Clinch. fen. Gone, fay you! and with my cloaths! my fine Jubilee cloaths!-O, the rogue, the thief!-ríl have him hang'd for murder.-But how fhall I get home in this pickle?

Par. I'm afraid, fir, the colonel will be back prefently, for he dines at home.

Clinch. fen. Oh, then I must sneak off!

Was ever fuch an unfortunate beau,

To have his coat well thrash'd, and lose his coat also ?

Lure. Thus the noble Poet spoke truth:

Nothing juits orfe with vice than want of fense:
Fools are ftill wicked at their own expence.

[Exit.

Par. Methinks, madam, the injuries you have fuffer'd by men must be very great, to raise such heavy refentments against the whole fex.

Lure. The greateft injury that woman cou'd fuftain; they robb'd me of that jewel, which preferv'd, exalts our fex almost to angels; but destroy'd, debases us below the worst of brutes, mankind.

Par. But I think, madam, your anger fhou'd be only confin'd to the author of your wrongs.

Lure. The author! alas, I know him not, which makes my wrongs the greater.'

Par. Not know him! 'Tis odd, madam, that a man fhould rob you of that fame jewel you mentioned, and you not know him.

Lure. Leave trifling ;-'tis a subject that always fours my temper: But fince, by thy faithful fervice, I have fome reason to confide in your fecrecy, hear the ftrange relation. Some twelve years ago, I liv'd at my father's house in Oxfordshire, bleft with innocence, the ornamental, but weak guard of blooming beauty: I was then just fifteen, an age fatal to the female fex:' our youth is tempting, our innocence credulous, romances moving, love powerful, and men are villains. Then it happened, that three young gentlemen from the univerfity coming into the country, and being benighted, and ftrangers, call'd at my father's: He was very glad of their company, and offer'd them the entertainn.ent of his house.

1

Par. Which they accepted, no doubt: Oh! thefe Atrolling collegians are never abroad, but upon fome mifchief.

Lure. They had fome private frolic or defign in their heads, as appear'd by their not naming one another, which my father perceiving, out of civility, made no enquiry into their affairs; two of them had a heavy, pedantic, univerfity air, a fort of a difagreeable fcholaftic boorishness in their behaviour; but the third!

Par. Ah! the third, madam ;-the third of all things, they say, is very critical.

Lure. He was-but in fhort, nature cut him out for my undoing; he feem'd to be about eighteen.

Par. A fit match for your fifteen as cou'd be.

Lure. He had a genteel sweetness in his face, a graceful comeliness in his perfon, and his tongue was fit to footh foft innocence to ruin. His very looks were witty, and his expreffive eyes spoke fofter, prettier things, than words cou'd frame.

Par. There will be mischief by and by; I never heard a woman talk so much of eyes, but there were tears presently after.'

Lure. His difcourfe was directed to my father, but his looks to me. After fupper I went to my chamber, and read Caffandra, then went to bed, and dreamt of him all night, rofe in the morning, and made verfes,' fo fell desperately in love.-My father was fo well pleas'd with his converfation, that he begg'd their company next day; they confented, and next night, Parly

Par. Ah, next night, madam,-next night (I'm afraid) was a night indeed.

Lure. He brib'd my maid, with his gold, out of her honefty; and me, with his rhetoric, out of my honour. She admitted him to my chamber, and there he vow'd, and fwore, and wept, and figh'd-and conquer'd.

[Weeps. Weeps.

Par. A lack-a-day, poor fifteen!
Lure. He fwore that he wou'd come down from Oxford

in a fortnight, and marry me.

Par

Par. The old bait! the old bait ?-I was cheated juft fo myself. Afide.] But had not you the wit to know his name all this while?

Lure. Alas! what wit had innocence like mine? He told me, that he was under an obligation to his companions of concealing himself then, but that he would write to me in two days, and let me know his name and quaAfter all the binding oaths of conftancy, joining hands, exchanging hearts,' I gave him a ring with this motto, love and honour; then we parted, but I never faw the dear deceiver more.

Par. No, nor never will, I warrant you.

Lure. I need not tell my griefs, which my father's death made a fair pretence for; he left me fole heiress and executrix to three thoufand pounds a year: At last, my love for this fingle dinembler turn'd to a hatred of the whole fex; and refolving to divert my melancholy, and make my large fortune fubfervient to my pleasure and revenge, I went to travel, where, in moft courts of Europe, I have done fome execution. Here I will play my laft fcene; then retire to my country houfe, live folitary, and die a penitent.

Par. But don't you still love this dear diffembler ? Lure. Moft certainly: "Tis love of him that keeps my anger warm, representing the baseness of mankind full in view; and makes my refentments work-We shall have that old impotent lecher, Smuggler, here to night; I have a plot to swinge him, and his precife nephew,

Vizard.

Par. I think, madam, you manage every body that comes in

your way.

But

Lure. No, Parly; thofe men, whofe pretenfions I found juft and honourable, I fairly diimiis'd, by letting them know my firm refolutions never to marry. thofe villains that wou'd attempt my honour, I've seldom fail'd to manage.

• Par. What d'ye think of the colonel, madam? I fup'pofe his defigns are honourable.

Lure. That man's a riddle; there's something of honour in his temper that pleafes; I'm fure he loves me too, because he's foon jealous, and foon fatisfy'd. But

• he's

he's a man ftill.-When I once tried his pulfe about marriage, his blood ran as low as a coward's. He swore indeed, that he lov'd me, but cou'd not marry me, forfooth, because he was engag'd elsewhere. So poor a pretence made me difdain his paffion, which otherwise might have been uneafy to me.-But hang him, I have teiz'd him enough.-Befides, Parly, I begin to be tir'd of my revenge :'-But this bufs and guinea I muft maul once more. I'll hanfel his woman's cloaths for him. Go get me pen and ink; I must write to Vizard too.

Fortune, this once affift me as before;

Two fuch machines can never work in vain,
As thy propitious wheel, and my projecting brain.

[Exeunt.

ACT IV.

SCENE, Covent-Garden.

Wildair and Standard meeting.

Stand. Thought, Sir Harry, to have met you ere this in a more convenient place; but fince my wrongs were without ceremony, my revenge fhall be fo too. Draw, fir!

Wild. Draw, fir! What fhall I draw?

Stand. Come, come, fir, I like your facetious humour well enough; it fhews courage and unconcern. I know you're brave; and therefore ufe you thus. Draw your fword.

Wild. Nay, to oblige you, I will draw; but the devil take me if I fight.-Perhaps, colonel, this is the prettiest blade you have seen.

Stand. I doubt not but the arm is good; and therefore think both worth my refentment. Come, fir.

C

Wild.

Wild. But, prithee colonel, doft think that I am fuch a madman, as to fend my foul to the devil, and body to the worms upon every fool's errand?

Stand. I hope you're no coward, fir.

[Afide.

Wild. Coward, fir! I have eight thousand pounds a year, fir.

Stand. You fought in Flanders, to my knowledge. Wild. Ay, for the fame reafon that I wore a red coat; because 'twas fashionable.

Stand. Sir, you fought a French Count in Paris.

Wild. True, fir; but there was no danger of lands, nor tenen.ents: Befides, he was a beau, like myself. Now you're a foldier, colonel, and fighting's your trade, and I think it downright madness to contend with any man in his profeffion.

Stand. Come, fir, no more dallying: I fhall take very unfeemly methods, if you don't fhew yourself a gentle

man.

Wild. A gentleman! Why there again now. A gentleman! I tell you once more, colonel, that I am a baronet, and have eight thousand pounds a year. I can dance, fing, ride, fence, understand the languages. Now, I can't conceive how running you through the body thou'd contribute one jot more to my gentility. But pray, colonel, I had forgot to afk you, what's the quarrel?

Stand. A woman, fir.

Wild. Then I put up my fword. Take her.
Stand. Sir, my honour's concerned.

Wild. Nay, if your honour be concern'd with a woman, get it out of her hands as foon as you can. An honourable lover is the greatest flave in nature; fome will fay, the greateft fool. Come, come, colonel, this is Yomething about the lady Lurewell, I warrant; I can give you fatisfaction in that affair.

Stand. Do fo then immediately.

Wild. Put up your fword firft; you know I dare fight: But I had much rather make you a friend than an enemy. I can affure you, this lady will prove too hard for one of your temper. You have too much honour, too much in confcience, to be a favourite with the ladies.

Stand.