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stables and repositories here in town, for a smart Sir Har. You seemed mad about her a little road nag, and a strong horse to carry a portman- while ago. She's a fine mare, and a thing of

shape and blood. Tom. Sir Roger Turf's horses are all to be Rus. Damn her blood !Harriot ! my dear sold—I'll see if there's ever a tight thing there-provoking Harriot! Where can she be? Have but I suppose, sir, you would have one somewhat you got any intelligence of her? stronger than Snip? I don't think he's quite Sir Har. No, faith, not I: we seem to be enough of a horse for your honour.

quite thrown out here—but, however, I have orSir Har. Not enough of a horse! Snip's a dered Tom to try if he can hear any thing of ber powerful gelding; master of two stone more among the ostlers. than my weight. If Snip stands sound, I would Rus. Why don't you inquire after her yournot take a hundred guineas for him. Poor Snip! self? why don't you run up and down the whole go into the stable, Tom; see they give him a town after her?

-t'other young rascal knows warm inash, and look at his heels and his eyes. where she is, I warrant you. What a plague it But where's Mr Russet all this while?

is to have a daughter! When one loves her to Tom. I left the 'squire at breakfast on a cold distraction, and has toiled and laboured to make pigeon-pye, and enquiring after madam Harriot her happy, the ungrateful slut will sooner go to in the kitchen. I'll let him know your honour hell her own way—but she shall have him-I would be glad to see him here.

will make her happy, if I break her heart for it. Sir Har. Ay, do: but hark'e, Tom, be sure -A provoking gipsy ! P-to run away, and toryou take care of Snip.

ment her poor father, that dotes on her! I'll Tom. I'll warrant your honour.

never see her face again.--Sic Harry, how can Sir Har. I'll be down in the stables myself we get any intelligence of her? Why don't you by and by. [Erit Tom. Let me see- -out speak? why don't you tell me !--Zounds ! you of the famous Tantwivy by. White Stockings; seem as indifferent as if you did not care a farthWhite Stockings his damn, föll sister to the Pros- ing about her. erpine Filly, and his sire-pox on't, how un- Sir Har. Indiffcrent ! you may well call me lucky it is, that this damned accident should hap- indifferent !--this damned chase after her will pen in the Newmarket week! ten to one I lose cost me a thousand------if it had not been for my match with lord Choakjade, by not riding her, I would not have been off the course this inyself, and I shall have no opportunity to hedge week, to have saved the lives of my whole family my betts neither- -what a damned piece of -I'll hold you six to two that-----work have I made on't! I have knocked up poor Rus. Zounds! hold your tongne, or talk more Snip, shall lose my match, and, as to Harriot, to the purpose-----I swear, she is too good for

the odds are, that I lose my match there, too-Your-you don't deserve such a wife---a fine, dear, a skittish young tit! If I once get her tight in sweet, lovely, charming girl !--She'll break my hand, I'll make her wince for it. Her estate heart.-----How shall I find her out?-----Do, joined to my own, I would have the finest stud, prithee, sir Harry, my dear honest friend, conand the nublest kennel in the whole country.- sider how we may discover where she is fled to. But here comes her father, puffing and blowing, Sir Har. Suppose you put

an advertisement like a broken-winded horse

up
hill.
into the news-papers

, describing her marks, ber

age, her height, and where she strayed from. I Enter Russet.

recovered a bay mare once by that method.

Rus. Advertise her! What ! describe my Ras. Well, sir Harry, have you heard any daughter and expose her in the public papers, thing of her?

with a reward for bringing her home, like horses Sir Har. Yes, I have been asking Tom about stolen or strayed !-----recovered a bay mare ! her, and he says, you may have her for five hun- the devil's in the fellow !------he thinks of nothing dred guineas.

but racers, and bay mares, and stallions.-Rus. Five hundred guineas ! how d’ye mean? | 'Sdeath I wish your----where is she? which way did she take?

Sir Har. I wish Harriot was fairly pounded; Sir Har. Why, first she went to Epsom, then it would save us both a deal of trouble. to Lincoln, then to Nottingham, and now she is Rus. Which way shall I turn myself?----| at York.

am half distracted.-----If I go to that young Rus. Impossible ! she could not go over half dog's house, he has certainly conveyed her somethe ground in the time. What the devil are you where out of my reach-----if she does not send talking of?

to me to day, I'll give her up for ever-----perSir Har. Oftlie mare you was just now say- haps, though, she may have met with some acing you wanted to buy.

cident, and has nobody to assist her.--- No, she Rus. The devil take the mare !_who would is certainly with that young rascal.---I wish she think of her, when I am mad about an affair of was dead, and I was dead---I'll blow young so much more consequence?

Oakly's brains out. VOL. II.

5 G

your honour.

town.

sit down. (They sit.] I longed to see you. It Enter Tom.

seemed an age till I had an opportunity of talkSir Har. Well, Tom, how is poor Snip? ing over the silly affair that happened this mornTom. A little better, sir, after his warm mash: ing.

(Mildly. but Lady, the pointing bitch that followed you Oak. Why, really, my dearall the way, is deadly foot-sore.

Mrs Oak. Nay, don't look so grave now. Rus. Damn Snip and Lady! have you heard Come—it's all over. Charles and you have any thing of Harriot?

cleared up matters. I am satisfied. Tom. Why I came on purpose to let my mas- Oak, Indeed! I rejoice to hear it! You make ter and your honour know, that John Ostler says me happy beyond my expectation. This dispo as how, just such a lady as I told him madam sition will insure our felicity. Do but lay aside Harriot was, came here in a four-wheel chaise, your cruel unjust suspicion, and we should never and was fetched away soon after by a fine lady have the least difference. in a chariot.

Mrs Oak. Indeed, I begin to think so. I'll enRus. Did she come alone?

deavour to get the better of it. And really someTom. Quite alone, only a servant-maid, please times it is very ridiculous. My uneasiness this

morning, for instance! ha, ha, ha! To be so Rus. And what part of the town did they go much alarmned about that idle letter, which turned to?

out quite another thing at last was not I very Tom. John Ostler says as how, they bid the angry with you? ha, ha, ha! (Affecting a laugh. coachman drive to Grosvenor-square.

Dak. Don't mention it. Let us both forget it. Sir Har. Soho! puss

Yoics !

Your present cheerfulness makes amends for Rus. She is certainly gone to that young every thing. rogue--he has got his aunt to fetch her from Nirs Oak. I am apt to be too violent: I love hence ----or else she is with her own aunt, lady you too well to be quite easy about you. (Fondly.] Freelove-----they both live in that part of the Well-no matter--what is become of Charles

I'll go to his house; and in the mean Oak. Poor fellow ! he is on the wing, rambling while, sir Harry, you shall step to lady Free- all over the town in pursuit of this young lady. love's. We'll find her, I warrant you. I'll teach Mrs Oak. Where is he gone, pray! my young mistress to be gadding. She shall

Oak. First of all, I believe, to some of her remarry you to-night. Come along, sir Harry, lations. come along; we won't lose a minute. Come Mrs Oak. Relations! Who are they? Where along,

do they live? Sir Har. Soho ! hark forward ! wind 'em Oak. There is an aunt of her's lives just in the and cross 'em! hack forward ! Yoics! Yoics ! neighbourhood; lady Freelove.

Ereunt.

Mrs Oak. Lady Freelove! Oho! gone to la

dy Freelove's, is he?-and do you think he will SCENE II.-Changes to OAKLY's. hear any thing of her?

Oak. I don't know; but I hope so with all my Enter Mrs OAKLY.

soul. Mrs Oak. After all, that letter was certainly Mrs Oak. Hope! with all your soul! do you intended for my husband. I see plain enough hope so ?

[Alarmed. they are all in a plot against me. My husband Oak. Hope so ! ye-yes-why, don't you hope intriguing, the major working him up to affrontso?

[Surprised. me, Charles owning his letters, and so playing Mrs Oak. Well-yes—[Recovering: 0 ay, into each other's hands.-----They think' me a to be sure. I hope it of all things. You know, fool, I find but I'll be too much for them my dear, it must give me great satisfaction, as yet.-- I have desired to speak with Mr Oak- well as yourself, to see Charles well settled. ly, and expect him here "immediately. His Oak. I should think so; and really I don't temper is naturally open; and if he thinks my know where he can be settled so well. She is a anger abated, and my suspicions laid asleep, he most deserving young woman, I assure you. will certainly betray himself by his behaviour. Mrs Oak. You are well acquainted with her, I'll assume an air of good-humour, pretend to then? believe the fine story they have trumped up, Oak. To be sure, my dear! after seeing her so

throw him off his guard, and so draw the secret often last summer at the major's house in the out of him. Here he comes.---How hard it is country, and at her father's. to dissemble one's anger! O, I could rate him Mrs Oak. So often! soundly! but I'll keep down my indignation at Vak. O ay, very often-Charles took care of present, though it chokes me.

that almost every day.

Mrs Oak. Indeed! But pray-ama-4-1 Enter OAKLY. say-ama

(Confused. O my dear! I am very glad to see you. Pray Oak. What do you say? my dear!

COLMAN.)

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Mrs Oak. I say-a-a-[Stammering.) Is she woman !—No place but my own house to serve handsoine?

your purposes? Oak. Prodigiously handsome indeed.

Oak. Lord, this is the strangest misapprehenMrs Oak. Prodigiously handsome! and is she sion! I am quite astonished. reckoned a sensible girl?

Mrs Oak. ` Astonished ! yes- -confused, deOak. A very sensible, modest, agreeable young | tected, betrayed by your vain confidence of imlady, as ever I knew. You would be extremely posing on me. Why, sure you imagine ine an fond of her, I am sure. You can't imagine how idiot, a driyeller. Charles, indeed! yes, Charles happy I was in her company. Poor Charles ! she is a fine excuse for you. The letter this mornsoon made a conquest of him; and no wonder: ing, the letter, Mr Oakly! she has so many elegant accomplishments ! such Oak. The letter! why, sure that

an infinite fund of cheerfulness and good hu- Mrs Oak. Is sufficiently explained. You have mour! Why, she's the darling of the whole coun- made it very clear to me. Now I am convinced. try.

I have no doubt of your pertidy. But I thank Mrs Oak. Lord ! you seem quite in raptures you for some hints you have given me, and you about her.

may be sure I shall make use of them : nor will Oak. Raptures ! not at all. I was only telling I rest, till I have full conviction, and overwhelm you the young lady's character. I thought you you with the strongest proof of your baseness towould be glad to find that Charles had made so wards me. sensible a choice, and was so likely to be happy. Oak. Nay, but

Mrs Oak. 0, Charles ! True, as you say, Mrs Oak. Go, go! I have no doubt of your Charles will be mighty happy.

falsehood :
: away!

[E.rit Mrs Oakly. Oak. Don't you think so?

Oak. Was there ever any thing like this? Such Mrs Oak. I am convinced of it. Poor Charles! unaccountable behaviour! angry I don't know I am much concerned for him. He must be very why ! jealous of I know not what! pretending to be uneasy about her. I was thinking whether we satisfied merely to draw me in, and then creating could be of any service to him in this affair. imaginary proofs out of an innocent conversa

Oak. Was you, my love? that is very good of tion !- Hints bints I have given her!you. Let me see? How can we manage it? Gad! What can she mean?I have hit it. The luckiest thought! and it will be of great service to Charles.

Toilet crossing the stage. Mrs Oak. Well, what is it? [Eagerly.]—You Toilet! where are you going? know I would do any thing to serve Charles, and Toilet. To order the porter to let in no comoblige you.

[Mildly. pany to my lady to-day. She won't see a single Oak. That is so kind! Lord, my dear, if you soul, sir.

(Erit Toilet. would but always consider things in this proper Oak. What an unhappy woman! Now will she light, and continue this amiable temper, we should sit all day feeding on her suspicions, till she has be the happiest people

convinced herself of the truth of them, Mrs Oak. I believe so: but what's your pro

John crossing the stage, Oak. I am sure you'll like it. Charles, you Well, sir, what's your business ? know, may perhaps be so lucky as to meet with John. Going to order the chariot, sir.—My lathis lady,

dy's going out immediately. [E.rit John. Mrs Oak. True.

Oak. Going out! what is all this? --But every Oak. Now, I was thinking, that he might,with way she makes me miserable.

Wild and ungoyour leave,

my
dear

vernable as the sea or the wind ! made up of Mrs Oak. Well!

storms and tempests! I can't bear it: and, one Oak. Bring her home here

way or other, I will put an end to it. [Exit. Mrs Oak. How !

Oak. Yes, bring her home here, my dear !-it SCENE III.-LADY FREELOVE's house. will inake poor Charles's mind quite easy: and you may take her under your protection till her

Enter Lady FREELOVE with a card Servant father comes to town.

following Mrs Oak. Amazing! this is even beyond my Lady Free. [Reading as she enters.] - And expectation.

• will take the liberty of waiting on her ladyship Oak. Why! - what!

en cavalier, as he comes from the menége.'Mrs Oak. Was there ever such assurance ! Does any body wait that brought this card? Take her under my protection! What! would Ser. Lord Trinket's servant is in the hall, mayou keep her under my nose?

dam. Oak. Nay, I never conceived—I thought you Lady Free. My compliments, and I shall be would have approved

glad to see his lordship.-Where is Miss Russet ? Mrs Oak. What! make me your convenient Ser. In her own chamber, madam.

posal

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e dignity

Lady Free. What is she doing?

have fine eyes, child! And they have made fine Ser. Writing, I believe, madam.

work with lord Trinket. Lady Free. Oh! ridiculous !-scribbling to that

Har. Lord 'Trinket! Contemptuously. Oakly, I suppose. [Apart.]-Let her know I Lady Free. Yes, lord Trinket: you know it should be glad of her company here.

as well as I do; and yet, you ill-natured thing,

[Exit Servant. you will not vouchsafe hiin a single smile. But It is a mighty troublesome thivg to manage a you must give the poor soul a little encourage simple girl, that knows nothing of the world. ment, prithee do. Harriot, like all other girls, is foolishly fond of Har. Indeed, I cannot, madam, for of all this young fellow of her own chusing, her first mankind Lord Trinket is my aversion. love, that is to say, the first man that is particu- Lady Free. Why so, child? He is counted a larly civil, and the first air of consequence which well-bred, sensible young fellow, and the women a young lady gives herself. Poor silly soul ! all think him handsome. But Oakly must not have her positively. A match Har. Yes, he is just polite enough to be able with lord Trinket will add to the of the to be very unmannerly with a great deal of good family. I must bring her into it. will throw breeding; is just handsome enough to make him her into his way as often as possible, and leave most excessively vain of his person; and has just him to make his party good as fast as he can reflection enough to finish him for a coxcomb; But here she comes.

qualifications, which are all very common a.

mong those whom your ladyship calls men of Enter Harrior.

quality. Well! Harriot, still in the pouts? nay, prithee, Łady Free. A satirist, too! Indeed, my dear, my dear little run-away girl, be more cheerful ! this affectation sits very awkwardly upon you.-. your everlasting melancholy puts me into the va- There will be a superiority in the behaviour of pours.

persons of fashion. Har. Dear madam, excuse nie. How can I be Har. A superiority, indeed! For his lordship cheerful in my present situation? I know my fa- alway behaves with so much insolent familiarity, ther's temper so well, that I am sure this step of that I should almost imagine he was soliciting mine must almost distraet him. I sometimes wish me for other favours, rather than to pass my that I had remained in the country, let what whole life with him. would have been the consequence.

Lady Free. Innocent freedoms, child, which Lady Free. Why, it is a naughty child, that's every fine woman expects to be taken with her, certain ; but it need not be so uneasy about pa- | as an acknowledgement of her beauty. pa, as you know that I wrote by last night's post, Har. They are freedoms, which, I think, no to acquaint him, that his little lost sheep was innocent woman can allow. safe, and that you are ready to obey his com- Lady Free, Romautic to the last degree ! mands in every particular, except marrying that Why, you are in the country still, Harriot! i oaf, sir Harry Beagle. Lord! Lord! what a difference there is between a country and town

Enter Servant. education! Why, a London lass would have Ser. My lord Trinket, madam. jumped out of a window into a gallant's arms,

[Erit Scruant. and without thinking of her father, unless it were Lady Free. I swear now I have a good mind to have drawn a few bills on hin, been an hun- to tell him all you have said. dred miles off in nine or ten hours, or perhaps Enter Lord Trinket in boots, &c. as from the out of the kingdom in twenty-four. Har. I fear I have already been too precipi

Riding-house. tate. I tremble for the consequences.

Your lordship's most obedient humble servant. Lady Free. I swear, child, you are a downright Lord Trink. Your ladyship does me too much prude. Your way of talking gives me the spleen; honour. Here I am en bottine as you see-just so full of affection, and duty, and virtue, 'tis just come from the menege. Miss Russet, I am your like a funeral sermon. And yet, pretty soul? it slave. I declare it makes me quite happy to find can Tove. Welt, I wonder at your taste; a sneak- you together. 'Pon honour, inadam, (To Haring simple gentleman! without a title ! and when, RioT.] I begin to conceive great hopes of you: to my knowledge, you might have a man of qua- and, as for you, Lady Freelove, I cannot suffility to-morrow.

ciently commend your assiduity with your fair Har. Perhaps so. Your ladyship must excuse pupil. She was before possessed of every grace me, but many a man of quality would make me that nature could bestow on her, and nobody is miserable.

so well qualified as your ladyship to give her the Lady Free. Indeed, my dear, these antedilu- Bon Ton. vian notions will vever do now-a-davs; and, at Har. Compliment and contempt all in a the same time, too, those little wicked eyes of breath! My lord, I am obliged to you. But was yours speak a very different language. Indeed you ving my acknowledgements, give me leave to ask

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your lordship, whether nature and the Bon Ton | and your brother, but tell me the news. Do you (as you call it) are so different, that we must give know any thing of my father? up one, in order to obtain the other?

Lord Trink. Your father, madam, is now in Lord Trink. Totally opposite, madam. The town. This fellow, you must know, is now groom chief aim of the Bon Ton is to render persons of (to sir Harry Beagle, your sweet rural swain, and family different from the vulgar, for whom, in- informed me, that his master and your father deed, nature serves very well. For this reason, were running all over the town in quest of you; It has, at various times, been ungenteel to see, to and that he himself had orders to enquire after hear, to walk, to be in good health, and to have you; for which reason, I suppose, he came to twenty other horrible perfections of nature. Na- \the riding-house stables to look after it, thinking ture, indeed, may do very well sometimes. It made it, to be sure, a very likely place to meet you. you, for instance, and it then made something Your father, perhaps, is gone to seek you at the very lovely; and if you would suffer us of quali- Tower, or Westminster-Abbey, which is all the ty to give you the Ton, you would be absolutely idea he has of London; and your faithful lover divine : but now-me-madam

is probably cheapening a bunter, and drinking nature never made such a thing as me,

strong beer at the Horse and Jockey in SmithHar. Why, indeed, I think your lordship has l' tield. very few obligations to her.

Ludy Free. The whole set admirably disposed Lord Trink. Then, you really think it's all my

of! own? I declare now that is a mighty genteel Har. Did not your lordship inform him where compliment. Nay, if you begin to flatter already, I was? you improve apace. 'Pon honour, lady Free- Lord Trink. Not I, ’pon honour, madąm:love, I believe we shall make something of her at that I left to their own ingenuity to discover, last.

Lady Free. And, pray, my lord, where, in this Lady Free. No doubt on't. It is in your town, have this polite company bestowed themlordship's power to make her a complete woman selves? of fashion at once.

Lord Trink. They lodge, madam, of all plaLord Trink. Hum! Why, ay

ces in the world, at the Bull and Gate Inn, in Har. Your lordship must excuse me.

I am of Holborn. a very tasteless disposition. I shall never bear Lady Free. Ha, ha, ha! The Bull and Gate ! to be carried out of nature.

Incomparable! What, have they brought any Lady Free. You are out of nature, now, Har- hay or cattle to town? riot ! I am sure no woman but yourself ever ob- Lord Trink. Very well, lady Freelove ! very jected to being carried among persons of quality. well, indeed! There they are, like so many graWould you believe it, my lord ? here has she ziers; and there, it seems, they have learned that been a whole week in town, and would never this lady is certainly in London. suffer me to introduce her tu a rout, an assem- Har. Do, dear madam, send a card directly bly, a concert, or even to court, or to the opera ; to my father, informing him where I am, and nay, would hardly so much as inix with a living that your ladyship would be glad to see him soul :hat has visited me.

here. For any part, I dare not venture into his Lord Trink. No wonder, madam, you do not presence till you have, in some measure, pacified adopt the manners of persons of fashion, when him; but, for Heaven's sake, desire him not io you will not even honour them with your compa- bring that wretched fellow along with him. ny. Were you to make one in our little cote- Lord Trink. Wretched fellow! Oho! Couries, we should soon make you sick of the boors rage, Milor Trinket!

Aside. and bumpkins of the horrid country. By the Lady Free. I'll send immediately. Who's there? bye, ! niet a monster at the riding-house this

Enter Servant. morning, who gave me some intelligence, that will surprize you, concerning your family? Ser. (Apart to LADY FREELove.] Sir Harry Har. What intelligence ?

Beagle is below, madam. Lady Free. Who was this monster, as your Lady Free. [Apart to Sercant.] I am not at lordship calls him? A curiosity, I dare say. home. Have they let bim in?

Lord Trink. This monster, madam, was for- Ser. Yes, madam. merly my head groom, and had the care of all Lady Free. How abominably unlucky this is ! my running-horses; but, growing most abominably Well, then, shew him into my dressing-room. I surly and extravagant, as you know all these fel | will come to him there. [Exit Servant. lows do, I turned him off; and, ever since, my Lord Trink. Lady Freelove! No engagement, brother, Slouch Trinket, has had the care of my I hope. We won't part with you, 'pon honour. stud, rides all my principal matches himself- Lady Free. The worst engagement in the and

world. A pair of musty old prudes ! Lady ForHar. Dear my lord, don't talk of your groom, mal and Miss Prate.

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