g - ga*yg . nu - t 
 
 v-m 
 
 Columbia ©nitifisitu 
 
 imljfCitpofllmignrk 
 
 THE LIBRARIES 
 
 IV-scntcu by 
 Coleman C. Parsons 
 
THE 
 
 MAN OF BUSINESS, 
 
 A 
 
 COMEDY. 
 
 As It is Acted at the 
 
 Theatre-Royal in Covent-Garden. 
 
 By GEORGE C 0 L M A N. 
 
 Mihi res, nets me rebus fubmittere (oner. Ho*. 
 
 THE SECONP EDITION. 
 
 LONDON, 
 
 Printed for T. BECKET, ?.t the Comer of the 
 Adelphi, in the Strand. 
 
 MDCCLXXIV. 
 
 ( Price One Shilling and Six Pence. ) 
 
( iii ) 
 
 TO THE HONOURABLE 
 
 'CONSTANTINE JOHN PHIPPS . 
 
 S I R, 
 
 W ERE the motives of dedication can¬ 
 didly acknowledged, perhaps it 
 would appear that authors in general rather 
 intend a compliment to their own vanity, 
 than to that of their patrons. Pat;on, I 
 flatter myfelf, will, in the prefent in dance, 
 appear to You too coid and diftant an ex- 
 preflion ; and though I entertain all due ref- 
 peft for fuperior rank and fituatien, and 
 am happy in feizing an opportunity of de¬ 
 claring to the world that I am honoured 
 with the friendfhip of Mr. Phipps, yet 
 never was there an epiftle of this nature, 
 in which mere vanity had a more incon- 
 fiderable Share ; nor Should I be thus proud 
 of proclaiming my affe&ion for him, were 
 I not convinced of his being poffefled of 
 qualities and aecomplifhments that would 
 distinguish and adorn the moft humble, as - 
 well as the moft elevated fituation. 
 
 In the midft of the moft familiar inter¬ 
 course, I Should be loth to forfeit in any de¬ 
 gree the partiality you are pleafed to Shew 
 me, by the fmalleft appearance of flat¬ 
 tery. But when I do but echo the voice of 
 A 2 all 
 
iv- DEDICATION. 
 
 all thofe who are acquainted with your pub-* 
 lick or private character ; when I barely ob- 
 ierve, that in an age of the moft unbounded 
 diflipaticn, You have devoted your time to 
 the attainment of all ufefui and elegant know¬ 
 ledge; joining to the moft amiable difpofi- 
 tion the moft unfhaken integrity, as well as 
 a thorough acquaintance with the conftitu- 
 tiomof your country, together with the moft 
 able and faithful difcharge of the duties of 
 your profeftion—when 1 juft faintly jflcetch 
 thefe outlines of your character, it will, I 
 hope, rather, be fuppofed that I prefume to 
 hint to you what the world feems to expedfc 
 from a young man of fafliion of fo great 
 promife, than that I mean to corrupt you, 
 or degrade, myfelf, by idle compliment and 
 mean adulation. 
 
 Of the Comedy which I now prefent to 
 you, I will venture to fay but little. It is 
 difficult for any man to fpeak with a to>- 
 lerable grace'of himlelf, and literary per¬ 
 formances ought to be their own recom¬ 
 mendation; yet i will notfcrnple to confefs* 
 that if I thought it entirely defpicable, I 
 would not follieit your acceptance of it: 
 Three of the great writers, enumerated in 
 the Prologue, Plautus, Terence, and Mar- 
 montel, have, contributed to enrich it, A 
 play lately exhibited on the French ftage, 
 the Deux Amis of M. Beaumarchais, alio 
 foggefted fome hints of the fable ; but the 
 races of them in this Comedy are fo little 
 appa- 
 
DEDICATION. 
 
 apparent, that if I did not thus acknowledge 
 the fburces from which I have drawn, l 
 queftion if the ingenious author himfelf 
 would be able to claim his own property. 
 
 Did I conceive that this play contained 
 any paflages unfavourable to liberty, more 
 efpseially the liberty of the prefs, You, Sir, 
 would be one of the laft perfons in the 
 kingdom to whole prote&ion I fhould ven¬ 
 ture to recommend it. The liberty of the 
 prefs is a molt invaluable privilege j yet 
 that liberty, like every other fpecies of li¬ 
 berty, may be abufed 5 and while it remains 
 (as it is to be hoped it ever will remain) 
 unreftrained by law, the abufe of it is more 
 peculiarly the objedt of Comedy, whofe pro¬ 
 vince it is, by wholefome and general fa- 
 tire, to correct thofe failings and enormi¬ 
 ties, of which, the law takes no cognifance. 
 Better were it that thoufands and ten thou- 
 iands of fuch infignificant individuals as my- 
 felf fhould be malicioufly flandered, than 
 that facred right of Englifhmen fhould be 
 violated or infringed : yet who will juftify 
 the l'candalous perfonalities{politicks entirely 
 out of the quellion) that difgrace our newl^ 
 papers ? It is not however fufficient, it feenis, 
 to endure them patiently, without a wifh 
 to interrupt their progrels, but the gentlell 
 retort is enough to fet all Grub-Street in an 
 uproar*} and the mod: good-humoured ridi¬ 
 cule of tliefe illuflrious authors is an attack 
 upon the liberty of the prefs:—a liberty 
 which 
 
Vi DEDICATION, 
 
 v5/hich they are realous to exercife in its 
 fulled extent, without allowing any portion 
 of it to their opponents ■, not considering 
 that the chief benefit of the liberty of the 
 prefs refults from its being open to all, and 
 affording a free examination of both fides of 
 every queftion. The very liberty they take, 
 however, they are not willing to give ; like 
 a fcavenger I law the other day in the ft'reet, 
 who befpattered every paffenger with the 
 contents of his mud-cart, but lent a volley 
 of curfes after a lady of quality, who hap¬ 
 pened to fplalh him as fhe drove by in her 
 chariot. 
 
 Having faid thus much of my Comedy, 
 in vindication of the freedom I have ufed 
 in inlcribing it to You, I will not trefpafs 
 longer on your patience, than to repeat the 
 fatisfaftion I feel in thus openly teftifying 
 my regard, and that I have the honour 
 to be, 
 
 Sir, 
 
 Your moft devoted, faithful, 
 
 Covent-Garden, 
 
 And affectionate humble fervant,- 
 
 GEORGE COLMAN. 
 
PROLOGUE, 
 
 Spoken by Mr. WOODWARD. 
 
 Enter as an Author with a Manufcript, 
 
 S EE here, good folks, how genius is abus’d 1 
 A play of mine! the manager refus’d! 
 
 And why ?—I knew the reafon well enough— 
 
 Only to introduce his own damn’d Huff. 
 
 Oh ! he’s an arrogant, invidious elf. 
 
 Who hates all wit, and has no wit himfelf! 
 
 As to the plays on which he builds his fame, 
 
 Boafting your praife, we all know whence they came. 
 Crown him with ivy, leaft of Brentford kings! 
 
 For ftill, like ivy, round fome oak he clings. 
 
 Plays you have damn’d, their authors yet unknown, 
 Truft me, good people, thofe were all his own. 
 
 If his lame Genius ever flood the teft, 
 
 ’Twas but a crutch’d noun-adjective at beft; 
 
 Or rather expletive , whofe weak pretence 
 Occupies fpace, but adds not to the fenfe. 
 
 His Lady-Mufe, tho’ puling, wan, and thin, 
 
 With Green-Room caudle all in ftate lies-in ; 
 
 His brats fo ricketty, ’tis ftill their curfe 
 To be fwath’d, Twaddled, and put out to nurfe; 
 Brought up on playhoufe pap, they waule and cry, 
 Crawl on the ftage, or in convulfions die. 
 
 His play to-night, like all he ever wrote, 
 
 Is pie-ball’d, piec’d, and patch’d, like Jofeph’s coat; 
 Made up of Ihreds from Plautus and Corneille, 
 Terence, Moiiere, Voltaire, and Marmontel, 
 
 With rags from fifty others I might mention, 
 
 Which proves him dull and barren of invention: 
 
 But fnall his nonfenfe hold the place of fenfe ? 
 
 No, Damn him! Damn him, in your own defence 1 
 Elfe on your mercy will the Dwarf prefume, 
 
 Nor e’er give Giant Genius elbow-room. 
 
PROLOGUE. 
 
 viii 
 
 Now, now, my friends, we’ve brought him tO’-the flake; 
 Bait him ! and then, perhaps, fome fport he’ll make.. - 
 I’ve lin’d the home hi frn. -’-ove, below ; 
 
 Friends, like dried figs, 11. . j row! 
 
 Some wits in ambufh, in the sj.mtry lit; 
 
 Some form a critick phalanx in the pit; 
 
 Some Matter’d forces their fnrili cattails play, 
 
 And ftrike the Tiny Scribler with difmay. 
 
 On then my hearts ! charge ! fire ' your triumph’s certain 
 O’er his weak battery from behind the curtain! 
 To-morrow’s Chronicle your, deeds fhali boaft, 
 
 And loud Tt Deums fill the iViorning-Polt. 
 
 Dramatis Perfonae. 
 
 Fable, 
 
 Guiding, 
 
 Beveiiey, 
 
 Denier, 
 
 Tropitk, 
 
 Check, 
 
 Handy, 
 
 Lord Riot, 
 
 Sir Belter Skelter, 
 Colonel Rakifh, 
 Scanty, 
 
 Capias, 
 
 Snap, 
 
 Hazard, 
 
 Cafb, 
 
 Servant, 
 
 Mrs. Golding, 
 Lydia, 
 
 Mrs. Carlton, 
 
 Mrs. Flounce, 
 
 Mr. Bensle x Y. 
 
 Mr. Shcjter. 
 
 Mr. Lewis. 
 
 Mr. Law£s. 
 
 Mr. WOODWARD, 
 Mr. Quick. 
 
 Mr. Dyer. 
 
 Mr. Davis. 
 
 Mr. Fox. 
 
 Mr. Owenson. 
 Mr. Gardner. 
 Mr. KnIveton. 
 Mr. Thompson. 
 Mr. Cushing. 
 Mr. Hamilton. 
 Mr. Bat es. 
 
 Mrs. Green. 
 
 Mrs. Bulkley, 
 Mrs. Pitt. 
 
 Mrs. Hf.lmE. 
 
THE 
 
 MAN OF BUSINESS* 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 An apartment in Goldingb boufe . 
 
 Enter Fable and Mrs. Golding. 
 
 {She in a fancy-drefs , with a majk in her hand.) 
 
 Fable. /T Adam, madam, I tell you he is a 
 iVl coxcomb—an arrant coxcomb, Mrs. 
 Golding. 
 
 Mrs. Golding. He is a gentleman—thoroughly. 
 the gentleman, Mr. Fable. 
 
 Fab. Yes, a modern gentleman—a fine gentle¬ 
 man—a race of puppies more pernicious to this 
 country than a breed of wolves would have been. 
 —A mongrel puppy too; on a wrong fcent after 
 pleafure; in chace of the fafhion, but for ever at 
 fault; with vanity in view, and ridicule for a 
 whipper-in. 
 
 Mrs. G. Well, well, Mr. Fable, it does not fig- 
 ' nify talking. You know, you and I could never 
 agree on this matter. I was always for my kinf- 
 B ' man’s 
 
2 THE MAN OF BUSINESS, 
 man’s- keeping the very beft company > and, for 
 my part, 1 fee no great difference between him and 
 bis friends of quality— Nay, indeed, mongrel, as 
 you are pleated to call him, fir, the advantage is 
 rather on his tide : he has money without rank, 
 and nranv of them have rank without money. If 
 Beverley has great goings-out, he has great com- 
 ings-in too; while they keep fine houfes, flaming 
 equipages, and great tables out. of nothing at all. 
 
 f ab. For which very reafon, Mrs. Golding, he 
 is not upon even terms with them. What has a 
 isan of bufinefs -to do with men of plcafure i 
 Why is a young banker to live with young no¬ 
 blemen ? 
 
 Mrs. Gold. And why not, Mr. Fable ? Is not 
 the bufinefs of the houfe carried on at the polite 
 end of the town? Does not he live in.the very 
 centre of perfons of fafbioir? And has not he 
 conftant dealings with them?—Not fhut up in 
 Lombard-ftreet—within the found of Bow-bell, ot 
 in fight of the Monument—not cramming turtle 
 and venifon at the King’s-Arms, or the London- 
 - Tavern—but ballottcd into the Macaroni, and a 
 member of the Seavoir Yivrer 
 ■ Fob. So much the worfc—fo much the worfe,,Mrs. 
 Golding—bis father, who was the firm of tire houlfc, 
 etlabltfbed the credit of it by decency and fobriety : 
 but dying while Beverley w as very young, your 
 ’ husband, Mr. Golding, was received into the part- 
 nerfhip as a man of experience, capable of car¬ 
 rying on the bufinefs to more advantage.’ He, 
 yon know, is now ahfent on ncceffary bufinefs 
 abroad. In the mean time, I am left a kind of 
 ■ guardian 'to Beverley, and have, the fuperinrend- 
 ance of his affairs—and what account fliall I be 
 ' likely' to give of> them, .when inftead of making 
 ' money after the example off his father, he " is in¬ 
 tent on nothing but 'iendirg it ? Horles at New¬ 
 market 
 
THE MAN OF BUSINESS. 3 
 marftet, hounds at Bagfnot, a villa, a miftrefs, 
 play, and a round of diflipation among' hair- 
 brain’d fpendthrifts, wafting their conftitutions be¬ 
 fore they arrive at maturity, lpending their for¬ 
 tunes before they -come to them, granting annui¬ 
 ties to eat up theif elutes, or living upon the laie 
 of poft-obits and rcverfions 1—There, madam, 
 there’s a picture of a genteel young banker at the 
 weft-end -of tire town for you ; drawn from the 
 life, and coloured after nature ; how do you like 
 it, madam ? 
 
 Mrs. Geld. A frightful caricature, Mr. Fable 1 
 vour defcriptions aje juft the reverie of that fweet 
 flower of a man, the auctioneer over the way. 
 His fty ie is enchanting and delicate, elegant, as 
 the or moulu, or Derbylhire petrifications, he fets 
 to fale, and foft as the pencil of Guido, Raphael, 
 or Correggio—your pictures may be taken from 
 nature; but they are dark!—dark as the landfchapcs 
 of Pouffin, and wild, and horrible as the views of 
 Salvator Rofa. 
 
 Fab. Madam, madam, it is thefe affefted airs, 
 madam, -that pervert your underftanding, and 
 make you blind to .the danger of your kinftnan.— 
 He is in imminent danger of ruin, madam, which 
 will fall upon him, if fomething is not fpeediiy 
 done to prevent it. 
 
 Mrs. Gold. And what would you have me do, 
 Mr. Fable ? All I fay is, that good company is a 
 very good thing, and genteel connexions can never 
 do mv kinfman any milchief; and if I had been 
 •miftrefs, I never would have refted till I had got 
 him into parliament. 
 
 Fab. Into parliament!—into jail, madam. Is 
 not he at expence enough— 
 
 Mrs. Gold. Expence 1 Lord, lord ! This is a 
 point of occonomy, fir. Why he would fave above 
 double the charge of bringing him into the houfe 
 B 2 by 
 
i THE MAN OF BUSINESS, 
 
 by the mere poftage of letters.*—Sir Geoffry Kilt 
 derkiii got himielf elefted for no other purpofe.—- 
 My kint'man too would frank himfelf whole again, 
 —And then I am fure he would make an admi¬ 
 rable figure in a debate.—Oh, how it would have 
 delighted me to have fat among the ladies in the 
 gallery of the houfe—to have feen him upon his 
 feet, his whole perfon hanging over his right leg, 
 his right arm Twinging to and fro like a pen¬ 
 dulum, and his tongue running down like a 
 larum ! 
 
 Fab. So, fo! you, I fear, are too far gone for 
 wnolcfome counfel. Beverley, I hope is not quite 
 incorrigible, and fome good may be done upon 
 him. Good morrow rt> you, madam ! I have bu- 
 finefs; good day, madam. 
 
 Mrs. Gold. Good night, if you pleafe, fir, You 
 may be juft up, but I have not been to bed yet, 
 being (as you fee) but juft come from the Pantheon. 
 Tire mafquerade began to grow thin; but my kinf- 
 man, who was there, is not come home yet, and may 
 not return for fome time perhaps—fo, once more, 
 good night, good Air. Fable!' I’ll endeavour to re¬ 
 cruit my fpirits from the fatigue of the pleafures 
 of the night, and leave you to the bufinds of the 
 day. Your iervant, fir. [Exit, 
 
 Fable alone, ■ 
 
 Your fervant, madam!—A weak woman, incar 
 pable indeed of fwaying the mind of Beverley by 
 her advice, but ftill ferving to countenance his 
 follies by her example.—But now to the buunefs 
 ■of the day, as fhe lays !—A ferious day it wilhap. 
 pear to the young gentleman, I fancy—But it is 
 high time to make him ferious—I’ll juft allow him 
 8 ihort interval to fieep off his mafquerade,. and 
 then 
 
THE MAN OF BUSINESS, 
 then wake him from his dream of folly to a lenfe 
 of his true fituation. 
 
 Enter Check. 
 
 Fab, Good morrow, Check ! 
 
 Check. Good morrow to your honour!-The 
 
 fhop is juft opened and fprinkled. I am going to 
 the compting-houfe. 
 
 Fab. That’s right, Check. Regularity and 
 punctuality arc the life of bufmefs. 
 
 Check. The life and foul, fir. I have always 
 found them fc—always exaft myfelf I can anl'wer 
 —always precife to a fecorid—and as true to my 
 time as the. men that ftrike the quarters at St. 
 punftan’s. Ha! ha! 
 
 Fab. You’re merry. Check! 
 
 Check. Ah ! I wifti I' had caufe, fir. Another 
 great houfc in the city ftopt payment yefterday, 
 and a large fum fubferibed to prop the credit of 
 another. Sad times, Mr. Fable! 
 
 Fab. Sad times! fad men, honeft Check. Men 
 make the times. 1 
 
 Check. Very true, very true, fir. Ah, one need 
 not go far from home to know that, fir. In poor 
 old Mr. Beverley’s time, when wc carried on bufi- 
 •nefs in Threadneedle-ftreet, thofe were days, Mr, 
 Fable ! I wilh we were on the other fide of Tem¬ 
 ple-:..it again ! 
 
 Fab. l\o, no; you are right juft where you are, 
 friend. The two fides of Temple-bar have 
 changed hands, Check. The gay, fmart, airy 
 fparks, of the weft end of the town, have all taken 
 to bufinefs, and are turned Iherifts and aldermen ; 
 and the merchants, bankers, and tradefmen, are 
 your principal perfons of pleafure now-a-days. 
 
 Check. Ah, I am afraid fo. Here’s a houfc, 
 fprfooth! my old lady always entertaining com- 
 
6 THE MAN OF BUSINESS, 
 pany at home, and mv young mailer always 
 abroad; night turned into day, and day turned 
 into night! It was not fo in my old mafter’s time. 
 Never our or the regular channel; lure and mo¬ 
 derate profit; quiet, iober living : a plain joint 
 and a pudding on week days, and, perhr.r s, two 
 joints and two puddings on Sunday ! 
 
 Fab. Nay, nay, don’t be melancholy, Check. 
 You may live to fee two puddings on table again, 
 perhaps. 
 
 Check. We have no hopes but in you, Mr. Fa¬ 
 ble ; no hope but in you, fir! Every thing would 
 go to wTeck and ruin, if it was not for you, fir. 
 
 Fab. Come, come; cheer up, honeft Check! 
 your young mailer will take up fhortly. He has 
 a good heart, and a good undemanding. 
 
 Check. I W'iih he would make lefs ufe of his 
 heart, and more of his underilanding, fir. He is 
 as generous as a prinoe, and he thinks all his ac¬ 
 quaintance as honeft and generous as himfelf. Let 
 him mind his friend, Mr. Denier, fir. There’s a 
 young man for you ! merry and wife, I warrant 
 him ! He knows that a drilling is a lcrious thing; 
 that a penny faved is a penny got ; and two and 
 two make lour, fir. 
 
 Fab. Beverlev will find it out at laft, Check.— 
 Have you prepared the books and papers as I di¬ 
 rected. you ? 
 
 Check. I have, fir. 
 
 Fab . Very well. Let them be ready for in- 
 fpection this very morning; and tell Mr. Beverley 
 I am gone to the Bank; but defire he would not 
 be out of the way at my return, as I have fonre- 
 thing of confequcnce to lay to him. Good mor¬ 
 row, Check 1 
 
 • ■ Check. Good morrow to your honour! I ihall 
 be fure to let Mr. Beverley know, fir. 
 
 [Exit. Fable. 
 Oh, 
 
THE MAN OF BUSINESS. 7 
 Oh, hcre-eomes his gentleman, as they call him* 
 I with there was not luch a gentleman within the 
 hills of mortality. 
 
 Enter Handy. 
 
 Good morrow to you Mr. Handy 1 Good mor¬ 
 row ! 
 
 Handy '. What! my old Rule of Three! are you 
 there ? good morrow to you ! 
 
 Check. Mr. Beverley is nor up yet, I fuppofe. 
 
 Handy. Then you fupjxrfe wrong. Old Thread- 
 needle ! He is up, I aflure you. 
 
 Check. Indeed! why he is more early than' or¬ 
 dinary, Mr. Handy. 
 
 Handy. Much later than ordinary, mailer Check. 
 He has not been to bed yet. 
 
 Check. Mercy on me ! pad eight in the mom- ’ 
 ing, and not gone to bed yet ? 
 
 Handy. No, he’s not come home from the maf- 
 querndc. 
 
 • Check. The mafquerade 1 Oh, now you have 
 accounted for it. 
 
 Handy. Yes, I had fome thoughts of being at 
 the Pantheon tnvfclf, but- 
 
 Check. What! at the fixpenny Pantheon at 
 lilington, Mr. Handy ? 
 
 Handy. Sixpenny Pantheon! S’death what d’ve 
 mean, fir ? do you take me for a tittle (hopkeeping 
 mechanic, or one of your dapper city clerks, that 
 draws his pen from under his ear in the evening, 
 to go and drink tea at Bagtvigge Wells or Dob- 
 ney’s Bowling Green ? No, fir; let me tell you I 
 frequent no diverfions but thole of perfons of qua¬ 
 lity. Plays now and then, operas twice a week, 
 
 ' and ntafquerades whenever there are any.—A lady 
 of my particular acquaintance—of the firft falhion 
 I allure you, old gentleman,—had provided' 1 me a 
 ticket, and a domino, with a fmart hat and fca- 
 
8 THE MAN OF BUSINESS, 
 tber, and diamond button and loop to it.—But as the 
 devil would have it, my lord du— ‘Zouns, what was I 
 laving?—Her hulband, I fay, happening to come 
 in at an unfortunate moment, law the drefs lying 
 in her apartment. My lad)-—a uevilifh clever wo¬ 
 man upon my foul—turned it of T with a laugh, and 
 told him ilie had provided them on purpole for 
 him, in order to lurprife him with a piece of con¬ 
 jugal gallantry. So away they went to the Pan¬ 
 theon together, and I was obliged to amulc my- 
 felt with another woman of quality who kept 
 houfe all the evening, to confole myfelf for my 
 difappointment, 
 
 Check. You imagine I have a large portion of 
 faith, I believe, Mr. Handy. 
 
 Handy. Faith !—Why have I offered to borrow 
 any money of you, vgu old multiplication-table ? 
 Eh ! 
 
 Check. You have not taken that liberty with me, 
 becaufe you knew I would lend you none: but 
 von are rather too familiar with your betters me* 
 thinks. 
 
 Handy. They arc familiar with us, and encourage 
 familiarities on our fide.—Nay, if vou would fol¬ 
 low my advice, I would engage to make a fortune 
 c\\-n for you, old Methufalem ! 
 
 Check. For me, Mr. Handy ! 
 
 Handy . Av, for you, old bov! What do you 
 think now of making love to Mrs. Golding ? Her 
 hufband’s abroad, you know. Intrigues are the 
 mode, and fhe loves to be in the fafhicn-.—Devil 
 take me, if I don’t think fhe and you would make 
 an excellent tets-a-tete —Shalum and Hilpa! Eh, 
 my old antediluvian. 
 
 Check. A truce with your wit, good Mr. Handy; 
 and pleafe to let your mailer know that Mr, Fable 
 defirss to fee him on foms particular bufmefs as 
 fcon 
 
THE MAN OF BUSINESS. 9. 
 foon as be is ftirring,—which, perhaps, may be 
 about dinner-time. 
 
 Handy. Wlut ! do you pretend to joke too ? 
 Pounds, findings, and pence—you had beft flick to 
 that, ok! gentleman. 
 
 Check. They won’t flick to you long, I am afraid, 
 voting gentleman. Ha, ha ! 
 
 Handy. Again! You are trying to copy after old 
 mailer Fable, I warrant you.-—A fly, dry, queer 
 old buck, that Mr. Fable! He don’t much approve 
 of our proceedings, I believe. The people call my 
 matter the Macaroni Banker, he fays. (Laugh heard) 
 
 -Gadfo ! yonder my matter comes, faith- 
 
 and along with him his bofom friend, Mr. Denier 
 —a fna-ke in his bofom too, if'I am not miftaken. 
 
 I never could endure that fhrevvd fpark iince I heard 
 him upon the chapter of vails—which he never 
 gives to other people’s fervants't but, for fear of 
 raifing the wages at home, fuffers them to be taken 
 by his own. A young curmudgeon! worfe than a 
 liquorifli old dotard, if poflible.—What fay you, 
 Grandfire ?— (Laugh again) —But, fulfil! they are 
 here.—Now you may deliver your errand to him 
 yourlelf, old gentleman. 
 
 (Check and Handy retire a little. 
 
 Enter Beverley and Denier. (Beverley in a iemin :, 
 Denier alfo in a mafquerade-drefs.) 
 
 Btv. Support a charadter at mafqueradc! Ab- 
 furd and ridiculous!—and a vulgar idea too, that 
 never entered the head of a gentleman. 
 
 Denier. Oh, my habit gave me no trouble of 
 that fort—yet 1 did not wear it from choice, but 
 from convenience. One of the managers of Co¬ 
 ven-Garden theatre—for there are about five and 
 fortv of them, vou know—lent me the dtcls—and. 
 I don’t fee why I fliould be expected to fupport a ' 
 C cha- 
 
i? TKE - MAN OF BUSINESS, 
 character in it any more than thole who uftialiy 
 wear it.—Eh, Beverlcv ' 
 
 No,-to be lure. They who lay the lofted 
 tilings, and fucceed molt with the women, enter 
 into the fj-iric and genius of the place the mod 
 happily. Gallantrv and intrigue, not wit and hu¬ 
 mour,. are the objects of a maiquerade. 
 
 . p/rJer. I beg -your pardon, Beverley. I know 
 more,than one or two profeSed jokers, that rehearfe 
 their parts-for a fortnight b'efore-hand, and write 
 dotvn'2ll the good things they fhall fay ; but, as 
 ill luck.wHl. have it, for want of courage and op¬ 
 portunity, never utter one of them ; and yet, re- 
 jolying they fhall nor be loft to the world, lend 
 them, ready cut and dry, to the news-papers, as 
 having been, their extempore (allies and maiquerade 
 plealantri.es. 
 
 Biv. Oh, I know r the little haberdalhers of 
 fmall wit; I know them, Denier, and thank you for 
 your deferiprion of them.—But who {he deuce was 
 that very elegant-looking woman that lord Robert 
 Sprightly liuck fo dole to for molt part of the 
 evening: I have a ftrong notion it was lady Sarah 
 Brilliant—very like her figure; or Harriot Freelcve 
 —but her—Ike’s common, you know—her he 
 would not have followed fo warmlv.—Oh, Check, 
 are you there : —Handy too - (Check and Handy 
 cotsi ferwerd) Have you fet my night-things in 
 my bed-chamber r 
 Handy. They are all ready, fir. 
 if?. Did you prelent fir John Squanderfieid’s 
 notes for acceptance. Check - 
 Chid. I did, fir. 
 
 . Brxr'. Any cards. Handy -—And were they-- 
 good bills. Check ? 
 
 Haney. The cards, tickets, and mdTages lie en¬ 
 join dreffing-table, fir. 
 
THE MAN OF BUSINESS, h 
 Bev. Very well.—And were fir John’s notes 
 duly accepted, Check ? '[/’ 
 
 Check. They ought to have been duly proiefted, 
 fir.—Not good bills—toot worth a farthing, fir. I 
 have not given him credit for them.” L * ~' r - . 
 
 Bev. Well, let hirii havc^duerioticep d*ye hear, 
 Check?—Arid do you call at'the Sfai/bif, and'ibt 
 them know that I fhall dine/' there ro-dav;'$ve 
 hear, Handy r-^And do you come to ms with tM 
 itate of fir John’s account, as foon as Parrfupi ~jye 
 hear, Check ? " ~ : 
 
 Check. The account is ready, firf b’ut Mr; Fable 
 defires to fpeak with you aV'ibonas you'are up, fir. t 
 He is gone into the city, budwill return before you 
 are ftirring, and has particular bufinefs. 
 
 Bev. I (fell be ready to attend him.—Let me 
 be called about one, d’ye hear, Handy ?— I nave 
 noth ing 'further to fay to you at prefenr. Check. 
 
 'Check -Mighty well, fir. 
 
 - r -Bevl'r HandrJ wait in mv chamber. ■ 
 
 - 7 licir&\\ ’<1 final 1, fir. 
 
 [Exeunt Check and Handy fevcrczlfy. 
 
 Manent Beverley and Denier. 
 
 Bev. You’ll dine-with us at the Sfavoir, De¬ 
 nier?' 
 
 Denier. That’s impoffible. Lady Quaver, who 
 fubfcribes to the opera,- has lent her box to Mrs. 
 Carlton and Lvdia this evening, and T have pro- 
 mifed to attend them ; lb we mult make •£■ fhbr: 
 early dinner at home. You will hardly- rite from 
 table before theyfe/r. ■' - y.-'.'- 
 
 Bev Time enough to fee the HeitJel walk-over 
 the courfe, perhaps: but the pfcct-s of publitfsSi- 
 veriion do keep molt diforderly hours'to'b^toSrcy; 
 As to the.piay-houfes, I fcarce ever attempt yotp&p 
 Into them. There is no getting a mouthful "of. 
 tragedy or comedy without baulking one’s appetite 
 C 2 for 
 
ii THE MAN OF BUSINESS, 
 for every thing elfe. But Lydia is fond of plays 
 too ; and the little prude is lb eager and pun&ual, 
 flic is as fure to be at the drawing up of the curtain 
 as if flie went to keep places. 
 
 Denier. Come, come, after all, you are very 
 partial to my ward, Beverley. She is levcre upon 
 vour gaiety, and you rally her prudery. You both 
 think it worth while to tind fault with each other; 
 .and that’s a dreadful fvmptom, Beverley. 
 
 Bev. No, no; not lb far gone as that neither. 
 —The girl has fome good natural qualities; but 
 flic has not mixed with the world enough.—She is 
 like one of our Englifli coaches—made of good 
 fluff', and not ill faihion’d—but wants the high 
 Paris varnilh, Denier. 
 
 Denier. I have a good mind to acquaint her with 
 your companion.—She’ll varnifh you till you ap¬ 
 pear like lord Rufty’s pictures—not much the 
 
 better for it.-But, apropos to your fimile,— 
 
 after your coach has let you down to dinner in St. 
 James’s Street, can veu lend it to carry us to the 
 opera ? 
 
 Bt-v. To be fure. They are not put up vet. 
 I’ll give orders about it immediately. 
 
 Denier. Stay ! Suppofe it takes me home then ; 
 and I’ll tell them your direction.—I fhall hardly 
 get a chair at this time in the morning. 
 
 Bev. Be it lb. Good night to you.—But, 
 Denier 1 
 
 Denier. Well. 
 
 Bev. There is to be another mafqueradc next 
 week, at the Hav market. Will you go r 
 • Dnier. No—hang it! next week is too loon for 
 it.—So much of it makes it grow nauleous. 
 
 Bev. It will be a genteel thing. 
 
 Denier. A genteel mafqueradc !—Oh, that’s the 
 devil, Beverlev. The company at a mafqueradc 
 fhouid be almofl as various as the charaftcrs they 
 repvc. 
 
THE MAN OF BUSINESS. n 
 reprefent.—CountelFes and fempltrefies, lords, al¬ 
 dermen, blacklegs, and Oxonians.—Make your 
 mafquerade too genteel, and it mult be very dull, 
 Beverlev. 
 
 Bev. All the fine women in town will be 
 there. It is to be given by the club at Arthur’s. 
 I can lupply you with tickets. 
 
 Denier. Can you ?—Well then—come, for once 
 I will go with vou. 
 
 Bev. Now, if you could prevail on Lydia to 
 go too- 
 
 Denier. No ; Ihe won’t take the Paris varnifii, 
 Beverlev. 
 
 Rev. I am lorry for it. Then there’s no hopes 
 of her. 
 
 Diflier. Poor Beverely ! Adieu ! 
 
 Bev. Poor Lvdia, I fay. I’ll go to bed and 
 dream of he: reformation. Good night to vou. 
 
 ; Exeunt fever 
 
 ACT 
 
14 THE MAN OF BUSIN ESS. 
 
 
 ACT 11 
 
 Beyedey’j drejjing-room. Awriling-dejk and drejfing - 
 . .'~.Y table, chairs, &c. 
 
 'Bell rings two or three times violently; at length entei 
 Handy in a morning drefs, rubbing his eyes. ' 
 
 v ■ ’ '* snoi? 
 
 Handy. ING, ring, ring! The deviFs in Miw 
 j£v Beverley to-day, I think. He defirei 
 to be waked about one or two, and is ready to pull 
 the bells out of the pullies between eleven and 
 twelve, ( Rings) Again! I’ll be with you in a mo¬ 
 ment, fir.— (Yawns)—* If he had been at deep 
 play Iaft nighr, I fhould have thought his lolTesf 
 had difturbed him—or if he had been drinking* 
 that his reft was fpoil’d with ficknefs and head-ache. 
 —But to come home fober, and in good humour* 
 and then drag one out of bed like f fchool-boy or 
 an apprentice— (Rings again) Well, well, I am - 
 coming—Stay till I can get to you* fir. (Going.) 
 Not'he, faith—-here he is—walking in his deep for 
 aught I know—for I am lure, I am hardly awake ,f 
 yet. (Yawning.) Y ' 
 
 Enter Beverley. . __ f0 
 
 Bev. Oh, you are here I fee. I thought you 
 were dead,-Handy. . ..T„ 
 
 Handy. Dead afieep, fir. I had hardly g6t Wa¥m : ‘ ; 
 in bed, in my firft doze, fir. / v ’(Yawning. 
 
 Bev. 
 
THE. MAN_OF BUSINESS. 1$ 
 
 Rev, Come, come, my breakfaft. I have no 
 time for dozing and dreaming. To keep my en¬ 
 gagements at night, I mutt difpatch a good deal of 
 butj 3 ^f£d L i'jiJt^’Tinorning. (Sits.) Reach me that 
 bundle of papers. (Handy brings them from the dejk ) 
 
 I muu anf.vcr thefe letters.r-Now chocolate, 
 
 Handy; chocolate immediately. 
 
 Handy ( aftde). W hew! f Exit yawning. 
 
 Rev. (untying the bundle). Say what they will 
 of your dull tulows and drudges, men of fpirit arc 
 your onlv perfons of difpatch—diligent in their bu- 
 finds, tor the lake of getting rid of it—not working 
 flowly, grub, grub, like a mole, but draining to 
 
 the goal like a racer.-Let me fee, what have 
 
 here? (Looking at one of the letters.) Oh, a letter 
 from Mr. Golding’s old Quaker friend and corre- 
 fpondent Ephraim Quiet of Brillol. 
 
 Re-enter Handy. 
 
 Handy. The chocolate, fir. 
 
 Rev.' Verv well.—Set it down, Handv—and 
 tell Check to come to me with the account I fpoke 
 to him about, when I came home'laii night. 
 
 Handy. He’s here already, fir, and Mr. Fable 
 tooi 1 
 
 Ettler'f able, attended by Check, with books and 
 •papers. 
 
 Bev. ( rifmg.) Mr. Fable, your very humble 
 fervant. 
 
 Fable. Oh, your fervant, your fervant.-Are 
 
 you fure you have all the books and papers with 
 you, Check ? 
 
 Check. Very fure, fir. 
 
 Fable. And have \ ou the inftrument from my 
 attorney ? 
 
 Check. It is here, fir. 
 
16 THE MAN OF BUSINESS. 
 
 Fable. And the balances of the feveral accounts 
 are all right and exact ? 
 
 Check. To the fixteenth of a farthing, fir; 
 
 I have proved them again and again, fir. 
 
 Fable. Very well. Lay them on the table then. 
 
 I Ihail be with you prefently in the compting- 
 houfe. 
 
 Cb:d. You will befure to find me there, fir. 
 
 jf [Lays down looks, &c. and exit , 
 
 Fable. And now indulge me with a word or tw» 
 in private, Mr. Beverley. 
 
 Bev. Pray be feated, fir-Handy, wait in 
 
 the antichatnber. 
 
 Handy. I fhall, fir, [Exit. 
 
 Mamnt Fable andBzxetxh)’, fitting 
 
 Fable (after a jhorl paufe). I am afraid, I have 
 broken in upon you rather abruptly, Mr. Beverley. 
 
 Bev. Not at all, fir. 
 
 Fable. My bufinefs is preffing, and I nmft be as 
 abrupt in difclofing it. 
 
 Bev. Pray, what is it, fir ? 
 
 Fable. I fhould wi(h to adminifter comfort, ra¬ 
 ther than to diftrefs or furprife you; but there is 
 no time for delicacies or room for palliation. 
 
 Bev. You amaze me. What do you mean, 
 fir ? 
 
 Fable. Don’t be too much alarmed neither; 
 don’t let it totally difeourage you. You are young, 
 you know- 
 
 Bev. Relieve me from fufpence, I befeech you,* 
 fir. . ,i 
 
 Fable. Nay, I can’t fay it is downright ryin 
 neither. 
 
 Bev. Ruin, Mr, Fable! 
 
 Fable. No; not abfolntely. Your credit and 
 charafter may be both a little lhaken by it at firft, 
 indeed ; bur, with induftrv, thank heaven, you 
 will 
 
THE MAN OF BUSINESS. 17 
 will have time and opportunity to re-cftablilh 
 them. 
 
 Bev. You keep me on the rack, let me com¬ 
 prehend you. Be plain, fir ! 
 
 Fab. In a word then — what do you think of the 
 failure of the houfe ? 
 
 Bev. Sir! 
 
 Fab. Stopping payment? 
 
 Bev. Impoffible ! 
 
 Fab. Ten days ago I was of your opinion.— 
 But thole papers, Mr. Beverley, among which are 
 copies of the laft letters from Mr. Golding, will 
 convince you that the danger is imminent. 
 
 Bev. Why—Why was not I more early apprifed 
 of this, Mr. Fable ? 
 
 Fab. You have a great deal on your hands, you 
 know ; and I did not care to interrupt your amufe- 
 ments, or damp your vivacity, til! I had exa¬ 
 mined and fettled the Hate of your affairs. I was 
 in hopes, indeed, matters had not been fodefpe- 
 rate.—But one misfortune is always accompanied 
 by another, and another followed by more.—The 
 inlurance not being done on the Speedwell and 
 Thetis, owing to the mifcarriage of Mr. Golding’s 
 letters from Bengal, the wreck of both thole In- 
 diamen, as well as Mr. Golding’s other Ioffes in 
 India; the failure of the houles at Amfterdam; 
 the late run upon our own; and the bills we have 
 accepted, being fo foon payable—are unlucky 
 circumftances, all concurring to perplex and cm- 
 barrafs us. 
 
 Bev. And what—what’s'to be done then, Mr*. 
 Fable? 
 
 Fab. Oh, don’t be too uneafy ! the Ihock is ra¬ 
 ther violent and fudden, to be fure; but I hope to 
 extricate you with honour and reputation. 
 
 Bev. You revive me—By what means, fir ? 
 
 D Fab. 
 
IS THE MAN OF BUSINESS. 
 
 Fak Wljen you have look’d into the vouchers 
 which Check has left with you, you will fee the 
 neceffity of executing this inftrument, conftituting 
 me your foie truftcc and creditor; I having under¬ 
 taken to fatisfy every other, claim and demand upon' 
 the houle.—All that concerns me is, that in order 
 to come handfomely through this bufinefs, and to' 
 appear in earned: to the world,, we mud exadl fome 
 co-operation on your part, fome little facrifices 
 from you, Mr. Beverly.. 
 
 Bevi Sacrifices- from me ! whaf facrifices, Mr. 
 Fable ? 
 
 Fab. Not that I' think they will affeft you much' 
 neither. I was happy, to be fure, to fee you keep¬ 
 ing the very belt company, making a figure on 
 the turf, regularly attending the hunt, and enter¬ 
 taining handfomely both here, and at Wimble¬ 
 don.—But people in bufinefs are liable to thefe 
 accidents—and pleslure, you know,.mult give way 
 when prefling exigencies require it. Put your 
 horles to lale, part with your hounds, fell your 
 villa—and as a narrower plan of living, a lydem 
 of ccconomv, will render all the plate and prefent 
 furniture unneceflary, I think it will be advifeable 
 to let this heufc to .'. A fmallcrwill ferve to carry- 
 on the bufinefs. 
 
 Bei Sl ) orfes and hounds i part with my 
 houfes! difpofe of my plate, Mr. Fable ! furely 
 this is being racher too precipitate. It fhould be 
 very maturely confidercd, whether we cannot fmo- 
 ther thefe evils, without letting them burflrmto a 
 flame immediately. 
 
 Fab. That has been thoroughly confidered, de¬ 
 pend upor.’t—'nay, I have already convened the 
 capital creditors, and convinced them of the cer¬ 
 tainty of their demands being fatisfied, on the 
 plan I have propofed to you. They are perfuaded 
 that the houle wili ultimately prove good and fuf- 
 ficient, 
 
THE MAN OF BUSINESS. 19 
 ficient, and have engaged to fiipport it. Some few 
 indeed feemed to doubt your concurrence and per- 
 feverance; but I (who think I know you better) 
 undertook to anfwer for both. The truth is, you 
 have no alternative.—The affair is publick by'this 
 time, and the eyes of the whole world are upon 
 you—But courage, Beverly! you have youth, as I 
 told you, and honour, and abilities. They are 
 now put to the teft, and I have no fear of your 
 conduft. When you have finifhed your breakfaft, 
 run your eye over the account, read Mr. Golding’s 
 laft letters, examine the deed of trull, and confider 
 what I have faid to you. Your fervant! Good 
 day to you! Your fervant! [Exit. 
 
 Beverley alone. 
 
 What is all this?—Veffels uninfured 1 Failure of 
 correfpondents i Letters from Mr. Golding! Loffes 
 in India !—Sure our fituation cannot be fo bad as 
 he has reprefented it.—I,et me look into thele 
 writings! Let me examine this account!—Handy ! 
 — (fitting) The book of fate could fcarcely be 
 more dreadful to me than this mafs of papers. 
 
 Enter Handy. 
 
 Bandy. Sir! 
 
 Bev. What do you do here, rafcal! I am bufy. 
 How dare you interrupt me ? 
 
 Handy. 1 thought you had called, fir. 
 
 Bev. Get out of the room, lirrah, or I’ll— 
 
 Handy. I beg your pardon, fir. I am gone* fir 
 ,—What the deuce is the matter with him this 
 morning? [Exit. 
 
 Beverley alone. 
 
 What an unfeeling animal is a mere perfon of bu- 
 finefs! Mr. Fable has iiunned me : I am thunder, 
 ftruck: and yet there was a lerenity in his manner, 
 D 2 a rna. 
 
So THE MAN OF BUSINESS, 
 a malicious calm in his countenance, that cut me 
 to the foul—I am diltracted—I can neither read, 
 nor write, nor think.—Handy ! Where are you, 
 rafeal ? ( Enter Handy) Why did not you take 
 thefe things away, as I ordered you ? 
 
 Handy. I thought you had not done breakfaft, 
 fir.—A card from fir Charles Eafy, fir. [giving it. 
 Bsv. Give me no cards, rafeal! 
 
 [throwing it,away. 
 
 Handy. The man waits for an anfiver, fir. 
 
 Bev.l can fend no anfwer. I’m ill, I’m bufy. 
 I’m——I’ll fend an anfwer by and by—.I’ll fend an 
 anfwer by and by. 
 
 Handy. Very well. I’ll let him know, fir. 
 
 • Exit.] 
 
 Beverley alone. 
 
 Let me fee! let me colled my thoughts a little.! 
 Suppofe I advile with Denier 1 fuppofe— 
 
 Enter Handy. • 
 
 Handy. A letter, fir!—-requires no anfwer they 
 fay, [Exit, 
 
 Beverley alone. 
 
 From Lucy 1 I know her hand. ( looking at the fit- 
 ferfiription). I mull loo.k into it; but what poor 
 ■fpirits have I at prefent to perufe letters of gaiety! 
 Her tendernefs too— {opens and reads) What’-s 
 this ? . 
 
 “ Sir Harry Flutter has heard of your misfor- 
 cc tunes, and convinced me that I fhould be a bur.- 
 then to you. He has offered to be my friend, 
 “ fo adieu, Beverley ! 
 
 “ Your’s Lucy,” . 
 
 Confufion!—--the bufinefs is publick indeed then—- 
 But fo foon to defert me!—To he the call lover 
 of 
 
THE MAN OF BUSINESS. 21 
 of a cad miftrefs to half the town ? But let her 
 go ! let her go ! An ungrateful jade ! My friends 
 will execrate her. All my numerous acquaintance 
 will ikfpile her. She’ll be the feoff, the lcorn of— 
 
 Enter Lord Riot, Sir Helter Skelter, Col. Rakifh, 
 and Scanty. 
 
 Lord Riot. Beverley !—why what the devil is 
 all this r the whole town is talking of you. Is 
 there any truth in this dory? You are undone, 
 they lay. 
 
 Bev. No : not undone, my lord ! 
 
 Col. Rak. The St. James’s Coffee-houfe is full 
 of it, and Betty talks of nothing elfe. 
 
 B:v. Damnation ! 
 
 Sir Helt. I was offered ten to one at the Cocoa- 
 Tree that you and all your partners would be in 
 the Gazette next Saturday. Shall I take the odds, 
 Beverley ? 
 
 Bev. The houfe has not dopt payment, fir!— 
 Confufion ! 
 
 Scanty. No, no, not fo bad as that-a little 
 
 cralh, indeed—but I faid the houfe would not dop 
 payment. I was always ycur friend, Mr. Beverley. 
 
 Bev. I am obliged to you, fir.—Vexation ! 
 
 Co!. Rak. They fay, old Golding has made a 
 fad hand of it in India. An old blockhead! 
 What did he meddle for ? why you could have 
 ruined yourfelf fad enough without his affidancc. 
 
 --Poor little Lucy top! file’ll be on the pavee- 
 
 again. I have half a mind to take compaffion on 
 her mvfclf.—But file’s fo curled fond of Beverley, 
 there would be no dependence on her. 
 
 Lord Riot. Well, but Beverley ! Your place at 
 Wimbledon is to be put up at at auttion, it feems. 
 
 ■-Agoing, a going, a going!—So vre are to 
 
 have no dinner there next Sunday, I fuppofe. 
 
 Bev. No, r ; o, no, no,—mv lord. Dilfrnftion 1 
 Sir licit. 
 
S2 THE MAN OF BUSINESS. 
 
 Sir licit. As you’ll part with that fet of bay po¬ 
 nies, and the Phaeton, I fuppofe, I wifli you’d 
 give me the refufal. You fhould think of your 
 friends, Beverley. 
 
 Bev. Another time! another time, fir. 
 
 Lord Rid. Ay, I know we interrupt him. He 
 is in the mid it of all his writings and accounts, you 
 fee. I frail be glad to fee you, when you have 
 leifurc. Good day to you, Beverley ! ' ‘ 
 
 « f S. i Adicu! Bevcrlc) ' ! 
 
 [Exeunt Lord Riot, Sir Helt. and Col. Rak, 
 Matunt Scanty and Beverley. 
 
 Scanty. See what a fet of wafhy-minded fellows 
 thefe are now'!—It is well you are rid of them. 
 Did not I always warn you to be cautious of your 
 company ? 
 
 Bev. I thank you for your advice, but it diftreffes 
 me at prefent, fir. 
 
 Scanty. Well, well, I’ll fay no more then—I 
 am glad to find matters not fo bad as they have 
 been reported. You’ll keep your head above water 
 yet, I hope.—I juft ftaid to mention the affair of 
 the tw enty pounds you promifed me the laft time 
 I faw you. 
 
 Bev. This is not a time for affairs of that fort, 
 fir. 
 
 Scanty. Well, well—I would not have mentioned 
 it—but that laft match at billiards was not quite 
 fettled, you know. 
 
 Bev. There, fir—there’s a bank-note of the 
 value.—Now' leave me, I befeech you, fir. 
 
 Scanty. Well, well,—I fee yon are bufy, and I 
 will leave you—but for the future remember my 
 cc-unfcl—(lick to my advice—always be cautious 
 in the choice of your company, Beverley! [Exit. 
 
 Beverley 
 
THE MAN OF BUSINESS. 2? 
 
 Beverley alone . 
 
 So, fo! fo! fo!—This is the world, as they call 
 it—A pack of hollow friends, and defpieable ac¬ 
 quaintance ! How weak have I been, to give my 
 heart to thefe wretches, who have fouls incapable of 
 mutual attachment!—Callous to diftrefs, and dead 
 to the feelings of humanity !—How I long to ice 
 Denier! He is a true friend—frugal without ava¬ 
 rice, and chearful without diflipation. He would 
 both advife and afhft me.—tie would pr-e- 
 fently— 
 
 Enter Denier. 
 
 Ha, Denier! I was this moment wifhing for you.- 
 You.have heard, I fuppofe— 
 
 Ben. I have; I have, Beverley; and rantoyoit 
 immediately—‘though I- had particular bufmefs in 
 the city too this- morning—but a friend has pro- 
 inifed to tranfadt it for me. How are you, Be¬ 
 verley ?’ 
 
 Bev. What a blow, my friend! from whom had 
 you the firft news of it ? 
 
 Ben. From Mr. Fable himfelf. He came to me’ 
 on my own affairs, as well as about a large remit¬ 
 tance which he has juft received on account of 
 Lydia. 
 
 Bev. Lydia !—Oh. Denier!—-Lydia ! (Jigbing) 
 —a large remittance did you fay ? 
 
 Ben.. Yes, from her friends-in India, who con- 
 ligned her to our familv.- A very confiderable re¬ 
 mittance, indeed—But Mr.-Fable is made truftee,. 
 I find—‘They treat her as the court of Chancery 
 does a lunatick.. We are committees of her per- 
 fon, and Mr. Fable committee of the eftate. 
 
 Bev. Excuie me, Denier; but the very fhadow 
 of mirth is at prelent unfealbr.able. I am glad, 
 however, that Lydia is likely to be fo amply pro¬ 
 vided for. (Sighing.) 
 
 Ben. 
 
24 the man of business.. 
 
 Ben. So, am I: and I am glad too that you 
 have always profefied fo total an indifference about 
 her; as a difappointment from any reverfe of for¬ 
 tune, in cafe you had fixed your affeftions on her, 
 would have been an additional mortification.— 
 But Beverly! 
 
 Lev. My friend! 
 
 Ben. You are convinced, I believe, of the truth 
 of my regard for you. 
 
 Bev. I never doubted it. 
 
 Den. That I have the m'oft affectionate friend- 
 fhip for you. 
 
 Bev. I am fure of it. 
 
 Den. You don’t imagine me capable of propos¬ 
 ing any thing that might be difagreeable to you ? 
 
 Bev. The laft man on earth I Should fufpedt 
 of it. 
 
 Ben. I think too, on your part, Beverley, tlidt 
 you would not, from a mere point of delicaty, op- 
 pole or repine at my happinefs, if it did not inter¬ 
 fere with your own. 
 
 Bev. No—to be lure I fhould not.—But What 
 is all this ? Explain. 
 
 Ben. You muff know then, Beverley, that I 
 began very earlv to be captivated with Lydia. 
 
 Bev. Eh! 
 
 Den. But fancying you entertained a partiality 
 for her, I Smothered my inclination out of friend- 
 ihip for you. But as you meant only Superficial 
 gallantry, I now vvifli to make her fcrious pro- 
 pofals. 
 
 Bev. Propofals to Lydia ? 
 
 Ben. Yes, propofals of marriage; and indeed 
 it feems almoft to have been the wilh of her friends 
 to biing about fuch an alliance by placing her in 
 our .family.' 
 
 Bev. Thai’s true—that did not occur to me at 
 firfi, I confcls—fhe too, I fnppofc, has given you 
 home 
 
THE MAN OF BUSINESS. 25 
 
 fome hopes.—I wifh you happy—I wifh you—I 
 wilh you a great deal of happinels, Mr. Denier, 
 (i difordered .) 
 
 Den. Thank you, my dear friend, thank you! 
 ■—But come, come, Beverley! Mr. Fable’s news 
 has quite dilheartened you. We mull not lee you 
 too much call down, neither. This is but a cloud. 
 You will break out again with double fplendor 
 prefently.—Can I be of any fervice to you ? Shall 
 I look into your papers—and examine your ac¬ 
 counts ? 
 
 Bev. Not at prefent, I am obliged to you—not 
 at prefent, Mr. Denier. 
 
 Den. Oh, I had forgot. All my money is 
 locked up: but if you Ihould want a purchafer 
 for the Beverley eftate, on that occafion, I dare 
 fay, my friends would fupply me. You may al¬ 
 ways command me, you know. 
 
 Bev. I know it. I am obliged to you. 
 
 Den. Let me fee ! ( 'looking at his watch ) it is not 
 fo late as I thought it was—that Solomon is a 
 puzzling, ftupid, old fellow—I had better go up 
 to the Alley, and look after the bufinefs myfelf, I 
 believe—unlefs I could be of any ufe to you by 
 flaying here, Beverley. 
 
 Beit; Not in the leaft. I beg I mayn’t hinder 
 you. 
 
 Den. Good day tq you then! I can turn an 
 eighth i dare fay this mornings Good day, Be¬ 
 verley ! (Exit. 
 
 Beverley alonet 
 
 Now I am completely miferable. Fool, ideot, 
 that I have been f to trifle with a delicate female 
 heart—to trifle with . mV own!—Oh, Lydia !. I 
 am now, for the firfl time, thoroughly fenfible of 
 E my 
 
46 THE MAN O’F BUSINESS, 
 my affeftion- for you; and now to difcover it, only 
 to add t< 5 -my wretchednefs! Diltraftion !—Denier 
 too leems to wear a different afpeft—at lead my 
 imagination 1 , jaundiced by my misfortunes, paints 
 him of another colour_Bur Lydia! after the im¬ 
 
 pertinence of my former behaviour,, how defpicable 
 mult I appear to her!' What a: humiliating didance 
 has fortune now thrown between us! Mrs. Gold¬ 
 ing here ! New torture ! Ha!' Lydia with her f 
 Oh rrty heart!’ How fhall I look up to her! 
 
 Enter Mrs. Golding {in a morning dijhabille.) 
 
 Ms. Gold. Nay, come in, child ! pray come 
 in ! I mud fpeak to poor Beverley. Come in Mifs- 
 Lydia, I beg of you (Beverley rims-to-the door and 
 introduces- Lydia)—Ay r take care of her, kinf- 
 man! She is a delicate foul, and as much fhocked’ 
 as if lire were your filter.—But, for heaven’s fake, 
 child, what is this rigmarole dory that' Mr. Fable 
 has diftracled us about ?’ 
 
 Bev. A very ferious affair indeed, madam* 
 
 Mrs. Geld. Serious ! He’s- always ferious, I 
 think—preaching, preaching,, for ever preaching 
 like lady Tott’nam, that builds all the Methodiffc 
 chapels.—But it’s a itrange thing Mr. Golding 
 ihould never write me word ; of all thisbufinefs.— 
 
 Bev. I have not vet examined the proofs, but 
 dare lay, Mr. Fable has- juft. grounds for his pro¬ 
 ceedings. 
 
 Mrs. Gold. Lord, lord !’ How this- Breaks- into- 
 all my arrangements! The glafs over my dreffing- 
 room chimney-piece is duck round with cards, 
 one upon another—I am promifed the whole- 
 town over for thefe three months* But it’s no- 
 matter—they’ll be the death of me—fo it dOnT 
 dgnily. {throws btrfelf into aebair^ 
 
THE MAN OF BUS-INESS. 47 
 
 Bev. We muft look forward, madam. The 
 .profpeft is a little gloomy at prefent, but.promifes 
 to clear again. No-endeavours iliallbe wanting on 
 -lily part. 
 
 Mrs.-Gold. No, I dare fay. You were always 
 a good creature—a great favourite of -mine yo.u 
 •know always—But I can’t tell what pofleffed them 
 •to make you a man of bufinefs. If they had beep 
 •ruled by me, they would have put you into the 
 guards. You would have made a fweet figure in 
 a regimental;: would not he, Lydia ? And then 
 -you’d Have had as little to do as Colonel Parade or 
 -Captain Gillyflower.—But Til look into the red 
 ■book—the only book worth looking into—and fee 
 ;if we can’t ufe our intereft to get you fome little 
 fnug fmecure—a ccommiflioner of trade, perhaps, 
 .or a lord of the admiralty. 
 
 Bev. I begin to feel we hove no dependancebut 
 ■on ourfelves, madam. 
 
 Mrs. Gold. Well, -well—may be not, kinfman 
 .—and yet we have a very genteel fet of acquaint¬ 
 ance.—But, mercy on me, what ,a .figure do ‘I 
 •make, if any body fhould call, in this muflin 
 ihade, and queen’s nightcap,! Lydia, my dear ! 
 let me leave you here a minute or two while 1 
 ■fhufSe on my things—and then come to me in my 
 drelfing-room. Your converfation is better than 
 :hart(horn or lavender. Poor Beverley -here looks 
 .as difmal as young lady-Grizzle on rher marriage 
 .with br Solomon. ;[j Ixst, 
 
 Beverley and Lydia. 
 
 ■(1-bey -remain fame time./dent.) . 
 
 Excufe my, madam, if I venture to ext- 
 how deeply 1 am fenfible .of your appearing 
 ^'keaffe&cd by my misfortunes: and yet I can- 
 : i \ojL but con.fefs that I feel your compaffion almofl 
 £ a as 
 
28 THE MAN OF BUSINESS, 
 as painfully as a reproach—for I am'confciOus I 
 have not deferyed it. 
 
 Lyd. Touched as I am with the r<?verfe of your 
 fituation, Mr. Beverley, I will notdifiemble to you 
 that I am pleafed with the change in your be¬ 
 haviour. 
 
 Bev. Still, fill, this very approbation ferves to 
 reproach me with the impropriety of my late con¬ 
 duct towards you. I feel it. I requeft your for- 
 givenefs of it; and fhould be happy to pafs the 
 ref of mv life in endeavouring to atone it. 
 
 Lyd. Make no apologies to me, Mr. Beverley; 
 I have no right to expect them, nor has your con¬ 
 duct rendered them neceflary : mcft young gentle¬ 
 men who piejue themfelves on their knowledge of 
 the world, aft much in the fame manner as you 
 behaved to me. 
 
 Bev. It is too true •, but it is not the fwarm of 
 coxcombs that renders them lefs impertinent of 
 troublefome. I ought not to have adopted their 
 contemptuous airs, without being matter alfo of 
 their tame infenfibilitv; yet I had youth to plead 
 in cxcufc for my vanities; and I flatter myfclf, 
 that time and reflection—and another motive that 
 dillrafts me when I think of it—might have ren¬ 
 dered me an object lefs unworthy your companion. 
 Calamity has torn the veil from my eyes, and l 
 now ice but too plainly, not only your excellence, 
 but my own imperfections. 
 
 Lyd. Calamity is a fevere mafter, yet amend, 
 nrent can feavee be purchafcd tqo dearly : and as 
 your errors have been venial, your diftrefs may be 
 but tranfient; nay, may, perhaps, at lait be the 
 means of your happinefs. 
 
 Bev. Impoflibie ! Impofliblc ! However I may 
 J be reftored to affluence, I can never, never tafte 
 ©l hapninels. I have thrown away—perhaps wan- 
 tcn!y too—I have tnrown away the jewel that 
 flioulfl 
 
THE MAN OF BUSINESS. 49 
 fhould have been the pride and bleffing of my life. 
 —Oh, Lydia! the feelings of worldly diftrefs are 
 nothing to the agonies of a dcfpairing affection. 
 My fituation extorts from me what I have hitherto 
 'endeavoured to conceal even from myielf. I love 
 you-r-1 feel I long have loved you—though wretch 
 and fool enough to be almoft afhamed of a paf- 
 fion in which I ought to have gloried. I am now 
 punilhed for it—heaven knows, feverely punifhed 
 —perhaps too feverely—by lofing the very hopes 
 of ever obtaining you. 
 
 Lyd. Do not run from one dangerous extreme 
 to another, Mr. Beverley; but guard again!! def- 
 pondency, as well as vanity and preemption. I 
 fee you are much agitated, much deje&ed; and 
 what it would, perhaps, have been dangerous and 
 unpardonable to have’owned to you but yefterday, 
 to-day I fhall not fcruple to declare. Hurried 
 away, as you were, by a torrent of faftrionable va¬ 
 nities, and the poor ambition of keeping high 
 company, I thought I could difcern in your mind 
 and difpolition no mean undemanding, nor un¬ 
 generous principles—too good for the affociatcs 
 you had felcded, and too fufceptible not to be 
 in danger from fuch fociety. It is no wonder, 
 therefore, if I felt any growing partiality for you,' 
 that I endeavoured to reftrain it. 
 
 Bev. To reftrain it! Say rather to extinguifti it. 
 Oh, I now perceive all my wretchedneis.—But to 
 be iupplanted by my bofom-friend ! by Denier! 
 
 Lyd. I am at a lofs to comprehend you. 
 
 Btv. He confeffed to me his paffion for you 
 but this very morning—not an hour ago he de¬ 
 clared to me his intention of making you ferious 
 propofals. 
 
 ■ Ljyi.'.Such propofals would be fure of being re¬ 
 jected— rejected wuh the utmoft indignation. 
 
 Bcv* 
 
S 0 THE MAN OF BUSINESS. 
 
 Bev. What do I hear ? May I Hill hope their ? 
 And are you r.efolvcd not to liiten to. his ad- 
 drefles ? • 
 
 Lyd. I am too well acquainted with his charac¬ 
 ter. His manners, indeed, are lively, and his 
 worldly turn enables him to work himfelf into the 
 friendlhip of others; efpeciallv, thofe like your- 
 felf, Mr. Beverley—of an undefigning open-heart¬ 
 ed character ; in order to avail himfelf of their 
 foibles, promote his iotereft, and gratify his pe¬ 
 nury. Rely not too fecureLy on the warmth of 
 his profellions! fteady tq no point but his intereft, 
 you will find him fluffing in his conduct according 
 to the revolutions in your fortune. He feerned at 
 firft defirous-to unite me to you; but now, hearing, 
 i fuppofe, of the alteration in your circumftances, 
 and the late remittances in my favour, it is per¬ 
 fectly agreeable to his fentiments, to endeavour to 
 fuppiant you. As yet, however, he has made me 
 no overtures, 
 
 Bev. So far then at leaft he is not unfaithful 
 But Oh, my Lydia! may I interpret your repug¬ 
 nance to his addreffes as an argument in my fa¬ 
 vour ? 
 
 Lyd. I have already frankly declared my opinion 
 of your character. It now remains with you to 
 prove the truth of that opinion, and to determine 
 my refolution accordingly. Do but bear up ar 
 gainft adverfity, fo as to flrew yourfeif equal to 
 the poffible return of profperity—a trial, perhaps, 
 ten times more dangerous-^-and be allured, Mr. 
 Beverley, that with the approbation of my friends, 
 
 I fliall be happy to give every proof of my eftecnji 
 for fo valuable a character. 
 
 Bev. My deareft Lydia! f kijjirgher band) Mo- 
 deft, amiable, Lydia! When you avow eiteenq 
 .let me prefume to conftrue it aScction ! Oh Ly- 
 
THE MAN OF BUSINESS jt 
 din, you have; made me fond of my misfortunes. 
 Eafe and affluence corrupted me, and had fo 
 weakened and enervated my mind, that the 
 rough ftroke of adveriity would have ftunned me 
 beyond the power of recovery, had not vour 
 gentle hand raifed me to the hope of happinefs. 
 Take your pupil, Lydia; and render him— 
 for you only can efieft it>—oh' render him 
 worthy of fo dear, fo exqyilite a monitrefs! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT 
 
32 THE MAN OF BUSINESS. 
 
 
 ACT 111. 
 
 An Apartment in Golding's Houfe. 
 
 Enter Servant J,"hewing in Tropick. 
 
 Serv. TT 7 HAT muft I fay to Mr. Fable, fir? 
 
 y V Frop. Only let him know that his 
 old friend Mr. Tropick, the {hip’s hufband,- defires 
 to fpeak with him. 
 
 Serv. I {hall, fir. {Exit. 
 
 Tropick alone. 
 
 Yes, I Qsall fpeak to him—and pretty roundly too, 
 I believe.—What times we live in ! No morals,’ 
 no order, no decency ! Barefaced villainy at one 
 end of the town, and villainy in a mafk at the 
 other 1 —But my old friend here a hypocrite! I 
 lhould almoft as foon have miflrufted myfclf. It 
 is an unthankful office to give advice and reproof; 
 but it is the duty, as well as privilege, of thofe 
 who have been long acquainted with each other,' 
 to let an old friend know, that all the world 
 thinks him afcoundrel.—Oh, here he is. I’ll give' 
 it him—I’ll lecture him—I’ll— 
 
 Enter Fable. 
 
 Fab. Ha 1 my old friend, Tropick! How are 
 you ? How do you ? 
 
 Trap, 
 
THE MAN OF BUSINESS^ 33 
 
 Frop. Well, very well. 
 
 Fab. I am glad on’t; I rejoice to fee you. 
 
 'Trap. May be l'o, may be fo. 
 
 Fab. And your family ?—All well, I hope. - 
 
 Trap. All very well. 
 
 Fab. And the young fupercargo ?—How does 
 he go on ? 
 
 Frop. Mighty well, mighty well. 
 
 Fab . Excellent!—And his elder brother that 
 was placed at Madrafs, is he removed to Bengal 
 yet, as he propofed ? 
 
 Frop. He is, he is; but- 
 
 Fab. That’s right : Madrafs for health, Bengal 
 lor wealth !—that’s the maxim there, you know. 
 
 Frop. Very true, very true; but- 
 
 Fab. And Mrs. Tropick too—How is lhe ? . 
 How is your wife ? 
 
 Frop. P’ihaw! let my wife alone: I want to 
 fpcak with you, old Fable ; I want to fpeak with 
 you. 
 
 Fab. Well; why don’t you then ? 
 
 Frop. Becaufe you hinder me. You flop my 
 mouth with enquiries, and won’t let me fqueeze in 
 a fvllable edgeways—A plague of your quellions! 
 
 Fab. Well, fpeak. 1 am all attention. What 
 have you to fay to me ? 
 
 Frop. Have you a friend or acquaintance in the 
 world ? 
 
 Fab. I think fo; feme few true friends, many 
 more very fufpicious, and a number of common 
 acquaintance. 
 
 Frop. And do you expeft to keep one that has 
 common fenfe or common honelty for the future ? 
 
 Fab. Yes;—and yourfelf in particular.—But 
 what’s the matter ? If you think I have done any 
 thing wrong, it would be but friendly to tell me 
 fo. 
 
 Frop* 
 
 F 
 
3 4 THE MAN OF BUSINESS. 
 
 Trap. I came on purpofe to tell you ; I came on 
 purpofe to abufe you, old Fable. 
 
 Fab. I am obliged to you; but for what reafon ? 
 Trep. Every honed man fhould not only abhor 
 a crime, but even keep clear of lulpicion. 
 
 Fab. Impoffible. 
 
 Trap. How l'o ? 
 
 Fab. Both are not in his power. Not to be cri¬ 
 minal, indeed, lies in his own bread; but fufpicion 
 and calumny, in the breads and mouths of others. 
 You confider yourfelf as an honed man, I fuppofe. 
 
 Tret. Zouns! I know I am, without confidcring 
 at all. 
 
 Fab. And yet, honed: as you are, you could no 
 more prevent my thinking you a rafcal, were I in¬ 
 clined to believe you one, than I could hinder your 
 calling me fo. 
 
 Trap. I tell you all the world calls you fo. It is the 
 talk of the whole city—the Alley is full of it—the 
 ’Change rings with it—and by and by, I fuppofe, the 
 talkers in Leadenhall-dreet will harangue about it. 
 You are pretty well paragraphed already, old Fable. 
 
 Fab. I can’t help their talking or writing. I can 
 only take care not to deferve it. 
 
 Trap. Not deferve it!—Why, was not Gold¬ 
 ing, the great banker, here, your old friend and 
 acquaintance ? 
 
 Fab. Mod intimately fo; mod confidentially; 
 or, at his departure for India, he would fcarce 
 have truded his whole family and affairs to my 
 care, with the particular charge of young Beverley. 
 
 Trap. Oh, did he fo ?—Now we are come to 
 the point then.—And a fine guardian you have 
 (hewn yourfelf—a pretty friend to Mr. Golding 
 too ! You have daggered the credit of the houfe, 
 driven the poor young fellow almod out of his 
 ■lenfes, and made yourfelf his foie trudec and ere- 
 
THE MAN OF BUSINESS. 35 
 
 ditor. Every body fees what you drive at—but the 
 court of chancery may bring you to account vet 
 old Fable-. 
 
 Fab. Let the parties file their bill at their plea- 
 fure—or rather do you be my chancellor. 
 
 Trop. I your chancellor! 
 
 Fab. Yes, you, my friend. I’ll put in my an- 
 fwer immediately—but remember, that while I 
 call upon your judgment in equity, I muft alfo in¬ 
 fill on your fecrccy. 
 
 Trop. What ! keep it a fecret that you are an 
 honeft man ?—Let all the world fuppofe you a 
 fcoundrel ? 
 
 Fab. No matter. Don’t let your zeal for my 
 character teach them to unriddle the myftery at 
 prefent; but rather affift me in carrying on my 
 project. Firft, however, promile filence. Give 
 me your word, old friend. 
 
 Trop. My honour—Now you know you are fore 
 of me. 
 
 Fab. I am convinced of it. You mull know 
 then, that the danger of the houfe, and the ruin of 
 young Beverley, is ail a mere fidtion. 
 
 Trop. A lie !—Zouns! to what purpofe ? 
 
 Fab. The belt in the world—A white lie, my 
 friend! to refeue Beverley, and fave Mr. Goidingr 
 
 Trop. A white lie ?—I don’t underftand you. 
 Explain. 
 
 Feb. The young man was in the high road to 
 deftrudtion, and driving at fuch a rate that he mull 
 loon have overfet the whole undertaking.—It was 
 time to pull the check-firing.—To fpeak plainly ; 
 intoxicated as he was by pleafure and vanity, and 
 countenanced by Mrs. Golding, who ought to 
 have difeouraged him, diredt advice would have 
 been thrown away upon him. But, could I Hand 
 by a (Bent and inadliVe fpedlator of the ruin of a 
 tv hole family No; finding him incorrigible by 
 F 2 " iofter 
 
5 6 THE MAN OF BUSINESS, 
 loiter means, I conjured up the phantom of pover¬ 
 ty. The meafures I have taken have already 
 brought him to reafon; he promifes to become a 
 new man; I lha!l ultimately appear to be a true 
 friend; and the credit of the lioule will be more 
 lirmiv eftablilhcd than ever. 
 
 Trop. I am fpeechlcfs—tfrwck dumb—you have 
 taken my breath awav—I have not a word to fay 
 egainit vou—you are a very worthv, fenfible, honelt 
 fellow, old Fable. You have redeemed your 
 friend Goldin-r, and will be the making of the 
 young fellow’s fortune. 
 
 Tab. Nav, I can’t take the credit of his reforma¬ 
 tion entirely to myfclf neither. He is in love, it 
 feems, with a molt amiable young lady, whole 
 tendornefs is redoubled by his misfortunes, while ns 1 
 calamuv feems to aftedthis mind but the imaginarv 
 w.mt of a fortune Juitable to his pretenlions to her. 
 
 ‘I rop. And how can vou anfwer it to vourfelf, to 
 retain his monev in your hands, when he wilhcs to 
 make fo laudable a uleof it ? 
 
 i a a I uon’t mean to retain it. Finding Bever¬ 
 ley in 1b fair a way of amendment, I have already 
 let another wheel in motion, and (unknown to him) 
 circulated a report of a fudden turn of fortune in 
 his favour. 
 
 ■j rep. Unknown to him, d’ve fav ? 
 
 Tab. Total 1 ’,'; and it is plealant enough to lee- 
 how awktvardiy he receives the civilities which arc 
 paid to him in ccnfequence of this report, while,, 
 unconicious ot the caufe, he expects (according to 
 the way of the world) nothing but flights and' 
 reproaches. To confirm the report, however, and 
 to put him into good humour with himiclf again, 
 I mean to lend a pretended agent or mclTengcr to 
 lrun, with letters and confiderable remittances, as 
 from Mr. Golding. All I want is a trufty perfon to 
 eiilcharge iuch a commiffion. 
 
THE MAN Of BUSINESS. 5 f 
 
 7 yep. Can I be of any nfe to you ? 
 
 Fab. Infinite, if you would undertake this nego¬ 
 tiation. 
 
 7 rep. I!—Why, I am unknown in the family, 
 it’s true—but then the letters—Mr. Golding’s hand, 
 you know— : 
 
 Fab. Oh, reafons may be affigned for his making 
 life cf another hand.—Befidcs, they won’t be exa¬ 
 mined fo nicely. You come to bring money, not 
 to receive it—and that makes a wide difference. 
 But we lofc time —Will you affift me ? 
 
 Trap. I will—hand and heart—body and foul, 
 old Fable. Let me have the ftores, fails, mafts, and 
 rigging, and I’ll fit him out as handfomely as any 
 veiiel I ever fiira.'lhcd in mv life. You are a true¬ 
 hearted, found-borromed fellow, old Fable. But 
 what an afs have I made of mvicli!—Here did I 
 come open-mouthed to reproach you for your 
 rogucrv; and no w veu have perfuaded me to be¬ 
 come your accomplice. 
 
 Fab. Mvallv—leagued in honour, not combined 
 and confederated in villainy. But come with me 
 to mv elefet, and I’ll furnifh you with the needful. 
 
 'T'rcp. Ill follow you; but I mu ft, I muft afk. 
 ycur pardon fir ft. It touched me to the quick to 
 hear von were a rafcal, and I could not help telling 
 you fo.— I beg vour pardon again, and again, and 
 again, mv friend. You are one of the worthieft 
 men in the world—but, you know, there are not a 
 more iillv, emptv, infolent, impudent, ignorant, ly¬ 
 ing vermin, than vour framers of common reports 
 and collectors of perfonal paragraphs—wretches 
 that pretend to know every thing, and know no¬ 
 thing. Your thoughts, words, and actions, they 
 know them all; what you have done, what you are 
 doing, and what you intend to do, they know : 
 know what a ;V'i:t tv’h his comeflbr, or the king 
 »r have been, 
 will 
 
3 8 THE Man of business. 
 
 will be, nor are like to be, Bill they know—true’ 
 or falfe, right or wrong, praife or blame, they don’t 
 care a half-penny.—And I, to give a moment’s cre¬ 
 dit to them ! ■ Forgive me this once, my friend ; 
 and for the future, without certain authority, I’ll 
 never believe a word I hear from common report, 
 or depend upon a fyllable I read in the news-papers. 
 
 [Exeunt, 
 
 The ftreet. 
 
 Enter Lord Riot end Ca/Wt/Rakifti. 
 
 Col. Rak. But do you think there is any tfuth in 
 this report, my lord ? 
 
 Lord Riot. Fact—you may depend upon’t. A 
 proftor from the city, who came to me about my 
 fuit with lady Riot, now depending in the Com¬ 
 mons, told me that he heard it at the St. Paul’s 
 Coffee-houfe from a gentleman that brought the 
 news piping hot from fir George Sterling at Garra- 
 way ; s, and from fome other particular friends of old 
 Fable. 
 
 Col. Rak. So then Beverley is upon his legs again, 
 and Golding is not ruined after all. 
 
 Lord Riot. Full of treafure as a mine, with a 
 certain income as large as a jaghire—fent home 
 whole lacks of rupees by the laft Indiamen, and 
 bufliels of diamonds as plenty as Scotch pebbles. 
 
 Col. Rak. A lucky turn for Beverley ! I wifli I 
 had known it before; I would not have blackballed 
 him at Stapylton’s; but, faith, I thought he had 
 nothing for it but to Ihoot himfelf. 
 
 Lord Riot . He is actually meditating a very de- 
 fperate aftion. I hear he is going to be married. 
 
 Col. Rak. Ay ? to whom, my lord ? 
 
 Lord Riot. Why to mifs-Oh, here he is to 
 
 give an account of himlclf. 
 
 Enter 
 
THE MAN OF BUSINESS. 3$ 
 Enter Beverley. 
 
 How do you, how do you, Beverley ? Nay, never 
 look fo grave and ferious, man ! I know you have 
 no occafion. But why did you not call as I defired 
 you, Beverley ? I love to ferve you, and Ihould 
 have been very glad to fee you. 
 
 Bev. I am obliged to your lordlhip, but I have 
 been engaged in particular bufinefs. 
 
 Lord Riot. Bufinefs! You ufed to think plea- 
 fure your bufinefs. 
 
 Bev. And now, thank heaven, I have learnt to 
 think bufinefs my pleafure. 
 
 Col. Rak. Ah, that’s the true language of a man 
 that is making a fortune and rolling in money, my 
 lord. But, Beverley, my dear boy, why did you 
 not call on me, if you ever thought there was the 
 lead: Ihadow of an occafion ? You muft be fure 
 that all I could command, was entirely at your fer- 
 vice. 
 
 Bev. I am obliged to you, colonel; but there 
 was not the lead necellity for it. 
 
 Lord Riot. No, no; fo it feems. I am very 
 glad to hear it. Will you look in upon us at Al- 
 mack’s this evening, Beverley ? 
 
 Bev. It will not be in my power, my lord. 
 
 Col. Rak. We dine at the Tilt-Yard Coffee-houfe 
 to-day. There is fome excellent claret. Will you 
 go along with us, Beverley ? 
 
 Bev. Not now, I thank you, colonel; I am 
 going to Mr. Denier. 
 
 Lord Riot. Well; let us fee you foon; don’t 
 forfake your friends, Beverley. 
 
 Col. Rak. No; don’t let us lofe you; come 
 amongd us foon, my boy. In the mean time, I 
 with you much joy. 
 
 lord Riot. So do I. Good day, Beverley > 
 
 Col. 
 
46 THE MAN OF BUSINESS; 
 
 Co!. Rah. Good day, good day w you, Be¬ 
 verley ! 
 
 [Exeunt Lord Riot, end La. Rakilh. 
 
 Beverly alone. 
 
 Wifh me joy ! What do they mean ? furelv not to 
 in fuit me! No, no; their manner was fr..nk, and 
 hearty,, and cordiai.—And yet, I thought they 
 behaved oddly on the firft Ihock of my affairs. But, 
 perhaps, my fallibility was too quick on that oc¬ 
 casion, and my ccnfufion on the breaking out of 
 my misfortunes made me fee every thing through 
 a raise medium. Yes, yes, I dare fay I wronged 
 my friends, and I am heartily concerned at it- 
 
 Enter Caffn 
 
 Cefi. Oh, Mr. Beverley, your fervant! I am 
 glad I have found you. I have juft been at your 
 houfc to defire you to difeount thele bills. They 
 are indorfed by good men, and have not above a 
 fortnight or three weeks to run, fir. 
 
 Bev. Difeount, Mr. Cafh? What do you mean ? 
 You know I never venture to do any thing of that 
 fort at prefent. 
 
 Ce.fi. Not venture, indeed !-Well faid, Mr, 
 
 Beverley; you are pleafed to be pleafant. 
 
 Bov. I wiih you would pleafe to be ferious. I 
 am fo I can aft'ure you, Mr. Cafti. 
 
 Caff:. What! you won’t difeount the bills then? 
 
 bev. No. 
 
 Cafi. Confider the names at the back of them. 
 
 Bev. No matter. It don’t fuit us. 
 
 Cafi:.' “ It don’t fuit us,”—that’s the banker’s 
 old anfwer in the negative.—When you’re come 
 to that, I am fin e you won’t do it—I arn forry fer 
 it—I muft try fame other heufe—Your fervant. 
 
 [Exit: 
 
 Bev. Yours ! Now for Denier. [Going. 
 
 Enter 
 
THE MAN OF BUSINESS. 
 
 4 r 
 
 Enter Hazard. 
 
 Haz. Mr. Beverly ! one word with you, if you 
 pleafe. 
 
 Bev. {turning,) Mr. Hazard ! Your pleafure, fir! 
 
 Haz. We have a policy here on Sir Francis 
 Racket, infurcd for a year for twelve thoufand— 
 and we fhould be glad of your name at the bottom 
 of it. 
 
 Bev. My name, Mr. Hazard ! 
 
 Haz. If you pleafe, fir.—There is a handfome 
 .premium, and fir Francis is a very good life—He 
 was fhewn at the coffee-houfe yefterday—a very 
 good life—not above fix or feven and twenty—a 
 little wild, indeed, but fuicide and the hands of 
 jufticc, you know, are always excepted. 
 
 Bev. I pretend to underwrite, Mr. Hazard! Do 
 you want to min me intirely ? 
 
 Haz. Ruin you! ha, ha, ha'! ruin you—a very 
 good ieft, faith—I with I was ruined your way, 
 Mr. Beverley. {Laughing. 
 
 Haz. Do vou laugh at me ? 
 
 Haz. No, no—I don’t laugh at you—but upon 
 my word you make me merry, Mr. Beverley.— 
 Poor ruined gentlemen! ha, ha !—Will you fill 
 up the policy, fir? 
 
 Bev. No, not at 50 per Cent. fir. You know 
 my fituation, and let me tell you, fir, I look upon 
 your application at this time as impertinent—par¬ 
 ticularly impertinent. {turns afide. 
 
 Haz. Know my fituation ! Lord, how ibrne folks 
 fwell on their good fortune! He is turning fine 
 gentleman again already, I perceive.—Impertinent, 
 .quotha ! I wifh he would have fet his name to the 
 policy, tho’—I would rather not have had an 11- 
 raelite among the underwriters—however, let the 
 G raelite 
 
4 2 THE MAN OF-BUSINESS, 
 world come to the worft, we are fure of little Abra¬ 
 ham at lafl. Impertinent, indeed ! [Exit. 
 
 ■ Beverley alone. 
 
 This affront, among many other mortifications, is 
 brought uiion me by mv paft folly and .impru¬ 
 dence. Not only cenfured by the fenfible and 
 •the generous, , but reproached by the bafe, ridi¬ 
 culed by. the malicious, and ini’ulted by the 
 meaneft of mankind— confufion !—But it is no 
 wonder that I ihould be treated contemptuously: by 
 others, when my conduct. has rendered me io 
 thoroughly defpicable even to myfelf. . [Exit 
 
 ■ An Apartment in Denierb Houfe. : 
 
 Enter Lydia and Denier. 
 
 Lyd. Nay, ceafe, I befeech you, fir!. Do not, 
 by urging me on a point fo very difagreeable, ren¬ 
 der it too painful a talk to preferve that re'fpett 
 for you that I wifii to maintain 1 
 
 Den. Engaging Lydia! How much your.re¬ 
 feree becomes you. Yet, let me flatter myfelf it 
 is mere coynefs—and thefe little pruderies^—for fo 
 I will luppofe them—call forth new graces in your 
 character, and revive thc-flame you would attempt 
 to excinguifl). 
 
 L\d. It is, however, with a peculiar ill grace, 
 •fir, that you now pretend to dilcover in me thefe 
 -latent qualifications—You. who feerned lately fo 
 ■defirous of recommending Mr. Beverley, and now:, 
 from what motive you know bell, honouring me. 
 with your own addfefies. ' 
 
 . Den. Beverley !—Beverley is convinced of. my 
 inviolable friendfiup for him—but it is no wonder, 
 -Lydia, that I, who had daily and - hourly oppor¬ 
 tunities of contemplating your perfections., Ihould 
 ' be 
 
TI-IE MAN OF BUSINESS. 
 
 lie more deeply (truck, than he that faw you but 
 occafumally. I fnould not, however, fu'ch is my 
 r'egard for him, have urged my own fuir, without 
 being previously adured of his abfolute indif¬ 
 ference. 
 
 . Lyd. ^difference'!—As to that; fir, Mr:. Bever¬ 
 ley’s indifference, or Mr. Beverley’s partiality,..in 
 this indance, is not at all material. 1 am placed 
 in your family, it is true; and my fituation in life 
 is not as yet jjofitively afeertained. I was taught 
 to’ believe, indeed, that I fliould ere now have, 
 been received and acknowledged by my friends 
 but.,I cbnfider fome late events as an earned of 
 their fpeedy appearance, and I trull they will offer 
 ho violence to thy inclinations. I am determined, 
 at lead: in.my own bread; and be affured, fir, that 
 no intered, no force, no time, lhall lhake my re- 
 folution.. ... 
 
 Den. Your friends, madam, may poffibly be cf 
 a'different opinionand though I might not wild 
 them to put any co.ndraint on you, they will 
 hardly be partial to .the ruinous date of poor Be- 
 verjep 
 
 Lyd. In you, fir, his intimate friend, fucli a re- 
 fledtion is particularly ungenerous : yet do not 
 prefume too much upon that notion, fir! What¬ 
 ever I may think cf Mr. Beverley, fortune at .lead: 
 appears inclined to favour him. 
 
 Den. Riddles! riddles, Lydia ! 
 
 Lyd. You have not’ heard the late news then. 
 He now feems. as much courted by profperity, as 
 he was but lately threatened by misfortunes: and I 
 am this moment going with Mrs. Carlton, to give 
 Mrs- Goiding joy on the occafion. 
 
 Den." And to congratulate Beverley ? 
 
 Lyd. Perhaps fo—but be that as it may, vou 
 muff at lead allow that I have dealt candidly with 
 
 ' G 2 you- 
 
4+ THE MAN OF BUSINESS. 
 you. Grave as I may feem, fir, I would not wifiy 
 to appear a prude; and 1 fcorn all coquettry. 
 
 [Exit, 
 
 Denier alone. 
 
 Yes, yes; file’s fond of Beverley I fee—doatingly 
 fond qf him—and when a fentimental lady is once 
 touched by a fond pallion, the rage is incurable.— 
 But this fiudden turn of fortune too in his favour— 
 that I warrant has its effeft with her—gold, gold, 
 will have its weight—I fliall foon know the par¬ 
 ticulars.—In the mean time, fuppofe I make a 
 merit with- Beverley of facrificing my pallion to 
 him.—He certainly likes her; and it will be a 
 cheap piece of generofity to refign that which I 
 have no hopes of obtaining, I love to hulband 
 my good offices : ay, ay! that’s the true policy! 
 to gain the good will of others, without touching 
 your own property.—Make a fmall prefent to thofe 
 that you are fure want nothing at all, and it turns 
 to account, like money put out at high intereft.— 
 And ever, ever epen your purle, and offer to 
 lend to thole who you know have no occafion to 
 borrow ! 
 
 Enter Beverley, 
 
 Ha 1 Beverley ! you’re welcome. Good day to 
 you ! 
 
 Bev. Good day, Denier! 1 was impatient to fee 
 you. 
 
 Den. Yes, I dare fay. I knew you would not 
 be long out of the houlc. But come; cenfefs ho- 
 neftly, Beverley! Was this vifit wholly defigned 
 for me ? Was not it partly—nay chiefly—intended 
 for Lydia ? 
 
 Bev. Lydia 1—Lydia !—I firculd have been very 
 glad to fee Lydia—I hope fire is well. 
 
 Den. 
 
THE MAN OF BUSINESS. 45 
 
 Den. Very well—and very much at your fervice 
 —very much at your fervice, Beverley. 
 
 Bev. What do you mean ? 
 
 Den. I mean what I fay—and I have been think¬ 
 ing too on what paffed at our laft meeting, Be¬ 
 verley. 
 
 Bev. On what fubjeft ? 
 
 Den. Nay, nay; there is but one fitlyeefc-of any 
 confequcnce now, you know. But I am afraid 
 you diflemblcd with your friend a little. You 
 ihould be frank and generous with me. The com¬ 
 merce of friendfhip can’t fubfift without it; and I 
 have that title to the knowledge of what paffes in 
 your bread, Beverley. 
 
 Bev. It was then in a date of infurreftion, and 
 I was not maftcr of its emotions, nor indeed, well 
 able to marfnal or diftinguifh them: but you- 
 know I never fcrupled to lay my heart open to you. 
 
 Den. Why, to do you juftice, I believe your 
 not being explicit, arofe from the agitation of your 
 mind at that infant, rather than from want of fin- 
 cerity—and I was a little flow of apprehenfion on 
 my 'part—but now wc perfectly underftand each 
 other.—I fee you love Lydia : I am lure of it— 
 and out of friendfhip and regard to you, my dear 
 Beverley—I frankly give up all my pretenfions to 
 her. 
 
 Bev. Generous, generous Denier! 
 
 Den. Not at all—not at all—all my good offices 
 with her friends, mv correfpondents in India, Mr. 
 Fable, and your own family, you have a right to 
 command. 
 
 Bev. Your kindnefs overwhelms me. How 
 fhamefully \vas I difpoled far r. time to do injuftice 
 to friendfhip ! I now defpile the mean and narrow 
 common-plncc maxims of our friends falling off 
 from us. There is a jealomV in the unfortunate— 
 an unworthy fufpicion of r.cgleft and contempt 
 on 
 
4 & THE MAN. OF BUSINESS, 
 oil account of their diftrcffes.—Mv flighted: ac¬ 
 quaintance have given me proon their good 
 will, and, your friendfliip is abev: all acknow¬ 
 ledgment. 
 
 ben. I am happy in an occafion of teflifying my 
 ufi-.rueflionablc regard for you. 
 
 hr.. I don’t doubt it. 
 
 Den* Depend on it! 
 
 Bev. My beft friend ! 
 
 Den. My dear, dear Beverley ! 
 
 {Exeunt, prejfing hands, embracing, proteft'mg, <kr 
 
 ACT 
 
THE MAN OF BUSINESS. 47 
 
 ACT 
 
 IV. 
 
 An Apartment in Golding’; Houfe. 
 
 Enter Fable and Check. 
 
 Fab. rpHIS way, this way, Check! And are 
 you lure, quite fure this is fadt ? 
 
 Check. Too true, fir. 
 
 Fab. Speculated in India-ftock, do you fay ? 
 
 Check. To an incredible amount, fir ! here’s the 
 particular, fir. . > 
 
 Fab. Let me fee—let me fee— (looking at the 
 paper.) —Confufion !—and had \ ou no knowledge 
 or lufpicion of thele tranfactions till now, Check ? 
 
 Check. Not the lead: item, fir. Little Smoufe 
 the broker is but juft gone, and fays he has done 
 more ftock for my young mafter, than for half the 
 reft of the Alley. 
 
 Fab. What imprudence! What madnefs! 
 
 Check. High play, indeed, fir ! Sir Charles Du¬ 
 cat of Mincing-lane, and my young mafter, it 
 feems, have had the whole game between them. 
 My young mafter is the bull, and fir Charles is the 
 bear. He agreed for ftock, expediting it to be up 
 at three hundred by this time ; but lack-a-day, 
 fir, it has been falling ever fince.—You know the 
 rcfcov.nrer day, fir; and if Mr. Beverley does not 
 pay his differences within thefe four and twenty 
 hours, the world cannot hinder his being a lame 
 dud:. 
 
 Fah 
 
48 THE MAN OF BUSINESS. 
 
 Fab. It fcarce Signifies what beeomes of him—a 
 prodigal!—But my friend Mr. Golding— 
 
 Check. Ay, if Mr. Beverley fails, the whole 
 houfe rnuft fuffer, fir. Having flood the late run 
 upon us, our credit was firmer than ever.—But, 
 after a tumble in the Alley, our notes will no more 
 pafs than a light guinea. 
 
 Fab. Is Mr. Beverley within ? 
 
 Check. I thought I heard him come in juft as I 
 was following you hither, fir. 
 
 Fab. Let him know I defire to fpeak with him. 
 
 Check. I will, fir, [Exit. 
 
 Fable alone. 
 
 So!—To trifle with ferious matters is playing with 
 fire, I find. The ruin I counterfeited is now be¬ 
 coming real; and the meaiures I embraced to 
 reform Beverley, and fave my friend, will only 
 ferve to haften their deftruftion. The fudden- 
 nefs of the alarm confounds me. The fhcrtnefs 
 of the time too 1—-Oh, you are here, fir. 
 
 [Enter Beverley. 
 
 Bev. To attend your pleafure, fir. 
 
 Fab. To witnefs your own irretrieveable ruin, fir ! 
 —How comes it, Mr. Beverley, how comes it, I 
 fay, that you have hitherto kept your adventuring 
 in the Alley, your infamous gambling in India- 
 ftock fo profound a Secret from me ? 
 
 Bev. Spare your reproaches, Mr. Fable ! They 
 are needlefs. I know ail my fault, and all my 
 milery. Ruin and infamy now flare me in the 
 face, and drive me to defpair. The vain hopes I 
 had cherifhed of avoiding both are fruftrated; and 
 there is not at this moment a more pitiable objedt 
 than the wretch you now fee before you. 
 
 Fab. Pitiable ! And what part of your cor.ducf, 
 fir, has entitled you to companion ?—To that 
 compaffion, which the charadteriftick humanitv of 
 tlfis 
 
THE-MAN 0-F- BUSINESS. 49 . 
 
 this, nation has ever {hewn to the unfortunate ?— 
 
 Sometimes, indeed, to the.imprudent ?-Have 
 
 you, fir, any claim to this? You, who have fo 
 grofly abufed the mutual confidence between man 
 and man, and betrayed the important trull repofed 
 in you—What 1 a banker! a banker, Mr. Bever¬ 
 ley, not only fouandering .his own fortune, but. 
 playing with the property of others!—the pro¬ 
 perty of unconfcious perfons filcntly melting away, 
 as if by forgery, under his hands, without their 
 own prodigality !—And is fuch a man, becaufe 
 he is at length buried in the ruin he has pulled 
 down on others, an objeft of compaflion? No, 
 fir, nothing is to be lamented but the mildnefs of 
 his puniflrment. 
 
 Brj. The very atrocioufnefs of his c.rime, the 
 pungency of his guilt andremorfc, which put him 
 upon a rack feverer than-any penal laws could dc- 
 vife, hill render him an object of pity. 
 
 Fab. Your remorfe and reformation, I fear, 
 were but hvpocrify. .‘Where was that ingenuous 
 confidence that would elfe have prompted you to 
 lay open this dark tranfaction, as w'ell as the reft 
 of your unjuftifiable extravagance ? Your candour, 
 in that inftance, would, at. Jeaft have argued the 
 fincerity of your profeflions, and afforded a real 
 .proof of your penitence. 
 
 Bev. Oh, fir, do not attribute my filence to de¬ 
 ceit ! I had been taught to hope and believe that 
 the event would have proved profperous; and 
 thought to have furprifed you, and charmed Ly¬ 
 dia, with my unexpeSed good fortune. But oh, 
 what a cruei reverie have I now to experience 1 
 
 Fab. A reverfe that the daily experience of 
 thouf.mds might have warned you to avoid, rather 
 than to build vour hopes on fueh a fandy foun¬ 
 dation. The tide of eaftern riches flowing in upon _ 
 H us, 
 
5 o THE MAN OF BUSINESS, 
 us, which might have fcattered plenty over our 
 country, fuch adventurers as you, Mr. Beverley, 
 have rendered the parent of poverty, and the 
 means of almoft general baakruj tcy. A fimple 
 individual to rife to day worth half a million—an 
 undone man to morrow! Are thele the principles 
 of commerce ? Were thcfc the leflons which your 
 worthv father tranfmittcd to you ? or which I have 
 inculcated ? 
 
 Bev. Have mercy, Mr. Fable; confider my 
 fituation, and do not feck to aggravate the horrors 
 of ic—I who fo lately thought myfelf in the road 
 to profperity, hoping to retrieve my fortune, and. 
 redeem mv character, now Ihortly to be branded as 
 the molt faithlefs of beings, the bafeft of mankind! 
 Di!traction! 
 
 Fab. Your fituation, I own is dreadful; but by 
 what an unpardonable complication of depravity 
 have you brought it upon yourfelf, Mr. Beverley ! 
 Not content with one fpecies of enormity, but in* 
 dullrioufly multiplying your ruin, and combining 
 in vourfelf the double vices of a man of bufinefs, 
 and a man of pleafure 1 Gambling the whole 
 morning in the Alley, and fitting down at night 
 to quhtze and hazard at St. James’s; by turns, 
 making yourfelf a prey to the rooks and fharks 
 at one end of the town, and the bulls and bears 
 at the other! Formerly a young fpendthrift was 
 contented with one fpecies of prodigality—but it 
 was reserved for you and your precious affociates 
 to compound this new medley of folly, this olio 
 of vice and extravagance, at once including the dif- 
 folutcnefs of an abandoned debauchee, the chi¬ 
 canery of a pettyfogger, and the dirty tricking 
 of a fraudulent flock-jobbing broker. 
 
 Bev. Go on ; go on, fir! it is lels than I merit, 
 and I can endure it with patience. My late hu¬ 
 mid* 
 
THE MAN OF BUSINESS. S t 
 filiation was but the prologue to my total ruin* 
 The mbit defperate calamity cannot now make me 
 more miierable. 
 
 Fab. Oh, Beverley! did you but know the con- 
 folation I had in dore for you, the fchemes I had 
 formed to make you eafy in your circumdances, 
 and happy in your love, you would dill more re¬ 
 gret this cruel difappointment. 
 
 Bev. Happy in my love!—Oh Lydia, I dare 
 not even think of my preemption in having af- 
 pired to your favour! 
 
 Fab. Go young man! go to thofe friends on 
 whom you formerly placed fuch reliance, and try 
 what they will contribute to deliver you from 
 ruin !—Leave me a while—frudying to exert my 
 weak endeavours to preferve my friend—or, if they 
 fail, draggling to arm my mind with fortitude 
 and patience. 
 
 Bev. Where fliall I direct myfelf? to whom 
 fliall I apply ? My fituation I fear is hopelefs. 
 The inhabitant of a dungeon, under fentence of 
 execution, is in a date of happinefs, to what 1 feel 
 •at this moment. [£#//. 
 
 Fable alone. 
 
 Though he appears at this indant fo very culpable, 
 I cannot but be touched by his agitation and re- 
 morfe.—Yet this is not a moment for paffion, but 
 reflection.—The ruin, if not'prevented, fo tho¬ 
 roughly overwhelming 1 The time fo preffing! My 
 friend abfent! The property I can command, 
 large and confiderable as it is, not to be converted 
 into fpecie direCtly!—What can be done ?—Mr. 
 Tropick mud return me the money in his hands; 
 which I mud now prevent his delivering, as well 
 as the fuppofed letters to Beverley—yet that will 
 be far, very far from fufficient—how to make up the 
 red then!—There is one way indeed—but is that 
 
j; THE MAN OF BUSINESS, 
 warrantable ? Lvdin’s truft money.—Have I a 
 right, on .any pretence whatever, to lay my hands 
 but for a moment, on that f'ucred depofit ?—And* 
 vet, where would be the injury ? I am furc of re¬ 
 placing the fum before there is the lead proba¬ 
 bility of its being demanded: and that rcfource, 
 in conjundtion with others already in my power, 
 would limply every emergency. My abfent friend 
 would be rcieued from certain ruin, even the tranf- 
 greffion of Beverley might be concealed from the 
 world, and Lydia would fuffer no wrong, nor even 
 be alarmed by lufpicion—It fliall be lb. I’ll fee 
 this broker and fettle the matter immediately.— 
 And vet, my heart recoils at this tranfadtion. 
 Tne mod pious frauds are at lead ambiguous; 
 2 nd I feel it as the mod cruel neeeffity to be driven 
 to indirect means, even for the mod generous pur- 
 pofes,—But I have entangled myfelf by one 
 crooked aftion, and I mud endeavour to redeem all 
 by another. [EAl. 
 
 Another Apartment in the fame Hotfe. 
 
 Enter Handy and Mrs. Flounce. 
 
 Handy. Oh 1 if this is the cafe, I fnall give 
 warning immediately. 
 
 Mrs. Flounce. So fliall I, I promife them. Ruined 
 indeed ! in my mind it is a mondrous piece of im¬ 
 pudence in thd'e trumpery merchant-people to keep 
 gentlefolks for their fervants, like people of qua¬ 
 lm.—Mrs. Golding quotha’!—a gentlewoman of 
 r t I family—as wealthy- a lope-maker's 
 
 dangle er as any ill the city of -Briitot! equal to 
 Mrs. Golding, 1 hope, at any lime. 
 
 Handy. Equal,- Mrs. Flounce ! r ay, and a -great 
 deal fuperiour. An old worn-out bit of beggar’s- 
 fapa, that binds the hem- of quality !—imitating 
 eountdies and duckcfics—endeavouring to adapt 
 her 
 
 1 
 
THE MAN OF BUSINESS. 53 
 her vulgar weft-country airs to the meridian of St. 
 James’s—aping in her Briftol manner, the airs 
 and graces of perfons of fafhion—but no more 
 like perfons of fafhion, than a Briftol ftone is to a 
 diamond i 
 
 Mrs. Flounce. Well! fcrvicc (as they fay) is' no 
 inheritance, Mr. Handy—fo I fhan’t go into place 
 again—not I, truly—I have taken a houie atHogf- 
 den, and intend to fet up a boarding-fehool to 
 teach voting ladies breeding. 
 
 Handy. And you’ll have great fucce'fs, I dare 
 
 fay, Mrs. Flounce.-As to me, my mafter was 
 
 to have got me a good place in the India-Houfe; 
 or to have fent me out 'with the next cargo of 
 judges and generals to Bengal.—But now he’s 
 ruined in the Alley, his intereft I fuppofe is all 
 gone—as well as his principal—eh, Mrs. Flounce! 
 But this is always the cafe, when Lombard Street 
 will travel to Pall Mall. Quite another latitude ! 
 Is it not, Mrs. Flounce r—But odfo! here’s fome- 
 bodv coming up flairs—we’ll fettle this matter in 
 the houlckcepcr’s room. Your hand, my dear! 
 
 Mrs. Flounce. And my heart too, Mr. Handy! 
 but I ihall pick a quarrel with my lady, and give 
 warning as loon as flic comes home. 
 
 Handy. To be lure, Mrs. Flounce ! There’s no- 
 thing mere to be got in this houfe. We’ll both 
 give warning immediately; and we’ll give up the 
 month’s wages to the poor devils out of mere 
 charity. ' [Exeunt. 
 
 Enter a Servant followed by Golding. 
 
 Gold. Mr. Fable not at home, d’ye fay -? 
 
 Serv. But juft gone out, fir. 
 
 Geld. Nor Mr. Beverley ? • 
 
 Serv. No, fir: 
 
 Gold. Nor Mrs. Golding neither ? 
 
54 THE MAN OF BUSINESS. 
 
 Serv. My lady has been abroad with two other 
 ladies mod part of the morning, but we exped 
 her home very foon, fir. 
 
 Gold. Well—well—as foon as any of them re¬ 
 turn, let me know. 
 
 Serv: I will, fir. [Exit. 
 
 Golding atone. 
 
 Vary ftrange ali this! I don’t underftand one word 
 I have heard or read of my friends, or myfelf, or 
 my affairs fince I landed. Thou art in a maze, 
 friend Golding! But a man who comes home 
 from the Indies, muft exped at his return to meet 
 with fome new events to furprife him—his houfe 
 burnt, his daughter eloped, his fon engaged in a 
 fray, his wife dead, or fome little accident. The 
 principal objed of my voyage too has not yet an- 
 f.vered, though in other points it has amply fuc- 
 eeeded. I long to fee Mr. Fable, or Beverley, or 
 my wife-Who have we here ? 
 
 Enter Tropick. 
 
 What is your pleafure, fir ? 
 
 Trop. To fpeak with Mr. Beverley. But he is 
 not at home, they fay. 
 
 Gold. So it feems, hr. 
 
 Trop. Having fome very particular bufinefs with 
 him, I muft beg leave to wait for his return. 
 
 Gold. I am concerned in Mr. Beverley’s affairs. 
 Pray, fir, what is your bufinefs ? You may truft 
 it to me, fir. 
 
 Trop. I have letters of great confequence from 
 abroad to deliver to him, and fome more for Mr. 
 Fable. 
 
 Gold. From abroad! from what part of the 
 world ? and from whom, fir > 
 
 Trop. From India—from my old friend and ac¬ 
 quaintance Mr. Golding. 
 
 Gold. 
 
THE MAN OF BUSINESS 55 
 
 Gold. Mr. Golding!—So here’s an old friend and 
 acquaintance of mine that I never faw in my life 
 before, (qfide.) -And pray how is Mr. Gold¬ 
 
 ing, fir? 
 
 Trap. Never better, fir. 
 
 Gold. Where is he at prefent, fir ? 
 
 ‘Trap. In India, Sir. 
 
 Gold. What part of India ? 
 
 Trcp. Bengal. 
 
 Gold. I don’t know that ever I had the pleafure 
 of feeing Mr. Golding. Pray what fort of a man 
 is he ? 
 
 Trop. As good a fort of man as breathes, fir. 
 
 Gold. Yes; but his perfon! 
 
 Trap. Oh, as to his perfon, that is indifferent 
 enough—a little, wizen, withered, whipper-fnap- 
 ner old gentleman, Ihorter by the head and fhould- 
 ers than you or I, fir.—A little merry man though 
 —many a curry have I cat in his company- 
 many a fagar have little Goldy and I fmoaked to¬ 
 gether. 
 
 "Gold. What you and little Goldy arc particular 
 friends then ? 
 
 Trcp. Very particular; or he hardly would have 
 entrufted me with my prefent commiffion, I be¬ 
 lieve. 
 
 Gold. What may that commiffion be, fir ? 
 
 Trap. Nay, I may tell you: and indeed the 
 affair will foon be known by every body.—I am 
 not only commiflioned to deliver the letters I men¬ 
 tioned, but charged with a very capital remittance 
 from my friend Golding, configned to Mr. Fable, 
 in favour of the young gentleman here, Mr, Be¬ 
 verley, for whom I now came to enquire. 
 
 Gold. And have you this capital remittance with 
 you at prefent, fir ? 
 
 Trop. Yes, yes; I have my credentials. Here' 
 they are ! (clapping his hand to his pocket) fafe and 
 found, 
 
5 6 THE MAN OF BUSINESS, 
 found, I warrant you—and as good as the Bank, 
 
 Go’.i. And you had this money directly from 
 Mr. Golding, you fay ? 
 
 Trap. From his own hands—from whom elfc 
 fhould I have it ? 
 
 Gold. Nav, how fhould I know ! But it is very 
 well as it is—very well. Be lo good then, if you 
 pleaie, fir, to deliver this very capital fum of mo¬ 
 ney to me, fir! 
 
 Trcp. To you r on what account, friend !’ 
 
 Gold. Becaufe, as vou fay, you had it from me. 
 
 Trcp. Whv, who are you? 
 
 Gold. The very perfon from whofe own hands, 
 vou confels you received it—Mr. Golding. 
 
 Trcp. You, Mr. Golding! 
 
 Geld. The fame. 
 
 Trcp. No, no—not you, indeed—that will ne¬ 
 ver pats,- I promife you. 
 
 Gold. Not Mr. Golding!—Why, who the de¬ 
 vil am I then ? 
 
 Trcp. A damn’d rogue, I believe. Juft now 
 vou laid, you did not know Mr. Golding; and as 
 loon as you heard I had brought a confiderable 
 fum of money, you are turned into Mr. Golding 
 yourieif.—But you may call your fkin again, old 
 ierpenr. The trick- won’t take, l allure you. 
 
 Gold. Trick!—This is the mod impudent piece 
 of knavery !—Trick, indeed ! I believe, there is 
 fame trick upon me. here, if I knew what to make 
 of it—I’ll have you taken up for a new kind of 
 forgery; for bringing money upon falfe pretences 
 
 Trcp. And you infill upon it that you are Mr. 
 Golding ? 
 
 Gold. To be lure, T do. I’ll call the whole home 
 to prove the truth of it. 
 
THE MAH OF BUSINESS. 57 
 Trap. And Mr. Golding, the true Mr. Golding, 
 is really returned from India then ? 
 
 Gold. To be fure he is. Can’t you fee, fir ? 
 Trip. I have made a fool of myfelf a fecond 
 time—that’s what I fee—but be Who you will, Mr. 
 Golding, or not Mr. Golding, I fhall not deliver 
 the letters or money to you, old gentleman !—I’ll 
 go back again like a fool as I came, to the old 
 fool that fent me—on fuch a fool’s errand. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Golding alone. 
 
 What the plague ! Am I in India dill then ? or in 
 the moon ? and mylelf and the people about me 
 all lunatics r—Our affairs, they fay are all in con- 
 fufion, and yet Beverley is going to be married.— 
 To whom I wonder!—No matter who—the match 
 I intended will be quite out of the qucftion.— 
 Another piece of ill fortune !—But I am in the 
 dark all this while—talking of every thing, and 
 acquainted with nothing.—Well! fince I can find 
 nobody, and get no intelligence at home, I will 
 feek for it abroad—by delivering my letters, and 
 making enquiries at Mr. Denier’s— (grin?) But 
 flay !' here’s a woman at laft. My wife, I hope, 
 —Hey ! how’s this ? Do I fee right ? Mrs. Carl¬ 
 ton ! 
 
 Enter Mr. Carlton. 
 
 Of all the women on earth, Mrs. Carlton ! 
 
 Mrs. Carlt. Mercy on me! What do I fee ? Can 
 that be Mr. Winterton ? 
 
 Gold. No. 
 
 Mrs. Carlt. Yes. It is he— 
 
 Gold. No, no, no, I tell you ! 
 
 Mrs. Carlt. What! flian’t I believe my fenfes i 
 Are not veu Mr. Winterton ? 
 
 I Gold. 
 
5 3 THE MAN OF BUSINESS. 
 
 Gold. Till'll!—I am glad to fee you—You 
 know me well enough—but don’t call me by that 
 name again for the life of you ! 
 
 Mrs. Cork. Why your name is Winterton— 
 isn’t it fir ? 
 
 Gold. Hid! Don’t bawl fo—Come away from 
 that door a little—and not a. breath of that name, 
 
 I charge you. 
 
 Mrs. Carlt. Lord, Lord; what’s the matter with 
 you ?—What’s the man fo much afraid of ? 
 
 ' Gold. What-mod men are afraid of.—My wife. 
 
 Mrs. Carlt. Your wife ! 
 
 Gold. Ay; Mrs. Golding. Now you are fa- 
 tisfied. 
 
 Mrs. Carlt. What l and are you Mr. Golding 
 then after all, fir ? 
 
 Gold. 1 believe fo. I was Mr. Golding before 
 I went abroad—but I fcarce know who I am, or 
 what I am, or where I am, fince I came back 
 again. <? 
 
 Mrs. Carlt. So this was the reafon then that we,- 
 poor fouls, could never difcover what was become 
 of you, Mr. Winterton—Mr. Golding, I Beg 
 your pardon, fir. But you need not be fo terrified 
 —for I left Mrs. Golding-on alnorning vifit, and 
 fhe is not come in yet. 
 
 Gold. In the mean while, let us make the bed 
 ufe of our time then—Where is my daughter ? 
 where is Lydia ? 
 
 Mrs. Carlt. I left her with Mrs. Golding. 
 You’ll fee them both here prefently. 
 
 Gold. That’s well—but we rnuft be cautious— 
 How does flie do ? 
 
 Mrs. Carlt. As well as can be expeded in her 
 fituation. < 
 
 Gold. As well as can be expeded !—What do . 
 you.mean ?— Her fituation!—Not undone, .1 hope. 
 
 Mrs. Carlt. 
 
THE MAN OF BUSINESS. 59 
 
 Mrs. Carlt. Only over heed end ears in loves 
 fir. 
 
 Gold. In love ! with whom ? 
 
 Mrs. Carlt. With the tcung gentleman of this 
 lioUi’e—Mr. Bcvcrlev. 
 
 Gold. Beverley !—'Why he is going to be mar¬ 
 ried. 
 
 Mrs. Carlt. So they fay, fir. 
 
 Gold. But to whom r do you know r 
 
 Mrs. Carlt. To her, fir. 
 
 Geld. To Lydia r 
 
 Mrs. Carlt. Yes to be fure, fir. Heaven forbid 
 it fnould have been any body die.—But his affairs 
 are all in confulion, it feems, and there’s fuch a 
 pother between them, that I am half diffracted 
 about it. 
 
 Gold. And I n.m quite diffracted—diffracted 
 with joy, Mrs. Carlton ! Heaven be praifed !— 
 Come, come ; here is one piece of good fortune 
 however ! —Leave voting folks to themieives, I 
 fay.—What I have been labouring and ffudying to 
 bring about, have thev fettled at once. The very 
 thing I could have vifhed ! Half the purpofe of 
 myvovage to India, and the meaning of the mo¬ 
 ney lately remitted, for which Mr. Fable is ap¬ 
 pointed truffee. 
 
 Mrs. Carlt. And docs Mr. Fable know any thing 
 of her relation to you, fir ? 
 
 Gold. Not a fyilablc — heaven be praifed, not a 
 fyllable !—I was not willing to explain the matter, 
 till I faw more likelihood of my fcheme’s taking 
 place.—And now from what I can judge of his 
 proceedings, it is lucky that I never trufted him. 
 An old fox ! a caterpillar! a viper ! Beverley’s 
 foie truftcc, and creditor indeed !-a croco¬ 
 
 dile ! 
 
 Mrs. Carlt. But was it not a little cruel in you to 
 keep us lo long in the dark, Mr. Golding ? 
 
 I 2 Gold. 
 
6 o THE MAN OF BUSINESS. 
 
 Gold. Nay I have not been fo much to blame 
 neither Mrs. Carlton. My Frit marriage with 
 Lvdia’s mother when I was an idle young fellow, 
 was a fool:fir love bulinefs—and I knew that my 
 having a daughter abroad would have been an ob¬ 
 jection to my prefent wife’s relations—fo I fairly 
 kept the whole matter a fecret.— Lydia’s mother 
 dying in child birth, and my prefent marriage hav¬ 
 ing taken place, during the infancy of Lydia, I 
 directed her to be educated by another name, un¬ 
 der which I once vifited you and my daughter in 
 India—that's the whole affair!—'But not a word 
 more of the name or the bulinefs, I charge you! 
 
 Mrs. Carlt. Not for the woild, fir, till you 
 think proper to mention it. 
 
 Mrs. Gold, {behind) Defire Mifs Lydia to fee 
 the things taken out of the coach, and then to fol¬ 
 low me into the drawing room ! 
 
 Mrs. Carlt. Ha ! the ladies are here—here al¬ 
 ready I proteft, fir. 
 
 Geld. Yes I hear my wife’s voice, I would not 
 have her furprize us together. *1 might appear 
 fomewhat aiikwarcl and confufed, perhaps, I’ll 
 run and give her the meeting—but remember now, 
 not a wry word for' your life! Mum, mum, Mrs. 
 pulton! [Exit, 
 
 Mrs. Carlton alone. 
 
 You may depend upon me, fir.—Ah Mr. Gold¬ 
 ing, Mr. Golding ! There is no muling to looks, 
 I find. Yv ho would have thought of your palling 
 -by a wrong, name? Who would have fulpedted 
 fuch a grave, demure-looking gentleman ? 
 
 Enter Mr. and Mrs. Golding. 
 
 Mrs. Cold. My dear love! I am tranfportod to 
 fee'you.—This is the moll agreeable lurptize—I 
 thought 
 
THE MAN OF BUSINESS. Gi 
 thought the hit Tups that came in would have 
 brought me nothing but letters—or, perhaps, a 
 pagoda, or a monkey at belt. But my huibanu ! 
 —my dear love !—Oh my clear, let me introduce 
 a very agreeable, genteel young ladv to you!— 
 a young lady of fortune and family—I allure you. 
 
 ■—My hufband, my dear child ! (Jnlrcduc.ng Lydia) 
 My dear, mils Lvdia Wintcrton ! 
 
 Lyd. Ha ! my father! Mr. Wintcrton ! (faints 
 cevay). 
 
 Mrs. Co'd. She faints away—take care of the 
 child ! 
 
 Maids enter and run to cjfijl Lydia. 
 
 Lord ! what’s the meaning of this ?—She cried 
 out, father! and called you A \ n 
 
 Geld. Yes—flic did fay fomething about Bet¬ 
 terton. 
 
 Mrs. Carlt. Ay, the poor child has very weak 
 feints.—Every little thing flutters her.—And Mr. 
 Golding is a little like her papa too, I mm..— 
 efpeciallv about the nofe. 
 
 Gold. Ay ; may be lo—may be lc—but. my 
 dear, iuppofe you take her into your chamber, 
 and let her lie down a little to recover herfpirits' 
 
 Mrs. Gold. Ay; we’ll foon bring her to heriei; 
 again—this wav, Molly—keep the eau de luce to 
 her nofe r —This is from riding backwards in tire 
 coach, I l’ancv—this way, gently, Molly ! gently. 
 
 Lb/rs. Gold and Maids lead cut Lydia.. 
 
 Mann;! Mrs. Carlton and Golding. 
 
 Gold. So, fo ! Here was an efcape ! Murder 
 will out. 
 
 Mrs. CtvU. Never fear, never fear, fir! I’ll go 
 in to Lvdia dirceflv—let no body be about her but 
 nr ;e:f—and as loon as fine recovers, I’ll teach her 
 her 
 
62 THE MAN OF BUSINESS, 
 
 her leffbn and give her the light cue, I warrant 
 
 Geld. Ay, do fo, do fo, Mrs. Carlton! Take 
 care, I befcech you ! For the lake of peace and 
 quietnefs keep this matter a fecret! I ihall never 
 be able to break it to Mrs. Golding—die would 
 think herfeif injured, cheated, robbed, and un¬ 
 done.—And ir die were once to know Lydia was 
 a daughter of mine, fhe would ring it in my ears 
 as long as I live—a fmcaky horde, and a fcolding 
 wife, you know !—I need lav no more—It is a 
 kind of bed to inhabit one, end the devil himfeif 
 would farce live with the other. \Exeut!', 
 
 A C T 
 
THE MAN OF BUSINESS. 63 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 An Apartment in Denicr’j Houfe. 
 
 Denier and Capias. 
 
 Den. T7ERY\vell, very well!—And you have 
 V him fafe then, Mr. Capias ? 
 
 Cap. Safe and fecurc, I warrant you, fir. I put 
 the writ into furc hands—thofe that will touch a 
 man let him be ever fo fliv—however, they had 
 not much ado in this inllance.—They planted 
 themfelves at the corner, ftopt Mr. Golding near 
 his own door, and told him their bufinefs: he 
 went with them at once, and is now lodged with 
 my friend Snap in Shire Lane. 
 
 Den. This comes from early intelligence. No 
 minifter, no general, no broker could turn it to 
 greater advantage. 
 
 Cap. But how did you procure it, fir ? You are 
 the fi. upon the roll—I fearched the ffierifFs office, 
 and there is nothing elfe out again!! Mr. Golding, 
 or any body connected with him. 
 
 Den. Bcverlev, knowing me to be his friend, 
 came to acquaint me with his diftreffes in the Al¬ 
 ley. The natural confcquenccs of that adventure 
 are obvious: and all my India concerns, remit¬ 
 tances, and money traniactions coming through 
 their houfe, it ftruck me with a panick; but by 
 
c>4 THE MAN OF BUSINESS, 
 good luck, he was lcarce gone before I had no¬ 
 tice of Mr. Golding’s rerurn by letters from India, 
 brought by the fame fhips in which he came over. 
 I did not lofe a moment. I dare fay he had not 
 once entered his doors when the officers met him, 
 and perhaps Beverley himlelf is not vet appriled 
 of his arrival. Am not I a man of dilpatch, Mr. 
 Capias? 
 
 Cap. A Casfar, a Machiavel, fir! You know all 
 the turnings and windings and narrow back ilairs 
 of the law too. You feel your own way; and 
 are client, counlel, and attorney, all in one, fir 1 
 
 Dm. And have you the deed ready, Capias ' 
 
 Cap. Here it is, fir, perilled, figned, and lit- 
 rled by oid Steady, of Lincoln’s-] — it l 
 lent workman—and if we can prevail on Mr. 
 Golding to execute it, you’ll come m tor an cx- 
 cluiive Hen upon his effects, inftead of compound¬ 
 ing with the other creditors under a commiiTiun of 
 bankruptcy, which I fuppofe will be taken out in 
 Ids than tilde three days. 
 
 Dm. Ay —and under which they will not pay 
 five ihillings in the pound, perhaps—fucli a tum¬ 
 ble !—fign the deed ! tell him he mult lign it— 
 Mis mind’s unfettled yet, and he'll be cafdv per¬ 
 vaded—Befides, he’ll be glad to terve a particular 
 friend—It can’t afFedt him, you know—the al- 
 ltgnees will divide the remainder.—I have been a 
 conihnt friend to the lioufe—he’ll be glad to re- 
 the obligation, and I Avail fail upon my legs 
 again. - 
 
 Cap. Let us lofe no time, the fooner lie executes 
 the better, fir! 
 
 Den. Come along then ! I’ll attend you to Mr. 
 Snap’s. I have not feen Mr. Golding "fince his re¬ 
 turn, and we fhould vifit out friends m their aiuic- 
 tion, you know—come along Mr. Capias! [Extunt. 
 
THE MAN OF BUSINESS. 6 5 
 Scene changes to a room in Snap’j hettfe. 
 
 Fable end Snap. 
 
 Fab. Every thing much to my fatisfuction ; no¬ 
 thing here to complain or, I allure you, Mr. 
 Snap. I never was more comfortably lodged in 
 my life, never wilh for better attendance, or more 
 convenient accommodation. 
 
 Snap. \Ve does all in our power to oblige com¬ 
 pany, fir.—No body can do no more, you know— 
 efpecially fuch as behaves like gentlemen, like your 
 honour, fir—for wc has them of all forts.—Within 
 this fortnight, there has been no lei's than four or 
 five different lodgers in this very apartment.—The 
 room is genteel enough for that matter.—Let me 
 fee, who was they r—An enfign in the guards ; a 
 poet-man from Little-Britain a Scotch actor- 
 man ; an old battered lady from Soho; and a 
 very fine yoting one from the New Buildings at 
 
 Marybone-that’s five'-and now we hate the 
 
 honour of your honour to make up the even half- 
 dozen, fir. 
 
 Fak I hope not to give you much trouble, Mr. 
 Snap. 
 
 Snap. No, no ; you knows you’ll foon be re¬ 
 lieved I dare fay, your honour. 
 
 Fab . Were-mv letters all delivered according to 
 the directions ? 
 
 Snap. Every one, fir; and the gentlefolks faj^| 
 they will beheie prefenriy.—I thinks I hears fome- 
 body at the dcor now.—Shall I fnew them up, fir ? 
 
 Fab. If you pleafe, Mr. Snap. 
 
 Snap. Perhaps, they chufes lkme rofrcfhment.— 
 I’ve fome fine dry fherry—• very good foi a whet in 
 the morning. 
 
 K Inter 
 
66 THE MAN OF BUSINESS. 
 
 ■ • Enter Tropick. 
 
 - Fab. Ha! my friend, I am happy to fee you 
 Mr. Snap, good morning to you. 
 
 Snap. Gentlemen, your fcrvant.—Shall I fend up 
 a bottle of white wine, or a bowl of punch, fir ? 
 
 Fab. Not at prelent, I thank you, Mr. Snap.— 
 If any body elle enquires for Mr. Golding, be lo 
 good as to fhew them up. 
 
 Snap. I will, fir.-Your fcrvant—Gentlemen, 
 
 your fervant, [Exit. 
 
 Mmnt Fable and Tropick. 
 
 Fab. This is kind, my friend. You little thought 
 of my defiring a vifit from you at this houfe, I be¬ 
 lieve. 
 
 T rep. Look ye, Fable, I don’t know what to 
 make of all this.—I don’t underfiand you.—You 
 mav be an honeft man, perhaps.—I hope you arc 
 an honefi man ; but you look very much like a 
 rogue at prefent, I can tell you.—Firfl of all, you 
 employ me in a damned ridiculous bufinefs, in 
 which I have made a curfed fool of myfelf—and 
 that is fcarce over, than in comes a note from you 
 at a fponging-houfe, defiring me to come there, but 
 not to afk for vou by your own name, What’s the 
 meaning of all this, mailer Fable ? 
 
 Fab. No harm, I allure you, friend. In regard 
 Jjo the bufinefs you mention, I meant to Bop your 
 *oing, if, unluckily, it had not been too late ; 
 and, as to vour not alking for me here by my own 
 name, Idefired ir, becanfe I am not here in n;v 
 own right, but as the reprefentativc of another 
 perfon. 
 
 Frop. Another perfon ! I underfiand you lefs and 
 Ids. V» hy, zouns, man, they can’t arreft people 
 
 Fab. 
 
THE MAN OF BUSINESS. 67 
 
 Fab. No; but they may bv miftakc; and.I have 
 humoured the miftake, in order to ferve the real 
 party, and punifli the rafcallv creditor. 
 
 Frop. Who is the real party ? and who is the 
 creditor ? 
 
 Fab. The writ was fued out again ft Mr. Gold¬ 
 ing, at the fuit of Mr. Denier. > I had but juft 
 fettled fome affairs very ellential to Mr. Golding’s 
 intereft ; and did not know of his return till the 
 moment I had placed him beyond danger. Com¬ 
 ing home, however, in the dufk of the evening, the 
 catchpoles lay in wait near the houfe, touched me 
 on the fhoulder, and prelented their authority. I 
 readily o'oeved, fubmitting to an arreft in the cha- 
 rafter of Mr. Golding, and glad of an opportunity 
 of expofing the falfe profeffions of a pretended 
 friend to the family. 
 
 Trop. Well, this feems right enough;—and yet, 
 fomchow, I don’t like it neither.—I don’t love turn¬ 
 ing and doubling.—I love to go ftrait forwards, 
 Mr. Fable, 
 
 Fab. The belt road will wind fometimcs, you 
 know. Have a little patience; we fhall foon be 
 at the end of our journey. 
 
 Enter Snap. 
 
 Snap. More company, fir.-Walk up, gentle¬ 
 
 men ; walk up, ladies. The flairs is a little dark; 
 but there’s no danger. 
 
 Golding, Mrs. Golding, Mrs. Carlton, Lydfcr, 
 and Beverley. 
 
 [Exit Snap. 
 
 Fab. Mr. Golding, I am happy to fee you re¬ 
 turned.—Ladies, you’re welcome.—Beverley, how 
 
 do you ?-Well, Mr. Golding, how do you 
 
 like niv new apartments ? 
 
 K 2 Loti ' 
 
68; THE MAN OF BUSINESS; 
 
 Gold, Like:—I like nothing I have feen of 
 heard of you fince my coming from the Indies; 
 Out of cloors, I hear, you have almoft made me a 
 bankrupt.—At home, I lind, you have made me a 
 fool. 
 
 Fab. How fo, Mr. Golding? 
 
 Gold. Have not.you made yourfelf this young 
 gentleman’s foie truftee and creditor ? 
 
 Fab. He has made me fo, I confefs. 
 
 Gold. And did not you perfuade him to it by a Can? 
 lerburv raleof letters from me, lodes in India, and 
 the devil.knows what, when you had no more au¬ 
 thority to talk of me, than of the pope or the great 
 mogul ? Had you any fuch letters from me ? 
 Anfwer me that, fir. 
 
 Fab. No, I had not. 
 
 Gold. I told you fo-And did you ever hear 
 
 that I had any Ioffes in India ? 
 
 Fab. Never. - . .. 
 
 Gold. There again!—Did not I tell you fo !~ 
 And what the plague did you mean by all thofe 
 falihoods and forgeries ? Eh, Mr. Fable ? . ■. 
 
 Fab. To ferve vpu, and maintain the credit of 
 the houfe. ... 
 
 Gold. And a very creditable way our affairs are 
 in, truly ! One moment I learn that you are our 
 iole creditor; and the next moment I find-that our 
 foie creditor is fo much' in debt himfeif, that he is 
 lodged in a fponging-houfe. 
 
 Fab. Very true; even fo, fir. 
 
 -rffrop. P’flia! plague of your cool blood! I can’t 
 bear it. V/hy does not the man fpeak out, and 
 telj the whole fiery ?—-Look ye, Mr. Golding» he 
 is a very honeft fellow ; and all he has. done wa$ 
 entirely for your fervicei 
 
 Gold. Oh ho, fir! Are you there, old Smoke-a T 
 pipe? 'VVhat, mv old friend, that eat curries and 
 jmoked fagars with me at Bengal.!—are you 
 come 
 
THE MAN OF BUSINESS. 6 9 
 
 come, again ?-Whefe’s the money I lent by 
 
 you ? 
 
 Trap. There, old Fable; you fee what-a pretty- 
 figure I have made. 
 
 Fab. Mr. Golding will foon know you better, 
 "and entertain a proper refpect for you. 
 
 . Gold. I am finely entertained by you both.. You 
 fpeak for him, and he vouches for you—and I don’t 
 know what to make of either of you. Bur, to come 
 to a right underftanding, be fo good as to tell me, 
 Mr. Fable, whether you did not receive a very large 
 remittance from India, :iri favour of this young 
 lady ? 
 
 Fab. I did. - 
 
 Gold. Very well.—You muft know then, fir,' 
 that her friends have appointed me joint-truftee, 
 with a power to pay the whole fum into her own 
 hands immediately. She has a prefent occafion for 
 it, and defires to receive it diredly. 
 
 Lyd. Ido, Ido, fir, in order to apply it for-the 
 relief of Mr. Beverley. 
 
 ■ Bev. Generous,' too generous Lydia ! . Ruin 
 fliould not prevail on me to touch a fingle doit of 
 it. 
 
 Gold. Pleafe to let us touch it, however, Mr, 
 Fable. 
 
 Fab.- Impoflible. ’ 
 
 Gold. Impoflible ! How fo > You received it 
 fafe—did hot you ? 
 
 Fab: I do not deny if. 
 
 Gold. Where is it then ) ' 
 
 Fab. Not in my hands at prefent; nor can I atW 
 yance any part of it within this fortnight or three 
 yveeks. 
 
 Gold. Three weeks!—We can’t flay three days, 
 pr three hours, fir. 
 
 My Lydia defrauded too !-—Confufion !. 
 
 l\Fs. Gar!. The child's money gone ! 
 
 ' Frep. 
 
7 o THE MAN OF BUSINESS. 
 
 Drop. What the plague ! Can’t you produce the 
 nronev, Fable ? - 
 
 Fab. I cannot, indeed, friend. 
 
 Frcp. Friend ! Don’t call me vour friend—I 
 am not your friend—never will be your friend— 
 never lpeak to you as long as I live. 
 
 Bev. Are thefc vour lelfons of moralitv, Mr. 
 Fable ? Have you reproached me for intemperate 
 indulgence of mv paflions, while you were vour- 
 felf pra&ifing deliberate villainy ? 
 
 Gold. Ah ! he has embezzled the monev, as 
 furc as I live —Who’s here, Mr. Denier!—Your 
 fervent, fir !— 
 
 Enter Denier and Capias. 
 
 Dm. Your’s, fir. I am forrv, Mr. Golding, to 
 have been reduced to the ncceffitv of taking lb dif- 
 agreeablc a Hep as this mav appear to vou. 
 
 Gold. Dilagrecable ? not in the leaft diiagreeable ; 
 I take it rather kind of you, and I am very glad to 
 lee you. 
 
 Dm. I am happv to find you confider the mat¬ 
 ter lb fairly. I had rather have avoided it; but 
 being adviled that it would elTentiallv promote mv 
 intereil, and not affect your own, I hope you will 
 excufe it, and indeed rejoice at an opportunity of 
 giving a preference to a friend, inliead of in¬ 
 volving him with vour common acquaintance. 
 
 Gold. Hev-day! What now - Have I loll my 
 femes, or every body about me loll theirs ? I don’t 
 underfiand a word you lav, what you mean, or 
 what vou drive at. 
 
 Cap. My client refers to the bill of Middldex, 
 taken out againlh vou, and ferved on vou vefierday 
 evening, under which vou were arrelftd, and are 
 now in Mr. Snap’s cu'rodv. 
 
 Gold. I arretted !—Where is Mr. Snap ■ Here, 
 houie! 
 
 Enter 
 
71 
 
 THE MAN. OF BUSINESS. 
 
 ; ■ ■ ' Enter. .Snap. 
 
 Snap. Did your honour call, fir ? 
 
 , Gold. .Pray Mr. Snap, did you arreft me laft 
 night r—Did you ferve any ‘writ upon me, Mr. 
 Snap ? _ • : . : • ■ 
 
 . Snap. Not I, fir !—not upon your honour—I 
 arrefted Mr. Golding; - 
 
 Gold. Mr. Golding!—So it feems I am sot 
 come to myfelf again 'yet -then !—You, Mr. Sagar, 
 'Bid you-help to ferve-the-writ, friend? (to Tro- 
 pick.) 
 
 Den. ’Sdeath, Mr. Capias, there -feems to be 
 ibme miftake here. 
 
 Cap. Truly there doth appear to have been.a 
 wrongful arreft.. 
 
 Snap. Not at all, fir.—I knows Mr. Golding 
 well enough.—There he Hands! ( pointing to Fable) 
 I (hewed him the writ, and he came along with me 
 at once. Did not you, fir ? , • 
 
 Fab. I did.—I fubmitted to go with you, think¬ 
 ing it might be of fervice to my friend, and a pu- 
 nifliment to his falfe-hearted creditor. 
 
 Trap. This adtion looks honeftly of old Fable, 
 after-all—and yet the-money—I don’t know what 
 to make of him. 
 
 Gold. Nor I neither. . 
 
 Bev. But Denier’s treachery ! I could not have 
 believed it! 
 
 Gold. No to be lure! but you (hall hear of it, 
 fir, (to Denier) and to your eoft too, I promife 
 you ! I’ll fue you for damages, and Mr. Fable (hall 
 bring his adtion for falle imprifonment—we’il 
 pu'nifh you. 
 
 ■ Den. Indeed ! it is time to look about me then 
 —But you had beft have let the bufincls deep— 
 I have my revenge in my own hands, I allure you 
 ■■—I have a littie pacquet here— 
 
 Gold 
 
72 THE MAN OF BUSINESS. 
 
 Gold. Well! what of that, fir ? 
 
 Den. Nay, nothing—only a little news from 
 Bengal. 
 
 Gold. Eh! 
 
 Den. Very interefting to a certain lady, not a 
 hundred miles from this place at prelenr. 
 
 {Looking at Mrs. Golding. 
 
 Mrs. Gold. How! what’s this ? 
 
 Fab. What docs he drive at ? 
 
 Gold. I wifh he’d be quiet. 
 
 Den. When you have perufed this letter, Mrs, 
 Golding— 
 
 Mrs. Gold. Well, fir! 
 
 Den. You will find, madam—* 
 
 Gold. Don’t believe a word he fays! 
 
 Mrs. Gold. You won’t let me hear what he 
 fays. 
 
 Den. Poor gentleman! his fears overcome him. 
 But I’ll put him out of his pain in an inltanr. 
 This letter, madam, arrived it feems by the fame 
 Ihips with Mr. Golding, and will inform you, ma¬ 
 dam, that this grave old gentleman has had a con¬ 
 nexion in India with another lady— 
 
 Mrs. Gold. My lmfband ! 
 
 Gold, {aftde.) Oh plague! I’m betray’d, blown,- 
 and undone! 
 
 Den. That this young lady is no other than his- 
 daughter— 
 
 Mrs. Gold. Lydia! 
 
 Den. That my corrcfpondent in India, who is 
 his friend, configned her to my family, knowing 
 our connection and acquaintance with your own— 
 and that Mr. Golding himfelf forwarded the late 
 remittance in her favour, meaning, to give a co¬ 
 lour to an intention he had formed of marrying 
 Mils Lydia to Beverley—All thefe circumtlances 
 my corrcfpondent refers to, as things of courfe in 
 
THE MAN OF BUSINESS. 73 
 his letter, thinking that Mr. Golding had no ob¬ 
 jection to my being acquainted with them. Read, 
 read, madam I _ [Gives the Letter. 
 
 Geld. ( aftde ) Dead and buried ! I wilh I was at 
 Bengal now, or in the black hole at Calcutta ! 
 
 Fab. And fo this latt confidence, like every 
 other, you -have betrayed, fir. Is this your vin¬ 
 dication:? 
 
 Ben. No, but my revenge, fir, extorted from 
 me by great provocation—Before you open an ac¬ 
 count againft me, fee that you are able to nnfwer 
 all my demands upon you. Take care of the 
 main chance—As to your adtion at Law, my friend 
 Capias here knows I may defpife it. If the 
 officer has made a falle arreft, let the officer an- 
 fwer it.—I have no concern but to take care of 
 myfelf you know ; fo come along Mr. Capias! 
 
 Cap. I attend you, fir. [Ex. Denier and Capias. 
 
 Bev. Fool that I have been ! falfe as my other 
 friends appeared, I Bill repaled an entire confidence 
 ip his fidelity. 
 
 Fab. Sordid, execrable, narrow-minded rafcal! 
 
 Mrs. Gold. Here’s bafenefs and treachery ! ( after 
 reading the letter ) Was ever any thing fo fcanda- 
 lous ! Concealed children, intrigues in India, and 
 ladies in a corner! 
 
 Bev. Well, but Mrs. 'Golding— 
 
 Mrs. Gold. When he is at home with his fa¬ 
 mily, he is as grave, and dry, and fober as a judge, 
 forfooth! and yet when he gets abroad he can be 
 as gay, and as prodigal, as a young nobleman jult 
 come to his title and eftate. 
 
 Fab. He may have been to blame, madam: 
 but— 
 
 Mrs. Gold. To blame, Mr. Fable! What! theft 
 were his India voyages then ! this was his bufinefs 
 at Bengal ! thefe were his large remittances truly ! 
 fnuandering his fortune, and what was mv right, 
 L ' Mr. 
 
74 THE MAN OF BUSINESS. 
 
 Fir. Fable, upon kept madams, Eaftern princeffes, 
 black-a-moor harlots, and natural children ! 
 
 Mrs. Carlt. Nay—don’t fay that, Mrs. Gold- 
 ins;! Mils Lydia was born in lawful wedlock, I 
 allure you, madam. 
 
 Mrs. Gold. What! has he got two wives then ? 
 
 Mrs. Carlt. No—dear me, madam—Mifs Ly¬ 
 dia’s mother was dead and buried before his mar¬ 
 riage with you, madam. 
 
 Bev. My Lydia’s uneafinefs is infupportabie. 
 Shock her no further I befeech you, madam ! 
 
 Mrs. Gold. Do you think I have been well 
 treated, fir? 
 
 Bev. The ftory is but new to me, madam ; but 
 the main particular is Mr. Golding’s firlt marriage, 
 which, I apprehend, has been kept fecret merely 
 from the notion of its being difagreeable to your 
 family. 
 
 Mrs. Gold. And is this the cafe, fir ? 
 
 Gold. It is indeed—no further harm, I allure 
 vou—1 Hi on Id have mentioned the affair to be fure 
 —but— 
 
 Enter Snap. 
 
 Snap. Here’s one mufter Check below axes for 
 one mufter Fable. 
 
 Fab. Oh, defire him to walk up, fir; — Now 
 fet your heart at reft about my conduft, friend. 
 
 Trap. You muft make all matters clear then : 
 for at prefent I don’t half underftand you. 
 
 Fab. Here comes an interpreter. 
 
 Enter Check. 
 
 Well Check, have you fettled the bufinefs ? 
 
 Check. I have, fir. Mr. Beverley’s differences 
 are all paid. I have acquittances from the parties, 
 and the whole account is doled, fir. 
 
 Bev. Amazement! 
 
 Cold. 
 
THE MAN OF BUSINESS. 75 
 
 Cold. What is the money gone that way then ? 
 None of it embezzled ! Eh, Check! 
 
 Check. Embezzled ? Heaven blefs your honour! 
 he has made free to borrow the money left in his 
 hands indeed: but then he has applied all that 
 he could command of his own into the bargain. 
 Embezzled indeed! No, no, Mr. Fable cheats no¬ 
 body but himfelf, fir. 
 
 Fab. Every particular, Mr. Golding, I am ready 
 to explain. I fliall fay nothing in vindication or 
 apology for my conduft. The motives on which 
 I have afted are obvious. 
 
 Trap. So they are—fo they are friend!—Give 
 me your hand, old Fable ! give me your hand ! I 
 fee you are an honed fellow at laft, and I am not 
 alhamed to acknowledge you. 
 
 Gold. And I am much obliged to you ! I have 
 enough and more than enough, to (land the Ihock 
 of our affairs, repay you with intereft, and efta- 
 blifh our credit; for, thank heaven, I have been 
 employing my time abroad better than my young 
 partner has done at home. 
 
 Mrs. Gold. Oh you have been very finely em¬ 
 ployed to be lure ! 
 
 Fab . Come, come, this fhould be a day of ge¬ 
 neral happinefs; as an infiance of your univerlal 
 good opinion of me, let me have influence enough 
 to make peace between Mr. and Mrs. Golding; 
 and as an earned of their reconciliation, let them 
 give their joint confent to unite Lydia and Beverley, 
 and ratify their happinefs! 
 
 Bii\ Mrs. Golding !—fir! 
 
 Mrs. Gold. What fays her fine papa to it ? 
 
 Gold. Why, if Lydia- 
 
 Mrs. Carl. Heaven blefs her, fhe doats on him. 
 
 Lyd. Yes, I will own, my dear father, that the 
 change in Mr. Beverley has removed the only ob¬ 
 jection that I could ever make to him; and I will 
 
7 & THE MAN OF BUSINESS, 
 not hlirffi to confefs that the future happinefs of 
 my life depends on him. 
 
 Fak. Then every thing is adjufted. I give you 
 joy, mi’ friends. 
 
 Trip. And I give you joy too. You have puz¬ 
 zled me confoundedly, I confefs—I faid you- were 
 an honeft fellow—I knew you were an honeft fel¬ 
 low at bottom—but it was a damned long way to 
 the bottom for all that, old Fable. 
 
 Fab. Mv conduct has been mylterious, I con¬ 
 fefs, friend—perhaps,'in fome degree culpably fo 
 ■—but whenever I puzzled you, be allured I no 
 lets embarrafled myfelf. The lead deviation from 
 the ilrait path is attended with difficulties; and 
 though I have abvavs meant honeftly, and thought 
 1 acted uprightly, I have had ample reafon ro e.v- 
 peri-'nce rhe convenience and r.cceffity, as well as 
 
 i: n D. 
 
E P I L O G t) E. 
 
 Spoken by Mrs. BULKLEY*. 
 
 W HEN plays are o’er, by Epilogue we’re able. 
 Thro’ moral ftrainers, to refine the fable ; 
 Again the field of comedy to glean 
 From what the author did, or did not mean ; 
 
 Or, in a gayer mood, on malice bent. 
 
 Quite top/y-turvy turn the bard’s intent. 
 
 Shall we, ye criticks, to night’s play deride ? 
 
 Or fliall we, ladies, take the milder fide t 
 Suppofe for once we leave the beaten road. 
 
 And try, by turns, the harfli and gentle mode; 
 
 A kind of critick country-dance beg'm j 
 Eight hand and left, crofs over, figure in 1 
 
 The critick firft ftrikes off, condemns each fcene. 
 The tale, the bard, and-thus he vents his fpleen : 
 
 “ While books lie open on each mouldy flail. 
 
 Bills plaifter polls, fongs paper ev’ry wall;, 
 
 At ev’ry corner hungry minds may feed, 
 
 \ » r ifdom cries out, and he that runs may read. 
 
 On learned alms were playwrights ever fed, 
 
 And' fcraps of poetry their daily bread. 
 
 Ev’n Shakcfpearc would unthread the novel's maze, 
 Or build on penny hiftories his plays. 
 
 From paltry ballads Rowe extracted Shore, 
 
 Which lay like metal buried in the ore. 
 
 To jump at once to bards of later days, 
 
 What are the riff-raff of our modern plays ? 
 
 Their 
 
EPILOGUE. 
 
 Their native dulnefs all in books intrench; 
 
 Mere fcavengers of Latin, Greek, and French, 
 
 Sweep up the learned rubbilh, dirt, and dull, 
 
 Or from old iron try to file the ruft. 
 
 Give me the bard whofe fiery difpofition 
 Quickens at once, and learns by intuition j 
 Lifts up his head to think, and, in a minute. 
 
 Ideas make a hurly-burly in it; 
 
 Struggling for paflage, there ferment and bubble, 
 
 And thence run over without further trouble j 
 Till out comes play or poem, as they feign 
 Minerva iflued from her father’s brain! 
 
 Be all original—ftruck out at once ; 
 
 Who borrows, toils, or labours, is a dunce : 
 
 Genius, alas! is at the loweft ebb; 
 
 And none, like fpiders, fpin their own fine web. 
 
 What wonder, if with forne fuccel's they ftrive 
 With wax and honey to enrich the hive, 
 
 If all within their compafs they devour, 
 
 And, like the bee, fteal fweets from ev’ry flower? 
 
 Old books, old plays, old thoughts will never do: 
 Originals for me, and fomething new !” 
 
 “ New? (cries the lady) Pr’ythee, man, have done ! 
 We know there’s nothing new beneath the fun. 
 Weave, like thefpider, from your proper brains, 
 
 And take at laft a cobweb for your pains ! 
 
 What is invention ? ’Tis not thoughts innate; 
 
 Each head at firfl: is but an empty pate. 
 
 ’Tis but retailing from a wealthy hoard 
 The thoughts which obfervation long has ftor’d, 
 Combining images with lucky hit, 
 
 Which fenfe and education firft admit; 
 
 W T h» 
 
EPILOGUE. 
 
 Who, borrowing little from the common ftore, 
 Mends what he takes, and from his own adds more, 
 He is original j or infpiration 
 Never fill’d bard of this, or other nation, 
 
 And Shakefpeare’s art is meiely imitation, 
 
 For ’tis a truth long prov’d beyond all doubt, 
 Where nothing’s in, there’s nothing can come out. 
 
 Modes oft may change, and old give way to new. 
 Or vary betwixt London and Peru ; 
 
 Yet here, and every where, the general frame 
 Of nature and of man is ftill the fame : 
 
 Huge ruffs and farthingales are out of fafhion ; 
 
 But ftill the human heart’s the feat of paffion: 
 And he may boaft his genius ftands the teft, 
 
 Who paints our paflions and our humours beft, 
 Cenfure not all; to praife let all afpire j 
 For emulation fans the poet’s fire. 
 
 Put not one grand extinguifher on plays; 
 
 But with kind fnuffers gently mend their blaze, 
 While other licenc’d lotteries prevail. 
 
 Our bard, by ticklilh lottery, tempts a fale, 
 
 Prints the particulars of his Mufaeum, 
 
 And boldly calls the publick in to fee ’em: 
 
 Their calculation muft his fate reveal. 
 
 Who ventures all in the dramatick wheel. 
 
 FINIS. 
 
Written by Mr. Colmar,: and printed'/,for 
 T. Becket. 
 
 i; The Jealous Wife, a Comedy, is. 6d.. 
 
 2. The Clandefiine Marriage, a Comedy, Price is. 6d. . 
 
 3. The Englilh Merchant, a Comedy, is. 6d. 
 
 4. Man and Wife, a Comedy, is. (id. ; . . 
 
 5; Polly Hpneycpmhe, a Farce, is,-. . .. 1 
 
 6. The Mulical Lady, a Farce, is. 
 
 7. The Brace is in him, a Fayce, is. 
 
 5. The Oxonian in Town, a Farce/ isi 
 
 9. The Fairy Prince, a jilalque, is. 
 
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 Cokhanalfo a Preface, and the Life of Terence; ■il- y 
 luflrated wkh.Cuts ; the feccnd-Edition, revifed .and 
 corre&di'z'Vols.’^vo. j2s. bojind. . - 
 
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