_Tott_. Are all your _London_ Women like her? Our Country Wenches are as Cross with treading upon Nettles; there's _Margery_ our Dairy-Maid, I only offer'd to feel her Bubbies, and she hit me a dowse o'the Jaws enough to beat down a Stack o' Chimneys.

_Shr_. We'll carry you to a Lady, Master, that shall stifle you with Kindness, as pretty a piece of Wild-fowl as paddles about _Covent Garden_; but you'll tip her a Guinea, her Lodgings are extremely fine; and you must know a first Floor comes very dear.

_Knap_. She's a Gentlewoman too, I'll a.s.sure you, her Father was hang'd in _Monmonth_'s Time, wears as rich Cloaths as any Body, and never puts on the same Suit twice.

_Tot_. O Gemini, I long to see her; pray, Mr. _Knapsack,_ lets go; but what shall I treat her with, boil'd Fowls and Oysters.

_Knap_. Something that's very nice, she's mighty dainty at Supper; but her constant Breakfast is a Red-Herring, and a quartern o' Geneva. [_Exeunt._

SCENE _Changes to Lady_ Rodomonts.

_Lady_ Rodomont _and the Collonel discover'd_.

L. _Rod_. Well, Collonel, now what think you of our s.e.x? Is there no Nymph so sovereignly bright, whole matchless Beauty, Virtue, Wit and Fortune you'd charm your rambling. Thoughts and chain you to her?

_Coll_. The G.o.ddess you describe, you too well know her wond'rous Brightness, her commanding Excellence, where ev'ry Star seems glitt'ring in her Person, and ev'ry Science cultivates her Mind; no Swain but kindles at her vast Perfections, Sighs at her Feet, and trembles to approach her; but then a baneful Mischief thwarts our Transports, and while we feast us with luxuriant Gazing, that bug-bear Marriage rises like a Storm, clouds ev'ery Beauty, blackens with approaching, and frights away the gen'rous faithful Lover.

L. _Rod_. You talk of Love with an unusual Warmth, you seem to feel it too, and talk with Pleasure; and yet strange wand'ring Notions teaze your Fancy, whose vain Allurements tantalize your Reason, and force you from the Happiness you wish for. He that loves truly, loves without reserve; the Object is the Centre of his Wishes, but your wild s.e.x that hurry after Pleasure, whose headstrong Pa.s.sions kindle ev'ry moment, admire each Nymph, and eager to possess, you burn, you rage, and talk in tragick Strains: But when the easy Maid believes, and blesses, when once you ha'

rifl'd, ravish'd and enjoy'd, ungratefully you slight the yielding Charmer; your Love boil'd o'er descends to cold Indifference, and a regardless Look rewards her Favours; were I inclin'd to wave my Resolutions, and yield my self a Victim to Love's Pow'r, were I to chuse a Man by Fortune slighted, and raise him to a more than common Affluence; such is the Temper of your graceless s.e.x, there's not a Cottage Swain that proves sincere.

_Coll_. Cou'd you then, Madam, condescend to love, and cou'd a Lover manifest his Pa.s.sion, by constant waiting, vigilant Observance, by sacerdotal Plights, and Faith inviolate, wou'd you prove kind, and take him to your Arms.

L. _Rod_. Of things impossible we lightly talk; if such a Man were found, perhaps, I might.

_Coll_. Cherish that Thought; believe there is that Man; believe you see him now; observe him well.

L. _Rod_. Ha!

_Coll_. Read from his Eyes his pa.s.sionate Concern, his flattering Hopes, his anxious killing Fears; examine ev'ry Symptom, feel his Tremblings, search to his Heart, and there find Truth unblemish'd; approve his Flame, and nourish it with Favours.

L. _Rod_. Have I caught you, Collonel; is this the Sum of all your Self-sufficiency, your Matrimonial Hate, and boasted Liberty. [_Aside_.]

His Merits probably may vie with any, but sure he last shou'd hope a Lady's Graces, who saucily arraigns her s.e.x's Pow'r.

_Enter_ Nicknack.

Mr. _Nicknack_, I have a Miracle to tell you, the Collonel from a bl.u.s.tering, ranting Heroe is dwindl'd to a panting, pining Lover; talks in blank Verse, and Sighs in mournful postures: He the fam'd _Pyramus_, and I bright _Thisbe_.

_Nic_. I thought, Madam, the Collonel had been a profess'd Marriage-hater.

L. _Rod_. Mr. _Nicknack_, we'll divert our selves at Picquet. When you recover, Collonel, from this Lethargy, you'll play a Pool with us; Ladies admit all sorts to lose their Mony. [_Exit Lady_ Rod. _and_ Nick.

_Coll_. I have plaid a fine Card truly, now shall I be number'd with those doating Fools, her Pride encourages, then Jilts, and laughs at.

She's fair, but, oh! the Treachery of her s.e.x.

_Enter Sir_ Harry.

Sir _Har_. My dear Collonel, prithee why so pensive? I have had the pleasantest Adventure this Afternoon, going to the Bank to receive Mony; in _Pater-Noster-Row_ I saw two of the loveliest Sempstresses the Trade e'er countenanc'd; I went into the Shop, struck up a Bargain, whipt over to the _Castle_, where we eat four Crabs, top'd six Bottles, skuttl'd up and down, kiss'd, towz'd and tumbl'd 'till we broke ev'ry Chair in the Room. But you are so engag'd with Lady _Rodomont_, your Company's a Blessing unattainable.

_Coll_. Yes, I have been engag'd, and finely treated. The Syren with her false deluding Arts, her Force of Words and seeming to comply, has drawn me to declare my Pa.s.sion for her; now rallies and despises all I said, and hugs her self in baffling my Design.

Sir _Har_. 'Tis like her s.e.x, they will ha' their Jades Tricks, but never mind 'em; we'll to the Tavern and consult new Measures: Our Perseverance is beyond their Policy.

_The started Hare may frisk it o'er the Plain, And the staunch Hound long trace her Steps in vain, Swiftly she flies, then stops, turns back and views, } Doubles, and quats, and her lost Strength renews, } But tho' unseen, he still the Scent persues, } 'Till breathless to a fatal Period brought, The Hound o'ertakes her, and poor Puss is caught._

The End of the Fourth ACT.

ACT V.

SCENE, _Continues_.

_Enter Sir_ Harry, _and Mrs._ Lovejoy.

Mrs. _Lov._ Sir _Harry_, all this Rhet'rick won't prevail; whether you term it Virtue, or Pride only, I am resolv'd to keep a Fame unspotted, in spight of all temptations whatsoever.

Sir _Har._ A Woman's obstinacy is no novelty; but where's the difference 'twixt a Mistress and a Wife. Only a Mistress has a much better Air; you shall appear as gay and fine as any; strut in Brocade, and glitter in your Jewels, 'till you put all virtuous Women out o'countenance.

Mrs. _Lov._ Impudence, Sir _Harry_, is a lewd Woman's Talent, and yet what Creature is there so much dash'd as such an one that happens among virtuous Ladies. If the Pa.s.sion you profess be real, proceed with Honour, and you may be heard: Not that I speak this to increase your Vanity; Ambition only sways my Inclinations, and you must know; I have a mighty mind to be a Lady.

Sir _Har._ A Lady! why, my Servants shall all call you so; we'll live together like Man and Wife, and I'll be so Constant, and so full of Love, that ev'ry body shall believe we're marry'd.

Mrs. _Lov._ Love and Constancy, Sir _Harry_, will plainly tell ev'ry body we are not marry'd.

Sir _Har._ [_aside_] Have her I must; but how shall I contrive it?--Oh!

a lucky Thought seizes me. Some Ladies after they have refus'd prodigious Settlements, tell 'em but a Secret, and they'll grant you any thing.

I'll trump up a delicate Lie to tickle her Curiosity and serve the _Collonel_.----Well, Madam, since you are resolv'd to cross me, I must apply my self to those more kind tho' less agreeable, tho' had you giv'n me but the least Encouragement to have shown my opinion of your Parts as well as Person, I had trusted you with a Story worth your Attention, tho'

'tis a most prodigious Secret.

Mrs. _Lov_. A Secret! Sir _Harry_, positively, I will know it.

Sir _Har_, Then ev'ry body'll know it for a Secret. 'Tis a thing of that dangerous Consequence, Madam, shou'd it e'er be divulg'd, I may have my Throat cut about it; and pray, what security have I either for your Fidelity, or that in return you'll favour my Addresses.

Mrs. _Lov_. 'Tis well known, Sir _Harry_, I can keep a Secret; I have found Ladies cheat at Cards, seen Ladies steal Tea-Spoons, and have never spoke on't; nay more, I once caught a Lady making her Husband a Cuckold, and I never discover'd it.----I'll tell you who it was, my Lady _Elcebeth_.----

Sir. _Har._ Nay, Madam, you have giv'n me prodigious Proofs of your Secrecy, and I'll disclose the Matter. _Collonel Blenheim_ having been so intollerably us'd by Lady _Rodomont_ is just going to be marry'd to my Lady _Catterwawl_, the rich Widow in the _Mewse_.

Mrs. _Lov_. Indeed!

Sir _Har_. The Lady has regarded him some Years, and her Woman, Mrs.

_Squatt_, has often brought him Presents and Messages which he receiv'd but coldly, admiring Lady _Rodomont_; but her ill treatment makes him now resolve gratefully to marry one, who not only will advance his Fortune, but intirely Loves him.

Mrs. _Lov_. Sir _Harry_, you have oblig'd me infinitely, I wou'd'nt but have known this Story for the World.

Sir _Har_. But when shall we be happy in each other?