SCENE I.

Enter Mrs. Lovejoy.

Mrs. Lov. Here do I follow and caress my Lady, in hopes to steal a Spark ’mongst her Admirers; I have five hundred Pounds in the fourteen per Cent, a Gentlewoman’s Fortune in past Ages, but now ’twon’t buy a Haberdasher of small Ware. Sir Harry offers me a genteel Settlement; Time was, when a kept Madam elbow’d the whole Drawing-Room; but now we have a virtuous Court agen, a Lord’s Mistress is almost as despicable as a Citizen’s Wife. Suppose I trick the Collonel into Marriage To bridle at a Review in Hyde-Park, have rich Plunder brought me from Flanders, and boast in Company how much my Husband ballances the Pow’r of Europe; but then comes Peace, and Half-pay, and the Brigadier’s Lady must condescend to dress Heads, make Mantoes, or vainly feed her Pride, by personating what she really was on the most renown’d Drury-Lane Theatre. Suppose I rail at the Government, and so trap the rich Major; but then he’s trapt in a Plot, some poor Lord begs his Estate, and I’m to live upon the mighty Comfort of having it again when the Pretender comes Or what if I wheedle in with Mr. Nick-nack To have a fine House in Billiter-Lane, prodigious great Dinners, and ready Cash for Play. And, faith, now-a-days, a rich Merchant’s Wife keeps as late Hours, Games as high, and makes as bulky a Figure as e’er a Dutchess in the two united Kingdoms.

Enter Sir Harry.

Sir Har. How kind this was, my dear, pretty Mrs. Lovejoy, to leave so much good Company to meet me here alone.

Mrs. Lov. How kind you are to your self Sir Harry, in harbouring so ridiculous a Notion.

Sir Har. Are you resolv’d then, Madam, to let this gay, this proper well-set Person o’ mine pine away like a green Sickness Girl, when I have so generously offer’d you two hundred Pound a Year, only to be a little whimsical with you.

Mrs. Lov. Two hundred a year! wou’d you make a Whore of me Sir Harry?

Sir Har. A Whore! have a care, Child, who you reflect upon, a Lady of two hundred a Year, a Whore; Whores are Creatures that wear Pattens and Straw-hats. I’d fain hear any body call a kept Mistress, Whore, while there’s Law to be had, if I were she, I’d make ’em severely pay for’t.

Mrs. Lov. But pray, Sir Harry, where’s the Difference between a common Woman, and one that’s kept; they have equally lost their Reputation, and no body of any Character will visit ’em.

Sir Har. Visit ’em! Ladies of different Orders shou’d converse amongst themselves, I know a Set of kept Mistresses that visit one another with all the Ceremony of Countesses, take place of one another according to the Degree of their Keepers, are call’d to one another’s Labours, and live in perfect Sister-hood like the Grand Seignor’s Seraglio; two of ’em indeed had a violent Quarrel t’other day, but ’twas only about State Affairs, one happening to be a Whig, and t’other a Tory.

Mrs. Lov. Good Sir Harry, what have you seen so loose in my Behaviour to attack me at this rate?

Sir Har. Why, look you, Child, do’st thee consider what an Income two hundred a Year is; some Country Gentlemen han’t more to make their Elder Sons Esquires, and raise Portions for eleven awkard Daughters. Besides, my Dear, thou art but a whiffling sort of a Pinnace, I have been proffer’d lovely, large, First Rate Ladies for half the Mony. There’s Winny Wag-tail in Channel Row, wou’d have left it to my Generosity; Mrs. Tippet the Furrier’s Wife in Walbrook wou’d have taken five hundred Pound down, and Sufan Sigh-fort the quaking Sempstress had n’t the Assurance to ask me above the rent of her Shop. I must tell you, Love, the Nation’s over stock’d with Women, I can have a hundred and fifty Furbuloe Scarf-makers for as many Silver Thimbles; and but last Long Vacation, a very considerable Pleader offer’d me his two Daughters for Six and Eight Pence a Night.

Mrs. Lov. Sir Harry, this Discourse suits not my Genius, I have a Fortune, tho’ not thousands enough to keep me from that odious thing you’d tempt me to; therefore if you pursue this Humour any farther, I must acquaint my Lady with it.

Sir Har. Why, then, Madam, do I most devoutly pray to Venus there, and each kind Creature here, that the Men may avoid you, as if you had n’t a Lure about you, that for madness you may turn Gam’ster, lose all your Fortune at Play, and then grow crooked for want of Mony to buy you a new Pair of Stayes. [Exit.

Mrs. Lov. Was ever any thing so impudent! he’s a charming Fellow tho’, and two hundred a Year is a charming Allowance too. But Virtue! Virtue! Oh! that I had liv’d in good King Some-body’s Days.

Enter Major Bramble.

Bra. Madam Lovejoy, your most humble Servant, here’s a Ring that was pawn’d to me for twenty Guineas by a Welch Knight, on his being chose High Sheriff o’the County, and the Mony not being paid in due time, it’s become forfeited; I therefore entreat the Favour of you to wear it.

Mrs. Lov. Your very humble Servant, Major, they are delicate Stones indeed; but what Service must I do you in return of so great a Compliment?

Bra. Only that, Madam, of being my Advocate to Lady Rodomont, whose Beauty I have long admir’d, and whose Estate I do profoundly reverence. [Aside.] Nor can I on a just survey of my Person and Parts find the least Obstacle, why her Inclinations shou’d n’t mount like mine, that without much Ceremony or foppish Courtship, we might unite Circumstances, and astonish the World at the Sight of a couple so prodigiously well pair’d.

Mrs. Lov. Were my Fortune, Major, equal to my Lady’s, my Judgment wou’d be as much admir’d in such a Choice as my Happiness wou’d be envy’d; but my Lady’s of so uncommon a cold Constitution so whimsically gay, and fond of new Diversions, she laughs at ev’ry serious Thought of Love.

Bra. Perhaps, Madam, my Lady never had an Offer worth her serious Notice, the Fops a course chatter and teaze the Women, but when great Statesmen condescend to Love, and while they Court, Affairs of State stand still; a Lady shou’d be proud of such an Offer; what Woman wou’d not think her self most highly honour’d to have an amorous Judge approach her with his Tipstaff.

Mrs. Lov. Ay, Major, to have the State stand still, as if a Woman were of mightier Moment wou’d sooth a Lady’s Pride, ’twou’d be so pretty to adjourn the Parliament when their Mistresses send for ’em to Picquet; and were my Lady sensible how vast an Honour you design her, she certainly wou’d own an equal Passion.

Bra. [Aside] I profess a very ingenious Woman, and cou’d I but be satisfy’d, she were entirely in the French Int’rest, I I wou’d prefer her to Madam Maintenon’s Cabinet Council, to consult about the next Invasion.

Enter Nicknack.

Nic. Oh! Mrs. Lovejoy, I have been hurry’d quite out of my Senses, three more Ships are sail’d in upon me this Morning; the Atlas Merchant Man, Captain Sunburnt Commander from the East Indies, the Dighton Gally from the musty Islands, and the Hankerchief Frigot from Smirna.

Mrs. Lov. Pray, Mr. Nicknack, when’s the Sale?

Nic. Now, now, Madam, and the fat India Women from all Parts o’the Town do croud and scold like a Parcel of Fish-Wives at a Mackrel-Boat Mrs. Trapes in Leadenhall Street is hawling away the Umbrellas for the walking Gentry, Mrs. Kanister in Hatton Garden, buys up all the course Bohee-Tea for the Holborn Ladies Breakfasts, and Mrs. Furnish at St. James’s has order’d Lots of Fans, and China, and India Pictures to be set by for her, ’till she can borrow Mony to pay for ’em. But, Madam, I ha’ brought you a couple of the prettiest Parrokeets, and the charming’st Monkey for my Lady that ever was seen; a Coster-monger’s Wife kiss’d it, burst into Tears, and said, ’Twas so like an only Child she had just bury’d. I thought the poor Woman wou’d ha’ swoon’d away.

Mrs. Lov. Thank you good Mr. Nicknack.

Nick. But, Madam, have you told my Lady, what a violent Inflammation I have about her?

Mrs. Lov. She’s now at Cards with the Collonel, and next to the new Monkey you’ll be the welcom’st Creature alive to her. Sweet Major excuse me, for I must run to my dear Parrokeets. [Exit.

Bra. Prithee, Friend, what Beau-maggot has thy Pericranium lately bred to give thee pretensions to Lady Rodomont?

Nick. And pray, Major; what prejudice have the Ladies done you, that you shou’d revenge it by offering ’em your disagreeable self? For he that murmus at so good a Queen, must certainly be disaffected to the whole Sex.

Bra. Do’st thou imagine a Woman of sense that has seen he great Court of France, and visited Madam de Trollop, Madam de Frippery, and Madam de Twangdillion, where Ladies are great Politicians, and talk of Ramparts, Bastions, and Aqueducts will prefer thy Parrots and Jack-daws to a Man of Politicks, whom the Prince of Conti consulted about the Kingdom of Poland. Monsieur Chamillard about the late Invasion.

Nick. I can’t suppose, Major, a Lady of her Intellects, will fling her self away on a Grumbletonian, to have her Estate confiscated, receive Visits in the Gate-house, when her Husband’s clapt up for Treason, and afterwards quarrel with the Heralds about the length of her Veil, when her Spouse made his Exit at Tyburn.

Bra. Why ha’st thou the assurance to despise Heroes that die in a State Cause, St. Charnock, and St. Gregg; these were Men that made a noise i’the World, whose Names are in ev’ry News Paper, and let the Cause be what it will, I honour People that make a noise in the World. But prithee, Mr. Nicknack, what makes you Citizens that spring from a little Counting-house, up three Steps at the further End of a dark Ware-house, attempt Women o’Quality?

Nick. Why, Sir, I can settle Threescore Thousand Pounds upon her.

Bra. Settle Threescore Thousand Pounds upon her; Wou’d you buy a Wife as you do Scamony and Cocheneal by Inch of Candle? If I were a Woman, I shou’d hate the sound of an Inch of Candle. I’ll settle Major Bramble upon her, an inestimable Jewel, and if she has no more sense than to refuse me; for a Chocolate-house, Jelley Eater, she has travell’d to as little improvement, as some other Beau Ladies, that admire the Agility of the French, before the Stability of the Swiss Cantons; therefore you may go tire her with your Monkey tricks, to give her a true relish of my more weighty Arguments. In the mean time, I’ll step to the Tow’r, to congratulate the safe Arrival of some very great Persons out of Scotland. [Exit.

Nick. Now has this old Fellow the vanity to think his Person and Qualities are as acceptable to a fine Woman as if he had been bred at Court; but Asses will herd and bray amongst the fair Kine, like a knot of Stock-jobbing Jews that crowd Garraways Coffee-house, and fright away us Beau Merchants with the stink of Bread and Cheese Snuff. [Exit.

SCENE Changes to Covent-Garden.

Enter Matter Totty, and Shrimp.

Tot. Lord! Lord! What a hugeous Place this London is? I thank you heartily, Sir, for taking Care of me; for I shou’d ha’ quite lost my self, and then, perhaps, some strange Person might ha’ taken me up, and ha’ kept me; but what makes People in such a hurry here, as if at Lincoln, the Mayor and Aldermen were going to a Bull-baiting; at other times Folks in the Country walk more slowly, as tho’ they were going to Church.

Shr. London, Master, is the Seat of Business, People do ev’ry thing in a hurry here, except paying their Debts, and lying with their Wives; but what Notion had you of the Town before you saw it?

Tot. Why, my Grand-mother says, Tis the wicked’st Place under the Copes of Heav’n, and the Filthinesses she has seen there, have made her frigid to Mankind; she says, young Fellows are greedy after young Wenches, and make a scoff at old Folks; Men of Quality have no sense of well-doing, and Women o’Quality no sense of Self-denial; your highflown Gentry, no sense of Humility, and the Common People no sense of good Manners; mid-night Collonels, no sense of Sobriety; Vintners no sense of Honesty; City Wives, no sense of Chastity, and their Husbands, no sense at all.

Shr. You are deceiv’d, Master, People come hither for Education and Improvement: Ev’ry Merchant’s Prentice now assumes an air of Wisdom, talks of Gaming, Dress, and Poetry; frequents the Hazard-Table at Lambeth, the Bowling-Green at Islington, and keeps a Race-Horse for Hackney-Marsh; has a Silver Watch double gilt, Pearl colour Silk Stockings, and a black Suit for Lent, with a couple of Drop-Locks hanging up in the Counting-house, which are occasionally hook’d on to a Spruce-Bob to Squire two Chamber-Maids to the Rival Queens.

Tot. But do People obey their Parents in London?

Shr. Never, never, Master, this is an Age of Freedom and good Humour; Fathers tope Claret with their Sons, and Mothers Rosa Solis with their Daughters; they Rake together, Intreague together, divide Estates, and persue their Inclinations; Familiarity makes young Fellows easie, and old Fellows have the happiness to live out all their Days.

Tot. O Gemini that’s pure! well I always had a mighty mind to see London, because my Grand-mother would never let me; and d’you belong to Sir Harry Sprightly, say you, Sir?

Shr. I do my self the Honour to sojourn with him; Sir Harry Compliments me with adjusting some Solecisms in his Dress; we were Neighbour’s Children in the Country, and always very fond of one another, he begg’d the Favour of me to meet you at the Inn, give you some refreshment, and conduct you to his Lodgings; Oh! Here comes a Friend o’mine lately return’d from Flanders, that will be glad to associate with us; he’s a Person of great Worth, I assure you, and might have had great Preferments in the Army; but his good Manners, like some other well-bred military Sparks, made him rather retreat than put himself forward.

Enter Knapsack.

Mr. Knapsack, your most humble Servant, an ingenious young Gentleman here, just arriv’d from the Fenns in Lincolnshire, desires to be known to you; he’s at present but a rough Diamond wholly ignorant of the Town, but your Conversation will make him Brillant.

Knap. You know my Profession, Mr. Shrimp, and think you can’t trespass on my modesty; but your praises are enough to put our whole Regiment out o’countenance, had we not quarter’d in Ireland. The young Gentleman by his deportment seems to be the Darling of a Family, and Heir to a good Estate.

Tot. I shall have Five Hundred a Year, Sir, when my Grand-mother gives up the Ghost; but at present she allows me but Eighteen Pence a Week for reading the Book of Martyrs to her, copying Receipts, and supporting her about the House.

Shr. Eighteen Pence a Week! Why the Kitchin Wench gets more for her Coney Skins; but what allowance are you to have now, Master, you should have handsome Lodgings in Pall-Mall Tutors to embellish you, dress out for Whites, keep a Chair by the Week, and an impudent Footman to knock down People before you.

Tot. Ay, but my Grand-mother charg’d me on her Blessing never to go to that end o’the Town; she says, they are abominable Spendthrifts there; bid me remember the Prodigal Son, and has given me only a broad Jacobus to pay for Post Letters, and a Hundred Pound Bill upon Sir Francis to put me Clerk to an Attorney.

Shr. Clerk to an Attorney! Why the Nation swarms with ’em; so many young Fellows now are bred to that Profession, Men, and their Wives are forc’d to go to Law to find bus’ness for their Children.

Knap. Hang the Hundred Pounds; we’ll spend it, Master, in showing you the Town, the Lyons, and the Tombs, the Bears, and the Morocco’s, the Jew’s Synagogue, and the Gyants at Guild-hall, my Lord-Mayor’s great Coach, and my Lady Mayoress’s great Tower.

Tot. Shan’t we go to the Play-house too, and see Pinkeman, Bullock, and Jubilee Dicky?

Knap. Ay, and behind the Scenes too amongst the pretty Actresses; I must have you a smart Youth, understand the finish’d Vices o’the Town, learn to swear like a Gentleman of Ten Thousand a Year, few Men of Estates are bred to Conversation, game like a desp’rate younger Brother, several embroider’d Suits are known to live by’t, drink abundantly to prevent dull-thinking, and Whore lustily to encourage the Dispensary that gives the poor Physick for nothing. Mr. Shrimp here knows the World; and, I warrant, for cogging a Die, bullying a Coward, bilking a Hackney Coachman, and storming a Nest of Whores in Drury-lane, not a Master of Arts in either University can come near him.

Tot. Fegs, so I will, they shan’t think to cow me any longer; one cou’d never stir out o’the Room, but my Grand-mother was purring after a Body, and if she heard one got a little merry at T. Totum, with the Maids, she’d quaver out Totty, come, and say your Catechism; What is the chief End of Man? And upon ev’ry little Fault, she’d lock me up to get Quarles’s Emblems by heart, and threaten I shou’d lie in the great Room that’s haunted, and never let one have any other diversion, than to hear the Chaplain play Jumping Joan upon the Base Viol.

Shr. Shall we adjourn to the Rose, the Drawer’s my particular Friend, and will give us French Wine for Eighteen Pence a Bottle.

Tot. But lets ha’ some Sack, do.

Knap. Ay, and Sugar, my brave Boy, thou shall’t have any thing; we’ll be merry as mony’d Sailors over a Bowl o’Rum Punch, fluster’d as their Whores, and frolicksom, ’till we have spent all, drink Confusion to all Grand-mothers, and if the old Cat pretends to Ptysick it much longer, we’ll get an Act of Parliament to poyson her.

Tot. With all my Heart! they say the Parliament can do any thing. [Exeunt.

SCENE, A Drawing-Room.

Enter the Collonel, and Lady Rodomont rising from Play.

L. Rod. Fling up the Cards, good Collonel, after two Games, the Pleasure becomes a Business; like my Lady Shuffler that gits her living at ’em.

Col. Your Ladyship’s a Chymist in Diversions, extracts the quintessence of ev’ry Pleasure, and leaves the drossy Part upon the World; Agreements, when too tedious pall the Fancy, when short they quicken and refine our Appetites; and the sublimest Joy to Mortals known, evaporates the Moment that ’tis tasted.

L. Rod. Variety alone supports dull Life, the light Amusements that connect and change, Spur on the creeping Circle of the Year; I love to humour an unbounded Genius, to give a lose to ev’ry spring of Fancy, to rove, to range, to sport with different Countries, and share the Revels of the Universe.

Col. My Genius fain wou’d Court superiour Blessings; those Passions are too hurrying to last; Vapours that start from a Mercurial Brain, whose wild Chimera’s flush the lighter Faculties, which tir’d i’th’vain pursuit of fancy’d Pleasures; a Passion more substantial Courts our Reason, solid, persuasive, elegant, sublime, where ev’ry Sense crowds to the luscious Banquet, and ev’ry nobler Faculty’s imploy’d.

L. Rod. That Passion you describe’s a sleeping Potion, a lazy, stupid, lethargy of Mind, that nums our Faculties, destroys our Reason, and to our Sex the bane of all Agreements; shou’d I whom Fortune, lavish of her store, has given the means to glut insatiate Wishes, out-vie my Sex, and Lord it o’er Mankind, constrain my rambling Pleasures, check my Liberty for an insipid Cooing sort of Life, which marry’d Fools think Heav’n, and cheat each other.

Col. Are Love and Pleasure, Madam, so incongruous? Methinks the very name of Love exhilerates; meaner delights were meant but to persuade us, Toys to provoke and heighten our desires, which Love confirms and Crowns with mightier extasie.

L. Rod. Rather all Joys expire, where Love commences; when that deluding Passion once takes root, we grow insensible, ill-bred, intolerable, neglecting Dress and Air, and Conversation; to fondle an odd Wretch, that caus’d our ruin: No, give me the outward Gallantries of Love, the Poetry, the Balls, the Serenades, where I may Laugh and Toy, and humour Apish Cringers, with secret Pride to raise my Sexes Envy, and lead pretending Fops a Faiery Dance.

Col. My own Humour to a Hair! How I admire such generous sprightly Virtue, your Reasoning, Madam, darts amazing brightness, ’where groveling Souls want courage to think freely, ay, Liberty’s the Source of all Enjoyments, a nourishing Delight, innate and durable. I love the Harmony of Foreign Courts; your downright English Women are meer Mopes, sit dumb like Clocks that speak but once an Hour, supinely Grave and insolently Sullen, nor Smile but on good terms to Laugh, at us for Life: But other Climates animate more warmly; Sexes alike are free, reciprocally gay, and Pleasures are persu’d without Reflection, if Principle or Fear refuse us Love; for I’m the tenderest of a Lady’s Honour, the Fair One still has tantalizing Charms, her tuneful Voice, her graceful, easie Movement, her lively Converse, happy turn of Thought, Language polite, keen Wit, fineness of Argument, but Marriage turns the Edge of all Society.

L. Rod. Pray, Collonel, how long have you taken up this Resolution?

Col. I doat upon the Sex, admire their heav’nly Form, like beauteous Temples built by sacred Hands, where their bright Souls as Deities inhabit; but shou’d Love’s Queen, Celestial Citharea, descend in all her elegance of Beauty, the studyd Care of the officious Graces, with Wreaths of Jewels glittering round her Temples, her flowing Locks disposd in artful Circles, losely attird, and on a Down of Roses, with laughing Cupids hovring round the Bed.

L. Rod. But Collonel.

Col A wondrous lovely Mien, kind melting Airs, soft snowy Breasts that pant with am’rous Sighs, Eyes lauguishing that steal forth welcome glances; Cheeks rip’ning, glowing, kindling, ravishing.

To be confin’d, wou’d deaden all her Charms,
And Matrimony fright me from her Arms.

L. Rod. Good Collonel check a while this feign’d Career; for in describing her you wou’d refuse, you’re in a Rapture, and quite out of Breath; don’t depend too much on your fancy’d Prowess, some mortal Dames, less beauteous than a Goddess, have exercis’d and tam’d the boldest Heroes.

Enter Mrs. Lovejoy.

Mrs. Lov. Madam, the Countess of Circumference, my Lady May-pole, and my Lady Bob-tail are just lighting at the Gate.

L. Rod. Pray sup with me Collonel, and lets finish this Argument, I’m fond of disputing with a Person that talks well.

Col. [aside ] She’s peek’d, and my design must prove successful.

Pride keeps me off, but Nature smooths my way;
For what her Tongue wou’d hide, her Eyes betray.

[Exit.

L. Rod. Cozen, did you ever hear the like? The Collonel’s such an
Enemy to Marriage?

Mrs. Lov. An Enemy to Marriage, Madam!

L. Rod. As obstinately bent against it, as if he were incapable of Love; not that his Principles concern me, yet such Heresy in Men shou’d be subdu’d.

Mrs. Lov. Perhaps, Madam, the Collonel may have had some strange misfortune in the Army, Cannon Bullets fly at such an ugly random rate.

L. Rod. Ha, ha, ha, how I laugh at such thin Disguises, as if a ratling Officer in this fortune-hunting Age, cou’d have Philosophy to slight my Person and Estate; but I’ll applaud his happy choice of Liberty; say, ’tis a generous Thought, so like my self, I’ll settle a Platonick Friendship with him, then faulter in my Speech, and seem confus’d, as if my Sexes weakness must discover a Passion which my haughty Soul wou’d hide. The greedy Collonel catches at the Bait, deep Sighs, and sheepish Looks confess the Lover; then with what sparkling Pride I’ll boast my Power, bravely assert my wonted Resolutions, rally the blustering Héroe, and pursue new Conquests.

As the Sun’s early Beams attract and warm, So Ladies with their easie glances Charm; Vain Coxcombs cringe with transport and surprize, Feel kindling Fire, and feed upon their Eyes; ’Till like the Sun, the dazling Nymphs display Meridian heat, and scorch the Fools away.