patch-Cupid, the little god of love-I conclude it, madam, with Cupid; I love to see a love-letter end like poetry. Olivia. Well, well, what you please, any thing. But how shall we send it? I can trust none of the servants of this family. Garnet. Odso, madam, Mr. Honeywood's butler is in the next room: he's a dear, sweet man; he'll do any thing for me. Jarvis. He! the dog, he'll certainly commit some blunder. He's drunk and sober ten times a day. Olivia. No matter. Fly, Garnet; any body we can trust will do. [Exit Garnet.] Well, Jarvis, now we can have nothing more to interrupt us. You may take up the things, and carry them on to the inn. Have you no hands, Jarvis? Jarvis. Soft and fair, young lady. You, that are going to be married, think things can never be done too fast: but we that are old, and know what we are about, must elope methodically, madam. Olivia. Well, sure, if my indiscretions were to be done over again Jarvis. My life for it, you yould do them ten times over. Olivia. Why will you talk so? If you knew how unhappy they make me————— Jarvis. Very unhappy, no doubt: I was once just as unhappy when I was going to be married myself. I'll tell you a story about that Olivia. A story! when I'm all impatience to be away. Was there ever such a dilatory creature !– Jarvis. Well, madam, if we must march, why we will march; that's all. Though, odds bobs, we have still forgot one thing, we should never travel without-a case of good razors, and a box of shaving-powder. But no matter, I believe we shall be pretty well shaved by the way. [Going. Enter GARNET. Garnet. Undone, undone, madam. Ah, Mr. Jarvis, you said right enough. As sure as death, Mr. Honeywood's rogue of a drunken butler dropp'd the letter before he went ten yards from the door. There's old Croaker has just pick'd it up, and is this moment reading it to himself in the hall. Olivia. Unfortunate! We shall be discovered. Garnet. No, madam: don't be uneasy, he can make neither head nor tail of it. To be sure he looks as if he was broke loose from Bedlam about it, but he can't find what it means for all that. O lud, he is coming this way all in the horrors! Olivia. Then let us leave the house this instant, for fear he should ask farther questions. In the mean time Gar net, do you write and send off just such another. [Exeunt. Enter CROAKER. Croaker. Death and destruction! Are all the horrors of air, fire and water to be levelled only at me! Am I only to be singled out for gunpowder-plots, combustibles and conflagration! Here it is-An incendiary letter dropped at my door. "To muster Croaker, these "with speed." Aye, aye, plain enough the direction: all in the genuine incendiary spelling, and as cramp as the devil. "With speed." O, confound your speed. But let me read it once more. (Reads) "Mus❝ter Croaker as sone as yoew see this leve twenty gui66 neas at the bar of the Talboot tell called for or yowe and yower experetion will be al blown up." An, but too plain. Blood and gunpowder in every line of it. Blown up! murderous dog! All blown up! Heavens! what have I and my poor family done, to be all blown up! (Reads) "Our pockets are low, and money we must have." Aye, there's the reason; they'll blow us up, because they have got low pockets. (Reads) "It is but a short time you have to consider; "for if this takes wind, the house will quickly be all "of a flame." Inhuman monsters! blow us up and then burn us. The earthquake at Lisbon was but a bonfire to it. (Reads.) "Make quick dispatch, and so no more at present. But may Cupid, the little "god of love, go with you wherever you go." The little god of love! Cupid the little god of love go with me! Go you to the devil, you and your little Cupid together; I'm so frightened, I scarce know whether I sit, stand, or go. Perhaps this moment I'm treading on lighted matches, blazing brimstone, and barrels of gunpowder. They are preparing to blow me up into the clouds. Murder! We shall be all burnt in our beds; we shall be all burnt in our beds. Enter Miss RICHLAND. Miss Richland. Lord, Sir, what's the matter? Croaker. Murder's the matter. We shall be all blown up in our beds before morning. I hope not, Sir. Miss Richland. Croaker. What signifies what you hope, madam, when I have a certificate of it here in my hand? Will nothing alarm my family? Sleeping and eating, sleeping and eating is the only work from morning till night in my house. My insensible crew could sleep, though rock'd by an earthquake; and fry beef steaks at a volcano. Miss Richland. But, Sir, you have alarmed them so often already, we have nothing but earthquakes, famines, plagues, and mad dogs from year's end to year's end. You remember, Sir, it is not above a month ago, you assured us of a conspiracy among the bakers, to poison us in our bread; and so kept the whole family a week upon potatoes. Croaker. And potatoes were too good for them. But why do I stand talking here with a girl, when I should be facing the enemy without? Here, John, Nicodemus, search the house. Look into the cellars, to see if there be any combustibles below; and above in the apartments, that no matches be thrown in at the windows. Let all the fires be put out, and let the engine be drawn out in the yard, to play upon the house in case of necessity. [Exit. Miss Richland. (alone.) What can he mean by all this? Yet, why should I enquire, when he alarms us in this manner almost eve→ ry day! But Honeywood has desired an interview with me in private. What can he mean? or rather what means this palpitation at his approach? It is the first time he ever shewed any thing in his conduct that seemed particular. Sure he cannot mean to but he's here. Enter HONEYWOOD. Honeywood. I presumed to solicit this interview, madam, before I left town, to be permitted Miss Richland. Indeed! Leaving town, Sir? Honeywood. Yes, madam; perhaps the kingdom. I have presumed, I say, to desire the favor of this interview, in |