a little of what we call la maladie du pays; you have money enough, if you had but spirit he is too oeconomique; it is not for the credit to make use of it? of mi lord Anglois to be too oeconomique.

Colin. True; but I fain would keep a little Lord A. I think, La Jeunesse, I have been together, d'ye see, lest you should not. [Exit. at some pains to put that out of dispute; but Dr. D. Plessing upon us, how the man prates get you gone all together, and send the fellow and prattles! 'Twas but this morning he was to me; I begin to be as tir'd of him as you differing and disputing truly about pedigrees are.-[Exeunt Servants]-His honesty is my and antiquities, though I can count forty and reproach; these rascals flatter while they rob four generations from the grandmother of St. me: it angers me that one, who has no stake, Winifred, as regularly as a monk can tell no interest in my fortune, should husband it his beads.

more frugally than I who am the owner and Lord A. Leave your generations to the worms, the sufferer: in short, he is the glass in which doctor, and tell me if you carried my message I see myself, and the reflection tortures me; to Bridgemore-But why do I ask that? When my vices have deform'd me; gaming has made I myself am come from putting the finishing a monster of me.

Enter COLIN.

Come hither, Colin; what is this I hear of you? Colin. Saving your presence I should guess a pratty many lies; 'twill mostly be the case when companions in office give characters one of another.

hand to that treaty: and really if young women will keep companions who are handsomer than themselves, themselves, they mustn't wonder if their lovers go astray.

Dr. D. Ah, my lord Apperville, my lord Apperville, you've something there to answer for. Lord A. Preach not, good sixty-five, thy cold continence to twenty-three; the stars are

Lord A. But what is he whom nobody in my debt one lucky throw at least; let them speaks well of? You are given up on all hands. bestow miss Aubrey, and I'll cancel all that's Colin. And so must truth itsall, when the past. [A Servant delivers a Letter] What de'il turns historian. have we here?-From Tyrrel I suppose-No, Lord A. You've been applauded for your 'tis from a more peaceable quarter; my combluntness; 'tis no recommendation to me, modious Mrs. Macintosh. [Reads]-Chance Macleod; nor shall I part from all my family has thrown in my way a girl, that quite to accommodate your spleen; from the stable-eclipses your miss Somers: come to me boy to my own valet, there's not a domestic without loss of time, lest the bird should in this house gives you a good word.

be on the wing. What shall I do? I have

Colin. Nor ever will, till I prefer their in- but little stomach to the business. Aubrey is terest to yours; hungry curs will bark: but my goddess, and 'tis downright heresy to an your lordship would have us regale our follow any other.

friends below stairs, while you are feasting

yours above, gadzooks, I have a pratty many

countrymen in town, with better appetites than

Enter another Servant.

Serv. My lord, a person without says he

purses, who will applaud the regulation. comes with a recommendation from sir Harry

Lord A. Tis for such purses and such ap-Gamble.

petites you would be a fit provider; 'tis for

Lord A. What sort of a person?

the latitude of the Highlands, not for the Sero. A little ugly fellow: I believe he's meridian of London, your narrow scale of a Jew.

economy is laid down.

Lord A. That's right, I had forgot: my Jew

Colin. Economy is no disgrace; 'tis batter is fairly jaded; sir Harry's probably is better living on a little, than outliving a great deal. trained; so let me see him: is in the

Lord A. Well, sir, you may be honest, but antichamber?

you are troublesome; my family are one and Serv. There are several persons waiting to all in arms against you; and you must know, speak with your lordship; they have called a Colin Macleod, I've great objection to a re-great many times.

bellion either in a family or state, whatever Lord A. Ay, ay, they come for money; he you and your countrymen may think of the alone comes with it; therefore conduct that

matter.

little ugly fellow, as you call him, to my closet,

Colin. My lord, my lord; whan you have and bid those other people call again. [Exit shad 1) the blude of the offenders, it is na' Servant] Doctor, if any of my particulars generous to revive the offence: as for mine are importunate to see me, don't let 'em interawn particular, heaven be my judge, the realm rupt me here; tell 'em I'm gone to Mrs. Macof England does na' haud a heart more loyal intosh's; they'll know the place, and my buthan the one I strike my honde upon.

Enter DOCTOR DRUID.

siness in it.

[Exit. Dr. D. They may guess that without the gift of divination truly: ah! this passion is

Lord A. So, doctor, what's the news with the prejudice of education! He may thank you?-Well, Colin, let me hear no more of France and Italy for this: I would have carried these complaints; don't be so considerate of him through Ingria, Esthonia, and Livonia; me-and hark'e, if you was not quite so par- through Moldavia, Bessarabia, Bulgaria, Thrace; simonious to yourself, your appearance would from the Gulf of Finland to the Straits of the be all the better. Dardanelles. 'Tis a chance if he had seen a Colin. Troth, I'd be better habited, but I human creature in the whole course of his canna' afford it. travels.

Lord A. Afford it, sirrah? Don't I know

Enter TYRREL.

Tyr. Doctor, forgive me this intrusion; where is lord Abberville? His servants deny Tyr. Ay, did she say so much? That's him to me, and I've business with him of a guilty beyond doubt.

pressing sort.

Dr. D. Business indeed!

Colin. You're right; it carries a damn'd guilty look: I would na' take his fortune to

Tyr. Yes, business, sir: I beg you to inform father his faults.

me where to find him.

Tyr. Why you then give him up. Oh!

Dr. D. I take it, Mr. Tyrrel, you are one 'tis too palpable! But, pray, did she herself of his particulars, therefore I tell you, he is give you this letter for me?

gone to Mrs. Macintosh's; a commodious sort

of a pody, who follows one trade in her shop, and another in her parlour.

Tyr. Yes, yes, I know her well, and know his business there.

Dr. D. Pleasure is all his business: I take for granted he finds some gratification in his visits there.

Colin. With her own hondes; gude faith, the heart within you would ha' malted to have seen the manner of it.

Tyr. That aggravates my torture! - Where was it you left her? In what wretched habitation?

Colin. Hoot! no disparagement upon her habitation; there's nought of wretchedness Tyr. Yes, the gratification of a devil; the about it: odzooks! she's with a lady of as gude pleasure of defacing beauty and despoiling in- a family!-But you mun be as close as wax, d'ye see; ye munna mang 1) the secret to my laird.

nocence, of planting everlasting misery in the human heart for one licentious, transitory joy: 'tis there he holds his riots; thither he is gone to repeat his triumphs over my unhappy Aubrey, and confirm her in her shame.

Dr. D. Ay, I suppose miss Aubrey is the

reigning passion now.

Tyr. Well, well, the placeColin. Nay, 'tis hard by; a cousin's of mine own; a comely, courteous woman as you'd wish to commune with; one Mrs. Macintosh. Tyr. 'Sdeath! that confirms it! There, sir, Tyr. Curs'd be his passions, wither'd be bring me no more letters: whether you're dupe his powers! Oh, sir, she was an angel once: or pander in this business, I desire never to such was the graceful modesty of her deport- be troubled more. [Exit. ment, it seemed as if the chastity, which now Colin. Hoot! what the fiend possesses you? so many of her sex throw from them, centered What time o'the moon is this? The lad's an

all with her.

errant bedlamite. There's mischief in the wind;

Dr. D. I've told too much; this lad's as and this same laird of mine is at the bottom mad as he-Well, Mr. Tyrrel, I can say but of it: gadzooks, there goes maister Mortimer; little in the case; women and politics I never I'll tell him aw the case, and take his counsel deal in; in other words, I abhor cuckoldom, on the whole. [Exit.

and have no passion for the pillory. [Exit.

Enter COLIN.

Tyr. What do I see? Miss Aubrey's hand! Why does she write to me? Distraction, how this racks my heart.

Colin. Ay, and mine too;-Ecod, it gave it sic a pull, I canna' for the sol of me, get it back into its place again: gude truth, you'll find it but a melancholy tale.

Mrs. M. Miss Aubrey! You mistake; I never heard the name.

Tyr. Come, you and I have long been

berville visit a lady here?

Tyr. [Reads] I am the martyr of an accident, which never will find credit; under this stroke, I can't conceal a wish that Mr. friends: answer me truly, does not Lord AbTyrrel would not give me up; but, as his single opposition to the world's reproach might be as dangerous to him, as it must be ineffectual to me, I earnestly advise him to forget the unfortunate AUGUSTA. What am I to conclude? The paper looks like innocence; the words as soft as modesty could utter. The martyr of an accident! She coin what new name he pleases to elude my calls it accident; why that's no crime. Alas! search, still I must see her.

Mrs. M. Well, if he does, what then?

Tyr. Why then that lady has undone me; she has broke niy heart.

Mrs. M. Yes; but her name's not Aubrey; my lord calls her Somers.

Tyr. Let my lord call her what he will,

it might be accident which threw temptation Mrs. M. Why you're mad sure to think of in her way, but voluntary guilt which yielded such a thing; I thought you knew me better: to the tempter; of him she makes no mention. violate a trust? No, no, young man, that's Pray, sir inform me; you have seen this lady- - not my principle; you see no lady here. Why, sure, I've not maintained an honourable character in the world till now, to make away with it at last.

Colin

I have.

Tyr. Discours'd with her-
Colin. I have.

Tyr. In that discourse, do you recollect if she named lord Abberville?

Tyr. If you suspect me, stay and be present at our conference.

Mrs. M. Yes, and so have my lord come in and catch us, and a tilting-bout ensure betwixt I command; your champion gives you up; you; no, Mr. Tyrrel, mine's a sober well-resistance is in vain; if you refuse my favours, conducted family:-Hush, as I live, here comes madam, you shall feel my force.

my lord: dear Tyrrel, be advised, come along Aug. What is't you mean, my lord?with me, and betake yourself out of his way.

Tyr. No; I'll not seek a quarrel with lord Abberville, but I cannot fly from him: go, go, and leave us to each other.

[Exit Mrs. Macintosh.

Enter LORD ABBERVILLE.

Stand off!

Enter MORTIMER.

Mort. Ay, what is it you mean, my lord? Lord A. Mortimer! 'sdeath, what evil genius conducted you hither?

Mort. [Goes to the Door] Nay, my good friend, come in.

Lord A. Tyrrel! - What brings you here? This is no place of meeting; if you've any explanation to require upon miss Aubrey's Enter COLIN. account, come to my house: I answer nothing This honest man was my conductor: while here. you, lord Abberville, in a distinguish'd rank

Tyr. My lord, when I'm assured miss Aubrey are openly assaulting innocence, he, in his is in this house, and see you her visitor, I humble post, is secretly supporting it. If you can interpret for myself.

Lord A. Miss Aubrey in this house! You rave. Tyr. Come, 'tis in vain; your Scotchman told me so; your Mrs. Macintosh herself confessed it.

come under that description, madam, I am your defender; if not, I have no further business here.

Aug. Why should I urge my innocence? I am unfortunate, I'm poor; your nephew, sir, will tell you that is cause sufficient for aban

Lord A. Humph! after all, 'twould be a lucky hit, should this be true: it may be so. doning me.

[Aside. Lord A. This grows too serious; I scorn to Tyr. If you require more witnesses to what steal that from you half my fortune could not I say, here comes an indisputable one, miss purchase. I believe you are as innocent as Aubrey herself.

Enter MISS AUBREY.

heaven first form'd you; and to convince the world in what esteem I hold your virtues, here, before Mortimer, I offer you my hand, Aug. Oh, Mr. Tyrrel, this is generous in- and lay my title, rank, and fortune at your feet. deed! lord Abberville here too;-'tis what I Aug. No, there may a legal prostitute dreaded. You have mischief in your minds; as well as a licentious one; had you a world but, I beseech you, leave me to my mis- to give, after your base experiment, you canfortunes, nor cast away a thought upon a not offer any thing that I shall take. You wretch like me.

Tyr. Give me your answer first to these demands. Have you been wrong'd? Have you an accusation to prefer against this lord, or do you acquit him, and submit with patience to your situation?

be

may find others less exceptious; but in a noble family, though stripped of fortune, there will still be pride.

Lord A. I see my fate; I see a prépossession in your heart too strong for me to shake: I plainly perceive that Mr. Tyrrel can offend

Aug. I accuse no one; I submit with patience; with more impunity than I can; however, I am content to be the only sufferer in this Mortimer, you are a man of honour: I resign business, and earnestly entreat you to desist miss Aubrey into your hands for the present, from any altercation with lord Abberville on and shall expect you will avail yourself of no my account. unfair advantages over me. - Macleod, I find Tyr. I'm satisfied; and shall religiously obey miss Aubrey is to thank you for this seasonyou: lord Abberville, I ask your pardon for able visit of Mr. Mortimer's. [Exit. this interruption; I never shall repeat it more. Mort. Come, madam, you are now my ward; Bridgemore must struggle hard to get you

Aug. Bui are you going?

Tyr. For ever. Dangerous to behold you back again. are; therefore, before my fond, my foolish Aug. Sir!-Mr. Mortimer! You'll pardon heart relapses into love, I'll seize the resolution me, but must I think you serious? If what of the moment, and bid farewell to you for you now propose is meant in kindness to me, [Exit. I must say the world has not done justice to your character: I have been taught to look upon you as no friend to our sex in particular.

ever.

Aug. Astonishing! Lord A. There, madam, you perceive the love, the honour of that gentleman.

Aug. Could I have thought this of him?

Now I'm truly wretched.

Lord A. N No, madam, if my purse, my person, my assiduous ardent love can fill the vacancy his falsehood makes, you've had no loss: dry up your tears, you've yet a friend; smile only on my wishes.

Mort. Nor am I; your sex have broke treaty with us, pass'd the bounds betwixt us, forc'd into our very taverns, and from being once the glory of my country are become its shame. Aug. But all have not done thisMort. Nor am I then at enmity with all : a virtuous individual is of no sex, no country. Colin. No country? Hoot! A true North Briton will give up his virtue afore his country

Aug. No, my lord, no; you've made me wretched, guilty you shall never make me. at any time.

Lord A. Inexorable girl, will nothing move? Then I've no longer any terms to keep: call to mind where you are; in a house where I am master; surrounded by creatures whom

Aug. Yes, and I think it was a partiality to your country, rather than to virtue, which determin'd you to put me into this house.

Colin. De'il take me now and all my kindred

with me, if I knew ought about the house, Aub. You are there already; this is Fishmore than the name of Macintosh upon the street-hill.

door.

Colin. Gadzooks! and that's the reason I

Mort. Time will clear all things up: a ge- could find it na' where alse. Ken you one neral misconception is gone forth; my nephew, Bradgemore's, may I ask?

I perceive, has fallen under it. As for poor Aub. He had us'd to live in yonder house Colin, his design in bringing you hither was with the great gates; but it is many years more than innocent, depend upon it, it was since I have been in England.

noble; I have heard his story, and at my request he brings me here: commit yourself therefore to my protection, and rely upon my justice.

Aug. How shall I answer you? Your generosity o'erwhelms me.

Mort. I generous! No, I am a mere voluptuary; I study luxury by principle, and am as sensual on the side of virtue, as Abberville, or any other fashionable rake, on that of vice. Colin, you'll settle matters with your countrywoman, and come to us at my house.

[Exeunt.

Colin. I'faith, you need na' tell me that; I apprehend as much from your civility. Aub. Give me leave now in my turn to ask you a few questions.

Colin. With aw my heart; you have gude right; you may interrogate me freelv. Aub. You are acquainted with this Bridge

more

Colin. I am.

Aub. And with his family
Colin. I am.

Aub. And what does it consist of?
Colin. Troth, of a spouse and daughter.
Aub. Are they all?

Colin. Ay, and enough in aw gude reason; the de'il, sir, in his vengeance need na' add

Colin. My countrywoman! The fiend a bit! I never will believe she has a drop of Scottish blude in aw her composition; as I shall answer I never blush'd before for any of the na- a third. me: there must be something spurious in her Aub. But to be serious; tell me, I beseech genealogy: I'll have a little serious talk with you, do you know of no one else in Mr. Bridher on that; I've got the pedigree of the Mac-gemore's family,

intoshes at my fingers ends, and if there's Colin. Of none.

e'er a flaw in her descent 'twixt this and Noah, Aub. What do I hear? Pray recollect yourgadzooks, I'll wager a hundred pounds I prove self: you don't seem to know his house; perher an impostor.

ACT IV.

SCENE I.-FISHSTREET-HILL.
Enter AUBREY.

[Exit. haps you are not well acquainted with his

family.

Colin. Aw that he owns I know; what basebegotten brats he may have sculking up and down in holes and corners, troth, I can't pretend to say. These city cattle sometimes will

Aub. If Bridgemore hasn't shifted his abode, break pasture. that is the house; 'twas there that eighteen Aub. You misconceive me, honest friend: years ago I lost a wife, and left an infant has no young lady of the name of Aubrey daughter. All-disposing Providence, who hast come within your knowledge?

ordain'd me to this hour, and through innu- Colin. Ay, ay, poor lassie, she once liv'd merable toils and dangers led me back to this with Bradgemore; the worse luck her's, but affecting spot, can it be wondered at, if I ap- that is over; she has got her liberty; she's now proach it with an anxious, aching heart, un-releas'd.

certain as I am if I have still a child or not? Aub. I understand you-She is dead. What shall I do? If my Augusta's lost, 'twere Colin. Dead! Heaven foresend! An you better I should never enter those ill-omen'd would give me time, I would ha' told you doors; if she survives, how shall I disclose she's released from yon fat fellow's tyranny; myself, and tell her she has still a father? Oh, na' more: out on him, filthy porpoise, aw the that unkown and unperceiv'd, I could but catch bowels in his belly, though he has got gude a sight of her, gaze till I'd gratified my long-store, dunna' contain one grain of pity: troth, ing, and till this throbbing might abate! I'll with his gude will she might ha' starv'd and watch the door till somebody comes out, that perish'd in the streets.

I may 'speak to,

Enter COLIN,

[Steps aside. Aub. What is't you tell me? In the same breath you bring my hopes to life and murder them again. - Starv'd in the streets! I

Colin. The murrain light upon this Fish-thought she had an affluent fortune. street-hill, wherever it may be: I would it had Colin. In virtue, sir, nought else; and that na' got its name for nought, 1) that I might will not pass current for a dinner. Zooks, fairly small) it out, for I am clear bewal- and I mysall, by heaven's gude providence, der'd.3) Johnny Groat's house would as soon had na' stapt in upon the very nick of time, be found as this same Bradgemore's. One my life upon't she had been lost. cries, turn o'this honde, one o'that, and t'other Aub. Come to my arms then, whosoe'er stares and grins forsooth because I hanna' got thou art, and wonder not, for thou hast sav'd the modern gabble on my tongue, but speak my daughter.

the language in its auncient purity. Hoot! Colin. Daughter! Gadzooks, you make my this mon seems of a batter sort, and perad-heart jump to my laps1) for joy. Are you venture would concede an answer. Speed miss Aubrey's father?

you, gentleman, I pray you whuch way leads

Aub. I am her father.

na' been more happy. Wall, wall, I hope Napth. Ay, ay, a charming stroke: war is you'll merit your gude fortune; by my sol a var coot thing; and then the plague; a blessyou've got an angel of a child-But where ed circumstance, tank heaven; a blessed cirhave you been buried aw the while? for we cumstance, coot seven per cent.

believ'd you dead.

Bridge. Let me see; altogether 'tis a thump

And. You shall hear all my story, but this ing sum: it netted forty thousand: where's the is no fit place to tell it in: satisfy me first if my poor child is safe.

Colin. Fear nought, she's safe with maister Mortimer; I laft her but this moment.

Aub. Who is Mr. Mortimer?

Colin. Why, maister Mortimer is one who does a thousand noble acts without the credit of one; his tongue wounds and his heart makes whole; he must be known and not describ'd: an you will bait awhile in yonder tavern till I come from Bradgemore's, I'll accompany you to where your daughter is.

consciense, Napthali, that wouldn't strain point for forty thousand pounds?

a

Napth Oh, 'tis all fair in the vay of trade; you could not strike a jury out of Jonathan's that wouldn't acquit you. Well, Mr. Bridgemore, any thing more in my vay?

Bridge. Nothing at present. Did you call at Lloyd's?

Napth. Odso! well recollected! The Seahorse is arrived from Scanderoon, she that had such high insurances upon her.

Bridge. What d'ye hear? What passengers come in her? Is she at Stangate-creek? Napth. No, in the pool; she brought clean Bridge. Go, go; you have given me an my daughter, I'll suspend my inquiry. Step ague-fit; the name of Scanderoon sets all my with me into yonder tavern, there we'll con- teeth a chattering. [Exit Napth.] Well, would cert the means of bringing Bridgemore to an it had been possible to have kept my secret interview at Mr. Mortimer's. Come, my good from that fellow-The Seahorse come at last! benefactor, how fortunate was this meeting! - Why be it so. - What ails me; what posI long to know to whom I owe this happi- sesses me? If she brings news of Aubrey's [Exeunt. death, I'm a whole man; ay, and a warm one too. How now; who's there? Enter COLIN.

Aub. Agreed! I fear I've been mistaken in this Bridgemore; three years ago I consign'd to him a cargo of great value from Scander- bills of health from Leghorn. oon; if he has robb'd me-but till I've seen

ness.

SCENE II.-A Counting-house belonging to

BRIDGEMORE.

Enter BRIDGEMORE and NAPTHALI. Bridge. And so, friend Napthali, lord berville has had another tumble.

Colin. Cawdie Macleod, a ragged Highlander, so please you, a wratched gaelly1) under Ab-favour of your raverence, na' better.

Napth. A damn'd one. Bridge. I'm glad on't; this will wring his fine, high, pamper'd carcass to the quick.

Napth. Praith, he flings and winces so, I tremble to come near; he look as dark as India-stock upon a settling day.

Bridge. I recollect you now for one of my lord Abberville's retinue-Well, you have some inquiries to make about miss Aubrey.

Colin. Ecod, you are close upon the mark. Bridge. I guest as much; but she is gone from hence, and you may follow.

Colin. Out on thee, ragamuffin; an I were Bridge. Ay, ay, the dice are little weapons, not bound to secrecy, I'd gee the sic a pill but they make deep wounds: what between should lead that weam of thine the de'il a those that win and us that lend, he bleeds at dance. [Aside. both arms. These are the bonds.

Bridge. No, master Colin, your Scotch po

Napth. Take 'em: this is a memorandum licy will stand you in no stead this turn. of the premium on five thousand, and this the private contract for extraordinary interest.

[Gives several Papers.

Bridge. Good, good, friend Napthali! The bonds give legal interest, and this doubles it. There, there, lie by and breed. [Puts them by] But hark'e-me! Hast brought the abstract of the sale of the Neptune's cargo?

Napth. Aubrey's consignment you mean. Bridge. The same, but mum! That's between you and me: close, close, my little Napthali.

Colin. Then I'll forswear my countryWell, you wull na' have my message then, I mun gang bock to maister Mortimer, and tell the Turkish trader you'll na' see him.

Bridge. Hold, hold! what trader do you speak of?

Colin. Of one that's com'd a passenger from
Scanderoon, aboard the what d'ye call the
vessel-the Seahorse, I take it.
Bridge. What, who? It is not Aubrey.
Colin. Gude faith, I would it was-the mon
Bridge. Which man is dead; the passen-

is dead.

Napth. A broker and betray his principal! That's not my vay; there is no senses in that. ger or Aubrey? Here I have make out your account; 'tis var Colin. Hoot! can't you think 'tis Aubrey?bargain I have make, considering dia- By your leave, truth, th, awhile; while; you will na mond is a drug.

coot

Bridge. Why this tells well; it mounts; the raw silk was old gold; the carpeting and cottons not amiss; and whuh! the rhubarb! Napth. Ah, sir, but vat is that? - Look at the coffee!

take it much to heart, an I make use of fal-
sehood to detect itsall.
[Aside.
Bridge. I'll go to Mr. Mortimer's; I'll go
with all my heart. Give me your hand; I ask
your pardon heartily, my honest friend-and
so he's dead, you say you're sure he is dead

Bridge. Politics account for that; while-pray, what distemper did he die of?

Colin. When a mon's in his grave, what