SCENE, A Hall in Goodwill's House in the Country. W GOODWILL folus. ELL, it is to me furprising, that out of the multitudes who feel a pleasure in getting an estate, few or none should taste a fatisfaction in beftowing it. Doubtless a good man must have vaft delight in rewarding merit; nor will I believe it fo difficult to be found. I am at prefent, I thank Heaven and my own industry, worth a good L. 10,000, and an only daughter; both which I have determined to give to the most worthy of my poor relations. The transport I feel from the hope of making fome honeft man happy, makes me amends for the many weary days and fleepless nights my riches have cost me. I have fent to fummon 'em. The girl I have bred up under my own eye; fhe has feen nothing, knows nothing, and has confequently no will but mine. I have no reason to doubt her confent to whatever choice I fhall make.How happily muft my old age slide 2 away, away, between the affection of an innocent and dutiful child, and the grateful return I may expect from a fo much obliged fon-in-law! I am certainly the happiest man on earth. Here fhe comes. Enter Lucy. Lucy. Did you fend for me, papa? I have fent for you, to mention an affair to you, which you, I believe, have not yet thought of. Lucy. I hope it is not to fend me to a boardingfchool, papa. Good. I hope my indulgence to you has been fuch, that you have reason to regard me as the best of fathers. I am fure I have never deny'd you any thing but for your own good: Indeed I have confulted nothing else. It is that for which I have been toiling these many years; for which I have deny'd myself every comfort in life; and from which I have, from renting a farm of L. 500 a-year, amassed the sum of L. 10,000. Lucy. I am afraid you are angry with me, papa. Good. Be not frighten'd, my dear child, you have done nothing to offend me. But answer me one que ftion-What does my little dear think of a husband? Lucy. A hufband, papa! O la! Grod. Come, it is a question a girl in her fixteenth year may answer. Shou'd you like to have a husband, Lucy? Lucy. And am I to have a coach? Good. No, no; what has that to do with a husband? Lucy. Why, you know, papa, Sir John Wealthy's daughter was carry'd away in a coach by her husband; and I have been told by feveral of our neighbours, that I was to have a coach when I was married. Indeed I have dreamt of it a hundred times. I never dreamt of a husband in my whole life, that I did not dream of a coach. I have rid about in one all night in my sleep; and methought it was the pureft thing! Good. Lock up a girl as you will, I find you cannot keep her from evil counsellors. [Afide.]—I tell you, child, you must have no coach with a husband. Lucy. Then let me have a coach without a husband. L Good Good. What, had you rather have a coach than a hufband? Lucy. Hum-I don't know that-But if you'll get me a coach, let me alone, I'll warrant I'll get me a husband. AIR I. Thomas, I cannot. Do you, papa, but find a coach, To girls that walk, I've heard it, and I confide in't: Do you then fix My coach and fix, I warrant I get one to ride in't, to ride in't, Good. The girl is out of her wits, fure. Huffey, whọ put thefe thoughts into your head? You fhall have a good fober husband, that will teach you better things. Lucy. Ay, but I won't though, if I can help it; for Mifs Jenny Flant-it fays, a fober husband is the worst fort of husband in the world. Good. I have a mind to found the girl's inclinations. Come hither, Lucy; tell me now, of all the men you ever faw, whom shou'd you like best for a husband ? Lucy. O fy, papa, I must not tell. Good. Yes, you may your father. Lucy. No, Mifs Jenny fays I must not tell my mind to any man whatever. She never tells a word of truth to her father. Good. Mifs Jenny is a wicked girl, and you must not regard her. Come, tell me the truth, or I fhall be angry. Lucy. Why, then, of all the men I ever faw in my whole life-time, I like Mr Thomas, my Lord Bounce's footman, the best, a hundred thousand times. Good. Oh fy upon you! like a footman? Lucy. A footman! he looks a thousand times more like a gentleman than either Squire Foxchafe or Squire Tankard, and talks more like one, ay, and smells more like one too. His head is fo prettily dreft, done all down upon the top with fugar, like a frofted cake, with three little curls on each fide, that you may fee his ears as plain! and then his hair is done up behind just like a fine lady's, with a little little hat, and a pair of charming white ftockings, as neat and as fine as any whitelegged fowl; and he always carries a great fwinging ftick in his hand, as big as himself, that he would knock any dog down with who was to offer to bite me. A footman indeed! why, Mifs Jenny likes him as well as 1 do; and she says, all the fine young gentlemen that the ladies in London are fo fond of, are juft fuch perfons as he is. Icod, I fhould have had him before now, but that folks told me I should have a man with a coach; and that methinks I had rather have, a great deal. Good. I am amaz'd! But I abhor the mercenary temper in the girl worfe than all-What, child, would you have any one with a coach? Would you have Mr Achum? Lucy. Yes indeed would I, for a coach. Good. Why, he is a cripple, and can scarce walk across the room. Lucy. What fignifies that? AIR II. Wully Honey. When he in a coach can be carry'd, But if the poor crippled elf In coach be not able to roam, Why then I can go by myself, And he may e'en stay at home. Enter Blifter. Blift. Mr Goodwill, your humble fervant. I have rid twelve long miles in little more than an hour. I am glad to fee you fo well; I was afraid, by your meffageGood, That I had wanted your advice, I fuppofe : Truly, coz, I fent for you on a better account- -Lucy, this is a relation of your's you have not feen a great while, my coufin Blifter the apothecary. Lucy. O la! I hope that great huge man is not to be my hufband. Blift. Blift. My coufin is well grown, and looks healthy. What apothecary do you employ? He deals in good drugs, I warrant him. Good. Plain wholefome food and exercise are what she deals in. Blift. Plain wholefome food is very proper at fome time of the year, with gentle phyfic between whiles. Good. Leave us a little, my dear Lucy, I must talk with your coufin. Lucy. Yes, papa, with all my heart-I hope I fhall never fee that great thing again. [Exit. Good. I believe you begin to wonder at my message; and will perhaps more, when you know the occafion of it. In fhort, without more preface, I begin to find myfelf going out of the world, and my daughter very eager to come into it. I have therefore refolv'd to fee her fettled without farther delay. I am far from thinking vast wealth neceffary to happinefs: Wherefore, as I can give her a fufficient competency, I have determined to marry her to one of my own relations. It will please me, that the fruits of my labour should not go out of the family. I have fent to feveral of my kinsmen, of whom the fhall take her choice; and as you are the first here, if you like my propofal, you shall make the firft application. Blift. With all my heart, coufin; and I am very much oblig❜d to you. Your daughter feems an agreeable young woman, and I have no averfion to marriage. But pray, why do you think yourself going out of the world? Proper care might continue you in it a confiderable while. Let me feel your pulfe. Good. To oblige you; though I am in very good health. Blift. A little feverish-I would advise you to lose a little blood, and take an emulfion, with a gentle emetic and cathartic. Good. No, no, I will fend my daughter to you; but pray keep your phyfic to yourself, dear coufin. [Exit. Blift. This man is near feventy, and I have heard never took any phyfic in his life; and yet he looks as well as if he had been under the doctor's hands all his lifetime. "Tis ftrange; but if I marry his daughter, the |