Viz. There's Tom Errand, the porter, that plies at the Blue Pofts, one who knows Sir Harry and his haunts very well; you may send a note by him. Stand. Here, you, friend. Viz. I have now fome business, and must take my. leave; I would advise you nevertheless against this affair. Stand. No whispering now, nor telling of friends to prevent us. He that disappoints a man of an honoura-ble revenge, may love him foolishly like a wife, but never value him as a friend.. Viz. Nay, the devil take him that parts you, fay 1. Enter Porter running. ? Err. Did your honour call porter Err. People call me fo, an't like your worfhip- [Exit Err. Ay, very well, Sir; he's one of my beft master's; many a round half-crown have I had of his wor-hip; he's newly come home from France, fir. Stand. Go to the next coffee-house, and wait for me. [Exit Errand. woman, woman, how bleft is man, when favour'd by your fmiles, and how accurs'd when all those smiles are found but wanton baits to footh us to destruction ? • Thus our chief joys with base allays are curft, And our best things, when once corrupted, worst.' [Exit... Enter Wildair and Clincher fenior following, Clinch. Jen. Sir, fir, fir, having some business of impor-tance to communicate to you, I wou'd beg your attention to a trifling affair that I wou'd impart to your understanding. Wild. What is your trifling bufinefs of importance, pray, fweet fir ?- Clinch. fen. Pray, fir, are the roads deep, between this and Paris. « Wild. Why that question, fir? Clinch Clinch. fem. Because I defign to go to the Jubilee, fir; I understand that your are a traveller, fir; there is an air of travel in the tie of your cravat; fir-there is indeed, fir-I fuppofe, fir, you bought this lace in Flan ders. Wild. No, fir, this lace was made in Norway. Wild. Yes, fir, of the fhavings of deal-boards. Clinch. Jen. That's very ftrange now, faith-lace made of the fhavings of deal-boards! Egad, fir, you travellers fee very ftrange things abroad, very incredible things abroad, indeed. Well, I'll have a cravat of the very fame lace before I come home. Wild. But, fir, what preparations have you made for your journey? Clinch. Jen. A cafe of pocket-piftols for the bravo'sand a fwimming girdle. Wild. Why thefe, fir? Clinch. fen. O Lord! Sir, I'll tell you-fuppofe us in Rome now; away goes I to fome ball-for I'll be a mighty beau. Then, as I faid, I go to fome ball, or fome bear-baiting, 'tis all one you know-then comes a fine Italian Bona Roba, and plucks me by the fleeve, Signior Angle, Signior Angle-fhe's a very fine lady, obferve that-Signior Angle, fays fhe-Signora, fays I, and trips after her to the corner of a street, fuppofe it RuffelStrect here, or any other ftreet; then you know, I muft invite her to the tavern, I can do no lefs.-There up comes her bravo; the Italian grows faufy, and I give him an English doufe of the face. I can box, fir, box tightly; I was a 'prentice, fir,-but then, fir, he whips. out his filletto, and I whips out my bull-dog-flaps him through, trips down ftairs, turns the corner of Rufel-Street again, and whips me into the ambaffador's train, and there I'm fafe as a beau behind the fcenes. Wild. Is your piftol charg'd, fir? it. Clinch. Jen. Only a brace of bullets, that's all, fir. Wild. "Tis a very fine piftol, truly; pray let me fee Clinch, en. With all my heart, fir. Wild. Hark'e, Mr. Jubilee, can you digeft a brace of bullets? Clinch. fen. O by no means in the world, fir! Wild. I'll try the ftrength of your ftomach, however. Sir, you're a dead man. [Prefenting the piftol to his breaft. Clinch. fen. Confider, dear fir! I am going to the Jubilee, when I come home again, I am a dead man át your fervice. Wild. O very well, fir! but take heed you are not fo choleric for the future. Clinch. Jen. Choleric, fir! Oons! I defign to shoot feven Italians a week, fir. Wild. Sir, you won't have provocation. Clinch. fen. Provocation, fir! Zauns, fir, I'll kill any man for treading upon my corns, and there will be a devilish throng of people there; they say that all the princes in Italy will be there. Wild. And all the fops and fiddlers in Europe-But the ufe of your swimming girdle, pray, fir? Clinch. Jen. O Lord, fir! That's eafy. Suppofe the fhip caft away; now, whilft other foolish people are buly at their prayers, I whip on my fwimming girdle, clap a month's provifion into my pocket, and fails me away like an egg in a duck's belly.-And hark'e, fir, I have a new project in my head. Where d'ye think my fwimming girdle fhall carry me upon this, occafion? "Tis a new project. Wild. Where, fir? Clinch. fen. To Civita Vecchia, faith and troth, and fo fave the charges of my paffage. Well, fir, you must pardon me now, I'm going to fee my mistress. [Exit. Wild. This fellow's an accomplish'd afs before he goes abroad. Well! this Angelica has got into my heart, and I can't get her out of my head. I must pay her t'other visit. SCENE, Lady Darling's House. Enter Angelica. [Exit. Angel. Unhappy ftate of woman! whofe chief virtue is but ceremony, and our much boasted modesty ⚫ but but a flavish restraint. The ftrict confinement on our words, makes our thoughts ramble more; and what ⚫ preferves our outward fame, deftroys our inward quiet. 'Tis hard that love fhou'd be deny'd the privilege of -hatred; that scandal and detraction shou'd be fo much.. indulg'd, yet facred love and truth debar'd our con• verfation.' 6 Enter Darling, Clincher jun. and Dicky. Darl. This is my daughter, coufin. Dick. Now, fir, remember your three fcrapes. - Your humble fervant. One, two, three, Was not that right, Dicky? Dick. Ay, faith, fir; but why don't you speak toher? Clinch. jun. I beg your pardon, Dicky, I know my diftance. Wou'd you have me speak to a lady at the first fight? Dick. Ay, fir, by all means; the first aim is the fureft. Clinch. jun. Now for a good jest, to make her laugh heartily. By Jupiter Ammon I'll go give her a kiss. [Goes towards her. Enter Wildair, interpofing. Wild. 'Tis all to no purpofe, I told you fo before ; your pitiful five guineas will never do-you may go, I'll outbid you.. Clinch. jun. What the devil! the madman's here... again. Darl. Blefs me, coufin! what d'ye mean? Affront a gentleman of his quality in my house! Clinch. jun. Quality--Why, madam, I don't know what you mean by your madmen, and your beaux, and your quality-they're all alike, I believe. Darl. Pray, fir, walk with me into the next room. [Exit Darl. leading Clin. Dicky follows. Angel. Sir, if your converfation be no more agreeable than 'twas the last time, I wou'd advise you to make your visit as short as you can. Wild. The offences of my laft vifit, madam, bore their punishment in the commiffion; and have made me as uneafy till I receive pardon, as your ladyship can be till I fue for it. Angel. Sir Harry, I did not well underftand the of fence, and muft therefore proportion it to the greatnefs of your apology; if you wou'd therefore have me think... it light, take no great pains in an excufe. Wild. How fweet muft the lips be that guard that. tongue! then, madam, no more of paft offences, let us prepare for joys to come; let this feal my pardon. [Kifles her hand.] And this [Again] initiate me to farther happiness. Angel. Hold, fir,one queftion, Sir Harry, and pray anfwer plainly-d'ye love me? Wild. Love you! Does fire afcend? Do hypocrites diffemble? Ufurers love gold, or great men flattery ?: Doubt thefe, then queftion that I love. Angel. This fhews your gallantry, fir, but not your love. Wild. View your own charms, madam, then judge my paffion; your beauty ravishes my eye, your voice my ear, and your touch has thrill'd my melting foul. Angel. If your words be real, 'tis in your pow'r to raife an equal flame in me. Wild. Nay, then--I feize- Angel. Hold, fir, 'tis alfo poffible to make me deteft and fcorn you worse than the most profligate of your deceiving fex.. Wild. Ha! A very odd turn this. I hope, madam, you only affect anger, because you know your frowns are becoming. Angel. Sir Harry, you being the best judge of your own defigns, can best understand whether my anger fhou'd be real or diffembled; think what ftrict modelty: fhou'd bear, then judge of my refentments. Wild. Strict modefty fhou'd bear! Why faith, madam,` I believe, the strictefty modeft may bear fifty guineas, and I don't believe 'twill bear one farthing more. Angel. What d'ye mean, fir t |