Lord Town. Preserve but this desire to please, your power is endless.

Lady Town. Oh!-till this moment never did I know, my lord, I had a heart to give you.

Lord Town. By Heaven! this yielding hand, when first it gave you to my wishes, presented not a treasure more desirable! Oh, Manly! sister! as you have often shared in my disquiet, partake now of my felicity! my new-born joy! see, here, the bride of my desires! This may be called my wedding-day.

Lady Grace. Sister, (for now, methinks, that name is dearer to my heart than ever) let me congratulate the happiness that opens to you.

Man. Long, long, and mutual, may it flowLord Town. To make our happiness complete, my dear, join here with me to give a hand, that amply will repay the obligation.

Lady Town. Sister, a day like thisLady Grace. Admits of no excuse against the general joy. [Gives her hand to MANLY. Man. A joy like mine- despairs of words

to speak it.

Lord Town. Oh, Manly, how the name of friend endears the brother! [Embracing him. Man. Your words, my lord, will warm me to deserve them.

Lord Town. No matter: not to see them, would on a sudden be too particular. Lady Grace will assist you to entertain them.

Lady Town. With her, my lord, I shall be always easy- -Sister, to your unerring virtue I now commit the guidance of my future days

Never the paths of pleasure more to tread,
But where your guided innocence shall lead;
For, in the marriage-state, the world must own
Divided happiness was never known.
To make it mutual, nature points the way :
Let husbands govern; gentle wives obey.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.-Opening to another apartment, discovers a great number of people in masquerade, talking all together, and playing upon one another. LADY WRONGHEAD as a shepherdess; JENNY as a nun; the 'Squire as a running footman; and the Count in a domino.

After some time, LORD and LADY TOWNLY, with LADY GRACE, enter to them, unmasked.

Lord Town. So! here's a great deal of company.

Lady Town. A great many people, my lord, but no company- as you'll find-for here's one now that seems to have a mind to entertain us.

[A Mask, after some affected gesture, makes up to LADY TOWNLY.

Mask. Well, dear lady Townly, sha'n't we see you by-and-by?

Lady Town. I don't know you, madam.
Mask. Don't you seriously?

[In a squeaking tone.

Lady Town. Not I, indeed.
Mask. Well, that's charming; but can't you

guess?

Lady Town. Yes, I could guess wrong, I be

lieve.

Mask. That's what I'd have you do.

Lady Town. But, madam, if I don't know you at all, is not that as well?

Mask. Ay, but you do know me. Lady Town. Dear sister, take her off my hands; there's no bearing this. [Apart. Lady Grace. I fancy I know you, madam. Mask. I fancy you don't; what makes you think you do?

Lady Grace. Because I have heard you talk. Mask. Ay, but you don't know my voice, I'm

sure.

Lady Grace. There is something in your wit and humour, madam, so very much your own, it is impossible you can be any body but my lady Trifle.

Mask. [Unmasking.] Dear lady Grace! thou art a charming creature.

Lady Grace. Is there nobody else we know here?

Mask. Oh dear, yes! I have found out fifty already.

Lady Grace. Pray who are they?

Mask. Oh, charming company! there's lady Ramble-lady Riot lady Kill-care-lady Squander lady Strip-lady Pawn-and the dutchess of Single Guinea.

Lord Town. Is it not hard, my dear, that people of sense and probity are sometimes forced to seem fond of such company? [Apart. Lady Town. My lord, it will always give me pain to remember their acquaintance, but none to drop it immediately. [Apart.

Lady Grace. But you have given us no account of the men, madam. Are they good for any thing?

Mask. Oh, yes, you must know, I always find out them by their endeavours to find out me.

Lady Grace. Pray, who are they?

Mask. Why, for your men of tip-top wit and

Lord Town. Oh, by all means: we'll wait up

gage.

Then for your pretty fellows only-there's sir Powder Peacock- -lord Lapwing-Billy Magpie- -Beau Frightful-sir Paul Plaistercrown, and the marquis of Monkey-man.

Lady Grace. Right! and these are the fine gentlemen that never want elbow-room at an assembly.

Mask. The rest, I suppose, by their tawdry hired habits, are tradesmen's wives, inns-of-court beaux, Jews, and kept mistresses.

Lord Town. An admirable collection!

Lady Grace. Well, of all our public diversions, I am amazed how this, that is so very expensive, and has so little to shew for it, can draw so much company together!

Lord Town. Oh, if it were not expensive, the better sort would not come into it: and because money can purchase a ticket, the common people scorn to be kept out of it.

Mask. Right, my lord. Poor lady Grace! I suppose you are under the same astonishment, that an opera should draw so much good company.

Lady Grace. Not at all, madam: 'tis an easier matter, sure, to gratify the ear, than the understanding. But have you no notion, madam, of receiving pleasure and profit at the same time?

Mask. Oh, quite none! unless it be sometimes winning a great stake; laying down a vole, sans prendre, may come up to the profitable pleasure you were speaking of.

Lord Town. You seem attentive, my dear?

[Apart. Lady Town. I am, my lord; and amazed at my own follies, so strongly painted in another [Apart.

woman.

Lady Grace. But see, my lord, we had best adjourn our debate, I believe; for here are some masks that seem to have a mind to divert other people as well as themselves.

Lord Town. The least we can do, is to give them a clear stage then.

[A dance of masks here in various characters. This was a favour extraordinary.

[The scene shuts upon the masks to e smaller apartment.

MANLY re-enters with SIR FRANCIS WRONG

HEAD.

Sir Fran. Well, cousin, you have made my very hair stond on end! Waunds! if what you tell me be true, I'll stuff my whole family into a stage-coach, and trundle them into the country again on Monday morning.

Man. Stick to that, sir, and we may yet find a way to redeem all. In the mean time, place yourself behind this screen, and, for the truth of what I have told you, take the evidence of your own senses: but be sure you keep close till I give you the signal.

Sir Fran. Sir, I'll warrant you-Ah, my lady! my lady Wronghead! What a bitter business have you drawn me into!

Man. Hush! to your post; here comes one couple already.

[SIR FRANCIS retires behind the screen. Exit MANLY.

Enter MYRTILLA with SQUIRE RICHARD. Squire Rich. What, is this the doctor's chamber?

Myr. Yes, yes; speak softly.

Squire Rich. Well, but where is he?

Myr. He'll be ready for us presently; but he says, he can't do us the good turn without witnesses: so, when the count and your sister come, you know he and you may be fathers for one another.

Squire Rich. Well, well; tit for tat! ay, ay, that will be friendly.

Myr. And see, here they come.

Enter COUNT BASSET, and MISS JENNY. Count Bas. So, so, here's your brother and his bride, before us, my dear.

Jenny. Well, I vow, my heart's at my mouth still! I thought I should never have got rid of mamma; but while she stood gaping upon the dance, I gave her the slip? Lawd, do but feel

how it beats here!

Count Bas. Oh, the pretty flutterer! I protest, my dear, you have put mine into the same palpitation!

Jenny. Ay, say you so?—but let's see now— Oh, lud! I vow it thumps purely-well, well, I see it will do; and so, where's the parson?

Count Bus. Mrs Myrtilla, will you be so good as to see if the doctor's ready for us?

Myr. He only staid for you, sir: I'll fetch him immediately. [Exit MYR. Jenny. Pray, sir, am not I to take place of mamma, when I'm a countess?

Count Bas. No doubt on't, my dear.
Jenny. Oh, lud! how her back will be up then,

when she meets me at an assembly; or you and I in our coach and six at Hyde Park together!

Count Bas. Ay, or when she hears the boxkeepers at an opera, call out-The countess of Basset's servants!

Jenny. Well, I say it, that will be delicious! And then, mayhap, to have a fine gentleman, with a star and a what-d'ye-call-um ribbon, lead me to my chair, with his hat under his arm all the way! Hold up, says the chairman; and so, says I, my lord, your humble servant. I suppose, madam, says he, we shall see you at my lady Quadrille's? Ay, ay, to be sure, my lord, says I— So in swops me, with my hoop stuffed up to my forehead; and away they trot, swing! swang! with my tassels dangling, and my flambeaux blazing, and—Oh, it's a charming thing to be a woman of quality!

Count Bas. Well! I see that, plainly, my dear, there's ne'er a duchess of them all will become an equipage like you.

Jenny. Well, well, do you find equipage, and I'll find airs, I warrant you.

SONG.

What though they call me country lass,
I read it plainly in my glass,
That for a duchess I might pass;

Oh, could I see the day!
Would fortune but attend my call,
At park, at play, at ring, and ball,
I'd brave the proudest of them all,

With a stand by-clear the way!

Surrounded by a crowd of beaux,
With smart toupees, and powdered clothes,
At rivals I'd turn up my nose;
Oh, could I see the day!
I'd dart such glances from these eyes,
Should make some lord or duke my prize:
And then, oh, how I'd tyrannize,

With a stand by—clear the way!

Oh, then for every new delight,
For equipage and diamonds bright,
Quadrille, and plays, and balls all night;
Oh, could I see the day!
Of love and joy I'd take my fill,
The tedious hours of life to kill,
In every thing I'd have my will,

With a stand by-clear the way!

Squire Rich. Troth! I think this masquerading's the merriest game that ever I saw in my life! Thof' in my mind, an there were but a little wrestling, or cudgel-playing naw, it would help it hugely. But what a-rope makes the parson stay so?

Count Bas. Oh, here he comes, I believe.

Enter MYRTILLA, with a Constable. Con. Well, madam, pray which is the party that wants a spice of my office here? Myr. That's the gentleman.

[Pointing to the Count. Count Bas. Hey-day! what, in masquerade, doctor?

Con. Doctor! Sir, I believe you have mistaken your man: but, if you are called count Basset, I have a billet-doux in my hand for you, that will set you right presently.

Count Bas. What the devil's the meaning of all this?

Con. Only my lord chief justice's warrant against you for forgery, sir.

Count Bas. Blood and thunder!

Con. And so, sir, if you please to pull off your fool's frock there, I'll wait upon you to the next justice of peace immediately.

Jenny. Oh, dear me, what's the matter?

[Trembling. Count Bas. Oh, nothing, only a masquerading frolic, my dear.

Squire Rich. Oh, ho! is that all?

Sir Fran. No, sirrah! that is not all!

[SIR FRANCIS, coming softly behind the squire, knocks him down with his cane.

Enter MANLY.

Squire Rich. Oh, lawd! Oh, lawd! he has beaten my brains out.

Man. Hold, hold, sir Francis! have a little mercy upon my poor godson, pray, sir.

Sir Fran. Wounds, cousin, I han't patience. Count Bas. Manly! nay, then, I'm blown to the devil. [Aside. Squire Rich. Oh, my head! my head!

Enter LADY WRONGHEAD.

Lady Wrong. What's the matter here, gentlemen? For Heaven's sake! What, are you murdering my children?

Con. No, no, madam! no murder! only a little suspicion of felony, that's all.

Sir Fran. [To JENNY.] And for you, Mrs Hotupon't, I could find in my heart to make you wear that habit as long as you live, you jade you. Do you know, hussy, that you were within two minutes of marrying a pickpocket?

Count Bas. So, so, all's out I find. [Aside. Jenny. Oh, the mercy! why, pray, papa, is not the count a man of quality, then?

Sir Fran. Oh, yes, one of the unhanged ones, it seems.

Lady Wrong. [Aside.] Married! Oh, the confident thing! There was his urgent business, then-slighted for her! I han't patience!—and, for aught I know, I have been all this while ma king a friendship with a highwayman.

Man. Mr Constable, secure there.

Sir Fran. Ah, my lady! my lady! this comes of your journey to London: but now I'll have, a frolic of my own, madam; therefore pack up your trumpery this very night; for, the moment my horses are able to crawl, you and your brats shall make a journey into the country again. Lady Wrong. Indeed, you are mistaken, sir Francis-I shall not stir out of town, yet, I promise you.

Sir Fran. Not stir? Waunds, madam

Man. Hold, sir! If you'll give me leave a little-I fancy I shall prevail with my lady to think better on't.

Sir Fran. Ah, cousin, you are a friend, indeed!

Man. [Apart to my lady.] Look you, madam, as to the favour you designed me, in sending this spurious letter inclosed to my lady Grace, all the revenge I have taken, is to have saved your son and daughter from ruin. Now, if you will take them fairly and quietly into the country again, I will save your ladyship from ruin.

Lady Wrong. What do you mean, sir? Man. Why, sir Francis shall never know what is in this letter; look upon it. How it came into my hands, you shall know at leisure. Lady Wrong. Ha!-my billet-doux to the count! and an appointment in it! I shall sink with confusion!

Man. What shall I say to sir Francis, ma

dam?

Lady Wrong. Dear sir, I am in such a trembling! preserve my honour, and I am all obedience. [Apart to MANLY. Man. Sir Francis- -my lady is ready to receive your commands for her journey, whenever you please to appoint it.

Sir Fran. Ah, cousin, I doubt I am obliged to you for it.

Man. Come, come, sir Francis; take it as you find it. Obedience in a wife is a good thing, though it were never so wonderful! And now, sir, we have nothing to do but to dispose of this gentleman.

Count Bas. Mr Manly! sir! I hope you won't ruin me!

Man. Did you forge this note for five hundred pounds, sir?

Count Bas. Sir-I see you know the world, and, therefore, I shall not pretend to prevaricate -But it has hurt nobody yet, sir; I beg you will not stigmatise me; since you have spoiled my fortune in one family, I hope you won't be so cruel to a young fellow, as to put it out of my power, sir, to make it in another, sir.

Man. Look you, sir, I have not much time to waste with you: but, if you expect mercy yourself, you must shew it to one you have been cruel to.

Count Bas. Cruel, sir!

Man. Have you not ruined this young wo

man?

Man. No words, sir; a wife, or a mittimus. Count Bas. Lord, sir! this is the most unmerciful mercy!

Man. A private penance, or a public oneConstable.

Count Bas. Hold, sir; since you are pleased to give me my choice, I will not make so ill a compliment to the lady, as not to give her the preference.

Man. It must be done this minute, sir: the chaplain you expected is still within call. Count Bas. Well, sir,- -since it must be -Come, spouse- -I am not the first of the fraternity, that has run his head into one noose, to keep it out of another.

SO

Myr. Come, sir, don't repine: marriage is, at worst, but playing upon the square.

Count Bas. Ay, but the worst of the match, too, is the devil.

Man. Well, sir, to let you see it is not so bad as you think it, as a reward for her honesty, in detecting your practices, instead of the forged bill you would have put upon her, there's a real one of five hundred pounds to begin a new honey moon with. [Gives it to MYRTILLA

Count Bas. Sir, this is so generous an actMan. No compliments, dear sir-I am not at leisure now to receive them. Mr Constable, will you be so good as to wait upon this gentleman into the next room, and give this lady in marriage to him?

Con. Sir, I'll do it faithfully.

Count Bas. Well, five hundred will serve to make a handsome push with, however.

[Exeunt COUNT BASSET, MYRTILLA, and Constable.

Sir Fran. And that I may be sure my family's rid of him for ever-come, my lady, let's even take our children along with us, and be all witnesses of the ceremony.

[Exeunt SIR FRANCIS, LADY WRONGHEAD, MISS and SQUIRE.]

Man. Now, my lord, you may enter.

Enter LORD and LADY TOWNLY, and LADY
GRACE.

Lord Town. So, sir, I give you joy of your negociation.

Man. You overheard it all, I presume?
Lady Grace. From first to last, sir.

Lord Town. Never were knaves and fools better disposed of.

Man. A sort of poetical justice, my lord, not much above the judgment of a modern comedy,