Ld. F. O filly! yet his aunt is as fond of him as if the had brought the ape into the world herself.

Brisk. Who, my Lady Toothless; O, fhe's a mortifying fpectacle; fhe's always chewing the cud like an old

ewe.

Cyn. Fy, Mr. Brifk, eringo is for her cough.

L. F. I have feen her take them half-chewed out of her mouth to laugh, and then put them in again-Foh. Ld. F. Foh.

L. F. Then he is always ready to laugh when Sneer offers to fpeak-and fits in expectation of his no jeft, with her gums bare, and her mouth open

Brisk. Like an oyster at low ebb, 'egad-Ha, ha, ha.

Cyn. [Afide.] Well, I find there are no fools fo in'confiderable in themfelves, but they can render other 'people contemptible by exposing their infirmities.'

L.F. Then that t'other great trapping lady-I cannot hit of her name; the old fat fool that paints fo exorbitantly.

Brisk. I know whom you mean--But deuce take me, I cannot hit of her name neither-Paints, d'ye fay? Why, the lays it on with a trowel-Then he has a great beard that bristles through it, and makes her look as if the were plaistered with lime and hair, let me perish.

L. F. Oh, you made a fong upon her, Mr. Brisk. Brisk. He! 'egad, fo I did My Lord can fing it. Cyn. O good, my Lord, let us hear it.'

Brisk. 'Tis not a fong neither-It is a fort of an epigram, or rather an epigrammatic fonnet; I don't know what to call it, but it is fatire.

Lord.

Lord Froth fings.

Ancient Phillis has young graces,
'Tis a strange thing, but a true one;
Shall I tell you how?

She herself makes her own faces,

And each morning wears a new one?
Where's the wonder now?

Sing it, my

Brisk. Short, but there is falt in it; my way of wri

ting, 'egad.

Enter

Enter Footman.

L. F. How. now?

Foot. Your Ladyfhip's chair is come.

L. F. Is nurse and the child in it ?

Foot. Yes, Madam.

L. F. O, the dear creature! let us go fee it.

[Exite

Ld. F. I fwear, my dear, you'll spoil that child with fending it to and again fo often; this is the feventh time the chair has gone for her to-day.

L. F. O-la, I fwear it's but the fixth-and I han't feen her these two hours- -The poor dear creatureI fwear, my Lord, you don't love poor little Sappho, Come, my dear Cynthia, Mr. Brifk, we'll go fee Sappho, though my Lord won't.

Cyn. I'll wait upon your Ladyfhip.

Brisk. Pray, Madam, how old is Lady Sappho ?

L. F. Three quarters, but I fwear he has a world of wit, and can fing a tune already. My Lord, won't you go? Won't you? What, not to fee Saph? Pray, my Lord, come fee little Saph. I knew you could not stay. [Exeunt all but Cynthia.

Cyn. 'Tis not fo hard to counterfeit joy in the ⚫ depth of affliction, as to diffemble mirth in the company of fools-Why fhould I call them fools? The ⚫ world thinks better of them; for thefe have quality ⚫ and education, wit and fine conversation, are received and admired by the world-If not, they like and • admire themselves- And why is not that true wifdom, for it is happinefs? And for ought I know, we have mifapplied the name all this while, and mistaken the thing: fince

If happiness in felf-content is plac'd,

The wife are wretched, and fools only bless'd.

END of the THIRD ACT.

[Exit.

:I

• CYNTHIA.

Heard him loud as I came by the closet-door, and my Lady with him; but the feemed to moderate his paffion.

Mcl.

• Mel. Ay, Hell thank her, as gentle breezes moderate < a fire; but I fhall counter-work her spells, and ride the witch in her own bridle.

Cyn. It is impoffible; fhe'll caft beyond you ftill I'll lay my life it will never be a match,

Cyn. Between you and me.

Mel. Why, fo?

because we are

Cyn. My mind gives me it won't both willing; we each of us ftrive to reach the goal, and hinder one another in the race; I fwear it never. does well when parties are fo agreed-For when people. walk hand in hand, there's neither overtaking nor meeting: we hunt in couples where we both purfue, the fame game, but forget one another; and 'tis be-. 'cause we are so near that we don't think of coming together.

Mel. Hum, 'egad I believe there's fomething in itMarriage is the game that we hunt, and while we 'think that we only have it in view, I don't fee bụt. " we have it in our power.

Cyn. Within reach; for example, give me your hand; you have looked through the wrong end of the perfpective all this while; for nothing has been between us but our fears.

''Mel. I don't know why we fhould not steal out of the house this very moment, and marry one another, without confideration, or the fear of repentance. Pox o'fortune, portion, fettlements, and jointures.

Cyn. Ay, ay, what have we to do with them; you "know we marry for love.

Mel. Love, love, downright very villainous love. Cyn. And he that cannot live upon love deferves to die in a ditch. Here then, I give you my promife, in fpite of duty, any temptation of wealth, your inconftancy, or my own inclination to change

Mel. To run moft wilfully and unreafonably away

' with me this moment, and be married.

Cyn. Hold-Never to marry any body elfe.

Mel. That's but a kind of negative confent-Why,

" you won't baulk the frolic?

E

Cyne

'Cyn. If you had not been fo affured of your own conduct I would not But 'tis but reasonable that fince I confent to like a man without the vile confide❝ration of money, he fhould give me a very evident demonftration of his wit: therefore, let me fee you undermine my Lady Touchwood, as you boafted, and force her to give her confent, and then

Mel. I'll do it.

* Cyn. And I'll do it.

Mel. This very next enfuing hour of eight o'clock, is the laft minute of her reign, unless the Devil affist her in propria perfona.

་

Cyn. Well, if the Devil fhould affist her, and your plot mifcarry.

Mel. Ay, what am I to trust to then?

Cyn. Why, if you give me very clear demonftration that it was the Devil, I will allow for irresistible odds. But if I find it to be only chance, or destiny, or unlucky ftars, or any thing but the very Devil, I am inexorable: only ftill I'll keep my word, and live a maid ⚫ for your fake.

Mel. And you won't die one for your own, fo ftill there's hope.

Cyn. Here is my mother-in-law, and your friend • Careless, I would not have them fee us together yet. [Exeunt."

Enter Careless and Lady Plyant.*

L. P. I fwear, Mr. Careless, you are very alluringand fay fo many fine things, and nothing is fo moving to me as a fine thing. Well, I must do you this justice, and declare in the face of the world, never any body gained fo far upon me as yourfelf; with blufhes I must o'vn it, you have fhaken, as I may say, the very foundation of my honour-Well, fure if I efcape your importunities, I fhall value myself as long as I live, I swear. Care. And defpife me. [Sighing.

L. P. The last of any man in the world, by my purity; now you make me fwear-O, gratitude forbid that I fhould ever be wanting in a respectful acknowledgment of an entire refignation of all my best wishes for the per

*The fourth act, in reprefentation, begins here.

fon

fon and parts of fo accomplished a perfon, whofe merit challenges much more, I am fure, than my illiterate praifes can defcription.

Care. [In a whining tone.] Ah, Heavens, Madam, you ruin me with kindnefs; your charming tongue purfues the victory of your eyes, while at your feet your poer adorer dies.

L. P. Ah! very fine.

Care. [Still whining.] Ah, why are you fo fair, fo bewitching fair? O, let me grow to the ground here, and feaft upon that hand; O, let me prefs it to my heart, my trembling heart, the nimble movement thall inftruct your pulfe, and teach it to alarm defire.-Zoons I am almoft at the end of my cant, if the does not yield quickly. [Afide. L. P. O that's fo paffionate and fine, I cannot hear itI am not fafe if I stay, and must leave you.

Care. And muft you leave me! Rather let me languish out a wretched life, and breathe my foul beneath your feet- I must say the same thing over again, and

cannot help it. [Afide. L. P. I fwear I am ready to languish tooO my honour! Whither is it going? I proteft you have given me the palpitation of the heart.

Care. Can you be so cruel ?

L. P. O rife, I beseech you, fay no more 'till you rife-Why did you kneel fo long? I fwear I was so transported I did not fee itWell, to fhew you how far you have gained upon me, I affure you, if Sir Paul fhould die, of all mankind there's none I'd fooner make my fecond choice.

Care. O Heaven! I cannot out-live this night without your favour-I feel my fpirits faint, a general dampnefs over-spreads my face, a cold deadly dew already vents through all my pores, and will to-morrow wash me for ever from your fight, and drown me in my tomb. L. P. O, you have conquered, fweet, melting, meving Sir, you have conquered-What heart of marble can refrain to weep, and yield to fuch fad fayings.-

[Cries.

Care. I thank Heaven, they are the faddeft that I ever faid-Oh! I fhall never contain laughter.'

E 2

Afide.

L. P.