Act the First. Scene the First.

I Am at my Wits ends, Sam.

Faith Sir, like a kind Friend, I'm following you as fast as I can.

My Wife will be forc't from me, my plea­sure, my delight.

How shall we help it, Sir, dull, dull dogg as I am, my invention was never so gravell'd since I first set out upon't.

But this is not all my misery—for I am branded with the breach of Friendship: for Sanders do's suspect that I make Love to his Mistress the Widows Neece Eugenia; when Heav'n knowes, 'tis my Father that works against the peace of both our spirits, and courts her for me.

Let him go on, Sir, She'l hardly yield to an Old Man's Courtships, especially when she finds you appear not in it— but Sir, here's Mr. Sanders with looks as melancholy and angry as a Looseing Bulley of Marribone.

My treacherous Rival there! draw Sir—

What means my Friend?—

[Page 2]

Not a word, but defend thy life.

I'le dye before I'll draw against the man that I love; what reason?—

Thy Perjuries have blotted out the name of Friend, and out of Cowardise you endeavour to excuse an act, not Heav'n it self can pardon, much less I,—but thus I will repay thy falshood.

Hold, hold, Sir,—here's like to be fine work— Pray hear him first before you kill him, Sir,—upon my life, your anger is in an Error all this while; for 'tis my young Masters Injury and not yours, you would kill him for— Come Sir, I must have ye friends, a pox on weapons— Mr. Sanders your hand, Sir,— Now yours, Sir,—So, so— Now all's right again: This is a new way of reconciling Friends, which I learnt the other day among the Town Blades—

Th'art a mad Slave.

Now Sam, tell him the Secret, which none knowes but your self and I, and he will confess he has wrong'd the patience of his Friend.

Be patient then and attend—You must know, Sir, That about Seven Years since my Lady, his Mother, went over to Flanders, to coop the Young Chick his Sister in a Nunnery, she then being about Nine Years old; but on the Road to Antwerp, they met Thieves, were robb'd, stript, and parted; for the Kites convey'd the Young One-away, and left the Old one to cackle over her loss.

Strange accident!

From which time they were not heard off, till about Three Months since, News came of all had past, in a Letter from the Mother, who was then but in an ill condition at Colone; for thither she had wandred to find out her Daughter, but de­spairing of that, she sent over for Money to bring her home with—My Old Master no sooner heard of the Sum, but told it out, gave it him, and sent us over; but we unfortunately calling at Antwerp by the way, a little Gypsie at an Inn, had so look't her self into his heart, that the Mother was forgot, and he doated so, that he brought her over, and this day marry'd her; but pretends it is his Sister; for which she now passes with the Old Man.

[Page 3]

But how came you off concerning her Mother?

With a Tale of my own devising, That about 3 Years since she dyed at a little Village within Two Leagues of Ant­werp.

Let me admire thee—and withal confess my ground­less Jealousie.

Which thus I pardon—and renew our former friend­ship—

But here's the Devil on't, my Old Master concluding her his Daughter, has found out a Match for her, an Old Rank Fox, one Gazer.

What he that woes by the Almanack? observes the Full and Change oth' Moon, and makes it his business to con­form all his actions and designs to the Influence of the Planets?

The very same, he will not shave his Beard, clip his Nails, nor cut a Corn before he has consulted Erra Pater, whe­ther it be a lucky day or no.

Even he, because the Fool demands no portion—but if my skill fail not, I shall give him the Go-by.

As how, good Sam?

Honest Rogue say how.

Thus—when the Fool's cashier'd, as that he shall be, I'le tell my Old Master, that you admire his Daughter, and your Love's so great, that provided you might have her, you'd take her without a farthing—it's no sooner heard, but the bait is swallow'd, you are admitted, and the Match conclu­ded.

But how will you shift off the Marriage?

I have a Trick for that too—and each shall have his own—and both being lodg'd in one house, as 'tis his pride to have his Childrens Children got successively, on his fore-fa­thers Beds—in the Day time to please the Old Man, ye may dally and print a kiss on the wrong Lip, and no harm in't; for Brothers and Sisters may do't: But for the Night, let each know his own business, and there I'le leave you.

Honest Rogue, how I applaud thy Witt.

See, my Father's coming—let us retire—

About it straight, my Master's time is precious— and let me alone with my Old Master—

How now Sirrah, does the Love-business go well be­tween the Young Ones?

Between your Son, and Mris. Eugenia the Line is Even, Sir—

And shall I be a Grandsire then?

Oh questionless, Sir—but Sir methinks there's no proportion between that Equinoctial and my Young Mistress Clarina.

You mean Gazer: why the better Man; the better.

How Sir, are you glad there's no proportion in't?

Yes marry am I Sir; for I would have you to know, I hate all words that end in portion—for I'le give her nothing.

Say you should not, Sir, as I'le ne're urge your Worship against your Nature—is there no Gentleman (think you) of Worth and Credit, that will not open his Bed to warm a plump, handsome, charming naked Lady? believe me, Sir, there are Thousands in this Town wou'd be glad of such Service; nay, and wou'd give Money rather then not be so employ'd.

Say you so? then they shall give me money for my Girl, or they shall go without her.

Yes, they do give, keep, and treat, but not marry Sir, which I suppose you are for.

For quoth I? my Daughter shan't be a Whore, no not to get money, which is the best plea the Jades of the Town have for their lewdness, and in troth I love wealth so, that in my con­science had I bin a Maid, I had turn'd Strumpet mearly for mo­ny sake.

A Smiting one 'yfaith—but Sir methinks there's a great inequality in years—Mr. Gazer is too old in conscience for my young Mistress.

You lye Sirrah—he is but fifty five years of discre­tion, and will make a Staid Husband.

As tame as a Drone that has lost his sting—but Sir, under correction, I fear he is past getting of Children, which young Women love extreamly, and I should be loath my young Mistris should lye fallow before she has yielded fruit.

Sarrah do not provoke me to wrath—not he get Children, when 'tis well known that a tough old Fox of Three­score [Page 5] and Nine got a Girl of ten with Child—but however should he prove impotent, it would be the better I say still.

Would you not be a Grandfather by your Daughter, Sir?

No Sir—my Son will make me that, and should my Daughter too, 'twould undoe me, double charges Sam. dou­ble charges.

Then I know a young Gentleman, between you and I Sir, as impotent as an Eunuch, that has all the passions of Love, but incapable of Action; besides he has a great Estate.

How say you? a rich Eunuch? what a blessings that! and is he in Love with my Girl! blessing on blessing—name him, honest Varlet, who is it?

Mr. Sanders, Sir.

How, Mr. Sanders?—why Sirrah, had not he last Session a Bastard laid to his Charge, for which he was fined twenty Pounds.

True Sir, but 'twas his Footmans Bastard, which he only Fathered, for his credit; the case of many Blades now a days to keep up reputation.

But he 'l have a portion too.

To my knowledge not, Sir; alas he has a vast Estate al­ready, which he intends to settle on your Daughter, and then Sir when he dyes 'twill all come to your Family.

Art sure of that?

He told me so himself Sir, and said likewise, he would leave all to your Discretion.

Nay then it's my own, and the Devil a penny he gets of me.

Sir shall I fetch him, ere it be too late; for he's so raving Mad, that shortly he'le either be in Bedlam, or break his neck off some Steeple.

Now bless the young mans gristles, I should be loath to loose such an Estate, and see a begging Courtier go away with what might have been mine—therefore prithee find him out that I may pronounce words of consolation to him— before he be past all recovery; for I would not loose the blessing of an Eunuch Husband for my Daughter, for the World—

But Sir you'l send the Gull, the weathercock going First?

[Page 6]

Presently, instantly, my Daughter shall not be his Ephe­meris, since I can Prognosticate a happier Fortune for my Girl; prithee Sam, about it man, and bring Mr. Sanders to me—

But Sir, take no notice for the World, that he is an Eunuch.

Not a word, begon, begon man—

Let me see, let me see, what comfort gives my Al­manack to day—

Luck I beseech thee, good dayes evil dayes, June, July, August, speak a word for me now, the Girl's my own; let me see the Eighth day between Hawk and Buzzard, (I remember I was drunk then) the Ninth day on a slippery pin, the Tenth day the Markets marr'd, the Eleventh day against the hare— against the hare! a pox on the hare, wou'd it had bin left out, had it been against any thing but the hare, I had not valued it— however I'le try the fortune of a good face, tho my Almanack leaves me in the Sudds.

Mr. Sanders and an Eunuch too!—well, 'tis a prodi­gious Match! nay I thought I should have good luck to day, because I rise with my butt end formost this morning as they say.

Oh here's my Father-in-Law that must be, Sir Oliver your most dutiful Son-in-law and Servant.

An Eunuch! by Gogmagog he's happier then all the Whoring Gallants of the Town.

How? an Eunuch! I scorn your words, Sir, 'tis well known I have three chopping Bastards at Nurse—but, Sir Oliver—Sir Oliver Santloe—

Oh, Mr. Moon-Calf, are you there? prithee depart, for I am very busie at present—

When shall I wait on you then, Sir?—

Why, let me see, about a quarter of a year hence—

A quarter of a year hence? what shall I come in Sep­tember or October?

No Sir, nor in November neither, good my Friend—

You are not mad, Knight? you will not let your Daughter hang past August, will you? if Sir you do, she'l soon drop under the Tree, for she's no winter fruit I'le assure you—

[Page 7]

By Gog and Magog 'tis no matter for that, my daughter is not fruit for your tooth—therefore be not im­pertinent, but march off—

Your Promise is past—

A fart for Promises—I tell you y'are troublesome —what think you I'le marry my daughter to a Planter of the Skyes, pray what Settlement will you make, of the 12 Planets, and once a year they march out of your Lordship; I'le not bestow my daughter on one who can make no Joynture, but of Castles in the Air—

But I have an Estate—

For ought I know 'tis one by Conjuration, and the Charm may be out if you dye, and when my Girl thinks she's on substantial Land, may find her self in the midst of an Irish Bogg—in short, Sir—you shall have none of my daughter—

Then may the Devil choak ye with Money, and may a Fidler run away with your daughter, not have your daugh­ter? a Pox on your daughter. Adieu, Sir; now for my Wi­dow, I'le never leave an open hearted Widow for a narrow ey'd Maid agen: go out of the Road-way like an Ass to leap over Hedge and Ditch—I'le fall into the beaten Road agen, and invite the Widow home to a Banquet and make amends for my neglect of not waiting on her yesterday—

So, he's gone, may all the Stars by whatsoever Titles they are dignified and distinguisht look a skew upon all his Enterprises—

Oh luckey Rogue, ha'ye brought Mr. Sanders—he looks so sad, he grieves my very Soul, poor Fool—

Sir, there's the old Gudgeon, now catch him neatly and your business is done.

Oh, Mr. Sanders, what you are in love it seems; One might guess by your hanging look you are possest with that troublesome spirit—

I am so, Sir—

For my daughter—

[Page 8]

True, Sir—

And you'd kill your self for her—

My Life will be a burden if I have her not—

In good time, Sir—but then you expect no Por­tion?

Something by which you do acknowledge her your daughter, Sir—

Acknowledge her your daughter! what a wheed­ling Phrase was that to get Money—but 'twont do—in a word, Sir, if you like, love, and will marry my Girl without a Portion so, if not—Lord have mercy upon you, and so go hang your self.

How dexterously he wheedles himself into the noose.

But, Sir, if you'l bestow no Portion, you'l give her Cloaths and Wedding-dinner—

Yes that I will, Sir, and more; you shall board in my House gratis for three Years, if that will do: look out no further, for I'le reprieve you from your grinning destiny—

Then thus I joyfully return my acknowledgments for your kind compliance, and admire your judgment and discre­tion, for a Woman's Virtue is the richest Dower she can pos­sess—

Now I love thee for thy wisdom, rise, rise, and a Bles­sing on you both—

How now Son, whither so fast—

To visit my Mistris, Mr. Sunset's daughter, Sir—

A good Boy—ply it hard both of ye; these young Sluts are as skittish as unbackt Colts—Do ye hear, agree't so soon as possible, and one day, one dinner shall serve for both.

How soon my Joyes for my Girles good Fortune have drown'd the Sorrow for my Wife's Loss—well 'twas a good Soul —but why should I grieve, since I enjoy her Picture in my daughter—

[Page 9]

How now, the News with you, Sirrah—

A Dutch Merchant, Sir, desires to speak with you—

With me? what shou'd his business be tro—I have a Cousin in Holland, perhaps some News from him, the old bu­siness, some Firkins of Butter with Counterfeit Farthings, but tho the gain may be great, yet by Gog Magog I'le be no Tray­ter I, so I'le roundly tell him—

SCENE II.

Well I must be reveng'd on this impertinent Leacher, he will not be repuls'd, yet in spight of poverty and all its curst attendance of Calamities, I'le keep my Virtue still, and my pretious Sir, the Goat, will appear under the Ass's skin—

Thus far I am prosperous, Love, if it be thy will make her comply: Poverty! thou blest Bawd of Love, confute her sullen Virtue, make her yield, and then I'm happy—

Now, Madam, what answer shall I give to the Worshipful Knight that sent me?

I'le comply seemingly till I have an opportunity to be reveng'd for his unlawful Sollicitations.

Friend, you may tell Sir Gregory, That the small Favour which in his Letter he requests was no sooner read but granted—

Oh divine Beauty! let me embrace my Treasure—

Sir Gregory Lovemuch in the Habit of a Porter, it amazes me.

Oh Madam, Love, Love has a thousand ways to discover it self and its Deity—and this was mine—speak, Madam, and with the harmonious sound make me all rapture, new create me Young, say, shall I enjoy that mighty Blessing I have so long toyl'd and labour'd for?

I will consider further of it, Sir—

Oh dally not with time, my fair, let us now im­prove [Page 10] this blest time of your Husband's absence—I met him at the Temple, I suppose—gone to his Lawyer's Chamber—

Very right Sir—

Shall we, shall we withdraw then to your Cham­ber?— fair one?

And wrong my Husband, and the Widow whom you are about to Marry? 'twoud be unkindly done of me—

I marry her Wealth, not Person—when I've the Blessing of her Estate, it shall be at your Command, I marry her only to supply my Purse.

I must confess 'twill be a home revenge upon her, for she now enjoys my Estate, which her Husband by Knavish practises, couzen'd my Father of just before he dyed—

That's my design to force her make a restitution of your Estate; for all, all she has you shall be sole Comman­dress of—

Your Promises are great—

The performance too shall be so, her golden showers shall fall into your lap, and one kiss shall ransom inestimable Jewels from their imprisonment of her Cabinet; come, come, my sweet, let me partake of the boundless bliss of Love.

Let me a while consider Sir—

Time enough to consider when we have tasted of Love's pleasing banquet, and this minute lost may be ominous for the future.—

I ask but one days time, Sir Gregory then, let the rest be yours.

Happy, happy I, 'tis granted Madam; one kiss, my Dear, and then I'm gone—

Oh how divinely does she kiss!

So great a gift must be thus rewarded—

Within Wife, Sweet heart, where are you?

Oh Heav'ns, Sir Gregory, my Husband! should he find you here?—

Fear nothing, Madam, the Devil can't know me in this disguise.

He's come as I cou'd wish—Sir Gregory, let me prevail with you to step into my Closet; for shou'd he come [Page 11] and see you here, I am so young a Sinner, my guilt wou'd quickly betray me.

Do with me what you please—I wish I were well off.—

Now, my Dear, what comfort does the Law afford, shall werecover our lost Estate, or are we doom'd to eternal Poverty?

'Tis past retrieve, Sweet heart,—the Fox was too subtle for us; but I am resolv'd to attempt something shall either end my life, or redeem our Estate—

'Tis not thereabout yet, Husband, despair not, for I have thought upon a way which I am resolv'd to prose­cute, and if it take effect, say once a Woman's undertaking may prosper—and we may be said to share in wit, as well as in your sorrows; but till that opportunity happens, I have a rare old Fool in Limbo, a precious vigorous Lover, of Threescore and odd, who thinks our low fortunes may make me stoop to his unlawful desires—'tis Sir Gregory Love­much— see here what a precious bate his Traps are fur­nish't with to catch distressed Virtue.—

'Tis a rich Ring—but where have you bestow'd that lump of Leachery and Impotence?—

In my Closet,—he's disguis'd like a Porter, do what you please with him—

Hell and the Devil, out Cats, out.

What's the matter with him—

See if you please—

Gad take me, Madam,—Is your Husband gone?— a confounded Spawn of the Devil has almost frighted me out of my wits; I wonder what makes people fond of Cats, when their young they are absolute Succubusses, and Witches when old—your Tabby Satan, a Pox on her, has made me impo­tent with her looks, and I am at present perfectly be­witcht— but I shall return to morrow, sweet, with [Page 12] new joys and vigour, when these Charms are ended.

Provided my Cat be not in the way—

True, Madam,—therefore pray let me pre­vail that Puss and Husband may be decently removed, for the sight of either will make my Ague fit return.—

Ha! her Husband, then world farewel, for now I shall be kill'd.

How no Sir, what are you?

A poor fellow, an't please you.—

Stay friend, I must speak with you before you go.— Sweet heart—Ha, a Letter, from whence came this?—

Now welcom Death—he'll discover all—

Nay, prithee Husband restore my Letter agen, 'tis from our Cousin in the City—wou'd have me—

How in a man's hand?—

A Plague on it, that I cou'd not counterfeit a Womans hand—

One of her Apprentices writ it for her—

Do not tell me Stories—I partly know the hand; therefore will read it.—

But there are some secrets in it which she conjures me not to let any one see—

Yet her Apprentice might write 'em—Now I am resolved to read it.—

Now I am past all hopes, I shall be kill'd for being my own Pimp—Pox on him, he's poor, consequently de­sperate, and undoubtedly he'l cut my Throat, that he may be hang'd, and be out of his misery.

You see, Sir Gregory, what a misfortune your stay has brought upon us.—

Ay too late, I see Madam—were I well off of this business, the Devil shou'd have Married Wives for me; the very thoughts of their Husbands coming up, does in the midst of Enjoyment pall the appetite so, that half the plea­sure's lost.

A secret indeed, which you of all the world shou'd have kept from me—Is this the fruits of your pretended [Page 13] sanctity? are all your admonitions of Patience come to this? must I be made the monster to maintain your lust, ungrateful, false Woman?—this now confirms what I too much have heard abroad, concerng you and Sir Gregory that Goat, but I shall spoil the Amore.—

How now Rogue, whether so slyly—this too's the Bawd to that Sir Fisty—but I'le reward you e're you go.—

Upon my knees, I begg—

Rise, not a word, out of my sight, go—for fear my passion make me rashly act what I may too late repent of—prepare for the Country to go to your Relations agen—for here, I Vow never to live longer with you,— out of my sight—go—

Then she's my own, I'le meet her at the Coach when she is to go, take new Lodgings, and give her a false name, and the dear delights of the Town will easily prevail with her to stay and embrace my offer; besides, 'tis the Com­mon practice of divorc't Wives to have Gallants under their Husbands Noses—ha she's gone, I like not his staying.—

Now Sir, for your reward, thus I make

acknowledgment, for I can ne're expect to be out of your debt.

Hold, Sir hold, oh hold, what means your Wor­ship—

To pay you for your pains.—

I was paid before I came Sir; there's Porter paid, writ on the Letter, Sir—

Now, Sirrah, take this and deliver it to that Dog of a Knight, or I'le cut your Throat—

Lord Sir, do you question it Sir? I am an honourer of your Worships—

Tell him if he meets me not, he must expect to be posted for a Coward—

Gad for give me a Challenge? very fine, what have I got, to day a dry basting, and to morrow must be run through the Lungs—

Rogue do you grumble—take that to remember you to save your Wind-pipe—

Nouns, I'le do't, I'le do't Sir.

Is he gone?

Yes, with a good basting, and a Challenge, which I'le undertake will keep him waking beyond the Cure of Opium for this Night—

Oh Sister, cursed Luck—the Dice and Devil prove my Enemies, my last, last dear stake of ten Guinnies are flown—and now I begin to reflect on our last discourse about the Widow, is your design perfect—

It is—take no care, for I am resolved to set all right,—and Brother, what I can spare, take and try once more, what kindness Fortune will show—

Thanks kind Girl—but still my mind runs on this damn'd Widow, no revenge, prithee consider Girl,—

Leave that to my Care—for you are not like to know any thing, till I see I shall succeed—

Well, honest Soul, I leave it to thy management; but let each other exchange Prayers for our designs.

Now for my design, you'l be assisting.

I will—

We'le about it then straight—

ACT II. SCENE I.

WElcom, welcom Widow, to a Batchelor's house here, a single man I, but for two or three Maids that I keep.

Are you double with them sometimes then, Sir,—

An exceeding good mourning Wit, by Capricorn—

I protest Widow y'are a most intolerable pro­found witty Lady—and so I kiss your paws—

Well said, Mr. Noddy.

I am oblig'd to you for your Complement, Sir,—

A curse on Hadland, I shall not forget him in hast,

however I'm for the Widow, and will strike up the Match the sooner, that I may send into the Country for one of her Tenants Daughters—for I must have a bit of young flesh.

Sir Gregory! You honour me—see our Mistress, keep her Company, whilst I step aside and look after affairs—

Your Servant Brother Rival—You see Widow, what power your beauty has to make Rivals Friends and em­brace— as thus—Mr. Noddy, your Servant.

Your Slaves slave, to the third and fourth Genera­tion, Sir Gregory.

Sir Gregory you were remiss in your duty to day—

Your pardon, your pardon Widow—but when, when will the blest day arrive that I shall take possession of my treasure in thee, Widow?

In a day or two I shall make my Choice Sir Gregory, and then?—

[Page 16]

And then to bed Widow, ha Lady bright!— this Noddy's a very Ass, Gazer a Gull.—

A couple of Fops—but Sir Gregory!

I understand you, a kiss for the Conceit sake, Widow.

A murrion on him, how my mouth waters—what a cursed thing is modesty.

If conceit will strike the stroke, have at the Widows Plumb-tree, I'le put 'em all down for a Banquet, Widow, and Gentlemen, my Friends and Servants, I make you wait long here for a Batchelor's pitance—

Oh Sir, you are pleas'd to be modest—

No by my troth Widow, you shall find me otherwise.

How's this? the Twelve Months for our Plates, and the Twelve Signs for our Treat,

These are the signs of my Love Widow—

I am sorry you should be at such Charges, Sir, to feast us a whole Month together—

Widow th'art welcome a month, a year, for ever to me—

What are those brought in the Banquet?

My Tenants they stand for Fasting dayes.

Or the weeks in Lent.

Y'are in the right, Sir Gregory, sweet Widow take your place here at Aries, that's the head sign; a Widow is the head till she is married—

But married, what is she then?—

The middle, the middle Widow— Sir Gregory Love­much, pray sit here at Taurus, they say y' are a good Town-Bull.

Spare your Friends, Sir—

Mr. Noddy don't fall back so—here's Gemini for you Sir; for you had two chopping Boyes by your last Wife—

[Page 17]

No harm in that, Sir, the Widow may like me the better—

But, Sir, methinks your Signs are not perfect, your Tenants would do well to help fill the Table—

By th' Mass it's true, Widow—Tenants for once sit down with your Harts on; but spare the Meat I charge you, as you hope for new Leases, I must make my Signs draw out a month yet, with a bit every morning at breakfast, and at Full Moon with a whole one; that's restorative, sit round, sit round, and do not speak good Tenants, You may be bold enough, so you eat but little: How like you this, Widow?—

It showes well, Sir—

By my troth, Widow, I'm sick that day my Table's empty; I wish some Ghest or other to fill that gapp there—

Indeed the Feet for want of covering may catch cold, and then the head will quickly feel it—

Why then you may draw up your Leggs and lye roun­der together.

In troth, Madam, my Neighbour's a Notable Wagg—

His Witt encreases with his eating.

Gentlemen, your Servants.

Another Suitor? then Pisces will be covered.

Madam, youl'e pardon my Intrusion; I heard your mirth, and thought a sober Gentleman might be admitted to partake—

There needs no excuse, Sir, and with that Gentleman's leave I intreat you to sit and do as we do.

Young Gentleman pray sit, Y'are heartily welcome by Ceres.

Pray make room for the Gentleman—

Sit still Tenants, I'le call in all your Old Leases, and wrack you else.

Sirrah, Take my Hat and Sword—

Then Sir, you mean he shall sit as he comes?

[Page 18]

I, and he were a Lord he shall not sit above my Te­nants, I'le not have two Lords to 'em; so I may look for my Rent in another man's breeches.

Gentlemen sit still, I'le disturb no body, but here take my fortune—

If you love Fish, pray fall too, Sir; had you come sooner, you might hapned among some of the Flesh signs, but now they are all taken up; Virgo had bin a good Dish for you, had not one of my Tenants bin somewhat too busie with her.

I'm extreamly pleas'd with my Fortune here, Sir, 'tis the conceited'st Banquet I ever met with—

What say you to a bit of Taurus?

The Bull's too rank for me—

How Sir?

Too rank, Sir? does it offend you?

Forbear, or I shall strike you as dumb as your wa­tery Kindred—

With your heels or horns?

Perhaps with both—

It must be when I am asleep then.

It's a brave Girle, and nobly managed.

Hold Gentlemen, for the sake of Mankind let not the Planets fall out; for if they destroy one another, what a world of abortive births, we shall have—Sirrah, run and fetch my Sun Cupp, his Beams shall disperse these clouds of Conten­tion.

Sir, I make it my request to you, to sit—

Madam, you are obey'd—

Each look I take encreases my desires, such charms I never saw before; and shou'd he not be a Servant, my hopes will be all defeated.

How is't Widow? Gentlemen chear up, fair weather in all Quarters; the Sun will rise anon, I've sent for him— Oh here he comes—Sing sirrah, sing the Song I gave you.

Now fill it to the Widow—

What's here a Sun?

It does betoken, Madam, a chearful day to some body.

Gentlemen, my Service to ye all; for ye know the Sun must go through the Twelve Signs—

Most witty Widow, you jump with my Conceit; there's not a hair between us.

Give it Sir Gregory.

I am the next through whom the Golden flame must shine, the poor Feet there must wait and cool a while.

My time will come, Sir—

So round it goes— Fill it him again, Sirrah—

Fill't me? why I drank last, Sir.

I know you did, but Gemini must drink twice, unless you mean that one of 'em should be choak't.

[Page 20]

Well Mr. Gazer, y'are a merry Man—

Fly from my heart all variable thoughts; she that's entic'd by every pleasing object, shall find small Pleasure, and as little Rest—

Sir Gregory Lovemuch—

With your pardon, Madam, is this Sir Gregory, Lovemuch?

I am, Sir, I dare own my name—

There's a rank Villain bears that name; are you of that Family, Sir?

How, Sir?

Nay Sir, by Heav'n stit still—leave roaring, I in­tend anon to bait you—

Yet agen? if you love me Gentlemen, let's have no roaring here—If I had thought of this, I'd have sent my Bull to the Bear-Garden.

Sirrah, commend my Love and Service to the Wi­dow, desire her Ladiship to taste that Morsel—

This is the Bitt I watch't for all this while.

And wherein has this name of mine offended, that you are so liberal of your infamous Titles? I am a stranger to thee, but it must be known Sir, e're we two part—

And good reason Sir—I don't intend to end so calmly with you; for my pretious Sir, I design to cut your Throat.

Oh strike me dead! what's here—this should be your hand, Sir Gregory.

Undoubtedly, 'tis one of the Letters I sent to you, Widow.

Much good may do ye Gentlemen—

Niggers, noggers, what ailes the Widow—

The Widow paints White, some Aqua Coelestis there, quickly—

Oh Treachery unmatch't, unheard of Villany!

How do you, Madam?—

O impudence! does my Disease ask how I do? can it [Page 21] torment my heart, and look with a fresh colour in my face?

What means the Widow?

What qualm is this, Madam? I hope my Ram does not stick in your stomach.

No, but an Old Leacherous Goat, a false Villain does— He that wou'd know a Villain when he meets him, let him look here; Here is a Glass will reflect his perfect Character— Oh thou preserver of my state, pray tell me, Sir,

that I may pay you all my Thanks together, what blessed acci­dent brought that Letter to your hand, which has been long kept secret from me in my Enemies power?

Please you to retire, Madam, I shall unfold this Rid­dle—

Thou Basilisk to Virtue out of my sight, and ne're come near me more—Gentlemen pray come in and partake of a Story which may prove beneficial to you—

We follow, Madam—

Niggars, Sir, why don't you budge?—s'heart thrust him out.

Out of my dores thou treacherous Fox—

All Curses scatter you—

Do you thunder? if you had staid I'd have made bold to have ript out some of my Bull out of your belly again—

Now for the Widow, since the Knight's remov'd, I am resolv'd to get drunk, infuse confidence, be very rude, and then they say a Widow will yield.

Come, Brother Rival, let us to the Widow, and learn of her what Treachery this is—

Thus far my Wifes designs are successful; now to my Charge, I must find out her Brother, and bring him hither to my Wife; what she intends I know not.

SCENE the Second.

My designs work rarely! well, if I go on and prosper, my Statute, when I dye, shall be set up in Brass with an Inscri­ption, Here lyes the Machiavel of Love Intreigues—The two Young Blades are close at it on a wrong scent, whilst the Old Men are ready to dissolve with joy.

Oh come, come, are you there, Sir?—

Life! what's the matter now?

There's a new Reckoning come in since I saw you last.

Pox on't, I thought all had bin paid, I hate after-reckonings.

Pray come near Sir, let's be acquainted with you—

You honour me too much, Sir.—

Sirrah, Y'are impudence is great, nay you have bin bold enough too with my purse abroad, if I am rightly in­form'd; by Gogmagog if it be true, I'le have thee hang'd, drawn and quarter'd.

Who, I bold with your purse, Sir?

Yes you Sirrah—did not you bring me word about Ten Weeks since, my Wife was dead?

Yes, true Sir, very true Sir.

Pray stay, Sawce-box, and hear me out; and did not you likewise say, That with the Money I sent to defray my Wifes Charges, she being, as you did aver, dead, you brought home my Daughter, whom by accident you met with at Antwerp?

Right as can be, Sir, I never found your Worship in a false Tale yet.

I thank you for your good word, Sir; but I'm like to find your Worship in two at once.

I should be sorry to hear that, Sir.—

[Page 23]

I believe you Sir—within this month my Wife was alive (which a Dutch Merchant, Father to this Boy who was just now with me, will justifie), so there's six Weeks of your Ten abated.

Strange! how men are grown to lying; that it is false, I'le justifie it with my life, Sir: I'm sure, poor Lady, I dropt a Tear over her Grave; so did my Young Master too— if this Merchant were here, I'de tell him to his face that he wears a double Tongue; that is, Dutch and English—will the Boy say it, Sir?—

Yes that he would, could you understand him; for he speaks nothing but Dutch.

All the better, I'le gabble something to him—

Hoiste kaloiste kalooskin se vou, Dar Zun alla gaskin?

Ick wet neat watt bey zackt, Ick vnverston ewe neat.

I thought as much—

What sayes the Boy?

He sayes his Father is troubled with an imperfection at one time of the Moon—

Does the Boy say so?

I knew there was something in't—your Wife alive! will you believe all Tales, Sir?

But Sir he told me he saw this Wench you brought home, at Antwerp in an Inn: he tells me I am plainly cousen­ed, and that she's not my Daughter.

All's discovered—how Sir, not your Daughter? I must to't again.

Quisquivikin Sadlamara alla pisskickin sows clows, hoff tofte le cumbershaw, bouns buss boxseeno.

Ick an sawth no int hein clappon de heeke, I dinke vte zein zennon.

Oh ho! zein zennon! I thought I should find it out at hast; The Boy sayes they never came near Antwerp, but a quite contrary way, round about by— Parnia.

What means he by Zein Zennon, Sam?

That is, he saw no such Wench in an Inn; 'tis well I came so opportunely to get it out of the Boy before his Father [Page 24] comes: pray be wary Sir, the World is subtle, come and pre­tend a charitable business, meerly to work out a piece of mony on you.

Mass art advis'd of that?

The Age is cunning, Sir; besides, a Dutchman will live upon any ground, and work Butter out of a Thistle.

Troth thou sayes true in that; they're the best thri­vers in Turneps, Cabidges, and Hartichokes, our English are not like 'em.

Oh fye Sir, whe the Treat that a States-man of Hol­land gives, would either choak or starve an English man, dryed Stock-fish, pickled Herring, or the like, Sir.—

Sam. ask him from whence they came when they came hither.

That I will, Sir—Culluaron lagooso, lageen, lagan, rufft, punkatee.

Nime aweigh de cack.

What, what? I cannot blame him then.

What says he to thee?

The poor Boy blushes for him, he tells me his Father came from making merry with certain of his Countrey-men, and he's a little steept in English Beer; there's no heed to be taken of his Tongue now.

Why this is strange, how camest thou by all this? the Devil take me if I heard him speak above three words to you.

Oh Sir, the Dutch is a very wide Language, you shall have Ten English words go to the Explaining of one Dutch— As for example, Gulldergoose—there's a word for you, Master.

Why what is that same— Gull—Gull—Gullder­goose, ha?

The English is—How do you and all your Genera­tion?

Why 'tis impossible, 'tis impossible, man—

Thus I prove it by the Explanation, Sir,—Gull—how do you? der, and; Goose,—your Generation.

Methinks the Language is a little sawcey— Goose, my generation—quoth a? but sirrah, how came you to under­stand Dutch so well?

[Page 25]

By going to fetch home my Young Mistress, Sir, we had in our Company a Young Frokin, who taught us it in a trice, Sir.—

What in a moneths time?

I'le undertake, Sir, in a Fortnights time you shall speak as good Dutch as any Native of Holland, if you would learn, Sir—I shall be tript anon—pox on't wou'd I were fairly off—

Ile go seek out your Son, Sir; You shall hear what Thunder he'le bring with him—

Do so, for I le have ye all face to face—

Cuds me what Else, Sir,—If you take me so near the Net agen, I le give you leave to wring my Neck off— I am come off fairly: We are undone in Dutch, all our Three months Rognery is come over in a Butter-Firkin.

By Gogmagog an intricate bus'ness this; I am so lost between two Tales, I know not which to trust,—The Boy is the likeliest to tell truth; for he is not yet old enough to un­derstand iniquity—but then why should the Father tell me a lie, he gets nothing, certainly expects nothing; but by my troth if he does expect, he gets nothing of me, and so much good may it do him—but however, I'le in and examine the business further—

ACT III. SCENE I.

I Have sent in to the Widow—

Thou plyest thy business close—the Coast is clear yet—that was a good surprise you put upon Sir Gregory—

I found him the sensiblest Fool of the three to whom the Widow was inclin'd; therefore ought to be re­mov'd— be sure, Husband, to stand Sentinel, and let me have warning when they come, and I'le rout 'em all—

I'm gone my Witty Sweet—

My Lady, Sir, begs your pardon for making you wait, and she will be with you so soon as she has dispatcht some of her Tenants come from Kent.

Thank you Sir, 'tis fit I should attend her leisure.

Those were my Tenants once, but what relief now; yet e're we part, Widow, I shall have full revenge—Your heart is mine already, and when the whole Cargoe's in my power, I'le hoist my sailes, and with my streams playing in the Aire, make to the blest Harbour of repose—

Wife, the pair of Fools are come just now lighted out of the Coach,—

Now to your duty—for I shall deal a little rough­ly with you, but you must not take it ill; for my obedience is in my Pettycoat Pocket, and not about me at present.

Use me as you please—

I hear 'em coming—help me a little—Now step back and be very cere­monious— Where be those Fellowes, who looks out there? Is there ne're a Rascal

in the way to conduct the Gentlemen in—I find I am like to be finely served among ye, but I shall set a new face on the house e're it be long—how sneakingly do you stand there: but I shall make you flye to receive and execute Commands, before I have done.

This is most insupportable! what beating your Man! hold Sir, what mean you?—

[Page 27]

I begg your pardon—Gentlemen your Servant— Sirrah call your Mistress, tell her I wonder she stayes so long? Gentlemen you must pardon Womens frailties, their decking and trimming themselves, make 'em often commit such rude­ness.

How's this? nay then we are chous'd—and I have spent both time and money to a fair end—

What a new Lord in the Widows house?—would I were fairly off; for I'le lay my life he has struck the Widow in a fair Planet—let me see, let me see— Venus in Cauda? then 'tis too true, for that's a damn'd Leacherous [...]lanet.

Sir, Your Servant—

By my faith you shall not stir till you have seen Isbel, make haste and desire your Mistress to come down—

She desires to be excus'd, Sir, the Milliner has brought Gloves to show her—

How plain Isbel? Then I know how the world goes, ay, ay, too true, he has Isbell d her—a Pox on these Wi­dows, there's no trust in 'em—

They are gall'd—the Rogues begin to sneak—

Come, let us steal off, and take no notice of him, for he'l jear us to death should we stay—Love is not by desert, but such fluttering half-witted Hectoring Blades are the only taking men with you buxome Widows—come away.

What, Gentlemen are you for the Wine-Cellar?— Sirrah conduct 'em down, by that time you have drank your Mornings draught Isbel will be ready—

Spare your Wine Sir, I beseech you—for since the Widow is dispos'd of—we have no business here.

I'le see the Wine in a Drunkard's shoe first, and drink't after he has brew'd it—Hang her, let her go, she's fitted yfaith; a proud domineering young Coxcomb—he'l quickly rattle her bones, and go to Dice with her Money, or at least pick up some common Orange-wench, set up her Coach, gay Cloaths, teach her to confront his Wife, and laugh Modesty out of Countenance, or I have no skill in Astrology; if he is so sawcy now to call her plain Isbel, she'l be Bitch and Whore be­fore a Month comes about—

They have given you the slip—

[Page 28]

Hang 'em—there are three rubs past—and now for the Widow. Thus like a younger Brother I'le begin my fortune, put on impudence, talk wantonly,—and ruffle her lustily.

But if she should yield, what then—

Well consider'd, to prevent that, you must step in most officiously, and interrupt us—but she's coming—

Adieu witty Wife, and I le be sure to stand Cen­tinel.

My life, my Dear!

I fear I have tired your patience with my long stay Sir—

Who wou'd not be devout, and out-wait patience, when such a Heaven is the reward—but Widow, y'are in­debted to me—

As how, I pray—

I love you Widow; nay, laugh not, for I expect return, or look to your self, for I'm resolv'd to sue thee in Cupid's Court, and there I know what decree will pass—

But if I would compound, pray Sir, what will satisfie?

The endless enjoying thy sweet self, Widow, no­thing less—

So by compounding a small Debt I may run into a greater—

Your credit will be the better, there's many a young Blade would give you half the purchase to trust you,— nay, and pay use for it.

Some of those roaring Bawdy talking young fellows would be idle, were it for such interest.

Then 'tis a match—Come Widow, short service, a kiss and to bed, for I am desperately hungry yfaith—

Y'are in great haste, Sir—

Troth Widow, I have an excellent stomach— and to provoke thine; know, that my kisses are Virgins, embraces perfect, strength sollid, love constant, but to come to the point, all extasie, rapture!

[Page 29]

Since you value your self on your honesty, I'le put you to't Sir,—Will you swear you never knew Woman—

By all that's good, and by thy sweet self I swear, that never as Man I ever yet knew Woman—but if we do not agree, faith Madam, I expect you keep it secret, for it may spoil my future being; for a sober man is more ridiculous in this Age, then he was priz'd in the last—

How his mein and wit surprize me—Well, I find I shall love him; for I am very apt to believe what he says—

Are you considering whether you may believe me or not, Madam—then take altogether—for I add further, that you are the first Widow, Maid, or Wife I ever made love to—

There's ne'r a Jury of young Women in Town that were to view you, but would be inclined to find you guilty— therefore, Sir, I am apt to believe there is some secret reason, and not Devotion keeps you from it—

None by Heav'n—I kept it in reserve for thee—

For Me, Sir?—

Where can I bestow it better—

What means this insolence and rudeness, Sir?

Fye, Widow, fye, 'tis pleasing violence, that be­gets delight.

I'le call my Servants, Sir,—

Do, and I le use thee ten times worse even before witness, and then thou art my own Widow—Come, come, dear, sweet, inticeing Widow, we must withdraw—we must yfaith, now, now, or never Widow.

Does your Worship call?

Pox on you Dog, are you peeping?

Thanks good Tom, thou camest in the critical Minute

But Sir, let us breath a while, what Encouragement have I given you to make you thus confident and forward, Sir?—

[Page 30]

Love, powerful resistless Love—you see what Mad-men you Women make us—Come, Madam, few words, kind consent and no Ceremonies are most pleasing—

Well, I cannot withstand, for I begin to grow as im­patient as he is, within there who waits?—

If Mr. Gazer and Noddy are below, bring 'em up.—

I've lost my Widow, I fear, there are but two ways that I know, which leads to a Widows bed; they are, Wealth and Impudence—Now if I have took the wrong, how I shall curse my self; here they are, now love if it be thy will.

Gentlemen, y'are welcom, I am now fully resolved to choose one of ye here, let me see—but first, Mr. Gazer, you are a judicious Astrological Person, do the Stars smile to day? if not, I will defer my choice.

Let me see—Oh the best time in the world, Ma­dam; for just now Mars being Lord of the Ascendant, is en­tering into the house of Venus—about three Minutes three quarters after Eleven this morning—

That's well—and Mr. Noddy, your judgment of that person walking there, what think you of him.

What I think?—Why I think he's well made, has a aiery mein, I believe he has a pretty Judgment, for his Trim­ings and Cloaths are not very contemptible—but I believe he's a Whore-master, for he has notable waggish Eyes.

Then bear all witness, this is the Man whom I have chose to be my Husband—and ye will infinitely oblige me if you come to my Wedding, and so your Ser­vants.

The Devil go with you—

I ne'r suspected my Almanack till now.

Now Gentlemen, I can give you a true invitation and welcom, before 'twas but a flourish; but you see Fortune will be the bold Adventurers friend—

That I should over-look this damn'd Eclipse of the [Page 31] Moon, which was this morning, tho not visible to us; but I wish it may have power here, and by a forked Influence, make him beat her, she Cuckold him, he turn her out of Doors, and with her Estate maintain a Whore—

Amen say I,—Sir, your Servant, your Servant.

A fair riddance of a brace of Fools.

But see your Brother's come—

I intend to set his wit to work.

Sir, this is my Master.—

You see, Sir, I have obey'd your Summons sent me by your man, and now I wou'd know your pleasure?

Thus receive your welcom, Sir,—and now I have a request to you.

Name it, Sir, if it consists with honour, and within my power you may conclude it granted Sir—

'Tis for your Sisters sake I make it.

You have named the dearest friend I have, and I can deny nothing is desir'd in her Name.

'Tis this, that you would honour my Wedding, which is to be to Morrow, with some small entertainments of your wit—and you are void of all Excuses; for I have been an ear witness of your Sisters frequent commendations of your parts.

You oblige me with the Injunction; Is it with the Lady of this house you Marry, Sir?—

The same—

Then I must recall my promise Sir—

Your reason,—

Her last Husband was an extorting Villain, and has undone our Family, and now enjoys what is mine and my Sisters due.

But Sir, for her sake, comply for once—She shall not know who you are, but shall be obliging to you—and your Sister too to my knowledg will give you thanks.

You have prevail'd, Sir—

[Page 32]

Pray Sir, be pleas'd to walk in, that, I may recom­mend you to my Wife that must be—

I wait on you, Sir,—Now if I should in my Sisters absence strike up the Widow—Gad I'le try—and this will be a good opportunity to attempt it.

Madam, I pitty your misfortune, and if there be any thing wherein I can serve you, you may command it.

You are all obliging, Sir,—My Husband is now below, trying what he can do with his Mother, who is unexpectedly arrived, after being reported to have been dead two years—

That was a contrivance of my Friend Santloe's, occa­sion'd by your Beauty, which had such an Influence over him, that he ventur'd a Fathers Anger to oblige his Passion—

Oh friend, Fortune begins once more to smile upon my Actions, and has favour'd me in this last Enterprize be­yond my wish—

As how—Prithee inform us, that we may partake your joys—

Honest Sam.—

Who helps a lame Dog o're the Stile as well as the best.

Put me upon perswading my Mother to make my Fa­ther believe, that my dear Wife here is my Sister; but the reason she knows not—

And my Mistress, like a kind overjoy'd Mother to see her white Boy, most readily consented,—so that, Madam, if you at last should not be well gifted by Nature, as the rest of Females are, with Dissimulation, all our designs are spoiled, and you must trudg to Antwerp agen; for as sure as death, my old Master will turn ye both out of Doors.—

'Tis an hard task for me, however I'le endeavour, what is't I wou'd not undergo, or suffer, for my dear Husband's sake—

[Page 33]

They are coming—Now Sweet heart carry thy self— bravely now—and let fortune do her worst—for we are for ever happy.

I'le withdraw—

And have I thee in my Arms agen? Look see, I weep for Joy—had I my Daughter too; but the Dutch Merchant told me the thing I have of their bringing over was a Servant in Antwerp, and not my Child—

They cannot deceive me, Sir, let me see her, and I shall soon discover their cheat, if it be one—Now heart hold, and let my tongue for once belye thee—

Take courage Love—

Lass how I tremble!—

See there, Sweet heart, what a piece of flesh they have brought me, that is the creature would be my supposed Daughter; but by Gogmagog, if she is a Cheat, I'le have her stript and whipt through every Parish, and cross the Seas till she arrives to her old Kitchin at Antwerp agen.

Bless her Eternal Powers! my life, my comfort, and my nine years grief; but now my joyes, thrice welcom to thy Mothers arms, 'tis she, my Daughter—receive your Child, and thank Heaven for her wonderful restoration—

What, what's this?

Kind Mother—I shall love Dissimulation for thy sake, who would not, that heard thee swear, conclude this not Counterfeit.—

My Daughter! it cannot be—no, no, I shall ne'r believe it—

Down on your knees—

Rise into my bosom, and receive a Mothers blessing.

Soft Wife, soft, have a care how you place your blessing; for the Dutch Merchant who came over with you, affirmed, he saw her a Servant at an Inn in Antwerp—

She was so, Sir,—I often saw her there; but see­ing she had acquir'd to an honest way of living, I would not disturb her rest by discovering her misfortunes—forgive [Page 34] me truth, if I abuse thee with a false story, since 'tis to pre­serve mutual love betwixt an injur'd Father, and beloved Son.

Daughter Clarina! Let me kiss thee wench—This unexpected joy has forc't tears, and my heart's so full with this surprize, I know not what to say—My joys are now com­pleat, and this days happiness has countervail'd all my past years of sorrow for my long lost dearest Wife, and Daugh­ter—

Mr. Sanders here, by Gogmagog, the Girl is yours.

I'm proud of this mighty present, Sir, and thus I hug it as Misers do their Gold.

I hope, Sir, I may be once more credited.

Honest, honest Son, I have wrong'd thy faith; but thou wilt pardon me, I hope; old men are apt to suspect Youth for Wags, that was the reason.

Now I may securely venture my head out of my Covert.

Where's Sam: that honest merry fellow? I must have his pardon too.

Look you Sir, I am very merciful, good natur'd, and prone to forgive; and to show that I have no malice in my heart, if you have another Wife or Daughter to find, and Money to spend, I shall be very ready to serve you, Sir—

Come hither, Sirrah, let me hugg thee, and take my Curse from your Knave's Shoulders.

For Heav'ns sake do, Sir, I feel it on my blade here, your Curse is at least ten Stone weight, and a pound over, Sir.

I'le do thee right Boy, I ne'r knew thee but speak ho­nest English, marry in Dutch, I found thee a knave lately.

That was only to hold you in play, Sir, till further proofs came over.

By Gogmagog, I love a harmless wit with my life— Well, 'tis my Girl, methinks her Eyes, Nose and Mouth strangely resemble her Mothers there—ay, ay, 'tis she, and there's an end; however I'le try further—Wife, Wife, pri­thee now kiss me, do I say—

Clarina, be obedient, and come and buss your Father—

[Page 35] Very good, 'tis so, now I'le swear 'tis she; for they have both the same way of kissing too; now Wife, since I find that my Daughter is my Daughter, I'le prosecute my first intention, and this Gentleman shall have her for his Wife.

I am proud of the honour, Sir,—

Observe Wife, observe, he is one that handles his Tongue as well as most men, a very Genteil Person, and as pretty a Spark as e're made love, or kept Miss, I le say that for him—I'le be sworn by his looks no one wou'd take him for an Eunuch—

My design succeeds as I cou'd wish—

Nay, I have not forgot my Son too, for I have found a Wife for him, it is the Widow Landwels Neice, the Daugh­ter of old Morley lately dead, her own fortune, it's true, is none of the greatest; but her Aunt questionless will give her a swingeing Blessing when she dies; it is the same Maid Euge­nia, that was Nurst with our Clarina; well, it is a pretty crea­ture by Gogmagog, she's a Nosegay of Beauty and sweet Con­ditions, how say you to't—Boy—ha?—

The Blessing will be greater than I could ever have expected, Sir,—

What fortune was this! that I should come so op­portunely to see my happiness compleated in the Marriage of my two Children.

Well thought on Wife, I had almost forgot, we are invited to the Widows Wedding, with a bold brisk young Spark that has clapt her on board yfaith—Do you and your Daughter put on your Hoods and Scarfs, and we'l expect you below in the Parlor; come, Mr. Sanders, come along with me—

Oh Mother, I am so transported with those new Joys, you kindly have created, I know not which way to be­gin to pay my Duty.

But Son, the more I look on her, the more thy Sister runs in my mind.

Perhaps she's like her, that will carry on the Cheat the better, Madam.

[Page 36]

I must examine her—of what Countrey and Pa­rentage are you?

Of England, Madam,—and many are the afflictions I have undergone—so that my Parentage I have forgot—

If it will not renew your sorrows, give us a small relation of what has past.

So much as my memory will give me leave—for I was not above seven years old when my Mother carried me be­yond Sea, which was about ten years since, with a design to put me into a Nunnery; but by the way to Antwerp, we met with Robbers, who stript us, convey'd me from my Mother into a Wood; but they having committed several Outrages, were persued by Soldiers, so they left me, and I wandring about, came at last to Antwerp, and was received by the Mi­stress of an Inn, where I continued a Servant till this Gentle­man perswaded me to come to England.

Oh my blest fortune! my dearest Child, thrice wel­com to my Arms—

S'life if this should prove his Sister now—

Look you Mother, my Father's gone—now you may be plain—

I am sorry he is—but l'le hast to him to confirm what before I only for your sake averr'd, but did not then know the truth.

But I hope you are not in earnest Mother, that it is my Sister.

Witness Heav'n it is your Sister—

Hold, hold, good Mother—Kill not your Son— Why I am in love with her Mother, and have made her my Wife.

But now your love must end as to Marriage, and with a Brothers Eyes you must look upon her—Come Daughter, let us go down to your Father, who shall redouble his joys when he shall know the Truth—

Heav'ns! I love him so, I cou'd wish my self any thing but his Sister—farewel for ever Love, since thus I am de­ceiv'd in my first desires.

My Sister, that Northern blast has nipt my bloom­ing joys—must all my Courtship, Expence and Constancy, [Page 37] ay, Constancy, Sam. be jilted by the resurrection of a long lost Sister.

A Pox on her, say I, she was ever a cross Brat when she was young, and now she has liv'd in spight to cross your love.

It cannot be my Sister—for I find no alteration in me, I am in good temper, and my mind's not shook at that dreadful name of Sister—therefore I am certain there is some damn'd riddle in't, which we cannot at present ex­pound.

To make us wise enough, Sir, let us to the Widows Wedding, drink briskly, and then with nodding gravity un­sold this mysterie if it be one.

Agreed—

ACT IV, SCENE I.

COme Gentlemen, since you are pleas'd to honour me with acting my little Essay of fancy, please you to retire and dress, for they are ready to enter.

Worthy Sir, we follow you—

I shall attend you within.

By Mercury, a neat contrivance, Sir Gregory I applaud your wit.

Tis a profound device, an extravagant fancy, and an insupportable design; and Sir Gregory, I am in an intolle­rable Consternation of your Penicranium—

This will be a brave opportunity to affront her for deceiving us—are all perfect in their parts, Rail and spare not, for that is all that we are like to have for our Expences on the Jilting Widow.

[Page 38]

I am ready in mine—

And mine is in Capite.

Let us in to dress then—Widow, look too't, we'll all your scorns repay.

Your Sun of Joys shall be Eclips'd to day.

Your Market shall be marr'd too, as they say—

But prithee tell me, art thou in earnest, my Sister?

So our ill fate will have it, but so much I love, that I cou'd wish I were not.

Pox on Kindred—like noble Savage, I wou'd range and choose my Mistress where I pleas'd—now must sacred Love be curb'd, and pleasures lost, and all long of dull fanta­stick Law.

We must submit, for Reason tells us it wou'd be a Sin, should we pursue our Love—

Friend, I can but pitty thy misfortunes in losing of a Mistress, but must congratulate your Joyes in finding of a Sister. Now, fair Eugenia, shall I at last receive the fair reward for all my Constancy? speak kindly, and return my love with yours—and then I'm happy—

Faith Madam, yield—do not cast away a handsom proper man, for so small a toy; my Sister here has bin more kind to me, than hitherto you have prov'd to him—

My Aunts to rule my fate, and I must choose a Hus­band with her liking, I'le make it known to her, and if she approves of it, Heav'n knows, I can enjoy no greater happi­ness— for without blushing, I confess, I love—

Oh my kind Saint!

Sanders, to your Post, see where they come—But do'st hear, prithee do not make love to her, for by Heav'n, tho she's my Sister, I shall grow wondrous Jealous, and conse­quently quarrelsom.

Come my long wisht for Lady, your happy return is a second feast to me.

Ye'are all most freely welcom—

We thank you, Sir—

But is my Brother, do you say, so much in love with my Widow?

I overheard him but now complaining on his destiny that should make him so desperately in love with your Enemy, that I thought he would have rebelled against himself, there's such a mighty feud between the two old Enemies in his Breast, Love and Honour.

Lass poor man—I wish he had my place to day, he is abler than I to perform the duty that belongs to a young Widow.

Come Gentlemen, pray sit—that worthy friend of yours, Madam, is pleased to entertain us for a while, and now I suppose they are ready to enter—

Madam, here you may before-hand read the Argu­ment of what I do design—Now Love, prove but so kind to inspire her with an equal slame, make her a true Widow, and my young Spark I shall soon grast on your Stock—

Ha, what's here? a Letter inclos'd, this must be conceal'd till a fitter time to be read—

We are oblig'd to you, for this Nights diversion, and shall study a requital—If my young Blade here proves a fa­shionable keeping Husband, this Gentleman, if his Letter speaks of love, shall not long languish, nor despair—for I like him strangely—

See here, Sir, the Argument is pretty—

[Page 40]

Good, she has convey'd the Letter as I cou'd wish, now half my toyle is over—Madam, they are Entering—

Heart! Who should this be?—Some Rogue— but I'le let'em take their swing—and afterwards will be fully Reveng'd.

Upon my word, Monsieur Fire is a notable hot Sati­rical Blade—

What should my Brother mean to rail so—

[Page 41]

'Tis so, some Rascal's crept in on purpose to disgrace me; but I'm resolv'd they shall share in my disgrace—

By Gog Magog, a notable sharp Air this, Madam—

He has perfumed the Room well—

A man may smell her meaning two Rooms off, tho his Nose wanted reparations—

Prithee step out, and knovv vvhat his meaning is, is this the Entertainment I promised to my self?—

His love sure has made him mad—but I'le go know the Cause—

Help, help, help; Murder—Murder—

Widow, for Heav'ns sake, intercede for us to the Devils—

Oh law, what will my Mother and Sister say, when they hear I am carried away by the Devil—

Who are ye, discover your selves then?

By Charles's Wain, don't you know me?

Why look you, d'ye see, it is I, it is I—

My old Suiters, we are all oblig'd to you, my Masters, you have taken great pains to make your selves Ridi­culous— [Page 43] —ha,—ha,—Pray Sir release 'em for my sake—

You may Command, Madam, let 'em down there—

Thanks good Widow.

Whe faith since we were to lose you, Madam, we thought losers might have leave to speak, and therefore by offering our Service to this Gentleman, we got this oppor­tunity to speak a little of our minds to you—

And I think we have pretty freely, and at our own Costs too; for I owe Money for some of the Painting—but the Planets are sufficient to pay the Painter—

If ever I court Widow again for your sake, may I be made a Pissing-post of; well, I find Widows are confounded insupportable witty Devils.

We are all oblig'd to you, Sir, for this discovery.

My shame, Madam, urg'd me to contrive some way to discover the Authors of my disgrace—But, Madam, to divert you I have brought a Servant of mine to entertain you with a Dance—

I am indebted to you for this favour, Sir—Please Gentlemen to walk in and partake of a small Collation, and then, my Dear, we will retire to surfeit on Loves sweets—

We follow you, Sir—

Curse on ill luck! What a Devil should be become of this Sister of mine, had she not promised to get the Widow for me, I had not slipt the opportunity which now is irrecovera­bly lost, she's Married! now the Pox or Impotence be his Curse, for I cannot with patience see my self thus chous't— ha—here comes my brisk Bridegroom—good, I have thought on an excellent way, if possible, to retrieve her— I'le wheadle him to drink, make him damnably drunk, so consequently impotent, and a Widow disappointed, turns De­vil, will sue a divorce, and then she's mine.—

Oh Sir, most opportunely met—are you alone?—

Yes, Sir,—Your Pleasure—

I am come to—cut your Throat.

How Sir!—cut my Throat, you'l give me a rea­son, Sir, for it, I hope—

I saw what amorous glances past between my Wife and you at Dinner, and since too I have discovered that which has rais'd such a Storm within me, that nothing but thy death can restore my former calmness—

Jealous by this light—I hope he has not met with my Letter I convey'd to the Widow—

Heav'ns Sir, what jealous on the first night!

I am all rage with jealousie, your Letter, Sir— see there the reason, Villain, and then judg if I can pardon such an injury—Therefore prepare to yield up either Life, or Love—

Nay, Sir, since you have discovered my passion, then know I do, must, and will love your Widow, nay, dote upon the sight of her, and yet no harm to you, since you possess the wealth, you cannot barr a longing stander by, to wish and sigh, since you know 'tis in vain; therefore I will persist— ah 'tis a charming Creature!

Hell and Furies! shall I stand tamely still, and hear a fellow boldly to my face proclaim my Infamy!

A fellow, Sir▪ Provoke me not, I say provoke me not; if you do, by Heav'n, if possible, I'le cuckol'd thee be­fore thy face—

This is beyond all patience, base Villain draw—

Pish Sir, your little Bodkin frights not me, see I have one can match it—Yet I believe thee Valiant, or such a little whipper-ginnie durst not have been so desperate to have ventur'd on a longing Widow—

How, Sir, have at thy heart!—

Good Child, thou art too forward,—reserve thy vigour for another place, it will be little enough, I'le engage— for young, Sir, there can be no comparison between you and I, in love affairs—

[Page 45]

How mean you Sir?

You may perhaps be well enough for the Theory, to cringe, and whine, and wheadle your self into a Virgins heart; but a Widows wise discerning Eye must of necessity read here the only man that's fittest for the Practick part—

Heav'ns! Do but hereafter look upon her with one pleasing glance, and I'le damn thy Soul.

A Bully in Swadling-clouts by this light, 'tis the youngest Hector I ever met with in my life—a gad, little Squire, were she the great Turk's favourite, I'de look and gaze altho I knew my death should follow, and let me tell thee, had somebody been true to their promise, your fortune had been mine—therefore, little one, you may thank my cross Stars for your good success. A Pox on an absent Sister—

How Sir, oblig'd to you? Oh insupportable! thou base detracter of my honour, who not only would supplant my love, but blast my reputation, and make me undeserving of a Ladies favour.

If you come to that point, Sir, what can you boast of, should be so attractive? I must confess thou appearest a hopeful Stripling, and I question not you have the pretty im­pertinents of one of your Age, as Dancing, Singing, affected Gestures, be peirtly witty, making bold with every new Play comes out, and extravagantly tawdrey in every new fashion.

Death and the Devil!

These accomplishments, I must confess, may be very surprizing to a poor young thing of a Boarding-School, who never had love made to her but by her Dancing-Master, or some such follow.

This is beyond all sufferance—

This won't do—and now, little one, I le dis­charge my Conscience, between you and I, I do verily be­lieve, the Widow that was, and your Wife that is, Married you only for a Drudg or Steward of her Estate, while she spends it on pleasures, with such vigorous Blades as my self, and who knows it may be my turn; which if it be, faith [Page 46] I'le be very reasonable, and Cuckold thee as seldom as possi­bly I can—

I'le hear no more; but thus will make a passage to thy Soul, for I swear thy Ruine, Death, Damnation—

Say you so, then 'tis time to look about—and since you provide me, little one, know this, that if I kill thee, I swear to marry the Widow the next day—

Thus I prevent thy boasting— dull, dull, Brother, not know your own flesh and blood.

makes up to her with his Sword, Mrs. H. discovers her self.

My Sister▪ I'm all amazement▪

Now Sir, what think you of my design?

Design quotha! 'twas well you discovered your self, or I had spoil'd all;—but I'm a Dog if I understand what you mean?—you are Married—

I am to the Widow, I knew not how to cheat the Parson; but I question not, but to deceive the Widow e're I sleep—

As how, as how?—I long to hear—

See, my Husband comes with some intelligence—.

Is that my Brother Hadland?—

Sir, My Lady is retir'd to her Chamber—

Leave off your distance now, sweet heart; for I have told my Brother all.

Kind-Brother I obliging Sister!—

But Brother, do you like my Widow in earnest?

Like her! Heavn's! I love her infinitely! were she not Mistress of a farthing, agad, I believe I should have Married her, there's such an aiery sweetness in her face—

Say you so, then along with me, I have one design more, and if that take, we are once more happy—

Lead on whil'st I follow, and admire thy wit.

ACT V. SCENE I.

T Thus far I am prosperous, Widow, I have not done with you yet; I have wheadled all her Keys out of her Custody, and in her Closet I found the Writing of my Estate, thou dear, dear Parchment, how I am over-joy'd to hug thee in my Arms once more—the Widow comes—

My life, my Soul, my only joys on Earth, haste, haste to Bed, that I may be compleatly bless'd with an Heav'n of Pleasures and delight.

Oh let me embrace the mighty Treasure I have this day gain'd!—

Delay not the Consummation of our bliss, to bed, to bed, my dear, and there we'l surfeit with delights un­speakable.

I go, but prithee stay not long behind—

I'le but to my appartment, and undress, then fly to rifle all thy Charms—now, Widow, thou art safe—

Kind Rogue, I am—I cannot avoid laughing to think how surpriz'd the Widow will be, well Girl, I'le en­deavour to behave my self so, that she shall have no reason to complain, nor you to repent the trick you have put upon her.

Do that, and I am well pleas'd, I believe I am the first Bridegroom that ever procur'd for his Bride the first Night.

[Page 48]

The obliging'st in the world, and the kindest Si­ster too.

Away then—be brisk, and disgrace me not.

Dear, honest, kind, obliging, witty Rogue, adieu—now for the Widow.

SCENE the Second. The Hall.

Well done, my friends, put it briskly about— now the Bride and Bridegroom are preparing for bed, let us Drink their healths— Sam. give me a Glass—Son Sanders, top and bottom to you—

I'le do you reason, Sir—Mr. Santloe, the Bride and Bridegrooms healths.

Mr. Gazer—

I'le Pledg you, Sir, tho by Aries the Sign is in the Head with me already, Mr. Noddy have at you—

Ay, ay, let it come, hang Sorrow, it must be drown'd, I find—

Nay, nay, Sir, I'le not bate you an ace of top and bottom, off with it, off with it for shame, I say again, top and bottom is my word—

Lay aside Indignation, Sir, I'le do't, tho I dye for't, but yfeck I have so topt and bottom'd it already, I can hardly breath—

Hye, that's he, that's he—What, Son Peter, no frollick, no frollick, Sirrah Boy, be merry, or I'le dis-inherit thee—Ah, when I was of your Age, and at the Temple, I was the Cock of all the Jovial Blades in Town—I was always the Captain of a Temple-Rebellion, broke Benchers heads with the Temple pots most dexterously, lye with my Laun­dress, got her with Bastard, and made her lay it at a Benchen's door, by Gogmagog—

[Page 49]

So, so, all will out—now shall I have pious instru­ctions to follow the Example of a sober Father—

I have beat Watches, have had my head broke, and been in the Compter so often, that it cost your Grandfather above a Hundred pounds one year to cure my broken head, and to ransom me from Limbo—and yet you see, Sirrah, I am a sober discreet man now—

Wondrous discreet thus to display your weakness—

Son Sanders, what ne'r a Song in Budget—by Gog­magog, this whoring Age has spoil'd all good harmless mirth and Company—All the young fellows now a days single out their Does, and retire as if it were nothing but rutting time with 'em—but in my Days we should not have sat half so long without a Catch or two, and top and bottom going briskly about yfaith—

Prithee let's have the Song, you made the last drinking bout, and one glass more will lay your Father to rest—

I have a Song, Sir, which if you please well sing— but all must joyn in the Chorus.—

Yes marry shall they, Sir—and so will I—but first let every one take top and bottom in his hand—

Well done yfaith my Lads—and now off with top and bottom—

ho, ho, ho Boys, Peter I'le give thee an Hundred pounds a year more for this Boy—

Say, and hold Sir, that you have often done in your Glasses; but has forbid the banes when sober—

Oh the sweet days of Youth—I have roar'd it in my time yfaith—and so topt and bottom'd it, that by Gog­magog we have all bin top heavy before we have parted— Now Son Peter, ne'r a Jig or Horn-pipe about you? how has my Money bin spent at Dancing-School, I pray?—

He would make me as ridiculous as himself—

Those Dances are quite out of fashion, Sir, and Genteiler are now in Mode, Sarabands, Minuets Entries, and the like—

Pox on your hard nam'd Dances and Wine too, they never prove good, nor wholsom—but Sirrah, to convince you, nothing can be finer than a Lancashire Horn-pipe— Fidlers strike up—

I Vow, Sir, 'tis in supportably admirable—

Before I left the Temple, I was the only Reveller as old as I was; I cou'd have footed the Measures, and Danc't Horn-pipes with e're a young fellow of 'em all. Sam, Give me top and bottom—Mr. Noddy, my Service to you—

Yfeck I'le pledg you—

Ah, when I was young, I had a thousand such frollicks as these, off with your Liquor man, off with it, I say.

Top and bottom, as you say, Sir Oliver, yfecks—

So ho, my Boys, who says I am old, see there my conquest over Youth—this Whoring weakens 'em so, they are not able to take of a chirping Cup or two now adays—

Now Sam, thy frollick?

What grinding of Knives Sir? have at it then— Knives to Grind, Knives to Grind—

How now Sam, what art thou frollicking too—

A Well-willer to mirth Sir, and now you shall see me grind Knives as dexterously with a Chair, as the Fellows in the Street with a Grind-stone—

Well done my Lad—Here's something to encou­rage thee—

What's here, a Newgate Groat, by this Light he's short lived, he is so confounded liberal—ah Sir, this is nothing; I can tumble with any Bartholomew Fellow, Run up a Wall like a Cat; but I can act a Breast of Mutton so natu­rally, that our Cook-Maid the other night had like to have spitted me for one, I did it so to the life—

Hold, hold, hold, Murder, Murder—

Out you old Leacher, invade my Honour?

Laugh.

Wats the matter, Sir Gregory?

I only desir'd a kindness or so, being set agog with [Page 52] the Widows Marriage, and the Baggage had not only the in­civility to deny me; but has most unmercifully chastis'd me too.

By Gogmagog well enough served, for leaving top and bottom—and old Letchery will be catteryauling, tho they are sure to come by the worst.

For Heav'ns sake, Gentlemen, come to the Bride-Chamber, some accident or other has hapned; for the Bride cryes out, and seems by her Speech to be in some strange con­fusion.

It's nothing but her being coy, and yfaith the young Bridegroom seems a man of Mettle, and will put her to't, I'le warrant.

What should this mean?

Let us go see, I fear my young Blade's too brisk for her—gently, gently good Youngster, be not so boyste­rous—

Again, what a stubborn Baggage 'tis—on my lise he is ravishing her—let us in and see Gentlemen—

SCENE the Last.
The Widow discovered sitting on a Bed in a Night-Gown, Noble in Bed, holding her by the Gown.

Heav'n protect me! Villain unhand me—

I say, Widow come to Bed, or I shall grow very an­gry; for I'm impatient, and will not be delay'd any longer.

Guard me, ye Powers above! Protect my honour, or I'm lost for ever should my Husband come—

Whose fault will that be; therefore be speedy, let me antedate my young Squire, and I'le be gone— Nay, no struggling, but yield quietly—I need not a resi­stance, for I am all on flame already—not yet? agad persist in stubbornness, and I'le publish it in all places that I have layn [Page 53] with thee, no matter whether it be truth or no—and then Lady bright, that trifling title Honour, must be surrender'd; but be kind, and I shall be all silence and obedience—

I'le rather dye, than yield—

Say you so? Then I find I must try strength.

Ha! my Husband!—

What coming for me Widow? This was kindly done—let us to Bed, for now I am ready to perform the Rites of Love.

What shall I do? undone, for ever wretched—

What means this strange Confusion!

Alass, Sir, I'm not well—I was just going to call up my Maid, for some Cordial—Tis but too true, for my Spirits fail me.

Such vain excuses belong to Virgin Modesty, but Widows should know better—then, lay aside this veil, and meet my love with equal flames, that both may be transported into Extasies—

For ever I am ruin'd—

Sure y'are the first Widow ever fear'd th' imbraces of a second Husband—Come, come tremble not—but to Bed.

Ha! Noble here—Hell and the Devil!

Base perfidious Woman, now I see the cause of your disorders, was your Lust so hot you could not stay till the first Night was past?

Good Sir, hear me—

May'st thou be for ever dumb, or I deaf, rather than lend an Ear to thy bewitching tongue—Now Sir, how durst you attempt the dishonouring of my Bed? Do you laugh? I shall spoil your mirth—

[Page 54]

Who can forbear at such an Idle question—rather Sir, how durst you Marry, and fondly think to preserve such a tempting Creature entirely for your self,—Sir, where I love, I dare do any thing to enjoy; and a Pox on your offi­cious hast and jealousie, had you but stayed two minutes lon­ger, your business had been done, and you ne'r the wiser—

Confusion! This to my face?

Yes, faith Sir, 'twas most uncivilly done, and very unlike a Husband to intrude; but I pardon you for once, for I hope in time you will understand better—

Base Villain! Did I for this cast a friends Arms about thee? gave thee the welcom of a man of Honour? and is this your return of gratitude? Hence, begon, and take that Volume of corrupted Beauty; for henceforth shesh I be to me like the Book of Fate, for ever claspt.

Wretched Woman, was this the promis'd blessing of an indulgent Husband! Speak Sir, and clear my Honour, how you got here; for Heav'n be my Witness, I was as great a stran­ger to his being here, as you.

In vain are idle words, out of my doors, for ever I discard you from my house—

I find too late your drift, my Wealth (Curse on it) was the Original of your design, take it to save my Honour; and what is't I would not give to be rid of so base a fellow.

I thank you for my own, sweet Lady—but I scorn to be out done in courtesie—therefore in return, make you this present—provided you'l confirm you Estate on me—

I will—what laugh you at my misery—

Faith Widow, you are caught; for know, I am already Married to another—

How Married to another! I am all astonishment: Vil­lain, how durst you attempt so desperate an act; an act by which your life is forfeited? and question not, but I'le have full revenge for this affront y'ave offer'd me.

Rail on, 'tis Musick in my Ears, but faith you are not like to stir till we are friends—

What's your design? who are you—

Come, come, no more questions, my design was [Page 55] only to provide a Husband for thee—how say you to my Friend here, methinks he would make an able Husband for a Widow.

So ho, Mr. Bridegroom open the Door, and let Sack-posset enter—

How say you, Widow, is it a match—or they all enter, and I'le forswear all I have said, and make you infa­mous to the world—

And faith so will I, Widow—if you consent not.

Hold, hold Gentlemen—What shall I do? my Ho­nour this way will be lost—Leave me to my own choice, you know not what then I may do—

All one for that, Widow, so it must be—

Or Egad they come—see I am ready to unlock, is it a Bargain?

Take half my Estate, my House, Goods, any thing, rather than force me to so rash an Act—

How rash! to Marry an able fellow! this is an affront, I cannot put up; therefore thus I revenge my self—

Hold, hold Sir, let me consider but one Minute—

I'le give thee a looking and a thinking time, that is but fair; for I am certain the more you view me and consider, the more you'l like me—

On my Conscience they are reconcil'd, done their business, and fairly turn'd to sleep.—

Now, Madam, what is it you resolve?

Not to consent—

Egad they come then—

Hold, what are you?—

No questions, for Conscience sake—

I yield, I yield—

Swear then—

By all that's good, I will be yours—

Seal it—

Gentlemen, pray enter—

What's here, two Bridegrooms? I'le warrant her crying out, was, for want of the Second—

Gentlemen, bear witness, I here discharge the Widow, from her Marriage with me.—

How, parting before ye have bedded? what's the meaning of this?

Some private Reasons, Sir Oliver, which more at leisure you shall know—

Before these Gentlemen, I take him for my Husband.

The Devil give you Joy then—

See here the transformation—and Widow in a young huffing Bully, see your Friend and Servant Eliz. Hadland—

And Thomas Hadland, her Ser­ving-man and Husband.

Am I out-witted by my Enemy then!

What a notable frollicking Woman is this! Is she the Bridegroom, and my worshipful Serving-man, are you there?

A poor wrong'd Gentleman, Sir, willing to serve for his own—

Pox on her, was it she disgrac'd me at the Treat, I'le steal off before they take notice of me—

By Capricorn, and so will I—

Look you, Madam, d'ye see, I have spent at least Forty Pounds in Cloaths, Coaches, Journeys and so forth, in Courting of you, and since you have chous'd me of your self, I expect satisfaction—which I will have if there be Law—

Take your course, Sir—

So I will, by Jehosaphat—

Now Madam, no more your Enemy, but Sister; for I must call this Gentleman Brother.

Then my fortune's better than I could have expected, [Page 57] since I am assured he is a Gentleman in all respects—and thus all animosities shall cease.—

Why, now the Bells they go trim, they go trim— Wife, with this Ladies leave, we'l make no more hours on't; for this is as fine a contracting time, we could have wisht for, and the Parson to morrow shall finish this Nights work, come to the Book, to the Book young men—

'Slid Sam, what's to be done now.

Your Friend and Servant knows no more than the post, Sir—

How say you, Madam, is it a match between your Neice and my Son? do't, and I am resolv'd Mr. Sanders shall be my Son in Law—

I freely consent, Sir—

Mrs. Eugenia, your hand—

But not my heart, for that is Mr. Sanders's—

But with your leave, Sir Oliver, I'le joyn 'em—

With all my heart, Madam.

Mr. Sanders, take this Lady.

Oh, Madam, blest be your goodness for this inesti­mable treasure.

Cuds boddykins, what means she?

Here Mr. Santloe, in a Sister find a wise—

Sure the Widow has dealt with the Devil, or else hath heard of our mutual love, and thus sooths our passions—

By Gogmagog, the Widow's mad—my Son Marry his own Sister! what Riddle is this?

One of Seventeen years standing, Sir—You re­member my Sister Morly Nurs'd your Daughter, who at that time had a Daughter too—

What of all this—

My Sisters fortunes decaying, she gave you her Eu­genia, and kept your Clarina with her self—afterwards fortune smiling on her Husband's industry, she on her Death-bed did reveal this secret, and wisht me when occasion served to make it known—

Hyeday the Town's our own agen—

[Page 58]

Oh, Madam, this is beyond all president, not to be equal'd—and now Sir, I may with confidence own I was this day Married to my supposed Sister.

By Gogmagog, you were a desperate Boy; how could you tell but that it was your Sister in earnest?

Nature was not so dull to let me languish for a Sister; for notwithstanding what my Mother said, yet love retain'd its native heat, and bad me still love on—Oh my blest Soul—

Daughter come into thy Father's arms, see, excess of Joy will make affection melt.

What tears have I bestow'd on a lost Daughter, yet left her behind me.

This is beyond all thought surprizing—and now, Girl, since your wit has been the kind directer of my Fortunes, with my Widows leave here, freely command whatever's in my power—

I shall comply with you in everything.

I thank you for your obliging offer, and I shall de­sire nothing more, but the confirmation of that Portion which your rigorous Husband had deceiv'd my Father of, before he dyed—

Your generosity is so great I can deny you nothing— consult with your Lawyer, and I shall willingly subscribe to any thing you shall desire—

We are oblig'd to you—

Cudsboddy kins, this was a notable waggish trick, and by Gogmagog, much like a second Wedding, and I give you joy with all my heart.

Madam, fear nothing; tho I have appear'd a wild Debauchee; yet you shall find an Indulgent Husband—and now, Gentlemen, let us in and congratulate each others good success and fortunes.