THE

PROVOKED WIFE.

ACT THE FIRST.

SCENE 1.

SIR JOHN BRUTE'S House.

Enter SIR JOHN.

Sir J. What cloying meat is love-when matrimony's the sauce to it! Two years marriage has debauched my five senses. Every thing I see, every thing I hear, every thing I feel, every thing I smell, and every thing I taste-methinks has wife in't.-No boy was ever so weary of his tutor, no girl of her bib, no nun of doing penance, or old maid of being chaste, as I am of being married. Sure there's a secret curse entailed upon the very name of wife. My lady is a young lady, a fine lady, a witty lady, a virtuous lady-and yet I hate her. There is but one thing on earth I loath beyond her-that's fighting. Would my courage come up to a fourth part of my illnature, I'd stand buff to her relations, and thrust her out of doors. But marriage has sunk me down to such an ebb of resolution, I dare not draw my sword, though even to get rid of my wife. But here she comes.

Enter LADY BRUTE

Lady B. Do you dine at home to-day, Sir John? Sir J. Why? do you expect I should tell you what I don't know myself?

Lady B. I thought there was no harm in asking you.

Sir J. If thinking wrong were an excuse for impertinence, women might be justified in most things they say or do.

Lady B. I'm sorry I have said any thing to displease

you.

Sir J. Sorrow--for things past, is of as little importance to me, as my dining at home or abroad ought to be to you.

Lady B. My inquiry was only that I might have provided what you liked.

Sir J. Six to four you had been in the wrong there again; for what I liked yesterday I don't like to-day, and what I like to-day, 'tis odds I mayn't like to-mor

row.

Lady B. But if I had asked you what you liked? Sir J. Why then there would be more asking about it than the thing is worth.

Lady B. I wish I did but know how I might please you.

Sir J. Ay, but that sort of knowledge is not a wife's talent.

Lady B. Whate'er my talent is, I'm sure my will has ever been to make you easy.

Sir J. If women were to have their wills, the world would be finely governed!

Lady B. What reason have I given you to use me as you do of late? It once was otherwise you married me for love.

Sir J. And you me for money: so you reward, and I have mine.

Lady B. What is it that disturbs you?

have

your

Sir J. A parson.

Lady B. Why, what has he done to you?

Sir J. He has married me, and be damned to him.

[Exit. Lady B. The devil's in the fellow, I think.- -I was told before I married him, that thus 'twould be: The surly puppy!-yet he's a fool for't: for hitherto he has been no monster: but who knows how far he may provoke me? Or who can tell-Perhaps a good part of what I suffer from my husband, may be a judgment upon me for my cruelty to my lover -But, hold-let me go no further-I think I have a right to alarm this surly brute of mine-but if I know my heart-it will never let me go so far as to injure him.

Enter BELINDA.

Good morrow, dear cousin.

Bel. Good morrow, madam, you look pleased this morning.

Lady B. I am so.

Bel. With what, pray?

Lady B. With my husband.

Bel. Drown husbands; for yours is a provoking fellow as he went out just now, I prayed him to tell me what time of day 'twas; and he asked me if I took him for the church clock, that was obliged to tell all the parish?

Lady B. He has been saying some good obliging things to me too. In short, Belinda, he has used me so barbarously of late, that I could almost resolve to play the downright wife-and cuckold him.

Bel. That would be downright indeed.

Lady B. Why, after all, there's more to be said for't than you'd imagine, child. He is the first aggressor, not I.

Bel. Ah, but you know we must return good for evil.

Lady B. That may be a mistake in the translation. -Pr'ythee, be of my opinion, Belinda; for I'm positive I'm in the right; and if you'll keep up the prerogative of a woman, you'll likewise be positive you are in the right, whenever you do any thing you have a mind to. But I shall play the fool, and jest on, till I make you begin to think I'm in earnest.

Bel. I shan't take the liberty, madam, to think of any thing that you desire to keep a secret from me. Lady B. Alas, my dear, I have no secrets. My heart could ne'er yet confine my tongue.

Bel. Your eyes, you mean; for I am sure I have seen them gadding, when your tongue has been locked up safe enough.

Lady B. My eyes gadding! Pr'ythee after who, child?

Bel. Why, after one that thinks you hate him, as much as I know you love him.

Lady B. Constant, you mean.

Bel. I do so.

Lady B. Lord, what should put such a thing into your head?

Bel. That which puts things into most people's heads, observation.

Lady B. Why, what have you observed, in the name of wonder?

Bel. I have observed you blush when you met him; force yourself away from him; and then be out of humour with ever thing about you: in a word, never was a poor creature so spurred on by desire, or so reined in with fear!

Lady B. How strong is fancy!

Bel. How weak is woman!

Lady B. Pr'ythee, niece, have a better opinion of your aunt's inclination.