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have been his estate too. But, since that's gone, the bait's off, and the naked hook appears.

Sir S. Odsbud, well spoken; and you are a wiser woman than I thought you were: for most young women now-a-days are to be tempted with a naked hook.

Ang. If I marry, Sir Sampson, I am for a good estate with any man, and for any man with a good estate : therefore, If I were obliged to make a choice, I declare I'd rather have you than

your Sir S. Faith and troth, you are a wise woman; and I'm glad to hear you say so.

I was afraid you were in love with a reprobate. Odd, I was sorry for you with all my heart, Hang him, mongrel; cast him off. You shall see the rogue shew himself, and make love to some desponding Cadua of fourscore for sustenance. Odd, I love to see a young spendthrift forced to cling to an old woman for support, like ivy round a dead oak-faith I do. I love to see them hug and cotton together, like down upon a thistle.

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Enter Ben and Servant. Ben. Where's father? Serv. There, sir; his back's toward you. [Exit.

Sir S. My son Ben! Bless thee, my dear boy! Body o'me, thou art heartily welcome.

Ben. Thank you, father; and I'm glad to see yon.

Sir S. Odsbud, and I'm glad to see thee. Kiss me, boy; kiss me again and again, dear Ben.

[Kisses hi

thank you,

Ben. So, so, enough, father.--Mess, I'd rather kiss these gentlewomen.

Sir S. And so thou shalt.-Mrs. Angelica, my son Ben.

Ben. Forsooth, if you please! [Salutes her. ]-Nay, mistress, I'm not for dropping anchor here; about ship, i'faith. [Kisses Frail. ]-Nay, and you too, my little cock-boat! so.

[Kisses Miss. Tatt. Sir, you're welcome ashore. Ben. Thank you,

friend. Sir S. Thou hast been many a weary league, Ben, since I saw thee.

Ben. Ey, ey, been? been far enough, and that be all. Well, father, and how do all at home? how does brother Dick, and brother Val?

Sir S. Dick! body o’me, Dick has been dead these two years. I writ you word, when you were at Leghorn.

Ben. Mess, that's true: marry, I had forgot. Dick is dead, as you say. Well, and how, I have a many questions to ask you; well, you ben't married again, father, be you?

Sir S. No, I intend you shall marry, Ben; I would not marry, for thy sake.

Ben. Nay, what does that signify ?--An you marry again—why then, I'll go to sea again, so there's one for t’other, and that be all.-P don't let me be your hindrance ; e'en marry, a God's name, and the wind sit that way.

As for my part, mayhap I have no mind to marry.

Mrs. F. That would be pity, such a handsome young gentleman !

Ben. Handsome! he, he, he! Nay, forsooth, an you be for joking, I'll joke with you; for I love my jest, an the ship were sinking, as we said at sea. But I'll tell you why I don't much stand towards matrimony.

I love to roam about from port to port, and from land - to land : I could never abide to be port-bound, as we

call it. Now a man that is married has, as it were, d'ye see, his feet in the bilboes, and mayhap may’nt get them out again when he would.

Sir S. Ben is a wag.

Ben. A man that is married, d'ye see, is no more like another man, than a galley-slave is like one of us free sailors: he is chained to an oar all his life ; and mayhap forced to tug a leaky vessel into the bargain.

Sir S. A very wag! Ben is a very wag; only a little rough ; he wants a little polishing,

Mrs. F. Not at all; I like his humour mightily: it is plain and honest; I should like such a humour in a husband extremely.

Ben. Say'n you so, forsooth? Marry, and I should like such a handsome gentlewoman for a bed-fellow hugely. How say you, mistress ? would you like going to sea ? Mess, you're a tight vessel, and well rigged, an you were but as well manned.

Mrs. F. I should not doubt that, if you were master of me.

Ben. But I'll tell you one thing, an you come to sea in a high wind, or that lady—you mayn't carry so


much sail o'your head-Top and top gallant, by the mess!

Mrs. F. No? why so?

Ben. Why, an you do, you may run the risk to be overset : and then you'll carry your keels above water-he, he, he!

Ang. I swear, Mr. Benjamin is the veriest wag in nature ; an absolute sea wit.

Sir S. Nay, Ben has parts; but, as I told you before, they want a little polishing. You must not take any thing ill, madam. Ben. No, I hope the gentlewoman is not angry;

I mean all in good part: for, if I give a jest, I'll take a jest; and so, forsooth, you may be as free with me.

Ang. I thank you, sir; I am not at all offended.But methinks, Sir Sampson, you should leave him alone with his mistress. Mr. Tattle, we must not hinder lovers. Tatt. Well, Miss, I have your promise.

[ Aside to Miss. Sir S. Body o’me, madam, you say true.-Look you, Ben, this is your mistress.-Come, miss, you must not be shame-faced ; we'll leave you together.

Miss P. I can't abide to be left alone. Mayn't my cousin stay with me?

Sir S. No, no. Come, let's away.

Ben. Look you, father, mayhap the young woman mayn't take a liking to me.

Sir S. I warrant thee, boy. Come, come, we'll be gone. I'll venture that.

[Exeunt Sir Sampson, Tattle, and Mrs. Frail.

1, Ben. Come, mistress, will you please to sit down ?

For, an you stand a stern a that'n, we shall never grapple together.-Come, I'll hawl a chair; there, an you please to sit, l'll sit by you.

Miss P. You need not sit so near one ; if you have any thing to say, I can hear you farther off; I an't 1 deaf.

Ben. Why that's true, as you say, nor I an't dumb; I can be heard as far as another. I'll heave off, to * please you. (Sits farther off.] An we were a league

asunder, I'd undertake to hold discourse with you, - an 'twere not a main high wind indeed, and full in - my teeth. Look you, forsooth ; I am, as it were,

bound for the land of matrimony : 'tis a voyage, d'ye * see, that was none of my seeking; I was commanded <? by father, and if you like of it, mayhap I may steer

into your harbour. How say you, mistress ? The short of the thing is, that, if you like me, and I like youi, we may chance to swing in a hammock together.

Miss P. I don't know what to say to you, nor I I don't care to speak with you at all.

Ben. No? I'm sorry for that. But pray why are you so scornful?

Miss P. As long as one must not speak one's mind, one had better not speak at all, I think ; and truly I won't tell a lie for the matter.

Ben. Nay, you say true in that; it's but a folly to lie: for to speak one thing, and to think just the contrary way, is, as it were, to look one way, and to row

another. Now, for my part, d'ye see, I'm for carry

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