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ACT I.

SCENE I.-Ranger's Chambers in the Temple. A knocking is heard at the door for some time; when RANGER enters, having let himself in.

Ran. Once more I am got safe to the Temple. Let me reflect a little. I have sat up all night; I have my head full of bad wine, and the noise of oaths, dice, and the d-d tingling of tavern bells; my spirits jaded, and my eyes sunk in my head; and all this for the conversation of a company of fellows I despise. Their wit lies only in obscenity, their mirth in noise, and their delight in a box and dice Honest Ranger, take my word for it, thou art a mighty silly fellow.

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Tell me no more, I am deceiv'd,
That Chloe's false and common;
By heav'n I all along believ'd,
She was a very woman.

As such I lik'd, as such caress'd;

She still was constant when possess'd:
She could do more for no man.

Honest Congreve was a man after my own heart.

Enter Servant.

Have you been for the money this morning, as I ordered you?

Serv. No, sir; you bade me go before you was up; I did not know your honour meant before you went to bed.

Ran. None of your jokes, I pray; but to business. Go to the coffee-house, and inquire if there has been any letter or message left for me. Serv. I shall, sir.

Ran. (Reads.) You think she's false, I'm sure she's kind,

I take her body, you her mind; Which has the better bargain? Oh! that I had such a soft deceitful fair to lull my senses to their desired sleep. (Knocking at the door.) Come in.

Enter SIMON.

Oh! master Simon, is it you? How long have you been in town?

Sim. Just come, sir, and but for a little time

either; and yet I have as many messages as if we were to stay the whole year round. Here they are, all of them. (Pulls out a number of cards.) And among them, one for your honour.

Ran. (Reads.) "Clarinda's compliments to her cousin Ranger, and should be glad to see him for ever so little a time that he can be spared from the more weighty business of the law." Ha, ha, ha! the same merry girl I ever knew her.

Sim. My lady is never sad, sir. (Knocking at the door.)

Ran. Pr'ythee, Simon, open the door.
Enter Milliner.

Well, child, and who are you?

Mil. Sir, my mistress gives her service to you, and has sent you home the linen you bespoke.

Ran. Well, Simon, my service to your lady, and let her know I will most certainly wait upon her. I am a little busy, Simon, and so

Sim. Ah! you're a wag, master Ranger, you're a wag: but mum for that. [Exit. Ran. I swear, my dear, you have the prettiest pair of eyes; the loveliest poating lips-I never saw you before.

Mil. No, sir! I was always in the shop.

Ran. Were you so? Well, and what does your mistress say? The devil fetch me, child, you looked so prettily that I could not mind one word

you said.

Mil. Lard, sir! you are such another gentleman! Why, she says, she is sorry she could not send them sooner. Shall I lay them down?

Ran. No, child; give them to me. Dear, little, smiling angel-(Catches and kisses her.)

Mil. I beg, sir, you would be civil.

Ran. Civil? Egad! I think I am very civil. (Kisses her again.)

Re-enter Servant with BELLAMY.

[Exit.

Serv. Sir, Mr. Bellamy. Ran. D-n your impertinence! (Aside.) Oh! Mr. Bellamy, your servant.

Mil. What shall I say to my mistress?

Ran. Bid her make half-a-dozen more; but be sure you bring them home yourself. [Exit Mil.] Psha! pox! Mr. Bellamy, how should you like to be served so yourself?

Bel. How can you, Ranger, for a minute's pleasure, give an innocent girl the pain of heart I am confident she felt? There was a modest blush upon her cheek convinces me she is honest.

Ran. May be so. I was resolved to try, however, had not you interrupted the experiment.

Bel. Fie, Ranger! will you never think?

Ran. Yes, but I can't be always a thinking. The law is a d-nable dry study, Mr. Bellamy, and without something now and then to amuse and relax, it would be too much for my brain, mise ye; but am grown a mighty sober fellow. Here have I been at it these three hours, but the wenches will never let me alone.

Frank. You know, Ranger, I want no inducement to be with you. But, you look sadly. What -no merciless jade has-has she?

Ran. No, no; sound as a roach, my lad, I only got a little too much liquor last night, which I have not slept off yet.

Bel. Thus, Frankly, it is every day. All the morning his head aches; at noon he begins to clear up; towards evening he is good company; and all night he is carefully providing for the same course the next day.

Ran. Why, I must own, my ghostly father, I did relapse a little last night, just to furnish out a decent confession for the day.

Frank. And he is now doing penance for it. desire more. Were you his confessor, indeed, you could not well

Ran. Charles, he sets up for a confessor with the worst grace in the world. Here has he been reproving me for being but decently civil to my constitution makes him insensible of a fine woman's milliner. Plague! because the coldness of his charms, everybody else must be so too.

Bel. I am no less sensible of their charms than you are, though I cannot kiss every woman I meet, or fall in love, as you call it, with every face which has the bloom of youth upon it. I would only have you a little more frugal of your pleasures.

Frank. My dear friend, this is very pretty talking! but let me tell you, it is in the power of the very first glance from a fine woman utterly to disconcert all your philosophy.

Bel. It must be from a fine woman, then, and not such as are generally reputed so. And it must be a thorough acquaintance with her too, that will ever make an impression on my heart.

Ran. Would I could see it once! for when a man has been all his life hoarding up a stock, without allowing himself common necessaries, it tickles me to the soul to see him lay it all out upon a wrong bottom, and become bankrupt at last.

Bel. Well, I don't care how soon you see it. For the minute I find a woman capable of friendship, love, and tenderness, with good sense enough to be always easy, and good nature enough to like me, I will immediately put it to the trial, which of us shall have the greatest share of happiness from the sex, you or I.

Ran. By marrying her, I suppose? Capable of friendship, love, and tenderness! ha, ha, ha! that a man of your sense should talk so. If she be capable of love, 'tis all I require of my mistress; and as every woman, who is young, is capable of love, I am very reasonably in love with every young woman I meet. My lord Coke, in a case I read this morning, speaks my sense.

Bel. & Frank. My lord Coke!
Ran. Yes, my lord Coke. What he says of one
I of the whole sex:

woman, pro

Bel. Three hours! Why, do you usually study in such shoes and stockings?

Ran. Rat your inquisitive eyes! Ex pede Herculem. Egad, you have me! The truth is, I am but this moment returned from the tavern. What, Frankly here too!

Enter FRANKLY.

Frank. My boy, Ranger, I am heartily glad to see you; Bellamy, let me embrace you; you are the person I waut; I have been at your lodgings, and was directed hither.

Ran. It is to him, then, I am obliged for this visit; but with all my heart. He is the only man to whom I don't care how much I am obliged. Bel. Your humble servant, sir.

say

"I take their bodies, you their minds;
Which has the better bargain?"

Frank. There is no arguing with so great a lawyer. Suppose, therefore, we adjourn the debate to some other time. I have some serious business with Mr. Bellamy, and you want sleep, I am sure. Ran. Sleep! mere loss of time and hindrance of business. We men of spirit, sir, are above it. Bel. Whither shall we go? Frank. Into the Park. My chariot is at the door. Bet. Then if my servant calls, you'll send him after us? [Exeunt Bellamy and Frankly. Ran. I will. (Looks on the card.) Clarinda's compliments-a pox of this head of ne! never once to ask where she was to be found. It is plain she is not one of us, or I should not have been so remiss in my inquiries. No matter; I shall meet her in my walks.

Re-enter Servant.
Serv. There is no letter nor message, sir.
Ran. Then my things, to dress.

"I take her body, you her mind;
Which has the better bargain?"

SCENE II.-A Chamber.

[Exit Serv.

[Exit.

Enter MRS. STRICTLAND and JACINTHA, meeting. Mrs. S. Good morrow, my dear Jacintha. Jac. Good morrow to you, madam. I have brought my work, and intend to sit with you this morning. I hope you have got the better of your fatigue. Where is Clarinda? I should be glad if

she would come and work with us.

Mrs. S. She work! she is too fine a lady to do anything. She is not stirring yet; we must let her have her rest. People of her waste of spirits require more time to recruit again.

Juc. It is pity she should be ever tired with what is so agreeable to everybody else. I am prodigiously pleased with her company.

Mrs. S. And when you are better acquainted, you will be still more pleased with her. You must rally her upon her partner at Bath; for I fancy part

of her rest has been disturbed on his account. Jac. Was he really a pretty fellow?

Mrs. S. That I can't tell, I did not dance myself, and so did not much mind him. You must have the whole story from herself.

None

Jac. Oh! I warrant ye, I get it all out. are so proper to make discoveries in love, as those who are in the secret themselves.

Enter LUCETTA.

Luc. Madam, Mr. Strictland is inquiring for you. Here has been Mr. Buckle with a letter from his master, which has made him very angry.

Jac. Mr. Bellamy said, indeed, he would try him once more, but I fear it will prove in vain. Tell your master I am here. [Exit Lucetta.] What signifies fortune, when it only makes us slaves to other people?

Mrs. S. Do not be uneasy, my Jacintha. You shall always find a friend in me; but as for Mr. Strictland, I know not what ill temper hangs about him lately; nothing satisfies him. You saw how he received us when we came off our journey. Though Clarinda was so good company, he was barely civil to her, and downright rude to me.

Jac. I cannot help saying I did observe it. . Mrs. S. I saw you did. Hush! he's here.

Enter STRICTLAND.

Strict. Oh! your servant, madam. Here, I have received a letter from Mr. Bellamy, wherein he desires I would once more hear what he has to say. You know my sentiments; nay, so does he.

Jac. For heaven's sake, consider, sir, this is no new affair, no sudden start of passion: we have known each other long. My father valued and loved him, and, I am sure, were he alive, I should have his consent.

Strict. Don't tell me. Your father would not have you marry against his will, neither will I against mine. I am your father now.

Jac. And you take a fatherly care of me. Strict. I wish I had never had anything to do with you.

Jac. You may easily get rid of the trouble. Strict. By listening, I suppose, to the young gentleman's proposals.

Jac. Which are very reasonable, in my opinion. Strict. Oh! very modest ones, truly! and a very modest gentleman he is that proposes them. A fool! to expect a lady of thirty thousand pounds fortune should, by the care and prudence of her guardian,

be thrown away upon a young fellow not worth three hundred a-year. He thinks being in love is an excuse for this; but I am not in love; what does he think will excuse me?

Mrs. S. Well, but, Mr. Strictland, I think the gentleman should be heard.

Strict. Well, well; seven o'clock is the time; saw him last, to persuade somebody or other to and if the man has had the good fortune, since I give him a better estate, I give him my consent, not else. His servant waits below; you may tell him I shall be at home. [Exit Jacintha.] But where is your friend, your other half, all this while? I thought you could not have breathed a minute without your Clarinda.

Mrs. S. Why, the truth is, I was going to see what makes her keep her chamber so long.

Strict. Look ye, Mrs. Strictland, you have been asking for money this morning. In plain terms, not one shilling shall pass through these fingers, till you have cleared my house of this Clarinda.

Mrs. S. How can her innocent gaiety have offended you? She is a woman of honour, and has as many good qualities

know it, and, therefore am uneasy. Strict. As women of honour generally have. I

Mrs. S. But, sir

Strict. But, madam; Clarinda, nor e'er a rake of fashion in England, shall live in my family to debauch it.

Mrs. S. Sir, she treated me with so much civility in the country, that I thought I could not do less than invite her to spend as much time with me in town as her engagements would permit. I little imagined you could have been displeased at my having so agreeable a companion.

Strict. There was a time when I was company enough for leisure hours,

mine was sure of meeting with a smile; but those Mrs. S. There was a time when every word of happy days, I know not why, have long been over.

Strict. I cannot bear a rival even of your own sex. I hate the very name of female friends. No two of you can ever be an hour by yourselves, but one or both are the worse for it.

Mrs. S. Dear Mr. Strictland

Strict. This I know, and will not suffer.

in earnest; but to convince you how willing I am Mrs. S. It grieves me, sir, to see you so much to make you easy in everything, it shall be my request to her to remove immediately.

Strict. Do it: harkye-your request? Why your's? 'tis mine-my command; tell her so. I will be master of my own family, and I care not who knows it.

you please. Mrs. S. You fright me, sir. But it shall be as [Exit, in tears. I am not mas

Strict. Ha! have I gone too far? ter of myself. Mrs. Strictland!

Re-enter MRS. STRICTLAND. Understand me right. I do not mean, by what I have said, that I suspect your innocence; but by crushing this growing friendship all at once, I may prevent a train of mischief which you do not foresee. I was, perhaps, too harsh; and, therefore, do it in your own way; but let me see the house fairly rid of her. [Exit.

Mrs. S. His earnestness in this affair amazes me; I am sorry I made this visit to Clarinda; and yet Necessity must plead in my excuse; for, at all I'll answer for her honour. What can I say to her? events, Mr. Strictland must be obeyed. [Exit.

SCENE III.-St. James's Park. Enter BELLAMY and FRANKLY. Bel. Is love the secret Ranger is not fit to hear?

In my mind, he would prove the more able counsellor. And is all the gay indifference of my friend at last reduced to love?

Frank. Even so. Never was prude more resolate in chastity and ill-nature, than I was fixed in indifference; but love has raised me from that inactive state above the being of a man.

Bel. Faith, Charles, I begin to think it has; but, pray, bring this rapture into order a little, and tell me regularly, how, where, and when.

Frank. If I was not most unreasonably in love, those horrid questions would stop my mouth at once; but, as I am armed against reason, I answer, at Bath, on Tuesday, she danced and caught me. Bel. Danced! and was that all? But who is she? what is her name? her fortune? where does she live?

Frank. Hold, hold! not so many hard questions; have a little mercy. I know but little of her, that's certain; but all I do know you shall have. That evening was the first of her appearing at Bath; the moment I saw her, I resolved to ask the favour of her hand; but the easy freedom with which she gave it, and her unaffected good humour during the whole night, gained such a power over my heart, as none of her sex could ever boast before. I waited on her home, and the next morning, when I went to pay the usual compliments, the bird was flown; she had set out for London two hours before, and in a chariot and six, you rogue!

Bel. But was it her own, Charles?

Frank. That I don't know; but it looks better than being dragged to town in the stage. That day and the next I spent in inquiries. I waited on the ladies who came with her; they knew nothing of her. So, without learning either her name or fortune, I e'en called for my boots, and rode post after her.

Bel. And how do you find yourself after your journey?

Frank. Why, as yet, I own, I am but upon a cold scent; but a woman of her sprightliness and gentility cannot but frequent all public places; and when once she is found, the pleasure of the chase will overpay the pains of rousing her. Oh, Bellamy! there was something peculiarly charming in her, that seemed to claim my further acquaintance; and if in the other more familiar parts of life she shines with that superior lustre, and at last I win her to my arms, how shall I bless my resolution in pursuing her!

Bel. But if at last she should prove unworthyFrank. I would endeavour to forget her.

Bel. Promise me that, Charles, (takes his hand) and I allow-but we are interrupted.

Enter JACK MEGGOT.

J. Meg. Whom have we were? My old friend, Frankly thou art grown a mere antique since I saw thee. How hast thou done these five hundred years?

Frank. Even as you see me; well, and at your service ever.

J. Meg. Ha! who's that? (Apart to Frankly.) Frank. A friend of mine. (Apart.) Mr. Bellamy, this is Jack Meggot, sir, as honest a fellow as any in life.

J. Meg. Pho! pr'ythee! pox! Charles, don't be silly-Sir, I am your humble; any one who is a friend of Mr. Frankly's, I am proud of embracing. Bel. Sir, I shall endeavour to deserve your civility.

J. Meg. Oh, sir! Well, Charles; what, dumb? Come, come, you may talk, though you have nothing to say, as I do. Let us hear; where have you been?

Frank. Why, for this last week, Jack, I have

been at Bath?

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J. Meg. Bath! the most ridiculous place in life! amongst tradesmen's wives, who hate their husbands, and people of quality, that had rather go to the devil than stay at home; people of no taste, no gout; and for divertimenti, if it were not for the puppet-shew, la vertu would be dead amongst them. But the news, Charles; the ladies-I fear your time hung heavy on your hands, by the small stay you made there.

Frank. Faith! and so it did, Jack; the ladies are grown such idiots in love. The cards have so debauched their five senses, that love, almighty love himself, is utterly neglected.

J. Meg. It is the strangest thing in life, but it is just so with us abroad. Faith! Charles, to tell you a secret which I don't care if all the world knows, I am almost surfeited with the services of the ladies; the modest ones I mean. The vast variety of duties they expect, as dressing up to the fashion, losing fashionably, keeping fashionable hours, drinking fashionable liquors, and fifty other such irregular niceties, so ruin a man's pocket and constitution, that, 'fore gad! he must have the estate of a duke, and the strength of a gondolier, who would list himself into their service.

Frank. A free confession, truly, Jack, for one of your coat. Bel. The ladies are obliged to you.

Enter BUCKLE, with a letter to BELLAMY.

J. Meg. Oh, lard, Charles! I have had the greatest misfortune in life since I saw you; poor Otho, that I brought from Rome with me, is dead.

Frank. Well, well, get you another, and all will be well again.

J. Meg. No; the rogue broke me so much china, and gnawed my Spanish-leather shoes so filthily, that when he was dead, I began not to endure him.

Bel. Exactly at seven. Run back and assure him I will not fail. [Exit Buckle.] Dead! pray, who was the gentleman?

J. Meg. This gentleman was my monkey, sir; an odd sort of a fellow, that used to divert me, and pleased everybody so at Rome, that he always made one in our conversationi. But, Mr. Bellamy, I saw a servant; I hope no engagement, for you two positively shall dine with me: I have the finest macaroni in life. Oblige me so far.

Bel. Sir, your servant; what say you, Frankly? J. Meg. Pho! pox! Charles, you shall go. My aunts think you begin to neglect them; and old maids, you know, are the most jealous creatures in life.

Frank. Ranger swears they can't be maids, they are so good-natured. Well, I agree, on condition I may eat what I please, and go away just when I will.

J. Meg. Ay, ay! you shall do just what you will. But how shall we do? my post-chaise won't carry

us all.

Frank. My chariot is here, and I will conduct Mr. Bellamy.

Bel. Mr. Meggot, I beg pardon, I can't possibly dine out of town; I have an engagement early in the evening.

J. Meg. Out of town! No, my dear, I live just by. I see one of the dilettanti I would not miss speaking to for the universe. And so I expect you at three. [Exit.

Frank. Ha, ha, ha! and so you thought you had at least fifty miles to go post for a spoonful of macaroni?

Bel. A special acquaintance I have made to-day! Frank. For all this, Bellamy, he has a heart worthy your friendship. He spends his estate freely; and you cannot oblige him more than by shewing him how he can be of service to you.

Bel. Now you say something. It is the heart, Frankly, I value in a man.

Frank. Right! and there is a heart even in a woman's breast that is worth the purchase, or my judgment has deceived me. Dear Bellamy, I know your concern for me; see her first, and then blame me if you can.

Bel. So far from blaming you, Charles, that if my endeavours can be serviceable, I will beat the bushes with you.

Frank. That, I am afraid, will not do; for you know less of her than I: but if, in your walks, you meet a finer woman than ordinary, let her not escape till I have seen her. Wheresoever she is, she cannot long lie hid.

ACT II.

SCENE I.-St. James's Park.

[Exeunt.

as you may imagine. I and my spark have been long acquainted: as he was continually with my father, I soon perceived he loved me; and the manner of his expressing that love was what pleased and won me most.

Cla. Well, and how was it? the old bait, flattery; dear flattery, I warrant ye.

Jac. No indeed; I had not the pleasure of hearing my person, wit, and beauty, painted out with forced praises; but I had a more sensible delight, in perceiving the drift of his whole behaviour was to make every hour of my time pass away agreeably.

Čla. The rustic! what, did he never say a handsome thing of your person?

Mrs. S. He did, it seems, what pleased her better; he flatter'd her good sense, as much as a less cunning lover would have done her beauty.

Cla. On my conscience you are well match'd. Jac. So well, that if my guardian denies me

Enter CLARINDA, JACINTHA, and MRS. STRICT- happiness (and this evening he is to pass his final

LAND.

Jac. Ay, ay! we both stand condemned out of our own mouths.

Cla. Why, I cannot but own I never had thought of any man that troubled me but him.

Mrs. S. Then I dare swear, by this time, you heartily repent your leaving Bath so soon.

Cla. Indeed you are mistaken. I have not had one scruple since.

Jac. Why, what one inducement can he have ever to think of you again?

Cla. Oh! the greatest of all inducements, curiosity let me assure you, a woman's surest hold over a man is to keep him in uncertainty. As soon as ever you put him out of doubt, you put him out of your power: but when once a woman has awaked his curiosity, she may lead him a dance of many a troublesome mile, without the least fear of losing him at last.

Jac. Now do I heartily wish he may have spirit enough to follow, and use you as you deserve. Such a spirit, with but a little knowledge of our sex, might put that heart of your's into a strange flutter.

Cla. I care not how soon, I long to meet with such a fellow. Our modern beaux are such jointbabies in love, they have no feeling; they are entirely insensible either of pain or pleasure but from their own dear persons; and according as we flatter or affront their beauty, they admire or forsake ours: they are not worthy even of our displeasure; and, in short, abusing them is but so much ill-nature merely thrown away. But the man of sense, who values himself upon his high abilities, or the man of wit, who thinks a woman beneath his conversation-to see such the subjects of our power, the slaves of our frowns and smiles, is glorious indeed!

Mrs. S. No man of sense, or wit either, if he be truly so, ever did, or ever can think a woman of merit beneath his wisdom to converse with.

Jac. Nor will such a woman value herself upon making such a lover uneasy.

Cla. Amazing! Why, every woman can give ease. You cannot be in earnest.

Mrs. S. I can assure you she is, and has put in practice the doctrine she has been teaching.

Cla. Impossible! Who ever heard the name of love mentioned without an idea of torment? But pray let us hear.

Jac. Nay, there is nothing to hear, that I know of,

Cla. So I suspected indeed. The novel is not likely to be long, when the lady is so well prepared for the denouement.

Jac. The novel, as you call it, is not so short

sentence,) nothing is left but to break my prison, and fly into my lover's arms for safety.

Cla. Hey-day! o'my conscience thou art a brave girl. Thou art the very first prude that ever had honesty enough to avow her passion for a

inan.

Jac. And thou art the first finish'd coquette who ever had any honesty at all.

Mrs. S. Come, come; you are both too good for either of those characters.

Cla. And my dear Mrs. Strictland here, is the first young married woman of spirit who has an illnatured fellow for a husband, and never once thinks of using him as he deserves. Good heaven! if I had such a husband

Mrs. S. You would be just as unhappy as I am. Cla. But come now, confess-do not you long to be a widow?

Mrs. S. Would I were any thing but what I am.

Cla. Then go the nearest way about it. I'd break that stout heart of his in less than a fortnight. I'd make him know

Mrs. S. Pray be silent. You know my resolution.

Cla. I know you have no resolution.

Mrs. S. You are a mad creature, but I forgive you.

Cla. It is all meant kindly, I assure you. But since you won't be persuaded to your good, I will think of making you easy in your submission, as soon as ever I can. I dare say I may have the same lodging I had last year: I can know immediately. I see my chair and so, ladies both,

adieu.

[Exit.

Jac. Come, Mrs. Strictland, we shall but just have time to get home before Mr. Bellamy comes. Mrs. S. Let us return then to our common prison. You must forgive my ill-nature, Jacintha, if I almost wish Mr. Strictland may refuse to join your hand where your heart is given.

Methinks

Jac. Lord, madam, what do you mean? Mrs. S. Self-interest only, child. your company in the country would soften all my sorrows, and I could bear them patiently.

Re-enter CLARINDA.

Cla. Dear Mrs. Strictland-I am so confused, and so out of breath

Mrs. S. Why, what's the matter?

Jac. I protest you fright me.

Cla. Oh! I have no time to recover myself, I am so frighten'd and so pleas'd. In short then, the dear man is here.

Mrs. S. Here-Lord-Where?

Cla. I met him this instant; I saw him at a distance, turn'd short, and ran hither directly. Let us go home. I tell you he follows me.

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