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terable! The tea we drank, urg'd by despair and love Oh!

Buck, Well. Luc. I poifon'd Buck. The devil! Luc. And as my generous heart wou'd have shar'd all with you, I gave you half.

Buck. Oh, curse your generosity!

Luc. Indulge me in the cold comfort of a last em. brace.

Buck. Embrace! O confound you! But it may'nt be too late. Macruthen, Jonquil, physicians, apothecaries, oil, and antidotes. Oh! Je meurs, je meurs! Ah, la diablese!

[Exit Buck. Enter Lord John and Crab. Grab. A brave wench. I cou'd kiss thee for this cons trivance.

L John. He really deserves it all.

Crab. Deserves it! Hang him.' But the sensible resentment of this girl has almost reconciled me to the world again. But stay, let us see- Can't we make a farther use of the puppy's punishment? I suppose we may very safely depend on your contempt of him?

Luc. Moft fecurely,

Crab. And this young thing here has been breathing passions and protestations. But I'll take care my girl shan't

go a beggar to any man's bed. We must have this twenty thousand pound, Lucy.

L John. I regard it not. Let me be happy, and let him be

Crab. Psha, don't scorch me with thy flames. Re. ferve

your raptures; or, if they must have vent, retire into that room whilst I go plague the puppy.

[Exit Crab one way, Lucy and L John another. SCENE changes, and discovers Buck, Macruthen, Jonquil,

Bearnois, La Loire, Surgeon. Buck in a cap ani night-gown.

Surg. This copious phlebotomy will abate the infiam. mation; and if the fix blisters on your head and back rise, why there may be hopes.

Buck. Cold comfort. I burn, I burn, I burn-Ah, there's a shoot. And now again, I freeze. Vol. III.

M

Mac.

Mac. Ay, They are aw symptoms of a strong poifon.

Buck. Oh, I am on the rack.

Mac. Oh, if it be got to the vitals, a fig for aw an. tidetes.

Enter Crab. Crab. Where is this miserable devil? What, is he alive ftill?

Mac. In gude troth, and that's aw.
Buck. Oh!
Crab. So, you have made a pretty piece of work on't,

young man!

Buck. O what cou'd provoke me to return from Paris!

Crab. Had you never been there, this cou'd not have happened.

Enter Racket and Tallyhoe. Rack. Where is he?-He's a dead man, his eyes are • .fix'd already

6 Buck. Oh!
Tally. Who poison's him, Racket?

Rack. Gad I don't know.His French cook, I « reckon.'

Crab. Were there a poflibility of thy reformation, I have yet a secret to restore thee.

Buck. Oh give it, give it!
Crab. Not so fast. It must be on good conditions.

Buck. Name 'em. Take my estate, my-save but my life, take all.

Crab. First, then, renounce thy right to that lady, whose just refentment has drawn this punishment upon thee, and in which she is an unhappy partaker.

Buck. I renounce her from my soul.

Crab. To this declaration you are witnesses. Next, your tawdry trappings, your foreign foppery, your washes, paints, pomades, muit blaze before your door.

Buck. What, all?
Crab. All; not a rag shall be reserv'd. The execution

of
your

sentence shall be assiga'd to your old friends here.

Buck. Well, take 'em. Tally. Huzzah! Come, Racket, let's rummagé.'

Grab.

of this part

Crab. And, lastly, I'll have these exotic atttendants, these instruments of your luxury, these pandars to your pride, pack'd in the first cart, and fent post to the place from whence they came.

Buck. Spare me but La Jonquil.

Crab. Not an instant. The importation of these pup-
pies makes a part of the politics of your old friends the
French ; unable to refilt you whilft you retain your an-
cient roughness, they have recourse to these minions, who
would first by unmanly means sap and soften all your na-
tive spirit, and then deliver you an easy prey to their em-
ployers.
Buck. Since then it must be fo, adieu La Jonquil.

[Exeunt Servants.
Crab. And now to the remedy. Come forth, Lu.
cinda..

Enter Lucinda and Lord John.
Buck. Hey, why did she not swallow the poison?
Crab. No; nor you neither, you blockhead.
Buck. Why, did not I leave you in pango?
Luc. Ay, put on.

The tea was innocent, upon my
honour, Sir Charles. But you allow me to be an excel.
lent actrice.

« Enter Racket and Tallyhoe.' Buck. Oh, curse

your

talents!
Crab. This fellow's ' public' renunciation has put
your person and fortune in your own power: and if you
were fincere in your declaration of being directed by me,
bestow it there.

Luc. As a proof of my sincerity, my Lord, receive
it.

L John. With more transport than Sir Charles the news of his safety.

Luc. to Buck. You are not at present in a condition
to take poffeffion of your post.

Buck. What?
Luc. Oh, you recollect; my Lord's private friend; his
affiftant, you know.

Buck. Oh, oh!

Mac. But, Sir Charles, as I find the affair of the poicon was but a joke, had na’ye better withdraw and tack off your blifters ?

Crab

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Crab. No, let 'em stick. He wants 'em. And now concludes my care.

But before we close the scene, re: ceive, young man, this last advice from the old friend of your father : As it is your happiness to be born a Bri. ton, let it be your boast; know that the blessings of li. berty are your birth-right, which while you preserve, other nations may envy or fear, but can never conquer or contemn you. Believe, that French fashions are as ill suited to the genius, as their politics are pernicious to the peace of your native land.

A convert to these sacred truths, you'll find
That poison for your punishment design'd
Will prove a wholesome medicine to your mind.

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Spoken by Mrs BELLAMY.
AMONG the arts to make a piece go down,

And fix the fickle favour of the town,
An Epilogue is deem'd the furest way
To atone for all the errors of the phıy.
Thus, when pathetic firains have made you crys
In trips the comic mufe, and wipes your eye.
With equal reafon, when føe has made you laugh,
Meipomone should send you sniveling off;
But here our bard, unequal to the task,
Rejects the dagger, and retains the masque:
Fain would be send you cheerful home to-night,
And harmless mirth by honeft means excite;
Scorning, with luscious phrase or double sense,
To raise a laughter at the fair's expence.
What method shall we choose your taste to hit;
Il’ill no one lend our bad a little wit?
T'lank

ye,

kind souls, I'll take it from the pit. Te piece concluded, and the curtain dozun, Up starts that fatal phalanx call’d The Town; In full ofembly weighs our author's fate; And Surly ihus commences the debate : Pray, among friends, does not this poisoning fiene The faci ed rights of tragedy prophane? If farce may mimic thus ber awful bowl; Ob fieg all wrong, ftark naught, upon my soul!"

}

Then Buck cries, Billy, can it be in nature?
Not the least likeness in a single feature."
My Lord, Lord love him, « 'Tis a precious piece;
Let's come on Friday night and have a hiss:
Zo this a perruquier aljents with joy,
Parcequ'il affronte les François, oui, ma foi.
In fuch difress what can the poet do?
Where seek for shelter when these foes pursues?
He dares demand protection, Sirs, from you.

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