Charles. Phoo! pr'ythee, uncle, don't trifle with me

now.

Maj. Well, seriously then, my house is at your

service.

Charles. I thank you; but I must be gone.

Maj. Ay, ay, bring her to my house, and we'll settle the whole affair for you. You shall clap her into a post chaise, take the chaplain of our regiment along with you, wheel her down to Scotland, and when you come back, send to settle her fortune with her father; that's the modern art of making love, Charles!

[Exeunt.

ACT II.

Scene I.-A Room in the Bull and Gate Inn.

Enter SIR HARRY BEAGLE and Toм.

Sir H. Ten guineas a mare, and a crown the man? hey, Tom!

Tom. Yes, your honour.

Sir H. And are you sure, Tom, that there is no flaw in his blood?

Tom. He's a good thing, sir, and as little beholden to the ground, as any horse that ever went over the turf upon four legs. Why, here's his whole pedigree, your

honour!

Sir H. Is it attested?

Tom. Very well attested; it is signed by Jack Spur and my Lord Stårtal. [Giving the pedigree.

Sir H. Let me see.-[Reading.] Tom-come-tickle-me was out of the famous Tantivy mare, by Sir Aaron Driver's chesnut horse, White Stockings. White Stockings, his dam, was got by Lord Hedge's South Barb, full sister

to the Proserpine Filly, and his sire Tom Jones; his grandam was the Irish Duchess, and his grandsire 'Squire Sportley's Trajan; his great, and great great grundum, were Newmarket Peggy and Black Moll, and his great grandsire, and great great grandsire, were Sir Ralph Whip's Regulus, and the famous Prince Anumaboo. his

JOHNSPUR,

mark.

STARTAL.

Tom. All fine horses, and won every thing! a foal your honour's Bald-faced Venus, by this horse, would beat the world.

out of

Sir H. Well then, we'll think on't.- -But, pox on't, Tom, I have certainly knocked up my little roan gelding, in this damn'd wild-goose chase of threescore miles an end.

Tom. He's deadly blown, to be sure, your honour; and I am afraid we are upon a wrong scent after all. Madam Harriet certainly took across the country, instead of coming on to London.

Sir H. No, no, we traced her all the way up.-But d'ye hear, Tom, look out among the stables and repositories here in town, for a smart road nag, and a strong horse to carry a portmanteau.

Tom. Sir Roger Turf's horses are to be sold-I'll see if there's ever a tight thing there—but I suppose, sir, you would have one somewhat stronger than Snip

-I don't think he's quite enough of a horse for your honour.

Sir H. Not enough of a horse! Suip's a powerful gelding; master of two stone more than my weight. If Snip stands sound, I would not take a hundred gui neas for him. Poor Snip! go into the stable, Tom, see they give him a warm mash, and look at his heels and his eyes. But where's Mr. Russet all this while?

Tom. I left the 'squire at breakfast on a cold pigeonpie, and inquiring after Madam Harriet, in the kitchen.

I'll let him know your honour would be glad to see him here.

Sir H. Ay, do: but harkye, Tom, be sure you take care of Snip.

Tom. I'll warrant your honour.

Sir H. I'll be down in the stables myself by and by. [Exit Toм.] Let me see——————— -out of the famous Tantwivy by White Stockings; White Stockings his dam, full sister to the Proserpine Filly, and his sirepox on't, how unlucky it is, that this damned accident should happen in the Newmarket week! -ten to one I lose my match with Lord Chokejade, by not riding myself, and I shall have no opportunity to hedge my bets neither what a damned piece of work have I made on't-I have knocked up poor Snip, shall lose my match, and as to Harriet, why, the odds are, that I lose my match there too—a skittish young tit! If I once get her tight in hand, I'll make her wince for it. Her estate joined to my own, I would have the finest stud, and the noblest kennel in the whole country. But here comes her father, puffing and blowing, like a broken-winded horse up hill.

Enter RUSSET.

Rus. Well, Sir Harry, have you heard any thing of her?

Sir H. Yes, I have been asking Tom about her, and he says, you may have her for five hundred guineas. Rus. Five hundred guineas! how d'ye mean? where is she? which way did she take?

Sir H. Why, first she went to Epsom, then to Lincoln, then to Nottingham, and now she is at York.

Rus. Impossible! she could not go over half the ground in the time. What the devil are you talking of? Sir H. Of the mare you was just now saying you wanted to buy.

Rus. The devil take the mare!—who would think

of her, when I am mad about an affair of so much more consequence?

Sir H. You seemed mad about her a little while ago. She's a fine mare, and a thing of shape and blood. Rus. Damo her blood!--Harriet! my dear, provoking Harriet! Where can she be? Have you got any intelligence of her?

Sir H. No, 'faith, not I: we seem to be quite thrown out here-but, however, I have ordered Tom to try if he can hear any thing of her among the ostlers.

Rus. Why don't you inquire after her yourself? why don't you run up and down the whole town after her? --t'other young rascal knows where she is, I warrant you. What a plague it is to have a daughter! When one loves her to distraction, and has toiled and laboured to make her happy, the ungrateful slut will sooner go to hell her own way-but she shall have him -I will make her happy, if I break her heart for it.— A provoking gipsy!-to run away, and torment her poor father, that dotes on her! I'll never see her face again. Sir Harry, how can we get any intelligence of her? Why don't you speak? why don't you tell me? -Zounds! you seem as indifferent as if you did not care a farthing about her.

Sir H. Indifferent! you may well call me indifferent!--this damned chase after her will cost me a thousand- -if it had not been for her, I would not have been off the course this week, to have saved the lives of my whole family--I'll hold you six to two that

Rus. Zounds! hold your tongue, or talk more to the purpose- I swear, she is too good for you. you don't deserve such a wife-a fine, dear, sweet, lovely, charming girl!-She'll break my heart.-How shall I find her out?-Do, pr'ythee, Sir Harry, my dear, honest friend, consider how we may discover where she is fled to.

Sir H. Suppose you put an advertisement into the newspapers, describing her marks, her age, her height, and where she strayed from. I recovered a bay mare once by that method.

Rus. Advertise her!-What! describe my daughter, and expose her, in the public papers, with a reward for bringing her home, like horses stolen or strayed! -recovered a bay mare!the devil's in the fellow!--he thinks of nothing but racers, and bay mares, and stallions.- -'Sdeath, I wish your——

Sir H. I wish Harriet was fairly pounded; it would save us both a deal of trouble.

up

Rus. Which way shall I turn myself?--I am half distracted.If I go to that young dog's house, he has certainly conveyed her somewhere out of my reach -if she does not send to me to-day, I'll give her for ever――perhaps though, she may have met with some accident, and has nobody to assist her.-No, she is certainly with that young rascal.-I wish she was dead, and I was dead- -I'll blow young Oakly's brains

out.

Enter Toм.

Sir H. Well, Tom, how is poor Snip?

Tom. A little better, sir, after his warm mash: but Lady, the pointing bitch that followed you all the way, is deadly foot-sore.

Rus. Damn Snip and Lady!-have you heard any thing of Harriet?

Tom. Why, I came on purpose to let my master and your honour know, that John Ostler says as how, just such a lady as I told him Madam Harriet was, came here in a four-wheel chaise, and was fetched away soon after by a fine lady in a chariot.

Rus. Did she come alone?

Tom. Quite alone, only a servant maid, please your honour?

Rus. And what part of the town did they go to?