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Sir THOMAS. What, is Juliet appriz'd? Here, Robin, John, run and call my niece hither this moment. That giddy baggage will blab all in an instant.

BEVER. You are mistaken; she is wiser than you are aware of.

Enter Juliet.

Oh, Juliet ! you know what has happen'd.

I do, Sir.

Have you reveal'd this unfortunate secret.

To no mortal, Sir Thomas,

Sir THOMAS. Come, give me your hand. Mr. Bever, child, for my fake, has renounced the stage, and the whole republic of letters; in return I owe him

your hand.

JULIET. My hand! what, to a poet hooted, hissed, and exploded ! You must pardon me, Sir.

Sir THOMAS. Juliet, a trifle : the most they can say of him, is, that he is a little wanting in wit; and he has so many brother writers to keep him in countenance, that now-a-days that is no reflection at all.

Then, Sir, your engagement to Mr. Rust.

Sir THOMAS I have found out the rafcal; he has been more impertinently severe on my play, than all the reft put together; so that I am determined he shall be none of the man.


Enter Ruß.

RUST. Are you so, Sir? what, then, I am to be sacri. ficed, in order to preserve the secret that you are a blockhead? But you are out in your politics; before night it shall be known in all the coffeehouses in town.

Sir THOMAS. For Heaven's sake, Mr. Ruft!

RUST. And to-morrow I will paragraph you in every news-paper; you shall no longer impofe on the world; I will unmask you; the lion's skin Thall hide you no longer.

Julier! Mr. Bever! what can I do?

Sir Thomas, let me manage this matter.
Harkee, old gentleman, a word in your ear: you
remember what


have in your pocket?

RUST. Hey! how! what?

BEVER. The curiosity that has cost you so much pains.

What, my Æneas! my precious relict of Troy!

You must give up that, or the lady.

How, Mr. Bever!

Never fear; I am sure of my man.

RUST. Let me confider-As to the girl, girls are plenty enough; I can marry whenever I will: but my paper, my phenix, that springs fresh from the Hames, that can never be match'd.Take her.

BEVER. And, as you love your own secret, be careful of ours.

RUST. I am dumb.

Sir THOMAS. Now, Juliet.

JULIET. You join me, Sir, to an unfortunate bard; but, to procure your peace

Sir THOMAS. You oblige me for ever. Now the secret dies with us four. My fault. I owe him much:

Be it your care to Thew it ;
And bless the man, tho' I have damn'd the poet.

Exeunt Omnes.


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