Love without interest, or, The man too hard for the master a comedy : as it was acted at the Theatre Royal by His Majesty's servants.

SCENE II.

Enter Truelove leading Honoria.

Tru.

By all those Charms that captivate my Soul, By the sweet Torture of my longing Mind, Explain this Riddle that confounds my Senses: Your Eyes, your Actions, nay, your Words speak Love; Yet when I press to ratify our Vows, You blush, and sigh, and weep me a Denial. Can I give further Proofs of my Affection?

Hon.

No, you're too generous to an injur'd Maid, Whose only Portion's Misery and Ruine; Misery so great, 't has left me void of means To make you a return more suitable or just, Than by refusal: Heaven knows how dear it costs me To involve you in my Ruine.

Tru.

Cruelly kind, I see, instead of valluing The Generosity you seem so much to prize; You tax me with base Avarice, Avarice worse than Misers, Who, if presented with a precious Jemm, Would not stand gazing, if 'twere set in Gold, But instantly with grateful thanks accepts it.

Hon.

True, Sir; but mine is of so mean a Lustre, That by Possession, when you've view'd it well, Without a Foil, you'll scarce think it worth the wearing.

Tru.

There you mistake me, Dear; for by my Love, A Heart, like yours, shews fairest when unset; There's no Defect in that, no Fault, no Flaw, No Blemish, that requires the Artists Hand to help it.

Hon.

Thou more than Man, Take all my Vows, with Heaven my Wishes share; But till that Heaven I daily do implore Betters my Fate, I beg you'd press no more.

Tru.

A lasting Shame on that Barbarians Hand,

Who from the Teeming Womb of's Mother Earth First forc'd to light that glittering damning Pelf; Money, the scorn of noble generous Minds, The venom'd Hook that strikes inglorious Souls, The petty Grain, which put i'th' guilty Scales, Turns 'em 'gainst Virtue, Loyalty, and Honour; And an Eternal Curse on him that rates His Love so low, to barter it for Gold: No, generous Love is like a matchless Pearl, Not to be purchas'd by the massie Toy: The like alone can make the just Exchange, And the true Price of Love is only Love: Mine you possess, with yours I think I'm blest; Let not that Bliss destroy my Happiness.

Hon.

Forbear to urge, but too too well belov'd, This needless, fruitless, dismal Argument, Your Words, your Deeds, have such a glorious Lustre, They've quite amaz'd and dazled my weak Senses; Yet while my Honour and Gratitude remain, I'll still be just, still love, and still deny.

Enter Jinny.

Jinny.

Oh Madam Honoria, I've been seeking you all the House over: Here's my Master has been babling for you this half hour: For my part, I believe he is running Mad, he keeps such a Quarter.

Hon.

Why, what's the matter? Has he lost any Money lately?

Jinny.

Not that I know of, Madam; but I'm mightily mistaken, or he has got a Mistress, and that may be as bad on all sides.

Hon.

A Mistress!

Tru.

Aside.

What disconsolate Scavingers Relict can this be?

Jinny.

I think so, Madam; she came with Mr. Wildman; he calls her Cou∣sin Eugenia.

Tru.

Aside.

Eugenia and Wildman Cousins! I thought they had been nearer related.

Jenny.

Lately come out of the Country, I vow, Madam: I dare lay my Maidenhead, if my Master holds on his rate, if she don't return very speedily, she's like to leave hers behind her, and follow the Example of her Prede∣cessors.

Tru.

Aside.

Gamester-like, would slur that off in a Bett, she's afraid won't pass currant in a Bargain.

Hon.

Surely you surprize me?

Jinny.

Nay, Madam, that's not all; there's Mr. Wildman e'en as sweet up∣on your Sister. I must confess she keeps him somewhat more at a distance, than t'other does my Master. Alas, these Country Ladies are the kindest Creatures—

Tru.

Aloud.

Ha, ha, ha.

Hon.

Bless me, Sir, whence this Alteration!

Tru.

From that which will cause, if I mistake not, the like in you. But to your Post, and take this Word of Advice: Our Fortunes may in all probability

depend on Eugenia; therefore use her with respect, promote your Uncle's Af∣fection, and leave me alone for the rest.

For when a Miser once gives up his Heart, With all the rest he easily does part.

Hon:

My Obedience shall shew my Love: So Prosperity and my best Wishes attend you.

And to encourage you, and end our Strife, Find me a Fortune, I'll find you a Wife.

Exit Truelove. As Honoria is going out, Enter Letitia, who stops her.

Let.

O Sister, I arrest you in the Name of Cupid: One moments Audience for Love's sake. I come from this same Master mine to be; you know who I mean, I see; prithee, what kind of Creature, what do'st think of him?

Hon.

Mr. Wildman, I suppose, you mean.

Let.

Ay, ay; who else coud'st imagin? But once more, What kind of Crea∣ture do'st take him to be?

Hon.

Why, a Man; and if by the little Acquaintance I have with him I may guess, bating some Flights which Youth may excuse, and Slaunder en∣crease, except my Trulove, inferiour to few or none.

Let.

Nay, as for that matter, I strongly suspect he's no Novice in the World. But, 'twixt you and I, I like a Journeyman ne'er the worse, for having serv'd a Prentiship to his Trade, so he but mind my Business when I take him to me, I shall ne'er fall a reaping up of old Trespasses done in Strangers Inclosures. As for your Comparison, Faith, you might have spar'd it; I think Mr. Wildman as good a Man as your Trulove, as you call him.

Hon.

Prithee, why?

Let.

somewhat hastily.

Prithee, why not?

Hon.

Nay, no Passion, Sister; Sir Novelty says 'tis a Mortal Enemy to the Complexion. Let Reason take place; I'll give you these: First, Whether he loves you as my Trulove me, is a question—

Let.

Which is more than I can resolve. However, if a Man be to be believ'd by his Words, he's not far short; and the hindmost Dog, you know, may chance to be first in with the Hare. As for my part, I love Mr. Wildman as well as you your Trulove; so you may tell him; if it be but neatly done, you'll pleasure me. However, I'm resolv'd to have a Course or two with him 'fore he snaps me up, an't be but to shew him the difference 'twixt my self and I know who; tho' perhaps he may have no great need of a Whet. But all's one, I'm resolv'd to venture my Maidenhead with my Affection, and go Super∣cargo of my own Goods.

Hon.

Your Resolution shews your Discretion, and seems to me a happy Au∣gury of our better Fortunes.

Fortune's a Goddess, scorns the limmed Slave, But Loves, Caresses, Crowns the Soul that's brave.

Exeunt omnes.

The End of the First ACT.