Mrs Pen. How, gillflirt? none of your fleers! I am glad here's a husband coming that will take you down: Your tantrums! You are grown too headstrong and robust for me.

Suck. Gad, I believe you would be glad to be taken down the same way!

-But,

Now, Sukey, be

Mrs Pen. Oh! you are a pertsee, your lover approaches. careful, child: None of your

Enter JENKINS, as SIR GREGORY, and HARTOP as TIM.

Jen. Lack-a-day, lady! I rejoice to see you. Wonderful! and your niece! Tim, the ladies.

Har. Your servant, mistress! I am glad to see you, Miss Suck. [Salutes her.] Fath and sole, mistress, Suck's a fine young woman, more or less!

Suck. Yes, I am well enough, I believe. Jen. But, lady, where's my brother Trifle? where is sir Penurious?

Suck. Father's at home, in expectation of you; and aunt and I be come to town to make prepa rations.

Jen. Ay, wonderful! Pray, lady, shall I, good now! crave a word in private? Tim, will you and your sweetheart draw back a little?

Har. Yes, father. Come, miss, will you jog a tiny bit this way?

Suck. With all my heart.

I have no objections to the acceleration of their nuptials, provided the child is inclined, and a minister may be procured.

Jen. Wonderful! you are very good, good now! there has been one match already in the house to-day: we may have the same parson. Here, Tim!—and young gentlewoman! Well, miss! wonderful, and how? has Tim? hey, boy! Is not a miss a fine young lady?

Hur. Faith and sole, father, miss is a charming young woman; all red and white, like MallyHum!

Jen. Hush, Tim! Well, and miss, how does my boy? he's an honest hearty lad? Has he, good now! had the art? How d'ye like him, young gentlewoman?

Suck. Like'n! well enough, I think.

Jen. Why, then, miss, with your leave, your aunt and I, here, have agreed, if you are willing, to have the wedding over directly.

Suck. Gad! with all my heart. Ask the young man.

Har. Faith and sole, just as you please; today, to-morrow, or when you will, more or less. Jen. Good now, good now! then, get you in there; there you will find one to do your business: wonderful! matters will soon be managed within. Well, lady, this was, good now, so kind! Lack-a-day! I verily believe if dame Winny was dead, that I should be glad to lead up such another dance with you, lady.

Mrs Pen. It is, indeed, sir Gregory Gazette, a most critical conjuncture, and requires the most mature deliberation.

Jen. Deliberation! lack-a-day, lady, whilst we deliberate the boy will be lost.

Mrs Pen. Why, sir Gregory Gazette, what operations can we determine upon?

Jen. Lack-a-day! I know but one.

that I, who have rejected so many matches, should instantaneously succumb.

Jen. Lack-a-day, lady, good now! I

Mrs Pen. No, sir; I would have you instructed, that had not Penelope Trifle made irrefragable resolutions, she need not so long have preserved her family surname.

Jen. Wonderful! why, I was only

Mrs Pen. Nor has the title of lady Gazette such resplendent charms, or such bewitching allurements, as to throw me at once into the arms of sir Gregory.

Jen. Good now! who says

Mrs Pen. Could wealth, beauty, or titles su

Enter SIR GREGORY, ROGER, and TIM. Tim. Yes, indeed, father; Mr Hartop knew on't as well as I, and Mr Jenkins got us a parson

Sir Gre. Good now, good now! a rare couple of friends! But I'll be even with them! I' marr their market! Master Jenkins, you have fobbed me finely.

Jen. Lack-a-day, what's the matter now?

Sir Gre. Come, come; none of your lack-adays! none of your gambols, nor your tricks to me: Good now, good now! give me my clothes!

here, take your tawdry trappings! I have found you out at last: I'll be no longer your property. Jen. Wonderful! what's all this, lady? Good now, good now! what's here! a stage play?

Sir Gre. Play me no plays; but give me my wig; and your precious friend, my loving cousin, pize on the kindred, let'n

Jen. Good now, good now! what are these folks? as sure as a gun, they're mad.

Sir Gre. Mad! no, no; we are neither mad nor fools: no thanks to you, though.

Mrs Pen. What is all this; can you unravel this perplexity, untwine this mystery, sir Gregory Gazette?

Sir Gre. He sir Gregory Gazette? Lack-aday, lady! you are tricked, imposed upon, bamboozled Good now, good now! 'tis I am sir Gregory Gazette.

Mrs Pen. How?

Tim. Faith and sole, 'tis true, mistress; and I am his son Tim, and will swear it.

Mrs Pen. Why, isn't Mr Timothy Gazette with my niece Susanuah Trifle?

Tim. Who, me! Lord, no, 'tis none of I; it is cousin Hartop in my cloaths.

Mrs Pen. What's this? and pray, who

Jen. Why, as I see the affair is concluded, you may, madam, call me Jenkins. Come, Hartop, you may now throw off your disguise; the knight had like to have embarrassed us.

Mrs Pen. How, Mr Jenkins! and would you, sir, participate of a plot to

Har. Madam, in the issue, your family will, I hope, have no great reason to repent. I always had the greatest veneration for Miss Penelope Trifle's understanding; if the highest esteem for her virtues can entitle me to the honour of being regarded as her relation

Mrs Pen. Sir, I shall determine on nothing, 'till I am apprised of my brother's resolution.

Har. For that we must wait. Sir Gregory, I must intreat you and your son's pardon for some little liberties I have taken with you both. Mr Jenkins, I have the highest obligation to your friendship; and, miss, when we become a little better acquainted, I flatter myself the change will not prove unpleasing.

Suck. I know nothing at all about it. Har. Sir Gregory, we shall have your company at dinner?

Sir Gre. Lack-a-day! no, no; that boy has spoiled my stomach. Come, Tim, fetch thy rib, and let us be jogging towards Wales; but how thou wilt get off with thy motherTim. Never fear, father

SCENE-I.

Enter WINGATE and SIMON. Win. NAY, nay, but I tell you I am convinced -I know it is so; and so, friend, don't you think to trifle with me;-I know you're in the plot, you scoundrel; and if you don't discover all, I'll

Sim. Dear heart, sir, you won't give a body time.

Win. Zookers! a whole month missing, and no account of him, far or near; wounds! 'tis unaccountable-Look ye, friend, don't you pre

tend

Sim. Lord, sir! you're so main passionate, you won't let a body speak.

Win. Speak out then, and don't stand muttering: what a lubberly fellow you are! ha, ha!Why don't you speak out, you blockhead?

Sim. Lord, sir, to be sure, the gentleman is a fine young gentleman, and a sweet young gentle

man-but, lack-a-day, sir! how should I know any thing of him?

Win. Sirrah, I say he could not be 'prentice to your master so long, and you live so long in one house with him, without knowing his haunts, and all his ways; and then, varlet, what brings you here to my house so often?

Sim. My master Gargle and I, sir, are so uneasy about un, that I have been running all over the town since morning, to enquire for un; and so in my way, I thought I might as well call here

Win. A villain, to give his father all this trouble! and so, you have not heard any thing of him, friend?

Sim. Not a word, sir, as I hope for marcy! though, as sure as you are there, I believe I can guess what's come on un. As sure as any thing, master, the gypsies have gotten held on un, and we shall have un come home, as thin as a rake,

Sim. Sir?

Win. Where are you going in such a hurry?— Let me see; what must be done?-A ridiculous numskull, with his damned Cassanders and Cloppatras and trumpery; with his romances, and his Odyssey Popes, and a parcel of rascals not worth a groat-wearing stone buckles, and cocking his hat-I never wear stone buckles, never cock my hat. But, zookers! I'll not put myself in a passion. Simon, do you step back to your master, my friend Gargle, and tell him I want to speak with him-though I don't know what I should send for him for-a sly, slow, hesitating blockhead! he'll only plague me with his physical cant and his nonsense-Why don't you go, you booby, when I bid you?

Sim. Yes, sir.

[Erit. Win. This fellow will be the death of me at last; I can't sleep in my bed sometimes for him. An absurd, insignificant rascal-to stand in his own light! Death and fury, that we can't get children, without having a love for them! I have been turmoiling for the fellow all the days of my life, and now the scoundrel's run away-Suppose I advertise the dog, and promise a reward to any one that can give an account of him—well, butwhy should I throw away my money after him? why, as I don't say what reward, I may give what I please when they come-ay, but if the villain should deceive me, and happen to be dead; why, then, he tricks me out of two shilhngs; my money's flung into the fire. Zookers! I'll not put myself in a passion; let him follow his nose; 'tis nothing at all to me; what care I? -What do you come back for, friend?

Re-enter SIMON.

Sim. As I was going out, sir, the post came to the door, and brought this letter.

Win. Let me see it- -The gypsies have got hold of him! ha, ha! what a pretty fellow you are! ha, ha! why don't you step where I bid you, sirrah?

Sim. Yes, sir.

[Erit. Win. Well, well—I'm resolved, and it shall be so I'll advertise him to-morrow morning, and promise, if he comes home, all shall be forgiven: and when the blockhead comes, I may do as I please-ha, ha! I may do as I please! Let me sce: He had on-a silver-looped hat: I never liked those vile.silver-loops-A silver-looped hat; and-and-Slidikins, what signifies what he had on?--I'll read my letter, and think no more about him. Hey! what a plague have we here?

6

'Esteemed friend,

Last was 20th ultimo, since none of thine, 'which will occasion brevity. The reason of my writing to thee at present, is to inform thee, that thy son came to our place with a company of strollers, who were taken up by the magistrate, and committed, as vagabonds, to jail.'-Zookers! I'm glad of it—a villain of a fellow! Let him lie there- I am sorry thy lad should follow 'such profane courses; but, out of the esteem I 'bear unto thee, I have taken thy boy out of confinement, and sent him off for your city in the waggon, which left this four days ago. He is signed to thy address, being the needful from thy friend and servant,

6

"EBEENEEZOR BROADBRIM.'

Wounds! what did he take the fellow out for? a scoundrel, rascal! turned stage-player!—I'll never see the villain's face.-Who comes there?

Enter SIMON.

Sim. I met my master on the way, sir-our cares are over: Here he is, sir. Win. Let him come in-and do you go down stairs, you blockhead. [Exit SIMON.

Enter GARGLE.

Win. So friend Gargle, here's a fine piece of work-Dick's turned vagabond!

Gar. He must be put under a proper regimen directly, sir: He arrived at my house within these ten minutes, but in such a trim! he's now below stairs; I judged it proper to leave him there, till I had prepared you for his reception.

Win. Death and fire! what could put it into the villain's head to turn buffoon?

Gar. Nothing so easily accounted for: Why, when he ought to be reading the dispensatory, there was he constantly reading over plays and farces, and Shakespeare.

Win. Ay, that damned Shakespeare! I hear the fellow was nothing but a deer-stealer in Warwickshire: Zookers! if they had hanged him out of the way, he would not now be the ruin of honest men's children. But what right had he to read Shakespeare? I never read Shakespeare! Wounds! I caught the rascal, myself, reading that nonsensical play of Hamlet, where the prince is keeping company with strollers and vagabonds: A fine example, Mr Gargle!

Gar. His disorder is of the malignant kind, and my daughter has taken the infection from him-bless my heart! she was as innocent as water-gruel, till he spoilt her. I found her, the other night, in the very fact.

Win. Zookers! you don't say so?-caught her in the fact !

Gar. Ay, in the very fact of reading a playbook in bed.

Win. O, is that the fact you mean? Is that all? though that's bad enough,

Gar. But I have done for my young madam : I have confined her to her room, and locked up all her books.

Win. Look ye, friend Gargle, I'll never see the villain's face: Let him follow his nose, and bite the bridle.

Gar. Lenitives, Mr Wingate, lenitives are properest at present: His habit requires gentle alteratives: but leave him to my management; about twenty ounces of blood, with a cephalic tincture, and he may do very well.

Win. Where is the scoundrel?

Win. 'Sdeath, you're as mad yourself as any of them!

Gar. And continuing to run in the same ducts

Win. Ducks! Damn your ducks!—Who's below there?

Gar. The texture of the brain becomes disordered, and-[WINGATE walks about uneasily, and GARGLE follows.]-thus, by the pressure on the nerves, the head is disturbed, and so your son's malady is contracted.—

Win. Who's without there?-Don't plague me so, man.

Gar. But I shall alter the morbid state of the juices, correct his blood, and produce laudable chyle.

Win. Zookers, friend Gargle, don't teaze me so; don't plague me with your physical nonsense

Win. Harsh language! Why, do you think, man, I'd call him a scoundrel, if I had not a regard for him? You don't hear me call a stranger a scoundrel?

Gar. Dear sir, he may still do very well; the boy has very good sentiments.

Win. Sentiment! a fig for sentiment! let him get money, and never miss an opportunity-I never missed an opportunity; got up at five in the morning; struck a light; made my own fire; worked my finger's ends; and this vagabond of a fellow is going his own way-with all my heart; what care I let him follow his nose; let him follow his nose—a ridiculous

Gar. Ay, ridiculous, indeed, sir-Why, for a long time past, he could not converse in the language of common sense. Ask him but a trivial question, and he'd give some cramp answer out of some of his plays that had been running in his head, and so there's no understanding a word he says.

Win. Zookers! this comes of his keeping company with wits, and be damned to them for wits, ha, ha! Wits! a fine thing indeed, ha, ha! 'Tis the most beggarly, rascally, contemptible thing on earth!

Gar. And then, sir, I have found out that he went three times a-week to a spouting-club. Win. A spouting-club, friend Gargle! What's a spouting-club?

Gar. A meeting of 'prentices and clerks, and giddy young men, intoxicated with plays; and so they meet in public-houses to act speeches; there they all neglect business, despise the advice of their friends, and think of nothing but to become

up.

Gar. Dear sir, be a little cool-Inflammatories may be dangerous. Do, pray, sir, moderate your passions.

Win. Prithee, be quiet, man-I'll try what I can do-Here he comes.

Enter DICK,

Dick. Now, my good father, what's the matter?

Win. So, friend, you have been upon your travels, have you? You have had your frolic? Look ye, young man, I'll not put myself in a passion : But, death and fire, you scoundrel, what right have you to plague me in this manner? Do you think I must fall in love with your face, because I am your father?

Dick. A little more than kin, and less than kind.

Win. Ha, ha! what a pretty figure you cut now! ha, ha!-why don't you speak, you blockhead? Have you nothing to say for yourself?

Dick. Nothing to say for yourself!-What an old prig it is!

Win. Mind me, friend-I have found you out; I see you'll never come to good. Turn stageplayer! Wounds! you'll not have an eye in your head in a month, ba, ha! you'll have them knocked out of the sockets with withered apples; remember I tell you so.

Dick. A critic too! [Whistles.] Well done, old Square-toes!

Win. Look ye, young man ; take notice of what I say: I made my own fortune, and I could do the same again. Wounds! if I were placed at the bottom of Chancery-lane, with a brush and black-ball, I'd make my own fortune again-you read Shakespeare !-Get Cocker's Arithmetic; you may buy it for a shilling on any stall-best book that ever was wrote.

Dick. Pretty well, that; ingenious, faith!