lived in Lichfield, 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 by your bulk.

BON. Not in my life, sir; I have fed purely upon ale; I have eat my ale, drunk my ale, and I always sleep upon my ale.

Enter TAPSTER with a tankard.

Now, sir, you shall see. Your worship's health! [Drinks.] Ha! delicious! Fancy it Burgundy, only fancy it, and 'tis worth ten shillings a quart.

AIM. [Drinks.] 'Tis 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?

BON. 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 an honest gentleman, that came this way from Ireland, made her a present of a dozen bottles of usquebaugh-but the poor woman 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 tympanites, 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. Odds my life, sir, we'll drink her health. [Drinks.] My Lady Bountiful is one of the best of women. 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.

AIM. Has the lady any children? BON. Yes, sir; she has a daughter by Sir Charles-the finest woman in all our country, and the greatest

fortune. She has a son, too, by her first husband, Squire Sullen, who married a fine lady from London t'other day. If you please, sir, we'll drink his health. [Drinks.]

AIM. What sort of a man is he?

BON. Why, sir, the man's well enough; says little, thinks less, and does nothing at all, faith; but he's a man of great estate, and values nobody.

AIM. A sportsman, I suppose?

BON. Yes, he's a man of pleasure. He plays at whist, and smokes his pipe eight-and-forty hours together sometimes.

AIM. A fine sportsman, truly!-and married, you say?

BON. Ay, and to a curious woman, sir. But he's my landlord, and so a man, you know, would not-sir, my humble service to you. [Drinks.] Though I value not a farthing what he can do to me. I pay him his rent at quarter-day; I have a good running trade; I have but one daughter, and I can give her--but no matter for that.

AIM. You're very happy, Mr. Boniface. Pray, what other company have you in town?

BON. A power of fine ladies; and then we have the French officers.

AIM. Oh, that's right; you have a good many of those gentlemen; pray, how do you like their company?

BON. So well, as the saying is, that I could wish we had as many more of 'em. They're full of money, and pay double for every thing they have. They know, sir, that we paid good round taxes for the making of 'em, and so they are willing to reimburse us a little. One of 'em lodges in my house. [Bell rings.] I beg your worship's pardon-I'll wait on you in half a minute. G. Farquhar.

29.-Enter DENTATUS, TITUS, SERVIUS, and Citizens.

TIT. What's to be done.

DEN. We'll be undone-that's to be

done.

SER. We'll do away with the Decemvirate.

DEN. You'll do away with the Decemvirate? The Decemvirate will do away with you! You'll do away with yourselves. Do nothing. The enemy will do away with both of you. In another month a Roman will be a

stranger in Rome. A fine pass we are come to, masters!

TIT. But something must be done. DEN. Why, what would you have? You shout and clap your hands, as if it were a victory you heard of; and yet you cry-Something must be done! Truly, I know not what that something is, unless it be to make you general. How say you, masters?

SER. We'd follow any man that knew how to lead us, and would rid us of our foes and the Decemvirate together.

DEN. You made these Decemvirs! You are strangely discontented with your own work! And you are overcunning workmen, too. You put your materials so firmly together, there's no such thing as taking them asunder! What you build, you build -except it be for your own good. There you are bunglers at your craft. Ha ha ha! I cannot but laugh to think how you toiled, and strained, and sweated, to rear the stones of the building one above another, when I see the sorry faces you make at it.

TIT. But tell us the news again. DEN. Is it so good? Does it so please you? Then prick your ears again, and listen. We have been beaten again-beaten back on our own soil. Rome has seen its haughty masters fly before chastisement, like slaves, returning cries for blows-and all this of your Decemvirs, gentlemen. 1st Cit. Huzza for it again!

[The people shout.] 2nd Cit. Hush! Appius comes. DEN. And do you care for that? You that were, just now, within a stride of taking him and his colleagues by the throat? You'll do away with the Decemvirs, will you! And let but one of them appear, you dare not, for your life, but keep your spleen within your teeth! Listen to me, now I'll speak the more for Appius

(Enter APPIUS CLAUDIUS, preceded by Lictors.)

-I say to the eternal infamy of Rome, the foe has chased her sons, like hares, on their own soil, where they should prey like lions-and so they would, had they not keepers to tame them.

APP. What's that you are sayin. to the people, Siccius Dentatus! DEN. I am regaling them with

news.

APP. The news?

DEN. Ay, the news - the newest that can be had; and the more novel because unlooked for. Who ever thought to see the eagle in the talons of the kite?

APP. It is not well done in you, Dentatus, to chafe a sore: it makes it rankle. If your surgery has learned no better, it should keep its hands to itself! You have very little to do to busy yourself after this fashion.

DEN. I busy myself as 1 like, Appius Claudius.

APP. I know you do, when you labour to spread disaffection among the people, and bring the Decemvirs into contempt.

DEN. The Decemvirs bring themselves into contempt.

APP. Ha! dare you say so?

DEN. [Closer to him.] Dare! I have dared cry Come on! to a cohort of bearded warriors. Is it thy smooth face should appal me? Dare! it never yet flurried me to use my arm; shall I not, think you, be at my ease when I but wag my tongue? Dare, indeed! [Laughing contemptuously.] APP. Your grey hairs should keep company with honester speech!

DEN. Shall I show you, Appius, the company they are wont to keep? Look here! and here! [Uncovering his forehead and showing scars.] These are the vouchers of honest deedssuch is the speech with which my grey hairs keep company. 1 tell you, to your teeth, the Decemvirs bring themselves into contempt.

APP. What! are they not serving their country at the head of her armies?

DEN. They'd serve her better in the body of her armies! I'd name for thee a hundred centurions would make better generals. A common soldier, of a year's active service, would take his measures better. Generals! Our generals were wont to teach us how to win battles. Tactics are changedour generals instruct us how to lose them.-Sheridan Knowles (Virginius).