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Cher. Ay! ten to one, father, he's a highwayman.

Bon. A highwayman! upon my life, girl, you have bit it, and this box is some new purchased booty.Now, could we find him out, the money were ours.

Cher. He don't belong to our gang.
Bon. What horses have they ?
Cher. The master rides upon a black.

Bon. A black! ten to one the man upon the black mare; and since he don't belong to our fraternity, we may betray him with a safe conscience: I don't think it lawful to harbour any rogues but my own. Lookye, child, as the saying is, we must go cunningly to work; proofs we must have; the gentleman's servant loves drink; I'll ply him that way, and ten to one he loves a wench; you must work him t'other way.

Cher. Father, would you have me give my secret for his?

Bon. Consider, child, there's two hundred pound, to boot. [Ringing without ] Coming, coming---child, mind your business.

[Exit BONIFACE. Cher. What a rogue is my father! My father! I deny it -My mother was a good, generous, frechearted woman, and I can't tell how far her goodnature might have extended for the good of lier coildren. This landlord of mine, for I think I can call him no more, would betray his guest, and de auch his daughter into the bargain, by a footman too!

Enter ARCHER. Arch. What footman, pray, Mistress, is so happy as to be the subject of your contemplation?

Cher. Whoever he is, friend, he'll be but little the better for't.

Arci, I hope so, for, I'm sure, you did not think

of me.

Cher. Suppose I had?
Arch. Why then you're but even with me; for the

minute I came in, I was considering in what manner I should make love to you.

Cher. Love to me, friend!
Arch. Yes, child.

Cher. Child! manners; if you kept a little more distance, friend, it would become you much better.

zirch. Distance! good night, saucebox. [Going.

Cher. A pretty fellow; I like his pride.—Sir-pray, sir--you see, sir. [ARCHIER returns.] I have the credit to be entrusted with your master's fortune here, which sets me a degree above his footman; I hope, sir, you an't artionted.

Arch. Let me look you full in the face, and I'll tell you whether you can affront me or no. -'Sdeath, child, you have a pair of delicate

eyes,
and

you don't know what to do with them.

Cher. Why, sir, don't I see every body!

Arch. Ay, but if some women had them, they would kill every body. -Pr’ythee instruct me; I would fain make love to you, but I don't know what to say.

Cher. Why, did you never make love to any body before?

Arch. Never to a person of your figure, I can assure you, madam; my addresses have been always contined to people within my own sphere, I never aspired so high before.

[ARCHER sings.

But you look so bright,
And are dress'd so tight,
That a man would swear you're right,
As ar? was c'er laid over.

Cher. Will you give me that song, sir? Arch. Ay, my dear, take it while it is warm. [Kisses her.] Death and fire! her lips are honeyconabs.

Cher. And I wish there had been a swarm of bees too, to have stung you for your impudence.

Arch. There's a swarm of Cupids, my little Venus, that has done the business much better.

Cher. This fellow is misbegotten, as well as I. [iiside.] What's your name, sir?

Arch. Name! egad, I have forgot it. [Aside.] Oh, Martin.

Cher. Where were you born ?
Arch. In St. Martin's parish.
Cher. What was your father?
Arch. Of-of--St. Martin's parish.
Cher. Then, friend, good night.
Arch. I hope not.
Cher. You may depend upon't.
srch. Upon what?
Cher. That you're very impudent.
Arch. That you're very handsome.
Cher. That you're a footman.
Arch. That you're an angel.
Cher. I shall be rude.
Arch. So shall I.
Cher. Let go my hind.
Arch. Give me a kiss.

[Kisses her. Boniface. [Calls without ] Cherry, Cherry!

Cher. I'm-My father calls; you plaguy devil, how durst you stop my breath so?-Offer to follow me one step, if you dare.

Arch. A fair challenge, by this light; this is a pretty fair opening of an adventure; but we knight-errants, and so fortune be our guide! [Exit.

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Mrs. SULLEN and DORINDA meeting. Dor. 'Morrow, my dear sister; are you for church this morning

Nirs. Sul. Any where to pray; for Heaven alone can help me: but I think, Dorinda, there's no form of prayer in the Liturgy against bad husbands.

Dor. But there's a form of law at Doctors' Commons; and I swear, sister Sullen, rather than see you thus continually discontented, I would advise you to apply to that: for besides the part that I bear in your vexatious broils, as being sister to the husband, and friend to the wife, your examples give me such an impression of matrimony, that I shall be apt to condemn my person to a long vacation all its lifeBut supposing, mada:n, that you brought it to a case of separation, what can you urge against your husband? my brother is, first, the most constant man alive.

Mrs. Sul. The most constant husband, I grant ye.
Dor. He never sleeps from you.
Mfrs, Sul. No, he always sleeps with me.

Dor. He allows you a maintenance suitable to your quality.

Mrs. Sul. A maintenance! do you take me, madam, for an hospital child, that I must sit down and bless my benefactors, for meat, drink, and clothes?

As I take it, madam, I brought your brother ten thousand pounds, out of which I might expect some pretty things, called pleasures.

Dor. You share in all the pleasures that the country affords.

Mrs. Sul. Country pleasures! racks and torments ! dost think, child, that my limbs were made for leaping of ditches. and clambering over stiles; or that my parents, wisely foreseeing my future happiness in country pleasures, had early instructed me in the rural accomplishinents of drinking fat ale, playing at whist, and smoaking tobacco with my husband; and stilling rosemary water, with the good old gentlewo. man my mother-in-law ?

Dor. I'm sorry, madam, that it is not more in our power to divert you; I could wish, indeed, that our entertainments were a little more polite, or your taste a little less refined ; but pray, madam, how came the poets and philosophers, that laboured so much in hunting after pleasure, to place it at last in a country life?

AIrs.'Sul. Because they wanted money, child, to find out the pleasures of the town: Did you ever hear of a poet or philosopher worth ten thousand pounds ? if you can shew me such a man, I'll lay you fifty pounds you'll find him somewhere within the weekly bills. Not that. I disapprove rural pleasures, as the poets bave painted them in their landscapes; every Phyllis has her Corydon, every murmuring stream, and every flowery mead give fresh alarms to loveBesides, you'll find, their couples were never married:

--But yonder, I see my Corydon, and a sweet swain it is, iieaven knows---Come, Dorinda, don't be angry, he's my husband, and your brother, and between both, is he not a sad biute?

Dor. I have nothing to say to your part of him ; you're the best judge.

Mrs. Sul. O sister, sister! if erer you marry, be

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