Brisk. That's right, all's well, all 's well. More or

less.

Lady F. [Reads.]

And when at night his labour's done,

Then too, like Heaven's charioteer, the sun :

Ay, charioteer does better.

Into the dairy he descends,

And there his whipping and his driving ends;
There he's secure from danger of a bilk,

His fare is paid him, and he sets in milk.

For Susan, you know, is Thetis, and so

Brisk. Incomparable well and proper, 'egad—But I have one exception to make-Do n't you think bilk (I know it is good rhyme) but don't you think bilk and fare too like a hackney coachman ?

Lady F. I swear and vow I am afraid so-And yet our Jehu was a hackney coachman when my lord took him.

Brisk. Was he? I am answered, if Jehu was a hackney coachman-You may put that in the marginal notes, though, to prevent criticism-only mark it with a small asterism, and say-Jehu was formerly a hackney coachman.

Lady F. I will; you'll oblige me extremely to write notes to the whole poem.

2

Brisk. With all my heart and soul, and proud of the vast honour, let me perish.

Ld. F. Hee, hee, my dear, have you done! Won't you join with us? we were laughing at my Lady Whifler and Mr. Sneer.

Lady F. -Ay, my dear-Were you? Oh filthy Mr. Sneer; he's a nauseous figure, a most fulsamic fop, foh- -He spent two days together in going about Covent-Garden to suit the lining of his coach with his complexion.

Ld. F. O, silly! yet his aunt is as fond of him as if she had brought the ape into the world herself.

Brisk. Who, my Lady Toothless ;-O, she's a mortifying spectacle; she's always chewing the cud like an old ewe.

Cyn. Fye, Mr. Brisk, eringo is for her cough.

Lady F. I have seen her take them half-chewed out of her mouth to laugh, and then put them in again. -Foh!

Ld. F. Foh!

Lady F. Then she is always ready to laugh when Sneer offers to speak-and sits in expectation of his no jest, with her gums bare, and her mouth openBrisk. Like an oyster at low ebb, 'egad-Ha, ba, ha!

"Cyn. [Aside.] Well, I find there are no fools so "inconsiderable in themselves, but they can render "other people contemptible by exposing their in"firmities."

Lady F. Then that t'other great strapping ladyI cannot hit of her name; the old fat fool that paints so exorbitantly.

Brisk. I know whom you mean-But, deuce take me, I cannot hit of her name neither-Paints, d'ye say? Why, she lays it on with a trowel-Then she

has a great beard that bristles through it, and makes her look as if she were plaistered with lime and hair, let me perish.

Lady F. Oh, you made a song upon her, Mr. Brisk. Brisk. He! 'gad, so I did——My lord can sing it. Cyn. O good, my lord, let us hear it."

Brisk. 'Tis not a song neither-It is a sort of an epigram, or rather an epigrammatic sonnet; I don't know what to call it, but it is satire." Sing "it, my lord."

She, herself, makes her own faces,

And each morning wears a new one ;

Where's the wonder now?

Brisk. Short, but there is salt in it; my way of writing, 'egad.

Enter Footman.

Lady F. How now ?

Foot. Your ladyship's chair is come.
Lady F. Is nurse and the child in it?

Foot. Yes, madam.

[Exit.

Lady F. O, the dear creature! let us go see it.

Ld, F. I swear, my dear, you'll spoil that child with sending it to and again so often; this is the se venth time the chair has gone for her to-day.

Lady F. O, la! I swear it's but the sixth

-and

I han't seen her these two hours-The poor dear -I swear, my lord, you don't love poor Come, my dear Cynthia, Mr. Brisk,

creature

little Sappho

we'll go see Sappho, though my lord won't.

Cyn. I'll wait upon your ladyship.

Brisk. Pray, madam, how old is Lady Sappho?

Lady F. Three quarters, but I swear she has a world of wit, and can sing a tune already. My lord, won't you go? Won't you? What, not to see Saph? Pray, my lord, come see little Saph. I knew you could not stay. [Exeunt all but Cyn.

"Cyn. 'Tis not so hard to counterfeit joy in the << depth of affliction, as to dissemble mirth in the com

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pany of fools-Why should I call them fools? "The world thinks better of them; for these who have quality and education, wit, and fine conversation, are received and admired by the world-If not, they like and admire themselves-And why is "not that true wisdom, for it is happiness? And "for ought I know, we have misapplied the name "all this while, and mistaken the thing: since

"If happiness in self-content is plac'd,
"The wise are wretched, and fools only bless'd.

[Exit."

" I

ACT IV. SCENE I.

"Enter MELLEFONT and CYNTHIA.

Cynthia.

HEARD him loud as I came by the closet-door, "and my lady with him; but she seemed to moderate "his passion.

"Mel. Ay, Hell thank her, as gentle breezes mo"derate a fire; but I shall counter-work her spells, "and ride the witch in her own bridle.

"Cyn. It is impossible; she'll cast beyond you "still-I'll lay my life it will never be a match,

"Mel. What?

"Cyn. Between you and me.

"Mel. Why so?

Cyn. My mind gives me it won't—because we are both willing; we each of us strive to reach the goal " and hinder one another in the race. I swear it never "does well when parties are so agreed--For when people "waik hand in hand, there's neither overtaking nor meeting we hunt in couples where we both pursue "the same game, but forget one another; and 't is be cause we are so near that we don't think of coming together,

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:

"Mel. Hum, 'egad I believe there's something in it"Marriage is the game that we hunt, and while we "think that we only have it in view, I don't see but we have it in our power.