Archer, without first procuring a divorce from her husband, would offend great part of the audience. “Oh," replied Farquhar, gaily, when this message was delivered to him, “ tell her, I wish she was married to me instead of Sullen; for then, without the trouble of a divorce, I would give her my bond, that she should be a widow within a few days.”

In this allusion he was prophetic ;--and the apparent joy, with which he expected his dissolution, may be accounted for on the supposition--that the profligate characters, which he has pourtrayed in “The Beaux Stratagem,” were such as he had uniformly met with in the world;--and he was rejoiced to leave them all behind.




Mr. Holland. Mr. Brunton. 2

Mr. Claremont. MAN ARCHER

Mr. Elliston. Mr. Lewis. SULLEN

Mr. Powell. Mr. Murray. FOIGARD

Mr. Johnstone. Mr. Rock. BONIFACE

Mr. Palmer. Mr. Davenport. GIBBET

Mr. Wewitzer. Mr. Emery. HOUNSLOW

Mr. Maddocks. Mr. Atkins. BAGSHOT

Mr. Webb. Mr. Albot. SCRUB

Mr. Bannister. Mr. Munden. LADY BOUNTIFUL' Mrs. Sparks.

Mrs. Sparks. Mrs. Imory. MRS. SULLEN Mrs. Jordan. Mrs. Glover. DORINDA

Miss Mellon. Miss Brunton. CHERRY

Miss De Camp. Mrs. Martyr. Gipsex

Mrs. Scott. Mrs. Beverly,

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An Inn.

Enter BONIFACE, running.-Bar Bell rings. Bon. Chamberlain ! Maid! Cherry! Daughter Cherry! All asleep? all dead?

Enter CHERRY, running. Cher. Here! here! Why d'ye bawl so, father? d'ye think we have no ears?

Bon. You deserve to have none, you young minx: --The company of the Warrington coach has stood in the hall this hour, and nobody to show them to their chambers.

Cher. And let them wait, father;--there's neither red coat in the coach, nor footman behind it.

Bon. But they threaten to go to another inn to-night.

Cher. That they. dare not, for fear the coachman should overturn them to-morrow--[Ringing.] Coming! coming !-Here's the London coach arrived. Enter several PEOPLE with Trunks, Bandboxes, and

other Luggage, and cross the Stage. Bon. Welcome, ladies.

Cher. Very welcome, gentlemen-Chamberlain, show the lion and the rose. [Exit with the COMPANY. Enter AIMWELL, in a Riding Habit, ARCHER as Foota

mun, carrying a Portmanteau. Bon. This way, this way, gentlemen.

Aim. Set down the things; go to the stable, and see my horses well rubbed. Arch. I shall, sir.

[Exit. Aim. You're my landlord, I suppose ?

Bon. Yes, sir, I'm old Will Boniface, pretty well known upon this road, as the saying is.

Aim. O, Mr. Boniface, your servant.

Bon. O, sir, --what will your honour please to drink, as the saying is?

lim. I have heard your town of Litchfield much famed for ale, I think : l'll taste that.

Bon. Sir, I have now in my cellar ten tun of the best ale in Staffordshire ; 'tis smooth as oil, sweet as milk, clear as amber, and strong as brandy, and will be just fourteen years old the fifth day of next March.

Aim. Your are very exact, I find, in the age of your ale. Pon. As punctual, sir, as I ani in the age


my children : I'll show you such ale-Here, tapster, broach number 1792, as the saying is :shall taste my Anno Domini- I have lived in Litchfield, man and boy, above eight and fifty years, and I believe have not consumed eight and fifty ounces of meat.

Aim. At a meal, you mean, if one may guess your sense by your bulk.

-Sir, you

Bon. Not in my life, sir ; I have fed purely upon ale : I have eat my ale, drank my ale, and I always sleep upon ale.

Enter TAPSTER, with a Tankard. Now, sir, you shall see: your worship's health : ha! delicious, delicious fancy it Burgundy, only fancy it, and 'tis worth ten shillings a quart.

Aim. [Drinks.] 'T'is confounded strong.

Bon. Strong! it must be so; or how would we be strong that drink it?

Aim. And have you lived so long upon this ale, landlord ?

Bon. Eight and fifty years, upon my credit, sir; but it killed my wife, poor woman, as the saying is.

Aim. How came that.to pass?

Bor. I don't know how, sir; she would not let the ale take its natural course, sir: she was for qualifying it every now and then with a dram, as the saying is, and an honest gentleman, that came this way from Ireland, made her a present of a dozen bottles of Usquebaugh but the poor womaiì was never well after ; but, however, I was obliged to the gentleman,

you know.

Aim. Why, was it the Usquebaugh that killed her?

Bon. My Lady Bountiful said so-she, good lady, did what could be done; she cured her of three tympanies, but the fourth carried her off; but she's happy, and I'm contented, as the saying is.

Aim. Who's that Lady Bountiful, you mentioned?

Bon. 'Ods my lite, sir, well drink her health. [Drinks.] My Lady Bountiful is one of the best of wonen: her last husband, Sir Charles Bountiful, left her worth a thousand pounds a year; and I believe she lays out one half on't in charitable uses, for the good of her neighbours: she cures all disorders inci

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