ings. White Stockings his dam was got by Lord Hedge's South Barb, full sister to the Proserpine Filly, and his sire Tom Jones; his grandam was the Irish Duchess, and his grandsire 'Squire Sportly's Trajan; his great grandam, and great great grandam, were Newmarket Peggy and Black Moll, and his great grandsire, and great, great grandsire, were Sir Ralph Whip's Regulus, and the famous Prince Anamaboo. his

JOHN X SPUR, mark. STARTAL."

Tom. All fine horses, and won every thing! a foal out of your honour's Bald-faced Venus, by this horse, would beat the world.

Sir H. Well then, we'll think on't. But, pox on't, Tom, I have certainly knock'd up my little roan gelding, in this damn'd wild-goose chase of threescore miles an end.

Tom. He's deadly blown to be sure, your honour; and I am afraid we are upon a wrong scent after all. Madam Harriot certainly took across the country, instead of coming on to London.

Sir H. No, no, we traced her all the way up.— But, d'ye hear, Tom, look out among the stables and repositories here in town, for a smart road nag, and a strong horse to carry a portmanteau.

Tom. Sir Roger Turf's horses are to be soldI'll see if there's ever a tight thing there-but I suppose, sir, you would have one somewhat stronger than Snip-I don't think he's quite enough of a horse for your honour.

Sir H. Not enough of a horse! Snip's a powerful gelding master of two stone more than my weight. If Snip stands sound, I would not take a hundred guineas for him. Poor Snip! go into the stable, Tom, see they give him a warm mash, and look at his heels and his eyes. But where's Mr Russet all this while?

Tom. I left the 'squire at breakfast on a cold pigeon-pye, and enquiring after madam Harriot in the kitchen. I'll let him know your honour would be glad to see him here.

Sir H. Ay, do: but hark'e, Tom, be sure you take care of Snip.

Tom. I'll warrant your honour.

Sir H. I'll be down in the stables myself by and by. [Exit TOM.] Let me see-out of the famous l'antwivy by White Stockings; White Stockings his dam, full sister to the Proserpine Filly, and his sire-Pox on't, how unlucky it is, that this damn'd accident should happen in the Newmarket week! -ten to one I lose my match with Lord Choakjade, by not riding myself, and I shall have no opportunity to hedge my betts neither-what a damn'd piece of work have I made on'tI have knock'd up poor Snip, shall lose my match, and as to Harriot, why, the odds are, that I lose my match there too--a skittish young tit! If I once get her tight in hand, I'll make her wince for it. Her estate, join'd to my own, I would have the finest stud, and the noblest kennel, in the whole country.-But here comes her father,

puffing and blowing, like a broken-winded horse up hill.

Enter RUSSET.

Rus. Well, Sir Harry, have you heard any thing of her?

Sir H. Yes, I have been asking Tom about her, and he says, you may have her for five hundred guineas.

Rus. Five hundred guineas! how d'ye mean? where is she? which way did she take?

Sir H. Why, first she went to Epsom, then to Lincoln, then to Nottingham, and now she is at York.

Rus. Impossible! she could not go over half the ground in the time. What the devil are you talking of?

Sir H. Of the mare you was just now saying you wanted to buy.

Rus. The devil take the mare!—who would think of her, when I am mad about an affair of so much more consequence?

Sir H. You seemed mad about her a little while ago. She's a fine mare, and a thing of shape and blood.

Rus. Damn her blood!-Harriot! my dear provoking Harriot! Where can she be! Have you got any intelligence of her?

Sir H. No, faith, not I: we seem to be quite thrown out here-but however I have ordered Tom to try if he can hear any thing of her among the ostlers.

Rus. Why don't you enquire after her yourself? why don't you run up and down the whole town after her?--t'other young rascal knows where she is, I warrant you. -What a plague it is to have a daughter! When one loves her to distrac tion, and has toil'd and labour'd to make her happy, the ungrateful slut will sooner go to hell her own way-but she shall have him—I will make her happy, if I break her heart for it.—A provoking gipsy!-to run away, and torment her poor father, that dotes on her! I'll never see her face again.-Sir Harry, how can we get any intelligence of her? Why don't you speak! why don't you tell me!-Zounds! you seem as indifferent as if you did not care a farthing about her.

Sir H. Indifferent! you may well call me indifferent!--this damn'd chase after her will cost me a thousand--if it had not been for her, I would not have been off the course this week, to have saved the lives of my whole family— I'll hold you six to two that

Rus. Žounds! hold your tongue, or talk more to the purpose I swear, she is too good for you-you don't deserve such a wife-a fine, dear, sweet, lovely, charming girl!-She'll break my heart.-How shall I find her out!-Do, pr'ythee, Sir Harry, my dear honest friend, consider how we may discover where she is fled to.

Sir H. Suppose you put an advertisement into the newspapers, describing her marks, her age,

her height, and where she strayed from. I recover'd a bay mare once by that method.

Rus. Advertise her! What! describe my daughter and expose her in the public papers, with a reward for bringing her home, like horses stolen or stray'd!-recovered a bay mare the devil's in the fellow!--he thinks of nothing but racers, and bay mares, and stallions.'Sdeath! I wish your

Sir H. I wish Harriot was fairly pounded; it would save us both a deal of trouble.

Rus. Which way shall I turn myself?- -I am half distracted. If I go to that young dog's house, he has certainly conveyed her somewhere out of my reach—if she does not send to me today, I'll give her up for ever- -perhaps though she may have met with some accident, and has nobody to assist her.-No, she is certainly with that young rascal.-I wish she was dead, and I was dead-I'll blow young Oakly's brains out.

Enter TOM.

Sir H. Well, Tom, how is poor Snip? Tom. A little better, sir, after his warm mash: but Lady, the pointing bitch that followed you all the way, is deadly foot-sore.

Rus. Damn Snip and Lady!-have you heard any thing of Harriot?

Tom. Why I came on purpose to let my master and your honour know, that John Ostler says as how, just such a lady as I told him madam Harriot was, came here in a four-wheel chaise, and was fetch'd away soon after by a fine lady in a chariot.

Rus. Did she come alone?

Tom. Quite alone, only a servant maid, please

your honour.

Rus. And what part of the town did they go

to?

Tom. John Ostler says as how they bid the coachman drive to Grosvenor-square.

Sir H. Soho! puss- Yoics!

Rus. She is certainly gone to that young rogue -he has got his aunt to fetch her from hence, or else she is with her own aunt Lady Freelove -they both live in that part of the town. I'll go to his house, and in the mean while, Sir Harry, you shall step to Lady Freelove's. We'll find her, I warrant you. I'll teach my young mistress to be gadding. She shall marry you to-night. Come along, Sir Harry, come along; we won't lose a minute. Come along.

Sir H. Soho! hark forward! wind 'em and cross 'em! hark forward! Yoics! Yoics!

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.-Changes to OAKLY'S.

Enter Mrs OAKLY.

Mrs Oak. After all, that letter was certainly intended for my husband. I see plain enough they are all in a plot against me. My husband intriguing, the major working him up to affront me, Charles owning his letters, and so playing into each other's hands.--They think me a fool, I find—but I'll be too much for them yet

-I have desired to speak with Mr Oakly, and expect him here immediately. His temper is naturally open, and if he thinks my anger abated, and my suspicions laid asleep, he will certainly betray himself by his behaviour. I'll assume an air of good-humour, pretend to believe the fine story they have trumped up, throw him off his guard, and so draw the secret out of him. -Here he comes.-How hard it is to dissem ble one's anger! O, I could rate him soundly! but I'll keep down my indignation at present, though it chokes me.

Enter OAKLY.

O my dear! I am very glad to see you. Pray sit down. [They sit.] I longed to see you. It seemed an age till I had an opportunity of talking over the silly affair that happened this morning.

Oak. Why really, my dear

[Mildly.

Mrs Oak. Nay don't look so grave now. Come-it's all over. Charles and you have cleared up matters. I am satisfied.

Oak. Indeed! I rejoice to hear it! You make me happy beyond my expectation. This disposition will insure our felicity. Do but lay aside your cruel unjust suspicion, and we should never have the least difference.

Mrs Oak. Indeed I begin to think so. I'll endeavour to get the better of it. And really sometimes it is very ridiculous. My uneasiness this morning, for instance! ha, ha, ha! To be so much alarmed about that idle letter, which turned out quite another thing at last-was not I very angry with you? ha, ha, ha!

[Affecting a laugh. Oak. Don't mention it. Let us both forget it. Your present cheerfulness makes amends for every thing.

Mrs Oak. I am apt to be too violent: I love you too well to be quite easy about you. [Fondly.] -Well-no matter-what is become of Charles?

Oak. Poor fellow! he's on the wing, rambling all over the town in pursuit of this young lady. Mrs Oak. Where is he gone, pray?

Oak. First of all, I believe, to some of her re

lations.

Mrs Oak. Relations! Who are they? Where do they live?

Oak. There is an aunt of her's lives just in the neighbourhood, Lady Freelove.

Freelove's, is he?-and do you think he will hear Mrs Oak. Lady Freelove! Oho! gone to Lady any thing of her?

Oak. I don't know; but I hope so with all my

soul. Mrs Oak. Hope! with all your soul; do you hope so? [Alarmed. Oak. Hope so! ye-yes-why, don't you hope [Surprised.

so?

to be sure.

Mrs Oak. Well-yes-[Recovering]-O ay, my dear, it must give me great satisfaction, as well I hope it of all things. You know, as yourself, to see Charles well settled.

Oak. I should think so; and really I don't

[Confused.

Oak. What do you say, my dear? Mrs Oak. I say—a—a—[Stammering.] Is she handsome?

Oak. Prodigiously handsome indeed. Mrs Oak. Prodigiously handsome! and is she reckoned a sensible girl?

Oak. A very sensible, modest, agreeable young lady as ever I knew. You would be extremely fond of her, I am sure. You cann't imagine how happy I was in her company. Poor Charles ! she soon made a conquest of him, and no wonder, she has so many elegant accomplishments! such an infinite fund of cheerfulness and good humour! Why, she's the darling of the whole country.

Mrs Oak. Lord! you seem quite in raptures about her.

Oak. Raptures!--not at all. I was only telling you the young lady's character. I thought you would be glad to find that Charles had made so sensible a choice, and was so likely to be happy.

Mrs Oak. O, Charles! Truc, as you say, Charles will be mighty happy.

Oak. Don't you think so?

Mrs Ouk. I am convinced of it. Poor Charles! I am much concerned for him. He must be very uneasy about her. I was thinking whether we could be of any service to him in this affair.

Oak. Was you, my love? that is very good of you. Why to be sure, we must endeavour to assist him. Let me see; how can we manage it? Gad! I have hit it. The luckiest thought! and it will be of great service to Charles.

Mrs Oak. Well, what is it? [Eagerly.-You know I would do any thing to serve Charles, and oblige you. [Mildly. Oak. That is so kind! Lord, my dear, if you would but always consider things in this proper light, and continue this amiable temper, we should be the happiest people

Mrs Oak. I believe so: but what's your proposal?

Oak. I am sure you'll like it.-Charles, you know, may perhaps be so lucky as to meet with this lady

Mrs Oak. True.

you may take her under your protection till her father comes to town.

Mrs Oak. Amazing! this is even beyond my expectation.

Oak. Why!-what!

Mrs Oak. Was there ever such assurance! Take her under my protection! What! would you keep her under my nose?

Oak. Nay, I never conceived-I thought you would have approved

Mrs Oak. What! make me your convenient woman?—No place but my own house to serve your purposes?

Oak. Lord, this is the strangest misapprehension! I am quite astonished.

Mrs Oak. Astonished! yes-confused, detected, betrayed by your vain confidence of inposing on me. Why, sure you imagine me an idiot, a driveller. Charles, indeed! yes, Charles is a fine excuse for you. The letter this morning, the letter, Mr Oakly!

Oak. The letter! why, sure that

Mrs Oak. Is sufficiently explained. You have made it very clear to me. Now I am convinced. I have no doubt of your perfidy. But I thank you for some hints you have given me, and you may be sure I shall make use of them: nor will I rest, till I have full conviction, and overwhelm you with the strongest proof of your baseness towards me.

Oak. Nay, but

Mrs Oak. Go, go! I have no doubt of your falsehood: away! [Exit Mrs OAKLY. Oak. Was there ever any thing like this? Such unaccountable behaviour! angry I don't know why! jealous of I know not what! pretending to be satisfied merely to draw me in, and then creating imaginary proofs out of an innocent conversation!--Hints!-hints I have given her!What can she mean?

TOILET crossing the Stage. Toilet! where are you going?

Toilet. To order the porter to let in no company to my lady to-day. She won't see a single soul, sir.

[Exit. Oak. What an unhappy woman! Now will she sit all day feeding on her suspicions, till she has convinced herself of the truth of them.

Mrs Oak. Well!

Oak. Bring her home here.

Mrs Oak. How?

Oak. Yes, bring her home here, my dear !-it will make poor Charles's mind quite easy and

SCENE III.-Lady FREELOVE'S House. Enter Lady FREELOVE with a card—Servant

following.

L. Free. [Reading as she enters.]—“ And will ·

Enter HART.

Well, Harriot, still in the pouts! nay, pr'ythee, my dear little run-away girl, be more cheerful! your everlasting melancholy puts me into the vapours.

Har. Dear madam, excuse me. How can I be cheerful in my present situation? I know my father's temper so well, that I am sure this step of mine must almost distract him. I sometimes wish that I had remained in the country, let what would have been the consequence,

L. Free. Why, it is a naughty child, that's certain; but it need not be so uneasy about papa, as you know that I wrote by last night's post to acquaint him that his little lost sheep was safe, and that you are ready to obey his cominands in every particular, except marrying that oaf, Sir Harry Beagle.-Lord! Lord! what a difference there is between a country and town education! Why, a London lass would have jumped out of a window into a gallant's arms, and without thinking of her father, unless it were to have drawn a few bills on him, been an hundred miles off, in nine or ten hours, or perhaps out of the kingdom in twenty-four.

Har. I fear I have already been too precipitate. I tremble for the consequences.

L. Free. I swear, child, you are a downright prude. Your way of talking gives me the spleen; 30 full of affection, and duty, and virtue, 'tis just like a funeral sermon. And yet, pretty soul! it can love. Well, I wonder at your taste; a sneaking simple gentleman! without a title ! and when, to my knowledge, you might have a man of quality to-morrow.

Har. Perhaps so. Your ladyship must excuse me, but many a man of quality would make me miserable.

459

L. Free. Indeed, my dear, these antediluvian notions will never do now-a-days; and at the same time too, those little wicked eyes of yours speak a very different language. Indeed you have with Lord Trinket. fine eyes, child! And they have made fine work

Har. Lord Trinket!

[Contemptuously.

L. Free. Yes, Lord Trinket: you know it as well as I do, and yet, you ill-natured thing, you will not vouchsafe him a single smile. But you must give the poor soul a little encouragement, pr'ythee do.

Har. Indeed I cann't, madam, for of all mankind Lord Trinket is my aversion.

bred, sensible young fellow, and the women all L. Free. Why so, child? He is counted a wellthink him handsome.

Hur. Yes, he is just polite enough to be able breeding; is just handsome enough to make him to be very unmannerly with a great deal of good reflection enough to finish him for a coxcomb; most excessively vain of his person; and has just qualifications, which are all very common among those whom your ladyship calls men of quality.

L. Free. A satirist too! Indeed, my dear, this affectation sits very awkwardly upon you. There will be a superiority in the behaviour of persons of fashion.

Har. A superiority, indeed! For his lordship always behaves with so much insolent familiarity, that I should almost imagine he was soliciting me for other favours, rather than to pass my whole life with him.

L. Free. Innocent freedoms, child, which every fine woman expects to be taken with her, as an acknowledgment of her beauty.

Har. They are freedoms, which, I think, no innocent woman can allow.

L. Free. Romantic to the last degree!-Why, you are in the country still, Harriot.

Enter Servant.