Glib. I hope, Mr. Hopkins, that nobody has got secretly into the house; I would have none but friends at the first rehearsal.

[Looking round the house.

Hop. You see the house is quite clear, sir. Glib. I would not have the town have the least idea of my performance before hand-I would open a mask battery of entertainment upon the public.

Hop. You'll surprise them, I believe, sir! Glib. Pray be so good as to ring down the curtain, that we may rehearse in form-So, so, so! very well; and now I'll say a word or two to the [Curtain drops.] gentlemen in the orchestra-Gentlemen, [To the orchestra.]I shall take it as a particular favour, if you would be careful of your pianos and fortes; they are the light and shade, and without them music is all noise, and singing nothing but bawling

Musician.-[From the orchestra.]-I don't quite understand this movementIs it allegro, sir?

Glib. Allegro, spiritoso! Flash, flash, fire! my friends-you gentlemen haut-boys, take particular care of your little solos-You, bassoons, support them, con gusto-not too powerfully

mind a delicacy of feeling in your second movement-Make yourselves ready gentlemen

-Shoulder your fiddles-cock your bowsand the moment I vanish, fire away, crash! I leave my fame in your hands-my lady-Sir Toby, are you got round? O, very well! I see you Don't forget a cordial now and then for the poor author.

[Speaking to the audience, and making a
sign of clapping.
[During the burletto, GIIB, the author,
"goes out and comes in several times upon
the stage, and speaks occasionally to the
performers, as his fancy prompts him,
in order to enliven the action, und give
a proper comic spirit to the perform-
ance.]

Orph.

Pray cease your pathetic,
And I'll be prophetic;

Two ladies at once in my house,

Two cats they will be,
And mumble poor me;

The poor married man is the mouse.

Rho. Yet hear me ! Orpheus, can you be
So vulgar as to part from me,
And fetch your wife?- -am Iforsaken?
O give me back what you have taken!
In vain I rave, my fate deplore,
A ruin'd maid is maid no more ;
Your love alone is reputation,
Give me but that, and this for reputa-
[Snaps her fingers.

tion.

AIR.

One medicine cures the gout,
Another cures a cold,

This can drive your passions out,
Nay, even cure a scold.
Have you gout or vapours,
I in sleep

Your senses steep,

Or make your legs cut capers.

DUETTO-Accompanied with the lyre.

Rho. I cannot have my swing,
Orph. Ting, ting, ting,

Rho. My tongue has lost its twang,
Orph. Tung, tang, tang.

Rho. My eyes begin to twinkle,
Orph. Tinkle, tinkle, tinkle.
Rho. My hands dingle, dangle.
Orph. Tangle, tangle, tangle.
Rho. My spirits sink,
Orph. Tink, tink, tink.
Rho. Alas, my tongue!
Orph. Tang, tung, tong.
Rho. Now 'tis all o'er,

Orph.

I can no more,

But-go-to-sleep-and--s

-sno-o-re.

[Sinks by degrees upon a couch, and falls

asleep.

SCENE II.-Changes to a mountainous country; cows, sheep, goats, &c.

After a sort symphony-Enter ORPHEUS,
playing upon his lyre.

AIR.

Thou dear companion of my life,
My friend, my mistress, and my wife,

Enter PATENT.

There, Mr. Manager, is an end of an act-Every beast upon his hind-legs!-I did intend, that houses and trees (according to the old story) should have joined in the dance; but it would have crowded the stage too much.

Pat. Full enough as it is, Mr. Glib. Lady Fuz. [Without.] Let me come, let me come, I say!

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

Enter LADY FUZ.

Lady Fuz. These are fine doings; fine doings, Mr. Glib!

Glib. And a fine effect they will have, my lady; particularly the dancing off of the beasts. Lady Fuz. Yes, yes; they have danced off, but they shall dance back again take my word for it. [Walks about. Glib. My dear lady, and so they shall; don't be uneasy; they shall dance back again directly —here, prompter, I intended to have the scene over again; I could see it for ever.

Lady Fuz. Was this your plot, Mr. Glib? Or your contrivance, Mr. Manager?

Pat. Madam !

Glib. No, upon my soul! 'tis all my own contrivance; not a thought stole from ancient, or modern; all my own plot!

Sir Toby. Let us dine first, my dear, and I'll go wherever you please.

Lady Fuz. Dine, dine! Did you ever hear the like? you have no more feeling, Sir Toby, than your periwig.-I shall go distracted! the greatest curse of a poor woman is, to have a flighty daughter, and a sleepy husband. [Exit LADY Fuz. Sir Toby. And the greatest curse of a poor man is, to have every body flighty in his family but himself. [Exit.

Enter PATENT.

Pat. "Tis true, Mr. Glib, the young lady is gone off, but with nobody that belongs to us'tis a dreadful affair!

Glib. So it is, faith! to spoil my rehearsal-I think it was very ungenteel of her, to choose this morning for her pranks. Though she might make free with her father and mother, she should have more manners than to treat me so; I'll tell her as much when I see her. The second act shall be ready for you next week-I depend upon you for a prologue-your genius

Pat. You are too polite, Mr. Glib-have you an epilogue?

Glib. I have a kind of address here, by way of epilogue, to the town-I suppose it to be spoken by myself, as the author-who have you can represent me?-no easy task, let me tell you he must be a little smart, degagee, and not

want assurance.

Glib. Impudence!may I die, if I know an indecent expression in the whole piece! Pat. Your passion, madam, runs away with you; I don't understand you.

Lady Fuz. No, sir! 'tis one of your stageplayers has run away with my daughter; and I'll be revenged on you all;-I'll shut up your house!

Pat. This must be inquired into. [Exit PATENT. Glib. What! did Miss Fuz run away without seeing Orpheus?

Lady Fuz. Don't say a word more, thou blockhead!

Glib. I am dumb, but no blockhead!

Enter SIR TOBY, in confusion.

Sir Toby. What is all this? what is it all about?

Lady Fuz. Why, it is all your fault, Sir Toby! had not you been asleep, she could never have been stolen from your side.

Sir Toby. How do you know she is stolen? Enquire first, my lady, and be in a passion after

wards.

the

Glib. Thank, thank you! dear Mr. Patentvery man-is he in the house? I would read it to him.

Pat. O no! since the audience received him in Linco, he is practising music, whenever he is not wanted here.

Glib. I have heard as much; and that he continually sets his family's teeth on edge, with scraping upon the fiddle.-Conceit, conceit, Mr. Patent, is the ruin of them all. I could wish, whan he speaks this address, that he would be more easy in his carriage, and not have that damned jerk in his bow, that he generally treats us with.

Pat. I'll hint as much to him.

Glib. This is my conception of the matter;Bow your body gently, turn your head semicircularly, on one side and the other; and, smiling thus, agreeably begin:

All fable is fiction-I, your bard, will main

tain it;

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 require,

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.