take cards and dice to the drawing-room.! Dame. You the lover of women!-Oh no.

Mind, you are to win all my estates!
Sir Arth. With all my heart.
Old Rev. Absolutely ruin me!
Sir Arth. With the greatest pleasure.
Old Rev. Not leave me a Bank-note!
Sir Arth. Ha! ha! nor a rag to make one.
[Exeunt.

SCENE LAST.-A Library to YOUNG REVEL.
YOUNG REVEL seated at a Table covered with
Papers and accompt Books: a Pen behind
his Ear.

Eleven and seven-eighteen; and eleventwenty-nine:-twenty pence is one and eightpence:-two and five-pence-right:-two and aught is two- certainly-[Noise of Dice] What rattling noise is that?-My father and wife playing at sixpenny backgammon! what a waste of precious time!

Enter DEXTER-he runs to a Drawer. Why am I disturbed?-What do you want? Dex. Dice, sir; Mr. Revel and Sir Arthur are at deep play; your father has lost thousands. In his fury he swallowed the dice, and wants more.

Old Rev. [Without] Dice! I say.

Dex. They are here, sir. [Exit running. Y. Rev. Losing thousands !-dreadful depravity! Ah! my father, what would become of you, if you had not such a son as I am! [Enter Jonathan] Again my studies interrupted?

Jon. Your tenant, Dame Ryeland.

Y. Rev. What, would you bait me with her maudlin woes? Why did not you deny me? Jon. Sir, you did not say

Y. Rev. Was it necessary to say I did not want to see an old woman? Say, that abstruse calculations engross my mind, as you see, Jonathan! [Exit Jonathan] I must begin again.

Enter DAME RYELAND.

Dame. [Speaking as she enters] Don't jabber your nonsense to me-I will be heard. Y. Rev. [Rising] Will be heard?

He that can admire the sparkling eye, yet
smile at the tear which dims it; he that can
gaze on the heaving bosom, yet be insensible
to the agony it throbs with;-is woman's worst
foe, and can only expect the comtempt of the
virtuous, and the curses of the unfortunate.
Y. Reo. Plagues! but I have deserved it.
Old Rev. [Without] One more throw: what
refuse me my revenge?

Sir Arth. [Without] Well, double or quits!
Old Rev. Without] All or nothing!
[Dice thrown.
Sir Arth. [Without] Huzza, 'tis mine! [a
Noise of broken Glass.]

Enter BUTTERCUP.

Butter. Oh my poor master-a beggar'd gamester! he has lost all his treasures, except

me.

Y. Rev. What noise was that?

Butter. In desperation, he jumped through the window, and ran to the fish-pond. Y. Rev. You followed?

Butter. No.

Y. Rev. Fool! follow him! within there! fly, pursue! [to Dame Ryeland] in mercy assist. Dame. That I will. [Exeunt Dame Ryeland, Buttercup, and Servant. Y. Rev. Ah! but here comes his honourable plunderer!

Enter SIR ARTHUR STANMORE, his Hands full of Banknotes, which he is pocketing. Sir Arth. Ha! Ha! What glorious sport! I'm a made man.

Y. Rev. Sir, this intrusion into my room of business is irregular and offensive.

Sir Arth. Indeed!-I have not left him land enough to fill a bowpot; nor timber, to make the old boy a crutch.

Y. Rev. To add insult to ruin is the act of a coward.

Sir Arth. I understand, but I'm not to be bounced out of my property. Y. Rev. Follow me.

Sir Arth. No-I sha'n't fight to day! deep Dame. Your patience, sir. I beg with all play has shattered my nerves-I'm fatigued by humility to state, that lowly as my station is, the oppression of wealth-I really could not I have feelings and affections that are very depend on my aim: [Looking along his Findear to me, and possessing little else makes ger towards Young Revel] but to-morrow, them cling more closely round my heart. breakfast and bullets are at your service. Y. Rev. I heard some one lamenting

Y. Rev. What favour do you solicit? Dame. None: I would receive with grati- Sir Arth. It would be rather awkward if the tude the favours of a kind considerate land-old boy has been desperate.

lord; but from him who does me wrong, I Butter. [Without] I've cut him down! I've will accept nothing but justice, and I demand-cut him down!

Y. Rev. Your language is impertinent: con- Sir Arth. Surely he could not be so vulgar as to hang himself!

sider your situation.

Dame. A mother struggling for her child's happiness; and surely the cause of nature ought to be supported by the language of truth. As you cannot have forgot insulting my son by an unworthy blow, I trust you can have no objection to making him a due apology.

Enter BUTTERCUP. MRS. REVEL and LADY STANMORE enter, supporting OLD REVEL, his Dress disordered. They place him in a Chair; following them, enter DAME RYELAND, FRANK, and FANNY.

Butter. Oh, that ever I should live to save Y. Rev. [Scornfully] He requires it, does he? my old master from killing himself! Dame. No, 'tis the mother asks for peace Old Rev. Where am I? [Looking at Sir -my son demands blow for blow. It would Arthur and Young Revel] Among fiends! be kind to grant my request-perhaps prudent. [Looking at the Ladies]-No-angels! Y. Rev. Insolent! and, but that I am a lo- Y. Rev. Look up, my father, see your rever of your sex.— pentant, broken-hearted son.

Old Res. Ah, Ned, is that you? I have done Fanny. Dear sir, may I-[Showing a Pamy best to follow my dear son's example: you per, Old Revel nods, and chucks her under see what it has ended in-ruin! the chin] Here, dear Frank! look, Dame! [They come forward. Y. Rev. Mr. Ryeland, I have wronged, insulted

Dex. [Aside] My new master ruined! I him a shabby sort of gentleman. No: we'll must rat1). keep as we are; and while agriculture affords Old Rev. What's the matter, my dear Dexter? health aud competence to the cultivator, and Dex. Ugly reports have reached your cre- good subjects to the state, I trust its efforts ditors: they clamously demand their money, will be justly estimated, and its children re

Dex. Not ruined? Oh! about ship again! you ever see these dice before? Refund [Point[Aside] No, Sir; I'll not pay the scoundrels ing to Frank] or go. Bob, see your friend a farthing! to dare to molest noble gentle-out.-Embrace him at parting. [Apart to him] man with their insolent demands! I'll ride the Give him a Cornish hug 1).

ARTHUR MURPHY

Was born near Elphin, in the county of Roscommon, Ireland, December 27, 1730. His father was a merchant in Dublin; and his mother, whose maiden name was French, was the daughter of Arthur French, of Tyrone, in the county of Galway. When young, our author was brought to London by his mother; whence he was sent to an aunt, (Mrs. Plunket) then residing at Boulogne, who entered her nephew at the College of St. Omers, in 1740. Here he remained near seven years, and on his return spent two years in the counting-house of Mr. Hanold, an eminent merchant in Cork. Leaving this place in consequence of a theatrical dispute, in which he had taken too active a part, he came to town, and obtained admission into the counting-house of Ironside and Belchier, bankers. How long Mr. Murphy centinued in this situation we are not informed; but when he relinquished it, having cultivated a taste for literature, and

conceived a disgust to trade, he commenced author. In the year 1752, he published The Gray's Inn Journal, which continued until October 1754. His next attempt was on the stage. where he appeared at Covent Garden Theatre, in the character of Othello, October 18, 1754; but though he possessed figure, voice, genius, and an accurate conception of the parts he acted; yet he soon found that he was not likely to add to his fame in a situation where excellence is very seldom to he met with. At the end of the first year he removed to Drury Lane, where he remained only until the season closed, at the conclusion of which he renounced the theatres as an actor, and resumed his former employment of a writer. The violence of parties at this juncture running very high, our author undertook the defence of the unpopule side, and began a periodical paper, 6th November 1756, called The Test, which was answered by the late Owen Ruff head, Esquire, in another, under the title of The Contest. To prevent his being obliged to rely solely on the precarious state of an author, he now determined to study the law; but, on his first application to the societies of both the Temples and Gray's Inn, he had the mortification to be refused admission, on the illiberal ground of his having acted on the stage. He was, however, received as a member of Lincoln's Inn, and in due time called to the bar; after which he gradually withdrew himself from the public as a writer. At the beginning of the reign of King George III. he was employed to write against the famous North Briton, and for a considerable sum published a weekly paper, called The Auditor; but being disgusted, as is supposed, at some improper behaviour among his party, he from that time gave up all at tention to politics, and devoted himself wholly to the study of his profession as a lawyer. He published an edition of Henry Fieldings works, with a life of the author, in 1762. His translation of Tucitus, his poems, prologues, etc. are well known, and have been justly admired. His Life of David Garrick, however, did him no credit. He was many years a commissioner of bankrupts, in which office he continued to his death, which happened at Knightsbridge, the 18th of

June 18c5.

THREE WEEKS AFTER MARRIAGE.

Comedy of two acts, by Arthur Murphy, Performed at Covent Garden. 1776. This piece affords a very striking proof of the capriciousness of public taste, and the injustice of some public determinations. It is no other than the What we must all come to, of the same author, with a new title. On its first appearance it was condemned almost without a hearing, and lay dormant for several years, until Mr. Lewis ventured to produce it again at his benefit; whet it met with universal applause, and still continues to be frequently acted and favourably received. The following anecdote is related by Mr. Ryley (in his entertaining work called The Itinerant) of a country manager, named Davies: When Mr. Ross, formerly the Edinburgh Roscias, was at Lyme, in Dorsetshire, in a very infirm state of health, being a general favourite among the visitors, Manager Davies applied to him, and he bespoke Three Weeks after Marriage. Davies undertook the part of Sir Charles; and Miss Stanley, was quite at home in Lady Racket, having often played it with Mr. Dimond, of the Bath Theatre, whose business she wrote down for Davies's instruction. One thing, which she particularly desired, was, that when they are parting after the first quarrel, and she says, "Won't you go to bed" he should reply, "No, Madam, l'il never go to bed with a woman who does not know what's trumps. It is supposed that he had taken particular paius to be correct; but not being at all casy in the part, and secing the eyes of the great actor Ross intently fixed upon him from the stage-box, when the fatal question was put, "Come, Sir Charles, won' you go to bed?" he replied, "No, Madam, I'll never go to bed with a woman that trumps!" The house was in a Davies, perceiving his mistake, made it worse by hawling out, "Ladies and Gentlemen, I did not mean any such thing; I meant trumps at cards-diamonds, spades, clubs-that is, I-" and off she stage he ran, and was with great difficulty persuaded to appear again that evening.

roar.

Enter WOODLEY and DIMITY.
Dim. Po! po!--no such thing-I tell you,
Mr. Woodley, you are a mere novice in these
affairs.

Dim. Attention! to be sure you did not fall asleep in their company; but what then? -You should have entered into their charac ters, play'd with their humours, and sacrificed to their absurdities.

Wood. But if my temper is too frankDim. Frank, indeed! yes, you have been Wood. Nay, but listen to reason, Mrs. Di- frank enough to ruin yourself.-Have not you mity-has not your master, Mr. Drugget, in- to do with a rich old shopkeeper, retired vited me down to his country seat, in order from business with an hundred thousand pounds to give me his daughter Nancy in marriage; in his pocket, to enjoy the dust of the Lonand with what pretence can he now break off? don road, which he calls living in the countDim. What pretence!-you put a body ry-and yet you must find fault with his siout of all patience-But go on your own way, tuation! What if he has made a ridiculous sir: ; my advice is all lost upon you. gimcrack of his house and gardens, you know Wood. You do me injustice, Mrs. Dimity his heart is set upon it; and could not you -your advice has governed my whole con- have commended his taste? But you must duct Have not I fixed an interest in the be too frank!-Those walks and alleys are young lady's heart? too regular-those evergreens should not be Dim. An interest in a fiddlestick! - you cut into such fantastic shapes.-And thus you ought to have made love to the father and advise a poor old mechanic, who delights in mother-what, do you think the way to get every thing that's monstrous, to follow nature a wife, at this time of day, is by speaking Oh, you're likely to be a successful lover! fine things to the lady you have a fancy for? Wood. But, why should I not save a faThat was the practice, indeed; but things ther-in-law from being a laughing-stock? are alter'd now-you must address the old Dim. Make him your father-in-law firstpeople, sir; and never trouble your head And then the mother; how have you play'd about your mistress-that's the way of the your cards in that quarter?-She wants world now. sel man of fashion for her second daughterWood. But you know, my dear Dimity, "Don't you sec," says she, "how happy my the old couple have received every mark of eldest girl is made by marrying sir Charles Racket? She has been married three entire

attention from me.

tin

weeks, and not so much as one angry word has pass'd between them-Nancy shall have a man of quality too.)

Dim. And then, Mr. Lovelace, I reckonNan. Pshaw! I don't like him; he talks to me as if he was the most miserable man in Wood. And yet I know sir Charles Racket the world, and the confident thing looks so perfectly-well. pleas'd with himself all the while. I want to Dim. Yes, so do I; and I know he'll make marry for love, and not for card-playing-l his lady wretched at last-But what then? should not he able to bear the life my sister You should have humour'd the old folks-you leads with sir Charles Racket-and I'll forfeit should have been a talking empty fop to the my new cap, if they don't quarrel soon. good old lady, and to the old gentleman an Dim. Oh! fie! no! they won't quarrel yet admirer of his taste in gardening. But you awhile.-A quarrel in three weeks after marhave lost him he is grown fond of his beau riage, would be somewhat of the quickestLovelace, who is here in the house with him; By-and-by we shall hear of their whims and the coxcomb ingratiates himself by flattery, their humours-Well, but if you don't like and you're undone by frankness. Mr. Lovelace, what say you to Mr. Woodley? Nan. I don't know what to say.

Re-enter WOODLEY.

Wood. And yet, Dimity, I won't despair. Dim. And yet you have reason to despair; a million of reasons-To-morrow is fix'd for the wedding-day; sir Charles and his lady Wood. My sweetest angel! I have heard are to be here this very night-they are en-all, and my heart overflows with love and gag'd, indeed, at a great rout in town but gratitude.

they take a bed here, notwithstanding.-The Nan. Ah! but I did not know you was family is sitting up for them; Mr. Drugget listening. You should not have betray'd me will keep you all up in the next room there, so, Dimity; I shall be angry with you. till they arrive- and to-morrow the business Dim. Well, I'll take my chance for thatis over-and yet you don't despair!-hush!- Run both into my room, and say all your hold your tongue; here comes Lovelace.-pretty things to one another there, for here Step in, and I'll devise something, I warrant comes the old gentleman-make haste away. you. [Exit Woodley] The old folks shall [Exeunt Woodley and Nancy. not have their own way-'tis enough to vex Enter DRUGget. a body, to see an old father and mother mar- Drug. A forward presuming coxcomb!-rying their daughter as they please, in spite Dimity, do you step to Mrs. Drugget, and send of all I can do. So, here comes our Nancy. her hither.

Enter NANCY.

Dim. Yes, sir-It works upon him. I see. [Aside, and exit. Nan. Well, Dimity, what's to become of me? Drug. The yew-trees ought not to be cut, Dim. My stars! what makes you up, miss? because they'll help to keep off the dust, and I thought you were gone to bed! I am too near the road already -a sorry, Nan. What should I go to bed for? Only ignorant fop!-When I am in so fine a sito tumble and toss, and fret and be uneasy-tuation, and can see every carriage that goes they are going to marry me, and I am fright-by. And then to abuse the nurseryman's ened out of my wits. rarities! A finer sucking pig in lavender,

Dim. Why then you're the only young with sage growing in his helly, was never lady within fifty miles round, that would be seen! And yet he wants me not to have it frighten'd at such a thing. -But have it I will.-There's a fine tree of knowledge too, with Adam and Eve in juniper; Eve's nose not quite grown, but it's thought in the spring it will be very forward

Nan. Ah! if they would let me choose for myself.

Dim. Don't you like Mr. Lovelace? Non. My mamma does, but I don't; I don't mind his being a man of fashion, not I.

Dim. And, pray, can you do better than

follow the fashion?

I'll have that too, with the serpent in groundivy-two poets in wormwood-I'll have them both. Ay, and there's a lord mayor's feast in honeysuckle, and the whole court of alderNan. Ah! I know there's a fashion for new men in hornbeam; with the dragon of Wantbonnets, and a fashion for dressing the hair-ley in box-all-all-I'll have 'em all, let my but I never heard of a fashion for the heart. wife and Mr. Lovelace say what they will. Dim. Why then, my dear, the heart mostly follows the fashion now.

Nan. Does it?-pray who sets the fashion.

of the heart?

Enter MRS. DRUGGET.

Mrs. D. Did you send for me, lovey?

Drug. The yew-trees shall be cut into the giants of Guildhall, whether you will or not. Mrs. D. Sure my own dear will do as he

Nan. And what's the last new fashion, pleases. pray?

Drug. And the pond, though you praise Dim. Why, to marry any fop that has a the green banks, shall be wall'd round, and few, deceitful, agreeable appearances about I'll have a little fat boy in marble, spouting him; something of a pert phrase, a good ope- up water in the middle. rator for the teeth, and a tolerable tailor. Nan. And do they marry without loving? Dim. Oh! marrying for love has been a whole catalogue-Do you think, after retiring great while out of fashion. to live all the way here, almost four miles Nan. Why, then I'll wait till that fashion from London, that I won't do as I please in comes up again.

Mrs. D. My sweet, who hinders you?
Drug. Yes, and I'll buy the nurseryman's

my own garden?

Mrs. D. My dear, but why are you in such of girls; our tempers accord like unisons in a passion?

music.

Drug. I'll have the lavender pig, and the Drug. Ah! that's what makes me happy in Adam and Eve, and the dragon of Wantley, my old days; my children and my garden and all of 'em-and there shan't be a more are all my care. romantic spot on the London road than mine. Sir C. And my friend Lovelace-be is to Mrs. D. I'm sure it's as pretty as hands have our sister Nancy, I find. can make it.

Drug. Why my wife is so minded. Drug. I did it all myself, aud I'll do more Sir C. Oh, by all means, let her be made -And Mr. Lovelace shan't have my daughter. happy-A very pretty fellow Lovelace-And Mrs. D. No! what's the matter now, Mr. as to that Mr.-Woodley I think you call Drugget? him-he is but a plain, underbred, ill-fashioned sort of a-nobody knows him; he is not one of us-Oh, by all means marry her to one of us. Drug. I believe it must be so-Would you take any refreshment?

Drug. He shall learn better manners than to abuse my house and gardens. You put him in the head of it, but I'll dissappoint ye both-And so you may go and tell Mr. Lovelace that the match is quite off.

Mrs. D. I can't comprehend all this, not I --but I'll tell him so, if you please, my dear -I am willing to give myself pain, if it wili give you pleasure: must I give myself pain? -Don't ask me, pray don't-I don't like pain. Drug. I am resolv'd, and it shall be so. Mrs. D. Let it be so then. [Cries] Oh! oh! cruel man! I shall break my heart if the match is broke off-if it is not concluded to-morrow, send for an undertaker, and bury me the next day.

Drug. How! I don't want that neither-
Mrs. D. Oh! oh!-

Drug. I am your lord and master, my dear, but not your executioner-Before George, it must never be said that my wife died of too much compliance-Cheer up, my love-and this affair shall be settled as soon as sir Charles and lady Racket arrive.

Mrs. D. You bring me to life again-You know, my sweet, what an happy couple sir Charles and his lady are Why should not we make our Nancy as happy?

-

Re-enter DIMITY.

Dim. Sir Charles and his lady, ma'am.

Sir C. Nothing in nature-it is time to re

tire.

Drug. Well, well! good night then, sir Charles-Ha! here comes my daughter-Good night, sir Charles.

Sir C. Bon repos.

Drug [Going out] My lady Racket, I'm glad to hear how happy you are, I won't detain you now-there's your good man waiting for you-good night, my girl.

[Exit

Sir C. I must humour this old putt, in order to be remember'd in his will.

Enter LADY RACKET.

Lady R. O la!-I'm quite fatigu'd-I-can hardly move-why don't you help me, you barbarous man?

Sir C. There, take my arm- Was ever thing so pretty made to walk? Lady R. But I won't be laugh'd at-I don't love you.

Sir C. Don't you?

Lady R. No. Dear me! this glove! why don't you help me off with my glove? pshaw! -You awkward thing, let it alone; you an't fit to be about me, I might as well not be Mrs. D. Oh! charming! I'm transported married, for any use you are of-reach me a with joy-Where are they? I long to see chair-you have no compassion for me--I am 'em! so glad to sit down-why do you drag me Dim. Well, sir; the couple are arriv'd. to routs? You know I hate 'em. Drug. Yes, they do live happy indeed. Dim. But how long will it last? Drug. How long! don't forbode any ill, you jade-don't, I say-It will last during their lives, I hope.

[Exit.

Dim. Well, mark the end of it-Sir Charles, I know, is gay and good humour'd-but he can't bear the least contradiction, no, not

in the merest trifle.

Sir C. Oh! there's no existing, no breathing, unless one does as other people of fashion do. Lady R. But I'm out of humour; I lost all my money.

Sir C. How much.

Lady R. Three hundred.

Sir C. Never fret for that-- I don't value three hundred pounds to contribute to your happiness.

Lady R. Don't you?—Not value three hundred pounds to please me?

Sir C. You know I don't.

Drug. Hold your tongue-hold your tongue. Dim. Yes, sir, I have done-and yet there is in the composition of sir Charles a certain humour, which, like the flying gout, gives no Lady R. Ah! you fond fool! -But I hate disturbance to the family till it settles in the gaming-It almost metamorphoses a woman head-When once it fixes there, mercy on into a fury-Do you know that I was frighevery body about him! but here he comes. tened at myself several times to-night-I ad [Exit. an huge oath at the very tip of my tongue. Sir C. Had ye? Lady R. I caught myself at it-and so Sir C. My dear sir, I kiss your hand-but bit my lips-and then I was cramm'd up in why stand on ceremony? To find you up a corner of the room with such a strange thus late, mortifies me beyond expression. party at a whist-table, looking at black and Drug. "Tis but once in a way, sir Charles. red spots-did you mind 'em? Sir C. My obligations to you are inexpressible; you have given me the most amiable

Enter SIR CHARLES RACKET.

Sir C. You know I was busy elsewhere.
Lady R. There was that strange, unaccount-

I