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Sir Herbert Melmoth - - Mr. Murray.

Leonard Melmoth - - Mr. H. Johnsto^,

Tom Tick ... Mr. Lewis.

Peter Post Obit - - Mr. Mundek.

Shenkin - ■ • - Mr-Knight.

Dr. Infallible » - Mr. Simmons.

Curfitor • f.'- • Mr. Waddy.

Pinchwell ... Mr, Atkins.

Capias • » • Mr. Beverley.

Malcour - , J. - Mr. Whitfield,.

Lady Melmoth - - Miss Murray.

Georgiana - - Mrs. Gibbs.

Dame Shenkin • - Mrs. Powell,

Servants, Creditors, &C.

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SCENE I. — An elegant Apartment at Sir Herbert




Sir Herbert and Curfitor discovered al & Table, with Writing Materials upon it.

Curfitor {writing.) XTs/ELL, well—that's sufficient, VV Sir Herbert; {puttingpaper in his pocket) 1*11 draw the deeds of conveyance according to these instructions. (Rises and takes out bis toalcb.) Bless me* past four in the morning I why, my lady is as late as usual.

Sir Herb. Past four! arid not yet come home. Oh, Ellen! Ellen 4

Curfitor. Nay; fretting won't bring her. I'll warrant stie won't return from lady Malcour's assembly these two hours; and I ask you again, Sir Herbert, after getting rid of one troublesome wife, what could induce you to marry your own ward? a girl not twenty years of

Sir Herb. That which even now makes me endure her dissipation and extravagance—affection—uncontroulable affection.—My former marriage was against my choice, and yielded me no happiness.

Curfitor. No 1 why it gave you a son,—as noble a youth as any in the service of his country.


Sir Herb. Yes; and love has not so amply filled my heart, but there is room tor Leonard. Yet, in Ell-n, in her disinterested, artless mind, I thought to find unceasing consolation.—I offered her my hand, and she, regardless of the difference of years, preferred her guardian to unnumbered suitors.

Curfitor. She did—even to the son of the lady she is now visiting—the handsome, the honourable Mr. Maicour.

Sir Herb. Yes: she chose me as her friend—protector—husband.

Curfitor. Granted—and a lucky preference ir was: for, in the two vears you have been married, she has been uncommonly active and industrious. Let me sec —she has got through the fifceen thousand in the funds —run you in debt as many more—and compelled you to fend for your son Leonard, to cut off the entail of the finest estate in all Pembrokeshire.

Sir Herb. Sir, I am the person to condemn her, not you.

Curfitor. Nay; I am, perhaps, somewhat blunt; but I remember, there was a time when Sir Herbert Melmoth would have blushed to owe any man a shilling, and would have perished, rather than have asked an affectionate son to sign away his inheritance.

Sir Herb. Why, yes: there was a time—Oh! how narrow are the bounds 'twixt virtue and disgrace! One crime so rapidly begets another, that he, who by extravagance is the author of his own poverty, will climb by any guilty steps till he ascend the heighth from whence he sell. What would you have me do?

Curfitor. What! control your wife—insist on her retrenching—

Sir Herb. I will—I'll talk to her (knocking at the

door) And, hark—most opportunely she's arrived—I'll go, and—

Enter Shenkin.

Sbenkin.' Look you, Sir Herbert—there be my Lady, and Mils Georgiana, and Mr. Malcour.


Sir Herb. Mr. Malcour with them!

Cursitor. Ay, there!—do you mark that?

Sir Herb. I do—and she shall find—sear not—I'm resolute—determined. [Exit,

Cursitor. So you think now—but one os her smiles will undo all.

Sbenkin. Inteed, and upon my life, so it will, Mr. Cursitor. Oh.tear! tear! 'tis now only eight months^ since I did disgrace the noble race of Shenkins by putting on a livery—and what I would give to be safe back at Abarathgwilly.

Cursitor. Abarathgwilly! what! then you come from Sir Herbert's neighbourhood?

Sbenkin. Iss: and tho' I do not like my place, I do still like my master; for there is strong similarities between us. We are both fine scholars, you do know,— both of noble families, you do know—To be sure, the Shenkins are older than the Melmoths by some centuries; but I do never mention it—because a man is not to be insulted for the blunders of his grandfathers and grandmothers, Mr. Cursitor.

Cursitor. Right—and if you knew Sir Herbert and his son in Wales—

Sbenkin. Knew him! pless my soul—my poor dead father was one of Sir Herbert's tenants.—He did keep a great pig Latin school in the mountains; and before he did die, Caractacus was his under-master.

Cursitor. Caractacus!—and, pray, who was he?

Sbenkin. I—I'm Caractacus. I'm the last prop of the pedigree—and you must know, my learned father had great griefs and troubles about his other children— for my brother, Alcibiades, did rob an orchard.

Cursitor. Alcibiades! Oh, 1 begin to comprehend, now—As a schoolmaster and a man of learning, your father was above giving his children such common names as William, Thomas, John.

Sbenkin. Jntecd, I cannot fay—But my brother Alcibiades did run away, and soon after Ajax Telamon did die of the hooping-cough, and the youngest of all did join a puppet-shew, and in fording a small rivulet,

A 4 Punch, Punch, his wife, and poor little Junius Brutus, alj went down together.

Cuffitor. Indeed, great losses !—But your mother—is she still living?

Sbenkiri. To be sure—and blessed be St. David 1 for I do love the good old lady better than chis and pippins. I did come to town with her to open a school and teach English—but, somehow, no scholar did come near us; —and then 1 did go out for usher—but, s mehow, the boys did laugh at me. I do find there is great difference between English English and Welch-English— and so I did hire lodgings for the old lady, and a place for myself—and if wearing a livery is benearh me, supporting, a mother isn't beneath me—And, in her son Caractacus, I do hope she will forget Alcibiades, and Ajax Telamon, and little Junius Brutus.

Cur/itor. Hush—Sir Herbert returns—now observe.

Enter Sir Herbert, Lady Melmoth, and Georgiana.

Lady Mel. Nay, now I am angry in my turn, Sir Herbert.—Suspect me of coquetting and flirting with any man but my husband! Come, cousin, you who so oft take part against me, can vindicate me now.

Georgiana. Oh yes, Sir Herbert! though lur'd by fashion into follies numberless, her heart is still at home; and if you've rivals to contend with—'tis in two infant pledges of your mutual love, whom she the more adores, because they so resemble you.

Sir Herb. Well, well,—'tis ever thus—her magic power disarms me of my anger—I'll think on't no more.

Lady Mel. In truth, you have no cause:—for since the day you proffered me this ring, my heart has never wandered, never—but don't now, don't mention it; for if the people I visit were to know «how much I love my husband, they'd so torment and ridicule me.

Sir Herb. And why—why dread their ridkule?

Lady Mel. 1 don't know—I'm a sad coward, I believe. But remember the ball we are to give to-morrow in the


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