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Abs. O pray, Faulkland, fight to oblige sir Lu- will resign the lady, without firing 31 cus.

ceed against hira? Faulk. Xay, if Mr Acres is so bent on the Abs. Come on, thea s Dem ry matter

won't let it be an amicable set, here's a Aares. No, no, Mr Faulkland-r1 bear my disappointment like a Christian. Look'e, sir Le

Enta SIE ASTEOST, DAFID, as sie Tu cius, there's no occasion at all for me to fight; Dacid. Knock them al dors. E l and, if it is the same to you, I'd as lieve let it thouy--knock down my master pa alune.

bind his hands over to the good betoner Sur Luc. Observe me. Mr Acres, I must not be Sir Arth. Put op, Jack pot p. I . ' trified with. You hare certainly challenged some in a phrenz --How case you in a dels bodr-and you came here to fight bin-Now, if Abs. Fasth, sir, that gentesa ca that gentleman is willing to represent him, I can't better than I! 'twas he cated me: see, for my soul, why it is not just the same know, sir, I serve his majesty. thing

Sir Anth. Here's a pretty felon! I Actes. Wbv, no—sir Lacius tell you 'tis going to cut a man's throat, and he teks on one Beverles I're challenged-a fellow, you see, serves his majesty !-Zounds! s i tres that dare not show his face! If he were bere, durst you draw the king's seurd zums nei I'd make him give up his pretensions directly! bus subjects?

Abs. Hold, Bob- let me set you right--There Abs. Sir, I tell you! That gentemos o is no such man as Beverley in the case. The me out, without explaining his reasons. person who assumed that name is before you; Sir Anth. Gad, Sur! bow case yog to and, as his pretensions are the same in both cha- my son out, without explaining your reas racters, he is ready to support them in whaterer Sir Luc. Your son, sir, insulted reaa Way you please.

der which my bonour could not brook Sir Luc. Well, this is lucky.-Now you have Sir Anth. Zounds! Jack, how dons vec an opportunity

the gentle man in a manner which has been Acres. What! quarrel with my dear friend could not bruok? Jack Absolute--not if he were fifty Beverley's!! Mrs Mal. Come, come, let's lare so bere Zounds! sir Lucius, you would not have me so before ladies ; Captain Absolute, ook her unnatural.

How could you intimidate us so? Here's Loa Sir Luc. ['pop my conscience, Mr Acres, your has been terrified to death for you. valour has onzed away with a vengeance!

Abs. For fear I should be killed, o Acres. lot in the least! Odds backs and abet- madami tors! Ill be your second with all my heart-and, Jrs Mal. Nav, no delusions to the rest if you should get a quietus, you mas command Lydia is convinced; speak, child. me entirely. I'll get you spog lying in the abbey Sir Luc. With your leare, madam, I mesto here; or pickle you, and send you over to Blun- in a word here; I believe I could interpreta derbuss hall, or any thing of the kind, with the young lady's silence-low markgreatest pleasure.

Lydia. What is it you mean, sir? Sir Lue. Pho, pho! you are little better than Sir Luc. Come, come, Delia, we must be a coward.

ous now; this is no time for trifting. Acres. Mind, gentlemen, he calls me a coward! Lydia. Tis true, sir; and your reproof bids Coward was the word, by my valour!

me offer this gentleman my hand, and solicit the Sir Luc. Well, sir?

return of his affections. Acres. Look'e, sir Lucius, 'tis not that I mind | Abs. O ! my bttle angel, say you so?the word coward-roward mav be said in joke Lucius, I perceive there must be some mistake But if you had called me a poltroon, odds dag- here—with regard to the affront which you gers and ball

affirm I have given you. I can only say, that it Sir Luc. Well, sir?

could not have been intentional - And as ree Acres. I should have thought you a very ill-must be convinced, that I should not fear to sap bred man.

port a real injury—you shall now see that I Sir Luc. Pho! you are beneath my notice. not ashamed to atone for an inadvertency-I ask

Abs. Nay, sir Lucius, you can't have a better your pardon.-But for this lady, while honored second than my friend Acres-He is a most de with ber approbation, I will support my claim termined dog---called in the country, Fighting against any man whatever. Bob.-He generally kills a man a week! Don't Sir Anth. Well said, Jack, and I'll stand by you, Bob?

you, my boy! Acres. Ay; at home!

Actes. Mind, I give up all my claim-I make Sir Luc. Well, then, captain, 'tis we must be- no pretensions to any thing in the world--and of gin--so come ont, my little counsellor Draws I can't get a wife, without fighting for her, by my his sword.), and ask the gentleman, whether he alour, I'll live a bachelor.

ir Luc. Captain, give me your hand-an | weakness to the account of love, I should be unont handsomely acknowledged becomes an generous not to admit the same plea for your's. gation—and as for the lady-if she chooses Faulk. Now I shall be blest indeed !leny her own hand-writing here-

[Sir ANTHONY cornes forward. [Takes out letters. Sir Anth. What's going on here?-So you Mrs Mal. O, he will dissolve my mystery !- have been quarrelling too, I warrant. Come, Lucius, perhaps there's some mistake-per-Julia, I never interfered before; but let me have s I can illuminate

a hand in the matter at last.-All the faults I ir Luc. Pray, old gentlewoman, don't inter have ever seen in my friend Faulkland, seemed

where you have no business.- Miss Lan- | to proceed from what he calls the delicacy and sh, are you my Delia, or not?

warmth of his affection for you. There, marry -ydia. Indeed, sir Lucius, I am not.

him directly, Julia ; you'll find he'll mend sur[Lydia and ABSOLUTE walk aside. I prisingly!"

The rest come forward. Mrs Mal. "Sir Lucius O'Trigger-ungrateful 1 Sir Luc. Come now, I hope there is no dissayou are-I own the soft impeachment-par tisfied person, but what is content ; for as I have 1 my blushes, I am Delia !

been disappointed myself, it will be very hard if šir Luc. You Delia-pho! pho! be easy! I have not the satisfaction of seeing other people Mrs Mal. Why, thou barbarous Vandyke succeed betterse letters are mine-When you are more sen Acres. You are right, sir Lucius.So, Jack, I le of my benignity---perhaps I may be brought wish you joy-Mr Faulkland, the same.-Ladies, encourage your addresses.

-come now, to shew you I'm neither vexed nor Sir Luc. Mrs Malaprop, I am extremely sen angry, odds Tabors and Pipes! I'll order the le of your condescension; and whether you fiddles in balf an hour, to the New RoomsLucy have put this trick upon me, I am equal and I insist on your all meeting me there. beholden to you.--And, to shew you I am not Sir Anth. Gad! Sir, I like your spirit; and grateful, captain Absolute, since you have at night we single lads will drink a health to the en that lady from me, I'll give you my Delia young couples, and a husband to Mrs Malao the bargain.

prop. Abs. I am much obliged to you, sir Lucius; Faulk. Our partners are stolen from us, Jack t here's my friend, Fighting Bob, unprovided -I hope to be congratulated by each other

yours for having checked in time, the errors of Sir Luc. Hah! little Valour-here, will you an ill-directed imagination, which might have beake your fortune ?

trayed an innocent heart; and mine, for having, Acres. Odds wrinkles ! No.-But give me by her gentleness and candour, reformed the unur hand, sir Lucius; forget and forgive; but if happy temper of one, who, by it, made wretched er I give you a chance of pickling me again, whom he loved most, and tortured the heart he y Bob Acres is a dunce, that's all.

ought to have adored. Sir Anth. Come, Mrs Malaprop, don't be cast | Abs. Well, Jack, we have both tasted the bitwn--you are in your bloom yet.

ters, as well as the sweets, of love-with this Mrs Mal. O sir Anthony !---men are all bar difference only, that you always prepared the Irians

bitter cup for yourself, while I (All retire but Julia and FaulKLAND. Lydia. Was always obliged to me for it! hey, Julia. He seems dejected and unhappy-not Mr Modesty ?- But come, no more of that our llen--there was some foundation, however, for happiness is now as unallayed as general. le tale he told me- woman ! how true should | Julia. Then let us study to preserve it so: 2 your judgment, when your resolution is so and while Hope pictures to us a flattering scene eak!

of future bliss, let us deny its pencil those Faulk. Julia !-how can I sue for wbat I so colours which are too bright to be lasting --ttle deserve? I dare not presume---yet Hope is When hearts deserving happiness would unite le child of Penitence.

their fortunes, Virtue would crown them with Juliu. Oh! Faulkland, you have not been an unfading garland of modest hurtless flowers; ore faulty in your unkind treatment of me, but ill-judging Passion will force the gaudier aan I am now in wanting inclination to resent rose into the wreath, whose thorn offends them, • As my heart honestly bids ine piace my when its leaves are dropt! [Ereunt omnes. THE

CHOLERIC MA N.

BY

CUMBERLAND..

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

MEN.

FRAMPTON, clerk to MAXLOVE. ANDREW NIGHTSHADE, the choleric man. FREDERICK, servant to CHARLES JASLOVI. MAXLOVE, half brother to NIGHTSHADE. STAPLETOx, a merchant.

WOMEN. CHARLES MAXLOVE, NIGHTSHADE's eldest son. | MRS STAPLETOX, wife to STAPLETOS. Jack NIGHTSHADE, his brother.

LÆTITIA, niece to STAPLETOX. DIBBLE, a corcomb.

| Lucy, sister to DIBBLE. GREGORY, servant to ANDREW NIGHTSHADE.

Scene-London.

ACT L
SCENE I.-MaxLove's Chambers. Framp. No body.

Man. Any cases?
FRAMPTON at his desk.

Framp. Several.

(Gires kim papers

Jan. Bless me! was the world of my mind Enter MANLOVE as from his walk-FRAMPTON they would patch up their differences over a box

rises, and meets him with some papers. | tle, and let the grass grow in our inns of coort Franp. You have lengthened your walk this Let me see—what have we got here? Reads morning?

• A detects B plucking turnips out of hus feld Man. Very likely: The gardens were plea- &c Here's a fellow for you! he'll go to law with sant, and I believe I have rather exceeded my the crows for picking worms out of his danghil: usual stint.

Prosecute a fellow-creature for a turnip Framp. By just one turn upon the Terrace. A turnip be his damages!

Man. Yon measured me, I see. We men of Framp. And his food, too at least till be's a business, Frampton, contract strange habits of better man regularity.

Man. [Reading.] Nicholas Swanskin, taylor, Framp. And bachelors too, sir.

in Threadneedle-street, would be glad to know Man. Very true, very true: A wife now and how to proceed in a legal way against bis wife, then does put a man a little out of method, I in a case of cohabitancy,'-Had you any fee with have heard. Is any body waiting?

this case?

'ramp. A light guinea, sir.

| tough morsel. He's above ground, as my head lan. 'Tis more than a light woman deserves : can testify,

[Shews his skull. e the taylor his guinea again; bid him pro Dıb. Why that's action and battery with a I to his work, and leave a good-for-nothing | vengeance !

to go on with hers—and hark'e, Frainpton, Gre. Battery! he knows the strength of my seem to want a new coat-suppose you let skull, as well as a sand-man knows the back of

take your measure-the fellow, you see, his ass, and cudgels it as often: but he's hard dd fain be cutting out work for the lawyers.

| at hand - When will his honour, Manlove, be at d Mr Dibble hither. Oh, he is come.

home? [Frampton retires to his desk. Dib. Presently, presently. What brings your

old blade hither? Enter DIBBLE, with papers.

Greg. The old errand : a little bit of law; a Dibble, have you got Miss Fairfax's papers ? | small jig to the tune of John Doe and Richard Dib. They are in my hand, sir.

Roe; that's all. Van. Have you copied my opinion upon the Dib. Plaintiff, I bet five to one. But how does

my playmate, Jack? how fares it with young Dib. It is ready for signing.

Hopeful? B. gives him a pen, and Man. signs a paper.] Gre. Gad's-my-life, well remembered! here's llan. There, sir. You've compared it, no a writing for you : 'tis a merciless scrawl, to be bt-Put the papers under one inclosure, and sure; he's not at all come on in his running-hand; ry them to Miss Fairfax's; make my respects, not at all ; no, though I talk to him, and talk to I say I will have the honour of waiting on her him, and tell him what a fine young inan his broi forenoon, and stating some particulars in my ther Charles is here-Mr Manlove, I must call nion that may want explaining.

him now; for his honour, I am told, since his Dib. I shall, sir.

return from travel, has nominated him afresh af (Goes to the table, and puts up the papers. ter himself, has not he, Master Dibble? Van. Are you ready, Frampton ? You and I | Dib. Ay, ay; 'twas done last sessions; he's st step to the ball, How we appear to that no longer Charles Nightshade, but Charles Manuce gentleman! His father wore a livery-his love, Esq. and a brave estate he's got by the exer is waiting-woman to Miss Fairfax, the very change y he is going to in that monkey habit! Is Gre. All these things I ding into the ears of Te no persuading him to suit his dress to his our young scape-grace, Jack; but, I might as Idition? Believe me, Frampton, there is much well whistle the birds from the sky, as talk him »d sense in old distinctions: When the law lays out of his tricks; mobbing with the carter-felwn its full-bottomed periwig, you will find less lows, and scampering after the maids : all the sdom in bald pates than you are aware of. while, too, the arch knave contrives to blind the

[Ereunt Man, and Fram. eyes of old Choleric, his father, sitting as demure Dib. What a damned queer figure old Framp- as a cat, 'till be is fairly in for his evening's nap; I makes of himself! I must never shew him at then, away goes he, like hey-go-inad, all the par Sunday's clubnever. The counsellor's lit-rish over. Well, have you made out his letter?

better : It does well enough for chamber Dib. I'll attempt to read it to you. actice, but he couldn't walk the hall in that g: Its nothing now unless a good club of bair Dear Pickle, eps under the tye. I hope shortly to see the Old Choleric is setting off for London, and y when Westminster-ball shall be able to count thinks to leave me in the country, but it won't es with the parade. He sits down. A knock J'do: must have another brush with the lads at the g at the door.] Who's at the door? Come in Bear: intend to be at brother Charles's on Wedou expect now I should rise and open it? not I, nesday at noon, where you'll meet me. Old faith; do that office for yourself, or stay where ‘Trusty carries this, and understands trap: mum's u are. Ah, Gregory, is it you? what wind the word. Thine, ew you hither? what witch brought you at her

Jonn NIGHTSHADE.' ack?

So you are privy to this trip, Gregory?
Enter GREGORY.

Gre. To be sure, master Dibble; we are all Gre. No witch, but an old bone-setting mare, of his side : there is not a servant would peach, ith a heavy cloak-bag at her crupper, that has if he was to commit murder amongst them. layed a bitter tune upon my ribs. Where's his | Dib. Indeed ! But hold, here is more over the onour, Master Dibble?

leaf. “Gregory says I was of age last Lammas; Dib. Out-Give me hold of thy hand, old boy. if you know of ever a clean tight wench, that What's the best news in your parts? Hav'n't will take me out of old Choleric's clutches, I arthed old Surly-boots yet?

den't care if I buckle to, for life. N. B. She Gre, Earthed him ! no such luck; he's a must have the Spanish, or the bait won't take.'

So, so! he's for a wife, you see: has he ever | education; the other poor lad has been a bed. talked to you in this strain?

his own breeding. Gre. Now and then; but I always tell him 'tis Gre. And a precious bird lre is ! such a time to think of marrying when the old badger is lapwing ! skitting here, and skirting there; se in the earth.

times above, sometimes below: DO WOLDE Dib, Pooh! you're to blame: we'll make a so wild, when his schooling has been madera man of him; we'll set him up with a wife. I hedges; but, I hear iny old master on the sur have a girl in my eye! a friend of my own-pro Good morning to your honour-I must budes vided you will bear a hand in the business. wards to Mr Stapleton's.

(Eat G Gre. Bear a hand, master Dibble! You are a Man. Gregory, good morning! lawyer and can take care of yourself; I'm a poor servant, and have a character to lose.

Enter AxdREW NIGHTSI ADE. Dib. Well, well; but if I pay you for your A. Night. (Speaks, as he enters.] I te 2 character, and your service into the bargain fellow, there's your fare: I'll not give you a mevery thing has its price, you know.

thing over. A hard shilling, indeed!- E Gre. To be sure, there's no denving that ; but, coach, if you please!-Brother Manlore, Fer hark! here comes his honour Manlove.

servant! This town grows worse and worse: L Dib, Enough—Where are you lodged? conscience, no police-if I was not the most p Gre. At Mr Stapleton's, in New Broad-Street: tient man alive, such things would turn my bra I'm going thither after I've seen the counsellor.

|--Brother Manlore, I say your servant ! Dib. Better and better still! I'm going thither, Man. Brother Andrew, you are welcome. Ta too, and will wait for you, below, in the square : seemed a little ruffled, so that I waited for it we can discuss my scheme by the way.

subsiding, and now, give me your hand : 12

TErit Dıb. glad to see you in town, provided the con Gre. What a sharp bitten vermin it is! Ah! be agreeable. these lawyers have all their wits about them. A. Night. I think the law has a provizo hr

every thing: your compliment sets off, like to Enter MANLOVE.

preamble of a statute, and your conclusion bar

after, like the clause at the tail of it. So you Man. What, Gregory! and without thy mas- keep your old apartments, and as slovenly a ter? Where's my brother Nightshade? Thou and ever-Lincoln's-Inn and the law-50 runs pas he are seldom parted, I believe.

life. A turn upon the terrace after breakfast, a Gre. Troth, sir, I hope Heaven will take some mutton chop for dinner at the Rolls, and us consideration of that, and set off the sins of my evening paper at the Mount, wind up your car youth against the suffering of my old age. The Man. A narrow scale, I own; but whether i 'squire is at hand.

be, that I was made too small for happiness, Man. Well, and what business calls him up never could entertain both guests together; i to town?

took the humblest of the two, and left the other Gre. Please your honour, he is fallen out with for my betters. our parson.

A. Night. Ay, 'tis too late to alter; 'woald Man. About tythes ?

be a vain endeavour to correct your temper s Gre. Lack-a-day! he has been non-suited upon these years-.By the way, brother, your star-cax that score over and over-'Tis about game. is the dirtiest I ever set my foot upon.

Man. Game, quutha! if he comes to talk to Man, So long as we have clean dealings, with me about hares and partridges, Gregory, I won't in, our clients will make to complaint. Your's, hear of it: such laws and such law-suits are the I warrant, was neater at Rotterdam? disgrace of the country-I wont hear a word A. Night. Neater! 'tis a matter of astonisiupon the subject.

ment to me, how you, that have a plentiful et Gre. It's quite a breach; he has totally left off tate, can make yourself a slave to business, and

ng to church himself, and forbade all his fa- drudge away your life in such a hole as this! mily; nay, what's more, he has broke his back- Man. True, Andrew, 'twas unreasonable ; but gammon tables, only because the parson taught as I have now made over the best part of my es him the game. Mercy o' me, that ever your ho- tate to your son, so I think I have answered the nour and my old master should be born of the best part of your objection, same mother!

A. Night. You shall excuse me all the world Man. Of the same mother, but very different cries out upon your folly; you are apt to be s fathers, Gregory: doomed, from early youth, to a little hasty, else I should be free to tell you, you life merely mercantile, his days have been passed have made yourself ridiculous; and what is worse between a compting-house at Rotterdam, and the brother Charles, I speak to you as a faciei, cabin of a Dutch dogger; precious universities ! you have undone my son. One son, indeed, he allowed me to rescue from Man. How so? have I confined him in his edehis hands, and to him I have given a public cation?

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