The Stolen Heiress or, The Salamanca Doctor Outplotted   By: Susanna Centlivre (1667?-1723)

OR THE Salamanca Doctor Outplotted.

A COMEDY.

Drawn from:

THE WORKS OF THE CELEBRATED Mrs. CENTLIVRE.

VOLUME ONE

LONDON:

Printed for J. KNAPTON, C. HITCH and L. HAWES, J. and R. TONSON, S. CROWDER and Co. W. BATHOE, T. LOWNDS, T. CASLON, and G. KEARSLY.

M.DCC.LXI.

PROLOGUE.

Spoke by Mrs. PRINCE.

Our Author fearing his Success to Day, Sends me to bribe your Spleen against his Play, And if a Ghost in Nelly's Time cou'd sooth ye, He hopes in these that Flesh and Blood may move ye, Nay, what is more, to win your Hearts, a Maid! If ever such a Thing the Play house had. For Cold and Shade the waxen Blossom's born, Not to endure the Regions of the Sun, Let every Beau then his Applause begin, And think the Rarity was born for him: Your true bred Knights for fancy'd Dames advance, And think it Gallantry to break a Launce, And shall a real Damsel e'er be found To plead her Cause in vain on English Ground, Unless that dreadful Prophecy's begun, In which Seven Women are to share one Man! But thanks my Stars that Danger I disown, For in the Pit, I see 'tis one to one. And while the Fair can all their Rights enjoy, We'll keep our Title up to being Coy, So let your Praise be noisy as your Wine, And grant your Favours, if you'd purchase mine.

A SONG design'd to be sung by Mr. DOGGET.

The Man you Ladies ought to fear, Behold and see his Picture here. With Arms a cross, and down cast Eyes Thus languishes, and thus he dies, Then gives his Hat a careless Pull, Thus he sighs, and thus looks dull, Thus he ogles, thus he sneers, Thus he winks, and thus he lears. This, this is he alone can move, And this the Man the Ladies love.

THE

EPILOGUE.

Spoke by Mr. DOGGET.

You have seen what Scholar is in Cap and Gown, Before his Breeding's polish'd by this Town: 'Tis not enough, that he can Hebrew speak, Greek, Latin, Chaldeac, and Arabick; He may perform his Task in Church and School, Ne'er drop a Word, that is not Grammar Rule. Run through the Arts; can each Degree commence, Yet be a Freshman still, to Men of Sense. Tho' the learn'd Youth, can all the Sages quote, Has Homer, Hesiod, and the rest by Wrote; Yet what's all this to Picquet, Dress or Play? Or to the Circle, on a Visiting Day? A finish'd Beau; for such fine things I have seen, That heretofore, has of some College been: But that Despising, nothing now retains, } For Learning is a Thing requires Brains; } And that's a Perquisite the Gentleman disdains. } The Great Dull Ass, from breaking Head of Priscian; Hither he comes, and writes approv'd Physician. The Noise of Chariot brings the Patients in; Grant them Patience, that Physick for their Sin. Well then Since Learning's useless, I'll the Task defy; Practice to Ogle, Flatter, Swear and Lye; For that's the Way the Ladies Hearts to gain, Burn all my Books; my Studies are but vain: To gain their Looks, each Shape and Dress I'll try; Smile when they Smile; and when they Frown, I Die.

Dramatis Personæ.

MEN.