to clap an officer upon him, and then let him see which of his friends will come to his relief.

Jarvis. Well, if I could but any way see him thoroughly vexed, every groan of his would be music to me; yet, faith, I believe it impossible. I have tried to fret him myself every morning these three years; but instead of being angry, he sits as calmly to hear me scold, as he does to his hair-dresser.

Sir William. We must try him once more, however, and I'll go this instant to put my scheme into execution; and I don't despair of succeeding, as, by your means, I can have frequent opportunities of being about him, without being known. What a pity it is, Jarvis, that any man's good-will to others should produce so much neglect of himself as to require correction! Yet we must touch his weaknesses with a delicate hand. There are some faults so nearly allied to excellence, that we can scarce weed out the vice without eradicating the virtue.

[Exit.

Jarvis. Well, go thy ways, Sir William Honeywood. It is not without reason, that the world allows thee to be the best of men. But here comes his hopeful nephew; the strange, good-natured, foolish, openhearted And yet, all his faults are such that one loves him still the better for them.

Enter Honeywood.

Honeywood. Well, Jarvis, what messages from my friends this morning?

Jarvis. You have no friends.

Honeywood. Well, from my acquaintance then? Jarvis. (Pulling out bills.) A few of our usual cards of compliment, that's all. This bill from your

arrested for debt in 1764, and was held prisoner in his own house until released by the good offices of Johnson.

tailor; this from your mercer; and this from the little broker in Crooked-lane.1 He says he has been at a great deal of trouble to get back the money you borrowed.

Honeywood. That I don't know; but I am sure we were at a great deal of trouble in getting him to lend it.

Jarvis. He has lost all patience.

Honeywood. Then he has lost a very good thing. Jarvis. There's that ten guineas you were sending to the poor gentleman and his children in the Fleet." I believe they would stop his mouth for a while at least.

Honeywood. Ay, Jarvis, but what will fill their mouths in the mean time? Must I be cruel because he happens to be importunate; and, to relieve his avarice, leave them to insupportable distress?

Jarvis. 'Sdeath! Sir, the question now is how to relieve yourself; yourself. — Have n't I reason to be out of my senses, when I see things going at sixes and sevens?

Honeywood. Whatever reason you may have for being out of your senses, I hope you'll allow that I'm not quite unreasonable for continuing in mine.

Jarvis. You are the only man alive in your present situation that could do so. Everything upon the waste! There's Miss Richland and her fine fortune gone already, and upon the point of being given to your rival.

Honeywood. I'm no man's rival.

1 Crooked-lane: Cannon Street, London; a street of small shops, mentioned also in She Stoops to Conquer (Act II).

2 the Fleet: A famous London prison dating from very early times.

Jarvis. Your uncle in Italy preparing to disinherit you; your own fortune almost spent ; and nothing but pressing creditors, false friends, and a pack of drunken servants that your kindness has made unfit for any other family.

Honeywood. Then they have the more occasion for being in mine.

Jarvis. Soh! What will you have done with him that I caught stealing your plate in the pantry? In the fact; I caught him in the fact.

Honeywood. In the fact? If so, I really think that we should pay him his wages, and turn him off.

Jarvis. He shall be turned off at Tyburn,1 the dog; we'll hang him, if it be only to frighten the rest of the family.

Honeywood. No, Jarvis; it's enough that we have lost what he has stolen; let us not add to it the loss of a fellow-creature!

Jarvis. Very fine! well, here was the footman just now, to complain of the butler; he says he does most work, and ought to have most wages.

Honeywood. That 's but just; though perhaps here comes the butler to complain of the footman.

Jarvis. Ay, it's the way with them all, from the scullion to the privy-counsellor. If they have a bad master, they keep quarrelling with him; if they have a good master, they keep quarrelling with one another.

Enter Butler, drunk.

Butler. Sir, I'll not stay in the family with Jonathan; you must part with him, or part with me, that's the ex-ex-exposition of the matter, sir.

1 turned off at Tyburn: Tyburn was the regular place of execution near London. Hanging was in these days the not unusual punishment for petty crimes. See The Vicar of Wakefield (chap. xv), "Don't you know, now, I could hang you all for this?"

Honeywood. Full and explicit enough. But what's his fault, good Philip?

Butler. Sir, he's given to drinking, sir, and I shall have my morals corrupted by keeping such company. Honeywood. Ha! ha! he has such a diverting wayJarvis. Oh, quite amusing.

Butler. I find my wine's a-going, sir; and liquors don't go without mouths, sir; I hate a drunkard, sir! Honeywood. Well, well, Philip, I'll hear you upon that another time; so go to bed now.

Jarvis. To bed! let him go to the devil!

Butler. Begging your honor's pardon, and begging your pardon, master Jarvis, I'll not go to bed, nor to the devil neither. I have enough to do to mind my cellar. I forgot, your honor, Mr. Croaker is below. I came on purpose to tell you.

Honeywood. Why did n't you show him up, block

head?

Butler. Show him up, sir? With all my heart, sir. Up or down, all's one to me.

[Exit.

Jarvis. Ay, we have one or other of that family in this house from morning till night. He comes on the old affair, I suppose. The match between his son, that's just returned from Paris, and Miss Richland, the young lady he's guardian to.

Honeywood. Perhaps so. Mr. Croaker, knowing my friendship for the young lady, has got it into his head that I can persuade her to what I please.

Jarvis. Ah! if you loved yourself but half as well as she loves you, we should soon see a marriage that would set all things to rights again.

Honeywood. Love me! Sure, Jarvis, you dream. No, no; her intimacy with me never amounted to more than friendship-mere friendship. That she is the most

lovely woman that ever warmed the human heart with desire, I own. But never let me harbor a thought of making her unhappy, by a connection with one so unworthy her merits as I am. No, Jarvis, it shall be my study to serve her, even in spite of my wishes; and to secure her happiness, though it destroys my own.

Jarvis. Was ever the like! I want patience.

Honeywood. Besides, Jarvis, though I could obtain Miss Richland's consent, do you think I could succeed with her guardian, or Mrs. Croaker, his wife; who, though both very fine in their way, are yet a little opposite in their dispositions, you know.

Jarvis. Opposite enough, Heaven knows! the very reverse of each other; she, all laugh and no joke; he, always complaining and never sorrowful; a fretful, poor soul, that has a new distress for every hour in the four-and-twenty

Honeywood. Hush, hush, he's coming up, he'll hear you.

Jarvis. One whose voice is a passing bell1
Honeywood. Well, well; go, do.

Jarvis. A raven that bodes nothing but mischief: a coffin and cross-bones; a bundle of rue; a sprig of deadly nightshade; a- (Honeywood, stopping his mouth at last, pushes him off.) [Exit Jarvis.

Honeywood. I must own, my old monitor is not entirely wrong. There is something in my friend Croaker's conversation that quite depresses me. His very mirth is an antidote to all gaiety, and his appearance has a stronger effect on my spirits than an undertaker's shop. Mr. Croaker, this is such a satisfaction—

Enter Croaker.

Croaker. A pleasant morning to Mr. Honeywood, 1 a passing bell: a bell tolling for the dying.