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Miss Richland. Well ; it would be affectation any longer to pretend ignorance ; and I will own, Sir, I have long been prejudiced in his favor. It was but natural to wish to make his heart mine, as he seemed himself ignorant of its value,

Honeywood. I see she always loved him. ( Aside.) I find, madam, you're already sensible of his worth, his passion. How happy is my friend, to be the favorite of one with such sense to distinguish merit, and such beauty to reward it.

Miss Richland. Your friend, Sir! What friend ?

My best friend my friend Mr. Lofty, madam.

Miss Richland.

He, Sir!

Honeywood. Yes, he, madam. He is, indeed, what your warmest wishes might have formed him. And to his other qualities he adds that of the most passionate regard for


Miss Richland.


-No more of this, I beg you, Sir.

Honeywood. I see your confusion, madam, and know how to inierpret it. And, since I so plainly read the language

of your heart, shall I make my friend happy, by communicating your sentiments.

Miss Richland.

By no means.

Excuse me; I must; I know you desire it.

Miss Richland. Mr. Honeywood, let me tell you, that you wrong my sentiments and yourself. When I first applied to your friendship, I expected advice and assistance ; but now, Sir, I see that it is in vain to expect happiness from him, who has been so bad an economist of his own; and that I must disclaim his friendship who ceases to be a friend to himself.


Honeywood. How is this ! she has confessed she loved him, and yet she seemed to part in displeasure. Can I have done any thing to reproach myself with ? No: I believe not: yet, after all, these things should not be done by a third person ; I should have spared her confession. My friendship carried me a little too far.

Enter CROAKER, with a letter in his hand, and Mrs.


Mrs. Croaker. Ha! ha! ha! And so, my dear, it's your supreme wish that I should be quite wretched upon this occasion ? ha! ha!

Croaker, (mimicking.) Ha! ha! ha! And so, my dear, it's your supreme pleasure to give me no better consolation ?

Mrs. Croaker.

Positively, my dear; what is this incendiary stuff and trumpery to me? our house may travel through the air, like the house of Loretto, for ought I care, if I am to be miserable in it.

Croaker. Would to heaven it were converted into an house of correction for your benefit. Have we not every thing to alarm us? Perhaps this very moment the tragedy is beginning.

Mrs. Croaker.

Then let us reserve our distress till the rising of the curtain, or give them the money they want, and have done with them.

Croaker. Give them my money !- And pray, what right have they to my money?

Mrs. Croaker. And pray, what right then have you to my good humor?

Croaker. And so your good humor advises me to part with my money? Why then, to tell your good humor a piece of my mind, I'd sooner part with my wife. Here's Mr. Honeywood, see what he'll say to it. My dear Honeywood, look at this incendiary letter dropped at my door. It will freeze you with terror; and

yet lovey here can read it can read it, and laugh.

Mrs. Croaker.
Yes, and so will Mr. Honeywood.


If he does, I'll suffer to be hanged the next minute in the rogue's place, that's all.

Mrs. Croaker.

Speak, Mr. Honeywood; is there any thing more foolish than my husband's fright upon this occasion ?


It would not become me to decide, madam ; but doubtless, the greatness of his terrors, now, will but. invite them to renew their villainy another time.

Mrs. Croaker.

I told you, he'd be of my opinion.


How, Sir! do you maintain that I should lie down under such an injury, and shew, neither by my tears, nor complaints, that I have something of the spirit of a man in me?

Honeywood. Pardon me, Sir. You ought to make the loudest complaints, if you desire redress. The surest way to, have redress, is to be earnest in the pursuit of it.


Aye, whose opinion is he of now?

Mrs. Croaker.

you think that laughing off our fears is the

But don't

best way.

Honeywood. What is the best, madam, few can say ? but I'll mainttain it to be a very




But we're talking of the best. Surely the best way is to face the enemy in the field, and not wait till he plunders us in our very bed-chamber.

Honeywood. Why, Sir, as to the best, that—that's a very wise

way too.

Mrs. Croaker. But can any thing be more absurd, than to double our distresses by our apprehensions, and put it in the power of

every low fellow, that can scrawl ten words of wretched spelling, to torment us?

Honeywood. Without doubt, nothing more absurd.

Croaker. How! would it not be more absurd to despise the rattle till we are bit by the snake ?

Honeywood. Without doubt, perfectly absurd

Croaker. Then you are of my opinion?



Mrs. Croaker. And you reject mine?

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