three weeks, the fashionable jargon of half the fine men about town; and I am sure it must be allowed, that pug, in a scarlet coat, is a gentleman as degagè and alluring as most of them.

Clar. Sir, I took the liberty to desire a few moments private conversation with you-I hope you will excuse it-I am really greatly embarrassed; but, in an affair of such immediate consequence to us both

Jess. My dear creature, don't be embarrassed before me I should be extremely sorry to strike you with any awe; but this is a species of mauvaise honte, which the company I shall introduce you to will soon cure you of

Clar. Upon my word, sir, I don't understand you. Jess. Perhaps, you may be under some uneasiness lest I should not be quite so warm in the prosecution of this affair as you could wish-it is true, with re gard to quality, I might do better: and, with regard to fortune, full as well-But you please me-Upon

my soul, I have not met with any thing more agree able to me a great while.

Clar. Pray, sir, keep your seat.

Jess. Mauvaise honte again. My dear, there is nothing in these little familiarities between you and me-When we are married, I shall do every thing to render your life happy.

Clar. Ah, sir! pardon me. The happiness of my life depends upon a circumstance

Jess. Oh! I understand you-You have been told, I suppose, of the Italian opera girl-Rat people's tongues! However, 'tis true, I had an affair with her, at Naples, and she is now here. But be satisfied :I'll give her a thousand pounds, and send her about her business.

Clar. Me, sir! I protest nobody told me-Lord! I never heard any such thing, or enquired about it. Jess. No! have they not been chattering to you of my affair at Pisa, with the Principessa del

Clar. No, indeed, sir.

Jess. Well, I was afraid they might; because, in this rude country-But, why silent on a sudden? →→ don't be afraid to speak.

Clar. No, sir, I will come to the subject, on which I took the liberty to trouble you-Indeed, I have great reliance on your generosity.

Jess. You'll find me generous as a prince,depend on't, Clar. I am blessed, sir, with one of the best of fa thers; I never yet disobeyed him, in which I have had little merit; for his commands hitherto have only been to secure my own felicity.

Jess. Apres ma chere

Clar. But now, sir, I am under the shocking ne cessity of disobeying him, or being wretched for ever, Jess. Hem!

Clar. Our union is impossible.-Perhaps this frank. ness may offend you; but the anxiety under which Į now labour, will, I hope, plead my excuse. The com

mands of such a father as I am blessed with, I own, ought to be held sacred; yet such is his liberality of sentiment, that, I am well assured, he will not sacrifice my happiness to interest; neither can I act so basely, as to bestow my hand without my heart. [Exit. Jess. Who's there?

Enter JENKINS.

Jenk. Do you call, sir?

Jess. Hark you, old gentleman! who are you?
Jenk. Sir, my name is Jenkins.

Jess. Oh, you are Sir John Flowerdale's steward -a servant he puts confidence in.

Jenk. Sir, I have served Sir John Flowerdale many years.

Jess. Then, Mr Jenkins, I shall condescend to speak to you. Does your master know who I am ?— Does he know, sir, that I am likely to be a peer of Great Britain?That I have ten thousand pounds a year? That I have passed through all Europe with distinguished eclat? That I refused the daughter of Mynheer Van Slokenfolk, the great Dutch burgomaster? and that, if I had not had the misfortune of being bred a protestant, I might have married the niece of his present holiness, the pope, with a fortune of two hundred thousand piastres?

Jenk. I am sure, sir, my master has all the respect imaginable

Jess. Then, sir, how comes he, after my showing an inclination to be allied to his family; how comes he, I say, to bring me to his house to be affronted? I have let his daughter go, but, I think, I was in the wrong; for a woman that insults me is no more safe than a man. I have brought a lady to reason before now, for giving me saucy language, and left her male friends to revenge it.

Jenk. Pray, good sir, what's the matter?

Jess. Why, sir, this is the matter, sir-your master's

daughter, sir, has behaved to me with damned insolence and impertinence: and you may tell Sir John Flowerdale, first with regard to her, that I think she is a silly, ignorant, awkward, ill-bred, country puss. Jenk. Oh, sir! for Heaven's sake

Jess. And that, with regard to himself, he is, in my opinion, an old, ridiculous, doting, country 'squire, without the knowledge of either men or things; and that he is below my notice, if it were not to despise him. Jenk. Good Lord! Good Lord!

Jess. And advise him and his daughter to keep out of my way; for, by gad, I will affront them, in the first place I meet them-And if your master is for carrying things further, tell him, I fence better than any man in Europe, Mr Jenkins.

AIR.

In Italy, Germany, France, have I been ;
Where princes I've lived with, where monarchs
I've seen.

The great have caress'd me,

The fair have address'd me,

Nay, smiles I have had from a queen.

And, now, shall a pért

Insignificant flirt,

With insolence use mé,

Presume to refuse me?

She fancies my pride will be hurt.

But, tout au contraire,

I'm pleased I declare,

Quite happy to think I escape from the snare &
Serviteur, mam'selle; my claim I withdraw,

Hey, where are my people? Fal, lal, lal, lal la. [Exit,

Jenk. I must go and inform Sir John of what has happened; but I will not tell him of the outrageous behaviour of this young spark: for he is a man of spirit, and would resent it. Egad, my own fingers itched

to be at him, once or twice: and, as stout as he is, I fancy these old fists would give him a bellyful. [Exit.

SCENE III.

SIR JOHN FLOWERDALE'S Garden, with a View of a Canal, by Moonlight: the Side Scenes represent Box Hedges, intermixed with Statues and Flowering Shrubs.

Enter LIONEL, leading CLARISSA.

Lionel. Hist-methought I heard a noise! should we be surprised together, at a juncture so critical, what might be the consequence! I know not how it is, but at this, the happiest moment of my life, I feel a damp, a tremour at my heart

Clar. Then, what should I do? If you tremble, I ought to be terrified indeed, who have discovered sentiments, which, perhaps, I should have hid, with a frankness, that, by a man less generous, less nobleminded than yourself, might be construed to my disadvantage.

Lionel. Oh, wound me not with so cruel an expression! You love me, and have condescended to confess it-You have seen my torments, and been kind enough to pity them-The world, indeed, may blame you

Clar. Be calm, and listen to me-what I have done has not been lightly imagined, nor rashly undertaken -it is the work of reflection-of conviction: my love is not a sacrifice to my own fancy, but a tribute to your worth did I think there was a more deserving man in the world

Lionel. If, to dote on you more than life, be to de. serve you, so far I have merit-if, to have no wish, no hope, no thought, but you, can entitle me to the envied distinction of a moment's regard, so far I dare prètend.