tolerable perfonal Eftate; and it is a great Grief to me, indeed it is, Mr. Careless, that I have not a Son to inherit this 'Tis true, I have a Daughter and a fine dutiful Child fhe is, though I fay it, bleffed be Providence I may fay; for indeed, Mr. Careless, I am mightily beholden to Providence --A poor unworthy Sinner. But if I had a Ṣon, ah, that's my Affliction, and my only Affliction; indeed I cannot refrain Tears when it comes in my Mind. [Cries. Care. Why, methinks that might be easily remedied my Lady's a fine likely Woman Sir Paul. Oh, a fine likely Woman as you fhall fee in a Summers Day Indeed fhe is, Mr. Carelefs, in all Refpects.

Care. And I fhould not have taken you to have been fo old

Sir Paul. Alas, that's not it, Mr. Careless; ah! that's not it; no, no, you fhoot wide of the Mark a Mile; indeed you do, that's not it, Mr. Careless; no, no, that's not it.

Care. No, what can be the Matter then?

Sir Paul. You'll fcarcely believe me, when Ishall tell you my Lady is fo Nice-It's very strange, but it's true: Too true - fhe's fo very Nice, that I don't believe fhe would touch a Man for the World- At leaft not above once a Year. I'm fure I have found it so; and alas, what's once a Year to an old Man, who would do good in his Generation? Indeed it's true, Mr. Careless, it breaks my Heart I am her Husband, as I may fay; though far unworthy of that Honour, yet I am her Hus. band; but alas-a-day, I have no more Familiarity with her Perfon as to that Matter than with

my own Mother - no indeed.

Care. Alas-a-day, this is a lamentable Story; my Lady must be told on't; she must i'faith, Sir Paul ; 'tis an Injury to the world.

Sir

Sir Paul. Ah! would to Heav'n you would, Mr. Careless; you are mightily in her Favour.

Care. I warrant you; what we must have a Son fome way or other.

Sir Paul. Indeed, Ifhould be mightily bound to you, if you could bring it about, Mr. Careless.

L. P. Here, Sir Paul, it's from your Steward; here's a Return of 600 Pounds; you may take fifty of it for the next half Year. [Gives him the Letter.

1

SCENE

IX.

[To them] Lord FROTH, CYNTHIA.

Sir PAUL.

OW does my Girl? come hither to thy Fat. her, , poor Lamb, thou'rt melancholick. Ld. Froth. Heav'n, Sir Paul, you amaze me, of all things in the World You are never pleas'd but when we are all upon the broad Grin; all Laugh and no Company; ah, then 'tis fuch a Sight to fee fome TeethSure you're a great Admirer of my Lady Whifler, Mr. Sneer and Sir Laurence Loud, and that Gang,

Sir Paul. I vow and fwear fhe's a very merry Wo. man, but, I think the laughs a little too much. Ld. Froth. Merry! O Lord, what a Character that is of a Woman of Quality You have been at my Lady Whiflers upon her Day, Madam? Cynt. Yes my Lord-I must humour this Fool.

[Afide. Ld. Froth. Well and how? hee! What is your

Senfe

Senfe of the Conversation?

Cynt. O moft ridiculous, a perpetual Confort of laughing without any Harmony; for fure, my Lord, to laugh out of Time, is as difagreeable as to fing out of Time, or out of Tune.

Ld. Froth. Hee, hee, hee, right; and then, my Lady Whifter is fo ready fhe always comes in three Bars too foon And then, what do they laugh at? For you know laughing without a Jeft is as impertinent; hee! as, as

Cynt. As dancing without a Fiddle.

Ld. Froth. Juftifaith, that was at my Tongues end.

Cynt. But that cannot be properly faid of them, for I think they are all in good Nature with the World, and only laugh at one another; and you muft allow they have all Jefts in their Perfons though they have none in their Conversation.

Ld. Froth. True, as I'm a Perfon of Honour For Heav'ns fake let us facrifice 'em to Mirth a lit tle.

[Enter Boy and whispers Sir Paul. Sir. Paul. Gads to Wife, Wife, my Lady Plyant, I have a Word.

L. P. I'm bufic, Sir Paul, I wonder at your Impertinence

Care. Sir Paul, harkee, I'm reafoning the Matter you know; Madam,if your Ladyihip please, we'll difcourfe of this in the next Room.

Sir Paul. O ho, I wish you good Succefs, I I wish you good Succefs. Boy, tell my Lady, when fhe has done, I would fpeak with her below.

SCE

CYNTHIA, Lord F ROTH, Lady F ROT H,

HEN

THE

BRISK.

Lady FROT H.

you think that Epifade between Sufan, the Dairy-Maid, and our Coach-Man is not amiss; you know, I may suppose the Dairy in Town, as well as in the Country.

Brisk. Incomparable, let me perifh-But then being an Heroick Poem, had not you better call him a Charioteer? Charioteer founds great; befides your Ladyfhips Coachman having a red Face, and you comparing him to the Sun

the Sun is call'd Heav'ns Charioteer.

And you know

L. Freth. Oh, infinitely better; I'm extreamly beholden to you for the Hint; ftay, we'll read over those half a Score Lines again. [Pulls out a Paper.] Let me fee here, you know what goes before --the Comparifon, you know. [ Reads

For as the Sun fbines ev'ry Day,

So of our Coachman I may say.

Brisk. I'm afraid that Simile won't do in wet Weather Because you say the Sun fhines ev'ry Day.

L. Froth. No, for the Sun it won't, but it will do for the Coach-man, for you know there's moft Occafion for a Coach in wet Weather.

Brisk. Right, right, that faves all.

L. Froth. Then I don't fay the Sun fhines all the

Day,

Day, but that he peeps now and then; yet he does fhine all the Day too, you know, tho' we don't fee him.

Brisk. Right, but the Vulgar will never comprehend that.

L. Froth. Well, you shall hear

Let me fee:

[Reads] For as the Sun fhines ev'ry Day,
So, of our Coach-màn I may lay,
He fhows his drunken fiery Face,
Just as the Sun does, more or lefs.

Brisk. That's right, all's well, all's well. More or lefs.

[L. Froth reads] And when at Night his Labour's done >

Then too, like Heav'ns Charioteer the Sun:

Ay, Charioteer does better.

Into the Dairy he defcend's

And there his Whipping and his Driving

ends:

There he's fecure from Danger of a Bilk,
His Fare is paid him, and he fets in Milk.

For Sufan, you know, is Thetis, and soBrisk. Incomparable well and proper, IgadBut I have one Exception to make Don't you think Bilk (I know it's good Rhime) but don't you think Bilk and Fare too like a Hackney Coachman ? L. Froth. Ifwear and vow I'm afraid fo- And yet our fehu was a Hackney Coach-man, when my Lord took him.

Brisk. Was he? I'm an(wer'd if Zebu was a Hackney Coach-man You may put that in the marginal Notes tho', to prevent Criticism Only mark it with a small Afterifm, and fay,-tehu was formerly a Hackney Coach-man.

ད

L.