Lord Town. Oh, by all means: we'll wait up pleasure, about town, there's my lord-Bite- Lady Grace. Right! and these are the fine gentlemen that never want elbow-room at an assembly. Mask. The rest, I suppose, by their tawdry hired habits, are tradesmen's wives, inns-of-court beaux, Jews, and kept mistresses. Lord Town. An admirable collection! Lady Grace. Well, of all our public diversions, I am amazed how this, that is so very expensive, and has so little to shew for it, can draw so much company together! Lord Town. Oh, if it were not expensive, the better sort would not come into it: and because money can purchase a ticket, the common people scorn to be kept out of it. Mask. Right, my lord. Poor lady Grace! I suppose you are under the same astonishment, that an opera should draw so much good com pany. Lady Grace. Not at all, madam: 'tis an easier matter, sure, to gratify the ear, than the understanding. But have you no notion, madam, of receiving pleasure and profit at the same time? Mask. Oh, quite none! unless it be sometimes winning a great stake; laying down a vole, sans prendre, may come up to the profitable pleasure you were speaking of. Lord Town. You seem attentive, my dear? [Apart. Lady Town. I am, my lord; and amazed at my own follies, so strongly painted in another [Apart. woman. Lady Grace. But see, my lord, we had best adjourn our debate, I believe; for here are some masks that seem to have a mind to divert other people as well as themselves. Lord Town. The least we can do, is to give them a clear stage then. [A dance of masks here in various characters. This was a favour extraordinary. Enter MANLY. Oh, Manly, I thought we had lost you. Man. I ask pardon, my lord; but I have been obliged to look a little after my country family. Lord Town. Well, pray, what have you done with them? Man. They are all in the house here, among the masks, my lord; if your lordship has curiosity enough to step into a lower apartment, in three minutes I'll give you an ample account of them. [The scene shuts upon the masks to a MANLY re-enters with SIR FRANCIS WRONG- Sir Fran. Well, cousin, you have made my very hair stond on end! Waunds! if what you tell me be true, I'll stuff my whole family into a stage-coach, and trundle them into the country again on Monday morning. Man. Stick to that, sir, and we may yet find a way to redeem all. In the mean time, place yourself behind this screen, and, for the truth of what I have told you, take the evidence of your own senses: but be sure you keep close till I give you the signal. Sir Fran. Sir, I'll warrant you-Ah, my lady! my lady Wronghead! What a bitter business have you drawn me into ! Man. Hush! to your post; here comes one couple already. [SIR FRANCIS retires behind the screen. Exit MANLY. Enter MYRTILLA with SQUIRE RICHARD. Squire Rich. What, is this the doctor's chamber? Myr. Yes, yes; speak softly. Squire Rich. Well, but where is he? Myr. He'll be ready for us presently; but he says, he can't do us the good turn without witnesses: so, when the count and your sister come, you know he and you may be fathers for one another. Squire Rich. Well, well; tit for tat! ay, ay, that will be friendly. Myr. And sec, here they come. Enter COUNT BASSET, and MISS JENNY. Count Bas. So, so, here's your brother and his bride, before us, my dear. Jenny. Well, I vow, my heart's at my mouth still! I thought I should never have got rid of mamma; but while she stood gaping upon the dance, I gave her the slip? Lawd, do but feel how it beats here! Count Bas. Oh, the pretty flutterer! I protest, my dear, you have put mine into the same palpitation! Jenny. Ay, say you so?- -but let's see nowOh, lud! I vow it thumps purely-well, well, I see it will do; and so, where's the parson? Count Bus. Mrs Myrtilla, will you be so good Count Bas. No doubt on't, my dear. when she meets me at an assembly; or you and I in our coach and six at Hyde Park together! Count Bas. Ay, or when she hears the boxkeepers at an opera, call out-The countess of Basset's servants! Jenny. Well, I say it, that will be delicious! And then, mayhap, to have a fine gentleman, with a star and a what-d'ye-call-um ribbon, lead me to my chair, with his hat under his arm all the way! Hold up, says the chairman; and so, says I, my lord, your humble servant. I suppose, madam, says he, we shall see you at my lady Quadrille's? Ay, ay, to be sure, my lord, says ISo in swops me, with my hoop stuffed up to my forehead; and away they trot, swing! swang! with my tassels dangling, and my flambeaux blazing, and Oh, it's a charming thing to be a woman of quality! Count Bas. Well! I see that, plainly, my dear, there's ne'er a duchess of them all will become an equipage like you. Jenny. Well, well, do you find equipage, and I'll find airs, I warrant you. SONG. What though they call me country lass, Oh, could I see the day! With a stand by-clear the way! Surrounded by a crowd of beaux, Oh, then for every new delight, Of love and joy I'd take my fill, With a stand by—clear the way! Squire Rich. Troth! I think this masquerading's the merriest game that ever I saw in my life! Thof' in my mind, an there were but a little wrestling, or cudgel-playing naw, it would help it hugely. But what a-rope makes the parson stay so? Count Bas. Oh, here he comes, I believe. Enter MYRTILLA, with a Constable. Con. Well, madam, pray which is the party that wants a spice of my office here? Myr. That's the gentleman. [Pointing to the Count. Count Bas. Hey-day! what, in masquerade, doctor? Con. Doctor! Sir, I believe you have mistaken your man: but, if you are called count Basset, I have a billet-doux in my hand for you, that will set you right presently. Count Bas. What the devil's the meaning of all this? Con. Only my lord chief justice's warrant against you for forgery, sir. Count Bas. Blood and thunder! Con. And so, sir, if you please to pull off your fool's frock there, I'll wait upon you to the next justice of peace immediately. Jenny. Oh, dear me, what's the matter? [Trembling. Count Bas. Oh, nothing, only a masquerading frolic, my dear. Squire Rich. Oh, ho! is that all? Sir Fran. No, sirrah! that is not all! [SIR FRANCIS, coming softly behind the squire, knocks him down with his cane. Enter MANLY. Squire Rich. Oh, lawd! Oh, lawd! he has beaten my brains out. Man. Hold, hold, sir Francis! have a little mercy upon my poor godson, pray, sir. Sir Fran. Wounds, cousin, I han't patience. Count Bas. Manly! nay, then, I'm blown to the devil. [Aside. Squire Rich. Oh, my head! my head! Enter LADY WRONGHEAD. Lady Wrong. What's the matter here, gentlemen? For Heaven's sake! What, are you murdering my children? Con. No, no, madam! no murder! only a little suspicion of felony, that's all. Sir Fran. [To JENNY.] And for you, Mrs Hotupon't, I could find in my heart to make you wear that habit as long as you live, you jade you. Do you know, hussy, that you were within two minutes of marrying a pickpocket? Count Bas. So, so, all's out I find. [Aside. Jenny. Oh, the mercy! why, pray, papa, is not the count a man of quality, then? Sir Fran. Oh, yes, one of the unhanged ones, it seems. Lady Wrong. [Aside.] Married! Oh, the confident thing! There was his urgent business, then-slighted for her! I han't patience!—and, for aught I know, I have been all this while making a friendship with a highwayman. Man. Mr Constable, secure there. Sir Fran. Ah, my lady! my lady! this comes of your journey to London: but now I'll have a frolic of my own, madam; therefore pack up your trumpery this very night; for, the moment my horses are able to crawl, you and your brats shall make a journey into the country again. Lady Wrong. Indeed, you are mistaken, sir Francis-I shall not stir out of town, yet, I promise you. Sir Fran. Not stir? Waunds, madam Man. Hold, sir! If you'll give me leave a little-I fancy I shall prevail with my lady to think better on't. Sir Fran. Ah, cousin, you are a friend, indeed! Man. [Apart to my lady.] Look you, madam, as to the favour you designed me, in sending this spurious letter inclosed to my lady Grace, all the revenge I have taken, is to have saved your son and daughter from ruin. Now, if you will take them fairly and quietly into the country again, I will save your ladyship from ruin. Lady Wrong. What do you mean, sir? Man. Why, sir Francis shall never know what is in this letter; look upon it. How it came into my hands, you shall know at leisure. Lady Wrong. Ha!-my billet-doux to the count! and an appointment in it! I shall sink with confusion! Man. What shall I say to sir Francis, madam? Lady Wrong. Dear sir, I am in such a trembling! preserve my honour, and I am all obedience. [Apart to MANLY. Man. Sir Francis- -my lady is ready to re`ceive your commands for her journey, whenever you please to appoint it. Sir Fran. Ah, cousin, I doubt I am obliged to you for it. Man. Come, come, sir Francis; take it as you find it. Obedience in a wife is a good thing, though it were never so wonderful! And now, sir, we have nothing to do but to dispose of this gentleman. Count Bas. Mr Manly! sir! I hope you won't ruin me! Man. Did you forge this note for five hundred pounds, sir? Count Bas. Sir-I see you know the world, and, therefore, I shall not pretend to prevaricate -But it has hurt nobody yet, sir; I beg you will not stigmatise me; since you have spoiled my fortune in one family, I hope you won't be so cruel to a young fellow, as to put it out of my power, sir, to make it in another, sir. Man. Look you, sir, I have not much time to waste with you: but, if you expect mercy yourself, you must shew it to one you have been cruel to. Count Bas. Cruel, sir! Man. Have you not ruined this young woman? Man. No words, sir; a wife, or a mittimus. Count Bas. Lord, sir! this is the most unmerciful mercy! Man. A private penance, or a public oneConstable. Count Bas. Hold, sir; since you are pleased to give me my choice, I will not make so ill a compliment to the lady, as not to give her the preference. Man. It must be done this minute, sir: the chaplain you expected is still within call. Count Bas. Well, sir,- -since it must be so- -Come, spouse-I am not the first of the fraternity, that has run his head into one noose, to keep it out of another. Myr. Come, sir, don't repine: marriage is, at worst, but playing upon the square. Count Bas. Ay, but the worst of the match, too, is the devil. Man. Well, sir, to let you see it is not so bad as you think it, as a reward for her honesty, in detecting your practices, instead of the forged bill you would have put upon her, there's a real one of five hundred pounds to begin a new honey moon with. [Gives it to MYRTILLA. Count Bas. Sir, this is so generous an actMan. No compliments, dear sir-I am not at leisure now to receive them. Mr Constable, will you be so good as to wait upon this gentleman into the next room, and give this lady in marriage to him? Con. Sir, I'll do it faithfully. Count Bas. Well, five hundred will serve to make a handsome push with, however. [Exeunt COUNT BASSET, MYRTILLA, and Constable. Sir Fran. And that I may be sure my family's rid of him for ever-come, my lady, let's even take our children along with us, and be all witnesses of the ceremony. [Exeunt SIR FRANCIS, LADY WRONGHEAD, MISS and SQUIRE.] Man. Now, my lord, you may enter. Enter LORD and LADY TOWNLY, and LADY GRACE. Lord Town. So, sir, I give you joy of your negociation. Man. You overheard it all, I presume? Lord Town. Never were knaves and fools better disposed of. Man. A sort of poetical justice, my lord, not much above the judgment of a modern comedy. Lord Town. To heighten that resemblance, I think, sister, there only wants your rewarding the hero of the fable, by naming the day of his happiness. Lady Grace. This day, to-morrow, every hour, I hope, of life to come, will shew I want not inclination to complete it. Man. Whatever I may want, madam, you will always find endeavours to deserve you. Lord Town. Then, all are happy. Lady Town. Sister, I give you joy consummate as the happiest pair can boast. In you, methinks, as in a glass, I see VOL. II. 4 R SCENE I.-RANGER's chambers in the Temple. A knocking is heard at the door for some time; when RANGER enters, having let himself in. Ran. Once more I am got safe to the Temple. Let me reflect a little. I have sat up all night I have my head full of bad wine, and the noise of oaths, dice, and the damned tinkling of tavern bells; my spirits jaded, and my eyes sunk in my head; and all this for the conversation of a company of fellows I despise. Their wit lies only in obscenity, their mirth in noise, and their delight in a box and dice. Honest Ranger, take my word for it, thou art a mighty silly fellow ! Enter a Servant, with a wig dressed. Where have you been, rascal? If I had not had the key in my pocket, I must have waited at the door in this dainty dress, |