style="font-size:15px;"> Sir H. Ay, ay, but her name, Vizard!
Vizard. Her name! yes – she has the softest, whitest hand that e'er was made of flesh and blood; her lips so balmy sweet —
Sir H. Well, well, but where shall I find her, man?
Vizard. Find her! – but then her foot, Sir Harry! she dances to a miracle.
Sir H. Pr'ythee, don't distract me.
Vizard. Well then, you must know, that this lady is the greatest beauty in town; her name's Angelica: she that passes for her mother is a private bawd, and called the Lady Darling: she goes for a baronet's lady, (no disparagement to your honour, Sir Harry) I assure you.
Sir H. Pshaw, hang my honour! but what street, what house?
Vizard. Not so fast, Sir Harry; you must have my passport for your admittance, and you'll find my recommendation in a line or two will procure you very civil entertainment; I suppose twenty or thirty pieces handsomely placed, will gain the point.
Sir H. Thou dearest friend to a man in necessity! Here, sirrah, order my carriage about to St. James's; I'll walk across the park. [To his Servant.
Clinch. Here, sirrah, order my coach about to St. James's, I'll walk across the park too – Mr. Vizard, your most devoted – Sir, [To Wildair.] I admire the mode of your shoulder-knot; methinks it hangs very emphatically, and carries an air of travel in it: your sword-knot too is most ornamentally modish, and bears a foreign mien. Gentlemen, my brother is just arrived in town; so that, being upon the wing to kiss his hands, I hope you'll pardon this abrupt departure of, gentlemen, your most devoted, and most faithful humble servant. [Exit.
Sir H. Pr'ythee, dost know him?
Vizard. Know him! why, it is Clincher, who was apprentice to my uncle Smuggler, the merchant in the city.
Sir H. What makes him so gay?
Vizard. Why, he's in mourning.
Sir H. In mourning?
Vizard. Yes, for his father. The kind old man in Hertfordshire t'other day broke his neck a fox-hunting; the son, upon the news, has broke his indentures; whipped from behind the counter into the side-box. He keeps his coach and liveries, brace of geldings, leash of mistresses, talks of nothing but wines, intrigues, plays, fashions, and going to the jubilee.
Sir H. Ha! ha! ha! how many pounds of pulvil must the fellow use in sweetening himself from the smell of hops and tobacco? Faugh! – I' my conscience methought, like Olivia's lover, he stunk of Thames-Street. But now for Angelica, that's her name: we'll to the prince's chocolate-house, where you shall write my passport. Allons. [Exeunt.
Lady L. Parly, my pocket-book – let me see – Madrid, Paris, Venice, London! – Ay, London! They may talk what they will of the hot countries, but I find love most fruitful under this climate – In a month's space have I gained – let me see, imprimis, Colonel Standard.
Parly. And how will your ladyship manage him?
Lady L. As all soldiers should be managed; he shall serve me till I gain my ends, then I'll disband him.
Parly. But he loves you, madam.
Lady L. Therefore I scorn him;
I hate all that don't love me, and slight all that do;
'Would his whole deluding sex admir'd me,
Thus would I slight them all.
My virgin and unwary innocence
Was wrong'd by faithless man;
But now, glance eyes, plot brain, dissemble face,
Lie tongue, and
Plague the treacherous kind. —
Let me survey my captives. —
The colonel leads the van; next, Mr. Vizard,
He courts me out of the "Practice of Piety,"
Therefore is a hypocrite;
Then Clincher, he adores me with orangerie,
And is consequently a fool;
Then my old merchant, Alderman Smuggler,
He's a compound of both; – out of which medley of lovers, if I don't make good diversion – What d'ye think, Parly?
Parly. I think, madam, I'm like to be very virtuous in your service, if you teach me all those tricks that you use to your lovers.
Lady L. You're a fool, child; observe this, that though a woman swear, forswear, lie, dissemble, backbite, be proud, vain, malicious, any thing, if she secures the main chance, she's still virtuous; that's a maxim.
Parly. I can't be persuaded, though, madam, but that you really loved Sir Harry Wildair in Paris.
Lady L. Of all the lovers I ever had, he was my greatest plague, for I could never make him uneasy: I left him involved in a duel upon my account: I long to know whether the fop be killed or not.
Oh lord! no sooner talk of killing, but the soldier is conjured up. You're upon hard duty, colonel, to serve your king, your country, and a mistress too.
Colonel S. The latter, I must confess, is the hardest; for in war, madam, we can be relieved in our duty; but in love, he, who would take our post, is our enemy; emulation in glory is transporting, but rivals here intolerable.
Lady L. Those that bear away the prize in arms, should boast the same success in love; and, I think, considering the weakness of our sex, we should make those our companions who can be our champions.
Colonel S. I once, madam, hoped the honour of defending you from all injuries, through a title to your lovely person; but now my love must attend my fortune. My commission, madam, was my passport to the fair; adding a nobleness to my passion, it stamped a value on my love; 'twas once the life of honour, but now its winding sheet; and with it must my love be buried.
Parly. What? disbanded, Colonel?
Colonel S. Yes, Mrs. Parly.
Parly. Faugh, the nauseous fellow! he stinks of poverty already. [Aside.
Lady L. His misfortune troubles me, because it may prevent my designs. [Aside.
Colonel S. I'll chuse, madam, rather to destroy my passion by absence abroad, than have it starved at home.
Lady L. I'm sorry, sir, you have so mean an opinion of my affection, as to imagine it founded upon your fortune. And, to convince you of your mistake, here I vow, by all that's sacred, I own the same affection now as before. Let it suffice, my fortune is considerable.
Colonel S. No, madam, no; I'll never be a charge to her I love! The man, that sells himself for gold, is the worst of prostitutes.
Lady L. Now, were he any other creature but a man, I could love him. [Aside.
Colonel S. This only last request
