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Mrs. Mech. Do you propose to consummate

your nuptials ?

Z. Fun. That's a pretty question, indeed.

Mrs. Mech. You have no objection then to paying the penalty, the contract here that Mr. Harpy has drawn.

2. Fun. The contract, hey, brother Isaac. 1. Fun. Let me see it.

Mrs. Mech. Soft you there, mý maker of candles, it is as well where it is; but you need not doubt of its goodness: I promise you the best advice has been taken.

Z. Fun. What a damned fiend, what a harpy!

Mrs. Mech. And why so, my good master Fungus ; is it because I have practised that trade by retail which you have carried on in the gross? What injury do I do the world ? I feed on their follies, 'tis true; and the game, the plunder, is fair ; but the fangs of you and your tribe,

A whole people have

felt, and

for ages will feel : To their candour and justice I make my appeal ; Tho' a poor humble scourge in a national cause, As I trust I deserve, I demand your applause.

[Exeunt omnes,

FINI S.

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PRINTED FOR W. LOWNDES, 38, BEDFORD STREIT,

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TO

THE RIGHT HONOURABLE

FRANCIS SEYMOUR CONWAY,

EARL OF HERTFORD,

LORD CHAMBERLAIN OF

HIS MAJESTY'S HOUSHOLD,

TO WHOSE

POLITENESS AND CANDOUR

THE AUTHOR

OWES EVERY ACKNOWLEDGMENT,

THIS COMEDY IS

GRATEFULLY DEDICATED

BY

HIS LORDSHIP's

MOST OBLIGED

AND

MOST OBEDIENT SERVANT,

SAM, FOOTE.

North End.

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