[]St PATRICK's DAY; OR, THE SCHEMING LIEUTENANT.

I Say you are wrong, we ſhould all ſpeak together, each for himſelf, and all at once, that we may be heard the better.

Right Jack, we'll argue in Platoons.

Ay, ay, let him have our grievances in a vol⯑ly, and if we be to have a ſpokeſman, there's the Corpo⯑ral is the Lieutenant's countryman; and knows his hu⯑mour.

Let me alone for that, I ſerv'd three years wi⯑thin a bit, under his honour, in the Royal Inniſkillions, and I never will ſee a ſweeter tempered gentleman, nor one more free with his purſe. I put a great ſhamrogue in his hat this morning, and I'll be bound for him, he'll wear it, was it as big as Steven's green.

I ſay again then you talk like youngſters, like Militia ſtriplings, there is a diſcipline, look'ee, in all things, whereof the ſerjeant muſt be our guide, he's a gentleman of words, he underſtands your foreign lingo, your figures, and ſuch like auxiliaries in ſcoring.—Con⯑feſs now for a reckoning, whether in chalk or writing, ben't he your only man.

Why the ſerjeant is a ſcholar to be ſure, and has the gift of reading.

Good ſoldiers, and fellow gentlemen, if you make me your ſpokeſman, you will ſhew the more [4] judgment, and let me alone for the argument. I'll be as loud as a drum, and point blank from the purpoſe.

Agreed, agreed.

O Fait here comes the Lieutenant, now Ser⯑jeant.

So then, to order.—Put on your mutiny looks, every man grumble a little to himſelf, and ſome of you hum the deſerter's march.

Well honeſt lads, what is it you have to com⯑plain of.

Ahem! hem!

So pleaſe your honour, the very grievance of the matter is this;—ever ſince your honour differed with Juſtice Credilous, our Inkeepers uſe us moſt ſcurvily.— By my halbert, their treatment is ſuch, that if your ſpirit was willing to put up with it, fleſh and blood could by no means agree, ſo we humbly petition, that your honour would make an end of the matter at once, by running away with the Juſtice's daughter, or elſe get us freſh quarters, hem! hem!

Indeed!—Pray which of the houſes uſe you ill.

There's the Red Lion ha'n't half the civility of the old Red Lion.

There's the White Horſe, if he was'n't caſe hardened, ought to be aſhamed to ſhew his face.

Very well, the Horſe and the Lion ſhall an⯑ſwer for it, at the quarter ſeſſions.

The two Magpies are civil enough, but the An⯑gel uſes us like devils, and the riſing ſun refuſes us light to go to bed by.

Then upon my word, I'll have the riſing ſun put down, and the Angel ſhall give ſecurity for his good behaviour, but are you ſure you do nothing to quit ſcores with them.

Nothing at all your honour, unleſs now and then we happen to fling a cartridge into the kitchen [5] fire, or put a ſpatterdaſh or ſo into the ſoup—and ſome⯑times Ned drums up and down ſtairs a little of a night.

Oh all that's fair, but hark'ee lads I muſt have no grumbling on St Patrick's day, ſo here take this and divide it amongſt you. But obſerve me now, ſhow yourſelves men of ſpirit, and don't ſpend ſix pence of it in drink.

Nay hang it your honour, ſoldiers ſhould never bear malice, we muſt drink St Patrick's and your ho⯑nour's health.

Oh damn malice. St Patrick's and his honour by all means.

Come away then lads, and firſt we'll parade round the Market Croſs, for the honour of King George.

Thank your honour. Come along, St Pa⯑trick's, his honour, and ſtrong beer for ever.

Get along you thoughtleſs vagabonds, yet upon my conſcience, 'tis very hard theſe poor fellows ſhould ſcarcely have bread from the ſoil they would die to de⯑fend.

Ah, my little Doctor Roſy, my galen a-bridge, what's the news?

All things are as they were, my Alexander, the Juſtice is as violent as ever, I felt his pulſe on the mat⯑ter again, and thinking his rage began to intermit, I wanted to throw in the bark of good advice, but it would not do. He ſays you and your cutthroats have a plot upon his life, and ſwears he had rather ſee his daughter in a ſcarlet fever, than in the arms of a ſoldier.

Upon my word the army is very much obliged to him, well then, I muſt marry the girl firſt, and aſk his conſent afterwards.

So then, the caſe of her fortune is deſperate, hey!

O hang fortune, let that take its chance, there is a beauty in Lauretta's ſimplicity, ſo pure a bloom upon her charms.

So there is, ſo there is.—You are for beauty as nature made her, hey! No artificial graces, no coſ⯑metic varniſh, no beauty in grain, hey!

Upon my word Doctor, you are right, the Lon⯑don ladies were always too handſome for me;—then they are ſo defended, ſuch a circumvaluation of hoop, with a breaſt work of whale bone, that would turn a piſtol bullet, much leſs Cupid's arrows, then turret on turret on top, with ſtores of concealed weapons, under pre⯑tence of black pins, and above all, a ſtandard of fea⯑thers, that would do honour to a knight of the Bath. Upon my conſcience I could as ſoon embrace an Amo⯑ſen arm'd at all points.

Right, right my Alexander—my taſte to a tit⯑tle.

Then Doctor, though I admire modeſty in women, I like to ſee their faces. I am for the change⯑able roſe, but with one of theſe quality amazons, if their midnight diſſipations had left them blood enough to raiſe a bluſh, they have not room enough in their cheeks to ſhow it.—To be ſure, baſhfulneſs is a very pretty thing, but in my mind, there is nothing on earth, ſo impudent as an everlaſting bluſh.

My taſte, my taſte—Well Lauretta is none of theſe—Ah! I never ſee her, but ſhe puts me in mind of my poor dear wife.

Ay faith, in my opinion ſhe can't do a worſe thing.—Now is he going to bother me about an old hag that has been dead theſe ſix years.

Oh poor Dolly! I never ſhall ſee her like again, ſuch an arm for a bandage—Veins that ſeem'd to invite the lancet. Then her ſkin, ſmooth and white as a gal⯑lipot —her mouth as round and not larger than the month of a penny phial. Her lips conſerve of roſes— and then her teeth—none of your ſturdy fixtures—aſk as they wou'd—it was but a ſmall pull and out they came. I believe I have drawn half a ſcore of her poor dear pearls,

but what avails her beauty. Death has no conſideration—one muſt die as well as another.

O! if he begins to moralize

Fair or ugly, crooked or ſtraight, rich or poor, fleſh as grafs flowers fade!

Here Doctor, take a pinch, and keep up your ſpirits.

True, true my friend, grief can't mend the matter —all's for the beſt, but ſuch a woman was a great loſs, Lieutenant.

To be ſure, for doubtleſs ſhe had mental ac⯑compliſhments equal to her beauty.

Mental accompliſhments! ſhe would have ſtuf⯑fed an aligator, or pickled a lizard with any Apotheca⯑ry's wife in the kingdom. Why ſhe could decypher a preſcription, and invent the ingredients, almoſt as well as myſelf; then ſhe was ſuch a hand at making foreign waters for Setzer, Pyrmont, Iſlington or Chaly beate ſhe never had her equal—and her Bath and Briſtol ſprings exceeded the originals—Ah! Poor Dolly, ſhe fell a martyr to her own diſcoveries.

How ſo, pray?

Poor ſoul, her illneſs was occaſioned by her zeal in trying an improvement on the Spa water, by an in⯑fuſion of rum and acid.

Ay, ay, ſpirits never agree with water drink⯑ers.

No, no, you miſtake.—Rum agreed with her well enough, it was not the rum that killed the poor dear creature, for ſhe died of a dropſy. Well, ſhe is gone never to return, and has left no pledge of our loves behind—No little babe, to hang like a label round pa⯑pa's neck: well, well, we are all mortal,—ſooner or la⯑ter fleſh is graſs—flowers fade.

O the devil again!

Life's a ſhadow, the world a ſtage,—we ſtrut an hour.

Here Doctor.

True, true my friend—well, high grief can't cure it. All's for the beſt, hey! my little Alexander.

Right, right, an Apothecary ſhould never be out of ſpirits. But come, faith 'tis time honeſt Hum⯑phrey ſhould wait on the Juſtice, that muſt be our firſt ſcheme.

True, true, you ſhould be ready, the cloaths are at my houſe, and I have given you ſuch a character, that he is impatient to have you; he ſwears you ſhall be his body guard. Well I honour the army, or I ſhould never do ſo much to ſerve you.

Indeed I am bound to you for ever Doctor, and when once I'm poſſeſſed of my dear Lauretta, I will endeavour to make work for you as faſt as poſſible.

Now you put me in mind of my poor wife a⯑gain.

Ah, pray forget her a little, we ſhall be too late.

Poor Dolly.

'Tis paſt twelve.

Inhuman dropſy.

The Juſtice will wait.

Cropt in her prime.

For heaven's ſake come.

Well, fleſh is graſs.

O the devil!

We muſt all die.

Doctor.

Kings, Lords and common Whores.—

I repeat it again mama, officers are the pretti⯑eſt men in the world, and Lieutenant O'Conner is the prettieſt officer I ever ſaw.

For ſhame Laura, how can you talk ſo—or if you muſt have a military man, there's Lieutenant Plow or Captain Haycock, or Major Dray the Brewer; are all your admirers, and though they are peaceable good [9] kind, of men they have as large cockades, and become ſcarlet as well as the fighting folks.

Pſha! you know mama I hate militia officers, a ſet of dunghill cocks, with ſpurs on heroes ſcratch'd off a church door. Clowns in military maſquerade, wea⯑ring the dreſs without ſupporting the character. No, give me the bold upright youth, who makes love to-day and his head ſhot off to-morrow. Dear to think how the ſweet fellows ſleep on the ground, and fight in ſilk ſtockings and lace ruffles.

Oh barbarous! to want a huſband that may wed you to-day, and be ſent the Lord knows where before night; then in a twelve month perhaps to have him come like a Coloſſus with one leg at New York, and the other at Chelſea Hoſpital.

Then I'll be his crutch mama.

No, give me a huſband that knows where his limbs are, though he want the uſe of them—and if he ſhould take you with him—to ſleep in a baggage cart, and ſtroll about the camp like a gipſey, with a knapſack and two children at your back—then by way of enter⯑tainment in the evening, to make a party with the Ser⯑jeants wife, to drink bohea tea, and play at all fours on a drumhead, 'tis a precious life to be ſure.

Nay mama, you ſhou'd'nt be againſt my Lieu⯑tenant, for I heard him ſay, you were the beſt natured and beſt looking woman in the world.

Why child, I never ſaid but that Lieutenant O'Conner, was a very well bred and diſcerning young man, 'tis your papa is ſo violent againſt him.

Why couſin Sophy married an officer.

Ay Laury, an officer in the militia.

No indeed, mama, a marching regiment.

No child, I tell you he was a Major of militia.

Indeed mama it wasn't.

Bridget my love, I have had a meſſage—

It was Couſin Sophy told me ſo.

I have had a meſſage, love—

No child, ſhe could ſay no ſuch thing.

A meſſage, I ſay.

How could he be in the militia, when he was ordered abroad.

Ay, girl hold your tongue—well my dear.

I have had a meſſage from Doctor Roſy.

He ordered abroad! He went abroad for his health.

Why Bridget.

Well deare—Now hold your tongue miſs.

A meſſage from Dr Roſy, and Doctor Roſy ſays—

I'm ſure mama his regimentals—

Damn his regimentals—Why don't you liſten?

Ay girl, how durſt you interrupt your papa?

Well papa.

Doctor Roſy ſays he will bring—

Were blue turn'd up with red, mama.

Laury—ſays he will bring the young man.

Red! yellow if you pleaſe, miſs.

Bridget—the young man that is to be hir'd.

Beſides miſs, it is very unbecoming in you to want to have the laſt word with your mama, you ſhould know—

Why zounds! will you hear me or no?

I am liſtening my love—I am liſtening—But what ſignifies my ſilence, what good is my not ſpeaking a word, if this girl will interrupt and let nobody ſpeak but herſelf—Ay, I don't wonder my life, at your im⯑patience, your poor dear lips quiver to ſpeak—but I ſuppoſe ſhe'll run on and not let you put in a word— you may very well be angry—there is nothing ſure ſo provoking, as a chattering, talking—

Nay, I'm ſure mama it is you will not let papa ſpeak now.

Why, you little provoking minx—

Get out of the room directly, both of you, get out.

Ay, go girl.

Go Bridget, you are worſe than ſhe, you old hag, I wiſh you were both up to the neck in the canal to argue there till I took you out.

Doctor Roſy, ſir.

Shew him up.

Then you own mama, it was a marching regi⯑ment.

You're an obſtinate fool, I tell you, for if that had been the caſe—

You won't go.

We are going, Mr Surly—If that had been the caſe, I ſay, how could—

Nay, mama, one proof.

How could major—

And a full proof.

There they go, ding dong in for the day.— Good lack, a fluent tongue is the only thing a mother don't like her daughter ſhould reſemble her in.

Well Doctor, where's the lad, where's truſty?

At hand, he'll be here in a minute—I'll an⯑ſwer for't, he's ſuch a one as you 'an't met with—brave as a lion, gentle as a ſaline draught.

Ah, he comes in the place of a rogue—a dog that was corrupted by the Lieutenant. But this is a ſturdy fellow, is he Doctor?

As Hercules—and the beſt back ſword in the country. Egad he'll make the red coats keep their diſtance.

O the villains! this is St Patrick's Day, and the raſcals have been parading my houſe all the morning. I know they have a deſign upon me, but I have taken all precautions, I have magazines of arms, and if this fellow does but prove faithful, I ſhall be more at eaſe.

Doubtleſs he'll be a comfort to you.

There is a man below ſir, enquires for Doctor oſy.

Shew him up.

Hold—a little caution—how does he look?

A country looking fellow, your worſhip.

O, well well, for Doctor Roſy, theſe raſcals try all ways to get in here.

Yes pleaſe your worſhip, there was one here this morning wanted to ſpeak to you—he ſaid his name was Corporal Breakbones.

Corporal Breakbones!

And Drummer Crackſkull came again.

Ay! did you ever hear of ſuch a damned con⯑founded crew. Well, ſhew the lad in here!

Ay, he'll be your porter, he'll give the rogues an anſwer.

So a tall Efacks, what! has loſt an eye.

Only a bruite he got in taking ſeven or eight highwaymen.

He has a damned wicked leer ſomehow with the other.

O no, he's baſhful—a ſheepiſh look.

Well my lad, what's your name?

Humphrey Hum.

Hum—I don't like Hum.

But I be moſtly called honeſt Humphrey.

There, I told you ſo—of noted honeſty.

Well honeſt Humphrey, the Doctor has told you my terms, and you are willing to ſerve, hey!

And pleaſe your worſhip, I ſhall be well con⯑tent.

Well then, hark'ye honeſt Humphrey, you are ſure now you will never be a rogue—never take a bribe, hey! honeſt Humphrey.

A bribe! What's that?

A very ignorant fellow indeed.

His worſhip hopes you will never part with your honeſty for money, Humphrey.

Noa, noa.

Well ſaid Humphrey—my chief buſineſs with you is to watch the motions of a rake helly fellow here, one Lieutenant O'Conner.

Ay, you don't value the ſoldiers, do you Hum⯑phrey?

Not I—they are but zwaggerers, and you'll ſee they'll be as much affraid of me, as they wou'd of their captain.

And I faith Humphry, you have a pretty cud⯑gel there.

Aye, the zwitch is better than nothing, but I ſhould be glad of a ſtouter, ha' you got ſuch a thing in the houſe as an old coach-pole, or a ſpare bed poſt.

Oon's what a Dragon it is—well Humphrey, come with me, I'll juſt ſhew him to Bridget, Doctor, aud we'll agree, come along honeſt Humphry.

My dear Doctor, now remember to bring the Juſtice preſently to the walk, I have a ſcheme to get in⯑to his confidence at once.

I will, I will.

Why honeſt Humphrey, hey! what the devil are you at?

I was juſt giving him a little advice—well I muſt go for the preſent—good morning to your worſhip —you need not fear the Lieutenant, while he is in your houſe.

Well, get in Humphrey—good morning to you Doctor.

Come along Humphrey. Now I think I am a match for the Lieutenant and all his gang.

COME, ſilence your drum—there is no valour ſtir⯑ring to-day—I thought St Patrick would have given us a Recruit or two to-day.

Mark Serjeant.

Oh! theſe are the lads I was looking for, they have the looks of gentlemen. A'n't you ſingle my lads.

Yes, an pleaſe you, I be quite ſingle, my relations be all dead, thank heavens more or leſs. I have but one poor mother left in the world, and ſhe's an help⯑leſs woman.

Indeed! a very extraordinary caſe—quite your own maſter then—the fitter to ſerve his Majeſty—Can you read?

Noa, I was always too lively to take to learn⯑ing but John here, is main clever at it.

So, what, you're a ſcholar friend.

I was born ſo, meaſter. Feyther kept gram⯑mar ſchool.

Lucky man, in a campaign or two put yourſelf down chaplain to the regiment. And I warrant, you have read of warriors and heroes.

Yes that I have, I have read of jack the Giant killer, and the Dragon of Wantly, and the—noa, I believe that's all in the hero way, except once about a Comet.

Wonderful knowledge! well my heroes, I'll write word to the King of your good intentions, and meet me half an hour hence, at the two Magpies.

We will, your-honour, we will.

But ſtay, for fear I ſhou'dn't ſee you again in the croud, clap theſe little bits of ribbon into your hats.

Our hats are none of the beſt.

Well, meet me at the Magpies, and I'll give you money to buy new ones.

Bleſs your honour, thank your honour.

Jack.

So, here comes one would make a grenadier. Stop friend, will you liſt?

Who ſhall I ſerve under.

Under me to be ſure.

Isn't Lieutenant O'Conner your officer?

He is, and I am Commander over him.

What! be your Serjeants greater than your Captains?

To be ſure we are, 'tis our buſineſs to keep them in order. For inſtance now, the General writes to me, dear Serjeant, or dear Trounce, or dear Serjeant Trounce, according to his hurry, if your Lieutenant does not demean himſelf accordingly, let me know Yours, GENERAL DELUGE.

And do you complain of him often?

No hang him, the lad is good-natur'd at bot⯑tom, ſo I paſs over ſmall things. But hark'ee, between ourſelves, he is moſt confoundedly given to wenching.

Pleaſe your honour, the Doctor is coming this way with his worſhip—We are all ready and have our cues.

Then my dear Trounce, or my dear Serjeant, or my dear Serjeant Trounce, take yourſelf away.

Zounds! the Lieutenant, I ſmell of the black hole already.

I thought I ſaw ſome of the cutthroats.

I fancy not, there's no one but honeſt Humph⯑rey, [16] ha! ods life, here comes ſome of them, we'll ſtay by theſe trees, and let them paſs.

Oh the bloody looking dogs

Holloa, friend, do you ſerve Juſtice Credulous?

I do.

Are you rich?

Noa.

Nor never will with that old ſtingy booby, look here, take it.

What muſt I do for this?

Mark me, our Lieutenant is in love with the old rogue's daughter help us to break his worſhip's bones, and carry off the girl, and you are a made man.

I'll ſee you hang'd firſt, you pack of ſkurry vil⯑lains.

What ſirrah, do you mutiny, lay hold of him.

Nay then, I'll try your armour for you.

Oh, oh! Quarter, quarter.

Trim them, trounce them, break their bones, honeſt Humphrey. What a ſpirit he has!

Aquafortis.

Betray my maſter!

What a miracle of fidelity!

Ay, and it ſhall not go unrewarded—I'll give him ſixpence on the ſpot. Here honeſt Humphrey, there's for yourſelf, as for this bribe,

ſuch traſh is beſt in the hands of juſtice. Now then Doctor, I think I may truſt him to guard the women, while he is with them I may go out with ſafety.

Doubtleſs you may, I'll anſwer for the Lieute⯑nant's behaviour while honeſt Humphrey is with your daughter.

Ay, ay, ſhe ſhall go no where without him. Come along honeſt Humphrey. How rare it is to meet with ſuch a ſervant.

Why you little Truant, how durſt you wander ſo far from the houſe without my leave, do you want to invite that ſcoundrel Lieutenant to ſcale the walls and carry you off?

Lud papa, you are ſo apprehenſive for nothing.

Why huſſey—

Well then, I can't bear to be ſhut up all day ſo like a nun. I am ſure it is enough to make one wiſh to be run away with—and I wiſh I was run away with —I do—and I wiſh the Lieutenant knew it.

You do, do you huſſey? Well I think I'll take pretty good care of you. Here, Humphrey, I leave this lady in your care. Now you may walk about the garden Miſs Pert, but Humphrey ſhall go with you wherever you go. So mind honeſt Humphrey, I am obliged to go abroad for a little while, let no one but yourſelf come near her, don't be ſhame faced you boo⯑by, but keep cloſe to her. And now Miſs, let your Lieutenant or any of his crew come near you if they can.

How this booby ſtares after him.

Lauretta.

Not ſo free fellow.

Lauretta, look on me.

Not ſo free fellow.

No recollection!

Honeſt Humphrey be quiet.

Have you forgot your faithful ſoldier?

Ah! O preſerve me.

'Tis my ſoul your trueſt ſlave, paſſing on your father in this diſguiſe.

Well now I declare this is charming—you are ſo diſguiſed my dear Lieutenant, and you do look ſo de⯑lightfully [18] ugly, I am ſure no one will find you out, ha! ha! ha! you know I am under your protection, papa charg'd you to keep cloſe to me.

True my angel, and thus let me fulfil.

O pray now dear Humphrey.

Nay, 'tis but what old Mittimus commanded.

Laury my—hey! what the devil's here?

Well, now one kiſs and be quiet.

Your very humble ſervant, honeſt Humphrey— don't me—Pray don't let me interrupt you.

Lud papa—Now that's ſo good natur'd—In⯑deed there's no harm—you did not mean any rudeneſs, did you Humphrey?

No indeed miſs, his worſhip knows it is not in me

I know that that you are a lying canting hypo⯑critical ſcoundrel and if you don't take yourſelf out of my ſight.

Indeed papa now I'll tell you how it was, I was ſometime taken with a ſudden giddineſs, and Humphrey ſeeing me begin to totter ran to my aſſiſtance quite frighten'd poor fellow, and took me in his arms.

Oh! was that all, nothing but a little giddineſs, hey!

That's all indeed your worſhip, for ſeeing miſs change colour I ran up inſtantly.

O 'twas very kind in you.

And luckily recovered her.

And who made you a doctor, you impudent raſ⯑cal, hey! get out of my ſight I ſay this inſtant or by all the ſtatutes.

O now, papa you frighten me and I am giddy again—oh help.

O dear lady—ſhe'll fall.

Zounds! what before my face—why then thou miracle of impudence

Mercy on me who have we here, Murder—Robbery— [19] Fire—Rape—Gun—powder—Soldiers—John—Suſan Bridgett—

Good ſir, don't be alarm'd, I mean you no harm.

Thieves, Robbers, Soldiers.

You know my love for your daughter.

Fire, Cutthroats.

And that alone.

Treaſon, Gunpowder.

Now Scoundrel let her go this inſtant.

O papa, you'll kill me.

Honeſt Humphrey, be adviſed—Ay miſs this way if you pleaſe.

Nay ſir, but hear me.

I'll ſhoot.

And you'll be convinc'd.

I'll ſhoot.

How injurious.

I'll ſhoot, and ſo your very humble ſervant, Honeſt Humphrey Hum.

Well I think my friend is now in a fair way of ſucceeding. Ah! I warrant he is full of hope and fear, doubt and anxiety; truly he has the fever of love ſtrong upon him; faint, peeviſh, languiſhing all day with burning reſtleſs nights—Ah! juſt my caſe when I pin'd for my poor dear Dolly—When ſhe uſed to have her daily cholics, that her little Doctor be ſent for—Then wou'd I interpret the language of her pulſe—Declare my own ſufferings in my receipt for her, ſend her a pearl necklace in a pill box—or a cordial draught, with an acroſtic on the label.—Well thoſe days are over—no happineſs laſting—all is vanity—now ſun-ſhine—now cloudy—we are as it were, king and beggar—then what avails—

O Doctor, ruin'd and undone.

The pride of beauty.

I am diſcovered and—

The gaudy palace.

The juſtice is—

The pompous wig.

Is more enraged than ever.

The gilded cane.

Why Doctor

Hey!

Confound your morals, I tell you I am diſco⯑vered, diſcomfited, diſappointed, ruin'd.

Indeed! good lack, good lack, to think of the inſtability of human affairs—Nothing certain in this world—moſt deceived when moſt confident—fools of for⯑tune all.

My dear Doctor, I want at preſent a little practical wiſdom—I am reſolv'd this inſtant to try the ſcheme, we were going to put in execution laſt week—I have the letter ready, and only want your aſſiſtance to recover my ground.

With all my heart—I'll warrant you I'll bear a part in it—but how the deuce were you diſcovered?

I'll tell you as we go, there's not a moment to be loſt.

Heaven ſend we ſucceed better, but there's no knowing.

Very true.

We may, and we may not.

Right.

Time muſt ſhow.

Certainly.

We are but blind gueſſers.

Nothing more.

Thick ſighted mortals.

Remarkably.

Wandering in error.

Even ſo.

Futurity is dark.

As a cellar.

Men are moles.

Odds Life Bridgett, you are enough to make one mad, I tell you he would have deceived a chief juſtice, the dog ſeem'd as ignorant as my clerk, and talk'd of honeſty as if he had been a church Warden.

Po! Nonſenſe, honeſty indeed!—What had you to do pray with honeſty:—A fine buſineſs you have made of it with your Humphrey Hum, and Miſs too, ſhe muſt have been privy to it.—Lauretta, ay, you would have her called ſo, but for my part I never knew any good come of giving girls theſe heathen chriſtian names; if you had called her Deborah, or Tabitha, or Ruth, or Rebecca, or Joan, nothing of this had ever happened; but I always knew Lauretta was a runaway name.

Pſha, you're a fool.

No, Mr Credilous, it is you who are a fool, and no one but ſuch a ſimpleton would be ſo impoſed on.

Why zounds! Madam, how durſt you talk ſo, if you have no reſpect for your huſband, I ſhould think unus quorum might command a little deference.

Don't tell me—Unus findleſtick, you ought to be aſham'd to ſhew your face at the ſeſſions, you'll be a laughing ſtock to the whole bench, and a byeword with all the pig-tail'd Lawyers, and bag-wig'd Attornies about town.

Is this language for his Majeſty's Repreſentative, by the ſtatutes, its high treaſon, and petty treaſon both at once.

A letter for your worſhip.

Who brought it?

A ſoldier.

Take it away and bury it.

Stay—Now you're in ſuch a hurry—it is ſome canting ſcrawl from the Lieutenant, I ſuppoſe, let me ſee—Ay. 'tis ſign'd O'Conner.

Well, come read it out.

"Revenge is ſweet"

It begins ſo, does it? I'm glad of that, I'll let the dog know I'm of his opinion.

"And though diſappointed of my deſigns upon your daughter, I have ſtill the ſatisfaction of know⯑ing I'm revenged on her unnatural father, for this morning, in your chocolate, I had the pleaſure to ad⯑miniſter to you a doze of poiſon."—Mercy on us!

No tricks, Bridgett, come you know it is not ſo, you know it is a lie.

Read it yourſelf.

"Pleaſure to adminiſter a doze of poiſon"— Oh horrible—Cutthroat villain—Bridgett.

Lovee, ſtay here's a poſtcript. N. B. 'Tis not in the power of medicine to ſave you.

Odds my life Bridgett, why don't you call for help? I've loſt my voice—My brain is giddy—I ſhall burſt and no aſſiſtance.—John—Laury—John.

You ſee lovee what you have brought on your⯑ſelf.

Your worſhip.

Stay, John, did you perceive any thing in my chocolate cup this morning?

Nothing your worſhip, unleſs it was a little grounds.

What colour were they?

Blackiſh, your worſhip.

Ay, arſenac, black arſenac. Why don't you run for Doctor Roſy, you raſcal?

Now ſir.

O lovee, you may be ſure it is in vain, let him run for the Lawyer to witneſs your will, my life.

Zounds! go for the Doctor, you ſcoundrel. You are all confederate murderers.

O, here he is your worſhip.

Now Bridgett, hold your tongue, and let me ſee if my horrid ſituation be apparent.

I have but juſt called to inform—hey! bleſs me, what's the matter with your worſhip?

There he ſees it already—Poiſon in my face, in ca⯑pitals. Yes, yes, I'm a ſure job for the undertakers indeed.

Oh! Oh! alas Doctor.

Peace Bridgett. Why Doctor, my dear old friend, do you really ſee any change in me?

Change, Never was man ſo altered, how came theſe black ſpots on your noſe?

Spots on my noſe!

And that wild ſtare in your right eye.

In my right eye!

Aye, and alack, alack, how you are ſwelled!

Swelled!

Aye, don't you think he is, madam?

O, 'tis in vain to conceal it, indeed lovee, you are as big again as you was this morning.

Yes, I feel it now—I'm poiſon'd—Doctor help me for the love of juſtice—Give me life to ſee my mur⯑derer hang'd.

What!

I'm poiſon'd I ſay.

Speak out.

What! can't you hear me?

Your voice is ſo low and hallow as it were, I can't hear a word you ſay.

I'm gone then, hic jacet. Many years one of his Majeſty's Juſtices.

Read Doctor—Ali, lovee the will—Conſider, my life, how ſoon you will be dead.

No Bridgett, I ſhall die by inches.

I never heard ſuch monſtrous iniquity. Oh, you are gone indeed my friend, the mortgage of your little bit of clay is out, and the ſexton has nothing to do but to cloſe. We muſt all go ſooner or later— High and low—Death's a debt, his mandamus binds all alike—No bail, no demurrer.

Silence Doctor Croaker, will you cure me or will you not?

Alas, my dear friend, it is not in my power, but I'll certainly ſee juſtice done on your murderer.

I thank you, my dear friend, but I had rather ſee it myſelf.

Ay, but if you recover the villain will eſcape.

Will he? then indeed it would be a pity you ſhou'd recover, I am ſo enraged againſt the villain, I can't bear the thought of his eſcaping the halter.

That's very kind in you, my dear, but if its the ſame thing to you, my dear, I had as ſoon recover not⯑withſtanding. What Doctor, no aſſiſtance!

Eſacks I can do nothing, but there's the Ger⯑man Quack whom you wanted to ſend from town, I met him at the next door, and I know he has antidotes for all poiſons.

Fetch him, my dear friend, fetch him, I'll get him a diploma if he cures me.

Well, there's no time to be loſt, you continue to ſwell immenſely.

What, my dear, will you ſubmit to be cured by a Quack Noſtrum monger? for my part as much as I love you, I had rather follow you to your grave, than ſee you owe your life to any but a regular bred phyſician.

I'm ſenſible of your affection, deareſt, and be aſſured nothing conſoles me more in my melancholy ſi⯑tuation, ſo much as the thoughts of leaving you behind me.

Great luck, met him paſſing by the door.

Metto dowſei pulſum.

He deſires to feel your pulſe.

Can't he ſpeak Engliſh?

Not a word.

Palio vivem mortem ſoonem.

He ſays you have not ſix hours to live.

O mercy! does he know my diſtemper?

I believe not.

Tell him 'tis black arſnick they have given me.

Geneable illi arſnecca.

Piſonatus.

What does he ſay?

He ſays that you are poiſon'd.

We know that, but what will be the effect?

Quid effectum?

Diable tutellem.

He ſays you die preſently.

Oh horrible! What no antedote.

Curum benakeré bono fullum.

What does he ſay, I muſt row in a boat to Ful⯑ham.

He ſays he'll undertake to cure you for L. 3000.

L. 3000! 3000 halters, no lovee you ſhall ne⯑ver ſubmit to ſuch impoſitions, die at once and be a cuſtomer to none of them.

I won't die Bridgett—I don't like death.

Pſha, there is nothing in it, a moment and it is over.

Ay, but it leaves a numbneſs behind that laſts for a plaguy long time.

O my dear, pray do conſider the will.

O my father, what is it I hear.

Quiddam ſeomriam deos tollam roſam.

The doctor is aſtoniſh'd at the ſight of your fair daughter.

How ſo?

Damſellum livivum ſuvum riſlibani.

He ſays that he has loſt his heart to her, and that if you will give him leave to pay his addreſſes to the young lady, and promiſe your conſent to the union if he ſhould gain her affections, he will on thoſe condi⯑tions cure you inſtantly, without ſee or reward.

The devil! did he ſay all that in ſo few words —what a fine language it is. Well, I agree, if he can prevail on the girl—and that I am ſure he never will.

Greal.

Writhum bothum.

He ſays you muſt give this under your hand, while he writes you a miraculous receipt.

Do mama, tell me the meaning of this.

Don't ſpeak to me girl.—Unnatural parent.

There doctor, there's what he requires.

And here's your receipt, read it yourſelf.

Hey! what's here! plain Engliſh.

Read it out, a wondrous noſtrum, I'll anſwer for it.

"In reading this you are cured, by your affec⯑tionate ſon-in-law, O'Conner." Who in the name of Belzebub ſirrah, who are you?

Your affectionate ſon-in-law O'Conner, and your very humble ſervant, Humphrey Hum.

'Tis falſe you dog, you are not my ſon-in-law, for I'll be poiſon'd again, and you ſhall be hang'd— I'll die ſirrah, and leave Bridgett my Eſtate.

Ay, Pray do my dear, leave me your Eſtate, I'm ſure he deſerves to be hang'd.

He does you ſay—hark'ee Bridgett, you ſhew'd ſuch a tender concern for me when you thought me poi⯑ſon'd, that for the future I am reſolv'd never to take your advice again in any thing. So, do you hear ſir, you are an Iriſhman, and a ſoldier, ar'n't you?

I am ſir, and proud of both.

The two things on earth I moſt hate, ſo I'll tell you what, renounce your country, and fell your com⯑miſſion, and I'll forgive you.

Hark'e Mr Juſtice, If you were not the father of my Lauretta, I would pull your noſe for aſking the firſt, and break your bones for deſiring the ſecond.

Aye, aye, you're right.

Is he, then I'm ſure I muſt be wrong. Here ſir. I give my daughter to you, who are the moſt im⯑pudent dog, I ever ſaw in my life.

O ſir, ſay what you pleaſe, with ſuch a gift as Lauretta, every word is a compliment.

Well my lovee, I think this will be a good ſub⯑ject for us to quarrel about the reſt of our lives.

Why truly, my dear, I think ſo, tho' we are ſeldom at a loſs for that.

This is all as it ſhould be. My Alexander, I give you joy, and you my little god-daughter; and now my ſincere wiſh is, that you may make juſt ſuch a wife as my poor dear Dolly.