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Trade. Oh! pox of the name! what! have tricked me, too, Mr Freeman?

you

Col. Tricked, Mr Tradelove! did not I give you two thousand pounds for your consent fairly? And, now, do you tell a gentleman he has tricked you?

Per. So, so, you are a pretty guardian, faith, to sell your charge! what! did you look upon her as part of your stock?

Oba. Prim. Ha, ha, ha! I am glad thy knavery is found out, however I confess the maiden over-reached me, and I had no sinister end at

all.

Per. I am certain I read as plain a lease as ever I read in my life. Col. You read a lease, I grant you; but you signed this contract. [Shewing a paper.

Per. How durst you put this trick upon me, Mr Freeman? Did not you tell me my uncle was dying?

Free. And would tell you twice as much to serve my friend-ha, ha!

Sir Phi. What! the learned and famous Mr Periwinkle choused, too!--Ha, ha, ha!—I shall die with laughing--ha, ha, ha!

Oba. Prim. It had been well if her father had left her to wiser heads than thine and mine, friends-ha, ha, ha!

Trade. Well, since you have outwitted us all, pray you, what and who are you, sir?

Sir Phi. Sir, the gentleman is a fine gentleman.- -I am glad you have got a person, madam, who understands dress and good-breeding. I was resolved she should have a husband of my

Oba. Prim. I am sorry the maiden has fallen into such hands.

Per. Ay, ay, one thing or other over-reached you all—but I'll take care he shall never finger a penny of her money, I warrant you-Over-reach-choosing. ed, quoth'a! Why, I might have been over-reached, too, if I had had no more wit: I don't know but this very fellow may be him that was directed to me from Grand Cairo t'other day. Ha, ha, ha!

Col. The very same.

Per. Are you so, sir? but your trick would not pass upon me.

Col. No, as you say, at that time it did not; that was not my lucky hour-but, hark ye, sir, I must let you into one secret-you may keep honest John Tradescant's coat on, for your uncle sir Toby Periwinkle is not dead-so the charge of mourning will be saved-ha, ha, ha! Don't you remember Mr Pillage, your uncle's steward? Ha, ha, ha!

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Trade. A beau! nay, then, she is finely helped up.

Mrs Love. Why, beaux are great encouragers of trade, sir. Ha, ha, ha!

Col. Look ye, gentlemen; I am the person who can give the best account of myself; and I must beg sir Philip's pardon, when I tell him, that I have as much aversion to what he calls dress and breeding, as I have to the enemies of my religion. I have had the honour to serve his majesty, and headed a regiment of the bravest fellows that ever pushed bayonet in the throat of a Frenchman; and, notwithstanding the fortune this lady brings me, whenever my country wants my aid, this sword and arm are at her service.

Therefore, my dear, if thou'lt but deign to smile,
I meet a recompense for all my toil.
Love and religion ne'er admit restraint,
And force makes many sinners, not one saint;
Still free as air the active mind does rove,
And searches proper objects for its love;
But that once fixed, 'tis past the power of art
To chase the dear idea from the heart:
'Tis liberty of choice that sweetens life,
Makes the glad husband, and the happy wife.
[Exeunt omnes.

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SCENE I-SIR JOHN BEVIL's house. Enter SIR JOHN BEVIL and HUMPHREY. Sir J. Bev. Have you ordered that I should not be interrupted while I am dressing?

Humph. Yes, sir; I believed you had something of moment to say to me.

Sir J. Bev. Let me see, Humphrey; I think it is now full forty years, since I first took thee to be about myself.

Humph. I think, sir, it has been an easy forty years; and I have passed them without much sickness, care, or labour.

Sir J. Bev. Thou hast a brave constitution: you are a year or two older than I am, sirrah. Humph. You have ever been of that mind, sir. Sir J. Bev. You knave, you know it; I took

thee for thy gravity and sobriety in my wild

years.

Humph. Ah, sir! our manners were formed from our different fortunes, not our different ages; wealth gave a loose to your youth, and poverty put a restraint upon mine.

Sir J. Bev. Well, Humphrey, you know I have been a kind master to you; I have used you, for the ingenuous nature I observed in you from the beginning, more like an humble friend than a servant.

Humph. I humbly beg you'll be so tender of me, as to explain your commands, sir, without any farther preparation.

Sir J. Bev. I'll tell thee, then. In the first place, this wedding of my son's, in all probability (shut the door) will never be at all.

Humph. How, sir, not be at all! for what rea- | my mask; with that the gentleman, throwing off son is it carried on in appearance?

Sir J. Bev. Honest Humphrey, have patience, and I'll tell thee all in order. I have myself, in some part of my life, lived, indeed, with freedom, but I hope without reproach. Now, I thought liberty would be as little injurious to my son : therefore, as soon as he grew towards man, I indulged him in living after his own manner. I know not how otherwise to judge of his inclination; for what can be concluded from a behaviour under restraint and fear? But what charms me above all expression, is, that my son has never, in the least action, the most distant hint or word, valued himself upon that great estate of his mother's, which, according to our marriagesettlement, he has had ever since he came to age.

Humph. No, sir; on the contrary, he seems afraid of appearing to enjoy it before you or any belonging to you. He is as dependent and resigned to your will, as if he had not a farthing but what must come from your immediate bounty. You have ever acted like a good and generous father, and he like an obedient and grateful son.

his own, appeared to be my son, and, in his concern for me, tore off that of the nobleman: at this they seized each other, the company called the guards, and, in the surprize, the lady swooned away: upon which my son quitted his adversary, and had now no care but of the lady-when raising her in his arms, ' Art thou gone,' cried he, for ever?-forbid it, Heaven!'-She revives at his known voice-and, with the most familiar, though modest gesture, hangs in safety over his shoulders, weeping, but wept as in the arms of one before whom she could give herself a loose, were she not under observation: while she hides her face in his neck, he carefully conveys her from the company.

Humph. I have observed this accident has dwelt

upon you very strongly.

Sir J. Bev. Her uncommon air, her noble modesty, the dignity of her person, and the occasion itself, drew the whole assembly together; and I soon heard it buzzed about she was the adopted daughter of a famous sea-officer, who had served in France. Now, this unexpected and public discovery of my son's so deep concern for her

Humph. Was what, I suppose, alarmed Mr Sealand, in behalf of his daughter, to break off the match?

Sir J. Bev. Nay, his carriage is so easy to all with whom he converses, that he is never assuming, never prefers himself to others, nor is ever guilty of that rough sincerity which a man is not Sir J. Bev. You are right---he came to me yescalled to, and certainly disobliges most of his ac- terday, and said, he thought himself disengaged quaintance. To be short, Humphrey, his reputa-from the bargain, being credibly informed my son tion was so fair in the world, that old Sealand, the great India merchant, has offered his only daughter, and sole heiress to that vast estate of his, as a wife for him. You may be sure I made no difficulties; the match was agreed on, and this very day named for the wedding.

Humph. What hinders the proceeding? Sir J. Bev. Don't interrupt me. You know I was, last Thursday, at the masquerade; my son, you may remember, soon found us out-he knew his grandfather's habit, which I then wore; and though it was in the mode in the last age, yet the maskers, you know, followed us, as if we had been the most monstrous figures in that whole assembly.

Humph. I remember, indeed, a young man of quality, in the habit of a clown, that was particuJarly troublesome.

Sir J. Bev. Right-he was too much what he seemed to be. You remember how impertinently he followed and teased us, and would know who

we were.

Humph. I know he has a mind to come into that particular.

was already married, or worse, to the lady at the masquerade. I palliated matters, and insisted on our agreement; but we parted with little less than a direct breach between us.

Humph. Well, sir, and what notice have you taken of all this to my young master?

Sir J. Bev. That's what I wanted to debate with you---I have said nothing to him yet-But look ye, Humphrey, if there is so much in this amour of his, that he denies, upon my summons, to marry, I have cause enough to be offended; and then, by my insisting upon his marrying today, I shall know how far he is engaged to this lady in masquerade, and from thence only shall be able to take my measures; in the mean time, I would have you find out how far that rogue, his man, is let into his secret-he, I know, will play tricks as much to cross me as to serve his master.

Humph. Why do you think so of him, sir? I believe he is no worse than I was for you at your son's age.

Sir J. Bev. I see it in the rascal's looks. But [Aside. I have dwelt on these things too long: I'll go to Sir J. Bev. Ay, he followed us, till the gentle- my son immediately, and, while I'm gone, your man, who led the lady in the Indian mantle, pre-part is to convince his rogue, Tom, that I am in sented that gay creature to the rustic, and bid earnest. I'll leave him to you. him (like Cymon in the fable) grow polite, by falling in love, and let that worthy old gentleman alone, meaning me. The clown was not reformed, but rudely persisted, and offered to force off

[Exit SIR J. BEV. Humph. Well, though this father and son live as well together as possible, yet their fear of giving each other pain is attended with constant

mutual uneasiness. I am sure I have enough to do to be honest, and yet keep well with them both; but they know I love them, and that makes the task less painful, however. Oh, here's the prince of poor coxcombs, the representative of all the better fed than taught! Ho, ho, Tom! whither so gay and so airy this morning?

Enter Tom, singing.

Tom. Sir, we servants of single gentlemen are another kind of people than you domestic ordinary drudges that do business; we are raised above you: the pleasures of board-wages, taverndinners, and many a clear gain, vails, alas! you never heard or dreamt of.

Humph. Thou hast follies and vices enough for a man of ten thousand a-year, though it is but as t'other day that I sent for you to town, to put you into Mr Sealand's family, that you might learn a little before I put you to my young master, who is too gentle for training such a rude thing as you were into proper obedience. You then pulled off your hat to every one you met in the street, like a bashful, great, awkward cub, as you were. But your great oaken cudgel, when you were a booby, became you much better than that dangling stick at your button, now you are a fop, that's fit for nothing except it hangs there | to be ready for your master's hand when you are impertinent.

Tom. Uncle Humphrey, you know my master scorns to strike his servants; you talk as if the world was now just as it was when my old master and you were in your youth——when you went to dinner because it was so much a clock, when the great blow was given in the hall at the pantry-door, and all the family came out of their holes, in such strange dresses, and formal faces, as you see in the pictures in our long gallery in the country.

Humph. Why, you wild rogue!

Tom. You could not fall to your dinner, till a formal fellow, in a black gown, said something over the meat, as if the cook had not made it ready enough.

Humph. Sirrah, who do you prate after?despising men of sacred characters! I hope you never heard my young master talk so like a profligate!

Tom. I don't know what you heavy inmates call noise and extravagance; but we gentlemen, who are well fed, and cut a figure, sir, think it a fine life, and that we must be very pretty fellows, who are kept only to be looked at.

Humph. Very well, sir-I hope the fashion of being lewd and extravagant, despising of decency and order, is almost at an end, since it is arrived at persons of your quality.

Tom. Master Humphrey, ha, ha! you were an unhappy lad to be sent up to town in such queer days as you were. Why now, sir, the lacquies are the men of pleasure of the age; the top gamesters; and many a laced coat about town, have had their education in our party-coloured regiment. We are false lovers, have a taste of music, poetry, billet-doux, dress, politics, ruin damsels; and when we are weary of this lewd town, and have a mind to take up, whip into our masters' wigs and linen, and marry fortunes. Humph. Hey day!

Tom. Nay, sir, our order is carried up to the highest dignities and distinctions: step but into the Painted Chamber-and, by our titles, you'd take us all for men of quality-then, again, come down to the Court of Requests, and you shall see us all laying our broken heads together, for the good of the nation; and though we never carry a question nemine contradicente, yet this I can say with a safe conscience, (and I wish every gentleman of our cloth could lay his hand upon his heart, and say the same) that I never took so much as a single mug of beer for my vote in all my life.

Humph. Sirrah, there is no enduring your extravagance; I'll hear you prate no longer: I wanted to see you to inquire how things go with your master, as far as you understand them: I suppose he knows he is to be married to-day?

Tom. Ay, sir, he knows it, and is dressed as gay as the sun; but, between you and I, my dear! he has a very heavy heart under all that gaiety. As soon as he was dressed, I retired, but overheard him sigh in the most heavy manner. He walked thoughtfully to and fro in the room, then went into his closet: when he came out, he gave me this for his mistress, whose maid you know

Humph. Is passionately fond of your fine per

son.

Tom. The poor fool is so tender, and loves to Tom. Sir, I say you put upon me when I first hear me talk of the world, and the plays, operas, came to town about being orderly, and the doc-and ridottees for the winter, the Parks and Belltrine of wearing shams to make linen last clean size for our summer diversions; and lard! says a fortnight, keeping my clothes fresh, and wear- she, you are so wild--but you have a world of ing a frock within doors. humour.

Humph. Sirrah, I gave you those lessons, because I supposed, at that time, your master and you might have dined at home every day, and cost you nothing; then you might have made you a good family servant; but the gang you have frequented since at chocolate-houses and taverns, in a continual round of noise and extravagance VOL. II.

Humph. Coxcomb! Well, but why don't you run with your master's letter to Mrs Lucinda, as he ordered you?

Tom. Because Mrs Lucinda is not so easily come at as you think for.

Humph. Not easily come at! why, sir, are not her father and my old ma-ter agreed that she and 4 I

Mr Bevil are to be one flesh before to-morrow morning?

Tom. It's no matter for that: her mother, it seems, Mrs Sealand, has not agreed to it; and you must know, Mr Humphrey, that, in that family, the grey mare is the better horse.

Humph. What dost thou mean?

Tom. In one word, Mrs Sealand pretends to have a will of her own, and has provided a relation of hers, a stiff starched philosopher, and a wise fool, for her daughter; for which reason, for these ten days past, she has suffered no message nor letter from my master to come near her. Humph. And where had you this intelligence? Tom. From a foolish fond soul, that can keep nothing from meone that will deliver this letter, too, if she is rightly managed.

Humph. What, her pretty handmaid, Mrs Phillis?

Tom. Even she, sir. This is the very hour, you know, she usually comes hither, under a pretence of a visit to our housekeeper forsooth, but in reality to have a glance at

Humph. Your sweet face, I warrant you. Tom. Nothing else in nature. You must know, I love to fret and play with the little

wanton

Humph. Play with the little wanton! what will this world come to !

Tom. I met her this morning in a new manteau and petticoat, not a bit the worse for her lady's wearing; and she has always new thoughts and new airs with new clothes- -then, she never fails to steal some glance or gesture from every visitant at their house, and is indeed the whole town of coquettes at secondhand.But here she comes; in one motion she speaks and describes herself better than all the words in the world can.

Humph. Then I hope, dear sir! when your own affair is over, you will be so good as to mind your master's with her.

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Tom. Dear Humphrey you know my master is my friend, and those are people I never forget

Humph. Sauciness itself! but I'll leave you to do your best for him. [Exit.

Enter PHILLIS.

slide, to be short-sighted, or stare, to fleer in the face, to look distant, to observe, to overlook, yet all become me; and if I were rich, I could twire and loll as well as the best of them. Oh Tom, Tom! is it not a pity that you should be so great a coxcomb, and I so great a coquette, and yet be such poor devils as we are?

Tom. Mrs Phillis, I am your humble servant for that

Phil. Yes, Mr Thomas, I know how much you are my humble servant, and know what you said to Mrs Judy, upon seeing her in one of her lady's cast manteaus, that any one would have thought her the lady, and that she had ordered the other to wear it till it sat easy--for now only it was becoming-to my lady it was only a covering, to Mrs Judy it was a habit. This you said after somebody or other. Oh Tom, Tom! thou art as false and as base as the best gentleman of them all but, you wretch! talk to me no more on the old odious subject: don't, I say.

Tom. I know not how to resist your commands, madam. [In a submissive tone, retiring. Phil. Commands about parting are grown mighty easy to you of late.

Tom. Oh, I have her! I have nettled and put her into the right temper to be wrought upon and set a-prating. [Aside.]—Why, truly, to be plain with you, Mrs Phillis, I can take little comfort of late in frequenting your house.

Phil. Pray, Mr Thomas, what is it, all of a sudden, offends your nicety at our house? Tom. I don't care to speak particulars, but I dislike the whole.

Phil. I thank you, sir; I am a part of that whole.

Tom. Mistake me not, good Phillis.
Phil. Good Phillis! saucy enough. But how-

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Phil. Don't think to put that upon me. You say this, because I wrung you to the heart when I touched your guilty conscience about Judy.

Tom. Ah, Phillis, Phillis! if you but knew my

heart!

Phil. Oh, Mr Thomas, is Mrs Sugarkey at home?---Lard! one is almost ashamed to pass along the streets. The town is quite empty, and nobody of fashion left in it; and the ordinary people do so stare to see any thing dressed like a woman of condition, as it were on the same floor with them, pass by. Alas! alas! Tom. Nay, then, poor Crispo's fate and mine it is a sad thing to walk! O fortune, fortune !— | are- -therefore, give me leave to say, or Tom. What! a sad thing to walk! why, sing at least, as he does upon the same occamadam Phillis, do you wish yourself lame?

Phil. No, Mr Thomas, but I wish I were generally carried in a coach or chair, and of a fortune neither to stand nor go, but to totter, or

Phil. I know too much on't.

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