when she meets me at an assembly; or you and I in our coach and six at Hyde Park together!

Count Bas. Ay, or when she hears the boxkeepers at an opera, call out-The countess of Basset's servants!

Jenny. Well, I say it, that will be delicious! And then, mayhap, to have a fine gentleman, with a star and a what-d'ye-call-um ribbon, lead me to my chair, with his hat under his arm all the way! Hold up, says the chairman; and so, says I, my lord, your humble servant. I suppose, madam, says he, we shall see you at my lady Quadrille's? Ay, ay, to be sure, my lord, says ISo in swops me, with my hoop stuffed up to my forehead; and away they trot, swing! swang! with my tassels dangling, and my flambeaux blazing, and Oh, it's a charming thing to be a woman of quality!

Count Bas. Well! I see that, plainly, my dear, there's ne'er a duchess of them all will become an equipage like you.

Jenny. Well, well, do you find equipage, and I'll find airs, I warrant you.

SONG.

What though they call me country lass,
I read it plainly in my glass,
That for a duchess I might pass;

Oh, could I see the day!
Would fortune but attend my call,
At park, at play, at ring, and ball,
I'd brave the proudest of them all,
With a stand by—clear the way!

Surrounded by a crowd of beaux,
With smart toupees, and powdered clothes,
At rivals I'd turn up my nose ; ›
Qh, could I see the day!
I'd dart such glances from these eyes,
Should make some lord or duke my prize:
And then, oh, how I'd tyrannize,

With a stand by—clear the way!

Oh, then for every new delight,
For equipage and diamonds bright,
Quadrille, and plays, and balls all night ;
Oh, could I see the day!
Of love and joy I'd take my fill,
The tedious hours of life to kill,
In every thing I'd have my will,

With a stand by-clear the way!

Squire Rich. Troth! I think this masquerading's the merriest game that ever I saw in my life! Thof' in my mind, an there were but a little wrestling, or cudgel-playing naw, it would help it hugely. But what a-rope makes the parson stay so?

Count Bas. Oh, here he comes, I believe.

Enter MYRTILLA, with a Constable. Con. Well, madam, pray which is the party that wants a spice of my office here? Myr. That's the gentleman.

[Pointing to the Count. Count Bas. Hey-day! what, in masquerade, doctor?

Con. Doctor! Sir, I believe you have mistaken your man: but, if you are called count Basset, I have a billet-doux in my hand for you, that will set you right presently.

Count Bas. What the devil's the meaning of all this?

Con. Only my lord chief justice's warrant against you for forgery, sir.

Count Bas. Blood and thunder!

Con. And so, sir, if you please to pull off your fool's frock there, I'll wait upon you to the next justice of peace immediately.

Jenny. Oh, dear me, what's the matter?

[Trembling. Count Bas. Oh, nothing, only a masquerading frolic, my dear.

Squire Rich. Oh, ho! is that all?

Sir Fran. No, sirrah! that is not all!

[SIR FRANCIS, coming softly behind the squire, knocks him down with his cane.

Enter MANLY.

Squire Rich. Oh, lawd! Oh, lawd! he has beaten my brains out.

Man. Hold, hold, sir Francis! have a little mercy upon my poor godson, pray, sir.

Sir Fran. Wounds, cousin, I han't patience. Count Bas. Manly! nay, then, I'm blown to the devil. [Aside. Squire Rich. Oh, my head! my head!

Enter LADY WRONGHEAD.

Lady Wrong. What's the matter here, gentlemen? For Heaven's sake! What, are you murdering my children?

Con. No, no, madam! no murder! only a little suspicion of felony, that's all.

Sir Fran. [To JENNY.] And for you, Mrs Hotupon't, I could find in my heart to make you wear that habit as long as you live, you jade you. Do you know, hussy, that you were within two minutes of marrying a pickpocket?

Count Bas. So, so, all's out I find. [Aside. Jenny. Oh, the mercy! why, pray, papa, is not the count a man of quality, then?

Sir Fran. Oh, yes, one of the unhanged ones, it seems.

Lady Wrong. [Aside.] Married! Oh, the confident thing! There was his urgent business, then-slighted for her! I han't patience!—and, for aught I know, I have been all this while ma king a friendship with a highwayman.

Man. Mr Constable, secure there.

Sir Fran. Ah, my lady! my lady! this comes of your journey to London: but now I'll have a frolic of my own, madam; therefore pack up your trumpery this very night; for, the moment my horses are able to crawl, you and your brats shall make a journey into the country again. Lady Wrong. Indeed, you are mistaken, sir Francis-I shall not stir out of town, yet, I promise you.

Sir Fran. Not stir? Waunds, madam

Man. Hold, sir! If you'll give me leave a little-I fancy I shall prevail with my lady to think better on't.

Sir Fran. Ah, cousin, you are a friend, indeed!

Man. [Apart to my lady.] Look you, madam, as to the favour you designed me, in sending this spurious letter inclosed to my lady Grace, all the revenge I have taken, is to have saved your son and daughter from ruin. Now, if you will take them fairly and quietly into the country again, will save your ladyship from ruin.

Man. No words, sir; a wife, or a mittimus. Count Bas. Lord, sir! this is the most unmerciful mercy!

Man. A private penance, or a public oneConstable.

Count Bas. Hold, sir; since you are pleased to give me my choice, I will not make so ill a compliment to the lady, as not to give her the preference.

Man. It must be done this minute, sir: the chaplain you expected is still within call. Count Bas. Well, sir,- -since it must be -Come, spouse-I am not the first of the fraternity, that has run his head into one noose, to keep it out of another.

How it

Lady Wrong. What do you mean, sir? Man. Why, sir Francis shall never know what is in this letter; look upon it. came into my hands, you shall know at leisure. Lady Wrong. Ha!-my billet-doux to the count! and an appointment in it! I shall sink with confusion!

Man. What shall I say to sir Francis, madam?

Myr. Come, sir, don't repine: marriage is, at worst, but playing upon the square.

Count Bas. Ay, but the worst of the match, too, is the devil.

Man. Well, sir, to let you see it is not so bad as you think it, as a reward for her honesty, in detecting your practices, instead of the forged bill you would have put upon her, there's a real one of five hundred pounds to begin a new honey [Gives it to MYRTILLA.

Sir Fran. Ah, cousin, I doubt I am obliged to you for it.

Man. Come, come, sir Francis; take it as you find it. Obedience in a wife is a good thing, though it were never so wonderful! And now, sir, we have nothing to do but to dispose of this gentleman.

Count Bas. Mr Manly! sir! I hope you won't ruin me!

Man. Did you forge this note for five hundred pounds, sir?

Count Bas. Sir-I see you know the world, and, therefore, I shall not pretend to prevaricate -But it has hurt nobody yet, sir; I beg you will not stigmatise me; since you have spoiled my fortune in one family, I hope you won't be so cruel to a young fellow, as to put it out of my power, sir, to make it in another, sir.

Man. Look you, sir, I have not much time to waste with you: but, if you expect mercy yourself, you must shew it to one you have been cruel to.

Count Bas. Cruel, sir!

Man, Have you not ruined this young woman?

Count Bas. Sir, this is so generous an actMan. No compliments, dear sir-I am not at leisure now to receive them. Mr Constable, will you be so good as to wait upon this gentleman into the next room, and give this lady in marriage to him?

Con. Sir, I'll do it faithfully.

Count Bas. Well, five hundred will serve to make a handsome push with, however.

[Exeunt COUNT BASSET, MYRTILLA, and Constable.

Sir Fran. And that I may be sure my family's rid of him for ever-come, my lady, let's even take our children along with us, and be all witnesses of the ceremony.

[Exeunt SIR FRANCIS, LADY WRONGhead, MISS and SQUIRE.]

Man. Now, my lord, you may enter.

Enter LORD and LADY TOWNLY, and LADY
GRACE.

Lord Town. So, sir, I give you joy of your negociation.

Man. You overheard it all, I presume?
Lady Grace. From first to last, sir.

Lord Town. Never were knaves and fools better disposed of.

Man. A sort of poetical justice, my lord, not much above the judgment of a modern comedy.

Lord Town. To heighten that resemblance, I think, sister, there only wants your rewarding the hero of the fable, by naming the day of his happiness.

Lady Grace. This day, to-morrow, every hour, I hope, of life to come, will shew I want not inclination to complete it.

Man. Whatever I may want, madam, you will always find endeavours to deserve you. Lord Town. Then, all are happy.

Lady Town. Sister, I give you joy consummate as the happiest pair can boast.

In you, methinks, as in a glass, I see
The happiness, that once advanced to me.
So visible the bliss, so plain the way,
How was it possible my sense could stray?
But now, a convert to this truth I come,
That married happiness is never found from
home.
[Exeunt omnes,

VOL. II.

4 R

SCENE I-RANGER'S chambers in the Temple. A knocking is heard at the door for some time; when RANGER enters, having let himself in.

Ran. Once more I am got safe to the Temple. Let me reflect a little. I have sat up all night: I have my head full of bad wine, and the noise of oaths, dice, and the damned tinkling of tavern bells; my spirits jaded, and my eyes sunk in my head; and all this for the conversation of a company of fellows I despise. Their wit lies only in obscenity, their mirth in noise, and their delight in a box and dice. Honest Ranger, take my word for it, thou art a mighty silly fellow !

Enter a Servant, with a wig dressed. Where have you been, rascal? If I had not had the key in my pocket, I must have waited at the door in this dainty dress.

Ran. Civil! Egad, I think I am very civil. [Kisses her again.

Servants pass over the stage.

Have you been for the money this morning, as I ordered you?

Ser. No, sir. You bade me go before you was up; I did not know your honour meant before you went to bed.

Ran. None of your jokes, I pray; but to business. Go to the coffee-house, and inquire if there has been any letter or message left for me. Ser. I shall, sir. Ran. [Repeats.]

"You think she's false; I'm sure she's kind :
I take her body, You her mind;
'Which has the better bargain?'

Oh, that I had such a soft, deceitful fair, to lull my senses to their desired sleep! [Knocking at the door.] Come in.

Enter SIMON.

Oh, master Simon, is it you? How long have you been in town?

Sim. Just come, sir; and but for a little time neither; and yet I have as many messages as if we were to stay the whole year round. Here they are, all of them, [Pulls out a number of cards.] and, among them, one for your honour.

Ran. [Reads.] Clarinda's compliments to her 'cousin Ranger, and should be glad to see him for ever so little a time that he can be spared from the more weighty business of the law.'] Ha, ha, ha the same merry girl I ever knew her.

Sim. My lady is never sad, sir.

Enter a Servant, and BELLAMY.

Ser. Sir, Mr Bellamy.

Ran. Damn your impertinence-Oh, Mr Bellamy, your servant. Mil. What shall I say to my

mistress?

Ran. Bid her make half a dozen more; but be sure you bring them home yourself. [Exit Milliner.] Pshaw! Pox! Mr Bellamy, how should you like to be served so yourself?

Bel. How can you, Ranger, for a minute's pleasure, give an innocent girl the pain of heart I am confident she felt?- -There was a modest blush upon her cheek that convinces me she is honest.

Ran. May be so. I was resolved to try, however, had you not interrupted the experiment. Bel. Fy, Rauger! will you never think?

Ran. Yes; but I cannot be always athinking. The law is a damnable dry study, Mr Bellamy; and without something now and then to amuse and relax, it would be too much for my brain, I promise ye -But I am a mighty sober fellow grown. Here have I been at it these three hours; but the wenches will never let me alone.

Bel. Three hours! Why, do you usually study in such shoes and stockings?

Ran. Rat your inquisitive eyes! Er pede Herculem. Egad, you have me. The truth is, I am but this moment returned from the tavern. What, Frankly here, too!

Enter FRANKLY.

Ran. Pr'ythee, Simon, open the door.
Enter Milliner.

Well, child and who are you?

Mil. Sir, my mistress gives her service to you; and has sent you home the linen you bespoke.

Ran. Well, Simon, my service to your lady, and let her know I will most certainly wait upon her. I am a little busy, Simon--and so

Sim. Ah, you're a wag, Master Ranger, you're a wag-but mum for that. Erit.

Ran. I swear, my dear, you have the prettiest pair of eyes--the loveliest pouting lips-I never saw you before.

Mil. No, sir! I was always in the shop. Ran. Were you so?-Well, and what does your mistress say?—The devil fetch me, child, you looked so prettily, that I could not mind one word you said.

Mil. Lard, sir, you are such another gentleman!-Why, she says, she is sorry she could not send them sooner. Shall I lay them down? Ran. No, child. Give them to me -Dear little smiling angel- [Catches, and kisses her. Mil. I beg, sir, you would be civil.

:

Ran. It is to him, then, I am obliged for this visit but with all my heart. He is the only man to whom I don't care how much I am obliged.

Bel. Your humble servant, sir.

Frank. You know, Ranger, I want no inducement to be with you. But--you look sadlyWhat-no merciless jade hashas she?

Ran. No, no; sound as a roach, ny lad. I only got a little too much liquor last night, which I have not slept off yet.

Bel. Thus, Frankly, it is every day. All the morning his head aches; at noon, he begins to clear up; towards evening, he is good company; and all night, he is carefully providing for the same course the next day.

Ran. Why, I must own, my ghostly father, I did relapse a little last night, just to furnish out a decent confession for the day.

Frank. And he is now doing penance for it. Were you his confessor, indeed, you could not well desire more.

Ran. Charles, he sets up for a confessor with