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Lady D. One at once. Bird. I have brought your Ladyship the finest monkeySyl

. What a filthy thing it is! Lady D. Now I think he looks very humourous and agreeable-I vow, in a white periwig he might do mischief. Could he but talk and take snuff

, there's ne'er a fop in town would go beyond him.

Syl. Most fops would go farther if they did not speak ; but talking, indeed, makes them very often worse company than monkies. Lady D. Thou pretty little picture of man!

How very Indian he looks! I could kiss the dear creature.

Syl. Ah, don't touch him! he'll bite !

Bird. No, Madam, he is the tamest you ever faw, and the least mischievous.

Lady D. Then take him away, I won't have him ; for mischief is the wit of a monkey; and I would not give a farthing for one that would not break me three or four pounds worth of china in a morning. Oh, I am in love with these Indian figures ! -Do but observe what an innocent natural fimplicity there is in all the actions of them.

Chi. These are pagods, Madam, that the Indians worfhip.

Lady D. So far I am an Indian. i Syl. Now, to me they are all monsters.

Lady D. Profane creature !

Chi. Is your Ladyship for a piece of right Flanders lace ?

Lady D. Ummo; I don't care for it, now it is not prohibited.

Ind. Will your Ladyship be pleased to have a pound of fine tea?

Lady D. What, filthy, odious bohea, I suppose ?
Ind. No, Madam, right Kappakawawa.

Lady D. Well, there's something in the very found of that name, that makes it irresistible What is it a pound.

Ind. But fix guineas, Madam. Lady D. How infinitely cheap! I'll buy it all-Situp, take the man in and pay him, and let the rest call again 10-inorrow.

Omnes.

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Omnes. Bless your Ladyship.

[Exeunt Sit. Chi. Ind. and Bird. Lady D. Lord, how feverish I am!--the least motion does to disorder me-do but feel me.

Syl. No, really, I think you are in very good temper. Lady D. Burning, indeed, child,

Ent Servant, Doctor, and Apothecary. Serv. Madam, here's Doctor Bolus, and the Apothecry.

[Exit. Lady D. Oh, Doctor, I'm glad you're come ! one is not sure of a moment's life without you. Dr. How did your Ladyship rest, Madam?

(Feels her pulle. Lady D. Nerer worse, indeed, Doctor: I once fell into a little number, indeed; but then was disturbed by the most odious, frightful dream, that if the fright had not wakened me, I had certainly perished in my fleep, with the apprehenfion.

Dr. A certain fign of a disordered brain, Madam ; but I'll order something that shall compose your Ladyfhip.

Lady D. Mr. Rhubarb, I must quarrel with youyou don't disguise your medicines enough; they taste all phyfic.

Rhub. To alter it more might offend the operation, Madam.

Lady D. I don't care what is offended, so my taste is nor.

Dr. Hark you, Mr. Rhubarb, withdraw the medicine, rather than to make it pleasant: I'll find a reason for the want of its operation. Rhub. But, Sir, if we don't look about us,

fhe'11

grow well upon our hands.

Dr. Never fear that; she's too much a woman of quality to dare to be well without her doctor's opinion.

Rhub. Sir, we have drained the whole catalogue of diseases already; there's not another left to put in her head. Dr. Then I'll make her go them over again.

Enter Carelefs. Care. So, here's the old levee, doctor and apothecary in clofe consultation ! Now will I demolish the quack and his medicines before her face. Mr. Rhu

barb,

to your

you, Sir.

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barb, your servant. Pray, what have you got in your hand there?

Rbub. Only a julep and compofing draught for my Lady, Sir.

Care. Have you so, Sir ? Pray, let me see I'll prescribe to-day. Doctor, you may go-the lady shall take no physic at present bút me.

Dr. Sir

Care. Nay, if you won't believe me i

[Breaks the phials. Lady D. Ah!- [Frighted, and leaning upon Syl.

Dri Come away, Mr. Rhubarb--he'll certainly puc her out of order, and then she'll send for us again.

(Ex. Doctor and Apoth. Care. You see, Madam, what pains I take to come in

favour. Lady D. You take a very preposterous way, I can tell

Care. I can't tell how I succeed; but I am sure I en. deavour right; for I study every morning new imperti. pence to entertain you : for since I find nothing but dogs, doctors, and monkies are your favourites, it is very hard if your Ladyship won't admit me as one of the number.

Lady D. When I find you of an equal merit with my monkey, you shall be in the same itate of favour. I confess, as a proof of your wit, you have done me as much mischief here. But you have not half Pug's judg, ment, nor his fpirit; for the creature will do a world of pleasant things, without caring whether one likes them

Care. Why, truly, Madam, the little gentleman, my rival, I believe, is much in the right on't: and, if you observe, I have taken as much pains of late to disoblige, as to please you.

Lady D. You succeed better in one than t'other, I can tell you, Sir.

Care. I am glad on’t; for if you had not me now and then 10 plague you, what would you

do for

pretence to be chagrine, to faint, have the spleen, the vapours, and all thole modifh disorders that fo nicely distinguish a woman of quality ?

Lady

or not.

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my dear.

Lady D. I am perfectly confounded-Certainly there are some people too impudent for our resentment.

Care. Modefty's a starving virtue, Madam, an old threadbare fashion of the last age, and would fit as oddly upon a lover now, as a picked beard and mustachios.

Lady D. Most astonishing !

Care. I have tried fighing and looking filly a great while, but 'twould not donay, had you had as little wit as good-nature, should have proceeded to dance and Gng. Tell me but how, what face or form can worship you, and behold your votary:

Lady D. Not, Sir, as the Persians do the fun, with your face towards me.

The best proof you can give me of your horrid devotion, is never to see me more. Come,

[Exit with Sylvia. Syl. I'nr amazed so much assurance should not fucceed.

[Exit. Care. All this shan't make me out of love with my virtue-Impudence has ever been a successful quality, and 'twould be hard, indeed, if I should be the first that did not thrive by it.

[Exito SCENE, Clerimont's Lodgings.

Enter Atall, and Finder, bis Man.
At. You are sure you know the house again?

Fin. Ah, as well as I do the upper gallery, Sir! 'Tis Sir Solomon Sadlife's, at the two glass lanthorns, within three doors of my Lord Duke's.

At. Very well, Sir-then take this letter, enquire for my Lady Sadlife's woman, and stay for an answer. Fin. Yes, Sir.

[Exit. At. Well, I find 'tis as ridiculous to propose pleasure in love without variety of mistresses, as to pretend to be a keen sportsman without a good stable of horses. How this lady may prove I can't telt; but if she is not a deedy tit at the bottom; I'm no jockey.

Re-enter Finder.
Fin. Sir, here are two letters for you.
At, 'Who brought them?

Fin. A couple of footmen, and they both defire an answer.

At. Bid them stay, and do you make haste where I ore

dered you.

Fin. Yes, Sir.

[Exit. At. To Col. Standfast-that's Clarinda's hand. -Το Mr. Freeman-that must be my incognita. Ah, I have most mind to open this first ! but if t’other malicious creature should have perverted her growing inclination to me, 'twould put my whole frame in a tremblingHold, I'll guess my fate by degrees--this may give me a glimpse of it. [Reads Clar. létter.) Um-um-umHa! To meet her at my Lady Sadlife's at seven o'clock to-night, and take no manner of notice of my late disowning myself to her--Something's at the bottom of all this-Now to solve the riddle. [Reads t'other letter.) * My cousin Clarinda has told tome things of you that very much alarm me; but I am willing to fufpend iny belief of them till I fee you, which I defire may be at my Lady Sadlife's at seven this evening.”—The devil! the same place !-"As you value the real friendship of your

Incognita." So, now the riddle's out-the rival queens are fairly come to a reference, and one or both of them I must lose, that's pofitive-Hard !

Enter Clerimont. Hard fortune! Now, poor Impudence, what will become of thee? Oh, Clerimont, such a complication of adventures since I saw thee ! such sweet hopes, fears, and unaccountable difficulties, sure never poor dog was surroun. ded with.

Cler. Oh, you are an industrious person! you'll get over them. But, pray, let's hear.

At. To begin, then, in the clinax of my misfortunes : in the first place, the private lodgings that my Incognita appointed to receive me in, prove to be the very indivi. dual habitation of my other inistrers, whom (to complete the blunder of my ill luck) the civilly introduced in per-fon, to recommend me to her better acquaintance.

Cler. Ha, ha! Death ! how could you stand thein both together?

At. The old way—buff-I stuck like a burr to my name of Freeman, address’d my incognita before the other's face, and with a most unmov'd good-breeding, harmlessly faced her down I had never seen her in my life before.

Clera

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