Stand. I'm affur'd, fir, fhe never gave you any encouragement.

Wild. A man can never hear reafon with a sword in his hand. Sheath your weapon; and then if I don't fatisfy you, fheath it in my body.

Stand. Give me but demonftration of her granting you any favour, and it is enough. Wild. Will you take my word? Stand. Pardon me, fir, I cannot.

Wild. Will you believe your own eyes?

Stand. 'Tis ten to one whether I fhall or no, they have deceiv'd me already.

Wild. That's hard-But fome means I fhall devife for your fatisfaction-We muft fly this place, elfe that clufter of mob will overwhelm us.

[Exeunt.

Enter Mob, Tom Errand's Wife hurrying in Clincher fenior in Errand's cloaths.

Wife. Oh, the villain, the rogue, he has murder'd my hufband: Ah! my poor Timothy !

[Crying. Clin. fen. Dem your Timothy !-your hufband has 'murder'd me, woman; for he has carry'd away my fine Jubilee cloaths.

Wife. Ay, you cut-throat, have you not got his cloaths upon your back there?---Neighbours, don't you know poor Timothy's coat and apron ?

Mob. Ay, ay, it is the fame.

Firft Mob. What fhall we do with him, neighbours ?
Second Mob. We'll pull him in pieces.

First Mob. No, no; then we may be hang'd for murder: But we'll drown him.

Clin. fen. Ah, good people, pray don't drown me; for I never learnt to fwim in all my life. Ah, this plaguy intriguing!

Mob. Away with him, away with him to the Thames. : Clin. Jen. Oh, if I had but my fwimming girdle now.

Enter Conftable.

Conft. Hold, neighbours, I command the peace.

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Wife.

Wife. O Mr. Contable, here's a rogue that has murder'd my husband, and robb d ním of his cloaths.

Conft. Marder and robbery! then he mat be a gentleman. Hands off there; he muft not be abus’d.— Give an account of yourself. Are you a gentleman ? Clin. fen. No, fir, I am a beau.

Conf. A bean! Then you have kill'd nobody, I'm perfuadet. How came you by these cloaths, fir?

Clin. fen. You must know, fir, that walking along, fir, I don't know how, fir; I can't tell where, fir; and io the porter and I chang'd cloaths, fir.

Conft. Very well! the man speaks reafon, and like a gentleman.

Wife. But pray, Mr. Conftable, afk him how he chang'd cloaths with him.

Conft. Silence, woman! and don't difturb the court. -Well, fir, how did you change cloaths?

Clin. Jen. Why, fir, he pull'd off my coat, and I drew off his: So I put on his coat, and he put on mine.

Conft. Why, neighbour, I don't find that he's guilty: Search him; and if he carries no arms about him, we'll let him go. [They fearch his pockets, and pull out his piftels. Clin. fen. Gemini! My Jubilee pistols!

Conft. What, a cafe of piftols! Then the cafe is plain. Speak, what are you, fir? Whence came you, and whither go you?

Clin. fen. Sir, I came from Ruffel-Street, and am going to the Jubilee.

Wife. You fhall go to the gallows, you rogue.

Conft. Away with him, away with him to Newgate, ftraight.

Clin. fen. I fhall go to the Jubilee now, indeed. [Exeunt. Re-enter Wildair and Standard.

Wild. In fhort, colonel, 'tis all nonfenfe: Fight for a woman! Hard by is the lady's houfe, if you please we'll wait on her together: You fhall draw your fword; I'll draw my fnuff-box: You fhall produce your wounds receiv'd in war; I'll relate mine by Cupid's dart: You fhall look big; I'll ogle: You fhall fwear; I'll figh: You fhall fa, ja, and I'll coupée; and if the flies not to

my

my arms like a hawk to its perch, my dancing-mafter deferves to be damn'd.

Stand. With the generality of women, I grant you these arts may prevail.

Wild. Generality of women! Why there again, you're out. They're all alike, fir; I never heard of any one that was particular, but one.

Stand. Who was fhe, pray ?

Wild. Penelope, I think he's call'd, and that's a poetical story too. When will you find a poet in our age

make a woman so chafte?

Stand. Well, Sir Harry, your facetious humour can difguife falfhood, and make calumny pafs for fatire; but you have promis'd me ocular demonftration that fhe favours you: Make that good, and I fhall then maintain faith and female to be as inconfiftent as truth and falfhood.

Wild. Nay, by what you told me, I am fatisfied that fhe imposes on us all: And Vizard too feems what 'I ftill fufpected him: But his honefty once miftrusted, fpoils his knavery:'-But will you be convinc'd, if our plot fucceeds?

Stand. I rely on your word and honour, Sir Harry; " which if I doubted, my distruft wou'd cancel the obligation of their fecurity.'

Wild. Then meet me half an hour hence at the Rummer. You must oblige me by taking a hearty glass with me toward the fitting me out for a certain project, which this night I undertake.

Stand. I guess by the preparation, that woman's the defign.

. Wild. Yes, faith.-I am taken dangerous ill with two foolish maladies, modefty and love; the firft i'll cure with Burgundy, and my love by a night's lodging with the damfel. A fure remedy. Probatum eft.

Stand. I'll certainly mect you, fir.

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[Exeunt feverally.

Enter

but a flavish restraint. The ftri&t 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 fhou'd be so much. indulg'd, yet facred love and truth debar'd our con• verfation.'

Enter Darling, Clincher jun. and Dicky.

Darl. This is my daughter, coufin.

Dick. Now, fir, remember your three fcrapes..
Clinch. jun. faluting Angelica.]

Your humble fervant.

One, two, three, Was not that right, Dicky? Dick. Ay, faith, fir; but why don't you speak to

her?

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 firft aim is the fureft.

Clinch. jun. Now for a good jeft, 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 houfe!

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 vifit 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 understand 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 excuse.

Wild. How fweet must 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 question 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 detest 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 modesty 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