Lor. There's business for a dagger, stripling; 'tis that should be thy recompence. Cam. Why then, to shew thee naked to the world, and close thy mouth for evermyself thy wife.

cy.

-I am

Lor. What does the dog mean?
Cam. To fall upon the earth and sue for mer-
[Kneels, and lets her periwig fall off.
Lor. A woman!

Lop. Ay -cod, and a pretty one too, you wags you.

Lor. I'm all amazement. Rise, Camillo, (if I am still to call you by that name,) and let me hear the wonders you have for me.

Isu. That part her modesty will ask from me. I'm to inform you then, that this disguise hides other mysteries besides a woman: a large and fair estate was covered by it, which, with the lady, now will be resigned to you. 'Tis true, in justice it was yours before; but 'tis the god of love has done you right. To him you owe this strange discovery; through him you are to know the true Camillo's dead, and that this fair adven. turer is daughter to Alvarez,

Lor. Incredible! but go on; let me hear more. Fel. She'll tell thee the rest herself, the next dark night she meets thee in the garden.

Lor. The proof she gives me of her love deserves a large acknowledgment indeed. Forgive me, therefore, Leonora, if what I owe this goodness and these charms, I, with my utmost care, my life, my soul, endeavour to repay.

Cam. Is it then possible you can forgive me? Lor. Indeed I can: few crimes have such a claim to mercy; but join with me then, dear Camillo, (for still I know you by no other name ;) join with me to obtain your father's pardon: Yours, Leonora, too, I must implore; and yours, my friend, for now we may be such. [To CARLOS.] Of all I ask forgiveness. And since there is so fair a cause of all my wild mistakes, I hope I, by her interest, shall obtain it.

Alo. You have a claim to mine, Lorenzo; I wish I had so strong a one to yours; but if by future services (though I lay down my life amongst 'em) I may blot out of your remembrance a fault, (I cannot name,) I then shall leave the world in

peace.

Lor. In peace then, sir, enjoy it; for from this very hour, whate'er is past with me, is gone for ever. Your daughter is too fair a mediatrix to be refused his pardon, to whom she owes the charms she pleads with for it.

From this good day, then, let all discord cease; Let those to come be harmony and peace: Henceforth let all our diff'rent interests join; Let fathers, lovers, friends, let all combine To make each other's days as blest as she will mine. [Exeunt.

I'm thinking, now good husbands are so few,
To get one for my friend what I must do.
Camillo ventur'd hard, yet, at the worst,
She stole love's honey-moon, and try'd her lover
first.

Many poor damsels, if they dar'd to tell,

Have done as much, but have not 'scaped so well.
'Tis well the scene's in Spain: thus, in the dark,
I should be loath to trust a London spark.
Some accident might, for a private reason,
Silence a female all this acting season.
Hard fate of woman! Any one wou'd vex
To think what odds you men have of our sex.

Restraint and custom share our inclination;
You men can try, and run o'er half the nation.
We dare not, even to avoid reproach,
When you're at White's, peep out of hackney-
coach;

Nor with a friend at night, our fame regarding,
With glass drawn up, drive 'bout Covent-Garden.
If poor town-ladies steal in here, you rail,
Though like chaste nuns their modest looks they
veil;

With this decorum, they can hardly gain

To be thought virtuous, e'en in Drury-Lane.

Though this you'll not allow, yet sure you may
A plot to snap you, in an honest way.
In love affairs one scarce would spare a brother:
All cheat; and married folks may keep a pother,
But look as if they cheated one another.
You may pretend our sex dissembles most,
But of your truth none have much cause to boast:
You promise bravely, but, for all your storming,
We find you're not so valiant at performing.

Then sure Camillo's conduct you'll approve: Wou'd you not do as much for one you love? Wedlock's but a blind bargain at the best, You venture more sometimes, to be not half so blest.

All, soon or late, that dangerous venture make, And some of you may make a worse mistake.

BY

THIS play took birth from principles of truth,
To make amends for errors past, of youth.
A bard, that's now no more, in riper days,
Conscious reviewed the licence of his plays;
And though applause his wanton muse had fired,
Himself condemned what sensual minds admired.
At length he owned that plays should let you

see

Not only what you are, but ought to be:
Though vice was natural, 'twas never meant
The stage should shew it, but for punishment!
Warm with that thought, his muse once more
took flame,

Resolved to bring licentious life to shame.
Such was the piece his latest pen design'd,
But left no traces of his plan behind.

Luxuriant scenes, unprun'd, or half contrived;
Yet through the mass his native fire survived:
Rough as rich ore, in mines the treasure lay,
Yet still 'twas rich, and forms at length a play,
In which the bold compiler boasts no merit,
But that his pains have saved your scenes of
spirit;

Not scenes that would a noisy joy impart,
But such as hush the mind, and warm the heart.
From praise of hands no sure account he draws,
But fix'd attention is sincere applause.

If then (for hard you'll own the task) his art
Can to those embryon-scenes new life impart,
The living proudly would exclude his lays,
And to the buried bard resigns the praise.

perhaps, in her gaieté de cœur, toast a pretty fellow-then clatter again to this end of the town, break, with the morning, into an assembly, crowd to the hazard-table, throw a familiar levant upon some sharp lurching man of quality, and if he demands his money, turn it off with a loud laugh, and cry—you'll owe it him, to vex him! ha, ha!

Ld Town. Prodigious!

were I weak enough to love this man, I should never get a single guinea from him. [Aside. Ld Town. If it be no offence, madam-Lady Town. Say what you please, my lord; I am in that harmony of spirits, it is impossible to put me out of humour.

Ld Town. How long, in reason, then, do you think that sum ought to last you?

Ld Town. Death, madam! what law has made these liberties less scandalous in a wife than in an unmarried woman?

Lady Town. Why, the strongest law in the world-custom--Custom, time out of mind, my

lord.

Ld Town. Custom, madam, is the law of fools, but it shall never govern me.

Lady Town. Nay, then, my lord, 'tis time for me to observe the laws of prudence.

Ld Town. I wish I could see an instance of it. Lady Town. You shall have one this moment, my lord; for I think, when a man begins to lose his temper at home, if a woman has any prudence, why she'll go abroad 'till he comes to himself again. [Going. Ld Town. Hold, madam- -I am amaz'd you are not more uneasy at the life you lead! You don't want sense, and yet seem void of all humanity; for with a blush I say it, I think I have not wanted love.

Lady Town. Oh! don't say that, my lord, if you suppose I have my senses.

Ld Town. What is it I have done to you? What can you complain of?

Lady Town. Oh! nothing in the least. 'Tis true, you have heard me say I have owed my lord Lurcher an hundred pound these three weeks —but what then-a husband is not liable to his wife's debts of honour, you know--and if a silly woman will be uneasy about money she can't be sued for, what's that to him? As long as he loves her, to be sure, she can have nothing to complain of.

Ld Town By Heaven, if my whole fortune thrown into your lap could make you delight in the cheerful duties of a wife, I should think myself a gainer by the purchase.

Lady Town. That is, my lord, I might receive your whole estate, provided you were sure I wou'd not spend a shilling of it.

Ld Town. No, madam; were I master of your heart, your pleasures would be mine; but different as they are, I'll feed even your follies, to deserve it--Perhaps you may have some other trifling debts of honour abroad, that keep you out of humour at home--at least it shall not be my fault, if I have not more of your company.There, there's a bill of five hundred- and now, madam——

Lady Town. And now, my lord, down to the ground I thank you--Now am I convinced,

pends upon fortune? But to shew you that I am inore inclined to get money than throw it away-I have a strong possession, that with this five hundred I shall win five thousand.

Ld Town. Madam, if you were to win ten thousand, it would be no satisfaction to me.

Lady Town. O! the churl! Ten thousand! What! not so much as wish I might win ten thousand !--Ten thousand! O! the charming sum! What infinite pretty things might a woman of spirit do with ten thousand guineas! O' my conscience, if she were a woman of true spiritshe-she might lose 'em all again.

Ld Town. And I had rather it should be so, madam, provided I could be sure that were the last you would lose.

Lady Town. Well, my lord, to let you see I design to play all the good housewife I can, I am now going to a party at quadrille, only to piddle with a little of it, at poor two guineas a fish, with the duchess of Quiteright.

[Exit Lady ToWNLY.

Ld Town. Insensible creature! neither reproaches or indulgencies, kindness or severity, can wake her to the least reflection! Continual licence has lull'd her into such a lethargy of care, that she speaks of her excesses with the same easy confidence, as if they were so many virtues. What a turn has her head taken!-But how to cure it--I am afraid the physic must be strong that reaches her--Lenitives, I see, are to no purpose---Take my friends' opinion--Manly will speak freely-my sister with tenderness to both sides- -They know my case- -I'll talk with 'em.

nter a Servant.

Serv. Mr Manly, my lord, has sent to know if your lordship was at home.

Ld Town. They did not deny me?
Serv. No, my lord.

Ld Town. Very well; step up to my sister, and say I desire to speak with her.

Serv. Lady Grace is here, my lord. [Exit Serv.

Enter Lady GRACE.

Ld Town So, lady fair; what pretty weapon have you been killing your time with?

L. Grace. A huge folio, that has almost killed me-I think I have half read my eyes out.

Ld Town. O! you should not pore so much just after dinner, child.

L. Grace. That's true, but any body's thoughts are better than always one's own, you know.