of a promise to let the Countess of Nicely have the first sight of it, for the birth-day; but your ladyship

Lady W. Oh, I die if I don't see it before her.

'Squire R. Woant you goa, feyther?

Sir Fran. Waunds, lad, I shall ha' no stomach, at this râte !

Mrs. M. Well, madam, though I say it, 'tis the sweetest pattern that ever came over-and, for fineness-no cobweb comes up to it.

Sir Fran. Ods guts and gizzard, madam! Lace as fine as a cobweb! why, what the devil's that to cost, now?

Mrs. M. Nay, if Sir Francis does not like of it, madam

Lady W. He like it! Dear Mrs. Motherly, he is not to wear it.

Sir Fran. Flesh, madam! but I suppose I am to pay Γ for it.

Lady W. No doubt on't! Think of your thousand a year, and who got it you; go, eat your dinner, and be thankful, go! [Driving him to the door.] Come, Mrs. Motherly.

[Exit LADY WRONGHEAD, with MRS. MOTHERLY. Sir Fran. Very fine! so here I mun fast, till I am almost famished, for the good of my country, while madam is laying me out an hundred pound a day, in lace as fine as a cobweb, for the honour of my family! Ods flesh things had need go well at this rate!

'Squire R. Nay, nay-come, feyther.

[Exeunt SIR FRANCIS and 'SQUIRE RICHARD.

Enter MYRTILLA.

Myr. Madam, my lady desires you and the Count will please to come, and assist her fancy in some of the new laces.

Count B. We'll wait upon her

Jenny. So, I told you how it was; you see she can't bear to leave us together.

Count B. No matter, my dear: you know she has asked me to stay supper: so, when your papa and she are a-bed, Mrs. Myrtilla will let me into the house again; then you may steal into her chamber, and we'll have a pretty sneaker of punch together.

Myr. Ay, ay, madam, you may command me in any thing.

to her alone, my life:

Jenny. Well, that will be pure! Count B. But you had best go it will look better, if I come after you.

Jenny. Ay, so it will: and to-morrow, you know, at

the masquerade: and then!

Myr. So, sir, am not I very commode to you?

[Exit.

Count B. Well, child, and don't you find your account in it? Did I not tell you we might still be of use to one another?

Myr. Well, but how stands your affair with miss in the main?

Count B. Oh, she's mad for the masquerade! It drives like a nail; we want nothing now but a parson to clinch it. Did not your aunt say she could get one at a short warning?

Myr. Yes, yes, my Lord Townly's chaplain is her cousin, you know; he'll do your business and mine, at the same time.

Count B. Oh, it's true! but where shall we appoint him?

Myr. Why, you know my Lady Townly's house is always open to the masks upon a ball night, before they go to the Haymarket.

Count B. Good.

Myr. Now, the doctor proposes we should all come thither in our habits, and, when the rooms are full, we may steal up into his chamber, he says, and there

crack-he'll give us all canonical commission to go to bed together.

Count. B. Admirable! Well, the devil fetch me, if I shall not be heartily glad to see thee well settled, child.

Myr. And may he tuck me under his arm at the same time, if I shall not think myself obliged to you as long as I live-But I must run to my 'squire.

Count B. And I to the ladies-so, your humble servant, sweet Mrs. Wronghead!

Myr. Yours, as in duty bound, most noble Count Basset! [Exit. Count B. Why, ay! Count! That title has been of some use to me, indeed; not that I have any more pretence to it, than I have to a blue ribbon. Yet I have made a pretty considerable figure in life with it. I have lolled in my own chariot, dealt at assemblies, dined with ambassadors, and made one at quadrille with the first women of quality-But-tempora mutantur—— since that damned squadron at White's have left me out of their last secret, I am reduced to trade upon my own stock of industry, and make my last push upon a wife. If I can snap up Miss Jenny, and her eight thousand pounds, I shall once more cut a figure, and cock my hat in the face of the best of them: for, since our modern men of fortune are grown wise enough to be sharpers, I think sharpers are fools, that don't take up the airs of men of quality.

[Exit.

ACT V.

Scene I.-Lord Townly's House.

Enter WILLIAMS and MR. MANLY.

Will. I believe it is Sir Francis Wronghead, sir. Manly. Desire Sir Francis to walk in. [Exit WILLIAMS.-I suppose, by this time, his wise worship begins to find that the balance of his journey to London is on the wrong side.

Enter SIR FRANCIS WRONGHEAD.

Sir Francis your servant. How came I by the favour of this extraordinary visit?

Sir Frun. Ah, cousin!

Manly. Why that sorrowful face, man?

Sir Fran. I have no friend alive but you→→→→

Manly. I am sorry

for that-But what's the matter? Sir Fran. I have played the fool by this journey, I see now -for my bitter wife

Manly. What of her?

Sir Fran. Is playing the devil.

Manly. Why, truly, that's a part that most of your fine ladies begin with, as soon as they get to London.

Sir Fran. If I'm a living man, cousin, she has made away with above two hundred and fifty pounds since yesterday morning. But there's one hundred on't goes more to my heart than all the rest.

Manly. And how might that be disposed of?

Sir Fran. Troth, I am almost ashamed to tell you.
Manly. Out with it.

Sir Fran. Why, she has been at an assembly. Manly. What, since I saw you! I thought you had all supped at home last night.

VOL. I.

Sir Fran. Why, so we did—and all as merry as grigs-I'cod, my heart was so open, that I tossed another hundred into her apron, to go out early this morning with But the cloth was no sooner taken away, than in comes my Lady Townly here, with another rantipole dame of quality, and out they must have her, they said, to introduce her at my Lady Noble's assembly, forsooth-A few words, you may be sure, made the bargain-so, bawnce! and away they drive, as if the devil had got into the coach-box- about four or five in the morning-home comes madam, with her eyes a foot deep in her head-and my poor hundred pounds left behind her at the hazard-table. Manly. All lost at dice!

-so,

Sir Fran. Every shilling-among a parcel of pigtail puppies, and pale-faced women of quality.

Manly. If you remember, I gave you a hint of this.

Sir Fran. Why, ay, it's true, you did so: but the devil himself could not have believed she would have rid post to him.

Manly. Sir, if you stay but a fortnight in this town, you will every day see hundreds as fast upon the gallop

as she is.

Sir Fran. Ah, this London is a base place indeed! Waunds, if things should happen to go wrong with me at Westminster, at this rate, how the devil shall I keep out of a gaol?

Manly. Why, truly, there seems to me but one way

to avoid it.

Sir Fran. Ah, would you could tell me that, cousin! Manly. The way lies plain before you, sir; the same road that brought you hither, will carry you safe home again.

Sir Fran. Ods flesh, cousin! what! and leave a thousand pounds a year behind me?

Manly. Pooh, pooh! leave any thing behind you, but your family, and you are a saver by it.