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Lady Lurewell-Ah, Sir Harry! I've been almost ruined, pestered to death here, by the incessant attacks of a mighty colonel; he has besieged me as close as our army did Namur.

Sir Harry-I hope your ladyship did not surrender, though?

Lady Lurewell-No, no, but was forced to capitulate; but since you are come to raise the siege, we'll dance, and sing, and laugh.

bre.

Sir Harry-And love and kiss. - Montrez-moi votre cham

Lady Lurewell— Attende, attende, un peu. I remember, Sir Harry, you promised me in Paris never to ask that impertinent question again.

Sir Harry-Psha, madam, that was above two months ago; besides, madam, treaties made in France are never kept. Lady Lurewell - Would you marry me, Sir Harry?

Sir Harry-Oh!-Le mariage est un grand mal — but I will marry you.

Lady Lurewell-Your word, sir, is not to be relied on: if a gentleman will forfeit his honor in dealings of business, we may reasonably suspect his fidelity in an amour.

Sir Harry - My honor in dealings of business! why, madam, I never had any business in all my life.

Lady Lurewell - Yes, Sir Harry, I have heard a very odd story, and am sorry that a gentleman of your figure should undergo the scandal.

Sir Harry-Out with it, madam.

Lady Lurewell - Why, the merchant, sir, that transmitted your bills of exchange to you in France, complains of some indirect and dishonorable dealings.

Sir Harry-Who, old Smuggler?

Lady Lurewell— Aye, aye, you know him, I find.

Sir Harry-I have no less than reason, I think: why, the rogue has cheated me of above five hundred pound within these three years.

Lady Lurewell - 'Tis your business then to acquit yourself publicly; for he spreads the scandal everywhere.

Sir Harry-Acquit myself publicly!-[To Footman.] Here, sirrah, my coach; I'll drive instantly into the city, and cane the old villain round the Royal Exchange; he shall run the gantlet through a thousand brush-beavers and formal

cravats.

in

Lady Lurewell— Why, he is in the house now, sir.
Sir Harry-What, in this house?

Lady Lurewell — Aye, in the next room.

Sir Harry - Then, sirrah, lend me your cudgel.

Lady Lurewell—Sir Harry, you won't raise a disturbance my house?

Sir Harry-Disturbance, madam! no, no, I'll beat him with the temper of a philosopher. Here Mrs. Parly, show me the gentleman. [Exit with PARLY and Footman.

-

Lady Lurewell - Now shall I get the old monster well beaten, and Sir Harry pestered next term with bloodsheds, batteries, costs and damages, solicitors and attorneys; and if they don't tease him out of his good humor, I'll never plot again.

[Exit.

Scene: Another Room in the same. ALDERMAN SMUGGLER alone.

Smuggler-Oh, this damned tidewaiter! A ship and cargo worth five thousand pound! Why, 'tis richly worth five hundred perjuries.

Enter SIR HARRY WILDAIR.

Sir Harry Dear Mr. Alderman, I'm your most devoted and humble servant.

Smuggler-My best friend, Sir Harry, you're welcome to

England.

Sir Harry - I'll assure you, sir, there's not a man in the king's dominions I'm gladder to meet.

Smuggler - O Lord, sir, you travelers have the most oblig ing ways with you!

Sir Harry-There is a business, Mr. Alderman, fallen out, which you may oblige me infinitely by-I am very sorry that I am forced to be troublesome; but necessity, Mr. Alder

man.

Smuggler-Aye, sir, as you say, necessity- but upon my word, sir, I am very short of money, at present, but —

Sir Harry - That's not the matter, sir. I'm above an obligation that way; but the business is, I am reduced to an indispensable necessity of being obliged to you for a beating. Here, take this cudgel.

Smuggler-A beating, Sir Harry! ha ha ha! I beat a knight baronet ! an alderman turned cudgel-player! ha!

ha ha!

Sir Harry- Upon my word, sir, you must beat me, or I cudgel you; take your choice.

Smuggler-Psha, psha, you jest!

Sir Harry - Nay, 'tis as sure as fate: so, alderman, I hope you'll pardon my curiosity. [Strikes him. Smuggler-Curiosity! deuce take your curiosity, sir! what

d'ye mean?

Sir Harry-Nothing at all: I'm but in jest, sir.

Smuggler - Oh, I can take anything in jest; but a man might imagine by the smartness of the stroke that you were in downright earnest.

Sir Harry-Not in the least, sir. the least, indeed, sir!

[Strikes him.] Not in

Smuggler-Pray, good sir, no more of your jests; for they are the bluntest jests that I ever knew.

Sir Harry [strikes]-I heartily beg your pardon, with all my heart, sir.

Smuggler-Pardon, sir! well, sir, that is satisfaction enough from a gentleman; but seriously now, if you pass any more of your jests upon me I shall grow angry.

Sir Harry-I humbly beg your permission to break one or two more. [Striking him. Smuggler-O Lord, sir, you'll break my bones! Are you Murder! felony! manslaughter!

mad, sir?

[SIR HARRY knocks him down. Sir Harry-Sir, I beg you ten thousand pardons; but I am absolutely compelled to't. Upon my honor, sir, nothing can be more averse to my inclinations than to jest with my honest, dear, loving, obliging friend, the alderman.

[Striking him all this while, SMUGGLER tumbles over and over, and shakes out his pocket-book on the floor.

Enter LADY LUREWELL.

Lady Lurewell [Aside]-The old rogue's pocket-book; this may be of use. [Takes it up.]-O Lord, Sir Harry's murdering the poor old man!

Smuggler—Oh, dear madam, I was beaten in jest till I am murdered in good earnest.

Lady Lurewell-Well, well, I'll bring you off. [To SIR HARRY.] Seigneur, frappez, frappez!

Smuggler-Oh, for charity's sake, madam, rescue a poor

citizen!

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Lady Lurewell—Oh, you barbarous man! hold, hold! Frappez plus rudement, frappez! I wonder you are not ashamed![Holding SIR HARRY.] A poor, reverend, honest elder! [Helps SMUGGLER up.] It makes me weep to see him in this condition, poor man! Now the devil take you, Sir Harry, for not beating him harder! [To SMUGGLER.] Well, my dear, you shall come at night, and I'll make you amends! [Here SIR HARRY takes snuff. Smuggler-Madam, I will have amends before I leave the place. Sir, how durst you use me thus? Sir Harry - Sir!

eyes.

Smuggler-Sir, I say that I will have satisfaction!

Sir Harry - With all my heart! [Throws snuff into his

Smuggler -Oh, murder! blindness! fire! Oh, madam, madam! get me some water! water! fire! fire! water!

[Exit with LADY LUREWELL. Sir Harry-How pleasant is resenting an injury without passion! 'Tis the beauty of revenge!

Let statesmen plot, and under business groan,

And settling public quiet lose their own:

Let soldiers drudge and fight for pay or fame,

For when they're shot I think 'tis much the same.
Let scholars vex their brains with mood and tense,
And mad with strength of reason,
fools commence,
Losing their wits in searching after sense;
Their summum bonum they must toil to gain,
And seeking pleasure, spend their life in pain.
I make the most of life, no hour misspend,
Pleasure's the means, and pleasure is my end.

spleen, no trouble, shall my time destroy;
Life's but a span, I'll every inch enjoy.

[Exit

THE CAPTURE OF MILLAMANT.

BY WILLIAM CONGREVE.

(From "The Way of the World.")

[WILLIAM CONGREVE, one of the foremost English comedy writers, was born near Leeds in 1670. His father becoming an officer in Ireland, he was educated with Swift at Kilkenny, and at Trinity College, Dublin. After studying law a little, he turned to literature; wrote a boyish novel, "Incognita"; and then within seven years produced four comedies and a tragedy which have immortalized him, "The Old Bachelor" and "The Double Dealer" (1693), "Love for Love" (1695), "The Mourning Bride" (1697), and "The Way of the World" (1700). The failure of the latter, now reckoned his best, and one of the masterpieces of modern English comedy, so disgusted him that he wrote no more except a few verses, his sinecures enabling him to live without work. He wrote in 1698 a weak reply to Collier's "Short View"; his real reply - and confession was "The Way of the World." He died in 1729.]

SCENE: A Chocolate House.

Mirabell

MIRABELL and FAINALL rising

from cards, BETTY waiting.

You are a fortunate man, Mr. Fainall! Fainall-Have we done?

Mirabell-What you please: I'll play on to entertain you. Fainall-No, I'll give you your revenge another time, when you are not so indifferent; you are thinking of something else now, and play too negligently; the coldness of a losing gamester lessens the pleasure of the winner. I'd no more play with a man that slighted his ill fortune than I'd make love to a woman who undervalued the loss of her reputation.

Mirabell-You have a taste extremely delicate, and are for refining on your pleasures.

Fainall-Prithee, why so reserved? Something has put you out of humor.

Mirabell - Not at all: I happen to be grave to-day, and you are gay; that's all.

Fainall-Confess, Millamant and you quarreled last night after I left you; my fair cousin has some humors that would tempt the patience of a Stoic. What, some coxcomb came in, and was well received by her, while you were by?

Mirabell-Witwoud and Petulant; and what was worse, her aunt, your wife's mother, my evil genius or to sum up all in her own name, my old Lady Wishfort came in.

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Fainall Oh, there it is, then! She has a lasting passion for you, and with reason. What, then my wife was there?

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