put into your bill of rates on this occasion. Yet, sir, I have made no objections to your son's family; it is his morals that I doubt. Sir J. Sir, I can't help saying, that what might injure a citizen's credit, may be no stain to a gentleman's honour. Seal. Sir John, the honour of a gentleman is liable to be tainted by as small a matter as the credit of a trader: we are talking of a marriage; and, in such a case, the father of a young woman will not think it an addition to the honour or credit of her lover, that he is a keeper Sir J. Mr. Sealand, don't take upon you to spoil my son's marriage with any woman else. Tom. It will be very decent, indeed, for me to retire, and leave my mistress with another man. Phil. He is a gentleman, and will treat one properly. Tom. I believe so; but, however, I won't be far off; and, therefore, will venture, to trust you. I'll call him to you. [Exit. Re-enter TOM, with MYRTLE. Phil. What a deal of pother and sputter here is between my mistress and Mr. Myrtle from mere punctilio! I could, any hour of the day, get her to her lover, and would do it; but she, forsooth, will allow no plot to get him; but if he can come to her, I know she would be glad of it. I must, therefore, do her an acceptable violence, and surprise her into Seal. Sir John, let him apply to any woman else, his arms. I am sure, I go by the best rule imaginand have as many mistresses as he pleases. [man. able: if she were my maid, I should think her the Sir J. My son, sir, is a discreet and sober gentle-best servant in the world for doing so by me. Seal. Sir, I never saw a man that wenched soberly and discreetly that ever left it off; the decency observed in the practice hides, even from the sinner, the iniquity of it. [a gentleman of merit. Sir J. But my son, sir, is, in the eye of the world, Seal. I own to you I think him so. But, Sir John, I am a man exercised and experienced in chances and disasters; I lost, in my early years, a very fine wife, and with her a poor little infant: this makes me, perhaps, over cautious to preserve the second bounty of Providence to me, and be as careful as I can of this child. You'll pardon me; my poor girl, sir, is as valuable to me as your boasted son to you. Sir J. Why, that's one very good reason, Mr. Sealand, why I wish my son had her. Seal. There is nothing but this strange lady here, this incognita, that can be objected to him. Here and there a man falls in love with an artful creature, and gives up all the motives of life to that one passion. Sir J. A man of my son's understanding cannot be supposed to be one of them. Seal. Very wise men have been 30 enslaved; and when a man marries with one of them upon his hands, whether moved from the demand of the world, or slighter reasons, such a husband soils with his wife for a month, perhaps; then, good b'ye, madam; the shew's over. Ah! John Dryden points out such a husband to a hair, where he says, “And while abroad so prodigal the dolt is, Poor spouse at home as ragged as a colt is." Now, in plain terms, sir, I shall not care to have my poor girl turned a grazing; and that must be the case when Sir J. But, pray, consider, sir, my son Seal. Look you, sir, I'll make the matter short. This unknown lady, as I told you, is all the objection I have to him; but, one way or other, he is or has been certainly engaged to her. I am, therefore, resolved this very afternoon to visit her. Now, from her behaviour or appearance, I shall soon be let into what I may fear or hope for. Sir J. Sir, I am very confident there can be nothing inquired into relating to my son, that will not, upon being understood, turn to his advantage. Seal. I hope that as sincerely as you believe it. Sir John Bevil, when I am satisfied in this great point, if your son's conduct answers the character you give him, I shall wish your alliance more than that of any gentleman in Great Britain; and so your servant. [Exit. Sir J. He is gone in a way but barely civil; but his great wealth, and the merit of his only child, the heiress of it, are not to be lost for a little peevish[Exit. ness. SCENE III.-Bevil's Lodgings. Phil. But you must leave me alone with him, for he can't make me a present, nor I so handsomely take anything from him before you; it would not be decent. Ob, sir! you and Mr. Bevil are fine gentlemen, to Myr. Tom has been telling-but what is to be Phil. What is to be done? When a man can't come at his mistress, why can't you fire our house, or the next house to us, to make us run out, and you take us? Myr. How, Mrs. Phillis? Phil. Ay, let me see that rogue deny to fire a house, make a riot, or any other little thing, when there were no other way to come at me. Tom. I am obliged to you, madam. Phil. Why, don't we hear every day of people's hanging themselves for love, and won't they venture the hazard of being hanged for love? Oh! were I a man Myr. What manly thing would you have me undertake, according to your ladyship's notion of a man? Phil. Only be at once what one time or other you may be, and wish to be, and must be. Myr. Dear girl, talk plainly to me, and consider I, in my condition, can't be in very good humour. You say, to be at once what I must be. Phil. Ay, ay; I mean no more than to be an old man. In a word, old Sir Geoffry Cimberton is every hour expected in town to join in the deeds and settlements for marrying Mr. Cimberton. He is half blind, half lame, half deaf, half dumb; though, as to his passions and desires, he is as warm and ridiculous as when in the heat of youth. Tom. Come, to the business; and don't keep the gentleman in suspense for the pleasure of being courted, as you serve me. Phil. I saw you at the masquerade act such an one to perfection. Go and put on that very habit, and come to our house as Sir Geoffry. There is not one there but myself knows his person. I was born in the parish where he is lord of the manor; I have seen him often and often at church in the country. Do not hesitate, but come thither. They will think you bring a certain security against Mr. Myrtle, and you bring Mr. Myrtle. Leave the rest to me. I leave this with you, and expect-they don't, I told you, know you; they think you out of town; which you had as good be for ever, if you lose this opportunity. I must be gone; I know I am wanted at home. Myr. My dear Phillis! (Catches and kisses her, and gives her money.) Phil. Oh, fie! my kisses are not my own; you have committed violence; but I'll carry them to the right owner. (Tom kisses her.) Come, see me down stairs, (to Tom) and leave the lover to think of his last game for the prize. [Exeunt Tom and Phil. Myr. I think I will instantly attempt this wild expedient. But I am so mortified at this conduct of mine towards poor Bevil: he must think meanly of me. I know not how to reassume myself, and be in spirit enough for such an adventure as this; Myr. Only, madam, that the first time you are alone with your lover, you will, with open arms, ACT V.-SCENE I.-Sealand's House. Enter PHILLIS, with lights, before MYRTLE, disguised like Sir Geoffry Cimberton; supported by MRS. SEALAND, LUCINDA, and CIMBERTON. Mrs. S. Now I have seen you thus far, Sir Geoffry, will you excuse me a moment while I give my necessary orders for your accommodation? [Exit. Myr. I have not seen you, cousin Cimberton, since you were ten years old; and as it is incumbent on you to keep up your name and family, I shall, upon very reasonable terms join with you in a settlement to that purpose, though I must tell you, cousin, this is the first merchant that has married into our house. Luc. Deuce on 'em! am I a merchant because my father is? (Aside.) Myr. But is he directly a trader at this time? Cim. There's no hiding the disgrace, sir? he trades to all parts of the world. Myr. We never had one of our family before who descended from persons that did anything. Cim. Sir, since it is a girl that they have, I am, for the honour of my family, willing to take it in again, and to sink her into our name, and no harm done. [this the young thing? Myr. 'Tis prudently and generously resolved. Is Cim. Yes, sir. Phil. Good madam! don't be out of humour, but let them run to the utmost of their extravagance: hear them out. (Apart to Lucinda.) [weak. Myr. Can't I see her nearer? my eyes are but Phil. Beside, I am sure the uncle has something worth your notice. I'll take care to get off the young one, and leave you to observe what may be wrought out of the old one for your good. [Apart, and exit. Cim. Madam, this old gentleman, your great uncle, desires to be introduced to you, and to see you nearer. Approach, sir. Myr. By your leave, young lady. (Puts on his spectacles.) Cousin Cimberton, she has exactly that sort of neck and bosom for which my sister Gertrude was so much admired in the year sixty-one, before the French dresses first discovered anything in women below the chin. Luc. Chin, quotha! I don't believe my passionate lover there knows whether I have one or not. Ha, ha! Re-enter PHillis. Phil. Sir, my lady desires to shew the apartment to you that she intends for Sir Geoffry. (To Cimberton.) Cim. Well, sir, by the time you have sufficiently gazed and sunned yourself in the beauties of my spouse there, I will wait on you again. [Exeunt Cimberton and Phillis. Myr. Were it not, madam, that I might be troublesome, there is something of importance, though we are alone, which I would say more safe from being heard. Luc. There is something in this old fellow, methinks, that raises my curiosity. (Aside.) Myr. To be free, madam, I as heartily contemn this kinsman of mine as you do, and am sorry to see so much beauty and merit devoted by your parents to so insensible a possessor. Luc. Surprising! I hope then, sir, you will not contribute to the wrong you are so generous to pity, whatever may be the interest of your family. Myr. This hand of mine shall never be employed to sign anything against your good and happiness. Luc. I am sorry, sir, it is not in my power to make you proper acknowledgments; but there is a gentleman in the world, whose gratitude will, I am sure, be worthy of the favour. [power to give. Myr. All the thanks I desire, madam, are in your Luc. Name them, and command them. receive him. Luc. As willingly as heart could wish it. [cinda! Myr. Thus then he claims your promise. Oh, LuLuc. Oh! a cheat, a cheat, a cheat! [self, madam. Myr. Hush! 'tis I, 'tis I, your lover; Myrtle himLuc. Oh, bless me! what rashness and folly to surprise me so! But, hush! my motherRe-enter MRS. SEALAND, CIMBERTON and PHILLIS. Mrs. S. How now, what's the matter? Luc. Oh! madam, as soon as you left the room, my uncle fell into a sudden fit, and-and-so I cried out for help to support him, and conduct him to his chamber. [you find yourself? Mrs. S. That was kindly done. Alas! sir, how do Myr. Never was taken in so odd a way in my life. Pray, lead me- -Oh! I was talking here-pray, carry me to my cousin Cimberton's young lady(Cimberton and Lucinda lead him as one in pain.) Cim. Plague, uncle, you will pull my ear off. Luc. Pray, uncle, you will squeeze me to death. Mrs. S. No matter, no matter; he knows not what he does. Come, sir, shall I help you out! Myr. By no means; I'll trouble nobody but my young cousins here. [Exeund. SCENE II.-Charing Cross. Enter SEALAND and HUMPHREY. Seal. I am very glad, Mr. Humphrey, that you agree with me, that it is for our common good I should look thoroughly into this matter. Hum. I am, indeed, of that opinion; for there is no artifice, nothing concealed in our family, which ought in justice to be known. I need not desire yon, sir, to treat the lady with care and respect. Seal. Master Humphrey, I shall not be rude, tho I design to be a little abrupt, and come into the mat ter at once, to see how she will bear upon a surprise. Hum. That's the door : sir, I wish you success. [Exit. Seal. (Knocks.) I'll carry this matter with an ar of authority, to inquire, though I make an errand to begin discourse. (Knocks again.) Enter a Footboy. So, young man, is your lady within? Boy. Alack! sir, I am but a country boy; I don't know whether she is or noa; but, an' you'll stay a bit, I'll go and ask the gentlewoman that's with her. Seal. Why, sirrah, though you are a country boy, you can see, can't you? you know whether she is at home when you see her, don't you? Boy. Nay, nay; I'm not such a country lad, neither, master, to think she is at home because I see her; I have been in town but a month, and I lost one place already for believing my own eyes. Seal. Why, sirrah, bave you learned to lie already! Boy. Ah! master, things that are lies in the coun try are not lies at London; I begin to know my business a little better than so; but, an' you please la walk in, I'll call a gentlewoman to you that can tell you for certain; she can make bold to ask my lady herself. [dare not say so. Seal. Oh! then, she is within, I find, though you Boy. Nay, nay; that's neither here nor there; what's matter whether she is within or no, if she bas not a mind to see anybody? Seal. I can't tell, sirrah, whether you are arch or simple; but, however, get me a direct answer, and here's a shilling for you. [can do for you. Boy. Will you please to walk in? I'll see what I Seal. I see you will be fit for your business in time, child; but I expect to meet with nothing but extraordinaries in such a house. [Pray, walk in. Boy. Such a house, sir! you ha'n't seen it yet. Seal. Sir, I'll wait upon you. [Exeunt. SCENE III-Indiana's House. Enter ISABELLA and Footboy. Isa. So, Daniel, what news with you! Boy. Madam, there's a gentleman below would speak with my lady. Isa. Sirrah, don't you know Mr. Bevil yet? Boy. Madam, 'tis not the gentleman who comes every day and asks for you, and won't go in till he knows whether you are with her or no. Isa. Ha! that's a particular I did not know before. Well, be who it will, let him come up to me. [Exit Footboy. Re-enter Footboy, with SEALAND. Isabella looks amazed. Seal. Madam, I can't blame your being a little surprised to see a perfect stranger make a visit, and Isa. I am, indeed, surprised. I see he does not know me. (Aside.) Seal. You are very prettily lodged here, madam; in troth, you seem to have everything in plenty. A thousand a year, I warrant you, upon this pretty nest of rooms, and the dainty one within them. (Aside, and looks about.) Isa. Twenty years, it seems, have less effect in the alteration of a man of thirty, than of a girl of fourteen: he's almost still the same. How shall I contain my surprise and satisfaction? He must not know me yet. (A side.) Seal. Madam, I hope I don't give you any disturbance? but there is a young lady here with whom I have a particular business to discourse; and I hope she will admit me to that favour. Isa. Why, sir, have you had any notice concerning her? I wonder who could give it you. Seal. That, madam, is fit only to be communicated to herself. Isa. Well, sir, you shall see her; you shall see her presently, sir; for now I am as a mother, and will trust her with you. [Exit. Seal. As a mother! right: that's the old phrase for one of those commode ladies, who lend out beauty for hire to young gentlemen that have pressing occasions. But here comes the precious lady herself: in troth, a very sightly woman! Enter INDIANA. Ind. I am told, sir, you have some affair that requires your speaking with me. Seal. Yes, madam. There came to my hands a bill drawn by Mr. Bevil, which is payable to-morrow; and he, in the intercourse of business, sent it to me, who have cash of his, and desired me to send a servant with it; but I have made bold to bring you the money myself. Ind. Sir, was that necessary? Seal. No, madam; but, to be free with you, the fame of your beauty, and the regard which Mr. Bevil is a little too well known to have for you, excited my curiosity. Ind. Too well known to have for me! Your sober appearance, sir, which my friend described, made me expect no rudeness, or absurdity at least. Who's there! Sir, if you pay the money to a servant, 'twill be as well. Seal. Pray, madam, be not offended; I came hither on an innocent, nay, a virtuous, design; and if you will have patience to hear me, it may be as useful to you, as you are in friendship with Mr. Bevil, as to my only daughter, whom I was this day disposing of. Ind. You make me hope, sir, I have mistaken you: I am composed again. Be free; say on-what I am afraid to hear. (Aside.) Seal. I feared, indeed, an unwarranted passion here; but I did not think it was in abuse of so worthy an object, so accomplished a lady, as your sense and mien bespeak: but the youth of our age care not what merit and virtue they bring to shame, so they gratify Ind. Sir, you are going into very great errors; but as you are pleased to say you see something in me that has changed, at least, the colour of your suspicions, so has your appearance altered mine, and made me earnestly attentive to what has any way concerned you to inquire into my affairs and character. Seal, How sensibly, with what an air, she talks! (Aside.) Ind. Good sir, be seated, and tell me tenderlykeep all your suspicions concerning me alive, that you may, in a proper and prepared way, acquaint me why the care of your daughter obliges a person of your seeming worth and fortune to be thus inquisitive about a wretched, helpless, friendless(weeps)-But I beg your pardon; though I am an orphan, your child is not; and your concern for her, it seems, has brought you hither. I'll be composed: pray, go on, sir. Seal. How could Mr. Bevil be such a monster to injure such a woman? Ind. No, sir, you wrong him; he has not injured me: my support is from his bounty. Seal. Bounty! when gluttons give high prices for delicates, they are prodigious bountiful. Ind. Still, still you will persist in that error; but my own fears tell me all. You are the gentleman, I suppose, for whose happy daughter he is designed a husband by his good father? and he has, perhaps, consented to the overture; and he is to be, perhaps, this night, a bridegroom. Seal. I own he was intended such; but, madam, on your account I am determined to defer my daughter's marriage till I am satisfied, from your own mouth, of what nature are the obligations you are under to him. Ind. His actions, sir, his eyes, have only made me think he designed to make me the partner of his heart. The goodness and gentleness of his demeanour made me misinterpret all; 'twas my own hope, my own passion, that deluded me. He never made one amorous advance to me; his large heart and bestowing hand have only helped the miserable: nor know I why, but from his mere delight in virtue,. that I have been his care, the object on which to indulge and please himself with pouring favours. Seal. Madam, I know not why it is, but I, as well as you, am, methinks, afraid of entering into the matter I came about; but 'tis the same thing as if we had talked ever so distinctly; he ne'er shall have a daughter of mine. Ind. If you say this from what you think of me, you wrong yourself and him. Let not me, miserable though I may be, do injury to my benefactor: no, sir, my treatment ought rather to reconcile you to his virtues. If to bestow, without a prospect of return; if to delight in supporting what might, perhaps, be thought an object of desire, with no other view than to be her guard against those who would not be so disinterested; if these actions, sir, can, in a careful parent's eye, commend him to a daughter, give your's, sir; give her to my honest, generous Bevil! What have to do but sigh and weep, to rave, run wild, a lunatic in chains; or hid in darkness, mutter in distracted starts and broken accents my strange, strange story! Seal. Take comfort, madam. Ind. All my comfort must be to expostulate in madness, to relieve with frenzy my despair, and shrieking to demand of fate why, why was I born to such a variety of sorrows? Seal. If I have been the least occasion Ind. No, 'twas heaven's high will I should be such to be plundered in my cradle, tossed on the seas, and even there, an infant captive, to lose my mother, hear but of my father, to be adopted, lose my adopter, then plunged again in worse calamities. Seal. An infant captive! Ind. Yet, then, to find the most charming of mankind once more to set me free from what I thought the last distress; to load me with his services, his bounties, and his favours; to support my very life in a way that stole my very soul itself from me. Seal. And has young Bevil been this worthy man? Ind. Yet, then again, this very man to take another, without leaving me the right, the pretence, of easing my fond heart with tears! for, oh! I can't reproach him, though the same hand that raised me to this height now throws me down the precipice. Seal. Dear lady, oh! yet, one moment's patience; my heart grows full with your affliction: but yet, there's something in your story that promises relief, when you least hope it. Ind. My portion here is bitterness and sorrow. Seal. Do not think so. Pray, answer me; does Bevil know your name and family? Ind. Alas! too well. Oh! could I be any other thing than what I am! I'll tear away all traces of my former self, my little ornaments, the remains of my first state, the hints of what I ought to have been. (In her disorder she throws away her bracelet, which Sealand takes up, and looks earnestly at it.) Seal. Ha! what's this? my eyes are not deceived! It is, it is the same; the very bracelet which I bequeathed my wife at our last mournful parting. Ind. What said you, sir? your wife! Whither does my fancy carry me? what means this new-felt motion at my heart? And yet, again, my fortune but deludes me; for if I err not, sir, your name is Sealand; but my lost father's name wasSeal. Danvers, was it not? [family. Ind. What new amazement! that is, indeed, my Seal. Know, then, when my misfortunes drove me to the Indies, for reasons too tedious now to mention, I changed my name of Danvers into Sealand. Re-enter ISABELLA. Isa. If there yet wants an explanation of your wonder, examine well this face; your's sir, I well remember. Gaze on, and read in me your sister Seal. My sister! [Isabella. Isa. But here's a claim more tender yet: your Indiana, sir, your long-lost daughter. Seal. Oh! my child, my child! Ind. All-gracious heaven! is it possible? do I embrace my father? Seal. And do I hold thee? These passions are too strong for utterance. Rise, rise, my child, and give my tears their way. Oh! my sister! (Embraces Isa.) Isa. Now, dearest niece, if I have wronged thy noble lover with too hard suspicions, my just concern for thee, I hope, will plead my pardon. Seal. Oh! make him, then, the full amends, and be yourself the messenger of joy: fly this instant: tell him all these wondrous turns of Providence in his favour; tell him I have now a daughter to bestow which he no longer will decline; that this day he still shall be a bridegroom; nor shall a fortune, the merit which his father seeks, be wanting. Tell him the reward of all his virtues waits on his acceptance. [Exit Isabella.] My dearest Indiana! Ind. Have I, then, at last, a father's sanction on my love? his bounteous hand to give, and make my heart a present worthy of Bevil's generosity? Seal. Oh! my child, how are our sorrows past o'erpaid by such a meeting! Though I have lost so many years of soft, paternal dalliance with thee, yet in one day to find thee thus, and thus bestow thee, in such perfect happiness, is ample, ample reparation; and yet, again, the merit of thy lover Ind. Oh! had I spirits left to tell you of his actions, the pride, the joy of his alliance, sir, would warm your heart, as he has conquered mine. Seal. How laudable is love when born of virtue! I burn to embrace him. Ind. See, sir, my aunt already has succeeded, and brought him to your wishes. Re enter ISABELLA, with SIR JOHN BEVIL, Bevil, MRS. SEALAND, CIMBERTON, MYRTLE, and LUCINDA. Sir J. Where, where's this scene of wonder? Mr. Sealand, I congratulate, on this occasion, our mutual happiness. Your good sister, sir, has, with the story of your daughter's fortune, filled us with surprise and joy. Now all exceptions are removed; my son has now avowed his love, and turned all former jealousies and doubts to approbation; and, I am told, your goodness has consented to reward him. Seal. If, sir, a fortune equal to his father's hopes can make this object worthy his acceptance. Bevil. I hear your mention, sir, of fortune with pleasure only, as it may prove the means to reconcile the best of fathers to my love: let him be provident, but let me be happy. My ever destined, my acknowledged wife! (Embraces Indiana.) Ind. Wife! oh! my ever loved, my lord, my master. Sir J. I congratulate myself as well as you that I have a son who could, under such disadvantages, discover your great merit. Seal. Oh! Sir John, how vain, how weak, is bu man prudence! what care, what foresight, what imagination, could contrive such blest events to make our children happy, as Providence, in one short hour, has laid before us? Cim. I am afraid, madam, Mr. Sealand is a little too busy for our affair; if you please, we'll take another opportunity. (To Mrs. Sealand.) Mrs. S. Let us have patience, sir. Cim. But we make Sir Geoffry wait, madam. Myr. Oh! sir, I'm not in haste. (During this, Bevil presents Lucinda to Indiana.) Seal. But here, here's our general benefactor. Excellent young man! that could be at once a lover to her beauty, and a parent to her virtue! Bevil. If you think that an obligation, sir, give me leave to overpay myself in the only instance that can now add to my felicity, by begging you to bestow this lady on Mr. Myrtle. Seal. She is his, without reserve. I beg he may be sent for. Mr. Cimberton, notwithstanding you never had my consent, yet there is, since I saw you, another objection to your marriage with my daughter. Cim. I hope, sir, your lady has concealed nothing from me? Seal. Troth, sir, nothing but what was concealed from myself; another daughter, who has an un doubted title to half my estate. Cim. How, Mr. Sealand? why, then, if half Mrs. Lucinda's fortune is gone, you can't say that any of my estate is settled upon her: I was in treaty for the whole; but if that's not to be come at, to be sure there can be no bargain. Sir, I have nothing to de but to take my leave of your good lady, my cousin and beg pardon for the trouble I have given this old gentleman. Myr. That you have, Mr. Cimberton, with all my heart. (Discovers himself.) All. Mr. Myrtle! Myr. And I beg pardon of the whole company that I assumed the person of Sir Geoffry only to be present at the danger of this lady's being disposed of; and, in the utmost exigence, to assert my right to her, which, if her parents will ratify, as they once favoured my pretensions, no abatement of for tune shall lessen her value for me. Mrs. S. Well, however, I'm glad the girl's dis posed of any way. (Aside.) Bevil. Myrtle, no longer rivals now, but brothers. Myr. Dear Bevil! you are born to triumph over me, but now our competition ceases. I rejoice in the pre-eminence of your virtue, and your alliance adds charms to Lucinda. Sir J. Now, ladies and gentlemen, you have set the world a fair example; your happiness is owing to your constancy and merit, and the several dishculties you have struggled with evidently shew Whate'er the gen'rous mind itself denies, The secret care of Providence supplies. [Exeunt. A COMEDY, IN THREE ACTS.-BY THOMAS HOLCROFT. 291 鈉 Susan. I won't lie in this chamber. Fig. Why so? Susan. I don't like it. Fig. Your reason. Susan. What if I have no reason? What if I best don't choose to give my reason? Thou knowest how our generous Count, when he, by thy help, obtained Rosina's hand, and made her Countess of Almaviva, during the first transports of love, abolished a certain Gothic right Fig. Of sleeping the first night with every bride. Susan. Which, as lord of the manor, he could claim. Fig. Know it? To be sure I do; or I would not have married even my charming Susan in his domain. Susan. Tired of prowling among the rustic beauties of the neighbourhood, he returned to the castleFig. And his wife. Susan. And thy wife. Dost thou understand me? Susan. And endeavours, secretly, to re-purchase from her a right, which he now most sincerely repents he ever parted with. Fig. Most gracious penitent! Susan. This is what he hints to me every instant; and this, the faithful Basil, the honest agent of his pleasures, and our most noble music-master, every day repeats with my lesson. Fig. Basil! Susan. Basil. Fig. Indeed! Well, if tough ashen-plant, or supple-jack twine not round thy lazy sides, rascal Susan. Ha, ha, ha! Why, wert thou ever wise enough to imagine that the portion the Count intends to give us, was meant as a reward for thy services? Fig. I think I had some reason to hope as much. Susan. Lord, Lord! what great fools are you men Fig. I believe so. [of wit! Susan. I am sure so. Fig. Oh! that it were possible to deceive this arch deceiver, this lord of mine! A thousand blundering boobies have had art enough to filch a wife from the side of her sleeping, simple, unsuspecting spouse; and, if he complained, to redress his injuries with a cudgel: but, to turn the tables on this poacher, make him pay for a delicious morsel he shall never taste, infect him with fears for his own honour, and Susan. (Bellrings.) Hark! my lady rings: I must run; for she has several times strictly charged me to be the first person at her breakfast the morning Fig. Why the first? [of my marriage. Susan. The old saying tells us, that it's lucky to a neglected wife to meet a young bride on the morning of her wedding-day. [Exit. Fig. Ah! my sweet girl! She's an angel! Such wit, such grace, and so much prudence and modesty, too! I'm a happy fellow!-So, Mr. Basil, is it me, rascal, you mean to practise the tricks of your trade upon? I'll teach you to put your spoon in my milk. But, hold! a moment's reflection, friend Figaro, on the events of the day: first, thou must promote the sports and feastings already projected, that appearances may not cool, but that thy marriage may proceed with greater certainty; next, thou must-Ha! here again? Enter SUSAN, with the Countess's gown, cap, and riband, in her hand. Susan. It wasn't my lady's bell; she has left her |