suppose, Tam, you can eat beef?-However, dear Tam, I'm glad to see thee in England, stap my vi tals! [Exit

Y. Fash. Hell and furies! Is this to be borne Lory. Faith, sir, I could almost have given him a knock o' the pate myself.

Y. Fash. 'Tis enough; I will now shew you the excess of my passion by being very calm. Come, Lory, lay your loggerhead to mine, and, in cold blood, let us contrive his destruction.

Lory. Here comes a head, sir, would contrive it better than us both, if she would but join in the confederacy.

Y. Fash. By this light, Madam Coupler! she seems dissatisfied at something: let us observe her.

Enter COUPler.

Coup. Soh! I am likely to be well rewarded for my services, truly; my suspicions, I find, were but too just-What! refuse to advance me a paltry sum, when I am upon the point of making him master of a galloon! But let him look to the consequences, an ungrateful, narrow-minded coxcomb !

Y. Fash. So he is, upon my soul, old lady: it must be my brother you speak of?

Coup. Hah!-stripling, how came you here? What, hast spent all, hey? and art thou come to dun his lordship for assistance?

Y. Fash. No:-I want somebody's assistance to cut his lordship's throat, without the risque of being hang'd for him.

Coup. Egad, sirrah, I could help thee to do him almost as good a turn, without the danger of being burnt in the hand for't.

you

the

Y. Fash. How-how, old Mischief? Coup. Why you must know I have done kindness to make up a match for your brother. Y. Fash. I'm very much beholden to you, truly: Coup. You may before the wedding-day yet: the

lady is a great heiress, the match is concluded, the writings are drawn, and his lordship is come hither to *put the finishing hand to the business.

Y. Fash. I understand as much.

Coup. Now you must know, stripling, your brother's a knave.

Y. Fash. Good.

Coup. He has given me a bond of a thousand pounds for helping him to this fortune, and has promised me as much more in ready money upon the day of the marriage; which, I understand by a friend, he never designs to pay me; and his just now refusing to pay me a part is a proof of it: If, therefore, you will be a generous young rogue, and secure me five thousand pounds, I'll help you to the lady.

Y. Fash. And how the devil wilt thou do that?

Coup. Without the devil's aid, I warrant thee. Thy brother's face not one of the family ever saw; the whole business has been managed by me, and all the letters go through my hands. Sir Tunbelly Clumsy, my relation, (for that's the old gentleman's name) is apprised of his lordship being down here, and expects him to-morrow to receive his daughter's hand; but the peer, I find, means to bait here a few days longer, to recover the fatigue of his journey, I suppose. Now you shall go to Muddy-moat-hall in his place. I'll give you a letter of introduction; and i you don't marry the girl before sun-set, you deserve to be hang'd before morning.

Y. Fash. Agreed, agreed: and for thy rewardCoup. Well, well; though I warrant thou hast not a farthing of money in thy pocket now-no-one may see it in thy face.

Y. Fash. Not a sous, by Jupiter.

Coup. Must I advance then ?-well, be at my lodg ing next door this evening, and I'll see what may be done-We'll sign and seal, and when I have given

thee some farther instructions, thou shalt hoist sail and be gone. (Exit COUP. Y. Fash. So, Lory; Providence, thou seest, at last takes care of merit: we are in a fair way to be great people.

Lory. Ay, sir, if the devil don't step between the cup and the lip, as he uses to do.

Y. Fash. Why, faith, he has played me many a damned trick to spoil my fortune, and, egad, I'm almost afraid he's at work about it again now; but if I should tell thee how, thou'dst wonder at me. Lory. Indeed, sir, I should not.

Y. Fash. How dost know?

Lory. Because, sir, I have wondered at you so often, I can wonder at you no more.

Y. Fash. No! what would'st thou say if a qualm of conscience should spoil my design?

Lory. I would eat my words, and wonder more than ever!

Y. Fash. Why faith, Lory, though I am a young rakehell, and have played many a roguish trick, this is so full-grown a cheat, I find I must take pains to to't I have scruples.

come up

Lory. They are strong symptoms of death. If you find they increase, sir, pray make your will.

Y. Fash. No, my conscience sha'n't starve me neither: but thus far I'll listen to it. Before I execute this project, I'll try my brother to the bottom. If he has yet so much humanity about him to assist me (though with a moderate aid) I'll drop my project at his feet, and shew him how I do for him much can more than what I'd ask he'd do for me. This one conclusive trial of him I resolve to make

Succeed or fail, still victory's my lot;

If I subdue his heart, 'tis well-if not,

I will subdue my conscience to my plot. [Exeunt.

ACT THE SECOND.

SCENE I.

Enter LOVELESS and AMANDA.

Love. How do you like these lodgings, my dear? For my part, I am so well pleased with them, I shall hardly remove whilst we stay here, if you are satisfied. Aman. I am satisfied with every thing that pleases you, else I had not come to Scarbro' at all.

Love. O a little of the noise and folly of this place will sweeten the pleasures of our retreat; we shall find the charms of our retirement doubled when we return to it.

Aman. That pleasing prospect will be my chiefest entertainment, whilst, much against my will, I engage in those empty pleasures which 'tis so much the fashion to be fond of.

Love. I own most of them are indeed but empty; yet there are delights, of which a private life is destitute, which may divert an honest man, and be a harmless entertainment to a virtuous woman: good music is one; and truly, (with some small allowance) the plays, I think, may be esteemed another.

Aman. Plays, I must confess, have some small

charms, and would have more, would they restrain that loose encouragement to vice, which shocks, if not the virtue of some women, at least the modesty of all.

Love. But, till that reformation can be wholly made, 'twould surely be a pity to exclude the productions of some of our best writers, for want of a little wholesome pruning; which might be effected by any one who possessed modesty enough to believe that we should preserve all we can of our deceased authors, at least till they are outdone by the living

ones.

Aman. What do you think of that you saw last night?

Love. To say truth, I did not mind it much; my attention was for some time taken off to admire the workmanship of Nature, in the face of a young lady who sat some distance from me, she was so exquisitely handsome.

Aman. So exquisitely handsome!

Love. Why do you repeat my words, my dear? Aman. Because you seemed to speak them with such pleasure, I thought I might oblige you with their echo.

Love. Then you are alarmed, Amanda ?

Aman. It is my duty to be so, when you are in danger.

Love. You are too quick in apprehending for me. I viewed her with a world of admiration, but not one glance of love.

Aman. Take heed of trusting to such nice distinctions. But were your eyes the only things that were inquisitive? Had I been in your place, my tongue, I fancy, had been curious too. I should have asked her where she lived, yet still without design-Who was she, pray?

Love. Indeed I cannot tell.

Aman. You will not tell.