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ACT THE FIFTH.

SCENE I.

The Street before the Playhouse.

MIRABEL and DURETETE, as coming from the Play.

Dur. How d'ye like this play?

Y. Mir. I liked the company;-the lady, the rich beauty, in the front box, had my attention: These impudent poets bring the ladies together to support them, and to kill every body else.

For deaths upon the stage, the ladies cry,

But ne'er mind us, that in the audience die: The poet's hero should not move their pain, But they should weep for those their eyes have slain. Dur. Hoyty, toyty! did Phillis inspire you with all this?

Y. Mir. Ten times more; the playhouse is the element of poetry, because the region of beauty; the ladies, methinks, have a more inspiring, triumphant air in the boxes than any where else they sit, commanding on their thrones, with all their subject slaves. about them :-Their best clothes, best looks, shining jewels, sparkling eyes; the treasure of the world in a ring. I could wish that my whole life long were the first night of a new play.

Dur. The fellow has quite forgot this journey:Have you bespoke post horses?

Y. Mir. Grant me but three days, dear captain, one to discover the lady, one to unfold myself, and one to make me happy, and then I'm yours to the world's end.

Dur. Hast thou the impudence to promise thyself a lady of her figure and quality in so short a time? Y. Mir. Yes, sir; I have a confident address, no disagreeable person, and five hundred louis d'ors in my pocket.

Dur. Five hundred louis d'ors! you an't mad!

Y. Mir. I tell you, she's worth five thousand; one of her black, brilliant eyes is worth a diamond as big as her head.

Dur. But you have owned to me, that, abating Oriana's pretensions to marriage, you loved her passionately; then how can you wander at this rate?

Y. Mir. I longed for a partridge t'other day, off the king's plate; but d'ye think, because I could not have it, I must eat nothing?

Enter ORIANA, in Boy's Clothes, with a Letter. Oriana. Is your name Mirabel, sir?

Y. Mir. Yes, sir.

Oriana. A letter from your uncle, in Picardy.

Y. Mir. [Reads.]

[Gives the Leiter.

The bearer is the son of a protestant gentleman, who, flying for his religion, left me the charge of this youth.— A pretty boy!He's fond of some handsome service, that may afford him opportunity of improvement: your care of him will oblige,

Hast a mind to travel, child?

Yours.

Oriana. 'Tis my desire, sir; I should be pleased to serve a traveller in any capacity.

Y. Mir. A hopeful inclination; you shall along with me into Italy, as my page.

Dur. [Noise without.] Too handsome-The play's done, and some of the ladies come this way.

[LAMORCE without, with her Train borne up by a PAGE.

Y. Mir. Duretete, the very dear, identical she!
Dur. And what then?

Y. Mir. Why, 'tis she!

Dur. And what then, sir?

Y. Mir. Then! Why, lookye, sirrab, the first piece of service I put upon you, is to follow that lady's coach, and bring me word where she lives.

[TO ORIANA. Oriana. I don't know the town, sir, and am afraid

of losing myself.

Y. Mir. Pshaw !

Enter LAMORCE and PAGE.

Lam. Page, what's become of all my people? Page. I can't tell, madam; I can see no sign of your ladyship's coach.

Lam. That fellow has got into his old pranks, and fallen drunk somewhere;-none of the footmen there? Page. Not one, madam.

Lam. These servants are the plague of our lives— what shall I do?

Y. Mir. By all my hopes, Fortune pimps for me! Now, Duretete, for a piece of gallantry!

Dur. Why, you won't, sure?

Y. Mir. Won't, brute! Let not your servants' neglect, madam, put your ladyship to any inconvenience; for you can't be disappointed of an equipage, whilst mine waits below: and, would you honour the master so far, he would be proud to pay his attendance. Dur: Ay, to be sure! [Aside. Lam. Sir, I won't presume to be troublesome, for my habitation is a great way off.

Dur. Very true, madam, and he's a little engaged; besides, madam-a hackney coach will do as well, madam.

Y. Mir. Rude beast, be quiet! [To DURETETE.] The farther from home, madam, the more occasion you have for a guard-Pray, madam

Lam. Lard, sir

[He seems to press, she to decline it, in dumb show. Dur. Ah! The devil's in his impudence! Now he wheedles, she smiles-he flatters, she simpers-he swears, she believes he's a rogue, and she's a w in a moment.

me joy!

Y. Mir. Without there! my coach!-Duretete, wish [Hands the Lady out. Dur. Wish you a ----- ! Here, you little Picard, go follow your master, and he'll lead you Oriana. Whither, sir?

Dur. To the Academy, child-'tis the fashion with men of quality to teach their pages their exercisesgo.

Oriana. Won't you go with him too, sir? That woman may do him some harm, I don't like her.

Dur. Why, how now, Mr Page, do you start up to give laws of a sudden? Do you pretend to rise at court, and disapprove the pleasure of your betters?Lookye, sirrah, if ever you would rise by a great man, be sure to be with him in his little actions; and, as a step to your advancement, follow your master immediately, and make it your hope that he goes to a bagnie. Oriana. Heavens forbid !

{Exit.

Dur. Now would I sooner take a cart in company of the hangman, than a coach with that woman:--What a strange antipathy have I taken against these creatures! A woman to me, is aversion upon aversion! a cheese, a cat, a breast of mutton, the squalling of chil dren, the grinding of knives, and the snuff of a candle. [Exit.

SCENE 11.

LAMORCE'S Lodgings.

Enter MIRABEL and LAMOrce.

Lam. To convince me, sir, that your service was something more than good breeding, please to lay out

an hour of your company upon my desire, as you have already upon my necessity.

Y. Mir. Your desire, madam, has only prevented my request:- My hours! Make them yours, madam, eleven, twelve, one, two, three, and all that belong to those happy minutes.

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Lam. But I must trouble you, sir, to dismiss your retinue, because an equipage at my door, at this time of night, will not be consistent with my reputation. Y. Mir. By all means, madam, all but one little boy-Here, page!

my

Enter ORIANA.

Order coach and servants home, and do you stay; 'tis a foolish country boy, that knows nothing but in

nocence.

Lam. Innocence, sir! I should be sorry if you made any sinister constructions of my freedom.

Y. Mir. O, madam, I must not pretend to remark upon any body's freedom, having so entirely forfeited my own.

Lam. Well, sir, 'twere convenient towards our easy correspondence, that we entered into a free confidence of each other, by a mutual declaration of what we are, and what we think of one another.-Now, sir, what are you?

Y. Mir. In three words, madam,-I am a gentleman, and have five hundred pounds in my pocket. Lam. And your name is

Y. Mir. Mustapha.-Now, madam, the inventory of your fortunes?

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Lam. My name is Lamorce-my birth noble; I was married young to a proud, rude, sullen, impetuous fellow; the husband spoiled the gentleman;crying ruined my face, till at last I took heart, leaped out of a window, got away to my friends, sued my tyrant, and recovered my fortune.-I lived from fifteen to twenty, to please a husband; from twenty

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