_Smug._ Pray, good sir, no more of your jests; for they are the bluntest jests that ever I knew.

_Sir H._ [_Strikes._] I heartily beg your pardon, with all my heart, sir.

_Smug._ Pardon, sir! Well, sir, that is satisfaction enough from a gentleman. But, seriously, now, if you pa.s.s any more of your jests upon me, I shall grow angry.

_Sir H._ I humbly beg your permission to break one or two more.

[_Strikes him._

_Smug._ Oh, lord, sir, you'll break my bones! Are you mad, sir? Murder, felony, manslaughter! [SIR HARRY _knocks him down_.

_Sir H._ Sir, I beg you ten thousand pardons; but I am absolutely compelled to it, upon my honour, sir: nothing can be more averse to my inclinations, than to jest with my honest, dear, loving, obliging friend, the Alderman.

[_Striking him all this while_: SMUGGLER _tumbles over and over_.

_Enter_ LADY LUREWELL.

_Lady L._ Oh, lord! Sir Harry's murdering the poor old man.

_Smug._ Oh, dear madam, I was beaten in jest, till I am murdered in good earnest.

_Lady L._ Oh! you barbarous man!--Now the devil take you, Sir Harry, for not beating him harder--Well, my dear, you shall come at night, and I'll make you amends. [_Here_ SIR HARRY _takes Snuff_.

_Smug._ Madam, I will have amends before I leave the place----Sir, how durst you use me thus!

_Sir H._ Sir?

_Smug._ Sir, I say that I will have satisfaction.

_Sir H._ With all my heart. [_Throws Snuff into his Eyes._

_Smug._ Oh, murder! blindness! fire! Oh, madam, madam, get me some water. Water! fire! fire! water! [_Exit with_ LADY LUREWELL.

_Sir H._ How pleasant is resenting an injury without pa.s.sion! 'Tis the beauty of revenge.

No spleen, no trouble, shall my time destroy: Life's but a span, I'll ev'ry inch enjoy. [_Exit._

ACT THE THIRD.

SCENE I.

_The Street._

_Enter_ COLONEL STANDARD _and_ VIZARD.

_Colonel S._ I bring him word where she lodged? I the civilest rival in the world? 'Tis impossible.

_Vizard._ I shall urge it no farther, sir. I only thought, sir, that my character in the world might add authority to my words, without so many repet.i.tions.

_Colonel S._ Pardon me, dear Vizard. Our belief struggles hard, before it can be brought to yield to the disadvantage of what we love. But what said Sir Harry?

_Vizard._ He pitied the poor credulous colonel, laughed heartily, flew away with all the raptures of a bridegroom, repeating these lines:

A mistress ne'er can pall her lover's joys, Whose wit can whet, whene'er her beauty cloys.

_Colonel S._ A mistress ne'er can pall! By all my wrongs he wh.o.r.es her, and I am made their property.----Vengeance----Vizard, you must carry a note for me to Sir Harry.

_Vizard._ What, a challenge? I hope you don't design to fight?

_Colonel S._ What, wear the livery of my king, and pocket an affront?

'Twere an abuse to his sacred Majesty: a soldier's sword, Vizard, should start of itself, to redress its master's wrong.

_Vizard._ However, sir, I think it not proper for me to carry any such message between friends.

_Colonel S._ I have ne'er a servant here; what shall I do?

_Vizard._ There's Tom Errand, the porter, that plies at the Blue Posts, one who knows Sir Harry and his haunts very well; you may send a note by him.

_Colonel S._ Here, you, friend.

_Vizard._ I have now some business, and must take my leave; I would advise you, nevertheless, against this affair.

_Colonel S._ No whispering now, nor telling of friends, to prevent us.

He, that disappoints a man of an honourable revenge, may love him foolishly like a wife, but never value him as a friend.

_Vizard._ Nay, the devil take him, that parts you, say I. [_Exit._

_Enter_ TOM ERRAND.

_Tom._ Did your honour call porter?

_Colonel S._ Is your name Tom Errand?

_Tom._ People call me so, an't like your worship.

_Colonel S._ D'ye know Sir Harry Wildair?

_Tom._ Ay, very well, sir; he's one of my best masters; many a round half crown have I had of his worship; he's newly come home from France, sir.

_Colonel S._ Go to the next coffee-house, and wait for me.----Oh, woman, woman, how blessed is man, when favoured by your smiles, and how accursed when all those smiles are found but wanton baits to sooth us to destruction. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ SIR H. WILDAIR, _and_ CLINCHER SENIOR, _following_.

_Clinch. sen._ Sir, sir, sir, having some business of importance to communicate to you, I would beg your attention to a trifling affair, that I would impart to your understanding.