mist of his own; and that I must disclaim his friendship, who ceases to be a friend to himself.

[Exit.

Mr. H. How is this! she has confessed she loved him, and yet she seemed to part in displeasure. Can I have done any thing to reproach myself with?—No, I believe not.

Enter CROAKER, with the Letter in his Hand, and MRS. CROAKER.

Mrs. C. Ha ha! ha! And so, my dear, it's your supreme wish that I should be quite wretched upon

this occasion? Ha ha!

Croak. [Mimicking.] Ha! ha! ha! and so, my dear, it's your supreme pleasure to give me no better consolation?

Mrs. C. Positively, my dear, what is this incendiary stuff and trumpery to me? Our house may travel through the air, like the house of Loretto, for aught I care, if I'm to be miserable in it.

Croak. 'Would to Heaven it were converted into a house of correction, for your benefit. Have we not every thing to alarm us? Perhaps, this very moment, the tragedy is beginning.

Mrs. C. Then let us reserve our distress till the rising of the curtain, or give them the money they want, and have done with them.

Croak. Give them my money!—And pray, what right have they to my money?

Mrs. C. And pray, what right then, have you to my good humour?

Croak. And so your good humour advises me to part with my money! Why, then, to tell your good humour a piece of my mind, I'd sooner part with my wife. Here's Mr. Honeywood, see what he'll say to it. My dear Honeywood, look at this incendiary let ter dropped at my door. It will freeze you with terror; and yet lovey here can read it-can read it, and laugh.

Mrs. C. Yes, and so will Mr. Honeywood. Croak. If he does, I'll suffer to be hanged the next minute, in the rogue's place, that's all.

Mrs. C. Speak, Mr. Honeywood; is there any thing more foolish, than my husband's fright upon this occasion?

Mr. H. It would not become me to decide, madam; but doubtless, the greatness of his terrors now, will but invite them to renew their villany another time.

Mrs. C. I told you he'd be of my opinion.

Croak. How, sir! do you maintain that I should lie down under such an injury, and show, neither by my tears, or complaints, that I have something of the spirit of a man in me?

Mr. H. Pardon me, sir; You ought to make the loudest complaints, if you desire redress. The surest way to have redress, is to be earnest in the pursuit of it.

Croak. Then you think I'm in the right.
Mr. H. Yes.

Croak. Ay, whose opinion is he of now?

Mrs. C. But don't you think that laughing off our fears, is the best way?

Mr. H. What is the best, madam, few can say; but I'll maintain it to be a very wise way.

Mrs. C. O, then you think I'm quite right?
Mr. H. Perfectly right.

Croak. A plague of plagues! we can't be both right. I ought to be sorry, or I ought to be glad. -My hat must be on my head, or my hat must

be off.

Mrs. C. Certainly, in two opposite opinions, if one be perfectly reasonable, the other can't be perfectly right.

Mr. H. And why may not both be right, madam? Mr. Croaker in earnestly seeking redress, and you, in waiting the event in good humour? Pray let me see

the letter again-I have it.-This letter requires twenty guincas to be left at the bar of the Talbot inn. If it be indeed an incendiary letter, what if you and I, sir, go there; and, when the writer comes to be paid his expected booty, seize him.

Croak. My dear friend, it's the very thing-the very thing. While I walk by the door, you shall plant yourself in ambush near the bar-burst out upon the miscreant like a masked battery-extort a confession at once, and so hang him up by surprise.

Mr. H. Yes-but I would not chuse to exercise too much severity. It is my maxim, sir, that crimes generally punish themselves.

Croak. Well, but we may upbraid him a little, I suppose?

[Ironically. Mr. H. Ay, but not punish him too rigidly. Croak. Well, well, leave that to my own benevolence.

Mr. H. Well, I do; but remember, that universal benevolence is the first law of nature.

[Exeunt HONEYWOOD and MRS. CROAKER. Croak. Yes-and my universal benevolence will hang the dog, if he had as many necks as a hydra.

ACT THE FIFTH.

SCENE I.

[Exit.

An Inn.

Enter OLIVIA and JARVIS.

Olivia. Well, we have got safe to the inn, however. Now, if the post-chaise were ready

Jarvis. The horses are just finishing their oats; and, as they are not going to be married, they chuse to take their own time,

Olivia. You are for ever giving wrong motives to my impatience.

Jarvis. Be as impatient as you will, the horses must take their own time: besides, you don't consider, we have got no answer from our fellow traveller yet. If we hear nothing from Mr. Leontine, we have only left us.

one way

Olivia. What way?

Jarvis. The way home again.

Olivia. Not so. I have made a resolution to go; and nothing shall induce me to break it.

Jarvis. Ay, resolutions are well kept, when they jump with inclination. However, I'll go hasten things without. And I'll call too at the bar, to see if any thing should be left for us there. Don't be in such a plaguy hurry, madam, and we shall go the faster, I promise you. [Exit JARVIS. Landlady. [Without.] What Solomon! why don't you move? Pipes and tobacco for the Lamb there.Will nobody answer? To the Dolphin-quick. The Angel has been outrageous this half hour.

Enter LANDLADY.

Did your ladyship call, madam?
Olivia. No, madam.

Landl. I find, as you're for Scotland, madam—But that's no business of mine; married, or not married, I ask no questions. To be sure, we had a sweet little couple set off from this two days ago, for the same place. The gentleman, for a tailor, was, to be sure, as fine a spoken tailor, as ever blew froth from a full pot. And the young lady so bashful, it was near half an hour before we could get her to finish a pint of raspberry between us.

Olivia. But this gentleman and I are not going to be married, I assure you.

Landl. May be not. That's no business of mine; for certain, Scotch marriages seldom turn out well. There was, of my own knowledge, Miss Macfag, that married her father's footman.-Alack-a-day, she and her husband soon parted, and now keep separate cellars in Hedge Lane.

Olivia. A very pretty picture of what lies before [Aside.

me!

Enter LEONTINE.

Leon. My dear Olivia, my anxiety, till you were out of danger, was too great to be resisted. I could not help coming to see you set out, though it exposes us to a discovery.

Olivia. May every thing you do, prove as fortunate! Indeed, Leontine, we have been most cruelly disappointed: Mr. Honeywood's bill upon the city has, it seems, been protested, and we have been utterly at a loss how to proceed.

Leon. How! an offer of his own too. Sure, he could not mean to deceive us.

Olivia. Depend upon his sincerity; he only mistook the desire, for the power, of serving us. But let us think no more of it. I believe the post-chaise is ready by this.

Landl. Not quite yet: and, begging your ladyship's pardon, I don't think your ladyship quite ready for the post-chaise. The North road is a cold place, madam. I have a drop in the house of as pretty raspberry, as ever was tipt over tongue. Just a thimblefull to keep the wind off your stomach. To be sure, the last couple we had here, they said it was a perfect nosegay. Ecod, I sent them both away as goodnatured-Up went the blinds, round went the wheels, and drive away, post-boy, was the word.