1 find you have effectually accomplished my request, and induced Captain Crevelt to alter his resolution. [Exit. Col. Luckily, Sir Oliver has taken a very great liking to him; and told me that he would insist upon his passing a few days at his house, previous to visiting his relations.

Enter COUNT and MANDEVILLE,

Count. J'espère, Monsieur Mandeville, you are perfectly satisfy- -sur mon honneur, had 1 known Mademoiselle Harriet was engagé, I never would pay l'adresse.

Man. I believe it, count; and hope you will forgive the warmth I was at first betrayed into. Count. Mon Dieu! il est l'effervescence d'une grande âme; no brave man ever resign sa maîtresse avec sang froid.

Col. Now, Mandeville, to completely remove your fears in regard to Harriet, know, I have made your peace with her uncle-would you believe it? he actually proposed his daughter to me -however, by the dint of argument, added to the influence of an old friendship, I at last brought

him to reason.

Enter SIR OLIVER.

Sir O. Colonel, colonel, is this strict observance of treaty? the carriages are waiting for us at the door-were we not all to set off for my house immediately? did you not promise to pass ten days with me when you had contradicted me into con

sent at last?

Count. Monsieur Oldstock, your niece was very pretty to be sure; mais, mon Dieu! votre fille be very pretty aussi; me understand she vill not marry young Monsieur Talbot, and mon ami the colonel vill not have her-eh bien, vat you say to me for von husband?

Sir O. With all my heart and soul, count-I don't know a French gentleman of a long time I have taken such a liking to-damn me if you have not a fine roast-beef countenance.

Col. I fancy, count, that lady's affections are also engaged.

Count. Je suis très malheureux ! all de English lady be engaged! but me be not surprised; for, if de foreigner set so much value on de English lady, vat must their own countrymen, who know them better, do ?

Sir O. Why, what the deuce, colonel, is all this? You wont marry my daughter yourself; you wont suffer your son, whatever her inclinations may be, to marry her; and now you put the count against her.

Col. Will you leave the lady to her own choice?

Sir O. The worst of it is, I must do that.Count, a word in your ear-to her yourself you're a devilish straight, well-looking fellow; no appearance of frogs about you, except upon your

coat.

Count. I wish it vid all my heart. [Exit. Col. How unsubstantial are all the projects of man, in whatever hope flatters hin with happiness-this unhappy boy distracts me!

Sir O. Damn me! if I wouldn't send him down into Wales or Yorkshire-for about fifteen pounds a-year, you may get him decently boarded and clad, and educated into the bargain.

Enter a SERVANT.

Serv. I have been in search of Mr. Talbot, Sir, since you spoke to me; and have just heard that he is gone to one Jacob Wilkins', an innkeeper near Smithfield.

Col. I am exposed, you see, already.

Sir O. It's your own fault if you continue to be exposed; come along, Colonel; yonder, I see Captain Crevelt putting the women into the carriages. We'll drive round by this Wilkins', and take this young Mohawk by surprise; the moment you get possession of him, banish him into Wales.

Col. I will myself go in person to Wilkins', and from his own lips learn every particular respecting this unhappy youth, from the hour I left him in his care; and as you propose going home way, Sir Oliver, I will trespass so far upon your patience as to request you will wait for me whilst I make this inquiry.

that

Man. Dear Sir, don't make yourself so unhappy. Col. What is there wealth can purchase I cannot possess? my feelings are at once a satire and [Exeunt

a lesson to avarice.

SCENE II-A Room at JACOB WILKINS'. JOHNSON and MRS. WILKINS discovered at tea.

Mrs. Wil. I'm sure I shall never forget the first time I was in this room; where you see Mr. Wilkins has his honour the colonel's picture updear heart, what a handsome man he is! it's a great pity he does not marry.

Johns He's very much altered-consider it's many years since that picture was painted; his face is parched to the complexion of an old drum head, and his hair is perfectly silver.

Mrs. Wil. What effect silver hair may have upon your great ladies, I will not pretend to say; but this I'll swear to; bait your hook properly with gold, and a poor girl is a trout you may take with a single hair of any colour. If it was not for his money, do you think I'd ever have married old Jacob Wilkins?

Johns. Why, no, I hardly think you would; but why, my dear creature, has his name escaped your lips? should he possess such a treasure? the man worthy of you should always meet you with the ardour of a lover, and dart, as I do, with transport into your arms.

Enter BETTY.

Bet. O, Madam! Madam! my master is come home, and is raving like mad at your leaving the bar, and drinking tea up stairs.

Mrs. Wil. He doesn't know I have any body with me?

Bet. Lord, Ma'am, to be sure he doesn't; I told him you were not well, and that you found the bar too cold for you.

Mrs. Wil. You're an excellent girl. Johns. How the devil will you get me out? Bet. I hear his cough at the foot of the stairsdear Madam, he 's coming up.

Johns. 'Sdeath, I'll run and shut myself up in that little room yonder.

Mrs. Wil. By no means! that's our own bedchamber; his bureau is in it; and as he pays his

Bet. I have it, Madam; I'll let down this window curtain, and the gentleman may get behind it if my master asks why it is down, you may say you were so ill, the light was too much for you. [Drops the window curtain before JOHNSON. Mrs. Wil. Such a servant is worth her weight in gold.

Bet. Here, Madam; tie this handkerchief about your head; appear very bad indeed—there, Madam-let him come now when he pleases, we are ready for him. [Exit.

Enter WILKINS and AMBER.

Wil. So, Mr. Amber, you have a curiosity to see the upper part of my house; you can't think how pleasant it is: my wife can tell you what a prospect there is on my upper story.

Am. Poor Mrs. Wilkins is quite muffled up; she's very bad, poor woman; I'm sorry we disturb her.

Wil. Why, Fanny, my love, what's the matter? you were very well when I went out.

Mrs. Wil. I have been seized, all of a sudden, with such a terrible pain on one side of my face, I can hardly get my words out.

[Exeunt MRS. WILKINS and BETTY Am. Don't notice me, child; business must be minded-but let me see--suppose I sign my receipt, and have it ready for him.

[Taking out his pocket-book and ink-horn. Enter WILKINS.

Wil. Here is the money, my old boy; have you got your receipt ready?

Am. I was going to sign it; but my eyes are so dim, I can't see with that curtain down. Wil. As my wife 's not here to complain of the light, I'll draw it up for you.

[Draws up the curtain. Am. That will do, I see plain enough now. Wil. And so do I too -O the Jezabel! Enter MRS. WILKINS.

Mrs. Wil. Ruined!

Am. My dear Mrs. Wilkins, I beg ten thousand pardons for letting so much light into the room, but I declare I could not see to write my receipt.

Wil. Well, Mr. Johnson, what brought you here?-what have you to say for yourself-are you come to rob my house?

of me?

Mrs. Wil. To be sure it will, when I can't bear the light.

Am. Friend Wilkins, friend Wilkins, the light is too much for her.

Mrs. Wil. You're a considerate man, Mr. Amber, and, I dare say, make an excellent hus

band.

Wil. Well, well, then let the curtain remain down-come, Fanny, give your old Jacob a kiss. Mrs. Wil. I'm too fond of you, Jacob, and you take advantage of that.

Wil. No, but I don't-kiss me again, you fond fool, it will do you good.

Am. Ah! you're a happy couple; but you take the right method to be so, by giving way to one

another.

Wil. But now we are up stairs, friend Amber, sit down, and I'll go bring some money out of the next room, and pay you.

Mrs. Wil. I beg of you, Jacob, to take him down stairs and pay him: even your talking sets my head distracted.

Wil. My dear, I sha'n't be two minutes settling with him; it will affront him if you turn him out of the room; you shall have the place to yourself immediately. [Exit.

Re-enter Betty.

Bet. Madam, you're undone, if you don't come down stairs immediately: Ned, the new waiter, saw Mr. Johnson, and he as good as told me he'd acquaint my master.

Mrs. Wil. What shall I do? I'm afraid to leave the room.

Bet. You needn't stop a minute; it's only squeezing Ned's hand, and slipping a sly halfguinea into it, and all will be right.

Mrs. Wil. O, Betty, I wish he was well out

Wil. 'Sdeath and fire, man, sha'n't I believe my own eyes?

Am. Not always-we are all apt to be suspicious at times-I'll wish you a good evening-there is my receipt the fondest couples will spar now and then-but I never like to meddle in family quarrels. Wilkins, you certainly have a fine prospect on your upper story-good evening, good Mrs. Wilkins.

[Exit.

Wil. Go, Madam; pack up your alls, and leave my house immediately-if you are in want of a morsel of bread, it would give me pleasure to refuse it to you. As for you, Sir, I'll take care your business shall be done with Colonel Talbot-I'll see you both beggars, and that will be some satisfaction to me.

Enter SERVANT.

Serv. Colonel Talbot is coming up stairs, Sir, to speak to you.

Johns. Confusisn! I'm undone !

Enter COLONEL TALBOT.

Col. Johnson, here!

Wil. Yes, Sir, Johnson; your worthy gentleman is here on a visit to that wretch, my wife. Mrs. Wil. Wretch, Mr. Wilkins!

Wil. Yes, Madam, an ungrateful wretch. Col. I'm sorry, Johnson, for this; I was given to understand you were come in search of my son. Mrs. Wil. Wretch! I'll discover all, if I'm ruined for ever. [Aside.] He's not your son, Sir[Going up to the Colonel. Wil. Devil! devil! what is she going to say? Col. Not my son! speak again, woman. Wil. But, dear colonel, sure you wont believe what this wicked woman will say?

Col. Away, villain, and let me hear her alarmed nature starts up in my heart, and opens

a thousand ears to listen to her.

Mrs. Wil. He lost your son, Sir, when he was

a boy of twelve years old; and you may be sure, Sir, it wasn't the kindest usage made the child leave him; the booby he palmed upon you is his

own.

Col. Unprincipled, inhuman villain let me hear the whole truth from your own lips, or, by every power that's sacred and divine, this moment is your last.

Wil. Dear Sir, put up your sword, and I'll tell you every thing.What she says is partly true; your son strayed from me when he was about twelve years old; but, had he been my own, I couldn't have used him better: as a proof of it, his mother, in her last illness, came, as she often did, privately to see him, and was so well pleased with my wife's and my treatment of her son, that she gave me a fifty-pound bank note-I shall never forget the day; it was the last time I ever saw her: she hung a small picture of herself, set in gold, about the child's neck, and wept bitterly over him.

Col. Can you produce that picture?

Wil. Your son took it with him: he was so fond of it, I could never keep it out of his hands but by locking it up; which I sometimes did, as the severest of all punishments I could inflict upon him. Col. I must have better proof this tale is true, before I let you escape that justice I fear is due to your wickedness.-Johnson, take him from my sight, and let him be secured: I cannot bear to look at him.-Tell the company, waiting for me in carriages at the door, to come in; for I am su agitated, and anxious for more particulars, I cannot quit this detested spot.

Johns. They are here, Sir.

[Exit JOHNSON, WILKINS, and WIFE. Enter CREVELT, MANDEVILLE, CHARLOTTE, HARRIET, SIR Oliver, Lady ÖLDSTOCK, and COUNT.

Crev. Dear Sir, what is the matter? Observing a confusion in the house immediately after you went in, we were alarmed for your safety.

Col. Oh, Crevelt! I am the unhappiest of fathers; that creature, whom you all suppose my son, is not so.

Char. Good fortune be praised!

Col. He's son to the fellow who keeps this house. He says, my poor child strayed from him when a boy; but this tale is so improbable, that I rather fear he has fallen a victim to this fellow's villany and avarice.

Crev. Dear Sir, compose yourself, and hope human nature cannot be so depraved; it wrings my heart to see you in this distress.-But who is this villain ?

Col. His name is Wilkins.-When I committed my child to his care, he lived at Henley: he pretends he lost him at twelve years old; and, oh agony to think! if he, indeed, be living, he is at this moment a wandering outcast and a beggar. Crev. Merciful heaven! What do I hear? Can it be possible! Shall I, in my loved and honoured patron, find a fond and living father? Sir, did that man lose a son of yours at twelve years of age? Col. Yes, Crevelt; I have no son but you now. Crev. I am your son, Sir-your happy son! that son you lost.

Col. You! You, Crevelt !

Crev. Yes, Sir, the veteran, whose name I Dear, took me with him, at the age you mention, from Henley, where I lived with the man you have

just named, whom I always thought my father; it was the pride of poor Crevelt's heart to have me believed his son: I bore his name, and publicly acknowledged him as my father; for you Sir, could not have loved me better; his dying request to me was, still to retain the name of Crevelt, and never forget the man who made me a soldier.

Col. My son! my son! The hand of Providence has surely directed every circumstance of your life; you were brought to me a stranger and a child; I became your parent by resistless instinct; in battle once I owed my life to you, and now a second time you save it.

Char. Oh! Harriet. There is a chord of delight in my heart never touched before; and sure he who made that heart, now moves its springs to ecstasy by the finger of an angel.

Col. He talked of your taking with you a pie ture of your mother—had you ever any such thing? Crev. I have it still, Sir, and ever wore it next my heart. [Producing the picture from his besom.] You see the frame is shattered ;-it was by a musquet ball the day every body thought I was killed.

Col. It is indeed your mother; and see here those specs under the eye; are they my child's blood, or the tears of a fond parent?

[JOHNSON to CALEB without.] You must not come in; I have already explained every thing effectually.

Enter CALEB, very abruptly, and JOHNSON. Cal. I tell you I will come in: zounds! will nobody father me?

Col. Young man, you have been deceived; you are Wilkins' son, not mine.

Cal. Pho, pho! Father, do you think I know no better?

Johns. If you don't come out this moment, and no longer disturb my master, I'll take you by the shoulder.

Cal. Why here's a fellow for you-forgets he is talking to a captain!

Col. That is a rank you are so utterly unfit for, that it would only expose you to unhappiness and ridicule; therefore your commission shall be sold; and for being one day my son, the purchase money shall be appropriated to set you up in business.

Johns. Well, what keeps you now?

Cal. You are in a devil of a hurry, Mr. Johnson I find I must put up with old Jacob again; but let me ask you one question, an't I to be entitled to half-pay for my services?

Johns. You shall have full-pay if you don't go about your business. [Shakes his cane at him. Cal. Well, if I can't be half-pay captain, I'l be a no-pay captain-for once a captain and always a captain." [Erit.

Sir O. Captain Crevelt-1 beg your pardon, Captain Talbot,-give me your hand; you want nothing now but a wife, and if my daughter Charlotte

Count. Eh bien! Monsieur Chevalier, you have forgot

Sir O. Why, no, count, I have not forgot ; but you must know, that whatever my respect for you may be, there is not that man living whose alliance I so much desire as Colonel Talbot's; besides, I understand there is another branch of the family of my mind.