[]THE MALE-COQUETTE.

ACT I.

INDEED, my Dear, you'll repent this Frolic.

Indeed, my Dear, then it will be the firſt Frolic I ever repented in all my Life. Lookee, Bell, 'tis in vain to oppoſe me, for I am reſolv'd—the only Way to find out his Character, is to ſee him thus, and con⯑verſe freely with him. If he is the Wretch he is reported to be, I ſhall away with him at once; and if he is not, he will thank me for the Trial, and our Union will be the ſtronger.

I never knew a Woman yet, who had Prudence enough to turn off a pretty Fellow, becauſe he had a little more Wickedneſs than the reſt of his Neigh⯑bours.

Then I will be the firſt to ſet a better Example. —If I did not think a Man's Character was of ſome Conſequence, I ſhould not now run ſuch Riſques, and encounter ſuch Difficulties, to be better acquainted with it.

Ha, Sophy! if you have Love enough to be jea⯑lous, and Jealouſy enough to try theſe Experiments —don't imagine, tho' you ſhould make terrible Diſcoveries, that you can immediately quit your In⯑clinations, with your Breeches; and return ſo very philoſophically to your Petticoats again, ha, ha!—

You may be as merry with my Weakneſſes, as you pleaſe, Madam; but I know my own Heart, and can rely upon it.

We are great Bullies by Nature; but Courage and Swaggering, are two Things, Couſin.

Since you are as little to be convinc'd, as I am to be perſuaded—your Servant—

Nay, Sophy—This is unfriendly—if you are re⯑ſolv'd upon your Scheme, open to me without Re⯑ſerve, and I'll aſſiſt you.

Imprimis, then; I confeſs to you, that I have a kind of whimſical Attachment to Daffodil; not but I can ſee his Vanities, and laugh at 'em.

And like him the better for 'em—

Pſhaw! don't plague me, Bell—my other Lover, the jealous Mr. Tukely—

Who loves you too well to be ſucceſsful—

And whom I really eſteem—

As a good Sort of Man, ha, ha, ha.

Nay, ſhou'd have lov'd him—

Had not a prettier Fellow ſtept in between, who perhaps does not care a Farthing for you—

That's the Queſtion, my Dear—Tukely, I ſay, either ſtung by Jealouſy, or unwilling to loſe me, without a Struggle, has intreated me to know more of his Rival, before I engage too far with him— Many ſtrange Things he has told me, which have piqu'd me I muſt confeſs, and I am now prepar'd for the Proof.

You'll certainly be diſcover'd, and put to Shame.

I have ſecur'd my Succeſs already.

What do you mean?

I have ſeen him, convers'd with him, and am to meet him again to-day, by his own Appointment.

Madneſs!—it can't be.

But it has been, I tell you—

How? how?—Quickly, quickly, dear Sophy?

When you went to Lady Fanny's laſt Night, and left me, as you thought, little diſpos'd for a Frolic, I dreſs'd me as you ſee, call'd a Chair, and went to the King's-Arms—ask'd for my Gentleman, and was ſhewn into a Room—he immediately left his Company, and came to me.

I tremble for you.

I introduc'd myſelf as an Italian Nobleman, juſt arriv'd: Il Marcheſe di Macaroni—

Ridiculous!—ha, ha.

An Intimate of Sir Charles Vainlove's, who is now at Rome—I told him my Letters were with my Baggage, at the Cuſtom-houſe—He receiv'd me with all the Openneſs imaginable, and wou'd have introduc'd me to his Friends; I begg'd to be ex⯑cus'd, but promis'd to attend him to-day, and am now ready, as you ſee, to keep my Word.

Aſtoniſhing!—and what did you talk about?

Of various Things—Women among the reſt; and tho' I have not abſolutely any open Acts of Rebel⯑lion againſt him, yet, I fear he is a Traytor at Heart —and then ſuch Vanity!—but I had not Time [5] to make great Diſcoveries—It was merely the Pro⯑logue— The Play is to come.

Act your Part well, or we ſhall hiſs you—

Never fear me; you don't know what a mad, raking, wild young Devil I can be, if I ſet my Mind to it, Bell.

You fright me!—you ſhall poſitively be no Bed⯑fellow of mine any longer.

I am reſolv'd to ruin my Woman, and kill my Man, before I get into Petticoats again.

Take Care of a Quarrel tho'—a Rival may be too rough with you.

No, no, Fighting is not the Vice of theſe Times; and as for a little Swaggering—damn it, I can do it as well as the beſt of 'em.

Huſh, huſh! Mr. Tukely is here—

Now for a Trial of Skill; if I deceive him, you'll allow that half my Buſineſs is done.

Your Servant Miſs Bell—I need not ask if Miſs Sophy be at home, for I believe I have ſeen her ſince you did.

Have you, Sir? You ſeem diſconcerted, Mr. Tukely: Has any Thing happen'd?

A Trifle, Madam—but I was born to be trifled with, and to be made uneaſy at Trifles.

Pray, what trifling Affair has diſturb'd you thus?

What's the Matter now?

I met Miſs Sophy this Moment in a Hackney Chair, at the End of the Street: I knew her by the Pink Negligeè; but upon my croſſing the Way to ſpeak to her, ſhe turn'd her Head away, laugh'd violently, and drew the Curtain in my Face.

So, ſo; well ſaid, Jealouſy.

She was in Haſte, I ſuppoſe, to get to her Engage⯑ment.

Yes, yes, Madam; I imagine ſhe had ſome Engage⯑ment upon her Hands—But ſure, Madam, her great Deſire to ſee her more agreeable Friends, need not be attended with Contempt and Diſregard to the reſt of her Acquaintance.

Indeed, Mr. Tukely, I have ſo many Caprices, and Follies of my own, that I can't poſſibly anſwer for my Couſin's too.

Well ſaid, Bell.

Anſwer, Miſs!—No, Heav'n forbid you ſhould— for my Part, I have given up all my Hopes as a Lover, and only, now, feel for her as a Friend— and indeed as a Friend, a ſincere Friend—I can't but ſay, that going out in a Hackney Chair, without a Servant, and endeavouring to conceal herſelf, is ſome⯑what incompatible with Miſs Sophy's Rank and Re⯑putation —This I ſpeak as a Friend—not as a Lover, Miſs Bell—pray mind that.

I ſee it very plainly, Mr. Tukely—and it gives me great Pleaſure, that you can be ſo indifferent in your Love, and yet ſo jealous in your Friendſhip.

You do me Honour, Miſs, by your good Opi⯑nion.

Who's that, pray?

A Gentleman who is waiting for Sophy.

I think ſhe has Gentlemen waiting for her every where.

I am afraid, Sir,

you'll excuſe me, that notwithſtanding your Declara⯑tion, and this Lady's Compliments, there is a little of the Devil, call'd Jealouſy, at the Bottom of all this Uneaſineſs.

Sir!—

I ſay, Sir, wear your Cloak as long as you pleaſe, the Hoof will peep out, take my Word for it.

Upon my Word, Sir, you are pleas'd to honour me with a Familiarity which I neither expected, or indeed deſired, upon ſo ſlight an Acquaintance.

I dare ſwear you did not.

I don't underſtand this!

This is beyond Expectation—

I preſume, Sir, you never was out of England—

I preſume, Sir, that you are miſtaken— I never was ſo fooliſhly fond of my own Country, to think that nothing good was to be had out of it; nor ſo ſhamefully ungrateful to it, to prefer the Vices and Fopperies of every other Nation, to the peculiar Advantages of my own.

Ha, ha; well ſaid, old England, i'faith—Now, Madam, if this Gentleman would put this Speech into a Farce, and properly lard it with Roaſt Beef, and Liberty, I wou'd engage the Galleries wou'd roar and halloo at it for half an Hour together— Ha, ha, ha.

Now the Storm's coming.

If you are not engag'd, Sir, we'll adjourn to the next Tavern, and write this Farce between us.

I fancy, Sir, by the Information of your Face, that you are more inclin'd to Tragedy, than Co⯑medy—

I ſhall be inclin'd to treat you very ill, if you don't walk out with me.

I have been treated ſo very ill already, in the little Converſation I have had with you, that you muſt excuſe my walking out for more of it; but if you'll perſuade the Lady to leave the Room, I'll put you to Death—Damme—

For Heaven's ſake! what's the Matter, Gentle⯑men?

What can I do with this Fellow?

Madam, don't be alarm'd—this Affair will be very ſhort—I am always expeditious; and will cut his Throat, without ſhocking you in the leaſt: —Come, Sir,

if you won't defend your⯑ſelf, I muſt kick you about the Room.

Reſpect for this Lady, and this Houſe, has curb'd my Reſentment hitherto: But as your Inſolence wou'd take Advantage of my Forbearance, I muſt correct it at all Events—

Ha, ha, ha!

What is all this?

What, would you ſet your Courage to a poor, weak Woman? You are a bold Briton, indeed!— Ha, ha, ha.

What, Sophia?—

Sophia! No, no; ſhe is in a Hackney-Chair, you know, without a Servant, in her Pink Negligeè— Ha, ha, ha.—

I am aſtoniſh'd! and can ſcarce believe my own Eyes—What means this Metamorphoſis?

'Tis in Obedience to your Commands—Thus equipp'd, I have got Acceſs to Daffodil, and ſhall know whether your Picture of him is drawn by your Regard for me, or Reſentment to him—I will ſound him, from his loweſt Note to the Top of his Compaſs.

Your Spirit tranſports me—This will be a buſy, and, I hope, a happy Day for me. I have ap⯑pointed no leſs than five Ladies to meet me at the Widow Damply's; to each of whom, as well as yourſelf, the accompliſh'd Mr. Daffodil has pre⯑ſented his Heart; the Value of which I am reſolved to convince 'em of this Night, for the ſake of the whole Sex.

Pooh, pooh! that's the old Story—You are ſo prejudic'd.—

I am afraid 'tis you who are prejudic'd, Madam; for if you will believe your own Eyes and Ears—

That I will, I aſſure you—I ſhall viſit him imme⯑diately —He thinks me in the Country, and to con⯑firm it, I'll write to him as from thence—But ask me no more Queſtions about what I have done, and what is to be done; for I have not a Moment to loſe; and ſo, my good Friend Tukely, yours— My dear Bell, I kiſs your Hand—

You are a fine Woman, by Heav'ns! Here, Jo⯑ſeppi, Brunello, Franceſi,—where are my Fellows there? Call me a Chair—Viva l'Amòr, & Libertá—

Ha, ha; there's a Spirit for you!—Well now, what do you ſtare at?—You cou'd not well deſire more—O, fie, fie,—don't ſigh, and bite your Fin⯑gers; rouze yourſelf, Man; ſet all your Wits to work; bring this faithleſs Corydon to Shame, and I'll be hang'd if the Prize is not yours—If ſhe returns in Time, I'll bring her to the Widow Damply's—

Dear Miſs Arabella—

Well, well; make me a fine Speech another Time. About your Buſineſs now—

I fly—

What a Couple of blind Fools has Love made of this poor Fellow, and my dear Couſin Sophy? Little do they imagine, with all their wiſe Diſcoveries, that Daffodil is as faithful a Lover, as he is an accom⯑pliſh'd Gentleman—I pity theſe poor deceiv'd Wo⯑men, with all my Heart—But how will they ſtare, when they find that he has artfully pretended a Re⯑gard for them, the better to conceal his real Paſ⯑ſion [12] for me—They will certainly tear my Eyes out; and what will Couſin Sophy ſay to me, when we are oblig'd to declare our Paſſion? No Matter what— 'Tis the Fortune of War—And I ſhall only ſerve her, as ſhe and every other Friend wou'd ſerve me in the ſame Situation—

But are you ſure, Ruffle, that you deliver'd the Letter laſt Night, in the Manner I order'd you?

Exactly, Sir.

And you are ſure that Mr. Dotterel ſaw you ſlip the Note into his Wife's Hand?

I have alarm'd him, and you may be aſſur'd, that he is as uneaſy as you wou'd wiſh to have him—But I ſhou'd be glad, with your Honour's Leave, to have a little ſerious Converſation with you; for my Mind forebodes much Peril to the Bones of your humble Servant, and very little Satisfaction to your Honour.

Thou art a moſt incomprehenſible Blockhead—

No great Scholar, or Wit, indeed—but I can feel an Oak Sappling, as well as another—Ay, and I ſhou'd have felt one laſt Night, if I had not had the Heels of all Mr. Dotterel's Family—I had the whole Pack after me—

And did not they catch you?

No, thank Heaven—

You was not kick'd then?

No, Sir.

Nor can'd?

No, Sir.

Nor drag'd thro' a Horſe-pond?

O, Lord! No, Sir.

That's unlucky—

Sir!

You muſt go again, Ruffle, to Night, perhaps you may be in better Luck.

If I go again, Sir, may I be can'd, kick'd, and Horſe-ponded for my Pains—I believe I have been [...]ucky enough to bring an old Houſe over your Head.

What d'ye mean?

Mr. Dotterel only hobbled after me, to pay me [...] the Poſtage of your Letter; but being a little out [...] Wind, he ſoon ſtopt, to curſe and ſwear at me— [14] I cou'd hear him mutter ſomething of Scoundrel, and Pimp, and my Maſter, and Villain—and Blun⯑derbuſs, and Saw-pit; and then he ſhook his Stick, and look'd like the Devil!

Blunderbuſs, and Saw-pit! This Buſineſs grows a little ſerious, and ſo we will drop it—The Husband is ſo old and peeviſh, and ſhe ſo young and preſſing, that I'll give it up, Ruffle—The Town talks of us, and I am ſatisfied.

Pray Sir, with Submiſſion, for what End do you write to ſo many Ladies, and make ſuch a Rout about 'em; there are now upon the Liſt half a Dozen Maids, a Leaſh of Wives, and the Widow Damply. I know your Honour don't intend Miſchief; but what Pleaſure can you have in deceiving them, and the World? for you are thought a terrible young Gentleman.

Why that Pleaſure, Booby.

I don't underſtand it—What do you intend to do with 'em all? Ruin 'em?

Not I, faith.

But you'll ruin their Reputations.

That's their Buſineſs—Not mine.

Will you marry any one of 'em?

O, no; that wou'd be finiſhing the Game at once—If I preferr'd one, the Reſt wou'd take it [15] ill; ſo becauſe I won't be particular, I give 'em all Hopes, without going a Step further.

Widows can't live upon ſuch ſlender Diet.

A true Sportſman has no Pleaſure but in the Chace; the Game is always given to thoſe who have leſs Taſte, and better Stomachs.

I love to pick a Bit, I muſt confeſs—Really, Sir, I ſhou'd not care what became of half the Women you are pleas'd to be merry with—But Miſs So⯑phy, ſure, is a heavenly Creature, and deſerves better Treatment; and to make Love to her Couſin too, in the ſame Houſe—that is very cruel.

But it amuſes one—beſides they are both fine Creatures. And how do I know, if I lov'd only one, but the other might poiſon herſelf?

And when they know that you have lov'd 'em both, they may poiſon one another—This Affair will make a great Noiſe.

Or I have taken a great Deal of Pains for no⯑thing; but no more prating, Sirrah; while I read my Letters, go and ask Harry what Cards and Meſ⯑ſages he has taken in this Morning.

There is no mending him.

This is from the Widow Damply —I know her Scrawl at a Mile's Diſtance—ſhe pretends that the Fright of her Husband's Death hurt [16] her Nerves ſo, that her Hand has ſhook ever ſince— ha, ha, ha—It has hurt her Spelling too, for here is Joy with a G; ha! ha! poor Creature.

Hum—hum—hum—Well ſaid, Widow; ſhe ſpeaks plain, faith, and grows urgent—I muſt get quit of her—ſhe deſires a tête à tête; which, with Wi⯑dows who have ſuffered much for the Loſs of their Husbands, is, as Capt. Bobadil ſays, a Service of Danger. So, I am off—

What the Devil have we here? A Bill in Chancery: Oh, no! my Taylor's Bill—Sum Total 374l. 11s. 5¾d. —Indeed, Monſieur Chicaneau, this is a damn'd Bill, and you will be damn'd for making it—there⯑fore, for the Good of your Soul, Monſ. Chicaneau, you muſt make another.

The French know their Conſequence, and uſe us accordingly.

This is from Newmarket.—

—Whip's a Genius, and a good Servant. I have not as yet loſt above a Thouſand Pounds by my Horſes—But ſuch Luck can't always laſt.

There's the Morning's Cargo, Sir.

Heigh Day! I can't read 'em in a Month; prithee, Ruffle, ſet down my Invitations from the Cards, ac⯑cording to their Date, and let me ſee 'em Tomorrow Morning—So much Reading wou'd diſtract me.

And yet theſe are the only Books that Gentlemen read Now-a-Days.

And pleaſe your Honour, I forgot to tell you that there was a Gentleman here laſt Night—I've forgot his Name.

Old Mr. Dotterel, perhaps.

Old; no, no, he looks younger than his Honour —I believe he's mad, he can't ſtand ſtill a Moment; he firſt caper'd out of the Chair, and when I told him your Honour was not at Home, he caper'd into it again—ſaid he would call again, jabber'd ſome⯑thing, and away he went ſinging.

'Tis the Marquis of Macaroni, I ſaw him at the King's Arms Yeſterday: Admit him when he comes, Harry.

I ſhall, your Honour—I can neither write or remember theſe outlandiſh Names.

Where is my Liſt of Women, Ruffle, and the Places of their Abode, that we may ſtrike off ſome, and add the new Acquiſitions?

What, alter again! I wrote it out fair but this Morning—There are quicker Succeſſions in your Honour's Liſt, than the Court-Calendar.

Strike off Mrs. Dotterel, and the Widow Damply.

They are undone.

A Lady, Mr. Ruffle, in a Chair, muſt ſpeak with you.

Did ſhe ask for me?—See Ruffle, who it is.

No, your Honour; but ſhe look'd quite fluſtrated.

Well, go below, and be careful not to let any old Gentleman in this Morning—and d'ye hear, if any of the Neighbours ſhou'd inquire who the Lady is, you may ſay it is a Relation; and be ſure ſmile, do you hear? when you tell 'em ſo.

I ſhall, your Honour—He, he, he, I am never melancholy.

That Fellow's a Character.

Sir, it is Mrs. Dotterel; ſhe has had a terrible Quarrel with her Husband about your Letter, and has ſomething to ſay of Conſequence to you both— ſhe muſt ſee you, ſhe ſays.

I won't ſee her—Why wou'd you ſay that I was at Home—You know I hate to be alone with 'em, and ſhe's ſo violent too—Well, well, ſhew her up—This is ſo unlucky—

He hates to ſee Duns he never intends to pay.

What ſhall I do with her? This is worſe than meet⯑ing her Husband with a Blunderbuſs in a Saw-pit.

Dear Mrs. Dotterel, this is ſo obliging—Ruffle, don't let a Soul come near me.

—And harkee, don't leave us long together, and let every Body up that comes.

What a Deal of Trouble here is about nothing.

In the Name of Virtue, Mr. Daffodil, I hope you have not given any private Orders, that may in the leaſt derogate from that abſolute Confidence which I place in your Honour.

You may be perfectly eaſy under this Roof, Ma⯑dam. I hope, I am polite enough not to let my Paſ⯑ſions, [20] of any Kind, run too great Lengths in my own Houſe.

Nothing but abſolute Neceſſity cou'd have made me take this imprudent Step—I am ready to faint with my Apprehenſions—Heigh ho!—

Heav'n forbid!—I'll call for ſome Aſſiſtance.

Let your Bell alone

You'r always calling for Aſſiſiſtance, I think—you never give one Time to come to ones ſelf—Mr. Dotterel has ſeen your Letter, and vows Vengeance and Deſtruction— Why wou'd you be ſo violent and imprudent?

The Devil was in me, Madam; but I repent it from my Soul; it has cur'd me of being violent.

Come, come, don't take it too deeply neither; I thought it proper, at all Hazards, to let you know what had happen'd, and to intreat you, by that Af⯑fection you have ſworn to me, to be careful of my Reputation.

That I will indeed, Madam; we can't be too careful.

Well, Mr. Daffodil, I am an unhappy Woman— married to one I cannot love; and loving one I ought to ſhun—It is a terrible Situation, Mr. Daffodil—

It is indeed, Madam,—I am in a terrible one too —Wou'd I was well out of it.

Do you know, Mr. Daffodil, that if I had not been [21] very religious, my Paſſions would have undone me— But you muſt give me Time, for nothing but that, and keeping the beſt Company, will ever conquer my Prejudices—

I ſhould be very ungenerous not to allow you Time, Madam—three Weeks or a Month, I hope, will do the Buſineſs—Tho', by my Honour, I got the better of Mine in half the Time—What is Ruffle doing?

He's very cold, methinks; but I'll try him fur⯑ther —Lookee, Mr. Daffodil, you muſt curb your Paſ⯑ſions, and keep your Diſtance—Fire is catching, and one does not know the Conſequences when once it be⯑gins to ſpread.

As you ſay, Madam, Fire is a catching; 'tis dan⯑gerous to play with it; and as I am of the Tinder-Kind, —as one may ſay,—we had better,—as you ſay—Madam,—change the Subject—Pray did you ever hear of the Pug-dog that you advertis'd? It was a very pretty Creature—what was his Name, Madam?

Daffodil, Sir!

Madam!

Could I love and eſteem any Thing, and not call it Daffodil?—What a Wretch!

You do me Honour, Madam—I don't like her Looks, I muſt change the Diſcourſe

Upon my Soul, Mrs. Dotterel, this Struggle is too much for Man: My Paſſions are now tearing me to Pie⯑ces, and if you will ſtay, by Heav'n I will not an⯑ſwer for the Conſequences.

Conſequences! What Conſequences! Thou wretched, baſe, falſe, worthleſs Animal!

You do me Honour.

Canſt thou think that I am ſo blinded by my Paſ⯑ſion, not to ſee thy treacherous, mean, unmanly Evaſions?—I have long ſuſpected your Infamy, and having this Proof of it, I cou'd ſtab your treacherous Heart, and my own weak one—Don't offer to ſtir, or ring your Bell, for, by Heav'ns, I'll—

I ſtir! I am never ſo happy, as when I am in your Company.

Thou lieſt: Thou art never ſo happy as when thou art deceiving, and betraying our fooliſh Sex—and all for what? Why, for the poor Reputation of hav⯑ing that, which thou haſt neither Power nor Spirit to enjoy.

Ha! I hear Somebody coming—Now for a Rapure

Talk not of Power or Spirit—Heav'n, that has made you fair, has made me ſtrong—O! for⯑give the Madneſs which your Beauty has occaſion'd.

The Marquis of Macaroons—

Ha!

I am betray'd!—

Mrs. Dotterel, by all that's virtuous—

Signor Daffodillo—reſto Confuſo, tat I am com ſi mal-a propoſito.

Dear Marquis, no Excuſe I beg—nothing at all— a Relation of mine—my Siſter only—Miſs Daffodil, this is, il Mercheſe de Macaroni, an Intimate of Sir Charles Vainlove's—This was lucky

—Well, then, my dear Siſter, I will wait upon you To-morrow, and ſettle the whole Affair.

I am the moſt miſe⯑rable of Mortals, and have loſt the moſt precious Moments of my Life.

You are a Villain—I deſpiſe you, and deteſt you—and will never ſee you more.

Ha, ha, ha!—My Siſter has a noble Spirit, my Lord.

Mi diſpiace infinamente—it tisplis me, tat I haf interrumpato, gli Affari of you Famili.

It is the old Family-buſineſs, my Lord; and ſo old, that, by my Honour, I am quite tir'd of it.

I hate him already.

—Signor Daffodillo, ſhe is una beliſſima Sorella in Verità, a very prit' Siſs' intit.

I muſt confeſs to you, my Lord, that my Siſter is a young diſtreſs'd Damſel, married to an old Gen⯑tleman of the Neighbourhood, Ha, ha, ha.

O Cara Inghilterra! vat a fortunata Contreé is tis! [24] te olt Men marri de yong fine Girl, and te yong fine Girl viſite te yong Signors—O, precioſa Libertà!—

Indeed, my Lord, Men of Faſhion here have ſome ſmall Privileges; we gather our Roſes with⯑out fear of Thorns—Husbands and Brothers don't deal in Poiſon and Stilletos, as they do with you.

Il noſtro amico, Signor Carlo, has tol me a touſant Volti, dat you vas de Orlando Innamorato himſelf.

But not Furioſo, I can aſſure you, my Lord, Ha, ha, ha! I am for Variety, and Badinage, without Af⯑fection —Reputation is the great Ornament, and Eaſe the great Happineſs of Life—To ruin Wo⯑men wou'd be troubleſome; to trifle and make Love to 'em amuſes one—I uſe my Women as daintily as my Tokay; I merely ſip of both, but more than half a Glaſs palls me.

Il mio proprio Guſto—Tukely is right; he's a Vil⯑lain.

—Signor Daffodillo; Vil you do me de Favor to give me Stranger, una Introduzione to ſome of your Signorine, let voſtro amico taſte a littel, un Poco of your dulce Tokay.

O, Certamente!—I have half a hundred Signo⯑rines at your Service.

Multo obligato, Signor Daffodillo.

Here is a Letter for your Honour.

What is the Matter with the Fellow?

Matter, your Honour!—the Lady that went out juſt now, gave me ſuch a Souſe on the Ear, as I made my Bow to her, that I cou'd ſcarce tell, for a Minute, whether I had a Head or no.

Ha! ha!—Poor Fellow!—there's Smart Money for you.

—Will your Lordſhip give me Leave?—

Senza Ceremonie—now for it.

—My Lord Marquis, here is a Letter has ſtarted Game for you already—the moſt lucky Thought imaginable.

Coſa é queſta—Coſa, é—vat is?

There are two fine Girls you muſt know, Cou⯑ſins, who live together; this is a Letter from one of 'em, Sophia is her Name—I have addreſs'd 'em both, but as Matters become a little ſerious on their [26] Side, I muſt raiſe a Jealouſy between the Friends; diſcover to one the Treachery of the other; and ſo in the Buſtle ſteal off as quietly as I can.

O! Spiritoſo Amico—I can ſcarce contain myſelf.

Before the Mine is ſprung, I will introduce you into the Town.

You are great Generaliſſimo in verità mà. I feel in miò Core vat de poor infelice Sophia vil feel for de Loſs of Signor Daffadillo.

Yes, poor Creature; I believe ſhe'll have a Pang or two—tender indeed! and I believe will be un⯑happy for ſome Time.

What a Monſter!

You muſt dine with our Club to-day, where I will introduce you to more of Sir Charles's Friends, all Men of Figure and Faſhion.

I muſt primo haf my Lettere, dat your Amici may be aſſicurati dat I am no Impoſtore.

In the Name of Politeneſs, my Lord Marquis, don't mention your Letters again; none but a Juſtice of Peace, or a Conſtable, would ever ask for a Certi⯑ficate of a Man's Birth, Parentage, and Education, Ha, ha, ha!

Viva, viva il Signor Daffodillo! You ſhall be il mio Conduttorè in tutte le Partite of Love and Pleaſure.

With all my Heart—You muſt give me Leave now, my Lord, to put on my Cloaths—In the mean Time, if your Lordſhip will ſtep into my Study there, if you chuſe Muſic, there is a Guittar, and ſome Venetian Ballads; or, if you like reading, there's Infidelity, and baudy Novels for you—Call Ruffle there.

I am ſhock'd at him—He is really more abandon'd than Tukely's Jealouſy deſcrib'd him—I have got my Proofs, and will not venture any further; I am vex'd that I ſhou'd be angry at him, when I ſhou'd only deſpiſe him—But I am ſo angry, that I cou'd almoſt wiſh myſelf a Man, that my Breeches might demand Satisfaction for the In⯑jury he has done my Petticoats.—

ACT II.