_Aman_. Your interference can only add to my distress.

_Col. Town_. Ah, madam, if it be the sting of unrequited love you suffer from, seek for your remedy in revenge: weigh well the strength and beauty of your charms, and rouse up that spirit a woman ought to bear. Disdain the false embraces of a husband.

See at your feet a real lover; his zeal may give him t.i.tle to your pity, although his merit cannot claim your love.

_Love_. So, so, very fine, i'faith! [_Aside_.]

_Aman_. Why do you presume to talk to me thus? Is this your friendship to Mr. Loveless? I perceive you will compel me at last to acquaint him with your treachery.

_Col. Town_. He could not upbraid me if you were.--He deserves it from me; for he has not been more false to you than faithless to me.

_Aman_. To you?

_Col. Town_. Yes, madam; the lady for whom he now deserts those charms which he was never worthy of, was mine by right; and, I imagine too, by inclination. Yes, madam, Berinthia, who now-- _Aman_. Berinthia! Impossible!

_Col. Town_. 'Tis true, or may I never merit your attention.

She is the deceitful sorceress who now holds your husband's heart in bondage.

_Aman_. I will not believe it.

_Col. Town_. By the faith of a true lover, I speak from conviction. This very day I saw them together, and overheard-- _Aman_. Peace, sir! I will not even listen to such slander-- this is a poor device to work on my resentment, to listen to your insidious addresses. No, sir; though Mr. Loveless may be capable of error, I am convinced I cannot be deceived so grossly in him as to believe what you now report; and for Berinthia, you should have fixed on some more probable person for my rival than her who is my relation and my friend: for while I am myself free from guilt, I will never believe that love can beget injury, or confidence create ingrat.i.tude.

_Col. Town_. If I do not prove to you-- _Aman._ You never shall have an opportunity. From the artful manner in which you first showed yourself to me, I might have been led, as far as virtue permitted, to have thought you less criminal than unhappy; but this last unmanly artifice merits at once my resentment and contempt. [_Exit_.]

_Col. Town_. Sure there's divinity about her; and she has dispensed some portion of honour's light to me: yet can I bear to lose Berinthia without revenge or compensation? Perhaps she is not so culpable as I thought her. I was mistaken when I began to think lightly of Amanda's virtue, and may be in my censure of my Berinthia. Surely I love her still, for I feel I should be happy to find myself in the wrong. [_Exit_.]

_Re-enter_ LOVELESS _and_ BERINTHIA.

_Ber_. Your servant, Mr. Loveless.

_Love_. Your servant, madam.

_Ber_. Pray what do you think of this?

_Love_. Truly, I don't know what to say.

_Ber_. Don't you think we steal forth two contemptible creatures?

_Love_. Why, tolerably so, I must confess.

_Ber_. And do you conceive it possible for you ever to give Amanda the least uneasiness again?

_Love_. No, I think we never should indeed.

_Ber_. We! why, monster, you don't pretend that I ever entertained a thought?

_Love_. Why then, sincerely and honestly, Berinthia, there is something in my wife's conduct which strikes me so forcibly, that if it were not for shame, and the fear of hurting you in her opinion, I swear I would follow her, confess my error, and trust to her generosity for forgiveness.

_Ber_. Nay, pr'ythee, don't let your respect for me prevent you; for as my object in trifling with you was nothing more than to pique Townly, and as I perceive he has been actuated by a similar motive, you may depend on't I shall make no mystery of the matter to him.

_Love_. By no means inform him: for though I may choose to pa.s.s by his conduct without resentment, how will he presume to look me in the face again?

_Ber_. How will you presume to look him in the face again?

_Love_. He, who has dared to attempt the honour of my wife!

_Ber_. You who have dared to attempt the honour of his mistress! Come, come, be ruled by me, who affect more levity than I have, and don't think of anger in this cause. A readiness to resent injuries is a virtue only in those who are slow to injure.

_Love_. Then I will be ruled by you; and when you think proper to undeceive Townly, may your good qualities make as sincere a convert of him as Amanda's have of me.-When truth's extorted from us, then we own the robe of virtue is a sacred habit.

Could women but our secret counsel scan-- Could they but reach the deep reserve of man-- To keep our love they'd rate their virtue high, They live together, and together die.

[_Exeunt_.]

SCENE II.--_A Room in_ SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY'S _House.

Enter_ MISS HOYDEN, NURSE, _and_ TOM FASHION.

_Fash_. This quick despatch of the chaplain's I take so kindly it shall give him claim to my favour as long as I live, I a.s.sure you.

_Miss Hoyd_. And to mine too, I promise you.

_Nurse_. I most humbly thank your honours; and may your children swarm about you like bees about a honeycomb!

_Miss Hoyd_. Ecod, with all my heart--the more the merrier, I say--ha, nurse?

_Enter_ LORY.

_Lory_. One word with you, for Heaven's sake. [_Taking_ TOM FASHION _hastily aside_.]

_Fash_. What the devil's the matter?

_Lory_. Sir, your fortune's ruined if you are not married.

Yonder's your brother arrived, with two coaches and six horses, twenty footmen, and a coat worth fourscore pounds--so judge what will become of your lady's heart.

_Fash_. Is he in the house yet?

_Lory_. No, they are capitulating with him at the gate. Sir Tunbelly luckily takes him for an impostor; and I have told him that we have heard of this plot before.

_Fash_. That's right.--[_Turning to_ MISS HOYDEN.] My dear, here's a troublesome business my man tells me of, but don't be frightened; we shall be too hard for the rogue. Here's an impudent fellow at the gate (not knowing I was come hither incognito) has taken my name upon him, in hopes to run away with you.

_Miss Hoyd_. Oh, the brazen-faced varlet! it's well we are married, or maybe we might never have been so.

_Fash. [Aside_.] Egad, like enough.--[_Aloud_.]

Pr'ythee, nurse, run to Sir Tunbelly, and stop him from going to the gate before I speak to him.

_Nurse_. An't please your honour, my lady and I had better, lock ourselves up till the danger be over.

_Fash_. Do so, if you please.

_Miss Hoyd_. Not so fast; I won't be locked up any more, now I'm married.

_Fash_. Yes, pray, my dear, do, till we have seized this rascal.

_Miss Hoyd_. Nay, if you'll pray me, I'll do anything.

[_Exit with_ NURSE.]

_Fash_. Hark you, sirrah, things are better than you imagine. The wedding's over.

_Lory_. The devil it is, sir! [_Capers about_.]

_Fash_. Not a word--all's safe--but Sir Tunbelly don't know it, nor must not yet. So I am resolved to brazen the brunt of the business out, and have the pleasure of turning the impostor upon his lordship, which I believe may easily be done.

_Enter_ SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.

Did you ever hear, sir, of so impudent an undertaking?

_Sir Tun_. Never, by the ma.s.s; but we'll tickle him, I'll warrant you.

_Fash_. They tell me, sir, he has a great many people with him, disguised like servants.

_Sir Tun_. Ay, ay, rogues enow, but we have mastered them.

We only fired a few shot over their heads, and the regiment scoured in an instant.--Here, Tummus, bring in your prisoner.

_Fash_. If you please, Sir Tunbelly, it will be best for me not to confront this fellow yet, till you have heard how far his impudence will carry him.

_Sir Tun_. Egad, your lordship is an ingenious person. Your lordship, then, will please to step aside.

_Lory_. [_Aside_.] 'Fore heavens, I applaud my master's modesty! [_Exit with_ TOM FASHION.]

_Enter_ SERVANTS, _with_ LORD FOPPINGTON _disarmed_.

_Sir Tun_. Come, bring him along, bring him along.

_Lord Fop_. What the plague do you mean, gentlemen? is it fair time, that you are all drunk before supper?

_Sir Tun_. Drunk, sirrah! here's an impudent rogue for you now. Drunk or sober, bully, I'm a justice o' the peace, and know how to deal with strollers.

_Lord Fop_. Strollers!

_Sir Tun_. Ay, strollers. Come, give an account of yourself.

What's your name? where do you live? do you pay scot and lot?

Come, are you a freeholder or a copyholder?

_Lord Fop_. And why dost thou ask me so many impertinent questions?

_Sir Tun_. Because I'll make you answer 'em, before I have done with you, you rascal, you!

_Lord Fop_. Before Gad, all the answer I can make to them is, that you are a very extraordinary old fellow, stap my vitals.

_Sir Tun_. Nay, if thou art joking deputy-lieutenants, we know how to deal with you.--Here, draw a warrant for him immediately.

_Lord Fop_. A warrant! What the devil is't thou wouldst be at, old gentleman?

_Sir Tun_. I would be at you, sirrah, (if my hands were not tied as a magistrate,) and with these two double fists beat your teeth down your throat, you dog, you! [_Driving him_.]

_Lord Fop_. And why wouldst thou spoil my face at that rate?

_Sir Tun_. For your design to rob me of my daughter, villain.

_Lord Fop_. Rob thee of thy daughter! Now do I begin to believe I am in bed and asleep, and that all this is but a dream.

Pr'ythee, old father, wilt thou give me leave to ask thee one question?

_Sir Tun_. I can't tell whether I will or not, till I know what it is.

_Lord Fop_. Why, then, it is, whether thou didst not write to my Lord Foppington, to come down and marry thy daughter?

_Sir Tun._ Yes, marry, did I, and my Lord Foppington is come down, and shall marry my daughter before she's a day older.

_Lord Fop._ Now give me thy hand, old dad; I thought we should understand one another at last.

_Sir Tun._ The fellow's mad!--Here, bind him hand and foot.

[_They bind him._]

_Lord Fop._ Nay, pr'ythee, knight, leave fooling; thy jest begins to grow dull.

_Sir Tun._ Bind him, I say--he's mad: bread and water, a dark room, and a whip, may bring him to his senses again.

_Lord Fop._ Pr'ythee, Sir Tunbelly, why should you take such an aversion to the freedom of my address as to suffer the rascals thus to skewer down my arms like a rabbit?--[_Aside._] Egad, if I don't awake, by all that I can see, this is like to prove one of the most impertinent dreams that ever I dreamt in my life.

_Re-enter_ MISS HOYDEN _and_ NURSE.

_Miss Hoyd._ [_Going up to_ LORD FOPPINGTON.] Is this he that would have run--Fough, how he stinks of sweets!--Pray, father, let him be dragged through the horse-pond.