Serj. I'll pledge that toast in a bumper. [Drinks.] -I'll take Charlotte's hint, and see if I can't draw the truth out of the knight by a bottle. [Aside.] Sir Luke. I'll try if I can't fuddle the fool, and get rid of him that way. [Aside.] Serj. I could not have thought it: why where the deuce did you pick up all this? But by the bye, pray who was the cryer?

Sir Luke. Did you not know her? Mrs. Simper, your neighbour.

Serj. A pestilent jade! she's a good one I war

rant.

Sir Luke. She is thought very pretty; what say you to a glass in her favour?

Serj. By all means in the world! [they drink.] and that spark the clerk?

Sir Luke. Colonel Secret, a friend to the lady you toasted.

Serj.

A friend! oh, ay,-I understand youcome, let us join 'em together

Sir Luke. Alons. [drink.] Egad, I shall be caught in my own trap, I begin to feel myself fluster'd already. [Aside.] Serj. Delicate white wine, indeed! I like it better every glass. [Sings.]

Drink and drive care away,

Drink and be merry.

Sir Luke. True, my dear Serjeant-this is the searcher of secrets--the only key to the heart. Serj. Right, boy, in vino veritas.

Sir Luke. No deceit in a bumper. [sings.] Drink and be merry.

Serj. Merry! damme, what a sweet fellow you are, what would I give to be half so jolly and gay.

Sir Luke. [Appearing very drunk.] Would you? And yet do you know, Serjeant, that at this very juncture of time, there is a thing has popp'd into my head, that distresses me very much.

Serj. Then drive it out with a bumper. [drinks] Well, how is it now?

all.

Sir Luke.

Now the matter is not mended at

Serj. What the deuce is the business that so sticks in your stomach.

Sir Luke. You know my dear Serjeant, I am your friend, your real, your affectionate friend. Serj. I believe it, sir Luke.

Sir Luke. And yet, for these six months, I have conceal'd a secret, that touches you near, very

near.

Serj. Me near! That was wrong, very wrong; friends should have all things in common.

Sir Luke. That's what I said to myself; sir Luke, says I, open your heart to your friend; but to tell you the truth, what sealed up my lips, was the fear that this secret should make you sulky and sad.

Serj.

Me sulky and sad! ha! ha! how little you know of me.

Sir Luke. Swear then that you won't be uneasy. Serj. Well, I do.

Sir Luke. [Rising.] Soft! let us see that all's safe;—well, Mr. Serjeant, do you know that you are-a fine, honest fellow?

Serj. Is that a secret?

Sir Luke. Be quiet; a damn'd honest fellowbut as to your wife

Serj. Well?

Sir Luke. She is an infamous strum

Serj. How it is a falshood, sir Luke, my wife is as virtuous a wom

Sir Luke. Oh! if you are angry, your servantI thought that the news would have pleased you -for after all, what is the business to me? What do I get by the bargain?

Serj. That's true; but then would it not vex any man to hear his wife abused in such a

Sir Luke. Not if it's true, you old fool. Serj. I say it is false: prove it; give me that satisfaction, sir Luke.

Sir Luke. Oh! you shall have that pleasure directly; and to come at once to the point-you remember last new year's day how severely it froze. Serj. I do recollect.

Sir Luke. Very well; we were all invited to dine at alderman Inkle's..

Serj. Very right.

Sir Luke. Well, and I did not go: Mrs. Circuit made me dine here in this house-was it my fault?

Serj. No, no, sir Luke, no.

Sir Luke. At table says she-she said, I was the picture of you-was it my fault?

Serj. Well, and suppose you are; where's the mischief in that?

Sir Luke. Be quiet I tell you ;-then throwing her arms round my neck, it is my husband himself I embrace, it is my little old man that I kiss! -for she has a prodigious affection for you at bottom-was it my fault?

Serj. But what is there serious in this, dost think I mind such trifles?

Sir Luke. Hold your tongue, you fool, for a moment-then throwing her Teresa aside upon my soul she is prodigious fine every where herewas it my fault?

Serj. My fault! my fault! I see no fault in all

this.

Sir Luke. [pretending to cry.] No! why then my dear friend, do you know that I was so unworthy, so profligate, so abandon'd-as to-[rises] say no more, the business is done.

Serj. Ay, indeed!

Sir Luke.

Oh! fact! there is not the least doubt of the matter; that is no hear-say, dy'e see,

I was by all the while.

Serj. Very pretty! very fine upon my word.

Sir Luke. Was it my fault? What could I do? Put yourself in my place; I must have been more, or less, than man to resist.

Serj. Your fault, sir Luke, no, no-you did but your duty-but as to my wife

Sir Luke. She's a diabolical fiend, I shall hate her as long as I live.

Serj. And I too.

Sir Luke. Only think of her forcing me, as it were with a sword at my breast, to play such a trick; you, my dear Serjeant, the best, truest friend I have in the world. [Weeps.] Serj. [ [Weeping.] Dry your tears, dear sir Luke; I shall ever gratefully acknowledge your confidence in trusting me with the secret-[taking him forward.] But I think it might be as well kept from the fest of the world.

Sir Luke. My dear soul, do you think I would tell it to any mortal but you? No, no, not to my brother himself-You are the only man upon earth I would trust.

Serj. Ten thousand thanks, my dear friend! sure there is no comfort, no balsam, in life like a friend-but I shall make madam Circuit remember

Sir Luke. We neither of us ought to forgive her-were I you, I'd get a divorce.

Serj. So I will-provided you will promise not to marry her after.

Sir Luke. Me! I'll sooner be torn to pieces by wild horses-no, my dear friend, we will retire to my house in the country together, and there, in innocence and simplicity, feeding our pigs and pigeons, like Pyramus and Thisbe, we will live paragons of the age.

Serj. Agreed; we will be the whole earth to each other; for, as Shakespeare says,

"The friend thou hast and his adoption tried Clasp to thy soul, and quit the world beside."

Sir Luke. Zounds, here comes madam Serjeant herself.

Enter Mrs. Circuit.

Mrs. Circ. So, gentlemen! a sweet tète-à-tète you have been holding-but I know it all, not a syllable you have said has been lost.

Sir Luke. Then, I hope you have been well entertained, Mrs. Circuit.

Mrs. Circ. And you, you mean-spirited, dastardly wretch, to lend a patient ear to his infamous improbable tales, equally shameful both to you

and me.

Serj. How madam! have you the assuranceMrs. Circ. Yes, sir, the assurance that innocence gives; there is not a soul, I thank heaven, that can lay the least soil, the least spot, on my virtue ; nor is there a man on earth but yourself would have sat and silently listen'd to the fictions and fables of this intemperate sot.

Serj. Why to be sure the knight is overtaken a little; very near drunk.

Sir Luke. I hope he believes it is a lie. [Aside. Mrs. Circ. Do me instant justice on this defamer, this liar, or never more expect to see me in your house.

Serj. I begin to find out the fraud, this is all a flam of the knight's.

Mrs. Circ. I'll drive this instant to a friend of mine in the Commons, and see if no satisfaction can be had, for blasting the reputation of a woman like me and hark you, sir, what inducement, what devil could prompt?

Serj. Ay; what devil could prompt-
Sir Luke, Heyday!

Mrs. Circ. But I guess at your motive; you flatter'd yourself, that by marrying Charlotte, and discarding of me, you should engross all his affec

tions and

Serj. True, true-stop, my life, let me come at