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Hax. Mrs Wilding!

Mrs Wild. Mr Hazard!

Pen. Your servant, good folks! (curtseying) what my good cousin and Mr, Hazard at hide and seek in the gallery, in my guardians absence-you are a most generous gentleman indeed! you are for providing every way, I see, for distrest ladies.

Mrs Wild. For heav'ns sake, Mr Hazard, how got you here?

Haz. Upon my soul, madam, I scarce can tell you. Mrs. Wild. You have squeez'd my fingers most unmercifully.

Pen. So! so!

Haz. Upon my soul, madam, it was all a mistake. My errand at present was not with you, but with that lady.

Pen. With me! what business pray, to pinch my fingers? Haz. Here are my credentials-(shews a key.) I was only to act by deputation, from a certain friend of mine.

Pen. Which I suppose is a certain good guardian of mine. Mrs Wild. And who is most certainly my virtuous husband.

Haz. I am so astonish'd, I hardly know whether I am awake.

Pen. To be sure t -you unlock peoples doors, get into their houses, seize upon their wives, and all in your sleep. Haz. Ladies, tho' I may, perhaps, suffer in your opini ons by my silence-yet I could wish, for my friends sake, my own, and yours, that you would give me your pardon, and peaceably send me about my business; for indeed I am most sincerely asham'd and sorry.

Pen. Poor, modest gentleman! -had a house-breaker been caught in the fact, he would have made just the saine apology-but no pardon from me without a full and free confession.

Mrs. Wild. I can say nothing, Mr. Hazard, in your justification; but if you have a mind to make all the amends in your power, you will join with me in a plot I have just now thought of; for though Mr Wilding may not have love enough to be jealous of me, I know he has too much pride. to be easy, if he thought I was false to him; and what inust he feel, when he believes me innoocently so, and knows himself to be the cause of it.

Pen. I adore you, my dear Mrs Wilding, for the thought

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I long to be reveng'd on him for his base design apon me, and now you have him in your power- -If you dont torment him thoroughly, I'll never forgive you as long as I live.

Mrs Wild. Let me alone for that-Mr Hazard has only to behave, as if he had succeeded in his design upon you, but let us confer notes together below stairs.

Haz. Ladies, you shall command my life, and my best services.

Pen. Best, and worst, they are always ready--I'll say that for Mr Hazard..

Haz. Indeed, lady, you know but half of me.

Pen. The worst half

Haz. I fear so; but let me assure you both, that with all my frailties, I am much happier in forwarding this scheme of virtue, than I should have been in the success of my folly. Mrs Wild. I am confident of it don't mind her, Mr

Hazard, but follow me.

Pen. The devil was sick, the devil a monk would be ;
The devil was well, the devil a monk was he.

ACT IV

SCENE, WILDING'S House.

Enter Mrs WILDING and Barnacle.

BARNACLE.

[Exeunt.

UT has not master Hazard, in no wise, open'd his bu

I had his promise for it?

Mrs Wild What business, good sir; I pray you speakThis interruption is unfortunate.

[Aside. Bar. Thus then; I have, lady, a longing, as it were, to be more nearly connected with your family.You must know what I wou'd say.

Mrs Wild. Indeed I am no scholar, and this is all Greek to me.

Bar, My nephew understands Greek, lady; ay, and Las tin too, and geography, and poetry, and philosophy; and is withal as valiant

Mrs Wild. 'Tis the peculiar blessing of the times; our young men are so learned and brave, and our old ones so

wise

wise and virtuous, that we are the astonishment of the whole world! 'tis the golden age, sir!-But your business.

Bar. Vouchsafe me, lady, one plain answer to an honest question-has your fair kinswoman, the beauteous Penelope, yet transferr'd her affections to any one mortal.

Mrs. Wild. If she had not, wou'd Mr Barnacle become a purchaser ?

Bar. Me, madam! no, no, no! alas, alas, my dancing days are over-But for my nephew-Oh, that nephew of mine! You have seen him, and heard of him surely-have you not, madam?

Mrs Wild. My mind of late, Mr Barnacle, has had little attention, but to its own troubles.

Bar. Alack, alack! I know it well- You are much discours'd of and pitied by the world; and I'll be bold to say, if there be any man that troubles you, or any that you would have talk'd withal, let him be who he will-I'll rid you of that care-He that shall offer to disturb you but in a thought, do ye mark me, madam? I'll take an order with him-

Mrs Wild. What will you do, sir?

Bar. Don't mistake me, I'll do nothing-but I'll send my nephew He shall work him, and jerk him, I warrant you-You don't know how my nephew is improv'd since he came from the university; he is a perfect knight errant, the very St. George for England!-Why, madam, he has had a pluck at the very flower of chivalry, ay, and cropt it toothe very Donzel del Phebo of the time, and all the roaring blades lower their top-sails to him-I'll say no moreName but the man, whom you but frown upon, and I'll send my nephew to him.

Mrs. Wild. I thank you, sir, I have no enemy to exercise his prowess upon; my discontents are known to flow from a nearer person-I am asham'd to say

Bar. Your husband-Say but the word, and I'll send my nephew to him; and he were ten husbands he should mollify him-Don't spare him-Had you but seen him baffle a squire this morning!

Mrs. Wild. These praises of your nephew, Mr Barnacle, are thrown away upon me; 'tis my cousin must be warm'ά with 'em-And here she comes; so I shall leave your eloquence to present the flower of chivalry to her, which I think would be an ornament to the fairest bosom in the kingdom.

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Bar. Madam, you do my nephew honor, and when you are in the humour to have any man beaten, either in your own family, or in the kingdom-I'll send my nephew to him.

Enter PENELOPE.

Mrs Wild. Dear Pen, dispatch this old fool as fast as you can, and in the mean time, I'll dispatch my page, to fetch my wand'ring turtle home.

Bar. Fair lady, I am your servant.

Pen. Good sir, I am yours.

Bur. I fear my visit may offend.

[Exit. [Bows. [Curtseys.

Pen. I am but ill at ease, indeed, sir, and most unfit for

compan.

Bar. What, so young, and melancholy-O, 'us a pity. Pen. It is, indeed, and yet I am melancholy.

Bar. And for what, fair lady?

Pen. For a gentleman-What wou'd you have a fair lady melancholy for?

Bar. I'll send my nephew to him.

Pen. To bring him to me?

Bar. Ay, bring him, and swing him, if you desire itYou can make him do any thing, madam-Say you but the word, and hell take the great Turk by the whiskers

-O

my nephew is a pretty fellow! don't you know him, madam?

Pen. Not I, sir.

Bar. Not know my nephew !-I'll send him to you.

Pen. What to do, sir.

Bar. He shall do any thing-the town's afraid of him. Pen. O, pray keep him from me then.

Bar. He'll hurt no woman-But for the men

Pen. Can he make 'em better, sir? if he cou'd, we shou'd be much oblig'd to him.

Bar. And he shall, lady.

Pen. Then let it be quickly, for I'll say 'till they are mended, before I think of a husband.

Bar. What think you, sweet lady, of the hero, himself? Pen. My thoughts must not run after such costly fruit. Bar. My nephew is dying for you.

Pen. Poor young man! but if we were both dying,, my guardians would see us at our last gaspings before he'd con

sent.

Bar.

Bar. Would he ! then my nephew shall talk to him-Let him alone to get the consent.

Enter Servant.

Serv. Your nephew, sir, is below, and begs to be admitted to the idol of his affections.

Pen. Shew the gentleman up.

[Fxit Servant. Bar. Idol of bis affections! there's an expression for you— my nephew is a fine scholar and a great hero-here he is1 shall leave you together- your servant, madam.

Enter NEPHEW and DWINDLF.

To her, nephew, now is your time, I have clear'd the way -she is your own-you'll have a fine reception-I am glad to see you are half drunk-be bold and conquer. [Exit Bar. Nepb. Ne'er fear me, uncle, when I am rocky, I defy any woman in Christendom - I have not been in bed tonight-when I am bosky I never flinch.

Dwin. To her, to her, sir.

Nepb. Shall I attack her with a little learning, Dwindle; if I cou'd but put her into confusion, the towus my own. Dwin. Give her a broad-side then.

Nepb. I had rather beat the watch, than talk to her. my courage fails me, Dwindle.

Pen. I must send this fool a packing-do you trust yourself abroad, sir, without your uncle?-you are very young, and there are a great many coaches and carts, in this metropolis!

Nepb. Coaches and carts, Dwindle! I am dumb, et vox faucibus basit.

Dwin. Give her one fire first.

Nepb. I had rather go back again, Dwindle.

Dwin. What, turn your back upon the enemy!
Neph. I can't face her, per dios immortales!

[Going.

Pen. If you have any matter to communicate, let me beg

to know it immediately, for I am in haste.

Nepb. I had much matter to communicate, but your coaches and carts have drove it quite out of my head.

Pen. Poor gentleman! when you have recovered your senses, and the use of your tongue, return to me again, and I shall be at your service; in the mean time, I would recommend a gentle nap to you, and I'll pay a visit to my monkey; and so, sir, your servant

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[Exit.

Nepb.

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