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Aug. Don Juan Corduba has left a hundred ducats, to remember him in our masses.

Paul. Has he? let them be paid to our wine merchant, and we'll remember him in our cups, which will do just as well. Any thing more?

Bloated I am, indeed! for fasting is a windy recreation, and it hath swoln me like a bladder. Ant. But thou hast a good fresh colour in thy_face, father; rosy, i̇'faith.

Paul. Yes, I have blushed for mankind, till the hue of my shame is as fixed as their vices. Isaac. Good man!

Aug. Yes; Baptista, the rich miser, who died last week, has bequeathed us a thousand Paul. And I have laboured too, but to what pistoles, and the silver lamp he used in his purpose? they continue to sin under my own chamber, to burn before the image of very nose. St. Anthony.

Isaac. Ifecks, father, I should have guessed Paul. Twas well meant, but we'll employ as much, for your nose seems to be put to his money better-Baptista's bounty shall light the blush more than any other part of your the living, not the dead.-St. Anthony is not face. afraid to be left in the dark, though he was— Paul. Go, you're a wag.

See who's there.

[A knocking, Francis goes to the door, and opens it.

Enter PORTER.

Porter. Here's one without in pressing haste to speak with Father Paul.

Francis. Brother Paul!

[Paul comes from behind a curtain, with a glass of wine, and in his Hand a piece of cake.

Paul. Here! how durst you, fellow, thus abruptly break in upon our devotions?

Porter. I thought they were finished.
Paul. No, they were not-were they, Brother
Francis?

Francis. Not by a bottle each.

Ant. But, to the purpose, father-will you officiate for us?

Paul. To join young people thus clandestinely is not safe: and, indeed, I have in my heart many weighty reasons against it.

Ant. And I have in my hand many weighty reasons for it. Isaac, hav'n't you an argument or two in our favour about you?

Isaac. Yes, yes; here is a most unanswerable purse.

Paul. For shame! you make me angry: you forget who I am, and when importunate people have forced their trash-ay, into this pocket, here-or into this-why, then the sin was theirs. [They put money into his pockets] Fie, now how you distress me! I would return it, but that I must touch it that way, and so wrong my oath.

Ant. Now then, come with us.

Isaac. Ay, now give us your title to joy and rapture.

Paul. Well, when your hour of repentance comes, don't blame me.

Paul. But neither you nor your fellows mark how the hours go-no, you mind nothing but the gratifying of your appetites: ye eat and swill, and sleep, and gormandize, and thrive, while we are wasting in mortification. Porter. We ask no more than nature craves. Paul. 'Tis false, ye have more appetites Ant. No bad caution to my friend Isaac. than hairs! and your flushed, sleek, and pam- [Aside] Well, well, father, do you do your pered appearance is the disgrace of our order-part, and I'll abide the consequence. out on't- If you are hungry, can't you be content with the wholesome roots of the earth; and if you are dry, isn't there the crystal spring? [Drinks] Put this away, [Gives a glass and show me where I'm wanted. [Porter draws the glass. - Paul, going, turns] So, you would have drank it, if there had been any left. Ah, glutton! glutton! [Exeunt.

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Isaac. Ay, and so will I. [They are going.

Enter LOUISA, running.

Louisa. O, Antonio, Ferdinand is at the porch, and inquiring for us.

Isaac. Who? Don Ferdinand! he's not inquiring for me, I hope.

Ant. Fear not, my love; I'll soon pacify him. Isaac. Egad, you won't-Antonio, take my most unmerciful dog! and has the cursedest advice, and run away: this Ferdinand is the long sword!-and, upon my soul, he comes on purpose to cut your throat.

Isaac. To marry us, good Father Paul; and in truth thou dost look the very priest of a Hymen.

Ant. Never fear, never fear.

Isaac. Well, you may stay if you will; but I'll get some one to marry me; for, by St. Iago, he shall never marry me again, while I am master of a pair of heels. [Runs out.

Enter FERDINAND.

Ferd. So, sir, I have met with you at last.
Ant. Well, sir.

Ferd. Base, treacherous man! whence can false, deceitful soul, like yours, borrow confidence to look so steadily on the man you've

Paul. In short, I may be called so: for I injured? deal in repentance and mortification. Ant. Ferdinand, you are too warm: - 'tis Isaac. No, no, thou seemest an officer of true you find me on the point of wedding Hymen, because thy presence speaks content one I love beyond my life; but no argument and good humour. of mine prevailed on her to elope - I scorn Paul. Alas! my appearance is deceitful.-deceit, as much as you- By Heaven I knew

not she had left her father's, till I saw her.

Wordy vows of feign'd regard;
Well he knows when they're sincere,
Never slow to give reward:
For his glory is to prove

Kind to those who wed for love. [Exeunt.
SCENE VII.-A Grand Saloon.

Ferd. What a mean excuse! You have wronged your friend, then, for one, whose wanton forwardness anticipated your treachery -of this, indeed, your Jew pander informed me; but let your conduct be consistent, and since you have dared to do a wrong, follow me, and show you have a spirit to avow it. Enter DON JEROME, Servants, and LOPEZ, Louisa. Antonio, I perceive his mistake— Jerome. Be sure now let every thing be in leave him to me. the best order- let all my servants have on Paul. Friend, you are rude, to interrupt their merriest faces-but tell them to get a the union of two willing hearts. little drunk as possible, till after supper. So, Ferd. No, meddling priest, the hand he seeks Lopez, where's your master? sha'n't we have is mine. him at supper?

Paul. If so, I'll proceed no further. Lady, did you ever promise this youth your hand? I

Lopez. Indeed, I believe not, sir-he's mad, doubt; I'm sure he has frighted me from him. [To Louisa, who shakes her head. Jerome. Ay, ay, he's after some wench, I Ferd. Clara, I thank you for your silence-suppose? a young rake! Well, well, we'll be I would not have heard your tongue avow merry without him. such falsity, be't your punishment to remember I have not reproached you.

Enter CLARA.

Clara. What mockery is this? f

Ferd. Antonio, you are protected now, but we shall meet.

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[Going, Clara holds one Arm, and
Louisa the other.

DUET.

Louisa. Turn thee round, I

pray thee,
Calm awhile thy rage.

Clara. I must help to stay thee,
And thy wrath assuage.

Louisa. Couldst thou not discover
One so dear to thee?

Clara, Canst thou be a lover,

And thus fly from me? [Beth unveil. Ferd. How's this! my sister! Clara tooI'm confounded.

Louisa. Tis even so, good brother. Paul. How! what impiety! Did the man want to marry his own sister?

Louisa. And ar'n't you ashamed of yourself, not to know your own sister?

Clara. To drive away your own mistressLouisa. Don't you see how jealousy blinds people?

Enter Servant.
Serv. Sir, here is Signior Isaac.

Enter ISAAC.

Jerome. So, my dear son-in-law-there, take my blessing and forgiveness.-But where's my daughter? where's Louisa?

Isaac. She's without, impatient for a bless ing, but almost afraid to enter.

Jerome. Oh, fly and bring her in. [En Isaak] Poor girl, I long to see her pretty face. Isaac. [Without] Come, my charmer! my trembling angel!

Enter ISAAC and DUENNA; DON JEROME runs to meet them; she kneels. -Jerome. Come to my arms, my-[Starts back] Why, who the devil have we here?

Isaac. Nay, Don Jerome, you promised her forgiveness; see how the dear creature droops! Jerome. Droops indeed! Why, gad take me, this is old Margaret-but where's my daughter, where's Louisa?

Isaac. Why, here, before your eyes-nay, don't be abashed, my sweet wife!

Jerome. Wife with a vengeance! Why, zounds, you have not married the Duenna! Duenna. [Kneeling] O, dear papa! you'll

Clara. Ay, and will you ever be jealous not disown me, sure! again?

Jerome. Papa! papa! Why, zounds, your

Ferd. Never-never-you, sister, I know impudence is as great as your ugliness! will forgive me-but how, Clara, shall I pre

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Isaac. Rise, my charmer, go throw your snowy arms about his neck, and convincr him you are

Duenna. Oh, sir, forgive me!
[Embraces him

Jerome. Help! murder!

Servants. What's the matter, sir? Jerome. Why, here, this damned Jew ha brought an old harridan to strangle me.

Isaac. Lord, it is his own daughter, and he is so hard-hearted he won't forgive her

Enter ANTONIO and LOUISA; they kneel Jerome. Zounds and fury! what's here now? who sent for you, sir, and who the devil are you?

Ant. This lady's husband, sir.

Isaac. Ay, that he is, I'll be sworn; for l left them with the priest, and was to have given her away.

Jerome. You were?

Isaac. Ay; that's my honest friend, An- to talk of beauty?—A walking rouleau !—a tonio: and that's the little girl, I told you I had hampered him with.

Jerome. Why, you are either drunk or mad-this is my daughter.

Isaac. No, no; 'tis you are both drunk and mad, I think-here's your daughter.

Jerome. Hark ye, old iniquity, will you explain all this, or not?

body that seems to owe all its consequence to the dropsy!-a pair of eyes like two dead beetles in a wad of brown dough!-a beard like an artichoke, with dry shrivelled jaws, that would disgrace the mummy of a monkey! Jerome. Well done, Margaret!

Duenna, But you shall know that I have a brother, who wears a sword - and if you

Isaak. Fire seize your brother, and you too! I'll fly to Jerusalem, to avoid you!

Duenna. Come then, Don Jerome, I will-don't do me justicethough our habits might inform you all-look on your daughter, there, and on me. Isaac. What's this I hear? Duenna. The truth is, that in your passion this morning, you made a small mistake; for you turned your daughter out of doors, and locked up your humble servant.

Isaac. O lud! O lud! here's a pretty fellow, to turn his daughter out of doors, instead of an old Duenna.

Jerome. And, O lud! here's a pretty fellow, to marry an old Duenna instead of my daughter-but how came the rest about?

Duenna. Fly where you will, I'll follow yon.

Jerome. Throw your snowy arms about him, Margaret. [Exeunt Isaac and Duenna] -But, Louisa, are you really married to this modest gentleman?

Louisa. Sir, in obedience to your commands, I gave him my hand within this hour. Jerome. My commands!

Ant. Yes, sir; here is your consent, under your own hand.

Duenna. I have only to add, that I reJerome. How! would you rob me of my mained in your daughter's place, and had the child by a trick, a false pretence? and do you good fortune to engage the affections of my think to get her fortune by the same means ? Why, 'slife, you are as great a rogue as

sweet husband here.

Isaac. Her husband! why, you old witch, Isaac! do you think I'll be your husband now? this Ant. No, Don Jerome; though I have prois a trick, a cheat, and you ought all to be fited by this paper, in gaining your daughter's ashamed of yourselves. hand, I scorn to obtain her fortune by deceit. Ant. Hark ye, Isaac, do you dare to com- There, sir. [Gives a Letter] Now give her plain of tricking?-Don Jerome, I give you your blessing for a dower, and all the little my word, this cunning Portuguese has brought I possess shall be settled on her in return. all this upon himself, by endeavouring to Had you wedded her to a prince, he could overreach you, by getting your daughter's do no more.

fortune, without making any settlement in Jerome. Why, gad take me, but you are

return.

Jerome. Overreach me!

Louisa. Tis so, indeed, sir, and we prove it to you.

a very extraordinary fellow! But have you the impudence to suppose no one can do a can generous action but yourself? Here, Louisa, tell this proud fool of yours, that he's the only man I know that would renounce your fortune; and, by my soul, he's the only man in Spain that's worthy of it. There, bless you both: I'm an obstinate old fellow when I'm in the wrong; but you shall now find me steady in the right.

Jerome. Why, gad take me, it must be so, or he could never have put up with such a face as Margaret's-so, little Solomon, I wish you joy of your wife, with all my soul.

Louisa. Isaac, tricking is all fair in love let you alone for the plot.

Ant. A cunning dog, ar'n't you? A sly little villain, heh?

Louisa. Roguish, perhaps; but keen, ish keen.

Jerome. Yes, yes; his aunt always him little Solomon.

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Enter FERDINAND and CLARA. Another wonder still! why, sirrah! Ferdinand, you have not stole a nun, have you?

Ferd. She is a nun in nothing but her habit, sir-look nearer, and you will perceive Isaac. Why, the plagues of Egypt upon 'tis Clara D'Almanza, Don Guzman's daughyou all!-but do you think I'll submit to such ter; and, with pardon for stealing a wedding, an imposition?

own art.

she is also my wife.

a

Ant. Isaak, one serious word-you'd better Jerome. Gadsbud, and a great fortune.be content as you are; for, believe me, you Ferdinand, you are a prudent young rogue, will find, that, in the opinion of the world, and I forgive you: and, ifecks, you are there is not a fairer subject for contempt and pretty little damsel. Give your father-in-law ridicule, than a knave become the dupe of his a kiss, you smiling rogue. Clara. There, old gentleman; and now mind Isaac. I don't care-I'll not endure this. you behave well to us. Don Jerome, 'tis you have done this - you Jerome. Ifecks, those lips ha'n't been chilled would be so cursed positive about the beauty by kissing beads-Egad, I believe I shall grow of her you locked up, and all the time, I told the best humoured fellow in Spain - Lewis! you she was as old as my mother, and as Sancho! Carlos! d'ye hear? are all my doors ugly as the devil. thrown open? Our children's weddings are Duenna. Why, you little insignificant the only holidays our age can boast; and then reptile! we drain, with pleasure, the little stock of Jerome. That's right-attack him, Margaret. spirits time has left us. [Music within] But Duenna. Dare such a thing as you pretend see, here come our friends and neighbours!

Enter MASQUERADERS.

Let us laugh and play, so blithe and gay, And, 'faith, we'll make a night on't, with wine, Till we banish care away. and dance, and catches-then old and young shall join us.

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Ant. Then healths to every friend,
The night's repast shall end,
With a heart at ease, merry, merry glees
Can never fail to please.

Clara. Nor, while we are so joyous,
Shall anxious fear annoy us;

Let us laugh and play, so blithe and gay,
Till we banish care away.

Jerome. For generous guests like these
Accept the wish to please;

So we'll laugh and play, so blithe and gay,
Your smiles drive care away.

[Exeunt.

FARCES.

HIGH LIFE BELOW STAIRS.
HIGH LIFE ABOVE STAIRS.

MAYOR OF GARRAT.
APPRENTICE.
WHO'S THE DUPE.

LYING VALET.
FORTUNE'S FROLIC.

HIGH LIFE BELOW STAIRS.

This after-piece was, for a long period, attributed to Mr. Garrick, but it is now known to have been the productin of the Rev. James Townley, the master of Merchant Tailors' School. The main idea of it appears to have been ag gested by the Spectator, No. 88, in which it is observed. "Falling-in the other day at a victualling-house near fe house of Peers, I heard the maid come down and tell the landlady at the bar, that my Lord Bishop swore he would throw her out at the window, if she did not bring up more mild beer, and that my Lord Duke would have a donkle mug of purl. My surprise was increased, in hearing loud and rustic voices speak and answer to each other spot the public affairs, by the names of the most illustrious of our nobility; till of a sudden one came running in, and cried the house was rising, Down came all the company together, and away! The ale-house was immediately Elled with clamour, and scoring one mug to the Marquis of such a place, oil and vinegar to such an Earl, three quarts to my bes Lord for welling his title, and so forth." A most important reform was effected, by this well-timed exposure, in Ur manners and habits of both servants and masters; the wastefulness and infidelity of the former were never more cospicuous than about 1759, when this piece was first acted Amidst all the fluctuations of dramatic taste, it has for mart than half a century received constant applause, and is on the stock-list of all the theatres in the kingdom.

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ACT I.

Lovel? I always told you, that there is not a worse set of servants in the parish of St. Enter FREEMAN and Lovel. Lov. Tis with some difficulty I believe à Free. A country boy! ha, ha, ha. How long now, Mr. Freeman; though, I must ow has this scheme been in your head? my expenses often make me stare:-Phiap, I Lov. Some time-I am now convinced of am sure, is an honest fellow; and I will swear what you have so often been hinting to me, for my blacks;-if there is a rogue amang m that I am confoundedly cheated by my servants. folks, it is that surly dog, Tom.

SCENE I.—An Apartment in FREEMAN's House. James than in your kitchen.

Free. Oh! are you satisfied at last, Mr. Free. You are mistaken in every one, Phi

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Send Robert to me - [Exit Servant] And kind.
what was it determined you upon this pro-
ject at last?

Lov. Oh, but we do insist-if you know any thing.

Lov. This letter. It is an anonymous one, Rob. Sir, I am but a servant myself, and and so ought not to be regarded; but it has it would not become me to speak ill of a something honest in it, and put me upon sa- brother servant. tisfying my curiosity. Read it.

[Gives the Letter.

Free. Psha! this is false honesty-speak out. Rob. Don't oblige me, good sir.-Consider, Free. I should know something of this sir, a servant's bread depends upon his chahand[Reads. racter.

To Peregrine Lovel, Esq.

Please your honour,—I take the liberty

Lov. But if a servant uses me ill-
Rob. Alas, sir, what is one man's poison

Free. You see how they trim for one another.
Rob. Service is no inheritance. A servant

to acquaint your honour, that you are sad- is another man's meat. ly cheated by your servants.-Your honour will find it as I say.—I am not willing to be known, whereof if 1 am, it may bring that is not approved in one place, may give one into trouble.-So no more, from your satisfaction in another. Every body must live, your honour.

honour's servant to command.
-Odd and honest! Well-and now what are
the steps you intend to take?

[Returns the Letter. Loc. I shall immediately apply to my friend the manager for a disguise-under the form of a gawky country boy, I will be an eyewitness of my servants behaviour.-You must assist me, Mr. Freeman.

Free. As how, Mr. Lovel?

Lov. My plan is this-I gave out that I was going to my borough in Devonshire, and yesterday set out with a servant in great form, and lay at Basingstoke.

Free. Well?—

Lov. I ordered the fellow to make the best of his way down into the country, and told him that I would follow him; instead of that, I turned back, and am just come to town: Ecce signum! [Points to his Boots. Free. It is now one o'clock. Lov. This very afternoon I shall pay my people a visit.

Free. How will you get in?

Lov. When I am properly habited, you shall get me introduced to Philip as one of your tenant's sons, who wants to be made a good servant of

Lov. Robert, I like your heartiness, as well as your caution; but in my case, it is necessary that I should know the truth.

Rob. The truth, sir, is not to be spoken at all times, it may bring one into trouble, whereof if—

Free. [Musing] Whereof if-Pray, Mr.
Lovel, let me see that letter again [Lovel gi-
ves the Letter]-Ay-it must be so-Robert.
Rob. Sir.

Free. D you know any thing of this letter?
Rob. Letter, your honour?

Free. I ask you if you were concerned in writing this letter.-You never told me a lie yet, and I expect the truth from you now.

Rob. Pray, your honour, don't ask me.
Free. Did you write it? answer me-
Rob. I cannot deny it.
[Bowing.

Loo. What induced you to it.

Rob. I will tell the truth!-I have seen such waste and extravagance, and riot and drunkenness, in your kitchen, sir, that, as my master's friend, I could not help discovering it to you.

Lov. Go on.

Rob. I am sorry to say it to your honour; but your honour is not only imposed on, but laughed at by all your servants; especially by Philip, who is a-very bad man.

Free. They will certainly discover you. Lov. Never fear, I'll be so countryfied that you shall not know me.-As they are thor- Lov. Philip? an ungrateful dog! Well! oughly persuaded I am many miles off, they'll Rob. I could not presume to speak to your be more easily imposed on. Ten to one but honour, and therefore I resolved, though but they begin to celebrate my departure with a a poor scribe, to write your honour a letter. drinking bout, if they are what you describe Lov. Robert, I am greatly indebted to you.

hem.

-Here

[Offers Money.

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