Albyn and his charming wife.---Bless them! I love them both with all my heart and soul!

Lord B. Very likely; but I do not love them; and I and my nephew will play them trick for trick, Sir.

Mod. You sha'n't; for I won't stir, till you give up such paltry, hacknied plots.---No, here I sit till I am authorised to say, that you will influence Sir Arthur to forgive his son; and, then, I shall receive those captivating looks, which, in your heart--Come, come,---women are kind to lords, and lords, like you, are always kind to them.---You are, and you consent?

Lord B. I do not; and let me ask, can nobody try to confer obligations, without my having a hand in them?

Mod. I have tried---I've been out all night, scouring the county round.---Exploring vallies, villages, and woods---employing criers, offering rewards---and the next favour that I want, is, franks for all these letters. (Producing them.) They are to magistrates in distant towns-and they enclose this printed full description.

Lord B. ( (Eagerly.) What! what description,

Sir?

Mod. (Rising.) Why this---(taking out handbill) And, could I trace the profligate---Look--(reading it.) "Missing, and supposed to be in the hands of some villain in this neighbourhood, a young woman, aged eighteen,---blue eyes,---auburn hair,---fair complexion,---had on a brown gown, chip hat, white shawl"--

(Lord B. is all this time trembling violently and occasionally looking round at the door.) There! and whoever she be found with,---hark ye! Lord B. Eh!

Mod. A brave stout countryman will take the fighting part; but for the sprightlier line of paragraphs and print-shops, ---why, I will so identify

his person, that if he peeps but through a window, the women shall all blush, and say,---" Oh! are you there, you naughty, wicked Tarquin ?---But, the first favour first. (Going to sit down again.) So. here I sit, till you promise to befriend Mrs. St. Albyn.

Lord B. Don't,--don't sit---I'll promise any thing, every thing---frank the letters befriend St. Albyn---nay, grant a thousand favours more, so you will only leave me to myself!

Mod. As I expected,---and I'm gone.---And, now had I followed the old hacknied plan, and fawned and bowed, and been agreeable, you would have only bowed me out, and fretted at the interruption; but I have been so very disagreeable, that you can't rest, till I am satisfied, and feel quite happy at my leaving you.

Lord B. I do, upon my honour, and---(pointing to the door.)

Mod. My Lord, I'm yours---and I've no fear that you'll forget your promise; but if you do, there's no harm done --we'll only have another merry meeting, and part as we do now, delighting and delighted!

Lord B. We will, we will.

[Exit Modern. (Immediately Cicely appears at the door.)

Lord B. And now for more delighting---(turns

and sees Cicely.)

Cicely. (Advances towards him.) My Lord!

Lord B.

Madam!

Cicely. I've heard what's past; and, as I guess, your good old servant has'n't yet explained that I came here for shelter, and for safety,--but still I have no fear---with confidence I throw myself upon your Lordship's generosity, convinced you will extend to me that kind, obliging-.

Lord B. Madam, I'm not obliging---I'm cross--ill-natured---and I'll not only thank you to think so

yourself,

yourself, but to go and tell every body else so.--Go, madam.—

Cicely. What! I'm despised---deserted---(kneeling) My Lord, you see before you a poor, persecuted girl, wronged, but still innocent! who has eloped, not only to protect herself, but to preserve the happiness of others! Return, I cannot---ne'er will I involve the virtuous with the guilty.---And you, who are so famed for purity and honour, must feel delighted to support my just, but irksome, resolution.

Lord B. I do not.---I feel delighted to support nobody.

Cicely. I ask not an asylum here, it is too near the scene that I have shunned.---I only ask that you'll fulfil those hopes your kind domestic has excited. Your London mansion ---let me be sheltered there and life will be too short to pay my debt of gratitude and love!

Lord B. (Turning away) Psha! you, and this busy old Deborah--

Cicely. (Pulling him towards her) Nay,---in your service,---by another name,---I never shall be traced---and you !---suspicion cannot light on you!-Or, if, by chance it should, I'll beg, starve, perish, ere I'll bring disgrace on my exalted, kind, protector (Holding him by the hand, and kissing it.)

Enter GEOFFERY.

Geoff Mr. Solace, my lord---Oh, ho!

[Exit.

(Cicely starts up, and in her agitation, drops her shawl, without perceiving it.)

Lord B. Confound the whole eternal scene! Stop---come back.

Re-enter

Re-enter GEOFFERY.

One plague I'll instantly get rid of---Madam, I grant what you require.---My name will be your passport---and you, sir, conduct this female through the private path that leads into the London road--and, (Cicely runs to thank him) nay, nay, your gratitude when next we meet—and that, I'll warrant, won't be soon.---Go, don't stand staring, blockhead! Quick! (stamping) Begone!

[Geoffery, all fright and astonishment, exit with

Cicely.

So, since locks won't serve, I'll try if strength will keep them out.---Colossus-like, F'll stand against the doot.

Enter SOLACE.

Sol. My Lord, I do hope no offence; but your servant not coming to shew me up, I have taken the liberty to shew myself up---and I don't see him---where be he, my Lord?

Lord B. What's that to you?---and who the

devil are you?

Sol. My name be Solace, and I do come, for your Lordship to make me, what you seem to be yourself---quite vexed and unhappy like.

Lord B. Sir Arthur's foreman! Sit down---I'll instantly make you unhappy.

Sol. Thank thee; but there be no hurry; if it were any thing pleasant, the sooner the better; but to be told that one be thus misused by those that I did love, and cherish as my own children--dang it ;---if I could think, as Mr. Modern thinks,--what charming consolation!

Lord B. Why, what does Mr. Modern think, Sir?

Sol.

Sol. Why, I did just now meet him, and, saving your presence, he do think that, like some other London lordly folk, you be, at heart, quite gay and sly, and not to be depended on! But 1, alack! know better---and, therefore, only let your lordship take your time,---for I sha'n't instantly be made unhappy.

Lord B. Very likely; but when I prove St. Albyn's falsehood, will you accept my nephew as. your master?

Sol. Now---this moment I will do justice to Sir Arthur and your nephew---for, lest the memory of past affections should some time hence incline me to relapse, look---(shewing an agreement) this deed, once signed by me, do give a stranger that control which, 'twere the object of my life, that none but a St. Albyn should inherit, but that be past---yet, no---it be not past.---The proof! the proof!

Lord B. What brought him, every autumn, to your cottage? What has so long detained him from his wife? Why was he caught in base, clandestine, meetings?---And if you doubt that Mrs. Dorville told me, upon the honour of an English peer--

Sol. No more,---I'll hear no more.---And all the consolation that I've left, be, that I've power to resent such villany!. I'll sign directly!---Give me the means.

Lord B. Here! (pointing to the table.)

Sol. Now for my own, his wife's, his father's wrongs! (Going towards table, he treads on the shawl.) Why, what be here? part of a woman's dress! So---be'st thee, then, gay and sly?---And, now 1 look again---Heavens !---speak---who, who do this belong to?

Lord B. Who!---why to---curse me, if I know who any thing belongs to.

Sol. I know too well---it do belong to her, who, by your statement, be now with Algernon St. Albyn ---I know

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