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Sir J. Lamb. But, consider, doctor-shall my me—I'm a breaking my heart -- I think its a wicked son then be heir to my lands, before re sin to keep a shop. pentance has entitled him to favour?-No, let Old Lady Lamb. Why, if you think it a sin, him depend upon you, whom he has wronged; indeed-pray what's

your business? perhaps, in time he may reflect upon his father's Maw. We deals in grocery, tea, small beer, justice, and be reconciled to your rewarded vir- charcoal, butter, brick-dust, and the like. tues.- If Heaven should at last reclaim him, in Old Lady Lamb. Well; you must consult with you, I know, he still would find a fond forgiving your friendly director here. father.

Mau. I wants to go a preaching. Dr Cant. The imagination of so blest an hour Old Lady Lamb. Do you? softens me to a tenderness I cannot support ! Muw. I'm almost sure I have had a call.

Old Lady Lamb. Oh! the dear good man ! Old Lady Lamb. Ay!

Sir J. Lamb. With regard to my daughter, Muu. I have made several sermons already; I doctor, you know she is not wronged by it: be- does them extrumpery, because I cann't write ; cause, if she proves not obstinate, she may still and now the devils in our alley says, as how my be happy.

head's turned. Old Lady Lamb. Yes, but the perverse wretch Old Lady Lamb. Ay, devils indeed but slights the blessing you propose for her. don't you inind them.

Dr Cant. We must allow, madam, female mo Maw. No, I don't-I rebukes them, and desty a time, which often takes the likeness of preaches to them whether they will or not. We distaste: the commands of your good son might | lets our house in lodgings to single men; and too suddenly surprise her~Maids must be gently sometimes I gets them together, with one or two dealt with—and might I humbly advise

of the neighbours, and makes them all cry. Sir J. Lumb. Any thing you will; you shall Old Lady Lamb. Did you ever preach in pubgovern me and her.

lic? Dr Cant. Then, sir, abate of your authority, Muw. I got up on Kennington Common the and let the matter rest a wbile.

last review day, but the boys threw brick-bats at Sir J. Lamb. Suppose we were to get my wife me, and pinned crackers to my tail; and I have to speak to her? women will often hear from been afraid to mount ever since. their own sex what, sometimes, even from the Old Lady Lamb. Do you hear this, doctor! man they like, will startle them.

throw brick-bats at him, and pin crackers to his Dr Cant. Then, with your permission, sir, I tail ! can these things be stood by ? will take an opportunity of talking to my lady. Maw. I told them so-says I, I does nothing

Sir J. Lamb. She's now in her dressing room; clandecently; I stand here contagious to his maI'll go and prepare her for it.

[Exit. jesty's guards, and I charges you apon your apDr Cant. You are too good to me, sir-too parels not to mislist me. bountiful.

Old Lady Lamb. And it had no effect ?

Maw. No more than if I spoke to so many Enter SEYWARD.

postesses; but if he advises me to go a preachSeyw. Sir, Mr Maw-worm is without, and ing, and quit my shop, I'll make an excressance would be glad to be permitted to speak with you. farther into the country.

Old Lady Lamb. Oh, pray, doctor, admit him; Old Lady Lamb. An excursion, you would say. I have not seen Mr Maw-worm this great while; Maw. I am but a sheep, but my bleatings shall he's a pious man, tho' in a humble estate ; de- be heard afar off, and that sheep shall become a sire the worthy creature to walk in.

shepherd: nay, if it be only, as it were, a shep

herd's dog, to bark the stray lambs into the fold. Enter MAW-WORM.

Old Lady Lamb. He wants method, doctor. -How do you do, Mr Maw-worm?

Dr Cani. Yes, madam, but there is matter; Maw. Thank your ladyship’s axing-I'm but and I despise not the ignorant, deadly poorish, indeed; the world and I can't Mau. He's a saint-till I went after him, I agree-I have got the books, doctor—and Mrs was little better than the devil; my conscience Grunt bid me give her service to you, and thanks was tanned with sin like a piece of neat's leather, you for the eighteen-pence.

and had no more feeling than the sole of my Dr Cant. Hush, friend Maw-worm ! not a shoe; always a roving after fantastical delights: word more; you know I hate to have my little I used to go every Sunday evening to the Three charities blaz'd about :-a poor widow, madam, Hats at Islington; it's a public-house; mayhap to whom I sent my mite.

your ladyship may know it: I was a great lover Old Lady Lumb. Give her this.

of skittles too, but now I can't bear them. [Offers a purse to MAW-WORM. Old Lady Lamb. What a blessed reformation! Dr Cant. I'll take care it shall be given up to Maw. I believe, doctor, you never know'd as her.

(Puts it up. how I was instigated one of the stewards of the Old Lady Lamb. But what is the matter with reforming society. I convicted a man of five vou, Mr Maw-worm ?

oaths, as last Thursday was se'nnight, at the Nuu. I don't know what's the matter with | Pewter Platter, in the Borough; and another of

of the money:

three, while he was playing trap-ball in St George's | me? The thought of speaking to her throws me Fields: I bought this waistcoat out of my share into a disorder. There's nobody within, I be

lieve-I'll knock again. · Old Lady Lamb. But how do you mind your business?

Enter BETTY. Maw. We have lost almost all our customers, Is your lady busy? because I keeps extorting them whenever they Betty. I believe she's only reading, sir. come into the shop.

Scyw. Will you do me the favour to let her Old Ludy Lamb. And how do you live? . know, if she's at leisure, I beg to speak with her

Maw. Better than ever we did; while we were upon some earnest business? worldly minded, my wife and I (for I am married to as likely a woman as you shall see in a thou

Enter CHARLOTTE. sand) could hardly make things do at all; but Charl. Who's that? since this good man has brought us into the road Betty. She's here. -Mr Seyward, madam, of the righteous, we have always plenty of every | desires to speak with you. thing; and my wife goes as well dressed as a Charl. Oh, your servant, Mr Seyward.--Here, gentlewoman -we have had a child too. take this odious Homer, and lay him up again ; Old Lady Lamb. Merciful !

he tires me.-{Erit Betty.]—How could the Maw. And between you and me, doctor, I be- blind wretch make such an horrid fuss about a lieve Susy's breeding again.

fine woman, for so many volumes together, and Dr Cant. Thus it is, madam; I am constant- give us no account of her amours? You have ly told, though I can hardly believe it, a blessing read him, I suppose, in the Greek, Mr Seyward? follows wherever I come.

Seyw. Not lately, madam. Maw. And yet, if you would hear how the Churl. But do you so violently admire him neighbours reviles my wife, saying, as how she now? sets no store by me, because we have words now Seyw. The critics say he has his beauties, maand then; but, as I says, if such was the case, dam; but Ovid has been always my favourite. would ever she have cut me down that there time Charl, Ovid-Oh, he is ravishing ! as I was melancholy, and she found me hanging Seyw. So art thou, to madness! (Aside. behind the door? I don't believe there's a wife Charl. Lord ! how could one do to learn in the parish would have done so by her hus- Greek?_Were you a great while about it? band.

Seyw. It has been half the business of my life, Dr Cant. I believe 'tis near dinner time, and madam. Sir John will require my attendance:

Charl. That's cruel now; then you think one Mau. Oh! I am troublesome-nay, I only could not be mistress of it in a month or two? come to you, doctor, with a message from Mrs Seyw. Not casily, madam. Grunt. I wish your ladyship heartily and hear Charl. They tell me it has the softest tone for tily farewell; doctor, a good day to you. love of any language in the world—I fancy I

Old Lady Lamb. Mr Maw-worm, call on me could soon learn it. I know two words of it alsome time this afternoon; I want to have a lit- ready. de private discourse with you; and, pray, my Seyw, Pray, madam, what are they? service to your spouse.

Churl. Stay-let me see-Oh-ay-Zoe kai Muw. I will, madam; you are a malefactor to psuche. all goodness ; I'll wait upon your ladyship; } Seyw. I hope you know the English of them, will, indeed: (Going, returns.] Oh, doctor, that's madam. true; Susy desired me to give her kind love and Charl. Oh lud ! I hope there is no harm in respects to you.

(Erit. it-I'm sure I heard the doctor say it to my ladyDr Cunt. Madam, if you please, I will lead pray, what is it? you into the parlour.

Seyu. You must first imagine, madam, a tenOld Ludy Lamb. No, doctor, my coach waits der lover gazing on his mistress; and then, inat the door; I only called upon the business you deed, they have a softness in them; as thusknow of; and partly indeed to see how you did, Zoe kai psuche-my life! my soul! after the usage you had met with; but I have Charl. Oh the impudent young rogue ! how struck the wretch out of my will for it.

his eyes spoke too ! -What the deuce can he

want with me? Enter SEYWARD.

Seyw. I have startled her !she muses ! Dr Cant. Charles, you may lay those papers Charl. It always run in my head that this felby again, but in some place where you'll easily low had something in him above his condition; find them; for I believe we shall have occasion I'll know immediately. Well, but your busifor them some time this afternoon.

ness with me, Mr Seyward ? You have someSeyu. I'll take care, sir.

thing of love in your head, I'll lay my life on't. (Exeunt Dr CANT. and Old Lady LAMB. Seyu. I never yet durst own it, madam. -Occasion for them this afternoon ! -Then Churl. Why, what's the matter? there's no time to be lost; the coast is clear, and Seyw. My story is too melancholy to enterthis is her chamber - What's the matter with I tain a mind so much at ease as yours.

Charl. Oh, I love melancholy stories of all Charl. But how has the wretch dared to treat things :-pray, how long have you lived with you? your uncle, Mr Seyward?

Seyu. In his ill and insolent humours, madam, Seyu. With Doctor Cantwell, I suppose you he has sometimes the presu nption to tell me mean, madam?

that I am the object of his charity; and I own, Churi. Ay.

madam, that I am humbled in my opinion, by Scyd. He's no uncle of mine, madam. his having drawn me into a connivance at some Charl. You surprise me! not your uncle? actions, which I cannot look back on without

Seyni. No, madam ; but that's not the only horror! character the doctor assumes, to which he has Charl. Indeed you cannot tell how I pity you ; no right.

and depend upon it, if it be possible to serve you, Churl. Lord! I am concerned for you. by getting you out of the hands of this monster, Seyu. So you would, madam, if you knew all. I will.

Churl. I am already; but if there are any far Seyw. Once more, madam, let me assure you, ther particulars of your story, pray let me hear that your generous inclination would be a conthem; and should any services be in my power, solation to me in the worst misfortunes; and, I am sure you may command them.

even in the last moment of painful death, would Seyw. You treat me with so kind, so gentle a give my heart a joy. hand, that I will unbosom myself to you.--My Charl. Lord ! the poor unfortunate boy loves father, madam, was the younger branch of a gen me too—what shall I do with him?—Pray, Mr teel family in the North'; his name, Trueman- Seyward, what paper's that you have in your but dying while I was yet in my infancy, I was hand ?-Is it relative to left wholly dependent on my mother; a woman Seyw. Another instance of the conscience, really pious and well-meaning, but-In short, and gratitude, which animates our worthy docmadam, Doctor Cantwell fatally got acquainted | tor. with her, and, as he is now your father's bosom Charl. You frighten me! pray, what is the counsellor, soon became hers; for his hypocri- purport of it? Is it neither signed nor sealed! sy had so great an effect on her weak spirit, that Seyu. No, madam ; therefore to prevent it, he entirely led and managed her at his pleasure. by this timely notice, was my business here with She died, madam, when I was but eight years you: your father gave it to the doctor first, to old; and then I was indeed left an orphan. shew his counsel; who, having approved it, I

Charl. Poor creature !-Lord! I cannot bear it! | understand this evening it will be executed.

Seyw. She left Doctor Cantwell her sole heir Churl. But what is it? and executor: but I must do her the justice to Seyw. It grants to Doctor Cantwell, in presay, I believe it was in the confirmation that he sent, four hundred pounds per annum, of which would take care of, and do justice to me; who, this very house is part ; and, at your father's young as I was, I yet remember to have heard death, invests him in the whole remainder of his her recommend to him on her death-bed : and, freehold estate.-For you, indeed, there is a indeed, he has so far taken care of me, that he charge of four thousand pounds upon it, provisent me to a seminary abroad ; and for these ded you marry with the doctor's consent ; if three years last past has kept me with him. not, 'tis added to 'my lady's jointure-But

Charl. A seminary! Oh! Heavens! but why your brother, madam, is, without conditions, uthave you not strove to do yourself justice ? terly disinherited.

Seyw. Thrown so young into his power as I Charl. I am confounded !- What will become was unknown and friendless, but through his of us ! My father now, I find, was seriousmeans, to whom could I apply for succour? Oh, this insinuating hypocrite !

-Let me seeNay, madam, I will confess, that on my return ay-I will go this minute. Sir, dare you trust to England, I was at first tainted with his enthu- this in my hands for an hour only? siastic notions myself; and, for some time, as

(Bell rings.

Charl. Hark! they ring to dinner: pray, sir, degrees, as he found it necessary to make use step : say I am obliged to dine abroad and of, or totally discard me (which last he did not whisper one of the footmen to get a chair immethink prudent to do, he was obliged to unveil diately; then do you take a proper occasion to himself to me in his proper colours—And I be- slip out after me to Mr Double's chambers in lieve I can inform you of some parts of his pri- the Temple; there I shall have time to talk furvate character, that may be the means of detect-ther with you.

(Exeunt. ing one of the wickedest impostors that ever practised upon credulity.

manele imposed upon by him as others in the and thing to serve you

in:

ACT III.

cret now.

sce.

sity for its being a secret; and I insist upon you SCENE I.- A Dressing Room, with Table and believing it. Chairs.

Darn. But pray, madam, what am I to do Enter CHARLOTTE, with BETTY, taking off her is not in my power to confine ; and sure you

with private imagination in the mean time? that Cloak, &c.

won't be offended, if, to avoid the tortures that Charl. Has any one been to speak with me, may give me, I beg you'll trust me with the seBetty?

Betty. Only Mr Darnley, madam; he said he Charl. Don't press me, for positively I will would call again, and bid his servant stay below, not. to give him notice when you came home.

Darn. Will not ?-cannot had been a kinder Charl, You don't know what he wanted? term--Is my disquiet of so little moment to

Betty. No, madam ; he seemed very uneasy you? at your being abroad.

Charl. Of none, while your disquiet dares not Charl. Well, go and lay up those things— trust the assurances I have given you. If you (Exit Betty.] Ten to one but his wise head has expect I should confide in you for life, don't let found out something to be jealous of: if he lets me see you dare not take my word for a day; me see it, I shall be sure to make him infinitely and, if you are wise, you'll think so fair a trial a easy-here he comes.

favour. Enter DARNLEY.

Darn. If you intend it such—it is a favour;

if not 'tis something-so-come, let's wave the Darn. Your humble servant, madam.

subject. Charl. Your servant, sir.

Charl. With all my heart. Have you seen my Darn. You have been abroad, I hear? brother lately? Charl. Yes, and now I am come home, you

Darn. Yes, madam; and he tells me, it seems

the doctor is the man your father has resolved Darn. You seem to turn upon my words, ma upon. dam! Is there any thing particular in them? Charl. 'Tis so; nay, and what will more sur

Charl. As much as there is in my being abroad, prise you, he leaves me only to the choice of him, I believe.

or of no fortune. Darn. Might I not say you had been abroad Darn. And may I, without offence, beg leave without giving offence?

to know what resolution you have taken upon it ? Charl. And might I not as well say I was Churl. I have not taken any; I do not know come horne, without your being so grave upon't? what to do; what would you advise me to?

Darn. Do you know any thing that should Durn. I advise you to ? nay, you are in the make me grave?

right to make it a question. Charl. I know, if you are so, I am the worst Charl. He says he'll settle all his estate upon person in the world you can possibly shew it to. him, too.

Darn. Nay, I don't suppose you do any thing Darn. O take it: take it, to be sure; its the you won't justify.

fittest match in the world; you can't do a wi. Charl. Oh, then I find I have done something ser thing certainly. you think I can't justify.

Chari. 'Twill be as wise, at least, as the mcDarn. I don't say that neither; perhaps I am thod you take to prevent it. wrong in what I have said; but I have been so Darn. Is't possible ? how can you torture me often used to ask pardon for your being in the with this indifference? wrong, that I am resolved henceforth never to Charl. Why do you insult me with such a rely on the insolent evidence of my own senses. barefaced jealousy?

Charl. You don't know now, perhaps, that I Darn. Is it a crime to be concerned for what think this pretty smart speech of yours is very becomes of you? Has not your father openly dedull; but, since that's a fault you can't help, Í clared against me, in favour of another? How will not take it ill; come now, be as sincere on is it possible, at such a time, not to have a your side, and tell me seriously Is not what real thousand fears? What though they are false business I had abroad the very thing you want and groundless, are they not still the effect of to be made easy in?

love, alarmed, and anxious to be satisfied ? I Darn. If I thought you would make me easy, have an heart that cannot bear disguises ; but, I would own it.

when 'tis grieved, in spite of me, will shew it---Charl. Now we come to the point. -To- Pray pardon me but when i am told you went morrow morning, then, I give you my word to out in the utmost hurry, with some writings to a let you know it all; tiủ when, there is a neces- I lawyer, and took the doctor's nephew with you,

even in the very hour your father had proposed Seyw. I did not stir from the desk till it was him as an husband, what am I to think? Can I, entirely finished. must I suppose my senses fail me? If I have Charl. Where's the original? eyes, have ears, and have an heart, must it still Seyw. This is it, madam. be a crime to think I see and hear, and feel that Charl. Very well; that, you know, you must I am wronged?

keep ; but come, we must lose no time; we will Charl. Well, I own, it looks ill-natured now, examine this in the next room.-Now I feel for not to shew him some concern -but then, this him.

(Exit. jealousy I must and will get the better of, or we Darn. This is not to be borne-Pray, Mr shall be miserable.

Charles, what private business have you with Darn. Speak, Charlotte; is still my jealousy that lady? a crime?

Seyw. Sir! Charl. If you still insist on it as a proof of love, Darn. I must know, young man. then I must tell you, sir, 'tis of that kind, that Seyw. Not quite sa young, but I can keep a only slighted hearts are pleased with -when I secret, and a lady's too -you'll excuse me, sir. am so reduced, perhaps I may bear it. The fact

(Exit. you charge me with, is true: I have been abroad; Darn. 'Sdeath ! I shall be laughed at by but let appearances be ever so strong, while there every body-I shall run distracted -this is a possibility that what I have done may be in young fellow should repent his pertness, did not nocent, I won't bear a look that tells me to my this house protect him. - This is Charlotte's conface, you dare suspect me.

If you have doubts, trivance to distract me- --but-but what ? why don't you satisfy them before you see me? Oh!- I have love enough to bear this, and ten Can you suppose I am to stand confounded, like times as much. a criminal, before you !--Come, come, there's nothing shows so low a mind, as those grave and

Enter Colonel LAMBERT. insolent jealousies.

Col. Lamb. What, in raptures ? Darn. However, madam, mine you won't find Darn. Pr’ythee--I am unfit to talk with so low as you imagine ; and, since I see your ty- you. ranny arises from your mean opinion of me, 'tis Col. Lamb. What, is Charlotte in her airs time to be myself, and disavow your power ; you again? use it now beyond my bearing; not only impose Darn. I know not what she is. on me to disbelieve my senses, but do it with such Col. Lamb. Do you know where she is? an imperious air, as if my manly reason were your Darn, Retired this moment to her chamber slave, and this despicable frame that follows you, with the young fellow there—the doctor's nedurst shew no signs of life but what you vouch-phew. safe to give it.

Col. Lamb. Why, you are not jealous of the Charl. You are in the right: go on-suspect doctor, I hope ? me ştill-believe the worst you can-'tis all Darn. Perhaps she'll be less reserved to you, truc—I don't justify myself. -Why do you and tell you wherein I have mistaken her. trouble me with your complaints ? If

you are

Col. Lumb. Poor Frank! every plot I lay upon master of that manly reason you boasted, give a my sister's inclination for you, you are sure to manly proof of it; at once resume your liberty; ruin by your own conduct. despise me; go off in triumph now, like a king Darn. I own I have too little temper, and too in a tragedy; and let me see you scorn the wo much real passion, for a modish lover. man, whose overbearing falsehood would insult Col. Lamb. Come, come, make yourself easy your senses.

once more; I'll undertake for you: If you'll fetch Durn, Is this the end of all, then ? and are a cool turn in the Park, upon Constitution-Hill, those tender protestations you have made me, in less than half an hour I'll come to you, and for such I thought them, when, with a kind re make you perfectly easy. luctance, you gave me something more than Darn. Dear Tom, you are a friend indeed !-hope--what all-oh, Charlotte, all come to I have a thousand things--but-you shall find

me there.

(Exit. Charl. Oh, lud! I am growing silly ; if I hear on, I shall tell him every thing ; 'tis but another

Enter CHARLOTTE and SEYWARD. struggle, and I shall conquer it.----So, you are Col. Lamb. How now, sister? what have you not gone, I see.

done to Darnley? The poor fellow looks as if Darn. Do you then wish me gone, madam ? he had killed your parrot. Charl. Your manly reason will direct you. Charl. Psha ! you know him well enough ;

Darn. This is too much--my heart can I've only been setting him a love lesson; it a bear no more !What, am I rooted here? little puzzles him to get through it at first, but

he'll know it all by to-morrow--you will be Enter SEYWARD.

in the way, Mr Seyward. Charl. At last I am relieved.-Well, Mr Sey Seyu. Madam, you may depend upon me: I ward, is it done?

have my full instructions.

[Erit,

this:

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