Chapter 45

_Enter Sir_ Timothy Treat-all, _and_ Jervice.

Sir _Tim_. Here, take my Sword, _Jervice_. What have you inquir’d, as I directed you, concerning the rich Heiress, Sir _Nicholas Get-all’s_ Daughter?

_Jer_. Alas, Sir, inquir’d! why, ‘tis all the City-News that she’s run away with one of the maddest Tories about Town.

Sir _Tim_. Good Lord! Ay, ay, ‘tis so; the plaguy Rogue my Nephew has got her. That Heaven shou’d drop such Blessings in the Mouths of the wicked! Well, _Jervice_, what Company have we in the House, _Jervice_?

_Jer_. Why, truly, Sir, a fine deal, considering there’s no Parliament.

Sir _Tim_. What Lords have we, _Jervice_?

_Jer_. Lords, Sir, truly none.

Sir _Tim_. None! what, ne’er a Lord! some mishap will befall me, some dire mischance! Ne’er a Lord! ominous, ominous! our Party dwindles daily. What, nor Earl, nor Marquess, nor Duke, nor ne’er a Lord! Hum, my Wine will lie most villanously upon my Hands to Night. _Jervice_, what, have we store of Knights and Gentlemen?

_Jer_. I know not what Gentlemen there be, Sir; but there are Knights, Citizens, their Wives and Daughters.

Sir _Tim_. Make us thankful for that; our Meat will not lie upon our Hands then, _Jervice_: I’ll say that for our little Londoners, they are as tall Fellows at a well-charg’d Board as any in Christendom.

_Jer_. Then, Sir, there’s Nonconformist-Parsons.

Sir _Tim_. Nay, then we shall have a clear Board; for your true Protestant Appetite in a Lay-Elder, does a Man’s Table Credit.

_Jer_. Then, Sir, there’s Country Justices and Grand-Jury-Men.

Sir _Tim_. Well enough, well enough, _Jervice_.

_Enter Mrs_. Sensure.

_Sen_. An’t like your Worship, Mr. _Wilding_ is come in with a Lady richly drest in Jewels, mask’d, in his Hand, and will not be deny’d speaking with your Worship.

Sir _Tim_. Hah, rich in Jewels! this must be she. My Sword again, _Jervice_.--Bring ‘em up, _Sensure_.--Prithee how do I look to Night, _Jervice_? [_Setting himself_.

_Jer_. Oh, most methodically, Sir.

_Enter_ Wild, _with_ Diana, _and_ Betty.

_Wild_. Sir, I have brought into your kind protection the richest Jewel all London can afford, fair Mrs. _Charlot Gett-all_.

Sir _Tim_. Bless us, she’s ravishing fair! Lady, I had the honour of being intimate with your worthy Father. I think he has been dead--

_Dia_. If he catechize me much on that point, I shall spoil all. [_Aside_. Alas, Sir, name him not; for if you do, [_weeping_. I’m sure I cannot answer you one Question.

_Wild_. For Heaven sake, Sir, name not her Father to her; the bare remembrance of him kills her. [_Aside to him_.

Sir _Tim_. Alas, poor Soul! Lady, I beg your Pardon. How soft-hearted she is! I am in love; I find already a kind of tickling of I know not what, run frisking through my Veins. [_Aside_.

_Bet_. Ay, Sir, the good Alderman has been dead this twelve-month just, and has left his Daughter here, my Mistress, three thousand Pound a Year. [_Weeping_.

Sir _Tim_. Three thousand Pound a Year! Yes, yes, I am in love. [_Aside_.

_Bet_. Besides Money, Plate, and Jewels.

Sir _Tim_. I’ll marry her out of hand, [_Aside_.] Alas, I cou’d even weep too; but ‘tis in vain. Well, Nephew, you may be gone now; for ‘tis not necessary you shou’d be seen here, d’ye see. [_Pushing him out_.

_Wild_. You see, Sir, now, what Heaven has done for me; and you have often told me, Sir, when that was kind you wou’d be so. Those Writings, Sir, by which you were so good to make me Heir to all your Estate, you said you wou’d put into my possession, whene’er I made it appear to you I could live without ‘em, or bring you a Wife of Fortune home.

Sir _Tim_. And I will keep my word; ‘tis time enough. [_Putting him out_.

_Wild_. I have, ‘tis true, been wicked; but I shall now turn from my evil ways, establish my self in the religious City, and enter into the Association. There want but these same Writings, Sir, and your good Character of me.

Sir _Tim_. Thou shalt have both, all in good time, Man: Go, go thy ways, and I’ll warrant thee for a good Character, go.

_Wild_. Ay, Sir, but the Writings, because I told her, Sir, I was your Heir; nay, forc’d to swear too, before she wou’d believe me.

Sir _Tim_. Alas, alas! how shreudly thou wert put to’t!

_Wild_. I told her too, you’d buy a Patent for me; for nothing woos a City-Fortune like the hopes of a Ladyship.

Sir _Tim_. I’m glad of that; that I can settle on her presently. [_Aside_.

_Wild_. You may please to hint something to her of my godly Life and Conversation; that I frequent Conventicles, and am drunk no where but at your true Protestant Consults and Clubs, and the like.

Sir _Tim_. Nay, if these will please her, I have her for certain. [_Aside_. Go, go, fear not my good word.

_Wild_. But the Writings, Sir--

Sir _Tim_. Am I a Jew, a Turk? Thou shalt have any thing, now I find thee a Lad of Parts, and one that can provide so well for thy Uncle. [_Aside_. [_Puts him out, and addresses himself to the Lady_.

_Wild_. Wou’d they were hang’d that trust you, that have but the art of Legerdemain, and can open the Japan-Cabinet in your Bed-chamber, where I know those Writings are kept. Death, what a disappointment’s here! I wou’d ha’ sworn this Sham had past upon him. [_Aside_.] But, Sir, shall I not have the Writings now?

Sir _Tim_. What, not gone yet! for shame, away; canst thou distrust thy own natural Uncle? Fie, away, _Tom_, away.

_Wild_. A Plague upon your damn’d Dissimulation, that never failing Badge of all your Party, there’s always mischief at the bottom on’t; I know ye all; and Fortune be the Word. When next I see you, Uncle, it shall cost you dearer. [_Exit_.

_Enter_ Jervice.

_Jer_. An’t please your Worship, Supper’s almost over, and you are askt for.

Sir _Tim_. They know I never sup; I shall come time enough to bid ‘em welcome. [_Exit_ Jer.

_Dia_. I keep you, Sir, from Supper, and better Company.

Sir _Tim_. Lady, Were I a Glutton, I cou’d be satisfy’d With feeding on those two bright starry Eyes.

_Dia_. You are a Courtier, Sir; we City-Maids do seldom hear such Language; in which you shew your kindness to your Nephew, more than your thoughts of what my Beauty merits.

Sir _Tim_. Lord, Lord, how innocent she is! [_Aside_.] My Nephew, Madam? yes, yes, I cannot chuse but be wondrous kind upon his score.

_Dia_. Nay, he has often told me, you were the best of Uncles, and he deserves your goodness, so hopeful a young Gentleman.

Sir _Tim_. Wou’d I cou’d see’t. [_Aside_.

_Dia_. So modest.

Sir _Tim_. Yes, ask my Maids. [_Aside_.

_Dia_. So civil.

Sir _Tim_. Yes, to my Neighbours Wives. [_Aside_.] But so, Madam, I find by this high Commendation of my Nephew, your Ladyship has a very slender opinion of your devoted Servant the while: or else, Madam, with this not disagreeable Face and Shape of mine, six thousand Pound a year, and other Virtues and Commodities that shall be nameless, I see no reason why I shou’d not beget an Heir of my own Body, had I the helping hand of a certain victorious Person in the World, that shall be nameless. [_Bowing and smirking_.

_Dia_. Meaning me, I am sure; if I shou’d marry him now, and disappoint my dear Inconstant with an Heir of his own begetting, ‘twou’d be a most wicked Revenge for past Kindnesses. [_Aside_.

Sir _Tim_. I know your Ladyship is studying now who this victorious Person shou’d be, whom I dare not name: but let it suffice, she is, Madam, within a Mile of an Oak.

_Dia_. No, Sir, I was considering, if what you say be true, How unadvisedly I have lov’d your Nephew, Who swore to me he was to be your Heir.

Sir _Tim_. My Heir, Madam! am I so visibly old to be so desperate? No, I’m in my years of desires and discretion, And I have thoughts, durst I but utter ‘em; But modestly say, Mum--

_Dia_. I took him for the hopefullest Gentleman--

Sir _Tim_. Let him hope on, so will I; and yet, Madam, in consideration of your Love to him, and because he is my Nephew, young, handsome, witty, and so forth, I am content to be so much a Parent to him, as if Heaven please,--to see him fairly hang’d.

_Dia_. How, Sir! [_In amaze_.

Sir _Tim_. He has deserv’d it, Madam: First, for lampooning the Reverend City with its noble Government, with the Right Honourable Gown-men; libelling some for Feasting, and some for Fasting, some for Cuckolds, and some for Cuckold-makers; charging us with all the seven deadly Sins, the Sins of our Fore-fathers, adding seven score more to the number; the Sins of Forty-One reviv’d again in Eighty-One, with Additions and Amendments; for which, though the Writings were drawn, by which I made him my whole Executor, I will disinherit him. Secondly, Madam, he deserves hanging for seducing, and most feloniously bearing away a young City-Heiress.

_Dia_. Undone, undone! Oh, with what Face can I return again! What Man of Wealth or Reputation, now Will think me worth the owning! [_Feigns to weep_.

Sir _Tim_. Yes, yes, Madam, there are honest, discreet, religious, and true Protestant Knights in the City, that wou’d be proud to dignify and distinguish so worthy a Gentlewoman. [Bowing and smiling.

_Bet_. Look to your hits, and take fortune by the forelock, Madam. [_Aside_. --Alas, Madam, no Knight, and poor too!

Sir _Tim_. As a Tory Poet.

_Bet_. Well, Madam, take Comfort; if the worst come to the worst, you have Estate enough for both.

_Dia_. Ay, Betty, were he but honest, Betty. [_Weeping_.

Sir _Tim_. Honest! I think he will not steal; but for his Body, the Lord have mercy upon’t, for he has none.

_Dia_. ‘Tis evident, I am betray’d, abus’d; H’as lookt and sigh’d, and talkt away my Heart; H’as sworn, and vow’d, and flatter’d me to ruin. [_Weeping_.

Sir _Tim_. A small fault with him; he has flatter’d and sworn me out of many a fair Thousand: why, he has no more Conscience than a Politician, nor no more Truth than a Narrative (under the Rose).

_Dia_. Is there no Truth nor Honesty i’th’ World?

Sir _Tim_. Troth, very little, and that lies all i’th’ City amongst us sober Magistrates.

_Dia_. Were I a Man, how wou’d I be reveng’d!

Sir _Tim_. Your Ladyship might do it better as you are were I worthy to advise you.

_Dia_. Name it.

Sir _Tim_. Why, by marrying your Ladyship’s most assur’d Friend, and most humble Servant, _Timothy Treat-all_ of London, Alderman. [_Bowing_.

_Bet_. Ay, this is something, Mistress; here’s Reason.

_Dia_. But I have given my Faith and Troth to _Wilding, Betty_.

Sir _Tim_. Faith and Troth! We stand upon neither Faith nor Troth in the City, Lady. I have known an Heiress married and bedded, and yet with the Advice of the wiser Magistrates, has been unmarried and consummated anew with another, so it stands with our Interest: ‘tis Law by Magna Charta. Nay, had you married my ungracious Nephew, we might by this our Magna Charta have hang’d him for a Rape.

_Dia_. What, though he had my Consent?

Sir _Tim_. That’s nothing, he had not ours.

_Dia_. Then shou’d I marry you by stealth, the Danger wou’d be the same.

Sir _Tim_. No, no, Madam, we never accuse one another; ‘tis the poor Rogues, the Tory Rascals we always hang. Let ‘em accuse me if they please; alas, I come off hand-smooth with Ignoramus.

_Enter_ Jervice.

_Jer_. Sir, there’s such a calling for your Worship! They are all very merry, the Glasses go briskly about.

Sir _Tim_. Go, go, I’ll come when all the Healths are past; I love no Healths.

_Jer_. They are all over, Sir, and the Ladies are for dancing; so they are all adjourning from the Dining-room hither, as more commodious for that Exercise. I think they’re coming, Sir.

Sir _Tim_. Hah, coming! Call _Sensure_ to wait on the Lady to her Apartment.--

[_Enter_ Sensure.]

And, Madam, I do most heartily recommend my most humble Address to your most judicious Consideration, hoping you will most vigorously, and with all your might, maintain the Rights and Privileges of the Honourable City; and not suffer the Force or Persuasion of any Arbitrary Lover whatsoever, to subvert their antient and Fundamental Laws, by seducing and forcibly bearing away so rich and so illustrious a Lady: and, Madam, we will unanimously stand by you with our Lives and Fortunes.--This I learnt from a Speech at the Election of a Burgess. [_Aside_.

[_Leads her to the Door; She goes out with_ Betty _and_ Sensure. _Enter Musick playing, Sir_ Anthony Meriwill _dancing with a Lady in his Hand, Sir_ Charles with Lady_ Galliard, _several other Women and Men_.

Sir _Anth_. [_singing_.]

Philander _was a jolly Swain, And lov’d by ev’ry Lass; Whom when he met along the Plain, He laid upon the Grass.

And here he kist, and there he play’d With this and then the t’other, Till every wanton smiling Maid At last became a Mother.

And to her Swain, and to her Swain, The Nymph begins to yield; Ruffle, and breathe, then to’t again, Thou’rt Master of the Field_.

[Clapping Sir _Char_, on the back.

Sir _Char_. And if I keep it not, say I’m a Coward, Uncle.

Sir _Anth_. More Wine there, Boys, I’ll keep the Humour up. [_Enter Bottles and Glasses_.

Sir _Tim_. How! young Meriwill so close to the Widow--Madam-- [_Addressing himself to her. Sir_ Char. _puts him by_.

Sir _Char_. Sir Timothy, why, what a Pox dost thou bring that damn’d Puritanical, Schismatical, Fanatical, Small-beer-Face of thine into good Company? Give him a full Glass to the Widow’s Health.

Sir _Tim_. O lack, Sir _Charles_, no Healths for me, I pray.

Sir _Char_. Hark ye, leave that cozening, canting, sanctify’d Sneer of yours, and drink ye me like a sober loyal Magistrate, all those Healths you are behind, from his sacred Majesty, whom God long preserve, with the rest of the Royal Family, even down to this wicked Widow, whom Heaven soon convert from her leud designs upon my Body. [_Pulling Sir_ Tim. _to kneel_.

Sir _Anth_. A rare Boy! he shall have all my Estate.

Sir _Tim_. How, the Widow a leud design upon his Body! Nay, then I am jealous. [_Aside_.

L. _Gal_. I a leud design upon your Body; for what, I wonder?

Sir _Char_. Why, for villanous Matrimony.

L. _Gal_. Who, I?

Sir _Char_. Who, you! yes, you. Why are those Eyes drest in inviting Love? Those soft bewitching Smiles, those rising Breasts, And all those Charms that make you so adorable, Is’t not to draw Fools into Matrimony?

Sir _Anth_. How’s that, how’s that! _Charles_ at his Adorables and Charms! He must have t’other Health, he’ll fall to his old Dog-trot again else. Come, come, every man his Glass; Sir Timothy, you are six behind: Come, come, _Charles_, name ‘em all.

[_Each take a Glass, and force Sir_ Tim. _on his knees_.

Sir _Char_.--Not bate ye an Ace, Sir. Come, his Majesty’s Health, and Confusion to his Enemies. [_They go to force his Mouth open to drink_.

Sir _Tim_. Hold, Sir, hold, if I must drink, I must; but this is very arbitrary, methinks. [_Drinks_.

Sir _Anth_. And now, Sir, to the Royal Duke of Albany. Musick, play a Scotch Jig. [_Music plays, they drink_.

Sir _Tim_. This is mere Tyranny.

_Enter_ Jervice.

_Jer_. Sir, there is alighted at the Gate a Person of Quality, as appears by his Train, who give him the Title of a Lord.

Sir _Tim_. How, a strange Lord! Conduct him up with Ceremony, _Jervice_-- ’.ds so, he’s here!

_Enter_ Wilding _in disguise_, Dresswell, _and Footmen and Pages_.

_Wild_. Sir, by your Reverend Aspect, you shou’d be the renown’d Mester de Hotel.

Sir _Tim_. Mater de Otell! I have not the Honour to know any of that Name, I am call’d Sir _Timothy Treat-all_. [_Bowing_.

_Wild_. The same, Sir; I have been bred abroad, and thought all Persons of Quality had spoke French.

Sir _Tim_. Not City Persons of Quality, my Lord.

_Wild_. I’m glad on’t, Sir; for ‘tis a Nation I hate, as indeed I do all Monarchies.

Sir _Tim_. Hum! hate Monarchy! Your Lordship is most welcome. [_Bows_.

_Wild_. Unless Elective Monarchies, which so resemble a Commonwealth.

Sir _Tim_. Right, my Lord; where every Man may hope to take his turn-- Your Lordship is most singularly welcome. [_Bows low_.

_Wild_. And though I am a Stranger to your Person, I am not to your Fame, amongst the sober Party of the Amsterdamians, all the French Hugonots throughout Geneva; even to Hungary and Poland, Fame’s Trumpet sounds your Praise, making the Pope to fear, the rest admire you.

Sir _Anth_. I’m much oblig’d to the renowned Mobile.

_Wild_. So you will say, when you shall hear my Embassy. The Polanders by me salute you, Sir, and have in this next new Election prick’d ye down for their succeeding King.

Sir _Tim_. How, my Lord, prick’d me down for a King! Why, this is wonderful! Prick’d me, unworthy me down for a King! How cou’d I merit this amazing Glory!

_Wild_. They know, he that can be so great a Patriot to his Native Country, where but a private Person, what must he be when Power is on his side?

Sir _Tim_. Ay, my Lord, my Country, my bleeding Country! there’s the stop to all my rising Greatness. Shall I be so ungrateful to disappoint this big expecting Nation? defeat the sober Party, and my Neighbours, for any Polish Crown? But yet, my Lord, I will consider on’t: Mean time my House is yours.

_Wild_. I’ve brought you, Sir, the Measure of the Crown: Ha, it fits you to a Hair. [_Pulls out a Ribband, measures his Head_. You were by Heav’n and Nature fram’d that Monarch.

Sir _Anth_. Hah, at it again! [_Sir_ Charles _making sober Love_. Come, we grow dull, _Charles_; where stands the Glass? What, balk my Lady _Galliard’s_ Health! [_They go to drink_.

_Wild_. Hah, _Galliard_--and so sweet on Meriwill! [_Aside_.

L. _Gal_. If it be your business, Sir, to drink, I’ll withdraw.

Sir _Char_. Gad, and I’ll withdraw with you, Widow. Hark ye, Lady _Galliard_, I am damnably afraid you cannot bear Liquor well, you are so forward to leave good Company and a Bottle.

Sir _Tim_. Well, Gentlemen, since I have done what I never do, to oblige you, I hope you will not refuse a Health of my Denomination.

Sir _Anth_. We scorn to be so uncivil. [_All take the Glasses_.

Sir _Tim_. Why then here’s a conceal’d Health that shall be nameless, to his Grace the King of Poland.

Sir _Char_. King of Poland! Lord, Lord, how your Thoughts ramble!

Sir _Tim_. Not so far as you imagine; I know what I say, Sir.

Sir _Char_. Away with it. [_Drink all_.

_Wild_. I see, Sir, you still keep up that English Hospitality that so renowned our Ancestors in History. [_Looking on L_. Gal.

Sir _Tim_. Ay, my Lord, my noble Guests are my Wife and Children.

_Wild_. Are you not married, then? Death, she smiles on him. [_Aside_.

Sir _Tim_. I had a Wife, but rest her Soul, she’s dead; and I have no Plague left now but an ungracious Nephew, perverted with ill Customs, Tantivy Opinions, and Court-Notions.

_Wild_. Cannot your pious Examples convert him? By Heaven, she’s fond of him! [_Aside_.

Sir _Tim_. Alas, I have try’d all ways, fair and foul; nay, had settled t’other Day my whole Estate upon him, and just as I had sign’d the Writings, out comes me a damn’d Libel, call’d, A Warning to all good Christians against the City-Magistrates; and I doubt he had a Hand in Absalom and Achitophel, a Rogue. But some of our sober Party have claw’d him home, i’ faith, and given him Rhyme for his Reason.

_Wild_. Most visibly in Love! Oh, Sir, Nature, Laws, and Religion plead for so near a Kinsman.

Sir _Tim_. Laws and Religion! Alas, my Lord, he deserves not the Name of a Patriot, who does not for the publick Good, defy all Laws and Religion.

_Wild_. Death, I must interrupt ‘em--Sir, pray what Lady’s that. [Wild, salutes her.

Sir _Tim_. I beseech your Lordship know her, ‘tis my Lady _Galliard_; the rest are all my Friends and Neighbours, true Protestants all--Well, my Lord, how do you like my Method of doing the business of the Nation, and carrying on the Cause with Wine, Women, and so forth?

_Wild_. High Feeding and smart Drinking, gains more to the Party, than your smart Preaching.

Sir _Tim_. Your Lordship has hit it right: a rare Man this!

_Wild_. But come, Sir, leave serious Affairs, and oblige these fair ones.

[_Addresses himself to_ Galliard, _Sir_ Charles _puts him by. Enter_ Charlot _disguised_, Clacket _and_ Foppington.

Sir _Char_. Heavens, Clacket, yonder’s my False one, and that my lovely Rival. [_Pointing to_ Wild, _and L_. Gal.

_Enter_ Diana _and_ Sensure _masked, and_ Betty.

_Dia_. Dear Mrs. _Sensure_, this Favour has oblig’d me.

_Sen_. I hope you’ll not discover it to his Worship, Madam.

_Wild_. By her Mien, this shou’d be handsome-- [_Goes to_ Diana.] Madam, I hope you have not made a Resolution to deny me the Honour of your Hand.

_Dia_. Ha, _Wilding_! Love can discover thee through all Disguise.

_Wild_. Hah, _Diana_! wou’d ‘twere Felony to wear a Vizard. Gad, I’d rather meet it on the King’s Highway, with Stand and Deliver, than thus encounter it on the Face of an old Mistress; and the Cheat were more excusable--But how-- [_Talks aside with her_.

Sir _Char_. Nay, never frown nor chide: For thus do I intend to shew my Authority, till I have made thee only fit for me.

_Wild_. Is’t so, my precious Uncle? Are you so great a Devil in Hypocrisy? Thus had I been serv’d, had I brought him the right Woman. [_Aside_.

_Dia_. But do not think, dear _Tommy_, I wou’d have serv’d thee so; married thy Uncle, and have cozen’d thee of thy Birth-right--But see, we’re observ’d.

[Charlot _listening behind him all this while_.

_Char_. By all that’s good ‘tis he! that Voice is his! [_He going from_ Dian. _turns upon_ Charlot, _and looks_.

_Wild_. Hah, what pretty Creature’s this, that has so much of _Charlot_ in her Face? But sure she durst not venture; ‘tis not her Dress nor Mien. Dear pretty Stranger, I must dance with you.

_Char_. Gued deed, and see ye shall, Sir, gen you please. Though I’s not dance, Sir, I’s tell ya that noo.

_Wild_. Nor I, so we’re well matcht. By Heaven, she’s wondrous like her.

_Char_. By th’ Mass not so kind, Sir: ‘Twere gued that ene of us shou’d dance to guid the other weel.

_Wild_. How young, how innocent and free she is! And wou’d you, fair one, be guided by me?

_Char_. In any thing that gued is.

_Wild_. I love you extremely, and wou’d teach you to love.

_Char_. Ah, wele aday! [_Sighs and smiles_.

_Wild_. A thing I know you do not understand.

_Char_. Gued faith, and ya’re i’th’ right, Sir; yet ‘tis a thing I’s often hear ya gay men talk of.

_Wild_. Yes, and no doubt have been told those pretty Eyes inspired it.

_Char_. Gued deed, and so I have! Ya men make sa mickle ado about ens Eyes, ways me, I’s ene tir’d with sick-like Complements.

_Wild_. Ah, if you give us wounds, we must complain.

_Char_. Ye may ene keep out a harms way then.

_Wild_. Oh, we cannot; or if we cou’d, we wou’d not.

_Char_. Marry, and I’s have ene a Song tol that tune, Sir.

_Wild_. Dear Creature, let me beg it.

_Char_. Gued faith, ya shall not, Sir, I’s sing without entreaty.

SONG.

_Ah, Jenny, gen your Eyes do kill, You’ll let me tell my Pain; Gued Faith, I lov’d against my Will, But wad not break my Chain. I ence was call’d a bonny Lad, Till that fair Face of yours Betray’d the Freedom ence I had, And ad my bleether Howers.

But noo ways me like Winter looks, My gloomy showering Eyne, And on the Banks of shaded Brooks I pass my wearied time. I call the Stream that gleedeth on, To witness if it see, On all the flowry Brink along, A Swain so true as lee_.

_Wild_. This very Swain am I, so true and so forlorn, unless ye pity me.--This is an excellency _Charlot_ wants, at least I never heard her sing. [_Aside_.

Sir _Anth_. Why, _Charles_, where stands the Woman, _Charles_? [Fop. _comes up to_ Charlot.

_Wild_. I must speak to _Galliard_, though all my Fortunes depend on the Discovery of my self. [_Aside_.

Sir _Anth_. Come, come, a cooling Glass about.

_Wild_. Dear _Dresswell_, entertain _Charles Meriwill_ a little, whilst I speak to _Galliard_. [_The Men go all to the drinking Table_. By Heaven, I die, I languish for a Word! --Madam, I hope you have not made a Vow To speak with none but that young Cavalier. They say, the Freedom English Ladies use, Is, as their Beauty, great.

L. _Gal_. Sir, we are none of those of so nice and delicate a Virtue, as Conversation can corrupt; we live in a cold Climate.

_Wild_. And think you’re not so apt to be in Love, As where the Sun shines oftner. But you too much partake of the Inconstancy of this your fickle Climate. [_Maliciously to her_. One day all Sun-shine, and th’ encourag’d Lover Decks himself up in glittering Robes of Hope; And in the midst of all their boasted Finery Comes a dark Cloud across his Mistress’ Brow, Dashes the Fool, and spoils the gaudy Show. [L. Gal. _observing him nearly_.

L. _Gal_. Hah, do I not know that railing Tongue of yours?

_Wild_. ‘Tis from your Guilt, not Judgment then. I was resolv’d to be to night a Witness Of that sworn Love you flatter’d me so often with. By Heaven, I saw you playing with my Rival, Sigh’d, and lookt Babies in his gloating Eyes. When is the Assignation? When the Hours? For he’s impatient as the raging Sea, Loose as the Winds, and amorous as the Sun, That kisses all the Beauties of the Spring.

L. _Gal_. I take him for a sober Person, Sir.

_Wild_. Have I been the Companion of his Riots In all the leud course of our early Youth, Where like unwearied Bees we gather’d Flowers? But no kind Blossom could oblige our stay, We rifled and were gone.

L. _Gal_. Your Virtues I perceive are pretty equal; Only his Love’s the honester o’th’ two.

_Wild_. Honester! that is, he wou’d owe his good Fortune to the Parson of the Parish; And I would be oblig’d to you alone. He wou’d have a Licence to boast he lies with you, And I wou’d do’t with Modesty and Silence: For Virtue’s but a Name kept free from Scandal, Which the most base of Women best preserve, Since Jilting and Hypocrisy cheat the World best. --But we both love, and who shall blab the Secret? [_In a soft Tone_.

L. _Gal_. Oh, why were all the Charms of speaking given To that false Tongue that makes no better use of ‘em? --I’ll hear no more of your inchanting Reasons.

_Wild_. You must.

L. _Gal_. I will not.

_Wild_. Indeed you must.

L. _Gal_. By all the Powers above--

_Wild_. By all the Powers of Love you’ll break your Oath, Unless you swear this Night to let me see you.

L. _Gal_. This Night.

_Wild_. This very Night.

L. _Gal_. I’d die first--At what Hour?

[_First turns away, then sighs and looks on him_.

_Wild_. Oh, name it; and if I fail-- [_With Joy_.

L. _Gal_. I wou’d not for the World--

_Wild_. That I shou’d fail!

L. _Gal_. Not name the guilty Hour.

_Wild_. Then I through eager haste shall come too soon, And do your Honour wrong.

L. _Gal_. My Honour! Oh, that Word!

_Wild_. Which the Devil was in me for naming. [_Aside_. --At Twelve.

L. _Gal_. My Women and my Servants then are up.

_Wild_. At One, or Two.

L. _Gal_. So late! ‘twill be so quickly Day!

_Wild_. Ay, so it will; That half our Business will be left unfinisht.

L. _Gal_. Hah, what do you mean? what Business?

_Wild_. A thousand tender things I have to say; A thousand Vows of my eternal Love; And now and then we’ll kiss and--

L. _Gal_. Be extremely honest.

_Wild_. As you can wish.

L. _Gal_. Rather as I command: for should he know my wish, I were undone. [_Aside_.

_Wild_. The Sign--

L. _Gal_. Oh, press me not--yet you may come at Midnight under my Chamber-Window.

[_Sir_ Char. _sees ‘em so close, comes to ‘em_.

Sir _Char_. Hold, Sir, hold! Whilst I am listning to the Relation of your French Fortifications, Outworks, and Counterscarps, I perceive the Enemy in my Quarters--My Lord, by your leave. [_Puts him by, growing drunk_.

_Char_. Persuade me not; I burst with Jealousy. [Wild. _turns, sees_ Clacket.

_Wild_. Death and the Devil, Clacket! then ‘tis _Charlot_, and I’m discover’d to her.

_Char_. Say, are you not a false dissembling thing? [_To_ Wild. _in anger_.

_Wild_. What, my little Northern Lass translated into English! This ‘tis to practise Art in spite of Nature. Alas, thy Vertue, Youth, and Innocence, Were never made for Cunning, I found ye out through all your forc’d disguise.

_Char_. Hah, did you know me then?

_Wild_. At the first glance, and found you knew me too, And talkt to yonder Lady in revenge, Whom my Uncle would have me marry. But to avoid all Discourses of that nature, I came to Night in this Disguise you see, to be conceal’d from her; that’s all.

_Char_. And is that all, on Honour? Is it, Dear?

_Wild_. What, no Belief, no Faith in villanous Women?

_Char_. Yes, when I see the Writings.

_Wild_. Go home, I die if you shou’d be discover’d: And credit me, I’ll bring you all you ask. Clacket, you and I must have an old Reckoning about this Night’s Jant of yours. [Aside to Clacket.

Sir _Tim_. Well, my Lord, how do you like our English Beauties?

_Wild_. Extremely, Sir; and was pressing this young Lady to give us a Song.

[_Here is an Italian Song in two Parts_.

Sir _Tim_. I never saw this Lady before: pray who may she be, Neighbour? [_To_ Clacket.

Mrs. _Clack_. A Niece of mine, newly come out of Scotland, Sir.

Sir _Tim_. Nay, then she dances by nature. Gentlemen and Ladies, please you to sit, here’s a young Neighbour of mine will honour us with a Dance. [_They all sit_; Charl. _and_ Fop. _dance_. So, so; very well, very well. Gentlemen and Ladies, I am for Liberty of Conscience, and Moderation. There’s a Banquet waits the Ladies, and my Cellars are open to the Men; but for my self, I must retire; first waiting on your Lordship to shew you your Apartment, then leave you to _cher entire_: and to morrow, my Lord, you and I will settle the Nation, and will resolve on what return we will make to the noble Polanders.

[_Exeunt all but_ Wild. Dres. _and_ Fop. _Sir_ Charles _leading out Lady_ Galliard.

Sir _Anth_. Well said, _Charles_, thou leav’st her not till she’s thy own, Boy--And Philander was a jolly Swain, &c. [_Exit singing_.

_Wild_. All things succeed above my Wish, dear _Frank_, Fortune is kind; and more, _Galliard_ is so; This night crowns all my Wishes. Laboir, are all things ready for our purpose? [_To his Footman_.

_Lab_. Dark Lanthorns, Pistols, Habits and Vizards, Sir.

_Fop_. I have provided Portmantles to carry off the Treasure.

_Dres_. I perceive you are resolv’d to make a thorow-stitcht Robbery on’t.

_Fop_. Faith, if it lie in our way, Sir, we had as good venture a Caper under the Triple-Tree for one as well as t’other.

_Wild_. We must consider on’t. ‘Tis now just struck eleven; within this Hour is the dear Assignation with _Galliard_.

_Dres_. What, whether our Affairs be finish’d or not?

_Wild_. ‘Tis but at next Door; I shall return time enough for that trivial Business.

_Dres_. A trivial Business of some six thousand pound a year?

_Wild_. Trivial to a Woman, _Frank_: no more; do you make as if you went to bed.--Laboir, do you feign to be drunk, and lie on the Hall-table: and when I give the sign, let me softly in.

_Dres_. Death, Sir, will you venture at such a time?

_Wild_. My Life and future Hope--I am resolv’d. Let Politicians plot, let Rogues go on In the old beaten Path of Forty one; Let City Knaves delight in Mutiny, The Rabble bow to old Presbytery; Let petty States be to confusion hurl’d, Give me but Woman, I’ll despise the World.

[_Exeunt_.