you work against my nature; you would connect me with men I despise, and press me into measures I abhor; for know, sir, that the malignant ferment which the venal ambition of the times provokes in the heads and hearts of other men I detest.

Sir P. What are you about, sir? Malignant ferment and venal ambition! Sır, every man should be ambitious to serve his country, and every man should be rewarded for it: and pray, sir, would nae you wish to serve your country? Answer me that. I say, would nae you wish to serve your country?

Eger. Only show me how I can serve my country, and my life is hers. Were I qualified to lead her armies, to steer her fleets, and to deal her honest vengeance on her insulting foes;-or could my eloquence pull down a state leviathan, mighty by the plunder of his country, black with the treasons of her disgrace, and send his infamy down to a free posterity, as a monumental terror to corrupt ambition, I would be foremost in such service, and act with the unremitting ardour of a Roman spirit. Sir P. Why, are you mad, sir? you have certainly been bit by some mad whig or other. Oh! you are young, vary young in these matters; but experience will convince you, sir, that every man in public business has twa consciences-a religious and a political conscience. Why, you see a merchant now, or a shopkeeper, that kens the science o' the world, always looks upon an oath at a custom-house, or behind the counter, only as an oath in business, a thing of course, a mere thing of course, that has nothing to do with religion; and just so it is at an election: for instance, now, I am a candidate, (pray observe,) and I gang till a periwigmaker, a hatter, or a hosier, and I give ten, twenty, or thraty guineas, for a periwig, a hat, or a pair of hose; and so on, through a majority of voters; vary weel! what is the consequence? why this commercial intercourse, you see, begets a friendship betwixt us, a commercial friendship and in a day or twa, these men gang and give their suffrages; weel! what is the inference? Pray: sir, can you, or any lawyer, divine, or casuist, ca' this a bribe? Nae, sir, in fair political reasoning, it is ainly generosity on the one side, and gratitude on the other. So, sir, let me have nae more of your ligious or philosophical refinements; but prepare, attend, and speak till the question, or you are nae son of mine. Sir, I insist upon it.

Enter SAM.

on this occasion, and tell you at once, that I can no longer dissemble the honest passion that fills my heart for another woman,

Sir P. How! another woman? and, you villain! how dare you love another woman without my leave? But what other woman? what is she? Speak, sir, speak.

Eger. Constantia.

Sir P. Constantia! Oh, you profligate! What, a creature taken in for charity!

Eger. Her poverty is not her crime, sir, but her misfortune: her birth is equal to the noblest; therefore, sir—

Sir P. Haud your jabbering, you villain! haud your jabbering; none of your romance nor refinement till me. I have but one question to ask you; but one question, and then I have done with you for ever for ever; therefore, think before you answer: will you marry the lady, or will you break my heart?

Eger. Sir, my presence shall not offend you any longer; but when reason and reflection take their turn, I am sure you will not be pleased with your self for this unparental passion. (Going.)

Sir P. Tarry, I command you; and I command you, likewise, not to stir till you have given me an answer-a definitive answer: will you marry the lady, or will you not?

Eger. Since you command me, sir-know, then, that I cannot, will not marry her. [Exit. Sir P. Oh! the villain has shot me through the head! he has cut my vitals! I shall run distracted! the fellow destroys a' my measures, a' my schemes: there never was sic a bargain as I have made with this foolish lord; possession of his whole estate, with three boroughs upon it-six members. Why, what an acquisition! what consequence! what dignity! what weight till the house of Macsycophant! Ó, d-n the fellow! three boroughs, only for sending down six broomsticks! O, miserable! O, miserable! ruined! undone! For these five-and-twenty years, ever since this fellow came intill the world, have I been secretly prepar ing him for ministerial dignity; and, with the fellow's eloquence, abilities, popularity, these boroughs, and proper connexions, he might cerre-tainly, in a little time, have done the deed: and sure never were times so favourable, every thing conspires, for a' the auld political post-horses are broken-winded and foundered, and cannot get on; and as till the rising generation, the vanity of surpassing one another in what they foolishly call taste and elegance, binds them hand and foot in the chains of luxury, which will always set them up till the best bidder; so that, if they can but get wherewithal to supply their dissipation, a minister may convert the political morals of a' sie voluptuaries, intill a vote that would sell the nation till Prester John, and their boasted liberties till the great Mogul. [Exit.

Sam. Sir, my lord says the writings are now ready; and his lordship and the lawyers are waiting for you and Mr. Egerton.

Sir P. Vary weel, we'll attend his lordship. [Exit Sam.] Come, sir, let us gang down and finish this business.

Eger. [Stopping Sir P. as he is going off) Sir, with your permission, I beg you will first hear a word or two upon this subject.

Sir P. Woel, sir, what would you say? Eger. I have often resolved to let you know my aversion to this match

Sir P, How, sir?

Eger. But my respect, and fear of disobliging you, have hitherto kept me silent.

Sir P. Your aversion!-your aversion, sir! How dare you use sic language to me? Your aversion! Lookye, sir; I shall cut the matter vary short: consider, my fortune is nae inheritance; a' mine ain acquisition; I can make ducks and drakes of it; so do not provoke me, but sign the articles directly.

Eger. I beg your pardon, sir, but I must be free

ACT V.

SCENE L-A Library.

Enter SIR PERTINAX and BETTY HINT. Sir P. Come this way, Betty; come this way: you are a guid girl, and I will reward you for this discovery. Oh, the villain! offer her marriage!

Betty. It is true, indeed, sir; I would not tell your honour a lie for the world; but, in truth, it lay upon my conscience, and I thought it my duty to tell your worship.

Sir P. You are right, you are right; it was your duty to tell me, and I'll reward you for it. But you say Maister Sidney is in love with her too; pray how came you with that intelligence?

Betty. O, sir, I know wher folks are in love, let them strive to hide it as much as they will. I know it by Mr. Sidney's eyes, when I see him stealing a sly look at her; by his trembling-his breathing short; his sighing when they are reading together. Besides, sir, he has made love-verses upon her, in praise of her virtue, and her playing upon the music. Ay; and I suspect another thing, sir; she has a sweetheart, if not a husband, not far from hence. Sir P. Wha, Constantia?

which he dissipated and melted in feastings, and friendships, and charities, and hospitalities, and sic kind of nonsense: but to the business. Maister Sidney, I love you; yes, I love you; and I have been looking out, and contriving how to settle you in the world. Sir, I want to see you comfortably and honourably fixed at the head of a respectable family; and guin you were mine ain son a thousand times, I cou'd nae make a more valuable present till you for that purpose, as a partner for life, than this same Constantia, with sic a fortune down with her as you yourself shall deem to be competent, and an assurance of every canonical contingency in my

Betty. Ay, Constantia, sir. Lord, I can know the whole affair, sir, only for sending over to Hadley, to farmer Hilford's youngest daughter, Sukey Hilford. Sir P. Then send this instant, and get me a par-power to confer or promote. ticular account of it.

Betty. That I will, sir.

Sir P. In the meantime, keep a strict watch upon Constantia; and be sure you bring me word of whatever new matter you can pick up about her, my son, or this Hadley husband or sweetheart. Betty. Never fear, sir.

[Exit. Sir P. This love of Sidney's for Constantia is not unlikely. There is something promising in it. Yes, I think it is nae impossible to convert it into a special and immediate advantage. It is but trying. Wha's there? If it misses, I am but where I was. Enter TOMLINS.

Where is Maister Sidney?

Tom. In the dining-room, Sir Pertinax. Sir P. Tell him I would speak with him. [Exit Tomlins.] 'Tis more than probable. Spare to speak, and spare to speed. Try, try, always try the human heart; try is as guid a maxim in politics as in war. Why, suppose, this Sidney, now, should be privy till his friend Charles's love for Constantia, what then? guid trath, it is natural to think that his ain love will demand the preference; ay, and obtain it, too. Yes; self, self is an eloquent advocate on these occasions, and seldom loses his cause. I hae the general principle of human nature, at least to encourage me in the experiment; for only make it a man's interest to be a rascal, and I think we may safely depend upon his integrity-in serving himself. Enter SIDNEY.

Sid. Sir Pertinax, your servant. Mr. Tomlins told me you desired to speak with me.

Sir P. Yes, I wanted to speak with you upon a vary singular business. Maister Sidney, give me your hand. Guin it did nae look like flattery, which I detest, I would tell you, Maister Sidney, that you are an honour till your cloth, your country, and till human nature.

Sid. Sir, you are very obliging.

Sir P. Sit you down, Maister Sidney; sit you down here by me. (They sit.) My friend, I am under the greatest obligations till you for the care you have taken of Charles. The principles, religious, moral and political, that you have infused intill him, demand the warmest return of gratitude both fra him and fra me.

Sid. Your approbation, sir, next to that of my own conscience, is the best test of my endeavours, and the highest applause they can receive.

Sid. Sir, your offer is noble and friendly; but though the highest station would derive lustre from Constantia's charms and worth, yet, were she more amiable than love could paint her in the lover's fancy, and wealthy beyond the thirst of the miser's appetite, I could not, would not wed her. (Rises.) Sir P. Not wed her! odswounds, man! you surprise me! Why so-what hinders?

Sid. I beg you will not ask a reason for my refusal; but, briefly and finally, it cannot be; nor is it a subject I can long converse upon.

Sir P. Weel, weel, weel, sir! I have done, I have done. (Sidney sits down.) Sit you down, mon; sit you down again; sit you down; I shall mention it no more: not but I must confess honestly till you, friend Sidney, that the match, had you consented to my proposal, besides profiting you, would have been of singular service till me likewise. However, you may still serve me as effectually as if you had married her.

Sid. Then, sir, I am sure I will, most heartily. Sir P. I believe it, friend Sidney; and I thank you: I have nae friend to depend upon but yourself. My heart is almost broke; I cannot help these tears. And, to tell you the fact at once, your friend Charles is struck with a most dangerous malady-a kind of insanity. You see I cannot help weeping when I think of it; in short, this Constantia, I am afraid, has cast an evil eye upon him. Do you understand me?

Sid. Not very well, sir.

Sir P. Why, he is grievously smitten with the love of her; and, I am afraid, will never be cured without a little of your assistance.

Sid. Of my assistance! pray, sir, in what manner? Sir P. In what manner? lord! Maister Sidney, how can you be so dull? Now then, my vary guid friend, guin you would but give him that hint, and take an opportunity to speak a good word for him intill the wench; and guin you would likewise cast about a little, now, and contrive to bring them together once: why, in a few days after, he would nae care a pinch of snuff for her. (Sidney starts up.) What is the matter with you, mon? What the devil gars you start, and look so astounded?

Sid. Sir, you amaze me! In what part of my mind or conduct have you found that baseness, which entitles you to entreat me with this indignity?

Sir P. Indignity! What indignity do you mean, sir? Is asking you to serve a friend with a wench an indignity? Sir, am I not your patron, and bene

Sir P. Sir, you deserve it; richly deserve it. And now, sir, the same care that you have had of Charles, the same my wife hae taken of her favour-factor, eh? ite Constantia; and sure, never were accomplishments, knowledge, or principles, social and religious, infused intill a better nature.

Sid. In truth, sir, I think so too.

Sir P. She is besides a gentlewoman, and of as guid a family as any in this country. Sid. So I understand, sir.

Sid, You are, sir, and I feel your bounty at my heart; but the virtuous gratitude that sowed the deep sense of it there, does not inform me that, in return, the tutor's sacred function, or the social virtue of the man, must be debased into the pupil's pander, or the patron's prostitute.

Sir P. (Rising.) How! what, sir? do you dis

Sir P. Sir, her father had a vast estate; the pute? Are you nae my dependant, eh? and do you

hesitate about an ordinary civility, which is practised every day by men and women of the first fashion? Sir, let me tell you, however nice you may be, there is nae a client about the court that would nae jump at sic an opportunity to oblige his patron.

Sid. Indeed, sir, I believe the doctrine of pimping for patrons, as well as that of prostituting eloquence and public trust for private lucre, may be learned in your party schools: for, where faction and public venality are taught as measures necessary to good government and general prosperity, there every vice is to be expected.

Sir P. Oho! oho! vara weel, vara weel; fine slander upon ministers! fine sedition against government! O, ye villain! You-you-you are a black sheep, and I'll mark you. I am glad you shew yourself. Yes, yes; you have taken off the mask at last: you have been in my service for many years, and I never knew your principles before.

Sid. Sir, you never affronted them before; if you had, you should have known them sooner.

Sir P. It is vara weel; I have done with you. Ay, ay; now I can account for my son's conduct: his aversions till courts, till ministers, levees, public business, and his disobedience till my commands. Ah! you are a Judas-a perfidious fellow: you have ruined the morals of my son, you villain! But I have done with you. However, this I will prophecy at our parting, for your comfort, that guin you are so very squeamish about bringing a lad and a lass together, or about doing sic an a harmless, innocent job for your patron, you will never rise in the church.

Enter JOHN, with a packet and a letter.
John. (Putting the packet into his pocket.) There, go
you into my pocket. There's no body in the library
so I'll e'en go through the short way. Let me see
what is the name?-Mel-Meltil-O, no! Mel-
ville, at Gaffer Hodge's.

Sir P. What letter is that, sir?
John. Letter, sir!

Sir P. Give it me,

sir.

John. An't please you, sir, it is not mine. Sir P. Deliver it this instant, sirrah, or I'll break your head.

John. There, there, your honour.

Sir P. Begone, rascal. This, I suppose, will let us intill the whole business.

John. (Aside.) You have got the letter, old Surly, but the packet is safe in my pocket. I'll go and deliver that, however, for I will be true to poor Mrs. Constantia in spite of you. [Exit.

Sir P. (Reading a letter.) Um-um-" and bless mine eyes with a sight of you."-Um-um-" throw myself into your dear arms." Zoons! this letter is invaluable. Aha, madam! yes, this will do; this will do, I think. Let me see how it is directed"To Mr. Melville." Vary weel.

Enter BETTY.

O, Betty, you are an excellant wench; this letter is worth a million.

Betty. Is it as I suspected-to her gallant? Sir P. It is, it is. Bid Constantia pack out of the house this instant; and let them get a chaise ready to carry her wherever she pleases. But first send my wife and son hither.

Betty. I shall, sir.

Sir P. Do so; begone! [Exit Betty.] Aha, Maister Charles! I believe I shall cure you of your passion for a beggar now. I think he cannot 1 so enfatuated as to be a dupe. Let me see, how am I to act now? Why, like a true politician, I must pretend most sincerity where I intend most deceit.

Sid. Though my conduct, sir, should not make me rise in her power, I am sure it will in her favour; in the favour of my own conscience, too, and in the esteem of all worthy men; and that, sir, is a power and dignity beyond what patrons, or any minister can bestow. [Exit. Sir P. What a rigorous, saucy, stiff-necked rascal it is! I see my folly now; I am undone by mine ain policy. This Sidney is the last man that should have been about my son. The fellow, indeed, hath given him principles that might have done vary weel among the ancient Romans, but are d-d unfit for the modern Britons. Weel, guin I had a thousand sons, I never would suffer one of these English university-bred fellows to be about a son of mine again; for they have sic an a pride of literature and character, and sic saucy English notions of liberty continually fermenting in their thoughts, that a mon is never sure of them. But what am I to do?-Zoons! he must nae marry this beggar; I cannot set down tamely under that. Stay! haud a wee: By tue blood, I have it! yes, II find this Constantia has got hold of your heart, have hit upon it.

Enter BETTY HINT.

Betty. O, sir! I have got the whole secret out.
Sir P. About what?

Betty. About Miss Constantia. I have just got all the particulars from farmer Hilford's youngest daughter, Sukey Hilford.

Sir P. Weel, weel; but what is the story? quick, quick; what is it?

Betty. Why, sir, it is certain that Mrs. Constantia has a sweetheart, or a husband; a sort of gentleman, or gentleman's gentleman, they don't know which, that lodges at Gaffer Hodges: for Sukey says she saw them together last night, in the dark walk, and Mrs. Constantia was all in tears.

Sir P. Zoons! I am afraid this is too gude news to be true.

Betty. O sir, 'tis certainly true. Besides, sir,

Enter EGERTON aud LADY MACSYCOPHANT. Weel, Charles, notwithstanding the misery you have brought upon me, I have sent for you and your mother, in order to convince you both of my affection and my readiness to forgive; nay, and even to indulge your perverse passion. Sir, since

and that your mother and you think that you can never be happy without her, why, I'll nae longer oppose your inclinations.

Eger. Dear sir, you snatch me from the sharpest misery; on my knees, let my heart thank you for this goodness.

Lady M. Let me express my thanks, too, and my joy; for, had you not consented to his marrying her, we all should have been miserable.

Sir P. Weel, I am glad I have found a way to please you both at last. But, my dear Charles, suppose, now, that this spotless vestal-this wonder of virtue-this idol of your heart, should be a concealed wanton after a'? or should have an engagement of marriage, or an intrigue with another man, and is only making a dupe of you a' this time; I say, only suppose it, Charles-what would you think of her?

Eger. I should think her the most deceitful, and

Sir P. Enough; I am satisfied: you make me young again. Your prudence has brought tears of joy fra my very vitals. I was afraid you were fas- Tom. He looks something like one, sir-a sort of einated with the charms of a crack. Do you ken a gentleman; but he seems to be in a kind of a pasEger. Mighty well, sir. [this hand?sion; for when I asked his name, he answered Sir. P. And you, madam? [stantia's. hastily. "It is no matter, friend; go tell your master, Lady M. As well as I do my own, sir; it is Con- there is a gentleman here that must speak to him Sir. P. It is so; and a better evidence it is, than directly." any that can be given by the human tongue. Here is a warm, rapturous, lascivious letter, under the hypocritical syren's ain hand-her ain hand, sir. Ay, ay; here, take and read it yourself.