own disposal, and before you had by your insinuations wheedled her out of a pretended settlement of the greatest part of her fortuneFain. Sir! pretended!

Mira. Yes, sir, I say that this lady, while a widow, having, it seems, received some cautions respecting your inconstancy and tyranny of temper, which, from her own partial opinion and fondness of you she could never have suspected -She did, I say, by the wholesome advice of friends, and of sages learned in the laws of this land, deliver this same as her act and deed to me in trust, and to the uses within mentioned. You may read if you please-[Holding out the purchment]-though perhaps what is written on the back may serve your occasions.

Fain. Very likely, sir. What's here? Damnation! [Reads.] "A deed of conveyance of the whole estate real of Arabella Languish, widow, in trust, to Edward Mirabell."-Confusion!

Mira. Even so, sir: 'tis "The Way of the World," sir; of the widows of the world. I sup-❘ pose this deed may bear an elder date than what you have obtained from your lady.

Fain. Perfidious fiend! then thus I'll be revenged- [Offers to run at Mrs FAINALL. Sir Wil. Hold, sir; now you may make your Bear-garden flourish somewhere else, sir, Fain. Mirabell, you shall hear of this, sir, be sure you shall.-Let me pass, oaf.

[Exit.

Mrs Fain. Madam, you seem to stifle your resentment: you had better give it vent.

Mrs Mar. Yes, it shall have vent—and to your confusion, or I'll perish in the attempt.

[Exit.

L. Wish. O, daughter, daughter! 'tis plain thou hast inherited thy mother's prudence.

Mrs Fain. Thank Mr Mirabell, a cautious friend, to whose advice all is owing.

L. Wish. Well, Mr Mirabell, you have kept your promise-and I must perform mine.-First, pardon for your sake Sir Rowland there and Foible. The next thing is to break the matter to my nephew-and how to do that

Mira. For that, madam, give yourself no trouble-let me have your consent—— -Sir Wilfull is my friend; he has had compassion upon lovers, and generously engaged a volunteer in this action, for our service, and now designs to prosecute his travels.

Sir Wil. 'Sheart, aunt, I have no mind to mar

ry.-My cousin's a fine lady, and the gentleman loves her, and she loves him, and they deserve one another; my resolution is to see foreign parts-I have set on't-and when I'm set on't, I must do't. And if these two gentlemen would travel too, they might be spared.

Pet. For my part, I say little-I think things are best off or on.

Wait. 'Egad, I understand nothing of the matter.-I'm in a maze yet, like a dog in a dancingschool.

L. Wish. Well, sir, take her, and with her all the joy I can give you.

Mill. Why does not the man take me? Would you have me give myself to you over again?

Mira. Ay, and over and over again; [Kisses her hand;] I would have you as often as possibly I can. Well, Heaven grant I love you not too well, that's all my fear.

Sir Wil. 'Sheart, you'll have time enough to toy after you're married; or if you will toy now, let us have a dance in the mean time, that we who are not lovers may have some other employment, besides looking on.

Mira. With all my heart, dear Sir Wilfull.What shall we do for music?

Foi. O, sir, some that were provided for Sir Rowland's entertainment are yet within call.

Miru. Madam, disquiet not yourself on that account; to my knowledge his circumstances are such, he must of force comply. For my part, I will contribute all that in me lies to a re-union: in the mean time, madam, [To Mrs FAINALL,] let me, before these witnesses, restore to you this deed of trust; it may be a means, well managed, to make you live easily together.

From hence let those be warned who mean to wed,

Lest mutual falsehood stain the bridal bed;
For each deceiver to his cost may find,
That marriage frauds too oft are paid in kind.
[Exeunt omnes.

AFTER our epilogue this crowd dismisses,
I'm thinking how this play'll be pulled to pieces.
But pray consider, ere you doom its fall,
How hard a thing 'twould be to please you all.

There are some critics so with spleen diseased, They scarcely come inclining to be pleased: And sure he must have more than mortal skill, Who pleases any one against his will.

Then all bad poets, we are sure, are foes,
And how their number's swelled, the town well
knows;

In shoals I've marked 'em judging in the pit,
Though they're on no pretence for judgment fit,
But that they have been damned for want of wit;
Since when, they, by their own offences taught,
Set up for spies on plays, and finding fault.
Others there are whose malice we'd prevent;
Such, who watch plays with scurrilous intent
To mark out who by characters are meant:
And though no perfect likeness they can trace,
Yet each pretends to know the copied face.
These with false glosses feed their own ill na-
ture,

And turn to libel what was meant a satire.

May such malicious fops this fortune find,
To think themselves alone the fools designed;
If any are so arrogantly vain,

To think they singly can support a scene,
And furnish fool enough to entertain!
For well the learned and the judicious know,
That satire scorns to stoop so meanly low,
As any one abstracted fop to show;
For, as, when painters form a matchless face,
They from each fair one catch some different
grace,

And shining features in one portrait blend,
To which no single beauty must pretend;
So poets oft do in one piece expose

Whole belles assemblies of coquettes and beaux,

L. Brute. Alas, my dear, I have no secrets. My heart could ne'er yet confine my tongue. Bel. Your eyes, you mean, for I am sure I have seen them gadding, when your tongue has been | locked up safe enough.

L. Brute. My eyes gadding! Pr'ythee after who, child?

Bel. Why, after one that thinks you hate him, as much as I know you love him.

L. Brute. Constant, you mean.
Bel. I do so.

L. Brute. Lord, what should put such a thing into your head ?

Bel. That which puts things into most people's heads,observation.

L. Brute. Why, what have you observed, in the name of wonder?

Bel. I have observed you blush when you met him; force yourself away from him; and then be out of humour with every thing about you: in a word, never was a poor creature so spurr'd on by desire, or so reined in with fear.

L. Brute. How strong is fancy!
Bel. How weak is woman!

L. Brute. Pr'ythee, niece, have a better opinion of your aunt's inclination.

Bel. Dear aunt, have a better opinion of your niece's understanding.

L. Brute. You'll make me angry.

Bel. You'll make me laugh.

L. Brute. Then you are resolved to persist?
Bel. Positively.

L. Brute. And all I can say

Bel. Will signify nothing.

L. Brute. Though I should swear it were false

Bel. I should think it truc.

L. Brute. Then let us forgive, [Kissing her,] for we have both offended: I, in making a secret; you, in discovering it.

Bel. Good nature may do much ; but you have more reason to forgive one, than I have to pardon t'other.

L. Brute. 'Tis true, Belinda, you have given me so many proofs of your friendship, that my reserve has been, indeed, a crime; but that you may more easily forgive me, remember, child, that when our nature prompts us to a thing our honour and religion forbid us, we would (were it possible) conceal, even from the soul itself, the knowledge of the body's weakness.

Bel. Well, I hope, to make your friend amends, you'll hide nothing from her for the future, though the body should still grow weaker and weaker.

L. Brute. No, from this moment I have no more reserve; and as proof of my repentance, I own, Belinda, I am in danger. Merit and wit assault me from without, nature and love solicit me within; my husband's barbarous usage piques

|

me to revenge; and Satan, catching the fair occasion, throws in my way that vengeance, which of all vengeance pleases women best.

Bel. 'Tis well Constant don't know the weakness of the fortification; for, o' my conscience, he'd soon on to the assault.

L. Brute. Ay, and I'm afraid carry the town too. But whatever you may have observed, I have dissembled so well as to keep him ignorant. So you see I'm no coquette, Belinda ; and if you'll follow my advice, you'll never be one neither. 'Tis true, coquetry is one of the main ingredients in the natural composition of a woman; and 1, as well as others, could be well enough pleased to see a crowd of young fellows ogling, and glancing, and watching all occasions to do forty foolish officious things; nay, should some of 'em push on, even to hanging or drowning, why-faithif I should let pure woman alone, I should e'en be too well pleased with it.

Bel. I'll swear 'twould tickle me strangely.

L. Brute. But, after all, 'tis a vicious practice in us to give the least encouragement but where we design to come to a conclusion; for tis an unreasonable thing to engage a man in a disease, which we before-hand resolve we will never ap ply a cure to.

"Bel. 'Tis true; but then a woman must abandon one of the supreme blessings of her life; for I am fully convinced, no man has half that pleasure in gallanting a mistress, as a woman has in jilting a gallant.

L. Brute. The happiest woman then on earth must be our neighbour.

Bel. Oh, the impertinent composition ! She has vanity and affectation enough to make her a ridiculous original, and in spite of all that art and nature ever furnished to any of her sex before her.

L. Brute. She concludes all men her captives; and whatever course they take, it serves to confirm her in that opinion.

Bel. If they shun her, she thinks 'tis modesty, and takes it for a proof of their passion.

L. Brute. And if they are rude to her, 'tis conduct, and done to prevent town-talk.

Bel. When her folly makes 'em laugh, she thinks they are pleased with her wit.

L. Brute. And when her impertinence makes 'em dull, concludes they are jealous of her favours. Bel. All their actions and their words, she takes for granted, aim at her.

L. Brute. And pities all other women, because she thinks they envy her.

Bel. Pray, out of pity to ourselves, let us find a better subject, for I'm weary of this.-Do you think your husband inclined to jealousy ?

L. Brute, O no; he does not love me well enough for that. Lord, how wrong men's maxims are !-They are seldom jealous of their wives, unless they are very fond of 'em; whereas they ought to consider the women's inclinations, for there depends their fate. Well, men may talk, but they are not so wise as we, that's certain. Bel. At least in our affairs.

L. Brute. Nay, I believe we should outdo 'em