Mort. What's the Matter, Friend? Why fo angry?

Felt. Why, to be plain with your Honour, that Porter of yours is a Hangman-looking Dog; a griping, skinny Rafcal, and push'd the Door in my Face, because I would not daub his ugly Fift, forfooth.

Serj. Hark ye, Mafter; take Care what you fay you're before a Judge, do you fee me for you know the Penalty of infulting the Servant of a Perfon in his Lordship's high Station? Let me tell you Friend, 'tis Scandalum magnatum. Felt. Be what it will, Perfons in high Station fhould teach them better Manners then.

Mort. Upon what Provocation was all this? Felt. Provocation, an please you! no more than I give your Honour now--I only faid I had paid Scot and Lot, and gone thro' all the Offices of the Parish, as you in the Government; and wifh'd my Country perhaps as well as your Lordship. I hope a Body may fay fo much without Offence.

Serj. Item, Scandalum magnatum, in 'extremo.Offence with all my Heart! Why, can there be a greater than to fpeak irreverently of Publick, Minifters ?

Mort. Prithee, no more of this Impertinence, but to the Bufinefs.

Felt. I come, my Lord, in the Name of all my Fellow-Citizens, to demand Juftice, in behalf of a poor Man that was inveigled to give his Vote for 20 Marks; but the Purchafer not getting his Election, has fince thrown him in a Jail for't, which we think a very hard Cafe,

Mort. The Plaintiff's Name.

Felt. Sir Nettle Bribe vote, an please you.
Mort. Ha! fpeak again.

Felt. Why, Sir Nettle Bribevote, an please you. Mort. Know ft thou what thou fay'ft? He's a Friend of ours, and incapable of a bafe Action. Felt. Let him be whofe Friend he will, the

Action's lodg'd, and 'tis a fhame the poor Man thou'd be kept in hold any longer.

Mort. How now! do'ft thou prefume to direct

us?

Felt. Marry, fome People want Direction.
Mort. Infolence! be gone, or

Felt. I thought as much

[Exit grumbling.

Serj Come, my Lord, this beggarly Elf is beneath your notice.

Mort. He is fo

we'll lofe no time

vitation.

-therefore, my Lord, I accept of your In

Serj. Your Lordship does me inexpreffible Honour- Huzzy! you'll be fure to follow. [Exeunt. Maria. They are gone, and thank Heaven, I am once more delivered from the Brink of Deftruction- -fo, now let me gratify my Curiofity [Takes a Paper out of her Bofom and reads it.] Good Heaven! what do I fee! the very Scroll of Death-Directions in what manner to proceed againft Mountacute! -Be but propitious Stars, and I will make this Inftrument of Villany the Guide by which we fteer this almoft finking Bark thro' all the Rocks which threaten his Deftruction-it will bring me to his Bight-bleffed Accident!

And tho' my Fortune can't expect his Love,
My generous Care of him I must approve.

End of the third A C T.

ACT

A CT IV.

SCENE, MOUNTACUTE'S HOUSE.

Enter Mountacute and Holland.

MOUNTACUTE,

LL things move forward with a profperous

A Breeze,

And we fhall reach the Harbour of Succefs.
Sooner than we believ'd 'tis now in View:
Heav'n feems as if it took peculiar Care,
Promifing fafety to the Royal Caufe,
Infpires the King, who fteers the mighty Bark,
Keeping him fteady in his Refolution.

Sir Robt. Holl. 'Tis wonderful indeed; it fhews the Hand

Of Providence is with us: Never Prince
Was grac'd with fo much knowledge as young

Edward.

Confidering his Years, 'tis Wonderful.

He weighs with all the Gravity and Thought
Of an experienc'd Statefman what's propos'd,
Still as he speaks, the Accent of each Word
Keeps proper Time, and points to his Revenge.
Mount. His Ears are open to the Nation's groans:
He credits now the Bafenefs of the Queen
In the fupport of bafer Mortimer,

Who magnifies his Mifchiefs by fuccefs,
And thrives i'th' Eye of Heav'n.

Sir Robt. Holl. Tax not the Pow'rs above, lest we are forfaken:

They often fuffer what they don't approve.. Their Vengeance makes us know why we are punish'd:

Such Vifitations whet our Penitence

Create Reflections on the inward Caufe
For Confcience is the Mirror of our Souls,

Which reprefents the Errors of our Lives
In their full fhape.

Mount. But tell me, Friend, what Meffage is return'd

From Exeter and Berkley? Will they come ?
Or chufe they rather tamely to be noozed?

Sir Robt. Holl. Be not too rafh, for they are
Men of worth,

Do not believe, because they left the Court,
Retreating to their quiet rural Seats,

Where they might gorge the Vulture of their
Minds,

They're cold, or ftupid when their Honour calls.
No Mountacute, believe me, they have heard,
That in the Roll of Fame there yet remains
One Chance,one glorious Lot, that's worthy hazard,
Whereby the Kingdom's Fate may be retriev'd.
Rouz'd with the Summons, they have wing'd
their hafte,

Vying who fhall become the fecond Curtius.

Mount. Why, fo it was with Leicester, when firft I told the glorious Action new in hand: He, like fome Lion, almoft ftiff with Ease, Loffing at length within his antick Cave. Takes the Alarm of the Huntsman's found, At which he stretches out his well-grown Limbs; Bruftles his horrid Main, and furls his Tail; Stalks to the Field, and fwells to meet the Foe. Sir Rob. Hol. They meet this Night at Council, where they'll find

Matter prepar'd fufficient to infpire 'em.

Mount. All join the Nobles, Gentry and the
Commons:

The Chain is rivetted; the wrefty People,
Whofe Rights and Privileges are ufurp'd,
No longer fire, but all in Vaffalage,
Are ripe for Mischief, ready for Rebellion.
They wait from us the Signal when to dole
The Act of Juftice-wou'd the cry were up,
That I might fee thefe Manglers of the Realm
Drove to the Shambles, and expos'd as Beafts.

Enter

Enter Servant.

Serv. My Lord, a Gentlewoman waits to speak

with you.

Mount. Conduct her in

[Exit Servant.

[Exit.

Sir Robert Holl. I'll take my leaveat fix we

meet again.

Mount. I fhall not fail

Re-enter Servant with Maria.

Your Bus'nefs, Fair One?

Maria. When I fall tell the fubject of my Er

rand,

Perhaps it may deferve Attention;

But I must requeft your privacy.

[Nods to the Servant, who exits. Mount. You are obey'd--by Heaven a charming Creature! n

Now fpeak your Meafure, Madam.

Maria. I come, my Lord, a Suppliant from a
Maid,

Who for fome Years has ey'd your noble worth;
And tho' her Birth, nor Fortune can pretend
To merit that return, fhe long has figh'd for,
Yet fo her partial Deftiny has order'd,
She still admires your Perfon and your Virtues.
Mount. Well, my fair Suitrefs, whither does
this tend?

[Afide.
Maria. With filence hitherto fhe has concealed
The faucy Flame, oft ftrove to ftifle it;
Yet rather than her Folly fhould be known,
She let it prey upon the vital parts,

Hoping at laft 'twould end her hapless days,
And her ambitious Love dye unrevealed.
Mount. That was unkindly done, the could not
doubt Succefs,

When he had one fo fair to plead her Caufe.
Maria. The Difproportion is fo great between

ye,

That fhe muft ftill defpair, and ftill love on. Fortune has placed her, where you most abhor: Difeafes, Infamy, or Death itfelf,

You