WHAT will this come to? What can it end in? You have persuaded me to leave dear England, and dearer London, the place of the World most worth living in, to follow you a Husband-hunting into America: I thought Husbands grew in these Plantations.

Why so they do, as thick as Oranges, ripening one under another. Week after week they drop into some Wo∣man's mouth: 'Tis but a little patience, spreading your Apron in expectation, and one of 'em will fall into your Lap at last.

Ay, so you say indeed.

But you have left dear London, you say: Pray what have you left in London that was very dear to you, that had not left you before?

Speak for your self, Sister.

Nay, I'll keep you in countenance. The Young Fellows, you know, the dearest part of the Town, and without whom London had been a Wilderness to you and me, had forsaken us a great while.

Forsaken us! I don't know that they ever had us.

Forsaken us the worst way, Child; that is, did not think us worth having; they neglected us, no longer design'd upon us, they were tir'd of us. Women in London are like Page  2 the Rich Silks, they are out of fashion a great while before they wear out.—

The Devil take the Fashion, I say.

You may tumble 'em over and over at their first coming up, and never disparage their Price; but they fall upon wearing immediately, lower and lower in their value, till they come to the Broker at last.

Ay, ay, that's the Merchant they deal with. The Men would have us at their own scandalous Rates: Their Plenty makes 'em wanton; and in a little time, I suppose, they won't know what they would have of the Women themselves.

O, yes, they know what they wou'd have. They wou'd have a Woman give the Town a Pattern of her Person and Beauty, and not stay in it so long to have the whole Piece worn out. They wou'd have the Good Face only discover'd, and not the Folly that commonly goes along with it. They say there is a vast Stock of Beauty in the Nation, but a great part of it lies in unprofitable hands; therefore for the good of the Publick, they wou'd have a Draught made once a Quarter, send the decaying Beauties for Breeders into the Countrey, to make room for New Faces to appear, to countenance the Pleasures of the Town.

'Tis very hard, the Men must be young as long as they live, and poor Women be thought decaying and unfit for the Town at One or Two and twenty. I'm sure we were not Seven Years in London.

Not half the time taken notice of, Sister. The Two or Three last Years we could make nothing of it, even in a Vizard-Masque; not in a Vizard-Masque, that has cheat∣ed many a man into an old acquaintance. Our Faces began to be as familiar to the Men of Intrigue, as their Duns, and as much avoided. We durst not appear in Publick Places, and were almost grudg'd a Gallery in the Churches: Even there they had their Jests upon us, and cry'd, She's in the right on't, good Gentlewoman, since no man considers her Body, she does very well indeed to take care of her Soul.

Such unmannerly fellows there will always be.

Then, you may remember, we were reduc'd to the last necessity, the necessity of making silly Visits to our civil Acquaintance, to bring us into tolerable Company. Nay, the young Inns-of-Court Beaus, of but one Term's standing in the Fashion, who knew no body, but as they were shewn 'em by the Orange-Women, had Nicknames for us: How often have they laugh'd out, There goes my Landlady; Is not she come to let Lodgings yet?

Young Coxcombs that knew no better.

And that we must have come to. For your part, what Trade cou'd you set up in? You wou'd never arrive at the Trust and Credit of a Guinea-Bawd: You wou'd have too much Business of your own, ever to mind other Peoples.

That is true indeed.

Then, as a certain sign that there was nothing more to be hop'd for, the Maids at the Chocolate-Houses found us out, and laugh'd at us: Our Billet-doux lay there neglected for Waste-Paper: We were cry'd down so low we cou'd not pass upon the City; and became so notorious in our galloping way, from one end of the Town to t'other, that at last we cou'd hardly compass a competent change of Petticoats to disguize us to the Hackney-Coachmen: And then it was near walking a-foot indeed.

Nay, that I began to be afraid of.

To prevent which, with what Youth and Beauty was left, some Experience, and the small Remainder of Fifteen hundred Pounds apiece, which amounted to bare Two hundred between us both, I persuaded you to bring your Person for a Venture to the Indies. Every thing has succeed∣ed in our Voyage: I pass for your Brother: One of the Rich∣est Planters here happening to dye just as we landed, I have claim'd Kindred with him: So, without making his Will, he has left us the Credit of his Relation to trade upon: We pass for his Cousins, coming here to Surinam chiefly upon his Invitation: We live in Reputation; have the best Acquain∣tance Page  4 of the place; and we shall see our account in't, I war∣rant you.

I must rely upon you—

Mr Welldon, your Servant. Your Servant, Mrs. Lucy. I am an Ill Visitor, but 'tis not too late, I hope, to bid you welcome to this side of the world.

Gad so, I beg your Pardon, Widow, I shou'd have done the Civilities of my House before: but, as you say, 'tis not too late, I hope.—

What! You think now this was a civil way of beg∣ging a Kiss; and by my Troth, if it were, I see no harm in't; 'tis a pitiful Favour indeed that is not worth asking for: Tho I have known a Woman speak plainer before now, and not understood neither.

Not under my Roof. Have at you, Widow.—

Why, that's well said, spoke like a Younger Brother, that deserves to have a Widow.—

You're a Younger Brother, I know, by your kissing.

How so, pray?

Why, you kiss as if you expected to be paid for't. You have Birdlime upon your Lips. You stick so close, there's no getting rid of you.

I am a-kin to a Younger Brother.

So much the better: We Widows are commonly the better for Younger Brothers.

Better, or worse, most of you. But you won't be much better for him, I can tell you.—

I was a Younger Brother; but an Uncle of my Mo∣ther's has malicionsly left me an Estate, and, I'm afraid, spoil'd my Fortune.

No, no; an Estate will never spoil your Fortune. I have a good Estate my self, thank Heaven, and a kind Hus∣band that left it behind him.

Thank Heaven, that took him away from it, Widow, and left you behind him.

Nay, Heav'ns Will must be done; he's in a better place.

A better place for you, no doubt on't: Now you may look about you; chuse for your self, Mrs. Lackitt, that's your business; for I know you design to marry again.

O dear! Not I, I protest and swear; I don't design it: But I won't swear neither; one does not know what may happen to tempt one.

Why, a lusty young Fellow may happen to tempt you.

Nay, I'll do nothing rashly: I'll resolve against no∣thing. The Devil they say, is very busy upon these occa∣sions; especially with the Widows. But if I am to be tempt∣ed, it must be with a Young Man, I promise you—Mrs. Lu∣cy, Your Brother is a very pleasant Gentleman: I came about Business to him, but he turns every thing into Merri∣ment.

Business, Mrs. Lackitt. Then, I know, you wou'd have me to your self. Pray leave us together, Sister.

What am I drawing upon my self here?

You have taken a very pretty House here; every thing so neat about you already. I hear you are laying out for a Plantation.

Why, yes truly, I like the Countrey, and wou'd buy a Plantation, if I cou'd, reasonably.

O! by all means, reasonably.

If I cou'd have one to my mind, I wou'd think of settling among you.

O! you can't do better. Indeed we can't pretend to have so good company for you, as you had in England; but we shall make very much of you. For my own part, I assure you, I shall think my self very happy to be more par∣ticularly known to you.

Dear Mrs. Lackitt, you do me too much Honour.

Then as to a Plantation, Mr. Welldon, you know I have several to dispose of. Mr. Lackitt, I thank him, has left me, though I say it, the Richest Widow upon the place; therefore I may afford to use you better than other Page  6 people can. You shall have one upon any reasonable terms.

That's a fair Offer indeed.

You shall find me as easy as any body you can have to do with, I assure you. Pray try me, I wou'd have you try me, Mr. Welldon. Well, I like that Name of yours ex∣ceedingly, Mr. Welldon.

My Name!

O exceedingly! If any thing cou'd persuade me to alter my own Name, I verily believe nothing in the world wou'd do it so soon, as to be call'd Mrs. Welldon.

Why, indeed Welldon does sound something better than Lackitt.

O! a great deal better. Not that there is so much in a Name neither. But I don't know, there is something: I shou'd like mightily to be call'd Mrs. Welldon.

I'm glad you like my Name.

Of all things. But then there's the misfortune; one can't change ones Name, without changing ones Con∣dition.

You'l hardly think it worth that, I believe.

Think it worth what, Sir? Changing my Conditi∣on? Indeed, Sir, I think it worth every thing. But, alas! Mr. Welldon, I have been a Widow but Six Months; 'tis too soon to think of changing ones Condition yet; indeed it is: Pray don't desire it of me: Not but that you may persuade me to any thing, sooner than any Person in the world.—

Who, I, Mrs. Lackitt?

Indeed you may, Mr. Welldon, sooner than any man living. Lord, there's a great deal in saving a Decency: I never minded it before: Well, I'm glad you spoke first to excuse my Modesty. But what, Modesty means nothing, and is the Virtue of a Girl, that does not know what she would be at: A Widow should be wiser. Now I will own to you; but I won't confess neither; I have had a great Respect for you a great while: I beg your Pardon, Sir, and I must declare to you, indeed I must, if you desire to dispose of all I have in the world, in an Honourable Way, which Page  7 I don't pretend to be any way deserving your consideration, my Fortune and Person, if you won't understand me without telling you so, are both at your service. Gad so! another time—

So, Mrs. Lackitt, your Widowhood is waneing apace. I see which way 'tis going. Welldon, you're a hap∣py man. The Women and their Favours come home to you.

A fiddle of favour, Mr. Stanmore: I am a lone Wo∣man, you know it, left in a great deal of Business; and Bu∣siness must be followed or lost. I have several Stocks and Plantations upon my hands, and other things to dispose of, which Mr. Welldon may have occasion for.

We were just upon the brink of a Bargain, as you came in.

Let me drive it on for you.

So you must, I believe, you or somebody for me.

I'll stand by you: I understand more of this business, than you can pretend to.

I don't pretend to't; 'tis quite out of my way in∣deed.

If the Widow gets you to her self, she will certainly be too hard for you: I know her of old: She has no Con∣science in a Corner; a very Jew in a bargain, and would cir∣cumcise you to get more of you.

Is this true, Widow?

Speak as you find, Mr. Welldon: I have offer'd you very fair: Think upon't, and let me hear of you: The soon∣er the better, Mr. Welldon.—

I assure you, my Friend, she'll cheat you if she can.

I don't know that; but I can cheat her, if I will.

Cheat her? How?

I can marry her; and then I'm sure I have it in my power to chear her.

Can you marry her?

Yes, faith, so she says: Her pretty Person and For∣tune (which, one with the other, you know, are not contemp∣tible) are both at my service.

Contemptible! very considerable, I'gad; very desi∣rable: Why, she's worth Ten thousand Pounds, man; a clear Estate: No charge upon't, but a boobi•y Son: He in∣deed was to have half; but his Father begot him, and she breeds him up, not to know or have more than she has a mind to: And she has a mind to something else, it seems.

There's a great deal to be made of this.—

A handsome Fortune may be made on't; and I advise you to't, by all means.

To marry her! an old, wanton Witch! I h••e her.

No matter for that: Let her go to the Devil for you. She'll cheat her Son of a good Estate for you: That's a Per∣quisite of a Widow's Portion always.

I have a design, and will follow her at least, till I have a Pen'worth of the Plantation.

I speak as a friend, when I advise you to marry her. For 'tis directly against the Interest of my own Family. My Cousin Jack has belabour'd her a good while that way.

What! Honest Jack! I ll not hinder him. I'll give over the thoughts of her.

He'll make nothing on't; she does not care for him. I'm glad you have her in your power.

I may be able to serve him.

Here's a Ship come into the River; I was in hopes it had been from England.

From England!

No, I was disappointed; I long to see this handsome Cousin of yours: The Picture you gave me of her has charm'd me.

You'll see whether it has flatter'd her or no, in a lit∣tle time. If she recover'd of that Illness that was the reason of her staying behind us, I know she will come with the first opportunity. We shall see her, or hear of her death.

We'll hope the best. The Ships from England are expected every day.

What Ship is this?

A Rover, a Buccaneer, a Trader in Slaves: That's the Commodity we deal in, you know. If you have a cu∣riosity to see our manner of marketting, I'll wait upon you.

We'll take my Sister with us.—

THere's no resisting your Fortune, Blandford; you draw all the Prizes.

I draw for our Lord Governor, you know; his For∣tune favours me.

I grudge him nothing this time; but if Fortune had favour'd me in the last Sale, the Fair Slave had been mine; Clemene had been mine.

Are you still in love with her?

Every day more in love with her.

Here have I six Slaves in my Lot, and not a Man among 'em; all Women and Children; what can I do with 'em, Captain? Pray consider, I am a Woman my self, and can't get my own Slaves, as some of my Neighbours do.

I have all Men in mine: Pray, Captain, let the Men and Women be mingled together, for Procreation-sake, and the good of the Plantation.

Ay, ay, a Man and a Woman, Captain, for the good of the Plantation.

Let 'em mingle together and be damn'd, what care I? Would you have me pimp for the good of the Plantation?

I am a constant Customer, Captain.

I am always Ready Money to you, Captain.

For that matter, Mistress, my Money is as ready as yours.

Pray hear me, Captain.

Look you, I have done my part by you; I have brought the number of Slaves you bargain'd for; if your Lots have not pleas'd you, you must draw again among your selves.

I am contented with my Lot.

I am very well satisfied.

We'll have no drawing again.

Do you hear, Mistress? You may hold your tongue: For my part, I expect my Money.

Captain, No body questions or scruples the Payment. But I won't hold my tongue; 'tis too much to pray and pay too: One may speak for ones own, I hope.

Well, what wou'd you say?

I say no more than I can make out.

Out with it then.

I 〈◊〉, things have not been so fair carry'd as they might have been. How do I know how you have juggled together in my absence? You drew the Lots before I came, I'm sure.

That's your own fault, Mistress; you might have come sooner.

Then here's a Prince, as they say, among the Slaves, and you set him down to go as a common Man.

Have you a mind to try what a Man he is? You'll find him no more than a common Man at your business.

Sir, You're a scurvy Fellow to talk at this rate to me. If my Husband were alive, Gadsbodykins, you wou'd not use me so.

Right, Mistress, I would not use you at all.

Not use me! Your Betters every Inch of you, I wou'd have you to know, wou'd be glad to use me, Sirrah. Marry come up here, who are you, I trow? You begin to think your self a Captain, forsooth, because we call you so. You forget your self as fast as you can; but I remember Page  11 you; I know you for a pitiful paltry Fellow, as you are; an Upstart to Prosperity; one that is but just come acquainted with Cleanliness, and that never saw Five Shillings of your own, without deserving to be hang'd for 'em.

She has giv'n you a Broadside, Captain; You'll stand up to her.

Hang her, Stink-pot, I'll come no near.

By this good light, it wou'd make a Woman do a thing she never design'd; Marry again, tho she were sure to repent it, to be reveng'd of such a—

What's the matter, Mrs. Lackitt? Can I serve you?

No, no, you can't serve me: You are for serving your self, I'm sure. Pray go about your business, I have none for you: You know I have told you so. Lord! how can you be so troublesome? nay, so unconscionable, to think that every Rich Widow must throw her self away upon a Young Fellow that has nothing?

Jack, You are answer'd, I suppose.

I'll have another pluck at her.

Mr. Welldon, I am a little out of order; but pray bring your Sister to dine with me. Gad's my life, I'm out of all patience with that pitiful Fellow: My flesh rises at him: I can't stay in the place where he is.—

Captain, You have us'd the Widow very fami∣liarly.

This is my way; I have no design, and therefore am not over civil. If she had ever a handsome Daughter to wheedle her out of: Or if I cou'd make any thing of her Booby Son.

I may improve that hint, and make something of him.

She's very Rich.

I'm rich my self. She has nothing that I want. I have no Leaks to stop. Old Women are Fortune-Menders. I have made a good Voyage, and wou'd reap the fruits of my labour. We plow the deep, my Masters, but our Harvest is on shore. I'm for a Young Woman.

Look about, Captain, there's one ripe, and ready for the Sickle.

A Woman indeed! I will be acquainced with her: Who is she?

My Sister, Sir.

Wou'd I were a-kin to her: If she were my Sister, she shou'd never go out of the Family. What say you, Mistress? You expect I should marry you, I suppose.

I shan't be disappointed, if you don't.

She won't break her heart, Sir.

But I mean——

And I mean—

That you must not think of her without marrying.

I mean so too.

Why then your meaning's out.

You're very short.

I will grow, and be taller for you.

I shall grow angry, and swear.

You'll catch no fish then.

I don't well know whether he designs to affront me, or no.

No, no, he's a little familiar; 'tis his way.

Say you so? Nay, I can be as familiar as he, if that be it. Well, Sir, look upon me full: What say you? How do you like me for a Brother-in-law?

Why yes, faith, you'll do my business, If we can agree about my Sister's.

I don't know whether your Sister will like me, or not: I can't say much to her: But I have Money enough: And if you are her Brother, as you seem to be a-kin to her, I know that will recommend me to you.

This is your Market for Slaves; my Sister is a Free Woman, and must not be dispos'd of in publick. You shall be welcome to my House, if you please: And, upon better acquaintance, if my Sister likes you, and I like your Offers,—

Very well, Sir, I'll come and see her.

Where are the Slaves, Captain? They are long a coming.

And who is this Prince that's fallen to my Lot, for the Lord Governor? Let me know something of him, that I may treat him accordingly; who is he?

He's the Devil of a Fellow, I can tell you; a Prince every Inch of him: You have paid dear enough for him, for all the good he'll do you: I was forc'd to clap him in Irons, and did not think the Ship safe neither. You are in hostility with the Indians, they say; they threaten you daily: You had best have an eye upon him.

But who is he?

And how do you know him to be a Prince?

He is Son and Heir to the great King of Angola, a mischievous Monarch in those parts, who, by his good will, wou'd never let any of his Neighbours be in quiet. This Son was his General, a plaguy fighting Fellow: I have for∣merly had dealings with him for Slaves, which he took Pri∣soners, and have got pretty roundly by him: But the Wars being at an end, and nothing more to be got by the Trade of that Countrey, I made bold to bring the Prince along with me.

How could you do that?

What! steal a Prince out of his own Countrey? Impossible!

'Twas hard indeed; but I did it. You must know, this Oroonoko—

Is that his Name?

Ay, Oroonoko.

Oroonoko.

Is naturally inquisitive about the Men and Manners of the White Nations. Because I could give him some ac∣count of the other Parts of the World, I grew very much into his favour: In return of so great an Honour, you know I cou'd do no less upon my coming away, than invite him on board me: Never having been in a Ship, he appointed his time, and I prepared my Entertainment: He came the next Evening as privately as he cou'd, with about some Twenty along with him. The Punch went round; and as many of his Attendants as wou'd be dangerous, I sent dead drunk Page  14 on shore; the rest we secur'd: And so you have the Prince Oroonoko.

Gad-a-mercy, Captain, there you were with him, I'faith.

Such men as you are fit to be employ'd in Publick Affairs: The Plantation will thrive by you.

Industry shou'd be encourag'd.

There's nothing done without it, Boys. I have made my Fortune this way.

Unheard-of Villany!

Barbarous Treachery!

They applaud him for't.

But, Captain, methinks you have taken a great deal of pains for this Prince Oroonoko; why did you part with him at the common rate of Slaves?

Why, Lieutenant-Governor, I'll tell you; I did design to carry him to England, to have show'd him there; but I found him troublesome upon my hands, and I'm glad I'm rid of him.—Oh, ho, here they come.

Are all these Wretches Slaves?

All sold, they and their Posterity all Slaves.

O miserable Fortune!

Most of 'em know no better; they were born so, and only change their Masters. But a Prince, born only to Command, betray'd and sold! My heart drops blood for him.

Now, Governor, here he comes, pray observe him.

So, Sir, You have kept your Word with me.

I am a better Christian, I thank you, than to keep it with a Heathen.

You see what a Bloody Pagan he is, Governor; but I took care that none of his Followers should be in the same Lot with him, for fear they shou'd undertake some desperate action, to the danger of the Colony.

Sir, I am sorry for your Fortune, and wou'd help it, if I cou'd.

Take off his Chains. You know your condition; but you are fall'n into Honourable Hands: You are the Lord Governor's Slave, who will use you nobly: In his absence it shall be my care to serve you.

I hear you, but I can believe no more.

Captain, I'm afraid the world won't speak so ho∣nourably of this action of yours, as you wou'd have 'em.

I have the Money. Let the world speak and be damn'd, I care not.

I have other matters to mind. You have him, and much good may do you with your Prince.

What wou'd you have there? You stare as if you never saw a Man before. Stand further off.

All things shall be easy.

I am my self; but call me what you please.

A very good Name, Caesar.

And very fit for his great Character.

Was Caesar then a Slave?

I think he was; to Pirates too: He was a great Conqueror, but unfortunate in his Friends.—

His Friends were Christians?

No.

No! that's strange.

And murder'd by 'em.

I wou'd be Caesar there. Yet I will live.

Live to be happier.

Do what you will with me.

I'll wait upon you, attend, and serve you.

Well, if the Captain had brought this Prince's Coun∣trey along with him, and wou'd make me Queen of it, I wou'd not have him, after doing so base a thing.

He's a man to thrive in the world, Sister: He'll make you the better Jointure.

H•ng him, nothing can prosper with him.

Enquire into the great Estates, and you will find most of 'em depend upon the same Title of Honesty: The men who raise 'em first are much of the Captain's Principles.

Ay, ay, as you say, let him be damn'd for the good of his Family. Come, Sister, we are invited to dinner.

Stanmore, You dine with me.

THis is so great a Favour, I don't know how to re∣ceive it.

O dear Sir! you know how to receive and how to re∣turn a Favour, as well as any body, I don't doubt it: 'Tis not the first you have had from our Sex, I suppose.

But this is so unexpected.

Lord, how can you say so, Mr. Welldon? I won't believe you. Don't I know you handsome Gentlemen expect every thing that a Woman can do for you? And by my troth you're in the right on't: I think one can't do too much for a Handsome Gentleman; and so you shall find it.

I shall never have such an Offer again, that's certain: What shall I do? I am mightily divided.—

There's no danger of that, Mrs. Lackitt. I am divided in my thoughts. My Father upon his Death-bed oblig'd me to Page  18 see my Sister dispos'd of, before I married my self. 'Tis that sticks upon me. They say indeed Promises are to be broken or kept; and I know 'tis a foolish thing to be tied to a Promise; but I can't help it: I don't know how to get rid of it.

Is that all?

All in all to me. The Commands of a dying Fa∣ther, you know, ought to be obey'd.

And so they may.

Impossible, to do me any good.

They shan't be your hindrance. You wou'd have a Husband for your Sister, you say: He must be very well to pass too in the world, I suppose?

I wou'd not throw her away.

Then marry her out of hand to the Sea-Captain you were speaking of.

I was thinking of him, but 'tis to no purpose: She hates him.

Does she hate him? Nay, 'tis no matter, an Impu∣dent Rascal as he is, I wou'd not advise her to marry him.

Can you think of no body else?

Let me see.

Ay, pray do: I shou'd be loth to part with my good fortune in you for so small a matter as a Sister: But you find how it is with me.

Well remembred, I'saith: Well, if I thought you wou'd like of it, I have a Husband for her: What do you think of my Son?

You don't think of it your self.

I protest but I do: I am in earnest, if you are. He shall marry her within this half hour, if you ll give your con∣sent to it.

I give my consent! I'll answer for my Sister, she shall have him: You may be sure I shall be glad to get over the difficulty.

No more to be said then, that difficulty is over. But I vow and swear you frightned me, Mr. Welldon. If I had not had a Son now for your Sister, what must I have done, do you think? Were not you an ill natur'd thing to boggle at a Promise? I cou'd break twenty for you.

I am the more oblig'd to you: But this Son will save all.

He's in the house; I'll go and bring him my self.

You wou'd do well to break the business to your Sister: She's within, I ll send her to you.—

Pray do.

But d'you hear? Perhaps she may stand upon her Maidenly Behaviour, and blush, and play the fool, and delay: But don't be answer'd so: What! she is not a Girl at these years: Shew your Authority, and tell her roundly, she must be married immediately. I'll manage my Son, I war∣rant you.—

The Widow's in haste, I see: I thought I had laid a rub in the road, about my Sister: But she has stept over that. She's making way for her self as fast as she can; but little thinks where she is going: I cou'd tell her she is going to play the fool: But people don't love to hear of their faults: Besides, that is not my business at present.

So, Sister, I have a Husband for you.—

With all my heart: I don't know what Confinement Marriage may be to the Men, but I'm sure the Women have no liberty without it. I am for any thing that will deliver me from the care of a Reputation, which I begin to find im∣possible to preserve.

I'll ease you of that care: You must be married im∣mediately.

The sooner the better; for I am quite tir'd of setting up for a Husband. The Widow's foolish Son is the man, I suppose.

I consider'd your Constitution, Sister; and finding you wou'd have occasion for a Fool, I have provided accord∣ingly.

I don't know what occasion I may have for a Fool when I'm married: But I find none but Fools have occasion to marry.

Since he is to be a Fool then, I thought it better for you to have one of his Mother's making than your own; 'twill save you the trouble.

I thank you; you take a great deal of pains for me: But, pray tell me, what are you doing for your self all this while?

You were never true to your own secrets, and there∣fore Page  20 I won't trust you with mine. Only remember this, I am your elder Sister, and consequently laying my Breeches aside, have as much occasion for a Husband as you can have. I have a Man in my eye, be satisfied.

Come, Daniel, hold up thy head, Child: Look like a Man: You must not take it as you have done. Gad's my life! there's nothing to be done with twirling your Hat, Man.

Why, Mother, what's to be done then?

Why look me in the face, and mind what I say to you.

Marry, who's the fool then? what shall I get by minding what you say to me?

Mrs. Lucy, the Boy is bashful, don't discourage him: Pray come a little forward, and let him sa∣lute you.

A fine Husband I am to have truly.

Come, Daniel, you must be acquainted with this Gen∣tlewoman.

Nay, I'm not proud, that is not my fault: I am pre∣sently acquainted when I know the Company; but this Gen∣tlewoman is a stranger to me.

She is your Mistress; I have spoke a good word for you; make her a Bow, and go and kiss her.

Kiss her! Have a care what you say; I warrant she scorns your words. Such Fine Folk are not us'd to be slopt and kiss'd. Do you think I don't know that, Mother?

Is the Devil in the Woman? Why so I can go nearer her, if you would let a body alone.

Cry you mercy, forsooth; my Mother is always shaming one before company: She wou'd have me as unmannerly as her self, and offer to kiss you.

Why, won't you kiss her?

Why, pray, may I?

Kiss her, Kiss her, Man.

Marry, and I will.

Gadsooks! she kisses rarely! An' please you, Mistress, and seeing my Mother Page  21 will have it so, I don't much care if I kiss you again, for∣sooth.

Well, how do you like me now?

Like you! marry, I don't know. You have bewitch'd me, I think: I was never so in my born days before.

You must marry this Fine Woman, Daniel.

Hey day! marry her! I was never married in all my life. What must I do with her then, Mother?

You must live with her, eat and drink with her, go to bed with her, and sleep with her.

Nay, marry, if I must go to bed with her, I shall never sleep, that's certain: She'll break me of my rest, quite and clean, I tell you before-hand. As for eating and drinking with her, why I have a good stomach, and can play my part in any company. But how do you think I can go to bed to a Woman I don't know?

You shall know her better.

Say you so, Sir?

Kiss her again.

Nay, kissing I find will make us presently acquainted. We'll steal into a Corner to practise a little, and then I shall be able to do any thing.

The Young Man mends apace.

Pray don't baulk him.

Mother, Mother, if you'll stay in the room by me, and promise not to leave me, I don't care for once if I venture to go to bed with her.

There's a good Child; go in and put on thy best Cloaths; pluck up a spirit; I'll stay in the room by thee. She won't hurt thee, I warrant thee.

Nay, as to that matter, I'm not afraid of her: I'll give her as good as she brings: I have a Rowland for her Oli∣ver, and so you may tell her.

Mrs Lucy, we shan't stay for you: You are in a rea∣diness, I suppose.

She's always ready to do what I wou'd have her, I must say that for my Sister.

'Twill be her own another day. Mr. Welldon, we'll marry 'em out of hand, and then—

And then, Mrs. Lackitt, look to your self.—

So, Governour, we don't disturb you, I hope: your Mi∣striss has left you: you were making Love, she's thankfull for the Honour, I suppose.

Some of'em, who pretend to be wiser than the rest, and hate her, I suppose, for being us'd better than they are, will needs have it that she's with Child.

But we shall prevent you: bring the Irons hither.

He has the malice of a Slave in him, and wou'd be glad to be cutting his Masters Throats, I know him. Chain his hands and feet, that he may not run over to 'em: if they have him, they shall carry him on their backs, that I can tell 'em.

Away you Brutes: I'll answer with my life for his be∣haviour; so tell the Governour.

Hell, and the Devil! they drive away our Slaves before our Faces. Governour, can you stand tamely by, and suffer this? Clemene, Sir, your Mistriss is among 'em.

These unmannerly Indians were something unseasonable, to disturb us just in the nick, Mr. Weldon: but I have the Par∣son within call still, to doe us the good turn.

We had best stay a little I think, to see things settled agen, had not we? Marriage is a serious thing you know.

What do you talk of a serious thing, Mr. Welldon? I think you have found me sufficiently serious: I have marry'd my Son to your Sister, to pleasure you: and now I come to claim your promise to me, you tell me marriage is a serious thing.

Why, is it not?

Fidle fadle, I know what it is: 'tis not the first time I have been marry'd, I hope: but I shall begin to think, you don't design to do fairly by me, so I shall.

Why indeed, Mrs Lackit, I am afraid I can't do as fair∣ly as I wou'd by you. 'Tis what you must know, first or last; and I shou'd be the worst man in the world to conceal it any longer; therefore I must own to you, that I am marry'd already.

Marry'd! you don't say so I hope! how have you the Conscience to tell me such a thing to my face! have you abus'd me then, fool'd and cheated me? What do you take me for, Mr. Welldon? do you think I am to be serv'd at this rate? but Page  44 you shan't find me the silly creature, you think me: I wou'd have you to know, I understand better things, than to ruine my Son without a valuable consideration. If I can't have you, I can keep my Money. Your Sister shan't have the catch of him, she expected: I won't part with a Shilling to 'em.

You made the match your self, you know, you can't blame me.

I wou'd not have told you now; but you follow'd me so close, I was forc'd to't: indeed I am marry'd in England; but 'tis, as if I were not; for I have been parted from my Wife a great while: and to do reason on both sides, we hate one a∣nother heartily. Now I did design, and will marry you still, if you'll have a little patience.

A likely business truly.

I have a Friend in England that I will write to, to poy∣son my Wife, and then I can marry you with a good Consci∣ence, if you love me, as you say you do; you'll consent to that, I'm sure.

And will he do it, do you think?

At the first word, or he is not the Man I take him to be.

I wou'd do any thing for you.

'Twill be a great while indeed.

In the mean time, Mr. Welldon—

Ay, my Sister is marry'd: and I am very near being run away with my self.

The Widow will have you then.

At half an hours warning.

I must advise with you.

YOU see, honest Jack, I have been industrious for you: you must take some pains now to serve your self.

Gad, Mr. Welldon, I have taken a great deal of pains: And if the Widow speaks honestly, faith and troth, She'll tell you what a pains-taker I am.

'Tis no matter for my knowing all: if she does—

Ay, ay, she does know, and more than ever she knew since she was a woman, for the time; I will be bold to say: for I have done—

The Devil take you, you'll never have done.

As old as she is, she has a wrincle behind more than she had, I believe—

For I have taught her, what she never knew in her life before.

What care I what wrincles she has? or what you have taught her? If you'll let me advise you, you may; if not, you may prate on, and ruine the whole design.

Well, well, I have done.

No body, but your Cozin, and you, and I, know any Page  50 thing of this matter. I have marry'd Mrs. Lackit; and put you to bed to her, which she knows nothing of, to serve you: in two or three days I'll bring it about so, to resign up my claim, with her consent, quietly to you.

But how will you do it?

That must be my business: in the mean time, if you should make any noise, 'twill come to her Ears, and be impossi∣ble to reconcile her.

Nay, as for that, I know the way to reconcile her, I warrant you.

But how will you get her Money? I am marry'd to her.

That I don't know indeed.

You must leave it to me, you find, all the pains I shall put you to, will be to be silent: you can hold your Tongue for two or three days?

Truly, not well, in a matter of this nature: I should be very unwilling to lose the reputation of this nights work, and the pleasure of telling.

You must mortifie that vanity a little: you will have time enough to brag, and lie of your Manhood, when you have her in a bare-fac'd condition to disprove you.

Well, I'll try what I can do: the hopes of her Mo∣ney must do it.

You'll come at night again? 'tis your own business.

But you have the credit on't.

I want to be recruited, I'm sure, a good Breakfast, and to Bed: She has rock'd my Cradle sufficiently.

She wou'd have a Husband; and if all be, as he says, she has no reason to complain: but there's no relying on what the Men say upon these occasions: they have the benefit of their bragging, by recommending their abilities to other Women: theirs is a trading Estate, that lives upon credit, and increases by removing it out of one Bank into another. Now poor Wo∣men have not these opportunities: we must keep our stocks Page  51 dead by us; at home, to be ready for a purchase, when it comes, a Husband, let him be never so dear, and be glad of him: or venture our Fortunes abroad on such rotten security, that the principal and interest, nay very often our persons are in dan∣ger. If the Women wou'd agree (which they never will) to call home their Effects, how many proper Gentlemen wou'd sneak into another way of living, for want of being responsi∣ble in this? then Husbands wou'd be cheaper. Here comes the Widow, she'll tell truth: she'll not bear false Witness against her own interest, I know.

Now, Mrs. Lackit.

Well, well, Lackit, or what you will now; now I am marry'd to you: I am very well pleas'd with what I have done, I assure you.

And with what I have done too, I hope.

Ah! Mr. Welldon! I say nothing, but you're a dear Man, and I did not think it had been in you.

I have more in me than you imagine.

No, no, you can't have more than I imagine: 'tis im∣possible to have more: you have enough for any Woman, in an honest way, that I will say for you.

Then I find you are satisfied.

Satisfied! no indeed; I'm not to be satisfied, with you or without you: to be satisfied, is to have enough of you; now, 'tis a folly to lye: I shall never think I can have enough of you. I shall be very fond of you: wou'd you have me fond of you? What do you do to me, to make me love you so well?

Can't you tell what?

Go; there's no speaking to you: you bring all the Blood of ones body into ones face, so you do: why do you talk so?

Why, how do I talk?

O! most lovingly, most amiably.

The Women will find you out, you look so cheer∣fully.

But do I, do I really look so cheerfully, so amiably? there's no such paint in the World as the natural glowing of a Complexion. Let 'em find me out, if they please, poor Crea∣tures, I pity 'em: they envy me, I'm sure, and wou'd be glad to mend their looks upon the same occasion. The young jil∣flirting Girls, forsooth, believe nobody must have a Husband, but themselves; but I wou'd have 'em to know there are other things to be taken care of, besides their green Sickness:

Ay, sure, or the Physicians wou'd have but little pra∣ctise.

Mr. Welldon, what must I call you: I must have some pretty fond name or other for you: what shall I call you?

I thought you lik'd my own name.

Yes, yes, I like it, but I must have a nick-name for you: most Women have nick-names for their Husbands—

Cuckold.

To be negligent of their Husbands, it is indeed.

Nay then, I won't be in the fashion; for I can never be negligent of dear Mr. Welldon: and to convince you, here's something to encourage you not to be negligent of me.

Five hundred pounds in Gold in this; and Jewels to the value of five hundred pounds more in this.

Ay, marry, this will encourage me indeed.

there are comforts in marrying an elderly Woman, Mr. Welldon. Now a young Woman wou'd have fancy'd she had Page  53 paid you with her person, or had done you the favour.

What do you talk of young Women? you are as young as any of'em, in every thing, but their folly and ignorance.

And do you thing me so? but I have no reason to sus∣pect you. Was not I seen at your house this Morning, do you think?

You may venture again: you'll come at night, I sup∣pose.

O dear! at night? so soon?

Nay, if you think it so soon.

O! no, it is not for that Mr. Welldon, but—

You won't come then.

To please your self.

I will come to please you.

To please your self, own it.

Well, well, to please my self then, you're the stran∣gest Man in the world, nothing can scape you: you'll to the bottom of every thing.

What wou'd you have? what do you follow me for?

Why, may'nt I follow you? I must follow you now all the World over.

Hold you, hold you there: not so far by a mile or two; I have enough of your Company already, byrlady; and some∣thing to spare: you may go home to your Brother, an you will, I have no farther to do with you.

Why, Daniel, Child, thou art not out of thy wits sure, art thou?

How so, Child?

I told you before what wou'd come on't, of putting me to bed to a strange Woman: but you wou'd not be said nay.

She is your Wife now, Child, you must love her.

Why, so I did, at first.

But you must love her always.

Always! I lov'd her as long as I cou'd, Mother, and as long as loving was good, I believe, for I find now I don't care a fig for her.

Why, you lubberly, slovenly, misbegotten Block∣head—

Nay, Mistriss Lucy, say any thing else, and spare not: but as to his begetting, that touches me, he is as honestly be∣gotten, tho' I say it, that he is the worse agen.

I see all good nature is thrown away upon you—

It was so with his Father before him: he takes after him.

And therefore I will use you, as you deserve, you Tony.

Indeed he deserves bad enough; but don't call him out of his name, his name is Daniel, you know.

I will make such a Beast of thee, such a Cuckold!

O, pray, no, I hope; do nothing rashly, Mrs. Lucy.

Such a Cuckold will I make of thee!

I had rather be a Cuckold, than what you wou'd make of me in a week, I'm sure: I have no more Manhood left in me already, than there is, saving the mark, in one of my Mothers old under Petticoats here.

Sirrah, Sirrah, meddle with your Wife's Petticoats, Page  55 and let your Mother's alone, you ungracious Bird, you.

Why is the Devil in the Woman? what have I said now?

Do you know, if you were ask'd, I trow? but you are all of a bundle; ev'n hang together; he that unties you, makes a Rod for his own tail; and so he will find it, that has any thing to do with you.

Ay, Rogue enough, you shall find it: I have a Rod for your Tail still.

No, Wife and I care not.

I'll swinge you into better manners, you Booby.

You have consummated our project upon him.

That you shall, and a large one, I promise you.

Have you heard the news? they talk of an English Ship in the River.

I have heard on't: and am preparing to receive it, as fast as I can.

I can't fail in mine.

So Welldon, Jack has told me his success; and his hopes of marrying the Widow by your means.

So they say, what's the matter?

For my part, I shall do as well as the rest: but I'm concern'd for my Sister, and Cozen, whom I expect in the Ship from England.

There's no danger of 'em.

I have a thousand pounds here, in Gold and Jewels, for my Cozens use, that I wou'd more particularly take care of: 'tis too great a summ to venture at home; and I wou'd not have her wrong'd of it: therefore, to secure it, I think my best way will be, to put it into your keeping.

You have a very good opinion of my honesty.

I have indeed, if any thing shou'd happen to me, in this bustle, as no body is secure of accidents, I know you will take my Cozen into your protection and care.

You may be sure on't.

If you hear she is dead, as she may be, then I desire you to accept of the Thousand Pound, as a Legacy, and Token of my Friendship; my Sister is provided for.

Why, you amaze me: but you are never the nearer dying, I hope, for makeing your Will?

If she be as handsom as her Picture, I can promise her a Husband.

If you like her, when you se• her, I wish nothing so much as to have you marry her your •elf.

From what I have heard of her, and my Engagements to you, it must be her fault, if I don't:

I hope to have her from your own Hand.

And I hope to give her to you, for all this.

I always thought you worth making a Friend.

You shan't find your good Opinion thrown away upon me: I am in your Debt, and shall think so as long as I live.

I fear no Danger: Life, or Death, I will enjoy with you.

My Person is your Guard.

Now, Sir, blame your self: if you had not prevented my Page  58 cutting his Throat, that Coward there had not discover'd us; He comes now to upbraid you.

'TIS strange we cannot hear of him: Can no body give an account of him?

Nay, I begin to despair: I give him for gone.

Not so I hope.

There are so many disturbances in this devilish Coun∣try! Wou'd we had never seen it.

This is but a cold welcome for you, Madam, after so troublesome a Voyage.

They have made him away, Murder'd him for his Mo∣ny, I believe, he took a considerable Sum out with him, I know, that has been his Ruin.

That has done him no Injury, to my knowledge: For this Morning he put into my Custody what you speak of, I suppose a Thousand Pounds, for the use of this Lady.

He gave me a particular charge of you, Madam, very particular, so particular, that you will be surpriz'd when I tell you.

What, pray Sir.

I am engag'd to get you a Husband, I promis'd that be∣fore I saw you; and now I have seen you, you must give me leave to offer you my self.

You hear, Madam, he has given me his Interest, and 'tis the Favour I wou'd have begg'd of him. Lord! you are so like him———

That you are oblig'd to say you like me for his Sake.

I shou'd be glad to love you for your own.

If I shou'd consent to the fine things you can say to me, how wou'd you look at last, to find'em thrown away upon an old Acquaintance?

An old Acquaintance!

Lord, how easily are you Men to be impos'd upon! I am no Cozen newly arriv'd from England, not I; but the very Welldon you wot of.

Welldon!

Not murdered, nor made away, as my Sister wou'd have you believe, but am in very good Health, your old friend in Breeches that was, and now your humble Servant in Petti∣coats.

Can't you tell what?

Not I, by my troth: I have found my Friend, and lost my Mistress, it seems, which I did not expect from your Petti∣coats.

Come, come, you have had a Friend of your Mistress long enough, 'tis high time now to have a Mistress of your Friend.

What do you say?

I am a Woman, Sir.

A Woman!

And at my Service?

If you have any for me in Petticoats.

Yes, yes, I shall find you employment.

You wonder at my proceeding, I believe.

'Tis a little extraordinary, indeed.

I have taken some pains to come into your Favour.

You might have had it cheaper a great deal.

I might have marry'd you in the Person of my English Cozen, but cou'd not consent to cheat you, ev'n in the thing I had a mind to.

'Twas done as you do every thing.

I need not tell you, I made that little Plot, and carry'd it on only for this Opportunity. I was resolv'd to see whether you lik't me as a Woman, or not: if I had found you indiffe∣rent; I wou'd have indeavour'd to have been so too: but you say you like me, and therefore I have ventur'd to discover the truth.

Like you! I like you so well, that I'm afraid you won't think Marriage a proof on't: shall I give you any other?

No, no, I'm inclin'd to believe you, and that shall convince me. At more leisure I'le satisfie you how I came to be in Mans Cloaths, for no ill I assure you, tho' I have happen'd to play the Rogue in 'em: They have assisted me in marrying my Sister, and have gone a great way in befriending your Cozen Jack with the Widow. Can you forgive me for pimping for your Family?

So, Jack, what News with you?

Say you so, Sir?

So, Mrs. Lucy, I have brought him about agen, I have Chastis'd him, I have made him as supple as a Glove for your wearing, to pull on, or throw off, at your pleasure. Will you ever Rebell again? Will you, Sirrah? But come, come, down on your Marrow Bones, and ask her forgiveness. [Daniel Kneels. Say after me, pray forsooth Wife.

Pray forsooth Wife.

Well, well, this is a Day of good Nature, and so I take you into Favour: But first take the Oath of Allegiance.

If ever you do so agen—

Nay Marry if I do, I shall have the worst on't.

Here's a Stranger, forsooth, wou'd be glad to be known to you, a Sister of mine, pray salute her.

Your Sister! Mrs. Lucy! what do you mean? This is your Brother, Mr. Weldon; do you think I do not know Mr. Weldon?

Fiddle faddle, what! You wou'd put a trick upon me.

No faith, Widow, the Trick is over, it has taken suffi∣ciently, and now I will teach you the Trick, To prevent your being Cheated another time.

How! Cheated, Mr. VVeldon!

Why, ay, you will always take things by the wrong Handle, I see you will have me Mr. VVeldon: I grant you, I was Mr. VVeldon a little while to please you, or so: But Mr. Stan∣more here has perswaded me into a Woman agen.

Really a Woman.

Gads my Life! I could not be cheated in every thing: I know a Man from a Woman at these Years, or the De∣vil's in't. Pray, did not you marry me?

You wou'd have it so.

And did not I give you a Thousand Pounds this Morning?

Yes indeed, 'twas more than I deserv'd: But you had your Penniworth for your Penny, I suppose: You seem'd to be pleas'd with your Bargain.

A rare Bargain I have made on't, truly. I have laid out my Money to fine purpose upon a Woman.

You wou'd have a Husband, and I provided for you as well as I cou'd.

Yes, yes, you have provided for me.

And you have paid me very well for't, I thank you.

'Tis very well; I may be with Child too, for ought I know, and may go look for the Father.

I have nothing else for it, that I know now.

For my part, Mrs. Lackit, your Thousand Pounds will Engage me not to laugh at you. Then my Sister is Married to your Son, he is to have half your Estate, I know; and indeed they may live upon it, very comfortably to themselves, and very creditably to you.

Nay, I can blame no body but my self.

Is he the Man then?

He is the Man you are oblig'd to.

Yes, Faith, Widow, I am the Man: I have done fairly by you, you find, you know what you have to trust to before hand.

Well, well, I see you will have me, ev'n Marry me, and make an end of the business.

Why, that's well said, now we are all agreed, and all provided for.

Sir, Mr. Blandford desires you to come to him, and bring as many of your Friends as you can with you.

I come to him. You'l all go along with me. Come, young Gentleman, Marriage is the fashion, you see, you must like it now.

If I don't, how shall I help my self?

Never mind 'em, Governour; he ought to be made an Example for the good of the Plantation.

Ay, ay, 'twill frighten the Negroes from Attempt∣ing the like agen.

No, no more he is. Therefore, one and all, Gover∣nour, we declare for Hanging.

Ay, ay, hang him, hang him.

What! Hang him! O! forbid it, Governour.

We all Petition for him.

They are for a Holy-Day; Guilty or not, Is not the Business, hanging is their Sport.

Come, come, You'l be as good as your Word, we know.

No, no, I brought her home at first indeed; but I thought it wou'd not look well to keep her here: I remov'd her in the Hurry, only to take care of her. What! she belongs to you: I have nothing to do with her.

Why, Faith, I can't say certainly: you'll hear of her at Parham House, I suppose: there, or thereabouts: I think I sent her there.