to him] if thau hast a mind to try thy fartune, to be revenged of me, I won't take it ill, stap my (vitals!

Love. You need not fear, sir; I'm too fond of my own wife to have the least inclination to yours. [All salute Miss HOYDEN.

Lord Fop. [Aside.] I'd give a thousand paund he would make love to her, that he may see she has sense enough to prefer me to him, though his own wife has not.-[Viewing him.] He's a very beastly fellow, in my opinion.

Hoyd. [Aside.] What a power of fine men there are in this London! He that kissed me first is a goodly gentleman, I promise you. Sure those wives have a rare time on't that live here always.

Enter Sir TUNBELLY CLUMSEY, with Musicians, Dancers, &c.

Sir Tun. Come, come in, good people, come in! Come tune your fiddles, tune your fiddles! -[To the hautboys.] Bagpipes, make ready there. Come, strike up.

For this is Hoyden's wedding-day,
And therefore we keep holiday,
And come to be merry.

[Sings.

Ha! there's my wench, I'faith. Touch and take, I'll warrant her; she'll breed like a tame rabbit. Hoyd. [Aside.] Ecod, I think my father's gotten drunk before supper.

Sir Tun. [To LOVELESS and WORTHY.] Gentlemen, you are welcome.-[Saluting AMANDA and BERINTHIA.] Ladies, by your leave.Aside.] Ha! they bill like turtles. Udsookers, they set my old blood a-fire; I shall cuckold somebody before morning.

Lord Fop. [To Sir TUNBELLY.] Sir, you being master of the entertainment, will you desire the company to sit?

Sir Tun. Oons, sir, I'm the happiest man on this side the Ganges!

Lord Fop. [Aside.] This is a mighty unaccountable old fellow.-[To Sir TUNBELLY.] I said, sir, it would be convenient to ask the company to sit.

Sir Tun. Sit!-with all my heart.-Come, take your places, ladies; take your places, gentlemen. -Come sit down, sit down; a pox of ceremony ! take your places.

[They sit, and the masque begins.

Enter CUPID and HYMEN, with a Chorus of Dancers. Cup. Thou bane to my empire, thou spring of contest,

Thou source of all discord, thou period to rest,
Instruct me, what wretches in bondage can see,
That the aim of their life is still pointed to thee.
Hym. Instruct me, thou little, impertinent god,
From whence all thy subjects have taken the mode
To grow fond of a change, to whatever it be,
And I'll tell thee why those would be bound

are free.

Chorus.

Cup. Were love the reward of a pains-taking life,

Had a husband the art to be fond of his wife,
Were virtue so plenty, a wife could afford,
These very hard times, to be true to her lord,
Some specious account might be given of those
Who are tied by the tail, to be led by the nose.
But since 'tis the fate of a man and his wife,
To consume all their days in contention and strife;
Since, whatever the bounty of Heaven may create

her,

He's morally sure he shall heartily hate her,
I think 'twere much wiser to ramble at large,
And the volleys of love on the herd to discharge.
Hym. Some colour of reason thy counsel might
bear,

Could a man have no more than his wife to his share :

Or were I a monarch so cruelly just,

To oblige a poor wife to be true to her trust;
But I have not pretended, for many years past,
By marrying of people, to make 'em grow chaste.
I therefore advise thee to let me go on,
Thou'lt find I'm the strength and support of thy
throne ;

For hadst thou but eyes, thou wouldst quickly perceive it,

How smoothly the dart
Slips into the heart

Of a woman that's wed;
Whilst the shivering maid

Stands trembling, and wishing, but dare not receive it.

Chorus.

For change, we're for change, to whatever it be,
We are neither contented with freedom nor thee.
Constancy's an empty sound,

Heaven, and earth, and all go round,
All the works of Nature move,
And the joys of life and love
Are in variety.

[End of the masque.

is something like a wedding. Now, if supper were Sir Tun. So; very fine, very fine, i'faith! this but ready I'd say a short grace; and if I had such a bedfellow as Hoyden to-night-I'd say as short

prayers.

For change, we're for change, to whatever it be,
We are neither contented with freedom nor thee.
Constancy's an empty sound,
Heaven, and earth, and all go round,
All the works of Nature move,
All the joys of life and love

Are in variety.

Fash. 'Tis with your bride.

Lord Fop. Thau art the impudentest fellow that Nature has yet spawned into the warld, strike me speechless!

Fash. Why, you know my modesty would have starved me; I sent it a-begging to you, and you would not give it a groat.

Lord Fop. And dost thau expect by an excess of assurance to extart a maintenance fram me?

Fash. [Taking Miss HOYDEN by the hand.] I do intend to extort your mistress from you, and that I hope will prove one.

Lord Fop. I ever thaught Newgate or Bedlam would be his fartune, and naw his fate's decided.— Prithee, Loveless, dost know of ever a mad-doctor hard by ?

Fash. There's one at your elbow will cure you presently. [To BULL.] Prithee, doctor, take him in hand quickly.

Lord Fop. Shall I beg the favour of you, sir, to pull your fingers out of my wife's hand?

Fash. His wife! Look you there; now I hope you are all satisfied he's mad.

Lord Fop. Naw, it is not passible far me to penetrate what species of fally it is thou art driving at !

Sir Tun. Here, here, here, let me beat out his brains, and that will decide all.

Lord Fop. No, pray, sir, hold, we'll destray him presently according to law.

Fash. [To BULL.] Nay, then advance, doctor : come, you are a man of conscience, answer boldly to the questions I shall ask. Did not you marry me to this young lady before ever that gentleman there saw her face?

Bull. Since the truth must out, I did.

Fash. Nurse, sweet nurse, were not you a witness to it?

Nurse. Since my conscience bids me speak-I

was.

Fash. [To Miss HOYDEN.] Madam, am not I your lawful husband?

Hoyd. Truly I can't tell, but you married me first.

Fash. Now I hope you are all satisfied?

Sir Tun. [Offering to strike him, is held by LOVELESS and WORTHY.] Oons and thunder, you lie !

Lord Fop. Pray, sir, be calm, the battle is in disarder, but requires more canduct than courage to rally our forces.-Pray, dactar, one word with you.-[Aside to BULL.] Look you, sir, though I will not presume to calculate your notions of damnation fram the description you give us of hell, yet since there is at least a passibility you may have a pitchfark thrust in your backside, methinks it should not be worth your while to risk your saul in the next warld for the sake of a beggarly yaunger brather, who is nat able to make your bady happy in this.

Bull. Alas! my lord, I have no worldly ends; I speak the truth, Heaven knows.

Lord Fop. Nay, prithee, never engage Heaven in the matter, for by all I can see 'tis like to prove a business for the devil.

Fash. Come, pray sir, all above-board, no corrupting of evidences. If you please, this young lady is my lawful wife, and I'll justify it in all the courts of England; so your lordship (who always had a passion for variety) may go seek a new mistress if you think fit.

Lord Fop. I am struck dumb with his impudence, and cannot passitively tell whether ever I shall speak again or nat.

Sir Tun. Then let me come and examine the business a little, I'll jerk the truth out of 'em presently. Here, give me my dog-whip.

Fash. Look you, old gentleman, 'tis in vain to make a noise; if you grow mutinous, I have some

friends within call have swords by their sides above four foot long; therefore be calm, hear the evidence patiently, and when the jury have given their verdict, pass sentence according to law. Here's honest Coupler shall be foreman, and ask as many questions as he pleases.

Coup. All I have to ask is, whether nurse persists in her evidence? The parson, I dare swear, will never flinch from his.

Nurse. [To Sir TUNBELLY, kneeling.] I hope in heaven your worship will pardon me: I have served you long and faithfully, but in this thing I was overreached; your worship, however, was deceived as well as I, and if the wedding-dinner had been ready, you had put madam to bed with him with your own hands.

Sir Tun. But how durst you do this, without acquainting of me?

Nurse. Alas! if your worship had seen how the poor thing begged, and prayed, and clung, and twined about me, like ivy to an old wall, you would say, I who had suckled it, and swaddled it, and nursed it both wet and dry, must have had a heart of adamant to refuse it.

Sir Tun. Very well!

Fash. Foreman, I expect your verdict.

Coup. Ladies and gentlemen, what's your opinions?

All. A clear case! a clear case!

Coup. Then, my young folks, I wish you joy. Sir Tun. [To TOM FASHION.] Come hither, stripling; if it be true then, that thou hast married my daughter, prithee tell me who thou art?

Fash. Sir, the best of my condition is, I am your son-in-law; and the worst of it is, I am brother to that noble peer there.

Sir Tun. Art thou brother to that noble peer!Why, then, that noble peer, and thee, and thy wife, and the nurse, and the priest-may all go and be damned together!

[Exit.

Lord Fop. [Aside.] Now, for my part, I think the wisest thing a man can do with an aching heart is to put on a serene countenance; for a philosophical air is the most becoming thing in the world to the face of a person of quality. I will therefore bear my disgrace like a great man, and let the people see I am above an affront.-[Aloud.] Dear Tam, since things are thus fallen aut, prithee give me leave to wish thee jay; I do it de bon cœur, strike me dumb! You have married a woman beautiful in her person, charming in her airs, prudent in her canduct, canstant in her inclinations, and of a nice marality, split my windpipe !

Fash. Your lardship may keep up your spirits with your grimace if you please, I shall support mine with this lady, and two thousand pound a-year. [Taking Miss HOYDEN's hand.] Come, madam :

We once again, you see, are man and wife,
And now, perhaps, the bargain's struck for life.
If I mistake, and we should part again,
At least you see you may have choice of men :
Nay, should the war at length such havoc make,
That lovers should grow scarce, yet for your sake,
Kind Heaven always will preserve a beau :

[Pointing to Lord FOPPINGTON. You'll find his lordship ready to come to. Lord Fop. Her ladyship shall stap my vitals if I do. [Exeunt omnes.

Gentlemen and Ladies,

THESE people have regaled you here to-day (In my opinion) with a saucy play ; In which the author does presume to show, That coxcomb, ab origine—was beau. Truly I think the thing of so much weight, That if some sharp chastisement ben't his fate, Gad's curse! it may in time destroy the state. I hold no one its friend, I must confess, Who would discauntenance you men of dress. (Far, give me leave to abserve, good clothes are things Have ever been of great support to kings; All treasons come from slovens, it is nat Within the reach of gentle beaux to plat; They have no gall, no spleen, no teeth, no stings, Of all Gad's creatures, the most harmless things. Through all recard, no prince was ever slain, By one who had a feather in his brain.

They're men of too refined an education,

To squabble with a court-for a vile dirty nation.
I'm very pasitive you never saw

A through republican a finish'd beau.
Nor, truly, shall you very often see

A Jacobite much better dress'd than he ;

In shart, through all the courts that I have been in,
Your men of mischief-still are in faul linen.
Did ever one yet dance the Tyburn jig,
With a free air, or a well-pawder'd wig?
Did ever highwaymen yet bid you stand,
With a sweet bawdy snuff bax in his hand?
Ar do you ever find they ask your purse
As men of breeding do?-Ladies, Gad's curse!
This author is a dag, and 'tis not fit
You should allow him even one grain of wit:
To which, that his pretence may ne'er be named,
My humble motion is-he may be damn'd.

SINCE 'tis the intent and business of the stage,
To copy out the follies of the age;
To hold to every man a faithful glass,
And show him of what species he's an ass:
I hope the next that teaches in the school,
Will show our author he's a scribbling fool.
And, that the satire may be sure to bite,
Kind Heaven inspire some venom'd priest to write!
And grant some ugly lady may indite!
For I would have him lash'd, by heavens I would!
Till his presumption swam away in blood.
Three plays at once proclaims a face of brass,
No matter what they are; that's not the case;
To write three plays, e'en that's to be an ass.
But what I least forgive, he knows it too,
For to his cost he lately has known you.

Experience shows, to many a writer's smart,
You hold a court where mercy ne'er had part;
So much of the old serpent's sting you have,
You love to damn, as Heaven delights to save.
In foreign parts, let a bold volunteer,
For public good, upon the stage appear,
He meets ten thousand smiles to dissipate his fear.
All tickle on the adventuring young beginner,
And only scourge the incorrigible sinner;
They touch indeed his faults, but with a hand
So gentle, that his merit still may stand :
Kindly they buoy the follies of his pen,
That he may shun 'em when he writes again.
But 'tis not so in this good-natured town;
All's one, an ox, a poet, or a crown;

Old England's play was always knocking down.

SCENE I.-A Room in Sir JOHN BRUTE's

House.

Enter Sir JOHN BRUTE.

Sir John. What cloying meat is love-when matrimony's the sauce to it! Two years' marriage has debauched my five senses. Everything I see, everything I hear, everything I feel, everything I smell, and everything I taste-methinks has wife in't. No boy was ever so weary of his tutor, no girl of her bib, no nun of doing penance, nor old

maid of being chaste, as I am of being married. Sure, there's a secret curse entailed upon the very name of wife. My lady is a young lady, a fine lady, a witty lady, a virtuous lady-and yet I hate her. There is but one thing I loathe on earth beyond her that's fighting. Would my courage come up but to a fourth part of my ill-nature, I'd stand buff to her relations, and thrust her out of doors. marriage has sunk me down to such an ebb of resolution, I dare not draw my sword, though even to get rid of my wife. But here she comes.

But

Enter Lady BRUTE.

Lady Brute. Do you dine at home to-day, sir John?

Sir John. Why, do you expect I should tell you what I don't know myself?

Lady Brute. I thought there was no harm in asking you.

Sir John. If thinking wrong were an excuse for impertinence, women might be justified in most things they say or do.

Lady Brute. I'm sorry I've said anything to displease you.

Sir John. Sorrow for things past is of as little importance to me, as my dining at home or abroad ought to be to you.

Lady Brute. My inquiry was only that I might have provided what you liked.

Sir John. Six to four you had been in the wrong there again; for what I liked yesterday I don't like to-day, and what I like to-day, 'tis odds I mayn't like to-morrow.

Lady Brute. But if I had asked you what you liked?

Sir John. Why, then, there would be more asking about it than the thing is worth.

Lady Brute. I wish I did but know how I might please you.

Sir John. Ay, but that sort of knowledge is not a wife's talent.

Lady Brute. Whate'er my talent is, I'm sure my will has ever been to make you easy.

Sir John. If women were to have their wills the world would be finely governed.

Lady Brute. What reason have I given you to use me as you do of late? It once was otherwise. You married me for love.

Sir John. And you me for money. So, you have your reward, and I have mine.

Lady Brute. What is it that disturbs you?
Sir John. A parson.

Lady Brute. Why, what has he done to you?
Sir John. He has married me.

[Exit.

Lady Brute. The devil's in the fellow, I think! -I was told before I married him that thus 'twould be: but I thought I had charms enough to govern him; and that where there was an estate, a woman must needs be happy; so, my vanity has deceived me, and my ambition has made me uneasy. But there's some comfort still; if one would be revenged of him, these are good times; a woman may have a gallant, and a separate maintenance too.-The surly puppy!-Yet, he's a fool for't; for hitherto he has been no monster: but who knows how far he may provoke me? I never loved him, yet I have been ever true to him; and that in spite of all the attacks of art and nature upon a poor weak woman's heart, in favour of a tempting lover. Methinks so noble a defence as I have made should be rewarded with a better usage.-Or who can tell -perhaps a good part of what I suffer from my husband, may be a judgment upon me for my cruelty to my lover.-Lord, with what pleasure could I indulge that thought, were there but a possibility of finding arguments to make it good!-And how do I know but there may ?-Let me see.-What opposes?-My matrimonial vow.-Why, what did I vow? I think I promised to be true to my husband. Well; and he promised to be kind to me. But he han't kept his word.-Why, then, I am

absolved from mine.-Ay, that seems clear to me. The argument's good between the king and the people, why not between the husband and the wife? Oh, but that condition was not expressed.— No matter, 'twas understood. Well, by all I see, if I argue the matter a little longer with myself, I' shan't find so many bugbears in the way as I thought I should. Lord, what fine notions of virtue do we women take up upon the credit of old foolish philosophers! Virtue's its own reward, virtue's this, virtue's that-virtue's an ass, and a gallant's worth forty on't.

Enter BELINDA.

Lady Brute. Good morrow, dear cousin! Bel. Good-morrow, madam; you look pleased this morning.

Lady Brute. I am so.

Bel. With what, pray?

Lady Brute. With my husband.

Bel. Drown husbands! for yours is a provoking fellow. As he went out just now, I prayed him to tell me what time of day 'twas; and he asked me if I took him for the church-clock, that was obliged to tell all the parish.

Lady Brute. He has been saying some good obliging things to me too. In short, Belinda, he has used me so barbarously of late, that I could almost resolve to play the downright wife-and cuckold him.

Bel. That would be downright, indeed.

Lady Brute. Why, after all, there's more to be said for't than you'd imagine, child. I know, according to the strict statute law of religion, I should do wrong; but, if there were a Court of Chancery in heaven, I'm sure I should cast him.

Bel. If there were a House of Lords you might. Lady Brute. In either I should infallibly carry my cause. Why, he's the first aggressor, not I. Bel. Ay, but you know, we must return good for evil.

Lady Brute. That may be a mistake in the translation.-Prithee, be of my opinion, Belinda; for I'm positive I'm in the right; and if you'll keep up the prerogative of a woman, you'll likewise be positive you are in the right, whenever you do anything you have a mind to. But I shall play the fool and jest on, till I make you begin to think I'm in earnest.

Bel. I shan't take the liberty, madam, to think of anything that you desire to keep a secret from

me.

Lady Brute. Alas, my dear! I have no secrets. My heart could never yet confine my tongue.

Bel. Your eyes, you mean; for I'm sure I have seen them gadding, when your tongue has been locked up safe enough.

Lady Brute. My eyes gadding! prithee after who, child?

Bel. Why, after one that thinks you hate him as much as I know you love him.

Lady Brute. Constant, you mean?
Bel. I do so.

Lady Brute. Lord, what should put such a thing into your head?

Bel. That which puts things into most people's heads-observation.

Lady Brute. Why what have you observed, in the name of wonder?

Bel. I have observed you blush when you meet

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