SCENE I.—A Street.

YES, it bes, Harry.

No, I ſhan't bathe to-morrow.

Every morning relaxes, and we come down here to brace ourſelves up like drums, for the rattle of a London winter campaign;

My brother Harry!

Colin! what brought you here?

An if you go to that, what has brought you here?

I came here but yeſterday with my lady.

Oh, then you got a pleace? So did I the very day after we parted in London.

Why, that's lucky, the firſt week you ſet foot in town.

No, t'was quite misfortunate. My place was ſo badiſh, Meaſter was one of the ſhew.

What, an actor.

Yes, he acted your foreign Opera Plays, in Haymarket.

What! oh, zounds, ha, ha, ha, then, Colin, you was ſervant to an Opera finger?

Yes, that was it; he got a huge deal of money from our high gentry here in England; but to ſave it all, and bring it away with him, he ſtarved himſelf, and gave me nothing to eat: I'll be dom'd but he did, for his ſallads made me pick dandelion, and water creſſes out of the ditches; then he made maccoroni which be's juſt like our hard dumplings cut into long tobacco ſtoppers; then he made om⯑lets, and when he uſed to boil eggs wanted me to ſup the broth, a dom'd Italian ſon of a ſauſage, wanted to fatten me with egg broth, ſo I left him— oh, I left him.

Well, who do you live with? Some Suſſex Squire, Eh?

No, I bes ſervant to a deſperate voine lady! Miſs Melcomb, from Lancaſhire.

What!

ha! ha! ha! by hea⯑vens exceeding good!

Now your Miſtreſs's name, Harry?

Miſs Melcomb from Lancaſhire.—You impudent puppy, how dare you tell me you live with Miſs Melcomb, when I am certain, I'm the only man ſervant ſhe has at Brighton.

I ſay I'm her only man ſervant; and dom your impudence, brother Harry! a conceited fool! In his trowſers, ſtrutting about like a pair of com⯑paſſes.

Oh, ſure I've ſeen you before.

Yez, ſir, afore the chair, and behind the coach.

You live with Miſs Melcomb?

Now mind that Harry, —I do, ſir.

My belov'd here? oh, let me fly!—no, ſhe likes ceremony, my name firſt—

But I muſt go give our cook the Arundel mullets,

Eh, where's Miſs Melcomb's ſervant?

I'm here, ſir.

Then you too belong?—ſtep in with this card to your miſtreſs, and bring me back an anſwer; tell her you ſaw her dear Cypreſs, and that I look charming.

Never man had ſuch diſap⯑pointments! it's the buſineſs of my life to be kind to my old friends; to be ſure I hope they will leave me ſomething when they die, but no chance of that; here I ſuppoſe they fancy a puff of ſea air can reſtore their breath, and a mouthful of ſalt water pickle and preſerve them, and ecod its no fancy, Tom Nibble that I left in town with one foot in the grave, I met juſt now with two in a pair of boots. Dick Toothleſs that I left ſteep'd in bar⯑ley broth, I find at Hick's Tavern, peeping at me over a round of beef.—Lady Squab I parted, hid in a ſtuffed elbow chair, I met this morning gallopping over the downs, running a race with a ſtaff officer.

What, Mr. Cypreſs!

Mad Captain Clifford here!—eh he don't look well, I'll be civil,

how d'ye do a thouſand times, my dear, dear, ſir?

Never better, thank heaven! juſt got from our meſs; dem it, they drink ſo hard.

I ſee now he's freſh and florid, find every body I meet in barbarous health,

Oh, but [4]true, I muſt wait for an anſwer from the miſtreſs of my heart.

Ha! ha! ha! who is your goddeſs? Come, don't be aſham'd to tell! ha! ha! ha!

Sir, I boaſt of my love for Miſs Mel⯑comb, as her love to me is her greateſt glory!

Miſs Melcomb!—Can it be my Julia?

Yes; I'm the lad of her ſoul, I've ſent in my name; now you'll ſee her ardent deſire for me to ſend in myſelf.

Miſs Melcomb's not at Brighton?

Then that houſe is not in Brighton.

My love next door to me, and I not know it!

Well, you deliver'd my card to your miſtreſs?

Yes, ſir, but the ſays the knows no ſuch perſon.

What!

Not know the glorious lad of her ſoul,

ha! ha! ha!

I deſire, ſir, you'll—by my honor ſhe's the moſt—

Hold, ſir! Miſs Melcomb is a lady for whom I have the utmoſt veneration—

You!

Yes, I, and for proof I'll indulge you, and in your own way too, I'll ſend in my name.

Not know any ſuch gentleman.

Eh! but where's Miſs Melcomb's man?

Here I be, ſir.

Are you her ſervant?

Oh, yez, ſir, I bes her livery man.

And perhaps her common councilman.

Noa, ſir, I never durſt give her council, tho' I advis'd her ſometimes.—Will you walk in, old gentleman?

Old! raſcal!

Come, ſir, I won't hear even Miſs Melcomb's ſervant abus'd.

That's right, ſir, love me, love my dog.

Then carry that in your paw to your miſtreſs.

Now Mr. Cypreſs, I don't abſolutely boaſt I'm quite her glory! but perhaps ſhe won't deſire me to ſend in myſelf.

Sir, my lady ſays, ſhe doesn't know any thing about the perſon that wrote upon this.

Ha! ha! ha!

Impoſſible! by heavens ſhe is the moſt capricious!—I ſee her duplicity in this ſeeming denial to Cypreſs, Julia prefer a ſordid raſcal to me! hark'ye, you old raven! your hovering about for legacies is notorious, thro' almoſt every public place in England; you have been hooted out of the rooms at Bath, drove from the pantiles at Tun⯑bridge, and by heaven, I'll have you beat off the Steine at Brighton.

I beat! ha! ha! ha! well, I ſhould like to ſee that.

So ſhould I, ſir he! he! he!

Raſcal!

He! he! he!

I'll have this refuſal from Miſs Mel⯑comb's own lips.—No, I'll ſee her no more; but, dem me, I'll match you Mr. Cypreſs.

Colin! fetch my paraſol.

Oh! here is my perſidious Peggy.

Thoſe young gentlemen will keep fly⯑ing after one ſo, I'm glad I didn't bring my niece Julia here; no chance of admirers her flimſy beauty in the way.—What Mr. Cypreſs! I proteſt I'm glad to ſee, you!

Yes, ma'am; you'd be glad to ſee me at Pondicherry, ſo you were at the ſame time upon a Suſſex cliff, even from thence, madam, I ſhould behold you. Love is a monſtrous telegraphe: if you had any pity, you cou'd read without ſpectacles, that ſlighted paſſion is a piteous caſe.

What do you talk to me, ſir, of ſpec⯑tacle caſes?

Then, madam, I'll be round with you: you might have put on your barnacles, and an⯑ſwered my card.

Yours! my ſervant did bring me a card juſt now, but not from you.

Forgets even my name!

How provoking! here's ſome gentle⯑man has ſent his ſervant to watch me about.

Now for the library.—My miſtreſs ſhou'd have ſet down more than one number.

Didn't I give you a card for your lady?

Certainly, ſir.

And wasn't her anſwer that ſhe didn't know the writer?

Knew nothing at all about him, ſir.

There madam! Oh ſhame! that a lady can rend a man's honeſt heart, and then deny it to his miſerable face!

What, ſir, do you talk to me of cards to ladies; and, ſir, I can't help your miſerable face.

You can help, madam, my bleeding heart, that you yourſelf have given the fatal ſtab to!—But—I don't care twopence about her: I'll now ſcorn in my turn.

Sir, if I have attractions, am I to blame? I didn't make them.

Make! no, Miſs, you bought your lilies and roſes ready made; the maſter of the ceremonies at your toilet places them well enough Miſs, but if one was to ſee them in a morning, there's a caſt off, and change ſides, Miſs: ‘Where are the lilies? on the cheeks of my Phillis! where is the roſe? on her pretty little noſe!’

Barbarous, cruel man!

Nay now, Miſs Melcomb, my dear Peggy!

Sir, though I was chriſtened Margaret, I told you I was ſince confirmed Seraphina.—Sera⯑phina is my name!

Will you be Seraphina Cypreſs?

Colin, go to the library and aſk for the teleſcope I choſe on my fortunate raffle yeſterday. Any meſſages, you'll find me on the Steine.

My dear Peggy—

Sir, be aſſured Miſs Melcomb will never be Mrs. Cypreſs,

There's a coquet! All art, her denial to Captain Clifford. Gone to firſt with him on the Steine. How have I loſt her? Some diſguſt! Was it when ſhe pop'd in upon me t'other day whilſt I was ſhaving? She deſired me not to mind her, and like an aſs, on I went, up to the eyes in fuds, twiſſting my features into fifty ugly ſhapes before, her. When ſhe aſked me for her favourite air, like a fool I muſt play it on the german flute, and put my mouth into ſuch an uncomely ſhape: my attitudes were graceful tho'!

Love is gone! Come revenge! But how?

Pſhaw! peſter me with auction bills! and— Eh,

"Great rooms—Mr. Parrots—Give imitations—principal performers—ſawing a deal board—celebrated orator—two cats in a gutter— drawing a cork"—Oh, here's an occaſion for ample revenge on my perfidious Peggy! She has killed me, and I'll make her ridiculous! Oh, I'll have her among the cats and gutters!

SCENE II.—The Steine, before Gregory's library —A view of the ſea—Company walking, converſ⯑ing, &c— JULIA, and others reading,

I deſired my ſervant to call for the book. No matter: I'll take it myſelf.

Miſs Melcombe.

Eh, what Captain Clifford is this?

My dear Charles at Brighton! moſt certain!

Oh, here is Julia! Moſt obedient ma'am.

Ma'am—ſo cool! well then, your moſt obedient, ſir. Ah, I was once the lovelieſt creature in the world: waſn't I, Charles? Look in my face wretch: Is not there now ſomebody elſe more lovely?

Why, ma'am, you're very pleaſant.

Certainly; this is the place for pleaſure. But how long have you been at Brighton?

Long enough, madam, to receive proofs of what I never even ſuſpected.

Don't talk ſo loud; the people are all ſtaring at us.

Oh, madam, it's your ambition to be ſtared at, by young and old!

I was going to take a turn on the Cliff; come, give me your arm, and let's know what is this mighty buſineſs.

'Pon my honor, ma'am, this is exceed⯑ing well—my arm! then you are not afraid of meet⯑ing old Cypreſs?

Now bleſs your pretty little ſoul, Charles, who is old Cypreſs.

Oh, ma'am, that incomprehenſibility of ſurpriſe is abſurd: you firſt refuſed to admit Cypreſe, becauſe I was in the way; then, to ſoften him by a compleat triumph over me, you ſend me out word—

I ſend you out word; of what pray?

I want the telepope, that miſtreſs won with the dice-box.

Oh! I gave you a card for your lady: you brought out for anſwer that ſhe did'nt know me?

Yez ſir.

But what's all this to me?

Ma'am, you ſeem very careleſs about it; but I think it's very much to you; and Julia, all in all to me:

therefore, madam, I inſiſt—

Hold, ſir! you forget yourſelf: Such be⯑haviour in a public place?

But, Julia, ſure I have a right to de⯑mand an explanation.

Oh, my valiant Captain! To proceed in form: hadn't you beſt ſend me a challenge?—but you may take it for granted, ſir, whether in reſent⯑ment or affection, this is the laſt time I ſhall ever give you the meeting.

I'll flog Grogan! no, the good-natured people round have witneſs'd my inſulting a woman; they ſha'n't add to my diſgrace by ſeeing me beat an old man! Oh, Julia! at our tender parting did I think to meet you thus?

Eh! isn't this Mr.Parrots, the celebrated Iriſh mimick? Ha! ha! ha! A capital miſtake in talent his, attempts to imitate every character and dialect the moſt oppoſite; yet, with ſuch an invin⯑cible brogue, that when he fancies he ſpeaks or ſings a variety of voices, you can only think your⯑ſelf in a debating ſociety at Tipperary,

Waiter, prepare me a good breakfaſt of ſome tea and cakes; but if you can't get three new laid eggs, you may eat them all yourſelf.—Captain Clifford, how do you do, ſir?

Ha! Mr. Parrots, true I ſaw your bills for performance.

Yes, ſir, I'm come to give my imita⯑tions, and have hir'd a fine big room; but ſuch a buſhel of troubles—

I'm glad you're come Parrots, I wanted ſomething to laugh at, this place is very pleaſant, eh? the Steine, —and Downs, —and bathing, —

Bathing! oh a bleſſed affair happen'd to me, the very day I arriv'd, I was ſo afraid of nobody coming to hear me, that I was about to go back to London; ſo I took my place in the [13] machine, but inſtead of a ſtage coach, they put me into a wooden cloſet, and dragg'd me into the ſea: Hallo! ſays I, let me out! Off with your cloaths, ſays the fellow, and tumble out here headlong.

Ha! ha! ha!

Well, I thought I'd ſtay here a few days longer, if only to pick up, among their bathing ſhops, and raffling Machines, a new ſtock of origi⯑nals; and faith. I've been at them eves dropping about every where, why t'other night in the play⯑houſe, I had a Scotch preſbyterian calling to the muſic for God ſave the King! A French marquis bawling for Roaſt Beef! and an Iriſhman roaring for Rule Britannia!

Oh, you've him at your tongue's end.

Who, the Iriſhman? now there you're out: he has ſuch a devil of a brogue, that he's the only perſon there I cannot mimick neatly.

Ha! ha! ha! this offers ſomething for old Cypreſs.

Mr. Parrots, if you ſhou'dn't be encouraged here, equal to your merits, you may eaſily get money for your travelling ex⯑pences however.

Then how? my dear ſir!

Liſten.—A gentleman here had an old friend, whom he once inſulted groſsly: this friend hadn't ſpirit to reſent it himſeif, yet dying lately, carried his reſentment to his laſt breath, abſolutely in his will left a legacy of a hundred pounds, to any one that wou'd cane him on the open Steine. Now ſuppoſe you were to—

Beat a gentleman! you don't catch me at that Captain.

Why beſides touching the Caſh, you chaſtiſe an impudent little raſcal.

If I was to chaſtiſe all the impudent raſ⯑cals, I ſhou'd have five firſts for everyone of my ten fingers, thumbs and all.

Intereſt is not the ſtring, I muſt touch, the Hibernian's courage,

I don't think the legacy will ever be claim'd, tho' the money is a temptation, yet nobody hitherto has ventured to win it by ſtriking him, he's a remarkably ſtrong little fellow indeed, full of tricks with his ſtrength when he gets a bottle; twiſting pokers round his neck, battering pewter pots with his forehead, they talk here, (but I never believ'd it) that the cauſe of the eaſt cliffs falling, was his ſhoving in a drunken ſit one of the great guns off the battery: yes, yes it requires a deal of reſolution to—

Why, ſir, d'ye think I'm afraid? upon the Steine you ſay? any particular time mention'd in the will?

Eh, yonder is old Cypreſs,

when there's a good deal of company about; now, a propos, look, that's your man.

What that clergyman bowing to the la⯑dies? or the man in deep mourning laughing ſo hearty?

Pho, dem it, look there.

Oh the little ſquab lad in the bob wig and blue and ſilver coat. But, Captain, if I do win this legacy, who's to pay it me?

Zounds! what name! oh, —any,

eh, —one—one Captain Tomkins is the executor.

But where does he live?

Any body will tell you, look that's his houſe.

Very well.

Here's jack Daily, he'll be dragging me to the bottle,

Ha! ha! ha! hollo Clifford! by heavens you're a fine fellow to ſlip off ſo!

Pho, never mind me, there's a lady that I—

Zounds! meet a lady with ſuch a ſober ſtupid face, Dem it come along my boy!

"for Venus ne'er looks with a ſmile ſo divine!"

To get my bottle I muſt firſt touch the corks; he's here, a hundred pounds is a good thing; but beating him in cold blood—by my foul I'd rather get a threſhing myſelf (ſo that nobddy might know it) than ſtrike a man that has never done me any harm.—But a ſtick is neceſſary.

I'm burning for revenge on my cruel Peg, but no finding this Mr. Parrots the mimick— a deal of faſhion here this evening.

Oh is your lady on the Steine.

Walking in yon voine company.

She ſhall ſee what terms I'm on with people of condition

Sir Luke! we'll ſettle our bet at the rooms.

Lady Dim⯑ple I do you ride to Rottingdeane to-morrow? Our friend the Colonel promiſes a charming treat from the Dorſet band, on the level.

Yes, ſir, miſtreſs and I will be on the level.

Dick Coachman! Shall us tig a mug of Newhaven beer a: the white horſe?

Colin! Cou'dn't you draw your lady this way I tell her ſha'll ſee ſomething very pleaſant.

What, ſir, you wi child and tumbling blackamoor?

No make her look towards me.

I wull.

Then ſhe'll learn that I'm ſomebody for all her ſcorn.

I'll pay you for this little hag, but now take it out an airing upon trial,

Let's ſee what valetudinarian friends at Buxton.

I muſt get him more amongſt the com⯑pany,

ſir, hadn't you beſt take a walk?

Take a walk!

Yes, ſir, and I'll take another, and yet we'll both take the ſame walk.

Who is this man?

I'll make him affront me, and then it will be all his own doing.

Sir you needn't kick ſhelalah about, you and he will be better acquainted bye and bye.

I proteſt this is an odd perſon.

I don't like ſtriking a naked man; I wiſh he had ſome weapon,

Sir, how d'ye like this colt? becauſe, ſir, if you'd ſtep and take a ſilly out of the ſame paddock yonder, they'd breed charming.

Breed what?

They'd breed a quarrel!

I do not like this man.

How ſhall I rouze him!

When that paper's out of hand, ſir, I'll thank you for it;

I'm obliged to you, ſir.

It's now out of hand indeed.

Sir I ſay that's falſe, for now it's in hand, and yet I'll read it out of hand—

On Saturday died."—

Lord, ſir, juſt let me look at the deaths!

Takes an affront like mull'd claret, then I'll beat him without any ceremony for the meanneſs of his ſpirit!

Look ye, ſir? as to battering pewter pots againſt men's foreheads, and making cravats of their kitchen pokers, that's all to me a meer dog's whiſtle!

Sir!

I never attempted to throw a cannon over a cliff like others!

Didn't you, Sir? I beg pardon, I thought you did, —Gad this is an odd fellow! ha! ha! ha!

Harkye, ſir, I wiſh to avoid ſtrife, and ſo—if you'll only tell the executor I did it, I'll not do it at all.

Then, ſir, you, may let it alone, what the devil's all this he's talking about, I'll do, and you'll not do.

Oh but I will if you go to that, ſblood! and thunder ſir! why don't you put me into a fury as you did the dead man? but what did you do to make the dying ſoul leave you ſuch a token of affection?

Who! what! has any deceaſed friend?—

Ay you're left the truth of a thumping legacy!

Indeed! where am I to receive it, my dear ſir!

Why here.

Here! when?

Now.

Who's to pay me it?

I.

I told my lady ſir, and ſhe and company are all looking.

The executor may want a witneſs—

Witneſs! why, my dear ſir, won't my receipt do? Come we'll get pens, ink, and ſtamp in the ſhop.

No, leaving a mark will do for this,— you ſtand there, and obſerve what paſſes.

Tell your lady what marks of affec⯑tion I receive from others. Now I'm ready to take it.

And I to give it.—

Murder! help!

There I've tried the poney—

Now to tell the Captain, and then for a touch at the executor!

Oh heavens! oh my back!

Then this is the joke they're to ſee, —he! he! he! how my lady laughs, all the gentle⯑folks be's laughing at you! he! he! he! he! what a happy man you be, to make people ſo merry! he! he! he!

Merry, you dem'd Villain, yes I'm very happy, publickly diſgrac'd! Miſs Melcomb may indeed now deſpiſe me, I myſelf to draw her at⯑tention and be curſt to me, I'll write to her,— Explain what I don't underſtand, I'll go—oh isn't this my old landlady!

Eh, [20]now, good dame, where are you gadding, and no⯑body at home to light me a candle?

Ah, Mr, Cypreſs, I wiſh I could afford to keep a maid, but lawk one muſt call in upon one's neighbours to ſee whether they're dead or alive.

What then you're a legacy hunter? you ſelfiſh creature! I ſay return home and light my candles!

Ah, ſir, take a couple of turns more on the Steine, for the ſea air is ſo wholeſome for you phthyſicy old gentlemen.

There's a ſcandalous goſſip! eh, ſhe's gone into the apothecary's ſhop, ſome hope of an old woman that goes into an apothecary's ſhop, I'll make her a preſent of a pair of fleecy hoſiery gam⯑badoes.

Oh here's the poney.

Boy, you ſtep home with me to ſtrike a light, and carry a letter to your lady.

Yes, ſir, he! he! he! you be more comi⯑cal than tumbling blackamoor.—How cleverly he managed the poney, here he went ſo! and then he went ſo!

Why you dam'd raſcal!

What will Peggy think of me, ſure ſhe won't have me after this public diſgrace, well if not, I'll ſtill purſue her; perhaps when ſhe dies ſhe may leave me ſomething in token of former friendſhip.

And Clifford lives next door to me?—I will not live next door to him—Harry—You muſt look out other lodgings, —Then this was the cauſe of his behaviour to me!—ah! fye! fye! [22] men are all baſe, and venal. (aſide.) How long has your brother and his miſtreſs been here?

But a few days, ma'am.

And Captain Clifford you ſay ſent in a tender meſſage to my aunt?—that is your brother Colin's Lady—the other Miſs Melcomb?

Moſt certainly, ma'am —I didn't know your ladyſhip had an aunt; they ſay ſhe's very rich? but that to he ſure you know.

And that ſhe is very rich my falſe Clif⯑ford to be ſure knows, —But dear he need not be vain of his conqueſt, for my venerable aunt throws out her lure for every bird that flies! he fancies it is his fine perſon that has caught her, but I'll convince him, that with all his grace, and accompliſhments and ſweet voice, he may be ſupplanted by the firſt inſignificant, dangling cox⯑comb, that chuſes to pay her any attention,

Harry you're acquainted with ſome of the officers' ſervants?

Oh yes, madam—very genteel valets.

Then if you know any very genteel valet—that has a very ſmart little maſter—whoſe regimentals would fit me—

Madam!—

Borrow them—ha, ha, ha!—I think I ſhall make a ſmart Brighton Officer! I can dance—ſport my uniform on the Steine—chatter at the libraries—ſhew the ladies my neat marquee— then at our camp and review,

SCENE III. —Moon light. Cliff before CYPRESS'S houſe—Enter CAPTAIN CLIFFORD, Celevated with Wine, ſinging.

What's company, wine, mirth, with⯑out love! women ſhould be indulged in their little caprices and pets, ſince man cannot exiſt with⯑out their charming ſmiles. I'll call on my divine Julia, throw myſelf at her feet, and aſk her pardon.

Ecod I'll wait on him no longer, my lady will want me, and this old rogue will give me nothing.

Julia's ſervant! where have?—who lives here?

Mr. Cypreſs, ſir.

Zounds! totally forgot—I wonder if Parrots performed the exploit! Dem that 'tother bottle! loſt all the fun by it, —what you're come with a letter?

No, ſir, I ſtay to take one, his old landlady be's not yet com'd home, ſo ſtingy won't keep a maid—ſo Mr. Cypreſs bid me watch door.

Well, I want to aſk him a queſtion.

Noa, ſir, he bid me not let any one diſturb him whilſt he's writing love—

Is that he up there?

Yes; Sir, he ſleep's in a Garret for the good air over the hills.

Go home, your lady wants you.

Does ſhe? good bye, ſir.

Why the devil did you ſhut the door?

That nobody might go in, till old woman comes back.

Dem the old woman!

How fine theſe officers talk, dem the old woman!

Julia's diſſimulation, carrying on a correſpondence—Cypreſs has the name of money, can ſhe be ſo baſe! you're compoſing your love⯑letter? then I'll diſcompoſe.—

—I don't think he can know me.

Colin! why don't you go to the door?

I'll teaze, but dem it what ſhall I ſay!

Where is this clown run to?

Pray, ſir, does Captain Tomkins liye here?

No, Sir.

Aſk pardon, ſir, any where in this neighbourhood, ſir?

'Pon my word, ſir, I'm but a ſtranger myſelf.

Good night; ſir, —ſorry—give you— much trouble.

Oh, ſir, no trouble, good night, ſir.

Ay, trot up,

ſeated?

yes—

—ay, now trot down again. I hope he won't let his candle fall, for I like to con⯑template his delectable phiz—

—Pray, ſir, does Captain Tomkins live here?

No, ſir, Captain Tomkins does not live here, eh! why, ſir, you are the gentleman aſked this inſtant!

Bleſs my ſoul! the ſame door indeed! ſir, I aſk pardon.

Oh, ſir, no offence, —plague what keeps the old woman!

Sir I wiſh you good night.

Oh, ſir, good night to you.

Up we trot again, —ſet to our love-letter? Eh, I believe he has taken his pen and ink-horn into ſome other room, —oh no! there ſits old amorous Ovid, —

—Oh we trot down a little faſter.

demme I believe he's tumbled down—

—Pray, ſir, does Captain Tomkins live here?

Why what the devil, ſir, I told you twice no Captain Tomkins lived here.

I beg pardon, ſir, ſorry to give ſo much trouble.

Sir, really I don't underſtand what you mean—

Sir your moſt obedient, I wiſh you good night.

Well, ſir, good night.—

Oh, ſir, you ſeem to have loſt one of your ſlippers.

Curſe it all!

Pray, ſir, don't ſtay out in the cold,— you'll have a ſore throat.—

—Oh but, ſir, can you tell me where Captain Tomkins lives?

Damn it! Inquire at the publick houſes.

Pray, ſir, which is the publick houſe?

Hell and ſury, I don't know!

Sir, I aſk pardan,— moſt obedient, good night, ſir.

This old devil to take the key of my parlour, but I'll quit her lodgings to morrow! damn me! I'll come down no more if the houſe is on fire!

Letter ſays number twelve.—

I'll come down no more! Get away you raſcal!

I've a letter for Mr. Cypreſs.

A letter, oh.

Get away you raſcal!—don't care, the lady ſhall pay me for bringing it.

Unlucky, Captain Clifford and his jolly party broke up, but where does the executor live? the captain pointed this way, ſo ſince I'm on the ſpot, I may as well try to find it out to night, that I may be ſure of knowing it in the morning, oh this is it.—

Pray, ſir, does Captain Tomkins live here?

SCENE I.—Tilt's coffee-room.

I'll got leave of abſence, quit Brighton, and ſee Julia no more.

Ah, ſir, what did you run ſuch a hum upon me? firſt make me beat a man, then aſk him⯑ſelf for the reward?

What do you mean?

Mean! why Captain Tomkins is the gentleman I threſ'd, and not the executor! laft night I knock'd at the houſe, and I thought he'a have knock'd the door and myſelf into the window the other ſide the way.

Why zounds Parrots did you inquire? ha! ha! ha!

Pho, none of your laughing, ſir, tell me where the executor lives that I may get in the mo⯑ney, and out of the town, as he may be for bringing me before a juſtice.

Ha! ha! ha! and he opened the door in a red night-cap? ha! ha! ha!

Yes he did, but never mind his red night-cap now.

With a candle in his hand? ha! ha! ha!

Oh the devil burn your candle, ſir, what a laughing you keep!

And you aſked, "pray, ſir, does Cap⯑tain Tomkins live here?" ha! ha! ha!

Yes, I did.

Ha! ha! ha! let's ſee, the captain is one executor, but you certainly went to the wrong houſe.

Well right or wrong, I'll go no more to Captain Tomkins, if there are two executors who is the other?

It's Mr—Come with me, and I'll ſhew you, ha! ha! ha!

Oh, ſir, if you keep grinning I won't go with you! 'pon my honor.

Now I'm ſerious, ha! ha! ha!

SCENE II.—CYPRESS'S lodgings.

Pay two guineas a week here and an old beldam keep no maid! Oblige me to open doors, and get myſelf inſulted by all the raff in the ſtreer. I'll directly for town—pack up my cloaths—

Yes, ſir, it's all along of you!

Colin! what's the matter?

You wou'd bring me away laſt night tod⯑ling [29] after you, and while I was out miſtreſs was in a worry to ſend me with a letter.

Ay to Captain Clifford I warrant, I'm glad I didn't ſend my letter to her.—well?

And ſo when I com'd hoame, Colin, ſays ſhe, you're an honeſt creature and the beſt zar⯑vant that ever flouriſed a flambeau, but I diſcharge you for an idle vagabond. I've loſt my place on your account, and if you've any conſcience you'll get me another or take me yourſelf.

This fellow will tell me all her ſecrets.

I'm now an honeſt mon out of bread, bread bes the ſtaff of life, and without it I ſhall tumble down, as you wou'd was I to trip you up.

Damn your illuſtrations you dog!—but his coming is a propos, to prepare and attend me on my journey—I fear you're a ſad fellow—

Yes, ſir, I bes ſad out of pleace, hire me, and I'll be a merry fellow.

But living with a lady has ſpoil'd you.

But I have liv'd with a gentelman who was ſometimes a prince! ſometimes a Roman duke!

Did he keep a coach?

No, ſir, he was an Italian, ſo the Engliſh nobility kept a coach for him, ſir. My maſter ſung in the Haymarket, he told me, ſir, he uſed to ſing for the Pope; ecod, he was a comical fellow, they call'd him the firſt Buffalo.

Well, I'll try you—ſtep to the caſtle Inn, deſire them to ſend me a poſt chaiſe about eleven; tell the maſter I'd join for part, if he knows any infirm old lady or gentleman, becauſe on a journey I'm very tender of the ſick.

So am I, ſir, 'twou'd do your heart good to get ſick only to ſee how careful I'd nurſe you— law, I had it of feyher and mother; an old friend, (that they didn't care two—pence about, only hoped he'd leave them ſomething when he kicked,) was woundy ill in our ſtreet; mother uſed to make him nice barley-broths—and wi little puddings;—ecod, ſhe once ſent him a roaſt chicken, and would you think it, after all, he ſlip'd up to heaven with⯑out leaving them a marvadee!

That was a bilk! to heaven! no, he ſlip'd down to t'other place, for his damn'd ingratitude!

Then, ſir, when you are ſick, I'll take ſuch care of you, that the ſooner you go up to heaven, ard leave me ſomething—the better for us both; 'twill be ſo unexpected you know,

Hem?mdash;where are you going?

To bid them have chay at twelve.

There, wrong already, I ſaid eleven; when I give you a meſſage always repeat my words exactly.

I woll; but, ſir, old landlady's gone out again, and a lady inquir'd for you as I com'd in.

Oh, 'tis lady Squab; true, I promiſed to ride with her to Rottingdeane—plague on't I've no humour for parties of pleaſure.

She be ſitting in parlour great chair.

Weil, there let her ſit, and when ſhe's tired ſhe may walk off.

(

) Lady Squab! ſit in big chair, and when you're tired, walk off!

S'death and fury!

Wasn't that ſpeaking your words exactly?

Never bawl out ſo!

That's Tom Nibble, don't ſay I'm at home.

I won't.

My brains boiling from Seraphina's falſe⯑hood, and teaz'd by a parcel of people galloping in upon me, all in impudent rude health too, no ſpecu⯑lation of advantage from their death.

Sir, I told Mr. Nibble; he bes in the next room, writing a card to leave.

What do you ſay? I hate whiſpering.

Zur! I told the gentleman you wan't at home, as you deſired me.

The devil's in the fellow's bawling!

Why, law, ſir, a poor ſervant don't know when to tell lies and when to tell truth.

Tell lies to all the world, but truth to your maſter. Colin, I think your miſtreſs will re⯑pent loſing me; ſhe fancies her Captain Clifford a very charming object in his blue ſleev'd waiſtcoat, and his braſs cap and feathers, and ſword—when I'm dreſs'd! eh, Colin?

Yes, ſir, you've the advantage of the captain, he looks handſome in his regimentals, but you're ugly always.

What, ſirrah?

Tell truth to my maſter! beſides, ſir, every body that ſaw you threſh'd on the Steine, ſays you're ſuch a deſperate coward.

What! I muſt retrieve my character,

right; I'll ſend that Iriſh fel⯑low a challenge; bring me a light.

I don't know who the ſcoundrel is, or Where he is to be found, but Colin will ſpread the [34] report through Brighton that I did challenge him, which will anſwer the ſame purpoſe.

Ugly always!

How dare you ſay, and even repeat ſuch a thing to me?

Tell truth to my maſter.

Truth, hem! yes, my lad; but diſcre⯑tion bids us not to be over ready with our tongues; think three times before you ſpeak once,

You muſt find out that gentleman that affronted me yeſterday on the Steine, and bear him this my mortal challenge.

Yez, ſir, —I think once, I think twice, I think three times, —your wig's on fire!

Get away from me you raſcal!

I take ſuch a fellow?—burn my wig!—my challenge all blotted too!

Don't trouble yourſelf, ſir; here comes the very gentleman, ſo you may deliver it yourſelf.

I will.

oh, lord! I'm going to London; help me with my luggage, ſirrah.

Well, as the captain has ſent me now to the right executor, he has made amends for all his capers.—Oh! lucky, ſtop boy, as you ſaw me trim the old man yeſterday you muſt ſtay, and be my voucher that I did it; there's, half-a-crown for your gentility—oh, the gentleman, I preſume; good morning to you, ſir; according to the will, I beat the old man yeſterday, and if you don't believe it, here's a witneſs.

Eh!

Oh! ſir, he'll believe it without my oath.

Boy, return me that half-crown.

If you're come to renew your barbariſm, I'll bawl murder out of the window, you villain.

I'm had again!—I might expect this, when the captain got upon his red night caps—I find now he has brought me to the ſame houſe, only it looks into another ſtreet.—

Begone!

Sir, are you Mr. Cypreſs, or Captain Tomkins, or the executor, or the dead man, or the legatee, adminiſtrator, or teſtator? In the devil's name, who are you? I have earn'd the legacy, and will have it.

What legacy?

The hundred pound!

Are you dreaming? Who told you of this hundred pound?

Why, faith, a queer kind of genius enough ſet me on, —but, do you know one Capt. Clifford?

Capt. Clifford! I ſee it, a concerted plan between him and Miſs Melcomb.

You've been impoſed on.

Why, I ſuſpect there has been ſome hum; but no harm done; I wiſh you good morn⯑ing.

Sir, there has been a deal of harm, and I'll have juſtice.

Be eaſy, you look like a kind hearted gentleman.

Zounds! who are you?

Sir, I'm a gentleman without an eſtate, tho' I'm an elder brother, as my father had no ſon [36] but myſelf, ſo I'm oblig'd to live upon ſecond⯑hand voices; ſince there's no legacy, I muſt exhibit my imitations in the big room,

Sir, my bill, I hope you'll honour it.

The devil, are you Mr. Parrot's, the Mimic? Very lucky you are, for I intended to have kill'd you.

I'faith that wou'd have been a new thing to me.

The very man I wiſh'd to ſee.

I thought ſo, ſir, therefore introduced myſelf to you.

What, with your oak ſapling, you wicked fellow? however, I forgive all; I'll ſtart you a character to mimic, the moſt whimſical lady!

But is ſhe well known?—a great bird?

Who? Miſs Melcomb! the feather of the faſhion.—Oh! ſhe once lov'd me.

And ſhe doesn't now? well, ſecond thoughts are beſt.My dear ſir introduce me to her.

She won't let me introduce myſelf.

But I muſt hear her actions, and ſee her talk, or how die devil can I mimic her?

Yes, ſir, very airy.

This curſed old woman, dancing the people in upon me to ſee die lodgings.

Ay, ſir, you'll not find more pleaſant lodgings in the town.

Oh; ſomebody here

dem it, madam, band-boxes! not room to whip a cat—

don't let me diſturb any body.—Eh! ſure the [37]old blade that ſent the card to my lady this morn⯑ing.

Peggy's other ſervant!

A very ſaucy conceited gentleman this.;

No object in the proſpect.

Now, ſir, you've a capital object, how d'ye like it.

Dem me, ſir!—well, ma'am, if I don't ſee any thing more to my fancy, I ſhall call again.

His miſtreſs ſend him to look for lodg⯑ings in this houſe! then ſhe can't know I live here.

That was Miſs Melcomb's ſervant, run after him, he'll put you in the way of ſeeing his lady, who, if you can by your mimicking make a ridiculous laughing ſtock—

But you muſt bring me a great deal of company, —fill my rooms, with an overflow.

Yes, yes—and forgive you all.

Thanky', ſir, but if I offend a man, till I make him reparation I can't forgive myſelf, therefore I muſt aſk your pardon in;reſence of all the people that ſaw me wrong you.

What repeated! I deſire it may end here.

I'll make ample atonement, for I'll ſay, ſir, I'm ſorry I ſtigmatiz'd you by beating your fine old back about, with my dirty little bit of a ſtick.

Zounds! this will be more diſgrace than the thing itſelf.

The Steine is now full, come, ſir.

What the devil, ſir! I'll not go!

Do you think I've nothing to do but to threſh you, then deny me an occaſion to rub off as I go? Come,—

Damnation, ſir! I do forgive you.

What here in a cloſet? Your nan ac⯑ceptance of my conception; is a demand of ſatis⯑faction, that's my inference.

Confound your infernal inference and impudence.

Only walk with me up the Steine, before the pavilion, on the parade—and I will, in the hear⯑ing of them all—

Get out of my houſe.

Have a care, or before I clear off one flogging, you'll make me give you another why, I believe I muſt keep a tally to ſcore down all the apologies I have to make you.

Well, ir, I attend you.

No, ſir, I'll wait oh you.

Curſe your poſiteneſs.

SCENE III.—Pavilion, Parade.

Company converſing, walking, &c. Carriages, borſes, croud, tents, ſentinels, &c. Military band; first, wind inſtruments, plaintive Scotch air; then drums and fifes—quick Irish tune.

I think I've paſt, hitherto, quite, officer-like:—now for'a loving attack upon my aunt Mar⯑garet.— From, the time ſhe came out, ſhe ſhould be here by this.

When I thought he was coming out of the ſtreet door with me, to run back and lock him⯑ſelf up in his garret! Captain Clifford told me he Was as ſtrong as a camel! Oh, here's Miſs Mel⯑comb's ſaucy footman.

Madam!—Well, ma'am, I've ſeen vari⯑ety of lodgings.

Huſh! how indiſcreet.

Madam!—I'm ſure he did ſay madam. Oh, oh! then this muſt be the lady Cypreſs deſired me to mimick, Such a beautiful creature love [40] him! may be ſo, as the F's fat, fair, and forty was all the toaſt of the young men.—Who knows but the S's ſhriveled, fallow, and ſixty may be the rage of the young women.

If Clifford quits Brighton, and carries my aunt off with him, I ſhall have no occaſion to change.

This Iriſh muſic is very fine.—Pray, ſir, how do you like Planxty Connor?

I don't know any ſuch perſon.

Perſon! why, ſir, its—'Pon my ſoul ſhe is a pretty little fellow!—Dreſt herſelf up for ſome frolick I ſuppoſe.—When a lady is inclin'd for fun, a gentleman ſhould take half the buſineſs on himſelf.

I muſt brazen it out.

Sir, you ſpoke to me.—Any buſineſis?

Why, ſir, I have no objection, ſir.

Over a bottle?

Ay, ſir, any way, ſir! that's a pretty cap upon your head; isn't it heavy? doesn't it hurt your forehead?

This.

Oh, no; I'm uſed to wearing a cap.

Hem! I believe you are indeed.

that's a fine big ſword: who tied you to it?

What, ſir!

ſir, my ſword is tied to me.

It it, ſir?—Oh, ſhe is a lovely little ſoul; but can ſhe think of ſuch an old crab as Cy⯑preſs! however, as he'll pay me for mimicking her, I'll do it;—and now to catch her manner.

My captain! I dare ſay to meet my aunt, for yonder ſhe trips:—I muſt keep up my character though.

But, ſir, the aforeſaid bottle.

Ay, ſir, I'm for a bottle and its con⯑comitants.

Julia take lodgings in the very houſe with Cypreſs!

Oh, Captain, are not you aſhamed of yourſelf?

Parrots! what are you at here?

My buſineſs!—I.'m come to mimic Miſs Melcomb.

What!—unkind as ſhe is, I can't ſuffer this.

Harkye, Mr. Parrots, we ſhall quar⯑rel if you turn your talents of mimickrv to any freedom with that lady.

You have turned your talents of hum to a great deal of freedom with me.—I've play'd enough; I muſt now work a little.

Oh, here is my aunt Margaret.

A deviliſh fine woman, 'pon my ſoul

"Deviliſh fine woman, 'pon my ſoul."

What little martinet have we here?"

"What little martinet have we here?"

To the right about!

"To the right about!"

Zounds, ſir! you've confuſed me ſo, I don't know whoſe voice I'm catching at; if it's the lady's, or the ſerjeant's, or yourſelf, or myſelf.

Parrots, who is that puppy?

Oh, he's a very great admirer of one Miſs Melcomb.

Indeed!

M. A very impudent young man!

Oh, you are gready affronted.

I think 1 look better liſtening to the muſic on horſeback, beating time with my little whip. Eh, isn't that my lord? Title is charming! the privilege of dreſſing as one pleaſes, (no matter how) it's ſoon follow'd becauſe worn by 'the Du⯑cheſs! talk loud in the libraries! politics, a bold manly voice, ſtagger about, have a finical dangling church beau ſnuffling and flammering, "Yes, mad⯑dam, juſt the opinion of Monteſquieu, your grace." Then I look round, to ſee the ſmall gentry's embar⯑aſſment—As I canter by their parlour windows, make a full ſtop, up with my glaſs, then hey, gallop off, turn full front like a gallant officer!

Faith I thiink ſhe throws a bit of an ogle upon me—I'll give her a little touch of one of [43]my die aways—hiegho!

That gentleman ſeems to admire, what timid baſhfulneſs, —only ſteals a glance.

One may gueſs what's the matter with this dowager, how ſhe's bridling, and purring about, like an old tabby cat.

Seems deeply ſmitten.

The devil (ſhe'll ſtretch her neck off her head! heavens! how ſhe rolls her twinklers, now ſhe ſhuts them, there's a ſmile looping the corners of her mouth to the guſſet of her eyes. Faith I believe it's for me; we are making ſwans and pea⯑cocks of ourſelves; this may be a ſhorter cut to the caſh than my imitations, I'll ſay ſomething comi⯑cal and witty to her—

Pray, ma'am, what's a'clock?

Sir, I'm paſt two.

Yes, madam, you are paſt two—and, forty

Lord, madam, how fond you young ladies are of walking up and down.

I wiſh I hadn't been ſo haſty in diſ⯑charging that ſimple fool Colin, I already feel the inconvenience of being without a ſervant.

Speak your commands, madam; ſhall I order your carriage? is that it! with ſhoulder knotſ on the horſes heads?

No, ſir, but it's an handſome equipage.

That's the reaſon, madam, I thought it was yours, for when one is handſome themſelves it gives a beauty to every thing that belongs to them. I'm ambitious madam to be your's, for at preſent I'm but an ordinary fellow.

Be mine, ſir.! what do you mean?

Faith, I believe I was too quick to the point there.

Madam, I meant—no meaning at all.

A very polite man indeed.

Oh, ſir, when a tender idea comes in the ſhape of a compliment, 'tis an over-delicate modeſty to be aſham'd of revealing it.

Yes, madam, modeſty is the fault of all my countrymen. Mine had like to have been the death of me; laſt week a great muſician, no faith he was a phyſician, ordered me—ſaying, "Mr. Parrots you ſhou'd go into the hot-bath." So I went ma'am, and I ſaw two doors cloſe together, by my ſoul I was ſo modeſt that I didn't aſk the man which was which, ſo opening one, inſtead of the hot, I plung'd over head and ears into the cold bath. Oh, the ſhock was ſuch a devil of a ſurprize!

Ha! ha! ha? I proteſt, ſir, juſt ſuch an error was made—

Wirh who pray, ma'am?

My lap-dog little Bluff! but I ſent the dear creature to the cold, and the man ſlung him into the hot bath.

The ſame miſtake as mine, only 'twas quite the reverſe; what was the matter with the pret⯑ty little ſoul?

What ſoul, ſir?

Your lap dog, madam!

Oh the dear little animal, quite in the gaitedu coeur, was friſking about to amuſe me, jump⯑ing up to catch flies, unfortunately ſwallowed one.

Swallow a live fly, ma'am! You ſhoul'd have made him ſwallow a ſpider to deſtroy it.

And pray, ſir, what ſhou'd I have ſent after the ſpider?

There, madam, ends my ſkill as a glaſs [45]blower; however I'll illuſtrate it by example, ſup⯑poſe a poor debtor was flying from his country in a ſhip—my caſe,

the ſhip is caſt away, and the debtor's ſwallowed by a whale, —not my caſe—

then I'd ſend an attorney after him.

Very pleaſant, —but then what wou'd you ſend after him?

Belzebub himſelf! oh I warrant the devil would bring up the attorney, as ſure as a pair of nutcrackers!

No pleaſing that beggarly four crab, I wiſh my lady wou'd forgive me; oh here ſhe is, and that Iriſh buck ſmirking at her: now or ne⯑ver's my time to catch her in a good humour,

do, my lady, pray take me again into your ſervice; kind ſir! put in a good word for me.

I will; madam, if the poor devil has had the misfortune to offend you, I'll anſwer he'll never repeat it, and the next time he does, caſhier him, without bail or main-prize.

If Mr. Cypreſs gets me to neglect you again, this gentleman, my friend, here, ſhall lay two ponies on his back, like a pair of drumſticks.

Well, mind your buſineſs in future.

Yes, ma'am

porter brought back letter laſt night from Mr. Cypreſs, 'tis on your toilet, ma'am.

Don't talk to me of Mr. Cypreſs.—I can't bear thoſe ſtaring officers!—Colin, prepare the horſes, I'll ride towards the camp.

One way to avoid the officers.

No, it's like to rain—I'll take an airing in the ſociable.

Ma'am t'other day I and a friend went out in my ſociable, and we convers'd very jocoſe, at laſt we quarrelled about ſpelling of a finger poſt, and my friend pull'd my noſe in my ſociable, and I with one bother knock'd my friend out of his ſociable.—Madam, will you ſtep over to Mr. Jones's ſhop to hear him play on his Welth harp?

Permit me the honour, mem—mem, your hand.

The pretty little officer! oh ſy, ſir, d'ye think l'd admit ſuch liberties, ſir? I don't know what you mean, ſir! I'd have you to know, ſir! I'm not the perſon, ſir!

Oh mem—dear mem— pon my ſoul, mem—that is—ſir, your moſt: obedient

Well this is fine, after all my modeſty and politeneſs ſhe has walk'd off with the impudent little officer—hollo Dowager you're miſtaken in your man, I've heard of ſuch marriages; oh muſtn't let the fine old lady be deceiv'd; eh, iſn't that my friend the Rev. Dick Bellange, oh, oh! I'll talk to him.

SCENE IV.— The ſtreet before Miſs MELCOMBS' bouſes.

Stop, my lad!—but why ſhould I teaze myſelf, —what concern to me now where Julia goes!—yet to take lodgings in the very houſe with Cypreſs!—by heavens!—I will talk to her about it.

Sir, I did ſtop, what bes I to do now?

Where are you going?

I bes not going, —I ſtand ſtill!

Is your lady at home?

Noa, in the muſic ſhop, with a beautiful little officer.

Turned off old Cypreſs, and now got a beautiful little officer?

Good bye, ſir, 'tis as much as my pleace be worth, —not to moin'd my buſineſs now,—

Eh, but isn't it there your lady lives? the houſe next door to me?

I knows nought of what houſe wives next door to you, but Miſs Melcomb, my miſtreſs bides here.

Well I thought Julia liv'd—but no matter; I'll ſtop till ſhe comes in.

He ſays he'll ſtop, and then he jumps up ſtairs, and when I ſtop, he cries, "where be you going?" I'll be hanged if this young chap, be's not in love; ah when a mon's in love, he does'nt know which he ſhould put, his hat, or his pumps, on his head, or his heels.

My brother!—Ah Colin! how d'ye do? how d'ye do?

How yee do' how yee do?

'Pon my ſoul, my dear fellow, I languiſh'd for this rencontie' to interrogate you about this family, —you ſay you live with—

I bes as curious to know about the family you lives with.

Well, but we havn't time to talk over our own affairs now.—Pray did you ſee an Officer go in there?

What Captain Clifford? he be's juſt bruſhed into our houſe.

Oh! then you and your Miſs Melcombe live here? I and my Miſs Melcombe live here, next door to the Captain. I'm charged with an embaſſy to him from my lady.

Hold, —

—ſince my pleace is ſo uncertain, whilſt I'm in I ſhould make the moſt by perquiſites.—

—Your embaſſy is certain⯑ly about love, and when a gentleman receives a kind meſſage from a lady, he always well rewards the perſon that brings it, —ſo I'll be dom'd brother Harry, if you ſet noſe over threſhold, till you promiſe to give me half of whatever you get.

Ha I ha! well I will.

Oh, boy!

Meaſter Cypreſs! As I have got my pleace, I don't valy him an auld gooſeberry.

I may take a wrangling leave of Peggy however.—Did you beſpeak the chaiſe as I ordered you?

You order me! auld boſky Joe!

What d'ye mean, ſirrah?

I mean that there bes a deal of dirt in my livery coat, ſo I wiſh you'd put it on your kettle back, till I and my friend drum it out, old punm⯑plenoſe!

You ſcoundrel, an't you my ſervant?

Yes, ſir, I bes your moſt humble ſervant.

Ho! ho!

SCENE V. MISS MELCOMB'S dreſſing room.

Oh Miſs Melcomb's dreſſing room!— I'm impatient, yet dread to ſee her.—

—I don't like quarrels—life, where we eſteem, ſhould be a ſummer's day of ſweet com⯑placency. Eh! Julia's toilet ſeems odly fur⯑niſh'd! phials, and ſtuffs of lotion! Paregoric Elixir! lozenges, eh, books, prophecies! Buchan! novels, "female ſtability!"—Oh from this ſhe has ſtudied her new attachment for Cypreſs, the devil, ſhe does'nt paint? A wig! why ſhe ſeems chang'd in ſoul, mind, and perſon!—Yet her face to day retain'd all its native lovelineſs! Oh, here's her other ſervant.—Shall I queſtion him?—No, that's mean.

Sir, my lady has ſent me—

Oh then ſhe is not come home from the muſic ſhop?

Sir, ſhe's gone to take an airing towards Preſton; but ſends her compliments, and begs you'll not quit Brighton without ſeeing her.

Still think of me!—I may wrong her.—

—Very well, for your agreeable meſſage, here—

Dam that old codger to ſtop me! come in time though, —you're right ſir, brother Harry, deſerves a guinea.—Mind, I'm to have half.—I've ten ſhillings change, ready money.—

Oh, oh, —ſir, pardon me, but, if you think my meſſage deſerves a reward, pray let it be about a dozen—

Twelve?—Deuce of your impudence?

Smart, pretty, round, hard—kicks.

What's here—a letter for Cypreſs, treacherous Julia!

My lady!

Julia! A man's voice!—hum, —not a word of my being here, and I'll fairly divide the kicks and blows.

Yes, mem, the harp is delectable, but you have a fine voice, mem.

Oh, ſir, you have a fine taſte.

Yes, ma'am, and I've now and then the Voice of a humming bird, —ſinging convivial ſongs at our meſs, —has rather impaired—then we officers are obliged to give the word of command full and bold.

Oh, ſir, you military gentlemen are ſo terribly charming!

No, madam, it is I that am terrible, becauſe you are charming.—I tell you what, ſir, I thought you were harmleſs, but now I'm afraid of you, ſo quit this lady, except you can parry a bullet.

Oh, ſir, you ſhall ſee that—

Heaven's! I'm all terror! Sir, declare, what brought you on the Steine this morning?

To take off the lovely Miſs Melcomb.

Indeed! but not without my conſent?

I didn't know that was neceſſary when Mr. Cypreſs bid me —

He! then he wants to recede—an an⯑ſwer to my letter laſt night,—

—heaven's! tis my own ſent back unopened. Yet it will break his heart if I give my hand to another—

—he! he! he! then, ſir, you are determined to take me off?

You, madam! why, this fine Maccau thinks I mean to mimick her too! Yet, how ſmiling ſhe looks.—

Then, madam, to watch and catch you.—

—Oh, charming lady! I have you! my manner of taking you off, muſt give univerfal pleaſure.

But, ſir, conſider—don't let the ardour of your paſſion—

The ardour of my paſſion!

The attempt to run away with me would be ſo exceedingly romantic.

Then I'm to run away with her too! Oh, very well.—Tho' we had two meanings, we're both of one mind.—

—My lovely ſoul!—

Now, ſir, the ſurvivor take the lady.

Then I will take you my brave little lady.

Heaven's! diſcovered!

Come to me, yourſelf, big ſword and piſtols.—

Oh, this great man, will kill my pretty little officer!

Beyond all doubt, have I caught you.

Hem!—"Pray, ſir, does one Captain Tomkins live here?"—

Heavens!—

Peace!—I'll have you, my brave charmer!

What the devil are you about with my Peggy?

Oh, mercy! here are four gentlemen will fight—and perhaps all be kill'd for me—oh, what miſchief in our ſaſcinating ſex!

So, captain Clifford, you've ſet your heart on this lady?

ſir! I know nothing about that lady.

Really! and was it not to addreſs her that you quitted me—oh, lord!

You!

Why, certainly it is—

My Julia!

Ha, ha, ha! then ſince I have inadver⯑tently diſcovered myſelf—my dear aunt, how glad I am to ſee you.

My niece in this ſcandalous metamor⯑phoſes! go, you are a ſhame to your ſex;.

Faith, ſuch a pretty little fellow wou'd do honour to a hundred of our ſexes—How do you do, major?

Ha, ha, ha? come Julia, you muſt for⯑give me ha! ha! ha! I ſee now our odd miſtakes proceeded from—ha! ha!ha! I never once thought of your aunt!

Nor did I know the aunt had a neice.

Mr. Parrots, the parſon bes waiting up ſtairs to do the job you beſpoke him for.

What, ſir! have you brought a parſon into my houſe too?

Madam, he foretold he ſhou'd marry me to you; and the devil take him that makes a falſe prophet of a everend divine!

Fire and fury! a fine blunder you've made with your ſtupid mimickries—Peggy, ſure you won't—

Be quiet, or I'll aſk your pardon before the whole bleſſed bevy here.

Don't wait for legacies of dead men's ſhoes, but buy new pumps to dance at the four weddings of us two.

What ſays my lovely Julia? but let things go as they will, I'll give an entertainment at Tilts! and who knows but Cupid and Bacchus may light the torch of Hymen!

Yes, when my dowager gets a ſup in her eye, ſhe'll be able to ſee all my perfections double—and while the bottle goes round, my only imitations ſhall be to'take off my glaſs!