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Mrs. Lov. Is that the reason of your formality, Mrs. Prim? Truth will out: I ever thought, indeed, there was more design than goodness in the pinch'd

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Mrs. Pr. Go, thou art corrupted with reading lewd plays, and filthy romances-good for nothing but to lead youth into the high-road of fornication.Ah! I wish thou art not already too familiar with the wicked ones.

Mrs. Lov. Too familiar with the wicked ones? Pray no more of those freedoms, madam-I am familiar with none so wicked as yourself: -How dare you thus talk to me! you, you, you, unworthy [Bursts into tears.

woman you.

Enter TRADELOVE.

Trade. What, in tears, Nancy? What have you done to her, Mrs. Prim, to make her weep?

Mrs. Lov. Done to me! I admire I keep my senses among you; but I will rid myself of your tyranny, if there be either law or justice to be had; I'll force you to give me up my liberty.

Mrs. Pr. Thou hast more need to, weep for thy sins, Anne-Yea, for thy manifold sins.

Mrs. Lov. Don't think that I'll be still the fool which you have made me.-No, I'll wear what I please go when and where I please and keep what company I think fit, and not what you shall direct-I will.

Trade. For my part, I do think all this very reasonable, Mrs. Lovely-'tis fit you should have your liberty, and for that very purpose I am come.

Enter Mr. PERIWINKLE and OBADIAH PRIM, with a letter in his hand.

Per. I have bought some black stockings of your husband, Mrs. Prim, but he tells me the glover's trade belongs to you; therefore I pray you look me out five or six dozen of mourning gloves, such as are given at funerals, and send them to my house.

Ob. Pr. My friend Periwinkle has got a good windfall to-day-seven hundred a year.

Mrs. Pr. I wish thee joy of it, neighbour.
Trade. What, is Sir Toby dead then ?
Per. He is! You'll take care, Mrs. Prim.
Mrs. Pr. Yea, I will, neighbour.

Ob. Pr. This letter recommendeth a speaker; 'tis from Aminadab Holdfast of Bristol; peradventure he will be here this night; therefore, Sarah, do thou take care for his reception [Gives her the letter. Mrs. Pr. I will obey thee.

[Exit.

Ob. Pr. What art thou in the dumps for, Anne? Trade. We must marry her, Mr. Prim.

Ob. Pr. Why truly, if we could find a husband worth having, I should be as glad to see her married as thou wouldst, neighbour.

Per. Well said, there are but few worth having. Trade. I can recommend you a man, now, that I think you can none of you have an objection to!

Enter Sir PHILIP MODELOVE.

Per. You recommend! Nay, whenever she marries, I'll recommend the husband

Sir Phil. What must it be, a whale or a rhinoceros, Mr. Periwinkle? ha, ha, ha! Mr. Tradelove, I have a bill upon you, [Gives him a paper] and have been seeking for you all over the town.

Trade. I'll accept it, Sir Philip, and pay it when due.

Per. He shall be none of the fops at your end of the town, with full perukes and empty skulls-nor yet any of your trading gentry, who puzzle the heralds to find arms for their coaches. No, he shall be a man famous for travels, solidity, and curiosity;

- one who has searched into the profundity of nature! When Heaven shall direct such a one, he shall have my consent, because it may turn to the benefit of mankind.

Mrs. Lov. The benefit of mankind! What, would you anatomize me ?

Sir Phil. Ay, ay, madam, he would dissect you. Trade. Or, pore over you through a microscope, to see how your blood circulates from the crown of your head to the sole of your foot-ha, hal but I have a husband for you, a man that knows how to improve your fortune; one that trades to the four corners of the globe.

Mrs. Lov. And would send me for a venture perhaps.

Trade. One that will dress you in all the pride of Europe, Asia, Africa, and America a Dutch merchant, my girl.

Sir Phil. A Dutchman! ha, ha; there's a husband for a fine lady. - Ya frow, will you meet myn slapen-ha, ha! he'll learn you to talk the language of the hogs, madam, ha, hal

Trade. He'll learn you that one merchant is of more service to a nation than fifty coxcombs. The Dutch know the trading interest to be of more benefit to the state, than the landed.

Sir Phil. But what is either interest to a lady? Trade. 'Tis the merchant makes the belle How would the ladies sparkle in the box without the merchant? The Indian diamond! The French brocade! The Italian fan! The Flanders lace! The fine Dutch holland! How would they vent their scandal over their tea-tables? And where would your beaux have Champagne to toast their mistresses, were it not for the merchant?

Ob. Pr. Verily, neighbour Tradlove, theu dost waste thy breath about nothing-All that thou hast said tendeth only to debauch youth, and fill their heads with the pride and luxury of this world-The merchant is a very great friend to satan, and sendeth as many to his dominions as the pope.

Per. Right, I say knowledge makes the man. Ob. Pr. Yea, but not thy kind of knowledgeit is the knowledge of truth.- Search thou for the light within, and not for baubles, friend.

Mrs. Lov. Ah, study your country's good, Mr. Periwinkle, and not her insects, Rid you of your home-bred monsters, before you fetch any from abroad-I dare swear you have maggots enough in your own brain to stock all the virtuosos in Europe with butterflies.

Sir Phil. By my soul, Miss Nancy's a wit.

Ob. Pr. That is more than she can say by thee, friend-Look ye, it is in vain to talk, when I meet a man worthy of her, she shall have my leave to marry him.

Mrs. Lov. Provided he be of the faithful Was there ever such a swarm of caterpillars to blast the hopes of a woman! [Aside.] Know this, that you contend in vain: I'll have no husband of your choosing, nor shall you lord it over me long-I'll try the power of an English senate Orphans have been redress'd, and wills set aside-And none did ever deserve their pity more-Oh, Fainwell! where are thy promises to free me from these vermin? Alas! the task was more difficult than he imagin'd I

A harder task than what the poets tell
Of yore, the fair Andromeda befel;
She but one monster fear'd, I've four to fear,
And see no Perseus, no deliv'rer near.

Enter Servant, and whispers to PRIM.

Serv. One Simon Pure enquireth for thee.
Per. The woman is mad.

Sir Phil. So you are all in my opinion.

[Exit.

[Exit.

[Exit.

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