SCENE IV.

_A Dining Room._

_Enter_ LADY LUREWELL _and_ CLINCHER SENIOR.

_Lady L._ Oh lord, sir, it is my husband! What will become of you?

_Clinch. sen._ Ah, your husband! Oh, I shall be murdered! What shall I do? Where shall I run? I'll creep into an oven--I'll climb up the chimney--I'll fly--I'll swim;----I wish to the lord I were at the Jubilee now.

_Lady L._ Can't you think of any thing, sir?

_Clinch. sen._ Think! not I; I never could think to any purpose in my life.

_Lady L._ What do you want, sir?

_Enter_ TOM ERRAND.

_Tom._ Madam, I am looking for Sir Harry Wildair; I saw him come in here this morning; and did imagine he might be here still, if he is not gone.

_Lady L._ A lucky hit! Here, friend, change clothes with this gentleman, quickly, strip.

_Clinch. sen._ Ay, ay, quickly strip; I'll give you half a crown to boot. Come here; so. [_They change Clothes._

_Lady L._ Now slip you [_To_ CLINCH. SENIOR.] down stairs, and wait at the door till my husband be gone; and get you in there [_To_ TOM ERRAND.] till I call you. [_Puts_ ERRAND _in the next Room_.

_Enter_ COLONEL STANDARD.

Oh, sir, are you come? I wonder, sir, how you have the confidence to approach me, after so base a trick.

_Colonel S._ Oh, madam, all your artifices won't avail.

_Lady L._ Nay, sir, your artifices won't avail. I thought, sir, that I gave you caution enough against troubling me with Sir Harry Wildair's company, when I sent his letters back by you; yet you, forsooth, must tell him where I lodged, and expose me again to his impertinent courtship!

_Colonel S._ I expose you to his courtship!

_Lady L._ I'll lay my life you'll deny it now. Come, come, sir: a pitiful lie is as scandalous to a red coat, as an oath to a black.

_Colonel S._ You're all lies; first, your heart is false; your eyes are double; one look belies another; and then your tongue does contradict them all--Madam, I see a little devil just now hammering out a lie in your pericranium.

_Lady L._ As I hope for mercy, he's in the right on't. [_Aside._

_Colonel. S._ Yes, yes, madam, I exposed you to the courtship of your fool Clincher, too; I hope your female wiles will impose that upon me----also----

_Lady L._ Clincher! Nay, now you're stark mad. I know no such person.

_Colonel S._ Oh, woman in perfection! not know him! 'Slife, madam, can my eyes, my piercing jealous eyes, be so deluded? Nay, madam, my nose could not mistake him; for I smelt the fop by his pulvilio, from the balcony down to the street.

_Lady L._ The balcony! ha! ha! ha! the balcony! I'll be hanged but he has mistaken Sir Harry Wildair's footman, with a new French livery, for a beau.

_Colonel S._ 'Sdeath, madam! what is there in me that looks like a cully? Did I not see him?

_Lady L._ No, no, you could not see him; you're dreaming, colonel. Will you believe your eyes, now that I have rubbed them open?--Here, you friend.

_Enter_ TOM ERRAND, _in_ CLINCHER SENIOR'S _Clothes_.

_Colonel S._ This is illusion all; my eyes conspire against themselves. Tis legerdemain.

_Lady L._ Legerdemain! Is that all your acknowledgment for your rude behaviour?--Oh, what a curse is it to love as I do!--Begone sir, [_To_ TOM ERRAND.] to your impertinent master, and tell him I shall never be at leisure to receive any of his troublesome visits.--Send to me to know when I should be at home!--Begone, sir. [_Exit_ TOM ERRAND.] I am sure he has made me an unfortunate woman. [_Weeps._

_Colonel S._ Nay, then there is no certainty in nature; and truth is only falsehood well disguised.

_Lady L._ Sir, had not I owned my fond, foolish passion, I should not have been subject to such unjust suspicions: but it is an ungrateful return. [_Weeping._

_Colonel S._ Now, where are all my firm resolves? I hope, madam, you'll pardon me, since jealousy, that magnified my suspicion, is as much the effect of love, as my easiness in being satisfied.

_Lady L._ Easiness in being satisfied! No, no, sir; cherish your suspicions, and feed upon your jealousy: 'tis fit meat for your squeamish stomach.

With me all women should this rule pursue: Who think us false, should never find us true. [_Exit in a Rage._

_Enter_ CLINCHER SENIOR _in_ TOM ERRAND'S _Clothes_.

_Clinch. sen._ Well, intriguing is the prettiest, pleasantest thing for a man of my parts.--How shall we laugh at the husband, when he is gone?--How sillily he looks! He's in labour of horns already.--To make a colonel a cuckold! 'Twill be rare news for the alderman.

_Colonel S._ All this Sir Harry has occasioned; but he's brave, and will afford me a just revenge.--Oh, this is the porter I sent the challenge by----Well sir, have you found him?

_Clinch. sen._ What the devil does he mean now?

_Colonel S._ Have you given Sir Harry the note, fellow?

_Clinch. sen._ The note! what note?

_Colonel S._ The letter, blockhead, which I sent by you to Sir Harry Wildair; have you seen him?

_Clinch. sen._ Oh, lord, what shall I say now? Seen him? Yes, sir--no, sir.--I have, sir--I have not, sir.

_Colonel S._ The fellow's mad. Answer me directly, sirrah, or I'll break your head.

_Clinch. sen._ I know Sir Harry very well, sir; but as to the note, sir, I can't remember a word on't: truth is, I have a very bad memory.

_Colonel S._ Oh, sir, I'll quicken your memory. [_Strikes him._

_Clinch. sen._ Zouns, sir, hold!--I did give him the note.

_Colonel S._ And what answer?

_Clinch. sen._ I mean, I did not give him the note.

_Colonel S._ What, d'ye banter, rascal? [_Strikes him again._

_Clinch. sen._ Hold, sir, hold! He did send an answer.

_Colonel S._ What was't, villain?

_Clinch. sen._ Why, truly sir, I have forgot it: I told you that I had a very treacherous memory.

_Colonel S._ I'll engage you shall remember me this month, rascal. [_Beats him, and exit._

_Enter_ LUREWELL _and_ PARLY.

_Lady L._ Oh, my poor gentleman! and was it beaten?

_Clinch. sen._ Yes, I have been beaten. But where's my clothes? my clothes?

_Lady L._ What, you won't leave me so soon, my dear, will ye?

_Clinch. sen._ Will ye!--If ever I peep into the colonel's tent again, may I be forced to run the gauntlet. But my clothes, madam.

_Lady L._ I sent the porter down stairs with them: did not you meet him?

_Clinch. sen._ Meet him? No, not I.

_Parly._ No! He went out at the back door, and is run clear away, I'm afraid.

_Clinch. sen._ Gone, say you, and with my clothes, my fine Jubilee clothes?--Oh, the rogue, the thief!--I'll have him hang'd for murder--But how shall I get home in this pickle?

_Parly._ I'm afraid, sir, the colonel will be back presently, for he dines at home.

_Clinch. sen._ Oh, then I must sneak off. Was ever such an unfortunate beau, To have his coat well thrash'd, and lose his coat also! [_Exit._

_Parly._ Methinks, madam, the injuries you have suffered by men must be very great, to raise such heavy resentments against the whole sex;--and, I think, madam, your anger should be only confined to the author of your wrongs.

_Lady L._ The author! alas, I know him not.

_Parly._ Not know him? Tis odd, madam, that a man should rob you of that same jewel, and you not know him.

_Lady L._ Leave trifling: 'tis a subject that always sours my temper: but since, by thy faithful service, I have some reason to confide in your secresy, hear the strange relation.--Some twelve years ago, I lived at my father's house in Oxfordshire, blest with innocence, the ornamental, but weak guard of blooming beauty. Then it happened that three young gentlemen from the university coming into the country, and being benighted, and strangers, called at my father's: he was very glad of their company, and offered them the entertainment of his house.

_Parly._ Which they accepted, no doubt. Oh, these strolling collegians are never abroad, but upon some mischief.

_Lady L._ Two of them had a heavy, pedantic air: but the third----

_Parly._ Ah, the third, madam--the third of all things, they say, is very critical.

_Lady L._ He was--but in short, nature formed him for my undoing. His very looks were witty, and his expressive eyes spoke softer, prettier things, than words could frame.

_Parly._ There will be mischief by and by; I never heard a woman talk so much of eyes, but there were tears presently after.

_Lady L._ My father was so well pleased with his conversation, that he begged their company next day; they consented, and next night, Parly----

_Parly._ Ah, next night, madam----next night (I'm afraid) was a night indeed.

_Lady L._ He bribed my maid, with his gold, out of her modesty; and me, with his rhetoric, out of my honour. [_Weeps._] He swore that he would come down from Oxford in a fortnight, and marry me.

_Parly._ The old bait, the old bait--I was cheated just so myself. [_Aside._] But had not you the wit to know his name all this while?

_Lady L._ He told me that he was under an obligation to his companions, of concealing himself then, but, that he would write to me in two days, and let me know his name and quality. After all the binding oaths of constancy, I gave him a ring with this motto--"_Love and Honour_"--then we parted, and I never saw the dear deceiver more.

_Parly._ No, nor never will, I warrant you.

_Lady L._ I need not tell my griefs, which my father's death made a fair pretence for; he left me sole heiress and executrix to three thousand pounds a year: at last, my love for this single dissembler turned to a hatred of the whole sex; and, resolving to divert my melancholy, I went to travel. Here I will play my last scene; then retire to my country-house, and live solitary. We shall have that old impotent lecher, Smuggler, here to-night; I have a plot to swinge him, and his precise nephew, Vizard.

_Parly._ I think, madam, you manage every body that comes in your way.

_Lady L._ No, Parly; those men, whose pretensions I found just and honourable, I fairly dismissed, by letting them know my firm resolutions never to marry, But those villains, that would attempt my honour, I've seldom failed to manage.

_Parly._ What d'ye think of the colonel, madam? I suppose his designs are honourable.

_Lady L._ That man's a riddle; there's something of honour in his temper that pleases; I'm sure he loves me too, because he's soon jealous, and soon satisfied.--But hang him, I have teased him enough--Besides, Parly, I begin to be tired of my revenge: but this buss and guinea I must maul once more. I'll hansel his woman's clothes for him. Go, get me pen and ink; I must write to Vizard too.

Fortune, this once assist me as before: Two such machines can never work in vain, As thy propitious wheel, and my projecting brain. [_Exeunt._

ACT THE FOURTH.