Volume Ii Part 67 (1/2)

[Wild. _turns, sees_ Clacket.

_Wild_. Death and the Devil, Clacket! then 'tis _Charlot_, and I'm discover'd to her.

_Char_. Say, are you not a false dissembling thing?

[_To_ Wild. _in anger_.

_Wild_. What, my little Northern La.s.s translated into Englis.h.!.+

This 'tis to practise Art in spite of Nature.

Alas, thy Vertue, Youth, and Innocence, Were never made for Cunning, I found ye out through all your forc'd disguise.

_Char_. Hah, did you know me then?

_Wild_. At the first glance, and found you knew me too, And talkt to yonder Lady in revenge, Whom my Uncle would have me marry. But to avoid all Discourses of that nature, I came to Night in this Disguise you see, to be conceal'd from her; that's all.

_Char_. And is that all, on Honour? Is it, Dear?

_Wild_. What, no Belief, no Faith in villanous Women?

_Char_. Yes, when I see the Writings.

_Wild_. Go home, I die if you shou'd be discover'd: And credit me, I'll bring you all you ask.

Clacket, you and I must have an old Reckoning about this Night's Jant of yours. [Aside to Clacket.

Sir _Tim_. Well, my Lord, how do you like our English Beauties?

_Wild_. Extremely, Sir; and was pressing this young Lady to give us a Song.

[_Here is an Italian Song in two Parts_.

Sir _Tim_. I never saw this Lady before: pray who may she be, Neighbour?

[_To_ Clacket.

Mrs. _Clack_. A Niece of mine, newly come out of Scotland, Sir.

Sir _Tim_. Nay, then she dances by nature. Gentlemen and Ladies, please you to sit, here's a young Neighbour of mine will honour us with a Dance.

[_They all sit_; Charl. _and_ Fop. _dance_.

So, so; very well, very well. Gentlemen and Ladies, I am for Liberty of Conscience, and Moderation. There's a Banquet waits the Ladies, and my Cellars are open to the Men; but for my self, I must retire; first waiting on your Lords.h.i.+p to shew you your Apartment, then leave you to _cher entire_: and to morrow, my Lord, you and I will settle the Nation, and will resolve on what return we will make to the n.o.ble Polanders.

[_Exeunt all but_ Wild. Dres. _and_ Fop. _Sir_ Charles _leading out Lady_ Galliard.

Sir _Anth_. Well said, _Charles_, thou leav'st her not till she's thy own, Boy--And Philander was a jolly Swain, &c.

[_Exit singing_.

_Wild_. All things succeed above my Wish, dear _Frank_, Fortune is kind; and more, _Galliard_ is so; This night crowns all my Wishes.

Laboir, are all things ready for our purpose? [_To his Footman_.

_Lab_. Dark Lanthorns, Pistols, Habits and Vizards, Sir.