Wm. T. 1. [Aside to him.] Tis only to frighten him into confession, sir; the pistols shall only be loaded with powder.

Dr. S. Well, if you are so bent on it, though I think it is doing him too much honor to shoot him through the head

Wm. T. 2. There's a pretty father-in-law! But perhaps I may shoot him through the head, and I don't care if I domy blood's up-such treatment would move a stock-fish.

Wm. T. 1. Now, sir, follow me out into the garden-I have pistols here.

Dr. S. I will go with you to measure the ground.
Wm. T. 2. I fear I shall do that.

SCENE IV.-A Garden.

[Exeunt.

Enter DOCTOR SOOTHEM, and the two THOMPSONS following him, having resumed their coats and hats-Thompson the First with a pistol in each hand.

Wm. T. 1. [Offering pistols.] Now, sir, take your choice of these pistols.

Wm. T. 2. [Looking at them.] I knew they were mine, and prettily they are loaded, too; for how could I foresee, when I put three balls into each, that before night, they would find a lodging in my head! Oh, yes, they are mine!

Wm. T. 1. Then, sir, I will speedily restore the contents of one of them.

Wm. T. 2. Thank you, sir; but I don't like your mode of restoring property.

Wm. T. 1. This is trifling: I did not come here to dispute.

Wm. T. 2. That is very well of you! We come here to blow each other's brains out, and he says he does not come here to dispute !

Dr. S. [To Wm. T. 1.] Now Mr. Thompson, what dis tance will you stand? The nearer the better to make sure of him.

Wm. T. 2. What an unnatural old pike he is!

Wm. T. 1. We will stand back to back, and then walk

five paces from each other, turn, and fire!

Wm. T. 2. That will be the last dos-a-dos I shall ever ex ecute, for it will end in cavalier seul, I know!

Wm. T. 1. Come, sir, are you ready?

Wm. T. 2. Yes; but 'tis rather hard to fight for a name

Wm. T. 1. Not at all; what have all heroes ever fought for but a name?

Wm. T. 2. Have you no remorse?

Wm. T. 1. No!

[They advance to the centre of the stage, stand back to back, and walk from each other, rapidly off the stage. Wm. T. 1. turns and fires-Wm. T. 2., forgetting to turn, places the pistol on his hip, and fires off the stage.

Wm. T. 2. [Staggering and falling.] I'm a dead man! Bury me decently !-Send to my poor father, and tell him he has lost his only son by an unnatural death!

Wm. T. 1. Run for assistance, sir; he will bleed to death! [Aside.] Fetch your daughter, sir; I will bring him to confession. [Exit Dr. Soothem. Wm. T. 2. Ah, I dare say you are sorry now! Oh! this serves me right, for leaving poor Miss Dormer, to come down to that old savage, my intended father-in-law, where I have first lost my hair, and then my life!

Wm. T. 1. If you will promise to perform your engage ments with that Miss Dormer you are speaking of, and resign all pretensions to Miss Soothem, it is in my power to restore you to perfect health.

Wm. T. 2. That I will, with all my heart! But are you sure you can cure me?

Wm. T. 1. Certain: I will keep my promise, if you perform yours.

Wm. T. 2. But you'll own that I am the real William Thompson?

Wm. T. 1. I know you are. Your property, and the money you have paid, shall be returned. [Raising him up, and supporting him.] But here comes Doctor Soothem with his daughter.

Enter DOCTOR SOOTHEM and JULIA.

Dr. S. Well, has the rascal made a confession yet?

Wm. T. 1. He has none to make, sir: 'tis for me to con fess that I am not the person you expected; but that gentle man is the real William Thompson.

Dr. S. What do I hear? Then you have been playing upon me all this time with your tricks and inventions, causing me to treat my dear son-in-law in so unhandsome a manner

Wm. T. 2. Unhandsome indeed! I shan't be fit to be Feen for an age! And I'll be none of your son-in-law, I promise you. I give up your daughter to this gentleman, or any other. Dr. S. You won't marry my daughter! Here's an impudent fellow! You give her up to this gentleman! [To Wm. T. 1.] Pray, sir, if I may be so bold, who are you? and what is your name?

Wm. T. 1. William Thompson, sir.

Dr. S. William Thompson still! I shall go mad!

Wm. T. 1. Yes, sir; and as your intended son-in-law is already contracted to another lady, I trust, after proper inquiry, you will not refuse to bestow that title upon me.

Dr. S. You are a very smooth-spoken gentleman, upon my word! [To his daughter.] What, and so you have helped to hoax your father!-for I warrant you were in the secret.

Jul. A little before you were, papa, 'tis true; but I knew nothing of his coming here, as I had not seen the gentleman since the masquerade.

Dr. S. The masquerade! Oh, oh! then I now understand the whole plot. [To Wm. T. 2.] And how dare you, sir, come here to marry my daughter, when you were already engaged to another?

Wm. T. 2. So, I am always to catch it! I think you might speak more civilly to a dying man. [They all laugh.] Do you laugh, you barbarous creatures?

Wm. T. 1. Yes, sir, and so will you, when you find your wound is in your head only; for you have received none elsewhere.

Wm. T. 2. How! not wounded?

Wm. T. 1. No more than I am.

Wm. T. 2. Well, now, I could have pawned my life that I felt three balls enter my body!

Dr. S. Come, sir, thank heaven they were only imaginary. [To Wm. T. 1.] And you, my waggish sir, if you can prove your assertions to my satisfaction, I shall not refuse to bestow my daughter on you; and she, I dare say, will not object to the decision of her father-eh, Julia! [Puts her over to him.

Wm. T. 1. Then, sir, Fortune, blindfold herself, has conducted me, while hoodwinked by sleep, to a happiness my own waking efforts could not achieve. [To the public.] And if, during my sleep, I have had a flattering dream of your favour, disperse it not 'tis dangerous to awake a sleep-walker.

SCENE I.-An Apartment in Mr. Nicodemus's House.
Enter SERVANT and NICODEMUS.

Nic. My cousin's servant, Paul, inquiring for me! What can he possibly want with me? Let him come in. [Exit servant.] It must certainly be some business of life and death, to make my gay thoughtless cousin send to me; for, though every one allows we are as like as two peas in person, no one has ever discovered the slightest similarity in our minds: he has none of my solidity, none of my depth and gravity;-he's all volatility, wild, uncertain,-Hey, oh! here Paul comes. Well, Paul, what brings you here?

Enter PAUL.

Paul. [Crying.] Oh, sir, such a relation! your poor

cousin

Nic. Poor cousin? Why he hasn't, surely, gambled away all his estates on a cast of the die ?

Paul. Worse than that. Ah, sir, when I look at you, it renews all my grief; poor gentleman, I fancy I see him stilloh, oh! [Crying. Nic. What mean you? Explain, good Paul; what horri ble event are you going to relate?

Paul. My poor master, sir-unfortunate gentleman, he was just going to sow all his wild oats in a marriage with the young and beautiful Miss Aldwinkle, daughter of the rich Squire Aldwinkle, of Aldwinkle Hall-oh! oh! oh!

Nic. Well!-what was there so very shocking in that?
Paul. You shall hear, sir: they had never seen one an

other; but my master had sent his portrait, which was approved of both by the young lady and her father.

Nic. No doubt, if he remained as like me as he used to be.

Paul. Very true, sir: it was settled that my poor master was to go to Aldwinkle Hall this very evening, that the ceremony might take place out of hand.

Nic. Well, and why didn't he go?

Paul. He did go, sir: but going and coming are two dif ferent things; and it will be long enough before they find him come to Aldwinkle Hall-oh! oh!

Nic. Why?

Paul. A slight impediment, sir.-We set out, the first thing this morning, on our way there; but had scarcely performed a third part of our journey, when my poor master fell down in an apopletic fit!-oh! oh! oh!

Nic. Unhappy Gaspar! but what could he expect, living as he did?

Paul. He expected to be married, sir, and repent; but the Fates ordered it otherwise. Atropos came with her confounded shears, and cut his vital thread, as close as any tailor in the kingdom could have done. Just before he gave his last kick, he called me to him, and squeezing my hand, exclaimed, “Paul, my dear Paul, as soon as it's all over, send my body to the half-way-house, where dinner will be waiting for me, then hasten to my cousin Abraham (that's you, sir), bid him set off immediately to Aldwinkle Hall, break out the melancholy news to the Old Squire and my dear Georgiana; return, bury me decently, write an epitaph to my memory, take all I'm worth for his pains, and I shall rest in peace!-oh! oh!

Nic. Poor fellow! Did he die rich?

Paul. Pretty well for that, sir.

Nic. Then, his wishes shall be complied with. I'll lock up my grand Treatise on Vampires, hasten to Aldwinkle Hall this very moment, and return here the first thing to-morrow morning, to make preparations for the funeral. Unhappy Gaspar ! he was the last of the Nicodemus family, except myself. What a pity he wasn't as like me in other things as he was in person. But drink! drink! was the ruin of him. I'll go directly, and break the melancholy news to Miss and the Old Gentleman while you, Paul, you—

Paul. I'll go to the half-way-house, and watch over my poor master's remains. Poor gentleman! drink was, as you