SCENE I.--_St. James's Park at night.

_Enter_ RANGER, VINCENT, _and_ DAPPERWIT.

_Ran._ Hang me, if I am not pleased extremely with this new-fashioned caterwauling, this mid-night coursing in the park.

_Vin._ A man may come after supper with his three bottles in his head, reel himself sober, without reproof from his mother, aunt, or grave relation.

_Ran._ May bring his bashful wench, and not have her put out of countenance by the impudent honest women of the town.

_Dap._ And a man of wit may have the better of the dumb show of well-trimmed vest or fair peruke:--no man's now is whitest.

_Ran._ And now no woman's modest or proud; for her blushes are hid, and the rubies on her lips are dyed, and all sleepy and glimmering eyes have lost their attraction.

_Vin._ And now a man may carry a bottle under his arm instead of his hat;--and no observing spruce fop will miss the cravat that lies on one's shoulder, or count the pimples on one's face.

_Dap._ And now the brisk repartee ruins the complaisant cringe, or wise grimace.--Something 'twas, we men of virtue always loved the night.

_Ran._ O blessed season!

_Vin._ For good-fellows.

_Ran._ For lovers.

_Dap._ And for the Muses.

_Ran._ When I was a boy I loved the night so well, I had a strong vocation to be a bellman's apprentice.

_Vin._ I, a drawer.

_Dap._ And I, to attend the waits of Westminster, let me perish!

_Ran._ But why do we not do the duty of this and such other places;--walk, censure, and speak ill of all we meet?

_Dap._ 'Tis no fault of mine, let me perish!

_Vin._ Fy, fy! satirical gentlemen, this is not your time; you cannot distinguish a friend from a fop.

_Dap._ No matter, no matter; they will deserve amongst 'em the worst we can say.

_Ran._ Who comes here, Dapperwit? [_People walk slowly over the stage._

_Dap._ By the toss of his head, training of his feet, and his elbows playing at bo-peep behind his back, it should be my Lord Easy.

_Ran._ And who the woman?

_Dap._ My Lord what-d'ye-call's daughter, that had a child by--

_Vin._ Dapperwit, hold your tongue.

_Ran._ How! are you concerned?

_Vin._ Her brother's an honest fellow, and will drink his glass.

_Ran._ Prithee, Vincent, Dapperwit did not hinder drinking to-night, though he spake against it; why, then, should you interrupt his sport?--Now, let him talk of anybody.

_Vin._ So he will,--till you cut his throat.

_Ran._ Why should you on all occasions thwart him, contemn him, and maliciously look grave at his jests only?

_Vin._ Why does he always rail against my friends, then, and my best friend--a beer-glass?

_Ran._ Dapperwit, be your own advocate: my game, I think, is before me there. [_Exit._

_Dap._ This Ranger, I think, has all the ill qualities of all your town fops;--leaving his company for a spruce lord or a wench.

_Vin._ Nay, if you must rail at your own best friends, I may forgive you railing at mine.

_Enter_ LYDIA _and_ Lady FLIPPANT.--_They walk over the stage._

_Lyd._ False Ranger, shall I find thee here? [_Aside._

_Vin._ Those are women, are they not? [_To_ DAPPER.

_Dap._ The least seems to be my Lucy, sure. [_Aside._

_Vin._ Faith, I think I dare speak to a woman in the dark!--let's try.

_Dap._ They are persons of quality of my acquaintance;--hold!

_Vin._ Nay, if they are persons of quality of your acquaintance, I may be the bolder with 'em. [_The_ Ladies _go off, they follow them._

_Re-enter_ LYDIA _and_ Lady FLIPPANT.

_Lyd._ I come hither to make a discovery to-night.

_L. Flip._ Of my love to you, certainly; for nobody but you could have debauched me to the Park, certainly. I would not return another night, if it were to redeem my dear husband from his grave.

_Lyd._ I believe you:--but to get another, widow.

_L. Flip._ Another husband, another husband, foh!

_Lyd._ There does not pass a night here but many a match is made.

_L. Flip._ That a woman of honour should have the word match in her mouth!--but I hope, madam, the fellows do not make honourable love here, do they? I abominate honourable love, upon my honour.

_Lyd._ If they should make honourable love here, I know you would prevent 'em.

_Re-enter_ VINCENT _and_ DAPPERWIT.--_They walk slowly towards the_ Ladies.

But here come two men will inform you what to do.

_L. Flip._ Do they come?--are they men certainly?

_Lyd._ Prepare for an assault, they'll put you to't.

_L. Flip._ Will they put us to't certainly? I was never put to't yet. If they should put us to't, I should drop down, down, certainly.

_Lyd._ I believe, truly, you would not have power to run away.

_L. Flip._ Therefore I will not stay the push.--They come! they come! oh, the fellows come! [Lady FLIPPANT _runs away,_ LYDIA _follows, and_ VINCENT _and_ DAPPERWIT _after them._

_Re-enter_ Lady FLIPPANT _at the other side, alone._

_L. Flip._ So! I am got off clear! I did not run from the men, but my companion. For all their brags, men have hardly courage to set upon us when our number is equal; now they shall see I defy 'em:--for we women have always most courage when we are alone. But, a pox! the lazy rogues come not! or they are drunk and cannot run. Oh drink! abominable drink! instead of inflaming love, it quenches it; and for one lover it encourages, it makes a thousand impotent. Curse on all wine! even Rhenish wine and sugar--

_Enter_ Sir SIMON ADDLEPLOT, _muffled in a cloak._

But fortune will not see me want; here comes a single bully,--I wish he may stand;--

For now a-nights the jostling nymph is bolder Than modern satyr with his cloak o'er shoulder.

Well met, sir. [_She puts on her mask._

_Sir Sim._ How shall I know that, forsooth? Who are you? do you know me?

_L. Flip._ Who are you? don't you know me?

_Sir Sim._ Not I, faith and troth!

_L. Flip._ I am glad on't; for no man e'er liked a woman the better for having known her before.

_Sir Sim._ Ay, but then one can't be so free with a new acquaintance as with an old one; she may deny one the civility.

_L. Flip._ Not till you ask her.

_Sir Sim._ But I am afraid to be denied.

_L. Flip._ Let me tell you, sir, you cannot disoblige us women more than in distrusting us.

_Sir Sim._ Pish! what should one ask for, when you know one's meaning?--but shall I deal freely with you?

_L. Flip._ I love, of my life, men should deal freely with me; there are so few men will deal freely with one--

_Sir Sim._ Are you not a fireship,[32] a punk, madam?

_L. Flip._ Well, sir, I love raillery.

_Sir Sim._ Faith and troth, I do not rally, I deal freely.

_L. Flip._ This is the time and place for freedom, sir.

_Sir Sim._ Are you handsome?

_L. Flip._ Joan's as good as my lady in the dark, certainly: but men that deal freely never ask questions, certainly.

_Sir Sim._ How then! I thought to deal freely, and put a woman to the question, had been all one.

_L. Flip._ But, let me tell you, those that deal freely indeed, take a woman by--

_Sir Sim._ What, what, what, what?

_L. Flip._ By the hand--and lead her aside.

_Sir Sim._ Now I understand you; come along then.

_Enter behind_ Musicians _with torches._

_L. Flip._ What unmannerly rascals are those that bring light into the Park? 'twill not be taken well from 'em by the women, certainly.--[_Aside._] Still disappointed!

_Sir Sim._ Oh, the fiddles, the fiddles! I sent for them hither to oblige the women, not to offend 'em; for I intend to serenade the whole Park to-night. But my frolic is not without an intrigue, faith and troth: for I know the fiddles will call the whole herd of vizard masks together; and then shall I discover if a strayed mistress of mine be not amongst 'em, whom I treated to-night at the French-house; but as soon as the jilt had eat up my meat and drunk her two bottles, she ran away from me, and left me alone.

_L. Flip._ How! is it he? Addleplot!--that I could not know him by his faith and troth! [_Aside._

_Sir Sim._ Now I would understand her tricks; because I intend to marry her, and should be glad to know what I must trust to.

_L. Flip._ So thou shalt;--but not yet. [_Aside._

_Sir Sim._ Though I can give a great guess already; for if I have any intrigue or sense in me, she is as arrant a jilt as ever pulled pillow from under husband's head, faith and troth. Moreover she is bow-legged, hopper-hipped, and, betwixt pomatum and Spanish red, has a complexion like a Holland cheese, and no more teeth left than such as give a _haut goût_ to her breath; but she is rich, faith and troth.

_L. Flip._ [_Aside._] Oh rascal! he has heard somebody else say all this of me. But I must not discover myself, lest I should be disappointed of my revenge; for I will marry him. [_The_ Musicians _approaching, exit_ FLIPPANT.

_Sir Sim._ What, gone!--come then, strike up, my lads.

_Enter_ Men _and_ Women _in vizards--a Dance, during which_ Sir SIMON ADDLEPLOT, _for the most part, stands still in a cloak and vizard; but sometimes goes about peeping, and examining the_ Women's _clothes--the Dance ended, all exeunt._

_Re-enter_ Lady FLIPPANT _and_ LYDIA, _after them_ VINCENT _and_ DAPPERWIT.

_L. Flip._ [_To_ LYDIA.] Nay, if you stay any longer, I must leave you again. [_Going off._

_Vin._ We have overtaken them at last again. These are they: they separate too; and that's but a challenge to us.

_Dap._ Let me perish! ladies--

_Lyd._ Nay, good madam, let's unite, now here's the common enemy upon us.

_Vin._ Damn me! ladies--

_Dap._ Hold, a pox! you are too rough.--Let me perish! ladies--

_Lyd._ Not for want of breath, gentlemen:--we'll stay rather.

_Dap._ For want of your favour rather, sweet ladies.

_L. Flip._ [_Aside._] That's Dapperwit, false villain! but he must not know I am here. If he should, I should lose his thrice agreeable company, and he would run from me as fast as from the bailiffs. [_To_ LYDIA.] What! you will not talk with 'em, I hope?

_Lyd._ Yes, but I will.

_L. Flip._ Then you are a Park-woman certainly, and you will take it kindly if I leave you.

_Lyd._ No, you must not leave me.

_L. Flip._ Then you must leave them.

_Lyd._ I'll see if they are worse company than you, first.

_L. Flip._ Monstrous impudence!--will you not come? [_Pulls_ LYDIA.

_Vin._ Nay, madam, I never suffer any violence to be used to a woman but what I do myself: she must stay, and you must not go.

_L. Flip._ Unhand me, you rude fellow!

_Vin._ Nay, now I am sure you will stay and be kind; for coyness in a woman is as little sign of true modesty, as huffing in a man is of true courage.

_Dap._ Use her gently, and speak soft things to her.

_Lyd._ [_Aside._] Now do I guess I know my coxcomb.--[_To_ DAPPERWIT.] Sir, I am extremely glad I am fallen into the hands of a gentleman that can speak soft things; and this is so fine a night to hear soft things in;--morning, I should have said.

_Dap._ It will not be morning, dear madam, till you pull off your mask.--[_Aside._] That I think was brisk.

_Lyd._ Indeed, dear sir, my face would frighten back the sun.

_Dap._ With glories more radiant than his own.--[_Aside._] I keep up with her, I think.

_Lyd._ But why would you put me to the trouble of lighting the world, when I thought to have gone to sleep?

_Dap._ You only can do it, dear madam, let me perish!

_Lyd._ But why would you (of all men) practise treason against your friend Phœbus, and depose him for a mere stranger?

_Dap._ I think she knows me. [_Aside._

_Lyd._ But he does not do you justice, I believe; and you are so positively cock-sure of your wit, you would refer to a mere stranger your plea to the bay-tree.

_Dap._ She jeers me, let me perish! [_Aside._

_Vin._ Dapperwit, a little of your aid; for my lady's invincibly dumb.

_Dap._ Would mine had been so too! [_Aside._

_Vin._ I have used as many arguments to make her speak, as are requisite to make other women hold their tongues.

_Dap._ Well, I am ready to change sides.--Yet before I go, madam, since the moon consents now I should see your face, let me desire you to pull off your mask; which to a handsome lady is a favour, I'm sure.

_Lyd._ Truly, sir, I must not be long in debt to you for the obligation; pray let me hear you recite some of your verses; which to a wit is a favour, I'm sure.

_Dap._ Madam, it belongs to your sex to be obliged first; pull off your mask, and I'll pull out my paper.--[_Aside._] Brisk again, of my side.

_Lyd._ 'Twould be in vain, for you would want a candle now.

_Dap._ [_Aside._] I dare not make use again of the lustre of her face.--[_To_ LYDIA.] I'll wait upon you home then, madam.

_Lyd._ Faith, no; I believe it will not be much to our advantages to bring my face or your poetry to light: for I hope you have yet a pretty good opinion of my face, and so have I of your wit. But if you are for proving your wit, why do not you write a play?

_Dap._ Because 'tis now no more reputation to write a play, than it is honour to be a knight. Your true wit despises the title of poet, as much as your true gentleman the title of knight; for as a man may be a knight and no gentleman, so a man may be a poet and no wit, let me perish!

_Lyd._ Pray, sir, how are you dignified or distinguished amongst the rates of wits? and how many rates are there?

_Dap._ There are as many degrees of wits as of lawyers: as there is first your solicitor, then your attorney, then your pleading-counsel, then your chamber-counsel, and then your judge; so there is first your court-wit, your coffee-wit, your poll-wit, or politic-wit, your chamber-wit, or scribble-wit, and last of all, your judge-wit, or critic.

_Lyd._ But are there as many wits as lawyers? Lord, what will become of us!--What employment can they have? how are they known?

_Dap._ First, your court-wit is a fashionable, insinuating, flattering, cringing, grimacing fellow--and has wit enough to solicit a suit of love; and if he fail, he has malice enough to ruin the woman with a dull lampoon:--but he rails still at the man that is absent, for you must know all wits rail; and his wit properly lies in combing perukes, matching ribbons, and being severe, as they call it, upon other people's clothes.

_Lyd._ Now, what is the coffee-wit?

_Dap._ He is a lying, censorious, gossiping, quibbling wretch, and sets people together by the ears over that sober drink, coffee: he is a wit, as he is a commentator, upon the Gazette; and he rails at the pirates of Algier, the Grand Signior of Constantinople, and the Christian Grand Signior.

_Lyd._ What kind of man is your poll-wit?

_Dap._ He is a fidgetting, busy, dogmatical, hot-headed fop, that speaks always in sentences and proverbs, (as other in similitudes,) and he rails perpetually against the present government. His wit lies in projects and monopolies, and penning speeches for young parliament men.

_Lyd._ But what is your chamber-wit, or scribble-wit?

_Dap._ He is a poring, melancholy, modest sot, ashamed of the world: he searches all the records of wit, to compile a breviate of them for the use of players, printers, booksellers, and sometimes cooks, tobacco-men; he employs his railing against the ignorance of the age, and all that have more money than he.

_Lyd._ Now your last.

_Dap._ Your judge-wit, or critic, is all these together, and yet has the wit to be none of them: he can think, speak, write, as well as the rest, but scorns (himself a judge) to be judged by posterity: he rails at all the other classes of wits, and his wit lies in damning all but himself:--he is your true wit.

_Lyd._ Then, I suspect you are of his form.

_Dap._ I cannot deny it, madam.

_Vin._ Dapperwit, you have been all this time on the wrong side; for you love to talk all, and here's a lady would not have hindered you.

_Dap._ A pox! I have been talking too long indeed here; for wit is lost upon a silly weak woman, as well as courage. [_Aside._

_Vin._ I have used all common means to move a woman's tongue and mask; I called her ugly, old, and old acquaintance, and yet she would not disprove me:--but here comes Ranger, let him try what he can do; for, since my mistress is dogged, I'll go sleep alone. [_Exit._

_Re-enter_ RANGER.

_Lyd._ [_Aside._] Ranger! 'tis he indeed: I am sorry he is here, but glad I discovered him before I went. Yet he must not discover me, lest I should be prevented hereafter in finding him out. False Ranger!--[_To_ Lady FLIPPANT.] Nay, if they bring fresh force upon us, madam, 'tis time to quit the field. [_Exeunt_ LYDIA _and_ Lady FLIPPANT.

_Ran._ What, play with your quarry till it fly from you!

_Dap._ You frighten it away.

_Ran._ Ha! is not one of those ladies in mourning?

_Dap._ All women are so by this light.

_Ran._ But you might easily discern. Don't you know her?

_Dap._ No.

_Ran._ Did you talk with her?

_Dap._ Yes, she is one of your brisk silly baggages.

_Ran._ 'Tis she, 'tis she!--I was afraid I saw her before; let us follow 'em: prithee make haste.--[_Aside._] 'Tis Lydia. [_Exeunt._

_Re-enter, on the other side_, LYDIA _and_ Lady FLIPPANT--DAPPERWIT _and_ RANGER _following them at a distance._

_Lyd._ They follow us yet, I fear.

_L. Flip._ You do not fear it certainly; otherwise you would not have encouraged them.

_Lyd._ For Heaven's sake, madam, waive your quarrel a little, and let us pass by your coach, and so on foot to your acquaintance in the old Pall-mall[33]: for I would not be discovered by the man that came up last to us. [_Exeunt._