was? Cha. Man. He was. sand ifs besides were all to prove realities, a to shew you into another apartment. [She stops.] happy alliance might succeed; but to be turned-Was young Mr Manlove at Rome when you into a room to undergo the profest survey of a man, who comes upon a visit of liking, is insupportably humiliating. It may well be said of some fathers, that they drive a Smithfield bargain for their daughters, when, with butcher-like insensibility they shew them out for sale like cattle in a market. LUCY returns. Lucy. The gentleman presents his respects to you, and desires you to peruse this letter; I think he is altogether as personable a young man as I could wish to sce. [Gives the letter. Let. Sure you forget yourself! Let me see from Counsellor Manlove! What is this? 6 'Madam, The bearer of this letter is a young man in whose prosperity I am warmly interested. He is lately returned from Italy, where he has 'made some proficiency in the art of which you are a mistress; and as I flatter myself you will find him not unworthy, I beg leave to recom'mend him to your protection and esteem.When my nephew has the honour of being 'known to you, he can give you fuller satisfaction in this young man's particular than I can; in the mean time I venture to add, that Mr "Manlove will consider every favour you bestow in this instance, as conferred upon himself. I have the honour to be, madam, 'Your most obedient, 'And most humble servant, "CHARLES MANLOVE.' Where is the gentleman? Introduce him directly. [Exit Lucy. Re-enter Lucy with CHARLes. Let. Your humble servant, sir: you are the gentleman referred to in this letter?Cha. Man. I am the person, madam. lovely young woman! What a [Aside. Let. You are lately from Italy: where did you principally pursue your studies? Cha. Man. At Rome: I visited Florence, Bologna, Venice, and other places; but I regard Rome as the grand repository of the antique, and for that reason I made my principal residence there. Let. To what branch of the art did you chiefly direct your attention? Cha. Man. To the study of beauty, madam; and that in its simplest forms: a Laocoon, a Hercules, or a Caracalla may astonish; but it is a Faustina, a Venus, an Apollo that delights, that ravishes-But I am speaking to you on a subject of which you are both by art a mistress, and an example by nature. Let. Upon my word!--[Aside.]—Come, sir: we are here in the way of the fainily: allow me Let. I understand he has a very great regard for you. Cha. Man, I hope I shall not forfeit his good opinion. Let. It does you much honour: all the world speaks highly of Mr Manlove. I'll shew you the Exit. Cha. Man. Charming girl! I am in love with her at first sight. [Exit. way. Lucy. So, so! a very promising beginning. As sure as can be, there's something in the wind about this Manlove: I suspect the letter to be a fetch; and, as for this painter, I am mistaken if he is not some how or other in the secret 'tis a mighty pretty fellow.-Ah, brother Dibble, I am glad to see you. How goes the world with you? Enter DIBBle. Dib. Busily, my girl, busily. I have borrowed a moment's time from company to run to you: I have luckily found you alone: utter not a word; be all attention: Jack Nightshade, the country boy I made acquaintance with last year, is now in town; but not a word of that he is at a tavern hard by, with some lads of mettle, who push about the glass. What say you, hussy, to a bold stroke for a husband? Lucy. For a husband! You are joking. Dib. Serious, upon my honour! Oh, when the blood begins to boil, and the brain begins to turn, every thing may be attempted. He has signified to me that he is in want of a wife; you, I suppose, have no objection to a husband? so far you are both of a mind. He says the lady must be rich; the condition is a reasonable one, and you must provide a fortune for the purpose. What say you to your mistress's? He visits you in the name of Mr Manlove; why may not you receive him in that of Miss Fairfax? Lucy. Impossible! Don't you know his father lodges in this very house? Dib. Scare boys with bug-bears: I have provided against danger; and with a promise of a good round sum, upon the wedding night, have made old Gregory my own: He will aid our project, and keep watch upon old Surly-boots, I warrant you. Lucy. But what is gained, if we should compass our ends? the young man is a minor, and his father would disinherit him. Dib. Fear nothing--he's of age-Gregory confirms it: And as for his father's disinheriting him, I'll tell you a secret; it is not in his power: When the counsellor settled an estate on Charles, old Nightshade cut him off with a shilling, and gave his fortune to Jack: I drew the deed myself; it is as tight as the law can tye it. Lucy. No, brother; I've as much ambition as my betters, so here's my hand-I'm with you-Lucy. I don't know what to say; a settle-give me half an hour's time to con my lesson, and ment to be sure is something; Mrs Night- I'll be ready for you. shade and an equipage, is better than plain Lucy and a pair of pattens: But then my heart misgives me and the boy, they say, is such a cub Dib. That's my brave girl! Courage! the day's our own. If every thing's in train, and the coast clear, let Gregory meet us at the corner of the street, exactly in half an hour's time. But, Dib. Fine airs in truth! Nay, if you are so ex-bark'e, Lucy, Jack is incog, and takes his brother ceptious, please yourself; 'tis no affair of mine; I've done with it. Lucy. Hold, hold; you are so touchy if one speaks--My madam must be monstrous angry, but no matter. Yesterday was married John Nightshade, esq. to Miss. O Gemini! 'twill make a flaming dash! Dib. Ay, ay, leave me to draw the marriage deeds I'll jointure you, I warrant. Come, decide; time's precious, and the moment serves; Old Nightshade's out; the ladies too, I understand are on the wing-When shall we come? Lucy. When? I don't know-I vow I'm half afraid-Is there no law against me, if I'm caught, and the scheme fails? Dib. Pshaw! you are so irresolute; even be a servant-maid all the days of your life; I care not. Manlove's name, remember that: By the way, I suspect something's in the wind between your madam and Mr Charles. Lucy. Why so? Dib. Because I saw him turn into her room just now, in an undress; he passed me on the stairs, and whispered me in the ear, not to open my lips concerning his being here to a single soul, for my life; therefore make no mischief ---Farewell, I must be gone. [Exit. Lucy. Your humble servant, virtuous Miss Letitia Fairfax; your painter then, as I suspected, turns out a lover in disguise; and you, it seems, have your intrigues as well as other folks. Who would be nice about character in these times, when all the world conspires to put virtue out of countenance, and keep vice in? [Erit. ACT III. SCENE I.- A Room in STAPLETON's house. Enter MR ANDREW NIGHTSHADE and STAPLE TON. ter Stapleton, that speculation of mine in saltpetre. Stap. I believe it turned to tolerable account. A. Night. I believe it did; I may venture to assure you it did, to tolerable account, as you A. Night. AND so you'll positively ship those say, though you predicted otherwise; it made bales of Norwich crape for Holland? Stap. I purpose so to do. A. Night. You purpose so to do! and the kersies and callimancoes, and perpetuanos too, I warrant? Stap. I do. A. Night. The devil you do! I tell you what then, Master Stapleton, they will not have their name for nothing; you will find them perpetuanoes on your hands: I'd send tea to America as soon. Why sure I understand the Dutch market; sure I think I do; you've found I understand them. my pillow for me; yes, yes, thank Heaven, I'm easy: I've laid down my cares. Stap. And taken up content. What a happy fellow are you, friend Andrew! A. Night. But I tell you, you're mistaken, I am not a happy fellow; I would not be thought happy; the world's too wicked for an honest man to be happy or contented in it. Stap. But you are out of the world; you are settled in a peaceful retreat, in rural tranquillity, cultivating your own acres, enjoying your own produce. A. Night. Blood and fire, I tell you other people are enjoying my produce! my servants are embezzling my property, my neighbours are destroying my game, the vermin are laying waste my granaries, and the rot is making havock with my sheep; and how the vengeance, then, can I happy? Stap. But times are altered, friend Andrew. A. Night. With the devil to them! Times are altered truly, and trade is altered, and merchants are altered, and grown obstinate blockheads, deaf to good counsel, ignorant of their business; a frivolous, gossiping, pleasure-hunt-be ing crew; forsaking their counters for their country-houses, Change for Change Alley.What sort of a season at Newfoundland? have A. Night. Patient! I am patient to a fault. you shipped your fish yet for the Mediterrane- Stap. By reflecting when your servants or an markets? But what is it all to me? I have neighbours molest you, what an exemplary young wound up my bottom: 'Twas a noble hit, Mas-man you are blest with for a son. Stap. By bearing every thing with a patient mind. A Night. Yes, yes; the boy's as good as his | Manchester and Norwich commodities? There neighbours. Stap. I never heard so universal a good cha racter. A. Night. 'Tis a sober, frugal lad, that's the truth on't. lies your learning; those are your universities. Stap. Andrew Nightshade, Andrew Nightshade, recollect yourself! We'll converse when you are cool; I talk to no man in a passion. Stap. So accomplished a genius--so distinguish-was ever told so, and shall be the last, from you, ed a taste for the fine arts! A. Night. For the fine arts! that's rather too much: I know no art Jack has, but setting trimmers, worming puppies, and making fowling nets. [Aside. Stap. Your son, friend Andrew, is not like the present frippery race of young men; he is a man of sound principle, and good morals; no libertine, no free-thinker, no gamester. A. Night. Gamester indeed! I'd game him, with the devil to him! Stap. He has more elegant resources: The woman must be happy who can engage his affections. A. Night. I wish your ward, Miss Fairfax, was of your opinion. Stap. Are you sincere? A. Night. I in a passion! 'Tis the first time I at least. Here, Gregory, where are you?-Ili be gone this instant; I'll have my things packed up; I'll rid your house, at least, of one passionate man. I in a passion! I, that never lost ny temper-But your servant, sir: your servant, Mr Stapleton: Perhaps you'll say I'm in a passion now. Here, Gregory! why, Gregory! Exit. Stap. Ha, ha, ha! of a certain, Andrew, thou art a ridiculous old fellow! If I had an acquaintance with the poets, I would get them to exhibit thy humours on the stage; 'twould be a diverting scene, and no bad moral.' Enter MRS STAPLETON and LETITIA. Mrs Stap. Here's a fine storm! he's calling for his servant to pack up his things; he vows A. Night. Why, to be sure I am. Don't I know he'll quit the house immediately. she'll have a very considerable fortune? Let. A happy resolution! What a snapdragon is! No Yorkshire housewife, in her washing week, can be more peevish. Stap. A fig for her fortune!--here's my hand--it so the young folks can like each other, and Mr Manlove is consenting A. Night. Who? who is consenting? Mr Manlove? Stap. Ay, surely; I'm afraid we do not rightly understand each other: Which of your sons are you speaking of? A. Night. Which of my sons am I speaking of? the only one I ever do speak of; the only one which I acknowledge-Jack. You couldn't think me such a fool to recommend that puppily, pig-tailed ape, with his essences and pulvilios that monkey, whom my silly brother sent to see the world, with his grand tour, and his pictures, and his impertinences? No; I tell you once for ail, I've done with him; he has dropt my name, and I my nature; let him that christened him anew, keep him---I have done with him! Stap. You shock me to hear you say so! A. Night. What! shan't I speak of my own son as I think fit? Stap. Yes, if you speak as a father should. A. Night. And who's the judge of that? Have you a son? Are you a father? No, you are a guardian: Heaven help the poor young woman that is your ward! Marry her to Charles Manlove! Marry her to her garters sooner, and tie her up upon the curtain rod ! 'twere a better deed. And what know you of the fine arts? Are you a painter as well as your ward here? I see no tokens of it: the London 'prentice and the March to Finchly, seem to be the sum-total of your collection. His taste, it seems, has captivated you. His taste for what? for camblets, for caloys, for VOL. II. Mrs Stap. I wish he was out of the house; I Let. A brother artist, and a friend of Mr Man- Let. Oh, sir, he is the prettiest man! so candid, so intelligent! full of his art, and glowing warm with all that taste for the antique, which true genius is sure to gain by travel! Stap. Ay, ay; I understand you; he's been praising your performances. Let. I own it; but, what flatters me above all, he commends your portrait exceedingly: I shall proceed in it with twice the spirit I began. Mrs Stap. He has turned her head with flattery; the grace of Raphael, the design of Michael Angelo, Titian's warmth, and Corregio's beauty, centre all in her unrivalled compositions! Stap. Hey-day! where learnt you all this gabble? here's a pack of names for a citizen's wife to get by heart! Mrs Stap. Do you think I've cleaned her pallet, then, for nothing? The doctor's Merry-Andrew knows the names of his drugs, or he's not fit for his place. We are going this instant upon a visit of virtû to Mr Manlove's: This young painter speaks in raptures of his collection: He has some pictures which are said to be inimitable. Let. Dear sir, I hope you've no objection. He 6 Q has talked to me so much of a Lucretia by Gui- | do, that I am dying to visit her. Stap. I should doubt, if Lucretia would do as much for you. I hardly think, that this visit is in rule. Let. It is done every day; half the town has been there: I go there as a student-Besides, Mrs Stapleton goes with me. Stap. Well, well; I am no critic in these matters: entertain yourselves, and you have my free leave. Much pleasure to you both-your ser[Exit. Let. Come, my dear madam, the light still serves us; let us lose no time. [Exeunt. vant. SCENE II. The painting-room. Enter Lucy. Lucy. Now, the deuce fetch this madcap brother of nine; what a twitter has he thrown me into! I can settle to nothing: Madam, and her sham painter have made a fine disorder in this room. I don't know any use these geniuses are of, but to put every thing out of its place. Ah! is it you? Enter DIBBLE. Dib. Hush, hush! compose yourself; you had like to have ruined all: Why didn't you send Gregory to the street's end, as you agreed? Lucy. Lud, I'm in such a flutter!—I don't know, I'm frighted. Is he here? Dib. Ready Primed high with brisk Champaigne: The train is laid; you have the fire; touch it, and off it goes. Lucy. Fire! I've no fire about me. Did the servant see you? Dib. No; Gregory let us in, and has the young 'squire now in keeping. There never was so fortupate a moment. Hark! he's at the door. Jack. [From without.] Hist! Lawyer-Pickle ---Bully Jack!--shall I come in? Dib. He must come in. Slip out a moment till I prepare him; and then---remember Lucy, he is Mr Manlove here, and yourself Letitia. Go your ways. [Exit Lucy.] Now, my lad of glory, I shall show you a phenomenon, a star of the first water. charged at heart and head--one for courage, and t'other for invention.-Pooh! my brother's a fool to me his coat was never in such company before. Where is the lady, I say? I must see the lady. Dib. Well, well, be patient; you shall see the lady. [Erit. J. Night. Ay, this puts every thing in motion. Now the world goes round: It has found its legs at last, and dances like Plough-Monday. Drown it, 'twas asleep before. What's all this lumber for? [Stumbling over the easel.] The devil! who are you? [Speaking to the layman.] what's your profession? An easy, slender, dangling figure, and as much of a gentleman as most you shall meet.---Toe piggins! now I smoke the jest: She paints. O damn it! she's an artist--That won't do; there's no standing that; I must overturn all this trumpery: I shall soon tumble you out of the room, my dear--your reign's a short one, take my word.---Ay, here she comes. Enter DIBBLE with LUCY. Dib. Mr Manlove, this is Miss Fairfax. Miss, this is Mr Manlove. J. Night. Madam, behold the fondest of your slaves. My friend here, Lawyer Dibble, has informed you, that my name is Manlove, and he tells me you are called Miss Fairfax. Be it so; if he tells a lie, he is not the first of his profession who has so done. If you should think that I am rather elevated and in the air, I won't deny it; Champaigne, you know, is a searching liquor, and my skuli is none of the deepest: but if you suppose, that I am so blind as to overlook your beauties, or my own perfections, you are not the person I take you for. Dibble, come hither; make the lady acquainted with some of my good qua lities. Discuss. Lucy. Oh, sir, what need? the good qualities of Mr Manlove are in every body's mouth. J. Night. Deuce take me now, if that is any flattery to me! Dib. I told you, madam, what a modest young gentleman he is. J. Night. Oh, you're a precious devil! Be pleased to tell the lady, likewise, what a brave estate I have got; such things come naturally enough from a lawyer's mouth; tell her what it is, and where it lies: Drown me, if I know where to find an acre of it! Lucy. Oh, never name estate, when Mr Manlove is in the case! Your person, air, address--J. Night. Madam, you do me honour. Egad, I shall have no occasion for courtship! [Aside. Lucy. Your genius, taste, accomplishments--I myself have some small turn for paintingJ. Night. Yes, and I should like you as well without it. [Aside. Lucy. But you, I dare say, are a master hand; and poetry, no doubt, is full as much your own. J. Night. Faith! there's not much to choose between them. Lucy. But, then, your education---one may see that you have travelled. Dib. Oh, yes; that's very visible. J. Night. Well said, lawyer---She has a damnable clack! Lucy. I should be delighted to hear an account of your travels: I dare say you have met many singular adventures. J. Night. A thousand: but I have taken an oath never to speak of them. Lucy. Oh, you must conquer such scruples! What advantages has your uncle's bounty given you, Mr Manlove, over that poor lad in the country! J. Night. And yet I'd rather hear one kind word said of that poor lad in the country, than a whole volume of Mr Manlove's praises. I'm hipped whenever I hear the subject mentioned. Dib. Make up to him, Lucy, or he's lost! Jack Nightshade, what are you about? One bold attack, and she's your own. J. Night. It may be so; but you must know I have a kind of partiality for that same country lubber, Jack Nightshade; and, till I can find a lady, who will prefer him to his brother, I will remain as I am so there's an end of the matter, d'ye see, and no harm done.-Madam, your ser[Exit. Lucy. So finishes the chapter of husbandsI thank you for your scheme. vant. What Dib. Thank yourself for your folly. possest you with the thought of touching upon the lad in the country? "how could you be so Hippant? Lucy. What does it signify? He is too cunning to be caught with chaff; e'en drop your project. Dib. No, let despair go hang. I am not easily repulsed: Take courage, and commit yourself to me; I have resources yet you know not of. Come, Lucy, you shall see my genius rises [Exeunt. on defeat. SCENE III.---MANLOVE's house, Enter CHARLES MANLOVE. Cha. Man. It is time to throw off the mask. I have seen and heard enough: she, who can captivate both eyes and ears at once, is irresistible! Miss Fairfax is so composed, that she has beauty enough to blind our understandings, if she wanted wit; and wit enough to blind our eyes, if she wanted beauty. I will go to her in this habit once again, and solicit an interview for Mr Manlove: If she readily grants it, I will avail myself of her compliance, and instantly disclose myself. If not-But what in the name of wonder have we got here! Ha, ha, ha! my Paris suit, by all that's brilliant! the very chef d'auvre of the superlative Mons. Le Duc: That coat was made for grand occasions; it escorted me to the nuptials of the great count d'Artois; it has now the honour to attend the revels of the illustrious Jack Nightshade! Enter JACK NIGHTSHADE. J. Night. Ay, and had I been willing, it might have assisted at another wedding: 'Egad, it might have carried off a fine girl, and one of the first fortunes in the city. Cha. Man. I should have thought your scenes had rather laid amongst the girls of freedom than of fortune! J. Night. This lady, sir, had both. Swear to me you'll be secret, and I'll tell where I've been. Cha. Man. Nay, Jack, you'll trust me, sure, without an oath? You know I am no tell-tale. Where have you been? J. Night. You'll scarce believe it-where on all this earth but to the very house where old Surly-boots sets up his rest! Cha. Man. To Mr Stapleton's? J. Night. To the enemy's head-quarters. A high stroke! Cha. Man. And what carried you thither? J. Night. A girl: The wench I told you of. Cha. Man. But what sort of a wench? I don't understand how any girl could carry you to Mr Stapleton's. J. Night. No! she'd have carried me any where; all the world over: she is ready to set out on her travels. Cha. Man. And her name is- Cha. Man. How! J. Night. Letitia Fairfax. Cha. Man. What is it you have been doing? I am much interested in this lady's good opinion, and if you have done or said any thing to offend her J. Night. Offend her! Zooks, if you had heard how mere a country whelp she made of me, you would own I had most reason to be offended of the two. Cha. Man. Still I don't understand you; you tell your story confusedly; I can make out nothing from it! J. Night. Tell it yourself, then, brother. Cha. Man. But this precaution I must give you, Jack, not to go upon that ground againkeep your sallies within proper bounds, and direct them to proper objects. Miss Fairfax is a lady for whom I have the tenderest esteem; have a care therefore, young man, how you affront her, as you value my resentiment. J. Night. Whuh! Enter FREDERICK. Fred. Sir, Mr Manlove requests your company at his chambers immediately. Cha. Man. I attend him-Brother, I am serious-Hitherto, I hope no mischief has been |