poor devil to pay it. pleasures for you!

He ma chere! There are

Luc. Bravo! marquis! These are allurements for a woman of spirit. But don't let us conclude too hastily; hear the other side: what have you to offer, Mr. Buck, in favour of England?

Buck. Why, madam, for a woman of spirit, they give you the same advantages in London as at Paris, with a privilege forgot by the marquis, an indisputable right to cheat at cards in spite of de

tection.

Marq. Pardon me, sir, we have the same; but I thought this privilege so known and universal, that 'twas needless to mention it.

Buck. You'll give up nothing, I find; but to tell you my blunt thoughts in a word, if any woman can be so abandon'd, as to rank amongst the comforts of matrimony, the privilege of hating her husband, and the liberty of committing every folly and every vice contained in your catalogue, she may stay single for me; for damn me, if I'm a husband fit for her humour; that's all.

Marq. I told

I told you, mademoiselle!

Luc. But stay, what have you to offer as counterbalance for these pleasures?

Buck. Why, I have, madam, courage to protect you, good-nature to indulge your love, and health enough to make gallants useless, and too good a fortune to render running in debt necessary. Find that here if you can.

Marq. Bagatelle !

Luc. Spoke with the sincerity of a Briton; and as I don't perceive that I shall have any use for the fashionable liberties you propose, you'll pardon, marquis, my national prejudice; here's my hand, Mr. Buck.

Buck. Servant, Monsieur.
Marq. Serviteur!

Buck. No offence!

Marq. Not in the least; I am only afraid the reputation of that lady's taste will suffer a little; and to shew her at once the difference of her choice, the preference, which, if bestowed on me, would not fail to exasperate you, I support without murmuring; so that favour, which would probably have provok'd my fate, is now your protection. Voila la politesse Françoise, madam; I have the honour to be-Bon jour, monsieur. Tol de rol.

[Exit Marq. Buck. The fellow bears it well. Now if you'll give me your hand, we'll in, and with Mr. Subtle.

Luc. 'Tis now my duty to obey.

Enter Roger, peeping about.

settle matters

[Exeunt.

Rog. The coast is clear; sir, sir, you may come in now, master Classic.

Enter Mr. Classic and the Father.

Class. Roger, watch at the door. I wish, Sir John, I could give you a more chearful welcome, but we have no time to lose in ceremony; you are arrived in the critical minute; two hours more would have plac'd the inconsiderate couple out of the reach of pursuit.

Father. How can I acknowledge your kindness? You have preserved my son; you have sav'd Class. I have done my duty; but of thatRog. Maister and the young woman's coming. Class. Sir John, place yourself here, and be a witness how near a crisis is the fate of your family.

Enter Buck and Lucinda.

Buck. Pshaw! What signifies her? 'Tis odds whether she'd consent, from the fear of my father. Besides, she told me, we could never be married

here; and so pack up a few things, and we'll off in a post-chaise directly.

Luc. Stay, Mr. Buck. let me have a moment's reflection. What am I about! contriving in concert with the most profligate couple that ever disgrac'd human nature, to impose an indigent orphan on the sole representative of a wealthy and honorable family! Is this a character becoming my birth and education? What must be the consequence? Sure detection and contempt, contempt even from him, when his passions cool. I have resolv'd, sir.

Buck. Madam.

Luc. As the expedition we are upon the point of taking is to be a lasting one, we ought not to be over-hasty in our resolution.

Buck. Pshaw! Stuff! When a thing's resolv'd, the sooner 'tis over the better.

Luc. But before it is absolutely resolv'd, give me leave to beg an answer to two questions. Buck. Make haste then.

Luc. What are your thoughts of me?

Buck. Thoughts! Nay, I don't know; why that you are a sensible, civil, handsome, handy girl, and will make a devilish good wife. That's all I think.

Luc. But of my rank and fortune?

Buck. Mr. Subtle says they are both great; but that's no business of mine, I was always determin'd to marry for love.

Luc. Generously said! My birth, I believe, won't disgrace you; but for my fortune, your friend, Mr. Subtle, I fear, has anticipated you there.

Buck. Much good may it do him; I have enough for both. But we lose time, and may be prevented.

Luc. By whom?

Buck. By domine; or perhaps father may come.

Luc. Your father!-You think he would prevent you then.

Buck. Perhaps he would.

Luc. And why?

Buck. Nay, I don't know; but pshaw! 'zooks! this is like saying one's catechise. Luc. But don't you think your necessary?

father's consent

Buck. No! Why 'tis I am to be married, and not he. But come along, old fellows love to be obstinate; but ecod I am as mulish as he; and to tell you the truth, if he had propos'd me a wife, that would have been reason enough to make me dislike her; and I don't think I should be half so hot about marrying you, only I thought 'twould plague the old fellow damnably. So, my pretty partner, come along; let's have no more

Enter Father and Classic.

Fath. Sir, I am oblig'd to you for this declaration, as to it I owe the entire subjection of that paternal weakness which has hitherto suspended the correction your abandon'd libertinism has long provok'd. You have forgot the duty you owe a father, disclaim'd my protection, cancell'd the natural covenant between us; 'tis time I now should give you up to the guidance of your own guilty passions, and treat you as a stranger to my blood for ever.

Buck. I told you what would happen, if he should come; but you may thank yourself.

Fath. Equally weak as wicked, the dupe of a raw, giddy girl. But proceed, sir; you have nothing farther to fear from me; compleat your project, and add her ruin to your own.

Buck. Sir, as to me, you may say what you please; but for the young woman, she does not deserve it; but now she wanted me to get your consent, and told me that she had never a penny of portion into the bargain.

Fath. A stale, obvious artifice! She knew the discovery of the fraud must follow close on your inconsiderate marriage, and would then plead the merits of her prior candid discovery. The lady, doubtless, sir, has other secrets to disclose; but, as her cunning reveal'd the first, her policy will preserve the rest.

Luc.
Buck.

What secrets?

Be quiet, I tell you; let him alone, and he'll cool of himself by and by.

Luc. Sir, I am yet the protectress of my own honour; in justice to that, I must demand an explanation. What secrets, sir!

Fath. Oh! perhaps a thousand! But I am to blame to call them secrets; the customs of this gay country give sanction, and stamp merit upon vice; and vanity will here proclaim what modesty would elsewhere blush to whisper.

Luc. Modesty!-You suspect my virtue then! Fath. You are a lady; but the fears of a father may be permitted to neglect a little your plan of politeness: Therefore to be plain; from your residence in this house, from your connection with these people, and from the scheme which my presence has interrupted, I have suspicions- -of what nature, ask yourself.

Luc. Sir, you have reason, appearances are against me, I confess, but when you have heard my melancholy story, you'll own you have wrong'd me, and learn to pity her whom now you hate.

Fath. Madam, you misemploy your time; there tell your story, there it will be believ'd; I am too knowing in the wiles of women, to be soften'd by a syren tear, or impos'd on by an artful tale.

Luc. But hear me, sir, on my knee, I beg it, nay I demand it; you have wrong'd me, and must do me justice.

Class. I am sure, madam, sir John will be glad to find his fears are false, but you can't blame him.