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Sulky. I have received a letter, from which I learn, it was at last discovered, carefully locked up in a private drawer; and that it is now a full month since a gentleman of Montpelier, coming to England, was entrusted with it. But no such gentleman has yet appeared.

Milf, If it should have got into the hands of the Widow

Sulky. Which I suspect it has !You are a couple of pretty gentlemen !--But, beware! Misfortune is at your heels! Mr Dornton vows vengeance on you both, and justly.--lle is not gone to bed; and, if you have confidence enough to look him in the face, I would have you stay where you are. Milf. I neither wish to insult, nor be insulted.

[Erit. Sulky. Do you know, sir, your father turned the poor fellow into the street, who compassionately opened the door for you?

Harry. Yes ;-and my father knows I as como: passionately opened the door for the poor fellow in return.

Sulky. Very well, sir! Your fame is increasing daily.

Harry. I am glad to hear it.

Sulky. Humph! Then perhaps you have paragraphed yourself?

Harry. Paragraphed ! What? Where?
Sulky. In the St James's Evening.
Harry. Me?
Sulky. Stating the exact amounta
Harry. Of my loss?

Sulky. Yours-You march through every avenue to fame, dirty or clean.

Harry. Well said !-Be witty when you can; sar. castic you must be, in spite of your teeth. But I. like you the better. You are honest. You are my Gruet of Cayenne, and a sprinkling of you is excellento

to stay

Sulky. Well, sir, when you know the state of your own affairs, and to what you have reduced the house, you will perhaps be less ready to grin.

Harry. Reduced the house! Ha, ha, ha!
Enter MR DORNTON, with a Newspaper in his hand.

Dorn. So, sir!
Harry. (Bowing.) I am happy to see you, sir.

Dorn. You are there, after having broken into my house at midnight !-And you are here, [Pointing to the

paper. ] after having ruined me and my house by your unprincipled prodigality! Are you not a scoundrel ?

Harry. No, sir: I am only a fool.
Sulky. Good night to you, gentlemen.
Dorn. Stay where you are, Mr Sulky. I beg you

where you are, and be a witness to my solemn renunciation of him and his vices !

Sulky. I have witnessed it a thousand times.

Dorn. But this is the last. Are you not a scouña drel, I say?

Harry. I am your son.
Dorn. [Calling.] Mr Smith! Bring in those deeds.

Enter MR SMITII. You will not deny you are an incorrigible squanderer?

Harry. I will deny nothing.
Dorn. A nuisance, a wart, a blot, a stain upon

the face of nature !

Harry. A stain that will wash out, sir.

Dorn. A redundancy, a negation; a besotted sophisticated incumbrance; a jumble of fatuity; your head, your heart, your words, your actions, all a jar. gon; incoherent and unintelligible to yourself, ab. surd and offensive to others !

Sulky. The whirlwind is rising.
Hairy. I am whatever you please, sir.


Dorn. Bills never examined, every thing bought on credit, the price of nothing asked! Conscious you were weak enough to wish for baubles you did not want, and pant for pleasures you could not enjoy, you had not the effrontery to assume the circumspect caution of common sense! And to your other destructive follies, you must add the detestable vice of gaming!

Harry. These things, sir, are much easier done than defended.

Dorn. But here-Give me that parchment! [To MR SMITH.] The partners have all been summoned. Look, sir! your name has been formally erased!

Harry. The partners are very kind.

Dorn. The suspicions already incurred by the known profligacy of a principal in the firm, the immense sunis you have drawn, this paragraph, the on the house it will occasion, the consternation of the whole cityHarry. All very terrible, and some of it very true.

(Half uside. Dorn. [Passionately.] Give me the will, Mr Smith! Give me the will! Fond and foolish as I have been, read, and you will find I am at last restored to my senses !--If I should happily outlive the storm you buve raised, it shall not be to support a prodigal, or to reward a gambler —You are disinlierited !-Read !

Harry. Your word is as good as the Bank, sir.

Dorn. I'll no longer act the doting father, fascinated by your arts.

Harry. I never had any art, sir, except the one you taught me.

Dorn. I taught you! What, scoundrel ? What?
Harry. That of loving you, sir,
Dorn. Loving me!
Harry. Most sincerely!

Dorn. (Forgetting his passion.] Why, can you say, Harry-Rascal! I mean, that

you love


Harry. I should be a rascal indeed if I did not, sir.

Dorn. Harry! Harry! (Struggling with his feelings.] No; confound me if I do!Sir, you are a yile

Harry. I know I am. Dorn. And I'll never speak to you more. (Going. Harry. Bid me good night, sir. Mr Sulky, here, will bid me good night, and you are my father!. Good night, Mr Sulky. Sulky: Good night.

[Exit. Harry. Come, sir.

Dorn. [Struggling with passion.] I won't !If I do!

Harry. Reproach me with my follies, strike out my name, disinherit me, I deserve it all, and

more But say, good night, Harry!

Dorn. I won't I won't! -I won't !

Harry. Poverty is a trifle; we can whistle it off But enmity

Dorn. I will not !

Harry. Sleep in enmity? And who can say how soundly? -Come! good night. Dorn. I won't! I won't !

[Runs off Harry. Say you so ?-Why, then, my noble-hearted dad, I am indeed a scoundrel !

Re-enter MR DORNTON.
Dorn. Good night!

[Exit. Harry. Good night! And Heaven eternally bless you, sir! Heigho!



The House of the Widow WARREN.


Jenny. I tell you, good woman, I can do nothing for

you. Mrs L. Only let me see Mrs Warren. Jenny. And get myself snubbed. Not I indeed.

Enter Sqphia, skipping. Soph. La, Jenny! Yonder's my mamma, with a whole congregation of milliners, mantua-makers,mercers, haberdashers, lace-men, feather-men, and-and all the world, consulting about second mourning!

Jenny. I know it.

Soph. It will be six months to-morrow since the death of my father-in-law.

Jenny. How you run on, zniss !

Soph. What would my dear grandma' say, if she saw her! Why, she is even fonder of finery than I am!

Jenny. Sure, miss, you are not fond of finery?

Soph, Oh but I am I wonder why she won't let me wear high-heeled shoes! I am sure I am old enough! I shall be eighteen next Christmas day, at midnight : which is only nine mopths and two days! And, since she likes to wear slips, and sashes, and ringlets and-nonsense, like a girl, why should not I have high heels, and gowns and festinis, and hoopis:

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