SCENE I.

LAURA has not appeared at the window yes⯑terday or to-day, and my word is paſſed not to call at the houſe till ſhe ſends to me—yet I cannot get under weigh till ſhe bids me farewell. Oh, confound it! here's Captain Vain. What damn'd ſhift of wind made him bring up on this coaſt? Now will this conceited fellow bother me for an hour or two about himſelf.

I ſee you, Cheerly. You can't hide your⯑ſelf from me. I'm one who ſee every thing in a [6]moment. You have heard what has happened to me ſince I went?

No, faith, I have not.

The moſt extraordinary thing. Always ſomething ſurprizing wherever I go. For my part I really think as to myſelf, that—But what are you at, Cheerly? What! attempting to ſpy into your neighbour's cabin! Juſt like me, egad! I've done that often in my time, tho' it's hardly fair play, between you and I.

Vain, you know a ſeaman cannot act unfairly; here is a little frigate in this harbour, of which I wou'd fain take the command honor⯑ably; but her old uncle thinks me too poor to hold the commiſſion.

Exactly me again. Egad! I had best give a little thought to your caſe myſelf.

I have told you where my anchor lies. Can you lend me a hand to purchaſe it?

Can I? I don't like to praiſe myſelf; but I am ſuch a deviliſh clever fellow; it is quite aſtoniſhing—I never turn my head to a project but it ſucceeds—Any thing, every thing—never miſs—I'am ſo clever. I'll tell you—What will you give me for releaſing this tender, conſenting girl from old Brummagem's clutches, and throw⯑ing her into your arms?

Give you!

Ay; what premium will you allow me on her fortune?

This is not a ſeaman's language—I don't underſtand you.

Why, look you, Cheerly, I love adven⯑tures—I have a genius for them, and ſuch a head at them, it's aſtoniſhing. But as this is a time of the world when a man is counted an aſs if he be not paid for every thing he does, I undertake them no longer as an amateur—I have done with that—but demand my fee regularly as a profeſſor.

Indeed!

I have adventured myſelf, in the ſervice of others, into eaſy circumſtances and genteel ac⯑quaintance: and if you will give me a hundred pounds, of which I happen to be juſt now damna⯑bly in want—

Hold, Vain—That's not quite ſo clever,—is it?

No; but that's ſo common a caſe with a genius—In ſhort, if you are inclined to pay, I'll put you in poſſeſſion of your Dulcinea.

Eh, but how? How will you carry your warps out, Maſter Vain?

You muſt not aſk that.—There lies my genius—I muſt manage it all myſelf—a genius muſt not be meddled with.

Well, but do you know old Brumma⯑gem?

Know him! a fellow full of lies and igno⯑rance, who values you only for the number of quarters in your ſcutcheon, tells you long ſtories of [8]tables and chairs having been in his family for a hundred years, which, in reality, he bought ſecond⯑hand yeſterday. It will be an abſolute charity in you to deliver a poor girl from ſuch a curmudgeon. And ſince you have engaged me in your ſervice, you have nothing to fear. I'm ſure to ſucceed. I wont praiſe myſelf,—but I'm ſo aſtoniſhingly clever—

I muſt at all events reſcue this lovely girl. To lend a helping hand to thoſe who are diſtreſs, is the character of our country, and Britiſh ſeamen have ever ſet the example.

SCENE II.

Come along, Dolly—Clean away.

How queer that man looks with his cudgel over his ſhoulder!

That's Mr. Humourſome. He is always to be on guard while the maids are in the room. Duſt away!

Ah, you are like the reſt. Women are always making a duſt in one part of the houſe or the other—Get out.

My maſter is a ſad old hunks, to be ſure. He hates the plain truth as I do phyſic, while he will ſwallow, chew, and digeſt a parcel of bouncing fibs by the hundred, as a man wou'd count walnuts. His houſe is like the fine ſpeeches of fine gentry, all conterfeit; and the furniture in it would ſerve for the ſcenery of a harlequin farce; it tumbles to pieces the mo⯑ment it is touched. But then theſe women prate ſo—Now they've hatched up a ſtory about an iron cage—Shut up his niece indeed! What do they take him for? I do ſo hate women—I hate them all except my young miſtreſs, becauſe we were foſtered together—I can't be expected to hate her—But I hate Selina, and I hate Dolly, tho' I never ſaw her before; and I hate—No, I don't hate [10]Fanny—I wiſh I could—Well I think ſhe'll have me: and when we're married, I dare ſay I ſhall hate her; for I know ſhe will uſe me like a dog; but I cannot hate her for all that. Oh, Lord! here ſhe comes! but I won't ſpeak to her.

What's the matter, Ralph?

I am thinking.

And, pray, what are you thinking of?

You.

I am much obliged to you; but you had better by half think of our young miſtreſs, who will be brought back preſently to be ſhut up in an iron cage.

So! they are all in the ſame ſtory.

'Tis a ſhame.

How can you talk ſuch nonſenſe? What does my maſter want to force her to?

Marriage.

That wou'd be out of one cage into another.

Cannot we contrive to help her, Ralph? You know ſhe cannot love a ſtrange man whom ſhe has never ſeen. Why don't you anſwer?

I am thinking—what I can do, not to love you.

Pſha! do not be nonſenſical. Don't you ſee what an excellent match Captain Cheerly [11]will be for Miſs Laura? A brave ſailor who fights for his country, and whom ſhe would marry for love! Why do not you anſwer again?

I am thinking—that, if you and I ſhould be married for love, we might chance to fight for victuals.

Aye, but we'll be married for all that.

Shall we?

Yes; and you ſhall be ſo ſmart, you ſhall look like a captain. You know, as my young miſtreſs's huſband is an officer in the navy, when you and I marry, you may wear a cockade in your hat as well as any captain of them all.

Wear a cockade! I am thinking, if you and I marry,

if I ſhall be able to wear a hat. No, I'll never marry, I'm determin'd. I'll leave ſervice rather than be made a fool of by the women.

I tell you we will be married.

And I tell you we won't—And I'll tell you why we won't.

Nay, but I declare—

Do but liſten to me. That little tongue of yours—

Liſten! Why, Lord bleſs me—

Will you hear me only for one minute?

Yes; but then you ſhall hear me for a minute afterwards.

Well, ſo I will. That's fair.

Well—now I'm ready to liſten.

Without ſpeaking.

I give you leave to ſay juſt what you like.

Oh, leave me alone for that.

You need not fear my interrupting you, I give you my word.

Well, that's all I want.

I'll keep my word too when I've once ſaid ſo.

Well, well, I believe that.

Now—I'm dumb.

That's beſt.

Mum! I won't open my mouth to draw my breath. Only remember—you ſhan't ſay I don't give you a fair hearing.

But you are talking now.

Nay that's monſtrous, when you have been talking all this while.

I? why I am ſure I have not ſpoke yet.

I am ſure you have: and you muſt have talked your minute out by this time. That you have, at leaſt; and now it's my turn.

Now, did any one ever hear ſuch a—

Nay, I proteſt I will have my minute now.

Why I have not begun mine.

Keep to your bargain.

Oh! a plague of—

Nay, if you run on at this rate, I'm re⯑ſolved [13]I won't ſtay to hear you. I won't come near you again till you have learnt to hold your tongue as I do.

Oh! a plague of theſe women! They are juſt like—

SCENE III.

So, there they go—I hear him lock her in. Well, if I had been miſs Laura, I wou'd have run at once to captain Cheerly.

It's a thouſand pities ſhe's troubled with ſo many delica⯑cies—I wiſh Ralph was half as well inclined to me—I give him good plain hints, tho' I cannot ſay they have hitherto been of any ſervice.

SCENE IV.

There! I think that ſettles the buſineſs. The keys are pretty ſafe by my ſide, and the door [16]is pretty ſtrong—I am ſtill ſo afraid of that young ſailor, that I'll ſet Ralph to watch. Here, Ralph!

Sir!

My good Ralph, you're very honeſt; and you know I'm very kind to you.

Yes, ſir; you're always telling me ſo—

Ralph, I put you in charge of this room in my abſence—Don't let any one come near that door: and if the maids come to touch any thing, drive them out.

Never fear, ſir—I'll be a match for any maid in Chriſtendom.

And hark ye, Ralph!

Yes, ſir,

If ſir Andrew M'Gorget ſhould happen to come during my abſence—

I'll drive him away, never fear—he ſhan't go near the door.

Pſha! you blockhead! you muſt let him come, and tell him I am only gone to enquire news of him at the inn. Be ſure you don't let the maids in. I had rather turn a tiger looſe into my cabinet than a woman, and ſhould be leſs alarmed at the roaring of the one, than the chattering of the other.

I thought it was ſo! He has brought home ſome great curioſity; the iron-grating was to keep off the mops and broomſticks, and this [17]outer door to keep the duſt off.

I cannot get a peep any where. What am I to do by myſelf here?

Here's nothing to be done.

I have no great pleaſure in reading—No—or writ⯑ing—No—Eating? Yes, I cou'd divert myſelf by eating a bit of ſomething, if—

Eh! comes juſt in time.

And now I think of it, I have a good mind to write a farewell letter to Fanny, that gypſey— Let's ſee—Yes, I'll ſend her a line.

Ah me!

O Lord! what's that? Here's ſomething alive in the room—Some cu⯑rious wild beaſt, perhaps a phoenix or crocodile—

A few lines— A long letter is worſe than—Pa! a rotten apple—Pha!

forced to leave you—love you—

But I ſay I will—Am I to have my eyes knocked out with apples?

O Lord! I have hit ſome one in the eye with that apple—What an unlucky dog I am! I had better get out of his way.

Hear what I tell you—If you make this diſturbance, I ſhall loſe all chance of ſucceſs.

I ſhall loſe my ſight. I'll ſearch the houſe over till I find the old man, who ſhall either beg my pardon, or fight me, or give me his niece; and perhaps he'll chuſe the laſt.

Egad he may, and then I loſe my hundred pounds. I don't know how it is: I cannot hit on a project to-day. If I could ſee Selina, we might contrive ſomething—Genius is ſo whimſical that I believe money frightens it away.

Cheerly!

Hark!

Cheerly!

That muſt be Laura—I'll paſs for Cheerly.

My dear Laura, is it you?

Are you alone?

Here is none but my very clever friend, Captain Vain, with me. You may ſpeak freely.

My uncle has ſhut me up in this room, 'till I conſent to marry ſir Andrew M'Gorget.

Sir Andrew M'Gorget! What! he that has been in Spain theſe ſixteen years, and has made a great fortune there? Is he come home?

No; but he is expected every hour.

I have it—There's my genius again—I ſee it directly—

Good bye, Laura! I'll take care of you.

I don't like to praiſe myſelf: but I am ſo aſtoniſhingly clever—Let me ſee—Selina can fur⯑niſh me with a dreſs—I have it—I'll order a coach to be ready to carry her off at a minute's warning. What a bleſſing to be ſuch a clever fellow!

O Lud! O Lud! it is miſs Laura, ſure enough, ſhut up in that room. Egad, if I had happen'd to be in the way when that angry captain came in with his one eye, I might have ſtood a chance of a couple of black ones.

Yonder's my cruel maſter—Now I ſhall hate him. I won't own a word of captain Cheerly having been here. If he aſks any queſtions, I muſt fob him off with half a ſcore bouncing ſtories in his own way—I don't care what I ſay to him now. That he ſhou'd be ſuch a hard-hearted, cruel, abomi⯑nable—

Who were thoſe fellows I ſaw lurking about? Has there been any one here?

Not a ſoul, ſir—I muſt have ſeen them, if they had been here, ſir.

You have not ſeen or heard any one?

Only poor miſs Laura, who has been crying there, ſir.

Ah, that's nothing—Girls love to ſhed tears.

I believe I love to ſhed tears too—I cannot help it when I think of poor miſs Laura, my own foſter-ſiſter, ſhut up—in a cage like a—like a wild beaſt. Don't you, pray, maſter, don't you uſe her ſo hardly—ſhe has not deſerved it, I am ſure.

Stand up, ſtand up, lad—The women have been perſuading you.

Your honor knows it is not for that; but it is ſo piteous to hear a poor Chriſ⯑tian creature ſing in a cage like a great bird.

Well, well, Ralph, leave all that to me—You may go.

Yes, ſir—But don't be ſo cruel to my young miſtreſs.

Well, well.

Don't now, pray, ſir—Indeed ſhe don't deſerve it—She don't indeed!

Leave that to me, I ſay. There, get you gone.

So, this goes well! M'Gorget is on his paſſage; his ſteward is every moment expected to meet him with the accounts of his eſtates. They muſt be rarely improved in ſixteen years' nurſing. I may now venture to give my priſoner a little air.

Believe how truly I implore.

Go, go. I'll never hear you more.

No, no, miſs: you are beſt where you are, till your huſband comes; and now liſten to the account you are to give of your⯑ſelf and family to ſir Andrew, when he arrives. I can invent a ſtory to my own credit, with any man in Chriſtendom: but the devil of it is, I have a ſhort memory, and cannot remember it when I have made it. Let's ſee—

‘Your family is de⯑ſcended from the Brummys, who came over with the Conqueror—your great grandfather was an eccleſiaſtic in the reign of Anne’—He was ſexton to the pariſh of Hounſlow. Remember I bury the ſexton. Then, when you ſpeak of the gold candle⯑ſticks, remember the duke of Montault made them a preſent to my uncle.

They have been pretty often preſented to my uncle ^*I warrant.

Sir, here's ſome one. Oh, poor miſs Laura!

Some one! Eh, where?

Some one below ſtairs, where you—But you ſhall not keep her there, old one—

[22]where you were enquiring for ſir Andrew and his ſteward.

I'll be with them directly. Rare news, my girl! He's come, I dare ſay. Out of the room, ſirrah! and don't let me catch you here at my return.

Barbarous uncle! How do you abuſe the truſt repoſed in you by my poor fond parents!

FINALE.

Did you call, ſir?

Quickly anſwer!

'Tis your man, ſir.

Varlets, you deceive your maſter.

We ſhall pay for this diſaſter.

I'm afraid the captain's caugh.

Guilty we ſhall all be thought.

Ring the larum, bring a light here.

Then, ſir, hold me not ſo tight here.

Is it you? I'm ſtrangely puzzled.

At the door I'll ſlily ſtay.

What's the wonder?

We came running at your call—

SCENE I. Apartment in BRUMMAGEM'S Houſe.

The deuce take that door and the iron grating! I muſt even give the note again to Selina.

Hark ye, Ralph! will you take a letter for me into miſs Laura's room with her breakfaſt?

No.

Will you carry a meſſage into the room to her?

No.

And why not, you ill-natured creature?

I am not ill-natured—I have a reaſon.

And pray, what is it?

Becauſe I'm not going into the room, and nobody is going into the room but my maſter himſelf.

Then now I'm ſure he means to ſtarve her. Cou'd not we contrive to make him carry this note himſelf?

Pſha! Pſha! Impoſſible! Obſerve, I [26]don't adviſe you to fold the note ſmaller, and put it under the tea-pot.

Oh, there's a dear Ralph.

Away! here is my maſter.

When my maſter places ſuch a confidence in me as to ſend me into the room—

Oh! I ſhall not do that neither. Give me the waiter.

Sha'n't I take it in, ſir?

You want to take in your maſter, knave.

Watch that no one comes into the houſe while I am here.

No—but I'll let ſomebody out of the houſe while you are here. I'm determined—I muſt ſet her free—it breaks my heart. The old one is a little near-ſighted, and can't ſee without ſpectacles, and is not very quick of hearing—I think I know a trick that wou'd do it. I muſt make ſome amends to captain Cheerly for knock⯑ing his eye out; but the worſt of it is, I can't do without the women.

Do, my dear Ralph,—there is a good creature.

There is never miſchief a-foot, but a woman pops her head in—It is like raiſing the devil by talking of ſin. Is it honeſt, Fanny, to impoſe on one's maſter?

Honeſt! Can he expect honeſty, who ſets ſo bad an example to his own family? Do you think it is honeſt to ſhut up a poor girl, and force her either to ſtarve or marry?

Indeed I don't know which is worſe. Away then with me, Fanny, down ſtairs, and I'll tell you all about it. We'll ſee our young miſtreſs married and merry, and then we'll be married our⯑ſelves. I ſee there is no helping it—It is what we muſt all come to.

I'm maſter, and rule houſe and table.

I'm miſtreſs, and you may rule me if you're able.

Who maſter,

Who miſtreſs,

I'll make you jealous, and romp with the petticoats.

I'll kiſs the fellows, and flirt with the pretty coats.

I'll not ſubmit to it,

Yes, you'll ſubmit to it,

SCENE II. LAURA'S Apartment—The iron Grate ſeen before the Door.

Taſte this tea, my dear—it was a preſent from the reigning emperor of China to an officer who attended our laſt embaſſy.

Indeed, ſir, I cannot touch a drop—Your ſeverity to me breaks my heart.

None of theſe airs! What will your looks be come to by the time your huſband, ſir Andrew, arrives? You are as white as paper already—Come, eat a little bit, and I'll give you ſome of the fineſt rouge from Paris: and you ſhall tell ſir Andrew, it is all a natural bloom got by walking in the park.

Do you think, ſir, I can debaſe myſelf to utter ſuch falſehoods? The obedience I owe to the authority inveſted in you by my parents, may require the ſacrifice of my will, but not of my veracity.

Pſha! Pſha! theſe are only little poetical embelliſhments. M'Gorget will never ſuſpect you hate him: and you know, when you are once lady M'Gorget, it is all ſafe and well. Come now, my deary, eat

Nay, nay, come then, ſome tea firſt

Eh! Oh ho! Oh, you little devil! This is your want of appetite? You wanted me out of the room— You cou'dn't eat—I warrant you cou'd have eat me for ſtaying ſo long.

Dear ſir, that's—that's nothing but a paper to keep the heat from ſpoiling the tea⯑board —Nothing elſe.

Spoiling the tea-board! Yes, yes, we'll ſee that.

‘Captain Vain has promiſed to bring you to me within the courſe of the day— he wou'dn't communicate his ſcheme, but ſays he is certain he can contrive it. Be prepared to [30]aſſiſt him, and to give your hand to’—I have a mind to put irons on your hands, and to faſten you to the ground, if it wou'dn't hurt their colour. That varlet, Ralph, muſt have had a hand in this; but I'll after him, and turn him out of doors in a minute.

What ſcheme can Vain have contrived? Be what it may, I will be prepared to aſſiſt it, ſince my guardian's cruelty leaves me no other hope of happineſs.

SCENE—The ſtreet before BRUMMAGEM's Houſe.

Come, come along, my lads! heave a⯑head. Three cheers under my miſtreſs's window, and then away.

What! ſlack in ſtays! Why, do you think Cheerly prefers his miſtreſs to his duty? No, no, my lads! My country;s ſervice—you rewarded, —and then my love. Ah! cou'd but my dear little girl and I be laſh'd alongſide each other before we part I ſhou'd be content. Vain has engaged [31]that I ſhall have her; but as he will not tell me his ſcheme, his conceit makes him unfit to be relied on. But hope is the ſtring that rides a ſailor's heart—So, heave a-head, my lads—One farewell at the window, and if the wind comes about a point to-morrow, we'll weigh, and then for Arethuſa's glory.

SCENE IV. Apartment, with the Door that covers the Iron grating.

I'm glad I've got rid of that ſimpleton, Ralph. He was a good ſervant enough while his mouth was ſhut; but he never opened it, except to eat or to ſpeak the truth,—two abominable qualities.—I ſhall do better without him—I could never have taught [33]him to tell a lie with a good grace: and that's all in all.

Well, is Ralph gone out of the houſe?

Yes, ſir; he went directly. There is a perſon who ſays he is a ſteward to Mr. Morget or Gorget, or ſome ſuch name.

How little ſhe knows of a grandee! M'Gorget, you blockhead.—Shew the ſteward up.

That's lucky enough. Now I can tell the ſtew⯑ard a few anecdotes to ſerve my own ends, and perhaps make friends of him before his maſter ar⯑rives. What airs he gives himſelf on the ſtairs! He ſeems confoundedly important—damn'd proud! O, that's a good ſign—He is rich as Croeſus, I dare ſay.

Your ſervant, ſir.

Sir, your moſt obedient, moſt devoted, moſt obſequious ſervant.

They told me you had been at the inn to aſk for me—My lord, ſir Andrew, I hear, intends to make a gentlewoman of your niece.

I hope, ſir, he will find ſhe is the daughter of a gentleman.

Oh yes, they told me you were a gentle⯑man's family—Brummagem, I believe.

Yes, ſir, my name is Brummagem— [34]How ſaucy theſe rich fellows are! Yes, ſir. My friend, M'Gorget—I'll be a little familiar too.

Sir Andrew M'Gorget you mean, ſir— My maſter does not like to be called Mac.

Muſt be very rich, to be ſure— I begin to feel great reſpect for him.

The caſe I underſtand to be—Brumma⯑gem—

Would you be pleas'd to take a cup of chocolate, ſir?

Yes—go fetch it.

No, I will ſend for it at leaſt—Fanny, bring chocolate.

I muſt give myſelf a few airs—I am ſorry you have only a female to wait on you at preſent.

I have been obliged to ſend away an impudent varlet this morning, whom i could not keep in the houſe for his vile love of lying—never could ſpeak the truth; but, poor fellow! I am ſo good to them all, that I dare ſay he'll ſoon be back again.

Ay, before you think of it, old rogue.

Pho! this is too hot, it burns my mouth.

It may be a little too hot; but this, ſir, is ſome of the moſt extraordinary chocolate that, I ſuppoſe, was ever fabricated. This is the vanilla [35]triloba toxicodendra. This abſolutely comes from the magazine of the firſt chocolate-maker in China, and has been in my houſe theſe nine years.

I fetch'd it myſelf from the chand⯑ler's ſhop this morning.

Sir, there's a gentleman come—

What's the matter with the girl? Take breath.

I ran up ſtairs, ſir, to tell you—I believe he was not expected ſo ſoon, ſir. Sir Andrew M'Gorget is come.

How! the deuce! Sir Andrew come!

Oh Lord! I'll run to receive him—

Where is he?

Juſt coming in at the court-gate.

Here, come along, Mr. What's-your-name? —I'll go before you—I'll be the firſt to re⯑ceive ſir Andrew.

Oh the devil! how ſhall I ever get out of this room again? I may ſave myſelf the trouble of thinking about it, becauſe I ſhall be ſure to be kick'd out.

Boy, take my ſombrero!

Thoſe great hats muſt be very fatiguing in a long journey, ſir Andrew.

To my pages they may be—it is their bu⯑ſinſs to be fatigued. No grandee in Spain, where I have been, ever takes any fatigue.

What a bleſſed country!

You ſeem to be ſtudying my dreſs. I imagine it ſurprizes you in this country.—

I hope he does not ſuſpect that Selina pilfered it from his own muſeum.

I proteſt, ſir Andrew, I don't know you in it.

No, I truſt not.—I don't wonder at that, Mr. Brummagem. The alteration it makes is aſtoniſhing. This is the exact dreſs of the noble Spaniards.

Ay, I have one which deſcended into my poſſeſſion by means of a great uncle of mine who lived in Spain, and had it preſented to him by the queen at a bull-fight—But I thought at preſent the mode was altered.

Not with the grandees. They are obliged indeed by the laws to have other cloaths; but they wear them by proxy.

Proxy!

We nobles in Spain do every thing by proxy. For inſtance now, you think I carry no flaps to my coat, no pockets.

I ſee none.

Moziganga!

Here, ſir.

Flaminy noſamo.

Brixemarti!

Here, ſir.

Tobacco my noſamo.

There, my dear friend—You ſee that is carrying things in my pocket by proxy—

May you live a thouſand years!

Eh!

Excuſe me: that's a common phraſe in Spain—It means, bleſs you, or thank you. But ſpeaking of the grandees of Spain, every thing, as I ſaid, is by proxy—They receive and pay viſits by proxy, and in ſhort, perform moſt of the duties of ſociety by proxy.

Give me leave to aſk one queſtion.

Live a thouſand years. Pray aſk me, ſir.

Do they eat and drink by proxy?

Not abſolutely. But, my dear friend, [38]how is your charming niece? Who is this gen⯑tleman? Probably one of your friends?

So! now I ſhall be finely blown.

Odſo! I forgot to mention to you, that your ſteward was arrived. The joy of ſeeing you quite put him out of my head.

My ſteward!

Aye, don't you ſee him? Yonder he is.

Yes, yes, I ſee him.—

I ſee I'm got into a pretty ſcrape.

This impudent ſteward takes no notice of his maſter.

Mr. Brummagem!

Well, what do you ſay?

Does my maſter know that I am here?

To be ſure he does—I told him ſo juſt now. Don't you ſpeak to ſir Andrew?

Per⯑haps ſir Andrew may not be at leiſure to be ſpoken to at preſent.

He is mighty humble at once. I ſuppoſe theſe grandees of Spain claim the privilege of ſpeaking firſt.

Brummagem!

Sir Andrew!

Does my ſteward know that I am come?

I believe he has not ſeen you; but what is his name? I'll call him to you.

Plaguy-mi-damnamo.

That's a damn'd odd name. Wo'n't you be pleas'd to let Plaguy-mi-damnamo approach you?

No, by no means.

Oh! I ſuppoſe he wo'n't ſpeak to him ex⯑cept by proxy. Would you wiſh I ſhould ſay any thing to him for you, to ſave you the fatigue of ſpeaking?

Diſmiſs him, and bid him wait for me at the inn.

Plaguy-mi-dam⯑namo, ſir Andrew will let you approach him at the inn, and not at this houſe.

So! I ſee he wo'n't even look at the ſteward except by proxy.

That's well got rid of. That's my genius!

But come, let us think of your charming niece—there is no time to be loſt— Have you ſettled the day and manner of the nuptials?

As early a day as you pleaſe.

To-day, if poſſible; and the ceremonials public.

With all my heart. In what manner will you take her to church?

By proxy.

What! my niece by proxy?

Yes; in a chariot and four able horſes, which ſhall be furniſhed from my own ſet, and two of my grooms on their backs.—

By this means Cheerly may carry her clear off before any alarm can be raiſed.

Well, ſir Andrew, if this is your plea⯑ſure, I ſhall certainly—

Live a thouſand years!

By proxy, I may, to be ſure. If you pleaſe, ſir, we'll ſtep in, and ſee my niece; ſhe's a little tired with a long walk ſhe has been taking in the fields,—I mean the park,—and looks a little paliſh.

Bleſs me, my dear friend, you are very cautious!

Why, the trouble of watching a young girl every minute is rather too much for an old man; ſo I employ theſe two proxies.

But are you ſure of what you ſay of cap⯑tain Vain?

Main ſure: I ſeed him talking with Mrs. Seliny.

It is he, ſure enough; ſo at laſt I know what theſe two keys belong to.

Oh, a plague! this fellow again!

How do you preſume to come back, ſir, in defiance of the will of your maſter, which I de⯑livered as his proxy?

Why, ſir, do you take this for ſir An⯑drew?

So! now, if my genius deſerts me—

You are impoſed on.

How! impoſed on! What! are not you ſir Andrew M'Gorget?

Certainly, ſir.

You my dear lord, the grandee, ſir Andrew?—Pray, ſir,

aſk him what town ſir Andrew lived at in Spain.—

It is beſt to be before-hand with him in theſe queſtions.

Ay, very true; what town did you live at in Spain?

The town, ſir? Why, the town, ſir—Oh, the town! Why, Barcelona, to be ſure.

There, ſir!—Was that the town?

Why, yes, to be ſure, Barcelona was the town.

The devil, it was! Let him an⯑ſwer in what ſhip he took his paſſage home.

Oh, all is ſafe! Let him anſwer that.

I ſee this fellow muſt go ſnacks with me.—Give me leave, Brummagem.—Hark ye, ſteward!

I have a purpoſe to anſwer in paſſing for your maſter at preſent.—If you will go halves with me in a hundred pounds, you may.

Not I indeed!—

I dare ſay you have a purpoſe.

Now for heaven's ſake—

I go ſhares with you!

Fifty pounds!

Leave the houſe directly, or—

Sixty!

I'll let Mr. Brummagem know,

A hundred!

That you are—

The devil!

You may be, for aught I know—

Mercy on me! What is all this?

A plague of this unſeaſonable interrup⯑tion! there is nothing left but decamping. Mr. Brummagem, you'll excuſe me—I'll take another opportunity.—Damn it! my genius has failed me.

I have a great mind to let Mr. Brummagem know who you are.

Who is he? In the name of wonder, who is the dog?

His name is Vain.

What! captain Vain? an impudent ſcoundrel!

To think of impoſing on you!

With his "Live a thouſand years!"

A vulgar fellow! when no gentleman in Spain ever wiſhes you to live leſs than ten thouſand at leaſt.

I begin to enjoy it now the danger's over. It will make a curious anecdote in my life —

with proper embelliſhments.

It reminds me of a ſingular circumſtance that ſir Andrew ſends me an account of in his laſt letter.

Ay; what was that?

Why—but I keep you ſtanding.

Pray, Brummy, no ceremonies.

Egad, I ſee you uſe none.

Sir Andrew gives an account—I believe I have the letter in my pocket.

Ah! let me hear all that ſir Andrew ſays—

"A young man of this place"—

Where is it dated? From Barcelona, Eh?

It is lucky that I happen to know that—Oh, from Barcelona, certainly.—But why need I read? I'll tell it you—A young man was deſperate⯑ly in love with a girl of good fortune; and the father denied his conſent, and wanted to marry her againſt her inclinations.

More fool he. Well!

Wherefore they laid a ſcheme to join the young people's hands, under the father's noſe.

Ah! and how did they manage it?

One day the old man comes home as uſual, with a hat as large

aye, larger than yours,

and [44]ſeeing ſome ſtrangers coming about the houſe, takes up his cane, that he always carried as you do,

This is a gold head.

Oh, the pureſt gold of Spain. It was given to my grandfather, by the—

Ay, no matter: I thought as much. Well, he takes his cane, and runs to his coffers where he kept his money; for ſir Andrew ſays he did not ſuſpect the deſign on his daughter.

Oh! a ſimpleton.

Quite a fool! Now his money was all faſt ſecured under two ſtout keys ſuch as theſe;

and forth he ſets to beat the rogues from his coffers.

Well, well.

In the mean time, while he was buſy at his coffers, a maid ſervant, coming behind his back,

takes the keys, goes to her young miſtreſs's door, opens it, lets the young lady know that her lover was waiting in the next room with a clergyman to marry them before they left the houſe.

Well, there was ſome decency in the young folks at leaſt.

Oh! ſir Andrew ſays he was a moſt ex⯑cellent young man.

But ſuppoſe, now, the father had happened to meet the maid on this errand

—what do you want here, huſſey?

I came to ſee if you would have the cho⯑colate-cup taken away, ſir.

Oh, very well—Ay, by all means. This is ſome of the fineſt china that—

But I ſay, my dear friend,

ſuppoſe he had met the maid.

Why, that would have been unlucky, to be ſure—But, as it happen'd, he never ſuſpected her.

Well, and ſo—

The young lady was all in readineſs to ſly to her lover, but ſo overcome with fear, that ſhe durſt not venture to leave the room; upon which, her lover—

goes to her room to encourage—

So far all is ſafe.

Oh, oh, my dear friend, but what!—All this happen before the father's face!

No, no, Brummy: you miſunderſtand me. They went behind the father's back.

Egad, it is lucky the old gentleman didn't turn his head round. What a pretty kettle of fiſh there wou'd have been!

Oh, but then—Aye, very true—I had forgot to tell you one circumſtance. This ſcheme was managed by a rogue of a ſervant who played the old fool the moſt ludicrous trick—I cannot help laughing when I think of it—

[46]I'll ſhew you how they contriv'd it.

By all means. It's a good ſtory, I dare ſay.

Excellent! I'll ſhew you. Well, now, you ſhall ſuppoſe I am this rogue of a ſervant.

Good.

And that you are the fool of a father.

With all my heart.

Now I take your large hat—ſuch a one, we'll ſuppoſe, as this

or larger, and I clap it entirely over your face.

Now turn your head about, firſt on one ſide, then on the other ſide. What do you ſee?

Nothing, to be ſure.

Well, while I keep this hat cloſe over your eyes, forth comes the whole proceſſion—firſt the maid ſervant with a bundle of her miſtreſs's cloaths;

Ay, very good.

Then the lover, ſupporting the poor frighten'd damſel;

Ay, very good.

And laſtly ſhe herſelf, as anxious to eſcape as a priſoner for life from his priſon, but trembling with fear leſt her father ſhould hear her; for if he had, you know—

Ha, ha, ha! You know—

Ha, ha!

Very true; I comprehend you—How their hearts muſt have leapt when they got clear off!

Ay—and when their hands were in⯑ſtantly joined by the clergyman in the next room.

A rare ſtory indeed! And very rarely contrived! Not like poor captain Vain's, with his fool's coat, and his thouſand years.

No; 'twas managed by a much cleverer fellow. You may take off the hat—the ſtory's over.

And where did this happen?

In Devonſhire.

In Devonſhire! Why, you ſaid it was in Spain.

Aye, Devonſhire in Spain.

And what ſort of an aſs is the old man?

Much ſuch another as yourſelf.

As me?

His name's Brummagem.

That's my name.

The ſame—Brummagem of Brumma⯑gem Hall.

Why, that's me.

Yes, it is you; and the rogue of a ſer⯑vant is—me.

Oh, you wicked, raſcally—

Nay, you ſaid yourſelf it was a good ſtory; and I am ſure it has anſwered a very good purpoſe—Ha, ha, ha!—

Eh! How! Why, is it poſſible? Oh! my niece is fled—Hollo! Fanny! Selina!

FINALE.

What! are you wed?

What arms does Cheerly bear?

Dear ſir, a trembling bride forgive, &c.

Dear ſir, your faithful ſlaves forgive:

For titles wedded, or for love, &c.