we'll there clear up the affair before the whole company.

Tor. [Speaking apart to LEESON and CoN.]This gentleman's letter has already cleared it up to my entire satisfaction; and I don't know whether I am most pleased with his wit, or charmed with his probity. However, Mr Leeson, I used the bailiffs sadly. Bailiffs are generally sad fellows to be sure; but we must love justice for our own sakes.

Lee. Unquestionably, sir; and they shall be amply recompensed for the merit of their sufferings.

Con. And the merit of suffering, I fancy, is the only merit that is ever likely to fall to the share of a sheriff's officer.

Tor. One word-one word more, Mr Leeson. I have inquired your character, and like itlike it much. Forgive the forwardness of an old man. You must not want money-you must not, indeed

Lee. Sir

Tor. Pray don't be offended-I mean to give my friends but little trouble about my affairs when I am gone. I love to see the people happy that my fortune is to make so; and shall think it a treason against humanity to leave a shilling more than the bare expences of my funeral. Breakfast with me in the morning.

Lee. You overwhelm me with this generosity; but a happy revolution in my fortunes, which you will soon know, renders it wholly unnecessary for me to trouble you.

Lee. My blessed aunt! O, how proud I am of the relation!

Gen. Sav. Dear Bab, give me quarter before all this company.

Mrs Tem. You are in love, you old fool, are you? and you want to marry Miss Walsingham, indeed!

Con. I never heard a pleasanter spoken gentlewoman- -O honey, if I had the taming of her, she should never be abusive, without keeping a civil tongue in her head.

Mrs Tem. Well, sir, and when is the happy day to be fixed?

Bel. What the devil, is this true, general? Gen. True-Can you believe such an absurdity?

Mrs Tem. Why, will you deny, you miserable old mummy, that you made proposals of marriage to her?

Gen. Sav. Yes I do-no, I don't-proposals of marriage!

Miss Wal. In favour of your son-I'll help [Aside. Gen. Sav. Yes, in favour of my sonwhat the devil shall I do?

ham.

Miss Wal. A compliment from you, now, Mr Belville, is really worth accepting.

Gen. Suv. If I thought the affair could be kept a secret, by making the town over to my son, since I am utterly shut out myself

Capt. Sav. He seems exceedingly embarrassed.

Gen. Sav. If I thought that—why, mortified as I must be in giving it up, I think I could resolve upon the manoeuvre, to save myself from universal ridicule: but it can't be; it can't be; and I only double my own disappointment in rewarding the disobedience of the rascal who has supplanted me. There! there! they are all talking of it, all laughing at me, and I shall run mad.

Mrs Bel. Shall I take a lesson from this lady, Mr Belville? Perhaps, if the women of virtue were to pluck up a little spirit, they might be soon as well treated as kept mistresses.

Mrs Temp. Hark'e, general Savage, I believe you assert a falsehood; but if you speak the truth, give your son this moment to Miss Walsingham, and let me be fairly rid of my rival. Gen. Sav. My son! Miss Walsingham! Miss Walsingham, my son!

Bel. It will do, Horace; it will do.

Mrs Tem. No prevarications, general Savage! Do what I bid you instantly, or, by all the wrongs of an enraged woman, I'll so expose you!

Con. What a fine fellow this is to have the command of an army!

Gen. Sav. If Miss Walsingham can be prevailed upon

Tor. O, she'll oblige you readily--but you must settle a good fortune upon your son. Mrs Tem. That he shall do.

Mrs Bel. Miss Walsingham, my dearMiss Wal. I can refuse nothing either to your request, or to the request of the general.

Gen. Sav. Oblige me with your hand, then, ma

Gen. Sav. And without any great credit, I fear, to the general.

Con. By my soul, you may say that! Mrs Tem. Do you murmur, sir? Come this moment home with me.

Gen. Sao. I'll go any where to hide this miserable head of mine: what a damned campaign have I made of it!

[Exeunt GENERAL SAVAGE and MRS

TEMPEST. Con. Upon my soul, if I was in the general's place, I would divide the house with this devil; I would keep within doors myself, and make her take the outside.

Lady Rach. Here's more food for a comedy.

Lee. So there is, madam; and Mr Torrington, to whose goodness I am infinitely obliged, could tell you some diverting anecdotes, that would enrich a comedy considerably.

Con. Ay, faith, and a tragedy, too!

Tor. I can tell nothing but what will redond to the credit of your character, young man.

Bel. The day has been a busy one, thanks to the communicative disposition of the captain.

Mrs Bel. And the evening should be cheerful. Bel. I shan't, therefore, part with one of you, till we have had a hearty laugh at our general adventures.

Miss Wal. They have been very whimsical, indeed; yet, if represented on the stage, I hope they would be found not only entertaining, but instructive.

Lady Rach. Instructive! why the modern critics say, that the only business of comedy is to make people laugh,

Bel. That is degrading the dignity of letters exceedingly, as well as lessening the utility of the stage. A good comedy is a capital effort of genius, and should, therefore, be directed to the noblest purposes.

Miss Wal. Very true; and unless we learn something while we chuckle, the carpenter, who nails a pantomime together, will be entitled to more applause, than the best comic poet in the kingdom. [Exeunt omnes,

SCENE I.-A street in Bath.

Coachman crosses the stage-Enter FAG, looking after him.

Fag. WHAT! Thomas! Sure 'tis he?-What! Thomas! Thomas!

Coach. Hey! Odds life! Mr Fag! give us your hand, my old fellow-servant.

Fag. Excuse my glove, Thomas!--I'm devilish glad to see you, my lad: why, my prince of charioteers, you look as hearty!-But who the deuce thought of seeing you in Bath!

Coach. Sure, master, Madam Julia, Harry, Mrs Kate, and the postillion, be all come. Fag. Indeed!

Coach. Ay! Master thought another fit of the gout was coming to make him a visit; so he'd a

mind to gi't the slip, and whip! we were all off at an hour's warning.

Fag. Ay, ay! hasty in every thing, or it would not be sir Anthony Absolute.

Coach. But tell us, Mr Fag, how does young master? Odd! sir Anthony will stare to see the captain here!

Fag. I do not serve captain Absolute now.
Coach. Why, sure!

Fag. At present I am employed by ensign Beverley.

Coach. I doubt, Mr Fag, you ha'n't changed for the better.

Fag. I have not changed, Thomas.

Coach. No! why, didn't you say you had left young master!

Fag. No. Well, honest Thomas, I must puzzle

son.

Coach. The devil they are!

Fag. So it is indeed, Thomas; and the ensign-half of my master being on guard at present-the captain has nothing to do with me. Coach. So, so! what, this is some freak, I warrant! Do tell us, Mr Fag, the meaning o'tyou know I ha' trusted you.

Fag. You'll be secret, Thomas?
Coach. As a coach-horse.

Fag. Why, then, the cause of all this islove-love,Thomas, who (as you may get read to you) has been a masquerader ever since the days of Jupiter.

Coach. Ay, ay; I guessed there was a lady in the case but pray, why does your master pass only for ensign? now, if he had shammed general indeed

Fag. Ah! Thomas, there lies the mystery of the matter. Hark'e, Thomas; my master is in love with a lady of a very singular taste: a lady, who likes him better as a half-pay ensign, than if she knew he was son and heir to sir Anthony Absolute, a baronet of three thousand a-year.

Coach. That is an odd taste indeed!-but has she got the stuff, Mr Fag? is she rich, hey?

Fag. Rich! why, I believe she owns half the stocks! Zounds! Thomas, she could pay the national debt as easily as I could my washerwoman! She has a lap-dog that eats out of gold; she feeds her parrot with small pearls; and all her thread papers are made of bank-notes!

Coach. Bravo! faith! Odd! I warrant she has a set of thousands at least: but does she draw kindly with the captain?

Fag. As fond as pigeons.

Coach. May one hear her name?

Fag. Miss Lydia Languish. But there is an old tough aunt in the way; though, by the by, she has never seen my master; for he got acquainted with miss while on a visit in Gloucestershire.

Coach. Well, I wish they were once harnessed together in matrimony. But pray, Mr Fag, what kind of a place is this Bath? I ha' heard a deal of it; here's a mort o' merry making-hey?

Fag. Pretty well, Thomas, pretty well; 'tis a good lounge: In the morning we go to the pumproom (though neither my master nor I drink the waters); after breakfast, we saunter on the parades, or play a game at billiards; at night we dance: but damn the place, I'm tired of it; their regular hours stupify me! not a fiddle nor a card after eleven! however, Mr Faulkland's gentleman and I keep it up a little in private parties. I'll introduce you there, Thomas; you'll like him

much.

Coach. Sure I know Mr Du-Peign; you know his master is to marry madam Julia.

Fag. I had forgot. But, Thomas, you must

Coach. More's the pity! more's the pity, I say! Odd's life! when I heard how the lawyers and doctors had took to their own hair, I thought how 'twould go next: Odd rabbit it! when the fashion had got foot on the bar, I guessed 'twould mount to the box! but 'tis all out of character, believe me, Mr Fag: and look'ee, I'll never gi' up mine; the lawyers and doctors may do as they will.

Fag. Well, Thomas, we'll not quarrel about that.

Coach. Why, bless you, the gentlemen of they professions ben't all of a mind; for, in our village now, thof Jack Gauge, the exciseman, bas ta'en to his carrots, there's little Dick, the farrier, swears he'll never forsake bis bob, though all the college should appear with their own heads!

Fag. Indeed! well said, Dick! but holdmark! mark! Thomas.

Coach. Zooks! 'tis the captain! Is that the lady with him?

Fag. No, no! that is madam Lucy, my master's mistress's maid. They lodge at that house. But I must after him, to tell him the news.

Coach. Odd! he's giving her money! well, Mr Fag

Fag. Good by, Thomas! I have an appointment in Gyde's Porch this evening at eight; meet me there, and we'll make a little party. [Exeunt severally.

SCENE II-A dressing-room in MRS MALAPROP's lodgings.

LYDIA sitting on a sopha, with a book in her hand.

Enter Lucy, as just returned from a message.

Lucy. Indeed, ma'am, I traversed half the town in search of it: I don't believe there's a circulating library in Bath I ha'n't been at.

Lydia. And could not you get 'The Reward of Coustancy?'

Lucy. No, indeed, ma'am.

Lydia. Nor The Fatal Connection?'
Lucy. No, indeed, ma'am.

Lydia. Nor The Mistakes of the Heart! Lucy. Ma'am, as ill luck would have it, Mr Bull said Miss Sukey Saunter had just fetched it away.

Lydia. Heigh-ho!-Did you inquire for The Delicate Distress?' Lucy. Or, The Memoirs of Lady Woodford? Yes indeed, ma'am. I asked every where for it; and I might have brought it from Mr Frederick's; but lady Slattern Lounger, who

had just sent it home, had so soiled and dog's- | eared it, it wa'n't fit for a christian to read.

Lydia. Heigh-ho!-Yes, I always know when Lady Slattern has been before me. She has a most observing thumb; and, I believe, cherishes her nails for the couvenience of making marginal notes. Well, child, what have you brought me? Lucy. Oh! here, ma'am.

[Taking books from under her cloak, and from her pockets.

This is The Gordian Knot,' and this 'Peregrine Pickle.' Here are The Tears of Sensibility,' and Humphrey Clinker.' This is. The Memoirs of a Lady of Quality, written by herself, and here the second volume of The Sentimental Journey.'

Lydia. Heigh-ho! What are those books by the glass?

Lucy. The great one is only The Whole Duty of Man,' where I press a few blonds, ma'am.

Lydia. Very well. Give me the sal volatile. Lucy. Is it in a blue cover, maʼam ? Lydia. My smelling bottle, you simpleton ! Lucy. O, the drops! here, ma'am. Lydia. Hold! here's some one coming-quick, see who it is[Exit Lucy.

Surely I heard my cousin Julia's voice!

Re-enter LUCY.

Lucy. Lud! ma'am, here is Miss Melville! Lydia. Is it possible?

Enter JULIA.

My dearest Julia, how delighted am I! [Embrace.] How unexpected was this happiness!

Julia. True, Lydia; and our pleasure is the greater; but what has been the matter? You were denied to me at first!

Lydia. Ah, Julia, I have a thousand things to tell you! but first inform me what has conjured you to Bath? Is sir Anthony here?

Julia. He is; we are arrived within this hour; and, I suppose, he will be here to wait on Mrs Malaprop as soon as he is dressed.

Lydia. Then, before we are interrupted, let me impart to you some of my distress! I know your gentle nature will sympathize with me, though your prudence may condemn me: My letters have informed you of my whole connection with Beverley--but I have lost him, Julia! My aunt has discovered our intercourse, by a note she intercepted, and has confined me ever since. Yet, would you believe it? she has fallen absolutely in love with a tall Irish baronet she met one night since we have been here, at lady Macshuffle's rout.

known to him-But it is a Delia or a Celia, I assure you!

Julia. Then, surely, she is now more indulgent to her niece?

Lydia. Quite the contrary. Since she has discovered her own frailty, she is become more suspicious of mine. Then I must inform you of another plague! That odious Acres is to be in Bath to-day; so that I protest I shall be teased out of all spirits!

Julia. Come, come, Lydia, hope for the best. Sir Anthony shall use his interest with Mrs Malaprop.

Lydia. But you have not heard the worst: Unfortunately I had quarrelled with my poor Beverley, just before my aunt made the discovery, and I have not seen him since, to make it up.

Julia. What was his offence?

Lydia. Nothing at all! But, I don't know how it was, as often as we had been together, we had never had a quarrel: And, somehow, I was afraid he would never give me an opportunity. So, last Thursday, I wrote a letter to myself, to inform myself that Beverley was at that time paying his addresses to another woman. I signed it Your Friend Unknown,' shewed it to Beverley, charged him with his falsehood, put myself in a violent passion, and vowed I'd never see him more.

Julia. And you let him depart so, and have not seen him since?

Lydia. 'Twas the next day my aunt found the matter out. I intended only to have teased him three days and a half, and now I've lost him for

ever.

Julia. If he is as deserving and sincere as you have represented him to me, he will never give you up so. Yet consider, Lydia; you tell me he is but an ensign, and you have thirty thousand pounds!

Lydia. But you know I lose most of my fortune if I marry without my aunt's consent, till of age; and that is what I have determined to do, ever since I knew the penalty. Nor could I love the man, who would wish to wait a day for the alternative.

Julia. Nay, this is caprice!

Lydia. What, does Julia tax me with caprice? I thought her lover Faulkland had inured her to it.

Julia. I do not love even his faults.

Lydia. But apropos! you have sent to him, I suppose?

Julia. Not yet, upon my word! nor has he the least idea of my being in Bath. Sir Anthony's resolution was so sudden, I could not inform him of it.

Lydia. Well, Julia, you are your own mistress, (though under the protection of sir Anthony) yet have you, for this long year, been a slave to the caprice, the whim, the jealousy of this ungrateful Faulkland, who will ever delay assuming the

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