The clandestine marriage: a comedy. As it is acted at the Theatre-Royal in Drury-Lane. By George Colman and David Garrick.

ACT I.

SCENE A room in Sterling's house.

Miss Fanny and Betty meeting.

Betty

running in.

MA'am! Miss Fanny! Ma'am!

Fanny.

What's the matter! Betty!

Betty.

Oh la! Ma'am! as sure as I'm alive, here is your husband—

Fanny.

Hush! my dear Betty! if any body in the house should hear you, I am ruined.

Betty.

Mercy on me! it has frighted me to such a degree, that my heart is come up to my mouth.—But as I was a saying, Ma'am, here's that dear, sweet—

Fanny.

Have a care! Betty.

Betty.

Lord! I'm bewitched, I think.—But as I was a saying, Ma'am, here's Mr. Lovewell just come from London.

Fanny.

Indeed!

Betty.

Yes, indeed, and indeed, Ma'am, he is. I saw him crossing the court-yard in his boots.

Fanny.

I am glad to hear it.—But pray now, my dear Betty, be cautious. Don't mention that word

again, on any account. You know, we have agreed never to drop any expressions of that sort for fear of an accident.

Betty.

Dear Ma'am, you may depend upon me. There is not a more trustier creature on the face of the earth, than I am. Though I say it, I am as se|cret as the grave—and if it's never told, till I tell it, it may remain untold till doom's-day for Betty.

Fanny.

I know you are faithful—but in our circum|stances we cannot be too careful.

Betty.

Very true, Ma'am!—and yet I vow and protest, there's more plague than pleasure with a se|cret; especially if a body mayn't mention it to four or five of one's particular acquaintance.

Fanny.

Do but keep this secret a little while longer, and then, I hope you may mention it to any body.—Mr. Lovewell will acquaint the family with the nature of our situation as soon as possible.

Betty.

The sooner, the better, I believe: for if he does not tell it, there's a little tell-tale, I know of, will come and tell it for him.

Fanny.

Fie, Betty!

[blushing.

Betty.

Ah! you may well blush.—But you're not so sick, and so pale, and so wan, and so many qualms—

Fanny.

Have done! I shall be quite angry with you.

Betty.

Angry!—Bless the dear puppet! I am sure I shall love it, as much as if it was my own.—I meant no harm, heaven knows.

Fanny.

Well—say no more of this—It makes me uneasy—All I have to ask of you, is to be faithful and secret, and not to reveal this matter, till we disclose it to the family ourselves.

Betty.

Me reveal it!—if I say a word, I wish I may be burned. I wou'd not do you any harm for the world—And as for Mr. Lovewell, I am sure I have loved the dear gentleman ever since he got a tide|waiter's place for my brother—But let me tell you both, you must leave off your soft looks to each

other, and your whispers, and your glances, and your always sitting next to one another at dinner, and your long walks together in the evening—For my part, if I had not been in the secret, I shou'd have known you were a pair of loviers at least, if not man and wife, as—

Fanny.

See there now! again. Pray be careful.

Betty.

Well—well—nobody hears me.—Man and wife—I'll say so no more—what I tell you is very true for all that—

Lovewell.

[calling within.]

William!

Betty.

Hark! I hear your husband—

Fanny.

What!

Betty.

I say, here comes Mr. Lovewell—Mind the caution I give you—I'll be whipped now, if you are not the first person he sees or speaks to in the family—However, if you chuse it, it's nothing at all to me—as you sow, you must reap—as you brew, so you must bake.—I'll e'en slip down the back-stairs, and leave you together.

[Exit.

Fanny alone.

I see, I see I shall never have a moment's ease till our marriage is made publick. New distresses croud in upon me every day. The sollicitude of my mind sinks my spirits, preys upon my health, and destroys every comfort of my life. It shall be revealed, let what will be the consequence.

Enter Lovewell.

Lovew.

My love!—How's this?—In tears?—Indeed this is too much. You promised me to sup|port your spirits, and to wait the determination of our fortune with patience.—For my sake, for your own, be comforted! Why will you study to add to our uneasiness and perplexity?

Fanny.

Oh, Mr. Lovewell! the indelicacy of a secret marriage grows every day more and more shock|ing to me. I walk about the house like a guilty wretch: I imagine myself the object of the suspicion

of the whole family; and am under the perpetual terrors of a shameful detection.

Lovew.

Indeed, indeed, you are to blame. The amiable delicacy of your temper, and your quick sensibility, only serve to make you unhappy.—To clear up this affair properly to Mr. Sterling, is the continual employment of my thoughts. Every thing now is in a fair train. It begins to grow ripe for a discovery; and I have no doubt of its concluding to the satisfaction of ourselves, of your father, and the whole family.

Fanny.

End how it will, I am resolved it shall end soon—very soon.—I wou'd not live another week in this agony of mind to be mistress of the universe.

Lovew.

Do not be too violent neither. Do not let us disturb the joy of your sister's marriage with the tumult this matter may occasion!—I have brought letters from Lord Ogleby and Sir John Melvil to Mr. Sterling.—They will be here this evening—and, I dare say, within this hour.

Fanny.

I am sorry for it.

Lovew.

Why so?

Fanny.

No matter—Only let us disclose our marri|age immediately!

Lovew.

As soon as possible.

Fanny.

But directly.

Lovew.

In a few days, you may depend on it.

Fanny.

To-night—or to-morrow morning.

Lovew.

That, I fear, will be impracticable.

Fanny.

Nay, but you must.

Lovew.

Must! why?

Fanny.

Indeed, you must.—I have the most alarm|ing reasons for it.

Lovew.

Alarming indeed! for they alarm me, even before I am acquainted with them—What are they?

Fanny.

I cannot tell you.

Lovew.

Not tell me?

Fanny.

Not at present. When all is settled, you shall be acquainted with every thing.

Lovew.

Sorry they are coming!—Must be dis|covered!—What can this mean!—Is it possible you can have any reasons that need be concealed from me?

Fanny.

Do not disturb yourself with conjectures—but rest assured, that though you are unable to di|vine the cause, the consequence of a discovery, be it what it will, cannot be attended with half the miseries of the present interval.

Lovew.

You put me upon the rack.—I wou'd do any thing to make you easy.—But you know your father's temper.—Money (you will excuse my frank|ness) is the spring of all his actions, which nothing but the idea of acquiring nobility or magnificence can ever make him forego—and these he thinks his money will purchase.—You know too your aunt's, Mrs. Heidelberg's, notions of the splendor of high life, her contempt for every thing that does not relish of what she calls Quality, and that from the vast fortune in her hands, by her late husband, she absolutely governs Mr. Sterling and the whole family: now, if they should come to the knowledge of this affair too abruptly, they might, perhaps, be incensed beyond all hopes of reconciliation.

Fanny.

But if they are made acquainted with it otherwise than by ourselves, it will be ten times worse: and a discovery grows every day more pro|bable. The whole family have long suspected our affection. We are also in the power of a foolish maid-servant; and if we may even depend on her fidelity, we cannot answer for her discretion.—Dis|cover it therefore immediately, lest some accident should bring it to light, and involve us in additional disgrace.

Lovew.

Well—well—I meant to discover it soon, but would not do it too precipitately.—I have more than once sounded Mr. Sterling about it, and will attempt him more seriously the next opportunity. But my principal hopes are these.—My relationship

to Lord Ogleby, and his having placed me with your father, have been, you know, the first links in the chain of this connection between the two families; in consequence of which, I am at present in high favour with all parties: while they all remain thus well-affected to me, I propose to lay our case before the old Lord; and if I can prevail on him to me|diate in this affair, I make no doubt but he will be able to appease your father; and, being a lord and a man of quality, I am sure he may bring Mrs. Heidelberg into good-humour at any time.—Let me beg you, therefore, to have but a little patience, as, you see, we are upon the very eve of a discovery, that must probably be to our advantage.

Fanny.

Manage it your own way. I am per|suaded.

Lovew.

But in the mean time make yourself easy.

Fanny.

As easy as I can, I will.—We had better not remain together any longer at present.—Think of this business, and let me know how you proceed.

Lovew.

Depend on my care! But, pray, be chearful.

Fanny.

I will.

As she is going out, Enter Sterling.

Sterl.

Hey-day! who have we got here?

Fanny.

[confused.]

Mr. Lovewell, Sir!

Sterl.

And where are you going, hussey!

Fanny.

To my sister's chamber, Sir!

[Exit.

Sterl.

Ah, Lovewell! What! always getting my foolish girl yonder into a corner!—Well—well—let us but once see her elder sister fast-married to Sir John Melvil, we'll soon provide a good husband for Fanny, I warrant you.

Lovew.

Wou'd to heaven, Sir, you would provide her one of my recommendation!

Sterl.

Yourself? eh, Lovewell!

Lovew.

With your pleasure, Sir!

Sterl.

Mighty well!

Lovew.

And I flatter myself, that such a proposal would not be very disagreeable to Miss Fanny.

Sterl.

Better and better!

Lovew.

And if I could but obtain your consent, Sir—

Sterl.

What! you marry Fanny!—no—no—that will never do, Lovewell!—You're a good boy, to be sure—I have a great value for you—but can't think of you for a son-in-law.—There's no Stuff in the case, no money, Lovewell!

Lovew.

My pretensions to fortune, indeed, are but moderate: but though not equal to splendor, sufficient to keep us above distress.—Add to which, that I hope by diligence to increase it—and have love, honour—

Sterl.

But not the Stuff, Lovewell!—Add one little round o to the sum total of your fortune, and that will be the finest thing you can say to me.—You know I've a regard for you—would do any thing to serve you—any thing on the footing of friendship—but—

Lovew.

If you think me worthy of your friend|ship, Sir, be assured, that there is no instance in which I should rate your friendship so highly.

Sterl.

Psha! psha! that's another thing, you know.—Where money or interest is concerned, friendship is quite out of the question.

Lovew.

But where the happiness of a daughter is at stake, you wou'd not scruple, sure, to sacrifice a little to her inclinations.

Sterl.

Inclinations! why, you wou'd not persuade me that the girl is in love with you—eh, Lovewell!

Lovew.

I cannot absolutely answer for Miss Fanny, Sir; but am sure that the chief happiness or misery of my life depends entirely upon her.

Sterl.

Why, indeed now if your kinsman, Lord Ogleby, would come down handsomely for you—but that's impossible—No, no—'twill never do—I

must hear no more of this—Come, Lovewell, pro|mise me that I shall hear no more of this.

Lovew.

[hesitating.]

I am afraid, Sir, I shou'd not be able to keep my word with you, if I did promise you.

Sterl.

Why you wou'd not offer to marry her without my consent? wou'd you, Lovewell!

Lovew.

Marry her, Sir!

[confused.

Sterl.

Ay, marry her, Sir!—I know very well that a warm speech or two from such a dangerous young spark, as you are, will go much farther towards per|suading a silly girl to do what she has more than a month's mind to do, than twenty grave lectures from fathers or mothers, or uncles or aunts, to pre|vent her.—But you wou'd not, sure, be such a base fellow, such a treacherous young rogue, as to seduce my daughter's affections, and destroy the peace of my family in that manner.—I must insist on it, that you give me your word not to marry her without my consent.

Lovew.

Sir—I—I—as to that—I—I—I beg, Sir—Pray, Sir, excuse me on this subject at present.

Sterl.

Promise then, that you will carry this matter no further without my approbation.

Lovew.

You may depend on it, Sir, that it shall go no further.

Sterl.

Well—well—that's enough—I'll take care of the rest, I warrant you.—Come, come, let's have done with this nonsense!—What's doing in town?—Any news upon 'Change?

Lovew.

Nothing material.

Sterl.

Have you seen the currants, the soap, and Madeira, safe in the warehouses? Have you com|pared the goods with the invoice and bills of lading, and are they all right?

Lovew.

They are, Sir!

Sterl.

And how are stocks?

Lovew.

Fell one and an half this morning.

Sterl.

Well—well—some good news from America, and they'll be up again.—But how are Lord Ogleby and Sir John Melvil? When are we to expect them?

Lovew.

Very soon, Sir! I came on purpose to bring you their commands. Here are letters from both of them.

Sterl.

Let me see—let me see—'Slife, how his Lordship's letter is perfumed!—It takes my breath away.—

[opening it.]

And French paper too! with a fine border of flowers and flourishes—and a slippery gloss on it that dazzles one's eyes.—My dear Mr. Sterling.—

[reading.]

—Mercy on me! His Lorship writes a worse hand than a boy at his exercise—But how's this?—Eh!—with you to-night—

[reading.]

—Lawyers to-morrow morning—To-night!—that's sudden indeed.—Where's my sister Heidelberg? she shou'd know of this immediately.—Here John! Harry! Thomas!

[calling the servants.]

Hark ye, Lovewell!

Lovew.

Sir!

Sterl.

Mind now, how I'll entertain his Lordship and Sir John—We'll shew your fellows at the other end of the town how we live in the city—They shall eat gold—and drink gold—and lie in gold—Here cook! butler!

[calling.]

What signifies your birth and education, and titles? Money, money, that's the stuff that makes the great man in this country.

Lovew.

Very true, Sir!

Sterl.

True, Sir?—Why then have done with your nonsense of love and matrimony. You're not rich enough to think of a wife yet. A man of business shou'd mind nothing but his business.—Where are these fellows? John! Thomas!

[calling.]

—Get an estate, and a wife will follow of course.—Ah! Lovewell! an English merchant is the most respectable character in the universe. 'Slife, man, a rich English merchant may make himself a

match for the daughter of a Nabob.—Where are all my rascals? Here, William!

[Exit calling.

Lovewell alone.

So!—As I suspected.—Quite averse to the match, and likely to receive the news of it with great dis|pleasure.—What's best to be done?—Let me see!—Suppose I get Sir John Melvil to interest himself in this affair. He may mention it to Lord Ogleby with a better grace than I can, and more probably prevail on him to interfere in it. I can open my mind also more freely to Sir John. He told me, when I left him in town, that he had something of conse|quence to communicate, and that I could be of use to him. I am glad of it: for the confidence he reposes in me, and the service I may do him, will ensure me his good offices.—Poor Fanny! It hurts me to see her so uneasy, and her making a mystery of the cause adds to my anxiety.—Something must be done upon her account; for at all events, her solli|citude shall be removed.

[Exit.

Scene changes to another chamber.

Enter Miss Sterling, and Miss Fanny.

Miss Sterl.

Oh, my dear sister, say no more! This is downright hypocrisy.—You shall never convince me that you don't envy me beyond measure.—Well, after all it is extremely natural—It is impossible to be angry with you.

Fanny.

Indeed, sister, you have no cause.

Miss Sterl.

And you really pretend not to envy me?

Fanny.

Not in the least.

Miss Sterl.

And you don't in the least wish that you was just in my situation?

Fanny.

No, indeed, I don't. Why should I?

Miss Sterl.

Why should you?—What! on the brink of marriage, fortune, title—But I had forgot

—There's that dear sweet creature Mr. Lovewell in the case.—You would not break your faith with your true love now for the world, I warrant you.

Fanny.

Mr. Lovewell!—always Mr. Lovewell!—Lord, what signifies Mr. Lovewell, Sister?

Miss Sterl.

Pretty peevish soul!—Oh, my dear, grave, romantick sister!—a perfect philosopher in petticoats!—Love and a cottage!—Eh, Fanny!—Ah, give me indifference and a coach and six!

Fanny.

And why not the coach and six without the indifference?—But, pray, when is this happy marriage of your's to be celebrated?—I long to give you joy.

Miss Sterl.

In a day or two—I can't tell exactly.—Oh, my dear sister!—I must mortify her a little.

[aside.]

—I know you have a pretty taste. Pray, give me your opinion of my jewels.—How d'ye like the stile of this esclavage?

[Shewing jewels.

Fanny.

Extremely handsome indeed, and well fancied.

Miss Sterl.

What d'ye think of these bracelets? I shall have a miniature of my father, set round with diamonds, to one, and Sir John's to the other.—And this pair of ear-rings! set transparent!—here, the tops, you see, will take off to wear in a morn|ing, or in an undress—how d'ye like them?

[Shews jewels.

Fanny.

Very much, I assure you—Bless me; sister, you have a prodigious quantity of jewels—you'll be the very Queen of Diamonds.

Miss Sterl.

Ha! ha! ha! very well, my dear!—I shall be as fine as a little queen indeed.—I have a bouquet to come home to-morrow—made up of diamonds, and rubies, and emeralds, and topazes, and amethysts—jewels of all colours, green, red, blue, yellow, intermixt—the prettiest thing you ever saw in your life!—The jeweller says I shall set out with as many diamonds as any body in town, except

Lady Brilliant, and Polly What d'ye-call-it, Lord Squander's kept mistress.

Fanny.

But what are your wedding-cloaths, sister?

Miss Sterl.

Oh, white and silver to be sure, you know.—I bought them at Sir Joseph Lutestring's, and sat above an hour in the parlour behind the shop, consulting Lady Lutestring about gold and silver stuffs, on purpose to mortify her.

Fanny.

Fie, sister! how could you be so abomina|bly provoking?

Miss Sterl.

Oh, I have no patience with the pride of your city-knights' ladies.—Did you never observe the airs of Lady Lutestring drest in the richest brocade out of her husband's shop, playing crown|whist at Haberdasher's-Hall?—While the civil smirk|ing Sir Joseph, with a smug wig trimmed round his broad face as close as a new-cut yew-hedge, and his shoes so black that they shine again, stands all day in his shop, fastened to his counter like a bad shilling?

Fanny.

Indeed, indeed, sister, this is too much—If you talk at this rate, you will be absolutely a bye-word in the city—You must never venture on the inside of Temple-Bar again.

Miss Sterl.

Never do I desire it—never, my dear Fanny, I promise you.—Oh, how I long to be trans|ported to the dear regions of Grosvenor-Square—far—far from the dull districts of Aldersgate, Cheap, Candlewick, and Farringdon Without and Within!—My heart goes pit-a-pat at the very idea of being introduced at court!—gilt chariot!—pyeballed hor|ses!—laced liveries!—and then the whispers buzzing round the circle—"Who is that young Lady! Who is she?"—"Lady Melvil, Ma'am!"—Lady Melvil! my ears tingle at the sound.—And then at dinner, instead of my farther perpetually asking—"Any news upon 'Change?"—to cry—well, Sir John! any thing new from Arthur's?—or—to say to some other woman of quality, was your Ladyship at the Dut|chess

of Rubber's last night?—Did you call in at Lady Thunder's? In the immensity of croud I swear I did not see you—scarce a soul at the opera last Satur|day—shall I see you at Carlisle-House next Thursday?—Oh, the dear Beau-Monde! I was born to move in the sphere of the great world.

Fanny.

And so, in the midst of all this happiness, you have no compassion for me—no pity for us poor mortals in common life.

Miss Sterl.

[affectedly.]

You?—You're above pity.—You would not change conditions with me—you're over head and ears in love, you know.—Nay, for that matter, if Mr. Lovewell and you c••me together, as I doubt not you will, you will live very com|fortably, I dare say.—He will mind his business—you'll employ yourself in the delightful care of your family—and once in a season perhaps you'll sit toge|ther in a front-box at a benefit play, as we used to do at our dancing-master's, you know—and perhaps I may meet you in the summer with some other citizens at Tunbridge.—For my part, I shall always entertain a proper regard for my relations.—You sha'n't want my countenance, I assure you.

Fanny.

Oh, you're too kind, sister!

Enter Mrs. Heidelberg.

Mrs. Heidel.

[at entring.]

Here this evening!—I vow and pertest we shall scarce have time to provide for them—Oh, my dear!

[to Miss Sterl.]

I am glad to see you're not quite in dish-abille. Lord Ogleby and Sir John Melvil will be here to-night.

Miss Sterl.

To-night, Ma'am?

Mrs. Heidel.

Yes, my dear, to-night.—Do, put on a smarter cap, and change those ordinary ruffles!—Lord, I have such a deal to do, I shall scarce have time to slip on my Italian lutestring.—Where is this dawdle of a housekeeper?—

[Enter Mrs. Trusty.]

Oh, here, Trusty! do you know that people of qua|laty are expected here this evening?

Trusty.

Yes, Ma'am.

Mrs. Heidel.

Well—Do you be sure now that every thing is done in the most genteelest manner—and to the honour of the fammaly.

Trusty.

Yes, Ma'am.

Mrs. Heidel.

Well—but mind what I say to you.

Trusty.

Yes, Ma'am.

Mrs. Heidel.

His Lordship is to lie in the chintz bedchamber—d'ye hear?—And Sir John in the blue damask room—His Lordship's valet-de-shamb in the opposite—

Trusty.

But Mr. Lovewell is come down—and you know that's his room, Ma'am.

Mrs. Heidel.

Well—well—Mr. Lovewell may make shift—or get a bed at the George—But hark ye, Trusty!

Trusty.

Ma'am!

Mrs. Heidel.

Get the great dining-room in order as soon as possible. Unpaper the curtains, take the civers off the couch and the chairs, and put the china figures on the mantle-piece immediately.

Trusty.

Yes, Ma'am.

Mrs. Heidel.

Be gone then! fly, this instant!—Where's my brother Sterling—

Trusty.

Talking to the butler, Ma'am.

Mrs. Heidel.

Very well.

[Exit Trusty.]

Miss Fanny!—I pertest I did not see you before—Lord, child, what's the matter with you?

Fanny.

With me? Nothing, Ma'am.

Mrs. Heidel.

Bless me! Why your face is as pale, and black, and yellow—of fifty colours, I pertest.—And then you have drest yourself as loose and as big—I declare there is not such a thing to be seen now, as a young woman with a fine waist—You all make your|selves as round as Mrs. Deputy Barter. Go, child!—You know the qualaty will be here by and by—Go, and make yourself a little more fit to be seen.

[Exit Fanny.]

She is gone away in tears—absolutely cry|ing, I vow and pertest.—This ridicalous Love! we

must put a stop to it. It makes a perfect nataral of the girl.

Miss Sterl.

Poor soul! she can't help it.

[affectedly.

Mrs. Heidel.

Well, my dear! Now I shall have an opportunity of convincing you of the absurdity of what you was telling me concerning Sir John Mel|vil's behaviour to you.

Miss Sterl.

Oh, it gives me no manner of uneasi|ness. But, indeed, Ma'am, I cannot be persuaded but that Sir John is an extremely cold lover. Such distant civility, grave looks, and lukewarm professions of esteem for me and the whole family! I have heard of flames and darts, but Sir John's is a passion of mere ice and snow.

Mrs. Heidel.

Oh, fie, my dear! I am perfectly ashamed of you. That's so like the notions of your poor sister! What you complain of as coldness and indiffarence, is nothing but the extreme gentilaty of his address, an exact pictur of the manners of qua|laty.

Miss Sterl.

Oh, he is the very mirror of complai|sance! full of formal bows and set speeches!—I de|clare, if there was any violent passion on my side, I should be quite jealous of him.

Mrs. Heidel.

I say jealus indeed—Jealus of who, pray?

Miss Sterl.

My sister Fanny. She seems a much greater favourite than I am, and he pays her infinite|ly more attention, I assure you.

Mrs. Heidel.

Lord! d'ye think a man of fashion, as he is, can't distinguish between the genteel and the wulgar part of the famaly?—Between you and your sister, for instance—or me and my brother?—Be ad|vised by me, child! It is all politeness and good-breeding.—Nobody knows the qualaty better than I do.

Miss Sterl.

In my mind the old lord, his uncle, has ten times more gallantry about him than Sir John. He is full of attentions to the ladies, and

smiles, and grins, and leers, and ogles, and fills every wrinkle in his old wizen face with comical expressions of tenderness. I think he wou'd make an admirable sweetheart.

Enter Sterling.

Sterl.

[at entring.]

No fish?—Why the pond was dragged but yesterday morning—There's carp and tench in the boat.—Pox on't, if that dog Lovewell had any thought, he wou'd have brought down a turbot, or some of the land-carriage mackarel.

Mrs. Heidel.

Lord, brother, I am afraid his lord|ship and Sir John will not arrive while it's light.

Sterl.

I warrant you.—But, pray, sister Heidelberg, let the turtle be drest to-morrow, and some venison—and let the gardener cut some pine-apples—and get out some ice.—I'll answer for wine, I warrant you—I'll give them such a glass of Champagne as they ne|ver drank in their lives—no, not at a Duke's table.

Mrs. Heidel.

Pray now, brother, mind how you behave. I am always in a fright about you with people of qualaty. Take care that you don't fall asleep directly after supper, as you commonly do. Take a good deal of snuff; and that will keep you awake.—And don't burst out with your horrible loud horse-laughs. It is monstrous wulgar.

Sterl.

Never fear, sister!—Who have we here?

Mrs. Heidel.

It is Mons. Cantoon, the Swish gentle|man, that lives with his Lordship, I vow and pertest.

Enter Canton.

Sterl.

Ah, Mounseer! your servant.—I am very glad to see you, Mounseer.

Canton.

Mosh oblige to Mons. Sterling.—Ma'am, I am yours—Matemoiselle, I am yours.

[Bowing round.

Mrs. Heidel.

Your humble servant, Mr. Cantoon!

Canton.

I kiss your hands, Matam!

Sterl.

Well, Mounseer!—and what news of your good family!—when are we to see his Lordship and Sir John?

Canton.

Mons. Sterling! Milor Ogelby and Sir Jean Melvile will be here in one quarter-hour.

Sterl.

I am glad to hear it.

Mrs. Heidel.

O, I am perdigious glad to hear it. Being so late I was afeard of some accident.—Will you please to have any thing, Mr. Cantoon, after your journey?

Canton.

No, I tank you, Ma'am.

Mrs. Heidel.

Shall I go and shew you the apart|ments, Sir?

Canton.

You do me great honeur, Ma'am.

Mrs. Heidel.

Come then!—come, my dear!

[to Miss Sterling.]

[Exeunt.

Manet Sterling.

Sterl.

Pox on't, it's almost dark—It will be too late to go round the garden this evening.—However, I will carry them to take a peep at my fine canal at least, I am determined.

[Exit.