he came back?

Frank. Promised a gentleman!—Who?—who is the gentleman?

Dennis. Arrah, now, where did you larn manners? Would you ax a customer his birth, parentage, and education? "Heaven bless you, sir, you'll come back again?" says she—"That's what I will, before you can say, parsnips, my darling," says he.

Frank. Damnation! what does this mean?—explain your errand, clearly, you scoundrel, or—

Dennis. Scoundrel!—Don't be after affronting a housekeeper. Havn't I a sign at my door, three pigs, a wife, and a man sarvant?

Frank. Well, go on.

Dennis. Damn the word more will I tell you.

Frank. Why, you infernal——

Dennis. Oh, be asy!—see what you get, now, by affronting Mr. Dennis Brulgruddery. [Searching his Pockets.] I'd have talk'd for an hour, if you had kept a civil tongue in your head!—but now, you may read the letter.

[Giving it.

Frank. A letter!—stupid booby!—why didn't you give it to me at first?—Yes, it is her hand.

[Opens the Letter.

Dennis. Stupid!—If you're so fond of letters, you might larn to behave yourself to the postman.

Frank. [Reading and agitated.]—Not going to upbraid you—Couldn't rest at my father's—Trifling assistance—Oh, Heaven! does she then want assistance?—The gentleman who has befriended me—damnation!—the gentleman!—Your unhappy Mary.—Scoundrel that I am!—what is she suffering!—but who, who is this gentleman?—no matter—she is distress'd, heart breaking! and I, who have been the cause;—I, who——here——[Running to a Writing Table, and opening a Drawer] Run—fly—despatch!—

Dennis. He's mad!

Frank. Say, I will be at your house, myself—remember, positively come, or send, in the course of the day.—In the mean time, take this, and give it to the person who sent you.

Giving a Purse, which he has taken from the Drawer.

Dennis. A purse!—'faith, and I'll take it.—Do you know how much is in the inside?

Frank. Psha! no.—No matter.

Dennis. Troth, now, if I'd trusted a great big purse to a stranger, they'd have call'd it a bit of a bull:—but let you and I count it out between us, [Pouring the Money on the Table.] for, damn him, say I, who would cheat a poor girl in distress, of the value of a rap.—One, two, three, &c.

[Counting.

Frank. Worthy, honest fellow!

Dennis. Eleven, twelve, thirteen—

Frank. I'll be the making of your house, my good fellow.

Dennis. Damn the Red Cow, sir,—you put me out.—Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen.—Nineteen fat yellow boys, and a seven shilling piece.—Tell them yourself, sir; then chalk them up over the chimney-piece, else you'll forget, you know.

Frank. O, friend, when honesty, so palpably natural as yours, keeps the account, I care not for my arithmetic.—Fly now,—bid the servants give you any refreshment you chuse; then hasten to execute your commission.