perhaps to death, two as generous, and as noble hearts -well, well-drooping won't fave them. Come, rouse, and exert yourfelf-And look! there's caufe for it already; for here comes Poft Obit to vent forth all his anger and reproaches-No matter-he fhall fee I'll carry it off with gaiety and spirit.

Enter Poft Obit (baftily).

Poft Obit. So, Mr. Tick, I've found you out at last. And, who do you think I've to thank for it?

Tom. The quack, Sir-of course the quack.

Poft Obit. Yes-I'll tell you how it was. Not feeing you at Lawyer Curfitor's, I went out to look for you, and meeting the Doctor, I afk'd him if he knew where you lodged? He told me at Mr. Capias's, N° 197, Carey-Street--and that, if I'd go there, I fhould fee you in all your glory. Very well! fo, owing to the dark nefs of the night, and my ignorance of London, 'twas fometime before 1 found the house-and then, to be certain I was right, I laid to Mr. Capias's fervant, "Are you fure Mr. Tick lodges here?" "O, yes, Sir," fays he; "I'm fure Mr. Tick is one of Mr. Capias's lodgers."-And then he fmil'd, and I fmil'd ;and, upon my word, I envy you these beautiful apartments. But come, I've done the agreement-fo, go, go fign your will.

Tom. What, at your old facetious tricks, I feethat's a good joke to a man that's confined.

Poft Obit. Confined! what the devil-(getting close to Tom, and looking in his face) Is it fo bad with you, that you are confined?

Tom. Pooh! you fee it is.

Poft Obit. What! and by the doctor's orders? Tom. Why, you know it's by the doctor's orders. Poft Obit. Not I-he only told me where you lodg'd. Blefs me! he does look charmingly ill indeed! (afide) how was it? were you taken fuddenly?

Tom. Very-and in the old place too, in the fhoulder. Poft Obit. And if you ftir out without the doctor's leave, will the confequences be dangerous?

Tom.

Tom. Fatal, you comical rogue ; fatal.

Poft Obit. Bravo! If I can but get him into the night air, he'll make his will in one hour, aud take to his bed the next. (Afide.) Nonfenfe! go to Curfitor'sI'll stay, and fatisfy the doctor.

Tom. Will you? Lenitive! (going to the wing and calling.)

Poft Obit. Heh-who's Lenitive?

Tom. The doctor's agent-Lenitive! (calling again.) Poft Obit. The doctor's agent! Ag-Oh! Oh! I understand the apothecary. (Afide.)

Re-enter Capias.

Tom. Here, my boy-here's Mr. Poft Obit-and I don't know whether he is in jest or earnest-; but he fays he'll be anfwerable to the doctor.

Poft Obit. Yes, yes-you may let him out-l'll ftay, and be answerable to the doctor.

Capias. I'm fatisfied-this way, Mr. Tick.

Tom. Ha! ha! this is the best joke I ever heardbut it won't be complete till I am fairly out of the houfe-So, good night-It coft me fome money to get into thefe beautiful apartments, as you call them; and if it costs you any to get out of them, you'll fay it's one of Tom Tick's legacies, you know.-Come, Lenitive-but ftay-tay-(Speaking as if alarm'd) fuppose I'm detain’d.

Poft Obit. Plha! don't let them detain you-fay I'm answerable.

Tom. Better and better! ha ha! you are, indeed, a damn'd comical dog-he! he! you'll kill me with laughing. [Exit with Capias.

Poft Obit. Ha! ha! fo I kill you, curfe me if I care how it's done. What a fool it is! the caftle and all its magnificent appurtenances are mine-gad! I hope it's a fine foggy night-I'll fee-I'll peep out of the window. [Goes up stage.

Enter

Enter Shenkin.

Shenkin. How you to do, Mr. Post Obit?

Poft Obit (not regarding kim, but undrawing curtains). Why, what's here? bars? What does he do with bars? Surely he has no children! no infernal little heirs at law (coming down the stage, and meeting Shenkin) nor is he mad, nor-Zounds! 'tis very odd! Taffy, do you know Mr. Tick?

Shenkin. Ifs, fure-I do know he did fave my poor mother from prison, and fo I did come here to fhew my gratitude! but, pleffings on you! you were beforehand with me-I do find you are anfwerable for all the debts and detainers-And, therefore, well may you peep thro the iron bars. Tear! tear! having let the bird out of the cage, what joy muft you feel to fee it hop away in health and liberty!

Poft Obit. Cage! (looking round at the window.) Shenkin. Ifs, cage or fpunging-housefpunging-house-'tis one and the fame thing, you de know (bere Poft Obit is in great agitation.) And how do I envy you thefe ecftacies?Oh! what I would give to have taken the weight off his fhoulders!

the

Poft Obit. Damn his fhoulders, and you, and-yes, yes, I fee it now-the lodgings,-the confinemer.t, apothecary!-Well-well-but, perhaps-yes. this diftrefs may be only temporary-and his property in the north. Hark ye, Sir,-you know he's owner of a caftle (baking Shenkin).

Shenkin. Owner of a caftle !-Oh! I do recollect now Ifs, fure-and by the price he do get for his Leicesterfhire pigs, I do think it be an inn of fome confequence. Poft Obit. An inn! the caftle an inn! Shenkin. Ay-it be no caftle in the air, I affure, [Poft Obit going.

you.

Capias without to Dame Shenkin. Capias. Here's the perfon you inquired after (enters with Dame Shenkin, who takes Shenkin afide). And if you please, Mr. Poft Obit, you may as well

now,

pay

pay what you are anfwerable for.-The plaintiff's debts, you fee, (fhewing account) is two hundred pounds, and the detainers already four hundred-and then there's the cofts and the fees. (Poft Obit rushes out behind him). What! an escape! Oh, ho! ftop the prifoner there! ftop the prisoner! [Exit after bim.

Shenkin (coming forward with Dame Shenkin). Tear! tear! what fad doings? But, perhaps you did not hear right, mother-perhaps you do mistake.

Dame (weeping). Oh, that I did! for I have lived too long-yes, I have lived too long.

Shenkin. Plefs my foul! Mr. Leonard dying!

Dame. Yes, I tell you-his wounds have proved fatal. And Mr. Malcour, in whofe house he is now breathing his laft, not only won't let any of his family come near him, but actually threatens to lay a charge against Sir Herbert for wilfully destroying him.

Shenkin. Mr. Leonard given over-and Sir Herbert accused-and-lord! lord! at fuch a moment we mus'n't forfake my old mafter, mother.

Dame. Forfake him! No-We'll go directly, and find out the real culprit for I am fure Sir Herbert's innocent.

Shenkin. Sure! I'll take my oath of it-Come this moment-and, as his other friends have forfaken him, you fhall be his nurse, Alcibiades his physician, and Caractacus again his fervant-Yes, mother, this hand fhall work for him-and fince rough misfortune has beat my old mafter down, it fhall be found ftrong and willing to lift him up again. [Exeunt.

SCENE III.-An Apartment at Malcour's-folding Doors in back Scene.

Enter Sir Herbert and a Servant.

Sir Herbert. Let me pafs-let me once more enfold within my arms, the wrong'd, the dying Leonard.

Servant.

Servant. Sir, 'tis too late; my mafter just now told us the fatal hour was approaching, and therefore his af faffin fhou'd be seized.

Sir Herbert. Look at me-I am his father. Have you the heart, at fuch a moment, to feparate fon and parent?

Servant. His father!

Sir Herbert. Ay, that culprit Mr. Malcour is in fearch of-that hapless wretch, 'gainst whom the proofs are most demonstrative and ftrong; for I've no evidence of junocence, but here-but my boy! Let him not curse me with his parting breath-and, then, conduct me where you please I will furrender to my fate..

Servant. Indeed, I know my mafter will condemn me-but for my life I cannot now refift a father's claim. You may go in, Sir,-yonder is the chamber.

Sir Herb. Thanks! thanks! (ftops and trembles.)There did you fay there-heavens! was ever guilt fo bold? But let me implore his pardon and his pity-and then, moft welcome my accufer.-Death has to me no ferrors-No, existence is the villain's punishment!

[Exit at door in back scene.

Enter Malcour.

Malcour. How, Sir-why don't you attend the door? Go, fhew up Lady Melmoth! [Exit Servant.] Oh, this is beyond my hopes! the humbled fair already in my houfe to fue for mercy! already!-but he comes!

Enter Lady Melmoth.

Lady M. Oh, fpare him, Mr. Malcour-Not for poor Leonard I implore you I know too well you can't avert his fate, but fpare my husband!

Malçour. Nay, Madam, when I was fuitor, did you fhew me mercy? Or am I fo indebted to Sir Herbert, as to connive to ferve him?

-

Lady M. Ah! think of two tender ones who never wrong'd you I am unfit to guard so dear a charge, and