SCENE I. Witmore's Chambers in the Temple.

Really, George, your ſituation is ſo critical that I am not lawyer enough to adviſe you. Sir Solomon, your father-in-law, ſtill ſo inflexible, ſay you?

As poſitiveneſs and parſimony can make him. It is not above two years ſince I married ; and, notwithſtanding every proper ſubmiſſion on my part, the earneſt and repeated ſolicitations of his daughter, and the warmeſt interceſſions of our friends, he ſtill ſeems inexorable as ever.

That's ſtrange! Time generally ſoftens reſentments of this kind. But the love of money, and an habitual paſſion for artificial trifles, extinguiſh the ſparks of natural affection. As I have acquired, however ſome credit with him, I will try, when he comes to town, how far my influence extends. And yet, Boothby, this may be carrying my friendſhip for you too far.

Why ſo?

You know he has a niece, who came over ſome time ſince from India to finiſh her education.

I am told he has adopted her for his daughter ; and in her favour, it is ſuppoſed, will diſinherit my wife.

In which caſe, if I ſhould become her huſband—

You!

I! Why not, if the lady will have me?

And have you any ſerious thoughts of Emilia?

Why, really I do think ſeriouſly of her ſometimes. The month, I ſpent, during the laſt vacation at Sir Solomon's country ſeat, gave me an opportunity of ſeeing a number of good qualities in her. She is young, it is true ; but that's a fault one may eaſily put up with in a woman.

Nay, I know little of her.—Sir Solomon and his lady have ſtrictly prohibited her having any intercourſe with Mrs. Boothby.

To reconcile you, therefore, to them now, will be at leaſt a diſintereſted proof of my regard for you, George.

It will ſo, and yet no greater than I expect from it. Your generoſity of diſpoſition, Witmore—

Nay, no compliments between friends.—On what terms are you with your own relation? With Lord Lovemore, and his brother-in-law, General Gantlet?

On the beſt, if I may depend on their profeſſions. His Lordſhip is now exerting his intereſt to procure me a regi⯑ment ; and, as he tells me, with confidence of ſucceſs.

I am glad of it—Your promotion may have a good effect on Sir Solomon.

In the mean time, however, the pay of a Captain of foot, Witmore, is ſo diſproportioned to the way of living in this gay town—

That you cannot indulge in the pleaſures of it.

Nay, hardly ſubſiſt very creditably, and pay the court that is neceſſary to preferment.

What think you of my laying open your circumſtan⯑ces to the General? He is my client, and I know you are down for ſomething handſome in his will.

Yes, but I am afraid he'll not be prevailed on to part with any thing while he lives.

Well, you muſt comfort yourſelf then by reflecting that cannot be long. He is ſo fond of duelling, that ſome an⯑tagoniſt or other will ſoon kill him, or he will come to be hanged for killing his antagoniſt. He narrowly eſcaped the laſt time he killed his man, as he calls it, and yet he's as captious and quarrelſome as ever.

He is, indeed, unaccountably exceptious. But, here he comes.

Well, Barriſter, how is it? —What, George Boothby! By the lord, my boy, I am heartily glad to ſee thee.

I thank you, General. I hope I have the plea⯑ſure of ſeeing you well to-day?

Never better, my dear boy. —I have juſt had the ſuperlative ſatisfaction of chaſtiſing a ſcoundrel.

What tilting again, General?

A cool thruſt only—But 'twas in him—I paid the raſcal home. Here—here—Boothby—here I had him— through—fairly through, by the dignity of man!

Not his body, I hope.

His midriſſ! that's all!

You alarm me, General—who—where?

Nay don't concern thyſelf, my dear boy—The rogue was in luck—a ſimple perſoration, the ſurgeon called it ; he tells me there is no danger.

I am glad to hear that.

And pray, General, what was the cauſe of quarrel? How did your antagoniſt offend you?

Me! Barriſter! He did not offend me. —Give me thy hand, Boothby, I have done thee an injury ; which nothing but the height of friendſhip in me can excuſe, and the moſt exalted ſublimity of it in thee forgive.

What is all this? How can you have ſo highly injured me, General? Be how it will, I promiſe you I forgive you with all my heart.

I knew thou waſt a good-natured lad and would overlook it, or, by the Lord, thou ſhouldſt have taken him our thyſelf.

How, General! Have you been taking up a quar⯑rel of mine :—It was obliging in you ; —but I could wiſh—

Oh! Sir! it's enough, I underſtand you, —you are perfectly in the right, I ſhould have been more puncti⯑lious. —It was impertinent in me, to be ſure. —A friend may be ſometimes too officious. —However, Sir, if you are diſſatis⯑fied, I am at your ſervice. —Call me out—You can fight—I draw my ſword for no man who dares not draw his own.

Nay, but underſtand me, General. If you have taken up any cauſe of mine, I am ſo far from reſenting it as an injury, that I think myſelf obliged to you. You know I am as tenacious of the punctilio as yourſelf ; and would never be ſo rude as to take up the cauſe of a ſtranger : but among friends it is quite another thing.

Right, boy. When I commanded in Ireland, my doublet was pinked like the flounces of a fine lady's ſilk petticoat ; and all in the cauſe of my friends. The man who would not be run through the body for his friend, ought to be kicked out of the world for a ſcoundrel.

An heroic ſentiment, General. —But who was your antagoniſt? I hope, for your ſake, he's really out of danger.

Nay, the raſcal himſelf, I believe, is hardly worth the care of the ſurgeon. I ſhould have wiped my conta⯑minated [5] ſword and left him to his fate, but that it would have been too great an honour for him to die by the hands of a gen⯑tlemen.

And yet, General, I am afraid your magnanimity will one day or other betray you into the doing ſome raſcal or other that honour.

Well Sir, and what then? Would you inſinuate that a gentleman has not a right to do himſelf juſtice by put⯑ting to death a ſcoundrel?

By the laws, General?

By the laws of honour, Sir.

Yes, Sir, and by the laws of the land too, if he have a mind to be hanged for it, A man may break all the laws in the ſtatute book, if he be diſpoſed to pay the penalties.

How, Sir? ſhall not I annihilate a raſcal? Do the laws of England afford protection to ſcoundrels?

To a great number, noble General : and ſo do the laws of honour too ; by which the ſcoundrel has as often the advantage of the man of honour as the man of honour of the ſcoundrel. Let us ſuppoſe, General, that your antagoniſt's ſkill or agility had been greater than yours; would that have conferred probity on him or reflected infamy on you?

Infamy on me, Sir!

Excuſe me, General, I ſpeak only by way of hy⯑potheſis.

Hypotheſis! Sir! Rot your hypotheſis, Sir.

Boothby, have you ſeen the peer to-day.

Lord Lovemore? No, Sir.

Then you don't know how his affair has ended.

What affair, General?

With the fellow, that affronted him laſt night.

I heard nothing of it.

Come, come along with me, then. I muſt know how it ended [turning about to Witmore.] Hypotheſis! Ha! Mr. Barriſter!

No offence, I hope, General! I think I could put a caſe in point—

A caſe in point! With the point of honour, Sir? Offence, Sir! Yes Sir, there is offence, Sir. —Come, come along, Boothby. Theſe lawyers of the Inns of Court know nothing of the laws of honour! —Hypotheſis, Ha! Mr. Barriſter! Come along, Boothby, Hypotheſis! Quotha!

Ha! ha! ha! What a captious mortal! Could he find nobody elſe to quarrel with, he would certainly take exceptions at himſelf and tilt with his own ſhadow!

A card from Sir Solomon Bauble, Sir.

I did not know he was in London. [reads the card.] ‘Sir Solomon Bauble's compliments to Mr. Witmore—would be glad to conſult him on a family affair, that concerns him nearly.’ —If this ſhould be Boothby's buſineſs now! I wiſh it may. —Is the meſſenger gone?

No, Sir, he is without.

Let me ſee him.

SCENE II. An Apartment at Lord Lovemore's.

Inſupportable! is it not enough, my Lord, that I have given ſcope to your licentiouſneſs, by winking at your gallantries, that you would make me openly countenance [7] them? Do you think me really ſo blind as not to ſee your de⯑ſigns on Mrs. Boothby?

Look you, Madam, while I contribute to your pleaſures I expect you will not controul mine.

My pleaſures, as you call them, my Lord, are unexceptionable. I have no amuſements but what are common to women of quality.

Nor I any but what are common to men of quality. In a word, Lady Lovemore, we have been too long married to impoſe any longer on the world, and we ought to know the world too well to impoſe any longer on ourſelves.

In what? my Lord!

In keeping up the appearance of domeſtic harmony, which no longer ſubſiſts.

Appearances govern the world, my Lord ; and it is they impoſe on themſelves, who will not enjoy the ſhadow becauſe they have loſt the ſubſtance.

Then you think we once poſſeſſed it.

I thought we married for love, my Lord.

I thought ſo too : but I believe we were both miſtaken.

Why ſo?

Becauſe there has been ſo little loſt between us, and yet there ſeems to be none left.

The want of love, my Lord, ſhould not ba⯑niſh decency.

But it ſhould baniſh jealouſy, Madam.

Then your Lordſhip thinks me jealous, and yet you imagine there is as little love left on my ſide as yours.

The leſs the better, as there is no ſatisfying the ſurmizes of a ſuſpicious woman.

Indeed, my Lord, you are miſtaken. You do it effectually by converting ſuſpicion into certainty. I have learned to ſupport the being an object of private neglect, but I am not quite ſo meek as to ſit down expoſed to public con⯑tempt.

You may avoid it, madam, by retiring from public notice. Our houſe in Glouceſterſhire is ready to re⯑ceive you ; and, if you except to the company, I keep, in town, you may keep what company you pleaſe in the country. The poſt-coach ſhall be ready tomorrow morning, unleſs Mrs. Boothby makes one of our party to-night.

My Lord, my Lord, I will ſee my brother Gantlet before I determine to ſtay or go.

Your brother Gantlet, madam! Do you mean to intimidate me with your family bully? Let that bluſ⯑terer interfere, and I will immure you in the country for life.

The country! And at this time of year! What cruelty? Is it poſſible your Lordſhip can be in earneſt?

Your Ladyſhip may put me to the trial, if you diſlike the alternative. I leave you a moment to delibe⯑rate on the choice.

Barbarous tyrant! He knows, I doat upon living in town, and deteſt the gloomy ſolitude of his Glouceſterſhire dungeon. I will ſometime or other be revenged on him for this treatment. My brother's temper indeed is ſo violent, that, unleſs things are carried to extremity, his remedy may be worſe than the di⯑ſeaſe. But I will diſſemble with this inſolent intriguer of mine ; and, if I have art enough, defeat the execution of his deſigns by counteracting him. —I ſhall be able to do this the more ef⯑fectually by ſtaying in town. —Mrs. Boothby is at preſent, I believe, a woman of honour, and loves her huſband ; whom Lord Lovemore is flattering with favours and feeding with pro⯑miſes, in order to effect the ſeduction of his wife! What trai⯑tors [9] are men! And mine the moſt inſulting of traitors! With what an air of aſſurance did he in fact confeſs it. ‘Look you, Madam, while I contribute to your pleaſures, I expect you will not controul mine.’ But, if Boothby and his wife are not two errant idiots, I will controul your pleaſures, my fine ſcheming Lord, even while you think I am contributing to them. —Here, Echo! Bring me pens, ink, and paper.

Pens, ink and paper, my Lady?

It is plain you heard, Mrs. Pert.

Heard Mrs. Pert! my Lady!

Wilt thou never leave off that odious trick of repeating one's words?

Repeating your words, my Lady?

Canſt thou ſay nothing, wench, but what I ſay?

Nothing but what you ſay, my Lady?

Out of my ſight, thou incorrigible wretch.

Wretch, my Lady!

Begone, I ſay-

Gone, my Lady.

Well, Madam, have you reflected on my propoſal? Do you chuſe to reſide in town or in the country? in London or Glouceſterſhire?

You know, my Lord, I hate Glouceſter⯑ſhire.

Well, madam, to indulge your inclination for company ; what ſay you to Somerſetſhire? To Bath?

Out of the ſeaſon, my Lord! I would as willingly go out of the world.

Well, madam, you know the conditions of our reſidence under the ſame roof, in town.

Why, look you, my Lord, as I know you may plead precedent among a number of our acquaintance, if I thought you would pay any tolerable regard to appearances, I might compound with you. It may be prudent for a neg⯑lected wife to ſeem eaſy under the indifference of her huſband ; but ſhe muſt be meek and mean-ſpirited indeed, if ſhe can ſub⯑mit to be inſulted by his miſtreſs. Not that I think you will ſucceed with Mrs. Boothby. She is, I believe, ſo fond of her huſband, that, I am perſuaded, I may ſafely truſt her with you.

Do ſo then, and be ſatisfied if I keep up appearances, as you term it.

I will, my Lord, and hope to fit you too at the keeping up of appearances.

SCENE III. An Apartment at Sir Solomon Bauble's.

Pooh, Sir Solomon, what a rout is here about an old ruſty counter and a roll of cinder-coloured parchment? I ſuppoſe Mrs. Bruſh has flirted them away in duſting the din⯑ing-room. —Mrs. Bruſh! —

No, no. My lady! I tell you I have been rob⯑bed, plundered! I have loſt two curioſities that would have cauſed the muſeum at Bauble-hall to be admired by all the antiquaries and connoiſſeurs in Europe. An Otho, in the high⯑eſt preſervation, and a Greek manuſcript dug out of the ruins of Herculaneum! [11]

Who has been here, huſſey, in my abſence this morn⯑ing?

Nobody, Sir.

Nobody, Sir! But, I ſay, ſomebody has been here—ſomebody muſt have been here. Where's my antique? my Otho?

Indeed, Sir, here has been nobody but Dr. Bird⯑lime and another of the letterati from the Antic-queerian So⯑ciety.

And you ſhew'd theſe nobodies into the dining-room, did you?

As I knew your worſhip knew one of the gentle⯑men, Sir, and I thoft the other gentlemen was another gentle⯑man ; and eſpecially as they were both Antic-queerians, I thoft them next kin to nobody. Indeed I thoft no harm, Sir.

You thoft! you thoughtleſs baggage! who taught you to think? Get you gone about your buſineſs!

Here's a fuſs indeed about their Othurs and anticks. [Exit BRUSH.

Dr. Birdlime eh! Yes, yes, I knew if ever he came in the way, my medals would ſtick to his fingers. But if I do not proſecute the pilſering quack with the utmoſt ſeve⯑rity of the law. —Egad, I'll go to Sir John Fielding and take out a warrant to ſearch his houſe immediately.

Fiddle faddle, Sir Solomon, the copper-ſmith, who made that Otho, can make another ; and, as for the loſs of your manuſcript, I'll preſent your muſeum with my ſenti⯑mental journey to Margate ; which Dr. Pompous ſays is worth all the manuſcripts of Herculaneum put together. —But come, Sir Solomon, we have matters to mind of more importance. — I have communicated to your niece Emmeline, the arrival of [12] her intended huſband, Governor Mammon, from India, and bade her prepare to receive him accordingly.

Well, and ſhe was overjoyed at the news! Eh!

Quite the reverſe.

How!

The family ſeems doomed, Sir Solomon, to have all its projects fruſtrated by the perverſeneſs of unduti⯑ful children. Your daughter threw herſelf away on that Captain Boothby, a young fellow not worth a groat, and here is your niece averſe truly to marry governor Mammon, a man as rich as a nabob.

And yet you would have forgiven your daughter, as you will your niece, I ſuppoſe.

I forgive them, Sir Solomon! I would have you to know that I have a ſpirit as implacable and unforgiving as yourſelf.

Poh! Poh! You, fooliſh women, are eaſily pre⯑vailed on to do any thing. But why my daughter, and my niece? Madam! Why not your daughter and your niece? No ſuch perverſeneſs runs in the blood of the Baubles. They would marry any toy for money.

I thank you, huſband, but, vain as you are, I did not marry you for love. The family of the Trinkets, whence I am deſcended, never ſacrificed their intereſt to their paſſions, or indulged indeed any paſſion but that of intereſt.

It is much, wiſe, that children ſhould not take after their parents.

You a philoſopher, huſband, and not know that the commixture of two limpid fluids will ſometimes gene⯑rate opacity. Would you have me account for the irregulari⯑ties of a luſus naturae, or unravel the tortuoſities of a froward imagination.

No, No. That is a taſk a little beyond the ca⯑pacity of a woman.

The capacity of a woman, Sir! And do you ſtill maintain the prepoſterous abſurdity of ſuperior intellect in man? Does not hiſtory afford innumerable inſtances of equal endowments in women? What were Semiramis, Artemiſia, Thomyris, Zenobia, and the no leſs eminent Arataphila, among the ancients?

Zounds! What a ſtring have I touched upon? Now will ſhe run over the catalogue of all the cunning gypſies and female fortune-tellers that have plagued the world, from the witch of Endor down to mother Shipton.

What were Catherine de Medicis, Lucretia, Cornaro, Anna Maria Schurman, and Madam Dacier, among the moderns?

All female furies, or petticoated pedants, I dare anſwer for them.

Nay, among our contemporaries, is not my Lady Betty Comment a ſecond Ariſtotle? Mrs. Politic another Tacitus? And does not Madam Sweet-wort, the brewer's wife at Redriff, write odes with the pen of a Pindar? —Does not—

How dare you, Sir, come in without knocking at the door?

A reprieve! —A reprieve! —Come, come in, Thomas, my lady is only a little in her female altitudes this morning. What's the matter?

A letter from Governor Mammon, Sir, —His chairmen have ſet down two cheſts in the hall ; a preſent, they ſay, to your worſhip and my Lady.

A preſent! Eh! Are the Cheſts heavy, Tho⯑mas?

Very heavy, an't pleaſe your worſhip.

The more heavy, the more likely to be wel⯑come, Thomas. A cheſt of guineas might be too light! Give the fellows ſomething to drink, and I'll come to you preſently.

The capa⯑city of women truly!

Prithee, my Lady, don't let ſuch a trifle diſturb you. Governor Mammon is arrived in town, and has ſent you a preſent this morning to put you in a good humour. And I doubt not, when I come to talk to my niece, ſhe will receive him as ſhe ought to do. The Governor, I ſee, knows how to recommend himſelf.

To be ſure the ſuperiority of your maſculine underſtanding, Sir Solomon, muſt prevail on my niece to do any thing. As to the Governor, indeed, it muſt be owned his oriental manner of making approaches by preſents, is a capti⯑vating mode of addreſs. But let us ſee what he has ſent us : the letter, I ſuppoſe, will inform you.

Ay, let us ſee, let us ſee.

‘Governor Mammon preſents his compliments to Sir Solomon Bauble and Lady : will take the earlieſt op⯑portunity of paying them his perſonal reſpects, and of claim⯑ing his right in their amiable niece. In the mean time, begs Lady Bauble's acceptance of—’ Very polite and well-worded indeed.

Acceptance of what, Sir Solomon?

Ay, let us ſee, let us ſee.

‘Begs Lady Bauble's acceptance of a cheſt of ornamental china.’

Magnificent, no doubt, and worth my accep⯑tance!

Piſh! a parcel of pot-bellied pagods and niddle⯑noddle mandarins; toys for fooliſh women, and play-things for children.

Fooliſh women, again, Sir Solomon! I would have you to know—

I do. I do. You have told me of it a thou⯑ſand times already.

What have I told you, Sir.

That fooliſh women are prodigiouſly wiſe, ma⯑dam. But pray let us ſee what the Governor has ſent me.

‘And Sir Solomon's of two curioſities, he hopes not unworthy a place in the muſeum of ſo celebrated a vir⯑tuoſo : the one a manuſcript ſermon of an Eaſtern Bramin on the duty of women—to bury themſelves with their de⯑ceaſed huſbands.’

Horrid! Why the importation of oriental manuſcripts ſhould be prohibited with popiſh maſs-books.

Yes, wife, if they were likely to make as many converts. But the Bramins will make no proſelytes here. Our wanton widows would rather run the riſk of killing a ſecond huſband than bury themſelves with the firſt.

What fooliſh women, Sir Solomon, not to be guided by your wiſe men of the Eaſt!

Ha! What's this?

The other! —Sure my ſpectacles deceive me!

No. It is—It is— [16] The mummy of an Egyptian Princeſs! Ineſtimable! Invalua⯑ble! A preſent for a King! Have my niece! He deſerves the niece of an Emperor! The mummy of an Egyptian Princeſs! I ſhall be the envy of all the virtuoſi, the connoſcenti, the di⯑lettanti in Europe.

The old fool! In raptures with an odious mummy! How wonderful the ſuperiority of maſculine wiſ⯑dom!

Nay, don't be jealous, my lady, but I can't con⯑tain my tranſports. I muſt fly to the preſence of her highneſs, my Egyptian Princeſs.

SCENE I. Capt. Boothby's Lodgings at Mrs. Goodwill's.

You ſurprize me, Mrs. Goodwill! General Gantlet fight a duel about me! For what?

Oh, madam! General Gantlet, they ſay, will fight a duel about any body and for any thing.

Yes! but ſurely not about any body for nothing! What could be ſaid of me to provoke him?

Some young ſpark, it ſeems, at the tilt⯑yard, obſerved that Lord Lovemore was fond of promoting officers that had pretty wives.

And how did that regard me?

Nay, madam, you need not beg a compli⯑ment ; but the ſarcaſm was plainly levelled at the lady of Captain Boothby.

How impudent is calumny! Deteſtable ſtanderers! Lord Lovemore, Mrs. Goodwill, is one of the moſt generous of men.

They ſay, indeed, madam, that he is very generous where he takes.

Where he takes! What do you mean, Mrs. Goodwill? Do you imagine then his Lordſhip has any deſigns on me?

Have you no reaſon to imagine it, then, madam?

None in the world! His behaviour to me has been always the moſt diſtant and reſpectful.

It may not be the leſs deſigning for that, madam.

Indeed I have hardly ever ſeen him but in company with his Lady.

And that you think the ſafeſt, madam?

Doubtleſs!

There are very condeſcending wives, among women of rank in this licentious age, madam.

Fie, fie, Mrs. Goodwill, there can be women of no rank ſo condeſcending as you would inſinuate. — You are too cenſorious; by much too cenſorious, Mrs. Good⯑will. I beg you will throw out no ſuch injurious intimations againſt any one in my hearing again.

I am ſorry my freedom of ſpeech ſhould offend, madam. [Aſide as ſhe goes out] Poor young lady! She knows little of the ways of theſe wicked times!

Bleſs me! What ſtrange notions enter into the heads of ſome people!

My dear Mrs. Boothby, how do you to day? I was determined to be my own meſſenger this morning, that no accident might deprive me of your company. You muſt be of our party to night. A little, private, ſelect party, quite among ourſelves. I came on purpoſe to take no denial.

Your Ladyſhip is ſo obliging ; but indeed I' had a pre-engagement.

I will hear of no pre-engagements. You muſt come and play a pool at quadrille with the ladies; while my Lord and the Captain are engaged with the gentlemen at whiſt.

Mr. Boothby, madam, hath ſolemnly re⯑nounced the game.

Raſh vows, Mrs. Boothby, you know, are made to be broke. My Lord will overcome his ſcruples on that ſcore, I warrant you, ſo that you can have no excuſe.

In that caſe, my Lady, I will certainly do myſelf the pleaſure to wait on you.

Nay, you poſitively muſt come ; we cannot do without you. You will pardon me, my dear, but I muſt excuſe myſelf at twenty other places—Nay—you ſhan't ſtir— My chair is in the hall. —Adieu, my dear Mrs. Boothby.

How perfectly well-bred and obliging! How can Mrs. Goodwill think ill of ſuch a woman? Really, theſe good people who let lodgings are too apt to ſpeak ill of their betters. —And yet, ſomehow, I don't like the tale ſhe told me about General Gantlet. She has ſeen much of the world, and appears to be a diſcerning kind of woman. I know not whether I ſhould altogether ſlight her hints. They were given too with ſuch an air of ſignificance. There may be more in this buſineſs than ſhe has told me ; for why ſhould ſo ſilly a ſpeech give ſuch offence to the General?

Bleſs me, madam! I hope you did not ſay a word, of what I hinted, to Lady Lovemore : the ſhortneſs of her viſit alarmed me.

That would have been indiſcreet, indeed, Mrs. Goodwill ; as I am convinced, however you may be mi⯑ſtaken in her Ladyſhip, you meant no ill to me. But pray was that idle ſaying all that paſſed, to provoke the General ſo highly?

Nothing more that I heard ; except that the gentleman added, his Lordſhip choſe to procure preferment for his friends abroad, that he might occaſionally pay a charitable viſit to their wives at home!

Then it is plain the reflection could not reſpect me. Captain Boothby is to have a regiment in Eng⯑land ; and he hath ſolemnly promiſed I ſhall go with him, if he be ordered abroad.

Yes, madam, but the promiſes of a huſband ſometimes bind as little as thoſe of a lover.

Nay, Mrs. Goodwill, I muſt hear nothing againſt my huſband.

I beg pardon, madam—I have done.

I will exact, however, another promiſe from Mr. Boothby, that go where he will I ſhall accompany him.

SCENE II. An Antichamber in the Houſe of Governor Mammon.

Mac Totum, ha! And you are no Indian, you ſay?

No, Sir ; but going to India very young, I learn'd their language, and paſs for a native.

That is, you are a kind of a mock-turtle among them ; ha, Mr. Mac Totum! And ſo, you are your maſter's banyan, eh! His interpreter, his ſecretary, his book⯑keeper, his caſh-keeper, his ſecret-keeper, his ſcrub, his every thing, eh!

I ſee, Sir, to the diſcharge of all thoſe important truſts, either in perſon or by the appointment of his honour's other people ; for whoſe fidelity I am reſponſible ; ſuch as his dallals and darogas, vakeels and gomaſtahs, mutſeddees, chub⯑dars and ſoontaburdars, down to his honour's, pykes, peons, and cooleys.

A conſequential kind of domeſtic truly! His dallals and darogas, mutſeddees, chubdars, pykes, peons and cooleys. Who, the devil, are all theſe?

They are his honour's agents, brokers, clerks, ſtewards, wand-bearers, torch-bearers, pedlars, porters and running footmen.

What a tribe of locuſts! Why 'tis a retinue for a S [...]bah.

And yet his honour, on the country eſtabliſh⯑ment, is at preſent only the Fowzdàr of a Chúcklah.

The Fowzdàr of a Chúcklah! A kind of Mid⯑dleſex juſtice, if I remember right.

On his return to India, indeed, he will probably be made an Omrah.

An Omrah! What a Lord! Eh! —As to that, he might be made a Lord of here. But why this exhibition of eaſtern pompoſity in London?

Sir, his honour makes this diſplay of his Indian ſplendor, in order to induce the young lady, he is going to marry, to return more willingly with him to Bengal.

Nay, but ſo much ceremony with friends is troubleſome. I could find eaſier acceſs at St. James's—Is the Monarch of the Brititſh Empire more affable than the Fowzdar of a Chucklah?

His honour, Sir, notwithſtanding forms, is friendly and familiar. The Durbar, his levee, is by this time aſſembled, and you ſhall be uſhered into the Huzzoor, the pre⯑ſence, immediately.

The Durbar! Huzzoor! Preſence! Egad, this Fowzdar of a Chucklah takes on him the ſtate of a great Mogul!

SCENE III.

Munſhy Dives.

Your honour!

Have you looked at that parcel of diamonds? what will you give?

Thirty thouſand pounds, your honour! They are large, but ſome of them are flawed and cloudy.

They coſt me, three lacks of rupees : for two thouſand more they are yours.

Your honour ſhall have the monies.

The emeralds, pearls and rubies. What ſay you to them?

Ten thouſand, your honour. I would not give more to my own brother.

Transfer, receive and veſt the caſh in the funds.

India ſtock, your honour?

What, man, are you mad? —South Sea— And when a ſnug bargain of terra firma offers, turn it into dirt—Land is a more valuable commodity than paper. — Lazarus!

Your honour!

Thoſe cheſts of tea and raw ſilk—Are they ſafely run and diſpoſed of?

At your honour's own price.

And the piece-goods, the coſſaes, cuſhtaes, cal⯑lipaties, carridaries, dooſooties, jamdannies, mulmuls and mooſooroos!

All, your honour. —

Place the money in the Bank. Their paper is as good as caſh. —Pandar!

Your honour!

In making proviſion for my Zenana, let me have no more brunettas. I would not give an anna for your dark-eyed moppetts. But, pay the mother of the fair wench I brought from Plymouth, a thouſand rupees, and ſettle upon the daughter a jaghire, at the rate of three hundred per month, during pleaſure. I ſhall not need your ſervice again perhaps this month. —I am going to be married.

Sir Solomon Bauble, your honour! [Governor Mammon riſes from the ſofa and comes forward to embrace Sir Solomon, mean while the levee and ſer⯑vants go off.]

Sir Solomon Bauble, I am proud to embrace you.

And I to return the compliment, Governor— Your Egyptian Princeſs—

Is a diamond of the firſt ; water, you would ſay ; I knew her highneſs would charm you.

She has indeed, Governor ; and has captivated the hearts too of half a ſcore connoiſſeurs of my acquaintance already. I wiſh ſome of the rakiſh young dogs, among our virtuoſi, don't raviſh her from me. They plundered my ca⯑binet of an ineſtimable Otho no longer ago than this very morning.

I will ſupply its place, by the next ſhips, with an illegible coin of the Emperor Ting, Ving, Ching ; who reigned in China, ten thouſand years, before the creation.

You are very good, Governor. And if you could but procure me the genealogy of the Princeſs—a mummy without a genealogy is like a Welch woman without a pedigree.

Faith, Sir Solomon, I can ſay little to that. I had her from a Baſhaw of three tails, at Mocho, in the Straits of Babel-mandel. If you want to know more of her, we muſt ſend to Mocho for information.

Egad, I ſhall be infinitely obliged to you, Governor. From a Baſhaw of three tails, at Mocho, in the Straits of Babel-mandel! Why, ſhe may be one of the daughters of King Pharoah, that was drowned in the Red Sea ; who knows?

I can ſay nothing to the contrary, Sir Solomon— But to buſineſs—How does my contracted ſpouſe, your niece Emilia ; I intend to-morrow morning to pay my reſpects to her.

You will do her honour.

Mean time, Sir Solomon, you will order the lawyers to adjuſt the neceſſary preliminaries to our wedding. I have ſpoken to Mr. Serjeant Nonplus, who will meet your Counſel about the marriage ſettlements. You will excuſe me at preſent ; I muſt attend the General Court. —What ho! without—my palanqueen there! [calls to his ſervants without ; whence is repeatedly heard "His honour's chair."] [Speaking to Sir Salomon.] Nay, no ceremony, good Sir Solomon—We'll go together.

SCENE IV. Lord Lovemore's.

Good-morrow, General.

Good day, my Lord, I am heartily glad to ſee you—What, it is all over, I ſuppoſe—How did the fellow behave?

Over! what ſhould be over, General?

Why, did not you call him out?

Him! whom?

The raſcal that affronted you laſt night at the whiſt table.

I took no affront, General ; nor recollect any that was given me.

No affront! Did not your partner tread on your toe the moment you were cut in!

As we changed ſeats—An accident! He begged my pardon.

An accident! Ha! did he not revoke in play?

Miſplay'd a ſpade, I think—An overſight!

An overſight! Did he not look aſkew at you all the evening?

The gentleman, General, had the misfor⯑tune to have a caſt in his eye.

A caſt! The misfortune! Eh! I would have caſt him into the pit of perdition, had he ſo ſquinted at me— A caſt! lookye, my Lord, if you think ſuch things to be put up with, it is no buſineſs of mine. My dignity will not ſuffer by it ; tho' my affinity to your Lordſhip, makes me ſo⯑licitous for the preſervation of your honour.

I am obliged to you, General ; but I am not ſo captious as to regard ſuch trifles in a ſerious light.

Mighty well, my Lord! mighty well! Cap⯑tious! Ha! Yes my Lord, I am captious and exceptious too, and you may think me capricious too, if your Lordſhip pleaſes; no matter, but while I have the honour to be your Lordſhip's brother-in-law, and have the character of a ſoldier to main⯑tain, I will be tenacious too ; tenacious of the dignity of human nature, my Lord. And I ſay again, if any raſcal breathing had ſquinted at me as that fellow did laſt night at your Lordſhip, I would have tumbled him down the precipice of perdition! —And ſo Lord Lovemore, I bid your Lordſhip good day

I would my Lord, by all that is great in man

You may ſmile, my Lord ; but I would have crumbled his ſoul to powder—to atoms, my Lord—to atoms—to atoms

Ha! ha! ha! If this madman's diſpoſition were not ſo miſchievous, it would be really entertaining. It is to be hoped, however, his phrenzy is of that kind it will ſoon work its own cure.

Captain Boothby, my Lord.

Did you meet the General, Boothby?

I came with him, my Lord, but, ſuppoſing he had buſineſs with your Lordſhip, I waited below till he retired.

What can have poſſeſſed him, to day?

What always poſſeſſes him, my Lord. A ſpirit of contradiction.

He would bring me into a quarrel here I know nothing of.

He has been taking up a buſineſs too, he ſays, of mine. But I neither know what it is, nor can I get it out of him.

Then let him keep it to himſelf. The only good quality he has, is that of ſometimes keeping ſecret his own miſchief—How does Mrs. Boothby to day? You ſpend the evening with us.

Lady Lovemore will have company.

A private party only ; we ſhall not play high.

Your Lordſhip is ſo obliging then as to pay attention to my finances.

Faith I beg your pardon, Boothby, for the expreſſion ; ſuch attention is unneceſſary. I have as good as ſettled your preferment to-day. There will be ſoon a ge⯑neral promotion, and you are to have the regiment at Gib⯑raltar.

You gave me hopes, my Lord, of being provided for in England.

I did ſo ; but ſo many difficulties ſtood in the way, that, to prevent delays, I acquieſced, You will be recalled home in a year or two at moſt, ſo that it is much the ſame thing as if you were not to go.

I know not that, my Lord. In the predicament I ſtand with my father-in-law, my abſence, in the mean time, may prove prejudicial to my intereſt.

I can't ſee that—Mrs. Boothby will remain in England ; and perhaps effect a reconciliation the ſooner without you. I ſhall be ready to do her any ſervices in my [28] power ; and, if ſhe even chuſes a domeſtic protection, Lady Lovemore will, I am ſure, be happy in ſo agreeable a com⯑panion.

Your Lordſhip's friendſhip is ſo generouſly im⯑poſing, that I ſhall ſubmit my conduct entirely to you, if I can prevail on Mrs. Boothby to acquit me of the promiſe I have made, to take her with me ſhould I be ordered abroad.

Oh! ſhe is too reaſonable a woman to inſiſt on it. A wife, Boothby, is a very troubleſome meſs-mate, on ſhip-board and in a garriſon. But you will have time enough to reconcile her to ſo ſhort an abſence before you embark.

I ſhall, my Lord, but I cannot acquaint her too ſoon with the ſucceſs of your Lordſhip's negotiation. I therefore humbly take my leave. Your Lordſhip's obedient.

Your ſervant, Captain. —The wife of this Boothby muſt at any rate be mine. She is a charming woman. But they ſay ſhe is virtuous and loves her huſband. What a villain then am I to go about to ſeduce her? Yet why that queſtion! I may not ſucceed ; and mere intentional crimes are venial. I'll riſk the trial. By providing for the huſband, I ſecure an intereſt in the gratitude of the wife. Her affection for him ſhall plead for the love of her gallant. But, till it works effect, I muſt be diſtant and reſerved—It were as im⯑politic to alarm the modeſty of a woman, till ſome impreſſion be made on her heart, as for a General to give the ſignal to ſtorm till he had effected a breach—

SCENE I. An Apartment at Sir Solomon Bauble's.

Almoſt a week in London, Emilia, and not let me hear from you! Not a line, or a meſſage, to adviſe me of your arrival!

If you knew, Sir, the reaſon of my coming to town, you would excuſe me. I have given you, perhaps, too much encouragement already.

Too much encouragement, Emilia!

A young woman in my ſituation, Sir, ſhould have been more reſerved. You know the buſineſs, I ſuppoſe, on which Sir Solomon has ſent for you?

Not particularly. Some law buſineſs, I find. I wiſh, my dear Emilia, you would give me leave to talk to him on a more intereſting ſubject.

What ſubject, Sir?

Can you be at a loſs to gueſs, after the many kind aſſurances, you have flattered me with, of a partiality for me?

I hardly know what I have flattered you with, Mr. Witmore. But, whatever was my partiality for you, you ſhould have known that, a girl at my age had it not in her power to give herſelf away without the conſent of her relations.

Give me but your conſent to make openly my ad⯑dreſſes, and I will do it immediately. Sir Solomon, I know, regards nothing ſo much as money. But, though at preſent my fortune is not very conſiderable, yet my connections and [30] expectations are ſuch, that I make no doubt of obtaining his conſent.

For heaven's ſake, huſh, I hear him hobbling down ſtairs. I have ſaid enough to pave the way. —You will ſoon know more than I have confidence to tell you. —

So, Mr. Witmore, you have been chatting with my niece Emmeline. She's a fine girl grown ; is not ſhe? ſhot up like an arrow! And I dare ſay you think her fit for a huſband.

If ſhe thinks ſo herſelf, Sir Solomon. Miſs Em⯑meline is indeed grown a fine woman, and I doubt not would make an excellent wife.

You think ſo, eh! Witmore! Why to come to the point, then, it was on that ſubject I ſent to talk with you.

You do me an honour, Sir Solomon, ſo young a lawyer is ſeldom thought entitled to.

What will this lead to? Surely ſhe has not broke the ice herſelf?

Why truly I have ſo good an opinion of you, Mr. Witmore, that I fixed my eye upon you as the moſt pro⯑per perſon I could think of. —I have been greatly obliged both to your talents and integrity.

'Tis certainly ſo—ſhe ſaid ſhe had paved the way for me—

Your partiality, Sir Solo⯑mon, over-rates my deſert.

Not at all—not at all. —I have heard the high⯑eſt commendations of you from the gentlemen of your own profeſſion ; which is a good ſign ; a very good ſign, let me tell you, Mr. Witmore. You are, to be ſure, not yet at the head of it, but you are a young man, and in time will riſe perhaps to be Lord Chancellor—who knows?

I am highly indebted to your good opinion of me, Sir Solomon.

Not a whit—not a whit—I declare again I ſhould not be aſhamed, were I the firſt baronet in the kingdom (which I am not by a great many.) I—

You tranſport me, Sir.

Nay, I proteſt, had I fifty nieces—

Oh! Sir Solomon—

You ſhould draw up the marriage articles for every one of them, Mr. Witmore.

Sir!

Sir! hey dey! why what's the matter, Barriſter? Is not the job worth your acceptance? I thought you would have ſeen to the making your friend Emilia's jointure ſecure, though you had done it without a fee.

Jointure! fee! Sir Solomon! To be ſure I have a friendſhip for the young lady—but—hath ſhe made choice of a huſband?

She! poor young thing! How ſhould ſhe know how to make choice of a huſband? Oh! no. That trouble was taken off her hands ſome time ago. Her friends in India took care of that—Governor Mammon, who came over by the laſt ſhips, contracted two years ago to marry her, on his arrival in England, under the penalty of a lack of rupees; near twelve thouſand pounds ſterling. So that, you ſee, we have long had the huſband ſafe enough. We have now only to ſe⯑cure her dowry and pin-money.

And the young lady abides by this ſame contract, I ſuppoſe.

I'll warrant her. Do you know, Sir, Governor Mammon is a nabob?

Then every woman is a jilt.

Pardon me, Sir Solomon, I am taken ſuddenly with a kind of vertigo ; the effect of ſetting up over a difficult caſe laſt night.

Ah! the law! the law is a vertiginous kind of ſtudy. But come, ſit you down, ſit you down. Lady Bauble is not ſtirring yet, but Emmy ſhall give you a cordial. —I ſhall be back by the time you are recovered and have compoſed yourſelf—

mean time I'll go take one peep at her highneſs this morning. Here, who waits there? Where is Emmy? Emmy ſhall bring you a cordial, Mr. Witmore.

Why, what a fool have I been to be made thus the dupe of a child! a chit! a girl! —

Bleſs me, Mr. Witmore, what's the matter?

Matter! Miſs! I am too much aſhamed to tell you ; and yet I know not whether I ought to bluſh moſt for myſelf or you.

Cruel Mr. Witmore! Then you know my ſituation and have no pity for me. Would to Heaven I had never ſeen you!

How can you juſtify yourſelf, madam?

I don't pretend to it, Sir. I confeſs I have been to blame ; but I hardly knew the force, or reflected on the conſequences of the contract I had ſigned, till you had taken advantage of my youth and inexperience, to rob me of a heart which I ought to have preſerved to give, where, they ſay, I muſt give my hand. If you love me as you have pre⯑tended, therefore, you will deviſe ſome method of delivering me from the bondage, to which the will of arbitrary and mercenary parents (for ſo I muſt call them) have deſtined me.

And does my Emmeline, then, wiſh to be freed from her contract with Governor Mammon?

I deteſt, abhor the propoſed union. If therefore you can contrive any means to protract or prevent it, you may depend on the concurrence of your Emmeline.

My Emmeline! Charming girl! thou ſhalt then ſtill be mine.

Heyday! This is friendly indeed! What! —

Sir Solomon!

Miſs Em⯑meline, I wiſh you joy of ſo happy an event, and will cer⯑tainly take care the covenants ſhall be as binding as law can make them.

O ho! is that all? Egad my mind began to miſgive me.

Ay, Emmy, Mr. Witmore takes part in our happineſs, and will therefore take care of our intereſt.

I then ſhall leave my concerns entirely with him, Sir ; but muſt beg he will take ſufficient time, to make every thing ſecure ; and proceed in nothing with precipitation.

You ſhall be obliged, madam ; even to the minuteſt punctilio of procraſtination.

Oh! no, Sir! No procraſtination! I have given my word of honour to the Governor, that the lawyers ſhall diſpatch their buſineſs without delay.

That's impoſſible, Sir. A lawyer's diſpatch always admits of delay.

What is that, Sir, you talk of delay? I beg nothing may be deferred, on any account whatever.

There ſhall be no more delay than is neceſſary, madam. But a little procraſtination is always uſual on occa⯑ſions of this kind ; it looks like a regard for decorum on the part of the lady.

We muſt diſpenſe a little with decorum, Sir. The Governor muſt be complimented with a ſhort day. After ſuch handſome preſents! A moſt ſuperb ſet of ornamental china!

True wife ; and the mummy of an Egyptian Princeſs! —No, no procraſtination.

I think not : where's my niece? Wo'nt ma⯑trimony go down with her without procraſtination? Leave her to me, Sir Solomon—woman's wit in theſe caſes may do more than man's wiſdom—And do you, Mr. Witmore, conſult with Serjeant Nonplus, the Governor's counſel, and come both hither for more particular inſtructions immediately : do the bu⯑ſineſs as ſecurely as poſſible ; and no procraſtination I beg of you.

I will obey you, madam. I ſhall juſt ſtep into Weſtminſter-Hall, to ſpeak to Serjeant Nonplus; and we will call upon you preſently. Sir Solomon, your ſervant.

Your fervant, Sir—your ſervant—Ha! gone! Odſo, what a pity I let the barriſter go, without introducing him to the Princeſs.

SCENE II. Capt. Boothby's Lodgings at Mrs. Goodwill's.

I could, indeed, tell you ſuch ſtories of Lord Lovemore, madam.

I am ſufficiently ſhocked at what I have heard already. —Indeed I beg your pardon, Mrs. Goodwill. I yeſterday thought you too cenſorious : but, after his Lord⯑ſhip's unguarded behaviour at his own houſe laſt night, I can [35] believe the worſt of him ; and indeed have not the beſt opinion of his Lady. Would you believe it, Mrs. Goodwill, he had the confidence to make down-right love to me, —to rail at Mr. Boothby, and even offer me his protection, in the very preſence of his wife. I find too that Mr. Boothby is to be pro⯑moted to the command of a regiment abroad.

And have you told the Captain your ſuſpi⯑cions, madam?

I would not have him know them for the world. The conſequences would be fatal. But what ſhall I do? We are under an engagement to go to the maſquerade to night.

To the maſquerade, madam! Indeed it re⯑quires conſideration. Strange doings have been carried on at maſquerades.

Strange doings, Mrs. Goodwill! You ter⯑rify me! —It is an entertainment I have the greateſt curioſity to be preſent at. But if there be any danger attending it, I proteſt, I will ſtay at home.

That reſolution, madam, may perhaps too much alarm Captain Boothby.

That's true, and yet—But here they both come—I am ſo chagrined and perplexed, I know not what to do—Come, come and ſit with me awhile. —You muſt adviſe me—

A fit of the ſpleen, my Lord! Mere vapours! It went off immediately on her coming into the air.

I am glad to hear that—

A good omen! ſhe has not yet told her huſband I ſind—

Why you were both the favourites of fortune. I thought no lady had the ſpleen while ſhe was winning at cards.

Mrs. Boothby has delicate nerves, my Lord ; and is little uſed to late hours and the card table. Your Lordſhip may have your revenge, however, at any time on me.

I intend to have it on both, I aſſure you.

With all my heart, my Lord, when and where you pleaſe.

To morrow night then—to night you know we go to the maſquerade.

Be it ſo—

Ha! ha! ha! Faith Boothby, thou art the happieſt fellow in the world—You have an angel of a woman for your wife. And ſo ſhe did not tell you the reaſon of her breaking away ſo ſuddenly laſt night. I muſt let you into the ſecret, leſt through miſtake ſhe think hardly of me.

Why ſo, my Lord?

You muſt know, that to get rid of the ef⯑fuſions of her gratitude, which ſhe took an opportunity to pour out on me, for the trouble I have taken to ſolicit your prefer⯑ment, I, in raillery made love to her, by telling her how eaſily ſhe might get rid of the obligation.

And ſhe took you to be in earneſt. Ha! ha! ha!

Even ſo ; but it was in the preſence of Lady Lovemore, ſo that 'twas impoſſible I could mean any thing, you know.

No, my Lord, I am very ſure you did not— You will excuſe Mrs. Boothby.

Nay, you muſt make my excuſe to her. She left us ſo abruptly, that ſhe gave me no time to come to an ex⯑planation.

Will you apologize for yourſelf, my Lord? Mrs. Boothby is within.

No, no, it will come better from you. I muſt away to the Secretary at war. To tell you the truth, I heard yeſterday of a vacancy at home, that may be worth your acceptance ; and therefore deſired an interview with him to day. If I ſucceed in your behalf, you ſhall know what it is. If it be already diſpoſed of (for there are innumerable ſolici⯑tants) we will think of it as a gem long loſt, and watch the next opportunity of meeting with its fellow.

I am infinitely indebted to your Lordſhip, for this obliging attention to my intereſt.

I only wiſh I may be able to ſerve you as I intend—But I muſt go—Mean time, do you hear, Boothby, make my peace with your wife before I ſee her again.

I will, my Lord—How noble and generous is it in his Lordſhip to give himſelf all this trouble of applica⯑tion for me! —And yet—when I reflect on Mrs. Boothby's be⯑haviour laſt night, and this whimſical tale of a love ſtory. —I don't half like it. His Lordſhip is a man of intrigue, and the liberties which men of rank think themſelves authorized to take, in this age of gallantry, with their inferiors, are alarming. I muſt ſpeak to Mrs. Boothby. But ſhe'll not be open enough to tell me, if there ſhould be any thing in it, left it ſhould breed a quarrel. —Phoo! hang it, it cannot be nei⯑ther —in the preſence of his own wife! And ſhe one of the beſt and moſt amiable women in the univerſe! I am aſham⯑ed of the ſuſpicion. —It is to the laſt degree injurious to ſo generous, ſo diſintereſted a friend. What a mean contracted heart is this of mine! I bluſh to think I am poſſeſſed of ſuch a narrow ſoul!

General Gantlet, Sir.

Good morrow, General.

Good morrow, Boothby—You come off winner laſt night.

Unaccountably ſo. A novice among adepts and yet ſo fortunate.

Adepts! Sharpers!

What mean you, General!

The ſtranger in blue and gold gave you the game every time.

That was very obliging in a ſtranger, General. But I know no reaſon for it.

Then I would make him give one. —Colonel Baſto aſſures me he has ſeen him at Bath, and knows him to be a common gambler. Lord Lovemore ſhould be called to ac⯑count for introducing ſuch a ſcoundrel into company at his own houſe. —You know, in regard to my ſiſter, it would look ill in me, or elſe—But I'll carry him a civil meſſage for you.

To Lord Lovemore! My beſt friend! impoſſi⯑ble to think of it, General. He muſt have been im⯑poſed on, in the character of the gentleman. Or, if not, gamblers now get into the company of the firſt people in the kingdom.

Not in private parties, at their own houſes, Sir. — However, you may do as you pleaſe—You may put up with it—But if any other perſon had introduced a fellow that bad taken the liberty to put his money into my pocket—

Nay but conſider, General, Lord Lovemore is my friend, my patron, and no very diſtant relation ; a man of high rank, and your brother-in-law—

Were he the firſt Duke in the land, brother-in-law to any body but myſelf, Sir, here, here

would I pillory his noſe—He ſhould breathe through theſe fin⯑gers, Sir, and breathe his laſt.

I muſt give into the humour of this Goth ; or he may work himſelf to attack my Lord himſelf.

Well then, General, to oblige you—

Oblige me! Sir▪ Oblige yourſelf! ſupport your own dignity, Mr. Boothby.

I Will, General, and call his Lordſhip to ac⯑count on the ſubject of laſt night, depend on it.

Do my boy, that's a brave lad. Ever while you live, Boothby, ſupport your own dignity.

Bleſs me, Mr. Boothby, what is it you have promiſed that ſavage General? What is it he has been adviſing you? Challenge Lord Lovemore! indeed, my dear, there, was nothing in the fooliſh affair of laſt night that ſhould excite ſuch reſentment. It was a capricious miſtake of my own. He could not mean any thing—Lady Lovemore herſelf was by and heard every word that was ſaid.

I know it, my dear. But why are you ſo much alarmed? The General is not in his dignity-ſtilts this morning upon your account.

Not on my account.

He took umbrage, it ſeems, at loſing his mo⯑ney laſt night, and would ſet every body quarrelling that was concerned in winning it.

How have my curioſity and impa⯑tience betrayed me!

Nay, child, never mind it. You have only betrayed a little ſecret that I knew before. But why will you keep ſuch fooliſh ſecrets from me? A woman ſhould have no confidant in theſe matters but her huſband. Lord Lovemore is much mord open and ingenuous. He has confided in me al⯑ready, and has been juſt now telling the whole ſtory.

Specious deceiver! but I dare not expoſe him.

Indeed, my dear, if your error did not proceed from an amiable cauſe, in which I am ſo deeply intereſted, I ſhould think you greatly to blame. His Lordſhip is ſo noble, ſo generous a friend, that I would not diſoblige him for the world. Even common gratitude ſhould induce us to put the moſt favourable conſtruction on his behaviour. Would you believe that he is now gone to the Secretary at War, of his own accord, to ſolicit a poſt for me, which he hears is become vacant at home? He ſeems to take a concern in my intereſt as if it were his own.

Artful villain! I can no longer bear it.

Tears of gratitude! ſuſceptible creature! how will ſhe reproach herſelf now, for having harboured an unjuſt ſuſpicion of our beſt benefactor!

Lady Lovemore! —What nobody waiting there?

Nay, no ceremony, Sir. I came in with⯑out it, becauſe I would not diſturb Mrs. Boothby. I hope her laſt night's indiſpoſition is attended with no ill conſequences.

Your ladyſhip's ſolicitude is obliging. None at all, it appears to have been a mere capricio, as inſignificant as the innocent cauſe of it.

As the cauſe of it, Mr. Boothby!

Yes, madam, my Lord has been here this morning, and has related to me the whole circumſtance.

He! he! he! and was there ever any thing ſo ridiculous? You may think yourſelf a happy man, Mr. Boothby, in ſo good a wife ; but, I proteſt, if every married woman were as exceptious as Mrs. Boothby, there would be no keeping up converſation between people of faſhion of different ſexes, an hour together.

Your ladyſhip is perfectly in the right. Mrs. Boothby's behaviour was certainly too exceptious.

Oh! prepoſterous! we muſt rally her out of this ruſtic prudery, or ſhe will be fit to keep company with nobody but yourſelf, Mr. Boothby. I muſt go and give her a lecture ; indeed I muſt teach her to think and act a little more like folks of this world.

How eaſy, ſpirited, and engaging! Well, af⯑ter all, though virtue be a jewel, it is like a diamond, which, of the firſt water, muſt yet be poliſhed before it diſplays its luſtre. How admirable is the behaviour of this Lady Love⯑more! Mrs. Boothby has not leſs natural goodneſs of heart, or of native beauty ; but to how much more advantage would they appear if ſhe had her ladyſhip's artificial habit of diſplay⯑ing them. She will profit, I dare ſay, by ſo ſtriking an ex⯑ample. Indeed my wife is as fortunate in having acquired the friendſhip of Lady Lovemore, as I am in that of his Lord⯑ſhip!

SCENE III. Sir Solomon Bauble's.

An independent fortune when of age, and great expectations! ſay you, maſter Witmore? a lucky hit for a young fellow that has been no longer at the bar!

With your aſſiſtance, Mr, Serjeant, I hope it will prove ſo.

Why, lookye, brother Witmore, Gover⯑nor Mammon may be a good client ; ſo that, ſhould it af⯑terwards come out that I aſſiſted you in this buſineſs—

I will then ſacrifice the firſt good client, I have, to you, Mr. Serjeant.

I expect no leſs than that ſtroke of friendſhip— one good turn, you know—

Deſerves another, Mr. Serjeant.

Nay, if by marrying, the young Lady you make your fortune and retire from the bar, you may give me all your intereſt too.

I'll do it, Mr. Serjeant.

Yes, but I will have no hand in any thing but delay. There is no diſrepute in the law's delay. I would not do any thing diſreputable for the world. It will hurt me in my practice, master Witmore.

Diſrepute and diſhoneſty, Mr. Serjeant, as you ſhrewdly hint, are two things. Our practice does not depend on our integrity, but on our reputation for it.

A juſt diſtinction! True, character, character is all. You may do what you will if you be but artful or lucky enough to preſerve your character.

And if that be neglected, or unluckily loſt, be as honeſt as one will, it will ſignify nothing.

Egad, Mr. Witmore, for a young man, you ſeem to know a good deal of the world. It is almoſt a pity the bar ſhould loſe ſo promiſing a caſuiſt. You would make a figure at niſi prius and pleas of the crown.

You flatter me, Mr. Serjeant. But young adventu⯑rers at the bar, like ſoldiers of fortune in arms, ſhould loſe no fair opportunity of advancing themſelves out of the line of their profeſſion.

Egad that's true—a fortune's a fortune : no matter how we come by it, as our old friend Horace ſays, Rem facias. Rem—quocunque modo Rem.

Ay, Mr. Serjeant, that Rem is the thing—but I ſee the young lady coming this way. —If you will juſt walk into that room, I'll be with you preſently.

Well, Mr. Witmore, I have conſidered of your ſcheme. But I am afraid I ſhall not be able to ſet governor Mammon ſo much againſt me as to make him refuſe to fulfill the contract.

Well, at the worſt, he cannot compell you to ful⯑fil it. It is an adjudged caſe, that the marriage-contract of a minor is not binding. But never fear! play but your part with diſcretion, my dear Emily, and you cannot fail to deter him from the match. Repel his firſt attacks with vivacity and you ſhall find me, and Serjeant Nonplus, who is within, ready to compleat his repulſe.

—I would fain have the refuſal come from him— And yet—

Nay, my dear Emmeline, ſtart no more objections —I thought I had fully ſatisfied your ſcruples, when you ſatis⯑fied mine. Love knows no bonds, no ſhackles but what it impoſes on itſelf. It diſdains the formal reſtrictions impoſed on it by others, and ſubmits to no obligations but thoſe of the heart.

But is this law, Mr. Witmore.

The law of love, my dear Emmeline, which is the law of liberty.

And is there nothing inequitable in the caſe, eh!

Why to ſay truth, there is ſome little difference between law and equity in moſt caſes. But the court of love, my dear Emmeline, is a court of common law, and is go⯑verned [44] by ancient cuſtoms and uſages time immemorial ; of which none is of longer ſtanding than that of a woman's changing her mind. We ſhall certainly carry our point, there⯑fore, at law ; which will put me in poſſeſſion of your charms, and then let equity diſpoſeſs me of them if it can.

How lucky it is that I have fallen into the hands of ſo great a lawyer!

SCENE I. Sir Solomon Bauble's.

With a due reciprocation of civilities, Sir, I muſt needs ſay that your actions beſpeak it. There is, indeed, a generoſity in your behaviour, that hath charmed us all, ex⯑cept my niece Emmeline. I cannot think what's come to the girl ; but ſhe's grown quite hypocondriac, as I tell her.

Thoughtful, perhaps, on her approaching change of condition, Madam!

Or perhaps, Governor, ſhe expected a pre⯑ſent, as well as Sir Solomon and myſelf. We women are all a little mercenary, you know. And beſides ſhe might think it a mark of diſreſpect that ſhe had none. One cannot tell— theſe young things, who know but a little of the world, have ſtrange conceptions.

I ſhould be ſorry, Madam, that Miſs Emme⯑line's inexperience ſhould cauſe her to cenſure me for want of reſpect ; but I reſerved ſuch teſtimony of my regard for her, till I ſhould have the honour of preſenting it myſelf. This caſket of diamonds—

And have you brought her a caſket of dia⯑monds then? Oh ſhe'll brighten up at the diamonds, I'll war⯑rant her. I'll ſend her to you immediately. —But here ſhe is.

Come, niece Emmeline, here is Governor Mammon, that is to be your huſband, you know,

As you muſt have a great deal to ſay to one another, I leave you together, Governor,

I long to have their confabula⯑tion over, that I may contemplate the beauty of the diamonds.

Miſs Emmeline, your ſlave—

a fine girl grown, faith,

You will permit me to preſent you with this token of my reſpect, before I enter on the ſubject of my love,

By no means, Sir. Before I receive any preſent from you, Governor, it is proper I ſhould know what return I can make you.

There needs no return, Madam.

True, Governor, if I become your wife, in which caſe your preſent is a mere piece of gallantry : and you may almoſt as well take it out of one hand and put it into the other. You ſtile yourſelf my ſlave : but rather call me your's; for I am certain you think ſo.

Miſs Emmeline!

Nay, Sir, be not ſurprized. I am not now, Go⯑vernor, the poor, ſimple girl, that was prevailed on to enter into a contract with you in India ; of which I have but late⯑ly underſtood the impropriety.

Indeed, Madam, there ſeems to be a great al⯑teration, both in your perſon and ſentiments. But as I ad⯑mire the one, I preſume the other will make no alteration in the nature of our connexion.

A groundleſs hope, Governor. To be plain with you, I find that women educated in England, not only be⯑ſtow [47] their perſons in marriage ; but that they have minds alſo, which are intereſted in the event of that union ; ſouls, Governor ; of which you Aſiatic tyrants will hardly allow us women to boaſt the poſſeſſion.

Why really, Miſs Emmeline, you ſeem to be poſſeſſed of a ſoul indeed, if one may judge by this ſpeci⯑men of your ſpirit. But as the philoſophers hold the ſoul to be of no ſex, we Aſiatics, as you call us, wiſely think the beſt part of a woman is her perſon.

And you would be mean enough to accept the hand of a woman, who had diſpoſed of her heart to another

Why look ye, madam, if a woman takes upon her to diſpoſe of what is not her property, but has been made over to another, I don't ſee why the firſt owner may not, without the imputation of meanneſs, reclaim it. But is that really the caſe Miſs Emmeline.

Indeed, governor it is.

Then you have dealt diſingenuouſly by me madam,

How ſo, Sir? If all you require of a woman be the poſſeſſion of her perſon, what matters it on whom ſhe beſtows her affections!

I looked on both in you as equally my pro⯑perty.

Why there, Sir! —it is juſt as I ſaid—You look upon me as your property, your purchaſed ſlave ; and would doubtleſs treat me as ſuch, were we married. You would be for taking me back to India, to make up the number of your Zenana, your ſeraglio of female favorites. But that is not in your power, Sir, were I even married to you, without my own conſent. And be aſſured I ſhall never willingly leave a country in which the privileges of our ſex are ſo well reſpected and ſecured. An Engliſh wife Governor—

Is as great a tyrant—

As an Eaſtern huſband.

Indeed!

She may at leaſt ſet her huſband's tyranny at defiance and repay his neglect of her in kind. So beware, Governor, what you do ; and as you approve the hint precipitate our nuptials.

Hey day! what a termagant young devil it is grown! Yes, yes, ſhe returned to England, to finiſh her education with a vengeance! No, no madam, I'll not marry, to go back to India and leave you in England neither. If I do marry you I will certainly get divorced before I go or compell you to go with me. —The privileges of an Engliſh wife truly! Repay their neglect in kind! What a poor devil is an Engliſh huſband!

Governor, your ſervant.

Well met, Mr. Serjeant—Egad you are luckily encountered here, I muſt have a little of your ad⯑vice, or my young Tartar from Bengal will prove too much for me.

What's the matter, Sir?

This morning, you know, I conſulted you about the ſhorteſt method of fulfilling a certain matrimonial contract. And now, I believe, I muſt conſult you on the ſhorteſt way of diſſolving it.

So ſuddenly Sir?

What on the firſt interview, Governor?

Why, the yonng lady ſpeaks her mind ſo plainly, that I've no need of a ſecond.

She is not to your fancy then Governor?

Or rather I am not to hers. She has taken a fancy to ſomebody elſe it ſeems.

And did ſhe own it to you?

Yes faith ſhe was explicit enough in all con⯑ſcience. I cannot complain of her reſerve. You muſt find out ſome way, therefore, gentlemen to diſſolve this ſame contract.

Impoſſible, Governor, without fulfilling the condi⯑tion of the obligation.

What muſt I be married to ſuch a ſhrew againſt my will?

O, no, Sir, on the payment of a lack of Rupees you may be excuſed. Theſe are the terms of the contract, as I take it.

Yes, but, as I take it, that forfeiture is too conſiderable. I'll marry her tho' it be to have the pleaſure of divorcing her the next day.

True Governor if that pleaſure might be ſo ſoon had.

May it not? I underſtood divorces were now become as frequent in England, as in the Eaſt.

They are pretty frequent indeed, Governor, and when the parties are agreed, are eaſily brought about. But if either be refractory, they are ſomewhat dilatory and expenſive.

And pray, Gentlemen, in what time and expence upon an average now, may a man by the laws of England, get rid of a refractory wife.

By the law of reaſon and therefore by the laws of England, Sir, it ſhould be very ſoon.

But, by the practice of them it cannot be at all.

How Sir?

Even ſo Sir, a new law muſt be expreſsly made for that purpoſe.

By that means it may be brought about.

Well, no matter for the means, the time and expence.

Let me fee—The time and expence! — Crim. con. we muſt take for granted.

Ay, ay, in all appearance we ſhall want no no proof of that.

An action may be proſecuted in the Tem⯑poral Court a reaſonable time and a moderate expence ; brother Witmore.

Yes, yes; we common lawyers have ſome con⯑ſcience.

Verdict obtained at Weſtminſter, we go into the commons. A libel is inſtituted—recrimination enſues—

Recrimination! What's that? Mr. Serjeant.

The recrimination of the canoniſts, Sir, is the antecatagory of the civilians.

It is! Oh, ho! that makes every thing very plain.

You muſt know, Governor, our canoniſts main⯑tain that a woman may as lawfully go aſtray from her huſ⯑band as a man from his wife.

The devil!

Yes Sir, and our married women of courſe, play the devil on the authority.

Pope Boniface the 8th, Sir, as the prieſts had no wives of their own, indulgently promulgated this doctrine, for them to preach to the wives of others.

But what have we to do with Pope Boniface or his indulgencies?

More than you may imagine, Governor. The reformatio legum not taking place the papal cannons continue ſtill in force, and Si quando mulier maritum—but perhaps I had better ſpeak plain Engliſh—

By all means, Mr. Serjeant, if you can. — As you are upon a matter of importance, I ſhould be glad to underſtand you.

Then, Sir, to put the caſe familiarly, thus. If Jack A. being lawfully married to Jill B. perad⯑venture Jill ſhould prove a jade (as, now a days, it is ten to one but ſhe does) yet, nevertheleſs and notwithſtanding, if the ſaid Jill make it appear that the ſaid Jack is as bad as herſelf ; it is in ſuch caſe to be adjudged, that the parties Jack and Jill are well matched, and it were a ſin to ſeparate ſo worthy a couple.

Confound the pope and all his adherents!

With all my heart Governor ; except out brethren in the commons; with whom to proceed. —

Ay, ay proceed, proceed Mr. Serjeant.

Recrimination ended. —Alimony ſettled. — Term probatory over go to trial. —Caſt! no matter which ſide, the huſband pays coſts on both.

The devil! he does!

Ay, Governor, there's the devil again.

An appeal is next lodged in the Arches. — the ground gone over again. —Thence an appeal to the Delegates a definitive ſentence is obtained. This being in [52] your favour, on ſettling a handſome ſeparate maintenance on your wife you turn her off a menſa et thoro.

And ſo get fairly rid of her, ha!

Not ſo faſt, Governor ; only from bed and board.

Beſides, Sir, unleſs you fly the country, your Lady, if ſhe be induſtrious, may bring you a numerous family of well-begotten children ; to all of which you would be the only lawful father.

Zounds! Gentlemen can this be law?

Sound law, I aſſure you, Governor.

Ay, ay, found law! found law! —But, to go on with Our proceſs—

Oh! confound its prolixity.

With ſentence for ſeparation a menſa et thoro, Governor, we go next into parliament for a divorce a vinculo matrimonii, the laſt ſtage.

Where you may carry your point.

Hell and the devil! what a proceſs!

Let me ſee! Brother Witmore, ay, on a mo⯑derate computation, in about ten years and at the expence of twenty, ay twenty, or one and twenty, thouſand pounds, the Governor may fairly get rid of his wife—that is, as I ſaid be⯑fore crim. con. taken for granted.

So you ſee, Governor, you may marry her as ſoon as you pleaſe.

And ſo I will, though cuckoldom be my portion, if I cannot get rid of her, without ſuing for a divorce. You may proceed therefore, gentlemen, with the ſettlements : Yes, I'll marry her and ſhip her for India imme⯑diately, or perhaps ſhip her firſt, leſt ſhe ſhould give me the ſlip and run off with her lover.

Ha!

How's this brother Witmore? What cauſe have we been pleading here?

Ship her for India, ſaid he! Egad, we muſt demur immediately, Mr. Serjeant. It will be too late to bring a writ of error after execution. Let us go to chambers and conſult.

NON. Oh! a demurrer! a demurrer! by all means, Maſter Witmore, a demurrer.

SCENE II. Boothby's Lodgings.

Mrs. Boothby gone abroad, ſay you!

To Pritchards, to give orders for her habit, madam.

Oh! I ſhall then meet with her ten to one in my round. If not, tell her I ſhall call to take her with me in the evening. I muſt run away immediately.

Don't put yourſelf in a fluſter, ſiſter. I am ſorry for your Ladyſhip's ſituation! but theſe things will happen.

Happen, General! —What will happen!

Nay, madam, I thought by your flurry you had heard more than I—But if you have heard nothing, and will promiſe me not to be frightened, I will tell you.

Promiſe not to be frightened—You have frightened me to death already. But indeed you are always terrifying me with ſome diſaſter or other. What's the matter now?

Nay, it may come to nothing, therefore it is time enough to be alarmed—Mrs. Goodwill!

Sir.

What time did Mr. Boothby go out?

I cannot exactly ſay the hour, Sir. But it was ſoon after you left him this morning. Lord Lovemore called in again, and they went out together.

As I thought. That is two or three hours ago. Mr. Boothby, you find ſiſter, is not returned ; and I am juſt come from your houſe, where they know nothing of his Lord⯑ſhip ; ſo that it is plain one or both of them muſt have dropped.

Dropped! Lord Lovemore or Mr. Boothby! Heaven and earth! Was there any quarrel between them?

Quarrel, madam! Was it not unavoidable after the affair of laſt night.

So this raſh General has been fomenting miſchief and ſtirring up ſtrife again!

And what, brother, had you to do with the affair of laſt night?

I will not ſuffer the honour of my friends, madam, to be hurt by their puſillanimity. And while I have that of being your huſband's brother-in-law, he ſhall neither give nor take an affront, if I can help it, without reſenting or being called to account for it.

Your notions of honour, brother, are ridi⯑culous. Is it leſs diſhonourable for a man to cut his friend's throat, than to be civil to his wife?

I am an old batchelor, you know, and know no⯑thing about wives. But if Boothby has not cut your huſband's throat for the inſult offered him at your houſe laft night, he is a—

And ſo you have been ſetting them to ſighting, I find. Oh, I ſhall faint! I ſhall die! My poor Lord is cer⯑tainly [55] killed! He is murdered.

Help! help! here. —Pray, General, lay hold of the Lady's hand and keep it open.

Me! not I madam! I know nothing of palmiſtry.

Bleſs me, General : how could you go to frighten my Lady in this manner!

Poh! frightened! If his Lordſhip be killed, he dies like a man of honour, and ſhe may the ſooner get another huſband.

Talk not to me brother of another huſband! I ſhall never live to ſupport the loſs of this!

Ha! Boothby!

Oh, Mr. Boothby! where—where is my poor Lord? barbarous man! have you indeed then left him dead, or ſhall I ſee him again alive?

So! ſo! ſo! Honour and dignity has been making fine work of it here, I find!

Your poor Lord, madam! I left him rich, alive and well not five minutes ago, turning over the habits at Pritchard's.

Heaven be praiſed!

So ſay I, my Lady. Let me beg of your Ladyſhip to compoſe yourſelf. You ſee nothing has happened that ſhould thus diſtreſs you.

So, nothing came of it! Ha! —what! diſarm'd! —A ſcratch only, Eh! —Egad I wiſh I had ſaid nothing about it.

I believe, indeed, it had been better, General.

Inhuman brother! Why! why will you be thus perpetually frightening me? You had better draw your ſword and pierce my boſom at once than be thus ever terrifying me with falſe alarms.

Fire and furies! madam! draw upon a woman! I that have dared death and deſtruction at the head of a line of battle! What effeminacy have you ever ſeen in me, madam, to think I ſhould contaminate my ſword with the blood of a wo⯑man? It is well, madam, it is not your huſband that inſults me thus. If he had, I would have wrung off his neck, as I would that of a turkey-cock. Draw my ſword on a woman! —But 'tis a woman's inſult, and ſo I put up with the indignity.

Bleſs me, Mr. Boothby, this brother of mine is quite frantic. Is there no method of curing this ridi⯑culous folly.

I am afraid not, madam ; but I'll make a trial. I fancy I could frighten him as much as he has frightened your Ladyſhip.

Would you could, Captain Boothby ; it would give me great ſatisfaction and might have ſome good ef⯑fect on him ; for really his caprices are dreadful.

A letter, Sir—the bearer ſaid it required no anſwer, but muſt be given into your hands immediately.

Your Ladyſhip will excuſe me.

No apology Mr. Boothby—buſineſs muſt be minded—I muſt hurry away to aſſiſt Mrs. Boothby in the choice of her dreſs.

Your Ladyſhip's humble ſervant.

Now let me ſee. [reads]

The hand-writing is a woman's, and reſembles that of Lady Lovemore ; but it cannot be hers—ſhe is to accompany my wife, and therefore would hardly diſſuade me from letting her go. Beſides, ſhe ſeems not to have the leaſt tincture of jealouſy in her diſpoſition—Yet now I reflect ; come this notice from whom it will, it may not be proper to neglect it. Mrs. Boothby's conduct is myſterious. Her reſentment laſt night at Lord Love⯑more's was unaffected and natural. And, though the paſſed off the matter ſlightly to day, the manner in which ſhe did it was neither eaſy nor natural—There may be ſomething more in this buſineſs than I am aware of. I will take Mrs. Boothby to taſk roundly for her reſerve. I'll make her believe I know more than I do, that ſhe may tell me more than I know. — Here ſhe comes.

Come hither madam. I have ſomething to ſay to you—but firſt let me ſhut the door.

Something to ſay to me! and ſuch prepa⯑ration, it muſt be of importance ſure, Mr. Boothby.

It is madam. Tell me, Mrs. Boothby [taking her haſtily by the hand] and tell me truly, as you value my fu⯑ture quiet and your own happineſs, have you dealt fairly by me?

Bleſs me, Mr. Boothby, what do you mean? You terrify me to death by this earneſtneſs. Dealt fairly by you?

Ay, fairly, Mrs. Boothby.

Witneſs Heaven! that I have done it ever.

Nay, call not Heaven to witneſs a falſehood— You have deceived me Mrs. Boothby—You have treacherouſly concealed from me a ſecret, which I ought to have known, and which, had I not by other means diſcovered it, might have proved our ruin.

Of what falſehood? What deceit? What treachery have I been guilty?

You told me to day, that you thought Lord Lovemore meant nothing by the behaviour you reſented laſt night.

Unkind Mr. Boothby! did not you your⯑ſelf ſay every thing to perſuade me ſo? Did you not ſay that gratitude for the obligations his Lordſhip ſought to confer on us, required the moſt favourable conſtruction to be put on his actions!

Obligations, madam! had he laid obligations on me till he had raiſed pile to reach the ſkies, the favour he ſought to confer by your means, would have tumbled them all down, and buried them in oblivion. —It is in vain to conceal It any longer. This letter, this letter, madam, has given me damnable intimations of the favours intended us.

By all my hopes of happineſs, both here and hereafter, I declare I have concealed nothing from you, but out of motives of the moſt ſincere fidelity and affec⯑tionate tenderneſs. I knew you to be ſo jealous of your honour, that I dreaded the fatal conſequences of telling you all.

And are not you, madam, equally jealous of my honour, that out of ſuch miſtaken tenderneſs for my perſonal [59] ſafety, you would betray the moſt invaluable treaſure of my ſoul? I Would you from ſo weak a motive ſubject me to be pointed at as the credulous dupe, the eaſy fool, the wittol of a titled raſcal whom I careſs as a friend.

Indeed, indeed you wrong me, Mr. Boothby. Heaven forbid I ſhould be put to the trial ; but I think I could. ſacrifice every thing I hold moſt dear to the preſervation of your honour.

As far as it is dependent on your fidelity, you may think it ſafe. The worſt even a bad woman can do is to make herſelf ridiculous, it is on herſelf only that ſhe can entail infamy. But men of honour, madam, have a degree of it to maintain, ſuperior to that which is in a woman's keeping.

I underſtand you not.

I will myſelf, madam, be the guardian both of my own honour and of yours. I have before told you a woman's beſt confidant is her huſband.

Will you then promiſe to command your temper, and not be urged by that of others to violence.

I will.

Then will I poſitively confide in you ; and ſhould his Lordſhip make any farther advances, acquaint you with it. And now, my dear, let me know the contents of that letter.

Read it

Well, madam, what think you of it?

I think it is the contrivance of a very artful and a very jealous woman.

My Lady Lovemore!

It is her hand—though purpoſely diſ⯑guiſed —I am ſure of it. I was before this almoſt tempted to [60] think her baſe enough to countenance the gallantries of her huſband.

Impoſſible! with her you are ſafe, whatever be the deſigns of his Lordſhip.

Then you would have me ſtill go to the maſquerade.

By all means; we cannot with any kind of de⯑cency break the appointment without breaking at once with Lord Lovemore ; which neither good manners nor prudence will yet juſtify.

Mrs. BOOTH. I will then go in to dreſs. Pritchard has promiſed to ſend me the habit, you ſo much admired to day.

How looſe are the principles of men of intrigue! And how often do we attribute, to motives of humanity and generoſity, a conduct influenced by the deſire of gratifying perſonal vanity or mere animal appetite. —Lord Lovemore is to ſunk in my eſteem, that I can place no confidence in his honour. I ſhall ſo far take the letter-writer's advice, therefore, as to watch his motions to night very narrowly.

Oh! Mrs. Goodwill! if General Gantlet ſhould return I have a little plot upon him, which you muſt aſſiſt me in. Lady Lovemore wiſhes to be revenged on him for the fright he has juſt put her in. Now the General was duelling yeſterday and wounded his antagoniſt : the wounds I underſtand are not dan⯑gerous, but it will be eaſy for us to perſuade him that they are mortal.

An excellent device, if it ſhould but terrify him to run away! His honour and dignity would be finely mortified before he diſcovered the trick that was put on him.

Egad, here he comes—do you be within hear⯑ing, Mrs. Goodwill, and ſecond my attempt as you ſee neceſ⯑ſary.

You may depend on me, Sir.

I forgot, Boothby, to aſk you if you intend playing the fool at the Hay-market, to night. —I think of going.

Egad, General, I believe you had better think of a prudent expedition to the continent. You acted the part of a man, it ſeems, ſo ſeriouſly with your antagoniſt yeſterday, that you ſhould be careful how you play the fool to night. I underſtand he lies at the point of death.

Zounds! The ſurgeon told me he was in no danger.

Yes, but it ſeems they have called in another of more dangerous practice, and he declares otherwiſe. So that if the man dies, General, the lawyers, who know nothing about the point of honour, you know—

Confound the ſurgeons and the lawyers too—Die! let him die and be ſepulchred on a dunghill.

Nay, but confider, General, I would have you make off by all means, and get out of the kingdom as faſt as you can.

Make off! What like a houſe-breaker or a high⯑wayman! Make off!

Nay, General, don't be angry. —But if you ſtay, and matters ſtand as I hear them related, you will run the utmoſt danger.

But is it not derogatory to a man's dignity to fly from danger?

If it threatened only from the point of a bayonet or the mouth of a culverin, I grant you, General. But when it appears in the form of a halter and the gallows.

Egad, you ſay true, Boothby, there is no dignity in the gallows. I will decamp.

Bleſs me, gentlemen, I am almoſt fright⯑ened out of my wits. —Here has been two of Sir John Field⯑ing's people enquiring after General Gantlet : But as I heard of the ugly affair that happened yeſterday, I ſaid his honour was not here—The ſervant ſays they are ſtill lurking about the ſtreet. Therefore pray take care how you go out, Gene⯑ral. —What a thing it would be if your honour's dignity ſhould come to be hanged.

Hell and the devil! what ſhall I do—Not that I value my life, Capt. Boothby, of a button. I have ſhewn that at the head of a line of battle : but to be throttled with a halter! the indignity of it, Boothby! I ſhall die with ſhame under the indignity of it.

Let me ſee—What can be done in this emer⯑gency? You might eſcape under diſguiſe ; and that the more readily as it is maſquerade night. —But a domino is not ſuffi⯑cient, and I have no other at hand.

What think you of women's apparel, Sir? I can furniſh his honour with a ſack and petticoat.

A petticoat!

Yes, Sir, I'll run and fetch it immediately.

A petticoat! I will be taken, hanged, drawn and quartered, e're I put on a petticoat. A ſoldier, a commander, wear a petticoat!

Pſhaw! General, there is nothing in a petti⯑coat, which the braveſt man upon earth need he offended at. Achilles, you know, who out-hectored Hector, was glad to conceal himſelf under one of his mother's maids ſhort petti⯑coats, [63] Nay, Hercules himſelf changed his club for a diſtaff, and threw off his lion's ſkin, to put on fair Omphale's petti⯑coat.

By the Lord, you ſay true : egad, I had forgot it. A man, as you ſay, may be as valiant as Hercules, and yet be glad ſometimes to creep under a petticoat. Where, where is it?

Here, here, Sir, with a lady's tête too, to complete the diſguiſe.

Ay, this is the very thing, Mrs. Goodwill.

Lookye, Boothby, it is not becauſe I fear to die. —I have ſhewn that, as I ſaid before, in the field of battle. —Nor that I think I have done wrong in ridding the world of a raſcal—I could die with a ſafe conſcience! —But the manner of it, Boothby! —The manner of it! I would avoid the indignity of being carted with ſtreet-robbers and footpads, Might I be indulged in the ſatisfaction of being blown from the mouth of a cannon, or plead privilege to have the honour of being decapitated like a gentleman, may I be crucified if I would budge a foot. — But to be dragged like a calf, with a rope about its neck to the ſlaughter ; to hear wide-mouthed hawkers cry my laſt dying⯑ſpeech and confeſſion! —Come, come, Mrs. Goodwill, make haſte with your petticoat. —Hercules himſelf wore a petticoat.

There, Sir, 'twill do very well—Now for your tête.

An admirable diſguiſe—and well fitted.

And very becoming too, I proteſt—Oh! and here, your honour, is your Ladyſhip's fan.

Ay, ay, come give me my truncheon.

Well, if this does not cure him of duelling, he ſhould have a ſtatute of lunacy taken out againſt him and be ſhut up in the hoſpital of incurables.

So! a pretty figure for a General! Eh, Boothby! I would not have you think, my dear boy, that it is out of fear I ſubmit to wear this effeminate diſguiſe ; it is only to avoid ſuffering an indig⯑nity unbecoming a man. Ever while you live, Boothby, pre⯑ſerve the dignity of man!

SCENE I. Capt. Boothby's Lodgings.

How! talk of ſhipping the young lady back to India! He dare not attempt it, ſure!

It is hard to ſay what an India Governor, accuſ⯑tomed to the inſolence of Aſiatic tyranny, may not attempt. His wealth may promiſe him impunity ; and a ſtep of that kind is eaſier prevented than amended. I have prevailed on Emi⯑lia, therefore, to give her aunt the ſlip and take refuge with Mrs. Boothby, to night. Tomorrow we ſhall ſeek another aſylum.

I rejoice at the occaſion afforded me of oblig⯑ing my friend, as I dare ſay Mrs. Boothby will, at that of aſ⯑ſiſting my couſin. —Mrs. Goodwill.

Pleaſe to let Mrs. Boothby know I would ſpeak to her.

She bade me tell you, Sir, ſhe was gone to the maſquerade. She ſaid you knew her dreſs, which might be eaſily diſtinguiſhed among the maſks.

This is unlucky. But no matter, you'll bring the lady here, Witmore, Mrs. Goodwill may be truſted, and will attend you till Mrs. Boothby returns.

I ſhall be obliged to her—You may expect us pre⯑ſently, Mrs. Goodwill.

So, Lady Lovemore has taken Mrs. Boothby to the maſquerade, you ſay, Mrs. Goodwill.

Oh no, Sir. Lady Lovemore ſent to excuſe herſelf : his Lordſhip alſo called afterwards, to acquaint Mrs. Boothby that an accident had happened, which prevented her ladyſhip from ſtirring out to night.

And did my wife go with his Lordſhip?

No, Sir, but, as he was very preſſing for her to do it, ſhe promiſed to follow him,

How! it was highly indiſcreet of her. Mrs. Goodwill to go alone. Be ſo obliging as to fetch my domi⯑no and maſk down ſtairs. madam—I muſt follow her imme⯑diately.

I dont half like Lady Lovemore's ſtaying at home and his Lordſhip's officiouſneſs, in ſeconding her meſſages and preſſing my wife to accompany him. —And yet there can be no de⯑ſign in it, ſure! —My wife refuſed to go with him. —Yes, but it ſeem ſhe promiſed to follow him ; and he knows, to her knowledge too, the habit ſhe was to appear in. —That —That —Zounds! what a tedious while this woman ſtays! I might almoſt have been with them by this time.

SCENE II. Sir Solomon Bauble's.

Gone out at this time of night! Emilia! my niece! Gone out! do you ſay?

BRUSH. Yes, my lady. She ſaid, becauſe his worſhip had loſt his beſt Othur yeſterday, ſhe would ſee that the ſtreet⯑door was locked to night herſelf. The Antic-queerians, ſhe ſaid, might run away with her, for ought ſhe knew. I thoft ſhe was coming up ſtairs immediately ; I thoft no harm.

And you let her go by herſelf, you illiterate, careleſs creature! did you? Some ruffians may have ruſhed in and carried her off by violence.

Very likely, my Lady, for I thoft I ſaw an ill-looking fellow, like a ſervant out of place, in an old livery, hankering and hankering about the door all the evening.

And why did not you tell me of it, then, you ſlut? My niece might be raviſhed, murdered, married, for ought you cared! Here, where is Sir Solomon? —Run all of you, ſome one way and ſome another. Alarm the watch, call up the conſtable —go dirctly for Governor Mammon — Where, where is Sir Solomon! —

Here, here, who calls! I was only juſt tak⯑ing leave of my princeſs before I went to bed, my lady.

Out updn your Princeſs—I wiſh you was bedded to her with all my heart. —You are a pretty guardian truly to take more care of a mummy than of your ward.

My ward! why what's the matter, wiſe?

Matter enough Sir, ſomebody has carried off your niece.

How! carried off Emilia! Run away with her by force?

Nay, I know not that : ſhe may have follow⯑ed the example of your daughter for ought I know. The collateral branches of the family may poſſibly take after one another, tho' they diverge in the deſcending line. —I won⯑der your maſculine ſagacity, Sir Solomon, did not foreſee this diſaſter.

I don't wonder that your feminine foreſight did not prevent it! Woman's wit! quotha! —But who went with her! —Which way went ſhe? —

Nay, if we knew that, we might know which way to go after her.

Well. Watchman, did you ſee any thing of a young Lady, who looked as if the was running away with herſelf?

Your worſhip's kinſwoman, Sir, Madam Emily, I think they call her, paſſed by my ſtand juſt now.

Any body with her?

A young gentleman, as my partner ſays, belong⯑ing to the Temple : He knows them, for my part I does not know neither him nor ſhe.

A templar! eh! a ſad dog, I'll warrant him, my lady.

Oh, a pretty rake! no doubt.

For my part, I took her for a crack ; as the gentleman called a coach off the ſtand and bid him drive toward Covent Garden.

Run, fly, Mr. Watchman, purſue the coach. Go, fellow, run.

Well, Sir, where have you been?

After my young miſtreſs, Sir, —And I came back to tell you that the coach drove ſo conſounded faſt that I could not overtake it.

Why did you not run faſter then, blockhead?

I did Sir. And yet, for all that, had it not ſtopped when it did, I ſhould have never have come up with it.

Then it did ſtop, and you did come up with it. Eh!

Yes, my lady, at the door of a habit ſhop in Ta⯑viſtock Street. I ſuppoſe the gentleman and miſs are going to the maſquerade. So I thought that, while they were putting on their dreſſes, I would juſt ſtep back, to let your Ladyſhip and his Worſhip know where to find them.

Well done Thomas. Yes, yes I'll be with them preſently. Give me my roccelo and bid ſomebody run and call a coach.

And me a chair. I'll ſlip on my things and go with you. Come Bruſh get me any bonnet and cloak.

Sir SOL. And do you hear, Thomas—run you to Governor Mammon and bring him after us immediately. —I'll deliver my niece into his hands this very night, I proteſt. You have done well Thomas—Bring Governor Mammon with you immediately. And, do you hear, Thomas for fear we ſhould want aſſiſtance, tell his Banyan to muſter up his attendants; from his Dallals and Darògas, down to his hon⯑our's Pykes, Peons and Cooleys. Do you hear Thomas!

I will Sir.

SCENE III. Boothby's Lodgings.

Don't be flurried, my dear Emilia, we are ar⯑rived ſafe.

I am ſo frightened, leſt they ſhould have followed and watched us in.

Don't be apprehenſive, my dear girl. —As we left the coach at the door of the habit-ſhop, and you came away maſked in a chair, we have certainly eluded the vigilance of our purſuers, if there were any.

This way Madam if you pleaſe. This way, Sir, be under no apprehenſions of ſurprize : The ſer⯑vants will let no ſtranger in without giving me notice.

Curſe on my fooliſh curioſity! How miſerable it has made me! I did not think I could have been ſo ſuddenly jealous. My wife Cannot ſure encourage Lord Lnvemore! And yet, as I watched them about the rooms, I ſurprized her in ſuch familiar converſation with him. She did not ſpeak loud enough for me to hear what ſhe ſaid, indeed ; but ſhe ſeemed to whiſper ſo frequently ; and her ſigns were ſo ſignificantly encouraging, her attitudes ſo provokingly in⯑viting, that I was ſeveral times in the mind to pluck the maſk from her face and expoſe her, him and myſelf, to the Company.—I did not imagine ſhe could ſo readily have entered into the ſpirit of the place. — —Who knows, in her gaité de coeur, how far things may be carried! [71] They may have left the rooms for greater freedom of conver⯑ſation elſewhere. —Confound the crowd in which I loſt fight of them.

Ha! here they are! —Bring him home to her own lodgings! Is this ſimplicity or art! —I fear I have been made their dupe. —But I'll ſee a little more.

Nay, my dear Mrs. Boothby, why carry on the farce now?

My dear Mrs. Boothby! Yes, yes, I am now convinced. —It is clear they have made a dupe of me.

Not one word! Have you ſo kindly invited me home not to ſpeak to me? Will not your tongue confirm my happineſs? By this hand I will force the ſeal of ſilence [...]om thoſe charming lips with kiſſes.

By this band, my Lord, but you ſhall not.

Oh!

Capt. Boothby!

Lord Loveinore! —Your Lordſhip has ſome grace left I ſee by your confuſion. And ſo my dear Mrs. Boothby has kindly invited you home, and after all won't ſpeak to yeu. —I will lay my commands on her, my Lord, ſhe ſhall ſpeak to you. —Come forth, Mrs. Boothby ; come forth and ſpeak to Lord Lovemore ; his Lordſhip is impatient to hear the confirmation of his happineſs from thoſe charm⯑ing lips.

Ha! locked! —Open the door this inſtant, madam, or, by [72] heavens I'll ſplit it into a thouſand pieces, Provoke not the rage of an injured huſband, left he ſhould be no longer able to reſtrain it.

On my honour, Mr. Boothby, no injury hath been done you.

Perhaps leſs than was intended, my Lord : but I am convinced it was not your fault that an irreparable injury is not done me. I am not ſo credulous, therefore, as to take your Lordſhip's word. Your honour, my Lord, is a bad ſecurity for your veracity. We muſt hear what Mrs. Boothby ſays to it. Come forth, I ſay, Madam — Mrs. Boothby!

Who calls me ſo loudly? —Mr. Boothby!

So ſoon undreſſed, madam! This is maſque⯑rading indeed! Did not you go into this room juſt now, in the habit, I ſaw you dreſſed in to night at the Haymarket?

You forgot, my dear, that there is no other door to that room. Nor did you ſee me to night dreſſed in any habit at the Haymarket.

How! madam! Would you perſuade me I did not know you? Did not you, Mrs. Goodwill, ſay my wife was gone to the maſquerade?

I ſaid, Sir, your Lady bade me tell you ſo.

No prevaricating, no ſhuffling madam! I ſay, my wife was to night at the maſquerde.

And I can anſwer for Ms. Boothby, Sir, that ſhe has not been out of doors to night. —She has been [73] converſing for ſome time with the gentleman and lady, you ecpected ; who are now above ſtairs.

Mr. Witmore and Emilia!

It is even ſo, my dear. Being diſap⯑pointed of my habit, I ſent to acquaint Lady Lovemore of it. who returned me word that an unforeſeen accident likewiſe prevented her Ladyſhip's going. Indeed my Lord came af⯑terwards to apologize for her, and preſſed me ſo hard to ac⯑company him, that, in order to get rid of his importunity, I was in a manner obliged to promiſe I would follow him : ſo that Mrs. Goodwill told you no untruth.

But why impoſe on me by equivocation?

That I mightoot deprive yoo of an amuſe⯑ment, my dear, merely becauſe I could not partake of it my⯑ſelf, I thought you would return when you did not find me among the maſks.

I thought I had found you, madam.

In the perſon, I ſuppoſe, to whom my habit was ſent by miſtake. You have no reaſon, I hope, to be much diſpleaſed at your diſappointment.

As you were prudent enough to diſappoint his Lordſhip, I am ſatisfied.

That is more than I am. —As Lady Love-more is at home, and Mrs. Boothby has not been abroad all the evening, you will give me leave to ſee who is in this room.

Force open the door, then, my Lord, you con⯑ducted hither the Lady who went into it.

That I will, without ceremony.

What violence is this?

What is all this, Mr. Boothby?

We ſhall ſee preſently, my dear. As yet I hardly know myſelf. Some demirp, I ſupooſe, has been [74] quetting with Lord Lovemore : but his reaſon for bringing her hither is ſomewhat particular.

Come, madam, will you be pleaſed to un⯑maſk, that I may know to whom I am obliged for ſo many civilities?

ALL but Lord Lovemore. Lady Lovemore! Ha! ha! ha!

'Sdeath! —have I been all this while mak⯑ing love to my own wife? —What a contemptible figure do I make here!

Come, come, my Lord, don't babaſhed. If you can be but half ſo gallant at home as I find you can be abroad, you may yet have no reaſon to repent it.

You, madam, may have reaſon though to repent of this fine foolery.

I ſhall never repent, my Lord, of preventing you doing what you yourſelf would have-much more reaſon to repent of. —Mrs. Boothby, I hope, will excuſe my perſon⯑ating her on this occaſion, as well as the artifices I made uſe of, to procure her habit and detain her at home.

Your Ladyſhip need not apologize to me for any thing that is paſt.

And what ſays Lord Lovemore to what has paſt?

Nothing, Sir. I am neither diſpoſed to aſk pardon nor bear reproof.

Well ſaid, Lord Lovemore! Carry it off like yourſelf. But I muſt have ſome talk with you on this bu⯑ſineſs; and that immediately too.

Ay, ay, this is the houſe, this is the houſe, my Lady. —Let the conſtables wait without.

What's this? Sir Solomon! my father in law!

I diſclaim you, Sir. —Where is my niece Emmiline? What! would not the robbing me of a daughter content you, but you muſt likewiſe ſeduce my ward?

And you, my pretty ſormal, ſugitive daughter, was it not enough that you had ruined yourſelf, but you muſt aſſiſt in the ruin of your run-away couſin too? —Where is ſhe?

Ay, where is ſhe! Let her appear this moment, or we'll call in the conſtables and break open the doors. She was ſeen to come in here.

Ay, ay, call in the conſtables, Sir Solomon ; and let them break open the doors.

Stand aſide, ſtand aſide there ; the young lady is found ; let her come in.

How! I thought they ſaid ſhe was already in the houſe.

No! no! Sir! We ſtopped her, an' pleaſe your worſhip, as ſhe was coming out of a chair to get into a poſt⯑chaiſe, to ſet off for France. Had not ſhe ſeemed ſhy of being ſeen, we ſhould not have ſuſpected her. She's very obſtropu⯑lous for a young lady! ſhe won't let us ſee her face—ſo that we are ſure it muſt be ſhe. —Let the lady come in, there.

Come miſs—you'll let theſe gentleſolks ſee your face, I ſuppoſe.

[aſide] Zounds! What a congregation are got to⯑gether here!

[aſide] The General! What a whimſical inci⯑dent! I muſt ſave his dignity farther mortification, or we ſhall have him quite outrageous.

Emily! that—that—Emily!

What a metamorphoſis! I proteſt, ſhe is ſo transformed, Sir Solomon, that I ſhould not have known her. Come, madam, pray unmaſk, and let us ſee the natural features of that bold face of thine

Hold, madam! my apartments are the young lady's protection. I receive company on all theſe public nights and nobody mult be unmaſked here againſt their will.

This way, madam, if you pleaſe : Mrs. Goodwill, be ſo good as to ſhew the lady up to the drawing room

Don't tell me

Oh!

What's the matter, my Lady? What, ſrightened at your niec!

No, no, that hard-featured thing is more likely to be her gallant.

Her gallant! What in petticoats! Fine doings theſe!

Yes, yes, your niece is got into fine com⯑pany here—but if I don't rout them—Here, where's the conſtable.

Hold, madam. Your Ladyſhip muſt excuſe me, if I prevent you from expoſing yourſelf here.

How Sir! will you detain a ward from her guardian?

Oh! here comes the Governor. We ſhall hear what he ſays to it.

Wait without there.

Sir SOL. 'Tis well you are come, Governor—Egad, you had like to have been a wife out of pocket, I can tell you. — Mr. Conſtable look well to the doors—Thomas, ſee that no⯑body ſhips out.

Is the young lady overtaken then, Sir Solomon?

Yes, yes, we have houſed her. She's ſafe enough above ſtairs, if we can but prevail on this gentleman to part with her. Though he cares not for the authority of fathers or guardians, he may reſpect perhaps the prerogatives and privileges of a huſband!

A huſband, Sir Solomon I Is your niece then the gentleman's wife?

She muſt be, Sir, if I'm diſpoſed to marry her.

Perhaps not, Sir, if ſhe is not ſo already : but here ſhe comes.

Another metamorphoſis! So, madam, you thought your ſhallow cunning could outwit your uncle's and my profound ſagacity, did you?

[to Wit.] How, Mr. Witmore! Is it you that are my rival?

The young lady, Governor, hath preferred me to be her guardian ; and no violence muſt be offered her incli⯑nations.

Nor ſhall there, Barriſter, on my account, I promiſe you.

How, Sir!

I have this afternoon, Sir Solomon, been in⯑formed by a relation, whom I adviſed of my arrival, that this young Barriſter is my nephew.

Sir!

How! the Governor your uncle! and you ſo undutiful at not to know any thing about him!

His ignorance of me is excuſeable, Sir Solo⯑mon : It is long ſince I correſponded with the family. —He may poſſibly have heard of me, but there have been ſo many Mammons of late years imported from India, that, had the name implied affinity, he might have expected a cargo of couſins by every fleet. But know me now, young gentleman, for your uncle

Well, but what is to become of our niece!

Why, give her to my kinſman, Madam. I really think the young lady hath provided better for herſelf than her friends had provided for her.

And do you reſign her to him, Governor?

Why, look ye, Sir Solomon, I did not chuſe to forfeit my lack of Rupees; but as the money will not now go out of the family, I can refign the lady without reluctance. So that, if you conſent to their marriage, the young folks ſhall not be diſappointed.

Well, what ſay you to the propoſal, my lady?

Say! Sir Solomon! What is there to be ſaid? Governor Mammon having a right to claim Emilia for himſelf, he has a fortiori, as the Logicians ſay, a right to diſpoſe of her to his Nephew.

Well then, Barriſter, with the Governor's leave, I don't ſay take her ; but, as you have got, you may keep her.

I thank you, Sir Solomon. —But to you, Sir,

I know not how to make my acknowledgements.

When we are better acquainted, Nephew, you may learn.

Ay, ay—and, as you have got ſo good an Uncle and a wife into the bargain, Barriſter, you ought to be ſatisfied.

Not quite, Sir. You will give me leave to hope you will extend your goodneſs alſo to my friend Boothby and your daughter.

May I hope for ſo great a bleſſing as your pardon, madam?

Sir Solomon!

Nay, if it reſts with me—there—there, take both our bleſſings between you. It is all I can ſpru at preſent, tho'; take that with you.

I hope otherwiſe, Sir.

Never fear, Boothby ; when favour once comes, fortune will ſoon follow.

By heavens, this is not to be put up with. Bedizen'd like a ſtrumpet, dogg'd by thief-takers, dragged along like a ſtreet-walker! —Capt. Boothby, I muſt have ſatisfaction for all this ; I underſtand it was a plot of yours and my lady ſiſter's, to expoſe me. As to her, ſhe is a woman, and I'll have nothing more to do with petticoats.

Faith, General, I aſk your pardon with all my heart. But I acted in concert with Lady Lovemore merely to ſet this ſavage cuſtom of duelling, you are ſo ab⯑ſurdly fond of, in a ridiculous light.

Yes, faith, I feel myſelf ridiculous enough in all conſcience. But my dignity, Boothby!

How, General! Doth dignity conſiſt in the brutal cuſtom of cutting throats, like cannibals, in cold [80] blood ? Did the heroes of antiquity want dignity? Yet did Caeſar ever ſend a challenge to Cato, or Cato to Caeſar?

Caeſar and Cato, Boothby, were clever fellows, in their day, no doubt. Yes, your Caeſars and Catos muſt have been fine fellows in there time. But ſword and piſtol were not then in vogue, and the fight⯑ing one's friends was not come in faſhion. You may call me abſurd, if you will ; but how is a man of honour at preſent to ſupport his conſequence without having recourſe to the Duel ?

By having recourſe to his good-nature, my dear General : Believe me, there is often more fortitude in forgiv⯑ing an injury than in revenging it ; and always more dignity in deſpiſing inſults than in reſenting them.