Mir. A light, whimsical, impertinent madcap. [Aside.

Bis. Whom do you mean, Sir? Mir. Whom do you mean, Madam? Bis. A fellow that has nothing left to re-establish him for a human creature, but a prudent resolution to hang himself.

Mir. There is a way, Madam, to force me to that resolution.

Bis. I'll do it with all my heart.

Mir. Then you must marry me.

Bis. Lookye, Sir, don't think your ill manners o me shall excuse your ill usage of my friend, nor by fixing a quarrel here, to divert my zeal for the absent: for I'm resolved, nay, I come prepared, to make you a panegyric that shall mortify your pride like any modern dedication.

Mir. And I, Madam, like a true modern patron, shall hardly give you thanks for your trouble.

Bis. Come, Sir, to let you see what little foundation you have for your dear sufficiency, I'll take you to pieces.

Mir. And what piece will you choose?

Bis. Your heart, to be sure; 'cause I should get presently rid on't; your courage I would give to a Hector, your wit to a play-maker, your honour to an attorney, your body to the physicians, and your soul to its Master.

Mir. I had the oddest dream last night of the duchess of Burgundy; methought the furbelows of her gown were pinned up so high behind, that I could not see her head for her tail.

Bis. The creature don't mind me! [Aside.] Do you think, Sir, that your humourous impertinence can divert me? No, Sir, I'm above any pleasure that you can give, but that of seeing you miserable. And mark me, Sir, my friend, my injured friend, shall yet be doubly happy, and you shall be a husband as much as the rites of marriage, and the breach of them, can make you.

[MIRABEL pulls out a Virgil, and reads to himself.

Mir. "At regina dolos, (quis fallere possit amantem?)

Dissimulare etiam sperasti, perfide tantum," Very true,

"Posse nefas."

By your favour, friend Virgil, 'twas but a rascally trick of your hero to forsake poor Pug so inhumanly.

Bis. I don't know what to say to him. [Aside.] The devil-what 's Virgil to us, Sir?

Mir. Very much, Madam; the most a-propos in the world-for what should I chop upon but the very place where the perjured rogue of a lover and the forsaken lady are battling it tooth and nail. Come, Madam, spend your spirits no longer; we'll take an easier method; I'll be Æneas now, and you shall be Dido, and we'll rail by book. Now for you, Madam Dido.

"Nec te noster amor, nec te data dextera quondam,

Nec moritura tenet crudeli funere Dido."Ah, poor Dido! [Looks at her. Bis. Rudeness, affronts, impatience! I could almost start out even to manhood, and want but a weapon as long as his to fight him upon the spot. What shall I say? [Aside.

Bis. A man! No, the woman's birth was spirited away.

Mir. Right, right, Madam: the very words. Bis. And some pernicious elf left in the cradle, with human shape, to palliate growing mischief. [Speak together, and raise their voices by degrees.

Mir. "Perfide, sed duris genuit te cautibus

horrens

Caucasus, Hyrcanæque admorunt Ubera T gres."

Bis. Go, Sir, fly to your midnight revels-
Mir. Excellent!

I sequere Italiam ventis, pete regna per
undas,

Spero eqidem mediis, si quid pia Numina possunt." [Together again. Bis. Now the devil take his impudence! he vexes me so, I don't know whether to cry or laugh at him. [Aside.

Mir. Bravely performed, my dear Libyan. I'll write the tragedy of Dido, and you shall act the part: but you do nothing at all, unless you fret yourself into a fit, for here the poor lady is stifled with vapours, drops into the arms of her maids; and the cruel, barbarous, deceitful wanderer is in the very next line called pious Æneas.-There is authority for ye.

Sorry indeed Eneas stood
To see her in a pout;

But Jove himself, who ne'er thought good
To stay a second bout,
Commands him off with all his crew,

And leaves poor Dy, as I leave you.

[Runs off.

agreeable fellow. O'my conscience, I must excuse Bis. Go thy ways, for a dear, mad, deceitful, Oriana.

That lover soon his angry fair disarms.

Whose slighting pleases, and whose faults are charms.

Re-enter PETIT, who runs about to every door, and knocks.

Pet. Mr. Mirabel! Sir, where are you? nowhere to be found?

Re-enter MIRABEL. Mir. What's the matter, Petit?

Pet. Most critically met- -Ah, Sir, that one who has followed the game so long, and brought the poor hare just under his paws, should let a mongrel cur chop in, and run away with the puss.

Mir. If your worship can get out of your allegories, be pleased to tell me in three words what you mean!

Pet. Plain, plain, Sir. Your mistress and mine is going to be married.

[Going.

Mir. I believe you lie, Sir. Pet. Your humble servant, Sir. Mir. Come hither, Petit. Married, say you Pet. No, Sir, 'tis no matter; I only thought to do you a service, but I shall take care how I confer favours for the future.

my

Mir. Sir, I beg ten thousand pardons. [Bows low. Pet. 'Tis enough, Sir-I come to tell you, Sir, that Oriana is this moment to be sacrificed; married past redemption.

Mir. I understand her; she'll take a husband out of spite to me, and then out of love to me she will make him a cuckold. But who is the happy man ?

Pet. A lord, Sir.

Mir. I'm her ladyship's most humble servant; a train and a title; hey! Room for my lady's coach! a front row in the box for her ladyship' Lights, lights, for her honour!-Now must I be a constant attender at my lord's levee, to work my way to my lady's couchee-a countess, I presume, Sir.

Pet. A Spanish count, Sir, that Mr. Dugard knew abroad, is come to Paris, saw your mistress yesterday, marries her to-day, and whips her into Spain to-morrow.

Mir. Ay, is it so? and must I follow my cuckold over the Pyrennees? Had she married within the precincts of a billet-doux, I would be the man to lead her to church; but, as it happens, I'll forbid the banns. Where is this mighty don?

Pet. Have a care, Sir; he's a rough, crossgrained piece, and there's no tampering with him. Would you apply to Mr. Dugard, or the lady herself, something might be done; for it is in despite to you that the business is carried so I must be hastily. Odso, Sir, here he comes. [Exit.

gone.

Mir. Boh!

now?

find in my heart to pay thee. [Aside.] Is the fellow mad? Why sure, Sir, I ha'n't frightened you out of your senses?

Old Mir. But you have, Sir. Mir. Then I'll beat them into you again. [Offers to strike him. Old Mir. Why, rogue-Bob, dear Bob, don't you know me, child?

Mir. Ha, ha, ha! the fellow's downright distracted! Thou miracle of impudence! wouldst thou make me believe that such a grave gentleman as my father would go a masquerading thus? That a person of threescore and three would run about in a fool's coat to disgrace himself and family? Why, you impudent villain, do you think I will suffer such an affront to pass upon my honoured father, my worthy father, my dear father? 'Sdeath, Sir, mention my father but once again, and I'll send your soul to thy grandfather [Offers to stab him. this minute!

Old Mir. Well, well, I am not your father. Mir. Why then, Sir, you are the saucy, hectoring Spaniard, and I'll use you accordingly.

Old Mir. The devil take the Spaniards, Sir: we have all got nothing but blows since we began to take their part.

Re-enter DUGARD, ORIANA, and PETIT; with MAID. DUGARD runs to MIRABEL, the rest to OLD MIRABEL.

Dag. Fie, fie, Mirabel, murder your father! Mir. My father! What, is the whole family mad? Give me way, Sir: I won't be held. Old Mir. No, nor I either; let me be gone, pray. [Offers to go.

Mir. My father!

Old Mir. Ay, you dog's face! I am your father; for I have bore as much for thee as your mother ever did.

Mir. O ho! then this was a trick it seems, a design, a contrivance, a stratagem-Oh! how my bones ache!

Old Mir. Your bones, sirrah; why yours?

Mir. Why, Sir, ha'n't I been beating my own flesh and blood all this while? O, Madam. [To ORIANA.] I wish your ladyship joy of your new dignity. Here was a contrivance indeed.

Pet. The contrivance was well enough, Sir; for they imposed upon us all.

Mir. Well, my dear Dulcinea, did your Don Quixote battle for you bravely? My father will answer for the force of my love.

Ori. Pray, Sir, don't insult the misfortunes of your own creating.

Dug. My prudence will be counted cowardice, if I stand tamely now. [Aside. Comes up between MIRABEL and his sister.] Well, Sir!

Mir. Well, Sir! Do you take me for one of your tenants, Sir, that you put on your landlord face at me!

Dug. On what presumption, Sir, dare you as[Draws. sume thus ? Old Mir. What's that to you, Sir? [Draws. Pet. Help! help! the lady faints.

Mir. Vapours! vapours! she'll come to herself. If it be an angry fit, a dram of assafoetida-If jealousy, hartshorn in water-If the mother, burnt feathers—If grief, ratifia-If it be strait stays or corns, there's nothing like a dram of plain brandy. [Exit

Ori. Hold off; give me air-O, my brother, would you preserve my life, endanger aot your

own; would you defend my reputation, leave it to itself. 'Tis a dear vindication that 's purchased by the sword; for though our champion proves victorious, yet our honour is wounded.

Old Mir. Ay, and your lover may be wounded, that's another thing. But I think you are pretty brisk again, my child.

Ori. Ay, Sir, my indisposition was only a pretence to divert the quarrel; the capricious taste of your sex excuses this artifice in ours:

For often, when our chief perfections fail,
Our chief defects with foolish men prevail.

[Exit. Pet. Come, Mr. Dugard, take courage; there is a way still left to fetch him again.

Old Mir. Sir, I'll have no plot that has relation to Spain.

any

Dug. I scorn all artifice whatsoever; my sword shall do her justice.

Pet. Pretty justice, truly! Suppose you run him through the body; you run her through the heart at the same time.

Old Mir. Let me alone to ferret him out; I'l sacrifice the abbot, if he receives him; I'll try whether the spiritual or the natural father has the most right to the child. But, dear captain, what has he done with his estate?

Dur. Settled it upon the church, Sir.

Old Mir. The church! Nay, then the devil won't get him out of their clutches-Ten thousand livres a year upon the church! 'Tis downright sacrilege-Come, gentleman, all hands to work; for half that sum, one of these monasteries shall protect you a traitor from the law, a rebellious wife from her husband, and a disobedient son [Erit. from his own father.

Dug. But will you persuade me that he's gone to a monastery?

Dur. Is your sister gone to the Filles Repenties? 1 tell you, Sir, she's not fit for the society of repenting maids.

Dug. Why so, Sir?

Pet. What if she pretended to go into a nunnery, and so bring him about to declare himself? Dug. That I must confess has a face.

Old Mir. A face! A face like an angel, Sir. Ads my life, Sir, 'Tis the most beautiful plot in Christendom. We'll about it immediately. [Exeunt.

ACT IV.

SCENE I-OLD MIRABEL's House.
Enter OLD MIRABEL and DUGARD.

Dug. The lady abbess is my relation, and privy io the plot.

Old Mir. Ay, ay, this nunnery will bring him about, I warrant ye.

Enter DURETETE.

Dur. Here, where are ye all ?-O! Mr. Mirabel, you have done fine things for your posterityAnd you, Mr. Dugard, may come to answer this-I come to demand my friend at restore him, Sir, or

your

hands:

[TO OLD MIRABEL. Old Mir. Restore him! What, d'ye think I have got him in my trunk, or my pocket? Dur. Sir, he's mad, and you're the cause on't. Old Mir. That may be; for I was as mad as he when I begot him.

Dug. Mad, Sir! what d'ye mean?

Dur. What do you mean, Sir, by shutting up your sister yonder to talk like a parrot through a cage? or a decoy duck, to draw others into the snare? Your son, Sir, because she has deserted him, has forsaken the world; and in three words, [To OLD MIRABEL.

has

Old Mir. Hanged himself!
Dur. The very same-turned friar.

Old Mir. You lie, Sir; 'tis ten times worse. Bob turned friar!-Why should the fellow shave his foolish crown, when the same razor may cut his throat?

Dur. If you have any command, or you any interest over him, lose not a minute; he has thrown himself into the next monastery, and has ordered me to pay off his servants, and discharge his equipage.

SCENE II.—The Inside of a Monastery. ORIANA discovered in a Nun's habit, with BISARRE.

Ori. I hope, Bisarre, there is no harm in jesting with this religious habit?

Bis. To me, the greatest jest in the habit is taking it in earnest: I don't understand this imprisoning people with the keys of paradise, nor the merit of that virtue which comes by constraint. But I must be gone upon my affairs; I have brought my captain about again.

Ori. But why will you trouble yourself with that coxcomb ?

Bis. Because he is a coxcomb; had I not better have a lover like him, that I can make an ass of, than a lover like yours, to make a fool of me. [Knocking below.] A message from Mirabel, I'll lay my life. [She runs to the door.] Come hither, run; thou charming nun, come hither. Ori. What's the news?

Bis. Don't you see who's below?
Ori. I see nobody but a friar.

Bis. Ah! thou poor blind Cupid! O'my conscience, these hearts of ours spoil our heads instantly! the fellows no sooner turn knaves than we turn fools. A friar! don't you see a villanous genteel mien under that cloak of hypocrisy ?

Ori. As I live, Mirabel turned friar! I hope in heaven, he's not in earnest.

Bis In earnest: ha, ha, ha! are you in earcertainly taken for a passport, to get in and try nest? Now's your time; this disguise he has your resolutions; stick to your habit, to be sure; treat him with disdain, rather than anger: for pride becomes us more than passion; remember what say, if you would yield to advantage, and hold out the attack; to draw him on, keep him off, to be sure.

The cunning gamesters never gain too fast,
But lose at first, to win the more at last.

[Exit.

Enter MIRABEL in a Friar's habit. Mir. Save you, sister-Your brother, young lady, having a regard for your soul's health, hath sent me to prepare you for the sacred habit by confession.

Ori. That's false; the cloven foot already.

SCENE III.J

Aside. My brother's care I own; and to you, sacred Sir, I confess, that the great crying sin which I have long indulged, and now prepare to expiate, was love.

Mir. She's downright stark mad in earnest; death and confusion, I have lost her! [Aside.] You confess your fault, Madam, in such moving terms, that I could almost be in love with the sin. Ori. Take care, Sir; crimes, like virtues, are their own rewards; my chief delight became my only grief; he in whose breast I thought my secure, turned robber, and despoiled the treasure that he kept.

heart

Mir. Perhaps that treasure he esteems so much, that, like the miser, though afraid to use it,

he reserves it safe.

Ori. No, holy father: who can be miser in another's wealth, that's prodigal of his own? His heart was open, shared to all he knew; and what, alas! must then become of mine? but the same eyes that drew this passion in, shall send it out in tears, to which now hear my vow

Mir. [Discovering himself.] No, my fair angel, but let me repent: here on my knees, behold the criminal that vows repentance his.-Ha! no concern upon her?

Well, mistress, do you love me?

Bis. I hope, Sir, you will pardon the modesty of—

Dur. Of what? of a dancing devil ?-Do you love me, I say?

Bis. Perhaps I
Dur. What?

Bis. Perhaps, I do not.

Dur. Ha! abused again! Death, woman, I 'llBis. Hold, hold, Sir; I do, I do!

Dur. Confirm it then by your obedience; stand there, and ogle me now, as if your heart, blood, and soul, were like to fly out at your eyes-First, the direct surprise. [She looks full upon him.] Right; next the deur yeux par oblique. [She gives him the side glance.] Right; now depart and languish. [She turns from him and looks over her shoulder.] Very well; now sigh. [She sighs.] Now drop your fan on purpose. [She drops her fan.] Now take it up again: Come now, confess your faults; are you not a proud--- · say after me.

Bis. Proud.

Dur. Impertinent. Bis. Impertinent. Dur. Ridiculous. Bis. Ridiculous. Dur. Flirt.

Bis. Puppy.

Dur. Zoons! woman, don't provoke me; we are alone, and you don't know but the devil may tempt me to do you a mischief; ask my pardon immediately.

Bis. I do, Sir; I only mistook the word. Dur. Cry then: have you got e'er a handkerchief?

Enter MIRABEL and OLD MIRAPEL. Mir. Your patience, Sir. I tell you I won't marry; and though you send all the bishops in France to persuade me, I shall never believe their doctrine against their practice. You would compel me to that state, which I have heard you curse yourself, when my mother and you have battled it for a whole week together.

Old Mir. Never but once, you rogue, and that was when she longed for six Flanders mares: ay, Sir, then she was breeding of you, which showed what an expensive dog I should have of you. Enter PETIT.

Well, Petit, how does she now ?

Pet. Mad, Sir, con pompos-Ay, Mr. Mirabel, you'll believe that I speak truth now, when I confess that I have told you hitherto nothing but lies; our jesting is come to a sad earnest, she's downright distracted.

Re-enter BISARRE.

Bis. Where is this mighty victor?-The great exploit is done; go triumph in the glory of your conquest, inhuman, barbarous man! O Sir, [To OLD MIRABEL.] your wretched ward has found a tender guardian of you; where her young innocence expected protection, here has she found her

ruin.

Old Mir. Ay, the fault is mine; for I believe that rogue wont marry, for fear of begetting such another disobedient son as his father did. I have done all I can, Madam, and now can do no more than run mad for company. [Cries.

Enter DUGARD, with his sword drawn. Dug. Away! Revenge, revenge. Old Mir. Patience, patience, Sir. [OLD MIRABEL holds him.] Bob, draw. [Aside. Dug. Patience! The coward's virtue, and the brave man's failing, when thus provoked-Villain! Mir. Your sister's frenzy shall excuse your madness; and to show my concern for what she suffers, I'll bear the villain from her brother.— Put up your anger with your sword; I have a heart like yours, that swells at an affront received, but melts at an injury given; and if the lovely Oriana's grief be such a moving scene, 'twill find a part within this breast, perhaps as tender as a brother's.

Dug. To prove that soft compassion for her grief, endeavour to remove it.-There, there, behold an object that 's infective; I cannot view her, but I am as mad as she.

Enter ORIANA; they place her in a chair. A sister that my dying parents left with their last words and blessing to my care. Sister, dearest sister.

Old Mir. Ay, poor child, poor child, d'ye know me ?

Ori. You! you are Amadis de Gaul, Sir;Oh! oh my heart! Were you never in love, fair lady? And do you never dream of flowers and gardens?--I dream of walking fires, and tall gigantic sights. Take heed, it comes nowWhat's that? Pray stand away: I have seen that face sure-How light my head is!

Mir. What piercing charms has beauty even in madness-Come, Madam, try to repose a little.

Ori. I cannot; for I must be up to go to church, and I must dress me, put on my new gown, and be so fine, to meet my love. Hey, ho! Will not you tell me where my heart lies buried? Mir. My very soul is touched-Your hand, my fair.

Ori. How soft and gentle you feel! I'll tell you your fortune, friend.

Mir. How she stares upon me!

Ori. You have a flattering face; but 'tis a fine one-I warrant you have five hundred mistressesAy, to be sure, a mistress for every guinea in his pocket-Will you pray for me? I shall die tomorrow-And will you ring my passing-bell? Mir. Do you know me, injured creature?

Ori. No, but you shall be my intimate acquaintance-in the grave. [Weeps.

Mir. O tears, I must believe you; sure there's a kind of sympathy in madness; for even I, obdurate as I am, do feel my soul so tossed with storms of passion, that I could cry for help as well as she. [Wipes his eyes,

Ori. What, have you lost your lover? No, you mock me; I'll go home and pray.

Mir. Stay, my fair innocence, and hear me own my love so loud that I may call your senses to their place, restore 'em to their charming, happy functions, and reinstate myself into your favour.

Bis. Let her alone, Sir, 'tis all too late; she trembles, hold her; her fits grow stronger by her talking; don't trouble her, she don't know you, Sir.

Old Mir. Not know him! what then? she loves to see him for all that.

Dur. Mad! dost wonder at that? By this light, they're all so; they're cozening mad; they're brawling mad; they're proud mad; I just now came from a whole world of mad women, that had almost-What, is she dead?

Mir. Dead! heavens forbid.

Dur. Heavens further it; for 'till they be as cold as a key, there's no trusting them; you're never sure that a woman's in earnest, till she is nailed in her coffin. Shall I talk to her? Are you mad, mistress?

Bis. What's that to you, Sir? Dur. Oons, Madam, are you there? [Exit, running