Young Bonc. As you have had no experience, sister, you must have heard this from others; and, believe me, child, they told thee those frightful stories, and made bugbears of men merely to deter thee from marrying, that's all: they only frighten thee, as they do children, with apparitions.

Miss Bonc. It is preposterous though to frighten us, in order to make us desire to lie alone.

Young Bonc. Well, you don't know but I am an exception to your first rule, if it be general. (Miss Boncour sighs.) Why that sigh?

Miss Bonc. I wish there may be another.

Young Bonc. I am convinc'd you will find another in my friend Valence.

Miss Bonc. It is my interest to hope so, since you have contriv'd among you to marry me to him.

Young Bonc. All compliance! you have no affection for him, then?

Miss Bonc. Shall I tell you the truth, brother?

Young Bonc. I would not put you to too violent pain, sister; but if, without great danger of your life, it might

come out

Miss Bonc. Why, then I do love him, and shall love him to all eternity.

Enter SERVANT.

Serv. Madam, Mr. Valence to wait on you.

Miss Bonc. Shew him into the parlour, I'll come to him. (Exit Servant.) Brother, you will keep my secret; at least, don't tell him till a day or two after I am married, and perhaps I may be before-hand with you. [Exit Miss Boncour.

Young Bonc. Get you gone for a good-natur'd girl: he is a rascal who would not make you happy, and be so himself with you.

VOL. IV.

G

Re-enter SERVANT with a letter.

Serv. Mr. Valence's man, Sir, delivered me this.

my

[Exit Servant. Young Bonc. Ha! I know the dear hand.-[Reads.] 'Sir, I am sorry to inform you, that I have this moment 'orders from father to' -Ha! confusion! to -'to 'see you no more: you will best know on this occasion how to act, for the sake of your unhappy Sophia 'Valence!' my blood runs cold; I'll fly to her and know the reason of this change of my fortune-poor girl, she wants a comforter as much as myself. [Exit.

SCENE III.

SCENE, another Apartment in BONCOUR's House.

Enter YOUNG VALENCE and MISS BONCOUR.

Young Val. How sudden are the changes in this world, how vain our pursuits! an hour ago I was the happiest of mankind, and am now the most miserable.

Miss Bonc. This is nothing but some scruple started between the old gentlemen, which will be settled again : this be assur'd of, while your happiness is in my power, you shall never be miserable.

Young Val. Yet consider, Madam, consider my condition; I, who, if I was possest of all my father's fortune, should be an unworthy offering to your beauty: with what assurance can I throw a disinherited son at your feet?

Miss Bonc. Fathers often threaten what they never perform; but let your's be ever so obstinate, I know my father's good nature to be such, that he will settle

a fortune on us that will enable us to live at our ease, if not in splendour.

Young Val. O! my dearest love, I fear there are no hopes from that quarter; for the reason of my father's breaking off the match was an account he just receiv'd from undoubted authority, that your father is irretrievably ruined, and is not now worth a shilling in the world.

Miss Bonc. Good heavens! what do I hear?

Young Val. 'Tis but too true; and 'tis with the utmost reluctance I come the fatal messenger of such unwelcome tidings! oh, that I were now but master of the fortune I am entitled to, that I might prove the sincerity of my passion; that I might shew my sole object was the possession of your lovely self, without any sordid views of fortune.

Miss Bonc. Then all the flattering prospect of happiness I had before me is vanish'd in an instant.

Young Val. Why so, my angel? if the change of fortune makes no change in our love, we may still be happy.

Miss Bonc. Happy! what, by indulging a hopeless passion?

Young Val. Why hopeless? it is in our power instantly to realize its joys-curse on all those who conspir'd to fetter love with any chains to make it subservient to the gain of lawyers and priests; cannot we trust to the ties of nature, and our own affections? Is not this dear hand security enough for your heart, without a more formal union? O, melting softness. Ha! by my hopes she dissolves-I'll carry her now [Aside.] my paradise, this hour, this minute, this instantMiss Bonc. What do you mean?

Young Val. Need I tell you my meaning? or can words do it? O no, my soul, my angel!

Miss Bonc. Sure I am in a dream! pray who are you, Sir?

Young Val. You are in a dream, indeed; do not you know your Valence?

Miss Bonc. My Valence! no, he never would use me thus.

Young Val. Does the excess of my passion offend you, which, inflamed by disappointment, will admit of no delay? I here plight my solemn vow, and call heaven to witness that you are my wife, and at my father's death

Miss Bonc. Be gone, villain, and never see me more.

[Exit.

Young Val. This I might expect on the first proposal; but her distress and my perseverance must in time prevail.

[Exit.

SCENE IV.

SCENE, another Apartment in BONCOUR's House.

Enter BONCOUR and SIR GEORGE.

Sir Geo. Your ruin will go round the town before night; by six all the good women will order their horses, to blame your conduct, and pity your family in every assembly and private company they meet with.

Bonc. So, you think I shall have no more difficulty to prevent the match.

Sir Geo. I do, indeed, and hope you will reap more advantage than that from it.

Bonc. What, pray?

Sir Geo. Be cur'd of your distemper-your good nature. Have you not oblig'd almost every one of your acquaintance? Have you not lent money without

security? Have you not always been inclined to speak well of mankind, and blam'd nothing but the most notorious villainy? Have not your doors been open as those of an hospital to the sustenance of the poor? nay, have you not taken them from a prison, and brought them to your table? Are there not many rich men who owe the original of their wealth to your bounty; and yet, if after all that you have done, should you not be able to borrow five pounds in the town, would it not cure you?

Bonc. Why should I be sorry that I have been good, because others are evil? if I have acted right I have done well, though alone; if wrong, the sanction of all mankind would not justify my conduct.

Sir Geo. I tell you, Sir, you have not acted right: you have acted very wrong in doing kindness to a parcel of rogues and rascals, who with the tenth part of your understanding have call'd you fool for serving them; have privately laugh'd at you in your prosperity, and will publicly despise you in your adversity-a good-natur'd man! O! 'tis a precious character.

Bonc. Ha, ha, ha! brother, you yourself are a goodnatur'd man, and don't know it.

Sir Geo. Why, truly, I have been guilty of some infirmities of that kind, for which I am heartily sorry; I have told a man he deserv'd to be hang'd, when he ought to have been broke on the wheel; and sometimes I pay my tradesmen's bills in half a year without deduction, when the rascals would gain three per cent. if I paid them in a twelvemonth: I have refus'd going to law with a man for a debt, only because I knew he could not pay the charges: I have shaken a rogue by the hand, only because it was the fashion; and have expressed abundance of sorrow for the misfortunes of my acquaintance when they have not given me the least