THE

BELLE'S STRATAGEM.

ACT I.

Scene I-Lincoln's Inn.

Enter SAVILLE, followed by a SERVANT, at the top of the stage, looking round, as if at a loss.

Sav. Lincoln's Inn !-Well, but where to find him, now I am in Lincoln's Inn?-Where did he say his master was?

Serv. He only said, in Lincoln's Inn, sir.

Sav. That's pretty!-And your wisdom never inquired, at whose chambers?

Serv. Sir, you spoke to the servant yourself.

Sav. If I was too impatient to ask questions, you ought to have taken directions, blockhead!

Enter COURTALL, singing.

Ha, Courtall!-Bid him keep the horses in motion, and then inquire at all the chambers round. [Exit SERVANT.] What the devil brings you to this part of the town?Have any of the long robes handsome wives, sisters, or chambermaids?

Court. Perhaps they have ;-but I came on a different errand; and had thy good fortune brought thee here half an hour sooner, I'd have given thee such a treat! Ha! ha! ha!

Sav. I'm sorry I missed it-What was it?

Court. I was informed, a few days since, that my cousins Fallow were come to town, and desired earnestly to see me at their lodgings, in Warwick Court, Holborn. Away drove I, painting them all the way as so many Hebes. They came from the furthest part of Northumberland, had never been in town, and in course, were made up of rusticity, innocence, and beauty. Sav. Well!

Court. After waiting thirty minutes, during which there was a violent bustle, in bounced five sallow damsels, four of them maypoles ;-the fifth, nature, by way of variety, had bent in the Æsop style-But they all opened at once, like hounds on a fresh scent-" Oh, cousin Courtall!-How do you do, cousin Courtall?— Lord, cousin, I am glad you are come! We want you to go with us to the Park, and the plays, and the opera, and Almack's, and all the fine places!"The devil, thought I, my dears, may attend you, for I am sure I won't. However, I heroically staid an hour with them, and discovered the virgins were all come to town, with the hopes of leaving it-wives :-their heads full of knight-baronights, fops, and adventures.

Sav. Well, how did you get off?

Court. Oh, pleaded a million engagements.-However, conscience twitched me, so I breakfasted with them this morning, and afterwards 'squired them to the gardens here, as the most private place in town; and then took a sorrowful leave, complaining of my hard, hard fortune, that obliged me to set off immediately for Dorsetshire-Ha! ha! ha!

Sav. I congratulate your escape-Courtall at Al-. mack's, with five awkward country cousins!-Ha! ha! ha!-Why, your existence, as a man of gallantry, could never have survived it.

Court. Death and fire! had they come to town like the rustics of the last age, to see Paul's, the lions, and

the waxwork-at their service; but the cousins of our days, come up ladies-and, with the knowledge they glean from magazines and pocket-books, fine ladies ;laugh at the bashfulness of their grandmothers, and boldly demand their entrées into the first circles. Sav. Come, give me some news.

Court. Oh, enough for three gazettes!―The ladies are going to petition for a bill, that, during the war, every man may be allowed two wives.

Sav. 'Tis impossible they should succeed, for the majority of both houses know what it is to have one.

Court. But, pr'ythee, Saville, how came you to town, whilst all the qualified gentry are shooting in the country?

Sav. I came to meet my friend Doricourt, who, you know, is lately arrived from Rome.

Court. Arrived! yes, 'faith, and has cut us all out! -His carriage, his liveries, his dress, himself, are the rage of the day! His first appearance set the whole ton in a ferment, and his valet is besieged by levées of tailors, habit-makers, and other ministers of fashion, to gratify the impatience of their customers, for becoming à la mode de Doricourt-Nay, the beautiful Lady Frolic, t'other night, with two sister countesses, insisted upon his waistcoat for muffs; and their snowy arms now bear it in triumph about town, to the heart-rending affliction of all our beaux garçons !

Sav. Indeed! Well, those little gallantries will soon be over-he's on the point of marriage.

Court. Marriage! Doricourt on the point of marriage! 'tis the happiest tidings you could have given, next to his being hanged.-Who is the bride elect?

Sav. I never saw her; but 'tis Miss Hardy, the rich heiress-The match was made by the parents, and the courtship began on their nurse's knees; master used to crow at miss, and miss used to chuckle at master.