often already, we have nothing but earthquakes, famines, plagues, and mad dogs, from year's end to year's end. You remember, sir, it is not above a month ago, you assured us of a conspiracy among the bakers, to poison us in our bread; and so kept the whole family a week upon pota

toes.

Cro. And potatoes were too good for them.But why do I stand here talking with a girl, when I should be facing the enemy without? Here, John, Nicodemus, search the house. Look into the cellars, to see if there be any combustibles below; and above, in the apartments, that no matches be thrown in at the windows. Let all the fires be put out, and let the engine be drawn out in the yard, to play upon the house in case of necessity. [Exit.

Miss Rich. What can be mean by all this? Yet, why should I enquire, when he alarms us in this manner almost every day! But Honeywood has desired an interview with me in private. What can he mean; or, rather, what means this palpitation at his approach? It is the first time he ever shewed any thing in his conduct that seem'd particular. Sure he cannot mean to-but he's here.

Enter HONEYWOOD.

Hon. I presumed to solicit this interview, madam, before I left town, to be permitted

I

Miss Rich. Indeed! leaving town, sir?— Hon. Yes, madam: perhaps the kingdom. have presumed, I say, to desire the favour of this interview-in order to disclose something which ur long friendship prompts. And yet my fears

Miss Rich. His fears! What are his fears to mine! [Aside.] We have indeed been long acquainted, sir; very long. If I remember, our first meeting was at the French ambassador's.-Do you recollect how you were pleased to rally me upon my complexion there?

Hon. Perfectly, madam ; I presumed to reprove you for painting: but your warmer blushes soon convinced the company that the colouring was all from nature.

your

Miss Rich. And yet you only meant it, in good-natured way, to make me pay a compliment to myself. In the same manner you danced that night with the most awkward woman in company, because you saw nobody else would take her out.

Hon. Yes; and was rewarded the next night, by dancing with the finest woman in company, whom every body wish'd to take out.

Miss Rich. Well, sir, if you thought so then, I fear your judgment has since corrected the errors of a first impression. We generally shew to most advantage at first. Our sex are like poor tradesmen, that put all their best goods to be seen at the windows.

Hon. The first impression, madam, did indeed deceive me. I expected to find a woman with all the faults of conscious flattered beauty. I expect ed to find her vain and insolent. But every day has since taught me that it is possible to possess

sense without pride, and beauty without affectation.

Miss Rich. This, sir, is a style very unusual with Mr Honeywood; and I should be glad to know why he thus attempts to increase that vanity, which his own lessons have taught me to despise.

Hon. I ask pardon, madam. Yet, from our long friendship, I presumed I might have some right to offer, without offence, what you may refuse without offending.

Miss Rich. Sir! I beg you'd reflect; though, I fear, I shall scarce have any power to refuse a request of yours; yet you may be precipitate: consider, sir.

Hon. I own my rashness: but, as I plead the cause of friendship, of one who loves-Don't be alarmed, madam-Who loves you with the most ardent passion; whose whole happiness is placed in you

Miss Rich. I fear, sir, I shall never find whom you mean, by this description of him.

Hon. Ah, madam, it but too plainly points him out; though he should be too humble himself to urge his pretensions, or you too modest to understand them.

Miss Rich. Well; it would be affectation any longer to pretend ignorance; and, I will own, sir, I have long been prejudiced in his favour. It was but natural to wish to make his heart mine, as he seem'd himself ignorant of its value.

Hon. I see she always loved him. [Aside] I find, madam, you're already sensible of his worth, his passion. How happy is my friend, to be the favourite of one with such sense to distinguish merit, and such beauty to reward it.

Miss Rich. Your friend! sir. What friend? Hon. My best friend-My friend Mr Lofty, madam.

Miss Rich. He, sir!

Hon. Yes, he, madam. He is, indeed, what your warmest wishes might have form'd him. And to his other qualities, he adds that of the most passionate regard for you.

Miss Rich. Amazement !-No more of this, I beg you, sir.

Hon. I see your confusion, madam, and know how to interpret it. And, since I so plainly read the language of your heart, shall I make my friend happy, by communicating your sentiments? Miss Rich. By no means.

it.

Hon. Excuse me; I must; I know you desire

Miss Rich. Mr Honeywood, let me tell you, that you wrong my sentiments and yourself. When I first applied to your friendship, I expected advice and assistance; but now, sir, I see that it is vain to expect happiness from him, who has been so bad an economist of his own; and that I must disclaim his friendship, who ceases to be a friend to himself.

[Exit.

Hon. How is this! she has confess'd he loved hint, and yet she seemed to part in displeasure. Can I have done any thing to reproach myself with? No; I believe not; yet, after all, these things should

not be done by a third person; I should have spared her confusion. My friendship carried me a little too far.

Enter CROAKER, with the letter in his hand, and Mrs CROAKER.

Mrs Cro. Ha, ha, ha! And so, my dear, it's your supreme wish that I should be quite wretched upon this occasion? Ha, ha.

Cro. [Mimicking.] Ha, ha, ha! and so, my dear, it's your supreme pleasure to give me no better consolation?

Mrs Cro. Positively, my dear: what is this incendiary stuff and trumpery to me? Our house may travel through the air like the house of Loretto, for aught I care, if I'm to be miserable in it.

Cro. Would to Heaven it were converted into an house of correction for your benefit. Have we not every thing to alarm us? Perhaps this very moment the tragedy is beginning.

Mrs Cro. Then let us reserve our distress till the rising of the curtain, or give them the money they want, and have done with them. !-And pray, what

Cro. Give them my money right have they to my money? Mrs Cro. And pray, what right then have you to my good humour?

Cro. And so your good humour advises me to part with my money? Why then, to tell your good humour a piece of my mind, I'd sooner part with my wife. Here's Mr Honeywood, see what he'll say to it. My dear Honeywood, look at this incendiary letter dropped at my door. It will freeze you with terror; and yet lovey here can read it, and laugh.

Mrs Cro. Yes, and so will Mr Honeywood. Cro. If he does, I'll suffer to be hanged the next minute in the rogue's place, that's all.

Mrs Cro. Speak, Mr Honeywood; is there any thing more foolish than my husband's fright upon this occasion?

Hon. It would not become me to decide, madam; but, doubtless, the greatness of his terrors now will but invite them to renew their villainy another time.

Mrs Cro. I told you he'd be of my opinion. Cro. How, sir! do you maintain that I should lie down under such an injury, and shew, neither by my tears or complaints, that I have something of the spirit of a man in me?

Hon. Pardon me, sir. You ought to make the loudest complaints, if you desire redress. The surest way to have redress, is to be earnest in the pursuit of it.

Cro. Ay, whose opinion is he of now? Mrs Cro. But don't you think that laughing off our fears is the best way?

Hon. What is the best, madam, few can say; but I'll maintain it to be a very wise way.

Gro. But we are talking of the best. -Surely

Hon. Why, sir, as to the best, that—that's a very wise way too.

Mrs Cro. But can any thing be more absurd, than to double our distresses by our apprehensions, and put it in the power of every low fellow, that can scrawl ten words of wretched spelling, to torment us?

Hon. Without doubt; nothing more absurd. Cro. How! would it not be more absurd to despise the rattle till we are bit by the snake? Hon. Without doubt, perfectly absurd. Cro. Then you are of my opinion? Hon. Entirely.

Mrs Cro. And you reject mine?

Hon. Heavens forbid, madam! No, sure no reasoning can be more just than yours. We ought certainly to despise malice, if we cannot oppose it, and not make the incendiary's pen as fatal to our repose as the highwayman's pistol.

Mrs Cro. O then you think I'm quite right? Hon. Perfectly right.

Cro. A plague of plagues! we cann't be both right.- -I ought to be sorry, or I ought to be glad. My hat must be on my head, or my hat must be off.

Mrs Cro. Certainly, in two opposite opinions, if one be perfectly reasonable, the other cann't be perfectly right.

Hon. And why may not both be right, madam? Mr Croaker in earnestly seeking redress, and you in waiting the event with good humour. Pray let me see the letter again. I have it. This letter requires twenty guineas to be left at the bar of the Talbot inn. If it be indeed an incendiary letter, what if you and I, sir, go there; and, when the writer comes to be paid his expected booty, seize

him?

Cro. My dear friend, it's the very thing; the very thing.While I walk by the door, you shall plant yourself in ambush near the bar; burst out upon the miscreant like a masked battery; extort a confession at once, and so hang him up by surprise.

Hon. Yes; but I would not choose to exercise too much severity. It is my maxim, sir, that crimes generally punish themselves.

Cro. Well, but we may upbraid him a little, I suppose? [Ironically. Hon. Ay, but not punish him too rigidly. Cro. Well, well, leave that to my own benevo lence.

Hon. Well, I do : but remember that universal benevolence is the first law of nature.

[Exeunt HONEYWOOD and Mrs CROAKER. Cro. Yes; and my universal benevolence will hang the dog, if he had as many necks as a hydia.

[Exit.

SCENE I.-An Inn.

Enter OLIVIA and JARVIS.

Oliv. Well, we have got safe to the inn, how ever. Now, if the post-chaise were ready―― Jar. The horses are just finishing their oats; and, as they are not going to be married, they

choose to take their own time.

Oliv. You are for ever giving wrong motives to my impatience.

Jar. Be as impatient as you will, the horses must take their own time; besides, you don't consider we have got no answer from our fellowtraveller yet. If we hear nothing from Mr Leontine, we have only one way left us.

Oliv. What way?

Jar. The way home again.

Oliv. Not so. I have made a resolution to go, and nothing shall induce me to break it.

Jar. Ay, resolutions are well kept when they jump with inclination. However, I'll go hasten things without. And I'll call too at the bar to see if any things should be left for us there. Don't be in such a plaguy hurry, madam, and we shall go the faster, I promise you. [Exit JARVIS.

Land. I find, as you're for Scotland, madamBut that's no business of mine; married, or not married, I ask no questions. To be sure, we had a sweet little couple set off from this two days ago for the same place. The gentleman, for a tailor, was, to be sure, as fine a spoken tailor as ever blew froth from a full pot, and the young lady so bashful, it was near half an hour before we could get her to finish a pint of raspberry be

could not help coming to see you set out, though it exposes us to a discovery.

Olin. May every thing you do prove as fortunate. Indeed, Leontine, we have been most cruelly disappointed. Mr Honeywood's bill upon the city has, it seems, been protested, and we have been utterly at a loss how to proceed.

Leo. How! An offer of his own too. Sure,

he could not mean to deceive us.

Oliv. Depend upon his sincerity; he only mistook the desire for the power of serving us. But let us think no more of it. I believe the postchaise is ready by this.

Land. Not quite yet: and, begging your ladyship's pardon, I don't think your ladyship quite ready for the post-chaise. The north road is a cold place, madam. I have a drop in the house of as pretty raspberry as ever was tipt over tongue. Just a thimble-full to keep the wind off your stomach. To be sure, the last couple we had here, they said it was a perfect nosegay. Ecod, I sent them both away as good-natured-Up went the blinds, round went the wheels, and drive away, ost-boy, was the word.

Enter CROAKER.

Cro. Well, while my friend Honeywood is upon the post of danger at the bar, it must be my business to have an eye about me here. I think I know an incendiary's look; for, wherever the devil makes a purchase, he never fails to set his mark. Ha! who have we here? My son and daughter! What can they be doing here?

Land. I tell you, madam, it will do you good; I think I know by this time what's good for the north road. It's a raw night, madam.—Sir

Leo. Not a drop more, good madam. I should now take it as a greater favour if you hasten the horses, for I am afraid to be seen myself.

Land. That shall be done. Wha, Solomon! are you all dead there? Wha, Solomon, I say.

[Exit bawling.

Oliv. Well, I dread least an expedition begun in fear should end in repentance. Every moment we stay increases our danger, and adds to my apprehensions.

Leo. There's no danger, trust me, my dear; there can be none: if Honeywood has acted with honour, and kept my father, as he promised, in employment till we are out of danger, nothing can interrupt our journey.

Oliv. I have no doubt of Mr Honeywood's sincerity, and even his desires to serve us. My fears are from your father's suspicions. A mind so disposed to be alarmed without a cause, will be but too ready when there's a reason.

Leo. Why, let him, when we are out of his power. But, believe me, Olivia, you have no great reason to dread his resentiment. His re

pining temper, as it does no manner of injury to himself, so will it never do harm to others. He only frets to keep himself employed, and scolds for his private amusement.

Oliv. I don't know that; but am sure, on some occasions, it makes him look most shockingly. Cro. [Discovering himself.] How does he look now-How does he look now?

Oliv. Ah!

Leo. Undone !

Cro. How do I look now? Sir, I am your very humble servant. Madam, I am yours. What, you are going off, are you? Then, first, if you please, take a word or two from me with you before you go. Tell me first where you are going? and when you have told me that, perhaps, I shall know as little as I did before.

Leo. If that be so, our answer might but increase your displeasure, without adding to your information.

Cro. I want no information from you, puppy: and you too, good madam, what answer have you got? Eh, [A cry without, stop him!] I think I heard a noise. My friend, Honeywood, without-has he seized the incendiary? Ah, no, for now I hear no more on't.

Leo. Honeywood without! Then, sir, it was Mr Honeywood that directed you hither?

Cro. No, sir, it was Mr Honeywood conducted me hither.

Leo. Is it possible?

Cro. Possible! Why, he's in the house now, sir. More anxious about me than my own son, sir. Leo. Then, sir, he's a villain.

Cro. How, sirrah! a villain, because he takes most care of your father? I'll not bear it. I tell you I'll not bear it. Honeywood is a friend to the family, and I'll have him treated as such.

Leo. I shall study to repay his friendship as it deserves.

Cro. Ah, rogue, if you knew how earnestly he entered into my griefs, and pointed out the means to detect them, you would love him as I do. [Acry without, stop him! Fire and fury! they have seiz. ed the incendiary: they have the villain, the incendiary in view. Stop him, stop an incendiary, a murderer; stop him! [Exit. Oliv. Oh, my terrors! What can this new tumult mean?

Leo. Some new mark, I suppose, of Mr Honeywood's sincerity. But we shall have satisfaction: he shall give me instant satisfaction.

Oliv. It must not be, my Leontine, if you value my esteem, or my happiness. Whatever be our fate, let us not add guilt to our misfortunes-Consider that our innocence will shortly be all we have left us. You must forgive him.

Leo. Forgive him! Has he not in every instance betrayed us? Forced me to borrow money from him, which appears a mere trick to delay us: promised to keep my father engaged till we were out of danger, and here brought him to the very scene of our escape!

Oliv. Don't be precipitate. We may yet be mistaken.

Enter Post-Boy, dragging in JARVIS: HONEYWOOD entering soon after.

Post. Ay, master, we have him fast enough. Here is the incendiary dog. I'm entitled to the reward; I'll take my oath I saw him ask for the money at the bar, and then run for it.

Hon. Come, bring him along. Let us see him. Let him learn to blush for his crimes. [Discovering his mistake.] Death! what's here! Jarvis, Leontine, Olivia! What can all this mean?

Jar. Why, I'll tell you what it means that I was an old fool, and that you are my master-that's

all.

Hon. Confusion!

Leo. Yes, sir, I find you have kept your word with me. After such baseness, I wonder how you can venture to see the man you have injured.

Hon. My dear Leontine, by my life, my honourLeo. Peace, peace, for shame! and do not continue to aggravate baseness by hypocrisy. I know you, sir, I know you.

Hon. Why, won't you hear me? By all that's just, I knew not

Leo. Hear you, sir! to what purpose? I now see through all your low arts; your ever complying with every opinion; your never refusing any request; your friendship as common as a prostitute's favours, and as fallacious; all these, sir, have long been contemptible to the world, and are now perfectly so to me.

Hon. Ha! contemptible to the world! That reaches me. Aside. Leo. All the seeming sincerity of your professions I now find were only allurements to betray; and all your seeming regret for their conséquences only calculated to cover the cowardice of your heart, Draw, villain!

Enter CROAKER, out of Breath.

Cro. Where is the villain? Where is the incendiary? [Seizing the Post-Boy.] Hold him fast, the dog: he has the gallows in his face. Come, you dog, confess; confess all, and hang yourself. Post. Zounds, master! what do you throttle me for?

Cro. [Beating him.] Dog, do you resist; do you resist?

Post. Zounds, master! I'm not he; there's the man that we thought was the rogue, and turns out to be one of the company.

Cro. How!

Hon. Mr Creaker, we have all been under a strange mistake here; I find there is nobody guilty; it was all an error; entirely an error of our own.

Cro. And I say, sir, that you're in an error; for there's guilt and double guilt, a plot, a damn'd jesuitical pestilential plot, and I must have proof of it. Hon. Do but hear me.

Cro. What, you intend to bring 'em off, I suppose; I'll hear nothing.

Hon. Madam, you seem at least calm enough to hear reason.