Enter Sir SAMPSON.

Sir S. I have not been honoured with the commands of a fair lady a great while-Odd, madam, you have revived me-not since I was five and thirty.

Ang. Why, you have no great reason to complain, Sir Sampson; that's not long ago.

Sir S. Zooks, but it is, madam, a very great while; to a man that admires a fine woman as much as I do.

Ang. You're an absolute courtier, Sir Samp

son.

Sir S. Not at all, madam. Odsbud, you wrong me: I am not so old neither, to be a bare courtier, only a man of words. Odd, I have warm blood about me yet, and can serve a lady any way. -Come, come, let me tell you, you women think a man old too soon, faith and troth you do.Come, don't despise fifty; odd, fifty, in a hale constitution, is no such contemptible age!

Ang. Fifty a contemptible age! not at all: a very fashionable age, I think-I assure you, I know very considerable beaux, that set a good face upon fifty-Fifty! I have seen fifty in a side-box, by candle-light, out-blossom five and twenty.

Sir S. Outsides, outsides; a pize take them, mere outsides! Hang your side-box beaux; no, I'm none of those, none of your forced trees, that pretend to blossom in the fall, and bud when they should bring forth fruit. I am of a long-lived race, and inherit vigour. None of my ancestors married till fifty; yet they begot sons and daughters till fourscore. I am of your patriarchs, I, a branch of one of your antediluvian families, fellows that the flood could not wash away. Well, madam, what are your commands? Has any young rogue affronted you, and shall I cut his throat, or

Ang. No, Sir Sampson, I have no quarrel up. on my hands-I have more occasion for your conduct than your courage at this time. To tell you the truth, I'm weary of living single, and want a husband.

Sir S. Odsbud, and it is a pity you should!Odd, would she would like me! then I should hamper my young rogues: odd, would she would; faith and troth, she's devilish handsome! [Aside.] -Madam, you deserve a good husband! and 'twere pity you should be thrown away upon any of these young idle rogues about the town. Odd, there's ne'er a young fellow worth hanging-that is, a very young fellow-Pize on them, they never think beforehand of any thing-and if they commit matrimony, 'tis as they commit murderout of a frolic; and are ready to hang themselves, or to be hanged by the law, the next morning.Odso, have a care, madam.

Ang. Therefore I ask your advice, Sir Sampson. I have fortune enough to make any man easy that I can like; if there was such a thing as a young agreeable man, with a reasonable stock of

good-nature and sense- -for I would neither have an absolute wit, nor a fool.

Sir S. Odd, you are hard to please, madam: to find a young fellow that is neither a wit in his own eye. nor a fool in the eye of the world, is a very hard task. But, faith and troth, you speak very discreetly; for I hate both a wit and a fool.

Ang. She that marries a fool, Sir Sampson, forfeits the reputation of her honesty or understanding; and she that marries a very witty man, is a slave to the severity and insolent conduct of her husband. I should like a man of wit for a lover, because I would have such a one in my power: but I would no more be his wife than his enemy; for his malice is not a more terrible consequence of his aversion, than his jealousy is of his love.

Sir S. None of old Foresight's sibyls ever uttered such a truth. Odsbud, you have won my heart. I hate a wit; I had a son that was spoilt among them; a good hopeful lad, till he learnt to be a wit-and might have risen in the state.— But, a pox on't, his wit ran him out of his money, and now his poverty has run him out of his wits.

Ang. Sir Sampson, as your friend, I must tell you, you are very much abused in that matter— he's no more mad than you are.

Sir S. How, madam! would I could prove it! Ang. I can tell you how that may be donebut it is a thing that would make me appear to be too much concerned in your affairs.

Sir S. Odsbud, I believe she likes me! [Aside.]

-Ah, madam, all my affairs are scarce worthy to be laid at your feet; and I wish, madam, they were in a better posture, that I might make a more becoming offer to a lady of your incomparable beauty and merit.-If I had Peru in one hand, and Mexico in t'other, and the Eastern empire under my feet, it would make me only a more glorious victim, to be offered at the shrine of your beauty.

Ang. Bless me, Sir Sampson, what's the mat

ter?

Sir S. Odd, madam, I love you-and if you would take my advice in a husband

Ang. Hold, hold, Sir Sampson; I asked your advice for a husband, and you are giving me your consent. I was indeed thinking to propose something like it in jest, to satisfy you about Valentine: for, if a match were seemingly carried on between you and me, it would oblige him to throw off his disguise of madness, in apprehension of losing me; for, you know, he has long pretended a passion for me.

Sir S. Gadzooks, a most ingenious contrivance, if we were to go through with it! But why must the match only be seemingly carried on? Odd, let it be a real contract.

Ang. O fie, Sir Sampson, what would the world

say?

Sir S. Say? They would say you were a wise woman, and I a happy man. Odd, madam, I'll love you as long as I live, and leave you a good jointure when I die.

Ang. Ay, but that is not in your power, Sir Sampson, for when Valentine confesses himself in his senses, he must make over his inheritance to his younger brother.

Sir S. Odd, you're cunning, a wary baggage. Faith and troth, I like you the better. But, I warrant you, I have a proviso in the obligation in favour of myself. Body o'me, I have a trick to turn the settlement upon the issue male of our two bodies begotten. Odsbud, let us find children, and I'll find an estate !

Ang. Will you? Well, do you find the estate, and leave the other to me!

you.

And will

Sir S. O rogue! but I'll trust you consent? Is it a match then? Ang. Let me consult my lawyer concerning this obligation; and, if I find what you propose practicable, I'll give you my answer.

Sir S. With all my heart. Come in with me, and I'll lend you the bond. You shall consult your lawyer, and I'll consult a parson. Odzooks, I'm a young man; Odzooks, I'm a young man, and I'll make it appear-Odd, you're devilish handsome. Faith and troth, you're very handsome: and I'm very young, and very lusty. Odsbud, hussy, you know how to choose, and so do I. Odd, I think we are very well met. Give me your hand; odd, let me kiss it; 'tis as warm and as soft-as what?-odd, as t'other hand!-Give t'other hand; and I'll mumble them, and kiss them, till they melt in my mouth.

me

Ang. Hold, Sir Sampson-You're profuse of your vigour before your time. You'll spend your estate before you come to it.

Sir S. No, no, only give you a rent-roll of my possessions-Ah! baggage!—I warrant you for a little Sampson. Odd, Sampson is a very good name for an able fellow. Your Sampsons were strong dogs from the beginning.

Ang. Have a care, and don't over-act your part. If you remember, Sampson, the strongest of the name, pulled an old house over his head at last. Sir S. Say you so, hussy?-Come, let's go then: odd, I long to be pulling too. Come awayOdso, here's somebody coming.

[Exeunt.

Enter TATTLE and JEREMY. Tat. Is not that she, gone out just now? Jer. Ay, sir, she's just going to the place of appointment. Ah, sir, if you are not very faith. ful and close in this business, you'll certainly be the death of a person that has a most extraordinary passion for your honour's service!

Tat. Ay, who's that?

Jer. Even my unworthy self, sir. Sir, I have had an appetite to be fed with your commands a great while-And now, sir, my former master having much troubled the fountain of his understanding, it is a very plausible occasion for me to quench my thirst at the spring of your bounty. I thought I could not recommend myself better to you, sir, than by the delivery of a great beauty and fortune into your arms, whom I have heard you sigh for.

Tut. I'll make thy fortune; say no more. Thou

art a pretty fellow, and canst carry a message to a lady, in a pretty soft kind of phrase, and with a good persuading accent?

Jer. Sir, I have the seeds of rhetoric and oratory in my head-I have been at Cambridge.

Tat. Ay; 'tis well enough for a servant to be bred at an university; but the education is a little too pedantic for a gentleman. I hope you are secret in your nature, private, close, ha?

Jer. O sir, for that, sir, 'tis my chief talent; I'm as secret as the head of Nilus.

Tat. Ay? who's he, though? A privy-counsellor ?

Jer. O ignorance! [Aside.]-A cunning Egyptian, sir, that with his arms could over-run the country, yet nobody could ever find out his headquarters.

Tat. Close dog! a good whoremaster, I warrant him!-The time draws nigh, Jeremy; Angelica will be veiled like a nun, and I must be hooded like a friar; ha, Jeremy?

Jer. Ay, sir, hooded like a hawk, to seize at first sight upon the quarry. It is the whim of my master's madness to be so dressed; and she is so in love with him, she'll comply with any thing to please him. Poor lady! I'm sure she'll have reason to pray for me, when she finds what a happy change she has made, between a madman and so accomplished a gentleman.

Tat. Ay, faith, so she will, Jeremy: You're a good friend to her, poor creature!--I swear I do it hardly so much in consideration of myself, as compassion to her.

Jer. 'Tis an act of charity, sir, to save a fine woman with thirty thousand pounds from throwing herself away.

Tat. So 'tis, faith! I might have saved several others in my time; but egad I could never find in my heart to marry any body before.

Jer. Well, sir, I'll go and tell her my master's coming; and meet you in half a quarter of an hour, with your disguise, at your own lodgings. You must talk a little madly;-she won't distinguish the tone of your voice.

Tat. No, no, let me alone for a counterfeit. I'll be ready for you. [Exit JEREMY.

Enter Miss PRUE.

Miss P. O, Mr Tattle, are you here? I'm glad I have found you. I have been looking up and down for you like any thing, till I'm as tired as any thing in the world.

Tat. O pox! how shall I get rid of this foolish girl? [Aside

Miss P. O, I have pure news, I can tell you pure news-I must not marry the seaman nowMy father says so. Why won't you be my husband? You say you love me! and you won't be my husband? And I know you may be my husband now, if you please.

Tat. O fie, miss! who told you so, child? Miss P. Why, my father-I told him that you loved me.

Tat. O fie, miss! why did you do so? and whe told you so, child?

Miss P. Who? Why you did, did not you? Tat. O pox, that was yesterday, miss; that was a great while ago, child. I have been asleep since; slept a whole night, and did not so much as dream of the matter.

Miss P. Pshaw! O but I dreamt that it was so though.

Tat. Ay, but your father will tell you that dreams come by contraries, child. O fie! what, we must not love one another now. Pshaw, that would be a foolish thing indeed! Fie, fie! you're a woman now, and must think of a new man every morning, and forget him every night. No, no, to marry is to be a child again, and play with the same rattle always: O fie, marrying is a paw thing!

Miss P. Well, but don't you love me as well as you did last night then?

Tat. No, no, child, you would not have me. Miss P. No? Yes but I would though.

Tat. Pshaw, but I tell you, you would not. You forget you are a woman, and don't know your own mind.

Miss P, But here's my father, and he knows my mind.

Enter FORESIGHT.

For. O, Mr Tattle, your servant, you are a close man; but methinks your love to my daughter was a secret I might have been trusted with! -or had you a mind to try if I could discover it by my art?-Hum, ha! I think there is something in your physiognomy that has a resemblance of her; and the girl is like me.

Tat. And so you would infer that you and I are alike?-What does the old prig mean? I'll banter him, and laugh at him, and leave him.— [Aside.]- -I fancy you have a wrong notion of faces.

For. How? what? a wrong notion! how so? Tat. In the way of art, I have some taking features, not obvious to vulgar eyes, that are indicative of a sudden turn of good fortune in the lottery of wives; and promise a great beauty and great fortune reserved alone for me, by a private intrigue of destiny, kept secret from the piercing eye of perspicuity, from all astrologers, and the stars themselves.

For. How! I will make it appear, that what you say is impossible.

Tat. Sir, I beg your pardon; I am in haste-
For. For what?

Tut. To be married, sir-married.

For. Ay, but pray take me along with you, sir. Tat. No, sir; it is to be done privately—I never make confidants.

For. Well, but my consent, I mean-You won't marry my daughter without my consent?

Tat. Who, I, sir? I am an absolute stranger to you and your daughter, sir.

For. Hey-day! What time of the moon is this?

Tat. Very true, sir; and desire to continue so. -I have no more love for your daughter than I

have likeness of you-and I have a secret in my heart which you would be glad to know, and sha'n't know; and yet you shall know it too, and be sorry for it afterwards.-I'd have you know, sir, that I'm as knowing as the stars, and as secret as the night.-And I'm going to be married just now, yet did not know of it half an hour ago; and the lady stays for me, and does not know of it yet. There's a mystery for you. I know you love to untie difficulties. Or, if you cann't solve this, stay here a quarter of an hour, and I'll come and explain it to you. [Exit. Miss P. O father! why will you let him go? Won't you make him to be my husband?

For. Mercy on us! what do these lunacies portend?-Alas, he's mad, child-stark wild.

Miss P. What, and must not I have e'er a husband then?-What, must I go to bed to nurse again, and be a child as long as she's an old woman?-Indeed, but I won't. For, now my mind is set upon a man, I will have a man some way or other. Oh, methinks I'm sick when I think of a man! And if I cann't have one, I would go to sleep all my life; for, when I'm awake, it makes me wish and long, and I don't know for what, and I'd rather be always asleep, than sick with thinking.

For. O fearful! I think the girl's influenced too.-Hussy, you shall have a rod.

Miss P. A fiddle of a rod! I'll have a husband; and if you won't get me one, I'll get one for myself. I'll marry our Robin the butler: he says he loves me; and he's a handsome man, and shall be my husband. I warrant he'll be my husband, and thank me too; for he told me so. Enter SCANDAL, Mrs FORESIGHT, and Nurse. For. Did he so?-I'll dispatch him for it presently. Rogue!-O nurse, come hither!

Nurse. What is your worship's pleasure? For. Here, take your young mistress, and lock her up presently, till further orders from me.Not a word, hussy! Do what I bid you. No reply-away!—and bid Robin make ready to give an account of his plate and linen-d'ye hear? Be gone, when I bid you.

[Exeunt Nurse and Miss PRUE. Mrs For. What's the matter, husband? For. 'Tis not convenient to tell you now.― Mr Scandal, Heaven keep us all in our senses! I fear there is a contagious frenzy abroad.—How does Valentine?

Scan. O, I hope he will do well again! I have a message from him to your niece Angelica.

For. I think she has not return'd since she went abroad with Sir Sampson.-Nurse, why are you not gone?-[Enter BEN.]-Here's Mr Benjamin; he can tell us if his father be come home.

Ben. Who, father? Ay, he's come home with a vengeance.

Mrs For. Why, what's the matter?
Ben. Matter! Why, he's mad.
For. Mercy on us! I was afraid of this.

Ben. And there's a handsome young woman;

she, as they say brother Val went mad for, she's mad too, I think.

For. O my poor niece! my poor niece! is she gone too? Well, I shall run mad next.

Mrs For. Well, but how mad? How d'ye mean?

Ben. Nay, I'll give you leave to guess.- -I'll undertake to make a voyage to Antigua-no, I mayn't say so neither-but I'll sail as far as Leghorn, and back again, before you shall guess at the matter, and do nothing else.-Mess! you may take in all the points of the compass, and not hit the right.

Mrs For. Your experiment will take up a little too much time.

Ben. Why, then, I'll tell you—There's a new wedding upon the stocks; and they two are going to be married to rights.

you.

Scan. 'Sdeath! it is a jest, I cann't believe it. Ben. Look you, friend; it is nothing to me whether you believe it or no. What I say is true, d'ye see; they are married, or just going to be married, I know not which.

For. Well, but they are not mad; that is, not lunatic?

Ben. I don't know what you call madness; but she's mad for a husband, and he's horn-mad, I think, or they'd never make a match together. -Here they come.

Enter Sir SAMPSON, ANGELICA, and BUCKRAM.

Sir S. Where is this old soothsayer? this uncle of mine elect?-Aha, old Foresight! uncle Foresight! wish me joy, uncle Foresight! double joy, both as uncle and astrologer! Here's a conjunction that was not foretold in all your Ephemeres! The brightest star in the blue firmament is shot from above in a jelly of love, and so forth; and I'm lord of the ascendant.-Odd, you're an old fellow, Foresight—uncle, I mean; a very old fellow, uncle Foresight; and yet you shall live to dance at my wedding; faith and troth you shall. -Odd, we'll have the music of the spheres for thee, old Lilly, that we will; and thou shalt lead up a dance in via lactea.

For. I'm thunder-struck! You are not married to my niece?

Sir S. Not absolutely married, uncle; but very near it; within a kiss of the matter, as you see. [Kisses ANGELICA.

Ang. 'Tis very true indeed, uncle; I hope you'll be my father, and give me.

Sir S. That he shall, or I'll burn his globes.Body o' me, he shall be thy father; I'll make him thy father, and thou shalt make me a father, and I'll make thee a mother; and we'll beget sons

Sir S. How What does my aunt say? surprising, aunt? Not at all, for a young couple to make a match in winter; not at all. It's a plot to undermine cold weather, and destroy that usurper of a bed call'd a warming-pan.

Mrs For. I'm glad to hear you have so much fire in you, Sir Sampson.

Ben Mess! I fear his fire's little better than tinder; mayhap it will only serve to light a match for somebody else.-The young woman's a handsome young woman, I cann't deny it; but, father, if I might be your pilot in this case, you should not marry her. It is just the same thing as if so be you should sail as far as the Streights without provision.

Sir S. Who gave you authority to speak, sirrah ?—To your element, fish! Be mute, fish, and to sea. Rule your helm, sirrah; don't direct me.

Ben. Well, well, take you care of your own helm, or you mayn't keep your new vessel steady.

Sir S. Why, you impudent tarpawling! sirrah, do you bring your forecastle jests upon your father?-But I shall be even with you; I won't give you a groat.-Mr Buckram, is the conveyance so worded, that nothing can possibly descend to this scoundrel? I would not so much as have him have the prospect of an estate, though there were no way to come to it but by the north-east passage.

Buck. Sir, it is drawn according to your directions; there is not the least cranny of the law unstopt.

Ben. Lawyer, I believe there's many a cranny and leak unstopt in your conscience. If so be that one had a pump to your bosom, I believe we should discover a foul hold.-They say a witch will sail in a sieve; but I believe the devil would not venture aboard with your conscience. And that's for you.

Sir S. Hold your tongue, sirrah.-How now! Who's here?

Enter TATTLE and Mrs FRAIL. Mrs F. O, sister, the most unlucky accident! Mrs For. What's the matter? Tat. O, the two most unfortunate poor crea tures in the world we are!

For. Bless us! how so?

Mrs F. Ah! Mr Tattle and I, poor Mr Tattle and I, are- -I canǹ t speak it out.

Tat. Nor I-But poor Mrs Frail and I areMrs F. Married.

For. Married! How?

Tat. Suddenly before we knew where we were -that villain Jeremy, by the help of disguises, trick'd us into one another.

For. Why, you told me just now, you went hence in haste to be married.

Ang. But I believe Mr Tattle meant the favour to me-I thank him.

Tat. I did, as I hope to be saved, madam; my intentions were good.-But this is the most cruel thing, to marry one does not know how, nor why, nor wherefore! The devil take me, if ever I was so much concern'd at any thing in my life.

Ang. 'Tis very unhappy, if you don't care for one another.

Tut. The least in the world; that is, for my part, I speak for myself.-Gad, I never had the least thought of serious kindness-I never liked any body less in my life-Poor woman! Gad, I'm sorry for her too; for I have no reason to hate her neither; but I believe I shall lead her a damn'd sort of a life.

Mrs For. He's better than no husband at all, though he's a coxcomb. [To Mrs FRAIL. Mrs F. [To her.] Ay, ay, it's well it's no worse. -Nay, for my part, I always despised Mr Tattle of all things; nothing but his being my husband could have made me like him less.

Tat. Look you there! I thought as much.Pox on't! I wish we could keep it secret. Why, I don't believe any of this company would speak

of it.

Ben. If you suspect me, friend, I'll go out of the room.

Mrs F. But, my dear, that's impossible; the parson and that rogue Jeremy will publish it.

Tat. Ay, my dear, so they will, as you say. Ang. O you'll agree very well in a little time; custom will make it easy for you.

Tat. Easy! Pox on't, I don't believe I shall sleep to-night.

Sir S. Sleep, quoth-a! No, why you would not sleep on your wedding-night? I'm an older fellow than you, and don't mean to sleep.

Ben. Why, there's another match now, as thof a couple of privateers were looking for a prize, and should fall foul of one another. I'm sorry for the young man with all my heart. Look you, friend, if I may advise you, when she's going-for that you must expect, I have experience of her when she's going, let her go. For no matrimony is tough enough to hold her; and if she cann't drag her anchor along with her, she'll break her cable, I can tell you that. Who's here? the madman?

Enter VALENTINE, SCANDAL, and JEREMY. Val. No; here's the fool; and, if occasion be, I'll give it under my hand.

Sir S. How now?

Val. Sir, I'm come to acknowledge my errors, and ask your pardon.

Sir S. What, have you found your senses at last then? In good time, sir.

Val. You were abused, sir; I never was distracted.

For. How? not mad, Mr Scandal?

Scan. No, really, sir; I'm his witness, it was all counterfeit.

Val. I thought I had reasonsa poor contrivance: the effect has such.

-but it was shewn it

Sir S. Contrivance! what, to cheat me? to cheat your father? Sirrah, could you hope to prosper?

Val. Indeed I thought, sir, when the father endeavoured to undo the son, it was a reasonable return of nature.

Sir S. Very good, sir. Mr Buckram, are you ready? Come, sir, will you sign and seal? Val. If you please, sir; but first I would ask this lady one question.

Sir S. Sir, you must ask me leave first-That lady! No, sir; you shall ask that lady no questions, till you have asked her blessing, sir; that lady is to be my wife.

Val. I have heard as much, sir; but I would have it from her own mouth.

Sir S. That's as much as to say, I lie, sir; and you don't believe what I say.

Vul. Pardon me, sir. But I reflect that I very lately counterfeited madness: I don't know but the frolic may go round.

Sir S. Come, chuck, satisfy him, answer him. -Come, Mr Buckram, the pen and ink. Buck. Here it is, sir, with the deed; all is ready. [VAL. goes to ANG. Ang. 'Tis true, you have a great while pretended love to me; nay, what if you were sincere, still you must pardon me, if I think my own inclinations have a better right to dispose of my person than yours.

Sir S. Are you answered now, sir?

Val. Yes, sir.

[Aside.

Sir S. How now? Val. Ha!

[Tears the paper.