Enter Coachman, Cook, KINGSTON, and CLOE. I'll couple you-My lord duke will take Kitty; Lady Bab will do me the honour of her hand; Sir Harry and Lady Charlotte; Coachman and Cook, and the two devils dance together; ha, ha, ha! Duke. With submission, the country dances by-and-by.

Lady Char. Ay, aye; French dances before supper, and country-dances after. I beg the duke and Mrs. Kitty may give us a minuet.

Duke. Dear Lady Charlotte, consider my poor gout-Sir Harry will oblige us. [SIR HARRY bows. All. Minuet, Sir Harry! minuet, Sir Harry! Fid. What minuet would your honour please to have?

Kit. What minuet? let me see; play Marshal Thingumbob's minuet.

[A minuet by SIR HARRY and KITTY, aukward and conceited.

Lady Char. Mrs. Kitty dances sweetly. Phi. And Sir Harry delightfully. Duke. Well enough for a commoner. Phi. Come, now to supper. A gentleman and a lady here, Fiddler-[Gives money.]-wait without.

Fid. Yes, an't please your honour.

[Exit, with a tankard. Phi. [They sit down.]-We will set the wine on the table- -Here is claret, burgundy, and champagne, and a bottle of tokay for the ladies. There are tickets on every bottle-If any gentleman chooses port

Duke. 'Tis only fit for a dram.

Kit. Lady Bab, what shall I send you? Lady Charlotte, pray be free: the more free the more welcome, as they say in my country. The gentlemen will be so good as to take care of themselves.

[A pause.

Duke. Lady Charlotte, hob or nob! Lady Char. Done, my lord; in Burgundy, if you please.

Duke. Here's your sweetheart and mine, and the friends of the company.

[They drink. A pause. Phi. Come, ladies and gentlemen, a bumper all round-I have a health for you-Here is to the amendment of our masters and mistresses.

All. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! Phi. My lord duke, your toast. Duke. Lady Betty

[Loud laugh.

Phi. Ob no; a health and a sentiment.
Duke. A health and a sentiment! No, no;

let us have a song. Sir Harry, your song

Sir Har. Would you have it? Well, thenMrs. Kitty, we must call upon you. Will you honour my muse?

All. A song, a song! ay, ay; Sir Harry's song! Sir Harry's song!

Duke. A song, to be sure; but first, preludo[Kisses KITTY.]--Pray, gentleman, put it about. [Kissing round-KINGSTON kisses CLOE heartily.

Sir Har. See how the devils kiss!

Kit. I'm really hoarse; but-hem-I must clear up my pipes-hem-this is Sir Harry's song being a new song, intitled and called, The Fellow Servant; or, All in a Livery.-- [Sings.

Then we'll drink like our betters, and laugh, sing, and love,

And when sick of one place, to another we'll

move;

For, with little and great, the best joy is to rove.
Chorus. Both high and low in this do agree,
That 'tis here, fellow-servant,
And there, fellow-servant,
And all in a livery.

Phi. How do you like it, my lord duke?
Duke. It is a damned vile composition !
Phi. How so?

Duke. O very low! very low, indeed!
Sir Har. Can you make it better?
Duke. I hope so.

very

conceited.

Sir Har. That is Duke. What is conceited, you scoundrel? Sir Har. Scoundrel! You are a rascal; I'll pull you by the nose. [All rise. Duke. Look ye, friend, don't give yourself airs, and make a disturbance among the ladies -If you are a gentleman, name your weapons. Sir Har. Weapons! What you will-Pistols

Duke. Done-behind Montague-house.
Sir Har. Done-with seconds!
Duke. Done!

Phi. Oh, for shame, gentlemen! My lord duke-Sir Harry, the ladies! fie!

[Duke and SIR HARRY affect to sing. Phi. [A violent knocking.] What the devil can that be, Kitty?

Kit. Who can it possibly be?

Phi. Kingston, run up stairs and peep. [Exit KINGSTON. It sounds like my master's rapPray Heaven, it is not he.

Phi. Away with the wine! Away with the plate! Here, Coachman, Cook, Cloe, Kingston, bear a hand! out with the candles!- -Away, away! [They carry away the table, &c. Visitors. What shall we do? What shall we do? [They all run about in confusion.

Kit. Run up stairs, ladies!

Phi. No, no, no! He'll see you, thenSir Har. What the devil had I to do here?

Kit. No, no! do you put their ladyships into the pantry, and I'll take his grace into the coal

hole.

Visitors. Any where, any where—up the chimney, if you will.

Phi. There, in with you!

[They all go into the pantry. Lov. [Without.] Philip, Philip!

Phi. Coming, sir! [Aloud.] Kitty, have you never a good book to be reading of? Kit. Yes, here is one.

Phi. Egad, this is black Monday with us. Sit down-Seem to read your book- -Here he is, as drunk as a piper[They sit down.

Enter LovEL, with pistols, affecting to be drunk; FREEMAN following.

Lov. Philip, the son of Alexander the Great, where are all my myrmidons? What the devil makes you up so early in the morning?

Phi. He is very drunk, indeed. [Aside.] Mrs. Kitty and I had got into a good book, your ho

nour.

Phi. Accounts, sir! To-night?

Lov. Yes, to-night-I find myself perfectly clear-You shall see I'll settle them in a twinkling.

Phi. Your honour will go into the parlour?
Lov. No, I'll settle them all here-
Kit. Your honour must not sit here.
Lov. Why not?

Kit. You will certainly take cold, sir; the room has not been washed above an hour.

Lov. What a cursed lie that is! [Aside. Duke. Philip, Philip, Philip! [Peeping out. Phi. Pox take you! hold your tongue

[Aside. Free. You have just nicked them in the very minute. [Aside to LovEL.

Lov. I find I have; mum. [Aside to FREEMAN.] Get some wine, Philip. [Exit PHILIP.] Though I must eat something before I drink; Kitty, what have you got in the pantry?

Kit. In the pantry? Lard, your honour! we are at board wages

Duke. Pox take it, face it out.

[Somebody in the pantry sneezes. Kit. We are undone! undone ! [Aside. Phi. Oh, that is the duke's damned rapce! Aside.

Lov. Did not you hear a noise, Charles? Free. Somebody sneezed, I thought. Lov. Damn it, there are thieves in the house -I'll be among them. [Takes a pistol. Kit. Lack-a-day, sir! it was only the cat; they sometimes sneezes for all the world, like a christian; here, Jack, Jack! he has got cold, sir -Puss-Puss

Lov. A cold: then, I'll cure him. Here Jack, Jack; Puss, Puss

Kit. Your honour won't be so rash-Pray, your honour, don't[Opposing. Lov. Stand off! here, Freeman? here's a barrel for business, with a brace of slugs, and well primed, as you see-Freemau, I'll hold you five to four; nay, I'll hold you two to one, I hit the cat through the key-hole of that pantry-door.

Free. Try, try; but I think it impossible. Lov. I am a damned good marksman.[Cocks the pistol, and points it to the pantry door.] Now, for it! [A violent shriek, and all discovered.] Who the devil are these?- -One, two-three-four

Phi. They are particular friends of mine, sir; servants to some noblemen in the neighbourhood. Lov. I told you there were thieves in the house.

Phi. Your honour is at present in liquor; but, in the morning, when your honour is recovered, I will set all to rights again.

Lov. [Changing his countenance.] We'll set all to rights now-There, I am sober, at your service. What have you to say, Philip? [PHILIP starts.] You may well start-Go, get out of my sight!

Duke. Sir, I have not the honour to be known to you, but I have the honour to serve his grace the Duke of-

Lov. And the impudence, familiarity to assume his title? Your Grace will give me leave to tell you, that is the door; and, if you ever enter there again, I assure you, my lord duke, I will break every bone in your lordship's skin !— Begone! Duke. [Aside.] Low-bred fellows! [Exit. Lov. I beg your ladyship's pardon; perhaps, they can't go without chairs-ha, ha, ha! Free. Ha, ha, ha! [SIR HARRY steals off. Lady Char. This comes of visiting commoners.

[Exit.

Tom, I respect and value you; you are an honest servant, and shall never want encouragement— Be so good, Tom, as to see that gentleman out of my house, [Points to PHILIP.] and then take charge of the cellar and plate.

Tom. I thank your honour; but I would not rise on the ruin of a fellow-servant.

Lov. No remonstrances, Tom; it shall be as I say.

Phi. What a cursed fool have I been! [Exeunt Servants. Love. Well, Charles, I must thank for my you frolic: it has been an wholesome one to me; have I done right?

Free. Entirely: No judge could have determined better. As you punish the bad, it was but justice to reward the good.

Love. A faithful servant is a worthy charac

Free. And can never receive too much encouragement.

Lov. Right!

Free. You have made Tom very happy. Lov. And I intend to make your Robert so too. Every honest servant should be made happy.

Free. But what an insufferable piece of assurance is it in some of these fellows to affect and imitate their masters' manners?

Lov. What manners must those be which they can imitate? Free. True.

Lov. If persons of rank would act up to their standard, it would be impossible that their servants could ape them; but when they affect every thing that is ridiculous, it will be in the power of any low creature to follow their example. [Exeunt omnes.

SCENE I.--CARMINE's Painting Room.

Enter CARMINE, followed by the Boy. Car. Lay these colours in the window, by the pallet. Any visitors, or messages?

Boy. 'Squire Feltree has been here, and insists upon Miss Racket's picture being immediately finished and carried home-As to his wife and children, he says, you may take your own time.

Car. Well

Boy. Here has been a message too from my Lady Pen-I can't remember her name, but 'tis upon the slate. She desires to know if you will be at home about noon,

Car. Fetch it. [Exit Boy.] Was the whole of our profession confined to the mere business of it, the employment would be pleasing as well as profitable; but, as matters are now managed, the art is the last thing to be regarded. Family

connections, private recommendations, and an easy, genteel method of flattering, is to supply the delicacy of a Guido, the colouring of a Rubens, and the design of a Raphael—all their qualities, centering in one man, without the first requisite, would be useless; and, with these, not one of these is necessary.

Enter Boy, with the slate.

Car. Let's sec-Oh! lady Pentweazel from Blow-bladder-street-Admit her, by all means! and if Puff or Varnish should come, I am at home. [Exit Boy.] Lady Pentweazel! ha, ha! Now, here's a proof that avarice is not the only or last passion old age is subject to-This su perannuated beldame gapes for flattery, like a nest of unfledged crows for food; and with them, too, gulps down every thing that's offered her-no matter how coarse. Well, she shall be fed; I'll make her my introductory key to the whole bench of aldermen.