Enter Lorry, fpeaking to his Servant.

LOFTY.

"And if the Venetian ambaffador, or that teazing creature the marquis, fhould call, I'm not at home. Dam'me, I'll be pack-horse to none of them.” My dear madam, I have just snatched a moment— "And if the expreffes to his grace be ready, let them be fent off; they're of importance." Madam, I ask a thousand pardons.

Mrs. CROAKER.

Sir, this honour

LOFTY.

"And, Dubardieu! if the person calls about the commiffion, let him know that it is made out. As for lord Cumbercourt's ftale requeft, it can keep cold you underftand me." Madam, I ask ten thoufand pardons..

Mrs. CROAKER.

Sir, This honour

LOFTY.

"And, Dubardieu! if the man comes from the Cornish borough, you must do him; you must do him I fay." Madam, I ask ten thousand pardons. "And if the Ruffian-ambaffador calls: but he will fcarce call to-day, I believe." And now, madam, I have just got time to express my happiness in having the honour of being permitted to profefs myfelf your moft obedient humble fervant.

Mrs.

Mrs. CROAKER.

Sir, the happiness and honour are all mine; and yet, I'm only robbing the public while I detain

you.

LOFTY.

Sink the public, madam, when the fair are to be attended. Ah, could all my hours be fo charmingly devoted! Sincerely, don't you pity us poor creatures in affairs? Thus it is eternally; folicited for places here, teazed for penfions there, and courted every where. I know you pity me. Yes, I fee you

do.

Mrs. CROAKER.

Excufe me, Sir. "Toils of empires pleafures are,"

as Waller fays.

LOFTY.

Waller, Waller; is he of the houfe?

Mrs. CROAKER.

The modern poet of that name, Sir,

LOFTY.

Oh, a modern! We men of bufinefs defpife the moderns; and as for the ancients we have no time to read them. Poetry is a pretty thing enough for our wives and daughters; but not for us. Why now, here I ftand that know nothing of books. I fay, madam, I know nothing of books; and yet, I believe, upon a land carriage fishery, a ftamp act, or a jag-hire, I can talk my two hours without feeling the want of them.

Mrs. CROAKER.

The world is no stranger to Mr. Lofty's eminence in every capacity.

LOFTY.

I vow to gad, madam, you make me blush. I'm nothing, nothing, nothing in the world; a mere obfcure gentleman. To be fure, indeed, one or two of the prefent minifters are pleased to reprefent me as a formidable man. I know they are pleased to be-fpatter me at all their little dirty levees. Yet, upon my foul, I wonder what they fee in me to treat me fo! Measures, not men, have always been my mark; and I vow, by all that's honourable, my refentment has never done the men, as mere men, any manner of harm-that is as mere men. Mrs. CROAKER.

What importance, and yet what modefty!

LOFTY.

Oh, if you talk of modefty, madam! there I own, I'm acceffible to praise: modefty is my foible: it was fo, the duke of Brentford ufed to fay of me. "I love Jack Lofty, he used to fay :" no man has a finer knowledge of things; quite a man of information; and when he fpeaks upon his legs, by the Lord he's prodigious, he fcouts them; and yet all men have their faults; too much modefty is his, fays his grace.

Mrs.

Mrs. CROAKER.

And yet, I dare fay, you don't want affurance when you come to folicit for your friends.

LOFTY.

O, there indeed I'm in bronze. Apropos! I have just been mentioning Mifs Richland's cafe to a certain perfonage; we muft name no names. When I afk, I'm not to be put off, madam. No, no, I take my friend by the button. A fine girl, Sir; great juftice in her cafe. A friend of mine. Borough intereft, Bufinefs must be done, Mr. Secretary, I fay, Mr. Secretary, her bufinefs must be done, Sir, That's my way, madam.

Mrs. CROAKER.

Blefs me! you faid all this to the secretary of ftate, did you?

LOFTY.

It'

I did not fay the fecretary, did I? Well, curfe it, fince you have found me out I will not deny it. was to the fecretary.

Mrs. CROAKER.

This was going to the fountain head at once, not applying to the underftrappers, as Mr. Honeywood would have had us.

LOFTY.

Honeywood! he! he! He was, indeed, a fine folicitor. I fuppose you have heard what has just happened to him?

Mrs.

Mrs CROAKER.

Poor dear man; no accident, I hope.

LOFTY.

Undone, madam, that's all. His creditors have taken him into cuftody. A prifoner in his own houfe.

Mr. CROAKER.

A prifoner in his own houfe! How! At this very time! I'm quite unhappy for him.

LOFTY.

Why fo am I. The man, to be fure, was immenfely good-natur'd. But then I could never find that he had any thing in him.

Mrs. CROAKER.

His manner, to be fure, was exceffive harmlefs; fome, indeed, thought it a little dull. For my part, I always concealed my opinion.

LOFTY.

It can't be concealed, madam; the man was dull, dull as the last new comedy! a poor impracticable creature? I tried once or twice to know if he was fit for bufinefs; but he had fcarce talents to be groom-porter to an orange barrow.

Mrs. CROAKER.

How differently does Mifs Richland think of him! For, I believe, with all his faults, fhe loves him.

LOFTY.

Loves him! Does she? You should cure her of that by all means. Let me fee; what if he were fent