Stock, Don't trouble us now, wife; you have been for and against him twenty times in fourand-twenty hours.

Jen. [To MARTIN aad SLIP.] Your humble servant, gentlemen! What, dumb and ashamed too!--the next scheme you go about, take care that there is not such a girl as I within twenty miles of you.

Mur. I wish we were twenty miles from you, with all my soul !

Slip. As you don't like our company, madam, we'll retire. [Going away.]

Bel. Hold them fast, constables: They must give some account of themselves at the Old Bailey, and then perhaps they may retire to our plantations.

Sir Har. But what have they done? or what will you do? or what am I to do? I'm all in the dark-pitch dark

Stock. Is your son married, Sir Harry? Sir Har. Yes, a fortnight ago; and this fellow you kicked down stairs, was sent with my

excuses.

Stock. I kicked him down stairs! You villain you

Bel. Don't disturb yourself with what is past,

but rejoice at your deliverance. If you and Sir Harry will permit me to attend you within, I will acquaint you with the whole business.

Sir Har. I see the whole business now, sir. We have been their fools.

Stock. And they are our knaves, and shall suffer as such. Thanks to Mr. Belford bere-my good angel, that has saved my 10,000l. !

Sir Har. He has saved your family, Mr. Stockwell.

Bel. Could you but think, sir, my good services to your family might entitle me to be one of it!

Miss Nan. You'd make your daughter happy, by giving her to your best friend.

Mrs. Stock. My dear; for once hear me and reason, and make them both happy.

Stock. You shall be happy, Belford. Take my daughter's hand. You have her heart. You have deserved her fortune, and shall have that, too. Come, let us go in and examine these culprits.

Sir Har. Right, Mr. Stockwell. 'Tis a good thing to punish villainy; but 'tis a better to make virtue happy, and so let us about it. [Exeunt omnes.

Mer. Justice! Make that out, and my conscience will be easy.

Mer. O she'll run away with you most certainly

Wil. I must not lose time then. [Looking at his watch.] I must go and take my stand, that the deer may not escape me.

Mer. Ave, justice with a vengeance! But why must Sir Toby be punished for the sins of his uncle?

Wil. I'll ease your conscience there, too. My mother, at my father's death, took me, a boy, to Sir Toby and my lady, to solicit their kindness for me-He gave me half-a-crown to buy gingerbread; and her ladyship, who was combing a fat lap-dog, muttered, There was no end of maintaining poor relations.'

Mer. I have not a qualm left-But did you really pass for a strolling player last summer, to have a pretence of being near her father's house?

Wil. Yes, I did; and, as Polonius says, was accounted a good actor.

Mer. What could put that unaccountable frolic in your head?

Wil. To gain the favour of Sir Toby's family, as a strolling player, which I could not as a poor relation. They are fond of acting to madness, and my plan succeeded; I was so altered they did not know me; they liked me much, came to a benefit which I pretended to have, invited me to their house, and Miss met me privately, after I had played Ranger and Lothario.

Mer. Aye, aye, when a young lady's head is crammed with combustible scraps of plays, she is always ready primed, and will go off (if. you will allow me a pun) the very first oppor tunity.

Wil. I discovered myself to the young lady, and her generosity was so great, that she resolved to marry me to make me amends; there are refined feelings for you!

Mer. Aye, double refined !--she is more romantic than you, Will-But did not you run a great risque of losing her, when she knew you was only a gentleman, and not a player?

Wil. Read that letter, and tell me if my castles are built in the air? [Gives a letter.

Wil. I was very near being disappointed there; for unluckily the acting manager, who scarce reached to my third button, cocked bis head up in my face, and said I was much too tall for a hero-however, I got the liberty of the scenes, by desiring to rehearse Hamlet next week-But I hope to cross the Tweed with the fair Ophelia before that time, and finish my stage adventures by appearing the first time in the character of a good husband.

Mer. Success attend you!

Wil. This is the day,

Makes me, or mars. for ever and for aye!'If I succeed, I shall be restored to my father's estate, drink claret, and live like a gentleman with the wife of my heart; and, egad, for aught I know, stand for the county.

Mer. If not, you must be confined to your little one hundred and twenty pounds a year farm, make your own cheese, marry the curate's daughter, have a dozen children, and brew the best October in the parish.

Wil. Which ever way fortune will dispose of me, I shall be always happy to see my friends, and never shall forget my obligations to thee, my dear Jack. [Shakes him by the hand. Mer. Well, well; let us away-we have too much business to mind compliments. [Exeunt severally. SCENE II.-The Play-house. Two Women sweeping the Stage.

1st Wom. Come, Betty; dust away, dust away, girl; the managers will be here presently; there's no lying in bed for them now, we are up early and late; all hurry and bustle from morning to night; I wonder what the deuce they have got into their heads?

2d Wom. Why, to get money, Mrs. Besom, to be sure; the folks say about us, that the other house will make them stir their stumps, and they'll make us stir ours: If they are in motion, we must not stand still, Mrs. Besom.

1st Wom. Ay, ay, girl, they have met with their match, and we shall all suffer for it; for my part, I can't go through the work, if they are always in this plaguy hurry; I have not drank comfortable dish of tea, since the house opened.

2d Wom. One had better die than be scolded and hurried about as we are by the housekeeper; he takes us all for a parcel of negers, I believe: pray, give us a pinch of your snuff,

Mrs. Besom.

[They lean upon their brooms, and take snufj,

1st Wom. Between you and I Betty, and our two brooms, the house-keeper is grown a little purse-proud; he thinks himself a great actor forsooth, since he played the Scotch fellow, and the fat cook in Queen Mab.

2d Wom. The quality spoils him too: why, woman, he talks to them for all the world as if he was a lord!

1st Wom. I shall certainly resign, as the great folks call it in the newspaper, if they won't promise to give me the first dresser's place that falls, and make our little Tommy a page; what, woman! though we are well paid for our work, we ought to make sure of something when our brooms are taken from us-'tis the fashion, Betty.

2d Wom. Right, right, Mrs, Besom; service is no inheritance, and to be always doing dirty work, and to have no prospect to rest, and clean ourselves, is the curse only of us poor folks.

1st Wom. You and I will drink a dish of tea together in comfort this afternoon, and talk over these and other matters-but mum-here's the prompter. [They sing, and sweep again.

Saun. Here! here!-Zooks, what a bawling you make! do keep your breath for your prompting, Master Hopkins, and send it not after me at this rate-I'm not deaf!

Hop. But your men are, and asleep too, I believe; I can't get a soul of them near me; 'tis ten o'clock, [Looking at his watch.] and not a scene prepared for the rehearsal; 'tis I shall be blamed, and not you.

Saun. Blamed for what! Tis but a rehearsal, and of one act only-would you have us to finish our work, before the poet has done his? Don't you know, that carpenters are always the last in the house? and yet you want us to get out of it, before the author has covered in!'

Hop. You may be as witty as you please; but the managers will do as they please, and they have promised the author to rehearse the first act of his Burletta of Orpheus this morning,

as he pleases, with all the proper scenes dresses, machinery, and music; so, what signifies all our prating?

Saun. Very little, as you say-but damn all these new vagaries, that put us all upon our heads topsy versy!-my men have sat up all night, and I have finished every thing but the Dancing Cows.

Hop. Bless my heart, man, the author depends most upon his cows!

Saun. His cows! how came they to be his? they are my cows ;-these poets are pretty fellows, faith! they say, I'll have a flying devil, or a dancing bear, or any such conundrum; why, 'tis easily said, but who is to make them fly, and dance? ha, Master Prompter? Why, poor Pill Garlic-the audience applauds, the author is conceited; but the capenter is never thought of. Hop. These are bold truths, Mr. Saunders.

Saun. Why, then, out with them, I say-great men spin the brains of the little ones, and take the credit of them. Do you know how I was served in our dramatic romance of Cymon?

Hop. You did your business well there, particularly in the last scene.

Saun. And what was the consequence? One fine gentleman in the boxes said, my master brought it from Italy-No, damn it, (says another, taking snuff) I saw the very same thing at Paris;' when you all know here, behind the scenes, that the whole design came from this head; and the execution from these hands-but nothing can be done by an Englishman now a days; and so your servant, Mr. Hopkins.

the

[Going.

ordered me to discharge the man at the lightnHop. Hark'ye, Saunders? the managers have ing; he was so drunk the last time he flashed, that he has singed all the clouds on that side stage. [Pointing to the clouds. Saun. Yes, yes, I see it; and, harkye? he has burnt a hole in the new cascade, and set fire to the shower of rain-but mum▬▬▬ Hop. The deuce! he must be discharged directly. [Exit SAUNDERS. Pat. [Without.] Where's the prompter? Hop. Here I am, sir.

Enter PATENT.

Pat. When do the performers not murmur, Mr. Hopkins? Has any morning passed in your time without some grievance or another? Hop. I have half a dozen now in my pocket for you. [Feeling in his pocket for papers. Pat. O, pray, let's have them! my old breakfast-[Prompter gives them.]—And the old story -Actresses quarrelling about parts; there's not one of them but thinks herself young enough for any part; and not a young one but thinks herself capable of any part! But their betters quarrel about what they are not fit for; so our ladies have, at least, great precedents for their folly.

Hop. The young fellow from Edinburgh won't accept of the second lord; he desires to have the first.

Pat. I don't doubt it--Well, well, if the author can make him speak English, I have no objection.

Hop. Mr. Rantly is indisposed, and can't play

to-morrow.

Pat. Well, well, let his lungs rest a little; they want it, I'm sure. What a campaign shall we make of it! all our subalterns will be general officers; and our generals will only fight when they please. ́

Glib. [Without.] O he's upon the stage, is he? I'll go to him

Pat. Here comes the author; do you prepare the people for the rehearsal; desire them to be as careful, as if they were to perform before an audience.

Hop. I will, sir-Pray let us know when we must begin. [Erit.

Enter GLIB.

Glib. Dear Mr. Patent, am not I too late? Do make me happy at once; I have been upon the rack this half hour-But the ladies, Mr. Patent, the ladies

Pat. But where are the ladies, sir?

Glib. They'll be here in the drinking of a cup of tea; I left them all at breakfast; Lady Fuz can't stir from home without some refreshment. Sir Macaroni Virtu was not come, when I left them; he generally sits up all night, and if he gets up before two o'clock, he only walks in his sleep all the rest of the day-He is perhaps the most accomplished connoisseur in the three kingdoms; yet he is never properly awake till other people go to bed! however, if he should come, our little performance, I believe, will rouse him, ha, ha, ha! you understand me! A pinch of cephalic only.

Pat. I have the honour of knowing him a little-Will Sir Macaroni be here?

Glib. Why, he promised, but he's too polite to be punctual-You understand me? ha, ha, ha!-however, I am pretty sure we shall see him-I have a secret for you-not a soul must know it--he has composed two of the songs in my burletta-An admirable musician, but particular-lle has no great opinion of me, nor in

deed of any body else; a very tolerable one of himself-and so I believe he'll come-You understand me-ha, ha, ha!

Pat. I do, sir-But, pray, Mr. Glib, why did not you complete your burletta-'tis very new with us to rehearse but one act only?

Glib. By a sample, Mr. Patent, you may know the piece: if you approve, you shall never want novelty; I am a very spider at spinning my own brains, ha, ha, ha! always at it, spin, spin, spin-you understand me?

Pat. Extremely well-In your second act, I suppose, you intend to bring Orpheus into hell?

Glib. O yes, I make him play the devil there; I send him for some better purpose than to fetch his wife, ha, ha, ha! Don't mistake me-while he is upon earth, I make him a very good sort of man-He keeps a mistress, indeed, but his wife's dead, you know; and, were she alive, not much harm in that, for I make him a man of fashion-Fashion, you know, is all in all-You understand me? Upon a qualm of conscience, he quits his mistress, and sets out for hell, with a resolution to fetch his wife

Pat. Is that, too, like a man of fashion, Mr. Glib?

Glib. No, that's the moral part of him-He's a mixed character-but, as he approaches and gets into the infernal regions, his principles melt away by degrees, as it were by the heat of the climate; and finding that his wife, Eurydice, is kept by Pluto, he immediately makes up to Proserpine, and is kept by her; then they all four agree matters amicably-Change partners, as one may say, make a genteel partie quarrée, and finish the whole with a song and a chorus--and a stinger it is-The subject of the song is, the old proverb, "exchange is no robbery," and the chorus runs thus

We care not or know,
In matters of love,
What is doing above,

But this, this is the fashion below.

I believe that's true satire, Mr. Patent; strong and poignant; you understand me?

Put. O very well! 'tis Chian pepper indeed; a little will go a great way.

Glib. I make Orpheus see, in my hell, all sorts of people, of all degrees, and occupations; ay, and of both sexes--that's not very unnatural, I believe-there shall be very good company, too, I assure you; high life below stairs, as I call it, ha, ha, ha! you take me-a double edge--no boy's-play-rip and tear-the times require fortè, fortissimiè

it

Pat. Won't it be too forte? Take care, Mr. Glib, not to make it so much above proof, that the boxes can't taste it. Take care of empty boxes!

Glib. Empty boxes! I'll engage, that my Cerberus alone shall fix the boxes for a month. Pat. Cerberus !