The fool turn'd critick a comedy : as it was acted at the Theatre-Royall, by His Majesties servants / by T.D. ...

Scene I. Covent-Garden.

Enter Bernard.

Ber.

TO be in Love, is to be mad, and live a phrase, That rarely sits my present disposition; for Certainly if I had sense; or any reason left, I should have kept my self free, at least from Love, The plague of all mankind. Sure the Devil, when Providence first Quicken'd men with life, mingled this amorous Poyson with their blood, as a continual torment.

Enter Frank Amorous.

Frank.

Dear Frank!—what return'd already? Well! and how go matters? ha! didst speak to her?

Frank.

Yes, I did speak to her, and thanks to my good Tongue, And fluent Rhetorick, a great deal, a great deal To the purpose—hark,—thy business is done,— She's thine, she's thine Rogue.

Ber.

But art thou in earnest? prithee do not flatter me▪ For to fall from these hopes to which thou hast rais'd me, Would be a horrid Torture.

Frank.

Peruse this Paper, and then credit me; 'tis her own Handy-work: Sir, I assure you I could have had A Token for you, a Ring, or a slight Bracelet From her Arm; but that I thought 't was needless.

Ber.

A Letter, and from her? I am transported! My best of Friends! how am I bound to thee? I almost fear to read what's Writ within, least The Excess of my delight should kill me. But I must venture.

Frank.

I prithee come, let's hear it.

Ber.

reads,

I have such a sensible knowledge of your sufferings, That I would willingly, if it could be without prejudice of my Honour, redress e'm; But Mr. Amorous can certifie you; to whom you are infinitely oblig'd for his fidelity.

Frank.

D'e mark that Bernard?

Ber.

reads,

That 'tis not mine, but my Fathers will, that debars your coming; which also can be affirmed by your worthy Friend, sweet Mr. Amorous.

Frank.

Ha! this is more then I expected, well go thy Ways, thou art a kind hearted little Rogue, I'le say that for thee.

Ber.

reads.

But from henceforth I desire you to have patience, and pray for an alteration, and forget not to be grateful to the deserving and noble Mr. Amorous. Your Friend Penelope.

Frank.

Very well! do'st hear What a commendable Character she gives me?

Ber.

I do Sir,—a thousand suspicions gnaw my heart.

reads agen.

Can be affirm'd by your worthy Friend sweet Mr. Amorous,— 'dsdeath, she loves him, 'tis plain—

reads still.

(Still more!) her phrase is passionate, oh dull! Dull Fool! to trust him with a secret to undo thee.

Frank.

Come, prithee what art thou musing on? Methinks this should make thee leap for joy; Sing Catches, Frisk, and know no Earth to tread on: What a Devil ayl'st thou?

Ber.

Nothing Sir, nothing, only a sudden Melancholly.

Frank.

Melancholly, Apox upon't, laugh it away man; Think on thy Mistriss; thou seest I've done thy business.

Ber.

Ha!—

Frank.

Ha! why dost thou stare on me?

Ber.

The business!

Frank.

I the next visit shall finish it.

Ber.

Dares he upbraid me? Sir, you shall answer this.

Frank.

Answer that—d'slight he's jealous; I find it now, and now I consider on my past proceedings, it may be he has cause; he•• commendations in her Letter were somewhat more then Ordinary: She addrest her self to him, but her praises were for me. ('Tis so) what a damn'd dull Rogue was I not to receive it? I'le go visit her straight, and if I find her true, Friend I shall not fear to answer your demand, though with the hazard of my Life and Fortune.

Exeunt.