SCENE I-A room in MRS GOODMAN's house.

Enter MOLLY, struggling with SPATTER. Mol. Be quiet, Mr Spatter! let me alone! Pray now, sir! It is a strange thing a body can't go about the house without being pestered with your impertinence-Why sure!

Spat. Introduce me to your mistress, thencome, there's a good girl!—and I will teaze you no longer.

Mol. Indeed I shan't-Introduce you to my lady! for what, pray?

Spat. Oh! for a thousand things. To laugh, to chat, to take a dish of tea, to—

Mol. You drink tea with my lady! I should not have thought of that-On what acquaintance?

Spat. The most agreeable in the world, child! a new acquaintance.

Mol. Indeed, you mistake yourself mightily you are not a proper acquaintance for a person of her quality, I assure you, sir!

Spat. Why, what quality is she, then? Mol. Much too high quality for your acquaintance, I promise you. What! a poet-man! that

sits write, write, write, all day long, scribbling a pack of nonsense for the newspapers !-You're fit for nothing above a chambermaid.

Spat. That's as much as to say, that you think me just fit for you. Eh, child?

Mol. No, indeed; not I, sir. Neither my lady nor I will have any thing to say to you.

Spat. Your mistress and you both give yourselves a great many airs, my dear. Your poverty, I think, might pull down your pride.

Mol. What does the fellow mean by poverty? Spat. I mean, that you are starving.

Mol. Oh the slanderous monster! We! Starving! Who told you so? I'd have you to know, sir, my lady has a very great fortune.

Spat. So 'tis a sign, by her way of life and appearance.

Mol. Well; she lives privately, indeed, because she loves retirement; she goes plain, because she hates dress; she keeps no table, because she is an enemy to luxury-In short, my lady is as rich as a Jew, and you are an impertinent coxcomb!

Spat. Come, come! I know more of your mistress than you imagine.

Spat. Very easily-I have correspondence everywhere. As private as she may think herself, it is not the first time that I have seen or heard of Amelia.

Mol. Oh gracious! as sure as I am alive this man will discover us! [Apart.] Mr Spatter, my dear Mr Spatter if you know any thing, sure you would not be so cruel as to betray us!

Spat. My dear Mr Spatter! O ho! I have guessed right-there is something then?

Mol. No, sir, there is nothing at all; nothing that signifies to you or any body else.

Spat. Well, well. I'll say nothing; but then, you must

Mol. What?

Spat. Come; kiss me, hussy!

they will take all the care in their power, that I shall not find them out-But I may be too hard for you yet, young gentlewoman! I have earned but a poor livelihood by mere scandal and abuse; but if I could once arrive at doing a little substantial mischief, I should make my fortune.

Enter MRS GOODMAN.

Oh! your servant, Mrs Goodman! Yours is the most unsociable lodging-house in town. So many ladies, and only one gentleman! and you won't take the least notice of him.

Mrs Good. How so, Mr Spatter?

Spat. Why, did not you promise to introduce me to Amelia?

Mrs Good. To tell you the plain truth, Mr Spatter, she don't like you. And, indeed, I don't know how it is, but you make yourself a great many enemies.

Spat. Yes; I believe I do raise a little envy.

Mrs Good. Indeed you are mistaken, sir. ́ ́As you are a lodger of mine, it makes me quite uneasy to hear what the world says of you. How do you contrive to make so many enemies, Mr

tress?

Mol. Not I, I promise you.

Spat. Nay, no mysteries between you and me, child! Come; here's the key to all locks, the clue to every maze, and the discloser of all secrets; money, child! Here, take this purse; you see I know something; tell me the rest, and I have the fellow to it in my pocket.

Mol. Ha, ha, ha! poor Mr Spatter! Where could you get all this money, I wonder! Not by your poetries, I believe. But what significs telling you any thing, when you are acquainted with our whole history already? You have correspondence everywhere, you know. There, sir! take up your filthy purse again, and remember, that I scorn to be obliged to any body but my mistress. Spat. There's impudence for you! when, to my certain knowledge, your mistress has not a guinea in the world; you live in continual fear of being discovered; and you will both be utterly undone in a fortnight, unless lord Falbridge should prevent it, by taking Amelia under his protection. You understand me, child?

Mol. You scandalous wretch! Did you ever hear such a monster? I won't stay a moment longer with him-But you are quite mistaken about me and my mistress, I assure you, sir. We are in the best circumstances in the world; we have nothing to fear; and we don't care a farthing for you-So your servant, Mr Poet!

[Exit. Spat. Your servant, Mrs Pert! "We are in the best circumstances in the world." Ay, that is as much as to say, they are in the utmost distress. "We have nothing to fear."-That is, they are frightened out of their wits-" And we don't care a farthing for you."-Meaning, that

Spat. Because I have merit, Mrs Goodman. Mrs Good. May be so; but nobody will allow it but yourself. They say that you set up for a wit, indeed; but that you deal in nothing but scandal, and think of nothing but mischief.

Spat. I do speak ill of the men sometimes, to be sure; but then, I have a great regard for women-provided they are handsome: and, that I may give you a proof of it, introduce me to Amelia."

Mrs Good. You must excuse me; she and you would be the worst company in the world; for she never speaks too well of herself, nor the least ill of any body else. And then her virtue—

Spat. Pooh, pooh! she speaks ill of nobody, because she knows nobody; and as for her virtue, ha, ha!

Mrs Good. You don't believe much in that, I suppose?

Spat. I have not overmuch faith, Mrs Goodman. Lord Falbridge, perhaps, may give a better account of it.

Mrs Good. Lord Falbridge can say nothing but what would be extremely to her honour, Ì assure you, sir. [SPATTER laughs.] Well, well, you may laugh, but it is very true.

Spat. Oh, I don't doubt it; but you don't tell the whole truth, Mrs Goodman. When any of your friends or acquaintance sit for their pictures, you draw a very flattering likeness. All characters have their dark side; and if they have but one eye, you give them in profile. Your great friend, Mr Freeport, for instance, whom you are always praising for his benevolent actions

Mrs Good. He is benevolence itself, sir.
Spat. Yes, and grossness itself, too. I remem

ber him these many years. He always cancels an obligation by the manner of conferring it; and does you a favour, as if he were going to knock you down.

Mrs Good. A truce with your satire, good Mr Spatter! Mr Freeport is my best friend; I owe him every thing; and I can't endure the slightest reflection on his character. Besides, he can have given no offence to Lady Alton, whatever may be the case with Amelia.

Spat. Lady Alton! she is a particular friend of mine to be sure; but, between you and me, Mrs Goodman, a more ridiculous character than any you have mentioned. A bel esprit forsooth! and as vain of her beauty as learning, without any great portion of either. A fourth grace, and a tenth muse! who fancies herself enamoured of Lord Falbridge, because she would be proud of such a conquest; and has lately bestowed some marks of distinction on me, because she thinks it will give her credit among persons of letters.

Mrs Good. Nay, if you can't spare your own friends, I don't wonder at your attacking mineand so, sir, your humble servant. But stay! here's a post-chaise stopped at our door; and here comes a servant with a portmanteau. Tis the gentleman for whom my first floor was taken, I suppose.

Spat. Very likely well, you will introduce me to him at least, Mrs Goodman.

Enter a Servant with a portmanteau-SIR WILLIAM DOUGLAS following.

Sir Wil. Lordship! I am no lord, sir, and must beg not to be honoured with the name. Spat. It is a kind of mistake, that cannot displease at least.

Sir Wil. I don't know that. None but a fool would be vain of a title, if he had one; and none but an impostor would assume a title, to which he has no right.

Spat. Oh, you're of the house of commons, then, a member of parliament, and are come up to town to attend the sessions, I suppose, sir? Sir Wil. No matter what I am, sir.

Spat. Nay, no offence, I hope, sir. All I meant was to do you honour. Being concerned in two evening posts, and one morning paper, I was willing to know the proper manner of announcing your arrival.

Sir Wil. You have connexions with the press, then, it seems, sir?

Spat. Yes, sir; I am an humble retainer to the Muses, an author. I compose pamphlets on all subjects, compile magazines, and do newspapers. Sir Wil. Do newspapers! What do you mean by that, sir?

Spat. That is, sir, I collect the articles of news from the other papers, and make new ones for the postscript; translate the mails, write occasional letters from Cato and Theatricus, and give fictitious answers to supposed correspondents.

Sir Wil. A very ingenious, as well as honourable employment, I must confess, sir.

Spat. Some little genius is requisite, to be sure. Now, sir, if I can be of any use to you—

Mrs Good. At your service, sir.

my to be abused; any author to cry up, or minister to run down; my pen and talents are en

Mrs Good. He has, sir.

Sir Wil. They are for me, madam-Have you any other lodgers?

Mrs Good. Only that gentleman, sir; and a young lady

Spat. Of great beauty and virtue. Eh, Mrs Goodman?

Mrs Good. She has both, sir; but you will see very little of her, for she lives in the most retired manner in the world.

Sir Wil. Her youth and beauty are matter of great indifference to me; for I shall be as much a recluse as herself.-Is there any news at present stirring in London?

Mrs Good. Mr Spatter can inform you, sir, for he deals in news. In the mean while, I'll prepare your apartments.

[Erit, followed by the servant. -SIR WILLIAM walks up and down, without taking notice of SPATTER. Spat. [Aside] This must be a man of quality, by his ill manners. I'll speak to him.-Will your lordship give me leave

VOL. II.

Sir Wil. I am much obliged to you, sir; but, at present, I have not the least occasion for either. In return for your genteel offers, give me leave to trouble you with one piece of advice. When you deal in private scandal, have a care of the cudgel; and when you meddle with public matters, beware of the pillory.

Spat. How, sir! are you no friend to literature? Are you an enemy to the liberty of the press?

Sir Wil. I have the greatest respect for both; but railing is the disgrace of letters, and personal abuse the scandal of freedom: foul-mouthed critics are, in general, disappointed authors; and they, who are the loudest against ministers, only mean to be paid for their silence.

Spat. That may be sometimes, sir; but give me leave to ask you———

Sir Wil. Do not ask me at present, sir! I see a particular friend of mine coming this way, and I must beg you to withdraw!

to

Spat. Withdraw, sir! first of all, allow me

Sir Wil. Nay, no reply! we must be in pri[Thrusting out SPATTER.

5 R

What a wretch! as contemptible as mischievous. Our generous mastiffs fly at men from an instinct of courage; but this fellow's attacks proceed from an instinct of baseness-But here comes the faithful Owen, with as many good qualities as that execrable fellow seems to have bad ones. Enter OWEN.

Well, Owen; I am safe arrived, you sec.

Owen. Ah, sir! would to heaven you were as safe returned' again! Have a care of betraying yourself to be sir William Douglas!--During your stay here, your name is Ford, remember.

Sir Wil. I shall take care-But tell me your news-What have you done since your arrival? Have you heard any thing of my daughter? Have you seen lord Brumpton? Has he any hope of obtaining my pardon?

Owen. He had, sir.

Owen. Be advised; depart, and leave that care to me. Consider, your life is now at stake.

Sir Wil. My life has been too miserable to render me very solicitous for its preservation— But the complection of the times is changed; the very name of the party, in which I was unhappily engaged, is extinguished, and the whole nation is unanimously devoted to the throne. Disloyalty and insurrection are now no more, and the sword of justice is suffered to sleep. If I can find my child, and find her worthy of me, I will fly with her to take refuge in some foreign country; if I am discovered in the search, I have still some hopes of mercy.

Owen. Heaven grant your hopes may be well founded!

Sir Wil. Come, Owen! let us behave at least with fortitude in our adversity! Follow me to my apartment, and let us consult what measures

Owen. I saw him within this week in apparent good health; he promised to exert his whole interest in your favour: by his own apooiutment I went to wait on him yesterday noon, when I was stunned with the news of his having died suddenly the evening before.

SCENE II-Changes to AMELIA's apartment.

Enter AMELIA and MOLLY.

Ame. Poor Molly! to be teased with that odious fellow, Spatter !

Mol. But, madam, Mr Spatter says he is acquainted with your whole history.

Owen. Alas, sir, none that are satisfactory. On the death of Mr Andrews, in whose care you left her, being cruelly abandoned by the relation who succeeded to the estate, she left the country some months ago, and has not since been heard

of.

Sir Wil. Unhappy there, too! When will the measure of my misfortunes be full? When will the malice of my fate be satisfied? Proscribed, condemned, attainted, (alas, but too justly!) 1 have lost my rank, my estate, my wife, my son, and all my family! One only daughter remains! Perhaps a wretched wanderer, like myself, perhaps in the extremest indigence, perhaps dishonoured-Ha! that thought distracts me!

Owen. My dear master, have patience! Do not be ingenious to torment yourself, but consult your safety, and prepare for your departure.

Sir Wil. No, Owen. Hearing, providentially, of the death of my friend Andrews, paternal care and tenderness drew me hither; and I will not quit the kingdom, till I learn something of my child, my dear Amelia, whom I left a tender innocent, in the arms of the best of women, twenty years ago. Her sex demands protection; and she is now of an age, in which she is more exposed to misfortunes, than even in helpless infancy.

Mol. Ah, my dear mistress, it is to no purpose to endeavour to hide it from the world. They will see poverty in my looks. As for you, you can live upon the air; the greatness of your soul seems to support you; but, lack-a-day! I shall grow thinner and thinner every day of my life.

Ame. I can support my own distress, but yours touches me to the soul. Poor Molly! the labour of my hands shall feed and clothe you-Here ! dispose of this embroidery to the best advantage; what was formerly my amusement, must now be come the means of our subsistence. Let us be obliged to nobody, but owe our support to industry and virtue.

Mol. You're an angel! let me kiss those dear hands that have worked this precious embroidery! let me bathe them with my tears! You're an angel upon carth. I had rather starve in your service, than live with a princess. What can I do to comfort you?

Ame. Thou faithful creature-only continue to be secret: you know my real character; you know I am in the utmost distress: I have opened my heart to you, but you will plant a dagger there, if you betray me to the world.

Mol. Ah, my dear mistress, how should I betray you! I go no where, I converse with nobody