noise in the street about? This is behaviour that people would little expect from you, Sir ! Guad. Why, what would you have me do, neighbour!-I have a thief in my house, a scoundrel to whom I give my bread, and— Lor. There, Sir;-you hear--you hear his accusation-Wonderful! He gives me bread and I eat it!

Guad. Yes! traitor! But I don't give it you to carry love-letters between my daughter and her gallant.

Lor. Oh, fie, Sir! What are you going to tell the gentleman ?

Gaud. Why, sirrah, is it not truth ?

Lor. Sir! Sir! If there be a wicked man in the whole world, it is my master-There has he kept me tied up like a dog to a manger all last night, because I would not carry a billet-doux from him to a certain very honest virtuous woman, who is one of his best friends too and now he has the impudence, I mean imprudence, to say it was a love-letter from his daughter.-(aside to the Merchant) The old lying libertine !

Merch. Why, truly, if that be the fact, I think the lad is in the right. Is it proper for a person of your years to employ youth upon such errands?

Guad. So! so! so!-Here's another!And so you give more credit to the impertinences of that booby, than to me! Me, whom you have known so many years, and have seen discharging the duties of so many honourable employments?

P... VOL. 1.

Lor. (to the Merchant) Oh, yes! honoura ble employments !-To be sure he was four years hangman at Saragossa!

Guad. See, see!Is it possible for human impudence to surpass this!-Let me get at him-let me get at him-I'll murder him!

Merch. Moderate your anger, Signior Guadarrama-I believe you; and would advise you to turn this whimsical fellow away : for, by what I can perceive of you both, it is not likely you should agree together.

Guad. With all my heart; the sooner the better! And I hope I shall never see his face again, for I have not had a moment's quiet since he has been with me.

Lor. Oh! I'll go as soon as he pleases : but, pray, desire him to pay me what I owe him first.

Guad. Why, booby! jack-ass ! num-scull! If you owe me, how can I have any thing to pay you? Get along about your business, hound! and never enter my house again.

Lor. Why, what should I do in your house? (mutters) An old drunken hobgoblin! Would you have me starved, till I am as dry, as shrivelled, and as ugly as yourself?

Sir

Guad. This is too much!

I'll teach you, [Exit Lorenzo. Merch. He is fled.-Never mind him; he is beneath your notice: all that he wants is to put you in a passion.

Guad. Heaven be praised for my deliverance!-I assure you, Sir, he is one of the

wickedest dogs in the universe.

There nev

er was such another lazy, awkward, insolent, cheating, gormandizing, stupid beast; with every vice, and without one good quality !— But let us talk of something else. My daughter gives me a great deal of uneasiness: she has fallen in love with somebody; who he is I don't know; and I have discovered that she writes to him. Her extreme youth may occasion her to commit some folly that would be the death of me. You are a wise man ; what would you advise me to do?

Merch. Humph!-If I were in your place, I would always carry the key of my house in my pocket; then nobody could see my daughter, unless I were present; and if she went out, I would always go along with

her.

Guad. Very true-very true !—Thank you, my good friend. I will take your advice; we shall see, then, who will overreach me. Let me beg of you to do me another favour. Do you yourself read my daughter a lecture upon her imprudence; she does not want delicacy; and I don't doubt but she will blush at her fault when she finds that the whole neighbourhood knows it.

Merch. If you think that it will be of any use, I'll do it with all my heart. I must come, however, by and by; for at present I have some business to transact that I must not neglect. Permit me therefore to take my leave.

Guad. My very good friend, I wish you a

good day. (Exit Merchant)-Oh! what an intolerable burden is it for a man who is a widower to have an unmarried handsome daughter upon his hands! Your house is haunted by every idle young fellow in the parish. But I shall be a match for them; they may stand and kick their heels in the street till they cough themselves into consumptions, if they please, before they shall find an opportunity of whispering the least word to Isabella! No, no; I defy them!

Enter Leander; with him Lorenzo, dressed like a Woman, and covered with a large Veil: they speak together at the Top of the Stage.

Lean. Yonder is your master, Lorenzo! Hide your face well! and, when you are in the house, remember to tell my dear Isabella every word I have repeated to you.

Lor. Yes; and so I suppose her father will either break my neck, or kill me by starving

me.

Lean. Never fear; we shall soon come to your assistance: only take care to play your part well. Signior Guadarrama, I hope I have the happiness to see you in good health.

Guad. Ah, Signior, Leander ! Goodmorrow! good-morrow! What has brought you to this part of the town so soon in the morning?

Lean. Something which I believe will claim your attention as much as mine. I know you to be a worthy good-natured man, and I dare say you will not refuse me the favour

I am going to ask of you. This lady happened just now to be conversing in the street with one of her relations; her husband, who unfortunately did not know the gentleman was related to him, imagined him to be his wife's gallant, and on that supposition fell into a terrible passion; ay, and if it had not been for me, would certainly have killed her. Let me beg of you, then, Sir, to receive her into your house for a short time, till several well disposed people, and the relation himself, can convince her husband of the unjustness of his suspicions.

Guad. Indeed, Signior Leander, I don't know what to say to this. I should be glad to oblige you by protecting the lady; but I should be sorry to have it reported that my house is become the asylum of imprudent people.

Lean. Oh, Sir, you may assure yourself I would not interest myself in the behalf of such people; much less entreat you to receive them into a house so respectable as yours. This lady is a miracle of virtue and prudence. Her husband, in the first transport of passion, has used her ill; but, when he shall know the truth, he will acknowledge himself infinitely obliged to you; and you will obtain the character, through the whole city, of the Protector of the Unfortunate.

Guad. Well, Sir, if that be the case, pray leave the lady; and, I assure you, I shall be happy to do her every service in my power. Lean. I don't doubt it, Sir. I expected