or actions. I am equally at a loss to guess as to Bridget here.

Vane. Eh, what? Bridget, did you say, sir? Why, you little ugly witch, are you really Bridget? Brid. Why I told you so all along; but you All. Ha, ha, ha! [wouldn't believe me. Brid. Oh, dear heart! I am now as much afeard of my new husband as father.

Lord G. For thee, wench!

Brid. (Kneels.) Oh! no more locking up, for goodness sake, my lord; I be sick enough of passing for a lady; but, if old Scratch ever puts such a trick again in my head, I hope-your lordship will catch me, that's all. [Exit. Vane. I shall run distracted! have I married an -and all for nothing too?

Lord G. A punishment peculiarly just, as it results from abusing my confidence. Hence, wretch! nor ever, while you live, appear again in my presence. [Exit Vane, looking furiously after Bridget. Lord G. 'Tis time to return to ourselves. We shall soon come to an éclaircissement, Woodville! since you won't marry, I will.

Wood. My lord!

Re-enter GOVERNOR HARCOURT. Grey. Rise, my glorious girl! rise purified and forgiven! rise to pity with me the weak minds that know not all thy value, and venerate the noble ones that do.

Gov. H. Eh! is it possible? Grey, is this myGrey. Yes, sir, this is your Cecilia; my Cecilia; the object of your avowed rejection and contempt.

Gov. H. Rejection and contempt! stand out of the way: let me embrace my daughter; let me take her once more to my heart. (Embraces her.) Lord G. His daughter!

Gov. H. Yes, my friend, this is really my daugh ter; my own Cecilia; as sure as I am an old fool after being a young one, this good girl has a right to call me by the name of father: hasn't she, Grey? Why, my lord, this is the very parson I told you of. (Takes Cecilia's hand.) And now, young sir, what do you say to your uncle's freaks? (ToWood.) Wood. Say, sir? that had you ten thousand such, would go through a patriarchal servitude, is hopes of Cecilia's hand for my reward.

I

Gov. H. And had I ten millions of money, and this only girl, thou shouldst have her, and that too for thy noble freedom! And what says my Cecilia to her father's first gift?

Cecil. Astonishment and pleasure leave me hardly power to say, that a disobedience to you, sir, would only double my fault; nor to worship that heaven which led me through such a trial to such a reward! Take all I have left myself to give you, Woodville, in my hand. (Woodville kisses her.)

Lord G. How?

Cecil. Yes, my lord; you now know the unhappy object at once of your resentment, contempt, and admiration. My own misfortunes I had learned to bear, but those of Woodville overpower me. I deliver myself up to your justice; content to be every way his victim, so I am not his ruin.

Lord G. But to find you in this houseCecil. Your generous nephew and the amiable Miss Mortimer distinguished me with the only asylum could shelter me from your son.

Lord G. They distinguished themselves! Oh, Woodville! did I think an hour ago I could be more angry with you? How durst you warp a mind so noble?

Wood. It is a crime my life cannot expiate; yet, if the sincerest anguish

Lord G. I have one act of justice still in my power my prejudice in favour of birth, and even a stronger prejudice, is corrected by this lovely girl. Of her goodness of heart, and greatness of mind, I have had incontestible proofs; and, if I thought you, Frank

Cecil. Yet stay, my lord! nor kill me with too much kindness. Once your generosity might have made me happy, now only miserable. My reason, my pride, nay, even my love, induces me to refuse, as the only way to prove I deserve him. He has taught me to know the world too late; nor will I retort on him the contempt I have incurred. Mr. Woodville will tell you whether I have not solemnly vowed

Wood. Not to accept me without the consent of both fathers and if mine consents, what doubtGov. H. (Without.) Stop that old man! Stop that mad parson! Stop him!

Grey. Now let me die, my darling child! since I have seen thee once more innocent and happy. Gov. H. And now kiss me, my Cecilia! kiss 'Od! Miss Mortimer shall kiss me too, for

me.

old and young, men, women, and children! 'Od, I am so overjoyed, I dread the consequences.D'ye hear there? Fetch me a surgeon and a bottle of wine. I must both empty and fill my veins on this occasion! Zooks, I could find in my heart to frisk it merrily in defiance of the gout, and take that cursed vixen below, whoever she is, for my partner.

Lord G. Methinks, all seem rewarded by my poor Sophia here; and her protection of Cecili deserves the highest recompense.-But whenever, my dear, you can present me the husband of your choice, I will present him with a fortune fit for my daughter.

Gov. H. Protect Cecilia! 'Od! she is a good girl, and a charming girl, and I honour the very tip of her feathers now! If she could but fancy our Charles, I'd throw in something pretty on his side, I promise you.

Miss M. Frankness is the fashion. What would you say, sir, and you, my lord, if I had fancied your Charles so much as to make him mine already! Lord G. Heyday! more discoveries! How's this, boy?

Capt. H. Even so, sir, indeed.

Lord G. It completes my satisfaction.

Gov. H. 'Od, brother! Who'd have thought you in the right all the while? We'll never separate again, by the lord Harry! but knock down our Welsh friend's old house, and raise him one on the ruins large enough to contain the whole family of us, where he shall reign sole sovereiga over all our future little Woodvilles and Cecilias.

Cecil. Oppressed with wonder, pleasure, grati tude, I must endeavour to forgive myself, when heaven thus graciously proves its forgiveness, in allying me to every human being my heart distin

Enter GREY.

Ha! she is she is here, indeed! Providence has at length directed me to her. (Runs to Cecilia.) Cecil. My father! covered with shame let me sink before you.

Lord G. and Capt. H. Her father!

Grey. Yes, my Cecilia, you may believe him. who never gave you a bad lesson, that you are now most truly entitled to esteem; since it requires far greater exertion to stop your course down the hill of vice, than to toil slowly up toward virtue. [Exeunt

ACT I.

SCENE I-A Drawing-room.

Enter MRS. JOHNSON, crossing the stage, a Boy following.

Mrs. J. Here, Betty, Dick! where are ye? Don't you see my Lord Sparkle's carriage? I shall have my lodgers disturbed with their thundering. What, in the name of wonder, can bring him bere at this time in the morning? Here he comes, looking like a rake as he is.

Enter LORD SPARKLE, yawning.

Lord S. Bid 'em turn; I sha'n't stay a moment. So, Mrs. Johnson, I pulled the string just to see how your sylvans go on.

Mrs. J. As usual, my lord: but, bless me! how early your lordship is.

Lord S. How late, you mean. I have not been in bed since yesterday at one. I am going home now to rest for an hour or two, and then to the drawing-room. But what are the two rustics about? I have not been plagued with them these three or four days.

Mrs.J. They are now out.

Lord S. I supposed that, or I should not have called. But, prythee, do they talk of returning to their native woods again?.

Mrs. J. Oh no, sir! the young gentleman seems to have very different ideas: miss too has great spirits, though she seems, now and then, at a loss what to do with herself,

Lord S. Do with herself! Why don't you persuade her to go back to Cornwall? You should tell 'em what a vile place London is, full of snares, and debaucheries, and witchcrafts. You don't preach to 'em, Johnson.

Mrs. J. Indeed I do, my lord.; and their constant answer is, "Oh! Lord Sparkle is our friend. Lord Sparkle would take it amiss if we should go; 'twould look like distrusting his lordship."

Two

Lord S. Was ever man so hampered? fools! to mistake common forms and civilities for attachments.

Mrs. J. I fear, my lord, towards the young lady something more than forms

Lord S. Never, upon my honour! I kissed her; so I did all the women in the parish; the septennial ceremony. The brother I used to drink vile port with, listen to his village stories, call his vulgarity wit, and his impudence spirit; was not that fatigue and mortification enough, but I must be bored with 'em here in town?

Mrs. J. But miss, sir, talks of pressing invitations and letters, and

Lord S. Things of course; they had influence, and got me the borough: I, in return, said she was the most charming girl in the world; that I adored her; and some few things that every body says on such occasions, and nobody thinks of.

Mrs. J. But it appears that miss did thinkLord S. Yes, faith; and on my writing a civil note that I should be happy to see them in town, et cætera, they took me at my word; and before I

thought the letter had reached 'em, they were in my house, all joy and congratulation, I didn't choose to be encumbered with 'em, so placed 'em with you. The boy was at first amusing; but our circles have had him, and I must be rid of him.

Mrs. J. I must say, I wish I were quit of them at present; for my constant lodger, Mr. Belville, came to town last night, and he wants this drawingroom to himself; he's obliged to share it now with Mr. Pendragon and his sister.

Lord S. Eh! Belville? 'Gad, that's lucky! there is not a fellow in town better received by the Throw the girl in his way, and get quit

women.

of her at once.

Mrs. J. If you mean dishonestly, my lord, you have mistaken your person: I did not live so many years with your mother to be capable of such a thing. Ah! my lord, if my lady were living

Lord S. She would scold to little purpose; and you may spare yourself the trouble. I tell you care nothing about the girl; I merely want to get rid of her, and you must assist me. (Mrs. Johnson turns from him with disgust.) Heyday! the nicety of your ladyship's honour is piqued! Ha, ha, ha! the mistress of a lodging-bouse! Bien drole; ha, ha, ha! [Exit Mrs. Johnson.] But who is this hobbling up stairs? Ha! old Cato the censor, my honourable cousin! What the devil shall I do? No avoiding him, however.

Enter FITZHerbert,

I wish I had been out of the house, Fitzherbert, before you appeared; I know I shall not escape without some abuse.

Fitz. I never throw away reproof, where there are no hopes of amendment-your lordship is safe. Lord S. Am I to take that for wit? Fitz. No; for then I fear you would not under

stand it.

Lord S. I want you to teach me some of that happy ease which you possess in your rudeness; 'twould be to me an acquisition. I am eternally getting into the most horrid scrapes, merely by politeness and good breeding. Here are two persons now in this house, for instance

Fitz. Who do not know that the language of what you call politeness, differs from that of truth and honour. You see I know those to whom you allude. But we only lose time. Good day, my lord.

Lord S. Lose time! ha, ha, ha! Why, of what value can time be to you? the greatest enemy you have; adding every day to your wrinkles and illhumour. I'll prove to you now, that I have employed the last twelve hours to better purpose than you have. Nine of them you slept away; the last three you have been running about town, snarling, and making people uneasy with themselves; whilst I have been sitting peaceably at Weltjie's, where I have won-guess what?

Fitz. Half as much as you lost yesterday; a thousand or two guineas, perhaps.

Lord S. Guineas! Pho, you are jesting! Guineas are as scarce with us as in the coffers of the congress. Like them we stake with counters, and play for solid earth.

Fitz. Well! (Impatiently.)

Lord S. Bullion is a mercantile kind of wealth, passing through the hands of dry-salters, vinegarmerchants, and lord-mayors. Our goddess holds a cornucopia instead of a purse, from which she pours corn-fields, fruitful valleys, and rich herds. This morning she popped into my dice-box a snug villa, five hundred acres, arable and pasture, with the next presentation to the living of Guzzleton.

Fitz. A church-living in a dice-box! Well, well, I suppose it will be bestowed as worthily as

it was gained! Good day, my ford, good day! (Turns from him.)

Lord S. Good night, Crabtree, good night!

Enter a Servant.

Tell Belville I called to congratulate his escape from the stupid country. (Going.) Fitz. My lord!

Lord S. Sir!

Fitz. I am going this morning to visit Lady Bell Bloomer. I give you this intimation, that we may not risk another rencontre.

Lord S. Civilly designed; and for the same polite reason I inform you, that I shall be there in the evening. [Exit.

Fitz. Your master in bed yet; what time was he in town yesterday?

Serv. Late, sir. We should have been earlier, but we met with Sir Harry Hairbrain on the road, with his new fox-hounds; fell in with the hunt a Bagshot, broke cover, run the first burst acros the heath towards Datchet; she then took right an end for Egham, sunk the wind upon us as far as Staines, where Reynard took the road to Oxford, and we the route to town, sir. (Bows.)

Fitz. Very geographical, indeed, sir. Now, pray inform your master-Oh, here we come!

Enter BELVILLE, in a robe de chambre. Just risen from your pillow! Are you not ashamed of this? A fox-hunter, and in bed at eleven!

Bel. My dear, morose, charming, quarrelsome, old friend, I am ever in character! In the country, I defy fatigue and hardship. Up before the lazy slut, Aurora, has put on her pink-coloured gown to captivate the plough-boys; scamper over hedge and ditch; dead with hunger, alight at a cottage, drink milk from the hands of a brown wench, and eat from a wooden platter. In town, I am a fine gentleman; have my clothes au dernier goût; dine on made dishes; drink burgundy; and, in a word, am everywhere the ton.

Fitz. So much the worse, so much the worse, young man! to be the ton where vice and folly are the ruling deities, prove that you must be sometimes a fool, at others a

Bel. Psha! you satirists, like moles, shut your eyes to the light, and grope about for the dark side of the human character: there is a great deal of good sense and good meaning in the world. As for its follies, I think folly a mighty pleasant thing; at least to play the fool gracefully, requires more ta lents than would set up a dozen cynics.

Fitz. Then half the people I know must have wonderful talents, for they have been playing the fool from sixteen to sixty. Apropos! I found my precious kinsman, Lord Sparkle, here.

Bel. Ay, there's an instance of the happy effects of total indifference to the sage maxims you recommend.

Fitz. Happy effects do you call them?

Bel. Most triumphant! Who so much admired? Who so much the fashion? The general favourite of the ladies, and the common object of imitation with the men! Is not Lord Sparkle the happy Lady Bell Bloomer, from so many rivals? And man who is to carry the rich and charming widow, will not you, after quarrelling with him half your life, leave him a fine estate at the end of it?

Fitz. No, no!-I tell you, no! (With warmth.) Bel. Nay, his success with the widow is certain He boasts his triumph everywhere; and as she is such a favourite of your's, everything else will

follow.

Fitz. No; for if she marries Sparkle, she will be no longer a favourite; yet she receives him with

Serv. Mr. Beauchamp. [Exit. Fitz. Oh! I expected him to call on you this morning. You must obtain his confidence; it will assist me in my designs. When I found myself disappointed in my hopes of his lordship, I selected Beauchamp from the younger branches of my family; but of this he knows nothing, and thinks himself under high obligations to the patronage of the peer; an error in which I wish him to continue, as it will give me an opportunity of proving them both. But here he comes! This way I can avoid him. [Exit.

Enter BEAUCHAMP.

Bel. Beauchamp! and in regimentals!-Why, pr'ythee, George, what spirit has seized thee now? When I saw thee last, thou wert devoted to the grave profession of the law, or the church; and I expected to have seen thee enveloped in a wig, wrangling at the bar; or seated in a fat benefice, receiving tythe-pigs and poultry.

Beau. Those, Belville, were my school designs; but the fire of youth gave me ardours of a different sort. The heroes of the Areopagus and the forum have yielded to those of Marathon, and I feel that whilst my country is struggling amidst surrounding foes, I ought not to devote a life to learned indolence, that might be gloriously hazarded in her defence.

Bel. I dare swear this heroic spirit springs from the whim of some fine lady, who fancied you would be a smarter fellow in a cockade and gorget, than in a stiff band and periwig.

Beau. If your insinuation means that my heart has not been insensible of the charms of some fair lady, you are right; but my transformation is owing to no whim of her's; for oh! Charles, she never yet condescended to make me the object of her thoughts.

Bel. Modest too! Ay, you were right to give up the law. But who, pray, may this exalted fair one be who never condescended?

Beau. I never suffer my lips to wanton with the charming sounds that form her name. The lady has beauty, wit, and spirit; but, above all, a mind. Is it possible, Charles, to love a woman without a mind?

Bel. Has she a mind for you? that is the most important question.

Beau. I dare not feed my passion with so presumptuous a hope; yet I would not extinguish it if I could; for it is not a love that tempts me into corners to wear out my days in complaints; it prompts me to use them for the most important purposes: the ardours it gives me shall be felt in the land of our enemies; they shall know how well I love.

Bel. Pho! pho! this is the gallantry of one thousand one hundred and one; the kind of passion that animated our fathers in the fields of Cressy and Poictiers. Why, no beauty of our age, man, will be won in this style.-Now, suppose yourself at the opera. (Looks through his hand.) 'Gad, that's a fine girl!-Twenty thousand, you say? I think I'll have her.-Yes, she'll do. I-I must have her. I'll call on her to-morrow, and tell her so. Have you spirit and courage enongh for that, my Achilles?

Beau. No, truly.

Bel. Then give up all thoughts of being received. Beau. I have no thoughts of hazarding a reception. The pride of birth, and a few hundreds for my education, were the sole patrimony the imprudence of a father left me. My relation, Lord Sparkle, has procured for me a commission. Ge

nerously to offer that, and a knapsack to a lady of five thousand a year, would be properly answered by a contemptuous dismission.

Bel. But suppose she should take a fancy to` your knapsack

Beau. That would reduce me to the necessity of

depriving myself of a happiness I would die to obtain; for never can I submit to be quartered on a sistence for myself. wife's fortune, whilst I have a sword to carve sub

Bel. That may be in the great style, but 'tis scarcely in the polite. Will you take chocolate in my dressing-room?

Beau. No, I am going to take orders at my colonel's. Where shall we meet in the evening?

Bel. Faith, 'tis impossible to tell. I commit myself to chance for the remainder of the day, and shall finish it as she directs. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.-An Apartment at Clarinda's. Enter CLARINDA, reading a catalogue, followed by TIFFANY.

Cla. Poor Lady Squander! So Christie has her jewels and furniture at last!-I must go to the sale. Mark that Dresden service, and the pearls. (Gives the catalogue to Tiffany.) It must be a great comfort to her to see her jewels worn by her friends. Who were here last night? (Sits down, and takes some cards from the table.) I came home so late, I forgot to inquire. Mrs. Jessamy-Lady RacketMiss Belvoir-Lord Sparkle-(Starts up.)--Lord Sparkle here! Oh, heavens and earth! what possessed me to go to Lady Price's? I wish she, and her concert of three fiddles and a flute, had been playing to her kids on the Welsh mountains!— Why did you persuade me to go out last night?

Tif. Dear ma'am, you seemed so low-spirited, that I thought

Cla. I missed him everywhere! At four places he was just gone as I came in. But what does it signify 'Twas Lady Bell Bloomer he was seeking, I dare swear: his attachment to the relict is everywhere the subject. Hang those widows! I really believe there's something cabalistical in their names. No less than fourteen fine young fellows of fortune have been drawn into the matrimonial noose by them since last February. 'Tis well they were threatened with imprisonment, or we should not have had an unmarried infant above seventeen, between Charing-cross and Portman-square.

Tif. Well, I am sure I wish Lady Bell was married; she's always putting you out of temper.

Cla. Have I not cause! Till she broke upon the town, I was at the top of fashion; you know I was. My dress, my equipage, my furniture, and myself, were the criterions of taste; but a new French chambermaid enabled her ladyship, at one stroke, to turn the tide against me.

Tif. Ay, I don't know what good these mademoiselles

Cla. But, Tiffany, she is to be at court to-day, out of mourning for the first time. I am resolved to be there. No, I won't go neither, now I think on't; if she should really outshine me, her triumph will be increased by my being witness to it. "I won't go to St. James's; but I'll go to her rout this evening; and, if 'tis possible, prevent Lord Sparkle's being particular to her. Perhaps that will put her in an ill-humour, and then the advantage will be on my side.

[Exit.

Tif. Mercy on us! To be a chambermaid to a miss on the brink of thirty, requires as good politics as being prime minister! Now, if she should not rise from her toilette quite in looks to-day, or if the desertion of a lover or the victory of a rival should happen, ten to one but I shall be forced to resign, without even a pension to retire on. [Exit.

ACT II.

SCENE I.-An elegant Apartment at Lady Bell Bloomer's.

Enter JULIA, with papers in her hand. Julia. What an invaluable treasure! Those dear papers, that have lain within the frigid walls of a convent, insensible and uninteresting to every one around them, contain for me a world of happiness. He is in England! How little he suspects that I too am here!

Enter KITTY.

Kitty. Mr. Fitzherbert will be here immediately,

madam.

Julia. Mr. Fitzherbert? Very well. Has Lady Bell finished dressing yet?

Kitty. (Speaks extremely fast.) No, ma'am. Mr. Crape, the hair-dresser, has been with her these three hours, and her maid is running here and there, and Mr. John flying about to milliners and perfumers, and the new vis-a-vis at the door to carry her ladyship to court.-Everything black banished, and the liveries come home shining with silver; and the moment she's gone out, everybody will be in such a delightful hurry about the rout that her ladyship is to give this evening, that they say all the world

Julia. Ha, ha, ha! Pr'ythee, stop. I can't wonder if Lady Bell should be transported at dropping her weeds, for it seems to have turned the heads of the whole family.

Kitty. Oh dearee, ma'am, to be sure; for now we shall be so gay! Lady Bell has such fine spirits! -And 'tis well she has; for the servants tell me, their old master would have broke his heart else. They all adore her. I wish you were a little gayer, ma'am. Somehow we are so dull. "Tis a wonder so young and so pretty a lady

Julia. Don't run into impertinence. I have neither the taste nor talents for public life that Lady Bell Bloomer has.

Kitty. Laws, ma'am, 'tis all use! You are always at home; but Lady Bell knows that wit and a fine person are not given for a fire-side at home. (Drawls.) She shines every evening in half the houses of half-a-dozen parishes; and the next morning we have stanzas in the Bevy of Beauties, and sonnets, and billet-doux, and all the fine things

that fine ladies are so fond of.

Julia. I can bear your freedoms no longer. Carry these flowers, with my compliments, and tell her ladyship I sent to Richmond for them, as I know her fondness for natural bouquets; and bid Harry deny me to everybody this morning, except Mr. Fitzherbert. [Exit Kitty.

Enter FITZHERBERT.

Fitz. Happily excepted, my dear ward! but I suppose you heard my step, and threw in my name for a douceur. I can hardly believe, that when you shut your doors on youth and flattery, you would open them to a cross old man, who seldom entertains you with anything but your faults.

Julia. How you mistake, sir! You are the greatest flatterer I have; your whole conduct flatters me with esteem and love; and as you do not squander these things-(Smiles.)

Fitz. There I must correct you. I do squander them on few objects indeed; and they are proportionably warmer. I feel attachments fifty times as strong as your good-humoured, smiling people, who are every one's humble servant, and everybody's friend. Where is Lady Bell?

Julia. Yet at her toilette, I believe. My dear sir, I am every hour more grateful to you for having given me so charming a friend.

Fitz. So I would have you. When you came from France, I prevailed on her ladyship to allow you her society, that you might add to the polish of elegant manners, the graces of an elegant mind. -Here she comes; her tongue and her heels keeping time.

Enter LADY BELL BLOOMER.

Ay, ay, if all the women in the world were prating young widows, love and gallantry would die away, and our men grow reasonable and discreet.

Lady B. Oh, you monster! But I am in such divine spirits, that nothing you can say can destroy them. My sweet Julia, what a bouquet! Lady Myrtle will expire. She was so enveloped in flowers and evergreens last night, that she looked like the picture of Fair Rosamond in her bower.My dear Fitz, do you know we dined yesterday in Hill-street, and had the fortitude to stay till eleven.

Julia. I was tired to death with the fatiguing visit.

Lady B. Now I, on the contrary, came away with fresh relish for society. The persevering civility of Sir Andrew, and the mawkish insipidity of his tall daughter, act like olives: you can't endure them on your palate, but they heighten the

gusto of your tokay.

Fitz. Then I advise your ladyship to serve up tainment. Sir Andrew and his daughter at your next enter

Lady B. So I would, only one can't remove 'em with the dessert. But how do you like me? Don't you think I shall make a thousand conquests to day?

Fitz. Doubtless, if you meet with so many fools But, pray, which of those you have already made will be the most flattered by all these gay insignia of your liberty?

Lady B. Probably he whom it least concerns. Julia. Pray tell us which is that?

Lady B. Oh, heavens! to answer that requires more reflection than I have ever given the subject Julia. Should you build a temple to your lovers. I fancy we should find Lord Sparkle's name on the altar.

Lady B. Oh! Lord Sparkle! Who can resist the gay, the elegant, the all-conquering Lord Sparkle? the most distinguished feather in the plume of fashion; without that barbarous strength of mind which gives importance to virtues or to vices. Fashionable, because he's well-dressed; brilliant, because he's of the first clubs, and uses his borrowed wit like his borrowed gold-as though it were his own.

Fitz. Why, now, this man, whom you understand so well, you receive, as though his tinsel were pure gold.

Lady B. Ay, to be sure! tinsel is just as well for shew.

Fitz. But in the midst of all this sunshine for Lord Sparkle, will you not throw a ray on the spirited, modest Beauchamp?

Lady B. Were I so inclined, to make it wel come, I must change my fan for a spear, my fea thers for a helmet, and stand forth a Thalestris, You know his mistress is war. (Sighs.) Bat why do I trifle thus ?-The hour of triumph is at

hand.

Fitz. Of what?

Lady B. The moment of triumph!--Anglice, the moment when, having shewn myself at half the houses in St. George's, I am set down at St. James's, my fellows standing on each band, as ! descend-the whisper flying through the crowd, "Who is she? who is that sweet creature? Ont of the four heiresses?" "No, she's a foreign am bassadress." I ascend the stairs-move slowit