ACT II. SCENE I.

Lady Froth and Cynthia.

Cynt. INDEED, Madam! Is it poffible your Ladyship could have been fo much in Love?

L. Froth. I could not sleep; I did not sleep one wink for three Weeks together.

Cynt. Prodigious! I wonder Want of Sleep, and fo much Love, and fo much Wit as your Ladyship has, did not turn your Brain.

L. Froth. O my dear Cynthia, you must not rally your Friend, But really, as you fay, I wonder too, For between

But then I had a Way.

you and I, I had Whimfies and Vapours, but I gave them Vent.

never write?

Cynt. Write, what?

Do you

L. Frath. Songs, Elegies, Satires, Encomiums, Panegyricks, Lampoons, Plays, or Heroick Poems.

Cynt. O Lord, not I, Madam; I'm content to be a courteous Reader.

L. Froth. O Inconfiftent! In Love, and not write! if my Lord and I had been both of your Temper, we had never come together, O bless me! What a fad thing would that have been, if my Lord and I fhould never have met!

Cynt. Then neither my Lord nor you would ever have met with your Match, on my Confcience.

L. Froth.

L. Froth. O' my Confcience no more we fhould thou fay't right For fure my Lord Froth is as fine a Gentleman, and as much a Man of Quality! Ah! nothing at all of the common Air, I think I may fay helwants nothing, but a blue Ribbon and a Star, to make him fhine, the very Phosphorus of our Hemifphere. understand those two hard Words? If you don't, I'll explain 'em to you.

Do

you

Cynt. Yes, yes, Madam, I'm not fo ignorant,

At least I won't own it, to be troubled with your Inftructions.

[Afide.

L. Froth. Nay, I beg your Pardon; but being deriv'd from the Greek, I thought you might have escap'd the Etymology. - But I'm the more amaz'd to find you a Woman of Letters, and not write! Blefs me! how can Mellefont believe you love him?

Cynt. Why Faith, Madam, he that won't take my Word, fhall never have it under my Hand.

L. Froth. I vow Mellefont's a pretty Gentleman, but methinks he wants a Manner.

Cynt. A Manner! What's that, Madam ?

L. Froth. Some diftinguishing Quality, as for Example, the Bell Air or Brillant of Mr. Brisk; the Solemnity, yet Complaifance of my Lord, or fomething of his own that should look a little Je-ne-fçay quoy; he is too much a Mediocrity, in my Mind.

Cynt. He does not indeed affect either Pertness or Formality; for which I like him: Here he comes, L. Froth. And my Lord with him: Pray observe the Difference.

[To them] Lord Froth, Mellefont, and Brisk.]

Cynt. Impertinent Creature! I could almost be angry with her now. [Afide. L. Froth. My Lord, I have been telling Cynthia, bow much I have been in love with you; I fwear I have; I'm not afham'd to own it now; Ah! it makes my Heart leap, I vow, I figh when I think on't: My dear Lord, ha, ha, ha, do you remember, my Lord? | [Squeezes him by the Hand, looks kindly on him, fighs and then laughs out.

Ld. Froth. Pleafant Creature! perfectly well, ah! that Look, ay, there it is; who could refift! 'twas fo my Heart was made Captive first, and ever fince 't has been in love with happy Slavery.

L. Froth. O that Tongue! that dear deceitful Tongue! that charming Softnefs in your Mien and your Expreffion, and then your Bow! Good my Lord, bow as you did when I gave you my Picture, here, fuppofe this my. Picture [Gives him a Pocket-Glass. Pray mind my Lord; ah! he bows charmingly; nay, my Lord, you fhan't kifs it so much; I fhall grow jealous, I vow now.

[He bows profoundly low, then kiffes the Glass. Ld. Froth. I faw my self there, and kiss'd it for your fake.

L. Froth. Ah! Galantry to the last Degree

Mr. Brisk, you're a Judge; was ever any thing fo well bred as my Lord ?

Brisk. Never any thing but your Ladyfhip, let me perish.

L. Froth.

L. Froth. O prettily turn'd again; let me die but you have a great deal of Wit: Mr Mellefont, don't you think Mr. Brisk has a world of Wit?

Mel. O, yes, Maḍam.

Brisk. O dear Madam

L. Froth. An infinite deal.
Brisk. O Heav'ns, Madam

L. Froth. More Wit than any Body.

Brisk. I'm everlaftingly your humble Servant, duce take me, Madam.

Ld. Froth. Don't you think us a happy Couple?

Cynt. I vow, my Lord, I think you the happiest Couple in the World, for you're not only happy in one another, and when you are together, but happy in your felves, and by your felves.

Ld. Froth. 1 hope Mellefont will make a good Hus.

band too.

Cynt. 'Tis my Interest to believe he will, my Lord. Ld. Froth. D'ye think he'll love you as well as I do my Wife I'm afraid not.

Cynt. I believe he'll love me better.

Ld. Froth. Heav'ns! that can never be; but why do you think fo?

Cynt. Because he has not fo much reafon to be fond of himself.

Ld. Froth. O your humble Servant for that, dear Madam; well, Mellefont, you'll be a happy Crea

ture.

Mel. Ay, my Lord, I fhall have the fame Reason for my Happiness that your Lordship has, I fhall think my self happy.

Ld. Froth. Ah, that's all.

Brisk. [To Lady Froth.] Your Ladyfhip's in the right; but I'gad I'm wholly turn'd into Satire. I confess I write but feldom, but when I do keen Iambicks I'gad. But my Lord was telling me, your Ladyship has made an Effay toward an Heroick Poem. L. Froth

B 4.

L. Froth. Did my Lord tell you? Yes I vow, and the Subject is my Lord's Love to me. And what do you think I call it? I dare fwear you won't guess

The Sillabub, ha, ha, ha.

Brisk. Because my Lord's Title's Froth, l'gad; ha, ha, ha, duce take me, very à propos and surprizing, ha, ha, ha.

L. Froth. He, ay, is it not?

and then I call my Lord Spumofo; and my felf, what d'ye think I call my felf?

Brisk. Latilla may be

tell.

'gad I cannot

Duce

L. Froth. Biddy, that's all; juft my own Name.
Brisk. Biddy! I'gad very pretty

take me if your Ladyfhip has not the Art of furprifing the most naturally in the World,

I

hope you will make me happy in communicating the Poem.

L. Froth. O you must be my Confident, I muft ask your Advice.

Brisk. I'm your humble Servant, let me perish,

I prefume your Ladyfhip has read Boffa?

L. Froth. O yes and Rapine, and Dacier upon Ariftotle and Horace. My Lord, you must not be jealous, I'm communicating all to Mr. Brisk.

Ld. Froth. No, no, I'll allow Mr. Brisk; have you nothing about you to fhew him, my Dear?

L. Froth. Yes, I believe I have. Mr. Brisk, come will you go into the next Room? and there I'll fhew you what I have.

Ld. Froth. I'll walk a Turn in the Garden, and come to you.

SCENE