Sir R.

Pshaw! there's no distress in that.

Dob. Yes there is, to a man who must go twenty miles every Sunday to preach three sermons, for thirty pounds a year.

Sir R. Why won't Punmock, the vicar, give him another nag?

Dob. Because 't is cheaper to get another curate ready mounted.

Sir R.

What's the name of the black pad I purchased last Tuesday at Tunbridge?

Sir R. Send Beelzebub to the curate, and tell him to work him as long as he lives.

Fred. And if you have a tumble-down nag, send him to the vicar, to give him a chance of breaking his neck.

Sir R. What else?

Dob. Somewhat out of the common. There's one Lieutenant Worthington, a disabled officer and a widower, come to lodge at Farmer Harrowby's, in the village. He's plaguy poor indeed, it seems, but more proud than poor, and more honest than proud.

Fred. That sounds like a noble character.

Sir R. And so he sends to me for assistance?

Dob. He'd see you hanged first! Harrowby says, he'd sooner die than ask any man for a shilling. There's his daughter, and his dead wife's aunt, and an old corporal that has served in the wars with him; he keeps them all upon his half-pay.

Sir R. Starves them all, I am afraid, Humphrey.
Fred. (crossing). Uncle, good morning.

Sir R. Where are you running now?
Fred. To talk to Lieutenant Worthington.

Sir R. And what may you be going to say to him?

Fred. I can't tell till I encounter him; and then; uncle, when I have an old gentleman by the hand, who is disabled in his country's service, and struggling to support his motherless child, a poor relation, and a faithful servant, in honorable indigence, impulse will supply me with words to express my sentiments. (Hurrying off.)

Sir R. Stop, you rogue !—I must be before you in this business.

Fred. That depends upon who can run fastest. So start fair, uncle; and here goes! (Exit hastily.)

Sir R. Stop! why, Frederick!—A jackanapes! to take my department out of my hands! I'll disinherit the dog for his assurance !

Dob. No you won't.

Sir R. Won't I? Hang me, if I,—but we
Come along, Humphrey !

point as we go.

'11 argue that

(Exeunt.)

[George Colman, Jr.

THE EMBRYO LAWYER.

OLD FICKLE

TRISTRAM FICKLE.

Old F. What reputation, what honor, what profit can accrue to you from such conduct as yours? One moment you tell me you are going to become the greatest musician in the world, and straight you fill my house with fiddlers.

Tri. I am clear out of that scrape now, sir.

Old F. Then, from a fiddler you are metamorphosed into a philosopher; and for the noise of drums, trumpets, and hautboys, you substitute a vile jargon, more unintelligible than was ever heard at the tower of Babel.

Tri. You are right, sir. I have found out that philosophy is folly; so I have cut the philosophers of all sects, from Plato and Aristotle down to the puzzlers of modern date.

Old F. How much had I to pay the cooper, the other day, for barreling you up in a large tub, when you resolved to live like Diogenes?

Tri. You should not have paid him any thing, sir, for the tub would not hold. You see the contents are run out.

Old F. No jesting, sir; this is no laughing matter. Your follies have tired me out. I verily believe you have taken the whole round of arts and sciences in a month, and have been of fifty different minds in half an hour.

Tri. And, by that, shown the versatility of my genius.

Old F. Don't tell me of versatility, sir. Let me see a little steadiness. You have never yet been constant to any thing but extravagance.

Tri. Yes, sir, one thing more.

Old F. What is that, sir.

However my

head may have

Tri. Affection for you. wandered, my heart has always been constantly attached to the kindest of parents; and, from this moment, I am resolved to lay my follies aside, and pursue that line of conduct which will be most pleasing to the best of fathers and of friends.

Old F. Well said, my boy,-well said! You make me happy indeed. (Patting him on the shoulder.) Now, then, my dear Tristram, let me know what you really mean to do. Tri. To study the law,

Old F. The law !

Tri. I am most resolutely bent on following that profession. Old F. No!

Tri. Absolutely and irrevocably fixed.

Old F. Better and better. I am overjoyed. Why, 'tis the very thing I wished. Now I am happy! (Tristram makes gestures as if speaking.) See how his mind is engaged! Tri. Gentlemen of the jury,

Old F. Why Tristram,

Tri. This is a cause,

Old F. O, my dear boy! I forgive you all your tricks. I see something about you, now, that I can depend on.

(Tristram continues making gestures.)

Tri. I am for the plaintiff in this cause,

Old F. Bravo! bravo!-excellent boy! I'll go and order your books directly.

Tri. I ordered twelve square feet of books when I first thought of embracing the arduous profession of the law.

Old F. What, do you mean to read by the foot?

Tri. By the foot, sir; that is the only way to become a solid lawyer.

Old F.

Twelve square feet of learning! Well,

Tri. I have likewise sent for a barber,

Old F. A barber! What, is he to teach you to shave close?

Tri. He is to shave one half of my head, sir.

Old F. You will excuse me if I cannot perfectly understand what that has to do with the study of the law.

Tri. Did you never hear of Demosthenes, sir, the Athenian orator? He had half his head shaved, and locked himself up in a coal-cellar.

Old F. Ah! he was perfectly right to lock himself up after having undergone such an operation as that. He certainly would have made rather an odd figure abroad.

Tri. I think I see him now, awaking the dormant patriotism of his countrymen,-lightning in his eye, and thunder in his voice; he pours forth a torrent of eloquence, resistless in its force; the throne of Philip trembles while he speaks; he

denounces, and indignation fills the bosom of his hearers; he exposes the impending danger, and every one sees impending ruin; he threatens the tyrant,—they grasp their swords; he calls for vengeance,—their thirsty weapons glitter in the air, and thousands reverberate the cry. One soul animates a nation, and that soul is the soul of the orator.

Old F. O! what a figure he 'll make in the King's Bench? But, come, I will tell you now what my plan is, and then you will see how happily this determination of yours will further it. You have (Tristram makes extravagant gestures, as if speaking) often heard me speak of my friend Briefwit, the barrister,

Tri. Who is against me in this cause?-
Old F. He is a most learned lawyer,—
Tri. But as I have justice on my side,—

Old F. Zounds; he doesn't hear a word I say! Why, Tristram !

Tri.

studies.

.

I beg your pardon, sir; I was prosecuting my

Old F. Now, attend,—

Tri. As my learned friend observes,-Go on, sir, I am all

attention.

Old F. Well, my friend the counselor,

Tri.

Say learned friend, if you please, sir. We gentlemen

of the law always,

Old F. Well, well,-my learned friend,

Tri. A black patch!

Old F. Will you listen, and be silent?

Tri. I am as mute as a judge.

Old F. My friend, I say, has a ward, who is very handsome, and who has a very handsome fortune. She would make you a charming wife.