SCENE a Dressing-Room, Table and Toylet Furnish'd, &c.

Enter Marsilia in a Night-Gown, followed by Patience.

Mar. Why, thou thoughtless inconsiderable Animal! Thou driv'ling dreaming Lump! Is it not past Nine o'Clock? Must not I be at the Rehearsal by Ten, Brainless? And here's a Toylet scarce half furnish'd!

Pat. I am about it, Madam.

Mar. Yes, like a Snail!—--. Mount, my aspiring Spirit! Mount! Hit yon azure Roof, and justle Gods! [Repeats.

Pat. Madam, your things are ready.

Mar. Abominable! Intollerable! past enduring! [Stamps. Speak to me whilst I'm Repeating! Interrupting Wretch! What, a Thought more worth Than worlds of thee!—--what a Thought have I lost!— Ay, ay, 'tis gone, 'tis gone beyond the Clouds. [Cries. Whither now, Mischievous? Do I use to Dress without Attendance? So, finely prepar'd, Mrs. Negligence! I never wear any Patches!

Pat. Madam.

Mar. I ask you if ever you saw me wear any Patches? Whose Cook maid wert thou prithee? The Barbarous Noise of thy Heels is enough to put the Melody of the Muses out of ones Head.——Almond Milk for my Hands.——Sower! By Heav'n this Monster designs to Poyson me.

Pat. Indeed, Madam; 'tis but just made; I wou'd not offer such an affront to those charming Hands for the World.

Mar. Commended by thee! I shall grow sick of 'em.—— Well, but Patty, are not you vain enough to hope from the fragments of my Discourse you may pick up a Play? Come, be diligent, it might pass amongst a Crowd, And do as well as some of its Predecessors.

Pat. Nothing but flattery brings my Lady into a good humour. [Aside. With your Ladyship's directions I might aim at something.

Mar. My Necklace.

Pat. Here's a Neck! such a Shape! such a Skin!—-- [Tying it on. Oh! if I were a Man, I shoud run Mad!

Mar. Humph! The Girl has more Sense than I imagin'd, She finds out those Perfections all the Beau-mond have admired.— Well, Patty, after my Third day I'll give you this Gown and Pettycoat.

Pat. Your Ladyship will make one of Velvet, I suppose.

Mar. I guess I may; see who knocks. [Goes out, and returns.

Pat. Madam, 'tis Mrs. Wellfed.

Mar. That ill-bred, ill shap'd Creature! Let her come up, she's foolish and open-hearted, I shall pick something out of her that may do her Mischief, or serve me to Laugh at.

Pat. Madam, you invited her to the Rehearsal this Morning.

Mar. What if I did? she might have attended me at the Play-house.——Go, fetch her up.

Enter Mrs. Wellfed and Patty.

Mrs. Wellfed. Good morrow, Madam.

Mar. Your Servant, dear Mrs. Wellfed, I have been longing for you this Half-hour.

Mrs. Wellf. 'Tis near Ten.

Mar. Ay, my Impertinence is such a Trifle—But, Madam, are we not to expect some more of your Works?

Mrs. Wellf. Yes; I am playing the Fool again.—— The story is——

Mar. Nay, for a Story, Madam, you must give me leave to say, there's none like mine; The turns are so surprizing, the Love so passionate, the Lines so strong. 'Gad I'm afraid there's not a Female Actress in England can reach 'em.

Mrs. Wellf. My Language!

Mar. Now you talk of Language, what do you think a Lord said to me t'other day? That he had heard I was a Traveller, and he believ'd my Voyage had been to the Poets Elyzium, for mortal Fires cou'd never inspire such words! Was not this fine?

Mrs. Wellf. Extravagantly fine! But, as I was saying——

Mar. Mark but these two Lines.

Mrs. Wellf. Madam, I have heard 'em already; you know you repeated every word of your Play last Night.

Mar. I hope, Mrs. Wellfed, the Lines will bear the being heard twice and twice, else 'twou'd be bad for the Sparks who are never absent from the Play-house, and must hear 'em Seventeen or Eighteen Nights together.

Mrs. Wellf. How Madam! that's Three or Four more than the Old Batchelour held out.

Mar. Madam, I dare affirm there's not two such Lines in the Play you nam'd: Madam, I'm sorry I am forc'd to tell you, Interruption is the rudest thing in the World.

Mrs. Wellf. I am dumb. Pray proceed.

Mar. Pray observe.——

My Scorching Raptures make a Boy of Jove,
That Ramping God shall learn of me to Love.

My Scorching——

Mrs. Wellf. Won't the Ladies think some of those Expressions indecent?

Mar. Interrupting again, by Heav'n!—--Sure, Madam, I understand the Ladies better than you. To my knowledge they love words that have warmth, and fire, &c. in 'em.—Here, Patty, give me a Glass of Sherry; my Spirits are gone.——No Manchet Sot! Ah! the Glass [Brings a Glass. not clean! She takes this opportunity, because she knows I never fret before Company, I! do I use to Drink a Thimble full at a time?— Take that to wash your Face. [Throws it in her Face.

Pat. These are Poetical Ladies with a Pox to 'em. (Aside.

Mar. My Service to you Madam, I think you drink in a Morning.

Mrs. Wellf. Yes, else I had never come to this bigness, Madam, to the encreasing that inexhausted spring of Poetry: that it may swell, o'erflow, and bless the barren Land.

Mar. Incomparable, I protest!

Pat. Madam Calista to wait upon your Ladyship.

Mar. Do you know her Child?

Mrs. Wellf. No.

Mar. Oh! 'Tis the vainest; proudest, senseless Thing, she pretends to Grammar, writes in Mood and Figure; does every thing methodically.——Poor Creature! She shews me her Works first; I always commend 'em, with a Design she shou'd expose 'em, and the Town be so kind to laugh her out of her Follies.

Mr. Wellf. That's hard in a Friend.

Mar. But 'tis very usual.——Dunce! Why do you let her stay so long? [Exit Pat. Re-enter with Calista. My best Calista! The charming'st Nymph of all Apollo's Train, let me Embrace thee!

Mr. Wellf. So, I suppose my Reception was preceeded like this. [Aside.]

Mar. Pray know this Lady, she is a Sister of ours.

Calista. She's big enough to be the Mother of the Muses. [Aside. Madam, your Servant.

Mrs. Wellf. Madam, yours. [Salute.

Mar. Now here's the Female Triumvirate; methinks 'twou'd be but civil of the Men to lay down their Pens for one Year, and let us divert the Town, but if we shou'd, they'd certainly be asham'd ever to take 'em up again.

Calis. From yours we expect Wonders.

Mar. Has any Celebrated Poet of the Age been lately to look over any of your Scenes, Madam?

Calis. Yes, yes, one that you know, and who makes that his pretence for daily Visits.

Mar. But I had rather see one dear Player than all the Poets in the Kingdom.

Calis. Good Gad! That you shou'd be in Love with an Old Man!

Mar. He is so with me; and you'll grant 'tis a harder Task to Re-kindle dying Coals, than set Tinder on a Blaze.

Mr. Wellf. I guess the Spark. But why then is your Play at this House?

Mar. I thought you had known 't had been an Opera; and such an Opera! But I wont talk on't, 'till you see it. Mrs. Wellfed, is not your Lodgings often fill'd with the Cabals of Poets and Judges?

Mr. Wellf. Faith, Madam, I'll not tell a Lye for the matter; they never do me the Honour.

Mar. I thought so, when I ask'd her. [Aside to Calista.

Mr. Wellf. My Brats are forc'd to appear of my own raising.

Mar. Nay, Mrs. Wellfed, they don't come to others to assist, but admire.

Pat. Madam, Mr. Aw'dwell and Mr. Praiseall are below.

Mar. Dear Ladies, step in with me, whilst I put on my Mantua: Bring 'em up, and then come to me.——What does that Aw'dwell here again to Day? Did not I do him the Honour to go abroad with him yesterday? Sure that's enough for his Trifle of a Scarf. Come Ladies. That Ramping God shall learn of me to Love. [Exeunt.

Enter Mr. Aw'dwell and Mr. Praiseall.

Mr. Aw'dw. So, Mr. Praiseall, you are come, I suppose, to pay your Tribute of Encomiums to the Fair Lady and her Works.

Mr. Prais. The Lady sometimes does me the Honour to Communicate; my poor Abilities are at her Service, tho' I own my self weak.

Aw'dw. Then you are not fit for the Ladies Service, to my Knowledge.

Prais. Why, Sir? I was long an Oxonion, 'till a good Estate and the Practice of the Law, tempted me from my studies.

Aw'dw. Sir, I'll tell you my Opinion of the University Students: They are commonly as dull as they are dirty, and their Conversation is as wretched as their Feeding; yet every Man thinks his Parts unquestionable, if he has been at Oxford.——Now all the Observation I have made of Oxford, is, it's a good Place to improve Beggars, and to spoil Gentlemen, to make young Master vain, and think no Body has Wit but himself.

Prais. While the Lady has more complaisant Sentiments, yours shan't disturb me, Sir, I assure you.

Aw'dw. What is't bewitches me to Marsilia! I know her a Coquet; I know her vain and ungrateful; yet, wise as Almanzor, knowing all this, I still love on! [Aside.

Prais. I wish Marsilia wou'd come! That fellow looks as if he had a Mind to quarrel. I hate the sight of a bent Brow in a Morning; I am always unlucky the whole Day after.

Aw'dw. Oh, one thing more of your Darling Oxford. You know, if you get Learning, it robs Man of his noblest Part, Courage. This your mighty Bard, by Experience owns, the Learned are Cowards by Profession. Do you feel any of your Martial Heat returns?

Prais. Ay, he will quarrel, I find.—— [Aside. Sir, I was never taught to practice Feats of Arms in a Lady's Anti-Chamber.

Aw'dw. The Fool's afraid: Yet shall I have the Pleasure to see Marsilia prefer this Fop to me before my Face. [Exit.

Enter Marsilia, Calista, and Mrs. Wellfed.

Mars. I must beg your Learned Ladyship's Pardon. Aristotle never said such a Word, upon my Credit.——Patty, What an Air these Pinners have? Pull 'em more behind.——Oh my Stars, she has pull'd my Head-cloaths off!

Calist. I cannot but re-mind you, Madam, you are mistaken; for I read Aristotle in his own Language: The Translation may alter the Expression.

Aw'dw. Oh that I cou'd but Conjure up the Old Philosopher, to hear these Women pull him in pieces!

Mar. Nay, Madam, if you are resolv'd to have the last Word, I ha' done; for I am no lover of Words, upon my Credit.

Prais. I am glad to hear her say sh'as done, for I dare not interrupt her.—Madam, your Ladyship's most humble.——

Mars. Mr. Praiseall, Yours.

Prais. Charming Calista, I kiss those enchanting Fingers.

Mars. Humph! That might ha' been said to me more properly. [Aside.

Prais. Mrs. Wellfed, tho' last, not least.

Mrs. Wellf. That's right, Mr. Praiseall.

Prais. In Love, I meant, Mrs. Wellfed.

Mr. Wellf. Prethee, add Good Tribonus, don't steal by halves, Mr. Praiseall.

Prais. Lord, you are so quick!

Mar. Well, you are come to go with us to the Rehearsal.

Prais. 'Tis a pleasing Duty, Madam, to wait on your Ladyship: But then to hear the wondrous Product of your Brain, is such a Happiness, I only want some of Marsilia's Eloquence to express it.

Aw'dw. How this Flattery transports her! Swells her Pride almost to bursting. [Aside.

Mars. I do avow, Mr. Praiseall, you are the most complaisant Man of the Age.

Aw'dw. Are you yet at Leisure, Madam, to tell me how you do?

Mars. You see my Engagements, and have chosen a very busie Time to ask such an insignificant Question.

Aw'dw. What, it wants a Courtly Phrase?

Mars. Must I meet with nothing but interruption? Mr. Praiseall!

Prais. Madam?

Mars. I think I have not seen you these two Days.

Prais. So long I've liv'd in Greenland, seen no Sun, not felt no warmth.

Mars. Heav'ns! Mr. Praiseall, why don't you write? Words like those ought to be preserv'd in Characters indelible, not lost in Air.

Aw'dw. 'Tis pity your Ladyship does not carry a Commonplace Book.

Mars. For your self 'twou'd be more useful.—— But, as I was going to tell you, Mr. Praiseall, since I saw you, I have laid a Design to alter Cateline's Conspiracy.

Prais. An Undertaking fit for so great a Hand.

Mars. Nay, I intend to make use only of the first Speech.

Aw'dw. That will be an Alteration indeed!

Mars. Your Opinion was not ask'd. Nor wou'd I meddle with that, but to let the World, that is so partial to those old Fellows, see the difference of a modern Genius.——You know that Speech, Mr. Praiseall, and the Ladies too, I presume.

Calista. I know it so well, as to have turn'd it into Latin.

Prais. That was extraordinary. But let me tell you, Madam Calista, 'tis a harder Task to mend it in English.

Mars. True, true, Mr. Praiseall; That all the Universe must own.——Patty. Give me another Glass of Sherry, that I may speak loud and clear.——Mr. Praiseall, my Service to you.

Prais. I kiss your unequall'd Hand.

Mrs. Wellfed. This drinking is the best part of the Entertainment in my Opinion. [Aside.

Mars. Now, Mr. Praiseall.

Prais. I am all Ear.

Mars. I wou'd you were——I was just beginning to speak.

Prais. Mum, I ha' done a Fault.

Aw'dw. Sure this Scene will chace her from my Soul. [Aside.

Mars. Thy Head! Thy Head! Proud City!— I'll say no more of his; I don't love to repeat other Peoples Works;—now my own.— Thy solid Stones, and thy cemented Walls, this Arm shall scatter into Atoms; then on thy Ruins will I mount! Mount my aspiring Spirit mount! Hit yon Azure Roof, and justle Gods;— [Ex. Patty. My Fan, my Fan, Patty.— [All clap.

Prais. Ah! Poor Ben! Poor Ben! You know, Madam, there was a famous Poet pick'd many a Hole in his Coat in several Prefaces.—He found fault, but never mended the Matter—Your Ladyship has lay'd his Honour in the Dust.—Poor Ben! 'Tis well thou art dead; this News had broke thy Heart.

Mars. Then in the Conspiracy, I make Fulvia a Woman of the nicest Honour; and such Scenes!

Mrs. Wellf. Madam, you forget the Rehearsal.

Mars. Oh Gods! That I could live in a Cave! Ecchoes wou'd repeat, but not interrupt me; Madam, if you are beholden to those Creatures, I am not; let 'em wait, let 'em wait, or live without me if they can.

Enter Patty.

Pat. Madam, your Chair Men are come.

Mars. Let them wait, they are paid for't.

Pat. Not yet to my Knowledge, what ever they be after the third Day; there's a long Bill I'm sure.— [Aside.

Mars. How do you think to go Mrs. Wellfed? Shall Pat. call you another Chair?

Mrs. Wellf. I have no Inclination to break poor Mens Backs; I thank you, Madam, I'll go a Foot.

Calist. A Foot!

Mrs. Wellf. Ay, a Foot, 'tis not far, 'twill make me leaner. Your Servant Ladies. [Exit.

Mars. Your Servant.

Prais. A bouncing Dame! But she has done some things well enough.

Mars. Fye, Mr. Praiseall! That you shou'd wrong your Judgment thus! Don't do it, because you think her my Friend: I profess, I can't forbear saying, her Heroicks want Beautiful Uniformity as much as her Person; and her Comedies are as void of Jests as her Conversation.

Prais. I submit to your Ladyship.

Aw'dw. Madam, shall I crave leave to speak a few Words with you before you go?

Mars. I must gratify you, tho' 'tis to my Prejudice.—My Dear Calista, be pleas'd to take my Chair to the Play-House, and I'll follow you presently.

Calist. I will; but make haste.

Mars. Fear not, yours waits below, I suppose, Sir.

Prais. Yes Madam.

Mars. Pray take Care of the Lady 'till I come.

Prais. Most willingly. [Exit.

Mars. What a ridiculous conceited thing it is!— A witty Woman conceited, looks like a handsome Woman set out with Frippery:

Aw'dw. Railing shou'd be my part: But, Marsilia, I'll give it a genteeler Name, and call it complaining.

Mars. Pshaw! You are always a complaining I think. Don't put me out of Humour, now I am just going to the Rehearsal.

Aw'dw. Why are you so ungrateful? Is it from your Lands water'd by Helicon, or my honest dirty Acres, your maintenance proceeds? Yet I must stand like a Foot-boy, unregarded, whilst a noisy Fool takes up your Eyes, your Ears, your every Sense.

Mars. Now, Mr. Aw'dwell, I'll tell you a strange thing: The difference between you and I, shall create a Peace.—As thus: You have a mind to quarrel, I have not; so that there must be a Peace, or only War on your side. Then again, you have a mind to stay here, I have a mind to go, which will be a Truce at least.— [Is going.

Aw'dw. Hold, Madam, do not teaze me thus; tho' you know my Follies and your Power, yet the ill-us'd Slave may break his Chain.

Mars. What wou'd the Man have? If you'll be good humour'd, and go to the Play-house, do; if not, stay here. Ask my Maid Questions, increase your Jealousie, be dogged and be damn'd.

Aw'dw. Obliging? If I shou'd go, I know my Fate; 'twou'd be like standing on the Rack.

Mars. While my Play's Rehearsing! That's an Affront I shall never forgive whilst I breath.

Aw'dw. Tho' I thought not of your Play?

Mars. That's worse.

Aw'dw. Your Carriage, your cruel Carriage, was the thing I meant. If there shou'd be a Man of Quality, as you call 'em, I must not dare to own I know you.

Mars. And well remembred. My Lord Duke promis'd he'd be there.—Oh Heav'ns! I wou'd not stay another moment, No, not to finish a Speech in Catiline. What a Monster was I to forget it! Oh Jehu! My Lord Duke, and Sir Thomas! Pat. another Chair, Sir Thomas and my Lord Duke both stay.— [Exit running.

Aw'dw. Follow, follow. Fool, be gorg'd and glutted with Abuses, then throw up them and Love together.— [Exit.

SCENE

the Play-House.

Enter Mr. Johnson, Mr. Pinkethman, Mrs. Lucas, and Miss Cross.

Mrs. Cross. Good morrow Mrs. Lucas; why what's the Whim, that we must be all dress'd at Rehearsal, as if we play'd?

Mrs. Lucas, 'Tis by the Desire of Madam Maggot the Poetess, I suppose.

Mrs. Cross. She is a little whimsical, I think, indeed; for this is the most incomprehensible Part I ever had in my Life; and when I complain, all the Answer I get is, 'tis New, and 'tis odd; and nothing but new things and odd things will do—Where's Mr. Powell, that we may try a little before she comes.

Mr. Johnson. At the Tavern, Madam.

Mrs. Cross. At the Tavern in a Morning?

Mr. Johns. Why, how long have you been a Member of this Congregation, pretty Miss, and not know honest George regards neither Times nor Seasons in Drinking?

Enter Mrs. Wellfed.

Mrs. Cross. O! Here comes Mrs. Wellfed. Your Servant Madam.

Mrs. Wellf. Your Servant Gentlemen and Ladies.

Mrs. Lucas. Sit down, Mrs. Wellfed, you are out of Breath.

Mrs. Wellf. Walking a Pace, and this ugly Cough—[Coughs. Well the Lady's a coming, and a couple of Beaus, but I perceive you need not care who comes, you are all dress'd.

Mrs. Cross. So it seems. I think they talk she expects a Duke.

Mrs. Wellf. Here's two of the Company.

Enter Mr. Praiseall and Calista.

Prais. Dear Mrs. Cross, your Beauties Slave.

Mrs. Cross. Upon Condition, 'tis then, if I have no Beauty, you are no Slave; and the matter is just as 'twas.

Prais. Sharp, Sharp.—Charming Isabella, let me kiss the Strap of your Shoe, or the Tongue of your Buckle.

Mrs. Cross. Now have I such a mind to kick him i'th' Chops.— [Aside. Oh fye, Sir, What d'ye mean?

Calista. So, now he's got among the Players, I may hang my self for a Spark.

Mr. Pink. Prithee Johnson, who is that?

Mr. Johns. He belongs to one of the Inns of Chancery.

Mr. Pink. A Lawyer?

Mr. Johns. I can't say that of the Man neither, tho' he sweats hard in Term-time, and always is as much at Westminster, as he that has most to do.

Mr. Pink. Does he practice?

Mr. Johns. Walking there, much.

Mr. Pink. But I mean, the Laws?

Mr. Johns. How to avoid its Penalty only. The Men are quite tir'd with him, for you shall generally see him oagling after the Women. He makes a shift to saunter away his Hours till the Play begins; after you shall be sure to behold his ill-favour'd Phyz, peeping out behind the Scenes, at both Houses.

Mr. Pink. What, at one time?

Mr. Johns. No, Faith, 'tis his moving from one House to 'tother takes up his time, which is the Commodity sticks of his Hands, for he has neither Sense nor Patience to hear a Play out.

Mr. Pink. I have enough of him, I thank you Sir.

Calista. How d'ye Madam? [To Mrs. Wellfed.

Mrs. Wellf. At your Service, Madam.

Calista. Marsilia committed me to the Care of Mr. Praiseall; but more powerful Charms have robb'd me of my Gallant.

Mrs. Wellf. I thank Heav'n, I'm big enough to take care of myself. Indeed to neglect a young pretty Lady, expose her unmask'd amongst a Company of wild Players, is very dangerous.

Calist. Unmask'd! Humph! I'll be ev'n with you for that. [Aside. Madam, I have read all your excellent Works, and I dare say, by the regular Correction, you are a Latinist, tho' Marsilia laught at it.

Mrs. Wellf. Marsilia shews her Folly, in laughing at what she don't understand. Faith, Madam, I must own my ignorance, I can go no further than the eight Parts of Speech.

Calist. Then I cannot but take the Freedom to say, you, or whoever writes, imposes upon the Town.

Mrs. Wellf. 'Tis no imposition, Madam, when ev'ry Body's inclination's free to like, or dislike a thing.

Calist. Your Pardon, Madam.

Prais. How's this? Whilst I am making Love, I shall have my two Heroines wage War. Ladies, what's your Dispute?

Mrs. Wellf. Not worth appealing to a Judge, in my Opinion.

Calista. I'll maintain it with my Life. Learning is absolutely necessary to all who pretend to Poetry.

Mrs. Wellf. We'll adjourn the Argument, Marsilia shall hear the Cause.

Prais. Ay, if you can perswade her to hold her Tongue so long.

Mrs. Wellf. I wish I cou'd engage you two in a Latin Dispute, Mr. Praiseall, and you shou'd tell how often the Lady breaks Pris—Pris—What's his Name? His Head, you know.

Prais. Priscian, you mean; Hush! Hush!

Mrs. Wellf. He cares not for entring the Lists neither. Come, Mr. Praiseall, I'll put you upon a more pleasing Task. Try to prevail with that Fair Lady, to give us her New Dialogue.

Prais. What, my Angel?

Mrs. Wellf. Mrs. Cross, I mean.

Prais. There is no other She, Madam.

Mrs. Cross. Sir!

Prais. Will you be so good, to charm our Ears, and feast our Eyes; let us see and hear you in Perfection.

Mrs. Cross. This Complement is a Note above Ela. If Marsilia shou'd catch me anticipating her Song, she'd chide sadly.

Mrs. Wellf. Oh, we'll watch. I'll call Mr. Leveridge.

Song by Mrs. Cross.——A Dialogue.

Prais. Thank you Ten thousand times, my Dear.

Calista. I'm almost weary of this illiterate Company.

Mrs. Wellf. Now, Mr. Praiseall, get but Mrs. Lucas's New Dance, by that time sure the Lady will come.

Prais. I'll warrant ye my little Lucas.

SINGS.

With a Trip and a Gim,
And a Whey and a Jerk at Parting.

Where art thou, my little Girl?

Little Boy. She is but drinking a Dish of Coffee, and will come presently.

Prais. Pshaw! Coffee! What does she drink Coffee for? She's lean enough without drinking Coffee.

Mr. Pink. Ay, but 'tis good to dry up Humours.

Prais. That's well, I Faith! Players dry up their Humours! Why what are they good for then? Let her exert her Humours in Dancing, that will do her most good, and become her best.——Oh, here she comes!—--You little Rogue, what do you drink Coffee for?

Mrs. Lucas. For the same Reason you drink Claret; because I love it.

Prais. Ha, Pert! Come, your last Dance, I will not be deny'd.

Lucas. I don't intend you shall; I love to Dance, as well as you do to see me.

Prais. Say'st thou so? Come on then; and when thou hast done, I'll treat you all in the Green Room with Chocolate; Chocolate, Huzzy; that's better by half than Coffee. All agreed.

A Dance by Mrs. Lucas.

Prais. Titely done, I Faith, little Girl.

Enter Mrs. Knight.

Mrs. Cross. Good morrow Mrs. Knight. Pray, dear Mrs. Knight, tell me your Opinion of this Play; you read much, and are a Judge.

Mrs. Knight. Oh your Servant, Madam! Why truly, my Understanding is so very small, I can't find the Ladies meaning out.

Mrs. Cross. Why, the Masters admire it.

Mrs. Knight. So much the worse. What they censure, most times prospers; and commonly, what they admire, miscarries: Pshaw! They know nothing. They have Power, and are positive; but have no more a right Notion of things, Mrs. Cross, than you can have of the Pleasures of Wedlock, that are unmarry'd.

Mrs. Cross. I submit to better Judgment in that, Madam. I am sure the Authoress is very proud and impertinent, as indeed most Authors are.——She's a Favourite, and has put 'em to a world of Expence in Cloaths. A Play well-dress'd, you know, is half in half, as a great Writer says; The Morocco Dresses, when new formerly for Sebastian, they say enliven'd the Play as much as the Pudding and Dumpling Song did Merlin.

Mrs. Knight. This Play must be dress'd if there's any Credit remains, tho' they are so cursedly in debt already.

Mrs. Cross. It wants it, Madam, it wants it.

Mr. Wellf. Well, Ladies, after this Play's over, I hope you'll think of mine; I have two excellent Parts for ye.

But, We are at your Service.

Mrs. Wellf. Mr. Pinkethman! Mr. Pinkethman! What, d'ye run away from a Body?

Mr. Pink. Who!? I beg your Pardon, Madam.

Mrs. Wellf. Well, Mr. Pinkethman, you shall see what I have done for you in my next.

Mr. Pink. Thank ye, Madam; I'll do my best for you too.

Mrs. Wellf. Mr. Johnson!

Mr. Pink. So, now she's going her Rounds.

Mrs. Wellf. Mr. Johnson!—Duce on him, he's gone! Well, I shall see him by and by.

Enter Mr. Praiseall.

Prais. Ladies, the Chocolate is ready, and longs to be conducted by your white Hands to your Rosie Lips!

Mrs. Wellf. Rarely express'd! Come, Ladies.

[Exeunt.

Manent Mrs. Knight and Mrs. Wellfed.

Mrs Knight. I believe our People wou'd dance after any Tom-Dingle for a pen'orth of Sugar-plums.

Mrs. Wellf. Come Mrs. Knight, let you and I have a Bottle of Sherry.

Mrs. Knight. No, I thank you, I never drink Wine in a Morning.

Mrs. Wellf. Then you'll never write Plays, I promise you.

Mrs. Knight. I don't desire it.

Mrs. Wellf. If you please, Madam, to pass the time away, I'll repeat one of my best Scenes.

Mrs. Knight. Oh Heav'ns! No Rest!—-- [Aside. Madam, I doubt the Company will take it amiss. I am your very humble Servant. [Exit hastily.

Mrs. Wellf. What! Fled so hastily! I find Poets had need be a little conceited, for they meet with many a Bauk. However, scribling brings this Satisfaction, that like our Children, we are generally pleas'd with it our selves.

So the fond Mother's rapt with her pratling Boys,
Whilst the free Stranger flies th' ungrateful Noise.

[Exit.

The End of the First ACT.