Char. O, Charles! you have an honest, but proud heart.

tune.

Stock. Hey-day, what's become of Belcour? Lou. One of your servants called him out just now, and seemingly on some earnest occasion.

Stock. I hope, Miss Dudley, he has atoned to you as a gentleman ought?

Lou. Mr Belcour, sir, will always do what a gentleman ought—and, in my case, I fear only you will think he has done too much.

Stock. What has he done? and what can be too much? Pray, Heaven, it may be as I wish!

[Aside.

ned wife.

Stock. Himself?

Lou. 'Tis true.

Stock. Then, I am happy: all my doubts, my cares are over, and I may own him for my son. Why, these are joyful tidings: come, my good friend, assist me in disposing your lovely daughter to accept this returning prodigal : he is no unprincipled, no hardened libertine; his love for you and virtue is the same.

Dud. Twere vile ingratitude in me to doubt his merit-What says my child?

O'Fla. Begging your pardon now, 'tis a frivolous sort of a question, that of yours; for you may see plainly enough, by the young lady's looks, that she says a great deal, though she speaks never a word.

Cha. Well, sister, I believe the major has fairly interpreted the state of your heart."

Lou. I own it; and what must that heart be, which love, honour and benevolence, like Mr Belcour's, can make no impression on?

Stock. I thank you. What happiness has this hour brought to pass!

O'Fla. Why don't we all sit down to supper, then, and make a night on't?

Stock. Hold, here comes Belcour.

BELCOUR introducing MISS RUSPORT.

Bel. Mr Dudley, here is a fair refugee, who properly comes under your protection: she is equipt for Scotland; but your good fortune, which I have related to her, seems inclined to save you both the journey- -Nay, madam, never go back; you are amongst friends.

Cha. Charlotte!

Char. The same; that fond officious girl, that haunts you every where; that persecuting spirit

Cha. Say rather, that protecting angel: such you have been to me,

VOL II.

O'Fla. Be advised now, and don't put yourself in such a passion; we were all very happy till

you came.

Lady Rus. Stand away, sir! have not I a rea son to be in a passion?

O'Fla. Indeed, honey, and you have, if you knew all.

Lady Rus. Come, madam, I have found out your haunts; dispose yourself to return home with me. Young man, let me never see you within my doors again. Mr Stockwell, I shall report your behaviour, depend upon it.

Stock. Hold, madam; I cannot consent to lose Miss Rusport's company this evening, and I am persuaded you won't insist upon it: 'tis an unmotherly action to interrupt your daughter's happiness in this manner; believe me it is.

Lady Rus. Her happiness, truly! upon my word! and I suppose 'tis an uninotherly action to interrupt her ruin; for, what but ruin must it be to marry a beggar? I think my sister had a proof of that, sir, when she made choice of you. [To CAPT. DUDLEY. Dud. Don't be too lavish of your spirits, lady Rusport.

O'Fla. By my soul, you'll have occasion for a sip of the cordial elixir, by and by.

Stock. It don't appear to me, madam, that Mr Dudley can be called a beggar.

Lady Rus. But it appears to me, Mr Stockwell-I am apt to think a pair of colours cannot furnish settlement quite sufficient for the heiress of sir Stephen Rusport.

Char. But a good estate, in aid of a commission, may do something.

Lady Rus. A good estate, truly! where should he get a good estate, pray?

Stock. Why, suppose now a worthy old gentleman, on his death bed, should have taken it in inind to leave him one

Lady Rus, Ha! what's that you say? 6 C

O'Fla. O ho! you begin to smell a plot, do you?

Stock. Suppose there should be a paper in the world that runs thus- - I do hereby give and bequeath all my estates, real and personal, to Charles Dudley, son of my late daughter, Lou'isa,' &c. &c. &c.

Lady Rus. Why, I am thunderstruck! By what contrivance, what villainy, did you get possession of that paper?

Stock. There was no villainy, madam, in getting possession of it: the crime was in concealing it, none in bringing it to light.

Lady Rus. Oh, that cursed lawyer, Varland! O'Fla. You may say that, faith! he is a cursed lawyer, and a cursed piece of work I had to get the paper from him. Your ladyship now was to have paid him five thousand pounds for it-I forced him to give it me of his own accord, for nothing at all, at all.

Lady Rus. Is it you that have done this? Am I foiled by your blundering contrivances, after all?

O'Fla. 'Twas a blunder, faith, but as natural a one as if I had made it o' purpose.

Cha. Come, let us not oppress the fallen; do right even now, and you shall have no cause to complain.

Lady Rus. Am I become an object of your pity, then? Insufferable! Confusion light amongst you! Marry and be wretched: let me never see [Exit. Char. She is outrageous; I suffer for her, and blush to see her thus exposed.

you more.

Cha. Come, Charlotte, don't let this angry woman disturb our happiness: we will save her in spite of herself; your father's memory shall not be stained by the discredit of his second

choice.

Char. I trust implicitly to your discretion, and am in all things yours.

Bel. Now, lovely but obdurate, does not this example soften?

Lou. What can you ask for more? Accept my hand, accept my willing heart.

Stock. You have a father: did not I tell you I had a discovery to make? Compose yourself : you have a father, who observes, who knows, who loves you.

Bel. Keep me no longer in suspense! my heart is softened for the affecting discovery, and nature fits me to receive his blessing. Stock. I am your father. Bel. My father! Do I live? Stock. I am your father.

Bel. It is too much; my happiness overpowers me: to gain a friend, and find a father, is too much: I blush to think how little I deserve you. [They embrace.

Dud. See, children, how many new relations spring from this night's unforeseen events, to endear us to each other.

O'Fla. O' my conscience, I think we shall be all related by and by.

Stock. How happily has this evening concluded, and yet how threatening was its approach! Let us repair to the supper-room, where I will unfold to you every circumstance of my mysterious story. Yes, Belcour, I have watched you with a patient, but inquiring eye; and I have discovered, through the veil of some irregularities, a heart beaming with benevolence, an animated nature, fallible, indeed, but not incorrigible; and your election of this excellent young lady makes me glory in acknowledging you to be my son.

house.

Enter MRS HARDCASTLE and MR HARDCASTLE

Mrs Hard. I vow, Mr Hardcastle, you're very particular. Is there a creature in the whole country, but ourselves, that does not take a trip to town now and then, to rub off the rust a little! There's the two Miss Hoggs, and our neighbour, Mrs Grigsby, go to take a month's polishing every winter.

Hord. Ay, and bring back vanity and affectation to last them the whole year. I wonder why London cannot keep its own fools at home. In my time, the follies of the town crept slowly

stage-coach. Its fopperies come down, not only as inside passengers, but in the very basket.

Mrs Hard. Ay, your times were fine times, indeed : : you have been telling us of them for many a long year. Here we live in an old rumbling mansion, that looks for all the world like, an inn, but that we never see company. Our best visitors are old Mrs Oddfish, the curate's wite and little Cripplegate, the lame dancing master; and all our entertainment your old stories of Prince Eugene and the duke of Marlboroug. I hate such old-fashioned trumpery.

Hard. And I love it. I love every thing that's old old friends, old times, old manners, old books, old wine; and, I believe, Dorothy, [To

king her hand.] you'll own I have been pretty fond of an old wife.

Mrs Hard. Lord, Mr Hardcastle, you're for ever at your Dorothy's, and your old wife's. You may be a Darby, but I'll be no Joan, I promise you. I'm not so old as you'd make me by more than one good year. Add twenty to twenty, and make money of that.

Hard. Let me see-twenty added to twenty, makes just fifty and seven.

Mrs Hard. Its false, Mr Hardcastle: I was but twenty when I was brought to bed of Tony, that I had by Mr Lumpkin, my first husband: and he's not come to years of discretion yet.

Hard. Nor ever will, I dare answer for him. Ay, you have taught him finely.

Mrs Hard. No matter, Tony Lumpkin has a good fortune. My son is not to live by his learning. I don't think a boy wants much learning to spend fifteen hundred a year.

Hard. Learning, quotha! a mere composition of tricks and mischief.

Mrs Hard. Humour, my dear: nothing but humour. Come, Mr Hardcastle, you must allow the boy a little humour.

Hard. I'd sooner allow him an horse-pond. If burning the footmen's shoes, frighting the maids, worrying the kittens, be humour, he has it. It was but yesterday he fastened my wig to the back of my chair, and when I went to make a bow, I popt my bald head in Mrs Frizzle's face.

Mrs Hard. And am I to blame? The poor boy was always too sickly to do any good. A school would be his death. When he comes to be a little stronger, who knows what a year or two's Latin may do for him?

Hard. Latin for him! A cat and a fiddle. No, no; the ale-house and the stable are the only schools he'll ever go to.

Mrs Hard. Well, we must not snub the poor boy now, for I believe we shan't have him long among us. Any body that looks in his face may see he's consumptive.

Hard. Ay, if growing too fat be one of the symptoms.

Mrs Hard. He coughs sometimes.
Hard. Yes, when his liquor goes the wrong

way.

Mrs Hard. I'm actually afraid of his lungs. Hard. And truly so am I; for he sometimes whoops like a speaking trumpet-[Tony hallooing behind the scenes.]-O there he goes!-A very consumptive figure, truly!

Enter TONY, crossing the stage. Mrs Hard. Tony, where are you going, my charmer? Won't you give papa and I a little of your company, lovee?

Tony. I'm in haste, mother; I cannot stay.

Mrs Hard. You shan't venture out this raw evening, my dear: You look most shockingly.

Tony. I can't stay, I tell you. The Three Pi

Mrs Hard. Pray, my dear, disappoint them for one night at least!

Tony. As for disappointing them, I should not so much mind; but I can't abide to disappoint myself.

Mrs Hard. [Detaining him.] You shan't go. Tony. I will, I tell you.

Mrs Hard. I say, you shan't. Tony. We'll see which is strongest, you or I. [Exit, hawling her out.

Hard. Ay, there goes a pair that only spoil each other. But is not the whole age in a combination to drive sense and discretion out of doors? There's my pretty darling Kate; the fashions of the times have almost infected her, too. By living a year or two in town, she is as fond of gauze, and French frippery, as the best of them.

Enter MISS HARDCASTLE.

Blessings on my pretty innocence !-Drest out as usual, my Kate. Goodness! What a quantity of superfluous silk hast thou got about thee, girl! I could never teach the fools of this age, that the indigent world could be clothed out of the trimmings of the vain.

Miss Hard. You know our agreement, sir.— You allow me the morning to receive and pay visits, and to dress in my own manner; and, in the evening, I put on my housewife's dress to please you.

Hard. Well, remember, I insist on the terms of our agreement; and, by the by, I believe I shall have occasion to try your obedience this very evening.

Miss Hard. I protest, sir, I don't comprehend your meaning.

Hard. Then, to be plain with you, Kate, I expect the young gentleman, I have chosen to be your husband, from town this very day. I have his father's letter, in which he informs me his son is set out, and that he intends to follow himself shortly after.

Miss Hard. Indeed! I wish I had known something of this before! Bless me, how shall I behave? It is a thousand to one I shan't like him; our meeting will be so formal, and so like a thing of business, that I shall find no room for friendship or esteem.

Hard. Depend upon it, child, I'll never controul your choice: but Mr Marlow, whom I have pitched upon, is the son of my old friend