Mrs. D. Well, son Abel, you must be obey'd. -What, you are rejoic'd at the return of one I have in my eye, ha?

Abel. Yes, I have, by my father's desire, been thinking more about somebody than I'll speak of.

Mrs. D. That's right. You must now endeavour to please the ladies, cast off Obadiah's formalities, shew 'em your breeding, boy, and let 'em see you are as well taught as fed.

[Apart. Abel. If you please, I would speak a word in private.

Arab. [To Ruth.] That poor gentleman seems heartily tir'd of Mrs. Day's tongue.

Ruth. Indeed he looks fatigu'd.

Arab. I like him much; he seems plain and honest.

Ruth. Plain enough in all conscience; but to please you, I'll speak to him.

Arab. No, prithee, don't-he'll think us

rude.

Ruth. Then I shall think him an ass.-I hope you are better after your journey, sir?

Man. No, madam, I am rather worse. Ruth. You don't like riding in a stage, perhaps?

Man. No, ma'am, nor talking after it. This young spawn is as bad as the old pike. [Aside. Ruth. Short, however, if not sweet.

Arab. Prithee, peace!-sir, we wish you all happiness.

Man. Ma'am, I thank you.—I like her well; but I hope she'll say no more, lest she should spoil my good opinion. [Aside. Mrs. D. [Advances.] Come, Arabella:-'tis as I told you;-Abel has it.-Say no more. Take her by the hand, Abel: faith she may venture to take you for better for worse; lead her along.-Fare you well, sir. [To Manly.] Oh! Abel's a notable fellow!

[Abel leads off Arabella, and Obadiah Mrs.

Day, leering at Ruth, who follows. Man. There's something very interesting about that girl—well, here I am in the ancient city of Gloucester, quartered for at least six months, if my creditors don't hunt me out of it. As our troop came some days since, private lodgings, I suppose, are scarce. [Going.

Enter Colonel CARELESS and STORY.

Care. Dear Manly, welcome to Gloucester. Man: Dear Colonel, I did not think to have met you so suddenly. Ah! my old friend, Lieutenant Story, your servant.

Story. Your friend still, captain-but no longer a lieutenant: I have quitted the service some time; I am married and settled here, and, faith, as times go, well to do.

Man. I am glad of it.

Care. I hope, Manly, our creditors were not troublesome at our last quarters after I left you?

[Apart. Man. They threaten'd us with the law: but 1 dare say a few pounds will quiet 'em for a month

or $0.

2

Care. And in that time we may get relief, by death or marriage. When did you arrive?

66

Man. Just now came in a stage coach, wedg'd in with half a dozen; there was, a justice's wife, full of vulgar dignity, and her daughter;" but a bastard, past doubt, for she "bore no resemblance to her mother: their "names are e Day. There was" another young lady with 'em, rather handsome; who, it seems, is intended for the justice's eldest son; a downright ass. He came here to meet his mother, and with him his father's drawling clerk :-two such formal, aukward rascals you never sawha! ha!

Story. The handsome lady you speak of is a rich heiress; they say, her father died abroad in the king's service, and left this Mr. Day her guardian, who, it seems, designs her for this his first-born booby.

Care. Why what a dull dog wert thou, Mauly, not to make love and rescue her!-hey! whom have we here?

Enter TEAGUE, wrapt up in a Blanket.

Who art thou, pray?

Tea. A poor Irishman, heaven save me, and save all your three faces!-give me a thirteen. Care. Thou wilt not lose any thing for want of asking.

Tea. Faith I can't afford it.

Care. Well, there's sixpence for thy confi dence.

Tea. By my troth 'tis too little, make it a thirteen and I'll drink all your healths.

Man. How long hast thou been in England? Tea. Ever since I came here, and longer too. Care. What's thy business?

Tea. I have no business at all, at all; I'm a gentleman at large, and that's all I have done since I left my master.

Care. Why did'st leave him?

Tea. Because he died one day.

Care. Then it seems he left thee.

Tea. Yes, indeed-he left poor Teague-but he never serv'd me so before in all his life.

Care. Prithee, who was thy master?

Tea. Sure he was the good Colonel Danger. [With affection. Care. Colonel Danger! he was my dear and noble friend.

Tea. Yes, that he was, and poor Teague's

too.

Care. Where did he die?

Tea. He died in bed, in the enemy's prison, t'other side the water there.

Care. And what dost thou mean to do.

Tea. I wou'd get a good master, if a good master wou'd get me. I can't tell what to do else I was here on my way to Bristol, to see to beg a passage to old Ireland: I went to the man who lives at that house, at the end of t'other house, beside the great house, who tells by the stars and the planters what good luck is for man; and he told me there was no star for a poor Irishman. By my soul, says I, there are as many stars in Ireland as in England, and more too. Now I'll go to Ireland, and if the stars be there still, I'll come back, and I'll beat his big pate, if he won't give Teague some good luck.

Care. Poor fellow, I pity him; he seems simple and honest. Well, Teague, what wouldst thou say, if I should take thee?

Tea. I'd say you cou'd not do a better thing, though you got a worse man.

Care. Thy master was my dear friend;wert thou with him when he died?

Tea. Upon my soul and I was: and I howl'd over him after-and I ask'd him why he wou'd die and leave poor Teague? but the devil a word he answer'd; and in faith I staid kissing his sweet face, till they took him from me.

While my