_Vizard._ Why, in the city end o' th' town we're playing the knave, to get estates.

_Colonel S._ And in the court end playing the fool, in spending them.

_Sir H._ Just so in Paris. I'm glad we're grown so modish.

_Vizard._ We are so reformed, that gallantry is taken for vice.

_Colonel S._ And hypocrisy for religion.

_Sir H._ A-la-mode de Paris again.

_Vizard._ Nothing like an oath in the city.

_Colonel S._ That's a mistake; for my major swore a hundred and fifty last night to a merchant's wife in her bed-chamber.

_Sir H._ Pshaw! this is trifling; tell me news, gentlemen. What lord has lately broke his fortune at the clubs, or his heart at Newmarket, for the loss of a race? What wife has been lately suing in Doctor's-Commons for alimony: or what daughter run away with her father's valet? What beau gave the n.o.blest ball at Bath, or had the gayest equipage in town?

I want news, gentlemen.

_Colonel S._ 'Faith, sir, these are no news at all.

_Vizard._ But, pray, Sir Harry, tell us some news of your travels.

_Sir H._ With all my heart.--You must know, then, I went over to Amsterdam in a Dutch ship. I went from thence to Landen, where I was heartily drubbed in battle, with the b.u.t.t end of a Swiss musket. I thence went to Paris, where I had half a dozen intrigues, bought half a dozen new suits, fought a couple of duels, and here I am again _in statu quo_.

_Vizard._ But we heard that you designed to make the tour of Italy: what brought you back so soon?

_Sir H._ That which brought you into the world, and may perhaps carry you out of it;--a woman.

_Colonel S._ What! quit the pleasures of travel for a woman?

_Sir H._ Ay, colonel, for such a woman! I had rather see her _ruelle_ than the palace of Louis le Grand. There's more glory in her smile, than in the jubilee at Rome! and I would rather kiss her hand than the Pope's toe.

_Vizard._ You, colonel, have been very lavish in the beauty and virtue of your mistress; and Sir Harry here has been no less eloquent in the praise of his. Now will I lay you both ten guineas a-piece, that neither of them is so pretty, so witty, or so virtuous, as mine.

_Colonel S._ 'Tis done.

_Sir H._ I'll double the stakes--But, gentlemen, now I think on't, how shall we be resolved? For I know not where my mistress may be found; she left Paris about a month before me, and I had an account----

_Colonel S._ How, sir! left Paris about a month before you?

_Sir H._ Yes, sir, and I had an account that she lodged somewhere in St.

James's.

_Vizard._ How! somewhere in St. James's say you?

_Sir H._ Ay, sir, but I know not where, and perhaps may'nt find her this fortnight.

_Colonel S._ Her name, pray, Sir Harry?

_Vizard._ Ay, ay, her name; perhaps we know her.

_Sir H._ Her name! Ay, she has the softest, whitest hand that ever was made of flesh and blood; her lips so balmy sweet----

_Colonel S._ But her name, sir?

_Sir H._ Then her neck and----

_Vizard._ But her name, sir? her quality?

_Sir H._ Then her shape, colonel?

_Colonel S._ But her name I want, sir.

_Sir H._ Then her eyes, Vizard!

_Colonel S._ Pshaw, Sir Harry! her name, or nothing!

_Sir H._ Then if you must have it, she's called the Lady----But then her foot, gentlemen! she dances to a miracle. Vizard, you have certainly lost your wager.

_Vizard._ Why, you have certainly lost your senses; we shall never discover the picture, unless you subscribe the name.

_Sir H._ Then her name is Lurewell.

_Colonel S._ 'Sdeath! my mistress! [_Aside._

_Vizard._ My mistress, by Jupiter! [_Aside._

_Sir H._ Do you know her, gentlemen?

_Colonel S._ I have seen her, sir.

_Sir H._ Canst tell where she lodges? Tell me, dear colonel.

_Colonel S._ Your humble servant, sir. [_Exit._

_Sir H._ Nay, hold, colonel; I'll follow you, and will know.

[_Runs out._

_Vizard._ The Lady Lurewell his mistress! He loves her: but she loves me.----But he's a baronet, and I plain Vizard; he has a coach, and I walk on foot; I was bred in London, and he in Paris.----That very circ.u.mstance has murdered me----Then some stratagem must be laid to divert his pretensions.

_Enter_ WILDAIR.

_Sir H._ Pr'ythee, d.i.c.k, what makes the colonel so out of humour?

_Vizard._ Because he's out of pay, I suppose.

_Sir H._ 'Slife, that's true! I was beginning to mistrust some rivalship in the case.

_Vizard._ And suppose there were, you know the colonel can fight, Sir Harry.