_Tot_. O Gemini that's pure! well I always had a mighty mind to see _London_, because my Grand-mother would never let me; and d'you belong to Sir _Harry Sprightly_, say you, Sir?

_Shr_. I do my self the Honour to sojourn with him; Sir _Harry_ Compliments me with adjusting some Solecisms in his Dress; we were Neighbour's Children in the Country, and always very fond of one another, he begg'd the Favour of me to meet you at the Inn, give you some refreshment, and conduct you to his Lodgings;--Oh! Here comes a Friend o'mine lately return'd from _Flanders_, that will be glad to a.s.sociate with us; he's a Person of great Worth, I a.s.sure you, and might have had great Preferments in the Army; but his good Manners, like some other well-bred military Sparks, made him rather retreat than put himself forward.

_Enter_ Knapsack.

Mr. _Knapsack_, your most humble Servant, an ingenious young Gentleman here, just arriv'd from the Fenns in _Lincolnshire,_ desires to be known to you; he's at present but a rough Diamond wholly ignorant of the Town, but your Conversation will make him Brillant.

_Knap_. You know my Profession, Mr. _Shrimp_, and think you can't trespa.s.s on my modesty; but your praises are enough to put our whole Regiment out o'countenance, had we not quarter'd in _Ireland_.--The young Gentleman by his deportment seems to be the Darling of a Family, and Heir to a good Estate.

_Tot_. I shall have Five Hundred a Year, Sir, when my Grand-mother gives up the Ghost; but at present she allows me but Eighteen Pence a Week for reading the Book of Martyrs to her, copying Receipts, and supporting her about the House.

_Shr_. Eighteen Pence a Week! Why the Kitchin Wench gets more for her Coney Skins; but what allowance are you to have now, Master, you should have handsome Lodgings in _Pall-Mall_ Tutors to embellish you, dress out for _Whites_, keep a Chair by the Week, and an impudent Footman to knock down People before you.

_Tot_. Ay, but my Grand-mother charg'd me on her Blessing never to go to that end o'the Town; she says, they are abominable Spendthrifts there; bid me remember the Prodigal Son, and has given me only a broad _Jacobus_ to pay for Post Letters, and a Hundred Pound Bill upon Sir _Francis_ to put me Clerk to an Attorney.

_Shr_. Clerk to an Attorney! Why the Nation swarms with 'em; so many young Fellows now are bred to that Profession, Men, and their Wives are forc'd to go to Law to find bus'ness for their Children.

_Knap_. Hang the Hundred Pounds; we'll spend it, Master, in showing you the Town, the Lyons, and the Tombs, the Bears, and the Morocco's, the Jew's Synagogue, and the Gyants at _Guild-hall_, my Lord-Mayor's great Coach, and my Lady Mayoress's great Tower.

_Tot_. Shan't we go to the Play-house too, and see _Pinkeman, Bullock_, and _Jubilee d.i.c.ky_?

_Knap_. Ay, and behind the Scenes too amongst the pretty Actresses; I must have you a smart Youth, understand the finish'd Vices o'the Town, learn to swear like a Gentleman of Ten Thousand a Year, few Men of Estates are bred to Conversation, game like a desp'rate younger Brother, several embroider'd Suits are known to live by't, drink abundantly to prevent dull-thinking, and Wh.o.r.e l.u.s.tily to encourage the Dispensary that gives the poor Physick for nothing. Mr. _Shrimp_ here knows the World; and, I warrant, for cogging a Die, bullying a Coward, bilking a Hackney Coachman, and storming a Nest of Wh.o.r.es in _Drury-lane_, not a Master of Arts in either University can come near him.

_Tot_. Fegs, so I will, they shan't think to cow me any longer; one cou'd never stir out o'the Room, but my Grand-mother was purring after a Body, and if she heard one got a little merry at _T. Totum_, with the Maids, she'd quaver out _Totty_, come, and say your Catechism;--_What is the chief End of Man?_ And upon ev'ry little Fault, she'd lock me up to get _Quarles's Emblems_ by heart, and threaten I shou'd lie in the great Room that's haunted, and never let one have any other diversion, than to hear the Chaplain play _Jumping Joan_ upon the Base Viol.

_Shr_. Shall we adjourn to the _Rose_, the Drawer's my particular Friend, and will give us _French_ Wine for Eighteen Pence a Bottle.

_Tot_. But lets ha' some Sack, do.

_Knap_. Ay, and Sugar, my brave Boy, thou shall't have any thing; we'll be merry as mony'd Sailors over a Bowl o'Rum Punch, fl.u.s.ter'd as their Wh.o.r.es, and frolicksom, 'till we have spent all, drink Confusion to all Grand-mothers, and if the old Cat pretends to Ptysick it much longer, we'll get an Act of Parliament to poyson her.

_Tot_. With all my Heart! they say the Parliament can do any thing.

[_Exeunt._

SCENE, _A Drawing-Room._

_Enter the_ Collonel, _and_ Lady Rodomont _rising from Play_.

L. _Rod_. Fling up the Cards, good _Collonel_, after two Games, the Pleasure becomes a Business; like my Lady _Shuffler_ that gits her living at 'em.

_Col_. Your Ladyship's a Chymist in Diversions, extracts the quintessence of ev'ry Pleasure, and leaves the drossy Part upon the World; Agreements, when too tedious pall the Fancy, when short they quicken and refine our Appet.i.tes; and the sublimest Joy to Mortals known, evaporates the Moment that 'tis tasted.

L. _Rod_. Variety alone supports dull Life, the light Amus.e.m.e.nts that connect and change, Spur on the creeping Circle of the Year; I love to humour an unbounded Genius, to give a lose to ev'ry spring of Fancy, to rove, to range, to sport with different Countries, and share the Revels of the Universe.

_Col_. My Genius fain wou'd Court superiour Blessings; those Pa.s.sions are too hurrying to last; Vapours that start from a Mercurial Brain, whose wild Chimera's flush the lighter Faculties, which tir'd i'th'vain pursuit of fancy'd Pleasures; a Pa.s.sion more substantial Courts our Reason, solid, persuasive, elegant, sublime, where ev'ry Sense crowds to the luscious Banquet, and ev'ry n.o.bler Faculty's imploy'd.

L. _Rod_. That Pa.s.sion you describe's a sleeping Potion, a lazy, stupid, lethargy of Mind, that nums our Faculties, destroys our Reason, and to our s.e.x the bane of all Agreements; shou'd I whom Fortune, lavish of her store, has given the means to glut insatiate Wishes, out-vie my s.e.x, and Lord it o'er Mankind, constrain my rambling Pleasures, check my Liberty for an insipid Cooing sort of Life, which marry'd Fools think Heav'n, and cheat each other.

_Col_. Are Love and Pleasure, Madam, so incongruous?--Methinks the very name of Love exhilerates; meaner delights were meant but to persuade us, Toys to provoke and heighten our desires, which Love confirms and Crowns with mightier extasie.

L. _Rod._ Rather all Joys expire, where Love commences; when that deluding Pa.s.sion once takes root, we grow insensible, ill-bred, intolerable, neglecting Dress and Air, and Conversation; to fondle an odd Wretch, that caus'd our ruin: No, give me the outward Gallantries of Love, the Poetry, the b.a.l.l.s, the Serenades, where I may Laugh and Toy, and humour Apish Cringers, with secret Pride to raise my s.e.xes Envy, and lead pretending Fops a Faiery Dance.

_Col._ My own Humour to a Hair! How I admire such generous sprightly Virtue, your Reasoning, Madam, darts amazing brightness, 'where groveling Souls want courage to think freely, ay, Liberty's the Source of all Enjoyments, a nourishing Delight, innate and durable. I love the Harmony of Foreign Courts; your downright _English_ Women are meer Mopes, sit dumb like Clocks that speak but once an Hour, supinely Grave and insolently Sullen, nor Smile but on good terms to Laugh, at us for Life: But other Climates animate more warmly; s.e.xes alike are free, reciprocally gay, and Pleasures are persu'd without Reflection, if Principle or Fear refuse us Love; for I'm the tenderest of a Lady's Honour, the Fair One still has tantalizing Charms, her tuneful Voice, her graceful, easie Movement, her lively Converse, happy turn of Thought, Language polite, keen Wit, fineness of Argument, but Marriage turns the Edge of all Society.

L. _Rod._ Pray, _Collonel_, how long have you taken up this Resolution?

_Col_. I doat upon the s.e.x, admire their heav'nly Form, like beauteous Temples built by sacred Hands, where their bright Souls as Deities inhabit; but shou'd Love's Queen, Celestial _Citharea_, descend in all her elegance of Beauty, the study'd Care of the officious Graces, with Wreaths of Jewels glittering round her Temples, her flowing Locks dispos'd in artful Circles, losely attir'd, and on a Down of Roses, with laughing Cupids hov'ring round the Bed.--

L. _Rod_. But _Collonel_.

_Col_ A wondrous lovely Mien, kind melting Airs, soft snowy b.r.e.a.s.t.s that pant with am'rous Sighs, Eyes lauguishing that steal forth welcome glances; Cheeks rip'ning, glowing, kindling, ravishing.

_To be confin'd, wou'd deaden all her Charms, And Matrimony fright me from her Arms_.

L. _Rod_. Good _Collonel_ check a while this feign'd Career; for in describing her you wou'd refuse, you're in a Rapture, and quite out of Breath; don't depend too much on your fancy'd Prowess, some mortal Dames, less beauteous than a G.o.ddess, have exercis'd and tam'd the boldest Heroes.

_Enter Mrs_. Lovejoy.

Mrs. _Lov_. Madam, the Countess of _Circ.u.mference_, my Lady _May-pole_, and my Lady _Bob-tail_ are just lighting at the Gate.

L. _Rod_. Pray sup with me _Collonel_, and lets finish this Argument, I'm fond of disputing with a Person that talks well.

_Col_. [_aside _] She's peek'd, and my design must prove successful.

_Pride keeps me off, but Nature smooths my way; For what her Tongue wou'd hide, her Eyes betray_.

[_Exit._

L. _Rod_. Cozen, did you ever hear the like? The _Collonel's_ such an Enemy to Marriage?

Mrs. _Lov_. An Enemy to Marriage, Madam!

L. _Rod_. As obstinately bent against it, as if he were incapable of Love; not that his Principles concern me, yet such Heresy in Men shou'd be subdu'd.

Mrs. _Lov_. Perhaps, Madam, the _Collonel_ may have had some strange misfortune in the Army, Cannon Bullets fly at such an ugly random rate.

L. _Rod_. Ha, ha, ha, how I laugh at such thin Disguises, as if a ratling Officer in this fortune-hunting Age, cou'd have Philosophy to slight my Person and Estate; but I'll applaud his happy choice of Liberty; say, 'tis a generous Thought, so like my self, I'll settle a Platonick Friendship with him, then faulter in my Speech, and seem confus'd, as if my s.e.xes weakness must discover a Pa.s.sion which my haughty Soul wou'd hide. The greedy _Collonel_ catches at the Bait, deep Sighs, and sheepish Looks confess the Lover; then with what sparkling Pride I'll boast my Power, bravely a.s.sert my wonted Resolutions, rally the bl.u.s.tering Heroe, and pursue new Conquests.

_As the Sun's early Beams attract and warm, So Ladies with their easie glances Charm; Vain c.o.xcombs cringe with transport and surprize, Feel kindling Fire, and feed upon their Eyes; 'Till like the Sun, the dazling Nymphs display_ Meridian _heat, and scorch the Fools away_.

_End of the Third_ ACT.

ACT IV. SCENE _continues_.