notice of mufic, as an ingenious and delightful ftudy; but it would be too long. I fhall therefore only fubjoin, that of all the ftudies of this kind, thofe are most reasonably Your humble fervant, Extract from the COMEDY, intitled, tial confideration, it will appear, that inftructs you in a beautiful allegory, the great poets here enumerated, how natural it is for a youthful have deferved well of mankind, by mind to prefer a darling miftrefs to their ingenious and ufeful produc- power or knowledge; how jealous, tions and for the reft they have women are of their beauty; and fquandered their time, in purchafing how unforgiving, when any affront. to themselves ridicule and contempt, is offered them upon that account. in mifleading the fancy, and fully-How unreafonable, therefore, would ing the judgment, of their youthful it be, to admire the painter, and and unwary readers, and in difgra-flight the poet? I might here take cing the art they were not able to adorn. There are many ftudies calculated more for the amusement and relaxation of the mind, than for any folid advantage. Among thefe I fhall take notice of painting, as re-engaged, which convey profit mixed quiring a fine genius, and much with delight, and are a happy comlabour and study, to attain any great pound of the utile dulci, reputation in it. Now, the belt and I am, Sir, moft masterly painters have always ftudied (among the many things neceffary for them to know) the most celebrated poets: from them they copy their beautiful defigns; and endeavour to make their pencil speak the language of the poet's pen, They fucceed, and are admired; they are honoured when living; and, when dead, their works make a part of the wealth of princes; their memory is revered, and their fame is immortal. Yet a picture cannot poffibly fpeak; it cannot dive into the foul, roufe the paffions, and inflame the mind; create joy, forrow, resentment for virtue injured, or exaltation for merit crowned with fuccefs; with all the various turns the imagination feels in reading a well written poem. The painter will fhew you Achilles in his height of rage, his fword half-drawn, and Minerva checking his rafhnefs; but he cannot inform you how this paffion rofe, by what incidents it was worked up to fo high a pitch, and how the injured hero expreffed all the keen refentments of his angry mind. You fee a Paris upon Mounted! Ida, contemplating the heavenly beauties, and deciding the fatal caufe: turn to the poet, and he Vol. XXV. Scene I. Allbur's House. Enter Maria and Mrs. Bellevue, with a Book. Maria. INDEED I'm glad to see you. Mrs. Bell. Once I could be happy to bid you welcome here. Maria. Aye! Mrs. Bellevue, this houfe when your's, was the feast of politenefs and hospitality - hasn't fir Henry fince fent to you? · Mrs. Bell. No, my love, he's no more a brother. His late acquifition of a baronet's title, which he never expected, has raised him fo much above me, that I'm now out of fight-every fpark of fraternal affection; even compaffion for my fufferings has been long extinguish Maria. Oh, madam, I'm out of all patience with him-his familypride, fo provokingly unreasonable F to -to take fuch a vaft alarm at your Mrs. Bell. Candour fhou'd in fome measure incline me to excufe my brother, when I reflect that my prefent deftitute fituation is partly the confequence of that very family pride; which in his conduct to me wears the appearance of cruelty-of inhumanity! Maria. Aye, madam, on the fudden death of your worthy husband, what a pity that you cou'dn't fupprefs your own ideas of rank and birth, by being above all concern for the bus'neis, in trufting it into the hands of this defigning fool-this knavih Mr. Allbut! Ms. Bell. A villain !-He abus'd my confidence plac'd him in a truf-and then inftead of clearing; to puzzle and perplex Maria. His purpose was to get all into his own power! Mrs. Bell. He has done it-poffeffed himself of my fortune, here -even of my houfe- and drove me to Maria. The vulgar Mrs. Allbut -indeed the great lady of the village-rattling by your cottage door in her chariot-(Mrs. Bellevue weeps.). But I'm wrong to revive in your mind. Mrs. Bell. My kind Maria-in the bud of years; yet bloom of ditcretion!-had I then fuch an early friend! but thofe whom misfortune has doom'd to participate in friendfhip, only by receiving, may feem intereated for a grateful mention of its facred bleings. I am poor you have been good to me if thank you, you will do juftice to my intention. -- of your mind when my fon fet the juft value upon your person and accomplishments-He could difcern genuine merit; I was dazzled with the blaze of tranfitory riches; and when I fhould have blefs'd him with a real treasure, I wrong'd both him and you!-Forbid your union; and to prevent it for ever, fent my child over feas far-far from me! Perhaps now a wand'ring fugitive. Oh! I have been wicked, cruel, unnatural! I'm punish'd, but not enough! I fhould be refign'd-I am. Maria. Dear Madam, all will be better-No news yet of your William ? Mrs. Bell. No, my dear; and finee the unhappy change of affairs, I fcarce with for my fon-I have now no home to receive him-no fimile of welcome-my bleffing and my tears are all I've left to give him. Maria. As my brother Charles was led to go abroad merely with the hopes of finding your William, they may have met; the two boys were here exemplary in their friendfhip-they may, they will afford mutual ailiftance fhould either want it. Mrs. Bell. There too, from my unworthy conduct, you and your father are now deprived of comfort and protection from a brother and a fon. Was Charles here, the Allbut's dare not treat you as they do. But I know nothing of William fince his quitting the captain that I fent him with, and proceeding by himfelf to the Eaft Indies. My boy has a relation there in power-but no accounts from him, Maria. My father and I remain in the fame uncertainty-You'll stay and take fome refreshment. Mrs. Bell. Excufe me, my dearI'll not be the caufe of drawing Mrs. Allbut's difpleasure upon you. Maria. She never wants a caufe: for that. Step into my toom-I've Maria. Don't grieve, Madam. friends friends in town-I must beg your acceptance of a part of it. Mrs. Bell. You've too much concern for me I gave you evil, and you return every good. Maria. My dear ma'am, be cheerful. (Takes her by the band, and exeunt.) Scène II. A Green. Enter Charles in a Sailor's Drefs. Charles. How every well-known object delights--Captain Vanfluifen! Enter Captain Vanfluifen. I find you receiv'd my letter. Capt. Van. Yaw, Mynheer; and I'm com❜d at de very day it bid me meet you here. My fhip have brought you riches from Batavia, fafe to Amfterdam, and now fafe to London. Cha. Pleasure, indeed! My riches I acquired by labour, difficulty, and danger-had a hard ftruggle for my life too, fince, Captain-you know impatience to re-vifit England, would not fuffer me to wait for your failing. Capt. Van. I did hear de littal fhip you embark in was caft away. Cha. Wreck'd here on the coaft -dead of night-had just time to throw on any jacket that came to hand-I got on fhore with only life dif-no cash- knew nobody. patch'd that letter to you, took a fhort stick in my hand, push'd off on foot, and with a hale conftitation and jovial heart, here am I returned to my dear native village, worth two hundred thousand pounds, which ten years ago I quitted, not mafter of Capt. Van. I did loft all your riches at fea, but I did found dem again-Ve vere taken by a French man Cha. By a Frenchman! zounds! Capt. Van. Dey did board clapp'd us all under hatches-but van of my crew, a brave young Englishman, in de mid vatch, crept out of a port up de fides of the fhig, fnatch up a hanger, overpower de French fentry, releas'd us, and ve did retook our vefiel. Cha. What, one man-Huzza! Well done little England! (takes off his hat and waves it.) Capt. Fan. De capitan of de enemy was an Irishman-fought like de dyvil-in defpair to fee his prize gone, darted on de English boy-clafp'd him in his arm, and jump'd overboard down in de vater -a heavy fea-cou'dn't flack failfaw dem no more! Cha. My fortune preferved by the lofs of a brave fellow leffens the enjoyment!-My heart throbs once. more to behold-Now for my father's; but firft a rub thwart my chin, and, (looking out,) is'n't this Grigsby the barber, drefs'd very odd for a frifeur! A worthy fellow he is there I can get-How glad am I to come home. Ah, no place like old England, not a houfe that won't fling open its doors to me; not a table without a plate, or a parlour without a nail for my hat! Bells rung bonfires, 1 warrant ! eh? (They retire.) Enter Grigsby and fome Villagers.. Grig. Don't interrupt-I am confidering a cafe-I love good eating. (Afide.) ift Vill. Now the doctor's head is fplitting with judgment. Grig. I must ingratiate myself with Mrs. Allbut-without her countenance I may thut up fhop, and cork up my wine vaults. i take fifty pounds a year of her money for only chatting at her tea-table on Italians, Della Crufcas, and the nervous system. 2d Vill. But, Doctor, my brother Tummas be main bad. Grig. Oh what you've a bad brother. material medicar, Southampton port, rum glaubers, vermifuge, fquills, alder-floe juice, and marrow-poma-ay-As he's your fon you must give tum of Pharmacopolia, British co-him fal. prunell, fal. polychreft, and niac, turnip-cyder of Tooley-ftreet, fal. almonic. malaga furgery, tawny bottle-crufts, effence of Burganny, curling-iron and apothecaryfhip, to throw away my time and skill upon all the ragged muffins o' th' place; but this is the curfe of a man's getting into reputation. ad Vill. Ay, Doctor, 'caufe you roots out a disease. Grig. So I do. I'm for none of your worthless radical cures. Cha. What has Grigfby the barber turn'd doctor apothecary? ift Vill. Our coufin Ralph be got fick again, Doctor. Grig. Oh, his malady was-I perfectly remember his cafe; he was Hl of a-a-Camera Obfcura. How did you treat him? ft Vill. Blefs you! I can't afford to treat people. When I be's in company, every man pays his own fhot. 3d. Vill. Doctor, my fon George that lifted for a foger-I got un off, but he's now at huome fick on my hands. Grig. As we of the faculty fay, much depends on diet. What's his regimen ? 3d Vill. The old Buffs. does he eat! 3d Vill. Yes: but the damn'd dog will be always running after Sal. Johnfon. Grig. My boy will mix that up for you, (giving the paper.) You'll pay him half a crown. Confufe it in a bafon of water-in that let him throw his egg-fhells, and after fhaking the bottle, fling bowl and all out at-mind-the street-window-in that may get me another patient, (afide,) firft confulting the thermometer. Begone! I'll give no more advice this morning. 1ft Vill. Ay, Doctor, times are turn'd-You don't mind poor folks now you've got a broken knee'd mare, and a new old whiskey. Grig. Broken-knee'd mare-old whiskey-ah, no chance of being look'd on till I ftep into my chariot. Cha. Is this our village? Enter a Servant in Livery. Serv. Sir, my mafter Grig. (Smiling and cringing.)— What, is your mafter taken ill? Dear gentleman! I'll run to him. (Afide.) He pays me thirty pounds a year, and won't venture out in a morning till I come and tell him which way the wind lies. (Going baftily.) Ser. No, fir; but he defires you'll fend him in a dozen of your best old port. Grig. Ha! What my black ftrap Cha. A wine-merchant too Grig. Very well. (Exit fervant.) When he drinks my port he'll foon want fomething out of my fhop. My red feal bottles, always bring one with a long cravat round his neck. Cha. Now, captain, you'll fee how glad he'll be to find I'm return'd. My father was a good friend to him; and now for a fpecimen of gratitude and early faithful attach Grig. Stop!-any bufinefs with me, mafter? (locks firange.) Cha. Ha, ha, ha !-Don't you remember Charley Willows? tleman in the country fhould fhoot hey, my glove, (fearches.) A phyfician to feel pulfes fhou'd have his hand warm, foft and white-my hand (difplays it) 'til I can fport the chariot, fhou'd, get a muff➡a · ring-my fweet old patient found dead with a brace of guineas clench'd in his fift-ready fee for the doctor-the punctual honeft foul! -the old nurfe and I dividing-I fhou'dn't have given her half-the two would have compafs'd a fmart [Exit pompous. up de peg for your hat." Cha. This a fample of my wel Grig. What, is it you? Come home in rags-this is the fufs made about him by his family! I faid how 'twou'd be, (afide-furveying Charles with contempt,) hemring, ha!-hum! (going.) Whofe chariot (looking Capt. Van. He's gone to fet de out.) Oh Madam, your moft pro- "plate of pudden for you, and found humble fervant, (bows off ob-knock fequiously.) Smart gig that! How d'ye do, fir? (bows off more familiar.) A good itout gelding!-how goes it Mr. (nods off flightly.) Cha. Well, Grigby! You've done this dev'lifh well, I was going to your fhop for a rub and a fcrub -you always had a little foap and water! Grig. Scrubs come to my houfe for foap and water. Cha. How! (with furprise and indignation) come! Capt. Van. I tink I hear "de bells ringing" I long for "de bonfire." Cha. Damn the village! I wifh 'twas on fire-but hold, there may be only one Grigfby in it. Yes, 'twas certainly my forlorn appearance! the rafcal thinks I'm come home poor. Capt. Van, If you had, mynheer Villows, you fee your welcome! Cha. Aye: but unjuft to draw a conclufion from the behaviour of this low-born murdering mountebank. (A hot heard at fome diftance.) Bri. (without.) You've certainly Grig. (Afide not regarding him.) This fellow's fifter Maria, tho', is pretty-but then, that mifs Louifa -a report that he's daughter, or fomewhat to a lord-wasn't it?an odd mystery that-hiding at Jot-wing'd her. lyboy's-poor tho', and 'tisn't what were you, but what are you. Cha. Hark'ee, Grigsby ! (angry.) Grig. (Smiling placid and contemptuous, takes fuuff.) Madam Allbut is my first object and attention--ch, isn't that fquire Hedgworth and young Briers going out hooting A prefent of fome game for Mrs. Allbut might one fhou'd never make prefents but to them that can afford to buy -How fashionable they're equip'd for the sport! I must kick up a rummage in my old mafter's wardrobe-ice if it can't afford me a fmart shooting-jacket; every gen Cha. (looking out.) Oh, now you'll fee a different affair. Here are a couple of gentlemen, my former fchool-fellows, who, except Willy Bellevue, whom to follow abroad I firit left my home, were my moft particular and intimate companions, -Yes, 'tis Enter Briers and Hedgeworth (with fowling-pieces.) Hedg. I think it fell in the marsh, Bri. No getting it without wetting one's felf, and I've no great with for Dr. Grigby's ftuff- hey, Nero! (bifiles) if I don't shoot that dog badly made, good for nothing, |