ACT. I.

IN what a reſtleſs State have I paſs'd theſe few late Hours! My Fears of miſcarrying in the ne⯑ceſſary Attempt, join'd to the Charms of my fair In⯑ſtructreſs, have baniſh'd Sleep as far from my Eyes, as Poſſeſſion of the dear Object wou'd Sorrow from my Heart. What an unaccountable Revolution has this Girl cauſed in me! One Evening's Converſation has metamorphos'd me, from the avow'd Friend of Diſſipation and Riot, to an unalterable Advocate for Matrimony, domeſtic Pleaſures, pretty Children, and the main Chance.

Sir, Mr. Modely.

Shew him in.

What, Ned Gilbert, up and garter'd before Eleven! Why, what in the name of the Lark, makes you ſuch an early Riſer? Perhaps bad Wine and worſe Company had Charms ſufficient to rival your Pillow, and keep you up all Night.

Not ſo, upon my Honour. I went ſoberly to Reſt at Twelve; but my Pillow and I never agreed worſe: There was no Part of it cou'd pleaſe me. But, when I account for our Quarrel, you will cer⯑tainly indulge in a hearty Laugh. In ſhort, after I left you at George's I went to Ranelagh, where Townly introduc'd me to one of the moſt amiable, elegant, ſprightly, bewitching Females—that ever made Mortal melancholy.

But, Ned, I ſhou'd ſuppoſe her more than Mortal that cou'd make you ſo.

Never was Man ſo chang'd. I drew Townly aſide, made a ſhort Inquiry into her Family and Character; and, finding both unexceptionable, I made a formal Declaration of an honourable Paſſion; which the dear Girl receiv'd in a moſt eaſy, open, becoming Manner.

But, pray, did Townly introduce you by your real Name of Gilbert.

No, no—as Mr. George Heartly, the Name by which I paſs here at my Lodging: For he knows, [7]ſhou'd the News of my being from Oxford, reach Norfolk, the old Gentleman might be in the Pouts. But to proceed—She told me ſhe was generally cloſe confin'd by her Father, who was then in the Country on ſome Family Buſineſs; that Gold given to her Keeper had procur'd her a ſhort Jubilee that wou'd expire at her Father's Return, which was expected almoſt as ſoon as her's.

Oh provoking! Then you have ſeen your laſt of her, for a Time at leaſt.

Not ſo I hope neither. I am juſt going to viſit her in Maſquerade. If you will ſtep into the next Room with me, while I equip myſelf, I'll let you into our whole Plot.

I attend you.

Well, this is as ſtrange a Metamorphoſis as any in Ovid! but I believe it is only the Fore-runner of another. A Month's Poſſeſſion of the deſired Ob⯑ject, will convince him, however eaſily trapp'd, he is not long to be caged. Love, quotha! he has been as often in love, as he calls it, as I have been at ſhort Commons; and has changed his Mind much oftener, than I my Livery. I thought ſomething was gathering in the Wind when I let him in laſt Night. He was very eager to get to Bed too, which is never the Caſe, but when his Heart's full or his Purſe empty. I foreſee a World of Difficulty in this Buſi⯑neſs. So much the better—for, as he has but few Friends in Town, I muſt needs be a Party in the Plot—and when once I am deeply engag'd in the Secret—if I don't get well paid for keeping it, why then—But hold! Will that be honeſt? May be not —but 'twill be very convenient; and that's the firſt Thing to be conſider'd.

SCENE, a Chamber in Mr. Lockworth's Houſe.

My dear Lucy, ſtart no more Objections, for I am determined to be pleaſed with the Adven⯑ture. His Addreſs ſo eaſy! his Converſation ſo en⯑gaging! and when he made the wiſhed-for Declara⯑tion, it was attended with ſuch Openneſs, and, at the ſame Time, ſuch unaffected Delicacy, that I ſoon bad adieu to Reſerve, and gave him ample Leave to hope the beſt. I laid before nim the Difficulty of a Correſpondence — but at that Inſtant, Cupid, be thanked! I thought of an Expedient to introduce him. [9]I expect him preſently in the Diſguiſe of a foreign Tutor, lately recommended to my Father. If the real Maſter ſhould make his Appearance, we muſt employ my Gold, and your Smiles, upon that old Hypocrite Robin, and ſo get him diſmiſſed.

Well, Fortune favour us! Indeed, Madam, I am as impatient to gain my Liberty as you can be. I would not purchaſe it at the Price of leaving you in this Extremity; but I cannot pay myſelf ſo ill a Com⯑pliment, as to ſuppoſe, I am fit for nothing but to be immur'd in this Manner, and condemned to bear the Whims of your Father, and the odious Addreſſes of his ſuperannuated Privy Counſellor.

Courage Girl! we ſhall ſoon—Mum!

Sir, to tell you the Truth, my chief Travels, were a few Trips to the Weſt-Indies; where you may be ſure, I could not gain any great Knowledge of your polite Languages, or practice many of your Congès. But I take it for granted, as you are recommended by ſo ſenſible a Man as my Friend Lackland, you will ſoon make the promiſed Im⯑provements in my Daughter. Oh, here ſhe is! —

Mrs. Headſtrong, you may walk down. You make too good Uſe of your Clack already, to be truſted with any Language but your Mother Tongue.

Is dis de Lady, Sir, ſal be my Pupille?

Yes, Sir, And though I ſay it, my Girl don't want Parts, as you will find. I know my Pre⯑ſence is an Interruption to your Proceedings; ſo I ſhall go down Stairs, and leave you to make the beſt you can of her.

Well, Sir, you ſufficiently reliſh the Pro⯑ject, I find, to undertake it after a whole Night's Reflection.

That Night's Reflection, Madam, ſerved only to convince me, that I ſhould face Danger in this, or any Shape, to be admitted to your Preſence; and cheerfully ſubmit to any Change of Figure▪ to prove my Heart unalterable.

Alas, Sir, I well know Courtſhip and Honey⯑moon are gay, rapturous Seaſons; but conjugal Life has in it many a dull Winter Evening. And it often happens, after a few Weeks Poſſeſſion, the ſeem⯑ing conſtant, cooing Turtle, turns out a very libertine Sparw.

However, Sir, the Step I have taken muſt convince you, I am more than pleas'd with your Proteſtations; and will ſhortly, if our Plan ſucceeds, give you an Opportunity to prove their Sincerity.

But ſhould we be diſcover'd, ſay, will you, on the firſt Occaſion, bid adieu to your Priſon, and fly to Freedom and your Heartly?

That requires a Pauſe. Nor can I—Huſh, here's my Father.

Domine, I muſt beg Leave to break in upon you. I want to ſpeak with your Pupil on a Matter of ſome Moment; and ſhe muſt, by her Diligence on your next Viſit, endeavour to repair her Loſs in ſhort⯑ening this

—

—What a malicious Interruption! But there's no Remedy.—Adieu, Mademoiſelle! Mon⯑ſieur, Serviteur tres humble!

Serviteur, Domine!—Well, Celia, I have good News for thee; a Huſband in my Eye, my Girl! Heyday! what no Joy in thy Countenance? You think now I am going to ſpeak again in Favour of Sir Humphry Ringwood. No, no, this is a lively Lad, a fine young Fellow, a ſtripling of Fortunc.

The beſt Fortune, Sir, that can befall me, is the Gift of pleaſing you. And I hope a Refuſal of your preſent intended Kindneſs will not leſſen the Tenderneſs you have ever ſhewn me. The Gentle⯑man you mention, may be every Way worthy of a better Lot; but, as I am yet a Stranger to him and his Qualifications, I cannot be ſudden in my Determi⯑nation.

I tell you what, Celia; you may have Rhe⯑toric, but I have Power. Mr. Trapwell is below, who will let you into the whole Affair. I deſire you will come down to us immediately. I ſhall not ſay more to you at preſent, becauſe I wou'd not have you appear chagrin'd; but mark me, Celia; I will be obey'd.

You will be obey'd! I will be pleaſed. Ay, but how? Marry, by following my own Inclinations, What, in Spite of Locks, Bolts, and Suſpicion? Yes, in Spite of every Thing. Love can ſurmount, as well as create Difficulties.

Nay, prithee, Ned, don't be peeviſh; the old Gentleman's Entrance was a little Mal a-propos, to be ſure; but you have been addmitted without Suſpicion, and under Favour of your Diſguiſe may renew your Viſit.

But not immediately; and an Hour's Ab⯑ſence ſeems Eternity. Oh, Frank!—

Nay, nay, keep your Raptures for your Miſtreſs—Common Senſe will content me. Has your Fellow, Smatter, told you the News?

News! What News?

Nay, 'tis not of the agreeable Kind, I pro⯑miſe you. He met one of your Father's Servants this Morning.

In Town?

Yes; but the Dog was arch enough to tell the Clodpole, you had diſcharged him; ſo he has no Suſpicion of your being in London: But the worſt is to come. In ſhort, your Father is on the Road in his Way hither.

'Sdeath! you alarm me! But no Matter. If he does not take it in his Head to pay a Viſit to Oxford, I am ſafe ſtill. I'm on Thorns to know what that Buſineſs of Conſequence was, that the old Hunks wanted to open to his Daughter.

Pray, does your Uneaſineſs proceed from Curioſity or Jealouſy? May be a Compound of both. I hear he was lately very urgent with her in behalf of a Country Baronet.

Who? O! Sir Humphry Ringwood.—Ay, ſhe gave me a ſhort Hiſtory of that Affair laſt Night. If I had no other Obſtacle, I ſhou'd have very little Doubt of Succeſs.

Sir, here's a Letter for you.

From whence?

Celia Lockworth! Bleſſing on the Hand! Now for the Contents.

So, I am my own Rival at laſt! A very whimſical Circumſtance!

A very lucky one, I think; for now you have nothing to do, but to make an immediate Diſ⯑covery of your Situation to the old Fellow, and the Affair will undoubtedly take a favourable Turn.

I am not very clear in that. What you mention might produce the deſir'd Effect, if I had not appear'd before him in my borrow'd Shape, which you are ſenſible muſt make a Part of the Ex⯑planation: And who knows but ſuch a Step may, in his Eyes, give me too much the Air of an Adven⯑turer, and lead him to make Inquiries, which, you know, will not be at all convenient: Nay, he may think it neceſſary to conſult my Father; and, if in the End it ſhould not prove agreeable to my old Gentleman, I ſhall repent my frank Confeſſion, as it will undoubtedly deprive me of all future Oppor⯑tunities of viſiting Celia in my feign'd Character; and I am determin'd not to give her up.

What you ſay is very true: Nay, perhaps, ſhe too may think you have dealt rather indirectly, and have her Suſpicions.

None, but what a Quarter of an Hour's Converſation will remove—But, how to gain that? Egad, I have a Thought.—Suppoſe I make my Raſcal Smatter, perſonate me. He may find a thouſand Ways of introducing himſelf. This will, at leaſt, give me an Opportunity of conveying the Situation of Affairs in a Letter to the dear Girl. Nay, perhaps, procure her Liberty; which, if ſhe makes a proper Uſe of, we'll put the finiſhing Stroke to the Affair, before the Return of my Oxford Friend, Trapwell: And when my Father arrives, the three old Fellows [15]may lay their wiſe Heads together, and make the beſt on't.

But is Smatter equal to the Undertaking?

O, the Dog's intelligent enough. Smatter!

Sir.

I think, Smatter, you are well furniſh'd as to Aſſurance.

Yes, Sir, pretty well.

Manage it properly, and it may be of im⯑mediate Service. Do you think you can make a tolerable Shift to perſonate me?

You, Sir?

Yes, Sir, me—me—myſelf.

Which Self do you mean, Sir? Your mad Self, or your tame Self? That is, am I to repre⯑ſent the gay Mr. Gilbert of St. John's College, or the diſcreet Mr. Heartly of London?

Sirrah, you are to be Mr. Gilbert of Oxford. As to the Gaiety or Sobriety of your Behaviour, that you muſt vary as Occaſion ſhall require.

Sir, I'll undertake it, if I'm properly ſup⯑ply'd.

Oh, you ſhall have a Suit of Cloaths of mine.

Nothing elſe, Sir?

O, yes, every Thing ſuitable.

I ſhall never come through, Sir, if my Pockets are empty. You know, Sir, I am not of a mercenary Diſpoſition: But as I am to be your Repreſentative, I wou'd, for your Sake, be as like you as poſſible in every Particular.

Well, Sir, you ſhall be ſupply'd with Caſh too. While I write a Letter, do you get your⯑ſelf ready, and then I'll give you further Inſtruc⯑tions.

So, Celia, are you ſtill enamour'd of your Priſon? or, will you purchaſe Liberty at the eaſy Price of obeying my Commands?

What, Sir, conſent to make a blind Bargain? Give an abſolute Promiſe to wed a Man, neither you nor I have ſeen, meerly becauſe—

Ay, becauſe 'tis my Pleaſure.—Now con⯑vince me it will not pleaſe me, and I'll give up the Conteſt,

Sir, there's a young Gentleman below en⯑quires for you.

What Sort of a Gentleman?

Well dreſs'd, Sir; but I believe he's a little light i'the Head.

Shew him up

Do you re⯑tire, Mrs. Diſobedience.

I muſt find ſome Method to remove this Girl's Obſtinacy before my Friend Trapwell's Return, or we ſhall be forc'd to—

Sir, your very humble Servant; your Com⯑mands with me?

Sir, your moſt obedient.—I beg Pardon for the Intruſion.—Pray, Sir, will you inform me where I can meet Mr. Trapwell of Oxford? I have ſome particular Buſineſs with him, and was told I ſhou'd ſee, or at leaſt here of him here.

Sir, he is ſet out for Colcheſter; but I am ac⯑qainted with moſt of his Concerns, and, perhaps, may ſerve the Turn on this Occaſion. May I crave your Name, Sir?

Gilbert, Sir, at your Service.

Of Oxford?

Of Oxford.

O Fortune! the very Man!

by my Troth, a ſightly One too!—a little of the Coxcomb; but his Money will excuſe that.—Sir, I have heard my Friend mention you with great Reſpect.

I am beholden to him, Sir, on many Occa⯑ſions, but ſingularly ſo in this; as you are a Perſon, whoſe good Opinion I particularly ſtand in Need of, Sir, I ſhall freely communicate — I have lately been favoured with a Glance or two from a fair Eye, poſted in one of your Windows. I am told the Lady is ſo happy to be your Daughter; and I flatter my⯑ſelf, it may not be the ſinalleſt Part of her good For⯑tune, that ſhe is the Object of my Affections.

Better and better—a little vain—but he'll have a fine Fortune. Sir, I muſt tell you, I ho⯑nour you for the Openneſs of your Diſpoſition; and ſhall give you a Proof of the Frankneſs of mine. In ſhort, Sir, you was the laſt Subject of our Converſa⯑tion. [18]In the Warmth of our Diſcourſe my Friend declar'd, that he, as knowing your, and, let me ſay my Daughter's good Qualities, wiſh'd an Union — But the Girl had her Doubts—

That ſhe ſhou'd not be agreeable to me— poor Soul!—that's ſettled now I have ſeen her. But, Sir, give me Leave to eaſe her Fears, by perſo⯑nally informing her of my total Devotion to the Shrine of her Beauty.

I ſhall not attempt to enhance the Worth of my Girl, by a ſcrupulous Obſervance of Forms; but will, with little Ceremony, introduce you: Yet, Sir, you muſt not be alarm'd, as my Daughter has a cer⯑tain Shyneſs, if ſhe ſhou'd, at the firſt Onſet, retreat, or refuſe your Addreſſes.

Sir, I beg your Pardon—but I muſt either ſuppoſe you think the Ladies what they were in your Great Grandmother's Days, or that your Daughter has been uſed to converſe only with Country Curates, and not with any of the Beaux Eſpirits.

ACT II.

LUCY!

Sir?

Where's your Miſtreſs?

Troth, Sir, like a pounded Horſe, juſt where you left her.

Huſſy, ſo is your Tongue, and yet I dare ſay that has been going ever ſince. Sir, I'll bring my Daughter to you immediately

Egad, a ſmart looking Wench! I wou'd give a Trifle to know whether ſhe is, or is not of her Miſ⯑treſs's Counſel. Well, Child, do you know that I intend ſhortly to make your Miſtreſs the happieſt Wo⯑man in Europe?

Sir, I don't doubt your Intention. I ſhall only ſay, the beſt Markſman may ſometimes miſs his Aim.

May he ſo, Mrs. Random?—There's ſome⯑thing in this Girl that pleaſes me; and, to talk in her own Style—tho' I came hither to ſhoot at the Pigeon, I ſhou'd have no Objection to killing the Crow.

Look ye, Celia, here he is; and as you hope to receive your Fortune, or my Bleſſing, treat him as the Perſon I approve.

You are deſcended, Madam, as I perceive, from a Gentleman of a moſt frank and amiable Diſ⯑poſition; and I make no doubt you inherit the Virtues of your Sire. I therefore conclude, Madam, all Fi⯑neſſe, Altercation, or Circumlocution, abſolutely un⯑neceſſary. I have frankly told your Father of thoſe kind Glances and Leers of Invitation you beſtowed on me, your Knight, from your inchanted Caſtle. I have alſo undertaken to relieve you, a diſtreſſed Damſel, and to conclude the Adventure by a ſpeedy Conſum⯑mation of our Nuptials.

Sir, I am not ſufficiently read in Romances, to anſwer you in your own Style, but muſt declare—

Declare! Declare what? Oh, that you can⯑not ſpeak your Mind before your Father!—Pray, Sir, allow a little to her maiden Shyneſs, and my native Modeſty, and leave us a little to ourſelves.

I will, I will. Celia, remember, Child, he'll have a vaſt Fortune.

Madam, as Time is precious, you will excuſe me, if I am a little abrupt. I am no Gilbert of Ox⯑ford; but Servant to your Lover and Language Maſter, by whom I am commiſſioned to deliver this Letter, which will inform you at large of the State of our Affairs.

If what you ſay is Truth, I ſhall look on you as my better Angel. I'll retire to read the Letter, leſt my Father ſhould return and catch me with it.

Do ſo, Madam. If he comes I'll find ſome Way to detain him. But, Madam, one Word before you go.—Is your Maid to be truſted?

Ay, with my Life; ſhe knows the whole Affair.

Say you ſo? Nay, if you can truſt her with your Life, I may run the Riſque of truſting her with my Perſon.—Let me ſee—

I long to know what Entertainment ſhe'll give the Spark. Odſo! What has ſhe left him to bemoan his hapleſs Fate already. Nay, then I may appear.

Sir, I beg Pardon, where's my Lady?

What, here again! By my Soul, Child, your Lady's gone; but you were preſent when abſent. In ſhort, you do and will engroſs my Thoughts: I can only ſay, I am not what I ſeem—But ſeem what I may, I am and will be yours.

Hey day! What Time of the Moon's this?

By Heaven 'tis true! Or may you diſcover me and get me toſs'd in a Blanket—Mum! here comes the old Gentleman.

Ha! Celia gone! Affairs here wear but an indifferent Aſpect. Well, Sir, how have you thriven?

Thriven! to my Wiſh, Sir. The Queſtion is an Affront to me and my Qualifications.

Sir, I beg Pardon of you and your Qualifica⯑tions. But have you got my Daughter's Conſent.

Pretty near, Sir: I have offered her ſome Arguments that have ſtagger'd her Reſolution. I believe ſhe is gone to conſider of them, and will re⯑turn immediately.

Ods my Life! thou art a pretty forward, thriving Fellow, and I wiſh thee Joy! I'll go fetch the young Baggage.

What, ſolicit my Lady! Deceive her and her Father! pretended Love to me! Why you are a meer Riddle.

Say no more. At preſent I am and muſt be a Riddle; but your Lady will expound me. In the mean time—d'ye hear, Child, behave with all due Deference to me and my Dignity.

What can I ſay, Sir? Should I declare this Gentleman my Choice, I ſhou'd deceive both him and you. But, as a Debt to Duty, I promiſe I will endeavour to ſuit my Affections to your Will, I am his, if you command me ſo to be.

Victoria! Victoria! Ah, Celia, Celia! Thou haſt made me happy.—And now, young Gentle⯑man, there needs only your Father's Conſent, and ſuch a Settlement as my Daughter deſerves, and then ſhe's yours without Reſerve.

Conſent and Settlement! Oh the Devil! This is a Scene left out of my Part: But the Plot ſhan't ſtand ſtill.

Why do you muſe, Sir! This cannot long poſtpone your Happineſs, as I know your Father, Sir Ralph. is ſhortly to be in Town.

Shortly to be in Town! Why, Sir, he's in Town already; he arriv'd laſt Night; and I'll ſhew you the honeſteſt old Fellow in Chriſtendom, Sir, I'd have you to know, tho' youngeſt, I'm the Head of the Family; and the old Gentleman knows his Duty better than to contradict me, But I know, a⯑mong you Antiques, there's nothing like Proof poſi⯑tive; ſo I will immediately produce him and his Conſent.

I long for 'em—I long for 'em! And I dare ſay, for all her demure Look, my Daughter longs for 'em too.

No Doubt on't—no Doubt on't.—Adieu, ma Princeſſe! but for a Time, my Love, adieu!

Egad, thou'it a pretty Fellow!

Now, Sir, remember what I told you, and take my Word another Time.

Wherever I go, &c.

how beats your Pulſe? Any News from Smatter yet?

No, I did not expect any material Occurence in ſo ſhort a Time. I have juſt had a Conference with my Landlord. As Serjeant Kite ſays, I have been oblig'd to let him into the Secret for the Sake of keeping it ſo.

[Oh, by the Importance of the Signal it can be no leſs a Per⯑ſon than my other Self. I long to know what the Raſ⯑cal has done.

Dear Frank Modely, yours' Odſo, t'other Gilbert here! then I muſt reſign my Conſequence with my Name.

Come, Sir, a Truce with your Foolery, and let me know what you have done.

The beſt I cou'd Sir.

Sirrah! that's no Anſwer!

Why then, Sir, in the firſt place, I eaſily in⯑troduc'd myſelf: In the ſecond place I deliver'd your Letter—No, no, that's wrong.—In the ſecond Place, I quitted my mock Character, and fell really and vi⯑olently in Love.

Why, you impudent, raſcally—

With the Maid, Sir—with the Maid! Lord, you are ſo choloric you won't hear one out! In the next Place, as I was ſaying, I deliver'd your Letter.— The Plot was unravell'd—and now there is but a Tri⯑ſle wanting.

What's that?

Only your Father's Conſent of the Wed⯑ding.

And, you bungling Blockhead, how is that to bo obtain'd?

Why, not at all, Sir. But we may continue the Cheat, and produce a falſe Father, as well as a mock Son. I told old Lockworth my Father was in Town; that I was ſecure of his Conſent, and wou'd preſently return with him in my Hand. Now, Sir, we have but this one caſt for it—The Metamor⯑phoſis muſt be general. Mr. Modely by the Help of a full Wig, and other neceſſary Marks of Gravity, muſt perſonate your or my Father, call him which you will, and the Buſineſs may be ſoon accom⯑pliſh'd.

Dear Modely, how do you re'iſh this wild Expedient?

Faith, Ned, I cannot anſwer for my Abili⯑ties—But, as to my Will, 'tis at your Service without Heſitation: And ſo let us immediately make the ne⯑ceſſary Preparation.

But, Madam, don't be ſo ſevere upon me. Unleſs you ſuppoſe Prudence always attends Poverty, why ſhould you wonder that I am frail, when you have prov'd yourſelf ſo? What is there more amaz⯑ing at my being ſmitten with the Man at firſt Sight, than your immediately conceiving a Paſſion for the Maſter?

Why, I muſt own, the whole of the Adven⯑ture ſavours rather more of the Romantic than the Prudent; but if the Cataſtrope is crown'd with Suc⯑ceſs, no Matter for the Time or Manner of its Com⯑mencement.

Love the Victor! O dear Madam, he has been victorious ever ſince the Creation. Indeed 'tis a Part of Prudence to take the ſtrongeſt Side; and, for my Part, I'm determin'd not to liſt under any other Banner.

Nay, Girl, we are both Volunteers in the Service; and tho' we have not as yet taken the Oaths, we have gone too far to retreat. I am willing to keep up my Spirits, by hoping the beſt; but am afraid this Father's Conſent, which my old Gentle⯑man ſo unfortunately chop'd upon, will prove an un⯑ſurmountable Difficulty.

Be of good Heart, Madam. My Strephon whiſper'd me as he went out, that he had an Expe⯑dient to ſet all right.

Ha, ha, ha! well ſaid! Ay, ay, I was juſt ſuch another at his Years. But where? where is ſhe? where is my Boy's Choice—my Daughter that i [...] to be?

Here, Sir, at your Service — Advance, my little Roſe-bud.

Oh, hoh! the young Dog has a Hawk's Eye. —Ay, ay, a true Gilbert. Ned! Ned! Sirrah! If I'm not ſoon made a Grandfather I ſhall diſown you. Well, but Mr. Lockworth! Brother Lockworth! I muſt inſiſt on having this Marriage conſummated in Norfolk. I ſhall ſet off, and make Preparation; I'll keep open Houſe, the whole Country ſhall be drunk for a Month. Heyboys! Up we go! Ha, ha, ha! But come, Maſter Lockworth, ſome Mirth, ſome Bu⯑ſineſs.—We'll take the young Couple to my Son's Lodging, from whence I'll ſend to my Lawyer, do call on yours, and bring him with you; he ſhall draw a ſhort Memorandum of our Agreement, the Writings may then be engroſs'd at large, do you bring 'em down with you, and we'll execute 'em on the Spot.

With all my Heart. But, Sir Ralph, is there an abſolute Neceſſity for your going ſo ſoon? Can't you ſpare us a little of your Company here in London?

No, no, Maſter Lockworth; buſy Time— buſy Time — much to be done. And if my Boy Ned is not impatient, he's not of the Blood of the Gilberts. Come, you lucky young Dog, lead off your Prize in Triumph, and Brother Lockworth and I will bring up the Rear.

Your Pardon, Sir Ralph, I muſt firſt Search for a few Papers, to take with me to old Double⯑tongue's Chambers; but I'll be with you in leſs than an Hour.

So be it. On with you, my Turtles. Bro⯑ther-Father good b'wye to you.

And ſo you ſay you ſaw that hang Dog his Man in Town here?

Yes, Sir; but a'told me a didn't live wi young Meaſter now—but was minded to be a Gen⯑tleman his Self.

Art! all Art! a confounded Lye, Roger. The young 'Scape Grace is in Town as well as his Scoundrel Valet. The Spendthriſt has run a rare Race at Oxford, and is now come to try his Speed in London; but I ſhall ſtop him in his Career. Fine Doings indeed! I have ſeen my old Friend and Cor⯑reſpondent, Mr. Trapwell of Oxford—I met him at Chelmsford, and he has let me into the whole Story —I believe the Devil's in the young Fellows now a Days, for my Part.

Laud, Sir! what's to be done? You'll ne⯑ver find young Meaſter in this great Town withawt you have'n cry'd.

Soft and fair, Roger — before I catch this wild Colt, I'll find a proper Halter to ſecure him.

Halter! Zure, Sir, you wou'dn't think o'having young 'Squire hang'd.

Hang'd! no; but I'll get him married, and that may do as well. Mr. Trapwell tells me of a Niece of his here in London, a diſcreet, pretty Wench. I'll pay a Viſit to her Father, and if ſhe anſwers his Account of her, I'll cure my young Gentleman of rambling, or cut him off with a Shil⯑ling.

But, my dear Celia, why do you doubt me?

Nay, mine are Fears indeed, that ought not to be indulg'd. As I've quitted my Caſtle, and delivered myſelf into the Hands of the Conqueror; 'tis the moſt politic Way to pique him into a Gene⯑roſity, by ſeeming to rely on it.

My dear, diffident Girl, believe me you have nothing to dread. My Honour is pledg'd, and my Conduct ſhall be ſuch as ſhall immediately de⯑prive you of the leaſt Right to doubt or complain.

Is Mr. Lockworth at home, Sir?

Yes, Sir.

If he is at Leiſure, I ſhou'd be glad to ſpeak to him.

My Maſter's here, Sir.

Your Servant, Sir! Your Buſineſs with me, pray?

Sir I was deſir'd to call here, to diſcourſe with you on a Matter of ſome Conſequence, by my Friend and your Relation, Mr. Trapwell. I met him at Chelmsford, in his Way to Colcheſter. He told me he ſhould return in a few Days, and in the mean Time, his Name wou'd be a ſufficient Paſſport for me to you and your worthy Family.

Sir, I ſhall at all Times be glad to pay proper Regard to my Friend's Recommendation; but I have a Matter of Moment in Hand, and muſt beg the Favour of ſeeing you in the Morning.

With all my Heart, Sir: But in the Inte⯑rim, Sir—Pardon an old Fellow's Importunity—will you indulge me with a Sight of your fair Daughter? For, to be free, my Viſit is chiefly to her.

Then, Sir, to be as free—My Daughter is at preſent engaged in a Way, that to her m [...]ſt be more agreeable than entertaining either to you or me. In ſhort, Sir, ſhe is with her Lover—And I am now going to my Lawyer with theſe Papers, in order to prepare the neceſſary Articles of Marriage.

Say you ſo, Sir? O then my Hopes are at an End.

Why, pray, Sir, had you Hopes of marrying my Daughter?

Not I, indeed, Sir, but I had Thoughts of recommending a Son.

Sir, 'tis too late; my Girl's diſpos'd of.

Pray, Sir—not to be too troubleſome—On whom have you beſtow'd this Jewel?

Sir, I have beſtow'd her, if ſo you term it, on Mr. Gilbert, Son of one Sir Ralph Gilbert of Nor⯑folk.

Hey dey! But, Sir, don't you think you would have ſhewn a little more Prudence, by wait⯑ing 'till you had obtain'd his Father's Conſent?

Sir, I hope you don't think me an Ideot. I had the Father's Conſent.

The Devil you had! Pray, Sir, how did you get it, and when?

Sir, you are very free in your Enquiries. But as to your How, I promiſe you I did not extort it; and as to your When, I ſay, within this Hour. His Son brought him here; and he ſeem'd as eager for the Match as either of the young Couple.

Why, Sir, either you or I muſt be in a Dream. I never was with you before.

Sir, I don't pretend to ſay you was. But, pray, Sir, may I crave your Name.

Sir, I am Sir Ralph Gilbert of Norfolk.

How.

Yes, ſo he is; and I'll ſwear it.

Say you ſo! I begin to fear ſome Trick. Within there!

Run to Mr. Gilbert's Lodging, and deſire him and my Daughter to come hither inſtantly—

Sir, have you any Proof you are the true Sir Ralph Gilbert?

Not about me, Sir. But I can ſupport my Aſſertion by the Teſtimony of many Perſons of Cre⯑dit here in Town. But, Sir, if there is any Trick on the Carpet, I hope I am arriv'd ſoon enough to prevent the Execution of it. Perhaps you are no more ſecure as to the Identity of my Son's Perſon than mine.

Really, Sir, I am at a Loſs what to ſay —but it will ſoon be explain'd, for here comes my Mr. Gilbert.

Say you ſo! On my Word, Sir, you may claim him when you pleaſe; I ſhall never diſpute the Property.

Mr. Lockworth, your moſt devoted! Your Servant tells me you are in ſome Diſorder; and as I now look upon myſelf as a Part of the Family, I ſhall do every Thing in my Power to promote its Tranquillity.

Hold, hold! ha!—No.—Yes it is that very Raſcal his Man. Pray, Sir, where is your hope⯑ful Maſter?

Sirrah, anſwer me. Where have you left your intended Bride?

My intended Bride! Sir, you muſt think very ſtrangely of me to believe, that I, who have not been ten Minutes married to a firſt Wife, ſhould have already caſt my Eye on a Second.

Why, are you then faſt married?

I am, Sir, Thanks to the Prieſt, the La⯑dy's Inclination, and my own Induſtry.

Undone! Undone!

Oh, now the Riddle's out! this Fellow has taken my Son's Name upon him, and all his Freaks and Irregularities have been laid at poor Ned's Door. I have been cenſuring my poor Boy's Conduct, as an Idler here in London, while he has been cloſely purſuing his Studies at the Univerſity. But, ſweet Sir, let me have the Satisfaction of ſeeing the Lady you have ſo much honoured.

Here ſhe comes, Sir.

—Sir, I hope you'll ſavour us with your good Wiſhes at leaſt.

What! what Mockery is this?

No Mockery, Sir, 'tis Reality.—This is my Bride.

Is this true, Lucy?

Even ſo, Sir. I once in my Life forgot my good Manners, and took the Lead of my Bet⯑ters.

I am ſtill in a Cloud! Where's my Daugh⯑ter?

With her Huſband, Sir.

She married too! To whom, pray?

To a Perſon recommended by your Friend, Mr. Lackland. The worthy Language-Maſter, Sir.

How's this!

As I tell you, Sir; and here they come.

Ah, Celia, Celia!

Hey! how! Ned! why 'tis Ned!— Sirrah, explain yourſelf—What do you mean by theſe Vagaries?

Why, Sir Ralph, do you know Domine?

Domine! What do you mean by Domine? This is my Boy Ned.

How, Sir Ralph! Is this really your Son?

I hope ſo. I am ſure I can anſwer for my Wife's Part in him at leaſt, But. Sirrah. Ned how durſt you take this irregular Trip from Oxford, and trump up a Marriage without my Conſent?

Dear Sir Ralph, let him account for that at Leiſure this is no Time for Wrangling. By the Beginning of your Converſation, I am convinc'd the Match cannot be diſagreeable to you: And, for my Part, I am ſo well pleas'd to find my Daughter has been led by Chance, to the Perſon my cooleſt Judg⯑ment wou'd have choſen, that I ſhall bury in Oblivion all Thoughts of the Intent, and make myſelf happy by reflecting on the pleaſing Conſequence.

Sir, I knew, ſome Time before this Affair came to a Criſis, this was the Gentleman you in⯑tended for me; but ſome Circumſtances that attended our firſt Converſe, made an Explanation wholly im⯑proper. Depend on't, Sir, though I might not have implicitly obey'd your Commands, by taking whom⯑ſoever you pleas'd to recommend, yet my Duty would not have ſuffer'd an Union with any Perſon, whoſe Character or Conduct could give you the leaſt Offence.

You fooliſh wiſe Baggage, hold your Tongue, and don't attempt to mend Things when they are at the beſt.

On my Word, Sir, I am afraid I'm at the [34]beſt, and yet I want mending. We all know what we are, but none of us know what we may be, as my Friend Shakeſpeare has it. I hope, Sir,

there will need no great Rhetoric to per⯑ſwade you to forgive my being concern'd in a Plot, the Cataſtrophe of which has turn'd out ſo much to the Satisfaction of all Parties. And, Sir,

All I aſk of you as a Reward for my trifling Services, is, that Spouſy and I may remain as followers of your good Fortunes, and be daily Witneſſes of the Happineſs we have endeavour'd to promote.

I am bound to you; and ſhall have a Pleaſure in making the Return you wiſh. Now, my dear Celia, our Happineſs is complete; and, don't think much of my Preſumption, when I venture to declare it laſting.