You, alone, my heart I fix on:
Ah, you little cunning vixen!
I can see your roguish smiles.
Addslids! my mind is so possess'd,
Till we're sped, I shan't have rest;
Only say, the thing's a bargain,
Here, an you like it,
Ready to strike it,

There's at once an end of arguing:

I'm hers, she's mine;

Thus we seal, and thus we sign.

Enter PATTY.

[Exit.

Fair. Patty, child, why wouldst not thou open the door, for cur neighbour Giles?

Patty. Really, father, I did not know what was the

matter.

Fair. Well, another time; he'll be here again presently. He's gone up to the castle, Patty;-thou know'st, it would not be right for us to do any thing without giving his lordship intelligence, so I have sent the farmer, to let him know, that he is willing, and we are willing; and, with his lordship's approbationPatty. Oh, dear father!-what are you going to

say?

Fair. Nay, child, I would not have stirred a step for fifty pounds, without advertising his lordship beforehand.

Patty. But surely, surely, you have not done this rash, this precipitate, thing.

Fair. How, rash? how is it rash, Patty?—I don't understand thee.

Patty. Oh, you have distressed me, beyond imagination!-but why would you not give me notice— speak to me first?

Fair. Quiet thyself, Patty, and thou'lt see all this will turn out for the best.

[Exit.

I

Patty. What will become of me?—my lord will certainly imagine this is done with my consentWell, is he not himself going to be married to a lady, suitable to him in rank, suitable to him in fortune, as this farmer is to me; and under what pretence can I refuse the husband my father has found for me! Shall say that I have dared to raise my inclinations above my condition, and presumed to love, where my duty taught me only gratitude and respect? Alas! who could live in the house with Lord Aimworth, see him, converse with him, and not love him! I have this consolation, however, my folly is yet undiscovered to any; else, how should I be ridiculed and despised! nay, would not my lord himself despise me; especially, if he knew that I have more than once construed his natural affability and politeness into sentiments as unworthy of him, as mine are bold and extravagant. Unexampled vanity! [Exit.

SCENE II.

A Room in LORD AIMWORTH's House.

SIR HARRY SYCAMORE and THEODOSIA.

Sir Harry. Well, but, Theodosia, child, you are quite unreasonable.

Theod. Pardon me, papa, it is not I am unreasonable: when I gave way to my inclinations for Mr. Mervin, he did not seem less agreeable to you and to my mamma, than he was acceptable to me. It is therefore you have been unreasonable, in first encouraging his addresses, and afterwards forbidding him your house;

in order to bring me down here, to force me on a gentleman

Sir Harry. Force you, Dossy, what do you mean? By the la, I would not force you on the Czar of MusCovy!

Theod. And yet, papa, what else can I call it? for though Lord Aimworth is extremely attentive and obliging, I assure you he is by no means one of the most ardent of lovers.

Sir Harry. Ardent, ah! there it is; you girls never think there is any love, without kissing and hugging; but you should consider, child, my Lord Aimworth is a polite man, and has been abroad in France and Italy, where these things are not the fashion; I remember when I was on my travels, among the madames and signoras, we never saluted more than the tip of the ear.

Theod. Really, papa, you have a very strange opinion of my delicay; I had no such stuff in my thoughts.

Sir Harry. Well, come, my poor Dossy, I see you are chagrined, but you know it is not my fault; on the contrary, I assure you, I had always a great regard for young Mervin, and should have been very glad

Theod. How then, papa, could you join in forcing me to write him that strange letter, never to see me more; or how indeed could I comply with your commands? what must he think of me?

Sir Harry. Ay, but hold, Dossy, your mamma convinced me that he was not so proper a son-in-law for us as Lord Aimworth.

Theod. Convinced you! Ah, my dear papa, you were not convinced.

Sir Harry. What, don't I know when I am convinced?

Theod. Why no, papa; because your goodnature and easiness of temper is such, that you pay more

respect to the judgment of mamma, and less to your own, than you ought to do.

Sir Harry. Well, but Dossy, don't you see how your mamma loves me; if n my finger does but ache, she's like a bewitched woman; and if I was to die, I don't believe she would outlive the burying of me: nay she has told me as much herself!

Theod. Her fondness indeed is very extraordinary. Sir Harry. Besides, could you give up the prospect of being a countess, and mistress of this fine place? Theod. Yes, truly could I.

AIR.

With the man that I love, was I destin'd to dwell
On a mountain, a moor, in a cot, in a cell,
Retreats, the most barren, most desert, would be
More pleasing than courts or a palace to me.

Let the vain and the venal, in wedlock aspire,
To what folly esteems, and the vulgar admire ;
I yield them the bliss, where their wishes are plac'd,
Insensible creatures! 'tis all they can taste.

Enter LADY SYCAMORE.

Lady S. Sir Harry, where are you?
Sir Harry. Here my lamb.

Lady S. I am just come from looking over his lordship's family trinkets.Well, Miss Sycamore, you are a happy creature, to have diamonds, equipage, title, all the blessings of life poured thus upon you at once!

Theod. Blessings, madam! Do you think then I am such a wretch as to place my felicity in the possession of any such trumpery?

Lady S. Upon my word, miss, you have a very disdainful manner of expressing yourself; I believe there are very few young women of fashion, who would thi

any sacrifice they could make, too much for them.— Did you ever hear the like of her, Sir Harry?

Sir Harry. Why, my dear, I have just been talking to her in the same strain, but whatever she has got in her head

Lady S. Oh, it is Mr. Mervin, her gentleman of Bucklersbury.-Fie, miss, marry a cit! Where is your pride, your vanity? have you nothing of the person of distinction about you?

Sir Harry. Well, but my lady, you know I am a piece of a cit myself, as I may say, for my great grandfather was a dry-salter.

Theod. And yet, madam, you condescended to marry my papa.

Lady S. Well, if I did, miss, I had but five thousand pounds to my portion; and Sir Harry knows I was past eight and thirty, before I would listen to

him.

Sir Harry. Nay, Dossy, that's true; your mamma own'd eight and thirty, before we were married: but, by the la, my dear, you were a lovely angel! and, by candle-light, nobody would have taken you for above five and twenty.

Lady S. Sir Harry, you remember the last time I was at my lord duke's?

Sir Harry. Yes, my love, it was the very day your little bitch, Minxey, pupp'd.

Lady S. And, pray, what did the whole family say; my Lord John, and my Lord Thomas, and my Lady Duchess in particular? Cousin, says her grace to me -for she always called me cousin

Theod. Well, but, madam, to cut this matter short at once, my father has a great regard for Mr. Mervin, and would consent to our union, with all his heart. Lady S. Do you say so, Sir Harry?

Sir Harry. Who I, love!

Lady S. Then all my care and prudence are come

to nothing!