MODERN ANTIQUES;

OR,

THE MERRY MOURNERS.

ACT I

SCENE I.

MRS. CAMOMILE's Houfe.

Enter MRS. CAMOMILE and BETTY.

MRS. CAMOMILE.

BETTY, any body here, fince?

Bet. No, Madam, but here's a ftrange Ser

vant.

Mrs. Cam. True, Mrs. Cockletop defired me as I paffed along Charing-Cross, to enquire for one for her at the Register-office.-Ha, ha, ha ! She's too fine a lady to look after these things herself.

Bet. Walk up, young man.

SS 2

[Exit Betty: Enter

Enter JOEY.

Joey. Sarvant. (nods)

Mrs. Cam. Quite a ruftic! How long have you been in Town?

Joey Our Town?

Mrs. Cam. London.

Joey, I thought as how you meant our Town, I com'd from Yerkfop, in the county of Nor folk, to get a place,

Mrs. Cam. Your name?
Joey. What of it?

Mrs. Cam. What is it?

Joey. Oh, my name is Joey; but volks call'd me Mr. Joey all the way up, thof I com❜d upon the Coach roof; for as it's near Chriftmas time, all the infide paffengers were Turkeys. I quit, ted our village in a huff with one Nan Holliday, my sweetheart; cause why, fhe got jealous and faucy given.

Mrs. Cam. The wages that this Lady gives to her footboy, are eight Guineas a year.

Joey. Guineas! that wo'n't do I muft have eight Pounds.

Mrs. Cam. Well, if you infift upon pounds, ha, ha, ha!

Joey. Oh, I'm hired. (lays his hat and stick on the table)

Mrs. Cam. You can give and take a meffage ? Joey. Yes, fure.

(A loud Knocking without.)

Mrs. Cam. Then let's fee? Run.

Joey. Where?

Mrs. Cam. To the door, you blockhead.

Joey. (goes to the room door and ftands) Well, I be's at the door-What now?

Mrs.

Mrs. Cam. Open the Street door.

Joey. Oh! (going) Here comes a Lady.

Mrs. Cam. Come up when you hear the bell. Joey. Thefe gentlefolks don't moind what trouble they give a poor zarvant man.

Mrs. Cam. Belinda!

Enter BELINDA.

[Exit.

Bel. My dear friend! I've quitted Southampton Boarding-fchool, without leave tho'.

Mrs. Cam. My fweet girl, I'm very glad to fee you; but is this a prudent ftep?

Bel. To be fure, when I was kept there fo long against my will, by my aunt.

Mrs. Cam. Ah Belinda, confefs the truth: wasn't it to fee your uncle's nephew Frank, that you have fcamper'd up to town?

Bel. Ha, ha, ha! 'Pon my honor, you're a witch: but fuppofe fo, why not? you and I were schoolfellows t'other day, yet, here you're married: but, apropos, how is your hufband?

Mrs. Cam. The Doctor is well.

Bel. You're already happy with the man you love, while I'm kept at a boarding-school; when I am able, even to teach my dancing-mafter.

Mrs. Cam. Why, my dear Belinda, fince your laft letter, I've been planning fchemes, how to make you happy with the man you love.

Bel. My good creature, do tell me?

Mrs. Cam. You know if your uncle Mr. Cockletop's tooth but aches, he fancies he'll die directly, if he hasn't my husband Dr. Camomile's advice; he's the grand oracle of his health, the Barometer and Thermometer of his animal fyftem. Now, as the Doctor is at Winchester on a vifit