twenty horses in less time than she takes to dress her fetlocks, plait her mane, trim her ears, and buckle on her body-clothes.

Harry. You improve daily, Charles!

Gold. To be sure!-That's your sort!-[Turning round to show himself.] An't I a genus?

Harry. Quite an original!-You may challenge the whole fraternity of the whip to match you!

Gold. Match me! Newmarket can't match me! [Showing himself.]-That's your sort!

Harry. Oh no! Ha, ha, ha! You are harder to match than one of your own pied ponies.-A very different being from either your father or grandfather! Gold. Father or grandfather!--Shakebags both. Harry. How?

Gold. Father a sugar-baker, grandfather a slopseller-I'm a gentleman-That's your sort!

Harry. Ha, ha, ha! And your father was only a man of worth.

Gold. Kept a gig! [With great contempt.]-Knew nothing of life!-Never drove four!

Harry. No, but he was a useful member of soeiety.

Gold. A usef! What's that?

Harry. Ha, ha, ha! A pertinent question.

Gold. A gentleman like me a useful member of society! Bet the long odds, nobody ever heard of such a thing!

Harry. You have not acquired your character in the world for nothing, Charles.

Gold. World!What does the world say?

Harry. Strange things-It says you have got into the hands of jockeys, Jews, and swindlers: and that, though old Goldfinch was, in his day, one of the richest men on 'Change, his son will shortly become poorer than the poorest black-leg at Newmarket. Gold. Damn the world!

Harry. With all my heart; damn the world; for it says little better of me.

Gold. Bet you seven to five the Eclipse colts against the Highflyers, the second spring meeting. Harry. No: I have done with Highflyer and Eclipse too. So you are in pursuit of the Widow? Gold. Full cry!-Must have her!

Harry. Ha, ha, ha! Heigho! You must?

Gold. All up with me else! If I don't marry the Widow, I must smash !-I've secured the knowing

one.

Harry. Whom do you mean? The maid?

Gold. Promised her a hundred on the weddingday.

Enter JENNY.

Jenny. My mistress can't see you at present, gentlemen.

Gold. Can't see me? [Vexed.] Take Harriet an airing in the phaeton.

Harry. What, is Harriet your favourite?

Gold. To be sure! I keep her!

Harry. You do?

Gold. Fine creature!

Harry. Well bred?

Gold. Just to my taste!-Like myself, free and easy. That's your sort!

Harry. A fine woman ?

Gold. Prodigious! Sister to the Irish Giant! Six feet in her stockings-That's your sort!-Sleek coat, flowing mane, broad chest, all bone!-Dashing figure in a phaeton'-Sky-blue habit, scarlet sash, green hat, yellow ribbands, white feathers, gold band and tassel-That's your sort!

Harry. Ha, ha, ha! Heigho!-Why, you are a high fellow, Charles!

Gold. To be sure !-Know the odds !-Hold four in hand-Turn a corner in style!-Reins in formElbows square-Wrist pliant-Hayait!-Drive the Coventry stage twice a week all summer :-Pay for an inside place-Mount the box-Tip the coachy a crown- Beat the mail-Come in full speed;-Rattle down the gate way!-Take care of your heads! Never killed but one woman and a child in all my life-That's your sort!

[Going. Jenny. [Aside to GOLDFINCH,] Take him with

you.

[Exit. Gold. Want a hedge-Take guineas to pounds, Precipitate against Dragon.

Harry. No.

Gold. [Aside.] Wish I could have him a few!--Odd or even for fifty? [Drawing his hand clenched from his pocket]

Harry. Ha, ha, ha! Odd enough!

Gold. Will you cut a card, hide in the hat, chuck in the glass, draw cuts, heads or tails, gallop the maggot, swim the hedgehog, any thing?

Harry. Nothing.

Gold. I'm up to all-That's your sort!-Get him with me, and pigeon him. [Aside.] Come and see my greys-Been to Tattersall's and bought a set of six -Smokers!-Beat all England for figure, bone, and beauty!-Hayait, charmers!That's your sort! Bid for two pair of mouse ponies for Harriet.

Harry. Ha, ha, ha! The Irish giantess drawn by mouse ponies!

Gold. Come and see 'em.

Harry. [Sarcastically.] No. I am weary of the company of stable-boys.

Gold. Why so?-Sha'n't play you any tricks-If they squirt water at you, or make the colts kick you, tell me, and I'll horsewhip 'em-Arch dogs! Deal of wit!

Harry. When they do, I'll horsewhip them myself.

Gold. Yourself?-'Ware that-Wrong there!
Harry. I think I should be right.

Gold. Do you? -What-Been to school?
Harry. To school!-Why yes-I-

Gold. Mendoza !-Oh!-Good morrow!

[Exit.

Harry. Ha, ha, ha! There goes one of my friends! Heigho!

Enter MILFORD, in haste, followed by GOLDFINCH,

returning.

Gold. What is it, Jack?-Tell me!

[Eagerly. Milf. Come, Harry! we shall be too late! They are about to begin! We may have what bets we please!

Gold. Where?-What?

Milf. The great match! The famous Frenchman, and Will the marker! A thousand guineas a side! Gold. What, tennis?

Milf. Yes. The Frenchman gives fifteen and a bisque.

Gold. To Will the marker?

Milf. Yes.

Gold. Will for a hundred!

Milf. Done!

Gold. Done, done!

Harry, I bar the bet the odds are five to four al

Harry. Yes.

Gold. I'll take it,-five hundred to four.-
Harry. Done!

Gold. Done, done!

Harry, No, I bar!-I forgot-I have cut. I'll

never bet another guinea.

Milf. You do, for a hundred!

Harry Done!

Muf. Done, done!-Ha, ha, ha!

Harry. Pshaw!

Gold. What a cake!

Milf. But you'll go?
Harry. No.

Milf. Yes, you will.-Come, come, the match is begun! Every body is there! The Frenchman is the first player in the world!

Harry. It's a noble exercise!

Milf. Ay, Cato himself delighted in it!

Harry. Yes, it was much practised by the Ro

mans.

Gold. The Romans! who are they?

Harry. Ha, ha, ha!

Milf. Ha, ha, ha!-Will you go, or will you not, Harry?

me.

Harry. I can't, Jack. My conscience won't let

Milf. Pshaw! Zounds! if we don't make haste, it will be all over!

Harry. [In a hurry.] Do you think it will? [Stops short.] No-I won't-I must not.

Milf. [Taking hold of his arm.] Come along, I tell you!

Harry. No.

Milf. They have begun!

Gold. Have they?--I'm off!

[Exit.

Milf. [Still struggling, and HARRY retreating.]

What folly!-Come along!

Harry. No-I will not.

Milf. [Leaving him, and going.] Well, well, if you're so positive

Harry. [Calling.] Stay, Jack, stay--I'll walk up the street with you, but I won't go in.

Milf. Double or quits, the hundred that you won of me last night, you do!

Harry. I don't, for a thousand!

Milf. No, no, the hundred !

Harry. I tell you I won't. I won't go in with you.