The woman-captain a comedy acted by His Royal Highnesses servants / written by Tho. Shadwell.

ACT. III.

Enter Mr. Gripe.

Gripe.

SO! I have laid up their Provisions, and shall make Money of 'em, as I intend to do of my beating I have had, and the Riot they have committed; I have taken order my drunken Rogue shall be apprehended. But now to my Wife! per•…•…idious Jade! I shall keep her Prisoner during life, for all her Hectorly Brother—

[Exit Gripe.

Rich.

within. I think this disguise will fright him, and secure me from a good substantial beating into the bargain: If I can get once out of the Chamber—I am sure I will face him down I ne'r was in it—

Enter Gripe with a Candle.

Gripe.

Here! where is this vile 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of Woman-kind? Dost thou hide thy self—hah! Mercy upon me! who's here, the Devil! the Devil!—

[He runs roaring out, the Candle falls.

Rich.

I thought my Face was pretty well before; but I see I could make it uglier; Art may improve Nature much. Now will I shift for my self—

[Exit.

Gripe.

Help, help! the Devil! the Devil!

Richard Re-enters in his own Habit.

Rich.

What's the matter Sir?

Gripe.

Oh! the Devil! the Devil in my Chamber!

Rich.

Where! where! Let's see. I have lighted the Candle again!

Gripe.

Oh Rogue! art thou here! I think thou art the Devil, how couldst thou get in else? I lock'd all my dores and search'd every Room in the house, and thou wer't not in any of 'em—

Rich.

Sir, I was grown a little soberer with the fright of the Swords drawn, and sensible of my fault, I hid my self from your In∣dignation under my Flock-bed, where I have lain and sweat and trem∣bled, till I heard you cry out, and I could not but come to your assi∣stance:

Gripe.

That makes some amends. Let's into my Wife's Chamber and see what's the matter, may be 'twas a trick of the lewd Wo∣man's

to fright me, I am sure I put her in there—I led her by the hand my self—

Rich.

Be not afraid, Sir, sure 'twas no Devil you saw! have you not some guilt upon your Conscience?

Gripe.

Saw•…•…y Rogue, I guilt—I have none—I am as innocent as the Child new born. Come—let's in Rasoal. Oh Heav'n! what noise is that, Richard? I say, Richard, keep close to me Sirrah, close—

Rich.

Here's no body in the Chamber—

Gripe.

What do you say, no body? Look about the Bed, and in and under it quickly—

Rich.

Here is no body: Did you lead any body in here?

Gripe.

Yes, yes, I did—I had her by the hand I thought. And she spoke to me as she went in.

Rich.

Without doubt it was the Devil, and he is vanish'd—

Gripe.

Hell and Confusion!

Rich.

Now I think on't, when I ran out at the quarrel, I thought I saw my Mrs. go out hastily, take one of Sir Humprey's Coaches, and hurry away with it.

Gripe.

Oh horror! oh infamous Strumpet! I am rob'd, cuckold'd, abus'd; oh vilainous quean, she is now in the filthy act of cuckolding me. Hell and Devils! give me my broad Sword.

Rich.

Good Sir, call upon no Devils; we shall be torn in pieces.

Gripe.

I care not what becomes of me; give me my broad Sword, I'l fetch a Warrant to search that Rogue Scattergood's house, apprehend the Strumpet, bring her home, and murder her; seize upon his Estate, sue him to Outlaries innumerable, indict him and all the Rogues for Riots, &c. give me my broad Sword. Come along with me:

Rich.

I dare not.

Gripe.

I'll cut you off in the middle if you do not; get you before, I'll lock the doors: Oh whore, whore, whore!

Enter Sir Chr. Swash, Heildebrand, and Blunderbus.

Sir Chr.

Hey Boys, bravely done! scowr on! break those Win∣dows, 'tis Normandy Glass, scowr, scowr.

Heild.

Have at 'em.

Blund.

Fall on, fall on.

[They break Windows.

Sir Chr.

'Tis enough, march on; My Blunderbus and Heildebrand, we will over-run the Town, as easily as Alexander did Asia.

[A Citizen and his Wife walk by.

Heild.

A Prize! a Prize!

Blund.

Lay her aboard.

Citiz.

She's my Wife, Gentlemen, what would you have?

Sir Chr.

All kiss her—fall to, Boys.

Citiz.

Help, help! Watch, Watch!

Wife.

Murder, murder! help, help.

Sir Chr.

Ounds you Rogue d'ye call the Watch! Swinge him. There's for you Sirrah!

Blund.

Does she cry out? lay her on.

Citizen and Wife run out calling out help. Heild. strikes her.

Sir Chr.

'Gad we are very mad fellows, Are not we? my Bullies.

Heild.

Damme as e'r wore Swords. I take it.

Sir Chr.

More game, more game; have at 'em perverse Whores, a Pox on 'em, they are past squeaking in private, though they do it in publick.

Enter two or three Old Women.

Blund.

Who are these? Curse on 'em, they are old and ugly—

Heild.

Herb-women, going to Market.

Sir Chr.

Let 'em be what they will, I spare no Sex nor Age. Bel∣dams, you must be kiss'd for being women, and kick'd for being ugly. The Devil take me if the Town can match us for tearing Blades now.

[They run out crying Murder.

Enter two or three Apprentices singing and breaking Windows.

Sir Chr.

Stand! who are these? Rascals without Swords, Appren∣tices? must such Rogues as you usurp the priviledge of Gentlemen? such Scoundrels as you scowr? lay 'em on thick. let's swinge 'em—

Apprentices.

Help, help! Watch, Watch! Murder.

[They run out.

Sir Chr.

Death! Shall such pitiful fellows think to do like us?

Enter three or four Fidlers.

Blund.

Who's here? stand.

Heild.

Stand Rogues: ha! they'r Fidlers.

Fidlers.

We are going to Play under a window for a Wedding.

Sir Chr.

We'll stop your Journey, Rascal; strike up, and play to us while we break windows.

Fidl.

Good Gentlemen! we shall lose our Wedding; there are other Companies out that will be there before us.

Sir Chr.

We will cut and hack you first, and then your Fiddles.

Fidler.

Hold, hold Gentlemen! we will Play—

[They play scurvily.

Sir Chr.

Now let's break Windows to this Musick. 'Tis good for nothing else. Pull down all the Knockers, and wipe out the Milk scores: will this Rogue my Footman never come with Lamb-black, and a Brush that we may blot out the signs.

Enter Citizen, with the Constable and Watch.

Citiz.

These are the Rogues that set upon me and my Wife.

Consta.

Rogues! Sir Christopher Swash, and his Friends; They use to give us Money every night Neighbours.

Watchmen.

Ay, ay, very honest Gentlemen.

Consta.

You are a sawcy fellow.

Sir Chr.

Oh, Mr. Constable, let me kiss you; There's half a piece for your Watch to drink.

Consta.

Thanks, noble Sir Christopher. Who are you Sir? I must have an account of you.

Watch.

Ay, what are you?

[To Citizen.

Citiz.

I am an honest Man, and pay Scot and Lot in my Parish, and these Fellows set upon my Wife and me.

Consta.

Stay Fidlers▪ whither are you sneaking?

Sir Chr.

This fellow is a Rogue, and pickt up a Whore, and call'd her his Wife.

Consta.

Away with him to the Gatehouse—

Citiz.

Very fine.—

[Two hale the Citizen away.

Sir Chr.

Now honest Constable we are well met. And I have Fid∣dles, 'G•…•…d you shall Dance to 'em.

Const.

Any thing Master that you please.

Sir Chr.

When that's done, go into your Huts, drink Brandy like Dutch Skippers, and smoak like double Chimneys for the good and security of the Nation! while we scowr afresh.

Const.

Come fellows, strike up—

[Dance.

Sir Chr.

Very well—I vow.

Const.

Good morrow to your Worship.

Sir Chr.

Good morrow!

Const.

We are undon, yonder's the High Constable going the Rounds to Night! haste every one to his Post—

[Ex. Const. and Watch.

Enter Sir Nicholas Peakgoose.

Sir Chr.

Who's here, Sir Nicholas Peakgoose! i'faith thou shalt roar and sing, and break Windows—

Sir Nich.

Not for the world, Gentlemen; I am going to fetch my Celia from Sir Humphrey's house, if she find me in drink, she'll be outragious.

Sir Chr.

Gad you shall: hang sneaking after a Whore; Keep her under.

Sir Nich.

Pray Sir excuse me.

Sir Chr.

Gad do as I bid you, or fight.

Sir Nich.

Fight! oh Lord, fight! what would she say to me, if I should venture my self to fight?

Sir Chr.

Prithee don't stand prating, but roar and break Win∣dows, or draw.

Sir Nich.

I am resolv'd, I'll not draw: What will you have me do? what will become of me?

Sir Chr.

Follow us—

[Sings.

Diseases and Troubles are ne'r to be found, But in the damn'd place where the Glass goes not round.

Sing with a Pox to you.

Sir Nich.

Well, well—Diseases and Troubles, &c.

[Sings.

Enter H. Constable.

H. Const.

These are the Bullies that made the Havock last Night in Covent-Garden, and this Night hereabouts; fall on, knock 'em down.

Sir Chr.

How now! we must to Battle—

Constable and Watch fall on, Sir Nicholas running away is knock'd down and taken, the rest with broken Heads escape, and get to Sir Humphrey's House.

H. Const.

Come Sirrah! have we taken ye? we see where the others are gotten in.

Sir Nich.

Gentlemen, as I hope to be sav'd I was none of their Company; but they set upon me, and threatned to kill me if I went from 'em. I will be a witness against them.

Watch.

'Tis Sir Nicholas Peakgoose; a very civil Gentleman.

H. Const.

I know him! you will be forth coming in the Morning to witness against 'em—

Sir Nich.

I will.

H. Const.

Go! good night. Beset Sir Humphrey Scattergood's house, we'll have 'em and they be alive.

Sir Nich.

Good night Gentlemen: Oh my Head and Shoulders! a deuce take their scowring, for me—

[Exeunt Omnes.

Enter Steward.

SCENE Sir Humphrey's House.

Soft Musick plays.

Stew.

Heav'n how he melts his Time and Land away in Luxury and Sloath, and I by force must be an Instrument in his wickedness; now must I keep the Dore, while he, his Friends and Whores are lolling in their Baths, prepar'd with cost befitting Emperors; nay, They're per∣haps revelling in the height of Sin—but I will pray and read these godly Meditations by my self—

[A Song is sung to 'em within.

Enter Sir Christopher, Blunderbus, and Heildebrand.

Sir Chr.

Hear you old formal Steward, where is your Master?

Stew.

Bless me, what ails you all? are your Brains beaten out?

Sir Chr.

No, we have had a Battle with the Myrmidons of St. Mar∣tins, we have swinged, and are swinged—

Blund.

I am sure my Porker is embrued in Blood.

Heild.

And mine is stain'd in gore of filthy Peasant.

Stew.

Bless us! Heav'n! Have you committed Murder?

Sir Chr.

Prithee leave prating, and open the door; we heard the Musick this way, thy Master's there.

Stew.

You must not pass; my Master and his Friends are all in Baths.

Sir Chr.

And where are the Women, the Cockatrices?

Stew.

The Cockatrices are bathing too.

Sir Chr.

What mine?

Stew.

Yes, yours.

Blund.

What a Pox, does he manage the Body of your Caravan?

Sir Chr.

Peace Oylie—his own Convenient's there, we will all run roaring in.

Stew.

You cannot pass; there is a Blunderbuss within charged with 15 Bullets, in the hands of a damn'd desperate Rogue.

Sir Chr.

Pox on't—I know my Buttock's honest; but I care not, for the Devil take me, I drink too much to be a man at Arms. Gad! I only keep her •…•…or the lewdness of the matter.

Enter Sir Nicholas Peakgoose.

Blund.

Halloo—Here's Peakgoose. Now you shall drink—

Heild.

'Gad—•…•…e have catch'd you; you shall drink like a Devil.

Sir Chr.

Ay 'gad shall you—and roar and have t'other Battel too, Boy—

[Sings.

The Stars which you see, In the Hemisphear be But the st•…•…ds in your faces with Drinking, &c.

Sir Nich.

Good Gentlemen, Pardon me. I must go to my Dear. Where is Madam Chloris, Friend?

Stew.

You cannot come at her: the Ladies are in one Bathing Room, and the G•…•…ntlemen in another just by 'em.

Blund.

Sir Humphrey will swinge your Buttock away—

Heild.

Yes, He or some of'em will manage your Natural gallantly.

Sir Nich.

Who! my Birds n'eyes. I am sure she would not do such a thing, as I may say, for the world.

Sir Chr.

Pish! Pox of Whores. Let's go drink 'em out of our heads. Where's the Yeoman of the Cellar?

Stew.

Why he, or his Servant is nev•…•…r out on't! 'Twill come to a fine pass.

Sir Chr.

Come along to the Cellar.

Sir Nich.

Excuse me, I will not go—what to make a Beast of my self?

Sir Chr.

If you will not go, Draw! for 'foregod you shall fight.

Sir Nich.

What will become of me? with these roaring Fellows I must go.

Sir Chr.

The Sun's gone to Tipple all Night in the Sea Boys, To morrow hee'l rise, and be paler than we Boys; Give us Wine, give him Water, 'tis Sack makes us The Boys.

Enter Sir Humphrey, Bellamy, and Wildman, in morning Gowns.

Bell.

With what variety of pleasure you melt away your hours.

Wild.

There's need of Fancy and Invention for such Luxury.

Sir Humph.

It is beyond the sence of Fops; a Fool has not wit enough to be pleas'd, he but seems merry, when he's sad at heart. Is not this better than venturing life for Ambition, being perpetually anxious for a Blew-Ribbon, or a white-Staff, to have a crowd of Cli∣ents sneaking two hours in my Anti▪Chamber, who crouch like Slaves

when I appear; yet hate and scorn me for my Pride the while?

Bell.

These are the irregular appetites of Men, whose Minds are Sick. The vigorous Body and the healthful mind can find no plea∣sure but in Sense.

Wild.

Fools are led away by shadows, and let the substance go; while the rash, giddy, and magnanimous Fool runs abroad, is delicate∣ly lousie, and kills men for Honour, who never anger'd him: We stay at home and get 'em.

Sir Humph.

Which I take it, is the more honourable employment of the Two. Another Fop breaks his Brains with Metaphysical Non∣sence, a Mathematical Coxcomb besots himself with a, b, c, Superfi∣cies, Lines and Angles; our Virtuoso contemplates Lice in Micro∣scopes; your Orator studies to show his parts in Whipt-Cream∣speeches; your Schoolman wasts his time in Bulls and Nonsensical Distinctions to make the same thing differ from it self; and your poli∣ti•…•…k. Owl drudges and makes a business of what is none—

Wild.

And all the while the Senses are neglected.

Sir Humph.

Your drudging Millhorse Block-head, is useful for Go∣vernment, while we most wisely find out Pleasures for every Sense; we are Lords o'th' world, and enjoy all in it, while they are Slaves—

Bell.

Twas not our fault, we did not please every Sense even now. These pretty Whores are skittish.

Wild.

We could do nothing with 'em but put them to the squeak a little.

Sir Humph.

Some of these kept-Ladies, will no more treat you with Love, than Taverns will with Wine; 'tis against their Trade: But I have had 'em all for Money. I cannot, like the grand Signior, make a Wench come when I give my Handkerchief: But if I see a pretty Whore I like, I send her 50 l. and to that Lure she stoops, and strait I Truss her: if not, a 100 l. brings her down: my Money is less pre∣cious than my Time.

Bell.

Faith, you are in the right: I see what 'twill come to—for I have a damnable mind to that pretty Jade Celia.

Wild.

And I must have my Chloris, whatever becomes of me.

Enter Sir Nicholas Peakgoose.

Sir Nich.

Sir Humphrey! Your humble Servant.

Sir Humph.

Sir Nicholas Peakgoose! your Servant.

Sir Nich.

Where is my Mistress, poor Rogue?

Sir Humph.

Within, with her Companions.

Sir Nich.

I long to see her, pretty Rogue. I have not seen her these six hours, and yonder's Sir Christopher Swash—and his Hectorly Companions will kill me with drinking Bumpers, as they call 'em, if you protect me not; they draw and threaten to fight with me, if I do not drink; I have been knock'd down by the Watch, for being taken for one of his lewd Company already. Hide me—hide me.

Enter Sir Christopher, Blunderbus, and Heildebrand.

Sir Chr.

Where is this Scoundrel, that basely flies from a Bumper? Draw! I will have satisfaction. I will Tap him, and let out the Claret he has drank already.

Sir Humph.

Good Sir Christopher, spare his life for my sake.

Sir Chr.

For your sake he lives; but upon condition, he shall come down and drink lustily—

Sir Humph.

What makes you bloody?

Sir Chr.

We have had a Skirmish, faith. Would you had been with us, I never saw better scowring days of my life; but now we are here, let's all down and drink bloodily.

Blund.

There's no life to drinking, roaring, and lying rough.

Heild.

There's no pleasure in a single Drunkenness. But Sir Nicho∣las and we lead a life, we!

Sir Humph.

Let us borrow Sir Nicholas a quarter of an hour, till he sees his Mistress, and then we'll restore him—

Sir Chr.

D'ye hear Nick? Be sure you come, or by Heav'n I'll run you through the Lungs next time I meet you—

They go out Singing.]

March on bravely! forward let us go, Tara ra rant tan tant, tan tan tan ta ra ra rant tan tan! The Trumpets they do blow.

Sir Nich.

Oh Lord have have mercy upon me! what shall I do? I•…•…ll swear the Peace against him, if I live and breath.

Enter Phillis, Celia, and Chloris.

Oh my Dear! Art thou there?

Celia.

Yes, you Fop; But what do you do here?

Sir Nich.

Prithee be not angry Miss. I come to wait on Thee home—

Celia.

I•…•…ll not go—Go home by your self! go I say, go quickly—

Sir Nich.

Good, dear Madam, let me stay.

Celia.

I shall have people think you are jealous of me! How dare you come after me thus?

Sir Nich.

I jealous! I'd have 'em to know I scorn their words.

Celia.

Go home then! get you gone! Why do you stay, when I bid you go? Must you come sneaking after me? Do you think you are fit to be seen in good Company, because I am so?

Sir Nich.

I know I am not; but good, sweet Madam, let me stay here: I beg•…•… it on my knees.

Phill.

Nay, nay, now you are too Cruel: let me intercede for him.

Sir Nich.

Ay!

Chlo.

Madam! Pray let me beg for him.

Sir Nich.

Look you there.

Cel.

He shall not stay. Ladies, you don't know what you do, If I shou'd suffer him, he'ld always be peaking after me—Go, I say, I will be obey'd—

Sir Nich.

I'll give thee all the Money I have about me, if thou'lt go home with me.

Celia.

Come, give it me.

Sir Nich.

There.

Celia.

Well, I will go home, but go you out and wait an hour, till I come.

Sir Nich.

Well, my Dear, what you will. Good, Sir Humphrey, let your Servants guard me from these Roarers.

Sir Humph.

Well, poor Rogue, I'll stay. Go! thou art a pretty one.

[Ex. Sir Nicholas.

Stew.

Sir, the fat Gentlewoman is come with three young Girls.

Phill.

There's a Collation waits you; will you come in to it, my Dearest?

Sir Humph.

Go! we will follow you—

[Ex. Phill. Cel. Chloris.

Now Gentlemen, a consultation: Here are Maiden-heads coming, we'll divide 'em equally. Steward, send her in, and convey her At∣tendants the back way into my Apartment. And let 'em be bath'd, new rigg'd with Linnen.

Stew.

It goes against my Conscience, and is below my Dignity.

Sir Humph.

Sirrah! Begon! obey me, or you have no Tips of Ears to Morrow—

[Exit Steward.

Enter Bawd.

Bawd.

Well, I have taken such pains for you, I am ready to ex∣pire—I had gotten my house full of handsom Wenches for your Wor∣ships use: But I thought the Maiden-heads I spoke of would be more fit, and I have brought 'em all three with much ado.

Sir Humph.

And will you warrant 'em Maids?

Bawd.

That I will upon my sincerity; did I ever deceive you? I have more Conscience than to be corrupt in my Calling, not for this Earth I would not—But these are dearer than I thought. They are 50 l. a piece, if you have 'em: I never higgle or make words with you.

Sir Humph.

Talk not of Price! it is my Birth-Night. Gentlemen, I'll treat you like a man of Honour. We'll cast Lots for 'em.

Bell.

You are too obliging.

[Enter Steward.

Stew.

I hae conducted the Gentlewomen—Whores in.

Sir Humph.

Prethee honest Bawd, go and bring all the Whores in at my back-gate. Do you hear, old Fool? see you entertain 'em well: and let every Stranger and Servant in my House have his Cher entirè. I'll not have a Man-servant idle, nor a Maid-servant honest: Chastity shall be Felony, and Sobriety High-Treason.

Bawd.

Well Sir, I'll fetch 'em all.

[Ex.

Stew.

Good Sir, will you whip me, hang me, or—

Sir Humph.

Peace, thou hypocritical old Sot; do you hear, be you Drunk soundly, and Whore lustily, or Wars will ensue between us—

Stew.

Whore! oh Lord! I whore? What will become of me?

Sir Humph.

Come on my Friends, Let's in and survey my Mar∣kettings—

Wild.

Lead on, my noble Prince of Pleasure; and we'll follow—

Stew.

To the Devil all! and thither I shall follow, unless I suddenly get loose from these clutches.

[Exit Steward.

Enter Sir Nicholas Peakgoose, Sir Christopher, Blunderbus, and Heildebrand.

Sir Chr.

Are you so nimble i'faith! we have catch't you agen!

Sir Nich.

You have made me drunk with these Bumpers. What will you murder me? have some pity on me, on my Knees I beg you'l let me drink no more; what will my Mrs. say?

Sir Chr.

You are in a good posture. Kneel all! Fill us t'other Bumper. 'Death! Drink it, I say. Drink it, or Blood will ensue—

Sir Nich.

What will become of poor Sir Nicholas?—

Sir Chr.

All together clash.

Sir Nich.

Well, I must do't.

Sir Chr.

T'other round.

Sir Nich.

Mercy upon me! I am dead! I am kill'd! I'll lay my death to your charge—no more to be said.

[He lets fall the glass, and breaks it.

Sir Chr.

Ah Rascal, Do you spill your Drink! 'Ownds! fling the rest of the Bumpers in's face.

Sir Nich.

Murder! Help,—help. I am slain.

They fling all the glasses in's face.

Without.

Open the Dore! we'll break it open—

[A great noise without.

Sir Chr.

What's the matter? Now draw the Fool away; he's dead drunk.

[A noise again.

Enter Sir Humph. Bell. and Wildman.

Sir Humph.

How now! What's the m•…•…tter without?

Enter a Servant.

Serv.

Sir! The High Constable with a huge Guard, and Mr. Gripe in the head of 'em is come with a Warrant to search the house.—

Sir Humph.

Call up my Servants! fetch my Guns.

Sir Chr.

Hey Boys! we shall have more scowring!

Blund.

Now we shall show our vàlour.

Enter Servants with Guns and Pistols.

H. Constable and Watch break in. Gripe and Richard.

Sir Humph.

What means this violence?

H. Const.

We have a Warrant to search for Mrs. Gripe.—

Sir Humph.

Fall on! fall on. We are victorious, and have taken Prisoners.

They fall on, beat the Con∣stable and Watch out, re∣turn with Gripe, and Richard Prisoners.

Gripe.

What will become of us! we shall be Murder'd.

Sir Humph.

Lock 'em up, Safe! and guard my house with Guns and Musquets! unseasonable Rascals to interrupt our pleasure.

Blund.

Shall we plunder, strip, and take the spoil of the Field?

Sir Humph.

No▪ we'll call 'em to a Council of War, and condemn 'em; away with 'em.

[They carry Gripe and Richard away.

Gripe.

O mercy, mercy!

Sir Humph.

What is Sir Nicholas kill'd in the fray?

Sir Chr.

No—in our fray; Dead drunk. This was a brave Battle!

Sir Humph.

Now all to bed: Carry Sir Nicholas to bed.

Sir Chr.

Not we! we'll go drink and lie rough! fare you well upon those terms. Come Bullies, I think we have behav'd our selves like Emperours!

Enter Mrs. Gripe like a •…•…oung Officer, and her Brother's Serjeant.

Mrs. Gripe.

Am I compleatly set out like a young Officer? Do my Brother's Accoutrements sit well upon me?

Serj.

They become you admirably; you are as brisk, as fierce an Officer as the best of 'em; and so like your Brother, 'tis amazing, had not I been privy to your Design and his, I should have sworn you were my Captain.

Mrs. Gripe.

That likeness between us will further my design. My Husband knows nothing of my Brother, but that he has heard we are so like, that upon an Experiment I drest my self in man's clothes once, and we were not known from one another. But do I strut, cock, and look fierce enough?

Serj.

To a Miracle! But since you have this design upon your Hus∣band to fright and make him yield to good terms, why would you not let your Brother carry it on?

Mrs. Gripe.

He resents so much the base usage of me, that I know not what his passion might have provok'd him to: Besides, it seems to be the right of an English Woman to Hector her own Husband; and faith, I'll have him under my Command now, or press him for Flanders.

Serj.

Bravely resolv'd.

Mrs. Gripe.

I'll teach Húsbands to provoke their own Flesh.

Serj.

That is out of his power or yours to do to him—

[Aside.

Mrs. Gripe.

I'll make him such an example. I'll make all Husbands have a care, how by Injuries they sower their Wive's love into re∣venge, or their meekness into rage. I know he's a Coward, as all Tyrants are; and I'll make him e're I have done, as dearly as he loves his Money, part with a good Sum for fear of his lif•…•…—

Serj.

Methinks they that live so miserably, shou'd not fear to dye—

Mrs. Gripe.

Oh yes! They are such •…•…ools to choose the worst part of life, and are yet greater Fools, and prefer it to Death, which is far better: to be dead, is to be insensible; but to have senses and deny 'em all, is worse. Do you find him out, and get him to a private place, and let me alone.

Serj.

I will, Madam! 'Sheart I shall forget to call you Captain.

Mrs. Gripe.

Well, I shall strut, look big, and huff enough for a Cap∣tain, I warrant you▪ by your leave Modesty for a while. A desperate ill, must have a desperate cure: But these words of Command stick in my Throat, and I cannot swear worth a farthing.

Serj.

Oh use, use! 'tis nothing but use—

Mrs. Gripe.

But why must we use French Discipline? we did not so when Henry the Fifth beat 'em.

Serj.

Why, by plaguing the world this Ten years, they have found a better way than we have.

Mrs. Gripe.

Well, I'll try! Let me con—Even your Ranks. Straiten your Files. Shoulder all. Rest your Arms. To the right, to the right, to the right. To the left, to the left, to the left. Dam'me what awkard Rogue is this?

[She canes the Serjeant.

Serj.

O brave Captain! well done! But 'twas a little o'th hardest.

Mrs. Gripe.

I'll warrant you—I'll lay it on—let me alone for Discipline—allòns.

[Exeunt.

The End of the Third Act.