Sir H. Madam-I-I--Zouns, I cannot speak to her!-Oh, hypocrisy! hypocrisy! what a charming sin art thou!

Ang. He is caught; now to secure my conquestI thought, sir, you had business to communicate.

Sir H. Business to communicate! How nicely she words it!--Yes, madam, I have a little business to communicate. Don't you love singing-birds, madam ?

Ang. That's an odd question for a lover-Yes, sir. Sir H. Why, then, madam, here's a nest of the prettiest goldfinches that ever chirp'd in a cage; twenty young ones, I assure you, madam.

Ang. Twenty young ones! What then, sir? Sir H. Why then, madam, there are--twenty young ones'Slife, I think twenty is pretty fair. Ang. He's mad, sure!--Sir Harry, when you have learned more wit and manners, you shall be welcome here again. [Exit.

Sir H. Wit and manners! 'Egad, now, I conceive there is a great deal of wit and manners in twenty guineas-I'm sure 'tis all the wit and manners I have about me at present. What shall I do?

Enter CLINCHER JUNIOR and DICKY.

What the devil's here? Another cousin, I warrant ye!-Harkye, sir, can you lend me ten or a dozen guineas instantly? I'll pay you fifteen for them in three hours, upon my honour.

Clinch. jun. These London sparks are plaguy impudent! This fellow, by his assurance, can be no less than a courtier.

Dicky. He's rather a courtier by his borrowing. Clinch. jun. 'Faith, sir, I han't above five guineas

about me.

Sir H. What business have you here then, sir ?— For, to my knowledge, twenty won't be sufficient. Clinch. jun. Sufficient! for what, sir?

Sir H. What, sir! Why, for that, sir; what the devil should it be, sir? I know your business, notwithstanding all your gravity, sir.

Clinch. jun. My business! Why, my cousin lives here.

Sir H. I know your cousin does live here, and Vizard's cousin, and every body's cousin Harkye, sir, I shall return immediately; and if you offer to touch her till I come back, I shall cut your throat, rascal. [Exit.

Clinch. jun. Why, the man's mad, sure!

Dicky. Mad, sir! Ay--Why, he's a beau. Clinch. jun. A beau! What's that? Are all madmen beaux ?

Dicky. No, sir; but most beaux are madmen.~ But now for your cousin. Remember your three scrapes, a kiss, and your humble servant.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.

A Street.

Enter SIR HARRY WILDAIR, COLONEL STANDARD following.

Colonel S. Sir Harry! Sir Harry!

Sir H. I am in haste, Colonel; besides, if you're in no better humour than when I parted with you in the park this morning, your company won't be very agreeable.

Colonel S. You're a happy man, Sir Harry, who are never out of humour. Can nothing move your gall, Sir Harry?

Sir H. Nothing but impossibilities, which are the same as nothing.

Colonel S. What impossibilities?

Sir H. The resurrection of my father to disinherit me, or an act of parliament against wenching. A man of eight thousand pounds per annum to be vexed! No, no; anger and spleen are companions for younger brothers.

Colonel S. Suppose one called you a son of a whore behind your back.

Sir H. Why, then would I call him rascal behind his back; so we're even.

Colonel S. But suppose you had lost a mistress.
Sir H. Why, then I would get another.

Colonel S. But suppose you were discarded by the woman you love; that would surely trouble you. Sir H. You're mistaken, Colonel; my love is neither romantically honourable, nor meanly mercenary; 'tis only a pitch of gratitude: while she loves me, I love her; when she desists, the obligation's void.

Colonel S. But to be mistaken in your opinion, sir; if the Lady Lurewell (only suppose it) had discarded you—I say, only suppose it

your discharge by me.

-and had sent

Sir H. Pshaw! that's another impossibility.
Colonel S. Are you sure of that?

Sir H. Why, 'twere a solecism in nature. Why, we are finger and glove, sir. She dances with me, sings with me, plays with me, swears with me, lies with me.

Colonel S. How, sir?

Sir H. I mean in an honourable way; that is, she lies for me. In short, we are as like one another as a couple of guineas.

Colonel S. Now that I have raised you to the highest pinnacle of vanity, will I give you so mortifying a fall, as shall dash your hopes to pieces.-I pray your honour to peruse these papers. [Gives him the Packet.

Sir H. What is't, the muster-roll of your regiment, colonel?

Colonel S. No, no, 'tis a list of your forces in your last love campaign; and, for your comfort, all disbanded.

Sir H. Pr'ythee, good metaphorical colonel, what d'ye mean?

Colonel S. Read, sir, read; these are the Sibyl's leaves, that will unfold your destiny.

Sir H. So it be not a false deed to cheat me of my estate, what care I-[Opening the Packet.] Humph! my hand!-To the Lady Lurewell--To the Lady Lurewell--To the Lady Lurewell-What the devil hast thou been tampering with, to conjure up these spirits?

Colonel S. A certain familiar of your acquaintance, sir. Read, read.

Sir H. [Reading.] Madam, my passionso natural your beauty contending-force of charmsmankind- -eternal admirer, WILDAIR.-I ne'er was ashamed of my name before.

Colonel S. What, Sir Harry Wildair out of humour! ha ha! ha! Poor Sir Harry! More glory in her smile than in the Jubilee at Rome; ha! ha! ha! But then her foot, Sir Harry; she dances to a miracle! ha ha! ha! Fie, Sir Harry; a man of your parts write letters not worth keeping!

Sir H. Now, why should I be angry that a woman is a woman? Since inconstancy and falsehood are grounded in their natures, how can they help it?— Here's a copy of verses too: I must turn poet, in the devil's name-Stay-'Sdeath, what's here?-This is her hand――Oh, the charming characters!-[Reading.]--My dear Wildair,-That's I, 'egad! This huff-bluff Colonel-that's he-is the rarest fool in nature-the devil he is!-and as such have I used him. With all my heart, 'faith !—I had no better way of let