Enter Olivia as a Man, Teresia in Masquerade; the Scene opens, and discovers Lady Youthly, Lady Blunder, Mirtilla, Manage, Prince Frederick in a rich Habi, Welborn in one like his, with a Cloke over him, stands aside, and several others of both Sexes.

Oliv. Oh, my dear Teresia, I’m lost in Love! I’ve seen a Man,—or rather ’tis an Angel! so gay, so soft, so charming, and so witty; so dress’d! so shap’d! and danc’d with such an Air!

Ter. Hey day! Prithee where’s this Wonder to be seen?

Oliv. Why dost thou ask? Hast thou not seen a Man of Dress, and Movement of uncommon Fashion?

Ter. A great many, very odd, and fantastick, I’m sure my dear Man is none of ’em. Sighs.

Oliv. Thy Heart when fir’d burns easily, and soft, but I am all impatient, Darts, and Flames, and all the effects of Love are panting in my Heart, yet never saw his Face: but see, he comes, and I must find a way to let him know the mischiefs he has done.

Mir. Endimion, where’s Sir Morgan?

Oliv. At his usual Diversion, Madam, drinking.

Mir. Do you wait near me to Night, I may perhaps have kinder Business for you e’er the Morning.

Oliv. You heap too many Blessings on me, Madam.

Prince. Oh, turn thy lovely Eyes upon thy Slave, that waits and watches for a tender Look.

Mir. Oh, Sir, why do you press a yielding Heart too much, undone by what you’ve said already?

Oliv. Those soft Addresses must be those of Love. Aside.

Mir. My Honour was in danger when I promis’d—and yet I blush to tell you I was pleas’d, and blest the dear necessity that forc’d me.

Oliv. Ha! ’tis the Man I love—and courts Mirtilla, and she receives him with inviting Looks. ’Sdeath, she’s a common Lover! already I’m arriv’d to Jealousy!

Enter George in Masquerade, with a Paper on his Back and Breast, goes to Mirtilla, sees one courting her.

Geo. What gilded thing is that?—I must disturb ’em—’Tis I, Mirtilla, languishing for the appointed Happiness, while you, perhaps, are taken up with different Thoughts—

Mir. Lejere! How very feeble do old Lovers charm! Only the new and gay have pow’r to warm—How shall I put him off? For now my ambitious Love declares for Frederick; ’tis great to enslave a Prince. Aside.

—Lejere—wait till I give the word—perhaps it may be late—go mix your self i’th’ Crowd, you may be else suspected— Goes from him.

Ter. I have a shreud guess that this should be my Man by his Shape, and Mein. Looking round about George.

Let me see—What’s this written on his Back?—To be lett ready furnish’d— Reading it.

A very good hearing: So ho, ho, ho, who’s within here? Claps him on the Back.

Geo. Who’s there? Exit Olivia.

Ter. Love and Fortune.

Geo. Two very good Friends of mine, prithee who art thou that bring’st ’em?

Ter. A wandring Nymph, that has had a swinging Character of your Person and Parts—if thou be’st the Man, prithee, dear Stranger, let me see thy Face; and if I’m not mistaken, ’tis ten to one, but we may go near to strike up some odd Bargain or other.

Geo. And I am as likely a Fellow for some odd Bargain or other, as ever you met with—Look ye, am I the Man?

Ter. Let me see—a very handsome Face, inclining to round; fine wanton Eyes, with a plaguy Roguish Lear; plump, round, red Lips; not tall, nor low, and extremely well fashion’d. Reads all this in her Tablets.

—Ay, ay, you are the Man—

Geo. I am glad on’t, and prithee, dear Creature, let me see if thou art not the Woman—

Ter. Heav’n! what Woman, Sir?

Geo. Why, any Woman that’s pretty, witty, young, and good-natur’d.

Ter. I had rather shew anything almost than my Face.

Geo. Faith, and that’s kind; but every thing in its due time: I love to arrive at Happiness by degrees, there’s as much Pleasure in the Journey of Love, as in the Arrival to’t, and the first Stage is a handsom Face.

Ter. Where you bait a while, take a short Survey, and away.

Geo. To Wit, and good Humour; where a Man finds Pleasure enough to engage him a long while.

Ter. Then to all the small Villages, call’d little Freedoms, Kissing, Playing, Fooling, Sighing, Dying—and so on to the last Stage, where Whip and Spur laid by, all tir’d and dull, you lazily lie down and sleep.

Geo. No, I’m a more vigorous Lover: And since in the Country of True Love there remains a Terra Incognita, I shall always be making new Discoveries.

Ter. True Love! is there such a thing in the whole Map of Nature?

Geo. Yes, I once discover’d it in my Voyage round the World.

Ter. Sure ’tis some enchanted Place, and vanishes as soon as ’tis approach’d.

Enter Sir Rowland.

Geo. Faith, let’s set out for it, and try; if we lose our Labour, we shall, like Searchers for the Philosophers Stone, find something that will recompense our pains.— Lady Youthly sees her, and sends her Woman to take her from him.

Ha, gone—I must not part so with you—I’ll have you in my Eye.

The Spanish Dance: Whilst they dance, the Prince talks to Mirtilla.

Mir. This Night gives you an Assignation—I tremble at the thought—Ah, why will you pursue me thus to Ruin? Why with resistless Charms invade my Heart, that cannot stand their Force—alone—without my Woman?—the Enterprize with you would be too dangerous.

Prince. Dangerous to be ador’d! and at your Feet behold your Slave making eternal Vows?

Mir. If I were sure that you would pass no further—

Prince. Let the fond God of Love be my Security—will you not trust a Deity?

Mir. Whom should she trust, that dares not trust her self?

Geo. That is some Lover, whom I must observe. Aside.

Mir. Alas, the Foe’s within that will betray me, Ambition, and our Sex’s Vanity—Sir, you must prevail—

Prince. And in return, for ever take my Soul.

Mir. Anon I’ll feign an Illness, and retire to my Apartment, whither this faithful Friend shall bring you, Sir. Pointing to Manage.

Geo. Hum!—that looks like some Love Bargain, and Manage call’d to Witness. By Heav’n, gay Sir, I’ll watch you.

Ter. But hark ye, my Fellow-Adventurer, are you not marry’d?

Geo. Marry’d—that’s a Bug-word—prithee if thou hast any such Design, keep on thy Mask, lest I be tempted to Wickedness.

Ter. Nay, truth is, ’tis a thousand pities to spoil a handsom man, to make a dull Husband of: I have known an old batter’d Bully of Seventy, unmarry’d, more agreeable for a Gallant, than any scurvy, out-of-humour’d Husband at Eight and Twenty.

Geo. Gad, a thousand times.

Ter. Know, I have Five Hundred Pounds a Year.

Geo. Good.

Ter. And the Devil and all of Expectations from an old Woman.

Geo. Very good.

Ter. And this Youth, and little Beauty to lay out in love. Pulls off her Mask.

Geo. Teresia! the lovely Maid design’d for my Mother! now, what a Dog am I? that gives me the greater Gust to her, and wou’d fain cuckold my Father. Talks to her aside. Mirtilla seems to faint.

Man. My Lady faints—help, help.

Mir. Only the Heat oppresses me—but let it not disturb the Company, I’ll take the Air a little, and return. Goes out with Manage.

Geo. Is this design’d or real?—perhaps she is retir’d for me—Mrs. Manage.— Manage re-enters, he pulls her by the Sleeve.

Man. Hah! Monsieur Lejere! what shall I feign to put him off withal. Aside.

Geo. Why dost thou start? How does my dear Mirtilla?

Man. Reposing, Sir, awhile, but anon I’ll wait on her for your admittance.

Prince Frederick puts on Welborn’s Cloke, goes out, and Welborn enters into the Company dress’d like the Prince.

Geo. Ha, she spoke in passing by that gay thing—What means it, but I’ll trace the Mystery.

Sir Row. The young People are lazy, and here’s nothing but gaping and peeping in one another’s Vizards; come, Madam, let you and I shame ’em into Action.

Sir Rowland and Lady Youthly dance. After the Dance, Olivia enters with a Letter, and gives it to Welborn.

Wel. Ha! what’s this, Sir, a Challenge?

Oliv. A soft one, Sir.

Wel. A Billet—whoever the Lady be, Reads.

She merits something for but believing I am worth her Mirth.

Oliv. I know not, Sir, how great a Jest you may make of it; but I assure you the Lady is in earnest, and if you be at leisure to hear Reason from her—

Wel. Fair and softly, my dear Love-Messenger, I am for no hasty Bargains; not but I shou’d be glad to hear Reason from any of the Sex—But I have been so damnably jilted—Is she of Quality?

Oliv. Yes.

Wel. Then I’ll not hear any thing from her: they are troublesome, and insolent; and if she have a Husband, to hide her Intrigues she has recourse to all the little Arts and Cunnings of her Sex; and she that jilts her Husband, will her Lover.

Oliv. She is not troubled with a Husband, Sir.

Wel. What, she’s parted from the Fool! then she’s expensive, and for want of Alimony, jilts all the believing Block-heads that she meets with.

Oliv. But this is a Maid, Sir.

Wel. Worse still! At every turn she’s raving on her Honour; then if she have a Kinsman, or a Brother, I must be challeng’d.

Oliv. Sir, you mistake, my Lady is for Matrimony.

Wel. How!

Oliv. You have not forsworn it, I hope.

Wel. Not so—but—

Oliv. If a Lady, young and handsom, and Ten Thousand Pounds—

Wel. Nay, I am not positive—

Enter Sir Morgan, and Sir Merlin, drunk, singing.

Wise Coxcombs be damn’d, here’s a health to the Man,

That since Life is but short, lives as long as he can.

Sir Morg. Where is my Lady Mirtilla, Rogues?

Sir Mer. And my Mistress, Rascals? For we are resolv’d to shew our selves in Triumph to our Wives and Mistresses.

L. Youth. Your Mistress, Sir Merlin? mistake not your Mark.

Sir Mer. Ha! Art thou there, old Cathedral? Why, thou look’st as magnificiently as old Queen Bess in the Westminster-Cupboard.

Sir Morg. Lookye as de see, when Adam wore a Beard, she was in her Prime, or so, de see. Sings.

L. Youth. Sir, you are a saucy Jack, and your Father shall correct you.

Sir Mer. My Father! my Father’s an old Toast, de see; and I hope to see him hang’d.

Sir Row. Here’s a Heathen-Christian! see his Father hang’d!

Sir Mer. Ay, hang’d, and all the old Fathers in Christendom. Why, what a Pox shou’d Fathers trouble the World for? when I come to reign in Parliament, I will enact it Felony, for any Father to have so little Grace to live, that has a Son at Years of Discretion.

Sir Row. A damn’d Rogue, I’ll disinherit him immediately.

L. Blun. Is it so great a Crime, Brother, for a Gentleman to be drunk?

Sir Mer. You lye like a Son of a Whore—I have been drinking Confusion to all the Fathers and Husbands in England.

Sir Morg. How, Sir, Confusion to Husbands! Look ye, de see, Sir, swallow me that Word, or I’ll make you deposit all the conjugal Wine you have drunk.

Sir Mer. I deposit all your Wine! Sirrah, you’re a Blunderbuss.

Sir Morg. Sirrah, you are a diminutive Bully.

Sir Mer. Sirrah, you’re the Whore of Babylon, and I defy you.

Sir Morg. Lookye, de see, I scorn to draw upon a drunken Man, or so, I being sober; but I boldly challenge you into the Cellar, where thou shalt drink till thou renounce thy Character, or talk Treason enough to hang thee, and that’s fair and civil.

Sir Mer. Agreed; and when I’m drunk enough to ravish, I’ll cuckold my old Dad, and fight him for his Mistress.

Sir Row. I have no Patience; I’ll kill the Dog, because I’ll have the Law on my side—Come on, Sir.

Draws, the Ladies run out. Sir Merlin draws. George runs in and parts ’em.

Geo. Villain! Rascal! What, draw upon thy Father!

Sir Row. Pray, Sir, who are you? that I may thank you for my Life.

Geo. One, Sir, whose Duty ’twas. Pulls off his Vizard.

Sir Row. What, my dear George!—I’ll go and cut off the Intail of my Estate presently, and thou shalt have it all, Boy, thou shalt—

Exeunt all but George.

Geo. Fortune is still my Friend: Had but Mirtilla been so! I wonder that she sends not to me: my Love’s impatient, and I cannot wait—while the dull Sot is boozing with his Brother-Fools in the Cellar, I’ll softly to the Chamber of my Love—Perhaps she waits me there—

Exit.