Fun. Stay till I recover my wind.

Brid. Let your head be erect.
Fun. There.

Brid. And your fhoulders fall eafily back.

Brid. Your fwitch perpendicular in your right hand Your right that is it, your left to

the bridle.

Fun. There.

Brid. Your knees in, and your toes out.

Brid. Are you ready?

Fun. When you will.

Brid. Off you go.

Fun. Don't let him gallop at firft.

Brid. Very well: preferve your pofition.

Fun. I warrant.

Brid. Does he carry you eafy?

Fun. All the world like a cradle. But, Mr.

Bridoun, I go at a wonderful rate.

Brid. Mind your knees.

Fun. Ay, ay, I can't think but this here horfe ftands ftill very near as fast as another can gallop. Brid. Mind your toes.

Fun. Ho, Stop the horfe. Zounds! I'm out of the ftirrups, I can't fit him no longer; there I go. [Falls off.

Brid. I hope you ar'n't hurt?

Fun. My left hip has a little confufion.

Brid. A trifle, quite an accident; it might happen to the very best rider in England.

Fun. Indeed!

Brid. We have fuch things happen every day at the manege; but you are vaftly improved. Fun. Why, I am grown bolder a little; and,

Mr.

Mr. Bridoun, when do you think I may venture to ride a live horse?

Brid. The very inftant you are able to keep your feat on a dead one.

Enter Mrs. MECHLIN.

Mrs. Mech. Bless me, Mr. Fungus, how you are trifling your time! I expect lady Sachariffa every moment, and fee what a trim you are in!

Fun. I beg pardon, good madam Mechlin. I'll be equipped in a couple of minutes; where will her lady fhip please to receive me?

Mrs. Mech. In this room, to be fure; come, ftir, ftir.

Fun. I have had a little fall from my horfe.I'll go as faft as I-Mr. Bridoun, will you lend me a lift? [Exeunt Fungus and Bridoun. Mrs. Mech. There-Jenny, fhow Mrs. Loveit in here-Who's there ?

Enter SERVANTS.

Pray move that piece of lumber out of the way. Come, come, make hafte. Madam, if you'll step in here for a moment,

Enter Mrs. LOVEIT.

Mrs. Lov, So, fo, Mrs. Mechlin; well, you fee I am true to my time; and how have you throve, my good woman?

Mrs. Mech. Beyond expectations.

Mrs. Lov. Indeed! And have you provided a party?

Mrs. Mech. Ay, and fuch a party, you might fearch the town . round before you could meet with his fellow he'll fuit you in every respect. Mrs. Lov. As how, as how, my dear woman? Mrs. Mech. A gentleman by birth and by breed

D 3

ing,

ing, none of your little whipper fnapper Jacks, but a countenance as comely, and a prefence as portly; he has one fault indeed, if you can but overlook that.

Mrs. Lou. What is it?

Mrs. Mech. His age.

Mrs. Lov. Age! how, how?

Mrs. Mech. Why he is rather under your mark, I am afraid; not above twenty at maft.

Mrs. Lov. Well, well, fo he anfwers in every thing elfe, we muft overlook that; for, Mrs. Mechlin, there is no expecting perfection below. Mrs. Mech. True, ma'am.

Mrs. Lou. And where is he?

Mrs. Mech. I look for him every minute; if you will but ftep into the drawing-room, I have given him fuch a picture, that I am fure he is full as impatient as you.`

Mrs. Lov. My dear woman, you are fo kind and obliging: but, Mrs. Mechlin, how do I look ? don't flatter me, do you think my figure will ftrike him?

Mrs. Mech. Or he must be blind.

Mrs. Lov. You may juft hint black don't become me, that I am a little paler of late; the lofs of a hufband one loves will caufe an alteration, you know.

Mrs. Mech. True; oh, he will make an allowance for that.

Mrs. Lov. But things will come round in a trice, [Exit Mrs. Loveit.

roy Enter SIMON.

Sim. Madam, mifs Dolly is dizened out, and

every thing ready.

Mrs.

Mrs. Mech. Let her wait for the Commiffary here, I will introduce him the inftant he is dreffed. [Exit Mrs. Mechlin.

Sim. Mifs Dolly, you may come in, your aunt will be here in an inftant.

Enter DOLLY and JENNY.

Dolly. Hufh, Simon, hufh, to your post. Sim. I am gone [Exit Simon. Dolly. Well, Jenny, and have I the true quality air?

Jen. As perfectly, ma'am, as if you had been bred to the bufinefs; and for figure, I defy the first of them all. For my part, I think Mr. Fungus very well off; when the fecret comes out, I don't fee what right he has to be angry.

Dolly. Oh, when once he is noofed, let him. ftruggle as much as he will, the cord will be drawn only the tighter.

Jen. Ay, ay, we may truft to your management. I hope, mifs, I fhall have the honour to follow your fortunes; there will be no bearing this house, when once you have left it.

Dolly. No, Jenny, it would be barbarous to rob my aunt of so useful a fecond; befides, for mistrefs and maid, we rather know one another a little too well.

Jen. Indeed! but here comes Mr. Fungus; remember diftance and dignity.

Dolly. I warrant you, wench.

Jen. So, I fee what I have to hope. Our young filly feems to be fecure of her match; but I may joftle her the wrong fide the poft: we will have a trial, however; but I muft fee and find out the brother.

Enter Z. FUNGUS and Mrs. MECHLIN.

Fun. Yes, Scarlet is vaftly becoming, and takes very much with the ladies; quite proper too, as I have been in the army. d

Mrs. Mech. Stay where you are till you are announced to the lady. Mr. Fungus begs leave ta throw himself at your ladyfhip's feet.

Dolly. The mon may dra nigh.

Mrs. Mech. Approach.

Fun. One, two, three, ha! Will that do? f Mrs. Mech. Pretty well.

Fun. May I begin to make love?

Mrs. Mech. When you will.

1 Fun. Now ftand my friend, Mr. Gruel. But fhe has fuch a deal of dignity that the dashes me quite,

Mrs. Mech. Courage.

Fun. Here, hold the paper to prompt me in cafe I fhould ftumble-Madam, or, May it pleafe your ladyfhip, When I preponderate the grandeur of your high ginnyalogy, and the mercantile meannefs of my dingy defcent; when I confider that your ancestors, like admiral Anson, failed all round the world in the ark; and that it is a matter of doubt, whether I ever had any forefathers or no; I totter, I tremble, at the thoughts of my towering ambition - Ah-a, is not Phaeton

next?

་

Mrs. Mech. Hey!-[Looking at the paper.]—, No, Luna'.

Fun. Right-ambition-dignity how debased, diftance how great; it is as if the link fhould demand an alliance with Luna; or the bufhy-bramble court the boughs of the ftately Scotch fir; it is as if What's next?

Mrs.