ta's fufpicions grow violent, I have apartments ready to receive you. [Mimicking Sir Charles.] But a word in your ear, old gentleman- -Thofe apartments won't do. Sir Cha. Oh, Sir, I begin to be a little in the secret!

Fad. Mighty quick of apprehenfion, faith!——And the little innocent!- -Still, Sir Charles, my tears are all that I can thank you with; for this goodness is too much for me. [Mimicking Fidelia.] Upon my foul, you have a great deal of goodness, Sir Charles; a great deal of goodness, upon my foul.

Sir Cha. Why, now I understand you, Sir. And as these matters may require time, for the fake of privacy, we'll fhut this door. [Shuts the door. Fad. Any other time, Sir Charles. But I am really fo hurried at prefent, that-Oh, Lord!

[Afide Sir Cha. Why, what does the wretch tremble at ?. Broken bones are to be fet again; and thou mayest yet die in thy bed. [Takes hold of him.] You have been a liftener, Sir.

Fad. Lord, Sir!-Indeed, Sir!-Not I, Sir !

Sir Cha. No denial, Sir.

(Shakes him. Fad. Oh, Sir, I'll confefs! I did liften, Sir-I did, indeed, Sir.

Sir Cha. Does your memory furnish you with any other villainy of yours, that may fave me the trouble of

an explanation ? Fad. I think, Sir-What the devil shall I say now?

[Afide Sir Cha. Take care; for every lie thou telleft me, shall be scored ten fold upon thy flesh. Answer me-How came Mr. Belmont's fifter by that anonymous letter? Fad. Letter, Sir!

Sir Cha. Whence came it, I fay?

Fad. Is there no remiffion, Sir?

Sir Cha. None that thou canst deserve: for honesty is

not in thy nature.

If

Fad. If I confefs?

Sir Cha. Do fo, then, and trust me. 17

Fad. Yes, and fo be beat to mummy by Charles

you won't tell him, Sir

Sir Cha. I'll think on't.

Fad. Why, then, Sir-But he'll certainly be the

death

death of me

-It was by his contrivance I wrote the

letter, and fent it from the King's-Arms.

Sir Cha. Very well, Sir. And did you know to what purpose it was fent?

Fad. Yes, Sir; it was to alarm the family against Fidelia, that Charles might get her into private lodgings That was all, as I hope to be fav'd, Sir.

Sir Cha. Was it, Sir? And upon what principles were you an accomplice in this villainy?

Fad. I was out of money, Sir, and not over-valiant ; and Charles promised and threatened-'Twas either a fmall purfe, or a great cudgel-And fo, I took one, to avoid t'other, Sir.

Sir Cha. And what doft thou deserve for this?

Fad. Pray, Sir, confider my honeft confeffion, and think me paid already, if you pleafe, Sir.

Sir Cha. For that thou art safe. If thou wouldst continue fo, avoid me. Begone, I fay! Fad. Yes, Sir

-and well off, too, faith.

Sir Cha. Yet stayfhame, hear me. Fad. I will, Sir.

Afide, and going. -If thou art open to any fenfe of

Sir Cha. Thy life is a difgrace to humanity. A foolish prodigality makes thee needy; need makes thee vicious, and both make thee contemptible. Thy wit is proftituted to flander and buffoonery; and thy judgment, if thou haft any, to meannefs and villainy. Thy betters that laugh with thee, laugh at thee: and who are they? The fools of quality at court, and those who ape them in the city. The varieties of thy life are pitiful rewards, and painful abuses; for the fame trick that gets thee a guinea to-day, fhall get thee beaten out of doors to-morrow. Those who

caress thee are enemies to themselves; and when they know it, will be fo to thee: in thy diftreffes they'll defert thee, and leave thee, at last, to fink in thy poverty, unregarded and unpitied. If thou canst be wife, think of me, and be honest.

[Exit.

Fad. I'll endeavour it, Sir-A most excellent difcourse, faith,; and mighty well there was not a larger congregation. So, fo!-I must be witty, with a vengeance! ---What the devil fhall I fay to Charles, now?

And here he comes, like poverty and the plague, to destroy me at once- -Let me fee -Ay-as truth has faved me with one, I'll try what a little lying will do with t'other.

Enter Young Belmont.

Ha, ha, ha! Oh, the rareft fport, Charles!
Bel. What fport, pr'ythee?

Fad. I fhall burft!. Ha, ha, ha! -The old gen-.

tleman has let me into all his fecrets.

Bel. And like a faithful confident, you are going to reveal them.

Fad. Not a breath, Charles-Only that I am in commiffion, my dear, that's all.

Bel. So I fuppofe, indeed.

Fad. Nay, Charles, if I tell thee a lie, cut my throat. The short of the matter is, the old poacher, finding me in the fecret, thought it the wifeft way to make a confident of me; and this very moment, my dear, I am upon the wing to provide lodgings for the occafion.

Bel. If this fhould be apocryphal, as my father fays— Fad. Gofpel every fyllable, as I hope to be faved. Why, what, in the devil's name, have I to do, to be inventing lies for thee? But here comes the old gentleman again, faith-Oh, the devil! [Afide.] Pr'ythee, ftroke him down a little, Charles, if 'tis only to fee how awkward he takes it-I muft about the lodgings, ha, ha, ha! But if ever I fet foot in this houfe again, may a horfe-pond be my portion. [Afide, and exit.

Enter Sir Charles, with a letter in his hand, speaking to a

Servant.

Sir Cha. Bid him wait a little, and I'll attend him. [Exit Servant.] What can this mean ?-Let me read it again. [Reads.] If the intereft of Sir Charles Raymond's family be dear to him, he will follow the bearer with the fame hatte that he would fhun ruin."- -That he would fhun ruin! This is ftrange! But, be it as it will, I have another concern, that must take place first.

Bel. Sir Charles, your fervant. Any news, Sir?

Sir Cha. Not much, Sir; only, that a young gentleman, of honour and condition, had introduced a virtuous lady to his family; and when a worthless fellow defamed her innocence, and robbed her of her quiet, he, who.

might have dried her tears, and vindicated her virtue, forfook her in her injuries, to debauch his mind with the affaffin of her reputation.

Bel. If your tale ends there, Sir, you have learned but half on't; for my advices add, that a certain elderly gentleman, of title and fortune, pitying the forlorn circumstances of the lady, has offered her terms of friendship and accommodation; and this night fhe bids farewel to maidenhood, and a female bedfellow in private apart.

ments,

Sir Cha. You treat me lightly, Mr. Belmont.
Bel. You ufe me roughly, Sir Charles.

Sir Cha. How, Sir?

Bel. In the person of Fidelia.

Sir Cha. Make it appear, and you shall find me a very boy in my fubmiffions.

Bel. 'Twould be time loft; and I can employ it to advantage. But remember, Sir, that this houfe is another's, not yours; that Fidelia is under my direction, not yours; and that my will must determine her removal, not yours.

Sir Cha. Is he your flaye, Sir, to bear the burden of your infults without complaining, or the right of chufing another master?

Bel. And who fhall be that master? You, Sir? The poor bird, that would escape the kite, is like to find warm protection from the fox.

Sir Cha. Pr'ythee, think me a man, and treat me as fuch.

Bel. As the man I have found you, Sir Charles. Your grave deportment, and honefty of heart, are covers only for wantonnefs and defign. You preach up temperance and fobriety to youth, to monopolize, in age, the vices you are unfit for.

Sir Cha. Hark you, young man-you must curb this impetuous fpirit of yours, or I fhall be tempted to teach you manners, in a method difagreeable to you.

Bel. Learn them first yourfelf, Sir. You fay Fidelia is infulted by me; how is it made out? Why, truly, I would poffefs her without marriage!-I would fo. Mar riage is the thing I would avoid: 'tis the trick of priests, to make men miferable, and women infolent. I have dealt plainly, and told her fo. Have you faid as much?

E

No;

No; you wear the face of honefty, to quiet her fears; that when your blood boils, and fecurity has ftolen away her guard, you may rush at midnight upon her beauties, and do the ravage you are fworn to protect her from.

Sir Cha. Hold, Sir. You have driven me beyond the limits of my patience; and I must tell you, young man, that the obligations I owe your father, demand no returns that manhood muft blufh to make: Therefore, hold, I fay; for I have a fword to do me juftice, tho' it fhould leave my dearest friend childless.

Bel. I fear it not.

Sir Cha. Better tempt it not; for your fears may come too late. You have dealt openly with Fidelia, you fay: deal fo for once with me, and tell me, whence came that vile fcroll to Rofetta this afternoon?

Bel. It feem's, then, I wrote it. You dare not think fo. Sir Cha. I dare speak, as well as think, where honour directs me.

Bel. You are my accufer, then?

Sir Cha. When I become fo, I fhall take care, Mr. Belmont, that the proof waits upon the accufation. B. I difdain the thought.

Sir Cha. Better have difdained the deed.

Bel. I do both-and him that fufpects me.

Sir Cha. Away! You fear him that fufpects you; and have difdained neither the thought nor the deed. Bel. How, Sir?

[Drawing. Sir Cha. Put up your fword, young man, and use it in a better caufe: this is a vile one. And now you fhall be as ftill thro' fhame, as you have been loud thro' pride. You fhould have known, that cowards are unfit for fecrets. Bel. And if I had, Sir?

Sir Cha. Why, then, Sir, you had not employed fuch a wretch as Faddle, to write that letter to Rofetta. Bel. The villain has betrayed me! But I'll be fure on't. [Afide.] He durft not say I did.

Sir Cha. You fhould rather have built your innocence upon the probability of his unfaying it; for the fame fear that made him confefs to me, may make him deny every fyllable to you.

Bel. What has he confeffed, Sir?

Sir Cha. That, to-day, at dinner, you prompted the

letter