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he came to me about: he told me there was a lady of his acquaintance had some favourable thoughts of me, and I'gad, says he, she's a hummer; such a bona roba, ah. So without more ado begs me to lend it him till dinner (for we concluded to eat together) so away he scuttled with as great joy as if he had found the philosopher's stone.

Cour. Very well.

Beau. At Locket's we met again; where after a thousand grimaces, to shew how much he was pleased, instead of my picture, presents me with the contents aforesaid; and told me the lady desired me to accept of 'em for the picture, which she was much transported withal, as well as with the original.

Cour. Ha!

Beau. Now, whereabouts this taking quality lies in me, the devil take me, Ned, if I know; but the fates, Ned, the fates!

Cour. A curse on the fates! Of all strumpets, for'tune's the basest; 'twas fortune made me a soldier, a rogue in red, the grievance of the nation; fortune made the peace just when we were upon the brink of a war; then fortune disbanded us, and lost us two months' pay: fortune gave us debentures instead of ready money, and by very good fortune I sold mine, and lost heartily by it, in hopes the grinding ill-natured dog that bought it will never get a shilling for't.-

Beau. Leave off thy railing; for shame, it looks like a cur that barks for want of bones. Come, times may mend, and an honest soldier be in fashion again.

Cour. These greasy, fat, unwieldy wheezing rogues that live at home, and brood over their bags, when a fit of fear's upon 'em, then if one of us pass but by, all the family is ready at the door to cry, Heavens bless you, sir, the laird go along with you!

Beau. Ah good men, what pity 'tis such proper gentlemen should ever be out of employment.

Cour. But when the business is over, then every parish bawd that goes but to a conventicle twice a week,

and pays but scot and lot to the parish, shall roar out,, fogh, ye lousy red-coat rake-hells! hout, ye caterpillars, ye locusts of the nation! you are the dogs that would enslave us all, plunder our shops, and ravish our daughters, ye scoundrels!

Beau. I must confess ravishing ought to be regulated; it would destroy commerce, and many a good sober matron about this town might lose the selling of her daugter's maidenhead, which were a great grievance to the people, and a particular branch of property lost. Fourbin.

Four. Your worship's pleasure?

Beau. Run, like a rogue as you are, and try to find sir Jolly, and desire him to meet me at the Blue-Posts in the Haymarket about twelve; we'll dine together: I must enquire farther into yesterday's adventure; in the mean time, Ned, here's half the prize, to be doing withal: old friends must preserve correspondence; we have shared good fortune together, and bad shall never part

us.

Cour. Well, thou wilt certainly die in a ditch for this: hast thou no more grace than to be a true friend? nay, to part with thy money to thy friend? I grant you, a gentleman may swear and lie for his friend, pimp for his friend, hang for his friend, and so forth; but to part with ready money is the devil.

Beau. Stand aside, either I am mistaken, or yonder's sir Jolly coming: now, Courtine, will I shew thee the flower of knighthood. Ah, sir Jolly!

Enter Sir JOLLY JUMBLE.

Sir Jol. My hero! my darling! my Ganymede! how dost thou? Strong! wanton! lusty! rampant! hah, ah, ah! She's thine, boy, odd she's thine; plump, soft, smooth, wanton! hah, ah, ah! Ah rogue! ah rogue! here's shoulders! here's shape! there's a foot and leg, here's a leg, here's a leg-Qua-a-a-a-a.

[Squeaks like a Cat, and tickles Beaugard's legs.

Cour. What an old goat's this!

Sir Jol. Child, child, child, who's that? a friend of thine? a friend o' thine? A pretty fellow, odd a very pretty fellow, and a strong dog I'll warrant him. How dost do, dear heart? pr'ythee let me kiss thee. I'll swear and vow I will kiss thee; ha, ha, he, he, he, he, a toad, a toad, ah toa-a-a-d—

Cour. Sir, I am your humble servant.

Beau. But the lady, sir Jolly, the lady; how does the lady? what says the lady, sir Jolly?

Sir Jol. What says the lady! why she says—she says-odd she has a delicate lip, such a lip, so red, so hard, so plump, so blub; I fancy I am eating cherries every time I think on't-and for her neck and breasts, and her-odd's life; I'll say no more, not a word more; but I know, I know

Beau. I am sorry for that with all my heart; do you know, say you, sir? and would you put off your mumbled orts, your offal upon me?—

Sir Jol. Hush, hush, hush! have a care; as I live and breathe, not I; alack and well-a-day, I am a poor old fellow, decayed and done: all's gone with me, gentlemen, but my good nature; odd I love to know how matters go though now and then, to see a pretty wench and a young fellow touze and rouze and frouze and mouze; odd I love a young fellow dearly, faith dearly

Cour. This is the most extraordinary rogue I ever met withal.

Beau. But, sir Jolly, in the first place, you must know I have sworn never to marry.

Sir Jol. I would not have thee, man, I am a batchelor myself, and have been a whore-master all my life; besides, she's married already, man; her husband's an old, greasy, untoward, ill-natured, slovenly, tobaccotaking cuckold; but plaguy jealous.

Beau. Already a cuckold, sir Jolly?

Sir Jol. No, that shall be, my boy; thou shalt make him one, and I'll pimp for thee, dear heart; and

shan't I hold the door? shan't I peep, hah? shan't I, you devil, you little dog, shan't I?

Beau. What is it I'd not grant to oblige my patron? Sir Jol. And then dost thou hear, I have a lodging for thee in my own house: dost hear, old soul? in my own house; she lives the very next door, man; there's but a wall to part her chamber and thine; and then for a peep-hole, odd's fish I have a peep-hole for thee; 'sbud I'll shew thee, I'll shew thee—

Beau. But when, sir Jolly? I am in haste, impatient. Sir Jol. Why this very night, man; poor rogue's in haste, poor rogue; but hear you

Cour. The matter?

Sir Jol. Shan't we dine together?

Beau. With all my heart.

Sir Jol. The maw begins to empty, get you before, and bespeak dinner at the Blue-Posts; while I stay behind and gather up a dish of whores for a dessert:

Cour. Be sure that they be lewd, drunken, stripping whores, sir Jolly, that won't be affectedly squeamish and troublesome.

Sir Jol. I warrant you.

Cour. I love a well-disciplined whore, that shews all the tricks of her profession with a wink, like an old soldier that understands all his exercise by beat of drum.

Sir Jol. Ah, thief, sayest thou so? I must be better acquainted with that fellow; he has a notable nose, a hard brawny carle-true and trusty, and mettle I'll warrant him.

Beau. Well, sir Jolly, you'll not fail us?

Sir Jol. Fail ye! am I a knight? hark ye, boys: I'll muster this evening such a regiment of rampant, roaring, roisterous whores, that shall make more noise than if all the cats in the Haymarket were in conjunction: whores, ye rogues, that shall swear with you, drink with you, talk bawdy with you, fight with you, scratch with you, lie with you, and go to the devil with you. Shan't we be very merry, hah?

Cour. As merry as wine, women, and wickedness can make us.

Sir Jol. Odd, that's well said again, very well said; as merry as wine, women, and wickedness can make us: I love a fellow that's very wicked dearly: methinks there's a spirit in him, there's a sort of tantara rara; tantara rara, ah, ah-; well, and won't ye, when the women come, won't ye, and shall I not see a little sport amongst you? well, get ye gone; ah rogues, alı. rogues, da, da, I'll be with you, da, da—

[Ex. Beau. and Cour.

Enter several Whores, and Three Bullies.

1 Bully. In the name of satan, what whores are those in their copper trim, yonder?

1 Whore. Well, I'll swear, madam, 'tis the finest evening; I love the Mall mightily.

2 Bully. Let's huzza the bulkers.

2 Whore. Really, and so do I; because there's always good company, and one meets with such civilities from every body.

3 Bully. Damned whores! hout ye filthies!

3 Whore. Ay, and then I love extremely to shew myself here, when I am very fine, to vex those poor devils that call themselves virtuous, and are very scandalous and crapish, I'll swear; O crimine! who's yonder? sir Jolly Jumble, I vow.

1 Bully. Fogh! let's leave the nasty sows to fools and diseases.

1 Whore. Oh papa, papa! where have you been these two days, papa?

2 Whore. You are a precious father indeed, to take no more care of your children: we might be dead for all you, you naughty daddy, you.

Sir Jol. Dead, my poor fubses! odd, I had rather all the relations I have were dead; a-dad I had: get you gone, you little devils.