mous parafite-your confidential favourite, your Valet, counteracted the rectitude of your intentions, by embezzling the fums he had for purposes dictated by duty and nature. Oh! why will thofe who poffefs the godlike power of doing good, delegate a bafe, unworthy agent, for the kind purposes of humanity. Enter SIR HANS, DICKINS, GEORGE, and Au GUSTA. Sir H. Here, boy, take Augufta. (advancing). Arthur. (advancing) Thank ye, Sir Hans! (takes ber band) Sir H. Thank ye, indeed, for that! George, will you lofe your wife fo? George. I've one ready at hand-father, with your leave and her own confent. Enter FANNY, and TIMOLIN, at the back. Dick. To be fure, I confent-and we all confent. Fanny. Oh! yes! we all confent-my dear governefs, are you going to be married? It feems I'm going to be married. He, he, he! eh George? Sir H. To fee my fon taken before my face, with an he, he, he! s'blood, fir! let the girl go, he, he, he, indeed. Dick. Then I discover your tricks, Sir, oh, oh, oh! indeed!-Madam, (to Augufta) no matter what he fays-you are ftill heiress to your uncle Woodbine's fortune. Throw it into my bank, chufe me your guardien, I'll recover—I'll fend Sir Nob a fheet of cracklin ramfkin, that fball fhall reach from Chancery-lane, to Weftminsterhall. Augufta. Well, even fo the property of the mother fhould devolve to the fon, and to him I refign it. Arthur. No! fooner than take it from you, my generous coufin, Timolin and I will buffet the world again—and, rather than commit further depredations on honeft tradefmen, I'll turn to any thing, any one thing in life, except a Poet. Where are you old Bargatrot Caftle? Timolin. I'm here, your honor, dead or alive -we'll jump into our boots, before they're bought-away, mafter! I'm your man, thro' thick and thin, fire and fmoke. Arthur. I could force myfélf to accept this fortune- that is, with a certain fweet'ner-Will you, my Augufta, accompany it? Augufta. Then, Sir, for paltry gold, you'd quit your love! oh! fie! Sir H. Devil's in you, child! I was only joking about the girl over the hock, to make you marry George. (Arthur kiffes her hand.) Lord Tor. Why, this is right. Lady Torrendel, your unexampled liberality will reclaim me. into a husband and a father.-My boy, were bleflings mine, you should have one from me. Timolin. Then, as you're not worth a bleffing, fhow'r a bundle of yellow-boys upon us both. Dick. A good motion, throw them into my bank.-Eh! is that Monfieur fhaking his ears like a water dog? (looking out) Arthur. My Lord, father, and you most adored Augufta, if I am deftined to affluence, here is is my model, (to George) who can forego the comforts of life to bestow its neceffaries on the indigent! Sir H. Why, my moft magnificent Arthur, I thought you were to be George's model, and that like you he'd have grace enough, to play the devil. Arthur. So he fhall-we'll kick Care out of the window, our abode fhall be the House of Joy, and the first card of invitation shall be, to the Man of Sorrow. My faults how great! but as no foft'ring care |