Mean while, without you half our Season's wasted. Before 'tis_ Lent _sufficiently we've fasted. No matter how our Op'ra Folks did fare, Too full a Stomach do's the Voice impair._ Nay, you your selves lost by't; for saunt'ring hither You're safe from all but Love, four Hours together. Some idle Sparks with dear damnd Stuff, call'd Wine, Got drunk by Eight, and perhaps sows'd by Nine, O'er Politicks and Smoke some rail'd some writ, The Wiser yawn'd, or nodded o'er their Wit. O'er Scandal, Tea, Cards, or dull am'rous Papers, The Ladies had the Spleen, the Beaux the Vapors. Some went among the Saints without Devotion; Nay more, 'tis fear'd went thro' a wicked Motion. But the kind Female Traders well may boast, When we're shut up, their Doors are open'd most. I dare engage, they, by the Vint'ners back'd, Wou'd raise a Fund, so they alone might act. With them 'tis ne'er Vacation, tho' we lose, The Courts shut up, they Chamber Practice use. Since therefore without Plays, tho' call'd a Curse, The Good grow bad, the Bad grow worse and worse, Show misled Zeal what Ills infest the Age, And truly to reform, support the_ British _Stage_. Dramatis Personæ. MEN. Sir _Harry Sprightly_. Mr._Mills_. Brigadier _Blenheim_, just return'd from the Army. Mr._Wilks_ Mr. _Nicknack_, a Beau-Merchant. Mr._Cibber_. _Major Bramble_, a factious old Fellow. Mr._Johnson._ Master _Totty_, a great Boy. Mr._Bullock_. _Knapsack_, an Attendant on the _Collonel_. Mr._Pinkethman_. _Shrimp_, Sir Harry's Valet. Mr._Norris_. WOMEN. Lady _Rodomont_. Mrs._Oldfield_. Lady _Toss-up_. Mrs._Porter_. Mrs. _Lovejoy_, Cousin to Lady _Rodomont_. Mrs._Bradshaw_. Mrs. _Flimsy_, Lady _Toss-up's_ Woman. Mrs._Saunders_. _Orange-Woman._ Mr. _Pack_. _Mercer, Manto-Maker, Sempstress, Toyman, India-Woman,_ and other Attendants. SCENE LONDON. In the Month of _December_. THE Fine Lady's Airs: OR, AN EQUIPAGE of LOVERS. ACT I. SCENE I. _Sir_ Harry _discover'd dressing; and_ Shrimp _attending_. Sir _Har_. Where had you been last Night, you drunken Dog, that you cou'dn't take care of me when I was drunk. _Shr_. I happen'd, Sir, to meet with some very honest Gentlemen, that have the Honour to wait upon other Gentlemen, where Wit and Humour brighten'd to that degree, we pass'd about the Glass, 'till we lost our Senses. Sir _Har_. Wit, you Rascal! Have you Scoundrels the impudence to suppose your selves reasonable Creatures? _Shr_. Sir, we are as much below Learning, indeed, as our Masters are above it; but why mayn't a Servant have as good natural Parts? Sir _Har_. Mend your Manners, Sirrah; or you shall serve the Queen.