Ser. For all this, I believe, hussy, a right honourable proposal would soon make you alter your mind.

Char. Not unless the proposer had other qualities than what he possesses by patent. Besides, sir, you know sir Luke is a devotee to the bottle.

Ser. Not a whit the less honest for that.

Char. It occasions one evil at least; that when under its influence, he generally reveals all, sometimes more than he knows.

sic. He is directed, in the first, by Mynheer Van Eisel, a Dutch dauber; and, in the last, is but the echo of Signora Florenza, his lordship's mistress, and an opera singer.

Ser. Mercy upon us! at what a rate the jade runs!

Char. In short, sir, I define every individual, who, ceasing to act for himself, becomes the tool, the mere engine, of another man's will, to be nothing more than a cypher.

Ser. At this rate the jade will half unpeople the world: but what is all this to sir Luke? to

Ser. Proofs of an open temper, you baggage but, come, come, all these are but trifling ob-him not one of your cases apply. jections.

Char. You mean, sir, they prove the object a trifle?

Ser. Why, you pert jade, do you play on my words? I say sir Luke is

Char. What, sir! a man who is not suffered to hear, see, smell, or, in short, to enjoy the free use of any one of his senses; who, instead of having a positive will of his own, is denied even a paltry negative; who can neither resolve or reply, consent or deny, without first obtaining the leave of his lady: an absolute monarch to sink into the sneaking state of being a slave to one of his subjects—Oh fye!

Ser. Why, to be sure, sir Harry Hen is, as I

may sav

Char. Nobody, sir, in the fullest sense of the word-Then your client, Lord Solo.

Ser. Heyday! Why, you would not annihilate a peer of the realm, with a prodigious estate, and an allowed judge, too, of the elegant arts?

Char. O yes, sir, I am no stranger to that nobleman's attributes; but then, sir, please to consider, his power as a peer he gives up to a proxy; the direction of his estate to a rapacious, artful attorney: and, as to his skill in the elegant arts, presume you confine them to painting and mu

Char. Every one-sir Luke has not a first principle in his whole composition; not only his pleasures, but even his passions, are prompted by others; and he is as much directed to the objects of his love and his hatred, as in his cating, drinking, and sleeping. Nay, though he is active, and eternally busy, yet his own private affairs are neglected; and he would not scruple to break an appointment that was to determine a considerable part of his property, in order to exchange a couple of hounds for a lord, or to buy a pad-nag for a lady. In a word-but he's at hand, and will explain himself best; I hear his stump on the stairs.

Ser. I hope you will preserve a little decency before your lover at least?

Char. Lover! ha, ha, ha!

Enter SIR LUKE LIMP.

Sir Luke. Mr Serjeant, your slave!—Ah! are you there, my little-O Lord! Miss, let me tell you something for fear of forgetting-Do you know that you are new-christened, and have had me for a gossip?

Char. Christened! I don't understand you.

Sir Luke. Then lend me your ear-Why, last night, as colonel Kill 'em, sir William Weezy, lord Frederick Foretop and I, were carelessly sliding the Ranelagh round, picking our teeth, after a damned muzzy dinner at Boodle's, who should trip by but an abbess, well known about town, with a smart little nun in her suit. Says Weezy (who, between ourselves, is as husky as hell) Who is that? odds flesh, she's a delicate wench! Zounds! cried lord Frederick, where can Weezy have been, not to have seen the Harrietta before? for you must know Frederick is a bit of a Macaroni, and adores the soft Italian termination in a.

Char. He does?

Sir Luke. Yes, a dilletanti all over. Before? replied Weezy; crush me if ever I saw any thing half so handsome before!-No! replied I in an instant; colonel, what will Weezy say when he sees the Charlotta?-Hey! you little

Char. Meaning me, I presume?

Sir Luke. Without doubt; and you have been toasted by that name ever since.

Ser. What a vast fund of spirits he has ! Sir Luke. And why not, my old splitter of causes?

Ser. I was just telling Charlotte, that you was not a whit the worse for the loss.

Sir Luke: Why, it was but last snmmer at Tunbridge, we were plagued the whole season with a bullet-headed Swiss from the canton of Berne, who was always boasting what and how much he dared do; and then, as to pain, no Stoic, Sir Luke. The worse! much the better, my not Diogenes, held it more in contempt. By dcar. Consider, I can have neither strain, splint, gods, he vas ne more minds it dan nothings at all spavin, or gout; have no fear of corns, kibes, or-So, foregad, I gave my German a challenge. that another man should kick my shins, or tread on my toes.

Ser. Right.

Sir Luke. What, d'ye think I would change with Bill Spindle for one of his drumsticks, or chop with Lord Lumber for both of his logs?

Ser. No!

Ser. As how!-Mind, Charlotte.

Sir Luke. Why, to drive a corkin-pin into the calves of our legs.

Ser. Well, well?

Sir Luke. Mine, you may imagine, was easily done-but when it came to the baronSer. Ay, ay?

Sir Luke. Our modern Cato soon lost his cooland courage, screwed his nose up to his foretop, rapped out a dozen oaths in High Dutch, limped away to his lodgings, and was there laid up for a month-Ha, ha, ha!

Sir Luke. No, damn it, I am much betterLook there-Ha!-What is there I am not ableness to do! To be sure I am a little aukward at running; but then, to make me amends, I'll hop with any man in town for his sum.

Ser. Ay, and I'll go his halves.

Sir Luke. Then as to your dancing, I am cut out at Madam Cornelly's, I grant, because of the crowd; but as far as a private set of six couple, or moving a chair-minuet, match me who can! Char. A chair-minuet! I don't understand you.

Sir Luke. Why, child, all grace is confined to the motion of the head, arms, and chest, which may, sitting, be as fully displayed as if one had as many legs as a polypus-As thus-tol de roldon't you see ?

Ser. Very plain.

Enter a Servant, and delivers a card to SIR

LUKE.

Sir Luke. [Reads.] Sir Gregory Goose desires the honour of sir Luke Limp's company to dine. An answer is desired.' Gadso! a little unlucky; I have been engaged for these three weeks.

Ser. What, I find sir Gregory is returned for the corporation of Fleesum.

Sir Luke. Is he so? Oh ho!-That alters the case.-George, give my compliments to sir Gre

Sir Luke. A leg! a redundancy! a mere no-gory, and I'll certainly come and dine there. thing at all. Man is from nature an extravagant creature. In my opinion, we might all be full as well as we are with but half the things that we have.

Char. Ay, sir Luke? how do you prove that? Sir Luke. By constant experience.-You must have seen the man who makes and uses pens without hands?

Order Joe to run to alderman Inkle's in Threadneedle-street; sorry can't wait upon him, but confined to bed two days with new influenza.

Char. You make light, sir Luke, of these sort of engagements?

Sir Luke. What can a man do? These damned fellows (when one has the misfortune to meet them) take scandalous advantages-teaze-when will you do me the honour, pray, sir Luke, to take a bit of mutton with me? do you name the day-They are as bad as a beggar, who attacks your coach at the mounting of a hill; there is no getting rid of them, without a penny to one and a promise to t'other.

Ser. True; and then for such a time, toothree weeks! I wonder they expect folks to remember. It is like a retainer in Michaelmas term for the summer assizes.

Sir Luke. Not but upon these occasions, no man in England is more punctual than—

-Mons. Duport-fail-Dinner upon table at 'five-Gadso! I hope sir Gregory's servant an't gone?

Sero. Immediately upon receiving the answer. Sir Luke. Run after him as fast as you can— tell him, quite in despair-recollect an engagement that can't in nature be missed-and return in an instant.

Char. You see, sir, the knight must give way for my lord.

a coach-horse for brigadier Whip; after that must run into the city to borrow a thousand for young At-all at Almack's; send a Cheshire cheese, by the stage, to sir Timothy Tankard in Suffolk; and get, at the Herald's oflice, a coat of arms to clap on the coach of Billy Bengal, a nabob newly arrived: so you see I have not a mo ment to lose.

Ser. True, true.

Sir Luke. At your toilet to-morrow, at ten,

Sir Luke. No, faith, it is not that, iny dear | you mayCharlotte; you saw that was quite an extempore business.-No, hang it, no, it is not for the title; but, to tell you the truth, Brentford has more wit than any man in the world; it is that makes me fond of his house.

Char. By the choice of his company he gives an unanswerable instance of that.

Sir Luke. You are right, my dear girl. But now to give you a proof of his wit. You know Brentford's finances are a little out of repair, which procures him some visits that he would very gladly excuse.

Ser. What need he fear? His person is sacred; for, by the tenth of William and MarySir Luke. He knows that well enough; but for all that

Ser. Indeed, by a late act of his own house, (which does them infinite honour) his goods or chattels may be-

Sir Luke. Seized upon, when they can find them; but he lives in ready-furnished lodgings, and hires his coach by the month.

Ser. Nay, if the sheriff return non inven'tus'-

Enter a servant abruptly, and runs against
SIR LUKE.

Can't you see where you are running, you ras-
cal!

Serv. Sir, his grace, the duke of

Sir Luke. Grace! where is he?-Where-
Serv. In his coach at the door. If you an't
better engaged, would be glad of your company
to go into the city, and take a dinner at Dolly's.
Sir Luke. In his own coach, did you say?
Serv. Yes, sir.

Sir Luke. With the coronets-or-
Serv. I believe so.

Sir Luke. There's no resisting of that.-Bid
Joe run to sir Gregory Goose's.

Serv. He is already gone to alderman Inkie's. Sir Luke. Then do you step to the knighthey!--no-you must go to my lord's-hold, hold, no-I have it-Step first to sir Greg's, then pop in at lord Brentford's just as the company are going to dinner

Serv. What shall I say to sir Gregory?

Sir Luke. Any thing-what I told you before.
Serv. And what to my lord?

Sir Luke. A pox o'your law, you make me lose sight of my story! One morning, a Welch coachmaker came with his bill to my lord, whose name Sir Luke. What!-Why, tell him, that my was unluckily Loyd. My lord had the man up. uncle from Epsom-no-that won't do, for he You are called, I think, Mr Loyd?-At your lord-knows I don't care a farthing for him-hey!ship's service, my lord.-What! Loyd with an L? Why, tell him-hold, I have it. Tell him, that, -It was with an L indeed, my lord.--Because in as I was going into my chair to obey his com your part of the world, I have heard that Loyd mands, I was arrested by a couple of bailiffs, and Floyd were synonymous, the very same forced into a hackney-coach, and carried to the names. Very often, indeed, my lord.-But you Pyed Bull in the borough; I beg ten thousand always spell yours with an L?-Always.-That, pardons for making his grace wait, but his grace Mr Loyd, is a little unlucky; for you must know knows my misfor[Exit. I am now paying my debts alphabetically, and in four or five years you might have come in with an F; but I am afraid I can give you no hopes for your L.-Ha, ha, ha !

Enter a Servant.

Serv. There was no overtaking the servant.
Sir Luke. That is unlucky! Tell my lord I'll
attend him. I'll call on sir Gregory myself.
Ser. Why, you won't leave us, sir Luke?

Char. Well, sir, what d'ye think of the proofs? I flatter myself I have pretty well established my case.

Ser. Why, hussy, you have hit upon points; but then they are but trifling flaws, they don't vitiate the title, that stands unimpeached; andBut, madam, your mother.

Enter MRS CIRCUIT.

Mrs Cir. What have you done with the knight?

Sir Luke. Pardon, dear Serjeant and Char-Why, you have not let him depart? lotte have a thousand things to do for half a million of people, positively promised to procure a husband for lady Cicely Sulky, and match VOL. III.

Char. It was not in my power to keep him. Mrs Cir. I don't wonder at that; but what took him away?

3 X

Char. What will at any time take him away- Kitty Cribbage. I protest I almost blush whena duke at the door. ever I meet them.

Mrs Cir. Are you certain of that?

Serj. Why, truly, chuck, his retreat was rather precipitate for a man, that is just going to be married.

Mrs Cir. The prospect of marriage does not always prove the strongest attachment.

Serj. Pardon me, lovee: the law allows no higher consideration than marriage.

Mrs Cir. Pshaw !

Serj. Insomuch, that if duke A was to intermarry with chambermaid B, difference of condition would prove no bar to the settlement.

Mrs Cir. Indeed!

Serj. Ay; and this was held to be law by chief baron Bind'em, in the famous case of the marquis of Cully and Fanny Flip-flap, the French dancer.

Mrs Cir. The greater blockhead the baron:but don't pester me with your odious law-cases. Did not you tell me you was to go to Kingston to-day to try the crown causes?

Serj. I was begged to attend for fear his lordship should not be able to sit; but, if it proves inconvenient to you

Mrs Cir. To me! Oh, by no means in the world; I am too good a subject to desire the least delay in the law's execution. And when d'ye set out?

Serj. Between one and two. I shall only just give a law lecture to Jack.

Mrs Cir. Lord! I wonder, Mr Circuit, you would breed that boy up to the bar.

Serj. Why not, chuck? He has fine steady parts, and for his time moots a point

Mrs Cir. Steady! stupid, you mean: nothing, sure, could add to his heaviness but the being loaded with law. Why don't you put him into the army?

Serj. Nay, chuck, if you choose it, I believe I have interest to get Jack a commission.

Mrs Cir. Why, Mr Circuit, you know he is no son of mine: perhaps, a cockade may animate the lad with some fire.

Serj. True, lovee; and a knowledge of the law
mayn't be amiss to restrain his fire a little.
Mrs Cir. I believe there is very little danger
of his exceeding in that way.

Serj. Charlotte, send hither your brother.
[Exit CHAR.

Mrs Cir. I'll not interrupt you.
Ser. Far from it, lovee; I should be glad to
have you a witness of Jacky's improvement.

Mrs Cir. Of that I am no judge; besides, I am full of business to-day-There is to be a ballot at one for the Ladies Club lately established, and lady Bab Basto has proposed me for a member. Pray, my dear, when will you let me have that money to pay my lord Loo? Serj. The three hundred you mean?

Serj. Why really, lovee, 'tis a large sum of money. Now, were I worthy to throw in a little advice, we might make a pretty good hand of this business.

Mrs Cir. I don't understand you.

Serj. Bring an action against them on the statute in the name of my clerk; and so not only rescue the debt from their hands, but recover likewise considerable damages.

Mrs Cir. A pretty conceit, Mr Serjeant! but does it not occur to your wisdom, that as I have (by the help of captain Dog) been oftener a winner than loser, the tables may be turned upon us?

Serj. No, no, chuck, that did not escape me— I have provided for that. Do you know, by the law, both parties are equally culpable; so that, lovee, we shall be able to fleece your friends not only of what they have won of poor dearee, but likewise for what they have lost.

Mrs Cir. Why, what a paltry, pettifogging puppy art thou! And could you suppose that I would submit to the scandalous office?

Serj. 'Scandalous! I don't understand this strange perversion of words. The scandal lies in breaking the laws, not in bringing the offenders to justice.

Mrs Cir. Mean-spirited wretch! What, do you suppose that those laws could be levelled against people of their high rank and condition? Can it be thought that any set of men would submit to legal restraints on themselves? Absurd and preposterous!

Serj. Why, by their public practice, my love, one would suspect that they thought themselves excepted by a particular clause.

Mrs Cir. Oh, to be sure! not the least doubt can be made.

Serj. True, chuck-But, then, your great friends should never complain of highwaymen stopping their coaches, or thieves breaking into their houses.

Mrs Cir. Why, what has that to do with the business?

Serj. Oh, the natural consequence, lovee; for, whilst the superiors are throwing away their fortunes, and consequently their independence, above-you can't think but their domestics are following their examples below.

Mrs Cir. Well, and what then?

Serj. Then the same distress that throws the master and mistress into the power of any who are willing to purchase them, by a regular gradation seduces the servants to actions, though more critical, perhaps not more atrocious.

Mrs Cir. Pshaw! stuff! I have no need to examine your dirty distinctions-Don't tease me with your jargon-I have told you the sums I Mrs Cir. And besides, there is my debt to shall want, so take care they are ready at your

Serj. How often have I told you, that I will see none of these sort of folks but at chambers? you know how angry your mother is at their rap-day ing, and littering the house.

Jack. He says, sir, he will not detain you five

minutes.

Serj. Well, bid him walk in.

Enter FAIRPLAY.

Well, Mr Fairplay, what's your will?

Fair. I just called, Mr Serjeant, to know your opinion upon the case of young Woodford, and if you like the proposal of being concerned.

Serj. If it turns out as you state it, and that the father of the lad was really a minor, the Essex estate may, without doubt, be recovered, and so may the lands in the North.

Fair. We have full proofs to that fact. Serj. May be so; but really, Mr Fairplay, you know the length of time that these kind of

suits

Fair. True, sir, but then your experience will shorten, I appreh

Serj. That's more than I know; and, then, not only my fees lying dormant, but, perhaps, an expectation of money advanced.

Fair. The property, sir, is of very great value, and, upon the recovery, any acknowledgement shall be readily made.

Jack. I am positive, sir, if you were to hear him speak at the Robinhood in the Butcher-row, you would say so yourself. Why, he is now reckoned the third. Except the breeches-maker, from Barbican, and Sawney Sinclair, the snuffman, there is not a mortal can touch him.

Serj. Peace, puppy! Well, Mr Fairplay, leave the papers a little longer with me, and—pray, who is employed against you?

Fair. A city attorney, one Sheepskin.

Serj. A cunning fellow; I know him. Well, sir, if you will call at Pump-court in a week— Fair. I shall attend you.

Scrj. Jack, open the door for Mr- [Exeunt FAIRPLAY and JACK.] Something may be made of this matter. I'll see this Sheepskin myself.— So much in future for carrying on the suit, or so much in hand to make it miscarry. A wise man should well weigh which party to take for.

Serj. Praying for an equal partition of plun

der?

Jack. Yes, sir.

Serj. There again, any! do you know, that in law, the word any has no meaning at all?besides, when people are in distress, they are lavish enough of their offers; but when their business is done, then we have nothing but grum-waymen can't be true to each other! [Half bling and grudging.

Fair. You have only to dictate your terms.
Serj. Does the lad live in town?

Fair. He has been under my care since the death of his father. I have given him as good

Serj. Strange world we live in, that even high

aside to himself. But we shall make master Vizard refund; we'll show him what long hands the law has.

Jack. Facias says, that, in all the books, he can't hit a precedent.