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 IV.

SCENE I.

Waitwell disguis'd, with Sir Gentle Golding.

Wait.

SIR Antony not being able to wait upon you in Person, as design'd, has desir'd me his Friend—

Sir Gent.

Sir, your most humble Servant.

Wait.

To shew you the way.

Sir Gent.

I'll shew my good Breeding, and follow you.

Wait.

The Lady is at present in private; when she has dispatch'd her own Bu∣siness, she'll be ready for yours.

Sir Gent.

Then she's a Woman of Business.

Wait.

And of Dispatch too, Sir: If you love Pictures, there's a Gallery will take up your Thoughts till the Lady's at leisure to employ 'em better. I'll let her know you're here.

Exit.

Sir Gent.

How Ceremony disguises any thing! I can't take this civil Gentle∣man for a Pimp, tho' I have Occasion for him; nor this House for a Bawdy∣house, tho' I have a mind to make it one. Wou'd Sir Antony were here, to

encourage me with his Impudence: When I have Company to halloo me, I can fasten like a Bull-Dog. But I have a villanous Suspicion, that when I see this Lady, I shall take her for a civil Gentlewoman; a buse her, away, she does not deserve; think too well of her, and loose my labour.

Exit.

SCENE changes to a Bed-Chamber.

A Song.

Valentine following Sir Antony Love in her Woman's Cloaths.

Val.

Faith Madam, your Entertainment will keep you in Countenance; you may own the making of it.

Sir Ant.

You'll trust your Stomach with a cover'd Dish another time, Sir?

Val.

You may shew your Face after it, and expect the Thanks of the Com∣pany.

Sir Ant.

And disgrace the Reputation I have got with you in other things.

Val.

Nay, if you think so, I wou'd not have you shew it for the World.

Sir Ant.

That were to ruin the Complement you intend me.

Val.

But after all, if your Face shou'd be as delicate as your other Charms—

Sir Ant.

But if it shou'd not be as delicate—

Val.

Then keep it to your self; but 'tis pity 'tis not: but be it what it is, I will pay some part of my Thanks in advising you.

Sir Ant.

You wou'd say Grace and be gone, my serious Sinner, wou'd you?

Val.

Only to make sure of coming agen Child, that's all.

Sir Ant.

Some of that all, I beseech you—

Val.

My Doctrine will turn to thy use. Child, and lead me often to thee, if thou hast but the Grace to make the right Application.

Sir Ant.

Good Holder-forth, bate your damn'd Faces, and begin.

Val.

Why then, in the first place, about our Friend Sir Antony; He's a very pretty Fellow I grant you; but he's a Boy, a giddy-pated Boy—

Sir Ant.

A little too young indeed to be trusted—

Val.

In an Affair of this nature, by any Woman that has a Reputation to secure with her Pleasure.

Sir Ant.

I have been afraid of his talking indeed a great-while.

Val.

You must expect it, Madam; he has not Experience enough to value you: All Women are alike to the young Fellows; as indeed all Fellows are alike to the young Women; neither Sex chuses well, till they come to an Age of Discretion.

Sir Ant.

There I am with you indeed.

Val.

There is a maturity requir'd in Love, as in other Fruits, to recommend the true relish of it, to the distinguishing Palate of an Epicure. I am some∣thing a better Judge of that pleasure, than he can be: And I think fitter, a great deal, for an Intrigue with your Ladyship, both in discretion and perfor∣mance—

Sir Ant.

Then Sir Antony can be.

Shews her Face.

Val.

Sir Antony in Petticoats.

Sir Ant.

But are not you a Rogue, Valentine? Not to receive a Courtesie from a Lady by the favour of your Friend, but you must abuse your Trust, and supplant the very Interest that rais'd you to her?

Val.

I am confounded indeed! But are you Sir Antony Love?

Sir Ant.

All but my Petticoats.

Val.

And are you sure you're a Woman?

Sir Ant.

Are not you sure of that, Sir?

Val.

I am; and charm'd with the certainty—

Kisses her.

Now every pleasure past, comes o're my thoughts: How many opportunities have I lost, That you have giv'n me, and must answer for!

Sir Ant.

There are as many to come; you shall command 'em all.

Val.

Now I remember; you father'd a Bastard for me, at Paris—

Sir Ant.

I had the reputation of it indeed; and shou'd have had the Cow with the Calf; for her Father pursu'd me to marry her, thro' all means of Accommodation, into the strait at last of confessing my Sex to the English Embassador—

Val.

This you never told me before.

Sir Ant.

He had her punish'd, and secur'd me in his Family, as long as I staid there; for you know, he was a Man of Honour—

Val.

And a Man of Gallantry too, Madam, that knew which way to im∣prove such a piece of good Fortune—

Sir Ant.

As well as any body; and so he did Valentine: By his generosity and good usage, he press'd me so very far, that not being able to answer the Obligations I had to him, (having you in my head at that very time) I was forc'd to run away from him, to get rid of him.

Val.

How could you keep this from me so long?

Sir Ant.

Now 'tis more welcome to you?

Val.

Had I known it before, it had been in my power—

Sir Ant.

Not to marry me, I hope, Valentine! But if you cou'd be in that mind (which I neither desire, nor deserve) I know you too well, to think of securing you that way.

Val.

But I wou'd not have engag'd my self, any where else—

Sir Ant.

I know your engagements to Floriante; and you shall marry her. That will disengage you, I warrant you.

Val.

You continue your Opinion of Marriage.

Sir Ant.

Floriante, I grant you, wou'd be a dangerous Rival in a Mistress—

Val.

Nothing can Rival thee.

Sir Ant.

And you might linger out, a long liking of her, to my uneasi∣ness, and your own; but Matrimony, that's her security, is mine: I can't appre∣hend her in a Wife.

Enter Waitwell.

Sir Ant.

Well Governour, what think you of my Management?

Wait.

Why, if you take but half the pains in your Profit, that you have spent in your Pleasure, I think we may expect a very good account of the Knight—

Val.

Sir Gentle Golding! he's in your Debt indeed: I had not leisure to re∣member him.

Sir Ant.

We'll laugh at him at leasure.

Wait.

He's in the Gallery, expecting your pleasure.

Sir Ant.

My pleasure is to see him, bring him in.

Exit Waitwell.

I promis'd him a Mistress, you must know: 'Twill be foolish enough to observe him, when he discovers me; pray stay, and laugh with me.

Val.

The Interview must needs be ridiculous.

Goes to the Door.

Sir Gentle Golding introduc'd by Waitwell: He is surpriz'd at the sight of Sir Antony.

Wait.

My Office ends, where the Lady begins; I'll leave you to her.

Sir Gent.

Pray, Sir, a word with you—

Wait.

The sewer the better, till you have saluted her: You see she expects it.

Sir Gent.

I shou'd have saluted her indeed: but the surprize of your Beauty, Madam, made me forget my Complement.

Sir Ant.

My Face has surpriz'd him, I believe.

Sir Gent.

Pray, did I never see this Gentlewoman before?

Wait.

You best can tell that, Sir; but you are concern'd at something.

Sir Gent.

A little concern'd, I am indeed, but 'tis only to know, whether I know her, or no.

Wait.

In your Tour of France, you may have seen her; she's of the Country.

Sir Gent.

A French Woman.

Wait.

Of Languedock.

Sir Gent.

I durst ha' sworn she was an English Woman!

Wait.

Born and bred among us.

Sir Gent.

I'm glad on't, with all my heart. For I knew a little Woman, but a great Divel, so like her in England—

Wait.

Very like, Sir.

Sir Gent.

That faith and troth, I was down-right confounded at the sight of her.

Wait.

Some Mistress, that you have forsaken—

Sir Gent.

O fie, Sir, I never do those things—

Wait.

I warrant you, and the guilt of her ill usage haunts you up and down, in her shape.

Sir Gent.

Nay, I deserve it indeed; if it shou'd be so; for I was too bar∣barous to the poor Devil, considering I was the first that undid her.

Sir Antony making a Courtsie, points Sir Gentle to a Chair.

Wait.

See, Sir, the Lady wou'd have you sit down by her; I never saw her make such Advances before; you are very much in favour.

Sir Gent.

Soft and fair. I must be more in your favour, before I have done with you.

Wait.

She does not speak English. But there's an universal Character in Love, which every Creature can comprehend; when she has you alone, she'll grope out your meaning, I warrant you.

Exit.

Sir Gent.

So, since we have nothing to say to one another, we shall lose no time in Complements; I like her exceedingly: tho' I never look upon her, but Lucia comes in my thoughts; she's so very like that jilting Jade, I shall never love her heartily: A week will be the farthest, I shall be constant to her. What sign shall I make, to put her in mind of her Bed-chamber? Mo∣ney speaks all Languages, this Purse will be my Interpreter.

Voulez vous, Do me the grand Favour—

Sir Ant.

But how shall we do to understand one another? You speak no

French, and I speak no English; 'Tis impossible to understand one another.

Sir Gent.

Madam; you do speak English—

Sir Ant.

I understand it a little; enough to know I resemble one. What did you call her, Lucia, aye, Lucia, a jilting Jade; you don't like that, for that reason you can't love me heartily; nor be constant above a Week: I understand so much, without speaking English; as you find to be understood.

Sir Gent.

I find I do understand you.

Sir Ant.

But I'll try to speak plainer to you.

Sir Gent.

Nay, you speak plain enough, Mrs. Lucy. Wou'd I were any where, to be rid of you.

Sir Ant.

You see, we were not to part so. Fortune will have me oblig'd to you: I have almost spent the 500 l. I borrow'd of you.

Sir Gent.

I'm glad I had it for you, Madam.

Sir Ant.

And faith, 'tis very kind, in an old Acquaintance, to follow me in∣to France, to supply me agen: I know you came a purpose—

Sir Gent.

Not quite a purpose.—

Sir Ant.

No, not quite a purpose, some little Business by the by of your own, you might have, I grant you: But this Purse you never design'd for me.

Sir Gent.

I'll force nothing upon you Madam; you may give it me agen, if you don't like it.

Sir Ant.

Yes, yes; the Purse is an amiable Purse, and very well to be lik'd; only the Sum does not amount to my Occasions: There's no retreating, Sir Gentle, you are in my Power, and without a Ransome, must continue my Pri∣soner; you know I never want a Pistol upon these occasions; 'tis not the first time I have robb'd you.

Sir Gent.

Any Composition; but don't murder me; you know I hate a Pistol.

Sir Ant.

What have you in your Pockets? Nothing but Papers?

Sir Gent.

You have got already, all the Mony I had about me.

Sir Ant.

About you! with a pox to you: must I be so answer'd? And why had not you more about you? Stay, here's a Bill of 100 Pistols, at pre∣sent, shall excuse you—

Sir Gent.

'Tis very well it does.

Sir Ant.

Payable to you, or your Order? What's there?

Enter Waitwell.

Run, and receive this Bill for the Gentleman.

Wait.

He shou'd Indorse it first.

Sir Ant.

Come, Sir, you must lend me your Order.

Sir Gent.

No borrowing among Friends; I'll give it you, to Monsieur Traffique.

Writes, and gives Sir Ant. the Bill, and Sir Ant. gives it to Waitwell, who goes out.

Sir Ant.

Why, that's well said.

Sir Gent.

You live as it were by your Wits; 'tis better I should loose a little Money, then you should forget your Trade, for want of employment.

Sir Ant.

A great deal better, Sir Gentle! But I must lock you up till the Money be paid.

Sir Gent.

Aye, aye, with all my heart; but he won't scruple the payment.

Sir Ant.

The next time I do you this savour, take care to be better pro∣vided;

don't let me lose my labour upon you, I speak as a Friend to you.

Sir Gent.

I'll take your Advice.

Sir Ant.

If I were not just upon my leaving the Town, and in a very great haste, I can tell you, you should not get off so easily.

Sir Gent.

I am beholding to you: But I am sorry we loose you so soon.

Sir Ant.

You may find me again, if Christendom stands were it does a Twelve-month to an end; let not that trouble you.

Exit after Sir Gentle.

Valentine comes forth.

Val.

Thus all things are provided for by Fate: The witty Man enjoys the Fool's Estate. So Rich and Poor, let 'em compute their Gains; One has his lot in Lands, and one in Brains. And 'tis but Justice Fortune shou'd do more For him, who being born so, wou'd be poor.

Exit.

SCENE changes to the Street.

Enter Count Canaile and Abbe.

Can.

I allow all you say: And last Night's Action has not declin'd the Count from my Esteem, more than it raises Valentine.

Abbe.

He'll keep your Daughter more orderly then a Nunnery can: ev'n let him marry her.

Can.

You know, I'm out of my own Power and Choice.

Abbe.

Hang your Choice; you may be asham'd on't.

Can.

Indeed I do repent it; but my word and reputation are engag'd to him.

Abbe.

Is that a man to make a Grandfather?

Can.

No other shall, by Floriante, make me one: And therefore she shall be Religious, and take the Habit in her Sister's room—

Abbe.

What, make a Nun of her, against her Will!

Can.

To cut off all Pretenders; but to prove how I regard your Friend, Charlot you know, inferiour in nothing but her Years, if Valantine likes her, she has my leave, and shall receive his Visits at the Grate: Let him but con∣quer her, he has gain'd me.

Abbe.

Let him get Floriante, and he conquers thee.

Palmer enters in another Disguise.

Ah my little Palmer! You lye as close as a man in a Proclamation; but you are a Pilgrim of Honour, I find—

Palm.

Where I am engag'd, Sir—

Abbe.

Sir Antony can never discover thee.

Turns him about.

Palm.

I warrant I do your business—

Abbe.

And your own business—

Palm.

My own business to be sure, and Sir Antony's too, or I shall loose my Labour.

Abbe.

About it, about it instantly, and prosper, my little Palmer.

Exit Palmer.

Enter Valentine with Sir Antony and Sir Gentle.

Abb.

Valentine! I have some News for you:

Walks off with him.

Sir Ant.

But you amaze me, Sir Gentle—

Sir Gent.

It wou'd amaze one indeed, Sir Antony.

Sir Ant.

'Tis the oddest piece of Roguery and Impudence that I have heard of.

Sir Gent.

Aye, so 'tis, 'tis pretty odd, and impudent indeed.

Sir Ant.

A cheating Gypsie; I warrant she has had her eye upon you, from your first coming to Town.

Sir Gent.

Nay, not unlikely.

Sir Ant.

I began to suspect her my self, she prest me so often to bring you.

Sir Gent.

Ah; if I had known that, Sir Antony!

Sir Ant.

Why, what if you had?

Sir Gent.

Why, I wou'd ha' staid away; but if you had been with me, it had been the better for me.

Sir Ant.

Much at one for that, I believe. But is she gone out of Town, do you say? You shou'd have apprehended her—

Sir Gent.

Pugh, pugh— she's gone from her Lodging, she must not stay long in a place.

Sir Ant.

'Tis very well she's gone—

Sir Gent.

Aye, so it is: and I hope I shall never see her agen.

Exit.

Sir Ant.

I dare swear for him, he speaks his heart.

Enter Palmer to him.

Well Sir— your business with me? If it be grave or wise, keep it for your own use; I never approve discretion in any man, but a Pimp.

Palm.

Sir, you may say what you please, or call me what you please—

Sir Ant.

Nay Sir, I honour you, if you are one.

Palm.

Then I am one, and one employ'd to you.

Sir Ant.

Begin your Employment, that I may go about mine.

Palm.

Why then, Sir, in few words; there's a Lady dying for you—

Sir Ant.

I never visit the Sick, let her die in peace: But don't let a Priest come near her; he'll ask her bawdy Questions, when she has a mind to be serious.

Palm.

She's only dying for you, Sir.

Sir Ant.

Were she living for me, I cou'd say something to her; if she make a Will, as far as the Legacy goes, I may remember her.

Palm.

Your Mirth becomes you, Sir; but the Lady's in very good health, and, in short, only dying in love with you.

Sir Ant.

Short and sweet.

Palm.

And has a mind—

Sir Ant.

I know her mind; and what she has a mind to.

Palm.

You know the World enough, Sir; to excuse a Lady in Love—

Sir Ant.

And absolve her too.

Palm.

Tho' she shou'd have a Husband—

Sir Ant.

For making him a Cuckold—

Palm.

Not to make a practice of it.

Sir Ant.

The oftner the better.

Palm.

Nay indeed; there's a great deal to be said for the poor Women; How can they help or avoid their Inclinations? Men are too blame, who like young Conjurers, prove (Safe in the Circle of a Wedding-Ring)

The Magick Spell of Wedlock upon Love: So, Cuckolds make themselves by marrying.

Sir Ant.

Very Casuistically brought about, Sir. And I am so much of your Opinion, that I think the Lady cannot do her self a better justice, nor me a greater favour, than allow me to wait upon her on such an occasion.

Palm.

That she does in this Billet: And if you think it worth your while to visit her— will do you richer, and greater favours.

Sir Ant.

I am at present engag'd—But in the Evening—

Palm.

The Evening wou'd do well: I am bad to say, her Husband's out of Town, the rest, her Note will best inform you in.

Going.

Sir Ant.

Then this shall be my Guide.

Palm.

I may cheat you out of your Cunning, before I ha' done with you.

Exit.

Sir Ant.

Why, what the Devil am I engaging in agen! I shall draw all the Women in Town upon me, at this rate: Maids, Wives, and Widows, have one Curiosity or another always to be satisfi'd. I have a Reputation among 'em; and if I don't keep it up, by answering their Expectations—I shall fail of mine, in my Frollicks, and be discover'd; and that I have no mind to be yet a while! But how the Devil shall I answer their Expectations—Or this Lady's in particular, who has bespoke me for her Evening Service? If I go, I shall disappoint her more than if I stay away; and I know, good Soul, she wou'd be as much concern'd for me, to find me no Man, as at ano∣ther time she wou'd be for her self, to be found no Maid, if she had a mind to be thought one. O here comes Valentine!

Enter Valentine.

Val.

I wou'd as soon be a Lawyer as a Lover at this rate. Following a Mistress to no purpose, is as bad as trudging a Foot to Westminster for no Fee. Can you corrupt a Nunnery for me, my little Knight!

Sir Ant.

I will do any thing for you—but first you must lend me your Limbs, to carry on a Design—

Val.

Do what you please with me.

Exeunt.

Palmer Re-enter with the Abbe.

Abb.

Thou art a most incomparable Fellow, Palmer; the Prince of Pimps and Pilgrims! But what! Sir Antony is a young smoaky Rogue I warrant you, he suspected something—

Palm.

Not a bit of suspicion.

Abb.

He might scruple it at first, you know.

Palm.

First nor last, he made no scruple at all! But came into my Net, as fast as I cou'd spread it for him!

Abb.

But came into my Net, as fast as I cou'd spread it for him! Prettily exprest upon the occasion! And I shall love a Setting-dog, as long as I live, for the sake of the Simile.

Palm.

I'm glad it pleases you.

Abb.

Pleases me! Yes, yes; it pleases me! every thing pleases me. But ha! my Boy! he must not get from us, now we have him in the Net.

Palm.

'Tis our fault, if he does.

Abb.

Why Sir Antony has us'd thee but scurvily—

Palm.

To my Cost.

Abb.

And Revenge is very natural—

Palm.

And very sweet.

Abb.

Revenge is sweet indeed; it must be sweet; a sweet Revenge, upon so sweet a Boy: And take my Word; I'll do you that Justice upon him: For I'll tell you, what I intend to do with him—

Palm.

Aye, pray Sir.

Abb.

Why in the first place I intend — not to open my Lips, upon that Subject. But I mean—

Palm.

I hope so, Sir.

Abb.

If I can compass my design, I mean—

Palm.

What do you mean?

Abb.

Not to explain my self, Palmer—Ah Rogue! But you know what I mean.

Exeunt.

SCENE changes to Sir Antony's Lodging.

Enter Sir Antony, and Ilford.

Sir Ant.

Why to tell you the truth, Ilford, there is a Woman in the case; I expect her every minute.

Ilf.

I fancy'd some such thing.

Sir Ant.

She is a thing to be fancy'd; and you wou'd think so, if you saw her.

Ilf.

Do I know her, Sir Antony?

Sir Ant.

You have seen her.

Ilf.

What nothing more of her?

Sir Ant.

None of your peevish Questions.

Ilf.

'Tis not Volante?

Sir Ant.

If it were, you don't come to quarrel for her?

Ilf.

Not I faith, Knight: I come in absolute good Nature to visit you.

Sir Ant.

Why indeed, I could not expect the favour at your hands, as Matters stand between us.

Ilf.

Nothing shall stand between us: Nothing did, but a Woman; and I come to strike up a Friendship, offensive and defensive with you, by making a ve∣ry fair offer to dispose of her.

Sir Ant.

If you mean Volante, she will dispose of her self.

Ilf.

I know she wou'd dispose of herself to you: But you won't marry her, Sir Antony: Now I am one of those foolish Fellows, who don't apprehend a Danger, till they are in't. I never think of being a Cuckold: I love Volante, and wou'd marry her— Come, come, there are Women enow for the ill-natur'd purpose of your Love; quit her to me, do a generous thing to a Wo∣man that loves you; and to a Man, who would engage you for a Friend.

Sir Ant.

Why Faith, Ilford, I wou'd do a great deal for you; but I must do something for her.

Ilf.

Do me a Favour, and don't undo her Fame.

Sir Ant.

But there's the pleasure on't—

Ilf.

To ruine the Woman that loves you—

Sir Ant.

Not so much out of ill Nature to her, as good Nature my self: Reputation must be had: And we young Men generally raise ours out of the Ruine of the Womens.

Ilf.

But Volante is a Woman of Quality,

And has Relations to do her Right, if you don't do her Reason.

Sir Ant.

Wou'd she had a Brother, to make a business on't: He cou'd not do her so much right, in fighting for her, as he wou'd do me reason, in ma∣king it the talk of the Town.

Ilf.

That wou'd set it about indeed.

Sir Ant.

If I should say, I had lay'n with her; or endeavour to set it a∣foot, 'twould fall of it self.

Ilf.

As an impotent Piece of Vanity, or Folly in a young Man.

Sir Ant.

But no body dares make a doubt of a Report, when a Relation has taken an honourable Care, by a Duel, to fix the Scandal in the Family.

Ilf.

Why, truly I think the Men of Honour are out in that business: Scandal does not fall into the hands of a Surgeon, like the Wounds of the Body for a Cure: Opening and Probing, makes the Malady but more invete∣rate, and the least Air taints it to a Mortification.

Sir Ant.

It heals best of it self, without a Plaister.

Ilf.

And Time must finish the work. I have observ'd some Women live themselves into a second Reputation—

Sir Ant.

And other Women, who by a natural Negligence, never setting up for any, from the freedom of their behaviour, have pass'd uncensur'd in those publick Places, and Pleasures, which wou'd have undone Ladies of a sprucer Conversation, but to have appear'd in.

Ilf.

So that 'tis not what they do, but not doing all of a Piece, that ruins their Character, and unders the Women—

Sir Ant.

And condemns the Men too: For 'tis not any Man's Opinion, but his shifting it to the Occasion, that makes him a Rascal; as let his Opinion be what it will, if he continues the same, and acts upon a Principle, he may be an honest Man: But 'tis no Character I wou'd advise a Friend to.

Ilf.

But this is from my business, Sir Antony! And, all things consider'd, the difficulties of getting, and the danger of enjoying Volante; in my Opinion, her Woman wou'd be the better Intrigue.

Sir Ant.

Why indeed the Woman wou'd often be the better Intrigue, were she as difficult to be compass'd as her Lady.

Ilf.

It seems the danger doubles your delight.

Sir Ant.

And we naturally covet, what we are forbid; for very often 'tis the bare pleasure of breaking the Commandment, that makes another Man's Wife more desirable than his own.

Ilf.

As at present, the bare pleasure of opposing my Interest, has carry'd on yours with Volante, farther then otherwise you design'd.

Sir Ant.

Why faith, there's something in that too, Ilsord: Not but I have a very good Opinion of the Lady.

Ilf.

Well Sir Antony, I wish you wou'd think it worth your while, to make a Friend of me—

Sir Ant.

I wou'd make a Friend of you.

Ilf.

Resign your Title then: 'tis but giving me now, what in a little time you will decline of your self: Make Volante mine, and make me yours.

Sir Ant.

I wou'd with all my heart; if I cou'd do it with Honour.

Ilf.

I warrant you with Honour.

Sir Ant.

But how can I disengage my self? Matters are gone a great way between us— she's coming up to me. [Waitwell, whispers and goes out.] Step into that Closet, you will over-hear what we say; I won't pro∣mise I can do you any service with her. But I'll do you all the good I can; that you may be sure of, and depend upon.

Ilf.

At least, seeing her here, will do some good upon me

Goes. in.

Enter Volante.

Sir Ant.

O Madam, you as are good as your word.

Vol.

I can keep it, you see, at your cost, when I like the occasion.

Sir Ant.

We men are not more punctual to an appointment, upon the hopes of a new Mistress, then you Women are, upon the first promise of a Husband.

Vol.

And it stands us upon to be diligent in both Sexes. For neither the Men, nor the Women, continue long in the mind of allowing those Favours.

Sir Ant.

Why faith, Child, the best Excuse for foolish things— (As Marriage you allow to be one—

Vol.

A convenient foolish thing.)

Sir Ant.

Is the doing 'em without thinking. But, what Madam, can't a Man sport off a little innocent Gallantry with a Lady, without being serious a 'both sides; You are in earnest, I see.

Vol.

Why there's the Jest.

Sir Ant.

And keep me to my word.

Vol.

On my word will I

Sir Ant.

You take all Advantages.

Vol.

I may be allowed to take what Advantage I can ill the beginning; I shall be sure to be the looser in the end.

Sir Ant.

In all Plays, one side must be the looser; but Marriage is the only Game, where no body can be the winner.

Vol.

That's making an ill Bett indeed, where we may loose, and can't win; Yet I am resolv'd to venture.

Sir Ant.

But Child, hast thou no more mercy upon my Youth, my Dress, my Wit, and good Humour, then to make a Husband of me!

Vol.

Since you could not have me on your own Terms, I know you'll take me on mine.

Sir Ant.

Well, there's nothing but cheating in Love: Very often indeed we are before-hand with the Women; but when we marry 'em, I'm sure they cheat us.

Vol.

And when do I cheat you, Sir Antony?

Sir Ant.

Have a care of cheating your self, Madam?

Vol.

Nay, one time or other, all Women are to be fool'd; and I had ra∣ther you should have the profit of me, then any Body else.

Sir Ant.

And pleasure too, I beseech you. I am now going with Valentine to the Nunnery, to see his new Mistress Charlot—

Vol.

And by her Interest, to see his old Mistress, Floriante; I know the story, and what the Abbe designs in it.

Sir Ant.

I shall be back in an hour; by that time the Evening will con∣ceal you the better: If then you are brave enough—

Vol.

To meet you, with a Priest for a Second.

Sir Ant.

I'll have a Father ready to bless our endeavours.

Vol.

Let him be by to see you play me fair, And do your worst or best, and never spare.

Exit Volante.

Sir Ant.

I warrant you, the first Night for an Heir.

Ilford coming forward to Sir Antony.

Ilf.

O Sir, your Servant; I see I am beholden to you.

Sir Ant.

The most in the World I gad, when you know all.

Ilf.

Know all! I know enough to convince me, that you are not capable of a serious design of serving your Honour, or your Friend—

Sir Ant.

What's the matter now, man?

Ilf.

And I was a Coxcomb for thinking you cou'd.

Sir Ant.

Nay, you may be a Coxcomb however.

Ilf.

What's that you say?

Sir Ant.

No quarrelling I beseech you, till you have Cause.

Ilf.

Till I have Cause; I think you have given me sufficient Cause—

Sir Ant.

To thank me, I have; if you know how to be greateful.

Ilf.

O, I must needs be greateful; and always confess the Obligation you have laid upon me, in promoting my Interest so visibly with Volante—

Sir Ant.

So opposite to my own with her.

Ilf.

With so much Diligence and good Nature—

Sir Ant.

Well remembred, I gad.

Ilf.

That in my hearing, and still to advance my Interest—you have made an Appointment to marry her—

Sir Ant.

And put you to bed to her.

Ilf.

How, how, Sir Antony?

Sir Ant.

I knew there was no other way to do you a Service with her; therefore I resolv'd to marry her for you, and put you to bed to her, for me.

Ilf.

Incomparable design!

Sir Ant.

A poor project of mine, Sir; if you had engag'd in't, it might ha' turn'd to account; but as 'tis, I go as I did.

Ilf.

But take me along with you.

Sir Ant.

I never impose a Curtesie upon any Man; nor quarrel, because he is not sensible I am his Friend; when you come to your self, you may re∣pent—

Ilf.

I do repent, and confess my self—

Sir Ant.

Well; what do you confess your self to be?

Ilf.

A Fool, an Ass, to pretend to vie with you in any thing.

Sir Ant.

And will you always keep in this humble Opinion of your self, and allow me the Ascendant?

Ilf.

I shall be an Ass if I don't.

Sir Ant.

But you must confess your self a Coxcomb—

Ilf.

Aye, any thing.

Sir Ant.

For pretending to censure, before you understood my design.

Ilf.

You told me I was a Coxcumb before; and now I begin to believe it my self.

Sir Ant.

Well, upon your Penitence, I pardon, and take you into favour agen.

Ilf.

And into the design.

Sir Ant.

That you must be: And to convince you that what I do is per∣fectly in your Interest, you shall marry us your self—

Ilf.

With all my heart.

Sir Ant.

I have a Habit for you. Thus in the World Men keep a pother, And marry Wives for one another: And most, like me, in Frolicks wooe, And, to their shame, as little do; But marry'd Women know the Sense, And Rights of due Benevolence: I but provide for mine, what she wou'd soon; For first, or last, that Duty must be done.

Exeunt.