thing, but Ho

(Walks about in great agitation,

-recovering his calmness a little, sits down.)

Farewell the most distant thoughts of marriage; the finger-circling ring, the purity-figuring glove, the envy-pining bridemaids, the wishing parson, and the simpering clerk. Farewell, the ambiguous blush-raising joke, the titter-provoking pun, the morning stirringdrum.-No son of mine shall exist, to bear my ill-fated name. No nurse come chuckling, to tell me it is a boy. No midwife, leering at me from under the lids of professional gravity. I dreamed of caudle.-(sings in a melancholy tone.) Lullaby, Lullaby,—hush-a-by-baby -how like its papa it is! — (makes motions as if he was nursing.) And then, when grown up, "Is this your son, Sir?" "Yes, Sir, a poor copy of me, a sad young dog,-just what his father was at his age,-I have four more at home." Oh! oh! oh!

Enter Landlord.

Mr. H. Landlord, I must pack up to night; you will see all my things got ready.

Landlord. Hope you Honour does not intend to quit the Blue Boar,-sorry any thing has happened.

Mr. H. He has heard it all.

Landlord. Your Honour has had some mortification, to be sure, as a man may say; you have brought your pigs to a fine market.

Mr. H. Pigs!

Landlord. What then? take old Pry's advice, and never mind it. Don't scorch your crackling for 'em, Sir. Mr. H. Scorch my crackling! a queer phrase; but I suppose he don't mean to affront me.

Landlord. What is done can't be undone; you can't make a silken purse out of a sow's ear.

Mr. H. As you say, Landlord, thinking of a thing does but augment it.

Landlord. Does but hogment it, indeed, Sir.

Mr. H. Hogment it! damn it, I said, augment it. Landlord. Lord, Sir, 'tis not every body has such gift of fine phrases as your Honour, that can lard his discourse.

Mr. H. Lard!

Landlord. Suppose they do smoke you

Mr. H. Smoke me?

Landlord. One of my phrases; never mind my words, Sir, my meaning is good. We all mean the same thing, only you express yourself one way, and I another, that's all. The meaning's the same; it is all pork.

Mr. H. That's another of your phrases, I presume. (Bell rings, and the Landlord called for).

Landlord. Anon, anon.

Mr. H. O, I wish I were anonymous.

[Exeunt several ways.

SCENE.-Melesinda's Apartment.

MELESINDA and Maid.

Maid. Lord, Madam! before I'd take on as you do about a foolish what signifies a name? Hogs-Hogs —what is it—is just as good as any other for what I see. Melesinda. Ignorant creature! yet she is perhaps blest in the absence of those ideas, which while they add a zest to the few pleasures which fall to the lot of superior natures to enjoy, doubly edge the

Maid. Superior natures! a fig! If he's hog by name he's not hog by nature, that don't follow-his name don't make him any thing, does it? He don't grunt the more for it, nor squeak, that ever I hear; he likes his victuals out of a plate, as other Christians do, you never see him go to the trough

Melesinda. Unfeeling wretch! yet possibly her in

tentions.

Maid. For instance, Madam, my name is FinchBetty Finch. I don't whistle the more for that, nor long after canary-seed while I can get good wholesome mutton-no, nor you can't catch me by throwing salt on my tail. If you come to that, hadn't I a young man used to come after me, they said courted me-his name was Lion-Francis Lion, a tailor; but though he was fond enough of me, for all that, he never offered to

eat me.

Melesinda. How fortunate that the discovery has

been made before it was too late. Had I listened to his deceits, and, as the perfidious man had almost persuaded me, precipitated myself into an inextricable engagement before

Maid. No great harm, if you had. You'd only have bought a pig in a poke—and what then? Oh, here he comes creeping

Enter MR. H. abject.

Go to her, Mr. Hogs-Hogs-Hogsbristles what's your name? Don't be afraid, man-don't give it up —she's not crying—only summat has made her eyes red -she has got a sty in her eye, I believe-(going).

Melesinda. You are not going, Betty?

Maid. O, Madam, never mind me- -I shall be back in the twinkling of a pig's whisker, as they say. [Exit.

Mr. H. Melesinda, you behold before you a wretch who would have betrayed your confidence, but it was love that prompted him; who would have tricked you by an unworthy concealment into a participation of that disgrace which a superficial world has agreed to attach to a name-but with it you would have shared a fortune not contemptible, and a heart-but 'tis over now. That name he is content to bear alone-to go where the persecuted syllables shall be no more heard, or excite no meaning-some spot where his native tongue has never penetrated, nor any of his countrymen have landed, to plant their unfeeling satire, their brutal wit,

and national ill manners-where no Englishman-(Here Melesinda, who has been pouting during this speech, fetches a deep sigh). Some yet undiscovered Otaheite, where witless, unapprehensive savages shall innocently pronounce the ill-fated sounds, and think them not inharmonious.

Melesinda. Oh!

Mr. H. Who knows but among the female natives might be found

Melesinda. Sir !(raising her head).

Mr. H. One who would be more kind than-some Oberea-Queen Oberea.

Melesinda. Oh!

Mr. H. Or what if I were to seek for proofs of reciprocal esteem among unprejudiced African maids, in Monomotopa.

Enter Servant.

Servant. Mr. Belvil.

Enter BELVIL.

[Exit.

Mr. H. Monomotopa (musing).

Belvil. Heyday, Jack! what means this mortified face? nothing has happened, I hope, between this lady and you. I beg pardon, Madam, but understanding my friend was with you, I took the liberty of seeking him here. Some little difference possibly which a third person can adjust-not a word— will you, Madam, as this gentleman's friend, suffer me to be the arbitrator