_Aw"dw._ Tho" I thought not of your Play?
_Mars._ That"s worse.
_Aw"dw._ Your Carriage, your cruel Carriage, was the thing I meant. If there shou"d be a Man of Quality, as you call "em, I must not dare to own I know you.
_Mars._ And well remembred. My Lord Duke promis"d he"d be there.--Oh Heav"ns! I wou"d not stay another moment, No, not to finish a Speech in _Catiline_. What a Monster was I to forget it! Oh Jehu! My Lord Duke, and Sir _Thomas_! _Pat._ another Chair, Sir _Thomas_ and my Lord Duke both stay.--[_Exit running._
_Aw"dw._ Follow, follow. Fool, be gorg"d and glutted with Abuses, then throw up them and Love together.--[_Exit._
SCENE the Play-House.
_Enter Mr._ Johnson, _Mr._ Pinkethman, _Mrs._ Lucas, _and Miss_ Cross.
Mrs. _Cross_. Good morrow Mrs. _Lucas_; why what"s the Whim, that we must be all dress"d at Rehearsal, as if we play"d?
Mrs. _Lucas_, "Tis by the Desire of Madam _Maggot_ the Poetess, I suppose.
Mrs. _Cross_. She is a little whimsical, I think, indeed; for this is the most incomprehensible Part I ever had in my Life; and when I complain, all the Answer I get is, "tis New, and "tis odd; and nothing but new things and odd things will do--Where"s Mr. _Powell_, that we may try a little before she comes.
Mr. _Johnson_. At the Tavern, Madam.
Mrs. _Cross_. At the Tavern in a Morning?
Mr. _Johns._ Why, how long have you been a Member of this Congregation, pretty _Miss_, and not know honest _George_ regards neither Times nor Seasons in Drinking?
_Enter Mrs._ Wellfed.
Mrs. _Cross_. O! Here comes Mrs. _Wellfed_. Your Servant Madam.
Mrs. _Wellf._ Your Servant Gentlemen and Ladies.
Mrs. _Lucas_. Sit down, Mrs. _Wellfed_, you are out of Breath.
Mrs. _Wellf._ Walking a Pace, and this ugly Cough--[_Coughs._ Well the Lady"s a coming, and a couple of Beaus, but I perceive you need not care who comes, you are all dress"d.
Mrs. _Cross_. So it seems. I think they talk she expects a Duke.
Mrs. _Wellf._ Here"s two of the Company.
_Enter Mr._ Praiseall _and_ Calista.
_Prais._ Dear Mrs. _Cross_, your Beauties Slave.
Mrs. _Cross_. Upon Condition, "tis then, if I have no Beauty, you are no Slave; and the matter is just as "twas.
_Prais._ Sharp, Sharp.--Charming _Isabella_, let me kiss the Strap of your Shoe, or the Tongue of your Buckle.
Mrs. _Cross_. Now have I such a mind to kick him i"th" Chops.-- [_Aside._ Oh fye, Sir, What d"ye mean?
_Calista._ So, now he"s got among the Players, I may hang my self for a Spark.
Mr. _Pink._ Prithee _Johnson_, who is that?
Mr. _Johns._ He belongs to one of the Inns of Chancery.
Mr. _Pink._ A Lawyer?
Mr. _Johns._ I can"t say that of the Man neither, tho" he sweats hard in Term-time, and always is as much at _Westminster_, as he that has most to do.
Mr. _Pink._ Does he practice?
Mr. _Johns._ Walking there, much.
Mr. _Pink._ But I mean, the Laws?
Mr. _Johns._ How to avoid its Penalty only. The Men are quite tir"d with him, for you shall generally see him oagling after the Women. He makes a shift to saunter away his Hours till the Play begins; after you shall be sure to behold his ill-favour"d Phyz, peeping out behind the Scenes, at both Houses.
Mr. _Pink._ What, at one time?
Mr. _Johns._ No, Faith, "tis his moving from one House to "tother takes up his time, which is the Commodity sticks of his Hands, for he has neither Sense nor Patience to hear a Play out.
Mr. _Pink._ I have enough of him, I thank you Sir.
_Calista._ How d"ye Madam? [_To Mrs._ Wellfed.
Mrs. _Wellf._ At your Service, Madam.
_Calista._ _Marsilia_ committed me to the Care of Mr. _Praiseall_; but more powerful Charms have robb"d me of my Gallant.
Mrs. _Wellf._ I thank Heav"n, I"m big enough to take care of myself.
Indeed to neglect a young pretty Lady, expose her unmask"d amongst a Company of wild Players, is very dangerous.
_Calist._ Unmask"d! Humph! I"ll be ev"n with you for that. [_Aside._ Madam, I have read all your excellent Works, and I dare say, by the regular Correction, you are a Latinist, tho" _Marsilia_ laught at it.
Mrs. _Wellf._ _Marsilia_ shews her Folly, in laughing at what she don"t understand. Faith, Madam, I must own my ignorance, I can go no further than the eight Parts of Speech.
_Calist._ Then I cannot but take the Freedom to say, you, or whoever writes, imposes upon the Town.
Mrs. _Wellf._ "Tis no imposition, Madam, when ev"ry Body"s inclination"s free to like, or dislike a thing.
_Calist._ Your Pardon, Madam.
_Prais._ How"s this? Whilst I am making Love, I shall have my two Heroines wage War. Ladies, what"s your Dispute?
Mrs. _Wellf._ Not worth appealing to a Judge, in my Opinion.
_Calista._ I"ll maintain it with my Life. Learning is absolutely necessary to all who pretend to Poetry.