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Cape. They shall be done.

Vamp. Do so, do so. Books are like women, master Cape; to strike, they must be well dress'd; fine feathers make fine birds; a good paper, an elegant type, a handsome motto, and a catching title, has drove many a dull treatise thro' three editions-Did you know Harry Handy ?

Spri. Not that I recollect.

Vamp. He was a pretty fellow; he had his Latin, ad anguém, as they say; he would have turn'd you a fable of Dryden's, or an epistle of Pope's into Latin verse in a twinkling ; except Peter Hasty the voyage-writer, he was as great a loss to the trade as any within my memory. .

Cape. What carry'd him off?

Vamp. A halter; hang'd for clipping and coining, master Cape ; I thought there was something the matter by his not coming to our shop for a month or two: He was a pretty fellow !.

Spri. Were you a great loser by his death?
Vamp. I can't say :

-as he had taken to another course of living, his execution made a noise ; it sold me seven hundred of his translations, besides his last dying speech and confession; I got it; he was mindful of his friends in his last moments: he was a pretty fellow !

Cape. You have no further commands, Mr. Vamp?

Vamp. Not at present; about the spring I'll deal with you, if we can agree for a couple of volumes in octavo. Spri

. Upon what subject ? Vamp. I leave that to him ; master Cape knows what will do, tho' novels are a pretty light summer reading, and do very well at Tunbridge, Bristol, and the other watering places: no bad commodity for the West-India trade neither; let 'em be novels, . master Cape.

Cape. You shall be certainly supply'd.

Vamp. I doubi not; pray how does Index go on with your journal?

Cape. He does not complain.

Vamp. Ah, I knew the time--but you have over-stock'd the market, Titlepage and I had once lik’d to have engag'd in a paper.

We had got a young Cantab for the essays; a pretty historian from Aberdeen; and an attorney's clerk for the true intelligence; but I don't know how, it drop'd for want of a politician.

Cape. If in that capacity I can be of any-
Vamp. No, thank you, master Cape; in half a

a year's time, I have a grandson of my own that will come in; he's now in training as a waiter at the Cocoa - Tree coffee-house ; I intend giving him the run of Jonathan's for three months to understand trade and the funds; and then I'll start him

no, no, you have enough on your hands; stick to your business: and d'ye hear, 'ware clipping and coining; remember Harry Handy; he was a pretty fellow !

(Exit. Spri. And I'm sure thou art a most extraordinary fellow! But prythee, George, what cou'd provoke thee to make me a writer of sermons?

Cape. You seem'd desirous of being acquainted with our business, and I knew old Vamp wou'd let you more into the secret in five minutes than I cou'd in as many hours. (Knocking below, loud.)

Spri. Cape, to your post; here they are e'faith, a coachful ! let's see, Mr. and Mrs. Cadwallader, and your flame, the sister, as I live.

Cadwallader without)
Pray, by the bye, han't you a poet above ?
(Without.) Higher up.

Cad. Egad, I wonder what makes your poets have such an aversion to middle floors--they are always to be found in the extremities; in garrets, or cellars

Enter Mr. and Mrs. Cadwallader and Arabella.
Cad. Ah! Sprightly !

Spri. Hush !
Cad. Hey, what's the matter?

Spri. Hard at it; untwisting some knotty point; totally absorb'd!

Cad. Gadso! what, that's he! Beck, Bell, there he is, egad, as great a poet, and as ingenious a what's he about ?

Spri. Weaving the whole Æneid into a tragedy:
I have been here this half hour, but he has not
mark'd me yet.

Cad. Cou'd not I take a peep?
Spri. An earthquake wou'd not rouže him.
Cad. He seems in a damn'd passion.

Cape. The belt of Pallas ! nor prayers, nor tears, nor supplicating gods shall save thee now.

Cad. Hey! zounds, what the devil? who?

-Pallas ! te hoc vulnere, Pallas

Immolat, & pænam scelerato ex sanguine sumit. Cad. Damn your palace; I wish I was well out of your garret.

Cape. Sir, I beg ten thousand pardons: ladies, your most devoted. You will excuse me, sir, but being just on the catastrophe of my tragedy, I am afraid the poetic furor may have betray'd me into some indecency. Spri. Oh, Mr. Cadwallader is too great a genius

a himself, not to allow for these intemperate sallies of a heated imagination.

Cad. Genius! look ye here, Mr. What's-yourname?

Cape. Cape.

Cad. Cape! true; tho' by the bye here, hey! you live devilish high ; but perhaps you may chuse that for exercise, hey! Sprightly! Genius! look'e here, Mr. Cape, I had as pretty natural parts, as

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fine talents !--but between you and I, I had damn’d fool of a guardian, an ignorant, illiterate, ecod—he cou'd as soon pay the national debt as write his own name, and so was resolv'd to make his ward no wiser than himself, I think.

Spri. Oh! fye, Mr. Cadwallader, you don't do yourself justice.

Cape. Indeed, sir, we must contradict you, we can't suffer this defamation. I have more than once heard Mr. Cadwallader's literary acquisitions loudly talk'd of.

Cad. Have you ?- no, no, it can't be, hey! tho' let me tell you, last winter, before I had the measles, I cou'd have made as good a speech upon any subject, in Italian, French, German- but I am all unbing'd; all -Oh! Lord, Mr. Cape, this is Becky; my dear Becky, child, this is a great poet ah, but she does not know what that is

a little foolish or so, but of a very good fami.y—here Becky, child, won't you ask Mr. Cape to come and see you?

Mrs. Cad. As Dicky says, I shall be glad to see you at our house, sir.

Cape. I have too great a regard for my own happiness, ma'am, to miss so certain an opportunity of creating it.

Mrs. Cad. Hey! What?

Cape. My inclinations, as well as my duty, I say, will compel me to obey your kind injunctions. Mrs. Cad. What does he say, our Bell?

Arab. Oh, that he can have no greater pleasure than waiting on you.

Mrs. Cad. I'm sure that's more his goodness than my desert; but when you be'nt better engag'd we shou'd be glad of your company of an evening to make one with our Dicky, sister Bell, and I, at whisk and swabbers.

Cad. Hey, ecod do, Cape, come and look at her grotto and shells, and see what she has got

well, he'll come, Beck,-ecod do, and she'll come to the third night of your tragedy, hey! won't you, Beck? - is'nt she a fine girl? hey, you ; humour

, her a little, do;

-hey, Beck; he says you are as fine a woman as ever he ecod who knows but he may make a copy of verses on you?-there, go, and have a little chat with her, talk any nonsense to her, no matter what; she's a damn'd fool, and won't know the difference—there, go, Beck-well, Sprightly, hey! what are you and Bell like to come together? Oh, ecod, they tell me, Mr. Sprightly, that you have frequently lords and viscounts and earls, that take a dinner with you; now I shou'd look upon it as a very particular fayour, if you would invite me at the same time, hey! will you?

Spri. You may depend on it.

Cad. Will you ? Gad, that's kind; for between you and I, Mr. Sprightly, I am of as antiept a family as the best of them, and people of fashion should know one another, you know.

Spri. By all manner of means.

Cad. Hey! should not they so? When you have any lord, or baron, nay egad, if it be but a baronet, or a member of parliament, I shou'd take it as a favour.

Spri. You will do them honour; they must all have heard of the antiquity of your house.

Cad. Antiquity! hey! Beck, where's my pedigree? Mrs. Cad. Why at home, lock'd up

in the but


ler's pantry.

Cad. In the pantry! What the devil, how often have I bid you never to come out without it?

Mrs. Cad. Lord! What signifies carrying such a lumb'ring thing about?

Cad. Signifies ! you are a fool, Beck, why suppose we should have any disputes when we are abroad, about precedence? how the devil shall we

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