If I remember, your acquaintance began at the Colonel's villa in the Ifle of Wight, when you were failing, and fell from the vellel.

Hon. Yes, Sir; and while his brother, Lord Jargon, and other foplings of the party, who before had offered up their lives to ferve me, while they flood idly on the deck, and faw me juft expiring-Clairville, then a stranger, leaped from another veffel, and, plunging midft the waves, caught me in his arms, and brought me fafe to land.-Then came the conflict-The Colonel's boat, by adverfe winds, was blown from fhore; and I and my deliverer remained part of that day alone.-I faw, compared, and loved-his heart beat in unifon with mine; and now, Sir, do you pity or condemn me?

Sir Andr. I pity you, pity you fincerely, and curfe the Colonel for placing you under the care of my wife, because I know fhe defigns you for Lord Jargon-But Nominal, whom your uncle intends for your husband, is hourly expected from France.

Hen. Talk not of that, Sir; for I dread the confequences of his arrival.-The night Clairville was difcovered in my apartment, the Colonel told him he would fend for his ward Nominal, to avenge the injured honour of his family! Oh, Sir, if a duel fhould enfue!-Yet, if Clairville receives my letter, that and other ills may be prevented (afide)-But fomebody is coming, Sir allow me to retire.

Sir Andr. Do, and depend on my protection, Honoria-I am always a friend to the unhappy. -Good morning. [Exit Ionoria.] So, there goes another long face!-Here's my ward, the

cele

celebrated Mifs Strangeways-She's an authorefs, an actress, a mufician, a painter, and, in fhort, every thing. I know he's in love with me, and I'll have the fatisfaction of teafing her foul out.

Enter Mifs STRANGEWAYS (with a Paper in her Hand).

Sophia. Pofitively, I will be revenged.-The Colonel does nothing but make love to me.Heigho! I'm fo fatigued, Guardy-and it's in vain going to bed, I've fo many places to call at.

Sir Andr. What! all over the town, as ufual?

Sophia. Yes; first I'm going to Lady Buftle's, to finish my picture of her little French lapdog-then to call at the bookfeller's, and correct the prefs-then to leave this farewell ode to my dear Jugglamintha, at the newspaper office. (Reading.)

"Oh! thou, whofe amaranthine feelings know "The iron agonies of copper woe."

Sir Andr. Iron agonies of copper woe! That's a fine line, and charmingly diftreffing.

Sophia. Yes; and then I'm going to rehearse a new tragedy at the private Theatre; and, if you'll believe me, my dying fcene is yet unfettled.

Sir Andr. That's a great pity, Sophia-for I think the dying fcene the best part of the play.

Sophia. Yes; but one infifts on my dying on one fide of the stage, another, on the other.Now, what am I to do?

Sir Andr. Why, what many great politicians have done before you-die between both fides. -But, my angel, when am I to be honoured with an affignation-a tête-à-tête, heh?

Sophia. Fie, Guardy!-You know I told you I loved you better than the Colonel, andthat I'd make fools of you both before I'd done with you. (Afide.)

O'WHACK (without).

O'Whack. (without.) Arrah! ftand by now! I am the valet de chambre to Mr. Nominal.

Sir Andr. As I live, Nominal is arrived! This is his Irish fervant, who, to his brogue, has joined a fmattering of French-Do ftay and

hear him.

Sophia. What! mix Irish with French!

Sir Andr. So it feems; and he fo confounds the two languages, he is fcarcely intelligibleBut here he comes.

Enter O'WHACK, followed by JAMES.

O'Whack. Mon Dieu! you dirty blackguard! don't you know me by my politeffe? Jontleman and lady, your moft obedient-By the red nofe of Saint Patrick I am toute nouveau; and, d'ye fee, I would be after fpaking to my mafter's guardian, Colonel Hubbub.

Sir Andr. How is your mafter? Is he as fingular as his guardian defcribes him?

Sophia. Singular! What, is he like the Colonel, Sir Andrew ?

Sir Andr. The image of him-While at college his love of notoriety firft difplayed itself;

but by living entirely with English abroad, he is become as eccentric and abfurd as the Colonel withes him.

O'Whack. By the powers! you've hit it-Ma foi! he is toujours wanting to get into notice; and between our three felves, he keeps me as his valet, frizeur, and all that, only becafe I perplex, and make a noise, and am quite au fait at botheration wherever I go.

Sophia. Pray, what brings Mr. Nominal fo fuddenly from France? Isn't it fomething about an affair of honour ?

O'Whack. Oui; you may fay that-He is come to challenge one Clairville for getting into the window of Mademoiselle Honoria: and to be fure he won't give the young feducer a little fnug dejeuné of cold lead.

Sophia. 'Tis fo then-Poor Clairville!

Sir Andr. Tell us now, had you a pleasant journey?

O'Whack. Pleasant! Oh! by the eternal powers, tout au contraire, my dear: we were stopped, and robbed, and murdered; that is, we should have been, but for a fine young haroe, who came and rescued us! Marbleu! he made them skip like frogs.

Sir Andr. A robbery and a duel! This jour ney may produce much pleafing distress-Pray, who was this young haroe?

O'Wback. Je ne fçai pas, honey-But you may talk of your Cæfars, Cleopatras, and PaddyWhacks-he beats all your champions of pofterity.-Oh! had you feen, when my master and I were fprawling, how he laid about him with his bit of timber-Depend on't, as our fille de chamC

bre

bre faid, the fhillaly is the true je ne fçai quoi, after all.

Sophia. A very entertaining fellow, Sir Andrew. What's your name, friend?

O'Whack. Blunder O'Whack, Jontleman! The Blunders are the oldest family in IrelandWe were planted there like fo many potatys, by a great General, who was afterwards Lord Lieutenant to King-What d'ye call the old monarque?-Oh! King Lear-Ay, that's itKing Lear.

Sophia. King Lear!

O'Wback. C'est vrai, Mifs-and after that, the family got a curft tumble about the reign of Jack Cade-Pardonnez moi, tho'-I forget my bufinefs-I must be after informing the Colonel of his ward's arrival.

Sir Andr. Spare yourself the trouble, Mr. O'Whack-Colonel Hubbub is not here-but I'll take care to inform him.

O'Whack. Je vous remercie, my dear-But do you mind now-depêchez-vous, and tell him, my master's fo particular in his person and manners, that you may hear of him any whereMonfieur, good luck to you !-My Lady, j'ai l'honneur d'être très-humble ferviteur !-Oh! by my foul! the true comme il faut's better than whiskey.

[Exit.

Sophia. If the fervant is a picture of the master, Nominal will have too much good humour to quarrel with Clairville.-'Faith! I almost love him by defcription-But I must leave youGuardy, adicu!

Sir Andr. Nay, don't hurry, my angel-it's too foon for the dying scene.

2

Sophia.