fool of you? I've done it, and glory in the act: disscmbling to the prejudice of men, is virtue; and every look, or sign, or smile, or tear that can deceive, is meritorious.

Colonel S. Very pretty principles, truly. If there be truth in woman, 'tis now in thee. Come, madam, you know that you're discovered, and, being sensible that you cannot escape, you would now turn to bay. That ring, madam, proclaims you guilty.

Lady L. O monster, villain, perfidious villain! Has he told you?

Colonel S. I'll tell it you, and loudly too.

Lady L. O, name it not- -Yet, speak it out, 'tis so just a punishment for putting faith in man, that I will bear it all. Speak now, what his busy scandal, and your improving malice, both dare utter.

Colonel S. Your falsehood can't be reached by malice nor by satire; your actions are the justest libel on your fame; your words, your looks, your tears, I did believe in spite of common fame. Nay, 'gainst mine own eyes, I still maintained your truth. I imagined Wildair's boasting of your favours to be the pure result of his own vanity: at last he urged your taking presents of him; as a convincing proof of which, you yesterday from him received that ring, which ring, that I might be sure he gave it, I lent him for that purpose.

Lady L. Ha! you lent it him for that purpose !

Colonel S. Yes, yes, madam, I lent it him for that purpose No denying it-I know it well, for I have worn it long, and desire it now, madam, to restore it to the just owner.

Lady L. The just owner! Think, sir, think but of what importance 'tis to own it: if you have love and honour in your soul, 'tis then most justly yours; if not, you are a robber, and have stolen it basely.

Colonel S. Ha! your words, like meeting flints, have struck a light, to show me something strange

-But tell me instantly, is not your real name Manly?

Lady L. Answer me first: did not you receive this ring about twelve years ago?

Colonel S. I did.

Lady L. And were not you about that time entertained two nights at the house of Sir Oliver Manly, in Oxfordshire?

Colonel S. I was! I was! [Runs to her, and embraces her.] The blest remembrance fires my soul with transport- -I know the rest--you are the charming she, and I the happy man.

Lady L. How has blind fortune stumbled on the right? But where have you wandered since ?—'Twas cruel to forsake me.

Colonel S. The particulars of my fortune are too tedious now but to discharge myself from the stain of dishonour, I must tell you, that immediately upon my return to the university, my elder brother and I quarrelled my father, to prevent farther mischief, posts me away to travel: I wrote to you from London, but fear the letter came not to your hands.

Lady L. I never had the least account of you by letter, or otherwise.

Colonel S. Three years I lived abroad, and at my return, found you were gone out of the kingdom, though none could tell me whither: missing you thus, I went to Flanders, served my king till the peace commenced; then fortunately going on board at Amsterdam, oue ship transported us both to England. At the first sight I loved, though ignorant of the hidden cause- -You may remember, madam, that, talking once of marriage, I told you I was engaged-to your dear self I meant.

Lady L. Then men are still most generous and brave and, to reward your truth, an estate of three thousand pounds a year waits your acceptance; and,

if I can satisfy you in my past conduct, I shall expect the honourable performance of your promise, and that you will stay with me in England.

Colonel S. Stay--Nor fame, nor glory e'er shall part us more. My honour can be no where more concerned than here.

Enter SIR H. WILDAIR and ANGELICA.

Oh, Sir Harry! Fortune has acted miracles to-day: the story's strange and tedious, but all amounts to this-that woman's mind is charming as her person, and I am made a convert too to beauty.

Sir H. I wanted only this, to make my pleasure perfect.

Enter SMUGGLER.

Smug. So, gentlemen and ladies, I'm glad to find you so merry; is my gracious nephew among ye?

Sir H. Sir, he dares not show his face among such honourable company; for your gracious nephew is

Smug. What, sir? Have a care what you say.
Sir H. A villain, sir.

Smug. With all my heart. I'll pardon you the beating me, for that very word. And pray, Sir Harry, when you see him next, tell him this news from me, that I have disinherited him-that I will leave him as poor as a disbanded quarter-master.-Oh, Sir Harry, he is as hypocritical

Lady L. As yourself, Mr. Alderman. How fares my good old nurse, pray, sir?-Come, Mr. Alderman, for once let a woman advise:--Would you be thought an honest man, banish covetousness, that worst gout of age: avarice is a poor pillering quality, of the soul, and will, as certainly cheat, as a thief would steal. Would you be thought a reformer of the times, be less severe in your censures, less rigid in your precepts, and more strict in your example.

Sir H. Right, madam, virtue flows freer from imitation than compulsion; of which, colonel, your conversion and mine, are just examples.

In vain are musty morals taught in schools,
By rigid teachers, and as rigid rules,

Where virtue with a frowning aspect stands,
And frights the pupil from its rough commands.
But woman-

Charming woman can true converts make,
We love the precept for the teacher's sake.
Virtue in them appears so bright, so gay,
We hear with transport, and with pride obey.
[Exeunt omnes.

THE END.