Minor, a scurrilous attack upon the Methodists, was the most successful. This was followed by The Mayor of Garratt, a coarse but humorous sketch, including two characters, Major Sturgeon, the city militia officer, and Jerry Sneak, which can never become completely obsolete. Foote's plays are twenty in number, and he boasted, at the close of his life, that he had added sixteen decidedly new characters to the English stage. He died at Dover, when on his way to France, on the twentieth of October, 1777. From his 'Lame Lover' we select the following scene:

TUFT HUNTING.

[Charlotte and Serjeant Circuit.]

Char. Sir, I have other proofs of your hero's vanity not inferior to that I have mentioned.

Serjeant. Cite them.

Char. The paltry ambition of levying and following titles.

Serjeant. Titles! I don't understand you.

Char. I mean the poverty of fastening in public upon men of distinction, for no other reason but because of their rank; adhering to Sir John till the baronet is superseded by my lord; quitting the puny peer for an earl; and sacrificing all three to a duke.

Serj. Keeping good company!-a laudable ambition!

Char. True, sir, if the virtues that procured the father a peerage could with that be entailed on the son.

Serj Have a care, hussy; there are severe laws against speaking evil of dignities. Char Sir!

Serj. Scandalum magnatum is a statue must not be trifled with: why, you are not one of those vulgar sluts who think a man the worse for being a lord? Char. No, sir; I am contented with only not thinking him the better.

Serj. For all this, I believe, hussy, a right honourable proposal would soon make you alter your mind.

Char. Not unless the proposer had other qualities than what he possesses by patent. Besides, sir, you know Sir Luke is a devotee to the bottle.

Serj. Not a whit the less honest for that.

Char. It occasions one evil at least; that when under its influence he generally reveals all, sometimes more than he knows.

Serj. Proofs of an open temper, you baggage; but, come, come, all these are but trifling objections.

Char. You mean, sir, they prove the object a trifle.

Serj. Why, you pert jade, do you play on my words? I say Sir Luke is—

Char. Nobody.

Serj. Nobody! how the deuce do you make that out? He is neither a person attainted or outlawed, may in any of his majesty's courts sue or be sued, appear by attorney or in propria persona, can acquire, buy, procure, purchase, possess, and inherit, not only personalities, such as goods and chattels, but even realities, as all lands, tenements, and hereditaments, whatsoever and wheresoever.

Char. But, sir—

Serj. Nay, further, child, he may sell, give, bestow, bequeath, devise, demise lease, or to farm let, ditto lands, or to any person whomsoever-and

Char. Without doubt, sir; but there are notwithstanding in this town a great number of nobodies, not described by Lord Coke.

[Sir Luke Limp makes his appearance, and after a short dialogue, enter a Servant and delivers a card to Sir Luke.]

Sir Luke [Reads]. 'Sir Gregory Goose desires the honour of Sir Luke Limp's company to dine. An answer is desired.' Gadso! a little unlucky, I have been engaged for these three weeks.

Serj. What! I find Sir Gregory is returned for the corporation of Fleecem. Sir Luke. Is he so? Oh, oh! that alters the case. George, give my compliments to Sir Gregory, and I'll certainly come and dine there. Order Joe to run to Alderman Inkle's in Threadneedle Street; sorry can't wait upon him, but confined to bed two days with the new influenza.

Char. You make light, Sir Luke, of these sort of engagements.

[Exit Servant.]

Sir Luke. What can a man do? These fellows (when one has the misfortune to meet them) take scandalous advantage: when will you do me the honour, pray, Sir Luke, to take a bit of mutton with me? Do you name the day? They are as bad as a beggar who attacks your coach at the mounting of a hill; there is no getting rid of them without a penny to one, and a promise to t'other.

Serj. True; and then for such a time too-three weeks! I wonder they expect folks to remember. It is like a retainer in Michaelmas term for the summer assizes.

Sir Luke. Not but upon these occasions no man in England is more punctual than

From whom?

[Enter a Servant, who gives Sir Luke a letter.]

Serv. Earl of Brentford. The servant waits for an answer.

Sir Luke. Answer! By your leave, Mr. Serjeant and Charlotte. [Reads.] 'Taste for music-Mons. Duport-fail-dinner upon table at five.' Gadso! I hope Sir Gregory's servant an't gone.

Serv. Immediately upon receiving the answer.

Sir Luke. Run after him as fast as you can-tell him quite in despair-recollect an engagement that can't in nature be missed, and return in an instant.

[Exit Servant.]

Char. You see, sir, the knight must give way for my lord. Sir Luke. No, faith, it is not that, my dear Charlotte; you saw that was quite an extempore business. No, hang it, no, it is not for the title; but, to tell you the truth, Brentford has more wit than any man in the world: it is that makes me fond of his house.

Char. By the choice of his company he gives an unanswerable instance of that.

Sir Luke. You are right, my dear girl. But now to give you a proof of his wit: you know Brentford's finances are a little out of repair, which procures him some visits that he would very gladly excuse.

Serj. What need he fear? His person is sacred; for by the tenth of William and Mary

Sir Luke. He knows that well enough; but for all that—

Serj. Indeed, by a late act of his own house (which does them infinite honour), his goods or chattels may be

Sir Luke. Seized upon when they can find them; but he lives in ready furnished lodgings, and hires his coach by the month.

Serj. Nay, if the sheriff return 'non inventus'

Sir Luke. A plague o' your law; you make me lose sight of my story. One morning a Welsh coachmaker came with his bill to my lord, whose name was un

luckily Lloyd. My lord had the man up. You are called, I think, Mr. Lloyd? At your lordship's service, my lord. What, Lloyd with an L! It was with an L, indeed, my lord. Because in your part of the world I have heard that Lloyd and Flloyd were synonymous, the very same names. Very often, indeed, my lord. But you always spell yours with an L? Always, That, Mr. Lloyd, is a little unlucky; for you must know I am now paying my debts alphabetically, and in four or five years you might have come in with an F; but I am afraid I can give you no hopes for your L. Ha, ha, ha!

[Enter a Servant.]

Serv. There was no overtaking the servant.

Sir Luke. That is unlucky: tell my lord I'll attend him. I'll call on Sir Gregory myself. [Exit Servant.]

Serj. Why, you won't leave us, Sir Luke?

Sir Luke. Pardon, dear Serjeant and Charlotte; have a thousand things to do for half a million of people, positively; promised to procure a husband for Lady Sicily Sulky, and match a coach-horse for Brigadier Whip; after that, must run into the city to borrow a thousand for young At-all at Almack's; send a Cheshire cheese by the stage to Sir Timothy Tankard, in Suffolk; and get at the Herald's office a coat of arms to clap on the coach of Billy Bengal, a nabob newly arrived; so you see I have not a moment to lose.

Serj. True, true.

Sir Luke. At your toilet to-morrow you may-[Enter a Servant abruptly, and runs against Sir Luke]-Can't you see where you are running, you rascal.

Serv. In his coach at the door. If you aint better engaged, would be glad of your company to go into the city, and take a dinner at Dolly's.

Sir Luke. In his own coach, did you say?

Serv. Yes, sir.

Sir Luke. With the coronets-or

Serv. I believe so.

Sir Luke. There's no resisting of that. Bid Joe run to Sir Gregory Goose's. Serv. He is already gone to Alderman Inkle's.

Sir Luke. Then do you step to the knight-hey!-no-you must go to my lord's -hold, hold, no-I have it-step first to Sir Greg's., then pop in at Lord Brentford's just as the company are going to dinner.

Serv. What shall I say to Sir Gregory?

Sir Luke. Any thing-what I told you before.

Serv. And what to my lord?

Sir Luke. What!-Why tell him that my uncle from Epsom-no-that won't do, for he knows I don't care a farthing for him-hey! Why, tell him-hold, I have it. Tell him that as I was going into my chair to obey his commands, I was arrested by a couple of bailiffs, forced into a hackney-coach, and carried into the Pied Bull in the borough; I beg ten thousand pardons for making his grace wait, but his grace knows my misfor[Exeunt Sir Luke and Servant.] Char. Well, sir, what d'ye think of the proofs? I flatter myself I have pretty well established my case.

Serj. Why, hussy, you have hit upon points; but then they are but trifling flaws, they don't vitiate the title; that stands unimpeached.

A few remarks on the comic operas of this period, in which songs and dialogue alternate, will close the present subject. The Devil to Pay, by

Coffey, was long a favorite, chiefly for the female character, Nell, which made the fortune of several actresses. The operas of this description by Isaac Bickerstaff, among which are The Padlock, Love in a Village, and Lionel Clarissa, present a pleasing union of lyrical charms with those of dramatic incident and dialogue. The Quaker, by Charles Dibdin, author and composer of a multitude of these operas, and dramatic trifles, was produced in 1777, contains much excellent music, and is still popular.