Sir Antony Love, or, The rambling lady a comedy as it is acted at the Theatre-Royal by Their Majesties servants / written by Tho. Southerne.

Enter Sir Antony Love, and Wait-well following him.

Sir Ant.

WELL, Governour, I think I have Atchiev'd, under thy Con∣duct, as considerable a Character in as short a time—

Wait.

Nay, you come on amain.

Sir Ant.

And, though I say it, have done as much—

Wait.

And suffer'd as much.

Sir Ant.

For the Credit of my Country men, and the Reputation of a Whoremaster, as the erran'st Rake-hell of 'em all.

Wait.

You're a pretty Proficient indeed, and so perfectly act the Cavalier, that cou'd you put on our Sex with your Breeches, o' my Conscience, you wou'd carry all the Women before you.

Sir Ant.

And drive all the Men before me; I am for Universal Empire, and wou'd not be stinted to one Province; I wou'd be fear'd, as well as lov'd:

As famous for my Action with the Men, As for my Passion for the Women.

Wait.

You're in the way to't; you change your Men as often as you do your Women; and have every day a new Mistress, and a new Quarrel.

Sir Ant.

Why, 'tis only the Fashion of the World, that gives your Sex a better Title than we have, to the wearing a Sword; my constant Exercise with my Fencing Master, and Conversation among Men, who make little of the matter, have at last not only made me adroit, but despise the Danger of a Quarrel too.

Wait.

A Lady-like Reputation, truly. But how preposterously Fortune places her Favours, when no body is the better for 'em.

Sir Ant.

Why how now, Governour?

Wait.

She seldom gives a Man an Estate, who has either the Conscience or Youth to enjoy it—

Sir Ant.

But he may leave it to one who has.

Wait.

An honest Man might be thankful for half your Fortune with the Women. But what pleasure can you find in following 'em?

Sir Ant.

The same that some of the Men find.

Wait.

You can't enjoy 'em.

Sir Ant.

But I may make 'em ready for those who can.

Wait.

Are there such Sports-men?

Sir Ant.

Very many, who beat about more for Company, than the plea∣sure of the Sport; and if they do start any thing, are better pleas'd with the accidents of the Chase, the Hedges, and Ditches, than the close Pursuit of the Game; and these are sure never to come into the Quarry.

Wait.

This is so like you now: Why Love shou'd be your business; and you make a business of your Love: You are young and handsome in Petticoats; yet are contented to part with the Pleasures of your own Sex, to ramble into the Troubles of ours. In my Opinion, you might be better employ'd.

Sir Ant.

I do it to be better employ'd; to recommend me to Valentine, for whose dear sake I first engag'd in the Adventure; robb'd my Keeper, that nauseous Fool Golding, of Five hundred Pounds, and under thy Discretion, came a Collonelling after him here into France.

Wait.

Why do you lose time then? Why don't you tell him so?

Sir Ant.

Thou wou'dst have had me, with the true Conduct of an English Mistress, upon the first inclination, cloy'd him with my Person, without any assurance of his relishing me; enough to raise his Appetite to a second taste: No, now I am sure he likes me; and likes me so well in a Man, he'll love me in a Woman; and let him make the Discovery if he dares.

Wait.

Let me 〈…〉〈…〉.

Sir Ant.

To the Lodgings you shall; those I saw, and lik't; they're Private, and Convenient, make 'em ready; I'll tell thee all anon— And do you hear— my Female Wardrobe too must be produc'd, my Womans Equi∣page—

[Wait-well going.]

For as the Conduct of Affairs now goes, I'm best disguis'd in my own Sex, and Cloaths. Hey, I had forgot; bring me the Fifty Pieces I spoke of, the Five hundred are in good Health yet, Governour.

Wait.

But sicken at that sound.

Sir Ant.

Valentine and Ilford are disappointed of their Bills, and in spite of their good Estates want Money; now, tho' I lend upon the old considera∣tion of borrowing a greater Sum, Fifty Pieces are convenient.

Wait.

And will be welcome to 'em at this time—

Sir Ant.

Most certainly; and take this along with you, Governour; You must make your Conversation necessary sometimes, as well as agreeable, to preserve a Friendship with an English-man.

Enter Valentine and Ilford.

Val.

How's this, Sir Antony? under the Discipline of your Governour, and his Wisdom, this Morning?

Sir Ant.

Like a good Christian, Valentine, clearing old Accounts, that I may begin a new Score, with a better Conscience.

Ilf.

Confessing, and repenting past Enormities—

Sir Ant.

About the pitch of thy Piety, Ilford, repenting only, because they are past.

Val.

So far you may repent with Honour.

Sir Ant.

Nay, I Confess my self a Child of this World; for at this mo∣ment

I have a Hint from my Constitution, that tells me the pleasure of thy Example—

Val.

Thou art above Example, or Imitation—

Sir Ant.

Will go near to overthrow the Wisdom of his Precepts; the Mo∣rality of thy Beard, Governour—

Wait.

But, Sir, it wou'd be well.

Sir Ant.

It wou'd be better, Sir, thou pitiful Preacher, wou'dst thou but follow thy Pimping; 'tis a better Trade, and becomes thy Discretion as well: You'll find me hereabouts—

Trusts out Wait-well.

Val.

You have Compounded for Whoring then, Sir Antony?

Sir Ant.

Any thing but Fighting; he has swing'd me away for my Quarrel yesterday i'th' Tennis-Court.

Ilf.

You deserv'd to be swing'd for't—

Val.

I shou'd chide you too, though 'twas upon my account.

Ilf.

To run a Gentleman thro' the Arm, for not witnessing all you said in Commendation of Valentine—

Val.

When he was not so much as acquainted with my Person—

Ilf.

Was—

Sir. Ant.

Something more bold than welcome, I grant you; but I had not fought a great while, my hand was in, and I was pushing at Reputation. For, I Gad, I look upon Courage to proceed more from Habit and Practice, than any Virtue of the Mind.

Val.

How 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Sir Anthony 〈…〉〈…〉 something in Family 〈◊〉〈◊〉—

Sir Ant.

Wooden Legs, in a great many, Valentine.

Ilf.

Courage often runs in a Blood—

Sir Ant.

They say so of the Pox, indeed. The Sins of the Fathers may run in the Blood sometimes, and visit the third and fourth Generation: But their Virtues dye with the Men. And if the Example, and Custom of the World (supported by good eating and drinking) had not infus'd a nobler Spi∣rit into the Blood, than any deriv'd from the Father; most Men had conti∣nu'd like those, who stay with their Fathers; Elder Brothers all; and had never offer'd at an Intrigue, above a red Petticoat; or a Quarrel, above a Rubber at Cuffs.

Ilf.

'Tis sensibly extravagant, and wild!

Val.

Inimitably new! But how do you to avoid Drinking?

Sir Ant.

Why that avoids me, thanks to the Custom of the Countrey, and the better Diversions of this Place; not but I can arrive at a Bottle too.

Ilf.

If you were in London—

Sir Ant.

There I grant you— Where the young Fellows begin the Re∣putation of their Humour and Wit in a Pint Glass, carrying 'em, without intermission of sense or jest, to the end of the third Bottle; and then thro' the publick places, and folly of the Town.

Val.

There you wou'd be at a loss.

Sir Ant.

I shou'd indeed; where they go to Taverns, to swallow a Drunken∣ness; and then to a Play, to talk over their Liquor.

Ilf.

I thought that folly fell off with their Fathers—

Val.

The Entertainment of it did indeed.

Ilf.

Who, as they began it in their Frolick, supported it in their Wit.

Sir Ant.

And since the Sons are so plainly disinherited of the Sense, they have no Title to the Sins of their Fathers.

Val.

Unless they kept 'em more in Countenance.

Ilf.

Yet they would do something, like their Fathers.

Val.

As an ignorant Player in England, whom I saw undertaking to Copy a Master Actor of his time; began at his Infirmity in his Feet; and growing famous for the imitation of his Gout, he cou'd walk like him, when he cou'd do nothing else like him.

Sir Ant.

The Gout, and the Pox take him for't—

Ilf.

And all those, I say, who, only from their Opinion of themselves, are encourag'd to meddle in other Men's matters, without ever bringing any thing about of their own.

Sir Ant.

Aye, those medling Fools, Ilford! who are in all places, yet ever out of their way—

Ilf.

And not only out of their own way, but always in other Mens—

Sir Ant.

And still as ridiculous as a Fellow of thy Severity and Reserve wou'd be in the fantastical Figure of a Lover.

Ilf.

Whoever has the Woman; you have your Wit, Sir Antony—

Sir Ant.

They go together, Sir— You'll find it so.

Enter a Pilgrim.

Val.

Whom have we here?

Sir Ant.

A 〈…〉〈…〉about him!

Val.

One of that travelling Tribe, without their Circumcision.

Sir Ant.

Of Christian Appellation, a Pilgrim.

Val.

'Tis a senseless Constitution of Men!

Sir Ant.

Who make themselves Mad, to make the rest of the World Fools, by finding a Faith for all their Fopperies.

Val.

How can they pass upon the World?

Sir Ant.

As other Constitutions, and Orders of Men as senseless, pass; that are founded too in as much Cozenage and Roguery as this can be.

Ilf.

You are an Enemy of Forms, Sir Antony.

Sir Ant.

Oh, Sir, the Virtue of the Habit often covers the Vices of the Man: There's Field enough in England to find this in, without the Abby-lands, Gentlemen.

Ilf.

Weeds are the general growth of every Soil.

Val.

How many Fools in the State, and Atheists in the Church, carry them∣selves currant thro' their Congregations and Clients, to great Emyloyments; and, being arm'd only with the Authority and Countenance of their Cloathing, secure themselves from the discovery and sensure of the Court and Town?

Sir Ant.

These are Disguises, I grant you, worth a sensible Man's putting on; but a Pilgrim's Habit is as ridiculous as his Pretence; and I wou'd no more wear a Fools Coat, to be thought devout; than be devout for the sake of the Livery.

Ilf.

Fools are the Guts of all Churches, and make the Bulk of every Opi∣nion.

Exit Pilgrim.

Val.

Hang him, let him pass; spare him for the sake of the Church, and spare the Church for the sake of our Abbe.

Sir Ant.

Who is, indeed, a most considerable Pillar of it, to his own profit, and our pleasurable living in this Town.

Ilf.

He is a very Pope in Mompelier, the Head here—

Sir Ant.

And a fit Head he is for such sinful Members as we are.

Ilf.

We Members! You are a Protestant, Sir Antony.

Sir Ant.

You may be surly enough to tell 'em you are one; but I am al∣ways of the Religion of the Government I am in—

Val.

And of the Women you converse with, Knight.

Sir Ant.

And when I can't convince 'em, I conform.

Ilf.

A very civil Character of a fashionable Conscience.

Val.

Of a sensible Man, I think: Why must your Capacity be the Mea∣sure of another Man's Understanding? And all Men be in the wrong, who don't dance i'th' Circle of your Thoughts?

Sir Ant.

Every Man a Villain, or a Fool, who does not fall into your Notion of things?

Val.

No Opinion ever sprung out of an Universal Consent; Truth can no more be comprehended, than Beauty: We have our several Reasons for the one, and Fancies for the other. And as Beauty has not the same influence upon all Complexions; so Reason has not the same Force upon all Under∣standings: We embrace what pleases us in both, secure our selves in a proba∣bility, and guess out the rest.

Sir Ant.

Ilford is one of those Fellows, whom if you divide from in one thing, will never close with you in any. Tho the Abbe and you do differ about the way to Heav'n, you may go to the Devil together, I warrant you.

Val.

However wide we may be from his Opinion of t'other World, I'm sure he joyns with us in our Opinion of this.

Sir Ant.

For my part, I regard the Man, not his Religion; and if he does my Business in this World, let him do his own in the next.

Ilf.

Nay, Gentlemen, I have as honourable an Opinion of the Abbe, as you can have: I know there's nothing to be done without him—

Sir Ant.

That the Conversation of the best Families in Mompelier runs thro' his Reformation—

Ilf.

That some of our Fortunes—

Sir Ant.

All our Fortunes—

Ilf.

Yours particularly with Floreante, at present depending upon his Fa∣vour, against the Authority of her Father—

Val.

And the Quality of my Rival, Count Verole.

Sir Ant.

No Dancings, no Balls, no Masquerades, in a sweet Circle of Society, as it has been, from one Good House to another, without his In∣troduction and Gravity to qualifie the Scandal.

Val.

Substantial Reasons for our Respect.

Ilf.

Weighty Motives all for our Attendance.

Sir Ant.

Are they so, Sir? No more of your Protestant then, if you wou'd not be damn'd for a Heretick, by the Women in a Catholick Countrey.

Val.

We shou'd ha' been at our Patron's Levy, Gentlemen.

Sir Ant.

He'll bate us us the Ceremony: You're going to visit him?

Val.

You must along with us.

Sir Ant.

I'll follow you.

Val.

You are his Favourite; we are no body without you—

Ilf.

The support of our interest with him.

Sir Ant.

Business, Business, Gentlemen.

Val.

Pox o' your Business—

Ilf.

'Twill end in that—prithee let him go; a Whore I warrant you— Whore; more prostituted too, to Knaves and Fools: Yet my grave Friend, you'll have a share in both, or I mistake your Nature.

Val.

You are answer'd.

Ilf.

Indeed my little Friend is so far right, Money, and Whore, make one anothers use; either is dull alone.

Enter Pilgrim.

Val.

This Pilgrim here again!

Sir Ant.

He follows us; what wou'd he have?

Pilg.

Your Charity, good Gentlemen.

Sir Ant.

Prithee leave us; there's Charity in my Advice to thee, not to lose thy labour; besides, we are English-men; and never think of the Poor out of our own Parish.

Val.

Nor there neither, but according to Law, and when we cannot help it.

Ilf.

Charity is a Free-will-Offering, and we part with nothing we can keep, I assure you—

Val.

Not so much as our sins.

Ilf.

Especially at this time—

Sir Ant.

Unless it be to live upon 'em.

Pilg.

Alas! what pity 'tis, that Gentlemen so much in debt—

Sir Ant.

That we shall never pay—

Pilg.

To Heaven—

Sir Ant.

And other Creditors.

Pilg.

Of Youth so sweet, of Form so excellent—

Sir Ant.

You or me, Ilford? Who does he mean?

Pilg.

So finish'd, by the great Creator's Hand, I worship him in thee.

To Sir Antony.

Ilf.

As thou do'st the King's Picture in his Coyn—

Val.

In hopes of getting by it.

Pilg.

You are so fashion'd—

Sir Ant.

For a Sinner.

Pilg.

And by Natures Hand design'd—

Sir Ant.

A Whoremaster.

Pilg.

You can't want—

Sir Ant.

Women? No, Pilgrim, I shan't want 'em, in thy Acquaintance, I'm sure.

Pilg.

You can't want Grace, the Beauty of the Soul, the Accomplishment of Virtue to the work: You can't wan't Chairty; for Charity is call'd our Gratitude to Heav'n—

Ilf.

You call it so.

Pilg.

You would not be Ungrateful?

Sir Ant.

I wou'd not be a Fool, nor imagine such an Ass as thou art cou'd ever be Commission'd, a' God's Name, to collect the Revenues of this World—

Val.

Nor to Convert (those Deodands of Devotion) the publick Charita∣ble Endowments of Bigotted, or Dying Fools, to the private Luxury of your own Lazy Tribe.

Ilf.

We build no Churches, Pilgrim, nor found Hospitals, but in our own Countrey; nor there neither, but to Father our own Bastards.

Sir Ant.

Your Mendicant Women-Saints, we allow off indeed: All our Charity runs thro' their Devotion.

Val.

Soft little Hands become an Offering, and those we often fill.

Pilg.

Are you so lost.

Ilf.

To all that thou can'st say.

Sir Ant.

Thy Godliness may Convert others, tho' it does nothing upon us.

Pilg.

What can I do for you?

Sir Ant.

Pimp for us.

Pilg.

I will Pray for you.

Sir Ant.

Do't in a Corner alone then,

[Thrusts him out.]

Be as Godly as thou wou't by thy self; and leave us to our Devotions.

Pilg.

I may joyn with you in yours, before I have done; the Abbe won't fail me.

Exit Pilgrim.

Sir Ant.

I have my hands full, Gentlemen; but my Trade is settled, my Correspondence easie, my Factors employ'd, and my Returns will be quick.

Val.

Pray make 'em so; and come as soon as you can to us.

Sir Ant.

I sail with every wind, in the Teeth of Fortune sometimes.

Val.

Have a care of being bit, Sir Antony.

Sir Ant.

I 〈…〉〈…〉 older Sinner. Valentine I warrant you—

Exit Sir Antony.

Ilf.

You may venture him: He has nothing to lose, that I know of, but his Youth; and that wonnot long support the expence of the life he leads.

Val.

He loses no time, indeed.

Ilf.

But misemploys a great deal, in my Opinion.

Val.

Youth will have its Sallies.

Ilf.

The Sallies of his Youth will sooner lead him to Repentance and the Pox, than to his Mannor of Love-dale, as he calls it.

Val.

His Mansion-house in Glocestershire.

Ilf.

His Castle in the Air, which no Man ever heard of, till he was pleas'd to fancy, and Christen it, for the Seat of his Family.

Val.

Then you don't believe him a Barronet, of twelve hundred pounds a year, under Age, and upon an Allowance for his Travel, from his Guardians?

Ilf.

I believe he may have been some Court Page, spoil'd first by the Con∣fidance of his Lady, in knowing her Secrets; then coming early into the iniquity of the Town, by the merit of his Person, and impudence, has since made a fashionable Livelihood, out of Women and Fools.

Val.

I don't know who he is, or wat he has: If he be no Knight, he's a pretty Fellow, and that's better: And if he has not Twelve Hundred Pounds a Year, he deserves it, and does not want it: Which is more than you can say of most of your Knights, that have that Estate, I'm sure.

Ilf.

Nay, that I grant you too.

Val.

He lives as like a Gentleman, has all things as well about him; is as much respected by the Men, and better receiv'd by the Women, than any of us.

Ilf.

He's a pretty Womans Man indeed.

Val.

And a merry Man's Man too, Sir; for you must own, he has a great deal of Wit.

Ilf.

Pretty good Natural Parts, I confess; but a Fool has the keeping 'em, no Judgment in the World; and what he says, comes as much by chance—

Val.

As Epicurus's World did; Perfect, and Uniform, without a Design.

Ilf.

He flies too much at random to please any Man of Discretion.

Val.

There is indeed the Quarrel of Twelve Years difference, between thy Discretion, and his Wit. He may live up to thy Discretion, George, but we shall neither of us arrive at his Wit.

Ilf.

How long will his Wit support him?

Val.

That must be his Care, and not our Business: I never examine any man's Pockets, that is not troublesome to mine.

Ilf.

If he be not troublesome, his Necessities may throw him upon some scandalous Action—

Val.

That may require thy Bailing him?

Ilf.

That may reflect upon us.

Val.

O! thou wer't always tender of thy Reputation, when thou wer't to pay for the Scandal, I'll say that for thee, Ilford: But if want of Money be a Crime; Heav'n help the guilty: We are disappointed of our Bills at present too.

Ilf.

But we have Letters of Credit, and may use 'em upon occasion.

Val.

And 〈…〉〈…〉, which he may use too, upon Oc∣casion; for I am so far from apprehending he may, that I am resolv'd he shall want nothing I can oblige him in, Pocket or Person.

Ilf.

O! Sir, you need not doubt his giving you an opportunity of shewing your Gallantry in that part of your Friendship; he'll borrow Money of you, warrant you.

Val.

And he shall have it, tho' I borrow it for him. But, Sir, you had not always this slight Opinion of Sir Antony.

Ilf.

I did not always know him.

Walking off.

Val.

Nor he the Abbe's Niece.

Ilf.

I found him out but lately.

Val.

For your Rival.

Ilf.

His Vanity, Extravagance, and general Pretension to Women, are in∣tolerable—

Val.

Especially when the gayety of that Humour is likely to get the better of your formality, in Volante's esteem: He is your Rival.

Ilf.

My Rival!

Val.

And I don't wonder, you don't like him.

Ilf.

He's a general Undertaker, indeed; and in that part of his Conversa∣tion, is as impertinent to the Women, as in other things he is troublesome to the Men: So I think it wou'd be our common good Fortune to get rid of him.

Val.

I am not of your mind: And here he comes to convince you.

Enter Sir Antony.

Sir Ant.

Just as I left you! You scorn to stir an inch out of your quality, to put your selves in the way of Fortune, tho' you know her to be blind.

Val.

You meet her at every turn, Sir Antony.

Sir Ant.

She must come home to you to be welcome.

Ilf.

When do you bring her home?

Sir Ant.

But you may be sullen, and sour, domineer, threaten your Stew∣ards, and talk loud at a Disappointment; you are in possession, Gentlemen:

Enter Wait-well with a Purse.

My Guardians won't be so serv'd: My Governour teaches me to provide a∣gainst Accidents: What I want of my Age, I must supply with my Diligence.

Wait-well gives him the Purse.

Ilf.

And have your labour for your pains.

Sir Ant.

I can take pains, Sir, and the profit of my pains, Sir; Fifty pieces in a Morning, Sir, the price of my pains, and give the Lady a penni∣worth into the Bargain.

Ilf.

How! Fifty Pieces?

Val.

From a Woman, Sir Antony?

Sir Ant.

Nothing, Sir, a trifle.

Val.

Your Mistress pays like a Widow—

Sir Ant.

That had lost her Youth upon a Husband, and the hopes of a Joynture—

Ilf.

And just deliver'd, wou'd redeem the folly of the past, by the enjoy∣ment of what's to come—

Val.

In a sober Resolution, of making the price of her pennance, the pur∣chase of her pleasure—

Sir Ant.

By refunding upon a young Fellow, what she had wheadl'd from an old one.

Ilf.

I warrant her old, and ugly, by her Pension.

Sir Ant.

She's young enough to be a Maid, handsome enough to be a Mi∣stress, cunning enough to be a Wife, and rich enough to be a Widow.

Val.

Faith, she comes down—

Sir Ant.

Deeper than I can, I assure you.

Ilf.

She pays well, I'll say that for her.

Sir Ant.

And is well— I'll say that for her.

Val.

And does every thing well.

Sir Ant.

You wou'd say that for her, Valentine? And she does every thing well; that way she is a Widow, I promise you.

Ilf.

Take us into your Assistance.

Val.

We are Friends, and will stand by you.

Ilf.

We are out of Employment that way—

Val.

And wou'd Journey-work under you.

Sir Ant.

Any thing to be wicked, Gentlemen: But, Ilford, thou art honou∣rably in Love, and hast it too much in thy head, to have it any where else. Besides, she's so much of my humour, she'll never relish thine.

Val.

She must not go out of our Family.

Sir Ant.

She's handsome and convenient; as able to answer all our wants, as all we are to satisfie the importunity of hers.

Val.

Well; I am satisfy'd, I am her Man.

Sir Ant.

Or any Woman's Man, who wants to be satisfy'd.

Val.

She must like me, for being of her Opinion, in liking thee.

Sir Ant.

That indeed may do something, and time may bring it about: In short, this is the English Lady you have heard me speak of: I allow her the favour of my Person; and she allows me the freedom of her Purse: And I am glad I command it so luckily, to answer the Occasions of my Friends.

Ilf.

You can command nothing we can have occasion for.

Val.

By your Pardon, Sir, you may be too proud to be oblig'd; but I have occasion for the Money and Woman too, so as you were saying, Sir Antony—

Enter a Servant, Ilford goes to him.

Sir Ant.

Why, I still say a true bred English-man is ever out of humour when he's out of Pocket: He knows no more how to want Money, than how to borrow it—

Val.

And when he does, is as surly in borrowing, as others are in lending Money.

Sir Ant.

'Tis almost as dangerous too, to offer him Money, as to lend Money to another Man: For he is as likely, out of a want of Sense, to suffer your Courtesie; as a Stranger, out of a want of Honesty, never to return it.

Val.

That way, indeed, our Countrymen take care, never to think them∣selves oblig'd: We can be ungrateful—

Sir Ant.

And cheat our Benefactors of their good Offices, by an Ingrati∣tude, almost natural to us; and that makes a tolerable amends for our want of the more 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Villanies of warmer Countries.

Val.

But the Lady, Sir Antony—

Sir Ant.

More of the Lady at leisure; in the mean time, here are Fifty Pieces of hers, too keep up your Fancy: If your Occasions require a greater Sum— she shall supply you—

Val.

And I'll supply her.

Sir Ant.

Upon your Bond, for the payment of the whole to her in Eng∣land—

Val.

By all means.

Sir Ant.

A Blank Bond, because she wou'd not be known here.

Val.

With all my Heart, but won't she take a Gentleman's Word?

Sir Ant.

O yes, when she has his Bond for the performance. When our surly Friend is Civil enough to be oblig'd, I have a Twin-Purse at his Service too.

Val.

You are very much out of his Favour of late.

Sir Ant.

So I find: What's the Matter with the Fool?

Val.

How have you disoblig'd him?

Sir Ant.

But he's in Love, and consequently an Ass.

Val.

And I believe Jealous of you.

Sir Ant.

Faith I'll give him Cause. Volante is as fit for my purpose of Tormenting him that way, as I could wish. Shall we to the Abbe, Gentle∣men?

Ilf.

Golding! An English-Man?

Ser.

So his Servants tell me, Sir.

Ilf.

Just come to Town, say'st thou?

Ser.

He has not peep'd abroad, since his coming, Sir.

Ilf.

Do you know any such Gentleman, Valentine?

Val.

I did; a considerable Coxcomb of that Name, in England; a Knight, Sir Gentle Golding. Sir Antony, you may have known him too.

Sir Ant.

I have heard of him. If this shou'd prove my Coxcomb Govern∣our.

Aside to him.

Val.

But Damn him, he has not Courage enough to cross the Channel.

Sir Ant.

I know he is in France, I heard of him at Paris.

Serv.

Faith, Sir, it must be the Man—

Sir Ant.

Whom we must manage then.

To Wait-well.

Val.

Why do'st think so?

Serv.

Your Description is so like him, Sir.

Val.

Why, hast thou found him out—

Ilf.

For his Father's Son, and his Mother's Fool.

Sir Ant.

And our Fool, Gentlemen: If he be a Fool, I'll have my Snack of him.

Serv.

There's enough for you all, without wronging the Family, as he will quickly convince you. He knows you, Sir—

To Valentine.

Val.

Then 'tis the very Fool.

Serv.

And designs to wait upon you.

Val.

At his Peril be't: I owe him a Revenge, for Lucia's sake.

Ilf.

Is this the Spark?

Val.

That bought her of her Aunt—

Sir Ant.

Now for my Character.

To Wait-well.

Val.

When she was yet too young, to Judge between the Fortune and the Fool.

Sir Ant.

That's some Excuse however.

Ilf.

A little time shew'd her, her senseless Bargain.

Val.

So I hear.

Sir Ant.

Which, she repenting, gave you the cheaper Penniworth of her Person: Then was the time—

Val.

That I was in France; out of the reach of any other Pleasure, had she design'd me any, than the bare News, that she had found him out, loath'd, and abhorr'd him.

Ilf.

Loathing and Abhorring, are Tokens of Mortification indeed: But Pennance is not enough for such a Fault; 'tis generally as short liv'd, as the Sin that begot it. What marks of Amendment has she since given?

Sir Ant.

What marks of Amendment wou'd you have?

Val.

I know nothing of her Amendment.

Sir Ant.

Wou'd you have her Snivle, like a Girl; more afraid of her Mo∣ther, than the Sin; and cry, forgive me this one slip, I'll do so no more—

Val.

Repent upon the first Intrigue—

Sir Ant.

Turn Honest, and disparage the Pleasure, by leaving the Trade.

Val.

That must not be.

Sir Ant.

By no means, Valentine.

Val.

Wou'd you have her already fall off—

Sir Ant.

Become a Civil Person—

Val.

And take up—

Ilf.

With some body that better deserves her; that way I wou'd have her a Civil Person, and fall off from her Fool.

Sir Ant.

Indeed a Woman never repents of a Fool so heartily, as in the Arms of a Man of Sense.

Val.

How Fortune has dispos'd of her, I know not; but I lik'd her once so

well, I wou'd have her still preserve my good Opinion of her Conduct: If she has manag'd her Monster, as he deserv'd, she has made Money and Mirth of him; and me some Amends for the loss of her, by mending her Condition.

Sir Ant.

If that will preserve your good Opinion of her, she will conti∣nue it: For I hear she has us'd him as ill, as you cou'd desire from your Re∣venge; or the Town expect from their Hopes of a Libel.

Val.

Then I honour her.

Sir Ant.

She has robb'd him of Five Hundred Pounds, run away from him; and so expos'd him, that he has been the common Rhyming Theam, the Hackney Pegasus for the Puny Poets to set out upon, in their vast Ambition, of arriving at a Lampoon.

Ilf.

And that perhaps has sent him into France.

Val.

Well, I will have her Knighted.

Sir Ant.

Of what Order? A Knight Errant, or an Errant Knight?

Val.

A Knight Errant, of thy Order, she must be.

Wait.

That she is already.

Aside.

Val.

And thee a Right Honourable, for thy News.

Sir Ant.

You may depend upon it.

Val.

If ever I light on her, I'll thank her for this Justice to us all.

Ilf.

Golding may tell us more of her.

Val.

So he may, you, Sir, wait at our Lodgings for him,

To a Serv.

And direct him to the Abbe's, if he comes: We'll laugh at him, if we do nothing more.

Sir Ant.

But he and I must clear another score.

Exeunt.