contrary to that soft, humble, pliant, easy thing, a lover, so guess at plagues in matrimony, in opposition to the pleasures of courtship. Alas! courtship to marriage, is but as the music in the playhouse, till the curtain's drawn ; but that once up, then opens the scene of pleasure.

Belin. Oh, foh-no: rather, courtship to marriage, is a very witty prologue to a very dull play.

Enter SHARPER.

Sharp. Hist, Bellmour! if you'll bring the ladies, make haste to Silvia's lodgings, before Heartwell has fretted himself out of breath.-I'm in haste now, but I'll come in at the catastrophe.

[Exit. Bell. You have an opportunity now, madam, to revenge yourself upon Heartwell, for affronting your squirrel. [TO BELINDA.

Belin. O the filthy rude beast! Aram. 'Tis a lasting quarrel: I think he has never been at our house since.

Bell. But give yourselves the trouble to walk to that corner-house, and I'll tell you by the way what may divert and surprise you. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.-Changes to SILVIA's Lodging.

Enter HEARTWELL and Boy.

Heart. Gone forth, say you, with her maid? Boy. There was a man, too, that fetched 'em out-Setter, I think, they called him.

Heart. So-h-That precious pimp tooDamn'd, damn'd strumpet! Could she not contain herself on her wedding-day! Not hold out till night! Leave me. [Exit Boy.] O cursed state! How wide we err, when, apprehensive of the load of life,

-We hope to find That help which nature meant in woman-kind! To man that supplemental self design'd, But proves a burning caustic when apply'd; And Adam sure could, with more ease, abide The bone when broken, than when made a bride.

Enter BELLMOUR, BELINDA, VAINLOVE, and ARAMINTA.

Bell. Now, George! what, rhyming? I thought the chimes of verse were past, when once the doleful marriage-knell was rung

Heart, Shame and confusion! I am exposed. [VAINLOVE and ARAMINTA talk apart. Belin. Joy, joy, Mr Bridegroom! I give you joy, sir!

"Heart. 'Tis not in thy nature to give me joy— A woman can as soon give immortality.

Belin. Ha, ha, ha!-O Gad! men grow such clowns when they are married

Bell. That they are fit for no company but their wives.

Belin. Nor for them neither, in a little time I swear, at the month's end, you shall hardly find a married man that will do a civil thing to his

Bell. Hold, hold !-What the devil, thou wilt not draw upon a woman!

Vain. What's the matter?

Aram. Bless me! what have you done to him? Belin. Only touched a gall'd beast till he winced.

Vain. Bellmour, give it over; you vex him too much; 'tis all serious to him.

Belin. Nay, I swear, I begin to pity him myself. Heart. Damn your pity!-But let me be calmi a little-How have I deserved this of you? Any of ye?-Sir, have I impaired the honour of your house, promised your sister marriage, and whored her? Wherein have I injured you? Did I bring a physician to your father, when he lay expiring, and endeavour to prolong his life, and you oneand-twenty?-Madam, have I had an opportunity with you and baulked it? Did you ever offer me the favour that I refused it? Őr

Belin. Oh foh! What does the filthy fellow mean? Lard, let me be gone!

Aram. Hang me if I pity you; you are right enough served.

Bell. This is a little scurrilous though. Vain. Nay, 'tis a sore of your own scratching -Well, George,

Heart. You are the principal cause of all my present ills. If Silvia had not been your whore, my wife might have been honest.

Vain. And if Silvia had not been your wife, my whore might have been just-There we are even-But have a good heart: I heard of your misfortune, and come to your relief.

Heart. When execution's over, you offer a reprieve.

Vain. What would you give?

Heart. Oh! any thing, every thing, a leg or an arm: Nay, I would be divorced from my virility, to be divorced from my wife.

full and free discharge to Sir Joseph Wittol and Captain Bluffe, for all injuries whatsoever done unto you by them, until the present date hereof -How say you? Vain. Agreed.

Sharp. Then let me beg these ladies to wear their masks a moment. [Exit.

Heart. What the devil's all this to me?
Vain. Patience.

Re-enter SHARPER, with Sir Joseph, Bluffe,
SILVIA, LUCY, and SETTER.

Bluff. All injuries whatsoever, Mr Sharper. Sir Jos. Ay, ay, whatsoever, captain! stick to that;-whatsoever!

Sharp. 'Tis done; those gentlemen are witnesses to the general release.

Vain. Ay, ay, to this instant moment-I have past an act of oblivion.

Bluff. 'Tis very generous, sir, since I needs

must own

Sir Jos. No, no, captain, you need not own, heh, heh, heh! 'Tis I must own.

Bluff. That you are over-reach'd too, ha, ha, ha! Only a little art military used-only undermined, or so, as shall appear by the fair Araminta, my wife's permission. Oh, the devil, cheated at last! [LUCY unmasks.

Sir Jos. Only a little art military trick, captain; only countermined, or so- —Mr Vainlove, I suppose you know whom I have got-now-but all's forgiven.

Vain. I know whom you have not got; pray, ladies, convince him.

[ARAMINTA and BELINDA unmask. Sir Jos. Ah! O Lord, my heart aches-Ah! Setter, a rogue of all sides.

Sharp. Sir Joseph, you had better have preengaged this gentleman's pardon: For, though Vainlove be so generous to forgive the loss of his mistress, I know not how Heartwell may take the loss of his wife. [SILVIA unmasks. Heart. My wife! By this light 'tis she, the very cockatrice- -Oh, Sharper! let me embrace thee-But art thou sure she is really married to him?

Set. Really and lawfully married, I am witness. Sharp. Bellmour will unriddle to you.

[HEARTWELL goes to BELLMOUR. Sir Jos. Pray, madam, who are you? for I find you and I are like to be better acquainted. Silv. The worst of me is, that I am your wife

Sharp. Come, Sir Joseph, your fortune is not so bad as you fear-A fine lady, and a lady of very good quality.

Sir Jos. Thanks to my knighthood, she's a lady

Vain. That deserves a fool with a better title -Pray use her as my relation, or you shall hear on't.

Bluff. What, are you a woman of quality too, spouse?

Set. And my relation; pray let her be respected accordingly-Well, honest Lucy, fare thee well-I think you and I have been play-fellows off and on, any time this seven years.

Lucy. Hold your prating- -I'm thinking what vocation I shall follow, while my spouse is planting laurels in the wars.

Bluff. No more wars; spouse, no more warsWhile I plant laurels for my head abroad, I may find the branches sprout at home.

Heart. Bellmour, I approve thy mirth, and thank thee And I cannot in gratitude (for I see which way thou art going) see thee fall into the same snare, out of which thou hast deliver'd me.

Bell. I thank thee, George, for thy good intention-But there is a fatality in marriage-For

I find I'm resolute.

Heart. Then good counsel will be thrown away upon you-For my part I have once escaped; and when I wed again, may she be-ugly as an old bawd.

Vain. Ill-natured as an old maid-
Bell. Wanton as a young widow-
Sharp. And jealous as a barren wife.
Heart. Agreed.

Bell. Well; 'midst of these dreadful denunciations, and notwithstanding the warning and example before me, I commit myself to lasting du

rance.

Belin. Prisoner, make much of your fetters. [Giving her hand. Bell. Frank, will you keep us in countenance? Vain. May I presume to hope so great a blessing?

Aram. We had better take the advantage of a little of our friend's experience first.

Bell. O' my conscience she dare not consent, for fear he should recant. [Aside.] Well, we shall have your company to church in the morning— May be it may get you an appetite, to see us fall to before ye. Setter, did not you tell me

Set. They're at the door : I'll call 'em in.

[A Dance. Bell. Now set me forward on a journey for life- -Come, take your fellow-travellers. Old George, I'm sorry to see thee still plod on alone. Heart. With gaudy plumes and jingling bells

made proud,

The youthful beast sets forth, and neighs aloud.
A morning sun his tinsell'd harness gilds,
And the first stage a down-hill green-sward yields.
But, oh-

What rugged ways attend the noon of life!
Our sun declines, and with what anxious strife,
What pain, we tug that galling load, a wife.
All coursers the first heat with vigour run;
But 'tis with whip and spur the race is won.

[Exeunt omnes:

As a rash girl, who will all hazards run,
And be enjoy'd, though sure to be undone ;
Soon as her curiosity is over,

Would give the world she could her toy recover :
So fares it with our poet; and I'm sent
To tell you, he already does repent:
Would you were all as forward to keep Lent.
Now the deed's done, the giddy thing has leisure
To think o'th' sting that's in the tail of pleasure.
Methinks I hear him in consideration!

What will the world say? Where's my reputation?

Now that's at stake-No, fool, 'tis out of fa

shion.

If loss of that should follow want of wit,
How many undone men were in the pit!
Why that's some comfort to an author's fears,
If he's an ass, he will be tried by peers.

But hold-I am exceeding my commission;
My business here was humbly to petition :
But we're so used to rail on these occasions,
I could not help one trial of your patience :
For 'tis our way, you know, for fear o'th' worst,
To be before-hand still, and cry fool first.
How say you, sparks? How do you stand af-
fected?

I swear young Bays within is so dejected,
'Twould grieve your hearts to see him; shall I
call him?

But then you cruel critics would so maul him!
Yet, may be, you'll encourage a beginner;
But how?-Just as the devil does a sinner.
Women and wits are used e'en much as one,
You gain your ends, and damn 'em when you've
done.

BY

MOORS have this way (as story tells) to know
Whether their brats are truly got or no:
Into the sea the new-born babe is thrown,
There, as instinct directs, to swim or drown.
A barbarous device, to try if spouse
Has kept religiously her nuptial vows.

Such are the trials poets make of plays;
Only they trust to more inconstant seas;
So does our author this his child commit
To the tempestuous mercy of the pit,
To know if it be truly born of wit.
Critics, avaunt! for you are fish of prey,
And feed, like sharks, upon an infant play.
Be ev'ry monster of the deep away;
Let's have fair trial, and a clear sea.

Let nature work, and do not damn too soon, For life will struggle long, ere it sink down; And will at least rise thrice before it drown.

Let us consider, had it been our fate,
Thus hardly to be proved legitimate!
I will not say we'd all in danger been,
Were each to suffer for his mother's sin:
But by my troth I cannot avoid thinking,
How nearly some good men might have 'scaped
sinking.

But, Heaven be praised, this custom is confined
Alone to the offspring of the muses' kind :
Our christian cuckolds are more bent to pity;
I know not one Moor-husband in the city.
I'th' good man's arms the chopping bastard thrives,
For he thinks all his own that is his wife's.

Whatever fate is for this play designed,
The poet's sure he shall some comfort find:
For if his muse has play'd him false, the worst
That can befall him is,-to be divorced;
You husbands judge, if that be to be cursed.

MEN.

MASKWELL, a Villain; pretended Friend to Mellefont, Gallant to Lady Touchwood, and in love with Cynthia.

Lord TOUCHWOOD, Uncle to Mellefont.

Knight; Brother to Lady Touchwood, and Father to Cynthia.

WOMEN.

Lady TOUCHWOOD, in love with Mellefont.

Wife, promised to Mellefont.

Lady FROTH, a great Coquet; Pretender to Poetry, Wit, and Learning.

Lady PLYANT, insolent to her Husband, and easy to any Pretender.