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SIR HARRY WILDAIR, a gay man of fashion.
BEAU CLINCHER, an ignorant corcomb.
COLONEL STANDARD, attached to Lady Lurewell.
ALDERMAN SMUGGLER, a city dotard.
CLINCHER Junior, a raw blockhead.

DICKY, a pimp.
TOM ERRAND, a porter.

WOMEN.

ANGELICA, attached to Sir Harry Wildair. LADY DARLING, mother to Angelica. PARLY, servant to Lady Lurewell.

VIZARD, a hypocrite, pretending to Lady Lure- LADY LUREWELL, an artful coquette. well.

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Enter VIZARD with a letter, his servant follow

ing.

letter, like yourself, fair on the outside, and foul within; so sent it back unopened.

Viz. May obstinacy guard her beauty till wrinkles bury it! then, may desire prevail to make Viz. ANGELICA send it back unopened! say her curse that untimely pride her disappointed you?

Ser. As you see, sir.

Viz. The pride of these virtuous women is more insufferable than the immodesty of prostitutes-After all my encouragement, to slight me thus!

Ser. She said, sir, that imagining your morals sincere, she gave you access to her conversation; but that your late behaviour in her company has convinced her that your love and your religion are both hypocrisy, and that she believes your

age repents! I'll be revenged the very first opportunity- -Saw you the old lady Darling, her mother?

Ser. Yes, sir, and she was pleased to say much in your commendation.

Viz. That's my cue-An esteem grafted in old age is hardly rooted out; years stiffen their opinions with their bodies, and old zeal is only to be cozened by young hypocrisy. [Aside.] Run to the lady Lurewell's, and know of her maid whether her ladyship will be at home this even

ing. Her beauty is sufficient cure for Angeli- | There are five and thirty strapping officers gone this morning to live upon free quarters in the city.

ca's scorn.

[Exit servant. VIZARD pulls out a book, reads, and walks about.]

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Smug. A law-suit, boy-Shall I tell you? -My ship, the Swan, is newly arrived from St Sebastian, laden with Portugal wines: now, the impudent rogue of a tide-waiter has the face to affirm it is French wines in Spanish casks, and has indicted me upon the statute--Oh, conscience! conscience! these tide-waiters and surveyors plague us more with their French wines, than the war did with French privateersAy, there's another plague of the nation

Enter COLONEL STANDARD.

A red coat and feather.

Viz. Colonel Standard, I'm your humble ser

vant.

Stand. May be not, sir.

Viz. Why so?

Stand. Because I'm disbanded.
Viz. How! Broke?

Stand. This very morning, in Hyde-Park, my brave regiment, a thousand men, that looked like lions yesterday, were scattered, and looked as poor and simple as the herd of deer that grazed beside them.

Smug. Tal, al, deral. [Singing.]I'll have a bonfire this night as high as the monument.

Stand. A bonfire! Thou dry, withered, illnature! had not those brave fellows' swords defended you, your house had been a bonfire ere this about your ears.-Did we not venture our lives, sir?

Smug. And did we not pay for your lives, sir? Venture your lives! I'm sure we ventured our money, and that's life and soul to me.--Sir, we'll maintain you no longer.

Stand. Then your wives shall, old Actæon.

Smug. Oh, lord! Oh, lord! I shall have a son within these nine months born with a leading staff in his hand.- -Sir, you are

that

Stand. What, sir? Smug. Sir, I say Stand. What, sir?

you are

Smug. Disbanded, sir, that's all—I see the lawyer yonder. [Exit. Viz. Sir, I'm very sorry for your misfortune. Stand. Why so? I don't come to borrow money of you. If you're my friend, meet me this evening at the Rummer; I'll pay my foy, dring a health to my king, prosperity to my country, and away for Hungary to-morrow morning. Viz. What! you won't leave us?

Stand. What! a soldier stay here, to look like an old pair of colours in Westminster Hall, ragged and rusty! No, no- -I met yesterday a broken lieutenant; he was ashamed to own that he wanted a dinner, but begged eighteenpence of me to buy a new scabbard for his

sword.

Viz. Oh, but you have good friends, colonel! Stand. Oh, very good friends! My father's a lord, and my elder brother a beau; mighty good friends, indeed!

Viz. But your country may perhaps want your sword again.

Stand. Nay, for that matter, let but a single drum beat up for volunteers between Ludgate and Charing-Cross, and I shall undoubtedly hear it at the walls of Buda.

Viz. Come, come, colonel, there are ways of making your fortune at home--Make your addresses to the fair; you're a man of honour and courage.

Stand. Ay, my courage is like to do me wondrous service with the fair. This pretty cross cut over my eye will attract a duchess-I warrant 'twill be a mighty grace to my oglingHad I used the stratagem of a certain brother colonel of mine, I might succeed.

Viz. What was it, pray?

Stand. Why, to save his pretty face for the women, he always turned his back upon the enemy.- -He was a man of honour for the ladies.

Viz. Come, come, the loves of Mars and Venus will never fail; you must get a mistress.

Stand. Prithee, no more on't-You have awakened a thought, from which, and the kingdom, I would have stolen away at once.-To be plain, I have a mistress.

Viz. And she's cruel?

Stand. No.

Viz. Her parents prevent your happiness? Stand. Not that.

Viz. Then she has no fortune?

Stand. A large one. Beauty to tempt all man

kind, and virtue to beat off their assaults. Oh, | noblest ball at the Bath, or had the finest coach Vizard! such a creature! in the ring? I want news, gentlemen.

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Stand. Why, he behaved himself very bravely.

Viz. Why not? Dost think bravery and gaiety are inconsistent? He's a gentleman of most happy circumstances, born to a plentiful estate; has had a genteel and easy education, free from the rigidness of teachers, and pedantry of schools. His florid constitution, being never ruffled by misfortune, nor stinted in its pleasures, has rendered him entertaining to others, and easy to himself: turning all passion into gaiety of humour, by which he chooses rather to rejoice with his friends, than be hated by any, as you shall see.

Re-enter WILDAIR.

Wild. Ha, Vizard!
Viz. Sir Harry!

Wild. Who thought to find you out of the Rubric so long; I thought thy hypocrisy had been wedded to a pulpit-cushion long ago. Sir, if I mistake not your face, your name is Standard?

Stand. Sir Harry, I'm your humble servant. Wild. Come, gentlemen, the news, the news o' the town, for I'm just arrived.

Viz. Why, in the city-end o' the town, we're playing the knave, to get estates.

Stand. And in the court-end playing the fool, in spending them.

Wild. Just so in Paris. I'm glad we're grown

so modish.

Viz. And hypocrisy for religion.

Wild. A-la-mode de Paris again.

Stand. Faith, sir, these are no news at all. Viz. But pray, sir Harry, tell us some news of your travels.

Wild. With all my heart.-You must know, then, I went over to Amsterdam in a Dutch ship: I there had a Dutch whore for five stivers. I went from thence to Landen, where I was heartily drubbed in the battle with the butt-end of a Swiss musket. I thence went to Paris, where I had half a dozen intrigues, bought half a dozen new suits, fought a couple of duels, and here I am again in statu quo.

Viz. But we heard that you designed to make the tour of Italy; what brought you back so soon?

Wild. That which brought you into the world, and may perhaps carry you out of it; a wo

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Stand. 'Tis done.

Wild. I'll double the stakes-But, gentlemen, now I think on it, how shall we be resolved ?— For I know not where my mistress may be found; she left Paris about a month before me, and I had an account

Stand. How, sir! left Paris about a month before you?

Wild. Yes, sir, and I had an account that she lodged somewhere in St James's.

Viz. How! somewhere in St James, say you?
Wild. Aye, sir, but I know not where, and

Viz. Not one whore between Ludgate and perhaps mayn't find her this fortninght.
Aldgate.

Stand. But ten times more cuckolds than ever.

Viz. Nothing like an oath in the city. Stand. That's a mistake; for my major swore a hundred and fifty last night to a merchant's wife in her bed-chamber,

Wild. Pshaw! this is trifling; tell me news, gentlemen. What lord has lately broke his fortune at the Groom-Porter's? or his heart at Newmarket, for the loss of a race? What wife has been lately suing in Doctor's-Commous for alimony; or what daughter run away with her father's valet? What beau gave the

Stand. Her name, pray, sir Harry. Viz. Aye, aye, her name; perhaps, we know her.

Wild. Her name! Ay; she has the softest, whitest hand that e'er was made of flesh and blood; her lips so balmy sweet

Stand. But her name, sir.

Wild. Then her neck and breast; her breasts
do so heave, so heave.
[Singing.

Viz. But her name, sir; her quality.
Wild. Then her shape, colonel!
Stand. But her name I want, sir.
Wild. Then her eyes, Vizard!

Viz. Pshaw, sir Harry, her name, or nothing.

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man?

Viz. Find her! but then her foot, sir Harry; she dances to a miracle.

Wild. Prithee, don't distract me.

Viz. Well, then, you must know, that this lady is the greatest beauty in town; her name's Angelica: she that passes for her mother is a pri vate bawd, and called the lady Darling; she goes for a baronet's lady, (no disparagement to your honour, sir Harry) I assure you.

Wild. Pshaw, hang my honour; but what

Wild. Prithee, Dick, what makes the colonel street, what house? so out of humour?

Viz. Because he's out of pay, I suppose. Wild. 'Slife, that's true; I was beginning to mistrust some rivalship in the case.

Viz. And suppose there were; you know the colonel can fight, sir Harry.

Wild. Fight! Pshaw-but he cannot dance, ha! We contend for a woman, Vizard. 'Slife, man, if ladies were to be gained by sword and pistol only, what the devil should all we beaus do?

Viz. I'll try him farther. [Aside.] But would not you, sir Harry, fight for this woman you so much admire?

Wild. Fight! Let me consider. I love herthat's true; but, then, I love honest sir Harry Wildair better. The lady Lurewell is divinely charming—right—but, then, a thrust i' the guts, or a Middlesex jury, is as ugly as the devil.

money

Viz. Aye, sir Harry, 'twere a dangerous cast for a beau-baronet to be tried by a parcel of greasy, grumbling, bartering boobies, who would hang you, purely because you're a gentleman. Wild. Aye, but, on t'other hand, I have enough to bribe the rogues with: so, upon mature deliberation, I would fight for her. more of her. Prithee, Vizard, cannot you recommend a friend to a pretty mistress by the bye, till I can find my own? You have store, I ai sure; you cunning poaching dogs make surer game, than we that hunt open and fair. Prithee now, good Vizard.

But no

Viz. Let me consider a little. Now, love and revenge inspire my politics. [Aside. [Pauses, whilst SIR HARRY walks singing.

Viz. Not so fast, sir Harry; you must have my passport for your admittance, and you'll find my recommendation in a line or two will procure you very civil entertainment; I suppose twenty or thirty pieces, handsomely placed, will gain the point: I'll ensure her sound.

Wild. Thou dearest friend to a man in necessity! Here, sirrah, order my coach about to St James's; I'll walk across the park.

[To his servant.

Enter CLINCHER, senior.

Clin. Here, sirrah, order my coach about to St James's; I'll walk across the Park, too—Mr Vizard, your most devoted-Sir, [To WILDAIR. I admire the mode of your shoulder-knot; methinks it hangs very emphatically, and carries an air of travel in it; your sword-knot, too, is most ornamentally modish, and bears a foreign mien. Gentlemen, my brother is just arrived in town; so that, being upon the wing to kiss his hands, I hope you will pardon this abrupt departure of, gentlemen, your most devoted, and most faithful humble servant. [Exit CLINCHER.

Wild. Prithee, dost know him?
Viz. Know him! why, it is Clincher, who was
apprentice to my uncle Smuggler, the merchant
in the city.

Wild. What makes him so gay
Viz. Why, he's in mourning.
Wild. In mourning?

?

Viz. Yes, for his father. The kind old man in Hertfordshire t'other day broke his neck a fox-hunting; the son upon the news has broke his indentures; whipped from behind the corner

into the side-box, forswears merchandise, where account: I long to know whether the fop be kilhe must live by cheating, and usurps gentility, | led or not. where he may die by raking. He keeps his coach and liveries, brace of geldings, leash of mistresses, talks of nothing but wines, intrigues, plays, fashions, and going to the jubilee.

Wild. Ha, ha, ha! how many pounds of pulvil must the fellow use in sweetening himself from the smell of hops and tobacco? Faugh-In my conscience, methought, like Olivia's lover, he stunk of Thames-street. But now for Angelica, that's her name: we'll to the prince's chocolatehouse, where you shall write my passport. Allons! [Exeunt.

SCENE II.-LADY LUREWELL'S lodgings.
Enter LUREWELL, and her maid PARLY.

Lure. Parly, my pocket-book-let me seeMadrid, Paris, Venice, London! Aye, London! They may talk what they will of the hot countries, but I find love most fruitful under this climate-In a month's space have I gained-let me see-imprimis, colonel Standard.

Par. And how will your ladyship manage him?

Lure. As all soldiers should be managed; he shall serve me till I gain my ends; then I'll disband him.

Par. But he loves you, madam.

Lure. Therefore, I scorn him; I hate all that don't love me, and slight all that do; would his whole deluding sex admired me! Thus would I slight them all. My virgin and unwary innocence was wronged by faithless man; but now, glance eyes, plot brain, dissemble face, lie tongue, and be a second Eve to tempt, seduce, and plague the treacherous kind! Let me survey my captives: The colonel leads the van; next Mr Vizard; he courts me out of the practice of piety, therefore is a hypocrite; then Clincher; he adores me with orangerie, and is consequently a fool; then my old merchant, Alderman Smuggler; he's a compound of both; out of which medley of lovers, if I don't make good diversion-What dy'e think, Parly?

Par. I think, madam, I'm like to be very virtuous in your service, if you teach me all those tricks that you use to your lovers.

Lure. You're a fool, child; observe this, that though a woman swear, forswear, lie, dissemble, back-bite, be proud, vain, malicious, any thing, if she secures the main chance, she's still virtuous; that's a maxim.

Par. I cannot be persuaded though, madam, but that you really loved sir Harry Wildair in Paris.

Enter STANDARD.

Oh lord! no sooner talk of killing, but the soldier is conjured up. You're upon hard duty, colonel, to serve your king, your country, and a mistress, too.

Stand. The latter, I must confess, is the hardest; for, in war, madam, we can be relieved in our duty; but, in love, he who would take our post, is our enemy; emulation in glory is transporting, but rivals here intolerable.

Lure. Those, that bear away the prize in the field, should boast the same success in the bedchamber; and, I think, considering the weakness of our sex, we should make those our companions who can be our champions.

Stand. I once, madam, hoped the honour of defending you from all injuries, through a title to your lovely person; but now my love must attend my fortune. My commission, madam, was my passport to the fair; adding a nobleness to my passion, it stampt a value on my love: 'twas once the life of honour, but now its windingsheet, and with it must my love be buried. Par. What! disbanded, colonel? Stand. Yes, Mrs Parly.

Par. Faugh, the nauseous fellow! he smells of poverty already. [Aside. [Aside.

Lure. His misfortune troubles me, because it may prevent my designs.

Stand. I'll choose, madam, rather to destroy my passion by absence abroad, than have it starved at home.

Lure. I'm sorry, sir, you have so mean an opinion of my affection, as to imagine it founded upon your fortune. And, to convince you of your mistake, here I vow, by all that's sacred, I own the same affection now as before. Let it suffice; my fortune is considerable.

Stand. No, madam, no; I'll never be a charge to her I love! The man, that sells himself for gold, is the worst of prostitutes!

Lure. Now, were he any other creature but a man, I could love him. [Aside.

Stand. This only last request I make, that no title recommend a fool, no office introduce a knave, nor coat a coward, to my place in your affections; so, farewell my country, and adieu my love! [Exit.

Lure. Now the devil take thee for being so honourable! here, Parly, call him back; I shall Jose half my diversion else. Now for a trial of skill!

Re-enter STANDARD.

Lure. Of all the lovers I ever had, he was my greatest plage, for I could never make him | Sir, I hope you'll pardon my curiosity. When do uneasy: I left him involved in a duel upon my you take your journey?

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