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her unfortunate cousin, who died abroad some years ago, and, consequently, the grandchild of her uncle.

CLERMONT.

Generous creature! I am sure her actions are poetry, let her taste and fancy be what they may.

LADY SHREWDLY.

Yes, somewhat too romantic for Sir John's present views; so that we cannot trust the business to him.

CLERMONT.

No, hang him! I'll do it myself: I'll set about it forthwith. There is not a gambling-house, spunging-house, nor night-cellar within the bills of mortality that shall be unsearched.

LADY SHREWDLY.

You take it up so eagerly that I cannot doubt your diligence. Good bye, for the present: I must return into the house, and release her from searching for what she will not find.[Exit.

CLERMONT.

To foster a quarrel with me so capriciously and pettishly at such a conjuncture!—I understand her now.—She is a noble creature; but surely she might have done it less offensively.

[Exit by the garden.