coach at an inn-door. Have you depofited the casket with the landlady, as I ordered you? Have you put it into her own hands?

Ser. Yes, your honour.

Mar. She faid he'd keep it fafe, did she ?

Ser. Yes, the faid fhe'd keep it fafe enough: fhe afk'd me how I came by it? and fhe faid fhe had a great mind to make nie give an account of myself.

[Exit Servant.

Mar. Ha! ha ha! They're fafe however. What an unaccountable fet of beings have we got amongst ! This little bar-maid tho' runs in my head moft ftrangely, and drives out the abfurdities of all the reft of the family. She's mine, the muft be mine, or l'in greatly niistaken.

Enter HASTINGS.

Haft. Blefs me! I quite forgot to tell her that I intended to prepare at the bottom of the garden. Mar. low here, and in fpirits too!

Mar. Give me joy, George! Crown me, fhadow me with laurels! Well, George, after all, we modest fellows don't want for fuccefs among the women..

Haft. Some women you mean. But what fuccefs has your honour's modefty been crowned with now, that it grows fo infolent upon us ?

Mar. Didn't you fee the tempting, brifk, lovely, little thing that runs about the house with a bunch of keys to its girdle?

Haft. Well! and what then?

Mar. She's mine, you rogue you. Such fire, fuch

fych

motion, fuch eyes, fuch lips-but, egad! fhe would not let me kiss them though.

Haft. But are you fo fure, fo very fure of her?

Mar. Why, man, fhe talked of fhewing me her work above-stairs, and I am to improve the pattern. Haft. But how can you, Charles, go about to rob a woman of her honour ?

Mar. Phaw! pfhaw! We all know the honour of the bar-maid of an inn. I don't intend to rob her, take

my word for it ; there's nothing in this houfe, I shan't honeftly pay for.

Haft. I believe the girl has virtue.

Mar. And if he has, I fhould be the laft man in the world that would attempt to corrupt it.

Haft. You have taken care, I hope, of the casket I fent you to lock up? It's in fafety?

Mar. Yes, yes. It's fafe enough. I have taken care of it. But how could you think the feat of a poft-coach at an inn-door a place of fafety? Ah! numbskull! I have taken better precautions for you than you did for. yourfelf. I have

Haft. What!

Mar. I have fent it to the landlady to keep for you. Haft. To the landlady!

Mar. The landlady.

Haft. You did?

Mar. I did. She's to be anfwerable for its forth

coming, you know.

Haft. Yes, he'll bring it forth, with a witness.

Mar. Wasn't I right? I believe you'll allow that I afted prudently upon this occafion?

Haft. (Afide) He must not fee my uneasiness. Mar. You feem a little difconcerted though, methinks. Sure nothing has happened?

Haft. No, nothing. Never was in better spirits in all my life. And fo you left it with the landlady, who, no doubt, very readily undertook the charge?

Mar. Rather too readily. For the not only kept the cafket; but, thro' her great precaution, was going to keep the meffenger too. Ha! ba! ha!

Haft. He he he! They're fafe however.
Mar. As a guinea in a miser's purse.

Haft. (Afide) So now all hopes of fortune are at an end, and we must fet off without it. (To him) Well, Charles, I'll leave you to your meditations on the prettybar-maid, and, he, he, he, may you be as successful for yourself as you have been for me. [Exit Mar. Thank ye, George! I ask no more. Ha! ha§ bak

Enter HARDCASTLE.

Fiard. I no longer know my own house. It's turned all topfey-turvey. His fervants have got drunk already. I'll bear it no longer, and yet, from my refpect for his father, I'll be calm. (To him) Mr. Marlow, your fervant. I'm your very humble fervant.

[Bowing low.

Mar. Sir, your humble fervant. (Afide) What's to be the wonder now?

Hard. I believe, fir, you must be fenfible, fir, that no man alive ought to be more welcome than your fa ther's fon, fir. I hope you think fol

Mar. I do from my foul, fir. I don't want much intreaty. I generally make my father's fon welcome wherever he goes.

Hard. I believe you do, from my foul, fir. But tho* I fay nothing to your own conduct, that of your fervants is infufferable. Their manner of drinking is fetting a very example in this house, I affure you.

Mar. I proteft, my very good fir, that's no fault of mine. If they don't drink as they ought, they are to blame. I ordered them not to fpare the cellar. I did, I affure you. (To the fide scene) Here, let one of my fervants come up. (To him) My pofitive directions were, that as I did not drink myself, they should make up for my deficiencies below.

Hard. Then they had your orders for what they do! I'm fatisfied!

Mar. They had, I affure you. You fhall hear from one of themselves.

Enter SERVANT, drunk.

Mar. You, Jeremy! Come forward, firrah! What were my orders? Were you not told to drink freely, and call for what you thought fit, for the good of the houfe ?

Hard. (Afide) I begin to lofe my patience.

Jer. Please your honour, liberty and Fleet-street for ever! Tho' I'm but a fervant, I'm as good as another mian. I'll drink for no man before fupper, fir, dammy ! Good liquor will fit upon a good fupper, but a good fupper will not fit upon hiccup upon my coa

fcience, fir.

Mar. You fee, my old friend, the fellow is asdrunk as he can poffibly be. I don't know what you'd have more, unless you'd have the poor devil soufed in a beerbarrel.

Hard. Zounds! he'll drive me diftracted if I contain myelf any longer. Mr. Marlow. Sir; I have fubmitted to your infolence for more than four hours, and I fee no likelihood of its coming to an end. I'm now resolved to be master here, fir, and I defire that you and your drunken pack may leave my house directly.

Mar. Leave your house! -Sure you jeft, my good friend? What, when I'm doing what I can to please you. Hard. I tell you, fir, you don't please me; fo I defire you'll leave my house.

Mar. Sure you cannot be ferious? -At this time o'night, and fuch a night. You only mean to banter

me ?

Hard. I tell you, fir, I'm ferious; and, now that my paffions are rouzed, I say this house is mine, fir; this houfe is mine, and I command you to leave it directly.

Mar. Ha ha ha! A puddle in a storm. I shan't ftir a step, I affure you. (In a ferious tone) This, your houfe, fellow, it's my house. This is my house, mine, while I choose to ftay. What right have you to bid me leave this house, fir? I never met with fuch impudence, curfe me, never in my whole life before.

Hard. Nor I, confound me if ever I did. To come to my house, to call for what he likes, to turn me out of my own chair, to infult the family, to order his fervants to get drunk, and then to tell me, This house is mine, fir. By all that's impudent it makes me laugh, Ha ha ha! Pray, fir, (bantering) as you take the houfe, what think you of taking the reft of the furniture?