you and I have been playfellows off and on any time this seven years.

Lucy. Hold your prating!-I'm thinking what vocation I shall follow while my spouse is planting laurels in the

wars.

Bluffe. No more wars, spouse, no more wars !—while I plant laurels for my head abroad, I may find the branches sprout at home.

Heart. Bellmour, I approve thy mirth, and thank thee; and I cannot in gratitude (for I see which way thou art going) see thee fall into the same snare out of which thou hast delivered me.

Bell. I thank thee, George, for thy good intention; but there is a fatality in marriage-for I find I'm resolute.

Heart. Then good counsel will be thrown away upon you. For my part, I have once escaped, and when I wed again, may she be ugly as an old bawd.

Vain. Ill-natured as an old maid

Bell. Wanton as a young widow-
Sharp. And jealous as a barren wife.
Heart. Agreed.

Bell. Well, 'midst of these dreadful denunciations, and notwithstanding the warning and example before me, I commit myself to lasting durance.

Belin. Prisoner, make much of your fetters.

[Giving her hand. Bell. Frank, will you keep us in countenance?

Vain. May I presume to hope so great a blessing? Aram. We had better take the advantage of a little of our friends' experience first.

Bell. [Aside.] O' my conscience she dares not consent, for fear he should recant.-[Aloud.] Well, we shall have your company to church in the morning; may be it may get you an appetite to see us fall to before ye.—Setter, did not you tell me—

Set. They're at the door, I'll call 'em in.

Enter dancers: A Dance.

Bell. Now set we forward on a journey for life.—Come take your fellow-travellers.-Old George, I'm sorry to see thee still plod on alone.

Heart. With gaudy plumes and gingling bells made

proud,

The youthful beast sets forth, and neighs aloud.
A morning sun his .tinselled harness gilds,
And the first stage a down-hill green-sward yields.
But oh-

What rugged ways attend the noon of life!
Our sun declines, and with what anxious strife,
What pain we tug that galling load, a wife!
All coursers the first heat with vigour run;
But 'tis with whip and spur the race is won.

[Exeunt omnes.

EPILOGUE.

SPOKEN BY MRS. BARRY.

As a rash girl, who will all hazards run,

And be enjoyed, though sure to be undone
Soon as her curiosity is over,

Would give the world she could her toy recover;
So fares it with our poet, and I'm sent
To tell you he already does repent:

Would you were all so forward to keep Lent!
Now the deed's done, the giddy thing has leisure
To think o' th' sting that's in the tail of pleasure.

1 Elizabeth Barry, a favourite actress of the day (born 1658, 'died 1713). It is said that when Mrs. Barry, Mrs. Bracegirdle, Mrs. Mountford, and Mrs. Bowman appeared together on the stage in the last act of The Old Bachelor, the audience were so struck with a group so beautiful, that they broke out into a fervour of applause.

Methinks I hear him in consideration :

"What will the world say? where's my reputation? Now that's at stake "-No, fool, 'tis out of fashion.

If loss of that should follow want of wit,

How many undone men were in the pit!

Why, that's some comfort to an author's fears,
If he's an ass, he will be tried by's peers.
But hold-I am exceeding my commission:
My business here was humbly to petition;
But we're so used to rail on these occasions,
I could not help one trial of your patience :
For 'tis our way (you know) for fear o' th' worst,
To be beforehand still, and cry fool first.

How say you, sparks? how do you stand affected?

I swear, young Bays within is so dejected,

"Twould grieve your hearts to see him; shall I call him?
But then you cruel critics would so maul him!
Yet, may be you'll encourage a beginner;
But how? Just how the devil does a sinner.
Women and wits are used e'en much at one,

You gain your end, and damn 'em when you've done.

Interdum tamen, et vocem Comoedia tollit. -HORAT. AIS Poet.1

Syrus. Huic equidem consilio palmam do: hic me magnifice
effero,

Qui vim tantam in me, et potestatem habeam tantæ astutiæ,
Vera dicendo ut cos ambos fallam.-TERENT. Heauton."

1 Nevertheless, sometimes even comedy exalts her voice.

2 To this plan I give the palm. Here I mightily extol myself as one who has such strength, and the power of such great cunning, that I can deceive them both by speaking the truth.

HE comedy of The Double-Dealer made its first appearance at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, in 1694, and is, artistically, far superior to its predecessor, The Old Bachelor. The characters play closer, and the plot is less involved and better sustained. The brilliant dialogue is seldom forced, and rises easily and spontaneously from the action of the story. Like all Congreve's comedies, however, the progress of the play is occasionally interrupted for the sake of introducing wit and sarcasm which have little to do with the development of plot and character. Conversation takes place which, though always brilliant and amusing, has but the slightest connection with the solemn stupidity of Lord Froth, the intrigue of Lady Froth, the “niceties" of Lady Plyant, and the villainies of Maskwell. The unity of the piece is sacrificed to the dominant claims of dialogue. As is always apparent in the comedies of Congreve, the love here is sensuality, and virtue only another term for timorous or calculating vice. Nothing more plainly shows the looseness of the times than the conversation which is permitted to take place between Sir Paul Plyant and his daughter.

Upon its first representation The Double-Dealer was not a success, and it was not until Dryden taught the public its merits that it became popular.