me so much as to suppose I ever wanted a hint to pérform the great moral duty which conscience requires : however, I'll be my own patient in this case, and compose myself.

Charles. Suspicion is always an ingredient of a guilty mind.

Plaster. You speak learnedly upon the subject, young gentleman: it is, indeed, an ingredient, which always floats at top. However, I aver, and would, were it necessary, defend my assertion in the face of the whole College of Physicians, that your case was such, that it was impossible you could take a journey with any degree of safety. Ask Bob Bandage, who is as pretty a practitioner

Old Boncœur. I care little for the opinion of Bob Bandage, or yours either.

Plaster. I moreover aver, though I did not then know the reason, that my patient, here he stands-ah ! it was well I was called-in in time-most positively and pertinaciously refused the repeated offers of Mr. Montford, who urged him to accept of an apartment in his house.

Old Boncœur. What is all this to the purpose? What does this prove?

Plaster. It proves that, in your constitution, bile and bad humours predominate: I wish I had you under my care, I would soon endeavour to correct them.

Clara. It proves, that the system of avarice, perfidy, meanness, and fraud, which has been, alas! too apparent ever since my unfortunate marriage with your son, still continues to operate; and that you consequently endeavour to seek iny destruction.

Enter MONTFORD.

But protected by my uncle, whose presence inspires me with confidence, I set at defiance the efforts of your interested, your infamous malignity.

3

Montford.

Montford. From me, my dear Clara, you shall ever find protection and redress: convinced as much of your innocence, as I am of the villany of your husband and his father, you shall always find in me a parent and protector, and, in my cottage, a home.

Old Boncour. This is exactly as I expected; but it is not to any of you that I mean to apply: the laws of the country have been violated, the connubial rites have been invaded, by this young man; and to those laws the injured husband will resort for redress.

Charles. Monster!

Enter OUTCAST.

Outcast. I have, Mr. Boncœur, sought you in vain at your house. I am sorry to be the bearer of news equally important and melancholy.

Old Boncour. I am sorry, Sir, you have arrived to witness the degradation of my son.

Outcast. It is impossible, Sir, that he can be laid lower than he already is.-Let me speak to you in private.-(Takes him aside, and speaks.)

Old Boncœur. Dead! Is Henry dead?

Outcast. He is, Sir: he fell yesterday morning, in a duel with Lieutenant Caron, whose sister he had-

Old Boncœur. Hush!

Outcast. Oh! Sir, there was nothing dishonourable in the conduct of your son: they met --secondsHenry fired first, and the fortune of the field declared against him: he lived above an hour after he was taken home.

Old Boncoeur. Who takes care of his effects? There must be vast property.

Outcast. Immense.

Old Boncour. I'll go to town immediately.

Outcast. Do! All the bets upon Sir Robert Pigeon's match were decided in favour of Henry.

Old

Old Boncœur, Well, that is some comfort however. Outcast. So it is; besides, all his friends allow that your son made a fine end, and died possessed of the best heart in the world.

Old Boncœur, to Montford and the rest. It is not agreeable to me to say any thing that may give you. pleasure; yet, as I see that it may be necessary, I apprise you that my son is no more.

Montford. Dead! Is Henry Boncœur dead?
Charles. Dead!

Clara. Oh, Heavens !

.

Old Boncœur. Nay, begin not your exultation before I leave the place. You, Sir-(To CHARLES.)— have, perhaps, the most reason to rejoice. With respect to your settlement, Madam, I may have a further occasion to talk with you upon the subject.' Mr. Montford seems already to triumph.

[Exeunt Old BONCŒUR and OUTCAST.' Montford. Men of the world are too apt to judge of the feelings of others by the narrow prejudices that govern their own minds; if I have any occasion to rejoice at this event, it is only on the account of my

niece.

Clara. Who will, you may believe her, bear her. situation as she ought; that is, in a manner which may neither disgrace her own character, nor the memory of the man who certainly used her with more han necessary harshness.

Charles. For myself, lovely Clara, that not even the smallest shadow of obloquy may light upon your character, I here most solemnly promise to banish myself from the country, nor ever see you till your full time of mourning has expired. Whether we shall then meet

Montford. Must be left to Providence; who, in the punishment of the wicked, always has in view the rewarding of the innocent.

[Exeunt Omnes.

A RECKONING

A RECKONING WITH TIME.

BY GEORGE COLMAN THE YOUNGER.

COME

[From the Satirist.]

OME on, old Time!-nay, that is stuff;-
Gaffer! thou com'st on fast enough;
Wing'd foe to feather'd Cupid!

But tell me, Sandman! ere thy grains
Have multiplied upon my brains,
So thick to make me stupid--

Tell me, Death's Journeyman!—but no-;.
Hear thou my speech;-I will not grow
Irrev'rent while I try it;

For, though I mock thy flight, 't is said,
Thy forelock fills me with such dread,,
I never take thee by it.

List, then, old Is,-Was,and To-Be !
I'll state accounts 'twixt thee and me:-
Thou gav'st me, first, the measles ;
With teething wouldst have ta'en me off,
Then mad'st me, with the whooping-cough,
Thinner than fifty weasels.

Thou gav'st small-pox, (the dragon, now,
That Jenner combats on a cow ;)

And, then, some seeds of knowledge;
Grains of grammar, which the flails
Of pedants thrash upon our tails,
To fit us for a college.

And, when at Christ Church, 't was thy sport
To rack my brains with sloe-juice port,
And lectures out of number:-
There Fresh-man Folly quaffs, and sings,
While graduate Dulness clogs thy wings
With mathematic lumber.

Thy pinions, next, (which, while they wave,
Fan all our birthdays to the grave,)

I think, ere it was prudent,

c. 6

Balloon'd

Balloon'd me, from the schools, to town,
Where I was parachuted down,
A dapper Temple-student.

Then, much in dramas did I look ;
Much slighted thee, and great Lord Coke;
Congreve beat Blackstone hollow;
Shakspeare made all the statutes ståle,
And, in my crown, no pleas had Hale,
To supersede Apollo.

Ah, Time! those raging heats, I find,
Were the mere dog-star of my mind:
How cool is retrospection!
Youth's gaudy summer-solstice o'er,
Experience yields a mellow store;
An autumn of reflection!

Why did I let the god of song
Lure me from law, to join his throng,-
Gull'd by some slight applauses?
What's verse to A when versus B?
Or what John Bull, a comedy,

To pleading John Bull's causes ?

But, though my childhood felt disease,
Though my lank purse, unswoll'n by fees,
Some ragged muse has netted,—
Still, honest Chronos! 't is most true,
To thee,-(and, faith, to others too!)
I'm very much indebted :

For thou hast made me gaily tough,
Inur'd me to each day that's rough,
In hopes of calm to-morrow;
And when, old Mower of us all,
Beneath thy sweeping scythe I fall,
Some few dear friends will sorrow.

Then, though my idle prose or rhime
Should half an hour outlive me, Time,
Pray bid the stone-engravers,

Where'er my bones find churchyard room,
Simply to chisel on my tomb,

Thank Time for all his favours!"

ANSWER