had iny Lord Abberville the wealth of Glasgow, you'd fwallow it all down before you gee'd over.-Crom, crom.

La. feu. Vat is dat crom, crom? We do not know in France vat is dat crom, crom. But vat you fay to the dinner? Upon my vord, Monfieur the cook make as fine difpofitions for the table, as the Grand Condé did for the battle: ma foi, he merit to have his ftatue raised en crocan, in the center of his own performance.

Colin. Rais'd on a gibbet in the center of Hounslow Heath; that's what he merits.

La. Jeu. Ah, barbare! Here come my Lord.

LORD ABBERVILLE to COLIN.

[Exit.

L. Abb. Colin, fee that covers are laid for four-andtwenty, and fupper ferved at twelve in the great eatingparlour.

Colin. Ecod, my Lord, had you ken'd the mefs of cakes and fweeties that was honded up amongst 'em juft now, you wou'd na' think there cou'd be muckle need of supper this night.

L. Abb. What, fellow, would you have me ftarve my guests?

Colin. Troth, an you don't, they'll go nigh to ftarve

you.

L. Abb. Let me hear no more of this, Colin Macleod; I took you for my fervant, not for my adviser.

Colin. Right, my Lord, you did; but if by advifing I can serve you, where's the breach of duty in that? [Exit. L. Abb. What a Highland favage it is!-My father indeed made ufe of him to pay the fervant's wages, and poft the tradefmen's accounts; as I never do either, I wish fomebody else had him that docs.

MORTIMER enters, repeating to himself. Mort. "Is this a dinner, this a genial room? "This is a temple and a hecatomb.' L. Abb. What, quoting, Mortimer, and fatire too?I thought you need not go abroad for that.

Mort. rue; therefore, I'm returning home.-Good night to you.

L. Abb. What, on the wing fo foon! With so much company, can my philofopher want food to feaft his spleen upon?

Mort.

Mort. Food! I revolt against the name; no Bramin cou'd abominate your flefhly meal more than I do; why, Hirtius and Apicius would have blufh'd for it: Marc Antony, who roafted eight whole boars for fupper, never maffacred more at a meal than you have done.

L. Abb. A truce, good cynick: pr'ythee now get thee up ftairs, and take my place; the ladies will be glad of you at cards.

Mort. Me at cards! Me at a quadrille-table! Pent in with fuzzing dowagers, goffiping old maids, and yellow admirals; 'fdeath, my Lord Abberville, you must excufe

me.

L. Abb. Out on thee, unconformable being; thou art & traitor to fociety.

Mort. Do you call that fociety?

L. Abb. Yes; but not my fociety; none fuch as you defcribe will be found here; my circle, Mr. Mortimer, is form'd by people of the first fashion and fpirit in this country.

Mort, Fafhion and fpirit! Yes, their country's like to fuffer by their fathion more than 'twill ever profit by their fpirit.

L. Abb. Come, come, your temper is too four.

Mort. And your's too fweet: a mawkih lump of manna; fugar in the mouth, but phyfic to the bowels.

L. Abb. Mr. Mortimer, you was my father's executor; I did not know your office extended any further.

Mort. No; when I gave a clear eftate into your hands, I clear'd myfelt of an unwelcome office: I was, indeed, your father's executor; the gentlemen of fashion and spirit will be your lordship's.

L. Abb. Pooh! You've been black-bali'd at some paltry port drinking club; and fet up for a man of wit and ridicule.

Mort. Not I, believe me: your companions are too dull to laugh at, and too vicious to expole. -There ftands a fample of your choice.

L. Abb. Who, Doctor Druid? Where's the harm in him?

Mort Where is the merit?-What one quality does that old piece of pedantry poffels to fit him for the liberal office of travelling-preceptor to a man of rank? You know, my Lord, I recommended you a friend as fit to form your

manners

manners as your morals; but he was a reftraint; and, in his ftead, you took that Welchman, that buffoon, that antiquarian forfooth, who looks as if you had rak'd him out of the cinders of Mount Vefuvius.

L. Abb. And fo I did: but pr'ythee, Mortimer, don't run away; I long to have you meet.

Mort. You muft excufe me.

L. Abb. Nay, I must have you better friends.Come. hither, Doctor; hark'e

Mort. Another time: at prefent, I am in no humour to ftay the difcuffion of a cockle-fhell, or the diffection of a butterfly's wing. [Exit.

DOCTOR DRUID enters.

Dr. Druid. Putterflies! Putterflies in your teeth, Mr. Mortimer. What is the furly-poots prabbling about? Cot give her coot luck; will the man never leave off his flings and his fleers, and his fegaries; packpiting his petters?Coot, my Lord, let me call him back, and have a little tifputes and tifputations with him, d'ye fee. L. Abb. Hang him, tedious rogue, let him go.

Dr. Druid. Tedious! ay, in coot truth is he, as tedious as a Lapland winter, and as melancholy too; his crotchets and his humours damp all mirth and merriment, as a wet blanket does a fire: he is the very night-mare of fociety.

L. Abb. Nay, he talks well fometimes.

Dr. Druid. Ay, 'tis pig found and little wit; like a loud pell to a pad dinner.

L. Abb. Patience, good Doctor, patience! Another time you fhall have your revenge; at present you must lay down your wrath, and take up your attention.

Dr. Druid. I've done, my Lord, I've done: laugh at my putterflies indeed! If he was as pig and as pold as King Gryffyn, Doctor Druid wou'd make free to whisper an oord or two in his ear.

L. Abb. Peace, choleric King of the mountains, peace. Dr. Druid. I've done, my Lord; I fay, I've done. L. Abb. If you have done, let me begin. You must know then, I expect my city madam from Fish-Street Hill.

Dr. Druid. Ay, ay, the rich pig-pellied fellow's daughter, young Madam Pridgemore, my Lady Apperville, that is to be, plefs her, and fave her, and make her a coot wife, fay 1.

L. Abb. Pr'ythee, good Doctor, don't put a man in mind of his misfortunes: I tell you, fhe is coming here by appointment, with old Bridgemore and her mother; 'tis an execrable groupe; and, as I mean to make all things as eafy to me as I can, I'm going out to avoid being troubled with their impertinence.

Dr. Druid. Going out, my Lord, with your houfe full of company?

L. Abb. Oh, that's no objection; none in the leaft; fashion reconciles all thofe fcruples: to confult your own. eafe in all things is the very first article in the recipe for good breeding when every man looks after himself, no one can complain of neglect; but, as thefe maxims may not be orthodox on the eastern fide of Temple-Bar, you must ftand Gentleman Ufher in this fpot; put your best face upon the matter, and marthal my citizens into the affembly-room, with as much ceremony, as if they came up with an addre's from the whole company of Cordwainers.

Dr. Druid. Out on it, you've fome tevilifh oomans in the wind; for when the tice are rattling above, there's nothing but teath, or the tevil, cou'd keep you below.

L. Abb. You've guest it; fuch a divine, delicious little devil, lurks in my heart; Glendower himfclf cou'd not exercife her: I am poffefs'd; and from the hour I faw her by furprize, I have been plotting methods how to meet her; a lucky opening offers; the mine is laid, and Bridgemore's vifit is the fignal for fpringing it.

Dr. Druid. Pridgemore's! How fo?

L. Abb. Why, 'tis with him fhe lives; what elfe cou'd make it difficult, and what but difficulty coo'd make me pursue it? They prudently enough wou'd have conceal'd her from me; for who can think of any other, when Mifs Aubrey is in fight?-But hark! they're come; I muft efcape-Now, love and fortune ftand my friends!

[Exit.

Dr. Druid. Plefs us, what haftes and hurries he is in! and all for fome young huffey-Ah! he'll never have a proper relish for the venerable antique: I never fhall bring down his mercury to touch the proper freezing point, which that of a true virtuofo ought to ftand at: fometimes, indeed, he will contemplate a beautiful ftatue, as if it was a ooman; I never cou'd perfuade him to look upon a beautiful ooman, as if he was a statue.

BRIDGE

BRIDGEMORE, Mrs. BRIDGEMORE, and LUCINDA. Bridge. Doctor, I kiss your hands; I kiss your hands, good Doctor.-How thefe nobles live! Zooks, what a fwinging chamber!

Mrs. Bridge. Why, Mr. Bridgemore, fure you think yourself in Leather feller's-Hall.

Luc. Pray recollect yourself, Papa; indeed this is not Fish-Street Hill.

Bridge. I with it was; I'd foon unhouse this trumpery: I'd foon furnish it with better goods: why this profusion, child, will turn your brain.

Mrs. Bridge. Law, how you ftand and ftare at things; ftopping in the hall to count the fervants, gaping at the luftre there, as if you'd fwallow it.-I fuppofe our daughter, when she's a woman of quality, will behave as other women of quality do.-Lucinda, this is Doctor Druid, Lord Ab-berville's travelling tutor, a gentleman of very antient family in North Wales.

Luc. So it fhould feem, if he's the reprefentative of it.

Dr. Druid. Without flattery, Mrs. Bridgemore, Mifs has very much the behaviours of an ooman of quality already.

Mrs. Bridge, Come, Sir, we'll join the company, Lord Abberville will think us late.

but

Dr. Druid. Yes truly, he's impatient for our coming; you fball find him not at home.

Mrs. Bridge. How! Not at home?

Luc. A mighty proof of his impatience, truly.

Dr. Druid. Why, 'twas fome plaguy bufinefs took him but; but we'll difpatch it out of hand, and wait upon you quickly.

Bridge. Well, bufinefs, bufinefs must be done.

Mrs. Bridge. I thought my Lord had been a man of fashion, not of bufinefs.

Luc. And fo he is; a man of the firft fashion; you cannot have a fresher fample: the worst gallant in nature is your maccaroni; with the airs of a coquette you meet the manners of a clown: fear keeps him in fome awe before the men, but not one fpark of paffion has he at heart, to remind him of the ladies.

Mrs. Bridge. Well, we must make our curtfies above ftairs-Our card was from Lady Caroline: I fuppofe the is not from home, as well as her brother.