ACT I.

COME, Charles, fill your glaſs—here's reformation to your father,

With all my ſoul, for ſure never was re⯑formation more wanted, ſince ſhaving became fa⯑ſhionable in Ruſſia.

I have not ſeen Emily this month: as he knows ſhe has a fortune of ten thouſand pounds in⯑dependent of him, he keeps her a cloſe priſoner; and to ſuch an exceſs does this military mania hur⯑ry him, that, I believe in my conſcience he would prefer a ſerjeant of invalids, or a Chelſea penſioner, to your diſcarded friend, for a ſon-in-law.

I left Oxford with a full perſuaſion that your influence would have reconciled us.

My influence, Charles, ceaſed, the mo⯑ment I refuſed to quit the bar, and purchaſe a com⯑miſſion. In vain did I expoſtulate and repreſent the [viii] [...] [] [...] [2] ridicule, as a lawyer, I muſt incur, by going into the army. He continued inflexible; aſſerted Old England was in danger daily of an invaſion, and that every man who had a regard for her laws and conſtitution, ſhould now fight for them.

Then, Sir, it ſeems he is in great dread of an invaſion.

In ſuch dread of it, that he has got a ſer⯑jeant and a drummer, that are down here on a re⯑cruiting party, to teach him his exerciſe—Nay, I am told he intends ſinking a trench round Evergreen Hall, and converting it into a garriſon.

I ſuppoſe he's the jeſt of the whole county.

Why, faith, no—very few know any thing about him. Brighthelmſtone, during the ſea⯑ſon, is too much engaged with ſcandal and gallantry—then his houſe ſtanding ſo far out of the town—

'Sdeath! if, inſtead of baniſhing me for faults he was guilty of himſelf at my age, he had clapped a ſword into my hand, and bade me fight for my country, he'd have acted like an Engliſhman and a good father: but an old fellow of ſixty, trou⯑bled three or four times a year with the gout, to think of going into the army!—he may as well think of a wife.

I ſuppoſe you have heard that your old aunt, Lady Catherine Rouge, paſſed this ſummer, for the firſt time, at his houſe. She, Sir, is my moſt formidable enemy. Would you believe it, Charles? The old lady actually made love to me; and becauſe I did not return her overtures with all the warmth ſhe expected, like a true woman, ſhe moſt cordially hates me.

She does?—More ſhame for you, Sir, to put it in her power.

Why, Camelion, ſure you don't ſuppoſe I could make love to a woman old enough to be my grandmother!

Aye, to your grandmother herſelf, provided that was the only method you had left to obtain the real miſtreſs of your heart. Now, had I been in your ſituation, and ſhe had been as withered as a mummy, without a tooth in her head, or a hair of any colour to boaſt of, I'd have been at her feet from morning till night, ſwore that ſhe had a Cupid in every wrinkle, that I loved her more than Antony did Cleopatra, and that if the Goddeſs of Diſcord threw another golden apple upon earth, to be given to the faireſt, and appointed me judge, her Ladyſhip, without having a tooth to eat it, ſhould have had the pippin before to-morrow morning.

Ha, ha, ha!

Why, Cameleon, you are a wit; and, from ſome of your ſlights, I ſhould conclude, a piece of a ſcholar.

It is no matter what I am, Sir, I wiſh to ſerve my maſter, and ſerve you too, Sir; and I think I can do it, provided my maſter is not altogether ſo ſqueamiſh as his friend.

What are you driving at, Cameleon?

I only hope, Sir, that you are not ſo refined in your notions of beauty as Mr. Beaufort; and that, provided it is your intereſt, you can miſtake the ſnow upon an old ſapleſs trunk, for bloſſoms and green leaves, and ſwear you feel the heat of the Dog-days in the month of December. But to wave metaphor, I hope, Sir, you will think that Lady Catherine has ſtill ſome charms left.

Why, you raſcal, have you forgot ſhe is my aunt?

Your aunt! What then? Has not ſhe a great deal of money? And don't you think it would be a pity to let it go out of the family? Has ſhe ever ſeen you?

Not ſince I was eight years old, when, I re⯑member, ſhe has often taken me on her knee, pat⯑ted [4] my cheek, played with my ringlets, and called me her little Adonis.

Then, Sir, you muſt now return the com⯑pliment, you muſt take her upon your knee, pat her cheeks, play with her ringlets, and call her your full-grown Venus.

Pſha! fool! this will never take. A wo⯑man that has lived in the ſphere ſhe has—

Will believe any handſome young fellow, who tells her he is love with her. The ſphere ſhe has lived in! 'Sdeath, Sir, do you ſuppoſe women of quality live in the ſphere of Dian, or are all born under Virgo? It might have been ſo formerly, but the preſent race are certainly under the influ⯑ence of warmer planets. A woman of quality ex⯑pects lovers to the laſt moment of her life; and as the kings of France, from exceſs of reſpect, are ſup⯑poſed never to die, ſo a woman of faſhion, from ex⯑ceſs of gallantry, is ſuppoſed never to ceaſe to be beautiful. A woman ſuch as Lady Catherine, like ice before the ſun, will diſſolve at the blaze which ſurrounds a fine young fellow.

O your humble ſervant, Sir.

I am right in my philoſophy.

I reliſh your ſcheme exceedingly, Came⯑leon. The old lady, Charles, is as rich as a Jew, and can do any thing with your father. Now, if you play your cards ſkilfully, you may with eaſe draw her into ſuch a ridiculous ſituation that ſhe'll be glad to purchaſe your ſilence at any rate.

Sir, you have hit it. Make love to her, and afterwards diſcard me as a blockhead, or ſtone me for a falſe prophet, if it prove not the means of all your debts being paid, and you being reconciled to your father as firmly as ever. Here, waiter, bring pen, ink and paper.

Write to her immediately, and in⯑treat an interview, which I'm ſure ſhe'll grant.

And what name am I to aſſume?

What name!—Why, let me ſee—Suppoſe you borrow Sir George Narciſſus's name—he's your intimate friend, and as utterly unknown in perſon to Lady Catherine as you are.

Enough.

Waiter, bring a candle.

I have a ſcheme to ſerve you too, Mr. Beaufort.

I thank you, Cameleon, but that I know to be out of your power.

Don't think ſlightly of my power, till you are better acquainted with it. What would you think if I procured you an interview with Miſs Evergreen this very afternoon?

Think! that you are Machiavel himſelf.

But pr'ythee tell me how you propoſe effecting this?

You have no objection to wearing a livery?

None in the world.

Impudent raſcal! The next queſtion, I ſup⯑poſe you'll aſk him is, whether he'll go on board wages.

Then, Sir, I'll aſſume the character of the celebrated Enamel the dentiſt from London. I lived with him two years, and, whenever I pleaſe, we are as like as two eye teeth. You ſhall paſs as my ſervant, and in this diſguiſe we will viſit Sir John, as recommended by Colonel Platoon, his par⯑ticular friend in London, to give him a new ſet of teeth, and a left eye, that he may look like a ſol⯑dier, when he goes into the militia.

But what end will this anſwer?

Why, Sir, while I am amuſing Sir John with all the faſhionable jargon of a firſt-rate dentiſt, you will have an opportunity of converſing with your miſtreſs, and of aſſuring her, that if ſhe will conſent, you will deliver her this night.

This night, Camelion!

This night, Sir, if there's faith in man.—You know he is always raving of an invaſion: that's my engine. I'll unſold my plot on our way to Evergreen-Hall; you may depend, I think, on its ſucceſs, when Sir John's character is conſidered; therefore employ all your eloquence with your miſtreſs, for nothing but her diſapprobation of our plan can defeat it.

If it ſucceeds, I will make your fortune.

Have you finiſhed the love-letter to your aunt yet, Sir?

I have juſt ſealed it.

Sealed it! what before I ſaw the contents of it?

Why, ſirrah, do you think I want your aſ⯑ſiſtance to write a letter?

But, lord Sir, a love letter is ſuch a dif⯑ferent kind of letter from all other letters, that without great practice, there is no ſuch thing as writing one, eſpecially to an elderly lady—for after a certain period, the taſte becomes ſo callous, it reliſhes nothing that is not ſeaſoned very high—Have you put darts and flames enough into it?

Aye, enough to burn the meſſenger's fin⯑gers.

Then give it to me, Sir—I will ſend it to her Ladyſhip, piping hot, by an old fellow ſer⯑vant, whoſe livery and face, I am ſure, ſhe knows nothing of—Away, my maſters—victory attend us, and laurels ſhall crown us!

There is certainly ſomething in theſe country glaſſes—they make a perfect fright of one—I can't bear myſelf in any of them—they ſhew as little breeding in their reflections as their ſavage owners.

For my part, I don't think they are fit for ſuch a one as your Ladyſhip to look into; in⯑deed they are well enough for a poor ſarvant like me, or your middling folks in the country.

But it is no wonder I look ill—I have have not had an hour's reſt—It was three, you know, before I got into bed, and I had ſcarce clos'd my eyes, when a concert of rooks and pigeons began to ſerenade me, and kept me awake till ſix—theſe ſoft muſicians had ſcarce given me a little reſpite, when the grenadiers march ſtruck up diredtly un⯑der my window—then pop, pop, went the muſ⯑quets for three or four hours, tearing my poor head to pieces, till what with the noiſe and fretting, I almoſt loſt my ſenſes.

Lord, your Ladyſhip, it was Sir John and his ſervants that made all that racket and uproar—He has got a ſerjeant and a drummer from Bright⯑helmſtone to teach him his exerciſe—If your La⯑dyſhip was to ſee him, and Roger the carter, and William the poſtillion, marching and deſiling about, and turning out their toes, and handling their arms, you'd die with laughing. As ſure as can be, the poor gentleman is not right in his mind—the thoughts of this invaſion has turn'd his brain.

A gentlewoman, who ſays her name is Mrs. Bruſſels, deſires to ſee your Ladyſhip imme⯑diately.

Shew her up inſtantly.

As I live, Mrs. Bruſſels the millener, from Saint James's Place—but run Sally yourſelf, and bring her to me; that blundering fool will make ſome miſtake.

She's here, your Ladyſhip.

My dear Bruſſels, this is moſt kind!—who could have expected you at ſuch a diſtance from London?

I muſt reſt myſelf, dear Lady Catherine, without ceremony.—You ſee what a figure I cut—I juſt popt out of the dilly, where I've been almoſt ſuffocated and ſqueez'd to death, between a fat parſon and a greaſy cook wench, who were coming down to Brighthelm⯑ſtone for employment. I have news for you—Lady Betty is brought to bed, and is to be married next Thurſday ſe'ennight.

Seriouſly!

You may depend upon it—but not a ſyl⯑lable tranſpired.

And was there no whiſper—no little ill⯑natur'd ſtories ſpread?

There were a few ſquibs in the news⯑papers, but theſe are ſo common now, that even when they are true, nobody believes them.

Have you heard how Harriet Rattle ſettled her quarrel with Lady Sophia?

In a very awkward manner—The military ſpirit, you know, is grown ſo faſhionable, that Miſs Harriet abſolutely challenged her; and they would actually have ſought, only the perſon whom Lady Sophia had truſted to provide piſtols, diſco⯑vered the whole affair to my Lord, who went im⯑mediately to a magiſtrate, and had both the ladies bound over.

Ha, ha, ha! brave Harriet! what a loſs has the king ſuſtain'd in her being oblig'd to wear a petticoat?

Harriet's conduct was punctiliouſly ho⯑nourable—She ſneer'd at the ridiculous ceremony of binding over; but in order to evade it, ſet off for the Netherlands about ten days ago, leaving this laconic billet with Lady Sophia—"You'll hear of "me at Liſle."

And did Lady Sophia follow her?

Only ſhe was taken in labour, ſhe would; but it is thought, that as ſoon as ſhe is able to travel, ſhe will go off poſt, to prevent her honour being queſtion'd.

You certainly, Bruſſels, are a moſt en⯑tertaining creature, your converſation is a perfect cordial—any thing new in your own way?

Nothing, my Lady, except the thunder caps.

Thunder caps! Heav'ns, Bruſſels, what do you mean? Thunder caps!

They are quite the ton, and all my own invention—So many accidents happen'd to the heads of my cuſtomers this ſummer from light⯑ning, that I have contriv'd caps with conductors in them, which will enable a lady to walk with her head two yards high in the moſt violent thunder ſtorm without danger.

I hope you have brought one with you?

O yes, here it is—

—and, not that I ſay it, as highly finiſhed as any cap from this to Paris—and one I'll inſure ſafe wearing too in all weathers.

Any thing elſe?

No—I have been out of rumps theſe ſix weeks; indeed I don't think it worth waſting cork on 'em now—not one called for from morning till night—I have remarked that ſince the French war was firſt talk'd of, and ſo many new regiments raiſ⯑ed, it has been quite unfaſhionable to make any un⯑natural addition to the ſhapes.

Who brought this letter?

A ſervant in livery, your Ladyſhip, he waits for an anſwer.

You'll excuſe me, Bruſſels.

Tell the ſervant there is no anſwer.

What a tender, delicate, elegant writer! I would not be the death of ſuch a man to be made a du⯑cheſs. I muſt ſee him.

I hope your Ladyſhip has heard no ill news, that you are ſo much mov'd.

O, Bruſſels, read that tender ſcroll, and tell me if I haven't cauſe.

Such a man was framed to make a woman falſe—Then he writes, good Gods! how he does write!

As ſure as can be this is Sir George Nar⯑ciſſus, brother to the colonel.

Then you know him, Bruſſels?

I know his brother of the guards as well as I know your Ladyſhip, but I never ſaw the baro⯑net; I am told though he is one of the fineſt young fellows in England.

O, Bruſſels, is he?

And remarkable for his taſte.

That, I think, he has given a pretty good proof of.

And has got an eſtate of eight thouſand pounds per annum.

O, do not mention that, Bruſſels! for what is fortune to the wiſh of love? "A miſerable bankrupt," as the tender Tancred ſays.

My dear Lady Catherine have you ſpoken to my father about Charles? This moment I heard he was at Brighthelmſtone,—If you would let me flip out to ſee him, I would be back immediately.

By no means Emily, what would your father ſay if you were to go off with Beaufort? A girl with ten thouſand pounds at her own diſpoſal is not to be truſted every where.

But ſure you may depend on my word, when I promiſe to come back.

Lord Child, when the heart is once touch'd, there's no anſwering for a woman's con⯑duct—I can't anſwer for my own in ſuch a caſe. Eh, Bruſſels?

But have you ſaid any thing in poor Charles's favour to my father?

Not I, upon my word—I am determined never to open my lips in favour of ſuch a wild, thoughtleſs, inconſiderate ſpendthrift—He is not like Sir George.

Sir George, your Ladyſhip!

O, the dear man! But you muſt go with me, Bruſſels, I ſhall be in ſuch a flutter, I ſhall cer⯑tainly faint and diſcover that our paſſion is mutual before I open my lips.

Dear aunt, let me intreat your interceſſion in my favour.

I muſt inſiſt, Miſs Emily, that you re⯑tire to your chamber: I wonder you are not aſhamed of expoſing your paſſion for a fellow in this man⯑ner—But I muſt leave you, I have ſo much buſineſs at preſent of my own, that I have very little time to mind other people's—Come, Bruſſels, and help me to prepare for this affecting interview.

Poor Charles! I am the only friend thou haſt in this houſe, and the only one who cannot ſerve thee—If Beaufort has not left the country in conſe⯑quence of my father's ill treatment, he will be your firm friend—Beaufort! how my heart trembles at that name, and how active is fancy, to torment with hopes, which are now no more.

Now we only want a couple of field⯑pieces, and our review will be complete.

Have you ever a pair of jack boots in the houſe?—I think we might make a ſhift with them.

Do you think they will ſtand the firing?

Damme, I'll engage for them as well as if they had tower mark on—I'll tell you a ſtory of a jack boot—The firſt battle I was ever in, being a mere boy, as a man may ſay, you muſt know I was deviliſhly frightened; but a good-natur'd grenadier obſerving my confuſion, whips me off a jack boot from the leg of a trooper, whoſe brains were juſt blown out, and intrench'd me up to the chin in it, in the twirling of a ramrod: as ſoon as I found myſelf, Sir, ſafely garriſoned in the boot, I bent my knees, to take every advantage of my poſt, and damn me if I did not maintain it with the greateſt ſteadineſs till the battle was over, without receiving a ſingle wound but one, and where do you think that was?

Perhaps in the toes—that part of a jack boot I know is apt to go firſt.

It was in the lace of the hind ſirk of my hat, which happen'd to be too much expoſed above the boot to the fire of the enemy.—What do you think of a jack boot now?

Split my drum ſticks, how you do fling the hatchet, Serjeant!

Why do you doubt my word, you dog! I [15] tell you what, Sir John, there's not a man in the regiment but would ſwear to it.

I don't doubt it—I don't doubt it at all, Mr. Drill—for my part, I think the ſtory highly probable.

Probable, Sir! if he gets any body to ſay it is true but himſelf, I'll ſuffer my braces to be cut on a review day, and be content with the black hole for my dining-room.

Ah, you raſcal, you know I can't; the entire corps I belonged to were all cut to pieces; therefore he knows I have not a witneſs living to confront him.

This is another Fontenoy, ſerjeant; he ſays Sir, he was at the battle of Fontenoy at eight years old.

So I was, ſirrah—I went there, with a fife in my hand, and behaved ſo well, that I was pro⯑moted to a drum as ſoon as ever I was able to carry one, and had the honour of ſcourging the whole re⯑giment.

But let us ſee about the boots—Here, Ro⯑ger.

Did your worſhip call?

Yes, bring me the old boots that are hanging up over the chimney in the back-kitchen.

What the mouldy pair, that the rats eat the ſtraps of? I doubt they are not fit for your worſhip's wearing.

What's the matter with them? Have any of you raſcals being drawing them on lately?

Drawing them on, your worſhip! ecod I defy anybody to do that; for they are as ſtiff as a deal board, and one of them would be enough to boot ſuch a one as I from head to foot.

Well, Sir, bring them here immediately.

I wiſh your worſhip would ſend ſome⯑body elſe.

Why what's the matter, you dog, that you can't bring 'em?

Why if I muſt tell your worſhip, Tabby, the cat, kitten'd in one of them yeſterday, and if I was to diſturb her, Margery the cook would play the very devil with me.

What! the cat kitten'd in one of our field pieces?

Zounds! let it be charged at the muzzle, and blow her and her family out at the touch-hole.

But I am afraid to tell your worſhip about the other.

Out with it, raſcal, as you dread my anger.

Why, Sir, about half a year ago the coal-box was burnt, and being afraid to tell your wor⯑ſhip, we cut off the foot of one of thoſe old boots, thinking you would never wear them, and ſo made a coal box of the leg, ſaving your worſhip's pre⯑ſence.

Run and diſlodge the cat, drownevery one of the kittens, but firſt bring me the unoccu⯑pied boot as it is.

One field piece, ſerjeant, is better than no artillery.

So, Madam! I ſee you ſtill continue whimpering?

I cannot help feeling, Sir: it is no more in my power than yours to command the affections.

What buſineſs has a girl like you with af⯑fections?

Did you not countenance Mr. Beaufort's addreſſes? nay, was not the very day fixed for our marriage?

Yes, but I have changed my mind; the fellow was mean enough to prefer fighting with words and parchment in Weſtminſter Hall, to the glorious danger of the field of battle. If he had pur⯑chaſed a pair of colours with his laſt ſhilling, I would have given you to him at once, for he might one day become a general; but he ſhall never have a daughter of mine, till he acquires ſpirit enough to conſider a good ſoldier a better character than the Lord Chancellor.

A gentleman, who came to the door in a chariot, deſires to ſpeak with you, Sir.

Then we'll make ourſelves ſcarce.

Step down to the pantry, and get ſome ſtrong beer and bread and cheeſe to ſtay your ſto⯑machs, and I will diſpatch him immediately.

Come, Tattoo, ſtrike your tent.

Dammee! I'm never in the rear when I'm on the march to Cupboard Garriſon.

Has this gentleman told you his name?

Yes Sir, Enamel is his name.

O, tell Mr. Enamel to walk up.

Then, Sir, I ſuppoſe I may retire to my apartment?

No, Madam, ſtay where you are; I have ſomething to ſay to you preſently—Zounds, here is Mr. Enamel.

Dear Sir, I beg ten thouſand pardons for not being with you ſooner, but I have ſcarce a mo⯑ment [16] [...] [17] [...] [18] to myſelf. Lady Bab Frightful kept me with her for above an hour; and it's as difficult to get away from Lord Toothleſs, as it is to pleaſe him—Be ſo kind as to be ſeated—I'm in a prodigious hur⯑ry.

By all means, Sir, I never want to be bid take a chair in my own houſe.

What the devil can this fellow want with me?

Heavens how I tremble as I approach her.

What can this man poſſibly want with my father?

But do you not know me, Emily?

Know you! O heavens! is it poſſible? Beau⯑fort!

Aye, I ſee they are very badly coloured—but that may be owing to neglect—perhaps you don't uſe water glaſſes after dinner.

Water glaſſes!

But now I mention water glaſſes, it reminds me of a whimſical accident which happen'd laſt week at Lord Whiffle's. His Lordſhip had a large party to dine with him, all people of tip top fa⯑ſhion and my cuſtomers; could not have ſwallowed a mouthful for all that but for me; amongſt others, Lady Mary Made-up, who had got in that day an entire new ſet upon trial from Signor Grinini, they were highly finiſhed, and Lady Mary did the artiſt ample juſtice, for ſhe was upon the broad grin du⯑ring the whole time of dinner.

Oh! that's a mark of good breeding among your people of faſhion.

After dinner as ſhe was ſipping from her water glaſs, an aukward booby of a ſervant joſtled her elbow, and drove the edge of the glaſs with [19] ſuch violence againſt her fore teeth, that the whole ſet bounced into her lap in a twinkling—Every bo⯑dy ſtared, not ſo much at the accident (as it was one might have happened to moſt of themſelves) as at the prodigious alteration it made in Lady Ma⯑ry—her cheeks which appeared as round and as plump as a peach, ſhrunk into wrinkles, her lips fell in, her noſe and chin approached, and from a fine blooming girl of five and twenty—before the cloth was removed, ſhe was hagged into an antiquated maiden of threeſcore.

Ha, ha, ha!—A very good ſtory! 'Sdeath, if it were poſſible for ſuch an accident to befal me, I ſhould never be able to ſhew my face again.

You need not fear, Sir, if you deal with me. But be ſo good, Sir, as to open your mouth a little wider.

Open my mouth a little wider.

A gentle curl upon your cheek, juſt an in⯑clination to a ſmile.

A ſmile! why zounds do you think I am angry with you for telling this ſtory?

Now to amuſe my old friend, while the lovers talk a little.

Ha! John, what's the mat⯑ter? Are you taken ill?

I don't know what's the matter with me, Sir, but I have ſuch a ſtrange unaccountable ſome⯑thing or other come over me.

The devil you have; but I ſuppoſe you have been drinking this morning, you raſcal.

No, no, I am ſure he hasn't—John is a very ſober fellow, but he's very ſubject to fits, one of which he will moſt certainly have, unleſs he gets a little cordial to revive him.

He ſhall have a bumper of brandy, if that will do him any good—Here, Emily, go give this [20] poor fellow a glaſs of brandy; give him two if he will take them.

I ſhall obey your commands, Sir—How fortunate!

Sir, I challenge Europe to match the ſet I have brought—they have the poliſh of porcelain,—the whiteneſs of alabaſter, and the clearneſs and delicacy of pearl; and for ſtrength, from a ſilbert to a walnut, there is not ſuch a pair of nut-crackers in the kingdom, and I'll engage them all genuine elephants.

Elephants! Zounds! ſure this fellow does not think becauſe I am going into the army, that I'll make war like the great Mogul, upon the back of an elephant.

Scarce one perſon in twenty, Sir, has got a decent ſet of teeth.

Damn their teeth, what are their teeth to me?

Why certainly nothing, Sir, you are only to take care of your own.

What is this fellow driving at?

But come, Sir, whatever buſineſs you have with me, diſpatch it, as I can't ſtand chattering nonſenſe with you all day.

Sir I beg pardon for detaining you a ſecond longer than neceſſary.

But I have every thing ready—and will diſpatch you in a trice. Dear Sir, before I begin, I beg to know who gave you that vile ſet of teeth?—if it were public, 'twou'd blow him up—twou'd ruin his buſineſs.

This fellow is as mad as a March hare—why, friend, what is the matter with my teeth?

The matter with them, Sir! you have not one in your mouth fit for a gentleman to open his [21] lips with—one hearty laugh would deſtroy you—I would not venture to fit the faſhionable comedy with them for fifty pounds—but I will give you a ſet that for colour. I defy any black or chimney-ſweeper in the kingdom to match them—Be ſo kind Sir, as to let me take thoſe vile teeth out of your head, and I'll replace them with a new ſet in the picking of an old one.

You raſcal! do you mean to inſut me? Get our of my houſe this moment, or I'll not leave a tooth ſtanding in your head for this inſolence.

What! muſt I go then, without putting in your teeth, or giving you the new left eye I have brought you?

The new left eye!—here's a fellow for you—Don't you think, raſcal, I can ſee better with the eyes I have, than with any you can make me?

Very well, Sir, very well, Sir—I ſhall call upon the colonel, and demand the cauſe of this treat⯑ment.

Colonel—What Colonel?

Colonel Platoon—who ſent me to you from London, deſiring I might call with a complete ſet of teeth, upper and under, and a left eye of the hazle colour—As you had not a tooth in your head, and was blind of an eye theſe ſix months.

So then it is to Colonel Platoon I am indebted for this inſult? But it is no matter, I will have ſatisfaction—he ſhall account to me for this.

Aye, Sir, but who is to account to me for my goods? Is this fine ſet of teeth, and this beautiful eye to lie upon my hands?

Damn your teeth, Sir, and damn your eyes! Get about your buſineſs.

It is mighty well, Sir, it is mighty well. I ſhall charge them to the Colonel.

Charge yourſelf out of my houſe.

Pretty uſage truly, for a man of my figure and profeſſion—I, who if it is only with my cha⯑riot in the ſtreets of London, have made as much noiſe as any man in England;—I Sir, who ſupply half the nobility with teeth, and have my eyes talked of in all parts of Europe—Nay, Sir, 'tis not ſix weeks ſince a Swediſh nobleman offer'd to take one with him to the court of Stockholm, and procure me the honour of the polar ſtar; but Sir, I de⯑clined the honour; I am more of a patriot; what⯑ever my talents are, my country ſhall enjoy them: your ſervant—I ſhall look up to the Colonel for payment.

An impertinent tooth-drawing mounte⯑bank raſcal!—And the Colonel to ſend him to me! 'Sdeath, when ſuch fellows are able to ride in cha⯑riots, by putting in falſe teeth and falſe eyes, how many ill furniſhed and diſorder'd heads muſt we have in the nation.

What is the matter, Sir?

Oh, Sir, Will Skaite the fiſherman is juſt arrived with moſt terrible news.

What is it?

A fleet of French privateers that are now bearing down directly for Brighthelmſtone, and will be here he ſays, before ten o'clock to night. Oh, Sir, our wives and our daughters, our ſiſters and our brothers will be all raviſhed—We ſhall have our throats cut, every mother's ſoul of us, and be laid under diſtribution afterwards.

Aye, I knew how 'twou'd be; I knew how 'twou'd be—here's an enemy come down upon us, without a ſingle ridout or fortification in the whole neighbourhood of Brighthelmſtone to reſiſt them—But where is Drill and Tattoo?

In the pantry, Sir, like good ſoldiers, ſtorming the outworks of a ſurloin of beef, and de⯑moliſhing the cheaveaux-de-frize of a veniſon paſty.

Poſt to them inſtantly, and bid them mu⯑ſter all the recruits they can, and meet me ſtraight on the parade at the White-Horſe ſkittle ground.

Go you, Tom, and ſtation the coachman and poſtil⯑lion, with groom and ſtable boys to guard the out-houſes and ſtables—Bid the butler and Bandy Will look ſharp to his pantry, and tell the cook to diſ⯑patch a party of ſcullions on the ſcout to prevent a ſurprize, while he is dreſſing dinner—I will give orders to Roger the carter to ſurround the front of my houſe with carts, waggons, ploughs and harrows, behind which, I and the garden-men will pepper 'em with the family blunderbuſſes; ſhould we be beat from our fortification, we'll re⯑tire to the great hog ſtie, while the maids ſhall pour down vengeance from the garret windows—And now let Mounſeers come as ſoon as they pleaſe.

ACT the SECOND.

THEY have ſwallowed the bait; the whole family have caught the alarm; ſo I have nothing to do now, but to aſſume my diſguiſe, and to act the fiſherman.

Away!—yonder I ſee lady Cathe⯑rine! 'ſdeath there's another with her; but the fatteſt is ſhe, Charles.

Begone! they are here.

That old fool my brother, fancies we ſhall be invaded to night—and is fortyfying his houſe for a ſiege.

And do you think, Lady Catherine, there is any truth in the report?

Why, I think Bruſſells you are as great a fool as Sir John.—But yonder is Sir George.—What a figure! what a countenance!

Now am I confoundedly puzzled to diſtinguiſh which is my miſtreſs!—Beaufort told [26] me the fatteſt:—but I muſt have had a pair of ſcales to determine that; for, according to ap⯑pearance, there is not half a pound difference;—he might as well have told me the oldeſt, and bad me count my dulcinea's wrinkles to be ſure of her.

I am in ſuch confuſion!—if he accoſts me ſuddenly, I ſhall certainly ſwoon—Why does'nt he come up to us, Bruſſells?

If I ſhould make a blunder it would be the devil!—an old woman never forgives an in⯑ſult to her beauty.

He is a mighty modeſt creature, Bruſ⯑ſells:—do you walk by him, and ſee if he'll ſpeak to you.

Madam, this is ſuch an honor, ſo unexpected.

O Sir! your letter was of that tender, warm, pathetic—

O Madam!—my letter was froſt to the ſcorching fire of my paſſion:—but dear, ado⯑rable, ſov'reign of my wiſhes.—

Ah! what do I hear! what do I ſee?

Sir, you overwhelm—

Madam, conſider the ſervor of my paſ⯑ſion:—the time I have lov'd, tho' I have never divulg'd my flame before—the many tedious days, and ſleepleſs nights it has coſt me, the—

I can hold no longer—O thou baſe, thou perjur'd Sir George!—Is it thus you repay me for granting vou an interview?—Is this your love and tenderneſs for the unhappy Lady Ca⯑therine!—and deſcend to an old milliner too!

An old milliner truly!—marry come [27] up!—there are ſome milliners, I can tell you, are loo [...] up to, when other folks are look'd down up [...] ▪

Juſt as I expected!—but Bronze aſſiſt me—

Is it poſſible that my lovely Lady Catherine is of⯑fended at my reſpectful delicacy for her?

Perjur'd man, do not ſpeak to me.

The moment, I beheld you, every fa⯑culty forſook me; my knees ſhook, my eyes ſwam and I was loſt in delicious confuſion; then turning round and round, to recover myſelf, I ſaw this lady, in whoſe face, I read good humour and af⯑fability,—and who I know to be one of the beſt milliners in England—ſhe, ſaid I, will ſpeak for me—ſhe will break the ice with my dear, but re⯑ſerved and modeſt Lady Catherine.

Then you only wanted Bruſſells to in⯑troduce you to me?

No more upon my ſoul!—ſure you don't think old Bruſſells!—hem!

Mighty well truly!—but we are all at liberty to think for ourſelves.

The vaſt diſparity of your years—

A rude fellow! to talk of years!

Then the nameleſs graces of that be⯑witching countenance!—your ſmiles, your dim⯑ples!—your eyes!—"Oh! were thoſe eyes in heav'n, they'd through the airy"—there is no oc⯑caſion to detain Mrs. Bruſſells longer I believe.

None in the world;—you may go, Bruſſells.

Aye to be ſure, Lady Catherine, I will go.

An old fool! to ſuffer herſelf to be impoſ'd upon in ſuch a manner. He is [28] really a charmingyoung fellow!—but as the old ſaying is, he might have killed two birds with one ſtone.

O Sir George! Sir George! you are a bewitching man!—but how long is it ſince you firſt ſaw me?

It was ſeven months yeſterday, a fort⯑night, and three days.

I think you ſaid ſix in your letter!

Ah Madam, how happy does that ob⯑ſervation make me; there is another proof of my paſſion, it has quite deſtroyed my memory.

Where did you ſee me firſt, Sir George?

At a maſquerade:—and to prove that I am no common lover, I fell in love with you, without ſo much as ſeeing your face.

O yes! I remember I was there in the character of aſhepherdeſs—And how did you know me again?

By that delicate ſhape, Madam, and that impoſſible-deſcribable ſomething, which pre⯑ſides over every look, every geſture, every motion of Lady Catherine.—But when, when, adorable Lady, ſhall I call you mine?

Spare my confuſion, I beſeech you, Sir George.

Cruel woman!—then I find my ſeven months ſufferings have made no impreſſion!—recollect the journeys I have made after you—from London to Bath; from Bath to the Hot-Wells; from the Hot-Wells to Scarborough; from Scarborough to Tunbridge; from Tunbridge to Brighthelmſtone; from Brighthelmſtone—Ha! [29] who is that I ſee yonder—Sir John Evergreen, as I live!

Do you know him?

I did formerly; at preſent we are not upon very good terms. But as we muſt part this moment, when ſhall I ſee you again? [...] night; to-morrow morning; after to-mo [...] [...] next day;—oh tell me when, or I ſhall have no time to hear you.

Then to-night at ten, Sir George.

The devil! I find my aunt⯑miſtreſs is not fond of procraſtinating: I'll meet thee, my angel. Farewell.

But firſt, Sir George, take this pledge of our infant paſſion.

It has my picture let in brilliants.

I take it my love, with—but, zounds, here is Sir John.

Sir George! Sir George! I give you leave before you go.

By Heaven I have not time now,—here's Sir John—I muſt fly.

Oh! the bewitching fellow!—but I muſt be gone too, or this fooliſh brother of mine will be aſking me ſome indelicate queſtions.—I am ſorry the young man was in ſuch a hurry.

Is not that Lady Catherine goes off yonder?

Yes, your honor, I think it is.

Aye, ſhe has been caterwawling here by the ſea-ſide.—And when did you ſee this fleet, Shaite?

Yeſterday morning, your honor, as you'll find by my affidavit before the mayor;—about five o'clock, juſt as the day began to peep, I ſaw ſomething black to the [...]rboard, which at firſt I took for a ſquall; but as the morning began to clear; I ſaw well enough that it was a fleet of ſhips, bearing down upon me with all the canvaſs they could crowd.

Then I ſuppoſe you threw your cargo of fiſh overboard, in order to run the faſter?

No, no; I know the hungry Mon⯑ſieurs too well: if I had done that, they would have ſunk me for diſappointing them of my cargo.

What!—reſerve your cargo for the ene⯑mies of your country! damme, you dog, you ought to be tried by a court-martial for it, and tied up to the halberds for mutiny.

But Mr. Serjeant, yon don't con⯑ſider; we are not all born ſoldiers and brave men, like you and Mr. Tattoo there—I wage war againſt no human creatures, except Turbot, Cod, Lobſters and Mackrel; and provided I have courage enough to ſubdue and take priſoners a ſufficient number of them, I do not envy Alexander.

But proceed Skaite with your rela⯑tion.

Unluckily for me, Sir, one of my boys had tied a red ſilk handkerchief to the maſt head of my boat, in order to dry it; the Frenchmen took this for Engliſh colours, and a ſignal was held out for fighting.

For fighting! why ſure they might have ſeen you had no guns.

Why, [...] the very reaſon they were ſo eager to fight me.—If I had had guns on board, they would have run away the very firſt glimpſe they got of their muzzles—but you ſhall hear—the handkerchief they took for colours, and accordingly diſcharged a full broadſide into me, which carried away my maſt, fails, and rigging, killed every ſoul on board except myſelf, and mangled me in a terrible manner.

Mangled you! why you don't ſeem to have any wounds now!

Ah Sir! if you had ſeen me when I came on ſhore this morning—all the cocks of my hat were ſhot away, ſo that it look'd like a bowl or a baſon on my head; ſeveral balls were lodged in the ſkirts of my coat; my trowſers had more holes in 'em than a cullendar, and I ſhould have loſt my thigh by a muſquet ball, but for a tobacco box in my breeches pocket: however, as if that ball had a ſpight againſt me, it wheeled afterwards into the forecaſtle, penetrated the door of a locker, and broke into fritters a cardivine of choice cognac I had juſt purchaſed from a ſmuggler.

They told you they were coming to Brighthelmſtone?

They did indeed, Sir; and to ſhew you what it is to be encouraging foreigners, they were perſuaded to come here by ſome French⯑men that were down here laſt ſeaſon as ſervants to Lady Oſtrich; who told them there was a power of company here, and that they would: make their fortunes.

I thought ſo, I thought that all this miſchief was owing to our damned Frenchi⯑fied people of quality.

Do you ſpeak French, Sir?

French! no nor one of my family, except my ſon, and him I have diſcarded for ex⯑travagance and diſloyalty.

That's a great pity, ſir; for as your houſe, from its ſituation, is the firſt they will invert, ſhould you not be able to hold out, and come to a parly, what will you do for an inter⯑preter?

You were abroad, ſerjeant; can't you jabber a little?

I never could get beyond parley vou, Sir John.

Nor you, Tattoo?

I advanced to ſee ſignore, ſir, but no farther.

O you are two rare ſcholars. Sir John, I'll go myſelf down to the beach, and watch their landing, bring you exact word of the num⯑bers and force, and tell you whether you ought to fight or capitulate; I'll be your interpreter, for I ſpeak as good Guernſey French as any fiſher⯑man in the Channel.

My dear Skaite, I am heartily o⯑bliged to you; go off then this moment, for you ſee it is juſt dark, and it is fifty to one but they are landed already.

I fly to ſerve you, Sir John,

Now to my maſter and his friends.

Have you given the neceſſary orders, Sir John, for the ſiege?

No, no; I muſt firſt ſee what ſtate my troops are in.—Go you, Drill, and bring 'em before us—here they come! here they come—come on my hearts of gold.

Oh! excellent diſpoſition! now liſten to me while I iſſue my orders—You ſerjeant, and you, friend Tattoo, take poſſeſſion of the garret windows; you ſhall be attended by two chambermaids, to ſupply you with proper utenſils to annoy the enemy in caſe of a ſtorm.—You, Roger, and William, entrench yourſelves with your ſix Iriſh hay-makers, on the leads.—I myſelf will be confined to no ſtation,—I'll be up ſtairs, and down ſtairs, during the whole engagement, and ſee that every man does his duty.—But oddſooks! what ſhall we do with our women?—Do you think they will be ſafe in the parlour?

The parlour, Sir John! if the enemy have any artillery, all the under part of the houſe will be blown away at the firſt diſcharge.

What do you think of poſting them in the wine-cellar.

If there's no danger of their getting drunk, it's the only place of ſafety in the houſe: for there nothing can hurt them, except a mine is ſprung upon us.

And now come on, gentlemen,—march to your ſeveral ſtations: and as you love Old England, roaſt beef, and liberty; and hate ſlavery, frogs, and Frenchmen, behave nobly—Huzza!—Old England for ever.

This is the time Beaufort promiſed to come: I tremble for his ſucceſs, and tho' my li⯑berty and happineſs depend upon it, I feel a ſe⯑cret ſenſe of ſhame at my father's being made ſo ridiculous.—Ha! is not that he coming yon⯑der, and my brother Charles?

My dear ſiſter, have I at laſt liberty to ſee you?

O Charles! I employed every ſtratagem this morning to get out to ſee you: but my aunt, from her averſion to Mr. Beaufort, prevented it.

My dear girl, I am much more con⯑cerned for your ſituation than my own: but I hope you are prepared now, and will let no childiſh fears and ridiculous niceties ſhake your reſolu⯑tion.

You may depend upon me, Charles.—You had ſcarce quitted the houſe this morn⯑ing, Beaufort, when vou were diſcovered:—one of the ſervants knew you through your diſ⯑guiſe, in conſequence of which, I have been lock'd up in this apartment ever ſince.

Keep up your ſpirits, my angel, for I hope to deliver you in leſs than half an hour.

Begone! I hear my father's voice—he and his rout are now coming in at the back⯑gate—farewell dear Charles—Beaufort, adieu!

O Charles! what an adorable girl!—what an eye!—what a lip!—what a ſhape! then her voice!—as ſhe ſpoke to me from the window, by Heav'n, every ſilver accent thrilled down to my very heart, and touched the fineſt chords of love.

Zounds! by theſe raptures, I ſhould ſuppoſe you wanted me to make love to my ſiſter as well as my aunt.

Buſtle, buſtle, my maſters, yonder are you diſguiſes—gird on your ſwords, and mount your whiſkers; then come and be ready to take your cues. I hope you are perfect in your leſſons?

Perfect! I have almoſt broke my jaws with it: ſuch execrable ſounds, ſure, never wounded a civilized ear ſince the confuſion at Babel.

But have you bought off the ſer⯑jeant and drummer?

They are ſecure, Sir. I purchaſed their loyalty with three of the five guineas you gave me to be employed in ſecret ſervices. I gave half a crown to a preſs gang for the hire of their flag till to-morrow morning.—I have en⯑gaged the maſter of a puppet-ſhow to beat the drum, and his merry-Andrew, in caſe of neceſſity, to act the part of a French brigadier general; then, [36] I have a large party of fiſhermen for ſoldiers; and, what few generals can ſay, have ſatisfied my whole army with twenty ſhillings—But dear maſters, begone, and when I wave my hand, come to me.

—Now general Cameleon art thou on the eve of finiſhing a moſt glorious campaign—If I reduce this garriſon, I ſhall get into good ſnug winter quarters for the reſt of my life. But hold, hold! what if I ſhould be obliged to raiſe the ſiege? What if the enemy ſhould make a fally, and fairly defeat me? why then "farewell to the little good my maſter will "do for me! farewell the good hot dinner! the "ear piercing bell! the royal firloin, and all " pride, pomp, and proſpect of good eating! and "oh ye round-paunch'd landlords, whole fiery "faces dread Jove's red lightning counterfeit, "farewell! Cameleon's wages and his place are "gone!"

I have heard nothing yet which de⯑notes their near approach. Holloa, Drill, did you hear any thing yet?

Heard your honour! I am almoſt ſtunned with their artillery.

Well ſaid, ſerjeant; that gun was well levelled.

The devil you are! why I have not heard ſo much as a ſingle maſquet go off.

That's, ſir, becauſe you have loſt your hearing with the noiſe.

Why I hear you very well.

But I am obliged to roar to you as if I had a ſpeaking trumpet at my mouth, and repeat [37] the ſame thing over twenty times before you take the leaſt notice of me.

Aye! why now this is very ſtrange, that I ſhould loſe my hearing with a noiſe I never heard.

Now is the time to give him the alarm,

Sir John, Sir John, they are come, they are come.

I know it, I know it, my good friend! But prithee are there great numbers of them?

Numbers, your honor! they are as thick as a ſhoal of herrings: but did you ever hear ſuch a dreadful cannonading?

Drill tells me it is terrible, and ſo it muſt, for I have loſt my hearing by it.

Harkee now, ſir; there they go again, ſir; there again, ſir. Lord o'mercy, will they never ha' done?

Now am I ſo deaf, Skaite, that I don't hear a word of all this cannonading,

O yes I hear the drums now, I have got my hearing again.

I thought, ſir, ſomething was the matter with you, for I was bawling to you half an hour before you heard me.

But what's to be done, Skaite? Do you think we ſhall able to ſtand out a ſiege?

Lord, ſir! how can ſuch a thing enter into your head? If they once throw a bomb or two, they'll blow up your houſe, family and all, in a few minutes.

Lord! what will become of us poor ſervants?

Why ye raſcals, what reaſon have ye to complain, when your maſter is blown up along with you?

Dear ſir, think of ſomething; yonder they come; I hear their drums, and can ſee all their ſwords and muſquets gliſtening thro' the trees with the moon-beams.

Zounds, as an Engliſhman, I can⯑not think of giving up my caſtle, though they do blow me up.

But, ſir, have you any regard for other people's lives.

It will be too late, ſir, if you don't ſpeak immediately, for I ſee they have ſtopped, and ſent off two heralds to treat with you. What do you ſay, ſir, ſhall I ſpeak to them for you?

Well! ſince you will have it ſo, with all my heart.

Apropos, here they come.

Zounds, their two heralds are ſtrap⯑ping dogs; what whiſkers!

Contenterongtee cawpitulee ou in⯑ſtant [...]e blownuppowſi?

It's juſt as I told you, ſir; he aſks, whether you'll capitulate, or be content to be blown up inſtantly?

Then you may tell him we will ca⯑pitulate?

Capitulongtee, Maiſieur.

Parblieu! quelle monye give he'll it up pour ranſummit him?

He bids me ask how much mo⯑ney you will give to ranſom yourſelf and family?

Why I have not a great deal of money in the houſe: ask him how much he will take? But let me ſee now, you'll make a good bargain for me.

I'll do the beſt I can for you to be ſure.—Demande votre ranſummond.

Poundong, thouſanong, fifteenong.

What is that he ſays: Does not he ſay he will take fifteen pounds?

Ah! Sir! I wiſh he did. He aſks fifteen thouſand.

Fifteen thouſand! why, that is al⯑moſt the price of half my eſtate.

Deſcende cu [...] toute famille, & romport [...]monny.

He bids you, Sir, come out with your whole family, and bring the money.

Why, you know I can't ſpeak French; tell him I will ſettle the buſineſs where I am.

Lord, Sir! why will you croſs him, If he once falls in a paſſion, he will cut off my head, then what will you do for an interpreter?

Ha! non deſcenderotée? Noo cowperong vote headon, non deſcen [...]ong inſtanto.

O dear Sir! for the love of mercy come down, or you will ſee your poor Skaite laid as flat as a ſlounder.—Come down, come down. Sir! for till you do, I ſhan't be ſure my head is on, my ſhoulders.

Well, tell him I'll come down.

Il deſcendero, oh! reverend, & venerawle.

Oho! oho! nous inſtructo manero.

Now, ſir, what do you ſay to your Cameleon?

My Cameleon! my Hermes! my Apollo! my god of Invention! I'll erect, a monu⯑ment to you, ſirrah, in your life time; and when. every body is praiſing your, parts, you ſhall be as rich and happy as a blockhead.

But mum! the citadel is thrown open, and yonder comes the governor with the keys.

Sir John, Sir John! how could you be ſo raſh to open the doors?

Why, zounds, are you afraid they will take you off to France with them?

O which is the interpreter?

Here, madam, at your ſervice.

O dear ſir, tell them I have no mo⯑ney at preſent about me, but if they'll wait till I ſend to London, I'll give 'em two of my appren⯑tices as hoſtages, till my ranſom is paid.

Come, come, Sir John, have you brought the money down?

I have brought all I had in the houſe, here it is.

Ten thou⯑ſand [41] pounds in good India bonds, my poor girl's fortune.

Aye, let me have 'em; I'll try and make 'em take even this trifle,

O dear Mr. Skaite, isn't this to ranſom us all?

Ranſom yon all! 'ſdeath, madam, have you no more conſcience than to impoſe upon theſe gentlemen, becauſe they are foreigners?

I ſuppoſe they will now lay the whole town of Brighthelmſtone under contribu⯑tion.

I am perfectly ſatisfied with the money I got here, and provided you will conſent to an union with my deareſt Emily, will never take a ſhilling of it out of the family.

Now do I think it wiſeſt, for fear of ac⯑cident, to lodge the money in a place of ſafety.

What am I then trick'd, robb'd,—but do not think I'll tamely ſubmit to this; I'll try the law inſtantly, I'll—Will no one fetch me a conſtable?

Have you forgot that your daughter has ten thouſand pounds independant of you? But, Sir, to ſhew you that I cannot take a mean, or ungenerous advantage, I'll return you your money, and throw myſelf entirely on your gene⯑roſity.—Here, Cameleon.

Aye, try my generoſity.

Did your honour call?

Yes, give me thoſe India bonds.

What bonds, Sir?

The bonds you got from Sir John Evergreen this moment.

Ay, my bonds, my bonds, ſirrah.

Lord, Sir! what can you poſſibly want with them.

Come, Come, Cameleon, no trifling: give them to me.

You muſt excuſe, me, Sir; my fortune as well as yours, depends upon thoſe bonds—If I give them up, Sir John will never give you his daughter, and I ſhall loſe my reward.

You wiil be hang'd, you dog, if you don't give 'em me.

But I know I ſhall be ſtarved if I do.—Now, Sir, as I look upon ſtarving to be a certainty, and hanging but a probability, I'll keep the bonds, and ſet the gallows at defiance.

Get me the bonds, Beaufort, and I'll give you my daughter, immediately.

Don't do any ſuch thing, Sir John.

My Lady, this other French gentleman deſires to ſpeak with you.

Have you forgot, Sir George, Lady Ca⯑therine?

Sir George! ſure it isn't poſſible?

Mum, madam, as you value your reputation; I am no Sir George, but plain Charles Evergreen, your nephew.

My nephew!

The ſame, madam; ſo take the hint: tell my father you have paid my debts, or this picture, madam—you underſtand me.

O perfectly. Upon my word, Sir John, this is a moſt extraordinary accident. We have got Charles here.

What, my ſon Charles! where is the dog? let me come at him.

Upon honour you muſt be recon⯑ciled to him. I have paid all his debts.

Have you? then give me your hand, Charles; I forgive you, my boy, with all my heart; I never had the leaſt anger towards you, only I was afraid our reconciliation would coſt me too much money.

Well, Sir, I am happy to have been the inſtrument of ſo much good fortune, and I hope it will be the means of reſtoring you to your ſen [...]s.

'Sdeath, I believe you are the very fellow who want [...] [...] rob me of my grinders.

The [...]ery ſame, ſir.

You are the dog that would have had me part with the ſafeſt friends I have; old acquaintance: that during an intimacy of ſixty years ſtanding, damn me, if one of them ever turned out hollow. Hark ye, Beaufort, ſince you are to have my daughter, I muſt inſiſt upon one thing.

Only let me know your pleaſure, that I may comply with it.

Then, ſir, my pleaſure is, that your firſt ſon be bred a ſoldier, that we may have one military man at leaſt in the family, to fight for his country, in caſe of an Invaſion.

The French invade us, Sir! Lord how could ſuch a thought ever enter your head? Sir, if in⯑ſtead of reviewing your houſehold troops, you were to take a view of our different encampments, where the moſt noble and gallant ſpirits of the land have aſſembled volunteers in the ſervice of their country, you would be convinced, ſhould France be daring enough to attempt an Invaſion, ſhe would find it a more ſerious piece of buſineſs than the innocent laugh of this night.