_Colonel S._ Sir Harry! Sir Harry!

_Sir H._ I am in haste, Colonel; besides, if you're in no better humour than when I parted with you in the park this morning, your company won't be very agreeable.

_Colonel S._ You're a happy man, Sir Harry, who are never out of humour.

Can nothing move your gall, Sir Harry?

_Sir H._ Nothing but impossibilities, which are the same as nothing.

_Colonel S._ What impossibilities?

_Sir H._ The resurrection of my father to disinherit me, or an act of parliament against wenching. A man of eight thousand pounds _per annum_ to be vexed! No, no; anger and spleen are companions for younger brothers.

_Colonel S._ Suppose one called you a son of a wh.o.r.e behind your back.

_Sir H._ Why, then would I call him rascal behind his back; so we're even.

_Colonel S._ But suppose you had lost a mistress.

_Sir H._ Why, then I would get another.

_Colonel S._ But suppose you were discarded by the woman you love; that would surely trouble you.

_Sir H._ You're mistaken, Colonel; my love is neither romantically honourable, nor meanly mercenary; 'tis only a pitch of grat.i.tude: while she loves me, I love her; when she desists, the obligation's void.

_Colonel S._ But to be mistaken in your opinion, sir; if the Lady Lurewell (only suppose it) had discarded you--I say, only suppose it----and had sent your discharge by me.

_Sir H._ Pshaw! that's another impossibility.

_Colonel S._ Are you sure of that?

_Sir H._ Why, 'twere a solecism in nature. Why, we are finger and glove, sir. She dances with me, sings with me, plays with me, swears with me, lies with me.

_Colonel S._ How, sir?

_Sir H._ I mean in an honourable way; that is, she lies for me. In short, we are as like one another as a couple of guineas.

_Colonel S._ Now that I have raised you to the highest pinnacle of vanity, will I give you so mortifying a fall, as shall dash your hopes to pieces.--I pray your honour to peruse these papers.

[_Gives him the Packet._

_Sir H._ What is't, the muster-roll of your regiment, colonel?

_Colonel S._ No, no, 'tis a list of your forces in your last love campaign; and, for your comfort, all disbanded.

_Sir H._ Pr'ythee, good metaphorical colonel, what d'ye mean?

_Colonel S._ Read, sir, read; these are the Sibyl's leaves, that will unfold your destiny.

_Sir H._ So it be not a false deed to cheat me of my estate, what care I--[_Opening the Packet._] Humph! my hand!--_To the Lady Lurewell_--_To the Lady Lurewell_--_To the Lady Lurewell_--What the devil hast thou been tampering with, to conjure up these spirits?

_Colonel S._ A certain familiar of your acquaintance, sir. Read, read.

_Sir H._ [Reading.] _Madam, my pa.s.sion----so natural----your beauty contending----force of charms----mankind----eternal admirer_, WILDAIR.

--I ne'er was ashamed of my name before.

_Colonel S._ What, Sir Harry Wildair out of humour! ha! ha! ha! Poor Sir Harry! More glory in her smile than in the Jubilee at Rome; ha! ha! ha!

But then her foot, Sir Harry; she dances to a miracle! ha! ha! ha! Fie, Sir Harry; a man of your parts write letters not worth keeping!

_Sir H._ Now, why should I be angry that a woman is a woman? Since inconstancy and falsehood are grounded in their natures, how can they help it?--Here's a copy of verses too: I must turn poet, in the devil's name--Stay--'Sdeath, what's here?--This is her hand----Oh, the charming characters!--[Reading.]--_My dear Wildair_,--That's I, 'egad!--_This huff-bluff Colonel_--that's he--_is the rarest fool in nature_--the devil he is!--_and as such have I used him_.--With all my heart, 'faith!--_I had no better way of letting you know that I lodge in Pall Mall_--LUREWELL.----Colonel, I am your most humble servant.

_Colonel S._ Hold, sir, you shan't go yet; I ha'n't delivered half my message.

_Sir H._ Upon my faith, but you have, colonel.

_Colonel S._ Well, well, own your spleen; out with it; I know you're like to burst.

_Sir H._ I am so, 'egad; ha! ha! ha! [_Laugh and point at one another._

_Colonel S._ Ay, with all my heart; ha! ha! Well, well, that's forced, Sir Harry.

_Sir H._ I was never better pleased in all my life, by Jupiter.

_Colonel S._ Well, Sir Harry, 'tis prudence to hide your concern, when there's no help for it. But, to be serious, now; the lady has sent you back all your papers there----I was so just as not to look upon them.

_Sir H._ I'm glad on't, sir; for there were some things that I would not have you see.

_Colonel S._ All this she has done for my sake; and I desire you would decline any further pretensions for your own sake. So, honest, goodnatured Sir Harry, I'm your humble servant. [_Exit._

_Sir H._ Ha! ha! ha! poor colonel! Oh, the delight of an ingenious mistress! what a life and briskness it adds to an amour.--A legerdemain mistress, who, _presto_! _pa.s.s_! and she's vanished; then _hey_! in an instant in your arms again. [_Going._

_Enter_ VIZARD.

_Vizard._ Well met, Sir Harry--what news from the island of love?

_Sir H._ 'Faith, we made but a broken voyage by your chart; but now I am bound for another port: I told you the colonel was my rival.

_Vizard._ The colonel--curs'd misfortune! another. [_Aside._

_Sir H._ But the civilest in the world; he brought me word where my mistress lodges. The story's too long to tell you now, for I must fly.

_Vizard._ What, have you given over all thoughts of Angelica?

_Sir H._ No, no; I'll think of her some other time. But now for the Lady Lurewell. Wit and beauty calls.

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

Her little amorous frauds all truths excel, And make us happy, being deceived so well. [_Exit._

_Vizard._ The colonel my rival too!----How shall I manage? There is but one way----him and the knight will I set a tilting, where one cuts t'other's throat, and the survivor's hanged: so there will be two rivals pretty decently disposed of. [_Exit._