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RUST. Worse, worse! a prey, a martyr to ignorance: a housemaid, that I hired last week, mistook it for a broken green chamber-por, and sent it away in the dust-cart.

She merits impaling. Oh, the Hun!

The Vandal!

The Visigoth!

RUST. But I have this day acquired a treasure that will in some measure make me amends.

Indeed! what can that be?

That must be something curious, indeed.

It has cost me infinite trouble to get it.

Great rarities are not had without pains.

RUST. It is three months ago since I got the first scent of it, and I have been ever since on the hunt; but all to no purpose.

I am quite upon thorns till I see it.

RUST. And yesterday, when I had given it over, when all my hopes were grown desperate, it fell into my hands, by the most unexpected and wonderfui accident.

Quod optanti divum promittere nemo

Auderet, volvenda dies en attulit ultro.
Mr. Bever, you remark my quotation?

BEVER. Most happy. Oh, Sir, nothing you say can be lost.

RUST. I have brought it here in my pocket; I am no churl; I love to pleasure my friends.

You are, Mr. Rust, extremely obliging.

Very kind, very obliging, indeed.

It was not much hurt by the fire.

Very fortunate.

RUST. The edges are soil'd by the link; but many of the letters are exceedingly legible.

A little roo--m, if you please.

Here it is; the precious remains of the very
North-Britain that was burnt at the Royal.

Sir THOMAS. Number forty-five?

The fame.

You are a lucky man, Mr. Rust.

RUST. I think so. But, Gentlemen, I hope I need not give you a caution: hush-filence-ano words on this matter.

DACTYL. You may depend upon us.

RUST. For as the paper has not suffered the law, I don't know whether they may noc seize it again.

Sir THOMAS. Sir THOMAS. With us you are safe Mr. Rust. Well, young gentleman, you see we cultivate all branches of science.

BEVER. Amazing, indeed! But when we consider you, Sir Thomas, as the directing, the ruling planet, our wonder subsides in aninstant. Science first saw the day with Socrates in the Attic portico; her early years were spent with Tully in the Tusculan shade; but her ripe, maturer hours, she enjoys with Sir Thomas Lofty, near Cavendish-Square.

Sir THOMAS. The most classical compliment I ever received. Gentlemen, a philosophical repast attends your acceptance within. Sir Roger, you'll lead the way. (Exeunt all but Sir Thomas and Bever.] Mr. Bever, may I beg your ear for a moment Mr. Bever, the friendthip I have for your father, secured you at first a gracious reception from me; - but what I then paid to an old obligation, is now, Sir, due to your own particular merit.

I am happy, Sir Thomas, if-

Sir THOMAS. Your patience. There is in you, Mr. Bever, a fire of imagination, a quickness of apprehension, a solidity of judgment, join'd to a depth of difcretion, that I never yet met with in any subject at your time of life.

I hope I shall never forfeit-

Sir THOMAS. I am sure you never will; 'and to give you a a convincing proof that I think so, I am now going to trust you with the most important secret of my whole life.

Your confidence does me great honour.

But this must be on a certain condition.

Name it.

Sir THOMAS. That you give me your solemn promise to comply with one request I shall make you,

BEVER. There is nothing Sir Thomas Lofty can alk, chat I shall not chearfully grant.

Nay, in fact, it will be serving yourself.

I want no such inducement.

Sir THOMAS. .Enough. But we can't be too private. [Sbuts the door.] Sic you

down. Your Christian name, I think, is—

BEVER. Richard.

Sir THOMAS. True; the same as your father's. Come, let us be familiar. It is, I think, dear Dick, acknowledged, that the English have reached the highest pitch of perfection in every department of writing but one-the dramatic.

Why the French critics are a little severe.

Sir THOMAS. And with reason. Now, to rescue our credit, and at the same time give my country a model, news a manuscript] sec here.

BEVER. A play?


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Sir THOMAS. A chef d'ocuvre.

BEVER. Your own?

Sir THOMAS, Speak lower. I am the author.

BEVER. Nay, then there can be no doubt of it's merit.

Sir THOMAS. I think not. You will be charm'd with the subject.

BEVER, What is it, Sir Thomas ?

Sir THOMAS, I shall furprize you. The story of Robinson Crusoe. Are not you struck?

BEVER. Most prodigiously

Sir THOMAS. Yes; I knew the very title would hit you. You will find the whole fable is finely conducted, and the character of Friday, qualis ab incepto, nobly supported throughout.

BEVER. A pretty difficult talk .

Sir THOMAS. True; that was not a bow for a boy. The piece has long been in rehearsal at Drury-lane playhouse, this night is to make its appearance.

BEVER. To-night?

Sir THOMAS. This night.

BEVER. I will attend, and engage all my friends to fup

port it,

Sir THOMAS. That is not my purpose ; the piece will want no such asistance.

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