SCENE I. A ſuperb hall, with a grand ſtair-caſe, illuminated by chandeliers. The Maître d' Hôtel on the top, at the drawing-room door. Footman, be⯑low, calls—

BARON Steinberg's carriage is ready. Maît. d' H.

Baron Steinberg's carriage.

The ambaſſador's carriage!

Lord Lackwit's coach.

Your Lordſhip will go?

Good night to your grace!

With ſubmiſſion, my Lord, do you know that impertinent perſon?

Certainly: ſo do you. It is Conſol; the great Court and City Broker.

Pardon me, I tranſact buſineſs with him; but I don't know him. I wonder our friend Do⯑rington admits ſuch people.

Oh! He is the right hand man of the whole Peerage!

And of the Baronets to boot, Sir Pertinax.

Yes; We have him in turn.

Under correction, the man has all the vul⯑gar inſolence of wealth, newly and knaviſhly ac⯑quired.

Very true. The fellow makes himſelf quite familiar. By the bye, our friend here lives in prodigious ſplendour.

Blow me to atoms! Immenſely rich.

His Weſt India property is incredible.

Then his generoſity of ſoul! Humph: Hay? Damme! Unbounded! Humph?

With great deference

I wiſh he had a little more diſcrimination.

What, our friend above?

Surrounded by a ſelfiſh ſet!

Oh! A vile crew!

Each, I preſume, has a deſign upon him.

To be ſure! That is natural.

One borrows his money.

Another his in⯑tereſt.

A third makes his houſe his Hotel: Humph?

A fourth hopes to trick him into marriage.

A fifth picks his pocket by gambling.

He has not one true friend.

Well, he can afford it! Do you take me? Humph? Hay? Damme! Humph?

You are all wrong, and he is right. You do not underſtand calculation. He has a ſcheme! A plan! Popularity! Parliament! Penſion! Place!

And perhaps Prime—Humph? Hay? Do you take me? Damme! Humph?

Why does he give ſuch dinners? To ſerve himſelf, to be ſure! I never aſk a man to dinner, that I do not mean to get ſomething by.

I believe you.

Believe me? Ay certainly! You do the ſame. Why here, now, do I ſtand prating to you! What do I get by it? Nothing. Then why do I ſtay? Becauſe I am a fool! If you wanted forty or fifty thouſand now, upon good ſecurity, and were pinched into a premium, it might be worth my while: but you are a ſly filcher. There is nothing to be got by you: ſo, good night. Sir Pertinax: the Mortgagee will be at my houſe at two to-morrow.

I will not fail.

Dorington knows what he is about. Never aſk a man to dinner, that you do not mean to get ſomething by. Never!

A very contemp⯑tible ſcoundrel!

A pitiful raſcal!

No ſoul! Humph? Hay? Damme! Only means to pick our friend's pocket, Humph? Hay? Do you take me? Damme! Humph?

Why now, Major, you hope for pro⯑motion through Dorington's intereſt.

Who, I?

Aided by his purſe.

Blow me to atoms! I?

I ſpeak it with great deference, but you have petitioned him.

Mr. Curfew, you have a very polite way with you; otherwiſe—But you have remarked how hot I am.

Pardon me, I never ſaw a man more cool.

You are pleaſed to compliment—Stir but my blood and—Gentlemen, I will tell you a ſtory.

Pray do not.

An affair that happened between me and Herr General Von Dondertronc.

I will be gone. My feelings will not ſuffer me to ſee my friends make themſelves ri⯑diculous.

I know your feelings are prodigiouſly troubleſome to you, Sir Pertinax.

It is my misfortune. Major, go on with your ſtory. You tell it excellently, and often. Adieu.

I chanced to affirm at Laudohn's Levee (I ſerved the Emperor at that time) to affirm that Frederic the Great commanded the right wing, in perſon, at the battle of Prague. Mein Herr, ſaid Von Dondertronc, very reſpectfully taking off his hat (I give you his manner and phraſe) Mein Herr, you am a committa miſtake a. Carnage and gun⯑powder, General, ſaid I, interrupting him, do you mean to tell me that I am miſtaken? Von Dondertronc was as daring as he was polite. Herr Mayor, ſaid he, for this von littel timea you am a commita miſtake a—He knew it was ſigning his [5] own death warrant, damme! Humph? Hay? Yet he ſaid it! Blow me to atoms, ſaid I, a bar⯑rel of gunpowder! Quick! And a fire-brand! Humph? Hay? Do you take me? Damme! Humph? Contradict me?—Sir, the gunpow—

With humble ſubmiſſion, Major, you ne⯑ver tell this ſtory twice the ſame way.

Gentlemen, the gunpowder was brought.

The laſt time, you ſaid that, luckily, there was none in the Camp;

Body of Belzebub!—My Lord, it was an affair of honour. Laudohn, the Generaliſſimo, attended to ſee that all was in rule.

You ſaid he put you both under arreſt.

Blow me to atoms! Sir, do you tell the ſtory.

With ſubmiſſion, Sir, I never tell ſtories that I do not believe.

No, Sir? Why then, carnage and flames! you are no ſtory-teller. Humph?

Come, come, be merciful, my dear Mr. Curfew. The Major's ſtories, like himſelf, are very inoffenſive.

I? A ſoldier inoffenſive! Blow me to—Humph? Hay?

Nay, is it not a ſoldier's duty to keep the king's peace?

Right! Your Lordſhip is right! Humph? Hay? Damme! I know a ſoldier's duty! Humph?

Hola! Where are my raſcals?

Order my carriage.

It is at the door, Sir.

Mr. Curfew, you are a very polite—Humph? Hay? Do you take me? Damme! Humph?

Excuſe my temerity, but I do not take—

You beg pardon and make conceſſions very apropos. Humph? Hay? My Lord? Damme! Humph?

With great deference, I make no con⯑ceſſions; and ſhould be glad you—

Sir, my carriage is waiting. Sir,

I know a ſoldier's duty. Do you take me? Humph? Hay? Damme! Humph?

Of which retreating is a very eſſential part.

With ſubmiſſion, Sir, you are no ſoldier.

Calm yourſelf, my good Mr. Curfew.

Under correction, my Lord, I am calm.

Ha, ha, ha! Your contradiction and the Major's acquieſcence are very amuſing.

With deference to your Lordſhip's ſupe⯑rior judgment, I deny what you ſay.

I knew you would.

With humble ſubmiſſion, of that I doubt.

Very well, Mr. Curfew.

Excuſe me, it is not very well. I am not amuſing, and have leſs contradiction than any man breathing.

I perceive, Mr. Curfew, you perfectly know yourſelf.

Pardon me, I do not know myſelf.

Diavolo! There is no pleaſing you, Mr. Curfew.

Under favour, no man is ſo eaſily pleaſed.

Ha, ha, ha! Right, Mr. Curfew, very right! You have it every way! You are neither this, that, nor the other: every thing and nothing: the moſt facetious, melancholy, complaiſant, rude, polite, pleaſant, impertinent perſon I ever beheld. [7] Under favour, with humble ſubmiſſion, and beg⯑ging your pardon. Ha, ha, ha!

My Lord! I preſume to tell you, though a Peer—

What is the matter, my good Sir?

Let me ſee you to your carriage.

Not yet gone, my Lord?

Who can quit ſuch good company?

You are a little malicious, I ſuſpect. You are an adorer of Olivia; and wiſh to rival your friend here?

Let him, if he can.

Ten to one, now, to-morrow morning, you will tell her I am handed to my carriage, by her lover; nay, will inſinuate we have had a tête a tête. You love miſchief.

It is my ambition to vie with your Ladyſhip.

Me? Oh no! In the art of torment⯑ing, I do not know your equal. Good night. Be cautioned.

And ſo, my dear Mr. Curfew, as you were ſaying, you are the nonpareil of perfection.

With ſubmiſſion, I was not ſaying any thing.

Oh! What, you were loſt in aſtoniſh⯑ment, at the gallantry of Dorington to Lady Taun⯑ton? Well, well; don't mention it to your Ward! She is ſcarcely a being of this age. Accuſtomed to your perfections, ſhe has no indulgence for theſe faſhionable accommodations. Bon ſoir! But don't tell Olivia.

Pardon my preſumption, Sir, but I muſt ſay the perſons I meet, at your table, do very little honour to your choice.

That, Sir, is your opinion.

Allow me to remark, candour is my cha⯑racter; and there is not one among them but is knave, or fool, or both.

May be ſo: what then, Sir?

In my humble judgment, he that aſſociates with ſuch renders himſelf their equal.

Pſhaw! [...] I will aſſociate with no man who is either knave or rool, I muſt cage myſelf at once. Nay, I muſt never look in a glaſs; for fear I ſhould happen to meet one where I leaſt expected it.

Under correction, you, Sir, can diſcover merit where other people can find nothing but de⯑formity.

[...] Sir, under correction, I have a plea⯑ſure, which [...] ſorry other people want.

I am [...] for my Ward's ſake.

Nay, nay, leave her and me to ſettle thoſe points.

Pardon me, my ſcruples muſt be quieted.

I thought I had quieted them all, when I agreed to leave her fortune in your hands, without intereſt, for a term of ſix years after the day of marriage.

Excuſe me, I am not ſo eaſily ſatisfied.

So it appears.

Olivia begins to have her ſcruples.

Ha, ha, ha!

With ſubmiſſion, your laugh is unmanner⯑ly; and I believe ſhe is inclined to break off the match.

Good night, Sir.

Permit me humbly to remark—

Not a word more. Whenever I perceive a Gentleman obſtinately bent both to give offence and to take offence, I leave him: leſt I ſhould follow a bad example.

Sir, I humbly preſume I never give a bad example. I never take offence: and he that ſays I do is a—a—a

What?

Good night, Sir.

Ha, ha, ha!

Zo. A be al alone at long length. Now, an I had but the audacity to unboſom my mind to'n!

Herbert! Why do you ſtand there, my honeſt fellow?

I be a guaing, zir.

Did you wiſh to ſpeak to me?

Why, if zo be as I might be zo bold.

Ay ſurely! What ſhould you fear, my good friend?

Don't ee cal I your friend: I be but a poor Devonſhire lad.

Poor, Herbert? You are the heir of landed property: of which I expect you will very ſhortly be in poſſeſſion.

Ay, ay; you ha' bin to law: a drowing away a deal o' your own money, to get me a little o' mine.

Why, what a contemptible fellow muſt I have been, Herbert, could I have ſeen you and Annabel, your orphan couſin, robbed, by a wicked and rapacious executor, and not have done you both right! Speak honeſtly:

would you have ſeen me ſo uſed?

Don't ee ſpeak ſo kindly to I. I do zee you worſe uſed every day of my life; and I can't help it, nether! Al a begging and a borrowing! and you a never zaying nay! Money! Money! I do zee well enough, avore they've adone, they won't leave you a morſel to put i' your mouth.

Having been once in want, Herbert, thou art always in dread of it.

Ees zure! I war uſed to play at pinch⯑belly, and now the game is choak-throat!

Well, Herbert, to ſhew thee that they ſhall not have all, here, take this; carry it to the poor tradeſman, whoſe goods thou knoweſt were taken in execution.

Marcy goodneſs! A hundred pounds?

Tell him to pay his debts with half; and to increaſe his little ſtock with the remainder.

A hundred pounds!

We give five hundred for a bauble, to glitter on the finger. Shall we refuſe one, to reſ⯑cue a dozen human beings from famine, and im⯑priſonment?

Zurely! Zurely!—Well may couſin An⯑nabel zay, you be the kindeſt, beſt, and moſt ge⯑nerous gentleman i' the whole wordle.

Not half ſo good or ſo kind as herſelf, Herbert.

Why, tho'f ſhe be my couſin, I can't but zay, a's a kindly zoft zoul.

Well, is ſhe ſatisfied with her friend, and protectreſs?

What, Miſs Olivia? Marcy dear! How can ſhe be othergueſs? Why, ſhe cals couſin Annabel ziſter; ay and ſhe treats her more reve⯑rently, by half, nur many a ziſter would. But now do 'ee, Zir, bethink you avore hand that, when [11] you ha' giv'n al away, you'll ha' nothink vor yourzel.

Well, make thyſelf eaſy, good Herbert; when I have time, I will conſider thy advice.

Nay but, I do beſeech you, don't ee ſtay till then. No; don't ee, don't ee! Miſs Olivia herzel begins to be mortal uneaſy about it. And I am zure couſin Annabel and I could never reſt in our graves, if as any miſvortin ſhould betray you. I do hope you beant angry wi' I for my audacity; but indeed, indeed, I do love your gracious kind⯑neſs, as I do love my two precious eyes. So pray you now, for God's love, bethink you! Do'ee! Do'ee! Do'ee!

Thomas! Pay my coach.

Heyday!

SCENE III. Enter HAIRBRAIN.

Well, Dorington, here am I!

Hairbrain! What the plague brings you always at ſuch unſeaſonable hours?

Damn hours! What have you or I to do with hours? Time is all ſoul! If not, he is a ſneaking ſcoundrel; and I would kick him out of company.

Why did not you come to dinner?

Why did not you invite me?

So I did.

Pſhaw! When you ſent the card, you ſhould have accompanied it with an old coach and a new coat.

Did I not?

No: you only ſent me money, to hire one, and buy the other; and I had a different uſe for that. But come, draw me a cork; inſtantly. Here! Thomas! A bottle of Burgundy! The [12] beſt, you ſly dog! I am in fine flavour—Doring⯑ton! I am a made man! You ſhall drink a pint bumper to me! The greateſt event!

What mad whim now?

Baw! Damme now, Dorington, none of your dampers! I am high in luck, high in ſpirits, and could leap over the moon. You muſt let me have five hundred directly.

Is that all?

Oh I would not accept one farthing more. Th s is no rhodomontade! A rational ſober plan! By only advancing five hundred pounds, I am to be ſecured in a thouſand a year!

Indeed!

Certain! Damme, ſaid I, Ned Hairbrain, you are a lucky fellow! 'Twill juſt do you! A thouſand a year, you happy dog, will make an emperor of you! Quick! Quick, you tardy raſcal, and ſecure it!

A thouſand a year?

Yes. What ſhould I want with more? I will pull up! No more mad freaks! I will be an orderly, ſedate, conſiderate, putt! I will go to bed at ten, get up at ſix, eat poſſet, ſcold my ſervants, and wear a ſcratch! Oh! You ſhall ſee ſuch a reform!

And who is to ſecure the payment?

Oh, the ſecurity is undeniable!

How do you know?

Know? Proof poſitive! The advertiſer himſelf told me ſo.

The advertiſer?

Yes, A. B. No. 13, Knave's Acre. All my fear is that I ſhould let it ſlip.

I will anſwer for that.

Oh, damme, it will be ſnatched at! Give [13] me the money: it will be gone! A. B. told me he has already had five applications: mine was the ſixth! But I pleaſed him. He gave me the pre⯑ference. My honeſt good-natured phyz ſtruck him.

But who and what is he?

You have heard, no doubt, of the pilula ſalutifera?

I? Not a word!

Not Alexander Mackenzie, my coach⯑man?

Never.

Sore throat! Complicated evil! Deplora⯑ble ſtate! Waiting his diſſolution! Now as well as ever he was in his life!

Miraculous!

Reſtoration! Grateful thanks! Daily prayers! Tears in his eyes!—A. B. Knave's Acre—He is the man! Lamp at the back door.

A. B.?

Yes. His are the genuine pills! T'other is an impoſtor. A wonderful diſcovery! One doſe is ſufficient! Profits prodigious! Make a cart-load for a crown: ſell a ſingle box for a guinea!

Prodigious indeed!

And for 500 l. I am to be taken in, as a ſleeping partner.

What ſhall I ſay to thee, Ned? Arguments I know are vain: yet to throw money thus ab⯑ſurdly away is painful, to be tricked out of it con⯑temptible, and to become a vender of poiſon by proxy not much to a man's honour.

Ah, damme, I knew how it would be! I am not to be truſted! I have no diſcern⯑ment! I tell you it is a certainty! The man is ho⯑neſt. I thought I knew you, Dorington, that you [14] would have taken fire! Would have flown to aſſiſt ſuch a fellow! But—Good night!

Stop, Ned!

A kind thing done willingly is done doubly.

Will you hear?

A friend is one thing; a refuſal is another.

Convince me, and you ſhall have the mo⯑ney.

No, damme! I have been rich; I am poor; but, though my coat has faded, my ſoul is the ſame! 'Tis an evergreen.

Why, Ned! Ned!

SCENE I. The Houſe of CURFEW.

OH, ho, you romantic creature! Ha, ha, ha! Pure undivided hearts? Do you think our handſome fellows and fine wo⯑men trouble themſelves about pure undivided hearts? Lud! They know nothing about hearts. They have no hearts.

Nor heads neither, perhaps?

Oh, no! They have no uſe for them. Thinking and feeling are out of faſhion.

Well, they muſt at leaſt be allowed the vir⯑tue of candour.

Oh, yes! To glory in our failings is the eſſence of good breeding. Hypocriſy and af⯑fectation are laughed out of doors.

I wiſh folly and effrontery had kept them company.

Oh, you cruel thing! What would become of perſons of faſhion, without folly and effrontery? They would loſe their exiſtence! They would be out of countenance at every word, and bluſh at every thought!

They are in no danger: bluſhes and bloom are become mere articles of perfumery.—Your Ladyſhip dined in Brook-ſtreet, yeſterday?

Oh! With Dorington? Yes. Do you know, I begin to think him a very charming man. I envy you. But—is the match quite certain? Is there no chance of rivalling you?

Your Ladyſhip is the beſt judge of that.

Why, I really feel half inclined. I don't know but I may. Beware of me: for, if I ſet about it, there is danger. I aſſure you, he was very attentive; and I was very much pleaſed. I never ſaw a man more gallant.

I ſhould have hoped you had never ſeen one leſs.

Indeed! And why, pray?

A man attentive to the happineſs of others I delight in; but a gallant man is a vender of falſe⯑hood by ſyſtem.

Dear!

And a character I deſpiſe.

I proteſt you are jealous!

No. I can renounce; but I cannot conde⯑ſcend to ſuſpect.

Well! I declare, I had not the leaſt in⯑tention to put you in a flurry!

A flurry? Ha, ha, ha!

Nay, nay, laugh out! What, you can't? Well, well, I own, you have reaſon to be alarmed. We, who, from our childhood, have been uſed to move in the firſt circles, have always ſomething faſcinating in our manner.

Your manners are very marking, indeed.

I muſt be going. Good morning. But it is very true: rank will carry it againſt riches. So, if any thing ſhould happen, do not indulge theſe violent emotions; nor do not pout, and com⯑plain, like a city miſs, that your friend has betrayed you, becauſe her attractions had the power that yours wanted.

Complain? No, no! I am not ſo totally a Novice as to complain of unexpected treachery, in a Lady of faſhion.

It is very ill bred to be jealous. It is a confeſſion of inferiority. Good bye, my dear. I ſee you are not well: I will ſend ſomebody to you. Good bye. Remember.

Why this is admirable! Can Dorington en⯑dure theſe manners? Can he countenance, can he eſteem, or, what is worſe, can he affect to eſteem, nay, can he coquet with this faſhionable Lady? If he can, his heart and mine have no affinity. I ſeem to have been moſt miſerably miſtaken.

SCENE II. Enter ANNABEL, haſtily; with fear.

Dear Madam! What is the matter?

With whom?

Lady Taunton bade me run to you; for ſhe ſaid you were in a fit!

Better and better!

Why did ſhe tell me ſuch an untruth?

For the joke's ſake, I ſuppoſe.

Oh the wicked!

Sneers and inſults are become the common⯑place jeſts of a certain ſet; who may aptly enough be termed high low life. And with theſe Doring⯑ton aſſociates! Theſe are his friends! They never ſhall be mine.

Law, now you are angry again; with mine and my couſin's dear protector!

The juſt, the feeling, the delicate mind I only can admire. The ſweet intercourſe of intelli⯑gent and pure ſouls revolts alike at trivial unmean⯑ing gallantry, clandeſtine love, and that audacious vice which ſets cenſure at defiance.

Dear now! I would not be jealous of my poor Herbert for—

Annabel, you do me wrong: I am not jealous. Mine is a more dignified motive.

Dignified motive, dear Lady, is a fine name, but I doubt it is what moſt people call jea⯑louſy.

Annabel, I forgive this injuſtice to your friend.

Ah, Madam, I love you dearly! Dearly! Indeed I do! I am ſure my Herbert's Dorington and you were made for one another.

No; we are not! I never can, never will be the wife of the friend of—depravity and vice.

SCENE III. Footman and Lord LAROON.

Lord Laroon.

Madam, your moſt obedient. I paſſed Lady Taunton at the corner. Has ſhe been viſiting you?

She has.

Ha, ha, ha! Well, her Ladyſhip is certainly the higheſt bred woman in the kingdom. Ah, my ſweet Annabel!

Pooh! I brought your couſin in my carriage.

Herbert! Where are you?

Come in, Herbert!

Ay, come in. Was not I kind? I dare ſay, he will let me have a kiſs?

Your pardon vor that. Wi▪ us, Lords, tho'f they be Lords, don't kiſs country couſins.

But what is the high breeding of Lady Taunton?

Breeding? Breeding? Oh! I recol⯑lect. I thought it had eſcaped you. A very mark⯑ing trait. Her very firſt viſit, in the morning, to the Lady whom, over night, ſhe had been endea⯑vouring to undo.

Undo?

Undo? No, no! Undo was thewrong word. Too ſtrong. Rather too ſtrong. I merely meant rival.

Well, well, her Ladyſhip's ſucceſs is cer⯑tain.

You do not think ſo.

What can an "unfiniſhed, ſcarce half made up," ſimple creature, like myſelf, oppoſe; to all a faſhionable Lady's borrowed beauties, and bought perfections? Hair ſheared from the dead, teeth plucked from the living, a ſhape beſpoke of a man⯑tua-maker, a complexion purchaſed in Spain, grace imported by figurants, taſte by Italian fiddlers, ele⯑gance by French courtezans, and manners im⯑proved by the polite converſation of grooms, and the attic wit of gamblers!

Very true! And I fairly tell you, this formidable train ſhe now brings to the attack.

How condeſcending in her Ladyſhip! How kind in you! Yet, ſhould ſhe ſucceed, I do not think your Lordſhip would feel any exquiſite pain?

How ſhould I? It has long been my ambition to make you a peereſs.

Commoner as I am, how ſhall I return the obligation! Eſpecially when I remember your friendly endeavours to promote a quarrel, between me and Dorington?

Only for the good of all parties!

Oh! To be ſure! Then perhaps, to an⯑ſwer this charitable end, a little deviation from the truth now—

No! Upon my honour! I have a wit⯑neſs. Herbert!

My Lord.

You can teſtify?

What can I teſtivy?

Did not you ſee my dear friend hand Lady Taunton down the ſtair-caſe?

May hap I did!

Herbert! Be quiet!

And may hap I had as lieve a' zeen zum⯑mut elſe!

Be quiet, I tell thee!

And how long had the company been gone?

I can't tell.

Leſs or more than half an hour?

I can't tell.

You ſee, Madam, that charming hand⯑ſome huſſey is bribing him to ſilence.

I ſee, my Lord, all that you or Lady Taun⯑ton could wiſh: and, what is more, it has pro⯑duced [20] the very effect you both intended. Preſent my compliments, therefore, and tell her ſhe need not tax her own ingenuity or your friendſhip far⯑ther. Tell her, ſhe may declare it, as my avowed reſolution, never to be the partner of a man whoſe principles do not forbid him that dalliance, that hypocriſy, which he may call good breeding, but which I know to be vice.

Ha, ha, ha!

I wonder that, being a Lord, you are not aſhamed to raiſe jealouſy, and quarrels, between true lovers!

Charming innocent! Ha, ha, ha! I ſhall make love to you!

Begging your pardon, but you ſhan't tho'.

I have a pretty tale to tell you.

Don't ee believe 'n, Annabel! Don't ee be⯑lieve a word he zays! I zee nothing but fibs in his face! Come away!

I ſhall meet with you alone; and then!

What then? What then? Did thee ever zee ſuch ſheameful doings? Wilt come?

Why are you vexed, Herbert?

What did thee let him look at thee zo vor?

‘Nah! Never mind his looks. What if he be a Lord, and offered me watches, and rings—’

‘Did he? Did he?—I wiſh I'd a heard 'n! That's al!’

‘I would rather walk in the fields, arm in arm with my Herbert, than ſwing ding, here and there and every where, with a Lord in his cha⯑riot.’

‘Would thee, Annabel? Would thee?’

‘You know I would, Herbert. So, you [21] ſhould not be jealous. Oh, it is very bad! Very bad to be jealous!’

"Well, well! I won't!" Come thy way. Come.

SCENE IV. The Library of DORINGTON.

Indeed, Sir, you are miſtaken. You at⯑tribute intereſt to me which I do not poſſeſs. I have no view in the company I keep, and the din⯑ners I give, except conviviality.

Excuſe me, this would be a very proper apology, or put-off, to your Major, or ſuch people; but not to the guardian of an heireſs.

In my opinion, Sir, it would be much leſs proper to the Major, than to you.

Sir!

You have money and friends; he has nei⯑ther. You are childleſs; he is the father of a family.

And, for this reaſon, he is to be ſerved rather than me.

Could you deſire a better?

In my humble judgment, Olivia has a hundred thouſand pounds; and I am her Guar⯑dian!

Ha, ha, ha! Nay, nay, I mean no offence.

SCENE V. Footman, introducing Major RAM⯑PART.

My dear fellow, good morning! Mr. Curfew, I am your humble ſervant.

Under correction, Sir, I know no ſervice you can do me.

Humph? Hay? Oh! I take you! As pleaſant and full of contradiction as—

Your pardon, Sir, I—

Come, come!—Major, I have ſeen your friend.

Have you, my boy? Humph? Hay? Damme!

The buſineſs is in a fair train.

Blow me! Humph? Hay? Damme! Do you take me? Humph?

But, we muſt not yet think it ſecure.

With ſubmiſſion, I do not take you.

Body of Belzebub! Rank, Mr. Curfew! Riſing! The ſtaff! Who knows? Commander in chief! Sea and land? Humph? Hay? Blow me! I have the great requiſites! Do you take me? Humph? Hay? Damme! Fire and—! Humph?

With much deference, there is one great requiſite, at leaſt, which you want.

Humph? Hay? I!

Perſonal courage, though ſeldom tried in a General, ſhould always be poſſeſſed.

Blow me! You are right! Oh! Damme▪ Humph? Hay?

Cowards, I have remarked, are generally fools.

Right again! Damme! Humph?

The firſt to affront, and the firſt to be afraid.

Always, Mr. Curfew! Always!

The firſt to threaten, and the firſt to run away.

Humph? Hay? Oh! I take you! Dam⯑me!—Harkye, Mr. Curfew, you're my friend's friend, or,—Blow me!—Keep your tongue, dam⯑me—! [23] Humph? Hay? Leſt you ſhould be choaked in ſwallowing your teeth! Do you take me? Damme! Humph?

What! Is this humble Guardian gone?

Beat a retreat, damme! The firſt to af⯑front, and the firſt to be afraid! Humph? Fumes and—! Humph? Hay? Damme? Humph?

I heard part of your dialogue: he is un⯑worthy your anger.

Laſt night the ſame! Damme! Humph?

SCENE VI. CONSOL, Lord LAROON, Sir PER⯑TINAX PITIFUL; introduced.

Good morning, gentlemen. Well, what is the news?

Nay, that you muſt tell us. A king's meſ⯑ſenger arrived laſt night. Harkye; let me ſpeak a word.

Brave news for me! Humph? Hay? Another ſtep! Colonel in contemplation! Dam⯑me! Do you take me? Humph? Hay? Humph? Dorington is my friend! Humph?

Oh, yes! He is the friend of every blockhead he meets.

Blockhead?

Of Conſol, for inſtance!

And Curfew? Oh, damme! I take you!—Carnage and death! I ſhall be a great com⯑mander! Another ſiege of Prague! Humph? Did you ever hear my account of the ſiege of Prague? Damme! Humph!

Yes; a hundred times.

Here the enemy! There the ditch! Mo⯑raſs on the right! River on the left! Double tier of artillery! Batteries maſked! The word Glory! [24] Fire! Bomb! Thunder! Blow me to atoms! Humph? Hay? Do you take me? Damme! Humph?

Why, Major, you are gunpowder it⯑ſelf!

Blow me! Humph? Hay?

But gunpowder can flaſh in the pan.

Flaſh?

Nay? It can kill too!

Oh! I am anſwered! Blow me! Humph?

Yes; like your own charger, you prance under the laſh; but are too well curbed to reſent it.

Curbed?

By your good ſenſe.

Ha, ha, ha! Be merciful, my dear Lord! I feel for my friend, the Major.

Soldiers are profeſſionally valiant. Some of them tell us, they have killed more than they have eaten.

My Lord, I take you! Damme! Humph? You wear a tongue! So does a woman! But keep it in its proper Guard-room! Set your fears ſenti⯑nel over it! Blow me! I'll have it up at the hal⯑berds! Do you take me? Damme! Humph? Hay? Humph? Though you are a peer of the realm! The halberds! Blow me!

Really, my Lord, I feel for you. The Major is not ſo great a coward as you ſuppoſed.

Good morning. If you hear any thing that will touch the ſtocks, my dear friend, diſpatch a meſſenger! I'll pay coach-hire.

Yes, Mr. Conſol, we all know your generoſity.

Do you? Then you know more than I do: and that I doubt. Generoſity is an Aſs! When I give, it is to get.

Why, I do not believe your charity, by day, will diſturb your reſt, by night, Mr. Con⯑ſol.

No, my Lord: and yet my charity is as great as ſome people's good manners.

Nay, don't be vexed! You are a good Man—at Garraway's, by inch of candle.

I wiſh your Lordſhip were a good man any where!

Your reputation is eſtabliſhed.

My reputation is in my pocket.

Oh, yes! A rich rogue is always a damned honeſt fellow!

At leaſt, I know nobody ſo poor, either in purſe or principle, as to think of borrowing from—hem.

Nay, now you are too ſevere: I am your friend.

I know you are. But I am aware of you. When a man profeſſes himſelf my friend, he always intends either to inſult or to trick me. I know the world: I always ſuſpect my friends. Good morrow. I know the world.

Ha, ha, ha! Your Lordſhip is out of luck this morning.

And you feel for me?

I do. 'Tis ſtrange how utterly void of ſenſibility, moſt men are!

All men, Sir Pertinax, have not your refined thrillings!

No: mine are my misfortune.

And other people's miſ⯑fortune too.

They are too exquiſite!

They are intolerable.

I have a requeſt to make.

Indeed! How will you give it utter⯑ance?

A favour to aſk our friend.

Ha, ha, ha! Is it the firſt?

No; and therefore requires the more management.

Ay, ay. The more ſenſibility? The more gratitude? The more obligation? Ha, ha, ha!

It does. Will you accommodate me?

And be gone?

I ſhall ever gratefully remember the bene⯑fit, you ſo generouſly confer.

Zounds, Sir Pertinax! Grateful to me too?

It was the will of Providence to form me ſo.

Gentlemen, I beg your par⯑don.

No apology mine is a mere How do you do? viſit. Sir Pertinax tells me he has a load of obligations to diſcharge; ſo I will leave him to lay the burthen at your feet. Your ſtrength will be quite ſufficient, he ſays, to relieve his ſhoul⯑ders. Adieu. Oh! Shall you be at the Dow⯑ager's rout this evening?

I ſhall call in, to ſee the company.

Ha, ha, ha! It will be prodigiouſly ſe⯑lect! Peers and pickpockets, boobies and black legs, male and female. I ſhall be there.

The faro bank would elſe want its chief ornament.

You beat me at piquet, the other night.

And me.

For a wonder!

Shall we have our revenge?

Perhaps. I can't promiſe.

Adieu. You will be there, Sir Per⯑tinax?

Without fail.

Huſband your ſenſibility. You have a large ſtock: but diamond mines themſelves may be exhauſted.

From his Lordſhip's hints, I collect, you have ſomething to communicate?

My dear friend, I have. But his Lord⯑ſhip is ſo unfeeling, he has quite deranged me. I know your philanthropy. You do not, like him, delight to torment. You are my kind, my dear, my open-hearted friend.

For heaven's ſake!

I knew it! I knew his Lordſhip's diſtreſ⯑ſing raillery would jaundice the ebullitions of the ſoul! It is cruel! It is really cruel! Very cruel!

Shorten your exordium; come to the point.

I cannot! Yet—it would lay me under eternal obligations! Serve me eſſentially!

Well?

You have an inexhauſtible ſhare of the milk of human kindneſs! I know you never re⯑fuſe a tried and true friend.

Sir Pertinax, I ſhall join with his Lordſhip, and begin to ſuſpect.

Why look you! Upon my ſoul! Upon my honour! The devil take his Lordſhip! But it is always the ſame! You never will endure the truth! You will hear any body praiſed, but your⯑ſelf! That is your only fault.

I muſt bid you a good morning, Sir. It is ſuffocating!

You ſhall not leave your friend in anger! Your dear, your obliged, your everlaſting friend! Is a heart overcharged with gratitude hateful?

Overcharged gratitude generally ends in enmity; or ſomething worſe. Do good, and receive good, whenever you can; and make the performance of your duty the teſt of your inte⯑grity.

I will, I will. And happy am I to re⯑ceive inſtruction from ſuch a friend. You have convinced me; it is my duty to receive good. I feel the morality! I will venture to communicate my wants.

I am all attention.

You generouſly lent me 5000l. to pay off that curſed mortgage.

True.

It got wind. Creditors heard I had caſh. Writs were out; and, unfortunately, I am only a Baronet.

Proceed.

I cannot! It looks ſo like—You have the beſt heart in the world!

Name the ſum.

I—really—my feelings—

Zounds! Speak.

Two thouſand more.

Is that all? You ſhall have it. I ſuppoſed the whole five had diſappeared.

I wiſh I had known that! Oh! I am a curſed Aſs!—I am glad my liberal-hearted friend will find it no inconvenience.

Why, to that, I know not what to anſwer. I have been ſo prodigal lately, and am ſo prodi⯑gal ſtill, my principles make ſo many juſt demands [29] upon my purſe, and my paſſions ſo many falſe ones, that—But this is a queſtion I have conſi⯑dered. Your family has produced many high⯑minded and excellent men. You have a ſon wor⯑thy of anceſtors whoſe virtues live, while they ſleep in peace. To reſcue his patrimony from the gripe of uſury, and give it a chance of becom⯑ing beneficial, I willingly grant what you aſk.

My kind, my incomparable friend! I feel theſe painful pleaſing ſcenes too intimately! They depreſs and wound, elevate and heal—! There is no deſcribing!

Sir Pertinax!—Have not I told you, you ſhall have the money?

Oh my heart!

SCENE I. The Houſe of CURFEW.

IF your Lordſhip hopes to torment me by theſe tales, you miſtake the means. I grieve at Dorington's conduct for his own ſake, not for mine.

Why grieve for any body's ſake? The Dowager is a perſon of faſhion. Her rout is fa⯑ſhionable; her faro bank is faſhionable. All the world was there.

For which ſome of them, I fear, are now execrating all the world.

A dozen, at leaſt, among my own par⯑ticular friends. Lady Hotwater was terribly cut! Her laſt ſtake was a deſperate venture. Her frame diſtorted, her cheeks livid, her hand pal⯑ſied, ſhe cut a card, loſt, ſhrieked, fell in a fit, was carried out in convulſions, and is this morn⯑ing parted from her huſband. It was a high ſcene.

You ſeem to have enjoyed it?

Oh! It was in a great ſtile.

You no doubt were on the right ſide?

Me! I am a partner in the bank.

And was Dorington a loſer?

Ha, ha, ha! That now is pleaſant. I knew you would aſk. The fact is, he is in for it, to ſome purpoſe. I don't know the ſum. Bills and drafts handed about by wholeſale.

You are his dear friend?

I am.

Why did not you prevent him?

Oh Lord! Ha, ha, ha! I and Sir Pertinax got him to piquet, and touched him for ten thouſand.

Beſide his loſs at faro?

Oh! yes. Sir Peter is a deep ſchemer! He completely wiped off an old ſcore of ſeven thouſand. I have draughts for three in my pocket; which I ſhall preſent to-day or to-morrow. Are not you ſorry?

More for his loſs of morals than of money. To the latter his fortune is equal.

Pardon me! To prodigality like his no fortune is equal; for he gives and lends more than he loſes.

And you his intimate friends, encourage him in ruin?

My dear Madam, what is it to me, if my friend be diſpoſed to ruin himſelf? My time would be well employed, were I to preach max⯑ims of wiſdom to all who chooſe to play the fool. I muſt tell every man I meet he is a blockhead; and get my throat cut fifty times a day. Doring⯑ton is my dear friend; but, like many more of my dear friends, he is a damned—.

SCENE II. DORINGTON introduced.

Ah! Dorington? This is quite apro⯑pos! You were the laſt man in our mouths. You cannot imagine how many things I have been ſay⯑ing in your praiſe. Have not I, Madam?

You have ſaid a great deal, I own.

Yes: I was telling her what bad ſuc⯑ceſs you had laſt night.

Was that in my praiſe?

To be ſure. What does a hero, like you, mind the loſs of a few thouſands? Your half⯑ſouled fellows, on ſuch an occaſion, will take opium over night, and a piſtol the next morning: but you bruſh ſuch trifles from your mind, as your footman does powder from your coat.

When I am coward enough to commit ſuicide, it will not be for the loſs of money.

I love your ſpirit. I know no young fellow who has ſo much. When ſhall I preſent the draughts?

Whenever you pleaſe. Why do you aſk that?

You remember the ſum?

How ſhould I forget?

How indeed! If it will any way oblige [32] you, I will forbear a day or two. I am in no im⯑mediate want of caſh.

And I am in no immediate want of your forbearance.

Nay, don't take pet at my being will⯑ing to accommodate.

Why ſhould you think I need accommoda⯑tion?

Is it ſtrange that I ſhould wiſh to oblige my deareſt friend?

Yes; when your deareſt friend has no inclination to be obliged.

I am really ſincere. I have no ma⯑lice.

Yes, you have; and I do not like you the worſe for it. You are a high-flavoured ſauce; a mixture of you is reliſhing.

We all have our uſes. I the ſauce, you the turtle.

On which you have the cunning to cut and feed? Yet you are no conjuror.

Conjurors are ſcarce. I muſt ſly: a hundred calls to make: I ſhall ſee you at dinner. Adieu. Don't quarrel.

This dear friend of yours is in full ſpirits.

I never knew him otherwiſe. A very magpie; always hopping and chattering. 'Tis a quality I like in him.

Is there any other quality for which you like him?

Yes; his frank honeſt ſatire.

To torment is his ſtudy.

And he is a maſter of the art: a proof of his genius.

He ſpares neither friend nor foe.

If he did, I ſhould deſpiſe him. What [33] the heart thinks let the tongue utter. Knaves and cowards only fear its freedom.

He has made tolerably free with you.

With all my heart. I am fair game; and he is a fair ſportſman.

Not too much of that. He adviſes me to break with you; and offers to dignify me with a coronet.

Ha, ha, ha! There is merit even in his impudence.

And are you not offended with him?

Not in the leaſt.

Do you eſteem me ſo little?

Fie! I eſteem you ſo much. Your under⯑ſtanding is of too high an order.

To marry him, when I may have you?

Yes.

Frank, at leaſt.

Certainly. I deſpiſe hypocriſy. Why not as freely ſpeak good of myſelf, when I think it, as of another?

Or ill?

Ay; or ill. I have faults as many as you pleaſe: but I have ſomething that will hide them all.

Be not too confident. A ſingle cloud will conceal the ſun.

That is a miſtake. A few acres I grant may be overcaſt; but his rays, at the ſame inſtant, ſhine refulgent on the remaining world.

Leſs poetry, and more prudence, might perhaps be as well.

Not in your eyes.

You ſeem very certain.

As I am of my own heart, which beats in uniſon with yours; or I never could have admired, [34] never could have loved you as I do. I confeſs your coldneſs this morning a little ſurpriſes me; and might alarm, were I leſs acquainted with the juſtice and the dignity of your mind. My laſt night's follies offend; and with reaſon.

They are indefenſible; they are degrading; and yet, comparatively, they are trifles.

Indeed?

The loſs of wealth only ſtrips vanity of her plumes: but the loſs of principle covers us with contempt.

Granted.

To preſerve our good temper, when the profligate and the abſurd ſurround us, is as worthy of the ſage as the man of the world: but to ſmile approbation, to ape their hypocriſy, and be the high prieſt of their nocturnal orgies, is to be ambi⯑tious of infamy; and to renounce the love and the ſociety of the good.

A dreadful ſentence.

But inevitable.

Well, I am now in haſte; but, in the courſe of the evening, I will call, liſten to reproof, kiſs the rod, and adore the chaſtiſer.

I may happen not to be at home.

I'll venture that. Good morrow.

This ſelf confidence is inſulting! Con⯑ſcious as he is of a diſſipated ſpirit, male coquetry, and depravity of manners, can he ſo familiarly talk of the uniſon of our hearts? When he is preſent, he faſcinates! I have but one reſource: I will avoid him! Former affection ſhall not ſubject me to future wretchedneſs. Let me be any thing rather than the wife of one whom paſſion prefers; but whom the underſtanding rejects.

SCENE III. A drawing-room at Dorington's. A large company aſſembled. Lord LAROON, Lady TAUNTON, Sir PERTINAX PITIFUL, Major RAMPART, Mr. CURFEW, &c.

Ladies and gentlemen, I am glad to ſee you! My blundering ſervants are late with the dinner. What is the news?

I hear there has been a great ſtorm at ſome of our Weſt India Iſlands; in which hun⯑dreds, ſome ſay thouſands, of the inhabitants have periſhed.

Poor wretches!

Your poſſeſſions are all there. You may well feel intereſted.

That is but natural.

I hope, my Lord, without pretending to any uncommon degree of benevolence, I ſhould feel a greater deſire to ſave the lives of men than my own poſſeſſions; the produce of which, I fear, I have hitherto put to a very indifferent uſe.

That is noble, damme!

The ſentiments of a refined and feeling heart!

A Mr. Hudſon is below, Sir; and deſires to ſee you immediately.

Mr. Hudſon! Is it poſſible?

Show him up. A worthy and well in⯑formed man; and, though my agent and manager in the Colony, will not diſhonour this good com⯑pany at table.

Oh, let us have him.

He brings papas, pines, and ſour⯑ſops, ſugars, rums, and riches.

His converſation will enliven! You take me? Damme! Humph? Hay? Humph?

He will enable you to defy thoſe mighty conquerors, Hazard, Piquet, ay and Faro himſelf.

SCENE IV. Enter HUDSON.

Welcome to England, Mr. Hudſon! But what brings you ſo unexpectedly? My affairs, or your own?—Why are you ſilent? How left you Barbadoes?

A deſolate and barren wilderneſs!

Deſolate?

How?

The particulars are for your private ear.

Oh! Oh!

You take me! Humph?

Huſh!

Your news I perceive is bad: ſpeak out.

Pardon me, Sir, I muſt not.

Whoo! The devil!

Be quiet!

Speak, I ſay. The moment to be explicit is favourable. I am ſurrounded by my friends.

Are theſe good Ladies and Gentlemen all your friends?

All! All!

Oh, yes; we are all his friends.

His dear, his feeling, his affectionate friends.

And are come to dine with him.

With ſubmiſſion, you may ſpeak out.

I have your leave, Sir, but not my own.—This is a ſerious moment. Bethink you, Sir. Men who give dinners do not infallibly invite their friends.

Very right, Mr.—Barbadoes: you come I think from Barbadoes?

SCENE V. CONSOL without.

Where is he? Where is he?

Have you heard the news? Is it blown?

No! What is it?

It's all over the City!

What? What?

You are ruined, Sir! Ruined paſt all hope!

Indeed?

Bombs and thunder! Humph?

Is it poſſible?

I ſhall ſink!

Pray let us hear.

Your vaſt eſtates all ſwept away, like duſt before the wind.

How? How?

A Tornado! The like was never known.

Dear, dear!

I ſhall never ſupport it!

It is very ſhocking.

Speak, Mr. Hudſon.

Ay, ay, for heaven's ſake let us hear!

Be delicate! Be tender! Reſpect our feelings!

Mr. Hudſon, I again ſeriouſly requeſt you will at once relate all that has happened.

Arm yourſelf with fortitude!

Fear me not; ſpeak.

I am in the horrors already.

My poor dear friend: how I feel for him!

Nurtured in ſplendour, encouraged in waſte, accuſtomed to ſcatter with a prodigal muni⯑ficence. [38] You are now the moſt deſolate, the moſt helpleſs of men.

Ha, ha, ha!

What will become of him!

My heart bleeds!

A thundering fall! Damme! Humph?

Spare your comments and your regret, Sir, and to the point—Go on—There has been a hurricane?

A wreck of nature, rather! Sweeping de⯑ſtruction, and prodigies unheard! The miſery is general; though on that ſide the Iſland where late your fruitful lands were ſituate moſt complete. Your ponderous veſſels, mills, ſtores, and build⯑ings, were wreſted from their diſtracted beds, and ſwept into the ſea! Your vaſt domains loaded with vegetation, incredible to tell, were torn up and whirled like chaff to the clouds; leaving be⯑hind mephitic lakes, whoſe ſtench infects the air! Univerſal nature was convulſed! The elements all waged horrible war; while heart-rending and intolerable cries, roars, and howlings, made the burſting thunder ſeem a whiſper.

Blow me to atoms! The ſiege of Prague, Damme! Humph? Hay?

Were many lives loſt?

Numbers were hurried through the air, and daſhed againſt the rocks; or overwhelmed by the mad and incomprehenſible ocean.

Miſerable men! Numbers ſay you?

Warned by the Caribbs, and the alarming phenomena that preceded, many put timely to ſea, of whom I was one. But ſtill the Negroes and the Poor remained.

Ay, ay! The Negroes and the Poor.

It was very affecting.

It would have been too much for my ſenſibility.

I am glad I was not preſent.

Had I been there, Damme! Do you take me? Humph?

In my humble opinion, if you had, you would not have been here.

Why ſo! I am now, what in the vanity of my heart I have often wiſhed to be. Put to a mighty trial. Let me then collect my thoughts, and not at this criſis yield to paſſions, at which Manhood ought to ſpurn.

He is confoundedly down in the mouth! I will be gone: he will want to borrow money of me.

Under favour, I do not think ſo: he knows you better.

His intereſt with the great is all flown! There is nothing now to be got by him! He is a dangerous acquaintance! I will go.

Will not you ſtay and dine?

I cannot, Sir. Exceedingly ſorry! Buſineſs muſt be minded—Harkye! A word! A thought has ſtruck me. Your's is a hard caſe. Open a ſubſcription, make me your banker, and I will promote it. I will do more for you! I will put down a nominal hundred, at the head of the liſt! You underſtand me? Nominal. That is between ourſelves. It will—

Stop, Sir—Ladies and Gentlemen, here is my generous friend, Mr. Conſol, propoſes a ſubſcription for me, with a large promiſe of per⯑ſonal ſupport, ay, and a nominal hundred at the head of the liſt; provided he may be my banker! [40] What ſay you to his dignified project, and his no⯑minal liberality? Are they not worthy his great ſoul?

Quite in character.

Juſt what I ſhould have expected.

Pardon me▪ but I ſhould have expected a demand of brokerage.

You are all damnably charitable, I war⯑rant! I know the world, and I know you!

With ſubmiſſion, you ſeem to know your⯑ſelf too, honeſt man.

As honeſt as you, or the beſt of you! As honeſt as the law makes me. He that is more is a fool.

Such delicacy of ſentiment!

Such dignity of principle!

A conſcience ſo convenient! Humph?

Why as for that, all the world are agreed: every man's principle is to get all he can, keep it as long as he can, and pay his juſt debts when he can't help it. "So that, if I had the privilege of Peers, I ſhould make juſt the ſame uſe of it that they do:

only I ſhould not have the impudence to cant about my honour."

That is home! Damme! Humph?

I ſhall leave you all to ſhew how much ho⯑neſty, ſentiment, conſcience, and principle, you have more than myſelf! Your ſervant,—your very humble ſervant!

'Tis ſtrange what a reſpectable air ſincerity gives, even to a ſcoundrel!

Unfeeling brute! Our dear friend's caſe ſo diſtreſſing too!

So unexpected!

I am quite unwell with the ſhock! I muſt retire.

Nay, ſeeing me ſo diſtreſſed, you will ſtay to conſole me.

What can be done? I am extremely ſorry, my Lord, that you and I won the ten thou⯑ſand pounds.

So am I really.

It wounds my delicacy beyond expreſ⯑ſion!

It is quite diſtreſſing.

I know his high and over ſcrupulous ſpirit would ſpurn at the propoſal, or I ſhould con⯑ſult my feelings, and—

Pſhaw!

Yes! I knew it!

Oh, he will accept no favours!

That is his only fault. But really I muſt withdraw; it is too much for ſenſibility like mine! I cannot give it utterance! Think, my dear friend, what paſſes here at this trying moment! Ah well a day! Alas! Oh heavens! Adieu.

Upon my honour, Sir Pertinax is monſtrouſly moved.

It would move a heart of ſtone.

I forgot to mention that, at this critical moment, I am quite out of caſh. And it would wound me to the ſoul, were you, as you have every right a never-ending friendſhip can be⯑ſtow, to requeſt a Loan. I ſay it would cut me to the very quick to be aſked: for ah! Hard neceſſity! I muſt refuſe.

That is exactly my caſe.

And mine.

Damn'd ſorry! Do you take me? Humph?

Theſe are my feelings; though perhaps rather too coldly expreſſed.

Yes! I believe we are all in the ſame predicament.

All! All!

Caſh cannot be commanded: but we are extremely ſorry for your misfortunes.

Very ſorry indeed.

Kind friends! How can I repay ſuch ten⯑derneſs! Yours, Sir Pertinax, is truly a moſt me⯑lancholy ſtate! I ſympathize with your ſufferings! A heart ſo ſuſceptible! So prodigiouſly generous! So dangerous ſincere! Nay, nay, aſſuage your griefs!

Ha, ha, ha! Vaſtly well!

Your tears diſtreſs me!

Ha, ha, ha!

Adieu, thou moſt immaculate of friends! One laſt embrace!

Ha, ha, ha!

So much for ſenſibility.

With ſubmiſſion, Sir Pertinax is a very contemptible perſon.

A horrid ſycophant.

Such a hypocrite!

Damme! Humph? Hay? Humph?

And do you, my dear friends, think Sir Pertinax was the only contemptible perſon, the only ſycophant, the only hypocrite in company?

I would by no means affirm ſo bold a thing as that. I can only anſwer for myſelf.

Your Lordſhip is amazingly polite.

Oh a ſneering—Humph! Hay? Blow me! Humph?

But leſt you ſhould accuſe me of hy⯑pocriſy, I will be very ſincere. You are a ruined [43] man; and I need not tell this good company that a ruined man is a perſon that nobody knows.

That is a thing of courſe.

No want of friendſhip in that.

But this is a trifle; for you will ſoon know nobody.

Your reaſon?

A very obvious one; you will ſoon loſe your ſenſes.

How, and why ſo?

Only for your own convenience. Taſting and ſmelling will go firſt. Becauſe, as you know, faculties not exerciſed are loſt. Creditors will next come to your door: animals that have very diſcordant voices. They will clamour, vocife⯑rate, and poſſeſs the miraculous gift of making you deaf. They will inſolently demand why you are a—Hem!

Sir?

They are ſhocking hard-mouthed ſcoun⯑drels.

Ha!

Why you are—hem—and they are ruined? Here you will be ſtruck dumb!

Proceed.

They will meet you in the ſtreet: and while their eyes ſhall be riveted upon yours, you will be ſtone blind.

Humph! Why moſt men's organs are de⯑fective; you for inſtance have a moſt exquiſite taſte and ſcent at a friend's table.

But never at his own. Blow me! Humph?

Then if your moſt intimate acquaintance be traduced, no man's ear more open! But if com⯑mended, you are inſtantly as deaf as an adder! I did not ſay as venomous.

He has it! Damme! You take me? Humph?

With reſpect to viſion too, I have known you diſtinguiſh a Coronet, on a Coach, at a prodigious diſtance! Yet unable to ſee a poor relation, though he bruſhed your elbow as he paſſed!

He can't deny it.

Well, Ladies and Gentlemen, by this time we have tolerably well explained ourſelves: you have nothing more to hope from me; and I juſt as much from you.

Very ſorry.

But how can it be helped?

Be under no concern! We are perfectly agreed. I am as little diſpoſed to accept as you are to offer. I ſhall indulge in no reproach; for I feel no ſurprize. I took you for neither better nor worſe than you are. Epithets mean but little: I call my dog Caeſar; and I have called you my friends: but I did not perſuade myſelf that either you or Caeſar were Romans.

Your philoſophy is exquiſitely polite.

It is adapted to my company.

Let us be gone. I preſume we have our good friend's permiſſion?

To conſult your own inclination in all things, dear Madam.

I am prodigiouſly ſhocked and con⯑cerned! I am indeed.

I am dumb founded; damme! Humph? Hay? My friend? Do you take me? Humph?

Oh, no doubt we all compaſſionate your caſe!

For my part, I have only to remark with [45] great deference, that I cannot, Sir, give you my Ward.

Your reaſon, kind Sir?

Becauſe, might I hazard an objection, you are a beggar.

Can no conſideration bribe you?

With ſubmiſſion, none that you can offer. I am ſorry, but it is no fault of mine. Your very humble ſervant, Sir.

Thou laſt and deareſt of my friends, fare⯑well!

Why ſo! The farce of great⯑neſs is ended; and the taſk of Man begins—'Tis the poor wretches whom the afflicting heavens have left ſhelterleſs that demand our pity. Wretch⯑ed ſufferers! Would my loſs had been the ſole misfortune!

I am glad, Sir, you meet it with ſo much fortitude.

Not with ſo much but that I am fool enough to feel it. My cheriſhed hope, the paſſion of my heart, is cruelly aſſaulted. But, I know thee, Olivia! Thy pure and dignified love not even this can ſhake.

So may it prove! Yet the ſcene I juſt have witneſſed makes me doubt.

Ha, ha, ha!

Your forbearance, with theſe your falſe friends, is to me unaccountable. I could have trampled them to duſt.

And thus have reduced yourſelf to their level. What! A battle with chimney ſweepers? Manhood and common ſenſe forbid!

Nay, but malice ſo undiſguiſed!

What of it? Shall I be angry that inſects buzz and ſtrain to puſh forth ſtings they never had? [46] Or ſhould they blur the mirror that reflects my face, ſhall I fancy it deformed?

After a life of ſplendour, to become the daily butt of inſult and contempt?

Bugbears for children! This man ſhuts his pocket, and that his door upon me: one overlooks me: another eyes me as ſteadily forgetful as the ſtranger that has neither borrowed from my purſe nor eaten at my table. Is this worthy my notice? Is it my misfortune or theirs that the firſt is mi⯑ſerly, the ſecond mean, the third imperious, and the fourth a mere ſummer-fly, that began in a muckworm and ſo will end? What, chagrined be⯑cauſe I am not like them? Oh, no, no!

I own I cannot think like you.

Mere want of thought. Who would make himſelf the Tantalus of fools, or the foot-ball of fortune?

We are ſo in our own deſpite.

Rather by our own endeavours. Equal to every change the man of fortitude remains un⯑moved, when, moſt depreſſed, feebler ſpirits ſink; or, moſt exalted, flutter. In proſperity he exults not: he ſhrinks not from adverſity. He doubts if there be adverſity; except to the impotent and un⯑wiſe. Souls are diſtinguiſhed by their qualities; and the day of aſſault is, to him, the fortunate day in which he proves his rank.

To whom? Poor and deſerted, who will notice, he aſks not teſtimony: for if he did, when, where, how often ſhould he meet minds capable of doing him juſtice? Conſcious and ſecure in himſelf he needs no other proof.

Mr. Demur is below, Sir.

I am coming.

He brings intelligence I have already heard. My honeſt Herbert, an oppreſſed orphan, has gained his cauſe. Why this dilates and fills my heart. I have loſt an ample, a ſuperfluous, fortune; he has gained a ſmall one, but a competency. I ſhall make him happy! Him and his Annabel▪ Why what a miſery-minded reptile ſhould I be, were I not, this very moment, to rejoice in his good fortune!

SCENE I. OLIVIA and ANNABEL.

LAW, now, what if Lady Taunton was invited to dinner again! Where is the harm?

You talk in vain, Annabel. I know my⯑ſelf. The heart that can unite with mine muſt be pure as infancy, gay as youth, unſhaken as man⯑hood, and benevolent as wiſdom in ripe old age. If it can ſully itſelf with the vices of contagious cuſtom, if it can deſcend to aſſociate with—Faugh! My ſoul ſickens at the very image.

Well, I am ſure, all England could not ſhew his equal; except my dear Herbert.

My whole ſoul would be my huſband's! It would hover round him, dwell on his lips, live in his eyes, attend on, watch over, take flight with him; ſuffer, rejoice, laugh, weep, and feel every affection his noble heart ſhould feel! And none but a noble, none but a magnanimous heart could yield delight to me.

Dear, dear, I am very ſorry! I can't tell what to ſay! I am young and know but little; yet I very much fear ſuch over nice notions do but make people misfortunate.

I grant, Annabel, as my love is immea⯑ſurable, ſo is my ſenſibility. A cold, an indiffe⯑rent, a divided heart? Oh! it would give me tor⯑ture inexpreſſible!

SCENE II. Enter CURFEW.

With ſubmiſſion, Ward, may I ſpeak a word with you?

Certainly, Sir. Leave us, my dear Annabel.

I preſume to aſk a favour.

What is it?

With great deference, Dorington is un⯑worthy of you.

I begin to think him unworthy of any wo⯑man, poſſeſſed of delicacy or dignity of feeling.

Under correction then, promiſe me to break with him.

Promiſe?

With much humility, did you know all, you could have no heſitation.

Can there be any thing more offenſive than what I already know?

Infinitely!

What is it?

Pardon me, I muſt forbear. It would ſhock you to hear.

Indeed! Is he ſo very a Man of the age? Is he ſo deep in depravity? I renounce him.

With humble ſubmiſſion, you have great cauſe.

For ever! For ever!

Under favour, I will give orders to the ſervants that you are no more at home to him. Robert!

Sir—This eager haſte—Robert, if Mr. Dorington ſhould call, ſay—ſay—I—I—

Why do I feel this reluctance, this weakneſs? [50] No! I will not yield! My underſtanding ſhall not be enſlaved and inſulted by my affection.

Robert, with ſubmiſſion, it is your Lady's order, to all the ſervants, not to admit Mr. Doring⯑ton. She is not at home to him. Be upon the watch yourſelf. Shut the door in his face. It is your Lady's ſtrict injunction. Remember! Your Lady's.

SCENE III. The houſe of DORINGTON.

From theſe rough eſtimates, I find, the wreck of my fortune will ſuffice for the payment of my debts; and I am happy. Be kind enough to proceed as inſtructed; and, when you are in the city, inquire as minutely as poſſible, that I may conſider if ſome poor pittance of relief may not yet be afforded to the wretched ſufferers at Barbadoes.

Relief, Sir! How are you to provide for your own exiſtence?

Ha, ha, ha! How can man be ſo blind to the fewneſs of his wants, and the infinitude of his means, as to aſk ſuch a coward queſtion?

I wiſh, Sir, I could feel as you do.

Stay. I recollect another matter. Step this way.

SCENE IV. Footman and Major RAMPART.

My maſter is juſt gone into that room. I will tell him you are here, Sir.

Mighty well. Blow me! What can I do? What can I ſay? I know what he wants well enough, damme!

Major, I took the freedom to requeſt five minutes converſation with you.

Yes, damme! I know the ſubject. I take you. You want money: I am a few hundreds in your debt. Curſt unlucky! I wiſh I had thou⯑ſands! They ſhould all be yours, blow me! But if I have fifty pieces at my Banker's, I am a cut⯑throat Kalmuck! Do you take me? Damme! Humph?

Do not be alarmed. I am no dun. I want no money.

No?—Fire and—! Humph? Hay? Humph?

I have ſomething to preſent you with. You have long been ſoliciting rank; but wanted friends. I have been lucky enough to meet better ſucceſs. There is a commiſſion.

Blow me to—Humph? Hay? Humph?

Oliver Rampart, Colonel of the forty—Carnage and—Humph? Hay? But how? I want heavy artillery! I can't purchaſe! I have no guns, blow me! Humph?

That is all ſettled.

Hay? Do I take you? Arrears diſcharged? Exchange money paid?

It is.

Sulphur and—When am I to bring up my rear? Do you take me? Pay day? Humph? When am I to find bounty money?

When your two ſons are Captains, and your three daughters well married.

Blow me to atoms! Humph? Hay? Do you take me? Damme! Humph?

I have only one requeſt to make. When you become a General—

Ay! Damme! Humph? Hay? Humph?

You will ſtudy to win your battles by ſhedding as little human blood as poſſible.

Carnage and—You are a great hero! I will not ſhed a drop. Flames and fury! You are a mighty conqueror! And what are you to do? Humph? Hay? Damme! Do you take me?

Seek my fortune. The world is wide enough. I have health, ſtrength, courage, and common ſenſe. What do I want, which theſe can⯑not acquire?

Blow—I never ſaw a great man till this moment!

Farewell! Go and make your family happy.

Humph? Hay?

"Rule Britan"—Colonel Ram⯑part! Ha, ha, ha! "Britons nev"—General next year!—"never will"—You are a fine—Oh! Damme! Humph? Hay? Do you take—"Britons "never"—Oh you are a—"Britons"—

SCENE V. The front of CURFEW's houſe.

I did watch un out: a be coming thick way. I be zure a be guain to Madam's, and I do want to knaw what an a welcome a wul meet.

Who do you want, Sir?

Want? Why don't you know me, Robert?

Yes, Sir; I know you very well: only that my orders are to know no ſuch perſon.

Not know me?

I can't find in my heart to ſay I don't [53] know a gentleman that has been ſo kind to me. But ſervants muſt obey.

Are theſe Olivia's commands?

I am ſorry to ſay it, Sir, they are. I am ſtrictly charged to ſhut the door in your face; and may perhaps get turned away, for talking to you. But, ſince it is come to this, I don't much mind if I am.

Go, go, Robert! Obey your orders.

Oh Lord! Oh Lord!

Why then the diſſolution of worlds may be foretold; and impoſſibilities are true. Can it be? Holiday friends, ſlaves of appearances, ſyco⯑phants of proſperity, that rats like theſe ſhould fly the falling edifice is nothing ſtrange; it moves not my gall. But thou, Olivia? Thou!—It cannot be! 'Tis but ſome generous artifice to try my temper; and put my knowledge of thy noble nature to the teſt.

I muſt ſpeak a word of comfort to 'n; and I wul!

And ſhall a ſport, a ſhew of injury, deceive me? From a mind, too, native in magnanimity; incapable of inſult? What, diſtruſt thee? Rank thee with the baſe, the venal, and the vain? With grovelling ſpirits, that never felt the exalted ſwell of ſouls? Souls that riſe ſuperior to controul; that hold Fate itſelf their ſlave; and make their mirth of their misfortunes? Theſe are thy peers, Olivia. Shall I ſink thee, caſt thee from thy high place in my heart by one degrading thought? Oh no!

I do reverently hoape, Zur, you won't take it amiſs, but if I could be zo happy as to do any [54] mortal thing, to give you a bit of heart's eaſe, why, juſt at this time, it would make me main light i' my ſtomach here.

Thank you, Herbert; but I want no aid.

I do hoape you don't take the baſeneſs of zum volk too much to heart. I do knaw what it is to have a liking vor a zweetheart; and zure enough, if Annabel wur to zarve I o' that'n, I do believe it would make a mazed man o' me!

Have you ſeen Mr. Hudſon?

No, zure. I don't knaw the gentleman.

Well, go home. He has ſomething for you.

Won't ee let me go wi' you, Zur? Won't ee? I pray you do! You have a need enough of comfort. Tho'f al the wordle do vorſake you, I do humbly hoape you don't think I be ſo wicked to vorſake you too?

I have no need of your ſervices, my kind friend. When I have, I will accept them.

Wul you? Wul you, Zur? Why then the bleſſings of marcy be wi' you.

I am happy; be you ſo too. Go home, my good friend.

I do believe a's one of God a'mighty's an⯑gels! As zure as can be, a's not o' this arth! Go whoam? But I won't though. I won't go whoam, till I have been into that abomination houſe once more. I do hoape it won't fal, avore I do get out on't! I'll take Annabel away, I'm detarmint! I'll tell madam my mind, come on't what wul!

SCENE VI. The houſe of CURFEW.

Why do I make myſelf thus miſerable, for [55] an unworthy man? Why does my wilful heart regret one who would have fixed it in wretched⯑neſs?

Dear, dear, Madam, here is poor Herbert in ſuch a taking!

What is the matter?

You know he uſed to adore your very name, and now he is in the bittereſt paſſion with you!

With me?

For your unkindneſs to our dear benefac⯑tor. He has ſomething at heart that he cannot find words to explain.

Where is he? Bring him here.

Herbert, you may come in.

SCENE VII. Enter HERBERT.

I don't knaw if I do want to come in. I don't knaw if it beant a zin to be under the zeame roof wi' a falſe hearted—

Herbert!

May hap thee do mean to larn o' Madam, and zarve l the zeame? Doee! Doee! That's al! Doee!

I do adviſe you to know, Herbert, I be no ſuch perſon!

I do hoape i' my heart and zaul thee bean't! I do hoape thee be come of a better breed.

Who is it, Herbert, that you are thus an⯑gry with?

I do knaw who! Ees zure! I do knaw who!

Apparently, it is me?

That your vine volk, that came o' pur⯑poſely [56] to eat up his very bones, and drink down his heart's blood, that they ſhould turn their backs in his diſtreſs!

Diſtreſs?

Why it wur a mortal curſt abomination to be zure! But it wur little more nur natural. I had a vorfeeling o' that!

What do you mean by diſtreſs?

So kind a wur to ee! Volk may be aſheamed o' theirzel! A would a gin his zaul's eyes to a zaved the little vinger o' thoſe that the moment miſvortin befell'n they ſhut the door in his vace!

What is it you mean?

Where zuch wicked volk do hoape to go to I can't tell! But their end can't be good! No! They can't die in peace!

Herbert, I intreat, I inſiſt, you tell me in⯑ſtantly what has happened to Dorington.

Oh, marcy, marcy! As if you didn't knaw! Annabel, I do charge thee come away! If thee doſt ſtay here another night, I'll never zee thee more! I'll make away wi' myzel! I do love thee dearly! Thee doſt knaw I do; ſo come! Thee wilt take pattern to learn a bad zample. I do knaw thee will! So come!

I'll come to thee preſently.

Come along! Come! Will ee come? I'll be my own death elſe! Will ee come?

Be quiet, Herbert—Dear, dear Madam, good bye! I love you! Indeed, indeed I do! But Herbert will have me with him. Heaven's bleſ⯑ſings light upon you!

That be impoſſible, Annabel! I do wiſh vrom my zaul it war not! But it be, it too zurely be! Madam, I did think ee ſuch a Leady as the [57] wordle couldn't match! But I'll pray vor you! I can do no more! I'll pray that heaven may grant your precious zaul the grace to repent.

The paſſion of this honeſt youth is incom⯑prehenſible! What heinous act have I committed, that ſhould excite odium ſo violent, and ſo un⯑feigned, in his well-meaning and kind heart?

Robert! Has Dorington called this afternoon?

Very lately, Madam.

Did you open the door to him?

I did, Madam.

And what did you ſay?

I obeyed your directions.

What were they?

Madam? To ſhut it in his face.

In his face? How durſt you be guilty of ſuch an outrage?

It was Mr. Curfew's poſitive order, given in your name, Madam, as you were leaving the room.

In my name?

I ſuppoſed it was becauſe the poor gentle⯑man is ruined.

How? When?

All his Weſt-India eſtates, by a great ſtorm.

Heavens, and earth!

SCENE VIII.

What is it I hear, Sir?

With ſubmiſſion, Madam, How can I tell what you may have heard?

Is Dorington ruined?

Completely.

And was that the motive, which you would not explain, for urging my conſent to deny myſelf?

With all deference, would you deſire a better?

Better! Sir, as my Guardian, I have long ſtruggled to preſerve ſome reſpect for you, but it is no longer poſſible! Better?

Demons could not have imagined a worſe.

Begging your pardon, Miſs—

Sir, I will not be awed by your angry hu⯑mility, and an irritable ſpirit of contradiction. You have practiſed deceit upom me: odious per⯑nicious deceit: and have made me an abettor of guilt that I abhor.

Under favour, by ſaving you from ruin.

By plunging me into the loweſt contempt. By giving me the attributes of a fiend! Shut the door in the face of the unfortunate? Of thee, Dorington? The moſt generous and compaſſionate of men! Whoſe liberal hand and large heart were open to the whole human race! Abandon thee now? No! My actions ſhall vindicate me from the wicked, the foul aſperſion. If my whole for⯑tune can ſave thee, thou ſhalt be ſaved.

I venture to ſuppoſe, Madam, you will firſt aſk my advice.

No, Sir; I will not. I have followed your advice oftener than it was good. I will be guilty of this weakneſs no more.

I humbly preſume, Miſs Olivia, you are my ward.

Are you not?

With all due deference to your contemptuous treatment, I expect an anſwer.

Excuſe my freedom, your impertinence deſerves puniſhment.

Robert! Take this letter to Mr. Conſol, wait for an anſwer, and I particularly requeſt you will be quick! For heaven's ſake, fly!

Why, Madam! Your pretended apathy is inſolence, Madam! You are in a paſſion, Madam! You are in an abomi⯑nable paſſion, Madam! You are in a damned paſſion, Madam.

SCENE IX. The houſe of DORINGTON.

Herbert!—My good fellow!—What is the matter?

Matter enough.

Zounds, why the fool has tears in his eyes! Oh you ſhocking blockhead! Learn of me! Kick care to the devil! There is no blaſt of bad fortune, however black, that has not a white and bright ſpeck in it. Catch at the glorious phantom, you ranting rogue! Purſue it full ſpeed! Hug it, enjoy it, devour it, you happy dog! If it vaniſh one moment, it will flame with double blaze the next! Light up your imagination at it, and be in a conflagration yourſelf, you ſublime roiſter!

Vine talking.

Fine doing, Herbert! Imitate me: rea⯑lize your raptures; and then you will be the richeſt raſcal on earth! The whole Globe is mine! The pretended owners plow, ſow, and fret. I eat, drink, and enjoy!

No, no! There be no more joy vor I!

I am the happy man. I am alert! Alive! All ſoul! All fire! All pure ſpirit! I never walk the earth: I am in air! I fly! I ſoar! Skim!—Oh damme, you never ſee me in the glums!

May be not. May hap you do zet as little ſtore by your vriends as the reſt o' this baſe wordle.

Damn the world! I know it is baſe. But is that any reaſon that I ſhould be miſerable? Oh, no, Mr. Devil, you ſhall not have that pull upon me! While I live, the ſun ſhall ſhine: and, if it ſhould be ſnuffed out, I'll create a ſun of my own!

Your zun may ſhine; but other volks zuns be zet.

Whoſe?

Mine. But that be nothing. I ſhall never be happy again, ſo long as I do draa breath! But that don't much matter.

Oh you miſerable mortal! You earth-born booby! But never mind. I will be your doctor: your alchymiſt. I will ſublimate, will ſpiritualize you! Only tell me, where Dorington is?

Ah poor gentleman, he be ill enough!

Ill? Damme, how dare he be ill, without my leave? But I have news!

Have you?

News that will make his heart leap!

Why have you indeed, Zur? Why have you? Be it good?

Good? A. B. is—The like was never heard!

Laukadaiſy! I be glad to hear it! What can it be?

A. B.!—I treated him ill laſt night. I refuſed his money. But I am come to make him ample amends! A. B.!—Inſtead of 500l. he ſhall lend me a thouſand!

Lend a thouſand! Marcyful God!—What baſe wretches there be i' this wordle!

Who is baſe, fellow? What is the mat⯑ter? I know him! To make my fortune will give him rapture! I ſhall repay him all I owe him within a month! Damme, I have been too long in his debt! It is high time to pay off. But I am his friend.

Vriend? Lord vorgi' me! I had liked to ha' zaid, May old cloven foot flee away wi' his vriends, all in a ſtring!—Vriends? Patience o' my heart!—Poor Gentleman!

Why!—Herbert. What? Hay?—Speak!—Any—Hay?—Any miſ⯑fortune?

What ull become o' 'n?

Zounds! You tormenting—

My good—dear—An—Herbert, ſpeak. Ta ake courage! Be—e—e calm!—Be calm!

He can't work—He won't beg—

He muſt ſtarve—That's al!

Starve? Do-o-oring⯑ton my frie▪e-end! Da-a-mme if he ſhall!—Wha a at do you cry y y ſo for; you curſt he-e-en hearted dog?

He that has be en zo goo ood to al!

I kno o ow he has! Wha at then? Wha at then? Da da a amme, don't cry! Doo o o n't cry! You foo ol, do n't cry!

But I can wo ork vor'n; and zo can A-Annabel.

And ſo o o can I, you booby! So o can I!

As long as we a' got a mor⯑ſel, he ſhall never want! Never!

Want, Herbert! Want? Oh ye immortals! You have ſet my brain in a frenzy! Speak! Speak!

I can't ſpeak—Vorzaken of al his vriends! [62] His houſe and lands and al blowed down! His zweetheart falſe to her vows! No zaul on earth to comfort his poor heart! What ull become o' 'n?

Death and dam—Blown down?—It muſt be ſo! The great tornado!

Too zure! Too zure!—I ha' but one hoape.

What is that? My good dear Herbert! What is that?

May hap you may a' heard of an eſteeate left vor I and my couſin? 'Tis but dree hundred a year. A mortal deeal too much, to be zure, vor I; but almoſt nothing at al, vor he!

And you would ſhare it, hay; my heroic ſoul?

Share it? Ees zure! Vor it ſhould be every fard'n al his own!

Poiſon and fire! Is not this cutting now? Here is this pitiful claypole will give his eſtate! And I, pennyleſs raſcal that I am, have not a doit to beſtow!—Have not I?—Did I dare tell myſelf ſuch a lie?—Herbert, I applaud the project, my ſoul of benignity! He ſhall have half your eſtate, and all mine!

Al yours! I didn't knaw you had an eſteeate!

Yes but I have, and a noble one it is!

Ay vor zure? Whereabouts do it lie?

In a very narrow compaſs, my boy!

Ay ay truly; I do fear as much.

In a ring fence! Here!

It is portable! Go where I will, I carry it about me! Thieves cannot ſteal! Confiſcation cannot take it away! While I am capable of en⯑joying, it is certain to be in my poſſeſſion! And, what is better, damme, it is daily riſing in value!

May hap zo. May hap zo. But I do knaw the lawyers won't gi' five vardins vor the fee ſimple of 't.

You are a royal rogue! But I, I am roy⯑alty itſelf.

I do fear you be crack-brained!

I am a genius! And genius is a monarch on a large eſtabliſhment; for whom the public are in duty bound to furniſh a fund of praiſe, equal to his expenditure of intellect!

Ay ay! He be too zurely crack-brained!

SCENE X. Enter Mr. HUDSON.

Your name I believe, Sir, is Herbert?

Ees zure.

And yours, Sir, if I do not miſtake, Mr. Hairbrain?

Zounds! He's a Bailiff!—Well, Sir; and what then?

I am glad you are preſent to witneſs that I deliver theſe deeds.

What? Hay? The eſtate, Herbert! Hay? My honeſt ſetter?

On the part of Mr. Dorington.

As zure as I be I, it is.

Hurrah!—This will be a great day yet. I laſt night dreamt my ticket was come up a blank. Dreams go by contraries! It will be a great day yet! Firſt my prize in the lottery! Then A B! Then the fruits of my own labours! That firſt of delights, that moſt exquiſite moſt certain of re⯑ſources, the products of my own genius!

Dang it! Where can a be?

Herbert, my boy! Come! Let us fly! We'll find him.

Where?

Leave that to me. I can do every thing. We'll ſettle our property upon him! He'll be very proud! I know him. Ha, ha, ha! What a damn'd booby you were to cry ſo! It will be a great day! A glorious day! Come along! Curſe your crying! Come along! Hurrah! Away! Hurrah! Ha, ha, ha! Damn your crying!

SCENE XI. The houſe of CONSOL.

Inform Madam Olivia I am come, as ſhe deſired.

Yes! Sir.

I wonder what ſhe can want with me. Not money; for ſhe is rich and has not learned to ſquander. She has ſome deſign. She is very ſmooth ſpoken: a ſure mark of cunning. Oh ſhe has ſome end to anſwer. Odds body! A comical thought has croſſed me! Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! It can be only that! Ha, ha, ha! She has taken a fancy to me! Fallen in love with me! Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! I have hit it! I have the whole clue! I am the rich Conſol! Oh! Beſides now I recol⯑lect, I have ſeen her look—I cannot tell how! She knows I am one of the richeſt, ergo, one of the greateſt men breathing! Then there are agree⯑ments, ſimilarities between us! She is prudent economical and cunning! So am I: She is rich young and beautiful: ſo am—? Yes—ſo am I! Five and forty is young enough: and as for hand⯑ſome, your plump, round-faced, ſmug-looking, per⯑ſon is always agreeable: and I have a remarkable ſmile—Ha, ha, ha! She is a good one! She knows two and two make four. 'Tis a deep thought! [65] Her vaſt fortune added to mine, I ſhall ſoon be able to buy up the Bedford rent roll! It is a grand idea!—Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! Oh ſhe is a good one! Zounds, I wonder the thought never ſtruck her or me before! Odds body, it will be a rare match! It will amaze every body! Oh Lord! How happy the diſcovery has made me! Ha, ha, ha! It is a deep game!

Mr. Conſol, I thank you for your imme⯑diate attention. I want your aid, and fear I have taken a liberty with you, which you may think ſtrange.

Strange, dear Madam? Allow me to ſay, it is ſtrange you did not take it ſooner.

Take what, Sir?

No matter. Better late than never.

I have a buſineſs to propoſe, to which I am but little accuſtomed

I know it, dear Madam! I know it! But what matters cuſtom?

Good ſenſe, I own, Sir, is a better guide.

No doubt on't! Be under no alarm, Ma⯑dam; come to the point at once. I know the world.

Poor Dorington is at preſent in diſtreſs.

Ay, ay! Poor and in diſtreſs. Oh you are a ſhrewd Lady!

I am perſuaded you will not think me ſo.

Dear Madam, I know you to be ſo! I never admired any Lady's prudence ſo much in my life!

I am glad you approve my proceeding.

Approve? I am tranſported with it! I adore you for it! Oh, it was a prodigious thought!

A very natural one.

You are a great beauty. So I am a great wit. For why? I can command half a million! Show me another man as witty as myſelf. Then, as for perſon, I have a ſtraight leg, a comely face, and a fine eye, for I always ſee my own intereſt.

I do not comprehend you, Sir.

Nay, nay, dear Madam, ſpeak out, you are ſhrewd: you know well enough modeſty is only a maſk.

It may be ſo with the knaviſh.

Knaviſh? All people are knaviſh at heart, When they are honeſt it is from a knaviſh mo⯑tive.

Indeed? Your philoſophy is beyond me.

I hope no offence, Madam? I would rather the ſtocks ſhould fall than offend you!

What is the matter with the man?—My buſineſs with you, Mr. Conſol, is an affair of delicacy.

Speak; fear nothing, Madam. With the Ladies, no man more delicate than myſelf.

You are gallant, Sir.

To be ſure, Madam! You have made me gallant; have fired me; have put my blood in a blaze!

Mr. Conſol!

Ay, and Mrs. Conſol! Is not that it, Ma⯑dam?

Is the man frantic?

I ſee you will not ſpeak; ſo I will. I love you, Madam!

Sir!

May my Banker break if I do not! Full fifty per cent. better than ever I loved woman in my life!

Amazing!

Not at all. I love you; you love me: there is no love loſt. Our purſes ſhall be as lov⯑ing as our perſons: one pocket, one pair of ſheets.

Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! I ſhall expire.

Expire, Madam? I would almoſt rather be a lame duck.

Ha, ha, ha! I dare ſay, Sir, your grief would be as pungent as your paſſion is powerful. I know not what odd accident has blown up this flame in your boſom; but I imagine a ſingle word will quench it. You are miſtaken.

Me, Madam?

Strange as it may ſeem, even you.

How can that be? You are rich, Doring⯑ton is ruined; you are ſhrewd, I am deep; you are a ſpinſter; I am a bachelor. You ſent for me; and having no call for caſh, why did you ſend? To do the deep thing, to be ſure; and couple at once our fortunes and our affec⯑tions.

Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! How ſhall I ſupport this extacy of arithmetic! This profuſion of fifty per cent. tenderneſs?

Nay, Madam—

This Change Alley Cupid! That ſtudies amorous looks in the price of bullion; paſſionate deſires in correct tables of intereſt; and tumultu⯑ous tranſports according to the rate of Exchange! Ha, ha, ha!

I don't underſtand, Madam!

That falls moſt woefully in love to the quaaking of lame ducks, and the muſic of bulls and bears! That kindles up his flame to the ſweet harmony of ſcrip ſix and a half! Omnium [68] ten, ſeven-eighths! Who'll buy? Who'll buy?

Very odd!

Ha, ha, ha! Pardon me, Sir. Indeed I would reſiſt this impertinent laugh, if I could.

What is there to laugh at in me? Fifty thouſand in the long annuities: three times the ſum bank ſtock: and not much leſs in India Bonds, Conſols, and South Sea. Is all that a joke? If it be, it is a deviliſh good joke! One of the wittieſt I ever heard.

Well, Sir, I will leave you in full poſſeſſion of your wit and jocularity; and, waving farther preface, declare my buſineſs.

And am I then really hummed?

Ha, ha, ha!

Are you ſure?

Ha, ha, ha! Paſt all doubt.

Then, Madam, you have miſſed a glorious opportunity; and are not the woman I took you for!

Pray let us be ſerious, Sir. My buſineſs with you requires diſpatch. I want an immediate ſum of money.

Money? That is quite another affair! Money is a very ſcarce article.

You forget, Sir? Long Annuities, India Bonds, South Sea?

Forget, Oh no! Can't forget! Never for⯑get! But the terms?

Shall be of your own dictating.

Humph! That's ſomething—And the ſe⯑curity?

Is ſurely undeniable.

Oh Lord, Madam! A Ward! Mr. Cur⯑few your guardian! A bill filed in chancery!

I muſt have money, Sir, of you, or elſe⯑where.

Muſt, I own is an imperious gentleman! Tho' I own I have no diſlike to his acquaintance; for he is always willing to hear reaſon and pay for riſk.

To be ſure, Sir.

Yes, Dorington; I will bleſs even uſury; ſince it will afford thee re⯑lief—Pleaſe, Sir, to ſtep into my apartment, and we will agree on the terms.

I attend you, Madam. But, do now, give the love buſineſs a turn in your thought. Pray do! Really I am a jewel! Do wear me in your boſom.

We ſhould be a charming pair!

A lovely pair!

SCENE I. The ſtreet.

HOLLA, Holla, Holla!

What the devil is all this hallabal⯑loo?

Does Edward Hairbrain, Eſq. live here?

Here's an uproar indeed! Who are you? What do you want?

Squire Hairbrain.

This is ſome damn'd bailiff. Betty! Shut the door! Keep 'em out! I am not at home!

Oh, Sir, if you are the gentleman, rare news! Come down! Come down!

You confounded ſcheming raſcals, I tell you, I am not at home! I know your tricks! You are in maſquerade, you dogs!

Come down, Sir! Come down!

Get away, villain! Get away! Or curſe me but I will down with you! I have a four-bar⯑relled blunderbuſs; and, if you offer to ſtorm my Caſtellum, damme but I'll pepper you!

Nay but hear!

I'll let fly! I will! I will!

I am the head clerk at Fleece|'em's Lottery-office.

What? Who? Lottery?

Yes.

A Prize?

Of twenty thouſand pounds!

Twenty—Take care! Take care!

Where are you? How many have I killed? Twenty thouſand?

Sterling-money of Great-Britain!

You intolerably lucky dog! Your fortune is made! Twenty thouſand! You inanimate ſcoun⯑drels! Why don't you ſhout? Shout, you dull dogs! Shout!

Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!

Play, you villains! Harmony! Heavenly harmony! Silence! Silence, I ſay! Have you brought a coach and ſix?

No, Sir!

Oh you damned thoughtleſs ſtreet-trotter!

But there are twenty on the ſtand.

I'll ride in them all! Call 'em every one! Get within! And without! Upon the roof! Under the wheels! Mount your fiddleſticks and make a cavalcade. Five rounds of beef and as many butts of porter are yours! I'll regale you! Shout, raſcals!—Silence! Once again ſilence! Be mute, villains, and obey! I am the Great Mogul! Take me to my friends! Quick! Quick, you iron-ſouled ſcoundrels! Don't you know he is in diſtreſs?

Where muſt we go?

Brook-ſtreet, hound! Brook ſtreet! Where elſe, wiſeacre?—I'll be with him! I told him he [72] might depend upon me. Away! Sing! Shout! Dance! Be mad, you villains! Away! I come, Dorington! I come!

SCENE II. The houſe of DORINGTON.

The miſtake appears extraordinary!

Impelled by inexpreſſible terrors, at the approaching hurricane, I left the iſland before it happened; and eſcaped to the ſhip that brought me to England.

Of whom, then, did you learn the detail you gave me?

From various veſſels; that all were uni⯑form in their report. I am ſorry I have unwittingly been the cauſe of ſo painful and falſe an alarm.

Think not of the pain.

The intelligence thoſe letters bring is cer⯑tain. Sheltered by the high lands, your domains received but little damage; and, from the too general devaſtation, your crops, which were great, are doubled in value.

Doubled? No! Let me periſh indeed, rather than batten on the general diſtreſs! Seek a paſſage; return with all ſpeed; and deal out, to the neceſſitous, all the relief my crops and ſtores can ſupply. But let your aid itſelf be cautious, and gradual; elſe, inſtead of good, it may be miſ⯑chievous.

What does this mean?—Who is there?—How now?—Why John! Harry!

SCENE III. Enter HAIRBRAIN.

Dorington!—My friend!—Damme!—I can't ſpeak!—

Has honeſt Herbert found you?

Found me?—No!

Poor fellow!—I am firſt! The luck is all my own!—Do you know the extent of your riches?

No, indeed.

I'll tell you. I have brought the account. The balance ſhall be ſtruck inſtantly. Here.

What is there?

Your prize.

How!

Among my mad whims, you remember, I one day made you buy a lottery ticket.

For you?

For me, while you were rich, and I was poor; but now you are poor, and I am rich, for you. In law and juſtice it is all your own.

Have you got a prize?

No: but you have.

I am heartily glad!

Why that is an honeſt fellow! That is a good fellow! God bleſs you! That is acting like a man! I reverence you!

Well, but hear!

You take it without a word. You don't ſtrike your friend dead by a refuſal! I reverence you! God bleſs you!

My excellent heart! My thrice noble friend!

Yes; we are friends! Everlaſting friends, ſince you have not refuſed me!

Liſten for a moment!

Let me go! What the devil do you hold me for? I have ten thouſand affairs—Why, zounds! Will you let me go?

Ned!—Angel-ſouled mortal! Hear! And, if thou canſt, be ſtill more happy than thou art!—I do not want thy money.

Damme!—Cut my throat!—Uſe me tenderly, and blow my brains out!

My eſtates are not deſtroyed!

I have deſerved this!—I refuſed your money, and you are ſeeking your revenge!—I deſerve it!

By all that is juſt and ſincere, I am as rich as ever!

Can you ſo ſolemnly aſſert that which is not?

Ay, Ned! Aſk! Can your friend do that?

Why—can—may—

Again and again, I am ſincere!

I can't ſtand it!—My ſoul is ſuffocated! Dorington himſelf again! Give me ſome Bur⯑gundy!

And have you a prize?

Damn my prize!—Give me ſome Bur⯑gundy!—Lend me your arm!—Dorington!

Ned!

I can't ſtand it!

SCENE IV. Changes to the hall.

Then, Sir, you do not know where Mr. Dorington is?

I am in ſearch of him. Not long ſince, I left him at home.

I muſt find him. I am miſerable till I have proved I am not what appearances have made me—You brought the fatal news?

I did; and was anxious to prepare him to ſupport the ſhock.

To which, dreadful as it was, I know him equal.

Till then, I had never beheld, nor had any hope any image of, a mind ſo tempered; a heart ſo heroic; a ſoul ſo dignified!

And I, at the very moment when oppreſſion poured upon him, when the brutal, the wolfiſh, the idiot world deſerted and caſt him forth, I added inſult to outrage!

His confidence in you was ſupreme. It ſeemed even to increaſe, by the unmanly taunts, and baſe defection of the ſycophants around him. To you he turned, as to the tried friend of all for⯑tunes. The conſolation it gave him beamed in his countenance.

Oh God! Oh God! Could I but atone the injuries I have done thee, Dorington, I ſhould die content.

Nay, nay, he is ſtill the ſame. His faith in you is not to be ſhaken; not even by your own actions.

They were not my own. The wickedneſs of fiends is not more hateful to my heart. You, Sir, I know are his tried and truſty agent. Be kind enough to take charge of theſe bills, and deliver him this letter.

Pardon me, but I dare not. Neither is it neceſſary.

He will not, himſelf, give me ſuch a refuſal! His mind is not ſo narrow! My fortune will not reſtore him to what he was; but it will do ſome⯑thing. [76] Of revenge he is incapable. Yes! He is above me!

SCENE V. Enter HAIRBRAIN, half drunk.

Your humble ſervant, fair Lady!

Sir! Is it you?

Yes: it's me!

Have you ſeen your friend? Where is Do⯑rington?

Dorington is an ex exquis quis quiſite exquiſite fellow! The happieſt dear dog on earth! And I am ſtill happier!

Ay, indeed!

You are—No—I won't tell you what you are—I won't inſult a woman. But I am ſorry for you.

Tell me but where he is, and reproach me as bitterly as you pleaſe.

Fie, Madam! I ſcorn re reproach! I never re reproach the Ladies! Never! But I am ſorry for you.

Well, well, where is Dorington?

Dorington is a he hero!

Moſt true!

And I am a he hero! I'm a hero! And yeſterday, yeſtday, I thought you as great a he hero as the beſt of us! So I am ſorry for you! Very ſorry! I am upon my ſoul!

Recollect yourſelf, I intreat you!

Re e collect? You don't ſup up poſe that I am tip ip ſy?—See? What did I ſee? Oh! I could weep a ſea, ay and a tea-cup full of tears! A Lady in dis is treſs of weather always excites my compaſs—ion! My paſſions! It is a mo oving ſcene! I pity you! pity—pit you pit you againſt [77] any—jil—il—No, damme, Ned, be the Gentle⯑man!

Shall you ſee him again this evening?

To be ſure I ſhall,

unleſs I ſhould happen to get drunk for joy.

Then be kind enough to give him that let⯑ter.

From that I hope he will learn the true ſtate of my heart.

Nay, but ſtop! Stop! I have ſomething to tell you.

Concerning Dorington?

Yes. Great news!

News! What is it? I intreat you ſpeak!

Pro ro ro digious news! I can't find ut utterance!

Endeavour, pray!

I do! I do en—end—End? I haven't begun!

Now!

His lands and chat—tels were all blown away!—You heard of that?

I did.

I know you did! So you you you were blown away too! Ha, ha, ha! Blown away! All blown away!

Do you laugh at that?

Yes! Ha, ha, ha! Yes I do! For they are all blown back again!

Heavens!

Every ſtick and ſtone! All in their proper places! As quiet as lambs!

Oh happineſs!

Yes! Happi⯑neſs for him! But what for me?

You thought him poor, and treated tre⯑eated him like a—Be quiet, Ned!—Harkye, if ever you ſhould ſee me in my cups, fly! Get out of my [78] way! I ſhould ſay the ru udeſt bit itter—But, while I am ſober, I only think—I only think you are a bitter—Oh! In my cups beware of me!

Even ſo! Why then he is reſtored to ho⯑nour and happineſs; and I am fallen into the con⯑tempt, the ſcorn, which motives ſo mean as thoſe imputed to me would well have merited! And who will believe them other than they have ap⯑peared? When he was poor, I ſeemed to abandon him. Now he no longer needs my friendſhip, I fly to afford him aid!—It muſt not be! He is loſt. Conduct ſo abject as this ſhall never be imputed to me!—And is it thus?—A heart ſo munificent! A ſoul ſo capacious! Manners ſo gentle! Forti⯑tude ſo unſhaken! Is there no hope? Am I for ever cut off from their benignant influence? I am! For ever! He is loſt; and annihilation is come upon my ſoul!

Who is loſt? I am not loſt! Here am I!—Why don't you ſpeak?—Think of ſome ex⯑cuſe—I'll plead for you—I am el el elo eloquent, I am eloquent, and he is noble! Nob oble—So be under no concern, Madam; I, I'll be your meſs eſs meſſmate—Pſhaw! Meſſenger. I'll deliver—Liver? I have the liver hiccup, I believe!

SCENE VI. Enter DORINGTON.

Ned! My dear fellow▪ where is Olivia?

Hey day! What the devil! Are you blind? There ſhe ſtands!

Where?

Before your eyes! Can't you ſee?—Sob⯑bing and crying! Comfort her! Com um come—Go to her! Take pity on her!

What have you there?

An Epiſtle—Ovid—in Arabic—crabbed characters—Thomas! Bring me a wet nap ap kin! A nap ap a nap ſob ſobers me to a mir-a-cle—for I begin to ſuſpect I am how came you ſo?—Do you hear both? I leave you to love and—A wet napkin, Thomas!—Make it up! Be charitable Pa a Paphians Pa Pagans and good Chriſtians—Thomas!

A nap a nap—Be quiet. Damme! Do you think I am drunk?

Take care of him, Thomas.

Stand off! You mongrel ſon of a plate and trencher! Stand off! Dorington! Be merciful! Conſider! A woman! Oh the dear ſweet creatures! I love 'em from my ſoul! They are the delight, the—I—I—I'd marry them all!

"With women and wine I defy ev'ry care"—I'd marry them every one!—"For life without theſe"—Marry them all! All!—"Is a bubble of air"—All!

It is ſealed! But it is directed to me! In her own hand! Why do I feel this palpitation? Do I then at laſt ſuſpect her? Oh no!

SCENE VII. Enter OLIVIA.

How could I forget the letter! 'Twill ſeem [80] like the meaneſt of cunning. Heavens! What do I ſee?

Olivia!!!

I perceive you have read a letter that was not intended for your peruſal.

Not intended?

I would have died rather than it ſhould have met your eye. It was to the ruined Doring⯑ton. I am incapable of the artifice of which it appears to accuſe me.

Olivia!—Am I the man to accuſe you of artifice?

Oh Dorington!

My ſoul! My heart's precious treaſure!

I thought you poor! Abandoned! I have been heart-broken!

Here huſh your fears! Here bury your diſ⯑quietudes!

Colonel Rampart is below.

Oh, the Major? Shall we ſee him?

By all means.

Lady Taunton deſires to know if ſhe may be admitted.

Lord Laroon's compliments, Sir, and aſks if you are diſengaged?

Sir Pertinax Pitiful's moſt reſpectful congra⯑tulations; is inexpreſſibly affected by your return of happineſs, Sir, and underſtanding you were here, requeſts—

Hey day! What homily is this?

More company, friends of Mr. Doring⯑ton, deſire to know if you are at home, Madam.

No!—Yes! But not at leiſure to interrupt my happineſs by liſtening to the ſneers of malice, or the glozings of hypocriſy.

My compliments, Thomas, to the Ladies and Gentlemen. In public, as uſual, I ſhall meet them as acquaintance, but never in private treat them as friends!

I'll not forget the meſſage, I warrant me.

SCENE VIII. Enter Colonel RAMPART.

Colonel, I give you joy of your promotion.

Madam, Dorington is a—Humph? I wiſh I was an Orator! Do you take me? Humph? Hay? Damme! Humph?

Yes, yes; I underſtand you, Colonel.

Dorington—Caeſar and Pompey? Pſhaw! I wiſh I was an Orator!

I think you are one.

Dorington is my friend. Do you take me? Humph? Were his Majeſty to appoint me Ge⯑neraliſſimo, I ſhould not be aſhamed of my friend; and I hope my friend will never be aſhamed of me.

There is no fear of that, Colonel.

Why, yes—Blow me to—I am a Co⯑lonel, thanks to ſomebody. Do you take me, Madam? Oh, damme, I wiſh I was an Orator! Humph? Hay? Damme! Humph?

SCENE IX. ANNABEL timidly at the door: HERBERT pulling her back.

Why, Annabel! Are thee mazed?

I tell thee I will! I know ſhe will forgive us.

Come back, I zay, Annabel! Pize on't! Come back.

I am ſure ſhe will forget our ingratitude!

Nay then, an thee will be muliſh, let I ſpeak—Zur—Madam—

Annabel!

Herbert!

I be ſheamed, mortal ſheamed to ſhew my face! But Annabel is nought to blame! It's al the fault of I! Annabel ull break her heart an you don't vargi' her, Madam▪

I hope you won't be angry with Herbert; he meant it all for the beſt!

Hold thy tongue, Annabel!—Ees zure! I meeant it al for the beſt! And zo did Annabel. I wiſh I could have zarved you in any zort! I do wiſh it wi' al my heart! And ſo does Annabel! Don't you, Annabel?

Yes! Indeed, indeed I do!

Be quiet! Hold thy tongue, Annabel!—I would a laid down my life! I would as I am a Chriſtian zaul, an I could but a helped to a' meade you both as happy as you do zeem to be: and zo would Annabel! Wouldn't thee, Annabel?

That I would! Oh! That I would! And I am ſure ſo would Herbert.

Be quiet, Annabel! Zo, as to be zure you mun be angry wi' I, having ſuch good cauſe, wherefore I do beg and pray—Kneel, Annabel—and I do hoape and petition you'll not bear ma⯑lice wi' Annabel!

Pray—pray forgive Herbert.

My kind, good girl!

There! I tauld thee I ſhould compaſs it!

My gentle-hearted Herbert!

Ees indeed! I wouldn't hurt a worm, not I!

I love you both!

Do'ee?

Dearly!

Do'ee?—I tould thee I ſhould compaſs it, Annabel! Didn't I now? Didn't I?

And I would love you ſtill better, if I could!

Would 'ee?—I—love I; not Annabel! I do love ſhe al myzel!—Annabel! I be half out o' my wits! Biſn't thee?

Oh, Herbert!

Hold thy tongue! I tauld thee I ſhould compaſs it!

Come, come, friends—

There! Doſt thee hear? Vriends! I tauld thee I—

Huſband your raptures! Let us be ſober, even in our joys. Let us emulate my noble⯑minded Dorington! Be full, yet tranquil, in feli⯑city: active, yet ſmiling, in misfortune! Let us reflect on the paſt for improvement, and meet the preſent with equanimity. We ſhall then obtain approbation for our good deeds, and indulgence for our miſtakes.