so partial to that hypocrite? The doctor is one of those who start at a feather. Poor good man; yet he has his vices of the graver sort

Old Lady Lamb. Come, come; I wish you would follow his precepts, whose practice is conformable to what he teaches. Virtuous man!—above all sensual regards, he considers the world merely as a collection of dirt and pebblestones. How has he weaned me from temporal connexions! My heart is now set upon nothing sublunary; and, I thank heaven, I am so insensible to every thing in this vain world, that I could see you, my son, my daughters, my brothers, my grand-children, all expire before me, and mind it no more than the going out of so many snuffs of candle.

Charl. Upon my word, madam, it is a very humane disposition you have been able to arrive at, and your family is much obliged to the doctor for his instructions.

Old Lady Lamb. Well, child, I have nothing more to say to you at present: heaven mend you, that's all.

us.

Lady Lamb. But pray, madam, stay and dine with

Old Lady Lamb. No, daughter; I have said it, and you know I never tell a lie: but here's my son, if you'll give me leave, I'll stay and speak to him.

Lady Lamb. Your ladyship's time is your own. Charl. Ay, and here's that abominable doctor. This fellow puts me beyond my patience. [Crosses to L. [Exeunt LADY LAMBERT and CHARLOTTE, L.

Enter SIR JOHN LAMBERT and DR. CANTWell, r.

Sir J. Lamb. (R.) Oh, madam, madam! I'm glad you're here to join me in solicitations to the doctor.Here is my mother, friend, my mother, a pious woman; you will hear her, more worthy to advise you than I

am.

Dr. Cant. (R. c.) Alas! the dear good lady, I will kiss her hand!-but what advice can she give me? The riches of this world, sir, have no charms for me; I am not dazzled with their false glare; and were I, I repeat' it, to accept of the trust you want to repose in me, heaven knows it would only be lest the means should fall into wicked hands, who would not lay it out as I should do, for the glory of heaven, and the good of my neighbour.

Old Lady Lamb. (c.) What is the matter, son?

Dr. Cant. Nothing, madam, nothing. But you were witness how the worthy colonel treated me this morning; not that I speak it on my own account-for to be reviled is my portion.

Sir J. Lamb. O, the villain! the villain !

Dr. Cant. Indeed, I did not think he had so hard a nature.

Old Lady Lamb. Ah, your charitable heart knows not the rancour that is in his. His wicked sister, too, has been here this moment abusing this good man.

Dr. Cant. O, sir, 'tis plain, 'tis plain, your whole family are in a combination against me-your son and daughter hate me; they think I stand between them and your favour; and indeed it is not fit I should do so; for, fallen as they are, they are still your children, and I an alien, an intruder, who ought in conscience to retire and heal those unhappy breaches.

Old Lady Lamb. See, if the good man does not wipe his eyes!

Dr. Cant. Oh Heavens! the thought of their ingratitude wounds me to the quick; but I'll remove this eyesore. Here, Charles!

Enter SEYWARD, L.

Sir J. Lamb. For goodness sake

Dr. Cant. Bring me that writing I gave you to lay up this morning.

Sir J. Lamb. Make haste, good Charles; it shall be signed this moment. [Exit SEYWARD, L. Dr. Cant. Not for the world, Sir John; every minute tends to corroborate my last intentions: I must not, will not take it, with the curses of your children.

Sir J. Lamb. But, consider, doctor; shall my wicked son then be heir to my lands, before repentance has entitled him to favour? No, let him depend upon you, whom he has wronged; perhaps, in time he may reflect on his father's justice, and be reconciled to your rewarded virtues. If Heaven should at last reclaim him, in you, I know, he still would find a fond, forgiving father. Dr. Cant. The imagination of so blest an hour, softens me to a tenderness I cannot support!

Old Lady Lamb. Oh! the dear good man.

Sir J. Lamb. With regard to my daughter, doctor, you know she is not wronged by it; because, if she proves no obstinate, she may still be happy.

Old Lady Lamb. Yes, but the perverse wretch slights the blessing you propose for her.

Dr. Cant. We must allow, madam, female modesty a time, which often takes the likeness of distaste: the commands of your good son might too suddenly surprise her. Maids must be gently dealt with; and, might I humbly advise

Sir J. Lamb. Any thing you will; you shall govern ine and her.

Dr. Cant. Then, sir, abate of your authority, and let the matter rest awhile.

Sir J. Lamb. Suppose we were to get my wife to speak to her; women will often hear from their own sex, what, sometimes, even from the man they like, will startle them,

Dr. Cant. Then, with your permission, sir, I will take an opportunity of talking to my lady.

Sir J. Lamb. She's now in her dressing-room; I'll go and prepare her for it. [Exit, R. Dr. Cant. You are too good to me, sir-too bountiful.

Enter SEYWArd, L.

Seyw. Sir, Mr. Mawworm is without, and would be glad to be permitted to speak with you.

Old Lady Lamb. Oh, pray doctor admit him; I have not seen Mr. Mawworm this great while; he's a pious man tho' in an humble estate; desire the worthy creature to walk in.

Enter MAWWORM, L. -How do you do, Mr. Mawworm?

Maw. (L.) Thank your ladyship's axing-I'm but deadly poorish, indeed; the world and I can't agree-I have got the books, doctor-and Mrs. Grunt bid me give her service to you, and thanks you for the eighteen pence.

Dr. Cant. Hush [Crosses to MAWWORM, and stops his mouth] friend Mawworm! not a word more; you know I hate to have my little charities blaz'd about: a poor widow, madam, to whom I sent my mite. Old Lady Lamb. (c.) Give her this.

[Offers a purse to MAWWORM. Dr. Cant. [Catching hold of it.] I'll take care it shall be given to her. [Puts it up and returns to R.

Old Lady Lamb. But what is the matter with you, Mr. Mawworm?

Maw. I don't know what's the matter with me-I'm a breaking my heart- I think it's a sin to keep a shop. Old Lady Lamb. Why, if you think it a sin, indeedpray what's your business?

Maw. We deals in grocery, tea, small-beer, charcoal, butter, brick-dust, and the like.

Old Lady Lamb. Well; you must consult with your friendly director here.

Man. [Crosses to CANT.] I wants to go a preaching Old Lady Lamb. Do you?

Maw. I'm almost sure I have had a call.

Old Lady Lamb. Ay!

Maw. I have made several sermons already. I does them extrumpery, because I can't write; and now the devils in our alley says, as how my head's turned.

Old Lady Lamb. Ay, devils indeed-but don't you mind them.

Maw. No, I don't-I rebukes them, and preaches to them, whether they will or not.. We lets our house in lodgings to single men and their wives, and, sometimes, I gets them together, with one or two of the neighbours, and makes them all cry.

Old Lady Lamb. Did you ever preach in public?

Maw. I got up on Kennington Common, the last review day; but the boys threw brick-bats at me, and pinned crackers to my tail; and I have been afraid to mount, your ladyship, ever since.

Old Lady Lamb. Do you hear this, doctor? throw brick-bats at him, and pin crackers to his pious tail! can these things be stood by ?

Maw. I told them so- says I, I does nothing clandecently; I stand here contagious to his majesties guards, and I charges you upon your apparels, not to mislest

me.

Old Lady Lamb. And it had no effect?.

Maw. No more than if I spoke to so many postesses; but if he advises me to go a preaching, and quit my shop, I'll make an excressance farther into the country,

Old Lady Lamb. An excursion, you would say.

Maw. I am but a sheep, but my bleatings shall be heard afar off, and that sheep shall become a shepherd; nay, if it be only, as it were, a shepherd's dog to bark the stray lambs into the fold.

Old Lady Lamb. He wants method, doctor.

Dr. Cant. Yes, madam, but there is matter; and I despise not the ignorant.

Maw. He's a saint!

Dr. Cant. Oh!

Old Lady Lamb. Oh!

[Pointing to Cant.

Maw. If ever there was a saint, he's one-till I went after him I was little better than the devil; my consci. ence was tanned with sin, like a piece of neat's leather, and had no more feeling than the sole of my shoe; always a roving after fantastical delights: I used to go, every Sunday evening, to the Three Hats at Islington: it's a public-house; mayhap your ladyship may know it: I was a great lover of skittles too, but now I can't bear them.

Old Lady Lamb. What a blessed reformation!

Maw. I believe, doctor, you never know'd as how I was instigated one of the stewards of the_reforming society. convicted a man of five oaths, as last Thursday was a se'nnight, at the Pewter-platter, in the Borough; and another of three, while he was playing trap-ball in St. George's Fields: I bought this waistcoat out of my share of the money.

[Holding up the Flaps. Old Lady Lamb. But how do you mind your business?

Maw. Better than ever we did. We have lost almost all our customers; because I keeps extorting them whenever they come into the shop.

Old Lady Lamb. And how do you live?

:

Maw. Better than ever we did while we were worldly minded, my wife and I (for I am married to as likely a woman as you shall see in a thousand) could hardly make things do at all; but since this good man has brought us into the road of the righteous, we have always plenty of every thing! and my wife goes as well dressed as a gentlewoman-we have had a child too.

Old Lady Lamb. Merciful!

Maw. And between you and me, doctor, I believe Susy's breeding again.

Dr. Cant. Thus it is, madam; I am constantly told. though I can hardly believe it, a blessing follows wherever I come.

Maw. And yet, if you would hear how the neighbours reviles my wife; saying, as how she sets no store by me, because we have words now and then; but as I says, if such was the case, would ever she have cut me down that there time as I was melancholy, and she found me hang