"Or I, a gentleman, did wed
"The lady I would never bed,
"Great Agamemnon's royal daughter,
"Who's coming hither-to draw water."
Thus gave at once the bards of Greece
The cream and marrow of the piece;
Afking no trouble of your own
To kim the milk, or crack the bone.
The poets now take diff'rent ways:
E'en let them find it out for Bayes!
And Tragedy as well might fwagger
Without blank verfe, or bowl, or dagger,
As Farce attempt the arduous task,
To walk abroad without her mask.
A poet, as once poets us'd,
To poverty was quite reduc'd.
No boy on errands to be fent,
On his own meffages he went.

And once, with confcious pride and shame,
As from the chandler's-fhop he came,
Under his thread-bare cloak, poor foul!
He cover'd-half a peck of coal.
A Wag (his friend) began to fmoke;
-George! tell us, what's beneath your cloak?
-Tell you! it were as well to fhow→→→
I hid it that you shou'd not know.

Yet Farce and Title, one to t'other
Shou'd feem, like Sofias, a Twin-brother.
Prologues, like Andrews at a Fair,
To draw you in, fhou'd make you stare.
"The notified the only Booth!-Walk in!
"Gem'men, in here! just going to begin!"
And if our Author don't produce
Some character that plays the Deuce;
If there's no frolic, fenfe, nor whim,
Retort, and play the dev'l with him!

SCENE, A Room in Emily's Houfe.

Enter EMILY with a Letter open in her Hand-
Mademoiselle FLORIVAL in Man's Cloaths.

BE

EMILY.

-and

E affured, that I will do every thing in my power to ferve you; my brother knew that he might com. mand my fervice-Be comforted, I befeech you, Madam.

Flo.

Flo. You cannot wonder, Madam, that I fhould be fhocked, extremely fhocked, at the cruel neceffity of appearing before you in fo indelicate a disguise.

Em. Indeed you need not: there is fomething in your manner, which convinces me, that every action of your life carries its apology along with it; though I will not venture to inquire into the particulars of your story tilk your mind is more at ease.

Flo. Alas, Madam, it is my interest to make you ac- quainted with my ftory. I am the daughter of Monfieur Florival, a French phyfician, in the island of Belleifle. An English officer, who had been defperately wounded, was, after the capitulation, for the fake of due attendance, taken into my father's houfe; and as I, in the very early part of my life, had refided in England, he took fome pleasure in my converfation. In a word, he won my affections, and asked me of my father in marriage: but he, alas! too much influenced by the narrow prejudices fo common between the two nations, forbad the officer his houfe, but not before we were, by the moft folemn engagements, fecretly contracted to each other.

Em. May I ask the officer's name?

Flo. Excufe me, Madam. Till I fee or hear from him once more, my prudence, vanity, or call it what you will, will scarce fuffer me to mention it. Your bro→→ ther, indeed, is acquainted with

Em. I beg your pardon-I hope, however, you have no reafon to think yourself neglected or forgot-

ten?

·Flo. Oh no; far from it. He was foon recalled by orders from England; and on my father's preffing me to confent to another match, my paffion-I blush to own it-tranfported me fo far, as to depart abruptly from Belleifle. I came over in an Englifh fhip to Portf mouth, where I expected, according to letters he had contrived to fend me, to find the officer. But, judge of my disappointment, when I learnt that he embarked but three days before for the fiege of the Havannah. Em. The Havannah!-You touch me nearly Pray go on.

Flo. In a strange kingdom-alone-and a woman—

what

what could I do? In order to defeat inquiries after me, I disguised myself in this habit, and mixt with the officers of the place; but your brother foon discovered my uneafinefs, and faw through my difguife. I frankly confeffed to him every particular of my ftory: in confequence of which, he has thus generously recommended me to your protection.

Em. And you may depend on my friendship-Your fituation affects me ftrangely.

Flo. Oh, Madam, it is impoffible to tell you half its miferies; efpecially fince your brother has convinced me, that I am fo liable to be discovered.

Em. You fhall throw off that drefs as foon as poffible, and then I will take you into the house with me and my fifter In the mean time, let me fee you every day every hour. I fhall not be afraid that your vifits will affect my reputation.

Flo. You are too good to me.

[Weeping Em. Nay, this is too much. It overcomes me. Pray, be cheerful!

Flo. I humbly take my leave.

Em. Adieu. I fhall expect you to dinner.

Flo. I fhall do myself the honour of waiting on you

[Exit. Em. (alone) Poor woman! I thought my own uneafinefs almost infupportable; and yet how much must her anxiety exceed mine!

Enter Bell.

So, fifter! I met your fine gentleman. Upon my word, the young spark must be a favourite-You have had a téte-a-tête of above half an hour together. Em. How d'ye like him?

Bell. Not at all: a foft lady-like gentleman, with a white hand, a mincing ftep, and a smooth chin. Where does this pretty mafter come from?

Em. From my brother.

Bell. Who is he?

Em. A prefent to you.

Bell. A prefent to me! What d'ye mean?

Em. Why, did not my brother promife to take care

of you before he went abroad?

Bell. Well and what then?

Em.

Em. What then! Why, he has taken care of you fent you a pretty fellow for a husband-Could he poffibly take better care of you?

Bell. A hufband!-a puppet, a doll, a—

Em. A foldier, Bell!-a red coat, confider.

Bell. A fine foldier, indeed!—I can't bear to see a. red coat cover any thing but a man, fifter.-Give me a foldier, that looks as if he cou'd love me and protect me; ay, and tame me too, if I deferv'd it. -If I was to have this thing for a husband, I wou'd fet him at the top of my India-cabinet with the China figures, and bid the maid take care fhe did not break him.

Em. Well, well; if this is the cafe, I don't know what my brother will fay to you. Here's his letter! read it, and fend him an answer yourself.

Bell. (reads.) "Dear sister, the bearer of this letter "is a lady!"-So, fo! your fervant, madam !—and your's too, fifter!" whofe cafe is truely compaffionate, and whom I moft earnestly recommend to your pro"tection,"-Um-um-um-" take care of her". Um—um—um—" not too many questions"-Um-um um-"in town in a few days." -I'll be whipt now,

if this is not some mistress of his.

En. No, no, Bell, I know her whole hiftory. It is quite a little novel. She is a Frenchwoman, Mademoiselle Florival, run away from her father at Belleisle, and dying for an English gentleman at the Havannah. Bel. The Havannah !. -Not for Colonel Tamper, I hope, fister.

Em. If Colonel Tamper had been at the taking of Belleifle too, I should have been frighted out of my wits about it.

Bel. Suppofe I fhould bring you fome news of him ? Em. Of whom?

Bell. Colonel Tamper.

Em. What do you mean?

Bell. Only a card.

Em. A card!-from whom? What card?

Bell. Oh, what a delightful flutter it puts her into! Em. Nay, but tell me.

Bell. Well then- - while your vifitor was here, there

came

came a card from Major Belford; and I took the liberty of fending an answer to it.

Em. Let me fee it! Dear Bell, let me fee it!

Bell. Oh, it was nothing but his compliments, and "defiring to have the honour of waiting on you any "time this morning from Colonel Tamper."

Em. From Colonel Tamper!-What can this mean? I am ready to fink with fear-Why does he not come himself?

Bell. He's not arrived-not come to town yet, I fuppofe.

Em. Oh, Bell! I could fuppofe twenty things that terrify me to death.

Bell. I think now, fuch a meffage ought to put you quite out of your pain: he could not come from Colonel Tamper, if there was no fuch perfon in being.

pened to him!

Em. Ay, but fuppofe any accident should have hap-Heaven forbid! How unfortunate is it to doat upon a man, whofe profeffion exposes him hourly to the risk of his life!

Bell. Lord, Emily, how can you torment yourself with fuch horrid imaginations? Befides, fhould the worst come to the worst- it is but a lover lost; and that

is a lofs eafily repaired, you know.

Em. Go, you mad-cap! but you'll pay for all this one day, I warrant you. When you come to be heartily in for it yourself, Bell, you will know, that when a pure and difinterefted paffion fills the breaft, when once a woman has fet her heart upon a man, nothing in the world but that very man will ever make her happy.

Bell. I admire your fetting your heart, as you call it, of all things. Your love, my dear Emily, is not fo romantic. You pitch upon a man of figure and fortune, handfome, fenfible, good-natured, and well-bred; of rank in life, and credit in his profeffion; a man that half the women in town would pull caps for; and then you talk, like a fly prude, of your pure and difinterested paffion.

Em. Why, then, I declare, if he had not a friend on earth, or a fhilling in the world- if he was as miferable as the utmoft malice of ill fortune could make