Olivia. Well, sure, if my indiscretions were to be done over again

Jarvis. My life for it, you would do them ten times over. Olivia. Why will you talk so? If you knew how unhappy they make me

Jarvis. Very unhappy, no doubt: I was once just as unhappy when I was going to be married myself. I'll tell you a story about that

Olivia. A story! when I'm all impatience to be away. Was there ever such a dilatory creature?—

Jarvis. Well, madam, if we must march, why we will march; that's all. Though, odds bobs, we have still forgot one thing we should never travel without-a case of good razors, and a box of shaving powder. But no matter, I believe we shall be pretty well shaved by the way. [Going.

Enter Garnet.

Garnet. Undone, undone, madam. Ah, Mr. Jarvis, you said right enough. As sure as death, Mr. Honeywood's rogue of a drunken butler dropped the letter before he went ten yards from the door. There's old Croaker has just picked it up, and is this moment reading it to himself in the hall.

Olivia. Unfortunate! We shall be discovered.

Garnet. No, madam, don't be uneasy, he can make neither head nor tail fit. To be sure, he looks as if he was broke loose from Bedlam about it, but he can't find what it means for all that. O Lud, he is coming this way all in the horrors!

Olivia. Then let us leave the house this instant, for fear he should ask farther questions. In the mean time, Garnet, do you write and send off just such another. [Exeunt.

Enter Croaker.

Croaker. Death and destruction! Are all the horrors of air, fire, and water, to be levelled only at me? Am I only to be singled out for gunpowder-plots, combustibles, and conflagration? Here it is-An incendiary letter dropped at my door.

6

To Muster Croaker, these, with speed.' Ay, ay, plain enough the direction: all in the genuine incendiary spelling, and as cramp as the devil. With speed!' O, confound your speed. But let me read it once more. (Reads.) 'Muster Croaker, as sone as yowe see this, leve twenty gunnes at the bar of the Talboot til caled for, or yowe and yower experetion will be al blown up.' Ah, but too plain. Blood and gunpowder in every line of it. Blown up! murderous dogs! All blown up! Heavens! what have I and my poor family done, to be all blown up! (Reads.) 'Our pockets are low, and money we must have.' Ay, there's the reason; they'll blow us up, because they have got low pockets. (Reads.) 'It is but a short time you have to consider; for if this takes wind, the house will quickly be all

of a flame.' Inhuman monsters! blow us up, and then burn us. The earthquake at Lisbon was but a bonfire to it. (Reads.) 'make quick dispatch, and so no more at present. But may Cupid, the little god of love, go with you wherever you go.' The little god of love! Cupid, the little god of love, go with me! Go you to the devil, you and your little Cupid together! I'm so frightened, I scarce know whether I sit, stand, or go. Perhaps this moment I'm treading on lighted matches, blazing brimstone, and barrels of gunpowder. They are preparing to blow me up into the clouds. Murder! We shall all be burnt in our beds; we shall all be burnt in our beds!

Enter Miss Richland.

Miss Rich. Lord, sir, what's the matter?

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

Miss Rich. I hope not, sir.

Croaker. 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 rocked by an earthquake; and fry beef-stakes 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 tie bakers to poison us in our bread; and so kept the whole family a week upon potatoes.

Croaker. 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 Richland, alone.

Miss Rich. What can be mean by all this? Yet why should I inquire, 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 tobut he's here.

Enter Honeywood.

Honeyw. I presumed to solicit this interview, madam, before 1 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 good-natured way, to make me pay a compliment to myself. In the same manner you danced that night with the most awkward 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 everybody 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 shew to most advantage at first. Our sex are like poor tradesmen, that put all their best goods to be seen at the windows.

me.

Honeyw. The first impression, madam, did indeed deceive 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 lesson hath 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 your's; 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 pre

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

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

Mrs. Croaker. 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'm to be miserable in it.

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

Croaker. Give them my money!-And pray, what right have they to my money?

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

Croaker. 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. Croaker. Yes, and so will Mr. Honeywood.

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

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

Croaker. How, sir! do you maintain that I should lie down under such an injury, and shew, neither by my tears nor complaints, that I have something of the spirit of a man in me?

Honeyw. Pardon me, sir. You ought to make the loudest complaints, if you desire redress. The surest way to have redress is to be earnest in the pursuit of it.

Croaker. Ay, whose opinion is he of now?

Mrs. Croaker. But don't you think that laughing off your fears is the best way?

Honeyw. What is the best, madam, few can say; but I'll maintain it to be a very wise way.

Croaker. But we're talking of the best. Surely the best way is to face the enemy in the field, and not wait till he plunders us in our very bed-chamber.

Honeyw. Why, sir, as to the best, that-that's a very wise way, too.

Mrs. Croaker. But can any thing be more absurd, than to double our distresses by our apprehensions, and put it in the power of every low fellow, that can scrawl ten words of wretched spelling, to torment us?

Honeyw. Without doubt, nothing more absurd.

Croaker. How! would it not be more absurd to despise the rattle till we are bit by the snake.

Honeyw. Without doubt, perfectly absurd.

Croaker. Then you are of my opinion?
Hmeyw. Entirely.

Mrs. Croaker. And you reject mine?

Honeyw. Heavens forbid, madam. No, sure no reasoning can be more just than your's. We ought certainly to despise malice if we cannot oppose it, and not make the incendiary's pen as fatal to our repose as the highwayman's pistol.