SCENE I. _Sir George Touchwood_'s.

_Enter_ Doricourt _and_ Sir George.

_Doricourt._

Married, ha! ha! ha! you, whom I heard in Paris say such things of the sex, are in London a married man.

_Sir Geo._ The sex is still what it has ever been since _la petite morale_ banished substantial virtues; and rather than have given my name to one of your high-bred fashionable dames, I'd have crossed the line in a fire-ship, and married a Japanese.

_Doric._ Yet you have married an English beauty, yea, and a beauty born in high life.

_Sir Geo._ True; but she has a simplicity of heart and manners, that would have become the fair Hebrew damsels toasted by the Patriarchs.

_Doric._ Ha! ha! Why, thou art a downright matrimonial Quixote. My life on't, she becomes as mere a Town Lady in six months as though she had been bred to the trade.

_Sir Geo._ Common--common--(_contemptuously_). No, Sir, Lady Frances despises high life so much from the ideas I have given her, that she'll live in it like a salamander in fire.

_Doric._ Oh, that the circle _dans la place Victoire_ could witness thy extravagance! I'll send thee off to St. Evreux this night, drawn at full length, and coloured after nature.

_Sir Geo._ Tell him then, to add to the ridicule, that Touchwood glories in the name of Husband; that he has found in one Englishwoman more beauty than Frenchmen ever saw, and more goodness than Frenchwomen can conceive.

_Doric._ Well--enough of description. Introduce me to this phœnix; I came on purpose.

_Sir Geo._ Introduce!--oh, aye, to be sure--I believe Lady Frances is engaged just now--but another time. How handsome the dog looks to-day! _Aside._

_Doric._ Another time!--but I have no other time. 'Sdeath! this is the only hour I can command this fortnight!

_Sir Geo._ [_Aside._ I am glad to hear it, with all my soul.] So then, you can't dine with us to-day? That's very unlucky.

_Doric._ Oh, yes--as to dinner--yes, I can, I believe, contrive to dine with you to-day.

_Sir Geo._ Psha! I didn't think on what I was saying; I meant supper.--You can't sup with us?

_Doric._ Why, supper will be rather more convenient than dinner.--But you are fortunate--if you had ask'd me any other night, I could not have come.

_Sir Geo._ To-night!--Gad, now I recollect, we are particularly engaged to-night.--But to-morrow night--

_Doric._ Why look ye, Sir George, 'tis very plain you have no inclination to let me see your wife at all; so here I sit (_throws himself on a sopha._)--There's my hat, and here are my legs.--Now I sha'n't stir till I have seen her; and I have no engagements: I'll breakfast, dine, and sup with you every day this week.

_Sir Geo._ Was there ever such a provoking wretch! But, to be plain with you, Doricourt, I and my house are at your service: but you are a damn'd agreeable fellow, and ten years younger than I am; and the women, I observe, always simper when you appear. For these reasons, I had rather, when Lady Frances and I are together, that you should forget we are acquainted, further than a nod, a smile, or a how-d'ye.

_Doric._ Very well.

_Sir Geo._ It is not merely yourself in _propriâ personâ_ that I object to; but, if you are intimate here, you'll make my house still more the fashion than it is; and it is already so much so, that my doors are of no use to me. I married Lady Frances to engross her to myself; yet such is the blessed freedom of modern manners, that, in spite of me, her eyes, thoughts, and conversation, are continually divided amongst all the Flirts and Coxcombs of Fashion.

_Doric._ To be sure, I confess that kind of freedom is carried rather too far. 'Tis hard one can't have a jewel in one's cabinet, but the whole town must be gratified with its lustre. He sha'n't preach me out of seeing his wife, though. _Aside._

_Sir Geo._ Well, now, that's reasonable. When you take time to reflect, Doricourt, I always observe you decide right, and therefore I hope----

_Enter Servant._

_Serv._ Sir, my Lady desires----

_Sir Geo._ I am particularly engaged.

_Doric._ Oh, Lord, that shall be no excuse in the world (_leaping from the sopha_). Lead the way, John.--I'll attend your Lady. [_Exit, following the Servant._

_Sir Geo._ What devil possessed me to talk about her!--Here, Doricourt! (_Running after him._) Doricourt!

_Enter_ Mrs. Racket, _and_ Miss Ogle, _followed by a Servant_.

_Mrs. Rack._ Acquaint your Lady, that Mrs. Racket, and Miss Ogle, are here. [_Exit_ Servant.

_Miss Ogle._ I shall hardly know Lady Frances, 'tis so long since I was in Shropshire.

_Mrs. Rack._ And I'll be sworn you never saw her _out_ of Shropshire.--Her father kept her locked up with his Caterpillars and Shells; and loved her beyond any thing--but a blue Butterfly, and a petrified Frog!

_Miss Ogle._ Ha! ha! ha!--Well, 'twas a cheap way of breeding her:--you know he was very poor, though a Lord; and very high-spirited, though a Virtuoso.--In town, her Pantheons, Operas, and Robes de Cour, would have swallowed his Sea-Weeds, Moths, and Monsters, in six weeks!--Sir George, I find, thinks his Wife a most extraordinary creature: he has taught her to despise every thing like Fashionable Life, and boasts that example will have no effect on her.

_Mrs. Rack._ There's a great degree of impertinence in all that--I'll try to make her a Fine Lady, to humble him.

_Miss Ogle._ That's just the thing I wish.

_Enter Lady_ Frances.

_Lady Fran._ I beg ten thousand pardons, my dear Mrs. Racket.--Miss Ogle, I rejoice to see you: I should have come to you sooner, but I was detained in conversation by Mr. Doricourt.

_Mrs. Rack._ Pray make no apology; I am quite happy that we have your Ladyship in town at last.--What stay do you make?

_Lady Fran._ A short one! Sir George talks with regret of the scenes we have left; and as the ceremony of presentation is over, will, I believe, soon return.

_Miss Ogle._ Sure he can't be so cruel! Does your Ladyship wish to return so soon?

_Lady Fran._ I have not the habit of consulting my own wishes; but, I think, if they decide, we shall not return immediately. I have yet hardly form'd an idea of London.

_Mrs. Rack._ I shall quarrel with your Lord and Master, if he dares think of depriving us of you so soon. How do you dispose of yourself to-day?

_Lady Fran._ Sir George is going with me this morning to the mercer's, to chuse a silk; and then----

_Mrs. Rack._ Chuse a silk for you! ha! ha! ha! Sir George chuses your laces too, I hope; your gloves, and your pincushions!

_Lady Fran._ Madam!

_Mrs. Rack._ I am glad to see you blush, my dear Lady Frances. These are strange homespun ways! If you do these things, pray keep 'em secret. Lord bless us! If the Town should know your husband chuses your gowns!

_Miss Ogle._ You are very young, my Lady, and have been brought up in solitude. The maxims you learnt among the Wood-Nymphs in Shropshire, won't pass current here, I assure you.

_Mrs. Rack._ Why, my dear creature, you look quite frighten'd!--Come, you shall go with us to an Exhibition, and an Auction.--Afterwards, we'll take a turn in the Park, and then drive to Kensington;--so we shall be at home by four, to dress; and in the evening I'll attend you to Lady Brilliant's masquerade.

_Lady Fran._ I shall be very happy to be of your party, if Sir George has no engagements.

_Mrs. Rack._ What! Do you stand so low in your own opinion, that you dare not trust yourself without Sir George! If you chuse to play Darby and Joan, my dear, you should have stay'd in the country;--'tis an Exhibition not calculated for London, I assure you!

_Miss Ogle._ What I suppose, my Lady, you and Sir George, will be seen pacing it comfortably round the Canal, arm and arm, and then go lovingly into the same carriage;--dine _tête-à-tête_, spend the evening at Picquet, and so go soberly to bed at Eleven!--Such a snug plan may do for an Attorney and his Wife; but, for Lady Frances Touchwood, 'tis as unsuitable as linsey-woolsey, or a black bonnet at the _Festino_!

_Lady Fran._ These are rather new doctrines to me!--But, my dear Mrs. Racket, you and Miss Ogle must judge of these things better than I can. As you observe, I am but young, and may have caught absurd opinions.--Here is Sir George!

_Enter Sir_ George.

_Sir Geo._ (_Aside._) 'Sdeath! another room full!

_Lady Fran._ My love! Mrs. Racket, and Miss Ogle.

_Mrs. Rack._ Give you joy, Sir George.--We came to rob you of Lady Frances for a few hours.

_Sir Geo._ A few hours!

_Lady Fran._ Oh, yes! I am going to an Exhibition, and an Auction, and the Park, and Kensington, and a thousand places!--It is quite ridiculous, I find, for married people to be always together--We shall be laughed at!

_Sir Geo._ I am astonished!--Mrs. Racket, what does the dear creature mean?

_Mrs. Rack._ Mean, Sir George!--what she says, I imagine.

_Miss Ogle._ Why, you know, Sir, as Lady Frances had the misfortune to be bred entirely in the Country, she cannot be supposed to be versed in Fashionable Life.

_Sir Geo._ No; heaven forbid she should!--If she had, Madam, she would never have been my Wife!

_Mrs. Rack._ Are you serious?

_Sir Geo._ Perfectly so.--I should never have had the courage to have married a well-bred Fine Lady.

_Miss Ogle._ Pray, Sir, what do you take a Fine Lady to be, that you express such fear of her? (_sneeringly._)

_Sir Geo._ A being easily described, Madam, as she is seen every where, but in her own house. She sleeps at home, but she lives all over the town. In her mind, every sentiment gives place to the Lust of Conquest, and the vanity of being particular. The feelings of Wife, and Mother, are lost in the whirl of dissipation. If she continues virtuous, 'tis by chance--and if she preserves her Husband from ruin, 'tis by her dexterity at the Card-Table!--Such a Woman I take to be a perfect Fine Lady!

_Mrs. Rack._ And you I take to be a slanderous Cynic of two-and-thirty.--Twenty years hence, one might have forgiven such a libel!--Now, Sir, hear my definition of a Fine Lady:--She is a creature for whom Nature has done much, and Education more; she has Taste, Elegance, Spirit, Understanding. In her manner she is free, in her morals nice. Her behaviour is undistinguishingly polite to her Husband, and all mankind;--her sentiments are for their hours of retirement. In a word, a Fine Lady is the life of conversation, the spirit of society, the joy of the public!--Pleasure follows where ever she appears, and the kindest wishes attend her slumbers.--Make haste, then, my dear Lady Frances, commence Fine Lady, and force your Husband to acknowledge the justness of my picture!

_Lady Fran._ I am sure 'tis a delightful one. How can you dislike it, Sir George? You painted Fashionable Life in colours so disgusting, that I thought I hated it; but, on a nearer view, it seems charming. I have hitherto lived in obscurity; 'tis time that I should be a Woman of the World. I long to begin;--my heart pants with expectation and delight!

_Mrs. Rack._ Come, then; let us begin directly. I am inpatient to introduce you to that Society, which you were born to ornament and charm.

_Lady Fran._ Adieu! my Love!--We shall meet again at dinner. (_Going._)

_Sir Geo._ Sure, I am in a dream!--Fanny!

_Lady Fran._ (_returning_) Sir George?

_Sir Geo._ Will you go without me?

_Mrs. Rack._ Will you go without me!--ha! ha! ha! what a pathetic address! Why, sure you would not always be seen side by side, like two beans upon a stalk. Are you afraid to trust Lady Frances with me, Sir?

_Sir George._ Heaven and earth! with whom can a man trust his wife, in the present state of society? Formerly there were distinctions of character amongst ye: every class of females had its particular description; Grandmothers were pious, Aunts, discreet, Old Maids censorious! but now aunts, grandmothers, girls, and maiden gentlewomen, are all the same creature;--a wrinkle more or less is the sole difference between ye.

_Mrs. Rack._ That Maiden Gentlewomen have lost their censoriousness, is surely not in your catalogue of grievances.

_Sir Geo._ Indeed it is--and ranked amongst the most serious grievances.--Things went well, Madam, when the tongues of three or four old Virgins kept all the Wives and Daughters of a parish in awe. They were the Dragons that guarded the Hesperian fruit; and I wonder they have not been oblig'd, by act of parliament, to resume their function.

_Mrs. Rack._ Ha! ha! ha! and pension'd, I suppose, for making strict enquiries into the lives and conversations of their neighbours.

_Sir Geo._ With all my heart, and impowered to oblige every woman to conform her conduct to her real situation. You, for instance, are a Widow: your air should be sedate, your dress grave, your deportment matronly, and in all things an example to the young women growing up about you!--instead of which, you are dress'd for conquest, think of nothing but ensnaring hearts; are a Coquette, a Wit, and a Fine Lady.

_Mrs. Rack._ Bear witness to what he says! A Coquette! a Wit! and a Fine Lady! Who would have expected an eulogy from such an ill-natur'd mortal!--Valour to a Soldier, Wisdom to a Judge, or glory to a Prince, is not more than such a character to a Woman.

_Miss Ogle._ Sir George, I see, languishes for the charming society of a century and a half ago; when a grave 'Squire, and a still graver Dame, surrounded by a sober family, form'd a stiff groupe in a mouldy old house in the corner of a Park.

_Mrs. Rack._ Delightful serenity! Undisturb'd by any noise but the cawing of rooks, and the quarterly rumbling of an old family-coach on a state-visit; with the happy intervention of a friendly call from the Parish Apothecary, or the Curate's Wife.

_Sir Geo._ And what is the society of which you boast?--a meer chaos, in which all distinction of rank is lost in a ridiculous affectation of ease, and every different order of beings huddled together, as they were before the creation. In the same _select party_, you will often find the wife of a Bishop and a Sharper, of an Earl and a Fidler. In short, 'tis one universal masquerade, all disguised in the same habits and manners.

_Serv._ Mr. Flutter. [_Exit_ Servant.

_Sir Geo._ Here comes an illustration. Now I defy you to tell from his appearance, whether Flutter is a Privy Counsellor or a Mercer, a Lawyer, or a Grocer's 'Prentice.

_Enter_ Flutter.

_Flut._ Oh, just which you please, Sir George; so you don't make me a Lord Mayor. Ah, Mrs. Racket!----Lady Frances, your most obedient; you look--now hang me, if that's not provoking!--had your gown been of another colour, I would have said the prettiest thing you ever heard in your life.

_Miss Ogle._ Pray give it us.

_Flut._ I was yesterday at Mrs. Bloomer's. She was dress'd all in green; no other colour to be seen but that of her face and bosom. So says I, My dear Mrs. Bloomer! you look like a Carnation, just bursting from its pod.

_Sir Geo._ And what said her Husband?

_Flut._ Her Husband! Why, her Husband laugh'd, and said a Cucumber would have been a happier simile.

_Sir Geo._ But there _are_ Husbands, Sir, who would rather have corrected than amended your comparison; I, for instance, should consider a man's complimenting my Wife as an impertinence.

_Flut._ Why, what harm can there be in compliments? Sure they are not infectious; and, if they were, you, Sir George, of all people breathing, have reason to be satisfied about your Lady's attachment; every body talks of it: that little Bird there, that she killed out of jealousy, the most extraordinary instance of affection, that ever was given.

_Lady Fran._ I kill a Bird through jealousy!--Heavens! Mr. Flutter, how can you impute such a cruelty to me?

_Sir Geo._ I could have forgiven you, if you had.

_Flut._ Oh, what a blundering Fool!--No, no--now I remember--'twas your Bird, Lady Frances--that's it; your Bullfinch, which Sir George, in one of the refinements of his passion, sent into the wide world to seek its fortune.--He took it for a Knight in disguise.

_Lady Fran._ Is it possible! O, Sir George, could I have imagin'd it was you who depriv'd me of a creature I was so fond of?

_Sir Geo._ Mr. Flutter, you are one of those busy, idle, meddling people, who, from mere vacuity of mind, are, the most dangerous inmates in a family. You have neither feelings nor opinions of your own; but, like a glass in a tavern, bear about those of every Blockhead, who gives you his;--and, because you _mean_ no harm, think yourselves excus'd, though broken friendships, discords, and murders, are the consequences of your indiscretions.

_Flut._ (_taking out his Tablets_) Vacuity of Mind!--What was the next? I'll write down this sermon; 'tis the first I have heard since my Grandmother's funeral.

_Miss Ogle._ Come, Lady Frances, you see what a cruel creature your loving Husband can be; so let us leave him.

_Sir Geo._ Madam, Lady Frances shall not go.

_Lady Fran. Shall_ not, Sir George?--This is the first time such an expression--(_weeping_)

_Sir Geo._ My love! my life!

_Lady Fran._ Don't imagine I'll be treated like a Child! denied what I wish, and then pacified with sweet words.

_Miss Ogle_ (_apart_). The Bullfinch! that's an excellent subject; never let it down.

_Lady Fran._ I see plainly you would deprive me of every pleasure, as well as of my sweet Bird--out of pure love!--Barbarous Man!

_Sir Geo._ 'Tis well, Madam;--your resentment of that circumstance proves to me, what I did not before suspect, that you are deficient both in tenderness and understanding.--Tremble to think the hour approaches, in which you would give worlds for such a proof of my love. Go, Madam, give yourself to the Public; abandon your heart to dissipation, and see if, in the scenes of gaiety and folly that await you, you can find a recompence for the lost affection of a doating Husband. [_Exit_ Sir George.

_Flut._ Lord! what a fine thing it is to have the gift of Speech! I suppose Sir George practises at Coachmakers-hall, or the Black-horse in Bond-street.

_Lady Fran._ He is really angry; I cannot go.

_Mrs. Rack._ Not go! Foolish Creature! you are arrived at the moment, which some time or other was sure to happen; and everything depends on the use you make of it.

_Miss Ogle._ Come, Lady Frances! don't hesitate!--the minutes are precious.

_Lady Fran._ I could find in my heart!--and yet I won't give up neither.--If I should in this instance, he'll expect it for ever.

[_Exeunt Lady_ Frances, _and Mrs._ Racket.

_Miss Ogle._ Now you act like a Woman of Spirit.

[_Exeunt Miss_ Ogle, _and Mrs._ Racket.

_Flut._ A fair tug, by Jupiter--between Duty and Pleasure!--Pleasure beats, and off we go, _Iö triumphe_! [_Exit_ Flutter.

_Scene changes to an Auction Room.--Busts, Pictures, &c. &c._

_Enter_ Silvertongue _with three Puffers_.

_Silv._ Very well,--very well.--This morning will be devoted to curiosity; my sale begins to-morrow at eleven. But, Mrs. Fagg, if you do no better than you did in Lord Fillagree's sale, I shall discharge you.--You want a knack terribly: and this dress--why, nobody can mistake you for a Gentlewoman.

_Fag._ Very true, Mr. Silvertongue; but I can't dress like a Lady upon Half-a-crown a day, as the saying is.--If you want me to dress like a Lady, you must double my pay.----Double or quits, Mr. Silvertongue.

_Silv._----_Five Shillings_ a day! what a demand! Why, Woman, there are a thousand Parsons in the town, who don't make Five Shillings a day; though they preach, pray, christen, marry, and bury, for the Good of the Community.--Five Shillings a day!--why, 'tis the pay of a Lieutenant in a marching Regiment, who keeps a Servant, a Mistress, a Horse; fights, dresses, ogles, makes love, and dies upon Five Shillings a day.

_Fag._ Oh, as to that, all that's very right. A Soldier should not be too fond of life; and forcing him to do all these things upon Five Shillings a day, is the readiest way to make him tir'd on't.

_Silv._ Well, Mask, have you been looking into the Antiquaries?--have you got all the terms of art in a string--aye?

_Mask._ Yes, I have: I know the Age of a Coin by the taste; and can fix the Birth-day of a Medal, _Anno Mundi_ or _Anno Domini_, though the green rust should have eaten up every character. But you know, the brown suit and the wig I wear when I personate the Antiquary, are in Limbo.

_Silv._ Those you have on, may do.

_Mask._ These!--Why, in these I am a young travell'd _Cognoscento_: Mr. Glib bought them of Sir Tom Totter's Valet; and I am going there directly. You know his Picture-Sale comes on to-day; and I have got my head full of Parmegiano, Sal Rosa, Metzu, Tarbaek, and Vandermeer. I talk of the relief of Woovermans, the spirit of Teniers, the colouring of the Venetian School, and the correctness of the Roman. I distinguish Claude by his Sleep, and Ruysdael by his Water. The rapidity of Tintoret's pencil strikes me at the first glance; whilst the harmony of Vandyk, and the glow of Correggio, point out their Masters.

_Enter Company._

_1st Lady._ Hey-day, Mr. Silvertongue! what, nobody here!

_Silv._ Oh, my Lady, we shall have company enough in a trice; if your carriage is seen at my door, no other will pass it, I am sure.

_1st Lady._ Familiar Monster! [_Aside._] That's a beautiful Diana, Mr. Silvertongue; but in the name of Wonder, how came Actæon to be placed on the top of a House?

_Silv._ That's a David and Bathsheba, Ma'am.

_Lady._ Oh, I crave their pardon!----I remember the Names, but know nothing of the Story.

_More Company enters._

_1st Gent._ Was not that Lady Frances Touchwood, coming up with Mrs. Racket?

_2d Gent._ I think so;----yes, it is, faith.----Let us go nearer.

_Enter Lady_ Frances, _Mrs._ Racket, _and Miss_ Ogle.

_Silv._ Yes, Sir, this is to be the first Lot:--the Model of a City, in wax.

_2d Gent._ The Model of a City! What City?

_Silv._ That I have not been able to discover; but call it Rome, Pekin, or London, 'tis still a City: you'll find in it the same jarring interests, the same passions, the same virtues, and the same vices, whatever the name.

_Gent._ You may as well present us a Map of _Terra Incognita_.

_Silv._ Oh, pardon me, Sir! a lively imagination would convert this waxen City into an endless and interesting amusement. For instance--look into this little House on the right-hand; there are four old Prudes in it, taking care of their Neighbours Reputations. This elegant Mansion on the left, decorated with Corinthian pillars--who needs be told that it belongs to a Court Lord, and is the habitation of Patriotism, Philosophy, and Virtue? Here's a City Hall--the rich steams that issue from the windows, nourish a neighbouring Work-House. Here's a Church--we'll pass over that, the doors are shut. The Parsonage-house comes next;--we'll take a peep here, however.--Look at the Doctor! he's asleep on a volume of Toland; whilst his Lady is putting on _rouge_ for the Masquerade.--Oh! oh! this can be no English City; our Parsons are all orthodox, and their Wives the daughters of Modesty and Meekness.

_Lady_ Frances _and Miss_ Ogle _come forward, followed by_ Courtall.

_Lady Fran._ I wish Sir George was here.----This man follows me about, and stares at me in such a way, that I am quite uneasy.

_Miss Ogle._ He has travell'd, and is heir to an immense estate; so he's impertinent by Patent.

_Court._ You are very cruel, Ladies. Miss Ogle--you will not let me speak to you. As to this little scornful Beauty, she has frown'd me dead fifty times.

_Lady Fran._ Sir--I am a married Woman. (_Confus'd._)

_Court._ A married Woman! a good hint. (_Aside._) 'Twould be a shame if such a charming Woman was not married. But I see you are a Daphne just come from your sheep, and your meadows; your crook, and your waterfalls. Pray now, who is the happy Damon, to whom you have vow'd eternal truth and constancy?

_Miss Ogle._ 'Tis Lady Frances Touchwood, Mr. Courtall, to whom you are speaking.

_Court._ Lady Frances! By Heaven, that's Saville's old flame. [_Aside._] I beg your Ladyship's pardon. I ought to have believed that such beauty could belong only to your Name----a Name I have long been enamour'd of; because I knew it to be that of the finest Woman in the world.

_Mrs._ Racket _comes forward_.

_Lady Fran._ [_Apart._] My dear Mrs. Racket, I am so frighten'd! Here's a Man making love to me, though he knows I am married.

_Mrs. Rack._ Oh, the sooner for that, my dear; don't mind him. Was you at the _Cassino_ last night, Mr. Courtall?

_Court._ I look'd in.----'Twas impossible to stay. No body there but Antiques. You'll be at Lady Brilliant's to-night, doubtless?

_Mrs. Rack._ Yes, I go with Lady Frances.

_Lady Fran._ Bless me! I did not know this Gentleman was acquainted with Mrs. Racket.--I behaved so rude to him! [_To Miss_ Ogle.]

_Mrs. Rack._ Come, Ma'am; [_looking at her Watch_.] 'tis past one. I protest, if we don't fly to Kensington, we sha'n't find a soul there.

_Lady Fran._ Won't this Gentleman go with us?

_Court._ [_Looking surpris'd._] To be sure, you make me happy, Madam, beyond description.

_Mrs. Rack._ Oh, never mind him--he'll follow.

[_Exeunt Lady_ Frances, _Mrs._ Racket, _and Miss_ Ogle.

_Court._ Lady _Touchwood_! with a vengeance! But, 'tis always so;--your reserved Ladies are like ice, 'egad!--no sooner begin to soften, than they melt. [_Following._

END OF THE SECOND ACT.