SCENE, The Park.

Sir Harry_, and the_ Collonel.

Col. Never a loose Lady tripping through the Park to whet one’s Appetite this Morning?

Sir Har. Fie, Collonel, refine your Tast; A common Woman! I’d as soon dine at a common Ordinary: Give me a Woman of Condition, there’s Pride as well as Pleasure in such an Amour.

Col. Your Women of Condition, Pox on em, are like Noblemen’s Dinners, all Garniture and no Meat, then, the Ceremony of Approach and Retire, palls a Man’s Inclination, ‘till he grows indifferent i’ the Matter; Wou’d you Charm me, give me a ruddy Country Wench to riffe on the Grass, with no other resistance than, What a Dickens, is the Man berwattl’d, you are an impudent, bold Rogue, and I’ll call my Mother: Besides, the fear of Scandal makes your great Ladies preserve a foolish kind of Virtue, their Principles wou’d fain get rid of.

Sir Har. You are deceiv’d, Collonel, Women of Quality are above Reputation. Is it my Lady Tipple-dram’s Modesty, or the effect of Ratifia, that gives her a high Colour in the Drawing-room? Is my Lady Sluggard’s Religion question’d, that has never been at Church since her Baptism, or my Lady Gamesom’s Virtue suspected for admiring Collonel Sturdy’s Regiment; both Sexes of Rank, now, use what Liberty they please without censuring one another, and consequently despise the tattling of Inferiours.

Col. Ha! what pert Fellow’s this, that whisks it along in a Silk-Drugget Suit, with the empty Air of a Fop Mercer, or a Judge’s Train-bearer?

Sir Har. Oh! ’Tis young Nicknack, a Beau Merchant, his Father dy’d lately, and left him considerably in Money, he has been bred to business, with a Liberty of Pleasure, a little vain and affected as most young Fellows are; but his Foppery is rather pretty and diverting than tiresome and impertinent. For his Father obliging him still to live in the City, and follow Business, he has turn’d Commerce into a Jest, and calls himself, The Ladies Merchant; for he imports nothing but Squirrels, Lap-dogs and Guinea piggs to insnare the Women.

Enter Nicknack.

Nick. Dear Sir Harry, I have been twice round the Park, in search of you.

Sir Har. Mr. Nicknack pray know the Collonel here; an intimate Friend o’mine just arriv’d from Flanders.

Nick. Sir, I kiss your Hands, I am glad to find for the Ladies sake, as well as your own, you are not the least disabl’d I wou’d give Ten Guineas, Collonel, to see an Engagement, cou’d one be secure from a Cannon Bullet.

Col. Ten Guineas to see an Engagement; wou’d you make a show of Desolation, and have Men kill one another to divert your Spleen? What shou’d any one do i’the Field, that’s afraid of a Cannon Bullet?

Nic. ’Tis not impossible, Sir, in a whole Army, to find a Person as little dispos’d to swallow a Cannon Bullet as my self; but I shou’d have this preference to him, as I wou’d avoid fighting, I wou’d ask no Pay.

Col. Ha! Wit out of Cheapside, I’m afraid City Credit’s at a very low Ebb.

Nick. Your Pardon, Collonel. Sir Harry, have you seen Lady Rodomont this Morning? I have News for her will make her Heart caper, as mine did at the Death of my Father. The Bawble Friggat, Captain Gewgaw Commander, is just arriv’d laden with Parrots, Parrotkeits, Monkeys, Mamosets, Leopards, Lowries, Muscovy-Ducks, German-Geese, Danish-Dormice, Portugal-Pigs, Hannover-Hens, and all the Rarities imaginable.

Sir Har. You are a happy Man, Mr. Nicknack, that have such new ways to ingage the Ladies; if you succeed in your Addresses to Lady Rodomont, from your good Fortune, all the Beaus will turn Traders, and instead of Treats, Balls, and Serenades, we shall have Post Nights, Polices of Insurance, Factors, Agents, and Correspondents to import Niceties for their Mistresses.

Col. [aside] Ridiculous; And d’you think a Lady of her Birth and Estate wou’d Marry a City Merchant.

Nick. A City Merchant, Collonel, We have Creatures, indeed, that deal in Herrings from Holland, and Cod from Newfoundland; but there are degrees in Merchandizing as well as other Professions. An Officer o’the Guards is above a Captain o’the Train Bands; and, I hope, there’s difference between a Gentleman that Trades to the Indies, and Merchant Rag that sends old Cloaths to Jamaica; but why, Collonel, shou’d the City be so much despis’d, that has so near an affinity to the Court; we have sense to distinguish Men and Manners, Breeding to pay a Valiant Prince homage, that ev’ry Year triumphs for his Country, and generosity to entertain him, where many a hungry Courtier has been glad to sneak in for a Dinner.

Col. [aside] The Fellow talks Reason, i’faith; but prithee, Mr. Nicknack, what Business can a Merchant have at this end o’the Town; for a Man that’s bred up in a Counting-House to pretend to Airs and Graces, is as monstrously ridiculous, as a Play-House Orange-Wench with a Gold Watch by her side.

Nick. Pardon me there Collonel; are Pleasure and Business inconsistent, must ev’ry Citizen be a Drone, that crawls among Furr Gowns, or a Cuckold that’s preferr’d by the Common-Hall; pray tell me, what difference is there between a Merchant of a good Education, and a Gentleman of Two Thousand Pounds a Year, only one has Threescore Thousand Pounds clear in his Pocket, and t’other an Estate that’s mortgag’d to Threescore People; I have a House in Billiter-Lane, the Air’s as good as Pickadilly. Cornish makes my Cloaths, Chevalier my Periwigs, I’m courted ev’ry Day to subscribe for singing Opera’s, and have had Fifteen Actresses at my Levee, with their Benefit-Tickets.

Sir Har. But, methinks, Mr. Nicknack; you that have so plentiful a Fortune, shou’d leave off Business, and reside wholly amongst Men of Figure and Estates.

Nick. My Commerce, Sir Harry, is but in Impertinences without the least prospect of Gain; for the old Gentleman, when with great Industry, he had imported an Estate of Fifty Thousand Pounds, with greater Civility exported himself into the next World and left me all. Besides, Merchandize is but a sort of Gaming, and if I like it better than Hazard or Basset, why should any Man quarrel with my Genius; but, Gentlemen, your Servant. I must find out Lady Rodomont; for I have ingros’d the whole Ship’s Cargo to my self, as my Father us’d to do Raw-Silk, and design her the first choice of ev’ry Thing. [Exit.

Col. But what crabbed Don’s this with the knavish Look of an old plodding Conveyancer, whose Face and Profession are enough to raise the Devil.

Sir Har. ’Tis Major Bramble, a factious, seditious old Rogue, that’s neither Whig, nor Tory, but an Enemy to his own Country; he hates the Government, because the Government don’t like him; repines at all our Successes; and his Bosom Friends are Minters, Owlers, Pettifoggers, Nonjurors that won’t swear to the Government, and Irish Evidences that will swear to any thing.

Enter Major Bramble.

Heav’n guard the Court! What cursed Plot’s now hatching, that brings the grumbling Major to the Park?

Bram. The Government, Sir Harry, will ne’er suspect my policy at plotting, when I have no more sense than to trust a Wit with it; but the Company I keep, may with wondrous ease form a Plot past your finding out.

Sir Har. What, cowardly Bullies, tatter’d Gam’sters, and Fellows that have been twice transported, poor, unhappy scoundrels that disturb the Nation to please you rich Male-Contents, and are hang’d for their reward.

Bram. Those Gentlemen, Sir Harry, you’re pleas’d to term scoundrels, I honour; he that takes sanctuary in the Fleet, has an immediate place in my Heart; the Heroes of the Mint are a formidable Body, magnanimously sowse ev’ry Fellow in a Ditch that dares to infringe their Liberties; he that’s committed to Newgate is in a fair way to Immortality; He that stands in the Pillory is exalted to a very high Station; the Observator is my very good Friend; and he that writes the Review a Person of a most incomparable Assurance.

Col. But where’s the Satisfaction of admiring what’s Rascally?

Bram. You’re mistaken, Sir, Virtue’s oppress’d; these are the only Men of worth i’the Nation, and since the World’s compos’d chiefly of Knaves and Hypocrites, it behoves ev’ry honest Fellow to over-reach the World; therefore he that runs away from his Creditors is a Man of admirable Principles, and his Creditors are very great Rogues.

Col. But why d’you hate the Government, Major, what harm has that done you.

Bram. Why, Sir, I was formerly in a very good Office, was turn’d out for Bribery, and have had none giv’n me since, therefore while the Government takes no notice of me, I’ll take no notice of the Government.

Sir Har. You are a Person, Major, the Government ought to take notice of, I assure you And d’you think a Man of your Character and Conversation qualify’d for a publick Post.

Bram. Certainly, Sir Harry, who makes a better Soldier than a Midnight-Scourer; who proves a sharper Judge than a Serjeant that takes Fees on both sides; or who thumps the Cushion better than he that has thumpt all the Wives i’the Parish; therefore that am acquainted with all you call Rogues i’the Kingdom, think my self notably qualify’d for a Custom-House-Officer but whether the Government employs us, or not, my Companions are the happiest People i’the World; we meet ev’ry Day at a House within the Rules of the Fleet, where we have fat Venison, that’s Stole out of Windsor-Park; French Wine, that’s Run i’the Wild o’ Kent; drink Confusion to our Arms, and talk Treason, till the Vintner crys, Huzza, Drawer bring in my Bottle. And there are of our Club, Four Broken-Officers, Six Suborning-Attorneys, a Disaffected-Cobler, Two Highway-Men, and Eleven Jacobite, Outlaw’d-Parsons.

Sir Har. If you are such an Enemy to your native Country, why don’t you course the World, and please your self.

Bram. Thank you, Sir Harry, but tho’ things don’t go as I’d have them, of all Countries, I like England the best, for ’tis the only Kingdom in the World that suffers Faction; where one may write Libels, affront the Ministry, deride the Laws, and set the whole Nation together by the Ears but whilst I am idle, mighty Matters are at a stand; in short, my Business here is to make my Addresses to Lady Rodomont, who having lately seen Italy and France, like a true Woman, is return’d with a most horrid Contempt of her own Country, and may like my Principles better than the flutt’ring Airs of you Town-Sparks afterwards, Gentlemen, I shall be proud of both your Companies to dine in the Press-Yard, in Newgate, with sev’ral very ingenious Persons, that coin better than they do i’the Tower. [Exit.

Col. So, Lady Rodomont’s the Cry How Divine a Creature is a Woman that has Six thousand a Year; the Town’s quite mad after her.

Sir Har. And such an Estates enough to make her mad; Women are too sanguine for such mighty Fortune; Ten thousand Pounds touches a Ladys Brain, but when they prove great Heiresses, theyre

Col. Oh! stark Staring, Raving! and we ought to have the Custody of em.

Sir Har. Let’s move towards the Court, Collonel, where we shall meet her sailing down the Mall, and the Fops after her, with all the Pride of a First-Rate Man of War, that’s convoying a few petty Merchant-Ships to the West-Indies.

Enter Shrimp with a Letter.

Sir Har. [reads.] By the next return of the Waggon you will receive Master Totty, who was nineteen Years last Grass, with a Box of Shrewsbury-Cakes, and a Simnel: His Grand-Mother desires you will put him Clerk to some honest Attorney, if it be possible to find one, and the Child be fit for it, or to what else the Child shall be fit for; but if you find him fit for nothing, that you’ll return him with great Care to his Grand-Mother again. He is free from ev’ry Vice, having always lain with his Grand-Mother, gone no where but to visit old Ladies with his Grand-Mother, and has never been out of his Grand-Mother’s sight, since he was six Weeks old What a Pox do the Women send me their Fool to educate, they may as well send me their Heads to dress; but I shall leave him to my Servant; a Town Valets Tutor and Companion good enough for a Country Squire Shrimp, go to the Saracen’s-Head-Inn, enquire for Master Totty, a Man-Child, of nineteen Years of Age, and carry him to my Lodgings. [Exeunt.

Enter Lady Toss-up, and Mrs. Flimsy.

La. Toss. Lord, Flimsy! was there ever an Assurance like my Lady Rodomont’s, to engross all the Fellows to her self.

Flim. For that matter, Madam, I cou’d dispence with ’em all, and as many more; but a Lady that declares against Marriage, to suffer such a Train of Beaus, shews her self superlatively Vain-glorious.

La. Toss. A vertuous Woman, that declares against Marriage, may as well declare against Eating and Drinking; all Women have Inclinations to Love; besides, Flimsy, Marriage is an Ordinance, and to declare against it, I take to be a very wicked thing; but if she has made a Vow of Chastity, she might release her Admirers to those Ladies that are willing the World shou’d continue peopl’d. My Lady Love-gang swears she’ll go live in Scotland about it; my Lady Dandler lays it so to Heart, I’m afraid she’ll be silly; for my part, I bear it not so patiently as Folks think.

Flim. They say, Madam, she has depriv’d you of some particular Lovers; I’d arrest her for ’em.

La. Toss. Sir Harry Sprightly I have danc’d with; Brigadier Blenheim too has handed me out of the Box, but when Lady Rodomont arriv’d, they both flew from me like a parcel of Fortune-hunters from a reputed City-Heiress, when her Father breaks, and can give her nothing.

Flim. Here she comes, surrounded with Beaus, and I warrant, thinks her self as good as the Queen; if I were the Queen, I’d have her taken up for thinking so. Pray Madam affront her.

Enter Lady Rodomont, and Mrs. Lovejoy, follow’d by Sir Harry,
Collonel Blenheim, Mr. Nicknack, Major Bramble, several Fops
and Footmen.

La. Rod. Dear Messieurs! give me Breath: Not but a Croud of Beaus are very acceptable; but to press upon one too hard, is like a new Monarch just seated on the Throne, that’s stifl’d with Court Cringes Don’t you think, Sir Harry, the Italians that approach us at more distance, show greater Veneration and Respect.

Sir Har. Ladies in their High-Noon of labour’d Garniture,
Are pleas’d, when we admire ’em like the Sun,
Whom none directly looks at,
But in the Ev’ning, as the Sun goes down,
They’re better pleas’d we shou’d approach ’em nearer.

La. Rod. O you malicious Creature! That Censure’s from the Freedoms of the French: A Traveller shou’d humour Countries, Customs; in Spain, a modest Woman hides her Face; in France we shift our selves before our Valets; nay, shou’d much greater Freedoms there be practis’d, none but an English Clown suspects our Vertue Collonel, you’re welcome to England; you have distinguish’d your self nobly this Campaign; I hear at Audenard you acted Wonders.

Col. Madam, When Kings command their Subjects to the Field,
The Swords our Calling, and we fight for pay,
And lengthen out a War to raise Estates;
But when a Queen, whose matchless Virtue fires us,
And whose obliging Goodness courts our Valour,
We march with Pride, and unresisted Force,
To spread the Empire of so bright a Mistress.

La. Rod. I find, Collonel, an English Officer may be perfectly well-bred, but I attribute it to your success in War; you have taken most of the French Officers Prisoners, whose Conversation has refin’d your Manners.

Col. ’Tis granted, Madam, their Conversation’s wondrous Degaugee we’ll take ’em to refine us ev’ry Year.

La. Rod. Sir Harry, what Diversions are a-foot; but England is so phlegmatick a Climate, no Carnivals, nor Midnight-Masquerades, but Two and fifty Days lost ev’ry Year for want of Balls and Operas on a Sunday.

Sir Har. Our Nation, Madam’s so far gone in Parties,
That Faction’s even carry’d to Diversions,
One Party strives for Sense, and t’other Sound;
The Major here, I think opposes both.

Bram. So I do What signifies a Comedy of Fools; han’t we the Courts of Westminster to divert us; and your Tragedies, where Kings and Emperors are murder’d; in a quarter of an Hour after they are at Buxton’s Coffee-House, playing at All-Fours; then your Singing-Op’ras, I hate your Italian Squaling, like a Woman in Labour; and ’fore-gad, Madam, ’tis a most miraculous thing to me, that a Lady of your Experience, who has travers’d the World, and ought to know Nature in a wonderful Perfection, shou’d admire an Eunuch.

La. Rod. You shou’d have liv’d in former Ages, Major, when odious Tilts and Tournaments were in Vogue; our Pleasures are too curious for your Taste, I fancy the Bear-Garden suits your Genius mightily.

Bram. Ay, Madam, there’s Celestial Sport and Pastime; the Musick of the Dogs, the Harmony o’ the Butchers, to see, a Mastiff tear a Bull by the Throat, the Bull once wounded, goring o’er the Ground, cants a fat Woman higher than the Monument I love Reality in my Diversions; but at a Play-House I never laugh’d but once, and that was at a most agreeable Noise the Footmen made in the Upper-Gall’ry.

La. Rod. Savage Creature!

Nick. Your brutish Temper, Major, wou’d make one fancy you were born in Greenland, and suckl’d by a Wolf.

Bram. Better be suckl’d in Greenland than in Essex; a Wolf’s a nobler Creature than a Calf; for now young Fellows are so nicely bred, so fondl’d, and so furbelow’d with Follies, they scarce retain the Species of a Man; for my part, I have Magick in my Looks, I have frighted a High-Priest into Quakerism; converted a Jew to no Religion at all, and possess’d Squire Lacy with a Spirit of Prophetick Lying; I can turn a Justice of Peace into a Jack-Daw, a Citizen into any tame kind of Beast, and an old fadling Judge into a fidgetting Dry-Nurse But I find, Madam, you are got into a Beau-Chat, where my rough Language is as disagreeable, as martial Musick at White’s Chocolate-House; tho’, were I a Lady of a great Estate, I’d show as great Sagacity in despising the Fops, and think my Fortune prodigiously repaid in the Affections of so renown’d a Person as Major-Bramble. [Exit.

All. Ha, ha, ha.

La. Rod. Oh Mr. Nicknack! I hear the Bauble-Frigot’s in the River,
I’m on Tip-toes to see what’s imported: Are the Catalogues out yet?

Nick. Your Ladyship is set down for the whole Cargo, to select where you please, tho’ the Ladies teize me as much for new Fancies, as your good for nothing Actresses do a Poet for Parts, at the disposal of a new Comedy; and I protest Madam, I find it as difficult to get Goods fast enough, as a Woman that Lies in ev’ry Year does to get God-fathers.

La. Rod. Pray, Mr. Nicknack, what Demands have the Ladies made on you.

Nick My Lady Swine-love has bespoke a Dozen of Bermudas Pigs; my Lady Noisy a screaming Parrot; my Lady Squelch a Dutch Mastiff; my Lady Hoyden-tail a Cat o’ Mountain; Mrs. Tireman a large Baboon, and Mrs. Lick-it an Italian Greyhound.

La. Rod. You have an infallible Snare for our Sex; but I wonder, Mr. Nicknack, how so refin’d a Merchant as you, can endure the smoaky Coffee-Houses, and the dirty Exchange.

Nick. Madam, I use Robin’s, as nice a Coffee-House as Tom’s, where no Smoaking’s allow’d, but a little Betony or Colt’s-foot to a few Hundred thousand Pound Men; as for the Change, I must own, Dutch-Shapes, and Jew-Faces are not so agreeable to look at, as the Beauties at Hampton-Court; and I wonder the better sort of Merchants don’t walk above Stairs, that in a dead time o’ Business, when we have little to employ our Thoughts, we may divert our Opticks with the pretty Sempstresses.

Sir Har. When Business is at an ebb, what occasion have you to be there.

Nick. Only the Hopes of bubling you Beau-Baronets, that come thither to show your Equipage, and laugh at Men of Business, where we invite you to Dinner at Pontack’s, drink heartily about, and then draw you in for a thousand Guineas on some publick Wager, Tho’ really the greatest Misfortune that attends a Merchant is an indispensable Necessity of being ev’ry Day at Change; for shou’d the least Ill-news happen, and a Merchant absent, whip, they protest his Bills, report he’s in Holland, when, poor Soul, he’s gone no farther than to the Saturday’s Club at Black-heath Bowling-Green.

L. Rod. I think you have Travell’d tho’, Mr. Nicknack.

Nick. To Leghorne and Smirna, Madam, instead of France and Italy, where I had like to have had a Scimiter in my Guts, by an impotent old Turk, that spy’d me glancing at his Wife, when he had a hundred and fifty besides, and was past the use of one of ’em.

Col. Were you never at Virginia and Barbadoes?

Nick. Virginia and Barbadoes, Collonel, I never did any thing to deserve Transportation; perhaps, when the War’s over, some of your Livery that have been us’d to Plundering abroad, and can’t leave it off here, may after a Ride or two to Finchly Common have occasion to visit the Plantations. I own I have Correspondents at Barbadoes, now and then, to import a little Citron Water for Ladies that have a Coldness at their Stomach, and a Parcel of Oroonoko Tobacco, to oblige some West Country Countesses.

L. Rod. Is not that my Lady Toss-up? I shou’d hardly have known her, but by her down-right English Air why no body minds her Sir Harry, give the Lady a Pinch of sweet Snuff. [Aside.] She’s horridly concern’d at my Attractions, yet too proud to shew it, and looks as disconsolately gay, as a Maid of Thirty at the Wedding of her youngest Sister; how I love to mortify these Creatures.

L. Toss. [Advancing to Lady Rodomont] I find, Madam, by your
Ladyship’s
Appearance and Conversation you have been a very great Traveller.

L. Rod. By your Ladyship’s Appearance, I find you’re a very great
Stranger both to Conversation, and your own Country.

L. Toss. Is Travel, Madam, essential to a Lady’s Education, or does it only serve to heigthen her Assurance?

L. Rot. Some Ladies, Madam, are so plentifully stock’d by Nature, they want neither Art nor Travel to improve it.

L. Toss. Tis much then your Ladyship shou’d encourage Art or Travel, where Nature has bestow’d the largest Share, but I wonder not a Lady shou’d be so studious to accomplish her self who so fondly permits a Crowd of Followers.

L. Rod. A Lady, Madam, is seldom concern’d at another’s Followers, but when she laments the loss of ’em her self, and if the Fops that flutter about me, give you any Disorder, I can easily resign ’em to your Ladyship.

L. Toss. By no means, Madam, that wou’d be to rob your Ladyship’s Cozen, there, who is equally entitul’d to your Cast off Lovers, and your old Cloths.

Mrs. Lov. Her Ladyship’s Cozen, Madam, wou’d no more accept of any Lady’s old Cloths, than of your Ladyship’s Face.

L. Toss. Nay, Madam, if her Ladyship’s a’ground, your Face may put both Sexes out o’Countenance. [Exeunt Lady Toss-up, and Mrs. Flimsy.

L. Rod. Tho’ minor Beauties at a Venus rave,
Spight her the more, the more her Charms inslave;
As ’mongst the Stars the Moon maintains her Place,
She Bridles in her Air, and Triumphs in her Face.