dam Camilla. Mr. Saunter, wait on Victoria. Mr. Goodvile, your humble servant. Dear Mr. Truman, won't you oblige me? Madam Goodvile-ha, ha, ha! I'll swear I had utterly forgotten Mr. Valentine.

Val. Your ladyship knows me to be a civil person; if you please, I'll keep good orders.

[All take out the women, Mal. Faith Ned do, and I'll keep the music in tune: away with it [Music plays.] Hold, hold-what insufferable rascals are these? why ye scurvy, thrashing, scraping mongrels, ye make a worse noise than crampt hedge-hogs. An old gouty dancing-master, that teaches to dance with his spectacles on, makes better music on his cracked kit-'Sdeath, ye dogs, can't you play now as a gentleman sings? ha

Good. Sir, will you never leave this nauseous humour of your's? I can never be with you but I must be forced to use you ill, or endure the perpetual torment of your impertinence.

Mal. Well, sir, I have done, sir, I have done: but 'tis very hard a man can't be permitted to shew his parts. 'Sdeath, Frank, dost thou think thou under standest music?

Good. Sir, I understand it so well, that I won't have it interrupted in my company by you.

Mal. I am glad on't with all my heart; I never thought you had understood any thing before--I think there I was pretty even with you.

Good. Sauciness and ill-manners are so much your province, that nothing but kicking is fit for you.

Mal. Sir, you may use your pleasure; but I care no more for being kicked, than you do for kicking. But pr'ythee, Frank, why should you be out of humour so? The devil take me, if I shall not give thee such a jerk presently will make thee angry indeed.

Lady Squ. Lord, Mr. Goodvile, how can you be so ill-natured? I'll swear, Mr. Malagene is in the right. These people have no manners in the least, play not at

all to dancing: but I vow he himself sings a tune extreme prettily.

Good. Death, hell and the devil, how am I teazed! I shall have no opportunity to pursue my business with Camilla: I must remove this troublesome coxcomb, and that perhaps may put a stop at least to her imperti[Aside.

nence.

Lady Squ. Mr. Truman, Mr. Goodvile and ladies, I beseech you do me the favour to hear Mr. Malagene sing a Scotch song: I'll swear I am a strange admirer of Scotch songs, they are the prettiest, soft, melting, gentle, harmless things

Saunt. By dad, and so they are.-In January last

[Sings. Val. Deliver us! a Scotch song! I hate it worse than a Scotch bagpipe, which even the bears are grown weary of, and have better music. I wish I could see her ladyship dance a Scotch jig to one of 'em.

Mal. I must needs beg your ladyship's pardon. I have forgotten the last new Scotch song: but if you please I'll entertain you with one of another nature, which I am apt to believe will be as pleasant.

Lady Squ. Let me die, Mr. Malagene, you are eternally obliging me. [Malagene sings an Irish Cronon. Mal. Well; madam, how like you it, madam, ha?

Lady Squ. Really it is very pretty now-the prettiest, odd, out-of-the-way notes. Don't you admire it strangely?

Mal. I'll assure your ladyship I learnt it of an Irish musician that's lately come over, and intend to present it to an author of my acquaintance, to put it in his next play.

Lady Squ. Ha, ha, Mr. Valentine! I would have you learn it for a serenade to your mistress--ha, ha, ha!

Val. My page, madam, is docible, and has a pretty voice, he shall learn it, if you please; and if your ladyship has any further service for him

Lady Squ. Ah Lord, wit, wit, wit, as I live! Come let's dance.

Tru. Valentine, thou art something too rough; I am afraid her ladyship will be revenged: I see mischief in her eyes: 'tis safer provoking a Lancashire witch, than an old mistress; and she is as violent in her malice too. Good. Malagene, a word with you-bark ye, come hither. [Goes to the door. Mal. Well, Frank, what's the business now? I am clearly for mischief: shall I break the fiddles, and turn the rascals out of doors?

Good. No, sir; but I'll be so civil to turn you out of doors. Nay, sir, no struggling; I have footmen within.

Mal. Whoo! pr'ythee what's all this for? What a pox, I know my lady well enough for a silly, affected, fantastical gipsy: I did all this but o'purpose to shew her let me alone, I'll abuse her worse.

Good. No, sir, but I'll take more care of your reputation, and turn you out to learn, better manners. No resistance, as you tender your ears; but begone. (Exit Mal.) So he's gone, and now I hope I may have some little time to myself.-Fiddles strike up. [Dance.

Tru. Thus, madam, you freely enjoy all the pleasures of a single life, and ease yourself of that wretched formal austerity which commonly attends a married

one.

Mrs. Good. Who would not hate to be one of those simpering saints, that enter into marriage as they would go into a nunnery, where they keep very strict to their devotion for a-while, but at last turn as arrant sinners as ever they were.

Tru. Marriages indeed should be repaired to, as commonly nunneries are, for handsome retreats and conveniences, not for prisons; where those that cannot live without 'em may be safe, yet sometimes venture too abroad a little.

Mrs. Good. But never, sir, without a lady abbess, or a confessor at least.

Tru. Might I, madam, have the honour to be your confessor, I should be very indulgent and lavish of absolution to so pretty a siuner.

Mrs. Good. See, Mr. Goodvile and madam Camilla I believe are at shrift already.

Tru. And poor Ned Valentine looks as pensively as if all the sins of the company were his own.

Mrs. Good. See, Mr. Caper, your mistress.

Cap. Ha, Camilla! Sir, your servant, may I have the honour to lead this lady a coranto?

Good. No, sir, death! surely I have fools that rest and harbour in my house, and they are a worse plague than bugs and moths: shall I never be quiet?

Val. Sir Noble, sir Noble, have a care of your mistress! do you see there?

Clum. Hum-ha-where? oh- [Wakes and rises. Saunt. Nay, faith madam, Harry Caper's as pretty a fellow! "Tis the wittiest rogue: he and I laugh at all the town. Harry, I shall marry her.

Clum. Marry, sir! whom will you marry, sir? you lie. Sweet-heart, come along with me, I'll marry thee myself presently.

Vict. You, sir Noble!--what d'ye mean? [She squeaks. Clum. Mean! honourably, honourably, I mean honourably. These are rogues, my dear, arrant rogues. Come along[Ex. Sir Nob. and Vict.

Cap. Ha, Saunter.—

Saunt. Ay, Caper, ha! let us follow this drunken knight.

Cap. I'faith, and so I will-I don't value him this! [Cuts. [Ex. Cap. and Saunt. Lady Squ. Ha, ha, ha! well, I'll swear my cousin, sir Noble, is a strange pleasant creature. Dear madam, let us follow and see the sport. Mr. Truman, will you walk? O dear, 'tis violent hot.

[Ex. Lady Squ. Tru. and Mrs. G. Val. I'll withdraw too, and at some distance observe how matters are carried between Goodvile and

Camilla.

[Exit

Good. Are you, then, madam, resolved to ruin me? why should all that stock of beauty be thrown away on one that can never be able to deserve the gleanings of it? I love you—

Cam. And all the sex besides. That ever any man should take such pains to forswear himself to no purpose! Good. Nay, then there's hopes yet; if you pretend to doubt the truth of my love, 'tis a sign you have some inclinations at least that are my friends.

Cam. This Goodvile, I see, is one of those spruce polished fools who have so good an opinion of themselves, that they think no woman can resist 'em, nor man of better sense despise 'em. I'll seem at present to comply, and try how far 'twill pass upon him. [Aside. Good. Well, madam, have you considered on't? will the stone in your heart give way?

Cam. No, sir, 'tis full as firm and hard as ever it was. Good. And I may then go hang or drown, or do what

I will with myself? ha!

Cam. At your own discretion, sir, though I should be loth to see so proper a handsome gentleman come to an ill end.

Good. Good charitable creature! but, madam, know I can be revenged on you for this; and my revenge shall be to love you still; gloat on, and loll after you, where'er I see you; in all public meetings haunt and vex you; write lamentable sonnets on you, and so plain, that every fop that sings 'em shall know 'tis you I mean.

Cam. So sir, this is something: could not you as well have told me you had been very ill-natured at first? you did not know how far it might have wrought upon me; besides, 'tis a thousand times better than vowing and bowing, and making a deal of love and noise, and all to as little purpose as any thing you say else.

Good. Right exquisite tyrant! I'll set a watch and guard so strict upon you, you shall not entertain a welldressed fool in private, but I'll know it; then in a lewd lampoon publish it to the town; till you shall repent, and curse the hour you ever saw me.