Eger. I know you do not; and I am sure you never will advise the match.

Sid. I never will-I never will.

Eger. You make me happy; which, I assure you, I never could be with your judgment against me in this point.

Sid. But pray, Charles, suppose I had been so indiscreet as to have agreed to marry you to Constantia, would she have consented, think you?

so.

Eger. That I cannot say positively; but I suppose

Sid. Did you never speak to her upon that subject, then?

Eger. In general terms only; never directly requested her consent in form. [Crosses with an air of happy resolution to R.] But I will this very moment; for I have no asylum from my father's arbitrary design, but my Constantia's arms. Pray do not stir from hence; I will return instantly. I know she will submit to your advice; and I am sure you will persuade her to my wish, as my life, my peace, my earthly happiness, depend on my Constantia. [Exit, R.

Sid. (c.) Poor Charles! he little dreams that I love Constantia too; but to what degree I knew not myself, till he importuned me to join their hands. Yes-I love -but must not be a rival, for he is dear to me as fraternal affinity.

Enter BETTY, R.

Betty. [Advancing with several formal curteseys.] I beg pardon for my intrusion, sir. I hope, sir, I don't disturb your reverence?

Sid. Not in the least, Mrs. Betty.

Betty. (R. C.) I humbly beg you will excuse me, sir; but I wanted to break my mind to your honour-about a scruple that lies upon my conscience; and indeed I should not have presumed to trouble you, sir, but that I know you are my young master's friend, and my old master's friend, and, indeed, a friend to the whole family; [Curteseys with a wearisome formality] for, to give you your due, sir, you are as good a preacher as ever went into a pulpit.

Sid. (L. C.) Ha, ha, ha! do you think so, Mrs. Betty? Betty. (c.) Ay, in truth do I; and as good a gentleman, too, as ever came into a family, and one that never

gives a servant a bad word, nor that does any one an ill turn, neither behind their back nor before their face.

Sid. Ha, ha, ha! why, you are a mighty well-spoken woman, Mrs. Betty, and I am mightily beholden to you for your good character of me.

Betty. Indeed, sir, it is no more than you deserve, and what all the world and all the servants say of you.

Sid. I am much obliged to them, Mrs. Betty; but, pray, what are your commands with me?

Betty. Why, I'll tell you, sir-to be sure, I am but a servant, as a body may say-and every tub should stand upon its own bottom; but-[She lays her hand familiarly on his R. shoulder, speaking in a deep whisper] -my young master is now in the china-room, in close conference with Miss Constantia. I know what they are about, but that is no business of mine; and, therefore, I made bold to listen a little-because, you know, sir, one would be sure, before one took away any body's reputation.

Sid. Very true, Mrs. Betty-very true, indeed.

Betty. Oh! heavens forbid that I should take away any young woman's good name, unless I had a good reason for it; but, sir, [In a tone of vulgar positiveness] if I am in this place alive, as I listened, with my ear close to the door, I heard my young master ask Miss Constantia the plain marriage question; upon which I started and trembled, nay, my very conscience stirred within me so, that I could not help peeping through the key-hole.

Sid. Ha, ha, ha! and so your conscience made you peep through the key-hole, Mrs. Betty?

Betty. It did, indeed, sir; and there I saw my young' master upon his knees-Lord bless us-and what do you think he was doing?-kissing her hand as if he would eat it, and protesting, and assuring her, he knew that you, sir, would consent to the match, and then the tears ran down her cheeks as fast

Sid. Ay!

Betty. They did indeed. I would not tell your reverence a lie for the world.

Sid. I believe it, Mrs. Betty; and what did Constantia say to all this?

Betty. Oh!-Oh! she is sly enough; she looks as if butter would not melt in her mouth; but all is not gold that glisters-smooth water, you know, sir, runs deep

est: I am sorry my young master makes such a fool of himself; but, um-take my word for it, he is not the man; for, though she looks as modest as a maid at a christening-yet-ah!-when sweethearts meet, in the dusk of the evening, and stay together a whole hour, in the dark grove, and embrace, and kiss, and weep at parting-why, then, you know, sir, it is easy to guess all the rest.

Sid. Why, did Constantia meet any body in this manner?

I

Betty. [With affected modesty.] O! heavens! I beg, sir, you will not misapprehend me; for, I assure you, do not believe they did any harm-that is, not in the grove; at least, not when I was there; and she may be honestly married, for aught I know. O! lud, sir, I would not say an ill thing of Miss Constantia for the world. I only say they did meet in the dark walk; and all the servants observe that Miss Constantia wears her stays very loose, looks very pale, is sick in the morning and after dinner; and, as sure as my name is Betty Hint, something has happened that I won't name; but, nine months hence, a certain person in this family may ask me to stand godmother: for I think I know what's what, when I see it, as well as another.

Sid. No doubt you do, Mrs. Betty.

Betty. I do, indeed, sir: [Going, R.] and so, your servant, sir. [Returning.] But I hope your worship won't mention my name in this business; or that you had an item from me.

Sid. I shall not, Mrs. Betty.

Betty. For, indeed, sir, I am no busybody, nor do I love fending nor proving; and I assure you, sir, I hate all tittling and tattling, and gossiping, and backbiting, and taking away a person's good name.

Sid. I observe you do, Mrs. Betty.

Betty. I do, indeed, sir. I am the farthest from it in the world.

Sid. I dare say you are.

Betty. I am, indeed, sir; and so your humble servant. Sid. Your servant, Mrs. Betty.

Betty. [Aside, in an exulting air.] So! lieves every word I say that's charming. business for her, I'm resolved.

I see he be

I'll do her [Erit, R.

Sid. What can this ridiculous creature mean by her dark walk, her private spark, her kissing, and all her

slanderous insinuations against Constantia, whose conduct is as unblamable as innocence itself? I see envy is as malignant in a paltry waiting wench, as in the vainest or most ambitious lady of the court. It is always an infallible mark of the basest nature; and merit in the lowest, as well as in the highest station, must feel the shaft of envy's constant agents-falsehood and slander. [Exit, L.

END OF ACT I.

ACT II.

SCENE I.-A Library.

Enter CONSTANTIA and EGERTON, R.

Con. (c.) Mr. Sidney is not here, sir.

Eger. (c.) I assure you I left him, and begged he would stay till I returned.

Con. His prudence, you see, sir, has made him retire; therefore we had better defer the subject till he is present; in the mean time, sir, I hope you will permit me to mention an affair that has greatly alarmed and perplexed me: I suppose you guess what it is?

Eger. I do not, upon my word. Con. That is a little strange. You know, sir, that you and Mr. Sidney did me the honour of breakfasting with me this morning in my little study.

Eger. We had that Lappiness, madam.

Con. Just after you left me, upon opening my book of accounts, which lay in the draw of the reading-desk, to my great surprise, I there found this case of jewels, containing a most elegant pair of ear-rings, a necklace of great value, and two bank-bills in this pocket-book, the mystery of which, sir, I presume, you can explain?

Eger. I can.

Con. They were of your conveying, then?
Eger. They were, madam.

Con. I assure you they startled and alarmed me.

Eger. I hope it was a kind of alarm, such as blushing virtue feels, when, with her hand, she gives her heart and last consent.

Con. It was not, indeed, sir.

Eger. Do not say so, Constantia : come, be kind at once; my peace and worldly bliss depend upon this mo

ment.

Con. What would you have me do?

Eger. What love and virtue dictate.

Con. O! sir, experience but too severely proves, that such unequal matches as ours, never produce aught but contempt and anger in parents, censure from the world, and a long train of sorrow and repentance in the wretched parties; which is but too often entailed upon their hapless issue.

Eger. But that, Constantia, cannot be our case: my fortune is independent and ample; equal to luxury and splendid folly. I have a right to choose the partner of my heart.

Con. But I have not, sir; I am a dependant on my lady-a poor, forsaken, helpless orphan; your benevolent mother found me, took me to her bosom, and there supplied my parental loss, with every tender care, indulgent dalliance-and with all the sweet persuasion that maternal fondness, religious precept, polished manners, and hourly example could administer-she fostered me: [Weeps] and shall I now turn viper, and with black ingratitude sting the tender heart that thus hath cherished me? shall I seduce her house's heir, and kill her peace? No; though I loved to the mad extreme of female fondness; though every worldly bliss that woman's vanity or man's ambition could desire, followed the indulgence of my love, and all the contempt and misery of this life, the denial of that indulgence, I would discharge my duty to my benefactressmy earthly guardian, my more than parent.

Eger. My dear Constantia, your prudence, your gratitude, and the cruel virtue of your self-denial, do but increase my love, my admiration, and my misery.

Con. Sir, I must beg you will give me leave to return these bills and jewels.