Eger.  It is a very advantageous bargain indeed, sir:—­but what will my lord’s family say to it?

Sir Per.  Why, mon, he cares not if his family were aw at the devil so his luxury is but gratified:—­only let him have his race-horse to feed his vanity—­his harridan to drink drams with him, scrat his face, and burn his periwig, when she is in her maudlin hysterics,—­and three or four discontented patriotic dependents to abuse the ministry, and settle the affairs of the nation, when they are aw intoxicated; and then, sir,:—­the fellow has aw his wishes, and aw his wants—­in this world—­and the next.

    Enter TOMLINS.

Tom.  Lady Rodolpha is come, sir.

Sir Per.  And my lord?

Tom.  Not yet, sir,—­he is about a mile behind, the servants say.

Sir Per.  Let me know the instant he arrives.

Tom.  I shall, sir. [Exit.

Sir Per.  Step you out, Charles, and receive Lady Rodolpha;—­and, I desire you will treat her with as much respect and gallantry as possible; for my lord has hinted that you have been very remiss as a lover.—­So go, go and receive her.

Eger.  I shall, sir.

Sir Per.  Vary weel,—­vary weel;—­a guid lad:  go—­go and receive her as a lover should. [Exit Egerton.] Hah!  I must keep a devilish tight hand upon this fallow, I see,—­or he will be touched with the patriotic frenzy of the times, and run counter till aw my designs.—­I find he has a strong inclination to have a judgment of his ain, independent of mine, in aw political matters;—­but as soon as I have finally settled the marriage writings with my lord, I will have a thorough expostulation with my gentleman, I am resolved,—­and fix him unalterably in his political conduct.—­Ah!—­I am frighted out of my wits, lest his mother’s family should seduce him to desert to their party, which would totally ruin my whole scheme, and break my heart.—­A fine time of day for a blockhead to turn patriot;—­when the character is exploded—­marked—­proscribed;—­why the common people—­the vary vulgar—­have found out the jest, and laugh at a patriot now-a-days,—–­just as they do at a conjurer,—­a magician,—­or any other impostor in society.—­

    Enter TOMLINS, and Lord LUMBERCOURT.

Tom.  Lord Lumbercourt.

Lord Lum.  Sir Pertinax, I kiss your hand.

Sir Per.  Your lordship’s most devoted.

Lord Lum.  Why, you stole a march upon me this morning;—­gave me the slip, Mac;—­tho’ I never wanted your assistance more in my life.—­I thought you would have called on me.

Sir Per.  My dear lord, I beg ten millions of pardons for leaving town before you; but you ken that your lordship at dinner yesterday settled it that we should meet this morning at the levee.

Lord Lum.  That I acknowledge, Mac.—­I did promise to be there, I own.