Chapter II: Part 2

_Aman._ Those Flights of Flattery, Sir, are to our Faces only: When Women once are out of hearing, you are as modest in your Commendations as we are. But I shan't put you to the trouble of farther Excuses; if you please, this Business shall rest here. Only give me leave to wish, both for your Peace and mine, that you may never meet this Miracle of Beauty more.

_Lov._ I am content.

_Enter Servant._

_Serv._ Madam, there's a young Lady at the door in a Chair, desires to know whether your Ladyship sees Company. I think her Name is _Berinthia_.

_Aman._ O dear! 'tis a Relation I have not seen this five Years. Pray her to walk in.

[_Exit Servant._

_To Lov._] Here's another Beauty for you. She was young when I saw her last; but I hear she's grown extremely handsome.

_Lov._ Don't you be jealous now, for I shall gaze upon her too.

_Enter ~Berinthia~._

_Lov._ [_Aside._] Ha! By Heavens, the very Woman!

_Ber._ [_Saluting Aman._] Dear _Amanda_, I did not expect to meet with you in Town.

_Aman._ Sweet Cousin, I'm overjoy'd to see you. [_To Lov._] Mr. _Loveless_, here's a Relation and a Friend of mine, I desire you'll be better acquainted with.

_Lov._ [_Saluting Ber._] If my Wife never desires a harder thing, Madam, her Request will be easily granted.

_Ber._ [_To Aman._] I think, Madam, I ought to wish you Joy.

_Aman._ Joy! Upon what?

_Ber._ Upon your Marriage: You were a Widow when I saw you last.

_Lov._ You ought rather, Madam, to wish me Joy upon that, since I am the only Gainer.

_Ber._ If she has got so good a Husband as the World reports, she has gain'd enough to expect the Compliment of her Friends upon it.

_Lov._ If the World is so favourable to me, to allow I deserve that Title, I hope 'tis so just to my Wife, to own I derive it from her.

_Ber._ Sir, it is so just to you both, to own you are, and deserve to be, the happiest Pair that live in it.

_Lov._ I'm afraid we shall lose that Character, Madam, whenever you happen to change your Condition.

_Enter Servant._

_Ser._ Sir, my Lord _Foppington_ presents his humble Service to you, and desires to know how you do. He but just now heard you were in Town. He's at the next Door; and if it be not inconvenient, he'll come and wait upon you.

_Lov._ Lord _Foppington_!--I know him not.

_Ber._ Not his Dignity, perhaps, but you do his Person. 'Tis Sir _Novelty_; he has bought a Barony, in order to marry a great Fortune: His Patent has not been pass'd above eight-and-forty-Hours, and he has already sent How do-ye's to all the Town, to make 'em acquainted with his Title.

_Lov._ Give my Service to his Lordship, and let him know, I am proud of the Honour he intends me.

[_Ex._.

_Ser._ Sure this Addition of Quality must have so improv'd this Coxcomb, he can't but be very good Company for a quarter of an Hour.

_Aman._ Now it moves my Pity more than my Mirth, to see a Man whom Nature has made no Fool, be so very industrious to pass for an Ass.

_Lov._ No, there you are wrong, _Amanda_; you shou'd never bestow your Pity upon those who take pains for your Contempt; Pity those whom Nature abuses, but never those who abuse Nature.

_Ber._ Besides, the Town wou'd be robb'd of one of its chiefest Diversions, if it shou'd become a Crime to laugh at a Fool.

_Aman._ I could never yet perceive the Town inclin'd to part with any of its Diversions, for the sake of their being Crimes; but I have seen it very fond of some, I think, had little else to recommend 'em.

_Ber._ I doubt, _Amanda_, you are grown its Enemy, you speak with so much warmth against it.

_Aman._ I must confess I am not much its Friend.

_Ber._ Then give me leave to make you mine, by not engaging in its Quarrel.

_Aman._ You have many stronger Claims than that, _Berinthia_, whenever you think fit to plead your Title.

_Lov._ You have done well to engage a Second, my Dear; for here comes one will be apt to call you to an Account for your Country Principles.

_Enter Lord_ Foppington.

_Lord Fop._ [_To Lov._] Sir, I am your most humble Servant.

_Lav._ I wish you Joy, my Lord.

_Lord Fop._ O Laird, Sir----Madam, your Ladyship's welcome to Tawn.

_Aman._ I wish your Lordship Joy.

_Lord Fop._ O Heavens, Madam----

_Lov._ My Lord, this young Lady is a Relation of my Wife's.

_Lord Fop._ [_Saluting her._] The beautifullest Race of People upon Earth, Rat me. Dear _Loveless_, I am overjoy'd to see you have brought your Family to Tawn again: I am, stap my Vitals--[_Aside._] For I design to lie with your Wife. [_To Aman._] Far Gad's sake, Madam, haw has your Ladyship been able to subsist thus long, under the Fatigue of a Country Life?

_Aman._ My life has been very far from that, my Lord, it has been a very quiet one.

_Lord Fop._ Why that's the Fatigue I speak of, Madam: For 'tis impossible to be quiet, without thinking: Now thinking is to me the greatest Fatigue in the World.

_Aman._ Does not your Lordship love reading then?

_Lord Fop._ Oh, passionately, Madam----But I never think of what I read.

_Ber._ Why, can your Lordship read without thinking?

_Lord Fop._ O Lard----Can your Ladyship pray without Devotion----Madam?

_Aman._ Well, I must own I think Books the best Entertainment in the World.

_Lord Fop._ I am so much of your Ladyship's Mind, Madam, that I have a private Gallery, where I walk sometimes, is furnished with nothing but Books and Looking-glasses. Madam, I have gilded them, and rang'd 'em, so prettily, before Gad, it is the most entertaining thing in the World to walk and look upon 'em.

_Aman._ Nay, I love a neat Library too; but 'tis, I think, the inside of a Book shou'd recommend it most to us.

_Lord Fop._ That, I must confess, I am not altogether so fand of. Far to my mind the Inside of a Book, is to entertain one's self with the forc'd Product of another Man's Brain. Naw I think a Man of Quality and Breeding may be much diverted with the natural Sprauts of his own. But to say the truth, Madam, let a Man love reading never so well, when once he comes to know this Tawn, he finds so many better ways of passing away the Four-and-twenty Hours, that 'twere ten thousand Pities he shou'd consume his time in that. Far example, Madam, my Life; my Life, Madam, is a perpetual Stream of Pleasure, that glides thro' such a Variety of Entertainments, I believe the wisest of our Ancestors never had the least Conception of any of 'em.

I rise, Madam, about ten o'clock. I don't rise sooner, because 'tis the worst thing in the World for the Complection; nat that I pretend to be a Beau; but a Man must endeavour to look wholesome, lest he make to nauseous a Figure in the Side-bax, the Ladies shou'd be compell'd to turn their eyes upon the Play. So at Ten o'clock, I say, I rise. Naw, if I find it a good Day, I resalve to take a Turn in the Park, and see the fine Women; so huddle on my Clothes, and get dress'd by One. If it be nasty Weather, I take a Turn in the Chocolate-house; where, as you walk, Madam, you have the prettiest Prospect in the World; you have Looking-glasses all round you----But I'm afraid I tire the Company.

_Ber._ Not at all. Pray go on.

_Lord Fop._ Why then, Ladies, from thence I go to Dinner at _Lacket_'s, and there you are so nicely and delicately serv'd, that, stap my Vitals, they can compose you a Dish, no bigger than a Saucer, shall come to fifty Shillings; between eating my Dinner, and washing my Mouth, Ladies, I spend my time, till I go to the Play; where, till Nine o'clock, I entertain myself with looking upon the Company; and usually dispose of one Hour more in leading them aut. So there's Twelve of the Four-and-Twenty pretty well over. The other Twelve, Madam, are disposed of in two Articles: In the first Four I toast myself drunk, and in t'other Eight I sleep myself sober again. Thus, Ladies, you see my Life is an eternal raund O of Delights.

_Lov._ 'Tis a heavenly one, indeed!

_Aman._ But, my Lord, you _Beaux_ spend a great deal of your Time in Intrigues: You have given us no Account of them yet.

_Lord Fop._ [_Aside._] Soh, she wou'd enquire into my Amours----That's Jealousy----She begins to be in love with me. [_To Aman._] Why, Madam----as to time for my Intrigues, I usually make Detachments of it from my other Pleasures, according to the Exigency. Far your Ladyship may please to take notice, that those who intrigue with Women of Quality, have rarely occasion for above half an Hour at a time: People of that Rank being under those Decorums, they can seldom give you a larger View, than will justly serve to shoot 'em flying. So that the Course of my other Pleasures is not very much interrupted by my Amours.

_Lov._ But your Lordship now is become a Pillar of the State; you must attend the weighty Affairs of the Nation.

_Lord Fop._ Sir----as to weighty Affairs----I leave them to weighty Heads. I never intend mine shall be a Burden to my Body.

_Lov._ O, but you'll find the House will expect your Attendance.

_Lord Fop._ Sir, you'll find the House will compound for my Appearance.

_Lov._ But your Friends will take it ill if you don't attend their particular Causes.

_Lord Fop._ Not, Sir, if I come time enough to give 'em my particular Vote.

_Ber._ But pray, my Lord, how do you dispose of yourself on _Sundays_? for that, methinks, shou'd hang wretchedly on your hands.

_Lord Fop._ Why, faith, Madam----_Sunday_----is a vile day, I must confess; I intend to move for leave to bring in a Bill, That Players may work upon it, as well as the Hackney Coaches. Tho' this I must say for the Government, it leaves us the Churches to entertain us----But then again, they begin so abominable early, a Man must rise by Candle-light to get dress'd by the Psalm.

_Ber._ Pray which Church does your Lordship most oblige with your Presence?

_Lord Fop._ Oh, St. _James_'s, Madam----There's much the best Company.

_Aman._ Is there good Preaching too?

_Lord Fop._ Why, faith, Madam----I can't tell. A Man must have very little to do there, that can give an Account of the Sermon.

_Ber._ You can give us an Account of the Ladies, at least.

_Lord Fop._ Or I deserve to be excommunicated--There is my Lady _Tattle_, my Lady _Prate_, my Lady _Titter_, my Lady _Lear_, my Lady _Giggle_, and my Lady _Grin_. These fit in the Front of the Boxes, and all Church-time are the prettiest Company in the World, stap my Vitals. [_To Aman._] Mayn't we hope for the Honour to see your Ladyship added to our Society, Madam?

_Aman._ Alas, my Lord, I am the worst Company in the World at Church: I'm apt to mind the Prayers, or the Sermon, or----

_Lord Fop._ One is indeed strangely apt at Church to mind what one should not do. But I hope, Madam, at one time or other, I shall have the Honour to lead your Ladyship to your Coach there. [_Aside._] Methinks she seems strangely pleas'd with every thing I say to her--'Tis a vast pleasure to receive Encouragement from a Woman before her Husband's Face----I have a good mind to pursue my Conquest, and speak the thing plainly to her at once--I'gad, I'll do't, and that in so Cavalier a manner, she shall be surpriz'd at it--Ladies, I'll take my Leave: I'am afraid I begin to grow troublesome with the length of my Visit.

_Aman._ Your Lordship is too entertaining to grow troublesome any where.

_Lord Fop._ [_Aside._] That now was as much as if she had said----Pray lie with me. I'll let her see I'm quick of Apprehension. [_To Aman._] O Lard, Madam, I had like to have forgot a Secret, I must needs tell your Ladyship. [_To Lov._] Ned, you must not be so jealous now as to listen.

_Lov._ Not I, my Lord; I'm too fashionable a Husband to pry into the Secrets of my Wife.

_Lord Fop._ [_To Aman. squeezing her Hand._] I am in love with you to Desperation, strike me speechless.

_Aman._ [_Giving him a Box o' th' Ear._] Then thus I return your Passion----An impudent Fool!

_Lord Fop._ Gad's Curse, Madam, I'm a Peer of the Realm.

_Lov._ Hey; what the Devil, do you affront my Wife, Sir? Nay then--

[_They draw and fight. The Women run shrieking for Help._

_Aman._ Ah! What has my Folly done? Help! Murder, help! Part 'em, for Heaven's sake.

_Lord Fop._ [_Falling back, and leaning upon his Sword._] Ah----quite thro' the Body----Stap my Vitals.

_Enter Servants._

_Lov._ [_Running to him._] I hope I han't kill'd the Fool, however----Bear him up! Where's your Wound?

_Lord Fop._ Just thro' the Guts.

_Lov._ Call a Surgeon there: Unbutton him quickly.

_Lord Fop._ Ay, pray make haste.

_Lov._ This Mischief you may thank yourself for.

_Lord Fop._ I may so--Love's the Devil indeed, _Ned_.

_Enter ~Syringe~ and Servant._

_Serv._ Here's Mr. _Syringe_, Sir, was just going by the Door.

_Lord Fop._ He's the welcomest Man alive.

_Syr._ Stand by, stand by, stand by. Pray, Gentlemen, stand by. Lord have mercy upon us! Did you never see a Man run thro' the Body before? Pray stand by.

_Lord Fop._ Ah, Mr. _Syringe_.----I'm a dead Man.

_Syr._ A dead Man, and I by----I shou'd laugh to see that, I'gad.

_Lov._ Pr'ythee don't stand prating, but look upon his Wound.

_Syr._ Why, what if I won't look upon his Wound this Hour, Sir?

_Lov._ Why then he'll bleed to Death, Sir.

_Syr._ Why, then I'll fetch him to life again, Sir.

_Lov._ 'Slife, he's run thro' the Guts, I tell thee.

_Syr._ Wou'd he were run thro' the Heart, I shou'd get the more Credit by his Cure. Now I hope you are satisfy'd?----Come, now let me come at him; now let me come at him. [_Viewing his Wound._] Oons, what a Gash is here!--Why, Sir, a Man may drive a Coach and Six Horses into your Body.

_Lord Fop._ Ho----

_Syr._ Why, what the Devil, have you run the Gentleman thro' with a Scythe?----[_Aside._] A little Prick between the Skin and the Ribs, that's all.

_Lov._ Let me see his Wound.

_Syr._ Then you shall dress it, Sir; for if any body looks upon it, I won't.

_Lov._ Why, thou art the veriest Coxcomb I ever saw.

_Syr._ Sir, I am not Matter of my Trade for nothing.

_Lord Fop._ Surgeon!

_Syr._ Well, Sir.

_Lord Fop._ Is there any Hopes?

_Syr._ Hopes!----I can't tell----What are you willing to give for your Cure?

_Lord Fop._ Five hundred Paunds with Pleasure.

_Syr._ Why then perhaps there may be Hopes. But we must avoid further Delay. Here, help the Gentleman into a Chair, and carry him to my House presently, that's the properest place [_Aside._] to bubble him out of his Money. Come, a Chair, a Chair quickly--There, in with him.

[_They put him into a Chair._

_Lord Fop._ Dear _Loveless_----Adieu. If I die----I forgive thee; and if I live----I hope thou wilt do as much by me. I am very sorry you and I shou'd quarrel; but I hope here's an end on't, for if you are satisfy'd----I am.

_Lov._ I shall hardly think it worth my prosecuting any farther, so you may be at rest, Sir.

_Lord Fop._ Thou art a generous Fellow, strike me dumb. [_Aside._] But thou hast an impertinent Wife, stap my Vitals.

_Syr._ So, carry him off, carry him off, we shall have him prate himself into a Fever by and by; carry him off.

[_Ex. ~Serv.~ with ~L. Fop~._

_Aman._ Now on my Knees, my Dear, let me ask your pardon for my Indiscretion, my own I never shall obtain.

_Lov._ Oh, there's no harm done: You serv'd him well.

_Aman._ He did indeed deserve it. But I tremble to think how dear my indiscreet Resentment might have cost you.

_Lov._ O, no matter; never trouble yourself about that.

_Ber._ For Heaven's sake, what was't he did to you?

_Aman._ O nothing; he only squeez'd me kindly by the Hand, and frankly offer'd me a Coxcomb's Heart. I know I was to blame to resent it as I did, since nothing but a Quarrel could ensue. But the Fool so surpriz'd me with his Insolence, I was not Mistress of my Fingers.

_Ber._ Now I dare swear, he thinks you had 'em at great Command, they obey'd you so readily.

_Enter ~Worthy~._

_Wor._ Save you, save you, good People; I'm glad to find you all alive; I met a wounded Peer carrying off. For Heav'ns sake, what was the matter?

_Lov._ O, a Trifle: He would have lain with my Wife before my Face, so she oblig'd him with a Box o'the Ear, and I run him thro' the Body: That was all.

_Wor._ _Bagatelle_ on all sides. But, pray, Madam, how long has this noble Lord been an humble Servant of yours?

_Aman._ This is the first I have heard on't. So I suppose 'tis his Quality, more than his Love, has brought him into this Adventure. He thinks his Title an authentick Passport to every Woman's Heart, below the Degree of a Peeress.

_Wor._ He's Coxcomb enough to think any thing. But I wou'd not have you brought into Trouble for him: I hope there's no Danger of his Life?

_Lov._ None at all: He's fallen into the Hands of a roguish Surgeon, who I perceive designs to frighten a little Money out of him. But I saw his Wound, 'tis nothing; he may go to the Play to-night, if he pleases.

_Wor._ I'm glad you have corrected him without farther Mischief. And now, Sir, if these Ladies have no farther Service for you, you'll oblige me if you can go to the Place I spoke to you of t'other Day.

_Lov._ With all my Heart. [_Aside._] Tho' I cou'd wish, methinks, to stay and gaze a little longer on that Creature. Good God! How beautiful she is!--But what have I to do with Beauty? I have already had my Portion, and must not covet more. Come, Sir, when you please.

[_To_ Wor.

_Wor._ Ladies, your Servant. _Aman._ Mr. _Loveless_, pray one Word with you before you go.

_Lov. ~to~ Wor._] I'll overtake you, Sir: What wou'd my Dear?

_Aman._ Only a Woman's foolish Question, How do you like my Cousin here?

_Lov._ Jealous already, _Amanda_?

_Aman._ Not at all; I ask you for another Reason.

_Lov._ _Aside._] Whate'er her Reason be, I must not tell her true. [_To Aman._] Why, I confess she's handsome. But you must not think I slight your Kinswoman, if I own to you, of all the Women who may claim that Character, she is the last wou'd triumph in my Heart.

_Aman._ I'm satisfy'd.

_Lov._ Now tell me why you ask'd?

_Aman._ At Night I will. Adieu.

_Lov._ I'm yours. [_Kissing her._]

[_Exit Lov._

_Aman._ [_Aside._] I'm glad to find he does not like her; for I have a great mind to persuade her to come and live with me. [_To Ber._] Now, dear _Berinthia_, let me enquire a little into your Affairs: for I do assure you, I am enough your Friend, to interest myself in every thing that concerns you.

_Ber._ You formerly have given me such Proofs on't, I shou'd be very much to blame to doubt it; I am sorry I have no Secrets to trust you with, that I might convince you how entire a Confidence I durst repose in you.

_Aman._ Why is it possible, that one so young and beautiful as you, shou'd live and have no Secrets?

_Ber._ What Secrets do you mean?

_Aman._ Lovers.

_Ber._ O Twenty; but not one secret one amongst 'em. Lovers in this Age have too much Honour to do any thing under-hand; they do all above-board.

_Aman._ That now, methinks, wou'd make me hate a Man.

_Ber._ But the Women of the Town are of another mind: For by this means a Lady may, with the Expence of a few Coquet Glances, lead twenty Fools about in a String, for two or three Years together. Whereas, if she shou'd allow 'em greater Favours, and oblige 'em to Secrecy, she wou'd not keep one of 'em a Fortnight.

_Aman._ There's something indeed in That to satisfy the Vanity of a Woman, but I can't comprehend how the Men find their Account in it.

_Ber._ Their Entertainment, I must confess, is a Riddle to me. For there's very few of them ever get farther than a Bow and an Ogle. I have half a Score for my share, who follow me all over the Town; and at the Play, the Park, and the Church, do, with their Eyes, say the violent'st things to me----But I never hear any more of 'em.

_Aman._ What can be the Reason of that?

_Ber._ One Reason is, They don't know how to go farther. They have had so little Practice, they don't understand the Trade. But besides their Ignorance, you must know there is not one of my half-score Lovers but what follows half a score Mistresses. Now their Affections being divided amongst so many, are not strong enough for any one, to make 'em pursue her to the Purpose. Like a young Puppy in a Warren, they have a Flirt at all, and catch none.

_Aman._ Yet they seem to have a Torrent of Love to dispose of.

_Ber._ They have so: But 'tis like the River of a Modern Philosopher, whose Works, tho' a Woman, I have read: it sets out with a violent Stream, splits in a thousand Branches, and is all lost in the Sands.

_Aman._ But do you think this River of Love runs all its Course without doing any Mischief? Do you think it overflows nothing?

_Ber._ O yes; 'tis true, it never breaks into any body's Ground that has the least Fence about it; but it overflows all the Commons that lie in its way. And this is the utmost Achievement of those dreadful Champions in the Field of Love--the Beaux.

_Aman._ But pr'ythee, _Berinthia_, instruct me a little farther; for I am so great a Novice, I'm almost asham'd on't. My Husband's leaving me whilst I was young and fond, threw me into that Depth of Discontent, that ever since I have led so private and recluse a Life, my Ignorance is scarce conceivable. I therefore fain would be instructed: Not, Heaven knows, that what you call Intrigues have any Charms for me: my Love and Principles are too well fix'd. The practick Part of all unlawful Love is----

_Ber._ O 'tis abominable: But for the Speculative--that we must all confess is entertaining. The Conversation of all the virtuous Women in the Town turns upon that and new Clothes.

_Aman._ Pray be so just then to me, to believe, 'tis with a World of Innocency I wou'd enquire, Whether you think those Women we call Women of Reputation, do really 'scape all other Men, as they do those Shadows of 'em, the Beaux.

_Ber._ O no, _Amanda_; there are a sort of Men make dreadful Work amongst 'em: Men that may be call'd The Beaux Antipathy; for they agree in nothing but walking upon two Legs.

These have Brains: The Beau has none.
These are in Love with their Mistress: The Beau with himself.
They take care of her Reputation: He's industrious to destroy it.
They are decent: He's a Fop.
They are sound: He's rotten.
They are Men: He's an Ass.

_Aman._ If this be their Character, I fancy we had here e'en now a Pattern of 'em both.

_Ber._ His Lordship and Mr. _Worthy_?

_Aman._ The same.

_Ber._ As for the Lord, he's eminently so; And for the other, I can assure you, there's not a Man in Town who has a better Interest with the Women, that are worth having an Interest with. But 'tis all private: He's like a Back-stair Minister at Court, who, whilst the reputed Favourites are sauntering in the Bed-chamber, is ruling the Roast in the Closet.

_Aman._ He answers then the Opinion I had ever of him. Heavens! What a difference there is between a Man like him, and that vain nauseous Fop, Sir _Novelty_! [_Taking her Hand._] I must acquaint you with a Secret, Cousin. 'Tis not that Fool alone has talked to me of Love, _Worthy_ has been tampering too: 'Tis true, he has done it in vain: Not all his Charms or Art have power to shake me. My Love, my Duty, and my Virtue, are such faithful Guards, I need not fear my Heart shou'd e'er betray me. But what I wonder at is this: I find I did not start at his Proposal, as when it came from one whom I contemn'd. I therefore mention this Attempt, that I may learn from you whence it proceeds, that Vice, which cannot change its Nature, shou'd so far change at least its Shape, as that the self-same Crime propos'd from one shall seem a Monster gaping at your Ruin, when from another it shall look so kind, as tho' it were your Friend, and never meant to harm you. Whence think you, can this Difference proceed? For 'tis not Love, Heaven knows.

_Ber._ O no; I wou'd not for the World believe it were. But possibly, shou'd there a dreadful Sentence pass upon you, to undergo the Rage of both their Passions; the Pain you apprehend from one might seem so trivial to the other, the Danger wou'd not quite so much alarm you.

_Aman._ Fy, fy, _Berinthia_! you wou'd indeed alarm me, cou'd you incline me to a Thought, that all the Merit of Mankind combin'd, cou'd shake that tender Love I bear my Husband: No, he sits triumphant in my Heart, and nothing can dethrone him.

_Ber._ But shou'd he abdicate again, do you think you shou'd preserve the vacant Throne ten tedious Winters more, in hopes of his return?

_Aman._ Indeed I think I shou'd. Tho' I confess, after those Obligations he has to me, shou'd he abandon me once more, my Heart wou'd grow extremely urgent with me to root him thence, and cast him out for ever.

_Ber._ Were I that thing they call a slighted Wife, some Body shou'd run the risque of being that thing they call--a Husband.

_Aman._ O fy, _Berinthia_! No Revenge shou'd ever be taken against a Husband: But to wrong his Bed is a Vengeance, which of all Vengeance----

_Ber._ Is the sweetest--ha, ha, ha! Don't I talk madly?

_Aman._ Madly indeed.

_Ber._ Yet I'm very innocent.

_Aman._ That I dare swear you are. I know how to make Allowances for your Humour: You were always very entertaining Company; but I find since Marriage and Widowhood have shewn you the World a little, you are very much improv'd.

_Ber._ [_Aside._] Alack a-day, there has gone more than that to improve me, if she knew all.

_Aman._ For Heaven's sake, _Berinthia_, tell me what way I shall take to persuade you to come and live with me?

_Ber._ Why, one way in the World there is----and but one.

_Aman._ Pray which is that?

_Ber._ It is to assure me--I shall be very welcome.

_Aman._ If that be all, you shall e'en lie here to-night.

_Ber._ To-night?

_Aman._ Yes, to-night.

_Ber._ Why, the People where I lodge will think me mad.

_Aman._ Let 'em think what they please.

_Ber._ Say you so, _Amanda_? Why then they shall think what they please: For I'm a young Widow, and I care not what any body thinks. Ah, _Amanda_, it's a delicious thing to be a young Widow.

_Aman._ You'll hardly make me think so.

_Ber._ Phu, because you are in love with your Husband: but that is not every Woman's Case.

_Aman._ I hope 'twas yours, at least.

_Ber._ Mine, say ye? Now I have a great mind to tell you a Lye, but I shou'd do it so aukwardly, you'd find me out.

_Aman._ Then e'en speak the Truth.

_Ber._ Shall I?----Then after all, I did love him, _Amanda_----as a Nun does Penance. _Aman._ Why did not you refuse to marry him, then?

_Ber._ Because my Mother wou'd have whipt me.

_Aman._ How did you live together?

_Ber._ Like Man and Wife--asunder;

He lov'd the Country, I the Town.
He Hawks and Hounds, I Coaches and Equipage.
He Eating and Drinking, I Carding and Playing.
He the Sound of a Horn, I the Squeak of a Fiddle.
We were dull Company at Table, worse a-bed.
Whenever we met, we gave one another the Spleen.
And never agreed but once, which was about lying alone.

_Aman._ But tell me one thing truly and sincerely.

_Ber._ What's that?

_Aman._ Notwithstanding all these Jars, did not his Death at last extremely trouble you?

_Ber._ O yes: Not that my present Pangs were so very violent, but the After-pains were intolerable. I was forc'd to wear a beastly Widow's Band a Twelvemonth for't.

_Aman._ Women, I find, have different Inclinations.

_Ber._ Women, I find, keep different Company. When your Husband ran away from you, if you had fallen into some of my Acquaintance, 'twou'd have sav'd you many a Tear. But you go and live with a Grandmother, a Bishop, and an old Nurse, which was enough to make any Woman break her Heart for her Husband. Pray, _Amanda_, if ever you are a Widow again, keep yourself so as I do.

_Aman._ Why, do you then resolve you'll never marry?

_Ber._ O, no; I resolve I will.

_Aman._ How so?

_Ber._ That I never may.

_Aman._ You banter me.

_Ber._ Indeed I don't. But I consider I'm a Woman, and form my Resolutions accordingly.

_Aman._ Well, my Opinion is, form what Resolution you will, Matrimony will be the end on't.

_Ber._ Faith it won't.

_Aman._ How do you know?

_Ber._ I'm sure on't.

_Aman._ Why, do you think 'tis impossible for you to fall in love?

_Ber._ No.

_Aman._ Nay, but to grow so passionately fond, that nothing but the Man you love can give you rest?

_Ber._ Well, what then?

_Aman._ Why, then you'll marry him.

_Ber._ How do you know that?

_Aman._ Why, what can you do else?

_Ber._ Nothing--but sit and cry.

_Aman._ Psha.

_Ber._ Ah, poor _Amanda_, you have led a Country Life: But if you'll consult the Widows of this Town, they'll tell you, you shou'd never take a Lease of a House you can hire for a Quarter's Warning.

[_Exeunt._

+ACT+ III.

_Enter Lord ~Foppington~ and Servant._

_Lord Fop._ Hey, Fellow, let the Coach come to the Door.

_Serv._ Will your Lordship venture so soon to expose yourself to the Weather?

_Lord Fop._ Sir, I will venture as soon as I can, to expose myself to the Ladies: tho' give me my Cloke, however; for in that Side-bax, what between the Air that comes in at the Door on one side, and the intolerable Warmth of the Masks on t'other, a Man gets so many Heats and Colds, 'twou'd destroy the Canstitution of a Harse.

_Ser._ [_Putting on his Cloke._] I wish your Lordship wou'd please to keep House a little longer, I'm afraid your Honour does not well consider your Wound.

_Lord Fop._ My Wound!----I wou'd not be in Eclipse another Day, tho' I had as many Wounds in my Guts as I have had in my Heart.

_Enter ~Young Fashion~._

_Young Fash._ Brother, your Servant. How do you find yourself to-day?

_Lord Fop._ So well, that I have arder'd my Coach to the Door: So there's no great Danger of Death this baut, _Tam_.

_Young Fash._ I'm very glad of it.

_Lord Fop._ _aside._] That I believe's a Lye. Pr'ythee, _Tam_, tell me one thing: Did not your Heart cut a Caper up to your Mauth, when you heard I was run thro' the Bady?

_Young Fash._ Why do you think it shou'd?

_Lord Fop._ Because I remember mine did so, when I heard my Father was shat thro' the Head?

_Young Fash._ It then did very ill.

_Lord Fop._ Pr'ythee, why so?

_Young Fash._ Because he us'd you very well.

_Lord Fop._ Well?--naw strike me dumb, he starv'd me. He has let me want a Thausand Women for want of a Thausand Paund.

_Young Fash._ Then he hindered you from making a great many ill Bargains; for I think no Woman is worth Money, that will take Money.

_Lord Fop._ If I were a younger Brother, I shou'd think so too.

_Young Fash._ Why, is it possible you can value a Woman that's to be bought?

_Lord Fop._ Pr'ythee, why not as well as a Pad-Nag?

_Young Fash._ Because a Woman has a Heart to dispose of; a Horse has none.

_Lord Fop._ Look you, _Tam_, of all things that belang to a Woman, I have an Aversion to her Heart; far when once a Woman has given you her Heart----you can never get rid of the rest of her Bady.

_Young Fash._ This is strange Doctrine: But pray in your Amours how is it with your own Heart?

_Lord Fop._ Why, my Heart in my Amours----is like----my Heart aut of my Amours; _a la glace_. My Bady, _Tam_, is a Watch; and my Heart is the Pendulum to it; whilst the Finger runs raund to every Hour in the Circle, that still beats the same time.

_Young Fash._ Then you are seldom much in love?

_Lord Fop._ Never, Stap my Vitals.

_Young Fash._ Why then did you make all this Bustle about _Amanda_?

_Lord Fop._ Because she was a Woman of an insolent Virtue, and I thought myself piqu'd in Honour to debauch her.

_Young Fash._ Very well. [_Aside._] Here's a rare Fellow for you, to have the spending of Five Thousand Pounds a-year. But now for my Business with him. [_To Lord Fop._] Brother, tho' I know to talk of Business (especially of Money) is a Theme not quite so entertaining to you as that of the Ladies, my Necessities are such, I hope you'll have patience to hear me.

_Lord Fop._ The greatness of your Necessities, _Tam_, is the worst Argument in the Warld far your being patiently heard. I do believe you are going to make a very good Speech, but, strike me dumb, it has the worst beginning of any Speech I have heard this Twelvemonth.

_Young Fash._ I'm very sorry you think so.

_Lord Fop._ I do believe thou art. But come, let's know thy Affair quickly; for 'tis a new Play, and I shall be so rumpled and squeezed with pressing thro' the Crawd, to get to my Servant, the Women will think I have lain all Night in my Clothes.

_Young Fash._ Why then (that I may not be the Author of so great a Misfortune) my Case in a Word is this: The necessary Expences of my Travels have so much exceeded the wretched Income of my Annuity, that I have been forced to mortgage it for Five Hundred Pounds, which is spent; so that unless you are so kind to assist me in redeeming it, I know no Remedy but to take a Purse.

_Lord Fop._ Why, Faith, _Tam_----to give you my Sense of the thing, I do think taking a Purse the best Remedy in the Warld; for if you succeed, you are reliev'd that way; if you are taken----you are reliev'd t'other.

_Young Fash._ I'm glad to see you are in so pleasant a Humour, I hope I shall find the Effects on't.

_Lord Fop._ Why, do you then really think it a reasonable thing I should give you Five Hundred Paunds?

_Young Fash._ I do not ask it as a Due, Brother, I am willing to receive it as a Favour.

_Lord Fop._ Thau art willing to receive it any haw, strike me speechless. But these are damn'd times to give Money in: Taxes are so great, Repairs so exorbitant, Tenants such Rogues, and Perriwigs so dear, that the Devil take me, I'm reduc'd to that extremity in my Cash, I have been farc'd to retrench in that one Article of sweet Pawder, till I have braught it dawn to Five Guineas a Manth. Naw judge, _Tam_, whether I can spare you Five hundred Paunds?

_Young Fash._ If you can't, I must starve, that's all, [_Aside._] Damn him.

_Lord Fop._ All I can say is, you should have been a better Husband.

_Young Fash._ 'Oons, if you can't live upon five thousand a-year, how do you think I should do't upon two hundred?

_Lord Fop._ Don't be in a Passion, _Tam_; far Passion is the most unbecoming thing in the Warld----to the Face. Look you, I don't love to say any thing to you to make you melancholy; but upon this occasion I must take leave to put you in mind, that a Running Horse does require more Attendance, than a Coach-Horse. Nature has made some difference 'twixt you and I.

_Young Fash._ Yes, she has made you older. [_Aside._] Pox take her.

_Lord Fop._ That is nat all. _Tam_.

_Young Fash._ Why, what is there else?

_Lord Fop._ [_Looking first upon himself, then upon his Brother._]----Ask the Ladies.

_Young Fash._ Why, thou Essence Bottle, thou Musk-Cat, dost thou then think thou hast any Advantage over me, but what Fortune has given thee?

_Lord Fop._ I do----stap my Vitals.

_Young Fash._ Now, by all that's great and powerful, thou art the Prince of Coxcombs.

_Lord Fop._ Sir----I am praud of being at the Head of so prevailing a Party.

_Young Fash._ Will nothing then provoke thee?--Draw, Coward.

_Lord Fop._ Look you, _Tam_, you know I have always taken you for a mighty dull Fellow, and here is one of the foolishest Plats broke out, that I have seen a long time. Your Paverty makes your Life so burdensome to you, you would provoke me to a Quarrel, in hopes either to slip thro' my Lungs into my Estate, or to get yourself run thro' the Guts, to put an end to your Pain. But I will disappoint you in both your Designs; far with the Temper of a Philasapher, and the Discretion of a Statesman--I will go to the Play with my Sword in my Scabbard.

[_Exit ~Lord Fop~._

_Young Fash._ So! Farewel, Snuff-Box. And now, Conscience, I defy thee. _Lory!_

_Enter ~Lory~._

_Lo._ Sir.

_Young Fash._ Here's rare News, _Lory_; his Lordship has given me a Pill has purg'd off all my Scruples.

_Lo._ Then my Heart's at ease again: For I have been in a lamentable Fright, Sir, ever since your Conscience had the Impudence to intrude into your Company.

_Young Fash._ Be at peace, it will come there no more: My Brother has given it a wring by the Nose, and I have kick'd it down Stairs. So run away to the Inn; get the Horses ready quickly, and bring them to old _Coupler_'s, without a Moment's Delay.

_Lo._ Then, Sir, you are going straight about the Fortune.

_Young Fash._ I am: away; fly, _Lory_.

_Lo._ The happiest Day I ever saw. I'm upon the Wing already.

[_Exeunt several ways._

+SCENE+, _A Garden_.

_Enter ~Loveless~ and Servant_.

_Lov._ Is my Wife within?

_Ser._ No, Sir, she has been gone out this Half-hour.

_Lov._ 'Tis well; leave me.

_Solus._

Sure Fate has yet some Business to be done,
Before _Amanda_'s Heart and mine must rest;
Else, why amongst those Legions of her Sex,
Which throng the World,
Shou'd she pick out for her Companion
The only one on Earth
Whom Nature has endow'd for her undoing?
Undoing was't, I said----Who shall undo her?
Is not her Empire fix'd? Am I not hers?
Did she not rescue me, a groveling Slave,
When, chain'd and bound by that black Tyrant Vice,
I labour'd in his vilest Drudgery?
Did she not ransom me, and set me free?
Nay, more:
When by my Follies sunk
To a poor tatter'd, despicable Beggar,
Did she not lift me up to envy'd Fortune?
Give me herself, and all that she possest?
Without a Thought of more Return,
Than what a poor repenting Heart might make her,
Han't she done this? And if she has,
Am I not strongly bound to love her for it?
To love her--Why, do I not love her then?
By Earth and Heaven, I do!
Nay, I have Demonstration that I do:
For I would sacrifice my Life to serve her.
Yet hold----If laying down my Life
Be Demonstration of my Love,
What is't I feel in favour of _Berinthia_?
For shou'd she be in danger, methinks, I cou'd incline
To risk it for her Service too; and yet I do not love her.
How then subsists my Proof?--
--O, I have found it out.
What I would do for one, is Demonstration of my Love;
And if I'd do as much for t'other: it there is Demonstration
of my Friendship----Ay----it must be so. I find
I'm very much her Friend.--Yet let me ask myself one
puzzling Question more:
Whence springs this mighty Friendship all at once?
For our Acquaintance is of a later Date. Now Friendship's
said to be a Plant of tedious Growth, its Root
compos'd of tender Fibres, nice in their Taste, cautious
in spreading, check'd with the least Corruption in the
Soil, long ere it take, and longer still ere it appear to
do so; whilst mine is in a Moment shot so high, and fix'd
so fast, it seems beyond the Power of Storms to shake it.
I doubt it thrives too fast.

[_Musing._

_Enter ~Berinthia~._

--Ah, she here!--Nay, then take heed, my Heart, for
there are Dangers towards.

_Ber._ What makes you look so thoughtful, Sir? I hope you are not ill.

_Lov._ I was debating, Madam, whether I was so or not; and that was it which made me look so thoughtful.

_Ber._ Is it then so hard a matter to decide? I thought all People had been acquainted with their own Bodies, tho' few People know their own Minds.

_Lov._ What if the Distemper, I suspect, be in the Mind?

_Ber._ Why then I'll undertake to prescribe you a Cure.

_Lov._ Alas, you undertake you know not what.

_Ber._ So far at least then allow me to be a Physician.

_Lov._ Nay, I'll allow you so yet farther: For I have reason to believe, shou'd I put myself into your Hands, you wou'd increase my Distemper.

_Ber._ Perhaps I might have Reasons from the College not to be too quick in your Cure; but 'tis possible, I might find ways to give you often Ease, Sir.

_Lov._ Were I but sure of that, I'd quickly lay my Case before you.

_Ber._ Whether you are sure of it or no, what Risk do you run in trying?

_Lov._ O, a very great one.

_Ber._ How?

_Lov._ You might betray my Distemper to my Wife.

_Ber._ And so lose all my Practice.

_Lov._ Will you then keep my Secret?

_Ber._ I will, if it don't burst me.

_Lov._ Swear.

_Ber._ I do.

_Lov._ By what?

_Ber._ By Woman.

_Lov._ That's swearing by my Deity. Do it by your own, or I shan't believe you.

_Ber._ By Man then.

_Lov._ I'm satisfy'd. Now hear my Symptoms, and give me your Advice. The first were these:

When 'twas my Chance to see you at the Play,
A random Glance you threw, at first alarm'd me,
I cou'd not turn my Eyes from whence the Danger came:
I gaz'd upon you, till you shot again,
And then my Fears came on me.
My Heart began to pant, my Limbs to tremble,
My Blood grew thin, my Pulse beat quick,
My Eyes grew hot and dim, and all the Frame of Nature
Shook with Apprehension.
'Tis true, some small Recruits of Resolution
My Manhood brought to my Assistance,
And by their Help I made a Stand a while,
But found at last your Arrows flew so thick,
They cou'd not fail to pierce me;
So left the Field,
And fled for shelter to _Amanda_'s Arms.
What think you of these Symptoms, pray?

_Ber._ Feverish every one of 'em. But what Relief pray did your Wife afford you?

_Lov._ Why, instantly she let me Blood, which for the present much assuag'd my Flame. But when I saw you, out it burst again, and rag'd with greater Fury than before. Nay, since you now appear, 'tis so increas'd, that in a Moment, if you do not help me, I shall, whilst you look on, consume to Ashes.

[_Taking hold of her Hand._

_Ber._ [_Breaking from him._] O Lard, let me go: 'Tis the Plague, and we shall all be infected.

_Lov._ [_Catching her in his Arms, and kissing her._] Then we'll die together, my charming Angel.

_Ber._ O Ged----the Devil's in you. Lard, let me go, here's somebody coming.

_Enter Servant._

_Serv._ Sir, my Lady's come home, and desires to speak with you: She's in her Chamber.

_Lov._ Tell her I'm coming.

[_Exit Serv._

_To Ber._ But before I go, one Glass of Nectar more to drink her Health.

_Ber._ Stand off, or I shall hate you, by Heavens!

_Lov._ [_Kissing her._] In Matters of Love, a Woman's Oath is no more to be minded than a Man's.

_Ber._ Um----

_Enter ~Worthy~._

_Wor._ Ha! What's here? my old Mistress, and so close, I'faith! I wou'd not spoil her Sport for the Universe.

[_He retires._

_Ber._ O Ged----Now do I pray to Heaven, [_Exit ~Loveless~ running._] with all my Heart and Soul, that the Devil in Hell may take me, if ever----I was better pleas'd in my Life--This Man has bewitch'd me, that's certain. [_Sighing._] Well, I am condemn'd, but, Thanks to Heaven, I feel myself each Moment more and more prepar'd for my Execution--Nay, to that degree, I don't perceive I have the least fear of Dying. No, I find, let the Executioner be but a Man, and there's nothing will suffer with more Resolution than a Woman. Well, I never had but one Intrigue yet: But I confess I long to have another. Pray Heaven it end as the first did tho', that we may both grow weary at a time; for 'tis a melancholy thing for Lovers to outlive one another.

_Enter ~Worthy~._

_Wor._ [_Aside._] This Discovery's a lucky one, I hope to make a happy use on't. That Gentlewoman there is no Fool; so I shall be able to make her understand her Interest. [_To_ Ber.] Your Servant, Madam; I need not ask you how you do, you have got so good a Colour.

_Ber._ No better than I us'd to have, I suppose.

_Wor._ A little more Blood in your Cheeks.

_Ber._ The Weather's hot.

_Wor._ If it were not, a Woman may have a Colour.

_Ber._ What do you mean by that?

_Wor._ Nothing.

_Ber._ Why do you smile then?

_Wor._ Because the Weather's hot.

_Ber._ You'll never leave roguing, I see that.

_Wor._ [_Putting his Finger to his Nose._] You'll never leave----I see that.

_Ber._ Well, I can't imagine what you drive at. Pray tell me what you mean?

_Wor._ Do you tell me, it's the same thing.

_Ber._ I can't.

_Wor._ Guess!

_Ber._ I shall guess wrong.

_Wor._ Indeed you won't.

_Ber._ Psha! either tell, or let it alone.

_Wor._ Nay, rather than let it alone, I will tell. But first I must put you in mind that, after what has past 'twixt you and I, very few things ought to be Secrets between us.

_Ber._ Why what Secrets do we hide? I know of none.

_Wor._ Yes, there are two; one I have hid from you, and t'other you wou'd hide from me. You are fond of _Loveless_, which I have discover'd; and I am fond of his Wife----

_Ber._ Which I have discover'd.

_Wor._ Very well; now I confess your Discovery to be true, what do you say to mine?

_Ber._ Why, I confess----I wou'd swear 'twere false, if I thought you were Fool enough to believe me.

_Wor._ Now am I almost in Love with you again. Nay, I don't know but I might be quite so, had I made one short Campaign with _Amanda_. Therefore, if you find 'twould tickle your Vanity, to bring me down once more to your Lure, e'en help me quickly to dispatch her Business, that I may have nothing else to do, but to apply myself to yours.

_Ber._ Do you then think, Sir, I am old enough to be a Bawd?

_Wor._ No, but I think you are wise enough to----

_Ber._ To do what?

_Wor._ To hoodwink _Amanda_ with a Gallant, that she mayn't see who is her Husband's Mistress.

_Ber._ [_Aside._] He has reason: The Hint's a good one.

_Wor._ Well, Madam, what think you on't?

_Ber._ I think you are so much a deeper Politician in these Affairs than I am, that I ought to have a very great regard to your Advice.

_Wor._ Then give me leave to put you in mind, that the most easy, safe, and pleasant Situation for your own Amour, is the House in which you now are; provided you keep _Amanda_ from any sort of Suspicion. That the way to do that, is to engage her in an Intrigue of her own, making yourself her Confidante. And the way to bring her to intrigue, is to make her jealous of her Husband in a wrong place; which the more you foment, the less you'll be suspected. This is my Scheme, in short; which if you follow as you shou'd do, (my dear _Berinthia_) we may all four pass the Winter very pleasantly.

_Ber._ Well, I could be glad to have nobody's Sins to answer for but my own. But where there is a Necessity--

_Wor._ Right! as you say, where there is a Necessity, a Christian is bound to help his Neighbour. So, good _Berinthia_, lose no time, but let us begin the Dance as fast as we can.

_Ber._ Not till the Fiddles are in tune, pray, Sir. Your Lady's Strings will be very apt to fly, I can tell you that, if they are wound up too hastily. But if you'll have patience to skrew them to a pitch by degrees, I don't doubt but she may endure to be play'd upon.

_Wor._ Ay, and will make admirable Musick too, or I'm mistaken; but have you had no private Closet Discourse with her yet about Males and Females, and so forth, which may give you hopes in her Constitution; for I know her Morals are the Devil against us.

_Ber._ I have had so much Discourse with her, that I believe were she once cur'd of her fondness to her Husband, the Fortress of her Virtue wou'd not be so impregnable as she fancies.

_Wor._ What! she runs, I'll warrant you, into that common Mistake of fond Wives, who conclude themselves virtuous, because they can refuse a Man they don't like, when they have got one they do.

_Ber._ True, and there I think 'tis a presumptuous thing in a Woman to assume the Name of Virtuous, till she has heartily hated her Husband, and been soundly in love with somebody else. Whom if she has withstood--then--much good may it do her!

_Wor._ Well, so much for her Virtue. Now, one word of her Inclinations, and every one to their Post. What Opinion do you find she has of me?

_Ber._ What you cou'd wish; she thinks you handsome and discreet.

_Wor._ Good, that's thinking half Seas over. One Tide more brings us into Port.

_Ber._ Perhaps it may, tho' still remember, there's a difficult Bar to pass.

_Wor._ I know there is, but I don't question I shall get well over it, by the help of such a Pilot.

_Ber._ You may depend upon your Pilot, she'll do the best she can; so weigh Anchor, and be gone as soon as you please.

_Wor._ I'm under Sail already. Adieu.

[_Exit ~Wor~._

_Ber._ _Bon Voyage._

_Sola._

So, here's fine Work. What a Business have I undertaken! I'm a
very pretty Gentlewoman, truly; but there was no avoiding it: He'd
have ruin'd me, if I had refus'd him. Besides, faith, I begin to
fancy there may be as much pleasure in carrying on another body's
Intrigue, as one's own. This at least is certain, it exercises
almost all the entertaining Faculties of a Woman: For there's
employment for Hypocrisy, Invention, Deceit, Flattery, Mischief,
and Lying.

_Enter ~Amanda~, her Woman following her._

_Wom._ If you please, Madam, only to say, whether you'll have me to buy 'em or not.

_Aman._ Yes, no, go fiddle; I care not what you do. Pr'ythee leave me.

_Wom._ I have done.

[_Exit Wom._

_Ber._ What in the Name of _Jove_'s the matter with you?

_Aman._ The matter, _Berinthia_! I'm almost mad, I'm plagu'd to death.

_Ber._ Who is it that plagues you?

_Aman._ Who do you think shou'd plague a Wife, but her Husband?

_Ber._ O ho, is it come to that? We shall have you wish yourself a Widow by and by.