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into an ass, and his primitive braying. Don't you remember the story in Æsop's Fables, bully? Agad, there are good morals to be picked out of Æsop's Fables, let me tell you that; and Reynard the Fox,

too.

Bluffe. Damn your morals!

Sir Jo. Prithee, don't speak so loud. Bluffe. Damn your morals !—I must revenge the affront done to my honour. [In a low voice.

Sir Jo. Ay; do, do, captain, if you think fitting; -you may dispose of your own flesh as you think fitting, d'ye see.-But, by the Lord Harry, I'll leave you. [Stealing away upon his tiptoes. Bluffe. Prodigious ! what, will you forsake your friend in extremity! You can't in honour refuse to carry him a challenge.

[Almost whispering, and treading softly after him. Sir Jo. Prithee, what do you see in my face that looks as if I would carry a challenge? Honour is your province, captain: take it-All the world know me to be a knight, and a man of worship.

Set. I warrant you, sir, I'm instructed. [Apart to SHARPER, Sharp. [Aloud.] Impossible! Araminta take a liking to a fool!

Set. Her head runs on nothing else, nor she can talk of nothing else.

Sharp. I know she commended him all the while we were in the Park; but I thought it had been only to make Vainlove jealous. Sir Jo. How's this? Good bully, hold your breath, and let's hearken. Agad, this must be I. Sharp. Death, it can't be !—an oaf, an idiot, a wittol!

Sir Jo. Ay, now it's out: 'tis I, my own individual person.

Sharp. A wretch, that has flown for shelter to the lowest shrub of mankind, and seeks protection from a blasted coward.

Sir Jo. That's you, bully back.

[BLUFFE frowns upon Sir Joseph, Sharp. She has given Vainlove her promise to marry him before to-morrow morning-has she not? [TO SETTER.

Set. She has, sir; and I have it in charge to attend her all this evening, in order to conduct her to the place appointed.

Sharp. Well, I'll go and inform your master; and do you press her to make all the haste imaginable.

SCENE VII.

SETTER, Sir JOSEPH WITTOL, and BLUFFE. Set. Were I a rogue now, what a noble prize could I dispose of! A goodly pirnace, richly laden, and to launch forth under my auspicious convoy. Twelve thousand pounds, and all her rigging; besides what lies concealed under hatches.Ha! all this committed to my care!-Avaunt temptation!-Setter, show thyself a person of worth; be true to thy trust, and be reputed honest. Reputed honest! Hum: is that all?-ay: for to be honest is nothing; the reputation of it is all. Reputation! what have such poor rogues as I to do with reputation? 'tis above us; and for men of quality, they are above it; so that reputation is e'en as foolish a thing as honesty. And for my

part, if I meet sir Joseph with a purse of gold in his hand, I'll dispose of mine to the best advantage. Sir Jo. Heh! heh! heh! here 'tis for you, i'faith, Mr. Setter. Nay, I'll take you at your word! [Chinking a purse.

Set. Sir Joseph and the captain too! undone, undone! I'm undone, my master's undone, my lady's undone, and all the business is undone !

Sir Jo. No, no, never fear, man, the lady's business shall be done. What !-Come, Mr. Setter, I have overheard all, and to speak is but loss of time; but if there be occasion, let these worthy gentlemen intercede for me. [Gives him gold.

Set. O Lord, sir, what d'ye mean? corrupt my honesty! They have indeed very persuading faces; but

Sir Jo. 'Tis too little.-There's more, man:there take all.-Now

Set. Well, sir Joseph, you have such a winning way with you

Sir Jo. And how, and how, good Setter, did the little rogue look, when she talked of sir Joseph ? Did not her eyes twinkle, and her mouth water? did not she pull up her little bubbies? and-agad, I'm so overjoyed!-and stroke down her belly? and then step aside to tie her garter, when she was thinking of her love? heh, Setter !

Set. Oh, yes, sir.

Sir Jo. How now, bully? What, melancholy, because I'm in the lady's favour ?-No matter, I'll make your peace-I know they were a little smart upon you. But I warrant, I'll bring you into the lady's good graces.

Bluffe. Pshaw! I have petitions to show from other-guess toys than she. Look here; these were sent me this morning. There, read. [Shows letters.] That-that's a scrawl of quality. Here, here's from a countess too. Hum-no, hold— that's from a knight's wife, she sent it me by her husband. But here, both these are from persons of great quality.

Sir Jo. They are either from persons of great quality, or no quality at all, 'tis such a damned ugly hand.

[While Sir JOSEPH reads, BLUFFE whispers Setter, Set. Captain, I would do anything to serve you; but this is so difficult

Bluffe. Not at all; don't I know him?

Set. You'll remember the conditions? Bluffe. I'll give it you under my hand.-In the mean time, here's earnest.-[Gives him money.] Come, knight; I'm capitulating with Mr. Setter for you.

Sir Jo. Ah, honest Setter; sirrah, I'll give thee anything but a night's lodging.

SCENE VIII.

SHARPER tugging in HEARTWELL.

Sharp. Nay, prithee leave railing, and come along with me; may be she mayn't be within. 'Tis but to yond' corner house.

Heart. Whither? whither? which corner house? Sharp. Why, there: the two white posts. Heart. And who would you visit there, say you? [Aside.] Oons, how my heart aches!

Sharp. Pshaw, thou'rt so troublesome and inquisitive! Why I'll tell you, 'tis a young crea

ture that Vainlove debauched, and has forsaken. Did you never hear Bellmour chide him about Silvia ?

Heart. [Aside.] Death and hell and marriage! my wife!

Sharp. Why thou art as musty as a new married man, that had found his wife knowing the first night.

Heart. [Aside.] Hell and the devil! does he know it? But hold-if he should not, I were a fool to discover it.—I'll dissemble, and try him.— [Aloud.] Ha ha ha! why, Tom, is that such an occasion of melancholy? Is it such an uncommon mischief?

Sharp. No, faith; I believe not. Few women but have their year of probation, before they are cloistered in the narrow joys of wedlock. But, prithee come along with me, or I'll go and have the lady to myself. B'w'y George. [Going.

Heart. [Aside.] O torture! how he racks and tears me!-Death! shall I own my shame, or wittingly let him go and whore my wife? no, that's insupportable. [Aloud.] Oh, Sharper! Sharp. How now?

Heart. Oh, I am married.

Sharp. [Aside.] Now hold spleen.-[Aloud.] Married!

Heart. Certainly, irrecoverably married. Sharp. Heaven forbid, man! how long? Heart. Oh, an age, an age! I have been married these two hours.

Sharp. My old bachelor married! that were a jest! ha ha! ha!

Heart. Death! d'ye mock me! Hark ye, if either you esteem my friendship or your own safety, come not near that house-that corner house-that hot brothel ask no questions.

Sharp. Mad, by this light!

[Exit.

Thus grief still treads upon the heels of pleasure; Married in haste, we may repent at leisure.

SCENE IX.

SHARPER and SETTER.

Set. Some by experience find those words mis

placed:

At leisure married, they repent in haste. As, I suppose, my master Heartwell.

Sharp. Here again, my Mercury?

Set. Sublimate, if you please, sir: I think my achievements do deserve the epithet.-Mercury was a pimp too; but though I blush to own it, at this time, I must confess I am somewhat fallen from the dignity of my function, and do condescend to be scandalously employed in the promotion of vulgar matrimony.

Sharp. As how, dear dexterous pimp?

Set. Why, to be brief, for I have weighty affairs depending,- -our stratagem succeeded as you intended. Bluffe turns arrant traitor: bribes me to make a private conveyance of the lady to him, and put a sham settlement upon Sir Joseph.

Sharp. O rogue! well, but I hope

Set. No, no; never fear me, sir.-I privately informed the knight of the treachery; who has agreed, seemingly to be cheated, that the captain may be so in reality.

Sharp. Where's the bride?

Set. Shifting clothes for the purpose at a friend's house of mine. Here's company coming; if you'll walk this way, sir, I'll tell you.

SCENE X.

BELLMOUR, BELINDA, ARAMINTA, and VAINLOVE. Vain. Oh, 'twas frenzy all! cannot you forgive it?-men in madness have a title to your pity. [To ARAMINTA. Aram. Which they forfeit, when they are restored to their senses.

Vain. I am not presuming beyond a pardon.

Aram. You who could reproach me with one counterfeit, how insolent would a real pardon make you! but there's no need to forgive what is not worth my anger.

Belin. [To BELLMOUR.] O my conscience, I could find in my heart to marry thee, purely to be rid of thee at least thou art so troublesome a lover, there's hopes thou'lt make a more than ordinary quiet husband.

Bell. Say you so? is that a maxim among you? Belin. Yes; you fluttering men of the mode have made marriage a mere French dish.

[Aside.

Bell. I hope there's no French sauce. Belin. You are so curious in the preparation; that is, your courtship, one would think you meant a noble entertainment; but when we come to feed, 'tis all froth, and poor, but in show; nay, often only remains which have been I know not how many times warmed for other company, and at last served up cold to the wife.

Bell. That were a miserable wretch indeed, who could not afford one warm dish for the wife of his bosom. But you timorous virgins form a dreadful chimera of a husband, as of a creature contrary to that soft, humble, pliant, easy thing, a lover; so guess at plagues in matrimony, in opposition to the pleasures of courtship. Alas! courtship to marriage, is but as the music in the playhouse till the curtain's drawn; but that once up, then opens the scene of pleasure.

Belin. Oh, foh! no; rather courtship to marriage, is as a very witty prologue to a very dull play.

SCENE XI.

BELLMOUR, BELINDA, ARAMINTA, Vainlove, and SHARPER.

Sharp. Hist, Bellmour; if you'll bring the ladies, make haste to Silvia's lodgings, before Heartwell has fretted himself out of breath.

Bell. You have an opportunity now, madam, to revenge yourself upon Heartwell, for affronting your squirrel. [TO BELINDA.

Belin. O, the filthy rude beast! Aram. 'Tis a lasting quarrel; I think he has never been at our house since.

Bell. But give yourselves the trouble to walk to that corner-house, and I'll tell you by the way what may divert and surprise you.

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Bell. Now, George, what, rhyming! I thought the chimes of verse were passed, when once the doleful marriage-knell was rung.

Heart. Shame and confusion, I am exposed!

[VAINLOVE and ARAMINTA talk apart. Belin. Joy, joy, Mr. Bridegroom! I give you joy, sir!

Heart. 'Tis not in thy nature to give me joy: a woman can as soon give immortality.

Belin. Ha ha! ha! O gad, men grow such clowns when they are married!

Bell. That they are fit for no company but their wives.

Belin. Nor for them neither, in a little time.— I swear, at the month's end, you shall hardly find a married man that will do a civil thing to his wife, or say a civil thing to anybody else.-How he looks already! ha! ha! ha!

Bell. Ha! ha! ha!

Heart. Death, am I made your laughing-stock? -For you, sir, I shall find a time; but take off your wasp here, or the clown may grow boisterous; I have a fly-flap.

Belin. You have occasion for't, your wife has been blown upon.

Bell. That's home.

Heart. Not fiends or furies could have added to my vexation, or anything but another woman!you've racked my patience; begone, or by

Bell. Hold, hold; what the devil, thou wilt not draw upon a woman!

Vain. What's the matter?

Aram. Bless me! what have you done to him! Belin. Only touched a galled beast till he winced.

Vain. Bellmour, give it over; you vex him too much; 'tis all serious to him.

Belin. Nay, I swear, I begin to pity him myself. Heart. Damn your pity !—But let me be calm a little. How have I deserved this of you? any of ye? Sir, have I impaired the honour of your house, promised your sister marriage, and whored her? Wherein have I injured you? Did I bring a physician to your father when he lay expiring, and endeavour to prolong his life, and you one-and

twenty?-Madam, have I had an opportunity with you and balked it?-did you ever offer me the favour that I refused it? Or

Belin. Oh, foh! what does the filthy fellow mean? lard, let me begone!

Aram. Hang me, if I pity you; you are right enough served.

Bell. This is a little scurrilous though.

Vain. Nay, 'tis a sore of your own scratching. -[TO HEARTWELL.] Well, George

Heart. You are the principal cause of all my present ills. If Silvia had not been your mistress, my wife might have been honest.

Vain. And if Silvia had not been your wife, my mistress might have been just :-there we are even. -But have a good heart, I heard of your misfortune, and come to your relief.

Heart. When execution's over, you offer a reprieve.

Vain. What would you give?

Heart. Oh! anything, everything, a leg or two, or an arm; nay, I would be divorced from my virility, to be divorced from my wife.

SCENE XIV

HEARTWELL, BEllmour, Belinda, Vainlove, ArAMINTA, and SHARPER.

Vain. Faith, that's a sure way-but here's one can sell your freedom better cheap.

Sharp. Vainlove, I have been a kind of a godfather to you, yonder; I have promised and vowed some things in your name, which I think you are bound to perform.

Vain. No signing to a blank, friend.

Sharp. No, I'll deal fairly with you :-'tis a full and free discharge to sir Joseph Wittol and captain Bluffe, for all injuries whatsoever, done unto you by them, until the present date hereof.How say you?

Vain. Agreed.

Sharp. Then let me beg these ladies to wear their masks a moment.-Come in, gentlemen and ladies.

Heart. What the devil's all this to me?
Vain. Patience.

SCENE XV.

HEARTWELL, BELLMOUR, BELINDA, VAINLOVE, ARAMINTA, SHARPER, Sir JOSEPH WITTOL, BLUFFE, SILVIA, LUCY, and SETTER.

Bluffe. All injuries, whatsoever, Mr. Sharper. Sir Jo. Ay, ay, whatsoever, captain, stick to that; whatsoever.

Sharp. 'Tis done, these gentlemen are witnesses to the general release.

Vain. Ay, ay, to this instant moment: I have passed an act of oblivion.

Bluffe. 'Tis very generous, sir, since I needs

must own

Sir Jo. No, no, captain, you need not own, heh! heh! heh! 'tis I must own

Bluffe. That you are overreached too, ha ha! ha! only a little art-military used-only undermined, or so, as shall appear by the fair Araminta, my wife's permission. [LUCY unmasks.] Oh, the devil, cheated at last!

Sir Jo. Only a little art-military trick, captain, only countermined, or so.-Mr. Vainlove, I suppose you know whom I have got now? But all's forgiven.

Vain. I know whom you have not got; pray, ladies, convince him.

[ARAMINTA and BELINDA unmask. Sir Jo. Ah! O Lord, my heart aches!-Ah, Setter, a rogue of all sides!

Sharp. Sir Joseph, you had better have preengaged this gentleman's pardon; for though Vainlove be so generous to forgive the loss of his mistress I know not how Heartwell may take the loss of his wife. [SILVIA unmasks.

Heart. My wife! by this light 'tis she, the very cockatrice!-Oh, Sharper, let me embrace thee! But art thou sure she is really married to him?

Set. Really and lawfully married, I am witness. Sharp. Bellmour will unriddle to you.

[HEARTWELL goes to BELLMOUR. Sir Jo. Pray, madam, who are you? for I find you and I are like to be better acquainted.

Silv. The worst of me is, that I am your wife. Sharp. Come, sir Joseph, your fortune is not so bad as you fear :-a fine lady, and a lady of very good quality.

Sir Jo. Thanks to my knighthood, she's a lady. Vain. That deserves a fool with a better title. Pray use her as my relation, or you shall hear on't.

Bluffe. What! are you a woman of quality too, spouse?

Set. And my relation : pray let her be respected accordingly. Well, honest Lucy, fare thee well. I think you and I have been playfellows off and on any time this seven years.

Lucy. Hold your prating !-I'm thinking what vocation I shall follow while my spouse is planting laurels in the wars.

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Bell. I thank thee, George, for thy good intention; but there is a fatality in marriage-for I find I'm resolute.

Heart. Then good counsel will be thrown away upon you. For my part, I have once escaped, and when I wed again, may she be ugly as an old bawd.

Vain. Ill-natured as an old maid-
Bell. Wanton as a young widow-
Sharp. And jealous as a barren wife.
Heart. Agreed.

Bell. Well, 'midst of these dreadful denunciations, and notwithstanding the warning and example before me, I commit myself to lasting durance. Belin. Prisoner, make much of your fetters. [Giving her hand. Bell. Frank, will you keep us in countenance? Vain. May I presume to hope so great a blessing?

Aram. We had better take the advantage of a little of our friends' experience first.

Bell. [Aside.] O' my conscience she dares not consent, for fear he should recant.—[Aloud.] Well, we shall have your company to church in the morning; may be it may get you an appetite to see us fall to before ye.-Setter, did not you tell

me

Set. They're at the door, I'll call 'em in.

A Dance.

Bell. Now set we forward on a journey for life. Come, take your fellow-travellers.-Old George, I'm sorry to see thee still plod on alone.

Heart. With gaudy plumes and gingling bells made proud,

The youthful beast sets forth, and neighs aloud.
A morning sun his tinsell'd harness gilds,
And the first stage a down-hill green-sward yields.
But oh-

What rugged ways attend the noon of life!
Our sun declines, and with what anxious strife,
What pain we tug that galling load, a wife!
All coursers the first heat with vigour run;
But 'tis with whip and spur the race is won.
[Exeunt omnes.

EPILOGUE

SPOKEN BY MRS. BARRY.

As a rash girl, who will all hazards run,
And be enjoy'd, though sure to be undone;
Soon as her curiosity is over,

Would give the world she could her toy recover;
So fares it with our poet, and I'm sent
To tell you he already does repent:
Would you were all as forward to keep Lent!
Now the deed's done, the giddy thing has leisure
To think o' th' sting that's in the tail of pleasure.
Methinks I hear him in consideration :-
"What will the world say? where's my reputation?
Now that's at stake"-No, fool, 'tis out of fashion.
If loss of that should follow want of wit,
How many undone men were in the pit!
Why, that's some comfort to an author's fears,
If he's an ass, he will be tried by's peers.

But hold-I am exceeding my commission:
My business here was humbly to petition;
But we're so used to rail on these occasions,
I could not help one trial of your patience :
For 'tis our way (you know) for fear o' th' worst,
To be beforehand still, and cry fool first.
How say you, sparks? how do you stand affected?
I swear, young Bays within is so dejected,
'Twould grieve your hearts to see him; shall I call

him?

But then you cruel critics would so maul him!
Yet, may be you'll encourage a beginner;
But how?-Just as the devil does a sinner.
Women and wits are used e'en much at one,
You gain your end, and damn 'em when you've
done.

THE DOUBLE-DEALER.

A Comedy.

Interdum tamen, et vocem Comœdia tollit.-HORAT. Ars Poet.

Syrus. Huic equidem consilio palmam do: hic me magnifice effero,
Qui vim tantam in me, et potestatem habeam tantæ astutiæ,
Vera dicendo ut cos ambos fallam.-TERENT, Heauton.

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE

CHARLES MONTAGUE,

ONE OF THE LORDS OF THE TREASURY.

SIR, I heartily wish that this play were is perfect as I intended it, that it might be more worthy your acceptance, and that my dedication of it to you might' a more becoming that honour and esteem which I, with everybody who is so fortunate as to know you, have for you. It had your countenance when yet unknown; and now it is made public, it wants your protection.

I would not have anybody imagine that I think this play without its faults, for I am conscious of several. I confess I designed (whatever vanity or ambition occasioned that design) to have written a true and regular comedy: but I found it an undertaking which put me in mind of—Sudet multum, frustraque laboret ausus idem. And now, to make amends for the vanity of such a design, I do confess both the attempt, and the imperfect performance. Yet I must take the boldness to say, I have not miscarried in the whole; for the mechanical part of it is regular. That I may say with as little vanity, as a builder may say he has built a house according to the model laid down before him; or a gardener that he has set his flowers in a knot of such or such a figure. I designed the moral first, and to that moral I invented the fable, and do not know that I have borrowed one hint of it anywhere. I made the plot as strong as I could, because it was single; and I made it single, because I would avoid confusion, and was resolved to preserve the three unities of the drama. Sir, this discour is very impertinent to you, whose judgment much better can discern the faults, than I can excuse them; and whose "ood-nature, like that of a lover, will find out those hidden beauties (if there are any such) which it would be great immodesty for me to discover. I think I do not speak improperly when I call you a lover of poetry; for it is very well known she has been a very kind mistress to you: she has not denied you the last favour; and she has been fruitful to you in a most beautiful issue.-If I break off abruptly here, I hope everybody will understand that it is to avoid a commendation, which, as it is your due, would be most easy for me to pay, and too troublesome for you to receive.

I have, since the acting of this play, hearkened after the objections which have been made to it; for I was conscious where a true critic might have put me upon my defence. I was prepared for the attack; and am pretty confident I could have vindicated some parts, and excused others; and where there were any plain miscarriages, I would most ingenuously have confessed them. But I have not heard anything said sufficient to provoke an answer. That which looks most like an objection, does not relate in particular to this play, but to all or most that ever have been written; and that is, soliloquy. Therefore I will answer it, not only for my own sake, but to save others the trouble, to whom it may hereafter be objected.

I grant, that for a man to talk to himself appears absurd and unnatural; and indeed it is so in most cases; but the circumstances which may attend the occasion make great alteration. It oftentimes happens to a man to have designs which require him to himself, and in their nature cannot admit of a confidant. Such, for certain, is all villany; and other less mischievous intentions may be very improper to be communicated to a second person. In such a case, there fore, the audience must observe, whether the person upon the stage takes any notice of them at all, or no. For if he supposes any one to be by when he talks to himself, it is monstrous and ridiculous to the last degree. Nay, not only in this case, but in any part of a play, if there is expressed any knowledge of an audience, it is insufferable. But otherwise, when a man in soliloquy reasons with himself, and pro's and con's, and weighs all his designs, we ought not to imagine that this man either talks to us, or to himself; he is only thinking, and thinking such matter as were inexcusable folly in him to speak. But because we are concealed spectators of the plot in agitation, and the poet finds it necessary to let us know the whole mystery of his contrivance, he is willing to inform us of this person's thoughts; and to that end is forced to make use of the expedient of speech, no other better way being yet invented for the communication of thought.

Another very wrong objection has been made by some, who have not taken leisure to distinguish the characters. The hero of the play, as they are pleased to call him, (meaning Mellefont,) is a gull, and made a fool, and cheated. Is every man a gull and a fool that is deceived? At that rate I am afraid the two classes of men will be reduced to one, and the knaves themselves be at a loss to justify their title: but if an open-hearted honest man, who has an entire confidence in one whom he takes to be his friend, and whom he has obliged to be so; and who (to confirm him in his opinion) in all appearance, and upon several trials has been so; if this man be deceived by the treachery of the other, must he of necessity commence fool immediately, only because the other has proved a villain? Ay, but there was caution given to Mellefont in the first Act by his friend Careless. Of what nature was that caution? Only to give the

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