had a quarrel; and, somehow, I was afraid he would never give me an opportunity; so, last Thursday, I wrote a letter to myself, to inform myself that Beverley was, at that time, paying his addresses to another woman. I signed it, "Your Friend Unknown," shewed it to Beverley, charged him with his falsehood, put myself in a violent passion, and vowed I'd never see him more. Jul. And you let him depart so, and have not seen him since? Lyd. 'Twas the next day my aunt found the matter out: I intended only to have teased him three days and a half, and now I've lost him for ever. Jul. If he is as deserving and sincere as you have represented him to me, he will never give you up so. Yet, consider, Lydia; you tell me he is but an ensign, and you have thirty thousand pounds. Lyd. But you know I lose most of my fortune, if I marry without my aunt's consent, till of age; and that is what I have determined to do ever since I knew the penalty; nor could I love the man who would wish to wait a day for the alternative. Jul. Nay, this is caprice! Lyd. What! does Julia tax me with caprice? I thought her lover, Faulkland, had inured her to it. Jul. I do not love even his faults. Lyd. But apropos! you have sent to him, I suppose? Jul. Not yet, upon my word; nor has he the least idea of my being in Bath: Sir Anthony's resolution was so sudden I could not inform him of it. Lyd. Well, Julia, you are your own mistress, though under the protection of Sir Anthony; yet have you, for this long year, been a slave to the caprice, the whim, the jealousy of this ungrateful Faulkland, who will ever delay assuming the right of a husband, while you suffer him to be equally imperious as a lover. of giving my heart to a man because he could Lucy. O! ma'am, here is Sir Anthony Absolute, just come home with your aunt Lyd. They'll not come here: Lucy, do you watch. Jul. Yet I must go; Sir Anthony does not know I am here, and if we meet, he'll detain me, to shew me the town. I'll take another opportunity of paying my respects to Mrs. Malaprop, when she shall words, so ingeniously misapplied, without being treat me, as long as she chooses, with her select mispronounced. [Exit. Lyd. Here, my dear Lucy, hide these books. Enter MRS. MALAPROP and SIR ANTHONY Mrs. M. There, Sir Anthony! there sits the deliberate simpleton, who wants to disgrace her family, and lavish herself on a fellow not worth a shilling. Lyd. Madam, I thought you once Mrs. M. You thought, miss! I don't know any business you have to think at all: thought does not become a young woman. But the point we would request of you is, that you will promise to forget this fellow; to illiterate him, I say, from your me Lyd. Ah! madam, our memories are independent of our wills: it is not so easy to forget. Jul. Nay, you are wrong, entirely: we were contracted before my father's death: that, and some consequent embarrassments, have delayed what I know to be my Faulkland's most ardent wish. He is too generous to trifle on such a point, and, for his character, you wrong him there too. No, Lydia;mory. he is too proud, too noble, to be jealous: if he is captious, 'tis without dissembling; if fretful, without rudeness. Unused to the fopperies of love, he is negligent of the little duties expected from a lover; but, being unhackneyed in the passion, his affection is ardent and sincere; and as it engrosses his whole soul, he expects every thought and emotion of his mistress to move in unison with his. Yet, though his pride calls for this full return, his humility makes him undervalue those qualities in him, which would entitle him to it; and, not feeling why he should be loved to the degree he wishes, he still suspects that he is not loved enough. This temper, I must own, has cost me many unhappy hours; but I have learned to think myself his debtor for those imperfections which arise from the ardour of his attachment. Lyd. Well, I cannot blame you for defending him; but, tell me candidly, Julia, had he never saved your life, do you think you should have been attached to him as you are? Believe me, the rude blast that overset your boat, was a prosperous gale of love to him. Jul. Gratitude may have strengthened my attachment to Mr. Faulkland, but I loved him before he had preserved me; yet, surely, that alone were an obligation sufficient Lyd. Obligation! why, a water-spaniel would have done as much! Well, I should never think Mrs. M. But I say it is, miss: there is nothing on earth so easy as to forget, if a person chooses to set about it. I'm sure I have as much forgot your poor, dear uncle, as if he had never existed; and I thought it my duty so to do; and, let me tell you, Lydia, these violent memories don't become a young woman. Sir Anth. Why, sure, she won't pretend to remember what she's ordered not! Ay, this comes of her reading! Lyd. What, crime, madam, have I committed, to be treated thus? Mrs. M. Now, don't attempt to extirpate yourself from the matter; you know I have proof controvertible of it. But, tell me, will you promise to do as you're bid? Will you take a husband of your friends' choosing? Lyd. Madam, I must tell you plainly, that, had I no preference for any one else, the choice you have made would be my aversion. Mrs. M. What business have you, miss, with preference and aversion? They don't become a young woman; and you ought to know, that, as both always wear off, 'tis safest in matrimony, to begin with a little aversion. I am sure I hated your poor, dear uncle, before marriage, as if he'd been a blackamoor; and, yet, miss, you are sensible what a wife I made; and, when it pleased heaven to release me from him, 'tis unknown what tears I shed! But, suppose we were going to give you another choice, will you promise us to give up this Beverley? Lyd. Could I belie my thoughts so far as to give that promise, my actions would certainly as far belie my words. worse. Mrs. M. Take yourself to your room. You are fit company for nothing but your own i'l humours. Lyd. Willingly, ma'am; I cannot change for the [Exit. Mrs. M. There's a little intricate hussy for you! Sir Anth. It is not to be wondered at, ma'am; all that is the natural consequence of teaching girls to read. In my way hither, Mrs. Malaprop, I observed your niece's maid coming forth from a circulating library; she had a book in each hand; they were half-bound volumes with marble covers: from that moment, I guessed how full of duty I should see her mistress! Mrs. M. Those are vile places, indeed! Sir Anth. Madam, a circulating library in a town is as an evergreen tree of diabolical knowledge; it blossoms through the year. And, depend on it, Mrs. Malaprop, that they who are so fond of handling the leaves, will long for the fruit at last. Mrs. M. Fie, fie! Sir Anthony! you surely speak laconically. Sir Anth. Why, Mrs. Malaprop, in moderation, now, what would you have a woman know? Mrs. M. Observe me, Sir Anthony, I would by no means wish a daughter of mine to be a progeny of learning; I don't think so much learning becomes a young woman: for instance; I would never let her meddle with Greek, or Hebrew, or algebra, or simony, or fluxions, or paradoxes, or such inflammatory branches of learning; nor will it be necessary for her to handle any of your mathematical, astronomical, diabolical instruments; but, Sir Anthony, I would send her, at nine years old, to a boarding-school, in order to learn a little ingenuity and artifice: then, sir, she would have a supercili. ous knowledge in accounts; and, as she grew up, I would have her instructed in geometry, that she might know something of the contagious countries: this, Sir Anthony, is what I would have a woman know; and I don't think there is a superstitious article in in. Sir Anth. Well, well, Mrs. Malaprop, I will dispute the point no further with you; though I must confess, that you are a truly moderate and polite arguer, for almost every third word you say is on my side of the question. But, Mrs. Malaprop, to the more important point in debate; you say you have no objection to my proposal? Mrs. M. None, I assure you. I am under no positive engagement with Mr. Acres; and, as Lydia is so obstinate against him, perhaps your son may have better success. Sir. Anth. Well, madem, I will write for the boy directly. He knows not a syllable of this yet, though I have for some time had the proposal in my head. He is at present with his regiment. Mrs. M. We have never seen your son, Sir Anthony; but I hope no objection on his side. Sir Anth. Objection! let him object if he dare! No, no, Mrs. Malaprop; Jack knows, that the least demur puts me into a frenzy directly. My process was always very simple: in his younger days, 'twas 'Jack do this;' if he demurred, I knocked him down! and, if he grumbled at that, I always sent him out of the room. Mrs. M. Ay, and the properest way o' my con science! nothing is so conciliating to young people as severity. Well, Sir Anthony, I shall give Mr. Acres his discharge, and prepare Lydia to receive your son's invocations; and I hope you will represent her to the Captain as an object not altogether illegible. Sir Anth. Madam, I will handle the subject praIdently. Well, I must leave you; and, let me beg you, Mrs. Malaprop, to enforce this matter roundly to the girl: take my advice, keep a tight hand; if she reject this proposal, clap her under lock and key; and, if you were just to let the servant forget to bring her dinner for three or four days, you can't conceive how she'd come about. [Exit. Mrs. M. Well, at any rate, I shall be glad to get her from under my intuition. She has somehow discovered my partiality for Sir Lucius O'Trigger. Sure, Lucy, can't have betrayed me! No, the girl is such a simpleton, I should have made her confess it. Lucy, Lucy! (Calls.) Had she been one of your artificial once, I should never have trusted her. Enter LUCY. Lucy. Did you call, ma'am? Mrs. M. Yes, girl. while you was out? Did you see Sir Lucius Lucy. No, indeed, ma'am; not a glimpse of him. Mrs. M. You are sure, Lucy, that you never mentioned Lucy. O, gemini! I'd sooner cut my tongue out. Mrs. M. Well, don't let your simplicity be imposed upon. Lucy. No, ma'am. Mrs. M. So, come to me presently, and I'll give if ever you betray what you are trusted with, you another letter to Sir Lucius: but mind, Lucy, (unless it be other people's secrets to me,) you forfeit my malevolence for ever; and your being a simpleton shall be no excuse for your locality. [Exit. me give you a little respite. (Aliering her manner.) Lucy. Ha, ha, ha! So, my dear simplicity, let Let girls in my station, be as fond as they please of being expert and knowing in their trusts, commend me to a mask of silliness, and a pair of sharp eyes for my own interest under it. Let me see to what at a paper)-For abbetting Miss Lydia Languish in a account have I turned my simplicity lately: (looks sundry times, twelve pounds twelve; gowns, five; hats, design of running away with an ensign: in money, ruffles, caps, &c., &c. numberless. From the said ensign within this last month, six guineas and a half. About a quarter's pay! Item, from Mrs. Malaprop, for betraying the young people to hr-when I found matters were likely to be discovered,-two guineas ing divers letters-which I never delivered, -tu and a French shawl. Item, from Mr. Acres, for carryguineas and a pair of buckles. Item, from Sir Lucius o'Trigger, three crowns, two gold pocket pieces, ani a forced to make my Hibernian believe, that he silver snuff-box." Well done simplicity! yet I was was corresponding, not with the aunt, but with the niece; for though not over rich, I found he had ings of a gentleman to the necessities of his fortune. too much pride and delicacy to sacrifice the feel ACT II. [Exit. SCENE I-Captain Absolute's Lodgings. Enter CAPTAIN ABSOLUTE and FAG. Fag. Sir, while I was there, Sir Anthony came in: I told him you had sent me to inquire after his health, and to know if he was at leisure to see you. Capt. A. And what did he say on hearing I was at Bath? Fag. Sir, in my life, I never saw an elderly gentleman more astonished! Capt. A. Well, sir, and what did you say? Fag. O! I lied, sir-I forget the precise lie-but, you may depend on't, he got no truth from me. Yet, with submission, for fear of blunders in future, I should be glad to fix what has brought us to Bath, in order that we may lie a little consistently. Sir Anthony's servants were curious, sir; very curious indeed. Capt. A. You have said nothing to them? Fag. Oh! not a word, sir-not a word. Mr. Thomas, indeed, the coachman (whom I take to be the discreetest of whips) Capt. A. 'Sdeath! you rascal! you have not trusted him? Fag. Oh! no, sir,-no, no-not a syllable, upon my veracity! He was, indeed, a little inquisitive; but I was sly, sir-devilish sly! My master, (said I,) honest Thomas, (you know, sir, one says honest to one's inferiors,) is come to Bath to recruit; yes, sir, I said to recruit; and whether for men, money, or constitution, you know, sir, is nothing to him, nor any one else. Capt. A. Well-recruit will do; let it be so. Fag. Oh! sir, recruit will do surprisingly; indeed, to give the thing an air, I told Thomas, that your honour had already enlisted five disbanded chairmen, seven minority waiters, and thirteen billiard-markers. Capt. A. You blockhead! never say more than is necessary. Fag. I beg pardon, sir; I beg pardon: but, with submission, a lie is nothing unless one supports it. Sir, whenever I draw on my invention for a good current lie, I always forge endorsements as well as the bill. Capt. A. Well, take care you don't hurt your credit by offering too much security, Is Mr. Faulkland returned? Fag. He is above, sir, changing his dress. Capt. A. Can you tell whether he has been informed of Sir Anthony's and Miss Melville's arrival? Fag. I fancy not, sir; he has seen no one since he came in, but his gentleman, who was with him at Bristol. I think, sir, I hear Mr. Fau kland coming down. Capt. A. Go, tell him I am here. Fag. Yes, sir. (Going.) I beg pardon, sir; but should Sir Anthony call, you will do me the favour to remember that we are recruiting, if you please. Capt. A. Well, well. Fag. And, in tenderness to my character, if your honour could bring in the chairmen and waiters, I shall esteem it as an obligation; for, though I never scruple a lie to serve my master, yet it hurts one's conscience to be found out. [Exit. Capt. A. Now for my whimsical friend: if he does not know that his mistress is here, I'll tease him a little before I tell him. Enter FAG. Fag. Mr. Faulkland, sir. Enter MR. FAULKLAND. Faulk. Nay, then, you trifle too long; if you are sure of her, propose to the aunt, in your own character, and write to Sir Anthony for his consent. Capt. A. Softly, softly; for, though I am convinced my little Lydia would elope with me as Ensign Beverley, yet I am by no means certain that she would take me with the impediment of our friends' consent, a regular humdrum wedding, and the reversion of a good fortune on my side. Well, but Faulkland, you'll dine with us to-day at the hotel? Faulk. Indeed, I cannot! I am in no spirits to be of such a party. Capt. A. By heavens! I shall forswear your company. You are the most teasing, captious, incorrigible lover! Do love like a man. Faulk. Ah! Jack, your heart and soul are not like mine, fixed immutably on one only object. You throw for a large stake; but, losing, you could stake and throw again; but I have set my sum of happiness on this cast, and not to succeed were to be stripped of all. Capt A. But, for heaven's sake! what grounds for apprehension can your whimsical brain conjure up at present? Faulk. What grounds for apprehension, did you say? Heavens! are there not a thousand? I fear for her spirits, her health, her life. O! Jack, when delicate and feeling souls are separated, there is not a feature in the sky, not a movement of the elements, not an aspiration of the breeze, but hints some cause for a lover's apprehension. Capt. A. Ay, but we may choose whether we will take the hint or not. So, then, Faulkland, if you were convinced that Julia were well, and in spirits, you would be entirely content? Faulk. I should be happy beyond measure; I am anxious only for that. Capt. A. Then cure your anxiety at once: Miss Melville is in perfect health, and is at this moment in Bath. Faulk. Nay, Jack,- don't trifle with me. Capt. A. She is arrived here with my father, within this hour. Faulk. Can you be serious? Capt. A. I thought you knew Sir Anthony better than to be surprised at a sudden whim of this kind. -Seriously, then, it is as I tell you, upon my hon our. Faulk. My dear Jack, now, nothing on earth can give me a moment's uneasiness. Enter FAG. Fag. Sir, Mr. Acres, just arrived, is below. Capt. A. Stay, Faulkland; this Acres lives within a mile of Sir Anthony, and he shall tell you how your mistress has been ever since you left her. Fag, shew the gentleman up. [Exit Fag. Faulk. What, is he much acquainted in the family. rival of mine; that is, of my other self's; for he does Capt. A. Oh! very intimate: he is likewise a not think his friend, Captain Absolute, ever saw the lady in question; and it is ridiculous enough to hear him complain to me of one Beverley, a con[Exit. cealed, skulking rival, whoFaulk. Hush! he's here! Capt. A. Faulkland, you're welcome to Bath again you are punctual in your return. Faulk. Yes; I had nothing to detain me when I had finished the business I went on. Well, what news since I left you? How stand matters between you and Lydia ? Capt. A. 'Faith, much as they were. Enter ACRES. Acres. Ha! my dear friend, noble Captain and honest Jack, how dost thou? just arrived, 'faith, as you see. Sir, your humble servant. Warm work on the roads, Jack-ods whips and wheels! I've travelled like a comet, with a tail of dust all the way as long as the Mall, Capt. A. Ah! Bob. you are indeed an eccentric | planet, but we know your attraction hither; give me leave to introduce Mr. Faulkland to you: Mr. Faulkland, Mr. Acres. Acres. Sir, I am most heartily glad to see you: sir, I solicit your connexions. Eh! Jack; what, this is Mr. Faulkland, who- Capt. A. Ah, Bob, Miss Melville's Mr. Faulkland. Acres. Ah! Mr. Faulkland, you are indeed a happy man! Fault. I have not seen Miss Melville yet, sir; I hope she enjoyed full health and spirits in Devonshire? Acres. Never knew her better in my life, sir; nover better. Ods blushes and blooms! she has been as healthy as a German spa. Fauik. Indeed! I did hear that she had been a little indisposed. Acres. False, false, sir; only said to vex you; quite the reverse, I assure you. Falk. There, Jack, you see she has the advantage of me; I had almost fretted myself ill. Cart. A. Now are you angry with your mistress for not having been sick. Falk. No, no; you misunderstand me; yet surely a little trifling indisposition is not an unnatural consequence of absence from those we love. Now, confess; isn't there something unkind in this violent, robust, unfeeling health? Capt. A. Oh! it is very unkind of her to be well in your absence, to be sure! Acres. Good apartments, Jack. Faulk. Well, sir, but you was saying that Miss Melville has been so exceedingly well; what, then, she has been merry and gay I suppose? always in spirits, eh? Acres. Merry! ods crickets! she has been the belle and spirit of the company wherever she has been; so lively and entertaining! so full of wit and good humour! Faulk. By my soul! there is an innate levity in woman that nothing can overcome! What! happy, and I away! Capt. A. Just now, you were only apprehensive for your mistress's spirits. Faulk. Why, Jack, have I been the joy and spirit of the company? Capt. A. No, indeed, you have not. Faulk. Have I been lively and entertaining? been happy; no, no, I am glad of that; but she has Capt. A. He says the lady we speak of dances as well as she sings. Acres. Ay, truly does she; there was at our last race ball, Faulk. Hell and the devil! There! there; I told you so! Oh! she thrives in my absence! Dancing! Capt. A. For heaven's sake! Faulkland, don't expose yourself so! Suppose she has danced, what then? does not the ceremony of society often oblige Faulk. Well, well, I'll contain myself: perhaps, as you say, for form's sake. I say, Mr. Mr. What's his d-d name? Capt. A. Acres, Acres. Faulk. O ay, Mr. Acres, you were praising Miss Melville's manner of dancing a minuet-eh? Acres. Oh! I dare insure her for that; but what I was going to speak of, was her country dancing: ods swimmings! she has such an air with her! A Faulk. Now, disappointment on her! Defend this, Absolute! why don't you defend this? country dances! jigs and reels! Am I to blame now! minuet I could have forgiven; I should not have minded that; I say, I should not have regarded a minuet; but country dances! Zounds! had she made one in a cotillion, I believe I could have forgiven even that; but to be monkey-led for a night! to run the gauntlet through a string of amorous palming puppies!-to shew paces like a mensged filly!-Oh! Jack, there never can be but one man in the world whom a truly modest and delicate woman ought to pair with in a country dance; and, even then, the rest of the couples should be her great uncles and aunts! Capt. A. Ay, to be sure! grandfathers and grand mothers! Faulk. If there be but one vicious mind in the set, it will spread like a contagion: the action of their pulse beats to the lascivious movement of the jig; their quivering, warm-breathed sighs impregnate the air; the atmosphere becomes electrical to love; and each amorous spark darts through every link of the chain! I must leave you; I own I am somewhat flurried! and that confounded looby has perceived it. (Going.) Capt. A. Nay, but stay, Faulkland, and thank Mr. Acres for his good news. [Exit. Faulk. D-n his news! Capt. A. Ha, ha, ha! poor Faulkland! Five minutes since "nothing on earth could give him a Acres. What's the matter with the gentleman? Capt. A. He is only expressing his great satisfac-moment's uneasiness!" tion at hearing that Julia has been so well and happy; that's all;-eh, Faulkland? Faulk. Yes, yes, she has a happy disposition. Acres. That she has, indeed. Then she is so accomplished; so sweet a voice: so expert at her harpsichord; such a mistress of flat and sharp, squallante, rumblante, and quiverante! there was this time month-ods minnums and crotchets! how she did chirrup at Mrs. Piano's concert! (Sings.) "My heart's my own, my will is free." That's very like her. Faulk. Fool! fool that I am! to fix all my happiness on such a trifler! 'Sdeath! to make herself the pipe and ballad-monger of a circle! to sooth her light heart with catches and glees! What can you say to this, sir? Capt. A. Why, that I should be glad to hear my mistress had beeu so merry, sir. Faulk. Nay, nay, nay; I'm not sorry that she has Acres. The gentleman wasn't angry at my praising his mistress, was he? Capt. A. A little jealous, I believe, Bob. Acres. You don't say so? Ha, ha! jealous of me!-that's a good joke! Capt. A. There's nothing strange in that, Bob; let me tell you, that sprightly grace and insinuating manner of yours will do some mischief among the girls here. Acres. Ah, you joke-ha, ha! mischief-ha, ha! but you know I am not my own property! my dear Lydia has forestalled me. She never could abide me in the country, because I used to dress so badly; but, ods frogs and tambours! I shan't take matters so here. Now ancient madam has no voice in it; I'll make my old clothes know who's master! I shall straightway cashier the hunting-frock, and render my leather breeches incapable: my hair has been in training some time. Capt. A. Indeed! have my boy make some figure in the world. I Acres. Ay; and thof the side curls are a little have resolved, therefore, to fix you at once in a restive, my hind part takes it very kindly. noble independence. Capt. A. Oh! you'll polish, I doubt not. Acres. Absolutely I propose so; then, if I can find out this ensign Beverley, ods triggers and flints! I'll make him know the difference o't. Capt. A. Spoke like a man; but, pray, Bob, I observe you have got an odd kind of a new method of swearing Acres. Ha ha! you've taken notice of it; 'tis genteel, isn't it? I didn't invent it myself though; but a commander in our militia, a great scholar, I assure you, says that there is no meaning in the common oaths, and that nothing but their antiquity makes them respectable; because, he says, the ancients would never stick to an oath or two, but would say, by Jove! or by Bacchus! or by Mars! or by Venus! or by Pallas! according to the sentiment: so that, to swear with propriety, says my little major, the oath should be an echo to the sense; and this we call the oath reverential, or sentimental swearing; ha, ha, ha; 'tis genteel, isn't it? Capt. A. Very genteel, and very new, indeed; and, I dare say, will supplant all other figures of imprecation. Acres. Ay, ay, the best terms will grow obsolete damns have had their day. Enter FAG. Fag. Sir, there is a gentleman below desires to see you; shall I shew him into the parlour? Capt. A. Ay, you may. Acres. Well, I must be goneCapt. A. Stay; who is it, Fag? Fag. Your father, sir. Capt. A. Sir, your kindness overpowers me. Yet, sir, I presume you would not wish me to quit the army? Sir Anth. Oh! that shall be as your wife chooses. Capt A. My wife, sir! Sir Anth. Ay, ay, settle that between you; settle that between you. Capt. A. A wife, sir, did you say? Sir Anth. Ay, a wife; why, did not I mention her before? Capt. A. Not a word of her, sir. Sir Anth. Od so! I mustn't forget her thoughYes, Jack, the independence I was talking of is by a marriage; the fortune is saddled with a wife; but I suppose that makes no difference. Capt. A. Sir! sir! you amaze me! Sir Anth. Why, what the devil's the matter with the fool? Just now you were all gratitude and duty. Cap. A. I was, sir; you talked to me of independence and a fortune, but not a word of a wife. Sir Anth. Why, what difference does that make? Ods life, sir! if you have the estate, you must take it with the live stock on it, as it stands. Capt. A. Pray, sir, who is the lady? Sir Anth. What's that to you, sir? Come, give me your promise to love, and to marry her directly, Capt. A. Sure, sir, this is not very reasonable, to summon my affections for a lady I know nothing of! Sir Anth. I am sure, sir, 'tis more unreasonable in you to object to a lady you know nothing of. Capt. A. You must excuse me, sir, if I tell you, once for all, that in this point I cannot obey you. Sir Anth. Harkye, Jack! I have heard you for some time with patience; I have been cool, quite Capt. A. You puppy, why didn't you shew him up directly? [Exit Fag. Acres. You have business with Sir Anthony. I expect a message from Mrs. Malaprop, at my lodg-self, ings. I have sent also to my dear friend, Sir Lucius O'Trigger. Adieu! Jack, we must meet at night, when you shall give me a dozen bumpers to little Lydia. Capt. A. That I will, with all my heart. [Exit Acres.] Now for a parental lecture. I hope he has heard nothing of the business that has brought me here. I wish the gout had held him fast in Devonshire, with all my soul! Enter SIR ANTHONY. Sir, I am glad to see you here, and looking so well! your sudden arrival at Bath made me apprehensive for your health. Sir Anth. Very apprehensive, I dare say, Jack. What, you are recruiting here, eh? Capt. A. Yes, sir, I am on duty. Sir Anth. Well, Jack, I am glad to see you, though I did not expect it; for I was going to write to you on a little matter of business. Jack, I have been considering that I grow old and infirm, and shall probably not trouble you long. Capt. A. Pardon me, sir, I never saw you look more strong and hearty, and I pray fervently that you may continue so. Sir Anth. I hope your prayers may be heard with all my heart. Well then, Jack, I have been considering that I am so strong and hearty, I may continue to plague you a long time. Now, Jack, I am sensible that the income of your commission, and what I have hitherto allowed you, is but a small pittance for a lad of your spirit. Capt. A. Sir, you are very good. Sir Anth. And it is my wish, while yet I live, to cool; but take care; you know I am compliance itwhen I am not thwarted! No one more easily led,-when I have my own way; but don't [not obey you. put me in a phrenzy. Capt. A. Sir, I must repeat it,-in this I canSir Anth. Now, dn me! if ever I call you Jack again, while I live! Capt. A. Nay, sir, but hear me. not one word: so give me your promise by a nod; Sir Anth. Sir, I won't hear a word, not a word; and I'll tell you what, Jack, (I mean, you dog!) if you don't, by- Capt. A. What, sir, promise to link myself to some mass of ugliness! Sir Anth. Zounds! sirrah! the lady shall be as ugly as I choose: she shall have a hump on each shoulder; she shall be as crooked as the crescent; her one eye shall roll like the bull's in Cox's museum; she shall have a skin like a mummy, and the beard of a Jew; she shall be all this, sirrah! yet, I'll make you ogle her all day, and sit up all night to write sonnets on her beauty. Capt. A. This is reason and moderation, indeed! Sir Anth. None of your sneering, puppy!, no grinning, jackanapes! Capt. A. Indeed, sir, I never was in a worse humour for mirth in my life. Sir Anth. "Tis false, sir; I know you are laughing in your sleeve! I know you'll grin when I am gone, sirrah! Capt A. Sir, I hope I know my duty better. Sir Anth. None of your passion, sir! none of your violence, if you please; it won't do with me, I promise you. [life. Capt. A. Indeed, sir, I never was cooler in my Sir Anth. 'Tis a confounded lie! I know you are |