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With a young boy, sweet as his mother's beauty.
May he live to prove more gentle than his grandsire,
And happier than his father.

Pri. No more.
Jaff. Yes, all; and then-

-adieu for ever.
'There's not a wretch, that lives on common charity,
But's happier than I: for I have known
The luscious sweets of plenty ; every night
Have slept with soft content about my head,
And never wak'd but to a joyful morning ;
Yet now must fall; like a full ear of corn,
Whose blossom 'scap'd, yet's wither'd in the ripening.

Pri. Home, and be humble ; study to retrench;
Discharge the lazy vermin of thy hall

,
Those pageants of thy folly ;
Reduce the glitt'ring trappings of thy wife
To humble weeds, fit for thy little state :
Then to some suburb cottage both retire :
Drudge to feed loathsome life : get brats and starve.
Home, homo, I say.-

[Exit.
Jaff. Yes if my heart would let me-
This proud, this swelling heart; home would I go,
But that my doors are hateful to my eyes,
Fill'd and damm'd up with gaping creditors.
I've now not fifty ducats in the world ;
Yet still I am in love, and pleas'd with ruin.

Belvidera! Oh, she is my wife !-
And we will bear our wayward fate together-
But ne'er know comforċ more.

IV.-Boniface and Aimwell.
Bon. THIS way, this way, Sir.
Aim. You're my landlord, I suppose.

Bon. Yes, Sir, I'm old Will Boniface ; pretty well known upon this road, as the saying is. Aim. O, Mr. Boniface, your servant.

Bon. O, Sir, What will your honour please to drink, as the saying is?

Aim. I have heard your town of Litchfield much famed for ale : I think I'll taste that.

Bon. Sir, I have now in my cellar ten tuns of the best ale in Staffordshire ; 'tis smooth as oil, sweet as milk, clear as amber, and strong as brandy; and will be just fourtee vears old the fifth day of next March, old style.

your ale.

Aim. You're very exact, I find, in the age

of Bon. As punctual, Sir, as I am in the age

of
my

children I'll show you such ale !-Here, tapster, broach number 1706, as the saying is--Sir, you shall taste my anno Domini. -I have lived in Litchfield, man and boy, above eight and fifty years, and I believe, have not consumed eight and fifty ounces of meat.

Arm. At a meal, you mean, if one may guess by your bulk.

Bon. Not in my life, Sir, I have fed purely upon ale ; I have eat my ale, drank my ale, and I always sleep upon ale. [Enter tapster, with a tankard.] Now, Sir, you shall seeYour worship’s health ; (drinks]-Ha! delicious, delicious! -Fancy it Burgundy, only fancy it,—and 'tis worth ten shillings a quart.

Aim. [Drinks] 'Tis confounded strong.

Bon. Strong!' it must be xo, or how should we be strong that drink it ?

Aim. And have you lived so long upon this ale, landlord?

Bon. Eight and fifty years, upon my credit, Sir: but it killd my wife, poor woman, as the saying is. Aim. How came that to pass

? Bon. I don't know how, Sir,--she would not let the ale take its natural course, Sir; she was for qualifying it every now and then with a dram, as the saying is ; and an honest gentleman that came this way from Ireland, made her a present of a dozen bottles of usquebaugh—but the poor woman was never well aster-but however, was obliged to the gentleman, you know.

Aim. Why, was it the usquebaugh that kill'd her ?

Bon. My lady Bountiful said so--she, good lady, did what could be done : she cured her of three tymponies; but the fourth carried her off. But she's happy, and I'm contented, as the saying is.

Aim. Who is that lady Bountiful you mentioned ? Bon. Odd's my life, Sir, we'll drink ber health : [drinks] -My lady Bountiful is one of the best of women. Her last husband, Sir Charles Bountiful, left her worth a thousand pounds a year; and I believe she lays out one half on't in charitable uses, for the good of her neighbours.

Aim. Has the lady been any other way useful in her ge(xeration ? 1. Bon. Yes, Sir, she has had a daughter by Sir Charles ;

de finest woman in all our country, and the greatest fortune H

-Sir, my

She has a son too, by her first husband ; 'squire Sullen, who married a fine lady from London t'other day; if you please, Sir, we'll drink his health. [drinks ]

Aim. What sort of a man is he?

Bon. Why, Sir, the man's well enough ; says little, thinks less, and does nothing at all, faith : but he's a man of great estate, and values nobody. Aim. A sportsman, I suppose

? Bon. Yes, he's a man of pleasure ; he plays at whist, and smokes his pipe eight and forty hours together seinetimes.

Aim. A fine sportsman, truly!- Ind married, you say ?

Bon. Ay; and to a curious woman, Sir. -But he's my landlord; and so a man, you know, would nothumble service to you. [drinks]— Though I value not a farthing what he can do to me; I pay him his rent at quarter day: I have a good running trade-I have but one daughter, and I can give her-but no matter for that.

Aim. You're very happy, Mr. Boniface; pray, What other company

have

you in town? Bon. A power of fine ladies; and then we have the French officers

Aim. O, that's right, you have a good many of those gentlemen : pray how do you like their company po

Bon. So well, as the saying is, that I could wish we had as many more of them. They're full of money, and

pay double for every thing they have. They know, Sir, that we paid good round taxes for the taking of 'em ; and so they are willing to reimburse us a little ; one of 'em lodges in my house. (Bell rings)- I beg your worship's pardon-I'll wait on you again in half a minute.

V.-Lovegold and Lappet. Love. ALL's well hitherto; my dear money is safe.- Is it you, Lappet!

Lap. I should rather ask if it be you, Sir ; why, you look so young and vigorous

Love. Do I? Do I?

Lap. Why, you grow younger and younger every day, Sir ; you never looked half so young in your life, Sir, as you

Why, Sir, I know fifty young fellows of five and twenty, that are older than you are.

Love. That may be, that may be, Lappet, considering the lives they lead ; and yet I am a good ten years above fifty

Dd

do now.

Lap. Well, and what's ten years above fifty ? 'Tis the very flower of a man's age. Why, Sir, you are now in the very prime of

your

life. Love. Very true, that's very true, as to understanding; but I am afraid, could I take off twenty years, it would do me no harm with the ladies, Lappet.--How goes on our affair with Mariana ? Have you mentioned any thing about what her mother can give her ? For nowadays nobody marries a woman, unless she bring something with her besides a petticoat.

Lap. Sir, why, Sir, this young lady will be worth to you as good a thousand pounds a year, as ever was told. Love. How! A thousand pounds a year

? Lap. Yes, Sir. There's in the first place, the article of a table; she has a very little stomach ;- she does not eat above an ounce in a fortnight; and then, as to the quality of what she eats, you'll have no need of a French cook upor her account. As for sweetmeats, she mortally hates them; so there is the article of desserts wiped off all at once. You'll have no need of a confectioner, who would be eternally bringing in bills for preserves, conserves, biscuits, comfits, and jellies, of which half a dozen ladies would swallow you ten pounds worth at a meal. This, I think, we may very moderately reckon at two hundred pounds a year *t least.--For clothes, she has been bred up at such a plainness in them, that should we allow but for three birthnight suits a year, saved, which are the least a town lady would expect, there go a good two hundred pounds a year more. For jewels (of which she hates the very sight) the yearly interest of what you must lay out in them would amount to one hundred pounds.-Lastly, she has an utter detestation for play, at which I have known several moderate ladies lose a good two thousand pounds a year.--Now, let us take only the fourth part of that, which amounted to five hundred, to which if we add two hundred pounds on the table account, two hundred pounds in clothes, and one hundred pounds in jewels--there is, Sir, your thousand pounds a year, in hard money.

Love. Ay, ay, these are pretty things; it must be confessed, very pretty things, but there is nothing real in them.

Lap. How, Sir! Is it not something real to bring you a vast store of sobriety, the inheritance of a love for simplicity of losgy and a vast acquired fund of hatred for play?

Love. This is downright raillery, Lappet, to make me up a fortune out of the expenses she won't put me to.But there is another thing that disturbs me. You know this girl is young, and young people general.y love one another's company; it would ill agree with a person

of

my temper to keep an assembly for all the young rakes, anal flaunting girls in town.

Lap. Ah, Sir, how little do you know of her! This is another particularity that I had to tell you of ;-she has a most terrible aversion to young people, and loves none but persons of your years. I would advise you, above all things, to take care not to appear too young. She insists on sixty at least: She says that fifty-six years are not able to content her.

Love. This humour is a little strange, methinks.

Lap. She carries it further; Sir, than can be imagined. She has in her chamber several pictures ; but, what do you think they are ? None of your smockfaced young fellows, your Adonises, your Parises, and your Apolloes: No, Sir, you see nothing there, but your handsome figures of Saturn, king Priam, old Nestor, and good father Anchises upon his son's shoulders.

Love. Admirable! This is more than I could have hoped ; to say the truth, had I been a woman, I should never have loved young fellows.

Lap. I believe you : pretty sort of stuff, indeed, to be in love with your young fellows ! Pretty masters, indeed, with their fine complexions, and their fine feathers !

Love. And do you really think me pretty tolerable ?

Lap. Tolerable! You are ravishing : If your picture was. drawn by a good hand, Sir, it would be invaluable! Turn about a little, if you please--there, what can be more charming ? Let me see you walk-there's a person für

you; tall

, straiglıt, free, and degagee : Why, Sir, you have no fault about you.

Love. Not many-hem-hem-not many, I thank Heaven; only a few rheumatic pains now and then, and a small catarrh that seizes me sometimes.

Lap. Ah, Sir, that's nothing ; your catarrh sits very well upon you, and you cough with a very good grace.

Love. But tell me, what does Mariana say of my pereon ?

Lap. She has a particular pleasure in talking of it; and

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