I've composed an Epithalamium myself, for the occasion. 'tis so tender, so soft!

Flo. No wonder ;-it comes from a soft place. [pointing to his forehead.]

Bomb. Then my Ode to Sleep: "Awake, O Muse!”— and my Sonuet to Winter, beginning with "Hail !"

Flo. A sonnet to winter should always begin with hail. Bomb. I've been thinking what a charming Lucy you'd make for the Beggar's Opera.

Flo. Very likely; for we should be beggars ourselves! Bomb. How naturally we should play the Prison Scene together!

Flo. I'm afraid we should; but here comes Mrs Dunstable; shew her your Odes.-You must, however, bawl pretty loud, before she'll hear a word you say.

[Exit Flora, R.

Bornb. Bawl! I'll thunder! Enter MRS. DUNSTABLE, L. viewing herself in a pocketglass.

Mrs. D. Methinks, I never look'd more enchanting than I do at this moment! No wonder Jeremy was so much captivated with my appearance.

Bomb. See how the old lass keeps holding the mirror up to nature, or rather to ill-nature !-Now to astonish her with a stave of my own composing!

Bombast sings the following Air in the highest strain of affectution, using the most extravagant gestures:

AIR.

(TUNE." The Legacy.)

Charming Dorothy! Dorothy Dunstable!
Tall as Juno, as Venus fair!

Love reigns here, High Bailiff and Constable,
Major domo; he takes the chair!

Blythe he looks, as ne'er to snarl he meant;
Say but Aye, and he'll not say No!
Return, as member to Hymen's parliament,
Me, Love's candidate, bending low!

Charming Dorothy! What can the matter be?
How you stare! D'ye think I'm a ghost?
Where the deuce can her hearing, odd rat her! be?
Bless my soul! she's as deaf as a post!

Pink of excellence! Beauty's paragon!

Why do those cherry cheeks look so blue?
My heart's ta'en flight! it is like a cock sparrow, gone!
Hopp'd the twig, love! and flown to you!

Mrs. D. What does the capering gentleman mean ?—Is he also struck with my figure? [aside.] Where can Jeremy be all this time?

Bomb. O, I'm a key too low! I must speak a little louder. I'm sorry to find you are so deaf, Mrs. Dunstable. [Speaks loud.]

Mrs. D. Deaf!

Bomb. I wonder you don't carry a trumpet, madam, since the drum of your ear is so much out of repair! [Raises his voice still higher.

Mrs D. I don't understand you! Bomb. Poor woman, how very deaf she is! Let me aggravate my voice. Mrs. Dorothy Dunstable, I say!

[Bawls very loud in her ear. Mrs. D. Bless my heart, man, d'ye mean to stun me? Bomb. I understand you are a great lover of the Muses, ; so sit down, if you please.

Mrs. D

[Places her in a chair.

Mrs. D. Sit down!

Bomb. No standing room!

Mrs. D. I'll raise the house!

Bomb. [sings.] "Pray Goody, please to moderate the rancour of your tongue!"

Mrs. D. Help! help!

Bomb. Nay, madam, if you're determined to alarm the neighbourhood, I'm off. Exit in a hurry, as Swift says. [Exit Bombast, L.

Mrs. D. What a Turk! what a Saracen ! to insult one of the softer sex! But where can that sweet youth, Jeremy, be roving? Heigho! Cupid reigns sole monarch of this susceptible bosom !

Sir T. Thieves! Murder! A trick! I'm robbed, bit, bamboozled, and ruined! I'll have every soul in the house hanged! and old mother Dunstable whipped at the cart's tail! the villians could never have carried off my daughter without her connivance.

Enter DAVY DUMPLING, (cautiously,) R. ́

Davy D. Hush! your worship!-hush!there's a plot

Sir T. A plot, blockhead! Don't I know there's a plot ? An't I the dupe of the plot? Is'nt the plot blown to my utter shame and confusion? Won't the plot call me fool all the days of my life after?

Davy D. Then you won't be called fool many days! You've not got long to live.-Hush!-You'll be assassinated!

Sir T. What are you trying it on, too! Am I to be the butt of the whole house? Have a care, sirrah; have a care-I'm in no humour to be trifled with.

Davy D. It's no trifle, your worship-you'll be murdered.-Hush! and you shall hear all-As I wur passing by the library just now, I seed Sir Marmaduke and Billy

Bombast, as it wur, in close confabulation so thinks I to mysel

Sir T. What the devil signifies what you thought? Don't keep me upon hot irons!-What did you hear?-What did you see?

Davy D. Sir Marmaduke talked about dispatching the old gentleman→

Sir T. What old gentleman?

Dany D. Why your worship, to a dead sartainty! "Let's smother him," says he." No, no," says Billy. Sharp's the word-I'll stick him!" and he promised to perform it to-morrow night!

Sir T. Lord have mercy upon me!

Davy D. Billy said it would be so natural.
Sir T. Unnatural! the parricides!

Davy D. And that would surprise you a little.
Sir T. It has surprised me a great deal!

Davy D. "It will require some execution," said Sir Marmaduke.

Sir T. Execution, indeed! I'm struck all of a heap!What can be their motive? But no matter-there's not a moment to be lost. Run, Davy, and alarm the servants! Raise the house! Fetch the constable! [Exit Davy, r. Bombast enters (L.) in deep reverie, brandishing a dagger, and talking to himself.] O Lord! here comes one of the villains, ready armed for the business!

[Retires to the back of the scene. Bomb. Parry, carte, tierce! I'll pink the old boy to a miracle!

Sir T. O the parry, carte, villain !

Bomb. Here's a quietus! [Holding up the dagger.] Hip! That's the time oʻday. [Making a plunge.] Lie still, old Truepenny! Puts the dagger in his side pocket.]

Sir T. I breathe again!

Bomb. There'll be a scene after the murder! Out, damned spot! Wheu!-Who'd have thought the old man had got so much blood in him?

Sir T. [Rushing forward.] Who would indeed, villain! Had you not raised it by your abominable, wicked plot? Keep off-Stand-In the king's name, I charge you to surrender!

Bomb. Hah! By the Lord, our plot is as good a plot as ever was laid; an excellent plot.

Sir T. Go on; I'm a magistrate-confess, and discharge your conscience."

Bomb. That's discharged already! I am myself but indifferent honest.

Sir T. I don't doubt it! You must away to prison, sirrah! Here, Ralph! Davy! Where the devil are you all? [Davy and Servants enter with Sir Marmaduke, R.] Secure this villain!

Davy. Here be t'other conspirator, your worship.

Sir M. Upon my word, this is vastly uncivil! What d'ye mean?

Sir T. What do you mean? Parry carte! Pink me to a miracle!

Sir M. I protest

Sir T. So do 1! Sharp's the word! We'll stick him! Sir M. But, Sir Timothy

Sir T. Hip! That's the time o'day! O the cruel, abominable assassins! Hold 'em fast! Öff with 'em!

Bomb. Here's a gig!

[The Servants and Sir Timothy carry of Sir Marmaduke and Bombast, L.]

Enter JEREMY, R.

Jer. Ha ha ha! Sir Marmaduke Metaphor and Billy Bombast are fairly taken up and taken in! O Davy Dumpling, thou prince of dunderheads, how much is my master indebted to thy stupidity!

Enter FLORA, L.

Flo. What is the meaning of all this, Jeremy?

Jer. Why, Sir Marmaduke's tragedy!-I've no time to explain further; for here comes my intended.

Enter MRS. DUNSTABLE, R.

Mrs. D. [Whispering Jeremy.] Jeremy! I'm ready to

start.

Jer. I must get rid of old iniquity, or she'll spoil all. O thou disgrace to ancient ladies! But she raves! See how her eyes glare!

Mrs. D. You vile seducer of unsuspecting innocence! But I see it all! Have I read Religious Courtship? Have I studied the Whole Duty of Man for this? [Exit, K.

Enter SIR TIMOTHY and SIR MARMADUKE, L. Sir T. Ha! ha! ha! An odd blunder, indeed! A comical tragedy! You must pardon me for laughing, Sir Marmaduke. Sir M. All my tragedies have got a knack of making