Lyd. Willingly, ma'am-I cannot change for the worse. [Eat Lydia. Mal. There's a little intricate hussy for you!

A. Abs. It is not to be wondered at, ma'am,-all this is the natural consequence of teaching girls to read. Had I a thousand daughters, by Heaven! I'd as soon have them taught the black art as their alphabet! But, Mrs. Malaprop, to the more important point in debate-you say, you have no objection to my proposal?

Mal. None, I assure you. I am under no positive engagement with Mr. Acres, and as Lydia is so obstinate against him, perhaps your son may have better

success.

A. Abs. Well, madam, I will write for the boy directly. He knows not a syllable of this yet, though I have for some time had the proposal in my head. He is at present with his regiment.

Mal. We have never seen your son, Sir Anthony; but I hope no objection on his side.

A. Abs. Objection!-let him object if he dare! No, no, Mrs. Malaprop, Jack knows that the least demur puts me in a phrensy directly. My process was always very simple; in his younger days, 'twas 'Jack, do this:'-if he demurred, I knocked him down; and if he grumbled at that, I always sent him out of the room.

Mal. Ay, and the properest way, o'my conscience! nothing is so conciliating to young people as severity. Well, Sir Anthony, I shall give Mr. Acres his discharge, and prepare Lydia to receive your son's invocations; and I hope you will represent her to the captain as an object not altogether illegible.

A. Abs. Madam, I will handle the subject prudently. Well, I must leave you; and let me beg you, Mrs. Malaprop, to enforce this matter roundly to the girl-take my advice-keep a tight hand; if she rejects this proposal, clap her under lock and key; and if you were just to let the servant forget to bring her dinner for three or four days, you can't conceive how she'd come [Exit Sir Anthony.

about.

Mal. So, come to me presently, and I'll give you another letter to Sir Lucius; but mind, Lucy-if ever you betray what you are instrusted with (unless it be other people's secrets to me), you forfeit my malevolence for ever; and your being a simpleton shall be no excuse for your locality. [Exit Mrs. Malaprop.

Luc. Ha ha! So, my dear simplicity, let me give you a little respite.-(Altering her manner.) Let girls in my station be as fond as they please of appearing expert, and knowing in their trusts; commend me to a mask of silliness; and a pair of sharp eyes for my own interest under it! Let me see to what account have I turned my simplicitylately (Looks at a paper.) For abetting Miss Lydia Languish in a design of running away with an ensign!-in money, sundry times, twelve pound twelve; gowns, five; hats, ruffles, caps, &c., &c., numberless! From the said ensign, within this last month, six guineas and a half.'-About a quarter's pay. Item, 'from Mrs. Malaprop, for betraying the young people to her'when I found matters were likely to be discovered 'two guineas, and a black paduasoy.'-Item, 'from Mr. Acres, for carrying divers letters-which I never

see you.

C. Abs. And what did he say, on hearing I was at Bath?

Fag. Sir, in my life I never saw an elderly gentleman more astonished! He started back two or three paces, rapt out a dozen interjectural oaths, and asked what the devil had brought you here?

C. Abs. Well, sir, and what did you say?

Fag. Oh, I lied, sir-I forget the precise lie; but you may depend on't he got no truth from me. Yet, with submission, for fear of blunders in future, I should be glad to fix what has brought us to Bath, in order that we may lie a little consistently.-Sir Anthony's servants were curious, sir, very curious, indeed.

C. Abs. You have said nothing to them?

Fag. Oh, not a word, sir, not a word. Mr. Thomas, indeed, the coachman (whom I take to be the discreetest of whips)

C. Abs. 'Sdeath! you rascal! you have not trusted him!

Fag. Oh, no, sir,- -no-no-not a syllable, upon my veracity! he was, indeed, a little inquisitive; but I was sly, sir-devilish sly! My master (said I), honest Thomas (you know, sir, one says

honest to one's inferiors), is come to Bath to recruit-Yes, sir, I said to recruit and whether for men, money, or constitution, you know, sir, is nothing to him, nor any one else.

C. Abs. Well, recruit will do-let it be so.

Fag. Oh, sir, recruit will do surprisingly-indeed, to give the thing an air, I told Thomas, that your Honour had already inlisted five disbanded chairmen, seven minority waiters, and thirteen billiard-markers.

C. Abs. You blockhead, never say more than is necessary.

Fag. I beg pardon, sir-I beg pardon -but, with submission, a lie is nothing unless one supports it. Sir, whenever I draw on my invention for a good current lie, I always forge indorsements as well as the bill.

C. Abs. Well take care you don't hurt your credit, by offering too much security. Is Mr. Faulkland returned? Fag. He is above, sir, changing his dress.

C. Abs. Can you tell whether he has been informed of Sir Anthony's and Miss Melville's arrival?

Fag. I fancy not, sir; he has seen no one since he came in but his gentleman, who was with him at Bristol. I think, sir, I hear Mr. Faulkland coming down

C. Abs. Go, tell him, I am here.

Fag. Yes, sir,-(Going.)-I beg pardon, sir, but should Sir Anthony call, you will do me the favour to remember, that we are recruiting, if you please.

C. Abs. Well, well.

Fag. And in tenderness to my character, if your Honour could bring in the chairmen and waiters, I should esteem it as an obligation; for though I never scruple a lie to serve my master, yet it hurts one's conscience to be found out.

[Exit.

C. Abs. Now for my whimsical friend -if he does not know that his mistress is here, I'll tease him a little before I tell him

Enter Faulkland.

Faulkland, you're welcome to Bath again; you are punctual in your return.

Faulkl. Why don't you persuade her to go off with you at once?

C. Abs. What, and lose two-thirds of her fortune? You forget that, my friend. No, no, I could have brought her to that long ago.

Faulkl. Nay then, you trifle too long -If you are sure of her, propose to the aunt in your own character, and write to Sir Anthony for his consent. C. Abs. Softly, softly; for though I am convinced my little Lydia would elope with me as Ensign Beverley, yet am I by no means certain that she would take me with the impediment of our friends' consent, a regular humdrum wedding, and the reversion of a good fortune on my side: no, no; I must prepare her gradually for the discovery, and make myself necessary to her before I risk it. Well, but Faulkland, you'll dine with us to-day at the hotel? Faulkl. Indeed I cannot; I am not in spirits to be of such a party.

C. Abs. By heavens! I shall forswear your company. You are the most teasing, captious, incorrigible lover! Do love like a man.

Faulkl. I own I am unfit for company. C. Abs. Am not I a lover; ay, and a romantic one too? yet do I carry every where with me such a confounded farrago of doubts, fears, hopes, wishes, and all the flimsy furniture of a country miss's brain!

Faulkl. Ah! Jack, your heart and soul are not, like mine, fixed immutably on one object. You throw for a large stake, but losing, you could stake, and throw again; but I have set my sum of happiness on this cast, and not to succeed, were to be stript of all.

C. Abs. But, for heaven's sake! what grounds for apprehension can your whimsical brain conjure up at present?

Faulkl. What grounds for apprehension, did you say? heavens! are there not a thousand? I fear for her spirits

her health-her life. My absence may fret her; her anxiety for my return, her fears for me, may oppress her gentle temper. And for her health, does not every hour bring me cause to be alarmed? If it rains, some shower may even then have chilled her delicate frame! if the wind be keen, some rude blast may have affected her! the heat of noon, the dews of the evening, may endanger the life of her, for whom only I value mine. O Jack! when delicate and feeling souls are separated, there is not a feature in the sky, not a movement of the elements, not an aspiration of the breeze, but hints some cause for a lover's apprehension!

C. Abs. Ay, but we may choose whether we will take the hint or not. So then, Faulkland, if you were convinced that Julia were well and in spirits, you would be entirely content.

Faulkl. I should be happy beyond measure I am anxious only for that.

C. Abs. Then to cure your anxiety at once-Miss Melville is in perfect health, and is at this moment in Bath. Faulkl. Nay, Jack,-don't trifle with me.

C. Abs. She is arrived here with my father within this hour.

Faulkl. Can you be serious?

C. Abs. I thought you knew Sir Anthony better than to be surprised at a sudden whim of this kind. Seriously then, it is as I tell you-upon my honour.

Faulkl. My dear friend! Hollo, Du Peigne! my hat-my dear Jack-now nothing on earth can give me a moment's uneasiness.

C. Abs. O, very intimate: I insist on your not going; besides, his character will divert you.

Faulkl. Well, I should like to ask him a few questions.

C. Abs. He is likewise a rival of mine-that is, of my other self's, for he does not think his friend Captain Absolute ever saw the lady in question; and it is ridiculous enough to hear him complain to me of one Beverley, a concealed skulking rival who

Faulkl. Hush!-he's here.
Enter Acres.

Acr. Hah! my dear friend, noble captain, and honest Jack, how do'st thou? just arrived, faith, as you see.Sir, your humble servant.-Warm work on the roads, Jack,-Odds whips and wheels! I've travelled like a comet, with a tail of dust all the way as long as the Mall.

C. Abs. Ah! Bob, you are indeed an eccentric planet, but we know your attraction hither-Give me leave to introduce Mr. Faulkland to you; Mr. Faulkland, Mr. Acres.

Acr. Sir, I am most heartily glad to see you: Sir, I solicit your connexions. Hey, Jack-what, this is Mr. Faulkland, who

C. Abs. Ay, Bob, Miss Melville's Mr. Faulkland.

Acr. Od'so! she and your father can be but just arrived before me--I suppose you have seen them. Ah! Mr. Faulkland, you are indeed a happy man.

Faulkl. I have not seen Miss Melville yet, sir; I hope she enjoyed full health and spirits in Devonshire?

Acr. Never knew her better in my life, sir, never better. Odds blushes and blooms! she has been as healthy as the German Spa.

Faulkl. Indeed! I did hear that she had been a little indisposed.

Acr. False, false, sir-only said to vex you quite the reverse, I assure you.

Faulkl. There, Jack, you see she has the advantage of me; I had almost fretted myself ill.

C. Abs. Now are you angry with your mistress for not having been sick?

Faulkl. No, no, you misunderstand me: yet surely a little trifling indisposition is not an unnatural consequence of absence from those we love. Now confess isn't there something unkind in this violent, robust, unfeeling health?

C. Abs. Oh, it was very unkind of her to be well in your absence, to be sure! Acr. Good apartments, Jack.

Faulkl. Well sir, but you was saying that Miss Melville has been so exceedingly well-what then she has been merry and gay, I suppose?-Always in spirits hey?

Acr. Merry, odds crickets! she has been the belle and spirit of the company wherever she has been-so lively and entertaining! so full of wit and humour!

Faulkl. There, Jack, there. Oh, by my soul! there is an innate levity in woman, that nothing can overcome. What! happy and I away!

C. Abs. Have done: how foolish this is! just now you were only apprehensive for your mistress's spirits.

Faulkl. Why, Jack, have I been the joy and spirit of the company?

C. Abs. No indeed, you have not. Faulkl. Have I been lively and entertaining?

C. Abs. Oh, upon my word, I acquit

you.

Faulkl. Have I been full of wit and humour?

C. Abs. No, faith, to do you justice, you have been confoundedly stupid indeed.

Acr. What's the matter with the gentleman?

C. Abs. He is only expressing his great satisfaction at hearing that Julia has been so well and happy-that's all -hey, Faulkland?

Faulkl. Oh! I am rejoiced to hear it—yes, yes, she has a happy disposition!

Acr. That she has indeed-then she is so accomplished-so sweet a voice -so expert at her harpsichord-such a mistress of flat and sharp, squallante, rumblante, and quiverante!-there was this time month-odds minims and crotchets! how she did chirrup at Mrs. Piano's concert!

Faulkl. There again, what say you to this? you see she has been all mirth and song-not a thought of me!

C. Abs. Pho! man, is not music the food of love?

Faulkl. Well, well, it may be so. Pray, Mr.-(Aside.) What's his d-d name?-do you remember what songs Miss Melville sung?

Acr. Not I indeed.

C. Abs. Stay now, they were some pretty melancholy purling-stream airs, I warrant; perhaps you may recollect; did she sing, 'When absent from my soul's delight?'

Acr. No, that wa'n't it.

C. Abs. Or, 'Go, gentle gales!' (Sings.) 'Go, gentle gales!'

Acr. O no! nothing like it.--Odds! now I recollect one of them--My heart's my own, my will is free.' (Sings.)

Faulkl. Fool! fool that I am! to fix all my happiness on such a trifler! 'Sdeath! to make herself the pipe and ballad-monger of a circle! to soothe her light heart with catches and glees! -What can you say to this, sir?

C. Abs. Why, that I should be glad to hear my mistress had been so merry, sir.

Faulkl. Nay, nay, nay-I'm not sorry that she has been happy-no, no, I am glad of that-I would not have had her sad or sick-yet surely a sympathetic heart would have shown itself even in the choice of a song-she might have been temperately healthy, and somehow, plaintively gay; but she has been dancing too, I doubt not!

Acr. What does the gentleman say about dancing?

C. Abs. He says the lady we speak of dances as well as she sings.

Acr. Ay truly, does she-there was at our last race ball

Faulkl. Hell and the devil! there! there I told you so! I told you so! oh! she thrives in my absence! Dancing! but her whole feelings have been in opposition with mine; I have been anxious, silent, pensive, sedentary-my days have been hours of care, my nights of watchfulness. She has been all health!

spirit! laugh! song! dance! Oh! d-n'd, d-n'd levity!

C. Abs. For heaven's sake, Faulkland, don't expose yourself so. Suppose she has danced, what then? does not the ceremony of society often oblige

Faulkl. Well, well, I'll contain myself --perhaps as you say-for form's sake. What, Mr. Acres, you were praising Miss Melville's manner of dancing a minuet-hey?

Acr. Oh, I dare insure her for that but what I was going to speak of was her country-dancing:-Odds swimmings! she has such an air with her!

Faulkl. Now disappointment on her! -defend this, Absolute; why don't you defend this?-Country-dances! jigs and reels! am I to blame now? a minuet I could have forgiven-I should not have minded that I say I should not have regarded a minuet-but country-dances! zounds! had she made one in a cotillon -I believe I could have forgiven even that--but to be monkey-led for a night! to run the gauntlet through a string of amorous palming puppies! to show paces like a managed filly! O Jack, there never can be but one man in the world, whom a truly modest and delicate woman ought to pair with in a country-dance; and even then, the rest of the couples should be her great uncles and aunts!

C. Abs. Ay, to be sure! grandfathers and grandmothers!

Faulkl. If there be but one vicious mind in the set, 'twill spread like a contagion-the action of their pulse beats to the most lively movement of the heart-their quivering, warmbreathed sighs impregnate the very air -the atmosphere becomes electrical to love, and each amorous spark darts through every link of the chain! I must leave you-I own I am somewhat flurried--and that confounded looby has perceived it. (Going.)

C. Abs. Nay, but stay, Faulkland, and thank Mr. Acres for his good news! Faulkl. D-n his news! [Exit Faulkland. C. Abs. Ha! ha! ha! poor Faulkland! five minutes since 'nothing on earth