SCENE I.—A STREET.

COME, Mr. Dawſon, own the truth;—is'nt there another Lady in the queſtion? does not ſome new flame withdraw your maſter's affections from my young Lady?

Some new flame!—poor ſoul!—my maſter and I are in love with a ſcore of miſtreſſes at a time: For inſtance, we admire one for her ſhape, another for her air, a third, for her teeth, a fourth, for her eyes, a fifth, for her complexion, a ſixth, for her wit, a ſeventh—

A ſeventh! I am out of all patience! does the blockhead know what he'd be at?

I was going to ſay that I admir'd a ſeventh for poſſeſſing all the charms of the other ſix,—and that her name is—

Is what?

My lovely and even adorable Kitty Spright⯑ly.

Plague take you for a flattering wretch! there is no believing one word in twenty you ſay;—now, I ſuppoſe you think I take all this for goſpel!

I do, upon my ſoul, or I ſhould not have ſaid it to you: the art of ſaying civil things, Kitty, is the true art of making ourſelves and other people happy [10]—I could ſpeak thus to the woman of my heart for ever—when I had exhauſted my fancy in praiſing her face, her perſon ſhould be my theme—I'd find out new charms in her delicate hand, her fine-turn'd arm, her beauteous neck and enchanting boſom;—for it has long been with me an eſtabliſhed maxim, that it is impoſſible a man can ſay or do too many civil things for a pretty woman.

I wiſh, civil ſir, you could prove that you poſſeſs'd as much ſecreſy as you do civility,—and I wou'd impart an affair, which hereafter may prove of no ſmall conſequence to your civil worſhip—

There's not a footman, Kitty, ſo remarkable for keeping a ſecret, from Tower hill to Hyde-park-corner: my talent in that way has obtain'd me the nick-name of Guy Vaux, and the Dark Lantern.

Being as much as to ſay, this fellow's only fit for blowing up a plot, tho' he loſes his life by it; however, I'll run all riſques, and repoſe a confidence in you. Can you gueſs what brought me here this morning?

Gueſs the cauſe, Kitty!

I think the cauſe is pretty ſtriking! Cauſes of much leſs attraction have drawn women a great way.

No, Mr. Dawſon, I came hither to ſpeak to you on another affair; and I hope you will anſwer me like a friend, an old fellow ſervant, and a gentleman.

My dear Kitty, you now ſpeak to me in ſo moving a ſtrain, that I muſt take you in my arms.

My poor miſtreſs is dying for love of your flinty-hearted maſter.

Lord, child! do you call that a ſecret!—I could have told you that.

Now I want to aſk you in confidence, and I beg you'll be ſerious: Do you think that your maſter's preſent coolneſs to my young lady is owing to his af⯑fections being engag'd in another place?

Not in my opinion, on the honor of a gen⯑tleman.

But how can you be ſure of that?

I was witneſs to a little circumſtance which puts the matter out of all queſtion, in my mind.

Tell it me, tell it me, dear Mr. Dawſon.

Why, as I was combing his hair yeſterday morning, I obſerv'd him take a miniature picture out of his waiſtcoat pocket, and look at it as if he could eat it with his eyes: judging it to be the likeneſs of ſome favourite Sultana, I ſlyly popp'd my head over his left ſhoulder, and whoſe do you think the picture was?

Nay, how ſhould I know?

Miſs Sophia's, you jade.

You don't ſay ſo!

But that's not all! Going out of the room, I left the door on a jar, from a habit I have of peeping and liſtening to every thing that paſſes in a family, and then did I ſee him ſit as good as an hour looking at and kiſſing the picture, for all the world as if Miſs Sophia herſelf had been there.

I wiſh from the bottom of my ſoul it had.

But Mr. Mineall coming up ſuddenly, he put the picture in his pocket again in ſuch a hurry as if he was afraid the very light of the ſun ſhould ſteal a kiſs from it.

Deuce take that Mineall, he's always ſpoiling ſport. But how could you be ſo ill-natur'd as to banter me in the manner you did at firſt about your ſeven miſ⯑treſſes and all ſuch impoſſible ſtuff?

Merely to keep my wit in play, to give a finer edge to my ſatirical vein. Wit, my girl, is like a ſword; if you wou'd make the world admire the beau⯑ty of your blade, you muſt throw away the ſcabbard; friend or foe muſt receive the wound, if you would ſhew its point: but a maſter's hand is neceſſary to diſ⯑play the high poliſh of your weapon, making it flaſh at every graceful turn, with the lightning's quickneſs and the diamond's brilliancy.

Bleſs me! how you do talk! ſee what it is to be brought up from one's youth with a gentleman [12]of great learning; I vow you have almoſt as much wit as your maſter.

You're wrong, Kitty; you ſhould have ſaid, that my maſter had almoſt as much wit as I; for if my quantum of wit was not double my maſter's, half my poverty would have been ſufficient to hide it.

Well; for the good news you have juſt told me, there's a guinea for you,

but it's all out of my own pocket; mind, I have no autho⯑rity from my miſtreſs.

'Sdeath! then I can't think of taking it;

Avaricious rogue! I ſee he won't part with it, ſo I'll teize him a bit.—Well, if you are ſo generous, I'll take my guinea back.

But then I was thinking, Kitty, your miſ⯑treſs will pay you again when you tell her the circum⯑ſtance.

Not ſhe, indeed; ſo, come, come, give it me again.

Zounds! how you hurry me! you hav'n't giv'n me time to look whether it's a George the Third, or an old Carolus;

it's very light, Kitty.

If you don't like it, why don't you return it?

What! and ſuffer you to loſe by it? No, no, my dear, I'll change it, and ſtand to the loſs, and if your miſtreſs refuſes to pay this ſmall diſburſement ad⯑vanc'd in her ſervice, on the honor of a gentleman, you ſhall have a guinea of ſuch unequivocal weight, that it ſhan't want the ſixteenth part of a ſcruple.

No, Dawſon; I give it up; if you have ſo many ſcruples about parting with a light guinea, I'm ſure you'll make no kind of ſcruple of with-holding from me a heavy one.

SCENE II.

I proteſt, Mr. Mineall, you ſtudents of law are delightfully ſituated here in the inner Temple;—what a charming ſhew of fine girls in the garden, and of wharfs, wherries, and coal barges on the water! Indeed, I think you are too pleaſantly ſituated to de⯑vote much of your attention to ſtudy; a roguiſh leer from a fine woman's eye under your window, would ſoon make you abandon the peruſal of the Statutes; there is no reſiſting her when ſhe chuſes to enforce the Habeas Corpus Act.

In my opinion, Sir, there cannot be too ma⯑ny agreeable objects to relax the mind after intenſe ſtudy.

You are wrong, Mr. Mineall;—I'd treat a young Lawyer as I would a young ſtarling; you can't put him in too dark a cage to make him talk well;—but now I look round this apartment, is it not con⯑founded extravagant to keep all theſe windows open? I have clos'd my garret windows entirely; have left but one open on the firſt and ſecond floor, and if it wasn't for ſhame, would be content with the light of a back parlour window.—Come, lads,

I'll give you a fine woman, one of the beſt editions of her ſex. Here's the widow Grampus.

Then, Uncle, you are ſeriouſly determin'd to marry her.

Seriouſly, George;—ſince your aunt's death, I have paſs'd the life of a hermit;—what are we born for, but ſociety? I want ſome one to fill out my tea of a morning; to preſs me to another ſlice at dinner, and play a game of backgammon with me of an after⯑noon: Theſe are the comforts of matrimony; but you are too young to have a notion of them yet.

And do you expect the widow will indulge you in all thoſe matrimonial comforts?

I know ſhe hates backgammon, becauſe wo⯑men of faſhion never play at it.

It's falſe, Sir; beſides, I'm ſure ſhe doats up⯑on me; ſhe has told me a hundred times, that I had wit at my fingers ends.

But that compliment, uncle Quarto, has loſt it's point, now you have left off book-ſelling.

You provoking puppy! what do you ſuppoſe I ſee in the blank margin of your fool's-cap counte⯑nance to make me put up with ſuch inſolence? Have you forgot, ſirrah, that I have treated you as my own child ſince you were the height of a Pope's Homer? have you forgot, you dog, that though you were brought up at Oxford, and are now a fine gentleman, that your grandfather was a Baker at Aberdeen, and never ſaw the alphabet but upon his own gingerbread? There's your brother Sandy too; when he heard of your exploit, he muſt needs have an itch for coming to England, and be damn'd to him; I ſhall never for⯑get the figure he cut the firſt time I ſaw him, with his broad accent, his long Scotch face, and ſuch a red head, that you might have lit a candle at his pole; and if I hadn't a regard for him as my ſiſter's ſon, I'd have ſent him trooping back to Scotland again: I had like to have loſt all my Engliſh cuſtomers by the vil⯑lain, for it's well known he was obliged to wear gloves the firſt three months he was in the ſhop.

I am exceedingly ſorry that a harmleſs ſally of imagination, ſhould have given ſo much offence where I owe nothing but the higheſt reſpect, and the warm⯑eſt gratitude. My objection, Sir, is not to your mar⯑rying, but to the object of your choice: Dear uncle, isn't ſhe rather too old for you.

Old, George! ha! ha! ha! why to be ſure, George, a man of my figure and conſtitution might have ſhot at younger game: but there has been a tendre between us for theſe ſome years paſt; when I was in buſineſs, ſhe us'd to call me the learned Ariſ⯑tarchus of Pater-noſter-row, and I called her the di⯑vine Sappho of Watling-ſtreet:

I am ſorry, friend Mineall, I muſt leave you ſo ſoon, but when a lady is in the caſe—

And ſo accompliſhed as the Widow Gram⯑pus, every thing muſt yield to her.

She expects a great philoſopher to viſit her this afternoon, an Egyptian I underſtand by birth, who has diſcovered a wonderful pickle, in which whatever i [...] immerg'd contracts the properties of a ſalamander, and will never afterwards conſume in fire.

And no doubt, Sir, your gallantry has in⯑duc'd you to ſolicit the honor of being the firſt Engliſh ſalamander pickled for the experiment?

No, faith, I have no ambition to be a pick⯑led ſalamander, though I ſhould like to ſee the diſco⯑very brought to perfection for the honor of my Coun⯑try. France has juſt obtained the dominion of the air; England, for centuries, has had the ſov'reignty of the ſeas; the only element we want the command of now is fire, to make the records of Engliſh glory immortal.

What's to be done Frank? if he ſhould marry this woman, ſhe'll diſſipate both his fortune and her own, on the ridiculous ſchemes of needy projectors. He hasn't ſettled a ſhilling on me yet.

Your ſervant Dawſon I think ſpeaks French?

Extraordinary well; but what then?

A thought has come into my head, by which I think I ſhall be able to break off your Uncle's mar⯑riage with Mrs. Grampus; there is a German Baron of the name of Bubble Bergen, a great virtuoſo at Vien⯑na, with whom her Brother Scrip conſtantly corre⯑ſponds, being as Balloon-mad as himſelf, but never has ſeen him. Suppoſe we make Dawſon perſonate this philoſophical Foreigner; Scrip will receive him with open arms, and as the dog has at leaſt the recom⯑mendation of youth upon his ſide. I'll ſtake my exiſt⯑ence, if he lays ſiege properly to the widow, he car⯑ries the fort from your Uncle.

I muſt acknowledge your plan is ſenſible: every day's experience ſhews us to what lengths elder⯑ly [16]ladies will go, to indulge the heart in all its parti⯑alities.

But I'll not ſtop here to ſerve you, George: if I can bring my project completely to bear, I ſhall reduce your Uncle to ſuch a predicament as to extort a proper ſettlement for you.

His not doing that is the reaſon I have diſcon⯑tinued my viſits to Miſs Harland: I could not bear the thoughts of her ſuppoſing I harbour'd a deſign upon her fortune, and circumſtanc'd as I am now, may ſhe not think ſo? the nicely-feeling heart foregoes the very happineſs it ſeeks, rather than enjoy it upon terms which bear the appearance of diſhonour.

There's a young woman, Sir, at the door de⯑ſires to ſpeak with you.

Then I'll go; but I hope nothing will prevent our ſupping together.

Depend upon meeting me at half paſt nine at the Grecian.

What game has Fortune ſprung for me! Oh, here ſhe comes.

A charming wench, by Jupiter! ſit down, my love—I was juſt wiſhing for you the moment you came in

You don't ſay ſo, Sir.

I was by thoſe ſoft rolling azure twinklers—

How you Gentlemen do like to flatter us poor Girls: But to what I come about, you muſt know, Sir, I am a Servant in Mr. Scrip's family, the great ſtock-broker, I ſuppoſe you know him?

Know him! he's my intimate friend.

See what that is; he told me as much I aſ⯑ſure you and moreover and above, he told me beſides it I made uſe of his name, (he's an old gentleman, [17]Sir, and knows nothing of the matter himſelf) that you'd undertake to do a little buſineſs for me.

That I will, my dear girl, as ſoon as ever you pleaſe.

There's above forty pounds ſterling coming to me, wages due to my poor father, who was killed laſt war aboard the Rattle Snake, and I can't get a farthing of it.

Your father's wages, I'll put you in a certain way of obtaining immediately. In the mean time, my ſweet girl—

Mr. Parchment, the Conveyancer, Sir.

Dam'me, I wiſh yon were both conveyed out of the window. Why didn't you ſay I wasn't at home?

He has ſome great buſineſs, Sir, for you to do.

You ſhould have told him I had my hands full. Confound theſe chambers, they're as public as Weſtminſter-Hall in Term time. Shew him into the ſtudy.

Can't you meet me any where elſe, my love?

I dar'n't Sir, I ſhall loſe my character.

S'death and [...]ire! this wench has gain'd ſuch hold of me, I can't part with her

I have it; I'll give her a letter to Mrs. Modeley, the Millener, in Bond-Street, who ſhall artfully detain her at her houſe, till I am able to go and ſee her in the evening. Will you, my dear, ſit down, whilſt I write a letter I want to give you?

Oh to be ſure, Sir,

I think he's as comely a man as ever I ſaw, only inclined to be a little ruddiſh, or ſo. Well, I'm ſure its very good of him, to offer to take my little affair i [...] hands ſo readily.

Sure that can't be his picture over the door in a clergyman's band, and big wig. So pretty a face peeping through that great white [...] of a wig, look [...] for all the [18]world like a peach growing out of a ſnow-ball. But I hope, Sir, your letter is almoſt wrote, for I'm rather in haſte.

Yes, my dear, here it is; you know Bond-Street?

Very well, Sir.

Enquire for Mrs. Modeley and Co. the great Milliners in that ſtreet, and deliver this letter into Mrs. Modeley's own hands, from Mr. Mineall, of the Temple.

Muſt I wait for an anſwer?

Certainly.

I hope your honor isn't going to aſk for your fee?

Yes, but I am. I never fuſſer my fair clients to go away without paying me.

I never thought that it was ſo pleaſant to go to law before,

but, Sir, Sir, I for⯑got to aſk you whether this letter is wrote to get me what's due to my father?

No, my dear, that letter was wrote to get you ſomething that's due to yourſelf.

SCENE III.

I think I could make a deviliſh good bargain for myſelf, and do my Country at the ſame time eſſential ſervice. (muſes) Let me ſee, let me ſee; fourteen firſt-rate balloons, each carrying twelve canonades, ten bombs, and four and twenty two and forty pounders. Ay! fourteen would do it. Suppoſe I undertake to contract with Government for paying off the national debt, on condition that they grant me and my heirs for ever, an excluſive patent for the bombardment of Algiers. The King of Spain would pay me treble the ſum for the buſineſs. But then ſuppoſe the King of Spain ſhou'd break his word with me, a thing not uncom⯑mon, [19]when crown'd heads find it their intereſt ſo to do, how am I to compel the King of Spain to pay me? Dam'me, if I undertake the buſineſs, unleſs he gives me a mortgage on Peru or Mexico; then there are two other dev'liſh good contracts I might make, to ſupply farmers with rain, and confectioners with ice, all the year round. Beſides I can now ſet the game laws at defiance; no man can prove his title to a manor in the clouds; but ſoftly, ſoftly; hav'n't we got a Chief Juſtice in Air? ecod, I believe he can take cognizance of theſe matters. I muſt be very cauti⯑ous how I [...]ceed, 'till I know how high up his ju⯑riſdiction extends. I muſt take care to be quite out of ſight of the earth, before I attempt to purſue a hare, or meddle with veniſon. It would vex a man confoundly at my time of life to be ſtrung up for dear ſtealing in the clouds. Here comes my ſiſter Gram⯑pus; I'll conſult her on the ſubject.

I am ſtill, brother, of opinion, that bo⯑dies of a globular and rotund form are better calculat⯑ed for celerity of motion than the cylindrical.

Upon that point, ſiſter, we muſt ever diſa⯑gree. Will you attempt to perſuade me, that bodies of a rotund and globular form like your own are ſo well calculated for celerity of motion, as a ſmart, Cylinder like me?

I meant that ſuch bodies poſſeſt more celerity of motion in aſcending.

But you ſhould have ſaid in deſcending: for inſtance, ſiſter, is there a Balloon in France or Eng⯑land wou'd take your weight up? though yes, I think a well conſtructed Montgolfier might take you up by way of ballaſt.

I beg, brother, you'd let me explain the matter; do but examine this drawing—

And his ſervant Dawſon told you this ſtory?

Mr. Dawſon himſelf ma'am, and I gave him the guinea according to your deſire.

Then perhaps it was the money made him invent this ſtory of the picture, in hopes to get more, by tales of the ſame complexion.

Not at all, ma'am; I pump'd the ſtory out of him, before I gave him a ſhilling, and then I made him believe it was all out of my own pocket.

You're a good girl, Kitty, but I can't ſpare you this evening to go with Mr. Mineall's letter.

I don't know who in the family I can ſend with it; every ſoul's employed about the Balloon, ex⯑cept old Agnes, your ladyſhip's nurſe.

Then you muſt give her the letter.

It's very well, I will, ma'am; and I'll give her at the ſame time charge enough to take care of it.

If this ſtory Kitty has juſt told me be true, all his extraordinary conduct has been from too much delicacy; I know his uncle to be his ſole dependance, and perhaps he fears the old Gentleman's marriage may deprive him of that proviſion, the expectation of which once made him conſider himſelf my equal in regard to fortune. I could almoſt find in my heart to be angry with him. Poor George! inſenſible muſt that heart be, that would not ſacrifice fortune to love!—

I ſhall ſtick to the Globular.

And I ſhall ſtick to the Cylinder, but Sophy ſhall decide between us.

With all my heart! Miſs Harland ſhall be judge—

Obſerve this circular figure.

Do you mark this horizontal tube?

If both ſpeak at a time, it will be im⯑poſſible for me to attend to either.

Why look'e there, ſhe gives it againſt you already, you won't let me ſpeak.

Was ever any thing ſo provoking! have not I as good a right to ſpeak firſt as you?

Why, yes, Siſter, I think you have the right of Seniority.

I'll not ſleep another night in your houſe.

Then ſhall my family ſleep the ſounder: you may quit my houſe when you will—Off at a moment's warning, you and your Balloon together.

But I will convince Miſs Harland be⯑fore I go.—

Dear madam, I beg you will not treat me with any kind of ceremony.

If the weight of the atmoſphere—

Weight of the atmoſphere!—fiddle-de-dee—I ſay the power of gravity.

I am ſure I muſt poſſeſs an uncommon ſhare of the power of gravity to keep my countenance; I earneſtly requeſt you wou'd chooſe ſome other um⯑pire to determine this diſpute. Were I to liſten to you all day, my poor capacity wou'd not enable me to ſettle the difference, I perceive ſo equal a ſhare of reaſon on both ſides.

There's no occaſion; I ſhall go up ſtairs without ceremony.

Here comes your lover, Quarto; I'll leave it to him.

With all my heart; and you yourſelf ſhall put the queſtion to him.

My dear friend, Quarto, I rejoice to ſee you.

Love has given you a new binding and title page; you look as roſy as Tur⯑key [22]leather: but, without farther preface, which bo⯑dy do you think beſt calculated for celerity of motion, a globe or a cylinder?

A globe, or a cylinder?—the cylinder, to be ſure.

And that's your opinion?

By all means.

Now for it.

So you think ſo?

And don't you think ſo too?

No, I don't. Why, you ſtupid, old coxcomb, is the gaz of your underſtanding entirely evaporated? do you poſſeſs ſo little ſcience and reaſon as to maintain that a cylinder is a better ſhape for a balloon than a globe?

Oh! it was for a bal⯑loon you meant all this time; that alters the caſe en⯑tirely: no, my dear madam, nothing can beat the globe for a balloon; I would not venture up in a bal⯑loon of any other ſhape for all the gold in the Ex⯑chequer.

Mighty well, old Turnabout, I'll ſweat you for this: well, there's an end of it. Like three parts of the world, without being convinc'd, I am obliged to be ſatisfied: but what's that you hinted of your not chuſing to venture up in a balloon of any other ſhape?

Not for the world.

But you wou'd have no kind of objection to aſcend in one conſtructed upon my ſiſter's principles.

Objection! no, not abſolutely objection; that is to ſay, if Mrs Grampus requeſted me to accom⯑pany her.

Dear Mr. Quarto, do not increaſe my chagrin by your gallant offer; I muſt defer my curio⯑ſity till the invention is brought to more maturity.

Her weight won't do: ſhe broke the galleries of five balloons already, but we never cou'd raiſe her above the garden wall; now, you're the very dandy for a voyage in the air.

The devil I am! Sure ſhe won't be ſo unreaſonable as to expect me to go.

Why you're as light as a man made of cork; you'll go up like a rocket! I don't believe you weigh a dozen cock ſparrows!

Conſider the high fame it will give you; it will make you live after you're dead!

But I am one of thoſe who like to live all the days of my life: beſides, if I ſhou'd be ſeized with a fit of the gout!

Where could you find an eaſier chair than a balloon?

Then I am very ſhort-winded; terribly afflicted with the aſthma.

Nothing ſo good for you as the pure air of the upper regions; it will clear your pipes, and give you lungs like the bellows of an organ.

It will be an organ confoundedly out of tune.

But come along; let us ſhew you your fly⯑ing car; it lies at anchor now off the pigeon-houſe.

Oh, that it were caſt away in the horſe-pond! but zounds, my principal objection to going up is want of company; I ſhou'dn't mind it a button, if I had a couple of friends with me.

A couple of friends! why, did you ſuppoſe we were ſuch ſavages as to ſend you up quite alone?—no, man; Nicolini, our fine, large, black tom cat, ſhall go with you.

And my ſweet little ſhock ſpaniel, Nero.

Oh, damn your little Nero! you have the heart of Nero, or you wou'd not preſs me to this undertaking.

How I ſhall envy you when I ſee you above!

And how I ſhall envy you when I ſee you below!

SCENE I.—A GARDEN.

I Only wiſh'd to aſk you for my picture.

I don't know any thing elſe I could have de⯑nied you.

But what ſignifies keeping the likeneſs, when you ſet ſo little value on the original?

So little value! By every hope I have of hap⯑pineſs, there is nothing upon earth ſo truly valuable and precious to me: but how muſt you interpret the addreſſes of a man with no certainty of fortune? My uncle is on the point of marriage; to be ſure, at pre⯑ſent the world conſiders me his heir: but who can foreſee the influence a wife may have on him?

True happineſs, George, does not de⯑pend upon immenſe fortune; where there is a ſuffici⯑ent competency, what matter on which ſide it is?

My generous Sophia! what ſhall I ſay to you? whilſt the charms of your perſon fill my boſom with new delight every moment I behold you; the great⯑neſs of your mind breaks forth with ſuperior luſtre, as if jealous of thoſe external beauties which firſt won my admiration.

Your friend Mineall ſeems zealouſly inte⯑reſted for you.

I have already told you of his plan for breaking off my uncle's marriage with Mrs. Grampus: he is now dreſſing up Dawſon, as a German Baron, and giv⯑ing him every neceſſary inſtruction for performing his part with propriety.

As the Baron is ſuppoſed to come from Vienna, I don't think it would be a bad hint to make him profeſs himſelf an admirer of antiquated beauty only; and in the true ſpirit of German gallantry, look [25]more for wrinkles than dimples in the countenance of a miſtreſs; I obſerve that there are no characters ſo open to the groſſeſt flattery as your learned ladies, eſ⯑pecially when the incenſe is offered them by a youth⯑ful Corydon.

An excellent thought! I'll tell Dawſon of it, and he does not want underſtanding to improve the hint.

Your plan is deficient in one particular; your Baron ſhould have brought a balloon with him, and perſuaded the widow he travelled from Germany in it.

My uncle was in ſo great a hurry to be married, we had not time to provide the balloon.

And I fancy the widow will be ſo much of his opinion, that you will have no occaſion for it.

SCENE II. A Library. SCRIP, QUARTO, MINEALL, and Mrs. GRAMPUS. Quarto furniſhed with a huge fur Cap, and a thread-bare Surtout Coat.

As he ſaid that he had a great inclination to ſleep when he got up high in the air, I have furniſh'd myſelf with a good warm night-cap.

Are you mad? if you give way to the drow⯑ſineſs which you will certainly find come over you it will be inſtant death.

Oh lord, oh lord, oh lord!

You never will wake again.

Wake again!—I don't think I'm awake at preſent, all ſeems a dream to me.

—But friend Quar⯑to, your great coat ſeems to partake of the quality of your night-cap, it has a very ſleepy appearance.

But why a ſleepy appearance, Maſter Scrip?

Becauſe I don't think it has had a nap theſe ſeven years. But, how far do you intend to go?

Ay! how far do you intend to go?

That's a grand point.

Why, I was thinking when I had got as far as Highgate, it wou'd be a pretty little voyage; then I cou'd ſtop at the Horns, and take a little refreſhment to revive my old heart.

What, go no farther than Highgate.

I pique myſelf upon your pitching at leaſt as far as Ware, in Hertfordſhire.

You pique yourſelf upon my pitching as far as Ware, in Hertfordſhire? Dam'me, if you wou'dn't amongſt you pique and pitch me to the Peak of old Nick in Derbyſhire; but where are my bold aeronauts, the companions, the partners of my voyage?

Nero is ready at a moment's warning.

And I'll anſwer for't, my whiſker'd friend, Tom Nicolini, ſhall be forth coming.

Is my ballaſt lighter than it was, and the roaſt gooſe ſtow'd ſafe in the balloon?

It is, my friend.

Get me ſome Holland's gin.

You ſhall have two bottles; it is a cordial ſpirit, and will much help you in the paſſage.

And I'll provide the Holland's gin my⯑ſelf.

A better judge I know not.

And I'll go and attend the filling the balloon.

Now we're alone, I've a ſecret charge to give you.

Charge me no more, I'm overcharg'd al⯑ready.

A ſquib!—a cracker!—a flaſh in the pan!—the ſpark of a rocket!—the train of a mine, to the grand plan I have to communicate; a plan that will make my name as immortal as Iſabella's of Caſtile, and your's, as that of the daring Columbus—Do you know what time of the moon it is?

Why, if I were to judge by your converſa⯑tion, I ſhou'd ſuppoſe it were at the full.

It was new moon yeſterday; the creſcent will be viſible this fine clear day about ſix o'clock in the evening; the general rate of balloon travelling is at about thirty miles an hour; the height of our at⯑moſphere is juſt ſixty miles, and the devil's in it if the moon's atmoſphere can be greater; the entire jour⯑ney, making every allowance, cannot exceed one hun⯑dred and twenty miles. Why not undertake it! it is no more than going to Bath; you'll perform it in four hours, and when at your journey's end, you have no more to do, but tie a rope in a ſlip knot, chuck it up⯑on the horns of the moon, and dangle there but one half hour, dam'me, if you won't have half the world gazing at you.

So, it's to the horns of the Moon you want me to travel? I thought there was ſomething ominous in the wind, when you objected to my ſtopping at the Horns at Highgate.

But that's not all! admitting (which is a moral certainty) that you meet a hoſpitable reception from your friends in the moon, I dare ſay you'll meet a great many friends there; lay in a freſh ſtock of proviſions, and take a tour all round the firmament. You may firſt viſit that moſt beautiful planet, Venus; and by the moſt eaſy tranſit in the world, proceed next to Mercury; I'd make intereſt with Jupiter to obtain his ſatellites, by way of guards, whilſt I was on my travels; and if I ſaw a convenient opportunity, I'd ſteal Saturn's ring for the Britiſh Muſeum.

But I was thinking, all the time you were ſpeaking, what I ſhould do for ſtraw to burn.

For ſtraw to burn! For ſtraw to burn!—You have heard of the ſky farmers, cou'dn't they ſupply you?—I have it; you ſhall take ſtraw enough with you to go to the moon, and back again; and when you are in the moon, you may ſpeak to the man of it, to hire Charles's wain for you, and thus perform all the journey I have chalk⯑ed out for you in a waggon.

A deviliſh good thought; beſides, if a wag⯑gon is the only conveyance from ſtar to ſtar, who knows but I may get a penſion for introducing ſtage coaches?

Like enough; you're not the firſt projector who has had a penſion in the clouds.

Dear Sir! your philoſophic friend from Vi⯑enna, the celebrated Baron Bubblebergen is juſt arriv⯑ed, and eagerly enquires for you.

What, my friend that I never ſaw yet, though we have ſo long maintained a ſcientific cor⯑reſpondence?

The ſame; it ſeems the information you ſent him of your balloon, has ſo wrought on his inquiſitive ſpirit, that he quitted his own country on purpoſe to go up in it.

Huzza! A reprieve! A reprieve!

A reprieve! What do you mean? You know the balloon will take no more than one perſon.

I know that; but as the baron is a ſtranger; I think it the height of good breeding to give him the firſt place in it. He is waiting for you.—I'll not go up up until I hear his opinion on the matter.

I'll wait on him this moment; and luckily, I have my balloon hat, my balloon ſack, and my balloon apron on.

Come away, my little Quarto;—up we go, is the word.

Up we go! I rather fear down we go, is the world.

Dear Frank, how do we proceed?

Like heroes in the boſom of victory—But go you inſtantly, and charge me a caſe of piſtols with powder, mind you put nothing but powder in them.

A caſe of piſtols charged with nothing but powder; what can you poſſibly want with them?

To fight a duel; there is not a moment to be loſt; therefore, do what I deſire, without aſking another queſtion. Leave every thing to that zeal you know I have for your intereſt.

Now, if the old bookſeller has but ſpunk enough about him to become jealous; what between that paſſion, and the more prevalent one of intereſt, I think he may be worked up to ſend the baron a chal⯑lenge, as the laſt expiring ſtruggle to regain his miſ⯑treſs.

Though, hang it; no, no, what can make a bookſeller fight? Not all the treatiſes in Pater-noſter-Row.

Let me ſee; let me ſee; I have hit the mark; the Egyptian philoſopher, of whom he told me! I will make him put on an inſide waiſtcoat, and perſuade him it has been ſteeped in that great man's pickle until it became proof to the fire of a muſquet bullet. Ay! zounds, we'll make a pickled ſalamander of him.

Lord Sir, what were you ſaying about a ſa⯑lamander?

I was ſaying, my dear, that if ſuch a crea⯑ture ever exiſted, it muſt have been at a vaſt diſtance from ſuch a pair of eyes as you poſſeſs. But you ſur⯑prize me! What anſwer have you brought to my let⯑ter, from Mrs. Modeley?

I hope your honour won't be angry; but I proteſt it wasn't in my power to go with it.

Well! and what have you done with my letter?

Oh! I have ſent it by a ſafe hand.

Then you have ſent it by another?

Ye [...], to be ſure! I wou'dn't diſappoint you for the world—Old Agnes, my young Lady's nurſe, has taken it; and you cou'dn't have choſe a more proper perſon for your purpoſe.

So old Agnes the nurſe has taken it?

Lord, Sir, yes—what ſignifies who took the letter, ſo the letter was taken?—What you wanted me [30]to do, for ought I can ſee to the contrary, an old wo⯑man might have done as well as a young one.

So old Agnes the nurſe has taken it? If this ſtory becomes public, I ſhall be finely laughed at.

The whole family's in ſuch confuſion about the balloon, that's to go off this evening, I cannot meet a ſoul to give me a direct anſwer.

I'll aſk this gentleman. Pray Sir, can you tell me if Mr. Mineall is in the houſe?

Yes! my name is Mineall;—have you any thing to ſay to me?

I have a little bill to deliver you, from Mrs. Modeley, the Millener, in Bond-ſtreet.

A little bill! you muſt be miſtaken—I don't owe Mrs. Modeley any thing.

It's for things for the Lady, you ſent with the letter to her.—You deſired in it, ſhe ſhould be indulg⯑ed with any thing ſhe might take a fancy to.

Oh, It's for things for the lady I ſent to her? mighty well!

‘Silk cloak! gauze! Mecklinburgh lace! ſtockings, ſix balloon caps! two hats, ditto—ſum total, fif⯑teen pounds, three ſhillings and ſix pence’—a pretty morning's frolic I muſt confeſs! but it's no mat⯑ter, I very richly deſerve it.

I hav'n't ſo much in my pocket; I'll go bor⯑row what I want of George:—come this way, if you pleaſe, and I'll pay you.

Come this way, and I'll pay you.

But ſhe wants a Bill paid upon ſight.

Upon ſight!—well, upon ſight let it be;—but, Mr. Mineall, Mr. Mineall, how can you be ſo unconſcionable to keep all theſe pretty rogues to your⯑ſelf; cou'dn't you ſpare one to a diſtreſt friend?

I aſſure you, ſir, I can very well ſpare the one whoſe bill the perſon you ſee here has brought me.

Is ſhe very pretty?

Can you aſk that queſtion, when I am going to pay money for her?

Egad I have a great mind to take her off your hands;—but then ſhe may be too young, and when that's the caſe, they are generally mere hoydens or ſimpletons.

This lady is not too young, I give you my word.

Then you think ſhe has got all her eye-teeth about her?

No faith, I don't think ſhe has.

Give me your hand, and give me the bill at the ſame time.

I'll pay it on condition you let me viſit her in your ſtead.

And this good woman ſhall conduct you to her immediately.

Where is ſhe?—for I burn with impatience to ſee her.

Not a hundred yards off—here at Mrs. Mode⯑ley's, the Millener's, in Bond-ſtreet.

Come along, my dear,—this way, and I'll pay the bill upon ſight for you.

SCENE III.

The taſte for more ripen'd female beau⯑ty which prevails at Vienna, Baron, has been long ſince made known to the Ladies of England; it is recorded in the epiſtolary annals of a celebrated writer of our ſex, whoſe noble impatience for knowledge led her even into the receſſes of the Grand Signior's palace.

Sur l'honneur d'un Baron, Madam, a man de qualité at Vienna, cannot endure les petites demoi⯑ſelles [32]—fat you call de green girl, or de boarding-ſchool miſs; mais, Madam, a votre age, touts les feus de Cupidon, all de fires of love brullent en perfection, et ſcorch a de heart vid hot blaze: Par example, re⯑gardez la roſe; mark von roſe in de garden! ven it is von petit bouton it be no eſtemé, mais quand la roſe ſpread les grande feuilles, da [...] is, ven de roſe be old enough, we pluck de roſe, and put it, by gar, in de boſom.

Do we not obſerve the ſame rule in re⯑gard to every thing elſe beautiful, or delicious in the productions of nature? Who will pluck the peach from its wall-ſupported ſtock, 'till the mellowing hand of time has brought the down upon its cheek?

Ah, ma belle ange! you be von quite ripe peach, you ave de down upon de cheek.

What a perceptible difference between the addreſſes of a youth of faſhion and a ſuperannu⯑ated bookſeller!

Mais, Madame, permittes moi

ſur mes genoux, ſuffer me, upon my knees, to ſollicit von pretty hand.

I beſeech you, my Lord, to riſe, I can⯑not liſten to you in that degrading poſture.

Den me vil get up: me vil do every ting which me be command by Madam Grand Puſs.

Oh, heav'ns! how the barbarous ſound of my own name ſhocks my ear! I do not know that name I would not change it for.

Et bien, Madame: comment trouves, vous mon nom? how you like my name?—Baron Bubble⯑bergen!

Bubblebergen! How trippingly it goes off the tongue, as Shakeſpear has it.

C'eſt vrais, Je ſuis—me be von Foreigner. Eh, bien, n'eſt pas l'empereur; is not de Emperor of Germany de ſame? Suppoſe now von minu [...] l'Empe⯑reur come to England, and ſay Madame Grand Puſs, me be very much in love, vil you marry me? Mon⯑ſieur [33]l'Empereur you ſay, go bout your buſineſs back to Germany, me vil not marry von foreigneur.

How forcibly he reaſons! I hope, Sir, you do not think ſo meanly of my underſtanding, as to ſuppoſe me influenced in my judgment of men, by the climates in which they drew their firſt breaths. Who can ſelect the regions of their nativity? Your lot might have been my own, had fortune will'd it ſo:—Born on the banks of the Shannon, I had been Iriſh, beyond the Tweed, I had been Scotch, but doom'd in Thames-ſtreet firſt to ſee the light, the world pro⯑nounce me Engliſh.

Apres cette declaration, Madam, after dis confeſſion, me vil kiſs a your hand, as one earneſt of your heart.

But what will the world ſay to ſo haſty an eſpouſals?

Say!—why the world will ſay, that you're more deceitful than a crocodile;—is it thus at laſt that you reward your old, your learned friend, as you called me?

When I look in her face, all my former tenderneſs returns. What pleaſure it gave me to mark her gradual pro⯑greſs in Engliſh grammar, which I firſt put into her hand! little did I think if ſhe became an adjective, ſhe would ever be coupled with any ſubſtantive but myſelf.

Really, Mr. Quarto, you aſtoniſh me; how have I merited this virulence of invective? no⯑thing that I recollect has ever paſſed between us, but what was ſtrictly within the bounds of Platonic friendſhip.

Monſieur Quarto, reſpondes moi, anſwer me von little queſtion.

Ay, and one big queſton, Mr. Mounſieur.

Connoiſſes vous, qui Je ſuis? Do you know who I am?

They tell me you're a German Baron.

Eh, bien! tant mieux—now monſieur will you be ſo good to tell me who you are?

An Engliſhman! and therefore as good as any baron in Europe!

There begar, it be again tant mieux!

Tom Mew! don't call me Tom Mew, Mr. Baron, I won't put up with it: I ſuppoſe you call me Tom Mew, becauſe I was going to take up the tom cat with me in the balloon; but I won't go up in it now; I'll neither break my heart nor my neck for that lady: but harkee, Mr. Baron, I ſhall ſend a friend to you preſently that ſhall make you underſtand me; ay—dam'me if I don't—Tom Mew!

Il eſt bien faché—he be very anger; he vil certainment ſend me von challenge.

Not he, poor old creature; he's as ſpi⯑ritleſs as a modern pamphlet, but let us follow him; I think I ſtill poſſeſs ſufficient influence to prevail on him to aſcend in the balloon.

Mort de ma vie! Do not aſk him, me vil mount pour votre ſatisfaction.

What, and riſque your precious life! I will not hear it; better a dozen bookſellers ſhould break their necks: you muſt defer your gratification as well as myſelf; but if he comes down ſafe, who knows but you and I may have the pleaſure of aſcend⯑ing in the ſame balloon together?

Remember your chal⯑lenge, your adverſary's on the ground; I hope you have ſecured Scrip for your ſecond.

I have, ſir; and ſhould he diſappoint me, could prevail upon his ſiſter to fill his place:—away, ſir, we ſhall be obſerv'd.

So he ſaid he'd come?

Immediately.

Did he ſeem frighten'd?

No more than you are.

Then he muſt certainly be a very brave fel⯑low; I almoſt think it a pity to quarrel with ſuch a man: don't you think it rather coldiſh?

Cold! I think it uncommonly warm for the time of year.

I don't know how it is, but I feel it very cold, or I am going to be attacked with my old complaint.

Your old complaint! what's that?

A ſlight touch of the Ague that attacks me now and then.

Zounds! what a noiſe he makes! he goes to fight like an Indian, with the war-whoop.

Oh, here they come; I'll meaſure out the ground.

Meaſure the ground! I conceit I have taken my meaſure already of the ground.

But liſten to reaſon, baron; why not defer the duel 'till he returns from his voyage? conſider, if you kill him, what a fine experiment you'll ſpoil.

Me vil not hear von vord: eh bien, monſieur! eſt vous pret eſt vous pret? it be very high time begar you be pret.

It's high time I ſhould pray—why friend Mineall, this bloody minded Baron makes ſure of me! But where am I to ſtand?

Let the Baron remain where he is, and do you ſtand here.

Now, both diſcharge your piſtols together.

Hold, Mr. Baron, I bar firing yet; in that caſe, both of us may be ſhot! now I think the faireſt way will be the old practice of duelling; ſuppoſe we turn back to back, then jump round, and fire with our eyes ſhut.

I think the faireſt way will be to hide the horſe for the firſt ſhot.

Me vil hide no vat you call horſe; ſo, Mon⯑ſieur Quarto, or Monſieur Folio, or vat devil dey call you, you may ſhoot firſt, and me vil kill you in very god time after.

Did you ever hear of ſuch a blood thirſty dog! now I declare I wouldn't wiſh to kill him, tho' he ſeems to owe me ſuch a ſpite, and as theſe matters are frequently made up, eſpecially when the parties have come to the ground, and behav'd ſo bravely as you muſt own the Baron and I have.

Impoſſible! things are now gone too far for any ſort of accommodation.

Where's my dear Uncle?

Here, my dear George!

Eh, bien; pourquoi—vy you no fire!

Don't be in a hurry Baron, I wiſh to take leave of my Nephew, nobody knows what may hap⯑pen.

Dear, Sir, don't you fight him, I'll take the quarrel upon myſelf.

My dear boy, you don't ſay ſo?

My life's of no conſequence.

None in the world—then perhaps George you will go up in the Balloon for me too?

Moſt chearfully, Sir; ſo, if you give me your piſtol—

Here it is

but take care, it's cock'd,—let me ge get out of the way before you fire.

But hold, Mr. Gordon, in caſe you ſhould kill the Baron, you muſt fly the country; then what ſecurity has your Uncle given to make a proper pro⯑viſion for your ſupport during your baniſhment?

Don't let that ſtop the duel! I'll make over my eſtate in Shropſhire to him, and beſides, bequeath him every ſhilling I die poſſeſs'd of.

You hear what he ſays, Mr. Scrip; and there⯑fore, with his own conſent, I deliver the title deeds of his Shropſhire property into the hands of Mr. Gor⯑don.

Now for it, George, let him ſee he has a man of mettle to deal with; mind, you have the firſt ſhot, but be ſure you take good aim. Come, Baron, are you ready? I long to ſee them pop at each other; I never ſaw a duel in my life.

Zounds! Baron, what are you uncaſing for? are you a going to treat us to a boxing match?

A boxing match! oh, you low lived, cow⯑ardly raſcal, you ragamuffin, is it come to this at laſt! if I thought this was his way I could have box'd him myſelf; ſtand back, George, I'll fight this duel my⯑ſelf; let every man fight his own battles;

this is ſome German valet de chambre.

An Engliſh valet de cham⯑bre, Sir, at your ſervice; I hope, Sir, you wouldn't have me ſhoot my maſter.

Shoot your maſter! as I live that impudent dog Dawſon, why! Mineall, is this a trick of yours?

Aſk him no queſtions, he has play'd me a worſe trick: and in the true ſpirit of a lawyer made me pay for it.

Ay, prithee what has he done?

Not much, only ſold me an old hen for a young pullet; I paid neat twenty pounds in hard caſh for the ſight of a young Venus, as he made me be⯑lieve; [38]but when I ſaw her, dam'me if ſhe wasn't old enough to be my grandmother.

It was a diſappointment to both parties, and as one of us muſt have paid for it, I thought you could beſt afford it.

Pretty comfort this I muſt confeſs.

Where is my dear Baron? I hope he is not wounded beyond all cure.

No, Ma'am, there he is, Baron Dawſon, of Dawſon's Pantry, at your ſervice, far from being wounded beyond the power of cure; but I can aſſure you at the ſame time, that I am cured beyond the pow⯑er of your ever wounding me.

Siſter, ſiſter, I'm aſhamed of you—a woman at your time of life to have ſuch a colt's tooth.

Well; inſtead of thinking of a wife myſelf, if Miſs Harland will honour my nephew George with her hand, I will immediately make ſuch further ſettle⯑ment on him, as will place him every way on a foot⯑ing with her in regard to fortune.

Sir, your nephew's merit needs no ad⯑ventitious aid from fortune; and I do not bluſh to own my partiality for him, before I was acquainted with your generous intention.

By this light, you're a noble girl! and as you're ſhortly to be a near relation of mine, I will ha [...]e a buſs to our better acquaintance.

Well, my little Quarto, give me your hand, I congratulate you on ſlipping your neck ſo dextrouſly out of the matrimonial nooſe. But come, every thing is ready, and your flying man of war expects you.

I muſt beg to be excuſed; the magnet has loſt its power that was to have drawn me to the clouds.

Curs'd unlucky this! but, Dawſon, what will you take to go up?

Take, Sir! Ecod, I fancy I ſhould take my death.

Dam'me, if I hav'n't a great mind to go up myſelf; tho' upon ſecond thoughts, it would be rather imprudent, for if I be ſeiz'd with the rheumatiſm in my ſhoulders, I ſhall not be able to uſe either my oars or my wings.

I earneſtly requeſt, Mr. Scrip, that you would lay both your oars and your wings aſide, for the reſt of the day, and join in the happineſs of my friend George and his lovely Sophia! I know no feeling ſo grateful to the human heart as to reflect we have ſuc⯑ceeded in our moſt intereſting attempt; and there is nothing now wanting

but your ſupport and protection to elevate us without the aid of Aeroſtation.