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I wou'dn't be articled clerk to such a fellow for the world.

Plant. Hey-day! the booby's in love with her! Why, sure, friend, you would not live here with a black ?

Trudge. Plague on't ; there it is. I shall be laughed out of my honesty, here.-But you may be jogging, friend: I may feel a little queer, perhaps, at showing her face—but, damn me, if ever I do anything to make me ashamed of showing my own.

Plant. Why, I tell you, her very complexion

Trudge. Rot her complexion !I'll tell you what, Mr Fair.trader, if your head and heart were to change places, I've a notion you'd be as black in the face as an ink-bottle.

Plant. Pshaw! the fellow's a fool-a rude rascal he ought to be sent back to the savages again. He's not fit to live among us Christians. [Exit PLANTER.

Trudge. Oh, here comes my master, at last.

Enter INKLE, and a second PLANTER. Inkle. Nay, sir, I understand your customs well; your Indian markets are not unknown to me.

2d Plant. And, as you seem to understand business, I need not tell you, that dispatch is the soul of it. Her name, you say, is

Inkle. Yarico : but urge this no more, I beg you ; I must not listen to it: for, to speak freely, er anxious care of me demands, that here,--though here it may seem strange I should avow my love for her.

Plant. Lord help you for a merchant! It's the first time I ever heard a trader talk of love ; except, indeed, the love of trade, and the love of the Sweet Molly, my ship. Inkle. Then, sir, you cannot feel my

situation. Plant. Oh yes, I can! we have a hundred such cases just after a voyage ; but they never last long on

land. It's amazing how constant a young man is in a ship! But, in two words, will you dispose of her, or no ?

Inkle. In two words, then, meet me here at noon, and we'll speak further on this subject : and lest you think I trifle with your business, hear why I wish this pause.

Chance threw me, on my passage to your island, among a savage people. Deserted, defenceless,-cut off from coiopanions,my life at stake, to this young creature I owe my preservation ;-she found me, like a dying bough, torn from its kindred branches; which, as it drooped, she moistened with her tears.

Plant. Nay, nay, talk like a man of this world.

Inkle. Your patience.- And yet your interruption goes to my present feelings } for on our sail to this your island--the thoughts of time mispent-doubtfearaç for call it what you will have much perplexed me; and as your spires arose, reflections still rose with them; for here, sir, lie my interests, great connexions, and other weighty matters which now I need not mention

Plant. But which her presence here will mar. Inkle. Even 80-and yet the gratitude I owe aer

Plant. Pshaw! So because she preserved your life, your gratitude is to make you give up all you have to live upon ?

Inkle. Why, in that light indeedThis never struck me yet, I'll think on’t.

Plant. Ay, ay, do so --Why, what return can the wench wish more than taking her from a wild, idle, savage people, and providing for her, here, with reputable hard work, in a genteel, polished, tender, Christian country?

Inkle. Well, sir, at noon

Plant, I'll meet you--but remember, young gentleman, you must get her off your hands-you must, indeed, I shall have her a bargain, I see that your

and con

servant !--Zounds, how late it is--but never be put out of your way for a woman-I must run-my wife will play the devil with me for keeping breakfast. | Exit.

Inkle. Trudge.
Trudge. Sir!
Inkle. Have you provided a proper apartment ?

Trudge. Yes, sir, at the Crown here; a neat, spruce room, they tell me. You have not seen such a convenient lodging this good while, I believe.

Inkle. Are there no better inns in the town?

Trudge. Um-Why there is the Lion, I hear, and the Bear, and the Boar—but we saw them at the door of all our late lodgings, and found but bad accommodations within, sir. Inkle. Well, run to the end of the

quay, duct Yarico hither. The road is straight before you : you

can't miss it. Trudge. Very well, sir. What a fine thing it is to turn one's back on a master, without running into a wolf's belly ! One can follow one's nose on a message here, and be sure it won't be bit off by the way.

Erit. Inkle. Let me reflect a little. Part with her! My interest, honour, engagements to Narcissa, all demand it. My father's precepts too- I can remember, when I was a boy, what pains he took to mould me.-School'd me from morn to night and still the burden of his song was-Prudence! Prudence! Thomas, and you'll rise.

His maxims rooted in my heart, and as I grew-they grew, till I was reckoned, among our friends, a steady, sober, solid, good young man; and all the neighbours called me the prudent Mr Thomas. And shall I now, at once, kick down the character which I have raised so warily! - Part with hero-sell her?-- The thought once struck me in our cabin, as she lay sleeping by me; but, in her slumbers, she passed her arm round me, murmured a blessing on my name, and broke my meditations.

Enter YARICO and TRUDGE. Yar. My love!

Trudge. I have been showing her all the wigs and bales of goods we met on the quay,

sir. Yar. Oh! I have feasted my eyes on wonders.

Trudge. And I'll go feast on a slice of beef, in the inn, here.

[Exit. Yar. My mind has been so busy, that I almost forgot even you. I wish

you

had staid with me -You would have seen such sights !

Inkle. Those sights have become familiar to me, Yarico.

Yar. And yet I wish they were not You might partake my pleasures—but now again, methinks, I will not wish so-for, with too much gazing, you might neglect poor Yarico.

Inkle. Nay, nay, my care is still for you.

Yar. I am sure it is : and if I thought it was not, I would tell you tales about our poor old grot-bid you remember our palm-tree near the brook, where in the shade you often stretched yourself, while I would take

your

head upon my lap, and sing my love to sleep. I know you'll love me then.

SONG.

Our grotto was the sweetest place!

The bending boughs, with fragrance blowing, Would check the brook's impetuous pace, Which murmur'd to be stopp'd

from flowing. 'Twas there we met and gazed our fill : Ah! think on this, and love me still. 'Twas then my bosom first knew fear,

- Fear to an Indian maid a stranger-
The war-song, arrows, hatchet, spear,

All warn'd me of my lover's danger,
For him did cares my bosom fill :
Ah! think on this, and love me still.

For him, by day, with care conceald,

To search for food I climb'd the mountain;
And when the night no form reveald,

Jocund we sought the bubbling fountain.
Then, then would joy my bosom fill ;
Ah! think on this and love me still.

(Exeunt.

SCENE II.

An Apartment in the House of Sir CHRISTOPHER

CURRY.

Enter Sir CHRISTOPHER and MEDIUM.

Sir Chr. I tell you, old Medium, you are all wrong. Plague on your doubts ! Inkle shall have my Narcissa. Poor fellow ! I dare say he's finely chagrined at this temporary parting-Eat up with the blue devils, I warrant.

Med. Eat up by the black devils, I warrant; for I left him in hellish hungry company,

Sir Chr. Pshaw ! he'll arrive with the next vessel, depend on't-besides, have not I had this in view ever since they were children? I must and will have it so, I tell you. Is not it, as it were, a marriage made above? They shall meet, I'm positive.

Med. Shall they? Then they must meet where the marriage was made ; for hang me, if I think it will ever happen below.

Sir Chr. Ha! and if that is the case—hang me, if I think you'll ever be at the celebration of it

. Med. Yet, let me tell you, Sir Christopher Curry, my character is as unsullied as a sheet of white paper.

Sir Chr. Well said, old fools-cap! and it's as mere

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