Not that I want to remove 'em, but merely out of cu

riosity What objections?

Sir Geo. None. I neither know her, have seen her, enquired after her, or ever intend it.

R. Weal. What, perhaps, I am the stumbling

block?

Sir Geo. You have hit it.

R. Weal. Ay, now we come to the point. Well, and pray

Sir Geo. Why, it is not so much a dislike to your person, though that is exceptionable enough, but your profession, dear nuncle, is an insuperable obstacle.

R. Weal. Good lack!-And what harm has that

done, pray?

Sir Geo. Done!.

-So stained, polluted, and tainted the whole mass of your blood, thrown such a blot on your 'scutcheon, as ten regular successions can hardly efface.

R. Weal. The deuce !

Sir Geo. And could you now, consistently with your duty as a faithful guardian, recommend my union with the daughter of a trader?

R. Weal. Why, indeed, I ask pardon; I am afraid I did not weigh the matter as maturely as I ought. Sir Geo. Oh, a horrid, barbarous scheme 1

R. Weal. But then I thought her having the honour to partake of the same flesh and blood with yourself, might prove in some measure, a kind of fullers

earth, to scour out the dirty spots contracted by com

merce.

Sir Geo. Impossible!

R. Weal. Besides, here it has been the practice even

of peers.

Sir Geo. Don't mention the unnatural intercourse! Thank Heaven, Mr. Richard Wealthy, my education has been in another country, where I have been too well instructed in the value of nobility, to think of intermixing it with the offspring of a Bourgois. Why, what apology could I make to my children, for giving them such a mother?

R. Weal. I did not think of that. Then I must despair, I am afraid.

Sir Geo. I can afford but little hopes.-Though, upon recollection-Is the Grisette pretty!

so.

R. Weal. A parent may be partial. She is thought

-

Sir Geo. Ah la jolie petite Bourgoise !— -Poor girl, I sincerely pity her. And I suppose, to procure her emersion from the mercantile mud, no consideration would be spared.

R. Weal. Why, to be sure, for such an honour, one would strain a point.

Sir Geo. Why then, not totally to destroy your hopes, I do recollect an edict in favour of Britanny; that when a man of distinction engages in commerce his nobility is suffered to sleep.

R. Weal. Indeed!

Sir Geo. And upon his quitting the contagious connexion, he is permitted to resume his rank.

R. Weal. That's fortunate.

Sir Geo. So, nuncle Richard, if you will sell out of the stocks, shut up your counting house, and quit St. Mary Ax for Grosvenor-Square

R. Weal. What then?

Sir Geo. Why, when your rank has had time to rouse itself, for I think your nobility, nuncle, has had a pretty long nap, if the girl's person is pleasing, and the purchase-money is adequate to the honour, I may in time be prevailed upon to restore her to the right of her family.

R. Weal. Amazing condescension!

Sir Geo. Good-nature is my foible. But, upon my soul, I would not have gone so far for any body else.

R. Weal. I can contain no longer. Hear me, spendthrift, prodigal, do you know, that in ten days your whole revenue won't purchase you a feather to adorn your empty head ?

Sir Geo. Heyday, what's the matter now?

R. Weal. And that you derive every acre of your boasted patrimony from your great uncle, a soapboiler !

Sir Geo. Infamous aspersion !

R. Weal. It was his bags, the fruits of his honest industry, that preserved your lazy, beggarly nobility. His wealth repaired your tottering hall, from the ruins of which, even the rats had run.

Sir Geo. Better our name had perished! Insupportable! soap-boiling, uncle!

R. Weal. Traduce a trader in a country of commerce! It is treason against the community; and, for your punishment, I would have you restored to the sordid condition from whence we drew you, and like your predecessors, the Picts, stript, painted, and ted upon hips, haws, and blackberries.

Sir Geo. A truce, dear haberdasher.

R. Weal. One pleasure I have, that to this gaol you are upon the gallop; but have a care, the sword hangs but by a thread. When next we meet, know me for the master of your fate.

[Exit. Sir Geo. Insolent mechanic! But that his Bourgois blood would have soil'd my sword

Enter Sir WILLIAM, and LOADER.

Sir Will. What is de matter?

Sir Geo. A fellow, here, upon the credit of a little affinity, has dared to upbraid me with being sprung from a soap-boiler.

Sir Will. Vat, you from the boiler of soap!

Sir Geo Me.

Sir Will. Aha, begar, dat is anoder ting.

And

harka you, mister monsieur, ha-how dare a you

have d affrontary

Sir Geo. How!

Sir Will. De impertinence to sit down, play wid

me?

Sir Geo. What is this?

Sir Will. A beggarly Bourgois vis-a-vis, a baron of twenty descents.

Load. But baron

Sir Will. Bygar, I am almost ashamed to win of such a low, dirty- -Give me my monies, and let me never see your face.

Load. Why, but baron, you mistake this thing, I know the old buck this fellow prates about.

Sir Will. May be.

Load. Pigeon me, as true a gentleman as the grand signior. He was, indeed, a good-natured, obliging, friendly fellow; and being a great judge of soap, tar, and train-oil, he used to have it home to his house, and sell it to his acquaintance for ready money, to serve them.

Sir Will. Was dat all?

Load. Upon my honour.

Sir Will. Oh, dat, dat is anoder ting. Bygar I was afraid he was negotiant.

Load. Nothing like it.

Enter DICK.

Dick. A gentleman to enquire for Mr. Loader. Load. I come-A pretty son of a bitch, this baron! pimps for the man, picks his pocket, and then wants to kick him out of company, because his uncle was an oilman.

[Exit.

Sir Will. I beg pardon, chevalier, I was mistake. Sir Geo. Oh, don't mention it! had the slam been fact, your behaviour was natural enough.