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Dian. Deareft father your bleffing. (they kneel to Whimmy)

Tully. There, my bleffing on you both, you two fouls. (puts his band on their heads)

Tom P. Then, my dear uncle, I take my lovely Kitty Barleycorn, and whilst her gentle qualities convince our friends, that birth and rank are not neceffary to conftitute an amiable wife, my respect for her virtues may prove, that the thoughtless prodigal can make a tender hufband.

Whim. Oh! I'm happy! ha! ha! We've all got fo very generous. Peregrine, with his little fortune, has Dian and all my wealth; your nephew, with your riches, takes little Kitty Barleycorn with nothing at all; and Mrs. Maggs looks fo charming, that I could find in my heart to -(going up to her)

Mrs. M. Now that's fo like Mr. Olmondle, (Smiling and advancing)

Whim. (runs from her) To the devil with the

Olmondles.

Tom P. Then, Sir, here ends my five years hermitage, and, inftead of my annuity, I fhall think myself nobly rewarded, if my fancies can, by an indulgent fmile, receive the forgiveness of my generous friends.

THE END.

THE

IRISH MIMIC;
MIMIC;

OR,

BLUNDERS AT BRIGHTON.

IN TWO ACTS.

PERFORMED AT THE

THEATRE-ROYAL, COVENT-GARDEN,

IN 1795.

THE MUSIC BY MR. SHIELD,

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THE

IRISH MIMIC;

OR,

BLUNDERS AT BRIGHTON.

ACT I

SCENE I.

A Street.

Enter COLIN with a Basket.

COLIN, (booking out).

YES, it be's, Harry.

Enter HARRY, (in morning dress, and Bathing Man).

Harry. No, tell Bishopp I shan't bathe to

morrow.

[Exit man. Every morning relaxes, and we come down here to brace ourselves up like drums, for the rattle of a London winter campaign.

Colin. My brother Harry!

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Harry.

Harry. Colin! What brought you here? Colin. An if you go to that, what has brought you here?

Harry. I came but yesterday with my lady. Colin. Oh, then you got á pleace fince? So did I the very day after we parted in London.

Harry. Why, that's lucky, the first week you fet foot in town.

Colin. No, it was quite misfortunate. My place was fo badifh, Meafter was one of the fhew. Harry. What, an actor?

Colin. Yes, he acted your foreign Opera Plays, in Haymarket.

Harry. Oh then, you were fervant to an Opera finger?

Colin. Yes, that was it; he got a huge deal of money from our high gentry here in England; but to fave it all, and bring it away with him, he ftarved himself, and gave me nothing to eat. I'll be dom❜d but he did; for his fallads, made me pick dandelion, and water creffes out of the ditches; then he made maccoroni, which be's just like our hard dumplings cut into long tobacco. ftoppers; then he made omlettes, and when he used to boil eggs, he wanted me to fup the broth, an Italian fon of a faufage, wanted to fatten an Englishman with egg broth, fo I left him-oh, I left him. Harry. Well, who do you live with now? Some Suffex Squire, Eh?

Colin. No, I bes fervant to a defperate voine lady! Mifs Melcombe, from Lancashire.

Harry. What! (Surprised) ha! ha ha! by Heavens exceeding good!

Colin. Now your mistress's name, Harry? Harry. Mifs Melcombe from Lancashire-You impudent puppy, how dare you tell me you live

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