World; we meet ev'ry Day at a House within the Rules of the Fleet, where we have fat Venison, that's Stole out of Windsor-Park; French Wine, that's Run i'the Wild o' Kent; drink Confusion to our Arms, and talk Treason, till the Vintner crys, Huzza, Drawer bring in my Bottle. And there are of our Club, Four Broken-Officers, Six Suborning-Attorneys, a Disaffected-Cobler, Two Highway-Men, and Eleven Jacobite, Outlaw'd-Parsons.

Sir Har. If you are such an Enemy to your native Country, why don't you course the World, and please your self.

Bram. Thank you, Sir Harry, but tho' things don't go as I'd have them, of all Countries, I like England the best, for 'tis the only Kingdom in the World that suffers Faction; where one may write Libels, affront the Ministry, deride the Laws, and set the whole Nation together by the Ears— but whilst I am idle, mighty Matters are at a stand; in short, my Business here is to make my Addresses to Lady Rodomont, who having lately seen Italy and France, like a true Woman, is return'd with a most horrid Contempt of her own Country, and may like my Principles better than the flutt'ring Airs of you Town-Sparks—afterwards, Gentlemen, I shall be proud of both your Companies to dine in the Press-Yard, in Newgate, with sev'ral very ingenious Persons, that coin better than they do i'the Tower. [Exit.

Col. So, Lady Rodomont's the Cry—How Divine a Creature is a Woman that has Six thousand a Year; the Town's quite mad after her.

Sir Har. And such an Estate's enough to make her mad; Women are too sanguine for such mighty Fortune; Ten thousand Pounds touches a Lady's Brain, but when they prove great Heiresses, they're—

Col. Oh! stark Staring, Raving! and we ought to have the Custody of em.

Sir Har. Let's move towards the Court, Collonel, where we shall meet her sailing down the Mall, and the Fops after her, with all the Pride of a First-Rate Man of War, that's convoying a few petty Merchant-Ships to the West-Indies.

Enter Shrimp with a Letter.

Sir Har. [reads.] By the next return of the Waggon you will receive Master Totty, _who was nineteen Years last Grass, with a Box of _Shrewsbury-Cakes, and a Simnel: His Grand-Mother desires you will put him Clerk to some honest Attorney, if it be possible to find one, and the Child be fit for it, or to what else the Child shall be fit for; but if you find him fit for nothing, that you'll return him with great Care to his Grand-Mother again. He is free from ev'ry Vice, having always lain with his Grand-Mother, gone no where but to visit old Ladies with his Grand-Mother, and has never been out of his Grand-Mother's sight, since he was six Weeks old—What a Pox do the Women send me their Fool to educate, they may as well send me their Heads to dress; but I shall leave him to my Servant; a Town Valet's Tutor and Companion good enough for a Country 'Squire—Shrimp, go to the Saracen's-Head-Inn, enquire for Master Totty, a Man-Child, of nineteen Years of Age, and carry him to my Lodgings. [Exeunt.

Enter Lady Toss-up, and Mrs. Flimsy.

La. Toss. Lord, Flimsy! was there ever an Assurance like my Lady Rodomont's, to engross all the Fellows to her self.

Flim. For that matter, Madam, I cou'd dispence with 'em all, and as many more; but a Lady that declares against Marriage, to suffer such a Train of Beaus, shews her self superlatively Vain-glorious.

La. Toss. A vertuous Woman, that declares against Marriage, may as well declare against Eating and Drinking; all Women have Inclinations to Love; besides, Flimsy, Marriage is an Ordinance, and to declare against it, I take to be a very wicked thing; but if she has made a Vow of Chastity, she might release her Admirers to those Ladies that are willing the World shou'd continue peopl'd. My Lady Love-gang swears she'll go live in Scotland about it; my Lady Dandler lays it so to Heart, I'm afraid she'll be silly; for my part, I bear it—not so patiently as Folks think.

Flim. They say, Madam, she has depriv'd you of some particular Lovers; I'd arrest her for 'em.

La. Toss. Sir Harry Sprightly I have danc'd with; Brigadier Blenheim too has handed me out of the Box, but when Lady Rodomont arriv'd, they both flew from me like a parcel of Fortune-hunters from a reputed City-Heiress, when her Father breaks, and can give her nothing.

Flim. Here she comes, surrounded with Beaus, and I warrant, thinks her self as good as the Queen; if I were the Queen, I'd have her taken up for thinking so. Pray Madam affront her.

Enter Lady Rodomont, and Mrs. Lovejoy, follow'd by Sir Harry, Collonel Blenheim, Mr. Nicknack, Major Bramble, several Fops and Footmen.

La. Rod. Dear Messieurs! give me Breath: Not but a Croud of Beaus are very acceptable; but to press upon one too hard, is like a new Monarch just seated on the Throne, that's stifl'd with Court Cringes—Don't you think, Sir Harry, the Italians that approach us at more distance, show greater Veneration and Respect.

Sir Har. Ladies in their High-Noon of labour'd Garniture,
Are pleas'd, when we admire 'em like the Sun,
Whom none directly looks at,
But in the Ev'ning, as the Sun goes down,
They're better pleas'd we shou'd approach 'em nearer.