lated, and Mr. Cumberland was set adrift with a compensation of scarcely a moiety in value of what he had been deprived of. He now retired, with his family, to Tunbridge Wells, where he has continued, we believe, ever since to reside, universally respected. That a man of such learning, of such versatility of literary talent, such unquestionable genius, and such sound morality, should, in the vale of years," feel the want of what he has lost by his exertions for the public good, must, to every feeling mind, be a subject of keen regret, yet the fact seems to be placed beyond doubt by the following annunciation of his intention, in 1809, to publish a 4to volume of his dramas: To the Public was my purpose to have reserved these MSS. for the eventuat use and advantage of a beloved daughter after my decease; bat the circumstances of my story, which are before the public, and to which I can appeal without a blush, make it needless for me to state why I am not able to fulfil that purpose: I therefore now, with full reliance on the candour and protection of my countrymen at large, solicit their subscription to these unpublished dramas; conscious as I am, that neither in this instance, nor in any other through the course of my long-continued labours, have I wilfully directed the humble talents, with which God has endowed me, otherwise than to his service, and the genuine interests (so far as I understood them) of benevolence and virtue, Richard Cumberland."

THE FASHIONABLE LOVER,

Comedy by Richard Cumberland. Acted at Drury Lane 1772. This piece followed The West-Indian too soon to increase the reputation of its author. It was coldly received the first night; but undergoing some judicious alterations improved in the public favour,

ACT I.

the weams of you all together, say 1, for a SCENE 1-4 Hall in LORD ABBERVILLE's pack of locusts; a cow in a clover-field has House, with a Staircase seen through an more moderation than the best among you; Arch. Several Domestics waiting in rich had my lord Abberville the wealth of GlasLiveries. Flourish of French Horns. gow, you'd swallow it all down before you gee'd1) over.

Enter COLIN,) hastily.

Colin. Hoor! 2) fellows, haud) your honds: *) pack up your damn'd clarinets, and gang your gait 5) for a pair of lubberly min

La Jeu. Ah, barbare! Here come my lord. [Exit.

Enter LORD ABBERVILLE.

Lord A. Colin, see that covers are laid for rels as you are. An) you could hondle four-and-twenty, and supper served at twelve the bagpipe instead, I would na' say you nay: in the great eating-parlour.

ah! 'tis an auncient instrument of great me- Colin. Ecod, my lord, had you ken'd 2) the lody, and has whastled 7) many a brau ) braw mess of cakes and sweeties) that was honded lad to his grave; but your holiday horns there up amongst 'em just now, you would na are fit only to play to a drunken city barge think there could be muckle) need of supper on a swan-hopping) party up the Thames." this night.

Enter LA JEUNESSE.

La Jeu. Fidon, monsieur Colin, for why

Lord A. What, fellow, would you have me starve my guests?

Colin. Troth, an you don't, they'll go nigh you have send away the horns? It is very to starve you.

much the ton in this country for the fine gen- Lord A. Let me hear no more of this, Cotlemens to have the horns: upon my vord, my lin Macleod; I took you for my servant, not lord this day give grand entertainment to very for my adviser.

to the tea-room.

[Exit.

grand company; tous les macaroni below Colin. Right, my lord, you did; but if by stairs, et toute la coterie above. Hark, who advising I can serve you, where's the breach vait dere? My lord ring his bell.-Voila, of duty in that? monsieur Colin, dere is all the company going Lord A. What a Highland savage it is!My father indeed made use of him to pay the Colin, [Looking out] Now the de'il burst servants' wages, and post the tradesmen's accounts; as I never do either, I wish somebody 1) Colm pourtrays the character of a Scotchman, in s else had him that does. station, most admirably, who is so addicted to praise hur own country, that, as he says himself "a true North Briton would give up his virtue before (he would give up) his country, at any time,"

Enter MORTIMER, repeating to himse.f. Mort. Is this a dinner, this a genial room. ? This is a temple and a hecatomb. Lord A. What, quoting, Mortimer, and sa9) It is eastomary, in the summer, for the Lord Mayor tire too?-I thought you need not go abroad

2) Scotch exclamation for, out, begone 3) Hold.
*) Hands. 5) Go away. 6) If. 7) Whistled. 8) Brave.

and Aldermen of London to sail in a barge up the

Thames towards Richmond, to catch the young swans,, for that.

and mark them, as the property of the city; it is fe- Mort. True; therefore, I'm returning home. fony to steal those that are thus marked. The word-Good night to you.

hop in this sense comes from the Norman word hap

per. to catch.

1) Gave. 2) Known.

3) Sweetmeats. 4) Mach.

Lord A. What, on the wing so soon! With teeth, Mr. Mortimer. What is the surlypoots so much company, can my philosopher want prabbling about? Cot give her1) coot luck; food to feast his spleen upon? will the man never leave off his flings, and

Mort. Food! I revolt against the name; no his fleers, and his fegaries; packpiting his petBramin could abominate your fleshly meal ters?-Coot, my lord, let me call him back, more than I do; why, Hirtius and Apicius and have a little tisputes and tisputations with would have blush'd for it: Mark Antony, who him, dy'e see. roasted eight whole boars for supper, never Lord A. Hang him, tedious rogue, let him go. massacred more at a meal than you have done. Lord A. A truce, good cynic: pr'ythee now get thee up stairs, and take my place; the ladies will be glad of you at cards.

Mort. Me at cards! Me at a quadrille-table! Pent in with fuzzing dowagers, gossiping old maids, and yellow admirals; 'sdeath, my lord Abberville, you must excuse me.

Lord A. Out on thee, unconformable being; thou art a traitor to society.

Dr. D. Tedious! ay, in coot truth is he, as tedious as a Lapland winter, and as melancholy too; his crotchets and his humours damp all mirth and merriment, as a wet blanket does a fire: he is the very night-mare of society. Lord A. Nay, he talks well sometimes. Dr. D. Ay, 'tis pig sound and little wit; like a loud pell to a pad dinner.

Lord A. Patience, good doctor, patience! Another time you shall have your revenge: at present you must lay down your wrath, and take up your attention.

Mort. Do you call that society? Lord A. Yes; but not my society; none such as you describe will be found here; my Dr. D. I've done, my lord, I've done: laugh circle, Mr. Mortimer, is form'd by people of at my putterflies indeed! If he was a pig and the first fashion and spirit in this country. as pold as king Gryffyn, doctor Druid would Mort. Fashion and spirit! Yes, their coun- make free to whisper an oord 2) or two in try's like to suffer by their fashion more than his ear. 'twill ever profit by their spirit.

Lord A. Come, come, your temper is too sour. Mort. And your's too sweet: a mawkish lump of manna; sugar in the mouth, but physic to the bowels.

Lord A. Mr. Mortimer, you was my father's executor; I did not know your office extended any further.

Mort. No; when I gave a clear estate into your hands, I clear'd myself of an unwelcome office: I was, indeed, your father's executor; the gentlemen of fashion and spirit will be your lordship's.

Lord A. Peace, choleric king of the mountains, peace.

Dr. D. I've done, my lord; I say, I've done. Lord A. If you have done, let me begin You must know then, I expect my city madam from Fishstreet-hill.

Dr. D. Ay, ay, the rich pig-pellied fellow's daughter, young madam Pridgemore, my lady Apperville, that is to be, pless her, and save her, and make her a coot wife, say I.

Lord A. Pr'ythee, good doctor, don't put a man in mind of his misfortunes: I tell you, she is coming here by appointment, with old Lord A. Pooh! You've been black-ball'd 1) Bridgemore and her mother; 'tis an execrable at some paltry port-drinking club; and set up for a man of wit and ridicule.

group; and, as I mean to make all things as easy to me as I can, I'm going out to avoid being troubled with their impertinence.

Dr. D. Going out, my lord, with your house full of company?

Mort. Not I, believe me: your companions are too dull to laugh at, and too vicious to expose.-There stands a sample of your choice, Lord A. Who, doctor Druid? Where's the Lord A. Oh, that's no objection; none in harm in him?' the least; fashion reconciles all those scruples Mort. Where is the merit?-What one to consult your own ease in all things is the quality does that old piece of pedantry pos- very first article in the recipe for good breedsess to fit him for the liberal office of travel-ing: when every man looks after himself, no ling-preceptor to a man of rank? You know, one can complain of neglect; but, as these my lord, I recommended you a friend as fit maxims may not be orthodox on the eastern to form your manners as your morals; but he side of Temple-bar, you must stand gentlewas a restraint; and, in his stead, you took man-usher in this spot; put your best face that Welshman, that buffoon, that antiquarian, upon the matter, and marshal my citizens in forsooth, who looks as if you had rak'd him the assembly-room, with as much ceremon out of the cinders of Mount Vesuvius. as if they came up with an addresss from th Lord A. And so I did: but pr'ythee, Mor-whole company of cordwainers. 3) timer, don't run away; I long to have

meet.

you

some teri

Dr. D. Out on it, you've oomans in the wind; for when the tice r rattling above, there's nothing but teath, or th tevil, could keep you below.

Mort. You must excuse me. Lord A. Nay, I must have you better friends. Come hither, doctor; hark'eLord A. You've guest it; such a divine, d Mort. Another time: at present, I am in no licious, little devil, lurks in my heart; Gle humour to stay the discussion of a cockle-dower himself could not exorcise her In shell, or the dissection of a butterfly's wing. possess'd; and from the hour I saw ber y [Exit. surprise, I have been plotting methods ba to meet her; a lucky opening offers; the mus

Enter DOCTOR DRUID.

Dr. D. Putterflies!2) Putterflies in your 1) Alluding to the electing or refusing a member in any society by means of white and black balls.

a) The welsh manner of speaking English will be easily understood, if we bear in mind that they always change]

the hard and soft letters in their pronunci words; thus they say Putterflies, for Butterflies, 1) The word her is used by the Welsh for all the p nouns, in all the persons, and all the cases. a) W 5) The company of Shoemakers (Curdubanarius), the most important in the city.

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.

stand my friends!

come; I must escape-Now, love and fortune Dr. D. Into a pretty many parts of it. [Exit. Bridge. Well, and what say you, sir? you're Dr. D. 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.

Bridge. Doctor, I kiss your hands; I kiss your hands, good doctor.-How these nobles live! Zooks, what a swinging chamber!

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

your brain.

to a forest.

Bridge. Well, but the people, sir; what say you to the people?

Dr. D. Nothing: I never meddle with the human species; man, living man, is no object of my curiosity; nor ooman neither; at least, Mr. Pridgemore, till she shall be made a mummies of.

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 Riphian Mountains, and pierced into the 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: there 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, ser Druid, 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!

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. Mr. B. How! Not at home?

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 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?

Dr. D. Why, 'twas some plaguy business Mrs. B. We've made our courtesies and took him out; but we'll dispatch it out of come away. hand, 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.

Luc. And so he is; a man of the first fa-I bion; you cannot have a fresher sample: the worst gallant in nature is your macaroni;

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

back.

Luc. Why not? if my lord treats me already with the freedom of a husband, shouldn't begin to practice the indifference of a wife? [Exeunt.

Dr. D. Well, but the supper, Mr. Pridgewith the airs of a coquette you meet the more; you a citizen, and leave the supper? Zanners of a clown: fear keeps him in some Bridge. Your fifty mortal poisons have giwe 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. the 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.

Enter MISS AUBREY and TYRREL, and a
Maid-servant with Lights.

:

my lord, I must entreat you to let the servants show you to some fitter apartment. I am here in a very particular situation, and have the strongest reasons for what I request.

Lord A. I guess your reasons, but cannot admit them. I love you, madam; let that declaration be my excuse.

Aug. How I am watch'd in this house you well know, Mr. Tyrrel; therefore you must not stay what you have done and suffer'd 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.

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

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

Tyr. I glory in proctecting you: when he, or any other rake, repeats the like offence, I shall repeat the like correction. I am now going to my uncle Mortimer, who does not Aug. Lock'd! is it lock'd?-for shame, for know that I am in town. Life is not life shame! thus am I sacrific'd to your ungenewithout thee; never will I quit his feet, till I rous designs-she must come in. have obtained his voice for our alliance. Lord A. Stay, stay; she must not find me Aug. Alas! What hope of that from Mr. here; there's one retreat; your chamber; lock Mortimer, whose rugged nature knows no me in there: I may still escape. 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. Serv. 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.

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 lockng 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.

sense.

Aug. Yes, Mr. Tyrrel has been here. Luc. Humph! you're in mighty spirits. Lord A. Go, get you gone; never talk of Aug. No, madam; my poor spirits suit my treason, my thoughts are full of love. [The poor condition: you, I hope, are rich in every 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,

starts.

Aug. When were they otherwise? Luc. I don't know what to make of herAug. Who's there; who's at the door? she seems confus'd-her eyes wander stranAh!gely: watching the bed-room door-what is

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

Aug. Safe, my lord! Yes, I'm safe; but you are mistaken; miss Bridgemore's not at 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. Going! Nay, no where-she's alarmed-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 to your room?

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

Luc. Yes, have you, madam; and if m 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.

ACT II.

Aug. You cannot sure be serious-think SCENE I.-A Library in MORTIMER's House,

I've the sanction of a guest.

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

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 and seek no further. each other, while a vast army of vices over

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, is in the newest and the boldest style. Lord A. Upon my life, miss Bridgemore, my visit has been entirely innocent.

and the return of an empty purse. There, sir, 've done your errand; and wish hereafter you could find another agent for your

charities.

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 outbalf 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;

of the world.

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. house will not be very welcome.

[Exit.

Lord A. [To her, as she goes ou] Then, madam, she shall come to mine; my house,

Enter Servant.

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 Mort. Let him come in. 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 ali 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.

Lord A. A very unpromising campaign truly; Mort. Yes, honour: you young men are 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.