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Hunks. 'Tis my young cousin Griffio.

He's heir to a great eftate you know. He discovered a furprising genius almoft as foon as he was born. When he was a very child, he made him a box, with one small hole in it, into which he could juft crowd his money, and could not get it out again without breaking his box; by which means he made a continual addition till he filled it, and

Blithe. Enough! Enough! I've a fufficient idea of his character without hearing another word. But are you fure you fhall obtain this excellent match for your daughter?

Hunks. Oh, I'm certain on't, I affure you, and my utmolt wishes are gratified with the profpect. He has a large patrimony lying between two excellent farms of mine which are at least worth two thousand pounds. Thefe I've given to my daughter; and have ordered her uncle to take the deeds into his own hands, and deliver them to her on the day of her marriage.

Blithe. Then it feems you've almoft accomplished the bufinefs. But have you got the confent of the young gentleman in the affair?

Hunks. His confent! what need I care about his confent? fo long as I've his father's, that is fufficient for my purpose. Blithe. Then you intend to force the young couple to mar ry, if they are unwilling?

Hunks. Thofe two thoufand pounds will foon give them a difpofition I'll warrant you.

Blithe. Your fchemes, I confefs, are artfully concerted; but I must tell you, for your mortification, that the young gentleman is already married.

Hunks. What do you fay! already married? it can't be ! I don't believe a fyllable on't!

Blithe. Every fyllable is true whether you believe it or not. I received a letter this day from his father; if you won't be lieve me, you may read it. (gives him the letter) There's the account in the poftfcript. (points to it.)

Hunks reads-[I had almoft forgot to tell you, that laft Thursday my fon was married to Mifs Clary Brentford, and that all parties are very happy in the connection.] Confufion! (throws down the letter.) What does this mean! married to Clary Brentford! This is exactly one of coufin Tom's villanous tricks. He promifed me that his fon fhould marry

my daughter upon condition that I would give her those two farms; but I can't imagin from what ftupid motives he has altered his mind.

Blithe. Difappointment is the common lot of all men, even our furelt expectations are fubject to misfortune.

Hunks. Difappointment! this comes from a quarter from which I least expected one. But there's the deeds, I'll take care to fecure them again; 'tis a good hit that I did not give them to the young rogue beforehand.

Blithe. That was well thought of; you keep a good look out, I fee, though you cannot avoid fome difappeintments. I fee nothing in the way now, to hinder my fon's proceeding: you will easily grant your confent, now you're cut off from your former expectations.

Hunks. I can't fee into this crooked affair-I'm heartily vex'd at it. What could induce that old villain to deceive me in this manner? I fear this was fome scheme of my daughter's to prevent the effect of my defign. If this is her plan, if he fets fo light by two thousand pounds, the fhall foon know what it is to want it, I'll promife her.

Blithe. If you had befłow'd your gift, without croffing her inclination, the would have accepted it very thankfully.

Hunks. O, I don't doubt it in the leaft; that would have been a pretty story indeed! but fince he infifts upon gratifying a foolish fancy, the may follow her own inclination, and take the confequences of it; I'll keep the favors I meant to beftow on her, for those that know how to prize them, and that merit them by a becoming gratitude.

Blithe. But you won't reject her destitute of a patrimony and a father's bleffing?

Hunks. Not one farthing fhall fhe ever receive from my hand. Your fon may take her, but her perfon is barely all that I'll give him; he has feduced her to difobey her father, and he fhall feel the effects of it.

Blithe. You're fomewhat ruffled, I perceive, but I hope you'll recall these rash resolutions in your cooler moments. Hunks. No, never, I give you my word, and that's as fixed as the laws of the Medes and Perfians.

Blithe. But look ye, Sir, here's another circumftance to be attended to; my fon has the deeds already in his own hands.

P

Hunks. Deeds! what deeds! those I gave to my brother? Blithe, Yes, the very fame.

Hunks. What a compofition of villainy and witchcraft is here! What, my deeds given up to your fon?

Blithe. Yes; your brother thought that my son had an undoubted title to them now, fince his coufin was married, and fo he gave them up the next day.

Hunks. This is intolerable! I could tear the scalp from my old brainless fcull; why had I not more wit than to trust them. with him? I'm cheated every way! I can't trust a farthing with the best friend I have upon earth!

Blithe. That is very true, 'tis no wonder you can't trust your best friends. The truth of the cafe is, you have no friend, nor can you expect any fo long as you make an idol of yourself, and feast your fordid avaricious appetite upon the misfortunes of mankind. You take every poffible advantage, by the present calamities, to gratify your own felfifh difpofition. So long as this is the cafe, depend upon it, you will be an object of universal deteftation. There is no one on earth that would not rejoice to fee how you're bro't in. Your daughter now has got a good inheritance, and an agreeable partner, which you were in duty bound to grant her; but, instead of that, you were then doing your utmost to deprive her of every enjoyment in life. (Hunks puts his hand to his breaft.) I don't wonder your confcience fmites you for your villany. Don't you fee how juftly you have been cheated into your duty?

Oh, my

Hunks. I'll go this moment to an attorney, and get a warrant ; I'll put the villain in jail before an hour is at an end. deeds! my farms! what shall I do for my farms! Blithe. Give yourself no farther trouble about them, there's no evidence in the cafe; you must be fenfible therefore, an action can't lie. I would advise you to reft contented, and learn from disappointments, not to place fuch an exhorbitant value upon wealth. In the mean time I fhould be very glad of your company at the wedding. My fon and his wife would be very happy to see you.

Hunks. The dragon fly away with you, and your fon, and your fon's wife. my farms! what shall I do for my farms!

POETRY.

CONTEMPT of the common OBJECTS of PURSUIT. HONOR and fhame from no condition rife;

;

A&t well your part there all the honor lies.
Fortune in men has fome fmall difference made
One flaunts in rags; one flutters in brocade ;
The cobler apron'd; and the parfon gown'd;
The friar hooded, and the monarch crown'd.
"What differ more (you cry) than crown and cowl ?"
I'll tell you, friend! A wife man and a fool.
You'll find if once the wife man acts the monk,
Or, cobler-like, the parfon will be drunk ;
Worth makes the man, and want of it the fellow;
The rest is all but leather or prunella.

Go! if your ancient, but ignoble blood,

Has crept through fcoundrels ever fince the flood;
Go! and pretend your family is young;
Nor own your fathers have been fools fo long.
What can ennoble fots, or flaves, or cowards?
Alas! not all the blood of all the Howards.

Look next on greatnefs. Say where greatness lies?
Where, but among the heroes and the wife.
Heroes are all the fame, it is agreed,

From Macedonia's madman to the Swede.
The whole ftrange purpose of their lives, to find,
Or make an enemy of all mankind.

Not one looks backward, onward ftill he goes;
Yet ne'er looks forward farther than his nofe.
No lefs alike the politic and wife;

All fly, flow things, with circumfpective eyes:
Men in their loofe unguarded hours they take;
Not that themfelves are wife; but others weak.
But
grant that thofe can conquer; these can cheat
'Tis phrafe abfurd to call a villain great.
Who wickedly is wife, or madly brave,
Is but the more a fool, the more a knave.
Who noble ends by noble means obtains,
Or, falling, fmiles in exile, or in chains,
Like good Aurelius let him reign; or bleed
Like Socrates; that man is great indeed!

What's fame? a fancy'd life in other's breath;'
A thing beyond us, even before our death.

Juft what you hear's your own; and what's unknown,
The fame (my lord!) if Tully's or your own.

All that we feel of it, begins and ends

In the fmall circle of our foes and friends;
To all befides as much an empty fhade,
An Eugene living, as a Cæfar dead;
Alike, or when or where they fhone, or fhine,
Or on the Rubicon, or on the Rhine.

A wit's a feather, and a chief's a rod;
An honest man's the nobleft work of God.
Fame, but from death a villain's name can fave,
As juftice tears his body from the grave;
When what t' oblivion better were confign'd
Is hung on high, to poifon half mankind.
All fame is foreign, but of true desert ;

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Plays round the head; but comes not to the heart.-
One felf-approving hour whole years outweighs
Of flupid ftarers, and of loud huzzaș ;
And more true joy, Marcellus exil'd feels,
Than Cæfar with a fenate at his heels.

In parts fuperior what advantage lies?
Tell (for you can) what is it to be wife?
'Tis but to know, how little can be known:
To fee all others' faults, and feel our own:
Condemn'd in bufinefs or in arts to drudge,
Without a fecond and without a judge.
Truths would you teach, to fave a finking land,«
All fear, none aid you; and few understand.
Painful pre-eminence! yourself to view
Above life's weakness, and its comfort's too.
Bring then thefe bleflings to a strict account;
Make fair deductions: fee to what they 'mount ;'
How much of other cach is fure to coft;
How each for other oft is wholly loft;
How inconfiftent greater goods with these;
How fometimes life is rifk'd, and always cafe;
Think; and if ftill fuch things thy envy call,
Say, would't thou be the man to whom they fall
To figh for sibbands if thou art fo filly,

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