YE gods! what crime had my poor father done,
That you should make a poet of his son?
Or is't for some great services of his,
Y'are pleased to compliment his boy-with this?
[Showing his crown of laurel.
The honour, I must needs confess, is great,
If, with his crown, you'd tell him where to eat.
'Tis well.-But I have more complaints-look here!
[Showing his ragged coat.
Hark ye :-D'ye think this suit good winter wear?
In a cold morning, whu-at a lord's gate,
How you have let the porter let me wait!
You'll say, perhaps, you knew I'd get no harm,
You'd given me fire enough to keep me warm.
Ah!-

A world of blessings to that fire we owe;
Without it I'd ne'er made this princely show.
I have a brother too, now in my sight,

[Looking behind the scenes. A busy man amongst us here to-night :

Your fire has made him play a thousand pranks,
For which, no doubt, you've had his daily thanks;
He has thank'd you, first, for all his decent plays.
Where he so nick'd it, when he writ for praise.
Next for his meddling with some folks in black,
And bringing-souse !-a priest upon his back;
For building houses here to oblige the peers,
And fetching all their house about his ears;
For a new play, he'as now thought fit to write,
To soothe the town-which they-will damn to-

t'other: for, not to wrong 'em, they give very good

rates.

Mrs. Aml. Oh, for that, let us do 'em justice, neighbour; they never make two words upon the price, all they haggle about is the day of pay

ment.

Mrs. Clog. There's all the dispute, as you say. Mrs. Aml. But that's a wicked one. For my part, neighbour, I'm just tired off my legs with trotting after 'em; besides, it eats out all our profit. Would you believe it, Mrs. Cloggit, I have worn out four pair of pattens with following my old lady Youthful, for one set of false teeth, and but three pots of paint.

Mrs. Clog. Look you there now!

Mrs. Aml. If they would but once let me get enough by 'em, to keep a coach to carry me adunning after 'em, there would be some conscience in it.

Mrs. Clog. Ay, that were something. But now you talk of conscience, Mrs. Amlet, how do you speed amongst your city customers?

Mrs. Aml. My city customers! now by my truth, neighbour, between the city and the court (with reverence be it spoken) there's not a-to choose. My ladies in the city, in times past, were as full of gold as they were of religion, and as punctual in their payments as they were in their prayers; but since they have set their minds upon quality, adieu one, adieu t'other, their money and their consciences are gone, Heaven knows where. There is not a goldsmith's wife to be found in town, but's as hard-hearted as an ancient judge, and as poor as a towering duchess.

Mrs. Clog. But what the murrain have they to do with quality! why don't their husbands make 'em mind their shops?

Mrs. Aml. Their husbands! their husbands, sayest thou, woman? Alack! alack! they mind their husbands, neighbour, no more than they do a

sermon.

Mrs. Clog. Good lack a-day, that women born of sober parents, should be prone to follow ill examples! But now we talk of quality, when did you hear of your son Richard, Mrs. Amlet? My daughter Flipp says she met him t'other day in a laced coat, with three fine ladies, his footman at his heels, and as gay as a bridegroom. Mrs. Aml. Is it possible? Well, neighbour, all's well that ends well; but Dick will be hanged.

Mrs. Clog. That were pity.

Ah the rogue!

Mrs. Aml. Pity indeed; for he's a hopeful young man to look on; but he leads a life-Well -where he has it, Heaven knows; but they say, he pays his club with the best of 'em. I have seen him but once these three months, neighbour, and then the varlet wanted money; but I bid him march, and march he did to some purpose; for in less than an hour back comes my gentleman into the house, walks to and fro in the room, with his wig over his shoulder, his hat on one side, whistling a minuet, and tossing a purse of gold from one hand to t'other, with no more respect (Heaven bless us!) than if it had been an orange. Sirrah, says I, where have you got that? He answers me never a word, but sets his arms akimbo, cocks his saucy hat in my face, turns about upon his ungracious heel, as much as to say kiss-and I've never set eye on him since.

SCENE II.-The Street before GRIPE's House. Enter BRASS.

Brass. Well, surely through the world's wide extent, there never appeared so impudent a fellow as my school-fellow Dick.-Pass himself upon the town for a gentleman, drop into all the best company with an easy air, as if his natural element were in the sphere of quality; when the rogue had a kettle-drum to his father, who was hanged for robbing a church, and has a pedlar to his mother, -who carries her shop under her arm !-But here he comes.

SCENE III.-A Room in the same. Enter CLARISSA, followed by FLIPPANTA and BRASS. Clar. No messages this morning from anybody, Flippanta? Lard, how dull that is! Oh, there's Brass-I did not see thee, Brass. What news dost thou bring?

Brass. Only a letter from Araminta, madam. Clar. Give it me.-Open it for me, Flippanta, I am so lazy to-day. [Sitting down. Brass. [Aside to FLIPPANTA.] Be sure now you deliver my master's as carefully as I do this. Flip. Don't trouble thyself, I'm no novice. Clar. [To BRASS.] 'Tis well; there needs no answer, since she'll be here so soon.

Brass. Your ladyship has no farther commands then?

Clar. Not at this time, honest Brass.-[Exit BRASS.] Flippanta!

Flip. Madam.

Clar. My husband's in love.

Flip. In love!

Clar. With Araminta.

Flip. Impossible!

Clar. This letter from her is to give me an account of it.

Flip. Methinks you are not very much alarmed. Clar. No; thou knowest I'm not much tortured with jealousy.

Flip. Nay, you are much in the right on't, madam, for jealousy's a city passion; 'tis a thing unknown amongst people of quality.

Clar. Fy! a woman must indeed be of a mechanic mould who is either troubled or pleased with anything her husband can do to her. Prithee mention him no more; 'tis the dullest theme.

Flip. 'Tis splenetic indeed. But when once you open your basset-table, I hope that will put him out of your head.

Clar. Alas, Flippanta! I begin to grow weary even of the thoughts of that too.

Flip. How so?

Clar. Why, I have thought on't a day and a night already; and four-and-twenty hours, thou knowest, is enough to make one weary of anything.

Flip. Now, by my conscience, you have more woman in you than all your sex together: you never know what you would have.

Clar. Thou mistakest the thing quite. I always know what I lack, but I am never pleased with what I have. The want of a thing is perplexing enough, but the possession of it is intolerable.

Flip. Well, I don't know what you are made of, but other women would think themselves blest in your case; handsome, witty, loved by everybody, and of so happy a composure to care a fig for nobody. You have no one passion but that of your pleasures; and you have in me a servant devoted to all your desires, let 'em be as extravagant as they will. Yet all this is nothing; you can still be out of humour.

Clar. Alas! I have but too much cause. Flip. Why, what have you to complain of? Clar. Alas! I have more subjects for spleen than one. Is it not a most horrible thing that I should be but a scrivener's wife? Come, don't flatter me; don't you think nature designed me for something plus élevée 3

Clar. Why, I dare abuse nobody: I'm afraid to affront people, though I don't like their faces; o to ruin their reputations, though they pique me to it by taking ever so much pains to preserve 'em : I dare not raise a lie of a man, though he neglects to make love to me; nor report a woman to be a fool though she's handsomer than I am. In short, I dare not so much as bid my footman kick the people out of doors, though they come to ask me for what I owe 'em.

Fhp. All this is very hard indeed.

Clar. Ah, Flippanta, the perquisites of quality are of an unspeakable value!

Flip. They are of some use, I must confess, but we must not expect to have everything. You have wit and beauty, and a fool to your husband come, come, madam, that's a good portion for

one.

Clar. Alas! what signifies beauty and wit, when one dares neither jilt the men nor abuse the women? 'Tis a sad thing, Flippanta, when wit's confined; 'tis worse than the rising of the lights. I have been sometimes almost choked with scandal, and durst not cough it up for want of being a countess. Flip. Poor lady!

Clar. Oh! liberty is a fine thing, Flippanta; it's a great help in conversation to have leave to say what one will. I have seen a woman of quality, who has not had one grain of wit, entertain a whole company the most agreeably in the world, only with her malice. But 'tis in vain to repine; I can't mend my condition till my husband dies; so I'll say no more on't, but think of making the most of the state I am in.

Flip. That's your best way, madam; and in order to it, pray consider how you'll get some ready money to set your basset-table a-going; for that's

necessary.

Clar. Thou sayest true; but what trick I shall play my husband to get some I don't know : for my pretence of losing my diamond necklace has put the man into such a passion, I'm afraid he won't hear reason.

Flip. No matter; he begins to think 'tis lost in earnest so I fancy you may venture to sell it, and raise money that way.

Clar. That can't be, for he has left odious notes with all the goldsmiths in town.

Flip. Well, we must pawn it then.

Clar. I'm quite tired with dealmg with those pawnbrokers.

Flip. [Aside.] I'm afraid you'll continue the trade a great while, for all that.

Flip. She's a troublesome jade.

Clar. So are all people that come a-dunning.
Flip. What will you do with her?

Clar. I have just now thought on't. She's very rich, that woman is, Flippanta; I'll borrow some money of her.

Flip. Borrow! sure you jest, madam.

Clar. No, I'm in earnest; I give thee commission to do it for me.

Flip. Me!

Clar. Why dost thou stare, and look so ungainly? don't I speak to be understood?

Flip. Yes, I understand you well enough; but Mrs. Amlet

Clar. But Mrs. Amlet must lend me some money; where shall I have any to pay her else? Flip. That's true; I never thought of that truly. But here she is.

Enter Mrs. AMLET.

Clar. How d'you do? how d'you do, Mrs. Amlet; I han't seen you these thousand years, and yet I believe I'm down in your books.

Mrs. Aml. Oh, madam, I don't come for that, alack!

Flip. Good-morrow, Mrs. Amlet.

Mrs. Aml. Good-morrow, Mrs. Flippanta. Clar. How much am I indebted to you, Mrs. Amlet ?

Mrs. Aml. Nay, if your ladyship desires to see your bill, I believe I may have it about me.-There, madam, if it ben't too much fatigue to you to look it over.

Clar. Let me see it, for I hate to be in debt[Aside]-where I am obliged to pay.-[Reads.] Imprimis, For bolstering out the Countess of Crump's left hip-Oh, fy! this does not belong to

me.

Mrs. Aml. I beg your ladyship's pardon. I mistook, indeed; 'tis a countess's bill I have writ out to little purpose. I furnished her two years ago with three pair of hips, and am not paid for 'em yet. But some are better customers than some. There's your ladyship's bill, madam.

Clar. [Reads.] For the idea of a new-invented commode.-Ay, this may be mine, but 'tis of a preposterous length. Do you think I can waste time to read every article, Mrs. Amlet? I'd as lief read

a sermon.

Mrs. Aml. Alack-a-day, there's no need of fatiguing yourself at that rate; cast an eye only, if your honour pleases, upon the sum total.

Clar. Total; fifty-six pound-and odd things. Flip. But six-and-fifty pound!

Mrs. Aml. Nay, another body would have made it twice as much; but there's a blessing goes along with a moderate profit.

Clar. Flippanta, go to my cashier, let him give you six-and-fifty pound. Make haste: don't you hear me? six-and-fifty pound. Is it so difficult to be comprehended?

Flip. No, madam, I-I comprehend six-andfifty pound, but

Clar. But go and fetch it then.

Flip. [Aside.] What she means I don't know; but I shall, I suppose, before I bring her the money. [Exit.

Clar. [Setting her hair in a pocket-glass.] The trade you follow gives you a great deal of trouble, Mrs. Amlet?

Mrs. Aml. Alack-a-day, a world of pain, ma dam, and yet there's small profit, as your honour sees by your bill.

Clar. Poor woman! Sometimes you have great losses, Mrs. Amlet?

Mrs. Aml. I have two thousand pounds owing me, of which I shall never get ten shillings.

Clar. Poor woman! You have a great charge of children, Mrs. Amlet?

Mrs. Aml. Only one wicked rogue, madam, who, I think, will break my heart.

Clar. Poor woman!

Mrs. Aml. He'll be hanged, madam—that will be the end of him. Where he gets it, Heaven knows; but he's always shaking his heels with the ladies, and his elbows with the lords. He's as fine as a prince, and as gim as the best of them; but the ungracious rogue tells all he comes near that his mother is dead, and I am but his

nurse.

Clar. Poor woman!

Mrs. Aml. Alas, madam, he's like the rest of the world; everybody's for appearing to be more than they are, and that ruins all.

Clar. Well, Mrs. Amlet, you'll excuse me, I have a little business, Flippanta will bring you your money presently. Adieu, Mrs. Amlet!

Mrs. Aml. I return your honour many thanks. -[Exit CLARISSA.] Ah, there's my good lady, not so much as read her bill. If the rest were like her, I should soon have money enough to go as fine as Dick himself.

Mrs. Aml. Misericorde! what do I see !

Dick. [Aside.] Fiends and hags-the witch my mother!

Mrs. Aml. Nay, 'tis he; ah, my poor Dick, what art thou doing here?

Dick. [Aside.] What a misfortune!

Mrs. Aml. Good Lard! how thou art bravely decked. But it's all one, I am thy mother still; and though thou art a wicked child, nature will speak, I love thee still, ah, Dick! my poor Dick!

[Embracing him.

Mrs. Aml. Ah, he's a proper young man; see what a shape he has! ah, poor child!

[Running to embrace him, he still avoiding her. Dick. Oons, keep off! the woman's mad. If anybody comes, my fortune's lost.

Mrs. Aml. What fortune, ha? speak, graceless! Ah Dick, thou'lt be hanged, Dick!

Dick. Good dear mother now, don't call me Dick here.

Mrs. Aml. Not call thee Dick! is it not thy name? What shall I call thee? Mr. Amlet? ha! Art not thou a presumptuous rascal? Hark you, sirrah, I hear of your tricks; you disown me for