_Jen._ But if he should kill you, Madam.
_Ran._ I'll take care to make it as comical a Duel as the best of 'em; as much in love as I am, I do not intend to die its Martyr.
Enter _Daring_ and _Fearless_.
_Fear._ Have you seen _Chrisante_ since the Fight?
_Dar._ Yes, but she is still the same, as nice and coy as Fortune when she's courted by the wretched; yet she denies me so obligingly, she keeps my Love still in its humble Calm.
_Ran._ Can you direct me, Sir, to one _Daring's_ Tent? [Sullenly.
_Dar._ One _Daring!_--he has another Epithet to his Name.
_Ran._ What's that, Rascal, or Coward?
_Dar._ Hah, which of thy Stars, young Man, has sent thee hither, to find that certain Fate they have decreed?
_Ran._ I know not what my Stars have decreed, but I shall be glad if they have ordain'd me to fight with _Daring_:--by thy concern thou shou'dst be he?
_Dar._ I am, prithee who art thou?
_Ran._ Thy Rival, though newly arrived from _England_, and came to marry fair _Chrisante_, whom thou hast ravish'd, for whom I hear another Lady dies.
_Dar._ Dies for me?
_Ran._ Therefore resign her fairly--or fight me fairly--
_Dar._ Come on, Sir--but hold--before I kill thee, prithee inform me who this dying Lady is?
_Ran._ Sir, I owe ye no Courtesy, and therefore will do you none by telling you--come, Sir, for _Chrisante_--draw.
[They offer to fight, _Fearless_ steps in.
_Fear._ Hold--what mad Frolick's this?--Sir, you fight for one you never saw [to _Ranter_.] and you for one that loves you not.
[To _Dar._
_Dar._ Perhaps she'll love him as little.
_Ran._ Gad, put it to the Trial, if you dare--if thou be'st generous, bring me to her, and whom she does neglect shall give the other place.
_Dar._ That's fair, put up thy Sword--I'll bring thee to her instantly.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III. A Tent.
Enter _Chrisante_ and _Surelove_.
_Chris._ I'm not so much afflicted for my Confinement, as I am that I cannot hear of _Friendly_.
_Sure._ Art not persecuted with _Daring_?
_Chris._ Not at all; though he tells me daily of his Passion, I rally him, and give him neither Hope nor Despair,--he's here.
Enter _Daring_, _Fear._ _Rant._ and _Jenny_.
_Dar._ Madam, the Complaisance I show in bringing you my Rival, will let you see how glad I am to oblige you every way.
_Ran._ I hope the Danger I have exposed my self to for the Honour of kissing your Hand, Madam, will render me something acceptable--here are my Credentials-- [Gives her a Letter.
_Chrisante_ reads.
Dear Creature, I have taken this Habit to free you from an impertinent Lover, and to secure the damn'd Rogue _Daring_ to my self: receive me as sent by Colonel _Surelove_ from _England_ to marry you--favour me--no more--
Yours, _Ranter_.
--Hah, _Ranter_? [Aside.] --Sir, you have too good a Character from my Cousin Colonel Surelove, not to receive my Welcome.
[Gives _Surelove_ the Letter.
_Ran._ Stand by, General-- [Pushes away _Daring_, looks big, and takes _Chrisante_ by the Hand, and kisses it.
_Dar._ 'Sdeath, Sir, there's room enough--at first sight so kind! Oh Youth, Youth and Impudence, what Temptations are you to Villanous Woman?
_Chris._ I confess, Sir, we Women do not love these rough fighting Fellows, they're always scaring us with one Broil or other.
_Dar._ Much good may it do you with your tame Coxcomb.
_Ran._ Well, Sir, then you yield the Prize?
_Dar._ Ay, Gad, were she an Angel, that can prefer such a callow Fop as thou before a Man--take her and domineer.
[They all laugh.
--'Sdeath, am I grown ridiculous?
_Fear._ Why hast thou not found the Jest? by Heaven, 'tis _Ranter_, 'tis she that loves you; carry on the humour.
[Aside.
Faith, Sir, if I were you, I wou'd devote my self to Madam _Ranter_.
_Chris._ Ay, she's the fittest Wife for you, she'll fit your Humour.
_Dar._ _Ranter_--Gad, I'd sooner marry a she-Bear, unless for a Penance for some horrid Sin; we should be eternally challenging one another to the Field, and ten to one she beats me there; or if I should escape there, she wou'd kill me with drinking.
_Ran._ Here's a Rogue--does your Country abound with such Ladies?
_Dar._ The Lord forbid, half a dozen wou'd ruin the Land, debauch all the Men, and scandalize all the Women.
_Fear._ No matter, she's rich.
_Dar._ Ay, that will make her insolent.