Robert.(Clapping on his hat and ftrutting.) It's fhe-coufin Bell's my lady !-and I-dang it-I wonder what I be; I suppose a fort of a man of honour at least-mayhap, a kind of a half lord; fomething like the mayor of our town here. But ftop now, Bob-don't you be counting your eggs before you are fure the thi g's fartain.-And where to learn this?-Oh-from his uncle-I'll go afk him directly; and if I find I'm really of this pretty koind of pedigree, and you come cuffing and collaring, Mifter Sapling- -I'd better take care though-what with practice and leffons, 1 dare fay Bell has taught him to try my fenfibility that way alfo. [Exit.

SCENE.-An Apartment in Delauny Houfe. In the Flat three Gothic Windows formed of Transparencies-the Centre Window exhibiting the Painting of the "Veftal buried alive," very large and marking-the two other Windows of a lefs fize, with any fancied Transparencies. Being Night, the Windows are not illuminated.— On one Side is a Picture not finished, with Appa ratus for Painting; on the other a Table, with Books, Papers, and Candles upon it.-Sir EDWARD DELAUNY and PAUL POSTPONE difcovered fitting

near it.

Sir Edw. Yes, Sir,-my conduct needs not vindication; I can avow it to the world.-On my acceffion to the title and eftate, I found this wretch imprisoned for atrocious murder-his wife confin'd for lunacy incurable; and whilft refpect for him I reprefent bids me feek vengeance on the vile affaffin, humanity ftill prompts me to fecrete the wretched loft Amelia.-Am I not juftified in both?

Paul. Why, I don't like off-hand opinions, Sir

Edward;

Edward; my plan is to recur to law books :-but I rather fancy you've no power over the lunatic.

Sir Edw. No! Then read Sir Frederick's will-made on the morning of his death. (Reads.) "I die in peace with my unhappy daughter, and "in the cafe of her recovery, bequeath her my "eftate for life;-but to preferve it from her "hufband's power, I nominate my nephew her "trustee, and on her death, devife the whole to "him."-Now, is fhe not at my difpofal?-and if the villain fhould efcape from juftice, fhall he e'er know the place of her confinement ?-No

never.

Paul. Never!

Sir Edw. No-till they can prove he's reflor'd to reafon-and that's a hopeless profpect none dare arraign me !-But to prevent his ever interfering, let us fecure conviction; and this witnefs-on whofe fole evidence his fate dependsthis ftage-ftruck daughter, who profeffionally knows all arts, all ftratagems--oh! if the 'scape our fearch, is there no other way?

Paul. None! no witness-no verdict.

Sir Edw. Then let me hafte again to feek her; and if found-of courfe you have prepar'd the neceffary process.

Paul. What pro-oh! aye :-the fubpoena. No;-I've been fo taken up with other parts of the cafe-but I'll tell you what-I'll fill it up this moment (going tawards the table)-this moment(mufic without). Heh! where's that delightful mufic? Sir Edw. In the next room-and they'll disturb and interrupt you.—I'll stop them as I pafs.

Paul. Don't, on my account. I like muficoften fing a merry fong myfelf--and as there's nothing elfe, after filling up this little affair-gad I'll make one amongst them (fitting down and beginning to write).

Sir Edw.

Sir Edw. You forget-the pleadings are not half prepar'd, and every moment of your time is precious (as he is going, enter HONORIA). Honoria! what brings you here?

Honoria. 1 come by Mrs. Sapling's orders, to paint a copy of that reprefentation of the "Veftal buried alive."

Sir Edw. Well, well, dispatch-for it shall be remov'd-the fight is hateful to me.

Honoria. Why hateful, Sir?

Sir Edw. Why?-Oh nothing, nothing-but yonder's my folicitor, and mind that you difturb him not. And now, Sir,-be but as active and as zealous as the caufe deferves, and our fuccefs is certain. (Exit. HONORIA previously feats herself, and begins painting unseen by PAUL,-he during the time is writing.)

Paul. I'll be active-I'll-now that I call a complete idle country gentleman, who will let nobody have any pleasure but himself; however, only let me fill up this infernal procefs, and fee if I a'n't in the thick of the mufical party; for after fuch a fag as this, devil's in't if I mayn't enjoy myfelf, and mufic's a thing I'm dotingly fond of. So- Hereford fhire to wit" (writing). "Lovely, lovely Chloe !" (Singing.)

Honoria. (Painting.) Upon my well-pray fing on, Sir.

word-extremely

Paul. Sing on! (Looks up, fees her, and smiles.) Blefs my foul-another thing I'm fo doatingly fond of!and look here now-I hav'n't even time tooh you little rogue !-I only wish it were the long vacation-but as it is-" Herefordshire to wit," "Lovely, lovely Chloe !" (writing and finging.)

Honoria. That's right, you've an excellent voice, and I'd rather you'd do any thing than carry on this cruel profecution, (rifes and comes down the

ftage.)

Stage). Perhaps by fome neglect of his, St. Orme might ftill be fav'd-I'll try-Oh! Lord, here's my guardian.

Enter SAPLING with manuscript music in his band.

Sapling. Oh, my dear Honoria!-what fhall I do? where fhall I go?-whom shall I apply to? -Poor Mrs. Sapling, and poor Mr. Privilege!

Honoria. What's the matter, Sir?-any accident? Paul. (Putting the fubpana in his pocket, and coming on the other fide of Sapling.)-Aye, what's the matter, Sir?-any accident?

Sapling. Dreadful-he's taken hoarse! now-an hour before the fylvan fête, Mr. Privilege is taken hoarfe, and there's an end of his and my wife's duet. Paul. An end of their duet!

Sapling. Yes: I offer'd to take his part here (pointing to the paper); but it seems my voice is too natural. They fay I'm no finger, because I don't quaver, and jerk, and twift my body, and make horribly ugly faces-and it's very wrong of them-I know it's all affectation-for I'm fure in their hearts, they'd rather hear fuch a queer fellow as I am, fing "Old Ramjudrah," than all the fine flourishing tongs in the univerfe.

Paul. So they wou'd-and at the end, applaud, as I applaud at the opera.

Sapling. What do you applaud at the opera? Paul. Always-for joy that it's over. But you want a fubftitute, do you? (Looking at the mufic -chuckling and fmiling.)

Honoria. He does: and can't you recommend one, Mr. Poftpone ?

Paul. I-Oh fie, Ma'am !-I hope you don't infinuate

Honoria. Speak to him, guardian-his voice is only equal'd by his modefty.-Nay: you know

it's true-and by your own account you've toil'd enough for this day.

Paul. I have-I've work'd like a horfe; and if I thought the ladies with'd it-(going to take the mufic from SAPLING)-but no-Sir Edward will be angry.

Sapling. Nonfenfe !-as mafter of the house 'twill be doing him a favour.

Paul. Will it ?

Honoria. To be

the way, you know.

fure, and you won't be out of

Paul. No more I fhall. (fill chuckling.) Sapling. And if you refufe, a great finger muft be fent for at a great expence.

Paul. So there muft-and if I fing a hundred fongs, I can but charge 6s. and 8d. each ;-come along-give me the part-let fomebody play it over -and, once in my life, I will relax for half an hour.

Sapling. There's a noble lawyer for you;-Oh I wish I had known you fooner-you fhould have drawn my marriage fettlement.

Paul. Never mind-where there's law and parchment before marriage, there's generally law and parchment after; and if any little accident fhould happen (whispers_bim)—between ourfelves, now-a-days married people are the best clients.But come ;-and don't be afraid of my being natural-no-my voice is like an inftru

ment.

-

Sapling. Ah! that's the true ftyle. But, begging your pardon, if it be the fashion for fine fingers to resemble inftruments, I wish there were inftruments to resemble fine fingers :-then they might be had at a lefs price-would be free from colds and hoarfeneffes-and inftead of Venice and Naples, they might be manufactur'd at Sheffield and Birmingham. [Exeunt.