order to disclose something which our long friendship prompts. And yet my fears

Miss Richland.

His fears! What are his fears to mine? (Aside.) We have indeed been long acquainted, Sir; very long. If I remember, our first meeting was at the French ambassador's. Do you recollect how you were pleas ed to rally me upon my complexion there?

Honeywood.

Perfectly, madam: I presumed to reprove you for painting: but your warmer blushes soon convinced the company, that the coloring was all from nature.

Miss Richland.

And yet you only meant it in your good-natured way, to make me pay a compliment to myself. In the same manner you danced that night with the most aukward woman in company, because you saw nobody else would take her out.

Honeywood.

Yes; and was rewarded the next night, by dancing with the finest woman in company, whom every body wished to take out.

Miss Richland.

Well, Sir, if you thought so then, I fear your judg ment has since corrected the errors of a first impres sion. We generally shew to most advantage at first. Our sex are like poor tradesmen, that put all their best goods to be seen at the windows.

Honeywood.

The first impression, madam, did indeed deceive me. I expected to find a woman with all the faults

of conscious flattered beauty. I expected to find her vain and insolent. But every day has since taught me that it is possible to possess sense without pride, and beauty without affectation.

Miss Richland.

This, Sir, is a style very unusual with Mr. Honeywood; and I should be glad to know why he thus attempts to increase that vanity, which his own lessons have taught me to despise.

Honeywood.

I ask pardon, madam. Yet, from our long friendship, I presumed I might have some right to offer, without offence, what you may refuse without offending.

Miss Richland.

Sir! I beg you'd reflect; though, I fear, I shall scarce have any power to refuse a request of yours ; yet you may be precipitate: consider, Sir.

Honeywood.

I own my rashness; but as I plead the cause of friendship, of one who loves-Don't be alarmed, madam-who loves you with the most ardent passion--whose whole happiness is placed in you

Miss Richland.

I fear, Sir, I shall never find whom you mean by this description of him.

Honeywood.

Ah, madam, it but too plainly points him out; though he should be too humble himself to urge his pretensions, or you too modest to understand them. Vol. II.

D

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?

Honeywood.

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

you.

Miss Richland.

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

Honeywood.

I see your confusion, madam, and know how to interpret 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.

Honeywood.

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.

[Exit.

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. CROAKER.

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.