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Lov. By that right which makes me the happiest of men; and by a title which I would not forego, for any the best of kings could give.

Betty. I could cry my eyes out to hear his magnimity.

Lord Ogl. I am annihilated!

Ster. I have been choaked with rage and wonder; but now I can speak.-Zounds! what have you to say to me?-Lovewell, you are a villain.-You have broke your word with me.

Fanny. Indeed, sir, he has not-you forbad him to think of me, when it was out of his power to obey you; we have been married these four months.

Ster. And he shan't stay in my house four hours. What baseness and treachery! As for you, you shall repent this step as long as you live, madam.

Fanny. Indeed, Sir, it is impossible to conceive the tortures I have already endured in consequence of my disobedience. My heart has continually upbraided me for it; and though I was too weak to struggle with affection, I feel that I must be miserable for ever without your forgiveness.

Ster. Lovewell, you shall leave my house directly,and you shall follow him, madam. [TO FANNY.

Lord Ogl. And if they do, I will receive them into mine. Lookye, Mr. Sterling, there has been some inistakes, which we had all better forget for our own sakes; and the best way to forget them is to forgive the cause of them; which I do from my soul.-Poor girl! 1 swore to support her affection with my life and fortune; 'tis a debt of honour, and must be paid-you swore as much too, Mr. Sterling; but your laws in the city will excuse you, I suppose; for you never strike a balance without errors excepted.

Ster. I am a father, my lord; but for the sake of all other fathers, I think I ought not to forgive her, for fear of encouraging other silly girls like herself to throw themselves away without the consent of their parents.

Lov. I hope there will be no danger of that, sir. Young ladies, with minds like my Fanny's, would startle at the very shadow of vice; and when they know to what uneasiness only an indiscretion has exposed her, her example, instead of encouraging, will rather serve to deter them.

Mrs. Heidel. Indiscretion, quoth a! a mighty pretty delicat word to express obedience !

Lord Ogl. For my part, I indulge my own passions too much to tyrannize over those of other people. Poor souls, I pity them. And you must forgive them too. Come, come, melt a little of your flint, Mr. Sterling!

Ster. Why, why, as to that, my lord-to be sure, he is a relation of yours, my lord-what say you, sister Heidelberg?

Mrs. Heidel. The girl's ruined, and I forgive her. Ster. Well-so do I then--Nay, no thanks-[to Lov. and FANNY, who seem preparing to speak] there's an end of the matter.

Lord Ogl. But, Lovewell, what makes you dumb all this while?

Lov. Your kindness, my lord.-I can scarce believe my own senses-they are all in a tumult of fear, joy, love, expectation, and gratitude; I ever was, and am now more bound in duty to your lordship. For you, Mr. Sterling, if every moment of my life, spent gratefully in your service, will in some measure compensate the want of fortune, you perhaps will not repent your goodness to me. And you, ladies, I flatter myself, will not for the future suspect me of artifice and intrigue -As for -I shall be happy to oblige and serve you.you, Sir John-

Sir John. No apologies to me, Lovewell, I do not deserve any. All I have to offer in excuse for what has happened, is my total ignorance of your situation. Had you dealt a little more openly with me, you would have saved me, and yourself, and that lady, (who I hope will pardon my behaviour) a great deal of uneasiness. Give me leave, however, to assure you, that light and capricious as I may have appeared, now my infatuation is over, I have sensibility enough to be ashamed of the part I have acted, and honour enough to rejoice at your. happiness.

Lov. And now, my dearest Fanny, though we are seemingly the happiest of beings, yet all our joys will be dampt, if his lordship's generosity, and Mr. Sterling's forgiveness, should not be succeeded by the indulgence, approbation, and consent of these our best benefactors. [To the Audience.

THE END.

POSITION OF THE CHARACTERS AT THE

FALL OF THE CURTAIN.

[graphic][subsumed][subsumed][subsumed][subsumed]

PROLOGUE,

WRITTEN BY MR. GARRICK.

Poets and painters, who from nature draw
Their best and richest stores, have made this law:
That each should neighbourly assist his brother,
And steal with decency from one another.

To-night, your matchless Hogarth gives the thought,
Which from his canvass to the stage is brought.
And who so fit to warm the poet's mind,
As he who pictur'd morals and mankind?
But not the same their characters and scenes;
Both labour for one end, by different means;
Each, as it suits him, takes a separate road,
Their one great object, Marriage-a-la-mode!
Where titles deign with cits to have and hold,
And change rich blood for more substantial gold!
And honour'd trade from interest turns aside,
To hazard happiness for titled bride.

The painter dead, yet still he charms the eye;
While England lives, his fame can never die:
But he, who struts his hour upon the stage,
Can scarce extend his fame for half an age;
Nor pen nor pencil can the actor save,
The art, and artist, share one common grave.
O let me drop one tributary tear,

On poor Jack Falstaff's grave, and Juliet's bier!
You to their worth must testimony give;

'Tis in your hearts alone their fame can live.
Still as the scenes of life will shift away,

The strong impressions of their art decay.
Your children cannot feel what you have known;
They'll boast of Quins and Cibbers of their own:
The greatest glory of our happy few,
Is to be felt, and be approv'd by you.

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SCENE, an Assembly.-Several Persons at Cards, at different Tables; among the rest COL. TRILL, LORD MINUM, Mrs. Quaver, Sir Patrick Ma

HONY.

At the Quadrille Table.

Col. T. Ladies, with leave—

2d Lady. Pass!

3d Lady. Pass!

Mrs. Q. You must do more.

Col. T.

Indeed I can't.

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Col. T. To-night at Drury-lane is play'd
A comedy, and tout nouvelle-a spade!
Is not Miss Crotchet at the play?

Mrs. Qu. My niece

Has made a party, sir, to damn the piece.

At the Whist Table.

Ld. Min. I hate a play-house-Trump!-It makes me

sick.

1st Lady. We're two by honours, ma'am. Ld. Min. And we th' odd trick.

Pray, do you know the author, Colonel Trill? Col. T. I know no poets, heaven be prais'd-Spadille! 1st Lady. I'll tell you who, my lord! [Whispers LD. M. Ld. M. What, he again.

T.

"And dwell such daring souls in little men!" Be whose it will, they down our throats will

cram it!

O, no-I have a club--the best-We'll damn it.

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