Act 2 — ACT II. SCENE I.

SCENE, Mrs. Motherly's House.

Enter Count Basset and Mrs. Motherly.

Count Bas. I tell you there is not such a family in England, for you! do you think I would have gone out of your lodgings for any body, that was not sure to make you easy for the winter?

Moth. Nay, I see nothing against it, Sir, but the gentleman's being a parliament man: and when people may, as it were, think one impertinent, or be out of humour, you know, when a body comes to ask for one's own——

Count Bas. Psha! Pr'ythee never trouble thy head—His pay is as good as the bank!—--Why, he has above two thousand a year!

Moth. Alas-a-day! that's nothing: Your people of ten thousand a year, have ten thousand things to do with it.

Count Bas. Nay, if you are afraid of being out of your money; what do you think of going a little with me, Mrs. Motherly?

Moth. As how?

Count Bas. Why I have a game in my head, in which, if you'll croup me, that is, help me to play it, you shall go five hundred to nothing.

Moth. Say you so?——Why then, I go, Sir——and now pray let's see your game.

Count Bas. Look you, in one word my cards lie thus—When I was down this summer at York, I happened to lodge in the same house with this Knight's lady, that's now coming to lodge with you.

Moth. Did you so, Sir?

Count Bas. And sometimes had the honour to breakfast, and pass an idle hour with her——

Moth. Very good; and here I suppose you would have the impudence to sup, and be busy with her.

Count Bas. Psha! pr'ythee hear me!

Moth. Is this your game? I would not give sixpence for it! What, you have a passion for her pin-money——no, no, country ladies are not so flush of it.

Count Bas. Nay, if you won't have patience——

Moth. One had need of a great deal, I am sure, to hear you talk at this rate! Is this your way of making my poor Myrtilla easy?

Count Bas. Death! I shall do it still, if the woman will but let me speak——

Moth. Had not you a letter from her this morning?

Count Bas. I have it here in my pocket—this is it.

[Shews it, and puts it up again.

Moth. Ay, but I don't find you have made any answer to it.

Count Bas. How the devil can I, if you won't hear me!

Moth. What! hear you talk of another woman?

Count Bas. O lud! O lud! I tell you, I'll make her fortune——'Ounds! I'll marry her.

Moth. A likely matter! if you would not do it when she was a maid, your stomach is not so sharp set now, I presume.

Count Bas. Hey day! why your blood begins to turn, my dear! the devil! you did not think I proposed to marry her myself!

Moth. If you don't, who the devil do you think will marry her?

Count Bas. Why, a fool——

Moth. Humph! there may be sense in that——

Count Bas. Very good——One for t'other then; if I can help her to a husband, why should not you come into my scheme of helping me to a wife?

Moth. Your pardon, Sir! ay! ay! in an honourable affair, you know you may command me——but pray where is this blessed wife and husband to be had?

Count Bas. Now have a little patience——You must know then, this country Knight, and his lady, bring up, in the coach with them, their eldest son and a daughter, to teach them to——wash their faces, and turn their toes out.

Moth. Good!

Count Bas. The son is an unlick'd whelp, about sixteen, just taken from school; and begins to hanker after every wench in the family: The daughter much of the same age, a pert, forward hussy, who having eight thousand pound left her by an old doating grandmother, seems to have a devilish mind to be doing in her way too.

Moth. And your design is to put her into business for life?

Count Bas. Look you, in short, Mrs. Motherly, we gentlemen whose occasional chariots roll, only, upon the four aces, are liable sometimes you know, to have a wheel out of order: Which, I confess, is so much my case at present, that my dapple greys are reduced to a pair of ambling chairmen: Now, if with your assistance, I can whip up this young jade into a hackney-coach, I may chance, in a day or two after, to carry her in my own chariot en famille, to an opera. Now what do you say to me?

Moth. Why, I shall not sleep—for thinking of it. But how will you prevent the family's smoaking your design?

Count Bas. By renewing my addresses to the mother.

Moth. And how will the daughter like that, think you?

Count Bas. Very well——whilst it covers her own affair.

Moth. That's true——it must do——but, as you say, one for t'other, Sir, I stick to that—if you don't do my niece's business with the son, I'll blow you with the daughter, depend upon't.

Count Bas. It's a bett—pay as we go, I tell you, and the five hundred shall be staked in a third hand.

Moth. That's honest——But here comes my niece! shall we let her into the secret?

Count Bas. Time enough! may be I may touch upon it.

Enter Myrtilla.

Moth. So, niece, are all the rooms done out, and the beds sheeted?

Myr. Yes, Madam, but Mr. Moody tells us the lady always burns wax, in her own chamber, and we have none in the house.

Moth. Odso! then I must beg your pardon, Count; this is a busy time, you know.

[Exit Mrs. Motherly.

Count Bas. Myrtilla! how dost do, child?

Myr. As well as a losing gamester can.

Count Bas. Why, what have you lost?

Myr. What I shall never recover; and what's worse, you that have won it, don't seem to be much the better for't.

Count Bas. Why child, dost thou ever see any body overjoyed for winning a deep stake, six months after 'tis over?

Myr. Would I had never play'd for it!

Count Bas. Psha! Hang these melancholy thoughts; we may be friends still.

Myr. Dull ones.

Count Bas. Useful ones perhaps——suppose I should help thee to a good husband?

Myr. I suppose you think any one good enough that will take me off your hands.

Count Bas. What do you think of the young country 'Squire, the heir of the family, that's coming to lodge here?

Myr. How should I know what to think of him?

Count Bas. Nay, I only give you the hint, child; it may be worth your while, at least, to look about you—Hark! what bustle's that without.

Enter Mrs. Motherly in haste.

Moth. Sir! Sir! the gentleman's coach is at the door! they are all come!

Count Bas. What, already?

Moth. They are just getting out!—--won't you step and lead in my Lady? Do you be in the way, Niece! I must run and receive them.

[Exit Mrs. Motherly.

Count Bas. And think of what I told you.

[Exit Count.

Myr. Ay! ay! you have left me enough to think of, as long as I live——a faithless fellow! I'm sure I have been true to him; and for that very reason, he wants to be rid of me: But while women are weak, men will be rogues! And for a bane to both their joys and ours; when our vanity indulges them, in such innocent favours as make them adore us; we can never be well, 'till we grant them the very one, that puts an end to their devotion—But here comes my aunt, and the company.

Mrs. Motherly returns shewing in Lady Wronghead, led by Count Basset.

Moth. If your Ladyship pleases to walk into this parlour, Madam, only for the present, 'till your servants have got all your things in.

Lady Wrong. Well! dear Sir, this is so infinitely obliging!—I protest it gives me pain tho' to turn you out of your lodging thus!

Count Bas. No trouble in the least, Madam; we single fellows are soon mov'd; besides, Mrs. Motherly's my old acquaintance, and I could not be her hindrance.

Moth. The Count is so well bred, Madam, I dare say he would do a great deal more, to accommodate your Ladyship.

Lady Wrong. O dear Madam!—--A good well bred sort of woman.

[Apart to the Count.

Count Bas. O Madam, she is very much among people of quality, she is seldom without them, in her house.

Lady Wrong. Are there a good many people of quality in this street, Mrs. Motherly?

Moth. Now your Ladyship is here, Madam, I don't believe there is a house without them.

Lady Wrong. I am mighty glad of that: for really I think people of quality should always live among one another.

Count Bas. 'Tis what one would choose indeed, Madam.

Lady Wrong. Bless me! but where are the children all this while?

Moth. Sir Francis, Madam, I believe is taking care of them.

Sir Fran. [Within.] John Moody! stay you by the coach, and see all our things out—Come, children.

Moth. Here they are, Madam.

Enter Sir Francis, Squire Richard, and Miss Jenny.

Sir Fran. Well, Count! I mun say it, this was koynd, indeed!

Count Bas. Sir Francis! give me leave to bid you welcome to London.

Sir Fran. Psha! how dost do, mon——waunds, I'm glad to see thee! A good sort of a house this!

Count Bas. Is not that master Richard?

Sir Fran. Ey! ey! that's young hopeful——why dost not baw, Dick?

Squ. Rich. So I do, feyther.

Count Bas. Sir I'm glad to see you——I protest Mrs. Jane is grown so, I should not have known her.

Sir Fran. Come forward, Jenny.

Jenny. Sure, papa, do you think I don't know how to behave myself?

Count Bas. If I have permission to approach her, Sir Francis.

Jenny. Lord, Sir, I'm in such a frightful pickle——

[Salute.

Count Bas. Every dress that's proper must become you, Madam,——you have been a long journey.

Jenny. I hope you will see me in a better, to-morrow, Sir.

[Lady Wrong. whispers Mrs. Moth. pointing to Myrtilla.

Moth. Only a niece of mine, Madam, that lives with me: she will be proud to give your Ladyship any assistance in her power.

Lady Wrong. A pretty sort of a woman.——Jenny, you two must be acquainted.

Jenny. O, Mama! I am never strange, in a strange place!

[Salutes Myrtilla.

Myr. You do me a great deal of honour, Madam——Madam, your Ladyship's welcome to London.

Jenny. Mama! I like her prodigiously! she call'd me my Ladyship.

Squ. Rich. Pray mother, mayn't I be acquainted with her too!

Lady Wrong. You, you clown! stay 'till you learn a little more breeding first.

Sir Fran. Od's heart! my Lady Wronghead! why do you balk the lad? how should he ever learn breeding, if he does not put himself forward?

Squ. Rich. Why ay, feather, does moather think 'at I'd be uncivil to her?

Myr. Master has so much good-humour, Madam, he would soon gain upon any body.

[He kisses Myr.

Squ. Rich. Lo' you there, Moather: and you would but be quiet, she and I should do well enough.

Lady Wrong. Why, how now, sirrah! Boys must not be so familiar.

Squ. Rich. Why, an' I know nobody, haw the murrain mun I pass my time here, in a strange place? Naw you and I and sister, forsooth, sometimes in an afternoon moy play at one and thirty bone-ace, purely.

Jenny. Speak for yourself, Sir! D'ye think I play at such clownish games?

Squ. Rich. Why and you woant yo' ma' let it aloane; then she, and I, mayhap, will have a bawt at All-fours, without you.

Sir Fran. Noa! Noa! Dick, that won't do neither; you mun learn to make one at Ombre, here, Child.

Myr. If Master pleases, I'll shew it him.

Squ. Rich. What! the Humber! Hoy day! why does our River run to this Tawn, Feather?

Sir Fran. Pooh! you silly Tony! Ombre is a geam at cards, that the better sort of people play three together at.

Squ. Rich. Nay the moare the merrier, I say; but Sister is always so cross grain'd——

Jenny. Lord! this Boy is enough to deaf people——and one has really been stuft up in a Coach so long, that——Pray Madam——could not I get a little powder for my hair?

Myr. If you please to come along with me, Madam.

[Exeunt Myr. and Jenny.

Squ. Rich. What, has Sister ta'en her away naw! mess, I'll go and have a little game with 'em.

[Ex. after them.

Lady Wrong. Well, Count, I hope you won't so far change your lodgings, but you will come, and be at home here sometimes?

Sir Fran. Ay, ay! pr'ythee come and take a bit of mutton with us, naw and tan, when thouh'st nowght to do.

Count Bas. Well, Sir Francis, you shall find I'll make but very little ceremony.

Sir Fran. Why ay naw, that's hearty!

Moth. Will your Ladyship please to refresh yourself, with a dish of tea, after your fatigue? I think I have pretty good.

Lady Wrong. If you please, Mrs. Motherly; but I believe we had best have it above stairs.

Moth. Very well, Madam: it shall be ready immediately.

[Exit Mrs. Motherly.

Lady Wrong. Won't you walk up, Sir?

Sir Fran. Moody!

Count Bas. Shan't we stay for Sir Francis, Madam?

Lady Wrong. Lard! don't mind him! he will come if he likes it.

Sir Fran. Ay, ay! ne'er heed me——I ha' things to look after.

[Exeunt Lady Wrong. and Count Bas.

Enter John Moody.

John Moody. Did you Worship want muh?

Sir Fran. Ay, is the coach clear'd? and all our things in?

John Moody. Aw but a few band-boxes, and the nook that's left o'th' goose poy——But a plague on him, th' Monkey has gin us the slip, I think——I suppose he's goon to see his relations; for here looks to be a power of 'um in this town——but heavy Ralph is skawer'd after him.

Sir Fran. Why, let him go to the Devil! no matter, and the hawnds had had him a month agoe——but I wish the coach and horses were got safe to th' Inn! This is a sharp tawn, we mun look about us here, John, therefore I would have you go alung with Roger, and see that nobody runs away with them before they get to their stable.

John Moody. Alas-a-day, Sir: I believe our awld cattle woant yeasily be run away with to-night—but howsomdever, we'st ta' the best care we can of um, poor sawls.

Sir Francis. Well, well! make hast then——

[Moody goes out, and returns.

John Moody. Ods Flesh! here's Master Monly come to wait upo' your Worship!

Sir Fran. Wheere is he?

John Moody. Just coming in at threshould.

Sir Fran. Then goa about your Business.

[Ex. Moody.

Enter Manly.

Cousin Monly. Sir, I am your very humble servant.

Man. I heard you were come, Sir Francis—and—

Sir Fran. Ods-heart! this was so kindly done of you naw.

Man. I wish you may think it so, Cousin! for I confess, I should have been better-pleas'd to have seen you in any other place.

Sir Fran. How soa, Sir?

Man. Nay, 'tis for your own sake: I'm not concern'd.

Sir Fran. Look you, Cousin! thof' I know you wish me well; yet I don't question I shall give you such weighty reasons for what I have done, that you will say, Sir, this is the wisest Journey that ever I made in my life.

Man. I think it ought to be, Cousin; for I believe, you will find it the most expensive one—your Election did not cost you a trifle, I suppose.

Sir Fran. Why ay! it's true! That—that did lick a little; but if a man's wise, (and I han't fawn'd yet that I'm a fool) there are ways, Cousin, to lick one's self whole again.

Man. Nay if you have that secret——

Sir Fran. Don't you be fearful, Cousin——you'll find that I know something.

Man. If it be any thing for your good, I should be glad to know it too.

Sir Fran. In short then, I have a friend in a corner, that has let me a little into what's what, at Westminster——that's one thing.

Man. Very well! but what good is that to do you?

Sir Fran. Why not me, as much as it does other folks?

Man. Other people, I doubt, have the advantage of different qualifications.

Sir Fran. Why ay! there's it naw! you'll say that I have lived all my days i'the country——what then——I'm o'the Quorum——I have been at Sessions, and I have made Speeches there! ay, and at Vestry too——and may hap they may find here,——that I have brought my tongue up to town with me! D'ye take me, naw?

Man. If I take your case right, Cousin; I am afraid the first occasion you will have for your eloquence here, will be, to shew that you have any right to make use of it at all.

Sir Fran. How d'ye mean?

Man. That Sir John Worthland has lodg'd a Petition against you.

Sir Fran. Petition! why ay! there let it lie——we'll find a way to deal with that, I warrant you!—--why, you forget, Cousin, Sir John's o'the wrong side, Mon.

Man. I doubt Sir Francis, that will do you but little service; for in cases very notorious (which I take yours to be) there is such a thing as a short day, and dispatching them immediately.

Sir Fran. With all my heart! the sooner I send him home again the better.

Man. And this is the scheme you have laid down, to repair your fortune?

Sir Fran. In one word, Cousin, I think it my duty! the Wrongheads have been a considerable Family, ever since England was England; and since the World knows I have talents where withal, they shan't say it's my fault, if I don't make as good a figure as any that ever were at the head on't.

Man. Nay! this project, as you have laid it, will come up to any thing your Ancestors have done these five hundred years.

Sir Fran. And let me alone to work it! mayhap I hav'n't told you all, neither——

Man. You astonish me! what! and is it full as practicable as what you have told me!

Sir Fran. Ay! thof' I say it——every whit, Cousin? you'll find that I have more irons i'the fire than one! I doan't come of a fool's errand!

Man. Very well.

Sir Fran. In a word, my wife has got a friend at Court, as well as myself, and her daughter Jenny is naw pretty well grown up——

Man. [Aside.]—And what in the Devil's name would he do with the Dowdy?

Sir Fran. Naw, if I doan't lay in for a husband for her, mayhap i'this Tawn, she may be looking out for herself——

Man. Not unlikely.

Sir Fran. Therefore I have some thoughts of getting her to be Maid of Honour.

Man. [Aside.]—Oh! he has taken my breath away! but I must hear him out——Pray, Sir Francis, do you think her education has yet qualified her for a Court?

Sir Fran. Why, the Girl is a little too mettlesome, it's true! but she has tongue enough: She woan't be dasht! Then she shall learn to daunce forthwith, and that will soon teach her how to stond still, you know.

Man. Very well; but when she is thus accomplish'd, you must still wait for a vacancy.

Sir Fran. Why I hope one has a good chance for that every day, Cousin! For if I take it right, that's a post, that folks are not more willing to get into, than they are to get out of—It's like an Orange-tree, upon that accawnt——it will bear blossoms, and fruit that's ready to drop, at the same time.

Man. Well, Sir, you best know how to make good your pretensions! But pray where is my Lady, and my young Cousins? I should be glad to see them too.

Sir Fran. She is but just taking a dish of tea with the Count, and my Landlady—I'll call her dawn.

Man. No, no, if she's engag'd, I shall call again.

Sir Fran. Ods-heart! but you mun see her naw, Cousin; what! the best Friend I have in the World!—--Here! Sweet-heart! [To a Servant without.] pr'ythee desire my Lady, and the Gentleman to come down a bit; tell her here's Cousin Manly come to wait upon her.

Man. Pray, Sir, who may the Gentleman be?

Sir Fran. You mun know him to be sure; why it's Count Basset.

Man. Oh! is it he?—Your Family will be infinitely happy in his acquaintance.

Sir Fran. Troth! I think so too: He's the civilest Man that ever I knew in my life——why! here he would go out of his own lodging, at an hour's warning, purely to oblige my family. Wasn't that kind, naw?

Man. Extremely civil—the Family is in admirable hands already.

Sir Fran. Then my Lady likes him hugely—all the time of York Races, she would never be without him.

Man. That was happy, indeed! and a prudent Man, you know, should always take care that his Wife may have innocent company.

Sir Fran. Why ay! that's it! and I think there could not be such another.

Man. Why truly, for her purpose, I think not.

Sir Fran. Only naw and tan, he—he stonds a leetle too much upon ceremony; that's his fault.

Man. O never fear! he'll mend that every day——Mercy on us! what a head he has!

Sir Fran. So! here they come!

Enter Lady Wronghead, Count Basset, and Mrs. Motherly.

Lady Wrong. Cousin Manly! this is infinitely obliging! I am extremely glad to see you.

Man. Your most obedient Servant, Madam; I am glad to see your Ladyship look so well, after your Journey.

Lady Wrong. Why really! coming to London is apt to put a little more life in one's looks.

Man. Yet the way of living here, is very apt to deaden the complexion——and give me leave to tell you, as a friend, Madam, you are come to the worst place in the world, for a good woman to grow better in.

Lady Wrong. Lord, Cousin! how should people ever make any figure in life, that are always moap'd up in the country?

Count Bas. Your Ladyship certainly takes the thing in a quite right light, Madam: Mr. Manly, your humble Servant——a hem.

Man. Familiar Puppy. [Aside.] Sir, your most obedient——I must be civil to the Rascal, to cover my suspicion of him.

[Aside.

Count Bas. Was you at White's this morning, Sir?

Man. Yes, Sir, I just call'd in.

Count Bas. Pray—what—was there any thing done there?

Man. Much as usual, Sir; the same daily carcases, and the same crows about them.

Count Bas. The Demoivre-Baronet had a bloody tumble yesterday.

Man. I hope, Sir, you had your share of him.

Count Bas. No, faith! I came in when it was all over——I think I just made a couple of Bets with him, took up a cool hundred, and so went to the King's Arms.

Lady Wrong. What a genteel, easy manner he has!

[Aside.

Man. A very hopeful acquaintance I have made here.

[Aside.

Enter Squire Richard, with a wet brown Paper on his face.

Sir Fran. How naw, Dick! what's the matter with thy forehead, Lad?

Squ. Rich. I ha' gotten a knuck upon't.

Lady Wrong. And how did you come by it, you heedless creature?

Squ. Rich. Why, I was but running after sister, and t'other young woman, into a little room just naw: and so with that, they flapt the door full in my feace, and gave me such a whurr here—I thought they had beaten my brains out! so I gut a dab of wet brown paper here, to swage it a while.

Lady Wrong. They serv'd you right enough! will you never have done with your horse-play?

Sir Fran. Pooh! never heed it, Lad! it will be well by to-morrow—the Boy has a strong head!

Man. Yes, truly, his skull seems to be of a comfortable thickness.

[Aside.

Sir Fran. Come, Dick, here's Cousin Manly——Sir, this is your God-son.

Lady Wrong. Oh! here's my daughter too.

Enter Miss Jenny.

Squ. Rich. Honour'd Gudfeyther! I crave leave to ask your blessing.

Man. Thou hast it, Child——and if it will do thee any good, may it be to make thee, at least, as wise a man as thy father.

Lady Wrong. Miss Jenny! don't you see your cousin, Child?

Man. And for thee, my pretty Dear—[Salutes her.] may'st thou be, at least, as good a woman as thy mother.

Jenny. I wish I may ever be so handsome, Sir.

Man. Hah! Miss Pert! Now that's a thought, that seems to have been hatcht in the girl on this side Highgate.

[Aside.

Sir Fran. Her tongue is a little nimble, Sir.

Lady Wrong. That's only from her country education, Sir Francis. You know she has been kept too long there——so I brought her to London, Sir, to learn a little more reserve and modesty.

Man. O, the best place in the world for it—every woman she meets will teach her something of it——There's the good gentlewoman of the house, looks like a knowing person; even she perhaps will be so good as to shew her a little London behaviour.

Moth. Alas, Sir, Miss won't stand long in need of my instructions.

Man. That I dare say: What thou can'st teach her, she will soon be Mistress of.

[Aside.

Moth. If she does, Sir, they shall always be at her service.

Lady Wrong. Very obliging indeed, Mrs. Motherly.

Sir Fran. Very kind and civil, truly——I think we are got into a mighty good hawse here.

Man. O yes, and very friendly company.

Count Bas. Humh! I'gad I don't like his looks——he seems a little smoky——I believe I had as good brush off——If I stay, I don't know but he may ask me some odd questions.

Man. Well, Sir, I believe you and I do but hinder the family——

Count Bas. It's very true, Sir—I was just thinking of going——He don't care to leave me, I see: But it's no matter, we have time enough. [Aside.] And so Ladies, without ceremony, your humble Servant.

[Exit Count Basset, and drops a Letter.

Lady Wrong. Ha! what Paper's this? Some Billet-doux I'll lay my life, but this is no place to examine it.

[Puts it in her Pocket.

Sir Fran. Why in such haste, Cousin?

Man. O! my Lady must have a great many affairs upon her hands, after such a journey.

Lady Wrong. I believe, Sir, I shall not have much less every day, while I stay in this town, of one sort or other.

Man. Why truly, Ladies seldom want employment here, Madam.

Jenny. And Mamma did not come to it to be idle, Sir.

Man. Nor you neither, I dare say, my young Mistress.

Jenny. I hope not, Sir.

Man. Ha! Miss Mettle!—--Where are you going Sir?

Sir Fran. Only to see you to the door, Sir.

Man. Oh! Sir Francis, I love to come and go, without ceremony.

Sir Fran. Nay, Sir, I must do as you will have me—your humble Servant.

[Exit Manly.

Jenny. This Cousin Manly, Papa, seems to be but of an odd sort of a crusty humour——I don't like him half so well as the Count.

Sir Fran. Pooh! that's another thing, Child——Cousin is a little proud indeed! but however you must always be civil to him, for he has a deal of money; and no body knows who he may give it to.

Lady Wrong. Pshah; a fig for his money, you have so many projects of late about money, since you are a Parliament Man: What! we must make ourselves slaves to his impertinent humours, eight, or ten years perhaps, in hopes to be his heirs, and then he will be just old enough to marry his maid.

Moth. Nay, for that matter, Madam, the town says he is going to be married already.

Sir Fran. Who? Cousin Manly?

Lady Wrong. To whom, pray?

Moth. Why, is it possible your Ladyship should know nothing of it!—--to my Lord Townly's sister, Lady Grace.

Lady Wrong. Lady Grace?

Moth. Dear Madam, it has been in the New-Papers!

Lady Wrong. I don't like that neither.

Sir Fran. Naw, I do; for then it's likely it mayn't be true.

Lady Wrong. [Aside.] If it is not too far gone; at least it may be worth one's while to throw a rub in his way.

Squ. Rich. Pray, Feyther, haw lung will it be to supper?

Sir Fran. Odso! that's true! step to the Cook, Lad, and ask what she can get us?

Moth. If you please, Sir, I'll order one of my maids to shew her where she may have any thing you have a mind to.

Sir Fran. Thank you kindly, Mrs. Motherly.

Squ. Rich. Ods-flesh! what, is not it i'the hawse yet——I shall be famisht——but howld! I'll go and ask Doll, an there's none o'the goose poy left.

Sir Fran. Do so, and do'st hear, Dick——see if there's e'er a bottle o'th' strong beer that came i'th' coach with us——if there be, clap a toast in it, and bring it up.

Squ. Rich. With a little nutmeg and sugar, shawn't I, Feyther?

Sir Fran. Ay! ay! as thee and I always drink it for breakfast—Go thy ways!—--and I'll fill a pipe i'th' mean while. [Takes one from a Pocket-Case, and fills it.]

[Exit Squ. Rich.

Lady Wrong. This Boy is always thinking of his belly!

Sir Fran. Why my Dear, you may allow him to be a little hungry after his journey.

Lady Wrong. Nay, ev'n breed him your own way—He has been cramming in or out of the coach all this day I am sure—I wish my poor Girl could eat a quarter as much.

Jenny. O for that I could eat a great deal more, Mamma; but then mayhap, I should grow coarse, like him, and spoil my shape.

Lady Wrong. Ay, so thou would'st, my Dear.

Enter Squire Richard with a full Tankard.

Squ. Rich. Here, Feyther, I ha' browght it——it's well I went as I did; for our Doll had just bak'd a toast, and was going to drink it herself.

Sir Fran. Why then, here's to thee, Dick!

[Drinks.

Squ. Rich. Thonk yow, Feyther.

Lady Wrong. Lord! Sir Francis! I wonder you can encourage the Boy to swill so much of that lubberly liquor——it's enough to make him quite stupid.

Squ. Rich. Why it never hurts me, Mother; and I sleep like a hawnd after it.

[Drinks.

Sir Fran. I am sure I ha' drunk it these thirty years, and by your leave, Madam, I don't know that I want wit: Ha! ha!

Jenny. But you might have had a great deal more, Papa, if you would have been govern'd by my Mother.

Sir Fran. Daughter! he that is governed by his Wife, has no wit at all.

Jenny. Then I hope I shall marry a fool, Sir; for I love to govern dearly.

Sir Fran. You are too pert, child; it don't do well in a young woman.

Lady Wrong. Pray, Sir Francis, don't snub her; she has a fine growing spirit, and if you check her so, you will make her as dull as her brother there.

Squ. Rich. [After a long draught.] Indeed, Mother, I think my sister is too forward!

Jenny. You! you think I'm too forward! sure! Brother Mud! your head's too heavy to think of any thing but your Belly.

Lady Wrong. Well said, Miss; he's none of your Master, tho' he is your elder Brother.

Squ. Rich. No, nor she shawn't be my Mistress, while she's younger sister!

Sir Fran. Well said Dick! Shew 'em that stawt liquor makes a stawt heart, Lad!

Squ. Rich. So I wull! and I'll drink ageen, for all her!

[Drinks.

Enter John Moody.

Sir Fran. So John! how are the horses!

John Moody. Troth, Sir, I ha' noa good opinion o' this tawn, it's made up o' mischief, I think!

Sir Fran. What's the matter naw?

John Moody. Why I'll tell your Worship——before we were gotten to th' street end, with the coach, here, a great lugger-headed cart, with wheels as thick as a brick wall, laid hawld on't, and has poo'd it aw to bits; crack! went the perch! Down goes the coach! and whang! says the glasses, all to shivers! Marcy upon us! and this be London! would we were aw weell in the country ageen!

Jenny. What have you to do, to wish us all in the country again, Mr. Lubber? I hope we shall not go into the country again these seven years, Mamma; let twenty coaches be pull'd to pieces.

Sir Fran. Hold your tongue, Jenny!—--Was Roger in no fault, in all this?

John Moody. Noa, Sir, nor I, noather——are not yow asheam'd, says Roger to the carter, to do such an unkind thing by strangers? Noa, says he, you Bumkin. Sir, he did the thing on very purpose! and so the folks said that stood by—Very well, says Roger, yow shall see what our Meyster will say to ye! Your Meyster? says he; your Meyster may kiss my—and so he clapt his hand just there, and like your Worship. Flesh! I thought they had better breeding in this tawn.

Sir Fran. I'll teach this rascal some, I'll warrant him! Odsbud! if I take him in hand, I'll play the Devil with him.

Squ. Rich. Ay do, Feyther; have him before the Parliament.

Sir Fran. Odsbud! and so I will——I will make him know who I am! Where does he live?

John Moody. I believe, in London, Sir.

Sir Fran. What's the Rascal's name!

John Moody. I think I heard somebody call him Dick.

Squ. Rich. What, my name!

Sir Fran. Where did he go?

John Moody. Sir, he went home.

Sir Fran. Where's that?

John Moody. By my troth, Sir, I doan't know! I heard him say he would cross the same street again to-morrow; and if we had a mind to stand in his way, he wou'd pool us over and over again.

Sir Fran. Will he so! Odszooks! get me a Constable.

Lady Wrong. Pooh! get you a good supper. Come, Sir Francis, don't put yourself in a heat for what can't be helpt. Accidents will happen to people that travel abroad to see the world——For my part, I think it's a mercy it was not overturn'd before we were all out on't.

Sir Fran. Why ay, that's true again, my Dear.

Lady Wrong. Therefore see to-morrow if we can buy one at second-hand, for present use; so bespeak a new one, and then all's easy.

John Moody. Why troth, Sir, I doan't think this could have held you above a day longer.

Sir Fran. D'ye think so, John?

John Moody. Why you ha' had it, ever since your Worship were High Sheriff.

Sir Fran. Why then go and see what Doll has got us for supper—and come and get off my boots.

[Exit Sir Fran.

Lady Wrong. In the mean time, Miss, do you step to Handy, and bid her get me some fresh night-clothes.

[Exit Lady Wrong.

Jenny. Yes, Mamma, and some for myself too.

[Exit Jenny.

Squ. Rich. Ods-flesh! and what mun I do all alone?

I'll e'en seek out where t'other pretty Miss is, And she and I'll go play at cards for kisses.

[Exit.