might betray me, and prevent my efcape-Should you tell the Marquis, in the firft tranfports of his griefs, he'd not be enough mafter of himself, to conceal the fecret-But now confult your heart: if you repent, you have made no promise: I restore it to you-speak-pronounce.

Aman. I have fpoken-have pronounced-have promifed-and will keep my vow.

The Child of Nature, A. 4. Sc. I.

WORRY AND JULIANA.

Jul. May I afk-I hope Sir Hervey's well? Worry. No, he's very ill, I'm very much obliged to you.

Jul. Ill!-heavens! what's his complaint?

Worry. An ungrateful daughter!Your pardon, ma'am perhaps I'm fomewhat blunt-but I lived with Sir Hervey these twenty years: if he has faults to others, he has none to me; and though the world deferts him, it is my duty to land or fall with him.

Jul. Well, I applaud your zeal; but why, why charge me with ingratitude?

Worry. Becaufe you are his enemy; because you take the part of her who bafely wrong'd him.

Jul. Hold, cenfure me as much as you please; but breathe not a syllable against my mother. Worry. There! you avow it; you justify

Jul. No-but I feel for her; I lament her fate:

that confolation Sir Hervey cannot deny me.And let him know me before he condemns me; for w can that child be called ungrateful who never had an opportunity of evincing either her duty or af fection?

Worry. How!

Jul. I never wrong'd him and even in my infancy he shut his doors against me--I am his child; and by denying his protection, he has expofed me to the felf-fame fnares my mother fell a martyr to. -I've not disgraced-I've ever lov'd him: and let him give me but the trial-oh! let him take me to his heart; and if the careffes of an affectionate daughter do not atone for the errors of a mifguided mother, then let him caft me from him; but till then let him not accufe me of ingratitude.

Worry. What! and you'd-how handsome fhe looks!you'd be loving and dutiful?

Jul. Oh yes-I'd watch, I'd nurse him-weep as he wept, and blefs each fmile that cheered him and when time had mellowed his grief into a fweet remembrance of my mother's lofs, then I'd retrieve her honour in the grave: in my unvaried truth, all, all fhould be forgotten. I would revive the friendship that he bore her, and she should live again in Juliana.

Management, A. 2. Sc. 2.

SIR WILLIAM AND MISS DORRILLON.

Sir Wil. To put you out of apprehenfion at once -your father is not coming home-nor will he ever return to his own country.

Mifs Dor. [Starting] You seem to speak from certain knowledge-Oh! heavens! is he not living?

Sir Wil. Yes, living-but under fevere afflictionfortune has changed, and all his hopes are blasted.

Mifs Dor. Fortune changed!"-In poverty? -my father in poverty?-[Weeping.]-Oh, Sir, excufe, what may perhaps appear an ill compliment to your bounty; but to me, the greatest reverence I can' pay to it. You are going to that part of the world where he is; take this precious gift back, fearch out my father, and let him be the object of your beneficence.-[Forces it into his hand.]—I shall be happy in this prifon, indeed I fhall, fo I can but give a momentary relief to my dear, dear father.-[Sir William takes out his bandkerchief.]-You weep!-This prefent, perhaps would be but poor alleviation of his fufferings-perhaps he is in ficknefs; or a prifoner! Oh! if he be, release me inftantly, and take me with you to the place of his confinement.

Sir Wil. What! quit the joys of London?

Mifs Dor. On fuch an errand I would quit them all without a figh-and here I make a folemn promife to you-[kneeling.]

Sir Wil. Hold, you may wish to break it.

Mifs Dor. Never-exact what vow you will on this

occafion, I will make, and keep it[Enter Mr. Norberry-fhe rifes]-Oh! Mr. Norberry, he has been telling me fuch things of my father

Mr. Dor. Has he? Then kneel again-call him by that name, and implore him not to difown you for his child..

Mifs Dor. Good heaven!-I dare not-I dare not do as you require. [She faints on Norberry.]

Sir Wil. [Going to her.] My daughter! my child! Wives as they Were and Maids as they Are, A. 5. Sc. 2.

LORD ARTHUR. (Solus)

Prevent a dutiful fon from feeing his honour'd parent! I'll convince him I'm a good boy-he shall fee me, and I will be his comfort, and, though he commands me to be gone, I'll stay with him to prove my obedience. What a pity that the omiffion of faying a few words, before I was born, fhould prevent me from being lawful heir to this castle! perhaps the pride of my father! the darling of the tenants! favourite of the neighbours, and friend to the poor! now, a wretched outcast, shunned like a favage, foe to mankind, and man at enmity with me! no establishment! profeffion! friend, or character. Oh! my father, where are you? (looks round with grief) do not shun, I'll kneel, till youfpurn me from you-that face! it is my mother. I heard of his Lordship's gallery of beauties- quite an exhibition for every ftarer: but my dear mother shall

no more be dishonoured, by making one in this unhappy collection-no, by heavens! her misfortunes fhall be no longer the topic, for the fneering comments of vulgarity and ill nature. (lifts the picture down) Timolin! why don't you come up? Timb lin!

Enter LORD TORRENDEL.

Lord Tor. What uproar is this in my house? Have you any bufinefs with me, Sir? who are you?

Lord Arthur. (falls on his knee, and points to the picture} Sir, this was my mother.

Lord Tor. (looking at them both, puts his handkerchief to his eyes) My fon, the child of Emily!

[Exit in great emotion. Lord Arthur. This our first interview fince my infancy! my father not speak to me! no gentle word, no complacent fmile. Now I am poor! where to turn? every face meets me with a frown, a sea of horrors rush on me! the ftorm's up, and let it blow me as it will!

Enter TIMOLIN.

Timolin. Well, and you faw your papa? (joyful) Arthur. My heart was good, but now I'm all vexation, grief, and terror. A look now and then at this, might calm my mind. Timolin, take that picture to my lodgings.

Timolin. What?

Arthur. Take that picture to my lodgings. (burfs into tears)

Life's Vagaries, A. 2. Sc. 3.