plac'd; there was Revenge in view; that Womans Idol had defil'd the Temple of the God, and Love was made a Mock Worship. A Son and Heir would have edg'd young Mellefont upon the Brink of Ruin, and left him none but you to catch at for Prevention.

L. Touch. Again, provoke me! Do you wind me up like a Larum, only to roufe my own ftill'd Soul for your Diverfion? Confufion!

you re

Mask. Nay, Madam I'm gone, if lapfe, What needs this? Ifay nothing but what you your felf, in open Hours of Love, have told me. Why should you deny it? Nay, how can you? Is not all this prefent Heat owing to the fame Fire? Do you not love him ftill? How have I this Day offended you, but in not breaking off his Match with Cynthia? Which e'r to Morrow shall be done, had you but Patience.

L Touch How, what faid you Maskwell, Another Caprice to unwind my Temper?

Mask. By Heav'n, no; I am your Slave, the Slave of all your Pleafures; and will not reft 'till I have given you Peace, would you fiffer me. L. Touch O, Maskwell, in vain I do disguise me from thee; thou know'ft me, knoweft the very inmoft Windings and Receffes of my Soul.

Oh

Mellefont! I burn; married to Morrow! Despair ftrikes me. Yet my Soul knows I hate him too: Let him but once be mine, and next immediate Ruin feize him.

Mask. Compofe your felf, you shall possess and ruin him too, Will that please you?

L. Touch. How, how Thou dear, thou precious Villain, how?

Mask. You have already been tampering with my Lady Plyant.

L. Touch. I have: She is ready for any Impreffion I think fit.

Mask.

Mask. She must be throughly perfuaded, that Mellefont loves her.

L. Touch. She is fo credulous that way naturally, and likes him fo well, that fhe will believe it fafter than I can perfuade her. But I don't fee what you can propofe from fuch a trifling Defign; for her first converfing with Mellefont, will convince her of the contrary.

Mask. I know it. I don't depend upon it. But it will prepare fomething else; and gain us Leisure to lay a ftronger Plot; if I gain a little Time, I shall not

want Contrivance.

One Minute, gives Invention to destroy,
What, to rebuild, will a whole Age employ.

End of the First A&:

I

A C T I I.

SCENE I.

Lady Froth and Cynthia.

CYN T H I A.

NDEED, Madam! Is it poffible your Ladyhip could have been so much in Love?

L. Froth. Icould not fleep; I did not fleep one Wink for three Weeks together.

Cynt. Prodigious! I wonder, want of Sleep, and fo much Love, and fo much Wit as your Lady

fhip

fhip 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 But then I had a Way. For between you and I, I had Whimfies and Vapours, but I gave them

too. --

Vent.

Cynt. How pray, Madam?

L. Froth. OI writ, writ abundantly, Do you never write?

Cynt. Write,

what?

L. Froth. 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, Oblefs 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.

Frotb. O my Confcience no more we should ; thou fay'ft 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 he wants nothing, but a blue Ribbon and a Star, to make him Thine, the very Phofphorus of our Hemifphere. Do you understand those two hard Words? If you don't, I'll explain 'em to 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 efcap'd the Etymology. But I'm the more amaz'd, to find you a Woman of Letters, and not

write

Write! Blefs me! how can Mellefont believe you him love?

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 bel air or Brillant of Mr. Brisk; the Solemnity, yet Complaifance of my Lord, or fomething of his own that fhould look a little fe-nefçay quoifh; he is too much a Mediocrity, in my Mind.

Cynt. He does not indeed affect either Pertnefs or Formality; for which I like him: Here he

comes.

L. Froth. And my Lord with him: Pray obferve the Difference.

粥粥粥粥粥粥粥粥粥粥 SCENE II.

[To them] Lord FROTH, MELLE

FONT, and BRISK.

CYNTHI A.

Mpertinent Creature! I could almost be angry with her now.

[Afide L. Froth. My Lord, I have been telling Cynthia, how much I have been in love with you; Ifwear 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!

Squee

[Squeezes him by the Hand, looks kindly on him; fighs and then laughs out.

ah!

Ld. Froth. Pleafant Creature! perfectly well, that Look, ay, there it is; who could refift! 'twas fo my Heart was made a Captive firft, 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 shan't kiss it fo much; I fhall grow jealous, I vow now.

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

L. Froth. Ah! Gallantry 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 Ladyship, let me perish.

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, Madam.

Brisk. O dear, Madam

L. Froth. An infinite deal!

Brisk. O Heav'ns, Madam

L. Froth. More Wit than any Body..

Brisk. I'm everlastingly 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 happieft Couple in the World, for you're not only happy in one another, and when you are toge

ther