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lowing my master's example in the woods.--Like master, like man, Sir.

Sir C. But you would not sell her, and be haug'd to you, you dog, would you ?

Trudge. Hang me, like a dog, if I would, Sir.

Sir C. So say I to every fellow that breaks an obligation due to the feelings of a man. But, old Mediuin, what have you to say for your hopeful uephew.

Med. I never speak ill of my friends, Sir Christopher. Sir C. Pshaw !

Inkle. [Comes down, L.] Then let me speak : hear me defend a conduct

Sir C. Defend ! Zounds! plead guilty at once it's the only hope left of obtaining mercy.

Inkle. Suppose, old gentleman, you had a son ?

Sir C. 'Sblood! then I'd make him an honest fellow; and teach him that the feeling heart never knows greater pride than when it's employed in giving succour to the unfortunate. I'd teach him to be his father's own son to a hair.

Inkle. Even so my father tutored me, from infancy, bending my tender mind, like a young sapling, to his will -interest was the grand prop round which he twined my pliant green affections: taught me in childhood to repeat old sayings—all tending to his own fixed principles; and the first sentence that I ever lisped, was Charity begins at home.

Sir C. I shall never like a proverb again, as long as I live.

Inkle. As I grew up, he'd prove-and by example were I in want, I might e'en starve, for what the world cared for their neighbours; why then should I care for the world ? Men now lived for themselves. These were his doctrines; then, Sir, what would you say, should I, in spite of habit, precept, education, fly in my father's face, and spurn his councils ?

Sir C. Say! why, that you were a damned honest un. dutiful fellow. 0, curse such principles ! Principles, which destroy all confidence between man and inan-Priuciples, which none but a rogue could instil, and none but a rogue could imbibe. Principles

Inkle. Which I renounce.
Sir C. Eh!

Inkle. Renounce entirely. Ill-founded precept too long has steeled my breast--but still 'tis vulnerable--this trial was too much-nature, 'gainst habit, combating within me, has penetrated to my heart ; a heart, I own, long callous to the feelings of sensibility ; but now it bleedsmand bleeds for my poor Yarico. Oh, let me clasp her to it, while'tis glowing, and mingle tears of love and penitence.

[Embracing her. Trudge. [Capering about.] Wows, give me a kiss !

[Wowski goes to Trudge. Yar. And shall we- - shall we be happy? Inkle. Aye; ever, ever, Yarico.

Yar. I knew we should-and yet I feared-but shall I still watch over you? Oh! love, you surely gave your Yarico such pain only to make her feel this happiness the greater.

Wow. [Going to Yarico.] Oh, Wowski so happy !-and yet I think I not glad neither.

Trudge. Eh, Wows! How !-why not?
Wow. 'Cause I can't help cry.

Sir C. Then, if that's the case-curse me, if I think I'm very glad either. What the plague's the matter with my eyes ? -Young man, your hand I am now proud and happy to shake it.

Med. Well, Sir Christopher, what do you say to my hopeful nephew now?

Sir C. Say! Why, confound the fellow, I say, that it is ungenerous enough to remember the bad action of a man who has virtue left in his heart to repent it. As for you, my good fellow, [To Trudge.] I must, with your master's permission, employ you myself.

Trudge. O, rare !--Bless your honour!_Wows ! you'll be lady, you jade, to a Governor's factotum.

W ow. Iss.- I Lady Jacktotum.

Sir C. Aud now, my young folks, we'll drive home, and celebrate the wedding. Od's my life! I long to be shaking a foot at the fiddles ; and I shall dance ten times the lighter for reforming an Inkle, while I have it in my power to reward the innocence of a Yarico.


La Belle Catherine."
Come let us dance and sing,
While all Barbadoes bells shall ring
Love scrapes the fiddle-string,

And Venus plays the lute;


Hymen gay foots away,
Happy at our wedding day,
Cocks his chin, and figures in,
To tabor, fife, and fute.

Come let us dance and sing,

While all Barbadoes bells shall ring, &c.
Nar. Since thus each anxious care

Is vanished into empty air,
Ah! how can I forbear

To join the jocund dance ?
To and fro, couples go,
On the light fantastic toe,
While with glee, merrily,
The rosy hours advance.

Trudge. Sbobs! now I'm fixed for life,'

My fortune's fair, though black's my wife,
Who fears domestic strife-

Who cares now a souse !
Marry, cheer my diugy dear
Shall find with her factotum here;
Night and day, I'll frisk and play

About the house, with Wows. Chorus
Yar. When first the swelling sea

Hither hore my love and me,
What then my fate would be,

Little did I think-
Doomed to know care and woe,
Happy still is Yarico;
Since her love will constant prove,

And nobly scorns to shrink. Chorus





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Sir Guy. Damn the turnips-nothing but the cover can save him - he gains it—rush they all go in-not a skirter among them-how terribly they press

they are on him—they have him—who whoop -huntsman, my old boy !

Act I, Scene 2.

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