with; and I always like to make the most of 'emIt's a way I have.

Bab. Madam! It's a way I have. If not fhut up fhop-but, with fuch a friend-partner, I would fay

Mrs. Ant: Oh! Mr. Babble!

Bab. Oh! Mrs. Antidote! (aside.) She blushes without rouge-wonderful-out of fashion long ago.

Mrs. Ant. Adieu! dear Mr. Babble. Endeavour to spare an early hour-You have motives fufficient I truft-Adieu. [Exit.

J. Bab. Adieu-dear Mrs. Antidote-that woman's Antidote by name, and antidote by natureLove's out of the queftion-muft marry her for all that-As to motives-I've one that's irrefiftablemy bill-knock at the door-again in an hourwant money-muft have it-and fhe has fifteen hundred pounds-certain remedy for a confumptionwill do more execution than all the phyfic in my fhop.

SONG.-JEREMIAH BABBLE.

When from London first I came,

I wasn't worth a crown,

For tho' puffing rais'd me up,
The hammer knock'd me down;

So, as one trade would not do,
I resolv'd to try how two

Would succeed in this wonderful town O!

Open'd shop-Ladies crop,

When they're ill-powder, pill,
Sell to cure 'em-life insure 'em ;
Either please 'em-so I fleece 'em,
Shave 'em, latherum-Omnium gatherum,

Hey down, oh down, derry derry down,

Was my way in this wonderful town O!

Was stopp'd by a bum bailey,

Who met me in this wonderful town O!
Lock up house-had me close,
Sins to varnish-paid my garnish,
Bound in fetters-like my betters;
Could'nt pay-hanging day,

Spirits fail'd me-friendship bail'd me,
Hey down, &c.

What a chance in this wonderful town O!

Thus, traders, after smashes,

Like the Phoenix from her ashes,

Recover safe and sound,

Paying three-pence in the pound;

So I from limbo easy,

And with something new to please you,

Send

my

bills thro' all this wonderful town O! Hope you'll stop, at Babble's shop, Please to call-serve you all;

This the place-state your case,

Loaves and fishes-just my wish is,
That's the whole-upon my soul,

Hey down, &c.

And to satisfy this wonderful town O!

[Exit,

A C T II.

SCENE I-OLD WHITETHORN's Cottage.

Enter OLD WHITETHORN and ELLEN.

White. I tell you Ellen, you ought to rejoice at getting clear of fuch a companion as that Peter Babble. He's for all the world like a weed in my garden, winding himself round a beautiful flower, destroying the ftem that nourish'd it. But enough of him: happiness comes fo feldom, he's a fool that will not make the moft on't.

Ellen. Then why not tell me this good news, father; 'twould help to make me happier.

Whit. It's an odd whim to be fure; but I mustn't. -now don't you be curious, Ellen-have patience, girl. You fee a little spot of good luck has been lying fallow a plaguy long time, and I have but juft turn'd it up. Come fetch me a bottle of gooseberry wine, Ellen, and then fee if your brother is coming. Exit ELLEN. Now that girl has got love into her head, and no. thing will fatisfy her but a husband. Well, perhaps fhe's right; I have heard matrimony is the only cure for it. 'Twas much the fame with me, when I was a youngster, fo I can't blame her.

Re-enter ELLEN, with Bottle and Cup.)

Ellen. Here's the wine, father, it's the last bottle; I've drawn the cork; but it's very hard you won't tell me now: Now, pray tell me!

D

White. Get away you coaxing baggage! Look out for Oliver, I wish he was come.

Ellen. So do I, I long to fee him; perhaps he knows the secret, and I'm fure he'll tell me. [Exit. White. I am glad fhe's gone, she'd certainly have found me out. Now, then, I'll drink a glafs of wine in chearfulness, and I'll have a fong too, tho' I fing it myself. (Fills his cup.)

SONG-WHITETHORN,

When I have my bottle, I'll never complain,
Nor envy the drinkers of Hock or Champaign;
It strengthens my body, my spirit it cheers,
And takes from my age, aye, a dozen good years,
In a glass of good wine.

From my snug little cottage, I ne'er wish to roam,
But I'll drink a good health to the lads far from home:
By land and by sea we have conquered they tell us,
So-soldiers and sailors and all jolly fellows.

In a glass of good wine.

At home and abroad now together we stand,

And in friendly alliance are bound heart and hand:
Confusion to those who such friendship would sever-
The King and the Prince-and Old England for ever!.
In a glass of good wine.

Enter PETER BABBLE and ELLEN.

Peter. Can't fay I know any thing about himwish I did-tell Fanny directly, and then

Ellen. An then, what?

Peter. Something new, a wedding-two perhaps -But mum's the word.

White. Well, Mafter Peter, what's the news with you?

Peter. Don't you know-dear me, not know the news? Rare work in the village-Old Sidney's come back

Ellen. Indeed! Mr. Sidney?———————

White. Well, that's nothing new; I've feen him. Peter. You feen him-hem! that's a twang!Impoffible! I got firft intelligence-all in commotion-met his Valey de Sham-got all the particulars-ftopt last night top o'the hill-footpad and a blunderbufs-made a devil of a noife-did you hear the report?

White. No. Mr. Sidney faid nothing of this to me. (aside.)

Peter. Robb'd him of twenty pounds.
White. Twenty pounds!

Peter. Yes-fhort man-no figure-not at all courageous-wifh I had been there-talk'd of dif trefs his father-fifter-fo forth-all gammon, you know.

White. Ha! what, his father!

Peter. Yes, I've my fufpicions; but, mum's the word-I fay nothing-can't help thinking. Where's Oliver ?

White. It can't be. He never could. No, no, it can't be !

Ellen. Dear father, what's the matter? Why do you turn fo pale?

Peter. Thought as much-all in a pucker-know 'twas Oliver-great diftrefs-very forry-can't help tho' all the better for me.- Don't be alarm'd -mayn't be him after all.

White. Mayn't be who? Speak, fcoundrel, who do you mean?

Peter. 1-1-mean-that is-blefs my foul, don't fly out fo!--