her see that you despise her little girlish petulance, by taking no further notice of it. Now, were I in your case, I'd behave just as if nothing at all had happened. If she pouts, smile; and ask her how she likes your new sword-knot, or the point in your ruffles, or any other idle question. You know she must give you an answer. If it be a peevish one, laugh in her face, take up your hat, and wish her a good morning; if, on the contrary, she speaks with good-humour, seem not to hear her, but walk about the room, repeating verses. Then, as if you had not observed her before, Did you speak to me, Lady Flutter? But without waiting for her reply, slide out of the room, humming a tune

Now all this, you see, were she to relate it, will not have the appearance of ill treatment; and yet, my life for yours, it humbles her more than all the blustering airs you could put on.

Sir H. Flut. I am sure you are right, my lord. The case is plain; but the difficulty is in executing the thing properly, I am so warm in my temper. Oh, what would I give for your glorious cool sneer of contempt!

-I'll try for it positively; and 'egad, I'll now go to her and make the experiment; and so, my lord, adieu for the present, and thanks for this lesson.

Lord M. Sir Harry! do you dine at home to-day? Sir H. Flut. I don't know how that may be till I have reconnoitred; your lordship, I know, does not-and I hate to dine alone with the women.

Lord M. Oh, I shall certainly be at home soon after dinner, for I shall long to know on what terms you and my lady may be by that time.

Sir H. Flut. Oh, heaven knows! -we may be at cuffs by that time, perhaps; but I shall be in the way. [Erit SIR HARRY.

Lord M. If he follows my advice, I think she must hate him heartily—and then I step in as her comforter -But I have other business to mind at present-so

many projects on foot, without a certainty of accomplishing one of them. -Zounds! if I had not the firmness of a Stoic, I should beat my own brains out.

[Exit.

Scene III.-Changes to a Chamber.

Enter LADY MEDWAY and Louisa.

Lady M. My dear, it afflicts me as much as it does you; but you know your papa is absolute; I wish, therefore, you would endeavour to reconcile yourself to Sir Anthony.

Louisa. Indeed, madam, it is impossible! If my heart were ever so much at liberty, it never could endure that forbidden man.

Lady M. But, child, you are too much governed by fancy; -though he is not quite in the bloom of youth, yet he is far from being disagreeable. What is it you so much dislike in him?

Louisa. Dear madam! sure the pomp and strange turn of his phrases, and the solemnity of his manner, is almost ridiculous.

Lady M. He is rather formal, I allow you.

Louisa. And then his notions of love so extravagant, his address so romantic, nothing but flames and raptures in his mouth, and, according to my brother's account of him, he has no more real warmth than a marble statue.

Lady M. You find he loved Mrs. Knightly.

Louisa. His peculiarities diverted her, madam, and she indulged him in them.I am told, he used to sigh at her feet for half a day; and if he committed the smallest fault, she would impose a penance on him, which Sir Anthony always received as a mark of favour.

Lady M. I am sorry, my dear, it is not more agree

able to you; for I am commissioned to tell you, positively, you must accept of him for a husband.

Louisa. But, madam, he has never spoken a word to me on the subject-I have seen him but a few times, and-in short, I can't bear him.

Lady M. Shall I tell your papa what you say? He, no doubt, will be perfectly satisfied with this determination.

Louisa. Dear madam! sure you will not. Save me from my papa's anger; you know I dare not open my heart to him. You (except in your maternal tenderness) are more like a companion to me than a parent. The authority of the mother is melted down in the kindness of the friend; my papa's severity had else been insupportable.

Lady M. Louisa, you are not to give so harsh a name to your father's solicitude for your happiness. He is not to be shaken in his resolution. I have already exerted my utmost influence over him, and that, I am sorry to say, is less, much less, than it ought to be.Hist! I hear your father's voice below; he is coming up to you. I beg, my dear, you will let him see by your obedience, that my interposition has had its proper effect. I'll give you the opportunity to talk to him alone.

Louisa. Dear madam, don't leave me my papa is

so stern.

Lady M. I go to avoid ungrateful appeals from him. Consent with a good grace, Louisa, for 'tis certain you have no choice left. [Exit LADY MEDWAY.

Louisa. Heavens, what will become of me!

[She stands musing.

Scene IV.

LORD MEDWAY enters, stops at the door, and looks at her, she not observing him.

Lord M. [Repeating affectedly.]

On every hill, in every grove,
Along the margin of each stream,
Dear conscious scenes of former love
I mourn, and Damon is my theme.

What is your pretty tender heart ruminating upon ?
Your Damon, I suppose.-Were not you thinking of
Mr. Branville?

Louisa. No, my lord.

Lord M. I believe you don't tell truth, my ladylook up, gid-Ah, Louisa, Louisa, that conscious blush! But 'tis well you have the grace to be ashamed.

Louisa. My lord, if I do blush, I am not conscious of any cause, unless the fear of offending you.

Lord M. Pretty innocent!-all obedience too, I warrant. I hate hypocrisy from my very soul; you know that you are a rebel in the bottom of your heart. Speak honestly now, would not you run away with Branville this very night, if it were in your power? Louisa. My lord, 1—I

Lord M. My lord, I-I-, speak out, mistress.

Louisa. If I had your permission, my lord, I own I should be inclined to prefer him to-any other.

Lord M. Thou prevaricating monkey-dissemblers, too, from the very egg. And without my permission, miss; what answer does your modesty and filial piety suggest to that?

Louisa. That without it, I will never marry any one. Lord M. I don't believe one syllable of that; but I take you at your word; and now I tell you, that you never shall have it to marry him.-How does your lovesick heart relish that?

Louisa. My lord, I am resigned to your pleasure.

[She curtsies, and offers to go; he bows, and lets her walk to the door.

Lord M. Now, ma'am-walk back, if you pleasefor I have not done with you yet. [She comes back.] What does the fool hang her head for? Sit down there What, you are going to faint, I hope-Oh, Id-i-e! I ex-pire-Branville, take my last adieuHere, Betty, some hartshorn for the despairing nymph, quickly your lady is dying for love. So, so, so, the sluice is let out at last

So lilies look, surcharg'd with morning dew!

You really look very pretty when you cry, Louisa; I had a mind to see how it would become you.

Louisa. Indeed, my lord, you are too hard upon me. Lord M. How now, mistress! how dare you speak thus? What do you call a hardship? Love makes some timorous animals bold, they say; it makes women so with a vengeance.

Louisa. My lord, I beg your permission to withdraw.

Lord M. Stay where you are, madam.-When I condescend to talk with you, methinks you ought to know, 'tis your duty to attend to what I have to say. You know my mind already in regard to young Branville.But observe what I say; I forbid you to think, but even to think, of Branville. That is the first, and perhaps the hardest part of my command. The next is, that you resolve immediately to accept of Sir Anthony for your husband. And now, miss, you may, if you please, retire to your chamber, and, in plaintive strains, either in verse or prose, bemoan your hard fate; and be sure you complain to your waiting-woman what a tyrant you have to your father.-Go, get you gone.

[Exit LOUISA. This is the plague of having daughters; no sooner out of their leading-strings than in love, forsooth!