A& IV. it. At last his disappointment grew so uneasy, that he fairly fell a crying; so to quiet him, I sent one of the maids and John Moody abroad with him to shew him-the lions, and the monument. Ods me there he is just come home again-You may have business with him—so I'll even turn you together. [Exit.

Enter 'Squire RICHARD.

'Squ. Rich. Soah, soah, Mrs. Myrtilla, where han yaw been aw this day, forsooth?

Myr. Nay, if you go to that, 'squire, where have you been, pray ?

'Squ. Rich. Why, when I fun' at yow were no loikly to come whoam, I were ready to hong my sel -so John Moody, and I, and one o' your lasses, -a seeing o' the

have been--Lord knows where

soights.

Myr. Well, and pray what have you seen, sir? 'Squ. Rich. Flesh! I cawnt tell, not I—seen every thing, I think. First, there we went o' top o' the what d'ye call it? there, the great huge stone post, up the rawnd and rawnd stairs, that twine and twine about just an as thof it was a cork-screw.

Myr. Oh, the monument; well, and was it not a fine sight from the top of it?

'Squ. Rich. Sight, miss! I know no’-I saw nought but smoak and brick housen, and steeple topsthen there was such a mortal ting-tang of beils, and rumbling of carts and coaches, and then the folks un

2

der one looked so small, and made such a hum, and a buz, it put me in mind of my mother's great glass bee-hive in our garden in the country.

Myr. I think, master, you give a very good account of it.

'Squ. Rich. Ay, but I did not like it: for my head -my head-began to turn-so I trundled me down stairs agen like a round trencher.

Myr. Well, but this was not all you saw, I suppose? 'Squ. Rich. Noa, noa, we went after that, and saw the lions, and I liked them better by hawlf; they are pure grim devils; hoh, hoh! I touke a stick, and gave one of them such a poke o' the noase-I believe he would ha' snapt my head off, an he could have got Hoh! hoh! hoh!

me.

Myr. Well, master, when you and I go abroad, I'll shew you prettier sights than these there's a masquerade to-morrow.

'Squ. Rich. Oh, laud, ay! they say that's a pure thing for Merry Andrews, and those sort of comical mummers-and the count tells me, that there lads and lasses may jig their tails, and eat, and drink, without grudging, all night lung.

Myr. What would you say now, if I should get you a ticket, and go along with you?

'Squ. Rick. Ah, dear!

Myr. But have a care, 'squire, the fine ladies there are terribly tempting; look well to your heart, or, ads mel they'll whip it up in the trip of a minute.

'Squ. Rich. Ay, but they cawnt thoa-soa let 'um look to themselves, an' ony of 'um falls in love with me-mayhap they had as good be quiet.

Myr. Why sure you would not refuse a fine lady, would you?

'Squ. Rich. Ay, but I would though, unless it were -one as I know of.

Myr. Oh, oh, then you have left your heart in the country, I find?

'Squ. Rich. Noa, noa, my heart-eh-my heart e'nt awt o' this room.

Myr. I am glad you have it about you, however. 'Squ. Rich. Nay, mayhap not soa noather, somebody else may have it, 'at you little think of.

Myr. I cann't imagine what you mean! 'Squ. Rich. Noa! why doan't

folks there is in this room, naw?

you

know how many

Myr. Very fine, master, I see you have learnt the town gallantry already.

'Squ. Rich. Why doan't you believe 'at I have a kindness for you then?

Myr. Fy, fy, master, how you talk; beside, you are too young to think of a wife.

'Squ. Rich. Ay! but I caunt help thinking o' yow, for all that.

Myr. How! why sure, sir, you don't pretend to think of me in a dishonourable way?

'Squ. Rich. Nay, that's as you see good-I did no❜ think 'at you would ha' thowght of me for a husband,

mayhap; unless I had means, in my own hands ; and feyther allows me but haulf a crown a week, as yet awhile.

Myr. Oh, when I like any body, 'tis not want of money will make me refuse them.

'Squ. Rich. Well, that's just my mind now; for an I like a girl, miss, I would take her in her smock. Myr. Ay, master, now you speak like a man of honour; this shews something of a true heart in you. 'Squ. Rich. Ay, and a true heart you'll find me; try when you will.

Myr. Hush, hush, here's your papa come home, and my aunt with him.

'Squ. Rich. A devil rive 'em, what do they come naw for?

Myr. When you and I get to the masquerade, you shall see what I'll say to you.

'Squ. Rich. Well, hands upon't, then

Myr. There

'Squ. Rich. One buss, and a bargain. [Kisses her.] Ads wauntlikins! as soft and plump as a marrowpudding. [Exeunt severally.

Enter Sir FRANCIS WRONGHEAD and Mrs.

MOTHERLY.

Sir Fran. What! my wife and daughter abroad, say you?

Moth. Oh, dear sir, they have been mighty busy all the day long; they just came home to snap up a short dinner, and so went out again.

Sir Fran. Well, well, I sha'n't stay supper for 'em, I can tell 'em that: for ods-heart, I have nothing in me, but a toast and tankard, since morning.

Moth. I am afraid, sir, these late parliament hours with you.

won't agree

Sir Fran. Why, truly, Mrs. Motherly, they don't do right with us country gentlemen; to lose one meal out of three, is a hard tax upon a good stomach. Moth. It is so indeed, sir.

Sir Fran. But howsomever, Mrs. Motherly, when we consider, that what we suffer is for the good of our country.

Moth. Why truly, sir, that is something.

Sir Fran. Oh, there's a great deal to be said for't -the good of one's country is above all thingsA true-hearted Englishman thinks nothing too much for it—I have heard of some honest gentlemen so very zealous, that for the good of their country— they would sometimes go to dinner at midnight.

Moth. Oh, that goodness of 'em! sure their country must have a vast esteem for them?

Sir Fran. So they have, Mrs. Motherly; they are so respected when they come home to their boroughs after a session, and so beloved that their country will come and dine with them every day in the week. Moth. Dear me! What a fine thing 'tis to be so populous!

Sir Fran. It is a great comfort, indeed! and, I can assure you, you are a good sensible woman, Mrs. Motherly.