Doctor. That I can't fay-but if you chufe to try-there is pen and ink in the next room-and depend on this-(fignificantly)-I'll take care of the letter.

Mrs. Villars. Indeed!-then let me fly-but what will it avail?-he only thinks of his adopted child-child-oh! I did hope that little Henry might

Doctor. Nay-nay-go write the letter-and if Sir Andrew forgets he is an uncle, do you forget you are a niece.

Mrs. Villars. Yes: but can I e'er forget I am a mother? at leaft that I have been one!-but I will make this effort whilft I've power-and if it prove that Heaven has call'd its little angel home! -may griefs accumulate, till death-no-for poor Villar's fake, I'll live and fmile!-I'll file though hidden anguish tortures and devours me!

[Exit.

Doctor. Bless my foul!-I wish the marriage were over-for I want to begin repenting directly -they are fo flow, I'm afraid I fhall be too late however it can't be broken off: for by this time the two Oxonians are as safe as Mrs. Villars-and fo before the day's out, I'll confefs every thing, and afk pardon of every body-and if getting through fuch a job as that in one day, isn't dilpatching bufinefs-why the devil's in't ĺ

Enter Sir Andrew Analyfe.

Sir Andrew. So Doctor-'tis all over! Door. What! thanks to Mifs Gurnet and the parfon; you are a happy married man!

Sir Andrew. No-thanks to the alderman and little Peter, I am a miferable bachelor-but I hope I hav'n't been rafh-I hope I hav'n't made a hafty definition

definition-and therefore I am come for vice-first, who is this Alderman?

Doctor. Why, a great friend of Mifs Gurnet'sand nothing more, believe me-come-come-I guefs how this has got into your head-young Analyfe or fome other disappointed relation

Sir Andrew. Right-the Oxonians began itbut afterwards-I fay-fuppofe we fend to them. Doctor. We must fend to the county gaol then. Sir Andrew. What! Jack couldn't pay !

Doctor. No-he told you that he came here for that honourable purpose-but I-in fhort, my good friend (taking his band), when-when did I ever deceive you?

Sir Andrew (taking his band). Never and fay that I am wrong

Do&or. I do and you fhall fay it to Mifs Gurnet-come-but be regular-marry firft, and be furry afterwards.

Enter Tourly.

Tourly. Ha! ha! ha! (laughing and leaning against the ftage door.)

Doctor. You here!-why zounds !-how did you raise money

Tourly. How!-—why by

Ha! ha! ha!

Sir Andrew (baving obferved him attentively). It is 'tis my basket acquaintance (afide)-speak Sir-what! or who is it you are laughing at?

Tourly. Not you, Sir, on my honour-for I hav'n't the pleasure of knowing you-but if like myself, you are travelling for amufement-ha! ha!-would you like to hear a merry adventure?

Sir Andrew. That I should-fo begin

Tourly. Why then, Sir, about a year and a half ago, one Sir Andrew Analyfe, a good natur'd credulous old Dictionary maker, configns from India an adopted infant, to the care of one Paul

E

Pliable,

Pliable, a cunning apologizing apothecary very well Sir!-on the decease of this child

Sir And. Decease!

Tourly. Softly, no interruption; the doctor eme ploys a certain gipfey to procure him another-and that other, molt unexpectedly, proving to be the fon of a certain Mr. Villars, the doctor naturally wishes to get his own neck out of the halter: very well-and who fhould he fix on for his bafke: carrier, but a certain facetious young Oxonian of the name of Tourly-who now not only pays him ninety-two guineas with his own money, but gives him the odd eight by way of helping him at the next affizes (giving Doctor the purse); ha! ha! you take the joke, don't you?

Sir. And. No, Sir, 'tis no joke; and before I believe one fyllable

Do&or. Don't, 'tis all falfe.

Sir And. Yes, Sir-'tis no laughing matter. Tourly. Isn't it? then it will be-for you must know that this faid facetious Mr. Tourly, mark'd the wrong door; and inftead of depofiting his charge at the faid doctor's, 'icod, he left it at an old maid's, the intended wife of the poor dictionary maker: now, don't you take the joke now? don't you fee old lexicon peeping into the bafket, and, inftead of a little monkey, faying "vide, a little mah!"

Sir And. No, Sir, I do not fee old lexicon-but know, to your confufion, you do.

Tourly. What, Sir Andrew! then I'll tell you more; fo eager were the faid old maid, and her faid affociate here, to pocket all your rupees and pagodas, that knowing Mrs. Villars was your favourite, they kept back her letters to India

Sir And. What, did the write to me-prove this, and fpite of every thing, I may laugh with you. Dolor. He can't-he has no evidence

Tourly.

Tourly. No!-what think you of your own fervant!-what think you of old blindman's-buff, my boy? (macking Doctor on the back, who holds down bis head, and turns away.)-Who met me-knew me-and faid he couldn't leave the kingdom, till he had made atonement-and I politely gave him leave to depart as I do you-Mifs Gurnet-the alderman and little Peter-but not Sir Andrew! -he must stay and be merry with his relationsand when I've finish'd my travels, which will be many years hence, I'll come home, and hear his Dictionary!

Sir And. You fhall hear it now-now, (taking out dictionary,) if 'tis only for releafing me from —(reads,) " Old maid!-An animal who delights in cards, calumny, curiosity, and cats-moftly to be found in cold climates-often in no climateand may be taken alive on May-day, Valentine's day, and all other days !"—(Reading on :)—" Docfor!-Vide Undertaker-Wig-Ready MoneySmall Talk-Calf's Head-Barber's Pole-and Old Woman."

Doctor. Sir Andrew!-as I am ready to atone to others, so I expect-but no matter-I forgive you.

Sir And. You forgive me!-when you have plac'd me in a fituation, perhaps, never to forgive myfelf-poor Maria! and poor-Zounds!-I fhall never dare to look them in the face!

Re-enter Mrs. Villars with a Letter.

Mrs. V. (to the Doctor). Here is the letter, Sir; -and may it prove- Heavens !-my uncle! -Oh! let me kneel! (croffes, and throws herself at his feet;-Sir Andrew, from agitation, turns away his head.) What!-'tis confirm'd!-he fhunsforfakes me !

4

Sir And. (raifing her up.) Maria!

Mrs. V. Ha! that well know found!-and may I hope-no-no-your once-lov'd niece has a new rival-she now muft yield to your adopted child

Sir And. You have a rival in my adopted child -for look!-behold him! (Giles rushes in with little Henry in his arms, and places him at Mrs. Villars' feet.) There!-there is my adopted child! Mrs. V. (clafping him in her arms.) My boy!my Henry!

Giles. Ay: Henry! -and I-Giles Woodbine, found him!-pray ye ftand back-one look!-let I once fee him cling around his mother!-there!afk no more, Gentlemen-I's afk no more!

Sir And. Afk any thing-every thing-except thefe darling treasures! (embracing Mrs. Villars and Henry.)

Mrs. V. Both! both reftor'd to me at once!

Tourly. Yes, Madam-and if you want to know the particulars, I fancy-How d'ye do, rny little gentleman? (to Henry.) How d'ye do ?-you don't recollect my face, perhaps but hang me! if ever I fhall forget yours!-fhall you, Doctor?

-

Sir And. Nay: leave him to his own reflections and but for this paper-found with the infant fufferer-which fhews fome feeling for its future fate, and proves the motive was neceffity.

Doctor. It was-and I beg

Tourly. No, Sir; I beg your pardon.
Doctor. I have but one-

Tourly. I beg a thousand pardons.-Good bye! [Exit Doctor. And now, Sir Andrew, allow me alfo to retire for I must tell my fellow traveller, that 'ftead of yourself, you mean to give away Sophia Wood

bine.

Sir