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Button. For all the world like a magpie; he Ateals for the mere pleasure of hiding.

Rack. Well observed, little Bill.

Button. Why, he wanted to bring me into his plot: yes'; he made proposals for me to marry Miss after his purpose was served

Sir Chr. How ! Button. But he was out in his man! let him give his cast cloaths to his coachman; Billy Button can afford a new suit of his own.

Rack. I don't doubt it at all.

Button. Fellow! I am almost resolved never to set another stitch for him as long as I live.

Sir Chr. Right, Button, right. But where is Miss Kitty?-Come hither, my chicken! Faith, I am heartily glad you are rid of this scoundrel and if such a crippled old fellow as I was worthy your notice-But, hold, Kate! there is another chap I must guard you against

Miss Lin. Another, Sir! who?
Sir Chr. Why, this gentleman.
Rack. Me?

Sir Chr. Ay, you: Come, come, major, don't think you can impose upon a cunning old sportsman like me.

Rack. Upon my soul, Sir Christopher, you make me blush.

Sir Chr. Oh, you are devilish modest, I know! But to come to the trial at once. I have some reason to believe, major, you are fond of this girl; and, that her want of fortune mayn't plead your excuse, I don't think I can better begin my plan of reforming than by a compliment paid to her virtue: Then, take her, and with her two thousand guineas in hand. Mrs Lin. How, Sir!

Sir Chr.

Sir Cbr. And expect another good spell, when Monsieur le Fevre fets me free from the gout.

Button. Please your worship, I'll accept her with half.

L Cath. Gi me leave, Sir Christopher, to throw in the wedow's mite on the happy occafion: The bride's garment, and her dinner, shall be furnished by me.

Sir Chr. Cock-a-leeky soup!

L. Cath. Sheep's head finged, and haggies in plenty.

Sir Ghr. Well said, Lady Catharine,

Miss Lin. How, Sir, shall I acknowledge this goodness?

Sir Chr. By saying nothing about it.-Well, Sir! we wait your answer.

Rack. I think the lady might first be consulted: I should be sorry a fresh prosecution should follow so fast on the heels of the

Sir Chr. Come, come, no trifling! your resolution at once.

Rack. I receive, then, your offer with pleasure. Sir Chr. Mifs !

Miss Lin. Sir, there is a little account to be first settled between this gentlemanandan old unhappy acquaintance of mine.

Sir Chr. Who?

Miss Lin. The major can guess--the unhappy Mifs Prim.

Sir Chr. You see, major, your old fins are rising in judgment.

Rack. I believe, madam, I can satisfy that.

Miss Lin. I sha'n't give you the trouble.But first, let me return you all my most grateful thanks for your kind intentions towards me: I know your generous motives, and feel their value, I hope, as I ought; but might I be permitted to chuse, I beg to remain in the station I am: My little talents have hitherto received the publick protection, nor, whilft I continue to deserve, am I the least afraid of losing, my patrons.

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ONFIDING in the justice of the place,

To you The Maid of Bath fubmits her case:
Wronged, and defeated of three several spouses,
She lays her damages for nine full houses.
Well, Sirs, you've heard the parties, pro and con.
Do the pro's carry it? Thall the suit go on?
Speak hearts for us! to them we make appeal :
Tell us not what you think, but what you feel :
Ask us, Why bring a private cause to view ?
We answer with a figh-because 'is true:
For tho'invention is our Poet's trade,
Here he but copies parts which others played.
For on a ramble, late one starry night,
With Asmodeo, his familiar sprite,
High on the wing, by his conductor's fide,
This guilty scene the indignant Bard descried
Soaring in air, his ready pen he drew,
And dath'd the glowing satire as he flew :
For in these rank luxuriant times, there needs
Some strong bold hand to pluck the noxious weeds.
The rake of sixty, crippled hand and knee,
Who fins on claret, and repents on tea;
The witless macaroni, who purloins
A few cant words, which fome pert gambler coins ;

The ondomeftick Amazonian dame,
Staunch to her coterie, in despite of Fame;
These are the victims of our Poet's plan :
But most, that monsterman unfeeling man.
When such a foe provokes him to the fight,
Tho' maim'd, out fallies the puissant knight;
Like Withrington, maintains the glorious Atrife,
And only yields his laurels--- with his life.

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