_Clinch. jun._ Gentlemen and ladies, I'm just upon the spur, and have only a minute to take my leave.

_Sir H._ Whither are you bound, sir?

_Clinch. jun._ Bound, sir! I'm going to the Jubilee, sir.

_Lady D._ Bless me, cousin! how came you by these clothes?

_Clinch. jun._ Clothes! ha! ha! ha! the rarest jest! ha! ha! ha! I shall burst, by Jupiter Ammon--I shall burst.

_Lady D._ What's the matter, cousin?

_Clinch. jun._ The matter! ha! ha! Why, an honest porter, ha! ha! ha!

has knocked out my brother's brains--ha! ha! ha!

_Sir H._ A very good jest, i'faith--ha! ha! ha!

_Clinch. jun._ Ay, sir; but the best jest of all is, he knocked out his brains with a hammer--and so he is as dead as a door-nail! ha! ha! ha!

_Lady D._ And do you laugh, wretch?

_Clinch. jun._ Laugh! ha! ha! ha! let me see e'er a younger brother in England, that won't laugh at such a jest!

_Ang._ You appeared a very sober, pious gentleman, some hours ago.

_Clinch. jun._ Pshaw! I was a fool then; but now, madam, I'm a wit; I can rake now. As for your part, madam, you might have had me once; but now, madam, if you should fall to eating chalk, or gnawing the sheets, it is none of my fault. Now, madam, I have got an estate, and I must go to the Jubilee.

_Enter_ CLINCHER SENIOR, _in a Blanket_.

_Clinch. sen._ Must you so, rogue--must ye? You will go to the Jubilee, will you?

_Clinch. jun._ A ghost! a ghost! send for the Dean and Chapter presently.

_Clinch. sen._ A ghost! No, no, sirrah! I'm an elder brother, rogue.

_Clinch. jun._ I don't care a farthing for that; I'm sure you're dead in law.

_Clinch. sen._ Why so, sirrah--why so?

_Clinch. jun._ Because, sir, I can get a fellow to swear he knocked out your brains.

_Sir H._ An odd way of swearing a man out of his life!

_Clinch. jun._ Smell him, gentlemen, he has a deadly scent about him.

_Clinch. sen._ Truly, the apprehensions of death may have made me savour a little. O lord! the Colonel! The apprehension of him may make the savour worse, I'm afraid.

_Clinch. jun._ In short, sir, were you a ghost, or brother, or devil, I will go to the Jubilee, by Jupiter Ammon.

_Colonel S._ Go to the Jubilee! go to the bear-garden. Get you to your native plough and cart; converse with animals like yourself, sheep and oxen: men are creatures you don't understand.

_Enter a_ SERVANT, _who whispers_ WILDAIR.

_Sir H._ Let them alone, colonel, their folly will be now diverting.

Come, gentlemen, we'll dispute this point some other time.--Madam, shall I beg you to entertain the company in the next room for a moment?

[_To_ LADY DARLING.

_Lady D._ With all my heart----Come, gentlemen.

[_Exeunt all but_ WILDAIR.

_Sir H._ A lady to inquire for me! Who can this be?

_Enter_ LADY LUREWELL.

Oh, madam, this favour is beyond my expectation--to come uninvited to dance at my wedding.----What d'ye gaze at, madam?

_Lady L._ A monster--if thou'rt married, thou'rt the most perjured wretch that e'er avouch'd deceit.

_Sir H._ Heyday! Why, madam, I'm sure I never swore to marry you: I made, indeed, a slight promise, upon condition of your granting me a small favour; but you would not consent, you know.

_Lady L._ How he upbraids me with my shame!--Can you deny your binding vows, when this appears a witness against your falsehood! [_Shows a Ring._] Methinks the motto of this sacred pledge should flash confusion in your guilty face--Read, read here the binding words of love and honour--words not unknown to your perfidious tongue, though utter strangers to your treacherous heart.

_Sir H._ The woman's stark staring mad, that's certain.

_Lady L._ Was it maliciously designed to let me find my misery when past redress? To let me know you, only to know you false? Had not cursed chance showed me the motto, I had been happy: the first knowledge I had of you was fatal to me--and this second, worse.

_Sir H._ What the devil is all this! Madam, I'm not at leisure for raillery at present, I have weighty affairs upon my hands: the business of pleasure, madam: any other time---- [_Going._

_Lady L._ Stay, I conjure you, stay.

_Sir H._ 'Faith, I can't, my bride expects me; but harkye, when the honey-moon is over, about a month or two hence, I may do you a small favour. [_Exit._

_Lady L._ Grant me some wild expressions, Heavens, or I shall burst.

Woman's weakness, man's falsehood, my own shame, and love's disdain, at once swell up my breast----Words, words, or I shall burst. [_Going._

_Enter_ COLONEL STANDARD.

_Colonel S._ Stay, madam, you need not shun my sight; for if you are perfect woman, you have confidence to outface a crime, and bear the charge of guilt without a blush.

_Lady L._ The charge of guilt! what, making a fool of you? I've done it, and glory in the act: dissembling to the prejudice of men, is virtue; and every look, or sign, or smile, or tear that can deceive, is meritorious.

_Colonel S._ Very pretty principles, truly. If there be truth in woman, 'tis now in thee. Come, madam, you know that you're discovered, and, being sensible that you cannot escape, you would now turn to bay. That ring, madam, proclaims you guilty.

_Lady L._ O monster, villain, perfidious villain! Has he told you?

_Colonel S._ I'll tell it you, and loudly too.

_Lady L._ O, name it not----Yet, speak it out, 'tis so just a punishment for putting faith in man, that I will bear it all. Speak now, what his busy scandal, and your improving malice, both dare utter.

_Colonel S._ Your falsehood can't be reached by malice nor by satire; your actions are the justest libel on your fame; your words, your looks, your tears, I did believe in spite of common fame. Nay, 'gainst mine own eyes, I still maintained your truth. I imagined Wildair's boasting of your favours to be the pure result of his own vanity: at last he urged your taking presents of him; as a convincing proof of which, you yesterday from him received that ring, which ring, that I might be sure he gave it, I lent him for that purpose.