knows it; is very silly, and thinks she has sense; | tious person-and the best company.- -And and has an old fond husband. my lord Froth, your lordship is so merry a man, he, he, he! Care. I confess a very fair foundation for a lover to build upon. Lord Froth. O foy, sir Paul, what do you mean? Merry! O barbarous! I'd as lieve you Sir Paul. Nay, I protest and vow now, 'tis true; when Mr. Brisk jokes, your lordship's laugh does so become you, he, he, he! Mel. For my lord Froth, he and his wife will be sufficiently taken up with admiring one ano-called me fool. ther, and Brisk's gallantry, as they call it. I will observe my uncle myself; and Jack Maskwell has promised me to watch my aunt narrowly, and give me notice upon any suspicion. As for sir Paul, my wise father-in-law that is to be, my dear Cynthia has such a share in his fatherly fondness, he would scarce make her a moment uneasy, to have her happy hereafter. Cure. So, you have manned your works; but I wish you may not have the weakest guard, where the enemy is strongest. Mel. Maskwell, you mean; pr'ythee why should you suspect him? Care. Faith I cannot help it; you know I never liked him; I am a little superstitious in physiognomy. Mel. He has obligations of gratitude to bind him to me; his dependence upon my uncle is through my means. Care. Upon your aunt, you mean. Lord Froth. Ridiculous! sir Paul, you're strangely mistaken; I find champagne is powerful. I assure you, sir Paul, I laugh at nobody's jest but my own, or a lady's; I assure you, sir Paul. Brisk. How? how, my lord? What, affront my wit! Let me perish, do I never say any thing worthy to be laughed at? Lord Froth. O foy, don't misapprehend me : I don't say so; for I often smile at your conceptions. But there is nothing more unbecoming a man of quality, than to laugh; 'tis such a vulgar expression of the passion! every body can laugh. Then, especially, to laugh at the jest of an inferior person, or when any body else of the same quality does not laugh with one. Ridiculous! to be pleased with what pleases the crowd! Now, when I laugh, I always laugh alone. Brisk. I suppose that's because you laugh at not-your own jests, 'cgad, ha, ha, ha! Care. I am mistaken, if there be not a familiarity between them you do not suspect, withstanding her passion for you. Mel. Pooh, pooh; nothing in the world but his design to do me service; and he endeavours to be well in her esteem, that he inay be able to effect it. your Care. Well, I shall be glad to be mistaken: but aunt's aversion, in her revenge, cannot be any way so effectually shewn, as in bringing forth a child to disinherit you. She is handsome and cunning, and naturally wanton. Maskwell is flesh and blood at best, and opportunities between them are frequent. His affection to you, you have confessed, is grounded upon his interest; that you have transplanted; and, should it take root in my lady, I do not see what you can expect from the fruit. Mel. I confess the consequence is visible, were your suspicions just.-But see, the company is broke let us meet them. up; Enter Lord TOUCHWOOD, Lord FROTH, Sir Lord Touch. Out upon't, nephew-leave your father-in-law, and me, to maintain our ground against young people! Mel. I beg your lordship's pardon—we were just returning Sir Paul. Were you, son? Gadsbud, much better as it is-Good, strange! I swear I'm almost tipsy t'other bottle would have been too Lord Froth. He, he, I swear though! your raillery provokes me to a smile. Brisk. Ay, my lord, it's a sign I hit you in the teeth, if you shew them. Lord Froth. He, he, he! I swear that's so very pretty, I can't forbear. Lord Touch. Sir Paul, if you please we'll retire to the ladies, and drink a dish of tea to settle our heads. Sir Paul. With all my heart.-Mr. Brisk, you'll come to us or call to me when you joke-I'll be ready to laugh incontinently. [Exeunt Lord TOUCH. and Sir PAUL. Mel. But does your lordship never see com medies? powerful for me as sure as can be it would.-lence at first, but now I think I have conquered We wanted your company, but Mr. Brisk-it. where is he? I swear and vow he's a most face Brisk. Let me perish, my lord, but there is something very particular in the humour; 'tis true, it makes against wit, and I'm sorry for some friends of mine that write; but 'egad, I love to be malicious.-Nay, deuce take me, there's wit in't, too—and wit must be foiled by wit; cut a diamond with a diamond; no other way, 'egad. Lord Froth. Oh, I thought you would not be long before you found out the wit. Care. Wit! In what? Where the devil's the wit in not laughing, when a man has a mind to't? Brisk. O lord, why, can't you find it out?Why, there 'tis, in the not laughing-Don't you apprehend me?-My lord, Careless is a very honest fellow; but hark ye-you understand me, somewhat heavy, a little shallow, or so.Why, I'll tell you now; suppose, now, you come up to me- -Nay, pr'ythee, Careless, be instructed. Suppose, as I was saying, you come up to me, holding your sides, and laughing, as if you would- -Well-I look grave, and ask the cause of this immoderate mirth-You laugh on still, and are not able to tell me -Still I look grave, not so much as smile. Care. Smile, no; what the devil should you smile at, when you suppose I can't tell you? Brisk. Pshaw, pshaw, pry'thee don't interrupt me. But I tell you, you shall tell me at last But it shall be a great while first. Care. Well; but pr'ythee don't let it be a great while, because I long to have it over. Brisk. Well, then, you tell me some good jest, or very witty thing, laughing all the while as if you were ready to die and I hear it, and Iook thus. Would not you be disappointed? Care. No for if it were a witty thing, I should not expect you to understand it. Lord Froth. O foy, Mr. Careless, all the world allows Mr. Brisk to have wit; my wife says he has a great deal. I hope you think her a judge. Brisk. Pooh, my lord, his voice goes for nothing. I can't tell how to make him apprehend. -Take it t'other way. Suppose I say a witty thing to you? Care. Then I shall be disappointed, indeed. Mel. Let him alone, Brisk; he is obstinately bent not to be instructed. Brisk. I'm sorry for him, the deuce take me. Mel. Shall we go to the ladies, my lord? Lord Froth. With all my heart ;- -methinks we are a solitude without them. Mel. Or, what say you to another bottle of champagne? Lord Froth. O, for the universe, not a drop more, I beseech you. Oh, intemperate! I have a flushing in my face already. Mask. No, that I deny: for I never told in all my life; so that accusation's answeredOn to the next. Lady Touch. Death! do you dally with my passion? Insolent devil! But have a careprovoke me not; for, by the eternal fire, you shall not escape my vengeance! Calm villain! how unconcerned he stands, confessing treachery and ingratitude! Is there a vice more black!Oh, I have excuses, thousands, for my faults: fire in my temper; passions in my soul, apt to every provocation; oppressed, at once, with love and with despair: but a sedate, a thinking villain, whose black blood runs temperately bad, what excuse can clear? Mask. Will you be in temper, madam? I would not talk not to be heard. I have been [She walks about disordered.] a very great rogue for your sake, and you reproach me with it; I am ready to be a rogue still, to do you service; and you are flinging conscience and honour in my face, to rebate my inclinations. How am I to behave myself? You know I am your creature, my life and fortune in your power; to disoblige you brings me certain ruin. Allow it, I would betray you, I would not be a traitor to myself I do not pretend to honesty, because you know I am a rascal: but I would convince you, from the necessity of my being firm to you. [Takes out a pocket glass, and looks in it. Brisk. Let me see, let me see, my lord! I Lady Touch. Necessity, impudence! Can no broke my glass that was in the lid of my snuff-gratitude incline you, no obligations touch you? box. Hum! Deuce take me, I have encouraged a pimple here too. [Takes the glass, and looks. Lord Froth. Then you must mortify him with Were you not in the nature of a servant, and have not I, in effect, made you lord of all, of me, and of my lord? Where is that humble love, the you yourself, in open hours of love, have told Another caprice to unwind my temper? Lady Touch. Oh, Maskwell! in vain do I disguise me from thee: thou knowest me, knowest my soul-married to-morrow! Despair strikes me! Yet my soul knows I hate him, too: let him but once be mine Mask. Look you, madam, we are alone. Pray contain yourself, and hear me. You know you loved your nephew, when I first sighed for you; I quickly found it; an argument that I loved for with that art you veiled your passion, 'twas imperceptible to all but jealous eyes. This discovery made me bold, I confess it; for, by it, I thought you in my power. Your nephew's scorn of you added to my hopes; I watched the occasion, and took you, just repulsed by him, warm at once with love and indignation; your disposicious tion, my arguments, and happy opportunity, accomplished my design; I prest the yielding minute, and was blest. How I have loved you since, words have not shewn; then, how should words express? Lady Touch. Well, mollifying devil !— have I not met your love? Mask. Compose yourself, you shall possess and ruin him, too-Will that please you? Lady Touch. How, how? thou dear, thou previllain, how? Mask. You have already been tampering with my Lady Plyant. Lady Touch, I have; she is ready for any im pression I think fit, Mask. She must be thoroughly persuaded that -And Mellefont loves her. Lady Touch. She is so credulous that way namis-turally, and likes him so well, that she will believe it faster than I can persuade her. But I don't see what you can propose from such a trifling design; for her first conversing with Mellefont will convince her of the contrary. Mask. Your zeal, I grant, was ardent, but placed; there was revenge in view; that woman's idol had defiled the temple of the god, and love was made a mock-worship—A son and heir would have edged young Mellefont upon the brink of ruin, and left him none but you to catch at for prevention. Lady Touch. Again provoke me! Do you wind me like a larum, only to rouse my stilled soul for your diversion? Confusion! Mask. Nay, madam, I am gone, if you relapse SCENE 1. Mask. I know it-I don't depend upon it One minute gives invention to destroy, АСТ II. Enter Lady FROTH and CYNTHIA. Cyn. INDEED, madam! Is it possible your ladyship could have been so much in love? Lady Froth. I could not sleep; I did not sleep one wink for three weeks together. Cyn. Prodigious! I wonder want of sleep, and so much love, and so much wit as your ladyship has, did not turn your brain. Lady Froth. O my dear Cynthia, you must not rally your friend-but really, as you say, I wonder, too---but then I had a way. For, between you and I, I had whimsies and vapours-but I gave them vent. Cyn. How, pray, madam? Cyn. Write, what? Lady Froth. Songs, elegies, satires, encomiums, panegyrics, lampoons, plays, or heroic poems. Cyn. O lord, not I, madam; I am content to be a courteous reader. Lady Froth. O inconsistent! in love, and not write! If my lord and I had been both of your temper, we had never come together-O bless me! what a sad thing would that have been, if my lord and I should never have met ! Cyn. Then, neither my lord nor you would ever have met with your match, on my conscience. Lady Froth. O' my conscience no more we should; thou say'st right-for sure my Lord Froth is as fine a gentleman, and as much a man Lady Froth. O, I writ, writ abundantly of quality! Ah! nothing at all of the common Do you never write? air-I think I may say he wants nothing but a blue ribband and a star, to make him shine the | very phosphorus of our hemisphere. Do you understand those two hard words? If you don't, I'll explain them to you. Cyn. Yes, yes, madam, I am not so ignorantAt least I won't own it, to be troubled with your instructions. [Aside. Lady Froth. Nay, I beg your pardon; but being derived from the Greek, I thought you might have escaped the etymology—But I am the more amazed, to find you a woman of letters, and not write! Bless me! how can Mellefont believe you love him? Cyn. Why, faith, madam, he, that won't take my word, shall never have it under my hand. Lady Froth. I vow Mellefont's a pretty gentleman, but methinks he wants a manner. Cyn. A manner! What's that, madam? Lady Froth. Some distinguishing quality; as, for example, the bel air or brillant of Mr Brisk; the solemnity, yet complaisance of my lord; or something of his own that should look a little je ne sçai quoi; he is too much a mediocrity, in my mind. Cyn. He does not indeed affect either pertness or formality, for which I like him-Here | he comes. Enter Lord FROTH, MELLEFONT, and BRISK. Impertinent creature! I could almost be angry with her now. [Aside. Lady Froth. My lord, I have been telling Cynthia how much I have been in love with you; I swear I have; I'm not ashamed to own it now. Ah! it makes my heart leap; I vow I sigh when I think on't :-My dear lord! ha, ha, ha, do you remember, my lord? [Squeezes him by the hand, looks kindly on him, sighs, and then laughs out.] Lord Froth. Pleasant creature! Perfectly well. Ah! that look! Ay, there it is; who could resist!- Twas so my heart was made a captive at first, and ever since it has been in love with happy slavery. Lady Froth. O that tongue, that dear deceit ful tongue! that charming softness in your mien and your expression! and then your bow! Good, my lord, bow as you did when I gave you my picture; here, suppose this my picture-[Gives him a pocket glass.]-Pray mind, my lord; ah! he bows charmingly. Nay, my lord, you shan't kiss it so much; I shall grow jealous, I vow now. [He bows profoundly low, then kisses the glass.] Lord Froth. I saw myself there, and kissed it for your sake. Lady Froth. Ah! gallantry to the last degree -Mr Brisk, you are a judge; was ever any thing so well bred as my lord? Brisk. Never any thing but your ladyship, let me perish. Lady Froth. O prettily turned again; let me die but you have a great deal of wit-Mr. Mellefont, don't you think Mr Brisk has a world of wit? Mel. O yes, madam. Lady Froth. More wit than any body. Brisk. I am everlastingly your humble servant, deuce take me, madam. Lord Froth. Don't you think us a happy couple? Cyn. I vow, my lord, I think you the happiest couple in the world. Lord Froth. I hope Mellefont will make a good husband, too. Cyn. 'Tis my interest to believe he will, my lord. Lord Froth. D'ye think he'll love you as well as I do my wife? I am afraid not. Cyn. I believe he'll love me better. Lord Froth. Heavens! that can never be; but why do you think so? Cyn. Because he has not so much reason to be fond of himself. Lord Froth. O your humble servant for that, dear madam. Well, Mellefont, you'll be a happy creature. Mel. Ay, my lord, I shall have the same reason for my happiness that your lordship has; I shall think myself happy. Lord Froth. Ah, that's all. Brisk. [To Lady FROTH.] Your ladyship is in the right; but, 'egad, I'm wholly turned into satire. I confess I write but seldom, but when I do--keen Iambics, 'egad. But my lord was telling me, your ladyship has made an essay toward an heroic poem. Lady Froth. Did my lord tell you? Yes, I vow, and the subject is my lord's love to me. And what do you think I call it? I dare swear yon won't guess- -The Syllabub! ha, ha, ha! Brisk. Because my lord's title's Froth, 'egad; ha, ha, ha, ha! deuce take me, very à propos, and surprizing, ha, ha, ha! Lady Froth. He, he! ay, is not it?—And then I call my lord Spumosa; and myself—what do ye think I call myself? Brisk. Lactilla, may be—'Egad I cannot tell. Lady Froth. Biddy, that's all; just my own name. Brisk. Biddy! 'Egad very pretty-Deuce take me, if your ladyship has not the art of surprizing the most naturally in the world-I hope you'll make me happy in communicating the poem. Lady Froth. O, you must be my confident; I must ask your advice. Brisk. I'm your humble servant, let me perish -I presume your ladyship has read Bossu? Lady Froth. O yes, and Rapine, and Dacier upon Aristotle and Horace.-My lord, you must not be jealous! I'm communicating all to Mr Brisk. Lord Froth. No, no, I'll allow Mr Brisk; come, have you nothing about you to shew him, my dear? Lady Froth. Yes, I believe I have. Mr Brisk, will you go into the next room, and there I'll shew you what I have. come to you. [Exeunt LADY FROTH and BRISK. Lord Froth. I'll walk a turn in the garden, and [Erit LORD FROTH. Mel. You are thoughtful, Cynthia. Cyn. I am thinking, though marriage makes man and wife one flesh, it leaves them still two fools; and they become more conspicuous by setting off one another. Mel. That's only, when two fools meet, and their follies are opposed. Cyn. Nay, I have known two wits meet, and, by the opposition of their wit, render themselves as ridiculous as fools. 'Tis an odd game we are going to play at; what think you of drawing stakes, and giving over in time? Mel. No, hang it, that's not endeavouring to win, because it is possible we may lose; since we have shuffled and cut, let us e'en turn up trump now. Cyn. Then, I find it is like cards; if either of us have a good hand, it is an accident of fortune. Mel. No, marriage is rather like a game at bowls: fortune indeed makes the match, and the two nearest, and sometimes the two farthest are together, but the game depends entirely upon judgment. Cyn. Still it is a game, and consequently one of us must be a loser. Mel. Not at all; only a friendly trial of skill, | and the winnings to be laid out in an entertain ment. Enter SIR PAUL PLYANT and LADY PLYANT. Sir Paul, Gads bud! I am provoked into a fermentation, as my lady Froth says; was ever the like read of in story? Lady Ply. Sir Paul, have patience; let me alone to rattle him up. Sir Paul. Pray your ladyship give me leave to be angry-I'll rattle him up, I warrant you, I'll firk him with a certiorari. Lady Ply. You firk him! I'll firk him myself. Pray, sir Paul, hold you contented. Cyn. Bless me, what makes my father in such a passion!-I never saw him thus before. Sir Paul. Hold yourself contented, my lady Plyant-I find passion coming upon me by inflation, and I cannot submit as formerly; therefore, give way. Lady Ply. How now! will you be pleased to retire, and Sir Paul. No, marry, will I not be pleased; I am pleased to be angry, that is my pleasure at this time. why, how now, who are you? What am I? Slidikins, can't I govern you? What did I marry you for? Am I not absolute and uncontroulable? Is it fit a woman of my spirit and conduct should be contradicted in a matter of this concern? Sir Paul. It concerns me, and only me :-Besides, I am not to be governed at all times. When I am in tranquillity, my lady Plyant shall command sir Paul; but, when I am provoked to fury, I cannot incorporate with patience and reasou ;---as soon may tigers match with tigers, lambs with lambs, and every creature couple with its foe, as the poet says. Lady Piy, He's hot-headed still! 'tis in vain to talk to you; but, remember, I have a curtain-. lecture for you, you disobedient, headstrong brute. Sir Paul. No, 'tis because I won't be headstrong, because I won't be a brute, and have my head fortified, that I am thus exasperated.-But I will protect my honour, and yonder is the violator of my fame. Lady Ply. 'Tis my honour that is concerned, and the violation was intended to me.—Your honour! you have none but what is in my keeping, and I can dispose of it when I please-therefore, don't provoke me. Sir Paul. Hum! gads-bud, she says true--Well, my lady, march on, I will fight under you, then; I am convinced as far as passion will permit. [LADY PLYANT and SIR PAUL come up to MELLEFONT. Lady Ply. Inhuman and treacherousSir Paul. Thou serpent, and first tempter of womankind Cyn. Bless me, sir! Madam, what mean you? Sir Paul. Thy, Thy, come away, Thy, touch him not; come hither, girl; go not near him; there is nothing but deceit about him; snakes are in his peruke, and the crocodile of Nilus is in his belly; he will eat thee up alive. Lady Ply, Dishonourable, impudent creature! Mel. For Heaven's sake, madam, to whom do you direct this language? Lady Ply. Have I behaved myself with all the decorum aud, nicety, befitting the person of sir Paul's wife? Have I preserved my honour, as it were, in a snow-house for these three years past? Have I been white and unsullied even by sir Paul himself? Sir Paul. Nay, she has been an invincible wife, even to me, that's the truth on't. Lady Ply, Have I, I say, preserved myself like a fair sheet of paper, for you to make a blot upon? Sir Paul. And she shall make a simile with any woman in England. Mel. I am so amazed, I know not what to say. Sir Paul. Do you think my daughter, this pretty creature-gads-bud, she's a wife for a cherubin! Do you think her fit for nothing but to be a stalking horse, to stand before you, while you Ludy Ply. Gads my life, the man's distracted! | take aim at my wife? Gadsbud, I was never an Mel. What can this mean? |