Col. Lamb. 'Sdeath! here he comes.
Charl. Now we are all in a fine pickle.

Sir JOHN LAMBERT enters hastily; and, looking sternly at DARNLEY, takes CHARLOTTE under his arm, and carries her off.

Col. Lamb. Sowell said, doctor. ""Tis he, "I am sure, has blown this fire; what horrid hands "is our poor family fallen into and how the rogue "seems to triumph in his power!- -How little is 66 my father like himself!-By nature open, just, and generous; but this vile hypocrite drives his weak "passions like the wind; and I foresee, at last, some"thing fatal will be the consequence.

"Darn. Not if by speedily detecting him, you take "care to prevent it.

"Col. Lamb. Why, I have a thought that might expose him to my father; and, in some unguarded "hour, we may yet, perhaps, surprise this lurking "thief without his holy vizor." [Exeunt.

ACT II. SCENE 1.

An Ante-Chamber in Sir JOHN LAMBERT's House.
SEYWARD, with a Writing in his Hand.

Seyward.

'Tis so I have long suspected where his zeal would end; in the making of his private fortune.

But then, to found it on the ruin of his patron's children!I shudder at the villany. What desperation may a son be driven to, so barbarously disinherited! -Besides, his daughter, fair Charlotte, too, is wronged; wronged in the tenderest point: for so extravagant is this settlement, that it leaves her not a shilling, unless she marries with the doctor's consent, which is intended, by what I have heard, as an expedient to oblige her to marry the doctor himself. Now, 'twere but an honest part to let Charlotte know the snare that's laid for her. This deed's not signed, and may be yet prevented. It shall be so.——— Yes, charming creature-I adore you. And, though I am sensible my passion is without hope, I may indulge it thus far, at least; I may have the merit of serving you, and perhaps the pleasure to know you think yourself obliged by me.

Enter Sir JOHN, Lady LAMBERT, and CHARLOTTE.

Sir J. Lamb. Oh, Seyward, your uncle wants you to transcribe some hymns.

Seyw. Sir, I'll wait on him.

Charl. A pretty well-bred fellow that.

[Exit.

Sir J. Lamb. Ay, ay; but he has better qualities than his good breeding.

Charl. He's always clean, too.

Sir J. Lamb. I wonder, daughter, when you will take notice of a man's real merit. Humphwell bred and clean, forsooth. Would not one think now she was describing a coxcomb? When do you

hear my wife talk at this rate? and yet she is as young as your fantastical ladyship.

Lady Lamb. Charlotte is of a cheerful temper, my dear; but I know you don't think she wants discretion.

Sir J. Lamb. I shall try that presently; and you, my dear, shall judge between us. In short, daughter, your course of life is but one continual round of playing the fool to no purpose; and therefore I am resolved to make you think seriously, and marry.

Charl. That I shall do before I marry, sir, you may depend upon it.

Sir J. Lamb. Um-That I am not so sure of; but you may depend upon my having thought seri ously, and that's as well; for the person I intend you, is, of all the world, the only man who can make you truly happy.

Charl. And of all the world, sir, that's the only man I'll positively marry.

Lady Lamb. You have rare courage, Charlotte; if I had such a game to play, I should be frighted out of my wits.

Charl. Lord, madam, he'll make nothing of it, depend upon it.

Sir J. Lamb. Mind what I say to you.

This won

derful man, I say, first, in his public character, is re

ligious, zealous, and charitable.

Charl. Very well, sir.

Sir J. Lamb. In his private character, sober.

Charl. I should hate a sot.

Sir J. Lamb. Chaste.

Charl. A hem!

[Stifling a laugh.

Sir J. Lamb. What is it you sneer at, madam ?You want one of your fine gentlemen rakes, I suppose, that are snapping at every woman they meet with?

Charl. No, no, sir; I am very well satisfied.I-I should not care for such a sort of a man, no more than I should for one that every woman was ready to snap at.

Sir J. Lamb. No; you'll be secure from jealousy; he has experience, ripeness of years he is almost forty-nine. Your sex's vanity will have no charms for him.

Charl. But all this while, sir, I don't find that he has charms for our sex's vanity. How does he look? Is he tall, well made? Does he dress, sing, talk, laugh, and dance well? Has he good hair, good teeth, fine eyes? Doth he keep a chaise, coach, and vis-a-vis ? Has he six prancing ponies? Does he wear the Prince's niform, and subscribe to Brookes's ?

Sir J. Lamb. Was there ever so profligate a creature? What will this age come to?

Lady Lamb. Nay, Charlotte, here I must be against you. Now you are blind indeed. A woman's happiness has little to do with the pleasure her husband takes in his own person,

Sir J. Lamb. Right.

Lady Lamb. It is not how he looks, but how he loves, is the point.

Sir J. Lamb. Good again.

Lady Lamb. And a wife is much more secure that has charms for her husband, than when the husband has only charms for her.

Sir J. Lamb. Admirable! Go on, my dear.

Lady Lamb. Do you think a woman of five-andtwenty may not be much happier with an honest man of fifty, than the finest woman of fifty with a young fellow of five-and-twenty?

Sir J. Lamb. Mark that.

Charl. Ay, but when two five-and-twenties come together!dear papa, you must allow they have a chance to be fifty times as pleasant and frolick

some.

Sir J. Lamb. Frolicksome! Why, you sensual idiot, what have frolicks to do with solid happiness? I am ashamed of you-Go, you talk worse than a girl at a boarding-school-Frolicksome! as if marriage was only a license for two people to play the fool according to law. Methinks, madam, you have a better example of happiness before your face. Here's one has ten times your understanding, and she, you find, has made a different choice.

talk! you you

Charl. Lord, sir, how don't consider people's tempers. I don't say my lady is not in the right; but then, you know, papa, she's a prude, and I am a coquette; she becomes her character very well, I don't deny it; and I hope you see every thing I do is as consistent with mine.- -Your wise people may