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.

ACT III.

SCENE I. Waitwell placing Bottles on the Table.

Enter Sir Antony and the Pilgrim.

Sir Ant.

THis is a dry Subject, Pilgrim; there's no engaging in't with out a Bottle.

Pilg.

You'll have your own ways here.

Walks about.

Sir Ant.

Have you infus'd the Opiate in his Wine?

Wait.

I warrant him he sleeps for't; your's is half Water.

Sir Ant.

If I don't find him a Knave, I'll make him a Fool, for troubling me with his Impertinence: But chiefly, for the dear Jest of exposing his Re∣verence to the Laughter of the Trophane.

Have you done there?

Waitwell goes out.

Lock the door, and let no body come near us. Now Pilgrim, we are alone; and sit you down—

Pilgrim stands and Crosses himself and Sir Antony.

Nay, I will have no Blessing upon our Endeavours, but a Bumper—this will banish Crosses: Here's to the falling of the Flesh, and the rising of the Spirit.

Drinks.

Pilg.

'Tis a mysterious Health, of sacred sense; ev'n to the pulling down of Satan's Throne.

Drinks.

Sir Ant.

A little Wine does well to qualifie the Water you drink in your Pilgrimage.

Pilg.

Sometimes without offence, Wine may be us'd; tho' our whole Life is but a Pilgrimage—

Sir Antony fills agen the Glasses,

Sir Ant.

That's as you please to make it. Come Sir, this is the Searcher of Hearts; here's to the opening of ours—

Drinks.

Pilg.

Hearts and Eyes, that we may see our Errors. This Wine will warm him, sure.

Aside.

Sir Ant.

Confession is a step to Repentance, you say.

Pilg.

The ready Road—

Sir Ant.

Then drink off your Glass, Pilgrim: How do you like your Wine?

Pilg.

'Tis warm, I promise you—

Sir Ant.

Able to distinguish a Saint from a Sinner; and will keep you out of the Mire, better than your wooden Shoes.

Pilg.

'Twill rather leave us there. But to our purpose now—

Sir Ant.

Another Glass to strengthen my Attention; I shall edifie the bet∣ter by it.

Fills the Glass.

Pilg.

Sure he can't make me drunk.

Aside.

Sir Ant.

I expected you wou'd ha' drunk to my Conversion.

Pilg.

I shou'd ha' began it in Charity, indeed; but I'll make you what Reparation I may, and drink a full Glass for my forgetfulness.

Fills himself a Bumper.

Sir Ant.

I warrant him my own.

Aside.

Pilg.

To your Conversion be it—

Drinks.

Sir Ant.

This is the way to't, and the pleasantest Road you can travel in: For let me tell you, the World is bad enough at the best; we need not take Pains to make it worse.

Pilg.

Too many do indeed.

Sir Antony drinks.

Sir Ant.

Such foolish Apostles as thou art then: Why, I begin to despair of thee: I took thee for a sanguine, sensual Sinner, a Man of Sense, and an Hypocrite. But I find thee a peaking Penitent, and an Ass.

Pilg.

You sit in the Seat of the Scorner.

Sir Ant.

Tho' you pass upon the Abbe, and other Fools, I expected you wou'd have open'd your self to me: I profess my self, what I thought you were under your Habit, a Rogue: We might have been of use to one ano∣ther. But since you are for cheating no body but your self,

[Fills agen.]

I'll make an end of my Bottle and Business, and leave you to say Grace to the next Courtesie I offer you.

Drinks.

Pilg.

I must not lose this Opportunity.

Sir Ant.

Now I begin to believe all the silly things you have said of your self; your being weary of, and leaving the World, when you had a good Share of it your own; your parting with the Pleasures (which you call the Vanities) of it, at a time, when you were in a condition of enjoy∣ing 'em, by a senseless resigning up your Birthright.

Pilg.

My Service to you.

Drinks.

Sir Ant.

Of a considerable Quality and Fortune to a Younger Brother; who indeed needed no other Expectation for his Wants, than the abundance of your Folly to live upon.

Pilg.

You censure me too rashly.

Rises.

Sir Ant.

I speak my Thoughts, and am so far from imitating you any way, that when an Elder Brother stood between me and a good Estate, I made bold to remove him.

Pilg.

By no violent means.

Sir Ant.

Something before his time. I had a Joynture too incumber'd me; but a Physician after my own Heart eas'd me, and my good Lady-Grand∣mother.

Pilg.

And dare you own it?

Sir Ant.

Not at a Barr of Justice.

Pilg.

So horrid a Villany!

Sir Ant.

Never troubles me: I don't proclaim it but in my Cups, and where I think I'm safe to Men of my own Kidney—

Pilg.

You confess your self a Villain?

Sir Ant.

Any kind of Rogue that serves my turn; for I am of a Principle, that levels every thing in the way of my Pleasure or Profit.

Pilg.

A Worthy Principle!

Sir Ant.

I cheat the Men, and lye with the Women, as many as I can get in my Power.

Pilg.

Sir, I honour you; pray sit down agen.

They sit.

Sir Ant.

To hear you preach agen?

Pilg.

And are you really this Rogue you pretend to be?

Sir Ant.

Are you the Fool you pretend to be?

Pilg.

I must come nearer you.

Shews a Casket.

Sir Ant.

How, Jewels!

Pilg.

I bring my Welcom with me.

Sir Ant.

Enough to set up a Saint: The Lady of Loretto may keep her Chamber; thou hast spoyl'd her Holy-days, by robbing her Shrine: For thou hast robb'd hers, or some other, that's certain.

Pilg.

'Tis certain I have the Jewels: How I came by 'em, and why I put on this Habit—

Sir Ant.

Then you are no Pilgrim?

Pilg.

No more than you are a Priest. I am as errant a Rogue as you can be; a Shifter of Shapes and Names; have travell'd through every Profession, and cheated in all; so having by my Industry gathered a handsom Fortune, I converted that into Jewels, and my self into a Pilgrim, for the safer con∣veyance of both into Spain, whither I was going till I lit upon you.

Sir Ant.

I saw you through your Weeds, and had a mind to discover you.

Pilg.

Well, now you have discovered me—

Sir Ant.

Why, now I like you.

Pilg.

But are you sure you like me?

Sir Ant.

Like you extreamly.

Pilg.

If you can like me, you may love me too; for a Woman I know you are.

Sir Ant.

Am I discover'd too—

Aside.

Pilg.

Nay, I'm resolv'd to like you in any Sex.

Squeezing and kissing her hand.

But it is impossible such Beauty should be a Man's: And I will think you a Woman,

Approaching nearer still

Till you convince me to the contrary.

Sir Ant.

Have you a Mistress to be convinc'd to the contrary?

Pilg.

We were made for one anothers Conversation; here's that shall keep it in humour.

Lays his Hand on the Casket.

Sir Ant.

I have heard of Mark Antony's Pearl Cordial.

Pilg.

You shall drink nothing else but Pearl dissolv'd: Ha! What's the matter with me?

Yawns often.

Sir Ant.

Now, now my Dose begins— you grow indifferent—

Pilg.

My Senses vanish all.

Rises, and struggles all he can against it; but falls into his Chair asleep.

Sir Ant.

What fall a-sleep before me?

Pilg.

By and by I'll come agen to you.

Sir Ant.

So, he's as safe as his Casket in my custody: Governour, you may appear.

Enter Waitwell.

Here's an Oriental Present from the Mogul, By the hands of his Embassador there.

Wait.

He looks as he were drunk-dead, or dead-drunk.

Sir Ant.

Examine his Pockets, lets see what Credentials he has for his Character, tho' you see I have treated him like an Embassador without 'em.

Wait.

Here are Tablets full of Memorandums, to avoid such and such places where he has done his Rogueries.

Sir Ant.

Very well; these, when he awakes, will make good, if he should have the impudence to dispute my Title to the Theft.

Wait.

You won't keep all the Jewels?

Sir Ant.

A round Ransom may redeem 'em; but him I must expose, Go∣vernour; when I send for him, bring him in a Chair to the Abbe's.

Wait.

Most carefully.

Sir Ant.

And if Sir Gentle enquire for me, as I expect he will, direct him thither.

Wait.

I won't fail.

Sir Ant.

I have a Mistress for him.

Exit.

The Pilgrim carried off.

SCENE changes to the Street.

Ilford alone.

Ilf.

Volante is so busie for another, she has nothing to do for her self; so closely employ'd for Valantine, she has no Employment for any Body; or when she has, 'tis partially design'd for that Boy-Knight, in prejudice of every Man that may with more reason pretend—

Sir Antony crosses the Stage.

Sir Antony— Sir Antony— a word with you—

Sir Ant.

Prithee let me go; I am big with a Jest, and shall certainly mis∣carry with the first grave Word you say to me.

Ilf.

Be deliver'd of your Burthen then, lay it at my door; I'll Father it for a Friend.

Bringing him back by the Hand.

Sir Ant.

As some Men wou'd a Bastard, for the Reputation of getting it.

Ilf.

I have thought better of this Rivalling business between us; I see plain∣ly Volante declares for you—

Sir Ant.

I think the poor Creature loves me indeed.

Ilf.

And 'tis to no purpose to proceed—

Sir Ant.

None in the World, Sir.

Ilf.

In the measures I had taken in making my way to her; therefore now I come, like a Friend, to desire a Favour of you.

Sir Ant.

Now you say something, Ilford.

Ilf.

And like a Friend to advise you; you're a very pretty Fellow, and have a great many dancing years to trip over, before you come to be setious.

Sir Ant.

I hope so, Sir.

Ilf.

You shou'd Ramble before you Settle—

Sir Ant.

For fear of rambling after—

Ilf.

You are too great a Good, among the Women, to think of being par∣ticular; a dozen years too gay for the Condition—

Sir Ant.

Too gay for a Lover.

Ilf.

Too gay for a Husband.

Sir Ant.

Ay, marry Sir, a Husband!

Ilf.

How Sir?

Sir Ant.

I make Love sometimes, but do not often Marry.

Ilf.

What do you follow Volante for then?

Sir Ant.

Can't you tell for what? For as good a thing you may swear, Il∣ford: You guess at her Inclinations, poor Rogue; and a Lady shall never lose her Longing upon me; I design to Lie with her.

Ilf.

Without marrying her?

Sir Ant.

Without asking any Consent but her own; I am not for many words, when I have a mind to be doing.

Ilf.

So impudent a thing I never heard!

Enter Volante.

Vol.

Quarrelling agen Gentlemen!

Sir Ant.

Upon the old Subject.

Ilf.

I hate the Employment and Character of an Informer: But you come so upon the scandalous minute, I must tell you what; that young Gentleman—

Vol.

Sir Antony has no Friend of you, Sir.

Ilf.

Nor you of him, Madam; as you will find, when you hear what he says of you.

Vol.

Pray what's the matter?

Ilf.

He has the Impudence not only to design it, but ev'n to me his Rival, who love and honour you—

Vol.

Your Story, Oh, your Story!

Ilf.

He dares notoriously tell me to my Face, That he never design'd to marry you; but because you were in love with him, poor Creature, he wou'd do you the favour to Lie with you.

Sir Ant

Madam, you know he hates me upon your Account; and this is one of the poor Endeavours of his Malice to ruin me: You can't think I wou'd be such a Villain—

Vol.

I won't think it, Sir Antony.

Sir Ant.

Such an Ideot, if I cou'd have it in my head, to declare it to my Rival.

Vol.

Oh no— it is not probable.

Ilf.

By Heav'n and Earth he said it.

Vol.

I wou'd not believe it for Earth and Heav'n, if he did.

Ilf.

Nay then 'tis labour lost.

Vol.

If you'll deliver this Letter to Valentine, you'll do him more service, [Gives Ilford a Letter.] than you have me with your News— I won't leave you behind me, Sir Antony.

Sir Ant.

I'm going to the Abbe's, Madam.

Exeunt.

Ilf.

Well! I cou'd almost wish, he wou'd lie with her, to convince her, tho' she won't believe me, she will him; and that, in time, will be a suffi∣cient Revenge upon her Folly.

Enter Abbe and Valentine to Ilford: Count Verole, with Six Bravo's on the other side; they stare upon each other, and pass on. Abbe, Val. and Ilford remain.

Abb.

The Count has his Gurd du Corps, Valentine.

Val.

Sir Antony has Alarm'd him.

Ilf.

He is in a state of War, fit to give Battle already.

Val.

What he wants in his Person, he has in his Equipage: But they threaten too much, to do any Harm.

Abb.

Do you secure your Person; Volante shall secure your Mistress against him, I warrant her.

Ilf.

Here's a Letter she gave me for you.

Exeunt.

SCENE, The Abbe's House.

Pilgrim brought in a Chair: Sir Antony Love after it.

Sir Ant.

Down with your Burthen; and place him in that Chair. So, this is as proper a Scene to recommend our Farce to the Family, as we can have—

Enter Waitwell.

Wait.

Sir Gentle Golding is below, and wou'd speak with you.

Sir Ant.

One of you bring him up—

To the Chairmen, who go out.

Governour, he must not know you belong to me.

Wait.

I know your Design upon him; and I'll be gone to put things in Order to receive him—

Sir Ant.

To receive Valentine: He shall be welcome to me; but to deceive Sir Gentle.

Wait.

You are as busie 〈◊〉〈◊〉 a Projector, some of your Plots must miscarry,

Sir Ant.

Ha! he begins to stir: How long will the Opiate hold him?

Wait.

If he wakes before the Company comes, you lose your pleasure of laughing at him.

Sir Ant.

But I have a sudden Though, may give us a better Diversion.

Exit Waitwell.

Enter Sir Gentle Golding.

Sir Gent.

Sir Antony, your most incomparable humble Servant.

Sir Ant.

Sir Gentle, I've done your Business.

Sir Gent.

With the Lady you promis'd me?

Sir Ant.

With that very Lady; I've secur'd an Appointment for you; but being a Woman of Quality—

Sir Gent.

There you oblige me for ever.

Sir Ant.

Tho' something decay'd, and fall'n in her Fortune— She must be humour'd in little things; she will have her Forms.

Sir Gent.

I warrant her; and very fit she shou'd. A Person of Quality is known by her Forms.

Sir Ant.

They last but till the Evening, then I'll carry you to wait on her. Shews the Pilgrim.] Here's a drunken Pilgrim will afford you Merriment e∣nough to entertain some part of the time.

Sir Gent.

Dead drunk, as I intend to live sober.

Sir Ant.

Do me the favour to stay; and secure him, if he shou'd wake. I'll but bring the Abbe and his Family to share in abusing him, and be with you again.

Exit.

Sir Gent.

Why what an Unlucky, Hypocritical Rogue is this, to be disco∣ver'd,

and to lye at the mercy of Sir Antony! If he were but half as Holy, as he pretended, he might 'scape by Miracle; but he sleeps so sound, no Revela∣tion can Wake him.

Pilg.

Boy, Draw the Curtain, Sirrah—

Turns in his Chair, and makes Signs of waking.

Sir Gent.

Is the Light in your Eyes, Sir? What pains he takes to come to himself! Gad, I'll play the Rogue with him—I'll be the Midwife to his Labour—Stay, let me see, a stiff Straw wou'd do rarely, to probe his So∣briety. If his Brain be touch't, he'll take up the more time in his Cure, and 'tis well if ever he be his own Man again. Now for the Experiment.

Tickling his Nose, the Pilgrim jumps up, and throws Sir Gentle along, and in his thoughtfulness stum∣bles over him: both amaz'd, raise themselves up∣on their bottoms, and stare at each other.

Pilg.

Ha! Am I alive? Where have I been? Where am I now? How came I here? Who are you? What wou'd you have?

Sir Gent.

Have! My self in a Wish to England. Wou'd I were in my Mothers Belly again.

Pilg.

Speak, I conjure you, speak to me.

Sir Gent.

He's as heartily frightned, as I can be; I'll pluck up a Spirit, and speak to him.

Pilg.

Some ill thing has possess'd me.

Sir Gent.

Yes, possess'd thou art, by the lowd Spirit of powerful Wine possess'd. A drunken Devil.

Pilg.

A Bottle, and Sir Antony I remember, and the Discoveries I made him.

Both rise.

Sir Gent.

You are discovered, and in the Abbe's House—

Pilg.

In the Abbe's House!

Sir Gent.

Where now your business is to be laugh'd at, and expos'd; and the whole Family are coming to make your Holiness a Ridiculous Visit to that purpose.

Pilg.

That young Rogue Sir Antony! Has he done nothing else to me?

[Examining his Pockets.]

Undone, undone! I'm robb'd, and ruin'd: My Jewels gone! my Table-book gone too! That may do me more harm, than the Jewels can do any Body good.

Sir Gent.

Have you lost your Learning? How cou'd you miss it so soon? A Table-book?

Pilg.

Sir, I am robb'd; and I took you very suspiciously about my Pock∣ets; you shall answer the Robbery.

Sir Gent.

Why, do I look like a Pick-pocket? I'd have you to know, I scorn your Words: But that Trick shan't serve your turn—

Pilg.

Serve my turn, Sir—

Offering to go by him.

Sir Gent.

You must not 'scape me so.

Pilg.

Why, Sir, am I your Prisoner? I must not be found here.

Aside.

I have an Inkhorn may frighten him.

Sir Gent.

Look you, Sir, here's the Inside of my Pockets; I have nothing about me, but Bills of Exchange, and this Purse of Elizabeth Broad Gold: You shall search me, if you please.

Pilg.

I have search'd you, and found you, and must go by you too—

Presents an Inkhorn to his Breast.

Sir Gent.

O Lord Sir, I don't hinder you—

Pilg.

No, no, you had not best.

Sir Gent.

Pray take it away: I have a natural Aversion to the smell of Gun-powder—

Tho' 'twill be difficult to get away, for the Servants are order'd to stop you.

Pilg.

How! to stop me!

Sir Gent.

Now he wont offer to go.

Pilg.

The Servants ordered to stop me, do you say?

Sir Gent.

If you be the Pilgrim.

Pilg.

Then I'll be the Pilgrim no longer—

Undresses himself.

Sir Gent.

What will you be then pray?

Pilg.

Ev'n Sir Gentle Golding; I will get off in your Person, since I can't in my own; I must change Out-sides with you—

Begins to undress Sir Gent. Gold.

Sir Gent.

O Lord Sir, there's no Occasion for it: I know nothing of a Design upon you.

Pilg.

That's more than I know.

Sir Gent.

Faith and troth now, what I said, was only to play the Rogue with you.

Pilg.

And what I do, is to play the Fool with you. You must strip Sir.

Sir Gent.

O, but this is carrying the Jest too far.

Pilg.

Look you, you may keep your Worship and Wit for your own wear∣ing; but I must borrow your Cloaths.

Sir Gent.

At any other time, and welcom; I should be pleas'd with the Humour on't; but this is my first day of wearing 'em; besides, there's a Mi∣stress in the Case—

Dresses himself in Sir Gent.'s Cloaths.

Pilg.

As long as you live, prefer a Friend to a Mistress, Sir Gentle; Come Sir, a little of your Assistance.

Sir Gent.

But I am to see her this Evening; and one wou'd be well drest you know, the first time.

Pilg.

If you must see your Mistress, Visit her in Masquerade; 'tis a fashio∣nable way of beginning an Intrigue— and a Pilgrims Habit— is as Fan∣tastical, as you can contrive— to give a Lady a Curiosity— of knowing more of you— And that I know is your Business.

Sir Gent.

That is my Business indeed: But if I lose my time—

Pilg.

Don't make a noise, nor follow me; If you wou'd see her, or little England again, know your Friends, and give thanks Sir—

Exit.

Sir Gent.

What a pass have I bought my self to, by my own Policy! Why must I needs lye my self out of my Cloaths? If I had held my Tongue, or spoke but the Truth, He wou'd ha' gone about his Business, without interrupting mine. Now here I must stay, to be expos'd in his Room; But in a foolisher Figure, than ever the Pilgrim made: He was only disguis'd: But I am stript.

He was drunk indeed; wou'd I were dead Drunk, To cover my Shame, any way; wou'd I had any Disguise. I Gad I'll put on the Pilgrim's— It can't be worse with me— Besides, the respect that is paid to this Cloathing, will at least Carry me safe to my Lodging.

Exit.

SCENE Changes to the Street.

Pilgrim in Sir Gentle's Cloaths, with Monsieur Traffique.

Traff.

Sir, I have accepted these Bills already.

Pilg.

I know you have: But my Occasions falling out more Extraordinary than I expected, I am forc'd to press you for this Bill of 100 Pistols, before the Day.

Traff.

I have so often suffer'd, for those Complemental Payments, that I have resolv'd against 'em: But my Correspondent gives me an account of Sir Gentle Golding; you shall have what Credit you please with me.

Pilg.

A hundred Pistols I have present use for.

Traff.

If my Cashier were at home, you shou'd have 'em along with you; but in the Morning, as soon as you please—

Pilg.

I'll send my Servant to you— pray Sir, what news have you in the City?

Traff.

The newest Sir, is of a Pilgrim, that is suspected of something; I am Imperfect in the Particulars; but there are Warrants out to apprehend him, that I know.

Pilg.

There's no believing Out-sides; Sir, your Servant.

Exit Pilg.

Traff.

So I think too; And therefore I will be better Inform'd, whether you are Sir Gentle Golding or no, before I leave you.

Exit.

Pilgrim enters at another Door.

Pilg.

The hundred Pistols, if I had receiv'd 'em, had carry'd me off cle∣verly, and for some time, supported my Designs, in another place, till an Opportunity had favour'd me in making a handsome Composition with Sir Antony about my Jewels— However, I make a pretty good Figure still; Here's a good Suit of Cloats to begin the World with again—

Strutting and looking on his Cloaths.

Enter Courtaut, the Taylor's Man.

Court.

Bless your Worship, Sir Gentle, long may you live to wear 'em; How do your Cloaths fit you, Sir?

Pilg.

Very well Friend, very well.

Court.

Have you forgot me, Master?

Pilg.

No, no, I han't forgot thee; for I never saw thee before.

Court.

I am poor Courtaut, your Taylor's Finisher; I brought your Ho∣nour's Cloaths home to you this Morning—

Pilg.

Did you so, did you so?

Court.

By the same token, you said, you wou'd give me something to drink you health; but you were pleas'd to forget it.

Pilg.

I remember I gave thee nothing indeed; but the next time—

Court.

Aye, an't like your Honour, I am contented to stay, if my Master wou'd: But he has beaten me black and blew for leaving the Cloaths behind me, without Money.

Pilg.

Gad forgive me; that I shou'd forget that too! But come to my Lodging an Hour hence—

Court.

Please you, I'll wait upon you now to your Lodging—

Pilg.

How shall I shake him off?

Aside.

Court.

For I dare not go home without the Money, or some part on't?

Pilg.

Here, take this Purse, 'tis more than the Debt, but take the rest for thy self, now I remember thee—

Enter Traffique with a Servant of Sir Gentle's.

The Elizabeth broad Gold has deliver'd me.

Serv.

Yes, Master Monsieur, that is my Master, Sir Gentle Golding. You shall see me speak to him—

Goes to the Pilgrim.

Traff.

Young Man, a word with you.

To Courtaut.

Pilg.

More Debts to pay! I shall fall like an Executor without Assets.

Serv.

Sir, I have been about your Business, with the Messenger, as you or∣der'd me—

Pilg.

This is one of my English Servants it seems; I'll answer him in French to get rid of him.

Serv.

If you were at leisure—

Pilg.

Que Demandez vous? que dites vous Laquais? Entendez vous le Francois, grand Coquen?

Serv.

How's this? I durst ha' sworn it had been my Master; but I am sure he has no more Languages than Tongues and that his Mother gave him: Besides he's too good an Englishman, to learn any thing in another Country.

Pilg.

Je ne vous en tens pas, je ne parle pas Anglois.

Serv.

It seems I was mistaken, Sir, this is some out-landish man; he can't speak English.

Traff.

How, not speak English!

Court.

I'm sure he paid me for the Suit upon his back, but just now, in very good English—

Traff.

And wou'd have borrow'd a hundred Pistols of me, in as Civil English—

Pilg.

I can speak English Gentlemen, I spoke French, only to try, if that Fellow had learn't any thing, since he came into the Country.

Serv.

I'll have a tryal with you. This is some Rogue that has murder'd my Master—

Court.

And stole his Cloaths—

Traff.

And robb'd him of his Bills of Exchange.

Exeunt after the Pilgrim.

Serv.

Murder, Murder; Roguery, Thievery, stop him.

Enter Sir Antony, Valentine, Ilford, and Abbe.

Ilf.

Nay the Pilgrim was in the right, in getting off before your Evidence came upon him.

Abb.

I never heard of so Extraordinary a Rogue, as he confesses himself to be in these Tablets.

Val.

But that our gentle Knight, shou'd neither hinder him from going, nor be forth-coming himself, makes me believe some Ridiculous Accident has light upon him.

Sir Ant.

Let it be but Ridiculous enough, and I may forgive him.

Abb.

The Ports are shut, and for the Pilgrim, if he be in the City, we shall have him again.

Enter Sir Gentle in the Pilgrim's Habit.

Ilf.

What's that sneaks by us so?

Val.

Our very, very Saint.

Gathering about him.

Sir Ant.

Good morrow Pilgrim!

Abb.

Won't you know your Friends?

Ilf.

We were too late for your Levy. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 men of your Austerity and Life never indulge the Flesh, by sleeping long; you are an early Stirrer.

Abb.

Pray look up: You can do nothing sure to cast you down.

Omnes. Sir Gentle Golding!

Sir Gent.

Ev'n the very same.

Val.

What do you in this Habit?

Sir Gent.

'Tis whimsical and odd; I had a mind to try if you cou'd know me in this Disguise.

Sir Ant.

O yes, we know you in any Disguise.

Abb.

But there's a Warrant out against the Pilgrim; you'll be taken up for him.

Sir Gent.

Why? you don't take me for the Pilgrim.

Ilf.

But the Government will.

Sir Gent.

The Government then, will take me for as very Rascal as lives unhang'd in it.

Val.

But what's become of him?

Sir Ant.

You were last with him—

Val.

You have convey'd him away.

Ilf.

Or murder'd him—

Abb.

You must answer for him, for you have his Cloaths.

Sir Gent.

Nay if it be so, I'll tell you how I came by 'em—

Ilf.

The whole Truth, and nothing but the Truth.

Sir Gent.

I'll see him hang'd, before I tell a lye for a Rogue, that has us'd me so scurvily—

Sir Ant.

How scurvily, dear Knight?

Sir Gent.

Why, when you left me you know, alone with him, he took his time, when my Back was turn'd; and clapt a Pistol to my Breast—

Abb.

Bless the Mark! a Pistol!

Val.

A Pistol, Sir Gentle!

Sir Gent.

A double Barrel'd Pistol.

Sir Ant.

A brace of Bullets in each, I warrant you.

Sir Gent.

I warrant you there were: for he swore he wou'd shoot me thro' the Head—

Ilf.

The Pistol was at your Breast, Sir Gentle.

Sir Gent.

Breast, did I say— Did I say, at my Breast Gentlemen? But Breast or Head Sir— He swore he wou'd murder me, if I did not give him my Cloaths, to make his escape in.

Val.

And so, you gave him your Cloaths?

Sir Gent.

No I thank you; that were to make my self Accessory; I put him to the trouble of taking 'em.

Abb.

And very wisely done, Sir.

Sir Ant.

So he stript you?

Sir Gent.

To my very Shirt, I'll make Oath on't, before a Magistrate.

Ilf.

You put on his Cloaths then, as one may say, in your own defence?

Sir Gent.

You may say so indeed.

Abb.

Stick there Sir, Se defendendo will bring you off.

Sir Gent.

I must ha' gone home Naked else.

Sir Ant.

And cou'd you have pass'd sullenly by us, and conceal'd such an occasion of Laughing at you?

Sir Gent.

Prithee Sir Antony, no more on't.

Officers bring in the Pilgrim.

Monsieur Traffique, Courtaut, and Sir Golding's Servant.

Serv.

Bring him along: Bring him along—

Val.

What Rabble have we here?

Serv.

We are enow to hang one Rogue, or we deserve to beat Hemp for one another.

Abb.

Where are you haleing the Gentleman?

Pilg.

Sir Antony, I am in your Power; stand but my Friend in this Busi∣ness, and bring me off, you shall make your own Conditions about the Jewels—

He and Sir Antony Confer.

Serv.

I'll swear point-blank my Master's Murder upon him.

Abb.

Who is your Master, Friend▪

Serv.

Sir Gentle Golding, and like you; and I am his Man.

Sir Gent.

Aye, 'tis my Man indeed, wou'd I were his Master again.

Serv.

You my Master, you Rascal! my Master's a Knight—

Sir Ant.

Now Abbe, I am even with you and your Pilgrim: But since I have brought him so far into his Business, 'tis matter of Conscience to bring him out agen. I was provided for his Impertinence; and since I cou'd not make him drunk, I gave him an Opiate to expose him as if he were; for that purpose I remov'd him to your House: But coming to himself before I expected, he scap'd that Design—

Pilg.

And finding the Disgrace ready to fall on me, and in your House, I made bold to change Cloaths with Sir Gentle Golding—

Sir Gent.

'Tis true indeed, Gentlemen.

Pilg.

But since Matters are brought to a clearing, I am ready to return 'em to the Gentleman.

Sir Ant.

As you had 'em, I hope?

Pilg.

Every thing but his Purse; which I was forc'd to give his Taylor there to get rid of him.

Abb.

Return the Purse.

Traf.

I'll see your Master paid.

To Courtaut.

The hundred Pistols are ready, Sir.

To the Pilgrim.

Pilg.

For Sir Gentle Golding, I only hasten'd you.

Sir Gent.

Why, how did you know I wanted such a Sum?

Traf.

It shall be pay'd to you, or your order.

Sir Gent.

Pray pay it to no body else.

Exeunt Traffique and Courtaut.

Abb.

You've done your Duty, Gentlemen; 'tis very well. Pilgrim, a word with you.—

Takes him aside.

Val.

How this fooling has run away with the time!

Looks on's Watch.

Sir Ant.

I'll be for you immediately.

Takes Sir Gentle aside.

Val.

Within a quarter of Ten already!

Ilf.

I shou'd ha' been glad to ha' made one, Valentine.

Val.

I thank you; but Numbers may discover us, and Sir Antony won't be out of the business.

Abb.

Do me but this piece of Service, and I won't only pardon you, but re∣ward you well when you ha' don't. Besides, 'tis a kind of Revenge upon Sir Antony.

Pilg.

I am at your Mercy, and you shall command me any thing.

Ilf.

Sir Gentle says, you drew a Pistol upon him.

Val.

That was not according to the Law of Arms.

Pilg.

I can't tell how his Fear represented it, but it was an Inkhorn that disarm'd him.

Sir Ant.

You won't fail, when I send for you?

Sir Gent.

I'll but change Cloaths with that Gentleman, and be ready as soon as you please.

Exeunt Sir Gentle, Pilgrim, and Servant.

Sir Ant.

Now Valentine have with you—

Abb.

'Tis near upon your appointment with my Niece: I'll secure her Fa∣ther within, the better to favour her running away from him.

Ilf.

I wish you well, Gentlemen.

They go out several ways, Ilford and the Abbe; out Sir Ant. and Valent. together.

SCENE changes to the Back-side of a Great House with Gardens.

Count Verole, with six Bravo's.

Ver.

To morrow; let but once to morrow come, And she is mine; Marry'd, and wholly mine: If then not wholly mine, 'twill be my Fault. Gentlemen, we must be every where to Night: This English-man, that dares to Rival me, May attempt farther; if he shou'd, I think Floriante but too inclin'd to pardon him. But we'll prevent the worst.

(Whistle.)

Valentine and Sir Antony make the Signal at the Garden-door, which opens upon it. Floriante retires upon the Noise of Swords, crying Murder.

Stand and observe their Motions. Nay, then 'tis he; be sure you Murder him.

Count Canaile, with Sword in Hand, runs to assist Valentine and Sir Antony against the Bravo's.

Can.

Villains and Murderers, I hope you are not hurt.

Val.

Thank your Assistance, Sir.

Sir Ant.

If I am not a Man in this point, I'll never wear Breeches more.

Val.

I know 'twas Count Verole.

Can.

He has not rais'd himself in my Esteem by this base Action—

Enter Floriante.

What do you out of doors?

Flor.

I cou'd not stay within, knowing your Danger.

Can.

'Tis over, now retire.

Flor.

Pray pardon me; if I have done any undecent thing, my Duty caus'd it in my Fears for you.

Exit.

Val.

I'm sorry I have allarm'd your Family.

Sir Ant.

I dare swear for him he is

Can.

So far 'tis well, Sir: If you think your self oblig'd for what is past, shew it in what's to come; forbear my House, my Daughter is dispos'd of: So good-night.

Exit.

Sir Ant.

Very good Advice, Valentine: Since you can't make it a good Night with his Daughter, make it as good as you can with some body else.

Val.

Why Faith, the Expectation of her has rais'd me into a desire of any thing in Petticoats.

Sir Ant.

What think you of my English Lady?

Val.

You owe me a Favour there, Sir Antony.

Sir Ant.

To Night I'll pay it then; I have an Appointment upon me now; but not being in so perfect a Condition to oblige her, you shall make an End of my Quarrel.

Val.

With all my Heart.

Sir Ant.

I'll send my Governor to conduct you.

Val.

He, like other wise men, makes no scruple of Pimping, when he gets by the Employment.

Sir Ant.

Then you are not one of those fine Gentlemen, who because they are in love with one Woman, can lie with no body else?

Val.

Not I, Faith Knight; I may be a Lover, but I must be a Man.

Sir Ant.

When the dear days of Rambling Joys are o're, When Nature grudges to supply your Whore, There's Love enough for Marriage left in store.

Exeunt.