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Jen. Not at all given to lying, but like other tradesfolks, in the way of her business.

Sim. Very well.

Jen. Very well! then pray, fir, what would you infinuate? Look you, Mr. Simon, don't go to caft reflections upon us; don't think to blaft the reputation of our

Sim. Hark ye, Jenny, are you ferious?
Jen. Serious! Äy, marry am I.

Sim. The devil you are!

Fen. Upon my word, Mr. Simon, you should not give your tongue fuch a licence; let me tell you, thefe airs don't become you at all.

Sim. Heyday! why where the deuce have I got, fure I have miftaken the houfe; is not this Mrs. Mechlin's?

Jen. That's pretty well known.

Sim. The commodious, convenient Mrs. Mechlin, at the fign of the Star, in the parish of St. Paul's, Covent-Garden ?

Jen. Bravo.

Sim. That commercial caterpillar ?

Jen. I know it.

Sim. That murderer of manufactures?

Jen. Doubtless.

Sim. That walking warehouse?

Jen. Granted.

Sim. That carries about a greater cargo of contraband goods under her petticoats than a Calais cutter?

Jen. Very well.

Sim. That engroffer and feducer of virgins?

Jen. Keep it up, Mafter Simon.

Sim. That foreftaller of Bagnios?

Jen. Incomparable fine.

A 3

Sim

Sim. That canting, cozening, money-lending, match-making, pawnbroking- [Loud knocking. Jen. Mighty well, fir: here comes my mistress, fhe fhall thank you for the pretty picture you have been pleafed to draw.

Sim. Nay, but dear Jenny

Jen. She fhall be told how highly she stands in your favour.

Sim. But my fweet girl

[Knock again. Jen. Let me go, Mr. Simon, don't you hear? Sim. And can you have the heart to ruin me at once!

Jen. Hands off.

Sim. A peace, a peace, my dear Mrs. Jane, and dictate the articles.

Enter Mrs. MECHLIN (followed by a hackney coachman, with feveral bundles) in a capuchin, a bonnet, and her clothes pinned up.

Mrs. Mech. So, huffy, what muft I stay all day in the streets? who have we here! the devil's in the wenches, I think-one of your fellows I fuppofe Oh, is it you! how fares it, Simon?

Jen. Madam, you fhould not have waited a minute, but Mr. Simon

Sim. Hufh, hufh! you barbarous jade

Jen. Knowing your knock, and eager to open the door, flew up ftairs, fell over the landingplace, and quite barr'd up the way.

Sim. Yes, and I am afraid I have put out my ankle. Thanks, Jenny; you fhall be no lofer, you flut.

Mrs. Mech. Poor Simon.-Oh, Lord have mercy upon me, what a round have 1 taken!

Is the wench petrified; why don't you reach me a chair, don't you fee I'm tired to death? Jen.

Jen. Indeed, ma'am, you'll kill yourself.

Sim. Upon my word, ma'am Mechlin, you fhould take a little care of yourfelf; indeed you labour too hard.

Mrs. Mech. Ay, Simon, and for little or nothing only viduals and cloaths, more coft than worship. Why does not the wench take the things from the fellow? Well, what's your fare? Coachm. Miftrefs, it's honeftly worth half a

crown.

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Mrs. Mech. Give him a couple of fhillings and fend him away.

Coachm. I hope you'll tip me the tefter to drink?

Mrs. Mech, Them there fellows are never contented; drink! ftand farther off; why you fmell already as ftrong as a beer-barrel.

Coachm. Miftrefs, that's because I have already been drinking.

Mrs. Mech. And are not you afhamed, you fot, to be eternally guzzling? You had better buy you fome cloaths.

Coachm. No, miftrefs, my honour won't let me do that.

Mrs. Mech. Your honour! and pray how does that hinder you?

Coachm. Why, when a good gentlewoman like you, cries, Here, coachman, here's fomething to drink.

Mrs. Mech. Well!

Coachm. Would it be honour in me to lay it out in any thing elfe? No, mistress, my confcience won't let me, because why, it's the will of the donor, you know.

Mrs. Mech. Did you ever hear fuch a blockhead?

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Coachm. No, no, mistress; tho' I am a poor man, I won't forfeit my honour; my cattle, tho'f I love 'em, poor beafteffes, are not more dearer to me than that.

Mrs. Mech. Yes, you and your horfes give pretty ftrong proofs of your love and your honour; for you have no cloaths on your back, and they have no flefh. Well, Jenny, give him the fix-pence, there, there, lay it out as you will.

Coachm. It will be to your health, mistress; it fhall melt at the Mews, before I go home; I fhall be careful to clear my conscience.

Mrs. Mech. I don't doubt it. Coachm. You neednot. Miftrefs, your fervant. [Exit Coachman. Mrs. Mech. Has there been any body here, Jenny?

Jen. The gentleman, ma'am, about the Gloucefterfhire living.

Mrs. Mech. He was, Oh oh! What I fuppofe his ftomach's come down. Does he like the incumbrance? will he marry the party?

Jen. Why that article feems to go a little againft him.

Mrs. Mech. Does it fo? then let him retire to his Cumberland curacy: that's a fine keen air, it will foon give him an appetite. He'll ftick to his honour too, till his caffock is wore to a rag.

Jen. Why, indeed, ma'am, it seems pretty rufty already.

Mrs. Mech. Devilish fqueamish, I think; a good fat living, and a fine woman into the bargain! You told him a friend of the lady's will take the child off her hands?

Jen. Yes, madam.

Mrs. Mech. So that the affair will be a fecret to

all

all but himself.

But he muft quickly refolve, for next week his wife's month will be up. Jen. He promifed to call about four.

Mrs. Mech. But don't let him think we are at a lofs for a husband; there is to my knowledge a merchant's clerk in the city, a comely young man, and comes of good friends, that will take her with but a fmall place in the custom-house.

Jen. He fhall know it.

Mrs. Mech. Ay, and tell him, that the party's party has intereft enough to obtain it whenever he will. And then the bridegroom may put the purchase-money too of that fame prefentation into his pocket.

Jen. Truly, ma'am, I fhould think this would prove the best match for the lady.

Mrs. Mech. Who doubts it?-Here, Jenny, carry these things above ftairs. Take care of the aigrette, leave the watch upon the table, and be fure you don't mislay the pearl necklace; the lady goes to Mrs. Cornelly's to-night; and, if she has any luck, fhe will be fure to redeem it to-morrow. [Exit Jenny.

Sim. What a world of affairs! it is a wonder, madam, how you are able to remember them all.

Mrs. Mech. Trifles, mere trifles, mafter Simon. -But I have a great affair in hand-Such an affair, if well managed, it will be the making of us all.

Sim. If I, ma'am, can be of the leaft ufeMrs. Mech. Of the higheft! there is no doing without you. You know the great

Enter JENNY.

Jen. I have put the things where you ordered,

ma'am.

Mrs.

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