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Charles, but can't find him, and by Whisper's, his voice; I shall be beaten again. [Aside.
scouting at the end of the street, I suspect he Sir J. Nothing at all, sir! \Vhy then what
must be in the house again. I am informed business have you in my house, ha?
100 that he has borrowed a Spanish habit out Serv. You said you wanted a gentleman in
of the playhouse : what can it mean? a Spanish habit.
Enter a Servant of Sir Jealous TRAFFICK's binetto nor Meanwell.

Mar. Why ay, but his name is neither Ba-
to him out of the House.

Sir J. What is his name then, sirrah? Ha!
Hark'e, sir, do you belong to this house? now I look at you again, I believe you are
Serv. Yes, sir.


that threatened me with half a dozen Mar. Isn't your name Richard ?

myrmidons Sero: No, sir; Thomas.

Mar. Me, sir! I never saw your face in all Mar. Oh, ay, Thomas - Well, Thomas, my life before. there's a shilling for you.

Sir J. Speak, sir; who is it you look for? Sero. Thank you, sir.

or, or Mar. Pray, Thomas, can you tell if there Mar. A terrible old dog! [Aside) Why, be a gentleman in it in a Spanish habit? sir, only an honest young fellow of my ac

Sero. There's a Spanish gentleman within quaintance-I thought that bere might be a that is just a-going to marry my young lady, sir. ball, and that he might bare been bere in a

Mar. Are you sure he is a Spanish gentleman? masquerade.—'Tis Charles,'sir Francis Gripe's

Serv. I'm sure he speaks 'no English that I son-because I knew he us’d to come bitber hear of.

sometimes. Mar. Then that can't be him I want, for 'lis Sir J. Did be so ?--Not that I know of, I'm an English gentleman that I inquire after; he sure. Pray heaven that this be don Diegomay be dressed like a Spaniard, for aught 1 If I should be trickd now-Ha! my heart misknow.

gives me plaguily – Within there! slop the Sero. Ha! who knows but this may be an marriage-Run, sirrah, call all my servants! impostor? I'll inform my master, for if he I'll be satisfied that this is signior Pedro's son should be impos'd upon, he'll beat us all round. ere he has my daughter. (Aside] Pray come in, sir, and see if this be Mar. Ha! sir George! what bavel done now? the person you inquire for. Mar. Ay, I'll follow you—Now for it.

Enter Sır GEORGE AIRY, with a drawn Sword, [E.reunt.

between the Scenes. SCENE IV.-The Inside of the House.

Sir G. Ha! Marplot here-oh, the unlucky

dog-What's the matter, sir Jealous? Enter Marplot and Servant.

Sir J. Nay, I don't know the maller, Mr. Serv. Sir, please to stay here; I'll send my Meanwell. nuaster to you..


Mar. Upon my soul, sir GeorgeMar. So, this was a good contrivance. If

[Going up to Sir George, this be Charles now, he will wonder how I Sir J. Nay then, I'm betray'd, ruin'd, unfound him out.

done.-Thieves, traitors, rogues! [Offers to

go in] Stop the marriage, I sayRe-enter Servant and SIR JEALOUS TRAFFICK.

Sir G. I say go on, Mr. Tackum.–Nay, no Sir J. What is your carnest business, entering bere; I guard this passage, old genblockhead! that you must speak with me be- teman: the act and deed 'were both your fore the ceremony's past? Ha! who's this? own, and I'll see 'em sign'd, or die for'l.

Sero. Why this gentleman, sir, wants another gentleman in a Spanish habit, he says.

Enter Servant. Sir J. In a Spanish' habit! 'lis some friend Sir J. A pox on the act and deed! - Fall of signior don Diego's, I warrant. Sir, your on, knock him down. servant.

Sir G. Ay, come on, scoundrels! I'll prick Mar. Your servant, sir.

your jackets for you. Sir J. I suppose you would speak with Sir J. Zounds! sirrah, I'll be reveng'd on signior Babinetto.


[Beats Marplol. Mar. Sir!

Sir G. Ay, there your vengeance is due. Sir J. I say, I suppose you would speak Ha, ha! with signior Babinetto ?

Mar. Why, what do you beat me for? I Mar. Hey-day! what the devil does be say ban't married your daughter. now? [Aside | Sir, I don't understand you. Sir J. Rascals! why don't you knock him

Sir I. Don't you understand Spanish, sir? dową?
Mar. Not I indeed, sir.

Sero. We are afraid of his sword, sir: if Sir J. I thought you had known signior you'll take that from him, we'll knock him Babinello.

down presently. Mar. Not I, upon my word, sir. Sir J. What then, you'd speak with his

Enter CHARLES and ISABINDA. friend, the English merchant, Mr. Meanwell? Sir J. Seize her then.

Mar. Neither, sir, not I; I don't mean any Charles. Rascals, retire ; she's my wife such thing

touch her if you dare; I'll make dogs-meu! Sir J. Why, who are you then, sir? and of you. what do you want? [In an angry Tone. Mar. Ay, I'll make dogs-meat of you, rascals

Mar. Nay, nothing at all, not I, sir. — Pox Sir J. "Ah! downright English -- 'Oh, on him! I wish I were out; be begins to exalt

oh, oh!

sorrow, sir Jealous.


arrears, sir.

Enter Sir FrancIS GRIPE and MIRANDA. Mar. Now how the devil could she get those

Sir F. Into the house of joy we enter with writings, and I know nothing of it? out knocking-Ha! I think is the house of Sir F. What, have you robb'd me too,

mistress? 'Egad, I'll make you restore 'emSir J. Oh, sir Francis, are you come? hussy, I will so. What! was this your contrivance, to abuse, Sir J. Take care I don't make


the trick, and chouse me out of niy child ?

'Tis well 'tis no worse, since 'tis Sir F. My contrivance! what do you mean? po better. Come, young man, seeing thou

Sir J. No, you don't know your son there bast outwitted me, take her, and bless you both! in a Spanish habit?

Charles. I hope, sir, you'll bestow your Sir F. How! my son in a Spanish habit! blessing too; 'tis all I ask. [Kncels. Sirrab, you'll come to be hang’d. Get out of Mar. Do, Gardy, do. my sight, we dog! get out of my sight.

Sir F. Confound you all! [E.cit. Sir J. Get out of your sight, sir? get out Mar. Mercy upon us, how he looks! with your bags. Let's see what you'll give

Sir G. Ha, ha, ha! ne'er mind his curses, bim now to maintain my daughter on.

Charles; thou'lt thrive not one jot the worse Sir F. Give him! he shall never be the for 'em. Since this gentleman is reconcil'd beiter for a penny of mine-and you might we are all made happy. have look'd after your daughter better, sir Jea- Sir J. I always lov'd precaution, and took lous. Trick'd, quotha! 'Egad, I think you de- care to avoid dangers; but when a thing was sign'd to trick me: but lookye, gentlemen, 1 past, I ever had philosophy to be easy. believe I shall trick you both. This lady is Charles. Which is the true sign of a great my wife, do you see, and my estate shall de- soul. I lov'd your daughter, and she me, and scend only to her children.

you shall have no reason to repent her choice. Sir G. I shall be extremely obliged to you,

Isa. You will not blame me, sir, for loving sir Francis.

my own country besl. Sir F. Ha, ha, ba, ha! poor sir George!, Mar. So here's every body happy, I find, does not your bundred pounds stick in your but poor Pilgarlick. I wonder what satisfacstomach ? 'ha, ba, ha!

tion 'I shall have for being cuff’d, kick'd, and Sir G. No, faith, sir Francis, this lady has beaten in your service! giren m a cordial for that.

Sir J. I have been a little too familiar with [Takes her by the Hand. you as things are fallen out, but since there's Sir F. Hold, sir, you have nothing to say no help for', you must forgive me. to this lady.

Mar. 'Egad, I think so-but provided that Sir G. Voryou nothing to do with my wife, sir. you be not so familiar for the future. Sir F. Wife, sir !

Sir G. Thou hast been an unlucky rogue. Mir. Av, really, guardian, 'tis even so. I Mar. But very honest. hope you'll forgive my first offence.

Charles. That I'll vouch for, and freely forSir F. What, have you chous'd me out of give thee. og ennsent and your writings then, mistress, ha? Sir G. And I'll do you one piece of service Mir. Out of nothing but my own, guardian. more, Marplot; I'll take care that sir Francis

Sir J. Ha, ha, ha! 'tis some comfort at least makes you master of your estate. to see you are over-reach'd as well as myself. Mar. That will make me as happy as any of you. Will you settle your estate upon your son now? Sir J. Now let us in, and refresh ourselves Sir F. He shall starve first.

with a cheerful glass, in which we'll bury all Mir. That I have taken care to prevent. animosities; and Tbere, sir, are the writings of your uncle's By my example let all parents move, estate, which have been your due these three And never strive to cross their children's lore;

[Gives Charles Papers. But still submit that care to Providence above. Charles. I shall study to deserve this favour.



framt n born on the 6th of November, 0, S. 1671. His father, Cajus Gabriel Cibber, was a native of Hol“: si came into Eogland, to follow his profession of a stalnary, some time before the restoration of King Charles II. *-* tabs was the daughter of William Colley, Esq. uf Glaiston in Rullandshire. In 1682 he was sent to the free

Gratbaa in Lincolnshire, where he stayed till he got through it, from the lowest form to the uppermost;

learning as that school could give him is, as he himself acknowledges, the most he could pretend to. Ou The school, our author came to Nottingham, and found his father in arms there among the forces which the - Devonshire bad raised to aid the Prince of Orange, afterwards King William III, who had landed in the west. and , esssidering this a very proper season for a young fellow to distinguish himself in, entreated the Earl of toiste to accept of his son in his room, which his Lordship not only consented to, but even promised, that, when

** sere stued, he would further provide for him. During his period of attendance on this nobleman, however, a *** srplic and to the amasements of the theatre awakened in liim his passion for the stage, which he seemed now

*.22*** sa persaing as his summum bonum, and, in spite of fatber, mother, or friends, lo fix on as his ne plus ultrs. **** to 1715 we find him working through the difficulties of a poor salary at the theatre and the supporting by

ir af his pes a numerous family of children. In 1711 he became uniled, 2s joint-palenice with Collier, Wilks, ge", ia the management of Drury Lane theatre; and afterwards in a like partnership with Booth, Wilks, and Sir *** Steele. During this latter period, which did not entirely end till 1931, the English stage was perhaps in the

Amar og state it ever eojuged. After a namber of years, passed in the utmost case, gaiety, and good-humour, * tre Liu life, at lelington, on the 19th of December 1757 ; his man-servant (whom he bad talked to by his bed

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side at sis in the morning, in seeming good health) finding him dend at nine, lying on his pillow, just as he left him. He had recently completed his 86th year. "I was vain enough to think,” says he, "that I had more ways than one 10 come at applause and that, in the variety of characters I acted, the chances to win it were the strongest on my side. That, if the multitude were not in a roar to see me in Cardinal Wolsey, I could be sure of them in Alderman Rondlewise. If they hated me in Jago, in Sir Fopling they took me for a fine gentleman. If they were silent at Syphes, ne Italian cunuch was more applauded than I when I sung in Sir Courtly. In the morals of Aesor were loo grave for thom, Justice Shallow was as simple and as merry an old rake as the wisest of our young ones could wish me. And though the terror and detestation raised by King Richard might be lno severe a delight for them, yet the more gealle and modern ranities of a Poet Bayes, or the well-bred vices of a Lord Foppington, were not at all more than their merry hearts, or nicer morals, could bear."

In answer to Pope's attack upon him for plagiarism, Mr. Cimber candidly d-clares, that whenever he took upon him to make some dormant play of an old author fit for the stage, it was honestly not to be idle that set him to work, as a good housewife will mend old linen when se has no better employment; bat that, wlien he was more warmly engaged by a subject entirely new he only thought it a good subject, when it seemed worthy of an abler pen than his own, and might prove as useful to the hearer as profitable to himself. And, indeed, this essential piece of merit must be granted to liis own original plays, that they always tend to the improvement of the mind as well as the entertainment of the eye; and that vice and folly, however pleasingly habited, are constantly lashed, ridiculed, or reclaimed in them, and virtue as constantly rewarded. There is an argument, indved, which wighe be pleaded in favour of this author, were luis plays possessed of a much smaller share of merit than is to be found in them; which is, that he wrote, at least in the early part of his life, though necessity, for the support of his increavice family: his precarious income as an actor being then ivo scanly to supply it with even the necessaries of life: and wită great pleasantry he acquaints us, that his mise and his spouse were equally prolific; that the one was seldom molber of a child, but in the same year the other made liim the father of a play; and that they had had a dozen of each 2011 between them, of both which kinds some died in their infancy, and wear an equal number of each were alive when he quilted the theatre. No wonder then, when the Muse is only called upon ho l'amily du's, that she should nol always rejoice in the fruit of her labour. This excuse, we say, might be pleaded in Mr. Gibber's favour: but we must conisa ourselves of the opinion, that there is no occasion for the plea; and that his plays have merit enough to speak in their own cause, without the necessity of begging indulgence. His plots, whether original or borrowed, are lively and fall of business; yet not confused in the action, nor bungled in the catastrophe. His characters are well drawn, and his dialogue easy, gented), and natural. And if he has not the intrinsic wil of a Congreve or a Vanburgh, yel there is a luxuriance of fancy in his thoughts, which gives an almusl equal pleasure, and a purity in his sentiments and morals, the want of whicli, in the above named anthors, has so frequently and so jusily been censured. In a word, we think the English slage as much obliged to Mr. Cibber, for a fund of rational entertainment, as to any dramatic write this nation has produced, Shakspeare only excepled; and one unanswerable evidence has been borne to the satisfaction the public have received from his plays, end such a one as no author besides himself can boast, viz. that although the number of his dramatic pieces is very extensive, a considerable part are now, and seem likely to continue, on the list of acting and favourite plays.


Or, a Journey to London. Acled at Drury Lane 1728. This comedy was begun hy Sir John Vanburgh, bat let by him imperfect at his death; when Mr. Cibber took it in hand, and finished it. It mel with rery great acord? being acted twenty-eight nights without interruption; yet such is the power of prejudice and personal pique in biasco the judgment, that Mr. Cibber's enemies, ignorant of what share he had in the writing of the piece, beslowed the highest applause on the part which related to Lord Townly's propocations from his wife, which was mostly Cibberne! at the same time that they condemned and opposed the Journey to London part, which was almost entirely Vanborghe for no other apparent reason but because they imagined it to be Mr. Cibber's. He soon, however, convinced them their mistake, by publishing all the scenes which Sir John had left behind him, exacıly from his own Ms. under de single lile of The Journey to London.

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thinks it a greater merit still, in her chastity, SCENE I.-LORD TownLY's Apartment.

not to care for her husband, and, while she

herself is solacing in one continual round of Enter Lord Townly.

cards and good company, he, poor wretch, i Lord. T. Why did I marry ?-Was it not left at large, to take care of his own content evident, my plain, rational scheme of life was ment—'Tis time, indeed, some care were ta impracticable with a woman of so different a ken, and speedily there shall be-Yet, let mi way of thinking?--Is there one article of it not be rash-Perhaps this disappointment that she has not broke in upon ?-Yes—let me my heart may make me too impatient; do her justice—her reputation-That-I have some tempers, when reproached, grow mon no reason to believe, is in question-But then, untractable-Here she comes-Let me be calm how long ber profligate course of pleasures awhile. may make her able to keep it—is a shocking

Enter Lady Townty. consideration! and her presumption, while she keeps it, insupportable! for, on the pride of Going out so soon after dinner, madam? that single virtue, she seems to lay it down Lady T. Lord, my lord! what can I pos. as a fundamental point, that the free indul- sibly do at home? gence of every other vice this fertile towni Lord T. What does my sister, lady Grace affords, is the birthright prerogative' of a wo-do at home? man of quality. — Amazing! that a creature, Lady T. Why, that is to me amazing! Havi so warm in the pursuit of her pleasures, should you ever any pleasure at home? never cast one ihought towards her happiness Lord T. It might be in your power, madam, - Thus, while shie admits of no lover, she confess, to make it a little more comfortable to me

men bare!

Lady 7. Comfortable! And so, my good table -- throw a familiar levant upon some lord, you would really have a woman of my sharp, lurching man of quality, and if he derank and spirit stay at home to comfort her mands his money, turn it off with a loud husband !-Lord, what notions of life some laugh, and cry you'll owe it him, to vex him,

ha, ha! Lord T. Don't you think, madam, some Lord T. Prodigious!

[ Aside. ladies' notions are full as extravagant? Lady T. These now, my lord, are some

Ledy T. Yes,' my lord, when the tame doves few of the many modish amusements that live cooped within the pen of your precepts, distinguish the privilege of a wise from that I do think them prodigious indeed!

of a single woman. Lord T. And when they fly wild about this Lord T. Death, madam! what law has made lown, madam, pray what must the world think these liberties less scandalous in a wife than of them then?

in an unmarried woman? Lady 1. Oh, this world is not so ill bred, Lady T. Why, the strongest law in the as to quarrel with any woman for liking it. world, custom - custom, time out of mind,

Lord 1. Nor am I, madam, a husband so my lord. well bred, as to bear my wife's being so fond Lord T. Custom, madam, is the law of fools; of it; in short

, the lise you Jead, madam- but it shall never govern me. Lady 7. Is to me the pleasantest lise in the Lady T. Nay then, my lord, 'tis time for world.

me to observe the laws of prudence. Lord T. I should not dispute your taste,

Lord T. I wish I could see an instance of it. madam, if a woman had a right to please no- Lady T. You shall have one this moment, body but herself.

my lord; for I think when a man begins to Lady T. Why, whom would you have her lose his temper at home, if a woman has any please?

prudence, why she'll go abroad till he' comes Lord T. Sometimes her husband. io himself again.

[Going. Lady T. And don't you think a husband Lord T. ftold, madam; I am amazed you under the same obligation?

are not more uneasy at the life we lead. You Lord T. Certainly.

don't want sense, and yet seem void of all Lady T. Why ihen we are agreed, my hunianity; for, with a blush I say it, I think lod-For if I never go abroad till I am weary I have not wanted love. of being at home-(which you know is the Lady T. Oh, don't say that, my lord, if case) –1s it not equally reasonable, nol to come you suppose I have my senses. bome till one is weary of being abroad ? Lord T. What is it I have done to you?

Lord 1. If this be your rule of life, madam, What can you complain of? 'tis time to ask you one serious question. Lady T. Oh, nothing, in the least! "Tis

Lady T. Don't let it be long a coming then, true you have heard me say I have owed my for I am in baste.

lord Lurcher a hundred pounds these three Lord T. Madam, when I am serious, I ex-weeks; but what then? a husband is not liable pect a serious answer.

to his wife's debts of honour, you know; and Lady T. Before I know the question? : if a silly woman will be uneasy about money Lord T. Pshaw!-Have 1 power, madam, she can't be sued for, what's that to him? As to make you serious by entreaty ?

long as he loves her, to be sure, she can have Lady T. You have.

nothing to complain of. Lord T. And you promise to answer me Lord T. By heaven, if my whole fortune, uncerely ?

thrown into your lap, could make you delight Lady T. Sincerely.

in the cheerful duties of a wise, I should think Lord T. Now then, recollect your thoughts, myself a gainer by the purchase. aad tell me seriously why you married me. Lady T. That is, my lord, I might receive Lady T. You insist upon truth, you say? your whole estate, provided you were sure I Lord T. I think I have a right to it

. would not spend a shilling of it. Indy 1. Why then, my lord, to give you Lord T. No, madam ; were I master of your tence a proof of my obedience and sincer-heart, your pleasures would be mine; but, difit I think-I married to take off that re- ferent as they are, I'll feed eren your follies straint that lay upon my pleasures while I to deserve ii-Perhaps you may have some

other trifling debts of honour abroad, that Lord T. How, madam! is any woman un- keep you out of humour at home-at least it der les restraint

' after marriage than before it? shall not be my fault if I have not more of Lady 1. Oh, my lord, my lord! they are your company-There, there's a bill of five quite different creatures!' wives have infinite hundred-and now, madamliberties in life, that would be terrible in an Lady T. And now, my lord, down to the tamarried woman to take.

ground, I thank you.

Lord T. If it be no offence, madamLady T. Fifty, if you please – To begin, Lady T. Say what you please, my lord; I then-ia the morning—A married woman may am in that barmony of spirits, it is impossible bare men at her toilet-invite them to dinner to put me out of humour. appoint them a party in the stage-box at Lord T. How long, in reason then, do you be play-engross the conversation there-call think that sum ought to last you? them by their christian names — talk louder Lady T. Oh, my dear, dear lord, now you Gas the players: from thence, clatter again to have spoiled all again!'how is it possible i this end of the town— break, with the mor- should answer for an event that so utterly ning, into an assembly-crowd to the hazard-! depends upon fortune? But to show you that

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Lord T. Name one.

I am more inclined to get money than to flat simplicity of that reply was admirable.
throw it away, I have a strong prepossession Lady G. Pooh, you tease one, brother!
that with this five hundred I shall win five Lord T. Come, I beg pardon, cbild—this is .

not a point, I grant you, to trifle upon; thereLord T. Madam, if you were to win ten fore I hope you'll give me leave to be serious. thousand, it would be no satisfaction to me. Lady G. If you desire it, brother; though,

Lady T. Oh, the churl! ten thousand : what! upon my word, as to Mr. Manly's having any not so much as wish I might win ten thou- serious ihoughts of me-I know nothing of il

. sand !—Ten thousand! Oh, the charming sum! Lord T. Well-there's nothing wrong in what infinite pretty things might a woman of your making a doubt of it-But, in short

, I spirit do with ten thousand guineas! O'my lind by his conversation of late, he has been conscience, if she were a woman of true spirit looking round the world for a wife; and if -she-she might lose them all again. you were to look round the world for a bus.

Lord T. And I had rather it should be so, band, he is the first man I would give to you. madam, provided I could be sure that were Lady G. Then whenever he makes me any the last you would lose.

offer, brother, I will certainly tell you of it

. Lady T. Well

, my lord, to let you see I Lord T. Oh, that's the last thing be'll do! design to play all the good housewife I can, he'll never make you an offer till he's prelly I am now going to a party at quadrille, only sure it won't be refused. to trifle with a little of it, at poor two guineas Lady G. Now you make me curious. Pray a fish, with the duchess of Quiteright. [Exit. did he ever make any offer of that kind to you?

Lord T. Insensible creature! neither re- Lord T. Not directly - but that imports proaches nor indulgence, kindness nor sever- nothing;, he is a man too well acquainted with ity, can wake her to the least reflection! the female world to be brought into a bigh Continual licence has lulld her into such a opinion of any one woman, without some lethargy of care, that she speaks of her exces- well-examined proof of her merit; yet I have ses with the same easy confidence as if they reason to believe that your good sense, your were so many virtues. What a turn has her turn of mind, and your way of life, hare head taken! – But how to cure it-take my brought him to so favourable a one of you, friend's opinion-Manly will speak freely-my that a few days will reduce him to talk plainly sister with tenderness to both sides. They to me; which, as yet, notwithstanding our know my case-I'll talk with them. friendship, I have neither declined nor encou

raged him to do. Enter WILLIAMS.

Lady G. I am mighty glad we are so near Wil. Mr. Manly, my lord, has sent to know in our way of thinking; for, to tell you the if your lordship was at home.

truth, he is much upon the same terms with Lord T. They did not deny me? me: you know he has a satirical turn; but Wil. No, my lord.

never lashes any folly, without giving due enLord T. Very well; step up to my sister, comiums to its opposite virtue; and, upon and say I desire to speak with her.

such occasions, he is sometimes particular in Wil. Lady Grace is here, my lord. [Exit

. turning his compliments upon me, which !

don't receive with any reserve, lest he should Enter LADY GRACE.

imagine I take them to myself. Lord T. So, lady fair, what pretty weapon Lord T. You are right, child; when a man have you been killing your time wiih? of merit makes his addresses, good sense may

Lady G. A huge folío, that has almost killed give him an answer without scorn or coquetry. me-I think I have half read my eyes out. Lady G: Ilush! he's here

Lord T. Oh! you should not pore so much just after dinner, child.

Enter MANLY.
Lady G. That's true; but any body's thoughts Man. My lord, your most obedient.
are beiter than always one's own, you know. Lord T. Dear Manly, yours I was think-
Lord T. Who's there?

ing to send to you.
Man. Then I am glad I am here, my

lord Re-enter WILLIAMS.

|--Lady Grace, I kiss your hands-\Vhat, only Leave word at the door I am at home to you two ?-How many visits may a man make nobody but Mr. Manly. [Exit Williams. before he falls into such unfashionable comLady G. And why is he excepted, pray, pany! A brother and sister, soberly sitting at

home, when the whole town is a gadding; Lord T. I hope, madam, you bave no ob- question if there is so particular a tete-a-tete jection to his company?

again in the whole parish of St. James's. Lady G. Your particular orders, upon my Lady G. Fie, fie, Mr. Manly, how censebeing here, look indeed as if you thought I rious you are! bad not.

Man. I had not made the reflection, madan, Lord T. And your lady ship's inquiry into but that I saw you an exception to it- Where's the reason of those orders shows, at least, it my lady? was not a matter indifferent to you.

Lord T. That, I believe, is impossible to guess. Lady G. Lord, you make the oddest con- Man. Then I won't try, my lord. structions, brother!

Lord T. But 'tis probable I may, hear Lord T. Look you, my grave lady Grace her by that time I have been four or fire boui -- in one serious word-I wish you bad bim. in bed. Lady G. I can't help that.

Man. Now if that were my case-I belies Lord T. 1.! you can't help it, ha, ha! The 1-But I beg pardon, my lord.

my lord ?

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