Enter NANCY, L.

Nan. Well, Dimity, what's to become of me ?

Dim. My stars! what makes you up, Miss ?—I thought you were gone to bed!

Nan. What should I go to bed for? Only to tumble and toss, and fret, and be uneasy-they are going to marry me, and I am frightened out of my wits!

Dim. Why, then, you're the only young lady within fifty miles round, that would be frightened at such a thing. Nan. Ah! if they would let me choose for myself. Dim. Don't you like Mr. Lovelace?

Nan. My mamma does, but I don't! I don't mind his being a man of fashion, not I.

Dim. And, pray, can you do better than follow the fashion?

Nan. Ah! I know there is a fashion for new bonnets, and a fashion for dressing the hair;-but I never heard of a fashion for the heart.

Dim. Why, then, my dear, the heart mostly follows the fashion now.

Nan. Does it?-pray, who sets the fashion of the heart? Dim. All the fine ladies in London, o' my conscience. Nan. And what's the last new fashion, pray ?

Dim. Why, to marry any fop that has a few deceitful agreeable appearances about him; something of a pert phrase, a good operator for the teeth, and a tolerable tailor.

Nan. And do they marry without loving?

Dim. Oh! marrying for love has been a great while out of fashion.

Nan. Why, then, I'll wait till that fashion comes up again.

Dim. And then, Mr. Lovelace, I reckon

Nan. Pshaw! I don't like him: he talks to me as if he was the most miserable man in the world, and the confident thing looks so pleased with himself all the while.— I want to marry for love, and not for card-playing-I should not be able to bear the life my sister leads with Sir Charles Racket-and I'll forfeit my new don't quarrel soon. if cap, they

Dim. Oh, fie! no! they won't quarrel yet awhile.-A

quarrel in three weeks after marriage, would be sɔmewhat of the quickest-By and by we shall hear of their whims and their humours-Well, but if you don't like Mr. Lovelace, what say you to Mr. Woodley? Nan. Ah! I don't know what to say.

Enter WOODLEY, M. D.

Wood. My sweetest angel! I have heard all, and my heart overflows with love and gratitude.

Nan. Ah! but I did not know you was listening. You should not have betrayed me so, Dimity: I shall be angry

with you.

Dim. Well, I'll take my chance for that.-Run both into my room, and say all your pretty things to one another there, for here comes the old gentleman—make haste away. [Exeunt Woodley and Nancy, M. D.

Enter DRUGGet, r.

Drug. A forward, presuming coxcomb!-Dimity, do you step to Mrs. Drugget, and send her hither.

Dim. Yes, sir;-it works upon him, I see. [Exit, L. Drug. The yew-trees ought not to be cut, because they'll help to keep off the dust, and I am too near the road already-a sorry, ignorant fop!-When I am in so fine a situation, and can see every carriage that goes by. And then to abuse the nurseryman's rarities !—A finer sucking pig in lavender, with sage growing in his belly, was never seen!-And yet he wants me not to have it But have it I will.-There's a fine tree of knowledge, too, with Adam and Eve in juniper; Eve's nose is not quite grown, but it is thought in the spring will be very forward I'll have that, too, with the serpent in ground ivy-two poets in wormwood-I'll have them both. Ay; and there's a Lord Mayor's feast in honey-suckle; and the whole Court of Aldermen in hornbeam: they all shall be in my garden, with the Dragon of Wantley, in box-all—all— I'll have 'em all, let my wife and Mr. Lovelace say what they will

Enter MRS. DRUGGET, L.

Mrs. D. Did you send for me, lovey?

Drug. The yew-trees shall be cut into the giants of Guildhall, whether you will or not.

Mrs. D. Sure, my own dear will do as he pleases. Drug. And the pond, though you praise the green. banks, shall be walled round, and I'll have a little fat boy in marble, spouting up water in the middle.

Mrs. D. My sweet, who hinders you?

Drug. Yes, and I'll buy the nurseryman's whole catalogue;-Do you think, after retiring to live all the way here, almost four miles from London, that I won't do as I please in my own garden?

Mrs. D. My dear, but why are you in such a passion? Drug. I'll have the lavender pig, and the Adam and Eve, and the Dragon of Wantley, and all of 'em—and there shan't be a more romantic spot on the London road than mine.

Mrs. D. I'm sure it's as pretty as hands can make it. Drug. I did it all myself, and I'll do more—And Mr. Lovelace shan't have my daughter.

Mrs. D. No! what's the matter now, Mr. Drugget? Drug. He shall learn better manners than to abuse my house and gardens. You put him in the head of it, but I'll disappoint you both—And so you may go and tell Mr. Lovelace that the match is quite off.

Mrs. D. I can't comprehend all this, not I,-but I'll tell him so, if you please, my dear-I am willing to give myself pain, if it will give you pleasure: must I give myself pain ?-Don't ask me, pray don't:-I don't like pain. Drug. I am resolved, and it shall be so.

Mrs. D. Let it be so, then. [Cries.] Oh! oh! cruel man! I shall break my heart if the match is broke off;if it is not concluded to-morrow, send for an undertaker, and bury me the next day.

Drug. How! I don't want that, neither—

Mrs. D. Oh! oh!

Drug. I am your lord and master, my dear, but not your executioner-Before George, it must never be said, that my wife died of too much compliance-Cheer up, my love-and this affair shall be settled as soon as Sir Charles and Lady Racket arrive.

Mrs. D. You bring me to life again-You know, my sweet, what a happy couple Sir Charles and his lady are -Why should not we make our Nancy as happy?

Enter DIMITY, R.

Dim. Sir Charles and his lady, ma'am.

Mrs. D. Oh! charming! I'm transported with joy !— Where are they? I long to see 'em!

[Exit, R.

Dim. Well, sir; the happy couple are arrived.
Drug. Yes, they do live happy, indeed.

Dim. But how long will it last?

Drug. How long! don't forebode any ill, you jade!— don't, I say—it will last during their lives, I hope.

is

Dim. Well, mark the end of it-Sir Charles, I know, gay and good humoured-but he can't bear the least contradiction, no, not in the merest trifle.

Drug. Hold your tongue-hold your tongue.

Dim. Yes, sir, I have done :--and yet there is in the composition of Sir Charles a certain humour, which, like the flying gout, gives no disturbance to the family till it settles in the head;-When once it fixes there, mercy on everybody about him! but here he comes!

Enter SIR CHARLES, R.

[Exit, L.

Sir C. My dear sir, I kiss your hand-but why stand on ceremony? To find you up thus late, mortifies me beyond expression.

Drug. 'Tis but once in a way, Sir Charles.

Sir C. My obligations to you are inexpressible; you have given me the most amiable of girls; our tempers accord like unisons in music.

Drug. Ah! that's what makes me happy, in my old days; my children and my garden are all my care.

Sir C. And my friend Lovelace-he is to have our sister Nancy, I find.

Drug. Why, my wife is so minded.

Sir C. Oh! by all means, let her be made happy-A very pretty fellow, Lovelace-And as to that Mr.-Woodley, I think you call him-he is but a plain, underbred, ill-fashioned sort of a-nobody knows him!—he is not one of us. Oh, by all means, marry her to one of us.

[Crosses to L. Drug. I believe it must be so.— -Would you take any refreshment?

Sir C. Nothing in nature,-it is time to retire.

Drug. Well, well! good night, then, Sir Charles-Ha! here comes my daughter.-Good night, Sir Charles.

Sir C. Bon repos.

Drug. [Going out, R.] My Lady Racket, I'm glad to hear how happy you are; I won't detain you now there's your good man waiting for you-good night, my girl.

Sir C. I must humour this old putt, in order to be remembered in his will.

Enter LADY Racket, r.

Lady R. Oh, la!-I'm quite fatigued ;-I can hardly move;-why don't you help me, you barbarous man? Sir C. There; take my arm-" Was ever thing so pretty made to walk?"

Lady R. But I won't be laughed at-I don't love you! Sir C. Don't you?

Lady R. No-dear me! this glove! why don't you help me off with my glove? Pshaw! you awkward thing, let it alone; you an't fit to be about me; I might as well not be married, for any use you are of-reach me a chair -you have no compassion for me- -I am so glad to sit down-why do you drag me to routs ?-You know I hate

them!

Sir C. Oh! there's no existing, no breathing, unless one does as other people of fashion do.

Lady R. But I'm out of humour; I lost all my money. Sir C. How much?

Lady R. Three hundred.

Sir C. Never fret for that-I don't value three hundred pounds to contribute to your happiness.

Lady R. Don't you ?—not value three hundred pounds to pleasure me?

Sir C. You know I don't!

Lady R. Ah! you fond fool-But I hate gaming-It almost metamorphoses a woman into a fury-Do you know, that I was frightened at myself several times tonight? I had a huge oath at the very tip of my tongue! Sir C. Had ye?

Lady R. I caught myself at it—and so I bit my lipsand then I was crammed up in a corner of the room with such a strange party at a whist-table, looking at black and red spots-did you mind them?