Old Mir. No? nor I neither; let me be gone, pray. Mir. My father! Old Mir. Ay, you dog's face! I am your father, for I have bore as much for thee, as your mother ever did. Mir. O ho! then this was a trick it feems, a defign, à contrivance, a stratagem-Oh! how my bones ach! Old Mir. Your bones, Sirrah, why yours? Mir. Why, Sir, han't I been beating my own flesh and blood all this while. O, Madam, [To Oriana.] I with your Ladyfhip joy of your new dignity. Here was a contrivance indeed! Pet. The contrivance was well enough, Sir, for they impofed upon us all. Mir. Well, my dear Dulcinea, did your Don Quixote battle for you bravely? My father will anfwer for the force of my love. Ori. Pray, Sir, don't infult the misfortunes of your own creating. Dug. My prudence will be counted cowardice, if I ftand tamely now. [Comes up between Mirabel and his Sifter. Well, Sir! Mir. Well, Sir! Do you take me for one of your tenants, Sir, that you put on your landlord's face at me ? Dug. On what prefumption, Sir, dare you affume thus ? Old Mir. What's that to you, Sir. [Draws. [Draws. -If jea [Oriana falls into her, Maid's arms Mir. Vapours! vapours! fhe'll come to herself.If it be an angry fit, a dram of Affa Fœtida• loufy, harts-horn in water- -If the mother, burnt feathers If grief, Ratifia-If it be ftraight ftays, ⚫or corns, there's nothing like a dram of plain brandy. Ori. Hold off, give me air-O, my brother, would you preferve my life, endanger not your own; would you defend my reputation, leave it to itfelf; 'tis a dear vindication that's purchas'd by the fword; for though our champion proves victorious, yet our honour is wounded. Old Mir. Ay, and your lover may be wounded, that's D3 another another thing. But I think you are pretty brifk again, my child. Ori. Ay, Sir, my indifpofition was only a pretence to divert the quarrel; the capricious tafte of your fex, excufes this artifice in ours. • For often when our chief perfections fail, • Our chief defects with foolish men prevail." [Exit. Pet. Come, Mr. Dugard, take courage, there is a way ftill left to fetch him again. Old Mir. Sir, I'll have no plot that has Spain. any relation to Dug. I fcorn all artifice whatfoever; my fword fhall. do her justice. Pet. Pretty justice, truly! Suppofe you run him thro the body; you run her thro' the heart at the fame time. Old Mir. And me thro' the head-rot you fwordSir, we'll have plots. Come, Petit, let's hear. Pet. What if the pretended to go into a nunnery, and fo bring him about to declare himself? Dug. That, I must confefs, has a face. Old Mir. A face! A face like an angel, Sir. Ad's my life, Sir, 'tis the most beautiful plot in Christendom. We'll about it immediately. [Exeunt. · SCENE, The Street. • Duretete and Mirabel. • Dur. [In a paffion.] And tho' I can't dance, nor fing, nor talk like you, yet I can fight, you know I can, Sir. Mir. I know thou can'ft, man. • Dur. 'Sdeath, Sir and I will: let me fee the proud• eft man alive make a jest of me ? • Mir. But I'll engage to make you amends. • Dur. Danced to death! Baited like a bear! Ridiculed! Threatened to be kicked! Confufion! Sir, you fet me on, and I will have fatisfaction; all mankind will point at me. Mir. [Afide.] I muft give this thunderbolt fome paffage, or 'twill break upon my own head-Look'e, Du retete, what do thefe gentlemen laugh at ? Enter Enter two Gentlemen. Dur. At me to be fure at me? -Sir, what made you laugh ift Gen. Your'e mistaken, Sir, if we were merry, we had a private reason. 2d Gen. Sir, we don't know you. 'Dur. Sir, I'll make you know me; mark and obferve me, I won't be named; it fhan't be mentioned, not even whispered in your prayers at church. 'Sdeath, Sir, d'ye fimile? 6 Ift Gen. Not I, upon my word. Dur. Why then, look grave as an owl in a barn, or " a Friar with his crown a fhaving. Mir. [Afide to the Gent.] Don't be bullied out of your humour, gentlemen; the fellow's mad, laugh at • him, and I'll stand by you. ft Gen. 'Egad and fo we will. ← Both. Ha, ha, ha. Dur. Very pretty. [Draws.] She threatened to kick me. Ay, then you dogs, I'll murder ye. [Fights, and beats them off; Mir. Runs over to his fide. • Mir. Ha, ha, ha! bravely done, Duretete, there you had him, noble Captain. Hey, they run, they run, victoria! victoria!-Ha, ha, ha-how happy am • I in an excellent friend! Tell me of your Virtuofo's and men of fenfe, a parcel of four-faced fplenetic rogues- a man of my thin conftitution fhould never want a fool in his company: I don't affect your fine things that improve the understanding, but hearty laughing to fatten my carcafe: and in my confcience, a man of fenfe is as melancholy without a coxcomb, as a lion without a jackall; he hunts for our diverfion, ftarts game for our fpleen, and perfectly feeds us with pleasure. I hate the man who makes acquaintance nice, And ftill difcreetly plagues me with advice; Who moves by caution, and mature delays, And must give reafons for whate'er he fays. 'The man, indeed, whofe converfe is fo full, • Makes me attentive, but it makes me dull: • Give me the careless rogue, who never thinks, That plays the fool as freely as he drinks. Not Not a buffoon, who is buffoon by trade, But one that nature, not his wants have made. "Who ftill is merry, but does ne'er defign it; And still is ridicul'd, but ne'er can find it. 'Who when he's most in earnest, is the best; And his moft grave expreffion is a jeft. END of the THIRD ACT. [Exeunt. T ACT IV. SCENE, ON Mirabel's Houfe. Enter Old Mirabel and Dugard. DUGARD. HE lady abbefs is my relation, and privy to the plot: your fon has been there, but had no admittance beyond the privilege of the grate, and there my fifter refus'd to fee him. He went off more net⚫tled at his repulse, than I thought his gaiety could aďmit.' Old Mir. Ay, ay, this nunnery will bring him about, I warrant ye. Enter Duretete. Dur. Here, where are ye all ?-O, Mr. Mirabel! you have done fine things for your pofterity-And you, Mr. Dugard, may come to anfwer this-I come to demand my friend at your hands; restore him, Sir, or-[To Old Mir. Old Mir. Reftore him! what d'ye think I have got him in my trunk, or my pocket? Dur. Sir, he's mad, and you're the cause on't. Old Mir. That may be; for I was as mad as he when I begot him. Dug. Mad, Sir! what d'ye mean? Dur. What do you mean, Sir, by fifter yonder to talk like a parrot thro' a coy-duck, to draw others into the fnare? fhutting up your cage? Or a deYour fon, Sir, because she has deferted him, he has forfaken the world; and in three words, has Old Mir. Hanged himself! Dur. The very fame, turned friar. Old Mir. You lie, Sir, 'tis ten times worse.. Bob turn ed ed friar! Why should the fellow fhave his foolish crown when the fame razor may cut his throat? Dur. If you have any command, or you any interest over him, lose not a minute: he has thrown himself into the next monaftery, and has ordered me to pay off his fervants, and difcharge his equipage. Old Mir. Let me alone to ferret him out; I'll facrifice the abbot, if he receives him; I'll try whether the fpiritual or the natural father has the most right to the child.. But, dear Captain, what has he done with his estate? Dur. Settled it upon the church, Sir. Old Mir. The church! Nay, then the devil won't get him out of their clutches- -Ten thoufand livres a year upon the church! 'Tis downright facrilege-Coale, gentlemen, all hands to work; for half that fum, one of these monafteries fhall protect you a traitor from the law, a rebellious wife from her husband, and a disobedient fon from his own father. [Exin Dug. But will ye perfuade me that he's gone to a monastery? Dur. Is your fifter gone to the filles repenties? I tell you, Sir, fhe's not fit for the fociety of repenting maids. Dug. Why fo, Sir? Dur. Because she's neither one nor t'other; fhe's too old to be a maid, and too young to repent. [Exit, Dug. after him. SCENE, the Infide of a monaftery; Oriana in a Nun's Habit; Bifarre. Ori. I hope, Bifarre, there is no harm in jefting with this religious habit. Bif. To me, the greatest jest in the habit, is taking it in earneft: I don't understand this imprifoning people with the keys of Paradife, nor the merit of that virtue which comes by constraint. Befides, we may own to one ano other, that we are in the worft company when among ourselves; for our private thoughts run us into those defiros, which our pride refifts from the attack of the world; and, you may remember, the first woman met the devil when the retired from her man. Ori. But I'm reconciled, methinks, to the mortifica• tion |