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any one in my life.
L. Plau. No; but seriously I hate to do a rude Man. Pray, my lord, pray, my lord Plausible, thing.—No, faith, I speak well of all mankind. give ine leave! I have more of the mastiff than Man. I thought so; but know, that is the worst the spaniel in my nature; I own it; besides, I am sort of detraction, for it takes away the reputatoo old now to learn to play tricks : I cannot tion of the few good men in the world, by making fawn, and fetch and carry; neither will I ever all alike. Now I speak ill of most men, because practise that servile complaisance, which some they deserve it. people pique themselves on being masters of. L. Plau. Well, tell not me, my dear friend,
L Plau. Well, but seriously, my dear friend, what people deserve; I, like an author in a dethis is being singular; will you declare war a dication, never speak well of a man for his sake, gainst general custom; refuse to subscribe to the but my own: I will not disparage any one, to common forms of good breeding ?
disparage myself: to speak ill of people behind Man. Forms indeed, my lord; they are mere their backs is not pretty, and to speak ill of them forms, and therefore shall not sway me. In short, to their faces, would be the most monstrous thing I will not, as your subscribers to forms do, whis- in nature. per my contempt or hatred ; call a man a fool, or Man. So that, if you was to say an unbandknave, by signs, or mouths over his shoulder, some thing of any of your friends, I suppose you while I have him in my arms.--I will not do as would chuse to do it behind their backs. you do. .
L. Plau. Oh certainly, certainly; I would do L Plau. As I do !-Heaven defend me! upon l it behind their backs out of pure good manners,
Man. Very well, ny lord : I have not leisure
Enter Manly and FREEMAX. at present to examine into the propriety of your decorums: I confess, I am but an unpolished sea- Frec. But how the devil could you turn a man fellow. But there is a favour, which, if your of bis quality down stairs ? You use a lord with lordship would grant me
very little ceremony it seems. L. Plan. A favour, dear sir! you make me Man. A lord! What, you are one of those, the happiest man in the world; pray let me know who esteem men only by the value and marks, how I have it in my power to serve you. which fortune liath set upon them, and never con
Man. No otherwise, my lord, than by leaving sider intrinsic worth! but counterfeit honours will me a little to myself; at present, I am really un- not be current with me; I weigh the man, not his fit for company,
title : it is not the king's inscription can make the L. Plau. Perhaps you have business.
metal better or heavier. Your lord is a leaden Man. If you have any, I would not detain your shilling, which you bend every way, and debases lordship.
the stamp he bears, instead of being raised by it L. Plau. Detain me! dear sir, I came on pur-1-And you, rascal, blockhead ! did'nt I order you pose to pay my respects to you: I hcard of your to deny me to every body? arrival in town last night, and could not be casy. Oak. Yes, your honour; and so I would, but But be free with me, if my company is in the I was just stepped into the back-parlour to play least disagreeable or inconvenient
a game at all-fours with our landlady's daughter; Man. I have told your lordship, already, I had and, while we were wrangling about the cards, rather be alone.
the little boy let the gentleman up, unknown to L. Plau. I will lay hold then of some other op- us. portunity of paying my most humble respects to Man. Well, be more careful for the future : you; and in the mean time
stand at the stair-foot, and, at your peril, keep
all that ask for me from coming up.
Oak. Must no one come up to you, sir?
Oak. A woman, ali't like vour honour?
Mun. No woman, neither, you impertinent L. Plau. Your most faithful.
rascal. Man. Your servant, your servant.
Oak. Indeed, your honour, it will be hard for L. Plau. And eternally
me to deny a woman any thing, since we are so Man. And eternal ceremony !
newly conie on shore: but I'll let no old woman L. Plau. You shall use no ceremony, by my life! come up to you. Man. I do not intend it.
Man. Would you be witty ?-You become a L. Plau. Where are you going then?
jest as ill
do a horse-- Begone. Mian. Zounds! to see you out of doors, that I
[Erit Oakin. may shut them against more welcomes.
Free. Nay, let the poor rogue have his fore(Exeunt Manly and Lord Plausible. castle jests: a sailor cannot help them in a storm, Oak. Well said, bully-tar! Ile came alongside scarce when a ship's sinking—But what, will you of his match, when he grappled with you, I can see nobody? not your friends? tell bim that. Zounds, he makes no more of one Man. Friends! I have only one friend, and of these fresh-water sparks, than a three-decker he, I hear, is not in town : nay, can have only would of a bomb-loat! But he's as brave a heart one; for a true heart admits but of one friendas ever stept between stem and stern; and so's a ship, as of one love. But in having found that sjun, by his sinking our fine vessel the other day, friend, I have a thousand; for be has the conrather than let her fall into the hands of the ras rage of meu in despair, yet the caution and discally French, when he found three or four of fidence of cowards; secrecy of the revengeful, their piccarnous at once were too many for us. and the constancy of martyrs; one fit to advise, Let me see—'Tis just six weeks since we sailed to keep a secret, to fight, to die for his friendout of Portsmouth harbour, and we had scarce But words are but wcak testimonies of his merit, l'een a month on our cruize, before we fell in and my esteem : I have trusted him, in my abwith the enemy's squadron-Ah! we have made sence, with the care of the woman I love; vbicha a base, broken, short voyage of it-Howsomever, is a charge of so tender, so delicate a nature-be soon expects to be put into commission again, Free. Well, but all your good thoughts are not and I would go with him about the round world, for him alone, I hope! Pray, what do you think it' so be it was his destination; for, thof he's as of me for a friend? crusty as any one sometimes, and will be obey'd, Man. Of you! Why you are a latitudinarian there's never a captain in the nary, that's a truer in friendship; that is, no friend; you will side friend to a seaman-Avast though! He steers with all mankind, but suffer for none; you are, this way, in company of our merry lieutenant: ’is indeed, like your lord Plausible, the pink of courfoul weather, I doubt ; I'll loof up, and get to tesy, and therefore have no friendship. windward of him.
(Retires. Free. No! that's very odd doctrine, indcech
Man. Look you, I am so much your friend, Man. Nay, hold there, sir; did not I see you, that I would not deceive you; and therefore must during the engagement, more afraid tell you, not only because my heart is taken up, | Fide. Yet, do ine justice, sir : when we took but according to your rules of friendship, I ean to our long-boat, on your giving orders to sink not be your friend.
the ship, did I shew any signs of dread or weariFree. Why, pray?
ness; though the waves broke over us on every Man. Because you will say, he, that is a true side, and the night was so dark ? friend to a man, is a friend to all his friends; | Man. Ay, ay, you were in haste to get to but you must excuse me; I cannot wish well to land : the apprehension of death made you ina pack of coxcombs, sharpers, and scoundrels, sensible of danger, and so you were valiant out of whom I have seen you treat, I know not how fear. often, as the dearest friends in the world.
Fide. Well, sir, 'tis in vain for me to avow my Free. What, I suppose you have observed me sentiments, since you are determined not to bein the park, and at the coffee-house, doing the lieve me; but one day or other, perhaps business of the several places ! But could you Free. Poor lad! you bring tears into his eyes : really think I was a friend to all those I bowed consider bis youth and inexperience, and make to, shook hands with, and received in open arms? some allowances.
Man. You told them you were; nay, and 1 Man. What, does he cry!-No more, you milkswore it, too; I heard you.
sop! Dry your eyes: I will never inake you Free. Ay, but, when their backs were turned, afraid again; for of all men, if I had occasion, did not I tell you the greater part of them were you should not be iny second ; and when I return wretched, infamous fellows, whom I despised to seaand hated?
Fide. You will not leave me behind ? Man. Very true; but what right had I to be- Man. Leave you behind! Ay, ay; you are a lieve you spoke your heart to me, who professed hopeful youth for the shore only; you have a deceiving so many?
smock-face, and an officious readiness about you: Free. Nay, if you are such a precise adherer you may get yourself recommended to some great to matter of fact, it is in vain to argue with you; inan by flattering his valet-de-chambre; or, who vet, surely, you would not have every man wear knows, some liquorish old woman, or wanton bis opinion upon his sleeve, and find fault and young one, may take a fancy to you, allow you a quarrel with all, that he cannot in his conscience conditional annuity, and make your fortune that approve?
way: Man. I would have every man speak truth, Fide. Sure, sir, you are industrious to find vourand neither act the part of a sycophant or a cow- self reasons for an aversion to me: do you think, ard.
then, I am capable of being the despicable wretch, Free. Yet, pray, sir, believe the friendship I you describe? offer you real, whatever I have professed to Man. Why, don't I know you to be a coward, others—Try me at least.
sir; a wretch capable of anything? Man. Why, what would you do for me? How Fide. Yet consider, sir; do not turn me off to ever, spare yourself the trouble of professing ; beggary and ruin : when I came to you, I told for, go as far as you will-here coines one will you I was helpless and friendless. say as much at least
Man. Very well, sir-I will provide you with
half a score friends, which will help you a little : Enter FIDELIA, in men's clothes.
in the mean time, be gone; go ! you will fare betDon't you love me devilishly, too, my little vo- ter in any place than with me. lunteer? as well as he, or any man can?
Fide. I can fare well no where, lost as I am ; Fide. Better than any man can love you, my I pursue happiness, but at every turn I meet comdear captain : as well as you do truth and ho- plicated misery! (Aside.]
[Erit. nour, sir: as wellMan. Nay, good young gentleman, enough for
Enter OAKUM. shame! Sure you forget that I am an unsucccess
Oak. There's a woman below, an please your ful man; that I have met with nothing abroad, honour, who scolds and bustles to come up, as but losses and disappointments; and ain like to much as a seamnan's widow at the navy-office; find nothing at home but frowns and vexation ! she says her name's Blackacre. Why do you follow me, then, hatter my vanity | Man. That fiend! now; since, so far from being able to befriend | Free. The widow Blackacre, that litigious she- . you, I stand in need of a patron myself?
pettifogger, who is at law and difference with all Fide. I never followed reward or preferment, the world! I wish I could make her agree with sir, but you alone; and, were you this instant to me in a church. She hath three thousand pounds embark on the most hazardous expedition, I a-year jointure, and the care of her son; that is, wonld cheerfully risk my life for the bare plea- the destruction of his estate. sure of serving with you.
Man. The lawyers, attornies, and solicitors,
have three thousand pounds a-year, while she is there's no such thing as doing nothing for you, content to be poor to make other people so; for What case must I put ? she is as vexatious as her father was, the great Mrs Black. Our case, that comes on to-day in Norfolk attorney
the Common Pleas: you know well enough, but Free. Ay, the devil take him ! I am four hun- you will be stubborn! Pray, captain, mark him. dred pounds a-year out of pocket by his knavish Jer. Hem ! hem !-John a Stilespractices on an old aunt of mine; though, indeed, Man. You may talk, young lawyer, and put her there was suspicion of a false deed of convey- case, if you think proper; but I shall no more ance; I once had a design of suing the widow mind you than I would your mother, if I was in upon it, and something I will now think of seri- your case, when she bid me do a thing to make a ously--but, hang her ! she wont pretend to know fool of myself.
Jer. Look you there now; I told you so. Man. Go to her, can't you? When she's in Mrs Black. Never mind him, Jerry, he only town, she lodges in one of the inns of court, says that to dash you: go on. Bless my soul, I where she breeds her son, and is herself his tu- could hear our Jerry put cases all day ! toress in law-French : but bid her come up; she Jer. John a Stiles-no-there are first, Fitz, is Olivia's relation, and may make me amends for Pere, and Ayle; no, no, Ayle, Pere, and Fitzher visit by giving me some account of her. Ayle is seized in fee of Blackacre; John a Stiles
disseizes the Ayle; Ayle makes claim, and the Enter MRS BLACK ACRE and JERRY.
dissessors die—Then the Ayle-Do the FitzMrs Black. I never had so much trouble with Mrs Black. No, the Pere, sirrah ! a judge's door-keeper, as with yours: you should Jer. Oh, the Pere—ay, the Pere, sir, and the consider, captain Manly, this is term time, and Fitz—No, the Ayle—No, the Pere and the Fitzfolks have something else to do, besides waiting Man. Damn Pere, Ayle, and Fitz, sir ! for admittance to people they have business with. Mrs Black. No, you are out, child. Take no
Man. Well, well, a truce with your exclama- tice of me, captain—There are Ayle, Pere, and tions, and tell me something about your cousin. Fitz: Ayle is seized in fee of Blackacre; and beHow does Olivia?
ing so seized, John a Stiles disseizes the Ayle : Mrs Black. Jerry, give me the subpæna.—It Ayle makes claim, and the disseizor dies; then was by mere chance I heard of your being in the Pere enters.—The Pere, sirrah, the Pere ! town, and you are my chief witness : you can't And the Fitz enters upon the Pere; and the Ayle imagine how my cause
brings his writ of disseizen in the post, and the Man. Damn your cause ! when did you see Pere brings his writ of disseizen in the Pere, Olivia?
andMrs Black. I am no visitor, captain, but a wo- Man. 'Sdeath, Freeman, can you listen to this man of business : or, if ever I visit, 'tis only the stuff? Chancery-Lane ladies towards the law; and none Mrs Black. Hold, sir! I must serve you [Gives of your lazy, good for nothing, fashionable gill- a paper, which he throws away); you are requiflirts. Many a fine estate has been lost in fami- red, sir, by this, to give your testimony lies for want of a notable stirring woman, to rum- Man. I'll be forsworn, to be revenged of you. mage among the writings : but come, sir, we have
[Erit. no time to lose; and since you won't listen to me, Mrs Black. Get you gone for an unmannerly I desire you may hear my son a little ; let him fellow ! But the service is good in law; so he put our case to you; for, if the trial comes on must attend it at his peril.-ome, Jerry, I had to-day, it will not be amiss to have your memory almost forgot, we are to meet at the master's berefreshed, and your judgment informed, lest you fore eleven. Let us mind our business still, should give your evidence improperly.—Jerry! child. Jer. What's the matter with you now?
Jer. Well, and who hinders you? Mrs Black. Come, child, put our case to cap- Free. Nay, madam, now I would beg you to tain Manly—-Nay, don't hold down your head hear me a little. -A little of my business. and look like a fool; for you can do it very well, Mrs Black. I have business of my own, sir, if you please.
calls me away. Jer. I wish I may be hanged, if I ever knew Free. My business would prove yours too, masuch a woman as you are in my life! I wonder dam. you are not ashamed to make one an antic be- Mrs Black. What, 'tis no Westminster-hall bufore strangers this way!
siness! would you have my advice? Mrs Black. Jerry, Jerry ! don't be perverse, Free. No, faith; it is a little Westminster ab but lay down the bags, and speak out, like a good bey business : I would have your consent. child, when I bid you.—Lord, sir, it would do Mrs Black. Fye, fye! to me such language, you good to hear him sometimes.—Why don't sir! and in the presence of my dear minor here. you begin
Jer. Ay, ay, mother, he would be taking livery Jer. Psha! you are always in such a hurry, and seizen of your jointure, by digging the turf;
but I'll watch his waters, and so you may tell him., his desires behind : he took me with him; and, Come along. [Ereunt JERRY and Widow. from that favourable circumstance, I suffered mye
self to be cheated with a thousand fond imaginaEnter FIDELIA.
tions—Here he comes, and I must avoid him.
Oh, fortune, fortune! I have been indiscreet; Fide. Dear Mr Freeman, speak to the captain | yet surely I may be punished for my indiscretion for me.
with too great severity.
[Erit. Free. Where is he? Fide. Within, sir.
SCENE II. Free. Sighing and meditating, I suppose, on his darling mistress-He would never trust me to see
Enter Manly, in his uniform, followed by her; is she handsome?
FREEMAN. Fide. I am not a proper judge.
Man. 'Sdeath! it is past eleven o'clock, and I Free. What is she?
should have been abroad before nine! But this Fide. A gentlewoman, I believe; but of as comes of being pestered with a pack of impertimean fortune as beauty. You know, sir, the cap- nent visitors. Well, I am going out, and shall tain made early choice of a sea life, to which the not return all day. particularity of his disposition afterwards attach- Free. What, I suppose you are going to pay ed him. But, some time since, he determined to your devoirs to some great man now? quit the navy; and, having conceived a violent Man. And why should you suppose that? passion for this lady, was about to marry, and re Free. Nay, faith, only because I think it is tire with her into the country.
what you ought to do, and I know it is what those Free. And what prevented him?
sort of people expect. Fide. The offer of a ship to go against the ene- Man. Well, but if they expect it from me, mies of his country: however, when he came they shall be disappointed. I have done nothing home again, the treaty was to be concluded; and to be afraid of, that I need solicit their interest, in the mean time, he left his intended wife ten by way of a screen; and I leave those to dance or twelve thousand pounds, lest any thing should attendance, who are more supple, and can play happen to him, wbilst he was abroad.
the parasite better-If they want, let them come Free. He has left her in the care of some to me--No, I am going at present, where, I dare friend, has he not! Pray, do you know any thing swear, I shall be a welcome guest; and where I of him?
ought to have gone last night, indeed; but I came Fide. Nothing further than that his name is to town too late for her regular hours. Varnish; and he is a man, in whom the captain Free. Oh! I guess where you mean; to puts the greatest confidence.
lady I have so often heard you talk of. MeFree. But if this Olivia be not handsome, what thinks I would give a good deal to see this phethe devil can he see in her?
nomenon. She must needs be mistress of very Fide. He imagines her, I suppose, the only wo- | extraordinary charms, to engage a person of your man of truth and sincerity in the world.
difficult disposition, Free. No common beauties, I must confess-- Man. The charms of her person, though in
Fide. But methinks he should have had more them she excels most of her sex, are her meanest than common proofs of them, before he trusted beauties: her tongue, no more than her face, the bulk of his fortune in her hands.
ever knew artifice: she is all sincerity; and hates Free. Why, did he leave the sum you mention the creeping, canting, hypocritical tribe, as I do; actually in her custody?
for which I love her, and I ain sure she hates not Fide. So I am told.
me; for, as an instance of her inviolable attachFree. Then he shewed love to her indeed ment, when I was going to sea, and she found it But I'll go plead with him for you, and learn impracticable to accompany me, she insisted upon something more of this wonderful fair one. [Erit. my suffering her to swear, that, in my absence,
Fide. Was ever woman in so strange, so cruel she would not listen to the addresses of any other a situation? As long as I have worn this disguise, man; which oathI cannot look at myself without astonishment; Free. You thought she would keep! bat when I consider, that I have run such lengths | Man. Yes; for I tell you she is not like the rest for a man, who knows not that I love him, and, of her sex, but can keep her promise, though she if he did know it, would certainly reject my pas- has sworn it. sion-I am startled indeed. At the time I form Free. Ha, ha, ha! ed the bold resolution of going with him to sea, Man. You doubt it, then ! Well, I shall be at I was sensible his affections were engaged to ano- her house in an hour; come to me there; the vother: Why, then, did I einbark in so rash an ad- lunteer will shew you the way; and we'll try how Fenture? because I loved; and love is apt to buoy long your infidelity will be able to resist convicitself up with false hopes; he left the object of tion.