good may be extracted; and my son, when he shall be blest with a wife, lovely and virtuous as his mother, will recollect the follies of his father, and avoid his fate.

Pen. Here we conclude. We all have cause of thankfulness, but I the most; for I've escaped the perils of prosperity: the sudden onset staggered me; but temperate recollection, and the warning calls of some here present, taught me to know, that the true use of riches is to share them with the worthy; and the sole remedy for injuries, to forgive them.

THE END.

DISPOSITION OF THE CHARACTERS AT THE FALL OF THE CURTAIN.

TEM., EMILY, HENRY, PENRUD., WOOD., MRS. W., SYD.

R.]

[L.

me if I believe I have genius enough to aspire to the composition of a cabbage-net. ·

Emi. Oh! my dear father, let me conjure you to believe that those resources which my duty, my affection, have hitherto supplied, shall be doubled to you in future, when I have so kind a partner in that pleasing task.

Hen. (c.) When you are not welcome to me, I must cease to be worthy of my Emily. If books do not serve for a resource, and ancient history is too remote, we can find heroes in modern times; and you shall fight over your battles as often as you please.

Tem. That is very pleasant, I confess, for there I can come on a little; but theu I grow warm with the subject, and Emily snubs me for swearing; which you know, Mr. Penruddock, every soldier is privileged to do.

Pen. I did not know it was amongst their privileges: but this I know, they cannot, in my opinion, have too many; and heartily I wish they had more and better than what you have named.

Enter SYDENHAM, R.

Syd. I must either have the impudence of the devil, or a veneration for your character, Mr. Penruddock, which apologises for impudence, when I venture to appear in your presence after what I foolishly said to you in our late conversation.

Pen. Mr. Sydenham, I cannot allow you to call that language foolish, which springs from a heart that runs over with benevolence: as well you may blaspheme the bounty of the Nile, because it breaks loose from its channel, and overflows its banks.

Syd. Thank you, my dear sir, thank you heartily; I have been as sour as crab-juice with the malice of mankind, now I am all oil and honey, and shall slip through the rest of my days in harmony and good-humour. Ah! Henry-Tempest-Emily-Mrs. Woodville-all smiling! Why I am like the man in the Almanack, turn which way I will, a happy constellation looks me in the face.

Pen. Now you have joined us, our circle is complete. Syd. Ah! no, no, no; whilst contrition asks admittance to atone for injuries, humanity can never shut its door, and say, My circle is complete."

Pen. What do you mean?

Syd. Woodville is in your house.

F

[Aside to Penruddock.

Pen. Ha! Woodville! Have you brought him hither? Syd. No; we called at Tempest's, heard of your generous acts, and his poor wounded heart now. melts with gratitude: even my flint was softened.

Pen. Well, then, it shall be so. [Crosses, R.] Keep this company together in my absence-such meetings should be private. [Exit, R.

Mrs. W. Oh, Sydenham! generous friend! I heard the name of Woodville, and I know your intercession points at him. Heaven prosper it! But can it be? 1 doubt, I doubt, this injury is too deep.

Syd. Doubt nothing. I am confident of success-when the ice thaws, the river flows; so is it with the human charities, when melted by benevolence.

Hen. Oh! what a soul is thine? whose ardour even impossibilities cannot check.

Emi. The attempt is bold; but mark if this is not among the impossibilities that sometimes come to pass. Hen. Look, look! your angry lover

Emi. Alas! has this poor gentleman no friend to save him from exposing himself?

"Syd. The governor begins to bristle-walk aside, take no notice, and I'll accost him.

[All retire up, except Sydenham and Tempest. Enter SIR DAVID DAW, who stops for a while, R.

Now, my brave knight !

Why glows that angry spot upon your cheek? What do those boots portend; and whither bound? Sir D. Mr. Sydenham, I am just now in no humour for jesting; neither does my business lie with you.

Tem. With me, then. [Crosses to Sir David.] What would my noble baronet be pleased to say?

Sir D. I'm not pleased at all, Governor Tempest, and therefore it matters little what I say: I called at your door, and was directed to you hither, so I made free to step in ; and now, to say truth, I don't care how soon I step out, for my chaise is in waiting, and I am equipped, as you see, for my peremptory departure.

Tem. (c.) Let us part friends, however; if you can charge me fairly, do so! I'll not flinch.

Sir D. (R.) No, but you'll fly out, and that's worse. Tem. Not I: carry no grievances with you into Wales; I'll be calm as water, say what you will.

EPILOGUE.

Spoken by Miss Farren.

THERE are-what shall I call them ?-two great Powers, Who turn and overturn this world of ours,

Fortune and Folly. Though not quite the same

In property, they play each other's game;

Fortune makes poor men rich, then turns them o'er
To Folly, who soon strips them of their store.
--Oh! 'twas a mighty neat and lucky hit,
When Pat O'Leary snapt a wealthy cit;

For why?-his wants were big, his means were small,
His wisdom less, and so he spent his all :
When Fortune turn'd about, and jilted Pat,
Was Fool or Fortune in the fault of that?

Sir Martin Madcap held the lucky dice,
He threw, and won five thousand in a trice.
Keep it! cried Caution-No: he threw again,
Kick'd down the five, and cut with minus ten.

Giles Jumble and his dame, a loving pair,
No brains had either, and of course no care;
"Till (woe the day!) when fortune, in her spite,
Made Giles high-sheriff, and they dubb'd him knight.
Up they both go; my lady leads the dance,
Sir Giles cuts capers on the wheel of chance;
Heads down, heels over, whirl'd and whisk'd about,
No wonder if their shallow wits ran out;

Gigg'd by their neighbours, gull'd of all their cash,
Down comes Sir Giles and Co. with thundering crash.

Who says that Fortune's blind? she has quicker sight
Than most of those on whom her favours light;
For why does she enrich the weak and vain,
But that her ventures may come home again?
Pass'd through like quicksilver, they lose no weight
Nor value in their loco-motive state;

No stop, no stay; so fast her clients follow,
Ere one mouth shuts, another gapes to swallow:

Whilst, like a conjuror's ball-presto! be gone!
The pill that serv'd Sir Giles, now serves Sir John.

"Sir Eustace had a fair and lovely wife,
Form'd to adorn and bless the nuptial life;
Fortune's best gift in her best giving mood,
Sir Eustace made that bad which heav'n made good;
Basely allur'd her into Folly's course,

Then curs'd his fate, and sued out a divorce.
Unjust, at Fortune's cruelty to rail,

When we make all the miseries we bewail."

Ah, generous patrons! on whose breath depends
The fortune of the Muse, and us, her friends;
If, in your grace, this night you shall bestow
One sprig of laurel for your poet's brow,
Impart to me your flattering commands,
And sign them with the plaudit of your hands.