your shop; 'tis the sixth volume of my deceased friend Tristram; he is a flattering writer to us poor soldiers; and the divine story of Le Fevre, which makes part of this book, in my opinion of it, does honour not to its author only, but to human nature. Ful. He's an author I keep in the way of trade, but one I never relish'd: he is much too loose and profligate for my taste.

Dud. That's being too severe: I hold him to be a moralist in the noblest sense; he plays indeed with the fancy, and sometimes perhaps too wantonly; but while he thus designedly masks his main attack, he comes at once upon the heart; refines, amends it, softens it; beats down each selfish barrier from about it, and opens every sluice of pity and benevolence.

Ful. We of the catholic persuasion are not much bound to him.Well, Sir, I shall not oppose your opinion; a favourite author is like a favourite mistress; and there you know, captain, no man likes to have his taste arraigned.

Dud. Upon my word, sir, I don't know what a man likes in that case; 'tis an experiment I never made.

Ful. Sir! Are you serious?

Dud. 'Tis of little consequence whether you think so. Ful. What a formal old prig it it! [Aside.] I apprehend you, sir; you speak with caution; you are married?

Dud. I have been.

Ful. And this young lady, which accompanies you

I

Dud. Passes for my daughter.

Ful. Passes for his daughter! humph-[Aside.] She is exceedingly beautiful, finely accomplished, of a most enchanting shape and air.

Dud. You are much too partial; she has the greatest defect a woman can have.

Ful. How so, pray?

Dud. She has no fortune.

Ful. Rather

say that you

sore defect in one of your years, Captain Dudley: you've served, no doubt?

Dud. Familiar coxcomb! But I'll humour him.

[Aside.

Ful. A close old fox! But I'll unkennel him.

[Aside. Dud. Above thirty years I've been in the service, Mr. Fulmer.

Ful. I guess'd as much; I laid it at no less: why 'tis a wearisome time; 'tis an apprenticeship to a profession, fit only for a patriarch. But preferment must be closely followed: you never could have been so far behind-hand in the chace, unless you had palpably mistaken your way. You'll pardon me, but I begin to perceive you have lived in the world, not with it.

Dud. It may be so; and you, perhaps, can give me better council. I'm now soliciting a favour; an exchange to a company on full pay; nothing more; and yet I meet a thousand bars to that; tho', without boasting, I should think the certificate of ser

vices, which I sent in, might have purchased that indulgence to me.

Ful. Who thinks or cares about 'em? Certificate of services, indeed! Send in a certificate of your fair daughter; carry her in your hand with you.

Dud. What! Who? My daughter! Carry my daughter! Well, and what then?

Ful. Why, then your fortune's made, that's all. Dud. I understand you: and this you call knowledge of the world? Despicable knowledge; but, sirrah, I will have you know [Threatening him.

Ful. Help Who's within? Wou'd you strike me, sir? Wou'd you lift up your hand against a man in his own house?

Dud. In a church, if he dare insult the poverty of a man of honour.

Ful. Have a care what you do; remember there is such a thing in law as an assault and battery; ay, and such triffing forms as warrants and indictments.

Dud. Go, sir; you are too mean for my resentment: 'tis that, and not the law, protects you.Hence !

Ful. An old, absurd, incorrigible blockhead! I'll be reveng'd of him. [Aside.]

SCENE III.

Young DUDLEY enters to him.

[Exit.

Charles. What is the matter, sir? Sure I heard an

outcry as I enter'd the house?

Dud. Not unlikely; our landlord and his wife are for ever wrangling.—Did you find your aunt Dudley at home?

Charles. I did.

Dud. And what was your reception ?

Charles. Cold as our poverty and her pride could make it.

Dud. You told her the pressing occasion I had for a small supply to equip me for this exchange; has she granted me the relief I asked ?

Charles. Alas, sir, she has peremptorily refused it. Dud. That's hard: that's hard, indeed. My petition was for a small sum; she has refused it, you say: well, be it so; I must not complain. Did you see the broker about the insurance on my life?

Charles. There again I am the messenger of ill news; I can raise no money, so fatal is the climate: alas, that ever my father should be sent to perish in such a place!

SCENE IV.

Miss DUDLEY enters hastily.

Dud. Louisa, what's the matter? you seem frighted. Lou. I am, indeed: coming from Miss Rusport's, I met a young gentleman in the streets, who has beset me in the strangest manner.

Charles. Insufferable! was he rude to you?

Lou. I cannot say he was absolutely rude to me, but he was very importunate to speak to me, and

once or twice attempted to lift up my hat: he fol. lowed me to the corner of the street, and there I gave him the slip.

Dud. You must walk no more in the streets, child, without me or your brother.

Lou. O, Charles, Miss Rusport desires to see you directly; Lady Rusport is gone out, and she has some. thing particular to say to you.

Charles. Have you any commands for me, sir?

Dud. None, my dear; by all means wait upon Miss Rusport. Come, Louisa, I shall desire you to go up to your chamber, and compose yourself. [Exeunt.

SCENE V.

Enter BELCOUR, after peeping in at the Door.

Bel. Not a soul, as I'm alive. Why, what an odd sort of a house is this! Confound the little jilt, she has fairly given me the slip. A plague upon this London, I shall have no luck in it: such a crowd, and such a hurry, and such a number of shops, and one so like the other, that whether the wench turned into this house or the next, or whether she went up stairs or down stairs (for there's a world above and a world below, it seems), I declare I know no more than if I was in the Blue Mountains. In the name of all the devils at once, why did she run away? If every handsome girl I meet in this town is to lead me such a wild-goose chace, I had better have stayed in the torrid zone. I shall be wasted to the size of a