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Mrs. BROWN.

Can we get in, old lady, pray,

To fee him robe himself to-day?

Mrs. Sco T.
SCOT.

Can you direct us, dame?

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OLD WOMAN.

Endeavour,

TROY could not ftand a fiege for ever.
By frequent trying, TROY was won,
All things, by trying, may be done.

Mrs. BROW N.

Go thy ways, Proverbs-well-fhe's gone-
Shall we turn back, or venture on?
Look how the folks prefs on before,
And throng impatient at the door.

Mrs. So T.

Perdigious! I can hardly stand,
Lord bless me, Mrs. BROWN, your hand,
And you, my dear, take hold of her's,
For we muft ftick as clofe as burrs,
Or in this racket, noise and pother,
We certainly fhall lofe each other.

Good God! my cardinal and fack
Are almoft torn from off my back.
Lard, I fhall faint-Oh Lud- my breaft
I'm crush'd to atoms, I proteft.
God bless me-I have drop'd my fan,
Pray did you fee it, honeft man?

MAN.

I, madam! no,—indeed, I fear

You'll meet with fome misfortune here.

Stand back, I fay pray, fir, forbear

Why, don't you fee the ladies there?
Put yourselves under my direction,
Ladies, I'll be your fafe protection.

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Mrs. S c o. T.

You're very kind, fir; truly few
Are half fo complaifant as you.
We fhall be glad at any day...
This obligation to repay,

And you'll be always sure to meet
A welcome, fir, in-Lard! the street
Bears fuch a name, I can't tell how
To tell him where I live, I vow.

Mercy what's all this noife and ftir?

Pray is the KING a coming, fir?

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MAN.

No don't you hear the people fhout! 'Tis Mr. PITT, just going OUT.

Mrs. BROW N.

Aye, there he goes, pray heav'n bless him! Well may the people all carefs him.

Lord, how my hufband us'd to fit,

And drink fuccefs to honest PITT,

And happy o'er his evening cheer,

Cry, you shall pledge this toaft, my dear.

MAN.

Hift-filence-don't you hear the drumming?
Now, ladies, now, the KING's a coming.
There, don't you fee the guards approach?

Mrs. BRO W N.

Which is the King?

Mrs. Sco T.

Which is the coach?

SCOTCH MAN.

Which is the noble EARL OF BUTE,
Geud-faith, I'll gi him a salute.
For he's the Laird of aw our clan,
Troth, he's a bonny muckle man.

MAN.

MAN.

Here comes the Coach, so very slow
As if it ne'er was made to go,
In all the gingerbread of state,

And ftaggering under its own weight.

Mrs. S com

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Upon my word, its monstrous fire !
Would half the gold upon't were mine!
How gawdy all the gilding fhews !
It puts one's eyes out as it goes.
What a rich glare of various hues,
What fhining yellows, fcarlets, blues!
It must have coft a heavy price;
'Tis like a mountain drawn by mice,

Mrs. BROWN.

So painted, gilded, and fo large,
Blefs me! 'tis like my lord mayor's barge.

And fo it is look how it reels!

'Tis nothing elsea barge on wheels.

MAN.

Large! it can't pals St. James's gate,

So big the coach, the arch fo ftrait.
It might be made to rumble thro'
And pafs as other coaches do
Could they a body-coachman get
So moft prépofterously fit,

Who'd undertake (and no rare thing)

Without a head, to drive the king.

Mrs. S c o T.

Lard! what are those two ugly things
There with their hands upon the fprings,
Filthy, as ever eyes beheld,

With naked breafts, and faces fwell'd ?
What could the faucy maker mean,
To put fuch things to fright the QUEEN?

VOL. I.

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MAN.

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MAN.

Oh! they are Gods, Ma'm, which you see,
Of the Marine Society.

Tritons, which in the ocean dwell,

And only rife to blow their fhell.

Mrs. Sco T.

Gods, d'ye call those filthy men ?
Why don't they go to fea again?
Pray, tell me, fir, you understand,
What do thefe Tritons do on land

Mrs. BRO W N.

And what are they? thofe hindmoft things,
Men, fifh and birds, with flesh, scales, wings
MAN.

Oh, they are Gods too, like the others,
All of one family and brothers,

Creatures, which feldom come a-fhore,
Nor feen about the King before.

For Show, they wear the yellow Hue,
Their proper colour is True-blue.

Mrs. Sco T.

Lord blefs us! what's this noife about?

Lord, what a tumult and a rout!

How the folks holla, hifs, and hoot!

Well-Heav'n preferve the EARL OF BUTE!

I cannot ftay, indeed, not I,

If there's a riot I thall die.

Let's make for any house we can,

Do give us fhelter, honeft man.

Mrs. BROWN.

I wonder'd where you was, my dear,
I thought I fhould have died with fear.
This noife and racketing and hurry
Has put my nerves in fuch a flurry!

I could

I could not think where you was got,
I thought I'd loft you, Mrs. Scot;
Where's Mrs. Tape, and Mr. Grin?
Lard, I'm fo glad we're all got in.

The SCHOOL for WOMEN.

[Concluded from our laft.]

ACT III. SCENE 1.7

An Apartment at MELISSA's.

Enter PHYLLIS. MELISSA, elegantly dreffed.

EL

MELISSA.

WE LL, Phyllis, what do you think of me

now?

PHYLL I S.

Really, madam, your ladyship can't poffibly look better. You have made me employ fo much time, and take so much pains, that the most difficult beauty might be glad of your ladyfhip's drefs, for a model. Pray, madam, tell me, are you going to a ball? or at what agreeable party do you propose to eclipse all that fhall dare to difpute the prize of beauty?

MELIS S: A.

No, Phyllis, I am not going to any ball, -I don't sup abroad I ftay at home.

PHYLL I S.

At home, madam! I don't understand you.

MELISSA.

You will presently, when I tell you all this preparation of ornament is the confequence of the leffons I received

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