with this girl, Sir, under the penalty of her whole fortune -There's a piece of work for you! Sir Ro. But has he no name, Charles ? he called, I fay? What is Bel. You can't call him by any name, that's too bad for him-But if I don't draw his gown over his ears-why fay, I am a bad guardian, Sir-that's all. Sir Ro. If this fhould be apocryphal now? Sir Ro. A fetch! a fib, Charles! to conceal fome honest man's daughter, that you have stolen, child! Bel. And brought into a fober family, to have the entire poffeffion of, without lett, or moleftation ?-Why, what a deal of money have you lavished away, Sir, upon the education of a fool? Sir Ro. There is but that one circumstance to bring thee off- -For to be fure, her affairs might have been as well fettled in private lodgings-And befides, Charles, a world of troublesome questions, and lying answers, might have been faved. But take care, boy; for I may be in the fecret before thou art aware on't- -A great rogue, Charles! [Exit. Bel. So! The mine's fprung, I fee- and Fidelia has betrayed me. And yet, upon cooler thoughts, fhe durft not break her word with me; for though fhe's a woman, the devil has no part in her- Now will I be hanged, if my loving fifter is not at the bottom of all this -But if I don't out-plot her! Let me fee! Ay-Faddle fhall be called in-for the fool loves mifchief like an old maid; and will out-lie an attorney. Enter Rofetta. Rofet. What, mufing, brother!-Now would I fain know, which of all the virtues has been the subject of your contemplations? Bel. Patience, patience, child- for he that has connection with a woman, let her be wife, miftrefs, or fifter, must have patience. Rofet. The most useful virtue in the world, brother! -and Fidelia fhall be your tutorefs-I'll hold fix to four, that the leads you into the practice on't with more dexterity, than the best philofopher in England-She fhall hall teach it, and yet keep the heart without hope, brother. Bel. Why that's a contrary method to yours, fifter;for you give hope, where you mean to try patience most -and I take it, that you are the abler mistress in the art. Why every coxcomb in town has been your scholar, child. Rofet. Not to learn patience-there's your mistake now; for it has been my conftant practice, to put my fcholars out of all patience. What are you thinking of, brother? Bel. Why, I was thinking, child, that 'twould be a question to puzzle a conjurer, what a coquette was made for? Rofet. Am I one, brother? Bel. Oh, fie, sister! Rofet. Lord! I, that am no conjurer, can tell you that A coquette!-Oh!-Why, a coquette is a fort of beautiful defert in wax-work, that tempts the fool to an entertainment, merely to baulk his appetite.And will any one tell ine, that nature had no hand in the making a coquette, when she answers fuch wife and neceffary purposes?-Now, pray, Sir, tell me what a rake was made for? Bel. Am I one, fifter? Refet. Oh, fie, brother! Bel. Nay, child, if a coquette be fo useful in the fyftem of morals, a rake must be the most horrid thing in nature- He was born for her destruction, child—she lofes her being at the very fight of him--and drops plump into his arms, like a charmed bird into the mouth of a rattle-fnake. Rofet. Blefs us all! are brother and fiftér! What a mercy it is, that we Bel. Be thankful for't night and morning upon your knees, huffy for I fhould certainly have been the ruin of you. But come, Rofetta'tis allowed then that we are rake and coquette-And now, do you know, that the effential difference between us lies only in two wordspetticoat and breeches. Rofet. Ay, make that out, and you'll do fomething. Bel. Pleafüre, child, is the bufinefs of both-and the the fame principles, that make me a rake, would make you no better than you should be were it not for that tax upon the petticoat, called Scandal. Your wishes are restrained by fear; mine, authorised by custom : and while, you are forced to fit down with the starved comfort of making men fools, I am upon the wing to make girls women, child. Rofet. Now, as I hope to be married, I would not be a rake for the whole world-unlefs I were a man; and then I do verily believe, I should turn out just such another.. Bel. That's my dear fifter! Give me your hand, child. Why now thou art the honefteft girl in St James's parish- -and I'll truft thee for the future with all my fecrets I am going to Fidelia, child. Rofet. What a pity 'tis, brother, that he is not fuch a coquette as I am? Bel. Not fo neither, my fweet fifter; for, faith, the conqueft would be too easy to keep a man conftant. Rofet. Civil creature! Bel. But here comes the Colonel -Now to our feve ral vocations- -You to fooling, and I to bufinefs- Enter the Colonel. [Exit. Col. To meet you alone, Madam, is a happinessRofet. Pray, Colonel, are you a rake? Methinks I would fain have you a rake. Col. Why fo, Madam ?was fond of. 'Tis a character I never Rofet. Because I am tired of being a coquette-and my brother fays, that a rake can transform one, in the flirt of a fan. Col. I would be any thing, Madam, to be better in your opinion. Rofet. If you were a rake now, what would you fay to me? Col. Nothing, Madam -I would. [Snatches her hand, and kiffes it. Rofet. Blefs me !is the man mad!-I only asked what you would say to me? Col. རྞ Col. I would fay, Madam, that you are my life, my foul, my angel!That all my hopes of happiness are built upon your kindness ! Rofet. Very well!-keep it up! Col. That your fmiles are brighter than virtue, and your chains fweeter than liberty! Rofet. Upon my word! Col. Oh, Rofetta! heart that loves you? -How can you trifle fo with a Rofet. Very well!--Pathetic too! Col. Nay, nay, this is carrying the jeft too far-If you knew the fituation of my mind, you would not torture me thus. Rofet. Situation of the mind!Very geographi- cal! Col. Pihah! -This is not in your nature. Col. No, Madam,- -Faddle can divert at an easier price. you this way Rofet. And jealoufy!All the viciffitudes of love! -Incomparable! Col. You will force me to tell you, Madam, that I can bear to be your jeft no longer. Rofet. Or thus Am I the jeft of her, I love! Forbid it all the gods above! -It may be rendered either way-But I am for the rhyme I love poetry vaftly-Don't you love poetry, Colonel? Col. This is beyond all patience, Madam. [Very angrily. Refet. Blefs me!-Why, you have not been in earnest, Colonel?Lord, Lord, how a filly woman may be mistaken! Col. Shall I afk you one serious question, Madam? Rofet. Why, I find myfelf fomewhat whimfical this morning-and I don't care if I do take a little stuffbut don't let it be bitter. Col. Am I to be your fool always, Madam, or, like other other fools, to be made a husband of, when my time's out? Rofet. Lord, you men-creatures do ask the ftrangest queftions!-Why how can I poffibly fay now, what I fhall do ten years hence? Col. I am anfwered, Madam. Ser. Mr. Faddle, Madam. Enter Faddle. [Walking in diforder. [Exit. Fad. Oh, my dear, foft toad!And the Colonel, by all that's fcarlet !-Now pox catch me, if nature ever formed fo complete a couple-fince the first pair in Paradise. Rofet. 'Tis well you are come, Faddle-Give me fome. thing to laugh at, or I fhall die with the spleen. Col. Ay, Sir, make the lady laugh this moment, or I fhall break your bones, rafcal. Fad. Lord, Colonel!-What!-What!-hah!— Col. Make her laugh this inftant, I fay, or I'll make you cry-Not make her laugh, when the bids you!-Why, firrah!- -I have made her laugh this half hour, without bidding. Rofet. Ha, ha, ha! Fad. Why there, there, there, Colonel!-She does, fhe does, he does! Enter young Belmont, and Fidelia. Bel. Why, how now, Faddle! matter, pr'ythee? Col. A rafcal!. -What has been the Not make a lady laugh! Fad. What, Charles, and my little Fiddy, too!-Stand by me a little -for this robuft Colonel has relaxed my very finews, and quite tremulated my whole fyftem. I could not have collected myfelf, without your presence. Fid. And was he angry with you, Faddle? Fad. To a degree, my dear-But I have forgot itI bear no malice to any one in the world, child. Rofet. Do you know, Faddle, that I have a quarrel with you too? Fad. You, child!-Heh! heh!-What, I am inconftant, I fuppofe-and have been the ruin of a few families this winter, hah, child?-Murder will out, though it's done in the centre- But come, vicace! Let the C ftorm |