your fervant. You'll think about it, and let's know your mind when I come back. Cod, I don't care whether the likes me or no. I don't like her half fo well as Mally Pengroufe.Well, your fervant, Mifs Suck. [Exit Tim. Jenny. Was there ever such an unlick'd cub? I don't think his fortune a fufficient reward for facrificing my perfon to fuch a booby; but as he has money enough, it fhall go hard but I pleafe myfelf: I fear I was a little. too backward with my gentleman; but, however, a favourable answer to his laft queftion will foon fettle mat ters. Enter Jenkins. Jenk. Now, Jenny, what news, child? are things fix'd; are you ready for the nuptial knot? Jenny. We are in a fair way. I thought to have quicken'd my fwain's advances by a little affected coynefs, but the trap would not take:' I expect him back in a minute, and then leave it to my manage ment. Jenk. Where is he gone? Jenny. The drawer called him to fome woman. Jenk. Woman! he neither knows nor is known by any body here. What can this mean? no counterplot? but, pox, that's impoffible! you have not blabb'd, Jenny? Jenny. My intereft would prevent me. Jenk. Upon that fecurity any woman may, I think, be trufted. I muft after him tho'. [Exit. Jenny. I knew the time when Jenkins would not have left me fo hastily: 'tis odd that the fame caufe that increases the paffion in one fex, fhould deftroy it in the other; the reason is above my reach, but the fact • I am a fevere witness of.' Heigh ho! Enter Hartop, Sir Penurious, and Sir Gregory Sir Pen. And fo, you knight, fays he-you know, knight, what low dogs the minifters were then; how does your pot—a pot, you, that they put over the fire to boil broth and meat in-you have seen a pot, you knight -how does your pot boil these troublefome times? hey you! Ecod, my lord, fays he, I don't know, I feldom go into my kitchen. A kitchen, you knight, is a place where where they drefs victuals, roaft and boil, and fo forth: Ecod, fays he, I feldom go into the kitchen-But I fuppofe, the fcum is uppermoft ftill! Hey, you knight! what, ecod, hey! But where's your fon, Sir Gregory? Sir Greg. Good now, good now, where's Tim, Miss Sukey? lack-a-day, what's become of Tim? Jenny. Gone out a tiny bit, he'll be here presently. Sir Greg. Wonderful! good now, good now! Well, and how, Mifs Sukey-has Tim? has he? Well, and what, you have—wonderful? Enter a Servant with a Letter. Serv. Sir, I was commanded to deliver this into your own hands, by Mr Jenkins. Sir Pen. Hey, you! what, a letter? ecod fo! Any anfwer, you? hey! Serv. None, Sir. Sir Greg. Lack-a-day, Sir Penurious is bufy! Well, Mifs, and did Tim do the thing? did he please you? Come now, tell us the whole ftory: wonderful! rare news for dame Winny! ha, Tim's father's own fon! But come, whisper-ay. Sir Pen." I have only time to tell you that your "fcheme is blafted: this inftant I encounter'd Mrs Pe❝nelope Trifle, with her niece; they will foon be with 86 you.”—So then, all's over; but let's fee what expedition will doWell, you knight, hey! what, have they fettled? Is the girl willing? Sir Greg. Good now, good now! right as my leg!: ah, Tim, little did I think-But, lack-a-day, I wonder where the boy is! let's feek him. Sir Pen. Agreed, you knight; hey, come. Enter Jenkins. Sir Greg. Lack-a-day, here's Mr Jenkins. Good now, have you feen Tim? Jenk. Your curiofity fhall be immediately fatisfied; but I muft firft have a word with Sir Penurious. Sir Pen. Well you! what, hey! any news, Dick ? Jenk. Better than you could hope; your rival is difpofed of. Har. Difpos'd of! how? Jenk. Marry'd by this time, you rogue! The woman that wanted him was no other than Mally Pengroufe, grouse, who trudg'd it up all the way after him, as Tim fays I have recommended them to my chaplain, and -before this the business is done. Har. Braviffimo! you rogue! but how shall I get off with the knight? Fenk. Nay, that must be your contrivance. Har. I have it-Suppose I was to own the whole defign to Sir Gregory, as our plan has not fucceeded with his fon ; and, as he seems to have a tolerable regard for me, it is poffible he may affift my fcheme on Sir Penu, rious. Jenk. 'Tis worth trying, however: but he comes. Sir Greg. Well, good now, Mr Jenkins, have you feen Tim? I can't think where the boy Har. 'Tis now time, Sir Gregory, to fet you clear with respect to fome particulars: I am now no longer Sir Penurious Trifle, but your friend and relation Jack Hartop. Sir Greg. Wonderful! good now, good now, coufin Hartop! as I am a living man-hey-Well, but, good now! how, Mr Jenkins, hey? Jenk. The ftory, Sir Gregory, is rather too long to tell you now but in two words, My friend Hartop has very long had a paffion for Mifs Trifle, and was apprehenfive your fon's application would deftroy his views; which, in order to defeat, he affumed the character of Sir Penurious but he is fo captivated with your integrity and friendship, that he rather chooses to forego his own intereft, than interrupt the happiness of your fon. Sir Greg. Wonderful! good now, good now, that's kind! who could have thought it, coufin Hartop? lacka-day! Well, but where's Tim? hey, good now! and who are you? Jenk. This, Sir, is Jenny, the handmaid of the house. Sir Greg. Wonderful! a peftilent huffey! Ah, Hartop, you are a wag! a pize of your pots, and your royal oaks! lack-a-day, who could ha thought—ah,` Jenny, you're a-But where's Tim? Enter Sir Gregory's Servant. Serv. Wounds, mafter! never ftir alive if Mafter Tim has na gone and marry'd Mally Pengrouse. Sir Greg. Wonderful! how, firrah, how! good now, good now, coufin Hartop-Mally Pengroufe! who the dickens is fhe? Serv. Malter Timothy's fweetheart in Cornwal. Sir Greg. And how came she here? lack-a-day, coufin ! Serv. She tramp'd it up after mafter. Master Timothy is without, and fays as how they be marry'd: I wanted him to come in, but he's afraid you'll knock'n down. Sir Greg. Knock'n down! Good now, let me come at him! I'll-ah, rogue! Lack-a-day, coufin, fhew me where he is! I'll Har. Moderate your fury, good Sir Gregory; confider, it is an evil without a remedy. Sir Greg. But what will dame Winny fay? Good now, fuch a difparagement to-and then, what will Sir Penurious fay? lack-a-day, I am almost distracted! And you, you łubberly dog! why did not you-I'll—ah, coufin Hartop, coufin Hartop! good now, good now! Har. Dear Sir, be calm; this is no fuch furprising matter: we have fuch inftances in the newspapers every day. Sir Greg. Good now! no, coufin, no. Har. Indeed, Sir Gregory, it was but last week that Lord Lofty's fon marry'd his mother's maid; and Lady Betty Forward run away, not a month ago, with her uncle's butler. Sir Greg. Wonderful! what, in the news? Good now, that's fome comfort, however; but what will Sir Penurious Har. As to that, leave him to me; I have a project to prevent his laughing at you, I'll warrant. Sir Greg. But how? how, coufin Hartop, how? Har. And would you, in return, serve me in a circumftance that can't injure yourself? Sir Greg. Good now, to be fure, coufin. Har. Will you, then, permit me to affume the figure of your fon, and fo pay my addreffes to Mifs Trifle? I was pretty happy in the imitation of her father; and, if I could impofe upon your fagacity, I fhall find less difficulty with your brother knight. Sir Greg. Good now! Tim! ah, you could not touch Tim. Har. I warrant you. But, fee, the young gentleman. Enter Tim. Sir Greg. Ah, Tim, Tim! little did 1-Good now, good now! Tim. I could not help it now, fath and fole: but if you'll forgive me this time, I'll never do so no more. Sir Greg. Well, well, if thee can't forgive thyself, I can forgive thee; but thank my coufin Hartop. Har. Oh, Sir! if you are fatisfy'd, I am rewarded. I wish you joy; joy to you, child. Sir Greg. Thanks, coufin Hartop. Enter Waiter. Wait. Sir, Mrs Penelope Trifle, with her niece, bẻ- ̈ ing come to town, and hearing your worfhip was in the houfe, would be glad to pay you their compliments. Sir Greg. Lack-a-day! wonderful! here we are all topfy-turvey again! what can be done now, cousin Hartop? Har. Dick! fhew the ladies in here; but delay them a little! The luckieft incident in the world, Sir Gregory! If you will be kind enough to lend Jenkins your drefs, and Mafter Timothy will lend me his, I'll make up matters in a moment. Sir Greg. Ay, ay, coufin. Tim. Fath and fole, you fhall have mine dire Har. No, no; step into the next room a minute, Sir Gregory. Sir Greg. Ay, ay, where you will. Tim. Fath, here will be choice fport. [Exeunt. Enter Mrs Penelope and Suck, with Waiter. Wait. The gentlemen will wait on you prefently. Would you choose any refreshment? Suck. A draught of ale, friend, for I'm main dry. Mrs Pen. Fie! fie! niece! is that liquor for a young lady? Don't difparage your family and breeding. The perfon is to be born that ever faw me touch any thing ftronger than water till I was three-and-twenty. Suck. Troth, aunt, that's fo long ago, that I think VOL. I. there's A a |