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Ld. Froth. Couplets.

Sir Paul. Oh, here they come.

Enter Lady Froth and Brifk.

Brisk. My lord, your humble servant; Sir Paul yours

-the finest night!

L. Froth. My dear, Mr. Brisk and I have been stargazing, I don't know how long.

Sir Paul. Does it not tire your ladyship? are not you weary with looking up?

L. Froth. Oh, no, I love it violently, - My dear, you're melancholy.

Ld. Froth. No, my dear; I'm but just awake.
L. Froth. Snuff some of my spirit of hartshorn.

Ld. Froth. I've fome of my own, thank you, my

dear.

L. Froth. Well, I fwear, Mr. Brisk, you understood astronomy like an old Egyptian.

Brisk. Not comparably to your ladyship; you are the very Cynthia of the skies, and queen of stars.

L. Froth. That's because I have no light, but what's by reflection from you, who are the fun.

Brisk. Madam, you have eclips'd me quite, let me perish,-I can't answer that.

L. Froth. No matter, Hark'ee, shall you and I make an almanack together.

Brisk. With all my foul.-Your ladyship has made me the man in't already, I'm so full of the wounds which you have given..

L. Froth. O finely taken ! I swear now you are even with me, O Parnassus, you have an infinite deal of wit. Sir Paul. So he has, gads-bud, and so has your ladyhip.

Enter Lady Plyant, Careless and Cynthia. L. P. You tell me most surprizing things; bless me, who would ever trust a man? O my heart akes for fear they should be all deceitful alike.

Care. You need not fear, madam, you have charms to fix inconstancy itself.

L. P. O dear, you make me blush. Ld. Froth. Come, my dear, shall we take leave of my lord and lady?

D2

Cynt. Cynt. They'll wait upon your lordship presently. L. Froth. Mr. Brisk, my coach shall fet you down. All. What's the matter?

[A great foriek from the corner of the stage. Lady Touchwood runs out affrighted, my Lord after

ber, like a Parfon.

L. T. O I'm betray'd. --Save me, help me.
Ld. T. Now what evafion, wretch!

L. T. Stand off, let me go.

[Exit.

Ld. T. Go, and thy own infamy pursue thee. You ftare as you were all amazed, -I don't wonder at it but too foon you'll know mine, and that woman's thame.

Enter Mellefont disguised in a Parson's Habit and
pulling in Mafkwell..

Mel. Nay, by Heav'n you thall be seen. - Careless, your hand;-Do you hold down your head? Yes I am your chaplain, look in the face of your injur'd friend; thou wonder of all falfhood.

Ld. T. Are you filent, monster?

Mel. Good Heav'ns! How I believ'd and lov'd this man!Take him hence, for he's a disease to my fight. Ld. T. Secure that manifold villain.

Care. Miracle of ingratitude?

[Servants feize him.

"Sir Paul. O Providence! Providence! what difcove"ries are bere."

Brisk. This is all very furprizing, let me perish.

L. Froth. You know I told you Saturn look'd a little more angry than usual.

Ld. T. We'll think of punishment at leisure, but let me haften to do justice, in rewarding virtue and wrong'd innocence.-Nephew, I hope I have your pardon, and Cynthia's.

Mel. We are your lordship's creatures. Ld. T. And be each others comfort; -Let me join your hands. Uninterrupted blifs attend you both; mutual love, lafting health, and circling joys, tread round each happy year of your long lives.

Let

Let fecret villainy from hence be warn'd;
Howe'er in private mischiefs are conceiv'd,
Torture and shame attend their open birth;
Like vipers in the breast, base treachery lies,
Still gnawing that, whence first it did arife;
No fooner born, but the vile parent dies.

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EPILOGUE.

COU'D poets but foresee how plays would take,
Then they cou'd tell what epilogues to make;
Whether to thank or blame their audience most :
But that late knowledge does much hazard cost,
'Till dice are thrown, there's nothing won, nor loft.
So 'till the thief has stol'n, he cannot know
Whether he shall escape the law, or no.
But poets run much greater hazards far,
Than they who stand their trials at the bar &
The law provides a curb for its own fury,

And fuffers judges to direct the jury.
But in this court, what diffrence does appear!
For every one's both judge and jury here;

Nay, and what's worse, an executioner.
All have a right and title to some part,
Each choosing that in which he has most art.
The dreadful men of learning all confound,
Unless the fable's good, and moral found.
The vizor-masks, that are in pit and gallery,
Approve, or damn the repartee and rallery.
The lady criticks, who are better read,
Inquire if characters are nicely bred;

If the soft things are penn'd and spoke with grace :
They judge of action too, and time, and place;
In which we do not doubt but they're difcerning,
For that's a kind of affignation learning.
Beaux judge of dress; the witlings judge of songs;
The cuckoldam, of ancient right, to cits belongs.

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Thus

Thus poor poets, the favour are deny'd,

Even to make exceptions, when they're try'd. 'Tis bard that they must ev'ry one admit :Methinks I fee fome faces in the pit,

Which must of consequence be foes to wit.
You who can judge, to sentence may proceed;
But tho' be cannot write, let him be freed
At least from their contempt, who cannot read.

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FINIS.

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