ACT II. SCENE 1.

A Library in MORTIMER'S House. MORTIMER alone.

Mortimer.

Sot so another day; another twelve hours round of folly and extravagance; 'pshaw, I am sick on't. What is it our men of genius are about? Jarring and jangling with each other, whilst a vast army of vices overruns the whole country at discretion.

Enter JARVIS.

Now, Jarvis, what's your news?

Jar. My morning budget, sir; a breakfast of good deeds; the offerings of a full heart and the return of an empty purse, There, sir, I've done your errand; and wish hereafter you could find another agent for your charities.

Mort. Why so, Charles?

Jar. Because the task grows heavy; besides, I'm old and foolish, and the sight is too affecting.

Mort. Why doesn't do like me then Sheath a soft heart in a rough case, 'twill wear the longer; fineer thyself, good Jarvis, as thy master does, and keep a marble outside to the world. Who dreams that I am the lewd fool of pity, and thou, my pandar, Jarvis, my provider? You found out the poor fellow then, the half pay officer I met last Sunday

Jar. With difficulty; for he obtruded not his sorrows on the world; but in despair had crept into a

corner, and, with his wretched family about him, was patiently expiring.

Mort. Pr'ythee no more on't: you sav'd him; you reliev'd him; no matter how; you made a fellow creature happy, that's enough.

Jar. I did, sir; but his story's so affecting

Mort. Keep it to thyself, old man, then; why must my heart be wrung? I too am one of nature's spoilt children, and hav'n't yet left off the tricks of the nursery.

Enter a Servant.

Serv. Sir, Mr. Tyrrel's come to town, and begs to see you.

Mort. Let him come in.

Enter TYRREL.

[Exit Serv.

So, nephew, what brings you to town? I thought you was a prisoner in the country.

Tyr. I was; but now my Lord Courtland has obtained his liberty, no reason holds why I should not recover mine.

Mort. Well, sir, how have you fill'd up your time? In practising fresh thrusts, or repenting of that which is past? You've drawn your sword to satisfy one man, now think of satisfying the rest of mankind.

Tyr. You know my story, sir: I drew my sword in the defence of innocence: to punish and repel the libertine attempts of an ennobled ruffian; every man of honour would have done the same.

Mort. Yes, honour: you young men are subtle arguers; the cloak of honour covers all your faults, as that of passion all your follies.

Tyr. Honour is what mankind have made it; and as we hold our lives upon these terms, with our lives it behoves us to defend them.

Mort. You have made it reason then it seems; make it religion too, and put it out of fashion with the world at once: of this be sure, I would sooner cast my guineas in the sea, than give 'em to a duellist. But come, Frank, you are one from prejudice, not principle; therefore we'll talk no more on't. Where are you lodged?

Tyr. At the hotel hard by.

Mort. Then move your baggage hither, and keep house with me: you and I, nephew, have such opposite pursuits that we can never justle; besides they tell me you're in love; 'twill make a good companion of you; you shall rail at one sex, while I'm employed with t'other, and thus we may both gratify our spleen at once.

Tyr. O, sir, unless you can consent to hear the praises of my lovely girl from hour to hour, in endless repetition, never suffer me within your doors.

Mort. Thy girl, Frank, is every thing but rich, and that's a main blank in the catalogue of a lady's perfections.

Tyr. Fill it up then, dear uncle; a word of yours will do it.

Mort. True, boy, a word will do it; but 'tis a long word; 'tis a lasting one; it should be, therefore, a deliberate one: but let me see your girl; I'm a sour fellow; so the world thinks of me; but it is against

A& II. the proud, the rich I war: poverty may be a misfortune to Miss Aubrey; it would be hard to make it an objection.

Tyr. How generous is that sentiment!-Let me have your consent for my endeavours at obtaining hers, and I shall be most happy.

Mort. About it then; my part is soon made ready; yours is the task: your are to find out happiness in marriage; I'm only to provide you with a fortune. [Exit Tyr.] Well, Frank, I suspected thou hadst more courage than wit, when I heard of thy engaging in a duel; now thou art for encountering a wife, I am convinced of it. A wife! 'sdeath, sure some planetary madness reigns amongst our wives; the dog-star never sets, and the moon's horns are fallen on our heads.

Enter COLIN.

Colin. The gude time o'day to you, gude Maister Mortimer.

Mort. Well, Colin, what's the news at your house? Colin. Nay, no great spell of news, gude faith; aw things with us gang on after the auld sort. I'm weary of my life amongst 'em; the murrian take 'em all, sike a family of free-booters, Maister Mortimer; an I speak a word to 'em, or preach up a little needful œconomy, hoot! the whole clan is up in arms. I may speak it in your ear, an the de'il himsell was to turn housekeeper, he could na' pitch upon a fitter set; fellows of all trades, countries, and occupations; a ragamuffin crew; the very refuse of the mob, that canna’

Mort. Ay, Colin, things are miserably changed since your old master died.

Colin. Ah, Maister Mortimer, it makes my heart drop blude to think how much gude counsel I ha' cast away upon my laird; i'faith, I hanna 'stinted him o' that; I gee'd him rules and maxims of gude husbandry in plenty, but aw in vain; the dice ha' deafen'd him.

Mort. Yes, and destroyed; his head, heart, hap piness are gone to ruin; the least a gamester loses is his money.

Colin. Ecod, and that's no trifle in this case: last night's performances made no small hole in that, Mort. Whence learn you that?

Colin. From little Napthali, of St. Mary. Axe: when a man borrows money of a Jew, 'tis a presumption no Christian can be found to lend him any.

Mort. Is your lord driven to such wretched shifts? Colin. Hoot know you not that every losing gamester has his Jew? He is your only doctor in a desperate case; when the regulars have brought you to Death's door, the quack is invited to usher you in.

Mort. Your Jew, Colin, in the present case, favours more of the lawyer than the doctor: for I take it he makes you sign and seal as long as you have effects.

Colin. You've hit the nail o' the hede; my laird will sign to any thing; there's bonds, and blanks, and bargains, and promisary notes, and a damned sight

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