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enchanting masquerades, ravishing operas, and Æs. And you all night, madam :-Is it not all the polite enjoyments of Elysian.

Æs. This is a language unknown to me, Mrs. Riot. I keep the best company, sir; lady----no such fine doings here, and very lit- and day-light is no agreeable sight to a polite de good company (as you call it) in Elysi- assembly; the sun is very well and comfort

able, to be sure, for the lower part of the creaMrs. Riot. What! no operas! eh! no Ely- tion; but to ladies who have a true taste of sian then! (Sings fantastically in Italian.] pleasure, wax candles, or no candles, are pre'Şjortunato monticelli ! banished Elysian, as ferable to all the sun-beams in the universewell as the Haymarket! Your taste here, I sup- Æs. Preposterous fancy! pose, rises no higher than your Shakspeares and Mrs. Riot. And so, most delicate, sweet sir, your Johnsons; oh, you Goats and Vandils ! you don't approve my scheme; ha! ha! ha! in the name of barbarity take them to yourselves, oh, you ugly devil you! have you the vanity to we are tired of them upon earth--one goes in- imagine, people of fashion will mind what you deed to a playhouse sometimes, because one say? Or, that to learn politeness and breeding, does not know how else one can kill one's time it is necessary to take a lesson of morality out -every body goes, because--because--all the of Æsop's fables, ha! ha! ba! world's there--but for my part-call Scarroon, Æs. It is necessary to get a little reflection and let him take me back again, I'll stay no somewhere; when these spirits leave you, and longer here-stupid immortals.

your senses are surfeited, what must be the conEs. You are a happy woman, that have nei- sequence? ther cares nor follies to disturb you.

Mrs. Riot. Oh, I have the best receipt in Mrs. Riot. Cares! ha! ha! ha! Nay, now the world for the vapours; and lest the poiI must laugh in your ugly face, my dear; son of your precepts should taint my vivacity, what cares, does your wisdom think, can en-I must beg leave to take it now, by way of ter into the circle of a fine lady's enjoyments? anecdote.

Es. By the account I have just heard of a fine Æs. Oh, by all means ignorance and valady's life, her very pleasures are both follies nity! and cares; so drink the water and forget them, Mrs. Riot. (Drawing out a card.] Lady Ranmadam.

tan's compliments to Mrs. Riot. Mrs. Riot. Oh gad! that was so like my husband, now -forget my follies ! forget the fashion ! forget my being, the very quincet

SONG. lence and emplity of a fine lady! the fellow would make me as great a brute as my hus- The card invites, in crowds we fly, band,

To join the jovial rout, full cry; £s. You bave a husband, then, madam?

What joy, from cares and plagues all day, Mrs. Riot. Yes, I think soma husband

To hie to the midnight hark-away. and no husband come, fetch me some of your water; if I must forget something, I had Nor want, nor pain, nor grief, nor care, as good forget him, for he's grown insufferable Nor dronish husbands enter there; o'late.

The brisk, the bold, the young, and gay, Es. I thought, madam, you had nothing to All hie to the midnight hark-away. coruplain ofMirs. Riot. One's husband, you know, is al

Uncounted strikes the morning clock, most next to nothing.

And drowsy watchmen idly knock; As. How has he offended you?

Till day-light peeps, we sport and play, Mrs. Riot. The man talks of nothing but And roar to the jolly hark-away. bis money, and my extravagance-Won't re

When tir'd with sport, to bed we creep, move out of the filthy city, though he knows I

And kill the tedious day with sleep ; dit for the other end of the town, nor leave

Tomorrow's welcome call obey, otř his nasty merchandizing, though I've laboured to convince him, he loses money by

And again to the midnight hark away. it. The man was once tolerable enough, and let me have money when I wanted it; but now Mrs. Riot. There's a life for you, you old he's never out of a tavern, and is grown so va- fright! so trouble your head no more about liant, that, do you know-he has presumed to your betters; I am so perfectly satisfied with contradict me, and refuse me money upon every myself, that I will not alter an atom of me, for occasion.

all you can say; so you may bottle up your Es. And all this without any provocation on philosophical waters for your own use, or for the your side?

fools that want them.--Gad's my life! there's Mrs Riot. Laud! how should I provoke him? Billy Butterfly in the grove, I must go to himI seldom see him, very seldom speak to the crea- we shall so rally your wisdom between us—ha! ture, unless I want money, besides, he's out all ha! ha! ha! day


The brisk, the bold, the young, the gay, after my journey-Suppose now you introduce All hie to the midnight hark-away. me to Proserpine, who knows how far my figure

[Erit, singing and address may tempt her; and if her majesty

is over nice, shew ine but her maids of honour, Æs. Unhappy woman ! Nothing can retrieve and I'll warrant you, they'll snap at a bit of fresh her; when the head has once a wrong bias, mortality. 'tis ever obstinate, in proportion to its weak- Æs. Monstrous ! ness : but here comes one who seems to have no D. Mun. Well, well, if it is monstrous, I say occasion for Lethe to make him more happy no more; if her majesty and retinue are so very than he is.

virtuous, I say no more; but I'll tell you what,

old friend, if you'll lend me your wife for half Enter Drunken Man and Tailor.

an hour; when you make a visit above, you shall

have mine as long as you please; and if upon D. Man. Come along, neighbour Snip; come trial, you should like mine better than your own, along, tailor; don't be afraid of hell before you you shall carry her away to the devil with you, die, you snivelling dog, you.

and ten thousand thanks into the bargain. Tai. For Heaven's sake, Mr. Riot, don't be Æs. This is not to be borne; either be silent, so boisterous with me, lest we should offend the or you'll repent this drunken insolence. powers below.

D. Man. What a cross old fool it is !- I preÆs. What in the name of ridicule, have we sume, sir, from the information of your hump, here! So, sir, what are you?

and your wisdom, that your name is-is-what D. Man. Drunk-very drunk, at your ser- the devil is it? vice.

Æs. Æsop, at your service. Æs. That's a piece of information I did not D. Man. The same, the same-I knew you

well enough, you old sensible pimp you—many D. Man. And yet it's all the information I a time has my flesh felt birch upon your accan give you.

count; pr’ythee, what possessed thee to write Æs. Pray, sir, what brought you hither? such foolish old stories of a cock and a bull, and D. Man. Curiosity, and a hackney-coach. I don't know what, to plague poor innocent

Æs. I mean, sir, have you any occasion for lads with? It was damned cruei in you, let me my waters?

tell you that. D. Mun. Yes, great occasion; if you'll do me Às. I am now convinced, sir, I have written the favour to qualify them with some good arrack them to very little purpose. and orange juice.

D. Man. To very little, I assure you: but neEs. Sir!

ver mind it-Damn it, you are a fine old GreD. Mun. Sir! don't stare so, old gentleman ; cian, for all that-{Claps him on the back.] Come let us have a little conversation with you. here, Snip-is not he a fine old Grècian? And

Æs. I would know if you have any thing op- though he is not the handsomest, or best dressed presses vour mind, and makes you unhappy. man in the world, he has ten times more sense

D. Man. You are certainly a very great fool, than either you or I have. old gentleman; did you ever know a man drunk Tai. Pray, neighbour introduce me. and unhappy at the same time?

D. Man. I'll do it-Mr. Asop, this sncakÆs. Never otherwise, for a man who has lost ing gentleman is my tailor, and an honest man his senses

he was, while he loved his bottle; but since le D. Mun. Ilas lost the most troublesome com- turned methodist, and took to preaching, he has panions in the world, next to wives and bum- cabbaged one yard in six from all his customers. bailiffs.

Now you know him, hear what he has to say, Æs. But, pray, what is your business with while I go and pick up in the wood here. l'pon

my soul, you are a fine old Grecian! D. Man. Only to demonstrate to you that you

[Erit Drunken Man.

Æs. [To Tailor.] Come, friend, don't be deÆs. Your humble gervant.

jected; what is your business? D. Man. And to stew you, that whilst I can Tai. I am troubled in mind. get such liquor as I have been drinking all night, Æs. Is your case particular, friend? I shall never come for your water specifics Tai. No, indeed, I believe it is pretty general against care and tribulation; however old gen- in our parish. tleman, if you'll do one thing for me, I shan't Æs. What is it? speak out, friend. think my time and conversation thrown away Tai. It runs continually in my head, that I upon you. Æs. Any thing in my power.

Æs. What? D. Man. Why, then, here's a small matter for Tai. A cuckold. you; and, do you hear me? get me one of the Æs. Have a care, friend ? jealousy is a rank best whores in your territories.

weed, and chiefly takes root in a barren soil. Æs. What do you mean?

Tai. I am sure my head is full of nothing elseD. Mun. To refresh myself in the shades here Æs. But how came you to a knowledge of your


are an ass


misfortune? Has not your wife as much wit as Char. There are some ladies who have been you?

disputing so long and so loud about taking Tai. A great deal more, sir; and that is one place and precedency, that they have set their reason for my believing myself dishonoured- relations a'tilting at one another, to support

Es. Though your reason has some weight in their vanity: the standers-by are some of them it, yet it does not amount to a conviction. so frightened, and some of them so diverted at

Tai I have more to say for myself, if your the quarrel, that they have not time to think of worship will but hear me.

their misfortunes; so I e'en left them to settle s. I shall attend to you.

their prerogatives by themselves, and be friends Tai. My wife has such very high blood in at their leisure. her, that she has lately turned papist, and is al- Mer. What's to be done, Æsop? ways railing at me and the government. The Æs. Discharge these we have, and finish the priest and she are continually laying their heads business of the day. together, and I ain afraid he has persuaded her, that it will save her precious soul, if she cuckolds

Enter Drunken Man and Mrs. Riot. a heretic wilor

D. Man. I never went to pick up a whore s. Oh, don't think so hardly of them. in my life, but the first woman I laid hold of was

Tai. Lord, sir, you don't know what tricks are my dear virtuous wife, and here she isgoing forward above! Religion indeed is the out- Æs. Is that lady your wife? side stu), but wickelness is the lining.

D. Man. Yes, sir; and yours, if you please to Æs Why, you are in a passion, friend ; if you accept her. would but exert yourself ihus at a proper time, s. Though she has formerly given too much you might keep the tox from your poultry. into fashionable follies, she now repents, and

Tui. Lord, sir, my wife has as much passion will be more prudent for the future. again as I hare; and whenever she's up, I curb D. Man. Look'e, Mr. Æsop, all your preachmy temper, sit down, and say nothing.

ing and morality signifies nothing at all; but since Es. What remedy have you to propose for your wisdom seems bent upon our reformation, this misfortune?

I'll tell you the only way, old boy, to bring Tai. I would propose to dip my head in the it about. Let me have enough of your water river, to wash away my fancies; and if you'll let to settle my head; and throw madam into the me take a few bottles to my wife, if the water is river. of a cooling nature, I may perhaps be easy that Æs. 'Tis in vain to reason with such beings: way; but I shall do as your worship pleases. therefore, Mercury, summon the mortals from

Es. I am afraid this method won't answer, the grove, and we'll dismiss thein to earth, as friend : suppose therefore you drink to forget happy as Lethe can make themyour suspicions, for they are nothing more; and let your wife drink to forget your uneasiness-a

SONG. mutual coalidence will succeed, and consequent

BY MERCURY. ly mutual happiness.

Tai, I have such a spirit, I can never bear to Come mortals, come, come follow me, be dishonoured in my bed.

Come follow, follow, follow me, Łs. The water will cool your spirit, and if it

To mirth, and joy, and jollity; can but lower your wife's, the business is done-Hark! hark! the call, come, come and drink, Go for a moment to your companion, and you And leave your cares by Lethe's brink. shall drink presently; but do nothing rashly. Tui. I can't help it, rashness is my

fault, sir; but ase and more experience, I hope, will cure

Away then come, come, come away, e-your strvant, sir-Indeed he is a fine old Grecian!

[Erit Tailor.

and life shall hence be holiday ;

Nor jealous fears, nor strife, nor pain,
Æs. Poor fellow, I pity him.

Shall wex the jovial heart again.

To Lethe's brink then follow all, Mer. What can be the meaning, Æsop, that Then follow, follow, follow all. there are no more mortals coming over.

'Tis pleasure courts, obey the call ; ctive there is a great bustle on the other side the And mirth, and jollity, and joy, vx, and Charon has brought his boat over with Shall every future hour employ. Cou! passengers. Łs. Here he is to answer for himself. Enter Charon, laughing.

Away then come, come, come away,

And life shall hence be holiday; Char. Ob! oh! oh!

Nor jealous fears, nor strife, nor pain, Jler. What diverts you so, Charon!

Shall ver the jovial heurt again. Char. Why, there's the devil to do among the mituks vonder; they are altogether by the ears. (During the song, the characters enter £s. W bat's the inatter?

from the grore.


I per


Æs. Now, mortals, attend; I have perceived, are totally forgotten and neglected. Then from your examinations, that you have mis- follow me, and drink to the forgetfulness of taken the effects of your distempers for the vicecause; you would willingly be relieved from many things which interfere with your pas- 'Tis vice alone disturbs the human breast; sions and affections; while your vices, from Care dies with guilt-be virtuous, and be which all your cares and misfortunes arise, blest.

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cause he had a little more wickedness than the

rest of his neighbours. Enter ARABELLA, and Sophia in Men's clothes.

Sop. Then I will be the first to set a better Ara. Indeed, iny dear, you'll repent this fro- example.-If I did not think a man's character lic.

was of some consequence, I should not now run Sop. Indeed, my dear, then it will be the first such risks, and encounter such difficulties, to frolic I ever repented in all my life. Look ye, be better acquainted with it. Bell,'tis in vain to oppose me, for I am resolved. Ara. Ab, Sophy! if you have love enough to The only way to find out his character, is to sce be jealous, and jealousy enough to try these exhim thus, and converse freely with bim. If he is perigjents- -don't imagine, though you should the wretch he is reported to be, I shall away with make terrible discoveries, that you can iminehim at once; and if he is not, he will thauk mediately quit your inclinations, with your breeches; for the trial, and our union will be the stronger and return so very philosophically to your petti

Aru. I never knew a woman yet, who had coats again, ha, ha! prudence enough to turn off a pretty fellow, be- Sop. You may be as inerry with my weaknes.

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