Flaw. A refpectable family from the county of Wilts, with a very good landed eftate, I affure you. Tom. On which, I suppose, the 'fquire condefcends to kill his own meat; and madam, his lady, to dress it. Then it is one eternal wrangle between them, conducted in a language pretty near as coarfe as their carter's.

Flaw. They have been bred in a state of Nature, Tom.

Tom. The husband, for once or twice, is entertaining enough: He fets out to inform you in at most material point, as he thinks, which he forfakes in an inftant to follow fome other circumstance, not material at all; this he foon quits for another, and foon for another, if you will give him attention. He puts me in mind of a pack of hounds in a hare-warren; by eternally shifting the game, the purfuit never ends.

Flaw. You have him, Tom: Mr. Aircastle is, I own, very prolix and digreffive.

Tom. Unless I am miftaken, the fon has an old acquaintance here in the house.

Flaw. Ay!

Tom. Mifs Betfy Bloffom, one of our ladies, who comes, I fancy, from their part of the world: fhe wishes to avoid the father and mother, but hints that she has good reason to remember the fon. Flaw. Perhaps fo.

Tom. Madam the mother too, who is ftill a jolly brifk dame, feems determined to make the moft of her time.

Flaw. How fo?

Tom. She has difpatched, this morning, a billet to Col. Gorget, an old master of mine.

Flaw. If they are at prefent alone, you will be fo kind to announce me.

Tom.

. Tom. Thofe ftairs lead to their door; there is no occafion for a mafter of the ceremonies.

Mifs! Mifs Betfy!

Enter Betfy.

Exit Flaw.

Well; have you encountered your Corydon? Betfy. No; I have carefully kept myself out of his way.

Tom. Then now throw yourself into it as foon as you can; for, unless you prevent it, I can forefee a defign to difpofe of him in a very different

manner.

Betfy. In the interim, I could wish to have him all to myself; no danger of an interruption from the father and mother.

Tom. Watch then when they are out of the way. But remember you run no rifque in overacting your part; treat him with a large difh of daggers, death, and defpair.

Betfy. Never fear; I know how to proportion my dofe.

Tom. Are you prepared with the two verfes I gave you.

Betfy. Yes, yes; and I warrant will thunder them with good effect in his ears.

Tom. Succefs attend you, my girl!

Scene changes to another room.

Mr. and Mrs. Aircaftle difcovered.

[Exeunt.

Air. Well, well, mark the end on't! this will turn out like all the reft of your projects.

Mrs. Air. Blefs me, Mr. Aircastle, will you never give over your grumblings? I thought I

had

had convinced you, before you left home, that London was the only spot for people to thrive in.

Air. Convinced me! Did not I tell you what parfon Prunello said-I remember Mrs. Lightfoot was by-she had been brought to bed, that day was a month, of a very fine boy-a bad birth; for doctor Seeton, who ferved his time with Luke Lancet of Guife's-there was a talk about him and Nancy the daughter-she afterwards married Will Whitlow, another apprentice, who had great expectations from an old uncle in the Grenades; but he left all to a diftant relation, Kit Cable, a midshipman aboard the Torbay fhe was loft, coming home, in the Channel-the captain was taken up by a coafter from Rye, loaded with cheese

Mrs. Air. Mercy upon me, Mr. Aircastle, at what a rate you run on! What has all this to do with our coming to London?

Air. Why, I was going to tell you; but you will never have patience!

Mrs. Air. More than ever woman poffeffed. Would you, I fay, be contented to spring, grow, and decay, in the fame country fpot, like a cab bage?

Air. Yes; provided I left behind me fome promifing fprouts.

Mrs. Air. What! have you no ambițition? no foul? could you be easy to stand stock-ftill, whilft your neighbours are advancing all round you? Cottagers are become farmers; farmers are made juftices; and folks that travelled barefoot ro London, roll down again in their coaches and. chariots; but ftill we ftick!

Air. What then? For, as counfellor Crab faid at the affizes-he came down to plead for Ned Nick'em,

Nick'em, who won at Bath a large fum of Lord Lucklefs the principal witness was Chriftopher Cogg'em-who was condemned to the pillory; but faved by Phil Fang the attorney

who

Mrs. Air. What matters what any body faid? but you are always flying from the

Air. Why, what a pox would the woman be at?-Ha'n't I lopped off a handsome limb of my land to put your hopeful project in practice? Mrs. Air. Well; and muft not every body who ventures in the lottery of life first pay for his ticket?

Air. I believe Toby will hardly thank me for going into the wheel.

Mrs. Air. No; I fuppofe he would rather ftay at home, and marry Bet Bloffom: A pretty alliance he had like to have given us !

Air. But you know I drove the girl out of the parish.

Mrs. Air. Are there none of the fame ftamp left behind?

Air. Well, well, here we are, and what's to be done?

Mrs. Air. Our first business is to get Toby dif pofed of; upon your head, we will confult Mr. Flaw; as to my affairs, leave me to myself.

Air. And as for Toby, the beft method, you think, will be

Mrs. Air. To advertise the boy, to be sure.

Air. Do you think fo? Advertise Toby! I was once told by Tom Type, a printer of one of the papers-he was tried for a libel before Sir Philip Flogg'em, at the Old Bailey-two of the jury died that feffions of the diftemper-doctor Drybones recommended vinegar by way of preven

tion

tion-the doctor wore the ftrangeft black wigs ! -they were made by Ben Block'em, of Bowftreet-I dined with him once, when he was church warden, upon two bastard children-we had a haunch of venifon-the venifon was overroafted, and ftunk-but doctor Dewlap twifted down fuch gobs of fat

Mrs. Air. But what is all this to the purpose ?
Air. I was going to tell you, if you would but

1.ften a bit!

Mrs. Air. What did Type say?

Air. That he never knew any good come of that kind of

Mrs. Air. Then Type was a fool! don't we fee by the news, that there is no other way of making matches in London?

Air. Well, well you know beft, to be fure. Mrs. Air. Here the advertisement is; I have penned it myself.

Air. You penned it? Damn me, if she can fpell a fingle fyllable of the language!

Mrs. Air. Call the boy in; and obferve, Mr. Aircastle, if he corresponds with the marks. Air. Toby! [Calling

Enter Toby.

Lord, Mrs. Aircastle, how you have altered the boy! why, his face is as long as a fiddle-stick ! and then he has a bundle at his back, as big as a child!

Mrs. Air. Pray, Mr. Aircaftle, mind your own business, I beg! would you have him dreffed like yourself, in a fuit of cloaths made thirty years ago, when you were sheriff for the county-Toby, ftand forth! "Wanted for a

<< young