passion inspire you to a composition of your own, Mr. Beverley?

Bev. It inspires me with sentiments, madam, which I can't find words to express. Suckling, Waller, Landsdown, and all our dealers in love verses, give but a faint image of a heart touched like mine.

Belin. Poor gentleman! what a terrible taking you are in! But if the sonneteers cannot give an image of you, sir, have you had recourse to a painter, as you promised me?

Bev. I have, Belinda, and here,--here is the humble portrait of your adorer.

Belin. [Takes the picture.] Well! there is a likeness; but, after all, there is a better painter than this gentleman, whoever he be.

Bev. A better!

-now she is discontented. [Aside.] Where, madam, can a better be found?—If money can purchase him-

Belin. Oh! sir, when he draws for money he never succeeds. But when pure inclination prompts him, then his colouring is warm indeed. He gives a portrait that endears the original-

Bev. Such an artist is worth the Indies!

Belin. You need not go so far to seek him: he has done your business already. The limner I mean is a certain little blind god, called Love, and he has stamped such an impression of you here

Bev. Madam, your most obedient; and I can tell you, that the very same gentleman has been at work for you too.

Bell. [Who had been talking apart with CLARISSA.] Oh! he has had a world of business upon his hands, for we two have been agreeing what havoc he has made with us.

Clar. Yes, but we are but in a kind of fool's paradise here: all our schemes are but mere castle-building, which your father, Mr. Bellmont, and, my dear

Belinda,-yours too, are most obstinately determined to destroy.

Bell. Why, as you say, they are determined that I shall have the honour of Belinda's hand in the country dance of matrimony.

Belin. Without considering that I may like another partner better.

Bev. And without considering that I, forlorn as I am, and my sister, there-who is as well inclined to a matrimonial game of romps as any girl in Christendom, must both of us sit down, and bind our brows with willow, in spite of our strongest inclinations to mingle in the group.

Bell. But we have planned our own happiness, and, with a little resolution, we shall be successful in the end, I warrant you. Clarissa, let us take a turn this way, and leave that love-sick pair to themselves: they are only fit company for each other, and we may find wherewithal to entertain ourselves.

Clar. Let us try: turn this way.

Belin. Are you going to leave us, Clarissa?

Clar. Only just sauntering into this side-walk: we sha'n't lose one another.

Belin. You are such a tender couple! you are not tired, I see, of saying pretty soft things to each other. Well! well! take your own way.

Clar. And if I guess right, you are glad to be left together.

Belin. Who, I?

Clar. Yes, you; the coy Belinda!

Belin. Not I, truly: let us walk together.

Clar. No, no, by no means: you shall be indulged. Adieu!-we shall be within call.

[Exeunt BELLMONT and CLARISSA. Bev. My sister is generously in love with Bellmont:

I wish Belinda would act as openly towards me.

[Aside.

Belin. Well, sir!-Thoughtful! I'll call Mr. Bell

mont back, if that's the case. Ber. She will call him back.

Belin. Am I to entertain you, or you me?

Bev. Madam!

[Aside.

Belin. Madam!-ha, ha! Why you look as if you were frightened: Are you afraid of being left alone with me?

Bev. O, Belinda, you know that is the happiness of my life;-but

Belin. But what, sir?

Bev. Have I done any thing to offend you?
Belin. To offend me?

Bev. I should have been of the party last night; I own I should; it was a sufficient inducement to me that you was to be there; it was my fault, and you, I see, are piqued at it.

Belin. I piqued!

Bev. I see you are; and the company perceived it last night. I have heard it all: in mere resentment you directed all your discourse to Mr. Bellmont.

Belin. If I did, it was merely accidental.

Bev. No, it was deliberately done: forgive my rash folly in refusing the invitation; I meant no manner of harm.

Belin. Who imagines you did, sir?

Bev. I beg your pardon, Belinda; you take offence too lightly.

Belin. Ha, ha!-what have you taken into your head now?-This uneasiness is of your own making.-Upon my word, sir, whoever is your author, you are misinformed. You alarm me with these fancies, and you know I have often told you that you are of too refining a temper: you create for yourself imaginary misunderstandings, and then are ever entering into explanations. But this watching for intelligence from the spies and misrepresenters of conversation, betrays strong symp

toms of jealousy. I would not be married to a jealous man for the world.

Beo. Now she's seeking occasion to break off.— [Aside.] Jealousy, ma'am, can never get admission into my breast. I am of too generous a temper: a certain delicacy I own I have; I value the opinion of my friends, and when there are circumstances of a doubtful aspect, I am glad to set things in their true light. And if I do so with others, surely with you, on whom my happiness depends, to desire a favourable interpretation of my words and actions cannot be improper.

Belin. But these little humours may grow up, and gather into the fixed disease of jealousy at last.

LADY RESTLESS crosses the stage, and rings a bell at the door.

And-There now, there goes a lady, who is a victim to her own fretful imagination. Bev. Who is the lady, pray?

Belin. My Lady Restless. Walk this way, and I will give you her whole character. I am not acquainted with her ladyship, but I have heard much of her. This way. [Exeunt BELINDA and BEVERLEY. Lady R. [Ringing at the door.] What do these servants mean? There is something going forward here. I will be let in, or I will know the reason why. [Rings aguin.] But in the meantime, Sir John can let any body he pleases out at the street door: I'll run up the steps here, and observe.

[Exit.

TATTLE opens the door, MARMALET follows her. Tat. Who rung this bell?—I don't see any body ;— and yet I am sure the bell rung.—Well, Mrs. Marmalet, you will be going, I see.

Mar. Yes, Mrs. Tattle, I am obliged to leave you. I'll step across the Park, and I shall soon reach Grosvenor Square. When shall I see you at our house?

Tat. Heaven knows, when I shall be able to get out = my lady leads us all such lives! I wish I had such another place as you have of it.

Mar. I have nothing to complain of.

Tat. No, that you have not:—when shall I get such a gown as that you have on, by my lady? She will never fling off such a thing, and give it to a poor servant.-Worry, worry, worry herself, and every body else too.

Enter LADY RESTLESS.

Lady R. No; there is nobody stirring that way. What do I see? A hussy coming out of my house! Mar. Well, I must be gone, Mrs. Tattle: fare you well.

Lady R. She is dizened out too! why did not you open the door, Tattle, when I rung?

Tat. I came as soon as possible, madam.

Lady R. Who have you with you here? What is your business, mistress? [TO MARMALET.

Mar. My business, madam!

Lady R. In confusion, too! The case is plain.-You come here after Sir John, I suppose.

Mar. I come after Sir John, madam!

Lady R. Guilt in her face! yes, after Sir John :and, Tattle, you are in the plot against me; you were favouring her escape, were you?

Tut. I favour her escape, madam! What occasion for that? This is Mrs. Marmalet, madam, an acquaintance of mine, madam, as good a kind of body as any at all.

Lady R. O, very fine, mistress! you bring your creatures after the vile man, do you?

Mar. I assure you, madam, I am a very honest girl.

Lady R. O! I dare say so. Where did you get that gown?

Mar. La, ma'am ! I came by it honestly; my Lady