Keck. Not at all; the more tongue the better, say I. Wid. When the wind changes I have no brogue at all, at all. But come, Mr. Whittol, don't let us be vulgar and talk of our poor relations. It is impossible to be in this metropolis of London, and have any thought but of operas, plays, masquerades, and pantaons, to keep up one's spirits in the winter; and Vauxhall fireworks to cool and refresh one in the sammer.-La, la, la! [Sings Whit. I protest she puts me into a sweat; we shall have a mob about us.

Keck. The more the merrier, I say—who's afraid?

Wid. How the people stare! as if they never saw a woman's voice before; but my vivacity has got the better of my good manners. This, I suppose, this strange gentleman is a near friend and relation, and as such, notwithstanding his apparance, I shall always trate him, though I might dislike him upon a nearer acquaintance.

Keck. Madam, you do me honour; I like your frankness, and I like your person, and I envy my friend Whittle; and if you were not engaged, and I were not married, I would endeavour to make myself agreeable to you, that I would-hugh, hugh!

Wid. And indeed, sir, it would be very agrable to me; for if I did hate you as much as did my first dare husband, I should always have the comfort, that in all human probability my torments would not last long.

Keck. She utters something more than monosyllables, friend; this is better than bargain: She has a fine bold way of talking.

Whit. More bold than welcome! I am struck all of a beap.

Wid. What are you low-spirited, my dare Mr. Whittol?" When you were at Scarborough, and winning my affections, you were all mirth and gaiety; and now you have won me, you are as thoughtful about it as if we had been married some time.

Whit. Indeed, madain, I can't but say I am a little thoughtful-we take it by turns; you were very sorrow

ful a month ago for the loss of your husband, and that you could dry up your tears so soon, naturally makes me a little thoughtful.

Wid. Indeed I could dry up my tears for a dozen husbands when I was sure of having a tirteenth like Mr. Whittol; that's very natural sure both in England and Dublin too.

Keck. She won't die of a consumption; she has a fine full-ton'd voice, and you'll be very happy, TomHugh, hugh!

Whit. O yes, very happy.

Wid. But come, don't let us be melancholy before the time: I am sure I have been mop'd up for a year and a half-I was oblig'd to mourn for my first husband, that I might be sure of a second; and my father kept my spirits in subjection, as the best receipt (he said) for changing a widow into a wife; but now I have my arms and legs at liberty, I must and will have my swing: now I am out of my cage I could dance two nights together, and a day too, like any singing bird; and I'm in such spirits that I have got rid of my father, I could fly over the moon without wings, and back again, before dinner. Bless my eyes, and don't I see there miss Nancy O'Flarty, and her brother, captain O'Flarty? He was one of my dying Strephons at Scarborough-I have a very grate regard for him, and must make him a little miserable with my happiness. [Courtesies] Come along, skips, [To the Servants] don't you be gostring there; show your liveries, and bow to your master that is to be, and to his friend, and hold up your heads, and trip after me as lightly as if you had no legs to your feet. I shall be with you again, jontlemen, in the crack of a fan-0, I'll have a husband, ay, [Exit singing, followed by Footmen. Keck. A fine buxom widow, faith! no acquaintance -delicate reserve-mopes at home-forc'd into the air -inclin❜d to a consumption-What a description you gave of your wife! Why she beats my Sally, Tom.

marry.

Whit. Yes, and she'll beat me if I don't take care! What a change is here! I must turn about, or this will turn

my head. Dance for two nights together, and leap over the moon! you shall dance and leap by yourself, that I am resolv'd.

Keck. Here she comes again; it does my heart good to see her-You are in luck, Tom.

Whit. I'd give a finger to be out of such luck.

Re-enter WIDOW, &c.

Wid. Ha, ha, ha! the poor captain is marched off in a fury: He can't bear to hear that the town has capitulated to you, Mr. Whittol. I have promised to introduce him to you. He will make one of my danglers to take a little exercise with me, when you take your nap in the afternoon.

Whit. You shan't catch me napping, I assure you. What a discovery and escape I have made! I tremble with the thought of my danger!

[Aside.

Keck. I protest, cousin, there goes my wife, and her friend, Mr. Mac Brawn. What a fine stately couple they are! I must after 'em, and have a laugh with them -now they giggle and walk quick, that I may'nt overtake 'em. Madam, your servant. You're a happy man, Tom. Keep up your spirits, old boy. Hugh, hugh! -Who's afraid? [Exit.

Wid. I know Mr. Mac Brawn extremely well-He was very intimate at our house, in my first husband's time; a great comfort he was to me to be sure! He would very often leave his claret and companions for a little conversation with me. He was bred at the Dublin university, and being a very deep scholar, has fine talents for a late-a-tate.

Whit. She knows him too! I shall have my house overrun with the Mac Brawns, O'Shoulders, and the blood of the Backwells. Lord have mercy upon me! [Aside.

Wid. Pray, Mr. Whittol, is that poor spindle-legged crater of a cousin of yours lately married? ha, ha, ha I don't pity the poor crater his wife, for that agrable cough of his will soon reward her for all her sufferings. Whit. What a delivery! a reprieve before the knot * was tied.

[Aside.

Wid. Are you unwell, Mr. Whittol? I should be sorry you would fall sick before the happy day. Your being in danger afterwards would be a great consolation to me, because I should have the pleasure of nursing you myself.

Whit. I hope never to give you that trouble, ma

dam.

Wid. No trouble at all, at all; 1 assure you, sir, from my soul, that I shall take great delight in the occasion. Whit. Indeed, madam, I believe it.

Wid. I don't care how soon, the sooner the better; and the more danger the more honour; I spake from my heart.

Whit. And so do I from mine, madam. [Sighs. Wid. But don't let us think of future pleasure and neglect the present satisfaction. My mantua-maker is waiting for me to choose my clothes, in which I shall forget the sorrows of Mrs. Brady, in the joys of Mrs. Whittol. Though I have no fortune myself, I shall bring a tolerable one to you, in debts, Mr. Whittol, and which I will pay you tinfold in tenderness; your deep purse, and my open heart, will make us the envy of the little grate ones, and the grate little ones; the people of quality with no souls, and grate souls with no cash at all. I hope you'll meet me at the Pantaon this evening. Lady Rantiton and her daughter, miss Nettledown and Nancy Tittup, with half a dozen maccaroonies, and two savoury vivers, are to take me there, and we propose a grate deal of chat and merriment, and dancing all night, and all other kind of recreations. I am quite another kind of a crator, now I am a bird in the fields; I can junket about a week together; [ have a fine constitution, and am never molested with your nasty vapours; are you ever troubled with vapours, Mr. Whittol?

Whit. A little now and then, madain.

Wid. I'll rattle 'em away like smoke! there are no vapours where I come; I hate your dumps, and your nerves, and your megrims; and I had much rather break your rest with a little racketting, than let any thing get into your head that should not be there, Mr. Whittol.

Whit. I will take care that nothing shall be in my head, but what ought to be there. What a deliverance! [Aside.

Wid. [Looking at her Watch] Bless me! how the hours of the clock creep away when we are plas'd with our company: but I must lave you, for there are half a hundred people waiting for me to pick your pocket, Mr. Whittol; and there is my own brother, lieutenant O'Neale, is to arrive this morning, and he is so like me you would not know us asunder when we are together; you will be very fond of him, poor lad! he lives by his wits, as you do by your fortune, and so you may assist one another. Mr. Whittol, your obadient, till we meet at the Pantaon. Follow me, Pompey; and, skips, do you follow him.

Pomp. The Baccararo whiteman not let blacky boy go first after you, missis, they pull and pinch me.

Foot. It is a shame, your ladyship, that a black negro should take place of English christians-we can't follow him, indeed.

Wid. Then you may follow one another out of my sarvice; if you follow me, you shall follow him, for he shall go before ine; therefore resign as fast as you plase; you shan't oppose government and keep your places too, that is not good politics in England or Ireland either, so come along, Pompey, be after going before ine-Mr. Whittol, most tenderly yours.

[Exeunt Widow and Attendants. Whit. Most tenderly yours! [Mimicks her] 'Ecod, I believe you are, and any body's else. O what an escape have I had! But how shall I clear myself of this business? I'll serve her as I would bad money, put her off into other hauds: my nephew is fool enough to be in love with her, and if I give him a fortune he'll take the good and the bad together-he shall do so or starve. I'll send for Bates directly, confess my folly, ask his pardon, send him to my nephew, write and declare off with the widow, and so get rid of her tinderness as fast as I can.

[Exit.