Olivia. A story! when I'm all impatience to be away. Was there ever such a dilatory creature!

Jarvis. Well, madam, if we must march, why, we will march, that's all.-Though, odds bobs, we have still forgot one thing we should never travel withouta case of good razors, and a box of shaving-powder.But no matter, I believe we shall be pretty well shaved by the way. [Going.

Enter GARNET.

Gar. Undone, undone, madam, Ah, Mr. Jarvis, you said right enough. As sure as death, Mr Honeywood's rogue of a drunken butler dropped the letter, before he went ten yards from the door. There's old Croaker has just picked it up, and is this moment reading it to himself in the hall.

Olivia. Unfortunate! we shall be discovered. Gar. No, madam, don't be uneasy, he can make neither head nor tail of it. To be sure he looks as if he was broke loose from Bedlam about it, but he can't find what it means, for all that. O lud, he is coming this way all in the horrors!

Olivia. Then let us leave the house, this instant, for fear he should ask farther questions. In the mean time, Garnet, do you write and send off, just such another. [Exeunt.

Enter CROAKER.

Croak. Death and destruction! Are all the horrors of air, fire, and water, to be levelled only at me! Am I only to be singled out for gunpowder-plots, combustibles, and conflagration!Here it is-An incendiary letter dropped at my door. To Mustur Croaker, these with speed. Ay, ay, plain enough the direction; all in the genuine incendiary spelling, and as cramp as the devil. With speed. O, confound your speed. But let me read it once more. [Reads.]

Mustur Croakar, as sone as yoew see this leve twenty gunnes at the bar of the Talboot tell caled for or yowe and yower experetion will be al blown up. Ah! but too plain. Blood and gunpowder in every line of it. Blown up!-murderous dogs!-All blown up! Heavens! what have I and my poor family done, to be all blown up? [Reads.] Our pockets are low, and money we must have. Ay, there's the reason; they'll blow us up, because they have got low pockets. [Reads.] It is but a short time you have to consider; for if this takes wind, the house will quickly be all of a flame. Inhuman monsters! blow us up, and then burn us! The earthquake at Lisbon was but a bonfire to it. [Reads.] Make quick despatch, and so no more at present. But may Cupid, the little god of love, go with you, wherever you go. The little god of love! Cupid, the little god of love go with me! Go you to the devil, you and your little Cupid together! I'm so frightened, I scarce know whether I sit, stand, or go. Perhaps this moment I'm treading on lighted matches, blazing brimstone, and barrels of gunpowder! They are preparing to blow me up into the clouds! Murder! we shall be all burnt in our beds! We shall be all burnt in our beds!

Enter MISS RICHLAND.

Miss R. Lord, sir, what's the matter?

Croak. Murder's the matter-We shall be all blown up in our beds before morning.

Miss R. I hope not, sir.

Croak. What signifies what you hope, madam, when I have a certificate of it here in my hand. Will nothing alarm my family? Sleeping and eating, sleeping and eating is the only work from morning till night in my house. My insensible crew could sleep, though rocked by an earthquake; and fry beef. steaks at a volcano.

Miss R. But, sir, you have alarmed them so often.

already! we have nothing but earthquakes, famines, plagues, and mad dogs, from year's end, to year's end. You remember, sir, it is not above a month ago, you assured us of a conspiracy among the bakers, to poison us in our bread; and so kept the whole family a week upon potatoes.

Croak. And potatoes were too good for them.But why do I stand talking here with a girl, when I should be facing the enemy, without? Here, John, Nicodemus, search the house! Look into the cellars, to see if there be any combustibles below; and above, in the apartments, that no matches be thrown in at the windows-Let all the fires be put out, and let the engine be drawn out in the yard, to play upon the house in case of necessity. [Exit.

Miss R. What can he mean by all this? Yet, why should I inquire, when he alarms us in this manner, almost every day? But Honeywood has desired an interview with me in private. What can he mean? or, rather, what means this palpitation at his ap proach? It is the first time he ever showed any thing in his conduct, that seemed particular. Sure he cannot mean to--but he's here.

Enter HONEYWOOD.

Mr. H. I presumed to solicit this interview, madam, before I left town, to be permitted

Miss R. Indeed! leaving town, sir?

Mr. H. Yes, madam, perhaps the kingdom. have presumed, I say, to desire the favour of this interview-in order to disclose something, which our long friendship prompts. And yet my fears――

Miss R. We have, indeed, been long acquainted, sir ;-very long. If I remember, our first meeting was at the French ambassador's.-Do you recollect how you were pleased to rally me upon my complexion there?

Mr. H. Perfectly, madam; I presumed to reprove

you for painting: but your warmer blushes soon convinced the company, that the colouring was all from

nature.

Miss R. And yet, you only meant it in your goodnatured way, to make me pay a compliment to myself. In the same manner, you danced that night with the most awkward woman in company, because you saw no one else would take her out.

Mr. H. Yes; and was rewarded the next night by dancing with the finest woman in company, whom every body wished to take out.

Miss R. Well, sir, if you thought so then, I fear your judgment has since corrected the errors of a first impression. We generally show to most advantage at first. Our sex are like poor tradesmen, that put all their best goods to be seen at the windows.

Mr. H. The first impression, madam, did, indeed, deceive me. I expected to find a woman with all the faults of conscious, flattered beauty. I expected to find her vain and insolent; But every day has since taught me, that, it is possible to possess sense without pride, and beauty without affectation.

Miss R. This, sir, is a style very unusual with Mr. Honeywood; and I should be glad to know why he thus attempts to increase that vanity, which his own lessons have taught me to despise.

Mr. H. I ask your pardon, madam; Yet, from our long friendship, I presumed I might have some right to offer, without offence, what you may refuse without offending.

Miss R. Sir! I beg you'd reflect; though, I fear, I shall scarce have any power to refuse a request of yours, yet you may be precipitate-consider, sir.

Mr. H. I own my rashness; but, as I plead the cause of friendship, of one who loves-Don't be alarmed, madam-Who loves you with the most ardent passion-whose whole happiness is placed in

you

G

Miss R. I fear, sir, I shall never find whom you mean, by this description of him.

Mr. H. Ah, madam, it but too plainly points him out! though he should be too humble himself to urge his pretensions, or you too modest to understand

them.

Miss R. Well; it would be affectation any longer to pretend ignorance; and, I will own, sir, I have long been prejudiced in his favour. It was but natural, to wish to make his heart mine, as he seemed himself ignorant of its value.

Mr. H. I see she always loved him. [Aside.] I find, madam, you're already sensible of his worth-his passion. How happy is my friend, to be the favourite of one, with such sense to distinguish merit, and such beauty to reward it.

Miss R. Your friend, sir! What friend?

Mr. H. My best friend,-My friend Mr. Lofty, madam.

Miss R. He, sir ?

Mr. H. Yes, he, madam. He is, indeed, what your warmest wishes might have formed him. And to his other qualities, he adds that of the most passionate regard for you.

Miss R. Amazement !—no more of this, I beg you, sir.

Mr. H. I see your confusion, madam, and know how to interpret it. And since I so plainly read the language of your heart, shall I make my friend happy, by communicating your sentiments?

Miss R. By no means.

Mr. H. Excuse me, I must: I know you desire it. Miss R. Mr. Honeywood, let me tell you, that you wrong my sentiments, and yourself. When I first applied to your friendship, I expected advice and assistance; but now, sir, I see that it is vain to expect happiness from him, who has been so bad an econo