Sir P. Sit you down, Maister Sidney; sit you down

here by me. [They sit.] My friend, I am under the greatest obligations till you for the care you have taken of Charles. The principles, religious, moral, and political, that you have infused intill him, demand the warmest return of gratitude both fra him and fra me.

Sid. Your approbation, sir, next to that of my own conscience, is the best test of my endeavours, and the highest applause they can receive.

Sir P. Sir, you deserve it, richly deserve it. And now, sir, the same care that you have had of Charles, the same my wife has taken of her favourite Constantia -and sure, never were accomplishments, knowledge, or principles, social and religious, infused intill a bet

ter nature.

Sid. In truth, sir, I think so too.

Sir P. She is besides a gentlewoman, and of as guid a family as any in this country.

Sid. So I understand, sir.

Sir P. Sir, her father had a vast estate; the which he dissipated and melted in feastings, and friendships, and charities, and hospitalities, and sic kind of nonsense -but to the business. Maister Sidney, I love youyes, I love you-and I have been looking out and contriving how to settle you in the world. Sir, I want to see you comfortably and honourably fixed at the head of a respectable family; and guin you were mine ain son a thousand times, I cou'd nae make a more valuable present till you for that purpose, as a partner for life, than this same Constantia, with sic a fortune down with her as you yourself shall deem to be competent, and an assurance of every canonical contingency in my power to confer or promote.

Sid. Sir, your offer is noble and friendly; but though the highest station would derive lustre from Constantia's charms and worth, yet-were she more amiable than love could paint her in the lover's fancyand wealthy beyond the thirst of the miser's appetiteI could not, would not wed her.

[Rises.

Sir P. Not wed her!-odswunds, man!-you surprise me! Why so what hinders?

Sid. I beg you will not ask a reason for my refusal, but, briefly and finally, it cannot be; nor is it a subject I can long converse upon.

Sir P. Weel, weel, weel, sir, I have done, I have done. [SIDNEY sits down.] Sit you down, man; sit you down again; sit you down; I shall mention it no more;-not but I must confess honestly till you, friend Sidney, that the match, had you consented to my proposal, besides profiting you, would have been of singular service till me likewise. However, you may still serve me as effectually as if you had married her.

Sid. Then, sir, I am sure I will, most heartily.

Sir P. I believe it, friend Sidney, and I thank you: I have nae friend to depend upon but yourself. My heart is almost broke-I cannot help these tears-And, to tell you the fact at once, your friend Charles is struck with a most dangerous malady-a kind of insanityYou see I cannot help weeping when I think of it-in short-this Constantia, I am afraid, has cast an evil eye upon him. Do you understand me ?

Sid. Not very well, sir.

Sir P. Why, he is grievously smitten with the love of her; and, I am afraid, will never be cured without a little of your assistance.

Sid. Of my assistance! pray, sir, in what manner? Sir P. In what manner?-lord, Maister Sidney, how can you be so dull? Now, then, my vara guid friend, guin you would but give him that hint, and take an opportunity to speak a good word for him intill the wench; and guin you wou'd likewise cast about a little, now, and contrive to bring them together once; why, in a few days after, he would nae care a pinch of snuff for her. [SIDNEY starts up.] What is the matter with you, man? What the devil gars you start, and look so astounded?

Sid. Sir, you amaze me! In what part of my mind or conduct have you found that baseness, which entitles you to treat me with this indignity?

Sir P. Indignity! What indignity do you mean, sir? Is asking you to serve a friend with a wench an indignity? Sir, am I not your patron and benefactor, eh?

Sid. You are, sir, and I feel your bounty at my heart; but the virtuous gratitude that sowed the deep sense of it there, does not inform me that, in return, the tutor's sacred function, or the social virtue of the man, must be debased into the pupil's 's pander, or the patron's prostitute,

Sir P. [Rising.] How!

what, sir? do you dispute ?

E

Are you nae my dependant, eh? and do you hesitate about an ordinary civility, which is practised every day by men and women of the first fashion? Sir, let me tell you, however nice you may be, there is nae a client about the court that wou'd nae jump at sic an opportunity to oblige his patron.

Sid. Indeed, sir, I believe the doctrine of pimping for patrons, as well as that of prostituting eloquence and public trust for private lucre, may be learned in your party schools: for where faction and public venality are taught as measures necessary to good government and general prosperity, there every vice is to be expected.

Sir P. Oho! oho! vara weel, vara weel; fine slander upon ministers! fine sedition against government! O, ye villain!-You-you-you are a black sheep, and I'll mark you. I am glad you show yourself. Yes, yes; you have taken off the mask at last: you have been in my service for many years, and I never knew your principles before.

Sid. Sir, you never affronted them before; if you had, you should have known them sooner.

Sir P. It is vara weel; I have done with you. Ay, ay; now I can account for my son's conduct-his aversions till courts, till ministers, levees, public business, and his disobedience till my commands. Ah! you are a Judas-a perfidious fellow: you have ruined the morals of my son, you villain! But I have done with you. However, this I will prophecy at our parting, for your comfort, that guin you are so very squeamish about bringing a lad and a lass together, or about doing sic an a harmless innocent job for your patron, you will never rise in the church.

Sid. Though my conduct, sir, should not make me rise in her power, I am sure it will in her favour, in the favour of my own conscience, too, and in the esteem of all worthy men; and that, sir, is a power and dignity beyond what patrons, or any minister, can bestow. [Exit, L.

Sir P. What a rigorous, saucy, stiff-necked rascal it is! I see my folly now; I am undone by mine ain policy. This Sidney is the last man that should have been about my son. The fellow, indeed, hath given him principles that might have done vara weel among the ancient Romans, but are damn'd unfit for the modern

Britons. Weel, guin I had a thousand sons, I never wou'd suffer one of these English university-bred fellows to be about a son of mine again; for they have sic an a pride of literature and character, and sic saucy English notions of liberty continually fermenting in their thoughts, that a man is never sure of them. But what am I to do? Zoons! he must nae marry this beggar; I cannot set down tamely under that. Stay-haud a wee. By the blood, I have it! Yes, I have hit upon it.

Enter BETTY HINT, R.

Betty. (R.C.) O, sir! I have got the whole secret

out.

Sir P. About what?

Betty. About Miss Constantia. I have just got all the particulars from farmer Hilford's youngest daughter, Sukey Hilford.

Sir P. Weel, weel, but what is the story?-quick, quick-what is it?

Betty. Why, sir, it is certain that Miss Constantia has a sweetheart, or a husband; a sort of a gentleman, or a gentleman's gentleman, they don't know which, that lodges at Gaffer Hodge's; for Sukey says she saw them together last night, in the dark walk, and Mrs. Constantia was all in tears.

Sir P. Zoons, I am afraid this is too guid news to be true.

Betty. O! sir, 'tis certainly true. Besides, sir, she has just writ a letter to her gallant, and I have sent John Gardener to her, who is to carry it to him to Hadley. Now, sir, if your worship would seize itsee, see, sir-here John comes, with the letter in his hand.

me.

Sir P. Step you out, Betty, and leave the fellow till Betty. I will, sir.

[Exit, L.

Enter JOHN, R. with a packet and a letter. John. [R.C. putting the packet into his pocket.] There, go you into my pocket. There's nobody in the library, so I'll e'en go through the short way. Let me see-what is the name? - Mel-Meltil-O, no! Melville, at Gaffer Hodge's.

Sir P. (c.) What letter is that, sir?

John. Letter, sir!

Sir P. Give it me, sir.

John. An't please you, sir, it is not mine.

Sir P. Deliver it this instant, sirrah, or I'll break

your head.

John. There, there, your honour.

Sir P. Begone, rascal. This, I suppose, will let us intill the whole business.

John. [Aside.] You have got the letter, old Surly, but the packet is safe in my pocket. I'll go and deliver that, however, for I will be true to poor Mrs. Constantia in spite of you.

[Exit, L. Sir P. [Reading the letter. Um-um-" and bless my eyes with the sight of you." Um-um-" throw myself into your dear arms." - Zoons, this letter is invaluable. Aha, madam!-yes, this will do this will do, I think. Let me see how it is directed" To Mr. Melville." Vary weel.

Enter BETTY, L.

O, Betty, you are an excellent wench-this letter is worth a million.

Betty. Is it as I suspected-to her gallant?

Sir P. It is, it is. Bid Constantia pack out of the house this instant, and let them get a chaise ready to carry her wherever she pleases. But first send my wife and son hither.

Betty. I shall, sir.

Sir P. Do so; begone. [Exit BETTY, R.] Aha, Maister Charles, I believe I shall cure you of your passion for a beggar now. I think he cannot be so infatuated as to be a dupe. Let me see, how am I to act now? Why, like a true politician, I must pretend most sincerity where I intend most deceit.

Enter EGERTON and LADY MACSYCOPHANT, R. Weel, (L. C.) Charles, notwithstanding the misery you have brought upon me, I have sent for you and your mother, in order to convince you both of my affection and my readiness to forgive, nay, and even to indulge, your perverse passion. Sir, since I find this Constantia has got hold of your heart, and that your mother and you think that you can never be happy without her, why, I'll nae longer oppose your inclinations.