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Mer. Pr'ythee read this letter, and tell me what you think of it.

Fair. My lord, I am very well content; pray do not give yourself the trouble of say

Theo. Heavens, 'tis a letter from lord Aim-ing any more. worth! We are betrayed.

Ralph. No, my lord, you need not say

any more.

Fair. Hold your tongue, sirrah. Lord A. I am sorry, Patty, you have had this mortification.

Mer. By what means I know not. Theo. I am so frighted and flurried, that I have scarce strength enough to read it. [Reads. Sir, It is with the greatest concern I find that I have been unhappily the occa- Pat. I am sorry, my lord, you have been sion of giving some uneasiness to you and troubled about it. miss Sycamore: be assur'd, had I been ap- Fair. Well, come, children, we will not prised of your prior pretensions, and the take up his honour's time any longer; let us young lady's disposition in your favour, I be going towards home-Heaven prosper your should have been the last person to inter- lordship; the prayers of me and my family rupt your felicity. I beg, sir, you will do shall always attend you. me the favour to come up to my house, where I have already so far settled matters, as to be able to assure you, that every to command us? thing will go entirely to your satisfaction. Mer. Well, what do you think of it?-a Shall we go to the castle?"

Lord A. Miller, come back-Patty, stay-
Fair. Has your lordship any thing further

Lord A. Why yes, master Fairfield, I have word or two still to say to you-In short, though you are satisfied in this affair, I am Theo. By all means: and in this very trim; not; and you seem to forget the promise I to show what we are capable of doing, if my made you, that, since I had been the means father and mother had not come to reason. of losing your daughter one husband, I would [Exeunt Mervin and Theodosia. find her another. Giles. So, there goes a couple! Icod, I be- Fair. Your honour is to do as you please. lieve old Nick has got among the people in Lord A. What say you, Pally, will you these parts. This is as queer a thing as ever accept of a husband of my choosing? I heard of.-Master Fairfield and miss Patty, Pat. My lord, I have no determination; it seems, are gone to the castle too; where, you are the best judge how I ought to act; by what I larus from Ralph in the mill, my whatever you command, I shall obey. lord has promised to get her a husband among Lord A. Then, Patty, there is but one perthe servants. Now set in case the wind sets son I can offer you-and I wish, for your in that corner, I have been thinking with my-sake, he was more deserving-Take meself who the plague it can be: there are no Pat. Sir!

unmarried men in the family, that I do know Lord A. From this moment our interests of, excepting little Bob, the postillion, and are one, as our hearts; and no earthly power master Jonathan, the butler, and he's a mat- shall ever divide us.

ter of sixty or seventy years old. I'll be shot Fair. O the gracious! Patty-my lordif it beant little Bob.-Icod, I'll take the way Did I hear right?--You, sir, you marry a to the castle as well as the rest; for I'd fain child of nine!

see how the nail do drive. It is well I had Lord A. Yes, my honest old man, in me wit enough to discern things, and a friend to you behold the husband designed for your

advise with, or else she would have fallen to daughter; and I am happy, that by standing my lot. But I have got a surfeit of going a in the place of fortune, who has alone beca courting; and burn me if I won't live a ba- wanting to her, I shall he able to set her chelor; for when all comes to all, I see no-merit in a light where its lustre will be renthing but ill blood and quarrels among folk dered conspicuous. that are maaried.

AIR.

Then bey for a frolicsome life!
I'll ramble where pleasures are rife;
Strike up with the free-hearted lasses,
And never think more of a wife.

Plague on it, men are but asses,

To run after noise and strife,

Had we been together buckl'd;

'Twould have prov'd a fine affair: Dogs would have bark'd at the cuckold; And boys, pointing, cry'd-Look there!

Fair. But good, noble sir, pray consider, don't go to put upon1) a silly old man: my daughter is unworthy-Patty, child, why don't you speak?

Pat. What can I say, father? what answer to such unlook'd-for, such unmerited, such unbounded generosity?

Ralph. Down on your knees, and fall a crying.

[Ralph is checked by Fairfield, and they go up the Stage.

Pat. Yes, sir, as my father says, consider [Exit-your noble friends, your relations-It must not, cannot be

SCENE IV. A grand Apartment in LORD Lord A. It must and shall-Friends! relaAIMWORTH'S House, opening to a Fiew tions! from henceforth I have none, that will

of the Garden.

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not acknowledge you; and I am sure, when they will rather admire the justice of my choice, they become acquainted with your perfections, than wonder at its singularity.

DUETT.-LORD AIMWORTH and PATTY. Lord A. My life, my joy, my blessing,

1) To take advantage, to decrive,

Pat.

Lord A.

Both.

In thee each grace possessing,
All must my choice approve.
To you my all is owing;
O! take a heart o'erflowing
With gratitude and love.
Thus infolding,
Thus beholding,

One to my soul so dear;
Can there be pleasure greater?
Can there be bliss completer?
'Tis too much to bear.

Enter SIR HARRY, LADY SYCAMORE, THEO-
DOSIA, and MERVIN.

Enter GILES.

Giles. Ods bobs, where am I running-1 beg pardon for my audacity.

Ralph. Hip, farmer; come back, mon, come back-Sure my lord's going to marry sister himself, feyther's to have a fine house, and I'm to be a captain.

Lord A. Ho, master Giles, pray walk in; here is a lady who, I dare say, will be glad to see you, and give orders that you shall always be made welcome,

Ralph. Yes, farmer, you'll always be welcome in the kitchen.

Lord A. What, have you nothing to say Sir H. Well, we have followed your lord- to your old acquaintance-Come, pray let the ship's counsel, and made the best of a bad farmer salute you-Nay, a kiss-I insist upmarket-So, my lord, please to know our son-in-law that is to be.

Lord A. You do me a great deal of honour -I wish you joy,, sir, with all my heart. And now, sir Harry, give me leave to introduce to you a new relation of mine-This, sir, is shortly to be my wife.

Sir H. My lord!

Lady S. Your lordship's wife!
Lord A. Yes, madam.

Lady S. And why so, my lord?

Lord A. Why, faith, ma'am, because I can't live happy without her-And I think she has too many amiable, too many estimable qualities to meet with a worse fate. Sir H. Well, but you are a peer of the realm; you will have all the fleerers

on it.

Sir H. Ha, ha, ha-hem!

Lady S. Sir Harry, I am ready to sink at the monstrousness of your behaviour.

Lord A. Fie, master Giles, don't look so sheepish; you and I were rivals, but not less friends at present. You have acted in this affair like an honest Englishman, wo scorned even the shadow of dishonour, and thou shalt sit rent-free for a twelvemonth.

Sir H. Come, shan't we all salute-With your leave, my lord, I'll— Lady S. Sir Harry!

Lord A.

Lord A. I know very well the ridicule that may be thrown on a lord's marrying a miller's daughter; and I own with blushes it has for some time had too great weight with me: but we should marry to please ourselves, not other people; and, on mature consideration, Theo. I can see no reproach justly merited by raising a deserving woman to a station she is capable of adorning, let her birth be what it will.

Sir H. Why is very true, my lord. I once knew a gentleman that married his cook-maid: he was a relation of my own-You remember fat Margery, my lady. She was a very good Sir H. sort of woman, indeed she was, and made the best suet dumplings I ever tasted.

Lady S. Will you never learn, sir Harry, guard your expressions?-Well, but give ne leave, my lord, to say a word to you.There are other ill consequences attending such an alliance.

Lord A. One of them I suppose is, that I, = peer, should be obliged to call this good ld miller father-in-law. But where's the shame n that? He is as good as any lord in being man; and if we dare suppose a lord that s not an honest man, he is, in my opinion, e more respectable character. Come, master airfield, give me your hand; from henceorth you have done with working: we will ull down your mill, and build you a house the place of it; and the money I intended or the portion of your daughter, shall now e laid out in purchasing a commission for

our son.

Ralph. What, my lord, will you make me
captain?

Lord A. Ay, a colonel, if you deserve it.
Ralph. Then I'll keep Fan.

Put.

FINALE.

Yield who will to forms a martyr,
While unaw'd by idle shame,
Pride for happiness I barter,

Heedless of the millions' blame.
Thus with love my arms I quarter;
Women grac'd in nature's frame,
Ev'ry privilege, by charter,

Have a right from man to claim.
Eas'd of doubts and fears presaging,
What new joys within me rise;
While mamma, her frowns assuaging,
Dares no longer tyrannise.

So long storms and tempests raging,
When the blust'ring fury dies,
Ah, how lovely, how engaging,
Prospects fair, and cloudless skies!
Dad, but this is wondrous pretty,
Singing each a roundelay;
And I'll mingle in the ditty,

Though I scarce know what to say.
There's a daughter brisk and witty;
Here's a wife can wisely sway:
Trust me, masters, 'twere a pity,
Not to let them have their way.
My example is a rare one;
But the cause may be divin'd:
Women want not merit-dare one
Hope discerning men to find.

O! may each accomplish'd fair one,
Bright in person, sage in mind,
Viewing my good fortune, share one
Full as splendid, and as kind.

Ralph. Captain Ralph my lord will dub me,
Soon I'll mount a huge cockade;
Mounseer shall powder, queue, and

club me,

'Gad, I'll be a roaring blade,
If Fan shall offer once to snub me,
When in scarlet all array'd;
Or my feather dare to drub me,
Frown your worst-but who's afraid?
Giles. Laugh'd at, slighted, circumvented,

And expos'd for folks to see't,
Tis as tho'f a man repented
For his follies in a sheet.

But my wrongs go unresented,

Since the fates have thought them meet;
This good company contented,
All my wishes are complete.

[Exeunt

GEORGE COLMAN JUNIOR

Is the son of the author of The Clandestine Marriage. With the precise time of his birth we are unacquainted; but we suppose it to have been about the year 1767. He received his early education at Mr. Fountain's academy in Marybone, at that time in high estimation. He was next sent to Westminster School, and afterwards entered at Christchur College, Oxford; but, for what reason we know not, he finished his education at King's College, Old Aberdeen; whence he returned to London, and was entered of the Temple; with the design, it is said, to qualify him for the bar. But if so, he early in life resigned Coke and Littleton in favour of the Muses. The consciousness of literary talents, and an easy access to the public through the medium of his father's theatre, naturally directed his attention to the drama; and his parent seemed to fester his genius; as he, in the prologue to the first play of his son's, announced him a “a chip of the old block." When his father was seized with that malady which endered him incapable of superintending the theatre, Mr. Colman evinced a most commendable Elial affection, by the great attention that she paid to him and to the interests of his theatre. On the death of his father, His Majesty was pleased to transfer the palent to him; and he has discharged the duties of manager with zeal and alacrity towards the public, and liberality towards anchors and actors. In private life Mr. Colman is social, convivial, and intelligent; and in the playful contentions of wit and humour, and particularly that agreeable coruscation called repartee, he may perhaps be equalled, but we think, bas rarely been excelled. In his heroic pieces, we observe a poetical vigour, a form of language, and a cast of sentiment, that forcibly remind us of the very best of our ancient dramatic writers. In the spring of the year 1797, Mr. Colman published My Nightgown and Slippers, a thin quarto, consisting of some amusing poetical trifles. In prologue and epilogue, we cannot better compare Mr. Colman with any one than with the late Mr. Garrick. His compositions in this way are very abundant, and excellent in their kind.

INKLE AND YARICO,

Opera by George Colman jun. 1787. The great success of this Opera in every theatre in the Kingdom, since its first representation at the Haymarket, is justified by its real merit. The dialogue is not a collection of trite common places, to connect the music; but is replete with taste, judgment, and manly feeling; the allusions to slavery (now so nobly abolished) correspond with every British, every liberal, mind, The mal-à-propos offer of Inkle to sell his Yarico to Sir Christopher, is an admirable incident; and indeed all the characters are as forcibly drawn, that the most trifing part is effective. The pathetic story of Inkle and Yarico first attracted sympathy, from the narrative of Mr. Addison, in the Spectator to that affecting story, Mr. Colman was indebted only for the cold, calculating lokle; and the gentle, affectionate Yarico;-the rest of the characters and the developement of the whole are offspring of his abundant invratios,

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SCENE. First, on the Main of America: afterwards, in Barbadoes.

ACT I.

SCENE I.-An American forest. Med. [Without] HILLI ho! ho! Trudge. [Without] Hip! holla!

to bring all the natives about us; and wesball be stripped and plundered in a minute.

Trudge, Aye; stripping is the first thing that would happen to us; for they seem to be ho!-Hip!-woefully off for a wardrobe. I myself saw three, at a distance, with less clothes than I Enter MEDIUM and TRUDge. have when I get out of bed: all dancing about Med. Pshaw! it's only wasting time and in black buff; just like Adam in mourning. breath. Bawling won't persuade him to budge Med. This is to have to do with a schemer! a bit faster. Things are all altered now; and, a fellow who risques his life, for a chance of whatever weight it may have in some places, advancing his interest.-Always advantage in bawling, it seems, don't 't go for argument, here. view! trying, here, to make discoveries that Plague on't! we are now in the wilds of may promote his profit in England. Another America.

Trudge. Hip, hillio-ho-hi!

Med. Hold your tongue, you blockhead, or Trudge, Lord! sir, if my master makes no more haste, we shall all be put to sword by the knives of the natives. I'm told they take off heads like hats, and hang 'em on pegs in their parlours. Mercy on us! my head aches with the very thoughts of it. Holo! Mr. Inkle! master; holo!

Botany Bay scheme, mayhap. Nothing else could induce him to quit our foraging party, from the ship; when he knows every inhatitant here is not only as black as a peppercorn, but as hot into the bargain—and I, like a fool, to follow him! and then to let him loiter behind. Why, nephew! why, Inkle!

[Calling.

Trudge. Why, Inkle-Well! only to see the difference of men! he'd have thought it Med. Head aches! zounds, so does mine very hard, now, if I had let him call so often with your confounded bawling. It's enough after me. Ah! I wish he was calling after

me now, in the old jog-trot way, again. expensive plan for a trader, truly. What, What a fool was I, to leave London for would you have a man of business come foreign parts!-That ever I should leave Thread-abroad, scamper extravagantly here and there needle-street, to thread an American forest, and every where, then return home, and have where a man's as soon lost as a needle in a nothing to tell, but that he has been here and bottle of hay! there and every where? 'sdeath, sir, would Med. Patience, Trudge! patience! If we you have me travel like a lord? Travelling, once recover the shipuncle, was always intended for improvement; Trudge. Lord, sir, I shall never recover and improvement is an advantage; and adwhat I have lost in coming abroad. When vantage is profit, and profit is gain. Which, my master and I were in London, I had such in the travelling translation of a trader, means, a mortal snug birth of it! why, I was factotum. that you should gain every advantage of imMed. Factotum to a young merchant is no proving your profit. I have been comparing such sinecure, neither. the land, here, with that of our own country. Trudge. But then the honour of it. Think Med. And you find it like a good deal of of that, sir; to be clerk as well as own man. the land of our own country-cursedly enOnly consider. You find very few city clerks cumbered with black legs 1), I take it. made out of a man 1), now-a-days. To be Inkle. And calculating how much it might king of the counting-house, as well as lord be made to produce by the acre. of the bed-chamber. Ah! if I had him but now in the little dressing room behind the office; tying his hair, with a bit of red tape, as usual.

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Inkle. So, Mr. Medium.

Med. You were?

Inkle. Yes; I was proceeding algebraically upon the subject.

Med. Indeed!

Inkle. And just about extracting the square

root.

Med. Hum!

Inkle. I was thinking too, if so many natives could be caught, how much they might fetch at the West Indian markets.

Med. Now let me ask you a question, or two, young cannibal catcher, if you please. Inkle. Well.

Med. Aren't we bound for Barbadoes; partly to trade, but chiefly to carry home the daughter of the governor, Sir Christopher Curry, who has till now been under your father's care, in Threadneedle-street, for polite English education?

Inkle. Granted.

Med. Zounds, one would think, by your confounded composure, that you were walking in St. James's Park, instead of an American Med. And isn't it determined, between the Forest; and that all the beasts were nothing old folks, that you are to marry Narcissa as but good company. The hollow trees, here, soon as we get there? centry boxes, and the lions in 'em soldiers; the jackalls, courtiers; the crocodiles, fine women; and the baboons, beaus. What the plague made you loiter so long?

Inkle. Reflection.

Inkle. A fixed thing.

Med. Then what the devil do you do here, hunting old hairy negroes, when you ought to be ogling a fine girl in the ship? Algebra, too! you'll have other things to think of when Med. So I should think; reflection generally you are married, I promise you. A plodding comes lagging behind. What, scheming, fellow's head, in the hands of a young wife, suppose; never quiet. At it again, eh: what like a boy's slate after school, soon gets all a happy trader is your father, to have so pru-its arithmetic wiped off: and then it appears dent a son for a partner! why, you are the in its true simple state; dark, empty, and carefullest Co. in the whole city. Never losing bound in wood, Master Inkle.

sight of the main chance; and that's the rea- Inkle. Not in a match of this kind. Why, son, perhaps, you lost sight of us, here, on it's a table of interest from beginning to end, the main of America. old Medium.

Inkle. Right, Mr. Medium, Arithmetic, I Med, Well, well, this is no time to talk. own, has been the means of our parting at Who knows but, instead of sailing to a wedpresent. ding, we may get cut up, here, for a wedding Trudge. Ha! a sum in division, I reckon. dinner: tossed up for a dingy duke perhaps, [Aside. or stewed down for a black baronet, or eat Med. And pray, if I may be so bold, what raw by an inky commoner? mighty scheme has just tempted you to em- Inkle. Why, sure, you aren't afraid? ploy your head, when you ought to make Med. Who, I afraid! ha! ha! ha! no, not use of your heels? I! what the deuce should I be afraid of? thank Inkle. My heels! here's pretty doctrine! do heaven, I have a clear conscience, and need you think I travel merely for motion? a fine not be afraid of any thing. A scoundrel might 1) Double entendre. The second meaning, generally given not be quite so easy on such an occasion; by the actor with an arch look at the upper-boxes, but it's the part of an honest man not to bethe place of resort of the London clerks at the The- have like a scoundrel: I never behaved like a atres, is, that there are very few clerks really men now-a-days, they being rather dandyish and effeminate in their dress.

1) Black legs, (slang) for Gamesters; and the blacks, or negroes, have, of course, black legs.

scoundrel-for which reason I am an honest | And the Eagle, I warrant you, looks like a man, you know. But come-I hate to boast of my good qualities.

goose.

But we merchant lads, tho' the foe we can't maul,

Inkle. Slow and sure, my good, virtuous,
Mr. Medium! our companions can be but half Nor are paid,

a mile before us: and, if we do but double

their steps, we shall overtake 'em at one mile's Why we pay end, by all the powers of arithmetic.

Med. Ob, curse your arithmetic! how are we to find our way?

Inkle. That, uncle, must be left to the doctrine of chances.

like fine king-ships, to fight at

a call,

ourselves well, without fighting

at all.

1st Sail. Avast! look a-bead there. Here they come, chased by a fleet of black devils, [Exeunt. Midsh. And the devil a fire have I to give 'em. We han't a grain of powder left. What must we do, lad?

SCENE II.-Another part of the Forest. A ship at anchor in the bay, at a small distance.

Enter SAILORS and MATE, as returning from

foraging.

2nd Sail. Do? sheer off, to be sure.

All. Come, bear a hand, Master Marlin

spike!

Midsh. [Reluctantly] Well, if I must, I Mate. Come, come, bear a hand 1), my must [Going to the other side and halloing lads. Tho'f the bay is just under our bow-to Inkle, etc.] Yoho, lubbers! crowd all the sprits, it will take a damned deal of tripping sail you can, d'ye mind me! to come at it-there's hardly any steering clear

[Exit. of the rocks here. But do we muster all Enter MEDIUM, running, as pursued by hands? all right, think ye?

the Blacks. 1st Sail. All to a man - besides yourself, Med. Nephew! Trudge! run— scamper! and a monkey-the three land lubbers 2), that scour-fly! zounds, what harm did I ever do, edged away in the morning, goes for nothing, to be hunted to death by a pack of bloodyou know they're all dead may-hap, by this. bounds? why, nephew! Oh, confound your Mate. Dead! you be-why, they're friends long sums in arithmetic! I'll take care of myof the captain; and, if not brought safe aboard self; and if we must have any arithmetic, dot to-night, you may all chance to have a salt and carry one for my money. [Runs off. eel for your supper-that's all. Moreover, the young plodding spark, he with the grave, foul-weather face, there, is to man the tight

Enter INKLE and TRUDGE, hastily. Trudge. Oh! that ever I was born, to leave

fore us?

Trudge. I'll run and see, sir, directly.

little frigate, Miss Narcissa, what d'ye call her, pen, ink, and powder, for this! that is bound with us for Barbadoes. Rot'em Inkle. Trudge, how far are the sailors befor not keeping under way, I say! but come, let's see if a song will bring 'em to. Let's have a full chorus to the good merchant ship, the Achilles, that's wrote by our Captain. The Achilles, though christen'd, good ship, 'tis surmis'd, From that old Was he, like

man of war, great Achilles, so
priz'd,

our vessel, pray, fairly baptiz'd?
Ti tol lol, etc.

Poets sung that Achilles-if, now, they've an

itch

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Inkle. Blockhead, come here. The savages are close upon us; we shall scarce be able to trees with me; they'll pass us, and we may recover our party. Get behind this tuft of then recover our ship with safety.

Trudge. [Going behind] Oh! Threadneedlestreet, Thread!

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Trudge. Sir.
[In a whisper.
Inkie. Are they all gone by?
Trudge. Won't you look and see?

Inkle. [Looking round] So, all's safe at last. [Coming forward] Nothing like policy in these cases; but you'd have run on, like a booby! A tree, I fancy, you'll find, in future, the best resource in a hot pursuit.

Trudge. Oh, charming! It's a retreat for a king), sir. Mr. Medium, however, has not got up in it; your uncle, sir, has run on like this time, I take it; who are now most likely a booby; and has got up with our party by at the shore. But what are we to do nest, sir? Inkle. Reconnoitre a little, and then proceed. Trudge. Then pray, sir, proceed to reconnoitre; for, the sooner the better.

Inkle. Then look out, d'ye hear, and tell me if you discover any danger.

Trudge. Y-ye-s-yes; but-[Trembling. 1) Charles 2d. hid himself in a tree.

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