terminate the prospect, you know. That's a rule in taste, my lord! Lord Og. Very ingenious, indeed! For my part I desire no finer prospect than this I see before me. [Leering at the women.] Simple, yet varied; bounded, yet extensive — Get away, Canton! [Pushing away Canton.] I want no assistance - I'll walk with the ladies. CLANDESTINE MARRIAGE. CALISTA AND SCIOLTO. Cal. It is Sciolto! Be thyself, my soul; Sci. Thou wert once My daughter. Cal. Happy were it I had died, And never lost that name. Sci. That's something yet; Thou wert the very darling of my age: I thought the day too short to gaze upon thee, Why didst thou turn to folly, then, and curse me? Because my soul was rudely drawn from yours; A poor imperfect copy of my father; It was, because I lov'd, and was a woman. Sci. Hadst thou been honest, thou hadst been a cherubim; But of that joy, as of a gem long lost, Beyond redemption gone, think we no more. Hast thou e'er dar'd to meditate on death? Cal. I have, as on the end of shame and sorrow. Sci. Ha! answer me! Say, hast thou coolly thought? 'Tis not the stoic's lessons got by rote, The pomp of words, and pedant dissertations, Cal. I've turn'd my eyes inward upon myself, Sci. 'Tis justly thought, and worthy of that spirit, Cul. Then spare the telling, if it be a pain, Sci. Oh! truly guess'd-seest thou this trembling [Holding up a dagger. hand? Thrice justice urg'd—and thrice the slack'ning sinews And know the rest untaught. Cal. I understand you. It is but thus, and both are satisfied. [Giving the dagger. [She offers to kill herself: Sciolto catches hold of her arm. Sei. A moment; give me yet a moment's space. Sei. Oh! when I think what pleasure I took in thee, Then, lifting up my hands, and, wond'ring, bless'd thee; Thou art my daughter still. Cal. For that kind word, Thus let me fall, thus humbly to the earth, Ere little more than half his years are number'd. Sci. Cal. That I must die, it is my only comfort; And life without it were not worth our taking. Thou meagre shade; here let me breathe my last, More than if angels tun'd their golden viols, Sci. I'm summon'd hence; ere this my friends expect me. There is I know not what of sad presage, That tells me, I shall never see thee more; If it be so, this is our last farewell. And these the parting pangs, which nature feels, When anguish rends the heart-strings-Oh, my daughter! ROWE. LADY TOWNLY, MRS. TRUSTY, AND POUNDAGE. Mrs. T. Dear madam, what should make your ladyship so ill? Lady T. How is it possible to be well, where one is killed for want of sleep? Mrs. T. Dear me, it was so long before you rung, madam, I was in hopes your ladyship had been finely composed. Lady. T. Composed! why I have lain in an inn, here; this house is worse than an inn with ten stage-coaches; what between my lord's impertinent people of business in a morning, and the intolerable thick shoes of footrnen at noon, one has not a wink of sleep all night. Mrs. T. Indeed, madam, it's a great pity my lord can't be persuaded into the hours of people of quality -though I must say that, madam, your ladyship is certainly the best matrimonial manager in town. Lady T. Oh, you are quite mistaken, Trusty! I manage very ill! for, notwithstanding all the power I have, by never being over fond of my lord-yet I want money infinitely oftener than he is willing to give it me. Mrs. T. Ah! if his lordship could but be brought to play himself, madam, then he might feel what it is to want money. Oh, don't talk of it! do you know that I am Lady T. undone, Trusty ? Mrs. T. Mercy forbid, madam! Lady T. Broke, ruined, plundered! to a confiscation of my last guinea! Mrs. T. You don't tell me so, madam! stripped even And where to raise ten pounds in the world -What is to be done, Trusty? Mrs. T. Truly, I wish I were wise enough to tell you, madam; but may be your ladyship may have a run of better fortune upon some of the good company that comes here to night. Lady T. But I have not a single guinea to try my for tune. Mrs. T. Ha! that's a bad business, indeed, madam -Adad, I have a thought in my head, madam, if it is not too late Lady T. Out with it quickly then, I beseech thee. Mrs. T. Has not the steward something of fifty pounds, madam, that you left in his hands to pay somebody about this time. Lady T. Oh ay; I had forgot-'twas to a-what's his filthy name? Mrs. T. Now I remember, madam, 'twas to Mr. Lutestring, your old mercer, that your lady ship turned off about a year ago, because he would trust you no longer. Lady T. The very wretch! If he has not paid it, run quickly, dear Trusty, and bid him bring it hither immediately. [Exit Trusty.] Well, sure mortal woman never had such fortune! five, five and nine, against poor seven, for ever!-No, after that horrid bar of my chance-that lady Wronghead's fatal red fist upon the table, I saw it was impossible ever to |