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Enter Patent.

| Sir Toby. Let us dine first, my dear, and I'll

go wherever you please. There, Mr. Manager, is an end of an act-Every Lady Fux. Dine, dine! Did you ever hear the beast upon his hind-legs !-I did intend, that like? you have no more feeling, Sir Toby, than houses and trees (according to the old story) your periwig.--I shall go distracted! the greatest should have joined in the dance; but it would curse of a poor woman is, to have a flighty daughhave crowded the stage too much.

ter, and a sleepy husband. [Erit Lady Fuz. Pat. Full enough as it is, Mr. Glib.

Sir Toby. And the greatest curse of a poor Lady Fuz. [Without.] Let me come, let me man is, to have every body flighty in his family come, I say !

but himself. Glib. D'ye hear, d'ye hear? her ladyship's in raptures, I find; I knew I should touch her.

Enter PATENT.

Pat. 'Tis true, Mr. Glib, the young lady is Enter Lady Fuz.

gone off, but with nobody that belongs to usLady Fuz. These are fine doings; fine doings, 'tis a dreadful affair! Mr. Glib!

Glib. So it is, faith! to spoil my rehearsal -I Glib. And a fine effect they will bave, my think it was very ungenteel of her, to choose this lady; particularly the dancing off of the beasts. morning for her pranks. Though she might make

Lady Fuz. Yes, yes; they have danced off, free with her father and mother, she should have but they shall dance back again take my word more manners than to treat me so; I'll tell her for it.

Walks about. as much when I see her. The second act shall Glib. My dear lady, and so they shall; don't be ready for you next week—I depend upon you be uneasy; they shall dance back again directly for a prologue-your genius-here, prompter, I intended to have the scene Pat. You are too polite, Mr. Glib-have you over again; I could see it for ever.

an epilogue? Lady Fuz. Was this your plot, Mr. Glib? Glib. I have a kind of address here, by way Or your contrivance, Mr. Manager?

of epilogue, to the town-I suppose it to be Pat. Madam!

spoken by myself, as the author who have you Glib. No, upon my soul ! 'tis all my own con can represent me?- no easy task, let me tell you trivance; not a thought stole from ancient, or -he must be a little smart, degagee, and not modern; all my own plot!

want assurance. Lady Puz. Call my servants ! I'll have a post Pat. Smart, degagee, and not want assurance? chaise directly; I see your guilt, by your vain -King is the very man. endeavours to hide it; this is the most bare-face- Glib. Thank, thank you! dear Mr. Patent el impudence !

the very man-is he in the house? I would read Glib. Impudence !- may I die, if I know an it to him. indecent expression in the whole piece!

Pat. O no! since the audience received him Pat, Your passion, madam, runs away with in Linco, he is practising music, whenever he is you; I don't understand you.

not wanted here. Lady Fuz. No, sir! 'tis one of your stage- Glib. I have heard as much; and that he conplayers has run away with my daughter; and tinually sets his family's teeth on edge, with I'll be revenged on you all;—I'll shut up your scraping upon the fiddle.-Conceit, conceit, Mr. bouse!

Patent, is the ruin of them all. I could wish, Pat. This must be inquired into.

whan he speaks this address, that he would be

[Exit PATENT. more easy in his carriage, and not have that Glib. What! did Miss Fuz run away without damned jerk in his bow, that he generally treats seting Orpheus?

us with. Lady Fuz. Dou't say a word more, thou Pat. I'll hint as much to him. blockhead!

Glib. This is my conception of the matter ;Glib. I am dumb, but no blockhead! Bow your body gently, turn your head semicir

cularly, on one side and the other; and, smiling Enter Sır Toby, in confusion,

thus, agreeably begin: Sir Toby. What is all this? what is it all about?

All fable is fiction—I, your bard, will mainLady Fus. Why, it is all your fault, Sir Toby!

tain it; had not you been asleep, she could never have And lest you don't know it, 'tis fit I explain it : been stolen from your side.

The lyre of our Orpheus means your appro Sir Toby. How do you know she is stolen?

bation; Enquire first, my lady, and be in a passion after Which frees the poor poet from care and vexwards.

ation; Lady Fuz. I know she's gone; I saw her with Shou'd want make his mistress too keen to a young fellow-he was upon his knees, swearing

dispute, by the inoon- let us have a post-chaise, Sir Your smiles fill his pockets—and madam is Toby, directly, and follow them!

mute;

Shou'd his wife, that's himself for they two |

are but one Be in hell, that's in debt, and the money all

gone; Your favour brings comfort, at once cures the

evil, For 'scaping bum bailiffs, is 'scaping the

devil; Nay, cerberus-critics their fury will drop, For such barking monsters, your smiles are a

sop;

But how to explain what you most will re

quire, That cows, sheep, and calves, should dance

after the lyre? Without your kind favour, how scanty each

meal! But with it comes dancing, beef, mutton and

veal; For sing it, or say it, this truth we all see, . Your applause will be ever the true beaume

de vie.

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SCENE I.-Whittle's house. 1 Neph. And for the same reason. This jour

ney to Scarborough will unfold the riddle. Enter Bates and Servant.

Bates. Come, come, in plain English, and be

fore your uncle comes, explain the matter. Bates. Is he gone out? his card tells me to Neph. In the first place, I am undone. come directly I did but lock up some papers, Bates. In love, I know-I hope your uncle is take my hat and cane, and away I hurried. not undone, too--that would be the devil!

Ser. My master desires you will sit down, he Neph. He has taken possession of him in every will return immediately: he had some business sense. In short, he came to Scarborough to sec with his lawyer, and went out in great haste, I the lady I had fallen in love with leaving the message I have delivered. Here is Bates. And fell in love himself? my young master.

[Exit Servant. Neph. Yes, and with the same lady.

Bates. That is the devil indeed!
Enter Nephew.

Neph, O, Mr. Bates! when I thought my hapBates, What, lively Billy!-hold, I beg your piness complete, and wanted only my uncle's pardon-melancholy William, I think-Here's a consent, to give me the independence he so often fie revolution-I hear your uncle, who was last has promised me, he came to Scarborough for month all gravity, and you all mirth, have that purpose, and wished me joy of my choice; changed characters; he is now all spirit, and but in less than a week, his approbation turned you are in the dumps, young man.

into a passion for her: he now hates the sight of

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him.

Bates. You are right—we must lay our wits Whit. I believe you 'never saw me look better, together, and drive the widow out of your old Frank, did you? master's head, and put her into your young inas- Bates. () yes, rather better forty years ago. ter's hands.

Whit. What, when I was at Merchant Taylors' Tho. With all my heart !-nothing can be School ? more meritorious-marry at his years! what a Bates. At Lincoln's-Inn, Tom. I terrible account would he make of it, Mr. Bates! Whit. It can't be ---I never disguise my age, -Let me see on the debtor side sixty-five- and next February I shall be fifty-four. and per contra creditor, a buxom widow of twen- Bates. Fifty-four! Why I am sixty, and you ty-three-He'll be a bankrupt in a fortnight- always licked me at school--though I believe I he, he, he!

could do as much for you now, and 'ecod I beBates. And so he would, Mr. Thomas—what lieve you deserve it too. have you got in your hand ?

Whit. I tell you I am in my fifty-fifth year. Tho. A pamphlet my old gentleman takes in Bates. O, you are?-let me see we were to- he has left off buying histories and religious gether at Cambridge, anno domini twenty-five, pieces by numbers, as he used to do; and since which is near fifty years ago you came to the he has got this widow in his head, he reads no- college, indeed, surprisingly young; and what thing but the Amorous Repository, Cupid's is more surprising, by this calculation, you'went R-vels, Call to Marriage, Hymen's Delights, to school before you was born—you was always Love lies a Bleeding, Love in the Suds, and such a forward child, like tender compositions.

Whit. I see there is no talking or consulting Bates. Here he comes, with all his folly about with you in this humour; and so, Mr. Bates,

when you are in temper to slow less of your wit, Tho. Yes, and the first fool from Vanity-fair and more of your friendship, I shall consult with -Heaven help us !-love turns man and woman you. topsy turry!

[Erit Tuomas. Bates. Fare you well, my old boy-young Whit. [Without.] Where is hc? where is my fellow, I mean--when you have done sowing good friend?

your wild oats, and have been blistered into your Enter WurttLE.

right senses; when you have balt killed yourself

with being a beau, and return to your woollen Ha! here he is-give me your hand.

caps, Manuel waistcoats, worsted stockings, cork Butes. I am glad to see you in such spirits, soles, and gullochies, I am at your service again. my old gentleman.

So bon jour to you, Monsieur Fifty-four---ba, hit. Not so old neither-10 man ought to ha!

TErit. b. called old, friend Bates, if he is in health, Whit. He has certainly heard of my affuirspirits, and

but he is old and peevishe--he wants spirits, and Bates. In his senses, which I should rather strength of constitution to conceive iny happidoubt, as I never saw you halt so frolicksome in ness---| ain in love with the widow, and must my life.

have lier: Every man knows his own wants-hit. Never too old to learn, friend; and if let the world laugh, and my friend stare ! let I don't make use of my philosophy now, I may them call me imprudent, and mad, if they wear it out in twenty years I have been always please- I live in good times, and among bautered as of too grave a cast--you know, I people of fashion ; so none of iny neighbours, when I studied at Lincoln's Inn, they used io thank Heaven, can bave the assurance to laugh call me Young Wisdoni.

at ine. Bates. And if they should call you Old Folly, it will be a much worse name.

Enter Old KecksEY. Whit. No young jackanapes dares to call me So, while I have this friend at my side. [Touches ! Kec. What, my friend Whittle! joy, joy, to his scord.)

you, old boy-you are going, a going, a going ! Bates. "A hero, too! what in the name of a fine widow has bid for you, and will have you common sense is come to you, my friend? -- -- hah, friend? all for the best--there is nobied spirits, quick honour, 'a long sword, and thing like it--hugh, hugh, hugh !---a good wife is a bag!-souwaut nothing but to be terribly a good thing, and a young one is a better--hah is love, and then you may saily forth Kniglit | ---who's afraid? If I had not lately married of the Woeful Countenance. Ha, ha, ha! one, I should have been at death's door by this

Whit. Mr. Bates--the ladies, who are the time- hugh, huglı, hugh! best judges of countenances, are not of your Whit. Thank, thank you, friend! I was comopinion and unless you'll be a little serious, ing to advise with you---I am got into the pound I must bey pardou for giving you this trouble, again--in love up to the cars---a fine woman, and I'll open my mind to some more attentive faith; and there's no love lost between us friend,

Ain I right, friend? Bates. Well, come! unlock then, you wild, Kec. Right! ay, right as my leg, Tom ! lavis mine, vigorous young dog you-I will please | Life's nothing without lore-huyti, huoli! I am you if I can.

I happy as the day's long! iny wife lovesgidding,

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