that her husband, from an excess of confidence in others, had become a bankrupt, and was in the power of merciless creditors, who threatened him every moment with a prifon; that, overwhelmed with his misfortunes, he was feized with a flow fever, which was leading him to the grave; that his young wife never quitted him; that. occupied in her endeavours to footh him, and unable to provide for the fubfiftance of two children, fhe had fold the little neceffary furniture their creditors had left them; and, in fine, that the whole family was involved in the deepest misery.

Matilda melted into tears at this melancholy recital. She fent every kind of relief to Sophia, by a trufty friend, who concealed the name of her benefactress. She did more. She called all the creditors together, took the debts upon herself, fixed the proper periods of payment, and when every thing was arranged, unknown to Sophia, the embraced the first moment of mentioning this virtuous woman to her hufband. She expreffed an impatience to know her. More than three years have elapfed fince you have loft her. How is it that you have made fuch few efforts to fee her again?'-'Alas! all my endeavours have been ineffectual. Do you think, my dear Matilda, that I have not attempted every thing, not fo much from a defire to fee her, as from I know not what anxiety infeparable from my fituation?'

I will affift your endeavours to discover her. Who knows what events may have happened? Perhaps fhe is not happy,

pinefs fhould now be restored; and the papers which the Countess had obtained from the creditors were enclosed in the letter, in which moreover fome paffionate expreffions were defignedly inferted. Mar lines was made to proteft, that neither time, or the tenderness of a wife, who adored him, had been able to efface the ardent fentiments he entertained, and that he would never cease to hope...

Sophia wept over this letter; but she was exafperated at the price which the Count appeared to fix upon his generofity; and, embracing her children; 'Oh! my poor babes, you would not have me receive these bounties on conditions that would dishonour your mother, and render your father wretched. Then taking what remained of the money fhe had received by the hands of an unknown perfon, and the creditors papers, that had just been sent to her, he flew to the houfe of Marlines, whom she no longer dreaded, and who could not fufpect fuch a vifit, What was his furprize in feeing Sophia before him. 'Alas! could I ever have foreseen that the Count de Marlines would take advantage of my misfortunes, to perfuade me to fell to him, what the moft ardent love could not obtain! Take back your odious bounties. Carry thefe notes again to our creditors, and fee, when they have dragged us to a prifon, whether extreme mifery, and the lofs of liberty, can induce me to comply with your guilty defires. Chains,

death itfelf-the death of my husband, and of my babes, will be far more fupportable than the infamy you propose.*

Matilda had no fooner obtained the fignature of Marlines, than the caufed a letter to be written in a firange hand to Sophia, as if dictated by the Count himfelf. He was made to reproach her with having fuffered him to remain ignorant of her diltieffes; she was affured that her hap

the most feasonable relief. There are generous minds, whofe delight it is to enjoy in fecrecy the unspeakable happiness of confoling the wretched. I had been defired to fupprefs my curiofity, when I received thefe bounties; but I confefs that I fometimes thought they could come from no one but you; and as I believed them to be tendered by a pure and noble mind, I received them with gratitude; but your letter, while it difcovers the benefactor, but too well explains his guily views. It has contributed more to deliver me from an unhappy paffion, than all the efforts I have been able to make. I can at length fee you without danger.-I can defpife you, and I can tell you fe. Sophia, Sophia,

fuf

Sophia put the letter into his hands. The Count, on opening it, recollected his fignature. Oh Heavens! he exclaimed, this is the contrivance of my wife. What can have been her views? He fent to requelt the prefence of Matilda. He told Sophia with what an intereft this excellent woman had entered into her concerns, the respect and friendship which the had conceived for her, the earnell defire he had fo often expreffed to fee her, and, finally, he mentioned the carte blanche, which he had requested him to give her, and which had led Sophia into this er

ror.

The moment Matilda appeared, the Count exclaimed: See the confequences of your letter: Sophia believes me to be a montter, and returns all your prefents.

I expected this, answered the Counefs, embracing them: You will each forgive me for having thus deceived you,' She then related the various fteps he had taken in order to difcover Sophia's retreat ; the perfecutions which the had difcovered this virtuous woman to have fuffered from the Count's mother, and, in a word, all that she had learned of the misfortunes of Sophia and her husband. Reduced to fuch extreme mifery,' added Matilda, "I was defirous of knowing to what an exalted height a woman might carry virtue. She has not deceived my hopes. Vanquished by her misfortunes, by your favours, and by your conftancy, perhaps, without a crime, the might have amufed you with hopes. But, in the very depth of miffortune her triumph is complete-her dif

intere@ednefs unexampled. Do not imagine, Madam, that I have been influenced by any motive of jealouly. No. My views are of a nobler kind. Receive me into the number of your friends, and Arengthen for me the endearing ties that unite me to my husband."

The Counters then defired them to accompany her to the husband of Sophia, whom they found in the midst of his children, impatient for the return of their mother. Having provided every things fhe took them away from their wretched dwelling, and conducted them to a decent house in the neighbourhood of her own. I have received from you,' faid the to the Count, a great proof of confidence indeed in the carte blanche which you have given me. You fee the ufe I have made of it. Will you indulge me with a fe cond, by figning this contract?' Marlines inftantly figned before he read it. But what emotions he felt, when, on reading it, he found it to be a deed of gift of an eftate of one hundred louis d'ors a year, which Matilda had purchafed near Paris, but which she could not alienate without his confent. O my adorable wife', faid he, embracing her, what heart would you not conquer? How delightful is it to be overcome by you!'

The grateful fentiments which Matilda infpired in the hearts of Sophia and Marlines, extinguished their paffion for ever, and changed it into a fweet and tender friendship. But the Count now became as much in love with his wife as he had been with Sophia. That charming union fubfifted between the happy parties, which no difference of rank or fituation could ditub, and which was ever after fupported by that virtue by which it had been formed.

R.

T

HE Author of the piece has chofen, for what reason we know not, to sonceal his name; it is however, attributed to an Officer high and refpectable in the fervice, who has favoured the public with fome former productions. The mufic is entirely new, and is the compofition of the truly ingenious Mr. Jackson, of Exeter.

The characters were thus reprefented: Sir John Contraft, Mr. Parfons; Y. Contrak, Mr. Paliner; Truemore, Mr.

Vernon; Rafhly, Mr. Bannister; Rental, Mr. Aickin; Le Neppe, Mr. Dedda Captain Trepan, Mr. Baddeley; Serjeant Crimp, Mr. R. Palmer; Huntman, Mr. Du Bellamy; Annette, Mifs Prudom # Sophia, Mifs Farren; Peggy, Mis. Wrighten; Moll Flagon, Mr. Suett.

The fable is briefly as follows:

Sir John Contratt, an obftinate old country Baronet, difinherits his eldest fon, for merrying a young and unportioned girl Z z.

of

of the village. The outcast, after burying his beloved wife, tried various expedients to raife a comfortable fubfiftence for his two beautiful daughters, but was at loft reduced to the necessity of returning to the place of his nativity; where his long ab fence concealing him from his recollection, he becomes his father's tenant, under the feigned name of RafhlyAt the opening of the piece, Young Contraft, Sir John's other fon, by a fecond wife, and intended heir, arrives at Castle Manor, and after ordering his brother's guns and dogs to be taken from him, is wrought upon by his valer, to attempt the feduction of his daughter Sophia, who is attached to Truemore. Foiled in this defign, heendeavours to punish her peafant father, as he fuppofes him, and her lover, for their interference, by having the former profecured as a poacher, and the latter feized by a prefs-gang-Rental, the Steward of the Manor, who humanely interefts bimfelf in the diftreffes of this amiable family, ties every expedient to prepare Sir John for the interview and reconciliation he wishes to bring about between him and his fon: for this purpose he brings him to his fon's cot tage, which Sir John had just ordered to be razed to the ground, on account of its being deemed the receptacle of romping girl-But on his arrival there, he is itruck with the native innocence of the two lovely inhabitants, his unknown granddaughters, and foofar from increasing their diftrefs, promiles Rental to make this the cottage now of comfort and joy ; and, retiring, defires them to come that evening to the castle with their father, that they might receive an earnest of his further intentions. During this interval, their father is ferved with the feveral legal proceffes for poaching, and threatened with, the terrors

of a dungeon, for not paying the penalties thereof.Tumore hearing this, goes to a recruiting party in the village, and enlifts with them, on condition that the Captain will advance him 20 guineas, and allow him half an hour before he meets him at Sir John Contraft's, the Juftice's, to be attefted. Le Neppe meeting Peggy, attempts to bribe her with a rouleau, to be tray her young miftrefs Sophy; he takes the money, but instead of aiding his scheme, gives him a bottle of poppy water and brandy, and throws him dead drunk into a ditch.The party now, thinking their new recruit overftays his time, go out in search of him as a delener, and coming up to Peggy, inquire if the has feen him? Peggy obferving him at this moment, and thinking it a good opportunity of being revenged of this leader of all the plans againit her mistress, points him out as the man; accordingly he is feized, and carried before his father, at Cattle Manor, as a deferter. The catastrophe begins now to wind up. Truemore comes in at this moment, and pays down the money he had received of the Officer, to release Rafhly from his captivity, and then joins the party. Peggy furrenders up her rouleau as a reward to Truemore's generofiey. Sir John Contraft is no fooner informed of the infamous defigns of his fon Contraft on Sophia, than Rental opportunely prefents his difcarded fon before him, whose forgivenefs is immediately fealed; young Contraft flies to town with the promise of a fecond fon's fortune, if he alters his courfe of life and Truemore is promifed the hand of his long loved Sophia, who with her father and fifter have now full poffeffion given them of Castle Manor, and the piece concludes with a vaudeville.

HOLDEAST. [Without.]

Tax, you rascal! two fhillings the tax, and pay you for driving befides? Out of the house, or I'll tax every bone in

your

your skin-[Enters. ]-What an extraordinary expence has my impatience to fee this rogue colt me? But if what be affures me in his letter be true, I fhall bear the lofs with pleasure, till I can fave it fome way elfe. My dear Harry's reformation is a drop of cordial to my heart. · · If I'm to believe him, I cou'd not myself have Ived more prudently." I hope it's true I hope it's true.

Phil. That must be our ciie. * 24 {They both come forward. Trim. O my dear worthy Siring Bywony To Holdfalt

Phil. Ofweet Mr Holdfall!270 han Trim. How I blets the hour in which I fee you!

Phil. How it rejoices me to see you Look fo fresh, hale, and ruddy!!

Hold. O-Mrs. Phillis I'm glad to fee you. So, Trimbuh, how does my nephew do?

Trim. O, Sir, he'll be transported to hear you are arrived. He never was bet

ter.

Phil. (Pulling Trim.) That is, Sir, he is much better, much better indeed than he has been.'

Hold. Has been! why he hasn't been fick, has he? al darrengass Phil. O lord, Sir, we thought he'd have never recover'd. engedni a to "Trim We thought he'd have never recover'd, indeed, Sir What the deuce does the mean peta konini ai tro(Alide. Hold. Good-lack ove

Phil. This ftudy, Sir, in my mind, is a very unhealthy occupation.

Hold, Study, Phillis ut aitaă Phil. Yet your nephew, Sir Harry, has no other at prefent. Morning, noon, and night; nothing but read, read, read. bus

Trim. Nothing, indeed, Sir: night, noon, and morning. (Afide.) What ean the mean?!

Hold. Well, I begin to hope he has not deceived me. But this is very ftrange news, Phillis.

Phil. It is no less strange than true tho'.

Trim. It is no lefs true indeed, Sir. Hold. My poor Hal! but, it is strange he never fent to inform his own uncle of his illness.

Phil. O, Sir, he never could bring himfelf to do it. He knew what a good heart you had, and cou'd not bear the thoughts of giving you uneafinefs. Could he, Trimbufh?

Trim. He could not bear it, that's certain.

Phil, I'm fure many and many is the tear Ifhed, when Trimbuh used to tell me the dutiful things he faid of you, when he was at the very wort. Didn't he, Trimbah 2:

Trim. O, Sir 4 and ga

Hold. Tell me, good Trimbush, tell me poor Hal hitu

Trim) (Hetitating, and then pushing Phillis forward.) Philliso remembers every word of it, Sir

Phil Ay, that I do. Tahnbush, said he, when I'm dead,. tell my honour'd uncle, that the only uneafinefs I feel in my latt hour is, that I have not had him a witnels to my reformation, and made him fome amends for the anxiety my past extravagance must have caufed him.

Hold. Of fhall cry for joy.

Phil But wait, faid he, till I am dead. Don't let him know a word of my illness till then I wou'd not give him ufelefs uneasiness for the mines of Peru. Were not these the words, Trimbush ?.......

Trim The very words. I wou'd not give him ufelefs uneafinefs for the mines of Peru. Tols

Hold. Poor Hal! But you say nothing of his oeconomy of 95.

Phil O, Sir, it is impoffible to say enough of his beconomy, no

Holds Now you'l charm me indeed. boPhil. His cellars, that once cou'd have fet up twenty wine-merchants, are now resduced to the dregs of hollow buts, half bogheads on the ftoop, tand the four remains of pint bottles fo that there's nothing fweet in his whole cellar but his vinegarri zirc

Hold. The fweet fellow; what a treat it will be to me now to eat a bit of mutton with him, and drink a glass of his four wine.

Phil, His kitchen is ten times worfe→→ better I mean, Sir. It is the very cave of famine. Afk Trimbufh; he belt knows

that.

Hold. Why, I can't fay much for that; Trimbuh does not look as if he came out of the cave of famine...

Trim. That ftroke was unlucky.

(Afide. Phil. Trimbuh, Sir, has a good deal of the wild-afs about him.he fattens upon airin

Trim. Yes, Sir, I have a great deal of the wild-afs about me. #1

Hold. Well, I have heard enough. I must go and embrace him this very mo(Going. [Hold

(Holdfaft is all this time making towards the door, and Trimbush moving about before him.

Trim. Sir, you must not go in, Hold. Must not go in, Sir? Trim. Ne, not for the world. Hold. And why not for the world, Sir? Trim. Why, Sir! Afk Phillis, Sir; the can tell you better than I.

Phil. Sir, you must know, that Sir Harry has got an unhappy custom

Hold How, unhappy! you're not going to spoil all.

Phil. O no, Sir, be has only got a strange custom of fitting up the whole night to study, and does not give himself a moment's fleep in the day, except a fhort nap in his chair after dinner!

Hold. A fhort nap in his chair after dinner.

Trim. Yes, Sir; and that the poor gentieman is now taking..

Hold. Well, the more I hear, the more I am aftonished, and the more impatient to fee him-He won't think it much to be awaken'd for his own dear uncle. [Going. Trim. (preventing him.) Why, Sir, you won't have the confcience L Hold. I will fee him, Trimbuh.

a

Phil. It will be fo heard hearted.. Ho'd. I will go in, Phillis. Trim. Well, Si, let me go in first to prepare him.

Hold. Well, well, make baffe; let me know when he's ready [Thrufting Trim bush out, a noife within, and it'oing.] But, Phillis, what noife is this I hear? What terrible noife is this?

Phil. (afide.) I with you had been deaf with all my foulNoife, Sir? Why you must know, as your nephew is now foufed head and ears into the arts and fciences, his houfe is the rendezyous of all the great philofophers about

town.

Hold. Qay, the great philofophers, Phil. Yes, Sir and as thefe gentlemen are fo very tenacious of their own opinions, and will difpute with each other about the breaking of an egg, or the (plitting of a hair, they make fuch a noife and a racket in the houfe, that an old gouty gentleman, who live next door, threatens to get it indicted for a nuisance.

Hold. But, Phillis, thefe philofophers have, in general, damn'd ftomachs! they won't drink the four dregs of the piat

bottles.

Phil. As for that, Sir, I affure you they get no more than they bring.-Words, Sir, words, and no more, I can affure you.

Hold. Ha! Ha! well, it muß bë fine fport to hear their disputes.

Phil. That it would, Sir; but here comes your nephew.

Enter Sir Harry and Trimbysk. Sir Harry. My dearest uncle; this is fo kind!

Hold. Come to my arms, Hal; every thing I hear of you, fills me with joy : ait my anxiety is now at an end, and I shall clofe my life with content. རོསྣུས།

Sir Harry. I have endeavoured, Sir, to render myself worthy at last of so good an uncle. Your kind advice, and your excellent letters, have not, I hope, been thrown away upon me,

Hold. Hal, they are full of wife max. ims; the fruits of my own experience, boy.

Sir Harry. Solomon, Sir, might have burned his proverbs, and learned wifdom from them. They have happily withdrawn me from the paths of folly, and, I hope, that my feet fhall never depart from them

Hold. For they will lead thee to treafures of gold.-My own very words, indeed: I fee they have made their impreffon-But, Hal-this fitting up of nights

Sir Harry. It is a pernicious habit.-[ have laid it afide with all my other follies. Hold. Why, they tell me 'tis your conftant practice.

Sir Harry. They are vile defamers who tell you fo, and my enemies.

Tumbuh and Phillis make figns to
Sir Harry.]

Phil. La, Sir. why should you conceal the only had habt, thank Heaven, you have left-Mr. Holdfaft koows all-Trimba and I have told it all ap

Sir Harry Told what ?

Phil. Why your new paffion for study, and that inftead of fleeping, you give up the whole night to reading.

Sir Harry. Why, Sir, fince they have told you

Hold. It must not be, Hal; it must not be. If this be your way, I'm not at all furpris'd at your late illness.

Sir Harry. Late illness, Sir! I have not been ill

Phil. There again--What then I fup. pofe, your great application has not hurt your conftitution?

Trim. Why, Sir, he knows it all; and what fignifies.

Hold. Hal! Hal! I never knew a bookifh man that cou'd fave a guinea; as far as Fisher's Arithmetic, or the table of Compound Intereft, or the scheme of the lotsery books may fometimes do.