to lofe as little of my kindness, as I can. I'll do good to no man against his will, certainly. When were you at the college?

Cler. What college?

Tru. A new foundation, Sir, here i' the town, of ladies, that call themfelves the collegiates; and give entertainment to all the wits, and braveries o' the time, as they call 'em: Cry down, or up, what they like or dislike in a brain or a fashion, with most masculine, or rather hermaphroditical authority; and every day gain to their college fome new probationer.

Cler. Who is the prefident?

Tru. The grave and youthful matron, the lady Haughty.

Cler. A plague of her autumnal face, her piec'd beauty: There's no man can be admitted till she be ready, now-a-days, till fhe has painted, and perfum❜d.

Tru. And a wife lady will keep a guard always. I once followed a rude fellow into a chamber where the poor madam, for hafte, and troubled, fnatch'd at her peruke, to cover her baldness, and put it on the wrong way.

Cler. Oh prodigy!

Tru. And the unconscionable knave held her in

compliment

compliment an hour with that revers'd face, when I ftill look'd when the fhould talk from the other

fide.

Cler. Why, thou shouldst have reliev'd her.

Tru. No faith, I let her alone; as we'll let this argument, if you please, and pass to another. When faw you Sir Dauphine Eugene?

Cler. Not these three days. Shall we go to him this morning? He is very melancholick, I hear.

Tru. Sick o' the uncle, is he? I met that ftiff piece of formality, his uncle, yesterday, with a huge turbant of night-caps on his head, buckled over his ears.

Cler. Oh, that's his cuftom when he walks abroad. He can endure no noise, man.

Tru. So I have heard. But is the disease so ridiculous in him as it is made? They fay he has been upon divers treaties with the fish-wives, and orange-women; and articles propounded between them: Marry, the chimney-fweepers will not be drawn in.

Cler. No, nor the broom-men: They ftand out ftifly. He cannot endure a costard-monger, he fwoons if he hear one.

Tru. Methinks a fmith fhould be ominous.

Gler. Or any hammer-man. A brazier is not

fuffered

fuffered to dwell in the parish, nor an armourer. He would have hang'd a pewterer's 'prentice once, for being o' that trade.

Tru. A trumpet would fright him terribly, or the hau'boys.

Cler. Out of his fenfes. The waights of the city have a pension of him not to come near that ward. This youth practis'd on him one night like the bellman, and never left till he had brought him down to the door, with a long fword: And there left him flourishing with the air. And, another time, a fencer, going to his prize, had his drum moft tragically run through, for taking that street in his way at my request.

Tru. A good wag! How does he for the bells?

Cler. Why, Sir, he hath chofen a street to live in, fo narrow at both ends, that it will receive no coaches, nor carts, nor any of thofe common noifes: And as for the bells, the frequency of ringing has made him devise a room, with double walls, and treble cielings; the windows clofe fhut and calk'd: And there he lives by candlelight. He turn'd away a man last week, for having a pair of new shoes that creak'd. And his fellow waits on him now in tennis-court focks, or flippers foal'd with wool: And they talk to each other in a trunk. See, who comes here!

Enter

Enter Dauphine.

Day. How now? what ail you, Sirs? dumb? Tru. Struck into ftone, almoft, I am here, with tales o' thine uncle! There was never fuch a prodigy heard of.

Dau. I would you would once lofe this fubject, my masters, for my fake. They are fuch as you are, that have brought me into that predicament I am with him.

Tru. How is that?

Dau. Marry, that he will difinherit me.

more.

No

He thinks I, and my company, are authors

of all the ridiculous ftories told of him.

Tru. 'Slife, I would be the author of more to vex him; that purpose deserves it: It gives the law of plaguing him. I'll tell thee what I would do. I would make a falfe almanack, get it printed; and then have him drawn out on a coronation-day to the Tower-wharf, and kill him with the noise of the ordnance. Difinherit thee! he cannot, man. Art not thou next of blood, and his fifter's fon?

Dau. Ay, but he will thrust me out of it, he vows, and marry.

Tru. How! can he endure no noife, and will venture on a wife?

Cler. Yes; why, thou art a stranger, it seems, to

his

his best trick, yet. He has employ'd a fellow this half year, all over England, to hearken him out a dumb woman; be fhe of any form, or any quality, fo fhe be able to bear children: Her filence is dowry enough, he says.

Tru. But I truft he has found none.

Cler. No; but he has heard of one that's lodg'd i' the next ftreet to him, who is exceedingly softfpoken; thrifty of her fpeech; that spends but fix words a-day; and her he's about now, and fhall have her.

Tru. Is't poffible? who is his agent i' the business? Cler. Marry, a barber; an honest fellow, one that tells Dauphine all here.

Tru. Why, you opprefs me with wonder! A woman, and a barber, and love no noife?

Cler. Yes, faith. The fellow trims him filently, and has not the fnap with his fheers or his fingers: And that continency in a barber he thinks fo eminent a virtue, as it has made him chief of his counfel.

Tru. Is the barber to be feen? or the wench? Cler. Yes, that they are.

Tru. I pr'ythee, Dauphine, let's go thither.

Dau. I have fome business now: I cannot i'faith.

Tru. You fall have no bufinefs fhall make

you neglect