myfelf penitent, and willing to make any reparation upon your first appearance to BISARRE." Mirabel fwears she loves me, and this confirms it; then farewel gallantry, and welcome revenge; 'tis my turn now to be upon the fublime, I'll take her off, I warrant her. Enter Bifarre. Well, mistress, do you love me? Bif. I hope, Sir, you will pardon the modesty of- me, I fay? Bif. Perhaps I— Dur. What? Bif. Perhaps I do not. -Do you love Dur. Ha! abufed again! Death, wonan, I'll- Dur. Confirm it then by your obedience, ftand there; and ogle me now, as if your heart, blood and foul were like to fly out at your eyes-First, the direct furprise [She looks full upon him.] Right; next the deux yeux par oblique. [She gives him the fide glance.] Right; now depart, and languifh. [She turns from him and looks over ber Jboulder.] Very well; now figh. [She fighs.] Now drop your fan on purpose. [She drops her fan.] Now take it up again. Come now, confefs your faults are not you a proudfay after me. Bif. Proud. Dur. Impertinent. Bif. Puppy. Dur. Zoons! Woman, don't provoke me, we are alone, and you don't know but the devil may tempt me to do you a mischief; afk my pardon immediately. Bif. I do, Sir, I only mistook the word. Dur. Cry then. Have you got e'er a handkerchief? Bif. Yes, Sir. Bif. Cry then, handsomely; cry like a queen in a tragedy. [She pretending to cry, burfts out a laughing, and enter two ladies laughing. E 2 Bif. Bif. Ha, ha, ha. Ladies both. Ha, ha, ha. Dur. Hell broke loofe upon me, and all the furies fluttered about my ears! Betrayed again? Bif. That you are, upon my word, my dear Captain; ha, ha, ha. Dur. The lord deliver me! ft Lady. What! Is this the mighty man with the bull-face that comes to frighten ladies? I long to fee him angry; come begin.' Dur. Ah, Madain, I'm the best natured fellow in the world. 2d Lady. A man! We're miftaken, a man has manthe aukward creature is fome tinker's trull in a • periwig.' ners; Bif. Come, ladies, let's examine him. [They lay hold on him. Dur. Examine! the devil you will! Bif. I'll lay my life, fome great dairy maid in man's elothes. Dur. They will do't ;-look'e, dear Christian women, pray hear me. Bif. Will you ever attempt a lady's honour again? Dur. If you please to let me get away with my ho nour, I'll do any thing in the world. Bif. Will you perfuade your friend to marry mine? Dur. Oh, yes, to be fure. Bif. And will you do the fame by me? Dur. Burn me, if I do, if the coast be clear. [Runs out. Bif. Ha, ha, ha, the vifit, ladies, was critical for our diverfions, we'll go make an end of our tea. [Exeunt. Enter Mirabel and Old Mirabel. Mir. Your patience, Sir, I tell you I won't marry; and though you fend all the bifhops in France to perfuade me, I shall never believe their doctrine against their practice. Old Mir. But will you difobey your father. Sir? Mir. Would my father have his youthful fon lie lazing here, bound to a wife, chained like a monkey to make sport to a woman, fubject to her whims, humours, longings, vapours, and caprices, to have her one day pleased, to-morrow peevish; the next day mad, the fourth fourth rebellious; and nothing but this fucceffion of impertinence for ages together. Be merciful, Sir, to ( your own flesh and blood. Old Mir. But, Sir, did not I bear all this, why should • not you? • Mir. Then you think that marriage, like treafon, fhould attaint the whole body; pray confider, Sir, is it • reasonable because you throw yourself down from one story, that I must cast myself headlong from the garret window? You would compel me to that ftate, which I have heard you curfe yourself, when my mother and you have battled it for a whole week together. Old Mir. Never but once, you rogue, and that was when the longed for fix Flanders mares: ay, Sir, then fhe was breeding of you, which fhewed what an expenfive dog I should have of you. Enter Petit. Well, Petit, how does the now? Pet. Mad, Sir, con pompos-Ay, Mr. Mirabel, you'll believe that I fpeak truth now, when I confefs that I have told you hitherto nothing but lies; our jefting is come to a fad earnest, fhe's downright distracted. Enter Bifarre. Bif. Where is this mighty victor!The great exploit is done; go triumph in the glory of your conqueft, inhuman, barbarous man! Oh, Sir, [Ta the old gentleman.] your wretched ward has found a tender guardian of you, where her young innocence expected protection, here has the found her ruin. Old Mir. Ay, the fault is mine, for I believe that rogue won't marry, for fearing of begetting fuch another difobedient fon as his father did. I have done all I can, Madam, and now can do no more than run mad for company. [Cries. Enter Dugard, with his fword dravon. Dug, Away! Revenge, revenge. Old Mir. Patience, patience, Sir. [Old Mirabel holds bim.] Bob, draw. Afide. Dug. Patience! The coward's virtue, and the brave man's failing, when thus provoked-Villain! Mir. Your fifter's frenzy fhall excufe your madness; and to fhew my concern for what she suffers, I'll bear the E.3 villain villain from her brother.-Put up your anger with your fword; I have a heart like yours, that fwells at an affront received, but melts at an injury given; and if the lovely: Oriana's grief be fuch a moving scene, 'twill find a part within this breail, perhaps as tender as a brother's. Dug. To prove that foft compaffion for her grief, endeavour to remove it.--There, there, behold an object that's infective; I cannot view her, but I am as mad as ihe: [Enter Oriana, beld by two maids, who put her in a chair.] A fifter that my dying parents left, with their laft words and bleffing to my care. Sifter, dearest fifter. [Goes to her. Old Mir. Ay, poor child, poor child, d'ye know me? Ori. You! you are Amadis de Gaul, Sir;-Oh! Oh, my heart! Were you never in love, fair lady? And do you never dream of flowers and gardens ?—I dream of walking fires, and tall gigantic fights. Take heed, it comes now- -What's that? Pray stand away: I have seen that face fure.How light my head is! 4 Mir. What piercing charms has beauty, even in madnefs! thefe fudden starts of undigested words floot through my foul, with more perfuafive force than all the ftudied art of laboured eloquence.'-Come, Madam, try to repofe a little. Ori. I cannot; for I must be up to go to church, and I muft dress me, put on my new gown, and be fo fine, to meet my love. Hey ho!- Will not you tell me where my heart lies buried? Mir. My very foul is touch'd--Your hand, my fair. Ori. How foft and gentle you feel? I'll tell you your fortune, friend. Mir. How fhe ftares upon me! Ori. You have a flattering face; but 'tis a fine oneI warrant you have five hundred miftreffes-Ay, to be fure, a mistress for every guinea in his pocket-Will you pray for me? I fhall die to-morrow- -And will you ring my paffing-bell? Mir. Oh, woman, woman, of artifice created! whofe nature, even distracted, has a cunning: in vain let man his fenfe, his learning boaft, when woman's madness over-rules his reafon.' Do you know me, injured creature? Ori. No; but you shall be my intimate acquaintance in the grave. [Weeps. Mir. Oh, tears, I must believe you! Sure there is a kind of fympathy in madnefs; for even I, obdurate as I am, do feel my foul fo toffed with ftorms of paffion, that I could cry for help as well as fhe. [Wipes his eyes. Ori. What, have you loft your lover? No, you mock me. I'll go home and pray. Mir. Stay, my fair innocence, and hear me own my love fo loud, that I may call your fenfes to their place, restore them to their charming happy functions, and reinstate myself into your favour. Bif. Let her alone, Sir; 'tis all too late; fhe trembles; hold her, her fits grow ftronger by her talking. Don't trouble her; fhe don't know you, Sir. Old Mir. Not know him! What then? fhe loves to fee him, for all that. Enter Duretete. Dur. Where are you all? What the devil! melancholy, and I here! Are ye fad, and fuch a ridiculous subject, fuch a very good jeft among you as I am? Mir. Away with this impertinence! this is no place for bagatelle: I have murdered my honour, destroyed a lady, and my defire of reparation is come at length too late. See there. Dur. What ails her? Mir. Alas, fhe's mad! Dur. Mad! doft wonder at that? By this light, they're all fo; they're cozening mad, they're brawling mad, they're proud mad; I just now came from a whole world of mad women, that had almoft-What, is fhe dead? Mir. Dead! Heavens forbid! Dur. Heavens further it! for till they be as cold as a key, there's no trufting them; you're never fure that a woman's in earnest, till she is nailed in her coffin. Shall I talk to her? Are you mad, mistress? Bif. What's that to you, Sir? [Runs off. Dur. Oons, Madam, are you there? Mir. Away, thou wild buffoon! how poor and mean this humour now appears! His follies and my own I here difclaim; this lady's frenzy has restor'd my fenfes; and was the perfect now, as once the was, (before you all I 4 speak |