Will. Hey, hey, where's your tongue running ?My master is, as the world goes, a good sort of a civil kind of a husband, and I-Heaven help mea poor simpleton of an amorous, constant puppy, that bears with all the follies of his little tyrant here. Come and kiss me, you jade, come and kiss me.

Mus. Paws off, Cæsar-Don't think to make me your dupe. I know when you go with him to this new lady, this Bath acquaintance-and I know you're as false as my master, and give all my dues to your Mrs. Mignionet there

Will. Hush, not a word of that. I'm ruined, pressed, and sent on board a tender directly, if you blab that I trusted you with that secret-But to charge me with falsehood, injustice, and ingratitude! My master, to be sure, does drink an agreeable dish of tea with the widow. Has been there every night this month past. How long it will last, heaven knows! But thither he goes, and I attend him.

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I ask my master, Sir, says I, what time would you please to want me? He gives me his answer, and then I strut by Mrs. Mignionet, without so much as tipping her one glance; she stands watering at the mouth, and "A pretty fellow, that," says she"Ay, ay, gaze on," says I, [L.] gaze on; I see what you would be at:-you'd be glad to have meyou'd be glad to have me! But, sour grapes, my dear! I'll go home and cherish my own lovely wanton." [Follows her about.] And so I do, you know I do. Then, after toying with thee, I hasten back to my master-later, indeed, than he desires, but always too soon for him. He's loath to part; he lingers and dangles, and I stand cooling my heels.0, to the devil I pitch such a life!

Mus. (L.) Why don't you strive to reclaim the vile man then?

Will. (L. c.) Softly, not so fast; I have my talent to be sure! yes, yes, I have my talent; some influence over my master's mind: But can you suppose that I have power to turn the drift of his inclinations, and lead him as I please-and to whom?-to his wife! Pshaw! ridiculous, foolish, and absurd.

Mus. (R. c.) Mighty well, sir! can you proceed? Will. (c.) I tell you, a wife is out of date now-adays; time was-but that's all over-a wife's a drug

now; mere tar-water, with every virtue under heaven, but nobody takes it.

Mus. Well, I swear I could slap your impudent face.

Will. (R.) Come and kiss me, I say

Mus. (R.) A fiddlestick for your kisses!—while you encourage your master to open rebellion against the best of wives

Will. I tell you, it's her own fault; why don't she strive to please him, as you do me?-Come, throw your arms about my neck

Mus. Ay, as I used to do, Mr. Brazen !-Hush! My lady's bell rings. How long has he been up? When did he come home?

Will. At five this morning; rubbed his forehead, damn'd himself for a blockhead, went to bed in a peevish humour, and is now in tiptop spirits with Sir Brilliant Fashion, in the next room. [Bell rings.

Mus. O lud! that bell rings again. Come, now, give me a kiss. [Running back.] There, there, let me be gone. [She kisses him.-Exit, L.

Will. There goes high and low life contrasted in one person: 'tis well I have not told her the whole of my master's secrets: she'll blab that he visits this widow from Bath. But if they inquire, they'll be told he does not. The plot lies deeper than they are aware of, and so they will only get into a puzzlehush! yonder comes my master and Sir BrilliantLet me go out of the way. Here, Tom, help me to take away the things. [Exeunt, L.

Enter LOVEMORE and SIR BRILLIANT FASHION, R.

Love. Ha ha!-my dear Sir Brilliant-I must both pity and laugh at you-I'll swear thou art metamorphosed into the most whimsical being!

Sir Bril. (R.) Nay, pr'ythee, Lovemore, a truce with your raillery-it is for sober advice that I apply to you

Love. (c.) Sober advice!-ha! ha! Thou art very far gone indeed. Sober advice! There is no such thing as talking seriously and soberly to the tribe of overs- -That eternal absence of mind that possesses ye all-There is no society with you-I was damnable company myself, when I was one of the pining herd; but a dose of matrimony has brought me back again

to myself; has cooled me pretty handsomely, I assure you;-Ay! and here comes repetatur Haustus.

Enter MUSLIN, L.

Mus. (L.) My lady sends her compliments, and desires to know how you are this morning?

Love. O lord! my head aches wofully-It's the devil to be teased in this manner-What did you say, child?

Mus. My lady sent to know how you do, sir—
Love. O right! your lady-

-give her my compliments, and I am very well: tell her

Mus. She begs you won't think of going out without seeing her.

Love. There again, now!-tell her-tell her what you will-I shall be glad to see her-I'll wait on her -any thing-what you will.

Mus. I shall let my lady know, sir.

[Exit, L. Love. My dear Sir Brilliant, you see I am an example before your eyes-Put the Widow Bellmour entirely out of your head, and let my Lord Etheridge

Sir Bril. (R.) Positively no!-My pride is piqued, and if I can, my Lord Etheridge shall find me a more formidable rival than he is aware of.

Enter WILLIAM, L.

Will. Sir Bashful Constant is in his chariot at the upper end of the street, and has sent his servant to know if your honour is at home.

Love. By all means- -I shall be glad to see Sir Bashful. [Exit WILLIAM, L.] Now here comes another mortifying instance to deter you from all thoughts of marriage.

Sir Bril. Pshaw! hang him; he is no instance for me-a younger brother, who has lived in middling life; comes to an estate and a title on the death of a consumptive baronet, marries a woman of quality, and carries the primitive ideas of his narrow education into high life-Hang him!-he is no example for me.

Love. But he is a good deal improved since that time.

Sir Bril. Po! a mere Hottentot; unacquainted with life-blushes every moment, and looks suspi

cious, as if he imagined you have some design upon him.

Love. Why, I fancy, I can explain that-I have found out a part of his character lately. You must know, there is nothing he dreads so much as being an object of ridicule and so, let the customs and fashions of the world be ever so absurd, he complies, lest he should be laughed at for being particular Sir Bril. And so, through the fear of being ridiculous, he becomes substantially so every moment. Love. Just so. And then, to see him shrink back, as it were, from your observation, casting a jealous and fearful eye all around him. [Mimics him. Sir Bril. Ha! ha!-that's his way-but there is something worse in him-his behaviour to his ladyEver quarrelling, and insulting her with nonsense about the dignity of a husband, and his superior reason.

Love. Why, there again now; his fear of being ridiculous may be at the bottom of that. I don't think he hates my Lady Constant-She is a fine woman, and knows the world. There is something mysterious in that part of his conduct.

Sir Bril. Mysterious! not to you-he is ever consulting you-you are in all his secrets.

Love. Yes, but I can never find any of them out! And yet there is something working within, that he would fain tell me, and yet he is shy, and he hints, and he hesitates, and then he returns again into himself, and ends just where he began. Hark! I hear his chariot at the door.

Sir Bril. Why do you let him come after you?—he is a sad troublesome fellow, Lovemore.

Love. Nay, you are too severe

fits of good-nature.

Come, he has

Sir Bril. His wife has fits of good-nature, you mean -How goes on your design there?

Love. Po, po! I have no design, but I take it, you are a formidable man in that quarter.

Sir Bril. Who, I? Pshaw! no such thing.

Love. Never deny it to me; I know you have made advances.

Sir Bril. Why, faith, I pity my Lady Constant, and cannot bear to see her treated as she is.

Love. Well, that's generous-have a care; I hear him -Sir Brilliant, I admire your amorous charity of all things-ha ha!-Hush! here he comes.

Enter SIR BASHFUL, L.

Sir Bash. (L.) Mr. Lovemore, a good morning to
-Sir Brilliant, your servant, sir.

you

Sir Bril. (R.) Sir Bashful, I am heartily glad to see you-I hope you left my lady well.

Sir Bash. I can't say, sir; I am not her physician. Sir Bril. What a brute !-Well, Lovemore, I must be gone.

Love. Why in such a hurry?

Sir Bril. (L.) I must-I promised to call on a lady over the way-A relation of mine from Wiltshire-I shan't stay long.

Love. Very well-a l'honneur.

Sir Bril. Sir Bashful, your servant-Mr. Lovemore, yours. [Exit, L. Sir Bash. Mr. Lovemore, I am glad he is gone; for I have something to advise with you about. Love. (R.) Have you?

Sir Bash. (c.) I have had another brush with my wife! Love. I am sorry for it, Sir Bashful-I am perfectly glad of it.

[Aside.

Sir Bash. Ay! and pretty warm the quarrel was.-"Sir Bashful," says she, "I wonder you will disgrace yourself at this rate-you know my pin money is not sufficient. My mercer has been with me again -I can't bear to be dunn'd at this rate:" and then she added something about her quality-you know, Mr. Lovemore, [smiling] she is a woman of quality. Love. Yes, and a fine woman too!

Sir Bash. No---no---no---do you think she is a fine woman?

Love. Most certainly-a very fine woman! Sir Bash. [Smiling.] Why, yes I think she is what you may call a fine woman. She keeps good company, Mr. Lovemore.

Love. The very best.

Sir Bash. Yes, yes-that she does-your tiptopnone else; but one would not encourage her too much, for all that, Mr. Lovemore-the world would think me but a weak man if I did.

Love. The world will talk, Sir Bashful. Sir Bash. (R. c.) So it will; stoutly. Madam," says I, -don't quality me---I'll act

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and so I answered her a fig for your quality like a man of sense,