Tim. But if these fears were laid, and Bacon were hanged, I look upon Virginia to be the happiest part of the world, gads zoors,-why, there's England, 'tis nothing to't. I was in England about six years ago, and was showed the Court of Aldermen; some were nodding, some saying nothing, and others very little to purpose; but how could it be otherwise? for they had neither bowl of punch, bottles of wine, or tobacco before 'em, to put life and soul into 'em, as we have here: then for the young gentlemen—their farthest travels is to France or Italy; they never come hither. Dull. The more's the pity, by my troth.

Tim. Where they learn to swear mor-blew, mor-dee

[Drinks.

Frien. And tell you how much bigger the Louvre is than Whitehall; buy a suit à-la-mode, get a swinging of some French marquise, spend all their money, and return just as they went.

Dull. For the old fellows, their business is usury, extortion, and undermining young heirs.

Tim. Then for young merchants, their exchange is the tavern, their warehouse the playhouse, and their bills of exchange billet-doux, where to sup with their wenches at the other end of the town. Now, judge you what a condition poor England is in for my part I look upon it as a lost nation, gads zoors.

Dull. I have considered it, and have found a way to save all yet.

Tim. As how, I pray?

Dull. As thus we have men here of great experience and ability: now, I would have as many sent into England as would supply all places and offices, both civil and military, d'ye see; their young gentry should all travel hither for breeding, and to learn the mysteries of state.'

Next we have a picture of the judicial proceedings of a Virginian bench of magistrates; Hazard is an Englishman, who has come to Virginia to mend his fortune, and has got into trouble through his ignorance of the place. Friendly is another Englishman, his acquaintance, but who has been longer in the colony.

"Tim. Mr. Clerk, let my cause come next. Cler. The defendant's ready, sir.

[Hazard comes to the Board.

Tim. Brothers of the Bench, take notice, that this hector here, coming into Mrs. Flirt's ordinary, where I was with my brother Dullman and Lieutenant Boozer, we gave him good counsel to fall to work: now, my gentleman here was affronted at this forsooth, and makes no more to do but calls us scoundrels, and drew his sword on us; and had not I defended myself by running away, he had murdered me, and assassinated my two brothers.

Whiff. What witness have you, brother?

Tim. Here's Mrs. Flirt and her maid Nell; besides, we may be witness for one another; I hope our words may be taken.

Cler. Mrs. Flirt and Nell are sworn.

[They stand forth.

Whim. By the oaths that you have taken, speak nothing but the truth. Flirt. An't please your worships, your honours came to my house, where you found this young gentleman; and your honours invited him to drink with your honours; where, after some opprobrious words given him, Justice Dullman and Justice Boozer struck him over the head; and after that indeed the gentleman drew.

Tim. Mark that, brother, he drew.

Haz. If I did, it was se defendendo.

Tim. Do you hear that, brothers; he did it in defiance.

Haz. Sir, you ought not to sit judge and accuser too.

Whiff. The gentleman's i'th' right, brother; you cannot do't according to law.

Tim. Gads zoors, what, new tricks, new querks? Haz. Gentlemen, take notice, he swears in court. Tim. Gads zoors, what's that to you, sir? Haz. This is the second time of his swearing. Whim. What, do you think we are deaf, sir? Tim. I desire he may be bound to his good behaviour, fined, and deliver up his sword; what say you, brother?

Come, come, proceed.

Whim. He's asleep; drink to him, and waken him

the cause by sleeping, brother.

Dull. Justice may nod, but never sleeps, brother deliver his sword-a good motion; let it be done.

:

[Jogs Dull., who nods.

-you have missed [Drinks.

-you were at

[Drinks.

Haz. No, gentlemen, I wear a sword to right myself. Tim. That's fine, i'faith; gads zoors, I've worn a sword this dozen years, and never could write myself.

Whiff. Ay, 'twould be a fine world if men should wear swords to right themselves; he that's bound to the peace shall wear no sword.

Whim. I say, he that's bound to the peace ought to wear no peruke; they may change 'em for black or white, and then who can know them?

Haz. I hope, gentlemen, I may be allowed to speak for myself.

Whiff. Ay, what can you say for yourself: did you not draw your sword, sirrah?

Haz. I did.

Tim. 'Tis sufficient; he confesses the fact, and we'll hear no more.
Haz. You will not hear the provocation given?

Dull. 'Tis enough, sir, you drew

Whim. Ay, ay, 'tis enough; he drew-let him be fin'd.

Friend. The gentleman should be heard; he's kinsman too to Colonel John Surelove.

Tim. Hum--Colonel Surelove's kinsman?

Whiff. Is he so? Nay then, all the reason in the world he should be heard, brothers.

Whim. Come, come, Cornet, you shall be friends with the gentleman; this was some drunken bout, I'le warrant you.

Tim. Ha, ha, ha! so it was, gads zoors.

Whiff. Come, drink to the gentleman, and put it up.

Tim. Sir, my service to you; I am heartily sorry for what's passed, but it was in my drink.

[Drinks. Whim. You hear his acknowledgment, sir, and when he's sober he never quarrels. Come, sir, sit down; my service to you."

When affairs become serious in the colony, the justices of the peace, who by their offices are also commanders in the colonial army, are drawn out and encamped under the deputy-governor, Colonel Wellman, and we have a picture of colonial courage equally

to the advantage of the Virginian magistrates with the above sample of colonial justice.

"Enter Dull., Tim., Whim., and Whiff, all in buff, scarf, and feather. Down. So, gentlemen, I see you're in a readiness.

Tim. Readiness! What means he? I hope we are not to be drawn out to go against the enemy, major.

Dull. If we are, they shall look a new major for me.

Well. We were debating, gentlemen, what course were best to pursue against this powerful rebel.

Friend. Why, sir, we have forces enough, let's charge him instantly; delays are dangerous.

Tim. Why, what a damned fiery fellow is this?

Down. But if we drive him to extremities, we fear his siding with the Indians.

Dull. Colonel Downright has hit it: why should we endanger our men against a desperate termagant? If he love wounds and scars so well, let him exercise on our enemies-but, if he will needs fall upon us, 'tis then time enough for us to venture our lives and fortunes.

Tim. How! we go to Bacon! under favour I think 'tis his duty to come to us, an you go to that, gads zoors.

Friend. If he do, 'twill cost you dear, I doubt, cornet.-I find by our list, sir, we are four thousand men.

Tim. Gad zoors, not enough for a breakfast for that insatiate Bacon, and his two lieutenant-generals, Fearless and Daring.

[Whiff sits on the ground, with a bottle of brandy.

Whim. A morsel, a morsel.

Well. I am for an attack, what say you, gentlemen, to an attack ?-What, silent all? What say you, major?

Dull. I say, sir, I hope my courage was never in dispute. But, sir, I am going to marry Colonel Downright's daughter here, and should I be slain in this battle, t'would break her heart: besides, sir, I should lose her fortune. [Speaks big. [To Whim.

Well. I'm sure here's a captain will never flinch.
Whim. Who, I, an't like your honour?

Well. Ay, you.

Whim. Who, I? Ha, ha, ha! Why, did your honour think that I would fight?

you take commissions?

Well. Fight! yes; why else do Whim. Commissions! Oh, Lord, O Lord, take commissions to fight! Ha, ha, ha! that's a jest, if all that take commissions should fight— Well. Why do you bear arms then?

Whim. Why, for the pay; to be called captain, noble captain; to show, to cock and look big, and bluff as I do; to be bowed to thus as we pass; to domineer and beat our soldiers. Fight, quoth a! Ha, ha, ha!

Friend. But what makes you look so simply, cornet? Tim. Why a thing that I have quite forgot; all my accounts for England are to be made up, and I'm undone if they be neglected-else I would not flinch for the stoutest he that wears a sword

[Looking big. [Whiff almost drunk.

Down. What say you, Captain Whiff?
Whiff. I am trying, colonel, what mettle I'm made on; I think I'm

valiant; I suppose I have courage, but I confess 'tis little of the d- breed; but a little inspiration from the bottle, and the leave of my Nancy, may do wonders."

All this is broad caricature; it shows us rather how the wits in the mother country despised the colonists, than the true character of the colonists themselves; it was the stage pandering to the taste of the multitude. But in those comedies which represent society in England the picture is more truthful; and in reading scene after scene, we feel ourselves involuntarily carried back to the days of Charles the Second. All the social vices of that period, rather highly painted no doubt, especially when political prejudice steps in, are brought before our eyes. Aphra Behn is especially severe on the foibles of her own sex. Her estimate of the female character is certainly not a high one, and she takes no pains to conceal it. Most of her female characters are vain, selfish, and intriguing-few of them are chaste. They are loose in their discourse, and licentious in their manners. It was nevertheless a true picture of the times. Marriage was a despised covenant, entered into merely for the sake of obtaining fortunes and procuring heirs. Hear the method in which the covenant was arranged, as told in Mrs. Behn's comedy

of The Town Fop.'

“Sir Tim. That's all one, sir; the old people have adjusted the matter, and they are the most proper for a negociation of that kind, which saves us the trouble of a tedious courtship.

Friend. That the old people have agreed the matter, is more than I know. Sir Tim. Why, lord sir, will you persuade me to that? Don't you know that your father (according to the method in such cases, being certain of my estate) came to me thus :-Sir Timothy Tawdry, you are a young gentleman, and a knight; I knew your father well; and, my right worshipful neighbour, our estates lie together; therefore, sir, I have a desire to have a near relation with you. At which I interrupted him, and cried, Oh, lord sir, I vow to fortune, you do me the greatest honour, sir, and the restBel. I can endure no more- -He marry fair Celinda! Friend. Prithee, let him alone.

[Aside.

Sir Tim. To which he answered, I have a good fortune-have but my son Ned, and this girl, called Celinda, whom I will make a fortune suitable to yours; your honourable mother, the Lady Tawdrey, and I have as good as concluded the match already To which I (who, though I say it, am well enough bred for a knight) answered the civility thus:-I vow to fortune, sir-I did not swear, but cried-I protest, sir, Celinda deserves- -no, no, I lie again, 'twas merits-Ay, Celinda merits a much better husband than I. Friend. You speak more truth than you are aware of. [Aside."

With such sentiments we can easily imagine what were fashionable wives and fashionable husbands. In the same play, which is one of

Mrs. Behn's pictures of London society, Sir Timothy, being presented to the lady to whom his parents have so kindly betrothed him, proceeds somewhat rudely to interrogate her as to her qualities. Among the rest, he asks—

"Sir Tim. Can you love?

Cel. O yes, sir, many things: I love my meat; I love abundance of adorers; I love choice of new clothes, new plays; and, like a right woman, I love to have my will.

Sir Tim. Spoke like a well-bred person, by fortune! I see there's hopes of thee, Celinda; thou wilt in time learn to make a very fashionable wife, having so much beauty. I see attracts, allurements, wanton eyes, the languishing turn of the head, and all that invites to temptation.

Cel. Would that please you in a wife?

Sir Tim. Please me! Why, madam, what do you take me to be?—a sot —a fool ?—or a dull Italian, of the humour of your brother? No, no, I can assure you, she that marries me shall have franchise. But, my pretty miss, you must learn to talk a little more.

Cel. I have not wit and sense enough for that.

Sir Tim. Wit! O la, O la! Wit! as if there were any wit required in a woman when she talks. No, no matter for wit or sense; talk but loud, and a great deal to show your white teeth, and smile, and be very confident, and 'tis enough—Lord, what a sight 'tis to see a pretty woman stand right up an end in the middle of a room, playing with her fan, for want of something to keep her in countenance. No, she that is mine, I will teach to entertain at another rate."

In another of Mrs. Behn's comedies, Sir Patient Fancy,' a courtier very much after the fashion of Sir Timothy, is made to give the lady, to whom his parents have betrothed him, a watch. This leads to the following conversation, in which we have an interesting picture of the way in which a woman of fashion spent her days and nights.

"Lod. Now, sister, you must know there's a mystery in this watch; 'tis a kind of hieroglyphic that will instruct you how a married woman of your quality ought to live.

Sir Cred. How, my watch mysteries and hieroglyphics! the devil take me if I knew of any such virtues it had. [They are all looking on the watch. Lod. Beginning at eight, from which down to twelve you ought to employ in dressing, till two at dinner, till five in visits, till seven at play, till nine in the park, ten at supper with your lover, if your husband be not at home, or keep his distance, which he's too well bred not to do; then from ten to twelve are the happy hours, the bergere, those of entire enjoyment.-

Sir Cred. Say you so? Hang me if I shall not go near to think I may chance to be a cuckold by the shift.

Isab. Well, sir, what must she do from twelve till eight again?

Lod. Oh! those are the dull conjugal hours for sleeping with her own husband, and dreaming of joys her absent lover alone can give her.

Sir Cred. Nay, an she be for sleeping, zoz, I am as good at that as she can be for her heart, or snoring either.'