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Enter Miss RICHLAND and her MAID.

Miss Richland.

You'll be surpris'd, Sir, with this visit. But you know I'm yet to thank you for chusing my little library.

Honeywood.

Thanks, madam, are unnecessary; as it was I that was obliged by your commands. Chairs here. Two of my very good friends, Mr. Twitch and Mr. Flanigan. Pray, gentlemen, sit without ceremony.

Miss Richland.

Who can these odd-looking men be! I fear it is as I was informed.

It must be so.

(Aside.)

Bailiff, (after a pause.)

Pretty weather, very pretty weather for the time of the year, madam.

Follower.

Very good circuit weather in the country.

dies.

Honeywood.

You officers are generally favorites among the laMy friends, madam, have been upon very disagrecable duty, I assure you. The fair should in some measure recompense the toils of the brave!

Miss Richland.

Our officers do indeed deserve every favor. The gentlemen are in the marine service I presume, Sir?

Honeywood.

Why, madam, they do occasionally serve in the feet, madam. A dangerous service!

Miss Richland.

I'm told so. And I own it has often surprised me, that while we have had so many instances of bravery there, we have had so few of wit at home to praise it.

Honeywood.

I grant, madam, that our poets have not written as our soldiers have fought; but they have done all they could, and Hawke or Amherst could do no more.

Miss Richland.

I'm quite displeased when I see a fine subject spoiled by a dull writer.

Honeywood.

We should not be so severe against dull writers, madam. It is ten to one, but the dullest writer exceeds the most rigid French critic who presumes to despise him.

Follower.

Damn the French, the parle vous, and all that be: longs to them.

Miss Richland.

Sir!

Honeywood.

Ha, ha, ha! honest Mr. Flanigan. A true English officer, madam; he's not contented with beating the French, but he will scold them too.

Miss Richland.

Yet, Mr. Honeywood, this does not convince me but that severity in criticism is necessary. It was our first adopting the severity of French taste, that has brought them in turn to taste us.

Bailiff.

Taste us! By the Lord, madam, they devour us. Give monseers but a taste, and I'll be damn'd but they come in for a bellyfull.

Miss Richland.

Very extraordinary this!

Follower.

But very true. What makes the bread rising ? the parle vous that devour it. What makes the mutton five pence a pound? the parle vous that eat it up. What makes the beer threepence-halfpenny a pot?

Honeywood.

Ah! the vulgar rogues; all will be out. (Aside.) Right, gentlemen, very right upon my word, and quite to the purpose. They draw a parallel, madam, be

tween the mental taste and that of our senses. We are injured as much by the French severity in the one, as by French rapacity in the other. That's their meaning.

Miss Richland.

Though I don't see the force of the parallel, yet I'll own, that we should sometimes pardon books, as we do our friends, that have now and then agreeable absurdities to recommend them.

Bailiff.

That's all my eye. The king only can pardon, as the law says: for set in case

Honeywood.

I'm quite of your opinion, Sir. I see the whole drift of your argument. Yes, certainly, our presum

ing to pardon any work, is arrogating a power that belongs to another. If all have power to condemn, what writer can be free?

Bailiff.

By his habus corpus. His habus corpus can set him free at any time: for, set in case

Honeywood.

I'm oblig'd to you, Sir, for the hint. If, madam, as my friend observes, our laws are so careful of a gentleman's person, sure we ought to be equally careful of his dearer part, his fame.

Follower.

Ay, but if so be a man's nabb'd you know

Honeywood.

Mr. Flanigan, if you spoke for ever, you could not improve the last observation. For my own part, I think it conclusive.

Bailiff

As for the matter of that, mayhap→→→

Honeywood.

Nay, Sir, give me leave in this instance to be positive. For where is the necessity of censuring works without genius, which must shortly sink of themselves? what is it, but aiming our unnecessary blow against a victim already under the hands of justice?

Bailiff.

Justice! O, by the elevens, if you talk about justice, I think I am at home there: for, in a course of law

Honeywood.

My dear Mr. Twitch, I discern what you'd be at perfectly; and I believe the lady must be sensible of the art with which it is introduced. I suppose you perceive the meaning, madam, of his course of law.

Miss Richland.

I protest, Sir, I do not. I perceive only that you answer one gentleman before he has finished, and the other before he has well begun.

Bailiff.

Madam, you are a gentlewoman, and I will make the matter out. This here question is about severity and justice, and pardon, and the like of they. Now to explain the thing

Honeywood.

O! curse your explanations.

Enter SERVANT.

Servant.

[Aside.

Mr. Leontine, Sir, below, desires to speak with you upon earnest business.

Honeywood.

That's lucky. (Aside.) Dear madam, you'll excuse me, and my good friends here, for a few minutes. There are books, madam, to amuse you. Come, gentlemen, you know I make no ceremony with such friends. After you, Sir. Excuse me. Well, if I must. But I know your natural politeness.

Bailiff.

Before and behind, you now.

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