your friends.

me by an affected resignation of her pretensions to him I'll disappoint her, I won't know him.

Syl. Cousin, pray, come forward ; this is the gentle. man I am so much obliged to-Sir, this lady is a relation of mine, and the perfon we are speaking of. At. I shall be proud to be better known among any of

[Salutes ber. Clar. Soh! he takes the hint, I see, and seems not to know me neither : I know not what to think. - I am confounded! I hate both him and her. How unconcerned he looks! Confusion ! he addresses her before my face.

[Afide. Lady Sadlife peeping in. I.ady Sad. What do I fee? The pleasant young fellow that talked with me in the park just now! This is the luckiest accident ! I must know a little more of him,

[Retires. Syl. Coufin, and Mr. Freeman, I think I need not make any apology--you both know the occafion of my leaving you together in a quarter of an hour l'il wait on you again.

[Exit Syl. At. So, I'm in a hopeful way now, faith ; but but's the word : I'll stand it.

Clar. Mr. Freeman! So, iny gentleman has changed his name too! How harmless he looks I have my senses sure, and yet the demureness of that face looks as if he had a mind to persuade me out of them. I could find in my heart to humour his affurance, and see how far he'll carry it-Won't you please to fit, Sir ? (They hit.

Åt. What the devil can this mean?-Sure she has a mind to counterface me, and not know me tou With all my heart: if her ladyship won't know me, I'm sure 'tis not my business at this time to know her. [ Africe.

Clar. Certainly that face is cannon proof. [Afde.

At. Now for a formal speech, as if I had never seen her in my life before. (Aside.] Madam-a hem! Madam, -I--a hem! Clar. Curse of that steady face.

[ Afide. At. I say, Madam, fince I am an utter stranger to you, I am afraid it will be very difficult for me to offer you more arguments than one to do me a friendship with

your cousin; but if you are, as she seems to own you, her real B 3


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friend, I prefume you can't give her a better proof of your being so, than pleading the cause of a fincere and humble lover, whose tender wifhes never can propose to tute of peace in life without her. Clar. Umph! I'm choaked.

[Afde. At. She gave me hopes, that when I had fatisfied

you of

my birth and fortune, you would do me the honour to let me know her name and family.

Clar. Sir, I must own you are the moft perfect master of your art, that ever entered the lists of affurance.

At. Madam!

Clar. And I don't doubt but you'll find it a much easier task to impose upon my cousin, than me.

At. Impose, Madam! I should be sorry any thing I have faid could disoblige you into such hard thoughts of jne. Sure, Madam, you are under some misinformation.

Clar. I was indeed, but now my eyes are open; for, *till this minute, I never knew that the gay Colonel Stande fatt, was the demure Mr. Freeman,

At. Col. Standfaft! This is extremely dark, Madam.

Clar. This jeft is tedious, Sir-impudence grows dull, when 'tis so very extravagant.

At. Madam, I am a gentleman--but not yet wifeenough, I find, to account for the humours of a fine lady.

Clar. Troth, Sir, on second thoughts I begin to be a little better reconciled to your affurance; 'cis in some fort modesty to deny yourself; for to own your perjuries to my face, had been an insolence transcendently provoking,

At. Really, Madam, my not being able to apprehend one word of all this is a great inconvenience to my affair with your cousin: but if you will first do me the honour to make me acquainted with her name and family, I don't much care if I do take a little pains afterwards to come to a right understanding with you.

Elar. Come, come, since you see this affurance will do you no good, you had better put on a simple look, and generously confess your frailties: the same flyness that deceived me first, will still find me woman enough to pardon you.

At. That bite won't do. [Afide.] Sure, Madam, you mistake me for some other person.


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Clar. Insolent! audacious villain ! I am not to have my senses then! At. No.

[Afide Clar. And you are resolved to stand it to the last! At. The last extremity.

[Afide, Clar. Well, Sir, since you are so much a stranger to Colonel Stand faft, I'll tell you where to find him, and tell him this from me; I hate him, scorn, deteft, and loath him : I never meant him but at beft for my diversion, and should he ever renew his dull addresses to ine, I'lí have him used as his vain infolence deserves. Now, Sir, I have no more to say, and I desire you would leave the house immediately.

At. I would not willingly disoblige you, Madam, but 'ris impossible to ftir ’till I have seen your coufin, and cleared myself of these strange aspersions.

Clar. Don't flatter yourself, Sir, with so vain a hope, for I must tell you, once for all, you've seen the last of her; and if you won't be gone, you'll oblige me to have you forced away.

At, I'll be even with you. [Afide.] Well, Madam, fince I find nothing can prevail upon your cruelty, I'll take my leave : but as you hope for justice on the man that wrongs you, at least be faithful to your lovely friend, And when you have named to her my utmost guilt, yet paint my passion as it is, fincere. Tell her what tortures I endured in this fevere exclusion from her fight, that 'till my innocence is clear to her, and the again receives me into mercy,

A madman's frenzy's heav'n to what I feel;
The wounds you give 'tis the alone can heal. [Exit.

Clar. Most abandoned impudence! And yet I know not which vexes me most, bis out-facing my senses, or his infolent owning his passion for my cousin to my face : 'tis impossible she could put him upon this, it must be all his own; but be it as it yill, by all that's woman I'll have revenge.

Re-enter Atall and Lady Sadlife at the other side.
At. Hey-day! is there no way down stairs here? Death!
I can't find my way out! This is the oddest house

Lady Sad. Here he is—I'll venture to pass by him.
At. Pray, Madam, which is the nearest way out?


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Lady Sad. Sir, out

A. Oh, my stars! is't you, Madain, this is fortunate indeed -I beg you'll tell me, do you live here, Madam?

Lady Sad. Not very far off, Sir: but this is no place to talk with you alone-indeed. I must beg your pardon.

At. By all those kindling charms that fire my soul, no consequence on earth shall make me quit my hold, sill you've given me some kind assurance that I Mall see you again, and speedily : 'egad I'll have one out of the family at least.

Lady Sad. Oh, good, here's company!

At. Oh, do not rack me with delays, but quick, bei fore this dear fhort-lived opportunity's loft, inform me where you live, or kill me: to part with this soft white hand is ten thousand daggers to my heart.

(Kifing it eagerly. Lady Sad. Oh, lud! I am going home this minute ; and if you should offer to dog my chair, I proteft Iwas ever such usage lord -sure! Oh follow me down then.

[Exeunt. Re-enter Clarinda, and Sylvia. Syl. Ha, ha, ha!

Clar. Nay, you may laugh, Madam, but what I tell you is true.

Syl. Ha, ha, ha!
Clar. You don't believe then ?

Syl. I do believe, that when some women are inclined to like a man, nothing more palpably discovers it, than their railing at himn; ha, ha!-Your pardon, coufin ; you know you laughed at me just now upon the same occasion.

Clar. The occasion's quite different, Madam ; I hate him. And, once more I tell you, he's a villain, you're imposed on. He's a colonel of foot, his regiment's now in Spain, and his name's Standfast.

Syl. But pray, good coufin, whence had you this intel. ligence of him?

Clar. From the same place that you had your false account, Madam, his own mouth.

Syl. What was his business with you? Clar. Much about the fame, as his bufiness with you love.


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Syl. Love! to you

u! Clar. Me, Mádamn! Lord, what am I? Old, or a monster! Is it so prodigious that a man should like me?

Syl. No! but I'm amazed to think, if he had liked you, he should leave you so soon, for me!

Clar. For you ! leave me for you! No, Madam, I did not tell you that neither! ha, ha!

Syl. No! What made you fo violently angry with him then? Indeed, cousin, you had better take fome other fairer way; this artifice is much too weak to make me break with him. But, however, to let you see I can be still a friend; prove him to be what you say he is, and my engagements with him shall soon be over.

Clar. Look you, Madam, not but I flight the tenderest of his addresses ; but to convince you that my vanity was not mistaken in him, I'll write to him by the name of Colonel Standfast, and do you the same by that of Freeman; and let's each appoint him to meet us at my Lady Sadlife's at the same time : if these appear two different men, I think our dispute's easily at an end ; if but

one, and he does not own all I've said of him to your face, I'll make you a very humble curt'ly, and beg your pardon.

Syl. And if he does own it, I'll make your ladyfhip the same reverence, and beg yours.

Enter Clerimont.
Glar. Piha! he here !

Cler. I am glad to find you in such good company,

Clar. One's seldom long in good company, Sir..

Cler. I am sorry mine has been so troublesome of late ; but I value your ease at too high a rate, to disturb it.

[Going Syl. Nay, Mr. Clerimont, upon my word you shan't ftir. Hark you-[Whispers.) Your pardon, cousin.

Clar. I'muft not lose him neither-Mr. Clerimont's way is, to be severe in his construction of people's mean. ing.

Syi, I'll write my letter, and be with you, cousin. (Ex.

Cler. It was always my principle, Madam, to have an humble opinion of my merit; when a woman of sense frowns upon me, I ought to think I deserve it.


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