Act 5 — ACT V. SCENE I.

SCENE, Lord Townly's House.

Enter Manly and Lady Grace.

Man. There's something, Madam, hangs upon your mind, to-day: is it unfit to trust me with it?

Lady Grace. Since you will know——my sister then——unhappy woman!

Man. What of her?

Lady Grace. I fear is on the brink of ruin!

Man. I am sorry for it——what has happened?

Lady Grace. Nothing so very new! but the continual repetition of it, has at last rais'd my brother to an intemperance that I tremble at.

Man. Have they had any words upon it?

Lady Grace. He has not seen her since yesterday.

Man. What, not at home all night!

Lady Grace. About five this morning in she came! but with such looks, and such an equipage of misfortunes at her heels——what can become of her?

Man. Has not my lord seen her, say you?

Lady Grace. No! he chang'd his bed last night——I sat with him alone till twelve, in expectation of her: but when the clock had struck, he started from his chair, and grew incens'd to that degree, that had I not, almost on my knees, dissuaded him, he had ordered the doors that instant to have been locked against her.

Man. How terrible is his situation? when the most justifiable severities he can use against her, are liable to be the mirth of all the dissolute card-tables in town!

Lady Grace. 'Tis that, I know, has made him bear so long: but you that feel for him, Mr. Manly, will assist him to support his honour, and, if possible, preserve his quiet! therefore I beg you don't leave the house, 'till one or both of them can be wrought to better temper.

Man. How amiable is this concern, in you!

Lady Grace. For heaven's sake don't mind me, but think of something to preserve us all.

Man. I shall not take the merit of obeying your commands, Madam, to serve my Lord——but pray, Madam, let me into all that has past, since yesternight.

Lady Grace. When my intreaties had prevail'd upon my Lord, not to make a story for the town, by so public a violence, as shutting her at once out of his doors; he order'd the next apartment to my lady's to be made ready for him——while that was doing——I try'd by all the little arts I was mistress of, to amuse him into temper; in short, a silent grief was all I could reduce him to——on this, we took our leaves, and parted to our repose: what his was, I imagine by my own: for I ne'er clos'd my eyes. About five, as I told you, I heard my lady at the door; so I slipt on a gown, and sat almost an hour with her in her own chamber.

Man. What said she, when she did not find my Lord there?

Lady Grace. O! so far from being shock'd or alarm'd at it; that she blest the occasion! and said that in her condition, the chat of a female friend was far preferable to the best husband's company in the world.

Man. Where has she spirits to support so much insensibility?

Lady Grace. Nay! it's incredible! for though she had lost every shilling she had in the world, and stretch'd her credit ev'n to breaking; she rallied her own follies with such vivacity, and painted the penance, she knows she must undergo for them, in such ridiculous lights, that had not my concern for a brother been too strong for her wit, she had a'most disarm'd my anger.

Man. Her mind may have another cast by this time: the most flagrant dispositions have their hours of anguish; which their pride conceals from company; but pray, Madam, how could she avoid coming down to dine?

Lady Grace. O! she took care of that before she went to bed; by ordering her woman, whenever she was ask'd for, to say, she was not well.

Man. You have seen her since she was up, I presume?

Lady Grace. Up! I question whether she be awake yet.

Man. Terrible! What a figure does she make now! That nature should throw away so much beauty upon a creature, to make such a slatternly use of it!

Lady Grace. O fy! there is not a more elegant beauty in town, when she's drest.

Man. In my eye, Madam, she that's early drest, has ten times her elegance.

Lady Grace. But she won't be long now, I believe: for I think I see her chocolate going up——Mrs. Trusty,—a hem!

Mrs. Trusty comes to the door.

Man. [Aside.] Five o'clock in the afternoon, for a lady of quality's breakfast, is an elegant hour indeed! which to shew her more polite way of living too, I presume, she eats in her bed.

Lady Grace. [To Mrs. Trusty.] And when she is up, I would be glad she would let me come to her toilet—That's all, Mrs. Trusty.

Trusty. I will be sure to let her ladyship know, Madam.

[Exit Mrs. Trusty.

Enter a Servant.

Serv. Sir Francis Wronghead, Sir, desires to speak with you.

Man. He comes unseasonably——what shall I do with him!

Lady Grace. O see him by all means, we shall have time enough; in the mean while I'll step in, and have an eye upon my brother. Nay, nay, don't mind me—have business.——

Man. You must be obey'd——

[Retreating while Lady Grace goes out.

Desire Sir Francis to walk in——

[Exit servant.

I suppose by this time his wise worship begins to find, that the balance of his journey to London is on the wrong side.

Enter Sir Francis.

Sir Francis, your servant; how came I by the favour of this extraordinary visit?

Sir Fran. Ah! cousin!

Man. Why that sorrowful face, man?

Sir Fran. I have no friend alive but you——

Man. I am sorry for that——but what's the matter?

Sir Fran. I have play'd the fool by this journey, I see now——for my bitter wife——

Man. What of her?

Sir Fran. Is playing the devil!

Man. Why truly, that's a part that most of your fine ladies begin with, as soon as they get to London.

Sir Fran. If I am a living man, cousin, she has made away with above two hundred and fifty pounds since yesterday morning!

Man. Hah! I see a good housewife will do a great deal of work in a little time.

Sir Fran. Work do they call it! fine work indeed!

Man. Well, but how do you mean made away with it? What, she has laid it out, may be——but I suppose you have an account of it.

Sir Fran. Yes, yes, I have had the account indeed; but I mun needs say, it's a very sorry one.

Man. Pray, let's hear.

Sir Fran. Why, first I let her have an hundred and fifty, to get things handsom about her, to let the world see that I was somebody! and I thought that sum very genteel.

Man. Indeed I think so; and in the country, might have serv'd her a twelvemonth.

Sir Fran. Why so it might——but here in this fine tawn, forsooth! it could not get through four and twenty hours——for in half that time, it was all squandered away in baubles, and new fashion'd trumpery.

Man. O! for ladies in London, Sir Francis, all this might be necessary.

Sir Fran. Noa, theere's the plague on't! the devil o' one useful thing do I see for it, but two pair of lac'd shoes, and those stond me in three pound three shillings a pair too.

Man. Dear Sir! this is nothing! Why we have city wives here, that while their good man is selling three penny worth of sugar, will give you twenty pound for a short apron.

Sir Fran. Mercy on us! what a mortal poor devil is a husband!

Man. Well, but I hope you have nothing else to complain of?

Sir Fran. Ah would I could say so too—but there's another hundred behind yet, that goes more to my heart, than all that went before it.

Man. And how might that be disposed of?

Sir Fran. Troth I am almost ashamed to tell you.

Man. Out with it.

Sir Fran. Why she has been at an assembly.

Man. What, since I saw you! I thought you had all supt at home last night?

Sir Fran. Why, so we did——and all as merry as grigs——I'cod! my heart was so open, that I toss'd another hundred into her apron, to go out early this morning with——but the cloth was no sooner taken away, than in comes my Lady Townly here, (——who between you and I——mum! has had the devil to pay yonder——) with another rantipole dame of quality, and out they must have her, they said, to introduce her at my Lady Noble's assembly forsooth——a few words, you may be sure, made the bargain——so, bawnce! and away they drive as if the devil had got into the coach box—so about four or five in the morning——home comes Madam, with her eyes a foot deep in her head——and my poor hundred pound left behind her at the hazard-table.

Man. All lost at dice!

Sir Fran. Every shilling——among a parcel of pig-tail puppies, and pale fac'd women of quality.

Man. But pray, Sir Francis, how came you, after you found her so ill an housewife of one sum, so soon to trust her with another?

Sir Fran. Why truly I mun say that was partly my own fault: for if I had not been a blab of my tongue, I believe that last hundred might have been sav'd.

Man. How so?

Sir Fran. Why, like an owl as I was, out of goodwill, forsooth, partly to keep her in humour, I must needs tell her of the thousand pound a year, I had just got the promise of—I'cod! she lays her claws upon it that moment——said it was all owing to her advice, and truly she would have her share on't.

Man. What, before you had it yourself?

Sir Fran. Why ay! that's what I told her——My dear, said I, mayhap I mayn't receive the first quarter on't this half year.

Man. Sir Francis, I have heard you with a great deal of patience, and I really feel compassion for you.

Sir Fran. Truly and well you may cousin, for I don't see that my wife's goodness is a bit the better, for bringing to London.

Man. If you remember I gave you a hint of it.

Sir Fran. Why ay, it's true you did so: but the devil himself could not have believ'd she would have rid post to him.

Man. Sir, if you stay but a fortnight in this town you will every day see hundreds as fast upon the gallop, as she is.

Sir Fran. Ah! this London is a base place indeed——waunds, if things should happen to go wrong with me at Westminster, at this rate, how the devil shall I keep out of jail!

Man. Why truly, there seems to me but one way to avoid it.

Sir Fran. Ah! wou'd you could tell me that, cousin.

Man. The way lies plain before you, Sir; the same road that brought you hither will carry you safe home again.

Sir Fran. Ods-flesh! cousin, what! and leave a thousand pound a year behind me?

Man. Pooh! pooh! leave any thing behind you, but your family, and you are a saver by it.

Sir Fran. Ay, but consider, cousin, what a scurvy figure I shall make in the country, if I come dawn withawt it!

Man. You will make a much more lamentable figure in jail without it.

Sir Fran. Mayhap 'at yow have no great opinion of it then, cousin?

Man. Sir Francis, to do you the service of a real friend, I must speak very plainly to you: you don't yet see half the ruin that's before you.

Sir Fran. Good-lack! how may yow mean, cousin?

Man. In one word, your whole affairs stand thus——In a week you'll lose your seat at Westminster: In a fortnight my lady will run you into jail, by keeping the best company——In four and twenty hours, your daughter will run away with a sharper, because she han't been us'd to better company: and your son will steal into marriage with a cast-mistress, because he has not been us'd to any company at all.

Sir Fran. I'th' name of goodness why should you think all this?

Man. Because I have proof of it; in short, I know so much of their secrets, that if all this is not prevented to-night, it will be out of your power to do it to-morrow morning.

Sir Fran. Mercy upon us! you frighten me——Well, Sir, I will be govern'd by yow: but what am I to do in this case?

Man. I have not time here to give you proper instructions; but about eight this evening, I'll call at your lodgings; and there you shall have full conviction, how much I have it at heart to serve you.

Enter a Servant.

Serv. Sir, my Lord desires to speak with you.

Man. I'll wait upon him.

Sir Fran. Well then, I'll go straight home, naw.

Man. At eight depend upon me.

Sir Fran. Ah! dear cousin! I shall be bound to you as long as I live. Mercy deliver us! what a terrible journey have I made on't!

[Exeunt severally.

The SCENE opens to a dressing room. Lady Townly, as just up, walks to her toilet, leaning on Mrs. Trusty.

Trusty. Dear Madam, what should make your Ladyship so out of order!

Lady Town. How is it possible to be well, where one is kill'd for want of sleep?

Trusty. Dear me! it was so long before you rung, Madam, I was in hopes your Ladyship had been finely compos'd.

Lady Town. Compos'd! why I have laid in an inn here! this house is worse than an inn with ten stage-coaches! What between my lord's impertinent people of business in a morning, and the intolerable thick shoes of footmen at noon, one has not a wink all night.

Trusty. Indeed, Madam, it's a great pity my Lord can't be persuaded into the hours of people of quality——Though I must say that, Madam, your Ladyship is certainly the best matrimonial manager in town.

Lady Town. Oh! you are quite mistaken, Trusty! I manage very ill! for notwithstanding all the power I have, by never being over-fond of my lord——yet I want money infinitely oftener than he is willing to give it me.

Trusty. Ah, if his lordship could but be brought to play himself, Madam, then he might feel what it is to want money.

Lady Town. Oh! don't talk of it! do you know that I am undone, Trusty?

Trusty. Mercy forbid, Madam!

Lady Town. Broke! ruin'd! plunder'd!—--stripp'd, even to a confiscation of my last guinea.

Trusty. You don't tell me so, Madam!

Lady Townly. And where to raise ten pound in the world——What is to be done Trusty?

Trusty. Truly, I wish I was wise enough to tell you, Madam: but may be your ladyship may have a run of better fortune, upon some of the good company that comes here to-night.

Lady Town. But I have not a single guinea to try my fortune!

Trusty. Ha! that's a bad business indeed, Madam—Adad! I have a thought in my head, Madam, if it is not too late——

Lady Town. Out with it quickly then, I beseech thee?

Trusty. Has not the steward something of fifty pound, Madam, that you left in his hands to pay somebody about this time?

Lady Town. O! ay! I had forgot—'twas to—a—what's his filthy name?

Trusty. Now I remember, Madam, 'twas to Mr. Lutestring, your old mercer, that your ladyship turn'd off, about a year ago, because he would trust you no longer.

Lady Town. The very wretch! if he has not paid it, run quickly, dear Trusty, and bid him bring it hither immediately——[Exit Trusty.] Well! sure mortal woman never had such fortune! five! five, and nine, against poor seven for ever!—--No! after that horrid bar of my chance, that Lady Wronghead's fatal red fist upon the table, I saw it was impossible, ever to win another stake——Sit up all night! lose all one's money! dream of winning thousands! wake without a shilling! and then how like a hag I look! In short——the pleasures of life are not worth this disorder! If it were not for shame now, I could almost think, Lady Grace's sober scheme not quite so ridiculous——If my wise lord could but hold his tongue for a week, 'tis odds, but I should hate the town in a fortnight——But I will not be driven out of it, that's positive!

[Trusty returns.

Trusty. O Madam! there is no bearing it! Mr. Lutestring was just let in at the door, as I came to the stair-foot! and the steward is now actually paying him the money in the hall.

Lady Town. Run to the stair case head, again——and scream to him, that I must speak with him this instant.

[Trusty runs out, and speaks.

Trusty. Mr. Poundage——a hem! Mr. Poundage, a word with you quickly. Without.

Pound. [Within.] I'll come to you presently.

Trusty. Presently won't do, man, you must come this minute.

Pound. I am but just paying a little money, here.

Trusty. Cods my life! paying money? is the man distracted? come here I tell you, to my lady, this moment, quick!

[Trusty returns.

Lady Town. Will the monster come or no?——

Trusty. Yes, I hear him now, Madam, he is hobbling up, as fast as he can.

Lady Town. Don't let him come in—for he will keep such a babbling about his accounts,——my brain is not able to bear him.

[Poundage comes to the door with a money-bag in his hand.

Trusty. O! it's well you are come, Sir! where's the fifty-pound?

Pound. Why here it is; if you had not been in such haste, I should have paid it by this time——the man's now writing a receipt, below, for it.

Trusty. No matter! my lady says, you must not pay him with that money, there is not enough, it seems; there's a pistole and a guinea that's not good, in it——besides there is a mistake in the account too——[Twitching the bag from him.] But she is not at leisure to examine it now; so you must bid Mr. What-d'ye-call-um call another time.

Lady Town. What is all that noise there?

Pound. Why and it please your Ladyship——

Lady Town. Pr'ythee! don't plague me now, but do as you were order'd.

Pound. Nay, what your Ladyship pleases, Madam——

[Exit Poundage.

Trusty. There they are, Madam——[Pours the money out of the bag.] The pretty things——were so near falling into a nasty tradesman's hands, I protest it made me tremble for them——I fancy your ladyship had as good give me that bad guinea, for luck's sake—thank you, Madam.

[Takes a guinea.

Lady Town. Why, I did not bid you take it.

Trusty. No, but your ladyship look'd as if you were just going to bid me, and so I was willing to save you the trouble of speaking, Madam.

Lady Town. Well! thou hast deserv'd it, and so for once——but hark! don't I hear the man making a noise yonder? though I think now we may compound for a little of his ill humour——

Trusty. I'll listen.

Lady Town. Pr'ythee do.

[Trusty goes to the door.

Trusty. Ay! they are at it, Madam—he's in a bitter passion, with poor Poundage——bless me! I believe he'll beat him——mercy on us; how the wretch swears!

Lady Town. And a sober citizen too! that's a shame!

Trusty. Ha! I think all's silent, of a sudden——may be the porter has knock'd him down—I'll step and see——

[Exit Trusty.

Lady Town. Those trades-people are the troublesomest creatures! no words will satisfy them!

[Trusty returns.

Trusty. O Madam! undone! undone! my lord has just bolted out upon the man, and is hearing all his pitiful story over——if your ladyship pleases to come hither, you may hear him yourself!

Lady Town. No matter: it will come round presently: I shall have it all from my Lord, without losing a word by the way, I'll warrant you.

Trusty. O lud! Madam! here's my lord just coming in.

Lady Town. Do you get out of the way then. [Exit Trusty.] I am afraid I want spirits! but he will soon give 'em me.

Enter Lord Townly.

Lord Town. How comes it, Madam, that a tradesman dares be clamorous in my house, for money due to him, from you?

Lady Town. You don't expect, my lord, that I should answer for other peoples impertinence!

Lord Town. I expect, Madam, you should answer for your own extravagances, that are the occasion of it——I thought I had given you money three months ago, to satisfy all these sort of people!

Lady Town. Yes, but you see they are never to be satisfied.

Lord Town. Nor am I, Madam, longer to be abus'd thus! what's become of the last five hundred I gave you?

Lady Town. Gone.

Lord Town. Gone! what way, Madam?

Lady Town. Half the town over, I believe, by this time.

Lord Town. 'Tis well! I see ruin will make no impression, 'till it falls upon you.

Lady Town. In short, my Lord, if money is always the subject of our conversation, I shall make you no answer.

Lord Town. Madam, Madam! I will be heard, and make you answer.

Lady Town. Make me! then I must tell you, my Lord, this is a language I have not been us'd to, and I won't bear it.

Lord Town. Come! come, Madam, you shall bear a great deal more before I part with you.

Lady Town. My Lord, if you insult me, you will have as much to bear, on your side, I can assure you.

Lord Town. Pooh! your spirit grows ridiculous——you have neither honour, worth, or innocence, to support it!

Lady Town. You'll find, at least, I have resentment! and do you look well to the provocation!

Lord Town. After those you have given me, Madam, 'tis almost infamous to talk with you.

Lady Town. I scorn your imputation and your menaces! The narrowness of your heart's your monitor! 'tis there! there, my lord, you are wounded; you have less to complain of than many husbands of an equal rank to you.

Lord Town. Death, Madam! do you presume upon your corporal merit! that your person's less tainted, than your mind! is it there! there alone an honest husband can be injur'd? Have you not every other vice that can debase your birth, or stain the heart of woman? Is not your health, your beauty, husband, fortune, family disclaim'd, for nights consumed in riot and extravagance? The wanton does no more; if she conceals her shame, does less: And sure the dissolute avow'd, as sorely wrongs my honour, and my quiet.

Lady Town. I see, my Lord, what sort of wife might please you.

Lord Town. Ungrateful woman! could you have seen yourself, you in yourself had seen her——I am amaz'd our legislature has left no precedent of a divorce for this more visible injury, this adultery of the mind, as well as that of the person! when a woman's whole heart is alienated to pleasures I have no share in, what is't to me whether a black ace, or a powder'd coxcomb has possession of it?

Lady Town. If you have not found it yet, my lord, this is not the way to get possession of mine, depend upon it.

Lord Town. That, Madam, I have long despair'd of; and since our happiness cannot be mutual, 'tis fit, that with our hearts, our persons too should separate.——This house you sleep no more in! tho' your content might grosly feed upon the dishonour of a husband, yet my desires would starve upon the features of a wife.

Lady Town. Your stile, my lord, is much of the same delicacy with your sentiments of honour.

Lord Town. Madam, Madam! this is no time for compliments——I have done with you.

Lady Town. If we had never met, my Lord, I had not broke my heart for it! but have a care I may not, perhaps, be so easily recall'd as you imagine.

Lord Town. Recall'd—Who's there!

Enter a Servant.

Desire my sister and Mr. Manly to walk up.

Lady Town. My Lord, you may proceed as you please, but pray what indiscretions have I committed, that are not daily practis'd by a hundred other women of quality?

Lord Town. 'Tis not the number of ill wives, Madam, that makes the patience of a husband less contemptible: and though a bad one may be the best man's lot, yet he'll make a better figure in the world, that keeps his misfortunes out of doors, than he that tamely keeps her within.

Lady Town. I don't know what figure you may make, my Lord, but I shall have no reason to be asham'd of mine in whatever company I may meet you.

Lord Town. Be sparing of your spirit, Madam, you'll need it to support you.

Enter Lady Grace and Manly.

Mr. Manly, I have an act of friendship to beg of you, which wants more apologies, than words can make for it.

Man. Then pray make none, my Lord, that I may have the greater merit in obliging you.

Lord Town. Sister, I have the same excuse to intreat of you too.

Lady Grace. To your request, I beg, my Lord.

Lord Town. Thus then——as you both were present at my ill considered marriage, I now desire you each will be a witness of my determin'd separation——I know, Sir, your good nature, and my sister's must be shock'd at the office I impose on you! but as I don't ask your justification of my cause; so I hope you are conscious——that an ill woman can't reproach you, if you are silent, upon her side.

Man. My lord, I never thought, 'till now, it could be difficult to oblige you.

Lady Grace. [Aside.] Heaven's! how I tremble!

Lord Town. For you, my Lady Townly, I need not here repeat the provocations of my parting with you—the world, I fear, is too well informed of them——For the good lord, your dead father's sake, I will still support you, as his daughter——As the lord Townly's wife, you have had every thing a fond husband could bestow, and (to our mutual shame I speak it) more than happy wives desire——But those indulgences must end! State, equipage and splendor, but ill become the vices that misuse 'em——The decent necessaries of life shall be supply'd——but not one article to luxury! Not even the coach that waits to carry you from hence, shall you ever use again! Your tender aunt, my Lady Lovemore, with tears, this morning has consented to receive you; where if time, and your condition brings you to a due reflection, your allowance shall be increased——But if you still are lavish of your little, or pine for past licentious pleasures, that little shall be less! nor will I call that soul my friend, that names you in my hearing!

Lady Grace. My heart bleeds for her.

[Aside.

Lord Town. O Manly! look there! turn back thy thoughts with me, and witness to my growing love; there was a time when I believ'd that form incapable of vice or of decay! There I proposed the partner of an easy home! There I for ever hoped to find, a chearful companion, an agreeable intimate, a faithful friend, a useful help-mate, and a tender mother——But oh! how bitter now the disappointment!

Man. The world is different in its sense of happiness: offended as you are, I know you still will be just.

Lord Town. Fear me not.

Man. This last reproach, I see, has struck her.

[Aside.

Lord Town. No, let me not (though I this moment cast her from my heart for ever) let me not urge her punishment beyond her crimes——I know the world is fond of any tale that feeds its appetite of scandal: and as I am conscious, severities of this kind seldom fail of imputations too gross to mention, I here, before you both acquit her of the least suspicion rais'd against the honour of my bed. Therefore when abroad her conduct may be question'd, do her fame that justice.

Lady Town. O sister!

[Turns to Lady Grace weeping.

Lord Town. When I am spoken of, where without favour this action may be canvass'd, relate but half my provocations, and give me up to censure.

[Going.

Lady Town. Support me! save me! hide me from the world!

[Falls on Lady Grace's neck.

Lord Town. [Returning.]——I had forgot me—You have no share in my resentment; therefore, as you have liv'd in friendship with her, your parting may admit of gentler terms than suit the honour of an injur'd husband.

[Offers to go out.

Man. [Interposing.] My Lord, you must not, shall not leave her thus! one moment's stay can do your cause no wrong! If looks can speak the anguish of the heart, I'll answer with my life, there's something labouring in her mind, that would you bear the hearing, might deserve it.

Lord Town. Consider! since we no more can meet; press not my staying to insult her.

Lady Town. Yet stay my Lord——the little I would say, will not deserve an insult; and undeserv'd, I know your nature gives it not. But as you've call'd in friends, to witness your resentment, let them be equal hearers of my last reply.

Lord Town. I shan't refuse you that, Madam——be it so.

Lady Town. My Lord, you ever have complain'd I wanted love; but as you kindly have allowed I never gave it to another; so when you hear the story of my heart, though you may still complain, you will not wonder at my coldness.

Lady Grace. This promises a reverse of temper.

[Apart.

Man. This, my Lord, you are concern'd to hear!

Lord Town. Proceed, I am attentive.

Lady Town. Before I was your bride, my Lord, the flattering world had talk'd me into beauty; which, at my glass, my youthful vanity confirm'd: wild with that fame, I thought mankind my slaves, I triumph'd over hearts while all my pleasure was their pain: yet was my own so equally insensible to all, that when a father's firm commands enjoin'd me to make choice of one, I even there declin'd the liberty he gave, and to his own election yielded up my youth——his tender care, my Lord, directed him to you——Our hands were join'd! But still my heart was wedded to its folly! My only joy was power, command, society, profuseness, and to lead in pleasures! The husband's right to rule, I thought a vulgar law, which only the deform'd or meanly spirited obey'd! I knew no directors, but my passions; no matter but my will! even you, my lord, some time o'ercome by love, was pleas'd with my delights; nor, then foresaw this mad misuse of your indulgence——And, though I call myself ungrateful, while I own it, yet as a truth, it cannot be deny'd——That kind indulgence has undone me! it added strength to my habitual failings, and in a heart thus warm, in wild unthinking life, no wonder if the gentler sense of love was lost.

Lord Town. O Manly! where has this creature's heart been buried? Apart.

Man. If yet recoverable——How vast a treasure?

Lady Town. What I have said, my lord, is not my excuse; but my confession! my errors (give 'em if you please, a harder name) cannot be defended! No! What's in its nature wrong, no words can palliate, no plea can alter! What then remains in my condition but resignation to your pleasure? Time only can convince you of my future conduct: Therefore till I have liv'd an object of forgiveness, I dare not hope for pardon——The penance of a lonely contrite life were little to the innocent; but to have deserv'd this separation, will strew perpetual thorns upon my pillow.

Lady Grace. O happy, heavenly hearing!

Lady Town. Sister, farewel! [Kissing her.] Your virtue needs no warning from the shame that falls on me: but when you think I have aton'd my follies past——persuade your injur'd brother to forgive them.

Lord Town. No, Madam! Your errors thus renounc'd, this instant are forgotten! So deep, so due a sense of them, has made you, what my utmost wishes form'd, and all my heart has sigh'd for.

Lady Town. [Turning to Lady Grace.] How odious does this goodness make me!

Lady Grace. How amiable your thinking so?

Lord Town. Long-parted friends, that pass through easy voyages of life, receive but common gladness in their meeting: but from a shipwreck sav'd, we mingle tears with our embraces!

[Embracing Lady Townly.

Lady Town. What words! what love! what duty can repay such obligations!

Lord Town. Preserve but this desire to please, your power is endless.

Lady Town. Oh!—--'till this moment, never did I know, my Lord, I had a heart to give you!

Lord Town. By heav'n this yielding hand, when first it gave you to my wishes, presented not a treasure more desirable! O Manly! sister! as you have often shar'd in my disquiet, partake of my felicity! my new-born joy! see here the bride of my desires! this may be called my wedding-day!

Lady Grace. Sister! (for now methinks that name is dearer to my heart than ever) let me congratulate the happiness that opens to you.

Man. Long, long and mutual may it flow——

Lord Town. To make our happiness compleat, my dear, join here with me to give a hand, that amply will repay the obligation.

Lady Town. Sister! a day like this——

Lady Grace. Admits of no excuse against the general joy.

[Gives her hand to Manly.

Man. A joy like mine——despairs of words to speak it.

Lord Town. O Manly! how the name of friend endears the brother!

[Embracing him.

Man. Your words, my Lord, will warn me to deserve them.

Enter a Servant.

Serv. My Lord, the apartments are full of masqueraders——And some people of quality there desire to see your Lordship and my Lady.

Lady Town. I thought, my Lord, your orders had forbid this revelling?

Lord Town. No, my dear, Manly has desir'd their admittance to-night, it seems, upon a particular occasion——Say we will wait upon them instantly.

[Exit Servant.

Lady Town. I shall be but ill company to them.

Lord Town. No matter: not to see them, would on a sudden to be too particular. Lady Grace will assist you to entertain them.

Lady Town. With her, my Lord, I shall be always easy——Sister, to your unerring virtue, I commit the guidance of my future days.

[Exit.

The SCENE opening to another apartment discovers a great number of people in masquerade talking all together, and playing one upon another: Lady Wronghead as a shepherdess; Jenny, as a nun; the Squire as a running footman; and the Count in a Domino. After some time, Lord and Lady Townly, with Lady Grace, enter to them unmask'd.

Lord Town. So! here's a great deal of company.

Lady Grace. A great many people, my Lord, but no company——as you'll find——for here's one now, that seems to have a mind to entertain us.

[A mask, after some affected gesture, makes up to Lady Townly.

Mask. Well, dear Lady Townly, shan't we see you, by-and-by?

Lady Town. I don't know you, Madam.

Mask. Don't you, seriously?

[In a squeaking tone.

Lady Town. Not I, indeed.

Mask. Well, that's charming; but can't you guess?

Lady Town. Yes, I could guess wrong, I believe.

Mask. That's what I'd have you to do.

Lady Town. But, Madam, if I don't know you at all, is not that as well?

Mask. Ay, but you do know me.

Lady Town. Dear sister, take her off o' my hands; there's no bearing this.

[Apart.

Lady Grace. I fancy I know you, Madam.

Mask. I fancy you don't: what makes you think you do?

Lady Grace. Because I have heard you talk.

Mask. Ay, but you don't know my voice, I'm sure.

Lady Grace. There is something in your wit and humour, Madam, so very much your own, it is impossible you can be any body but my Lady Trifle.

Mask. [Unmasking.] Dear Lady Grace! thou art a charming creature.

Lady Grace. Is there no body else we know here?

Mask. O dear, yes! I have found out fifty already.

Lady Grace. Pray who are they?

Mask. O, charming company! there's Lady Ramble——Lady Riot——Lady Kill-Care——Lady Squander——Lady Strip——Lady Pawn——and the Dutchess of Single-Guinea.

Lord Town. Is it not hard, my dear! that people of sense and probity are sometimes forc'd to seem fond of such company? Apart.

Lady Town. My Lord, it will always give me pain to remember their acquaintance, but none to drop it immediately.

Lady Grace. But you have given us no account of the men, Madam. Are they good for any thing?

Mask. O yes! you must know, I always find out them by their endeavours to find out me.

Lady Grace. Pray who are they?

Mask. Why, for your men of tip-top wit and pleasure, about town, there's my Lord——Bite——Lord Arch-wag——Young Brazen-wit——Lord Timberdown——Lord Joint-Life——and——Lord Mortgage. Then for your pretty fellows only——there's Sir Powder-Peacock——Lord Lapwing——Billy Magpye——Beau Frightful——Sir Paul Plaster-crown, and the Marquis of Monkey-man.

Lady Grace. Right; and these are fine gentlemen that never want elbow-room at an assembly.

Mask. The rest I suppose, by their tawdry hired habits are tradesmens wives, inns-of-court beaus, Jews, and kept mistresses.

Lord Town. An admirable collection!

Lady Grace. Well, of all our public diversions, I am amaz'd how this, that is so very expensive, and has so little to shew for it, can draw so much company together.

Lord Town. O! if it were not expensive, the better sort would not come into it: and because money can purchase a ticket, the common people scorn to be kept out of it.

Mask. Right, my Lord, poor Lady Grace! I suppose you are under the same astonishment, that an opera should draw so much good company.

Lady Grace. Not at all, Madam; it is an easier matter sure to gratify the ear, than the understanding. But have you no notion, Madam, of receiving pleasure and profit at the same time?

Mask. Oh! quite none! unless it be sometimes winning a great stake; laying down a Vole, sans prendre may come up, to the profitable pleasure you were speaking of.

Lord Town. You seem attentive, my dear? Apart.

Lady Town. I am, my Lord; and amaz'd at my own follies so strongly painted in another woman.

Lady Grace. But see, my Lord, we had best adjourn our debate, I believe, for here are some masks that seem to have a mind to divert other people as well as themselves.

Lord Town. The least we can do is to give them a clear stage then.

[A dance of masks here in various characters.

This was a favour extraordinary.

Enter Manly.

O Manly! I thought we had lost you.

Man. I ask pardon, my Lord; but I have been oblig'd to look a little after my country family.

Lord Town. Well, pray, what have you done with them?

Man. They are all in the house here, among the masks, my Lord; if your Lordship has curiosity enough, to step into a lower apartment, in three minutes I'll give you an ample account of them.

Lord Town. O! by all means: we'll wait upon you.

[The scene shuts upon the masks to smaller apartments.

Manly re-enters with Sir Francis Wronghead.

Sir Fran. Well, cousin, you have made my very hair stand on an end! Waunds! if what you tell me be true, I'll stuff my whole family into a stage-coach, and trundle them into the country on Monday morning.

Man. Stick to that, Sir, and we may yet find a way to redeem all: in the mean time, place yourself behind this screen, and for the truth of what I have told you take the evidence of your own senses: but be sure you keep close till I give you the signal.

Sir Fran. Sir! I'll warrant you——Ah! my Lady, my Lady Wronghead! What a bitter business have you drawn me into!

Man. Hush! to your post; here comes one couple already.

Sir Francis retires behind the screen.

[Exit Manly.

Enter Myrtilla with Squire Richard.

Squ. Rich. What! is this the doctor's chamber?

Myr. Yes, yes, speak softly.

Squ. Rich. Well, but where is he?

Myr. He'll be ready for us presently, but he says he can't do us the good turn, without witnesses: so, when the Count and your sister come, you know he and you may be fathers for one another.

Squ. Rich. Well, well, tit for tat! ay, ay, that will be friendly.

Myr. And see! here they come.

Enter Count Basset, and Miss Jenny.

Count Bas. So, so, here's your brother, and his bride, before us, my dear.

Jenny. Well, I vow my heart's at my mouth still! I thought I should never have got rid of Mama! but while she stood gaping on the dance, I gave her the slip! Lawd! do but feel how it beats here.

Count Bas. O the pretty flutterer! I protest, my dear, you have put mine into the same palpitation!

Jenny. Ah! you say so——but let's see now——O lud! I vow it thumps purely—well, well, I see it will do, and so where's the parson?

Count Bas. Mrs. Myrtilla, will you be so good as to see if the doctor's ready for us?

Myr. He only staid for you, Sir: I'll fetch him immediately.

[Exit Myrtilla.

Jenny. Pray, Sir, am not I to take place of Mama, when I am a countess?

Count Bas. No doubt on't, my dear.

Jenny. O lud how her back will be up then, when she meets me at an assembly! or you and I in our coach and six, at Hyde-Park together!

Count Bas. Ay, or when she hears the box-keepers, at an Opera, call out—The Countess of Basset's servants!

Jenny. Well, I say it, that will be delicious! And then, mayhap, to have a fine gentleman with a star and what-d'ye-call-um ribbon, lead me to my chair, with his hat under his arm all the way! Hold up, says the chairman, and so, says I, my Lord, your humble servant. I suppose, Madam, says he, we shall see you at my Lady Quadrille's! Ay, ay, to be sure, my Lord, says I——So in swops me, with my hoop stuff'd up to my forehead! and away they trot, swing! swang! with my tassels dangling, and my flambeaux blazing, and——Oh! it's a charming thing to be a woman of quality!

Count Bas. Well, I see that plainly, my dear, there's ne'er a Dutchess of 'em all will become an equipage like you.

Jenny. Well, well, do you find equipage, and I'll find airs, I warrant you.

[Sings.

Squ. Rich. Troth! I think this masquerading's the merriest game that ever I saw in my life! Thof, in my mind, and there were but a little wrestling, or cudgel playing naw, it would help it hugely. But what a-rope makes the parson stay so?

Count Bas. Oh! here he comes, I believe.

Enter Myrtilla with a constable.

Const. Well, Madam, pray which is the party that wants a spice of my office here?

Myr. That's the gentleman.

[Pointing to the Count.

Count Bas. Hey-day! what in masquerade, doctor?

Const. Doctor! Sir, I believe you have mistaken your man: but if you are called Count Basset, I have a billet-doux in my hand for you, that will set you right presently.

Count Bas. What the devil's the meaning of all this?

Const. Only my Lord Chief Justice's warrant against you for forgery, Sir.

Count Bas. Blood and thunder!

Const. And so, Sir, if you please to pull off your fool's frock there, I'll wait upon you to the next Justice of peace immediately.

Jenny. O dear me! what's the matter?

[Trembling.

Count Bas. O! nothing, only a masquerading frolic, my dear.

Squ. Rich. Oh oh! is that all?

Sir Fran. No, Sirrah! that is not all.

[Sir Francis coming softly behind the Squire, knocks him down with his cane.

Enter Manly.

Squ. Rich. O lawd! O lawd! he has beaten my brains out!

Man. Hold, hold, Sir Francis, have a little mercy upon my poor godson, pray, Sir.

Sir Fran. Waunds, cousin, I han't patience.

Count Bas. Manly! nay, then I'm blown to the devil.

[Aside.

Squ. Rich. O my head! my head!

Enter Lady Wronghead.

Lady Wrong. What's the matter here, gentlemen? for heav'ns sake! what, are you murd'ring my children?

Con. No, no, Madam! no murder! only a little suspicion of felony, that's all.

Sir Fran. [To Jenny.] And for you, Mrs. Hot-upon't, I could find in my heart to make you wear that habit, as long as you live, you jade you. Do you know, hussy, that you were within two minutes of marrying a pickpocket?

Count Bas. So, so, all's out, I find.

[Aside.

Jenny. O the mercy! why, pray, Papa, is not the Count a man of quality then?

Sir Fran. O yes! one of the unhang'd ones, it seems.

Lady Wrong. [Aside.] Married! O the confident thing! There was his urgent business then——slighted for her! I han't patience!—and for ought I know, I have been all this while making a friendship with a highwayman!

Man. Mr. Constable, secure that door there.

Sir Fran. Ah, my Lady! my Lady! this comes of your journey to London! but now I have a frolick of my own, Madam; therefore pack up your trumpery this very night, for the moment my horses are able to crawl, you and your brats shall make a journey into the country again.

Lady Wrong. Indeed you are mistaken, Sir Francis——I shall not stir out of town yet, I promise you.

Sir Fran. Not stir! Waunds! madam——

Man. Hold, Sir!—if you'll give me leave a little—I fancy I shall prevail upon my Lady to think better on't.

Sir Fran. Ah? cousin, you are a friend indeed!

Man. [Apart to my Lady.] Look you, Madam, as to the favour you design'd me, in sending this spurious letter inclosed to my Lady Grace, all the revenge I have taken, is to have sav'd your son and daughter from ruin——Now if you will take them fairly and quietly into the country again, I will save your Ladyship from ruin.

Lady Wrong. What do you mean, Sir?

Man. Why Sir Francis——shall never know what is in this letter; look upon it. How it came into my hands you shall know at leisure.

Lady Wrong. Ha! my billet-doux to the Count! and an appointment in it! I shall sink with confusion!

Man. What shall I say to Sir Francis, Madam?

Lady Wrong. Dear Sir, I am in such a trembling! preserve my honour and I am all obedience!

[Apart to Manly.

Man. Sir Francis——my Lady is ready to receive your commands for her journey whenever you please to appoint it.

Sir Fran. Ah cousin! I doubt I am obliged to you for it.

Man. Come, come, Sir Francis! take it as you find it. Obedience in a wife is a good thing, though it were never so wonderful——And now, Sir, we have nothing to do but dispose of this gentleman.

Count Bas. Mr. Manly! Sir, I hope you won't ruin me.

Man. Did not you forge this note for five hundred pounds, Sir?

Count Bas. Sir——I see you know the world, and therefore I shall not pretend to prevaricate——But it has hurt nobody yet, Sir! I beg you will not stigmatize me! since you have spoil'd my fortune in one family, I hope you won't be so cruel to a young fellow, as to put it out of my power, Sir, to make it in another, Sir!

Man. Look you, Sir, I have not much time to waste with you: but if you expect mercy yourself, you must show it to one you have been cruel to.

Count Bas. Cruel, Sir!

Man. Have not you ruin'd this young woman?

Count Bas. I, Sir!

Man. I know you have——therefore you can't blame her, if, in the fact you are charg'd with, she is a principal witness against you. However, you have one and one only chance to get off with. Marry her this instant——and you take off her evidence.

Count Bas. Dear Sir!

Man. No words, Sir; a wife or a mittimus.

Count Bas. Lord, Sir! this is the most unmerciful mercy!

Man. A private penance, or a public one——constable.

Count Bas. Hold, Sir, since you are pleas'd to give me my choice; I will not make so ill a compliment to the Lady, as not to give her the preference.

Man. It must be done this minute, Sir: the chaplain you expected is still within call.

Count Bas. Well, Sir,——since it must be so——come, spouse——I am not the first of the fraternity that has run his head into one noose, to keep it out of another.

Myr. Come, Sir, don't repine: marriage is, at worst, but playing upon the square.

Count Bas. Ay, but the worst of the match too, is the devil.

Man. Well, Sir, to let you see it is not so bad as you think it; as a reward for her honesty, in detecting your practices, instead of the forged bill you would have put upon her, there's a real one of five hundred pounds, to begin a new honey-moon with.

[Gives it to Myrtilla.

Count Bas. Sir, this is so generous an act——

Man. No compliments, dear Sir,——I am not at leisure now to receive them: Mr. Constable, will you be so good as to wait upon this gentleman into the next room, and give this lady in marriage to him?

Const. Sir, I'll do it faithfully.

Count Bas. Well! five hundred will serve to make a handsome push with, however.

[Exeunt Count, Myr. and Constable.

Sir Fran. And that I may be sure my family's rid of him for ever——come, my Lady, let's even take our children along with us, and be all witness of the ceremony.

[Exeunt Sir Fran, Lady Wrong, Miss and Squire.

Man. Now, my Lord, you may enter.

Enter Lord and Lady Townly, and Lady Grace.

Lord Town. So, Sir, I give you joy of your negotiation.

Man. You overheard it all, I presume?

Lady Grace. From first to last, Sir.

Lord Town. Never were knaves and fools better dispos'd of.

Man. A sort of poetical justice, my Lord, not much above the judgment of a modern comedy.

Lord Town. To heighten that resemblance, I think, sister, there only wants your rewarding the hero of the fable, by naming the day of his happiness.

Lady Grace. This day, to-morrow, every hour, I hope, of life to come, will shew I want not inclination to complete it.

Man. Whatever I may want, Madam, you will always find endeavours to deserve you.

Lord Town. Then all are happy.

Lady Town. Sister! I give you joy! consummate as the happiest pair can boast.

EPILOGUE,

Spoken by Mrs. OLDFIELD.

Sung by Mrs. Cibber, in the Fourth Act.

The Words by Mr. Carey.

Sung by Mrs. Cibber, in the Fifth Act.

The Words by Mr. Carey.

FINIS.

PLAYS, printed for T. Lowndes, at 6d. each.

A Bramule, by Dr. Trapp

Adventures of half an hour

Albion and Albanius, by Dryden

Alchymist, by Ben Jonson

Alcibiades, by Otway

All for Love, by Dryden

Ambitious Step-mother, by Rowe

Amboyna, by Dryden

Amphitryon, by Dryden

Anatomist, by Ravenscroft

Anna Bullen, by Bankes

As you like It, by Shakespeare

Artful Husband, by Taverner

Athaliah, by Mr. Duncomb

Aurengzebe, by Dryden

Bartholomew fair, by Ben Jonson

Basset Table, by Centlivre

Beaux Stratagem, by Farquhar

Beggars Opera, by Gay

Biter, by Rowe

Bold Stroke for a Wife

British Enchanters, by Lansdown

Busiris, by Dr. Young

Busy Body, by Centlivre

Caius Marius, by Otway

Careless Husband, by Cibber

Cataline, by Ben Jonson

Cato, by Addison

Chances, by D. Buckingham

Chaplet, by Mr. Mendez

Cleomenes, by Dryden

Cobler of Preston

Comedy of Errors, by Shakespeare

Conscious Lovers, by Cibber

Committee, by Sir R. Howard

Confederacy, by Vanbrugh

Conscious Lovers, by Steele

Constant Couple, by Farquhar

Contrivances, by Cary

Country Lasses, by C. Johnson

Country Wife, by Wycherly

Cymbelyne, altered by Mr. Garrick

Damon and Phillida, by Mr. Dibden

Devil of a Wife

Devil to Pay, by Coffey

Distressed Mother, by Amb. Phillips

Don Carlos, by Otway

Double Dealer, by Congreve

Double Gallant, by Cibber

Dragon of Wantley

Drummer, by Addison

Duke and no Duke, by Sir A. Cockain

Duke of Guise, by Dryden

Earl of Essex, by Bankes

Every Man in his Humour

Fair Penitent, by Rowe

Fair Quaker of Deal, by C. Shadwell

False Friend

Fatal Secret, by Theobald

Flora, or Hob in the well

Fox, by Ben Jonson

Friendship in Fashion, by Otway

Funeral, by Sir R. Steele

Gamester, by Mrs. Centlivre

Gentle Shepherd

George Barnwell, by Lillo

Gloriania

Greenwich Park

Hamlet, by Shakespeare

Henry IV. 2 parts, by ditto

Henry V. by ditto

Henry VI. 3 parts, by ditto

Henry VIII. by ditto

Henry V. by Aaron Hill

Honest Yorkshireman

Jane Gray, by Rowe

Jane Shore, by Rowe

Inconstant, by Farquhar

King John, by Shakespeare

King Lear, by ditto

King Lear, by Tate

Limberham, by Dryden

Love for Love, by Congreve

Love in a Mist

Love in a Tub, by Etherege

Love makes a Man, by C. Cibber

Loves last Shift, by ditto

Lying Lover, by Steele

Macbeth, by Shakespeare

Man of Mode, by Etherege

Mariamne, by Fenton

Measure for Measure, by Shakespeare

Merchant of Venice, by Shakespeare

Mistake, by Vanbrugh

Mourning Bride, by Congreve

Much ado about Nothing

Mustapha by Lord Orrery

Nonjuror, by C. Cibber

Oedipus, by Dryden

Old Batchelor, by Congreve

Oroonoko, by Southern

Orphan, by Otway

Othello, by Shakespeare

Perjured Husband

Perolla and Isidora, by C. Cibber

Phædra and Hippolitus, by Smith

Pilgrim, by Beaumont and Fletcher

Polly, by Mr. Gay

Prophetess, by Beaumont

Provok'd Husband, by C. Cibber

Provok'd Wife, by Vanbrugh

Recruiting Officer, by Farquhar

Refusal, by Cibber

Rehearsal, by D. of Bucks

Relapse, by Vanbrugh

Revenge, by Dr. Younge

Richard III. by C. Cibber

Rival Fools, by Cibber

Rival Ladies, by Dryden

Rival Queens, by Lee

Romeo and Juliet, altered by Mr. Garrick

Royal Merchant, by Beaumont

Rule a Wife and have a Wife

School Boy, by Cibber

Scornful Lady, by Beaumont and Fletcher

She would and she would not, by Cibber

She would if she could, by Etherege

Siege of Damascus, by Hughes

Silent Woman, by B. Jonson

Sir Courtly Nice, by Crown

Sir Harry Wildair, by Farquhar

Sir Martin Mar-all, by Dryden

Sir Walter Raleigh, by Dr. Sewell

'Squire of Alsatia, by T. Shadwell

Stage Coach, by Farquhar

State of Innocence, by Dryden

Strollers

Suspicious Husband, by Dr. Hoadley

Tamerlane, by Rowe

Tempest, by Shakespeare

Tender Husband, by Steele

Theodosius or the Force of Love

Timon of Athens, by Shakespeare

Titus and Berenice, with the Cheats of Scapin, by Otway

Twelfth Night, by Shakespeare

Twin Rivals, by Farquhar

Two Gentlemen of Verona

Venice Preserved, by Otway

Ulysses, by Rowe

Way of the World, by Congreve

What d'ye call it? by Gay

Wife to let

Wife's Relief, or Husband's Cure

Wild Gallant, by Dryden

Wit without Money

Woman's a Riddle

Wonder, a Woman keeps a Secret, by Centlivre

Zara, with the interlude, by A. Hill, Esq.

Arden of Feversham, 1s.

Douglas, 1s.

Eastward Hoe, 1s.

Gentleman Dancing Master, 1s.

Love in a Wood, 1s.

Perkin Warbeck, 1s.

Plague of Riches, French and English, 1s.

Plain Dealer, 1s.

Siege of Aquileia, 1s.

Tragedies and Comedies, in Octavo, at 1s. 6d. each.

Achilles, an opera, by Gay

Alzuma, by A. Murphy

Azlira, by A. Hill, Esq.

Art and Nature, by the Rev. Mr. Miller

Arminus

Athelstan, by Dr. Brown

Athelwould, by A. Hill, Esq.

Barbarossa, by Dr. Brown

Beggars Opera, with Music, by Gay

Beggars Opera songs, for Harpsichord, Violin, or German flute, 4to

Bond Man

Brothers, by Cumberland

Cælia, or perjured Lover, by C. Johnson

Cornish 'Squire, by Sir J. Vanbrugh

Coriolanus, altered

Cymbeline, by Hawkins

Dissembled Wanton, by Mr. Welsted

Distressed Wife, by Gay

Double Dealer, printed by Baskerville

Double Falsehood; or Distressed Lovers, by Shakespeare

Double Mistake, by Mrs. Griffyths

Douglas, by Mr. Home

Elfrid, or the fair Inconstant, by A. Hill, Esq.

Eurydice, by Mallet

False Delicacy, by Mr. Kelly

Fashionable Lover

Fatal Vision, by A. Hill

Foundling, by Mr. Moore

Gamester, by Mr. Moore

Gil Blas, by Mr. Moore

Good natur'd Man

Guardian outwitted, by Dr. Arne

Henry VIII. by Mr. Grove, with cuts

Humours of Oxford, by Mr. Miller

Jealous Wife, by G. Colman, Esq.

Independent Patriot, by F. Lynch, Esq.

Insolvent, by A. Hill

Jovial Crew, with the music

King Charles I. by Havard

Love for Love, printed by Baskerville

Love in a Riddle, with music

Love in a Village, by Mr. Bickerstaff

Lover, by Mr. The. Cibber

Mahomet, altered by D. Garrick, Esq.

Maid of the Mill, by Mr. Bickerstaff

Man of Taste, by Mr. Miller

Methodist

Midas, by K. O'Hara, Esq.

Minor, by Mr. Foote

Miser, by Fielding

Modern Husband

Modish Couple, by C. Bodens, Esq.

Momus turned Fabulist

Mother-in-Law, by Mr. Miller

Mourning Bride, printed by Baskerville

Mustapha, by Mr. Mallet

No one's Enemy but his Own, by Mr. Murphy