we look and say; vain, empty things if we are silent or unseen and want a being.

Mira. Yet, to those two vain empty things, you owe two of the greatest pleasures of your life.

Mill. How so?

Mira. To your lover you owe the pleasure of hearing yourselves praised; and to an echo the pleasure of hearing yourselves talk.

Wit. But I know a lady that loves talking so incessantly, she won't give an echo fair play; she has that everlasting rotation of tongue, that an echo must wait till she dies, before it can catch her last words. Mill. O, fiction! Fainall, let us leave these men. Mira. Draw off Witwould. [Aside to Mrs. Fainall. Mrs. Fain. Immediately: I have a word or two for Mr. Witwould. [Exeunt Mrs. Fainall and Witwould. Mira. I would beg a little private audience too -You had the tyranny to deny me last night; tho' you knew I came to impart a secret to you that concerned my love.

Mill. You saw I was engaged.

Mira. Unkind. You had the leisure to entertain a herd of fools; things who visit you from their excessive idleness; bestowing on your easiness that time, which is the incumbrance of their lives. How can you find delight in such society? It is impossible they should admire you, they are not capable; or if they were, it should be to you as a mortification; for sure to please a fool is some degree of folly.

Mill. I please myself

-Besides, sometimes to con

verse with fools is for my health.

Mira. Your health! Is there a worse disease than

the conversation of fools?

Mill. Yes, the vapours; fools are physic, for it is next to assa-foetida.

Mira. You are not in a course of fools?

Mill. Mirabell, if you persist in this offensive freedom-you'll displease me-I think I must resolve, after all, not to have you-We sha'n't agree. Mira. Not in our physic, it may be.

Mill. And yet our distemper, in all likelihood, will be the same; for we shall be sick of one another. I sha' n't endure to be reprimanded, nor instructed; 'tis so dull to act always by advice, and so tedious to be told of one's faults-I can't bear it. Well, I won't have Mirabell-I'm resolved- -I thinkyou, You may go-Ha, ha, ha! What would you give that you could help loving me?

Mira. I would give something that you did not know I could not help it.

Mill. Come, do n't look grave then. Well, what do you say to me ?

Mira. I say that a man may as soon make a friend by his wit, or a fortune by his honesty, as win a woman with plain dealing and sincerity.

Mill. Sententious Mirabell! Pr'y thee don't look with that violent and inflexible wise face, like Solomon at the dividing of the child in an old tapestry hanging.

Mira. You are merry, madam; but I would persuade you for a moment to be serious.

Mill. What, with that face? No, if you keep your countenance, 't is impossible I should hold mine. Well, after all, there is something very moving in a love-sick face. Ha, ha, ha! Well, I won't laugh, don't be peevish Heigho! Now I'll be melancholy, as melancholy as a watch-light. Well, Mirabell, if ever you will win me, woo me now-Nay, if you are so tedious, fare you well: I see they are walking away.

Mira. Can you not find in the variety of your disposition one moment

Mill. To hear you tell me Foible's married, and your plot like to speed No.

Mira. But how you came to know it————

Mill. Without the help of conjuration, you can't imagine; unless she should tell me herself. Which of the two it may have been, I will leave you to consider; and when you have done thinking of that, think of me. [Exeunt Millamant and Mincing.

Mira. I have something more-Gone--Think of you! to think of a whirlwind, though 't were in a whirlwind, were a case of more steady contemplation; a very tranquillity of mind and mansion. A fellow that lives in a windmill, has not a more whimsical dwelling than the heart of a man that is lodged in a woman. There is no point of the compass to which they cannot turn, and by which they are not turned; and by one as well as another; for motion, not method, is their occupation. To know this, and yet

continue to be in love, is to be made wise from the dictates of reason, and yet persevere to play the fool by the force of instinct---O here comes my pair of turtles--- What, billing so sweetly! is not Valentine's day over with you yet?

WAITWELL and FOIBLE enter.

Sirrah, Waitwell, why sure you think you were married for your own recreation, and not for my conveniency.

Wait. Your pardon, sir. With submission, we, have indeed been billing; but still with an eye to business, sir, I have instructed her as well as I could. If she can take your directions as readily as my instructions, sir, your affairs are in a prosperous way. Mira. Give you joy, Mrs. Foible. Foi. O-las, sir, I'm so ashamed-I'm afraid my lady has been in a thousand inquietudes for me. But I protest, sir, I made as much haste as I could.

Wait. That she did indeed, sir. "It was my fault "that she did not make more."

"Mira. That I believe."

Foi. I told my lady as you instructed me, sir: that I had a prospect of seeing Sir Rowland your uncle; and that I would put her ladyship's picture in my pocket to shew him; which I'll be sure to say has made him so enamour'd of her beauty, that he burns with impatience to lie at her ladyship's feet, and worship the original.

Mira. Excellent Foible! Matrimony has made you eloquent in love.

Wait. I think she has profited, sir, I think so.
Foi. You have seen Madam Millamant, sir?

Mira. Yes.

Foi. I told her, sir, because I did not know that you might find an opportunity; she had so much company last night.

Mira. Your diligence will merit more---in the mean time [Gives money.

Foi. O, dear sir, your humble servant.

Wait. Spouse.

-Go on and

Mira. Stand off, sir, not a pennyprosper, Foible—The lease shall be made good, and the farm stock'd, if we succeed.

Foi. I don't question your generosity, sir: and you need not doubt of success. If you have no more commands, sir, I'll be gone; I'm sure my lady is at her toilet, and can't dress till I come.-——— O dear, - I'm sure that [Looking out.] was Mrs. Marwood that

went by in a mask; if she has seen me with you, I'm sure she'll tell my lady. I'll make haste home and prevent her. Your servant, sir. B'w'ye, Waitwell.

[Exit. Wait. Sir Rowland, if you please. The jade's so pert upon her preferment, she forgets herself.

Mira. Come, sir, will you endeavour to forget yourself---and transform into Sir Rowland?

Wait. Why, sir, it will be impossible I should remember myself.--[Exit Mirabell.] Married, knighted, and attended all in one day! 'tis enough to make any man forget himself. The difficulty will be how to re