CROAKER.

I wish we could both fay fo. However, this gentleman, Sir William Honeywood, has been beforehand with you, in obtaining their pardon. So, if the two poor fools have a mind to marry, I think we can tack them together without croffing the Tweed for it. [Joining their hands.

LEONTINE.

How bleft and unexpected! What, what can we fay to fuch goodness! But, our future obedience fhall be the best reply. And, as for this gentleman, to whom we owe

Sir WILLIAM.

Excufe me, Sir, if I interrupt your thanks, as I have here an interest that calls me. Turning to Honeywood.) Yes, Sir, you are furprised to fee me; and I own that a defire of correcting your follies led me hither. I faw, with indignation, the errors of a mind that only fought applaufe from others; that eafinefs of difpofition, which, though inclined to the right, had not courage to condemn the wrong. I faw, with regret, those splendid errors, that still took name from fome neighbouring duty. Your charity, that was but injustice; your benevolence, that was but weaknefs; and your friendship, but credulity. I faw, with regret, great talents, and extensive learning, only employed to add fprightlinefs to error, and encrease your perplexities. I faw your mind with a thousand natural charms: but,

the

the greatnefs of its beauty ferved only to heighten my pity for it's proftitution.

HONEYWOOD.

Ceafe to upbraid me, Sir: I have for fome time but too ftrongly felt the juftice of your reproaches. But there is one way ftill left me. Yes, Sir, I have determined this very hour, to quit for ever a place where I have made myfelf the voluntary flave of all; and to feek among ftrangers that fortitude which may give ftrength to the mind, and marshal all its diffipated virtues. Yet, ere I depart, permit me to folicit favour for this gentleman; who, notwithftanding what has happened, has laid me under the moft fignal obligations. Mr. Lofty

LOFTY.

Mr. Honeywood, I'm refolved upon a reformation, as well as you. I now begin to find, that the man who first invented the art of speaking truth was a much cunninger fellow than I thought him. And, to prove that I defign to fpeak truth for the future, I must now affure you, that you owe your late enlargement to another; as, upon my foul, I had no hand in the matter. So now if any of the company has a mind for preferment, he may take my place, I'm determined to refign.

HONEYWOOD.

How have I been deceived!

[Exit.

Sir WILLIAM.

No, Sir, you have been obliged to a kinder, fairer friend for that favour. To Mifs Richland. Would the complete our joy, and make the man she has honoured by her friendship happy in her love, I should then forget all, and be as bleft as the welfare of my dearest kinfman can make me.

Mifs RICHLAND.

After what is paft, it would be but affectation to pretend to indifference. Yes, I will own an attachment, which, I find, was more than friendship. And, if my intreaties cannot alter his refolution to quit the country, I will even try if my hand has not power to detain him. [Giving her hand.

HONEYWOOD.

Heavens! how can I have deferved all this? How express my happiness, my gratitude! A moment, like this, overpays an age of apprehenfion.

CROAKER.

Well, now I fee content in every face; but Heaven fend we be all better this day three months!

Sir WILLIAM.

Henceforth, nephew, learn to refpect yourself. He who feeks only for applaufe from without, has all his happiness in another's keeping.

Ho

HONEYWOOD.

Yes, Sir, I now too plainly perceive my errors. My vanity in attempting to pleafe all, by fearing to offend any. My meanness in approving folly, left fools fhould difapprove. Henceforth, therefore, it shall be my ftudy to referve my pity for real diftrefs; my friendship for true merit; and my love for her, who first taught me what it is to be happy.

ΕΡΙ.

EPILOGUE. *

SPOKEN BY

MRS. BULK LE Y.

As

S puffing quacks some caitiff wretch procure
To fwear the pill, or drop, has wrought a cure;
Thus, on the ftage, our play-wrights ftill depend
For Epilogues and Prologues on fome friend,
Who knows each art of coaxing up the town,
And make full many a bitter pill go down.
Conscious of this, our bard has gone about,
And teaz'd each rhyming friend to help him out.
An Epilogue, things can't go on without it;
It could not fail, would you but fet about it.
Young man, cries one, (a bard laid up in clover)
Alas, young man, my writing days are over;
Let boys play tricks, and kick the straw, not I;
Your brother doctor there, perhaps, may try.
What I dear Sir, the doctor interpofes;
What, plant my thiftle, Sir, among his rofes!

* The author, in expectation of an Epilogue from a friend at Oxford, deferred writing one himself till the very last hour. What is here offered, owes all it's fuccefs to the graceful manner of the actress who spoke it.

No,