CErtainly they'l Play all Night, this is a cursed Life.

How long have you liv'd with your Lady?

A Month, too long by thirty Days, if this be her way of living; I shall be dead before the Year's out; she Games all Night, and Sleeps all Day.

As long as you sleep, what's Matter?

But I do not, for while she sleeps, I'm Employ'd in Howdee's, from one end of the Town to the other.

But you rest while she's Gaming; What would you do, if you led my Life? This is my Lady's constant Practice

Your Lady keeps a Basset Table, much good may do you with your Service—Hark, they are broke up.

ha, hy, my Lady Gamewel's Chair ready there—Mr. Sonica's Servant

Where the Devil is my Flambeaux?

So-hey —Robin, get the Chair ready, my Lady's coming; stay, stay, let me light my Flambeaux.

Hey, hoa, what han't they done Play yet?

They are now coming down, but your Lady is gone half an hour ago.

The Devil she is, why did not you call me?

I did not see you.

Was you Blind?—She has lost her Mo­ney, that's certain—She never flinches upo naW in­ning-Hand—her Plate and Jewels Walks to Mor­row to replenish her Pocket—a Pox of Gaming, I say.

Mr. Looseall's Man—

Here—So-ho, who has stole my Flam­beaux?

My Lady Umbray's Coach there.—

Hey! Will, pull up there

My Lady Raffle is horridly out of humour at her ill Fortune, she lost 300 l.

She has generally ill luck, yet her Inclination for Play is as strong as ever.—Did your Ladyship win, or lose, Madam?

I won about 50 l.—prethee what shall we do, Alpiew? 'Tis a fine Morning, 'tis pity to go to Bed.

What does your Ladiship think of a Walk in the Park?—The Park is pleasant in a Morning, the Air is so very sweet.

I don't think so; the sweetness of the Park is at Eleven, when the Beau Monde makes their Tower there, 'tis an unpolish'd Curiosity to walk when only Birds can see one.

Bless me, Madam! Your Uncle—now for a Ser­mon of two Hours.

So Niece! I find you're resolv'd to keep on your course of Life; I must be wak'd at Four with Coach, Coach, Chair, Chair; give over for shame, and Marry, Marry, Niece.

Now would I forfeit the Heart of my next Ad­mirer, to know the cause of this Reproach. Pray, Uncle, explain'd your self; for I protest I can't guess what Crime I have unhappily committed to merit this advice.

How can you look me in the Face, and ask me that Question? Can you that keep a Basset-Table, a publick Gaming-House, be insensible of the shame on't? I have often told you how much the vast concurse of Peo­ple, which Day and Night make my House their Ren­devouze, incommode my Health; your Apartment is a Pa­rade for Men of all Ranks, from the Duke to the Fidler, and your Vanity thinks they all pay Devoir to your Beau­ty—but you mistake, every one has his several end in Meet­ing here, from the Lord to the Sharper, and each their seperate Interest to Admire—some Fools there may be, for there's seldom a crowd without.

Malice—some Fools? I can't bear it.

Nay, 'tis very affronting, truly Madam.

Ay, is it not Alpiew?—Yet, now I think on't, 'tis the defect of Age to rail at the Pleasure's of Youth, there­fore I shall not disorder my Face with a frown about it. Ha, ha, I hope, Uncle, you'l take peculiar care of my Cousin Valeria, in disposing of her according to the Breed­ing you have given her.

The Breeding I have given her! I would not have her have your Breeding, Mistress, for all the Wealth of England's Bank; no, I bread my Girl in the Country, a stranger to the Vices of this Town, and am resolv'd to Marry her to a Man of Honour, Probity and Courage.

What the Sea Captain, Uncle? Faugh, I hate the smell of Pitch and Tarr; one that can Entertain one with nothing but Fire and Smoak, Larboard and Starboard, and t'other Bowl of Punch, ha, ha, ha.

And for every fault that she commits he'll condemn her to the Bilboes, ha, ha.

I fancy my Cousin's Philosophy, and the Cap­tain's Couragious Bluster, will make Angelick Harmony.

Yes, Madam, sweeter Harmony than your Sept & Le [...] Fops, Rakes and Gamesters; give me the Man that serves my Country, that preserves both my Estate and Life—Oh, the glorious Name of Soldier; if I were Young, I'd go my self in Person, but as it is—

You'll send your Daughter—

Yes, Minx, and a good Dowry with her, as a reward for Virtue like the Captains.

But suppose, Sir, Mrs. Valeria should not like him?

I'll suppose no such thing, Mistress, she shall like him.

Why, there tis now, indeed, Uncle, your're too positive.

And you to Impertinent: Therefore I resolve to quit your House; you shan't keep your Revels under the Roof where I am.

I'd have you to know, Sir, my Lady keeps no Re­vels beneath her Quality.

Hold your Tongue, Mrs. Pert, or I shall dis­play your Quality in its proper Colours.

I don't care, say your worst of me, and spare not; but for my Lady—my Lady's a Widdow, and Widdows are accountable to none for their Actions—Well, I shall have a Husband one of those days, and be a Widow too, I hope.

Not unlikely, for the Man will hang himself the next day, I warrant him.

And if any, Uncle, pretends to controul my Actions—

He'd loose his labour, I'm certain—

I'd treat him—

Don't provoke me, Houswife, don't.

Be gone, and wait in the next Room.

The Insolence of a Servant, is a great Honour to the Lady, no doubt; but I shall find a way to humble you both.

Lookee, Unkle, do what you can, I'm resolv'd to follow my own Inclinations.

Which infallibly carries you to Noise, Non­sence, Foppery and Ruin; but no matter, you shall out of my Doors, I'll promise you, my House shall no longer bear the Scandalous Name of a Basset Table: Husbands shall no more have cause to date their Ruin from my Door, nor cry there, there my Wife Gam'd my Estate away—Nor Children Curse my Posterity, for their Parents knowing my House.

No more threatning, good Unkle, act as you please, but don't scold, or I shall be oblig'd to call Alpiew again.

Very well, very well, see what will come on't; the World will censure those that Game, and, in my Consci­ence, I believe not without Cause.

Advice! Ha, ha, ridiculous Advice.

No sooner rid of one mischief, but another follows—I foresee this is to be a day of Mortification, Alpiew.

Madam.

My Uncle's gone, you may come in, ha, ha, ha.

Fye, Cousin, does it become you to Laugh at those that give you Council for your good?

For my good! Oh, mon cour? Now cannot I Divine what 'tis, that I do more than the rest of the World, to deserve this blame.

Nor I, for the Soul of me.

Shou'd all the rest of the World follow your Ladyship's Example, the order of Nature would be inver­ted, and every good, design'd by Heaven, become a Curse, Health and Plenty no longer would be known among us.—You cross the purpose of the Day and Night, you Wake when you should Sleep, and make all who have any dependence on you, Wake while you Repose.

Bless me, may not any Person Sleep when they please?

No, there are certain Hours, that good Man­ [...] Modesty and Health require your Care; for Exam­ [...] disorderly Hours are neither Healthful nor Modest— [...] not Civil to make Company wait Dinner for your [...].

Why, does any body Dine before four a Clock in London? For my part I think it an Ill-bred Custom, to make my Appetite Pendulum to the Twelfth hour.

Besides, 'tis out of Fashion to Dine by Day light, and so I told Sir Richard yesterday, Madam.

No doubt, but you did, Mrs. Alpiew; and then you entertain such a Train of People, Cousin, that my La­dy Reveller is as noted as a publick Ordinary, where every Fool with Money finds a Welcome.

Would you have me shut my doors against my Friends—Now she is jealous of Sir James Courtly.

Besides, is it possible to pass the Evenings without Diversions.

No certainly—

I think the Play-house, the much more innocent and commendable Diversion.

To be seen there every Night, in my Opinion, is more destructive to the Reputation.

Well, I had rather be noted every Night in the front Box, then, by my absence, once be suspected of Ga­ming; one ruins my Estate and Character, the other di­verts my Temper, and improves my Mind. Then you have such a number of Lovers.

Oh Cupid, is it a Crime to have a number of Lovers? If it be, 'tis the pleasantest Crime in the World. A Crime that falls not every day, to every Womans Lot.

I dare be positive every Woman does not wish it.

Because wishes have no Effect, Cousin, ha, ha.

Methinks my Lord Worthy's Assiduity might have banish'd the admiring Croud by this time.

Banish'd 'em? Oh, Mon cour! what pleasure is there in one Lover; 'tis like being seen always in one Suit of Cloaths; a Woman, with one Admirer, will ne'er be a Reigning Toast.

I am sure those that Encourage more, will ne­ver have the Character of a Reigning Virtue.

I slight the malicious Censure of the Town, yet defy it to asperse my Verture; Nature has given me a Face, a Shape, a Mein, an Air for Dress, and Wit and Hu­mour to subdue. And shall I lose my Conquest for a Name.

Nay, and among the unfashionable sort of People too, Madam; for Persons of Breeding and Quality will allow, that Gallantry and Virtue are not inseperable.

But Coquetry and Reputation are, and there is no differerence in the Eye of the World, between ha­ving really committed the Fault, and lying under the Scan­dal; for, my own part, I would take as much Care to pre­serve my Fame, as you would your Virtue.

A little pains will serve you for that, Cousin; for I never once heard you nam'd—A Mortification would break my Heart, ha, ha.

'Tis better never to be nam'd, than to be ill spoke of; but your Reflections shall not Disorder my Tem­per. I could wish, indeed, to convince you of your Error, because you share my Blood; but since I see the Vanity of the attempt, I shall desist.

I humbly thank your Ladiship.

Oh! Madam, here's my Lord Worthy, Sir James Courtly, and Ensign Lovely, coming down; will your Lady­ship see them?

Now have I a strong Inclination to Engage Sir James, to discompose her Gravity; for if I have any Skill in Glances, she loves him—but then my Lord Worthy is so peevish since our late Quarrel, that I'm afraid to En­gage the Knight in a Ducl; besides, my Absence, I know, will teize him more, therefore, upon Consideration, I'le retire. Cousin Lucy; Good Morrow. I'le leave you to bet­ter Company, there's a Person at hand may prevent your Six-a-Clock Prayers.

Ha! Sir James Courtly—I must own I think him agreeable—but am sorry she believes I do. I'le not be seen; for if what I scarce know my self be grown so visible to her, perhaps, he too may Discover it, and then I am lost.

Ha! was not that Lady Lucy?

It was—ah, Sir James, I find your Heart is out of Order about that Lady, and my Lord Worthy lan­guishes for Lady Reveller.

And thou art sick for Valeria, Sir Richard's Daughter. A poor distresled Company of us.

'Tis true, that little she-Philosopher has made me do Pennance more heartily than ever my sins did; I deserve her by meer Dint of Patience. I have stood whole hours to hear her Assert that Fire cannot Burn, nor Water Drown, nor Pain Afflict, and forty ridiculous Systems—and all her Experiments on Frogs, Fish—and Flies, ha, ha, ha, without the lcast Contradiction.

Contradiction, no, no, I allow'd all she said with undoubtedly, Madam,—I am of your mind, Ma­dam, it must be so—natural Causes, &c.

Ha, ha, ha, I think it is a supernatural cause which Enables thee to go thro' this Fatigue, if it were not to raise thy Fortune, I should think thee Mad to pursue her; but go on and prosper, nothing in my Power shall be wanting to assist you—My Lord Worthy—your Lordship is as Melancholy as a losing Gamester.

Faith, Gentlemen, I'm out of Humour, but I don't know at what.

Why then I can tell you, for the very same reason that made your Lordship stay here to be Spectator of the very Diversion you hate—Gaming—the same Cause makes you uneasy in all Company, my Lady Reveller.

Thou hast hit it, James, I confess I love her Per­son, but hate her Humours, and her way of Living; I have some reasons to believe I'm not indifferent to her, yet I despair of fixing her, her Vanity has got so much the Mistress of her Resolution; and yet her Passion for Gain furmounts her Pride, and lays her Reputation open to the World. Every Fool that has ready Money, shall dare to boast himself her very humble Servant; 'ds Death, when I could cut the Rascal's Throat.

your Lordship is even with her one Way, for you are as testy as she's vain, and as fond of an opportu­nity to Quarrel with her, as she of a Gaming Acquaintance; my Opinion is, my Lord, she'll ne're be won your Way.

Thou'rt of a happy temper, Sir James, I wish I could be so too; but since I can't add to your Diversion, I'll take my leave, good Morrow, Gentlemen.

This it is to have more Love than Reason about one; you and I Lovely will go on with Discretion, and yet I fear it's in Lady Lucy's Power to banish it.

I find Mrs. Sago, the Drugsters Wife's Interest, begins to shake, Sir James.

And I fear her Love for Play begins to shake her Husband's Baggs too—faith, I am weary of that In­treague, lest I should be suspected to have a hand in his Ruin.

She did not lose much to Night, I believe; pree­thy, Sir James, what kind of a temper'd Woman is she? Has she Wit?

That she has—A large Portion, and as much Cunning, or she could never have manag'd the old Fellow so nicely; she has a vast Passion for my Lady Re­veller, and endeavours to mimick her in every thing—Not a sute of Cloaths, or a Top-knot, that is not exactly the same with hers—then her Plots and Contrivances to supply these Expences, puts her continually upon the Rack; yet to give her her due, she has a fertile Brain that Way; but come, shall we go home and sleep two or three Hours, at Dinner I'll introduce you to Capt. Hearty, the Sea Officer, your Rival that is to be, he's just come to Town.

A powerful Rival, I fear, for Sir Richard resolves to Marry him to his Daughter; all my hopes lyes in her Arguments, and you know Philosophers are very positive—and if this Captain does but happen to Contradict one Whim­sical Notion, the Poles will as soon join, as they Couple, and rather then yield, she would go to the Indies in search of Dampier's Ants.

Nay, she is no Woman if she Obeys.

GOod Morrow.

Good Morrow.

Good Morrow, good Morrow, is that all your bu­siness here; What means that Affected Look, as if you long'd to be examin'd what's the Matter.

The Capricio's of Love, Madamoselle; the Capricio's of Love.

Why—are you in Love?

I—in Love! No, the Divel take me if ever I shall be infected with that Madness, 'tis enough for one in a Family to Fall under the whimsical Circumstances of that Distemper. My Lord has a sufficient Portion for both; here—here—here's a Letter for your Lady, I believe the Contents are not so full of Stars and Darts, and Flames, as they us'd to be.

My Lady will not concern her self with your Lord, nor his Letters neither, I can assure you that.

So much the better, I'le tell him what you say—Have you no more?

Tell him it is not my fault, I have done as much for his Service, as lay in my Power, till I put her in so great a Passion, 'tis impossible to Appease her.

Very good—my Lord is upon the Square, I promise ye, as much inraged as her Ladiship to the full. Well, Mrs. Alpiew, to the longest Day of his Life he fwears, never to forget Yesterday's Adventure, that's given him perfect, perfect Liberty.

I believe so—What was it, pray?

I'll tell you; 'twas a matter of Consequence, I assure you, I've known Lovers part for a less Triffle by half.

No Disgressions, but to the point, what was it?

This—my Lord, was at the Fair with your Lady.

What of that?

In a Raffling-shop she saw a young Gentleman, which she said was very handsom—At the same time, my Lord, prais'd a young Lady; she redoubles her Commen­dations of the Beau—He enlarges on the Beauty of the Bell; their Discourse grew warm on the subject; they Pause; she begins again with the Perfections of the Gentle­man; he ends with the same of the Lady; Thus they per­su'd their Arguments, still finding such mighty Charms in their new Favourites, till they found one another so Ugly—so Ugly—that they parted with full Resolutions never to meet again.

Ha, ha, ha, pleasant; well, if you have no more to tell me, adieu.

Stay a Moment, I see my Lord coming, I thought he'd follow me. Oh, Lovers Resolutions—

So, have you seen my Lady Reveller?

My Lord—

Ha! Mrs. Alpiew.

There's your Lordship's Letter.

An Answer! She has done me very much Honour.

My Lord, I am commanded—

Hold a little, dear Mrs. Alpiew.

My Lord, she would not—

Bequiet, I say—

I am very sorry—

But a moment—Ha, why, this is my own Letter.

Yes, my Lord.

Yes, my Lord—what, she'd not receive it then?

No, my Lord.

How durst you stay so long.

I beg your Lordship not to harbour an ill Opinion of me, I opposed her anger with my utmost Skill, prais'd all your Actions, all your Parts, but all in Vain.

Enough, Enough, Madam, she has taken the best method in the World—Well, then we are ne'er to meet again?

I know not that, my Lord—

I am over-joy'd at it, by my Life I am, she has only prevented me; I came a purpose to break with her—

Yes, so 'twas a sign by the pleasure you discover'd, in thinking she had writ to you.

I suppose, she has entertain'd you with the Cause of this?

No, my Lord, never mention'd a Syllable, only said, she had for ever done with you; and charg'd me, as I valued her favour, to receive no Message nor Letter, from you.

May I become the very'st Wretch alive, and all the Ills immaginable fall upon my Head, if I speak to her more; nay, ever think of her but with Scorn—Where is she now?

In her Dressing-room.

There let her be, I am weary of her fantastick Humours, affected Airs, and unaccountable Passions.

For half an Hour.

Do you know what she's a doing?

I believe, my Lord, trying on a Mantua; I left her with Mrs. Pleatwell, and that us'd to hold her a great while, for the Woman is saucily Familiar with all the Qua­lity, and tells her all the Scandal.

And conveys Letters upon occasion; 'tis tack'd to their Profession—But, my Lady Reveller may do what she pleases, I am no more her Slave, upon my Word; I have broke my Chain—She has not been out then since she Rose?

No, my Lord.

Nay, if she has, or has not, 'tis the same thing to me; she may go the end of the World, if she will; I shan't take any pains to follow her—Whose Footman was that I met?

I know not, my Lord, we have so many come with How-dee's, I ne'er mind them.

You are uneasy, Child, come, I'll not detain you, I have no curiosity, I protest I'm satisfied if she's so, I assure ye, let her despise me, let her hate me, 'tis all one, adieu.

My Lord, your Servant.

Mrs Alpiew, let me beg one favour of you,

not to say I was here.

I'll do just as you please, my Lord.

Do that then, and you'll oblige me,

I will.

Don't forget.

Your Lordship may depend upon me.

Hold, now I think on't—Pray [...]ll her you did see me, do ye hear?

With all my Heart.

Tell her how indifferent she is to me in every re­spect.

I shan't fail.

Tell her every thing, just as I exprest it to you.

I will.

Adieu

Your Servant.

Now, I think on't, Mrs Alpiew, I have a great mind she shou'd know my Sentiments from my own Mouth.

Nay, my Lord, I can't promise you that.

Why?

Because she has expresly forbid your admittance.

I'd speak but one Word with her.

Impossible.

Pugh, prethee do, let me see her,

So now, all this mighty rage ends in a begging Submission.

Only tell her I'm here.

Why should you desire me to meet her Anger, my Lord?

Come, you shall oblige me once.

Oh, dear, my Lord, you have such a command over your Servant, I can refuse nothing.

Have you been at the Goldsmiths about the Bills, for I am fix'd on Travelling.

Your Lordship's so disturb'd, you have forgot you Countermanded me, and send me hither.

True.

Just as I told your Lordship, she fell in a most vio­lent Passion, at the bare mention of your Name; tell him, [Page 17] said she, in a heroick Strain, I'll never see him more, and command him to quit that Room, 'cause I'm coming to't.

Tyrant, curse on my Follies, she knows her Power; well, I hope, I may walk in the Gallery; I would speak with her Uncle.

To be sure, my Lord.

Learn, Mistress, learn, you may come to make me Mad in time, ha, ha, ha.

Go Fool, follow your Lord.

Well, I'll swear, Alpiew, you have given me the Vapours for all Day.

Ah! Madam, if you had seen him, you must have had Compassion; I would not have such a Heart of Ada­mant for the World; poor Lord, sure you have the stran­gest Power over him.

Silly—one often Fanices one has Power, when one has none at all; I'll tell the Alpiew, he vex'd me strangely before this grand Quarrel; I was at Picquet with my Lady Love-Witt four Nights ago, and bid him read me a new Copy of Verses, because, you know, he never Plays, and I did not well know what to do with him; he had scarce begun, when I being eager at a Pique, he rose up, and said, he believ'd I lov'd the Musick of my own Voice, crying Nine and Twenty, Threescore, better than the sweetest Poetry in the Universe, and abruptly left us.

A great Crime, indeed, not to read when People are at a Game they are oblig'd to talk to all the while.

Crime, yes, indeed was it, for my Lady loves Poetry better than Play, and perhaps before the Poem had been done had lost her Money to me. But, I wonder, Alpiew, by what Art 'tis you engage me in this Discourse, why [Page 18] shou'd I talk of a Man that's utterly my Aversiou—Have you heard from Mrs. Sago this Morning?

Certainly, Madam, she never sails; she has sent your Ladiship the finest Cargo made up of Chocolate, Tea, Montifiasco Wine, and 50 Rarities beside, with something to remember me, good Creature, that she never forgets. Well, indeed, Madam, she is the best natur'd Woman in the World; it grieves me to think what Sums she loses at Play.

Oh fye, she must, a Citizen's Wife is not to be endur'd amongst Quality; had she not Money, 'twere im­possible to receive her—

Nay, indeed, I must say that of you Women of Quality, if there is but Money enough, you stand not up­on Birth or Reputation, in either Sex; if you did, so ma­ny Sharpers of Covent-Garden, and Mistresles of St. James's, would not be daily admitted.

Peace, Impertinence, you take strange Freedoms.

Why in such hast Cousin Valeria.

Oh! dear Cousin, don't stop me, I shall lose the finest Infect for Desection, a huge Flesh Fly, which Mr. Lovely sent me just now, and opening the Box to try the Experiment away it flew.

I am glad the poor Fly escap'd; will you never be weary of these Whimsies?

Whimsies! natural Peilosophy a Whimsy! Oh, the unlearn'd World.

Ridiculous Learning?

Ridiculous, indeed, for Women; Philosophy Sutes our Sex, as Jack Boots would do.

Custom would bring them as much in Fashion as Furbeloes, and Practice would make us as Valiant as e're a Hero of them all; the Resolution is in the Mind,—Nothing can enslave that.

My Stars! this Girl will be Mad, that's certain.

Mad [...] so Nero Banish'd Philosophers from Rome, and the first Discoverer of the Antipodes was Condemn'd for a Heretick.

In my Conscience, Alpiew, this pritty Creature's spoil'd. Well, Cousin, might I Advise, you should be­stow your Fortune in Founding a College for the Study of Philosophy, where none but Women should be admitted, and to Immortalize your Name, they should be call'd Va­le [...]ans, ha, ha, ha.

What you make a Jest of, Id'e Execute, were For­tune in my Power.

All Men would not be Excluded, the handsom Ensign, Madam.

In Love? Nay, there's no Philosophy against Love, Solon for that.

Pisha, no more of this Triffling Subject; Cousin, will you believe there's any thing without Gaul?

I am satisfy'd I have one, when I lose at Play, or see a Lady Addrest when I am by, and 'tis equal to me, whe­ther the rest of the Creation have or not.

Well, but I'le convince you then, I have dissected my Dove—and positively I think the Vulgar Notion true, for I could find none.

Oh, Barbarous; kill'd your pritty Dove!

Kill'd it! Why, what did you Imagine I bred it up for? Can Animals, Insects or Reptils, be put to a No­bler use, than to improve our Knowledge? Cousin, I'll give you this Jewel for your Italian Grey-hound.

What, to Cut to Pieces? Oh, horrid! he had need be a Soldier that ventures on you, for my part, I should Dream of nothing but Incision, Dissection and Amputa­tion, and always fancy the Knife at my Throat.

Madam, here's Sir Richard, and a—

A— What, is it an Accident, a Substance, a Mate­rial Being, or, a Being of Reason?

I don't know what you call a Material Being; it is a Man.

P'sha, a Man, that's nothing.

She'll prove by and by out of Discartes, that we are all Machines.

Oh, Madam, do you see who observes you? My Lord walking in the Gallery, and every Minute gives a Peep.

Does he so? I'll fit him for Eves-dropping—

Sir, I like the Relation you have given me of your Naval Expedition, your Discourse speaks you a Man­fit for the Sea.

You had it without a flourish, Sir Richard, my Word is this, I hate the French, Love a handsome Woman, and a Bowl of Punch.

Very Blunt.

This is my Daughter, Captain, a Girl of so­ber Education; she understands nothing of Gaming, Parks and Plays.

But wanting these Diversions, she has sup­ply'd the Vacancy with greater Follies.

A Tite little Frigate,

Faith, I think, she looks like a freshman Sea-sick—but here's a Gallant Vessel—with all her Streamers out, Top and Top Gal­lant—with your leave, Madam,

who is that Lady, Sir Richard?

'Tis a Niece of mine, Captain—tho' I am sorry she is so, she values nothing that does not spend their days at their Glass, and their Nights at Basset, such who ne'er did good to their Prince, nor Country, except their Taylor, Peruke-maker, and Persumer.

Fy, fy, Sir, believe him not, I have a Passion, an extream Passion, for a Hero—especially if he belongs to the Sea; methinks he has an Air so Fierce, so Piercing, his very Looks commands Respect from his own Sex, and all the Hearts of ours.

The Divel—Now, rather than let another Female have a Man to her self, she'll make the first Ad­vances.

Ay, Madam, we are preferr'd by you fine Ladies sometimes before the sprucer Sparks—there's a Conve­niency in't; a fair Wind, and we hale out, and leave you Liberty and Money, two things the most acceptable to a Wife in Nature.

Oh! ay, it is so pretty to have one's Husband gone Nine Months of the Twelve, and then to bring one home fine China, fine Lace, fine Muslin, and fine Indian Birds, and a thousand Curiosities.

No, no, Nine is a little too long, six would do better for one of your Constitution, Mrs.

Well, Madam, what think you of a cruising Voy­age towards the Cape of Matrimony, your Father designs me for the Pilot, if you agree to it, we'll hoist Sail imme­diately.

I agree to any thing dictated by good Sense, and comprehended within the Borders of Elocution, the con­verss I hold with your Sex, is only to improve and culti­vate the Notions of my Mind.

What the Devil is she going upon now?

I presume you'r a Mariner, Sir—

I have the Honour to bear the Queen's Commissi­on, Madam.

Pray, speak properly, positively, Laconically and Naturally.

So she has given him a Broadside already.

Laconically? Why, why, what is your Daugh­ter? Sir Richard, ha

May I be reduc'd to Wooden-Shoes, if I can tell you, the Devil; had I liv'd near a College, the Haunts of some Pedaunt might have brought this Curse upon me; but to have got my Estate in the City, and to have a Daughter run Mad after Philosophy, I'll ne'er suffer it in [Page 22] the rage I am in, I'll throw all the Books and Mathemati­cal Instruments out of the Window.

I dare say, Uncle, you have shook hands with Philosophy—for I'm sure you have banish'd Patience, ha, ha, ha.

And you Discretion—By all my hatred for the French, they'll drive me Mad; Captain I'll expect you in the next Room, and you Mrs Laconick, with your Phi­losophy at your Tail.

Shan't I come too, Uncle, ha, ha.

By Neptune, this is a kind of a whimsical Family; well, Madam, what was you going to say so positively and properly, and so forth?

I would have ask'd you, Sir, if ever you had the curiosity to inspect a Mermaid—Or if you are convinc'd there is a World in every Star—We, by our Telliscopes, find Seas, Groves and Plains, and all that; but what they are Peopled with, there's the Query.

Let your next Contrivance be how to get thither, and then you'll know a World in every Star—Ha, ha, she's fitter for Moorfields than Matrimony, pray, Madam, are you always infected, full and change, with this Distem­per?

How has my reason err'd, to hold converse with an irrational Being—Dear, dear Philosophy, what im­mense pleasures dwell in thee!

Madam, John, has got the Fish you sent him in search of.

Is it alive?

Yes, Madam.

Your Servant, your Servant, I would not lose the Experiment for any thing, but the tour of the new World.

Ha, ha, ha, is your Ladiship troubled with thefe Vagaries too; is the whole House possest?

Not I, Captain, the speculative faculty is not my Talent; I am for the practick, can lissen all Day, to hear you talk of Fire, substantial Fire, Rear and Front, and Line of Battle—admire a Seaman, hate the French,—love a Bowl of Punch? Oh, nothing so agreeable as your Conversation, nothing so Jaunty as a Sea Captain.

So, this engages him to Play,—If he has either Manners or Money.

Ay, give me the Woman that can hold me tack in my own Dialect—She's Mad too, I suppose, but I'll humour her a little.

Oh, Madam, not a fair Wind, nor a rich Prize, nor Conquest o're my Enemies, can please like you; accept my Heart without Capitulation—'Tis yours, a Prisoner at Discretion.

Hold, Sir, you must there contend with me; the Victory is not so easy as you imagine.

Oh fye, my Lord, you won't fight for one you hate and despise? I may trust you with the Captain, ha, ha, ha.

This must be her Lover—And he is Mad ano­ther way; this is the most unaccountable Family I ever met with.

Lookye, Sir, what you mean by contend­ing I know not; but I must tell you, I don't think any Woman I have seen since I came ashoar worth Fighting for. The Philosophical Gimcrack I don't value of a Cockle Shell—And am too well acquainted with the danger of Rocks and Quick-sands, to steer into t'others Harbour.

He has discover'd her already; I, only I, am blind.

But, Sir, if you have a mind to a Breathing, here tread upon my Toe, or speak but one Word in favour of the [...], or against the Courage of our Fleet, and my Sword will start of its self, to do its Master, and my Coun­try, Justice.

How ridiculous do I make my self—Pardon me, Sir, you are in the right. I confess I scarce knew what I did.

I thought so, poor Gentleman, I pitty him; this is the effect of Love on shoar—When do we hear of a Tarr in these [...]its, longer then the first fresh Gale—Well, I'll into Sir Richard, Eat with him, Drink with him: but to Match into his Generation, I'd as soon Marry one of his Daughters Mermaids.

Was ever Man so stupid as my self? But I will rouse from this Lethargick Dream, and seek elsewhere what is deny'd at home, absence may restore my Liberty.

Pray, my Lord, did you see my Keecky.

Keecky, what's that?

My Wife, you must know, I call her Keecky, ha, ha.

Not I, indeed—

Nay, pray my Lord, ben't angry, I only want her, to tell her what a Present of fine Wine is sent her just now; and ha, ha, ha, ha, what makes me Laugh—Is that, no Soul can tell from whence it comes.

Your Wife knows, no doubt.

No more than my self, my Lord—We have often Wine and Sweet-meats; nay, whole pieces of Silk, and the duce take me, if she could devise from whence; nay, sometimes she has been for sending them back again, but I cry'd, whose a Fool then—

I'm sure thou art one in perfection, and to me in­supportable.

My Lord, I know your Lordship has the Privi­ledge of this House, pray do me the Kindness if you find my Wife to send her out to me.

I ne'er saw so much of this Lord's Humour before; he is very Surly Methinks—Adod there are some Lords of my Wives Acquaintance, as Civil and Familiar with me, as I am with my Journeyman—Oh! here she comes.

Oh Puddy, see what my Lady Reveller has presented me withal.

Hey Keecky, why sure you Rise—as the saying is, for at Home there's Four Hampers of Wine sent ye.

From whence, Dear Puddy?

Nay, there's the Jest, neither you nor I know. I offer'd the Rogue that brought it a Guinea to tell from whence it came, and he Swore he durst not.

No, if he had I'd never have Employ'd him again.

So I gave him Half a Crown, and let him go.

It comes very Opportunely pray Puddy send a Couple of the Hampers to my Lady Revelleras a small Acknowledgement for the Rich Present she has made me.

With all my Heart, my Jewel, my Precious.

Puddy, I am strangely oblig'd to Mrs. Al­piew, do, Puddy, do, Dear Puddy.

What?

Will ye, then? Do, Dear Puddy, do, lend me a Guinea to give her, do.

P'shaw, you are always wanting Guineas, I'll send her Half a Pound of Tea, Keecky.

Tea—sha—she Drinks Ladies Tea; do, Dear Pudd, do; can you deny Keecky now?

Well, well, there.

Mrs. Alpiew, will you please to lay the Silk by for me, till I send for it, and accept of That?

Your Servant Madam, I'll be careful of it.

Thank ye, Borrow as much as you can on't, Dear Alpiew.

I warrant you, Madam.

I must Raise a Summ for Basset against Night.

Preethy Keecky, what kind of Humour'd Man is Lord Worthy? I did but ask him if he saw thee, and I Thought he would snapp'd my Nose off.

Oh a meer Woman, full of Spleen and Va­pours, he and I never agree.

Adod, I thought so—I guest'd he was none of thy Admirers—Ha, ha, ha, why there's my Lord Courtall, and my Lord Harncit, bow down to the Ground to me wherever they meet me.

Madam, Madam, the Goldsmith has sent in the Plate.

Very well, take it along with the Silk.

Here's the Jeweller; Madam, with the Diamond Ring, but he don't seem willing to leave it without Money.

Humph? I have a sudden Thought, bid him stay, and bring me the Ring—Now for the Art of Wheedling.—

What are you Whispering about? Ha? Preci­ous.—

Mrs. Alpiew says, a Friend of her has a Diamond Ring to Sell, a great Penny-worthand I know you love a Bargain Puddy.

P'shaw, I don't care for Rings; it may be a Bar­gain, and it may not; and I can't spare Money; I have Paid for a Lot this Morning; consider Trade must go forward, Lambkin.

See how it Sparkles.

Nay, Puddy, if it be not Worth your Mo­ney I don't desire you to Buy it; but don't it become my Finger, Puddy? See now.—

Ah! that Hand, that Hand it was which first got hold of my Heart; well what's the Price of it; Ha, I am ravish'd to see it upon Keecky's Finger.—

What did he say the Price was?

Two Hundred Guineas, Madam.

Threescore Pound, Dear Pudd, the De­vils in't if he won't give that.

Threescore Pounds? Why 'tis Worth a Hundred Child, Richly—'tis Stole—'tis Stole.—

Stole? I'd have you to know the Owner is my Re­lation, and has been as great a Merchant as any in London, but has had the Misfortune to have his Ships fall into the Hands of the French, or he'd not have parted with it at such a Rate; it Cost him Two Hundred Guineas.

I believe as much; indeed 'tis very fine.

So it is Keecky, and that Dear little Finger shall have it to let me Bite it; a little Tiny bit.—

Oh! Dear Pudd, you Hurt me.

Here—I han't so much Money about me, but ther's a Bill, Lambkin—there now, you'll Buss poor Pud­dy now, won't you?

Buss him—yes that I will agen, and a­gen, and agen. Dear Pudd.

You'll go Home with Puddy now to Dinner, won't you?

Yes—a—Dear Puddy, if you desire it—I will—but—a—

But what?

But I promis'd my Lady Reveller to Dine with her, Deary—do, let me Pudd—I'll Dine with you to Morrow-day.

Nay, I'm sure my Lady won't Eat a bit if she don't stay.

Well, they are all so Fond of my Wife, by Keecky, show me the Little Finger agen—Oh! Dear Little Fin­ger, by Keecky.

By own Pudd—Here Alpiew give him his Ring agen, I have my End, tell him 'tis to Dear.

But what will you say when Mr. Sago. Misses it.

I'll say—that it was two big for my Finger, and I lost it; 'tis but a Crying-bout, and the good Man melts into Pity—

SHA! Thou fluttering Thing.—So now I've fix'd it.

Madam, here's Mr. Lovely; I have introduc'd him as One of my Lady's Visitors, and brought him down the Back-stairs.

I'm oblig'd to you, he comes opportunely.

Oh! Mr. Lovely, come, come here, look through this Glass, and see how the Blood Circulates in the Tale of this Fish.

Wonderful! but it Circulates prettier in this Fair Neck.

Pshaw—be quiet—I'll show you a Curio­sity, the greatest that ever Nature made—

in opening a Dog the other Day I found this Worm.

Prodigious! 'tis the Joint-Worm, which the Learned talk of so much.

Ay, the Lumbricus Latus, or Foescia, as Hippocra­tes calls it, or Vulgarly in English the Tape-Worm. —Thudaeus tells us of One of these Worms found in a Hu­man Body 200 Foot long, without Head or Tail.

I wish they be not got into thy Brain.

Oh you Charm me with these Discoveries.

Here's another Sort of Worm call'd Lumbricus te­res Intestinalis.

I think the First you show'd me the greatest Cu­riosity.

'Tis very odd, really, that there should be every Inch a Joint, and every Joint a Mouth.—Oh the pro­found Secrets of Nature!

'Tis strangely Surprizing.—But now let me be heard, for mine's the Voice of Nature too; methinks you neglect your self, the most Perfect Piece of all her Works.

Why? What Fault do you find in me?

You have not Love enough; that Fire would Consume and Banish all Studies but its own; your Eyes wou'd Sparkle, and spread I know not what, of Lively and Touching, o'er the whole Face; this Hand, when Press'd by him you Love, would Tremble to your Heart.

Why so it does,—have I not told you Twen­ty Times I Love you,—for I hate Disguise; your Temper being Adapted to mine, gave my [...] the First Im­pression;—you know my Father's Positive,—but do not believe he shall Force me to any Thing that does not Love Philosophy.

But that Sea Captain Valeria.

If he was a Whale he might give you Pain, for I should long to Dissect him; but as he is a Man, you have no Reason to Fear him.

Consent then to Fly with me.

What, and leave my Microscope, and all my Things, for my Father to break in Pleces?

Valeria, Valeria.

Oh Heav'ns! Oh Heav'ns! he is coming up the Back-stairs. What-shall we do?

Humph, ha, cann't you put me in that Closet there?

Oh no, I han't the Key.

I'll run down the Great Stairs, let who will see me.

Oh no, no, no, no, not for your Life;—here, here, here, get under this Tub.

Sir, I'm here.

What, at your Whims—and Whirligigs, ye Baggage? I'll out at Window with them.

Oh Dear Father, save my Lumbricus Latus.

I'll Lamprey and Latum you; what's that I wonder? Ha? Where the Devil got you Names that your Father don't understand? Ha?

Oh my poor Worm! Now have you destroy'd a Thing, that, for ought I know, England cann't produce again.

What is it good for? Answer me that?—VVhat's this Tub here for? Ha?

What shall I do now?—it is, a 'tis a—Oh Dear Sir! Don't touch the Tub,—for there's a Bear's Young Cub that I have brought for Dissection,—but I dare not tonch it till the Keeper comes.

I'll Cub you, and Keeper you, with a Venge­ance to you; is my Money laid out in Bears Cubs?—I'll drive out your Cub.—

Oh the Devil discover'd, your Servant Sir.

Oh! your Servant Sir—What is this your Bear's Cub? Ha Mistress? His Taylor has lick'd him [Page 32] nto Shape I find.—What did this Man do here? Ha Hus­wife?—I doubt you have been studying Natural Phi­losophy with a Vengeance.

Indeed, Sir, he only brought me a strange Fish, and hearing your Voice I was afraid you should be Angry, and so that made me hide him.

A Fish,—'tis the Flesh I fear; I'll have you Married to Night.—I believe this Fellow was the Beg­garly Ensign, who never March'd farther than from White­hall to the Tower, who wants your Portion to make him a Brigadier, without ever seeing a Battel—Huswife, ha—tho' your Philosophical Cant, with a Murrain to you—has put the Captain out of Conceit, I have a Husband still for you;—come along, come along, I'll send the Servants to clear this Room of your Bawbles,—

I will so.

But the Servants won't, Old Gentleman, that's my Comfort still.

I'm glad they are gone, for the Duce take me if I cou'd hit the Way out.

Ha—Ensign! luckily met; I have been Labouring for you, and I hope done you a Piece of Ser­vice. Why, you look surpriz'd.

Surpriz'd! so wou'd you, Sir Harry, if you had been whelm'd under a Tub, without Room to Breath.

Under a Tub! Ha, ha, ha.

'Twas the only Place of Shelter.

Come, come, I have a better Prospect, the Captain is a very Honest Fellow, and thinks if you can bear with the Girl, you deserve her Fortune; here's your [Page 33] Part,

he'll give you your Cue, he stays at his Lodging for you.

What's the Design?

That will tell you; quick Dispatch.

Well, Sir James, I know you have a Prolifick Brain, and will rely on your Contrivances, and if it succeeds the Captain shall have a Bowl of Punch large enough to set his Ship afloat.

The Tea-Table broke up already! I fear there has been but small Recruits of Scandal to Day.

Well, I'll swear I think the Captain's a Plea­sant Fellow.

That's because he made his Court to her.

Uh—I Nauseate those Amphibious Creatures.

Umph, she was not Address'd to.

He seems neither to want Sense, Honour, nor True Courage, and methinks there is a Beauty in his Plain Delivery.

There spoke Sincerity without Affectation.

How shall we pass the Afternoon?

Aye, Ladies, how shall we?

You here! I thought you had Listed your self Volunteer under the Captain to Board some Prize, you whisper'd so often, and sneak'd out one after another.

Who would give one self the Pains to Cruise Abroad, when all one Values is at Home?

To whom is this Directed? Or will you Mo­nopolize and Ingross us all?

No,—tho' you would wake Desire in every Beholder, I resign you to my Worthy Friend.

And the rest of the Company have no Pre­tence to you.

That's more than she knows.

Beauty, like yours, wou'd give all Mankind Pretence.

So, not a Word to me; are these his Vows?

There's One upon the Teaze already.

Why, you are in Disorder, my Dear; you look as if you had lost a Trant-Leva: What have you said to her, Sir James?

I said, Madam? I hope I never say any Thing to offend the Ladies. The Devils in these Married Women, they cann't conceal their own Intriegues, though they Swear us to Secrecy.

You mistake, Cousin, 'tis his saying nothing to her has put her upon the Fret.

Ah, your Observations are always Malici­ous.

I despise them, Dear Lady Reveller, let's in to Picquet; I suppose Lady Lucy would be pleas'd with Sir James alone to finish her Remarks.

Nay, if you remove the Cause, the Discourse ceases.

This you draw upon your self, you will discover it.

Yes, your Falshood.

Come my Dear, Sir James, will you make One at a Pool?

Pardon me, Madam, I'm to be at White's in Half an Hour, anon at the Basset-Table. I'm Yours.

No, no, he cann't leave her.

They play Gold, Sir James.

Madam, were your Heart the Stake I'd Renounce all Engagements to win that, or retrieve my own.

I must like the Counterstake very well er'e I play so high.

Sir James, hearkee, One Word with you.

Ha, ha, I knew she could not stir; I'll re­move your Constraint, but, with my wonted Freedom, will tell you plainly—your Husband's Shop wou'd better become you than Gaming and Gallants. Oh Shame to Virtue, that we shou'd Copy Men in their most Reigning Vices!

Farewel Sentences.

Madam—

So then, you'd persuade me 'twas the Care of my Fame.

Nothing else I protest, my Dear little Rogue; I have as much Love as you, but I have more Conduct.

Well, you know how soon I forgive you your Faults.

Now to what Purpose have I Lied my self in­to her good Graces, when I would be glad to be rid of her?

Booted and Spurr'd say you? Pray send him [Page 36] up, Sir James; I suppose Trusty Buckle is come with some Diverting Embassy from your Friend.

Why in this Equipage?

Ah! Madam.—

Out with it.

Farewel Friends, Parents, and my Country; thou Dear Play-house, and sweet Park, Farewel.

Farewel, why, whither are you going?

My Lord and I am going where they never knew Deceit.

That Land is Invisible, Buckle.

Ha, ha, ha.

Were my Lord of my Mind your Ladiship should not have had so large a Theme for your Mirth. Your Servant Ladies.

Well, but what's your Business?

My Lord charg'd me in his Name to take his Everlasting Leave of your Ladiship.

Why, where is he a going pray?

In search of a Country where there is no Women.

Oh dear, why what have the Women done to him pray?

Done to him, Madam? He says they are Proud, Perfidious, Vain, Inconstant, Coquets in England.

Oh! He'll find they are everywhere the same.

And this is the Cause of his Whimsical Pilgrimage? Ha, ha.

And this proceeds from your ill Usage, Madam; when he left your House,—he flung himself into his Coach with such a Force, that he broke all the Windows,—as they say,—for my Part I was not there;—when he came Home he beat all his Servants round to be Re­veng'd.

Was you there, Buckle?

No, I thank my Stars, when I arriv'd the Expe­dition was over;—in Haste he Mounted his Cham­ber,—flung himself upon his Bed,—Bursting out into a Violent Passion,—Oh that ever I should suffer my self to be impos'd upon, said he, by this Coquetish Beau­ty!

Meaning me, Buckle, Ha, ha?

Stay till I have finish'd the Piece, Madam, and your Ladiship shall judge;—she's as Fickle as she's Fair,—she does not use more Art to Gain a Lover, said he, than to deceive him when he is fix'd.—Humph.

Pleasant—and does he call this taking Leave?

A Comical Adieu.

Oh, Madam, I'm not come to the Tragical Part of it yet, starting from his Bed.—

I thought it had been all Farce,—if there be any Thing Heroick in't I'll set my Face and look Grave.

My Relation will require it, Madam, for I am ready to weep at the Repetition: Had you but seen how often he Travast the Room,

heard how often he stamp'd, what distorted Faces he made, casting up his Eyesthu [...], Biting his Thumbs thus.

Ha, ha, ha, you'll make an Admirable Actor,—shall I speak to the Patentees for you?

But pray how did this end?

At last, Madam, quite spent with Rage, he sunk down upon his Elbow, and his Head fell upon his Arm.

What, did he faint away?

Oh, no.

He did not die?

No, Madam, but he fell asleep.

Oh Brave Prince Pretti [...]an.

Ha, ha, ha.

After Three Hours Nap he Wak'd—and cal­ling hastily—my Dear Buckle, said he, let's to the End of the World; and try to sind a Place where the Sun Shines not here and there at one Time—for 'tis not fit that it should at once look upon Two Per­sons whose Sentiments are so Different—She no longer regards my Pain, Ungrateful, False, Inhumane, Barbarous Woman.

Foolish, Fond, Believing, Easie Man; there's my Answer—Come, shall we to Piquet, my Dear?

Hold, hold, Madam, I han't half done—

Oh! Pray my Dear Lady Reveller, let's have it out, 'tis very Diverting—

He call'd me in a feeble Voice; Buckle, said he, bring me my little Serutore—for I will write to Lady Reveller before I part from this Place, never to behold her more—what, don't you Cry, Madam?

Cry—No, no, go on, go on.

'Tis done, Madam—and there's the Letter.

So, this Compleats the Narration.

Can any Man in the World write more Tenderly, Madam? Does he not say 'tis Impossible to Love you, and go for Flanders? And that he would rather hear of your Death then Return.—

Excellent, Ha, ha.

What, do you Laugh?

Who can forbear?

I think you ought to Die with Grief; I warrant Heaven will punish you all.

But hearkee, Buckle, where are you going now?

To tell my Lord in what Manner your Lady re­ceiv'd his Letter; Farewel—now for Flanders.—

A fair Wind, and a good Voyage to you.

My Lord, here? So now may I have my Head Broke for my long Harangue if it comes out.

Oh! Miraculous—my Lord, you have not finish'd your Campaign already, have you? Ha, ha, ha; or has the French made Peace at hearing of your Lordship's intended Bravery, and left you no Enemies to Combate?

My worst of Foes are here—here, within my Breast; your Image, Madam.

Oh Dear, my Lord, no more of that Theme, for Buckle has given us a Surfeit on't already—even from your Breaking the Glasses of your Coach—to your falling fast Asleep. Ha, ha, ha.

The Glasses of my Coach! What do you mean, Ma­dam—Oh Hell!

Ruined quite.—Madam, for Heavens sake what does your Ladiship Mean? I Li'd in every Syllable I told you, Madam.

Nay, if your Lordship has a Mind to Act it over agen we will Oblige you for once —Alpiew set Chairs—come, Dear Sago, sit down—and let the Play begin —Buckle knows his Part, and upon Necessity cou'd Act yours too my Lord.

What has this Dog been doing? When he was only to deliver my Letter, to give her new Subject for her Mirth—Death, methinks I hate her,—Oh that I cou'd hold that Mind—what makes you in this Equipage? Ha! Sirrah?

My Lord, I, I, I, I,

Peace Villain—

Hey—this is Changing the Scene—

Who the Devil would Rack his Brains for these People of Quality, who like no Body's Wit but their own?—

If the Beating were Invention before, thou hast it now in Reality; if Wars begin I'll Retire. They may agree better alone perhaps.

Where did you learn this Rudeness, my Lord, to Strike your Servant before me?

When you have depriv'd a Man of his Reason how can you blame his Conduct?

Reason—Egad—there's not Three Drams of Reason between you both—as my Cheek can testifie.

The Affront was meant to me—nor will I en­dure these Passions—I thought I had forbid your Visits.

I thought I had Resolv'd against them to.

But Resolutions are of small force of either side.

Grant me but this One Request and I'll remove this hated Object.

Upon Condition 'tis the last.

It shall—I think it shall at least—Is there a Happy Man for whom I am Despised?

I thought 'twas some such ridiculous Question; I'm of the Low-Church, my Lord, consequently hate Con­fessors; ha, ha, ha.

And Penance to I dare Swear.

And every thing but Play.

Dare you, the Subject of my Power—you, that Petition Love, Arraign my Pleasures? Now I'm sixt—and will never see you more.

Now wou'd any Body Swear she's in Earnest.

I cannot bear that Curse—see me at your Feet again,

Oh! you have Tortur'd me enough, [Page 41] take Pity now Dear Tyrant, and let my Suffering end.

I must not be Friends with him, for then I shall have him at my Elbow all Night, and spoil my Luck at the Basset-Table.

Either Cringing or Correcting, always in Extreams—I am weary of this Fatigue.

There's the Inside of a Woman.

Gon—now Curses on me for a Fool—the worst of Fools—a Woman's Fool—

Well, my Lord. I have left my Cards in the Hand of a Friend to hear what you have to say to me. Love I'm sure is the Text, therefore Divide and Subdivide as quick as you can.

Coud'st thou Infuse into me thy Temper, Sir James, I shou'd have thy Reason too; but I am Born to Love this Fickle, Faithless Fair—what have I not Essay'd to Race her from my Breast? But all in Vain; I must have her, or I must not Live.

Nay, if you are so far gone, my Lord, your Distemper requires an Able Physician—what think you of Loveley's bringing a File of Muscqueteers, and car­ry her away, Via & Armis?

That Way might give her Person to my Arms, but where's the Heart?

A Trifle in Competition with her Body.

The Heart's the Gem that I prefer.

Say you so my Lord? I'll Engage Three Parts of Europe will make that Exchange with you; Ha, ha, ha.

That Maxim wou'd hold with me perhaps in all but her, there I must have both or none; therefore In­struct, me Friend, thou who negligent in Love, keeps al­ways on the Level with the Fair—what Method shou'd I take to Sound her Soul's Design? For tho' her Carriage puts me on the Rack when I behold that Train of Fools about her, yet my Heart will plead in her Ex­cuse, and Calm my Anger Spite of all Efforts.

Humph? I have a Plot, my Lord, if you'll comply with it.

Nothing of Force.

Whate're it be you shall be Witness of it, 'twill either Quench your Flame, or Kindle hers. I only will appear the Guilty; but here's Company, I'll tell you all within.

I'll expect you.

Ha, Captain, How sits the Wind between you and your Mistress? Ha?

North and by South, Faith; but here's one Sails full East, and without some unexpected Tornado, from the Old Man's Coast—he makes his Port I warrant ye.

I wish I were at Anchor once.

Why, thou art as arrant a Tar as if thou hadst made an East-India Voyage, ha, ha.

Ay, am I not, Sir James? But Egad I hope the Old Fellow understands nothing of Navigation; if he does I shall be at a loss for the Terms.

Oh! no matter for Terms—look big, and Bluster for your Country—describe the Vigo Business—publick News will furnish you with that, and I'll engage the Success.

Ay, Ay, let me alone, I'll bear up with Sir Richard, and thou shalt Board his Pinnace with Consent ne'er fear.—ho, here he comes full Sail.

I'm glad to see you; this is my Kinsman which I told you of, as soon as he Landed; I brought him to Kiss your Hands.

I Honour you, you are welcome.

I thank you Sir,—I'm not for Compliments; 'tis a Land Language I understand it not; Courage, Honesty, and Plain-dealing Truth, is the Learning of our Element; if you like that I am for ye.

The Rogue does it to a Miracle.

He's an improving Spark I find, ha, ha.

Like it, Sir, why 'tis the only Thing I do like, hang Compliments, and Court-Breeding, it serves only to make Men a Prey to one another, to Encourage Cowardice, and Ruin Trade—No, Sir, give me the Man that dares meet Death and Dinner with the same Appe­tite— [Page 44] one who rather than let in Popery, wou'd let out his Blood; to Maintain such Men I'd pay Double Custom; nay, all my Gain shou'd go for their Support. Gaptain lanch off a round Lie or Two.

The best Well-wisher to his Country of an Englishman I ever heard.

Oh, Sir Richard, I wish the Nation were all of your Mind, 'twou'd give the Soldiers and the Sailors Life.

And make us Fight with Heart and Hand; my Kinsman, I'll assure you, fits your Principle to a Hair; he hates the French so much he ne'er fails to give them a Broad­side where'er he meets them; and has Brought in more Privateers this War than half the Captains in the Navy; he was the first Man that Boarded the French Fleet at Vigo—and in Gibraltar Business—the Gazettes will inform you of the Name of Captain Match.

Is this that Captain Match?

For want of better, Sir.

Sir, I shall be Proud of being known to you.

And I of being Related to you, Sir,—I have a Daughter Young and Handsome, and I'll give her a Portion shall make thee an Admiral Boy; for a Soul like thine is fit only to Command a Navy—what say'st thou, art thou for a Wife?

So, 'tis done, ha, ha, ha.

A prosperous Gale I'faith.

I don't know, Sir Richard, mehap a Woman may not like me; I am Rough and Storm-like in my Temper, unacquainted with the Effeminacy of Co [...]rts; I was Born upon the Sea, and since I can remember never Liv'd Two Months on Shore; if I Marry my Wife must go Abroad, I promise you that.

Abroad Man? Why she shall go to the Indies with the—Oh! such a Son-in-Law—how shall I be Blest in my Posterity? Now do I foresee the Greatness of [Page 45] my Grand-Children; the Sons of this Man shall, in the Age to come, make France a Tributary Nation.

Once in an Engagement, Sir, as I was giving Or­ders to my Men, comes a Ball and took off a Fellow's Head, and struck it full in my Teeth; I wipp'd it up, clapp'd it into a Gun, and shot it at the Enemy again.

Without the least Concern?

Concern, Sir,—ha, ha, ha, if it had been my own Head I would have done the like.

Prodigious Effect of Courage!—Cap­tain I'll fetch my Girl, and be here again in an Instant:—What an Honour 'twill be to have such a Son!

Ha, ha, ha, ha, you outdo your Master.

Ha, ha, ha, ha, the Old Knight's Transported.

I wish 'twas over, I am all in a Sweat; here he comes agrin.

I'll hear none of your Excuses,—Captain your Hand,—there take her,—and these Gentle­men shall be Witnesses, if they please, to this Paper, where­in I give her my whole Estate when I die, and Twenty Thousand Pounds down upon the Nail; I care not whe­ther my Boy be worth a Groat,—get me but Grandsons and I'm Rich enough.

Generously said I'faith—much Good may do him with her.

I'll do my Eedeavour, Father, I promise you.

I wish you Joy, Captain, and you, Madam.

That's Impossible;—can I have Joy in a Spe­cies so very different from miy own? Oh my Dear Love­ly!—We were only form'd one for another;—thy Dear Enquiring Soul is more to me—than all these useless Lumps of Animated Clay: Duty compels my Hand,—but my Heart is subject only to my Mind,— [Page 46] the Strength of that they cannot Conquer;—no, with the Resolution of the Great Unparallell'd Epictetus,—I here protest my Will shall ne're assent to any but my Lovely.

Ay, you and your Will may Philosophize as long as you please,—Mistress,—but your Body shall be taught another Doctrine,—it shall so,—Your Mind,—and your Soul, quotha! Why, what a Pox has my Estate to do with them? Ha? 'Tis the Flesh Huswife, that must raise Heirs,—and Supporters of my Name;—and since I knew the getting of the E­state, 'tis fit I shou'd dispose of it,—and therefore no more Excuses, this is your Husband do you see,—take my Word for it.

Come, Captain,—my Chaplain is within, he shall do the Business this Minute: If I don't use the Autho­rity of a Father, this Baggage will make me lose such a Son-in-law that the City's Wealth cann't purchase me his Fellow.

Thanks Dear Invention for this Timely Aid.

The Baits gon down, he's by himself betray'd.

Thus still where Arts both True and Honest fail,

Deceitful Wit and Policy prevail.

To Death, or any Thing,—'tis all alike to me.

Get you in I say,—Hussey, get you in. In my Conscience my Niece has spoil'd her already; but I'll have her Married this Moment; Captain, you have bound [Page 47] me ever to you by this Match, command me and my House for ever.—But shall I not have your Company, Gen­tlemen, to be Witnesses of this Knot, this joyful Knot?

Yes Faith, Sir Richard, I have too much Respect for my Kinsman to leave him—till I see him safe in Har­bour; Ill wait on you presently.

I am engag'd in the next Room at Play, I beg your Pardon, Sir Richard, for an Hour; I'll bring the whole Company to Congratulate the Bride and Bridegroom.

Bride and Bridegroom? Congratulate me, Man: Methinks I already see my Race Recorded amongst the foremost Heroes of my Nation.—Boys, all Boys,—and all Soldiers.

Ha, ha, ha, never was Man so Bigotted be­fore;—how will this end when he discovers the Cheat? Ha, ha, won't you make One with the Ladies, Captain?

I don't care if I do venture a Piece or Two, I'll but dispatch a little Business and meet you at the Table, Sir James.

Ha, Lady Lucy! Is your Ladiship reconccil'd to Basset yet? Will you give me leave to lose this Purse to you, Madam?

I thank Fortune I neither wish, nor need it, Sir James; I presume the next Room is furnish'd with Ava­rice enough to serve you in that Affair, if it is a Burden to you; or Mrs. Sago's ill Luck may give you an Opportunity of returning some of the Obligations you lye under.

Your Sex, Madam, extorts a Duty from ours, [Page 48] and a well-bred Man can no more refuse his Money to a La­dy, than his Sword to a Friend.

That Superfluity of good Manners, Sir James, would do better Converted into Charity; this Town abounds with Objects—wou'd it not leave a more Glorious Fame behind you to be the Founder of some Pious Work; when all the Poor at mention of your Name shall Bless your Memory; than that Posterity shou'd say you Wasted your Estate on Cards and Women?

Humph, 'tis pity she were not a Man, she Preaches so Emphatically.

Faith, Madam, you have a very good Notion, but something too Early—when I am Old, I may put your Principles in Practice, but Youth for Pleasure was design'd—

The truest Pleasure must consist in doing Good, which cannot be in Gaming.

Every thing is good in its Kind, Madam; Cards are harmless Bits of Paper, Dice insipid Bones—and Women made for Men.

Right, Sir James—but all these things may be perveted—Cards are harmless Bits of Paper in themselves, yet through them what Mischiefs have been Done? What Orphans Wrong'd? What Tradesmen Ruin'd? What Coach and Equipage dismist for them?

But then, how many fine Coaches and Equi­pages have they set up, Madam?

Is it the more Honourable for that? How ma­ny Misses keep Coaches too? Which Arrogance in my Opinion only makes them more Eminently Scandalous—

Oh! those are such, as have a Mind to be Damn'd in this S [...]ate, Madam—but I hope your Ladi­ships don't Rank them amongst us Gamesters.

They are Inseparable, Sir James; Madam's Grandeur must be Upheld—tho' the Baker and Butcher shut up Shop.

Oh! your Ladiship wrongs us middling Gentlemen there; to Ruin Tradesmen is the Qualities Pre­rogative only; and none beneath a Lord can pretend to do't with an Honourable Air, ha, ha.

Their Example sways the meaner Sort; I grieve to think that Fortune shou'd Exalt such Vain, such Vitious Souls—whilst Virtue's Cloath'd in Raggs.

Ah! Faith, she'd make but a scurvy Figure at Court, Madam, the States-men and Politcians wou'd Suppress her quickly—but whilst she remains in your Breast she's safe—and makes us all in Love with that Fair Covering.

Oh! Fie, Fi, Sir James, you cou'd not Love one that hates your chief Direction.

I shou'd Hate it too, Madam, on some Terms that I cou'd Name.

What wou'd make that Conversion pray?

Your Heart.

I cou'd pay that Price—but dare not Venture upon one so Wild—

First let me see the Fruit e'er I take a Lease of the Garden, Sir James.

Oh! Madam, the best Way is to Secure the Ground, and then you may Manure and Cultivate it as you please.

That's a certain Trouble and uncertain Profit. and in this Affair; I prefer the Theory before the Practick But I detain you from the Table, Sir James—you are wanted to Tally—your Servant—

Nay, if you leave me, Madam, the Devil will Tempt me—she's gone, and now cann't I shake off the Thought of Seven Wins, Eight Loses—for the Blood of me—and all this Grave Advice of hers is lost, Faith—tho' I do Love her above the rest of her Sex—she's an exact Model of what all Women ought to be,—and yet your Merry little Coquetish Tits are very Di­verting—well, now for Basset; let me see what Money have I about—me. Humph! about a Hundred Gnineas—half of which will set the Ladies to Cheating—false Parolies in Abundance.

Oh! Sir James, are you come? We want you to Tally for us.

What Luck, Ladies?

I have only won a Sept & Leva.

And I have lost a Trante & Leva—my Ill Fortune has not forsook me yet I see.

I go a Guinea upon that Card.

You lose that Card.

I Mace Sir James's Card Double.

Seven wins, and Five loses; you have lost it, Madam.

Agen?—sure never was Woman so Unlucky—

Knave wins, and Ten loses; you have Won, Sir James.

Clean Cards here.

Burn this Book, 'thas an unluckly Air.

Bring some more Books.

Oh! Captain—here set a Chair, come, Captain you, shall sit by me—now if we can but Strip this Tarr.

Withal my Heart, Madam—come, what do you Play Gold?—that's something High tho'—well a Guinea upon this Honest Knave of Clubs.

You lose it for a Guinea more.

Done, Madam.

The Five Wins, and the Knave loses.

You have lost it, Captain.

The Knave wins, for Two Guineas more, Madam.

Done Sir James.

Six Wins—Knave Loses.

Oh! the Devil, I'm Fac't, I had rather have lost it all.

Nine wins, Queen loses—you have won,

I'll make a Paroli—I Mace as much more; your Card loses, Sir James, for Two Guineas, your's, Captain, loses for a Guineas more.

Four wins, Nine loses—you have Lost, Madam.

Oh! I cou'd Tear my Flesh—as I Tear these Cards—Confusion—I can never win above a wretch'd Paroli; for if I push to Sept & Leva, tis gone.

Ace wins, Knave loses.

Sink the Knave, I'll set no more on't.

Fac't agen—what's the meaning of this Ill-luck to Night? Bring me a Book of Hearts, I'll try if they are more Successful, that on the Queen; yours and your Cards loses.

Bring me a fresh Book; bring me another Book; bring me all Diamonds.

That can never be lucky, the Name of Jewels don't become a Citizen's Wife.

King wins, the Tray loses.

You have great Luck to Night, Mr. Sharper.

So I have Sir James—I have won Sonica every time.

But if he has got the Nack of winning thus he shall sharp no more here, I promise him.

I Mace that.

Sir James, pray will you T [...]lly.

With all my Heart, Madam.

Pray give me the Cards, Sir.

I set that.

I set Five Guineas upon this Card, Sir James.

Done Madam,—Five wins,—Six loses.

I Set that.

Five don't go, and Seven loses.

I Mace double.

I Mace that.

Three wins, Six loses.

I Mace, I Mace double, and that—Oh ye malicious Stars!—again.

Eight wins Seven loses.

So, this Trante & leva makes some Amends;—Adsbud I hate Cheating,—What's that false Cock made for now? Ha, Madam?

Nay, Mrs. Sago, if you begin to play foul.

Rude Brute, to take Notice of the Slight of Hand in our Sex—I protest he wrongs me, Madam,—there's the Dernier, Stake,—and I'll set it all,—now Fortune Favour me, or this Moment is my last.

There's the last of Fifty Pounds,—what's the Meaning of this?

Now for my Plot, her Stock is low I perceive.

I never had such ill Luck,—I must fetch more Money: Ha; from whence comes this? This is the Genteelest Piece of Gallantry, the Action is Sir Harry's, I see by his Eyes.

Nine wins, Six loses

I am ruin'd and undone for ever; oh, oh, oh, to loose every Card, oh, oh, ho.

So there's one Vessel sprung aleek, and I am almost ashoar—If I go on at this Rate, I shall make but a lame Voyage on't I doubt.

Duce wins, King loses.

I Mace again,—I Mace Double, I mace again;—now the Devil blow my Head off if ever I saw Cards run so; Dam 'em.

Fie, Captain, this Concern among the Ladies is indecent.

Dam the Ladies,—mayn't I swear,—or tear my Cards if I please, I'm sure I have paid for them; pray count the Cards, I believe there's a false Tally.

No, they are Right, Sir.

Not to turn One Card! Oh, oh, oh.

Madam, if you play no longer pray don't disturb those that do.—Come, Courage, Captain,—Sir James's Gold was very lucky;—who cou'd endure these Men did they not lose their Money?

Bring another Book here;—that upon Ten,—and I Mace that.—

King face't, Eight wins, Ten loses.

Fire and Gunpowder.

Ha, ha, ha, what is the Captain vanish'd in his own Smoak?—Come, I Bett with you, Mr. Sharper; your Card loses.

Sir, do you think it possible to lose a Trante & Leva a Quinse-leva,—and a Sept-et-leva,—and never turn once

No sure, 'tis almost Impossible.

Ounds you lie, I did Sir.

Ah, ah.

What the Devil, had I to do among these Land-Rats?—Zounds, to lose Forty Pounds for nothing, not so much as a Wench for it; Ladies, quotha,—a Man [Page 54] had as good be acquainted with Pick-pockets.

Ha, ha, ha, the Captain has frighted the Wo­men out of their Wits,—now to keep my Promise with my Lord, tho' the Thing has but an ill Face, no Matter.

SIR James, what have you done with the Rude Porpois?

He is gone to your Uncle's Apartment, Madam, I suppose.—I was in Pain till I knew how your La­diship did after your Fright.

Really, Sir James, the Fellow has put me into the Spleen by his ill Manners. Oh my Stars! That there should be such an unpolished Piece of Humane Race, to be in that Disorder for losing his Money to us Women.—I was apprehensiev he would have beat me, ha, ha.

Ha, ha, your Ladiship must impute his ill Breeding to the Want of Conversation with your Sex; but he is a Man of Honour with his own, I assure you.

I hate out of fashion'd Honour.—Bu [...] where's the Company, Sir James? Shan't we play again?

All disperss'd, Madam.

Come, you and I'll go to Picquet then.

Oh I'm tir'd with Cards, Madam, cann't you think of some other Diversion to pass a chearful Hour?—I cou'd tell you One if you'd give me leave.

Of your own Invention? Then it must be a pleasant One.

Oh the pleasantest one in the World.

What is it I pray?

Love, Love, my Dear Charmer.

Oh Cupid! How came that in your Head?

Nay, 'tis in my Heart, and except you pity me the Wound is Mortal.

Ha, ha, ha, is Sir James got into my Lord Worthy's Class?—You that could tell me I should not have so large a Theme for my Diversion, were you in his Place, ha, ha, ha; what, and is the Gay, the Airy, the Wit­ty, Inconstant, Sir James overtaken? Ha, ha.

Very true, Madam,—you see there is no jesting with Fire.—Will you be kind?

Kind? What a dismal Sound was there?—I'm afraid your Feaver's high, Sir James, ha, ha.

If you think so, Madam, 'tis time to apply cooling Medicines.

Ha, what Insolence is this? The Door lock'd! What do you mean Sir James?

Oh 'tis something indecent to Name it, Ma­dam, but I intend to show you.

Unhand me, Villain, or I'll cry out.—

Do, and make your self the Jest of Servants, expose your Reputation to their vile Tongues,—which if you please shall remain safe within my Breast; but if with your own Noise you Blast it, here I bid Defiance to all Honour and Secrecy,—and the First Man that enters dies.

What shall I do? Instruct me Heaven—Monster, is this your Friendship to my Lord? And can you wrong the Woman he Adores.

Ay, but the Woman does not care a Souse for him; and therefore he has no Right above me; I love you as much, and will possess.

Oh! hold—Kill me rather than destroy my Honour—what Devil has Debauch'd your Temper? Or how has my Carriage drawn this Curse upon me? What have I done to give you cause to think you ever shou'd succeed this hated Way.

Why this Question, Madam? Can a Lady [Page 56] that loves Play so passionately as you do—that takes as much Pains to draw Men in to lose their Money, as a Town Miss to their Destruction—that Caresses all Sorts of People for your Interest, that divides your time between your Toylet and the Basset-Table; (can you, I say, boast of Innate Virtue?—Fie, fie, I am sure you must have guess'd for what I Play'd so Deep—we never part with our Money without Design—or writing Fool upon our Foreheads;—therefore no more of this Re­sistance, except you would have more Money.

Oh! horrid.

There was Fifty Guineas in that Purse, Ma­dam—here's Fifty more; Money shall be no Dispute.

Perish your Money with your self—you Villain—there, there; take your boasted Favours, which I resolv'd before to have Repaid in Specie; Basest of Men I'll have your Life for this Affront—what ho, within there.

Hush—Faith, you'll Raise the House.

And 'tis in Vain—you are mine; nor will I quit this Room till I'm Possest.

Raise the House, I'll raise the World in my Defence, help, Murther, Murther,—a Rape, a Rape—

Ha! Villain, unhand the Lady—or this Moment is thy last.

Villain, Back my Lord—follow me.

By the Bright Sun that Shines you shall not go—no, you have sav'd my Virtue, and I will preserve your Life—let the vile Wretch be punish'd by viler Hands—yours shall not be Prophan [...]d with Blood so Base, if I have any Power—

Shall the Traytor Live?—Tho' your Barbarous Usage does not Merit this from me, yet in Consideration [Page 57] that I Lov'd you once—I will Chastise his Insolence.

Once—Oh! say not once; do you not Love me still? Oh! how pure your Soul appears to me above that Detested Wretch.

It takes as I cou'd Wish—

Yet how have I been slighted, every Fop preferr'd to me?—Now you Discover what Inconveniency your Gaming has brought you into—this from me wou'd have been unpardonable Advice—now you have prov'd it at your own Expence.

I have, and hate my self for all my Folly—Oh! forgive me—and if still you think me Worthy of your Heart—I here Return you Mine—and will this Hour Sign it with my Hand.

How I Applaud my self for this Contrivance.

Oh! the Transporting Joy, it is the only Happi­ness I Covet here.

Sir James. Ha, ha, ha, ha, how am I Censur'd now for doing this Lady a iece of Service, in forcing that upon her, which only her Vanity and Pride Restrain'd.

Ha, Lady Lucy!—Having Succeeded for my Friend, who knows but this may be my Lucky Mi­nute too?—Madam, you come Opportunely to hear.

Stand off Basest of Men, I have heard too much; coud'st thou Chuse no House but this to Act thy Villanies in? And cou'd'st thou fairly offer Vows to me, when thy Heart, Poison'd with vicious Thoughts, harbour'd this Designs against my Family?

Very fine, Faith, this is like to be my Lucky [Page 58] Minute with a Witness; but Madam—

Offer not at Excuses, 'tis height of Impu­dence to look me in the Face.

Egad she Loves me—Oh! Happy Rogue—this Concern can proceed from nothing else.

My Heart till now unus'd to Passion swells with this Affront, wou'd Reproach thee—wou'd Re­proach my self, for having Harbour'd one favourable Thought of thee.

Why did you, Madam?—Egad I owe more to her Anger than ever I did to her Morals.

Ha! What have I said?

The only kind Word you ever utter'd.

Yes, Imposture, know to thy Confusion that I did love the, and fancy'd I Discover'd some Seeds of Virtue amongst that Heap of Wickedness; but this last Action has betray'd the Fond Mistake, and show'd thou art all o'er Feign'd.

Give me leave, Madam—

Think not this Confession meant to ad­vance thy Impious Love, but hear my Final Resolution.

Egad I must hear it—I find for there's no stopping her.

From this Moment I'll never—

Nay, nay, nay, after Sentence no Criminal is allow'd to Plead; there­fore I will be hear'd—not Guilty, not Guilty. Madam, by—if I don't prove that this is all a Stratagem, Con­triv'd, Study'd, Design'd, Prosecuted, and put in Executi­on, to reclaim your Cousin, and give my Lord Possession—may you Finish your Curse, and I Doom'd to Everlasting Absence—Egad I'm out of Breath—

Oh! Cond'st thou prove this?

I can, if by the Proof you'll make me Hap­py; my Lord shall Convince you.

To him I will refer it, on this Truth your Hopes Depend.

I was never out at a Critical Minute in my Life.

Hearkee, Mistress, is my Wife here?

Truly I shant give my self the Trouble of seeking her for him; now she has lost all her Money—your Wife is a very Indiscreet Person, Sir.

I'm afraid I shall find it so to my Cost.

Come, come, Sir, we cann't wait all Day—the Actions are a Thousand Pound—you shall have time to send for Bail, and what Friends you Please.

A Thousand Pound?

Oh! Lambkin have you Spent me a Thousand Pound.

Who, I Pudd? Oh! undone for Ever—

Pud me no Pud,—do you Owe Mr. Tabby the Mercer Two Hundred Pounds? Ha.

I, I, I, don't know the Sum Dear Pudd—but, but, but I do Owe him something; but I believe he made me Pay too Dear.

Oh! thou Wolfkin instead of Lambkin—for thou hast Devour'd my Substance; and dost thou Owe Mr. Dollor the Goldsmith Three Hundred Pound? Dost thou? Ha, speak Tygress.

Sure it cann't be quite Three Hundred Pound.

Thou Island Crocodile thou—and dost thou Owe Ratsbane the Vintner a Hundred Pound? And were those Hampers of Wine which I receiv'd so Joyfully sent by thy self, to thy self? Ha.

Yes indeed, Puddy—I, I, I, beg your Pardon.

And why didst not thou tell me of them? Thou Rattle-Snake?—for they say they have sent a Hundred times for their Money—else I had not been Arrested in my Shop.

Be, be, be, because I, I, I was afraid, Dear Puddy.

But wer't not thou afraid to Ruin me tho, Dear Pudd. Ah! I need ask the, no more Questions, thou Ser­pent in Petticoats; did I Doat upon thee for this? Here's a Bill from Calico the Linnen-Draper, another from Setwell the Jeweller—from Coupler a Mantua-Maker, and Pimpwell the Milliner; a Tribe of Locusts enough to undo a Lord Mayor.

I hope not, truly, Dear, Dearey, I'm sure that's all.

All with a Pox—no Mrs. Jezebel, that's. not all; there's Two Hundred Pound Due to my self for Tea, Coffee and Chocolet, which my Journey-man has Confess'd fince your Roguery came out—that you have Imbezell'd, Huswife, you have; so, this comes of your keep­ing Quality Company—e'en let them keep you now, for I have done with you, you shall come no more within my Doors I promise you.

Oh! Kill me rather; I never did it with De­sign to part with you, indeed Puddy.

No, no, I believe not whilst I was Worth a Groat. Oh!

How! Mrs. Sago in Tears, and my honest Friend in Ruffins Hands; the meaning of this.

Oh! Sir James—my Hypocritical Wife is as much a Wife as any Wife in the City—I'm Arrested here in an Action of a Thousand Pound, that she has taken up Goods for, and Gam'd away; get out of my sight, get out of my sight, I say.

Indeed and indeed.

Dear Puddy but I cannot—no, here will I Hang forever on this Neck.

Help, Murder, Murder, why, why, what will you Collar me?

Right Woman, I must try to make up this Breach—Oh! Mr. Sago, you are unkind—'tis pure Love that thus Transports your Wife, and not such Base Designs as you Complain of.

Yes, yes, and she run me in Debt out of pure Love to no doubt.

So it was Pudd.

VVhat was it? (Ha Mistress) out of love to me that you have undone me? Thou, thou, thou, I don't know what to call thee bad enough.

You won't hear your Keckey out, Dear Pudd, it was out of Love for Play,—but for Lo, Lo, Love to you, Dear Pudd; if you'll forgive me I'll ne'er play again.

Nay, now, Sir, you must forgive her.

What, forgive her that would send me to Jayl?

No, no, there's no Danger of that, I'll Bail you, Mr. Sago, and try to Compound those Debts.—You know me Officers.

Very well, Sir James, your Worship's Word is sufficient.

There's your Fees, then leave here your Priso­ner, I'll see him forth coming.

With all our Hearts; your Servant, Sir.

Ah thou wicked Woman, how I have doated on those Eyes! How often have I kneel'd to kiss that Hand! Ha, is not this true, Keckey?

Yes, Deary, I, I, I, I do confess it.

Did ever I refuse to grant wbatever thou ask'd me?

No, never, Pudd.—

Might'st thou not have eaten Gold, as the Say­ing is? Ha?—Oh Keecky, Keecky!

Leave Crying, and wheedle him, Madam, whee­dle him.

I do confess it, and cann't you forgive your Keckey then that you have been so Tender of, that you so of­ten confest your Heart has jump'd up to your Motuh when you have heard my Beauty prais'd.

So it has I profess, Sir James,—I begin to melt,—I do; I am a good-natur'd Fool, that's the Truth on't: But if I should sorgive you, what would you [Page 62] do to make me Amends? For that Fair Face, if I turn you out of Doors, will quickly be a cheaper Drug than any in my Shop.

And not maintain her half so well;—pro­mise largely, Madam.

I'll Love you for ever, Deary.

But you'll Jigg to Covent-Garden again.

No, indeed I won't come within the Air on't, but take up with City Acquaintance, rail at the Court, and go Twice a Week with Mrs. Outside to Pin-makers-hall.

That would rejoice my Heart.

See, if the good Man is not ready to weep; your last Promise has conquer'd.—Come, come, Buss and be Friends, and end the Matter.—I'm glad the Quarrel is made up, or I had had her upon my Hands.

Pudd, don't you hear Sir James, Pudd?

I can hold no longer,—yes, I do hear him,—come then to the Arms of thy n'own Pudd.

Now all's well; and for your Comfort Lady Reveller is by this Time married to my Lord Worthy, and there will be no more Gaming I assure you in that House.

Joys upon Joys. Now if these Debts were but Accommodated, I should be happier than ever; I should indeed Kickky.

Leave that to me, Mr. Sago, I have won Part of your Wife's Money, and will that Way restore it you.

I thank you, good Sir James, I believe you are the First Gamester that ever Refunded.

Generously done,—Fortune has brought me. off this Time, and I'll never trust her more.

But see the Bride and Bridegroom.

This Match which I have now been Witness to, is what I long have wish'd, your Course of Life must of Necessity be chang'd.

Ha, Sir James here!—Oh if you love me, my Lord let us avoid that Brute, you must not meet him.

Oh, there's no Danger, Madam.—My Lord, I wish you Joy with all my Heart; we only quarrell'd to make you Friends, Madam, ha, ha, ha.

What, am I trick'd into a Marriage then?

Not against your Will, I hope.

No, I forgive you; tho' had I been aware of it, it should have cost you a little more Pains.

I wish I could return thy Plot, and make this La­dy thine, Sir James.

Then I should be paid with Interest, my Lord.

My Fault is Consideration you know, I must think a little longer on't.

And my whole Study shall be to improve those Thoughts to my own Advantage.

I wish your Ladiship Joy, and hope I shall keep my Kickey to my self now.

With all my Heart Mr. Sago, she has had ill Luck of late, which I am sorry for.

My Lord Worthy will confine your Ladiship from Play as well as I, and my Injunction will be more casie when I have your Example.

Nay 'tis Time to throw up the Cards when the Games out.

Well, Sir James, the Danger's over, we have doub­led the Cape, and my Kinsman is Sailing directly to the Port.

A Boon Voyage.

'Tis done, and my Heart is at Ease.—Did you ever see such a perverse Baggage, look in his Face I say, and thank your Stars, for their best influences gave yon this Hus­band.

Will not Valeria look upon me? She us'd to be more Kind when we have sish'd for Eals in Vinegar.

My Lovely, is it thee? And has natural Sympathy for­born to inform my Sense thus long?

How! how! This Lovely? What does it [...] the Ensign I have so carefully avoided!

Yes, Sir, the same; I hope you may be brought to like a Land Soldier as well as a Seaman.

And, Captain, have you done this?

Yes, Faith, she was too whimsical for our Element; her hard Words might have Conjur'd up a Storm for ought I know—so I have set her ashore.

What, my Uncle deceiv'd with his Stock of Wisdom? Ha, ha, ha.

Here's such a Coupling, Mrs. Alpiew, han't you a Month's Mind?

Not to you I assure you.

I was but in Jest, Child, say nay when you're ask'd.

The principal Part of this Plot was mine, Sir Richard.

Wou'd 'twas in my Power to hang you for't.

And I have no Reason to doubt you should re­pent it, he is a Gentleman, tho' a younger Brother, he loves your Daughter, and she him, which has the best Face of Hap­piness in a married State; you like a Man of Honour, and he has as much as any one, that I assure you, Sir Richard.

Well, since what's past is past Recal I had as good be satisfied as not, therefore take her, and bless ye together.

So now each Man's Wish is Crown'd, but mine with double Joy.

Well said, Sir Richard, let's have a Bowl of Punch, and Drink to the Bridegroom's good Voyage to Night,—steady, steady, ha, ha.

I'll take a Glass with you Captain,—I reckon my self a Bridegroom too.

I doubt Kickey won't find him such.

Well,—poor Keckky's bound to good Be­haviour, or she had lost quite her Puddy's Favour.