you the bills are altered since you saw them, and now there are two admirable comedies at both houses.

Mood. But my daughter loves serious plays. Warn. They are tragi-comedies, sir, for both. Sir Mart. I have heard her say, she loves none but tragedies.

Mood. Where have you heard her say so, sir? Warn. Sir, you forget yourself; you never saw her in your life before.

Sir Mart. What, not at Canterbury, in the cathedral church there? This is the impudentest rascal

Warn. Mum, sir.

Sir Mart. Ah Lord, what have I done! As I hope to be saved, sir, it was before I was aware; for if ever I set eyes on her before this day, I wish

Mood. This fellow is not so much fool, as he makes one believe he is.

Mill. I thought he would be discovered for a wit: This 'tis to over-act one's part!

[Aside. Mood. Come away, daughter, I will not trust you in his hands; there's more in it than I imagined.

[Exeunt MOODY, MILL. Lady DUPE, and ROSE. Sir Mart. Why do you frown upon me so, when you know your looks go to the heart of me? What have I done besides a little lapsus linguæ?

Warn. Why, who says you have done any thing? You, a mere innocent!

Sir Mart. As the child that's to be born, in my intentions; if I know how I have offended myself any more than-in one word

Warn. But don't follow me, however: I have nothing to say to you.

Sir Mart. I'll follow you to the world's end, till you forgive me.

Warn. I am resolved to lead you a dance then.

[Exit running. Sir Mart. The rogue has no mercy in him; but I must mollify him with money.

SCENE II.

Enter Lady DUPE.

[Exit.

L. Dupe. Truly, my little cousin's the aptest scholar, and takes out love's lessons so exactly, that 1 joy to see it: She has got already the bond of two thousand pounds sealed for her portion, which I keep for her; a pretty good beginning: Tis true, I believe he has enjoyed her, and so let him; Mark Antony wooed not at so dear a price.

Enter, to her, CHRISTIAN.

Chr. O madam, I fear I am breeding!

L. Dupe. A taking wench! but 'tis no matter; have you told any body?

Chr. I have been venturing upon your foundations, a little to dissemble.

L. Dupe. That's a good child; I hope it will thrive with thee, as it has with me: Heaven has a blessing in store upon our endeavours.

Chr. I feigned myself sick, and kept my bed; my lord, he came to visit me, and, in the end, I disclosed it to him, in the saddest passion!

L. Dupe. This frightened him, I hope, into a study how to cloak your disgrace, lest it should have vent to his lady.

Chr. 'Tis true; but all the while I subtly drove it, that he should name you to me as the fittest instrument of the concealment; but how to break it to you, strangely does perplex him. He has been seeking you all over the house; therefore, I'll leave your ladyship, for fear we should be seen together.

[Exit.

L. Dupe. Now I must play my part; Nature, in women, teaches more than art.

Enter Lord.

Lord. Madam, I have a secret to impart; a sad one too, and have no friend to trust, but only you. L. Dupe. Your lady, or your children, sick? Lord. Not that I know.

L. Dupe. You seem to be in health.
Lord. In body, not in mind.

L. Dupe. Some scruple of conscience, I warrant; my_chaplain shall resolve you,

Lord. Madam, my soul's tormented.

L. Dupe. O take heed of despair, my lord! Lord. Madam, there is no medicine for this sickness, but only you; your friendship's my safe haven, else I am lost, and shipwrecked.

L. Dupe. Pray tell me what it is.

Lord. Could I express it by sad sighs and groans, or drown it with myself in seas of tears, I should be happy, would, and would not tell.

L. Dupe. Command whatever I can serve you in; I will be faithful still to all your ends, provided they be just and virtuous.

Lord. That word has stopt me.

L. Dupe. Speak out, my lord, and boldly tell

what 'tis.

Lord. Then, in obedience to your commands; your cousin is with child.

L. Dupe. Which cousin?

Lord. Your cousin Christian, here in the house. L. Dupe. Alas! then she has stolen a marriage, and undone herself: Some young fellow, on my conscience, that's a beggar; youth will not be advised: well, I'll never meddle more with girls; one is no more assured of them, than grooms of mules ;

they'll strike when least one thinks on't: But pray, your lordship, what is her choice then for a husband? Lord. She is not married, that I know of, madam.

L. Dupe. Not married! 'tis impossible; the girl does sure abuse you. I know her education has been such, the flesh could not prevail; therefore, she does abuse you, it must be so.

Lord. Madam, not to abuse you longer, she is with child, and I the unfortunate man, who did this most unlucky act.

L. Dupe. You! I'll never believe it.

Lord. Madam, 'tis too true; believe it, and be serious how to hide her shame; I beg it here upon my knees. [She faints away. Lord. Who's there? Who's there? Help, help, help!

L. Dupe. Oh, oh, oh!

Enter two women, Rose, and Mrs MILLISENT,

1 Wom. O merciful God, my lady's gone! 2 Wom. Whither?

1 Wom. To heaven; God knows, to heaven! Rose. Rub her, rub her; fetch warm clothes! 2 Wom. I say, run to the cabinet of quintessence; Gilbert's water! Gilbert's water!

1 Wom. Now all the good folks of heaven look down upon her!

Mill. Set her in the chair.

Rose. Open her mouth with a dagger or a key; pour, pour! Where's the spoon?

2 Wom. She stirs! she revives! merciful to us all! what a thing was this? speak, lady, speak! L. Dupe. So, so, so!

Mill. Alas! my lord, how came this fit?
Lord. With sorrow, madam.

L. Dupe. Now I am better: Bess, you have not seen me thus?

1 Wom. Heaven forefend that I should live to see you so again.

L. Dupe. Go, go, I'm pretty well; withdraw into the next room; but be near, I pray, for fear of the worst. [They go out.] My lord, sit down near me, I pray; I'll strive to speak a few words to you, and then to bed; nearer, my voice is faint. My lord, heaven knows how I have ever loved you; and is this my reward? Had you none to abuse but me in that unfortunate fond girl, that you know was dearer to me than my life? This was not love to her, but an inveterate malice to poor me. Oh, oh! [Faints again.

Lord. Help, help, help!

All the women again.

1 Wom. This fit will carry her: Alas, it is a lechery!

2 Wom. The balsam, the balsam!

1 Wom. No, no, the chemistry oil of rosemary: Hold her up, and give her air.

Mill. Feel whether she breathes, with your hand before her mouth.

Rose. No, madam, 'tis key-cold.

1 Wom. Look up, dear madam, if you have any hope of salvation!

2 Wom. Hold up your finger, madam, if you have any hope of fraternity. O the blessed saints, that hear me not, take her mortality to them!

L. Dupe. Enough, so, 'tis well-withdraw, and let me rest a while; only my dear lord remain. 1 Wom. Pray your lordship keep her from sweb[Exeunt women. Lord. Here humbly, once again, I beg your pardon and your help.

bing.

L. Dupe. Heaven forgive you, and I do : Stand