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Gre. No, to be sure; a likely matter, truly. [Exit.

Let. Dear sir, 'tis natural; the worst of men have moments of compunction; it is not to be supposed that Mr Nightshade, though fatally ad- A. Night. I wish I had not smote him quite so dicted to passion, is totally devoid of human hard; and yet I should have thought no mischief feelings. could have followed. I have struck that clodA. Night. I beg you'll be so kind as to leave pate twice as hard, a hundred and a hunme; I should wish to have a minute's recollec-dred times; 'tis that hath spoilt my hand: it is tion. Gregory, you may stay.

[He retires to the back scene. Stap. Letitia, I begin to pity him. Let. Have patience: let him chew the cud of reflection. Remorse, sometimes, like an advertising quack, will make great commotion in a man's constitution; but repentance is the regular physician, which by slow, but steady means, conducts the patient to his cure.


A. Night. Gregory! Gre. Your honour-How sanctified he looks! as who should say, Gregory, give me a good word on my trial.

A. Night. I'm thinking, Gregory, of this accident.

Gre. Well, sir, and how do you like it? A. Night. Why, I am in hopes it will blow over; I think they'll hardly prosecute, and if the worst should happen, they can make nothing of it, but chance-medley or manslaughter; nothing else, Gregory: so there's little to fear from the law. But as I am a man, who have always enforced the law against other people, d'ye observe me, and consequently made enemies amongst the wicked; I should think, honest Gregory, you might stand in my place, and I would be sure to bring you off, and reward you into the bargain.

Gre. Lord, sir, a trifle! I should be proud of being hanged in the service of so good a master; but I am afraid there were too many people present, and 'twould be gross presumption to suppose any body could mistake me for your ho


A. Night. Why certainly that is a hard pill to swallow; but what is to be done?

Gre. Make over your estate to Master Jacky, and fly your country: what if I run to the French walk, and take you a passage in the Boulogne pacquet? I may be in time to secure the cabin before any other malefactor has taken a birth

in it.

A. Night. Malefactor! prithee, let me hear no more of your advice; it is but wasting time; I must have better counsel; and though brother Manlove has not pleased me in the matter of the pigeon-house, yet he is a good man in the main, and understands his business; run to him, d've hear, and desire him to repair here directly, upon a pressing concern; I know he'll not refuse assistance when I really want him.

Gre. I'll go directly-This is lucky. [Aside. A. Night. And d'ye mind, leave me to open the affair to him; say nothing of the accident.


surprising what some heads will bear! I would I was with my poor boy in the country; what evil genius brought me up to this curst scene of mischief and mischance! Dear Fortune, rescue me from this one scrape, and let me scramble out of the next as I can. [Exit.


Let. Now, sir, be pleased to favour me with your commands.

Cha. Man. I am to solicit you in the behalf of Mr Manlove, that he may be allowed the honour of making himself known to you.

Let. This is done already; I am no stranger to Mr Manlove, believe me.

Cha. Man. So, so she has discovered me[Aside.] Well, madam, if Mr Manlove is already known to you in his assumed character, may he not hope to improve that acquaintance in his real one?

Let. The character he has assumed, I must fairly own to you, gives me no favourable opinion of his real one: the shallow devices he made use of to impose on my understanding, when he thought himself secure from a discovery, betray a disingenuous mind; and, I must believe, that no man would descend from the character of a gentleman, who was not wanting in the requisites that go to the support of it.

Cha. Man. I've made myself a precious blockhead! This mummery of the painter has disgusted her. [Asid

Let. As to his pretended taste for painting, I will not affect more skill than I possess; but I will venture to say, that either he is ignorant of the art, or presumes upon my being so.

Cha. Man. I am fairly trapped: I must be prating of what I did not understand. [Aside.]— I will not offer much in Mr Manlove's behalf, madam; but as to skill in painting, you will be pleased to consider him not as a professor, but a lover only of the art.

Let. A lover, sir! that is the last character I should wish to consider Mr Manlove in.

Cha. Man. I perfectly understand you, Miss Fairfax: you have said enough: Mr Manlove understands you: I believe I need not explain myself any farther.

Let. No, the case is perfectly clear; and, I flatter myself, you think I have been explicit on my part.

Cha. Man. There can be no complaint on that score. Nothing now remains for Mr Manlove, but to lay aside, as soon as he is able, every 6 R


thought, each hope that had Miss Fairfax for its | shade out of the country, madam; he is come object. up incog, and is afraid his father shall discover him, that's all.

Let. 'Twill be much tor my repose. Cha. Man. Rely upon it, then, your repose shall never be disturbed by Mr Manlove; never -Adieu! [Goes out. Let. Your servant-He's piqued, and it becomes him.

Cha. Man. [Returns.] If ever you see him here again, say I have deceived you—let me bear the blame: your most obedient.

Let. Good day--I'll depend upon you. Cha. Man. Set your mind at rest; I'll die before I break my word: your servant.

[Exit CHA. Let. [Alone.] How would this man plead in his own cause! Ah, why would Fortune not concert with Nature, and either give the wealth of Manlove to his merits; or purchase out his merits to bestow on Manlove's wealth?

Enter Lucy, hastily.

Lucy. Where can this provoking cloak be laid? Every thing is in train, and there is not a moment to be lost-Ah! [Screams.

Let. Lucy! Whither away so fast? Lucy. I declare I did not see you, madam; I thought you was in your own room.

Let. But where are you running to, child?
Lucy. Only stepping out a little way.
Let. Stepping out! Whither?
Lucy. To my brother Dibble's.
Let. For what?

Lucy. Upon a little family business, that's all. I could have sworn you had been with your gentleman in the painting-room.

Let. My gentleman! Who is it you call my gentleman!

Lucy. Humph-I'll shew her that I am in her secrets; it will keep het out of mine.-[Aside.] -I thought you was with Mr Manlove; I left you together.

Let. Mr Manlove! What is this you tell me? Lucy. Nay, madam, don't be alarmed, I am. no tell-tale; and, though I knew Mr Manlove in his painter's character, nobody shall be the wiser for me, I assure you.

Let. As sure as can be, it is so! What a discovery!-[Aside.]-Well, Lucy, I find you are in the secret; you know the real Mr Manlove; but pray, tell me, who is the pretended one? I have been received at Mr Manlove's house, and visited here, by a young man, who calls himself Manlove: Who is he?

Lucy. Oh, dear madam, don't you know him? I wish I don't get into a scrape; but there is no going back. [Aside.]—It is young Mr Night

Let. Is that all? I shan't take your word for that. I suspect there is more in the plot than you have related. If this young man is afraid of being seen by his father, what brings him hither? Answer me that.

Lucy. Madam, I—I—I cannot tell what brings him hither.

Let. Lucy, don't equivocate; for I will know. I saw him leave the house, just now, with your brother; you are following in great haste, upon family business, you pretend; but I suspect upon no fair errand. Confess to me, for you shall not stir to your brother's, till you do.

Lucy. As you will for that, madam, but I cannot endure to be suspected, and I will confess to you when I have done crying.—[Weeps.] Let. Do so; you had best.

Lucy. Why, then, you must know, that Mr Manlove--that is--I mean Mr Nightshade, that calls himself Mr Manlove, is fallen monstrously in love with

Let. With whom !

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Let. Come, come, Lucy, but I know it is not all: You have given him your company, as you call it, have you not? And you are now going to meet him at your brother's, are you not?

Lucy. No-yes-but if I am, it's all in fair and honest way of courtship: Oh, if he was to go for to offer any thing unhandsome to me, I should tear his eyes out. Nobody can say I have the least speck or flaw, no, not so big as the point of a pin, on my reputation. It would be the death of me; I would sooner part from my life, than my virtue; he has promised

Let. What has he promised? Lucy. To marry me. Let. Marry you! Ridiculous. Lucy. Ay, I knew the jealous thing could not bear that; she will burst with envy.


Let. Hark'e, Lucy; I commend you for the honesty of your confession; run into my chamber; Mr Stapleton is coming this way, and will interrupt us: compose yourself, and we will talk over the affair at leisure.-[Exit Lucy.]---Happy, happy revolution! What a ridiculous mal entendu had I fallen into! O how deliciously I will torture this fine gentleman-painter for his contrivances!





Dib. COME along, 'squire, the lady is expecting you at my apartment. Every thing is in train, and 'twill be your own fault now, if you are not the happiest man in England,

J. Night. Hold a moment, Dibble, hold! My brother's coming, and I can't resist the pleasure of a little natural exultation.

Dib. Perverse! Vexatious! Are you mad? By Heavens, you'll lose the lady! and, what is worse, by Heaven's she'll lose the gentleman! [Aside


Cha. Man. So, Jack, I hope your frolic is at an end: you've been disorderly in your cups, I find. J. Night. Where did you hear that? Cha. Man. Where I least wished to hear it; at Mr Stapleton's; Miss Fairfax told me.

J. Night. Miss Fairfax told you, did she so? Miss Fairfax was not very angry when she told you, I should guess: You did not find me greatly out of favour, did you?

Cha. Man. In truth, I had so little occasion to boast of my own reception, Jack, that I did not give much attention to what she said of you.

J. Night. That is honestly confessed, however: So, your reception was but cold, and you have dropt all thoughts of a connexion, I suppose?

Cha. Man. Entirely: I've received my peremptory dismission.

J. Night. Poor Charles! You are dismissed? Your person, genius, equipage, estate, all stand you in no stead! Another is preferred before you; perhaps some country booby like myself; and don't you wish you knew the happy man? Cha. Man. Not I.

Dib. What are you at? You'll ruin all. J. Night. I shall burst if I don't tell himBrother, I believe I could direct you to the man that has done all the mischief.

Cha. Man. I give you credit, Jack, for that; I do believe you've done me all the mischief in your power.

J. Night. Who, I? Oh, dear, you flatter me! a country whelp supplant a travelled gentleman like you? Impossible—and yet

Cha. Man. What yet?

J. Night. This witness on my finger, here, would stagger some folks; I am apt to think Miss Fairfax means to wear it in good time.

Cha. Man. A wedding ring! You must excuse me, Jack; I want credulity for that.

J. Night. Just as you please; I bought it for her wearing, and measured her finger for that purpose, and did intend, with the parson's help, to put it on with that design.

Dib. Will nothing stop your mouth? By Heavens, I'll throw the matter up!

[Aside to J. NIGHT. Cha. Man. You! You marry Miss Letitia Fairfax!

Dik. Dear squire, be persuaded, and come away,

[Aside to J. NIGHT.

J. Night. Hold your tongue, I tell you; I, I, and not the ingenious, learned, travelled Mr Manlove; here's a witness that will vouch for what I say.-[DIB. offers to go]-Where are you running? Come back. Tell my brother what you know of Miss Fairfax's partiality for a certain insignificant, iguorant fellow, called Jack Nightshade.

Dib. For shame, sir! You should not talk of -ladies' favours.

Cha. Man. Your friend is cautious, you perceive.

J. Night. Hang him, he's so by habit! he's a lawyer-but speak out: You are come to fetch me to Miss Fairfax, and Miss Fairfax is at your lodgings, and I am to be the lady's husband, and the bill is a true bill, is it not?

Dib. It is.

Cha. Man. Errors excepted; you forgot your caution. This can never be. Hark'e, sir; a little cross-examination, if you please.

J. Night. As much of that as you think proper. He's used to that sport; he'll dodge like a rabbit in a warren.

Cha. Man. You say the lady is at your lodgings: Answer me, what lady?

Dib. Sir, I believe-what lady? That's your question-what lady is at my lodgings?

Cha. Man. Ay, sir, without equivocation.

Dib. Well, sir, I am not upon oath in this business; nor am I obliged to ascertain the identity of people's persons; but the lady at my lodgings I take to be Miss Fairfax.

J. Night. Does that satisfy you? Brother, I thank you for your coat; it has made an impres sion, you perceive.

Cha. Man. Have a little patience-You take her to be Miss Fairfax? Describe her person. Dib. I never meddled with her person, sir; that's not for me to do.

Cha. Man. Is she fair complexioned?
Dib. I think so.

J. Night. I can't say I do.

Cha. Man. Light hair, or dark?

Dib. My eyes are none of the best, but I think Miss Fairfax's hair is white.

J. Night. Black as a crow, by Jupiter!
Cha. Man. Tall, or short?

Dib. I never measured her; but I take her to be tall.

J. Night. Death and the devil! Why, you're drunk! Fair, tall, light-haired! Why, she is a

little, dapper, dusky damsel, with a poll as black | heat of the passions, a jury will bring it in man


Cha. Man. Hark'e, sir; a word in your ear.


A. Night. Well, and don't all the world know

Dib. Blown, as I hope to be a judge To DIB. there's not a more passionate man living than my


Cha. Man. You have a sister answers this description; you're discovered, and a villain. [Aside to DIB. J. Night. Hold, hold! no closeting of witnes


Dib. Good sir, be not offended. Mr Nightshade first borrowed your name, and my sister, to keep up the jest, made free with that of Miss Fairfax-nothing but a frolic.

Cha. Man. What do you tell me? Did my brother take my name in any interview with Miss Fairfax?

Dib. Certainly, sir; she calls him Mr Manlove at this moment.

. Cha. Man. Away; your news has saved your ears; away!

Dib. 'Egad, we are all blown up! I must go and tell Lucy to make her peace.

[Exit DIB. J. Night. How now? what's this? Hallo! Where's Dibble running?

Cha. Man. Your humble servant, Mr Manlove-Take my name, my credit from me, Jack? It is too much. You must be saved, however.

J. Night. I must be satisfied. Is this fair dealing? Where is Dibble gone?

Cha. Man. Let him go where he will; he has made a fool of you.

J. Night. Yes; but I'm not a fool to take your word for that: so let me pass.

Cha. Man. Nay, Jack, but hear reasonJ. Night. Yes; and while you are reasoning, I shall lose the lady.

Cha. Man. I say the lady; have a care she does not prove the lady's maid.

J. Night. The maid! Ah, brother, I'm too cunning to take that upon trust. You have raised my curiosity, however, and I will know the truth- -So let me go, for go I will, and that's enough.


Man. You have sometimes told me I was passionate; I never heard you say as much for yourself.

A. Night. But if there was no malice in the deed, how can it ever be deemed murder?

Man. Malice is threefold: first, malice express; secondly, malice implied; thirdly, malice prepense: of each in their order

A. Night. Psha! prithee, what avails describing any, when I've none of all the three? Man. Had you no quarrel, then, before the act? A. Night. Quarrel! why no-or if 1 had, twas only a few words.

Man. Is that the cane you struck him with; A. Night. This is the twig; I call it nothing more.

Man. I doubt the law will construe it a weapon of offence.

A. Night: And pray now was his not a weapon of offence? I believe the whole town thinks it such, of great offence: sick or well, there is no repose for those horns. What I did was in selfdefence.

Man. I fear 'twill not be thought so. If indeed you had any wound to show, whereby the violence of the battery might be proved

A. Night. Wound! why I have a wound and as bad a one as his; only mine lies within side of my head, and his without: he has broke the drum of my ears.

Man. What do you talk of ears? if you had been happy enough now to have lost a finger, an eye, or a fore-tooth, it would have been the loss of a defensive member, and a mayhem at common law.

A. Night. Well, brother, be so kind to tell me what I am to do.

Man. Repent.

A. Night. Why, so I will, provided you say nothing about the matter, and my country acquits me upon the trial; but if I am to be pu[Exit J. NIGHT.nished for my faults, what signifies repenting of Cha. Man. A match; we'll start together.—them into the bargain? My happiness is sure as much concerned in this discovery, as yours.

Man. Well, Andrew, I must tell you there is [Exit. yet a way of getting honourably out of this affair, provided you will bind yourself to me, never to lift your hand in wrath against a fellow-crea


A. Night. I should think, brother, there's no danger but a jury will see the action in this light.

Man. 'Tis hard to say; juries are ticklish things; the law will look to the motives. If it shall appear that it was done, not from the wickedness of the heart, but from the sudden


A. Night. Why, no, to be sure I shan't; I thought all skulls were as hard as Gregory's.

Man. Come, you must have done with Gregory's; nay, I would not alone exempt man from your fury, but beast likewise: Cruelty must not be practised in any shape: Nature must not be wounded in any of her works. Promise me this, upon the faith of an honest man, and I'll redeem you from this scrape.

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Cha. Man. I ask a thousand pardons: I intreat I mayn't disturb you.

Let. Oh, sir, don't mention it. You see I use no ceremony.

Cha. Man. You're infinitely obliging. I have ventured once again, Miss Fairfax, to intrude upon your patience.

Let. As often as you please; you're always

judgment. How do you like what I have done?

LETITIA is discovered painting; Lucy attend-welcome here. Come hither-I must have your ing; a Layman placed at some distance. Let. These touches come off well; this last sitting was a good one: methinks I never was in better luck. Lucy, what say you; is it like?

Lucy. Like, madam! 'tis alive; 'tis Mr Stapleton himself.

Cha. Man. All that you do is well; but you'll forgive me-I am full of other thoughts, and wish to lose no moment of this happy opportunity.

Let. Pish! I must have you flatter me: Sit down-This drapery puzzles me-Sit down, I Let. Is the servant gone for his clothes to say: Your modern habits are so stiff! How shall dress the layman? I'll positively rub in the dra-I manage it? Come, take the chalk-nay, no expery now I'm about it. Well, child, I've turned cuse. Though you are so smartly dressed, you this matter in my head, and I believe I must for- absolutely must assist me. give you; there's no holding out against contrition: I believe your brother was to blame-So this painter then is Mr Manlove?

Lucy. Yes, madam, and a lovely man he is; if you please to remember, I told you so the first moment I saw him; so genteel, so well-bred, so perfectly the gentleman. Oh, here comes Thomas with the clothes-shall I help to put them on?

Enter Servant.

Cha. Man. I beg to be excused: my happiness is staked upon this crisis: my heart is full, and must have vent.

Let. How can you be so tiresome? Now you are going upon the old topic, Mr Manlove. Cha. Man. I must confess it is of him that I would speak.

Let. Fye, fye upon you! call to mind your promise. Hold-suppose I throw aside this ugly brown and gold, and put him in a fancy dress : What say you?

Cha. Man. Nothing: for I am nothing: I Let. So, so! that's right-let the arm fall na- have no art, no faculty of painting; I am an imturally-it's very well as it is-Now turn the lay-postor. On my knees I do beseech you, forgive

man with its side to me-no, t'other way-a little more. Stay, let me do it myself. Now stand away

-that's it.

Ser. Have you any further commands, madam? Let. No-yes. If the young gentleman who was with me this morning should call again, shew him up hither.

Ser. The painter?

Let. Yes, the painter, as you call him.

Ser. Madam, he is this moment come into the court-yard.

Let. Indeed! then do as I bid you. [Exit Ser.] So, so, he has found out the mistake as well as myself.

Lucy. Pray, madam, give me leave to go and show Mr Manlove hither.

Let. Do so, Lucy, do so-What a flutter am I in--but, hark'e, don't give him any intimation that I know him. [Exit Lucy.] This is happy! I am such a gainer by this revolution, that I cannot find in my heart to be angry with the girl That ever I should be the bubble of so gross an imposition! Hark! he's coming. I'll pretend to be at work! though I am so confused, I don't

and hear me.

Let. Pray be composed, nor let your zeal for Mr Manlove agitate you thus. I'll save you all this trouble, by confessing freely to you, I have changed my mind since last we parted.

Cha. Man. Changed! as how?

Let. As you'll be pleased to hear. I think of Mr Manlove now as favourably as you yourself could wish.

Cha. Man. Madam

Let. I think the woman must be blest, whom such a man shall honour with his choice.

Cha. Man. Indeed! I may presume, then, you would condescend to countenance his addresses? Let. That's a home question; but I think it is not easy to deny him any thing.

Cha. Man. I'm thunderstruck! The boy has told me the truth; she likes him, and 1 am undone!

Let. What is the matter now? You seem quite disconcerted. Is not this the very point you aimed at? Hav'n't I confest all that you wished? Cha. Man. Oh, no! You torture me.

Let. Man, restless man! whom nothing I can

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