Enter WITLING.

Wit. Ha, my little Granger! how dost thou do, child? Where the devil hast thou been this age?What's the reason you never come among us?-Frankly, give me thy little finger, my dear.

Gran. Thou art a very impudent fellow, Witling. Wit. Ay, it's no matter for that; thou art a pleasant one, I am sure; for thou always makest us laugh.

Frank. Us! what the devil dost thou mean by us, now?

Wit. Why, your pretty fellows, my dear; your bons vivants; your men of wit and taste, child.

Gran. I know very few of those; but I come from a country, sir, where half the nation are just such pretty fellows as thou art.

Wit. Ha! that must be a pleasant place indeed!— What, dost thou come from Paradise, child?-Ha, ha, ha!

Frank. Faith, Granger, there I think he came up with you.

Gran. Nay, since the rogue has money, we must, of course, allow him wit: but I think he is one of your good-natured ones: he does not only find the jest, but the laugh too.

Wit. Ay, and to hear thee talk, child, how is it possible to want either? Ha, ha!

Frank. Good again! Well said, Witling! Why thou art as sharp to-day

Wit. As a glover's needle, my dear; I always dart it into your leather heads with three edges, ha, ha!

Gran. Pr'ythee, Witling, does not thy assurance sometimes meet with a repartee that only lights upon the outside of thy head?

Wit. Oh, your servant, sir! What, now your fire's gone, you, would knock me down with the but-end, would you? Ha! it's very well, sir; I ha' done, sir, I ha' done; I see it's a folly to draw bills upon a man that bas no assets.

Gran. And to do it upon a man that has no cash of thine in his hands, is the impudence of a bankrupt.

Wit. Pshaw! a mere flash in the pan-Come, come, a truce, a truce; I have done; I beg pardon.

Gran. But, pr'ythee, Witling, how came a man of thy parts ever to think of raising thy fortune in Changealley? How didst thou make all this money thou art

master of?

Wit. Why, as other men of wit and parts often do, by having little or nothing to lose.-I raised my fortune, sir, as Milo lifted the bull, by sticking to it every day, when 'twas but a calf. I soused them with premiums, child, and laid them on thick when the stock was low; and did it all from a brass nail, boy.-In short, by being dirty once a day for a few months, taking a lodging at my broker's, and rising at the same hour I used to go to bed at this end of the town, I have at last made up my accounts, and now wake every morning master of five thousand a year, terra firma, and pelf in my pocket: I have fun in my fob, beside, child.

Gran. And all this out of Change-alley?

Wit. Every shilling, sir; all out of stocks, puts, bulls, rams, bears, and bubbles.

Gran. What are we to think of this, Frankly?-Is fortune really in her wits, or is the world out of them? Frank. Much as it used to be; she has only found a new channel for her tides of favour.

Wit. Pr'ythee, why dost not come into the alley, and see us scramble for them? If you have a mind to philosophize there, there's work for your speculation! 'Egad, I never go there, but it puts me in mind of the poetical regions of death, where all mankind are upon a level-Oh, there's no such fun in the universe! 'Egad, there's no getting away. Perish me, if I have had time to see my mistress, but of a Sunday, these three months.

Gran. Thy mistress! What dost thou mean? Thou speakest as if thou hadst but one.

Wit. Why, no more I have not, that I care a farthing

for.

Frank. Pr'ythee, who is she?

B

Wit. I'll show you, my dear-I think I have her here in my pocket.

Gran. What dost thou mean?

Wit. Look you, I know you are my friends; and therefore, since I am sure it is in nobody's power to hurt me, I'll venture to trust you.-There! that's who, child. [Shows a Paper.

Frank. What's here?

[Reads.

To Sir GILBERT WRANGle. Sir,-According to your contruct of the eleventh of February last, I now make my election of your younger daughter, Mrs. Charlotte Wrangle; and do hereby demand your consent, to be forthwith join'd to the said Charlotte in the sober state of matrimony. Witness my hand, &c. WILLIAM WITLING.

What a merry world do we live in!

Gran. This indeed is extraordinary.

Wit. I think so; I assure you, gentlemen, I take this to be a coup de maître of the whole alley. This is a call now, that none of your thick-sculled calculators could ever have thought on.

Gran. Well, sir, and does this contract secure the lady's fortune to you too?

Wit. Oh, pooh! I knew that was all snug before: he had settled three thousand a-piece upon them in the South-Sea, when it was only about par, provided they married with his consent, which by this contract, you know, I have a right to. So there's another thirty thousand dead, my dear.

Frank. But pray, sir, has not the lady herself a right of refusal, as well as you, all this while?

Wit. A right! ay, who doubts it? Every woman has a right to be a fool, if she has a mind to it, that's certain; but Charlotte happens to be a girl of taste, my dear; she is none of those fools that will stand in her own light, I can tell you.

Frank. Well, but do you expect she should blindly consent to your bargain?

Wit. Blindly, no, child: but dost thou imagine any

citizen's daughter can refuse a man of my figure and fortune with her eyes open.

Gran. Impudent rogue!

Frank. Nay, I grant your security's good, sir: but [Aside. I mean, you have still left her consent at large in the writing.

Wit. Her consent! Didst thou think I minded that, man? I knew, if the stock did but whip up, I should make no more of her than a poached egg. But to let

you into the secret, my dear, I am secure of that already; for the slut's in love with me, and does not know it: ba, ha, ha!

Frank. How came you to know it, then?

Wit. By her ridiculous pretending to hate me, child: for we never meet, but 'tis a nortal war, and never part, till one of us is rallied to death: ha, ha, ha!

Frank. Nay then, it must be a match; for, I see, you are resolved to take no answer.

Wit. Not I, faith! I know her play too well for that: in short, I am this very evening to attack her in form; and to show you I am a man of skill, I intend to make my first breach from a battery of Italian music, in which I design to sing my own lo Pæan, and enter the town in triumph.

Frank. You are not going to her now?

Wit. No, no, I must first go and give the governor my summons here.-I must find out sir Gilbert; he's hereabouts: I long to make him growl a little; for I know he'll fire when he reads it, as if it were a scire facias against the company's charter. Ha, ha, ha! [Exit. Gran. Pr'ythee let's follow, and see how the old gentleman receives him.

Frank. No; excuse me; I can't rest till I see Charlotte: you know my affairs now require attendance.

Gran. That's true; I beg you take no notice to Sophronia of my being in town; I have my reasons for it.

Frank. Very well; we shall meet at dinner. Adieu. [Exeunt severally.

Char. Ha, ha, ha!

Soph. Dear sister, don't be so boisterous in your mirth: you really overpower me! so much vociferation is insupportable.

Char. Well, well, I beg your pardon-but, you know laughing is the wholesomest thing in the world; and when one has a hearty occasion

Soph. To be vulgar, you are resolved to appear so. Char. Oh, I cannot help it, I love you dearly; and, pray, where's the harm of it?

Soph. Look you, sister, I grant you, that risibility is only given to the animal rationale; but you really indulge it, as if you could give no other proof of your species.

Char. And if I were to come into your sentiments, dear sister, I am afraid the world would think I were of no species at all.