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Agnes. Youth, hilarity, and the custom of the country at this season. We this morning summoned these our companions, and set out upon this excursion, in the disguises that you have seen. We met first these gallant tars, who conducted us to these lilent gentlemen their officers.

Lieutenant. If we have been for a few minutes filent, it has been from surprise and pleasure. Frederic. And from a desire to know if


would recollect us.

Caroline. Could you doubt that? Did we not display to you our skill in palmistry?

Frederic. Oh, display it once more, and take our hands!

Agnes. Two words to that bargain: we have learned to deal hard since we have been Gypsies.

Sir Edward. Why, ladies and gentlemen, you seem to be very well acquainted.

Juftice. Yes. Here's a kind of combination, that I think would come under the statute.

Dr. Dose. I should prescribe them all iome cooling medicines.

Lieutenant. What, my lovely Agnes, will you refuse the hand of a lover, to whom this unexpected meeting is the height of bliss ?

Agnes. Why, my dear Lieutenant, have I not already taken it this day?

Frederic. Caroline, my lovely Caroline, let me beg of you

Caroline. Oh dear! I have nothing for you: we are crocodiles of the Nile, you know; besides, if you beg, my uncle will commit you.

Agnes. Or if we pradife palmistry, he will send us all to the house of correction.

Capstan. Lieutenant and Mr. Frederic, we had our gang ready to rescue these ladies if fo be as how-but



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as we suppose that you mean to press them yourselves, we know better than to turn against our officers.

Lieutenant. That would be Hat mutiny, Jack.
Taffrel. So it would, your honour.

Lieutenant and Frederic, holding out their hands. Then thus let us seize our prizes.

Agnes. Avast! my good friends; we are not to be taken so easily; there are two words to that bargain, as I said before.

Sir Edward. Well, if two brave officers and two lovely women are within two words of making a bargain of this sort, it must conclude in this manner.

[Joining their hands. Justice. Yes, this seems a proper conclusion indeed. As my niece Caroline whispers me, gentlemen, that you were their Bath acquaintance of whom we have heard so much, I rejoice in this rencounter: I know your brave and honourable fathers, so does Sir Ed. ward. Your characters are established, and we are not unacquainted with their merit. With respect to my nieces I shall say but little, only that the share you, had in the late glorious victory rendered these Gypsies loquacious in your praise; and if you had heard what I have

[Agnes and CAROLINE run to each side of the Justice. Agnes. Hold, uncle! I shall die with confusion.

Caroline. Spare us, dear uncle, or I shall sink into the earth with shame.

Justice. I am glad of it, you Gypsies; then you won't have the assurance to go a-mumming again?

Lieutenant. Honoured with the approbation of these ladies, and sharers in the applause of our country, the happiness of Frederic and myself is complete. We shall, as foon as our leave of absence has expired, return with double alacrity to our duty, and endeavour, by the most arduous exertions in the service of our

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king and country, to deserve these fair hands which we are thus allowed to claimn.

Caroline. One word with you, Frederic: I am commissioned by Cleopatra and Berenice, the Gypsies, to return these two pieces of gold: I cannot ask these brave and generous fellows to accept them, even with a large addition,

Frederic. No; if you do, you will affront them, I can

assure you.

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Capstan. Not at all, your honour. The gold of such enchantresses must prove lucky. I'll take thefe pieces on board with me; and when I tell our crew of their virtues, I have no doubt but that they will increase and muliply like—but mum-so that they will, in time, become an offering worthy the acceptance of the PATRIOTIC FUND.

Agnes. May they increase like fairy gold!

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Agnes. Bevevolence, our nation's boast,

Oh lend thy heavenly aid !
Secur'd by thee, our hoftile eoaft

What nation dare invade ?
Caroline. Securd by thee, our warlike bands

Defy the battle's rage;
While widows, orphans, bless the hands

Whofe zifts their griefs asuage.
Jack Cappian. Then in praise of Great Britain let bumpers

now how,
Whole fons love her friends, and ne'er turn

from her foe.
Tom Tafrel. May her heroes be ready to die in her cause,

And her patriots support her religion and laws!
Till treachery fall, and cruelty cease,

And discord subfide into permanent peace.



Then in praise of Great Britain let bumpers now flow,
Whose fons love her friends, and ne'er turn from her foë.

ITIZEN Plum had a quarrelsome wife;

Music was ever the cause of their strife:
Madam, one day, was abusing her dear,
The topic, as usual, his want of an ear.
“ Hold your tongue," replies Plum, " for Heaven's fake do,
I pry thee consider that I have got two."

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THEN I gaily set out in the conjugal state,

was ;
But I now at iny lot can no longer rejoice,
As she's never in tune, though Ne 's always in voice.
With her found inharmonious, from morning to night,
She distracts niy poor ears, which in concord delight,
And compels me, amaz’d, in a petulant strain,
Oft to with I could shake off my conjugal chain.
No mar, fure, e'er had, in his passage through life,
Such strong bars to his bliss in a diffonant wife,
Who appears, when her tones by her anger are rais’d,
Up to alt, like a woman deplorably craz’d.

Though from purs in her conduét I own flie is free,
Yet the brags of her virtue in too loud a key;
For, most certainly, wives, like Diana, though chaste, 1
Can play off their good parts in very bad taste.
First allur'd by a smile, then bewitch'd by a song,

The quick movement I made to be married was wrong;
But oh! where's the man who at all times is wist,
Who is never seduc'd by his ears or his eyes ?


When she opens her lips, like the clack of a mill,
Her brisk tongue is in motion-it never lies still;
A firm foe to my peace, the indeed is a pelt,
As the rattles away when I wish her at reft.
In a day, as she often appears in her airs,
Very oft she wants time for her household affairs;
With ynnumber'd divisions she turns a dispute--
Oh how oft do I wish that her tongue had a mute!
Wher passion provok'd puts her face in a maze,
No tweet graces she then in her person displays;
Her whole figure in attitudes striking appears;
He who looks at her, starts, and he dreads her who hears. ,
Hurried on by an impulse to woe and to need,
Of no niatters to come did I trouble my head
Let each marriage of love, then, with caution be made,
As I dearly, alas! for my crotchet have paid.






LONG this mead hould fervid. sunbeams heat thee,

As walking on to Twick’nbam or to Sheen,
Forsake the path, and on this rude block seat thee-

Cool is the shade, enjoy the rural scene,
And think mor couch nor throne so fafè or so serene.
From this calm spot fly far all things unholy,

Light.Fays and guardian Sylphs affemble here;
But most is welcome pensive Melancholy,

With wounded mind, though soften'd not austere,
To make upon the world remarks not too fevere.
For nuin'rous as the boughs and leaves above thee,

Poor mortal, are the faults to which thou 'rt prone!
Take confort-though a bad world cease to love thee,

In candour let its num'rvus faults alonen Contemplate here the means to rectify thine own.


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