Lady G. Ay, Mr. Manly, here now I begin to tome in with you. Who knows, my lord, but you may have a good account of your kindness. Man. That I am afraid, we had not best depend apon. But since you have had so much patience. my lord, even go on with it a day or two more; and upon her ladyship's next sally, be a little rounder in your expostulations; if that don't work --drop her some cool hints of a determined reformation, and leave her-to breakfast upon them.

Lord T. You are perfectly right. How valuable is a friend in anxiety!

Man. Therefore, to divert that, my lord, I beg for the present, we may call another cause.

Lady G. Ay, for goodness' sake, let us have done with this.

Lord T. With all my heart.

Lord T. How so? Man. Oh, a bitter business; he had scarce a vote in the whole town, beside the returning of ficer. Sir John will certainly have it heard at the bar of the house, and send him about his business again.

Lord T. Then he has made a fine business of it, indeed.

Man. Which, as far as my little interest will go, shall be done in as few days as possible.

Lady G. But why would you ruin the poor gentleman's fortune, Mr. Manly?

Man. No, Madam; I would only spoil his project, to save his fortune.

Lady G. How are you concerned enough to do either?

Man. Why I have some obligations to the fa

Lord T. Pray, let us have it.

Man. Do you know that your country neighbour, and my wise kinsman, Sir Francis Wronghead, is coming to town with his whole family.

Lord T. The fool! What can be his business here ?

Man. Oh! of the last importance, I'll assure you-No less than the business of the nation. Lord T. Explain.

Man. He has carried his election-against Sir John Worthland.

Lord T. The deuce! What! for-forMan. The famous borough of Guzzledown. Lord T. A proper representative, indeed! Lady G. Pray, Mr. Manly, don't I know him? Man. You have dined with him, Madam, when I was last down with my lord, at Bellmont.

Lady G. Was not that he that got a little merry before dinner, and overset the tea-table in making his compliments to my lady?

Man. The same.

Lady G. Pray, what are his circumstances? I know but very little of him.

Man. Then he is worth your knowing, I can tell you, Madam. His estate, if clear, I believe, might be a good two thousand pounds a-year; though as it was left him, saddled with two jointures, and two weighty mortgages upon it, there is no saying what it is-But that he might be sure never to mend it, he married a profuse young hussy, for love, without a penny of money. Thus, having, like his brave ancestors, provided heirs for the family (for his dove breeds like a tame pigeon,) he now finds children and interest-money making such a bawling about his ears, that at last he has taken the friendly advice of his kinsman, the good Lord Danglecourt, to run his estate two thousand pounds more in debt, to put the whole management of what is left into Paul Pillage's hands, that he may be at leisure himself to retrieve his affairs, by being a parliament-man.

Lord T. A most admirable scheme, indeed! Man. And with this politic prospect, he is now upon his journey to London

Lord T. What can it end in?

Man. Pooh! a journey into the country again. Lord T. Do you think he'll stir, till his money is gone; or, at least, till the session is over?

Man. If my intelligence is right, my lord, he wont sit long enough to give his vote for a turnpike.

James. At our house, Sir; he has been gaping and stumping about the streets in his dirty boots, and asking every one he meets, if they can tell him where he may have a good lodging for a parliament-man, till he can hire a handsome house, fit for all his family, for the winter.

Man. I am afraid, my lord, I must wait upon Mr. Moody.

Lord T. Pr'ythee let us have him here ; he will divert us.

Man. Oh, my lord, he's such a cub! Not but he's so near common sense, that he passes for a wit in the family.

Lady G. I beg, of all things, we may have him: I am in love with nature, let her dress be never so homely.

Man. Then desire him to come hither, James. [Exit JAMES.

Lady G. Pray what may be Mr. Moody's post? Man. Oh! his maitre d'hotel, his butler, his bailiff, his hind, his huntsman, and sometimeshis companion.

Lord T. It runs in my head, that the moment this knight has set him down in the house, he will get up, to give them the earliest proof of what importance he is to the public, in his own country.

Man. Yes, and when they have heard him, he will find, that his utmost importance stands valued at-sometimes being invited to dinner.

Lady G. And her ladyship, suppose, will make as considerable a figure in her sphere, too. Man. That you may depend upon: for (if 1

don't mistake) she has ten times more of the jade | in her than she yet knows of: and she will so improve in this rich soil in a month, that she will visit all the ladies that will let her into their houses, and run in debt to all the shopkeepers that will let her into their books; in short, before her important spouse has made five pounds by his eloquence at Westminster, she will have lost five hundred at dice and quadrille in the parish of St. James's.

Lord. T. So that, by that time he is declared unduly clected, a swarm of duns will be ready for their money; and his worship-will be ready for a gaol.

Man. Yes, yes, that I reckon will close the account of this hopeful journey to London-But see, here comes the fore-horse of the team.

Enter JOHN MOODY.

Oh, honest John!

J. Moody. Ad's waunds and heart, Measter Manly! I'm glad I ha' fun ye. Lawd, lawd, give me a buss! why, that's friendly naw. Flesh; I thought we would never ha' got hither. Well, and how do you, Measter?-Good lack! I beg pardon for my bawldness-I did not see 'at his honour was here.

Lord T. Mr. Moody, your servant: I am glad to see you in London: I hope all the good family

is well.

J. Moody. Thanks be praised, your honour, they are all in pretty good heart; tho'f we have had a power of crosses upo' the road.

Lady G. I hope my lady has had no hurt, Mr. Moody.

J. Moody. Noa, and please your ladyship, she was never in better humour: there's money enough stirring now.

Man. What has been the matter, John?

J. Moody. Why, we came up in such a hurry, you mun think that our tackle was not so tight as it should be.

Man. Come, tell us all-Pray, how do they travel?

J. Moody. Why, i' the awld coach, Measter; and 'cause my lady loves to do things handsome, to be sure, she would have a couple of cart-horses clapt to the four old geldings, that neighbours might see she went up to London in her coach and six; and so Giles Joulter, the ploughman, rides postilion.

Man. Very well! The journey sets out as it should do. [Aside.] What, do they bring all the

children with them too?

J. Moody. Noa, noa, only the younk 'squire, and Miss Jenny. The other foive are all out at board, at half-a-crown a head, a week, with John Growse, at Smoke-dunghill farm.

Man. Good again! a right English academy for younger children!

J Moody. Anon, Sir. [Not understanding him. Lady G. Poor souls! What will become of them? J. Moody. Nay, nay, for that matter, Madam, they are in very good hands: Joan loves 'um as thof' they were all her own: for she was wetnurse to every mother's babe of 'um-Ay, ay, they'll ne'er want for a belly-full there?

Lady G. What simplicity!

Man. The Lud a' mercy upon all good folks! What work will these people make! [Holding up his hands.

Lord T. And when did you expect them here, John?

J. Moody. Why, we were in hopes to ha' come yesterday, an' it had no' been that the awld Weazlebelly horse tired: and then we were so cruelly loaden, that the two fore-wheels came crash down at once, in Waggon-rut lane, and there we lost four hours 'fore we could set things to rights again.

Man. So they bring all the baggage with the coach then?

J. Moody. Ay, ay, and good store on it there is-Why, my lady's geer alone were as much as filled four portmantel trunks, beside the great deal box that heavy Ralph and the monkey sit upon behind.

Lord T. Lady G. and Man. Ha, ha, ha! Lady G. Well, Mr. Moody, and pray how many are there within the coach?

J. Moody. Why, there's my lady, and his worship, and the younk 'squoire, and Miss Jenny, and the fat lapdog, and my lady's maid, Mrs. Handy, and Doll Tripe, the cook, that 's all-Only Doll puked a little with riding backward; so they hoisted her into the coach-box, and then her stomach was easy.

Lady G. Oh, I see them! I see them go by me. Ha, ha! [Laughing.

J. Moody. Then you mun think, Measter, there was some stowage for the belly as well as the back too; children are apt to be famished upon the road; so we had such cargoes of plumb-cake, and baskets of tongues, and biscuits, and cheese, and cold boiled beef-And then, in case of sickness, bottles of cherry brandy, plague water, sack, tent, and strong beer so plenty, as made th' awld coach crack again. Mercy upon them! and send them all well to town, I say.

Man. Ay, and well out on't again, John.

J. Moody. Ods but, Measter! you're a wise man; and for that matter, so am I-Whoam's whoam, I say: I am sure we ha' got but little good e'er sin' we turned our backs on't. Nothing but mischief! Some devil's trick or other plagued us aw' the day lung. Crack, goes one thing! bawnce, goes another! Woa! says Roger-Then, sowse! we are all set fast in a slough. Whaw, cries Miss! Scream, go the maids! and bawl, just as thof' they were stuck. And so, mercy on us! this was the trade from morning to night. But my lady was in such a murrain baste to be here, that set out she would, thof" I told her it was Childermas day.

Man. These ladies, these ladies, JohnJ. Moody. Ay, Measter! I ha' seen a little of them; and I find that the best-when she 's mended, wont ha' much goodness to spare.

Lord T. Well said, John. Ha, ha!

Man. I hope at least, you and your good woman agree still.

J. Moody. Ay, ay: much of a muchness. Bridget sticks to me: though as for her goodness why, she was willing to come to London tooBut hauld a bit! Noa, noa, says I; there may be mischief enough done without you.

Man. Why that was bravely spoken, John, and like a man.

J. Moody. Ah, weast heart! were measter but hawf the mon that I am-Ods wookers! thof he'll speak stautly too, sometimes-But then he canno' hawld it-no, he canno' hawld it.

Lord T. Lady G. and Man. Ha, ha, ha

Count B. How the devil can I, if you wont hear me?

Moth. What, hear you talk of another woman! Count B. Oh, lud! Oh, lud! I tell you, I'll make her fortune-Ounds, I'll marry her!

Moth. A likely matter! if you would not do it when she was a maid, your stomach is not so sharp set now, I presume.

Count B. Hey-day! why your head begins to turn, my dear! The devil! you did not think I proposed to marry her myself.

Moth. If you don't, who the devil do you think will marry her?

Count B. Why, a fool

Moth. Humph! there may be sense in thatCount B. Very good-One for t'other, then; if I can help her to a husband, why should you not come into my scheme of helping me to a wife?

Moth. Your pardon, Sir; ay, ay, in an honourable affair, you know you may command me -But pray, where is this blessed wife and husband to be had?

Count B. Now, have a little patience-You must know then, this country knight and his lady bring up in the coach with them their eldest son and a daughter, to teach them-to wash their faces and turn their toes out.

Moth. Good

Count B. The son is an unlicked whelp, about sixteen, just taken from school; and begins to hanker after every wench in the family: the daughter, much of the same age; a pert, forward hussy, who, having eight thousand pounds left her by an old doting grandmother, seems to have a devilish mind to be doing in her way too.

Moth. And your design is to put her into business for life?

Count B. Look you, in short, Mrs. Motherly, we gentlemen, whose occasional chariots roll only upon the four aces, are liable, sometimes, you know, to have a wheel out of order; which, I confess, is so much my case at present, that my dapple grays are reduced to a pair of ambling chairmen. Now, if, with your assistance, I can whip up this young jade into a hackney-coach, I may chance, in a day or two after, to carry her, in my own chariot, en famille, to an opera. Now, what do you say to me?

Moth. Why, I shall not sleep for thinking of it. But how will you prevent the family smoking your design?

Count B. By renewing my addresses to the mother.

Moth And how will the daughter like that, think you?

Count B. Very well-whilst it covers her own affair.

Moth That's true- it must do-but, as you say, one for t'other, Sir; I stick to thatif you don't do my niece's business with the son, I'll blow you with the daughter, depend upon't.

Count B. It's a bet-pay as we go, I tell you; and the hundred shall be staked in a third hand.

Moth. That's honest-But here comes my niece; shall we let her into the secret? Count B. Time enough; may be I may touch upon it.

Enter MYRTILLA.

Moth. So, niece, are all the rooms done out, and the beds sheeted?

Myr. Yes, Madam; but Mr. Moody tells us the lady always burns wax in her own chamber, and we have none in the house.

Moth. Odso! then I must beg your pardon, Count; this is a busy time, you know. [Exit. Count B. Myrtilla, how dost thou do, child? Myr. As well as a losing gamester can. Count B. Why, what have you lost? Myr. What I shall never recover; and what's worse, you that have won it, don't seem to be much the better for it.

Count B. Why, child, dost thou ever see any body overjoyed for winning a deep stake six months after 'tis over.

Myr. Would I had never played for it. Count B. Pshaw! hang these melancholy thoughts! we may be friends still. Myr. Dull ones!

Count B. Useful ones, perhaps-suppose I should help thee to a good husband?

Myr. I suppose you'll think any one good enough, that will take me off o' your hands.

Count B. What do you think of the young country 'squire, the heir of the family that's coming to lodge here?

Myr. How should I know what to think of him?

Count B. Nay, I only give you the hint, child: it may be worth your while, at least to look about you-Hark! what bustle 's that without?

Enter MRS. MOTHERLY in haste.

Moth. Sir, Sir! the gentleman's coach is at the door; they are all come.

Count B. What, already?

Moth. They are just getting out!-Wont you step and lead in my lady! Do you be in the way, niece; I must run and receive them. [Erit Count B. And think of what I told you.

(Erit.

Myr. Ay, ay; you have left me enough to think of as long as I live-A faithless fellow ! I am sure I have been true to him; and for that only reason he wants to be rid of me. But while women are weak, men will be rogues; and for a bane to both their joys and ours, when our vanity indulges them in such innocent favours as make them adore us, we can never be well, till we grant them the very one that puts an end to their devotion-But here comes my aunt and the company.

MRS. MOTHERLY returns, showing in LADY WRONGHEAD, led by COUNT BASSET.

Moth. If your ladyship pleases to walk into this parlour, Madam, only for the present, 'till your servants have got all your things in.

Lady W. Well, dear Sir, this is so infinitely obliging-I protest it gives me pain, though, to turn you out of your lodgings thus.

Count B. No trouble in the least, Madam: we

single fellows are soon moved: besides, Mrs. Motherly 's my old acquaintance, and I could not be her hindrance.

Moth. The Count is so well bred, Madam, I dare say he would do a great deal more to accommodate your ladyship.

Lady W. Oh, dear Madam!-A good, wellbred sort of a woman. [Apart to the COUNT. Count B. Oh, Madam! she is very much among people of quality; she is seldom without them in her house.

Lady W. Are there a good many people of quality in this street, Mrs. Motherly?

Moth. Now your ladyship is here, Madam, I don't believe there is a house without them.

Lady W. I am mighty glad of that; for, really, I think people of quality should always live among one another.

Count B. 'Tis what one would choose, indeed, Madam.

Lady W. Bless me! but where are the children all this while?

Moth. Sir Francis, Madam, I believe is taking care of them.

Sir F. [Within.] John Moody! stay you by the coach, and see all our things out-Come, children. Madam.

Moth. Here they are,

Enter SIR FRANCIS, 'SQUIRE RICHARD, and MISS JENNY.

Sir F. Well, Count, I mun say it, this was koynd, indeed.

Count B. Sir Francis, give me leave to bid you welcome to London.

Sir F. Psha! how dost do, mon ?Waunds, I'm glad to see thee! a good sort of a house this. Count B. Is not that Master Richard! Si F. Ey, ey, that's young Hopeful-Why dost not baw, Dick?

'Squire R. So I do, feyther. Count B. Sir, I'm glad to see you-I protest Mrs. Jane is grown so, I should not have known her.

Sir F. Come forward, Jenny. Jenny. Sure, papa! do you think I don't know how to behave myself?

Count B. If I have permission to approach her, Sir Francis.

Jenny. Lord, Sir! I'm in such a frightful pickle[Salute. Count B. Every dress that's proper must become you, Madam-you have been a long journey. Jenny. I hope you will see me in a better to morrow, Sir.

[LADY WRONGHEAD whispers MRS. MoTHERLY, pointing to MYRTILLA. Moth. Only a niece of mine, Madam, that lives with me: she will be proud to give your ladyship any assistance in her power.

Lady W. A pretty sort of a young womanJenny, you two must be acquainted. Jenny. Oh, mamina, I am never strange in a strange place. [Salutes MYRTILLA. Myr. You do me a great deal of honour, Madam-Madam, your ladyship's welcome to London.

Jenny. Mamma, I like her prodigiously; she called me my ladyship.

'Squire R. Pray, mother, mayn't I be acquainted with her too?

Lady W. You, you clown! stay till you learn a little more breeding first.

Sir F. Ods heart, my Lady Wronghead! why do you baulk the lad? How should he ever learn breeding, if he does not put himself forward?

'Squire R. Why, ay, feyther, does mother think 'at I'd be uncivil to her?

Myr. Master has so much good humour, Madam, he would soon gain upon any body.

'Squire R. Lo' you there, mother; and you would but be quiet, she and I should do well enough. [He kisses MYRTILLA.

Lady W. Why, how now, sirrah! boys must not be familiar.

'Squire R. Why, an' I know nobody how the murrain mun 1 pass my time here, in a strange place? Naw you and I, and sister, forsooth, sometimes, in an afternoon, may play at one and thirty bone-ace, purely.

Jenny. Speak for yourself, Sir; d'ye think I play at such clownish games?

'Squire R. Why, and you woant, yo' ma' let it aloane! then she and I mayhap will have a bawt at all fours, without you.

Sir F. Noa, noa, Dick, that wont do neither; you mun learn to make one at ombre, here, child. Myr. If master pleases, I'll show him. 'Squire R. What! the Humber! Hoy-day! why does our river run to this tawn, feyther?

Sir F. Pooh! you silly tony! ombre is a geam at cards, that the better sort of people play three together at.

'Squire R. Nay, the more the merrier I say; but sister is always so cross-grained

Jenny. Lord! this boy is enough to deaf people and one has really been stuffed up in a coach so long, that-Pray, Madam-could not I get a little powder for my hair?

Myr. If you please to come along with me, Madam. [Exeunt MYR. and JENNY. 'Squire R. What, has sister taken her away, naw! mess, I'll go and have a little game with 'em. [Exit after them. Lady W. Well, Count, I hope you wont so far change your lodgings, but you will come, and be at home here sometimes?

Sir F. Ay, ay! pr'ythee, come and take a bit of mutton with us, naw and tan, when thou'st naught to do.

Count B. Well, Sir Francis, you shall find I'll make but very little ceremony.

Sir F. Why, ay now, that's hearty! Moth. Will your ladyship please to refresh yourself with a dish of tea, after your fatigue? I think I have pretty good.

Lady W. If you please, Mrs. Motherly; but I believe we had best have it above stairs. Moth. Very well, Madam: it shall be ready immediately. [Exit MRS. MOTHERLY. Lady W. Wont you walk up, Sir? Sir F. Moody!

Count B. Sha'n't we stay for Sir Francis, Madam?

Lady W. Lard! don't mind him: he will come if he likes it.

Sir F. Ay, ay! ne'er heed me--I have things to look after.

[Exeunt LADY WRONG. and COUNT BASSET. Enter JOHN MOODY.

J. Moody. Did you call me, Sir?