usual affectation.]

Heart. Just thus women do, when they think we are in love with them, or when they are so with us.

[Here CONSTANT and LADY BRUTE talk together apart. Lady Fan. Twould, however, be less vanity for me to conclude the former, than you the latter, sir.

Heart. Madam, all I shall presume to conclude, is, that, if I were in love, you'd find the means to make me soon weary on't.

Lady Fan. Not by over-fondness, upon my word, sir. But, pray, let's stop here; for you are so much governed by instinct, I know you'll grow brutish at last.

Bel. [Aside.] Now am I sure she's fond of him: I'll try to make her jealous. Well, for my part, I should be glad to find some-body would be so free with me, that I might know my faults, and mend them.

Lady Fan. Then, pray let me recommend this gentleman to you: I have known him some time, and will be surety for him, that, upon a very li mited encouragement on your side, you shall find an extended impudence on his.

Heart. I thank you, madam, for your recommendation: But hating idleness, I'm unwilling to enter into a place, where I believe there would be nothing to do. I was fond of serving your ladyship, because I knew you'd find me constant employment.

Lady Fan. I told you he'd be rude, Belinda. Bel. O, a little bluntness is a sign of honesty, which makes me always ready to pardon it. So, sir, if you have no other exceptions to my service, but the fear of being idle in it, you may venture to list yourself: I shall find you work, I

warrant you.

Heart. Upon those terms I engage, Madam; and this, with your leave, I take for earnest. [Offering to kiss her hand.

Bel. Hold there, sir; I'm none of your earnest givers. But, if I'm well served, I give good wages, and pay punctually.

[HEARTFREE and BELINDA seem to continue talking familiarly.

Lady Fan. Aside.] I don't like this jesting between them-Methinks the fool begins to look, as if he were in earnest-but then he must be a fool indeed.-Lard, what a difference there is between me and her! [Looking at BELINDA scornfully. How I should despise such a thing, if I were a man!-What a nose she has-What a chin-What a neck-Then her eyes-And the worst kissing lips in the universe-No, no, he can never like her, that's positive-Yet I can't

do

suffer them together any longer. Mr Heart free, you know, that you and I must have no quarrel for all this? I can't forbear being a little severe now and then: But women, you know, may be allowed any thing.

Heart. Up to a certain age, madam,

Lady Fan. Which I'm not yet past, I hope. Heart. [Aside.] Nor ever will, I dare swear. Lady Fan. [To LADY BRUTE.] Come, madam, will your ladyship be witness to our reconciliation ?

Lady Brute. You, agree, then at last?
Heart. [Slightingly. We forgive.

Lady Fan. [Aside.] That was a cold, ill-natured reply.

Lady Brute. Then there's no challenges sent between you?

Heart. Not from me, I promise. [Aside to CONSTANT.] But that's more than I'll do for her; for I know she can as well be damned as forbear writing to me.

Con. That I believe. But I think we had best be going, lest she should suspect something, and be malicious.

Heart. With all my heart.

Con. Ladies, we are your humble servants. I see sir John is quite engaged, 'twould be in vain to expect him. Come, Heartfree. [Exit CONSTANT,

Heart. Ladies, your servant. [To BELINDA.] I hope, madam, you won't forget our bargain; I'm to say what I please to you.

[Erit HEARTFREE. Bel. Liberty of speech, entire, sir. Lady Fan. [Aside.] Very pretty, truly——But how the blockhead went out languishing at her; and not a look toward me-Well, people may talk, but miracles are not ceased. For it is more than natural, such a rude fellow as he, and such a little impertinent as she, should be capable of making a woman of my sphere uneasy. But I can bear her sight no longer-methinks she's grown ten times uglier than Cornet. I must home, and study revenge. [To LADY BRUTE.] Madam, your humble servant; I must take my leave.

Lady Brute. What, going already, madam?

Lady Fan. I must beg you'll excuse me this once; for really I have eighteen visits to return this afternoon: So you see I'm importuned by the women as well as the men.

Bel. [Aside.] And she's quits with them both. Lady Fan. [Going.] Nay, you shan't go one step out of the room.

Lady Brute. Indeed, I'll wait upon you down. Lady Fun. No, sweet lady Brute, you know I swoon at ceremony.

Lady Brute. Pray give me leave.
Lady Fan. You know I won't.
Lady Brute. Indeed I must.
Lady Fan. Indeed you shan't.
Lady Brute. Indeed I will.
Lady Fan. Indeed you shan't,

Lady Brute. Indeed I will. Lady Fan. Indeed you shan't. Indeed, indeed, indeed, you shan't. [Erit LADY FANCYFUL, running; they follow.

Re-enter LADY BRUTE.

Lady Brute. This impertinent woman has put me out of humour for a fortnight-What an agreeable moment has her foolish visit interrupted! Lord, what a pleasure there is in doing what we should not do!

Re-enter CONSTANT.

Ha! here again?

Con. Though the renewing my visit may seem a little irregular, I hope I shall obtain your pardon for it, madam, when you know I only left the room, lest the lady, who was here, should have been as malicious in her remarks, as she is foolish in her conduct.

Lady Brute. He, who has discretion enough to be tender of a woman's reputation, carries a virtue about him, that may atone for a great many faults.

Con. If it has a title to atone for any, its pretensions must needs be strongest, where the crime is love. I therefore hope I shall be forgiven the attempt I have made upon your heart, since my enterprize has been a secret to all the world but yourself.

Lady Brute. Secrecy, indeed, in sins of this kind, is an argument of weight to lessen the punishment; but nothing's a plea, for a pardon entire, without a sincere repentance.

Con. I'm sorry for it.

Lady Brute. I'm sorry to hear you say so. Con. Pray, why?

Lady Brute. Because, if you expected more from it, you have a worse opinion of my understanding than I desire you should have.

Con. [Aside.] I comprehend her: She would have me set a value upon her chastity, that I might think myself the more obliged to her, when she makes me a present of it.--[ To her.] I beg you will believe I did but rally, madam; I know you judge too well of right and wrong, to be deceived by arguments like those. I hope you will have so favourable an opinion of my understanding, too, to believe the thing called virtue has worth enough with me, to pass for an eternal obligation, wherever it is sacrificed.

Lady Brute. It is, I think, so great a one, as nothing can repay.

Con. Yes; the making the man you love your everlasting debtor.

Lady Brute. When debtors once have borrowed all we have to lend, they are very apt to grow shy of their creditor's company.

Con. That, madam, is only when they are forced to borrow of usurers, and not of a generous friend. Let us chuse our creditors, and we are seldom so ungrateful as to shun them.

Lady Brute. What think you of sir John, sir? I was his free choice.

Con. I think he is married, madam. Lady Brute. Does marriage, then, exclude men from your rule of constancy?

Lady Brute. Tis an offence, a great one, where it would rob a woman of all she ought to be adored for, her virtue.

Con. Virtue! Virtue, alas! is no more like the thing that's called so, than 'tis like vice itself.

Lady Brute. If it be a thing of so very little value, why do you so earnestly recommend it to your wives and daughters?

Con. We recommend it to our wives, madam, because we would keep them to ourselves; and to our daughters, because we would dispose of them to others.

Lady Brute. It is, then, of some importance, it seems, since you can't dispose of them without it.

Con. That importance, madam, lies in the humour of the country, not in the nature of the thing. Pray, what does your ladyship think of a powdered coat for deep mourning?

Lady Brute. I think, sir, your sophistry has all the effect, that you can reasonably expect it should have; it puzzles, but don't convince.

Con. Yes, I would, after all, be an exception to it myself, if you were free in power and will to make me so.

Lady Brute. Compliments are well placed, where it is impossible to lay hold on them.

Con. I would to Heaven it were possible for you to lay hold on mine, that you might see it is no compliment at all. But since you are already disposed of, beyond redemption, to one who does not know the value of the jewel you have put into his hands, I hope you would not think him greatly wronged, though it should sometimes be looked on by a friend, who knows how to esteem it as he ought.

Lady Brute. If looking on it alone would serve his turn, the wrong, perhaps, might not be very

great.

Con. Why, what if he should wear it now and then a day, so he gave good security to bring it home again at night?

Lady Brute. Small security, I fancy, might serve for that. One might venture to take his word.

Con, Then, where's the injury to the owner?

it one.

unhappiness must be so, too.

Con. Here I close with you, madam, and draw my conclusive argument from your own position: If the injury lie in the fancy, there needs nothing but secrecy to prevent the wrong.

Lady Brute. [Going.] A surer way to prevent it, is to hear no more arguments in its behalf. Con. [Following her.] But, madain— Lady Brute. But, sir, it is my turn to be discreet now, and not suffer too long a visit.

Con. [Catching her hand.] By Heaven! you shall not stir, till you give me hopes, that I shall see you again at some more convenient time and place.

Lady Brute. I give you just hopes enough [Breaking from him.] to get loose from you; and that's all I can afford you at this time. [Exit running. Con. Now, by all that's great and good, she is a charming woman! In what ecstacy of joy has she left me! For she gave me hope, did she not say she gave me hope? Hope! Ay; what hope -enough to make me let her go-Why, that's enough, in conscience. Or, no matter how it was spoke-Hope was the word; it came from her, and it was said to me.

Enter HEARTFREE.

Ha, Heartfree! Thou hast done me noble service, in prattling to the young gentlewoman without there: Come to my arms, thou venerable bawd, and let me squeeze thee, [Embracing him eagerly.] as a new pair of stays does a fat country girl, when she is carried to court to stand for a maid of honour.

Heart. Why, what the devil is all this rapture for?

Con. Rapture! There is ground for rapture, man; there is hopes, my Heartfree; hopes, my friend!

Heart. Hopes! of what?

Con. Why, hopes that my lady and I together (for it is more than one body's work) should make sir John a cuckold.

Heart. Prithee, what did she say to thee? Con. Say! What did she not say? She said, that says she-she said-Zoons, I don't know what she said; but she looked as if she said every thing I'd have her; and so, if thou wilt go to the tavern, I'll treat you with any thing, that gold can buy; I'll give all my silver amongst the drawers, make a bonfire before the door; say the plenipo's have signed the peace, and the bank of England's grown honest. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.

science. All. Huzza!

Sir John. I would not give a fig for a song that is not full of sin and impudence.

Lord Rake. Then my muse is to your taste. But drink away; the night steals upon us; we shall want time to be lewd in. Hey, page, sally out, sirrah, and see what's doing in the camp; we'll beat up their quarters presently.

Page. I'll bring your lordship an exact ac count. [Exit Page. Lord Rake. Now let the spirit of Clary go round. Here's to our forlorn hope. Courage, knight, victory attends you.

Sir John. And laurels shall crown me-Drink away, and be damned.

Lord Rake. Again, boys; t'other glass, and damn morality.

Sir John. [drunk.] Ay-damn morality-and damn the watch. And let the constable be married.

All. Huzza!

Re-enter Page.

Lord Rake. How are the the streets inhabited, sirrah?

Page. My lord, 'tis sunday-night, they are full of drunken citizens.

Lord Rake. Along, then, boys! we shall have a feast.

Col. Bully. Along, noble knight.

Sir John. Ay-along, Bully; and he that says sir John Brute is not as drunk, and as religious as the drunkennest citizen of them all—is a liar, and the son of a whore.

Col. Bully. Why, that was bravely spoke, and like a free-born Englishman.

Sir John. What's that to you, sir, whether I am an Englishman or a Frenchman?

Col. Bully. Zoons, you are not angry, sir? Sir John. Zoons, I am angry, sir—for if I'm a freeborn Englishman, what have you to do, even to talk of my privileges?

Lord Rake. Why, prithee, knight, don't quarrel here; leave private animosities to be decided by day-light; let the night be employed against the public enemy.

Sir John. My lord, I respect you, because you are a man of quality. But I'll make that fellow know I am within a hair's breadth as absolute by my privileges, as the king of France is by his prerogative. He, by his prerogative, takes money,