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the bookseller, and Index the printer. noble triumvirate! and the rascals are scriptive and arbitrary as the famous one, into the bargain.

Enter SPRIGHTLY.

A most | prince of the blood, he would not scruple eat as pro- ing a fried sausage at the Mews-gate. There. Roman is a minutenes, now and then in his descriptions, and some whimsical, unaccountable turns in his conversation, that are entertaining enough; but the extravagance and oddity of his manner, and the boast of his birth, complete his cha

Sprigh. What! in soliloquy, George? reciting some of the pleasantries, I suppose, in your new piece? Cape. My disposition has at present very little of the vis comica.

Spright. What's the matter?

Cape. Survey that mass of wealth upon the table; all my own, and earned in little more than a week.

Spright. Why, 'tis an inexhaustible mine! Cape. Ay; and delivered to me, too, with all the soft civility of Billingsgate, by a printer's prime minister, called a devil.

Spright. I met the imp upon the stairs. But I thought these midwives to the muses were the idolizers of you, their favourite sons.

Cupe. Our tyrants, Tom! had I indeed a posthumous piece of infidelity, or an amorous novel, decorated with luscious copper-plates, the slaves would be civil enough.

Spright. Why don't you publish your own

works?

Cape. What! and paper my room with them? No, no, that will never do; there are secrets in all trades ours is one great mystery; but the explanation would be too tedious at present. Spright. Then why don't you divert your attention to some other object?

Cape. That subject was employing my thoughts.

Spright. How have you resolved?

Cape. I have, I think, at present, two strings to my bow if my comedy succeeds, it buys me a commission; if my mistress, my Laura, proves kind, I am settled for life; but if both my cords snap-adieu to the quill, and welcome the musket.

Spright. Heroically determined! But, a-propos, how proceeds your honourable passion?

-But you

Cape. But slowly; I believe I have a friend in her heart, but a most potent enemy in her head: you know I am poor and she is prudent. With regard to her fortune, too, I believe her brother's consent is essentially necessarypromised to make me acquainted with him. Spright. I expect him here every instant. He may, George, be useful to you in more than one capacity; if your comedy is not crowded, he is a character, I can tell you, that will make no contemptible figure in it.

Cape. His sister gave me a sketch of him last summer.

Spright. A. sketch can never convey him. His peculiarities require infinite labour, and high finishing.

Cape. Give me the outlines.

Spright. He is a compound of contrarieties; pride and meanness, folly and archness: at the same time that he would take the wall of a

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Vamp. An Author? Cape. Voluminous. Vamp. In what way? Cape. Universal.

Vamp. Bless me! he's very young, and exceedingly well rigged; what! a good subscription, I reckon ?

Cape. Not a month from Leyden; an admirable theologist! he studied it in Germany; if you should want such a thing, now as ten or a dozen manuscript sermons by a deceased clergymen, I believe he can supply you. Vamp. No.

Cape. Warranted originals.

Vamp. No, no; I don't deal in the sermon way, now; I lost money by the last I printed, for all 'twas wrote by a methodist; but I believe sir, if they ben't long and have a good deal of Latin in them, I can get you a chap.

Spright. For what, sir?

Vamp. The manuscript sermons you have wrote, and want to dispose of.

me.

Spright Sermons that I have wrote!
Vamp. Ay, ay; Mr. Cape has been telling

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sceret. Why, in the year, fifteen, when I was in the the treasonable way, I never squeaked; I never gave up but one author in my life, and he was dying of a consumption; so it never came to a trial.

Spright. Indeed!

Vamp. Never; look here-[Shows the side of his head.]-cropped close! bare as a board! and for nothing in the world but an innocent book of bawdy, as I hope for mercy! oh! the laws are very hard, very severe upon us.

once like to have engaged in a paper. We had got a young Cantab for the essays; a pretty historian from Aberdeen; and an attorney's clerk for the true intelligence: but, I don't know how, it dropped for want of a politician.

Cape. If in that capacity I can be of anyVamp. No, thank you, Mr. Cape: in half a year's time, I have a grandson of my own that will come in; he is now in training as a waiter at the Cocoa-tree coffee-house; I intend giving him the run of Jonathan's for three months, to understand trade and the funds; and then I'll start him-No, no; you have enough on your hands; stick to your business; and d'ye hear Vamp. You will be safe-but, gadso! we'ware clipping and coining; remember Harry must mind business, though. Here, Mr. Cape, you must provide me with three taking titles for these pamplets; and if you can think of a pat Latin motto for the largest-

Spright. You have given me, sir, so positive a proof of your secrecy, that you may rely upon my communication.

Cape. They shall be done.

Vamp. Do so, do so. Books are like women, Mr. Cape; to strike, they must be well dressed: fine feathers make fine birds; a good paper, an elegant type, a handsome motto, and a catching title, has drove many a dull treatise through three editions: did you know Harry Handy?

Spright. Not that I recollect.

Vamp. He was a pretty fellow; he had his Latin ad angeum, as they say; he would have turned you a fable of Dryden's, or an epistle of Pope's, into Latin verse in a twinkling: except Peter Hasty the voyage writer, he was as great a loss to the trade as any within my memory.

Cape. What carried him off? ́

Vamp. A halter-hanged for clipping and coining, Mr. Cape. I thought there was something the matter by his not coming to our shop for a month or two: he was a pretty fellow !

Spright. Where you a great loser by his death?

Vamp. I can't say-as he had taken to another course of living, his execution made a noise; it sold me seven hundred of his translations, besides his last dying speech and confession; I got it; he was mindful of his friends in his last moments; he was a pretty fellow!

Cape. You have no further commands, Mr. Vamp?

Vamp. Not at present; about the spring I'll deal with you if we can agree, for a couple of volumes in octavo.

Spright. Upon what subject.

Vamp. Ileave that to him; Mr. Cape knows what will do, though novels are a pretty light summer-reading, and do very well at Tunbridge, Bristol, and the other watering places: no bad commodity for the West India trade neither; let them be novels Mr. Cape.

Cape. You shall be certainly supplied. Vamp. I doubt not; pray how does Index go on with your Journal.

Cape. He does not complain.

Vamp. Ah, I knew the time-but you have over stocked the market. Titlepage and I had

Handy: he was a pretty fellow! [Exit VAMP. Spright. And I'm sure thou art a most extraordinary fellow! But pr'ythee, George, what could provoke thee to make me a writer of sermons?

Cape. You seemed desirous of being acquainted with our business, and I knew old Vamp would let you more into the secret in five minutes, than I could in as many hours.

[Knocking below, loud.

Spright. Cape, to your post; here they are i'faith, a coachful! Let's see, Mr. and Mrs. Cadwallader, and your flame, the sister, as I live! Cad. [Without.] Pray, by the by, han't you a poet above?

[Without.] Higher up.

Cad. [Without.] Egad, I wonder what makes your poets have such an aversion to middle floors-they are always to be found in extremities; in garrets, or cellars.

Enter MR. and MRS. CADWALLADER, and ARA

BELLA.

Cad. Ah! Sprightly!
Spright. Hush!

Cad. Hey, what's the matter? Spright. Hard at it; untwisting some knotty point; totally absorbed !

Cad. Gadso! what! that's be! Beck, Bell, there he is, egad, as great a poet, and as ingenous a-what's he about?-Hebrew?

Spright. Weaving the whole Æneid into a tragedy; I have been here this half hour, but he has not marked me yet.

Cad. Could not I take a peep?

Spright. An earthquake wonld not rouse him.
Cad. He seems in a damned passion.

Cape. The belt of Pallas, nor prayers, nor tears, nor supplicating gods, shall save thee now.

Cad. Hey! zounds! what the devil! who? Cape. Pallas! te hoc vulnere, Pallas immolat, et pænam scelerato ex sanguine sumit!

Cad. Damn your palace! I wish I was well out of your garret !

Cape. Sir, I beg ten thousand pardons: ladies, your most devoted. You will excuse me, sir; but being just on the catastrophe of my tragedy, I am afraid the poetic furor may have betrayed me into some indecency.

Spright. Oh, Mr. Cadwallader is too great a it is as a very particular favour, if you would genius himself, not to allow for these intemper-invite me at the same time, hey! will you? ate sallies of a heated imagination.

Cad. Genius; Look you here! Mr. What'syour-name?

Cupe. Cape.

Cad. Cape! true; though by the by here, hey you live devilish high; but perhaps you may chuse that for exercise, hey! Sprightly! Genius! Lookye here, Mr. Cape, I had as pretty natural parts, as fine talents!--but between you and I, I had as damined fool of a guardian, an ignorant, illiterate, ecod-be could as soon pay the national debt as write his own name, and so was resolved to make his ward no wiser than himself, I think.

Spright. O fie, Mr. Cadwallader, you don't do yourself justice.

Cape. Indeed, sir, we must contradict you, we can't suffer this defamation. I have more than once heard Mr. Cadwallader's literary acquisitions loudly talked of.

Cad. Have you?-no, no, it cannot be, hey! though let me tell you, last winter, before I had the measles, I could have made as good a speech, upon any subject, in Italian French, Germanbut I am all unhinged !-all-Oh, Lord, Mr. Cape, this is Becky; my dear Becky, child, this is a great poet-ah, but she does not know what that is a little foolish or so, but of a very good family-here, Becky, child, won't you ask Mr. Cape to come and see you?

Mrs. Cad. As Dicky says, I shall be glad to see you at our house, sir.

Cape. I have too great a regard for my own happiness, madam, to miss so certain an opportunity of creating it.

Mrs. Cad. Hey! what?

Cape. My inclinations, as well as my duty, I say, will compel me to obey your kind injunctions.

Mrs. Cad. What does he say, our Bell? Ara. Oh, that he can have no greater pleasure than waiting on you.

Mrs. Cad. I'm sure that's more his goodness than my desert; but when you ben't better engaged, we shall be glad of your company of an evening, to make one with our Dicky, sister Bell, and I, at whisk and swabbers.

Cad. Hey, ecod, do, Cape, come and look at her grotto and shells, and see what she has got Well, he'll come, Beck-ecod, do, and she'll come to the third night of your tragedy, hey! won't you, Beck? Isn't she a fine girl? hey, you; humour her a little, do-Hey, Beck! he says you are as fine a woman as ever he-ecod, who knows but he may make a copy of verses on you?— There, go and have a little chat with her, talk any nonsense to her, no matter what; she's a dammed fool, and won't know the differencethere, go, Beck-Well, Sprightly, hey! what! are you and Bel! like to come together? Oh, ecod, they tell me, Mr. Sprightly, that you have frequently lords, and viscounts, and earls, that take a dinner with you; now I should look upon

Spright. You may depend on it.

Cad. Will you? Gad, that's kind: for between you and I, Mr. Sprightly, I am of as ancient a family as the best of them; and people of fashion should know one another, you know. Spright. By all manner of means.

Cad. Hey! should not they so? When you have any lord or baron, nay, egad, if it be but a baronet or a member of parliament, I should take it as a favour.

Spright. You will do them honour; they must all have heard of the antiquity of your house. Cad. Antiquity; hey! Beck, where's my pedigree?

Mrs. Cad. Why, at home, locked up in the butler's pantry.

Cad. In the pantry! What the devil! how often have I bid you never come out without it! Mrs Cad. Lord! what signifies carrying such a lumbering thing about?

Cad. Signifies you are a fool, Beck. Why, suppose we should have any disputes when we are abroad about precedence, how the devil shall we be able to settle it? But you shall see it at home. Oh Becky, come hither; we will refer our dispute to [They go apart.

Ara. Well, sir, your friend has prevailed, and you are acquainted with my brother; but what use you propose

Cape. The pleasure of a more frequent admission to you.

Ara. Is that all?

Cape. Who knows but a strict intimacy with Mr. Cadwallader may in time incline him to favour my hopes?

Ara. A sandy foundation !-Could he be prevailed upon to forgive your want of fortune, the obscurity, or, at least, uncertainty, of your birth will prove an unsurmountable bar.

Cad. Hold, hold, hold, Beck;-zounds! you are so

Spright. Well, but hear him out, madam. Cape. Consider, we have but an instant. What project? What advice?

Ara. O fie! You would be ashamed to receive succour from a weak woman!-Poetry is your profession, you know; so that plots, contriv ances, and all the powers of imagination, are more peculiarly your province.

Cape. Is this a season to rally?
Cad. Hold, hold, hold! ask Mr. Cape.

Ara. To be serious, then; if you have any point to gain with my brother, your application must be to his better part.

Cape. I understand you ; plough with the heifer?

Ara. A delicate allusion, on my word! but take this hint-Amongst her passions, admiration, or rather adoration, is the principal.

Cape. Oh! that is her foible?

Ara. One of them; against that fort you must plant your batteries-But here they are.

Mrs. Cad. I tell you, you are a nonsense man,

and I won't agree to any such thing:-Why, | poor little Dicky a member of parliament? Hey, what signifies a parliament man? You make such a rout, indeed.

Cad. Hold, Becky, my dear, dont be in a passion now, hold; let us reason the thing a little, my dear.

Mrs. Cad. I tell you I wont-what, is the man an oaf? I won't reason;-I hate reason; and so there's an end on't.

Cad. Why, then, you are obstinate ecod, perverse. Hey, but my dear, now? Becky, that's a good girl:-Hey! come, hold, hold-Egad, we'll refer it to Mr. Cape.

Mrs. Cad. Defer it to who you will, it will signify nothing.

Cape. Bless me! what's the matter, madam? Sure, Mr. Cadwallader, you must have been to blame; no inconsiderable matter could have ruffled the natural softness of that tender and delicate mind.

Ara. Pretty well commenced.

Mrs. Cad. Why, he's always a fool, I think; he wants to send our little Dicky to school, and make him a parliament-man.

Cape. How old is master, madam ?

Mrs. Cad. Three years and a quarter, come Lady-day.

Cape. The intention is rather early. Cad. Hey! early? hold, hold! but Becky mistakes the thing-Egad, I'll tell you the whole affair.

Mrs. Cad. You had better hold your chattering, so you had.

Cad. Nay, pr'ythee, my dear! Mr. Sprightly, do stop her mouth; hold, hold. The matter, Mr. Cape, is this. Have you ever seen my Dicky. Cape. Never.

Cad. No! hold, hold; egad he's a fine, a sensible child; I tell Becky he's like her, to keep her in humour; but between you and I, he has more sense already than all her family put together. Hey! Becky, is not Dicky the picture of you? He's a sweet child. Now, Mr. Cape, you must know, I want to put little Dicky to school; now between-hey! you, hold, you, hold, the great use of a school is, hey! egad, for children to make acquaintances that may hereafter be useful to them: For, between you and I, as to what they learn there, it does not signify twopence.

Cape. Not a farthing.

Cad. Does it, hey?-Now, this is our dispute, whether poor little Dicky (he's a sweet boy) shall go to Mr. Quæ-Genius's at Edgware, and make an acquaintance with my young Lord Knap, the eldest son of the Earl of Frize, or to Dr. Ticklepitcher's at Barnet, to form a friendship with young Stocks, the rich broker's only child.

Cape. And for which does the lady determine? Cad. Why, I have told her the case-says I, Becky, my dear, who knows, if Dicky goes to Quæ-Genius's, but my Lord Knap may take such a fancy to him, that upon the death of his father, and he comes to be Earl of Frize, he may make

Cape.

Mrs. Cad. Ay; but, then, if Dicky goes to Tickle-pitcher's, who can tell but young Stocks, when he comes to his fortune, may lend him money if he wants it?

Cad. And, if he does not want it, he won't take after his father, hey? Well, what's your opinion, Mr. Cape?

Cape. Why, sir, I can't but join with the lady; money is the main article; it is that that makes the mare to go.

Cad. Hey! egad, and the alderman, too, you: so Dicky may be a member, and a fig for my lord: Well, Becky, be quiet; he shall stick to Stocks.

Mrs. Cad. Ay, let'n; I was sure as how I was

right.

Cad. Well, hush, Becky. Mr. Cape, will you eat a bit with us to-day, hey! will you? Cape. You command me.

Cad. That's kind: why, then, Becky and Bell shall step and order the cook to toss up a little nice-Hey! will you, Becky? Do, and I'll bring Cape.

Mrs Cad. Ay, with all my heart. Well, Mr. What-d'ye-call-um, the poet; ecod the man's well enough-Your servant.

Cape. I am a little too much in dishabille to offer your ladyship my hand to your coach. Cad. Psha! never mind, I'll do it-Here you have company coming.

[Exeunt MR. and MRS. CADWALLADER and ARABELLA.

Enter GOVERNOR and ROBIN.

Cape. Ah, Mr. Robin!

Rob. Why, you have had a great levee this morning, sir.

Cape. Ay, Robin, there's no obscuring extraordinary talents.

Rob. True, sir; and this friend of mine begs to claim the benefit of them.

Cape. Any friend of yours: but how can I be serviceable to him?

Rob. Why, sir, he is lately returned from a profitable government; and, as you know the unsatisfied mind of man, no sooner is one object possessed, but another starts up to

Cape. A truce to moralizing, dear Robin; to the matter; I am a little busy.

Rob. In a word, then, this gentleman, having a good deal of wealth, is desirous of a little honour.

Cape. How can I confer it?
Rob. Your pen may.

Cape. I don't understand you.

Rob. Why, touch him up a handsome complimentary address from his colony, by way of praising the prudence of his administration, his justice, valour, benevolence, and,

Cape. I am sorry 'tis impossible for me now to misunderstand you. The obligations I owe

you, Robin, nothing can cancel; otherwise, this would prove onr last interview.-Your friend, sir, has been a little mistaken, in recommending me as a person fit for your purpose. Letters have been always my passion, and, indeed, are now my profession; but, though I am the servant of the public, I am not the prostitute of particulars: As my pen has never been tinged with gall to gratify popular resentment, or private pique, so it shall never sacrifice its integrity, to flatter pride, impose falsehood, or palliate guilt. Your merit may be great; but let those, sir, be the heralds of your worth, who are better acquainted with it.

Gov. Young man, I like your principles and spirit; your manly refusal gives me more pleasure than any honours your papers could have procured me.

Spright. Now, this business is dispatched, let us return to our own affairs-You dine at Cadwallader's?

Cape. 1 do..

dines with a Tartarian lord has a right to carry with him what the Latins called his umbra; in their language it is jablanousky. Cad. Jablanousky! well.

Spright. Now, if you will go in that capacity, I shall be glad of the honour.

Cad. Hey! why, would you carry me to dine. with his royal highness?

Spright. With pleasure.

Cud. My dear friend, I shall take it as the greatest favour, the greatest obligation—I shall never be able to return it.

Spright. Don't mention it.

Cad. Hey! but hold, hold, how the devil shall I get off with the poet! You know I have asked him to dinner.

Spright. Oh, the occasion will be apology sufficient; besides, there will be the ladies to receive him.

Cad. My dear Mr. Cape, I beg ten thousand pardons! but here your friend is invited to dinner with prince- what the devil is his

Spright. Would it not be convenient to you to name? have him out of the way.

Cape. Extremely.

Spright. Potowowsky.

Cad. True; now, sir, ecod he has been so kind

Spright. I have a project that I think will pre- as to offer to carry me as his jablanousky; would

*vail.

Cape Of what kind?

Spright. Bordering upon the dramatic; but the time is so pressing, I shall be at a loss to procure performers. Let's see-Robin is a sure card -a principal may easily be met with; but where the deuce can I get an interpreter?

you be so good to excuse

Cape. By all means; not a word, I beg. Cad. That is exceeding kind; I'll come to you after dinner; hey! stay, but is there any ceremony to be used with his highness?

Spright. You dine upon carpets, cross-legged. Cad. Hey! hold, hold! cross-legged! zounds! that's odd; well, well, you shall teach me. Spright. And his highness is particularly plea[Aside to Gov.sed with those amongst his guests that do honour to his country soup.

Rob. Offer yourself, sir; it will give you an opportunity of more closely inspecting the conduct of your son.

Gov. True. Sir, though a scheme of this sort may ill suit with my character and time of life, yet, from a private interest I take in that gentleman's affairs, if the means are honourable

Spright. Innocent upon my credit.

Gov. Why, then, sir, I have no objection, if you think me equal to the task.

Spright. Most happily fitted for it. I should not have taken the liberty-But hush! he's re

turned..

Enter CADWALLADER.

Cad. Oh! let me alone for that:-But should not I dress?

Spright. No; there's no occasion for it.

Cad. Dear friend, forgive me; nothing should take me from you, but being a hobblinwisky. Well, I'll go and study to sit cross-legged, till you call me.

Spright. Do so.

Cad. His highness Potowowsky! This is the luckiest accident! [Exit CAD. Cape. Ha, ha, ha!-but how will you conduct

Spright. My dear friend! the luckiest circum- your enterprize? stance!

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Spright. We'll carry him to your friend Robin's; dress up one of the under actors in a ridiculous habit; this gentleman shall talk a little gibberish with him. I'll compose a soup of some nauseous ingredients; let me alone to manage. But do you choose, sir, the part we have assigned you?

Gov. As it seems to be but a harmless piece of mirth, I have no objection.

sir.

Spright. Well, then, let us about it: come,

Cape. Mr. Sprightly?

Spright. What's the matter?

Cape. Would it not be right to be a little spruce, a little smart, upon this occasion?

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