has made this trial of your fidelity, and not resent his conduct? Lady P. Most assuredly I wish to return. But if you deliver me safe, perfectly safe from farther insult, it will be impossible for me not to shew some resentment to Lord Priory. Bronz. Why only in that case? Lady P. Because, only in that case, you will make an impression on my heart; and I will resent his having exposed me to such a temptation. Bronz. Oh! I'll take you home directly-this moment. I make an impression on your heart! William! (Calling.) I'll take you home directly. Here, John, Thomas, William! (Calling.) But, upon my life, it will be a hard task-I cannot do it -I am afraid-I am afraid I cannot. Besides, what are we to say when we go back? No matter what, so you will but think kindly of me. [Enter a Servant.] Order the horses to be put to the chaise; I am going back to London immediately. Serv. The chaise is ready now, sir; for the postboy was going back without unharnessing his horses. Bronz. Then tell him he must perform his journey in half-an-hour. If he is a moment longer, my resolution will stop on the road. [Exit Serv.] I feel my good designs stealing away already: now they are flying rapidly. Please to look another way; I shall certainly recant if I see you. (Going.) And, now, should I have the resolution to take you straight to your husband, you will have made a more contemptible figure of me by this last trick, than by any one you have played me. [Exeunt. Bronz. (Without.) Tell the post-boy he need not wait: I have changed my mind; I sha'n't go to London to-night. SCENE II.-A Room in a Prison. Enter MISS DORRILLON and MR. NORBERRY. Mr. N. You ought to have known it was in vain to send for me. Have not I repeatedly declared, that till I heard from your father, you should receive nothing more from me than a bare subsistence? I promise to allow you thus much, even in this miserable place; but do not indulge a hope that I can release you from it. (Going, returns.) I forgot to mention, that Mr. Mandred goes on board to-morrow for India; and, little as you may think of his sensibility, he seems concerned at the thought of quitting England without just bidding you farewell. He came with me hither; shall I send him up? Miss D. Oh! no: for heaven's sake! deliver me from his asperity, as you would save me from distraction. Mr. N. Nay, 'tis for the last time; you had better see him. You may be sorry, perhaps, you did not, when he is gone. Miss D. No, no; I sha'n't be sorry. Go, and excuse me; go and prevent his coming. I cannot see him. [Exit Mr. N.] This would be aggravation of punishment, to shut me in a prison, and yet not shelter me from the insults of the world. Enter SIR WILLIAM DORRILLON. Sir W. I know you have desired not to be troubled with my visit; and I come with all humility. I do not come, be assured, to reproach you. Miss D. Unexpected mercy! Sir W. No; though I have watched your course with anger, yet I do not behold its end with triumph. Miss D. It is not to your honour that you think it necessary to give this statement of your mind. Sir W. May be so; but I never boasted of perfection, though I can boast of grief that I am so far beneath it. I can boast, too, that though I frequently give offence to others, I could never part with any one for ever, (as I now shall with you,) without endeavouring to make some atonement. Miss D. You acknowledge, then, your cruelty to me? Sir W. I acknowledge I have taken upon me to advise, beyond the liberty allowed by custom, to one who has no apparent interest or authority. But, not to repeat what has passed, I come, with the approbation of your friend, Mr. Norberry, to make a proposal to you for the future. (They sit.) Miss D. What proposal? what is it? Sir W. Mr. Norberry will not give either his money or his word to release you; but as I am rich, have lost my only child, and wish to do some good with my fortune, I will instantly lay down the money of which you are in want, upon certain conditions. Miss D. Do I hear right? Is it possible I can find a friend in you? a friend to relieve me from the depth of misery? Oh! Mr. Mandred! Sir W. Before you return thanks, hear the conditions on which I make the offer. Miss D. Any conditions-what you please. Sir W. You must promise, never, never to return to your former follies and extravagances. Do you hesitate? Do you refuse? Won't you promise? Miss D. I would, willingly, but for one reason. Sir W. And what is that? Miss D. The fear I should not keep my word. Sir W. You will, if your fear be real. Miss D. It is real; it is even so great, that I have no hope. Sir W. You refuse my offer, then, and dismiss me? Miss D. With much reluctance. But I cannot, indeed I cannot make a promise, unless I were to feel my heart wholly subdued, and my mind entirely convinced that I should never break it. Sir, I am most sincerely obliged to you for the good, which, I am sure, you designed me; but do not tempt me with the proposal again; do not place me in a situation that might add to all my other afflictions, the remorse of having deceived you. Sir W. Well, I will dispense with this condition; but there is another I must substitute in its stead. Resolve to pass the remainder of your life, some few ensuing years, at least, in the country. Do you start at that! Miss D. I do not love the country; I am always miserable while I am from London. Besides, there are no follies or extravagances in the country. Dear sir, this is giving me up the first condition, and then forcing me to keep it. Sir W. There, madam, I scorn to hold out hopes, and then destroy them. There is a thousand pounds, free of all conditions; extricate yourself from this situation, and be your own mistress to return it when you please. (Going.) Miss D. Oh! my benefactor, bid me farewell at parting: do not leave me in anger. Sir W. How! will you dictate terms to me, while you reject all mine? Miss D. Then only suffer me to express my gra titude Sir W. I will not hear you. (Going.) Miss D. Then hear me on another subject: a subject of much importance; indeed it is. Sir W. Well! Miss D. You are going to India immediately: it is possible that there, or at some place you will stop at on your way, you may meet with my father. Sir W. Well! Miss D. You have heard that I have expected him home for some time past, and that I still live in hopesSir W. Well! Miss D. If you should see him, and be in bis company, don't mention me. Sir W. Not mention you? Miss D. At least, not my indiscretions. Ob! I should die if I thought he would ever know of them. Sir W. Do you think he would not discover them himself, should he ever see you? Miss D. But he would not discover them all at once; I should be on my guard when he first came. My ill habits would steal on bim progressively, and not be half so shocking as if you were to vociferate them all in a breath. Sir W. To put you out of apprehension at once, your father is not coming home; nor will he ever return to his own country. Miss D. You seem to speak from certain knowledge. Oh, heavens! is he not living? Sir W. Yes, living, but under severe affliction; fortune has changed, and all his hopes are blasted. Miss D. Fortune changed! in poverty? my father in poverty? (Weeping.) Oh! sir, excuse what may, perhaps, appear an ill compliment to your bounty; but to me, the greatest reverence I can pay to it. You are going to that part of the world where he is; take this precious gift back; search out my father, and let him be the object of your beneficence. I shall be happy in this prison, indeed I shall, so I can but give a momentary relief to my dear, dear father. You weep! This present, perhaps, would be but a poor alleviation of his sufferings; perhaps he is in sickness, or a prisoner. Oh! if he is, release me instantly, and take me with you to the place of his confinement. Sir W. What, quit the joys of London? Miss D. On such an errand I would quit them all without a sigh: and here I make a solemn promise to you-(Kneels.) Sir W. Hold! you may wish to break it. Miss D. Never! Exact what vow you will on this occasion, I will make and keep it. Enter MR. NORBERRY. Oh! Mr. Norberry, he has been telling me such things of my father. Mr. N. Has he! then kneel again; call him by that name, and implore him not to disown you for his child. Miss D. Good heaven! I dare not-I dare not do as you require. (She faints.) Sir W. (Going to her.) My daughter! my child! Mr. N. At those names she revives. (She raises her head.) Come, let us quit this wretched place; she will be better then. My carriage is at the door. You will follow us. [Exit, leading Miss D. Sir W. Follow you! Yes; and I perceive that, in spite of philosophy, justice, or resolution, I could follow you all the world over. [Exit. SCENE III.-Another Room in the Prison. LADY MARY RAFFLE discovered. Lady M. Provoking! not an answer to one of my pathetic letters! nor a creature to come and condole with me! Oh! that I could but regain my liberty before my disgrace is announced in the public prints! I could then boldly contradict every paragraph that asserted it, by "We have authority to say, no such event ever took place." Enter a Man belonging to the prison. Man. One Sir George Evelyn is here, madam; he will not name your name, because it sha'n't be made public; but he desires you will permit him to come and speak a few words to you, provided you are the young lady from Grosvenor-street, with whom he has the pleasure of being acquainted. Lady M. Yes, yes; I am the young lady from Grosvenor-street: my compliments to Sir George; I am that lady; intimately acquainted with him; and entreat he will walk up. [Exit the Man.] This is a most fortunate incident in my tragedy. Sir George, no doubt, takes me for Miss Dorrillon; yet, I am sure he is too much the man of gallantry and good breeding to leave me in this place, although he visits me by mistake. Enter SIR GEORGE EVELYN. Sir G. (Speaking as he enters.) Madam, you are free; the doors of the prison are open; my word is passed for.the-(Looks around, und expresses surprise.) Lady M. Sir George, I am under the most infinite obligation. Words are too poor to convey the sense I have of this act of friendship; but, I trust, my gratitude will for ever— Sir G. Madam, really, I ought to apologize for the liberty I have taken. Lady M. No liberty at all, Sir George; at least, no apology is necessary. I insist on hearing no excuses. A virtuous action requires no preface, no prologue, no ceremony: and, surely, if one action be more noble and generous than another, it must be that one, where an act of benevolence is conferred, and the object, an object of total indifference to the liberal benefactor. Generous man! good evening. Call me a coach. (Going.) Sir G. Stay, madam: I beg leave to sayLady M. Not a word: I won't hear a word: my thanks shall drown whatever you have to say. Re-enter the Man. Sir G. Pray, sir, did not you tell me you had a very young lady under your care? Man. Yes, sir, so I had; but she, it seems, has just been released, and is gone away with the gentleman who paid the debt. Lady M. Do you mean Miss Dorrillon. Man. I mean the other lady from Grosvenor street. Sir G. Who can have released ber? me. Lady M. Some friend of mine, I dare say, by mistake. Well, if it is so, she is extremely welcome to the good fortune which was designed for For my part, I could not submit to an obligation from every one-scarcely from any one-and from no one with so little regret as I submit to it from Sir George Evelyn. [Exit. Sir G. Distraction! the first disappointment is nothing to this second: to the reflection that Miss Dorrillon has been set at liberty by any man on earth except myself. [Exit. SCENE IV.-An Apartment at Mr. Norberry's. Enter LORD PRIORY. Lord P. What a situation is mine! I cannot bear solitude, and am ashamed to see company. I cannot bear to think on the ungrateful woman, and yet I can think of nothing else. It was her conduct which I imagined had alone charmed me; but I perceive her power over my heart, though that conduct is changed! Enter MR. NORBERRY, SIR WILLIAM DORRILLON, and Miss DORRILLON. Mr. N. My dear Lord Priory, exert your spirits to receive and congratulate a friend of mine: Sir William Dorrillon, (presenting him) father to this young woman, whose failings he has endeavoured to correct under the borrowed name of Mandred. Sir W. And with that fictitious name, I hope to disburthen myself of the imputation of having ever offered an affront to my Lord Priory. (Sir W. and Lord P. talk aside.) Enter SIR GEORGE EVELYN. Sir G. Is it possible what I have heard is true? Was it Mr. Mandred who has restored Miss Dor rillon to the protection of Mr. Norberry? have now taken her under my own protection. Sir W. (Coming forward.) No, Sir George; I Sir G. By what title, sir? Sir W. A very tender one: don't be alarmed; I am her father. Sir G. Sir William Dorrillon! (They talk apart.) Enter LADY MARY RAFFLE. Lady M. Has there been any intelligence of my Lady Priory yet? (Sees Miss D.) My dear Dorrillon, a lover of your's has done the civilest thing by me! As I live, here he is. How do you do, Sir George? I suppose you have all heard the news of Bronzely running away with Miss D. Hush! Lord Priory is here. Lady M. Oh! he knows it; and it is not improper to remind him of it; it will teach him humility. Lord P. I am humble, Lady Mary; and own I have had a better opinion of your sex than I ought to have had. Lady M. You mean, of your management of us; of your instructions, restrictions, and corrections. Enter a Servant. Serv. Lady Priory and Mr. Bronzely. [Exit. Lord P. I said she'd preserve her fidelity. Did not I always say so? Have I wavered once? Did I not always tell you that she was only making game of Bronzely? Did I not tell you all so ? Enter MR. BRONZELY and LADY PRIORY. Bronz. Then, indeed, my lord, you said truly; for I return the arrantest blockhead Lord P. I always said you would. But how is it? Where have you been? What occasion for a post-chaise? Instantly explain, or I shall forfeit that dignity of a husband to which, in these degenerate times, I have almost an exclusive right. Bronz. To reinstate you, my lord, in those honours, I accompany Lady Priory; and beg public pardon for the opinion I once publicly professed of your want of influence over her affections. Lord P. Do you hear? do you all hear? Lady Mary, do you hear? Bronz. Taking advantage of your permission to call on her, by stratagem, I induced her to quit your house, lest restraint might there act as my enemy. But your authority, your prerogative, your honour, attached to her under my roof. She has held those rights sacred, and compelled even me to revere them. Lord P. Do you all hear? I was sure it would turn out so. Lady M. This is the first time I ever knew the gallant's word taken for a woman's honour. Lord P. I will take her own word; the tongue which for eleven years has never in the slightest instance deceived me, I will believe upon all occasions. My dear wife, boldly pronounce before this company that you return to me with the same affection and respect, and the self-same contempt for this man (to Bronzely) you ever had. Lady M. She makes no answer. Lord P. Hush, hush! She is going to speak.Why, why don't you speak? Lady P. Because I am at a loss what to say. Lady M. Hear, hear, hear! do you all hear? Lord P. Can you be at a loss to declare you hate Mr. Bronzely? Lady P. I do not hate him. was sure it would turn out so. Lord P. You know I love truth; speak plainly to all their curiosity requires. Lady P. Since you command it, then, my lord, I confess that Mr. Bronzely's conduct towards me, has caused a kind of sentiment in my heartLord P. Ah! What? Lady M. You must believe her, she has told you truth for eleven years. Lady P. A sensation which Lord P. Stop! any truth but this I could have borne. Reflect on what you are saying; consider what you are doing. Are these your primitive manners? Lady P. I should have continued those manners, had I known none but primitive men. But to preserve ancient austerity, while, by my husband's consent, I am assailed by modern gallantry, would be the task of a Stoic, and not of his female slave. Lady M. Do you hear? Do you all hear? My lord, do you hear? Lord P. I do, I do; and, though the sound distracts me, I cannot doubt her word. Lady P. It gives me excessive joy to hear you say so; because you will not then doubt me when I add, that gratitude, for his restoring me so soon to you, is the only sentiment he has inspired. Lord P. Then my management of a wife is right, after all. Mr. N. Mr. Bronzely, as your present behaviour has, in a great measure, atoned for your former actions, I will introduce to your acquaintance, my friend Sir William Dorrillon. Bronz. Mandred, Sir William Dorrillon! Sir W. And considering, sir, that upon one or two occasions I have been honoured with your confidence, you will not be surprised, if the first command I lay upon my daughter, is, to take refuge from your pursuits, in the protection of Sir George Evelyn. Sir G. And may I hope, Maria? Miss D. No; I will instantly put an end to all your hopes. Sir G. How! Sir W. By raising you to the summit of your wishes. Alarmed at my severity, she has owned her readiness to become the subject of a milder government. Sir G. She shall never repine at the election she has made. Lord P. But, Sir George, if you are a prudent man, you will fix your eyes on my little domestic state, and guard against a rebellion. Lady P. Not the rigour of its laws has ever induced me to wish them abolished. Bronz. (To Lady P.) Dear lady, you have made me think with reverence on the matrimonial compact; and I demand of you, Lady Mary, if, in consequence of former overtures, I should establish a legal authority over you, and become your chief magistrate, would you submit to the same control to which Lady Priory submits? Lady M. Any control, rather than have no chief Lord P. Can you be at a loss to say you love magistrate at all. me? Sir G. (To Miss D.) And what do you say to this? Miss D. Simply one sentence:-a maid of the present day shall become a wife like those of former times. [Exeunt. A COMEDY, IN FIVE ACTS.-BY RICHARD CUMBERLAND. ACT I. SCENE I.-A Hall in Lord Abberville's house. Flourish of French horns. Enter COLIN MACLEOD. Colin. Hoot! fellows, haud your honds: pack up your d-d clarinets, and gang your gait for a pair of lubberly minstrels as you are. An you could hondle the bagpipe instead, I would na' say you nay: ah! 'tis an auncient instrument of great melody, and has whastled many a braw lad to his grave; but your holyday horns, there are fit only to play to a drunken city barge, on a swan-hopping party up the Thames. [Enter LA JEUNESSE.] La Jeu. Fidon, Monsieur Colin, for why you have send away the horns? It is very much the ton in this country for the fine gentlemens to have the horns: upon my vord, my lord this day give grand entertainment to very grand company; tous les macaroni below stairs, et toute la coterie above. Hark! who vait dere? My lord ring his bell. Voilà, Monsieur Colin, dere is all the company going to the tea-room. Colin. (Looking out.) Now the de'il barst the weams of you altogether, say I, for a pack of locusts; a cow in a clover-field has more moderation than the best among you; had my Lord Abberville the wealth of Glasgow, you'd swallow it all down before you gee'd over. La Jeu. Ah, barbare! Here come my lord. [Exit. Enter LORD ABBERVILLE. Lord A. Colin, see that covers are laid for fourand-twenty, and supper served, at twelve, in the great eating-parlour. Colin. Ecod! my lord, had you kenn'd the mess of cakes and sweeties that was honded up amongst 'em just now, you would na' think there could be muckle need of supper this night. Lord A. What, fellow, would you have me starve my guests? [you. Colin. Troth, an you don't, they'll go nigh to starve Lord A. Let me hear no more of this, Colin Macleod; I took you for my servant, not for my adviser. NAPTHALI LA JEUNESSE VISITORS SERVANTS MRS. BRIDGEMORE LUCINDA BRIDGEMORE MISS AUBREY MRS. MACINTOSH Colin. Right, my lord, you did; but if by advising I can serve you, where's the breach of duty? [Exit. Lord A. What a highland savage it is! My father, indeed, made use of him to pay the servants' wages, and post the tradesmen's accounts; as I never do either, I wish somebody else had him that does. Enter MORTIMER. Mort. "Is this a dinner, this a genial room? This is a temple and a hetacomb." Lord A. What, quoting, Mortimer, and satire too? I thought you need not go abroad for that. Mort. True; therefore, I'm returning home. Good night to you. Lord A. What, on the wing so soon! With so much company, can my philosopher want food to feast his spleen upon? Mort. Food! I revolt against the name; no Bramin could abominate your fleshly meal more than I do; why, Hirtius and Apicius would have blushed for it: Mark Antony, who roasted eight whole boars for supper, never massacred more at a meal than you have done. Lord A. A truce, good cynic: pr'ythee, now, get thee up stairs, and take my place; the ladies will be glad of you at cards. Mort. Me at cards! Me at a quadrille-table! Pent in with fuzzing dowagers, gossiping old maids, and yellow admirals: 'sdeath! my Lord Abberville, you must excuse me. [art a traitor to society., Lord A. Out on thee, unconformable being! thou Mort. Do you call that society? Lord A. Yes; but not my society; none such as you describe will be found here; my circle, Mr. Mortimer, is formed by people of the first fashion and spirit in this country. Mort. Fashion and spirit! Yes; their country's likely to suffer by their fashion more than 'twill ever profit by their spirit. Lord A. Come, come; your temper is too sour. Mort. And your's too sweet: a mawkish lump of mauna; sugar in the mouth, but physic to the bowels. Lord A.Mr. Mortimer, you was my father's executor; I did not know your office extended further. Mort. No: when I gave a clear estate into your hands, I cleared myself of an unwelcome office: I was, indeed, your father's executor; the gentlemen of fashion and spirit will be your lordship's. Lord A. Pooh! You've been black-balled at some paltry port-drinking club; and set up for a man of wit and ridicule. Mort. Not I, believe me: your companions are too dull to laugh at, and too vicious to expose. There stands a sample of your choice. Lord A. Doctor Druid? Where's the harm in him? Mort. Where is the merit? What one quality does that old piece of pedantry possess to fit him for the liberal office of travelling-preceptor to a man of rank? You know, my lord, I recommended you a friend, as fit to form your manners as your morals; but he was a restraint; and, in his stead, you took that Welshman, that buffoon, that antiquarian, forsooth, who looks as if you had raked him out of the cinders of Mount Vesuvius. Lord A. And so I did: but, pr'ythee, Mortimer, don't run away; I long to have you meet. Mort. You must excuse me. Lord A. Nay, I must have you better friends. Come hither, Doctor; harkye Mort. Another time: at present, I am in no humour to stay the discussion of a cockle-shell, or the dissection of a butterfly's-wing. [Exit. Enter DOCTOR DRUID. Dr. D. Putterflies! Putterflies in your teeth, Mr. Mortimer. What is the surlypoots prabbling about? Cot give her coot luck! will the man never leave off his flings, and his fleers, and his fegaries? packpiting his petters! Coot, my lord, let me call him pack, and have a little tisputes and tisputations with him, d'ye see? Lord A. Hang him, tedious rogue! let him go. Dr. D. Tedious! ay, in coot truth is he, as tedious as a Lapland winter, and as melancholy, too; his crotchets and his humours damp all mirth and merriment, as a wet planket does a fire: he is the very night-mare of society. Lord A. Nay, he talks well sometimes. Dr. D. Ay, 'tis pig sound and little wit; like a loud pell to a pad dinner. Lord A. Patience, good Doctor! Another time you shall have your revenge; at present, you must lay down your wrath, and take up your attention. Dr. D. I've done, my lord, I've done. Laugh at my putterflies, indeed! If he were as pig and as pold as King Gryffyn, Doctor Druid would make free to whisper an oord or two in his ear. [peace! Lord A. Peace, choleric king of the mountains, Dr. D. I've done, my lord; I say, I've done. Lord A. If you have done, let me begin. You must know, then, I expect my city madam from Fish-street-hill. came up with an address from the whole company Dr. D. Out on it! you've some tevilish comans Lord A. You've guest it: such a divine, delicious, little devil lurks in my heart; Glendower himself could not exorcise her: I am possessed; and from the hour I saw her by surprise, I bave been plotting methods how to meet her: a lucky opening offers; the mine is laid, and Bridgemore's visit is the signal for springing it. Dr. D. Pridgemore's! How so? Lord A. Why, 'tis with him she lives: what else could make it difficult, and what but difficulty could make me pursue it? They, prudently enough, would have concealed her from me; for who can think of any other, when Miss Aubrey is in sight! But, hark! they're come; I must escape. Now, lere and fortune stand my friends! [Brit. Dr. D. Pless us, what hastes and hurries be is Enter BRIDGEMORE, MRS. BRIDGEMORE, and Bridge. Doctor, I kiss your hands; I kiss your hands, good Doctor. How these nobles Live! Zooks! what a swinging chamber! Mrs. B. Why, Mr. Bridgemere, sure, you think yourself in Leathersellers'-hall. Luc. Pray, recollect yourself, papa; indeed this is not Fish-street-hill. Bridge. I wish it were; I'd soon unhouse this trumpery; I'd soon furnish it with better goods: why, this profusion, child, will turn your brain. Mrs. B. La! how you stand and stare at things! stopping in the hall to count the servants; gaping at the lustre there, as if you'd swallow it. I sp pose our daughter, when she's a woman of quality will behave as other women of quality do. Lucinda this is Doctor Druid, Lord Abberville's travell tutor; a gentleman of very ancient family in North Wales. [of it Luc. So it should seem, if he's the representati Dr. D. Without flattery, Mrs. Bridgemore, miss has very much the behaviours of an ooman of quality already. [Abberville will think us late. Mrs. B. Come, sir, we'll join the company; Land Dr. D. Yes, truly, he's impatient for our comig but you shall find him not at home. Mrs. B. How! Not at home? Luc. A mighty proof of his impatience, truly! Dr. D. Ay, ay; the rich pig-pellied fellow's Dr. D. Why, 'twas some plaguy business took daughter, young madam Pridgemore, my Lady Ap-him out; but we'll despatch it out of hand, and wait perville, that is to be; pless her, and save her, and make her a coot wife, say I. upon you quickly. Bridge. Well, business, business must be done. Mrs. B. I thought my lord had been a man of fashion, not of business. Lord A. Pr'ythee, good Doctor, don't put a man in mind of his misfortunes. I tell you, she is coming here by appointment, with old Bridgemore and her Luc. And so he is; a man of the first fashion: mother; 'tis an execrable group; and, as I mean to you cannot have a fresher sample: the worst galt make all things as easy to me as I can, I am going in nature is your macaroni; with the airs of a coout to avoid being troubled with their impertinence.quette you meet the manners of a clown: fear keeps Dr. D. Going out, my lord, with your house full of company? Lord A. Oh! that's no objection; none in the least; fashion reconciles all those scruples: to consult your own ease in all things is the very first article in the recipe for good breeding: when every man looks after himself, no one can complain of neglect; but, as these maxims may not be orthodox on the eastern side of Temple-bar, you must stand gentleman-usher in this spot; put your best face upon the matter, and marshal my citizens into the assembly-room, with as much ceremony as if they him in some awe before the men, but not one spark of passion bas he at heart, to remind him of the ladies. Mrs. B. Well, we must make our courtesy above stairs. Our card was from Lady Caroline; I pose she is not from home, as well as her brother. Dr. D. Who waits there? shew the ladies up |