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tell him to banish from his mind all memory of her who died regretting and adoring him! Farewell 1 ■ ■ {weeping.) [Exit at door in back scene*

Enter Dr. Infallible.

Sbenkin. (IVeeping.) Good b'w'ye !—— How you to

do, Doctor? I do want you to do something for me.

.1 do want you not to marry Miss Georgiana, and (he,

too, do want you not to marry her; because, look

you, she do love an Officer and a Gentleman.

Doctor. Very likely; but she must love a Doctor and a Gentleman—and so I'll inform her.

Sbenkin. Stop yon—She is with Mr. Post Obit.

Doctor. With him! With that coward! What! •

Does (he hope he'll be her champion? Ha! ha! See how I'll cool his courage. Come forth, my little Legacy Hunter—deliver up my prize this moment, or by the laws of honour

Sbenkin. Look 1 do think it is the duty of your

profession to take away pain, not to give it; and no medicine can do so much good as relieving a helpless woman. Therefore I'll be your Doctor. Take you the physic that is good for you, or by the beard of St. Taffy I must force it down your throat.

Bo51 or. Stand off, Sir! I fee you are set on to harrass and insult me; and, therefore, let me seize my victim, and chastise this dastardly——

\_As be is trying to jhake off Shenkin, two pistols are Jirad off in the adjoining room.Tben,

Enter Post Obit, with Georgiana under bis arm, from door in flat.

Post Obit. "See the conquering hero comes !—

(going.) Doctor. 'Sdeath, Sir, where are you going? Dare you at such a moment remove her from Sir Herbert's power?


Post Obit (snapping bis finger.) That for Sir Her. best and his shabby legacies !—That for you and your paltry Radix Rheno! And if either of you want satisfaction—there's my card—Hyde Park—eight paces— and talk of five pounds, curse me if I wou'dn't give five hundred for an affront! Open the door, Taffy.— (to Sbenkin, wbo obeys.) You see, brother Alexander, honour is the true love-powder, and we heroes are elixir vitse to the ladies, "None but the brave deserve the fair."

[Exit, banding out Georgiana, Shenk'in going b*foret ana Dr. Infallible,



SCENE I.—An Apartment at Pinchwell's—-small—' poorly furnished, Sec.

Dame Shenkin discovered, sitting in an arm-chair, weeping.—Pinchwell rising from another to go.—Shenkin stopping hint.

Shenkin. S^QME, you—do not leave us till you be \^j more tender-hearted, Mr. Pinch wellWait you now but a day.

Phtchwell. 1 fay, my rent that's all—pay me my


Shenkin. Nay, look you, I have just come away from •my place, and how can I pay you for my poor mother's lodgings here, till Sir Herbert do pay me my wages ?— He do put me off," and bid me call again when he be at home—and do you—do you the fame, will you? Call you again when I be at home.

Pinchwell. No trifling—but in an hour's time pay me ■down the sum of eleven pounds, or her next lodging is a prison. ,

Shenkin. Ptefs my foul—you cannot—

Pinchwell. Yes—that is my final determination.—— And now I'll go down to my lodger on the first floor.-—

Now to the shuffling Mr. Thomas Tick. Plague on

ye—I don't know which is the worst of ye; for, what with his duns, bailiffs, notaries, and attorneys, I and the knocker are so continually going, that, curse me, if ■we ar'n't both become thin in the service. And, then, there's no moving the rascal—for, amidst all his diffi

•coktes, he contrives co pay his rent and here he'll

• . ia remain remain a fixture for life. But, your case is different; so remember, my money, or a prison. [Exit.

Sbenkin. To prison! Send my poor aged, widowed

parent to Well, well—do you, Mr. Landlord, send

her to prison—send her to be dead, and buried :—but, by Saint David, there is a place where I will fend you to be made as pretty toasted chis of—(Advances to Dame Shenkin, and takes her hand.) Mother, come you— don't you sit sobbing, and—Nay, nay, is this like an antient Briton, now?

Dame. No,—(rising) And since you've laboured to support me, I will endeavour. I can work still.

Sbenkin. And so can I—and I will get a new place, mother.—But the eleven pounds I—to raise them in an

hour, without friends, without Tear! Tear! what

will become of us? (Noise at the door.) Hey! Who is coming? Pless my soul! I do fear it is a bailiff already. . Ils, it is certainly a bailiff.

Enter Tom Tick hastily; shutting the door after him.

Tick. So, I'm safe—I've outrun them. (Leans against she door.) Peugh! How are you? How are you ?— (Nodding to Shenkin.)

Shenkin (alarmed). How you to do? How you to do?

Tom. Sorry to break in so abruptly—Afraid I take you by surprize.

Shenkin. Not at all—we did expect you. Mr. Pinchyrell did threaten us with an officer.

Dame (aside to Shenkin). Be quiet, son—'tis the gentleman who lodges on the first floor; and when I tell you that his debts were almost all incurred in trying to relieve a friend, you'll not affront ■ »

Shenkin. Affront! Tear! I be very sorry, Sir—And yet, somehow, I be monstrous glad you be not a bailiff.

Tom. What! you, too, a shy cock—you, too, afraid of these agreeable . My dear fellow, give me your hand.—Here's a pair of us—My name is Tom Tick,


and just now the rascally landlord purposely let three officers into the passage. I heard them, and had no other way of escape but jumping up the chimney or flying into this garret: And here I am, and if you will but shelter me till I hear from my banker—but don't suppose I've change for sixpence there. Only—mum— coax'd him with a present yesterday—two Leicestershire pigs, aged six weeks or so; and to-day draw a bill on him dated six months or so—you comprehend—one

good turn

Sbenkin. No, I cannot guess—can you, mother?
Dame. No, I can't conceive.

Tom. Can't you? Then I'll tell you. I am owner of an inn, call'd the Castle, on the North Road; and my tenant, who is famous for his Leicestershire hogs, now and then indulges me with a breed. Very well! Then I fend a couple to rny banker, which he can't refuse, you know, and a day or two after I dra* a bill on him, which he likewise can't refuse, you know; for, having accepted the pigs, of course he accepts the bill; and before now, I have actually raised two hundred pounds by a single litter. There, that's the way to borrow money.

Sbenkin. So it is—and i'cot! Its dear pork for the banker—unless you pay it at last.

Tom. And if 1 don't, the banker can afford the loss: and for my other creditors, holders of bills, I have been swindled of—why, they know my hand, but not my face.

Sbenkin. Not know your face! Tom. No—I sign'd to serve a friend, who pass'd away my notes to common usurers; and last week, but for a fortunate circumstance—do you know, Sir, one of these fellows called a meeting of the whole body, and advertiled it to be held in a room that projected over the New River. When, luckily, the crowd was so immense, and the parties so enraged, that, at the moment they vow'd eternal vegeance, whiz! crack! went the floor, and souse! they all tumbled into the water. The Jews and money-lenders being used to ducking, got no

. c damage j

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