I must confess, I counselled Sancho's murder,
And urged the queen by specious arguments;
But, still suspecting that her love was changed,
I spread abroad the rumour of his death,
To sound the very soul of her designs:
The event, you know, was answering to my fears:
She threw the odium of the fact on me,
And publicly avowed her love to you.

Ray. Heaven guided all to save the innocent.
Bert. I plead no merit, but a bare forgiveness.
Tor. Not only that, but favour: Sancho's life,

THERE'S none, I'm sure, who is a friend to love,
But will our friar's character approve :
The ablest spark among you sometimes needs
Such pious help, for charitable deeds.
Our church, alas! (as Rome objects) does want
These ghostly comforts for the falling saint:
This gains them their whore-converts, and may

be

One reason of the growth of popery.
So Mahomet's religion came in fashion
By the large leave it gave to fornication.
Fear not the guilt, if you can pay for't well;
There is no Dives in the Roman hell.
Gold opens the strait gate, and lets him in ;
But want of money is a mortal sin.
For all besides you may discount to heaven,
And drop a bead to keep the tallies even.
How are men cozen'd still with shows of good!
The bawd's best mask is the grave friar's hood.
Though vice no more a clergyman displeases,
Than doctors can be thought to hate diseases.
'Tis by your living ill, that they live well;

By your debauches their fat paunches swell.

| 'Tis a mock war between the priest and devil;
When they think fit, they can be very civil.
As some, who did French counsels most advance,
To blind the world, have rail'd in print at France.
Thus do the clergy at your vices bawl,
That with more ease they may engross them all.
By damning yours, they do their own maintain,
A churchman's godliness is always gain.
Hence to their prince they will superior be;
And civil treason grows church loyalty.
They boast the gift of heaven is in their power;
Well may they give the god they can devour.
Still to the sick and dead their claims they lay;
For 'tis on carrion that the vermin prey.
Nor have they less dominion on our life,
They trot the husband, and they pace the wife.
Rouse up, you cuckolds of the northern climes,
And learn from Sweden to prevent such crimes.
Unman the friar, and leave the holy drone
To hum in his forsaken hive alone:
He'll work no honey when his sting is gone.
Your wives and daughters soon will leave the cells,
When they have lost the sound of Aaron's bells.

BY

SINCE plays are but a kind of public feasts Where tickets only make the welcome guests; Methinks, instead of grace, we should prepare Your tastes in prologues, with your bill of fare. When you foreknow each course, tho' this may teize you,

'Tis five to one, but each o' th' five may please you.

First, for your critics, we've your darling cheer, Faults without number, more than sense can bear; You're certain to be pleased where errors are. From your displeasure I dare vouch we're safe, You never frown, but where your neighbours laugh.

Now you that never know what spleen or hate is, Who, for an act or two, are welcome gratis, That tip the wink, and so sneak out with numquam satis:

Ant. And what came you before for? Mons. Sire, me come to provide de pulville, and de essence for his peruque, dat he may approche to your vorshipe vid de reverence and de belle air.

Ant. What, is he unprovided, then?

Mons. Sire, he vas enragé, and did break his bottel d'orangerie, because it vas not de same dat is prepare for Monseigneur le Dauphin.

Ant. Well, sir, if you'll go to the butler, he'll help you to some oil for his periwig. Mons. Sire, me tank you. [Exit MONS. Cha. A very notable spark, this Clodio. Ha! what noise is that without?

Enter a Servant.

Ser. Sir, my young masters are both come. Ant. That's well! Now, sir, now! now observe their several dispositions.

Enter CARLOS.

Car. My father! sir, your blessing.

Aut. Thou hast it, Carlos; and now, pray know this gentleman, Charino, sir, my old friend, and one in whom you may have a particular interest.

Cur. I'll study to deserve his love, sir. Cha. Sir, as for that matter, you need not study at all. [They salute. Clo. [Within.] Hey! La Valiere! bid the groom take care our hunters be well rubbed and clothed; they're hot, and have outstripped the wind.

Cha. Ay, marry, sir, there's mettle in this young fellow.

Enter CLODIO.

Clo. Where's my father?

Ant. Ha, my dear Clody, thou'rt welcome! Clo. Sir, being my father's friend, I am your most obliged, faithful, humble servant. [To CHA. Cha. Sir- -I-I-I like you. [Eagerly. Clo. Thy hand.

Cha. Faith, thou art a pretty-humoured fellow.
Clo. Who's that? Pray, sir, who's that?
Ant. Your brother, Clody.

Clo. Odso! I beg his pardon with all my heart -Ha, ha, ha! Did ever mortal see such a bookworm!-Brother, how is't? [Carelessly. Car. I'm glad you are well, brother. [Reads. Clo. What, does he draw his book upon me? Then I will draw my wit upon him- -Gad, I'll puzzle him-Hark you, brother; pray, what'slatin for a sword-knot?

Car. The Romans wore none, brother. Clo. No ornament upon their swords, sir? Car. Oh, yes, several: conquest, peace, and honour-an old unfashionable wear.

Clo. Sir, no man in France (I may as well say breathing; for not to live there, is not to breathe) wears a more fashionable sword than I do; he cost me fifteen louis d'ors in Paris-There, sir, -feel him-try him, sir.

make a coward fight-Aha! sa, sa! ha! ripha! there I had him. [Fencing.

Car. Take heed; you'll cut my clothes, brother. Clo. Cut 'em! Ha, ha!-no, no, they are cut already, brother, to the grammar rules exactly.' Psha! pr'ythee, man, leave off this college-air. Car. No, brother, I think it wholesome; the soil and situation pleasant.

Clo. A put, by Jupiter! He don't know the air of a gentleman from the air of the country -Sir, I mean the air of your clothes; I would have you change your tailor, and dress a little more en cavalier: lay by your book, and take out your snuff-box; cock, and look smart, ha!

Cha. Faith, a pretty fellow.

Car. I read no use in this, brother; and for my clothes, the half of what I wear already seems to me superfluous. What need I outward ornaments, when I can deck myself with understanding? Why should we care for any thing but knowledge? Or look upon the follies of mankind, but to condemn or pity those that seek them?

[Reads again.

Clo. Stark mad, split me ! Cha. Psha! this fellow will never do--he has no soul in him.

Clo. Hark you, brother, what do you think of a pretty, plump wench now?

Cur. I seldom think that way: women are books I have not read yet.

Clo. Gad, I could set you a sweet lesson, bro

ther.

Car. I am as well here, sir.

[Reads.

Cha. Good for no earthly thing-a stockAh, that Clody!

Enter MONSieur.

Mons. Sire, here be de several sort of de jessamine d'orangerie vidout, if you please to make your choice.

Clo. Mum.-Sir, I must beg pardon for a moment; a most important business calls me aside, which I will dispatch with all imaginable celerity, and return to the repetition of my desire to continue, sir, your most obliged, and faithful humble servant. [Exit CLO. bowing.

Cha. Faith, he's a pretty fellow. Ant. Now, sir, if you please, since we have got the other alone, we'll put the matter a little closer to him.

Cha. 'Tis to little purpose, I'm afraid: but use your pleasure, sir.

Car. Plato differs from Socrates in this. [To himself. Ant. Come, come, pr'ythee, Charles, lay them by, let them agree at leisure-What, no hour of interruption?

Car. Man's life, sir, being so short, and then the way that leads us to the knowledge of ourselves so hard and tedious, each minute should be precious.

Cur. I have no skill, sir.

land's fit for the plough; what for pasture; to buy and sell my stock to the best advantage; and cure my cattle when they are overgrown with labour. This, now, would turn to some account. Car. This, sir, may be done from what I've read; for, what concerns tillage, who can better deliver it than Virgil in his Georgics? And, for the cure of herds, his Bucolics are a masterpiece; but when his art describes the commonwealth of bees, their industry, their more than human knowledge of the herbs from which they gather honey; their laws, their government among themselves, their order in going forth, and coming laden home, their strict obedience to their king, his just rewards to such as labour, his punishment, inflicted only on the slothful drone; I'm ravished with it: then reap, indeed, my harvest, receive the grain my cattle bring me, and there find wax and honey.

Ant. Hey-day! Georges, and Blue-sticks, and bces-wax! What, art thou mad?

Cha. Raving, raving!

Car. No, sir, the knowledge of this guards me from it.

Ant. But can you find, amongst all your musty manuscripts, what pleasure he enjoys, that lies in the arms of a young, rich, well-shaped, healthy bride? Answer me that, ha, sir!

Cur. 'Tis frequent, sir, in story; there I read of all kinds of virtuous and of vicious women; the ancient Spartan dames, the Roman ladies, their beauties, their deformities; and when I light upon a Portia, or a Cornelia, crowned with ever-blooming truth and virtue, with such a feeling I peruse their fortunes, as if I then had lived, and tasted of their lawful, envied love. But when I meet a Messalina, tired and unsated in her foul desires; a Clytemnestra, bathed in her husband's blood; an impious Tullia, whirling her chariot over her father's breathless body, horror invades my faculties. Comparing, then, the numerous guilty, with the easy count of those that die in innocence, I detest and loath them as ignorance, or atheism.

Ant. And you do resolve, then, not to make payment of the debt you owe me?

Car. What debt, good sir?

Ant. Why, the debt I paid my father, when I got you, sir, and made him a grandsire; which I expect from you. I won't have my name die.

Car. Nor would I; my laboured studies, sir, may prove in time a living issue.

Ant. Very well, sir: and so I shall have a general collection of all the quiddits, from Adam till this time, to be my grandchild.

Car. I'll take my best care, sir, that what I leave, mayn't shame the family.

Cha A sad fellow, this! this is a very sad fellow ! [Aside. Ant. So, in short, you would not marry an empress ?

Cur. Give me leave to enjoy myself. The closet, that contains my chosen books, to me's a glorious court; my venerable companions there,

the old sages and philosophers, sometimes the greatest kings and heroes, whose counsels I have leave to weigh, and call their victories, if unjustly got, unto a strict account, and, in my fancy, dare deface their ill-placed statues. Can I then part with solid, constant pleasures, to clasp uncertain vanities? No, sir, be it your care to swell your heap of wealth: marry my brother, and let him get you bodies of your name; I rather would inform it with a soul. I tire you, sir your pardon and your leave. Lights there for my study. (Exit CARLOS.

Ant. Was ever man thus transported from the common sense of his own happiness! a stupid wise rogue! I could beat him. Now, if it were not for my hopes in young Clody, I might fairly conclude my name were at a period.

Cha. Ay, ay, he's the match for my money, and my girl's too, I warrant her. What say you, sir, shall we tell them a piece of our mind, and turn them together instantly?

Ant. This minute, sir; and here comes my young rogue, in the very nick of his fortune. Enter CLODIO.

San. I doubt my master has found but rough welcome; he's gone supperless into his study; I'd fain know the reason-it may be, somebody has borrowed one of his books, or so-I must find it out. [Stands aside.

Clo. Sir, you could not have started any thing more agreeable to my inclination; and for the young lady's, sir, if this old gentleman will please to give me a sight of her, you shall see me whip into her's, in the cutting of a caper.

Cha. Well, pursue and conquer; though, let me tell you, sir, my girl has wit, and will give you as good as you bring; she has a smart way, sir.

Clo. Sir, I will be as smart as she; I have my share of courage; I fear no woman alive, sir, having always found that love and assurance ought to be as inseparable companions as a beau and a snuff-box, or a curate and a tobacco-stopper.

Cha. Faith, thou art a pleasant rogue! 'Egad she must like thee.

Clo. I know how to tickle the ladies, sir-in Paris, I had constantly two challenges every morning came up with my chocolate, only for being pleasant company the night before with the first ladies of quality.

Cha. Ah, silly enviotis rogues! Pr'ythee, what do you do to the ladies? Sun. Positively, nothing.

[Aside.