ACT I.

JUBA!

You call, Maſſa?

How long have I been aſleep?

You ſleep long time, Maſſa; moſt two hour; ſleep do you good; you better now, Maſſa; Juba glad you better.

How unfortunate was this acci⯑dent during my ſearch after Caroline! whilſt I was every hour in hopes of tracing out the place to which her father has conveyed her, to be laid up in my bed for ſix days in an inn; without money, without friends, without—

Don't you ſorry, Maſſa; I your friend,

Poor little fellow! I have no power at preſent to reward thee.

You good to me, Maſſa, when I come from my own country—you very good when I ſick; no mind you no money, you have money bine by.

This kind creature's gratitude for the freedom I procured for him is without bounds.

Who are you bowing to there?

Maſſa Lenitive, your doctor, he come here:

I'm not more tired of my ſick room than I am of my apothecary; in a coun⯑try town one is glad of any aſſiſtance that can be met with; but never, ſure, was there ſuch a mixture of ignorance and profeſſional im⯑portance, as in this fellow.

He come to door on ſtair now, Maſſa.

Now then, for my ears to be dinn'd with a battery of technical terms. I'll diſmiſs him to-day, I'm determin'd.

Mr. Heartwell, your obedient! you ſlept well, doubtleſs, on the balſamick?

Thanks to your care and ſkill, Mr. Lenitive; I'm not quite well.

By no means, Sir! Yeſterday our pulſe intimated an approximation to conva⯑leſcence; but we are yet much diſorderd. Did you take thoſe little medicines that I ordered you this morning?

Yes, and want nothing now but freſh air to ſtrengthen me.

Give me leave, Sir.

You muſt keep yourſelf remarkably quiet; and not ſuffer any one to ſpeak to you: in all caſe. Mr. Heartwell, of a ſimilar nature to your's, where either laceration or extravaſation takes place on the membranous or cartilaginous fibres—the—you'll excuſeme, Sir—I'm afraid I don't make myſelf perfectly underſtood?

Indeed you do not!

Oh, perfectly, Sir! Go on.

I juſt remark'd, Sir, that where a ſyſtole or diaſtole is cauſed by any affection of the intercoſtal muſcles or the diaphragm, in thoſe caſes.—

A letter for you, Sir,

Bleſs my ſoul! you'll excuſe me, Mr. [8]Heartwell—ſome caſe of importance—I'm ſo overcharg'd with patients—great rapidity of ideas, Captain, requiſite fora medicinal perſon —one moment weighing the vibration of the nerves, and another diving into the viſcera!

A miſtake might, I preſume, be dangerous?

Fatal, Sir—abſolutely fatal! An ac⯑cident of the kind happened here laſt week— Doctor Lancet, my opponent—for merit, Sir—you know, Sir, merit every where has its ſhadow—Doctor Lancet, Sir, ordered a me⯑dicine ſtyptic, congeſtive, and anticathartick, which he intended to go directly to the lungs —but, unfortunately, not recollecting that his patient's complaint lay in the plexus hep⯑taticus, and not in the pulmonaria—the me⯑dicine, to be ſure, did its buſineſs.

And the patient's buſineſs too, I ſuppoſe?

Exactly ſo, Sir—Ha! ha! ha!

Ha! ha! ha!

You'll excuſe my young man—Ha! ha! fond of a joke—Eh, Label! it was exactly ſo, Sir—I am cautious in ſaying it—but you'll excuſe me whilſt I read this—the caſe perhaps is preſſing—Odſo! an expreſs from London! a conſultation probably—nothing more uſual Eh, Label! you know, nothing more common?

Oh no, nothing—nothing more common with us.

"Sir, your ticket"—So, ſo! an account of one of my lottery tickets—

"Sir, your ticket in the Engliſh lottery, [9]No. 78, was on the tenth day drawn—a blank!" —Um! always dabbling in the lottery; never ſhall have any luck!—"And your ticket, No. 2, 5, 3, 8, was this day drawn a prize of Ten Thouſand Pounds principal money!"—Bleſs my—

But pray, Doctor—

Ten thouſand Pounds!

But pray, now, Mr. Lenitive—

No. 2, 5, 3, 8! a lucky number in⯑deed! I know what I'll do with it—But I'll keep it a ſecret.

Why, what poſſeſſes the man! but I ſay, Doctor Lenitive—

Oh! I had forgot my patient!

Any orders for the ſhop, Sir.?

Damn the ſhop!—Eh! what! no, no—I ſhall return preſently.

"Damn the ſhop!"—why, I never heard ſuch—

You'll excuſe me, Sir—but a caſe that was particularly intereſting—

A ſucceſsful one, I preſume, by the violent ſymptoms of your joy?

Yes, Sir, very ſucceſsful indeed: more than I cou'd expect.

That's the firſt modeſt word I ever heard him ſpeak of himſelf.

2, 5, 3, 8! But I forget my patient —I think you were ſaying, Sir—

I was ſaying, Sir, that I find myſelf ſo much recover'd as to have no longer need to trouble you.

Give me leave, give me leave, Sir;

Why, ay, Sir, your ticket— poh! your fever, I mean, Sir—Yes, your fever, as you ſay, is quite ſubſided—yes—bleſs me, how lucky! Ten Thouſand Pound! quite ſub⯑ſided, yes, I ſay, quite—However, I wou'd adviſe you to continue on your couch another day, Sir—Ten Thouſand! how I ſhall aſto⯑niſh Mr. Caddy with the news; and my dear Miſs Caroline too—But—Zounds, I forgot my patient! I cou'd wiſh you, Sir, let me con⯑ſider—I can't think how I ſhall get the mo⯑ney ſent down to me—I cou'd wiſh you not to go out to-day, Sir.

Well, Sir, as you pleaſe; for one day more, but muſt I continue my draughts?

Drafts! egad, well thought on! I'd bet⯑ter have it ſent down in drafts—drafts! yes, Sir—no, no—I—I ſhall ſend you ſome drops to take.

But what number?

Number Two Thouſand Five Hundred and Thirty Eight—a moſt lucky number!

Two thouſand drops! why, zounds I ſhou'd be all day in counting 'em!

Count—no, no, Sir—I mean—no, nine or ten drops—nine or ten will be quite ſufficient—I forgot my patient indeed!

Why ſure the man's crazy!

You'll excuſe me, Captain, but I'm engag'd to attend Mr. Caddy, and ſhall ſee [11]you again in the afternoon.

Mr. Caddy, Sir—Is he in the neighbourhood?

He has a houſe near here, Sir, of which he has lately taken poſſeſſion; famous for one of the ſineſt collection of Chineſe curioſi⯑ties in Europe; which I am myſelf going to en⯑rich to day with—Ten Thouſand Pound! I mean—a celebrated figure of Chineſe Bonze, or High Prieſt—I'll give you a particular ac⯑count of it—A—

Another time if you pleaſe. Pray, Mr. Lenitive, has Mr. Caddy a daughter?

Two thouſand five hundred and thir⯑ty-eight!

How! what!

Odſo! aſk pardon, Sir—Daughter! yes, Sir Miſs Caroline, a moſt accompliſhed and amiable young lady—Well, you'll con⯑tinue in your room to-day.

You'll excuſe me, Sir—Juba! my things to dreſs!

Bleſs me! his fever's returned! My dear Sir—you muſt not think of ſtirring out to day—for—Ten thouſand Pound!

But I muſt—I hope my journey will produce double the ſum—How Fortunate.

Fortunate indeed, Sir—aſtoniſhingly fortunate—but, dear Sir, you are not aware, that by expoſing yourſelf thus ſuddenly to the inclemency of the atmoſphere—

Pray leave me now, Sir.

You'll cloſe the reticula of the cutis.

Be gone, I ſay!

Be gone! Oh, yes! he's quite delirious —but conſider, Sir, the coagulation of the juices.

Zounds! depart, I ſay.

For a ſtrait waiſtcoat—take care, Sir, how you bring on a conſtipation of the fluids.

Death and fire! get out.

And at the termination of the com⯑plaint, produce a mortification of the noblen interſtines; which will finally compleat the diſſolution of the ſyſtem.

Ten thouſand Devils fly away with you.

Ten thouſand pounds! 2, 5, 3 8!

This fellow's certainly mad! there's no end to his impertinence!—Juba!

Bring me pen, ink, and paper directly and go again to the poſt-office.

Now for my Caroline—the hope of ſeeing her revives me to life, health, and ſpirits.—This blockhead Lenitive, has done me ſome good at laſt.

Ah, Juba!

Is it you? or only fancy no tell true.

Ah Miſſy! me glad to ſee you; poor Maſſa be very glad.

Is Mr. Heartwell in this town? where is he? how does he do?

Ifs, Miſſy! Maſſa here at an inn cloſe by; he ſend me to poſt a great many time— me bring no letter, maſſa be ſad—but he not.

Caroline!

Ma'am!—What is he not? Juba.

Caroline, where are you all this while?

Coming this inſtant, Ma'am—But, Juba, tell me of Heartwell—isn't he well?

He no well now, Miſſy; but he well when he ſee you.

Caroline, come down directly, and ſhut the window.

Coming, Mamma—Juba, haſte to your maſter, tell him my father has ſelected an odious apothecary to be my huſband; but that I'm determin'd I wont have him.

Why, Caroline, I ſay—

Coming, Mamma!

Very well, Miſſy! me tell him—dis [15]do my Maſſa heart good—dis better dan eat and drink, and potecary's ſtuff too—me go tell my Maſſa dis now, go to poſt by and by.

Ten thouſand pounds! wherefore ſhou'd I be an apothecary? Poh! throw phyſic to the dogs! I'll be a gentleman! if I marry Miſs Caroline, with the addition of her fortune, I ſhall make one of the fineſt figures in the univerſe! I was born to gentility!

I feel it in my veins—in my bones—and the whole maſs of my circulation—But the opening of my fortune, ay, that's the point—it wou'd be a nice hit if I cou'd deviſe ſome recipe to ſur⯑priſe Mr. Caddy's family ſmartly at the time of diſcovery—a few grains of the beleſprit on this occaſion may operate in my favour.

Sir! Sir!

Ha! Label!

You've been very much wanted here, Sir; Lady Blubber and Mrs Reſtles have ſent to deſire you'd come directly to'em—I've been up at Mrs Neverwell's—I'm afraid that will turn out a bad job—ſhe has taken every preſcription in our day-book—and I don't [16]know what more can be done for the poor crea⯑ture—ſhe was piteous bad, and crying out with pain!

How! what does it divert you Sir?

That will do! I have got an excel⯑lent thought juſt come in my head!

I'm glad of it, for they're all deſ⯑perate ſad,

Yes, I have it!

Dearme, I'm glad of it! D'ye think you can cure her ſir?

How it will ſurpriſe 'em!

Yes, that will ſurpriſe 'em indeed and I'm ſure it will yield great joy to the whole family.

Eh! why yes as you ſay, Label! they'll all enjoy it mightily. I'll tell you how I'll manage it.

Well, Sir

You know I have promis'd to give Mr. Caddy an old Chineſe figure: which I have told him is a High Prieſt embalm'd— now, as this is a curious caſe—

Quite puzzling, Sir!

I'll ſend him two inſtead of one—ſo do you go to the carpenter's?

The carpenter's!

Yes, to be ſure the carpenter's!

But, dear Sir, the poor lady's ſitua⯑tion [17]won't admit of delay; for I warrant you ſhe's in fits again by this time.

Fits! who's in fits?

Nrs. Neverwell, Sir.

Mrs. Neverwell, blockhead! An⯑ſwer me, Label, don't you know I've got the Ten thouſand pound prize?

How, Sir! Ten thouſand pound!

Ah, 2, 5, 3, 8!—And now I tell you —if ever you ſpeak a word more to me about fits or phyſic again, I'll poiſon ye, ye dog!

Poiſon me!

Yes, I'll poiſon you.

No, I fancy you won't venture to do that.

Not venture! pray why not?

Becauſe you'll be afraid I ſhall re⯑pay you in kind.

What! do you pretend to enter the liſts with me in my profeſſion! in the Artc Necandi.

And why not pray? I believe I can lay claim to as many pretty little acci⯑dents as yourſelf.

Indeed! how ſo, pray?

Yes indeed! and you reap'd the benefit of 'em; Who d'ye think made all the Mayor's family ſick, when you got ſo many fees from 'em, one after another?

Why, who?

Who but I—Monſieur Frican⯑deau, the French cook, was my old acquain⯑tance; [18]ſo, under pretence of recommending him ſome very nice ſauce for the Mayor that I bought him, I whipt in a little ſaccha⯑rum ſaturni, and gave the whole family the co⯑lic. If you recollect, by making a very ſlight encreaſe of their diſorder at the beginning you kept 'em under your care for nine weeks.

Why, yes; that was a ſnug job, I muſt own.

Therefore, Sir, if you're retiring from buſineſs, I ſhou'd be glad if you'd pleaſe to reccommend me.

Label, you ſhall ſucceed me—Aris ſecundus Apollo—you ſhall be the ſecond Apollo.

Thank ye, Sir.

I herewith inveſt you with the inſig⯑nia of wiſdom—take my cane—take my hat —take my wig—take my coat, waiſtcoat—

But have not you promis'd to go to Mr. Caddy's this morning, Sir? you won't go without your wig, will you?

That's true, Label—I muſt go once more as an apothecary—poh! But never more will I look on a gallipot—you ſhall never more know me to have been an apothecary.

Not know you! Lord bleſs you! why I ſhou'd know you all the world over for an apothecary by your talk.

But you ſhall now ſee the difference —you ſhall never hear from my mouth a ſingle word that ſhall remind you of phyſic; for [19]certainly nothing is ſo vulgar as for a man's converſation to ſmell of his ſhop!

Lord, Sir, you've begun already! —Ha! ha! ha! why that's ſecundum artem— "Smell of your ſhop;"

Why did I ſay ſo?

Oh yes you did.

Did I Smell of my ſhop! well it was the laſt motion of phyſic within my lips; now be ſure you don't let a tittle of my Ten thou⯑ſand pound paſs through you to any one liv⯑ing —I'll ſurprize 'em with the ſudden eclat —break out on the whole family—ſo d'ye hear, Label, if any patients ſend to me for medicines or advice, tell 'em to take notice —take—no, plague on't—that take is an apo⯑thecary's word—ſmells of the ſhop too—tell 'em to take—

At it again, Sir—take—

Damnation! tell 'em to take them⯑ſelves about their buſineſs.

Some bottles, Sir, for your ſhop!

Damn the bottles! and the ſhop!

There now, ſee what a number of bottles.

Damn all numbers but 2, 5, 3, 8!— Throw phyſic to the dogs—2, 5, 3, 8—Ten thouſand pounds:

Here! here's a fellow throws himſelf on my generoſity:

Why ſurely nothing can be handſomer than Mr. Heartwell's behaviour in writing thus to you,

And what do you think he does it for? Becauſe he does not want my girl with⯑out her fortune.

And no one is more deſerving of her fortune and her too.

But he ſhan't have it tho'—no, no, trade got it, and let trade keep it; I'll have my daughter happy in my own way—Mr. Lenitive is a proper orderly young man, in a good buſineſs; a man of ſcience and good taſte. Do you know that he has promis'd to ſend me a true old Chineſe Bonze to-day?

Old Bonze; hav'nt you old bones enough of your own already?

Poh, poh; But where's Caroline all this time?—Caroline—

Did you want me, papa?

To be ſure I do; Look here huſſy; you know Mr. Heartwell's hand, I ſuppoſe?

Oh dear, yes, that I do.

Didn't I charge you, before you left town, when I retired to this ſeat, which I came to entirely on your account; didn't I —I ſay, charge you to break off all acquaint⯑ance with Mr. Heartwell, becauſe he had not money enough to ſupport you?

Yes papa; and you charg'd me before we left town to lo [...] Mr. Heartwell; and, as you chang'd your mind once, I hop'd you might do the ſame again.

No jeſting, huſſy; did not I bring all my family into this retired part of the country, that we might not be plagu'd with his viſits; and that he might not even know where to find us?

Yes, papa; and it being ſo retired a part of the country, I wiſh'd for Mr. Heartwell to keep me company.

Why you impudent!—harkee, huſſy hav'nt I done all this to make you happy?

I don't know, papa; we differ ſtrange⯑ly in our ideas of happineſs.

How, minx! an't I always trying to make you happy, if you wou'd but be ſo: but I can't perſuade you to be happy in my way, hav'nt I found for you, here in the country; a ſuitable huſband in Mr. Lenitive—a ſenſi⯑ble —reſpectable—agreeable—

Heigho!

There again; why, huſſy, one wou'd think I was aſking you to take his phyſic in⯑ſtead of him.

Why indeed papa, his phyſic is the moſt agreeable of the two; and you know this Mr. Lenitive—

Is a man after my own heart; ſo don't ſay a word againſt him; you know that a value I have for him; you'll thank me the longeſt day of your life for procuring you ſuch a huſband—Oh, here he comes; Now let me ſee how well you can behave to him.

Mrs. Caddy, your moſt devoted—Mr Caddy, I'm your's—My charming amiable Miſs Caroline, your moſt enſlav'd—you ſeem divinely well this morning—your looks are the very ſyrup of roſes—you're a happy man Mr. Caddy, in being the father of ſuch a ſweet young lady—I proteſt the very ſight warms my heart like a cardamum:

Filthy fellow;—Mr. Lenitive, your love always puts me in mind of your ſhop.

Oh, damn the ſhop; why what did I ſay, Miſs, did I ſpeak about my ſhop?

Yes, you compar'd me to a drug, and ſaid I warm'd your heart like a cardamum.

Did I; oh plague of my apothecary's vocabulary.

Harkee, Miſs, if you're come back to your ſenſes, I adviſe you to look on Mr. Lenitive as your huſband that is to be; and if you have not yet recover'd 'em, I'll ſend him to ye as a phyſician.

Oh, papa, I'll take him as a phyſician.

Why, you're not ill, are you?

No, but I ſoon ſhou'd be if he were my huſband: and then I muſt take him for both,

Caroline, I'm aſham'd of ye.

Pardon me, Mr. Caddy—Pray, Miſs Caroline—if I may make bold to feel the pulſe of your inclinations, what can you find to diſlike in me?

Why; I diſlike you on the whole. Is not that enough.

But what do you diſlike about me in particular?

Why I don't like your wig.

My wig! don't like my wig! fanci⯑ful enough! Well, that perhaps time—how I long to tell her—but mum—I ſhall ſurprize 'em this afternoon, but what elſe do you diſlike?

I don't like your coat.

Don't like my coat! my wig and my coat, my dear Miſs Caroline, perhaps, I ſay no more at preſent, but perhaps time may mend'em

Then I don't like your face.

Oh, damn it! time won't mend that!

Dear Mr. Lenitive, excuſe this girl —ſhe's young and fooliſh at preſent—Caro⯑line, an't you aſham'd of yourself? Mr, Leni⯑tive's dreſs is ſuited to his profeſſion.

Profeſſion—fogh! I can't bear to hear it mentioned.

, I'll go directly to Whipſtitch, the taylor, and equip myſelf in [24]the pink of the mode.—Mr. Caddy, you'll excuſe me—particular buſineſs—Miſs Caro⯑line —ſuffer me from thoſe bright eyes to take one emollient draught of comfort—plague on the words of my ſhop—they ſtick to my tongue like a bliſter.

But, Mr. Lenitive, you won't forget the Bonze?

Hoeret lateri, Mr. Caddy; I'll ſet in inſtantly in motion.

You'll think of me?

Oh mihi poſt nullos Caddi memo⯑randi ſodales—2, 5, 3, 8.

There now! there's a huſband for ye—none of your Heart well's for me, hark'ee, did not you ſend word to Heartwell of the place we are retired to?

Me, papa! not I!

Come, I know you did—you have no regard to the pains I take to make you happy—I wonder, if I was to diſinherit you for your perverſeneſs, whether Heartwell wou'd travel as far to find you.

Yes, papa, I'm ſure he wou'd—be⯑cauſe —

Ah, becauſe why, pray?

Becauſe he told me himſelf.

That's a good reaſon indeed! No, no, I fancy we ſhou'd not be troubled with many of his viſits then.

Nor Mr. Lenitive's either.

Now don't make me angry, or I'll diſinherit you in earneſt, and leave your for⯑tune to your couſin Clara, who is expected here in a few days.

Now my dear papa! I have hit on a ſcheme which you muſt aſſiſt me to put in practice; after which, if you deſire it, I am willing to marry Mr. Lenitive.

A ſcheme! nonſenſe! what ſcheme is it?

Only to inform Mr. Heartwell and Mr. Lenitive, that you have diſinherited me, and ſettled your fortune on my couſin Clara; then ſuffer me to paſs for her.

Well?

Then we may make trial of 'em both, and find which is the moſt diſintereſted; and ſee who's in the right, you or I,

What, and if Heartwell makes love to the ſuppos'd couſin—

I'll marry Lenitive as ſoon as you pleaſe.

Ah, you little fool! then you'll be married to-morrow morning.

Very well

But you don't conſider, that Clara has been ſo long in France, ſhe has more than half forgot the uſe of her native tongue; how then will you paſs for her without being diſ⯑covered.

Nothing more eaſy; 'tis only dreſ⯑ſing myſelf out like an Opera dancer, toſſing [26]my head, and imitating the French.

Hark'e, Caroline, you may imitate your couſin's affectation, and toſs your head about as much as you pleaſe; but as long as I have a leg to ſtand on, I promiſe ye none of my family ſhall ever imitate the French.

My dear papa, don't miſconceive me; I mean to diſguiſe myſelf, only by an expoſition of their folly; for, however I may copy their ridicule by this ſcheme I have in my head, my heart is of true Engliſh growth, I aſſure ye.

Well, I like the bargain well enouh; I'll ſend to Lenitive and Heartwell directly; do you get yourſelf ready, and mind our agreement.

That I will, moſt rigidly; but if my plot fails, I'll willingly relinguiſh all hopes of happineſs with my lover.

ACT II.

POOR Caroline! this matter will ſoon be ſettled; ſhe'll ſcarcely go from her word: and I'm ſure of Lenitive. So, thank Hea⯑ven, my girl will be happy at laſt in the way I wou'd have her.

Hey-day! what is all that noiſe on the ſtair-caſe?

Sir, Mr. Lenitive's compliments to you and Miſs Caroline, and he has ſent two caſes.

Ay, my dear, he ſent me word he [29]hop'd to preſent me with a ſecond caſe, which I ſhou'd eſteem a no leſs valuable curioſity than the firſt; another Bonze I ſuppoſe; this is a ſon-in-law after my own heart; no ſop⯑peries —no ſineries—Oh, here they come—

And here's Mr. Lenitive—eh! No, its Label!

Why, friend, I was in hopes of ſee⯑ing your maſter.

Maſter, Sir, Maſter!—Sir, Mr. Lenitive will be here preſently—any com⯑plaints in the family, Sir? as Mr. Lenitive is retiring from buſineſs, I ſhou'd be glad to be employ'd during the reſiduum of your days, Sir—you may depend on conſtant attendance, reaſonable bills, and a Copia Me⯑dicinorum, Opitmorum, and Santiffimorum.

Conſtant attendance! Why damme, Sir, d'ye think I mean to beſpeak diſorders as I do my ſhoes, and be ill by the year! Get out of my ſight directly!

An old frump! but he's a good cuſtomer, and ſo—

An impudent puppy! His maſter re⯑tiring! No, no, his maſter is not ſuch a fool, Now, my dear—let me ſee—Oh, Lord, here's [30]Heartwell, plague on him for coming juſt at this moment! he ſhan't have a ſight of the Chineſe Bonzes, though I long to ſee'em myſelf, but they are too ſacred for the eyes of a fop.

Mr. Heartwell, your ſervant!

Is it poſſible, Sir, I can be ſo fortunate as—

I gueſs what you're going to ſay, Sir; but you can't gueſs what I'm going to ſay to you, and ſo I'll tell you—You muſt know, Sir, you'll be ſupris'd—but Caroline's perverſe behaviour has, at laſt, induced me to transfer my affections to my niece Clara, to whom I have made over all the fortune I formerly de⯑ſign'd for Caroline.

How, Sir! Diſinherited your own daughter!

Yes, Sir; diſinherited my own daughter! I ſuppoſe I may do what I will with my own? Oh ho! what that alters the caſe, does it?

Sir, if you meant only to inſult me—

Inſult you! no, Sir; I ſent for you only out of reſpect to you.

Sir,

Sir, yes, Sir; I ſent for you to offer you my niece Clara's hand, it you chuſe her, inſtead of Caroline's: why, you'd ſcarce know [31]one from the other, except that Clara is more accompliſh'd from having been educated abroad, and not ſo homely as Caroline.

How, Sir; do you think to make ſport of me like an ideot? Be aſſured, Sir, your niece's accompliſhments are no object to me—but where is my dear Caroline? no force ſhall keep her from me—her poverty ſhall be my pride—and the profit of my commiſſion, though ſmall, ſhall be laviſh'd on her, and every effort ſtrain'd to make her happy as her merit deſerves, and ſo, Sir, your ſervant,

Oh, your ſervant Sir, what I ſuppoſe he'd perſuade me that if he was rich he'd marry Caroline without a fortune—but I know the world a little too well, but now, my dear Mrs. Caddy, how I long to ſee 'em;

There's No1. —I never ſaw a greater beau⯑ty; it's enough to frighten one to look at it▪ what awe it inſpires! ay, ay, this is the pride of my intended ſon-in-law; he's fonder of this than the whole female race, now Heartwell's a fool; fond of nothing but wine, women, and ſuch trumpery—no ſenſe, no taſte—Now if the other be but as great a curioſity—if No. 2.

Number Two Thouſand Five Hun⯑dred and Thirty Eight; bought at Richardſon [32]and Goodluck's, Charing Croſs, oppoſite the man upon the Black Horſe.

Why what the devil is all this, Mr. Lenitive?

Mr. Caddy, fortune, who too often confers her favours blindly, has this day diſ⯑played her ſuperior taſte by ſelecting me for her favourite: I come in this manner to offer to your family an eſtate of Ten thouſand pounds principal money. Of the many caſes I have been engaged in, I have come out of this in the moſt brilliant manner,

Ah. I had rather have had another old Bonze.

I flatter myſelf this humour of mine breaking out quite in a new vein—this dreſs—

Dreſs; why you look like a Tom fool why what the deuce do you mean by this lit⯑tle jacket?

Little jacket; why that's my great coat

Great coat.

Yes, great coat, every body wear theſe.

Why who the deuce makes ſuch great coats?

Who? why Whipſtitch, the London taylor?

Whipſtitch—where does he live?

On the ſkirts of the town.

But where's the charming young lady, Mr. Caddy, who has the honour to be your niece?

What, you heard all about it then while you was in the caſe?

With aſtoniſhment!

Ay, I have my reaſons for it; and egad I ſuſpect one more than I thought— Well, what ſay you; Caroline without a for⯑tune, or Clara with one? I give you your choice—that is, provided you return to your old coat and wig.

Pardon me, Mr. Caddy, pray drop the idea of the old coat and wig! the ſtomach turns at the bare remembrane.

I'll not leave the houſe till I find this apothecary; at his ſhop they aſſured me he was here; beſides, in waiting I may have a chance of ſeeing my dear Caroline—Eh! who comes here?

Couſin; Caroline—take the couſin inſtead of Caroline—Love is a very pretty in⯑gredient in a match to be ſure: but love and fortune make a much pleaſanter mixture.

Your ſervant, Sir!

Whom have we hear! Heartwell again? Zounds! how he's recover'd ſince I left [35]him—He certainly has not taken his phyſic.

Eh! is that my rival yonder—he's ſtrangely alter'd in his appcarance—Your ſer⯑vant, Sir!

Sir, your ſervant!

May I preſume to aſk Sir, if your name is not Lenitive, the apothecary?

Lenitive, Sir—Luke Lenitive, Eſq. at your ſervice: but apothecary no more.

I hear, Sir, that Mr. Caddy has ſome thoughts of marrying his daughter to you.

You hear ſo—He! he! he! I believe Sir, there may be ſom thoughts of ſuch a thing.

Have you the lady's conſent Sir?

The lady's conſent! Ha! ha! ha! egad that's pleaſant enough! I ſhou'd think any one that look'd at my figure—

Your figure's as ridiculous as I conceive your pretentions to be; you look to me like—

Like what, Sir?

Like an apothecary.

The Devil I do!

And let me adviſe you, Mr, Apo⯑thecary, to be cautious how you proceed! or you'll have more buſineſs to ſettle than you are aware of.

Sir, I've left my buſineſs! but pray, Captain, have you any right to preſcribe to me? I've got Ten thouſand pound in my pocket, that's more than every gentleman of the army can boaſt,

Hark'e, Mr. Whipperſnapper, if [36]you, ſuffer Mr. Caddy to lay the leaſt ſhadow of reſtraint on his daughter's inclinations, the only choice I ſhall leave you will be, the length of your ground the piſtol-ſhot.

Egad, then I'll chuſe a ſufficient long one.

But why do I talk of a piſtol to a fellow that deſerves to be pounded in his own mortar?

Let me adviſe you, Sir, to be on your guard! how vou inſult a gentleman with ſuch language—Whipperſnapper indeed! you'll find, Sir. that if once I take hold of a piſtol—

A piſtol! a peſtle you mean?

No, Sir, a piſtol—I mean, a piſtol— P, I, S, T, O, L—I ſay, Sir, if once I take a peſtle—a piſtol I mean—

There, you ſee now—

Plague of my tongue—I ſay, Sir, if once I take hold of a piſtol—

Ha! ha! ha!

What d'ye laugh at, Sir?

I beg your pardon, Sir—But I was thinking, as I have eſcap'd ſafe from your medicines, I need not much be afraid of any thing elſe I can receive from you: you'll re⯑member my advice—Your moſt obedient, Doctor Apothecary.

Doctor! Damnation! Oh that ever I ſhou'd have ever been an apothecary!—Ecod it wou'd be a neat trick enough to take the couſin, and fob this Copper Captain off with a girl without a ſixpence—ſee who'll laugh [37]then—Doctor indeed! I'll Doctor him—Oh, here is Mr. Caddy—Well, Sir, what news of the young lady?

Take care of your heart, Mr. Leni⯑tive —egad ſhe'll make a conqueſt of you—I have a great mind to give him a hint of the trick—Yonder ſhe comes, d'ye ſee her! ſhe's as like Caroline as one nankeen beaker is like another.

Egad as you ſay, they're as like as two pills out of the ſame box.

D'ye think ſhe's as handſome?

Handſomer!

I don't like that—

But, Caro⯑line is the better match for all that—Well, here ſhe comes—I'll leave ye together—but remember you had better take Caroline.

Take Caroline without a fortune— No—marriage without money is, as the Song ſays, "Bitter to ſwallow, and hard of digeſtion."

Ah, ma chere bon amie la jolie Garcon!

Egad this is the very thing for me! quite the ſhapes for a man of my fortune—how lucky that I'm a gentleman! I wiſh ſhe ſpoke Engliſh though, that I might underſtand her.

Ah, Monſieur Lenitive, comme eſt Beau—

A Beau! yes, I am that! ſhe's ſtruck with my figure—Yes, ſhe has a good taſte—egad ſhe's the firſt perſon I've found in the houſe who has any.

Ah, Monſieur, qui'l eſt a Beau,

Kill a beau! no, Miſs—I've cur'd many—never kill'd one in all my life—Oh, ſhe means that I ſhall die for love of her—Yes, lovely charmer, in that your charms are more dangerous than medicine—they are ſufficient to unnerve the fibres of the ſtrongeſt heart— pierce the integuments of the perricordium; and penetrate quite thro' the ſolids into the medulla—Zounds! this unlucky jargon is al⯑ways at my tongue's end!

Monſieur, you ſpeak a to me of phyſic.

Ah, ſhe has ſmelt me out—I muſst alter my ſyſtem—Pray, Miſs Clara, did you ever ſee me before?

Oui tres ſouvent.

What's that you ſay, Miſs?

Je parle Francois?

No, Miſs I don't parley in Francoiſe —Damn it, that's unlucky too, now I'm a gentleman!

Parle Italiano?

No, Miſs, I don't ſpeak French at all.

No. I believe all languages are alike to him.

What d'ye ſay, Miſs?

Que vous etes charmante.

No, nor Jarman—I ſpeak all the dead languages but French and Jarman!

Ah, ce ne maimex pas.

No, Miſs, it's you have maimed me in the heart, and muſt now be my phyſician.

Ah, I fear you no love a me!

I entreat you Miſs, to throw off thoſe fears—

, Suffer me to aſſure you, Miſs, that nothing can root out my paſſion—I am poſitive that neither change of air nor diet cou'd give me the ſmalleſt relief—No, Miſs, the fever of love is ſo ſtrong upon me, that I'm certain ſixteen grains of James's powders wou'd have no more effect than—Damnit, I'm nail'd to the counter like a bad ſhilling.

Ah, pitie pauvre Caroline, who will be ſo much diſappoint of ſo ſweet a gentilhomme.

Oh dear no; diſappointment perhaps may diſorder her ſtomach—occaſion bile— but that's all—I'll venture to aſſert that a lit⯑tle ſal polycreſt and rhubarb, taking regularly three table ſpoons full, four or five times a day—Zounds, I've got into my ſhop again!

You ſee my couſin no more den?

Oh your couſin, Miſs, wou'd not have done for me at all—very well in the country, but wou'd not do to hang upon my arm in the great world—But when we go to London we shall ſee the Italian Opeara, and hear Mounſeer Browni, Signor Kelly, madam Mary, and Sig⯑nora Scratchi—and then we ſhall viſit all the polite place—Vauxhall Gardens, Apollo Gar⯑dens, Bermondſey Spa—

Ah you make de belle figure.

A figure? Oh yes, 2, 5, 3, 8, for that.

Vil you dance a chaccone vid me?

Pray excuſe me, Miſs, I never danc'd in my life—except after my patients.

Vil you ſing?

No, Miſs, when I ſing—I—I don't often ſing when I do they—they—

Ah, moque de vous!

Yes, they ſmoke me—they laugh at me!

If you pleaſe I ſing a you de Canzo⯑net and grand Air from the Opera at Paris.

Oh Lord, ay! that muſt be charming!

Oh, charming! ſuch melody! ſuch words! tho' damn me if I underſtood one of 'em!

Don't aſk me about your maſter!

Oh me ſo glad! ſo glad—Maſſa no here?

No, I tell you—He has been gone this half hour.

Den me find him—dis letter make my Maſſa ſo happy!

Well, Mr. Lenitive, how d'ye find yourſelf? what, you're ſmitten, are you?

Oh, enchanted!

And you are willing to take Clara in⯑ſtead of my daughter, are you?

With raptures! My dear Mr. Caddy, there's as much difference between her and your daughter as between honey and hieri picra—Miſs Clara has more wit, more life, more ſpirit, more air, more—every thing— ſhe is ſal volatile itſelf!

Now if it was not for the Chineſe Bonze he gave me, I cou'd kick him

Hey-day! Heartwell here again.

Well, what do you come for now, Sir?

I return to you with a heart pant⯑ing with hope: the intelligence I have here re⯑ceiv'd, enables me to offer Miſs Caroline, with my hand, a fortune ſuperior to that which was once her own. I am ready to take her [42]without a ſhilling, and only requeſt to receive her from your hand.

My dear papa! who's in the right now?

How! Caroline!

What Caroline!

Yes, this was all a trick of Caroline's! but you had not ſenſe enough to ſee it—you ſon of a Gallipot!

So I've made a pretty job of it!

Mr. Lenitive, here's another letter for you, brought to my ſhop, from the Lottery Office.

Oh, they've ſent me a draft for the money, well this will conſole me for my loſs of credit here.

Damnation! my Prize is a Blank!

A Blank! Ha! ha! ha!

How, Sir! a blank?

There's a miſtake in a figure?

What in 2, 5, 3, 8?

Oh curſe 2, 5, 3, 8!—I'll tell you what, Label, I'll have my coat and wig again.

No you don't tho'—I'm in poſſeſ⯑ſion, and that you know—

I will have my wig, if I get no⯑thing elſe.