to the hollow croakings of this melancholy sea-monster-a rusty old weather-cock, always pointing one way, and that to the quarter of misfortune.-1 miserable!—What should make me so? Is not my wife kind and faithful, and only a little troublesome now and then, for my good? Is not my son generous and gay, and-and like his father, as a son should be? And an't I stout in body, and sound in mind; and is not every thing as I would have it?-A dismal old

Now has

he given me a sample of the view with which advice is always bestowed, and I him a proof of the effect with which it is always taken-he came to me to increase my distresses by consolation, and I have made use of his counsel as a new argument for pleasing myself.

[Exit.

Scene III.-Miss Herbert's.

Enter MISS HERBERT and MRS. RACHEL.

Miss Her. Well, my dear aunt! have you been more successful in your inquiries after the unfortunate Miss Wingrove than I have been?

Mrs. Rach. I don't know how to say I have been more successful-but from your account, I have col lected more particulars. I understand she was accidentally encountered by Mr. Welford, who kindly offered her the asylum of his house, which she accepted-but learning, by conversation with his relations, that her reception there had produced a quarrel between him and his mistress, the generous girl scorned to consult her own comfort at the expense of her protector; and having contrived to change her own clothes for those of a younger brother of Mr. Welford's, she accomplished her escape.

Enter SERVANT.

Mr. Wingrove, madam.

Miss Her. Admit him. O, he shall receive no mercy at my hands whilst he continues the persecutor of his sister.-Will you give me leave, madam, to receive him alone?

Mrs. Rach. Certainly, my dear.

Enter MR. WINGROVE.

[Exit.

Mr. Win. Will Miss Herbert permit a penitent to approach her?

Miss Her. Oh! by all means-a real penitent. But are you quite sure that you come under that description; or is your's like the common repentance of the world, which consists rather in a prejudice against punishment, than a sincere contrition for the offence?

Mr. Win. Dear, charming Harriet, how can you question it? I am ashamed of the violence of my behaviour at our last interview; yet you must acknowledge that you drew me into that suspicion by your ambiguous deportment. Surely my Harriet could not find entertainment in the uneasiness of the man who adores her?

Miss Her. [Aside.] Bless me! if he continues in this strain of humility, I shall never be able to punish him as he deserves-yet I must.

Mr. Win. What's that, my Harriet? You cannot doubt the sincerity and devotion of my love,

Miss Her. Apropos-Was it you that fell in love with me, or your father?

Mr. Win. My father! Harriet?

Miss Her. Aye, you or your father; which of you is it that I have had the good fortune to inspire with so favourable an opinion of me? I am inclined to think it is to the elder gentleman I owe the obligation.

Mr. Win. Nay, now, madam, I don't understand you. Miss Her. In plain English, then, had you your instructions from your father to undergo the labour of wooing, or did you come of your own accord ?

Mr. Win. Can my Harriet entertain so humiliating an opinion of me, as to suppose I would be actuated in so dear a concern as that by any influence but the impulse of my own affection?

Miss Her. Take care, Mr. Wingrove-take carethere is nothing so tempting, I admit you, as those pretty words that fall gracefully in to close the procession of an ambitious sentence; but let me ask you plainly, sir, Whether, if your father should now, even now, lay his commands upon you to relinquish the passion with which you affect to regard me, you would not instantly obey him, and leave me forsaken and forlorn, to transfer your obedient ardours to any new lady of his choice?

Ar. Win, 'Tis true, I feel the most sincere respect for my father; yet had he thought proper to interpose his influence in a case where nature claims a paramount authority, I had renounced a submission which I should have held to have been unjustly exacted.

Miss Her. Are you sure of it?

Mr. Win. Quite sure.

Miss Her. Dear Mr. Wingrove. [Taking his hand.] Mr. Win. [Kissing it.] My lovely, my adorable Harriet! Sure of it! am I sure of my existence? Am I sure of your being the most lovely of your own sex-or I the happiest of mine? [Kisses her hand] Am I sure that we shall never exchange another harsh word, or another unkind look? Am I sure

Miss Her. Nay, now, sir, you are fairly caught.

Mr. Win. Hey-day! what frolic is in the wind now? Miss Her. If all this be true, Mr. Wingrove, tell me, sir, what it is that constitutes the offence of your sister? Why is she driven out a disgraced wanderer, to encounter all the unknown hazards of a merciless world, when one of her persecutors not only acknowledges that he shares in all her guilt—if guilt it be-but glo. ries in the sympathy he feels in her disobedience, be

cause he considers it as a just tribute to the object of his affections, and a proof of his independence?

Mr. Win. My sister, ma'am, is a woman—and— and

Miss Her. My sister, ma'am, is a woman-andand-that is, my sister is an interdicted being-disinherited by nature of her common bounties—a creature, with regard to whom, engagements lose their faith, and contracts their obligations. In your fictitious characters as lovers, you endeavour to make us believe that we are exalted above human weaknesses; but, in your real characters, as men, you more honestly demonstrate to us, that you place us even below your own level, and deny us the equal truth and justice that belongs alike to all intelligent beings. This language, sir, is new, at least in the vocabulary of love; I wish I could say the sentiments it conveys were equally so in the hearts of your most imperious sex.

Mr. Win. Before I was interrupted, madam, by this torrent of modest rhetoric on the merits of your most unimperious sex; for so, in particular, I am bound to think them, I meant merely to have said, that I can aggrandize the woman with whom it may be my fate to be united-whereas, if my sister joined herself with an inferior, she would have become necessarily degraded to the rank of her husband. But I find, madam, these insults are calculated merely to gratify your pride, by proving to what extremity of meanness your power can reduce me. I blush at the servilities to which it has already exposed me, and now throw off the yoke for ever. [Going, Miss Her. Stay, sir; before you go, let me beg you to favour this letter with a perusal-read it at your leisure. And now-" a long farewell to all my great, ness."

Mr. Win. D-nation! laughed at too!-Farewell, madam, and I swear

Miss Her. Nay, sir, don't swear; or if thou wilt swear-swear by thy gracious self!

Win. [In a fury of passion.] Madam, I go-for ever. [Exit.

Miss Her. To have convinced me of that, your congè, my rebellious captive, should have been taken with somewhat less disturbance. I am glad I had recollection enough to give him Lord Dartford's letter of proposals before he went. He was in a terrible rage, to be sure so much the better-while a woman retains power enough over a man to make him lose his temper, he is not yet in that state of healthy indifference that entitles him to bid defiance to a relapse of affection.

[Exit.

ACT V.

Scene I-The Admiral's Garden.

Enter JULIA (in boy's clothes, looking back.

Yonder is my brother, and his servant, as I live, perhaps in pursuit of me! I dare not meet them-Yet sure they cou'd not know me-I hardly know myself— Their eyes seem directed this way-I'll shut the gate till they have pass'd. Ha! who comes here? perhaps the owner of this place. From my long residence with my aunt, I am almost a stranger in my native villageBless me, he has a stern countenance! I had best conceal myself till he quits the garden. [Retires,

me.

Enter ADMIRAL.

Adm. Why what a pack of idle fellows I keep about When I'm laid up with the gout these rascals do nothing-See what a fine jessamine here is almost spoilt for want of tying up-let's try what I can do. [Goes to tie it, Julia shifts her place.] What's that shakes the