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and jehus headlong on in the dark; Passion and Prodigality blaze in the front, bewilder the coachman, and dazzle and blind the passengers; Wisdom, Prudence, and virtue, are overset and maimed, or murdered; and, at last, Repentance, like the footman's flambeau lagging behind, lights us to dangers when they are past all remedy.

Sulky. Your name is struck off the firm. I was the adviser.

Harry. You were very kind, Mr. Sulky. Sulky. Your father is at last determined. Harry, Ha, ha, ha! Do you think so? Sulky. You'll find so. And what brought you here, sir? (To Milford.)

Milford. A chaise and four.

Sulky. It might have carried you to a safer place. When do you mean to pay your debts?

Milford. When my father's executor prevails on the widow Warren to do me justice.

Sulky. And which way am I to prevail?

Milford. And which way am I to pay my debts? Sulky. You might have more modesty than insolently to come and brave one of your principal creditors, after having ruined his son by your evil counsel.

Harry. Ha, ha, ha! Don't believe a word on't, my good grumbler; I ruined myself: I wanted no counsellor.

Milford. My father died immensely rich; and though I am what the law calls illegitimate, 1 ought not to starve.

Sulky. You have had five thousand pounds, and are five more in debt. [with thousands. Milford. Yes, thanks to those who trust boys Sulky. You would do the same now that you think yourself a man.

Milford. (Firmly.) Indeed I would not.

Sulky. Had you been watching the widow at home, instead of galloping after a knot of gamblers and pickpockets, you might perhaps have done yourself more service.

Milford. Which way, sir?

Sulky. The will of your late father is found..
Milford. Found?

Sulky. I have received a letter, from which I learn it was at last discovered, carefully locked up in a private drawer; and that it is now a full month since a gentleman of Montpelier, coming to England, was entrusted with it. But no such gentleman has yet appeared. [the widow! Milford. If it should have got into the hands of Sulky. Which I suspect it has. You are a couple of pretty gentlemen. But beware! Misfortune is at your heels. Mr. Dornton vows vengeance on you both, and justly. He is not gone to bed; and, if you have confidence enough to look him in the face, I would have you stay where you are. Milford. I neither wish to insult, nor be insulted. [Exit. Sulky. Do you know, sir, your father turned the poor fellow into the street, who compassionately opened the door for you?

Harry. Yes, and my father knows I as compassionately opened the door for the poor fellow in return. [ing daily. Sulky. Very well, sir. Your fame is increasHarry. I am glad to hear it.

Sulky. Humph! Then perhaps you have para

graphed yourself?

Harry. Paragraphed? What? Where? Sulky. In the St. James's evening.

Harry. Me?

Sulky. Stating the exact amount.

Harry. Of my loss?

Sulky. Yours. You march through every avenue to fame, dirty or clean.

Harry. Well said. Be witty when you can; sarcastic you must be, in spite of your teeth. But I like you the better. You are honest. You are my cruet of cayenne, and a sprinkling of you is excellent.

Sulky. Well, sir, when you know the state of your own affairs, and to what you have reduced the house, you will perhaps be less ready to grin. Harry. Reduced the house! Ha, ha, ha! Enter MR. DORNTON, with a newspaper in his hand.

Dornton. So, sir!

Harry. (Bowing.) I am happy to see you, sir. Dornton. You are there, after having broken into my house at midnight; and you are here, (pointing to the paper) after having ruined me and my house by your unprincipled prodigality. Are you not a scoundrel?


Harry. No, sir: I am only a fool. Sulky. Good night to you, gentlemen. Dornton. Stay where you are, Mr. Sulky. I beg you to stay where you are, and bear witness to my solemn renunciation of him and his vices.

Sulky. I have witnessed it a thousand times. Dornton. But this is the last. Are you not a scoundrel, I say! (To Harry.) Harry. I am your son. [deeds. Dornton. (Calling off.) Mr. Smith! Bring in those Enter MR. SMITH, with papers.

You will not deny you are an incorrigible squanHarry. I will deny nothing. [derer? Dornton. A nuisance, a wart, a blot, a stain upon the face of nature?

Harry. A stain that will wash out, sir.

Dornton. A redundancy, a negation; a besotted sophisticated incumbrance: a jumble of fatuity; your head, your heart, your words, your actions, all a jargon; incoherent and unintelligible to yourself, absurd and offensive to others!

Harry. I am whatever you please, sir.

Dornton. Bills never examined, every thing bought on credit, the price of nothing asked. Conscious you were weak enough to wish for baubles you did not want, and pant for pleasures you could not enjoy, you had not the effrontery to assume the circumspect caution of common sense; and, to your other destructive follies, you must add the detestable vice of gaming.

Harry. These things, sir, are much easier doue than defended.

Dornton. But here.-Give me that parchment! (To Mr. Smith) The partners have all been summoned. Look, sir! Your name has been formally erased.

Harry. The partners are very kind.

Dornion. The suspicions already incurred by the known profligacy of a principal in the firm, the immense sums you have drawn, this paragraph, the run on the house it will occasion, the consternation of the whole city

Harry. All very terrible, and some of it very true. (Half aside.)

Dornton. (Passionately.) If I should happily outlive the storm you have raised, it shall not be to support a prodigal, or to reward a gambler. [Exit Mr. Smith.] You are disinherited. Read.

Harry. Your word is as good as the Bank, sir. Dornton. I'll no longer act the doating father, fascinated by your arts.

Harry. I never had any art, sir, except the one you taught me. [What? Dornton. I taught you! What? Scoundrel?

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Harry. Bid me good night, sir. Mr. Sulky here will bid me good night, and you are my father.Good night, Mr. Sulky.

Sulky. Good night. Harry. Come, sir

[Exit. [if I doDornton. (Struggling with passion.) I won't. Harry. Reproach me with my follies, strike out my name, disinherit me; I deserve it all, and more; but say, "Good night, Harry."

Dornton. I won't, I won't, I won't!
Harry. Poverty is a trifle; we can whistle it off;
Dornton. I will not.
[but enmity-

Harry. Sleep in emnity? And who can say how

soundly? Come, good night.

Dornton. I won't, I won't! (Run: off)

the shoe-maker, to cripple my feet; the hair-dresser, to burn my hair; the jeweller, to bore my ears; and the dentist, to file my teeth.


Jenny. Ah! You came here such a hoyden. Mrs. Ledger.) What, an't you gone yet, mistress? Sophia. La, Jenny, how can you be so cross to people? What is the matter with this good woman? Jenny. Oh! Nothing but poverty.

Sophia. Is that all? Here, (rummaging her pockets) give her this half crown, and make her rich. Jenny. Rich, indeed!

Sophia. What, is not it enough? La, I am sorry I spent all my money yesterday. I laid it out in sweet-meats, cakes, a canary-bird, and a poll-parrot. But I hope you are not very, very poor.

Mrs. Ledger. My husband served the late alderman five-and-twenty years. His master promised to provide for him; but his pitiless widow can see him thrown with a broken heart upon the parish. Sophia. Oh dear! Stop! Stop a bit! (Running off) Be sure you don't go.

Enter MR. SULKÝ.

Sulky. Where's your mistress, girl?
Jenny. My name is Jane Cocket, sir.
Sulky. Where's your mistress?
Jenny. Busy, sir.

Sulky. Tell her to come down. Don't stare, girl.

Harry. Say you so? Why then, my noble- but go and tell your mistress I want her.

hearted dad, I am indeed a scoundrel.

Re-enter MR. DORNTON.

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SCENE I.-The house of the Widow Warren.


Jenny. I tell you, good woman, I can do nothing for you.

Mrs Ledger. Only let me see Mrs. Warren. Jenny. And get myself snubbed. Not I indeed. Enter SOPHIA, skipping.

Sophia. La, jenny! Yonder's my mam ma, with a whole congregation of milliners. mantua-makers, mercers, haberdashers, lace-men, feather-men, and -and all the world, consulting about second Jenny. I know it. [mourning. Sophia. It will be six months to-morrow, since the death of my father-in-law; and she has been busy giving orders for this fortnight, that every thing might be brought home and tried on to-day. I do believe she'll sleep in her new clothes. Jenny. How you run on, miss.

Sophia. What would my dear grandma say, if she saw her? Why she is even fonder of finery than I


Jenny. Sure, miss, you are not fond of finery? Sophia. Oh, but I am. I wonder why she won't let me wear high-heeled shoes; I am sure I am old enough. I shall be eighteen next Christmas day, at midnight: which is only nine months and two days. And since she likes to wear slips, and sashes, and ringlets and-nonsense, like a girl, why should not I have high heels and gowns, and satins and trains, and sweeps, (mimicing) and-like a woman.

Jenny. It's very true what your mamma tells you, miss; you have been spoiled by your old fond grandmother, in Gloucestershire.

Sophia. Nay, Jenny, I won't hear you call my dear grandma names. Though every body told the loving old soul she would spoil me.

Jenny. And now your mamma has sent for you up to town, to finish your iddication.

Sophia. Yes, she began on the very first day. There was the stay-maker sent for, to screw up my shape;

Jenny. (Aside.) Humph! Mr. Biack and gruff!

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[for him.

Mrs. Ledger. The widow refuses to do any thing Sulky. Humph!

Mrs. Ledger Service, age, and honesty, are poor pleas, with affluence, ease, and Mrs. Warren. Sulky. Humph!

[alderman's executor? Mrs. Ledger. You, sir, I understand, are the late Su ky. I can't tell. [my husband? Mrs. Ledger. Perhaps you may be able to serve Sulky. I don't know. However, give my respects to him. He shan't starve: tell him that.

Sophia. Nay, but take this in the mean time. Sulky. Ay; take it, take it. [Exit Mrs. Ledger, much affected.] And who are you, miss Charity? Sophia. Me, sir? Oh! I-I am my grandma's Sulky. Humph! [grand-daughter.

Sophia. Sophia Freelove.

Sulky. Oh! The widow's daughter by her first Sophia. Yes, sir. [husband?

Re-enter JENNY. Sulky. Where's your mistress? Jenny. Coming, sir. So! You have stolen your mamma's purse, miss?


Zophia. La, don't say so; I only ran away with She was bargaining for some smuggled lace with one of your acquaintance, and I thought I could dispose of her money to better advantage. Jenny. Without her consent?

Sophia. Yes, to be sure; I knew I should never dispose of it in that manner with her consent.

Jenny. Well! Here comes your mamma. [Exit. Enter the WIDOW WARREN, in a fantastic girlish morning dress, surrounded by Miliners, Mantuamakers, Furriers, Hatters, &c., and their attendants with band boxes; all ta king as they come on. Widow. So you'll be sure not to forget my chapeau-a-la Prusse, Mr. Mincing,

[feathers. Widow. And you'll make a delicate choice of the Hatter. The selection will be clegant, madam. Widow. Yes. I know Mr. Mincing, you're a charming man. And you will let me have my pierrot-a-la- Coblentz, by nine in the morning, Mrs. Tiffany.

Hatter. Certainly not, madam.

Mantua-maker. To a minute, madam. [sure Sulky. Madam, when you have a moment's lefWidow. Be quiet, you fright; don't interrupt me! And my caraco-a-la-hussar, and my bavaroises-ala- duchesse. And put four rows of pearl in my turban.

Milliner. Ver vell, me ladyship.
Widow. And you'll all come together exactly at
Omnes. We'll all be here. (Going.)

Widow. And don't forget the white ermine tippets, and the black fox muffs, and the Kamschatka furs, that you mentioned, Mr. Weazel.

Furrier. I'll bring a fine assortment, madam. Widow. And, and, and-No; no,-you may all go;-I can think of nothing else;--I shall remember more to-morrow.

Hatter and Furrier. Thank you, madam! Mantua-maker and Girls. Very much obliged to you, madam. (Together.)

Milliner. Dee ver good bonjour to me ladyship.


Widow. What was it you were saying, Mr. Sulky? Pray, child, what have you done with my purse? Sophia. Given it away, ma'.

Widow. Given it away, minikin?

Sophia. Yes, ma'.

Widow. Given my purse away! To whom? For what purpose?

Sophia. La, ma', only-only to keep a poor woman from starving.

Widow. I protest, child, your grandmother has totally ruined you. [ing to you. Sulky. Not quite, madam; she has left the finishWidow. What were you saying, Mr. Sulky? Sulky. You won't give me leave to say anything, madam.

dear dead good man on Mr. Milford, and his profligate companions?

Sulky. Not I indeed, madam; though the profligate to whom you make love should happen to be one of them

Widow. Ha, ha, ha! Oh, the monster! I make love! You have no eyes, Mr. Sulky! (Walking and exhibiting herself.) You are really blind! But 1 know whom you mean.

Sulky. I mean young Dornton, madam.

Widow. To be sure you do. Whom could you mean? Elegant youth! Rapturous thought! Sophia. I am sure, sir, young Mr. Doruton is no profligate.

Sulky. (Significantly.) You are sure?
Sophia. Yes, that I am.

Sulky. Humph!

Sophia. And it's very scandalous, very scandalous indeed, to say he is my ma's lover. Sulky. Humph!

Sophia. Because he is a fine genteel young gentleman; and you know ma' is

Widow. Pray, minikin, be less flippant with your tongue [tooSophia. Why, la, ma', you yourself know you are Widow. Go up to your chamber, child. Sophia. I am sure, ma', I say it is very scandalous to call the handsome Mr. Dornton your lover.

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secure in your company.

I'll have nothing

Widow. Ha, ha, ha! Love! Sulky. Yes, you make love to Dornton. Nay, you Widow. You know you are a shocking trouble-make love to the booby, Goldfinch. Even I am not some man. Mr. Sulky. I have a thousand things to remember, and can't bear teasing. It fatigues my spirits. So pray relate this very urgent business of yours in a single word. What would you Sulky. Justice. [have? Do you think

Widow. Lord, what do you mean? I am in the commission? Sulky. Yes, of follies innumerable. Widow. You are a sad savage, Mr. Sulky. And who is it you want justice for?

Sulky. Your late husband's son, John Milford. Widow. Now pray don't talk to me. You are a very intrusive person. You quite derange my ideas. I can think of nothing soft or satisfactory while you are present.

Sulky. Will you hear me, madam? Widow. I can't; I positively can't; it is an odious subject. [brother Milford? Sophia. Nay, ma', how can you be so cross to my Wiaow. Your brother, child? Country education! How often, minikin, have I told you he is no brother of yours.

Sophia. La, ma', he was your husband's son. Widow. Yes, his ba-Faugh! Odious word! Your brother?

Sophia, Yes, that he is; for he is in distress.
Sulky. Humph!

Widow. And would you now, you who pretend to be a very prudent,-ridiculous kind of a person, wish to see me squander the wealth of my poor

Widow. Ha, ha, ha! You are a shocking being, Mr. Sulky. But if you should happen to see Mr. Dornton, do astonish your acquaintance; do a good-natured thing, and tell him I am at home all the day. Love to you? Ha, ha, ha! Oh, you figure! Caricatura of tenderness! You insupportable thing! [Exit.

Sulky. (Sighs.) Ah! All labour in vain.
Enter JENNY.

Stand out of the way, girl!


Jenny. There she goes. (Looking after the Widow.) That's lucky. This way, sir.

Enter HARRY DORNTON, followed by a Servant, with bills in his hand.

Jenny. My mistress is gone up to her toilette, sir; but I can send you somebody you may like better. [Exi'.

Harry. Obliging Abigail! (Looking over his papers.) 'Sdeath! What, are all these tradesmen's bills? [with them.

Servant. All, sir. Mr. Smith sent me after you Harry. When were they brought? Servant. Some last night, but most this morning. Harry. Il news travels fast, and honesty is devilish industrious. Go round to them all, return their bills, and bid them come themselves to-day. Has Mr. Williams, the hosier, sent in his bill? Servant. No, sir.

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Sophia. Oh, Mr. Dornton, I am glad to see you. Do you know. I've got the song by heart that you was so good as to teach me?

Harry. And do you know, my charming Sophia, you are the most delightful, beautiful, bewitching scholar that ever took lesson ?

Sophia. La, Mr. Dornton, I'm sure I'm very stupid. Harry. That you are all intelligence, all grace, all wit?

Sophia. To be sure my ma' caught me singing it, and she was pettish; because you know it's all about love, and ends with a happy marriage.

Harry. But why pettish?

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Harry. I dare not ask.

Sophia. Why?

Harry. Lest I should offend you.

Sophia. Nay now, Mr. Dornton, that is not right of you. I am never offended with any body, and I am sure I should not be offended with you. My grandma' always said I was the best tempered girl in the world. What is it?

Harry. Were you- (Taking her hand.) Did you ever know what it is to love?

Sophia. La, now, how could you ask one such a question? You know very well one must not tell. Besides, you know, too, one must not be in love. Harry. Why not?

Sophia. Because,-because, I'm but a girl. My grandma' has told me a hundred times, it's a sin for any body to be in love before they be a woman grown, full one-and-twenty; and I am not eigh


Harry. Love, they say cannot be resisted. Sophia. Ah! but I have been taught better. It may be resisted; nobody need be in love unless they like; and so I won't be in love, for I won't wilfully do amiss. (With great positiv ness.) No; I won't love any person, though I should love him ever so dearly. Harry. (Aside.) Angelic innocence! (Aloud.) Right, lovely Sophia, guard your heart against seducers.

Sophia. Do you know it is full five weeks since Valentine's-day; and, because I'm not one-andtwenty, nobody sent me a Valentine!

Harry. And did you expect one?

Sophia. Nay, I can't say but I did think-. In Gloucestershire, if any young man happen to have a liking for a young woman, she is sure to hear of it on Valentine's-day. But perhaps Valentine'sday does not fall so soon here as it does in the country. [a Valentine. Harry. Why, it is possible you may yet receive Sophia. Nay now, but don't you go to think that I am asking for one; for that would be very wrong of me, and I know better. My grandma' told me i must never mention nor think of such things till I am a woman, full one-and-twenty grown; and that if I were to find such a thing at my window, or under my pillow, or concealed in a plum-cake,Hurry. A plum-cake?

Sophia. Yes, I assure you I have heard of a Va

lentine sent baked in a plum cake;—and indeed, I would not receive such a thing for the world; no, not from the finest man on earth, if I did not think him to be a true and faithful, true, true lover.

Harry. But how must he prove his faith and truth?

Sophia. Why first he must love me very dearly, with all his heart and soul: and then he must be willing to wait till I am one-and-twenty.

Harry. And would not you love in return? Sophia. N-yes, when I come to be one-andHarry. Not sooner?

Sophia. Oh no; I must not.


Harry. Surely, you might if you pleased? Sophia. Oh, but you must not persuade me to that. If you do, I shall think you are a bad man, such as my grandma' warned me of.

Harry. And do you think me so? Sophia. Do I? No! I would not think you so for a thousand, thousand golden guineas.

Harry. (Aside.) Fascinating purity! What am I about? To decive or trifle with such unsuspecting affection, would indeed be villany.

Gold. (Without, at a distance.) Is she above? Must see her.

Sophia. La, I hear that great, ridiculous, horsejockey Goldfinch coming up. (Sighs.)-Good bye, Mr. Dornton.

Harry. Heaven bless you, Sophia; sweet Sophia, Heaven bless you, my lovely angel! Heigho! Sophia. Heigho!

Gold. (Without.) Is she here?



Gold. Ha! my tight one!
Harry. (Surveying him.) Well, Charles?
Gold. How you stare! An't I the go? That's
Harry. Ha, ha, ha!
[your sort!

Gold. Where's the widow? Harry. Gone up to dress, and will not be down these two hours.

Gold. A hundred to eighty I'd sup up a string of twenty horses in less time than she takes to dress her fetlocks, plait her main, trim her ears, and buckle on her body clothes.

Harry. You improve daily, Charles! Gold. To be sure. That's your sort! An't I a genius? (Turning round to shew himself.) Harry. Quite an original. You may challenge the whole fraternity of the whip to match you. Gold. Match me! Newmarket can't match me. (Shewing himself.) That's your sort! Harry. Oh no! Ha, ha, ha! You are harder to match than one of your own pied ponies;-a very different being from either your father or grandfather.

Gold. Father or grandfather!-Shakebags both. Harry. How.

Gold. Father a sugar-baker, grandfather a slopseller; I'm a gentleman. That's your sort! Harry. Ha, ha, ha! and your father was only a man of worth.

Gold, Kept a gig! (With great contempt.) Knew nothing of life! Never drove four!

Harry. No; but he was a useful member of soGold. A usef-! what's that? [ciety.

Harry. Ha, ha, ha! a pertinent question. Gold. A gentleman like me a useful member of society! Bet the long odds nobody ever heard of such a thing!

Harry. You have not acquired your character in the world for nothing, Charles.

Gold. World! What does the world say?
Harry. Strange things. It says you have got

to the hand of jockeys, Jews, and swindlers; all that, though old Goldfinch was, in his day, on of the richest men on 'Change, his son will shetly become poorer than the poorest blackleg at Newmarket.

Gld. Damn the world!

Hory. With all my heart; damn the world, for it say little better of me.

Gol Bet you seven to five the Eclipse colts agains the Highflyers, the second spring meeeting. Hary. No; I have done with Highflyer and Eclipsetoo So you are in pursuit of the widow? Gold. Tul cry! Must have her!

Harry H, ha, ha! heigho! you must?
Gold. All up with me else. If I don't marry
I've secured the

the widow, I must smash!

knowing one

Harry. Wom do you mean, the maid?

Gold. Protised her a husband on the wedding-day.

Enter JENNY.

Jenny. My istress can't see you at present, gentlemen. [airing in the photon.

Gold. Can't se me? (Vexed.) Take Harriet an
Harry. Whatis Harriet your favourite?
Gold. To be sue. I keep her.
Harry. You de

Gold. Fine creaure.
Harry. Well brd?

Gold. Just to my taste.

Like myself, free and

easy. That's your ort! Harry. A fine woman? Gold. Prodigious Sister to the Irish Giant. Six feet in her stockngs. That's your sort! Sleek coat, flowing mane, road chest, all bone. Dashing figure in a phæon. Sky blue habit, scarlet sash, green hat, yelow ribands, white feathers, gold band and tassal. That's your sort! Harry. Ha, ha, ha. Heigho! Why you are a high fellow, Charles.

Gold. To be sure. Kow the odds, hold four-inhand, turn a corner in syle, reins in form. elbows square, wrist pliant. Hyait! drive the Coventry stage twice a week all ummer, pay for an inside place, mount the box, ti) the coachy a crown, beat the mail, come in full sped, rattle down the gateway, take care of your heds; never killed but one woman and child in all my life. That's your sort! (Going.)

Jenny. (Aside to Gold.) Take him with you.


Gold. Want a hedge? Tike guineas to pounds, Precipitate against Dragon? Harry. No.

Gold. (Aside.) Wish I could have him a few. Odd or even for fifty? (Drawiny his hand clenched from his pocket.)

Harry. Ha, ha, ha! odd enough.

Gold. Will you cut a card, hide in the hat, chuck in the glass, draw cuts, heads or tails, gallop the maggot, swim the hedgehog, any thing?

Harry. Nothing.

Gold. I'm up to all. That's your sort! Get him with me and pigeon him. (Aside.) Come and see my greys; been to Tattersall's and bought a set of six-smokers, beat all England for figure, bone, and beauty. Hayait! charmers. That's your sort! Bid for two pair of mouse ponies for Harriet. [mouse ponies! Harry. Ha, ha, ha! The Irish Giantess drawn by Gold. Come and see 'em. Harry. (Sarcastically.) No; I am weary of the company of stable-boys.


Gold. Why so? Shan't play you any tricks. If they squirt water at you, or make the colts kick you, tell me, and I'll horsewhip 'em. Arch dogs! deal of wit.

Harry. When they do, I'll horsewhip them myself. Gold. Yourself? Ware that, wrong there. Harry. I think I should be right. Gold. Do you? What, been to school? Harry. To school! Why yes-IGold. Mendoza! oh! Good morrow. Harry. Ha, ha, ha! There goes one of my friends. Heigho.


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Milford. But you'll go ? Harry. No.

is begun, everybody is there; the Frenchman is Milford. Yes, you will. Come, come, the match the first player in the world.

Harry. It's a noble exercise.

Milford. Ay. Cato himself delighted it it.

Harry. Yes, it was much practised by the Romans.
Gold. The Romans; who are they?
Harry. Ha, ha, ha!

[not, Harry? Milford. Ha, ha, ha! will you go or will you Harry. I can't, Jack; my conscience won't let me. Milford. Psha! Zounds, if we don't make haste it will be all over!

Harry. (In a hurry.) Do you think it will? (Stops short.) No; I won't: I must not.

Milford. (Taking hold of his arm.) Come along, I Harry. No.

Milford. They have begun.

Gold. Have they? I'm off!

[tell you.


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