But what will the World say to such a Match?

D. Lop. Sir, I value not the World a Button.

Fred. I cannot think your Daughter can have any Inclination for such a Husband.

D. Lop. There I believe you are pretty much in the right, tho' it is a Secret which I never had the Curiosity to enquire into, nor I believe ever shall.—Inclination, quotha! Parents would have a fine Time on't if they consulted their Childrens Inclinations! I'll venture you a Wager, that in all the garrison Towns in Spain and Portugal, during the late War, there were not three Women, who have not had an Inclination to every Officer in the whole Army; does it therefore follow, that their Fathers ought to pimp for them? No, no, Sir, it is not a Father's Business to follow his Childrens Inclinations till he makes himself a Beggar.

Fred. But this is of another Nature, my Lord.

D. Lop. Look ye, Sir, I resolve she shall marry Don Guzman the Moment he arrives; tho' I cou'd not govern my Son, I will my Daughter, I assure you.

Fred. This Match, my Lord, is more preposterous than that which you proposed to your Son, from whence arose this fatal Quarrel.—Don Antonio's Sister, Elvira, wanted Beauty only, but Guzman every thing, but—

D. Lop. Money—and that will purchase everything, and so Adieu.

[Exit.

Fred. Monstrous! These are the Resolutions which destroy the Comforts of Matrimony—he is rich, and well born, powerful Arguments indeed! Could I but add them to the Friendship of Don Felix, what might I not hope? But a Merchant, and a Grandee of Spain, are inconsistent Names—Lissardo! from whence came you?

Enter Lissardo in a Riding Habit.

Liss. That Letter will inform you, Sir.

Fred. I hope your Master's safe.

Liss. I left him so; I have another to deliver which requires haste—Your most humble Servant, Sir. [bowing.]

Fred. To Violante, I suppose.

Liss. The same.

[Exit.

Fred. (Reads)

Dear Frederick, the two chief Blessings of this Life are a Friend, and a Mistress; to be debarred the Sight of those is not to live. I hear nothing of Antonio's Death, therefore resolve to venture to thy House this Evening, impatient to see Violante, and embrace my Friend. Yours,

Felix.

Pray Heaven he comes undiscover'd.—Ha! Colonel Britton.

Enter Colonel Britton in a Riding Habit.

Col. Frederick, I rejoice to see thee.

Fred. What brought you to Lisbon, Colonel?

Col. La Fortune de la Guerre, as the French say, I have commanded these three last Years in Spain, but my Country has thought fit to strike up a Peace, and give us good Protestants leave to hope for Christian Burial, so I resolve to take Lisbon in my Way home.

Fred. If you are not provided of a Lodging, Colonel, pray command my House, while you stay.

Col. If I were sure I should not be troublesome, I wou'd accept your Offer, Frederick.

Fred. So far from Trouble, Colonel, I shall take it as a particular Favour; what have we here?

Col. My Footman, this is our Country Dress, you must know, which for the Honour of Scotland, I make all my Servants wear.

Enter Gibby in a Highland Dress.

Gib. What mun I de with the Horses, an like yer Honour, they will tack cold gin they stand in the Causeway.

Fred. Oh! I'll take care of them, what hoa Vasquez!

Enter Vasquez.

Put those Horses which that honest Fellow will show you into my Stable, do you hear? and feed them well.

Vas. Yes, Sir.—Sir, by my Master's Order, I am, Sir, your most obsequious humble Servant. Be pleas'd to lead the Way. [bowing.]

Gib. S'bled gang yer gat, Sir, and I sall follow ye: Ise tee hungry to feed on Compliments.

[Exit.

Fred. Ha, ha, a comical Fellow.—Well, how do you like our Country, Colonel?

Col. Why Faith, Frederick, a Man might pass his Time agreeable enough with-inside of a Nunnery, but to behold such Troops of soft, plump, tender, melting, wishing, nay willing Girls too, thro' a damn'd Grate, gives us Britons strong Temptation to plunder. Ah Frederick your Priests are wicked Rogues. They immure Beauty for their own proper Use, and show it only to the Laity to create Desires, and inflame Accompts, that they may purchase Pardons at a dearer Rate.

Fred. I own Wenching is something more difficult here than in England, where Womens Liberties are subservient to their Inclinations, and Husbands seem of no Effect but to take Care of the Children which their Wives provide.

Col. And does Restraint get the better of Inclination with your Women here? No, I'll be sworn not one even in fourscore. Don't I know the Constitution of the Spanish Ladies?

Fred. And of all Ladies where you come, Colonel, you were ever a Man of Gallantry.

Col. Ah Frederick, the Kirk half starves us Scotchmen. We are kept so sharp at home, that we feed like Cannibals abroad. Hark ye, hast thou never a pretty Acquaintance now, that thou would'st consign over to a Friend for half an Hour, ha?

Fred. Faith, Colonel, I am the worst Pimp in Christendom, you had better trust to your own Luck! the Women will soon find you out, I warrant you.

Col. Ay, but it is dangerous foraging in an Enemy's Country, and since I have some hopes of seeing my own again, I had rather purchase my Pleasure, than run the Hazard of a Stilletto in my Guts. 'Egad, I think I must e'en marry, and sacrifice my Body for the Good of my Soul. Wilt thou recommend me to a Wife then, one that is willing to exchange her Moydores for English Liberty; ha Friend?

Fred. She must be very handsome, I suppose.

Col. The handsomer the better—but be sure she has a Nose.

Fred. Ay, ay, and some Gold.

Col. Oh, very much Gold, I shall never be able to swallow the Matrimonial Pill, if it be not well gilded.

Fred. Puh, Beauty will make it slide down nimbly.

Col. At first perhaps it may, but the second or third Dose will choak me—I confess Frederick, Women are the prettiest Play-things in Nature; but Gold, substantial Gold, gives 'em the Air, the Mien, the Shape, the Grace, and Beauty of a Goddess.

Fred. And has not Gold the same Divinity in their Eyes, Colonel?

Col. Too often.—Money is the very God of Marriage; the Poets dress him in a Saffron Robe, by which they figure out the golden Deity, and his lighted Torch blazons those mighty Charms, which encourage us to list under his Banner.

None marry now for Love, no, that's a Jest.
The self same Bargain, serves for Wife, and Beast.

Fred. You are always gay, Colonel; come, shall we take a refreshing Glass at my House, and consider what has been said?

Col. I have two or three Compliments to discharge for some Friends, and then I shall wait on you with Pleasure: Where do you live?

Fred. At yon Corner House with the green Rails.

Col. In the Close of the Evening I will endeavour to kiss your Hand. Adieu.

[Exit.

Fred. I shall expect you with Impatience.

[Exit.

Enter Isabella and Inis her Maid.

Inis. For Goodness sake, Madam, where are you going in this Pet?

Isab. Any where to avoid Matrimony; the Thought of a Husband is as terrible to me as the Sight of a Hobgoblin.

Inis. Ay, of an old Husband; but if you may chuse for yourself, I fancy Matrimony would be no such frightful thing to you.

Isab. You are pretty much in the right, Inis; but to be forc'd into the Arms of an Ideot, a sneaking, snivling, drivling, avaricious Fool, who has neither Person to please the Eye, Sense to charm the Ear, nor Generosity to supply those Defects. Ah, Inis! what pleasant Lives Women lead in England, where Duty wears no Fetter but Inclination: The Custom of our Country inslaves us from our very Cradles, first to our Parents, next to our Husbands; and when Heaven is so kind to rid us of both these, our Brothers still usurp Authority, and expect a blind Obedience from us; so that Maids, Wives, or Widows, we are little better than Slaves to the Tyrant Man; therefore to avoid their Power, I resolve to cast myself into a Monastery.

Inis. That is, you'll cut your own Throat to avoid another's doing it for you. Ah, Madam, those Eyes tell me you have no Nun's Flesh about you; a Monastery, quotha! Where you'll wish yourself in the Green-Sickness in a Month.

Isab. What care I, there will be no Man to plague me.

Inis. No, nor what's much worse, to please you neither—Ad'slife, Madam, you are the first Woman that e'er despair'd in a Christian Country—Were I in your Place—

Isab. Why, what would your Wisdom do if you were?

Inis. I'd imbark with the first fair Wind with all my Jewels, and seek my Fortune on t'other side the Water; no Shore can treat you worse than your own; there's ne'er a Father in Christendom should make me marry any Man against my Will.

Isab. I am too great a Coward to follow your Advice. I must contrive some way to avoid Don Guzman, and yet stay in my own Country.

Enter Don Lopez.

Lop. Must you so, Mistress? but I shall take Care to prevent you. (Aside.) Isabella, whither are you going, my Child.

Isab. Ha! my Father! to Church, Sir.

Inis. The old Rogue has certainly over-heard her. (Aside.)

Lop. Your Devotion must needs be very strong, or your Memory, very weak, my Dear; why, Vespers are over for this Night; come, come, you shall have a better Errand to Church than to say your Prayers there. Don Guzman is arriv'd in the River, and I expect him ashore To-morrow.

Isab. Ha, To-morrow!

Lop. He writes me Word, That his Estate in Holland is worth 12000 Crowns a Year, which, together with what he had before, will make thee the happiest Wife in Lisbon.

Isab. And the most unhappy Woman in the World. Oh Sir! If I have any Power in your Heart, if the Tenderness of a Father be not quite extinct, hear me with Patience.

Lop. No Objection against the Marriage, and I will hear whatever thou hast to say.

Isab. That's torturing me on the Rack, and forbidding me to groan; upon my Knees I claim the Privilege of Flesh and Blood. (Kneels.)

Lop. I grant it, thou shalt have an Arm full of Flesh and Blood To-morrow; Flesh and Blood, quotha; Heaven forbid I should deny thee Flesh and Blood, my Girl.

Inis. Here's an old Dog for you. (Aside.)

Isab. Do not Mistake, Sir; the fatal Stroke which separates Soul and Body, is not more terrible to the Thoughts of Sinners, than the Name of Guzman to my Ear.

Lop. Puh, Puh; you lye, you lye.

Isab. My frighted Heart beats hard against my Breast, as if it sought a Passage to your Feet, to beg you'd change your Purpose.

Lop. A very pretty Speech this; if it were turn'd into blank Verse, it would serve for a Tragedy; why, thou hast more Wit than I thought thou hadst, Child.—I fancy this was all extempore, I don't believe thou did'st ever think of one Word on't before.

Inis. Yes, but she has, my Lord, for I have heard her say the same Things a thousand Times.

Lop. How, how? What do you top your second-hand Jests upon your Father, Hussy, who knows better what's good for you than you do yourself? remember 'tis your Duty to obey.

Isab. (Rising.) I never disobey'd before, and wish I had not Reason now; but Nature has got the better of my Duty, and makes me loath the harsh Commands you lay.

Lop. Ha, ha, very fine! Ha, ha.

Isab. Death itself wou'd be more welcome.

Lop. Are you sure of that?

Isab. I am your Daughter, my Lord, and can boast as strong a Resolution as yourself; I'll die before I'll marry Guzman.

Lop. Say you so? I'll try that presently. (Draws.) Here let me see with what Dexterity you can breathe a Vein now (offers her his Sword.) The Point is pretty sharp, 'twill do your Business I warrant you.

Inis. Bless me, Sir, What do you mean to put a Sword into the Hands of a desperate Woman?

Lop. Desperate, ha, ha, ha, you see how desperate she is; what art thou frighted little Bell? ha!

Isab. I confess I am startled at your Morals, Sir.

Lop. Ay, ay, Child, thou hadst better take the Man, he'll hurt thee the least of the two.

Isab. I shall take neither, Sir; Death has many Doors, and when I can live no longer with Pleasure, I shall find one to let him in at without your Aid.

Lop. Say'st thou so, my dear Bell? Ods, I'm afraid thou art a little Lunatick, Bell.