the dignity of a fine gentleman to rejoice at the fuccess of a worthier man than himself, adjourn with us to Worry-hall.

Sir Har. Any thing for a frolic, General; for I'm in tip-top spirits.

Gen. All that now remains, is for me to endeavour to prevail upon Sir Walter to meet us, and confent to make the little rogues happy :-for my own part, I am now fully convinced, that the tender affections were never implanted in the human breaft to be call'd forth or fuppreffed by the caprice of an unfeeling parent.

VAUDEVILL E..
NARCISSA.

Rofy archer, come away!

Give your train a holiday;

Lay your bow and quiver by,
Ceafe to wound, and hither hic!
CHORUS.

Rofy archer, &c.

BYRON.

Hither bring the fmiling graces,.
And the loves with cherub faces;
Bid the valleys laugh and fay,
"Love has made a holiday!"
CHORUS.

Hither bring, &c..
SIR HARRY.

Lips of coral! eyes fo pretty!
Out of luck, foregad, was I :
Tho' I am chous'd, I'll join the ditty;-
Down, thou little rifing, figh.

May love's tender prittle-prattle
Keep the day for ever bright,

And no jealous tittle-tattle

Mar the raptures of the night!
CHORUS.

May Love's tender, &c..
JENNY.

Gentlefolks, if you'll permit me,
I've a word or two to fay,
Tho' perhaps it mayn't befit me,
On my lady's wedding-day..

Graveft

Graveft Don with eye of ferrit,
Though he practise all his art,
Cannot break a woman's fpirit,

Till he's ftrength to break her heart.
CHORUS.

Graveft Don, &c.

COLONEL WORRY.

Brother grey-beards, fhort's my story,
Read your features in this glafs ;
Here's a convert now before ye
Metamorphos'd from an afs :-
When a fwain of merit woos her,
Make your girl a happy wife;
Nature bids you not refuse her,
In the crifis of her life.

CHORUS.

When a fwain of merit woos her,
Make your girl a happy wife;
Nature bids you not refufe her,
In the crifis of her life!

EPI

354

Written by the AUTHOR,

And Spoken by Mr WESTON, entering with a large dog.

H, Lud! what authors have we now-a-days?

A farmer this!-ecod, or what you please:
He fwears (tho' we've but just got thro' one fweat-o)
He'll make us fpeak an epilogue duetto.---

What fay you, Dragon?-Why's your tail fo low?-
Be not chop-fall'n-they can't damn you, you know;~~
What, dumb, my comrade?-terrible difafter!

So I muft puff for you and for your master?
Ye Gods, be kind!No cat-call interference!
Believe Tom Wefton, 'tis his first appearance.--

You would not think it; but the rogue's so steady,
He's in the privy-council here already:

The Prompter gives him merit univerfal,
Becaufe-whistling] his whistle calls him to rehearsal:
Befides, he imitates no tragic brother,-

Who makes him pull down one bill-post another.
Tho' he's not fleek, and has an hungry eye,
(A poet's dog is never fed too high),

Yet he is found, Sirs, and in good condition;
He has no whimfies-no indifpofition:
Whene'er in letters large the bills he graces,
You're fure of feeing him-if you have places;
He'll top the bills, if to this text he sticks;
A dog of parts and have no puppy-tricks.-
Odzooks, I've loft his bufiuefs in his praise;
Oh!-here he's fent to guard his mafter's bays.
A dragon once, they fay, kept watch and ward,
Some curious golden fruit from thieves to guard.
So to protect the poet's fruit from riot,
Secure fome guineas, and a better diet,
He's fent this dragon, critics!-So be quiet.
Sharp then's the word, my flender-waifted cousins,

He'll fwallow macaronies by the dozens!

Growling, and fnarling,—don't let this dog catch ye,

At all your tearing-work he'll over-match ye;

If by ill-humours you our bard wou'd puzzle,

I've nothing elfe to do-but flip the muzzle!

Tho' you're fo high, [to the galleries,] you too he foon won'd tame Dragon has wings, if I but thow him game.

But fhou'd his mafter's fing-fong melt your foul,

He'll be as foft as-Signor Rofignol:

Will with harmonious howlings fwell each note,
And bark sweet mufic-only from his throat."

THREE

O!

A C T I.

Enter WOODLEY and DIMITY.

DIMITY.

Po polno fuch thing novice in tell you, Mr

Woodley, you are a mere novice in these affairs. Wood. Nay, but liften to reafon, Mrs Dimity-has not your master, Mr Drugget, invited me down to his country-feat, in order to give me his daughter Nancy in marriage; and with what pretence can he now break off?

Dim. What pretence

you put a body out of all

pa

patience-But go on your own way, Sir; my advice is all loft upon you.

Wood. You do me injuftice, Mrs Dimity-your advice has governed my whole conduct-Have not I

fixed an intereft in the young lady's heart?

Dim. An intereft in a fiddleftick!. -you ought to have made love to the father and mother-What, do you think the way to get a wife, at this time of day, is by fpeaking fine things to the lady you have a fancy for?

-That was the practice, indeed; but things are alter'd now-you must addrefs the old people, Sir, and never trouble your head about your miftrefs-None of your letters, and verses, and foft looks, and fine speeches.-"Have compaffion, thou angelic creature, on a poor "dying"-Pfha! ftuff! nonfenfe! all out of fashion, -Go your ways to the old curmudgeon; humour his whims I fhall efteem it an honour, Sir, to be allied "to a gentleman of your rank and taste.” Upon my "word, he's a pretty young gentleman."-Then wheel about to the mother: "Your daughter, Ma'am, is the very model of and I fhall adore her for your you, "fake." "Here, come hither, Nancy, take this "gentleman for better for worse." "La, mama, I "can never confent." "I fhould not have thought of "your confent-the confent of your relations is enough: "why, how now, huffey !" So away you go to church, the knot is tied, an agreeable honey-moon follows, the charm is then diffolv'd; you go to all the clubs in St James's Street; your lady goes to the Coterie; and in a little time you both go to the Doctor's Commons; and, if faults on both fides prevent a divorce, you'll quarrel like contrary elements all the reft of your lives: that's the way of the world now.

Wood. But you know, my dear Dimity, the old couple have received every mark of attention from me.

Dim. Attention! to be fure you did not fall afleep in their company; but what then?-You should have entered into their characters, play'd with their humours, and facrificed to their abfurdities.

Wood. But if my temper is too frank

Dim. Frank, indeed! yes, you have been frank enough to ruin yourself.-Have not you to do with a rich old

fhop