bear to see her given to another, especially such a wretch as Tinsel.

ABIG. Well, tell me truly, Mr. Fantome, have not you a great opinion of my fidelity to my dear lady, that I would not suffer her to be deluded in this manner, for less than a thousand pound?

FANT. Thou art always reminding me of my promisethou shalt have it, if thou canst bring our project to bear; dost not know that stories of ghosts and apparitions generally end in a pot of money?

ABIG. Why, truly now, Mr. Fantome, I should think myself a very bad woman, If I had done what I do for a farthing less.

FANT. Dear Abigail, how I admire thy virtue!

ABIG. No, no, Mr. Fantome, I defy the worst of my enemies to say I love mischief for mischief's sake.

FANT. But is thy lady persuaded that I am the ghost of her deceased husband?

ABIG. I endeavour to make her believe so, and tell her every time your drum rattles, that her husband is chiding her for entertaining this new lover.

FANT. Prithee make use of all thy art, for I am tired to death with strolling round this wide old house, like a rat, behind a wainscot.

ABIG. Did not I tell you, 'twas the purest place in the world for you to play your tricks in? there's none of the family that knows every hole and corner in it, besides myself.

FANT. Ah! Mrs. Abigail! you have had your intrigues

ABIG. For you must know, when I was a romping young girl, I was a mighty lover of hide-and-seek.

FANT. I believe, by this time, I am as well acquainted with the house as yourself.

ABIG. You are very much mistaken, Mr. Fantome; but no matter for that; here is to be your station to-night. This is the place unknown to any one living, besides myself, since the death of the joiner; who, you must understand, being a lover of mine, contrived the wainscot to move to and fro, in the manner that you find it. I designed it for a wardrobe for my lady's cast clothes. Oh! the stomachers, stays, petticoats, commodes, laced shoes, and good things, that I have had in it—pray take care you don't break the cherry-brandy bottle that stands up in the corner.

FANT. Well, Mrs. Abigail, I hire this closet of you but for this one night—a thousand pound you know is a very good rent.

ABIG. Well, get you gone; you have such a way with you, there's no denying you anything!

FANT. I'm a thinking how Tinsel will stare when he sees me come out of the wall: for I'm resolved to make my appearance to night.

ABIG. Get you in, get you in, my lady's at the door.

FANT. Pray take care she does not keep me up so late as she did last night, or depend upon it I'll beat the

tattoo.

ABIG. I'm undone! I'm undone !-[As he is going in.] Mr. Fantome, Mr. Fantome, you have put the thousand pound bond into my brother's hands.

it.

FANT. Thou shalt have it, I tell thee, thou shalt have [Fantome goes in.

ABIG. No more words-vanish, vanish.

Enter LADY.

ABIG. [opening the door.] Oh, dear madam, was it you that made such a knocking? my heart does so beat-I vow you have frighted me to death-I thought verily it had been the drummer.

LADY. I have been showing the garden to Mr. Tinsel; he's most insufferably witty upon us about this story of the drum.

ABIG. Indeed, madam, he's a very loose man! I'm afraid 'tis he that hinders my poor master from resting in his grave.

LADY. Well! an infidel is such a novelty in the country, that I am resolved to divert myself a day or two at least with the oddness of his conversation.

ABIG. Ah, madam! the drum begun to beat in the house as soon as ever this creature was admitted to visit you. All the while Mr. Fantome made his addresses to you, there was not a mouse stirring in the family more than used to be

LADY. This baggage has some design upon me, more than I can yet discover. [Aside.]-Mr. Fantome was always thy favourite.

ABIG. Ay, and should have been your's too, by my consent! Mr. Fantome was not such a slight fantastic thing as this is.-Mr. Fantome was the best-built man one should see in a summer's day! Mr. Fantome was a man of honour, and loved you! poor soul! how has he sighed when he has talked to me of my hard-hearted lady.— Well! I had as lief as a thousand pounds you would marry Mr. Fantome!

LADY. To tell thee truly, I loved him well enough till I found he loved me so much. But Mr. Tinsel makes his court to me with so much neglect and indifference, and with such an agreeable sauciness-Not that I say I'll marry him.

ABIG. Marry him, quoth-a! no, if you should, you'll be awakened sooner than married couples generally are-You'll quickly have a drum at your window.

LADY. I'll hide my contempt of Tinsel for once, if it be but to see what this wench drives at.

[Aside.

ABIG. Why, suppose your husband, after this fair warning he has given you, should sound you an alarm at midnight; then open your curtains with a face as pale as my apron, and cry out with a hollow voice, "what dost thou do in bed with this spindle-shanked fellow?"

LADY. Why wilt thou needs have it to be my husband? he never had any reason to be offended at me. I always loved him while he was living, and should prefer him to any man, were he so still. Mr. Tinsel is indeed very idle in his talk, but I fancy, Abigail, a discreet woman might reform him.

ABIG. That's a likely matter indeed; did you ever hear of a woman who had power over a man, when she was his wife, that had none while she was his mistress! Oh! there's nothing in the world improves a man in his complaisance like marriage!

LADY. He is, indeed, at present, too familiar in his conversation.

ABIG. Familiar! madam, in troth, he's downright rude. LADY. But that you know, Abigail, shows he has no dissimulation in him-Then he is apt to jest a little too much upon grave subjects.

VOL. II.

P

ABIG. Grave subjects! he jests upon the church.

LADY. But that you know, Abigail, may be only to show his wit-Then it must be owned, he is extremely talkative.

ABIG. Talkative, d'ye call it! he's downright imperti

nent.

LADY. But that you know, Abigail, is a sign he has been used to good company-Then, indeed, he is very positive.

ABIG. Positive! why, he contradicts you in everything you say.

LADY. But then you know, Abigail, he has been educated at the inns of court.

ABIG. A blessed education indeed! it has made him forget his catechism!

LADY. You talk as if you hated him.

ABIG. You talk as if you loved him.

LADY. Hold your tongue! here he comes.

Enter TINSEL.

TINSEL. My dear widow!

ABIG. My dear widow! marry come up!

[Aside.

LADY. Let him alone, Abigail, so long as he does not call me my dear wife, there's no harm done.

TINSEL. I have been most ridiculously diverted since I left you—your servants have made a convert of my booby. His head is so filled with this foolish story of a drummer, that I expect the rogue will be afraid hereafter to go upon a message by moonlight.

LADY. Ah, Mr. Tinsel, what a loss of billet-doux would that be to many a fine lady!