I must tell you in plain words, that he owes his ruin to entertaining fuch fine gentlemen as yourself.

L. Pride. Me, Sir! Rat me! I would have you know I think I do you too much honour in entering into you, doors but I am glad you have taught me at what dir ftance to keep fuch mechanics for the future. ComePuff, let's to the opera. I fee, if a man hath not good, `blood in his veins, riches won't teach him to behave like a gentleman.

L. Puff. Canaille !

[Exeunt L. Pride and L. Puff. Good. S'bodlikins! I am in a rage that ever a fellow fhou'd upbraid me with great blood in his veins, when, odfheart the best blood in his veins hath run through my bottles.

Lady. My Lord Pride and my Lord Puff gone! 'Come, my dear, the affembly is broke up; let us make hafte away, or we fhall be too late for any other.

2 Lady. With all my heart; for I am heartily fick ' of this.

3 Lady. Come, come, come; away, away!
[Exeunt ladies.

'Mar. Allons, quittons le bourgion.

Col. Sir, you are a fcrub; and if I had not a friendfhip for your fon, I'd fhew you how you ought to treat 'people of fashion. [Exeunt Col. and Marquis. Char. Poor Valentine! how tenderly I feel his mis. fortunes!

Good. Why don't you follow your companions, Sir? Val. Ah! Sir, I am fo fenfible of what I have done, that I could fly into a defert from the apprehenfions of your just wrath; nay, I will, unless you can forgive me. Good. Who are you, Madam, that stay behind the rest your company? There is no more mischief to be done here, fo there is no more business for a fine lady.

of

Char. Sir, I ftay to intreat you to forgive your poor unhappy fon, who will otherwife fink under the weight of your difplcafure.

Good. Ah, Madam, if that be all the business, you may leave this houfe as foon as you please; for him I am determin'd to turn directly out on't.

Char. Then, Sir, I am determin'd to go with him. Be comforted, Valentine, I have fome fortune which my

aunt

aunt cannot prevent me from, and it will make us happy for a while at leaft; and I prefer a year, a month, a day, with the man I love, to a whole ftupid age without

him.

Val. O, my dear love! and I prefer an hour with thee to all that heaven can give me. Oh! I am fo bleft, that fortune cannot make me miferable.

A IR XI

The lafs of Patie's mill.

if

Thus when the tempeft high

Roars dreadful from above,

The conftant turtles fly

Together to the grove
Each spreads its tender wings,

And hovers o'er its mate;
They kifs, they cooe, and fing,
And love in spite of fate.

AIR XII.

My tender heart me long beguil'd,
I now first my passions prov'd;
Had fortune on you ever fmil'd,

I'd not known how well I lov'd.
Bafe paffions, like bafe metals, cold,
With true may feem the fame;

But wou'd you know true love and gold,
Still try them in the flame.

Enter Oldcastle and Mrs. Highman.

Old. Here, Madam; now you may trust your own eyes, you won't believe mine.

Mrs. High. What do I fee! my niece in the very arms of her betrayer, and his father an abettor of the injuflice!Sir, give me leave to tell you, your madness is a poor excufe for this behaviour

Good. Madam, I afk your pardon for what I faid to you to-day. I was impos'd on by a vile wretch, who, I dare fwear, mifreprefented each of us to the other. affure you I am not mad, nor do I believe you fo.

I

Mrs. High. Thou vile wretch, thou difhonour of thy family! How doft thou dare to appear before my face? Char. Madam, I have done nothing to be afham'd of; and I dare appear before any one's face.

2

Good.

Good. Is this young lady a relation of yours?

Mrs. High. She was, before your fon had accomplish'd his base designs upon her.

Char. Madam, you injure him; his defigns on me have been still honourable; nor hath he faid any thing which the most virtuous ears might not have heard.

Val. To-moriow fhall filence your fufpicions on that head.

Mrs. High. What, Mr. Goodall, do you forgive your fon's extravagance?

Good. Is this lady your heirefs?

Mrs. High. I once intended her fo.

Good. Why then, Madam, I like her generous paffion for my fon fo much, that if you will give her a fortune equal to what I fhall fettle on him, I fhall not prevent their happiness.

Mrs. High. Won't you? and I fee fhe is fo entirely his in her heart, that fince he hath not dared to think difhonourably of her, I fhall do all in my power to make it a bargain.

Val. Eternal bieffings on you both! Now, my Charlotte, I am blefs'd indeed.

Old. And pray, Madam, what's to become of me? Mrs. High. That, Sir, I cannot poffibly tell you know I was your friend; but my niece thought fit to difpote of herself another way.

Old. Your niece has behaved like a

-Bodikins! I am

in a passion; and for her fake, I'll never make love to any woman again. I'm refolv'd. [Exit in a pet.

Mrs. High. No imprudent refolution.

Good. I hope, Valentine, you will make the only return in your power to my paternal tenderness in forgiving you ; and let the mifery you so narrowly escaped from your former extravagances be a warning to you for the future.

Val. Sir, was my gratitude to your great goodness infufficient to reclaim me, I am in no danger of engaging in any vice whereby this lady might be a fufferer.

Single, I'd fuffer fate's feverest dart

- Unmov'd; but who can bear the double fmart,
When forrow preys upon the fair one's heart!

EPI

EPILOGU E.

Spoken by Mrs. CLIVE.

A POET should, unless his fate be guest,

Write for each play two Epilogues at least;
For how to empty benches can we say,

"What means this mighty crowding here to-day?"
Or fbou'd the pit with flattery be cramm'd,

How can we fpeak it, when the play is damn'd?

Damn'd, did I say?.

His play is fafe

-he furely need not fear it ;

-when none will come to hear it.

English is now below this learned town ;

None but Italian warblers will

go down.

Though courts were more polite, the English ditty
Cou'd heretofore at least content the city;
That, for Italian now has let us drop;
And Dimi Cara rings through ev'ry shop.

What glorious thoughts must all our neighbours nouri
Of us, where rival operas can flourish!
Let France win all our towns: we need not fear
But Italy will fend her fingers here;
We cannot buy them at a price too dear,
Let us receive them to our peaceful bore,
While in their own the angry cannons roar:
Here they may fing in fafety, we reward 'em ;
Here no Visconti threatens to bombard 'em.

Orpheus drew ftones with his enchanting fong;
Thefe can do more, they draw our gold along.

-But though our angry poets rail in fpite,
Ladies, I own, I think your judgment right:
Satire, perhaps, may wound fome pretty thing;
Thofe foft Italian warblers have no fting;
Though your foft hearts the tuneful charm may win,
You're ftill fecure to find no harm within.
Wifely from thefe rude places you abstain,
Where fatire gives the wounded hearer pain.
'Tis hard to pay them who our faults reveal,
As boys are e forc'd to buy the rods they feel.
No, let 'em ftarve, who dare to laf the age,
And, as you've let the pulpit, leave the stage.

THE

HITHER, in days of yore, from Spain or France,
Came a dread forcerefs; ber name Romance.
O'er Britain's ifle her wayward spells fhe caft,
And common fense in magic chain bound faft.
In mad fublime did each fond lover woo,
And in heroics ran each billet-doux :
High deeds of chivalry their fole delight,
Each fair a maid diftreft, each fwain a knight.
Then might Statira Oroondates fee,
At tilts and tournaments, arm'd cap-a-pee.
She too, on milk-white palfrey, lance in hand,
A dwarf to guard her, pranc'd about the land.
This fiend to quell, bis fword Cervantes drew,
A trufy Spanife blade, Toledo true:
Her talismans and magic wand he broke-
Knights, genii, caftles vanifb'd into smoke.
But now, the dear delight of later years,
The younger fifler of Romance, appears;
VOL. II.

H

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