driuk your mistress's health in a bumper; but as to your conjugal scheme, I'll have nothing to do with that business, positively.

cending, all hurry, confusion, and distress! when, Bel. Prithee leave fooling. on a sudden, the voice of despair, silver sweet, Rove. I am in serious earnest, I assure you. came thrilling down to my very heart. Poor, I'll drink with you, game with you, go into any dear, little soul, what can she do!' cried the scheme or frolic with you; but 'ware matrimony! neighbours. Again she screamed; the fire ga-Nay, if you come to the tavern this evening, I'll thering force, and gaining upon her every instant. Here, madam, said I, leap into my arms, I'll be sure to receive you. And would you think it? down she came-my dear Rovewell, such a girl! I caught her in my arms, you rogue, safe, without harm. The dear naked Venus, just risen from her bed, my boy- --her slender waist, Rovewell, the downy smoothness of her whole person, and her limbs, harmonious swelling by nature's softest hand!

Rove. Raptures and paradise! What seraglio in Covent Garden did you carry her to?

Bel. Well, well, I'll take you at your word, and meet you at ten exactly, at the same place we were at last night; then and there I'll let you know what further measures I have concerted.

Rove. 'Till then, farewell; a-propos-do you know that I have seen none of my relations yet? Bel. Time enough to-morrow.

Rove. Ay, ay, to-morrow will do-Well, your

servant,

Bel. There again, now! Do, prithee, correct your way of thinking: take a quantum sufficit Bel. Rovewell, yours. [Erit.] See the genof virtuous love, and purify your ideas. Her tleman down stairs-and d'ye hear? come to me lovely bashfulness, her delicate fears, her beau-in my study, that I may give you a letter to Harty, heightened and endeared by distress, disper-riet. And hark'e, sir-be sure you see Harriet sed my wildest thoughts, and melted me into tenderness and respect. Rove. But, Belmour, surely she has not the impudence to be modest after you have had possession of her person?——

Bel, My views are honourable, I assure you, sir; but her father is so absurdly positive. The man is distracted about the balance of power, and will give his daughter to none but a politician. When there was an execution in his house, he thought of nothing but the camp at Pyrna; and now he's bankrupt, his head runs upon the ways and means, and schemes for paying off the national debt: the affairs of Europe engross all his attention, while the distresses of his lovely daughter pass unnoticed.

Rove. Ridiculous enough! But why do you mind him! Why don't you go to bed to the wench at once!- -Take her into keeping,

man.

Bel. How can you talk so affrontingly of her? Have not I told you, though her father is ruined, still she has great expectancies from a rich relation?

Rove. Then, what do you stand watering at the mouth for? If she is to have money enough to pay for her china, her gaming debts, her dogs, and her monkeys, marry her, then, if you needs must be ensnared: be in a fool's paradise for a honey-moon; then, come to yourself, wonder at what you have done, and mix with honest fellows again: Carry her off, I say, and never stand whining for the father's consent.

Bel. Carry her off! I like the scheme-Will you assist me?

Rove. No no; there I beg to be excused.Don't you remember what the satyrist says Never marry while there's a halter to be had for money, or a bridge to afford a convenient 'leap.'

herself; and let me have no messages from that officious go-between, her mistress Slipslop of a maid, with her unintelligible jargon of hard words, of which she neither knows the meaning nor pronunciation. [Exit BRISK.] I'll write to her this moment, acquaint her with the soft tumult of my desires, and, if possible, make her mine own this very night.

[Exit repeating.

'Love first taught letters for same wretch's aid, Some banished lover, or some captive maid.'

SCENE II.-The Upholsterer's house.

Enter HARRIET and TERMAGANT.

Ter. Well, but, madam, he has made love to you six weeks successively; he has been as constant in his moors, poor gentleman, as if you had the subversion of 'state to settle upon him—and if he slips through your fingers now, madam, you have nobody to depute it but to yourself:

Har. Lard, Termagant, how you run on! I tell you again and again, my pride was touched, because he seemed to presume on his opulence. and my father's distresses.

Ter. La, Miss Harriet, how can you be so paradropsical in your 'pinions?

Har. Well, but you know, though my father's affairs are ruined, I am not in so desperate a way; consider my uncle's fortune is no trifle, and I think that prospect entitles me to give myself a few airs, before I resign my person.

Ter. I grant ye, madam, you have very good pretensions; but then, it's waiting for dead men's shoes: I'll venture to be perjured Mr. Bellmour never disclaimed an idear of your fa ther's distress.

Har. Supposing that?

Ter. Suppose, madam-I know it disputably to be so.

Har. Indisputably, I guess you mean; but I'm tired of wrangling with you about words.

commissioners to-morrow, to disclose his effects; but I'll send my neighbour, counsellor Codicil, to him-Don't be dejected, Harriet; my poor sister, your mother, was a good woman: I love you for her sake, child, and all I am worth shall be yours-But I must be going-I find myself but very ill; good night, Harriet, good night!

[Exit FEEBLE.

Har. You'll give me leave to see you to the door, sir. [Exit HARRIET.

Ter. By my troth, you are in the right on't there's ne'er a she in all Old England (as your father calls it) is mistress of such phisiology, as I am. Incertain I am, as how you does not know nobody that puts their words together with such a curacy as myself. I once lived with a mistus, madam-Mistus! She was a lady-a great brew- Ter. O' my conscience, this master of mine er's wife-and she wore as fine clothes as any within here might have picked up his crumbs as person of quality, let her get up as early as she well as Mr Feeble, if he had any idear of his will-and she used to call me-Termagant, says business. I'm sure, if I had not hopes from Mr she-what is the figrification of such a word-Feeble, I should not tarry in this house-By my and I always told her-I told her the importation of all my words; though I could not help laughing, Miss Harriet, to see so fine a lady such a downright ignoramus.

Har. Well-but pray now, Termagant, would you have me, directly upon being asked the question, throw myself into the arms of a man?

Ter. O' my conscience you did throw yourself into his arms, with scarce a shift on; that's what you did.

Har. Yes; but that was a leap in the dark, when there was no time to think of it.

Ter. Well, it does not signify arguing, I wish we were both warm in bed; you with Mr Belmour, and I with his coxcomb of a man; instead of being manured here with an old crazy foolaxing your pardon, madam, for calling your father so-but he is a fool, and the worst of fools, with his policies-when his house is full of statues of bangcressy.

troth, if all who have nothing to say to the 'fairs
of the nation would mind their own business,
and those who should take care of our 'fairs
would mind their business too, I fancy poor Old
England (as they call it) would fare the better
among them-This old crazy pate within bere-
playing the fool-when the man is past his grand
clytemnester.
[Exit TERMAGANE.

SCENE III-Discovers QUIDNUNC at a table, with newspapers, pamphlets, &c. all around him.

Quid. Six and three is nine-seven and four is eleven, and carry one-let me see, 126 million -199 thousand 328-and all this with aboutwhere, where's the amount of the specie? Here, here-with about 15 million in specie, all this great circulation! good, good-Why then, how are we ruined? how are we ruined? What says the land-tax at 4 shillings in the pound? two million: now where's my new assessment?-here

Har. 'Tis too true, Termagant- -yet he's my father still, and I can't help loving him. Ter. Fiddle faddle-love him! Ile's an anec--here-the 5th part of twenty; 5 in 2, I can't, dote against love.

Har. Hush! here he comes !

Ter. No, 'tis your uncle, Feeble; poor gentleman, I pities him, eaten up with infirmaries, to to be taking such pains with a madman.

Enter FEEBLE.

but 5 in 20 [Pauses.] right, 4 times-why then, upon my new assessment there's 4 million-how are we ruined?-What says malt, cyder, and mum?-eleven and carry 1, nought and go 2— good, good; malt, hops, cyder, and mum. Then there's the wine-licence; and the gin-act is no bad article-if the people will shoot fire down their throats, why, in a Christian country, they should pay as much as possible for suicide-Salt, good-sugar, very good-Window-lights-good Feeb. He wants no consolation, child-Lack- again!-Stamp-duty, that's not so well-it will a-day-I'm so infirm I can hardly move.-I have a bad effect upon the newspapers, and we found him tracing in the map prince Charles | shan't have enough of politics—But there's the Lorraine's passage over the Rhine, and compar-lottery-where's my new scheme for a lottery? ing it with Julius Cæsar's. -here it is-Now for the amount of the whole

Har. Well, uncle, have you been able to console him?

Ter. An old blockhead!-I've no patience with-how are we ruined? 7 and carry noughthim, with his fellows coming after him every nought and carry 1hour in the day with news. Well now, I wishes there was no such thing as a newspaper in the world, with such a pack of lies, and such a deal of jab-jab every day.

Feeb. Ay, there were three or four shabby fellows with him when I went into his room-I can't get him to think of appearing before the

Enter TERMAGANT.

Ter. Sir, sir

Quid. Hold your tongue, you baggage! you'll put me out-Nought and carry 1.

Ter. Counsellor Codicil will be with you presently—

Enter RAZOR, with suds on his head, &c. Friend Razor, I'm glad to see thee-Well, hasta got any news?

Raz. A budget! I left a gentleman half-shaved in my shop over the way; it came into my head of a sudden, so I could not be at ease till I told you.

Quid. That's kind, that's kind, friend Razornever mind the gentleman; he can wait.

Raz. Yes, so he can; he can wait.
Quid. Come, now let's hear, what is't?

Raz. I shaved a great man's butler to-day.--fee-house was saying the other day, that there is

an huge tract of land about the pole, where the protestants may retire; and that the papists will never be able to beat them thence, if the northern

[Both shake their heads. powers hold together, and the Grand Turk make a

diversion in their favour.

Raz. [Laughs.] That makes me easy-I'm glad the protestants will know where to go, if the papists should get the better. [Going, re

Quid. Aye! full of thought--what can that turns.] Oh! Mr Quidnunc, hark ye! India bonds

Har. Dear sir, don't I see what you have got Quid. What, the law of nations? by politics? Cod. I am instructed, sir, that you're a bankQuid. Psha! my country's of more conse-rupt-Quasi bancus ruptus-banque route faire— quence to me and let me tell you, you can't And my instructions say further, that you are think too much of your country in these worst summoned to appear before the commissioners toof times; for Mr Monitor has told us, that af-morrow. fairs in the north, and the Protestant interest, begin to grow ticklish.

Ter. And your daughter's affairs are very tick- to be to-morrow at Slaughter's coffice-house with lish, too, I'm sure.

Quid. There again now! Why, do you think I Quid. You tell me news; you do indeed! don't know what I'm about? I'll look in the pa- Cod. It was so apprehended by the Goths and pers for a match for you, child; there's often the Longobards. And what saith sir Edward good matches advertised in the papers-Evil be-Coke? Fieri debeat felleo animo. tide it, evil betide it! I once thought to have struck a great stroke, that would have astonished all Europe; I thought to have married my daughter to Theodore, king of Corsica

of popery will secure us; there are provisos in est quod servitium socæ--The service of the favour of protestant purchasers under papists-plough. 10th Geo. 1. cap. 4. and 6th Geo. II. cap. 5. Quid. Ay!