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 Rich. Lord, Sir, what's the matter?

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

Miss Rich. 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 rock'd by an earthquake; and fry beef steaks at a volcano.

Miss Rich. 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 Rich. (Alone.) What can he mean by all this? Yet, why should I enquire, 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 approach? It is the first time he ever shewed any thing in his conduct that seemed particular. Sure he cannot mean to -but he's here.

Enter Honeywood.

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

Miss Rich. Indeed! Leaving town, Sir ?

Honeyw. Yes, madam; perhaps the kingdom. I 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 Rich. His fears! What are his fears to mine! (Aside.) 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?

Honeyw. 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 Rich. And yet you only meant it in your goodnatur'd way, to make me pay a compliment to myself. In the same manner you danced that night with the most aukward woman in company, because you saw nobody else would take her out.

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

Miss Rich. 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.

Honeyw. 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 Rich. 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.

Honeyw. I ask 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 Rich. 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.

Honeyw. 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

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

Honeyw. 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 Rich. 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.

Honeyw. 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 Rich. Your friend, Sir! What friend ?

Honeyw. My best friend-my friend, Mr. Lofty, madam.

Miss Rich. He, Sir !

Honeyw. 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 Rich. Amazement!-No more of this, I beg you, Sir. Honeyw. 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 Rich. By no means.

Honeyw. Excuse me; I must; I know you desire it. Miss Rich. 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 in vain to expect happiness from him, who has been so bad an economist of his own; and that I must disclaim his friendship who ceases to be a friend to himself. [Exit.

Honeyw. How is this! she has confessed she loved him, and yet she seemed to part in displeasure. Can I have done any thing to reproach myself with? No: I believe not

yet after all, these things should not be done by a third person: I should have spared her confusion. My friendship carried me a little too far.

Enter Croaker, with the letter in his hand, and Mrs. Croaker.

Mrs Croak. Ha ha ha! And so, my dear, it's your supreme wish that I should be quite wretched upon this occasion? ha ha!

Croak. (Mimicking.) Ha! ha! ha! And so, my dear, it's your supreme pleasure to give me no better consolation ?

Mrs. Croak. Positively, my dear; what is this incendiary stuff and trumpery to me? our house may travel through the air like the house of Loretto, for aught I care, if I am to be miserable in it.

Croak. Would to heaven it were converted into a house of correction for your benefit. Have we not every thing to alarm us? Perhaps this very moment the tragedy is beginning.

Mrs. Croak. Then let us reserve our distress till the rising of the curtain, or give them the money they want, and have done with them.

Croak. Give them my money !—And pray, what right have they to my money?

Mrs. Croak. And pray, what right then have you to my good humour ?

Croak. And so your good humour advises me to part with my money? Why then, to tell your good humour a piece of my mind, I'd sooner part with my wife. Here's Mr. Honeywood, see what he'll say to it. My dear Honeywood, look at this incendiary letter dropped at my door. It will freeze you with terror; and yet lovey here can read it- -can read it, and laugh.

Mrs. Croak. Yes, and so will Mr. Honeywood.

Croak. If he does, I'll suffer to be hanged the next minute in the rogue's place, that's all.

Mrs. Croak. Speak, Mr. Honeywood; is there any thing more foolish than my husband's fright upon this occasion ?

Honeyw. It would not become me to decide, madam ; but doubtless, the greatness of his terrors, now, will but invite them to renew their villany another time.

Mrs. Croak. I told you, he'd be of my opinion.