Maj. Zouns! what a clatter! She'll pull down all the bells in the house.

Oak. My observations, since I left you, have confirmed my resolution. I see plainly, that her good-humour, and her ill-humour, her smiles, her tears, and her fits, are calculated to play upon

me.

Maj. Did not I always tell you so? It's the way with them all-they will be rough and smooth, and hot and cold, and all in a breath.— Any thing to get the better of us.

Oak. She is in all moods at present, I promise you-I am at once angry and ashamed of her; and yet she is so ridiculous, I can't help laughing at her There has she been in her chamber, fuming and fretting, and dispatching a messenger to me every two minutes-servant after servant -now she insists on my coming to her-now, again, she writes a note to entreat-then, Toilet is sent to let me know that she is ill, absolutely dying-then, the very next minute, she'll never see my face again-she'll go out of the house directly. [Bell rings.] Again! now the storm rises!

Maj. It will soon drive this way, then-now, brother, prove yourself a man-You have gone too far to retreat.

Oak. Retreat! -Retreat!- -No, no!—I'll preserve the advantage I have gained, I am determined.

Maj. Ay, ay! keep your ground! fear nothing-up with your noble heart! Good discipline makes good soldiers; stick close to my advice, and you may stand buff to a tigress

Oak. Here she is, by Heavens!-now, brother!

Maj. And now, brother! Now or never!

Enter MRS OAKLY.

Mrs Oak. I think, Mr Oakly, you might have had humanity enough to have come to see how I did. You have taken your leave, I suppose, of all tenderness and affection-but I'll be calmI'll not throw myself into a passion-you want to drive me out of your house-I see what you aim at, and will be aforehand with you-let me keep my temper! I'll send for a chair, and leave the house this instant.

Oak. True, my love! I knew you would not think of dining in your chamber alone, when I had company below. You shall sit at the head of the table, as you ought, to be sure, as you say, and make my friends welcome.

Mrs Oak. Excellent raillery! Look ye, Mr Oakly, I see the meaning of all this affected coolness and indifference.

Oak. My dear, consider where you are

Mrs Oak. You would be glad, I find, to get me out of your house, and have all your flirts about you.

Oak. Before all this company! Fy!

remain in it to support my due authority—as for you, major Oakly!

Maj. Hey-day! What have I done? Mrs Oak. I think you might find better employment, than to create divisions between married people and you, sir

Oak. Nay, but, my dear!

Mrs Oak. Might have more sense, as well as tenderness, than to give ear to such idle stuff.— Oak. Lord, lord!

Mrs Oak. You, and your wise counsellor there, I suppose, think to carry all your points with

me.

Oak. Was ever any thing

Mrs Oak. But it won't do, sir. You shall find that I will have my own way, and that I will govern my own family.

Oak. You had better learn to govern yourself by half. Your passion makes you ridiculous.Did ever any body see so much fury and violence? affronting your best friends, breaking my peace, and disconcerting your own temper. And all for what? For nothing. 'Sdeath, madam! at these years, you ought to know better. Mrs Oak. At these years! Very fine !·I to be talked to in this manner?

Oak. Talked to! Why not? You have talked to me long enough—almost talked me to death -and I have taken it all in hopes of making you quiet-but all in vain; for the more one bears, the worse you are. Patience, I find, is all thrown away upon you; and henceforward, come what may, I am resolved to be master of my own house.

Mrs Oak. So, so! Master, indeed! Yes, sir, and you'll take care to have mistresses enough, too, I warrant you.

Oak. Perhaps I may; but they shall be quiet ones, I can assure you.

Mrs Oak. Indeed! And do you think I am such a tame fool as to sit quietly and bear all this? You shall know, sir, that I will resent this behaviour You shall find that I have a spirit

Oak. Of the devil.

Mrs Oak. Intolerable! You shall find, then, that I will exert that spirit. I am sure I have need of it. As soon as the house is once cleared again, I'll shut my doors against all company. You shan't see a single soul for this month.

Oak. 'Sdeath, madam, but I will! I'll keep open house for a year. I'll send cards to the whole town-Mr Oakly's route! All the world will come-and I'll go among the world, too— I'll be mewed up no longer.

Mrs Oak. Provoking insolence! This is not to be endured-Look'e, Mr Oakly

Oak. And look'e, Mrs Oakly, I will have my

own way.

me to practise! I see my folly, and fear that you can never forgive me.

Oak. Forgive you!You are too good, my love!-Forgive you!-Can you forgive me? This change transports me - Brother! Mr Russet! Charles! Harriot! give me joy!—I am the happiest man in the world.

Maj. Joy, much joy to you both! though, by the by, you are not a little obliged to me for it. Did not I tell you I would cure all the disorders in your family? I beg pardon, sister, for taking the liberty to prescribe for you. My medicines have been somewhat rough, I believe, but they

have had an admirable effect, and so don't be angry with your physician.

Mrs Oak. I am indeed obliged to you, and I feel

Oak. Nay, my dear, no more of this. All that's past must be utterly forgotten.

Mrs Oak. I have not merited this kindness, but it shall, hereafter, be my study to deserve it. Away with all idle jealousies! And since my suspicions have hitherto been groundless, I am resolved for the future never to suspect at all. [Exeunt omnes

SCENE I.-A garden.

Enter ARAMINTA with an affected carelessness, and knotting; MODELY following.

Mode. BUT, madamn!

Ara. But, sir! what can possibly have alarmed you thus? You see me quite unconcerned. I only tell you in a plain, simple, narrative manner (this plaguy thread)--and merely by way of conversation, that you are in love with Calia; and where is the mighty harm in all this?

Mode. The harm in it, madam! have I not told you a thousand and a thousand times, that you were the only woman who could possibly make me happy?

Ara. Why, aye, to be sure you have, and sworn a thousand and a thousand oaths to confirm that assertion.

Mode. And am not I here now, expressly to marry you?

Ara. Why, that, too, is true-but-you are in love with Cælia.

Mode. Bless me, madam, what can I say to you? If it had not been for my attendance upon you, I had never known Cælia, or her mother either-though they are both my relations. The mother has since indeed put some kind of confidence in me—she is a widow, you know

Ara. And wants consolation! The poor orphan, too, her daughter!-Well, charity is an excellent virtue. I never considered it in that light before. You are vastly charitable, Mr Modely.

Mode. It is impossible to talk with you.—If you will not do me justice, do it to yourself, at least. Is there any comparison betwixt you and

this knot.)

-(I cannot undo Would Mode. Well, let her be seventeen. any man of judgment attach himself to a girl of that age? On my soul, if one was to make love to her, she would hardly understand what one

meant.

you.

Ara. Girls are not quite so ignorant as you may imagine, Mr Modely; Cælia will understand you, take my word for it, and does understand As to your men of judgment and sense, here is my brother, now ;-I take him to be full as reasonable as yourself, and somewhat older; and yet, with all his philosophy, he has brought himself to a determination at last, to fulfil the father's will, and marry this green girl. I am sorry to tell you so, Mr Modely, but he will certainly marry her.

Mode. Let him marry her. I should perhaps do it myself, if I was in his place. He was an intimate friend of her father's. She is a great fortune, and was given to him by will. But do you imagine, my dear Araminta, that if he was left to his own choice, without any bias, he would not rather have a woman nearer his own years? He might almost be her father.

Ara. That is true. But you will find it difficult to persuade me, that youth in a woman is so insurmountable an objection. I fancy, Mr Modely, it may be got over. Suppose I leave you to think of it.-(I cannot get this right.) [Going. Mode. Stay, dear Araminta! why will you plague me thus? Your own charms, my earnestness, might prove to you—

Ara. I tell you I don't want proofs.

Mode. Well, well, you shall have none, then. But give me leave to hope, since you have done me the honour to be a little uneasy on my ac

count

Ara. Uneasy!--I uneasy! What does the man mean? I was a little concerned, indeed, to give you uneasiness by informing you of my brother's intended marriage with Calia. But-this shuttle bends so abominably.-[Aside.]

Mode. Thou perplexing tyrant! Nay, you shall not go. May I continue to adore you? you must not forbid me that.

Ara. For my part, I neither command nor forbid any thing. Only this I would have you remember, I have quick eyes. Your servant.wish this knotting had never come in fashion. [Aside.] [Exit ARA. Mode. Quick eyes, indeed! I thought my cunning here had been a master-piece. The girl cannot have told, sure! and the mother is entirely on my side. They certainly were those inquisitive eyes she speaks of, which have found out this secret. Well, I must be more cautious

Enter BELMOUR from behind, with a book in his hand.

Bel. Ha, ha, ha! Well said, Modely! Mod. [Starting.] Belmour!-how the deuce came you here?

Bel. How came I here!-How came you here, if you come to that? A man can't retire from the noise and bustle of the world, to admire the beauties of the spring, and read pastoral in an arbour, but impertinent lovers must disturb his meditations. Thou art the arrantest hypocrite, Modely[Throwing away the book. Mod. Hypocrite !---My dear friend, we men of gallantry must be so. But have a care! we may have other listeners for aught I know, who may not be so proper for confidants. [Looking about.

Bel. You may be easy on that head. We have the garden to ourselves. The widow and ber daughter are just gone in, and sir John is busy with his steward.

Mod. The widow, and her daughter! Why, were they in the garden?

Bel. They just came into it; but upon seeing you and Araminta together, they turned back again.

Mode. On seeing me and Araminta! I hope I have no jealousies there, too. However, I am glad Cælia knows I am in the garden, because it may probably induce her to fall in my way-by chance, you know, and give me an opportunity of talking to her.

Bel. Do you think she likes you?

Mode. She does not know what she does.
Bel. Do you like her?

Mode. Why, faith, I think I do.

Bel. Why, then, do you pursue your affair with Araminta; and not find some honourable means of breaking off with her?

Mode. That might not be quite so expedient. I think Araminta the finest woman, and Cælia the prettiest girl, I know. Now, they are both good fortunes, and one of them I am resolved to have, but which

Bel. Your great wisdom has not yet determined. Thou art undoubtedly the vainest fellow living. I thought you brought me down here now to your wedding?

Mode. 'Egad, I thought so, too; but this plaguy little rustic has disconcerted all my schemes. Sir John, you know, by her father's will, may marry her if he pleases, and she forfeits her estate if she marries any one else. Now, I am contriving to bring it about, that I may get her, and her fortune, too.

Bel. A very likely business, truly. So you modestly expect that sir John Dorilant should give up his mistress, and then throw her fortune