PROLOGUE.

COU'D thofe, who never try'd, conceive the fweat,
The toil requir'd, to make a play complete;
They'd pardon, or encourage all that cou'd
Pretend to be but tolerably good.

Plot, wit, and humour's hard to meet in one,
And yet without 'em all-all's lamely done:
One wit, perhaps, another humour paints;
A third defigns you well, but genius wants ;
A fourth begins with fire-but, ah! too weak to hold
it, faints.

A modern bard, who late adorn'd the bays,
Whofe Mufe advanc'd his fame to envy'd praise,
Was ftill obferv'd to want his judgment moft in plays.
Thofe, be too often found, requir'd the pain,
And ftronger forces of a vig'rous brain':
Nay, even alter'd plays, like old houfes mended,
Coft little less than new, before they're ended;
At least, our author finds the experience true,

For

equal pains had made this wholly new:
And though the name feem's old, the fcenes will show
That 'tis, in fact, no more the fame, than now.
Fam'd Chatfworth is, what 'twas fome years ago.
Pardon the boldness, that a play should dare,
With works of fo much wonder to compare :
But as that fabrick's ancient walls or wood
Were little worth, to make this new one good;
So of this play, we hope, 'tis understood.
For though from former fcenes fome hints he draws,
The ground-plot's wholly chang'd from what it was:
Not but he hopes you'll find enough that's new,
In plot, in perfons, wit and humour too:
Yet what's not his, he owns in others right,
Nor toils he now for fame, but your delight.
If that's attain'd, what matter's whose the play's?
Applaud the Scenes, and ftrip him of the praise.

A 2

}

Dramatis

Enter Clerimont and Atall.

R. Atall, 'your very humble fervant.

M2

At. O Clerimont, fuch an adventure! I was just going to your lodgings, fuch a tranfporting accident! in fhort, I am now pofitively in love for altoge

ther.

Clar. All the fex together, I believe.

At. Nay if thou doft not believe me, and ftand my friend, I am ruin'd paft redemption.

Cler. Dear fir, if I ftand your friend without believ ing you, won't that do as well? But why fhou'd you think I don't believe you? I have feen you twice in love within this fortnight; and it wou'd be hard indeed to fuppofe a heart of fo much mettle could not hold out a third engagement.

At. Then, to be ferious, in one word, I am honourably in love; and, if the proves the woman I am sure she muft, will pofitively marry her.

Cler. Marry! O degenerate virtue !

At. Now will you help me?

Cler. Sir, you may depend upon me:-Pray give me leave first to ask a question or two: What is this honourable lady's name?

A 3

At.

At. Faith, I don't know.

Cler. What are her parents?

At. I can't tell.

Cler. What fortune has fhe ?
At. I don't know.

Cler. Where does she live ?
At. I can't tell.

Cler. A very concife account of the perfon you defign to marry. Pray, fir, what is't you do know of her?

At. That I'll tell you: Coming yesterday from Greenwich by water, I overtook a pair of oars, whose lovely freight was one fingle lady, and a fellow in a handsome livery in the stern. When I came up, I had at first refolv'd to ufe the privilege of the element, and bait her with waterman's wit, till I came to the bridge; but, as foon as the faw me, fhe very prudently prevented my defign; and, as I pafs'd, bow'd to me with an' humble blush, that spoke at once fuch sense, so just a fear, and modefty, as put the loofeft of my thoughts to rout. And when the found her fears had mov'd me into manners, the cautious gloom that fat upon her beauties difappear'd; her sparkling eyes refum'd their native fire; fhe look'd, fhe fmil'd, fhe talk'd, while her diffufive charms new fir'd my heart, and gave my foul a foftnefs it never felt before-To be brief, her converfation was as charming as her perfon, both eafy, unconstrain'd, and fprightly: But then her limbs! O rapturous thought! The fnowy down upon the wings of unfledg'd love, had never half that foftnefs.

Cler. Raptures indeed. Pray, fir, how came you fo well acquainted with her limbs ?

At. By the moft fortunate misfortune fure that ever was: For, as we were fhooting the bridge, her boat, by the negligence of the waterman, running against the piles, was overfet; out jumps the footman to take care of a fingle rogue, and down went the poor lady to the bottom. My boat being before her, the ftream drove her, by the help of her cloaths, towards me; at fight of her I plung'd in, caught her in my arms, and, with much a do, fupported her till my waterman pull'd in to fave us. But the charming difficulty of her getting into the boat, gave me a transport that all the wide water in the Thames had not power to cool; for, fir, while I was

giving her a lift into the boat, I found the floating of her cloaths had left her lovely limbs beneath as bare as new-born Venus rifing from the sea.

Cler. What an impudent happiness art thou capable of!

At. When she was a little recover'd from her fright fhe began to enquire my name, abode, and circumftances, that she might know to whom she ow'd her life and prefervation. Now, to tell you the truth, I durft not truft her with my real name, left she should from thence have discover'd that my father was now actually under bonds to marry me to another woman; fo faith I ev'n told her my name was Freeman, a Gloucestershire gentleman, of a good eftate, just come to town about a chancery fuit. Befides, I was unwilling any accident fhould let my father know of my being yet in England, left he should find me out, and force me to marry the woman I never faw (for which, you know, he commanded me home) before I have time to prevent it.

Cler. Well, but cou'd not you learn the lady's name all this while ?

At. No faith, fhe was inexorable to all intreaties ; only told me in general terms, that if what I vow'd to her was fincere, fhe wou'd give me a proof in a few days what hazards she would run to requite my fervices; fo after having told her where he might hear of me, I faw her into a chair, prefs'd her by the cold rofy fingers, kifs'd 'em warm, and parted.

Cler. What! Then you are quite off of the lady, I fuppofe, that you made an acquaintance with in the park last week.

At. No, no; not fo neither: One's my Juno, all pride and beauty; but this my Venus, all life, love, and foftnefs. Now, what I beg of thee, dear Clerimont, is this: Mrs. Juno, as I told you, having done me the honour of a civil vifit or two at my own lodgings, I muft needs borrow thine to entertain Mrs. Venus in; for if the rival goddeffes fhould meet and clafh, you know there wou'd be the devil to do between them.

Cler. Well, fir, my lodgings are at your fervice: But you must be very private and fober, I can tell you; for my landlady's a prefbyterian; if the fufpects your defign, you're blown up, depend upon't.