Miss Wal. You may be sure that delicacy will not suffer me to be communicative on the subject, Sir.

Gen. Then you leave every thing to my management. Miss Wal. I can't trust a more noble negotiator. [goes out. Gen. The day is my own, (sings) Britons strike home! Strike home!

Scene between Gen. SAVAGE, Capt. SAVAGE, Miss WALSINGHAM, and TORRINGTON, a lawyer; in which the General discovers his mistake.

Capt. Sav.

N

TAY, but my dearest Miss Walsingham, the extenuation of my conduct to Belville, made it absolutely necessary for me to discover my engagements with you; and as happiness is now so fortunately in our reach, I flatter myself that you will be prevailed upon to forgive an error which proceeded only from extravagance of love.

Miss Wal. To think me capable of such an action, Captain Savage! I am terrified at the idea of an union with you; and it is better for a woman at any time, to sacrifice an insolent lover, than to accept of a suspicious husband.

Capt. In the happiest union, my dearest creature, there must always be something to overlook on both sides.

Miss Wal. Very civil, truly.

Capt. Pardon me, my life, for this frankness; and recollect, that if the lover has, through misconception, been unhappily guilty, he brings a husband altogether reformed to your hands.

Miss Wal. Well, I see I must forgive you at last; so I may as well make a merit of necessity, you provoking crea

ture.

Capt. And may I indeed hope for the blessing of this hand?

Miss Wal. Why you wretch, would you have me force it upon you? I think, after what I have said, a soldier might venure to take it without further ceremony.

Capt. Angelic creature! thus I seize it as my lawful prize.

Miss Wal. Well, but now you have obtained this inestimable prize, Captain, give me leave again to ask if you have had a certain explanation with the General?

apt. How can you doubt it?

Miss Wal. And is he really impatient for our marriage? Cant 'Tis incredible how earnest he is.

Miss Wal. What! did he tell you of his interview with me this evening, when he brought Mr. Torrington

Caps. He did.

Miss Wal. O, then I can have no doubt.

Capt. If a shadow of doubt remains, here he comes to remove it. Joy, my dear Sir, joy a thousand times!

[Enter General Savage and Torrington.]

Gen. What, my dear boy have you carried the day? Miss Wal. I have been weak enough to indulge him with a victory, indeed, General.

Gen. Fortune favors the brave, Torrington.

Tor. I congratulate you heartily on this decree, General. Gen. This had nearly proved a day of disappointment, but the stars have fortunately turned it in my favor, and now I reap the rich reward of my victory.

Capt. And here I take her from you as the greatest good which heaven can send me.

Miss Wal. O captain!

Gen. You take her as the greatest good which heaven can send you, Sirrah! I take her as the greatest good which heaven can send me ; and now what have you to say to her?

Miss Wal. General Savage!

Tor. Here will be a fresh injunction to stop proceedings? Miss Wal. Are we never to have done with mistakes ?* Gen. What mistakes can have happened now, sweetest, you delivered up your dear hand this moment.

Miss Wal. True, Sir; but I thought you were going to bestow my dear hand upon this dear gentleman. Gen. How! that dear gentleman?

Capt. I am thunderstruck!

Tor. Fortune favors the brave, General, none but the brave [Laughingly.

Gen. So the covert way is cleared at last; and you have. all along imagined that I was negotiating for this fellow, when I was gravely soliciting for myself.

Miss Wal. No other idea, Sir, ever entered my imagination.

Tor. General, noble minds should never despair.

[Laughingly. Gen. Well, my hopes are all blown up to the moon at once, and I shall be the laughing stock of the whole town's

Scene between Mrs. BELVILLE, Miss WALSINGHAM, and Lady RACHEL MILDEW-On DUELLING.

Mrs. Belv.

WH

HERE is the generosity, where is the [alone.] sense, where is the shame of men, to find pleasure in pursuits which they cannot remember without the deepest horror; which they cannot follow without the ineanest fraud; and which they cannot effect without consequences the most dreadful? The greatest triumph which a libertine can ever experience, is too despicable to be envied; 'tis at best nothing but a victory over humanity; and if he is a husband, he must be doubly tortured on the wheel of recollection.

[Enter Miss Walsingham, and Lady Rachel Mildew.] Miss Wal. My dear Mrs. Belville, I am extremely unhappy to see you so distressed.

Lady Rach. Now I am extremely glad to see her so ;for if she were not greatly distressed, it would be monstrously unnatural.

Mrs. Bel. O Matilda! my husband! my children!

Miss Wal. Don't weep, my dear, don't weep! pray be comforted, all may end happily. Lady Rachel, beg of her not to cry so.

Lady Rach. Why, you are crying yourself, Miss Walsingham. And though I think it out of character to encourage, her tears, I cannot help keeping you company.

Mrs. Bel. O, why is not some effectual method contrived to prevent this horrible practice of duelling.

Lady Rach. I'il expose it on the stage, since the law now a-days kindly leaves the whole cognizance of it to the thea

tre.

Miss Wal. And yet if the laws against it were as well enforced, as the laws against destroying the game, perhaps it would be equally for the benefit of the kingdom.

Mrs. Bel. No law will ever be effectual till the custom is rendered infamous. Wives must shriek! Mothers must agonize orphans must be multiplied! unless some blessed hand strip the fascinating glare from honorable murder, and bravely expose the idol who is worshipped thus in blood. While it is disreputable to obey the laws, we cannot look for reformation. But if the duellist is once banished from the presence of his sovereign; if he is for life excluded the confidence of his country; if a mark of indelible disgrace is stamped upon him, the sword

He strives with thirst and hunger, toil and heat;
And when his fortune sets before him all

The pomp and pleasure which his soul can wish,
His rigid virtue will accept of none.

Syph. Believe me, prince, there's not an African
That traverses our vast Numidian deserts
In quest of prey, and lives upon his bow,
But better practises these boasted virtues ;
Coarse are his meals, the fortune of the chase,
Amidst the running streams he slacks his thirst,
Toils all the day, and at the approach of night,
On the first friendly bank he throws him down,
Or rests his head upon a rock till morn ;
Then rises fresh, pursues the wonted game,
And if the following day he chance to find
A new repast, or an untasted spring,
Blesses his stars, and thinks it luxury.

Jub. Thy prejudices, Syphax, won't discern

What virtues grow from ignorance, aad what from choice,' Nor how the hero differs from the brute.

But grant that others could with equai glory

Look down on pleasures and the baits of sense;

Where shall we find the man that bears affliction,

Great and majestic in his griefs, like Cato?

Heavens with what strength, what steadiness of mind, He triumphs in the midst of all his sufferings?

How does he rise against a load of woes,

And thank the gods that threw the weight upon him!
Syph. 'Tis pride, rank pride, and haughtiness of soul
I think the Romans call it stoicism.

Had not your royal father thought so highly
Of Roman virtue and of Cato's cause,
He had not fall'n by a slave's hand inglorious ;
Nor would his slaughtered army now have lain
On Afric's sands, disfigured by their wounds,
To gorge the wolves and vultures of Numidia.

Jub. Why dost thou call my sorrows up afresh ;
My father's name brings tears into mine eyes.
Syph. Oh, that you'd profit by your father's ills!
Jub. What would'st thou have me do?
Syph. Abandon Cato.

Jub. Syphax, I should be more than twice an orphan
By such a loss,

Syph. Ay, there's the tye that binds you ! You long to call him father. Marcia's charms Work in your heart, unseen, and plead for Cato. No wonder you are deaf to all I say.

Jub. Syphax, your zeal becomes importunate;
I've hitherto permitted it to rave,

And talk at large! but learn to keep it in,
Lest it should take more freedom than I'll give it.
Syph. Sir, your great father never used me thus:
Alas, he's dead! but can you e'er forget

The tender sorrows and the pangs of nature,
The fond embraces and repeated blessings,
Which you drew from him in your last farewell?
Still must I cherish the dear sad remembrance,
At once to torture and to please my soul.
The good old king, at parting, wrung my hand,
(His eyes brimful of tears) then sighing, cried-
"Prithee be careful of my son !"-His grief
Swell'd up so high, he could not utter more.
Jub. Alas, the story melts away my soul !
The best of fathers! how shall I discharge
The gratitude and duty which I owe him?

Syph. By laying up his counsels in your heart.
Jab. His counsels bade me yield to thy directions.;.
Then, Syphax, chide me in severest terms;
Vent all thy passion, and I'll stand its shock,
Calm and unruffled as a summer's sea,

When not a breath of wind flies o'er its surface.

Suph. Alas, my prince, I'll guide you to your safety. Jub. I do believe thou would'st, but tell me how? Syph. Fly from the fate of Cæsar's foes.

Jub. My father scorn'd to do it.

Syph. And therefore died.

Jub. Better to die ten thousand deaths,

Than wound my honor.

Syph. Rather say your love.

Jub. Syphax, I've promis'd to preserve my temper : Why wilt thou urge me to confess a flame

I long have stifled and would fain conceal ?

Syph. Believe me, prince, tho' hard to conquer love,

'Tis easy to divert and break its force.

Absence might cure it; or a second mistress

Light up another flame and put out this