ACT III. SCENE I.

Enter Mrs. Lovejoy.

Mrs. Lov. Here do I follow and caress my Lady, in hopes to steal a Spark 'mongst her Admirers; I have five hundred Pounds in the fourteen per Cent, a Gentlewoman's Fortune in past Ages, but now 'twon't buy a Haberdasher of small Ware. Sir Harry offers me a genteel Settlement; Time was, when a kept Madam elbow'd the whole Drawing-Room; but now we have a virtuous Court agen, a Lord's Mistress is almost as despicable as a Citizen's Wife.—Suppose I trick the Collonel into Marriage—To bridle at a Review in Hyde-Park, have rich Plunder brought me from Flanders, and boast in Company how much my Husband ballances the Pow'r of Europe; but then comes Peace, and Half-pay, and the Brigadier's Lady must condescend to dress Heads, make Mantoes, or vainly feed her Pride, by personating what she really was on the most renown'd Drury-Lane Theatre.—Suppose I rail at the Government, and so trap the rich Major; but then he's trapt in a Plot, some poor Lord begs his Estate, and I'm to live upon the mighty Comfort of having it again when the Pretender comes—Or what if I wheedle in with Mr. Nick-nack—To have a fine House in Billiter-Lane, prodigious great Dinners, and ready Cash for Play. And, faith, now-a-days, a rich Merchant's Wife keeps as late Hours, Games as high, and makes as bulky a Figure as e'er a Dutchess in the two united Kingdoms.

Enter Sir Harry.

Sir Har. How kind this was, my dear, pretty Mrs. Lovejoy, to leave so much good Company to meet me here alone.

Mrs. Lov. How kind you are to your self Sir Harry, in harbouring so ridiculous a Notion.

Sir Har. Are you resolv'd then, Madam, to let this gay, this proper well-set Person o' mine pine away like a green Sickness Girl, when I have so generously offer'd you two hundred Pound a Year, only to be a little whimsical with you.

Mrs. Lov. Two hundred a year! wou'd you make a Whore of me Sir Harry?

Sir Har. A Whore! have a care, Child, who you reflect upon, a Lady of two hundred a Year, a Whore; Whores are Creatures that wear Pattens and Straw-hats. I'd fain hear any body call a kept Mistress, Whore, while there's Law to be had, if I were she, I'd make 'em severely pay for't.

Mrs. Lov. But pray, Sir Harry, where's the Difference between a common Woman, and one that's kept; they have equally lost their Reputation, and no body of any Character will visit 'em.

Sir Har. Visit 'em! Ladies of different Orders shou'd converse amongst themselves, I know a Set of kept Mistresses that visit one another with all the Ceremony of Countesses, take place of one another according to the Degree of their Keepers, are call'd to one another's Labours, and live in perfect Sister-hood like the Grand Seignor's Seraglio; two of 'em indeed had a violent Quarrel t'other day, but 'twas only about State Affairs, one happening to be a Whig, and t'other a Tory.

Mrs. Lov. Good Sir Harry, what have you seen so loose in my Behaviour to attack me at this rate?

Sir Har. Why, look you, Child, do'st thee consider what an Income two hundred a Year is; some Country Gentlemen han't more to make their Elder Sons Esquires, and raise Portions for eleven awkard Daughters. Besides, my Dear, thou art but a whiffling sort of a Pinnace, I have been proffer'd lovely, large, First Rate Ladies for half the Mony. There's Winny Wag-tail in Channel Row, wou'd have left it to my Generosity; Mrs. Tippet the Furrier's Wife in Walbrook wou'd have taken five hundred Pound down, and Sufan Sigh-fort the quaking Sempstress had n't the Assurance to ask me above the rent of her Shop.——I must tell you, Love, the Nation's over stock'd with Women, I can have a hundred and fifty Furbuloe Scarf-makers for as many Silver Thimbles; and but last Long Vacation, a very considerable Pleader offer'd me his two Daughters for Six and Eight Pence a Night.

Mrs. Lov. Sir Harry, this Discourse suits not my Genius, I have a Fortune, tho' not thousands enough to keep me from that odious thing you'd tempt me to; therefore if you pursue this Humour any farther, I must acquaint my Lady with it.

Sir Har. Why, then, Madam, do I most devoutly pray to Venus there, and each kind Creature here, that the Men may avoid you, as if you had n't a Lure about you, that for madness you may turn Gam'ster, lose all your Fortune at Play, and then grow crooked for want of Mony to buy you a new Pair of Stayes. [Exit.

Mrs. Lov. Was ever any thing so impudent! he's a charming Fellow tho', and two hundred a Year is a charming Allowance too.—But Virtue! Virtue!— Oh! that I had liv'd in good King Some-body's Days.

Enter Major Bramble.

Bra. Madam Lovejoy, your most humble Servant, here's a Ring that was pawn'd to me for twenty Guineas by a Welch Knight, on his being chose High Sheriff o'the County, and the Mony not being paid in due time, it's become forfeited; I therefore entreat the Favour of you to wear it.

Mrs. Lov. Your very humble Servant, Major, they are delicate Stones indeed; but what Service must I do you in return of so great a Compliment?

Bra. Only that, Madam, of being my Advocate to Lady Rodomont, whose Beauty I have long admir'd, and whose Estate I do profoundly reverence. [Aside.] Nor can I on a just survey of my Person and Parts find the least Obstacle, why her Inclinations shou'd n't mount like mine, that without much Ceremony or foppish Courtship, we might unite Circumstances, and astonish the World at the Sight of a couple so prodigiously well pair'd.

Mrs. Lov. Were my Fortune, Major, equal to my Lady's, my Judgment wou'd be as much admir'd in such a Choice as my Happiness wou'd be envy'd; but my Lady's of so uncommon a cold Constitution so whimsically gay, and fond of new Diversions, she laughs at ev'ry serious Thought of Love.

Bra. Perhaps, Madam, my Lady never had an Offer worth her serious Notice, the Fops a course chatter and teaze the Women, but when great Statesmen condescend to Love, and while they Court, Affairs of State stand still; a Lady shou'd be proud of such an Offer; what Woman wou'd not think her self most highly honour'd to have an amorous Judge approach her with his Tipstaff.

Mrs. Lov. Ay, Major, to have the State stand still, as if a Woman were of mightier Moment wou'd sooth a Lady's Pride, 'twou'd be so pretty to adjourn the Parliament when their Mistresses send for 'em to Picquet; and were my Lady sensible how vast an Honour you design her, she certainly wou'd own an equal Passion.

Bra. [Aside] I profess a very ingenious Woman, and cou'd I but be satisfy'd, she were entirely in the French Int'rest, I I wou'd prefer her to Madam Maintenon's Cabinet Council, to consult about the next Invasion.

Enter Nicknack.

Nic. Oh! Mrs. Lovejoy, I have been hurry'd quite out of my Senses, three more Ships are sail'd in upon me this Morning; the Atlas Merchant Man, Captain Sunburnt Commander from the East Indies, the Dighton Gally from the musty Islands, and the Hankerchief Frigot from Smirna.

Mrs. Lov. Pray, Mr. Nicknack, when's the Sale?

Nic. Now, now, Madam, and the fat India Women from all Parts o'the Town do croud and scold like a Parcel of Fish-Wives at a Mackrel-Boat—Mrs. Trapes in Leadenhall Street is hawling away the Umbrellas for the walking Gentry, Mrs. Kanister in Hatton Garden, buys up all the course Bohee-Tea for the Holborn Ladies Breakfasts, and Mrs. Furnish at St. James's has order'd Lots of Fans, and China, and India Pictures to be set by for her, 'till she can borrow Mony to pay for 'em.——But, Madam, I ha' brought you a couple of the prettiest Parrokeets, and the charming'st Monkey for my Lady that ever was seen; a Coster-monger's Wife kiss'd it, burst into Tears, and said, 'Twas so like an only Child she had just bury'd. I thought the poor Woman wou'd ha' swoon'd away.

Mrs. Lov. Thank you good Mr. Nicknack.

Nick. But, Madam, have you told my Lady, what a violent Inflammation I have about her?

Mrs. Lov. She's now at Cards with the Collonel, and next to the new Monkey you'll be the welcom'st Creature alive to her.—Sweet Major excuse me, for I must run to my dear Parrokeets. [Exit.

Bra. Prithee, Friend, what Beau-maggot has thy Pericranium lately bred to give thee pretensions to Lady Rodomont?

Nick. And pray, Major; what prejudice have the Ladies done you, that you shou'd revenge it by offering 'em your disagreeable self? For he that murmus at so good a Queen, must certainly be disaffected to the whole Sex.

Bra. Do'st thou imagine a Woman of sense that has seen he great Court of France, and visited Madam de Trollop, Madam de Frippery, and Madam de Twangdillion, where Ladies are great Politicians, and talk of Ramparts, Bastions, and Aqueducts will prefer thy Parrots and Jack-daws to a Man of Politicks, whom the Prince of Conti consulted about the Kingdom of Poland. Monsieur Chamillard about the late Invasion.

Nick. I can't suppose, Major, a Lady of her Intellects, will fling her self away on a Grumbletonian, to have her Estate confiscated, receive Visits in the Gate-house, when her Husband's clapt up for Treason, and afterwards quarrel with the Heralds about the length of her Veil, when her Spouse made his Exit at Tyburn.

Bra. Why ha'st thou the assurance to despise Heroes that die in a State Cause, St. Charnock, and St. Gregg; these were Men that made a noise i'the World, whose Names are in ev'ry News Paper, and let the Cause be what it will, I honour People that make a noise in the World.—But prithee, Mr. Nicknack, what makes you Citizens that spring from a little Counting-house, up three Steps at the further End of a dark Ware-house, attempt Women o'Quality?

Nick. Why, Sir, I can settle Threescore Thousand Pounds upon her.

Bra. Settle Threescore Thousand Pounds upon her;—Wou'd you buy a Wife as you do Scamony and Cocheneal by Inch of Candle? If I were a Woman, I shou'd hate the sound of an Inch of Candle. I'll settle Major Bramble upon her, an inestimable Jewel, and if she has no more sense than to refuse me; for a Chocolate-house, Jelley Eater, she has travell'd to as little improvement, as some other Beau Ladies, that admire the Agility of the French, before the Stability of the Swiss Cantons; therefore you may go tire her with your Monkey tricks, to give her a true relish of my more weighty Arguments.—In the mean time, I'll step to the Tow'r, to congratulate the safe Arrival of some very great Persons out of Scotland. [Exit.

Nick. Now has this old Fellow the vanity to think his Person and Qualities are as acceptable to a fine Woman as if he had been bred at Court; but Asses will herd and bray amongst the fair Kine, like a knot of Stock-jobbing Jews that crowd Garraways Coffee-house, and fright away us Beau Merchants with the stink of Bread and Cheese Snuff. [Exit.