Lady Fan. My affectation, sir! Heart. Why, I ask you nothing but what may very well spare.

you

Lady Fan. You grow rude, sir. Come, mademoiselle, 'tis high time to be gone.

Madem. Allons, allons, allons!

Heart. [stopping them.] Nay, you may as well stand still; for hear me you shall, walk which way you please.

Lady Fan. What mean you, sir?

Heart. I mean to tell you, that you are the most ungrateful woman upon earth.

Lady Fan. Ungrateful! To whom?
Heart. To nature.

Lady Fan. Why, what has nature done to me? Heart. What you have undone by art! It made you handsome; it gave you beauty to a miracle, a shape without a fault, wit enough to make them relish, and so turned you loose to your own discretion, which has made such work with you, that you are become the pity of our sex, and the jest of your own. There is not a feature in your face, but you have found the way to teach it some affected convulsion; your feet, your hands, your very finger ends are directed never to move without some ridiculous air or other; and your language is a suitable trumpet, to draw people's eyes upon the raree show. Madem. [aside.] Est ce qu'on fait l'amour en Angleterre comme ça ?

Lady Fan. [aside.] Now could I cry for madness, but that I know he'd laugh at me for it!

Heart. Now do you hate me for telling you the truth, but that's because you don't believe 'tis so; for, were you once convinced of that, you'd reform for your own sake.

Lady Fan. Every circumstance of nice breeding must needs appear ridiculous to one, who has so natural an antipathy to good manners.

Heart. But suppose I could find the means to convince you, that the whole world is of my opinion?

Lady Fan. Sir, though you, and all the world you talk of, should be so impertinently officious, as to think to persuade me I don't know how to behave myself; I should still have charity enough for my own understanding, to believe myself in the right, and all you in the wrong.

Madem. Le voilà mort. [Exeunt Lady FANCIFUL, and MADEMOISELLE.] Heart. [gazing after her.] There her single clapper has published the sense of the whole sex. Well, this once I have endeavoured to wash the black-moor white, but henceforward I'll sooner undertake to teach sincerity to a courtier, generosity to an usurer, honesty to a lawyer, than discretion to a woman, I sce has once set her heart upon playing the fool.

Enter CONSTANT.

'Morrow, Constant.

doing here this morning?

Heart. Doing! guess if you can-Why I have been endeavouring to persuade my lady Fancyful, that she's the most foolish woman

about town.

Con. A pretty endeavour truly!

Heart. I have told her in as plain English as I could speak, both what the town says of her, and what I think of her. In short, I have used her as an absolute king would do Magna Charta. Con. And how does she take it?

Heart. As children do pills; bite them, but can't swallow them.

Con. But, prithee, what has put it into your head, of all mankind, to turn reformer? \

Heart. Why, one thing was, the morning hung upon my hands, I did not know what to do with myself: and another was, that as little as I care for women, I could not see with patience one, that Heaven had taken such wondrous pains about, be so very industrious to make herself the jack-pudding of the creation.

Con. Well, now could I almost wish to see my cruel mistress make the self-same use of what Heaven has done for her, that so I might be cured of the same disease, that makes me so very uneasy; for love, love is the devil, Heartfree.

Heart. And why do you let the devil govern you?

Con. Because I have more flesh and blood than grace and self-denial. My dear, dear mistress-'sdeath! that so genteel a woman should be a saint, when religion's out of fashion.

Heart. Nay, she's much in the wrong, truly; but who knows how far time and good example may prevail?

:

Con. O! they have played their parts in vain already Tis now two years since the damned fellow her husband invited me to his wedding; and that was the first time I saw that charming woman, whom I have loved ever since; but she is cold, my friend, still cold as the northern star.

Heart. So are all women by nature, which makes them so willing to be warmed.

Con. O don't profane the sex! prithee think them all angels for her sake; for she's virtuous even to a fault.

Heart. A lover's head is a good accountable thing truly; he adores his mistress for being virtuous, and yet is very angry with her, because she won't be lewd.

Con. Well, the only relief I expect in my misery is to see thee, some day or other, as deeply engaged as myself, which will force me to be merry in the midst of all my misfor

tunes.

here's the difference between you and I; I persuade a woman she's an angel, and she persuades you she's one. Prithee, let me tell you how I avoid falling in love; that, which serves me for prevention, may chance to serve you for a

cure.

Con. Well, use the ladies moderately, then, and I'll hear you.

Heart. That using them moderately undoes us all; but I'll use them justly, and that you ought to be satisfied with. I always consider a woman, not as the taylor, the shoemaker, the tire-woman, the sempstress, and (which is more than all that) the poet makes her; but I consider her as pure nature has contrived her, and that more strictly than I should have done our old grandmother Eve, had I seen her naked in the garden; for I consider her turned inside out. Her heart well examined, I find there pride, vanity, covetousness, indiscretion; but, above all things, malice: plots eternally forging to destroy one another's reputations, and as honestly to charge the levity of mens' tongues with the scandal; hourly debates how to make poor gentlemen in love with them, with no other intent but to use them like dogs when they have done; a constant desire of doing more mischief, and an everlasting war waged against truth and good-nature.

Con. Very well, sir; an admirable composition, truly!

Heart. Then for her outside, I consider it merely as an outside; she has a thin tiffany covering over just such stuff as you and I are made of. As for her motion, her mien, her airs, and all those tricks, I know they affect you mightily. If you should see your mistress at a coronation, dragging her peacock's train, with all her state and insolence about her, 'twould strike you with all the awful thoughts, that heaven itself could pretend to from you: whereas, I turn the whole matter into a jest, and suppose her strutting in the self-same stately manner, with nothing on but her stays, and her under scanty quilted petticoat.

Con. Hold thy profane tongue; for I'll hear

no more.

Heart. What, you'll love on then?
Con. Yes, to eternity.

Heart. Yet you have no hopes at all?
Con. None.

Heart. Nay, the resolution may be discreet enough; perhaps you have found out some new philosophy, that love, like virtue, is its own reward: So you and your mistress will be as weli content at a distance, as others that have less learning are in coming together.

Con. No; but if she should prove kind at last, my dear Heartfree! [Embracing him. Heart. Nay, prithee don't take me for your mistress; for lovers are very troublesome.

Con. Well, who knows what time may do?
VOL. II.

Heart. And just now he was sure time could do nothing!

Con. Yet not one kind glance in two years, is somewhat strange.

Heart. Not strange at all; she don't like you, that's all the business.

Con. Prithee, don't distract me.

Heart. Nay, you are a good handsome young fellow, she might use you better: Come, will you go see her? perhaps, she may have changed her mind; there's some hopes as long as she's a

woman.

Con. O, 'tis in vain to visit her: sometimes, to get a sight of her, I visit that beast her husband, but she certainly finds some pretence to quit the room as soon as I enter.

Heart. It's much she don't tell him you have made love to her, too; for that's another goodnatured thing usual amongst women, in which they have several ends. Sometimes 'tis to recommend their virtue, that they may sin with the greater security. Sometimes 'tis to make their husbands fight, in hopes they may be killed, when their affairs require it should be so: but most commonly 'tis to engage two men in a quarrel, that they may have the credit of being fought for; and if the lover's killed in the business, they cry, Poor fellow! he had ill luck-and so they go to cards.

Con. Thy injuries to women are not to be forgiven. Look to it, if ever you fall into their hands

Heart. They can't use me worse than they do you, that speak well of them. O ho! here comes the knight.

Enter STR JOHN BRUTE.
Your humble servant, sir John.
Sir John. Servant, sir.

Heart. How does all your family?
Sir John. Pox on my family!

Con. How does your lady? I han't seen her abroad a good while.

Sir John. Do? I don't know how she does, not 1; she was well enough yesterday; I han't been at home to-night.

Con. What, were you out of town?

Sir John. Out of town! No, I was drinking. Con. You are a true Englishman; don't know your own happiness. If I were married to such a woman, I would not be from her a night for all the wine in France.

Sir John. Not from her !-'Oons-what a time should a man have of that!

Heart. Why, there's no division, I hope.

Sir John. No; but there's a conjunction, and that's worse; a pox of the parson-Why the plague don't you two marry! I fancy I look like the devil to you.

Heart. Why, you don't think you have horns, do you?

2 C

Sir John. No, I believe my wife's religion will keep her honest.

Heart. And what will make her keep her religion?

Sir John. Persecution; and therefore she shall have it.

Heart. Have a care, knight; women are tender things.

Sir John. And yet, methinks, 'tis a hard matter to break their hearts.

Con. Fy, fy! you have one of the best wives in the world, and yet you seem the most uneasy

husband.

Sir John. Best wives!- -the woman's well enough; she has no vice, that I know of, but she's a wife, and-damn a wife! if I were married to a hogshead of claret, matrimony would make me hate it.

Heart. Why did you marry then? You were old enough to know your own mind.

Sir John. Why did I marry? I married, because I had a mind to lie with her, and she would not let me.

Heart. Why, did you ravish her?

Sir John. Yes, and so have hedged myself into forty quarrels with her relations, besides buying my pardon: but, more than all that, you must know I was afraid of my soul in those days; for I kept sneaking, cowardly, company; fellows, that went to church, said grace to their meat, and had not the least tincture of quality about them.

Heart. But I think you are got into a better gang, now.

Sir John. Zoons, sir, my lord Rake and I are hand and glove: I believe we may get our bones broke together, to-night; have you a mind to share a frolic?

Con. Not I, truly; my talent lies to softer

exercises.

Sir John. What, a down-bed and a strumpet? A pox of venery, I say. Will you come and

drink with me this afternoon?

Con. I can't drink to-day, but we'll come and sit an hour with you, if you will..

Sir John. Phugh! pox, sit an hour! why can't you drink?

Con. Because I am to see my mistress.
Sir John. Who's that?

Con. Why, do you use to tell?

Con. I'll hold you a guinea you don't make her tell it you.

Sir John. I'll hold you a guinea I do.
Con. Which way?

Sir John. Why, I'll beg her not to tell it me.
Heart. Nay, if any thing does it, that will.
Con. But do you think, sir-

Sir John. 'Oons, sir, I think a woman and a secret are the two impertinentest themes in the universe: therefore, pray let's hear no more of my wife, nor your mistress. Damn them both, with all my heart, and every thing else, that daggles a petticoat, except four generous whores, who are drunk with my lord Rake and I, ten times in a fortnight.

[Exit SIR JOHN. Con. Here's a dainty fellow for you! And the veriest coward, too. But his usage of his wife makes me ready to stab the villain.

Heart. Lovers are short-sighted all their senses run into that of feeling. This proceeding of his is the only thing on earth can make your fortune. If any thing can prevail with her to accept of a gallant, 'tis his ill usage of her. Prithee, take heart, I have great hopes for you: and, since I can't bring you quite off her, I'll endeavour to bring you quite on; for a whining lover is the damned'st companion upon earth.

Con. My dear friend, flatter me a little more with these hopes; for, whilst they prevail, I have Heaven within me, and could melt with joy.

Heart. Pray, no melting yet; let things go farther first. This afternoon, perhaps, we shall make some advance. In the mean while, let's go dine at Locket's, and let hope get you a stomach. [Exeunt.

SCENE II-LADY FANCIFUL's house. Enter LADY FANCIFUL, and MADEMOISELLE. Lady Fan. Did you ever see any thing so importune, mademoiselle?

Madem. Inteed, matam, to say de trute, he want leetel good-breeding.

Lady Fan. Good-breeding! He wants to be caned, mademoiselle: an insolent fellow! and yet, let me expose my weakness, 'tis the only man on earth I could resolve to dispense my favours on, were he but a fine gentleman. Well! did men but know how deep an impression a fine gentleman makes in a lady's heart, they would reduce all their studies to that of good-breeding alone.

Enter Servant.

Serv. Will your ladyship please to dine yet? Lady Fan. Yes, let them serve. [Exit Servant.] Sure this Heartfree has bewitched me, Mademoiselle. You can't imagine how oddly he mixt himself in my thoughts, during my rapture, even now. I vow 'tis a thousand pities he is not more polished; don't you think so?

Bel. Then those wives should cuckold them at a distance. [He rises in a fury, throws his pipe at them, and drives them out. As they run off, CONSTANT and HEARTFREE enter. LADY BRUTE runs against CONSTANT]

Sir John. 'Oons, get you up stairs, you confederating strumpets, you; or I'll cuckold you with a vengeance!

Lady Brute. O Lord, he'll beat us, he'll beat us! Dear, dear Mr Constant, save us.

[Exeunt.

Sir John. I'll cuckold you, with a pox! Con. Heaven! sir John, what's the matter? Sir John. Why, these two gentlewomen did but hear me say I expected you here this afternoon; upon which, they presently resolved to take up the room, o' purpose to plague me and my friends.

Con. Was that all? Why, we should have been glad of their company.

Sir John. Then I should have been weary of yours; for I can't relish both together. They found fault with my smoking tobacco, too; and said men stunk. But I have a good mind-to say something.

Con. No, nothing against the ladies, pray. Sir John. Split the ladies! Come, will you sit down? Give us some wine, fellow. You won't smoke?

Con. No, nor drink neither, at this time; I must ask your pardon.

Sir John. What, this mistress of yours runs in your head! I'll warrant it's some such squeamish minx as my wife, that's grown so dainty of late, she finds fault even with a dirty shirt.

Heart. That a woman may do, and not be dainty neither.

very

Sir John. Pox of the women! let's drink.Come, you shall take one glass, though I send for a box of lozenges to sweeten your mouth after it.

Con. Nay, if one glass will satisfy you, I'll drink it, without putting you to that expence. Sir John, Why, that's honest. Fill some wine, sirrah: so here's to you, gentlemen-a wife's the devil. To your being both married.

[They drink. Heart. O, your most humble servant, sir. Sir John. Well, how do you like my wine? Con. 'Tis very good, indeed.

Heart. 'Tis admirable.

Sir John. Then give us t'other glass. Con. No, pray excuse us now: we'll come another time, and then we won't spare it.

Sir John. This one glass, and no more. Come, it shall be your mistress's health and that's a great compliment from me, I assure you.

Con. And 'tis a very obliging one to me: so give us the glasses.

Sir John. So; let her live. [SIR JOHN coughs in the glass.]

Heart. And be kind.

Con. What's the matter? does it go the wrong way?

Sir John. If I had love enough to be jealous, I should take this for an ill omen: for I never drank my wife's health in my life, but I puked in the glass.

Con. Oh, she's too virtuous to make any reasonable man jealous.

Sir John. Pox of her virtue! If I could but catch her adulterating, I might be divorced from her by law.

Heart. And so pay her a yearly pension, to be a distinguished cuckold.

Enter Servant.

Ser. Sir, there's my lord Rake, colonel Bully, and some other gentlemen, at the Blue Posts, desire your company.

Sir John. Cod's so, we are to consult about playing the devil to-night.

Heart. Well, we won't hinder business.

Sir John. Methinks, I don't know how to leave you two: but, for once, I must make bold. Or look you; may be the conference may'nt last long: so, if you'll wait here half an hour, or an hour; if I don't come then-why then-I won't

come at all.

Heart. [To CONSTANT.] A good modest proposition, truly! [Aside. Con. But let's accept on't, however. Who knows what may happen?

Heart. Well, sir, to shew you how fond we are of your company, we'll expect your return as long as we can.

Sir John. Nay, may be I may'nt stay at all; but business, you know, must be done. So, your servant- -or, hark you, if you have a mind to take a frisk with us, I have an interest with my lord; I can easily introduce you.

Con. We are much beholden to you; but, for my part, I am engaged another way.

Sir John. What! to your mistress, I'll warrant. Prithee, leave your nasty punk to entertain herself with her own lewd thoughts, and make one with us to-night.

Con. Sir, 'tis business that is to employ me. Heart. And me; and business must be done,

you know. Sir John. Aye, women's business, though the world were consumed for it.

[Exit SIR JOHN,

Con, Farewell, beast; and now, my dear friend, would my mistress be but as complaisant as some men's wives, who think it a piece of good breeding to receive the visits of their husband's friend, in his absence!

Heart. Why, for your sake, I could forgive her, though she should be so complaisant to receive something else in his absence, But what way shall we invent to see her?