this business is over. I think I'll let the matter alone

at present.

Gov. The devil you will!-why, by to-morrow, Woodville may have married her.

Lord G. D'ye think so?-Well, then let's go.

Gov. And what d'ye intend to do with her, pray? Lord G. [Aside.] I won't trust this weathercock till all is safe. I care not what becomes of her, so she is out of my way;-send her to Bridewell, perhaps !

Gov. To Bridewell, truly?—No, that you shan't, neither; Bridewell, quotha!-why, who knows but the fault may be all that young Rakehell your son's?

Lord G. My son's, sir! let me tell you, I have not bred him in such a manner.

Gov. Oh, if breeding were any security-Zounds, I shall betray all by another word! [Aside.

Lord G. What now can have changed you?-But you are more inconstant than our climate.-Did you ever know one minute what you shou'd think the next? However, to satisfy your scruples, I intend to dispatch her to a nunnery; and, if that don't please you, e’en take charge of her yourself. [Exeunt together.

VANE comes forward.

Vane. Ha, ha, ha! why, this would make a comedy! -And so, of all birds in the air, his dignified lordship has pitched upon me for the husband of the Governor's daughter and his own niece!-Well, if I can but go thro' with this, it will be admirable !-Thank'd by one for making my fortune, and safe from the anger of all.

Enter a SERVANT.

Ser. Mr. Woodville, sir, is just gone into the house you bade me watch. [Exit

Vane. The devil he is!-Why then I must consign my intended to him for one more night, and persuade

my lord to delay our seizure till morning;-for, to meet with him, would certainly produce an agreement of all parties, and a marriage which would never enrol my name in the family pedigree, or Governor's will.

Scene III.-Cecilia's Dressing-room.-Candles burning, and her clothes scattered.

Enter WOODville.

Wood. Thanks to that dear lawyer's lucky absence, I have a few happy hours, my love, to spend with thee!— [Looks at her clothes.]-Already retired? Sure I have not left my key in the garden-gate.-No, here it is. [Rings the bell and takes off his sword, then throws himself into a chair.] Nobody answer-I don't understand this. -Perhaps I shall disturb her—I'll steal into her chamber-[Goes off, and presently returns disordered.]-Not there! her clothes too, the same she had on last ;-oh, my heart misgives me!-But where are all the servants? [Rings very violently, calling at the same

time, Bridget! Robert! Jacob!]

Enter BRIDGET, with her hat on.

Bridget! what's become of your lady?

Brid. Really, sir, I can't say ;-don't you know?
Wood. If I did I shou'dn't have ask'd you.

Brid. [After a little pause.] Why, sure, sir, my lady has not run away? and yet something runs in my head, as if she had.-I thought that spark came for no good to-day.

Wood. What spark, girl?

Brid. Why, just after you went away, comes a young man, a monstrous genteel one, and very handsome too, I must needs say; with fine dark eyes and a fresh colour.

Wood. D-n his colour! tell me his business.

Brid. So he axed for my lady, and would not tell me what he wanted: I came with her, however, but she no sooner set eyes on him than she sent me out; which argufied no good, you'll say; and, before I could possibly come back, though I ran as fast as ever my legs could carry me, he was gone, and she writing and crying for dear life;-but that was no news, so I did not mind it and when she gave me leave to go to the play, thought no more harm than the child unborn,

Wood. It must be a scheme beyond all doubt, and I am the dupe of a dissembling, ungrateful-Oh, Cecilia! [Throws himself into a chair.]

Brid. [Softening her voice, and setting her dress.] If I was as you, sir, I would not fret about her :-there is not a lady in the land would slight a gentleman so handsome and sweet temper'd-I scorns to flatter, for my part.-Inferials mustn't direct their betters: but, had I been in my lady's place, a king upon his throne would not have tempted me.-Handsome him that handsome does, say I; and I am sure you did handsome by her; for, if she could have eat gold, she might have had it.— He might take some notice, truly, [Aside.

Wood. [Starting up.] Where was she writing?
Brid. In the little drawing-room, sir.

.

BRIDGET alone.

[Exit WOODVILle,

This ridiculous love turns people's brains, I think. -I am sure I said enough to open his eyes:-But, may be, I don't look so handsome, because I am not so fine. Hey, a thought strikes me! My lady is gone, that's plain back she will not come, is as plain.[Gathers together CECILIA's elegant clothes.] I'll put on these, and he'll think she gave 'em to me:-then he may find out, I am as pretty as she; if not he and I are of very different opinions.

:

[Exit.

Re-enter WOODVILLE, more disordered.

Wood. Cruel, ungrateful, barbarous girl!-to forsake me in the very moment I was resolving to sacrifice ev'ry thing to her!-But 'tis just.-First dupes to the arts of man, the pupil soon knows how to foil him at his own weapons. Perhaps the discovery is fortunate: in a short time, I must have borne the whole disgrace of her ill conduct, and my father's resentment had the bitterest aggravation. But is she indeed gone? and will continual to-morrows come, without one hope to render them welcome?

Enter JACOB.

Villain! where's your lady?

Jac. 'Las a deazy, how can I tell, zur?
Wood. Where are all your fellows?

Jac. Abroad, making haliday.

Wood. When did you go out? who gave you leave? Jac. My leady, her own zelf; and I'll tell you how 'tware.-Arter dinner I geed her a noate; and, when zhe had red un, zhe axed me if zo be as how I had ever zeed the lions? Zoa I told her noa; nor no mour I never did. Zoa zhe geed me half-a-crown, and bid me goa and make myself happy. I thought it ware desperate koind of her; zoa I went and zeed the huge creturs; and arter, only stopp'd a bit to peap at the Moniment, and hay my fortin tuold by conj'rer in the Old Bailey; and aw said

Wood. What the devil does it signify to me what he said?-Hark'e, sir, I see in your face you know more of your mistress.

Jac. Dang it, then, my feace do lie hugely!

Wood. Tell me the whole truth, villain! or I'll stab [Draws his sword.

you to the heart this instant.

Jac. [Kneels.] I wull, zur, indeed I wull: doan't ye terrify me zoa! I do forget every thing in the whole world.

Wood. Be sincere, and depend upon my rewarding

you.

Jac. Why, I wish I meay die this maument, if conj'rer did not zey I should lose my pleace! nay, aw do verily think aw zaid zomething o' my being put in fear o' my loife. Loard knaws, I little thought how zoon his words would come to pass.

Wood. Will you dally?

Jac. Zoa, as I zaid, zur, when I com'd home again, I found all the duors aupen, and not a zoul to be zeed.

Wood. [Aside.] This fellow can never mean to impose on me, and I must think it a planned affair.-While I was in the country, Jacob, did your mistress see much company?

Jac. Cuompany!-noa, not to speak an-not gentlewomen.

Wood. Gentlewomen! blockhead! why had she any male visitors?

Jac. Anan ?

Wood. I must brain thee at last, booby!

men come to see her, then?

Did any

Jac. Oh yes, zur, yes-two gentlemen com'd almost ev'ry deay.

Wood. How, two gentlemen? I shall run distracted! Young and handsome?

Jac. Not auver young, zur, nor auver handsome; but drest muortal foine.

while

Wood. So they came almost ev'ry day?-Very pretty indeed, Miss Cecilia !-Was you never call'd up they staid?-Did they come together or alone?

Jac. Aloane.

Wood. I thought as much; yes, I thought as much. But was you never call'd up, Jacob?

Jac. Yes, zur, when one aw um ware here one deay, I ware caal'd up for zomething or other.

Wood. Well! why don't you go on I am on the rack!