and am resolved [raising his voice] to find the other Mrs. H. The fright will certainly kill me. Tony. Do you see any thing like a black hat mov-out. ing behind the thicket? Mrs. H. O death! Tony. No, it's only a cow. mamma! don't be afraid. Mrs. H. As I'm alive, Tony, I towards us. Ah! I'm sure on't. we are undone. Don't be afraid, see a man coming If he perceives us Toxy. Father-in-law, by all that's unlucky, come to take one of his night walks. [Aside.] Ah, it's a highwayman, with pistols as long as my arm. A damn'd ill looking fellow. Mrs. H Good heaven defend us! he approaches. Tony. Do you hide yourself in that thicket, and leave me to manage him. If there be any danger I'll cough and cry hem. When I cough be sure to keep close. [Mrs. H. hides behind a tree. Enter HARDCASTLE. Hard. I'm mistaken, or I heard voices of people in want of help. O, Tony, is that you? I did not expect you so soon back. Are your mother and her charge in safety? Tony. Very safe, sir, at my aunt Pedigree's. Hem. Mrs. H. [From behind] Ah, death! I find there's danger. Hard. Forty miles in three hours; sure, that's too much, my youngster. Tony. Stout horses and willing minds make short journeys, as they say. Hem. Mrs. H. [From behind] Sure, he'll do the dear boy no harm. Hard. But I heard a voice here; I should be glad to know from whence it came ? Tony. It was I, sir, talking to myself, sir. I was saying that forty miles in three hours was very good Loing. Hem. As to be sure it was. Hem. I have ot a sort of cold by being out in the air. We'll go in, if you please. Hem. Hard. But if you talked to yourself, you did not answer yourself. I am certain I heard two voices, Mrs. H.. [Running forward from behind] O lud, he'll murder my poor boy, iny darling. Here, good gentleman, whet your rage upon me. Take my money, my life, but spare that young gentleman, spare my child, if you have any mercy. Hard. My wife! as I am a christian. From whence can she come, or what does she mean! Mrs. H. [Kneeling] Take compassion on us, good Mr. Highwayman. Take our money, our watches, all we have, but spare our lives. We will never bring you to justice, indeed we won't, good Mr. Highwayman. Hard. I believe the woman's out of her senses. What, Dorothy, don't you know me? Mrs. H. Mr. Hardcastle, as I'm alive! My fears blinded me. But who, my dear, could have expected to meet you here, in this frightful place, so far from home? What has brought you to follow us? Hard. Sure, Dorothy, you have not lost your wits. So far from home, when you are within forty yards of your own door. [To Tony] This is one of your old tricks, you graceless rogue you. [To Mrs. H.] Don't you know the gate and the mulbery-tree; and don't you remember the horsepond, my dear? Mrs. H. Yes, I shall remember the horsepond as long as I live; I have caught my death in it. [To Tony] And it is to you, you graceless varlet, I owe all this. I'll teach you to abuse your mother, I will. Tony. Ecod, mother, all the parish says you have spoiled me, and so you may take the fruits on't. Mrs. H. I'll spoil you, I will. [Beats him off. Hard. Ha ha! ha! [She Stoops to Conquer. CAPTAIN BEAUGARD AND CALEB QUOTEM. Quo. Captain, your most obedient. Quo. My name, sir, is Caleb Quotem, at your service. My father was well known in this parish, and the country round, as the poet says-sexton and crier here, thirty years and upwards. By trade a plumber and glazier, to which I have added many others; as auctioneer, schoolmaster, engraver, watch-maker, sign-painter, &c. &c. Talking of signs puts me in Inind of the zodiac.-You must know I am allowed to possess some knowledge of the sciences; globes, terrestrial and celestial, telescopes, and household furniture ;-understand all sorts of fixtures, magnets, marble slabs, polar stars, and corner cupboards. Beau. Damn the fellow !-he has travelled over both hemispheres, and now fixed himself in a corner cupboard! But pray, what may your business be with me, sir? Quo. My business is that of my father's, as Shakspeare says; but my reason for attending you is talking of reason, puts me in mind of the man in Bedlam, who swore all mankind were mad, for they had locked him up, and he could not divine the cause; now this man, as the poet says, had "cool reason on his side." Talking of side, puts me in mind of myself I am beside myself that is, I threw myself beside you, to express how much I am " your humble servant," as Dryden says. Beau. A mighty expressive sentence, truly, Mr. Quotem. Quo. Captain, I shall be happy to serve you on all occasions-1 can inake or mend pumps, or windows, paint cupboards, or carriages, repair watches or weather-glasses-in short, (as a great author says,) "I'm up to every thing." Talking of every thing, I write ballads and epitaphs; cut tombstones and sell coffin furniture-shall be glad to serve you with any of the last articles at the lowest price, as the poet says. Beau. I hope I sha'nt trouble you for any of the last articles soon, Mr. Quotem ;-your town of Windsor is very wholesome. Quo. The air is salubrious, and the fields look green, as Pope says. Yet somehow or other people drop away very speedily. p Quo. When none of the faculty are neighbours call me in, being very near seven p ents-my house-churchyard. Beau. Churchyard!--Oh! very near yo ents, I dare say. Quo. Ha! ha! come that's a good one-, boy, concerned in every thing, flimsy fat weighty matters. How do you think I e hours? A day, now, a summer's day, as says. Beau. I can't guess, indeed. Quo. Morning, rise at five-father not to church-ring bell-back to school-look re boy's accounts-teach children catechis at eight-swallow muffins-play tune-Gat or fiddle-fright jackdaws from chicken yard-dig graves till ten run to perfo strayed cattle-make out registers, matang ham and certificates, till eleven-home-s on fire-away I go-round for prayers-beg I on with surplice-run to school-whip beys" back time enough to cry Amen.my forenoon, as Congreve says. Beau. Forenoon! Zounds, man, you day's work already. Quo. Talking of work-dine at onepound rosin or rhubarb-same mortar-BJA of putty-box of pills-pint of paint-dese mend sash or sideboard-repair sun-charge a blot out seven stars-squint at time-piece-~ wheel to watch, and weights to kitchen cit to hour glass-main-spring to watch, er s Beau. Why you seem the very picture of health. pump. Thus passes my time till fom-berg *| Quo. That is chiefly owing to a part of my pro-haps-never out of the way-boys toll bel-60 fession or rather my father's profession, at which I to chime in-assist in the service anthem f always assist. "Dust to dust"-go home and play at buff with boys till six. Beau. What's that? Beau. What a devil of a fellow is this! Dr. C. Ah! thou heavenly woman! Quo. At six, as the poet says, attend at the great They are indeed come to prodigious perfection in all room-auctioneer-knock down household goods-manufactures; how wonderful is human art! Here going, going, gone !-to my shop-cut tombstones-it disputes the prize with nature that all this soft write epitaphs, to amuse myself-set 'em to music-and gaudy lusture should be wrought from the labours feed hogs-coop hens-drive ducks from the pond-of a poor worm! sunset-night comes on-shut up shop, school, and Lady L. But our business, sir, is upon another vestry-night curfew-go home-chimney corner-subject: sir John informs me, that he thinks himself call my wife-stir fire-draw cork-smoke pipe-under no obligations to Mr. Darnley, and therefore quaff-crack joke-laugh-lie down-or, to make resolves to give his daughter to you." out time, "Wind up the clock," as Yorick says. Thus ends the history of a day. Beau. Thank heaven his day is done, as the poet Bays-and here comes one to prevent his beginning another. Review. AN HYPOCRITE'S ATTEMPT TO SEDUCE HIS FRIEND'S WIFE. Enter DOCTOR CANTWELL AND LADY LAMBERT. Dr. C. Here I am, madam, at your ladyship's command; how happy am I that you think me worthyLady L. Please to sit, sir. Dr. C. Such a thing has been mentioned, madam; but, to deal sincerely with you, that is not the happiness I sigh after; there is a soft and serious excellence for me, very different from what your stepdaughter possesses. Lady. L. Well, sir, pray be sincere and open your heart to me. Dr. C. Open my heart! can you then, sweet lady, be yet a stranger to it? Has no action of my life been able to inform you of my real thoughts? Lady L. Well, sir, I take all this, as I suppose you intend it, for my good and spiritual welfare. Dr. C. Indeed I mean your cordial service. Lady L. I dare say you do: you are above the low, momentary views of this world. Dr. C. Well but, dear lady, ha! You can't conecive the joyousness I feel at this so much desired interview. Ah! ah! I have a thousand friendly things to say to you: and how stands your precious Dr. C. Why, I should be so; and yet, alas! I find health is your naughty cold abated yet? I have this mortal clothing of my soul is made like other scarce closed my eyes these two nights with my con-mens', of sensual flesh and blood, and has its frailties. cern for you. Lady L. Your charity is too far concerned for me. Dr. C. Ah! don't say so; don't say so; you merit more than mortal man can do for you. Lady L. Indeed you overrate me. Dr. C. I speak it from my heart: indeed, indeed, indeed I do. Lady L. O dear! you hurt my hand, sir. Dr. C. Impute it to my zeal, and want of words for expression: precious soul! I would not hurt you for the world: no, it would be the whole business of my life Lady L. But to the affair I would speak to you about. 263 Lady L. We all have those, but yours are well corrected by your divine and virtuous contemplations. Dr. C. Alas! madam, my heart is not of stone: I may resist, call all my prayers, my fastings, tears and penance to my aid; but yet, I am not an augel; I am still but a man; and virtue may strive, but nature will be uppermost. I love, you madam. Lady L. Ah, doctor, what have you done to me? the trouble of my mind is not to be expressed. You have indeed discovered to me what, perhaps, for my own peace 'twere better I had never been acquainted with but I had not an opportunity to lay my heart open to you. Dr. C. Ah! do not endeavour to decoy my foolish heart, too apt to flatter itself. You cannot sure think kindly of me! So. Lady L. Well, well, I would have you imagine Dr. C. Besides, may I not with reason suspect, that this apparent goodness is but artifice; a shadow of compliance, meant only to persuade me from your daughter. Lady L. Methinks this doubt of me seems rather founded on your settled resolution not to resign her.I am convinced of it. I can assure you, sir, I should have saved you this trouble, had I known how deeply you were engaged to her. Dr. C. Tears then I must believe you-But indeed you wrong me. I have myself pressed sir John to give Charlotte to young Darnley. Lady L. Mere artifice. You knew that modest resignation would make sir John warmer in your interest. Dr. C. No, indeed, indeed. I had other motives, which you may hereafter be made acquainted with, and will convince you Lady L. Well, sir, now I'll give you reason to guess why, at our last meeting, I pressed you so warmly to resign Charlotte. Dr. C. Ah dear! ah dear! Lady L. You cannot blame me for having opposed your happiness, when my own, perhaps, depended upon it. Dr. C. Spare me, spare me; you kill me with this kindness. Lady L. But now that I have discovered my weakness, be secret; for the least imprudence―― Dr. C. It is a vain fear. Lady L. Call it not vain; my reputation is dearer to me than life. Dr. C. Where can it find so sure a guard? The grave austerities of my life will dumb-found suspicion, and yours may defy detraction. Lady L. Well, doctor, 'tis you must answer for my folly. Dr. C. I take it all upon myself. with me. you! Had I not been the weakest of mankud pa Sir J. Ungrateful wretch! but why do I reproa never could have proved so great a villain. Get est is it tells you, that if you stay much longer, I shal of my sight, leave my house: of all my follies, aná not be tempted to wrest you out of the bands of the law and punish you as you deserve AFFECTIONATE COURTSHIP. BETTY, CHARLOTTE, and DR. CANTWELL Bet. Doctor Cantwell desires to be admitted, madam. Char. Let him come in. Dr. C. Look ye, young lady, I am afraid, notw standing your good father's favour, I am not the you would desire to be alone with upon this occas Char. Your modesty is pleased to be in the rega Dr. C. I'm afraid too, notwithstanding all my ra deavours to the contrary, that you entertain a piecy Lady L. But there's one thing still to be afraid of. bad opinion of me. Dr. C. Nothing, nothing, Char. A worse, sir, of no mortal breathing. Dr. C. Which opinion is immoveable. Dr. C. I am afraid then it will be a vain pursuit, when I solicit you, in compliance with my worthy friend's desire and my own inclinations, to become my partner in that blessed estate in which we may be a comfort and support to each other. Char. I would die rather than consent to it. Dr. C. Well, there is sincerity at least in your confession: you are not, I see, totally deprived of all virtue, though I must say I never could perceive in you but very little. Char. Oh, fie! you flatter me. Dr. C. No, I speak it with sorrow, because you are the daughter of my best friend. But how are we to proceed now? are we to preserve temper ? Char. Oh! never fear me, sir, I shall not fly out, being convinced that nothing gives so sharp a point to one's aversion as good breeding; as, on the contrary, ill manners often hide a secret inclination. Dr. C. Well then, young lady, be assured so far am I from the unchristian disposition of returning injuries that your antipathy to me causes no hatred in my soul towards you; on the contrary, I would willingly make you happy, if it may be done according to my conscience, with the interest of heaven in view. Char. Why, I can't see, sir, how heaven can be any way concerned in a transaction between you and me. Dr. C. When you marry any other person, my consent is necessary. Char. So I hear, indeed! but pray, doctor, how could your modesty receive so insolent a power, with-out putting my poor father out of countenance with your blushes? Dr. C. I sought it not; but he would crowd it among other obligations. He is good natured; and I oresaw it might serve to pious purposes. Char. I don't understand you. Dr. C. My conscience will not suffer me. I know you to be both luxurious and worldly-minded; and you would squander upon the vanities of the world, those treasures which ought to be better laid out. Char. Hum!--I believe I begin to conceive you. Dr. C. If you can think of any project to satisfy my conscience, I am tractable. You know there is a considerable moiety of your fortune which goes to my lady in case of our disagreement. Char. That's enough, sir.-You think we should have a fellow feeling in it. At what sum do you rate your concurrence to my inclinations? that settled, I am willing to strike the bargain. Dr. C. What do you think of half? Dr. C. Why, you know you gain two thousand pounds; and really the severity of the times for the poor, and my own stinted pittance, which cramps my charities, will not suffer me to require less. Char. But how is my father to be brought into this? Char. That you immediately tell my father that you are willing to give up your interest to Mr. Darnley. Dr. C. Hum-stay-I agree to it; but in the mean time, let me warn you, child, not to expect to turn that, or what has now passed between us, to my Dr. C. I take it for granted, that you would marry confusion, by sinister construction, or evil representMr. Daruley. Am I right? ation to your father. I am satisfied of the piety of |