the Thames had not power to cool? for, Sir, while I was giving her a lift into the boat, I found the floating of her cloaths had left her lovely limbs beneath as bare as a newborn Venus rifing from the fea,

Cler. What an impudent happiness art thou capable of!

At. When he was a little recovered from her fright fhe began to enquire my name, abode, and circumstances, that she might know to whom he owed her life and prefervation. Now, to tell you the truth, I durft not trust her with my real name, left the should from thence have discovered that my father was now actually under bonds to marry me to another woman; fo faith I even told her my name was Freeman, a Gloucestershire gentleman, of a good eftate, just come to town about a chancery fuit. Befides, I was unwilling any accident fhould let my father know of my being yet in England, leit he should find me out, and force me to marry the woman I never faw (for which, you know, he commanded me home) before I have time to prevent it.

Cler. Well, but could you not learn the lady's name all this while?

At. No faith, fhe was inexorable to all intreaties; only told me in general terms, that if what I vowed to her was fincere, the would give me a proof in a few days what hazards she would run to requite my fervices; fo after having told her where the might hear of me, I faw her into a chair, preffed her by the cold rofy fingers, kiffed them warm, and parted.

Cler. What, then you are quite off with the lady, I fuppofe, that you made an acquaintance with in the Park

last week.

At. No, no; not fo neither: one's my Juno, all pride and beauty; but this my Venus, all life, love, and foftnefs. Now, what I beg of thee, dear Clerimont, is this: Mrs, Juno, as I told you, having done me the honour of a civil vifit or two at my own lodgings, I must needs borrow thine to entertain Mrs. Venus in; for if the rival goddeffes fhould meet and clash, you know there would be the devil to do between them.

Cler. Well, Sir, my lodgings are at your fervice: but you must be very private and fober, I can tell you; for

my

my landlady's a Prefbyterian; if fhe fufpects your defign, you're blown up, depend upon't.

At. Don't fear; I'll be as careful as a guilty confcience: but I want immediate poffeffion; for I expect to hear from her every moment, and have already directed her to fend thither. Pr'ythee, come with me.

Cler. 'Faith you must excufe me; I expect fome ladies in the Park that I would not mifs of for an empire: but yonder's my fervant, he shall conduct you.

At. Very good! that will do as well then; I'll fend my man along with him to expect her commands, and call me if the fends: and in the mean time I'll e'en go home to my own lodgings; for, to tell you the truth, I expect a small meffage there from my goddefs imperial. And I am not fo much in love with my new bird in the bush, as to let t'other fly out of my hand for her.

Cler. And pray, Sir, what name does your goddess imperial, as you call her, know you by?

At. O, Sir, with her I pafs for a man of arms, and am called Colonel Stand faft; with my new face, John Freeman, of Flatland Hall, efq. But time flies; I must leave you.

Good luck to

Cler. Well, dear Atall, I'm yoursyou. [Exit At.] What a happy fellow is this, that owes his fuccefs with the women purely to his inconftancy? Here comes another too almost as happy as he, a fellow that's wife enough to be but half in love, and make his whole life a studied idlenefs.

Enter Careless.

So, Careless! you're conftant, I fee, to your morning's faunter. Well, how ftand matters? I hear strange things of thee; that after having railed at marriage all thy life, thou haft refolved to fall into the noofe at last.

Care. I don't fee any great terror in the noofe, as you call it, when a man's weary of liberty: the liberty of playing the fool, when one's turned of thirty, is not of much value.

Cler. Hey-day! Then you begin to have nothing in your head now, but fettlements, children, and the main chance?

› Care. Even fo faith; but in hopes to come at 'em too, I am forced very often to make my way through pills, elixirs, bolus's, ptifans, and gallipots.

Cler

Cler. What, is your mistress an apothecary's widow? Care. No, but he is an apothecary's fhop, and keeps as many drugs in her bed-chamber; fhe has her phyfic for every hour of the day and night--for 'tis vulgar, fhe fays, to be a moment in rude and perfect health. Her bed lined with poppies; the black boys at the feet, that the healthy employ to bear flowers in their arms, fhe loads with diafcordium, and other fleepy potions; her fweet-bags, inftead of the common and offenfive fmells of musk and amber, breathe nothing but the more modifh and falubrious fcents of hart's-horn, rue, and af fafoetida.

Cler. Why, at this rate, fhe's only fit to be the confort of Hippocrates. But pray what other charms has this extraordinary lady ?

Care. She has one, Tom, that a man may relish without being fo deep a physician.

Cler. What's that?

Care. Why, two thousand pounds a year.

Cler. No vulgar beauty, I confefs, Sir. But canft thou for any confideration throw thyfelf into this hofpital, this box of phyfic, and lie all night like leaf-gold upon a pill?

Care. O, dear Sir, this is not half the evil; her humour is as fantastic as her diet; nothing that is English must come near her; all her delight is in foreign impertinencies: her rooms are all of Japan or Perfia, her dress Indian, and her equipage are all monfters: the coachman came over with his horfes, both from Ruffia, Flanders are too common; the rest of her trim are a motley crowd of blacks, tawny, olives, feulamots, and pale blues in fhort, fhe's for any thing that comes from beyond fea; her greatest monsters are those of her own country; and fhe's in love with nothing o'this fide the line, but the apothecaries.

Cler. Apothecaries quotha! why your fine lady, for aught I fee, is a perfect dofe of folly and phyfic; in a month's time she'll grow like an antimonial cup, and a kifs will be able to work with you.

Care. But to prevent that, Tom, I defign upon the wedding-day to break all her gallipots, kick the doctor down ftairs, and force her, inftead of phyfic, to take a

hearty

hearty meal of a swinging rump of boiled beef and carrots, and fo 'faith I have told her.

Clor. That's fomething familiar: are you fo near man and wife?

Care. O nearer; for I fometimes plague her till she hates the very fight of me.

Cler. Ha ha! very good! So being a very troublefome lover, you pretend to cure her of her phyfic by a counter poison.

Care. Right; I intend to see a doctor to prescribe to her an hour of my conversation to be taken every night and morning; and this to be continued till her fever of averfion's over.

Cler. An admirable recipe!

Care. Well, Tom, but how ftands thy own affair? Is Clarinda kind yet?

Cler. Faith I can't say she's abfolutely kind, but she's pretty near it; for fhe's grown fo ridiculoufly ill-humoured to me of late, that if fhe keeps the fame airs a week longer, I am in hopes to find as much ease from her folly, as my conftancy would from her good-nature

But to be plain, I'm afraid I have fome fecret rival in the cafe; for women's vanity feldom gives them courage enough to ufe an old lover heartily ill, till they are first fure of a new one, that they intend to use bet

-ter.

Care. What fays Sir Solomon? He is your friend, I prefume ?

Cler. Yes; at least I can make him fo when I please: there is an odd five hundred pound in her fortune, that he has a great mind should stick to his fingers, when he pays in the rest on't; which I am afraid I must comply with, for he can't eafily marry without his confent. And yet fhe's fo altered in her behaviour of late, that I scarce know what to do-Pr'ythee take a turn and advife me.

Care. With all my heart,

[Exeunt.

The SCENE changes to Sir Solomon Sadlife's House..

Enter Sir Solomon, and Supple his man. Sir Sol. Supple, doft not thou perceive I put a great confidence in thee? I trust thee with my bofom fecrets.

Sup.

Sup. Yes, Sir.

Sir Sel. Ah, Supple! I begin to hate my wife but be fecret.

Sup. I'll never tell while I live, Sir.

Sir Sol. Nay, then I'll truft thee further. Between thee and I, Supple, I have reason to believe my wife hates me too.

Sup. Ah! dear, Sir, I doubt that's no fecret; for to fay the truth, my lady's bitter young and gamefome.

Sir Sol. But can fhe have the impudence, think'it thou, to make a cuckold of a knight, one that was dubbed by the royal fword?

Sup. Alas, Sir, I warrant she has the courage of a countefs; if she's once provoked, fhe cares not what she does in her paffion, if you were ten times a knight, she'd give you dub for dub, Sir.

Sir Sol. Ah! Supple, when her blood's up, I confefs fhe's the devil; and I queftion if the whole conclave of cardinals could lay her. But fuppofe she should refolve to give me a fample of her fex, and make me a cuckold in cool blood?

Sup. Why, if the fhould, Sir, don't take it fo to heart, cuckolds are no fuch moniters now-a-days: in the city you know, Sir, it's fo many honeft men's fortune, that no body minds it there; and at this end of the town a cuckold has as much respect as his wife, for aught I fee; for gentlemen don't know but it may be their own cafe another day, and fo people are willing to do as they would be done by.

Sir Sol. And yet I do not think but my fpoufe is honeft-and think she is not-would I were fatisfied.

Sup. Troth, Sir, I don't know what to think, but in my confcience I believe good looking after her can do her no harm.

Sir Sol. Right, Supple; and in order to it, I'll first demolish her vifiting days. For how do I know but they may be fo many private clubs for cuckoldom?

Sup. Ah, Sir! your worship knows I was always against your coming to this end of the town.

Sir Sol. Thou wert indeed, my honeft Supple: but woman! fair and faithless woman, wormed and worked me to her wishes; like fond Mark Anthony I let my em