pratty many countrymen in town, with better appetites than purses, who will applaud the regulation.

Lord Abb. 'Tis for such purses and such appetites you would be a fit provider; 'tis for the latitude of the Highlands, not for the meridan of London, your narrow scale of economy is laid down.

Colin. Oeconomy is no disgrace; 'tis better living on a little, than outliving a great deal.

Lord Abb. Well, sir, you may be honest, but you are troublesome; my family are one and all in arms against you; and you must know, Colin Macleod, I've great objection to a rebellion either in a family or state, whatever you and your countrymen may think of the matter.

Colin. My lord, my lord; when you have shad the blude of the offenders, it is na' generous to revive the offence as for mine awn particular, Heaven be my judge, the realms of England does na' haud a heart more loyal than the one I strike my honde upon.

Enter Dr. Druid.

Lord Abb. So, doctor, what's the news with you?— Well, Colin, let me hear no more of these complaints; don't be so considerate of me—and hark'e, if you was not quite so parsimonious to yourself, your appearance would be all the better.

Colin. Troth, I'd be better habited, but I canna' afford it.

Lord Abb. Afford it, sirrah? Don't I know you have money enough, if you had but spirit to make use of it.

Colin. True; but I fain would keep a little to. gether, d'ye see, lest you should not. [Exit.

Dr. Druid. Plessing upon us, how the man prates and prattles! 'Twas but this morning he was differing and disputing, truly, about pedigrees and antiquities, though I can count forty and four generations from the grandmother of Saint Winifred, as regularly as a monk can tell his beads.

Lord Abb. Leave your generations to the worms, doctor, and tell me if you carried my message to Bridgemore-But why do I ask that? When I my.. self am come from putting the finishing hand to that treaty and really, if young women will keep companions who are handsomer than themselves, they musn't wonder if their lovers go astray.

Dr. Druid. Ah, my Lord Apperville, my Lord Apperville, you've something there to answer for.

Lord abb. Preach not, good sixty-five, thy cold continence to twenty-three; the stars are in my debt one lucky throw at least; let them bestow Miss Au. brey, and I'll cancel all that's past. [ A Servant delivers a letter.] What have we here?—From Tyrrel I suppose-No, 'tis from a more peaceable quarter; my commodious Mrs. Macintosh. [Reads.] Chance has thrown in my way a girl, that quite eclipses · your Miss Somers: come to me without loss of time, lest the bird should be on the wing.'-What shall I do? I have but little stomach to the business. Aubrey is my goddess, and 'tis downright heresy to follow any other.

Enter a Servant.

Serv. My lord, a person without says he comes with a recommendation from Sir Harry Gamble. Lord Abb. What sort of a person'?

Serv. A little ugly fellow: I believe he's a Jew. Lord Abb. That's right, I had forgot: my Jew is fairly jaded; Sir Harry's probably is better trained; so let me see him: who is in the anti-chamber?

Serv. There are several persons waiting to speak with your lordship; they have called a great many

times.

Lord Abb. Ay, ay, they come for money; he alore comes with it; therefore conduct that little ugly QIlow as you call him to my closet, and bid those other people call again. [Exit Serv.] Doctor if any of my particulars are importunate to see me, don't let the interrupt me here; tell them I'm gone to Mrs. Macintosh's; they'll know the place, and my business

in it.

[Exit.

Dr. Druid. They may guess that without the-giti of divination truly: ah! this passion is the prejudica of education ! He may thank France and Italy for this: I would have carried him through Ingria, ́Esthonia, and Livonia; through Moldavia, Bessarabia, Bulgaria, Thrace; from the Gulf of Finland to the Streights of the Dardanelles. 'Tis a chance it he had seen a human creature in the whole course of his travels.

Enter TYRREL

Tyr. Doctor, forgive me this intrusion; where is

Lord Abberville His servants deny him to me, and I have business with him of a pressing sort. Dr. Druid. Business indeed!

Tyr. Yes, business, sir: I beg you to inform me where to find him.

Dr. Druid. I take it, Mr. Tyrrel, you are one of his particulars, therefore I tell you, he is gone to Mrs. Macintosh's; a commodious sort of a pody, who follows one trade in her shop, and another in her parlour. Tyr. Yes, yes, I know her well, and know his business there.

Dr. Druid. Pleasure is all his business: I take for granted he finds some gratification in his visits there.

Tyr. Yes, the gratification of a devil; the pleasure of defacing beauty and dispoiling innocence, of planting everlasting misery in the human heart for one licentious transitory joy: 'tis there he holds his riots; thither he is gone to repeat his triumphs over my unhappy Aubrey, and confirm her in her shame.

Dr. Druid. Ay, I suppose Miss Aubrey is the reigning passion now.

Tyr. Curs'd be his passions, wither'd be his powers! Oh, sir, she was an angel once: such was the grateful modesty of her deportment, it seems as if the chastity, which now so many of her sex throw from them, centered all with her.

Dr. Druid. I've told too much; this lad's as mad as he-Well, Mr. Tyrrel, I can say but little in the case; women and politics I never deal in; in other words, I abhor cuckoldom, and have no passion for the pillory.

[Exit.

Enter COLIN.

Colin. Gang your gait for an old smoak-dried piece of goat's flesh. [Shuts the door.]—Now we're alone, young gentleman, there's something for your private reading. [Delivers a letter. Tyr. What do I see? Miss Aubrey's hand! Why does she write to me -Distraction! how this racks my heart!

Colin. Ay, and mine too-Ecod, it gave it sic a pull, I canna' for the saul of me, get it bock into its place again-gude truth, you'll find it but a melancholy

tale.

Tyr. [Reads.] I am the martyr of an accident, 'which never will find credit; under this stroke, I 'cann't conceal a wish that Mr. Tyrrel would not give me up; but as his single opposition to the 'world's reproach might be as dangerous to him, as it must be ineffectual to me, I earnestly advise him 'to forget the unfortunate AUGUSTA.' -What am I to conclude? The paper looks like innocence; the words are soft as modesty could unter. -The martyr of an accident!'--She calls it accident; why, that's no crime.-Alas! it might be accident which threw temptation in her way, but voluntary guilt which yielded to the tempter;-of him she makes no mention.-Pray, sir, inform me; you have seen this lady

Colin. I have.

Tyr. Discours'd with her

Colin. I have.