Brisk. Ay, my Lord, it's a sign I hit you in the teeth, if you shew 'em.

Ld. F. He, he, he, I swear that's so very pretty, I can't forbear.

“ Care. I find a quibble bears more sway in your "lordship's face than a jest.”

Ld. T. Sir Paul, if you please we'll retire to the ladies, and drink a dish of tea to settle our heads.

Sir P. With all my heart. Mr. Brisk, you'll come to us or call me when you joke—I'll be ready to laugh incontinently. [Exeunt Ld. T. and Sir Paul. Mel. But does your Lordship never see comedies? Ld. F. O yes, sometimes, but I never laugh. Mel. No?

Ld. F. Oh, no, never laugh indeed, sir.
Care. No! Why what d'ye go there for?

Ld. F. To distinguish myself from the commonalty, and mortify the poets;--the fellows grow so conceited when any of their foolish wit prevails upon the side-boxes.-I swear-he, he, he, I have often constrained my inclinations to laugh- -he, he, he, to avoid giving them encouragement.

Mel. You are cruel to yourself, my lord, as well as malicious to them.

Ld F. I confess I did myself some violence at first, but now I think I have conquered it.

Brisk. Let me perish, my lord, but there is something very particular in the humour; 't is true, it makes against wit, and I'm sorry for some friends of mine that write, but 'egad I love to be malicious.

Nay, deuce take me, there's wit in 't too--and wit must be foiled by wit; cut a diamond with a diamond, no other way, 'egad.

Ld. F. Oh, I thought you would not be long before you found out the wit.

Care. Wit! in what? Where the devil's the wit in not laughing when a man has a mind to,'t?

Brisk. O lord, why, can't you find it out ?-Why, there 'tis in the not laughing-Don't you apprehend me?My lord, Careless is a very honest fellow, but hark ye-you understand me, somewhat heavy, a little shallow or so. Why, I'll tell you now, suppose now you came up to me-nay, pr'ythee, Careless, be instructed. Suppose, as I was saying, you come up to me holding your sides, and laughing as if you would-well-I look grave, and ask the cause of this immoderate mirth-you laugh on still, and are not able to tell me—still I look grave, not so much as smile.

Care. Smile, no, what the devil should you smile at, when you suppose I can't tell you?

Brisk. Pshaw, pshaw, pr'ythee don't interrupt me. But I tell you, you shall tell me-at last-but it shall be a great while first.

Care. Well; but pry'thee don't let it be a great while, because I long to have it over.

Brisk. Well then, you tell me some good jest, or very witty thing, laughing all the while as if you were ready to die and I hear it, and look thus

Would not you be disappointed?

Care. No; for if it were a witty thing, I should not expect you to understand it.

Ld. F. O foy, Mr. Careless, all the world allows Mr. Brisk to have wit; my wife says he has a great deal. I hope you think her a judge.

Brisk. Pooh, my lord, his voice goes for nothing.I can't tell how to make him apprehend.-Take it t'other way. Suppose I say a witty thing to you? Care. Then I shall be disappointed indeed.

Mel. Let him alone, Brisk, he is obstinately bent not to be instructed.

Brisk. I'm sorry for him, the deuce take me.

Mel. Shall we go to the ladies, my lord ?

Ld. F. With all my heart

a solitude without them.

-methinks we are

Mel. Or, what say you to another bottle of champagne ?

Ld. F. O, for the universe, not a drop more, I beseech you. Oh, intemperate! I have a flushing in my face already.

[Takes out a pocket glass, and locks in it. Brisk. Let me see, let me see, my lord, I broke my glass that was in the lid of my snuff-box. Hum! deuce take me, I have encouraged a pimple here too.

[Takes the glass and looks. Ld. F. Then you must mortify him with a patch: my wife shall supply you. Come, gentlemen, allons,

here is company coming.

[Exeunt.

Enter Lady TOUCHWOOD and MASKWELL.

-L. T. I'll hear no more

-y' are false and un

grateful; come, I know you false.

Mask. I have been frail I confess, madam, for your ladyship's service.

L. T. That I should trust a man whom I had known betray his friend!

Mask. What friend have I betrayed; or to whom? L. T. Your fond friend Mellefont, and to me

Can you deny it ?

Mask. I do not.

L. T. Have you not wronged my lord, who has been a father to you in your wants, and given you being? Have you not wronged him in the highest manner, in his bed?

Mask. With your ladyship's help, and for your service, as I told you before. I cannot deny that neither. Any thing more, madam?

L. T. More! audacious villain. Oh, what's more is most my shame-Have you not dishonoured me? Mask. No, that I deny; for I never told in all my life; so that accusation's answered.-On to the next.

L. T. Death, do you dally with my passion? Insolent devil! But have a care-——provoke me not; for, by the eternal fire, you shall not escape my vengeance. Calm villain how unconcerned he stands, confessing treachery and ingratitude! Is there a vice more black!

-Oh, I have excuses, thousands, for my faults; fire in my temper, passions in my soul, apt to every

provocation; oppressed at once with love and with despair: but a sedate, a thinking villain, whose black blood runs temperately bad, what excuse can clear?

Mask. Will you be in temper, madam? I would not talk not to be heard. I have been [She walks about disordered.] a very great rogue for your sake, and you reproach me with it; I am ready to be a rogue still, to do you service; and you are flinging conscience and honour in my face, to rebate my inclinations. How am I to behave myself? You know I am your creature, my life and fortune in your power; to disoblige you brings me certain ruin. Allow it, I would betray you, I would not be a traitor to myself: I do not pretend to honesty, because you know I am a rascal: but I would convince you from the necessity of my being firm to you.

L. T. Necessity, impudence! Can no gratitude incline you, no obligations touch you?" Have not my "fortune and my person been subjected to your plea"sure?" Were you not in the nature of a servant, and have I not in effect made you lord of all, of me, and of my lord? Where is that humble love, the languishing, that adoration, which once was paid me, and everlastingly engaged?

Mask. Fixed, rooted in my heart, whence nothing can remove them, yet you

L. T. Yet, what yet?

Mask. Nay, misconceive me not, madam, when I say I have had a generous and a faithful passion, which you had never favoured but through revenge and policy.