it will be as fresh next day, too, as it was the first hour it entertained us. Lady Grace. Certainly that must be vastly pretty! as you have, I would make myself the happiest wife in the world, by being as sober as he. Lady Town. Oh, you wicked thing! how can you teaze one at this rate, when you know he is so very sober, that (except giving me money) there is not one thing in the world he can do to please me? And I, at the same time, partly by nature, and partly, perhaps, by keeping the best company, do, with my soul, love almost every thing he hates. I dote upon assemblies; my heart bounds at a ball; and at an opera-I expire. Then I love play to distraction; cards enchant me—and dice put me out of my little wits-Dear, dear hazard!-Oh, what a flow of spirits it gives one! Lady Town. Oh, there's no life like it! Why, t'other day, for example, when you dined abroad, my lord and I, after a pretty cheerful tête à tête meal, sat us down by the fire-side in an easy, indolent, pick-tooth way, for about a quarter of an hour, as if we had not thought of any other's being in the room- -At last, stretching himself, and yawning-My dear-says he- aw -you came home very late last night-Twas but just turned of two, says I-I was in bed-aw-by eleven, says he-So you are every night, says I-Do you never play at hazard, child? Well, says he, I am amazed you can sit up SO late-How can you be amazed, says I, at a thing that happens so often?-Upon which we entered into a conversation-and though this is a point has entertained us above fifty times already, we always find so many pretty new things to say upon it, that I believe in my soul it will last as long as we live. Lady Grace. But pray, in such sort of family dialogues, (though extremely well for passing the time) don't there, now and then, enter some little witty sort of bitterness? Lady Town. Oh, yes! which does not do amiss at all. A smart repartee, with a zest of recrimination at the head of it, makes the prettiest sherbet. Ay, ay, if we did not mix a little of the acid with it, a matrimonial society would be so luscious, that nothing but an old liquorish prude would be able to bear it. Lady Grace. Well-certainly you have the most elegant taste Lady Town. Though, to tell you the truth, my dear, I rather think we squeezed a little too much lemon into it this bout! for it grew so sour at last, that I think-I almost told him he was a fool-and he, again-talked something oddly ofturning me out of doors. Lady Grace. Oh, have a care of that! Lady Town. Nay, if he should, I may thank my own wise father for that Lady Grace. How so? Lady Town. Why-when my good lord first opened his honourable trenches before me, my unaccountable papa, in whose hands I then was, gave me up at discretion. mean? Lady Grace. How do you Lady Town. He said, the wives of this age were come to that pass, that he would not desire even his own daughter should be trusted with pin-money; so that, my whole train of separate inclinations are left entirely at the mercy of a husband's odd humours. Lady Grace. Why, that, indeed, is enough to make a woman of spirit look about her. Lady Town. Nay, but to be serious, my dear; what would you really have a woman do, in my case? Lady Grace. Why-if I had a sober husband, Lady Grace. Oh, never! I don't think it sits well upon women; there's something so masculine, so much the air of a rake in it. You see how it makes the men swear and curse; and when a woman is thrown into the same passionwhy Lady Town. That's very true; one is a little put to it, sometimes, not to make use of the same words to express it. Lady Grace. Well-and, upon ill luck, pray what words are you really forced to make use of? Lady Town. Why, upon a very hard case, indeed, when a sad wrong word is rising, just to one's tongue's end, I give a great gulp-and swallow it. Lady Grace. Well; and is not that enough to make you forswear play as long as you live? Lady Town. Oh, yes: I have forsworn it. Lady Grace. Seriously? Lady Town. Solemnly! a thousand times; but then one is constantly forsworn, Lady Grace. And how can you answer that? Lady Town. My dear, what we say, when we are losers, we look upon to be no more binding than a lover's oath, or a great man's promise. But I beg pardon, child; I should not lead you so far into the world; you are a prude, and design to live soberly. Lady Grace. Why, I confess, my nature and my education do, in a good degree, incline me that way. Lady Town. Well, how a woman of spirit (for you don't want that, child) can dream of living soberly, is to me inconceivable; for you will mar ry, I suppose? Lady Grace. I can't tell but I may. Lady Town. And won't you live in town? Lady Grace. Half the year, I should like it very well. Lady Town. My stars! and you would really live in London half the year, to be sober in it?' Lady Grace. Why not? Lady Town. Why can't you as well go and be sober in the country? Lady Grace. So I would-t'other half year. scheme of life would you form, now, for your summer and winter sober entertainments? Lady Grace. A scheme that, I think, might very well content us. Lady Town. Oh, of all things, let's hear it! Lady Grace. Why, in summer, I could pass my leisure hours in riding, in reading, walking by a canal, or sitting at the end of it under a great tree; in dressing, dining, chatting with an agreeable friend; perhaps, hearing a little music, taking a dish of tea, or a game of cards, soberly; managing my family, looking into its accounts, playing with my children, if I had any, or in a thousand other innocent amusements-soberly; and possibly, by these means, I might induce my husband to be as sober as myself— Lady Town. Well, my dear, thou art an astonishing creature! For sure such primitive antediluvian notions of life have not beeu in any head these thousand years- -Under a great tree! O, my soul!-But I beg we may have the sober town-scheme too-for I am charmed with the country one! Lady Grace. You shall, and I'll try to stick to my sobriety there too. Lady Town. Well, though I'm sure it will give me the vapours, I must hear it, however. Lady Grace. Why, then, for fear of your fainting, madam, I will first so far come into the fashion, that I would never be dressed out of it --but still it should be soberly: for I can't think it any disgrace to a woman of my private for tune, not to wear her lace as fine as the weddingsuit of a first duchess. Though there is one extravagance I would venture to come up to. Lady Town. Aye, now for it Lady Grace. I would every day be as clean as a bride. Lady Town. Why, the men say, that's a great step to be made one-Well, now you are drestPray, let's see to what purpose? Lady Grace. I would visit-that is, my real friends; but as little for form as possible. I would go to court; sometimes to an assembly, nay, play at quadrille soberly: I would see all the good plays; and, because 'tis the fashion, now and then an opera -but I would not expire there, for fear I should never go again: and, lastly, I can't say, but for curiosity, if I liked my company, I might be drawn in once to a masquerade; and this, I think, is as far as any wo-soberly. man can go Lady Town. Well, if it had not been for that last piece of sobriety, I was just going to call for some surfeit-water. Lady Grace. Why, don't you think, with the farther aid of breakfasting, dining, and taking the air, supping, sleeping, not to say a word of devotion, the four-and-twenty hours might roll over in a tolerable manner? Lady Town. Tolerable! Deplorable! Why, child, all you propose is but to endure life; now, I want to enjoy it. Enter MRS TRUSTY. Trust. Madam, your ladyship's chair is ready. Lady Town. Have the footmen their white flambeaux yet? For, last night, I was poisoned. Trust. Yes, madam; there were some come in this morning. [Exit TRUSTY. Lady Town. My dear, you will excuse me; but you know my time is so preciousLady Grace. That I beg I may not hinder your least enjoyment of it. Lady Town. You will call on me at lady Revel's? Lady Grace. Certainly. Lady Town. But I am so afraid it will break into your scheme, my dear! Lady Grace. When it does, I will-soberly break from you. Lady Town. Why then, 'till we meet again, dear sister, I wish you all tolerable happiness. [Exit LADY TOWNLY. Lady Grace. There she goes-Dash! into her stream of pleasures! Poor woman! she is really a fine creature; and sometimes infinitely agreeable; nay, take her out of the madness of this town, rational in her notions, and easy to live with: but she is so borne down by this torrent of vanity in vogue, she thinks every hour of her life is lost that she does not lead at the head of it. What it will end in, I tremble to imagine !Ha, my brother! and Manly with him? I guess what they have been talking of—————I shall hear it in my turn, I suppose; but it won't become me to be inquisitive. [Exit LADY GRACE. Enter LORD TOWNLY and MANLY. Lord Town. I did not think my lady Wronghead had such a notable brain: though I can't say she was so very wise, in trusting this silly girl, you call Myrtilla, with the secret. Man. No, my lord, you mistake me; had the girl been in the secret, perhaps I had never come at it myself. Lord Town. Why, I thought you said this girl writ this letter to you, and that my lady Wronghead sent it inclosed to my sister? Man. If you please to give me leave, my lord -the fact is thus-This inclosed letter to lady Grace was a real original one, written by this girl to the count we have been talking of: the count drops it, and my lady Wronghead finds it: then, only changing the cover, she seals it up as a letter of business, just written by herself, to me: and, pretending to be in a hurry, gets this innocent girl to write the direction for her. Lord Town. Oh, then, the girl did not know she was superscribing a billet-doux of her own to you? Man. No, my lord; for when I first question ed her about the direction, she owned it imme- | diately; but, when I shewed her that her letter to the count was within it, and told her how it came into my hands, the poor creature was amazed, and thought herself betrayed both by the count and my lady-In short, upon this discovery, the girl and I grew so gracious, that she has let me into some transactions, in my lady Wronghead's family, which, with my having a careful eye over them, may prevent the ruin of it. Lord Town. You are very generous, to be solicitous for a lady that has given you so much uneasiness. Man. But I will be most unmercifully revenged of her; for I will do her the greatest friendship in the world—against her will. Lord Town. What an uncommon philosophy art thou master of, to make even thy malice a virtue ! Man. Yet, my lord, I assure you, there is no one action of my life gives me more pleasure than your approbation of it. Lord Town. Dear Charles! my heart's impatient 'till thou art nearer to me! and, as a proof that I have long wished thee so, while your daily conduct has chosen rather to descrve than ask my sister's favour, I have been as secretly industrious to make her sensible of your merit: and since, on this occasion, you have opened your whole heart to me, 'tis now, with equal pleasure, I assure you, we have both succeeded—she is as firmly yours Man. Impossible! you flatter me! Lord Town. I'm glad you think it flattery: but she herself shall prove it none: she dines with us alone: when the servants are withdrawn, I'll open a conversation, that shall excuse my leaving you together-Oh, Charles! had I, like thee, been cautious in my choice, what melancholy hours had this heart abided! Man. No more of that, I beg, my lord Lord Town. But 'twill, at least, be some relief to my anxiety, however barren of content the state has been to me, to see so near a friend and sister happy in it. Your harmony of life will be an instance how much the choice of temper is preferable to beauty. While your soft hours in mutual kindness move, You'll reach, by virtue, what I lost by love. [Exeunt. ACT IV. SCENE I.-MRS MOTHERLY's house. Enter MRS MOTHERLY, meeting MYRTILLA. Moth. So, niece! where is it possible you can have been these six hours? Myr. Oh, madam! I have such a terrible story to tell you. Moth. A story! Ods my life! What have you done with the count's note of five hundred pounds, I sent you about? Is it safe? Is it good? Is it security? Myr. Yes, yes, it is safe: but for its goodness Mercy on us! 1 have been in a fair way to be hanged about it! Moth. The dickens! has the rogue of a count played us another trick, then? Myr. You shall hear, madam. When I came to Mr Cash, the banker's, and shewed him his note for five hundred pounds, payable to the count, or order, in two months- -he looked earnestly upon it, and desired me to step into the inner room, while he examined his books-after I had stayed about ten minutes, he came in to me-claps to the door, and charges me with a constable for forgery. off? Moth. Ah, poor soul! and how didst thou get Myr. While I was ready to sink in this condition, I begged him to have a little patience, 'till I could send for Mr Manly, whom he knew to be a gentlemen of worth and honour, and who, I was sure, would convince him, whatever fraud might be in the note, that I was myself an innocent abused woman--and, as good luck would have it, in less than half an hour, Mr Manly came-so, without mincing the matter, I fairly told him upon what design the count had lodged that note in your hands, and, in short, laid open the whole scheme he had drawn us into, to make our fortune. Moth. The devil you did! Myr. Why, how do you think it was possible I could any otherwise make Mr Manly my friend, to help me out of the scrape I was in? To conclude, he soon made Mr Cash easy, and sent away the constable: nay, farther, he promised me, if I would trust the note in his hands, be would take care it should be fully paid before it was due, and, at the same time, would give me an ample revenge upon the count; so that, all you have to consider now, madam, is, whether you think yourself safer in the count's hands, or Mr Manly's. Moth. Nay, nay, child; there is no choice in the matter! Mr Manly may be a friend, indeed, if any thing in our power can make him so. Myr. Well, madam, and now, pray, how stand matters at home here? What has the count done with the ladies? Moth. Why, every thing he has a mind to do, by this time, I suppose. He is in high favour with miss, as he is with my lady. Myr. Pray, where are the ladies? and the well-bred count along with them: they have been scouring all the shops in town over, buying fine things and new clothes from morning to night: they have made one voyage already, and have brought home such a cargo of bawbles and trumpery-Mercy on the poor man that's to pay for them! Myr. Did not the young 'squire go with them? Moth. No, no; miss said, truly he would but disgrace their party so they even left him asleep by the kitchen fire. Myr. Has not he asked after me all this while? for I had a sort of an assignation with him. Moth. Oh, yes; he has been in a bitter taking about it. At last, his disappointment grew so uneasy, that he fairly fell a crying; so, to quiet him, I sent one of the maids and John Moody abroad with him, to shew him the lions, and the monument, Ods me! there he is just come home again-You may have business with him so I'll even turn you together. [Exit MOTH. Myr. Well, and pray what have you seen, sir? Squire Rich. Flesh! I cawnt tell, not I—seen every thing, I think. First, there we went o' top o' the what-d'ye-call-it? there, the great huge stone post, up the rawnd and rawnd stairs, that twine and twine about just an as thof it was a cork-screw. Myr. Oh, the monument; well, and was it not a fine sight from the top of it? Myr. Well, master, when you and I go abroad, I'll shew you prettier sights than these-there's a masquerade to-morrow. Squire Rich. Oh, laud, ay! they say that's a pure thing for Merry Andrews, and those sort of comical mummers-and the count tells me, that there lads and lasses may jig their tails, and eat, and drink, without grudging, all night lung. Myr. What would you say now, if I should get you a ticket, and go along with you? Squire Rich. Ah, dear! Myr. But have a care, 'squire; the fine ladies there are terribly tempting; look well to your heart, or, ads me! they'll whip it up in the trip of a minute. Squire Rich. Ay, but they cawnt thoa-soa let 'um look to themselves, an' ony of 'um falls in love with me-mayhap they had as good be quiet. Myr. Why, sure you would not refuse a fine lady, would you? Squire Rich. Ay, but I would though, unless it were-one as I know of. Myr. Oh, oh! then you have left your heart in the country, I find! Squire Rich. Noa, noa, my heart-eh—my heart e'nt awt o' this room. Myr. I am glad you have it about you, however. Squire Rich. Nay, mayhap not soa, noather; somebody else may have it, 'at you little think of. Myr. I can't imagine what you mean! Squire Rich. Noa! why doan't you know how many folks there is in this room, naw? Myr. Very fine, master; I see you have learnt the town gallantry already. Squire Rich. Why, doan't you believe 'at I have a kindness for you, then? Myr. Fy, fy, master, how you talk! beside, you are too young to think of a wife. Squire Rich. Ay! but I caunt help thinking you, for all that. Myr. How! why sure, sir, you don't pretend to think of me in a dishonourable way? Squire Rich. Sight, miss! I know no'-I saw nought but smoak and brick housen, and steeple tops- -then there was such a mortal ting-o' tang of bells, and rumbling of carts and coaches; and then the folks under one looked so small, and made such a hum, and a buz, it put me in mind of my mother's great glass bee-hive in our garden in the country. Myr. I think, master, you give a very good account of it. Squire Rich. Ay; but I did not like it: for my head-my head-began to turn-so, I trundled me down stairs agen, like a round trencher. Myr. Well, but this was not all you saw, I suppose? Squire Rich. Noa, noa; we went, after that, and saw the lions, and I liked them better by hawlf; they are pure grim devils; hoh, hoh! I touke a stick, and gave oue of them such a poke o' the noase-I believe he would ha' snapt my VOL. II. Squire Rich. Nay, that's as you see good-I did no' think 'at you would ha' thowght of me for a husband, mayhap; unless I had means in my own hands; and feyther allows me but haulf a crown a-week, as yet awhile. Myr. Oh, when I like any body, 'tis not want of money will make me refuse them. Squire Rich. Well, that's just my mind now; for an I like a girl, miss, I would take her in her smock. Myr. Ay, master, now you speak like a man of honour; this shews something of a true heart in you. Squire Rich. Ay, and a true heart you'll find me, try when you will. 4 P Myr. Hush, hush, here's your papa come home, and my aunt with him. Squire Rich. A devil rive 'em! what do they come naw for? Myr. When you and I get to the masquerade, you shall see what I'll say to you. Squire Rich. Well, hands upon't, then- Squire Rich. One buss, and a bargain. [Kisses her.] Ads wauntlikins! as soft and plump as a marrow-pudding. [Exeunt severally. Enter SIR FRANCIS WRONGHEAD, and MRS MOTHERLY. Sir Fran. What! my wife and daughter abroad, say you? Moth. Oh, dear sir, they have been mighty busy all the day long; they just came home to snap up a short dinner, and so went out again. Sir Fran. Well, well; I shan't stay supper for them, I can tell them that: for, ods-heart, I have nothing in me but a toast and tankard since morning. Moth. I am afraid, sir, these late parliament hours won't agree with you. Sir Fran. Why, truly, Mrs Motherly, they don't do right with us country gentlemen; to lose one meal out of three, is a hard tax upon a good stomach. Moth. It is so, indeed, sir. Sir Fran. But howsomever, Mrs Motherly, when we consider, that what we suffer is for the good of our country Moth. Why, truly, sir, that is something. Sir Fran. Oh, there's a great deal to be said for't-the good of one's country is above all things-A true-hearted Englishman thinks nothing too much for it—I have heard of some honest gentlemen so very zealous, that, for the good of their country-they would sometimes go to dinner at midnight. Moth. Oh, that goodness of them! sure their country must have a vast esteem for them! Sir Fran. So they have, Mrs Motherly; they are so respected when they come home to their boroughs after a session, and so beloved-that their country will come and dine with them every day in the week. Moth. Dear me! What a fine thing 'tis to be so populous! Sir Fran. It is a great comfort, indeed! and, I can assure you, you are a good sensible woman, Mrs Motherly. Moth. Oh, dear sir, your honour's pleased to compliment! Sir Fran. No, no; I see you know how to value people of consequence. Moth. Good lack! here's company, sir. Will you give me leave to get you a little something till the ladies come home, sir? Sir Fran. Why, troth, I don't think it would be amiss. Moth. It shall be done in a moment, sir. [Exit MOTHERLY. Enter MANLY. Man. Sir Francis, your servant. Man. I am come to see how the family goes on here. Sir Fran. Troth! all as busy as bees. I have been upon the wing ever since eight o'clock this morning! Man. By your early hour, then, I suppose you have been making your court to some of the great men. Sir Fran. Why, faith! you have hit it, sir———— I was advised to lose no time: so I went e'en straight forward to one great man I had never seen in my life before. Man. Right! that was doing business: but who had you got to introduce you? Sir Fran. Why, nobody- -I remember I had heard a wise man say-My son, be bold—so, troth, I introduced myself! Man. As how, pray? -Please Sir Fran. Why, thus--Look yeyour lordship, says I, I am sir Francis Wronghead, of Bumper-hall, and member of parliament for the borough of Guzzledown—Sir, your humble servant, says my lord; thof I have not the honour to know your person, I have heard you are a very honest gentleman, and I am glad your borough has made choice of so worthy a representative; and so, says he, Sir Francis, have you any service to command me? Naw, cousin, those last words, you may be sure, gave me no small encouragement. And thof I know, sir, you have no extraordinary opinion of my parts, | yet, I believe, you won't say I mist it naw! Man. Well, I hope I shall have no cause. Sir Fran. So, when I found him so courteous -My lord, says I, I did not think to ha' troubled your lordship with business upon my first visit; but, since your lordship is pleased not to stand upon ceremony,-why truly, says I, I think naw is as good as another time. Man. Right! there you pushed him home. Sir Fran. Ay, ay; I had a mind to let him see that I was none of your mealy-mouthed ones. Man. Very good. Sir Fran. So, in short, my lord, says I, I have a good estate-- -but-a-it's a little awt at elbows: and, as I desire to serve my king, as well as my country, I shall be very willing to accept of a place at court. Man. So, this was making short work on't. Sir Fran. I'cod! I shot him flying, cousin! some of your hawf-witted ones, naw, “would ba' hummed and hawed, and dangled a month or two after him, before they durst open their mouths about a place, and, mayhap, not ha' got it at last neither. |