Act 1 — ACT I. SCENE I.

SCENE, Lord Townly's Apartment.

Lord Townly, solus.

Why did I marry!—Was it not evident, my plain, rational scheme of life was impracticable, with a woman of so different a way of thinking?—Is there one article of it, that she has not broke in upon?—Yes,—let me do her justice—her reputation—That—I have no reason to believe is in question—but then how long her profligate course of pleasures may make her able to keep it—is a shocking question! and her presumption while she keeps it—insupportable! for on the pride of that single virtue she seems to lay it down, as a fundamental point, that the free indulgence of every other vice, this fertile town affords, is the birth-right prerogative of a woman of quality—Amazing! that a creature so warm in the pursuit of her pleasures, should never cast one thought towards her happiness—Thus, while she admits no lover, she thinks it a greater merit still, in her chastity, not to care for her husband; and while she herself is solacing in one continual round of cards and good company, he, poor wretch! is left, at large, to take care of his own contentment——'Tis time, indeed, some care were taken, and speedily there shall be——Yet let me not be rash——Perhaps this disappointment of my heart may make me too impatient; and some tempers when reproached grow more untractable.—Here she comes—Let me be calm a while.

Enter Lady Townly.

Going out so soon after dinner, Madam?

Lady Town. Lard, my Lord! what can I possibly do at home?

Lord Town. What does my sister, Lady Grace, do at home?

Lady Town. Why, that is to me amazing! Have you ever any pleasure at home!

Lord Town. It might be in your power, Madam, I confess, to make it a little more comfortable to me.

Lady Town. Comfortable! and so, my good Lord, you would really have a woman of my rank and spirit stay at home to comfort her husband! Lord! what notions of life some men have!

Lord Town. Don't you think, Madam, some ladies' notions full as extravagant?

Lady Town. Yes, my Lord, when the tame doves live cooped within the penn of your precepts, I do think 'em prodigious indeed!

Lord Town. And when they fly wild about this town, Madam, pray what must the world think of 'em then?

Lady Town. Oh! this world is not so ill-bred as to quarrel with any woman for liking it.

Lord Town. Nor am I, Madam, a husband so well-bred, as to bear my wife's being so fond of it; in short, the life you lead, Madam——

Lady Town. Is, to me, the pleasantest life in the world.

Lord Town. I should not dispute your taste, Madam, if a woman had a right to please nobody but herself.

Lady Town. Why, whom would you have her please?

Lord Town. Sometimes her husband.

Lady Town. And don't you think a husband under the same obligation?

Lord Town. Certainly.

Lady Town. Why then we are agreed, my Lord—For if I never go abroad 'till I am weary of being at home——which you know is the case——is it not equally reasonable, not to come home till one's weary of being abroad!

Lord Town. If this be your rule of life, Madam, 'tis time to ask you one serious question?

Lady Town. Don't let it be long a coming then——for I am in haste.

Lord Town. Madam, when I am serious, I expect a serious answer.

Lady Town. Before I know the question?

Lord Town. Psha——have I power, Madam, to make you serious by intreaty?

Lady Town. You have.

Lord Town. And you promise to answer me sincerely?

Lady Town. Sincerely.

Lord Town. Now then recollect your thoughts, and tell me seriously, Why you married me?

Lady Town. You insist upon truth, you say?

Lord Town. I think I have a right to it.

Lady Town. Why then, my Lord, to give you, at once, a proof of my obedience and sincerity——I think——I married—to take off that restraint, that lay upon my pleasures, while I was a single woman.

Lord Town. How, Madam! is any woman under less restraint after marriage, than before it?

Lady Town. O my Lord! my Lord! they are quite different creatures! Wives have infinite liberties in life, that would be terrible in an unmarried woman to take.

Lord Town. Name one.

Lady Town. Fifty, if you please!—--to begin then, in the morning——A married woman may have men at her toilet, invite them to dinner, appoint them a party, in a stage box at the play; ingross the conversation there, call 'em by their christian names; talk louder than the players;——From thence jaunt into the city——take a frolicksome supper at an India house——perhaps in her gaieté de cœur toast a pretty fellow—Then clatter again to this end of the town, break with the morning, into an assembly, croud to the hazard-table, throw a familiar levant upon some sharp lurching man of quality, and if he demands his money, turn it off with a loud laugh, and cry——you'll owe it him to vex him! ha! ha!

Lord Town. Prodigious!

[Aside.

Lady Town. These now, my Lord, are some few of the many modish amusements, that distinguish the privilege of a wife, from that of a single woman.

Lord Town. Death! Madam, what law has made these liberties less scandalous in a wife, than in an unmarried woman?

Lady Town. Why, the strongest law in the world, custom——custom time out of mind, my Lord.

Lord Town. Custom, Madam, is the law of fools: but it shall never govern me.

Lady Town. Nay, then, my Lord, 'tis time for me to observe the laws of prudence.

Lord Town. I wish I could see an instance of it.

Lady Town. You shall have one this moment, my Lord; for I think, when a man begins to lose his temper at home; if a woman has any prudence, why——she'll go abroad 'till he comes to himself again.

[Going.

Lord Town. Hold, Madam—I am amazed, you are not more uneasy at the life we lead! You don't want sense; and yet seem void of all humanity: for, with a blush I say it, I think, I have not wanted love.

Lady Town. Oh! don't say that, my Lord, if you suppose I have my senses.

Lord Town. What is it I have done to you? what can you complain of?

Lady Town.. Oh! nothing in the least: 'Tis true, you have heard me say; I have owed my Lord Lurcher an hundred pounds these three weeks——but what then?——a husband is not liable to his wife's debts of honour, you know,——and if a silly woman will be uneasy about money she can't be sued for, what's that to him? as long as he loves her, to be sure she can have nothing to complain of.

Lord Town. By heaven, if my whole fortune thrown into your lap, could make you delight in the chearful duties of a wife, I should think myself a gainer by the purchase.

Lady Town. That is, my Lord, I might receive your whole estate, provided you were sure I would not spend a shilling of it.

Lord Town. No, Madam; were I master of your heart, your pleasures would be mine; but different as they are, I'll feed even your follies to deserve it——Perhaps you may have some other trifling debts of honour abroad that keep you out of humour at home——at least it shall not be my fault, if I have not more of your company——There, there's a bill of five hundred——and now, Madam——

Lady Town. And now, my Lord, down to the ground I thank you——Now am I convinc'd, were I weak enough to love this man, I should never get a single guinea from him.

[Aside.

Lord Town. If it be no offence, Madam——

Lady Town. Say what you please, my Lord; I am in that harmony of spirits, it is impossible to put me out of humour.

Lord Town. How long then in reason do you think that sum ought to last you?

Lady Town. Oh, my dear, dear Lord! now you have spoiled all again! How is it possible I should answer for an event, that so utterly depends upon fortune? But to shew you that I am more inclined to get money, than to throw it away——I have a strong prepossession, that with this five hundred, I shall win five thousand.

Lord Town. Madam, if you were to win ten thousand, it would be no satisfaction to me.

Lady Town. O! the churl! ten thousand! what! not so much as wish I might win ten thousand!—--Ten thousand! O! the charming sum! what infinite pretty things might a woman of spirit do, with ten thousand guineas! O' my conscience, if she were a woman of true spirit—she—she might lose 'em all again.

Lord Town. And I had rather it should be so, Madam; provided I could be sure, that were the last you would lose.

Lady Town. Well, my Lord, to let you see I design to play all the good housewife I can; I am now going to a party of Quadrille, only to piddle with a little of it at poor two guineas a fish, with the Dutchess of Quiteright.

[Exit Lady Townly.

Lord Town. Insensible creature! neither reproaches, or indulgence, kindness or severity, can wake her to the least reflection! Continual licence has lull'd her into such a lethargy of care, that she speaks of her excesses with the same easy confidence, as if they were so many virtues. What a turn has her head taken?——But how to cure it——I am afraid the physic must be strong that reaches her——Lenitives, I see, are to no purpose——take my friend's opinion——Manly will speak freely——my sister with tenderness to both sides. They know my case——I'll talk with 'em.

Enter a Servant.

Serv. Mr. Manly, my Lord has sent to know, if your Lordship was at home.

Lord Town. They did not deny me?

Serv. No, my Lord.

Lord Town. Very well; step up to my sister, and say, I desire to speak with her.

Serv. Lady Grace is here, my Lord.

[Exit Serv.

Enter Lady Grace.

Lord Town. So, Lady fair; what pretty weapon have you been killing your time with!

Lady Grace. A huge folio that has almost killed me—I think I have half read my eyes out.

Lord Town. O! you should not pore so much just after dinner, child.

Lady Grace. That's true, but any body's thoughts are better than always one's own, you know.

Lord Town. Who's there?

Enter Servant.

Leave word at the door I am at home to nobody but Mr. Manly.

Lady Grace. And why is he excepted, pray, my Lord?

Lord Town. I hope, Madam, you have no objection to his company?

Lady Grace. Your particular orders upon my being here, look, indeed, as if you thought I had not.

Lord Town. And your Ladyship's enquiry into the reason of those orders, shews, at least, it was not a matter indifferent to you!

Lady Grace. Lord! you make the oddest constructions, brother!

Lord Town. Look you my grave Lady Grace——in one serious word—I wish you had him.

Lady Grace. I can't help that.

Lord Town. Ha! you can't help it! ha! ha! The flat simplicity of that reply was admirable!

Lady Grace. Pooh! you teize one, brother!

Lord Town. Come, I beg pardon, child——this is not a point, I grant you, to trifle upon; therefore, I hope you'll give me leave to be serious.

Lady Grace. If you desire it, brother! though upon my word, as to Mr. Manly's having any serious thoughts of me—I know nothing of it.

Lord Town. Well——there's nothing wrong, in your making a doubt of it——But, in short, I find, by his conversation of late, that he has been looking round the world for a wife; and if you were to look round the world for a husband, he's the first man I would give to you.

Lady Grace. Then, whenever he makes me an offer, brother, I will certainly tell you of it.

Lord Town. O! that's the last thing he'll do; he'll never make you an offer, 'till he's pretty sure it won't be refus'd.

Lady Grace. Now you make me curious. Pray! did he ever make an offer of that kind to you?

Lord Town. Not directly; but that imports nothing; he is a man too well acquainted with the female world, to be brought into a high opinion of any one woman, without some well examined proof of her merit: Yet I have reason to believe, that your good sense, your turn of mind, and your way of life, have brought him to so favourable a one of you, that a few days will reduce him to talk plainly to me: Which as yet, (notwithstanding our friendship) I have neither declin'd nor encouraged him to.

Lady Grace. I am mighty glad we are so near in our way of thinking: For, to tell you the truth, he is much upon the same terms with me: You know he has a satirical turn; but never lashes any folly, without giving due encomiums to its opposite virtue: and upon such occasions, he is sometimes particular, in turning his compliments upon me, which I don't receive, with any reserve, lest he should imagine I take them to myself.

Lord Town. You are right, child, when a man of merit makes his addresses: good sense may give him an answer, without scorn, or coquetry.

Lady Grace. Hush! he's here——

Enter Mr. Manly.

Man. My Lord! your most obedient.

Lord Town. Dear Manly! yours——I was thinking to send to you.

Man. Then, I am glad I am here, my Lord——Lady Grace, I kiss your hands!—--What, only you two! How many visits may a man make, before he falls into such unfashionable company? A brother and sister soberly sitting at home, when the whole town is a gadding! I question if there is so particular a tête à tête, again, in the whole parish of St. James's.

Lady Grace. Fy! fy! Mr. Manly; how censorious you are!

Man. I had not made the reflexion, Madam, but that I saw you an exception to it—Where's my lady?

Lord Town. That I believe is impossible to guess.

Man. Then I won't try, my Lord——

Lord Town. But 'tis probable I may hear of her by that time I am four or five hours in bed.

Man. Now, if that were my case, I believe I should——But I beg pardon, my Lord.

Lord Town. Indeed, Sir, you shall not: You will oblige me, if you speak out; for it was upon this head, I wanted to see you.

Man. Why, then, my Lord, since you oblige me to proceed——if that were my case——I believe I should certainly sleep in another house.

Lady Grace. How do you mean?

Man. Only a compliment, Madam.

Lady Grace. A compliment!

Man. Yes, Madam, in rather turning myself out of doors than her.

Lady Grace. Don't you think that would be going too far?

Man. I don't know but it might, Madam; for in strict justice, I think she ought rather to go than I.

Lady Grace. This is new doctrine, Mr. Manly.

Man. As old, Madam, as Love, Honour, and Obey! When a woman will stop at nothing that's wrong, why should a man balance any thing that's right.

Lady Grace. Bless me, but this is fomenting things—

Man. Fomentations, Madam, are sometimes necessary to dispel rumours; tho' I don't directly advise my Lord to do this——This is only what, upon the same provocation, I would do myself.

Lady Grace. Ay! ay! You would do! Batchelors wives, indeed, are finely governed.

Man. If the married mens were as well——I am apt to think we should not see so many mutual plagues taking the air, in separate coaches!

Lady Grace. Well! but suppose it was your own case; would you part with a wife because she now and then stays out, in the best company?

Lord Town. Well said, Lady Grace! come, stand up for the privilege of your sex! This is like to be a warm debate! I shall edify.

Man. Madam, I think a wife, after midnight, has no occasion to be in better company than her husband; and that frequent unreasonable hours make the best company——the worst company she can fall into.

Lady Grace. But if people of condition are to keep company with one another; how is it possible to be done unless one conforms to their hours?

Man. I can't find that any woman's good breeding obliges her to conform to other people's vices.

Lord Town. I doubt, child, we are got a little on the wrong side of the question.

Lady Grace. Why so, my Lord? I can't think the case so bad, as Mr. Manly states it——People of quality are not ty'd down to the rules of those, who have their fortunes to make.

Man. No people, Madam, are above being ty'd down to some rules, that have fortunes to lose.

Lady Grace. Pooh! I'm sure, if you were to take my side of the argument, you would be able to say something more for it.

Lord Town. Well, what say you to that, Manly?

Man. Why, 'troth, my Lord, I have something to say.

Lady Grace. Ay! that I would be glad to hear, now!

Lord Town. Out with it!

Man. Then in one word, this, my Lord, I have often thought that the mis-conduct of my Lady has, in a great measure, been owing to your Lordship's treatment of her.

Lady Grace. Bless me!

Lord Town. My treatment!

Man. Ay, my Lord, you so idoliz'd her before marriage, that you even indulg'd her like a mistress, after it; In short, you continued the lover, when you should have taken up the husband.

Lady Grace. O frightful! this is worse than t'other! can a husband love a wife too well!

Man. As easy, Madam, as a wife may love her husband too little.

Lord Town. So! you two are never like to agree, I find.

Lady Grace. Don't be positive, brother;——I am afraid we are both of a mind already. [Aside.] And do you, at this rate, ever intend to be married, Mr. Manly?

Man. Never, Madam; 'till I can meet a woman that likes my doctrine.

Lady Grace. 'Tis pity but your mistress should hear it.

Man. Pity me, Madam, when I marry the woman that won't hear it.

Lady Grace. I think, at least, he can't say that's me.

[Aside.

Man. And so, my Lord, by giving her more power than was needful, she has none where she wants it; having such entire possession of you, she is not mistress of herself! And, mercy on us! how many fine womens heads have been turn'd upon the same occasion!

Lord Town. O Manly! 'tis too true! there's the source of my disquiet! she knows and has abused her power: Nay, I am still so weak (with shame I speak it) 'tis not an hour ago, that in the midst of my impatience—I gave her another bill for five hundred to throw away.

Man. Well——my Lord! to let you see I am sometimes upon the side of good nature, I won't absolutely blame you; for the greater your indulgence, the more you have to reproach her with.

Lady Grace. Ay, Mr. Manly! here now, I begin to come in with you: Who knows, my Lord, you may have a good account of your kindness!

Man. That, I am afraid, we had not best depend upon: But since you have had so much patience, my Lord, even go on with it a day or two more; and upon her Ladyship's next sally, be a little rounder in your expostulation; if that don't work—drop her some cool hints of a determin'd reformation, and leave her——to breakfast upon 'em.

Lord Town. You are perfectly right! how valuable is a friend, in our anxiety!

Man. Therefore to divert that, my Lord, I beg for the present, we may call another cause.

Lady Grace. Ay, for goodness sake let's have done with this.

Lord Town. With all my heart.

Lady Grace. Have you no news abroad, Mr. Manly?

Man. A propos——I have some, Madam; and I believe, my Lord, as extraordinary in its kind——

Lord Town. Pray let's have it.

Man. Do you know that your country neighbour, and my wise kinsman, Sir Francis Wronghead, is coming to town with his whole family?

Lord Town. The fool! what can be his business here?

Man. Oh! of the last importance, I'll assure you—No less than the business of the nation.

Lord Town. Explain!

Man. He has carried his election——against Sir John Worthland.

Lord Town. The Deuce! what! for——for——

Man. The famous borough of Guzzledown!

Lord Town. A proper representative, indeed.

Lady Grace. Pray, Mr. Manly, don't I know him?

Man. You have din'd with him, Madam, when I was last down with my Lord, at Bellmont.

Lady Grace. Was not that he that got a little merry before dinner, and overset the tea-table, in making his compliments to my Lady?

Man. The same.

Lady Grace. Pray what are his circumstances? I know but very little of him.

Man. Then he is worth your knowing, I can tell you, Madam. His estate, if clear, I believe, might be a good two thousand pounds a year: Though as it was left him, saddled with two jointures, and two weighty mortgages upon it, there is no saying what it is——But that he might be sure never to mend it, he married a profuse young hussy, for love, without a penny of money! Thus having, like his brave ancestors, provided heirs for the family (for his dove breeds like a tame pigeon) he now finds children and interest-money make such a bawling about his ears, that at last he has taken the friendly advice of his kinsman, the good Lord Danglecourt, to run his estate two thousand pounds more in debt, to put the whole management of what's left into Paul Pillage's hands, that he may be at leisure himself to retrieve his affairs by being a parliament-man.

Lord Town. A most admirable scheme, indeed!

Man. And with this politic prospect, he's now upon his journey to London——

Lord Town. What can it end in?

Man. Pooh! a journey into the country again.

Lord Town. And do you think he'll stir, 'till his money's gone? or at least 'till the session is over?

Man. If my intelligence is right, my Lord, he won't sit long enough to give his vote for a turnpike.

Lord Town. How so?

Man. O! a bitter business! he had scarce a vote, in the whole town, beside the returning officer: Sir John will certainly have it heard at the bar of the house, and send him about his business again.

Lord Town. Then he has made a fine business of it indeed.

Man. Which, as far as my little interest will go, shall be done in as few days as possible.

Lady Grace. But why would you ruin the poor gentleman's fortune, Mr. Manly?

Man. No, Madam, I would only spoil his project, to save his fortune.

Lady Grace. How are you concern'd enough, to do either?

Man. Why, I have some obligations to the family, Madam: I enjoy at this time a pretty estate, which Sir Francis was heir at law to: But——by his being a booby, the last will of an obstinate old uncle gave it to me.

Enter a Servant.

Serv. [To Man.] Sir, here's one of your servants from your house, desires to speak with you.

Man. Will you give him leave to come in, my Lord?

Lord Town. Sir——the ceremony's of your own making.

Enter Manly's Servant.

Man. Well, James! what's the matter now?

James. Sir, here's John Moody's just come to town; he says Sir Francis, and all the family, will be here to-night, and is in a great hurry to speak with you.

Man. Where is he?

James. At our house, Sir: He has been gaping and stumping about the streets, in his dirty boots, and asking every one he meets if they can tell him where he may have a good lodging for a parliament man, 'till he can hire a handsome whole house for himself and family, for the winter.

Man. I am afraid, my Lord, I must wait upon Mr. Moody.

Lord Town. Pr'ythee! let's have him here: he will divert us.

Man. O my Lord! he's such a cub! Not but he's so near common sense, that he passes for a wit in the family.

Lady Grace. I beg of all things we may have him: I am in love with Nature, let her dress be never so homely.

Man. Then desire him to come hither, James.

[Exit James.

Lady Grace. Pray what may be Mr. Moody's post?

Man. Oh! his Maître d' Hôtel, his butler, his bailiff, his hind, his huntsman; and sometimes——his companion.

Lord Town. It runs in my head, that the moment this Knight has set him down in the house, he will get up, to give them the earliest proof of what importance he is to the public, in his own country.

Man. Yes, and when they have heard him, he will find, that his utmost importance stands valued at——sometimes being invited to dinner.

Lady Grace. And her Ladyship will make as considerable a figure, in her sphere too.

Man. That you may depend upon; for (if I don't mistake) she has ten times more of the jade in her, than she yet knows of; and she will so improve in this rich soil, in a month, that she will visit all the ladies that will let her into their houses; and run in debt to all the shopkeepers that will let her into their books: In short, before her important spouse has made five pounds by his eloquence at Westminster, she will have lost five hundred at dice and Quadrille, in the parish of St. James's.

Lord Town. So that, by that time he is declared unduly elected, a swarm of duns will be ready for their money; and his worship——will be ready for a jail.

Man. Yes, yes, that I reckon will close the account of this hopeful journey to London——But see, here comes the fore-horse of the team!

Enter John Moody.

Oh! Honest John!

John Moody. Ad's waunds and heart, Measter Manly! I'm glad I ha' fun ye. Lawd! lawd! give me a buss! Why that's friendly naw! Flesh! I thought we should never ha' got hither! Well! and how d'ye do, Measter?——Good lack! I beg pardon for my bauldness——I did not see 'at his Honour was here.

Lord Town. Mr. Moody, your servant; I am glad to see you in London. I hope all the family is well.

John Moody. Thanks be praised your honour, they are in pretty good heart; thof' we have had a power of crosses upo' the road.

Lady Grace. I hope my Lady has had no hurt, Mr. Moody.

John Moody. Noa, an't please your Ladyship, she was never in better humour: There's money enough stirring now.

Man. What has been the matter, John?

John Moody. Why, we came up in such a hurry, you mun think, that our tackle was not so tight as it should be.

Man. Come, tell us all——Pray how do they travel?

John Moody. Why, i'the awld coach, Measter, and 'cause my lady loves to do things handsom, to be sure, she would have a couple of cart-horses clapt to th' four old geldings, that neighbours might see she went up to London in her coach and six! And so Giles Joulter, the ploughman, rides postillion!

Man. Very well! the journey sets out as it should do. [Aside.] What, do they bring all the children with them too?

John Moody. Noa, noa, only the younk squoire, and Miss Jenny. The other foive are all out at board, at half a crown a head, a week, with Joan Growse at Smoke-Dunghill farm.

Man. Good again! a right English academy for younger children!

John Moody. Anon, Sir.

[Not understanding him.

Lady Grace. Poor souls! What will become of 'em?

John Moody. Nay, nay, for that matter, Madam, they are in very good hands: Joan loves 'em as thof' they were all her own: For she was wet-nurse to every mother's babe of 'um——Ay, ay, they'll ne'er want for a full belly there!

Lady Grace. What simplicity!

Man. The Lud 'a mercy on all good folks! what work will these people make!

[Holding up his hands.

Lord Town. And when do you expect him here, John?

John Moody. Why we were in hopes to ha' come yesterday, an' it had no' been, that th' owld wheaze-belly horse tir'd: And then we were so cruelly loaden, that the two fore wheels came crash! down at once, in Waggon-Rut Lane, and there we lost four hours 'fore we could set things to rights again.

Man. So they bring all their baggage with the coach then?

John Moody. Ay, ay, and good store on't there is——Why my lady's geer alone were as much as fill'd four portmantel trunks, besides the great deal-box, that heavy Ralph and the monkey sit upon behind.

Lord Town, Lady Grace, and Man. Ha! ha, ha!

Lady Grace. Well, Mr. Moody, and pray how many are they within the coach?

John Moody. Why there's my Lady and his Worship; and the younk squoire, and Miss Jenny, and the fat lap-dog, and my lady's maid, Mrs. Handy, and Doll Tripe the cook, that's all——Only Doll puked a little with riding backward, so they hoisted her into the coach-box—and then her stomach was easy.

Lady Grace. Oh! I see 'em! I see 'em go by me. Ah! ha!

[Laughing.

John Mood. Then you mun think, measter, there was some stowage for the belly, as well as th' back too; such cargoes of plumb-cake, and baskets of tongues, and biscuits and cheese, and cold boil'd beef——And then in case of sickness, bottles of cherry-brandy, plague-water, sack, tent and strong-beer so plenty as made th' owld coach crack again! Mercy upon them! and send 'em all well to town, I say.

Man. Ay! And well out on't again, John.

John Mood. Ods bud! measter, you're a wise mon; and for that matter, so am I—Whoam's whoam, I say: I'm sure we got but little good, e'er sin' we turn'd our backs on't. Nothing but mischief! Some Devil's trick or other plagued us, aw th' dey lung! Crack goes one thing: Bawnce! goes another. Woa, says Roger——Then souse! we are all set fast in a slough, Whaw! cries Miss! Scream go the maids! and bawl! just as thof' they were stuck! and so, mercy on us! this was the trade from morning to night. But my Lady was in such a murrain haste to be here, that set out she would, thof' I told her it was Childermas day.

Man. These ladies, these ladies, John——

John Mood. Ah, measter, I ha' seen a little of 'em; and I find that the best——when she's mended, won't ha' much goodness to spare.

Lord Town. Well said, John. Ha! ha!

Man. I hope at least that you and your good woman agree still.

John Mood. Ay! ay! much of a muchness. Bridget sticks to me: Tho' as for her goodness—why, she was willing to come to London too——But hawld a bit! Noa, noa, says I, there may be mischief enough done without you.

Man. Why that was bravely spoken, John, and like a man.

John Mood. Ah, weast heart, were Measter but hawf the Mon that I am——Ods wookers! thof' he'll speak stawtly too sometimes——But then he conno' hawld it——no! he conno' hawld it.

Lord Town. Lady Grace.

Man. Ha! ha! ha!

John Mood. Ods flesh! But I mun hye me whoam! th' Coach will be coming every hour naw——but Measter charg'd me to find your Worship out; for he has hugey business with you; and will certainly wait upon you, by that time he can put on a clean neckcloth.

Man. O John! I'll wait upon him.

John Mood. Why you wonno' be so kind, wull ye?

Man. If you'll tell me where you lodge.

John Mood. Just i'th' street next to where your Worship dwells, the sign of the Golden Ball——It's Gold all over; where they sell ribbands and flappits, and other sort of geer for Gentlewomen.

Man. A Milliner's?

John Mood. Ay, ay, one Mrs. Motherly: Waunds! she has a couple of clever girls there stitching i'th' foreroom.

Man. Yes, yes, she's a woman of good business, no doubt on't——Who recommended that house to you, John?

John Mood. The greatest good fortune in the world, sure! For as I was gaping about streets, who should look out of the window there, but the fine Gentleman, that was always riding by our Coach side, at York Races——Count——Basset; ay, that's he.

Man. Basset? Oh, I remember; I know him by sight.

John Mood. Well! to be sure, as civil a Gentleman, to see to——

Man. As any sharper in town.

[Aside.

John Mood. At York, he us'd to breakfast with my Lady every morning.

Man. Yes, yes, and I suppose her Ladyship will return his compliment here in town.

[Aside.

John Mood. Well, Measter——

Lord Town. My Service to Sir Francis and my Lady, John.

Lady Grace. And mine, pray Mr. Moody.

John Mood. Ay, your honors, they'll be proud on't, I dare say.

Man. I'll bring my compliments myself: So, honest John——

John Mood. Dear Measter Manly! the goodness of goodness bless and preserve you.

[Exit John Moody.

Lord Town. What a natural creature 'tis!

Lady Grace. Well! I can't but think John, in a wet afternoon in the country, must be very good company.

Lord Town. O! the Tramontane! If this were known at half the quadrille-tables in town, they would lay down their cards to laugh at you.

Lady Grace. And the minute they took them up again they would do the same at the losers——But to let you see, that I think good company may sometimes want cards to keep them together: what think you if we three sat soberly down, to kill an hour at Ombre?

Man. I shall be too hard for you, Madam.

Lady Grace. No matter! I shall have as much advantage of my Lord, as you have of me.

Lord Town. Say you so, Madam? Have at you then! Here! get the ombre-table, and cards.

[Exit Lord Townly.

Lady Grace. Come, Mr. Manly——I know you don't forgive me now!

Man. I don't know whether I ought to forgive your thinking so, Madam. Where do you imagine I could pass my time so agreeably?

Lady Grace. I'm sorry my Lord is not here to take share of the compliment——But he'll wonder what's become of us!

Man. I'll follow in a moment, Madam——

[Exit Lady Grace.

It must be so——she sees I love her——yet with what unoffending decency she avoids an explanation! How amiable is every hour of her conduct? What a vile opinion have I had of the whole sex, for these ten years past, which this sensible creature has recovered in less than one? Such a companion, sure, might compensate all the irksome disappointments, that pride, folly and falshood ever gave me!

[Exit.