Love. [To Phil.] Pray have a little Patience, Madam, and you'll fee the Event.

Vifc. Lady; I blefs thofe Stars that have directed me to fo happy a Choice; therefore few Words are beft. If you like me as well as I do like you, e'en fend for a Parfon To Phil.

Lady. Hold, Sir, fure you miftake!

Love. Now

Now it works. [Afide to Phil.

Vifc. What fay you, Lady? Shall we[To Phil, Lady. I can hold no longer,

[Afide.

Pray, Sir, are not you the Vifcount Sans Terre?. Vifc. Pretty Creature, I am.

Lady. And come with an Intention

Vife. To make this Lady, your Aunt, happy in a Husband, if the pleases.

Lady. I tell you, Sir, I am that Lady you speak of; and that is, my Niece Philadelphia.

Vifc. Ha, ha, ha, Your Niece, quotha!

Why fure you think to put fome Trick upon me.
This motherly grave Lady your Niece!

No, No, I thank you, Madam, I am not to be perfwaded out of my Reafon.

Lady. He makes me almost mad.

(Afide.

I fay again, that I am call'd the Lady Laycock;
And that pert Minx my Niece; who was left in
Charge with me till the be of Age.

Vifc. 'Sdheart, 'tis impoffible! You look Twenty Years younger than that Lady you call your Niece. Lady. Oh, dear Sir! That indeed may well be: A great many do allow, I appear to be fomething younger than I altogether am.

Vifc. How could I be fo much mistaken!

Sure, Madam, you but jeft with me.

Lady. Indeed, Sir, these Gentlemen know I speak Truth.

Cun. 'Tis very true indeed, my Lord.

Vifc. Well, fince it happens fo, I like it the better for to fay Truth, I had fix'd my Eye on you at my firft Entrance.

Ah! wou'd 'twere over once.

Methinks I long to have thee in my Arms,

Oh! How I would employ my Faculties,
And furfeit with delight.

What fay you, Lady? Never ftand to confider on't, but fend for a Parfon to fay Grace, that I may fall to. Odds fo, I'm very hungry- Very fharp fet;

I long to be doing.

Lady. Pray, my Lord, walk in, and refresh your felf after your Journey. I was unmannerly not to ask you before.

Prudence, Come hither. See that all things are in readiness. Oh, Prudence! I am impatient to be alone with him.

Exit Pru. My Lord, you will excufe the Disorder you have found me in.

Vifc. Never trouble your felf about it. Join but your Forces with mine, and we'll beget, a Race of People, that shall be immortal. A Race, that fhall create a second War with Jove, and raise Olympus top equal with the Seat of him, that hurls the Thunder.

Lady. No more, my Lord. Pray walk in.
Vifc. All your Commands are abfolute.

[Exit Viscount leading the Widow, who pushes out

Phil.

Love. Was there ever fuch a Piece of Fly-Flesh? Cun. The Rogue acted it to the Life, and came very feasonably to my Rescue.

Had he ftaid a Moment longer, I had been forc'd to have given up the Ghoft.

Love. That ever Nature fhould fuffer fuch a Lump of Rubbish in the World for Men to ftumble over.

Čun.

Cun. Pox on her old mouldy Chops: She's for engroffing all to her felf.

How the thruft her Niece in before her!

I'll in, and try to beckon her into the Garden, if you'll interpofe, fhou'd the Aunt mifs her, and follow us.

Love. 'Sdeath! Would't have me run into the Lion's Den, juft when I have fcap'd his Paw!

No, I have hazarded too much already to venture
more, I thank you. I now have better Game in
Chace.

You know pretty Mrs. Brittle, Sir Peter Pride's
Daughter?

Cun. What of her?

Love. Oh, 'tis the fweeteft little Creature! So Fair, fo Witty, fo Kind, and fo Promifing! I'm juft now fending this Letter, in order to appoint a Meeting with her. But her Husband is fo jealous (as indeed I hope to give him Caufe for't) his Eye is hardly ever off her. I am thinking what way it can be deliver'd without Sufpicion. Let me fee

(Studies, Cun. I'll take my Leave; for I find I interrupt your Meditations.

Love. Farewel, my Friend; and may both our Wishes profper. (Exit Cuningham.

Jeffrey.

Feff. Sir.

Enter Jeffrey.

Love. Can't thou contrive to carry this Letter to a young Gentlewoman, and bring an Answer, without heing fufpected? If thou doft, Jeffrey, thou shalt be well rewarded for thy Pains.

Jeff. Is the Widow, Wife, or Maid, pray Sir?
Love. Why doft thou ask?

Jeff. For a private Reason I have.

Love. Well then, to fatisfy thy Curiofity, Jeffrey, know the's a Wife; a Young, a 'Handfome, and a Melting one!

I am all Ecftafy, and impatient till I poffefs her. Good Jeffrey, look on the Superfcription, and about it with all Speed.

Jeff. I dare not touch it:

Don't truft me with it.

Love. Why fo, good Jeffrey?

Jeff. I fay again, do not truft me.
Love. Your Reafon, Jeffrey?

Feff. I don't care to meddle in a Caufe, where there's a Process of Cuckoldom going forward. Love. Prithee, why fo?

Jeff Why, Sir, I'll tell you. You must know, Sir, I love Prudence, my Lady Laycock's Woman, and I believe there's no Love loft between us; nor do I know how foon we may exchange our Perfons for better and for worfe. Now, Sir, if I fhould be the Inftrument (by carrying this Letter) of your making this honeft Mana Cuckold, who knows but, in return of fuch a monftrous Deed, it may be my own Cafe next; therefore, Sir, I don't care to meddle in't.

Love. Give me the Letter again; I did but try thee. Thy Mafter, indeed, has often told me, how fcrupulous thou wert about these Matters, but I ne'er believ'd it till now. Stick to thy Principles, and be what thou deferv'ft, thou mayft come to Good at laft. I have no farther Service at prefent. Prithee leave me, I have Bufinefs of Moment. (Exit Jeffrey.

I had been finely ferv'd if I had fent this confcientious Rogue. What shall I do? The Viscount brought an ignorant Country Fellow up with him, that won't be fufpected in the leaft. 'Tis well thought of, I'll entryft him, and fend it immediately. SoftWho comes here? Oh! 'tis the Husband.

Enter

Enter Barnaby Brittle.

Your Servant, Mr. Brittle; is the Lady Laycock at home, can you tell?

Brit. Yes, yes, I believe she is.

Love. I have a little Business, and must needs speak with her. Sir, your Servant.

Britt. A little Bufinefs, quotha!

A fine Trade this doating old Widow drives; my Houfe is become as common for all Commers and Goers, as the Mall or Spring-Garden: But I fhall put a ftop to it in a little time, I believe.

Enter Mrs. Britele in bafte, drefs'd very airy; he ftops ber.

Britt. How now Whither away in fuch hafte ? Mrs. Britt. I'm going abroad, Husband. Good bye.

Britt. Hold, hold, by your Leave, I'll know for what, and whither your fweet Ladyship is going? Mrs. Britt. Why, to the Play, fweet Husband. Brit. Hum! to the Play.

I

Mrs. Britt. Well, Good bye, Husband--fhall be too late, and then there'll be fuch crowding, I shan't get the firft Row in the Box, for 'tis a new Play; and I had as lief not go, as fit behind.

(Is going.
Britt. Hold, hold, pray ftay, if you please.
Mrs. Britt. Indeed but I can't.

Britt. Indeed but you must not go, Wife.
Mrs. Britt. Indeed, Husband, but I fhall.
Britt. I fay again, you must not.

Mrs. Britt. Muft not! Who fhall hinder me?

Britt. Why, that will I.

Mrs. Britt. I fay, No.