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is laid, and Bridgemore's visit is the signal above stairs-Our card was from lady Carofor springing it. line; I suppose she is not from home, as well as her brother.

Dr. D. Pridgemore's! How so? Lord A. Why, 'tis with him she lives; what Dr. D. Who waits there? show the ladies up. else could make it difficult, and what but dif- Bridge. Ay, ay, go up, and show your ficulty could make me pursue it? They pru-cloaths, I'll chat with doctor Druid here below. dently enough would have concealed her from [Exeunt Ladies.] I love to talk with men me; for who can think of any other, when that know the world: they tell me, sir, you've miss Aubrey is in sight?-But bark! they're travelled it all over.

come; I must escape-Now, love and fortune Dr. D. Into a pretty many parts of it. stand my friends! [Exit Bridge. Well, and what say you, sir? you're Dr.Ď. Pless us, what hastes and hurries glad to be at home; nothing I warrant like he is in! and all for some young hussy-Ah! old England. Ah! what's France, and Spain, he'll never have a proper relish for the vener-and Burgundy, and Flanders! no, old Engable antique: I never shall bring down his land for my money; 'tis worth all the world mercury to touch the proper freezing point, besides.

which that of a true virtuoso ought to stand Dr. D. Your pelly says as much; 'twill fill at: sometimes, indeed, he will contemplate a the pot, but starve the prain; 'tis full of corn, beautiful statue, as if it was a ooman; I never and sheep, and villages, and people: England, could persuade him to look upon a beautiful to the rest of the oorld, is like a flower-garden ooman, as if she was a statue.

to a forest.

Bridge. Well, but the people, sir; what Enter BRIDGEMORE, MRS. BRIDGEMORE, and say you to the people?

LUCINDA. Dr. D. Nothing: I never meddle with the Bridge. Doctor, I kiss your hands; I kiss human species; man, living man, is no obyour hands, good doctor.-How these nobles ject of my curiosity; nor ooman neither; at live! Zooks, what a swinging chamber! least, Mr. Pridgemore, till she shall be made

Mrs. B. Why, Mr. Bridgemore, sure you a mummies of. think yourself in Leathersellers'-hall.

Bridge. I understand you; you speak in

Luc. Pray recollect yourself, papa; indeed the way of trade; money's your object. this is not Fishstreet-hill. Dr. D. Money and trade! I scorn 'em Bridge. I wish it was: I'd soon unhouse both; the beaten track of commerce I disdain: this trumpery: I'd soon furnish it with better I've traced the Oxus, and the Po; traversed goods: why this profusion, child, will turn the Riphæan Mountains, and pierced into the your brain. inmost Tesarts of Kalmuc Tartary — follow Mrs. B. Law, how you stand and stare at trade indeed! no; I've followed the ravages things; stopping in the hall to count the ser- of Kouli Chan with rapturous delight: here vants, gaping at the lustre there, as if you'd is the land of wonders; finely depopulated; swallow it. I suppose our daughter, when gloriously laid waste; fields without a hoof to she's a woman of quality, will behave as other tread 'em; fruits without a hand to gather 'em ; women of quality do.-Lucinda, this is doctor with such a catalogue of pats, peetles, serDruid, lord Abberville's travelling tutor, a pents, scorpions, caterpillars, toads-oh! 'tis gentleman of very ancient family in North a recreating contemplation, to a philosophic Wales.

Luc. So it should seem, if he's the representative of it.

mind!

Bridge. Out on 'em, filthy vermin, I hope you left 'em where you found 'em. Dr. D. No, to my honour be it spoken, I

Dr. D. Without flattery, Mrs. Bridgemore, miss has very much the behaviours of an oo-have imported above fifty different sorts of man of quality already.

Mrs. B. Come, sir, we'll join the company, lord Abberville will think us late.

Dr. D. Yes truly, he's impatient for our coming; but you shall find him not at home. Mrs. B. How! Not at home?

mortal poisons into my native country. Bridge. Lack-a-day, there's people enough at home can poison their native country.

Enter MRS. BRIDGEMORE and LUCINDA.

Luc. A mighty proof of his impatience, So, ladies, have you finished your visit altruly.

ready?

Mrs. B. We've made our courtesies and

Dr. D. Why, 'twas some plaguy business took him out; but we'll dispatch it out of come away. band, and wait upon you quickly.

Bridge. Well, business, business must be done.

Mrs. B. I thought my lord had been a man of fashion, not of business.

Dr. D. Marry, the fates and the fortunes forbid that you should go, till my lord comes

I

back.

Luc. Why not? if my lord treats me already with the freedom of a husband, shouldn't Luc. And so he is; a man of the first fa- begin to practice the indifference of a wife? shion; you cannot have a fresher sample: the [Exeunt. worst gallant in nature is your macaroni; Dr. D. Well, but the supper, Mr. Pridgewith the airs of a coquette you meet the more; you a citizen, and leave the supper? manners of a clown: fear keeps him in some Bridge. Your fifty mortal poisons have giawe before the men, but not one spark of ven me my supper: scorpions, and bats, and passion has he at heart, to remind him of toads-come, let's be gone. [Exit. ihe ladies. Dr. D. Would they were in your pelly! [Exit.

Mrs. B. Well, we must make our courtesy

SCENE II.-An Apartment in BRIDGEMORE's never be taken as flattery by another: in short,

House.

my lord, I must entreat you to let the servants show you to some fitter apartment. I

Enter MISS AUBREY and TYRREL, and a am here in a very particular situation, and

Maid-servant with Lights.

have the strongest reasons for what I request. Aug. How I am watch'd in this house you Lord A. I guess your reasons, but cannot well know, Mr. Tyrrel; therefore you must admit them. I love you, madam; let that denot stay what you have done and suffer'd claration be my excuse.

for my sake I never can forget; and 'tis with Aug. Nay, now your frolic has the air of joy I see you now, at last, surmount your insult, and I insist upon your leaving me. difficulties by the recovery of lord Courtland: may your life never be again exposed on my

account.

Tyr. I glory in proctecting you: when he, or any other rake, repeats the like offence, Í shall repeat the like correction. I am now going to my uncle Mortimer, who does not know that I am in town. Life is not life without thee; never will I quit his feet, till I have obtained his voice for our alliance.

Aug. Alas! What hope of that from Mr. Mortimer, whose rugged nature knows no happiness itself, nor feels complacency in that of others?

Tyr. When you know Mr. Mortimer, you'll find how totally the world mistakes him. Farewell, my dear Augusta; back'd with thy virtuous wishes, how can I fail to prosper? [He goes out, and she enters an inner Apartment. The Maid-servant immediately introduces Lord Abberville. Sero. All's safe; follow me, my lord; she is in her bed-chamber.

Lord A. Where; where?

Serv. There; where you see the light through the glass-door. If I thought you had any wicked designs in your head, I wouldn't have brought you here for the world; I should be murder'd if the family were to know it: for pity's sake, my lord, never betray me.

[A rapping is heard at the Door. Luc. [From without] Who's within there? Aug. Hark, hark, miss Bridgemore, as I live.-Come in.

Luc. Come in! why you have lock'd the door.

Aug. Lock'd! is it lock'd?-for shame, for shame! thus am I sacrific'd to your ungenerous designs-she must come in.

Lord A. Stay, stay; she must not find me here; there's one retreat; your chamber; lock me in there: I may still escape.

Luc. [From without] What are you about, miss Aubrey? Let me in.

Aug. Where shall I turn myself? You've ruined all: if you're discovered, I shall never gain belief.

Lord A. Be advised then: we have only this chance left. [Goes to the Bed-room Door. Luc. Miss Aubrey, if you don't let¿me in immediately, I shall call up mamma; so pray unlock the door.

Aug. I scarce know what I do. [After locking Lord Abberville in, opens the outward Door] There, madam, you're obeyed.

Luc. Why, surely, you affect extraordinary privacy. It seems you've had your Tyrrel in our absence.

Aug. Yes, Mr. Tyrrel has been here.
Luc. Humph! you're in mighty spirits.

Aug. No, madam; my poor spirits suit my poor condition: you, I hope, are rich in every sense.

Lord A. Go, get you gone; never talk of treason, my thoughts are full of love. [The Maid-servant goes out] First I'll secure the door: 'twill not be amiss to bar this retreat. Luc. She's happy I can see, though she [Locks the Door, and advances to the Glass- attempts to hide it: I can't bear her. [Aside] door] Ay, there she is! How pensive is -Pray, miss Aubrey, what are your designs that posture!-Musing on her condition; which, -to ruin this young man? in truth, is melancholy enough: an humble Aug. Madam! cousin to a vulgar tyrant.-'Sdeath, she can- Luc. Can you now in your heart suppose not choose but jump at my proposals.-See, that Mortimer will let his nephew marry you? she weeps.-I'm glad on't-Grief disposes to Depend upon't (I tell you as your friend) as compliance-Tis the very moment to assail soon as that old cynic hears of it (which I have taken care he shall), your hopes are

her.

[She comes to the Door, with the Candle crushed at once. in her Hand; seeing Lord Abberville,

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Lord A. Hush, hush; your screams will rouse the house.-'Tis I, miss Aubrey — 'tis lord Abberville-Give me your hand-Nay, be composed. Let me set down the candle: you are safe.

Aug. When were they otherwise? Luc. I don't know what to make of hershe seems confus'd-her eyes wander strangely: watching the bed-room door-what is it she looks at?

Aug. Where are you going?

Luc. Going! Nay, no where-she's alarm ed-miss Aubrey, I have a foolish notion in my head, that Mr. Tyrrel's in this house.

Aug. No, on my word-shall I light you

Aug. Safe, my lord! Yes, I'm safe; but you are mistaken; miss Bridgemore's not at to your room? home; or, if she was, this is no place to meet her in.

Lord A. I'm glad of that; bless'd in miss Aubrey's company, I wish no interruption from miss Bridgemore.

Aug. I should be loath to think so; an avowal of baseness to one woman, should

Luc. So ready!-No; your own will serve I can adjust my head-dress at your glassHey-day; all's fast-you've locked the doorAug. Have I, indeed?

Luc. Yes, have you, madam; and if my suspicion's true, your lover's in it-open it. Aug. I beg to be excused.

Luc. Oh! are you caught at last? Admit me. Aug. You cannot sure be serious-think I've the sanction of a guest.

Luc. Ridiculous! I'll raise the house-let me come to the bell.

ACT II.

SCENE I-A Library in MORTIMER'S House.
MORTIMER alone.

Mort. So! so! another day; another twelve Aug. Hold! hold! you don't know what hours round of folly and extravagance: 'pshaw! you do for your own sake desist: to save I am sick on't. What is it our men of geyour own confusion, more than mine, desist, nius are about? Jarring and jangling with each other, while a vast army of vices over

:

and seek no further.

Enter JARVIS.

Luc. No, madam; if I spare you, may the runs the whole country at discretion. shame that waits for you fall on my head. Aug. At your own peril be it then! Look there. [Opens and discovers Lord Abberville. Now, Jarvis, what's your news? Luc. Astonishing! Lord Abberville! This is

Jar. My morning budget, sir, a breakfast indeed extraordinary; this, of all frolics mo- of good deeds the offerings of a full heart, dern wit and gallantry have given birth to, and the return of an empty purse. There, is in the newest and the boldest style. sir, 've done your errand; and wish hereafter you could find another agent for your charities.

Lord A. Upon my life, miss Bridgemore,

my visit has been entirely innocent.

Luc. Oh, yes! I give you perfect credit for Mort. Why so, Charles? your innocence; the hour, the place, your Jar. Because the task grows heavy; besides, lordship's character, the lady's composure, all I'm old and foolish, and the sight is too afare innocence itself. Can't you affect a little fecting.

surprise, ma'am, at finding a gentleman in Mort. Why doesn't do like me, then? your bed-room, though you placed him there Sheath a soft heart in a rough case, 'twill yourself? So excellent an actress might pre-wear the longer; veneer thyself, good Jarvis, tend a fit on the occasion: Oh, you have not as thy master does, and keep a marble outhalf your part. side to the world. Who dreams that I am

Lord A. Indeed, miss Bridgemore, you look the lewd fool of pity, and thou my pander, upon this in too serious a light. Jarvis, my provider? You found out the poor Luc. No: be assured I'm charmed with your fellow then, the half-pay officer I met last address; you are a perfect fashionable lover: Sunday

so agreeable to invite us to your house, so Jar. With difficulty; for he obtruded not well-bred to be from home, and so consider- his sorrows on the world; but in despair had ate to visit poor miss Aubrey in our ab- crept into a corner, and, with his wretched sence: altogether, I am puzzled which to family about him, was patiently expiring. prefer, your wit, politeness, or your honour. Mort. Pr'ythee, no more on't you sav'd Aug. Miss Bridgemore, 'tis in vain to urge him; you reliev'd him; no matter how; you my innocence to you; heaven and my own made a fellow-creature happy, that's enough. heart acquit me; I must endure the censure Jar. I did, sir; but his story's so affectingMort. Keep it to thyself, old man, then; Luc. O madam, with lord Abberville's pro- why must my heart be wrung? I too am one tection you may set that at nought: to him of nature's spoilt children, and hav'n't yet left I recommend you: your company in this off the tricks of the nursery.

of the world.

house will not be very welcome. [Exit. Lord A. [To her, as she goes out] Then, madam, she shall come to mine; my house,

Enter Servant.

Mort. Let him come in.

Enter TYRREL.

Serv. Sir, Mr. Tyrrel's come to town, and my arms are open to receive her. - Fear begs to see you. nothing, set her at defiance; resign yourself to my protection; you shall face your tyrant, outface her, shine above her, put her down in splendour as in beauty; be no more the servile So, nephew, what brings you to town? I thing her cruelty has made you; but be the thought you was a prisoner in the country. life, the leader of each public pleasure, the envy of Tyr. I was; but now my lord Courtland all womankind, the mistress of my happiness- has obtained his liberty, no reason holds why Aug. And murderer of my own. No, no, I should not recover mine.

my lord, I'll perish first: the last surviving Mort. Well, sir, how have you fill'd up orphan of a noble house, I'll not digrace it: your time? In practising fresh thrusts, or refrom these mean, unfeeling people, who to penting of that which is past? You've drawn the bounty of my ancestors owe all they your sword to satisfy one man, now think of have, I shall expect no mercy; but you, whom satisfying the rest of mankind.

even pride might teach some virtue, you to Tyr. You know my story, sir: I drew my tempt me, you with unmanly cunning to se- sword in the defence of innocence; to punish duce distress yourself created, sinks you deep- and repel the libertine attempts of an ennoer in contempt than heaven sinks me in po- bled ruffian; every man of honour would have verty and shame. [Exit. done the same.

are

Lord 4. A very unpromising campaign truly; Mort. Yes, honour: you young men one lady lost, and the other in no way of subtle arguers; the cloak of honour covers being gained. Well, I'll return to my com- all your faults, as that of passion all your pany; there is this merit however in gaming, follies.

that it makes all losses appear trivial but its Tyr. Honour is what mankind have made [Exit. it; and as we hold our lives upon these terms

own.

with our lives it behoves us to defend them. Cotin. Ah, maister Mortimer, it makes my Mort. You have made it reason then it heart drop blude to think how much gude seems; make it religion too, and put it out counsel I ha' cast away upon my laird; ifaith of fashion with the world at once: of this be I hanua' stinted him o'that; I gee'd him rules sure, I would sooner cast my guineas in the and maxims of gude husbandry in plenty, but sea, than give 'em to a duellist. But come, aw in vain, the dice ha' deafen'd him.' Frank, you are one from prejudice, not prin- Mort. Yes, and destroyed; his head, heart, ciple: therefore we'll talk no more on't. Where happiness are gone to ruin; the least a gameare you lodged? ster loses is his money.

Tyr. At the hotel hard by.

Colin. Ecod and that's no trifle in this case: Mort. Then move your baggage hither, and last night's performances made no small hole keep house with me: you and I, nephew, in that. have such opposite pursuits that we can never Mort. Whence learn you that? justle; besides, they tell me you're in love; Colin. From little Naphthali of St. Mary 'twill make a good companion of you; you Axe: when a man borrows money of a Jew, shall rail at one sex, while I'm employed 'tis a presumption no Christian can be found with t'other, and thus we may both gratify to lend him any. our spleen at once.

lo

Mort. Is your lord driven to such wretched Tyr. O, sir, unless you can consent to hear shifts? the praises of my lovely girl, from hour to Colin. Hoot! know you not that every hour, in endless repetition, never suffer me sing gamester has his Jew? He is your only within your doors. doctor in a desperate case; when the reguMort. Thy girl, Frank, is every thing but lars have brought you to death's door, the rich, and that's a main blank in the catalogue quack is invited to usher you in. of a lady's perfections. Mort. Your Jew, Colin, in the present case,

Tyr. Fill it up then, dear uncle; a word favours more of the lawyer than the doctor: of your's will do it. for I take it he makes you sign and seal as

Mort. True, boy, a word will do it; but long as you have effects. 'tis a long word; 'tis a lasting one; it should Colin. You've hit the nail o'the hede; my be, therefore, a deliberate one; but let me see laird will sign to any thing; there's bonds, your girl; I'm a sour fellow; so the world and blanks, and bargains, and promissory nothinks of me; but it is against the proud, the tes, and a damn'd sight of rogueries, depend rich I war: poverty may be a misfortune to on't. Ecod he had a bundle for his breakfast, miss Aubrey; it would be hard to make it an as big as little Naphtali could carry; I would objection. it had braken his bock1); and yet he is na' Tyr. How generous is that sentiment!-half the knave of yon fat fellow upon FishLet me have your consent for my endeavours street-hill. at obtaining her's, and I shall be most happy. Mort. Bridgemore, you mean. Mort. About it then; my part is soon made Colin. Ay, ay, he's at the bottom of the ready; yours is the task: you are to find out plot; this little Hebrew's only his jackall. happiness in marriage; I'm only to provide Mort. I comprehend you: Bridgemore, unyou with a fortune. [Exit Tyrrel] Well, der cover of this Jew, has been playing the Frank, I suspected thou hadst more courage usurer with lord Abberville, and means to than wit, when I heard of thy engaging in a pay his daughter's portion in parchment; this duel; now thou art for encount'ring a wife, must be prevented.

I am convinc'd of it. A wife! 'sdeath, sure Colin. You may spare your pains for that; some planetary madness reigns amongst our the match is off. wives; the dog-star never sets, and the moon's horns are fallen on our heads.

Enter COLIN MACLEOD. Colin. The gude time o'day to you, gude maister Mortimer.

Mort. Well, Colin, what's the news at your house?

Mort. Hey-day, friend Colin, what has put off that?

Colin. Troth, maister Mortimer, I canna' satisfy you on that hede; but yesternight the job was done; methought the business never had a kindly aspect from the first.

Mort. Well, as my lord has got rid of miss, I think he may very well spare her fortune.

Colin. Nay, no great spell1) of news, gude faith; aw 2) things with us gang on after the Colin. Odzooks, but that's no reason he auld sort. I'm weary of my life amongst 'em; should lose his own. the murrain take 'em all, sike3) a family of Mort. That, Colin, may be past my power freebooters, maister Mortimer; an I speak a to hinder; yet even that shall be attempted: word to 'em, or preach up a little needful find out the Jew that Bridgemore has emeconomy, hoot! the whole clan is up in arms. ployed, and bring him hither, if you can. I may speak it in your ear, an the de'il him- Colin. Let me alone for that; there never sell was to turn housekeeper, he could na' was a Jew since Samson's time that Colin pitch upon a fitter set; fellows of all trades, could na' deal with; an he hangs bock, and countries, and occupations; a ragamuffin crew; will na' follow kindly, troth, I'll lug him to the very refuse of the mob, that canna' count you by the ears; ay, will I, and his maister past twa generations without a gibbet in their the fat fellow into the bargain.

Mort. No, no, leave me to deal with Bridge

scutcheon. Mort. Ay, Colin, things are miserably more; I'll scare away that cormorant; if the chang'd since your old master died. son of my noble friend will be undone, it ne

1) Quantity.

2) All.

3) Such.

1) Broke his back.

ver shall be said he fell without an effort on Dr. D. Coot truth, Mr. Pridgemore, 'tis my part to save him. [Exit. hard to say which collection is the most barm

Enter MRS. BRIDGEMORE.

Colin. By heaven, you speak that like a less of the two. noble gentleman. Ab, maister Mortimer, in England, he that wants money, wants every thing; in Scotland, now, few have it, but every one can do without it. [Exit.

Mrs. B. I'm out of patience with you, Mr. Bridgemore, to see you stir no brisker in this business; with such a storm about your ears, idle as a Dutch sailor in a

SCENE II.-An Apartment in BRIDGEMORE's you stand as trade-wind.

House.

Bridge. Truly, love, till you come in, I

Enter BRIDGEMORE and DR. DRUID. heard nothing of the storm. Bridge. But what is all this to me, doctor? Mrs. B. Recollect the misadventure of last while I have a good house over my head, night; the wickedness of that strumpet you what care if the pyramids of Egypt were have harboured in your house; that viper, sunk into the earth? London, thank heaven, which would never have had strength to sting, will serve my turn.

Dr. D. Ay, ay, look ye, I never said it wasn't coot enough for them that live in it. Bridge. Good enough! Why what is like it? Where can you live so well.

hadn't you warm'd it in your bosom.

Dr. D. Faith and truth now, I havn't heard better reasoning from an ooman this many a day; you shall know Mr. Pridgemore, the viperous species love warmth; their sting, Dr. D. No where, coot truth, 'tis all cooks'-look ye, is then more venomous; but draw shops and putchers'-shambles; your very streets their teeth, and they are harmless reptiles; have savoury names; your Poultry, your Pye-the conjurers in Persia play a thousand fancorner, and Pudding-lane, your Bacon-alley, cies and fagaries with 'em.

and Fishstreet-hill here; o'my oord, the map Bridge. But I'm no Persian, doctor.
of London would furnish out an admirable
pill of fare for a lord mayor's dinner,

Mrs. B. No, nor conjurer neither; you would not else have been the dupe thus of a paltry

Bridge. Well, doctor, I'm contented with girl. Fishstreet-hill; you may go seek for lodgings yonder in the ruins of Palmyra.

a Tartar

Dr. D. A girl, indeed! why all the European world are made the dupes of girls: the Dr. D. Ruins indeed! what are all your Asiatics are more wise; saving your presence new buildings, up and down yonder, but now, I've seen a Turkish pacha or ruins? Improve your town a little further, chan rule threescore, ay, three hundred wives, and you'll drive every man of sense out of with infinite more ease and quiet, than you it; pless us, and save us, by-and-by not a can manage one.

monument of antiquity will be left standing Mrs. B. Manage your butterflies, your hats, from London-stone to Westminster-hall. and beetles, and leave the government of wiBridge. And if the commissioners of paving ves to those who have 'em: we stand on would mend the streets with one, and pre- British ground as well as our husbands; magna sent t'other as a nuisance, bone-setters and charta is big enough for us both; our bill of lawyers would be the only people to complain. divorce is a full match for their bill of rights Dr. D. Down with 'em then at once, down at any time: we have our commons, doctor, with every thing noble, and venerable, and as well as the men; and I believe our priviancient amongst you; turn the Tower of Lon-leges are as well managed here at St. Paul's, don into a Pantheon, make a new Adelphi of as theirs are yonder at St. Stephen's. the Savoy, and bid adieu to all ages but your Dr. D. Your privileges, Mrs. Pridgemore, own; you will then be no more in the way are not to be disputed by any in this compaof deriving dignity from you progenitors, than ny; and, if miss is as well instructed in her's, you are of transmitting it to your posterity. I wish my lord Abberville joy of his release;

Enter LUCINDA.

[Exit.

Luc. What did the fellow say? Who sent

Bridge. Well, doctor, well, leave me my that's all. opinion and keep your own; you've a veneration for rust and cobwebs; I am for brushing them off wherever I meet them: we are for furnishing our shops and warehouses with that old mummy hither? good profitable commodities; you are for Bridge. He came upon a qualifying messtoring 'em with all the monsters of the crea-sage from lord Abberville, as I believe; but tion: I much doubt if we could serve you 'tis such an extravagant old blade1), he got with a dried rattlesnake, or a stuft alligator, amongst the pyramids of Egypt, before he in all the purlieus of Fishstreet-hill.

Dr. D. A stuft alligator! A stuft alderman would be sooner had.

could well bring it out.

Mrs. B. I would he was there, and his pupil with him; don't you see what a condition our poor girl is thrown into?

Luc. I into a condition! No; they shall never have to say they threw me into a condition. I may be angry, but I scorn to own

Bridge. May be so; and let me tell you an antiquarian is as much to seek in the city of London, as an alderman would be in the ruins of Herculaneum; every man after his own way, that's my maxim: you are for the I'm disappointed. paltry ore; I am for the pure gold; I dare Bridge. That's right, child; sure there are be sworn now, you are as much at home more men in the world besides lord Abberville. amongst the snakes and serpents at Don Sal- Luc. Law, papa! your ideas are so gross, tero's, as I am with the Jews and jobbers at as if I car'd for any of the sex, if he hadn't Jonathan's. 1) Fellow.

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