THE LOST LOVER; OR, THE jealous Husband.   

THE LOST LOVER; OR, THE jealous Husband: A COMEDY.  
As it is Acted at the THEATRE ROYAL BY His MAJESTY's Servants.  
Written by Mrs. Manley.  
LONDON, Printed for R. Bently, in Covent-Garden; F. Saunders, in the New-Exchange; J. Knapton, and R. Wellington, in St. Paul's Churchyard. MDCXCVI.   

THE PREFACE.  
THis Comedy by the little success it met with in the Acting, has not at all deceived my Expectations; I had ever so great a Distrust, and so impartial an Opinion, that nothing but the flattery of my Friends (and them, one would imagine, Men of too much Sense to be so grossly mistaken, and without whose persuasion I never designed publishing of it) could in the least have held me in suspense of its good or evil Fortune: and to confess my Faults, I own it an unpardonable one, to expose, after two years' reflection, the Follies of seven days, (for barely in that time this Play was wrought) and myself so great a Stranger to the Stage, that I had lived buried in the Country, and in the six foregoing years, had actually been but twice at the House. The better half was cut; They say, 'thas suffered by it, tho' they told me, 'twas possible to have too much of a good thing, but I think never too little of an ill.  
That knowledge I had of the Town was the gentile part, which does not always afford Diverting Characters; My design in Writing was only to pass some tedious Country hours, not imagining I should be so severely repaid. I now know my Faults, and will promise to mend them by the surest way, not attempting to repeat them.  
I am now convinced Writing for the Stage is no way proper for a Woman, to whom all Advantages but mere Nature, are refused; If we happen to have a Genius to Poetry, it presently shoots to a fond desire of Imitation. Tho' to be lamely ridiculous, mine was indulged by my Flatterers, who said, nothing could come from me unentertaining: like a Hero not contented with Applause from lesser Conquests, I find myself not only disappointed of my hopes of greater, but even to have lost all the glory of the former; Had I confined my Sense, as before, to some short Song of Phillis, a Tender Billet, and the freedom of agreeable Conversation, I had still preserved the Character of a Witty Woman.  
Give me leave to thank the Well-natured Town for Damning me so suddenly; They would not suffer me to linger in suspense, nor allow me any degrees of Mortification; neither my Sex, Dress, Music and Dancing, could allow it a three Days Reprieve, nor the Modesty of the Play itself, prevail with the Ladies to Espouse it: Here I should most justly reproach myself, if I did not make all due Acknowledgements for Sir Thomas Skipwith's Civility, his Native Generosity, and Gallantry of Temper, took care nothing on his part should be wanting to make it pleasing.  
Once more, my Offended Judges, I am to appear before you, once more in possibility of giving you the like Damning Satisfaction; there is a Tragedy of mine Rehearsing, which 'tis too late to recall, I consent it meet with the same Fortune: 'Twill for ever rid me of a Vanity too Natural to our Sex, and make me say with a Grecian Hero, I had been lost, if I had not been lost.  
They Object the Verses wrote by me before Agnes de Castro, where, with Poetic Vanity I seemed to think myself a Champion for our Sex; some of my Witty Critics make a Jest of my proving so favourable an Enemy, but let me tell them, this was not designed a Consequence of that Challenge, being writ two years before, and cannot have a smaller Share in their Esteem than mine: After all, I think my Treatment much severer than I deserved; I am satisfied the bare Name of being a Woman's Play damned it beyond its own want of Merit: I will conclude with Dionysius, That Plato and Philosophy have taught me to bear so great a Loss (even of Fame) with Patience.   

PROLOGUE,  Spoken by Mr. Horden. 

THe first Adventurer for her fame I stand,  
The Curtain's drawn now by a Lady's Hand,  
The very Name you'll cry bodes Impotence,  
To Fringe and Tea they should confine their Sense,  
And not outstrip the bounds of Providence.  
I hope then Critics, since the Case is so,  
You'll scorn to Arm against a Worthless Foe,  
But kerb your spleen and gall, and trial make,  
How our fair Warrior gives her first Attack.   

Now all ye chattering Infects strait be dumb,  
The Men of Wit and Sense are hither come,  
Ask not this Mask to Sup, nor that to show  
Some Face more ugly than a Fifty Beau,  
Who, if our Play succeeds, will surely say,  
Some private Lover helped her on her way,  
As Female Wit were barren like the Moon,  
That borrows all her influence from the Sun.   

The Sparks and Beaus will surely prove our Friends,  
For their good Breeding must make them commend  
What Billet Deux so  a Lady sends.  
She knew old Threadbare Topics would not do,  
But Beaus a Species thinks itself still new,  
And therefore she resolved to Copy you.    

epilog,  Spoken by Miss Cross. 

KInd hearted City Wives, if any here,  
Was not Oliva's Virtue too severe,  
To balk your Expectation at that time,  
Kind tender Citts would be a Mortal Crime;  
Our Gallants were undone, should you but prove  
Her Apes in Virue, as you're theirs in Love.   

But for our Poetess— Lard, no Virgin ever  
Resigned so bashfully her darling Treasure,  
She sweats and reddens, then turns pale for fear,  
See what disorders you can give the Fair;  
Should I ask ne'er so much to make you kind,  
You'd damn or pity as ye are inclined,  
Tho' each in private would be sworn her Lover,  
Scarce one true Friend the Public will discover.   

Our Beau was writ at least two years ago,  
See how rank Weeds in Foppish countries' grow,  
Now so Diminutive a Spark, alas,  
He scarce can serve to show you what he was;  
Should the next two increase as these have done,  
The Babel Beau might hope to touch the Sun.   

Did but sound Sense and Reason thrive as fast,  
The Coming Age might profit by the past.    

Persons Represented.  

Sir Rustic Good-Heart, an Illbred Country Gentleman, Mr. Johnson.  
Wilmore, his Son, Mr. Verbrugen.  
Wildman, his Friend, Mr. Horden.  
Sir Amorous Courtall, Mr. powel.  
Smyrna, a Turkey-Merchant, Mr. Cibber.  
Pulse, a Physician, M. Penkethman.  
Knowlittle, a Fortune-teller, Mr. Haynes.  
Timothy, his Man,  
Ready, Servant to Wildman,   

WOMEN.  
Lady Young-Love, an Old Vain Conceited Lady, Mrs. Kent.  
Marina, her Daughter, Mrs. Rogers.  
Belira, Secret Mistress to Wilmore, Mrs. Knight.  
Orinda, an Affected Poetess, Mrs, Cibber.  
Olivia, Smyrna's Wife, Mrs. Verbrugen.  
Isabel, Woman to Lady Young-Love, Mrs. Cole.  
Phoebe, Olivia's Maid, Mrs. Mills.  
Page.  
Servants.   
SCENE in London.   

THE Lost Lover, etc.  

ACT I.  

SCENE I. The Lady Young-Love's House.  Enter Wildman and Ready. Wild. 
I'll stay here till Mr. Wilmore comes in; do you go and see what's to be done at Old Smyrna's; Deliver this Letter to Mrs. Phebe, for her Lady: Ready, thou dost not want Arguments to corrupt a Waiting Woman's Fidelity, all the difficulty lies in Olivia's nicety, but I should have reason to have an ill Opinion of myself if I don't prevail, when I've a Friend in her Bosom that speaks for me, and only an old jealous Husband to oppose me.  Ready. 
Mrs. Phebe says Madam Olivia has the same kindness for you as before she was Married; but her Husband is so Jealous of her, he won't suffer her out of his sight Day nor Night.  Wild 
Poor Olivia; Thy Beauty nor Merit could not make thee happy, since Fortune was wanting in her favours: Thy Father buried thee in a Rich Old Merchant's arms, and 'tis my part to try to revive thee in mine.  Exeunt severally. Enter Marina, and Belira, Marina in a Travailing Dress. Bel. 
Without repeating further Welcome to you: My Dear Marina, How have you spent your time in the Country?  Mar. 
'Twas rough cast, and hung heavily upon every Spoke; neither Park, Play, nor Basset-Table, to call rugged Time along; sometimes indeed, when disburdened London, wanted new Air and Complexion for her Female inhabitants, I had the Diversion of seeing how well they could relish Country Sparks, after being cloyed with Town Beaux.  Bel. 
Nature is no Idler; the Fruitful Dame loves Employment; but pray what could she find out in your part of the World, for nice, well-dressed distinguishing Town-Ladies.  Mar. 
The thing with all the World, is being pleased, not who pleases; my pretty young Lady Made, her Lord leaving her in a Barren, wild unfurnished World of Sparks, cast her Eyes upon so near a Relation of his, that she mistook the West Country for Flanders; when undistinguishing Night had reduced the Sense of Seeing, into that of Touching.  Bel. 
Doubtless some believe it a Satisfaction, to prove the Difference between Town-Art, and Country-Nature; but how does Mrs. Conceit.  Mar. 
I sent a handsome Footman of mine, to make her a Compliment, and she interrupted him in the midst, to tell him he had a Pretty Mouth, which could be better employed, than in delivering his Lady's Message.  Bel. 
But what of that Ill natured, False, pretended piece of Virtue, my Lord Rural's second Daughter.  Mar. 
Married, long since; found a Fool to uphold her ill Nature, in railing at Mankind, and cloak her Pleasure in using them.  Bel. 
She did my Brother the Honour of taking that foolish Toy a Maiden head from him; he courted her for a Wife, and she wantonly asked him, if they could not love without Marrying.  Mar. 
Since that, she granted her favours in an open Calash, whilst her Husband drove it.  Bel. 
'Twas the boldest bravest Lover I ever heard of.  Mar. 
The Glory is due to her; for when he objected her Husband, she said his back had been turned a thousand Minutes, and 'twas hard if Fortune would not take care securely to allow her one of them.  Bel. 
Yet none pretends more to Virtue, nor will sooner swear her Neighbours wants in Uncharitableness to others; and count it as a certain 〈◊〉 of Defect in ourselves.  〈◊〉 
but all this time I forget; where's my Mother.  〈◊〉 
〈◊〉 to an Indian-House with young Wilmore, her Spouse that 〈…〉 for new Furniture, she means every thing 〈…〉 Gay and I●●●●ng as her Lover.  〈◊〉 
〈…〉 it enter into a Woman's head of fifty, to look back 〈…〉 Fellow of Twenty, whose first contrivance will be how to get 〈…〉, her Money excepted, and that once secured she may 〈…〉, what separate maintenance he is pleased to allow her, and he contented to starve all her life after, for having once made too large a least.  〈◊〉 
If I mistake not, she intrudes a little upon your right; you have not 〈◊〉 all your inclination for Mr. Wilmore.  Mar. 
They indeed prepare me towards making him a very Obedient Dutiful Daughter-in-Law.  Bel. 
Well, We'll spare your Modesty a farther Confession, and let you know to morrow is the Wedding day; but there's a Misfortune untold to you, nor could your imagination guests at it, Sir Rustic Goodheart has got my Lady Young Love's consent for Marrying you.  Mor. 
I see absence has not made my Mother better natured; but if she plays the Fool, I shall be wiser than to imitate her; besides, mine would be so much worse, as an Old Man is always less inviting than a Young.  Bel. 
Mr. Wilmore has showed himself so generous, that till you were sent for he refused to Marry your Mother, and then too but conditionally she should secure your Fortune to yourself.  Mar. 
'Tis surprising in a Father-in-Law; but is he in Love with her, (for I can wonder at nothing) or the Match imposed by his Father, for his Age scarce allows him to know the Value of Money enough to part with his darling Liberty for it.  Bel. 
She has made advances to him beyond belief; his good breeding received them Civil; whereupon she has forgot nothing that could make her less Ugly, though Age did not fail to overtop it all; Nature here was so unkind a Mistress, as to prevail in spite of Art.  Mar. 
I should never have guessed other; for when we are once arrived to a certain Point of time, we may even lay aside Pig-water, Patches and Curls, and be contented with less Admiration, so we meet but with more Esteem; but if he loves her not, what can provoke him to Marry her.  Bel. 
Gratitude and a Necessitous Fortune; besides, she has almost pucrhased him with rich presents, which has more Eloquence in them than all the Old women's Tongues in England.  Mar. 
Presents! Sure you forget yourself.  Bel. 
I know what I say; besides, where have you lived not to know, Money speaks for an Old Woman, when her Eyes no longer can: But to entertain you till my Lady Young-Love comes in, my Page shall sing you the last new Song.  

SONG.  

AH Dangerous Swains, tell me no more,  
Thy Happy Nymph you Worship and Adore;  
When thy filled Eyes are sparkling at her Name,  
I raving wish that mine had caused the Flame.   

If by your fire to her you can impart  
Diffusive heat to warm another's heart:  
Ah dangerous Swain, what would the ruin be,  
Should you but once persuade you burn for me.   Enter Lady Young Love, Wilmore.  Lady Young. 
Bid the Coach set up, and let the things be brought in here My Daughter come! God bless you!  Mor. 
I am over joyed to see your Ladyship, and to see you look so well.  Wil 
Your Ladyship's most humble Servant.  Salutes her. Lady Young. 
Belira, How do you like these figured Velvets; this I design for the Bed and Hang; this Violet colour suits agreeably with this Buff.  Bel. 
Most extremely well, Madam; does your Ladyship design a Mixture?  L. Young. 
I had thoughts of Paining and Bordering it with this Crimson and Green; but that sort of Furniture has been my aversion, ever since I saw my odious Lady Junkers Apartment set forth with Scotch Plad and Damask.  Bel. aside.] 
Confusion! How his Eyes are fixed on her, as if his Soul received her Charms, and wanted power to hid it!  L. Young. 
I don't look well to day, Mr. Wilmore.  Looks in her Glass. Wil 
Your Ladyship can never look other.  L. Young. 
Belira, thou won't flatter me; I have not red enough have I?  Mar. aside.] 
But from the Eyes to the Chin, and looks like the Raddle upon a Sheep's Back.  Bel. 
Your Ladyship is mistaken, I never saw you look better; there's a Curl indeed out of order with the motion of the Coach; Hold, incline your Head: So, very well, that Pink-coloured Ribbon suits agreeably with your Complexion.  L. Young. 
But do you really think, Mr. Wilmore, I look so well to Day.  Mar. 
He has reason to hope, Madam, that your Ladyship may look better to morrow Night.  L. Young. 
Have you catched hold of that report, who made you so wise?  Mar. 
Him that is to make your Ladyship so happy.  L. Young. 
Indeed, indeed, Mr. Wilmore, it derogates from you to talk with Girls. When I had a Mother, I durst never think of approaching her without Fear and Trembling. Now a Young thing as soon as ever she has bid farewell to Bibs and Aprons, is ready for a Love, and thinks herself with Noise and Impudence, better to be liked, than her Mother with all her Experience.  Enter Page. Page. 
Sir Rustic Goodheart desires to know if your Ladyship be at leisure.  L. Young. 
Always to him; I shall be glad of his Company Daughter, I have taken that care of your Fortune, as deceives not the Trust my late Lord reposed in me, Sir Rustic Good hear: and I, have agreed upon your Marriage; my Authority secures your Consent.  Mar. 
Marriage, Madam, is a thing I have not thought on, yet 'tis a Journey for Life, and that once considered, we ought to do every thing to make it as easy to us as possible.  Enter Sir Rustic Good Heart, Wildman. L. Young. 
Sir Rustic. your Servant; where have you been since dinner?  Sir Rustic. 
Be Dad, taking a Glass to this pretty Lady's health, Madam your Servant.  Wild. 
Your most humble Servant.  [They salute her. Wilmore, 
a very pretty Lady.  Wil 
I could think so to, if 'twere not of the latest.  Sir Rustic. 
Give me thy Hand sweet heart, thou'rt welcome to Town, be Dad with all my heart.  L. Young. 
What think you of a Walk in the Garden; the Lovers are engaged, and we would leave them together.  Wil 
We wait upon you.  [Manet Sir Rustic and Mar Sir Rustic. 
Which dost thou like best, my dear, the Town, or Country.  Mar. 
The Town, Sir, beyond Comparison, all good Judges are of my Opinion, I hope you are one of them.  Sir Rustic. 
Before George not I, yet if it had not been for me you had been there still; I persuaded my Lady to send for you up, and have provided a Husband for thee, Girl, what sayest thou to a Husband, heigh.  Mar. 
'Tis a sort of Creature, has not yet fallen under my Consideration.  Sir Rustic. 
All in good time, Child; I like thee ne'er the worse for that. You don't look like the forward things of the Town, that Marries a Man only to Cuckold him, Odds bobs thou wilt not do that, I hope, Child.  Mar. 
I don't understand you, Sir.  Sir Rustic. 
Come, we will be better acquainted, and then thou shalt understand me, heigh: to say truth, the way of making Cuckolds is soon understood.  Mar. 
Pray, Sir, at once forgive, and satisfy my curiosity; have you spent your time mostly in the Town or Country.  Sir Rustic. 
Be dad, Child, the Country; I never came to London but in times of Parliament, which thank Heaven were not very frequent in our late Reigns; do I look Wine your Sickly Londoners, the dregs of nothing but Pox and Wine, Hemh,— Hemb,— show me any young Fellow of them all, that can match me in Health and Vigour; neither Stone, nor Gout, nor the relics of any Distemper, but love of thee, Child.  Mar. 
Love of me, sure you mistake yourself, one would have imagined it, any other under the Sun at your Age.  Sir Rustic. 
Why there, bedad you're out, there's none Lovers but us old Fellows, the Young ones don't think it worth their time; show me such another as Old Sir Fairlove Fondling; why Child he does nothing but look Babies in her Eyes all day, but bedad I believe he sees but in Imagination, unless he borrows the assistance of Spectacles: He sets her, before George, in a great Chair in the very middle of a Chamber, and himself for hours together at her Feet, upon a Footstool, in admiration of her; there's encouragement now.  Enter Belira. Bel. 
My Lady Young-Love and her Counsel are in the Parlour, Sir, looking over the Writings, she desires your Company.  Sir Rustic. 
I come, I come; Sweet Mistress your Servant, till I see thee again.  [Exit Sir Rustic. Bel. 
I came Marina to your deliverance, I imagined how you were teized.  Mar. 
O hideous! Belira, did I think in Nature, there had been such an ill bred, awkard thing; why he's so great a Monster already, Horns can't make him worse.  Bel. 
And yet my Lady Young-Love says you must Marry him.  Mar. 
What with twelve thousand Pound, a great deal of Youth, no contemptible stock of Beauty, besides an untainted Reputation, that outweighs them all; believe me, Belirs, I'm not so far ignorant of my own worth, to bury it in him.  Bel. 
I wish you don't ruin yourself by the Refusal.  Mar. 
That Marriage is the greatest, and you must use all your Interest with my Mother to prevent it; or resolve to make me the most unhappy Creature breathing.  Bel. 
All aids that are in my power you may command: But has not your Journey tired you, you will not be for the Park this Evening.  Mar. 
The Name has unwearyed me; I'll but change my Cloahts and be ready for you.  Bel. 
My Lady Young-Lous has tired poor Wilmore; he has left her to her Bonds and Conveyances, and is gone to the Park before; would not you wish to meet him there?  Mar. 
Why thy question? He is my Mothers, and never can be mine; but we trifle: will you favour me with your Company, whilst I am Dreffing?  Bel. 
I'll follow you.  [Exit Marina. 
Yes, Marina, my Interest pulls too strong against you, to leave you a Moment to yourself till I have put it out of Fortune's power to injure me,  

Who trusts the fawning Jilt, must first believe,  
I trust her not, and cannot be deceived.   [Exit Omnes.   

ACT II.  

SCENE I. St. James's-Park.  Enter Smyrna and, Olivia. Smy. 
PRay, Gentlewoman be pleased to wear your Mask, till we're got out of this Road of Foppery; I had better have gone Ten Miles about.  Oliv. 
Lord, Mr. Smyrna, 'tis so hot, my Mask stisles me; but where are you going? I am sure Walking is not your Business, especially in this place.  Smy. 
Yes, Wife, to choose, that you may have the pleasure of comparing your old damned Jealous Husband, to these Gay fluttering Fops, that sail along by us; Here's your Gallant, Mr. Wildman, coming, put on your Mask, I say; Not for the World, I warrant you.  Enter Wildman. Oliv. 
'Tis too late, he has seen me, Husband, 'twill be uncivil.  Wild. 
Mr. Smyrna, your Servant; The fair Olivia here! Since when is it, Sir, you have been for far reconciled to our Lewd end of the World, to trust this Lady amongst us.  Smy. 
Hum, Sir, not too much of trusting neither, but yet, as you say, 'tis a dangerous place, for an old Fellow, that has an Handsome Wife; Have not you that Opinion of her, Mr. Wildman?  Wild. 
All the World must allow her that Character, but Faith, my Friendship to you, hinders me to think of her, as I would, if she were not thy Wife.  Smy. 
And you, forsooth, Have not you a just Esteem of Mr. Wildman's Merit?  Oliv. 
As I ought, I know my Duty to you, Husband, and never had a thought against it.  Smy. 
Why, very well, since you are both so indifferent, 'twere no great harm, if you never see one another again. As to you, Gentlewoman, 'tis Mortifying you too much, to suffer the Visits of a Man, who has not Sense to know your Worth; And, let me tell you, Mr. Wildman, I Love my Wife, and done't like People that slight her Charms, and prefer my Friendship to her Beauty, therefore till you come better prepared to do her justice, your Visits will be but offensive, and if ever you make another, I shall conclude you have taken a Friend's Advice. Come, wife.  Ex. Smy. and Oliv. Wild. 
Go thy ways, for an old Jealour, I wish be-gad, I could say, Cuckold, but my honest Endeavours shall not be wanting to make thee, that thou believest thyself.  Enter Wilmore. Wil 
Thank God for my deliverance, I'm got into the open Air again, without the encumbrance of an old Woman, who is not satisfied, unless you confine year Eyes to the Curse of meeting none but hers.  Wild. 
If thou art weary already, what wilt thou be when the Noose is fixed, and no kind relieving Hand can do thee the courtesy of unslipping it.  Wil 
I confess, I have given the Town reason to believe, I could allow May and December the two ends of time, to meet in our expected Wedlock.  Wild. 
The Opinion of thy Sense was not forfeited by that, we always believed, thou hadst enough to distinguish between the glittering Metal and the Alloy; But are you not resolved to Marry my Lady Young-Love.  Wil 
So far from it, that I would run myself into any other Noose in Christendom, to avoid hers; Marina is the Goddess here; You have doubtless heard her Father left her a Fortune of 12000 l. on Condition she Married with my Lady Young-Love's Consent, else Shame and Beggary to be her Portion.  Wild. 
That any Man should be so far wedded to the Follies of his Wife to desire the entailing of them upon his Posterity.  Wil 
I have held a long Age of Dissimulation with her Mother to permit her return to Town, and get her Fortune secured, engaged my Father with the hopes of Marrying her, and doubtless I should prevail over the old Lady, if it were not for another; but this is the hardest part of my Confession, for I think, whatsoever Custom can persuade, that Man's a Villain, who boasts a Lady's Favour.  Wild. 
Begad if our Town Ladies come to know how well thou art principled, thou may'st even make thy own Markets amongst them, 'tis not to be matched in thy green years, which commonly reckons the pleasure of telling as the foremost delight in an Amour.  Wil 
I am not Beaux enough for that yet. To be short then, Beliria who you know lives with, and governs my Lady Young-Love, did me the honour to like me, and I had reason to believe myself Master of her first Favours, I could not shake off her fondness, tho' all mine was secretly addressed to Marina, for whose sake I was forced to dissemble with Belire.  Wild. 
Begad that was slavery enough, for the trouble of getting hand somly rid of a Mistress, is ten times more than what it costs to make her such.  Wil 
She catched the discovery from my Eyes, and unknown to Marina persuaded liar Mother to send her into the Country, then to confound me further, the old Lady grew fond of me, Belira putting it into her Head, that it would Marry her, by which means, she constantly secured herself of seeing me, being in the same House, and reasonably thought, the interest she had in my Heart, ran no hazard, by bestowing my Person upon an old Woman.  Wild. 
Then how comes in, she has suffered Marina to return, for I perceive she manages at pleasure,  Wil 
'Twas conditionally, I Married my Lady Young-Love to morrow, and consented that Marina should be bestowed upon my Father.  Wild. 
And how do you think to evade either.  Wil 
'Tis for that reason I make this discovery to engage your assistance, Belira will not suffer her to sign for her Daughter's Portion, till the moment of Execution, but my present uneasiness is to entertain Marina, I have ordered Music and Dancing after Supper, if possible engage Belira in your Affairs, that she may not concern herself with mine.  Wild. 
You have ordered your own without considering my applications to Belira may ruin me with Orinda.  Wil 
Quite contrary, that Coquet never likes a Man so well as when he does not seem to be fond of her, trust my Opinion; besides 'twere no Obligation if you did not run a little hazard for your Friend.  Wild. 
You shall command me, and now I consider, I'll bring Sir Amorous Courtall, who is Fop enough, to think all Women that have fine  Beauties; him I design for the old Lady, if she should happen to like him 'twere no ill way of getting rid of her.  Wil 
That will be admirable, but be sure ply Beliria close, she's handsome enough to reward your pains, and because of her interest with my Lady Young-Love, the only Enemy I can apprehend,— They are come into the Walk, we'll meet them at the next turn.  Ex. Wil Wild. Enter Marina and Belira; meeting Orinda they salute. Ori. 
Your Lad'ships' most joyful humble Servant, you're welcome to Town; how long have you done it the honour to grace it with your presence.  Mor. 
But to day, Madam, I'm pleased at the good fortune of meeting you so soon.  Ori. 
Beliria your Servant, O Gud I've been at the Playhouse, where there has been the odiousest Play, so dull, that o' my Conscience, I shan't abide to set my foot in it again this Twelve Month.  Take snuff this time. Bel. 
I believe there was very little Company there this Wether; how come you to prefer that Diversion to Hyde-park?  Ori. 
O Gud, you may very well ask Beliria, for 'twas no choice of mine, an Alderman's Wife and Daughter did me the displeasure to Dine with me, and pressed me beyond decency to go with them; O Jesus, what a vexation 'tis to be with those precise sort of People, that would not go out of their Road, tho' to be less odious.  Mor. 
They were famously set out, I warrant you.  Ori. 
O most unsuitably, the very sight of their Trappings would have made you died of heat, of all things I hate Winter  in Summer; what say you Beliria?  Bel. 
That there are a sort of People that think Finery never out of season.  Orin. 
Lard, Marina, I finished a Copy of Verses last night, which I have sent to half a score of my Friends for their approbation, I bestowed the last upon admirable Sir Amorous Courtal, but I'll send you one of them.  Mor. 
You'll not fail.  Ori. 
Lard, Madam, what do you take me for? Beliria must come in too for a Judge.  Bel. 
Pray, what was the Subject?  Mor. 
I know none so Entertaining as herself.  Ori. 
O, Madam, your most grateful Servant, 'twas upon the different Addresses I have had made to me of late; O Jesus, such a glut of Foppery and Mankind; I long to breathe a little of the Country Air, that I may get rid of this Town Lumber, and entertain my Muse alone with the reflections of what she has left behind.  Mor. 
But, who is that Sir Amorous Courtall, he's sprung up since my reign.  Ori. 
O Gud, a very pretty Gentleman, Marina, so Airy, so well Dressed, so Handsome.  Bel. 
See how Opinions differ, if you'll take mine, Marina, he's the most outcast Fop in Nature, he once made the Campagne, but all he remembers of it, is running to Breda, which has given him fears enough to keep at home all his life after.  Mar. 
Orinda, Will you favour me with your Company to night, we have Music and Dancing?  Ori. 
I'll wait upon you anon, 'tis my Lady Junket's Visiting day, and she'll never pardon me, if I omit my Devoir.  Bel. 
O, that old Gossipping thing, she'll never have lost the relish of youth, but wishes so well too't, she'll bring young loving things together in spite of their Hearts.  Ori. 
Fie Beliria, Good I hate you, for being so censorious, because she allows the freedom of her Apartment to Quality of both Sexes; A Lady of her age can't be friendly or so, but presently she is thought procurish.  Bel. 
O, very friendly, and then so grateful, one Treat shall make her yours all her life after.  Enter Sir Amorous Courtall, Wildmore, and Wildman. Wil 
Ladies, your humble Servant, 'tis a delicate Evening.  Mar. 
Sir, your Servant, see Beliria, Orinda is stealing away, go after, and bring her back.  Bel. 
I have ill Nature enough to break an Appointment, and I fancy here is one.  Ex. after Orinda. Wil 
To Mar. I have that to say which it concerns you to know, favour me but with an opportunity after Supper, and let Beliria know nothing of it.  Mar. 
In the Garden I'll expect you.  Wil 
Ten thousand ages, till then, O Marina, do not fail me, my Heart will suffer unspeakably if you should.  Mor. 
No more, take my word I'll be there.  Enter Orinda and Beliria. Ori. 
O Jesus, sure Beliria you have lost your senses, who would be seized thus.  Bel. 
Together, and so thoughtful, I see the growing evil.  Aside. Sir Am. 
Let me be nothing, Madam, if ever I saw any thing so killing as your Eyes, they have Charms, my Heart never understood before.  Mar. 
Yours is a general gallantry to the whole Sex, Sir Amorous.  Orin. 
Lard, Sir. Amorous, what a loss should we have had, if you had made the Campagne.  Sir Am. 
I must confess I stayed in pure Charity to the fair Sex, to expose them, by my absence, was an inhumanity my Heart could not agree to.  Mar. 
I fancy, Sir Amorous, you are very fortunate in Amours.  Sir Am. 
Let me expire, Madam, if I have any reason to complain, but those fair Eyes, makes me forget, every thing but themselves.  Bel. 
I swear Mrs. Wildman, you talk pleasantly, come Marina, shall we not be going?  Mar. 
When you please; Orinda we must not leave you behind.  Wil 
You'll give me leave to wait on you to your Coach, Ladies.  Wild. 
Sir Amorous, not so fast, come back, [Ex. Monet. Wild. Sir Am] I've a word with you.  Sir Am. 
Pax on you, let me go, I must wait upon the Ladies, 'tis such an omission, that I shall never be pardoned, nor deserve the Esteem of a Gentleman amongst them.  Wild. 
You may appologize for that anon, I called you back, to give you a little Advice.  Sir Am. 
Be sudden then, I cannot live, divided from Marina.  Wild. 
The old fire, that flames upon sight of every new Face, but I design you for another, who exceeds her in advantages, as much as you do all the Playhouse Beaus in Dress and Gallantry.  Sir Am. 
No ill Comparison; who is it? I die to know.  Wild, 
First then, she's prodigious rich, wears extravagant fine , and has the best way of putting them on.  Sir Am. 
O, of all things, I love a Lady well Dressed, let me be nothing, if one that is other, does not look mean, and as if she were to be loved according.  Wild. 
Then she's Amorous, and will no doubt be presently taken with you.  Sir Am. 
'Pshaw, Pax, so they all tell me, I could have bated her that part of the Character, 'tis surfeiting.  Wild. 
Her Fortune however is enviting, if you apply yourself to her, she's rich enough to reward your labour.  Sir Am. 
Let me expire, if thou dost not talk scandalously, I hope 'tis not Matrimony thou hint'st at.  Wild. 
Why, you're too much a Man of Mode, to make the burden uneasy to you; a Civil Husband, and so forth, is all that a Wife can rationally expect from you.  Sir Am. 
Gad, now I think on't, Cold Civility to a Wife, giveth one a good air, let me die, if I could be fond of an Angel that I was once Married to, but to be seen abroad with her, were an extravagance, I should never forgive myself for.  Wild. 
Or if it should happen, once in an Age, I fancy, you you would make just such mien, as my Lord Stately, and his Lady, when they are together in one Coach at Hyde-Park.  Sir Am. 
Just for all the World, or let me expire, let me never breath, if I have not been passionately in love with her uneasy Frowns, and even ravished to find during the whole Park time she had not bestowed one word, nor look, upon her Lord, one would have sworn, but by her Frowns, she had not known him to be so near her.  Wild. 
Gad, I think he matches her, his lolling back in his Coach, without glance or motion, speaks as much mortification as her sulleness, the best we can conclude is, that they're hearty weary of one another.  Sir Am. 
Show me that Married Couple who are not, but then there's good Management in those Affairs, as in all others; Is it reasonable to disgust one self with a Wife's Company, only to oblige the Town with Matter for remark, let her take her Coach, and leave me the freedom of my Chariot, I'll give her the Ceremony of the Glass as we meet, pass on and make no uneasy reflections of the heavy load entailed upon Mortal life.  Wild. 
Besides, my Widow will set all uneasiness aside, and repair the breach you have made in your Estate.  Sir Am. 
The Campaign, the Campaign Charles, let me be nothing, if I did not lose Baggage to the value of 1500 l. all my Dressing Plate, Wardrobe, and Military Accoutrements, and was glad to secure myself at Breda, with only the days Provision upon my Back, thou art my Friend, to whom I may own such a Misfortune, let me expire, if ever I was in such a Consternation since I was born into the World.  Wild. 
'Tis now Eight a Clock; do you know my Lady Young-Loves here in the Square, any body will tell you the House, I'll meet you there at Nine.  Sir Am. 
Adieu; I'll walk over the Park to my Lodgings, writ an Excuse to an Expecting Lady, who does my Company the Honour to sigh for it, and then I'll be certain to wait upon you.  Exeunt severally.   

ACT III.  

SCENE I.  Enter Knowlittle, and his Man Timothy. Know. 
WHy truly Tim. we have had but a sorry Day on't.  Tim. 
Indifferent, Master, besides those that came to inquire after Stolen Goods; the Party that would know the Cause why she did not conceive, paid us notably.  Know. 
Look out some body knocks, Tim.  Tim. 
O Gemini, Master! 'Tis Mr. Smyrna, the Turkey Merchant, and Madam Olivia his Wife; I am very well acquainted with her Maid, Mrs. Phoebe.  Know. 
Peace, we must not pretend to know them till the Stars have been consulted: I'll to my Study, mind your hits, Tim. and get what intelligence you can.  Exit. Enter Smyrna, Olivia, and Tim. Smyrn. 
Where's your Master, Friend, I hope 'tis not too late to speak with him.  Tim. 
In his Study, Sir; I'll go and acquaint him with your being here; He does not use to appear after Sun.  Exit Tim. Oliv. 
Lord, Husband, you are the strangest Man in the World, what will People think of you?  Smyrn. 
What, Mistress, you're afraid the Devil should speak Truth, and discover your Abominations.  Oliv. 
The Devil's the Father of Liars, how should he speak Truth.  Smy. 
You are the Mother of Liars, and that Cuckold maker Wild-man, one of your vile Disciples.  Oliv. 
Because you heard he courted me before I was Married, you think I must needs be naught with him.  Smy. 
No, no, very Good in your sense, I warrant; Naught, why thou art not a Citizen's Wife for nothing; thou hast more grace I trust in the Lord, than not to think Cuckolding thy Husband a good honest practicable Thing; those are naught who do it so awkardly that the World is acquainted with it; nay their very Husbands, who are always the last in knowing the Favours that are done them.  Oliv. 
But sure, you don't believe, that an ignorant blockhead of a Fortune-teller, should speak any thing like Truth.  Smyr. 
I'll tell you what I believe though, Mistress, in my case of Enquiry your Ladyship can exceed all the Cunning men in England, and read our Fortunes to a Tittle; but the Devil's in't, you won't make me as wise as yourself, but put me here upon unlawful means, the Sin will lie at your door, Wife, you'd as good confess, and save charges into the Bargain.  Oliv. 
If I should, I'm sure you would not believe me.  Smyr. 
The Devil take me then; Come be quick, before Master ginger comes.  Oliv. 
Lord, Husband, what do you take me for? Why, if it were so, do you think I'd be such a Fool to confess.  Smyr. 
No; Thou'rt wiser o'my Conscience, but be sure you are as trusty to other Folks; you Women have she Friends that you discover your failings to, and that way the Secret comes about; 'tis for your Interest, as well as mine, to keep the matter private, if 'twere but for the sake of preserving your Lovers; they are squeamish amongst such a glut of women's Flesh, and are disgusted by that which has been blown upon; but see the Devil appears to decide our Controversy.  The Scene Opens and discovers Knowlittle behind a long Table; Books, Globes, Compasses, Pen, Ink, Paper, etc. Know. 
Is your business with me, Friend.  Smyr. 
Yes, Mr. Knowlittle, I've a doubtful Question to be resolved, therefore there's something by way of Encouragement, only whether my Wife do me Justice, you understand me Friend; I'm plaguily afraid of being a Cuckold, an ignorant Cuckold, Sir, for that's all; Pray consult the Stars, that I may come to the knowledge of my good Fortune.  Know. 
We'll erect a Scheme, or as the Vulgar term it, cast a Figure, and give you the Opinion of the Stars thereupon.  Smyr. 
He's Conjuring; we shall immediately see the Devil in the Circle.  Oliv. 
Are you so silly to believe it, he seems to be a sorry ignorant Knave, that has more Will than Power to do Evil.  Smyr. 
They say a Woman can outwit the Devil, and I believe outface him too— Well, Mr Knowlittle, have you done? What do the Stars say, am I represented with Horns like Capricorn, with a certain Tall-young Gentleman in my Figure, who does my Wife the Honour to Love her, better than she can her Husband.  Know. 
Your Wife, Sir, looks like a good Virtuous Lady, and your Figure speaks you to be a mighty dissatisfied Person, a little troubled in your Brain with Jealousy; but either my Skill deceives me, or you have no occasion for it.  Smyr. 
How say you Master Knowlittle, do you like my Wife too? does the Stars denote me for further Cuckoldom, what encouragement do they give you, to take her part for she's so bad, not one Devil in Hell dares do it without a Bribe.  Know. 
Is that one question all you would have resolved.  Smyr. 
Ay Friend, and I see 'tis more than thou canst do, thou art going to convince me of the Vanity and Folly of all those who have helped thee to deceive themselves.  Know. 
How, Sir, do you undervalue my Profession?  Smyr. 
O no, Sir, Your Profession is a very Learned Profession; but I much doubt the Skill of the Professor:  Know. 
Were it not for this Virtuous, Good Lady, I could show you a Proof of my Art would make you tremble; yet verily it may be a means to acquit her; how say you, Sir, if you dare stand it, I'll raise a Familiar to convince you, and protect your Wife near me.  Smyr. 
Would you frighten me into an Opinion of your Art, you that can't tell a Man whether, or no, he's a Cuckold; I have no Faith in you, and therefore dare stand the Worst.  Knowlittle takes Olivia behind the Table and whispers her, turns over his Books, uses postures of Conjuration, stamps with his Foot; then Tim arises, dressed like a Fury, with a Wand in his Hand, strikes Smyrna thrice over the Head with it, Oliva shrieks, Smyrana trembles, looks affrighted, and sinks down as sueh in a Chair. Tim. 
From Hell's deep Centre, hither am I come,  
To warn thee, Mortal of thy heavy doom;  
Thy Wife is Chaste, yet shalt thou not believe,  
Thy Visionary Doubts, thy Mind deceive;  
Therefore remain accursed, and may'st thou find,  
Thy constant plague, in thy suspicious Mind.  Descends. Oliv. 
Mr. Knowlittle, accept of this Gratuity; my Husband faints! Lord, I wish his fears have not taken away his use of Hearing, He'll never remember what the Devil said to him.  Know. 
Sir, Sir; How fares it with you?  Oliv. 
Lord! How do you do, dear Husband? I'm frighted out of my Wits; I'll never venture to the Devil again with you, you shall even go by yourself, next time for me.  Smyr. 
Ay poor Wife; as thou sayest thou wilt, I believe, for sake me in all Perils; but is he gone are you sure.  Know. 
Gone; Yes, Sir, what do you think; by virtue of my Art I can lay as well as raise— This 'twas to be incredulous, and undervalue the Mysteries of Knowledge; I was sorced to use extraordinary means to convince you: O the Blindness snd Stony-heartedness of the Ignorant.  Smyr. 
Pray let a Coach be called— I'm very ill— but Master Fortune-Teller, your Skill in the Black-Art, shan't make me believe my Wife the Fairer.  Oliv. 
'Tis the Capricio of all Old Men, Jealous of every thing that's Younger than themselves.  Know. 
Ay, poor Lady; Heaven endow you with Patience▪— There's a Coach, Sir.  Smyr. 
Is there, come Wife; good Night Friend.  Know. 
Sir, your Servant; Madam your Servant: Tim. wait upon the Gentry to the Coach.  Ex. Smy. Oliv. Tim. 
Verily this Evening has helped the Morning, and both together made a good Day, few better.—  Enter Tim. 
Now, Tim. thou didst it admirably.  Tim. 
Ay, Master, did not I; He little thinks, that from my hiding place, I overheard all he said; but how did the Habit set upon me.  Know. 
As like as the Devil could be, every one in there way, Tim. all Trades have their Cheats, and this is to be said for ours, we do it with their own consents.  Tim. 
Ay, Master, better this than worse, every thing would fain live, and we do but our honest endeavours thereto.  Know. 
Come, let's go in and pray, to morrow may but prove as good a Day.  Exeunt Omnes.  

SCENE II. Lady Young Love's House.  Enter Sir Rustic, Wildman, and Belira. Wild. 
TO Morrow, Sir Rustic is the happy day.  
Sir Rus. Be-gad, I long for the Sack-posset, and throwing the Stocking; that was the Fashion when I was Married, and a good Sociable one too; I mean to make use of it still. He, he, he! I have been telling her, how eager all the young Fellows will be of hitting the Bride in the Face; but bedad, I hope I shall hit her better somewhere else; before George, I'll try to get a Nap in this Chair, and Dream of to Morrow, before to Morrow comes.  Bel. 
Sir Rustic is falling asleep over his Wooing. When we force Nature beyond herself, she must return for a recruit.  Wild. 
Be-gad Madam! You don't know what an Insipid Fellow I am this way; I never Love taking fruitless pains: If I had not a real Inclination for you; the Devil take me, I if would pretend it: For where's the satisfaction of dissembling; when that, which should be a reward to our endeavours, disgusts our Inclinations.  Bel. 
You Men of the Town, never value a Woman for herself; 'tis only to increase the Wretched number, tho' yourselves are never the better for it.  Wild. 
That's only seen amongst the Lose, Idle part of Mankind; who not setting a value upon their own Reputations, think it no fault to Expose a Lady.  Bel. 
Well, not disputing any further your Talon of Secrecy, what Security can you give of your Sincerity?  Wild. 
Your Charms, and the opinion the World has of my Sense: Be-gad, would you have a more undoubted one? If a Woman be very handsome, and meets with a Man who has Wit enough to know and value it; the Consequence speaks itself, and needs no Corroborating Evidence.  Bel. 
Well, enough of this to Night; I receive you for my Lover, and as such, you must do me what Service I desire. Wilmore and you, are mighty Friends. Has he told you nothing of his concern for Marina?  Wild. 
He's to Marry her Mother— Besides Child! I never care to hear those sort of secrets, for fear they should expect mine in return.  Bel. 
However indifferent your are, I'll tell you one; tho' the Report runs of to Morrow. Wilmore, must Marry my Lady Young Love privately this Night, and if you please, you shall have the Honour of bestowing her upon him.  Wild. 
Your Commands would make greater difficulties easy; but Pox, why this haste, to bring a young Fellow into slavery? Does he know the Design?  Bel. 
She carried him hence to tell him: I can't imagine how she'll bring it about; for I fancy, one must be a good deal out of Countenance, to let a young Fellow know, one has a mind to lie with him, one Night sooner than he designed.  Wild. 
Ay, or desired; for if I were to be Mr. Bridegroom, that would be my Case always with an old Woman: But where is he now?  Bel. 
Shut up with her in her Closet; if you'll stay a Moment, I'll go see what's become of 'em.  Exit Belira. Bel. 
If we don't take care, this Gipsy will be too cunning for us all; Pox take Sir Amorous; Where can he stay?  Enter Isabel. Isa. 
Is Madam Belira here? My Lady Inquires for her.  Wild. 
No Child, she's just gone; but here's a Friend of yours, would be glad to see you at my Lodgings.  Isa. 
I assure you Mr. Wildman, you are mistaken in me; I would not be a Whore, if you would keep me a Coach and Six Horses, to tend me all days of my Life.  Wild. 
Nay, now I'm sure you lie.  Exit Isabel. Enter Wilmore. Wil 
Pox take all old Amorous Women; I stink of Petter as bad as herself: I fancy it to be like our Perriwiggs, that retain the scent of Tobacco, after being in a City Coffeehouse. Belira has told you.  Wild. 
Yes, yes— Have you seen Marina?  Wil 
Where should I see her, in her Mother's Closet? Be-gad, you would have laughed yourself to Death, to hear her break the business to me. She was in so good a Humour, that had I not wanted Witnesses, she would have signed, without consulting her Oracle, Belira.  Wild. 
'Tis pity, the Poor Lady should be disappointed of a Husband; Sir Amorous shall Marry her.  Wil 
But how? I don't think it feasible.  Wild. 
We'll try to turn our Modern Comedy-Plots into good, sober, earnest, and make her Marry one for another.  Wil 
Impossible! Belira is her shadow, and not to be deceived. They stay Supper for us; my appointment holds with Marina; the Music will amuse the rest of the Company; if possible, don't let Belira follow us.  Wild. 
If she follows you, I'll follow her, I assure you, for I've talked myself, into a kind of liking of her; but we must not leave the old Gentleman behind us. Sir, Sir! How sound he sleeps? He's taking up his Rents beforehand, and providing for to Morrow Night, which he Fancies will be no good one of rest to him: They stay Supper for you Sir Rustic.  Sir Rus. 
Supper, why, what's a Clock?  Yawns and wakes. Wil 
Near ten, Sir: Shall we wait upon you down?  Sir Rus. 
I had rather you should wait upon me up, Sir, a good Bed in my Country is worth ten Suppers; but bedad, I must not tell my Mistress so till I am her Master. Come along.  Wil 
We wait upon you Sir.  Exeunt omnes.   

ACT IU.  

SCENE I.  Lady Young Love's House. The Scene opens, and discovers Lady Young Love, Marina, Sir Amorous Courtall, Wilmore, Wildman, Orinda, Belira. Song and Entertainment of Dancing. L. Y. L. 
WHere's Sir Rustic, that he has not honoured us with his Company?  Wil 
I left him taking a Grace-Cup with your Ladyship's Chaplain. Mr. Priest-Craft will be too hard for him, they are so used to their Sanctified Wine they can swallow a large share of our unhallowed Juice of the Grape. Be pleased to know my Friend, Sir Amorous Courtall.  Exit after Marina. L. Y. L. 
As such I must ever value and esteem him.  Sir Am. 
Your Ladyship 's most Obedient Servant; let me Expire, if ever I saw any thing so taking as your Ladyship 's Civility.  L. Y. L. 
Lard Sir Amorous! Do you consider whose in the Company? These young Ladies will have reason to Quarrel at your Judgement, or rather I should be displeased at your insincerity.  Sir Am. 
Let me expire Madam, if ever I saw any thing so engaging as your Air. O that Dress, that Dress Madam! The Devil take me if the Drawing Room in all its Birth-night finery, can show us any thing equal to it.  L. Y. L. 
I wish I had but as good a Title to the rest of your Commendations; but time was, when they might have passed upon me with less injustice.  Sir Am. 
Be-gad Madam, no time like the present: The Sun is not in his glory till he is mounted to the Meridian, let me die; if I can imagine yourself, could ever exceed yourself.  L. Y. L. 
Lard, Sir Amorous, you're extreme Courtly! How unfortunate have I been till now, in wanting your Acquaintance! I never had so sudden an esteem for any one. O! I Love a well bred Man, in my Soul— Good Breeding— There's no Charm exceeds it. Pray Sir Amorous have you not been abroad?  Sir Am. 
Yes Madam, I have fetched the Tour of all the Courts in Italy, made some small residence in Spain, but their Gravity disgusted me, and therefore made haste to pass into France, which had every thing that a well bred Gentleman could desire, either to Instruct or Entertain.  L. Y. L. 
Lard, 'tis strange! I durst have sworn that very thing by your Air, your janty, way of Dress, your Periwig. Oh Jesus! How ravishing the Curls fall to cover your Face, and leave us almost nothing besides to Contemplate. Ah! how far you exceed all that ever I saw in the Art of Powdering. Belira, don't you think Sir Amorous Dresses extremely well?  Bel. 
Undoubtedly, Sir Amorous, I beg your Pardon I did not see you sooner— Heigh, this is Gallantry indeed! What a new Dress!  Wild. 
The Devil take thy Foppery; was it for this, thou madest us stay for thee?  Sir Am. 
I had a Misfortune, just as I was crossing to my Lodging, a filthy Carman dashed me most intolerably, a just reward for being on foot in the dirty Street; I was forced to change my  before I was fit for this shining Assembly.  Orin. 
Sir Amorous, your most devoted, Admirer— Lard, my Lady Young Love, did you ever see any Steenkirk have that Air? Never could Madam, the Princess de Conty, have hoped a Copy, so transcending the Original.  L. Y. L. 
'Tis all of a Piece, all Sir Amorous, in a word; all that can be named, the fine Gentleman, the Courtier, the Something beyond all, the Modern expressive word of Beau.  Sir Am. 
Let me expire, if your Ladyship has not the best Judgement. is not my Sword-knot extremely fine and just?  Orin. 
O, of a most ravishing length— What is Fashion, for well bred People, If, as Mr. Bays says, we don't top our parts?  Wild. 
Your Ladyship 's unacquainted with one Sir of Amorou's Excellencies; he Dances to a Miracle, and carried it from all the Quality at the last Court Ball.  Sir Am. 
A Corant or Minuet, Madam, I am no higher Dancer: Will your Ladyship do me the Honour of a Minuet?  L. Y. L. 
Sir Amorous, I must beg your Pardon, if I share the Dance, I shall lose the entire Prospect of your Person; Belira, if she pleases shall oblige us.  Wild. 
Nay, be-gad Madam, you shan't go till Sir Amorous has done with you.  Bel. 
Eternal Impertinence, they are both missing, and undoubtedly together. Sir Amorous, I'm not in Humour, and shall make but an ill Figure, Orinda will do much better.  Sir Am. 
Let my be nothing, Madam, if she has not ten times more Chagrin in her Looks than your Ladyship. I must not be refused.  L. Y. L. 
Sir Amorous Dances in Perfection.  Dance. Wild. 
I told your Ladyship his Talon, I was sure you would not find me in a mistake.  The Dance done, Belira goes out. Wildman follow her. Orin. 
So slighting, she has Debauched him from me. O I can't hold my Muse! Muse go Lament the Misfortune.  

For to Love is Noble frailty; but Poor sin,  
When once we fall to Love, unloved again.   Exit Orinda. Sir Am. 
O your Ladyship flatters me, or let me die! But to say what has been said before, Blows from hands so soft, who would not bear!  L. Y. L. 
Sir Amorous, you are a Judge of Decorum and Decency; what say you to walking in, and seeing the Bridal Bed?  Sir Am. 
I'll follow your Ladyship through the World; but I shall expire in seeing the place where my Happiness is to be Sacrificed.  L. Y. L. 
O Jesus! 'Tis a thousand pities so pretty a young Gentleman should have an uneasy Moment.  Exeunt.  

SCENE Changes to the Garden.  Wilmore, and Marina. Mar. 
GRant, I dispense with that one Form of our Sex, disbelieving a Lover, when he first tells us he is such; how can you avoid my Mother, or delay her expectations? Belira, whose reasons I could not comprehend before; will do all that's necessary to ruin our intelligence.  Wil 
If nothing else can secure me, your Denial must.  Mar. 
Twelve Thousand Pounds is a Forfeiture too great to oblige an Enemy with. I hear Belira's voice, she must not see us together.  Exit Marina. Enter Belira, followed by Wildman. Bel. 
But why do you follow me?  Wild. 
But why do you fly me?  Bel. 
Marina shot that way. I see Wilmore at the bottom of the Walk, I have business with him; oblige me, and leave us together.  Wild. 
You Command me.  Exit. Wildman. [Wilmore comes forward.] Wil 
Here so late Belira?  Belgiosa. 
I come in search of you, the Bride expects you.  Wil 
To Night! It must not be.  Bel. 
The same thing as to Morrow, the sooner 'tis over the better; for in these cases our fears are the worst part of our punishment. Was not Marina with you? she is wanted. Sir Rustic has drank himself into a Matrimonial Temper, and Mr. Priest-Craft Swears twelve at Night, is as Canonical as that at Noon.  Wil 
Belira, have you Loved me!  Bel. 
Has not my Ruin told you?  Wil 
Then do you Love me?  Bel. 
Yes, to see you happy— But the Mask is off, and thou canst Cheat no more, and I no more believe.  Wil 
You never Loved, but now abhor me.  Bel. 
You reproach me with what I would be; do not, do not rouse the Woman in me, I would be Calm to Night and see you Married.  Wil 
Rather see me Buried.  Bel. 
Perhaps so— Could the remembrance of my Wrongs but sleep with thee, I would not Envy thee a quiet Grave.  Wil 
Farewell, we part for ever, I'll leave the Town this Minute.  Bel. 
At least, Sir, if you will not Marry yourself, but unkindly leave your Bride thus in the longing Moment; do your Father the honour to grace his Marriage.  Wil 
What have I done, that you should wish to make me Wretched?  Bel. 
What hast thou left undone to make me such?  Wil 
Your Reputation yet stands fair, and uless your own Indiscretion betrays you the Secret shall be such, with me for ever.  Bel. 
But thy heart, Traitor, thy perjured Heart; tell me, how shall I get it back?  Wil 
Never this way, I assure you.  Bel. 
'Tis given for gone then— Go— Live as Wretched as I can make you, I'll think no more upon you.  Wil 
Where, Madam, are you going?  going. Bel. 
To a Wedding, Sir, Marina's Wedding; you say we must not Dance at yours.  Wil 
Rather of the two Belira, but why to Night?  Bel. 
All Bridgrooms are not as backward as yourself; your Father has the start of you, in desire as well as years, he is impatient of his Happiness.  Wil 
You are Peevish Belira; does your Love make you Jealous?  Bel. 
I have none, the Moor has taught me better; no longer doubting, away at once with Love and Jealousy.  Wil 
Then 'tis Spite disturbs you: In what have I deserved it?  Bel. 
Look in thy false perfidious Heart, and take my Answer thence.  Wil 
That speaks of nothing you can quarrel with.  Bel. 
Then I will stay and argue with thee, how often hast thou told, thou couldst for ever Love me?  Wil 
I told you that I could, not that I would.  Bel. 
Poor Caviller, those who can jest with Oaths, can play with Words— You'll come after and wish the Bride Joy.  Wil 
We must not part thus, you were not used to fly my Arms.  Bel. 
By all that's good, he has got the sorry cunning of our Sex; just so does a Wife when her Husband has caught her false, the gilting Creature cries, Do you believe it Spouse? you do not use to be so unkind— Ha', ha', ha'— Let me Laugh, tho' 'tis maliciously; go on, I'm in the Vein of Audience; let me hear some disagreeable Truths, and how well thou canst turn Woman; Marina is at stake before you, do it handsomely; I would be fortified in my Aversion, and have my hate implacable.  Wil 
'Tis Barbarous to insult, where you should rather pity.  Bel. 
I do, let all the World be judge else; nay, do more than Pity, I would prevent your Ruin, and stop the Passage up to your undoing, would save you from the Ills, nay, Scorns of Poverty, keep your Friends such, and put it in your Power to be one by still Preserving you: The World's opinion, who judge of Merit but by Fortune's Favours.  Wil 
We know the Extent of your Generosity: But serve me as I would be served, Belira.  Bel. 
I thought this was your way: I mistook you for him that was to Marry my Lady Young Love— But I'll go look for certainties within.  Going. Wil 
Come back Belira, 'tis my last Call: I would satisfy thy Womanish Revenge, and let thee see me Cursed by any other way than Fatal Marriage— Take my Sword— Thy Malice can supply thy want of use, despite can furnish strength, and too often thou hast found the way to my unhappy Heart to miss it now.  Bel. 
Ha', ha', ha', in Love to dying! By all that's good, turned Hero: Your Mistress, Sir, is much obliged— Keep your Sword, it may be a Fortune better worth than all your Father's Lands; there's Wars abroad, you may employ it in, 'twill keep your Wife from wanting here at Home.  Wil 
Am I indeed your Scorn, Proud, Fantastic Woman; thy liking was foul Lust; not Love: That gentle Name brings Happiness, but thou— Let me not think upon thee, for fear it force my Tongue to something worse, than should be said of Ladies; I've served it seems, as long as you could like, and now you choose another.  Bel. 
Would it were come to that, I would exchange thee, for the last of Men, and think the Bargain Cheap, would part with all that goodly Form, for honest Ugliness, and think it fairer; thy Youth for Age, and Dote upon his Doatage— So in return I found but Truth, mark well that word, that word has Charms thou never knewest, and which outweighs thine.  Wil 
Belira, thou hast power to read my Soul; thy Magic Spells are . How hast thou found this Failing in my Virtue, which I not knowing of, my Wants could never miss till now?  Bel. 
Thank my Wit, Nature's best Gift— I've seen your shunting poor designing Arts, to wave this Marriage and promote another. Your care too, of Marina's Fortune falsely guilded with the weak pretence of Generosity; 'twas not doubled thick enough for me: But because Doubts never should condemn the Man I Loved, I would not seem to doubt till I was certain; therefore no more dissembling, 'tis vain, Marina never shall be yours; and if you could not think it an unhappiness, I fain would keep you mine.  Wil 
Give me this Night to think in, I'll promise nothing, but this: I'm Grateful where I am obliged.  Bel. 
To show your Power, I will; my Lady Young Love through my persuasion designed this the Marriage Night; I'll excuse you to her, but not one word or thought of Marina, for in that Moment she shall be bestowed upon another; I would divide the World, rather than you should meet; I hope to Morrow, we may give you joy; this Night I find but little.  Exit Belira. Wil 
Less thou hast left behind, O the curse of Lewdness! What Woman 's Fair after we find her Faulty? What Lady Innocent, when no longer Chaste? Or who so vain to hope for Honour, or for Pity from that Soul who wants it for herself?  Enter Wildman. Wild 
What I hear 'tis deferred, there's no hopes of Posset. Be●ria has dissmissed me till to Morrow, she's gone to your Bride; by this time Sir Amorous has supplanted you, he is shut up with her, and has impudence enough to bid fair for it.  Wil 
They talk of Eating against one's Stomach, but no Surfeit is so nauseous, as what I'm in danger of, Belira catched me in the Action; and Faith, a sinner must have more impudence than I, who 〈◊〉 deny matter of Fact.  Wild. 
Be gad, I have Pimped to a fair end: What to let a Woman outwit thee? How could you once think of being sincere to one, whose Interest runs counter to yours? I would have dissembled as much Love as I had Aversion; nay Counterfeited my first desires, and suffered her, to believe she had preserved the Conquest of me now, that I might have Triumphed over her all my life after.  Wil 
Very well, I am railed at on all sides.  Wild. 
Thou hast this Moment in thy Face, all the Mortification of poor Lenten Penitents, and look'st more akin to the Spirit than the Flesh. I believe thou art not in the condition of Wedlock. Confess your Misfortune to my Lady Young-Love, I know no reason, why a Man should pretend false Courage, when by it he runs himself into an inconveniency, he might have otherways avoided.  Enter Sir Amorous. Am. 
Faith, if lying, dissembling and flattering, can deserve her, I have done it. After we parted, I underwent the Mortification of an Arrest, which has the better fitted me for that of Matrimony; 'twas necessary for me, to have just got out of the Baliffs hands, to be able to go through with her, or else let me expire, if I could have done it.  Wild. 
But what's the Consequence, Sir Amorous?  Sir Am. 
No more, than deferring the Marriage. The Deuce take me if I don't think it Exceeds all Herculeses Labours, to be able to persuade a Widow to lie alone, when she is resolved to have a Bed-fellow.  Enter Ready. Wild. 
The next Affair shall be resolved in your Chamber, where I'll wait Sir Amorous and you in a Minute.  Wil 
Nay if you would be private, I'm discreet.  Sir Am. 
Let me be nothing, if he has not some melting Billet, I know it by his very Air. Good Fortune to thee Charles.  Exeunt Sir Amorous, Wil Wild. 
Reads, Hum! to Morrow Morning like a Physician. Ready, where had you this Letter?  Ready. 
Mrs. Phoebe brought it to your Lodgings. She says her Master has been at the Fortune-tellers, to Inquire, whether your Honour had made him a Cuckold.  Wild. 
I am sorry, the Devil could not answer him in the Affirmative: She writes me word that Symrna's sick with his fright, and that I may pass upon him for a Physician; however, I believe my skill lies most Olivias' way. Ready, go and knock up my Apothecary; borrow his Velvet Coat with the great Gold Buttons. A few hard words, of Plebotomy, Purgative, Laxative, and I shall be set up in my Profession, and look like any Collegiate Doctor of them all— Why then, the Devil take me if I don't go— Now the matter's brought to Perfection, I'll not fall asleep over the Brazen Head, when it should answer me. Yes.  

I'll watch the falling of the Golden Shower,  
And reap my Harvest in the shining Hour.   Exeunt omnes.   

ACT V.  

SCENE I.  Olivia 's Chamber. Olivia and Phoebe. Phoe. 
BY my Troth, Madam, if all Ladies should follow your Example, Solitude would make them soon turn honest; and then where were the Employment for Wit and Scandal? You need not be in such a Terror of my Master, he sleeps as sound as a Top; and should Mr. Wildman come in the Interim, we might introduce him to your Ladyship without his being the wiser.  Oliv. 
I hear knocking at the Gate; go see if your Master be awake. Why do I tremble thus? I neither distrust my Virtue, nor his Care of it. Yet a secret Gild condemns me, because I exceed in Form. If the Shadow of an Injury gives such Uneasiness, what do they suffer by Remorse who actually offend?  Enter Wildman like a Physician, Phoebe. Wild. 
My Life! my charming, bright Olivia!  Oliv. 
Alas, Mr. Wildman, these Transports are not my Due; you know I am honest; neither my Husband nor you can make me otherwise: Therefore urged by your Thousand Importunities, I have indeed sent for you, but 'tis to forbid any more Billet Douxes, not one Love Letter more, as you hope to have all those kindly received which you shall dispatch to your next Mistress.  Wild. 
You amaze me, Madam!  Oliv. 
Secondly, no Corrupting Presents to my Woman; no attempting her weak Virtue, in hopes to prevail upon her Ladies; for the first moment I suspect it, I shall be offended at you, and send her packing, to carry you the News of it.  Phoe. 
I was afraid I should suffer as an Accomplice.  Oliv. 
Thirdly, no extravagant Civilities to Mr. Smyrna; no returning cold Affronts with fond Caresses; no carrying him to the Tavern, and paying his Club there, as if that were to be the Price of his Wife at home; nor vain Hopes of having the Proverb of your side, That Cuckolds are kind to those who make them so.  Wild. 
'Twas something indeed, he was always so damned jealous of me; had he had but the Title, I would not have questioned the Benefit of the Proverb, his Horns would have blinded him.  Enter Doctor Pulse. Pulse. 
Madam, a good Morning to you.  Oliv. 
My Husband's Physician unsent for! What's to be done?  Pulse. 
I have been at Mr. Simpler's your Apothecary, who told me Mr. Smyrna was taken dangerously ill; whereupon I thought it my Duty to visit him: But, blessed be God, he's in a fine breathing Sweat: When he has taken what I shall prescribe, I hope he may be better.  Oliv. 
Indeed, Dr. Pulse, he has had a very bad Night.  Pulse. 
By his Habit, I should guests this Gentleman to be of the Faculty. Pray, Sir, if it may be without Offence, what are you called? I do not believe you to be of the College; I never saw your Face before, to my knowledge.  Wild. 
My Business, Sir, is with my Patients, and not to answer impertinent Questions.  Pulse. 
Cry you mercy, good Mr. Mountebank; a Stage, I suppose, is your Occupation. Madam, since you have employed this Quack, even make use of him for good and all. A lawful Consultation I should not have refused; and so much good may do you with your Merry Andrew.  Exit Pulse. Oliv. 
I'm glad he's gone. Mr. Wildman, you know your Doom; we must part upon't.  Wild. 
Prithee, dear Olivia, have more good Nature: Do I deserve no Reward for all my unwearied Hours of Love? No soft Compassion due for all I have suffered? This is mortifying one beyond any thing.  Oliv. 
They say Revenge is natural. For your Comfort then, you have yours upon me, since I can't punish you, but I must share in't myself.  Wild. 
Were that true, Olivia, you could not use me thus. That Kindness you once flattered me with, tho' it were but a Name, has now lost that. You tell me, I am to be sacrificed to your Virtue— but I'm afraid 'tis to some more happy Lover.  Oliv. 
Why, I have never enjoyed you. If Love were my Business, might I not find it with you? I never heard before, that any thing besides Possession brought Satiety.  Wil 
Did you never stay so long for your Dinner, that your A petite was lost when you came to it? methinks I see you reasoning with it, then surveying me— And crying 'twon't do, it this the Treat I longed for?  Oliv. 
Your comparison might hold indeed, if you could prove I had stayed my Stomach before I came to Dinner: But my Husband 's no such inviting Dish, and I can assure you, too provident, to allow me much variety.  Enter Smyrna sick in his Nightgown, led by Pulse. Pulse. 
He's a mere Quack, and so you'll say when you see him; if you make use of him, he'll certainly be the Death of you.  Smyr. 
Ay Doctor Pulse, not unlikely.  Oliv. 
Oh Heavens defend me, here's my Husband! Lord, Mr. Smyrna you have affrighted me out of my Wits, my very Heart beats in my Body. Doctor Pulse said, you were all in a Sweat, and I'm afraid you'll catch your Death, by rising in the Cold.  Smyr. 
'Twill be very well Mistress, if I find your Heart agree with your Tongue. But what Quack have you brought me here— Nay, face about Doctor, I don't doubt your Experience, nor Murdering by the Rules of Art— Mercy on us— Ay marry Sir, this is like a Wife indeed— What, Mr. Wildman turned Physician! Friend Pulse, you need never have troubled your head about this business, my Wife meant to keep this able Doctor to herself; this Gentleman's design lay in supplanting me, not you.  Wil 
Impudence must carry me through, aside. Doctor, your Patient is certainly Distracted, a mere Frenzy has seized him— Feel but his Pulse, ay he's fitter for his Bed than any place else; I can't commend your Judgement in suffering him to rise in this desperate Condition, let's force him back to his Chamber.  Smyr. 
If I am mad, 'tis horn mad; you'd carry me to my Chamber, that you might jye with my Wife in hers— Pray Doctor Wildman be pleased to march, I shall be able to wait upon you down, and secure the Doors after you. Be pleased to lead the way without further Ceremony— I must own 'tis uncivil, but I make bold by your own example, for I fear, you have been more so than welcome, with a certain Acquaintance of yours.  Oliv. 
'Tis as I say, Doctor, retrieve your blunder, or I am lost.  Pulse. 
Never fear it, Madam.  apart to Pulse. Wild. 
Brother Doctor, won't you assist me? The Gentleman's unruly, see how he struggles. O Sir, if you did but understand your own good you'd to go Bed, else you're a lost Man.  Smyr. 
Pulse, Pulse, Friend Pulse, I say, will you let me be murdered by this Rogue, this Villain Wildman— I'm almost strangled, help, help there, I say, I won't be carried from my Wife— Wife— Wife— Where are you? Pray Sir be satisfied, and think me Cuckold enough for the first time.  Oliv. 
O dear Husband, be persuaded and go to Bed, you look strangely wild.  Phoe. 
Ay Master, if you did but see yourself, what an altered Man your are; bless me one would not know you again.  Smyr. 
Thanks to honest Whoring, Mr. Wildman— I always thought Horns would bring a strange Alteration.  Pulse. 
Good Lord, what a Frenzy is this, to mistake a Physician for a Lover— To bed with him, by all means, and let him have some Cooling Tysans, and refreshing Juleps to allay the heat of the Distemper, perhaps a little sleep may restore him— Your Hand, Master Doctor.  Smyr. 
Nay, if you are in the same Song too, I must be mad indeed— When a man is to be made a Cuckold, nothing can prevent it— But pray, let Master Doctor with the Whoring Countenance be dismissed.  Phoe. 
He has never been well since that Rogue of a Fortune-teller bewitched him.  Pulse. 
Nay, if that be his case, it may be beyond our Art, Brother; best send for some godly Divine to Pray over him.  Oliv. 
That shall be my Care— God restore him, Doctor Pulse. Phoebe, lend your Hand, he'll struggle: But we must prevail, 'tis for his good.  Smyr. 
What's the Devil in you all? I am no more mad than any of you; only a Cuckold, and a little troubled at that Calamity; no further Frantic I profess.  Pulse. 
That's enough, of all Conscience. In, in with him.  Smyr. 
Murder, help, Murder, Murder.  They carry him off struggling. Re-enter Wildman. Wild. 
I have enough of the sport, and had much rather see Olivia return.  Enter Phoebe. Phoe. 
My Lady Sir, desires you would please to be gone; she's resolved to stay by my Master for the better quieting of him— But don't let this dishearten you, your affairs shall go better than they have done, or I'll lose my Place, and my Reputation too.  Wild. 
No, I'm at length convinced, Olivias' Virtue should be rather Cherished than Seduced, tho' I see whose ever Title we have to it, we can be no more sure of Love, than Money; 'tis not ours till we have it in Possession.  Exeunt omnes.  

SCENE II.  Lady Young Love's House. 

SONG and MUSIC.  
TO Love and all its Sweets adieu,  
To glittering Hopes, and glowing Fires;  
To Eyes that Swore she would be true,  
And yield Philander his Desires.  
Those Dear, those faithless persured Eyes,  
Those Fatal, sweet deluding things,  
The Shepherd now forgiving Dyes,  
And dying, mournfully he Sings.  
Kinder Death, than Cruel she,  
Haste, oh haste to set me free.   Enter Sir Amorous, who throws down his Hat, unbuttons his Coat, crosses his Arms, hangs down his Head, and walks despairingly; then enter Lady Young Love and Marina. L. Y. L. 
They have given us but a Melancholy Song Daughter upon our Wedding day. None here but Sir Amorous! Lord Sir, what can be the reason of this disorder? Jesus forbidden, that so handsome a young Gentleman, should have as much despair in his Heart as Person— Marina, go and bid Isabel be sure to mind what I told her.  Mar. 
Yes Madam.  
Well done Mother, get as large a share of the Sex as you can, I'll not stay to dispute your Title.  Exit. Marina. L. Y. L. 
What don't you know me Sir. Amorous— Bless me, what not answer me?  Sir Am. 
Too well Madam— I know you as the cause of all my ills, the glorious cause of my undoing.  L. Y. L. 
Lord, my mind misgave me when I heard that mournful Song.  Sir Am. 
I must confess 'twas dull, unfit for Brides, and could but dead your thoughts.  L. Y. L. 
But Sir Amorous, what is the real occasion of this Sadness?  Sir Am. 
Let me die, Madam, if your Ladyship does not ridicule my sufferings. Have you forgot what I told you last Night; that and a thousand times more lies heavy on my Heart to day; and unless you resolve to see me dead, you must not marry Mr. Wilmore—  

He a Wretch insensible of all your Charms,  
And who seeks his Happiness in another's Arms.   L. Y. L. 
He Lord, he's the Modestest Gentleman; so Civil he never pressed for the least Favour, no not for a Kiss; and that you'll says but a small one; but when he could not decently avoid it.  Sir. Am. 
A Wretch, is it possible Madam, that the Transports of a Man, when alone, with so fine a Woman— Oh Madam! Were it but permitted me— But why do I vainly meditate on any thing but Death!  L. Y. L. 
Death, Heaven forbidden: Indeed I am very sorry, I was not acquainted with you, before things came to this extremity— But as to Mr. Wilmore, he is so bashful, and so modest, Lord, you would not believe any thing else in him.  Sir Am. 
All that a Rival can say, will be suspected: But say I cleared it to you, what then shall be my reward?  L. Y. L. 
Indeed I should be furiously angry to find him so cold only to me.  Sir Am. 
If your Ladyship will let me wait upon you to the Garden, I'll clear the matter to you.  Exeunt Omnes.  

SCENE Changes to the Garden.  Wilmore, Belira, meets him. Wil 
DO you remember, our last Discourse Belira?  Bel. 
Can I ever forget any thing where you're concerned.  Wil 
Then I must tell you, I'm resolved to Marry where I best can like, not for conveniency alone, 'tis sinful, and you, and I, and all must live to die.  Bel. 
So godly, one would think your Time were come: You have forgot sure, Marina is to marry your Father.  Sir Amorous and Lady Young Love appear absconding. Wil 
She never will Belira, therefore if you have Loved, show it in this only proof, I ever asked, and let me marry her.  Bel. 
How dare you think the question, much less to ask it? I only live for you, in hopes of you; and when those hopes are gone, I've done with life, the heavy load will not be worth the bearing, the very thought has loosened it, and I want power to answer.  Wil 
No Tears Belira, we will be always Friends, your Honour shall be safe, and you my chiefest care.  Bel. 
What can pay Love, but Love? Marinas Arms will make you cold to mine; nor can I stoop, to share your hurt. O yet consider! e'er it be too late, think on the Wreck, the ruin of your Fortune, the flowing Tides of Poverty, that ruins all it covers; and lastly, think on an unhappy Wretch, whose only fault is desperate Love of you.  Wil 
I've thought on all, and nicely weighed the Sense; the consequence is this, I Love Marina, and rather than not marry her, would be undone; therefore if you can save me 'twill be Noble, and like the Love you promised.  Bel. 
What Generosity canst thou hope to find, where only injuries are given? what suffering, tame, deluded Monster dost thou think me? My Wrongs have waked that Rage, which Wonder had becalmed, and I am now prepared to dash thy hopes, and prove thee Traitor to thy Vows and me.  Wil 
Be wise Belira! We live not now in those Romantic constant days, where their first Mistress was their last. I liked you once, and still esteem you, but Vows that are made in Love, are writ in sand: It's impossible to recall a Lover's Heart, when once 'tis made a Present to another; should it return, 'twould sooner Love a third.  Bel. 
Thou needst not seek for Arguments to kill my Hopes; thus I blow them from me: Farewell for ever, both to thy Love and them; thou hast Loved me little, but thou know'st me less: Vengeance is due to thy mistake; I only live to wish, and hope to see it take your Minion: Love her as long as you are used to Love a Woman, and then let want of Wealth and Liberty pursue you: Be poorly Wretched, and Wretched Poor; and may you hate the cause as bad as I do Curse for her sake, the very name of Woman; yet think on me and sigh for such a Friend— But may no Friend be found, till scorned at home thou seekest abroad, some Wretched Death unknown.  Going to Lady Young Love, Sir Amorous meets her. L. Y. L. 
What have I heard and seen Belira? Is it possible it should be you?  Bel. 
Villain, hast thou betrayed me— Madam, I warn you from that Traitor Wilmore,  Exit Belira. L. Y. L. 
Mr. Wilmore, I am sorry I was so long your pretence, Sir Amorous. This discovery has done me mighty Service, and I am sorry I cannot express my Gratitude to you.  Wil 
I have too justly offended your Ladyship, ever to hope Forgiveness: I only beg your Anger may not fall upon Marina, she's an Innocent cause.  L. Y. L. 
The Age is quite Debauched, Jesus! who shall we trust after this? Belira naught, and with modest Mr. Wilmore, I am in such amaze, I can't recover myself.  Enter Wildman and Marina. Wild. 
What's the matter? I met Belira in a mighty rage, she ran to this Lady's Chamber with a drawn Sword? 'twas lucky I was in the way, else she had murdered her.  Mar. 
I shan't recover the fright this month! Mr. Wildman has saved my life.  Wil 
He shall always command mine for it, but what's become of her?  Mar. 
When she saw herself Defeated, she sent for a Chair, and went away in it; I have not yet troubled myself to know where.  L. Y. L. 
No 'tis no matter, since my House is rid of her. I shall take care who I entertain a good opinion of again.  Wild. 
Prithee Wilmore, no Chagrin. This was my Plot, I durst not trust thee with it; and therefore advised thee to meet her in the Garden, I knew thy soft Nature, would not suffer thee, to Expose an ill Woman, tho' to make thyself happy in a good.  Wil 
If you had, 'twould never have come to this; my Pity is due to an unhappy Woman, who had never been such, if She had not known me.  Wild. 
You'll make Marina Jealous,  Wil 
I hope not, she would not have me Barbarous:  Enter Sir Rustic Good-heart. Sir Rus. 
Where are ye all? Before George the Canonical hour will be past; yonder's the other Young Gentlewoman gone away Distracted.  Wild. 
Sir Rustic, here's a new Scene of Affairs; Marina Swears, She has more mind to be your Daughter, than your Wife; and that 'tis better to Drink Caudle by a young Fellow, than be obliged to make it for an Old.  Sir Rus. 
Be-gad, I don't believe a word of this: You are not of his mind Sweetheart, Mr. Priest-Craft is ready to spoil your sport Sir, and begin ours.  L. Y. L. 
Indeed Sir Amorous, you have convinced me of the reality of your Passion, and were it not for the talk of the Town, you should find me, not so insensible as you imagine.  Sir Am. 
Let me be nothing Madam, if this unexpected Marriage will not put them all out of Countenance, and balk their Spleen; they are prepared by Mr. Wilmore's concern for your Daughter, to laugh at your Ladyship. No Wedding— Let me expire, if it would not be a good way, to prevent his refusal by yours, and before he asks you to make him happy with Marina, to make me so in yourself.  L. Y. L. 
'Twere a good Jest indeed, I think we must not spoil the Conceit— But then, Sir Amorous, will you be constant?  Sir Am. 
As your own Charms, which can never admit of a Decay.  L. Y. L. 
Indeed, Sir Amorous, I have Compassion upon your Sufferings, and a just Resentment of Mr. Wilmore's Ingratitude: Therefore, Sir Amorous— but Lord! what was I going to say?— Jesus!— will not you think me quickly won?— But indeed, my Charity to you is the chief Inducement; therefore to morrow, Sir Amorous, if you please—  Sir Am. 
To morrow will not prevent Mr. Wilmore: Give me leave to declare my Happiness, and to hope you will immediately confirm it within.  L. Y. L. 
Lard, Sir Amorous, you overcome me every way; I leave it to your Discretion.  Sir Rus. 
Before George, not I Good Mr. Son, no coguing nor dissembling with me: I love the Lady myself, and have her I will, or some shall smart for it. My Lady Young Love, here's Felony, Conspiracy, and Treason against you; they would cheat me of my Wife, and you of your Husband.  L. Y. L. 
That they will hardly be able to do; I have made my Choice, Sir Amorous can tell you.  Sir Rus. 
hay day! Here's fine juggling indeed! Before George, I don't understand these London Contrivances. Shall I have your Daughter?  L. Y. L. 
Sir Amorous, you rule me. Marina, I have too long, won by Bellaria's Pretences, denied you the Affection of a Mother; but I'll make amends for all, and leave you the Liberty of your Choice.  Sir Rus. 
Nay then, before George, 'tis still well enough— Give me thy Hand, sweet Mistress, 'tis a Match, Bedad.  Mar. 
I am afraid, Sir, you'll find me good for little, but to bring the Addition of Jealousy to the rest of your Distempers.  Sir Rus. 
That is in plain English, Madam, that you would make me a Cuckold— Would you so?— Nay, like enough Bedad— Your Eyes have a plaguy Lear that way— hay! [calls within there] Bid Ralph saddle the Horses, and bring my Boots; I'll not stay to see the end on't.  Exit Sir Rus. Wild. 
No matter, let him go; as I take it, he has Signed. Wilmore, thou hast nothing to do now, but to make thy Claim.  Wil 
I have so true a Sense of my Villainy to this Lady, that I dare not address for Pardon, much more the unvaluable Blessing of her Daughter.  L. Y. L. 
Sir Amorous has prevailed for you, Sir. I forgive you, and have left Marina the Liberty of her Choice. But might I persuade her, it should not be Belira's Lover, he has too many Faults.  Mar. 
I'll take them all upon myself; and if your Ladyship would consent, I should not think myself unhappy with Mr. Wilmore.  Wild. 
'Twill be generous, like yourself, Madam; and show the Town, the little Concern you have for Mr. Wilmore.  Sir Am. 
Let me expire, Madam, if I can cease my Entreaties.  L. Y. L. 
You command me, Sir Amorous. Take her, Mr. Wilmore; and if possible, make amends for your Faults to me.  Wil 
This Goodness confounds me more— My whole Life shall be one constant Study to deserve your Generosity, and Marina's Kindness.  Wild. 
Why so? matters are brought to Perfection. I find I am a Master in the Art. But, Begad, Pimping here, I have ruined my own Affairs with Orinda. Will she not be at the Wedding?  Mar. 
She keeps her Bed very ill, and has sent an Excuse; but I believe, Belira's Absence will be the best Spell to draw her thence.  Wild. 
That shall be my business, after the Chaplain has done his: I'll visit, and persuade her to come and wish you Joy.  Wil 
I am impatient till you have the occasion. Sir Amorous, lead the way with your Bride.  Wild. 
I think Fortune has not one other Trick to disappoint you with; but 'tis best to take her when she's obliging, for such all People that are going to be married think her.  

But Time will show the Cheat, and you shall find  
The Goddess is as fickle as she's kind.   
FINIS.     

Hales' Contemplations in three Parts, the third Part never before Printed; to which is added his Life, by Gilbert Lord Bishop of Sarum.  
The whole Works of that Excellent Practical Physician, Dr. Thomas Sydenham; wherein, not only the History and Cure of Acute Diseases are Treated of, after a new and Accurate Method, but also the shortest and safest way of Curing most Chronical Diseases. Translated from the Original Latin; by John Pechey, at the College of Physicians.  
Mrs. Behns' Novels, are this day Published.  
All three are Sold by R. Wellington at the Lute in St. Paul's Churchyard.   

THE Artificial Clock-maker. A Treatise of Watch, and Clockwork: Wherein the Art of Calculating Numbers for most sorts of Movements, is explained to the capacity of the Unlearned. Also the History of Clockwork, both Ancient and Modern. With other useful matters never before Published. By W. D. M. A. Printed for James Knapton at the Crown in St. Paul's Churchyard, 1696.