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your brain.

Cyn. Prodigious ! I wonder want of fleep, and so much love, and fo much wit as your Ladyship has, did not tura

L.F. O my dear Cynthia, you must not rally your frieudbut really, as you fiy, I wonder too but theni I had a way. For between you and I, I had whimsies and vapours, but I gave them vent. Cyn. How, pray

Madam? L. F. O, I writ, writ abundantly Do you never write ?

Cyn. Write, what?

L. F Sonys, elegies, fatires, encomiums, panegyrics, lampoons, plays, or heroic poems.

Cyn. O lord, not I, Madam ; I am content to be a courteous reader.

L. F. O inconfiftent! in love, and not write!. If my Lord and I had been both of your temper, we had ne: ver come together blefs ine! what a fadiching would that have been, if my Lord and I thould never have met !

oro como Cyn. Then neither 'my Lord nor you would ever have met with your match, on my conscience,

L.F. Ó' my conscience 110 more we should; thona fay'st right--for sure my Lord Froth is as fine a gentleman, and as much a man of quality! Ah! 90thing at all of the common 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 fo ignorant. At least I won't own it, to be troubled with your

instructions

[ Afide. L. F. Nay, I beg your pardon ; 'but being derived from the Greek, I thought you might have escaped the etymology.--But I am the more anazed, 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.

L. F. I vow Mellefont's a pretty gentleman, but methinks he wants a manner.

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now.

Cyn. A manner! What's that, Madam ?

L. F. Some distinguishing quality, as for example, the bel air or brillant of Mr. Brikk; the solemnity, yet complaisance of my Lord, or something of his own that fhould 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 for. mality, for which I like him

Here he comes. Enter Lord Froth, Mellefont, and Brilk. Įmpertinent creature ! I could almost be angry with her

[Afde. L. F. My Lord, I have been telling Cynthia how much I have been in love with you; I swear I have ; I'm not afhamed to own it now; Ah! it makes my heart leap, I vow I figh when I think on't :-My dear Lord! ha, ha, ha, do you remember, my Lord? (Squeezes bim by the band, looks kindly on him, igbs,

and then laughs out, Ld. F. Pleafant 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.

L.F. O that tongue, that dear deceitful tongue! that charming foftness in your mien and your expression, and then your bow ! Good, my Lord, bow as you did when I gave you my picture; here, fi ppose this my picture[Gives him a pocket glafs.] Pray inind, my Lord; ah! he bows charmingly, Nay, my Lord, you shan't kiss it so much ; I mall grow jealous, I vow now.

(He bozus profoundly lov, tben kifles the glass. LI, F. I saw myself there, and killed it for your fake.

L. F. Ah! gallantry to the laft 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.

L. F. O prettily turned again ; let me die but you have a great deal of wit. Mr. Mellefunt, don't you think Mr. Brilk has a world of wit?

Mel. O. yes, Madam. Brisk. O dear, Madam L. F. An infinite deal!

2

Brisk. Oh Heavens, Madam
L. F. More wit than any body,
Brisk. I am everlastingly your humble servant, deuce
take me, Madam.

L. f. Don't you think us a happy couple?

Cyn. I vow, my Lord, I think you che happieft couple in the world for you are not only happy in one

another and when you are together, but happy in
yourselves, and by yourselves.'
Ld. F. I hope Mellefont will make a good hufband too
Cyn. 'Tis my interest to believe he will, my Lord.

Ld. F. D'ye think he'll love you as well as I do my wife? I am afraid not.

Cym. I believe he'll love me better.

L. F. Heav'ns ! that can never be ; but why do you think so?

Gyn. Because he has not fo much reafon to be fond of himself.

Ld. F. O your humble servant for that, dear Madam. Well, Meltetont, you'll be a happy creature.

Mel. Ay, my Lord, I that have the fame reason for my happiness that your Lordfhip has; I fhull think myfeif happy.

Ld. F. Ah, that's all.

Brisk. [T. Lady Frorh.) Your Larly ship is in the right; but 'egad I'm wholly turned into facire. I con. fels I write but feldom, but when I do wkeen lambics, Pegad. But my Lord was telling 'ine, your Ladythip has made an effay toward an lieroic poein.

L. F. Did my Lord rell 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 you won't guretsThe Shabub, la, la, ha.

Brisk. Because my Lord's title's Froth, 'egnd; ha, wa, ha, ha, deuce take me, very à propos, and Parprizing, ha, ha, ha.

L. F. He, ay, is nor it? aw. And when I call my Lord Spumofa'; and my felf, what do ye think I calf my. self?

Brisk. Lactilla, may be 'Egad I cannot tell.
L. F. Biddy, that's att; just my own name.

Brisk. Biddy! 'Egad very prettyDeuce take me if your Ladyship has not the art of fuprizing the most naturally in the world. I hope you'll make me happy in communicating the poem.

L. F. O, you must be my confident, I must ask your adyice,

Brisk. I'm your humble servant, let me perishI presume your Ladyship has read Boffu?

L. F. O yes, and Rapine, and Dacier upon Aristotle and Horace-My Lord, you must not be jealous, I'm communicating all to Mr. Brisk.

Ld. F. No, no, I'll allow Mr. Brisk; have you nothing about you to thew him, my dear? L. F. Yes, I believe I have.

-Mr. Brisk, come will you go into the next room, and there I'll shew you what I have.

[Exeunt L. Froth and Brisk. Ld. F. I'll walk a turn in the garden, and come to you.

[Exit Ld. Froth. Mel. You are thoughtful, Cynthia. Cyn. I am thinking, tho' marriage makes man and wife one flesh, it leaves them ftill two fools; and they become more conspicuous by setting off one another.

Mel. That's only when two fools meet, and their fol. lies 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

you of drawing takes, and giving over in time? Mel. No, hang it, that's not endeavouring to win, because it is poffible we may lose ;, fince we have shuffled and cut, let's 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 entertaiment. - What's here, the music!--Oh, my Lord has promised the

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think you

com.

company a new song, we'll get them to give it us by ' the way. [AZuficians crossing the stage.] Pray let us have

the favour of you, to practise the fong before the com‘pany hear it.

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S O N G.
' Cynthia frowns whene'er I woo her,
“ Yer she's vex'd if I give over;
• Much she fears I should undo her,
" But much more to lofe her lover :

Thus, in doubting, she refuses ;
• And not winning, thus she loses.
• Pr’ythee, Cynthia, look behind you,

Age and wrinkles will o'ertake you ;
" Then too late desire will find you,
• When the power must forsake you:
* Think, o think o'th' fad condition,

To be past, yet with fruition.' Mel. You shall have

my
thanks below.

[To the music, they go out.
Enter Sir Paul Plyant and Lady Plyant.
Sir P. Gads bud ! I am provoked into a fermentation,
as my Lady Froth says; was ever the like read of in
story?

L. P. Sir Paul, have patience; let me alone to rattle

LP

him up:

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Sir P. Pray your Ladyship give me leave to be angry

-I'll rattle him up, I warrant you, I'll firk him with a certiorari.

L. P. You firk him ! I'll firk him myself, Pray, Sir Paul, hold you contented.

• Cyn. Bless me, what makes my father in such a par6 fion !

I never faw him thus before.'
Sir. P. Hold yourself contented, my Lady Plyant,-
I find passion coming upon me by inflation, and I cannot
fubmit

as formerly, therefore give way.
L. P. How now! will you be pleased to retire, and

Sir P. No marry will I not be pleased; I am pleased
to be angry, that's my pleasure at this time.
Mel. What can this mean!
3

L. P.

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