Ld. Froth. Couplets.

Sir Paul. Oh, here they come.

Enter Lady Froth and Brisk.

Brisk. My lord, your humble fervant; 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 ladyfhip? 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 juft awake.

L. Froth. Snuff fome of my fpirit of hartfhorn. Ld. Froth. I've fome of my own, thank you, my dear.

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

Brisk. Not comparably to your ladyfhip; you are the very Cynthia of the fkies, 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 ma perifh, I can't anfwer that.

L. Froth. No matter,- -Hark'ce, shall you and E make an almanack together.

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

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

Enter Lady Plyant, Carelefs and Cynthia.

L. P. You tell me moft furprizing things; blefs me, who would ever truft 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 inconftancy itself.

L. P. O dear, you make me blush.

Ld. Froth. Come, my dear, fhall we take leave of my lord and lady?

D 2

Cynt.

Cynt. They'll wait upon your lordship prefently.
L. Frath. Mr. Brisk, my coach fhall let you down.
All. What's the matter?

[A great fhriek from the corner of the ftage. Lady Touchwood runs out affrighted, my Lord after ber, like a Parson.

1.. 7. O I'm betray'd.-Save me, help me.
Ld. 7. Now what evafion, wretch!
1. 7. Stand off, let me go.

[Exit.

Ld. 7. Go, and thy own infamy pursue thee.--You fare as you were all amazed,—I don't wonder at it,but too foon you'll know mine, and that woman's fhame.

Enter Mellefont difquifed in a Parfon's Habit and

pulling in Mafkwell.

Mel. Nay, by Heav'n you fhall be feen.-Careless, your hand;-Do you hold down your head? Yes I am your chaplain, look in the face of your injur'd friend; theu 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 here."

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. 7. We'll think of punishment at leifure, but let me haften to do juftice, 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 firft it did arife;
No fooner born, but the vile parent dies.

EPILOGU E.

Co U'D poets but foresee how plays would take,
Then they cou'd tell what epilogues to make;

Whether to thank or blame their audience moft:
But that late knowledge does much hazard cost,
'Till dice are thrown, there's nothing won, nor loft.
So 'till the thief has ftol'n, he cannot know
Whether he shall escape the law, or no.
But poets run much greater hazards far,
Than they who ftand 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 diff'rence does appear!
For every one's both judge and jury bere;
Nay, and what's worse, an executioner.
All have a right and title to fome part,
Each choofing that in which he has moft 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 foft 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 drefs; the witlings judge of fongs;
The cuckoldom, of ancient right, to cits belongs.

}

}

Thus

Thus poor poets, the favour are deny'd,
Even to make exceptions, when they're try'd.
'Tis hard that they must ev'ry one admit :
Methinks I fee fome faces in the pit,
Which must of confequence be foes to wit.
You who can judge, to fentence may proceed;
But tho' he cannot write, let him be freed:
At least from their contempt, who cannot read.

PINI S.