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"the mountains; and never forget that you alone "were present at the murder—that there's no "other witness to convict me; 'tis for your fake «* and your unfortunate mother's that I wish to "live—Conceal yourself but four days longer, "and we may still meet and still be happy 1"

Oh! let'me fly to my retreat! Tell him I

cheerfully obey his wishes and thank him for his counsel. (gaoler exit, and Lauretta going up stage, stops on seeing it lit J)—Ha! the morning breaks, and the broad glare of day will lead to my discovery !—unseen to reach the mountains is impossible !—weak, thoughtless girl !—to risk so

much for selfish—momentary joy! What's to

be done? 1 know hard by, there is a thick

impervious wood—there, I'll secrete myself 'till night, and then set forth again—and if thy safety rests on my concealment, fear not, my father !—we will be happy still. [Exit.

Enter Sternly and two Servants of Sir Edward Delauny's.

Sternly. Come—bustle—to your daily occupation lads—search every where for the witness, and recollect how near 'tis to the assizes.

ist Servant. We do.—But when you recollect 'tis now five months since Sir Frederick's death, and that we've hunted for this Miss Lauretta every day—

Sternly. Aye, plague on her, she got all this knowledge of tricks, shifts, and disguises, from turning stage player—but the present baronet is bent upon revenge, and that the trial may be properly conducted, he expects this very morning a great London Solicitor—one Mr. Postpone—fam'd for integrity and talent—and if our only evidence be not forth coming, how can even he assist us!—

A 4 so so away—lose not a moment, whilst I wait his arrival at the inn. (Servants exeunt.)—Yes, yes; I must look about me like Sir Edward, for if Mr. St. Orme don't suffer, I fancy somebody else will.

Henry Sapling {without).

There !—there, you rogues!

Sternly. Hah !—Who comes here ?—Surely not the London lawyer already. (Looks out.) No—as I live, Mr. Henry Sapling! who has been at sea these four years—the nephew of my old neighbour. —1 wonder whether he's the fame unsuspicious, simple youth he us'd to be.

Enter Henry Sapling in a naval uniform, followed by two Post boys.

Henry. (His purse in his hand.) There—that's for the chaise and four—and here—here's a guinea for yourselves. (Exeunt Post-boys.)—What, Sternly! *—my old acquaintance Sternly !—why, how you

stare and gape. 1 dare fay, now, you think this

extravagant travelling.

Sternly. To be sure I do.

Henry. Well—it's very likely—but I'm just come from sea, to touch a legacy; and, between ourselves—we sailors are so unus'd to accounts and economy, and—in short, I feel money such a load to me, .that I see I shan't sail pleasantly till I've

chuck'd it all overboard. But, I say—how's

nunky?

Sternly. Oh!—quite a new man since you saw him.—Why 'tis but a fortnight ago, he married Sir Edward's cousin.

He nry. Married is he ?—Thank fortune!—So am not I, Master Steward.

Sternly. Why thank fortune ?—I think I could recommend a wife to you, Mr. Sapling.

Henry. Henry. Whose wife ?—Not nunky's I hope. Sternly. No—his ward—the lovely Miss Honoria, who was brought up with you.

Henry. Pflia—don't talk of it—she's a charming creature \—but a wife !—do you know, Sternly, in all the storms and battles I've encounter'd, tha: was my consolation—says I—" never mind—blow on my boys!—you're nothing to the gales of matrimony."—No—give me quiet—independence—

liberty give me Lady Sensitive.

Sternly. Lady Sensitive !—Who's' Lady Sensitive?

Henry. Mum—fay nothing—met her at the Opera.—pick'd up her fan—handed her to her low chariot—receiv'd her card—call'd next morning—

neat house in Mary-le-bone green blinds

flower-pots—singing birds—black boys—white liveries—and she and her maid so fashionably dress'd, that, upon my honour, all their clothes put together only weigh'd two ounces three scruples.

Sternly. Pstia—this is a trick—she'll lead you into dissipation.

Henry. No—she'll make me domestic—she's so fond of me, that if perchance I dine at the coffeehouse, she sends me twenty messages before the cloth's remov'd—and if I don't return at the moment she expects me—poor foul! she goes into a fit!—yes, she does—I find her screaming, and the ♦hole house swimming with rurtshorn, laudanum, and cordials—there's tenderness !—there's love for you!

Sternly. Love with a vengeance !—but pray— about the load ?—-{pointing to the pocket.)—Don'c she help you to chuck some of it overboard?

Henry. No—there's the worst of her—she's so proud, and so disinterested, that, except now and then allowing me to pay her coachmaker, and her

upholsterer upholsterer, and her milliner. Oh, yes;—flic

carries it so far, that t'other day, when her humanity threw her into a spunging house, she didn't let me know ir, for a whole half hour, Sternly j—But I forget—I promised to return in three days, and every post overset the mail with love letters.—And that I may be punctual, now to visit nunky.— (Going.)

Sternly. Stop—that isn't the way—to divert Sir Edward's gloom, he and Mrs, Sapling keep the honeymoon at Delauney house—and there you'll find Miss Honoria also—and so, good day—

Henry, Pooh! What do I care for Miss Honoria? I tell you the word "Wife," is to me slavery—chains—leaks—short allowance—sea-sickness—and a press-gang—no—let me be a free man —go where I like—do what I like—stayZounds I there's the mail coach—I must make haste with my love-letters, or there'll be more fits, hartshorn, laudanum, and cordials, [Exeunt.

SCENE.—An Apartment at an Inn.

Paul Postpone (without).

Waiter! Waiter!

Waiter. (Without.) Coming, Sir,—coming. Paul. (Without.) Where is this room, and the wine, and the sandwiches?

Waiter (without). Here, your honour—all ready.

Enter Paul Postpone in a Tavelling Dresshis Clerk wish a bagand, twt Waiters, with Table, Chairs, Wine, and Sandwiches.

Paul, {taking off his Hat, and puffing and fanning himjelf.) Pheugh! What a fagging life is mine !— Never a moment's relaxarion!—No sooner the drudgery of term over, than brought from London

to to flave at the assizes here—and on a Saturday— the day I always run down to my Brentford villa. -—but here (seeing wine, &c.)—here's consolation— Clerk! fit down, Clerk.

Clerk. Sir, I thank you—but really it is time to go into the cafe now—consider, sir, you have so put it off from day to day, that you hav'n't even read your client's instructions.

Paul, (having fat down.)— Pstia—time enough to-morrow—and never—-never talk business on an empty stomach, (eating and drinking) Waiter !— tell us something about your town—whose fine seat is that on the hill?

Waiter. Mr. Scrip's—a stock-jobber, sir.

Paul. And the large stone house in the valley?

Waiter. Mr. Shortstuff's, sir—another stocks jobber,

Paul. Two stock-jobbers!—damme, that's two much for one town.—Clerk, here's, "may lame ducks multiply.'' {both drink.)

Enter Sternly.

Sternly. Mr. Postpone, I understand happy

to wait on a gentleman lo celebrated for honestyindustry— {bowing.)

Paul. Sir! (bowing in return, but not quitting bis feat.)

Sternly. I am sent by Sir Edward Delauny, to beg you'll come instantly to his house, and consult on the case.

Paul. Sir, my compliments to Sir Edward,— and in the first place, never stir till the bottle's out —and, in the next, bid him not be afraid—I'll bring him off.

Sternly. Bring him off! why, he's the prosecutor.

Clerk (aside—across the table).—There, sir, I told you how it would be.

1l Paul,

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