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Flaw. A respectable family from the county of Wilts, with a very good landed estate, I assure you.

Tom. On which, I suppose, the 'squire 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 coarse 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 sets out to inform

you in a most material point, as he thinks, which he for: fakes in an instant to follow some other circumstance, not material at all; this he foon quits for another, and soon for another, if you will give him attention. He puts me in mind of a pack of hounds in a hare-warren; by 'eternally Thifting the game, the pursuit never ends.

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

Tom. Unless I am mistaken, the son has an old acquaintance here in the house.

Flaw. Ay!

Tom. Miss Betsy Blossom, one of our ladies, who comes, I fancy, from their part of the world: the wishes to avoid the father and mother, but hints that she has good reason to remember the fon.

Flaw. Perhaps so.

Tom. Madam the mother 100, who is still a jolly brisk dame, seems determined to make the most of her time.

Flaw. How so?

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

Flaw. If they are at present alone, you will be so kind to announce me.

Tom.

Tom. Those stairs lead to their door; there is no occasion for a master of the ceremonies.

Exit Flaw. Miss ! Miss Betsy!

Enter Betly.
Well; have you encountered your Corydon ?

Betsy. No; I have carefully kept myself out of his way.

Tom. Then now throw yourself into it as soon as you can ; for, unless you prevent it, I can foresee a design to dispose of him in a very different

manner.

Betsy. 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 risque in overacting your part; treat him with a large dish of daggers, death, and despair.

Betsy. Never fear; I know how to proportion Tom. Are you prepared with the two verses I gave you.

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

Tom. Success attend you, my girl! (Exeunt.

my dose.

Scene changes to another room.

Mr. and Mrs. Aircastle discovered. Air. Well, well, mark the end on't ! this will turn out like all the rest of your projects.

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

had

you, before

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had convinced

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

Air. Convinced me ! Did not I tell you what parson 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 served his time with Luke Lancer of Guise's-chere was a talk about him and Nancy the daughterlhe afterwards married Will Whiclow, 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 she was lost, coming home, in the Channel the captain was taken up by a coafter from Rye, loaded with cheese

Mrs. dir. Mercy upon me, Mr. Aircastle, at what a rate you run on! Whar 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 pofseffed. Would you, I say, be contented to spring, grow, and decay, in the same country spot, like a cabo bage ?

Air. Yes; provided I left behind me fome promising sprouts.

Mrs. Air. What ! have you no ambitition ? no soul? could you be easy to stand stock-still, whilst your neighbours are advancing all round you ? Cottagers are become farmers ; farmers are made justices; and folks that travelled barefoot ro London, roll down again in their coaches and chariots; but still we stick!

Air. What then? For, as counsellor Crab said at the assizes-he came down to plead for Ned

Nick'em,

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Nick'em, who won at Bath a large sum of Lord Luckless the principal witness was Christopher Cogg'em--who was condemned to the pillory ; but saved by Phil Fang the attorneywho

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. dir. Well; and must 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 suppose he would rather stay at home, and marry Bet Blossom: A pretty al. liance 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 same stamp left behind ?

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

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

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

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

Air. Do you think so ? 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 feflions of the distemper-doctor Drybones recommended vinegar by way

of preven

tion--the doctor wore the strangest black wigs! --they were made by Ben Black'em, of Bow. street-I dined with him once, when he was church warden, upon two bastard children—we had a haunch of venifon the venison was overroafted, and stunk

but doctor Dewlap twisted down such gobs of fat

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

if
you

would but l.ften a bit. !

Mrs. Air. What did Type say ?

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

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

Air. Well, well--you know best, to be sure.

Mrs. Air. Here the advertisement is; I have penned it myself.

Air. You penned it ? Damn me, if the can spell a single syllable of the language!

Mrs. Air. Call the boy in ; and observe, 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. Aircastle, mind your own business, I beg! would you have him drefled like yourself, in a suit of cloaths made thirty years ag', when you were theriff for the county --Toby, stand forth! “Wanted for a

young

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