Debt. Besides, I have just now a lazy Trull of a Daughter, that run away with a Foot Soldier, return'd big with the Lord knows what, and that's no small Charge to me, that am forc'd to pad it about for a Livelihood.

L. Rod. Well, you may leave a Pound of Powder.

Ind. Wom. [Aside.] A Pound of Powder, pox o'your Generosity, these great Ladies are grown as stingy as if they paid one ready Mony, were it not for a City-bubble now and then, I might e'en go dance with the Dogs in May-Fair.

L. Rod. [To the Toy-Man.] Mr. Gimcrack, what new Fancies have you brought this Morning?

Toy-M. A Pair of nice Genoa Gloves for your Ladyship, curiously made up in a gilt Wallnut Shell.

L. Rod A Wallnut Shell! they can't be large enough.

Toy-M. Madam, I sold six Pair to my Lady Strammell, and her Arm's nine Inches Diameter.

L. Rod. What else have you?

Toy-M. A choice Comb for your Eye-brows, Madam, an acute Pair o'
Pinchers for your Hair, and a most ingenious French Knife to slice the
Powder of your Ladyship's Forehead, with Tongs, Shovels, Grates, and
Fenders for your Ladyship's Tea-Table.

L. Rod. Well, carry the things in, let your Bills be deliver'd to the
Steward, and I'll order some part of your Mony.

All. We humbly thank your Ladyship. [Exeunt.

L. Rod. Now, Cozen, we have dispatch'd these necessary Animals; pray, tell me how the Town relishes my Appearance.

Mrs. Lov. Your Ladyship's inimitable Graces, and our vast Successes abroad are the Topicks that furnish all Conversation; one Lady cries at the gilt Chariot, another swoons at the prancing Horses; and my old Lady Lack-it, swears you have so handsom a Set of Foot-men, the dreams of nothing else; then your Ladyship's Furniture is most surprizing, ev'ry thing was so admir'd, and handl'd last Visiting-day, the Ladies left little of it behind 'em.

L. Rod. Bagatelle! Ladies steal from one another, not for the Value of
the thing, but to make an Alteration in their Closets.—But what do the
Malitious say, am I envy'd, Cozen, I wou'd n't ha' the Fatigue of an
Estate, unless I cou'd make the World uneasie about it.

Mrs. Lov. Oh! Spleen, Spleen, Madam, to the last Degree—my Lady Testy has tore fifty Fans about you, broke all her China, and beat her Foot-man's Eye out; she says, 'tis a burning Shame, you monopolize all the Fellows in the Town; and truly, there's a Statute against ingrossing.—My Lady Prudence Maxim, cries, A fine Estate is a fine Thing, finely manag'd, but to overdo at first, to undo at last. And Mrs. Indigo, the Merchant's Wife, says, If you knew the getting on't, you wou'd n't spend it so fast.

L. Rod. I have six thousand a Year, and resolve to live single, and enjoy it; I have made the Tour of Italy and France, have given my self the Accomplishment of both Sexes, and design to Visit, Game, Revel, dust the Park, haunt the Theatres, and out-flutter e'er a Fop i'the Nation; and I know not why a Lady that has the best Estate i'the County shou'd n't represent 'em in Parliament.

Mrs. Lov. But launching out too far, Madam, may draw Reflections on your
Conduct, the English Ladies are more reserv'd than Foreigners.

L. Rod. The English Ladies! Shall a Corner of Europe teach me Decorums, that have travers'd the whole. The French Ladies admire my Gayety; the Italians are ravish'd with my Grandeur, and if the English Ladies do blame my Conduct, who values the Censure of a little Island.— Oh! what Transports do I feel, to provoke the Eyes and Whispers of the Multitude,—Whose Equipage is that—My Lady Rodomont's?—Whose Visiting-day is it—My Lady Rodomont's?—Who bespoke the Play to Night— My Lady Rodomont?—But when she's once marry'd—What "Gentlewoman's that with the great Belly—Sir Marmaduke Mortgage's Wife, that's come to Town to buy Clouts, her Husband lost his Estate at Roly-poly.—She's mighty Big indeed, I'm afraid she'll ha' two. Unless one cou'd find out some Plant of a Husband, with Life and no Soul; a governable, drudging Creature, that wou'd love, honour and obey his Wife; and know so little of his own Prerogative, as to change his Name for her.

Mrs. Lov. Really, Madam, I'm o' your Opinion, I'd have Petticoat- Government pass thro' the Nation; the Ladies shou'd possess the Estates, and make their Husbands a Jointure.

L. Rod. While a Woman o' Fortune remains unmarry'd, she's a Petty-Queen; Lovers innumerable trace her Steps; each Coxcomb thinks to be the happy Man, and ev'ry were her Presence makes a Court—but when her Reason's once subdu'd by Love, and the fond, foolish Nymph resigns her Pow'r, she's but a meer Appendix to a Fellow.

    No more her darling Liberty can boast,
    Lovers no more her quondam Beauties toast,
    But all her Pleasure, Pride and Charms are lost.

End of the First ACT.

ACT II.

SCENE, The Park.

Sir Harry_, and the_ Collonel.

Col. Never a loose Lady tripping through the Park to whet one's Appetite this Morning?

Sir Har. Fie, Collonel, refine your Tast;——A common Woman! I'd as soon dine at a common Ordinary: Give me a Woman of Condition, there's Pride as well as Pleasure in such an Amour.

Col. Your Women of Condition, Pox on em, are like Noblemen's Dinners, all Garniture and no Meat, then, the Ceremony of Approach and Retire, palls a Man's Inclination, 'till he grows indifferent i' the Matter;— Wou'd you Charm me, give me a ruddy Country Wench to riffe on the Grass, with no other resistance than,—What a Dickens, is the Man berwattl'd, you are an impudent, bold Rogue, and I'll call my Mother: Besides, the fear of Scandal makes your great Ladies preserve a foolish kind of Virtue, their Principles wou'd fain get rid of.

Sir Har. You are deceiv'd, Collonel, Women of Quality are above Reputation.—Is it my Lady Tipple-dram's Modesty, or the effect of Ratifia, that gives her a high Colour in the Drawing-room?—Is my Lady Sluggard's Religion question'd, that has never been at Church since her Baptism, or my Lady Gamesom's Virtue suspected for admiring Collonel Sturdy's Regiment; both Sexes of Rank, now, use what Liberty they please without censuring one another, and consequently despise the tattling of Inferiours.

Col. Ha! what pert Fellow's this, that whisks it along in a Silk-Drugget Suit, with the empty Air of a Fop Mercer, or a Judge's Train-bearer?

Sir Har. Oh! 'Tis young Nicknack, a Beau Merchant, his Father dy'd lately, and left him considerably in Money, he has been bred to business, with a Liberty of Pleasure, a little vain and affected as most young Fellows are; but his Foppery is rather pretty and diverting than tiresome and impertinent. For his Father obliging him still to live in the City, and follow Business, he has turn'd Commerce into a Jest, and calls himself, The Ladies Merchant; for he imports nothing but Squirrels, Lap-dogs and Guinea piggs to insnare the Women.

Enter Nicknack.

Nick. Dear Sir Harry, I have been twice round the Park, in search of