Doctor. This! why what's this cafe to that of one of my patients, to whom I fent a wrong medicine? -Says I-"I afk your pardon ;"-fays he-"'Tis all that can be done now ;"-and he died ;-completely convinc'd I was as much of a gentleman as a doctor. But go in, Frank, and be fure you are ready to attend the gipfey-for recollect, though I've made much money by chemicals and Galenicals, I have so much more than spent it in building and repairing, that I may fafely fay, what I've gain'd by the peltle, I have loft by the mortar.

[Exit Frank.

Enter Mifs Gurnet from her House.

Mifs G. So, coufin, am not I in the right now? -Sir Andrew is expected every day; and had you followed Mifs Gurnet's advice, would you have been prepared for him in this manner?

Doctor. Prepared! how do you mean?

Mifs G. Mean! why, in confequence of his niece's difobedient conduct, didn't he adopt a child in India? and, eighteen months ago, confign it to your care with an allowance of three hundred a year?

·་

Doctor. Granted-and in his laft letter to me, isn't there this beautiful paffage?-Oh! I could read it for ever (taking out a letter and reading). My dear Doctor! As you are fo partial to my adopted infant, and I know no perfon more capable of improving both his health and understanding, I fhall not on my arrival remove him from your protection; but as long as he remains with you, (which will be at leaft till the age of fourteen,) I fhall annually encrease the allowance of three hundred per annum." There! and look! here is a quarter in advance!

Mijs G. And will you accept it?-when only three days ago, owing to neglect, want of skill, and not confulting me, didn't the child lofe his life?

Doctor. No, he's recover'd,-and Sir Andrew fhall behold both me and his adopted infant, bloom, ing with health, beauty, and vigour.

Mifs G. Recover'd !-impoffible! Don't I know the child died

Doctor. And don't you know I'm a Doctor; and allow me three hundred a year, and, tiresome as you are, see if I don't even keep you alive ;—but if you talk of being prepar'd, what will Sir Andrew fay to you?

Mifs G. To me, Sir!

Doctor. Ay: previously to his leaving England, didn't you promise him your virgin hand?-but, not expecting he'd fo foon return with rank and riches, hav'n't you been lately coquetting with a certain fmug alderman?-hav'n't he and his fifter, Lady Davenant, been on a vifit at your houfe?and fince they went away, hav'n't you and the faid fmug alderman exchang'd love presents?

Mifs G. Exchang'd presents!

Doctor. Ay: didn't he fend you Ovid's Art of Love and Mrs. Glaffe's Art of Cookery ?-and, in return, didn't you send him a miniature of himself? namely, a marmofet,-little Peter as you called him!

Mifs G. Silence! I command you;-for if Sir Andrew were to hear it even whisper'd

Dolor. Oh! oh! then the Nabob is the lucky

man.

Mifs G. To be fure, Sir; if I once broke a facred promife, what apology could I make to him or to myfelf?

Doctor. None;-and therefore make your apology to the alderman; or if 'is at all unpleasant to

you,

you, I've a great many to make to-morrow, and I'll take him in my rounds.

Mifs G. The alderman I fear not-'tis Mrs. VilJars Sir Andrew's ungrateful niece

Door. Ay: I'm also afraid of her, I fee by my friend Sir Andrew's letters he has ftill a concealed affection for her; and if they meet and are reconcil'd; I tell you what,-it is our duty to prevent it.

Mifs G. It is, and I have already done much by fuppreffing thofe letters fhe fent me to forward (Giles fings without);-but here comes one who can do more, here's my nephew, Giles Woodbine, juft return'd from his firft vifit to London.

Doctor. Ay: here he is!-gad!-I wonder whether the Cocknies have corrupted him.

Enter Giles Woodbine.

Mifs G. Welcome home, boy.
Giles. Thank ye, aunty, koindly.

Mifs G. Well; how have you been amused? Doctor. Ay isn't London a rare place, Giles? Giles. Icod!-it be a queer one;-and fomehow you fee, I cannot fay ought about it; for my head was all the time in fuch an odd wizzy wazzy ftate, that I cannot for the foul of me, make out whether I faw St. Pauls in the city or in the Panrama, or Weftminster Hall in Moorfields or the new pantomime.

Mifs G. Why furely you weren't out of your fenfes.

Giles. Ees: I were though; and rather loik'd it! -but what should come to pafs,-the Londoners had heard as how I was a tidy hand at cricket, fo they fent for me to play in grand thousand guinea match-between one Squire Long-hop and my Lord High-home-and-eafy;-and I have but one

hit you knaw-but that be a lapper all round field to be fure;-and I have but one koind of bowlbut that be dead fartin to knock down my wicket or my man,fo I did pretty hobling-I got his Jordship a hundred notches-and I broke fo many hins, bars, and fingers, that he won thoufand guineas; and then he offer'd I five out of them-but he he! I told him I didn't come to town to get money, I came to fee fights and curiofities-and therefore if his Lordship had no objection, I'd go home and take a bit of dinner with him.

Doctor. Dine with his Lordship!
Mifs G. And did he confent?

Giles. Ees fure-a chuckl'd woundily at the thought on't-and who fhould I meet there but her Lady ship, and a pack o' your tip-top ftylifh laffes;

at first I was pos'd a bit, and thought the curft French dishes had poifon'd me,-but after a glafs or two o' fomewhat like fham cyder, I found myelf and the laffes all fmiling and ogling at each other-and juft then, and be hang'd to un, my Lord nodded to my Lady, and away fhe went wi all my fweethearts-but that wou'dn't do for Iicod!-I follow'd them!

Doctor. Follow'd the ladies!

Giles. Ay: that I did-but fome o' your busy butterfly chaps brought I back again-fin'd me bumper after bumper, and ax'd how long I had made my escape from one Pidcock-I do think they did call un-in Exeter Change?—I told them I pretty well guels'd what they meant; but that I was neither born a beast, nor would I stay with them and make myfeif one!and fays I, "If Lunnun and fashion do teach folk to turn young women out of company, give I nature and cheek by jole, as long as long as I do live:"--and here I be nearly as I went; for if transplanting the tree have a lide damag'd the top on't, rot me, bur

the

the trunk and the core be as tight and as found as

ever.

Mifs G. Now this is following my advice-I made him what he is-two years ago I took him from his father's farm.

Giles. So you did, aunt, and tutored I wi' a pack of fuch nice hard words, that ever fince I's felt infpir'd-or more properly fpeaking, confpired wi’ love and gratitude: but yet one fhouldn't find fault wi' poor feyther, he did want the needful, you know.

Doctor. Nay; not fo much but he could afford to leave you a nice fnug farm in the forest.

Mifs G. Ay, the one that Villars rents and that's well thought of, fince his leafe has long expired, I beg you'll get another tenant.

Giles. Why, Mr. Villars do pay as punctualMifs G. No matter, I have good reasons for removing him and his wife.

Doctor. So have 1, and therefore turn him out directly.

Giles. Hauld, hauld, I's always ready to take advice, if I think there be aught good in it: but fomehow Mr. Villars and I do often fport, fish, and cricket together; and when I did fet out for Lunnun, his fweet lady did take her dear boy Henry in her arms, and bid him kifs and with me fafe home again. I tell you what, the topic fhall have fair play; but if my mind don't change confumedly, I had far rather give them the farm, than turn them out on't; for I might fleep o'nights without having it here (putting his hand to his pocket), but domme if I could, without having it here (putting his band to his heart); and now I'll go in, and drink both your better healths in a glass o' real cyder, for I's plaguy hot and weary wi' journeying.

Mifs G. Go, Sir, but dare not to refuse me.