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brogue, and some dancing too, into the bargain, Keck. I don't care for your savings abis it loves capering—o bless me! my heart fails afraid? me, and I am frightened out of my wits; I can Ilhit. There goes Bates: let us aroid hin, le never go through it.

will only be joking with us: when I bare tagea [NEPHEW and Bates both laugh.- a serious thing into ray head, I can't bear to bare

NEPHEW, kneeling, and kissing her it laughed out again. This way, friend Kocke hand,

ser-What have we got here? 0, 'tis admirable! Love biinself inspires you, and Keck. Į Looking out.) Some fine prancing we shall conquer. What say you, Jir Bates ? wench, with ber lovers and footmen about her;

Bates. I'll insure you success; I can scarce be- she's a gay one, by her motions. lieve iny own ears : such a tongue and a brogue Whit. Were she not so flaunting, I should tale would make Hercules trenible at five-and-twen- it for- Yo, it is impossible; and yet is not that ty! But awav, away, and give bin the first broad-iny nephew with her? I forbad hin speaking to side in the Park; there you'll find him hobbling her; it can't be the widow! I bope it is not. with that old cuckold, Kecksev. Hid. But will my dress suit the character I

Enter Widow, followed by Nephew, three play?

Footmen, and a black Boy. Veph. The very thing! Is your retinue ready, and your part got by heart?

Wid. Don't bother me, young man, with yner Hilt. All is ready; 'tis an act of despair to darts, your cupids, and your pangs; if you had punish folly and reward merit; 'tis the last ef half of them aboué you that you swear you have, fort of pure, honourable love; and if every wo- they would have cured you, by killing you long man would exert the same spirit for the same ago. Would you have me faitless to your ancie

, out-of-fashion rarity, there would be less busi- hah! young man? Was not I faitful to you, tad ness for Doctors-Commons. Now let the critics I was ordered to be faitful to bina? but I must laugh at me, if they dare. [Erit with spirit. know more of your English ways, and live mere Neph. Bravo! bravissimo! sweet widow! among the English ladies, to learn how to be

[E.rit after her. faitful to two at a tiine-and so there's my af Bates. Huzza! huzza !

[Exit. swer for you.

Neph. Then I know my relief, for I FUND

live without you. SCENE III.- The Park.

Wid. Take what relief you plase, voung jerite Enter WHITTLE and KECKSEY,

man, what have I to do with dat? He is certainly

niad, or out of his sinses, for he swears be cut N'hit. Yes, yes, she is Irish; but so modest, live without me, and yet he talks of killing tum so mild, and so tender, and just enough of the self? bow does he make out dat? if a country. accent to give a peculiar sweetuess to her words, man of mine had made such a blunder, they which drop from her in monosyllables, with such would have put it into all the newspapers, and a delicate reserve, that I shall have all the com- Faulkner's Journal beside; but an Englishmas fort, without the impertinence of a wife. may look over the hedge, while an Irishnan not

Keck. There our taste differs, friend ; I am for not stale a horse. a lively smart girl in my house, hugh! hugh! to Keck. Is this the widow, friend Whitele? keep up my spirits, and make me merry. I don't Whit. I don't know; (Sighing) it is, and it is admire dumb waiters, not 1; no still life for me; not. I love the prittle prattle; it eets me to sleep, and Hid. Your servant, Mr Whittol; I wish you I can take a sound nap, while my Sally and her would spake to your nephew not to be shiling cousin are running and playing about the house and dangling after me all day in his green cal

, like young cats.

like a parrot : It is not for my reputatioa tha! Whit. I am for no cats in my house; I cannot he should follow me about like a beggar-131, sleep with a noise; the widow was made on pur- and ask me for what I had given him loog 29, pose for me; she is so bashtul, has no acquaint- but have since bestowed upon you, Mr Whitto. ance, and she never would stir out of doors, if Ithit. He is an impudent beggar, and shall be her friends were not afraid of a consumption, really so for his disobedience. and so force her into the air: Such a delicate Irid. As he can't live without me, you kn, creature! you shall see her; you were always it will be charity to starve hiin: I wish the most for a tall, chattering, frisky wench; now, for my young man dead with all my heart, as he tools part, I am with the old saying,

it will do him a grate deal of good.

Kock. [To WUTTLE. She is tender, indend! Wise a mouse,

and I think she has the brogue a little-bugh! Quiet house;

hup!! Wife a cat,

Ilhit. It is stronger to-day than ever I heard Dreadful that! it.

Starting say I.


Wid. And are you now talking of my brogue? has a fine full-toned voice, and you'll be very It is always the most fullest when the wind is happy, Tom-Hugh! hugh! aesterly; ic has the same effect upon me as upon

Whit. O yes, very happy. stammering people, they can't spake for their Wid. But come, don't let us be melancholy impediment, and my tongue is fixed so loose in before the time: I am sure I have been moped my wouth, I can't stop it for the life of me. up for a year and a half-I was obliged to mourn Whit

. What a terrible misfortune, friend for my first husband, that I might be sure of a Kecksey !

second; and my father kept my spirits in subjecKeck. Not at all; the more tongue the better, tion, as the best receipt (he said) for changing a

widow into a wife ; but now I have my arms Wid. When the wind changes, I have no brogue and legs at liberty, I must and will have my at all, at all. But come, Mr Whittol, don't let swing: Now, I am out of my cage, I coulil dance us be vulgar, and talk of our poor relations: It two nights together, and a day, too, like any singis impossible to be in this metropolis of London, ing bird; and I'm in such spirits, that I have got and have any thought but of operas, plays, mas- rid of my father, I could fly over the moon withquerades, and pantaous, to keep up one's spirits out wings, and back again, before dinner. Bless in the winter; and Ranelaghi, Vauxhall, and Ma- my eyes! and don't I see there Miss Narcy ('. rybone fireworks, to cool and refresh one in the Flarty, and her brother captain OʻFlarty? Ile La! la! la!

[Sings. was one of my dying Strephons at Scarborough. Whit. I protest she puts me into a sweat! we I have a very great regard for him, and must shall have a mob about us.

make him a liitle miserable with my happiness. Keck. The more the merrier, I say—who's (Curtseys.] Come along, Skips ! [To the servants.] afraid?

don't you be gostring there; show your liveries, Wid. How the people stare! as if they never and bow to your master that is to be, and to his saw a woman's voice before; but my vivacity has friend, and hold up your heads, and trip after got the better of my good manners. This, I sup- me as lightly as if you had no legs to your fect. pose, this strange gentleman, is a near friend and I shall be with you agaili, jontlemen, in the crack relation? and, as such, notwithstanding his ap- of a fan—0, I'll have a husband, av, marry! pearance, I shall always trate him, though I

(Erit singing, might dislike him upon a nearer acquaintance.

Keck. A fine buxom widow, faith! no acheck. Madam, you do me honour! I like your quaintance-delicate reserve-mopes at homefrankness, and I like your person, and I envy my forced into the air—inclined to a consumptionfriend Whittie; and if you were not engaged, What a description you gave of your wife! Why, and I were not married, I would endeavour to she bcats mv Sally, Tom ! make myself agreeable to you, that I would- Whit. Yes, and she'll beat me, if I don't take bugh! hugh!

care. What a change is here! I inust turn about, Wid, And indeed, sir, it would be very agra- or this will turn my head. Dance for two nights able to me ; for if I should hate you as much as together! and leap over the moon! you shall I did my first dare husband, I should always dance and leap hy vourself, that I am resolved. have the comfort, that, in all human probability,

Keck. Here she comes again; it does iny my torments would not last long.

heart good to sec her-You are in luck, Tom. keck. She utiers something more than mono- Whit. I would give a finger to be out of such syllables, friend! this is better than bargain: she luck. has a fine bold way of talking. Whit. More bold than welcome! I am struck

Enter Widow, 8c. all of a heap!

Wid. What, are you low spirited, my dare Mr Wid. Ha, ha, ha! the poor captain is marched Whittol? When you were at Scarborough, and off in a fury: he can't bear to hear that the winning my affections, you were all mirth and town has capitulated to you, Mr Whiitol. I bave griety; and now you have won me, you are as promised to introduce him to you: he will thoughtful about it as if we had been married make one of my danglers to take a little exercise some tine!



your nap in the afterKhit. Indeed, madam, I can't but say

I little thoughtful! we take it hy turns; you were

Whit. You shan't catch me napping, I assure very sorrowful a month ago for the loss of your you. What a discovery and escape I have made! husband and that you could dry up your tears so I am in a sweat with the thought of my, danger! soon naturally makes me a little thoughtful.

Aside. Wid. Indeed, I could dry up my tears for a Keck. I protest, cousin, there goes my wife, dozen busbands when I was sure of having a tir- and her friend Mr Mac Brawn. What a tine teenth like Mr Whittol : that's very natural, stately couple they are! I must after them, and sure, both in England and Dublin, too!

have a laugh with thein-now they giggle and Keck. She won't die of a consumption; she walk quick, that I mayn't overtake them. Va

me, when


am a


dam, your servant. You're a happy man, Tom! | bout a week together : I have a fine constitu Keep up your spirits, old boy! Hugh! hugh!- tion, and am never molested with your nasty vawho's afraid !

pours. Are you ever troubled with vapours, Mr

[Erit. Whittol? Wid. I know Mr Mac Brawn extremely well. Whit. A little now and then, madam. He was very intimate at our house in my first Wid. I'll rattle them away like smoke! there husband's time; a great comfort he was to me, are no vapours where I come. I hate your to be sure ! He would very often leave his claret dumps, and your nerves, and your megrims; and and companions for a little conversation with I had much rather break your rest with a little me : He was bred at the Dublin university ;- racketting, than let any thing get into your head and, being a very deep scholar, has fine talents that should not be there, Mr Whittol. for a tate a tate.

Whit. I will take care that nothing shall be in Whit. She knows him, too! I shall bave my my head, but what ought to be there : What a house over-run with the Mac Brawns, O'Shoul- deliverance ! ders, and the blood of the Backwells : Lord have

(Aside. mercy upon me!

Wid. (Looking at her watch.] Bless me! how Wid. 'Pray, Mr Whittol, is that poor spindle- the hours of the clock creep away when we are legged crater of a cousin of yours lately marri- plased with our company ! But I must lave you, ed? ha, ha, ha! I don't pity the poor crater his for there are half a hundred people waiting for me wife, for that agreable cough of his will soon re- to pick your pocket, Mr Whittol. And there is ward her for all her sufferings.

my own brother, lieutenant O'Neale, is to arrive Whit. What a delivery! a reprieve before the this morning; and he is so like me, you would knot was tied!

(Aside. not know us asunder when we are together. You Wid. Are you unwell, Mr Whittol? I should will be very fond of him, poor lad! He lives by be sorry you would fall sick before the happy his wits, as you do by your fortune, and so you day. Your being in danger afterwards would may assist one another. Mr Whittol, your obabe a great consolation to me, because I should dient, 'till we meet at the pantaon. Follow me, have the pleasure of nursing you myself. Pompey! and Skips, do you follow him.

Whit. I hope never to give you that trouble, Pom. The Baccararo white man no let blacky madam.

boy go first after you, missis; they pull and Wid. No trouble at all, at all! I assure you, pinch me. sir, from my soul, that I shall take great delight Foot. It is a shame, your ladyship, that a in the occasion.

black negro should take place of English chrisWhit. Indeed, madam, I believe it.

tians-We can't follow him, indeed. Wid. I don't care how soon; the sooner the Wid. Then you may follow one another out better; and the more danger the more honour : of my sarvice : if you follow me, you shall follow I spake from my heart.

him, for he shall go before ine : Can't I make Whit. And so do I from mine, madam. him your superior, as the laws of the land have

[Sighs. made bim your equal ? therefore, resign as fast Wid. But don't let us think of future pleasure, as you plase ; you shan't oppose government, and and neglect the present satisfaction. My man- keep your places, too; that is not good politics in tua-maker is waiting for me to choose my clothes, England or Ireland either; so, come along, Pomin which I shall forget the sorrows of Mrs Brady pey, be after going before me Mr Whittol, in the joys of Mrs Whittol. Though I have no most tinderly yours. fortune myself, I shall bring a tolerable one to

[Erit. you, in debts, Mr Whittol; and which I will pay Whit. Most tinderly yours! [Mimicks her. you tinfold in tinderness : Your deep purse, and Ecod, I believe you are, and any body's else. my open heart, will make us the envy of the lit- O what an escape have I had ! But how shall I tle grate ones, and the grate little ones; the peo- clear myself of this business? I'll serve her as I ple of quality, with no souls, and grate souls would bad money, put her off into other hands : with no cash at all. I hope you'll meet me at My nephew is fool enough to be in love with the pantaon this evening. Lady Rantiton, and her, and if I give him a fortune, he'll take the her daughter Miss Nettledown, and Nancy Tit- good and the bad together-Ile shall do so, or tup, with half a dozen Maccaronies, and two Sa- starve. I'll send for Bates directly, confess my voury Virers, are to take me there; and we folly, ask his pardon, send him to my nephew, propose a grate deal of chat and merriment, and write and declare off with the widow, and so get dancing all night, and all other kind of recrea- rid of her tinderness as fast as I can. ations. I am quite another kind of a crater,

[Erit. now I am a bird in the fields: I can junket a

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SCENE I.-A room in Wuttle's house. Bates. The demon of discord has been among

you, and has untuned the whole fainily; you Enter Bates and Nephew.

have screwed him too high: the young man is

out of his senses, I think: he stares and niepes Neph. [Taking him by the hand.) We are about, and sighislooks at me, indeed, but gives bound to you for ever, Mír Bates : I can say no very absurd answers. I don't like hiin. more; words but ill express the real feelings of Il'hit. What's the matter, think you? the heart.

Butes. What I have always expected. There Bates. I know you are a good lad, or I would is a crack in your family, and you take it by not have meddled in the matter; but the busi- turns! you have had it, and now transfer it to ness is not yet completed till signatum et sigil- your nephew ; which, to your shame be it spolatum.

ken, is the only transfer you have ever made Neph. Let me fly to the widow, and tell her him. how prosperously we go on.

Whit. But am not I going to do hiin more Butes. Don't be in a hurry, young man! She than justice? is not in the dark, I assure you, nor has she yet Bates. As you have done him much less than finished her part: so capital an actress should not justice hitherto, you can't begin too soon. be idle in the last act.

Whit. Am not I going to give biin the ladly Neph. I could wish that you would let me be likes, and which I was going to marry mycome into my uncle's proposal at once, without self? vexing him farther.

Bates. Yes, that is, you are taking a perpetuBates. Then I declare off. Thou silly young al blister off your own back, to clap it upon his? man, are you to be duped by your own weak What a tender uncle good nature, and his worldly craft? This does not W'hit. But you don't consider the estate which arise from his love and justice to you, but from I shall give hiin? his own miserable situation; he must be tortu- Bates. Restore to him, you mean; 'tis his red into justice: lle shall not only give up your own, and you should have given it up long ago: whole estate, which he is loth to part with, but you must do more, or Old Nick will have you.you must now have a premium for agreeing to Your nephew won't take the widow off your your own happiness. What, shall your widow, hands without a fortune throw him ten tlouwith wit and spirit, that would do the greatest sand into the bargain. honour to our sex, go through her task cheerful- Whit. Indeed, but I shan't ; he shall run mad, ly, and shall your courage give way, and be and I'll marry her myself, rather than do that. outdone by a woman's ?-tie for shame!

Mr Bates, be a true friend, and sooth my neNeph. I beg your pardon, Mr Bates ! I will phew to consent to my proposal. follow your directions : be as hard-hearted as Bates. You have raised the tiend, and ought my uncle, and vex his body and mind for the to lay him; however, I'll do my best for you :good of his soul.

When the head is turned, nothing can bring ic Bates. That's a good child! and remember right again so soon as ten thousand pounds.-that your own, and the widow's future bappiness, Shall I promise for you? depends upon your both going through this busi- Whit. I'll sooner go to Beillam muself. [Erit ness with spirit; make your uncle feel for him- BATES.! Why, I am in a worse condition than I self, that he may do justice to other people. Is was before! If this widow's father will not let me the widow ready for the last experiment? be off without providing for his daughter, I may

Neph. She is. But think what anxiety I shall lose a great sum of money, and none of us be feel wbile she is in danger!

the better for it. My nephew half mad! myBates. Ha, ha, ha! she'll be in no danger; self half married! and no remedy for either of besides, shan't we be at hand to assist her?Hark! I hear him coming : I'll probe bis callous heart to the quick! and, if we are not paid for

Enter Serrant. our trouble, say I am no politician. Fly: now we shall do!

Ser. Sir Patrick O'Neale is come to wait up[Erit Nephea, on vou; would you please to see him?

l'hit. By all means, the very person I wantEnter WITTLE.

ed; don't let him wait. [Erit Servant.] I won

der if he has sien my letter to the widow; I Ithit. Well, Mr Bates, have you talked with will sound him by degrees, that I may be sure of my nephew? is not he overjoyed at the propo- my mark before I strike my blow. sal?


Enter Sie PATRICK,

Sir Pat. Till you are married, you mane

With all my heart, it is the more gentale for Sir Pat. Mr Whizzle, your humble servant. — that, and like our family. I never saw lady It gives me great pleasure, that an old jontleman O'Nale, your mother-in-law, who, poor crater, of your property, will bave the honour of being is dead, and can never be a mother-in-law again, united with the family of the O'Xales! We have l 'till the week before I married her; and I did been too inuch jontlemen not to spend our es- not care if I had never seen her then ; which is tate, as you have made yourself a kind of joutle- a comfort, too, in case of death, or accidents in man by getting one. One runs out one way, life. and t'other runs in another: which makes them Whit. But you don't understand me, sir Paboth meet at last, and keeps up the balance of trick. I sayEurope.

Sir Pat. I say, how can that be, when we both whit. I am much obliged to you, sir Patrick; spahe English? I am an old gentleman, you say true; and I was Whit. But you mistake my meaning, and don't thinking

comprehend me. Sir Pat. And I was thinking, if you were ever Sir Pat. Then, you don't comprehend yourso old, my daughter can't make you young again : self, Mr Whizzle ; and I have not ihe gift of proShe has as rich fine thick blood in her veins as phecy to find out, after you have spoke, what any in all Ireland. I wish you had a swate cra- nerer was in you. ter of a daughter like mine, that we might mahe Whit. Let me intreat you to attend to me a a double cross of it.

little. Whit. That would be a double cross, indeed! Sir Pat. I do attend, man ; I don't interrupt

[ Aside. you--out with it! Sir Pat. Though I was miserable enough with Whit. Your daughtermy first wife, who had the devil of a spirit---and Sir Pat. Your wife that is to be. Go onthe very model of her daughter---yet a brave man Ithit. My wife that is not to be-Zounds! never shrinks from danger, and I may have bet- will you hear me ? ter luck another time.

Sir Pat. To be, or not to be, is that the Whit. Yes; but I am no brave man, sir Pa- question? I can swear, too, if he wants a little trick; and I begin to shrink already.

of that. Sir Pat. I have bred her up in great subjec- Whit. Dear sir Patrick, hear me! I confess tion; she is as tame as a young colt

, and as tin- myself unworthy of her; I have the greatest reder as a suching chicken. You will find her a true yard for you, sir Patrick; I should think myself jontlewoman; and so knowing, that you can honoured by being in your family; but there are teach her uothing : She brings every thing but many reasonsmoney, and you have enough of that, if you have Sir Pat. To be sure, there are many reasons nothing else; and that is what I call the balance why an old man should not marry a young woof things.

man; but that was your business, and not mine. Whit. But I have been considering your Whit. I have wrote a letter to your daughter, daughter's great deserts, and my great age- which I was in hopes you had seen, and brought

Sir Pat. She's a charming crater; I would me an answer to it. venture to say that, if I was not her father. Sir Pat. What the devil, Mr Whizzle! do you

Whit. I say, sir, as I have been considering make a letter-porter of me? Do you imagine, your daughter's great deserts, and as I own I you dirty fellow, with your cash, that sir Patrick have great demerits

O‘Nale would carry your letters? I would have Sir Pat. To be sure you have; but you can't you know that I despise your letters, and all that help that: And if my daughter was to mention belong to them; nor would I carry a letter to any thing of a feering at your age, or your stin- the king, Heaven bless him! unless it ca

came giness, by the balance of power, but I would from myself. make her repate it a hundred times to your face, Wht. But, dear sir Patrick, don't be in a pasto make her ashamed of it. But mum, old jon- sion for nothing ! tleman, the devil a word of your intirmities will Sir Pat. What! is it nothing to make a penny she touch upon : I have brought her up to soft-postman of me? But I'll go to my daughter diness, and to gentleness, as a kitten to new milk; rectly, for I have not seen her to-day; and, if I she wil spake nothing but no, and yes, as if she find that you have written any thing that I won't were dumb; and no tame rabbit or pigeon will understand, I shall take it as an affront to my keep house, or be more inganious with her needle family; and you shall either let out the noble and tambourine.

blood of the O‘Nales, or I will spill the last drop Whit. She is vastly altered then, since I saw of the red puddle of the Whizzles. [Going, and her last, or I have lost my senses; and, in either returns.] İlark'e, you Mr Whizzle, Wheezle, case, we had much better, since I must speak Whistle, what's your name? You must not stir, plain, not come together.

till I come back; if you offer to ate, drink, or

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