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Where shall I find thee such another pair?
Pity that you, who've served so long, so well,
Should die a virgin, and lead apes in hell.
Choose for yourself, dear girl, our empire round,
Your portion is twelve hundred thousand pound.
Aldi. Here! take these dead and bloody corpse

away;

Make preparation for our wedding-day.
Instead of sad solemnity, and black,
Our hearts shall swim in claret, and in sack.
[Exeunt omnes.

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Is not my heart my own?

I hate, I scorn their clownish squire,
Nor lord, nor duke, do I desire,

But him I love alone.

Slang. Nor am I now, sir; your humble servant has invented already-and such a scheme! Gay. How! which way, dear Slango? Slang. Why thus I must personate Arbella, (with this sweet face) and you her uncle, un

Com. Well said, ma'am; I love a woman of der which disguises we may intercept the country

spirit.

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Gay. That's impossible.

Slang. Your mistress is to be married to another, and that quickly.

Gay. Married! you surprise me-to whom? Slang. To 'squire Sapskull, a Yorkshire gentleman, of a very great estate.

Gay. Confusion! Can she be so false? To Sapskull! I know him well, of Sapskull-HallI was born within a mile and a half of the place; his father is the greatest rogue in the county, the very man I am now suing for what my late brother mortgaged to him, when I was student at Cambridge. Is he not content to withhold my right from me, but he must seek to rob me of the only happiness I desire in life?

AIR.-The charms of Florimel.

My charming Arabell,

To make thee mine secure,
What would not I endure!

'Tis past the power of tongue to tell,
The love I bear my Arabell.

No human force shall quell
My passion for my dear,
Can love be too sincere?
I'd sooner take of life farewel,
Then of my dearest Arabell.

Is there no way to prevent this match? You were
not used to be thus barren of invention.

'squire, and get his credentials; equipt with which I leave you to guess the rest.

Gay. Happy invention! Success attend it! Slang. I can't say Amen, though I'd do any thing to serve you. Do you know the result, sir? no less than the forfeiture of your dear liberty. Have you forgot the song of The Dog and the

Bone?

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Blun. Ay, master, and this is nought to what you'll see an by; and ye go to Tower ye mun see great hugeous ships as tall as housen: Then ye mun go to playhousen, and there be no less nor six of them, a hopeful company; o' my conscience! There you'll see your comical tragedies, and your uproars, and roratoribusses, and hear Fardinello, that sings Solfa better nor our minister choir men: And more nor that, ye mun ba' your choice of the prattiest lasses, ye e'er set e'en on.

Sap. By the mass, and I'll be somebody among them-So I will-but how mun we find out this same sir Penurious Muckworm?

Blun. Ye mun look to letter for that. Sap. Letter says, G-r-o-z Groz-ve-n-e-r, near Grozveneer square;-but how mun ye know where this same Grosveneer squire is?

Blun. Why ye mun ask ostler for that, he'll set you right for sure: For your London ostlers are wiser by half than our country justasses. Sap. Ay, Blunder, every thing's fine in London.

AIR.-London is a fine town.

O London is a dainty place,
A great and gallant city,

For all the streets are paved with gold,
And all the folks are witty.

And there's your lords and ladies fine,
That ride in coach and six,
That nothing drink but claret wine,
And talk of politics.

And there's your beaux, with powdered

cloaths,

Bedaubed from head to chin; Their pocket holes adorned with gold, But not one souse within.

And there's the English actor goes
With many a hungry belly,

While heaps of gold are forced, God wot,
On signior Farrinelli.

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Gay. I had letters of your coming, and was resolved to meet you.

Sap. Pray, sir, who may you be, an' I may be so bold?

Gay. My name, sir, is Muckworm.
Sup. What, sir Penurious Muckworm?
Gay. So they call me.

Sap. Sir, if your name he sir Penurious Muckworm, my name is Samuel Sapskull, jun. esq. son of sir Samuel Sapskull, of Sapskull-hall, in the East Riding of Yorkshire.

Gay. Sir, I am no stranger to your family and merit; for which reason I sent for you to town, to marry my niece with 60001. fortune, and a pretty girl into the bargain.

Blun. Look ye there, master!

[Aside to BLUNder. Sup. Hold your peace, you blockhead! [Aside to SAPSKULL. Gay. But how may I be sure, that you are the very squire Sapskull I sent for? Have you no letters, no credentials?

-Yes,

Sap. Open the portmantell, Blundersir, I ha' brought all my tackle with me. Here, sir, is a letter from father. [Gives a letter.] And here, sir,,are deeds and writings, to shew what you mun ha' to trust to: And here, sir, is marriage-settlement, signed by father, in fit case young gentlewoman and I likes one another.

Gay. Sir, she can't chuse but admire so charming a person. There is but one obstacle that I know of.

Sap. What may that be, an I may be so bold? Gay. Your habit, sir; your habit. Sap. Why, sir, 'twas counted wondrous fine in our country last parlementeering time.

Gay. O, sir, but it's old fashioned now, and my niece loves every thing to the tip-top of the mode. But if you'll go along with me, I'll equip you in an instant.

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SCENE I.-An apartment. Enter ARBELLA and COMBRUSH.

AIR.-Set by the author.

Arb. In vain you mention pleasure,
To one confused like me,
Ah, what is wealth or treasure,
Compared to liberty?

O thou, for whom I languish,
And dost the same for me,
Relieve a virgin's anguish,

And set a captive free.

Enter MUCKWORM.

ACT II.

Muck. Come, there's a good girl, don't be in the pouts, now.

Com. I think it's enough to put any young lady in the pouts, to deny her the man she likes, and force her to marry a great looby Yorkshire tike. In short, sir, my mistress don't like him, and won't have him. Nay, I don't like him, and tell you flat and plain she shan't have him.

Muck. Shan't have him, Mrs Snap-Dragon! Com. No, shan't have him, sir; if I were she, I would see who should force me to marry against my will.

Muck. Was ever such an impudent hussy!

But I'll send you packing. Get out of my house, you saucy baggage!

Arb. Sir, though you have the care of my estate, you have no command over my servants :I am your ward, not your slave; if you use me thus, you'll constrain me to chuse another guardian.

Muck. [Aside.] A gypsey! who taught her this cunning? I must hasten this match, or lose 1000). by the bargain. [To ARB.] What a bustle is here with a peevish love-sick girl! Pray, child, have you learnt Cupid's catechism? Do you know what love is? Arb. Yes, sir

AIR.-Set by the author.

Love's a gentle generous passion, Source of all sublime de'ight, When, with mutual inclination,

Two fond hearts in one unite.

What are titles, pomp or riches,

If compared with true content? That false joy which now bewitches, When obtained we may repent.

Lawless passion brings vexation, But a chaste and constant love, Is the glorious emulation,

Of the blisful state above,

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