of quality are not tied down to the rules of those who have their fortunes to make. Man. No people, madaın, are above being tied down to some rules, that have fortunes to lose. Lady Grace. Pooh! I'm sure, if you were to take my side of the argument, you would be able to say something more for it. ly? Lord Town. Well, what say you to that, Man Man. That, I am afraid, we had best not depend upon. But, since you have had so much patience, my lord, even go on with it a day or two more; and, upon her ladyship's next sally, be a little rounder in your expostulations; if that don't work-drop her some cool hints of a determined reformation, and leave her-to breakfast upon them. Lord Town. You are perfectly right. How va Man. Why, troth, my lord, I have something|luable is a friend, in our anxiety! to say. Man. Therefore, to divert that, my lord, I beg, Lady Grace. Ay! that I should be glad to for the present, we may call another cause. hear, now. Lord Town. Out with it. Man. Then, in one word, this, my lord, I have often thought, that the misconduct of my lady has, in a great measure, been owing to your lordship's treatment of her. Lady Grace. Bless me! Lord Town. My treatment! Man. Ay, my lord; you so idolized her before marriage, that Lady Grace. Ay, for goodness' sake, let us have done with this. Lord Town. With all my heart. Lady Grace. Have you no news abroad, Mr Manly? Man. A propos-I have some, madam; and I believe, my lord, as extraordinary in its kind— Lord Town. Pray, let us have it. Man Do you know that your country-neighyou even indulged her like a mis-bour, and my wise kinsman, sir Francis Wrongtress after it in short, you continued the lover, head, is coming to town with his whole family? when you should have taken up the husband. Lord Town. The fool! What can be his business here? : Lady Grace. Oh, frightful! this is worse than t'other; can a husband love a wife too well? Man. As easy, madam, as a wife may love her husband too little. Lord Town. So; you two are never like to I find. agree, Lady Grace. Don't be positive, brother -I am afraid we are both of a mind already. [Aside.] And do you, at this rate, ever hope to be married, Mr Manly? Man. Never, madam, till I can meet with a woman that likes my doctrine. Lady Grace. 'Tis pity but your mistress should hear it. Man. Pity me, madam, when I marry the wo-merry before dinner, and overset the tea-table in man that won't hear it. making his compliments to my lady? Lady Grace. I think, at least, he can't say that's me. [Aside. Man. And so, my lord, by giving her more power than was needful, she has none where she wants it; having such entire possession of you, she is not mistress of herself. And, mercy on us! how many fine women's heads have been turned upon the same occasion! Man. The same. Lady Grace. Pray, what are his circumstances? I know but very little of him. Man. Then he is worth your knowing, I can tell you, madam. His estate, if clear, I believe, might be a good two thousand pounds a-year; though as it was left him, saddled with two jointures, and two weighty mortgages upon it, there is no saying what it is-But that he might be sure never to mend it, he married a profuse young hussy, for love, without a penny of money. Thus, having, like his brave ancestors, provided heirs for the family (for his dove breeds like a tame pigeon), he now finds children and interest-moMan. Well, my lord, to let you see I am some-ney making such a bawling about his ears, that, times upon the side of good nature, I won't absolutely blame you; for the greater your indulgence, the more you have to reproach her with. Lord Town. Oh, Manly, 'tis too true! there's the source of my disquiet; she knows, and has abused her power; nay, I am still so weak, (with shame I speak it) 'tis not an hour ago, that, in the midst of my impatience-I gave her another bill for five hundred to throw away." Lady Grace. Ay, Mr Manly, here now, I begin to come in with you. Who knows, my lord, but you may have a good account of your kindness? at last, he has taken the friendly advice of his kinsman, the good lord Danglecourt, to run his estate two thousand pounds more in debt, to put the whole management of what is left into Paul Pillage's hands, that he may be at leisure himself to retrieve his affairs, by being a parliament man. Lord Town. A most admirable scheme, in- | he's so near common sense, that he passes for a deed! wit in the family. Man. And, with this prolific prospect, he is now upon his journey to London Lord Town. What can it end in? Man. Pooh! A journey into the country again. Lord Town. Do you think he'll stir, till his money is gone; or, at least, till the session is over? Man. If my intelligence is right, my lord, he won't sit long enough to give his vote for a turnpike. Lord Town. How so? Man. Oh, a bitter business; he had scarce a vote in the whole town, beside the returning of ficer. Sir John will certainly have it at the bar of the house, and send him about his business again. Lord Town. Then he has made a fine business of it, indeed. Man. Which, as far as my little interest will go, shall be done in as few days as possible. Lady Grace. But why would you ruin the poor gentleman's fortune, Mr Manly? Man. No, madam; I would only spoil his project, to save his fortune. Lady Grace. How are you concerned enough to do either? Man. Why, I have some obligations to the family, madam: I enjoy, at this time, a pretty estate, which sir Francis was heir-at-law to: but, by his being a booby, the last will of an obstinate old uncle gave it to me. James. At our house, sir; he has been gaping and stumping about the streets in his dirty boots, and asking every one he meets, if they can tell him where he may have a good lodging for a parliament man, till he can hire a handsome house, fit for all his family, for the winter. Man. I am afraid, my lord, I must wait upon Mr Moody. Lord Town. Prithee, let us have him here; he will divert us. Man. Oh, my lord, he's such a cub! Not but Lady Grace. I beg, of all things, we may have him I am in love with nature, let her dress be never so homely. : Mun. Then desire him to come hither, James. [Exit JAMES. Lady Grace. Pray, what may be Mr Moody's post? Man. Oh! his maitre d'hotel, his butler, his bailiff, his hind, his huntsman, and sometimeshis companion. Lord Town. It runs in my head, that the moment this knight has set him down in the house, he will get up, to give them the earliest proof of what importance he is to the public, in his own country. Man. Yes; and, when they have heard him, he will find, that his utmost importance stands valued at sometimes being invited to dinner. Lady Grace. And her ladyship, I suppose, will make as considerable a figure in her sphere, too? Man. That you may depend upon: for (if I don't mistake) she has ten times more of the jade in her, than she yet knows of; and she will so improve in this rich soil in a month, that she will visit all the ladies that will let her into their houses; and run in debt to all the shop-keepers that will let her into their books: in short, before her important spouse has made five pounds by his eloquence at Westminster, she will have lost five hundred at dice and quadrille, in the pa rish of St James's. Lord Town. So that, by that time he is declared unduly elected, a swarm of duns will be ready for their money; and his worship-will be ready for a gaol. Man. Yes, yes; that, I reckon, will close the account of this hopeful journey to LondonBut see, here comes the fore-horse of the team. Enter JOHN MOODY. Oh, honest John! J. Moody. Ad's waunds and heart, Measter Manly! I'm glad I ha' fun ye. Lawd, lawd, give me a buss! Why, that's friendly, naw.Flesh! I thought we would never ha' got hither. Well, and how do you do, Measter?-Good lack! I beg pardon for my bawldness-I did not see 'at his honour was here. Lord Town. Mr Moody, your servant: I am glad to see you in London: I hope all the good family is well. J. Moody. Thanks be praised, your honour, they are all in pretty good heart; tho'f we have had a power of crosses upo' the road. Lady Grace. I hope my lady has had no hurt, Mr Moody? J. Moody. Noa, and please your ladyship, she was never in better humour: there's money enough stirring now. Man. What has been the matter, John? J. Moody. Why, we came up in such a hurry, you mun think, that our tackle was not so tight as it should be. Man. Come, tell us all-Pray, how do they travel? J. Moody. Why, i' the awld coach, measter; and, 'cause my lady loves to do things handsome, to be sure, she would have a couple of cart-horses clapt to the four old geldings, that neighbours might see she went up to London in her coach and six; and so Giles Joulter, the ploughman, rides postillion. Man. Very well! the journey sets out as it should do.-Aside.]-What, do they bring all the children with them, too? J. Moody. Noa, noa; only the younk 'squoire and Miss Jenny. The other foive are all out at board, at half-a-crown a-head a-week, with John Growse, at Smoke-dunghill farm. Man. Good again! a right English academy for young children! J. Moody. Anan, sir? [Not understanding him. Lady Grace. Poor souls! What will become of them? J. Moody. Nay, nay; for that matter, madam, they are in very good hands: Joan loves 'um as tho'f they were all her own: for she was wetnurse to every mother's babe of 'um-Ay, ay; they'll ne'er want for a belly-full there! Lady Grace. What simplicity! Man. The Lud 'a mercy upon all good folks! What work will these people make ! [Holding up his hands. Lord Town. And when do you expect them here, John? J. Moody. Why, we were in hopes to ha' come yesterday, an' it had no' been that th' awld Weazlebelly horse tired: and then we were so cruelly loaden, that the two fore-wheels came crash down at once, in Waggon-rut-lane, and there we lost four horses 'fore we could set things to right again. Man. So, they bring all the baggage with the coach, then? J. Moody. Ay, ay; and good store on it there is- -Why, my lady's geer alone were as much as filled four portmantel trunks, beside the great deal box that heavy Ralph and the monkey sit upon behind. so, they hoisted her into the coach-box, and then her stomach was easy. Lady Grace. Oh, I see them! I see them go by me. Ha, ha! [Laughing. J. Moody. Then you mun think, measter, there was some stowage for the belly, as well as the back, too; children are apt to be famished upon the road; so we had such cargoes of plumcake, and baskets of tongues, and biscuits, and cheese, and cold boiled beef-And, then, in case of sickness, bottles of cherry-brandy, plague water, sack, tent, and strong beer so plenty, as made the awld coach crack again. Mercy upon them! and send them all well to town, I say! Man. Aye, and well out of it again, John. J. Moody. Ods bud, measter! you're a wise man; and for that matter, so am I—Whoam's whoam, I say: I am sure we ha' got but little good e'er sin' we turned our backs on't. Nothing but mischief! Some devil's trick or other plagued us all aw the day lang. Crack, goes one thing! bawnce, goes another! Woa! says Roger-Then, sowse! we are all set fast in a slough. Whaw, cries miss! Scream, go the maids! and bawl, just as thof' they were stuck. And so, mercy on us! this was the trade from morning to night. But my lady was in such a murrain haste to be here, that set out she would, thof' I told her it was Childernas day. Man. These ladies, these ladies, John J. Moody. Ay, measter! I ha' seen a little of them and I find, that the best-when she's mended, won't ha' much goodness to spare. : Lord Town. Well said, John! Ha, ha! Man. I hope, at least, you and your good woman agree still? J. Moody. Ay, ay; much of a muchness.— Bridget sticks to me: though, as for her goodness -why, she was coming to London, too— But hauld a bit! Noa, noa, says I; there may be mischief enough done without you. Man. Why that was bravely spoken, John, and like a man. J. Moody. Ah, weast heart! were measter but hawf the mon that I am-Ods wookers! thof he'll speak stautly, too, sometimes--But then he canno' hawld it- -no, he canno' hawld it. Lord Town. J. Moody. Ods flesh! but I mun hie me whoam; the coach will be coming every hour naw -but measter charged me to find your worship out; for he has hugey business with you: and will certainly wait upon you by that time he can put on a clean neck-cloth. Man. Oh, John! I'll wait upon him. J. Moody. Why you wonno' be so kind, wull ye? Man. If you'll tell me where you lodge. 4N J. Moody. Well, measter———— Lord Town. My service to sir Francis, and my lady, John. Lady Grace. And mine, pray, Mr Moody. J. Moody. Aye, your honours;—they'll be proud on't, I dare say. Man. I'll bring my compliments myself: so, honest John J. Moody. Dear Measter Manly! the goodness of goodness bless and preserve you! [Exit J. MOODY. Lord Town. What a natural creature 'tis ! Lady Grace. Well, I can't but think John, in a wet afternoon in the country, must be very good company. Lord Town. Oh, the tramontane! If this were known at half the quadrille tables in town, they would lay down their cards to laugh at you. Lady Grace. And the minute they took them up again, they would do the same at the losersBut to let you see, that I think good company may sometimes want cards to keep them together; what think you, if we three sat soberly down to kill an hour at ombre? Man. I shall be too hard for you, madam. Lady Grace. No matter; I shall have as much advantage of my lord, as you have of me. Lord Town. Say you so, madam? have at you, then. Here! get the ombre table, and cards. [Erit LORD TOWNLY. -I know Lady Grace. Come, Mr Manly you don't forgive me now. Man. I don't know whether I ought to forgive your thinking so, madam. Where do you imagine I could pass my time so agreeably? Lady Grace. I'm sorry my lord is not here, to take his share of the compliment-But he'll wonder what's become of us. Man. I'll follow in a moment, madam [Exit LADY GRACE. It must be so-She sees I love her-yet with what unoffending decency she avoids an explanation? How amiable is every hour of her conduct! What a vile opinion have I had of the whole sex, for these ten years past, which this sensible creature has recovered in less than one! Such a companion, sure, might compensate all the irksome disappointments that pride, folly, and falsehood, ever gave me ! Could women regulate, like her, their lives, What halcyon days were in the gift of wives! Vain rovers, then, might envy what they hate; And only fools would mock the married state. [Exit. ACT II. SCENE I.-MRS MOTHERLY's house. Enter COUNT BASSET and MRS MOTHERLY. Count Bas. I TELL you there is not such a family in England for you. Do you think I would have gone out of your lodgings for any body that was not sure to make you easy for the winter? Moth. Nay, I see nothing against it, sir, but the gentleman's being a parliament-man; and when people may, as it were, think one impertinent, or be out of humour, you know, when a body comes to ask for one's own Count Bas. Pshaw! Prithee never trouble thy head: his pay is as good as the bank-Why, he has above two thousand a-year. Moth. Alas-a-day, that's nothing! your peo ple of ten thousand a-year have ten thousand things to do with it. Count Bas. Nay, if you are afraid of being out of your money, what do you think of going a little with me, Mrs Motherly? Moth. As how? Count Bas. Why, I have a game in my hand, in which, if you'll croup me, that is, help me to play it, you shall go five hundred to nothing. Moth. Say you so? Why, then, I go, sir—and now, pray let's see your game. Count Bas. Look you, in one word, my cards lie thus When I was down this summer at York, I happened to lodge in the same house with this knight's lady, that's now coming to lodge with you. upon the four aces, are liable, sometimes, you know, to have a wheel out of order; which, I confess, is so much my case at present, that my dapple greys are reduced to a pair of ambling chairmen. Now, if, with your assistance, I can whip up this young jade into a hackney-coach, I may chance, in a day or two after, to carry her, in my own chariot, en famille, to an opera. Now, what do you say to me? it. Moth. Why, I shall not sleep for thinking of But how will you prevent the family smokyour design? Count Bas. By renewing my addresses to the mother. Count Bas. Nay, if you won't have patience-ing Moth. One had need to have a good deal, I am sure, to hear you talk at this rate. Is this your way of making my poor niece, Myrtilla, easy? Count Bas. Death! I shall do it still, if the woman will but let me speak Moth. Had you not a letter from her this morning? is it Count Bas. I have it here in my pocket-this [Shews it, and puts it up again. Moth. Ay; but I don't find you have made any answer to it. Count Bas. How the devil can I, if you won't hear me? Moth. What! hear you talk of another woman! Count Bas. Oh, lud! Oh, lud! I tell you, I'll make her fortune- -Ounds, I'll marry her! Moth. A likely matter! If you would not do it when she was a maid, your stomach is not so sharp set now, I presume. Count Bas. Hey-day! why, your head begins to turn, my dear! The devil! you did not think I proposed to marry her myself? Moth. If you don't, who the devil do you think will marry her? Count Bas. Why, a fool Moth. Humph! there may be sense in thatCount Bas. Very good-one for t'other, then. If I can help her to a husband, why should you not come into my scheme of helping me to a wife? Moth. Your pardon, sir. Ay, ay; in an honourable affair, you know you may command me. But, pray, where is this blessed wife and husband to be had? Count Bas. Now, have a little patience-You must know then, that this country knight and his lady bring up in the coach with them their eldest son and a daughter, to teach them to wash their faces, and turn their toes out. Moth. Good Count Bas. The son is an unlicked whelp, about sixteen, just taken from school; and begins to hanker after every wench in the family: the daughter, much of the same age, a pert forward hussy, who, having eight thousand pounds left her by an old doting grandmother, seems to have a devilish mind to be doing in her way, too. Moth. And your design is to put her into business for life? Count Bas. Look you-in short, Mrs Motherly, we gentlemen, whose occasional chariots roll only Moth. And how will the daughter like that, think you? Count Bas. Very well own affair -whilst it covers her Moth. That's true-it must do- -but, as you say, one for t'other, sir; I stick to that-if you don't do my niece's business with the son, I'll blow you with the daughter, depend upon't. Count Bas. 'Tis a bet-pay as we go, I tell you, and the five hundred shall be staked in a third hand. Moth. That's honest-But here comes my niece. Shall we let her into the secret? Count Bas. Time enough; may be I may touch upon it. Enter MYRTILLA. Moth. So, niece, are all the rooms done out, and the beds sheeted? Myr. Yes, madam; but Mr Moody tells us, the lady always burns wax in her own chamber, and we have none in the house. Moth. Odso! then I must beg your pardon, Count; this is a busy time, you know. [Erit MRS MOTHERLY. Count Bas. Myrtilla, how dost thou do, child? Myr. As well as a losing gamester can. Count Bas. Why, what have lost? Myr. What I shall never recover; and, what's worse, you, that have won it, don't seem to be much the better for it. you Count Bas. Why, child, dost thou ever see any body overjoyed for winning a deep stake six months after 'tis over? Myr. Would I had never played for it! Count Bas. Psha! hang these melancholy thoughts! We may be friends still. Myr. Dull ones. Count Bas. Useful ones, perhaps suppose I should help thee to a good husband? Myr. I suppose you'll think any one good off your hands. enough, that will take me Count Bas. What do you think of the young country 'squire, the heir of the family that's coming to lodge here? Myr. How should I know what to think of him? Count Bas. Nay; I only give you the hint, child. It may be worth your while, at least, to |