Honeyw. Hush, hush, he's coming up, he'll hear you.

Jar. One whose voice is a passing-bellHoneyw. Well, well; go, do.

Jar. A raven that bodes nothing but mischief; a coffin and cross bones; a bundle of rue; a sprig of deadly nightshade; a (Honeywood stopping his mouth, at last pushes him off.) [Exit Jarvis. Honeyw. I must own my old monitor is not entirely wrong. There is something in my friend Croaker's conversation that quite depresses me. His very mirth is an antidote to all gaiety, and his appearance has a stronger effect on my spirits than an undertaker's shop. -Mr Croaker, this is such a satisfaction

Enter Croaker.

Croak. A pleasant morning to Mr Honeywood, and many of them. How is this! you look most shockingly to-day, my dear friend. I hope this weather does not affect your spirits. To be sure if this weather continues -I say nothing-But God send we be all better this day three months.

Honeyw. I heartily concur in the wish, though, I own, not in your apprehensions.

Croak. May be not. Indeed, what signifies what weather we have in a country going to ruin like ours? taxes rising and trade falling. Money flying out of the kingdom, and Jesuits swarming into it. I know at this time no less than a hundred and twenty-seven Jesuits between Charing-cross and Temple-bar. Honeyw. The Jesuits will scarce pervert you or me, I should hope.

Croak. May be not. Indeed, what signifies whom they pervert in a country that has scarce any religion to lose? I'm only afraid for our wives and daughters.

Honeyw. I have no apprehensions for the ladies, I assure you.

Croak. May be not. Indeed, what signifies whether they be perverted or no? the women in my time were good for something. I have seen a lady dressed from top to toe in her own manufactures formerly. But now-adays, the devil a thing of their own manufactures about them, except their faces.

Honeyw. But, however these faults may be practised abroad, you don't find them at home, either with Mrs Croaker, Olivia, or Miss Richland?

Croak. The best of them will never be canonized for a saint when she's dead. By the bye, my dear friend, I don't find this match between Miss Richland and my son much relished, either by one side or t'other.

Honeyw. I thought otherwise.

Croak. Ah, Mr Honeywood, a little of your fine serious advice to the young lady might go far I know she has a very exalted opinion of your understanding.

Honeyw. But would not that be usurping on my authority that more properly belongs to yourself?

Croak. My dear friend, you know but little of authority at home. People think, indeed, because they see me come out in the morning thus, with a pleasant face, and to make my friends merry, that all's well within. But I have cares that would break a heart of stone. My wife has so encroached upon every one of my privileges, that I'm now no more than a mere lodger in my own house.

Honeyw. But a little spirit exerted on your side might perhaps restore your authority.

Croak. No, though I had the spirit of a lion! I do rouse sometimes. But what then? always haggling and haggling. A man is tired of getting the better before his wife is tired of losing the victory.

Honeyw. It's a melancholy consideration indeed, that our chief comforts often produce our greatest anxieties, and that an increase of our possessions is but an inlet to new disquietudes.

Croak. Ah, my dear friend, these were the very words of poor Dick Doleful to me not a week before he made away with himself. Indeed, Mr Honeywood, I never see you but you put me in mind of poor Dick. Ah, there was merit neglected for you! and so true a friend! we loved each other for thirty years, and yet he never asked me to lend him a single farthing.

Honeyw. Pray what could induce him to commit so rash an action at last?

Croak. I don't know, some people were malicious enough to say it was keeping company with me; because we used to meet now and then and open our hearts to each other. To be sure I loved to hear him talk, and he loved to hear me talk; poor dear Dick. used to say that Croaker rhymed to joker; and so we used to laugh-Poor Dick.

He

[Going to cry.

Honeyw. His fate affects me. Croak. Ah, he grew sick of this miserable life, where we do nothing but eat and grow hungry, dress and undress, get up and lie down; while reason, that should watch like a nurse by our side, falls as fast asleep as we do.

Honeyw. To say the truth, if we compare that part of life which is to come, by that which we have past, the prospect is hideous.

Croak. Life at the greatest and best is but a froward child, that must be humoured and coaxed a little till it falls asleep, and then all the care is over.

Honeyw. Very true, Sir, nothing can exceed the vanity of her existence, but the folly of our pursuits. We wept when we came into the world, and every day tells us why.

Croak. Ah, my dear friend, it is a perfect satisfaction to be miserable with you. My son Leontine shan't lose the benefit of such fine conversation. I'll just step home for him. I am willing to show him so much seriousress in one scarce older than himself-And what if I bring my last letter to the Gazetteer on the increase and progress of earthquakes? It will

an use us, I promise you. I there prove how | the late earthquake is coming round to pay us another visit, from London to Lisbon, from Lisbon to the Canary Islands, from the Canary Islands to Palmyra, from Palmyra to Constantinople, and so from Constantinople back to London again. [Exit. Honeyw. Poor Croaker! his situation deserves the utmost pity. I shall scarce recover my spirits these three days. Sure to live upon such terms is worse than death itself. And yet, when I consider my own situation, a broken fortune, a hopeless passion, friends in distress, the wish but not the power to serve them-(pausing and sighing.)

Enter Butler.

But. More company below, Sir, Mrs Croaker and Miss Richland; shall I show them up? but they're showing up themselves. [Exit.

Enter Mrs Croaker and Miss Richland. Miss Rich. You're always in such spirits. Mrs Croak. We have just come, my dear Honeywood, from the auction. There was the old deaf dowager, as usual, bidding like a fury against herself. And then so curious in antiquities! herself, the most genuine piece of antiquity in the whole collection.

Honeyw. Excuse me, ladies, if some uneasiness from friendship makes me unfit to share in this good-humour: I know you'll pardon me.

Mrs Croak. I vow he seems as melancholy as if he had taken a dose of my husband this morning. Well, if Richland here can pardon you, I must.

Miss Rich. You would seem to insinuate, Madam, that I have particular reasons for being disposed to refuse it.

Mrs Croak. Whatever I insinuate, my dear, don't be so ready to wish an explanation. Miss Rich. I own I should be sorry Mr Honeywood's long friendship and mine should be misunderstood.

Honeyw. There's no answering for others, Madam. But I hope you'll never find me presuming to offer more than the most delicate friendship may readily allow.

Miss Rich. And I shall be prouder of such a tribute from you, than the most passionate professions from others.

Honeyw. My own sentiments, Madam: friendship is a disinterested commerce between equals; love, an abject intercourse between tyrants and slaves.

Miss Rich. And without a compliment, I know none more disinterested, or more capable of friendship, than Mr Honeywood.

not know, Sir, you were such a favourite there. But is she seriously so handsome? Is she the mighty thing talked of?

Honeyw. The town, Madam, seldom begins to praise a lady's beauty, till she's beginning to lose it. (Smiling.)

Mrs Croak. But she's resolved never to lose it, it seems. For, as her natural face decays, her skill improves in making the artificial one. Well, nothing diverts me more than one of those fine, old, dressy things, who thinks to conceal her age, by every-where exposing her person; sticking herself up in the front of a side box; trailing through a minuet at Almack's ; and then, in the public gardens, looking for all the world like one of the painted ruins of the place.

Honeyw. Every age has its admirers, ladies. While you, perhaps, are trading among the warmer climates of youth, there ought to be some to carry on a useful commerce in the frozen latitudes beyond fifty.

Miss Rich. But, then, the mortifications they must suffer, before they can be fitted out for traffic. I have seen one of them fret a whole morning at her hair-dresser, when all the faults was her face.

This

Honeyw. And yet, I'll engage, has carried that face at last to a very good market. good-natured town, Madam, has husbands, like spectacles, to fit every age, from fifteen to fourscore.

Mrs Croak. Well, you're a dear goodnatured creature. But you know you're engaged with us this morning upon a strolling party. I want to show Olivia the town, and the things; I believe, I shall have business for you for the whole day.

Honeyw. I am sorry, Madam, I have an appointment with Mr Croaker, which it is impossible to put off.

Mrs Croak. What! with my husband? then I'm resolved to take no refusal. Nay, I protest you must. You know I never laugh so

much as with you.

Honeyw. Why, if I must, I must, I'll swear you have put me into such spirits. Well, do you find jest, and I'll find laugh, I promise you. We'll wait for the chariot in the next room. [Exeunt.

Enter Leontine and Olivia. Leont. There they go, thoughtless and happy. My dearest Olivia, what would I give to see you capable of sharing in their amusements, and as cheerful as they are.

Oliv. How, my Leontine, how can I be cheerful, when I have so many terrors to oppress me? The fear of being detected by this family, and the apprehensions of a censuring world, when I must be detected

confided in honour and took refuge in my father's house; the only one where your's could remain without censure.

Oliv. But conis der, Leontine, your disobedience and my indiscretion; your being sent to France to bring home a sister, and, instead of a sister, bringing home

Leont. One dearer than a thousand sisters. One that I am convinced will be equally dear to the rest of the family, when she comes to be known.

Oliv. And that, I fear, will shortly be. Leont. Impossible, till we ourselves think proper to make the discovery. My sister, you know, has been with her aunt, at Lyons, since she was a child, and you find every creature in the family takes you for her.

Oliv. But may not she write, may not her aunt write?

Leont. Her aunt scarce ever writes, and all my sister's letters are directed to me.

Oliv. But won't your refusing Miss Richland, for whom you know the old gentleman intends you, create a suspicion?

Leont. There, there's my master-stroke. I have resolved not to refuse her; nay, an hour hence I have consented to go with my father to make her an offer of my heart and for

tune.

Oliv. Your heart and fortune!

Leont. Don't be alarmed, my dearest. Can Olivia think so meanly of my honour, or my love, as to suppose I could ever hope for happiness from any but her? No, my Olivia, neither the force, nor, permit me to add, the delicacy of my passion, leave any room to suspect me. I only offer Miss Richland a heart I am convinced she will refuse; as I am confident, that without knowing it, her affections are fixed upon Mr Honeywood.

Oliv. Mr Honeywood! You'll excuse my apprehensions; but when your merits come to be put in the balance

Leont. You view them with too much partiality. However, by making this offer, I show a seeming compliance with my father's command; and perhaps, upon her refusal, I may have his consent to choose for myself.

Oliv. Well, I submit. And yet, my Leon. tine, I own I shall envy her even your pretended addresses. I consider every look, every expression of your esteem, as due only to me. This is folly perhaps; I allow it; but it is natural to suppose, that merit which has made an impression on one's own heart, may be powerful over that of another.

Leont. Don't, my life's treasure, don't let us make imaginary evils, when you know we have so many real ones to encounter. At worst, you know, if Miss Richland should consent, or my father refuse his pardon, it can but end in a trip to Scotland; and

Enter Croaker.

Croak. Where have you been boy? I have been seeking you. My friend Honeywood

here has been saying such comfortable things. Ah! he's an example indeed. Where is he? I left him here.

Leont. Sir, I believe you may see him, and hear him too, in the next room; he's preparing to go out with the ladies.

Croak. Good gracious! can I believe my eyes or my ears! I'm struck dumb with his vivacity, and stunned with the loudness of his laugh. Was there ever such a transformation! (a laugh behind the scenes, Croaker mimics it.) Ha ha ha! there it goes; a plague take their balderdash! yet I could expect nothing less, when my precious wife was of the party. On my conscience, I believe she could spread a horse-laugh through the pews of a tabernacle.

Leont. Since you find so many objections to a wife, Sir, how can you be so earnest in recommending one to me?

Croak. I have told you, and tell you again, boy, that Miss Richland's fortune must not go out of the family; one may find comfort in the money whatever one does in the wife.

Leont. But, Sir, though in obedience to your desire, I am ready to marry her, it may be possible she has no inclination to me.

Croak. I'll tell you once for all how it stands. A good part of Miss Richland's large fortune consists in a claim upon government, which my good friend, Mr Lofty, assures me the treasury will allow. One-half of this she is to forfeit, by her father's will, in case she refuses to marry you. So if she rejects you, we seize half her fortune; if she accepts you, we seize the whole, and a fine girl into the bargain.

Leont. But, Sir, if you will listen to rea

son

Croak. Come then, produce your reasons. I tell you, I'm fixed, determined: so now produce your reasons. When I'm determined, I always listen to reason, because it can then do no harm.

Leont. You have alleged that a mutual choice was the first requisite in matrimonial happiness.

Croak. Well, and you have both of you a mutual choice. She has her choice-to marry you or lose half her fortune and you have your choice-to marry her, or pack out of doors without any fortune at all.

:

Leont. An only son, Sir, might expect more indulgence.

Croak. An only father, Sir, might expect more obedience: besides, has not your sister here, that never disobliged me in her life, as good a right as you? He's a sad dog Livy, my dear, and would take all from you. But be shan't, I tell you he shan't, for you shall have your share.

Oliv. Dear Sir, I wish you'd be convinced, that I can never be happy in any addition to my fortune, which is taken from his.

Croak. Well, well, it's a good child, so say no more; but come with me, and we shall see something that will give us a great deal of

Gar. Why, Madam, as I told you before, instead of going to Lyons to bring home his sister, who has been there with her aunt these ten years, he never went further than Paris : there he saw and fell in love with this young lady, by the bye, of a prodigious family.

Miss Rich. And brought her home to my guardian as his daughter?

Gar. Yes, and his daughter she will be. If he don't consent to their marriage, they talk of trying what a Scotch parson can do.

Miss Rich. Well, I own they have deceived me-And so demurely as Olivia carried it too!-Would you believe it, Garnet, I told her all my secrets; and yet the sly cheat concealed all this from me?

Gar. And upon my word, Madam, I don't much blame her: she was loth to trust one with her secrets, that was so very bad at keeping her own.

Miss Rich. But, to add to their deceit, the young gentleman, it seems, pretends to make me serious proposals. My guardian and he are to be here presently, to open the affair in form. You know I am to lose half my fortune if I refuse him.

Gar. Yet, what can you do? For being, as you are, in love with Mr Honeywood, Mad

am

Miss Rich. How! Idiot, what do you mean. In love with Mr Honeywood! Is this to provoke me?

Gar. That is, Madam, in friendship with him; I meant nothing more than friendship, as I hope to be married; nothing more.

Miss Rich. Well, no more of this as to my guardian and his son, they shall find me prepared to receive them: I'm resolved to accept their proposal with seeming pleasure, to mortify them by compliance, and so throw the refusal at last upon them,

Gar. Delicious! and that will secure your whole fortune to yourself. Well, who could have thought so innocent a face could cover so much 'cuteness.

Miss Rich. Why, girl, I only oppose my prudence to their cunning, and practise a lesson they have taught me against themselves.

Gar. Then you're likely not long to want employment, for here they come, and in close conference.

Enter Croaker, Leontine.

Leon. Excuse me, Sir, if I seem to hesitate upon the point of putting to the lady so important a question.

Croak. Lord! good Sir, moderate your fears; you're so plaguy shy, that one would think you had changed sexes. I tell you we must have the half or the whole. Come, let me see with what spirit you begin: Well, why don't you? Eh! What? Well then-I must, it seems-Miss Richland, my dear, I believe you guess at our business; an affair which my son here comes to open, that nearly concerns your happiness.

Miss Rich. Sir, I should be ungrateful not to be pleased with any thing that comes recommended by you.

Croak. How, boy, could you desire a finer opening? Why don't you begin, I say?

[To Leontine.

Leon. 'Tis true, Madam, my father, Madam has some intentions-hem-of explaining an affair,-which-himself can best explain, Ma

dam.

Croak. Yes, my dear; it comes entirely from my son; it's all a request of his own, Madam. And I will permit him to make the best of it.

Leon. The whole affair is only this, Madam; my father has a proposal to make, which he insists none but himself shall deliver.

Croak. My mind misgives me, the fellow will never be brought on (Aside). In short, Madam, you see before you one that loves you; one whose whole happiness is all in you.

Miss Rich. I never had any doubts of your regard, Sir; and I hope you can have none of my duty.

Croak. That's not the thing, my little sweeting; my love! No, no, another guess lover than I there he stands, Madam, his very looks declare the force of his passionCall up a look, you dog!-(Aside.)—But then, had you seen him, as I have, weeping, speaking soliloquies and blank verse, sometimes melancholy, and sometimes absent

Miss Rich. I fear, Sir, he's absent now; or such a declaration would have come most properly from himself.

Croak. Himself! Madam, he would die before he could make such a confession; and if he had not a channel for his passion through it would ere now have drowned his understanding.

me,

Miss Rich. I must grant, Sir, there are attractions in modest diffidence above the force of words. A silent address is the genuine eloquence of sincerity.

Croak. Madam, he has forgot to speak any

other language; silence is become his mother tongue.

Miss Rich. And it must be confessed, Sir, it speaks very powerfully in his favour. And yet I shall be thought too forward in making such a confession; shan't I, Mr Leontine.

Leont. Confusion! my reserve will undo me. But, if modesty attracts her, impudence may disgust her. I'll try. (Aside.) Don't imagine from my silence, Madam, that I want a due sense of the honour and happiness in. tended me. My father, Madam, tells me your humble servant is not totally indifferent to you he admires you: I adore you; and when we come together, upon my soul I believe we shall be the happiest couple in all St James's.

Miss Rich. If I could flatter myself you thought as you speak, Sir

Leont. Doubt my sincerity, Madam? By your dear self I swear. Ask the brave if they desire glory? ask cowards if they covet safety.

Croak. Well, well, no more questions about it. Leont. Ask the sick if they long for health? ask misers if they love money? ask

Croak. Ask a fool if he can talk nonsense? What's come over the boy? What signifies asking, when there's not a soul to give you an answer? If you would ask to the purpose, ask this lady's consent to make you happy.

Miss Rich. Why indeed, Sir, his uncommon ardour almost compels me-forces me to comply. And yet I'm afraid he'll despise a conquest gained with too much ease; won't you, Mr Leontine ?

Leont. Confusion! (Aside.) Oh, by no means, Madam, by no means. And yet, Madam, you talked of force. There is nothing I would avoid so much as compulsion in a thing of this kind. No. Madam, I will still be generous, and leave you at liberty to refuse. Croak. But I tell you, Sir, the lady is not at liberty. It's a match. You see she says nothing. Silence gives consent..

Leont. But, Sir, she talked of force. Consider, Sir, the cruelty of constraining her inclinations.

Croak. But I say there's no cruelty. Don't you know, blockhead, that girls have always a round about way of saying yes before company? So get you both gone together into the next room, and hang him that interrupts the tender explanation. Get you gone, I say; I'll not hear a word.

Leont. But, Sir, I must beg leave to insist

Croak. Get off, you puppy, or I'll beg leave to insist upon knocking you down. Stupid whelp! But I don't wonder: the boy takes entirely after his mother. [Exeunt Miss Richland and Leontine.

Enter Mrs Croaker.

Mrs Croak. Mr Croaker I bring you some

My daughter Olivia privately contracted to a man of large fortune! This is good news, indeed. My heart never foretold me of this. And yet, how slily the little baggage has carried it since she came home; not a word on't to the old ones for the world. Yet I thought

I saw something she wanted to conceal. Mrs Croak. Well, if they have concealed their amour, they shan't conceal their wedding ; that shall be public, I m resolved.

4

Croak. I tell thee, woman, the wedding is the most foolish part of the ceremony. I can never get this woman to think of the most serious part of the nuptial engagement.

Mrs Croak. What, would you have me think of their funeral? But come, tell me, my dear, don't you owe more to me than you care to confess?-- Would you have ever been known to Mr Lofty, who has undertaken Miss Richland's claim at the Treasury, but for

me? Who was it first made him an acquaintance at Lady Shabbaroon's rout? Who got him to promise us his interest? Is not a back-stairs favourite, one that can do what he pleases with those that do what they please! Is not he an acquaintance that all your groaning and lamentation could never have got us?

Croak. He is a man of importance, I grant you. And yet what amazes me is, that while he is giving away places to all the world, he can't get one for himself.

Mrs Croak. That perhaps may be owing to his nicety. Great men are not easily satisfied.

Enter French Servant.

Serv. An express from Monsieur Lofty.