Chari. Oh, then I find I have done something you think I can't justify.

Darn. I don't say that neither; perhaps I am wrong in what I have said; but I have been so often used to ask pardon for your being in the wrong, that I am resolved henceforth never to rely on the insolent evidence of my own senses.

Charl. You don't know, now, perhaps, that I think this pretty smart speech of your's is very dull; but since that's a fault you can't help, I will not take it ill; come now, be as sincere on your side, and tell me seriously-Is not what real business I had abroad the very thing you want to be made easy in?

Darn. If I thought you would make me easy, I would own it.

Charl. Now do we come to the point. To-morrow morning, then, I give you my word, to let you know it all; till when, there is a necessity for it being a secret ; and I insist upon your believing it.

Darn. But pray, madam, what am I to do with private imagination in the mean time? that is not in my power to confine; and sure, you won't be offended, if, to avoid the tortures that it may give me, I beg you'll trust me with the secret now.

Charl. Don't press me; for positively I will not. Darn. Will not-cannot had been a kinder term-Is my disquiet of so little moment to you?

Charl. Of none, while your disquiet dares not trust the assurances I have given you. If you expect I should confide in you for life, don't let me see you dare not take my word for a day; and, if you are wise, you'll think so fair a trial a favour. Come, come, there's nothing shows so low a mind, as those grave and insolent jealousies.

Darn. However, madam, mine you won't find so low as you imagine; and since I see your tyranny arises from your mean opinion of me, 'tis time to be myself, and disavow your power; you use it now beyond my bearing; not only impose on me to disbelieve my senses, but do it with such an imperious air, as if my manly reason were your slave; and this despicable frame, that follows you, durst show no signs of life but what you vouchsafe to give it. [Retires up the Stage.

Charl. You are in the right; go on-suspect me still believe the worst you can-'tis all true-I don't justify myself. Why do you trouble me with your

complaints? if you are master of that manly reason you have boasted, give a manly proof of it; at once resume your liberty; despise me; go off in triumph now, like a king in a tragedy.

Darn. Is this the end of all, then? and are those tender protestations you have made me (for such I thought them) when, with a kind of reluctance, you gave me something more than hope-what all [CHARLOTTE sits in a chair]—Oh, Charlotte! all come to

this?

Charl. Oh, lud! I am growing silly; if I hear on, I shall tell him every thing; 'tis but another struggle and I shall conquer it. [Aside.] So you are not gone, I see. [Looking over the back of the chair.

Darn. Do you then wish me gone, madam?
Charl. Your manly reason will direct you.

Darn. This is too much-my heart can bear no more! What, am I rooted here?

Enter SEYWARD, through M. D.

Charl. At last I am relieved. [Rising.] Well, Mr. Seyward, is it done?

Seyn. I did not stir from the desk till it was entirely finished.

Charl. Where's the original ?

Seyw. This is it, madam.

Charl. Very well; that, you know, you must keep ; but come, we must lose no time; we will examine this in the next room-now I feel for him. [Exit, M. D. Darn. This is not to be borne-Pray, Mr. Charles, what private business have you with that lady?

Seyn. Sir!

[Following CHARLOTTE.

Darn. I must know, young man.

[Pursues him, and pulls him back. Seyn. Not quite so young, but I can keep a secret, and a lady's too-you'll excuse me, sir!

[Breaks away, and exit, м. D. Darn. 'Sdeath! I shall be laughed at by every body -I shall be distracted-this young fellow should repent his pertness, did not this house protect him-this is Charlotte's contrivance to distract me-but-but what? Oh! I have love enough to bear this, and ten times as much.

Enter COLONEL LAMBERT, L. Col. Lamb (L.) What. in raptures !

Darn. Pr'ythee-I am unfit to talk with you.
Col. Lamb. What, is Charlotte in her airs again?
Darn. I know not what she is.

[Crosses to L.

Col. Lamb. (c.) Do you know where she is?

Darn. Retired this moment to her chamber with the young fellow there--the doctor's nephew.

Col. Lamb. Why, you are not jealous of the doctor, 1 hope?

Darn. Perhaps she'll be less reserved to you, and tell you wherein I have mistaken her.

Col. Lamb. Poor Frank! every plot I lay upon my sister's inclinations for you, you are sure to ruin by your own conduct.

Darn. I own I have too little temper, and too much real passion, for a modish lover.

Col. Lamb. Come, come! make yourself easy once more; I'll undertake for you: if you'll fetch a cool turn in the Park, upon Constitution Hill, in less than half an hour I'll come to you, and make you perfectly

easy.

Darn. (L. c.) Dear Tom, you are a friend indeed! I have a thousand things-but you shall find me there. [Exit, L.

Enter CHARLOTTE and SEYWARD, M. D.

Col. Lamb. How now, sister, what have you done to Darnley? the poor fellow looks as if he had killed your parrot.

Charl. (L.) Psha! you know him well enough; I've only been setting him a love lesson; it a little puzzles him to get through it at first, but he'll know it all by tomorrow-you will be sure to be in the way, Mr. Sey

ward.

Seyn. (L.) Madam, you may depend upon me; I have my full instructions. [Exit, L. Col. Lamb. O, ho! here's the business then; and it seems Darnley was not to be trusted with it; ha! ha! and pr'ythee, what is the mighty secret that is transacting between Seyward and you?

Charl. (L. c.) That's what he would have known, indeed; but you must know, I don't think it proper to let you tell him either, for all your sly manner of asking.

Col. Lamb. Pray take your own time, dear madam I am not in haste to know, I assure you.

Charl. Well, but hold; on second thoughts, you shall know part of this affair between Seyward and me; nay,

I give you leave to tell Darniey too, on some conditions ; 'tis true, I did design to have surprised you-but now my mind's altered, that's enough.

Col. Lamb. Ay, for any mortal's satisfaction-but here comes my lady.

Enter LADY LAMBERT, L. D.

Lady Lamb. (L.) Away, away, Colonel and Charlotte, both of you away this instant.

Charl. What's the matter, madam?

Lady Lamb. I am going to put the doctor to his trial, that's all. I have considered the proposal you have made me to-day, colonel, and am convinced it ought not to be delayed an instant; so, just now, I told the doctor in a half whisper, that I should be glad to have a word in private with him here; and he said he would wait upon me presently; but must I play a traitorous part now, and instead of persuading you to the doctor, persuade the doctor against you?

Charl. Dear madam, why not? one moment's truce with the prude, I beg of you; don't startle at his first declaration, but let him go on, till he shows the very bottom of his ugly heart.

Lady Lamb. I warrant you, I'll give a good account of him-but, as I live, here he comes!

Charl. Come then, brother, you and I will be comode, and steal off.

[Exeunt, CHARLOTTE and COLONEL, R. U. E.

-The COLONEL seen

Enter DOCTOR CANTWELL, L. D.—

listening.

Dr. Cant. (L. c.) Here I am, madam, at your ladyship's command; how happy am I that you think me worthy

Lady Lamb. (c.) Please to sit, sir.

[Both sit.-LADY LAMBERT, R.-CANTWELL, L. Dr. Cant. (c.) Well, but, dear lady, ha! You can't conceive the joyousness I feel at this so-much-desired interview. Ah! ah! I have a thousand friendly things to say to you: and how stands your precious health? is your naughty cold abated yet? I have scarce closed my eyes these two nights with my concern for you.

Lady Lamb. Your charity is too far concerned for me. Dr. Cant. Ah! don't say so: don't say so: You merit more than mortal man can do for you.

Lady Lamb. Indeed you over-rate me.

Dr. Cant. I speak it from my heart: indeed, indeed, Indeed I do. [Pressing her hand. Lady Lamb. O dear! you hurt my hand, sir.

Dr. Cant. Impute it to my zeal, and want of words for expression: precious soul! I would not harm you for the world; no, it would be the whole business of my life

Lady Lamb. But to the affair I would speak to you about.

Dr. Cant. Ah! thou heavenly woman!

[Placing his hand on her knee. Lady Lamb. Your hand need not be there, sir. Dr. Cant. I was admiring the softness of this silk. They are indeed come to prodigious perfection in all manufactures: how wonderful is human art! Here it disputes the prize with nature: that all this soft and gaudy lustre should be brought from the labours of a poor worm!

Lady Lamb. But our business, sir, is upon another subject: Sir John informs me, that he thinks himself under no obligations to Mr. Darnley, and therefore resolves to give his daughter to you.

Dr. Cant. Such a thing has been mentioned, madam; but, to deal sincerely with you, that is not the happiness I sigh after; there is a soft and serious excellence for me, very different from what your step-daughter pos

sesses.

Lady Lamb. Well, sir, pray be sincere, and open your heart to me.

Dr. Cant. Open my heart! Can you then, sweet lady, be yet a stranger to it? Has no action of my life been able to inform you of my real thoughts?

Lady Lamb. Well, sir, I take all this, as I suppose you intend it, for my good and spiritual welfare.

Dr. Cant. Indeed, I mean you cordial service.

Lady Lamb. I dare say you do: you are above the low momentary views of this world.

Dr. Cant. Why, I should be so; and yet, alas! I find this mortal clothing of my soul is made like other men's, of sensual flesh and blood, and has its frailties. Lady Lamb. We all have those, but yours are well corrected by your divine and virtuous contemplations.

Dr. Cant. Aias! madam, my heart is not of stone: I may resist, cali all my prayers, my fastings, tears and venance, to my aid; but yet, I am not an angel; I am