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Must broils and quarrels be the marriage lot? To form a plan so trivial, false, and low?
If that's the wise, deep meaning of our poet, As if a belle could quarrel with a beau.
The man's a fool! a blockhead! and I'll show it. Shun strife, ye fair, and once a contest o'er,

What could induce him in an age so nice, Wake to a blaze the dying flame no more. So fam'd for virtue, so refin'd from vice,



Wuo has been with great propriely styled the Congreve of the present day, was born at Quilce, near Dablia, about the year 1752; and at ibe age of six years was brought to England, and placed at Harrow school, where he received his education, under the care of Dr. Samner. After having finished his studies at that seminary, he entered himself of the Middle Temple society, with a view to the profession of the law; but the attractions of dramatic portry seem to have suspended his ardour in that pursuit. At the age of eighteen, he joined with another gentleman is translating the epistles of Aristacnelus from the Greek ; and, before he arrived at the age of twenty-Iwo, his first play, The Rivuls, was acted. In the year 1776, Mr. Garrick, having resolved to quit all his theatrical connexions, entered into a treaty with Mr. Sheridan, Mr. Linley, and Mr. Ford, for the sale of his share and interest in the patent, which agreement was soon afterwards finished, and our author became one of the managers of Drury Lane Theatre. On the 15th of April 1773, he was married to Miss Elizabeth Linley, an accomplished lady of exquisite musical talents. Amidst the cares of a theatre, Mr. Sheridan had not kept clear of the concerns of the political drama. Among the connessen that he had formed in this way was the late Right Hon. Charles James Fox. To that great man, then at the height of his talents, we may most probably attribute Mr. Sheridan's commencement of senatorial honours. After a variety of expectations from parliamentary interests, he offered himself a candidate for the independent borough of Stafford, in the election of 1780, against the gentleman who had for some years represented it, and succeeded. His connexions with Mr. Fox naturally led him to the support of his parly, at that time in opposition. His first effort in parliament was on the subject of the employment of the military during the riots arising from the Protestant petition. On the accession to power of the second administration formed under the Marquis of Rockingham, in 1782, when Lord Shelburne and Mr. Fox were principal secretaries of state, and Burke was paymaster of the forces, Mr. Sheridan became under-secretary to his friend, and with him resigned, when the death of that Noble Marquis again changed the dupe. sition of power. Again Mr. Sheridan returned to his former exertions with new vigour, and, in conjunction with oter persons, set up a periodical paper, called The Jesuit, which had not been long established, when its authors rendered Themselves liable to a prosecution. This was not long delayed; for Mr. Pitt, then just lwenty-three years old, wax the bead of the administration, Mr. Dundas was the treasurer of the navy, ete., and Lord Shelburne at the head of the treasury-board. The powerful party under Lord North was now in opposition as well as that of Mr. Fox, A coelstion was therefore brought about by means of Edmund Burke, the mutual friend of both, for the purpose of creatie & majority against administration.--This was that celebrated coalition, against which every party joined in mutaal rocrimination. On the debate of the preliminary articles of peace, (February 17, 1783.) Mr. Sheridan had warmly $ conded Lord John Cavendish, in an amendment of the address, which went to omit the approval of the treaty. Mi. Pitt, in answer to him, thooght proper to commence his speech with the following exordium : “No man (he said) mired more than he did, the abilities of that Honourable Gentleman, the elegant sallies of his thought, the gay ellfsiony of his fancy, his dramatic turns, and his epigrammatic points: and if they were reserved for the proper slage: they would no doubt receive, what the Honourable Gentleman's abilities always did receive, the plaudits of the tidience: and it would be his fortune, Sui plausu gaudere theatri :' But this was not the proper scene for these tlegancies; and he therefore called the attention of the House to the question," etc. In his reply to this, Mr. Sheridan said, that “On the particular sort of personality which tbe Right Honourable Gentleman had thought proper to make use of, he need not make any comment; the propriety-the taste-the gentlemanly point of it, must have been obron to the House, But (continued he), let me assure the Right Honourable Genuema, that I do now, and will al ang time, when be chooses to repeat this sort of allusion, meet it with the most sincere good humour. Nay,,I will my more-flattered and encouraged by the Right Honourable Gentleman's panegyric on my talents, if ever I agaia edene in the compositions to which he alludes, I may be tempted to an act of presumption-lo attempt an improvement : one of Ben Jonson's best characters-that of the Angry Boy in The Alchymist." The Coalition triumphed for a list, and Mr. Sheridan again returned to place (April 1783), as secrelary to the treasury, of which the Duke of Portland was first Lord. Mr. Fox, at the same time, was secretary for foreign allairs, and Lord North for, the home depertment, while Mr. Burke, as before, was paymaster. In defence of the Bill for the Government of India, of his friend Mr. Fox, Sheridan evinced powers which appeared to astonish equally his auditors and the public The time was however, arrived when the whole men and measures of the English government were to experience a change, and a Sheridan, with his friends, receded into a long exile from power, on Mr. Pili's inore general assumption of it. " lalter gentleman now became rst lord of the treasury and chancellor of the exchequer, with a number of new che racters in the highest de partments of the state. This did not, however, interrupt Mr. Sheridan's career to excellent and importance as a parliamentary orator; for, on the trial of Mr. Hastings, arising out of the disorders in the government of India, on which he had already distinguished himself, he was appointed a manager. The great estimation which he then stood, may be readily conceived by the following enlogium, pronounced on him by Burke, apo exertions in the above business : “He has this day surprised the thousands, who hung with rapture on his accents, such an array of talents, such an exhibition of capacily, such a display of powers, as are unparalleled in the annals oratory; a display that reflected the highest bonour upon himself-lustre upon letters-renown upon parliament upon ihe country. Of all species of rhetoric, of every kind of eloquence ihat has been witnessed or recorded, elast in ancient or modern times; whatever the acuteness of the bar, the dignity of the senate, the solidity of the jadgets seat, and the sacred morality of the palpit, hayc hitherto furnished nothing has surpassed, nothing has equalled, " we have heard this day in Westminster Hall. No holy seer of religion, no sage, no slatesman, no orator, Bome any description whatever,' has come up, in the one instance, to the piire sentiments of morality; ur in the other, That variety of knowledge, force of imagination, propriely and vivacity of allgsion, beauty and elegance of dict

Nee of diction strength and copiousness of style, pathos and sublimity of conception, to which we have this day listened with ardeur and admiration. From poetry up to eloquence there is not a species of composition, of which a complete and pe specimen might not from that single speech be called and collected ”Mr. Fox said, that all he had ever heard or " when compared with it, dwindled into nothing.-Mr. Piut acknowledged, “that he had surpassed all thc eloquence ancient or modern times, and that his speech (on the third charge against Mr. Hastings) possessed every thing that

he power el pius or art could furnish, to agilate and control the human mind." The next great occasion in which the power bis eloquence were called forth, was the question of regency; in which he supported with great dignily the night his Royal Patron. Thronghout the whole of this important period, the Prince of Wales honoured Mr. Sheri his confidence, and which has since remained with a steady constancy. About the same time he also lost his who died at Margate, Augnst 14, 1788. The true friend of liberty, he always displayed himself as a genuine .. During the melancholy period of the naval mutiny, he said "Whatever difference in political sentiments mig vail in the country, the moment was come when itis Majesty had an undoubted right to call' upon all his subject ibeir jealous co-operation in maintaining the due execution of the laws, and in giving every possible efhciency measures of Government." In all questions that regard the liberty of the subject, Mr. Sheridan has ever been | ment and active ; and in questions of commerce and finance, as well as military affairs, he has surprised his imate friends. Mr. Sheridan had, previous to his entering into Parliament, inereased his properly in

as surprised his most in. property in the Theatre

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Royal, Drury Lane, by the parchase of Mr. Lacy's share in the palent, in addition to his own; yet the increased expenses of an establishment calculated for all that was great and gay, rendered the increase of fortune anequal to their support, and produced embarrassments, of which, however they may, on some occasions, delight in the recital, we should not feel warranted in the insertion. In 1799, he lost his lady, who died of a lingering decline. Mr. Wilkes said of her, she was the most modest, pleasing, and delicate flower" he had seen. Once more he lent his aid to the interests of Drury Lane Theatre, as well as the drama al large. In the latter end of the season of 1799, appeared the tragedy of Pizarro, translated from the German of Kotzebue ; but translated with such freedom and additional beauties that it might be said to be his own. It was most happily adapted to the times and to the genius of the British nation, with all the graces and combinations of dramatic interest; hence the applause it met with was unboanded. Notwithstanding the success of the establishment, for which Mr. Sheridan's talents were su ably exerted, its finances were in a stale that required the frequent interference of the Lord Chancellor: the decisions of whom were, however, always to the honour of Mr, Sheridan. It was about this time that he purchased the pleasant villa of Polesden, near Leatherhead, in Surrey, formerly the residence of Admiral Geary; soon after which he was appointed receiver-general of the Dutchy of Cornwall, to His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales. On the retirement of Mr. Pitt, Mr. Sheridan acted as nsual in accordance with Mr. Fox; and on the reluro of Mr. Pitt, to ofice, he did not fail of his wonted rigour against him. On the death of that great statesman, Mr. Fox, after an absence from power of twenty-three years, was, by the unanimous voice of the Sovereign and the people, called into office, and Mr. Sheridan was invited to share the honours of his fricnd. He became a member of the privy council, and treasarer of the navy, and applied himself to the important dalies of his situation with great diligence. But an event soon took place that checked the apparent serenity of his progress, as well as that of his co-partners: this was the death of Mr. Fox. The pleasing prospects which honour, popularity, and power, might have given to the view of Mr. Sheridan, now soon faded before him. On the subject of the Roman Catholic question a difference in the cabinet took place, which occasioned a sudden dissolution of Parliament; in consequence of which Mr. Sheridan again was found in opposition, in wlich he continned. We decline stating the wretchedness of his latter end, as that is now known to all the world.


Comedy by Richard Brinsley Sheridan. Acted at Covent-Garden, 1775. This was the first dramalie piece of an author, who has since reached the highest point of excellence in the least easy and most hazardous species of writing. The present play is formed on a plot unborrowed from any former drama, and contains wit, humour, character, incident, and the principle requisites to constitute a perfect comedy, It, notwithstanding, met with very harsh treatment the first night, and was with difficully allowed a second representation. It has, however, of lale years been always received with great applanse.






vants, etc. ACRES.


Scene. Bath, Time of Action -- Five Hours,


I Fag. No. - Well, honest Thomas, I must Scene I. - A Street in Bath. CoacHMAN puzzle you no farther:- briefly then-Captain crosses the stage.

Absolute and Ensign Beverley are one and the

same person. Enter Fag, looking after him. Coach. The devil they are! Fag. What! Thomas! - Sure 'lis he?-1 Fag. So it is indeed,' Thomas; and the enWhai! Thomas! Thomas!

sign half of my master being on guard at Coach. Hey!-Odd's life! Mr. Fag!--give us present--the captain has nothing to do with me, your hand, my old fellow-servant.

T Coach. So, so!-what, this is some freak, I Fag. Escuse my glove, Thomas;- I'm de- warrant! - Do tell us, Mr. Fag, the meaning vilish glad to see you, my lad: why, muy prince o't-you know I ha' trusted you. of charioteers, you look as hearly!--but who Fag. You'll be secret, Thomas ? the deuce thought of seeing you in Bath? Coach. As a coach-horse.

Coach. Sure, master, Madam Julia, Harry, Fag. Why then the cause of all this is Mrs. Kate, and the postillion, be all come. Love,-Love, Thomas, who (as you may get Fag. Indeed!

read to you) has been a masquerader ever Coach. Ay! master thought another fit of since the days of Jupiter. the gout was coming to make him a visit;-) Coach. Ay, ay!-I guess'd there was a lady so he'd a mind to gi't the slip, and whip! we in the case:--but pray, why does your master were all off at an hour's warning.

pass only for ensign--now if he had shamm'd Fag. Ay, ay! hasty in every thing, or it general indeed would not be Sir Anthony Absolute! ✓ Fag. Ah! Thomas, there lies the mystery

Coach. But tell us, Mr. Fag, how does o'tbe malter. Hark'ee, Thomas, my master is young master? Odd! Sir Anthony will stare in love with a lady of a very singular taste: to see the captain here!

la lady who likes him better as a half-pay Fag. I do not serve Captain Absolute now.-ensign than if she knew he was son and heir Coach. Why sure!

to Sir Anthony Absolute, a baronel of three Fag. At present I am employed by Ensign thousand a year.. Beverley.

| Coach. That is an odd taste indeed! but Coach. I doubt, Mr. Fag, you ha'n't changed has she got the stuff, Mr. Fag? is she rich, hey? for the better.

Fag. Rich! why, I believe she owns half Fag. I have not changed, Thomas. the stocks! Zounds! Thomas, she could pay the

Coach. No! why didn't you say you bad national debt as easily as I could my wasberleft young master?

woman! - She has a lap-dog that eats out of gold, --she feeds her parrot with small pearls,-|Scene II. - A Dressing-room in MRS. MAand all her thread-papers are made of bank

LAPROP'S Lodgings. noes!

Coach. Bravo, faith!-Odd! I warrant she LYDIA sitting on a Sofa, with a book in her has a set of thousands at least:- but does she Hand. Lucy, as just returned from a draw kindly with the captain ?

Message. | Fag. As fond as pigeons.

Lucy. Indeed, ma'am, I traversed half the Coach. May one hear her name?

town in search of it: I don't believe there's Fag. Miss Lydia Languish.-But there is an a circulating library in Bath I ha'n't been at old tough aunt' in the way;-though, by the Lydia. And could not you get “The Reward by, she has never seen my master-for we got of Constancy?” acquainted with miss while on a visit in Lucy. No, indeed, ma'am. Gloucestershire.

Lydia. Nor "The Fatal Connexion?" Coach. \Vell—I wish they were once har- Lucy. No, indeed, ma'am. nessed together in matrimony.-But pray, Mr. Lydia. Nor “The Mistakes of the Heart?" Fag, what kind of a place is this Baih?- I ha' Lucy. Ma'am, as ill luck would have it, Mr. heard a deal of it -- here's a mort o'merry- Bull said Miss Sukey Saunter had just fetched making, hey?

it away. Fag. Pretty well, Thomas, pretty well—'tis Lydia. Heigh-ho? - Did you inquire for a good lounge; in ihe morning we go to the "The Delicate Distress?”. pump-room (though neither my master nor I Lucy. Or, “The Memoirs of Lady Wooddrink the walers); after breakfast we saunler ford ? " Yes, indeed, ma'am. I asked every on the 'parades, or play a game at billiards; where for it; and I might have brought it at night we dance; but damn the place, I'm from Mr. Frederick's, but Lady Slaltern Lounger, tired of it: their regular hours stupefy me, who had just sent it home, had so soiled and not a fiddle nor a card after eleven!-how-dog's-ear'd it, it wa'n't fit for a Christian to read. ever, Mr. Fanlkland's gentleman and I keep Lydia. Heigh-bo!-Yes, I always know when it up a little in private parties; - I'll in- Lady Slattern has been before me. She has troduce you there, Thomas - you'll like him a most observing thumb; and, I believe, chemuch.

Irishes her nails for the convenience of making Coach. Sure I know Mr. Du-Peigne - marginal notes.-Well, child, what have you you know his master is to marry Nadam brought me? Julia.

Lucy. Oh! here, ma'am. [Taking books Fag. I had forgot.-But, Thomas, you must from under her cloak, and from her pockets. polish a little-indeed you must-Jlere now- This is “The Gordian Knot,"—and this «Pereihis wig! - what the devil do you do with a grine Pickle” Here are “The Tears of Senwig, Thomas? - none of the London whips of sibility," and "Humpbrey Clinker." This is any degree of ton wear wigs now.

"The Memoirs of a Lady of Quality, written Coach. More's the pity! more's the pity, I by herself," and here the second volume of say-Odd's life! when I heard how the lawyers “The Sentimental Journey," and doctors had took to their own hair, 1 Lydia. Heigh-ho!- What are those books thought how 'twould go next:-Odd rabbit'it! by the glass ? when the fashion had got foot on the Bar, 1 Lucy. The great one is only “The Whole guess'd 'would mount to the Box! - but 'tis Duty of Man," where I press a few blonds, all out of character, believe me, Mr. Fag: and ma'am. look'ee, I'll never gi' up mine - the lawyers Lydia. Very well-give me the sal volatile. and doctors may do as they will."

| Lucy. Is it in a blue cover, ma'am ? Fag. Well, Thomas, we'll not quarrel Lydia. My smelling-bottle, you simplelon! about that.

1 Lucy. O, ihe drops !-bere ma'am. Coach. Wby, bless you, the gentlenien of Lydia. Hold !-here's some one coming they professions ben't all of a mind - for in quick, see who it is - [Exit Lucyl Surely I our village now, thoff Jack Gauge the excise- beard my cousin Julia's voice! [Re-enter Lucr. man has ta'en to his carrots ?), there's little Lucy. Lud! ma'am, here is Miss Melville. Dick the farrier swears he'll never forsake his Lydia. Is it possible! bob, tho' all the college should appear with their own heads!

Enter JULIA. Fag. Indeed! well said, Dick! but hold - Lydia. My dearest Julia, how delighted am mark! mark! Thomas.

I! [Embrace] How unexpected was this bapCoach. Zooks! 'tis the captain-Is that the piness! lady with him?

Julia. True, Lydia-and our pleasure is the Fag. No! no! that is Madam Lucy - my greater; — but what has been the matter? master's inistress's maid. They lodge at that you were denied to me at first! house - but I must after him to tell him the Lydia. Ab, Julia, I have a thousand things

to tell you! — but first inform me wbat has Coach. Odd! he's giving her money!-well, conjured you to Bath?-Is Sir Anthony bere? Mr. Fag

Julia. He is we are arrived within this Fag. Good bye, Thomas. I have an ap-hour-and I suppose he will be here to wait pointment in Gyde's Porch this evening at on Mrs. Malaprop as soon as he is dress'd. eight; meet me there, and we'll make a little Lydia, Tben before we are interrupted, let party.

[Exeunt severally. me impart to you some of my distress!-I

know your genile nature will sympathize with 1) Red bair.

Ime, though your prudence may condemn me


-My letters have informed you of my whole Anthony), yet have you, for this long year, connexion with Beverley; - but I have lost been a slave to the caprice, the whim, the him, Julia !-my aunt has discovered our inter-jealousy of this ungrateful Faulkland, who will course by a note she intercepted, and has con-ever delay assuming the right of a husband, fined me ever since !--Yet, would you believe while you suffer him to be equally imperious it? she has fallen absolutely in love with a as a lover. tall Irish baronet she met one night since we Julia. Nay, you are wrong entirely. We have been here at Lady Macshufile's rout. were contracted before my father's death. Julia. You jest, Lydia! "

That, and some consequent embarrassments, Lydia. No, upon my word! - She really have delayed what I know to be my Faulkcarries on a kind of correspondence with him, land's most ardent wish. He is too generous under a feigned name though, till she chooses to trifle on such a point. — And for his chato be known to him;—but it is a Delia or a racter, you wrong him there too. No, Lydia, Celia, I assure you.

The is too proud, too noble to be jealous; if Julia. Then, surely, she is now more in-she is captious, 'tis without dissembling; if fretdulgent to her niece.

ful, without rudeness. Unused to be fopLydia. Quite the contrary. Since she has peries of love, he is negligent of the little discovered her own frailty, she is become more duties expected from a lover — but being unsuspicious of mine. Then I must inform you backneyed in the passion, his affection is ardent of another plague ! - That odious Acres is to and sincere; and as it engrosses his whole be in Bath to-day; so that I protest I shall be soul, he expects every thought and emotion teased out of all spirits!

of his mistress to move in unison with his. Julia. Come, come, Lydia, hope for the Yet, though his pride calls for this full return, best-Sir Anthony shall use his interest with his humility makes him undervalue those quaMrs. Malaprop.

lities in him which would entitle him to it; Lydia. But you have not heard the worst. and not feeling why he should be loved to Unfortunately I had quarrelled with my poor the degree he wishes, he still suspects that he Beverley, just before my aunt made the dis- is not loved enough:- This temper, I must covery, and I have not seen him since, to own, has cost me many unbappy hours; but make it up.

I have learned to think myself his debtor, for Julia. What was his offence?

those imperfections which arise from the arLydia. Nothing at all! But, I don't know dour of his attachment. how it was, as often as we had been together, Lydia. Well, I cannot blame you for dewe bad never had a quarrel !--And, somehow, fending him. But tell me candidly, Julia, had I was afraid he would never give me an op-she never saved your life, do you think you portunity. --So, last Thursday, I wrote a letter should have been attached to him as you are? to myself, to inform myself that Beverley was Believe me, the rude blast that overset your at that time paying his addresses to another boat was a prosperous gale of love to him, woman. I signed it "your friend unknown," Julia. Gratitude may have strengthened my showed it to Beverley, charged him with his attachment to Mr. Faulkland, but I loved him falsehood, put myself in a violent passion, and before he had preserved me; yet surely that vowed I'd never see him more.

alone were an obligation susficientJulia. And you let him depart so, and have Lydia. Obligation!-- Why a water-spaniel not seen him since?

would have done as much! - Well, I should Lydia. Twas the next day my aunt found never think of giving my heart to a man bethe matter out. I intended only to bare tea-cause he could swim! sed him three days and a half, and now I've Julia. Come, Lydia, you are too inconlost bim for ever.

siderate. Julia. If he is as deserving and sincere as Lydia. Nay, I do but jest.-What's here? you have represented him to me, he will never give you up so. Yet consider, Lydia, you tell!

Enter LUCY in a hurry. me he is but an cnsign, and you bare thirty'. Lucy. O ma'am, here is Sir Anthony Absothousand pounds!

llule just come home with your aunt. Lydia. 'But you know I lose most of myi Lydia. They'll not come here. - Lucy, do fortune if I marry without my aunt's consení, you watch.

[Exit Lucy. till of age; and that is what I have determined Julia. Yet I must go. Sir Anthony does to do, ever since I knew the penalty. Nor not know I am bere, and if we meet, he'll could I love the man, who would wish to detain me, to show me the town. I'll take wait a day for the alternative.

another opportunity of paying my respects to Julia. Nay, this is caprice!

Mrs. Malaprop,' when she shall treat me, as Lydia. What, does Julia lax me' with ca- long as she chooses, with her select words so price? - 1 thought her lover Faulkland bad ingeniously misapplied, without being misinured her to it.

pronounced. Julia. I do not love even his faults. Lydia. But à propos-you have sent to him,

Re-enter Lucy. I suppose ?

Lucy. O Lud! ma'am, they are both coming Julia. Not yet, upon my word-nor has he up stairs. the least idea of my being in Bath. Sir An- Lydia. Well, I'll not detain you, coz.thony's resolution was so sudden, I could not Adieu, my dear Julia, I'm sure you are in inform him of it

baste to send to Faulkland. — There-through Lydia. Well, Julia, you are your own my room you'll find another staircase. mistress (though under the protection of Sir Julia. Adieu! [Embrace. Exit Julia. Lydia. llere, my dear Lucy, hide these fore marriage as if he'd been a black-a-moor books. Quick, quick,-Fling “Peregrine Pickle”, -and yet, miss, you are sensible what a wife under the toilet -- throw "Roderick Random” I made!-and when it pleased Heaven to reinto the closet-put “The innocent Adultery" lease me from him, 'tis unknown what lears into “The Whole Duty of Man"-thrust "Lord I shed !-But suppose we were going to give Aimworth" under the sofa-cram “Ovid” be- you another choice, will you promise us to hind the bolster - there - put “The Man of give up this Beverley? Feeling" into your pocket-so, so-now lay Lydia. Could I belie my thoughts so far “Mrs. Chapone" 1) in sight, and leave “For- as to give that promise, my actions would dyce's Sermons” open on the table.

certainly as far belie my words. Lucy. O burn it, ma'am, the hairdresser Mrs. Mat. Take yourself to your roombas torn away as far as "Proper Pride." You are fit company for nothing but your

Lydia. Never mind-open at "Sobriety.”_own ill-humours. Fling me "Lord Chesterfield's Letters."-Now Lydia, Willingly, ma'am-I cannot change for 'em.

for the worse.

[Exit Lydia.

Mrs. Mal. There's a little intricate bussy Enter Mrs. MALAPROP and Sir ANTHONY for you! ABSOLUTE,

Sir Anth. It is not to be wondered at Mrs. Mal. There, Sir Anthony, there sits ma'am,mall this is tbe natural conscquence of the deliberale simpleton, who wants to dis- teaching girls to read. Had I a thousand grace ber family, and lavish 2) herself on a daughters, by heaven! I'd as soon have them fellow not worth a shilling.

taught the black art as their alphabet! Lydia. Madam, I thought you once | Mrs. Mal. Nay, nay, Sir Anthony, you are

Mrs. Mal. You thought, miss! I don't know an absolute misanthropy ?). any business you have to think at all-thought Sir Anth. In my way hither, Mrs. Malaprop, does not become a young woman. But the I observed your niece's maid coming forth point we would request of you is, that you from a circulating library! She had a book will promise to forget this fellow - to illite-l in each hand-they were balf-bound volumes, rate 3) him, I say, quite from your memory. with marble covers! - From that moment !

Lydia. Ah, madam! our memories are in-guessed how full of duty I should see ber dependent of our wills. It is not so easy to mistress! forget.

Mrs. Mal. Those are vile places, indeed!. Mrs. Mal. But I say it is, miss; there is Sir Anth, Madam, a circulating library in nothing on earth so easy as to forget, if ala town is, as an evergreen tree of diabolical person chooses to set about it. I'm sure I knowledge! It blossoms through the year! have as much forgot your poor dear uncle, as And depend on it, Mrs. Malaprop, that they if he had never existed--and I thought it my who are so fond of handling the leaves, will duly so to do; and let me tell you, Lydia, long for the fruit at last. these violeat memories don't become a young! Mrs. Mal. Fie, fie, Sir Anthony, you surely woman..

speak laconically 2). Sir Anth. Why sure she won't pretend to Sir Anth. Why, Mrs. Malaprop, in moderemember what she's ordered not! - ay, this ration, now, what would you have a woman comes of her reading!

know? Lydia. What crime, madam, have I com- Mrs. Mal. Observe me, Sir Anthony. mitted, to be treated thus?

would by no means wish a daughter of mine Mrs. Mal. Now don't attempt to extirpate *); to be a progeny 3) of learning; I don't think yourself from the matter; you know I have so much learning becomes a young woman: proof controvertible 5) of it.-But tell me, will for instance, I would never let her meddle you promise to do as you're bid? Will you with Greek, or Hebrew, or Algebra, or Stake a husband of your friend's choosing? Imony, or Fluxions, or Paradoxes, or such 10.

Lydia. Madam, I must tell you plainly, that flammatory branches of learning-neither would had I no prefererce for any one else, the lit be necessary for her to handle any of your choicc you have made would be my aversion. mathematical, astronomical, diabolical instru:

Mrs. Mal. What business have you, miss,ments 4): -- But, Sir Anthony, I would send with preference and aversion! They don't her, at 'nine years old, to a boarding-school become a young woman; and you ought to in order to learn a little ingenuity 5) and artiknow, that as both always wear off, 'tis safestfice. Then, sir, she should bare a supercilious") in matrimony to begin with a little aversion. knowledge in accounts;--and as she grew up: I am sure I bated your poor dear uncle be- I would have her instructed in geometry ) 1) These books are introduced in such a manner. Whed that she might know something of the con

they produce either a very whimsical contrast, or an aplness of allusion; for instance, Peregrine Pickle, as a lady's man, can have no belter place than the Inilet; Roderick Random's peregrinations are confined to the closel; the innocent Adultery is not the most proper thing in the whole duty of man: Loud Aimworth (see Maid of the Mill) has debased bimself by a mésalliance; Ovid is to attend the dreams of the lovenick maid; and the Man of Feeling is to direct our charities. Mrs. Chapone has written advice to young know; and I don't think there is a super women opon marriage, ele.

stitious 11) article in it. s) Now for Mrs. Malaprop's "words so ingeniously mis- u Misanibronist. 2) Ironically. 3) Prodigy. applied, without being mispronounced." We can be

the old lady is completely out of her depth. Javish of any thing, but we must throw away onrselves.

nuousness. 6) Superficial. 7) Geography. 8) Contiguou 5) Obliterate. 4) Extricate. 5) Incontrovertible. I 9) Orthography. 10) Comprehend. . 11) Superdue



This, Sir


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