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now.

Fun. Ay, ay, but you'll follow; for I shan't know what to say to her when we are alone.

[Exit Fungus. Mrs, Mesh. I will send you, fir, your spouse in an instant: the gentlewoman is a widow, so you may throw in what raptures you please.

Y. Lov. Never fear.- Exit Mrs. Mechlin.) And yet this scene is fo new, how to acquit myself-let me recollect—some piece of a play

“ Vouchsafe divine perfection"---No, that won't do for a dowager; it is too humble and whining. But see, the door opens, so I have no time for rehearsall have it" Clasp'd " in the folds of love I'll meet my doom, and act my”

Enter Mrs. LoveIT.
Mrs. Lov. Hah!
Y. Lov. By all that's monstrous, my mother!
Mrs. Lov. That rebel my son, as I live!

Y. Lov. The quotation was quite a-propos : had it been a little darker, I might have revived the story of @dipus.

Mrs. Lov. So, firrah, what makes you from

your studies?

Y. Lov. A small hint I received of your inclinațions brought me here, ma'am, in order to prevent, if possible, my father's fortune from going out of the family

'Mrs. Lov: Your father! how dare you disturb his dear ashes; you know well enough how his dear memory melts me; and that at his very name my heart is ready to break.

Y. Lov. Well said, my old matron of Ephesus.

Mrs. Lov. That is what you want, you disobedient unnatural monster ; but compleat, accomplish your cruelty : send me the same road your villanies forced your father to take.

your true

Enter Mrs. MECHLIN. Mrs. Mech. Hey-day! What the deuce have we here ; our old lady in tears!

Mrs. Lov: Disappointed a little ; that's all.

Mrs. Mech. Pray, ma'am, what can fion

Mrs. Lov. Lord bless me, Mrs. Mechlin, what a blunder you have made.

Mrs. Mech. A blunder! as how ?
Mrs. Lov. Do you know who you have brought

occa.

me ?

Mrs. Mech. Not perfe&ly.
Mrs. Lov. My own fon! that's all.
Mrs. Mech. Your fon!
Mrs. Lov. Ay, that rebellious, unnatural-

Mrs. Mech. Blunder indeed! But who could have thought it: why by your account, ma'am, I imagined your son was a child scarce out of his frocks.

Mrs. Lov. Here's company coming, so my re. putation will be blasted for ever.

Mrs. Mech. Never fear, leave the care on't to

me.

Enter FUNGUS and Dolly. Fun. What is the matter : you make such a noise, there is no such thing as minding the writings.

Mrs. Mech. This worthy lady an old friend of mine, not having set eyes on her son since the death of his father; and being apprised by me, that here she might meet with him, came with a

true maternal affection to give him a little wholsome advice.

Mrs. Lov. Well said, Mrs. Mechlin.

Mrs. Mech. Which the young man returned in a way so brutal and barbarous, that his poor mother—be comforted, ma'am; you had better repose on my bed.

Mrs. Lov. Any where to get out of his fight.
Mrs. Mech. Here, Jenny.
Mrs. Lov. Do you think you can procure me

another party.

Mrs. Mech. Never doubt it.
Mrs. Lov. Ugh, ugh

[Exit coughing. Mrs. Mech. Bear up a little, ma'am. ' [Exit.

Fun. Fye upon you, you have thrown the old gentlewoman into the stericks.

7. Lov. Sir!

Fun. You a man ! you are a scandal, a shame to your feet.

Enter Dr. CATGUT. Dr. Cat. Come, come, Mrs. Mechlin, are the couple prepared; the fiddles are tuned, the bows ready rofined, and the whole band—Oh, you, sir, are one party I reckon, but where is the—Ah, Dolly, what are you here, my dear.

Dolly. Soh!
Fun. Dolly ! Who the devil can this be ?

Dr. Cat. As nice and as spruce too, the bridemaid I warrant: why you look as blooming, you slut.

Fun. What can this be ? hark ye, fir!
Dr. Cat. Well, fir.

Fun. Don't you think you are rather too familiar with a lady of her rank and condition ? Dr. Cat. Rank and condition : what, Dolly ?

Fun.

Fun. Dolly ; what a plague possesses the man ; this is no Dolly, I tell you.

Dr Cat. No!

Fun. No this is lady Scacharissa Mackirkina croft.

Dr. Cat. Who?

Fun. Descended from the old, old, old earl of Glendowery.

Dr. Cat. What she, Dolly Mechlin ?

Fun. Dolly Devil, the man's out of his wits, I believe.

Enter Mrs. MECHLIN.

Oh, Mrs. Mechlin, will you set this matter to rights ? Mrs. Mech. How, Dr. Catgut !

Fun. The strangest fellow here has danced up ftairs, and has Dolly, Dolly, Dolly'd my lady; who the plague can he be ?

Dr. Cat. Oh, a-propos, Molly Mechlin, what is this the man that is to be married ? the marriage will never hold good; why he is more frantic and madder

Fun. Mad! John, fetch me the foils ; I'll carte and tierce you, you scoundrel.

Enter Isaac FUNGUS and JENNÝ. 1. Fun. Where's brother, it an't over; you be’n't married, I hope.

2. Fun. No,, I believe not; why, what is the

1. Fun. Pretty hands you are got into! Your servant, good madam ; what this is the person, I. warrant; ay how pretty the puppet is painted ; do you know who she is? Z. Fun. Who she is? without doubt.

1

1. Fun. No, you don't, brother Zac. only the spawn of that devil incarnate, dressed out as

Z. Fun. But hark ye, Isaac, are-don't be in a hurry—are you sure

1. Fun. Súre--the girl of the house, abhorring their scandalous project, has freely confessed the whole scheme. Jenny, stand forth, and answer boldly to what I shall ask : Is not this wench the woman's niece of the house?

Jen. I fancy she will hardly deny it.

1. Fun. And is not this mistrefs of yours a most profligate

Mrs. Mech. Come, come, Master Isaac, I will save

you the trouble, and cut this matter short inan instant :-well then, this girl, this Dolly, is my niece; and what then ?

Z. Fun. And ar'n't you afhamed ?
1. Lov. She ashamed! I would have told

you, but I could not get you to listen ; why she brought me here to marry my mother.

Z. Fun. Marry your mother! Lord have mercy on us, what a monster! to draw a young man in to be guilty of incense. But hark ye, brother Ifaac.

| They retire. Dr. Cat. Gads my life, what a sweet project I have helped to destroy ; but conje, Dolly, I'll piece thy broken fortunes again ; thou haft a good pretty voice, I'll teach thee a thrill and a shake, perch thee amongst the boughs at one of the gardens: and then as a mistress, which, as the world goes, is à much better station than that of a wife, not the proudest of them all-

Mrs. Mech. Mistress! No, no, we have not managed our matters so badly. Hark ye, Mr. Commissary 2. Fun. Well, what do

you

want ?

Mys.

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