Giles. No-that I ben't-and if fchoolmaster or other defigning perfon goes to tempt I wi' wicked mathematics-by Gom! I'll make them ftand in white fheet-I knew it all along-when my head wouldn't cram itself wi' all thick foreign gibberishI knew it had good fenfible reafon for it!

Tourly. So it had-but fince my friend can vacate his preferment-and I've got your confent; now I'll get your fifter's-and as foon as they are married, you and I'll take fuch a long tour together for you have fo completely the face of an agreeable polt-chaile companion-that look at it for ever--for ever 'twill amule one.

Giles. Stop-I ha'n't confented

Tourly. You have, you merry rogue!-and I give you joy-for if Jack wer'n't worthy to be your brother, do you think I'd call him friend?— fo adieu!-and d'hear-inftead of a touch at cricket-invite all your rural friends to a wedding fupper-but not a word of the fellowship-for if you let out this mode of preventing matrimony, the whole county will be ftudying wicked mathematics !—mum-ftick to virtuous ignorancemum! [Exit.

Giles. Now this I do call mighty free and ircpudent-but I's feen enough of London fashions, to know it be genteel and ftylish-and fince it be clearly the fault of his inferiour education-why fomehow I won't fet my face-my face! Icod! I little thought it was fo full of fun-and I do hope he, ben't making game now-thof I don't think he be-for whether it be when I goes into company or whether when I do come out of itevery body do feem charm'd and delighted!-and it be certainly a great thing, to find and leave folk in good humour-(noife without)-heh!-what' now?-as I do live, Mr. Villars !

Enter

Enter Villars (baftily and much agitated).

Giles. Oh, Sir! I be fo grateful-why-blefs` me-what be the matter?-how you do fhake?--and look fo deadly pale?

Villars. Where is his mother?

Giles. Whofe mother?

Villars. Henry's!-my child's!-my loft-hufh -let her not hear it-never let her know-'fdeath! -why am I thus the victim of misfortune?-how have I finn'd as husband and as father?-father!oh! my poor boy!

Giles. What!-loft, did'ft say?

Villars. Ay: o'ertaken by this dreadful storm, and exhausted with terror and fatigue-his fond attendant fank fwooning and fenfelefs from his fide -and when at laft returning reafon came-in vain The fought the treasure the fo priz'd-he was not to be found!-and nurs'd and cherifh'd in his fond parent's laps-oh! ere this, the little wanderer has wept himself into a lafting fleep, and left me and his hapless mother (weeping).

Giles. Nay, nay, I'll find him if I do chop down the whole foreft-odfheart!-oftentime when we've been playing hide and feek, hasn't he bob'd in and out of bushes, like a young rabbit?-and he be at that game now-I's knaw it-I'll take bible oath on't-and thof I do love him as my own child, you fee I don't defpond Mr. Villars-I be not downhearted! (weeping.)

Villars (taking his band). Kind-honeft friend! but who fhall tell his mother of the tale?

Giles. Who!-why Henry !-little Henry fhall himself tell her-and likewife that thee his feyther did find, preserve, and bring him fafe home again! -come-it must-it fhall be fo-Heaven never do forfake the-virtuous.

Villars. No!-then why?-but let Maria once more clasp her Henry in her arms, and the fad fecret, which is rankling here, fhall be endur'd with patience-come-and the bright power, that watches over infant innocence, guide and befriend us! [Exeunt.

END OF THE SECOND ACT.

АСТ III.

SCENE - Outfide of Sir Andrew Analyfe's Houfe.-Park, Gardens, &c.

Enter Dr, Pliable and Frank.

Doctor.

BRAVO! bravo! had Sir Andrew arriv'd two days ago, my profpects had been ruin'd, but now I'm ready to receive him.

Frank. You are, Sir-and I'm fure you can't receive a kinder gentleman; for when Sir Andrew went to take poffeffion of his law appointment in India, every body was forry at his departure; whilft his brother the late proud baronet

Doctor. The late baronet! pooh! to prove what he was in one word, he wouldn't accept an apology, for when he found out that I continually took delight in killing his hares and partridges, he faid afking pardon was a joke, and actually indicted me at the quarter-feffions-but Andrew! kind, goodnatur'd Sir Andrew! oh! he has but one fault, and that is his ruinous paffion for fcribbling, printing, and publishing.

Frank. Ruinous, Sir!

Doctor. Ay; o'my conscience I believe as much time and money is to be loft in Paternofter-row, as in Pall Mall or St. James's ftreet; and by his laft

letter he is now writing a dictionary! a new original dictionary-but here he is-go, and remember[Frank exit.

Enter Sir Andrew Analyse.

Doctor. Welcome to England! why, rank and riches hav'n't the leaft alter'd you; that isn't the countenance of a nabob!

Sir And. No, doctor-I've stuck to my old regimen, amufement-conftant amufement; and what with love, literature, and friendship, I've fuch plenty in perspective-first, there's my adopted child, and for the care you have taken of him, I fhall inftantly increase the allowance-that's amufement for you; then 1 fhall take a wife, doctor,

Doctor. Whar! your old flame, Mifs Gurnet? Sir And. Ay, there's amusement for her, and fo I've just told her-then, "laft, not least," comes my new dictionary: oh! there's amufement for every body!

Doctor. I hope it may-but pardon me, Sir Andrew, fo many authors have already compil'd dictionaries

Sir And. Author! now that's it-look into Johnfon, Bailey, and little Entick, for the meaning of the word "author," and you will find it is one who is a "writer" is that a definition?-why they might as well fay, an author is an author!— but look into my dictionary, and you will fee under the fame word, not only ample explanation, but wit, fatire, and character! videlicet-(taking manufcript from his pocket, and reading) " Author-one who never lives till he dies-who gets lefs in a year than an underwriter does in an hour-who gives the wall to newspaper editors, reviewers, and managers who lies at the mercy of devils-may be damn'd for a fhilling-and instead of a crown of