SCENE I.-Lincoln's Inn.

Enter SAVILLE, followed by a Servant. Sav. Lincoln's Inn! Well, but where to find him, now I am in Lincoln's Inn? Where did he

say his master was?

Sere. He only said in Lincoln's Inn, sir. Sac. That's pretty! And your wisdom never inquired at whose chambers?

Sere. Sir, you spoke to the servant yourself. Sar. If I was too impatient to ask questions, you ought to have taken directions, blockhead!

Enter COURTALL, singing. Ha, Courtall! Bid him keep the horses in motion, and then inquire at all the chambers round. [Exit Servant.] What the devil brings you to this part of the town? Have any of the long robes handsome wives, sisters, or chambermaids?

Court. Perhaps they have; but I came on a different errand; and had thy good fortune brought such here half-an-hour sooner, I'd have given thee such a treat. Ha, ha, ha!

Sav. I'm sorry I missed it: what was it? Court. I was informed a few days since, that my consins Fallow were come to town, and desired earnestly to see me at their lodgings in WarwickCourt, Holborn. Away drove I, painting them all the way as so many Hebes. They came from the farthest part of Northumberland, had never been in

town; and, in course, were made up of rusticity, innocence, and beauty.

Sav. Well?

Court. After waiting thirty minutes, during which there was a violent bustle, in bounced five sallow damsels,-four of them maypoles; the fifth, nature, by way of variety, had bent the Æsop style. But they all opened at once, like hounds on a fresh scent:"Oh, cousin Courtall! How do you do, cousin Courtall? Lord! cousin, I am glad you are come! We want you to go with us to the Park, and the plays, and the opera, and Almack's, and all the fine places!" The devil, thought I, my dears, may attend you, for I am sure I won't. However, I heroically stayed an hour with them, and dis covered the virgins were all come to town with the hope of leaving it wives: their heads full of knightbaronights, fops, and adventures.

Sav. Well, how did you get off?

Court. Oh! pleaded a million engagements. However, conscience twitched me; so I breakfasted with them this morning, and afterwards 'squired them to the gardens here, as the most private place in town; and then took a sorrowful leave, complaining of my hard, hard fortune, that Ha, ha, ha! obliged me to get off immediately for Dorsetshire.

Sav. I congratulate your escape! Courtall at Almack's, with five awkward country cousins! Ha, ha, ha! Why, your existence, as a man of gallantry, could never have survived it.

Court. Death and fire! had they come to town,

like the rustics of the last age, to see St. Paul's, the lions, and the wax-work-at their service; but the cousins of our days come up ladies; and, with the knowledge they glean from magazines and pocket-books, fine ladies; laugh at the bashfulness of their grandmothers, and boldly demand their entrées in the first circles.

Sav. Come give me some news. I have been at war with woodcooks and partridges these two months, and am a stranger to all that has passed out of their region.

Court. Oh! enough for three gazettes. The ladies are going to petition for a bill, that, during the war, every man may be allowed two wives.

Sav. Tis impossible they should succeed, for the majority of both houses know what it is to have

Sav. I came to meet my friend Doricourt; who, you know, is lately arrived from Rome.

Court. Arrived! Yes, faith, and has cut us all out. His carriage, his liveries, his dress, himself, are the rage of the day. His first appearance set the whole ton in a ferment; and his valet is besieged by levees of tailors, habit-makers, and other ministers of fashion, to gratify the impatience of their customers for becoming a-la-mode de Doricourt. Nay, the beautiful Lady Frolic, t'other night, with two sister countesses, insisted upon his waistcoat for muffs; and their snowy arms now bear it in triumph about town, to the heart-rending affliction of all our beaux garçons.

Sav. Indeed! Well, those little gallantries will soon be over; he's on the point of marriage.

Court. Marriage! Doricourt on the point of marriage! 'Tis the happiest tidings you could have given, next to his being hanged. Who is the bride elect?

Sav. I never saw her; but 'tis Miss Hardy, the rich heiress. The match was made by the parents, and the courtship began on their nurses' knees. Master used to crow at miss, and miss used to chuckle at master.

Court. Oh! then by this time, they care no more for each other, than I do for my country cousins. Sav. I don't know that; they have never met since thus high; and so, probably, have some regard for each other.

Court. Never met! Odd!

Sav. A whim of Mr. Hardy's; he thought his daughter's charms would make a more forcible impression, if her lover remained in ignorance of them till his return from the continent.

Enter SAVILLE's Servant,

Serv. Mr. Doricourt, sir, has been at Counsellor Pleadwell's, and gone about five minutes. [Exit.

Sav. Five minutes! Zounds! I have been five minutes too late all my life-time! Good morrow, Courtall; I must pursue him. (Going.)

Court. Promise to dine with me to-day; I have some honest fellows. (Going off.)

Sav. Can't promise; perhaps I may. See there! there's a bevy of female Patagonians coming down upon us!

warmth of this embrace speak the pleasure of my heart.

Sav. Well, this is some comfort, after the scurvy reception I met with in your hall. I prepared my mind, as I came up stairs, for a bon jour, a grimace,

and an adieu.

Doric. Why so?

Sav. Judging of the master from the rest of the family. What the devil is the meaning of that flock of foreigners below, with their parchment faces and snuffy whiskers? What! can't an Englishman stand behind your carriage, buckle your shoe, or brush your coat?

Doric. Stale, my dear Saville, stale! Englishmen make the best soldiers, citizens, artizans, and philosophers in the world; but the very worst footmen. I keep French fellows and Germans as the Romans kept slaves-because their own countrymen had minds too enlarged and haughty to descend with a grace to the duties of such a sta

tion.

Sav. A good excuse for a bad practice.

Doric. On my honour, experience will convince you of its truth. A Frenchman neither hears, sees, nor breathes, but as his master directs; and his whole system of conduct is comprised in one short word-obedience! An Englishman reasons, forms opinions, cogitates, and disputes; one is the mere creature of your will: the other, a being conscious of equal importance in the universal scale with yourself, and is therefore your judge, whilst he wears your livery, and decides on your actions with the freedom of a censor.

Sav. And this in defence of a custom I have heard you execrate, together with all the adventitious manners imported by our travelled gentry. Now to start a subject which must please you. When do you expect Miss Hardy?

Doric. Oh! the hour of expectation is past. She is arrived, and I this morning had the honour of an interview at Pleadwell's. The writings were ready; and, in obedience to the will of Mr. Hardy, we met to sign and seal.

Sav. Has the event answered? Did your heart leap or sink, when you beheld your mistress?

Doric. 'Faith, neither one nor t'other. She's a fine girl, as far as mere flesh and blood goes;

but

Sav. Is not that enough?

Doric. No! she should have spirit! fire! l'air enjoué! that something, that nothing, which every body feels, and which nobody can describe, in the resiatless charmers of Italy and France.

kept me from travel! I would not have lost my Sav. Thanks to the parsimony of my father, that relish for true, unaffected English beauty, to have been quarrelled for by all the belles of Versailles and Florence.

'tis insipidity; it wants the zest-it wants poigDoric. Pho! thou hast no taste. English beauty! nancy, Frank! Why, I have known a Frenchwoman, indebted to nature for no one thing but a pair of decent eyes, reckon in her suite as many counts,

[Exit.

SCENE II.—An Apartment at Doricourt's.
Enter DORICOURT.

Doric. (Speaking to a Servant behind.) I shall be too late for St. James's; bid him come immediately.

three dozen of our first-rate toasts. I have known an Italian marquizina make ten conquests in stepping from her carriage; and carry her slaves from one city to another, whose real, intrinsic beauty would have yielded to half the little grisettes that pace your Mall on a Sunday.

Sav. And has Miss Hardy nothing of this?

Enter SAVILLE.

necessity of news, French fleets, and Spanish captures with her father.

Sav. So, Miss Hardy, with only beauty, modesty, and merit, is doomed to the arms of a husband who will despise her.

Doric. You are unjust. Though she has not inspired me with violent passion, my honour secures her felicity.

Sav. Come, come, Doricourt; you know very well, that when the honour of a husband is locumtenens for his heart, his wife must be as indifferent as himself, if she is not unhappy.

Doric. Pho! never moralize without spectacles. But as we are upon the tender subject, how did you bear Touchwood's carrying off Lady Frances? Sav. You know I never looked up to her with hope; and Sir George is every way worthy of her. Doric. A-la-mode Angloise; a philosopher, even in love.

Sav. Come, I detain you; you seem dressed at all points, and of course have an engagement.

Doric. To St. James's. I dine at Hardy's, and accompany them to the masquerade in the evening. But breakfast with me to-morrow, and we'll talk of our old companions; for I swear to you, Saville, the air of the continent has not effaced one youth fal prejudice or attachment.

Sar. With an exception to the case of ladies and servants.

Doric. True! there I plead guilty. But I have never yet found any man, whom I could cordially take to my heart and call friend, who was not born beneath a British sky, and whose heart and manners were not truly English. [Exeunt.

SCENE III-An Apartment in Mr. Hardy's house. VILLERS seated on a sofa, reading. Enter FLUTTer.

Flut. Ha! Villers, have you seen Mrs. Rackett? Miss Hardy, I find, is out.

Vil. I have not seen her yet. I have made a voyage to Lapland since I came in. (Flinging away the book.) A lady at her toilette is as difficult to be moved as a Quaker. (Yawning.) What events have happened in the world since yesterday? bave you heard?

Flat. Oh, yes! I stopped at Tattersall's as I came by, and there I found Lord James Jessamy, Sir William Wilding, and Mr.-But, now I think on't, you sha'n't know a syllable of the matter; for I have been informed you never believe above one balf of what I say.

Vil. My dear fellow, somebody has imposed upon you most egregiously! Half! why, I never believe one-tenth part of what you say: that is aocording to the plain and literal expression; but, as I understand you, your intelligence is amusing.

Flut. That's very hard now, very hard. I never related a falsity in my life, unless I stumbled on it by mistake; and if it were otherwise, your dull, matter-of-fact people are infinitely obliged to those warm imaginations which soar into fiction to amuse you; for, positively, the common events of this little dirty world are not worth talking about, unless you embellish them. Ha! here comes Mrs. Racket. Adieu to weeds, I see! All life!

Enter MRS. RACKET.

Enter, madam, in all your charms! Villers has been abusing your toilette, for keeping you so long; but I think we are much obliged to it, and so are you.

Mrs. R. How so, pray? Good morning t'ye both. Here, here's a hand a piece for you. (They kiss her hands.)

Flut. How so? because it has given you so many beauties.

Mrs. R. Delightful compliment! What do you think of that, Villers?

Vil. That he and his compliments are alike— showy, but won't bear examining. So you brought Miss Hardy to town last night?

Mrs. R. Yes; I should have brought her before, but I had a fall from my horse, that confined me a week. I suppose in her heart she wished me hanged a dozen times an hour. Flut. Why?

Mrs. R. Had she not an expecting lover in town all the time? She meets him this morning at the lawyer's. I hope she'll charm him; she's the sweetest girl in the world.

Vil. Vanity, like murder, will out. You have convinced me you think yourself more charming. Mrs. R. How can that be?

Vil. No woman ever praises another, unless she thinks herself superior in the very perfections she allows.

Flut. Nor no man ever rails at the sex, unless he is conscious he deserves their hatred.

Mrs. R. Thank ye, Flutter; I'll owe ye a bouquet for that. I am going to visit the new married Lady Frances Touchwood. Who knows her husband?

Flut. Every body.

Mrs. R. Is there not something odd in the character?

Vil. Nothing, but that he is passionately fond of his wife; and so petulant in his love, that he opened the cage of a favourite bullfinch, and set it to catch butterflies, because she rewarded its song with her kisses.

Mrs. R. Intolerable monster! Such a brute de

serves

Vil. Nay, nay, nay, nay; this is your sex now. Give a woman but one stroke of character, off she goes like a ball from a racket; sees the whole man, marks him down for an angel or a devil, and so exhibits him to her acquaintance. This monster! this brute! is one of the worthiest fellows upon earth sound sense and a liberal mind; but doats on his wife to such excess, that he quarrels with every thing she admires, and is jealous of her tippet and nosegay.

:

Mrs. R. Oh! less love for me, kind Cupid! I can see no difference between the torment of such an

affection, and hatred.

Flut. Oh! pardon me, inconceivable difference, inconceivable; I see it as clearly as your bracelet. In the one case, the husband would say, as Mr. Snapper said t'other day, "Zounds! madam, do you tures"-Apropos, des Bottes: there was the disuppose that my table, and my house, and my picvinest Plague of Athens sold yesterday at Langford's! The dead figures so natural; you would have sworn they had been alive. Lord Primrose bid five hundred; six, said Lady Carmine; a thousand, said Ingot the nabob. Down went the hamA rouleau for your bargain, said Sir Jeremy Jingle. And what answer do you think Ingot made

mer.

him?

Mrs. R. Why, took the offer.

Flut. "Sir, I would oblige you, but I buy this picture to place in the nursery; the children have already got Whittington and his Cat! 'tis just this size, and they'll make good companions."

Mrs. R. Ha, ha, ha! Well, I protest that's just the way now; the nabobs and their wives outbid one at every sale, and the creatures have no more taste

Vil. There again! You forget this story is told by Flutter, who always remembers every thing but the circumstances and the person he talks about. 'Twas Ingot who offered a rouleau for the bargain, and Sir Jeremy Jingle who made the reply.

Flut. Egad! I believe you are right. Well, the

story is as good one way as t'other, you know. Good morning. I am going to Mrs. Crotchet's.

Flut. (Turning back.) Done! my tailor's-bill has not been paid these two years; and I'll open my mouth with as much care as Mrs. Bridget Button, who wears cork plumpers in each cheek, and never hazards more than six words for fear of shewing them. [Exit. Mrs. R. 'Tis a good-natured, insignificant creature! let in every where, and cared for no where. There's Miss Hardy returned from Lincoln's Inn: she seems rather chagrined.

Vil. Then I leave you to your communications.

Enter LETITIA, followed by her Maid. Adieu! I am rejoiced to see you so well, madam; but I must tear myself away.

Let. Don't vanish in a moment.

Vil. Oh, inhuman! you are two of the most dangerous women in town. Staying here to be cannonaded by four such eyes, is equal to a rencontre with Paul Jones, or a midnight march to Omoa! They'll swallow the nonsense for the sake of the compliment. (Aside.) [Exit. Let. (Gives her cloak to the maid.) Order Du Quesne never more to come again; he shall positively dress my hair no more. [Exit Maid.] And this odious silk, how unbecoming it is! I was bewitched to choose it. (Throwing herself on a chair, and looking in a pocket-glass; Mrs. Racket staring at her.) Did you ever see such a fright as I am to day?

Mrs. R. Yes, I have seen you look much worse. Let. How can you be so provoking? If I do not look this morning worse than ever I looked in my life, I am naturally a fright. You shall have it which way you will.

Mrs. R. Just as you please; but pray what is the meaning of all this?

Let. (Rising.) Men are all dissemblers, flatterers, deceivers! Have I not heard a thousand times of my hair, my eyes, my shape-all made for victory! and to day, when I bent my whole heart on one poor conquest, I have proved that all those imputed charms amount to nothing; for Doricourt saw them unmoved. A husband of fifteen months could not have examined me with more cutting indiffer

ence.

Mrs. R. Then you return it like a wife of fifteen months, and be as indifferent as he.

Let. Ay, there's the sting! the blooming boy that left his image in my young heart, is at fourand-twenty, improved in every grace that fixed him there. It is the same face that my memory and my dreams constantly painted to me; but its graces are finished, and every beauty heightened. How mortifying to feel myself at the same moment bis slave, and an object of perfect indifference to him!

Mrs. R. How are you certain that was the case? Did you expect him to kneel down before the lawyer, his clerks, and your father, to make oath of your beauty?

Let. No; but he should have looked as if a sadden ray had pierced him; he should have been breathless, speechless! for, oh! Caroline, all this was I!

Let. Nothing to complain of? Heavens! shall I marry the man I adore with such an expectation as that!

Mrs. R. And when you have fretted yourself pale, my dear, you'll have mended your expectation greatly.

Let. (Pausing.) Yet I have one hope. If there is any power whose peculiar care is faithful love, that power I invoke to aid me.

Enter MR. HARDY.

Har. Well, now, wasn't I right? Ay, Letty! ay. cousin Rackett! wasn't I right? I knew 'twould be so. He was all agog to see her before he went abroad; and if he had, he'd have thought no more of her face, may be, than his own.

Mrs. R. May be not half so much.

Har. Ay, may be so; but I see into things; exactly as I foresaw, to day he fell desperately in love with the wench. He, he, he!

Let. Indeed, sir! How did you perceive it? Har. That's a pretty question! How do I perceive every thing? How did I foresee the fall of corn, and the rise of taxes? How did I know that if we quarrelled with America, Norway deals would be dearer? How did I foretell that a war would sink the funds? How did I forewarn parson Homily, that if he didn't some way or the other contrive to get more votes than Rubric, he'd lose the lectureship? How did I-But what the devil makes you so dull, Letitia? I thought to have found you popping about as brisk as the jacks of your harpsichord.

Let. Surely, sir, 'tis a very serious occasion.

Har. Pho, pho! girls should never be grave before marriage. How did you feel, cousin, beforehand, eh?

Mrs. R. Feel! why exceedingly full of cares.
Har. Did you?

Mrs. R. I could not sleep for thinking of my coach, my liveries, and my chairmen. The taste of clothes I should be presented in, distracted me for a week; and whether I should be married in white or lilac, gave me the most cruel anxiety.

Let. And is it possible that you felt no other care?

Har. And, pray, of what sort may your cares be, Mrs. Letitia? I begin to foresee now that you have taken a dislike to Doricourt.

Let. Indeed, sir, I have not.

Har. Then what's all this melancholy about? A'n't you a going to be married? and what's more, to a sensible man; and what's more to a young girl, to a handsome man? And what's all this melancholy for, I say?

Mrs. R. Why, because he is handsome and sensible, and because she's over head and ears in love with him; all which, it seems, your foreknowledge had not told you a word of.

Let. Fie, Caroline!

Let. Your raillery distresses me; but I will touch his heart, or never be his wife.

whilst he was a-dying. “Ah!” said I, "I foresee you'll never live to see them come together; but their first son shall be christened Jeremiah, after you, that I promise you." But come, I say, what is the matter? Don't you like him?

Let. I fear, sir-if I must speak-I fear I was