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Sir Pet. Oons ! what a fury !
Lady Teas. A malicious creature, indeed I
Sir Pet. What! not for her last wish ?
Lady Teaz. Oh, no!
Sir Oliv. Well, sir, and what have you to say now?

Jos. Surf. Sir, I am so confounded, to find that Lady Sneerwell could be guilty of suborning Mr. Snake in this manner, to impose on us all, that I know not what to say : however, lest her revengeful spirit should prompt her to injure my brother, I had certainly better follow her directly. For the man who attempts to

Exit. Sir Pet. Moral to the last !

Sir Oliv. Ay, and marry her, Joseph, if you can. Oil and vinegar !-egad you'll do very well together.

Row. I believe we have no more occasion for Mr. Snake at present ?

Snake. Before I go, I beg pardon once for all, for whatever uneasiness I have been the humble instrument of causing to the parties present.

Sir Pet. Well, well, you have made atonement by a good deed at last.

Snake. But I must request of the company, that it shall never be known.

Sir Pet. Hey! what the plague ! are you ashamed of having done a right thing once in your life ?

Snake. Ah, sir, consider-I live by the badness of my character; and, if it were once known that I had been betrayed into an honest action, I should lose every friend I have in the world.

Sir Oliv. Well, well-we'll not traduce you by saying anything in your praise, never fear.

[Exit SNAKE. Sir Pet. There's a precious rogue !

Lady Teas. See, Sir Oliver, there needs no persuasion now to reconcile your nephew and Maria.

Sir Oliv. Ay, ay, that's as it should be, and, egad, we'll have the wedding to-morrow morning.

Chas. Surf. Thank you, dear uncle.

Sir Pet. What, you rogue ! don't you ask the girl's consent first?

Chas. Surf. Oh, I have done that a long time-a minute ago-and she has looked yes.

Mar. For shame, Charles L-I protest, Sir Peter, there has not been a word

Sir Oliv. Well, then, the fewer the better ; may your love for each other never know abatement.

Sir Pe. And may you live as happily together as Lady Teazle and I intend to do!

Chas. Surf. Rowley, my old friend, I am sure you congratulate me; and I suspect that I owe you much.

Sir Oliv. You do, indeed, Charles.
Sir Pet. Ay, honest Rowley always said you would refor.

Chas. Surf. Why, as to reforming, Sir Peter, I'll make no promises, and that I take to be a proof that I intend to set about it. But here shall be my monitor—my gentle guide. Ah ! can I leave the virtuous path those eyes illumine?

Though thou, dear maid, shouldst waive thy beauty's sway,
Thou still must rule, because I will obey :
An humble fugitive from Folly view,
No sanctuary near but Love and you :

[To the audience
You can, indeed, each anxious fear remove,
For even Scandal dies, if you approve.

[Exeunt omnt.


I, who was late so volatile and gay,
Like a trade-wind must now blow all one way,
Bend all my cares, my studies, and my vows,
To one dull rusty weathercock--my spouse !
So wills our virtuous bard—the motley Bayes
Of crying epilogues and laughing plays !
Old bachelors, who marry smart young wives,
Learn from our play to regulate your lives :
Each bring his dear to town, all faults upon her
London will prove the very source of honour.
Plunged fairly in, like a cold bath it serves,
When principles relax, to brace the nerves :
Such is my case ; and yet I must deplore
That the gay dream of dissipation's o'er.
And say, ye fair! was ever lively wife,
Born with a genius for the highest life,
Like me untimely blasted in her bloom,
Like me condemn'd to such a dismal doom?
Save money—when I just knew how to waste it I
Leave London-just as I began to taste it !

Must I then watch the early crowing cock,
The melancholy ticking of a clock;

In a lone rustic hall for ever pounded,
With dogs, cats, rats, and squalling brats surrounded ?
With humble curate can I now retire,
(While good Sir Peter boozes with the squire,)
And at backgammon mortify my soul,
That pants for loo, or flutters at a vole?
Seven's the main ! Dear sound that must expire,
Lost at hot cockles round a Christmas fire ;
The transient hour of fashion too soon spent,
Farewell the tranquil mind, farewell content !
Farewell the plumèd head, the cushion'd tête,
That takes the cushion from its proper seat !
That spirit-stirring drum !-card drums I mean,
Spadille-odd trick--pam-basto-king and queen I
And you, ye knockers, that, with brazen throat,
The welcome visitors' approach denote;
Farewell all quality of high renown,
Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious town!
Farewell ! your revels I partake no more, .
And Lady Teazle's occupation's o'er !
All this I told our bard; he smiled, and said 'twas clear,
I ought to play deep tragedy next year.
Meanwhile he drew wise morals from his play,
And in these solemn periods stalk'd away :
“Bless'd were the fair like you ; her faults who stoppida
And closed her follies when the curtain dropp'd !
No more in vice or error to engage,
Or play the fool at large on life's great stage."



TO MRS. GREVILLE. MADAM, --In requesting your permission to address the following pages to you, which, as they aim themselves to be critical, require every protection and allowance that approving taste or friendly prejudice can give them. I yet ventured to mention no other motive than the gratification of private friendship and esteem. Had I suggested a hope that your implied approbation would give a sanction to their defects, your particular reserve, and dislike to the reputation of critical taste, as well as of poetical talent, would have made you refuse the protection of your name to such a purpose. However, I am not so ungrateful as now to attempt to combat this disposi. tion in you. I shall not here presume to argue that the present state of poetry claims and expects every assistance that taste and example can afford it; nor endeavour to prove that a fastidious concealment of the most elegaæt productions of judgment and fancy is an ill return for the possession of those endowments. Continue to deceive yourself in the idea that you are known only to be emin mly admired and regarded for the valuable qualities that attach private frier dships, and the graceful talents that adorn conversation. Enough of wha' . you have written has stolen into full public notice to answer my purpose ; und you will, perhaps, be the only person, conversant in elegant literature, who shall read this address and not perceive that by publishing your particular approbation of the following drama, I have a more interested object than to boast the true respect and regard with which I have the honour to be, Madam, your very sincere and obedient humble servant,



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Mr. Hop. PUFF .

. . . Mr. King MR. HOPKINS. DANGLE . Mr. Dodd.

\ Mrs. HopSNEER.



PASTICCIO and the Miss

Pasticcio ( Miss Field INTERPRETER

Mr. Badde


Mr. Philli Scenemen, Musicians, and




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CHARACTERS OF THE TRAGEDY. LORD BURLEIGH . . Mr. Moody. JUSTICE i...Mr. Packer. GOVERNOR OF TIL | Mr. Wrighten. CONSTABLE. . . . Mr. Fawceti. GOVERNOR OF TIL-LYWachi SON . . . . . . Mr. Lamash,

BURY FORT. . s Earl of LEICESTER Mr. Farren. THAMES . . . . · Mr. Gawdry. SiR WALTER RALM Beurtre TILBURINA . . . MISS Pope. LEIGH. . ..


Mrs. Brad. Six CHRISTOPHER Mr. Waldron. Is

shaw. HATTON . . .

Justice's LADYMrs. Johnston. MASTER OF THE Į Mr. Kenny. SECOND NIECE. . . Miss Kirby.

First NIECE ... Miss Collett. HORSE . . DON FEROLO WHIS. I Mr. Bannis. Knights, Guards, Constables, Sen

KERANDOS.. ter, jun. Itinels, Servants, Chorus, Rivers, BEEFEATER .. Mr. Wright. | Attendants, &c., &c. SCENE,-LONDON : in Dangle's House during the First Act, and

throughout the rest of the Play in DRURY LANE THEATRE


The sister Muses, whom these realms obey,
Who o'er the drama hold divided sway,
Sometimes by evil counsellors, 'tis said,
Like earth-born potentates have been misled.
In those gay days of wickedness and wit,
When Villiers criticised what Dryden writ,
The tragic queen, to please a tasteless crowd,
Had learn'd to bellow, rant, and roar so loud,
That frighten'd Nature, her best friend before,
The blustering beldam's company foreswore ;
Her comic sister, who had wit 'tis true,
With all her merits, had her failings too;
And would sometimes in mirthful moments use
A style too flippant for a well-bred muse;
Then female modesty abash'd began
To seek the friendly refuge of the fan,
Awhile behind that slight intrenchment stood,
Till driven from thence, she left the stage for good.
In our more pious, and far chaster times,
These sure no longer are the Muses' crimes !
But some complain that, former faults to shun,
The reformation to extremes has run.
The frantic hero's wild delirium past,
Now insipidity succeeds bombast;
So slow Melpomene's cold numbers creep,
Here dulness seems her drowsy court to keep,
And we are scarce awake, whilst you are fast aslerp.
Thalia, once so ill-behaved and rude,
Reform'd, is now become an arrant prude ;
Retailing nightly to the yawning fit
The purest morals, undehled bv wit !

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