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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/7108-0.txt b/7108-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9a55826 --- /dev/null +++ b/7108-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6848 @@ + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Trip to Scarborough and The Critic, by Richard Brinsley Sheridan + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most +other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of +the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have +to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. + +Title: A Trip to Scarborough and The Critic + +Author: Richard Brinsley Sheridan + +Release Date: December, 2004 [EBook #7108] +Last updated: November 14, 2019 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A TRIP TO SCARBOROUGH AND THE CRITIC *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + +A Trip to Scarborough + +and + +The Critic + +by Richard Brinsley Sheridan + +Contents + + A Trip to Scarborough + The Critic + +A Trip to Scarborough + +_A COMEDY_ + +DRAMATIS PERSONÆ + +AS ORIGINALLY ACTED AT DRURY LANE THEATRE IN 1777 + + +LORD FOPPINGTON _Mr. Dodd._ +SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY _Mr. Moody._ +COLONEL TOWNLY _Mr. Brereton._ +LOVELESS _Mr. Smith._ +TOM FASHION _Mr. J. Palmer._ +LA VAROLE _Mr. Burton._ +LORY _Mr. Baddeley._ +PROBE _Mr. Parsons._ +MENDLEGS _Mr. Norris._ +JEWELLER _Mr. Lamash_ +SHOEMAKER _Mr. Carpenter._ +TAILOR _Mr. Parker._ +AMANDA _Mrs. Robinson._ +BERINTHIA _Miss Farren._ +MISS HOYDEN _Mrs. Abington._ +MRS. COUPLER _Mrs. Booth._ +NURSE _Mrs. Bradshaw._ + +Sempstress, Postilion, Maid, _and_ Servants. + +SCENE—SCARBOROUGH AND ITS NEIGHBOURHOOD. + +PROLOGUE SPOKEN BY MR. KING + +What various transformations we remark, +From east Whitechapel to the west Hyde Park! +Men, women, children, houses, signs, and fashions, +State, stage, trade, taste, the humours and the passions; +The Exchange, ’Change Alley, wheresoe’er you’re ranging, +Court, city, country, all are changed or changing +The streets, some time ago, were paved with stones, +Which, aided by a hackney-coach, half broke your bones. +The purest lovers then indulged in bliss; +They ran great hazard if they stole a kiss. +One chaste salute!—the damsel cried—Oh, fie! +As they approach’d—slap went the coach awry— +Poor Sylvia got a bump, and Damon a black eye. +But now weak nerves in hackney-coaches roam, +And the cramm’d glutton snores, unjolted, home; +Of former times, that polish’d thing a beau, +Is metamorphosed now from top to toe; +Then the full flaxen wig, spread o’er the shoulders, +Conceal’d the shallow head from the beholders. +But now the whole’s reversed—each fop appears, +Cropp’d and trimm’d up, exposing head and ears: +The buckle then its modest limits knew, +Now, like the ocean, dreadful to the view, +Hath broke its bounds, and swallowed up the shoe: +The wearer’s foot like his once fine estate, +Is almost lost, the encumbrance is so great. +Ladies may smile—are they not in the plot? +The bounds of nature have not they forgot? +Were they design’d to be, when put together, +Made up, like shuttlecocks, of cork and feather? +Their pale-faced grandmammas appeared with grace +When dawning blushes rose upon the face; +No blushes now their once-loved station seek; +The foe is in possession of the cheek! +No heads of old, too high in feather’d state, +Hinder’d the fair to pass the lowest gate; +A church to enter now, they must be bent, +If ever they should try the experiment. + + As change thus circulates throughout the nation, +Some plays may justly call for alteration; +At least to draw some slender covering o’er, +That graceless wit, which was too bare before +Those writers well and wisely use their pens, +Who turn our wantons into Magdalens; +And howsoever wicked wits revile ’em, +We hope to find in you their stage asylum. + + + +ACT I. + +SCENE I.—_The Hall of an Inn_. + +_Enter TOM FASHION and LORY, POSTILION following with a portmanteau_. + +TOM FASHION. +Lory, pay the postboy, and take the portmanteau. + +LORY. +[_Aside to TOM FASHION_.] Faith, sir, we had better let the postboy +take the portmanteau and pay himself. + +TOM FASHION. +[_Aside to LORY_.] Why, sure, there’s something left in it! + +LORY. +Not a rag, upon my honour, sir! We ate the last of your wardrobe at New +Malton—and, if we had had twenty miles further to go, our next meal +must have been of the cloak-bag. + +TOM FASHION. +Why, ’sdeath, it appears full! + +LORY. +Yes, sir—I made bold to stuff it with hay, to save appearances, and +look like baggage. + +TOM FASHION. +[_Aside_.] What the devil shall I do?—[_Aloud_.] Hark’ee, boy, what’s +the chaise? + +POSTILION. +Thirteen shillings, please your honour. + +TOM FASHION. +Can you give me change for a guinea? + +POSTILION. +Oh, yes, sir. + +LORY. +[_Aside_.] So, what will he do now?—[_Aloud_.] Lord, sir, you had +better let the boy be paid below. + +TOM FASHION. +Why, as you say, Lory, I believe it will be as well. + +LORY. +Yes, yes, I’ll tell them to discharge you below, honest friend. + +POSTILION. +Please your honour, there are the turnpikes too. + +TOM FASHION. +Ay, ay, the turnpikes by all means. + +POSTILION. +And I hope your honour will order me something for myself. + +TOM FASHION. +To be sure; bid them give you a crown. + +LORY. +Yes, yes—my master doesn’t care what you charge them—so get along, you— + +POSTILION. +And there’s the ostler, your honour. + +LORY. +Psha! damn the ostler!—would you impose upon the gentleman’s +generosity?—[_Pushes him out_.] A rascal, to be so cursed ready with +his change! + +TOM FASHION. +Why, faith, Lory, he had nearly posed me. + +LORY. +Well, sir, we are arrived at Scarborough, not worth a guinea! I hope +you’ll own yourself a happy man—you have outlived all your cares. + +TOM FASHION. +How so, sir? + +LORY. +Why, you have nothing left to take care of. + +TOM FASHION. +Yes, sirrah, I have myself and you to take care of still. + +LORY. +Sir, if you could prevail with somebody else to do that for you, I +fancy we might both fare the better for it. But now, sir, for my Lord +Foppington, your elder brother. + +TOM FASHION. +Damn my eldest brother. + +LORY. +With all my heart; but get him to redeem your annuity, however. Look +you, sir; you must wheedle him, or you must starve. + +TOM FASHION. +Look you, sir; I would neither wheedle him, nor starve. + +LORY. +Why, what will you do, then? + +TOM FASHION. +Cut his throat, or get someone to do it for me. + +LORY. +Gad so, sir, I’m glad to find I was not so well acquainted with the +strength of your conscience as with the weakness of your purse. + +TOM FASHION. +Why, art thou so impenetrable a blockhead as to believe he’ll help me +with a farthing? + +LORY. +Not if you treat him _de haut en bas_, as you used to do. + +TOM FASHION. +Why, how wouldst have me treat him? + +LORY. +Like a trout—tickle him. + +TOM FASHION. +I can’t flatter. + +LORY. +Can you starve? + +TOM FASHION. +Yes. + +LORY. +I can’t. Good by t’ye, sir. + +TOM FASHION. +Stay—thou’lt distract me. But who comes here? My old friend, Colonel +Townly. + +_Enter_ COLONEL TOWNLY. + + My dear Colonel, I am rejoiced to meet you here. + +COLONEL TOWNLY. +Dear Tom, this is an unexpected pleasure! What, are you come to +Scarborough to be present at your brother’s wedding? + +LORY. +Ah, sir, if it had been his funeral, we should have come with pleasure. + +COLONEL TOWNLY. +What, honest Lory, are you with your master still? + +LORY. +Yes, sir; I have been starving with him ever since I saw your honour +last. + +TOM FASHION. +Why, Lory is an attached rogue; there’s no getting rid of him. + +LORY. +True, sir, as my master says, there’s no seducing me from his +service.—[_Aside_.] Till he’s able to pay me my wages. + +TOM FASHION. +Go, go, sir, and take care of the baggage. + +LORY. +Yes, sir, the baggage!—O Lord! [_Takes up the portmanteau_.] I suppose, +sir, I must charge the landlord to be very particular where he stows +this? + +TOM FASHION. +Get along, you rascal.—[_Exit_ LORY _with the portmanteau_.] But, +Colonel, are you acquainted with my proposed sister-in-law? + +COLONEL TOWNLY. +Only by character. Her father, Sir Tunbelly Clumsy, lives within a +quarter of a mile of this place, in a lonely old house, which nobody +comes near. She never goes abroad, nor sees company at home; to prevent +all misfortunes, she has her breeding within doors; the parson of the +parish teaches her to play upon the dulcimer, the clerk to sing, her +nurse to dress, and her father to dance;—in short, nobody has free +admission there but our old acquaintance, Mother Coupler, who has +procured your brother this match, and is, I believe, a distant relation +of Sir Tunbelly’s. + +TOM FASHION. +But is her fortune so considerable? + +COLONEL TOWNLY. +Three thousand a year, and a good sum of money, independent of her +father, beside. + +TOM FASHION. +’Sdeath! that my old acquaintance, Dame Coupler, could not have thought +of me, as well as my brother, for such a prize. + +COLONEL TOWNLY. +Egad, I wouldn’t swear that you are too late. His lordship, I know, +hasn’t yet seen the lady—and, I believe, has quarrelled with his +patroness. + +TOM FASHION. +My dear Colonel, what an idea have you started! + +COLONEL TOWNLY. +Pursue it, if you can, and I promise you shall have my assistance; for, +besides my natural contempt for his lordship, I have at present the +enmity of a rival towards him. + +TOM FASHION. +What, has he been addressing your old flame, the widow Berinthia? + +COLONEL TOWNLY. +Faith, Tom, I am at present most whimsically circumstanced. I came here +a month ago to meet the lady you mention; but she failing in her +promise, I, partly from pique and partly from idleness, have been +diverting my chagrin by offering up incense to the beauties of Amanda, +our friend Loveless’s wife. + +TOM FASHION. +I never have seen her, but have heard her spoken of as a youthful +wonder of beauty and prudence. + +COLONEL TOWNLY. +She is so indeed; and, Loveless being too careless and insensible of +the treasure he possesses, my lodging in the same house has given me a +thousand opportunities of making my assiduities acceptable; so that, in +less than a fortnight, I began to bear my disappointment from the widow +with the most Christian resignation. + +TOM FASHION. +And Berinthia has never appeared? + +COLONEL TOWNLY. +Oh, there’s the perplexity! for, just as I began not to care whether I +ever saw her again or not, last night she arrived. + +TOM FASHION. +And instantly resumed her empire. + +COLONEL TOWNLY. +No, faith—we met—but, the lady not condescending to give me any serious +reasons for having fooled me for a month, I left her in a huff. + +TOM FASHION. +Well, well, I’ll answer for it she’ll soon resume her power, especially +as friendship will prevent your pursuing the other too far. But my +coxcomb of a brother is an admirer of Amanda’s too, is he? + +COLONEL TOWNLY. +Yes, and I believe is most heartily despised by her. But come with me, +and you shall see her and your old friend Loveless. + +TOM FASHION. +I must pay my respects to his lordship—perhaps you can direct me to his +lodgings. + +COLONEL TOWNLY. + Come with me; I shall pass by it. + +TOM FASHION. +I wish you could pay this visit for me, or could tell me what I should +say to him. + +COLONEL TOWNLY. + Say nothing to him—apply yourself to his bag, his sword, his feather, + his snuff-box; and when you are well with them, desire him to lend you + a thousand pounds, and I’ll engage you prosper. + +TOM FASHION. +’Sdeath and furies! why was that coxcomb thrust into the world before +me? O Fortune, Fortune, thou art a jilt, by Gad! [_Exeunt._ + +SCENE II.—LORD FOPPINGTON’S _Dressing-room._ + +_Enter_ LORD FOPPINGTON _in his dressing-gown, and_ LA VAROLE. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. + [_Aside._] Well, ’tis an unspeakable pleasure to be a man of + quality—strike me dumb! Even the boors of this northern spa have + learned the respect due to a title.—[_Aloud._] La Varole! + +LA VAROLE. + Milor— + +LORD FOPPINGTON. + You ha’n’t yet been at Muddymoat Hall, to announce my arrival, have + you? + +LA VAROLE. + Not yet, milor. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +Then you need not go till Saturday [_Exit_ LA VAROLE] as I am in no +particular haste to view my intended sposa. I shall sacrifice a day or +two more to the pursuit of my friend Loveless’s wife. Amanda is a +charming creature—strike me ugly! and, if I have any discernment in the +world, she thinks no less of my Lord Foppington. + +_Re-enter_ LA VAROLE. + +LA VAROLE. + Milor, de shoemaker, de tailor, de hosier, de sempstress, de peru, be + all ready, if your lordship please to dress. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. + ’Tis well, admit them. + +LA VAROLE. + Hey, messieurs, entrez! + +_Enter_ TAILOR, SHOEMAKER, SEMPSTRESS, JEWELLER, _and_ MENDLEGS. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. + So, gentlemen, I hope you have all taken pains to show yourselves + masters in your professions? + +TAILOR. +I think I may presume, sir— + +LA VAROLE. +Milor, you clown, you! + +TAILOR. +My lord—I ask your lordship’s—pardon, my lord. I hope, my lord, your +lordship will be pleased to own I have brought your lordship as +accomplished a suit of clothes as ever peer of England wore, my +lord—will your lordship please to view ’em now? + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +Ay; but let my people dispose the glasses so that I may see myself +before and behind; for I love to see myself all round. [_Puts on his +clothes_.] + +_Enter_ TOM FASHION _and_ LORY. _They remain behind, conversing apart_. + +TOM FASHION. +Heyday! what the devil have we here? Sure my gentleman’s grown a +favourite at court, he has got so many people at his levee. + +LORY. +Sir, these people come in order to make him a favourite at court—they +are to establish him with the ladies. + +TOM FASHION. +Good Heaven! to what an ebb of taste are women fallen, that it should +be in the power of a laced coat to recommend a gallant to them? + +LORY. +Sir, tailors and hair-dressers debauch all the women. + +TOM FASHION. +Thou sayest true. But now for my reception. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +[_To_ TAILOR.] Death and eternal tortures! Sir—I say the coat is too +wide here by a foot. + +TAILOR. +My lord, if it had been tighter, ’twould neither have hooked nor +buttoned. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +Rat the hooks and buttons, sir! Can anything be worse than this? As Gad +shall jedge me, it hangs on my shoulders like a chairman’s surtout. + +TAILOR. +’Tis not for me to dispute your lordship’s fancy. + +LORY. +There, sir, observe what respect does. + +TOM FASHION. +Respect! damn him for a coxcomb!—But let’s accost him.—[_Coming +forward_.] Brother, I’m your humble servant. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +O Lard, Tam! I did not expect you in England. Brother, I’m glad to see +you. But what has brought you to Scarborough, Tam!—[_To the_ TAILOR.] +Look you, sir, I shall never be reconciled to this nauseous +wrapping-gown, therefore pray get me another suit with all possible +expedition; for this is my eternal aversion.—[_Exit_ TAILOR.] Well but, +Tam, you don’t tell me what has driven you to Scarborough.—Mrs. Calico, +are not you of my mind? + +_Semp_. +Directly, my lord.—I hope your lordship is pleased with your ruffles? + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +In love with them, stap my vitals!—Bring my bill, you shall be paid +tomorrow. + +_Semp_. +I humbly thank your worship. [Exit.] + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +Hark thee, shoemaker, these shoes aren’t ugly, but they don’t fit me. + +SHOEMAKER. +My lord, I think they fit you very well. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +They hurt me just below the instep. + +SHOEMAKER. +[_Feels his foot_.] No, my lord, they don’t hurt you there. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +I tell thee they pinch me execrably. + +SHOEMAKER. +Why then, my lord, if those shoes pinch you, I’ll be damned. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +Why, will thou undertake to persuade me I cannot feel? + +SHOEMAKER. +Your lordship may please to feel what you think fit, but that shoe does +not hurt you—I think I understand my trade. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +Now, by all that’s good and powerful, thou art an incomprehensive +coxcomb!—but thou makest good shoes, and so I’ll bear with thee. + +SHOEMAKER. +My lord, I have worked for half the people of quality in this town +these twenty years, and ’tis very hard I shouldn’t know when a shoe +hurts, and when it don’t. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +Well, pr’ythee be gone about thy business.—[_Exit_ SHOEMAKER.] Mr. +Mendlegs, a word with you.—The calves of these stockings are thickened +a little too much; they make my legs look like a porter’s. + +MENDLEGS. +My lord, methinks they look mighty well. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +Ay, but you are not so good a judge of those things as I am—I have +studied them all my life—therefore pray let the next be the thickness +of a crown-piece less. + +MENDLEGS. +Indeed, my lord, they are the same kind I had the honour to furnish +your lordship with in town. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +Very possibly, Mr. Mendlegs; but that was in the beginning of the +winter, and you should always remember, Mr. Hosier, that if you make a +nobleman’s spring legs as robust as his autumnal calves, you commit a +monstrous impropriety, and make no allowance for the fatigues of the +winter. [_Exit—_MENDLEGS.] + +JEWELLER. +I hope, my lord, these buckles have had the unspeakable satisfaction of +being honoured with your lordship’s approbation? + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +Why, they are of a pretty fancy; but don’t you think them rather of the +smallest? + +JEWELLER. +My lord, they could not well be larger, to keep on your lordship’s +shoe. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +My good sir, you forget that these matters are not as they used to be; +formerly, indeed, the buckle was a sort of machine, intended to keep on +the shoe; but the case is now quite reversed, and the shoe is of no +earthly use, but to keep on the buckle.—Now give me my watches [SERVANT +_fetches the watches_,] my chapeau, [SERVANT _brings a dress hat_,] my +handkerchief, [SERVANT _pours some scented liquor on a handkerchief and +brings it_,] my snuff-box [SERVANT _brings snuff-box_.] There, now the +business of the morning is pretty well over. [_Exit_ JEWELLER.] + +TOM FASHION. +[_Aside to_ LORY.] Well, Lory, what dost think on’t?—a very friendly +reception from a brother, after three years’ absence! + +LORY. +[_Aside to_ TOM FASHION.] Why, sir, ’tis your own fault—here you have +stood ever since you came in, and have not commended any one thing that +belongs to him. [SERVANTS _all go off._] + +TOM FASHION. +[_Aside to_ LORY.] Nor ever shall, while they belong to a +coxcomb.—[_To_ LORD FOPPINGTON.] Now your people of business are gone, +brother, I hope I may obtain a quarter of an hour’s audience of you? + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +Faith, Tam, I must beg you’ll excuse me at this time, for I have an +engagement which I would not break for the salvation of +mankind.—Hey!—there!—is my carriage at the door? You’ll excuse me, +brother. [_Going_.] + +TOM FASHION. +Shall you be back to dinner? + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +As Gad shall jedge me, I can’t tell; for it is passible I may dine with +some friends at Donner’s. + +TOM FASHION. +Shall I meet you there? For I must needs talk with you. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +That I’m afraid mayn’t be quite so praper; for those I commonly eat +with are people of nice conversation; and you know, Tam, your education +has been a little at large.—But there are other ordinaries in town—very +good beef ordinaries—I suppose, Tam, you can eat beef?—However, dear +Tam, I’m glad to see thee in England, stap my vitals! [_Exit_, LA +VAROLE _following_.] + +TOM FASHION. +Hell and furies! is this to be borne? + +LORY. +Faith, sir, I could almost have given him a knock o’ the pate myself. + +TOM FASHION. +’Tis enough; I will now show you the excess of my passion, by being +very calm.—Come, Lory, lay your loggerhead to mine, and, in cold blood, +let us contrive his destruction. + +LORY. +Here comes a head, sir, would contrive it better than both our +loggerheads, if she would but join in the confederacy. + +TOM FASHION. +By this light, Madam Coupler! she seems dissatisfied at something: let +us observe her. + +_Enter_ MRS. COUPLER. + +MRS. COUPLER. +So! I am likely to be well rewarded for my services, truly; my +suspicions, I find, were but too just. What! refuse to advance me a +petty sum, when I am upon the point of making him master of a galleon! +but let him look to the consequences; an ungrateful, narrow-minded +coxcomb. + +TOM FASHION. +So he is, upon my soul, old lady; it must be my brother you speak of. + +MRS. COUPLER. +Ha! stripling, how came you here? What, hast spent all, eh? And art +thou come to dun his lordship for assistance? + +TOM FASHION. +No, I want somebody’s assistance to cut his lordship’s throat, without +the risk of being hanged for him. + +MRS. COUPLER. +Egad, sirrah, I could help thee to do him almost as good a turn, +without the danger of being burned in the hand for’t. + +TOM FASHION. +How—how, old mischief? + +MRS. COUPLER. +Why, you must know I have done you the kindness to make up a match for +your brother. + +TOM FASHION. +I am very much beholden to you, truly! + +MRS. COUPLER. +You may be before the wedding-day, yet: the lady is a great heiress, +the match is concluded, the writings are drawn, and his lordship is +come hither to put the finishing hand to the business. + +TOM FASHION. +I understand as much. + +MRS. COUPLER. +Now, you must know, stripling, your brother’s a knave. + +TOM FASHION. +Good. + +MRS. COUPLER. +He has given me a bond of a thousand pounds for helping him to this +fortune, and has promised me as much more, in ready money, upon the day +of the marriage; which, I understand by a friend, he never designs to +pay me; and his just now refusing to pay me a part is a proof of it. +If, therefore, you will be a generous young rogue, and secure me five +thousand pounds, I’ll help you to the lady. + +TOM FASHION. +And how the devil wilt thou do that? + +MRS. COUPLER. +Without the devil’s aid, I warrant thee. Thy brother’s face not one of +the family ever saw; the whole business has been managed by me, and all +his letters go through my hands. Sir Tunbelly Clumsy, my relation—for +that’s the old gentleman’s name—is apprised of his lordship’s being +down here, and expects him tomorrow to receive his daughter’s hand; but +the peer, I find, means to bait here a few days longer, to recover the +fatigue of his journey, I suppose. Now you shall go to Muddymoat Hall +in his place. I’ll give you a letter of introduction: and if you don’t +marry the girl before sunset, you deserve to be hanged before morning. + +TOM FASHION. +Agreed! agreed! and for thy reward— + +MRS. COUPLER. +Well, well;—though I warrant thou hast not a farthing of money in thy +pocket now—no—one may see it in thy face. + +TOM FASHION. +Not a sous, by Jupiter! + +MRS. COUPLER. +Must I advance, then? Well, be at my lodgings, next door, this evening, +and I’ll see what may be done—we’ll sign and seal, and when I have +given thee some further instructions, thou shalt hoist sail and be +gone. [_Exit_.] + +TOM FASHION. +So, Lory, Fortune, thou seest, at last takes care of merit! We are in a +fair way to be great people. + +LORY. +Ay, sir, if the devil don’t step between the cup and the lip, as he +used to do. + +TOM FASHION. +Why, faith, he has played me many a damned trick to spoil my fortune; +and, egad, I am almost afraid he’s at work about it again now; but if I +should tell thee how, thou’dst wonder at me. + +LORY. +Indeed, sir, I should not. + +TOM FASHION. +How dost know? + +LORY. +Because, sir, I have wondered at you so often, I can wonder at you no +more. + +TOM FASHION. +No! what wouldst thou say, if a qualm of conscience should spoil my +design? + +LORY. +I would eat my words, and wonder more than ever. + +TOM FASHION. +Why faith, Lory, though I have played many a roguish trick, this is so +full-grown a cheat, I find I must take pains to come up to’t—I have +scruples. + +LORY. +They are strong symptoms of death. If you find they increase, sir, pray +make your will. + +TOM FASHION. +No, my conscience shan’t starve me neither: but thus far I’ll listen to +it. Before I execute this project, I’ll try my brother to the bottom. +If he has yet so much humanity about him as to assist me—though with a +moderate aid—I’ll drop my project at his feet, and show him how I can +do for him much more than what I’d ask he’d do for me. This one +conclusive trial of him I resolve to make. + +Succeed or fail, still victory is my lot; +If I subdue his heart, ’tis well—if not, +I will subdue my conscience to my plot. + + +[_Exeunt_.] + + + +ACT II. + +SCENE I.—LOVELESS’S _Lodgings_. + +_Enter_ LOVELESS _and_ AMANDA. + +LOVELESS. +How do you like these lodgings, my dear? For my part, I am so pleased +with them, I shall hardly remove whilst we stay here, if you are +satisfied. + +AMANDA. +I am satisfied with everything that pleases you, else I had not come to +Scarborough at all. + +LOVELESS. +Oh, a little of the noise and folly of this place will sweeten the +pleasures of our retreat; we shall find the charms of our retirement +doubled when we return to it. + +AMANDA. +That pleasing prospect will be my chiefest entertainment, whilst, much +against my will, I engage in those empty pleasures which ’tis so much +the fashion to be fond of. + +LOVELESS. +I own most of them are, indeed, but empty; yet there are delights of +which a private life is destitute, which may divert an honest man, and +be a harmless entertainment to a virtuous woman: good music is one; and +truly (with some small allowance) the plays, I think, may be esteemed +another. + +AMANDA. +Plays, I must confess, have some small charms. What do you think of +that you saw last night? + +LOVELESS. +To say truth, I did not mind it much—my attention was for some time +taken off to admire the workmanship of Nature in the face of a young +lady who sat at some distance from me, she was so exquisitely handsome. + +AMANDA. +So exquisitely handsome! + +LOVELESS. +Why do you repeat my words, my dear? + +AMANDA. +Because you seemed to speak them with such pleasure, I thought I might +oblige you with their echo. + +LOVELESS. +Then you are alarmed, Amanda? + +AMANDA. +It is my duty to be so when you are in danger. + +LOVELESS. +You are too quick in apprehending for me. I viewed her with a world of +admiration, but not one glance of love. + +AMANDA. +Take heed of trusting to such nice distinctions. But were your eyes the +only things that were inquisitive? Had I been in your place, my tongue, +I fancy, had been curious too. I should have asked her where she +lived—yet still without design—who was she, pray? + +LOVELESS. +Indeed I cannot tell. + +AMANDA. +You will not tell. + +LOVELESS. +Upon my honour, then, I did not ask. + +AMANDA. +Nor do you know what company was with her? + +LOVELESS. +I do not. But why are you so earnest? + +AMANDA. +I thought I had cause. + +LOVELESS. +But you thought wrong, Amanda; for turn the case, and let it be your +story: should you come home and tell me you had seen a handsome man, +should I grow jealous because you had eyes? + +AMANDA. +But should I tell you he was exquisitely so, and that I had gazed on +him with admiration, should you not think ’twere possible I might go +one step further, and inquire his name? + +LOVELESS. +[_Aside_.] She has reason on her side; I have talked too much; but I +must turn off another way.—[_Aloud_.] Will you then make no difference, +Amanda, between the language of our sex and yours? There is a modesty +restrains your tongues, which makes you speak by halves when you +commend; but roving flattery gives a loose to ours, which makes us +still speak double what we think. + +_Enter_ SERVANT. + +SERVANT. +Madam, there is a lady at the door in a chair desires to know whether +your ladyship sees company; her name is Berinthia. + +AMANDA. +Oh dear! ’tis a relation I have not seen these five years; pray her to +walk in.—[_Exit_ SERVANT.] Here’s another beauty for you; she was, when +I saw her last, reckoned extremely handsome. + +LOVELESS. +Don’t be jealous now; for I shall gaze upon her too. + +_Enter_ BERINTHIA. Ha! by heavens, the very woman! [_Aside_.] + +BERINTHIA. +[_Salutes_ AMANDA.] Dear Amanda, I did not expect to meet you in +Scarborough. + +AMANDA. +Sweet cousin, I’m overjoyed to see you.—Mr. Loveless, here’s a relation +and a friend of mine, I desire you’ll be better acquainted with. + +LOVELESS. +[_Salutes_ BERINTHIA.] If my wife never desires a harder thing, madam, +her request will be easily granted. + +_Re-enter_ SERVANT. + +SERVANT. +Sir, my Lord Foppington presents his humble service to you, and desires +to know how you do. He’s at the next door; and, if it be not +inconvenient to you, he’ll come and wait upon you. + +LOVELESS. +Give my compliments to his lordship, and I shall be glad to see +him.—[_Exit_ SERVANT.] If you are not acquainted with his lordship, +madam, you will be entertained with his character. + +AMANDA. +Now it moves my pity more than my mirth to see a man whom nature has +made no fool be so very industrious to pass for an ass. + +LOVELESS. +No, there you are wrong, Amanda; you should never bestow your pity upon +those who take pains for your contempt: pity those whom nature abuses, +never those who abuse nature. + +_Enter_ LORD FOPPINGTON. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +Dear Loveless, I am your most humble servant. + +LOVELESS. +My lord, I’m yours. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +Madam, your ladyship’s very obedient slave. + +LOVELESS. +My lord, this lady is a relation of my wife’s. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +[_Salutes_ BERINTHIA.] The beautifullest race of people upon earth, rat +me! Dear Loveless, I am overjoyed that you think of continuing here: I +am, stap my vitals!—[_To_ AMANDA.] For Gad’s sake, madam, how has your +ladyship been able to subsist thus long, under the fatigue of a country +life? + +AMANDA. +My life has been very far from that, my lord; it has been a very quiet +one. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +Why, that’s the fatigue I speak of, madam; for ’tis impossible to be +quiet without thinking: now thinking is to me the greatest fatigue in +the world. + +AMANDA. +Does not your lordship love reading, then? + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +Oh, passionately, madam; but I never think of what I read. For example, +madam, my life is a perpetual stream of pleasure, that glides through +with such a variety of entertainments, I believe the wisest of our +ancestors never had the least conception of any of ’em. I rise, madam, +when in town, about twelve o’clock. I don’t rise sooner, because it is +the worst thing in the world for the complexion: not that I pretend to +be a beau; but a man must endeavour to look decent, lest he makes so +odious a figure in the side-bax, the ladies should be compelled to turn +their eyes upon the play. So at twelve o’clock, I say, I rise. Naw, if +I find it is a good day, I resalve to take the exercise of riding; so +drink my chocolate, and draw on my boots by two. On my return, I dress; +and, after dinner, lounge perhaps to the opera. + +BERINTHIA. +Your lordship, I suppose, is fond of music? + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +Oh, passionately, on Tuesdays and Saturdays; for then there is always +the best company, and one is not expected to undergo the fatigue of +listening. + +AMANDA. +Does your lordship think that the case at the opera? + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +Most certainly, madam. There is my Lady Tattle, my Lady Prate, my Lady +Titter, my Lady Sneer, my Lady Giggle, and my Lady Grin—these have +boxes in the front, and while any favourite air is singing, are the +prettiest company in the waurld, stap my vitals!—Mayn’t we hope for the +honour to see you added to our society, madam? + +AMANDA. +Alas! my lord, I am the worst company in the world at a concert, I’m so +apt to attend to the music. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +Why, madam, that is very pardonable in the country or at church, but a +monstrous inattention in a polite assembly. But I am afraid I tire the +company? + +LOVELESS. +Not at all. Pray go on. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +Why then, ladies, there only remains to add, that I generally conclude +the evening at one or other of the clubs; nat that I ever play deep; +indeed I have been for some time tied up from losing above five +thousand paunds at a sitting. + +LOVELESS. +But isn’t your lordship sometimes obliged to attend the weighty affairs +of the nation? + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +Sir, as to weighty affairs, I leave them to weighty heads; I never +intend mine shall be a burden to my body. + +BERINTHIA. +Nay, my lord, but you are a pillar of the state. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +An ornamental pillar, madam; for sooner than undergo any part of the +fatigue, rat me, but the whole building should fall plump to the +ground! + +AMANDA. +But, my lord, a fine gentleman spends a great deal of his time in his +intrigues; you have given us no account of them yet. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. + [_Aside_.] So! she would inquire into my amours—that’s jealousy, poor + soul!—I see she’s in love with me.—[_Aloud_.] O Lord, madam, I had + like to have forgot a secret I must need tell your ladyship.—Ned, you + must not be so jealous now as to listen. + +LOVELESS. +[_Leading_ BERINTHIA _up the stage_.] Not I, my lord; I am too +fashionable a husband to pry into the secrets of my wife. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. + [_Aside to_ AMANDA _squeezing her hand_.] I am in love with you to + desperation, strike me speechless! + +AMANDA. +[_Strikes him on the ear_.] Then thus I return your passion.—An +impudent fool! + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +God’s curse, madam, I am a peer of the realm! + +LOVELESS. +[_Hastily returning_.] Hey! what the devil, do you affront my wife, +sir? Nay, then—[_Draws. They fight._] + +AMANDA. +What has my folly done?—Help! murder! help! Part them for Heaven’s +sake. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +[_Falls back and leans on his sword._] Ah! quite through the body, stap +my vitals! + +_Enter_ SERVANTS. + +LOVELESS. +[_Runs to_ LORD FOPPINGTON.] I hope I ha’nt killed the fool, however. +Bear him up.—Call a surgeon there. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +Ay, pray make haste. [_Exit_ SERVANT. + +LOVELESS. +This mischief you may thank yourself for. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +I may say so; love’s the devil indeed, Ned. + +_Re-enter_ SERVANT, _with_ PROBE. + +SERVANT. +Here’s Mr. Probe, sir, was just going by the door. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +He’s the welcomest man alive. + +PROBE. +Stand by, stand by, stand by; pray, gentlemen, stand by. Lord have +mercy upon us, did you never see a man run through the body +before?—Pray stand by. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +Ah, Mr. Probe, I’m a dead man. + +PROBE. +A dead man, and I by! I should laugh to see that, egad. + +LOVELESS. +Pr’ythee don’t stand prating, but look upon his wound. + +PROBE. +Why, what if I don’t look upon his wound this hour, sir? + +LOVELESS. +Why, then he’ll bleed to death, sir. + +PROBE. +Why, then I’ll fetch him to life again, sir. + +LOVELESS. +’Slife! he’s run through the body, I tell thee. + +PROBE. +I wish he was run through the heart, and I should get the more credit +by his cure. Now I hope you are satisfied? Come, now let me come at +him—now let me come at him.—[_Viewing his wound._] Oops, what a gash is +here! why, sir, a man may drive a coach and six horses into your body. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +Oh! + +PROBE. +Why, what the devil have you run the gentleman through with—a +scythe?—[_Aside_.] A little scratch between the skin and the ribs, +that’s all. + +LOVELESS. +Let me see his wound. + +PROBE. +Then you shall dress it, sir; for if anybody looks upon it I won’t. + +LOVELESS. +Why, thou art the veriest coxcomb I ever saw! + +PROBE. +Sir, I am not master of my trade for nothing. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +Surgeon! + +PROBE. +Sir. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +Are there any hopes? + +PROBE. +Hopes! I can’t tell. What are you willing to give for a cure? + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +Five hundred paunds with pleasure. + +PROBE. +Why then perhaps there may be hopes; but we must avoid further +delay.—Here, help the gentleman into a chair, and carry him to my house +presently—that’s the properest place—[_Aside_.] to bubble him out of +his money.—[_Aloud_.] Come, a chair—a chair quickly—there, in with him. + +[SERVANTS _put_ LORD FOPPINGTON _into a chair_.] + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +Dear Loveless, adieu; if I die, I forgive thee; and if I live, I hope +thou wilt do as much by me. I am sorry you and I should quarrel, but I +hope here’s an end on’t; for if you are satisfied, I am. + +LOVELESS. +I shall hardly think it worth my prosecuting any further, so you may be +at rest, sir. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +Thou art a generous fellow, strike me dumb!—[_Aside_.] But thou hast an +impertinent wife, stap my vitals! + +PROBE. +So—carry him off!—carry him off!—We shall have him into a fever +by-and-by.—Carry him off! [_Exit with_ LORD FOPPINGTON.] Enter COLONEL +TOWNLY. + +COLONEL TOWNLY. +So, so, I am glad to find you all alive.—I met a wounded peer carrying +off. For heaven’s sake what was the matter? + +LOVELESS. +Oh, a trifle! he would have made love to my wife before my face, so she +obliged him with a box o’ the ear, and I ran him through the body, that +was all. + +COLONEL TOWNLY. +Bagatelle on all sides. But pray, madam, how long has this noble lord +been an humble servant of yours? + +AMANDA. +This is the first I have heard on’t—so I suppose, ’tis his quality more +than his love has brought him into this adventure. He thinks his title +an authentic passport to every woman’s heart below the degree of a +peeress. + +COLONEL TOWNLY. +He’s coxcomb enough to think anything: but I would not have you brought +into trouble for him. I hope there’s no danger of his life? + +LOVELESS. +None at all. He’s fallen into the hands of a roguish surgeon, who, I +perceive, designs to frighten a little money out of him: but I saw his +wound—’tis nothing: he may go to the ball tonight if he pleases. + +COLONEL TOWNLY. +I am glad you have corrected him without further mischief, or you might +have deprived me of the pleasure of executing a plot against his +lordship, which I have been contriving with an old acquaintance of +yours. + +LOVELESS. +Explain. + +COLONEL TOWNLY. +His brother, Tom Fashion, is come down here, and we have it in +contemplation to save him the trouble of his intended wedding: but we +want your assistance. Tom would have called but he is preparing for his +enterprise, so I promised to bring you to him—so, sir, if these ladies +can spare you— + +LOVELESS. +I’ll go with you with all my heart.—[_Aside_.] Though I could wish, +methinks, to stay and gaze a little longer on that creature. Good gods! +how engaging she is!—but what have I to do with beauty? I have already +had my portion, and must not covet more. + +AMANDA. +Mr. Loveless, pray one word with you before you go. [_Exit_ COLONEL +TOWNLY. + +LOVELESS. +What would my dear? + +AMANDA. +Only a woman’s foolish question: how do you like my cousin here? + +LOVELESS. +Jealous already, Amanda? + +AMANDA. +Not at all: I ask you for another reason. + +LOVELESS. +[_Aside_.] Whate’er her reason be, I must not tell her true.—[_Aloud_.] +Why, I confess, she’s handsome: but you must not think I slight your +kinswoman, if I own to you, of all the women who may claim that +character, she is the last that would triumph in my heart. + +AMANDA. +I’m satisfied. + +LOVELESS. +Now tell me why you asked? + +AMANDA. +At night I will—adieu! + +LOVELESS. +I’m yours. [_Kisses her and exit_.] + +AMANDA. +I’m glad to find he does not like her, for I have a great mind to +persuade her to come and live with me. [_Aside_.] + +BERINTHIA. +So! I find my colonel continues in his airs; there must be something +more at the bottom of this than the provocation he pretends from me. +[_Aside_.] + +AMANDA. +For Heaven’s sake, Berinthia, tell me what way I shall take to persuade +you to come and live with me. + +BERINTHIA. +Why, one way in the world there is, and but one. + +AMANDA. +And pray what is that? + +BERINTHIA. +It is to assure me—I shall be very welcome. + +AMANDA. +If that be all, you shall e’en sleep here tonight. + +BERINTHIA. +Tonight. + +AMANDA. +Yes, tonight. + +BERINTHIA. +Why, the people where I lodge will think me mad. + +AMANDA. +Let ’em think what they please. + +BERINTHIA. +Say you so, Amanda? Why, then, they shall think what they please: for +I’m a young widow, and I care not what anybody thinks.—Ah, Amanda, it’s +a delicious thing to be a young widow! + +AMANDA. +You’ll hardly make me think so. + +BERINTHIA. +Poh! because you are in love with your husband. + +AMANDA. +Pray, ’tis with a world of innocence I would inquire whether you think +those we call women of reputation do really escape all other men as +they do those shadows of beaux. + +BERINTHIA. +Oh no, Amanda; there are a sort of men make dreadful work amongst ’em, +men that may be called the beau’s antipathy, for they agree in nothing +but walking upon two legs. These have brains, the beau has none. These +are in love with their mistress, the beau with himself. They take care +of their reputation, the beau is industrious to destroy it. They are +decent, he’s a fop; in short, they are men, he’s an ass. + +AMANDA. +If this be their character, I fancy we had here, e’en now, a pattern of +’em both. + +BERINTHIA. +His lordship and Colonel Townly? + +AMANDA. +The same. + +BERINTHIA. +As for the lord, he is eminently so; and for the other, I can assure +you there’s not a man in town who has a better interest with the women +that are worth having an interest with. + +AMANDA. +He answers the opinion I had ever of him. [_Takes her hand_.] I must +acquaint you with a secret—’tis not that fool alone has talked to me of +love; Townly has been tampering too. + +BERINTHIA. +[_Aside_.] So, so! here the mystery comes out!—[_Aloud_.] Colonel +Townly! impossible, my dear! + +AMANDA. +’Tis true indeed; though he has done it in vain; nor do I think that +all the merit of mankind combined could shake the tender love I bear my +husband; yet I will own to you, Berinthia, I did not start at his +addresses, as when they came from one whom I contemned. + +BERINTHIA. +[_Aside_.] Oh, this is better and better!—[_Aloud_.] Well said, +innocence! and you really think, my dear, that nothing could abate your +constancy and attachment to your husband? + +AMANDA. +Nothing, I am convinced. + +BERINTHIA. +What, if you found he loved another woman better? + +AMANDA. +Well! + +BERINTHIA. +Well!—why, were I that thing they call a slighted wife, somebody should +run the risk of being that thing they call—a husband. Don’t I talk +madly? + +AMANDA. +Madly indeed! + +BERINTHIA. +Yet I’m very innocent. + +AMANDA. +That I dare swear you are. I know how to make allowances for your +humour: but you resolve then never to marry again? + +BERINTHIA. +Oh no! I resolve I will. + +AMANDA. +How so? + +BERINTHIA. +That I never may. + +AMANDA. +You banter me. + +BERINTHIA. +Indeed I don’t: but I consider I’m a woman, and form my resolutions +accordingly. + +AMANDA. +Well, my opinion is, form what resolutions you will, matrimony will be +the end on’t. + +BERINTHIA. +I doubt it. But ah, Heavens! I have business at home, and am half an +hour too late. + +AMANDA. +As you are to return with me, I’ll just give some orders, and walk with +you. + +BERINTHIA. +Well, make haste, and we’ll finish this subject as we go—[_Exit_ +AMANDA.]. Ah, poor Amanda! you have led a country life. Well, this +discovery is lucky! Base Townly! at once false to me and treacherous to +his friend!—And my innocent and demure cousin too! I have it in my +power to be revenged on her, however. Her husband, if I have any skill +in countenance, would be as happy in my smiles as Townly can hope to be +in hers. I’ll make the experiment, come what will on’t. The woman who +can forgive the being robbed of a favoured lover, must be either an +idiot or a wanton. [_Exit_.] + + + +ACT III. + +SCENE I.—LORD FOPPINGTON’s _Lodgings. Enter_ LORD FOPPINGTON, _and_ LA +VAROLE. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +Hey, fellow, let thy _vis-à -vis_ come to the door. + +LA VAROLE. +Will your lordship venture so soon to expose yourself to the weather? + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +Sir, I will venture as soon as I can expose myself to the ladies. + +LA VAROLE. +I wish your lordship would please to keep house a little longer; I’m +afraid your honour does not well consider your wound. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +My wound!—I would not be in eclipse another day, though I had as many +wounds in my body as I have had in my heart. So mind, Varole, let these +cards be left as directed; for this evening I shall wait on my future +father-in-law, Sir Tunbelly, and I mean to commence my devoirs to the +lady, by giving an entertainment at her father’s expense; and hark +thee, tell Mr. Loveless I request he and his company will honour me +with their presence, or I shall think we are not friends. + +LA VAROLE. +I will be sure, milor. [_Exit_.] + +_Enter_ TOM FASHION. + +TOM FASHION. +Brother, your servant; how do you find yourself today? + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +So well that I have ardered my coach to the door—so there’s no danger +of death this baut, Tam. + +TOM FASHION. +I’m very glad of it. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +[_Aside_.] That I believe a lie.—[_Aloud_.] Pr’ythee, Tam, tell me one +thing—did not your heart cut a caper up to your mauth, when you heard I +was run through the bady? + +TOM FASHION. +Why do you think it should? + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +Because I remember mine did so when I heard my uncle was shot through +the head. + +TOM FASHION. +It, then, did very ill. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +Pr’ythee, why so? + +TOM FASHION. +Because he used you very well. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +Well!—Naw, strike me dumb! he starved me; he has let me want a thausand +women for want of a thausand paund. + +TOM FASHION. +Then he hindered you from making a great many ill bargains; for I think +no woman worth money that will take money. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +If I was a younger brother I should think so too. + +TOM FASHION. +Then you are seldom much in love? + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +Never, stap my vitals! + +TOM FASHION. +Why, then, did you make all this bustle about Amanda? + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +Because she’s a woman of insolent virtue, and I thought myself piqued +in honour to debauch her. + +TOM FASHION. +Very well.—[_Aside_.] Here’s a rare fellow for you, to have the +spending of ten thousand pounds a year! But now for my business with +him.—[_Aloud_.] Brother, though I know to talk of any business +(especially of money) is a theme not quite so entertaining to you as +that of the ladies, my necessities are such, I hope you’ll have +patience to hear me. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +The greatness of your necessities, Tam, is the worst argument in the +waurld for your being patiently heard. I do believe you are going to +make a very good speech, but, strike me dumb! it has the worst +beginning of any speech I have heard this twelvemonth. + +TOM FASHION. +I’m sorry you think so. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +I do believe thou art: but, come, let’s know the affair quickly. + +TOM FASHION. +Why, then, my case, in a word, is this: the necessary expenses of my +travels have so much exceeded the wretched income of my annuity, that I +have been forced to mortgage it for five hundred pounds, which is +spent. So unless you are so kind as to assist me in redeeming it, I +know no remedy but to take a purse. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +Why, faith, Tam, to give you my sense of the thing, I do think taking a +purse the best remedy in the waurld; for if you succeed, you are +relieved that way, if you are taken [_Drawing his hand round his +neck_], you are relieved t’other. + +TOM FASHION. +I’m glad to see you are in so pleasant a humour; I hope I shall find +the effects on’t. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +Why, do you then really think it a reasonable thing, that I should give +you five hundred paunds? + +TOM FASHION. +I do not ask it as a due, brother; I am willing to receive it as a +favour. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +Then thou art willing to receive it anyhow, strike me speechless! But +these are damned times to give money in; taxes are so great, repairs so +exorbitant, tenants such rogues, and bouquets so dear, that the devil +take me I’m reduced to that extremity in my cash, I have been forced to +retrench in that one article of sweet pawder, till I have brought it +down to five guineas a maunth—now judge, Tam, whether I can spare you +five paunds. + +TOM FASHION. +If you can’t I must starve, that’s all.—[_Aside_.] Damn him! + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +All I can say is, you should have been a better husband. + +TOM FASHION. +Ouns! if you can’t live upon ten thousand a year, how do you think I +should do’t upon two hundred? + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +Don’t be in a passion, Tam, for passion is the most unbecoming thing in +the waurld—to the face. Look you, I don’t love to say anything to you +to make you melancholy, but upon this occasion I must take leave to put +you in mind that a running horse does require more attendance than a +coach-horse. Nature has made some difference twixt you and me. + +TOM FASHION. +Yes—she has made you older.—[_Aside_.] Plague take her. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +That is not all, Tam. + +TOM FASHION. +Why, what is there else? + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +[_Looks first on himself and then on his brother_.] Ask the ladies. + +TOM FASHION. +Why, thou essence-bottle, thou musk-cat! dost thou then think thou hast +any advantage over me but what Fortune has given thee? + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +I do, stap my vitals! + +TOM FASHION. +Now, by all that’s great and powerful, thou art the prince of coxcombs! + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +Sir, I am proud at being at the head of so prevailing a party. + +TOM FASHION. +Will nothing provoke thee?—Draw, coward! + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +Look you, Tam, you know I have always taken you for a mighty dull +fellow, and here is one of the foolishest plats broke out that I have +seen a lang time. Your poverty makes life so burdensome to you, you +would provoke me to a quarrel, in hopes either to slip through my lungs +into my estate, or to get yourself run through the guts, to put an end +to your pain. But I will disappoint you in both your designs; far, with +the temper of a philasapher, and the discretion of a statesman—I shall +leave the room with my sword in the scabbard. [_Exit_.] + +TOM FASHION. +So! farewell, brother; and now, conscience, I defy thee. Lory! + +_Enter_ LORY. + +LORY. +Sir! + +TOM FASHION. +Here’s rare news, Lory; his lordship has given me a pill has purged off +all my scruples. + +LORY. +Then my heart’s at ease again: for I have been in a lamentable fright, +sir, ever since your conscience had the impudence to intrude into your +company. + +TOM FASHION. +Be at peace; it will come there no more: my brother has given it a +wring by the nose, and I have kicked it downstairs. So run away to the +inn, get the chaise ready quickly, and bring it to Dame Coupler’s +without a moment’s delay. + +LORY. +Then, sir, you are going straight about the fortune? + +TOM FASHION. +I am.—Away—fly, Lory! + +LORY. +The happiest day I ever saw. I’m upon the wing already. Now then I +shall get my wages. [_Exeunt_.] + +SCENE II.—_A Garden behind_ LOVELESS’S _Lodgings. Enter_ LOVELESS _and_ +SERVANT. + +LOVELESS. +Is my wife within? + +SERVANT. +No, sir, she has gone out this half-hour. + +LOVELESS. +Well, leave me.—[_Exit_ SERVANT.] How strangely does my mind run on +this widow!—Never was my heart so suddenly seized on before. That my +wife should pick out her, of all womankind, to be her playfellow! But +what fate does, let fate answer for: I sought it not. So! by Heavens! +here she comes. + +_Enter_ BERINTHIA. + +BERINTHIA. +What makes you look so thoughtful, sir? I hope you are not ill. + +LOVELESS. +I was debating, madam, whether I was so or not, and that was it which +made me look so thoughtful. + +BERINTHIA. +Is it then so hard a matter to decide? I thought all people were +acquainted with their own bodies, though few people know their own +minds. + +LOVELESS. +What if the distemper I suspect be in the mind? + +BERINTHIA. +Why then I’ll undertake to prescribe you a cure. + +LOVELESS. +Alas! you undertake you know not what. + +BERINTHIA. +So far at least, then, you allow me to be a physician. + +LOVELESS. +Nay, I’ll allow you to be so yet further: for I have reason to believe, +should I put myself into your hands, you would increase my distemper. + +BERINTHIA. +How? + +LOVELESS. +Oh, you might betray me to my wife. + +BERINTHIA. +And so lose all my practice. + +LOVELESS. +Will you then keep my secret? + +BERINTHIA. +I will. + +LOVELESS. +Well—but swear it. + +BERINTHIA. +I swear by woman. + +LOVELESS. +Nay, that’s swearing by my deity; swear by your own, and I shall +believe you. + +BERINTHIA. +Well then, I swear by man! + +LOVELESS. +I’m satisfied. Now hear my symptoms, and give me your advice. The first +were these; when I saw you at the play, a random glance you threw at +first alarmed me. I could not turn my eyes from whence the danger +came—I gazed upon you till my heart began to pant—nay, even now, on +your approaching me, my illness is so increased that if you do not help +me I shall, whilst you look on, consume to ashes. [_Takes her hand._] + +BERINTHIA. +O Lord, let me go! ’tis the plague, and we shall be infected. +[_Breaking from him._] + +LOVELESS. +Then we’ll die together, my charming angel. + +BERINTHIA. +O Gad! the devil’s in you! Lord, let me go!—here’s somebody coming. + +_Re-enter_ SERVANT. + +SERVANT. +Sir, my lady’s come home, and desires to speak with you. + +LOVELESS. +Tell her I’m coming.—[_Exit_ SERVANT.] But before I go, one glass of +nectar to drink her health. [_To_ BERINTHIA.] + +BERINTHIA. +Stand off, or I shall hate you, by Heavens! + +LOVELESS. +[_Kissing her_.] In matters of love, a woman’s oath is no more to be +minded than a man’s. [_Exit._] + +BERINTHIA. +Um! + +_Enter_ COLONEL TOWNLY. + +COLONEL TOWNLY. +[_Aside_.] So? what’s here—Berinthia and Loveless—and in such close +conversation!—I cannot now wonder at her indifference in excusing +herself to me!—O rare woman!—Well then, let Loveless look to his wife, +’twill be but the retort courteous on both sides.—[_Aloud_.] Your +servant, madam; I need not ask you how you do, you have got so good a +colour. + +BERINTHIA. +No better than I used to have, I suppose. + +COLONEL TOWNLY. +A little more blood in your cheeks. + +BERINTHIA. +I have been walking! + +COLONEL TOWNLY. +Is that all? Pray was it Mr. Loveless went from here just now? + +BERINTHIA. +O yes—he has been walking with me. + +COLONEL TOWNLY. +He has! + +BERINTHIA. +Upon my word I think he is a very agreeable man; and there is certainly +something particularly insinuating in his address. + +COLONEL TOWNLY. +[_Aside_.] So, so! she hasn’t even the modesty to dissemble! [_Aloud_.] +Pray, madam, may I, without impertinence, trouble you with a few +serious questions? + +BERINTHIA. +As many as you please; but pray let them be as little serious as +possible. + +COLONEL TOWNLY. +Is it not near two years since I have presumed to address you? + +BERINTHIA. +I don’t know exactly—but it has been a tedious long time. + +COLONEL TOWNLY. + Have I not, during that period, had every reason to believe that my + assiduities were far from being unacceptable? + +BERINTHIA. +Why, to do you justice, you have been extremely troublesome—and I +confess I have been more civil to you than you deserved. + +COLONEL TOWNLY. + Did I not come to this place at your express desire, and for no + purpose but the honour of meeting you?—and after waiting a month in + disappointment, have you condescended to explain, or in the slightest + way apologise for, your conduct? + +BERINTHIA. +O heavens! apologise for my conduct!—apologise to you! O you barbarian! +But pray now, my good serious colonel, have you anything more to add? + +COLONEL TOWNLY. + Nothing, madam, but that after such behaviour I am less surprised at + what I saw just now; it is not very wonderful that the woman who can + trifle with the delicate addresses of an honourable lover should be + found coquetting with the husband of her friend. + +BERINTHIA. +Very true: no more wonderful than it was for this honourable lover to +divert himself in the absence of this coquette, with endeavouring to +seduce his friend’s wife! O colonel, colonel, don’t talk of honour or +your friend, for Heaven’s sake! + +COLONEL TOWNLY. +[_Aside.]_ ’Sdeath! how came she to suspect this!—[_Aloud._] Really, +madam, I don’t understand you. + +BERINTHIA. +Nay, nay, you saw I did not pretend to misunderstand you.—But here +comes the lady; perhaps you would be glad to be left with her for an +explanation. + +COLONEL TOWNLY. + O madam, this recrimination is a poor resource; and to convince you + how much you are mistaken, I beg leave to decline the happiness you + propose me.—Madam, your servant. + +_Enter_ AMANDA. COLONEL TOWNLY _whispers_ AMANDA, _and exit_. + +BERINTHIA. [_Aside._] He carries it off well, however; upon my word, +very well! How tenderly they part!—[_Aloud_] So, cousin; I hope you +have not been chiding your admirer for being with me? I assure you we +have been talking of you. + +AMANDA. +Fy, Berinthia!—my admirer! will you never learn to talk in earnest of +anything? + +BERINTHIA. +Why this shall be in earnest, if you please; for my part, I only tell +you matter of fact. + +AMANDA. +I’m sure there’s so much jest and earnest in what you say to me on this +subject, I scarce know how to take it. I have just parted with Mr. +Loveless; perhaps it is fancy, but I think there is an alteration in +his manner which alarms me. + +BERINTHIA. +And so you are jealous; is that all? + +AMANDA. +That all! is jealousy, then, nothing? + +BERINTHIA. +It should be nothing, if I were in your case. + +AMANDA. +Why, what would you do? + +BERINTHIA. +I’d cure myself. + +AMANDA. +How? + +BERINTHIA. +Care as little for my husband as he did for me. Look you, Amanda, you +may build castles in the air, and fume, and fret, and grow thin, and +lean, and pale, and ugly, if you please; but I tell you, no man worth +having is true to his wife, or ever was, or ever will be so. + +AMANDA. +Do you then really think he’s false to me? for I did not suspect him. + +BERINTHIA. +Think so? I am sure of it. + +AMANDA. +You are sure on’t? + +BERINTHIA. +Positively—he fell in love at the play. + +AMANDA. +Right—the very same. But who could have told you this? + +BERINTHIA. +Um!—Oh, Townly! I suppose your husband has made him his confidant. + +AMANDA. +O base Loveless! And what did Townly say on’t? + +BERINTHIA. +[_Aside_.] So, so! why should she ask that?—[_Aloud_.] Say! why he +abused Loveless extremely, and said all the tender things of you in the +world. + +AMANDA. +Did he?—Oh! my heart!—I’m very ill—dear Berinthia, don’t leave me a +moment. [_Exeunt_.] + +SCENE III.—_Outside of_ SIR TUNRELLY CLUMSY’S _House_. + +_Enter_ TOM FASHION _and_ LORY. + +TOM FASHION. +So here’s our inheritance, Lory, if we can but get into possession. But +methinks the seat of our family looks like Noah’s ark, as if the chief +part on’t were designed for the fowls of the air, and the beasts of the +field. + +LORY. +Pray, sir, don’t let your head run upon the orders of building here: +get but the heiress, let the devil take the house. + +TOM FASHION. +Get but the house, let the devil take the heiress! I say.—But come, we +have no time to squander; knock at the door.—[LORY _knocks two or three +times at the gate._] What the devil! have they got no ears in this +house?—Knock harder. + +LORY. +Egad, sir, this will prove some enchanted castle; we shall have the +giant come out by-and-by, with his club, and beat our brains out. +[_Knocks again._] + +TOM FASHION. +Hush, they come. + +SERVANT. +[_Within._ ] Who is there? + +LORY. +Open the door and see: is that your country breeding? + +SERVANT. +Ay, but two words to that bargain.—Tummus, is the blunderbuss primed? + +TOM FASHION. +Ouns! give ’em good words, Lory,—or we shall be shot here a fortune +catching. + +LORY. +Egad, sir, I think you’re in the right on’t.—Ho! Mr. +What-d’ye-call-’um, will you please to let us in? or are we to be left +to grow like willows by your moat side? SERVANT _appears at the window +with a blunderbuss._ + +SERVANT. +Well naw, what’s ya’re business? + +TOM FASHION. +Nothing, sir, but to wait upon Sir Tunbelly, with your leave. + +SERVANT. +To weat upon Sir Tunbelly! why, you’ll find that’s just as Sir Tunbelly +pleases. + +TOM FASHION. +But will you do me the favour, sir, to know whether Sir Tunbelly +pleases or not? + +SERVANT. +Why, look you, d’ye see, with good words much may be done. Ralph, go +thy ways, and ask Sir Tunbelly if he pleases to be waited upon—and dost +hear, call to nurse, that she may lock up Miss Hoyden before the gates +open. + +TOM FASHION. +D’ye hear, that, Lory? + +_Enter SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY, with SERVANTS, armed with guns, clubs, +pitchforks, &c_. + +LORY. +Oh! [_Runs behind his master_.] O Lord! O Lord! Lord! we are both dead +men! + +TOM FASHION. +Fool! thy fear will, ruin us. [_Aside to LORY_.] + +LORY. +My fear, sir? ’sdeath, Sir, I fear nothing.—[_Aside_.] Would I were +well up to the chin in a horse-pond! + +SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. +Who is it here hath any business with me? + +TOM FASHION. +Sir, ’tis I, if your name be Sir Tunbelly Clumsy. + +SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. +Sir, my name is Sir Tunbelly Clumsy, whether you have any business with +me or not.—So you see I am not ashamed of my name, nor my face either. + +TOM FASHION. +Sir, you have no cause that I know of. + +SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. +Sir, if you have no cause either, I desire to know who you are; for, +till I know your name, I shan’t ask you to come into my house: and when +I do know your name, ’tis six to four I don’t ask you then. + +TOM FASHION. +Sir, I hope you’ll find this letter an authentic passport. [_Gives him +a letter_.] + +SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. +Cod’s my life, from Mrs. Coupler!—I ask your lordship’s pardon ten +thousand times.—[_To a SERVANT_.] Here, run in a-doors quickly; get a +Scotch coal fire in the parlour, set all the Turkey work chairs in +their places, get the brass candlesticks out, and be sure stick the +socket full of laurel—run!—[_Turns to TOM FASHION_.]—My lord, I ask +your lordship’s pardon.—[_To SERVANT_.] And, do you hear, run away to +nurse; bid her let Miss Hoyden loose again.—[_Exit SERVANT_.] I hope +your honour will excuse the disorder of my family. We are not used to +receive men of your lordship’s great quality every day. Pray, where are +your coaches and servants, my lord? + +TOM FASHION. +Sir, that I might give you and your daughter a proof how impatient I am +to be nearer akin to you, I left my equipage to follow me, and came +away post with only one servant. + +SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. +Your lordship does me too much honour—it was exposing your person to +too much fatigue and danger, I protest it was: but my daughter shall +endeavour to make you what amends she can: and, though I say it that +should not say it, Hoyden has charms. + +TOM FASHION. +Sir, I am not a stranger to them, though I am to her; common fame has +done her justice. + +SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. +My lord, I am common fame’s very grateful, humble servant. My lord, my +girl’s young—Hoyden is young, my lord: but this I must say for her, +what she wants in art she has in breeding; and what’s wanting in her +age, is made good in her constitution.—So pray, my lord, walk in; pray, +my lord, walk in. + +TOM FASHION. +Sir, I wait upon you. [_Exeunt_.] + +SCENE IV.—_A Room in_ SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY’S _House_. MISS HOYDEN +_discovered alone_. + +MISS HOYDEN. +Sure, nobody was ever used as I am! I know well enough what other girls +do, for all they think to make a fool o’ me. It’s well I have a husband +a-coming, or ecod I’d marry the baker, I would so. Nobody can knock at +the gate, but presently I must be locked up; and here’s the young +greyhound can run loose about the house all the day, so she can.—’Tis +very well! + +NURSE. +[_Without opening the door_.] Miss Hoyden! miss, miss, miss! Miss +Hoyden! + +_Enter_ NURSE. + +MISS HOYDEN. +Well, what do you make such a noise for, eh? What do you din a body’s +ears for? Can’t one be at quiet for you? + +NURSE. +What do I din your ears for? Here’s one come will din your ears for +you. + +MISS HOYDEN. +What care I who’s come? I care not a fig who comes, or who goes, so +long as I must be locked up like the ale-cellar. + +NURSE. +That, miss, is for fear you should be drank before you are ripe. + +MISS HOYDEN. +Oh, don’t trouble your head about that; I’m as ripe as you, though not +so mellow. + +NURSE. +Very well! Now I have a good mind to lock you up again, and not let you +see my lord tonight. + +MISS HOYDEN. +My lord: why, is my husband come? + +NURSE. +Yes, marry, is he; and a goodly person too. + +MISS HOYDEN. +[_Hugs_ NURSE.] Oh, my dear nurse, forgive me this once, and I’ll never +misuse you again; no, if I do, you shall give me three thumps on the +back, and a great pinch by the cheek. + +NURSE. +Ah, the poor thing! see now it melts; it’s as full of good-nature as an +egg’s full of meat. + +MISS HOYDEN. +But, my dear nurse, don’t lie now—is he come, by your troth? + +NURSE. +Yes, by my truly, is he. + +MISS HOYDEN. +O Lord! I’ll go and put on my laced tucker, though I’m locked up for a +month for’t. [_Exeunt_. +MISS HOYDEN _goes off capering, and twirling her doll by its leg._] + + + +ACT IV. + +SCENE I.—_A Room in_ SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY’S _House._ + +_Enter_ MISS HOYDEN _and_ NURSE. + +NURSE. +Well, miss, how do you like your husband that is to be? + +MISS HOYDEN. +O Lord, nurse, I’m so overjoyed I can scarce contain myself! + +NURSE. +Oh, but you must have a care of being too fond; for men, nowadays, hate +a woman that loves ’em. + +MISS HOYDEN. +Love him! why, do you think I love him, nurse? Ecod I would not care if +he was hanged, so I were but once married to him. No, that which +pleases me is to think what work I’ll make when I get to London; for +when I am a wife and a lady both, ecod, I’ll flaunt it with the best of +’em. Ay, and I shall have money enough to do so too, nurse. + +NURSE. +Ah, there’s no knowing that, miss; for though these lords have a power +of wealth indeed, yet, as I have heard say, they give it all to their +sluts and their trulls, who joggle it about in their coaches, with a +murrain to ’em, whilst poor madam sits sighing and wishing, and has not +a spare half-crown to buy her a Practice of Piety. + +MISS HOYDEN. +Oh, but for that, don’t deceive yourself, nurse; for this I must say of +my lord, he’s as free as an open house at Christmas; for this very +morning he told me I should have six hundred a year to buy pins. Now if +he gives me six hundred a year to buy pins, what do you think he’ll +give me to buy petticoats? + +NURSE. +Ay, my dearest, he deceives thee foully, and he’s no better than a +rogue for his pains! These Londoners have got a gibberish with ’em +would confound a gipsy. That which they call pin-money, is to buy +everything in the versal world, down to their very shoe-knots. Nay, I +have heard some folks say that some ladies, if they’ll have gallants as +they call ’em, are forced to find them out of their pin-money too.—But +look, look, if his honour be not coming to you!—Now, if I were sure you +would behave yourself handsomely, and not disgrace me that have brought +you up, I’d leave you alone together. + +MISS HOYDEN. +That’s my best nurse; do as you’d be done by. Trust us together this +once, and if I don’t show my breeding, I wish I may never be married, +but die an old maid. + +NURSE. +Well, this once I’ll venture you. But if you disparage me— + +MISS HOYDEN. +Never fear. [_Exit_ NURSE.] + +_Enter_ TOM FASHION. + +TOM FASHION. +Your servant, madam; I’m glad to find you alone, for I have something +of importance to speak to you about. + +MISS HOYDEN. +Sir (my lord, I meant), you may speak to me about what you please, I +shall give you a civil answer. + +TOM FASHION. +You give so obliging an one, it encourages me to tell you in a few +words what I think, both for your interest and mine. Your father, I +suppose you know, has resolved to make me happy in being your husband; +and I hope I may obtain your consent to perform what he desires. + +MISS HOYDEN. +Sir, I never disobey my father in anything but eating green +gooseberries. + +TOM FASHION. +So good a daughter must needs be an admirable wife. I am therefore +impatient till you are mine, and hope you will so far consider the +violence of my love, that you won’t have the cruelty to defer my +happiness so long as your father designs it. + +MISS HOYDEN. +Pray, my lord, how long is that? + +TOM FASHION. +Madam, a thousand years—a whole week. + +MISS HOYDEN. +Why, I thought it was to be tomorrow morning, as soon as I was up. I’m +sure nurse told me so. + +TOM FASHION. +And it shall be tomorrow morning, if you’ll consent. + +MISS HOYDEN. +If I’ll consent! Why I thought I was to obey you as my husband. + +TOM FASHION. +That’s when we are married. Till then, I’m to obey you. + +MISS HOYDEN. +Why then, if we are to take it by turns, it’s the same thing. I’ll obey +you now, and when we are married you shall obey me. + +TOM FASHION. +With all my heart. But I doubt we must get nurse on our side, or we +shall hardly prevail with the chaplain. + +MISS HOYDEN. +No more we shan’t, indeed; for he loves her better than he loves his +pulpit, and would always be a-preaching to her by his good will. + +TOM FASHION. +Why then, my dear, if you’ll call her hither we’ll persuade her +presently. + +MISS HOYDEN. +O Lud! I’ll tell you a way how to persuade her to anything. + +TOM FASHION. +How’s that? + +MISS HOYDEN. +Why tell her she’s a handsome comely woman, and give her half a crown. + +TOM FASHION. +Nay, if that will do, she shall have half a score of ’em. + +MISS HOYDEN. +O gemini! for half that she’d marry you herself.—I’ll run and call her. +[_Exit._] + +TOM FASHION. +So! matters go on swimmingly. This is a rare girl, i’faith. I shall +have a fine time on’t with her at London. + +_Enter_ LORY. So, Lory, what’s the matter? + +LORY. +Here, sir—an intercepted packet from the enemy; your brother’s +postilion brought it. I knew the livery, pretended to be a servant of +Sir Tunbelly’s, and so got possession of the letter. + +TOM FASHION. +[_Looks at the letter_.] Ouns! he tells Sir Tunbelly here that he will +be with him this evening, with a large party to supper.—Egad, I must +marry the girl directly. + +LORY. +Oh, zounds, sir, directly to be sure. Here she comes. [_Exit_.] + +TOM FASHION. +And the old Jezebel with her. + +_Re-enter_ MISS HOYDEN _and_ NURSE. How do you do, good Mrs. Nurse? I +desired your young lady would give me leave to see you, that I might +thank you for your extraordinary care and kind conduct in her +education: pray accept this small acknowledgment for it at present, and +depend upon my further kindness when I shall be that happy thing, her +husband. [_Gives her money._] + +NURSE. +[_Aside_.] Gold, by the maakins!—[_Aloud_.] Your honour’s goodness is +too great. Alas! all I can boast of is, I gave her pure and good milk, +and so your honour would have said, an you had seen how the poor thing +thrived, and how it would look up in my face, and crow and laugh, it +would. + +MISS HOYDEN. +[_To_ NURSE, _taking her angrily aside_.] Pray, one word with you. +Pr’ythee, nurse, don’t stand ripping up old stories, to make one +ashamed before one’s love. Do you think such a fine proper gentleman as +he is cares for a fiddlecome tale of a child? If you have a mind to +make him have a good opinion of a woman, don’t tell him what one did +then, tell him what one can do now.—[_To_ Tom FASHION.] I hope your +honour will excuse my mis-manners to whisper before you. It was only to +give some orders about the family. + +TOM FASHION. +Oh, everything, madam, is to give way to business; besides, good +housewifery is a very commendable quality in a young lady. + +MISS HOYDEN. +Pray, sir, are young ladies good housewives at London-town? Do they +darn their own linen? + +TOM FASHION. +Oh no, they study how to spend money, not to save. + +MISS HOYDEN. +Ecod, I don’t know but that may be better sport, eh, nurse? + +TOM FASHION. +Well, you have your choice, when you come there. + +MISS HOYDEN. +Shall I? then, by my troth, I’ll get there as fast as I can.—[_To_ +NURSE.] His honour desires you’ll be so kind as to let us be married +tomorrow. + +NURSE. +Tomorrow, my dear madam? + +TOM FASHION. +Ay, faith, nurse, you may well be surprised at miss’s wanting to put it +off so long. Tomorrow! no, no; ’tis now, this very hour, I would have +the ceremony performed. + +MISS HOYDEN. +Ecod, with all my heart. + +NURSE. +O mercy! worse and worse! + +TOM FASHION. +Yes, sweet nurse, now and privately; for all things being signed and +sealed, why should Sir Tunbelly make us stay a week for a +wedding-dinner? + +NURSE. +But if you should be married now, what will you do when Sir Tunbelly +calls for you to be married? + +MISS HOYDEN. +Why then we will be married again. + +NURSE. +What twice, my child? + +MISS HOYDEN. +Ecod, I don’t care how often I’m married, not I. + +NURSE. +Well, I’m such a tender-hearted fool, I find I can refuse you nothing. +So you shall e’en follow your own inventions. + +MISS HOYDEN. +Shall I? O Lord, I could leap over the moon! + +TOM FASHION. +Dear nurse, this goodness of yours shall be still more rewarded. But +now you must employ your power with the chaplain, that he may do this +friendly office too, and then we shall be all happy. Do you think you +can prevail with him? + +NURSE. +Prevail with him! or he shall never prevail with me, I can tell him +that. + +TOM FASHION. +I’m glad to hear it; however, to strengthen your interest with him, you +may let him know I have several fat livings in my gift, and that the +first that falls shall be in your disposal. + +NURSE. +Nay, then, I’ll make him marry more folks than one, I’ll promise him! + +MISS HOYDEN. +Faith, do, nurse, make him marry you too; I’m sure he’ll do’t for a fat +living. + +TOM FASHION. +Well, nurse, while you go and settle matters with him, your lady and I +will go and take a walk in the garden.—[_Exit_ NURSE.] Come, madam, +dare you venture yourself alone with me? [_Takes_ MISS HOYDEN _by the +hand.] Miss Hoyd._ Oh dear, yes, sir; I don’t think you’ll do anythink +to me, I need be afraid on. [_Exeunt._] + +SCENE II.—AMANDA’s _Dressing-room._ + +_Enter_ AMANDA _followed by her_ MAID. + +_Maid._ If you please, madam, only to say whether you’ll have me buy +them or not? + +AMANDA. +Yes—no—Go, teaser; I care not what you do. Pr’ythee, leave me. [_Exit_ +MAID.] + +_Enter_ BERINTHIA. + +BERINTHIA. +What, in the name of Jove, is the matter with you? + +AMANDA. +The matter, Berinthia! I’m almost mad; I’m plagued to death. + +BERINTHIA. +Who is it that plagues you? + +AMANDA. +Who do you think should plague a wife but her husband? + +BERINTHIA. +O, ho! is it come to that?—We shall have you wish yourself a widow, +by-and-by. + +AMANDA. +Would I were anything but what I am! A base, ungrateful man, to use me +thus! + +BERINTHIA. +What, has he given you fresh reason to suspect his wandering? + +AMANDA. +Every hour gives me reason. + +BERINTHIA. +And yet, Amanda, you perhaps at this moment cause in another’s breast +the same tormenting doubts and jealousies which you feel so sensibly +yourself. + +AMANDA. +Heaven knows I would not. + +BERINTHIA. +Why, you can’t tell but there may be some one as tenderly attached to +Townly, whom you boast of as your conquest, as you can be to your +husband? + +AMANDA. +I’m sure, I never encouraged his pretensions. + +BERINTHIA. +Psha! psha! no sensible man ever perseveres to love without +encouragement. Why have you not treated him as you have Lord +Foppington? + +AMANDA. +Because he presumed not so far. But let us drop the subject. Men, not +women, are riddles. Mr. Loveless now follows some flirt for variety, +whom I’m sure he does not like so well as he does me. + +BERINTHIA. +That’s more than you know, madam. + +AMANDA. +Why, do you know the ugly thing? + +BERINTHIA. +I think I can guess at the person; but she’s no such ugly thing +neither. + +AMANDA. +Is she very handsome? + +BERINTHIA. +Truly I think so. + +AMANDA. +Whate’er she be, I’m sure he does not like her well enough to bestow +anything more than a little outward gallantry upon her. + +BERINTHIA. +[_Aside._] Outward gallantry! I can’t bear this.—[_Aloud._] Come, come, +don’t you be too secure, Amanda: while you suffer Townly to imagine +that you do not detest him for his designs on you, you have no right to +complain that your husband is engaged elsewhere. But here comes the +person we were speaking of. + +_Enter_ COLONEL TOWNLY. + +COLONEL TOWNLY. + Ladies, as I come uninvited, I beg, if I intrude, you will use the + same freedom in turning me out again. + +AMANDA. +I believe it is near the time Loveless said he would be at home. He +talked of accepting Lord Foppington’s invitation to sup at Sir Tunbelly +Clumsy’s. + +COLONEL TOWNLY. + His lordship has done me the honour to invite me also. If you’ll let + me escort you, I’ll let you into a mystery as we go, in which you must + play a part when we arrive. + +AMANDA. +But we have two hours yet to spare; the carriages are not ordered till +eight, and it is not a five minutes’ drive. So, cousin, let us keep the +colonel to play at piquet with us, till Mr. Loveless comes home. + +BERINTHIA. +As you please, madam; but you know I have a letter to write. + +COLONEL TOWNLY. + Madam, you know you may command me, though I am a very wretched + gamester. + +AMANDA. +Oh, you play well enough to lose your money, and that’s all the ladies +require; and so, without any more ceremony, let us go into the next +room, and call for cards and candles. [_Exeunt._] + +SCENE III.—BERINTHIA’S _Dressing-room._ + +_Enter_ LOVELESS. + +LOVELESS. +So, thus far all’s well: I have got into her dressing-room, and it +being dusk, I think nobody has perceived me steal into the house. I +heard Berinthia tell my wife she had some particular letters to write +this evening, before she went to Sir Tunbelly’s, and here are the +implements of correspondence.—How shall I muster up assurance to show +myself, when she comes? I think she has given me encouragement; and, to +do my impudence justice, I have made the most of it.—I hear a door +open, and some one coming. If it should be my wife, what the devil +should I say? I believe she mistrusts me, and, by my life, I don’t +deserve her tenderness. However, I am determined to reform, though not +yet. Ha! Berinthia!—So, I’ll step in here, till I see what sort of +humour she is in. [_Goes into the closet_.] + +_Enter_ BERINTHIA. + +BERINTHIA. +Was ever so provoking a situation! To think I should sit and hear him +compliment Amanda to my face! I have lost all patience with them both! +I would not for something have Loveless know what temper of mind they +have piqued me into; yet I can’t bear to leave them together. No, I’ll +put my papers away, and return, to disappoint them.—[_Goes to the +closet_.]—O Lord! a ghost! a ghost! a ghost! + +_Re-enter_ LOVELESS. + +LOVELESS. +Peace, my angel; it’s no ghost, but one worth a hundred spirits. + +BERINTHIA. +How, sir, have you had the insolence to presume to—run in again; here’s +somebody coming. [LOVELESS _goes into the closet_.] + +_Enter_ MAID. + +MAID. +O Lord, ma’am, what’s the matter? + +BERINTHIA. +O Heavens! I’m almost frightened out of my wits! I thought verily I had +seen a ghost, and ’twas nothing but a black hood pinned against the +wall. You may go again; I am the fearfullest fool! [Exit MAID.] + +_Re-enter_ LOVELESS. + +LOVELESS. +Is the coast clear? + +BERINTHIA. +The coast clear! Upon my word, I wonder at your assurance. + +LOVELESS. +Why, then, you wonder before I have given you a proof of it. But +where’s my wife? + +BERINTHIA. +At cards. + +LOVELESS. +With whom? + +BERINTHIA. +With Townly. + +LOVELESS. +Then we are safe enough. + +BERINTHIA. +You are so! Some husbands would be of another mind, were he at cards +with their wives. + +LOVELESS. +And they’d be in the right on’t, too; but I dare trust mine. + +BERINTHIA. +Indeed! and she, I doubt not, has the same confidence in you. Yet, do +you think she’d be content to come and find you here? + +LOVELESS. +Egad, as you say, that’s true!—Then for fear she should come, hadn’t we +better go into the next room, out of her way? + +BERINTHIA. +What, in the dark? + +LOVELESS. +Ay, or with a light, which you please. + +BERINTHIA. +You are certainly very impudent. + +LOVELESS. +Nay, then—let me conduct you, my angel! + +BERINTHIA. +Hold, hold! you are mistaken in your angel, I assure you. + +LOVELESS. +I hope not; for by this hand I swear— + +BERINTHIA. +Come, come, let go my hand, or I shall hate you!—I’ll cry out, as I +live! + +LOVELESS. +Impossible! you cannot be so cruel. + +BERINTHIA. +Ha! here’s some one coming. Begone instantly. + +LOVELESS. +Will you promise to return, if I remain here? + +BERINTHIA. +Never trust myself in a room again with you while I live. + +LOVELESS. +But I have something particular to communicate to you. + +BERINTHIA. +Well, well, before we go to Sir Tunbelly’s, I’ll walk upon the lawn. If +you are fond of a moonlight evening, you’ll find me there. + +LOVELESS. +I’faith, they’re coming here now! I take you at your word. [_Exit into +the closet_.] + +BERINTHIA. +’Tis Amanda, as I live! I hope she has not heard his voice; though I +mean she should have her share of jealousy in her turn. + +_Enter_ AMANDA. + +AMANDA. +Berinthia, why did you leave me? + +BERINTHIA. +I thought I only spoiled your party. + +AMANDA. +Since you have been gone, Townly has attempted to renew his +importunities. I must break with him, for I cannot venture to acquaint +Mr. Loveless with his conduct. + +BERINTHIA. +Oh, no! Mr. Loveless mustn’t know of it by any means. + +AMANDA. +Oh, not for the world—I wish, Berinthia, you would undertake to speak +to Townly on the subject. + +BERINTHIA. +Upon my word, it would be a very pleasant subject for me to talk upon! +But, come, let us go back; and you may depend on’t I’ll not leave you +together again, if I can help it. [_Exeunt_.] + +_Re-enter_ LOVELESS. + +LOVELESS. +So—so! a pretty piece of business I have overheard! Townly makes love +to my wife, and I am not to know it for all the world. I must inquire +into this—and, by Heaven, if I find that Amanda has, in the smallest +degree—yet what have I been at here!—Oh, ’sdeath! that’s no rule. + +That wife alone unsullied credit wins, +Whose virtues can atone her husband’s sins, +Thus, while the man has other nymphs in view, +It suits the woman to be doubly true. +[_Exit_.] + + + + +ACT V. + +SCENE I.—_The Garden behind_ LOVELESS’s _Lodgings_. + +_Enter_ LOVELESS. + +LOVELESS. +Now, does she mean to make a fool of me, or not! I shan’t wait much +longer, for my wife will soon be inquiring for me to set out on our +supping party. Suspense is at all times the devil, but of all modes of +suspense, the watching for a loitering mistress is the worst.—But let +me accuse her no longer; she approaches with one smile to o’erpay the +anxieties of a year. + +_Enter_ BERINTHIA. O Berinthia, what a world of kindness are you in my +debt! had you stayed five minutes longer— + +BERINTHIA. +You would have gone, I suppose? + +LOVELESS. +Egad, she’s right enough. [_Aside._] + +BERINTHIA. +And I assure you ’twas ten to one that I came at all. In short, I begin +to think you are too dangerous a being to trifle with; and as I shall +probably only make a fool of you at last, I believe we had better let +matters rest as they are. + +LOVELESS. +You cannot mean it, sure? + +BERINTHIA. +What more would you have me give to a married man? + +LOVELESS. +How doubly cruel to remind me of my misfortunes! + +BERINTHIA. +A misfortune to be married to so charming a woman as Amanda? + +LOVELESS. +I grant her all her merit, but—’sdeath! now see what you have done by +talking of her—she’s here, by all that’s unlucky, and Townly with +her.—I’ll observe them. + +BERINTHIA. +O Gad, we had better get out of the way; for I should feel as awkward +to meet her as you. + +LOVELESS. +Ay, if I mistake not, I see Townly coming this way also. I must see a +little into this matter. [_Steps aside_.] + +BERINTHIA. +Oh, if that’s your intention, I am no woman if I suffer myself to be +outdone in curiosity. [_Goes on the other side_.] + +_Enter_ AMANDA. + +AMANDA. +Mr. Loveless come home, and walking on the lawn! I will not suffer him +to walk so late, though perhaps it is to show his neglect of me.—Mr. +Loveless, I must speak with you.—Ha! Townly again!—How I am persecuted! + +_Enter_ COLONEL TOWNLY. + +COLONEL TOWNLY. +Madam, you seem disturbed. + +AMANDA. +Sir, I have reason. + +COLONEL TOWNLY. +Whatever be the cause, I would to Heaven it were in my power to bear +the pain, or to remove the malady. + +AMANDA. +Your interference can only add to my distress. + +COLONEL TOWNLY. +Ah, madam, if it be the sting of unrequited love you suffer from, seek +for your remedy in revenge: weigh well the strength and beauty of your +charms, and rouse up that spirit a woman ought to bear. Disdain the +false embraces of a husband. See at your feet a real lover; his zeal +may give him title to your pity, although his merit cannot claim your +love. + +LOVELESS. +So, so, very fine, i’faith! [_Aside_.] + +AMANDA. +Why do you presume to talk to me thus? Is this your friendship to Mr. +Loveless? I perceive you will compel me at last to acquaint him with +your treachery. + +COLONEL TOWNLY. +He could not upbraid me if you were.—He deserves it from me; for he has +not been more false to you than faithless to me. + +AMANDA. +To you? + +COLONEL TOWNLY. +Yes, madam; the lady for whom he now deserts those charms which he was +never worthy of, was mine by right; and, I imagine too, by inclination. +Yes, madam, Berinthia, who now— + +AMANDA. +Berinthia! Impossible! + +COLONEL TOWNLY. +’Tis true, or may I never merit your attention. She is the deceitful +sorceress who now holds your husband’s heart in bondage. + +AMANDA. +I will not believe it. + +COLONEL TOWNLY. +By the faith of a true lover, I speak from conviction. This very day I +saw them together, and overheard— + +AMANDA. +Peace, sir! I will not even listen to such slander—this is a poor +device to work on my resentment, to listen to your insidious addresses. +No, sir; though Mr. Loveless may be capable of error, I am convinced I +cannot be deceived so grossly in him as to believe what you now report; +and for Berinthia, you should have fixed on some more probable person +for my rival than her who is my relation and my friend: for while I am +myself free from guilt, I will never believe that love can beget +injury, or confidence create ingratitude. + +COLONEL TOWNLY. +If I do not prove to you— + +AMANDA. +You never shall have an opportunity. From the artful manner in which +you first showed yourself to me, I might have been led, as far as +virtue permitted, to have thought you less criminal than unhappy; but +this last unmanly artifice merits at once my resentment and contempt. +[_Exit_.] + +COLONEL TOWNLY. +Sure there’s divinity about her; and she has dispensed some portion of +honour’s light to me: yet can I bear to lose Berinthia without revenge +or compensation? Perhaps she is not so culpable as I thought her. I was +mistaken when I began to think lightly of Amanda’s virtue, and may be +in my censure of my Berinthia. Surely I love her still, for I feel I +should be happy to find myself in the wrong. [_Exit_.] + +_Re-enter_ LOVELESS _and_ BERINTHIA. + +BERINTHIA. +Your servant, Mr. Loveless. + +LOVELESS. +Your servant, madam. + +BERINTHIA. +Pray what do you think of this? + +LOVELESS. +Truly, I don’t know what to say. + +BERINTHIA. +Don’t you think we steal forth two contemptible creatures? + +LOVELESS. +Why, tolerably so, I must confess. + +BERINTHIA. +And do you conceive it possible for you ever to give Amanda the least +uneasiness again? + +LOVELESS. +No, I think we never should indeed. + +BERINTHIA. +We! why, monster, you don’t pretend that I ever entertained a thought? + +LOVELESS. +Why then, sincerely and honestly, Berinthia, there is something in my +wife’s conduct which strikes me so forcibly, that if it were not for +shame, and the fear of hurting you in her opinion, I swear I would +follow her, confess my error, and trust to her generosity for +forgiveness. + +BERINTHIA. +Nay, pr’ythee, don’t let your respect for me prevent you; for as my +object in trifling with you was nothing more than to pique Townly, and +as I perceive he has been actuated by a similar motive, you may depend +on’t I shall make no mystery of the matter to him. + +LOVELESS. +By no means inform him: for though I may choose to pass by his conduct +without resentment, how will he presume to look me in the face again? + +BERINTHIA. +How will you presume to look him in the face again? + +LOVELESS. +He, who has dared to attempt the honour of my wife! + +BERINTHIA. +You who have dared to attempt the honour of his mistress! Come, come, +be ruled by me, who affect more levity than I have, and don’t think of +anger in this cause. A readiness to resent injuries is a virtue only in +those who are slow to injure. + +LOVELESS. +Then I will be ruled by you; and when you think proper to undeceive +Townly, may your good qualities make as sincere a convert of him as +Amanda’s have of me.-When truth’s extorted from us, then we own the +robe of virtue is a sacred habit. + +Could women but our secret counsel scan— +Could they but reach the deep reserve of man— +To keep our love they’d rate their virtue high, +They live together, and together die. + +[_Exeunt_.] + +SCENE II.—_A Room in_ SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY’S _House. Enter_ MISS HOYDEN, +NURSE, _and_ TOM FASHION. + +TOM FASHION. +This quick despatch of the chaplain’s I take so kindly it shall give +him claim to my favour as long as I live, I assure you. + +MISS HOYDEN. +And to mine too, I promise you. + +NURSE. +I most humbly thank your honours; and may your children swarm about you +like bees about a honeycomb! + +MISS HOYDEN. +Ecod, with all my heart—the more the merrier, I say—ha, nurse? + +_Enter_ LORY. + +LORY. +One word with you, for Heaven’s sake. [_Taking_ TOM FASHION _hastily +aside_.] + +TOM FASHION. +What the devil’s the matter? + +LORY. +Sir, your fortune’s ruined if you are not married. Yonder’s your +brother arrived, with two coaches and six horses, twenty footmen, and a +coat worth fourscore pounds—so judge what will become of your lady’s +heart. + +TOM FASHION. +Is he in the house yet? + +LORY. +No, they are capitulating with him at the gate. Sir Tunbelly luckily +takes him for an impostor; and I have told him that we have heard of +this plot before. + +TOM FASHION. +That’s right.—[_Turning to_ MISS HOYDEN.] My dear, here’s a troublesome +business my man tells me of, but don’t be frightened; we shall be too +hard for the rogue. Here’s an impudent fellow at the gate (not knowing +I was come hither incognito) has taken my name upon him, in hopes to +run away with you. + +MISS HOYDEN. +Oh, the brazen-faced varlet! it’s well we are married, or maybe we +might never have been so. + +TOM FASHION. +[_Aside_.] Egad, like enough.—[_Aloud_.] Pr’ythee, nurse, run to Sir +Tunbelly, and stop him from going to the gate before I speak to him. + +NURSE. +An’t please your honour, my lady and I had better, lock ourselves up +till the danger be over. + +TOM FASHION. +Do so, if you please. + +MISS HOYDEN. +Not so fast; I won’t be locked up any more, now I’m married. + +TOM FASHION. +Yes, pray, my dear, do, till we have seized this rascal. + +MISS HOYDEN. +Nay, if you’ll pray me, I’ll do anything. [_Exit with_ NURSE.] + +TOM FASHION. +Hark you, sirrah, things are better than you imagine. The wedding’s +over. + +LORY. +The devil it is, sir! [_Capers about_.] + +TOM FASHION. +Not a word—all’s safe—but Sir Tunbelly don’t know it, nor must not yet. +So I am resolved to brazen the brunt of the business out, and have the +pleasure of turning the impostor upon his lordship, which I believe may +easily be done. + +_Enter_ SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. Did you ever hear, sir, of so impudent an +undertaking? + +SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. +Never, by the mass; but we’ll tickle him, I’ll warrant you. + +TOM FASHION. +They tell me, sir, he has a great many people with him, disguised like +servants. + +SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. +Ay, ay, rogues enow, but we have mastered them. We only fired a few +shot over their heads, and the regiment scoured in an instant.—Here, +Tummus, bring in your prisoner. + +TOM FASHION. +If you please, Sir Tunbelly, it will be best for me not to confront +this fellow yet, till you have heard how far his impudence will carry +him. + +SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. +Egad, your lordship is an ingenious person. Your lordship, then, will +please to step aside. + +LORY. +[_Aside_.] ’Fore heavens, I applaud my master’s modesty! [_Exit with_ +TOM FASHION.] + +_Enter_ SERVANTS, _with_ LORD FOPPINGTON + +_disarmed_. + +SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. +Come, bring him along, bring him along. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +What the plague do you mean, gentlemen? is it fair time, that you are +all drunk before supper? + +SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. +Drunk, sirrah! here’s an impudent rogue for you now. Drunk or sober, +bully, I’m a justice o’ the peace, and know how to deal with strollers. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +Strollers! + +SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. +Ay, strollers. Come, give an account of yourself. What’s your name? +where do you live? do you pay scot and lot? Come, are you a freeholder +or a copyholder? + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +And why dost thou ask me so many impertinent questions? + +SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. +Because I’ll make you answer ’em, before I have done with you, you +rascal, you! + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +Before Gad, all the answer I can make to them is, that you are a very +extraordinary old fellow, stap my vitals. + +SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. +Nay, if thou art joking deputy-lieutenants, we know how to deal with +you.—Here, draw a warrant for him immediately. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +A warrant! What the devil is’t thou wouldst be at, old gentleman? + +SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. +I would be at you, sirrah, (if my hands were not tied as a magistrate,) +and with these two double fists beat your teeth down your throat, you +dog, you! [_Driving him_.] + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +And why wouldst thou spoil my face at that rate? + +SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. +For your design to rob me of my daughter, villain. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +Rob thee of thy daughter! Now do I begin to believe I am in bed and +asleep, and that all this is but a dream. Pr’ythee, old father, wilt +thou give me leave to ask thee one question? + +SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. +I can’t tell whether I will or not, till I know what it is. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +Why, then, it is, whether thou didst not write to my Lord Foppington, +to come down and marry thy daughter? + +SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. +Yes, marry, did I, and my Lord Foppington is come down, and shall marry +my daughter before she’s a day older. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. + Now give me thy hand, old dad; I thought we should understand one + another at last. + +SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. +The fellow’s mad!—Here, bind him hand and foot. [_They bind him._] + +LORD FOPPINGTON. + Nay, pr’ythee, knight, leave fooling; thy jest begins to grow dull. + +SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. +Bind him, I say—he’s mad: bread and water, a dark room, and a whip, may +bring him to his senses again. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. + Pr’ythee, Sir Tunbelly, why should you take such an aversion to the + freedom of my address as to suffer the rascals thus to skewer down my + arms like a rabbit?—[_Aside._] Egad, if I don’t awake, by all that I + can see, this is like to prove one of the most impertinent dreams that + ever I dreamt in my life. + +_Re-enter_ MISS HOYDEN _and_ NURSE. + +MISS HOYDEN. +[_Going up to_ LORD FOPPINGTON.] Is this he that would have run—Fough, +how he stinks of sweets!—Pray, father, let him be dragged through the +horse-pond. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. + This must be my wife, by her natural inclination to her husband. + [_Aside._] + +MISS HOYDEN. +Pray, father, what do you intend to do with him—hang him? + +SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. +That, at least, child. + +NURSE. +Ay, and it’s e’en too good for him too. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. + Madame la gouvernante, I presume: hitherto this appears to me to be + one of the most extraordinary families that ever man of quality + matched into. [_Aside._] + +SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. +What’s become of my lord, daughter? + +MISS HOYDEN. +He’s just coming, sir. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. + My lord! what does he mean by that, now? [_Aside._] + +_Re-enter_ TOM FASHION _and_ LORY. Stap my vitals, Tam, now the dream’s +out! [_Runs._] + +TOM FASHION. +Is this the fellow, sir, that designed to trick me of your daughter? + +SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. +This is he, my lord. How do you like him? Is not he a pretty fellow to +get a fortune? + +TOM FASHION. +I find by his dress he thought your daughter might be taken with a +beau. + +MISS HOYDEN. +Oh, gemini! is this a beau? let me see him again. [_Surveys him_.] Ha! +I find a beau is no such ugly thing, neither. + +TOM FASHION. +[_Aside_.] Egad, she’ll be in love with him presently—I’ll e’en have +him sent away to jail.—[_To_ LORD FOPPINGTON.] Sir, though your +undertaking shows you a person of no extraordinary modesty, I suppose +you ha’n’t confidence enough to expect much favour from me? + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +Strike me dumb, Tam, thou art a very impudent fellow. + +NURSE. +Look, if the varlet has not the effrontery to call his lordship plain +Thomas! + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +My Lord Foppington, shall I beg one word with your lordship? + +NURSE. +Ho, ho! it’s my lord with him now! See how afflictions will humble +folks. + +MISS HOYDEN. +Pray, my lord—[_To_ FASHION]—don’t let him whisper too close, lest he +bite your ear off. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +I am not altogether so hungry as your ladyship is pleased to +imagine.—[_Aside to_ TOM FASHION.] Look you, Tam, I am sensible I have +not been so kind to you as I ought, but I hope you’ll forgive what’s +past, and accept of the five thousand pounds I offer—thou mayst live in +extreme splendour with it, stap my vitals! + +TOM FASHION. +It’s a much easier matter to prevent a disease than to cure it. A +quarter of that sum would have secured your mistress, twice as much +cannot redeem her. [_Aside to_ LORD FOPPINGTON.] + +SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. +Well, what says he? + +TOM FASHION. +Only the rascal offered me a bribe to let him go. + +SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. +Ay, he shall go, with a plague to him!—lead on, constable. + +_Enter_ SERVANT. + +SERVANT. +Sir, here is Muster Loveless, and Muster Colonel Townly, and some +ladies to wait on you. [_To_ TOM FASHION.] + +LORY. +[_Aside to_ TOM FASHION.] So, sir, what will you do now? + +TOM FASHION. +[_Aside to_ LORY.] Be quiet; they are in the plot.—[_Aloud_.] Only a +few friends, Sir Tunbelly, whom I wish to introduce to you. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +Thou art the most impudent fellow, Tam, that ever nature yet brought +into the world.—Sir Tunbelly, strike me speechless, but these are my +friends and acquaintance, and my guests, and they will soon inform thee +whether I am the true Lord Foppington or not. + +_Enter_ LOVELESS, COLONEL TOWNLY, AMANDA, _and_ BERINTHIA.—LORD +FOPPINGTON _accosts them as they pass, but none answer him. Fash_. +So, gentlemen, this is friendly; I rejoice to see you. + +COLONEL TOWNLY. +My lord, we are fortunate to be the witnesses of your lordship’s +happiness. + +LOVELESS. +But your lordship will do us the honour to introduce us to Sir Tunbelly +Clumsy? + +AMANDA. +And us to your lady. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +Gad take me, but they are all in a story! [_Aside_.] + +SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. +Gentlemen, you do me much honour; my Lord Foppington’s friends will +ever be welcome to me and mine. + +TOM FASHION. +My love, let me introduce you to these ladies. + +MISS HOYDEN. +By goles, they look so fine and so stiff, I am almost ashamed to come +nigh ’em. + +AMANDA. +A most engaging lady indeed! + +MISS HOYDEN. +Thank ye, ma’am. + +BERINTHIA. +And I doubt not will soon distinguish herself in the beau monde. + +MISS HOYDEN. +Where is that? + +TOM FASHION. +You’ll soon learn, my dear. + +LOVELESS. +But Lord Foppington— + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +Sir! + +LOVELESS. +Sir! I was not addressing myself to you, sir!—Pray who is this +gentleman? He seems rather in a singular predicament— + +COLONEL TOWNLY. +For so well-dressed a person, a little oddly circumstanced, indeed. + +SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. +Ha! ha! ha!—So, these are your friends and your guests, ha, my +adventurer? + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +I am struck dumb with their impudence, and cannot positively say +whether I shall ever speak again or not. + +SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. +Why, sir, this modest gentleman wanted to pass himself upon me as Lord +Foppington, and carry off my daughter. + +LOVELESS. +A likely plot to succeed, truly, ha! ha! + +LORD FOPPINGTON. + As Gad shall judge me, Loveless, I did not expect this from thee. + Come, pr’ythee confess the joke; tell Sir Tunbelly that I am the real + Lord Foppington, who yesterday made love to thy wife; was honoured by + her with a slap on the face, and afterwards pinked through the body by + thee. + +SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. +A likely story, truly, that a peer would behave thus. + +LOVELESS. +A pretty fellow, indeed, that would scandalize the character he wants +to assume; but what will you do with him, Sir Tunbelly? + +SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. +Commit him, certainly, unless the bride and bridegroom choose to pardon +him. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. + Bride and bridegroom! For Gad’s sake, Sir Tunbelly, ’tis tarture to me + to hear you call ’em so. + +MISS HOYDEN. +Why, you ugly thing, what would you have him call us—dog and cat? + +LORD FOPPINGTON. + By no means, miss; for that sounds ten times more like man and wife + than t’other. + +SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. +A precious rogue this to come a-wooing! + +_Re-enter_ SERVANT. + +SERVANT. +There are some gentlefolks below to wait upon Lord Foppington. +[_Exit._] + +COLONEL TOWNLY. + ’Sdeath, Tom, what will you do now? [_Aside to_ TOM FASHION.] + +LORD FOPPINGTON. + Now, Sir Tunbelly, here are witnesses who I believe are not corrupted. + +SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. +Peace, fellow!—Would your lordship choose to have your guests shown +here, or shall they wait till we come to ’em? + +TOM FASHION. +I believe, Sir Tunbelly, we had better not have these visitors here +yet.—[_Aside_.] Egad, all must out. + +LOVELESS. +Confess, confess; we’ll stand by you. [_Aside to_ TOM FASHION.] + +LORD FOPPINGTON. + Nay, Sir Tunbelly, I insist on your calling evidence on both sides—and + if I do not prove that fellow an impostor— + +TOM FASHION. +Brother, I will save you the trouble, by now confessing that I am not +what I have passed myself for.—Sir Tunbelly, I am a gentleman, and I +flatter myself a man of character; but’tis with great pride I assure +you I am not Lord Foppington. + +SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. +Ouns!—what’s this?—an impostor?—a cheat?—fire and faggots, sir, if you +are not Lord Foppington, who the devil are you? + +TOM FASHION. +Sir, the best of my condition is, I am your son-in-law; and the worst +of it is, I am brother to that noble peer. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +Impudent to the last, Gad dem me! + +SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. +My son-in-law! not yet, I hope. + +TOM FASHION. +Pardon me, sir; thanks to the goodness of your chaplain, and the kind +offices of this gentlewoman. + +LORY. +’Tis true indeed, sir; I gave your daughter away, and Mrs. Nurse, here, +was clerk. + +SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. +Knock that rascal down!—But speak, Jezebel, how’s this? + +NURSE. +Alas! your honour, forgive me; I have been overreached in this business +as well as you. Your worship knows, if the wedding-dinner had been +ready, you would have given her away with your own hands. + +SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. +But how durst you do this without acquainting me? + +NURSE. +Alas! if your worship had seen how the poor thing begged and prayed, +and clung and twined about me like ivy round an old wall, you would +say, I who had nursed it, and reared it, must have had a heart like +stone to refuse it. + +SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. +Ouns! I shall go mad! Unloose my lord there, you scoundrels! + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +Why, when these gentlemen are at leisure, I should be glad to +congratulate you on your son-in-law, with a little more freedom of +address. + +MISS HOYDEN. +Egad, though, I don’t see which is to be my husband after all. + +LOVELESS. +Come, come, Sir Tunbelly, a man of your understanding must perceive +that an affair of this kind is not to be mended by anger and +reproaches. + +COLONEL TOWNLY. +Take my word for it, Sir Tunbelly, you are only tricked into a +son-in-law you may be proud of: my friend Tom Fashion is as honest a +fellow as ever breathed. + +LOVELESS. +That he is, depend on’t; and will hunt or drink with you most +affectionately: be generous, old boy, and forgive them— + +SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. +Never! the hussy!—when I had set my heart on getting her a title. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +Now, Sir Tunbelly, that I am untrussed—give me leave to thank thee for +the very extraordinary reception I have met with in thy damned, +execrable mansion; and at the same time to assure you, that of all the +bumpkins and blockheads I have had the misfortune to meek with, thou +art the most obstinate and egregious, strike me ugly! + +SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. +What’s this! I believe you are both rogues alike. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +No, Sir Tunbelly, thou wilt find to thy unspeakable mortification, that +I am the real Lord Foppington, who was to have disgraced myself by an +alliance with a clod; and that thou hast matched thy girl to a beggarly +younger brother of mine, whose title deeds might be contained in thy +tobacco-box. + +SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. +Puppy! puppy!—I might prevent their being beggars, if I chose it; for I +could give ’em as good a rent-roll as your lordship. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +Ay, old fellow, but you will not do that—for that would be acting like +a Christian, and thou art a barbarian, stap my vitals. + +SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. +Udzookers! now six such words more, and I’ll forgive them directly. + +LOVELESS. +’Slife, Sir Tunbelly, you should do it, and bless yourself—Ladies, what +say you? + +AMANDA. +Good Sir Tunbelly, you must consent. + +BERINTHIA. +Come, you have been young yourself, Sir Tunbelly. + +SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. +Well then, if I must, I must; but turn—turn that sneering lord out, +however, and let me be revenged on somebody. But first look whether I +am a barbarian or not; there, children, I join your hands; and when I’m +in a better humour, I’ll give you my blessing. + +LOVELESS. +Nobly done, Sir Tunbelly! and we shall see you dance at a grandson’s +christening yet. + +MISS HOYDEN. +By goles, though, I don’t understand this! What! an’t I to be a lady +after all? only plain Mrs.—What’s my husband’s name, nurse? + +NURSE. +Squire Fashion. + +MISS HOYDEN. +Squire, is he?—Well, that’s better than nothing. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +[_Aside_.] Now I will put on a philosophic air, and show these people, +that it is not possible to put a man of my quality out of +countenance.—[_Aloud_.] Dear Tam, since things are fallen out, pr’ythee +give me leave to wish thee joy; I do it _de bon coeur_, strike me dumb! +You have married into a family of great politeness and uncommon +elegance of manners, and your bride appears to be a lady beautiful in +person, modest in her deportment, refined in her sentiments, and of +nice morality, split my windpipe! + +MISS HOYDEN. +By goles, husband, break his bones if he calls me names! + +TOM FASHION. +Your lordship may keep up your spirits with your grimace, if you +please; I shall support mine, by Sir Tunbelly’s favour, with this lady +and three thousand pounds a year. + +LORD FOPPINGTON. +Well, adieu, Tam!—Ladies, I kiss your, hands!—Sir Tunbelly, I shall now +quit this thy den; but while I retain the use of my arms, I shall ever +remember thou art a demned horrid savage; Ged demn me! [_Exit_.] + +SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. +By the mass, ’tis well he’s gone—for I should ha’ been provoked, +by-and-by, to ha’ dun un a mischief. Well, if this is a lord, I think +Hoyden has luck on her side, in troth. + +COLONEL TOWNLY. +She has, indeed, Sir Tunbelly.—But I hear the fiddles; his lordship, I +know, has provided ’em. + +LOVELESS. +Oh, a dance and a bottle, Sir Tunbelly, by all means! + +SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. +I had forgot the company below; well—what—we must be merry, then, ha? +and dance and drink, ha? Well, ’fore George, you shan’t say I do these +things by halves. Son-in-law there looks like a hearty rogue, so we’ll +have a night on’t: and which of these ladies will be the old man’s +partner, ha?—Ecod, I don’t know how I came to be in so good a humour. + +BERINTHIA. +Well, Sir Tunbelly, my friend and I both will endeavour to keep you so: +you have done a generous action, and are entitled to our attention. If +you should be at a loss to divert your new guests, we will assist you +to relate to them the plot of your daughter’s marriage, and his +lordship’s deserved mortification; a subject which perhaps may afford +no bad evening’s entertainment. + +SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. +Ecod, with all my heart; though I am a main bungler at a long story. + +BERINTHIA. +Never fear; we will assist you, if the tale is judged worth being +repeated; but of this you may be assured, that while the intention is +evidently to please, British auditors will ever be indulgent to the +errors of the performance. [Exeunt omnes.] + + + +The Critic + + OR, A TRAGEDY REHEARSED _A DRAMATIC PIECE IN THREE ACTS_ TO MRS. + GREVILLE + +MADAM, + In requesting your permission to address the following pages to + you, which, as they aim themselves to be critical, require every + protection and allowance that approving taste or friendly prejudice + can give them, I yet ventured to mention no other motive than the + gratification of private friendship and esteem. Had I suggested a + hope that your implied approbation would give a sanction to their + defects, your particular reserve, and dislike to the reputation of + critical taste, as well as of poetical talent, would have made you + refuse the protection of your name to such a purpose. However, I am + not so ungrateful as now to attempt to combat this disposition in + you. I shall not here presume to argue that the present state of + poetry claims and expects every assistance that taste and example + can afford it; nor endeavour to prove that a fastidious concealment + of the most elegant productions of judgment and fancy is an ill + return for the possession of those endowments. Continue to deceive + yourself in the idea that you are known only to be eminently + admired and regarded for the valuable qualities that attach private + friendships, and the graceful talents that adorn conversation. + Enough of what you have written has stolen into full public notice + to answer my purpose; and you will, perhaps, be the only person, + conversant in elegant literature, who shall read this address and + not perceive that by publishing your particular approbation of the + following drama, I have a more interested object than to boast the + true respect and regard with which + I have the honour to be, + Madam, + your very sincere + and obedient humble servant, + R. B. SHERIDAN. + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE +AS ORIGINALLY ACTED AT DRURY LANE THEATRE IN 1779 + +SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY. _Mr. Parsons_. +PUFF. _Mr. King_. +DANGLE. _Mr. Dodd_ +SNEER. _Mr. Palmer_. +SIGNOR PASTICCIO RITORNELLO. _Mr. Delpini_. +INTERPRETER. _Mr. Baddeley_. +UNDER PROMPTER. _Mr. Phillimore_. +MR. HOPKINS. _Mr. Hopkins_. +MRS. DANGLE. _Mrs. Hopkins_. +SIGNORE PASTICCIO RITORNELLO. _Miss Field and the Miss Abrams_. + +Scenemen, Musicians, _and_ Servants. + +CHARACTERS OF THE TRAGEDY + + LORD BURLEIGH. _Mr. Moody_. +GOVERNOR OF TILBURY FORT. _Mr. Wrighten_. +EARL OF LEICESTER. _Mr. Farren_. +SIR WALTER RALEIGH. _Mr. Burton_. +SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON. _Mr. Waldron_. +MASTER OF THE HORSE. _Mr. Kenny_. +DON FEROLO WHISKERANDOS. _Mr. Bannister, jun_. +BEEFEATER. _Mr. Wright_. +JUSTICE. _Mr. Packer_. +SON. _Mr. Lamash_. +CONSTABLE. _Mr. Fawcett_. +THAMES. _Mr. Gawdry_. +TILBURINA. _Miss Pope_. +CONFIDANT. _Mrs. Bradshaw_. +JUSTICE’s LADY. _Mrs. Johnston_. +FIRST NIECE. _Miss Collett_. +SECOND NIECE. _Miss Kirby_. + +Knights, Guards, Constables, Sentinels, Servants, Chorus, Rivers, +Attendants, &c., &c. + + SCENE—LONDON: _in_ DANGLES _House during the First Act, +and throughout the rest of the Play in_ DRURY LANE THEATRE. + + PROLOGUE +BY THE HONOURABLE RICHARD FITZPATRICK + +The sister Muses, whom these realms obey, +Who o’er the drama hold divided sway, +Sometimes by evil counsellors, ’tis said, +Like earth-born potentates have been misled. +In those gay days of wickedness and wit, +When Villiers criticised what Dryden writ, +The tragic queen, to please a tasteless crowd, +Had learn’d to bellow, rant, and roar so loud, +That frighten’d Nature, her best friend before, +The blustering beldam’s company foreswore; +Her comic sister, who had wit ’tis true, +With all her merits, had her failings too: +And would sometimes in mirthful moments use +A style too flippant for a well-bred muse; +Then female modesty abash’d began +To seek the friendly refuge of the fan, +Awhile behind that slight intrenchment stood, +Till driven from thence, she left the stage for good. +In our more pious, and far chaster times, +These sure no longer are the Muse’s crimes! +But some complain that, former faults to shun, +The reformation to extremes has run. +The frantic hero’s wild delirium past, +Now insipidity succeeds bombast: +So slow Melpomene’s cold numbers creep, +Here dulness seems her drowsy court to keep, +And we are scarce awake, whilst you are fast asleep. +Thalia, once so ill-behaved and rude, +Reform’d, is now become an arrant prude; +Retailing nightly to the yawning pit +The purest morals, undefiled by wit! +Our author offers, in these motley scenes, +A slight remonstrance to the drama’s queens: +Nor let the goddesses be over nice; +Free-spoken subjects give the best advice. +Although not quite a novice in his trade, +His cause tonight requires no common aid. +To this, a friendly, just, and powerful court, +I come ambassador to beg support. +Can he undaunted brave the critic’s rage? +In civil broils with brother bards engage? +Hold forth their errors to the public eye, +Nay more, e’en newspapers themselves defy? +Say, must his single arm encounter all? +By number vanquish’d, e’en the brave may fall; +And though no leader should success distrust, +Whose troops are willing, and whose cause is just; +To bid such hosts of angry foes defiance, +His chief dependence must be, your alliance. + + + +ACT I. + +SCENE I.—_A Room in_ DANGLE’s _House_. Mr. _and_ MRS. DANGLE +_discovered at breakfast, and reading newspapers_. + +DANGLE. +[_Reading._] Brutus to Lord North.—Letter the second on the State of +the Army—Psha! _To the first L dash D of the A dash Y.—Genuine extract +of a Letter from St. Kitt’s.—Coxheath Intelligence.—It is now +confidently asserted that Sir Charles Hardy_—Psha! nothing but about +the fleet and the nation!—and I hate all politics but theatrical +politics.—Where’s the Morning Chronicle? + +MRS. DANGLE. +Yes, that’s your Gazette. + +DANGLE. +So, here we have it.—[_Reads._] Theatrical intelligence +extraordinary.—We hear there is a new tragedy in rehearsal at Drury +Lane Theatre, called the Spanish Armada, said to be written by Mr. +Puff, a gentleman well-known in the theatrical world. If we may allow +ourselves to give credit to the report of the performers, who, truth to +say, are in general but indifferent judges, this piece abounds with the +most striking and received beauties of modern composition.—So! I am +very glad my friend Puff’s tragedy is in such forwardness.—Mrs. Dangle, +my dear, you will be very glad to hear that Puff’s tragedy— + +MRS. DANGLE. +Lord, Mr. Dangle, why will you plague me about such nonsense?—Now the +plays are begun I shall have no peace.—Isn’t it sufficient to make +yourself ridiculous by your passion for the theatre, without +continually teasing me to join you? Why can’t you ride your hobby-horse +without desiring to place me on a pillion behind you, Mr. Dangle? + +DANGLE. +Nay, my dear, I was only going to read— + +MRS. DANGLE. +No, no; you will never read anything that’s worth listening to. You +hate to hear about your country; there are letters every day with Roman +signatures, demonstrating the certainty of an invasion, and proving +that the nation is utterly undone. But you never will read anything to +entertain one. + +DANGLE. +What has a woman to do with politics, Mrs. Dangle? + +MRS. DANGLE. +And what have you to do with the theatre, Mr. Dangle? Why should you +affect the character of a critic? I have no patience with you!—haven’t +you made yourself the jest of all your acquaintance by your +interference in matters where you have no business? Are you not called +a theatrical Quidnunc, and a mock Maecenas to second-hand authors? + +DANGLE. +True; my power with the managers is pretty notorious. But is it no +credit to have applications from all quarters for my interest—from +lords to recommend fiddlers, from ladies to get boxes, from authors to +get answers, and from actors to get engagements? + +MRS. DANGLE. +Yes, truly; you have contrived to get a share in all the plague and +trouble of theatrical property, without the profit, or even the credit +of the abuse that attends it. + +DANGLE. +I am sure, Mrs. Dangle, you are no loser by it, however; you have all +the advantages of it. Mightn’t you, last winter, have had the reading +of the new pantomime a fortnight previous to its performance? And +doesn’t Mr. Fosbrook let you take places for a play before it is +advertised, and set you down for a box for every new piece through the +season? And didn’t my friend, Mr. Smatter, dedicate his last farce to +you at my particular request, Mrs. Dangle? + +MRS. DANGLE. +Yes; but wasn’t the farce damned, Mr. Dangle? And to be sure it is +extremely pleasant to have one’s house made the motley rendezvous of +all the lackeys of literature; the very high ’Change of trading authors +and jobbing critics!—Yes, my drawing-room is an absolute +register-office for candidate actors, and poets without character.—Then +to be continually alarmed with misses and ma’ams piping hysteric +changes on Juliets and Dorindas, Pollys and Ophelias; and the very +furniture trembling at the probationary starts and unprovoked rants of +would-be Richards and Hamlets!—And what is worse than all, now that the +manager has monopolized the Opera House, haven’t we the signors and +signoras calling here, sliding their smooth semibreves, and gargling +glib divisions in their outlandish throats—with foreign emissaries and +French spies, for aught I know, disguised like fiddlers and figure +dancers? + +DANGLE. +Mercy! Mrs. Dangle! + +MRS. DANGLE. +And to employ yourself so idly at such an alarming crisis as this +too—when, if you had the least spirit, you would have been at the head +of one of the Westminster associations—or trailing a volunteer pike in +the Artillery Ground! But you—o’ my conscience, I believe, if the +French were landed tomorrow, your first inquiry would be, whether they +had brought a theatrical troop with them. + +DANGLE. +Mrs. Dangle, it does not signify—I say the stage is ‘the mirror of +nature’, and the actors are ‘the Abstract and brief Chronicles of the +Time’: and pray what can a man of sense study better?—Besides, you will +not easily persuade me that there is no credit or importance in being +at the head of a band of critics, who take upon them to decide for the +whole town, whose opinion and patronage all writers solicit, and whose +recommendation no manager dares refuse. + +MRS. DANGLE. +Ridiculous!—Both managers and authors of the least merit laugh at your +pretensions.—The public is their critic—without whose fair approbation +they know no play can rest on the stage, and with whose applause they +welcome such attacks as yours, and laugh at the malice of them, where +they can’t at the wit. + +DANGLE. +Very well, madam—very well! + +_Enter_ SERVANT. + +SERVANT. +Mr. Sneer, sir, to wait on you. + +DANGLE. +Oh, show Mr. Sneer up.—[_Exit_ SERVANT.]—Plague on’t, now we must +appear loving and affectionate, or Sneer will hitch us into a story. + +MRS. DANGLE. +With all my heart; you can’t be more ridiculous than you are. + +DANGLE. +You are enough to provoke— + +_Enter_ SNEER. Ha! my dear Sneer, I am vastly glad to see you.—My dear, +here’s Mr. Sneer. + +MRS. DANGLE. +Good-morning to you, sir. + +DANGLE. +Mrs. Dangle and I have been diverting ourselves with the papers. Pray, +Sneer, won’t you go to Drury Lane Theatre the first night of Puff’s +tragedy? + +SNEER. +Yes; but I suppose one shan’t be able to get in, for on the first night +of a new piece they always fill the house with orders to support it. +But here, Dangle, I have brought you two pieces, one of which you must +exert yourself to make the managers accept, I can tell you that; +for’tis written by a person of consequence. + +DANGLE. +So! now my plagues are beginning. + +SNEER. +Ay, I am glad of it, for now you’ll be happy. Why, my dear Dangle, it +is a pleasure to see how you enjoy your volunteer fatigue, and your +solicited solicitations. + +DANGLE. +It’s a great trouble—yet, egad, it’s pleasant too.—Why, sometimes of a +morning I have a dozen people call on me at breakfast-time, whose faces +I never saw before, nor ever desire to see again. + +SNEER. +That must be very pleasant indeed! + +DANGLE. +And not a week but I receive fifty letters, and not a line in them +about any business of my own. + +SNEER. +An amusing correspondence! + +DANGLE. +[_Reading_.] _Bursts into tears and exit_.—What, is this a tragedy? + +SNEER. +No, that’s a genteel comedy, not a translation—only taken from the +French: it is written in a style which they have lately tried to run +down; the true sentimental, and nothing ridiculous in it from the +beginning to the end. + +MRS. DANGLE. +Well, if they had kept to that, I should not have been such an enemy to +the stage; there was some edification to be got from those pieces, Mr. +Sneer! + +SNEER. +I am quite of your opinion, Mrs. Dangle: the theatre, in proper hands, +might certainly be made the school of morality; but now, I am sorry to +say it, people seem to go there principally for their entertainment! + +MRS. DANGLE. +It would have been more to the credit of the managers to have kept it +in the other line. + +SNEER. +Undoubtedly, madam; and hereafter perhaps to have had it recorded, that +in the midst of a luxurious and dissipated age, they preserved two +houses in the capital, where the conversation was always moral at +least, if not entertaining! + +DANGLE. +Now, egad, I think the worst alteration is in the nicety of the +audience!—No _double-entendre_, no smart innuendo admitted; even +Vanbrugh and Congreve obliged to undergo a bungling reformation! + +SNEER. +Yes, and our prudery in this respect is just on a par with the +artificial bashfulness of a courtesan, who increases the blush upon her +cheek in an exact proportion to the diminution of her modesty. + +DANGLE. +Sneer can’t even give the public a good word! But what have we +here?—This seems a very odd— + +SNEER. +Oh, that’s a comedy on a very new plan; replete with wit and mirth, yet +of a most serious moral! You see it is called _The Reformed +House-breaker_; where, by the mere force of humour, house-breaking is +put in so ridiculous a light, that if the piece has its proper run, I +have no doubt but that bolts and bars will be entirely useless by the +end of the season. + +DANGLE. +Egad, this is new indeed! + +SNEER. +Yes; it is written by a particular friend of mine, who has discovered +that the follies and foibles of society are subjects unworthy the +notice of the comic muse, who should be taught to stoop only to the +greater vices and blacker crimes of humanity—gibbeting capital offences +in five acts, and pillorying petty larcenies in two.—In short, his idea +is to dramatize the penal laws, and make the stage a court of ease to +the Old Bailey. + +DANGLE. +It is truly moral. + +_Re-enter_ SERVANT. + +SERVANT. +Sir Fretful Plagiary, sir. + +DANGLE. +Beg him to walk up.—[_Exit_ SERVANT.] Now, Mrs. Dangle, Sir Fretful +Plagiary is an author to your own taste. + +MRS. DANGLE. +I confess he is a favourite of mine, because everybody else abuses him. + +SNEER. +Very much to the credit of your charity, madam, if not of your +judgment. + +DANGLE. +But, egad, he allows no merit to any author but himself, that’s the +truth on’t—though he’s my friend. + +SNEER. +Never.—He is as envious as an old maid verging on the desperation of +six and thirty; and then the insidious humility with which he seduces +you to give a free opinion on any of his works, can be exceeded only by +the petulant arrogance with which he is sure to reject your +observations. + +DANGLE. +Very true, egad—though he’s my friend. + +SNEER. +Then his affected contempt of all newspaper strictures; though, at the +same time, he is the sorest man alive, and shrinks like scorched +parchment from the fiery ordeal of true criticism: yet he is so +covetous of popularity, that he had rather be abused than not mentioned +at all. + +DANGLE. +There’s no denying it—though he is my friend. + +SNEER. +You have read the tragedy he has just finished, haven’t you? + +DANGLE. +Oh, yes; he sent it to me yesterday. + +SNEER. +Well, and you think it execrable, don’t you? + +DANGLE. +Why, between ourselves, egad, I must own—though he is my friend—that it +is one of the most—He’s here—[_Aside_.]—finished and most admirable +perform— + +SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY. [_Without_.] Mr. Sneer with him did you say? + +_Enter_ SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY. + +DANGLE. +Ah, my dear friend!—Egad, we were just speaking of your +tragedy.—Admirable, Sir Fretful, admirable! + +SNEER. +You never did anything beyond it, Sir Fretful—never in your life. + +SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY. +You make me extremely happy; for without a compliment, my dear Sneer, +there isn’t a man in the world whose judgment I value as I do yours and +Mr. Dangle’s. + +MRS. DANGLE. +They are only laughing at you, Sir Fretful; for it was but just now +that— + +DANGLE. +Mrs. Dangle!—Ah, Sir Fretful, you know Mrs. Dangle.—My friend Sneer was +rallying just now:—he knows how she admires you, and— + +SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY. +O Lord, I am sure Mr. Sneer has more taste and sincerity than +to—[_Aside_.] A damned double-faced fellow! + +DANGLE. +Yes, yes—Sneer will jest—but a better humoured— + +SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY. +Oh, I know— + +DANGLE. +He has a ready turn for ridicule—his wit costs him nothing. + +SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY. +No, egad—or I should wonder how he came by it. [_Aside_.] + +MRS. DANGLE. +Because his jest is always at the expense of his friend. [_Aside_.] + +DANGLE. +But, Sir Fretful, have you sent your play to the managers yet?—or can I +be of any service to you? + +SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY. +No, no, I thank you: I believe the piece had sufficient recommendation +with it.—I thank you though.—I sent it to the manager of Covent Garden +Theatre this morning. + +SNEER. +I should have thought now, that it might have been cast (as the actors +call it) better at Drury Lane. + +SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY. +O Lud! no—never send a play there while I live—hark’ee! [_Whispers_ +SNEER.] + +SNEER. +Writes himself!—I know he does. + +SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY. +I say nothing—I take away from no man’s merit—am hurt at no man’s good +fortune—I say nothing.—But this I will say—through all my knowledge of +life, I have observed—that there is not a passion so strongly rooted in +the human heart as envy. + +SNEER. +I believe you have reason for what you say, indeed. + +SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY. +Besides—I can tell you it is not always so safe to leave a play in the +hands of those who write themselves. + +SNEER. +What, they may steal from them, hey, my dear Plagiary? + +SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY. +Steal!—to be sure they may; and, egad, serve your best thoughts as +gypsies do stolen children, disfigure them to make ’em pass for their +own. + +SNEER. +But your present work is a sacrifice to Melpomene, and he, you know, +never— + +SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY. +That’s no security: a dexterous plagiarist may do anything. Why, sir, +for aught I know, he might take out some of the best things in my +tragedy, and put them into his own comedy. + +SNEER. +That might be done, I dare be sworn. + +SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY. +And then, if such a person gives you the least hint or assistance, he +is devilish apt to take the merit of the whole— + +DANGLE. +If it succeeds. + +SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY. +Ay, but with regard to this piece, I think I can hit that gentleman, +for I can safely swear he never read it. + +SNEER. +I’ll tell you how you may hurt him more. + +SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY. +How? + +SNEER. +Swear he wrote it. + +SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY. +Plague on’t now, Sneer, I shall take it ill!—I believe you want to take +away my character as an author. + +SNEER. +Then I am sure you ought to be very much obliged to me. + +SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY. +Hey!—sir!— + +DANGLE. +Oh, you know, he never means what he says. + +SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY. +Sincerely then—do you like the piece? + +SNEER. +Wonderfully! + +SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY. +But come, now, there must be something that you think might be mended, +hey?—Mr. Dangle, has nothing struck you? + +DANGLE. +Why, faith, it is but an ungracious thing for the most part, to— + +SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY. +With most authors it is just so, indeed; they are in general strangely +tenacious! But, for my part, I am never so well pleased as when a +judicious critic points out any defect to me; for what is the purpose +of showing a work to a friend, if you don’t mean to profit by his +opinion? + +SNEER. +Very true.—Why, then, though I seriously admire the piece upon the +whole, yet there is one small objection; which, if you’ll give me +leave, I’ll mention. + +SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY. +Sir, you can’t oblige me more. + +SNEER. +I think it wants incident. + +SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY. +Good God! you surprise me!—wants incident! + +SNEER. +Yes; I own I think the incidents are too few. + +SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY. +Good God! Believe me, Mr. Sneer, there is no person for whose judgment +I have a more implicit deference. But I protest to you, Mr. Sneer, I am +only apprehensive that the incidents are too crowded.—My dear Dangle, +how does it strike you? + +DANGLE. +Really I can’t agree with my friend Sneer. I think the plot quite +sufficient; and the four first acts by many degrees the best I ever +read or saw in my life. If, I might venture to suggest anything, it is +that the interest rather falls off in the fifth. + +SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY. +Rises, I believe you mean, sir. + +DANGLE. +No, I don’t, upon my word. + +SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY. +Yes, yes, you do, upon my soul!—it certainly don’t fall off, I assure +you.—No, no; it don’t fall off. + +DANGLE. +Now, Mrs. Dangle, didn’t you say it struck you in the same light? + +MRS. DANGLE. +No, indeed, I did not.—I did not see a fault in any part of the play, +from the beginning to the end. + +SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY. +Upon my soul, the women are the best judges after all! + +MRS. DANGLE. +Or, if I made any objection, I am sure it was to nothing in the piece; +but that I was afraid it was on the whole, a little too long. + +SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY. +Pray, madam, do you speak as to duration of time; or do you mean that +the story is tediously spun out? + +MRS. DANGLE. +O Lud! no.—I speak only with reference to the usual length of acting +plays. + +SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY. +Then I am very happy—very happy indeed—because the play is a short +play, a remarkably short play. I should not venture to differ with a +lady on a point of taste; but on these occasions, the watch, you know, +is the critic. + +MRS. DANGLE. +Then, I suppose, it must have been Mr. Dangle’s drawling manner of +reading it to me. + +SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY. +Oh, if Mr. Dangle read it, that’s quite another affair!—But I assure +you, Mrs. Dangle, the first evening you can spare me three hours and a +half, I’ll undertake to read you the whole, from beginning to end, with +the prologue and epilogue, and allow time for the music between the +acts. + +MRS. DANGLE. +I hope to see it on the stage next. + +DANGLE. +Well, Sir Fretful, I wish you may be able to get rid as easily of the +newspaper criticisms as you do of ours. + +SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY. +The newspapers! Sir, they are the most +villainous—licentious—abominable—infernal.—Not that I ever read +them—no—I make it a rule never to look into a newspaper. + +DANGLE. +You are quite right; for it certainly must hurt an author of delicate +feelings to see the liberties they take. + +SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY. +No, quite the contrary! their abuse is, in fact, the best panegyric—I +like it of all things. An author’s reputation is only in danger from +their support. + +SNEER. +Why, that’s true—and that attack, now, on you the other day— + +SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY. +What? where? + +DANGLE. +Ay, you mean in a paper of Thursday: it was completely ill-natured, to +be sure. + +SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY. +Oh so much the better.—Ha! Ha! Ha! I wouldn’t have it otherwise. + +DANGLE. +Certainly it is only to be laughed at; for— + +SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY. +You don’t happen to recollect what the fellow said, do you? + +SNEER. +Pray, Dangle—Sir Fretful seems a little anxious— + +SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY. +O Lud, no!—anxious!—not I—not the least.—I—but one may as well hear, +you know. + +DANGLE. +Sneer, do you recollect?—[_Aside to_ SNEER.] Make out something. + +SNEER. +[_Aside to_ DANGLE.] I will.—[_Aloud_.] Yes, yes, I remember perfectly. + +SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY. +Well, and pray now—not that it signifies—what might the gentleman say? + +SNEER. +Why, he roundly asserts that you have not the slightest invention or +original genius whatever; though you are the greatest traducer of all +other authors living. + +SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY. +Ha! ha! ha!—very good! + +SNEER. +That as to comedy, you have not one idea of your own, he believes, even +in your commonplace-book—where stray jokes and pilfered witticisms are +kept with as much method as the ledger of the lost and stolen office. + +SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY. +Ha! ha! ha!—very pleasant! + +SNEER. +Nay, that you are so unlucky as not to have the skill even to steal +with taste:—but that you glean from the refuse of obscure volumes, +where more judicious plagiarists have been before you; so that the body +of your work is a composition of dregs and sentiments—like a bad +tavern’s worst wine. + +SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY. +Ha! ha! + +SNEER. +In your more serious efforts, he says, your bombast would be less +intolerable, if the thoughts were ever suited to the expression; but +the homeliness of the sentiment stares through the fantastic +encumbrance of its fine language, like a clown in one of the new +uniforms! + +SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY. +Ha! ha! + +SNEER. +That your occasional tropes and flowers suit the general coarseness of +your style, as tambour sprigs would a ground of linsey-woolsey; while +your imitations of Shakspeare resemble the mimicry of Falstaff’s page, +and are about as near the standard as the original. + +SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY. +Ha! + +SNEER. +In short, that even the finest passages you steal are of no service to +you; for the poverty of your own language prevents their assimilating; +so that they lie on the surface like lumps of marl on a barren moor, +encumbering what it is not in their power to fertilize! + +SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY. +[_After great agitation_.] Now, another person would be vexed at this! + +SNEER. +Oh! but I wouldn’t have told you—only to divert you. + +SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY. +I know it—I am diverted.—Ha! ha! ha!—not the least invention!—Ha! ha! +ha!—very good!—very good! + +SNEER. +Yes—no genius! ha! ha! ha! + +DANGLE. +A severe rogue! ha! ha! ha! But you are quite right, Sir Fretful, never +to read such nonsense. + +SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY. +To be sure—for if there is anything to one’s praise, it is a foolish +vanity to be gratified at it; and, if it is abuse—why one is always +sure to hear of it from one damned good-natured friend or other! + +_Enter_ SERVANT. + +SERVANT. +Sir, there is an Italian gentleman, with a French interpreter, and +three young ladies, and a dozen musicians, who say they are sent by +Lady Rondeau and Mrs. Fugue. + +DANGLE. +Gadso! they come by appointment!—Dear Mrs. Dangle, do let them know +I’ll see them directly. + +MRS. DANGLE. +You know, Mr. Dangle, I shan’t understand a word they say. + +DANGLE. +But you hear there’s an interpreter. + +MRS. DANGLE. +Well, I’ll try to endure their complaisance till you come. [_Exit_.] + +SERVANT. +And Mr. Puff, sir, has sent word that the last rehearsal is to be this +morning, and that he’ll call on you presently. + +DANGLE. +That’s true—I shall certainly be at home.—[_Exit_ SERVANT.]—now, Sir +Fretful, if you have a mind to have justice done you in the way of +answer, egad, Mr. Puff’s your man. + +SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY. +Psha! sir, why should I wish to have it answered, when I tell you I am +pleased at it? + +DANGLE. +True, I had forgot that. But I hope you are not fretted at what Mr. +Sneer— + +SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY. +Zounds! no, Mr. Dangle; don’t I tell you these things never fret me in +the least? + +DANGLE. +Nay, I only thought— + +SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY. +And let me tell you, Mr. Dangle, ’tis damned affronting in you to +suppose that I am hurt when I tell you I am not. + +SNEER. +But why so warm, Sir Fretful? + +SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY. +Gad’s life! Mr. Sneer, you are as absurd as Dangle: how often must I +repeat it to you, that nothing can vex me but your supposing it +possible for me to mind the damned nonsense you have been repeating to +me!—let me tell you, if you continue to believe this, you must mean to +insult me, gentlemen—and, then, your disrespect will affect me no more +than the newspaper criticisms—and I shall treat it with exactly the +same calm indifference and philosophic contempt—and so your servant. +[_Exit.] Sneer_. +Ha! ha! ha! poor Sir Fretful! Now will he go and vent his philosophy in +anonymous abuse of all modern critics and authors.—But, Dangle, you +must get your friend Puff to take me to the rehearsal of his tragedy. + +DANGLE. +I’ll answer for’t, he’ll thank you for desiring it. But come and help +me to judge of this musical family: they are recommended by people of +consequence, I assure you. + +SNEER. +I am at your disposal the whole morning!—but I thought you had been a +decided critic in music as well as in literature. + +DANGLE. +So I am—but I have a bad ear. I’faith, Sneer, though, I am afraid we +were a little too severe on Sir Fretful—though he is my friend. + +SNEER. +Why, ’tis certain, that unnecessarily to mortify the vanity of any +writer is a cruelty which mere dulness never can deserve; but where a +base and personal malignity usurps the place of literary emulation, the +aggressor deserves neither quarter nor pity. + +DANGLE. +That’s true, egad!—though he’s my friend! + +SCENE II.—_A drawing-room in_ DANGLE’S _House._ MRS. DANGLE, SIGNOR +PASTICCIO RITORNELLO, SIGNORE PASTICCIO RITORNELLO, INTERPRETER, _and_ +MUSICIANS _discovered_. + +INTERPRETER. +Je dis, madame, j’ai l’honneur to introduce et de vous demander votre +protection pour le Signor Pasticcio Ritornello et pour sa charmante +famille. + +SIGNOR PASTICCIO RITORNELLO. +Ah! vosignoria, not vi preghiamo di favoritevi colla vostra protezione. + +FIRST SIGNORA PASTICCIO RITORNELLO. +Vosignoria fatevi questi grazie. + +SECOND SIGNORA PASTICCIO RITORNELLO. +Si, signora. + +INTERPRETER. +Madame—me interpret.—C’est à dire—in English—qu’ils vous prient de leur +faire l’honneur— + +MRS. DANGLE. +I say again, gentlemen, I don’t understand a word you say. + +SIGNOR PASTICCIO RITORNELLO. +Questo signore spiegheró— + +INTERPRETER. +Oui—me interpret.—Nous avons les lettres de recommendation pour +Monsieur Dangle de— + +MRS. DANGLE. +Upon my word, sir, I don’t understand you. + +SIGNOR PASTICCIO RITORNELLO. +La Contessa Rondeau è nostra padrona. + +THIRD SIGNORA PASTICCIO RITORNELLO. +Si, padre, et Miladi Fugue. + +INTERPRETER. +O!—me interpret.—Madame, ils disent—in English—Qu’ils ont l’honneur +d’être protégés de ces dames.—You understand? + +MRS. DANGLE. +No, sir,—no understand! + +_Enter_ DANGLE _and_ SNEER. + +INTERPRETER. +Ah, voici, Monsieur Dangle! + +ALL ITALIANS. +Ah! Signor Dangle! + +MRS. DANGLE. +Mr. Dangle, here are two very civil gentlemen trying to make themselves +understood, and I don’t know which is the interpreter. + +DANGLE. +Eh, bien! [_The_ INTERPRETER _and_ SIGNOR PASTICCIO _here speak at the +same time_.] + +INTERPRETER. +Monsieur Dangle, le grand bruit de vos talens pour la critique, et de +votre intérêt avec messieurs les directeurs à tous les théâtres— + +SIGNOR PASTICCIO RITORNELLO. +Vosignoria siete si famoso par la vostra conoscenza, e vostra interessa +colla le direttore da— + +DANGLE. +Egad, I think the interpreter is the hardest to be understood of the +two! + +SNEER. +Why, I thought, Dangle, you had been an admirable linguist! + +DANGLE. +So I am, if they would not talk so damned fast. + +SNEER. +Well, I’ll explain that—the less time we lose in bearing them the +better—for that, I suppose, is what they are brought here for. [_Speaks +to_ SIGNOR PASTICCIO— _they sing trios, &c.,_ DANGLE _beating out of +time._] _Enter_ SERVANT _and whispers_ DANGLE. + +DANGLE. +Show him up.—[_Exit_ SERVANT.] Bravo! admirable! bravissimo! +admirablissimo!—Ah! Sneer! where will you find voices such as these in +England? + +SNEER. +Not easily. + +DANGLE. +But Puff is coming.—Signor and little signoras obligatissimo!—Sposa +Signora Danglena—Mrs. Dangle, shall I beg you to offer them some +refreshments, and take their address in the next room. [_Exit_ MRS. +DANGLE _with_ SIGNOR PASTICCIO, SIGNORE PASTICCIO, MUSICIANS, _and_ +INTERPRETER, _ceremoniously._] + +_Re-enter_ SERVANT. + +SERVANT. +Mr. Puff, sir. [_Exit_.] + +_Enter_ PUFF. + +DANGLE. +My dear Puff! + +PUFF. +My dear Dangle, how is it with you? + +DANGLE. +Mr. Sneer, give me leave to introduce Mr. Puff to you. + +PUFF. +Mr. Sneer is this?—Sir, he is a gentleman whom I have long panted for +the honour of knowing—a gentleman whose critical talents and +transcendent judgment— + +SNEER. +Dear Sir— + +DANGLE. +Nay, don’t be modest, Sneer; my friend Puff only talks to you in the +style of his profession. + +SNEER. +His profession. + +PUFF. +Yes, sir; I make no secret of the trade I follow: among friends and +brother authors, Dangle knows I love to be frank on the subject, and to +advertise myself _viva voce_.—I am, sir, a practitioner in panegyric, +or, to speak more plainly, a professor of the art of puffing, at your +service—or anybody else’s. + +SNEER. +Sir, you are very obliging!—I believe, Mr. Puff, I have often admired +your talents in the daily prints. + +PUFF. +Yes, sir, I flatter myself I do as much business in that way as any six +of the fraternity in town.—Devilish hard work all the summer, friend +Dangle,—never worked harder! But, hark’ee,—the winter managers were a +little sore, I believe. + +DANGLE. +No; I believe they took it all in good part. + +PUFF. +Ay! then that must have been affectation in them: for, egad, there were +some of the attacks which there was no laughing at! + +SNEER. +Ay, the humorous ones.—But I should think, Mr. Puff, that authors would +in general be able to do this sort of work for themselves. + +PUFF. +Why, yes—but in a clumsy way. Besides, we look on that as an +encroachment, and so take the opposite side. I dare say, now, you +conceive half the very civil paragraphs and advertisements you see to +be written by the parties concerned, or their friends? No such thing: +nine out of ten manufactured by me in the way of business. + +SNEER. +Indeed! + +PUFF. +Even the auctioneers now—the auctioneers, I say—though the rogues have +lately got some credit for their language—not an article of the merit +theirs: take them out of their pulpits, and they are as dull as +catalogues!—No, sir; ’twas I first enriched their style—’twas I first +taught them to crowd their advertisements with panegyrical +superlatives, each epithet rising above the other, like the bidders in +their own auction rooms! From me they learned to inlay their +phraseology with variegated chips of exotic metaphor: by me too their +inventive faculties were called forth:—yes, sir, by me they were +instructed to clothe ideal walls with gratuitous fruits—to insinuate +obsequious rivulets into visionary groves—to teach courteous shrubs to +nod their approbation of the grateful soil; or on emergencies to raise +upstart oaks, where there never had been an acorn; to create a +delightful vicinage without the assistance of a neighbour; or fix the +temple of Hygeia in the fens of Lincolnshire! + +DANGLE. +I am sure you have done them infinite service; for now, when a +gentleman is ruined, he parts with his house with some credit. + +SNEER. +Service! if they had any gratitude, they would erect a statue to him; +they would figure him as a presiding Mercury, the god of traffic and +fiction, with a hammer in his hand instead of a caduceus.—But pray, Mr. +Puff, what first put you on exercising your talents in this way? + +PUFF. +Egad, sir, sheer necessity!—the proper parent of an art so nearly +allied to invention. You must know, Mr. Sneer, that from the first time +I tried my hand at an advertisement, my success was such, that for some +time after I led a most extraordinary life indeed! + +SNEER. +How, pray? + +PUFF. +Sir, I supported myself two years entirely by my misfortunes. + +SNEER. +By your misfortunes! + +PUFF. +Yes, sir, assisted by long sickness, and other occasional disorders: +and a very comfortable living I had of it. + +SNEER. +From sickness and misfortunes! You practised as a doctor and an +attorney at once? + +PUFF. +No, egad; both maladies and miseries were my own. + +SNEER. +Hey! what the plague! + +DANGLE. +’Tis true, i’faith. + +PUFF. +Hark’ee!—By advertisements—. Oh, I understand you. + +PUFF. +And, in truth, I deserved what I got! for, I suppose never man went +through such a series of calamities in the same space of time. Sir, I +was five times made a bankrupt, and reduced from a state of affluence, +by a train of unavoidable misfortunes: then, sir, though a very +industrious tradesman, I was twice burned out, and lost my little all +both times: I lived upon those fires a month. I soon after was confined +by a most excruciating disorder, and lost the use of my limbs: that +told very well; for I had the case strongly attested, and went about to +collect the subscriptions myself. + +DANGLE. +Egad, I believe that was when you first called on me. + +PUFF. +In November last?—O no; I was at that time a close prisoner in the +Marshalsea, for a debt benevolently contracted to serve a friend. I was +afterwards twice tapped for a dropsy, which declined into a very +profitable consumption. I was then reduced to—O no—then, I became a +widow with six helpless children, after having had eleven husbands +pressed, and being left every time eight months gone with child, and +without money to get me into an hospital! + +SNEER. +And you bore all with patience, I make no doubt? + +PUFF. +Why yes; though I made some occasional attempts at _felo de se_, but as +I did not find those rash actions answer, I left off killing myself +very soon. Well, sir, at last, what with bankruptcies, fires, gout, +dropsies, imprisonments, and other valuable calamities, having got +together a pretty handsome sum, I determined to quit a business which +had always gone rather against my conscience, and in a more liberal way +still to indulge my talents for fiction and embellishment, through my +favourite channels of diurnal communication—and so, sir, you have my +history. + +SNEER. +Most obligingly communicative indeed! and your confession, if +published, might certainly serve the cause of true charity, by rescuing +the most useful channels of appeal to benevolence from the cant of +imposition. But, surely, Mr. Puff, there is no great mystery in your +present profession? + +PUFF. +Mystery, sir! I will take upon me to say the matter was never +scientifically treated nor reduced to rule before. + +SNEER. +Reduced to rule! + +PUFF. +O Lud, sir, you are very ignorant, I am afraid!—Yes, sir,. puffing is +of various sorts; the principal are, the puff direct, the puff +preliminary, the puff collateral, the puff collusive, and the puff +oblique, or puff by implication. These all assume, as circumstances +require, the various forms of Letter to the Editor, Occasional +Anecdote, Impartial Critique, Observation from Correspondent, or +Advertisement from the Party. + +SNEER. +The puff direct, I can conceive— + +PUFF. +O yes, that’s simple enough! For instance,—a new comedy or farce is to +be produced at one of the theatres (though by-the-by they don’t bring +out half what they ought to do)—the author, suppose Mr. Smatter, or Mr. +Dapper, or any particular friend of mine—very, well; the day before it +is to be performed, I write an account of the manner in which it was +received; I have the plot from the author, and only add—characters +strongly drawn—highly coloured—hand of a master—fund of genuine +humour—mine of invention—neat dialogue—Attic salt. Then for the +performance—Mr. Dodd was astonishingly great in the character of Sir +Harry. That universal and judicious actor, Mr. Palmer, perhaps never +appeared to more advantage than in the colonel;—but it is not in the +power of language to do justice to Mr. King: indeed he more than +merited those repeated bursts of applause which he drew from a most +brilliant and judicious audience. As to the scenery—the miraculous +powers of Mr. De Loutherbourg’s pencil are universally acknowledged. In +short, we are at a loss which to admire most, the unrivalled genius of +the author, the great attention and liberality of the managers, the +wonderful abilities of the painter, or the incredible exertions of all +the performers. + +SNEER. +That’s pretty well indeed, sir. + +PUFF. +Oh, cool!—quite cool!—to what I sometimes do. + +SNEER. +And do you think there are any who are influenced by this? + +PUFF. +O Lud, yes, sir! the number of those who undergo the fatigue of judging +for themselves is very small indeed. + +SNEER. +Well, sir, the puff preliminary. + +PUFF. +O, that, sir, does well in the form of a caution. In a matter of +gallantry now—Sir Flimsy Gossamer wishes to be well with Lady Fanny +Fete—he applies to me—I open trenches for him with a paragraph in the +Morning Post.—It is recommended to the beautiful and accomplished Lady +F four stars F dash E to be on her guard against that dangerous +character, Sir F dash G; who, however pleasing and insinuating his +manners may be, is certainly not remarkable _for the constancy of his +attachments_!—in italics. Here, you see, Sir Flimsy Gossamer is +introduced to the particular notice of Lady Fanny, who perhaps never +thought of him before—she finds herself publicly cautioned to avoid +him, which naturally makes her desirous of seeing him; the observation +of their acquaintance causes a pretty kind of mutual embarrassment; +this produces a sort of sympathy of interest, which if Sir Flimsy is +unable to improve effectually, he at least gains the credit of having +their names mentioned together, by a particular set, and in a +particular way—which nine times out of ten is the full accomplishment +of modern gallantry. + +DANGLE. +Egad, Sneer, you will be quite an adept in the business. + +PUFF. +Now, Sir, the puff collateral is much used as an appendage to +advertisements, and may take the form of anecdote,—Yesterday, as the +celebrated George Bonmot was sauntering down St. James’s Street, he met +the lively Lady Mary Myrtle coming out of the park:—‘Good God, Lady +Mary, I’m surprised to meet you in a white jacket,—for I expected never +to have seen you, but in a full-trimmed uniform and a light horseman’s +cap!’—‘Heavens, George, where could you have learned that?’—‘Why,’ +replied the wit, ‘I just saw a print of you, in a new publication +called the Camp Magazine; which, by-the-by, is a devilish clever thing, +and is sold at No. 3, on the right hand of the way, two doors from the +printing-office, the corner of Ivy Lane, Paternoster Row, price only +one shilling.’ + +SNEER. +Very ingenious indeed! + +PUFF. +But the puff collusive is the newest of any; for it acts in the +disguise of determined hostility. It is much used by bold booksellers +and enterprising poets.—An indignant correspondent observes, that the +new poem called Beelsebub’s Cotillon, or Proserpine’s Fête Champêtre, +is one of the most unjustifiable performances he ever read. The +severity with which certain characters are handled is quite shocking: +and as there are many descriptions in it too warmly coloured for female +delicacy, the shameful avidity with which this piece is bought by all +people of fashion is a reproach on the taste of the times, and a +disgrace to the delicacy of the age. Here you see the two strongest +inducements are held forth; first, that nobody ought to read it; and +secondly, that everybody buys it: on the strength of which the +publisher boldly prints the tenth edition, before he had sold ten of +the first; and then establishes it by threatening himself with the +pillory, or absolutely indicting himself for _scan. mag._ + +DANGLE. +Ha! ha! ha!—’gad, I know it is so. + +PUFF. +As to the puff oblique, or puff by implication, it is too various and +extensive to be illustrated by an instance: it attracts in titles and +resumes in patents; it lurks in the limitation of a subscription, and +invites in the assurance of crowd and incommodation at public places; +it delights to draw forth concealed merit, with a most disinterested +assiduity; and sometimes wears a countenance of smiling censure and +tender reproach. It has a wonderful memory for parliamentary debates, +and will often give the whole speech of a favoured member with the most +flattering accuracy. But, above all, it is a great dealer in reports +and suppositions. It has the earliest intelligence of intended +preferments that will reflect honour on the patrons; and embryo +promotions of modest gentlemen, who know nothing of the matter +themselves. It can hint a ribbon for implied services in the air of a +common report; and with the carelessness of a casual paragraph, suggest +officers into commands, to which they have no pretension but their +wishes. This, sir, is the last principal class of the art of puffing—an +art which I hope you will now agree with me is of the highest dignity, +yielding a tablature of benevolence and public spirit; befriending +equally trade, gallantry, criticism, and politics: the applause of +genius—the register of charity—the triumph of heroism—the self-defence +of contractors—the fame of orators—and the gazette of ministers. + +SNEER. +Sir, I am completely a convert both to the importance and ingenuity of +your profession; and now, sir, there is but one thing which can +possibly increase my respect for you, and that is, your permitting me +to be present this morning at the rehearsal of your new trage— + +PUFF. +Hush, for heaven’s sake!—_My_ tragedy!—Egad, Dangle, I take this very +ill: you know how apprehensive I am of being known to be the author. + +DANGLE. +I’faith I would not have told—but it’s in the papers, and your name at +length in the Morning Chronicle. + +PUFF. +Ah! those damned editors never can keep a secret I—Well, Mr. Sneer, no +doubt you will do me great honour—I shall be infinitely happy—highly +flattered—Dang. I believe it must be near the time—shall we go +together? + +PUFF. +No; it will, not be yet this hour, for they are always late at that +theatre: besides, I must meet you there, for I have some little matters +here to send to the papers, and a few paragraphs to scribble before I +go.—[_Looking at memorandums._] Here is _A conscientious Baker, on the +subject of the Army Bread; and a Detester of visible Brick-work, in +favour of the new invented Stucco_; both in the style of Junius, and +promised for tomorrow. The Thames navigation too is at a stand. Misomud +or Anti-shoal must go to work again directly.—Here too are some +political memorandums—I see; ay— + +_To take Paul Jones and get the Indiamen out of the Shannon—reinforce +Byron—compel the Dutch to_—so!—I must do that in the evening papers, or +reserve it for the Morning Herald; for I know that I have undertaken +tomorrow, besides, to establish the unanimity of the fleet in the +Public Advertiser, and to shoot Charles Fox in the Morning Post.—So, +egad, I ha’n’t a moment to lose. + +DANGLE. +Well, we’ll meet in the Green Room. [Exeunt severally. + + + +ACT II. + +SCENE I.—The Theatre before the Curtain. + +_Enter_ DANGLE, PUFF, and SNEER. + +PUFF. +No, no, sir; what Shakspeare says of actors may be better applied to +the purpose of plays; they ought to be the abstract and brief +chronicles of the time. Therefore when history, and particularly the +history of our own country, furnishes anything like a case in point, to +the time in which an author writes, if he knows his own interest, he +will take advantage of it; so, sir, I call my tragedy The Spanish +Armada; and have laid the scene before Tilbury Fort. + +SNEER. +A most happy thought, certainly I Dang. Egad it was—I told you so. But, +pray now, I don’t understand how you have contrived to introduce any +love into it. + +PUFF. +Love! oh, nothing so easy! for it is a received point among poets, that +where history gives you a good heroic outline for a play, you may fill +up with a little love at your own discretion: in doing which, nine +times out of ten, you only make up a deficiency in the private history +of the times. Now, I rather think I have done this with some success. + +SNEER. +No scandal about Queen Elizabeth, I hope? + +PUFF. +O Lud! no, no;—I only suppose the governor of Tilbury Fort’s daughter +to be in love with the son of the Spanish admiral. + +SNEER. +Oh, is that all! + +DANGLE. +Excellent, i’faith! I see at once. But won’t this appear rather +improbable? + +PUFF. +To be sure it will—but what the plague! a play is not to show +occurrences that happen every day, but things just so strange, that +though they never did, they might happen. + +SNEER. +Certainly nothing is unnatural, that is not physically impossible. + +PUFF. +Very true—and for that matter Don Ferolo Whiskerandos, for that’s the +lover’s name, might have been over here in the train of the Spanish +ambassador, or Tilburina, for that is the lady’s name, might have been +in love with him, from having heard his character, or seen his picture; +or from knowing that he was the last man in the world she ought to be +in love with—or for any other good female reason.—However; sir, the +fact is, that though she is but a knight’s daughter, egad! she is in +love like any princess! + +DANGLE. +Poor young lady! I feel for her already! for I can conceive how great +the conflict must be between her passion and her duty; her love for her +country, and her love for Don Ferolo Whiskerandos! + +PUFF. +Oh, amazing!—her poor susceptible heart is swayed to and fro by +contending passions like— + +_Enter_ UNDER PROMPTER. + +UNDER PROMPTER. +Sir, the scene is set, and everything is ready to begin, if you please. + +PUFF. +Egad, then we’ll lose no time. + +UNDER PROMPTER. +Though, I believe, sir, you will find it very short, for all the +performers have profited by the kind permission you granted them. + +PUFF. +Hey! what? + +UNDER PROMPTER. +You know, sir, you gave them leave to cut out or omit whatever they +found heavy or unnecessary to the plot, and I must own they have taken +very liberal advantage of your indulgence. + +PUFF. +Well, well.—They are in general very good judges, and I know I am +luxuriant.—Now, Mr. Hopkins, as soon as you please. + +UNDER PROMPTER. +[_To the_ Orchestra.] Gentlemen, will you play a few bars of something, +just to— + +PUFF. +Ay, that’s right; for as we have the scenes and dresses, egad, we’ll go +to’t, as if it was the first night’s performance,—but you need not mind +stopping between the acts— [_Exit_ UNDER PROMPTER.—Orchestra _play—then +the bell rings_.] Soh! stand clear; gentlemen. Now you know there will +be a cry of down! down!—Hats off!—Silence!—Then up curtain, and let us +see what our painters have done for us. [_Curtain rises_.] + +SCENE II.—_Tilbury Fort_. _Two_ SENTINELS _discovered asleep_. + +DANGLE. +Tilbury Fort!—very fine indeed! + +PUFF. +Now, what do you think I open with? + +SNEER. +Faith, I can’t guess— + +PUFF. +A clock.—Hark!—[_Clock strikes_.] I open with a clock striking, to +beget an awful attention in the audience: it also marks the time, which +is four o’clock in the morning, and saves a description of the rising +sun, and a great deal about gilding the eastern hemisphere. + +DANGLE. +But pray, are the sentinels to be asleep? + +PUFF. +Fast as watchmen. + +SNEER. +Isn’t that odd though at such an alarming crisis? + +PUFF. +To be sure it is,—but smaller things must give way to a striking scene +at the opening; that’s a rule. And the case is, that two great men are +coming to this very spot to begin the piece; now it is not to be +supposed they would open their lips, if these fellows were watching +them; so, egad, I must either have sent them off their posts, or set +them asleep. + +SNEER. +Oh, that accounts for it. But tell us, who are these coming? + +PUFF. +These are they—Sir Walter Raleigh, and Sir Christopher Hatton. You’ll +know Sir Christopher by his turning out his toes—famous, you know, for +his dancing. I like to preserve all the little traits of character.—Now +attend. _Enter_ SIR WALTER RALEIGH and SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON. + +SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON. +True, gallant Raleigh! + +DANGLE. +What, they had been talking before? + +PUFF. +O yes; all the way as they came along.—[To the actors.] I beg pardon, +gentlemen, but these are particular friends of mine, whose remarks may +be of great service to us.—[_To_ SNEER _and_ DANGLE.] Don’t mind +interrupting them whenever anything strikes you. _Sir Christ_. + +TRUE, GALLANT RALEIGH +But oh, thou champion of thy country’s fame, +There is a question which I yet must ask +A question which I never ask’d before— +What mean these mighty armaments? +This general muster? and this throng of chiefs? + +SNEER. +Pray, Mr. Puff, how came Sir Christopher Hatton never to ask that +question before? + +PUFF. +What before the play began?-how the plague could he? + +DANGLE. +That’s true, i’faith! + +PUFF. +But you will hear what he thinks of the matter. + +SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON. +Alas I my noble friend, when I behold +Yon tented plains in martial symmetry +Array’d; when I count o’er yon glittering lines +Of crested warriors, where the proud steeds’ neigh, +And valour-breathing trumpet’s shrill appeal, +Responsive vibrate on my listening ear; +When virgin majesty herself I view, +Like her protecting Pallas, veil’d in steel, +With graceful confidence exhort to arms! +When, briefly, all I hear or see bears stamp +Of martial vigilance and stern defence, +I cannot but surmise—forgive, my friend, +If the conjecture’s rash—I cannot but +Surmise the state some danger apprehends! + +SNEER. +A very cautious conjecture that. + +PUFF. +Yes, that’s his character; not to give an opinion but on secure +grounds.—Now then. + +SIR WALTER RALEIGH. +O most accomplish’d Christopher!— + +PUFF. +He calls him by his Christian name, to show that they are on the most +familiar terms. + +SIR WALTER RALEIGH. +O most accomplish’d Christopher! I find Thy staunch sagacity still +tracks the future, In the fresh print of the o’ertaken past. + +PUFF. +Figurative! + +SIR WALTER RALEIGH. +Thy fears are just. + +SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON. +But where? whence? when? and what The danger is,—methinks I fain would +learn. + +SIR WALTER RALEIGH. +You know, my friend, scarce two revolving suns, And three revolving +moons, have closed their course Since haughty Philip, in despite of +peace, With hostile hand hath struck at England’s trade. + +SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON. +I know it well. + +SIR WALTER RALEIGH. +Philip, you know, is proud Iberia’s king! + +SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON. +He is. + +SIR WALTER RALEIGH. +His subjects in base bigotry And Catholic oppression held;-while we, +You know, the Protestant persuasion hold. + +SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON. +We do. + +SIR WALTER RALEIGH. +You know, beside, his boasted armament, The famed Armada, by the Pope +baptized, With purpose to invade these realms— + +SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON. +Is sailed, Our last advices so report. + +SIR WALTER RALEIGH. +While the Iberian admiral’s chief hope, His darling son— + +SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON. +Ferolo Whiskerandos hight— + +SIR WALTER RALEIGH. +The same—by chance a prisoner hath been ta’en, And in this fort of +Tilbury— + +SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON. +Is now Confined—’tis true, and oft from yon tall turret’s top I’ve +mark’d the youthful Spaniard’s haughty mien Unconquer’d, though in +chains. + +SIR WALTER RALEIGH. +You also know—Dang. Mr. Puff, as he knows all this, why does Sir Walter +go on telling him? + +PUFF. +But the audience are not supposed to know any-thing of the matter, are +they? Sneer. True; but I think you manage ill: for there certainly +appears no reason why Sir Walter should be so communicative. + +PUFF. +’Fore Gad, now, that is one of the most ungrateful observations I ever +heard!—for the less inducement he has to tell all this, the more, I +think, you ought to be obliged to him; for I am sure you’d know nothing +of the matter without it. + +DANGLE. +That’s very true, upon my word. + +PUFF. +But you will find he was not going on. _Sir Christ_. +Enough, enough—’tis plain—and I no more Am in amazement lost!— + +PUFF. +Here, now you see, Sir Christopher did not in fact ask any one question +for his own information. + +SNEER. +No, indeed: his has been a most disinterested curiosity! + +DANGLE. +Really, I find that we are very much obliged to them both. + +PUFF. +To be sure you are. Now then for the commander-in-chief, the Earl of +Leicester, who, you know, was no favourite but of the queen’s.—We left +off—_in amazement lost!_ _Sir Christ_. +Am in amazement lost. But, see where noble Leicester comes supreme in +honours and command. + +SIR WALTER RALEIGH. +And yet, methinks, At such a time, so perilous, so fear’d, That staff +might well become an abler grasp. + +SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON. +And so, by Heaven! think I; but soft, he’s here! + +PUFF. +Ay, they envy him! + +SNEER. +But who are these with him? + +PUFF. +Oh! very valiant knights: one is the governor of the fort, the other +the master of the horse. And now, I think, you shall hear some better +language: I was obliged to be plain and intelligible in the first +scene, because there was so much matter of fact in it; but now, +i’faith, you have trope, figure, and metaphor, as plenty as +noun-substantives. _Enter_ EARL OF LEICESTER, GOVERNOR, MASTER OF THE +HORSE, KNIGHTS, &c. + +EARL OF LEICESTER. +How’s this, my friends! is’t thus your new-fledged zeal, +And plumed valour moulds in roosted sloth? +Why dimly glimmers that heroic flame, +Whose reddening blaze, by patriot spirit fed, +Should be the beacon of a kindling realm? +Can the quick current of a patriot heart +Thus stagnate in a cold and weedy converse, +Or freeze in tideless inactivity? +No! rather let the fountain of your valour +Spring through each stream of enterprise, +Each petty channel of conducive daring, +Till the full torrent of your foaming wrath +O’erwhelm the flats of sunk hostility! + +PUFF. +There it is—followed up! _Sir Walt_. + +No more!—the freshening breath of thy rebuke +Hath fill’d the swelling canvas of our souls! +And thus, though fate should cut the cable of +[_All take hands._] +Our topmost hopes, in friendship’s closing line +We’ll grapple with despair, and if we fall, +We’ll fall in glory’s wake! + +EARL OF LEICESTER. +There spoke old England’s genius! +Then, are we all resolved? + +ALL. +We are—all resolved. + +EARL OF LEICESTER. +To conquer—or be free? + +ALL. +To conquer, or be free. + +EARL OF LEICESTER. +All? + +ALL. +All. + +DANGLE. +_Nem. con_. egad! + +PUFF. +O yes!—where they do agree on the stage, their unanimity is wonderful! + +EARL OF LEICESTER. +Then let’s embrace—and now—[_Kneels._ + +SNEER. +What the plague, is he going to pray? + +PUFF. +Yes; hush!—in great emergencies, there Is nothing like a prayer. + +EARL OF LEICESTER. +O mighty Mars! + +DANGLE. +But why should he pray to Mars? + +PUFF. +Hush! + +EARL OF LEICESTER. +If in thy homage bred, +Each point of discipline I’ve still observed; +Nor but by due promotion, and the right +Of service, to the rank of major-general +Have risen; assist thy votary now! + +GOVERNOR. +Yet do not rise—hear me! [_Kneels._] + +MASTER OF THE HORSE. +And me! [_Kneels._] + +KNIGHT. +And me! [_Kneels._] + +SIR WALTER RALEIGH. +And me! [_Kneels._] + +SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON. +And me! [_Kneels._] + +PUFF. +Now pray altogether. + +ALL. +Behold thy votaries submissive beg, +That thou wilt deign to grant them all they ask; +Assist them to accomplish all their ends, +And sanctify whatever means they use +To gain them! + +SNEER. +A very orthodox quintetto! + +PUFF. +Vastly well, gentlemen!—Is that well managed or not? Have you such a +prayer as that on the stage? + +SNEER. +Not exactly. + +EARL OF LEICESTER. +[_To_ PUFF.] But, sir, you haven’t settled how we are to get off here. + +PUFF. +You could not go off kneeling, could you? + +SIR WALTER RALEIGH. +[_To_ PUFF.] O no, sir; impossible! + +PUFF. +It would have a good effect i’faith, if you could exeunt praying!—Yes, +and would vary the established mode of springing off with a glance at +the pit. + +SNEER. +Oh, never mind, so as you get them off!—I’ll answer for it, the +audience won’t care how. + +PUFF. +Well, then, repeat the last line standing, and go off the old way. +_All_. +And sanctify whatever means we use To gain them. [_Exeunt_.] + +DANGLE. +Bravo! a fine exit. + +SNEER. +Well, really, Mr. Puff— + +PUFF. +Stay a moment! _The_ SENTINELS _get up._ + +FIRST SENTINEL. +All this shall to Lord Burleigh’s ear. + +SECOND SENTINEL. +’Tis meet it should. [_Exeunt_.] + +DANGLE. +Hey!—why, I thought those fellows had been asleep? + +PUFF. +Only a pretence; there’s the art of it: they were spies of Lord +Burleigh’s. + +SNEER. +But isn’t it odd they never were taken notice of, not even by the +commander-in-chief? + +PUFF. +O Lud, sir! if people who want to listen, or overhear, were not always +connived at in a tragedy, there would be no carrying on any plot in the +world. + +DANGLE. +That’s certain. + +PUFF. +But take care, my dear Dangle! the morning gun is going to fire. +[_Cannon fires_.] + +DANGLE. +Well, that will have a fine effect! + +PUFF. +I think so, and helps to realize the scene.—[_Cannon twice_.] What the +plague! three morning guns! there never is but one!—Ay, this is always +the way at the theatre: give these fellows a good thing, and they never +know when to have done with it.—You have no more cannon to fire? + +UNDER PROMPTER. +[_Within_.] No, sir. + +PUFF. +Now, then, for soft music. + +SNEER. +Pray, what’s that for? + +PUFF. +It shows that Tilburina is coming!—nothing introduces you a heroine +like soft music. Here she comes! + +DANGLE. +And her confidant, I suppose? + +PUFF. +To be sure! Here they are—inconsolable to the minuet in Ariadne! [Soft +music.] _Enter_ TILNURINA _and_ CONFIDANT. + +TILNURINA. +Now has the whispering breath of gentle morn +Bid Nature’s voice and Nature’s beauty rise; +While orient Phoebus, with unborrow’d hues, +Clothes the waked loveliness which all night slept +In heavenly drapery I Darkness is fled. +Now flowers unfold their beauties to the sun, +And, blushing, kiss the beam he sends to wake them— +The striped carnation, and the guarded rose, +The vulgar wallflower, and smart gillyflower, +The polyanthus mean—the dapper daisy, +Sweet-William, and sweet marjoram—and all +The tribe of single and of double pinks! +Now, too, the feather’d warblers tune their notes +Around, and charm the listening grove. The lark! +The linnet! chaffinch! bullfinch! goldfinch! greenfinch! +But O, to me no joy can they afford! +Nor rose, nor wallflower, nor smart gillyflower, +Nor polyanthus mean, nor dapper daisy, +Nor William sweet, nor marjoram—nor lark, +Linnet nor all the finches of the grove! + +PUFF. +Your white handkerchief, madam!— + +TILNURINA. +I thought, sir, I wasn’t to use that till _heart-rending woe_. + +PUFF. +O yes, madam, at _the finches of the grove_, if you please. + +TILNURINA. +Nor lark, +Linnet, nor all the finches of the grove! [Weeps.] + +PUFF. +Vastly well, madam! _Dang_. +Vastly well, indeed! + +TILNURINA. +For, O, too sure, heart-rending woe is now +The lot of wretched Tilburina! + +CONFIDANT. +Oh!—it’s too much. + +SNEER. +Oh!—it is indeed. + +PUFF. +Be comforted, sweet lady; for who knows, +But Heaven has yet some milk-white day in store? + +TILNURINA. +Alas! my gentle Nora, Thy tender youth as yet hath never mourn’d Love’s +fatal dart. Else wouldst thou know, that when The soul is sunk in +comfortless despair, It cannot taste of merriment. + +DANGLE. +That’s certain. _Con_. +But see where your stern father comes It is not meet that he should +find you thus. + +PUFF. +Hey, what the plague!—what a cut is here! Why, what is become of the +description of her first meeting with Don Whiskerandos—his gallant +behaviour in the sea-fight—and the simile of the canary-bird? + +TILNURINA. +Indeed, sir, you’ll find they will not be missed. + +PUFF. +Very well, very well! + +TILNURINA. +[_To_ CONFIDANT.] The cue, ma’am, if you please. + +CONFIDANT. +It is not meet that he should find you thus. + +TILNURINA. +Thou counsel’st right; but ’tis no easy task For barefaced grief to +wear a mask of joy. + +_Enter_. GOVERNOR. + +GOVERNOR. +How’s this!—in tears?—O Tilburina, shame! Is this a time for maudling +tenderness, And Cupid’s baby woes?—Hast thou not heard That haughty +Spain’s pope-consecrated fleet Advances to our shores, while England’s +fate, Like a clipp’d guinea, trembles in the scale? + +TILNURINA. +Then is the crisis of my fate at hand! I see the fleets approach—I see— + +PUFF. +Now, pray, gentlemen, mind. This is one of the most useful figures we +tragedy writers have, by which a hero or heroine, in consideration of +their being often obliged to overlook things that are on the stage, is +allowed to hear and see a number of things that are not. + +SNEER. +Yes; a kind of poetical second-sight! + +PUFF. +Yes.—Now then, madam. _Tilb_. +I see their decks Are clear’d!—I see the signal made! The line is +form’d!—a cable’s length asunder! I see the frigates station’d in the +rear; And now, I hear the thunder of the guns! I hear the victor’s +shouts—I also hear The vanquish’d groan!—and now ’tis smoke-and now I +see the loose sails shiver in the wind! I see—I see—what soon you’ll +see— + +GOVERNOR. +Hold, daughter! peace! this love hath turn’d thy brain The Spanish +fleet thou canst not see—because—It is not yet in sight! + +DANGLE. +Egad, though, the governor seems to make no allowance for this poetical +figure you talk of. + +PUFF. +No, a plain matter-of-fact man;—that’s his character. _Tilb_. +But will you then refuse his offer? + +GOVERNOR. +I must—I will—I can—I ought—I do. + +TILNURINA. +Think what a noble price. + +GOVERNOR. +No more—you urge in vain. + +TILNURINA. +His liberty is all he asks. + +SNEER. +All who asks, Mr. Puff? Who is— + +PUFF. +Egad, sir, I can’t tell! Here has been such cutting and slashing, I +don’t know where they have got to myself. + +TILNURINA. +Indeed, sir, you will find it will connect very well. —And your reward +secure. + +PUFF. +Oh, if they hadn’t been so devilish free with their cutting here, you +would have found that Don Whiskerandos has been tampering for his +liberty, and has persuaded Tilburina to make this proposal to her +father. And now, pray observe the conciseness with which the argument +is conducted. Egad, the _pro_ and _con_ goes as smart as hits in a +fencing match. It is indeed a sort of small-sword-logic, which we have +borrowed from the French. + +TILNURINA. +A retreat in Spain! + +GOVERNOR. +Outlawry here! + +TILNURINA. +Your daughter’s prayer! + +GOVERNOR. +Your father’s oath! + +TILNURINA. +My lover! + +GOVERNOR. +My country! + +TILNURINA. +Tilburina! + +GOVERNOR. +England! + +TILNURINA. +A title! + +GOVERNOR. +Honour! + +TILNURINA. +A pension! + +GOVERNOR. +Conscience! + +TILNURINA. +A thousand pounds! + +GOVERNOR. +Ha! thou hast touch’d me nearly! + +PUFF. +There you see-she threw in _Tilburina_. +Quick, parry Carte with _England_! Ha! thrust in tierce _a +title_!—parried by _honour_. +Ha! _a pension_ over the arm!—put by by _conscience_. +Then flankonade with _a thousand pounds_—and a palpable hit, egad! + +TILNURINA. +Canst thou—Reject the suppliant, and the daughter too? + +GOVERNOR. +No more; I would not hear thee plead in vain: The father softens—but +the governor Is fix’d! [_Exit_.] + +DANGLE. +Ay, that antithesis of persons is a most established figure. + +TILNURINA. +’Tis well,—hence then, fond hopes,—fond passion hence; Duty, behold I +am all over thine— + +DON FEROLO WHISKERANDOS. +[_Without_.] Where is my love—my— + +TILNURINA. +Ha! + +_Enter_ DON FEROLO WHISKERANDOS. + +DON FEROLO WHISKERANDOS. +My beauteous enemy!— + +PUFF. +O dear, ma’am, you must start a great deal more than that! Consider, +you had just determined in favour of duty—when, in a moment, the sound +of his voice revives your passion—overthrows your resolution—destroys +your obedience. If you don’t express all that in your start, you do +nothing at all. + +TILNURINA. +Well, we’ll try again. + +DANGLE. +Speaking from within has always a fine effect. + +SNEER. +Very. + +DON FEROLO WHISKERANDOS. +My conquering Tilburina! How! is’t thus We meet? why are thy looks +averse? what means That falling tear—that frown of boding woe? Ha! now +indeed I am a prisoner! Yes, now I feel the galling weight of these +Disgraceful chains—which, cruel Tilburina! Thy doting captive gloried +in before.—But thou art false, and Whiskerandos is undone! + +TILNURINA. +O no! how little dost thou know thy Tilburina! + +DON FEROLO WHISKERANDOS. +Art thou then true?—Begone cares, doubts, and fears, I make you all a +present to the winds; And if the winds reject you—try the waves. + +PUFF. +The wind, you know, is the established receiver of all stolen sighs, +and cast-off griefs and apprehensions. + +TILNURINA. +Yet must we part!—stern duty seals our doom Though here I call yon +conscious clouds to witness, Could I pursue the bias of my soul, All +friends, all right of parents, I’d disclaim, And thou, my Whiskerandos, +shouldst be father And mother, brother, cousin, uncle, aunt, And friend +to me! + +DON FEROLO WHISKERANDOS. +Oh, matchless excellence! and must we part? Well, if—we must—we +must—and in that case The less is said the better. + +PUFF. +Heyday! here’s a cut!—What, are all the mutual protestations out? + +TILNURINA. +Now, pray, sir, don’t interrupt us just here: you ruin our feelings. + +PUFF. +Your feelings!—but, zounds, my feelings, ma’am! + +SNEER. +No, pray don’t interrupt them. _Whisk_. +One last embrace. + +TILNURINA. +Now,—farewell, for ever. + +DON FEROLO WHISKERANDOS. +For ever! + +TILNURINA. +Ay, for ever! [_Going_.] + +PUFF. +’Sdeath and fury!—Gad’s life!—sir! madam! if you go out without the +parting look, you might as well dance out. Here, here! + +CONFIDANT. +But pray, sir, how am I to get off here? + +PUFF. +You! pshaw! what the devil signifies how you get off! edge away at the +top, or where you will—[_Pushes the_ CONFIDANT _off_.] Now, ma’am, you +see— + +TILNURINA. +We understand you, sir. Ay, for ever. + +BOTH. +Oh! [_Turning back, and exeunt.—Scene closes_.] + +DANGLE. +Oh, charming! + +PUFF. +Hey!—’tis pretty well, I believe: you see I don’t attempt to strike out +anything new—but I take it I improve on the established modes. + +SNEER. +You do, indeed! But pray is not Queen Elizabeth to appear? + +PUFF. +No, not once—but she is to be talked of for ever; so that, egad, you’ll +think a hundred times that she is on the point of coming in. + +SNEER. +Hang it, I think it’s a pity to keep her in the green-room all the +night. + +PUFF. +O no, that always has a fine effect—it keeps up expectation. + +DANGLE. +But are we not to have a battle? + +PUFF. +Yes, yes, you will have a battle at last: but, egad, it’s not to be by +land, but by sea—and that is the only quite new thing in the piece. + +DANGLE. +What, Drake at the Armada, hey? + +PUFF. +Yes, i’faith—fire-ships and all; then we shall end with the procession. +Hey, that will do, I think?, + +SNEER. +No doubt on’t. + +PUFF. +Come, we must not lose time; so now for the under-plot. + +SNEER. +What the plague, have you another plot? + +PUFF. +O Lord, yes; ever while you live have two plots to your tragedy. The +grand point in managing them is only to let your under-plot have as +little connection with your main-plot as possible.—I flatter myself +nothing can be more distinct than mine; for as in my chief plot the +characters are all great people, I have laid my under-plot in low life, +and as the former is to end in deep distress, I make the other end as +happy as a farce.—Now, Mr. Hopkins, as soon as you please. + +_Enter_ UNDER PROMPTER. + +UNDER PROMPTER. +Sir, the carpenter says it is impossible you can go to the park scene +yet. + +PUFF. +The park scene! no! I mean the description scene here, in the wood. + +UNDER PROMPTER. +Sir, the performers have cut it out. + +PUFF. +Cut it out! + +UNDER PROMPTER. +Yes, sir. + +PUFF. +What! the whole account of Queen Elizabeth? + +UNDER PROMPTER. +Yes, sir. + +PUFF. +And the description of her horse and side-saddle? + +UNDER PROMPTER. +Yes, sir. + +PUFF. +So, so; this is very fine indeed!—Mr. Hopkins, how the plague could you +suffer this? + +_Mr. Hop_. +[_Within._] Sir, indeed the pruning-knife— + +PUFF. +The pruning-knife—zounds!—the axe! Why, here has been such lopping and +topping, I shan’t have the bare trunk of my play left presently!—Very +well, sir—the performers must do as they please; but, upon my soul, +I’ll print it every word. + +SNEER. +That I would, indeed. + +PUFF. +Very well, sir; then we must go on.—Zounds! I would not have parted +with the description of the horse!—Well, sir, go on.—Sir, it was one of +the finest and most laboured things.—Very well, sir; let them go +on.—There you had him and his accoutrements, from the bit to the +crupper.—Very well, sir; we must go to the park scene. + +UNDER PROMPTER. +Sir, there is the point: the carpenters say, that unless there is some +business put in here before the drop, they sha’n’t have time to clear +away the fort, or sink Gravesend and the river. + +PUFF. +So! this is a pretty dilemma, truly!—Gentlemen, you must excuse +me—these fellows will never be ready, unless I go and look after them +myself. + +SNEER. +O dear, sir, these little things will happen. + +PUFF. +To cut out this scene!—but I’ll print it—egad, I’ll print it every +word! [_Exeunt_.] + + + +ACT III. + +SCENE I.—_The Theatre, before the curtain._ + +_Enter_ PUFF, SNEER, _and_ DANGLE. + +PUFF. +Well, we are ready; now then for the justices. [_Curtain rises._] +JUSTICES, CONSTABLES, &c., _discovered_. + +SNEER. +This, I suppose, is a sort of senate scene. + +PUFF. +To be sure; there has not been one yet. + +DANGLE. +It is the under-plot, isn’t it? + +PUFF. +Yes.—What, gentlemen, do you mean to go at once to the discovery scene? + +JUSTICE. +If you please, sir. + +PUFF. +Oh, very well!—Hark’ee, I don’t choose to say anything more; but, +i’faith they have mangled my play in a most shocking manner. + +DANGLE. +It’s a great pity! + +PUFF. +Now, then, Mr. justice, if you please. + +JUSTICE. +Are all the volunteers without? + +CONSTABLE. +They are. Some ten in fetters, and some twenty drunk. + +JUSTICE. +Attends the youth, whose most opprobrious fame And clear convicted +crimes have stamp’d him soldier? + +CONSTABLE. +He waits your pleasure; eager to repay The best reprieve that sends him +to the fields Of glory, there to raise his branded hand In honour’s +cause. + +JUSTICE. +’Tis well—’tis justice arms him! Oh! may he now defend his country’s +laws With half the spirit he has broke them all! If ’tis your worship’s +pleasure, bid him enter. + +CONSTABLE. +I fly, the herald of your will. [_Exit._] + +PUFF. +Quick, sir. + +SNEER. +But, Mr. Puff, I think not only the justice, but the clown seems to +talk in as high a style as the first hero among them. + +PUFF. +Heaven forbid they should not in a free country!—Sir, I am not for +making slavish distinctions, and giving all the fine language to the +upper sort of people. + +DANGLE. +That’s very noble in you, indeed. _Enter_ JUSTICE’S LADY. + +PUFF. +Now, pray mark this scene. _Lady_ Forgive this interruption, good my +love; But as I just now pass’d a prisoner youth, Whom rude hands hither +lead, strange bodings seized My fluttering heart, and to myself I said, +An’ if our Tom had lived, he’d surely been This stripling’s height! + +JUSTICE. +Ha! sure some powerful sympathy directs Us both— + +_Enter_ CONSTABLE _with_ SON. What is thy name? + +SON. +My name is Tom Jenkins—_alias_ have I none—Though orphan’d, and without +a friend! + +JUSTICE. +Thy parents? + +SON. +My father dwelt in Rochester—and was, As I have heard—a fishmonger—no +more. + +PUFF. +What, sir, do you leave out the account of your birth, parentage, and +education? + +SON. +They have settled it so, sir, here. + +PUFF. +Oh! oh! _Lady_. +How loudly nature whispers to my heart Had he no other name? + +SON. +I’ve seen a bill Of his sign’d Tomkins, creditor. + +JUSTICE. +This does indeed confirm each circumstance The gipsy told!—Prepare! + +SON. +I do. + +JUSTICE. +No orphan, nor without a friend art thou—I am thy father; here’s thy +mother; there Thy uncle—this thy first cousin, and those are all your +near relations! + +JUSTICE’S LADY. +O ecstasy of bliss! + +SON. +O most unlook’d for happiness! + +JUSTICE. +O wonderful event! [_They faint alternately in each other’s arms_.] + +PUFF. +There, you see, relationship, like murder, will out. + +JUSTICE. +Now let’s revive—else were this joy too much! But come—and we’ll unfold +the rest within; And thou, my boy, must needs want rest and food. Hence +may each orphan hope, as chance directs, To find a father—where he +least expects! [_Exeunt_.] + +PUFF. +What do you think of that? + +DANGLE. +One of the finest discovery-scenes I ever saw!—Why, this under-plot +would have made a tragedy itself. + +SNEER. +Ay! or a comedy either. + +PUFF. +And keeps quite clear you see of the other. _Enter_ SCENEMEN, _taking +away the seats_. + +PUFF. +The scene remains, does it? + +SCENEMAN. +Yes, sir. + +PUFF. +You are to leave one chair, you know.—But it is always awkward in a +tragedy, to have your fellows coming in in your play-house liveries to +remove things.—I wish that could be managed better.—So now for my +mysterious yeoman. _Enter_ BEEFEATER. + +BEEFEATER. +Perdition catch my soul, but I do love thee. + +SNEER. +Haven’t I heard that line before? + +PUFF. +No, I fancy not.—Where, pray? + +DANGLE. +Yes, I think there is something like it in Othello. + +PUFF. +Gad! now you put me in mind on’t, I believe there is—but that’s of no +consequence; all that can be said is, that two people happened to hit +upon the same thought—and Shakspeare made use of it first, that’s all. + +SNEER. +Very true. + +PUFF. +Now, sir, your soliloquy—but speak more to the pit, if you please—the +soliloquy always to the pit, that’s a rule. + +BEEFEATER. +Though hopeless love finds comfort in despair, It never can endure a +rival’s bliss! But soft—I am observed. [_Exit_.] + +DANGLE. +That’s a very short soliloquy. + +PUFF. +Yes—but it would have been a great deal longer if he had not been +observed. + +SNEER. +A most sentimental Beefeater that, Mr. Puff! + +PUFF. +Hark’ee—I would not have you be too sure that he is a Beefeater. + +SNEER. +What, a hero in disguise? + +PUFF. +No matter—I only give you a hint. But now for my principal character. +Here he comes—Lord Burleigh in person! Pray, gentlemen, step this +way—softly—I only hope the Lord High Treasurer is perfect—if he is but +perfect! _Enter_ LORD BURLEIGH, _goes slowly to a chair, and sits._ + +SNEER. +Mr. Puff! + +PUFF. +Hush!—Vastly well, sir! vastly well! a most interesting gravity. + +DANGLE. +What, isn’t he to speak at all? + +PUFF. +Egad, I thought you’d ask me that!—Yes, it is a very likely thing—that +a minister in his situation, with the whole affairs of the nation on +his head, should have time to talk!—But hush! or you’ll put him out. + +SNEER. +Put him out; how the plague can that be, if he’s not going to say +anything? + +PUFF. +There’s the reason! why, his part is to think; and how the plague do +you imagine he can think if you keep talking? + +DANGLE. +That’s very true, upon my word! LORD BURLEIGH _comes forward, shakes +his head, and exit_. + +SNEER. +He is very perfect indeed! Now, pray what did he mean by that? + +PUFF. +You don’t take it? + +SNEER. +No, I don’t, upon my soul. + +PUFF. +Why, by that shake of the head, he gave you to understand that even +though they had more justice in their cause, and wisdom in their +measures—yet, if there was not a greater spirit shown on the part of +the people, the country would at last fall a sacrifice to the hostile +ambition of the Spanish monarchy. + +SNEER. +The devil! did he mean all that by shaking his head? + +PUFF. +Every word of it—if he shook his head as I taught him. + +DANGLE. +Ah! there certainly is a vast deal to be done on the stage by dumb show +and expressions of face; and a judicious author knows how much he may +trust to it. + +SNEER. +Oh, here are some of our old acquaintance. _Enter_ SIR CHRISTOPHER +HATTON _and_ SIR WALTER RALEIGH. + +SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON. +My niece and your niece too! By Heaven! there’s witchcraft in’t.—He +could not else Have gain’d their hearts.—But see where they approach +Some horrid purpose lowering on their brows! + +SIR WALTER RALEIGH. +Let us withdraw and mark them. [_They withdraw_.] + +SNEER. +What is all this? + +PUFF. +Ah! here has been more pruning!—but the fact is, these two young ladies +are also in love with Don Whiskerandos.—Now, gentlemen, this scene goes +entirely for what we call situation and stage effect, by which the +greatest applause may be obtained, without the assistance of language, +sentiment, or character: pray mark! _Enter the two_ NIECES. + +FIRST NIECE. +Ellena here! She is his scorn as much as I—that is Some comfort still ! + +PUFF. +O dear, madam, you are not to say that to her face!—Aside, ma’am, +aside.—The whole scene is to be aside. _1st Niece_. +She is his scorn as much as I—that is Some comfort still. [_Aside_.] + +SECOND NIECE. +I know he prizes not Pollina’s love; But Tilburina lords it o’er his +heart. [_Aside_.] + +FIRST NIECE. +But see the proud destroyer of my peace. Revenge is all the good I’ve +left. [_Aside_.] + +SECOND NIECE. +He comes, the false disturber of my quiet. Now vengeance do thy worst. +[_Aside_.] + +_Enter_ DON FEROLO WHISKERANDOS. + +DON FEROLO WHISKERANDOS. +O hateful liberty—if thus in vain I seek my Tilburina! + +BOTH NIECES. +And ever shalt! SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON _and_ SIR WALTER RALEIGH _come +forward_. + +SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON and SIR WALTER RALEIGH. +Hold! we will avenge you. + +DON FEROLO WHISKERANDOS. +Hold _you_—or see your nieces bleed! [_The two_ NIECES _draw their two +daggers to strike_ WHISKERANDOS: _the two_ UNCLES _at the instant, with +their two swords drawn, catch their two_ NIECES’ _arms, and turn the +points of their swords to_ WHISKERANDOS, _who immediately draws two +daggers, and holds them to the two_ NIECES’ _bosoms_.] + +PUFF. +There’s situation for you! there’s an heroic group!—You see the ladies +can’t stab Whiskerandos—he durst not strike them, for fear of their +uncles—the uncles durst not kill him, because of their nieces.—I have +them all at a dead lock!—for every one of them is afraid to let go +first. + +SNEER. +Why, then they must stand there for ever! + +PUFF. +So they would, if I hadn’t a very fine contrivance for’t.—Now +mind—_Enter_ BEEFEATER, _with his halbert_. + +BEEFEATER. +In the queen’s name I charge you all to drop Your swords and daggers! +[_They drop their swords and daggers_.] + +SNEER. +That is a contrivance indeed! + +PUFF. +Ay—in the queen’s name. + +SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON. +Come, niece! + +SIR WALTER RALEIGH. +Come, niece! [_Exeunt with the two_ NIECES.] + +DON FEROLO WHISKERANDOS. +What’s he, who bids us thus renounce our guard? + +BEEFEATER. +Thou must do more—renounce thy love! + +DON FEROLO WHISKERANDOS. +Thou liest—base Beefeater! + +BEEFEATER. +Ha! hell! the lie! By Heaven thou’st roused the lion in my heart! Off, +yeoman’s habit!—base disguise! off! off! [_Discovers himself by +throwing off his upper dress, and appearing in a very fine waistcoat._] +Am I a Beefeater now? Or beams my crest as terrible as when In Biscay’s +Bay I took thy captive sloop? + +PUFF. +There, egad! he comes out to be the very captain of the privateer who +had taken Whiskerandos prisoner—and was himself an old lover of +Tilburina’s. + +DANGLE. +Admirably managed, indeed! + +PUFF. +Now, stand out of their way. _Whisk._ I thank thee, Fortune, that hast +thus bestowed A weapon to chastise this insolent. [_Takes up one of the +swords_.] + +BEEFEATER. +I take thy challenge, Spaniard, and I thank thee, Fortune, too! [_Takes +up the other sword_.] + +DANGLE. +That’s excellently contrived!—It seems as if the two uncles had left +their swords on purpose for them. + +PUFF. +No, egad, they could not help leaving them. _Whisk_. +Vengeance and Tilburina! + +BEEFEATER. +Exactly so—[_They fight—and after the usual number of wounds given_, +WHISKERANDOS _falls_.] + +DON FEROLO WHISKERANDOS. +O cursed parry!—that last thrust in tierce Was fatal.—Captain, thou +hast fenced well! And Whiskerandos quits this bustling scene For all +eter— + +BEEFEATER. +—nity—he would have added, but stern death Cut short his being, and the +noun at once! + +PUFF. +Oh, my dear sir, you are too slow: now mind me.—Sir, shall I trouble +you to die again? _Whisk_. +And Whiskerandos quits this bustling scene For all eter— + +BEEFEATER. +—nity—he would have added,— + +PUFF. +No, sir—that’s not it—once more, if you please. + +DON FEROLO WHISKERANDOS. +I wish, sir, you would practise this without me—I can’t stay dying here +all night. + +PUFF. +Very well; we’ll go over it by-and-by.—[_Exit_ WHISKERANDOS.] I must +humour these gentlemen! _Beef_. +Farewell, brave Spaniard! and when next— + +PUFF. +Dear sir, you needn’t speak that speech, as the body has walked off. + +BEEFEATER. +That’s true, sir—then I’ll join the fleet. + +PUFF. +If you please.—[Exit BEEFEATER.] Now, who comes on? _Enter_ GOVERNOR, +_with his hair properly disordered_. + +GOVERNOR. +A hemisphere of evil planets reign! And every planet sheds contagious +frenzy! My Spanish prisoner is slain! my daughter, Meeting the dead +corse borne along, has gone Distract! [_A loud flourish of trumpets_.] +But hark! I am summoned to the fort: Perhaps the fleets have met! +amazing crisis! O Tilburina! from thy aged father’s beard Thou’st +pluck’d the few brown hairs which time had left! [Exit.] + +SNEER. +Poor gentleman! + +PUFF. +Yes—and no one to blame but his daughter! + +DANGLE. +And the planets— + +PUFF. +True.—Now enter Tilburina! + +SNEER. +Egad, the business comes on quick here. + +PUFF. +Yes, sir—now she comes in stark mad in white satin. + +SNEER. +Why in white satin? + +PUFF. +O Lord, sir—when a heroine goes mad, she always goes into white +satin.—Don’t she, Dangle? + +DANGLE. +Always—it’s a rule. + +PUFF. +Yes—here it is—[_Looking at the book_.] Enter Tilburina stark mad in +white satin, and her confidant stark mad in white linen. _Enter_ +TILBURINA _and_ CONFIDANT, _mad, according to custom_. + +SNEER. +But, what the deuce! is the confidant to be mad too? + +PUFF. +To be sure she is: the confidant is always to do whatever her mistress +does; weep when she weeps, smile when she smiles, go mad when she goes +mad.—Now, Madam Confidant—but keep your madness in the background, if +you please. _Tilb._ The wind whistles—the moon rises—see, They have +kill’d my squirrel in his cage: Is this a grasshopper?—Ha! no; it is my +Whiskerandos—you shall not keep him—I know you have him in your +pocket—An oyster may be cross’d in love!—who says A whale’s a bird?—Ha! +did you call, my love?—He’s here! he’s there!—He’s everywhere! Ah me! +he’s nowhere! [_Exit_.] + +PUFF. +There, do you ever desire to see anybody madder than that? + +SNEER. +Never, while I live! + +PUFF. +You observed how she mangled the metre? + +DANGLE. +Yes,—egad, it was the first thing made me suspect she was out of her +senses! + +SNEER. +And pray what becomes of her? + +PUFF. +She is gone to throw herself into the sea, to be sure—and that brings +us at once to the scene of action, and so to my catastrophe—my +sea-fight, I mean. + +SNEER. +What, you bring that in at last? + +PUFF. +Yes, yes—you know my play is called _The Spanish Armada_; otherwise, +egad, I have no occasion for the battle at all.—Now then for my +magnificence!—my battle!—my noise!—and my procession!—You are all +ready? + +UNDER PROMPTER. +[_Within._] Yes, sir. + +PUFF. +Is the Thames dressed? _Enter_ THAMES _with two_ ATTENDANTS. + +_Thames_. +Here I am, sir. + +PUFF. +Very well, indeed!—See, gentlemen, there’s a river for you!—This is +blending a little of the masque with my tragedy—a new fancy, you +know—and very useful in my case; for as there must be a procession, I +suppose Thames, and all his tributary rivers, to compliment Britannia +with a fête in honour of the victory. + +SNEER. +But pray, who are these gentlemen in green with him? + +PUFF. +Those?—those are his banks. + +SNEER. +His banks? + +PUFF. +Yes, one crowned with alders, and the other with a villa!—you take the +allusions?—But hey! what the plague!—you have got both your banks on +one side.—Here, sir, come round.—Ever while you live, Thames, go +between your banks.—[_Bell rings._] There; so! now for’t!—Stand aside, +my dear friends!—Away, Thames! [_Exit_ THAMES _between his banks._] +[_Flourish of drums, trumpets, cannon, &c., &c. Scene changes to the +sea—the fleets engage—the music plays—Britons strike home.—Spanish +fleet destroyed by fire-ships, &c.—English fleet advances—music plays, +Rule Britannia.—The procession of all the English rivers, and their +tributaries, with their emblems, &c., begins with Handel’s water music, +ends with a chorus to the march in Judas’ Maccabaeus.—During this +scene,_ PUFF _directs and applauds everything—then_ + +PUFF. +Well, pretty well—but not quite perfect. So, ladies and gentlemen, if +you please, we’ll rehearse this piece again tomorrow. [_Curtain +drops._] + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Trip to Scarborough and The Critic, +by Richard Brinsley Sheridan + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A TRIP TO SCARBOROUGH AND THE CRITIC *** + +***** This file should be named 7108-0.txt or 7108-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/7/1/0/7108/ + +Produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: Scarborough and the Critic + +Author: Sheridan + +Release Date: December, 2004 [EBook #7108] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on March 10, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-Latin-1 + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SCARBOROUGH AND THE CRITIC *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + +A TRIP TO SCARBOROUGH + +_A COMEDY_ + +DRAMATIS PERSONÆ + +AS ORIGINALLY ACTED AT DRURY LANE THEATRE IN 1777 + + LORD FOPPINGTON _Mr. Dodd._ + SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY _Mr. Moody._ + COLONEL TOWNLY _Mr. Brereton._ + LOVELESS _Mr. Smith._ + TOM FASHION _Mr. J. Palmer._ + LA VAROLE _Mr. Burton._ + LORY _Mr. Baddeley._ + PROBE _Mr. Parsons._ + MENDLEGS _Mr. Norris._ + JEWELLER _Mr. Lamash_ + SHOEMAKER _Mr. Carpenter._ + TAILOR _Mr. Parker._ + AMANDA _Mrs. Robinson._ + BERINTHIA _Miss Farren._ + MISS HOYDEN _Mrs. Abington._ + MRS. COUPLER _Mrs. Booth._ + NURSE _Mrs. Bradshaw._ + +Sempstress, Postilion, Maid, _and_ Servants. + +SCENE--SCARBOROUGH AND ITS NEIGHBOURHOOD. + + +PROLOGUE +SPOKEN BY MR. KING + + What various transformations we remark, + From east Whitechapel to the west Hyde Park! + Men, women, children, houses, signs, and fashions, + State, stage, trade, taste, the humours and the passions; + The Exchange, 'Change Alley, wheresoe'er you're ranging, + Court, city, country, all are changed or changing + The streets, some time ago, were paved with stones, + Which, aided by a hackney-coach, half broke your bones. + The purest lovers then indulged in bliss; + They ran great hazard if they stole a kiss. + One chaste salute!--the damsel cried--Oh, fie! + As they approach'd--slap went the coach awry-- + Poor Sylvia got a bump, and Damon a black eye. + + But now weak nerves in hackney-coaches roam, + And the cramm'd glutton snores, unjolted, home; + Of former times, that polish'd thing a beau, + Is metamorphosed now from top to toe; + Then the full flaxen wig, spread o'er the shoulders, + Conceal'd the shallow head from the beholders. + But now the whole's reversed--each fop appears, + Cropp'd and trimm'd up, exposing head and ears: + The buckle then its modest limits knew, + Now, like the ocean, dreadful to the view, + Hath broke its bounds, and swallowed up the shoe: + The wearer's foot like his once fine estate, + Is almost lost, the encumbrance is so great. + Ladies may smile--are they not in the plot? + The bounds of nature have not they forgot? + Were they design'd to be, when put together, + Made up, like shuttlecocks, of cork and feather? + Their pale-faced grandmammas appeared with grace + When dawning blushes rose upon the face; + No blushes now their once-loved station seek; + The foe is in possession of the cheek! + No heads of old, too high in feather'd state, + Hinder'd the fair to pass the lowest gate; + A church to enter now, they must be bent, + If ever they should try the experiment. + As change thus circulates throughout the nation, + Some plays may justly call for alteration; + At least to draw some slender covering o'er, + That _graceless wit_ + [Footnote: "And _Van_ wants grace, who never wanted wit." +--POPE.] + which was too bare before: + Those writers well and wisely use their pens, + Who turn our wantons into Magdalens; + And howsoever wicked wits revile 'em, + We hope to find in you their stage asylum. + + * * * * * + + + + +ACT I. + +SCENE I.--_The Hall of an Inn_. +_Enter TOM FASHION and LORY, POSTILION following with a +portmanteau_. +_Fash_. Lory, pay the postboy, and take the portmanteau. +_Lory. [Aside to TOM FASHION_.] Faith, sir, we had better +let the postboy take the portmanteau and pay himself. +_Fash. [Aside to LORY_.] Why, sure, there's something left +in it! +_Lory_. Not a rag, upon my honour, sir! We eat the last of +your wardrobe at New Malton--and, if we had had twenty miles +further to go, our next meal must have been of the cloak-bag. +_Fash_. Why, 'sdeath, it appears full! +_Lory_. Yes, sir--I made bold to stuff it with hay, to save +appearances, and look like baggage. +_Fash. [Aside_.] What the devil shall I do?--[_Aloud_.] +Hark'ee, boy, what's the chaise? +_Post_. Thirteen shillings, please your honour. +_Fash_. Can you give me change for a guinea? +_Post_. Oh, yes, sir. +_Lory. [Aside_.] So, what will he do now?--[_Aloud_.] +Lord, sir, you had better let the boy be paid below. +_Fash_. Why, as you say, Lory, I believe it will be as well. +_Lory_. Yes, yes, I'll tell them to discharge you below, +honest friend. +_Post_. Please your honour, there are the turnpikes too. +_Fash_. Ay, ay, the turnpikes by all means. +_Post_. And I hope your honour will order me something for +myself. +_Fash_. To be sure; bid them give you a crown. +_Lory_. Yes, yes--my master doesn't care what you charge +them--so get along, you-- +_Post_. And there's the ostler, your honour. +_Lory_. Psha! damn the ostler!--would you impose upon the +gentleman's generosity?--[_Pushes him out_.] A rascal, to be +so cursed ready with his change! +_Fash_. Why, faith, Lory, he had nearly posed me. +_Lory_. Well, sir, we are arrived at Scarborough, not worth +a guinea! I hope you'll own yourself a happy man--you have +outlived all your cares. +_Fash_. How so, sir? +_Lory_. Why, you have nothing left to take care of. +_Fash_. Yes, sirrah, I have myself and you to take care of +still. +_Lory_. Sir, if you could prevail with somebody else to do +that for you, I fancy we might both fare the better for it. But +now, sir, for my Lord Foppington, your elder brother. +_Fash_. Damn my eldest brother. +_Lory_. With all my heart; but get him to redeem your +annuity, however. Look you, sir; you must wheedle him, or you +must starve. +_Fash_. Look you, sir; I would neither wheedle him, nor +starve. +_Lory_. Why, what will you do, then? +_Fash_. Cut his throat, or get someone to do it for me. +_Lory_. Gad so, sir, I'm glad to find I was not so well +acquainted with the strength of your conscience as with the +weakness of your purse. +_Fash_. Why, art thou so impenetrable a blockhead as to +believe he'll help me with a farthing? +_Lory_. Not if you treat him _de haut en bas_, as you +used to do. +_Fash_. Why, how wouldst have me treat him? +_Lory_. Like a trout--tickle him. +_Fash_. I can't flatter. +_Lory_. Can you starve? +_Fash_. Yes. +_Lory_. I can't. Good by t'ye, sir. +_Fash_. Stay--thou'lt distract me. But who comes here? My +old friend, Colonel Townly. +_Enter_ COLONEL TOWNLY. +My dear Colonel, I am rejoiced to meet you here. +_Col. Town_. Dear Tom, this is an unexpected pleasure! What, +are you come to Scarborough to be present at your brother's +wedding? +_Lory_. Ah, sir, if it had been his funeral, we should have +come with pleasure. +_Col. Town_. What, honest Lory, are you with your master +still? +_Lory_. Yes, sir; I have been starving with him ever since I +saw your honour last. +_Fash_. Why, Lory is an attached rogue; there's no getting +rid of him. +_Lory_. True, sir, as my master says, there's no seducing me +from his service.--[_Aside_.] Till he's able to pay me my +wages. +_Fash_. Go, go, sir, and take care of the baggage. +_Lory_. Yes, sir, the baggage!--O Lord! [_Takes up the +portmanteau_.] I suppose, sir, I must charge the landlord to +be very particular where he stows this? +_Fash_. Get along, you rascal.--[_Exit_ LORY _with +the portmanteau_.] But, Colonel, are you acquainted with my +proposed sister-in-law? +_Col. Town_. Only by character. Her father, Sir Tunbelly +Clumsy, lives within a quarter of a mile of this place, in a +lonely old house, which nobody comes near. She never goes abroad, +nor sees company at home; to prevent all misfortunes, she has her +breeding within doors; the parson of the parish teaches her to +play upon the dulcimer, the clerk to sing, her nurse to dress, +and her father to dance;--in short, nobody has free admission +there but our old acquaintance, Mother Coupler, who has procured +your brother this match, and is, I believe, a distant relation of +Sir Tunbelly's. +_Fash_. But is her fortune so considerable? +_Col. Town_. Three thousand a year, and a good sum of money, +independent of her father, beside. +_Fash_. 'Sdeath! that my old acquaintance, Dame Coupler, +could not have thought of me, as well as my brother, for such a +prize. +_Col. Town_. Egad, I wouldn't swear that you are too late-- +his lordship, I know, hasn't yet seen the lady--and, I believe, +has quarrelled with his patroness. +_Fash_. My dear Colonel, what an idea have you started! +_Col. Town_. Pursue it, if you can, and I promise you shall +have my assistance; for, besides my natural contempt for his +lordship, I have at present the enmity of a rival towards him. +_Fash_. What, has he been addressing your old flame, the +widow Berinthia? +_Col. Town_. Faith, Tom, I am at present most whimsically +circumstanced. I came here a month ago to meet the lady you +mention; but she failing in her promise, I, partly from pique and +partly from idleness, have been diverting my chagrin by offering +up incense to the beauties of Amanda, our friend Loveless's wife. +_Fash_. I never have seen her, but have heard her spoken of +as a youthful wonder of beauty and prudence. +_Col. Town_. She is so indeed; and, Loveless being too +careless and insensible of the treasure he possesses, my lodging +in the same house has given me a thousand opportunities of making +my assiduities acceptable; so that, in less than a fortnight, I +began to bear my disappointment from the widow with the most +Christian resignation. +_Fash_. And Berinthia has never appeared? +_Col. Town_. Oh, there's the perplexity! for, just as I +began not to care whether I ever saw her again or not, last night +she arrived. +_Fash_. And instantly resumed her empire. +_Col. Town_. No, faith--we met--but, the lady not +condescending to give me any serious reasons for having fooled me +for a month, I left her in a huff. +_Fash_. Well, well, I'll answer for it she'll soon resume +her power, especially as friendship will prevent your pursuing +the other too far.--But my coxcomb of a brother is an admirer of +Amanda's too, is he? +_Col. Town_. Yes, and I believe is most heartily despised by +her. But come with me, and you shall see her and your old friend +Loveless. +Fash. I must pay my respects to his lordship--perhaps you can +direct me to his lodgings. +_Col. Town._ Come with me; I shall pass by it. +_Fash._ I wish you could pay this visit for me, or could +tell me what I should say to him. +_Col. Town._ Say nothing to him--apply yourself to his bag, +his sword, his feather, his snuff-box; and when you are well with +them, desire him to lend you a thousand pounds, and I'll engage +you prosper. +_Fash._ 'Sdeath and furies! why was that coxcomb thrust into +the world before me? O Fortune, Fortune, thou art a jilt, by Gad! +[_Exeunt._ + +SCENE II.--LORD FOPPINGTON'S _Dressing-room._ +_Enter_ LORD FOPPINGTON _in his dressing-gown, and_ LA +VAROLE. +_Lord Fop._ [_Aside._] Well,'tis an unspeakable +pleasure to be a man of quality--strike me dumb! Even the boors +of this northern spa have learned the respect due to a title.-- +[_Aloud._] La Varole! +_La Var._ Milor-- +_Lord Fop._ You ha'n't yet been at Muddymoat Hall, to +announce my arrival, have you? +_La Var._ Not yet, milor. +_Lord Fop._ Then you need not go till Saturday-[_Exit_ +LA VAROLE] as I am in no particular haste to view my intended +sposa. I shall sacrifice a day or two more to the pursuit of my +friend Loveless's wife. Amanda is a charming creature--strike me +ugly! and, if I have any discernment in the world, she thinks no +less of my Lord Foppington. +_Re-enter_ LA VAROLE. +_La Var._ Milor, de shoemaker, de tailor, de hosier, de +sempstress, de peru, be all ready, if your lordship please to +dress. +_Lord Fop._ 'Tis well, admit them. +_La Var._ Hey, messieurs, entrez! +_Enter_ TAILOR, SHOEMAKER, SEMPSTRESS, JEWELLER, _and_ +MENDLEGS. +_Lord Fop._ So, gentlemen, I hope you have all taken pains +to show yourselves masters in your professions? +_Tai_. I think I may presume, sir-- +_La Var_. Milor, you clown, you! +_Tai_. My lord--I ask your lordship's--pardon, my lord. I +hope, my lord, your lordship will be pleased to own I have +brought your lordship as accomplished a suit of clothes as ever +peer of England wore, my lord--will your lordship please to view +'em now? +_Lord Fop_. Ay; but let my people dispose the glasses so +that I may see myself before and behind; for I love to see myself +all round. [_Puts on his clothes_.] +_Enter_ TOM FASHION _and_ LORY. _They remain behind, +conversing apart_. +_Fash_. Heyday! what the devil have we here? Sure my +gentleman's grown a favourite at court, he has got so many people +at his levee. +_Lory_. Sir, these people come in order to make him a +favourite at court--they are to establish him with the ladies. +_Fash_. Good Heaven! to what an ebb of taste are women +fallen, that it should be in the power of a laced coat to +recommend a gallant to them? +_Lory_. Sir, tailors and hair-dressers debauch all the +women. +_Fash_. Thou sayest true. But now for my reception. +_Lord Fop_. [_To_ TAILOR.] Death and eternal tortures! +Sir--I say the coat is too wide here by a foot. +_Tai_. My lord, if it had been tighter, 'twould neither have +hooked nor buttoned. +_Lord Fop_. Rat the hooks and buttons, sir! Can any thing be +worse than this? As Gad shall jedge me, it hangs on my shoulders +like a chairman's surtout. +_Tai_. 'Tis not for me to dispute your lordship's fancy. +_Lory_. There, sir, observe what respect does. +_Fash_. Respect! damn him for a coxcomb!--But let's accost +him.--[_Coming forward_.] Brother, I'm your humble servant. +_Lord Fop_. O Lard, Tam! I did not expect you in England. +--Brother, I'm glad to see you.--But what has brought you to +Scarborough, Tam!--[_To the_ TAILOR.] Look you, sir, I +shall never be reconciled to this nauseous wrapping-gown, +therefore pray get me another suit with all possible expedition; +for this is my eternal aversion.--[_Exit_ TAILOR.] Well +but, Tam, you don't tell me what has driven you to Scarborough.-- +Mrs. Calico, are not you of my mind? +_Semp_. Directly, my lord.--I hope your lordship is pleased +with your ruffles? +_Lord Fop_. In love with them, stap my vitals!--Bring my +bill, you shall be paid to-morrow. +_Semp_. I humbly thank your worship. [Exit.] +_Lord Fop_. Hark thee, shoemaker, these shoes aren't ugly, +but they don't fit me. +_Shoe_. My lord, I think they fit you very well. +_Lord Fop_. They hurt me just below the instep. +_Shoe_. [_Feels his foot_.] No, my lord, they don't +hurt you there. +_Lord Fop_. I tell thee they pinch me execrably. +_Shoe_. Why then, my lord, if those shoes pinch you, I'll be +damned. +_Lord Fop_. Why, will thou undertake to persuade me I cannot +feel? +_Shoe_. Your lordship may please to feel what you think fit, +but that shoe does not hurt you--I think I understand my trade. +_Lord Fop_. Now, by all that's good and powerful, thou art +an incomprehensive coxcomb!--but thou makest good shoes, and so +I'll bear with thee. +_Shoe_. My lord, I have worked for half the people of +quality in this town these twenty years, and 'tis very hard I +shouldn't know when a shoe hurts, and when it don't. +_Lord Fop_. Well, pr'ythee be gone about thy business.-- +[_Exit_ SHOEMAKER.] Mr. Mendlegs, a word with you.--The +calves of these stockings are thickened a little too much; they +make my legs look like a porter's. +_Mend_. My lord, methinks they look mighty well. +_Lord Fop_. Ay, but you are not so good a judge of those +things as I am--I have studied them all my life--therefore pray +let the next be the thickness of a crown-piece less. +_Mend_. Indeed, my lord, they are the same kind I had the +honour to furnish your lordship with in town. +_Lord Fop_. Very possibly, Mr. Mendlegs; but that was in the +beginning of the winter, and you should always remember, Mr. +Hosier, that if you make a nobleman's spring legs as robust as +his autumnal calves, you commit a monstrous impropriety, and make +no allowance Tor the fatigues of the winter. [_Exit--_ +MENDLEGS.] +_Jewel_. I hope, my lord, these buckles have had the +unspeakable satisfaction of being honoured with your lordship's +approbation? +_Lord Fop_. Why, they are of a pretty fancy; but don't you +think them rather of the smallest? +_Jewel_. My lord, they could not well be larger, to keep on +your lordship's shoe. +_Lord Fop_. My good sir, you forget that these matters are +not as they used to be; formerly, indeed, the buckle was a sort +of machine, intended to keep on the shoe; but the case is now +quite reversed, and the shoe is of no earthly use, but to keep on +the buckle.--Now give me my watches [SERVANT _fetches the +watches_,] my chapeau, [SERVANT _brings a dress hat_,] my +handkerchief, [SERVANT _pours some scented liquor on a +handkerchief and brings it_,] my snuff-box [SERVANT _brings +snuff-box_.] There, now the business of the morning is pretty +well over. [_Exit_ JEWELLER.] +_Fash_. [_Aside to_ LORY.] Well, Lory, what dost think +on't?--a very friendly reception from a brother, after three +years' absence! +_Lory_. [_Aside to_ TOM FASHION.] Why, sir, 'tis your +own fault--here you have stood ever since you came in, and have +not commended any one thing that belongs to him. [SERVANTS _all +go off._] +_Fash_. [_Aside to_ LORY.] Nor ever shall, while they +belong to a coxcomb.--[_To_ LORD FOPPINGTON.] Now your +people of business are gone, brother, I hope I may obtain a +quarter of an hour's audience of you? +_Lord Fop_. Faith, Tam, I must beg you'll excuse me at this +time, for I have an engagement which I would not break for the +salvation of mankind.--Hey!--there!--is my carriage at the door? +--You'll excuse me, brother. [_Going_.] +_Fash_. Shall you be back to dinner? +_Lord Fop_. As Gad shall jedge me, I can't tell; for it is +passible I may dine with some friends at Donner's. +_Fash_. Shall I meet you there? For I must needs talk with +you. +_Lord Fop_. That I'm afraid mayn't be quite so praper; for +those I commonly eat with are people of nice conversation; and +you know, Tam, your education has been a little at large.--But +there are other ordinaries in town--very good beef ordinaries--I +suppose, Tam, you can eat beef?--However, dear Tam, I'm glad to +see thee in England, stap my vitals! +[_Exit_, LA VAROLE _following_.] +_Fash_. Hell and furies! is this to be borne? +_Lory_. Faith, sir, I could almost have given him a knock o' +the pate myself. +_Fash_. 'Tis enough; I will now show you the excess of my +passion, by being very calm.--Come, Lory, lay your loggerhead to +mine, and, in cold blood, let us contrive his destruction. +_Lory_. Here comes a head, sir, would contrive it better +than both our loggerheads, if she would but join in the +confederacy. +_Fash_. By this light, Madam Coupler! she seems dissatisfied +at something: let us observe her. +_Enter_ MRS. COUPLER. +_Mrs. Coup_. So! I am likely to be well rewarded for my +services, truly; my suspicions, I find, were but too just.-- +What! refuse to advance me a petty sum, when I am upon the point +of making him master of a galleon! but let him look to the +consequences; an ungrateful, narrow-minded coxcomb. +_Fash_. So he is, upon my soul, old lady; it must be my +brother you speak of. +_Mrs. Coup_. Ha! stripling, how came you here? What, hast +spent all, eh? And art thou come to dun his lordship for +assistance? +_Fash_. No, I want somebody's assistance to cut his +lordship's throat, without the risk of being hanged for him. +_Mrs. Coup_. Egad, sirrah, I could help thee to do him +almost as good a turn, without the danger of being burned in the +hand for't. +_Fash_. How--how, old Mischief? +_Mrs. Coup_. Why, you must know I have done you the kindness +to make up a match for your brother. +_Fash_. I am very much beholden to you, truly! +_Mrs. Coup_. You may be before the wedding-day, yet: the +lady is a great heiress, the match is concluded, the writings are +drawn, and his lordship is come hither to put the finishing hand +to the business. +_Fash_. I understand as much. +_Mrs. Coup_. Now, you must know, stripling, your brother's a +knave. +_Fash_. Good. +_Mrs. Coup_. He has given me a bond of a thousand pounds for +helping him to this fortune, and has promised me as much more, in +ready money, upon the day of the marriage; which, I understand by +a friend, he never designs to pay me; and his just now refusing +to pay me a part is a proof of it. If, therefore, you will be a +generous young rogue, and secure me five thousand pounds, I'll +help you to the lady. +_Fash_. And how the devil wilt thou do that? +_Mrs. Coup_. Without the devil's aid, I warrant thee. Thy +brother's face not one of the family ever saw; the whole business +has been managed by me, and all his letters go through my hands. +Sir Tunbelly Clumsy, my relation--for that's the old gentleman's +name--is apprised of his lordship's being down here, and expects +him to-morrow to receive his daughter's hand; but the peer, I +find, means to bait here a few days longer, to recover the +fatigue of his journey, I suppose. Now you shall go to Muddymoat +Hall in his place.--I'll give you a letter of introduction: and +if you don't marry the girl before sunset, you deserve to be +hanged before morning. +_Fash_. Agreed! agreed! and for thy reward-- +_Mrs. Coup_. Well, well;--though I warrant thou hast not a +farthing of money in thy pocket now--no--one may see it in thy +face. +_Fash_. Not a sous, by Jupiter! +_Mrs. Coup_. Must I advance, then? Well, be at my lodgings, +next door, this evening, and I'll see what may be done--we'll +sign and seal, and when I have given thee some further +instructions, thou shalt hoist sail and be one. +[_Exit_.] +_Fash_. So, Lory, Fortune, thou seest, at last takes care of +merit! we are in a fair way to be great people. +_Lory_. Ay, sir, if the devil don't step between the cup and +the lip, as he used to do. +_Fash_. Why, faith, he has played me many a damned trick to +spoil my fortune; and, egad, I am almost afraid he's at work +about it again now; but if I should tell thee how, thou'dst +wonder at me. +_Lory_. Indeed, sir, I should not. +_Fash_. How dost know? +_Lory_. Because, sir, I have wondered at you so often, I can +wonder at you no more. +_Fash_. No! what wouldst thou say, if a qualm of conscience +should spoil my design? +_Lory_. I would eat my words, and wonder more than ever. +_Fash_. Why faith, Lory, though I have played many a roguish +trick, this is so full-grown a cheat, I find I must take pains to +come up to't--I have scruples. +_Lory_. They are strong symptoms of death. If you find they +increase, sir, pray make your will. +_Fash_. No, my conscience shan't starve me neither: but thus +far I'll listen to it. Before I execute this project, I'll try my +brother to the bottom. If he has yet so much humanity about him +as to assist me--though with a moderate aid--I'll drop my project +at his feet, and show him how I can do for him much more than +what I'd ask he'd do for me. This one conclusive trial of him I +resolve to make. + + Succeed or fail, still victory is my lot; + If I subdue his heart,'tis well--if not, + I will subdue my conscience to my plot. + +[_Exeunt_.] + + + + +ACT II. + +SCENE I.--LOVELESS'S _Lodgings_. +_Enter_ LOVELESS _and_ AMANDA. +_Love_. How do you like these lodgings, my dear? For my +part, I am so pleased with them, I shall hardly remove whilst we +stay here, if you are satisfied. +_Aman_. I am satisfied with everything that pleases you, +else I had not come to Scarborough at all. +_Love_. Oh, a little of the noise and folly of this place +will sweeten the pleasures of our retreat; we shall find the +charms of our retirement doubled when we return to it. +_Aman_. That pleasing prospect will be my chiefest +entertainment, whilst, much against my will, I engage in those +empty pleasures which 'tis so much the fashion to be fond of. +_Love_. I own most of them are, indeed, but empty; yet there +are delights of which a private life is destitute, which may +divert an honest man, and be a harmless entertainment to a +virtuous woman: good music is one; and truly (with some small +allowance) the plays, I think, may be esteemed another. +_Aman_. Plays, I must confess, have some small charms. What +do you think of that you saw last night? +_Love_. To say truth, I did not mind it much--my attention +was for some time taken off to admire the workmanship of Nature +in the face of a young lady who sat at some distance from me, she +was so exquisitely handsome. +_Aman_. So exquisitely handsome! +_Love_. Why do you repeat my words, my dear? +_Aman_. Because you seemed to speak them with such pleasure, +I thought I might oblige you with their echo. +_Love_. Then you are alarmed, Amanda? +_Aman_. It is my duty to be so when you are in danger. +_Love_. You are too quick in apprehending for me. I viewed +her with a world of admiration, but not one glance of love. +_Aman_. Take heed of trusting to such nice distinctions. But +were your eyes the only things that were inquisitive? Had I been +in your place, my tongue, I fancy, had been curious too. I should +have asked her where she lived--yet still without design--who was +she, pray? +_Love_. Indeed I cannot tell. +_Aman_. You will not tell. +_Love_. Upon my honour, then, I did not ask. +_Aman_. Nor do you know what company was with her? +_Love_. I do not. But why are you so earnest? +_Aman_. I thought I had cause. +_Love_. But you thought wrong, Amanda; for turn the case, +and let it be your story: should you come home and tell me you +had seen a handsome man, should I grow jealous because you had +eyes? +_Aman_. But should I tell you he was exquisitely so, and +that I had gazed on him with admiration, should you not think +'twere possible I might go one step further, and inquire his +name? +_Love_. [_Aside_.] She has reason on her side; I have +talked too much; but I must turn off another way.-- +[_Aloud_.] Will you then make no difference, Amanda, between +the language of our sex and yours? There is a modesty restrains +your tongues, which makes you speak by halves when you commend; +but roving flattery gives a loose to ours, which makes us still +speak double what we think. +_Enter_ SERVANT. +_Ser_. Madam, there is a lady at the door in a chair desires +to know whether your ladyship sees company; her name is +Berinthia. +_Aman_. Oh dear! 'tis a relation I have not seen these five +years; pray her to walk in.--[_Exit_ SERVANT.] Here's +another beauty for you; she was, when I saw her last, reckoned +extremely handsome. +_Love_. Don't be jealous now; for I shall gaze upon her too. +_Enter_ BERINTHIA. +Ha! by heavens, the very woman! [_Aside_.] +_Ber_. [_Salutes_ AMANDA.] Dear Amanda, I did not +expect to meet you in Scarborough. +_Aman_. Sweet cousin, I'm overjoyed to see you.--Mr. +Loveless, here's a relation and a friend of mine, I desire you'll +be better acquainted with. +_Love_. [_Salutes_ BERINTHIA.] If my wife never desires +a harder thing, madam, her request will be easily granted. +_Re-enter_ SERVANT. +_Ser_. Sir, my Lord Foppington presents his humble service +to you, and desires to know how you do. He's at the next door; +and, if it be not inconvenient to you, he'll come and wait upon +you. +_Love_. Give my compliments to his lordship, and I shall be +glad to see him.--[_Exit_ SERVANT.] If you are not +acquainted with his lordship, madam, you will be entertained with +his character. +_Aman_. Now it moves my pity more than my mirth to see a man +whom nature has made no fool be so very industrious to pass for +an ass. +_Love_. No, there you are wrong, Amanda; you should never +bestow your pity upon those who take pains for your contempt: +pity those whom nature abuses, never those who abuse nature. +_Enter_ LORD FOPPINGTON. +_Lord Fop_. Dear Loveless, I am your most humble servant. +_Love_. My lord, I'm yours. +_Lord Fop_. Madam, your ladyship's very obedient slave. +_Love_. My lord, this lady is a relation of my wife's. +_Lord Fop_. [_Salutes_ BERINTHIA.] The beautifullest +race of people upon earth, rat me! Dear Loveless, I am overjoyed +that you think of continuing here: I am, stap my vitals!-- +[_To_ AMANDA.] For Gad's sake, madam, how has your ladyship +been able to subsist thus long, under the fatigue of a country +life? +_Aman_. My life has been very far from that, my lord; it has +been a very quiet one. +_Lord Fop_. Why, that's the fatigue I speak of, madam; for +'tis impossible to be quiet without thinking: now thinking is to +me the greatest fatigue in the world. +_Aman_. Does not your lordship love reading, then? +_Lord Fop_. Oh, passionately, madam; but I never think of +what I read. For example, madam, my life is a perpetual stream of +pleasure, that glides through with such a variety of +entertainments, I believe the wisest of our ancestors never had +the least conception of any of 'em. I rise, madam, when in town, +about twelve o'clock. I don't rise sooner, because it is the +worst thing in the world for the complexion: not that I pretend +to be a beau; but a man must endeavour to look decent, lest he +makes so odious a figure in the side-bax, the ladies should be +compelled to turn their eyes upon the play. So at twelve o'clock, +I say, I rise. Naw, if I find it is a good day, I resalve to take +the exercise of riding; so drink my chocolate, and draw on my +boots by two. On my return, I dress; and, after dinner, lounge +perhaps to the opera. +_Ber_. Your lordship, I suppose, is fond of music? +_Lord Fop_. Oh, passionately, on Tuesdays and Saturdays; for +then there is always the best company, and one is not expected to +undergo the fatigue of listening. +_Aman_. Does your lordship think that the case at the opera? +_Lord Fop_. Most certainly, madam. There is my Lady Tattle, +my Lady Prate, my Lady Titter, my Lady Sneer, my Lady Giggle, and +my Lady Grin--these have boxes in the front, and while any +favourite air is singing, are the prettiest company in the +waurld, stap my vitals!--Mayn't we hope for the honour to see you +added to our society, madam? +_Aman_. Alas! my lord, I am the worst company in the world +at a concert, I'm so apt to attend to the music. +_Lord Fop_. Why, madam, that is very pardonable in the +country or at church, but a monstrous inattention in a polite +assembly. But I am afraid I tire the company? +_Love_. Not at all. Pray go on. +_Lord Fop_. Why then, ladies, there only remains to add, +that I generally conclude the evening at one or other of the +clubs; nat that I ever play deep; indeed I have been for some +time tied up from losing above five thousand paunds at a sitting. +_Love_. But isn't your lordship sometimes obliged to attend +the weighty affairs of the nation? +_Lord Fop_. Sir, as to weighty affairs, I leave them to +weighty heads; I never intend mine shall be a burden to my body. +_Ber._ Nay, my lord, but you are a pillar of the state. +_Lord Fop_. An ornamental pillar, madam; for sooner than +undergo any part of the fatigue, rat me, but the whole building +should fall plump to the ground! +_Aman_. But, my lord, a fine gentleman spends a great deal +of his time in his intrigues; you have given us no account of +them yet. +_Lord Fop._ [_Aside_.] So! she would inquire into my +amours--that's jealousy, poor soul!--I see she's in love with +me.--[_Aloud_.] O Lord, madam, I had like to have forgot a +secret I must need tell your ladyship.--Ned, you must not be so +jealous now as to listen. +_Love._ [_Leading_ BERINTHIA _up the stage_.] Not +I, my lord; I am too fashionable a husband to pry into the +secrets of my wife. +_Lord Fop._ [_Aside to_ AMANDA _squeezing her +hand_.] I am in love with you to desperation, strike me +speechless! +_Aman._ [_Strikes him on the ear_.] Then thus I return +your passion.--An impudent fool! +_Lord Fop_. God's curse, madam, I am a peer of the realm! +_Love_. [_Hastily returning_.] Hey! what the devil, do +you affront my wife, sir? Nay, then-- +[_Draws. They fight._] +_Aman_. What has my folly done?--Help! murder! help! Part +them for Heaven's sake. +_Lord Fop_. [_Falls back and leans on his sword._] Ah! +quite through the body, stap my vitals! +_Enter_ SERVANTS. +_Love_. [_Runs to_ LORD FOPPINGTON.] I hope I ha'nt +killed the fool, however. Bear him up.--Call a surgeon there. +_Lord Fop_. Ay, pray make haste. [_Exit_ SERVANT. +_Love_. This mischief you may thank yourself for. +_Lord Fop_. I may say so; love's the devil indeed, Ned. +_Re-enter_ SERVANT, _with_ PROBE. +_Ser_. Here's Mr. Probe, sir, was just going by the door. +_Lord Fop_. He's the welcomest man alive. +_Probe_. Stand by, stand by, stand by; pray, gentlemen, +stand by. Lord have mercy upon us, did you never see a man run +through the body before?--Pray stand by. +_Lord Fop_. Ah, Mr. Probe, I'm a dead man. +_Probe_. A dead man, and I by! I should laugh to see that, +egad. +_Love_. Pr'ythee don't stand prating, but look upon his +wound. +_Probe_. Why, what if I don't look upon his wound this hour, +sir? +_Love_. Why, then he'll bleed to death, sir. +_Probe_. Why, then I'll fetch him to life again, sir. +_Love_. 'Slife! he's run through the body, I tell thee. +_Probe_. I wish he was run through the heart, and I should +get the more credit by his cure. Now I hope you are satisfied? +Come, now let me come at him--now let me come at him.-- +[_Viewing his wound._] Oops I what a gash is here! why, sir, +a man may drive a coach and six horses into your body. +_Lord Fop_. Oh! +_Probe_. Why, what the devil have you run the gentleman +through with--a scythe?--[_Aside_.] A little scratch between +the skin and the ribs, that's all. +_Love_. Let me see his wound. +_Probe_. Then you shall dress it, sir; for if anybody looks +upon it I won't. +_Love_. Why, thou art the veriest coxcomb I ever saw! +_Probe_. Sir, I am not master of my trade for nothing. +_Lord Fop_. Surgeon! +_Probe_. Sir. +_Lord Fop_. Are there any hopes? +_Probe_. Hopes! I can't tell. What are you willing to give +for a cure? _Lord Fop_. Five hundred paunds with pleasure. +_Probe_. Why then perhaps there may be hopes; but we must +avoid further delay.--Here, help the gentleman into a chair, and +carry him to my house presently--that's the properest place-- +[_Aside_.] to bubble him out of his money.--[_Aloud_.] +Come, a chair--a chair quickly--there, in with him. [SERVANTS +_put_ LORD FOPPINGTON _into a chair_.] +_Lord Fop_. Dear Loveless, adieu; if I die, I forgive thee; +and if I live, I hope thou wilt do as much by me. I am sorry you +and I should quarrel, but I hope here's an end on't; for if you +are satisfied, I am. +_Love_. I shall hardly think it worth my prosecuting any +further, so you may be at rest, sir. +_Lord Fop_. Thou art a generous fellow, strike me dumb! +--[_Aside_.] But thou hast an impertinent wife, stap my +vitals! +_Probe_. So--carry him off!--carry him off!--We shall have +him into a fever by-and-by.--Carry him off! [_Exit with_ +LORD FOPPINGTON.] +Enter COLONEL TOWNLY. +_Col. Town_. So, so, I am glad to find you all alive.--I met +a wounded peer carrying off. For heaven's sake what was the +matter? +_Love_. Oh, a trifle! he would have made love to my wife +before my face, so she obliged him with a box o' the ear, and I +ran him through the body, that was all. +_Col. Town_. Bagatelle on all sides. But pray, madam, how +long has this noble lord been an humble servant of yours? +_Aman_. This is the first I have heard on't--so I suppose, +'tis his quality more than his love has brought him into this +adventure. He thinks his title an authentic passport to every +woman's heart below the degree of a peeress. +_Col. Town_. He's coxcomb enough to think anything: but I +would not have you brought into trouble for him. I hope there's +no danger of his life? +_Love_. None at all. He's fallen into the hands of a roguish +surgeon, who, I perceive, designs to frighten a little money out +of him: but I saw his wound--'tis nothing: he may go to the ball +to-night if he pleases. +_Col. Town_. I am glad you have corrected him without +further mischief, or you might have deprived me of the pleasure +of executing a plot against his lordship, which I have been +contriving with an old acquaintance of yours. +_Love_. Explain. +_Col. Town_. His brother, Tom Fashion, is come down here, +and we have it in contemplation to save him the trouble of his +intended wedding: but we want your assistance. Tom would have +called but he is preparing for his enterprise, so I promised to +bring you to him--so, sir, if these ladies can spare you-- +_Love_. I'll go with you with all my heart.--[_Aside_.] +Though I could wish, methinks, to stay and gaze a little longer +on that creature. Good gods! how engaging she is!--but what have +I to do with beauty? I have already had my portion, and must not +covet more. +_Aman_. Mr. Loveless, pray one word with you before you go. +[_Exit_ COLONEL TOWNLY. +_Love_. What would my dear? +_Aman_. Only a woman's foolish question: how do you like my +cousin here? +_Love_. Jealous already, Amanda? +_Aman_. Not at all: I ask you for another reason. +_Love_. [_Aside_.] Whate'er her reason be, I must not +tell her true.--[_Aloud_.] Why, I confess, she's handsome: +but you must not think I slight your kinswoman, if I own to you, +of all the women who may claim that character, she is the last +that would triumph in my heart. +_Aman_. I'm satisfied. +_Love_. Now tell me why you asked? +_Aman_. At night I will--adieu! +_Love_. I'm yours. [_Kisses her and exit_.] +_Aman_. I'm glad to find he does not like her, for I +have a great mind to persuade her to come and live with me. +[_Aside_.] +_Ber_. So! I find my colonel continues in his airs; there +must be something more at the bottom of this than the provocation +he pretends from me. [_Aside_.] +_Aman_. For Heaven's sake, Berinthia, tell me what way I +shall take to persuade you to come and live with me. +_Ber_. Why, one way in the world there is, and but one. +_Aman_. And pray what is that? +_Ber_. It is to assure me--I shall be very welcome. +_Aman_. If that be all, you shall e'en sleep here to-night. +_Ber_. To-night. +_Aman_. Yes, to-night. +_Ber_. Why, the people where I lodge will think me mad. +_Aman_. Let 'em think what they please. +_Ber_. Say you so, Amanda? Why, then, they shall think what +they please: for I'm a young widow, and I care not what anybody +thinks.--Ah, Amanda, it's a delicious thing to be a young widow! +_Aman_. You'll hardly make me think so. +_Ber_. Poh! because you are in love with your husband. +_Aman_. Pray, 'tis with a world of innocence I would inquire +whether you think those we call women of reputation do really +escape all other men as they do those shadows of beaux. +_Ber_. Oh no, Amanda; there are a sort of men make dreadful +work amongst 'em, men that may be called the beau's antipathy, +for they agree in nothing but walking upon two legs. These have +brains, the beau has none. These are in love with their mistress, +the beau with himself. They take care of their reputation, the +beau is industrious to destroy it. They are decent, he's a fop; +in short, they are men, he's an ass. +_Aman_. If this be their character, I fancy we had here, +e'en now, a pattern of 'em both. +_Ber_. His lordship and Colonel Townly? +_Aman_. The same. +_Ber_. As for the lord, he is eminently so; and for the +other, I can assure you there's not a man in town who has a +better interest with the women that are worth having an interest +with. +_Aman_. He answers the opinion I had ever of him. [_Takes +her hand_.] I must acquaint you with a secret--'tis not that +fool alone has talked to me of love; Townly has been tampering +too. +_Ber_. [_Aside_.] So, so! here the mystery comes out!-- +[_Aloud_.] Colonel Townly! impossible, my dear! +_Aman_. 'Tis true indeed; though he has done it in vain; nor +do I think that all the merit of mankind combined could shake the +tender love I bear my husband; yet I will own to you, Berinthia, +I did not start at his addresses, as when they came from one whom +I contemned. +_Ber. [Aside_.] Oh, this is better and better!-- +[_Aloud_.] Well said, Innocence! and you really think, my +dear, that nothing could abate your constancy and attachment to +your husband? +_Aman_. Nothing, I am convinced. +_Ber_. What, if you found he loved another woman better? +_Aman_. Well! +_Ber_. Well!--why, were I that thing they call a slighted +wife, somebody should run the risk of being that thing they call--a +husband. Don't I talk madly? +_Aman_. Madly indeed! +_Ber_. Yet I'm very innocent. +_Aman_. That I dare swear you are. I know how to make +allowances for your humour: but you resolve then never to marry +again? +_Ber_. Oh no! I resolve I will. +_Aman_. How so? +_Ber_. That I never may. +_Aman_. You banter me. +_Ber_. Indeed I don't: but I consider I'm a woman, and form +my resolutions accordingly. +_Aman_. Well, my opinion is, form what resolutions you will, +matrimony will be the end on't. +_Ber_. I doubt it--but a--Heavens! I have business at home, +and am half an hour too late. +_Aman_. As you are to return with me, I'll just give some +orders, and walk with you. +_Ber_. Well, make haste, and we'll finish this subject as we +go--[_Exit_ AMANDA.]. Ah, poor Amanda! you have led a +country life. Well, this discovery is lucky! Base Townly! at once +false to me and treacherous to his friend!--And my innocent and +demure cousin too! I have it in my power to be revenged on her, +however. Her husband, if I have any skill in countenance, would +be as happy in my smiles as Townly can hope to be in hers. I'll +make the experiment, come what will on't. The woman who can +forgive the being robbed of a favoured lover, must be either an +idiot or a wanton. [_Exit_.] + + + + +ACT III. + +SCENE I.--LORD FOPPINGTON's _Lodgings. +Enter_ LORD FOPPINGTON, _and_ LA VAROLE. +_Lord Fop_. Hey, fellow, let thy vis-a-vis come to the door. +_La Var_. Will your lordship venture so soon to expose +yourself to the weather? +_Lord Fop_. Sir, I will venture as soon as I can expose +myself to the ladies. +_La Var_. I wish your lordship would please to keep house a +little longer; I'm afraid your honour does not well consider your +wound. +_Lord Fop_. My wound!--I would not be in eclipse another +day, though I had as many wounds in my body as I have had in my +heart. So mind, Varole, let these cards be left as directed; for +this evening I shall wait on my future father-in-law, Sir +Tunbelly, and I mean to commence my devoirs to the lady, by +giving an entertainment at her father's expense; and hark thee, +tell Mr. Loveless I request he and his company will honour me +with their presence, or I shall think we are not friends. +_La Var_. I will be sure, milor. [_Exit_.] +_Enter_ TOM FASHION. +_Fash_. Brother, your servant; how do you find yourself to-day? +_Lord Fop_. So well that I have ardered my coach to the +door--so there's no danger of death this baut, Tam. +_Fash_. I'm very glad of it. +_Lord Fop_. [_Aside_.] That I believe a lie.-- +[_Aloud_.] Pr'ythee, Tam, tell me one thing--did not your +heart cut a caper up to your mauth, when you heard I was run +through the bady? +_Fash_. Why do you think it should? +_Lord Fop_. Because I remember mine did so when I heard my +uncle was shot through the head. +_Fash_. It, then, did very ill. +_Lord Fop_. Pr'ythee, why so? +_Fash_. Because he used you very well. +_Lord Fop_. Well!--Naw, strike me dumb! he starved me; he +has let me want a thausand women for want of a thausand paund. +_Fash_. Then he hindered you from making a great many ill +bargains; for I think no woman worth money that will take money. +_Lord Fop_. If I was a younger brother I should think so +too. +_Fash_. Then you are seldom much in love? +_Lord Fop_. Never, stap my vitals! +_Fash_. Why, then, did you make all this bustle about +Amanda? +_Lord Fop_. Because she's a woman of insolent virtue, and I +thought myself piqued in honour to debauch her. +_Fash_. Very well.--[_Aside_.] Here's a rare fellow for +you, to have the spending of ten thousand pounds a year! But now +for my business with him.--[_Aloud_.] Brother, though I know +to talk of any business (especially of money) is a theme not +quite so entertaining to you as that of the ladies, my +necessities are such, I hope you'll have patience to hear me. +_Lord Fop_. The greatness of your necessities, Tam, is the +worst argument in the waurld for your being patiently heard. I do +believe you are going to make a very good speech, but, strike me +dumb! it has the worst beginning of any speech I have heard this +twelvemonth. +_Fash_. I'm sorry you think so. +_Lord Fop_. I do believe thou art: but, come, let's know the +affair quickly. +_Fash_. Why, then, my case, in a word, is this: the +necessary expenses of my travels have so much exceeded the +wretched income of my annuity, that I have been forced to +mortgage it for five hundred pounds, which is spent. So unless +you are so kind as to assist me in redeeming it, I know no remedy +but to take a purse. +_Lord Fop_. Why, faith, Tam, to give you my sense of the +thing, I do think taking a purse the best remedy in the waurld; +for if you succeed, you are relieved that way, if you are taken +[_Drawing his hand round his neck_], you are relieved +t'other. +_Fash_. I'm glad to see you are in so pleasant a humour; I +hope I shall find the effects on't. +_Lord Fop_. Why, do you then really think it a reasonable +thing, that I should give you five hundred paunds? +_Fash_. I do not ask it as a due, brother; I am willing to +receive it as a favour. +_Lord Fop_. Then thou art willing to receive it anyhow, +strike me speechless! But these are damned times to give money +in; taxes are so great, repairs so exorbitant, tenants such +rogues, and bouquets so dear, that the devil take me I'm reduced +to that extremity in my cash, I have been forced to retrench in +that one article of sweet pawder, till I have brought it down to +five guineas a maunth--now judge, Tam, whether I can spare you +five paunds. +_Fash_. If you can't I must starve, that's all.-- +[_Aside_.] Damn him! +_Lord Fop_. All I can say is, you should have been a better +husband. +_Fash_. Ouns! if you can't live upon ten thousand a year, +how do you think I should do't upon two hundred? +_Lord Fop_. Don't be in a passion, Tam, for passion is the +most unbecoming thing in the waurld--to the face. Look you, I +don't love to say anything to you to make you melancholy, but +upon this occasion I must take leave to put you in mind that a +running horse does require more attendance than a coach-horse. +Nature has made some difference twixt you and me. +_Fash_. Yes--she has made you older.--[_Aside_.] Plague +take her. +_Lord Fop_. That is not all, Tam. +_Fash_. Why, what is there else? +_Lord Fop. [_Looks first on himself and then on his +brother_.] Ask the ladies. +_Fash_. Why, thou essence-bottle, thou musk-cat! dost thou +then think thou hast any advantage over me but what Fortune has +given thee? +_Lord Fop_. I do, stap my vitals! +_Fash_. Now, by all that's great and powerful, thou art the +prince of coxcombs! +_Lord Fop_. Sir, I am proud at being at the head of so +prevailing a party. +_Fash_. Will nothing provoke thee?--Draw, coward! +_Lord Fop_. Look you, Tam, you know I have always taken you +for a mighty dull fellow, and here is one of the foolishest plats +broke out that I have seen a lang time. Your poverty makes life +so burdensome to you, you would provoke me to a quarrel, in hopes +either to slip through my lungs into my estate, or to get +yourself run through the guts, to put an end to your pain. But I +will disappoint you in both your designs; far, with the temper of +a philasapher, and the discretion of a statesman--I shall leave +the room with my sword in the scabbard. [_Exit_.] +_Fash_. So! farewell, brother; and now, conscience, I defy +thee. Lory! +_Enter_ LORY. +_Lory_. Sir! +_Fash_. Here's rare news, Lory; his lordship has given me a +pill has purged off all my scruples. +_Lory_. Then my heart's at ease again: for I have been in a +lamentable fright, sir, ever since your conscience had the +impudence to intrude into your company. +_Fash_. Be at peace; it will come there no more: my brother +has given it a wring by the nose, and I have kicked it +downstairs. So run away to the inn, get the chaise ready quickly, +and bring it to Dame Coupler's without a moment's delay. +_Lory_. Then, sir, you are going straight about the fortune? +_Fash_. I am.--Away--fly, Lory! +_Lory_. The happiest day I ever saw. I'm upon the wing +already. Now then I shall get my wages. [_Exeunt_.] + +SCENE II.--_A Garden behind_ LOVELESS'S _Lodgings. +Enter_ LOVELESS _and_ SERVANT. +_Love_. Is my wife within? +_Ser_. No, sir, she has gone out this half-hour. +_Love_. Well, leave me.--[_Exit_ SERVANT.] How +strangely does my mind run on this widow!--Never was my heart so +suddenly seized on before. That my wife should pick out her, of +all womankind, to be her playfellow! But what fate does, let fate +answer for: I sought it not. So! by Heavens! here she comes. +_Enter_ BERINTHIA. +_Ber_. What makes you look so thoughtful, sir? I hope you +are not ill. +_Love_. I was debating, madam, whether I was so or not, and +that was it which made me look so thoughtful. +_Ber_. Is it then so hard a matter to decide? I thought all +people were acquainted with their own bodies, though few people +know their own minds. +_Love_. What if the distemper I suspect be in the mind? +_Ber_. Why then I'll undertake to prescribe you a cure. +_Love_. Alas! you undertake you know not what. +_Ber_. So far at least, then, you allow me to be a +physician. +_Love_. Nay, I'll allow you to be so yet further: for I have +reason to believe, should I put myself into your hands, you would +increase my distemper. +_Ber_. How? +_Love_. Oh, you might betray me to my wife. +_Ber_. And so lose all my practice. +_Love_. Will you then keep my secret? +_Ber_. I will. +_Love_. Well--but swear it. +_Ber_. I swear by woman. +_Love_. Nay, that's swearing by my deity; swear by your own, +and I shall believe you. +_Ber_. Well then, I swear by man! +_Love_. I'm satisfied. Now hear my symptoms, and give me +your advice. The first were these; when I saw you at the play, a +random glance you threw at first alarmed me. I could not turn my +eyes from whence the danger came--I gazed upon you till my heart +began to pant--nay, even now, on your approaching me, my illness +is so increased that if you do not help me I shall, whilst you +look on, consume to ashes. [_Takes her hand.] +_Ber_. O Lord, let me go! 'tis the plague, and we shall be +infected. [_Breaking from him.] +_Love_. Then we'll die together, my charming angel. +_Ber_. O Gad! the devil's in you! Lord, let me go!--here's +somebody coming. +_Re-enter_ SERVANT. +_Ser_. Sir, my lady's come home, and desires to speak with +you. +_Love_. Tell her I'm coming.--[_Exit_ SERVANT.] But +before I go, one glass of nectar to drink her health. [_To_ +BERINTHIA.] +_Ber_. Stand off, or I shall hate you, by Heavens! +_Love_. [_Kissing her_.] In matters of love, a woman's +oath is no more to be minded than a man's. [_Exit.] +Ber_. Um! +_Enter_ COLONEL TOWNLY. +_Col. Town_. [_Aside_.] So? what's here--Berinthia and +Loveless--and in such close conversation!--I cannot now wonder at +her indifference in excusing herself to me!--O rare woman!--Well +then, let Loveless look to his wife, 'twill be but the retort +courteous on both sides.--[_Aloud_.] Your servant, madam; I +need not ask you how you do, you have got so good a colour. +_Ber_. No better than I used to have, I suppose. +_Col. Town_. A little more blood in your cheeks. +_Ber_. I have been walking! +_Col. Town_. Is that all? Pray was it Mr. Loveless went from +here just now? +_Ber_. O yes--he has been walking with me. +_Col. Town_. He has! +_Ber_. Upon my word I think he is a very agreeable man; and +there is certainly something particularly insinuating in his +address. +_Col. Town_. [_Aside_.] So, so! she hasn't even the +modesty to dissemble! [_Aloud_.] Pray, madam, may I, without +impertinence, trouble you with a few serious questions? +_Ber_. As many as you please; but pray let them be as little +serious as possible. +_Col. Town_. Is it not near two years since I have presumed +to address you? +_Ber_. I don't know exactly--but it has been a tedious long +time. +_Col. Town._ Have I not, during that period, had every +reason to believe that my assiduities were far from being +unacceptable? +_Ber._ Why, to do you justice, you have been extremely +troublesome--and I confess I have been more civil to you than you +deserved. +_Col. Town._ Did I not come to this place at your express +desire, and for no purpose but the honour of meeting you?--and +after waiting a month in disappointment, have you condescended to +explain, or in the slightest way apologise for, your conduct? +_Ber._ O heavens! apologise for my conduct!--apologise to +you! O you barbarian! But pray now, my good serious colonel, have +you anything more to add? +_Col. Town._ Nothing, madam, but that after such behaviour I +am less surprised at what I saw just now; it is not very +wonderful that the woman who can trifle with the delicate +addresses of an honourable lover should be found coquetting with +the husband of her friend. +_Ber._ Very true: no more wonderful than it was for this +honourable lover to divert himself in the absence of this +coquette, with endeavouring to seduce his friend's wife! O +colonel, colonel, don't talk of honour or your friend, for +Heaven's sake! +_Col. Town_. [_Aside.]_ 'Sdeath! how came she to +suspect this!--[_Aloud._] Really, madam, I don't understand +you. +_Ber._ Nay, nay, you saw I did not pretend to misunderstand +you.--But here comes the lady; perhaps you would be glad to be +left with her for an explanation. +_Col. Town._ O madam, this recrimination is a poor resource; +and to convince you how much you are mistaken, I beg leave to +decline the happiness you propose me.--Madam, your servant. +_Enter_ AMANDA. COLONEL TOWNLY _whispers_ AMANDA, +_and exit_. +_Ber. [Aside._] He carries it off well, however; upon my +word, very well! How tenderly they part!--[_Aloud_] So, +cousin; I hope you have not been chiding your admirer for being +with me? I assure you we have been talking of you. +_Aman_. Fy, Berinthia!--my admirer! will you never learn to +talk in earnest of anything? +_Ber_. Why this shall be in earnest, if you please; for my +part, I only tell you matter of fact. +_Aman_. I'm sure there's so much jest and earnest in what +you say to me on this subject, I scarce know how to take it. I +have just parted with Mr. Loveless; perhaps it is fancy, but I +think there is an alteration in his manner which alarms me. +_Ber_. And so you are jealous; is that all? +_Aman_. That all! is jealousy, then, nothing? +_Ber_. It should be nothing, if I were in your case. +_Aman_. Why, what would you do? +_Ber_. I'd cure myself. +_Aman_. How? +_Ber_. Care as little for my husband as he did for me. Look +you, Amanda, you may build castles in the air, and fume, and +fret, and grow thin, and lean, and pale, and ugly, if you please; +but I tell you, no man worth having is true to his wife, or ever +was, or ever will be so. +_Aman_. Do you then really think he's false to me? for I did +not suspect him. +_Ber_. Think so? I am sure of it. +_Aman_. You are sure on't? +_Ber_. Positively--he fell in love at the play. +_Aman_. Right--the very same. But who could have told you +this? +_Ber_. Um!--Oh, Townly! I suppose your husband has made him +his confidant. +_Aman_. O base Loveless! And what did Townly say on't? +_Ber. [Aside_.] So, so! why should she ask that?-- +[_Aloud_.] Say! why he abused Loveless extremely, and said +all the tender things of you in the world. +_Aman_. Did he?--Oh! my heart!--I'm very ill--dear +Berinthia, don't leave me a moment. [_Exeunt_.] + +SCENE III.--_Outside of_ SIR TUNRELLY CLUMSY'S _House_. +_Enter_ TOM FASHION _and_ LORY. +_Fash_. So here's our inheritance, Lory, if we can but get +into possession. But methinks the seat of our family looks like +Noah's ark, as if the chief part on't were designed for the fowls +of the air, and the beasts of the field. +_Lory._ Pray, sir, don't let your head run upon the orders +of building here: get but the heiress, let the devil take the +house. +_Fash._ Get but the house, let the devil take the heiress! I +say.--But come, we have no time to squander; knock at the door.-- +[LORY _knocks two or three times at the gate._] What the +devil! have they got no ears in this house?--Knock harder. +_Lory._ Egad, sir, this will prove some enchanted castle; we +shall have the giant come out by-and-by, with his club, and beat +our brains out. [_Knocks again._] +_Fash._ Hush, they come. +_Ser. [Within.]_ Who is there? +_Lory._ Open the door and see: is that your country +breeding? +_Ser._ Ay, but two words to that bargain.--Tummus, is the +blunderbuss primed? +_Fash._ Ouns! give 'em good words, Lory,--or we shall be +shot here a fortune catching. +_Lory._ Egad, sir, I think you're in the right on't.--Ho! +Mr. What-d'ye-call-'um, will you please to let us in? or are we +to be left to grow like willows by your moat side? +SERVANT _appears at the window with a blunderbuss._ +_Ser._ Well naw, what's ya're business? +_Fash._ Nothing, sir, but to wait upon Sir Tunbelly, with +your leave. +_Ser._ To weat upon Sir Tunbelly! why, you'll find that's +just as Sir Tunbelly pleases. +_Fash._ But will you do me the favour, sir, to know whether +Sir Tunbelly pleases or not? +_Ser._ Why, look you, d'ye see, with good words much may be +done. Ralph, go thy ways, and ask Sir Tunbelly if he pleases to +be waited upon--and dost hear, call to nurse, that she may lock +up Miss Hoyden before the gates open. +_Fash._ D'ye hear, that, Lory? +_Enter SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY, with SERVANTS, armed with guns, +clubs, pitchforks, &c_. +_Lory_. Oh! [_Runs behind his master_.] O Lord! O Lord! +Lord! we are both dead men! +_Fash_. Fool! thy fear will, ruin us. [_Aside to +LORY_.] +_Lory_. My fear, sir? 'sdeath, Sir, I fear nothing.-- +[_Aside_.] Would I were well up to the chin in a horse-pond! +_Sir Tun_. Who is it here hath any business with me? +_Fash_. Sir, 'tis I, if your name be Sir Tunbelly Clumsy. +_Sir Tun_. Sir, my name is Sir Tunbelly Clumsy, whether you +have any business with me or not.--So you see I am not ashamed of +my name, nor my face either. +_Fash_. Sir, you have no cause that I know of. +_Sir Tun_. Sir, if you have no cause either, I desire to +know who you are; for, till I know your name, I shan't ask you to +come into my house: and when I do know your name,'tis six to four +I don't ask you then. +_Fash_. Sir, I hope you'll find this letter an authentic +passport. [_Gives him a letter_.] +_Sir Tun_. Cod's my life, from Mrs. Coupler!--I ask your +lordship's pardon ten thousand times.--[_To a SERVANT_.] +Here, run in a-doors quickly; get a Scotch coal fire in the +parlour, set all the Turkey work chairs in their places, get the +brass candlesticks out, and be sure stick the socket full of +laurel--run!--[_Turns to TOM FASHION_.]--My lord, I ask your +lordship's pardon.--[_To SERVANT_.] And, do you hear, run +away to nurse; bid her let Miss Hoyden loose again.--[_Exit +SERVANT_.] I hope your honour will excuse the disorder of my +family. We are not used to receive men of your lordship's great +quality every day. Pray, where are your coaches and servants, my +lord? +_Fash_. Sir, that I might give you and your daughter a proof +how impatient I am to be nearer akin to you, I left my equipage +to follow me, and came away post with only one servant. +_Sir Tun_. Your lordship does me too much honour--it was +exposing your person to too much fatigue and danger, I protest it +was: but my daughter shall endeavour to make you what amends she +can: and, though I say it that should not say it, Hoyden has +charms. +_Fash_. Sir, I am not a stranger to them, though I am to +her; common fame has done her justice. +_Sir Tun_. My lord, I am common fame's very grateful, humble +servant. My lord, my girl's young--Hoyden is young, my lord: but +this I must say for her, what she wants in art she has in +breeding; and what's wanting in her age, is made good in her +constitution.--So pray, my lord, walk in; pray, my lord, walk in. +_Fash_. Sir, I wait upon you. [_Exeunt_.] + +SCENE IV.--_A Room in_ SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY'S _House_. +MISS HOYDEN _discovered alone_. +_Miss Hoyd_. Sure, nobody was ever used as I am! I know well +enough what other girls do, for all they think to make a fool o' +me. It's well I have a husband a-coming, or ecod I'd marry the +baker, I would so. Nobody can knock at the gate, but presently I +must be locked up; and here's the young greyhound can run loose +about the house all the day, so she can.--'Tis very well! +_Nurse_. [_Without opening the door_.] Miss Hoyden! +miss, miss, miss! Miss Hoyden! +_Enter_ NURSE. +_Miss Hoyd_. Well, what do you make such a noise for, eh? +What do you din a body's ears for? Can't one be at quiet for you? +_Nurse_. What do I din your ears for? Here's one come will +din your ears for you. +_Miss Hoyd_. What care I who's come? I care not a fig who +comes, or who goes, so long as I must be locked up like the ale-cellar. +_Nurse_. That, miss, is for fear you should be drank before +you are ripe. +_Miss Hoyd_. Oh, don't trouble your head about that; I'm as +ripe as you, though not so mellow. +_Nurse_. Very well! Now I have a good mind to lock you up +again, and not let you see my lord to-night. +_Miss Hoyd_. My lord: why, is my husband come? +_Nurse_. Yes, marry, is he; and a goodly person too. +_Miss Hoyd_. [_Hugs_ NURSE.] Oh, my dear nurse, forgive +me this once, and I'll never misuse you again; no, if I do, you +shall give me three thumps on the back, and a great pinch by the +cheek. +_Nurse_. Ah, the poor thing! see now it melts; it's as full +of good-nature as an egg's full of meat. +_Miss Hoyd._ But, my dear nurse, don't lie now--is he come, +by your troth? +_Nurse._ Yes, by my truly, is he. +_Miss Hoyd_. O Lord! I'll go and put on my laced tucker, +though I'm locked up for a month for't. +[_Exeunt_. MISS HOYDEN _goes off capering, and twirling +her doll by its leg._] + + + + +ACT IV. + +SCENE I.--_A Room in_ SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY'S _House._ +_Enter_ MISS HOYDEN _and_ NURSE. +_Nurse_. Well, miss, how do you like your husband that is to +be? +_Miss Hoyd_. O Lord, nurse, I'm so overjoyed I can scarce +contain myself! +_Nurse_. Oh, but you must have a care of being too fond; for +men, nowadays, hate a woman that loves 'em. +_Miss Hoyd_. Love him! why, do you think I love him, nurse? +Ecod I would not care if he was hanged, so I were but once +married to him. No, that which pleases me is to think what work +I'll make when I get to London; for when I am a wife and a lady +both, ecod, I'll flaunt it with the best of 'em. Ay, and I shall +have money enough to do so too, nurse. +_Nurse_. Ah, there's no knowing that, miss; for though these +lords have a power of wealth indeed, yet, as I have heard say, +they give it all to their sluts and their trulls, who joggle it +about in their coaches, with a murrain to 'em, whilst poor madam +sits sighing and wishing, and has not a spare half-crown to buy +her a Practice of Piety. +_Miss Hoyd_. Oh, but for that, don't deceive yourself, +nurse; for this I must say of my lord, he's as free as an open +house at Christmas; for this very morning he told me I should +have six hundred a year to buy pins. Now if he gives me six +hundred a year to buy pins, what do you think he'll give me to +buy petticoats? +_Nurse_. Ay, my dearest, he deceives thee foully, and he's +no better than a rogue for his pains! These Londoners have got a +gibberish with 'em would confound a gipsy. That which they call +pin-money, is to buy everything in the versal world, down to +their very shoe-knots. Nay, I have heard some folks say that some +ladies, if they'll have gallants as they call 'em, are forced to +find them out of their pin-money too.--But look, look, if his +honour be not coming to you!--Now, if I were sure you would +behave yourself handsomely, and not disgrace me that have brought +you up, I'd leave you alone together. +_Miss Hoyd_. That's my best nurse; do as you'd be done by. +Trust us together this once, and if I don't show my breeding, I +wish I may never be married, but die an old maid. +_Nurse_. Well, this once I'll venture you. But if you +disparage me-- +_Miss Hoyd_. Never fear. [_Exit_ NURSE.] +_Enter_ TOM FASHION. +_Fash_. Your servant, madam; I'm glad to find you alone, for +I have something of importance to speak to you about. +_Miss Hoyd_. Sir (my lord, I meant), you may speak to me +about what you please, I shall give you a civil answer. +_Fash_. You give so obliging an one, it encourages me to +tell you in a few words what I think, both for your interest and +mine. Your father, I suppose you know, has resolved to make me +happy in being your husband; and I hope I may obtain your consent +to perform what he desires. +_Miss Hoyd_. Sir, I never disobey my father in anything but +eating green gooseberries. +_Fash_. So good a daughter must needs be an admirable wife. +I am therefore impatient till you are mine, and hope you will so +far consider the violence of my love, that you won't have the +cruelty to defer my happiness so long as your father designs it. +_Miss Hoyd_. Pray, my lord, how long is that? +_Fash_. Madam, a thousand years--a whole week. +_Miss Hoyd_. Why, I thought it was to be to-morrow morning, +as soon as I was up. I'm sure nurse told me so. +_Fash_. And it shall be to-morrow morning, if you'll +consent. +_Miss Hoyd_. If I'll consent! Why I thought I was to obey +you as my husband. +_Fash_. That's when we are married. Till then, I'm to obey +you. +_Miss Hoyd_. Why then, if we are to take it by turns, it's +the same thing. I'll obey you now, and when we are married you +shall obey me. +_Fash_. With all my heart. But I doubt we must get nurse on +our side, or we shall hardly prevail with the chaplain. +_Miss Hoyd_. No more we shan't, indeed; for he loves her +better than he loves his pulpit, and would always be a-preaching +to her by his good will. +_Fash_. Why then, my dear, if you'll call her hither we'll +persuade her presently. +_Miss Hoyd_. O Lud! I'll tell you a way how to persuade her +to anything. +_Fash_. How's that? +_Miss Hoyd_. Why tell her she's a handsome comely woman, and +give her half a crown. +_Fash_. Nay, if that will do, she shall have half a score of +'em. +_Miss Hoyd_. O gemini! for half that she'd marry you +herself.--I'll run and call her. [_Exit.] +Fash_. So! matters go on swimmingly. This is a rare girl, +i'faith. I shall have a fine time on't with her at London. +_Enter_ LORY. +So, Lory, what's the matter? +_Lory_. Here, sir--an intercepted packet from the enemy; +your brother's postilion brought it. I knew the livery, pretended +to be a servant of Sir Tunbelly's, and so got possession of the +letter. +_Fash. [Looks at the letter_.] Ouns! he tells Sir Tunbelly +here that he will be with him this evening, with a large party to +supper.--Egad, I must marry the girl directly. +_Lory_. Oh, zounds, sir, directly to be sure. Here she +comes. [_Exit_.] +_Fash_. And the old Jezebel with her. +_Re-enter_ MISS HOYDEN _and_ NURSE. +How do you do, good Mrs. Nurse? I desired your young lady would +give me leave to see you, that I might thank you for your +extraordinary care and kind conduct in her education: pray accept +this small acknowledgment for it at present, and depend upon my +further kindness when I shall be that happy thing, her husband. +[_Gives her money._] +_Nurse_. [_Aside_.] Gold, by the maakins!-- +[_Aloud_.] Your honour's goodness is too great. Alas! all I +can boast of is, I gave her pure and good milk, and so your +honour would have said, an you had seen how the poor thing +thrived, and how it would look up in my face, and crow and laugh, +it would. +_Miss Hoyd_. [_To_ NURSE, _taking her angrily +aside_.] Pray, one word with you. Pr'ythee, nurse, don't stand +ripping up old stories, to make one ashamed before one's love. Do +you think such a fine proper gentleman as he is cares for a +fiddlecome tale of a child? If you have a mind to make him have a +good opinion of a woman, don't tell him what one did then, tell +him what one can do now.--[_To_ Tom FASHION.] I hope your +honour will excuse my mis-manners to whisper before you. It was +only to give some orders about the family. +_Fash_. Oh, everything, madam, is to give way to business; +besides, good housewifery is a very commendable quality in a +young lady. +_Miss Hoyd_. Pray, sir, are young ladies good housewives at +London-town? Do they darn their own linen? +_Fash_. Oh no, they study how to spend money, not to save. +_Miss Hoyd_. Ecod, I don't know but that may be better +sport, eh, nurse? +_Fash_. Well, you have your choice, when you come there. +_Miss Hoyd_. Shall I? then, by my troth, I'll get there as +fast as I can.--[_To_ NURSE.] His honour desires you'll be +so kind as to let us be married to-morrow. +_Nurse_. To-morrow, my dear madam? +_Fash_. Ay, faith, nurse, you may well be surprised at +miss's wanting to put it off so long. To-morrow! no, no; 'tis +now, this very hour, I would have the ceremony performed. +_Miss Hoyd_. Ecod, with all my heart. +_Nurse_. O mercy! worse and worse! +_Fash._ Yes, sweet nurse, now and privately; for all things +being signed and sealed, why should Sir Tunbelly make us stay a +week for a wedding-dinner? +_Nurse._ But if you should be married now, what will you do +when Sir Tunbelly calls for you to be married? +_Miss Hoyd._ Why then we will be married again. +_Nurse._ What twice, my child? +_Miss Hoyd._ Ecod, I don't care how often I'm married, not +I. +_Nurse._ Well, I'm such a tender-hearted fool, I find I can +refuse you nothing. So you shall e'en follow your own inventions. +_Miss Hoyd._ Shall I? O Lord, I could leap over the moon! +_Fash._ Dear nurse, this goodness of yours shall be still +more rewarded. But now you must employ your power with the +chaplain, that he may do this friendly office too, and then we +shall be all happy. Do you think you can prevail with him? +_Nurse._ Prevail with him! or he shall never prevail with +me, I can tell him that. +_Fash._ I'm glad to hear it; however, to strengthen your +interest with him, you may let him know I have several fat +livings in my gift, and that the first that falls shall be in +your disposal. +_Nurse._ Nay, then, I'll make him marry more folks than one, +I'll promise him! +_Miss Hoyd._ Faith, do, nurse, make him marry you too; I'm +sure he'll do't for a fat living. +_Fash._ Well, nurse, while you go and settle matters with +him, your lady and I will go and take a walk in the garden.-- +[_Exit_ NURSE.] Come, madam, dare you venture yourself alone +with me? [_Takes_ MISS HOYDEN _by the hand.] +Miss Hoyd._ Oh dear, yes, sir; I don't think you'll do +anythink to me, I need be afraid on. [_Exeunt._] + +SCENE II.--AMANDA's _Dressing-room._ +_Enter_ AMANDA _followed by her_ MAID. +_Maid._ If you please, madam, only to say whether you'll +have me buy them or not? +_Aman._ Yes--no--Go, teaser; I care not what you do. +Pr'ythee, leave me. [_Exit_ MAID.] +_Enter_ BERINTHIA. +_Ber._ What, in the name of Jove, is the matter with you? +_Aman._ The matter, Berinthia! I'm almost mad; I'm plagued +to death. +_Ber._ Who is it that plagues you? +_Aman._ Who do you think should plague a wife but her +husband? +_Ber._ O, ho! is it come to that?--We shall have you wish +yourself a widow, by-and-by. +_Aman._ Would I were anything but what I am! A base, +ungrateful man, to use me thus! +_Ber._ What, has he given you fresh reason to suspect his +wandering? +_Aman._ Every hour gives me reason. +_Ber._ And yet, Amanda, you perhaps at this moment cause in +another's breast the same tormenting doubts and jealousies which +you feel so sensibly yourself. +_Aman._ Heaven knows I would not. +_Ber._ Why, you can't tell but there may be some one as +tenderly attached to Townly, whom you boast of as your conquest, +as you can be to your husband? +_Aman._ I'm sure, I never encouraged his pretensions. +_Ber._ Psha! psha! no sensible man ever perseveres to love +without encouragement. Why have you not treated him as you have +Lord Foppington? +_Aman._ Because he presumed not so far. But let us drop the +subject. Men, not women, are riddles. Mr. Loveless now follows +some flirt for variety, whom I'm sure he does not like so well as +he does me. +_Ber._ That's more than you know, madam. +_Aman._ Why, do you know the ugly thing? +_Ber._ I think I can guess at the person; but she's no such +ugly thing neither. +_Aman._ Is she very handsome? +_Ber._ Truly I think so. +_Aman._ Whate'er she be, I'm sure he does not like her well +enough to bestow anything more than a little outward gallantry +upon her. +_Ber._ [_Aside._] Outward gallantry! I can't bear +this.-- +[_Aloud._] Come, come, don't you be too secure, Amanda: +while you suffer Townly to imagine that you do not detest him for +his designs on you, you have no right to complain that your +husband is engaged elsewhere. But here comes the person we were +speaking of. +_Enter_ COLONEL TOWNLY. +_Col. Town._ Ladies, as I come uninvited, I beg, if I +intrude, you will use the same freedom in turning me out again. +_Aman._ I believe it is near the time Loveless said he would +be at home. He talked of accepting Lord Foppington's invitation +to sup at Sir Tunbelly Clumsy's. +_Col. Town._ His lordship has done me the honour to invite +me also. If you'll let me escort you, I'll let you into a mystery +as we go, in which you must play a part when we arrive. +_Aman._ But we have two hours yet to spare; the carriages +are not ordered till eight, and it is not a five minutes' drive. +So, cousin, let us keep the colonel to play at piquet with us, +till Mr. Loveless comes home. +_Ber._ As you please, madam; but you know I have a letter to +write. +_Col. Town._ Madam, you know you may command me, though I am +a very wretched gamester. +_Aman._ Oh, you play well enough to lose your money, and +that's all the ladies require; and so, without any more ceremony, +let us go into the next room, and call for cards and candles. +[_Exeunt._] + +SCENE III.--BERINTHIA'S _Dressing-room._ +_Enter_ LOVELESS. +_Love._ So, thus far all's well: I have got into her +dressing-room, and it being dusk, I think nobody has perceived me +steal into the house. I heard Berinthia tell my wife she had some +particular letters to write this evening, before she went to Sir +Tunbelly's, and here are the implements of correspondence.--How +shall I muster up assurance to show myself, when she comes? I +think she has given me encouragement; and, to do my impudence +justice, I have made the most of it.--I hear a door open, and +some one coming. If it should be my wife, what the devil should I +say? I believe she mistrusts me, and, by my life, I don't deserve +her tenderness. However, I am determined to reform, though not +yet. Ha! Berinthia!--So, I'll step in here, till I see what sort +of humour she is in. [_Goes into the closet_.] +_Enter_ BERINTHIA. +_Ber_. Was ever so provoking a situation! To think I should +sit and hear him compliment Amanda to my face! I have lost all +patience with them both! I would not for something have Loveless +know what temper of mind they have piqued me into; yet I can't +bear to leave them together. No, I'll put my papers away, and +return, to disappoint them.--[_Goes to the closet_.]--O +Lord! a ghost! a ghost! a ghost! +_Re-enter_ LOVELESS. +_Love_. Peace, my angel; it's no ghost, but one worth a +hundred spirits. +_Ber_. How, sir, have you had the insolence to presume to-- +run in again; here's somebody coming. [LOVELESS _goes into the +closet_.] +_Enter_ MAID. +_Maid_. O Lord, ma'am, what's the matter? +_Ber_. O Heavens! I'm almost frightened out of my wits! I +thought verily I had seen a ghost, and 'twas nothing but a black +hood pinned against the wall. You may go again; I am the +fearfullest fool! [Exit MAID.] +_Re-enter_ LOVELESS. +_Love_. Is the coast clear? +_Ber_. The coast clear! Upon my word, I wonder at your +assurance. +_Love_. Why, then, you wonder before I have given you a +proof of it. But where's my wife? +_Ber_. At cards. +_Love_. With whom? +_Ber_. With Townly. +_Love_. Then we are safe enough. +_Ber_. You are so! Some husbands would be of another mind, +were he at cards with their wives. +_Love_. And they'd be in the right on't, too; but I dare +trust mine. +_Ber_. Indeed! and she, I doubt not, has the same confidence +in you. Yet, do you think she'd be content to come and find you +here? +_Love_. Egad, as you say, that's true!--Then for fear she +should come, hadn't we better go into the next room, out of her +way? +_Ber_. What, in the dark? +_Love_. Ay, or with a light, which you please. +_Ber_. You are certainly very impudent. +_Love_. Nay, then--let me conduct you, my angel! +_Ber_. Hold, hold! you are mistaken in your angel, I assure +you. +_Love_. I hope not; for by this hand I swear-- +_Ber_. Come, come, let go my hand, or I shall hate you!-- +I'll cry out, as I live! +_Love_. Impossible! you cannot be so cruel. +_Ber_. Ha! here's some one coming. Begone instantly. +_Love_. Will you promise to return, if I remain here? +_Ber_. Never trust myself in a room again with you while I +live. +_Love_. But I have something particular to communicate to +you. +_Ber_. Well, well, before we go to Sir Tunbelly's, I'll walk +upon the lawn. If you are fond of a moonlight evening, you'll +find me there. +_Love_. I'faith, they're coming here now! I take you at your +word. [_Exit into the closet_.] +_Ber_. 'Tis Amanda, as I live! I hope she has not heard his +voice; though I mean she should have her share of jealousy in her +turn. +_Enter_ AMANDA. +_Aman_. Berinthia, why did you leave me? +_Ber_. I thought I only spoiled your party. +_Aman_. Since you have been gone, Townly has attempted +to renew his importunities. I must break with him, for I cannot +venture to acquaint Mr. Loveless with his conduct. +_Ber_. Oh, no! Mr. Loveless mustn't know of it by any means. +_Aman_. Oh, not for the world--I wish, Berinthia, you would +undertake to speak to Townly on the subject. +_Ber_. Upon my word, it would be a very pleasant subject for +me to talk upon! But, come, let us go back; and you may depend +on't I'll not leave you together again, if I can help it. +[_Exeunt_.] +_Re-enter_ LOVELESS. +_Love_. So--so! a pretty piece of business I have overheard! +Townly makes love to my wife, and I am not to know it for all the +world. I must inquire into this--and, by Heaven, if I find that +Amanda has, in the smallest degree--yet what have I been at +here!--Oh, 'sdeath! that's no rule. + + That wife alone unsullied credit wins, + Whose virtues can atone her husband's sins, + Thus, while the man has other nymphs in view, + It suits the woman to be doubly true. +[_Exit_.] + + + + +ACT V. + +SCENE I.--_The Garden behind_ LOVELESS's _Lodgings_. +_Enter_ LOVELESS. +_Love_. Now, does she mean to make a fool of me, or not! I +shan't wait much longer, for my wife will soon be inquiring for +me to set out on our supping party. Suspense is at all times the +devil, but of all modes of suspense, the watching for a loitering +mistress is the worst.--But let me accuse her no longer; she +approaches with one smile to o'erpay the anxieties of a year. +_Enter_ BERINTHIA. +O Berinthia, what a world of kindness are you in my debt! had you +stayed five minutes longer-- +_Ber_. You would have gone, I suppose? +_Love_. Egad, she's right enough. [_Aside.] +Ber_. And I assure you 'twas ten to one that I came at all. In +short, I begin to think you are too dangerous a being to trifle +with; and as I shall probably only make a fool of you at last, I +believe we had better let matters rest as they are. +_Love_. You cannot mean it, sure? +_Ber_. What more would you have me give to a married man? +_Love_. How doubly cruel to remind me of my misfortunes! +_Ber_. A misfortune to be married to so charming a woman as +Amanda? +_Love_. I grant her all her merit, but--'sdeath! now see +what you have done by talking of her--she's here, by all that's +unlucky, and Townly with her.--I'll observe them. +_Ber_. O Gad, we had better get out of the way; for I should +feel as awkward to meet her as you. +_Love_. Ay, if I mistake not, I see Townly coming this way +also. I must see a little into this matter. [_Steps aside_.] +_Ber_. Oh, if that's your intention, I am no woman if I +suffer myself to be outdone in curiosity. [_Goes on the other +side_.] +_Enter_ AMANDA. +_Aman_. Mr. Loveless come home, and walking on the lawn! I +will not suffer him to walk so late, though perhaps it is to show +his neglect of me.--Mr. Loveless, I must speak with you.--Ha! +Townly again!--How I am persecuted! +_Enter_ COLONEL TOWNLY. +_Col. Town_. Madam, you seem disturbed. +_Aman_. Sir, I have reason. +_Col. Town_. Whatever be the cause, I would to Heaven it +were in my power to bear the pain, or to remove the malady. +_Aman_. Your interference can only add to my distress. +_Col. Town_. Ah, madam, if it be the sting of unrequited +love you suffer from, seek for your remedy in revenge: weigh well +the strength and beauty of your charms, and rouse up that spirit +a woman ought to bear. Disdain the false embraces of a husband. +See at your feet a real lover; his zeal may give him title to +your pity, although his merit cannot claim your love. +_Love_. So, so, very fine, i'faith! [_Aside_.] +_Aman_. Why do you presume to talk to me thus? Is this your +friendship to Mr. Loveless? I perceive you will compel me at last +to acquaint him with your treachery. +_Col. Town_. He could not upbraid me if you were.--He +deserves it from me; for he has not been more false to you than +faithless to me. +_Aman_. To you? +_Col. Town_. Yes, madam; the lady for whom he now deserts +those charms which he was never worthy of, was mine by right; +and, I imagine too, by inclination. Yes, madam, Berinthia, who +now-- +_Aman_. Berinthia! Impossible! +_Col. Town_. 'Tis true, or may I never merit your attention. +She is the deceitful sorceress who now holds your husband's heart +in bondage. +_Aman_. I will not believe it. +_Col. Town_. By the faith of a true lover, I speak from +conviction. This very day I saw them together, and overheard-- +_Aman_. Peace, sir! I will not even listen to such slander-- +this is a poor device to work on my resentment, to listen to your +insidious addresses. No, sir; though Mr. Loveless may be capable +of error, I am convinced I cannot be deceived so grossly in him +as to believe what you now report; and for Berinthia, you should +have fixed on some more probable person for my rival than her who +is my relation and my friend: for while I am myself free from +guilt, I will never believe that love can beget injury, or +confidence create ingratitude. +_Col. Town_. If I do not prove to you-- +_Aman._ You never shall have an opportunity. From the artful +manner in which you first showed yourself to me, I might have +been led, as far as virtue permitted, to have thought you less +criminal than unhappy; but this last unmanly artifice merits at +once my resentment and contempt. [_Exit_.] +_Col. Town_. Sure there's divinity about her; and she has +dispensed some portion of honour's light to me: yet can I bear to +lose Berinthia without revenge or compensation? Perhaps she is +not so culpable as I thought her. I was mistaken when I began to +think lightly of Amanda's virtue, and may be in my censure of my +Berinthia. Surely I love her still, for I feel I should be happy +to find myself in the wrong. [_Exit_.] +_Re-enter_ LOVELESS _and_ BERINTHIA. +_Ber_. Your servant, Mr. Loveless. +_Love_. Your servant, madam. +_Ber_. Pray what do you think of this? +_Love_. Truly, I don't know what to say. +_Ber_. Don't you think we steal forth two contemptible +creatures? +_Love_. Why, tolerably so, I must confess. +_Ber_. And do you conceive it possible for you ever to give +Amanda the least uneasiness again? +_Love_. No, I think we never should indeed. +_Ber_. We! why, monster, you don't pretend that I ever +entertained a thought? +_Love_. Why then, sincerely and honestly, Berinthia, there +is something in my wife's conduct which strikes me so forcibly, +that if it were not for shame, and the fear of hurting you in her +opinion, I swear I would follow her, confess my error, and trust +to her generosity for forgiveness. +_Ber_. Nay, pr'ythee, don't let your respect for me prevent +you; for as my object in trifling with you was nothing more than +to pique Townly, and as I perceive he has been actuated by a +similar motive, you may depend on't I shall make no mystery of +the matter to him. +_Love_. By no means inform him: for though I may choose to +pass by his conduct without resentment, how will he presume to +look me in the face again? +_Ber_. How will you presume to look him in the face again? +_Love_. He, who has dared to attempt the honour of my wife! +_Ber_. You who have dared to attempt the honour of his +mistress! Come, come, be ruled by me, who affect more levity than +I have, and don't think of anger in this cause. A readiness to +resent injuries is a virtue only in those who are slow to injure. +_Love_. Then I will be ruled by you; and when you think +proper to undeceive Townly, may your good qualities make as +sincere a convert of him as Amanda's have of me.-When truth's +extorted from us, then we own the robe of virtue is a sacred +habit. + + Could women but our secret counsel scan-- + Could they but reach the deep reserve of man-- + To keep our love they'd rate their virtue high, + They live together, and together die. + +[_Exeunt_.] + +SCENE II.--_A Room in_ SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY'S _House. +Enter_ MISS HOYDEN, NURSE, _and_ TOM FASHION. +_Fash_. This quick despatch of the chaplain's I take so +kindly it shall give him claim to my favour as long as I live, I +assure you. +_Miss Hoyd_. And to mine too, I promise you. +_Nurse_. I most humbly thank your honours; and may your +children swarm about you like bees about a honeycomb! +_Miss Hoyd_. Ecod, with all my heart--the more the merrier, +I say--ha, nurse? +_Enter_ LORY. +_Lory_. One word with you, for Heaven's sake. [_Taking_ +TOM FASHION _hastily aside_.] +_Fash_. What the devil's the matter? +_Lory_. Sir, your fortune's ruined if you are not married. +Yonder's your brother arrived, with two coaches and six horses, +twenty footmen, and a coat worth fourscore pounds--so judge what +will become of your lady's heart. +_Fash_. Is he in the house yet? +_Lory_. No, they are capitulating with him at the gate. Sir +Tunbelly luckily takes him for an impostor; and I have told him +that we have heard of this plot before. +_Fash_. That's right.--[_Turning to_ MISS HOYDEN.] My +dear, here's a troublesome business my man tells me of, but don't +be frightened; we shall be too hard for the rogue. Here's an +impudent fellow at the gate (not knowing I was come hither +incognito) has taken my name upon him, in hopes to run away with +you. +_Miss Hoyd_. Oh, the brazen-faced varlet! it's well we are +married, or maybe we might never have been so. +_Fash. [Aside_.] Egad, like enough.--[_Aloud_.] +Pr'ythee, nurse, run to Sir Tunbelly, and stop him from going to +the gate before I speak to him. +_Nurse_. An't please your honour, my lady and I had +better, lock ourselves up till the danger be over. +_Fash_. Do so, if you please. +_Miss Hoyd_. Not so fast; I won't be locked up any more, now +I'm married. +_Fash_. Yes, pray, my dear, do, till we have seized this +rascal. +_Miss Hoyd_. Nay, if you'll pray me, I'll do anything. +[_Exit with_ NURSE.] +_Fash_. Hark you, sirrah, things are better than you +imagine. The wedding's over. +_Lory_. The devil it is, sir! [_Capers about_.] +_Fash_. Not a word--all's safe--but Sir Tunbelly don't know +it, nor must not yet. So I am resolved to brazen the brunt of the +business out, and have the pleasure of turning the impostor upon +his lordship, which I believe may easily be done. +_Enter_ SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. +Did you ever hear, sir, of so impudent an undertaking? +_Sir Tun_. Never, by the mass; but we'll tickle him, I'll +warrant you. +_Fash_. They tell me, sir, he has a great many people with +him, disguised like servants. +_Sir Tun_. Ay, ay, rogues enow, but we have mastered them. +We only fired a few shot over their heads, and the regiment +scoured in an instant.--Here, Tummus, bring in your prisoner. +_Fash_. If you please, Sir Tunbelly, it will be best for me +not to confront this fellow yet, till you have heard how far his +impudence will carry him. +_Sir Tun_. Egad, your lordship is an ingenious person. Your +lordship, then, will please to step aside. +_Lory_. [_Aside_.] 'Fore heavens, I applaud my master's +modesty! [_Exit with_ TOM FASHION.] +_Enter_ SERVANTS, _with_ LORD FOPPINGTON +_disarmed_. +_Sir Tun_. Come, bring him along, bring him along. +_Lord Fop_. What the plague do you mean, gentlemen? is it +fair time, that you are all drunk before supper? +_Sir Tun_. Drunk, sirrah! here's an impudent rogue for you +now. Drunk or sober, bully, I'm a justice o' the peace, and know +how to deal with strollers. +_Lord Fop_. Strollers! +_Sir Tun_. Ay, strollers. Come, give an account of yourself. +What's your name? where do you live? do you pay scot and lot? +Come, are you a freeholder or a copyholder? +_Lord Fop_. And why dost thou ask me so many impertinent +questions? +_Sir Tun_. Because I'll make you answer 'em, before I have +done with you, you rascal, you! +_Lord Fop_. Before Gad, all the answer I can make to them +is, that you are a very extraordinary old fellow, stap my vitals. +_Sir Tun_. Nay, if thou art joking deputy-lieutenants, we +know how to deal with you.--Here, draw a warrant for him +immediately. +_Lord Fop_. A warrant! What the devil is't thou wouldst be +at, old gentleman? +_Sir Tun_. I would be at you, sirrah, (if my hands were not +tied as a magistrate,) and with these two double fists beat your +teeth down your throat, you dog, you! [_Driving him_.] +_Lord Fop_. And why wouldst thou spoil my face at that rate? +_Sir Tun_. For your design to rob me of my daughter, +villain. +_Lord Fop_. Rob thee of thy daughter! Now do I begin to +believe I am in bed and asleep, and that all this is but a dream. +Pr'ythee, old father, wilt thou give me leave to ask thee one +question? +_Sir Tun_. I can't tell whether I will or not, till I know +what it is. +_Lord Fop_. Why, then, it is, whether thou didst not write +to my Lord Foppington, to come down and marry thy daughter? +_Sir Tun._ Yes, marry, did I, and my Lord Foppington is come +down, and shall marry my daughter before she's a day older. +_Lord Fop._ Now give me thy hand, old dad; I thought we +should understand one another at last. +_Sir Tun._ The fellow's mad!--Here, bind him hand and foot. +[_They bind him._] +_Lord Fop._ Nay, pr'ythee, knight, leave fooling; thy jest +begins to grow dull. +_Sir Tun._ Bind him, I say--he's mad: bread and water, a +dark room, and a whip, may bring him to his senses again. +_Lord Fop._ Pr'ythee, Sir Tunbelly, why should you take such +an aversion to the freedom of my address as to suffer the rascals +thus to skewer down my arms like a rabbit?--[_Aside._] Egad, +if I don't awake, by all that I can see, this is like to prove +one of the most impertinent dreams that ever I dreamt in my life. +_Re-enter_ MISS HOYDEN _and_ NURSE. +_Miss Hoyd._ [_Going up to_ LORD FOPPINGTON.] Is this +he that would have run--Fough, how he stinks of sweets!--Pray, +father, let him be dragged through the horse-pond. +_Lord Fop._ This must be my wife, by her natural inclination +to her husband. [_Aside._] +_Miss Hoyd._ Pray, father, what do you intend to do with +him--hang him? +_Sir Tun._ That, at least, child. +_Nurse._ Ay, and it's e'en too good for him too. +_Lord Fop._ Madame la gouvernante, I presume: hitherto this +appears to me to be one of the most extraordinary families that +ever man of quality matched into. [_Aside._] +_Sir Tun._ What's become of my lord, daughter? +_Miss Hoyd._ He's just coming, sir. +_Lord Fop._ My lord! what does he mean by that, now? +[_Aside._] +_Re-enter_ TOM FASHION _and_ LORY. +Stap my vitals, Tam, now the dream's out! [_Runs._] +_Fash._ Is this the fellow, sir, that designed to trick me +of your daughter? +_Sir Tun_. This is he, my lord. How do you like him? Is not +he a pretty fellow to get a fortune? +_Fash_. I find by his dress he thought your daughter might +be taken with a beau. +_Miss Hoyd_. Oh, gemini! is this a beau? let me see him +again. [_Surveys him_.] Ha! I find a beau is no such ugly +thing, neither. +_Fash. [Aside_.] Egad, she'll be in love with him presently +--I'll e'en have him sent away to jail.--[_To_ LORD +FOPPINGTON.] Sir, though your undertaking shows you a person of +no extraordinary modesty, I suppose you ha'n't confidence enough +to expect much favour from me? +_Lord Fop_. Strike me dumb, Tam, thou art a very impudent +fellow. +_Nurse_. Look, if the varlet has not the effrontery to call +his lordship plain Thomas! +_Lord Fop_. My Lord Foppington, shall I beg one word with +your lordship? +_Nurse_. Ho, ho! it's my lord with him now! See how +afflictions will humble folks. +_Miss Hoyd_. Pray, my lord--[_To_ FASHION]--don't let +him whisper too close, lest he bite your ear off. +_Lord Fop_. I am not altogether so hungry as your ladyship +is pleased to imagine.--[_Aside to_ TOM FASHION.] Look you, +Tam, I am sensible I have not been so kind to you as I ought, but +I hope you'll forgive what's past, and accept of the five +thousand pounds I offer--thou mayst live in extreme splendour +with it, stap my vitals! +_Fash_. It's a much easier matter to prevent a disease than +to cure it. A quarter of that sum would have secured your +mistress, twice as much cannot redeem her. [_Aside to_ LORD +FOPPINGTON.] +_Sir Tun_. Well, what says he? +_Fash_. Only the rascal offered me a bribe to let him go. +_Sir Tun_. Ay, he shall go, with a plague to him!--lead on, +constable. +_Enter_ SERVANT. +_Ser_. Sir, here is Muster Loveless, and Muster Colonel +Townly, and some ladies to wait on you. [_To_ TOM FASHION.] +_Lory. [Aside to_ TOM FASHION.] So, sir, what will you do +now? +_Fash_. [_Aside to_ LORY.] Be quiet; they are in the +plot.--[_Aloud_.] Only a few friends, Sir Tunbelly, whom I +wish to introduce to you. +_Lord Fop_. Thou art the most impudent fellow, Tam, that +ever nature yet brought into the world.--Sir Tunbelly, strike me +speechless, but these are my friends and acquaintance, and my +guests, and they will soon inform thee whether I am the true Lord +Foppington or not. +_Enter_ LOVELESS, COLONEL TOWNLY, AMANDA, _and_ +BERINTHIA.--LORD FOPPINGTON _accosts them as they pass, but +none answer him. +Fash_. So, gentlemen, this is friendly; I rejoice to see you. +_Col. Town_. My lord, we are fortunate to be the witnesses +of your lordship's happiness. +_Love_. But your lordship will do us the honour to introduce +us to Sir Tunbelly Clumsy? +_Aman_. And us to your lady. +_Lord Fop_. Gad take me, but they are all in a story! +[_Aside_.] +_Sir Tun_. Gentlemen, you do me much honour; my Lord +Foppington's friends will ever be welcome to me and mine. +_Fash_. My love, let me introduce you to these ladies. +_Miss Hoyd_. By goles, they look so fine and so stiff, I am +almost ashamed to come nigh 'em. +_Aman_. A most engaging lady indeed! +_Miss Hoyd_. Thank ye, ma'am. +_Ber_. And I doubt not will soon distinguish herself in the +beau monde. +_Miss Hoyd_. Where is that? +_Fash_. You'll soon learn, my dear. +_Love_. But Lord Foppington-- +_Lord Fop_. Sir! +_Love_. Sir! I was not addressing myself to you, sir!--Pray +who is this gentleman? He seems rather in a singular predicament-- +_Col. Town_. For so well-dressed a person, a little oddly +circumstanced, indeed. +_Sir Tun_. Ha! ha! ha!--So, these are your friends and your +guests, ha, my adventurer? +_Lord Fop_. I am struck dumb with their impudence, and +cannot positively say whether I shall ever speak again or not. +_Sir Tun._ Why, sir, this modest gentleman wanted to pass +himself upon me as Lord Foppington, and carry off my daughter. +_Love._ A likely plot to succeed, truly, ha! ha! +_Lord Fop._ As Gad shall judge me, Loveless, I did not expect +this from thee. Come, pr'ythee confess the joke; tell Sir +Tunbelly that I am the real Lord Foppington, who yesterday made +love to thy wife; was honoured by her with a slap on the face, +and afterwards pinked through the body by thee. +_Sir Tun._ A likely story, truly, that a peer would behave +thus. +_Love._ A pretty fellow, indeed, that would scandalize the +character he wants to assume; but what will you do with him, Sir +Tunbelly? +_Sir Tun._ Commit him, certainly, unless the bride and +bridegroom choose to pardon him. +_Lord Fop._ Bride and bridegroom! For Gad's sake, Sir +Tunbelly, 'tis tarture to me to hear you call 'em so. +_Miss Hoyd._ Why, you ugly thing, what would you have him +call us--dog and cat? +_Lord Fop._ By no means, miss; for that sounds ten times +more like man and wife than t'other. +_Sir Tun._ A precious rogue this to come a-wooing! +_Re-enter_ SERVANT. +_Ser._ There are some gentlefolks below to wait upon Lord +Foppington. [_Exit._] +_Col. Town._ 'Sdeath, Tom, what will you do now? [_Aside +to_ TOM FASHION.] +_Lord Fop._ Now, Sir Tunbelly, here are witnesses who I +believe are not corrupted. +_Sir Tun._ Peace, fellow!--Would your lordship choose to have +your guests shown here, or shall they wait till we come to 'em? +_Fash._ I believe, Sir Tunbelly, we had better not have these +visitors here yet.--[_Aside_.] Egad, all must out. +_Love._ Confess, confess; we'll stand by you. [_Aside +to_ TOM FASHION.] +_Lord Fop._ Nay, Sir Tunbelly, I insist on your calling +evidence on both sides--and if I do not prove that fellow an +impostor-- +_Fash_. Brother, I will save you the trouble, by now +confessing that I am not what I have passed myself for.--Sir +Tunbelly, I am a gentleman, and I flatter myself a man of +character; but'tis with great pride I assure you I am not Lord +Foppington. +_Sir Tun_. Ouns!--what's this?--an impostor?--a cheat?--fire +and faggots, sir, if you are not Lord Foppington, who the +devil are you? +_Fash_. Sir, the best of my condition is, I am your son-in-law; +and the worst of it is, I am brother to that noble peer. +_Lord Fop_. Impudent to the last, Gad dem me! +_Sir Tun_. My son-in-law! not yet, I hope. +_Fash_. Pardon me, sir; thanks to the goodness of your +chaplain, and the kind offices of this gentlewoman. +_Lory_. 'Tis true indeed, sir; I gave your daughter away, +and Mrs. Nurse, here, was clerk. +_Sir Tun_. Knock that rascal down!--But speak, Jezebel, how's +this? +_Nurse_. Alas! your honour, forgive me; I have been +overreached in this business as well as you. Your worship knows, +if the wedding-dinner had been ready, you would have given her +away with your own hands. +_Sir Tun_. But how durst you do this without acquainting me? +_Nurse_. Alas! if your worship had seen how the poor thing +begged and prayed, and clung and twined about me like ivy round +an old wall, you would say, I who had nursed it, and reared it, +must have had a heart like stone to refuse it. +_Sir Tun_. Ouns! I shall go mad! Unloose my lord there, you +scoundrels! +_Lord Fop_. Why, when these gentlemen are at leisure, I +should be glad to congratulate you on your son-in-law, with a +little more freedom of address. +_Miss Hoyd_. Egad, though, I don't see which is to be my +husband after all. +_Love_. Come, come, Sir Tunbelly, a man of your +understanding must perceive that an affair of this kind is not to +be mended by anger and reproaches. +_Col. Town_. Take my word for it, Sir Tunbelly, you are only +tricked into a son-in-law you may be proud of: my friend Tom +Fashion is as honest a fellow as ever breathed. +_Love_. That he is, depend on't; and will hunt or drink with +you most affectionately: be generous, old boy, and forgive them-- +_Sir Tun_. Never! the hussy!--when I had set my heart on +getting her a title. +_Lord Fop_. Now, Sir Tunbelly, that I am untrussed--give me +leave to thank thee for the very extraordinary reception I have +met with in thy damned, execrable mansion; and at the same time +to assure you, that of all the bumpkins and blockheads I have had +the misfortune to meek with, thou art the most obstinate and +egregious, strike me ugly! +_Sir Tun_. What's this! I believe you are both rogues alike. +_Lord Fop_. No, Sir Tunbelly, thou wilt find to thy +unspeakable mortification, that I am the real Lord Foppington, +who was to have disgraced myself by an alliance with a clod; and +that thou hast matched thy girl to a beggarly younger brother of +mine, whose title deeds might be contained in thy tobacco-box. +_Sir Tun_. Puppy! puppy!--I might prevent their being +beggars, if I chose it; for I could give 'em as good a rent-roll +as your lordship. +_Lord Fop_. Ay, old fellow, but you will not do that--for +that would be acting like a Christian, and thou art a barbarian, +stap my vitals. +_Sir Tun_. Udzookers! now six such words more, and I'll +forgive them directly. +_Love_. 'Slife, Sir Tunbelly, you should do it, and bless +yourself--Ladies, what say you? +_Aman_. Good Sir Tunbelly, you must consent. +_Ber_. Come, you have been young yourself, Sir Tunbelly. +_Sir Tun_. Well then, if I must, I must; but turn--turn that +sneering lord out, however, and let me be revenged on somebody. +But first look whether I am a barbarian or not; there, children, +I join your hands; and when I'm in a better humour, I'll give you +my blessing. +_Love_. Nobly done, Sir Tunbelly! and we shall see you dance +at a grandson's christening yet. +_Miss Hoyd_. By goles, though, I don't understand this! +What! an't I to be a lady after all? only plain Mrs.--What's my +husband's name, nurse? +_Nurse_. Squire Fashion. +_Miss Hoyd_. Squire, is he?--Well, that's better than +nothing. +_Lord Fop. [Aside_.] Now I will put on a philosophic air, +and show these people, that it is not possible to put a man of my +quality out of countenance.--[_Aloud_.] Dear Tam, since +things are fallen out, pr'ythee give me leave to wish thee joy; I +do it _de bon coeur_, strike me dumb! You have married into +a family of great politeness and uncommon elegance of manners, +and your bride appears to be a lady beautiful in person, modest +in her deportment, refined in her sentiments, and of nice +morality, split my windpipe! +_Miss Hoyd_. By goles, husband, break his bones if he calls +me names! +_Fash_. Your lordship may keep up your spirits with your +grimace, if you please; I shall support mine, by Sir Tunbelly's +favour, with this lady and three thousand pounds a year. +_Lord Fop_. Well, adieu, Tam!--Ladies, I kiss your, hands!-- +Sir Tunbelly, I shall now quit this thy den; but while I retain +the use of my arms, I shall ever remember thou art a demned +horrid savage; Ged demn me! [_Exit_.] +_Sir Tun_. By the mass, 'tis well he's gone--for I should +ha' been provoked, by-and-by, to ha' dun un a mischief. Well, if +this is a lord, I think Hoyden has luck on her side, in troth. +_Col. Town_. She has, indeed, Sir Tunbelly.--But I hear the +fiddles; his lordship, I know, has provided 'em. +_Love_. Oh, a dance and a bottle, Sir Tunbelly, by all +means! +_Sir Tun_. I had forgot the company below; well--what--we +must be merry, then, ha? and dance and drink, ha? Well, 'fore +George, you shan't say I do these things by halves. Son-in-law +there looks like a hearty rogue, so we'll have a night on't: and +which of these ladies will be the old man's partner, ha?--Ecod, I +don't know how I came to be in so good a humour. +_Ber_. Well, Sir Tunbelly, my friend and I both will +endeavour to keep you so: you have done a generous action, and +are entitled to our attention. If you should be at a loss to +divert your new guests, we will assist you to relate to them the +plot of your daughter's marriage, and his lordship's deserved +mortification; a subject which perhaps may afford no bad +evening's entertainment. +_Sir Tun_. Ecod, with all my heart; though I am a main +bungler at a long story. +_Ber_. Never fear; we will assist you, if the tale is judged +worth being repeated; but of this you may be assured, that while +the intention is evidently to please, British auditors will ever +be indulgent to the errors of the performance. [Exeunt omnes.] + + + + +THE CRITIC; +OR, A TRAGEDY REHEARSED _A DRAMATIC PIECE IN THREE ACTS_ TO +MRS. GREVILLE +_MADAM_,--In requesting your permission to address the +following pages to you, which, as they aim themselves to be +critical, require every protection and allowance that approving +taste or friendly prejudice can give them, I yet ventured to +mention no other motive than the gratification of private +friendship and esteem. Had I suggested a hope that your implied +approbation would give a sanction to their defects, your +particular reserve, and dislike to the reputation of critical +taste, as well as of poetical talent, would have made you refuse +the protection of your name to such a purpose. However, I am not +so ungrateful as now to attempt to combat this disposition in +you. I shall not here presume to argue that the present state of +poetry claims and expects every assistance that taste and example +can afford it; nor endeavour to prove that a fastidious +concealment of the most elegant productions of judgment and fancy +is an ill return for the possession of those endowments. Continue +to deceive yourself in the idea that you are known only to be +eminently admired and regarded for the valuable qualities that +attach private friendships, and the graceful talents that adorn +conversation. Enough of what you have written has stolen into +full public notice to answer my purpose; and you will, perhaps, +be the only person, conversant in elegant literature, who shall +read this address and not perceive that by publishing your +particular approbation of the following drama, I have a more +interested object than to boast the true respect and regard with +which I have the honour to be, Madam, your very sincere and +obedient humble servant, R. B. SHERIDAN. + + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE +AS ORIGINALLY ACTED AT DRURY LANE THEATRE IN 1779 + + SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY. _Mr. Parsons_. + PUFF. _Mr. King_. + DANGLE. _Mr. Dodd_ + SNEER. _Mr. Palmer_. + SIGNOR PASTICCIO RITORNELLO. _Mr. Delpini_. + INTERPRETER. _Mr. Baddeley_. + UNDER PROMPTER. _Mr. Phillimore_. + MR. HOPKINS. _Mr. Hopkins_. + MRS. DANGLE. _Mrs. Hopkins_. + SIGNORE PASTICCIO RITORNELLO. _Miss Field and the Miss +Abrams_. + +Scenemen, Musicians, _and_ Servants. + +CHARACTERS OF THE TRAGEDY + + LORD BURLEIGH. _Mr. Moody_. + GOVERNOR OF TILBURY FORT. _Mr. Wrighten_. + EARL OF LEICESTER. _Mr. Farren_. + SIR WALTER RALEIGH. _Mr. Burton_. + SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON. _Mr. Waldron_. + MASTER OF THE HORSE. _Mr. Kenny_. + DON FEROLO WHISKERANDOS. _Mr. Bannister, jun_. + BEEFEATER. _Mr. Wright_. + JUSTICE. _Mr. Packer_. + SON. _Mr. Lamash_. + CONSTABLE. _Mr. Fawcett_. + THAMES. _Mr. Gawdry_. + TILBURINA. _Miss Pope_. + CONFIDANT. _Mrs. Bradshaw_. + JUSTICE's LADY. _Mrs. Johnston_. + FIRST NIECE. _Miss Collett_. + SECOND NIECE. _Miss Kirby_. + +Knights, Guards, Constables, Sentinels, Servants, Chorus, Rivers, +Attendants, &c., &c. +SCENE--LONDON: _in_ DANGLES _House during the First Act, +and throughout the rest of the Play in_ DRURY LANE THEATRE. +PROLOGUE +BY THE HONOURABLE RICHARD FITZPATRICK + + THE sister Muses, whom these realms obey, + Who o'er the drama hold divided sway, + Sometimes by evil counsellors, 'tis said, + Like earth-born potentates have been misled. + In those gay days of wickedness and wit, + When Villiers criticised what Dryden writ, + The tragic queen, to please a tasteless crowd, + Had learn'd to bellow, rant, and roar so loud, + That frighten'd Nature, her best friend before, + The blustering beldam's company foreswore; + Her comic sister, who had wit 'tis true, + With all her merits, had her failings too: + And would sometimes in mirthful moments use + A style too flippant for a well-bred muse; + Then female modesty abash'd began + To seek the friendly refuge of the fan, + Awhile behind that slight intrenchment stood, + Till driven from thence, she left the stage for good. + In our more pious, and far chaster times, + These sure no longer are the Muse's crimes! + But some complain that, former faults to shun, + The reformation to extremes has run. + The frantic hero's wild delirium past, + Now insipidity succeeds bombast: + So slow Melpomene's cold numbers creep, + Here dulness seems her drowsy court to keep, + And we are scarce awake, whilst you are fast asleep. + Thalia, once so ill-behaved and rude, + Reform'd, is now become an arrant prude; + Retailing nightly to the yawning pit + The purest morals, undefiled by wit! + Our author offers, in these motley scenes, + A slight remonstrance to the drama's queens: + Nor let the goddesses be over nice; + Free-spoken subjects give the best advice. + Although not quite a novice in his trade, + His cause to-night requires no common aid. + To this, a friendly, just, and powerful court, + I come ambassador to beg support. + Can he undaunted brave the critic's rage? + In civil broils with brother bards engage? + Hold forth their errors to the public eye, + Nay more, e'en newspapers themselves defy? + Say, must his single arm encounter all? + By number vanquish'd, e'en the brave may fall; + And though no leader should success distrust, + Whose troops are willing, and whose cause is just; + To bid such hosts of angry foes defiance, + His chief dependence must be, your alliance. + + + + +ACT I. + +SCENE I.--_A Room in_ DANGLE's _House_. +Mr. _and_ MRS. DANGLE _discovered at breakfast, and +reading newspapers_. +_Dang. [Reading.] Brutus to Lord North.--Letter the second on +the State of the Army_--Psha! _To the first L dash D of the +A dash Y.--Genuine extract of a Letter from St. Kitt's.--Coxheath +Intelligence.--It is now confidently asserted that Sir Charles +Hardy_--Psha! nothing but about the fleet and the nation!--and +I hate all politics but theatrical politics.--Where's the Morning +Chronicle? +_Mrs. Dang_. Yes, that's your Gazette. +_Dang_. So, here we have it.--[_Reads.] Theatrical +intelligence extraordinary.--We hear there is a new tragedy in +rehearsal at Drury Lane Theatre, called the Spanish Armada, said +to be written by Mr. Puff, a gentleman well-known in the +theatrical world. If we may allow ourselves to give credit to the +report of the performers, who, truth to say, are in general but +indifferent judges, this piece abounds with the most striking and +received beauties of modern composition.--_So! I am very glad +my friend Puff's tragedy is in such forwardness.--Mrs. Dangle, my +dear, you will be very glad to hear that Puff's tragedy-- +_Mrs. Dang_. Lord, Mr. Dangle, why will you plague me about +such nonsense?--Now the plays are begun I shall have no peace.-- +Isn't it sufficient to make yourself ridiculous by your passion +for the theatre, without continually teasing me to join you? Why +can't you ride your hobby-horse without desiring to place me on a +pillion behind you, Mr. Dangle? +_Dang_. Nay, my dear, I was only going to read-- +_Mrs. Dang_. No, no; you will never read anything that's +worth listening to. You hate to hear about your country; there +are letters every day with Roman signatures, demonstrating the +certainty of an invasion, and proving that the nation is utterly +undone. But you never will read anything to entertain one. +_Dang_. What has a woman to do with politics, Mrs. Dangle? +_Mrs. Dang_. And what have you to do with the theatre, Mr. +Dangle? Why should you affect the character of a critic? I have +no patience with you!--haven't you made yourself the jest of all +your acquaintance by your interference in matters where you have +no business? Are you not called a theatrical Quidnunc, and a mock +Maecenas to second-hand authors? +_Dang_. True; my power with the managers is pretty +notorious. But is it no credit to have applications from all +quarters for my interest--from lords to recommend fiddlers, from +ladies to get boxes, from authors to get answers, and from actors +to get engagements? +_Mrs. Dang_. Yes, truly; you have contrived to get a share in +all the plague and trouble of theatrical property, without the +profit, or even the credit of the abuse that attends it. +_Dang_. I am sure, Mrs. Dangle, you are no loser by it, +however; you have all the advantages of it. Mightn't you, last +winter, have had the reading of the new pantomime a fortnight +previous to its performance? And doesn't Mr. Fosbrook let you +take places for a play before it is advertised, and set you down +for a box for every new piece through the season? And didn't my +friend, Mr. Smatter, dedicate his last farce to you at my +particular request, Mrs. Dangle? +_Mrs. Dang_. Yes; but wasn't the farce damned, Mr. Dangle? +And to be sure it is extremely pleasant to have one's house made +the motley rendezvous of all the lackeys of literature; the very +high 'Change of trading authors and jobbing critics!--Yes, my +drawing-room is an absolute register-office for candidate actors, +and poets without character.--Then to be continually alarmed with +misses and ma'ams piping hysteric changes on Juliets and +Dorindas, Pollys and Ophelias; and the very furniture trembling +at the probationary starts and unprovoked rants of would-be +Richards and Hamlets!--And what is worse than all, now that the +manager has monopolized the Opera House, haven't we the signors +and signoras calling here, sliding their smooth semibreves, and +gargling glib divisions in their outlandish throats--with foreign +emissaries and French spies, for aught I know, disguised like +fiddlers and figure dancers? +_Dang_. Mercy! Mrs. Dangle! +_Mrs. Dang_. And to employ yourself so idly at such an +alarming crisis as this too--when, if you had the least spirit, +you would have been at the head of one of the Westminster +associations--or trailing a volunteer pike in the Artillery +Ground! But you--o' my conscience, I believe, if the French were +landed to-morrow, your first inquiry would be, whether they had +brought a theatrical troop with them. +_Dang_. Mrs. Dangle, it does not signify--I say the stage is +_the mirror of Nature_, and the actors are _the Abstract +and brief Chronicles of the Time_: and pray what can a man of +sense study better?--Besides, you will not easily persuade me +that there is no credit or importance in being at the head of a +band of critics, who take upon them to decide for the whole town, +whose opinion and patronage all writers solicit, and whose +recommendation no manager dares refuse. +_Mrs. Dang_. Ridiculous!--Both managers and authors of the +least merit laugh at your pretensions.--The public is their +critic--without whose fair approbation they know no play can rest +on the stage, and with whose applause they welcome such attacks +as yours, and laugh at the malice of them, where they can't at +the wit. +_Dang_. Very well, madam--very well! +_Enter_ SERVANT. +_Ser_. Mr. Sneer, sir, to wait on you. +_Dang_. Oh, show Mr. Sneer up.--[_Exit_ SERVANT.]-- +Plague on't, now we must appear loving and affectionate, or Sneer +will hitch us into a story. +_Mrs. Dang_. With all my heart; you can't be more ridiculous +than you are. +_Dang_. You are enough to provoke-- +_Enter_ SNEER. +Ha! my dear Sneer, I am vastly glad to see you.--My dear, here's +Mr. Sneer. +_Mrs. Dang_. Good-morning to you, sir. +_Dang_. Mrs. Dangle and I have been diverting ourselves with +the papers. Pray, Sneer, won't you go to Drury Lane Theatre the +first night of Puff's tragedy? +_Sneer_. Yes; but I suppose one shan't be able to get in, +for on the first night of a new piece they always fill the house +with orders to support it. But here, Dangle, I have brought you +two pieces, one of which you must exert yourself to make the +managers accept, I can tell you that; for'tis written by a person +of consequence. +_Dang_. So! now my plagues are beginning. +_Sneer_. Ay, I am glad of it, for now you'll be happy. Why, +my dear Dangle, it is a pleasure to see how you enjoy your +volunteer fatigue, and your solicited solicitations. +_Dang_. It's a great trouble--yet, egad, it's pleasant too. +--Why, sometimes of a morning I have a dozen people call on me at +breakfast-time, whose faces I never saw before, nor ever desire +to see again. +_Sneer_. That must be very pleasant indeed! +_Dang_. And not a week but I receive fifty letters, and not +a line in them about any business of my own. +_Sneer_. An amusing correspondence! +_Dang_. [_Reading_.] _Bursts into tears and +exit_.--What, is this a tragedy? +_Sneer_. No, that's a genteel comedy, not a translation-- +only taken from the French: it is written in a style which they +have lately tried to run down; the true sentimental, and nothing +ridiculous in it from the beginning to the end. +_Mrs. Dang_. Well, if they had kept to that, I should not +have been such an enemy to the stage; there was some edification +to be got from those pieces, Mr. Sneer! +_Sneer_. I am quite of your opinion, Mrs. Dangle: the +theatre, in proper hands, might certainly be made the school of +morality; but now, I am sorry to say it, people seem to go there +principally for their entertainment! +_Mrs. Dang_. It would have been more to the credit of the +managers to have kept it in the other line. +_Sneer_. Undoubtedly, madam; and hereafter perhaps to have +had it recorded, that in the midst of a luxurious and dissipated +age, they preserved two houses in the capital, where the +conversation was always moral at least, if not entertaining! +_Dang_. Now, egad, I think the worst alteration is in the +nicety of the audience!--No _double-entendre_, no smart +innuendo admitted; even Vanbrugh and Congreve obliged to undergo +a bungling reformation! +_Sneer_. Yes, and our prudery in this respect is just on a +par with the artificial bashfulness of a courtesan, who increases +the blush upon her cheek in an exact proportion to the diminution +of her modesty. +_Dang_. Sneer can't even give the public a good word! But +what have we here?--This seems a very odd-- +_Sneer_. Oh, that's a comedy on a very new plan; replete +with wit and mirth, yet of a most serious moral! You see it is +called _The Reformed House-breaker_; where, by the mere +force of humour, house-breaking is put in so ridiculous a light, +that if the piece has its proper run, I have no doubt but that +bolts and bars will be entirely useless by the end of the season. +_Dang_. Egad, this is new indeed! +_Sneer_. Yes; it is written by a particular friend of mine, +who has discovered that the follies and foibles of society are +subjects unworthy the notice of the comic muse, who should be +taught to stoop only to the greater vices and blacker crimes of +humanity--gibbeting capital offences in five acts, and pillorying +petty larcenies in two.--In short, his idea is to dramatize the +penal laws, and make the stage a court of ease to the Old Bailey. +_Dang_. It is truly moral. +_Re-enter_ SERVANT. +_Ser_. Sir Fretful Plagiary, sir. +_Dang_. Beg him to walk up.--[_Exit_ SERVANT.] Now, +Mrs. Dangle, Sir Fretful Plagiary is an author to your own taste. +_Mrs. Dang_. I confess he is a favourite of mine, because +everybody else abuses him. +_Sneer_. Very much to the credit of your charity, madam, if +not of your judgment. +_Dang_. But, egad, he allows no merit to any author but +himself, that's the truth on't--though he's my friend. +_Sneer_. Never.--He is as envious as an old maid verging on +the desperation of six and thirty; and then the insidious +humility with which he seduces you to give a free opinion on any +of his works, can be exceeded only by the petulant arrogance with +which he is sure to reject your observations. +_Dang_. Very true, egad--though he's my friend. +_Sneer_. Then his affected contempt of all newspaper +strictures; though, at the same time, he is the sorest man alive, +and shrinks like scorched parchment from the fiery ordeal of true +criticism: yet he is so covetous of popularity, that he had +rather be abused than not mentioned at all. +_Dang_. There's no denying it--though he is my friend. +_Sneer_. You have read the tragedy he has just finished, +haven't you? +_Dang_. Oh, yes; he sent it to me yesterday. +_Sneer_. Well, and you think it execrable, don't you? +_Dang_. Why, between ourselves, egad, I must own--though he +is my friend--that it is one of the most--He's here-- +[_Aside_.]--finished and most admirable perform-- +_Sir Fret. [Without_.] Mr. Sneer with him did you say? +_Enter_ SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY. +_Dang_. Ah, my dear friend!--Egad, we were just speaking of +your tragedy.--Admirable, Sir Fretful, admirable! +_Sneer_. You never did anything beyond it, Sir Fretful-- +never in your life. +_Sir Fret_. You make me extremely happy; for without a +compliment, my dear Sneer, there isn't a man in the world whose +judgment I value as I do yours and Mr. Dangle's. +_Mrs. Dang_. They are only laughing at you, Sir Fretful; for +it was but just now that-- +_Dang_. Mrs. Dangle!--Ah, Sir Fretful, you know Mrs. +Dangle.--My friend Sneer was rallying just now:--he knows how she +admires you, and-- +_Sir Fret_. O Lord, I am sure Mr. Sneer has more taste and +sincerity than to--[_Aside_.] A damned double-faced fellow! +_Dang_. Yes, yes--Sneer will jest--but a better humoured-- +_Sir Fret_. Oh, I know-- +_Dang_. He has a ready turn for ridicule--his wit costs him +nothing. +_Sir Fret_. No, egad--or I should wonder how he came by it. +[_Aside_.] +_Mrs. Dang_. Because his jest is always at the expense of +his friend. [_Aside_.] +_Dang_. But, Sir Fretful, have you sent your play to the +managers yet?--or can I be of any service to you? +_Sir Fret_. No, no, I thank you: I believe the piece had +sufficient recommendation with it.--I thank you though.--I sent +it to the manager of Covent Garden Theatre this morning. +_Sneer_. I should have thought now, that it might have been +cast (as the actors call it) better at Drury Lane. +_Sir Fret_. O Lud! no--never send a play there while I live--hark'ee! +[_Whispers_ SNEER.] +_Sneer_. Writes himself!--I know he does. +_Sir Fret_. I say nothing--I take away from no man's merit--am +hurt at no man's good fortune--I say nothing.--But this I +will say--through all my knowledge of life, I have observed--that +there is not a passion so strongly rooted in the human heart as +envy. +_Sneer_. I believe you have reason for what you say, indeed. +_Sir Fret_. Besides--I can tell you it is not always so safe +to leave a play in the hands of those who write themselves. +_Sneer_. What, they may steal from them, hey, my dear +Plagiary? +_Sir Fret_. Steal!--to be sure they may; and, egad, serve +your best thoughts as gypsies do stolen children, disfigure them +to make 'em pass for their own. +_Sneer_. But your present work is a sacrifice to Melpomene, +and he, you know, never-- +_Sir Fret_. That's no security: a dexterous plagiarist may +do anything. Why, sir, for aught I know, he might take out some +of the best things in my tragedy, and put them into his own +comedy. +_Sneer_. That might be done, I dare be sworn. +_Sir Fret_. And then, if such a person gives you the least +hint or assistance, he is devilish apt to take the merit of the +whole-- +_Dang_. If it succeeds. +_Sir Fret_. Ay, but with regard to this piece, I think I can +hit that gentleman, for I can safely swear he never read it. +_Sneer_. I'll tell you how you may hurt him more. +_Sir Fret_. How? +_Sneer_. Swear he wrote it. +_Sir Fret_. Plague on't now, Sneer, I shall take it ill!--I +believe you want to take away my character as an author. +_Sneer_. Then I am sure you ought to be very much obliged to +me. +_Sir Fret_. Hey!--sir!-- +_Dang_. Oh, you know, he never means what he says. +_Sir Fret_. Sincerely then--do you like the piece? +_Sneer_. Wonderfully! +_Sir Fret_. But come, now, there must be something that you +think might be mended, hey?--Mr. Dangle, has nothing struck you? +_Dang_. Why, faith, it is but an ungracious thing for the +most part, to-- +_Sir Fret_. With most authors it is just so, indeed; they +are in general strangely tenacious! But, for my part, I am never +so well pleased as when a judicious critic points out any defect +to me; for what is the purpose of showing a work to a friend, if +you don't mean to profit by his opinion? +_Sneer_. Very true.--Why, then, though I seriously admire +the piece upon the whole, yet there is one small objection; +which, if you'll give me leave, I'll mention. +_Sir Fret_. Sir, you can't oblige me more. +_Sneer_. I think it wants incident. +_Sir Fret_. Good God! you surprise me!--wants incident! +_Sneer_. Yes; I own I think the incidents are too few. +_Sir Fret_. Good God! Believe me, Mr. Sneer, there is no +person for whose judgment I have a more implicit deference. But I +protest to you, Mr. Sneer, I am only apprehensive that the +incidents are too crowded.--My dear Dangle, how does it strike +you? +_Dang_. Really I can't agree with my friend Sneer. I think +the plot quite sufficient; and the four first acts by many +degrees the best I ever read or saw in my life. If, I might +venture to suggest anything, it is that the interest rather falls +off in the fifth. +_Sir Fret_. Rises, I believe you mean, sir. +_Dang_. No, I don't, upon my word. +_Sir Fret_. Yes, yes, you do, upon my soul!--it certainly +don't fall off, I assure you.--No, no; it don't fall off. +_Dang_. Now, Mrs. Dangle, didn't you say it struck you in +the same light? +_Mrs. Dang_. No, indeed, I did not.--I did not see a fault +in any part of the play, from the beginning to the end. +_Sir Fret_. Upon my soul, the women are the best judges +after all! +_Mrs. Dang_. Or, if I made any objection, I am sure it was +to nothing in the piece; but that I was afraid it was on the +whole, a little too long. +_Sir Fret_. Pray, madam, do you speak as to duration of +time; or do you mean that the story is tediously spun out? +_Mrs. Dang_. O Lud! no.--I speak only with reference to the +usual length of acting plays. +_Sir Fret_. Then I am very happy--very happy indeed-- +because the play is a short play, a remarkably short play. I +should not venture to differ with a lady on a point of taste; but +on these occasions, the watch, you know, is the critic. +_Mrs. Dang_. Then, I suppose, it must have been Mr. Dangle's +drawling manner of reading it to me. +_Sir Fret_. Oh, if Mr. Dangle read it, that's quite another +affair!--But I assure you, Mrs. Dangle, the first evening you can +spare me three hours and a half, I'll undertake to read you the +whole, from beginning to end, with the prologue and epilogue, and +allow time for the music between the acts. +_Mrs. Dang_. I hope to see it on the stage next. +_Dang_. Well, Sir Fretful, I wish you may be able to get rid +as easily of the newspaper criticisms as you do of ours. +_Sir Fret_. The newspapers! Sir, they are the most +villainous--licentious--abominable--infernal.--Not that I ever +read them--no--I make it a rule never to look into a newspaper. +_Dang_. You are quite right; for it certainly must hurt an +author of delicate feelings to see the liberties they take. +_Sir Fret_. No, quite the contrary! their abuse is, in fact, +the best panegyric--I like it of all things. An author's +reputation is only in danger from their support. +_Sneer_. Why, that's true--and that attack, now, on you the +other day-- +_Sir Fret_. What? where? +_Dang_. Ay, you mean in a paper of Thursday: it was +completely ill-natured, to be sure. +_Sir Fret_. Oh so much the better.--Ha! Ha! Ha! I wouldn't +have it otherwise. +_Dang_. Certainly it is only to be laughed at; for-- +_Sir Fret_. You don't happen to recollect what the fellow +said, do you? +_Sneer_. Pray, Dangle--Sir Fretful seems a little anxious-- +_Sir Fret_. O Lud, no!--anxious!--not I--not the least.-- +I--but one may as well hear, you know. +_Dang_. Sneer, do you recollect?--[_Aside to_ SNEER.] +Make out something. +_Sneer_. [_Aside to_ DANGLE.] I will.--[_Aloud_.] +Yes, yes, I remember perfectly. +_Sir Fret_. Well, and pray now--not that it signifies--what +might the gentleman say? +_Sneer_. Why, he roundly asserts that you have not the +slightest invention or original genius whatever; though you are +the greatest traducer of all other authors living. +_Sir Fret_. Ha! ha! ha!--very good! +_Sneer_. That as to comedy, you have not one idea of your +own, he believes, even in your commonplace-book--where stray +jokes and pilfered witticisms are kept with as much method as the +ledger of the lost and stolen office. +_Sir Fret_. Ha! ha! ha!--very pleasant! +_Sneer_. Nay, that you are so unlucky as not to have the +skill even to steal with taste:--but that you glean from the +refuse of obscure volumes, where more judicious plagiarists have +been before you; so that the body of your work is a composition +of dregs and sentiments--like a bad tavern's worst wine. +_Sir Fret_. Ha! ha! +_Sneer_. In your more serious efforts, he says, your bombast +would be less intolerable, if the thoughts were ever suited to +the expression; but the homeliness of the sentiment stares +through the fantastic encumbrance of its fine language, like a +clown in one of the new uniforms! +_Sir Fret_. Ha! ha! +_Sneer_. That your occasional tropes and flowers suit the +general coarseness of your style, as tambour sprigs would a +ground of linsey-woolsey; while your imitations of Shakspeare +resemble the mimicry of Falstaff's page, and are about as near +the standard as the original. +_Sir Fret_. Ha! +_Sneer_. In short, that even the finest passages you steal +are of no service to you; for the poverty of your own language +prevents their assimilating; so that they lie on the surface like +lumps of marl on a barren moor, encumbering what it is not in +their power to fertilize! +_Sir Fret_. [_After great agitation_.] Now, another +person would be vexed at this! +_Sneer_. Oh! but I wouldn't have told you--only to divert +you. +_Sir Fret_. I know it--I am diverted.--Ha! ha! ha!--not the +least invention!--Ha! ha! ha!--very good!--very good! +_Sneer_. Yes--no genius! ha! ha! ha! +_Dang_. A severe rogue! ha! ha! ha! But you are quite right, +Sir Fretful, never to read such nonsense. +_Sir Fret_. To be sure--for if there is anything to one's +praise, it is a foolish vanity to be gratified at it; and, if it +is abuse--why one is always sure to hear of it from one damned +good-natured friend or other! +_Enter_ SERVANT. +_Ser_. Sir, there is an Italian gentleman, with a French +interpreter, and three young ladies, and a dozen musicians, who +say they are sent by Lady Rondeau and Mrs. Fugue. +_Dang_. Gadso! they come by appointment!--Dear Mrs. Dangle, +do let them know I'll see them directly. +_Mrs. Dang_. You know, Mr. Dangle, I shan't understand a +word they say. +_Dang_. But you hear there's an interpreter. +_Mrs. Dang_. Well, I'll try to endure their complaisance +till you come. +[_Exit_.] +_Ser_. And Mr. Puff, sir, has sent word that the last +rehearsal is to be this morning, and that he'll call on you +presently. +_Dang_. That's true--I shall certainly be at home.-- +[_Exit_ SERVANT.]--now, Sir Fretful, if you have a mind to +have justice done you in the way of answer, egad, Mr. Puff's your +man. +_Sir Fret_. Psha! sir, why should I wish to have it +answered, when I tell you I am pleased at it? +_Dang_. True, I had forgot that. But I hope you are not +fretted at what Mr. Sneer-- +_Sir Fret_. Zounds! no, Mr. Dangle; don't I tell you these +things never fret me in the least? +_Dang_. Nay, I only thought-- +_Sir Fret_. And let me tell you, Mr. Dangle, 'tis damned +affronting in you to suppose that I am hurt when I tell you I am +not. +_Sneer_. But why so warm, Sir Fretful? +_Sir Fret_. Gad's life! Mr. Sneer, you are as absurd as +Dangle: how often must I repeat it to you, that nothing can vex +me but your supposing it possible for me to mind the damned +nonsense you have been repeating to me!--let me tell you, if you +continue to believe this, you must mean to insult me, gentlemen-- +and, then, your disrespect will affect me no more than the +newspaper criticisms--and I shall treat it with exactly the same +calm indifference and philosophic contempt--and so your servant. +[_Exit.] +Sneer_. Ha! ha! ha! poor Sir Fretful! Now will he go and vent +his philosophy in anonymous abuse of all modern critics and +authors.--But, Dangle, you must get your friend Puff to take me +to the rehearsal of his tragedy. +_Dang_. I'll answer for't, he'll thank you for desiring it. +But come and help me to judge of this musical family: they are +recommended by people of consequence, I assure you. +_Sneer_. I am at your disposal the whole morning!--but I +thought you had been a decided critic in music as well as in +literature. +_Dang_. So I am--but I have a bad ear. I'faith, Sneer, +though, I am afraid we were a little too severe on Sir Fretful-- +though he is my friend. +_Sneer_. Why, 'tis certain, that unnecessarily to mortify +the vanity of any writer is a cruelty which mere dulness never +can deserve; but where a base and personal malignity usurps the +place of literary emulation, the aggressor deserves neither +quarter nor pity. +_Dang_. That's true, egad!--though he's my friend! + +SCENE II.--_A drawing-room in_ DANGLE'S _House._ +MRS. DANGLE, SIGNOR PASTICCIO RITORNELLO, SIGNORE PASTICCIO +RITORNELLO, INTERPRETER, _and_ MUSICIANS _discovered_. +_Interp_. Je dis, madame, j'ai l'honneur to introduce et +de vous demander votre protection pour le Signor Pasticcio +Ritornello et pour sa charmante famille. +_Signor Past_. Ah! vosignoria, not vi preghiamo di +favoritevi colla vostra protezione. +_1 Signora Past_. Vosignoria fatevi questi grazie. +_2 Signora Past_. Si, signora. +_Interp_. Madame--me interpret.--C'est à dire--in English-- +qu'ils vous prient de leur faire l'honneur-- +_Mrs. Dang_. I say again, gentlemen, I don't understand a +word you say. +_Signor Past_. Questo signore spiegheró-- +_Interp_. Oui--me interpret.--Nous avons les lettres de +recommendation pour Monsieur Dangle de-- +_Mrs. Dang_. Upon my word, sir, I don't understand you. +_Signor Past_. La Contessa Rondeau è nostra padrona. +_3 Signora Past_. Si, padre, et Miladi Fugue. +_Interp_. O!--me interpret.--Madame, ils disent--in English--Qu'ils +ont l'honneur d'être protégés de ces dames.--You +understand? +_Mrs. Dang_. No, sir,--no understand! +_Enter_ DANGLE _and_ SNEER. +_Interp_. Ah, voici, Monsieur Dangle! +_All Italians_. Ah! Signor Dangle! +_Mrs. Dang_. Mr. Dangle, here are two very civil gentlemen +trying to make themselves understood, and I don't know which is +the interpreter. +_Dang_. Eh, bien! +[_The_ INTERPRETER _and_ SIGNOR PASTICCIO _here speak +at the same time_.] +_Interp_. Monsieur Dangle, le grand bruit de vos talens pour +la critique, et de votre intérêt avec messieurs les directeurs à +tous les théâtres-- +_Signor Past_. Vosignoria siete si famoso par la vostra +conoscenza, e vostra interessa colla le direttore da-- +_Dang_. Egad, I think the interpreter is the hardest to be +understood of the two! +_Sneer_. Why, I thought, Dangle, you had been an admirable +linguist! +_Dang_. So I am, if they would not talk so damned fast. +_Sneer_. Well, I'll explain that--the less time we lose in +bearing them the better--for that, I suppose, is what they are +brought here for. +[_Speaks to_ SIGNOR PASTICCIO_--they sing trios, &c.,_ +DANGLE _beating out of time.] +Enter_ SERVANT _and whispers_ DANGLE. +_Dang_. Show him up.--[_Exit_ SERVANT.] Bravo! +admirable! bravissimo! admirablissimo!--Ah! Sneer! where will you +find voices such as these in England? +_Sneer_. Not easily. +_Dang_. But Puff is coming.--Signor and little signoras +obligatissimo!--Sposa Signora Danglena--Mrs. Dangle, shall I beg +you to offer them some refreshments, and take their address in +the next room. +[_Exit_ MRS. DANGLE _with_ SIGNOR PASTICCIO, SIGNORE +PASTICCIO, MUSICIANS, _and_ INTERPRETER, +_ceremoniously._] +_Re-enter_ SERVANT. +_Ser_. Mr. Puff, sir. [_Exit_.] +_Enter_ PUFF. +_Dang_. My dear Puff! +_Puff_. My dear Dangle, how is it with you? +_Dang_. Mr. Sneer, give me leave to introduce Mr. Puff to +you. +_Puff_. Mr. Sneer is this?--Sir, he is a gentleman whom I +have long panted for the honour of knowing--a gentleman whose +critical talents and transcendent judgment-- +_Sneer_. Dear Sir-- +_Dang_. Nay, don't be modest, Sneer; my friend Puff only +talks to you in the style of his profession. +_Sneer_. His profession. +_Puff_. Yes, sir; I make no secret of the trade I follow: +among friends and brother authors, Dangle knows I love to be +frank on the subject, and to advertise myself _viva voce_.-- +I am, sir, a practitioner in panegyric, or, to speak more +plainly, a professor of the art of puffing, at your service--or +anybody else's. +_Sneer_. Sir, you are very obliging!--I believe, Mr. Puff, I +have often admired your talents in the daily prints. +_Puff_. Yes, sir, I flatter myself I do as much business in +that way as any six of the fraternity in town.--Devilish hard +work all the summer, friend Dangle,--never worked harder! But, +hark'ee,--the winter managers were a little sore, I believe. +_Dang_. No; I believe they took it all in good part. +_Puff_. Ay! then that must have been affectation in them: +for, egad, there were some of the attacks which there was no +laughing at! +_Sneer_. Ay, the humorous ones.--But I should think, Mr. +Puff, that authors would in general be able to do this sort of +work for themselves. +_Puff_. Why, yes--but in a clumsy way. Besides, we look on +that as an encroachment, and so take the opposite side. I dare +say, now, you conceive half the very civil paragraphs and +advertisements you see to be written by the parties concerned, or +their friends? No such thing: nine out of ten manufactured by me +in the way of business. +_Sneer_. Indeed! +_Puff_. Even the auctioneers now--the auctioneers, I say--though +the rogues have lately got some credit for their language--not +an article of the merit theirs: take them out of their +pulpits, and they are as dull as catalogues!--No, sir; 'twas I +first enriched their style--'twas I first taught them to crowd +their advertisements with panegyrical superlatives, each epithet +rising above the other, like the bidders in their own auction +rooms! From me they learned to inlay their phraseology with +variegated chips of exotic metaphor: by me too their inventive +faculties were called forth:--yes, sir, by me they were +instructed to clothe ideal walls with gratuitous fruits--to +insinuate obsequious rivulets into visionary groves--to teach +courteous shrubs to nod their approbation of the grateful soil; +or on emergencies to raise upstart oaks, where there never had +been an acorn; to create a delightful vicinage without the +assistance of a neighbour; or fix the temple of Hygeia in the +fens of Lincolnshire! +_Dang_. I am sure you have done them infinite service; for +now, when a gentleman is ruined, he parts with his house with +some credit. +_Sneer_. Service! if they had any gratitude, they would +erect a statue to him; they would figure him as a presiding +Mercury, the god of traffic and fiction, with a hammer in his +hand instead of a caduceus.--But pray, Mr. Puff, what first put +you on exercising your talents in this way? +_Puff_. Egad, sir, sheer necessity!--the proper parent of an +art so nearly allied to invention. You must know, Mr. Sneer, that +from the first time I tried my hand at an advertisement, my +success was such, that for some time after I led a most +extraordinary life indeed! +_Sneer_. How, pray? +_Puff_. Sir, I supported myself two years entirely by my +misfortunes. +_Sneer_. By your misfortunes! +_Puff_. Yes, sir, assisted by long sickness, and other +occasional disorders: and a very comfortable living I had of it. +_Sneer_. From sickness and misfortunes! You practised as a +doctor and an attorney at once? +_Puff_. No, egad; both maladies and miseries were my own. +_Sneer_. Hey! what the plague! +_Dang_. 'Tis true, i'faith. +_Puff_. Hark'ee!--By advertisements--. Oh, I understand you. +_Puff_. And, in truth, I deserved what I got! for, I suppose +never man went through such a series of calamities in the same +space of time. Sir, I was five times made a bankrupt, and reduced +from a state of affluence, by a train of unavoidable misfortunes: +then, sir, though a very industrious tradesman, I was twice +burned out, and lost my little all both times: I lived upon those +fires a month. I soon after was confined by a most excruciating +disorder, and lost the use of my limbs: that told very well; for +I had the case strongly attested, and went about to collect the +subscriptions myself. +_Dang_. Egad, I believe that was when you first called on +me. +_Puff_. In November last?--O no; I was at that time a close +prisoner in the Marshalsea, for a debt benevolently contracted to +serve a friend. I was afterwards twice tapped for a dropsy, which +declined into a very profitable consumption. I was then reduced +to--O no--then, I became a widow with six helpless children, +after having had eleven husbands pressed, and being left every +time eight months gone with child, and without money to get me +into an hospital! +_Sneer_. And you bore all with patience, I make no doubt? +_Puff_. Why yes; though I made some occasional attempts at +_felo de se_, but as I did not find those rash actions +answer, I left off killing myself very soon. Well, sir, at last, +what with bankruptcies, fires, gout, dropsies, imprisonments, and +other valuable calamities, having got together a pretty handsome +sum, I determined to quit a business which had always gone rather +against my conscience, and in a more liberal way still to indulge +my talents for fiction and embellishment, through my favourite +channels of diurnal communication--and so, sir, you have my +history. +_Sneer_. Most obligingly communicative indeed! and your +confession, if published, might certainly serve the cause of true +charity, by rescuing the most useful channels of appeal to +benevolence from the cant of imposition. But, surely, Mr. Puff, +there is no great mystery in your present profession? +_Puff_. Mystery, sir! I will take upon me to say the matter +was never scientifically treated nor reduced to rule before. +_Sneer_. Reduced to rule! +_Puff_. O Lud, sir, you are very ignorant, I am afraid!--Yes, +sir,. puffing is of various sorts; the principal are, the +puff direct, the puff preliminary, the puff collateral, the puff +collusive, and the puff oblique, or puff by implication. These +all assume, as circumstances require, the various forms of Letter +to the Editor, Occasional Anecdote, Impartial Critique, +Observation from Correspondent, or Advertisement from the Party. +_Sneer_. The puff direct, I can conceive-- +_Puff_. O yes, that's simple enough! For instance,--a new +comedy or farce is to be produced at one of the theatres (though +by-the-by they don't bring out half what they ought to do)--the +author, suppose Mr. Smatter, or Mr. Dapper, or any particular +friend of mine--very, well; the day before it is to be performed, +I write an account of the manner in which it was received; I have +the plot from the author, and only add--"characters strongly +drawn--highly coloured--hand of a master--fund of genuine humour--mine +of invention--neat dialogue--Attic salt." Then for the +performance--"Mr. Dodd was astonishingly great in the character +of Sir Harry. That universal and judicious actor, Mr. Palmer, +perhaps never appeared to more advantage than in the colonel;--but +it is not in the power of language to do justice to Mr. King: +indeed he more than merited those repeated bursts of applause +which he drew from a most brilliant and judicious audience. As to +the scenery--the miraculous powers of Mr. De Loutherbourg's +pencil are universally acknowledged. In short, we are at a loss +which to admire most, the unrivalled genius of the author, the +great attention and liberality of the managers, the wonderful +abilities of the painter, or the incredible exertions of all the +performers." +_Sneer_. That's pretty well indeed, sir. +_Puff_. Oh, cool!--quite cool!--to what I sometimes do. +_Sneer_. And do you think there are any who are influenced +by this? +_Puff_. O Lud, yes, sir! the number of those who undergo the +fatigue of judging for themselves is very small indeed. +_Sneer_. Well, sir, the puff preliminary. +_Puff_. O, that, sir, does well in the form of a caution. In +a matter of gallantry now--Sir Flimsy Gossamer wishes to be well +with Lady Fanny Fete--he applies to me--I open trenches for him +with a paragraph in the Morning Post.--"It is recommended to the +beautiful and accomplished Lady F four stars F dash E to be on +her guard against that dangerous character, Sir F dash G; who, +however pleasing and insinuating his manners may be, is certainly +not remarkable _for the constancy of his attachments_!"-- +in italics. Here, you see, Sir Flimsy Gossamer is introduced to +the particular notice of Lady Fanny, who perhaps never thought of +him before--she finds herself publicly cautioned to avoid him, +which naturally makes her desirous of seeing him; the observation +of their acquaintance causes a pretty kind of mutual +embarrassment; this produces a sort of sympathy of interest, +which if Sir Flimsy is unable to improve effectually, he at least +gains the credit of having their names mentioned together, by a +particular set, and in a particular way--which nine times out of +ten is the full accomplishment of modern gallantry. +_Dang_. Egad, Sneer, you will be quite an adept in the +business. +_Puff_. Now, Sir, the puff collateral is much used as an +appendage to advertisements, and may take the form of anecdote,-- +"Yesterday, as the celebrated George Bonmot was sauntering down +St. James's Street, he met the lively Lady Mary Myrtle coming out +of the park:--'Good God, Lady Mary, I'm surprised to meet you in +a white jacket,--for I expected never to have seen you, but in a +full-trimmed uniform and a light horseman's cap!'--'Heavens, +George, where could you have learned that?'--'Why,' replied the +wit, ' I just saw a print of you, in a new publication called +the Camp Magazine; which, by-the-by, is a 'devilish clever thing, +and is sold at No. 3, on the right hand of the way, two doors +from the printing-office, the corner of Ivy Lane, Paternoster +Row, price only one shilling.'" +_Sneer_. Very ingenious indeed! +_Puff_. But the puff collusive is the newest of any; for it +acts in the disguise of determined hostility. It is much used by +bold booksellers and enterprising poets.--"An indignant +correspondent observes, that the new poem called Beelsebub's +Cotillon, or Proserpine's Fête Champêtre, is one of the most +unjustifiable performances he ever read. The severity with which +certain characters are handled is quite shocking: and as there +are many descriptions in it too warmly coloured for female +delicacy, the shameful avidity with which this piece is bought by +all people of fashion is a reproach on the taste of the times, +and a disgrace to the delicacy of the age." Here you see the two +strongest inducements are held forth; first, that nobody ought to +read it; and secondly, that everybody buys it: on the strength of +which the publisher boldly prints the tenth edition, before he +had sold ten of the first; and then establishes it by threatening +himself with the pillory, or absolutely indicting himself for +_scan. mag._ +_Dang_. Ha! ha! ha!--'gad, I know it is so. +_Puff_. As to the puff oblique, or puff by implication, it +is too various and extensive to be illustrated by an instance: it +attracts in titles and resumes in patents; it lurks in the +limitation of a subscription, and invites in the assurance of +crowd and incommodation at public places; it delights to draw +forth concealed merit, with a most disinterested assiduity; and +sometimes wears a countenance of smiling censure and tender +reproach. It has a wonderful memory for parliamentary debates, +and will often give the whole speech of a favoured member with +the most flattering accuracy. But, above all, it is a great +dealer in reports and suppositions. It has the earliest +intelligence of intended preferments that will reflect honour on +the patrons; and embryo promotions of modest gentlemen, who know +nothing of the matter themselves. It can hint a ribbon for +implied services in the air of a common report; and with the +carelessness of a casual paragraph, suggest officers into +commands, to which they have no pretension but their wishes. +This, sir, is the last principal class of the art of puffing--an +art which I hope you will now agree with me is of the highest +dignity, yielding a tablature of benevolence and public spirit; +befriending equally trade, gallantry, criticism, and politics: +the applause of genius--the register of charity--the triumph of +heroism--the self-defence of contractors--the fame of orators--and +the gazette of ministers. +_Sneer_. Sir, I am completely a convert both to the importance +and ingenuity of your profession; and now, sir, there is +but one thing which can possibly increase my respect for you, and +that is, your permitting me to be present this morning at the +rehearsal of your new trage-- +_Puff_. Hush, for heaven's sake!--_My_ tragedy!--Egad, +Dangle, I take this very ill: you know how apprehensive I am of +being known to be the author. +_Dang_. I'faith I would not have told--but it's in the +papers, and your name at length in the Morning Chronicle. +_Puff_. Ah! those damned editors never can keep a secret I +--Well, Mr. Sneer, no doubt you will do me great honour--I shall +be infinitely happy--highly flattered--Dang. I believe it must +be near the time--shall we go together? +_Puff_. No; it will, not be yet this hour, for they are +always late at that theatre: besides, I must meet you there, for +I have some little matters here to send to the papers, and a few +paragraphs to scribble before I go.--[_Looking at +memorandums._] Here is _A conscientious Baker, on the +subject of the Army Bread; and a Detester of visible Brick-work, +in favour of the new invented Stucco_; both in the style of +Junius, and promised for to-morrow. The Thames navigation too is +at a stand. Misomud or Anti-shoal must go to work again +directly.--Here too are some political memorandums--I see; ay-- +_To take Paul Jones and get the Indiamen out of the Shannon-- +reinforce Byron--compel the Dutch to_--so!--I must do that in +the evening papers, or reserve it for the Morning Herald; for I +know that I have undertaken to-morrow, besides, to establish the +unanimity of the fleet in the Public Advertiser, and to shoot +Charles Fox in the Morning Post.--So, egad, I ha'n't a moment to +lose. +_Dang_. Well, we'll meet in the Green Room. +[Exeunt severally. + + + + +ACT II. + +SCENE I.--The Theatre before the Curtain. +_Enter_ DANGLE, PUFF, and SNEER. +_Puff_: No, no, sir; what Shakspeare says of actors may be +better applied to the purpose of plays; they ought to be the +abstract and brief chronicles of the time. Therefore when +history, and particularly the history of our own country, +furnishes anything like a case in point, to the time in which an +author writes, if he knows his own interest, he will take +advantage of it; so, sir, I call my tragedy The Spanish Armada; +and have laid the scene before Tilbury Fort. +_Sneer_. A most happy thought, certainly I Dang. Egad it +was--I told you so. But, pray now, I don't understand how you +have contrived to introduce any love into it. +_Puff_. Love! oh, nothing so easy! for it is a received +point among poets, that where history gives you a good heroic +outline for a play, you may fill up with a little love at your +own discretion: in doing which, nine times out of ten, you only +make up a deficiency in the private history of the times. Now, I +rather think I have done this with some success. +_Sneer_. No scandal about Queen Elizabeth, I hope? +_Puff_. O Lud! no, no;--I only suppose the governor of +Tilbury Fort's daughter to be in love with the son of the Spanish +admiral. +_Sneer_. Oh, is that all! +_Dang_. Excellent, i'faith! I see at once. But won't this +appear rather improbable? +_Puff_. To be sure it will--but what the plague! a play is +not to show occurrences that happen every day, but things just so +strange, that though they never did, they might happen. +_Sneer_. Certainly nothing is unnatural, that is not +physically impossible. +_Puff_. Very true--and for that matter Don Ferolo +Whiskerandos, for that's the lover's name, might have been over +here in the train of the Spanish ambassador, or Tilburina, for +that is the lady's name, might have been in love with him, from +having heard his character, or seen his picture; or from knowing +that he was the last man in the world she ought to be in love +with--or for any other good female reason.--However; sir, the +fact is, that though she is but a knight's daughter, egad! she is +in love like any princess! +_Dang_. Poor young lady! I feel for her already! for I can +conceive how great the conflict must be between her passion and +her duty; her love for her country, and her love for Don Ferolo +Whiskerandos! +_Puff_. Oh, amazing!--her poor susceptible heart is swayed +to and fro by contending passions like-- +_Enter_ UNDER PROMPTER. +_Und. Promp_. Sir, the scene is set, and everything is ready +to begin, if you please. +_Puff_. Egad, then we'll lose no time. +_Und. Promp_. Though, I believe, sir, you will find it very +short, for all the performers have profited by the kind +permission you granted them. +_Puff_. Hey! what? +_Und. Promp_. You know, sir, you gave them leave to cut out +or omit whatever they found heavy or unnecessary to the plot, and +I must own they have taken very liberal advantage of your +indulgence. +_Puff_. Well, well.--They are in general very good judges, +and I know I am luxuriant.--Now, Mr. Hopkins, as soon as you +please. +_Und. Promp_. [_To the_ Orchestra.] Gentlemen, will you +play a few bars of something, just to-- +_Puff_. Ay, that's right; for as we have the scenes and +dresses, egad, we'll go to't, as if it was the first night's +performance,--but you need not mind stopping between the acts-- +[_Exit_ UNDER PROMPTER.--Orchestra _play--then the bell + +rings_.] Soh! stand clear; gentlemen. Now you know there will +be a cry of down! down!--Hats off!--Silence!--Then up curtain, +and let us see what our painters have done for us. [_Curtain +rises_.] + +SCENE II.--_Tilbury Fort_. +"_Two_ SENTINELS _discovered asleep_." +_Dang_. Tilbury Fort!--very fine indeed! +_Puff_. Now, what do you think I open with? +_Sneer_. Faith, I can't guess-- +_Puff_. A clock.--Hark!--[_Clock strikes_.] I open with +a clock striking, to beget an awful attention in the audience: it +also marks the time, which is four o'clock in the morning, and +saves a description of the rising sun, and a great deal about +gilding the eastern hemisphere. +_Pang_. But pray, are the sentinels to be asleep? +_Puff_. Fast as watchmen. +_Sneer_. Isn't that odd though at such an alarming crisis? +_Puff_. To be sure it is,--but smaller things must give way +to a striking scene at the opening; that's a rule. And the case +is, that two great men are coming to this very spot to begin the +piece; now it is not to be supposed they would open their lips, +if these fellows were watching them; so, egad, I must either have +sent them off their posts, or set them asleep. +_Sneer_. Oh, that accounts for it. But tell us, who are +these coming? +_Puff_. These are they--Sir Walter Raleigh, and Sir +Christopher Hatton. You'll know Sir Christopher by his turning +out his toes--famous, you know, for his dancing. I like to +preserve all the little traits of character.--Now attend. +"_Enter_ SIR WALTER RALEIGH and SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON. +_Sir Christ_. True, gallant Raleigh!" +_Dang_. What, they had been talking before? +_Puff_. O yes; all the way as they came along.--[To the +actors.] I beg pardon, gentlemen, but these are particular +friends of mine, whose remarks may be of great service to us.-- +[_To_ SNEER _and_ DANGLE.] Don't mind interrupting them +whenever anything strikes you. +"_Sir Christ_. + + True, gallant Raleigh + But oh, thou champion of thy country's fame, + There is a question which I yet must ask + A question which I never ask'd before-- + What mean these mighty armaments? + This general muster? and this throng of chiefs?" + +_Sneer_. Pray, Mr. Puff, how came Sir Christopher Hatton +never to ask that question before? +_Puff_. What before the play began?-how the plague could he? +_Dang_. That's true, i'faith! +_Puff_. But you will hear what he thinks of the matter. +_Sir Christ_. + + "Alas I my noble friend, when I behold + Yon tented plains in martial symmetry + Array'd; when I count o'er yon glittering lines + Of crested warriors, where the proud steeds' neigh, + And valour-breathing trumpet's shrill appeal, + Responsive vibrate on my listening ear; + When virgin majesty herself I view, + Like her protecting Pallas, veil'd in steel, + With graceful confidence exhort to arms! + When, briefly, all I hear or see bears stamp + Of martial vigilance and stern defence, + I cannot but surmise--forgive, my friend, + If the conjecture's rash--I cannot but + Surmise the state some danger apprehends!" + +_Sneer_. A very cautious conjecture that. +_Puff_. Yes, that's his character; not to give an opinion +but on secure grounds.--Now then. +_Sir Walt_. + + "O most accomplish'd Christopher!"-- + +_Puff_. He calls him by his Christian name, to show that +they are on the most familiar terms. +_Sir Walt_. O most accomplish'd Christopher! I find Thy +staunch sagacity still tracks the future, In the fresh print of +the o'ertaken past." +_Puff_. Figurative! +_Sir Walt_. Thy fears are just. +_Sir Christ_. But where? whence? when? and what The danger +is,--methinks I fain would learn. +_Sir Walt_. You know, my friend, scarce two revolving suns, +And three revolving moons, have closed their course Since haughty +Philip, in despite of peace, With hostile hand hath struck at +England's trade. +_Sir Christ_. I know it well. +_Sir Walt_. Philip, you know, is proud Iberia's king! +_Sir Christ_. He is. +_Sir Walt_. His subjects in base bigotry And Catholic +oppression held;-while we, You know, the Protestant persuasion +hold. +_Sir Christ_. We do. +_Sir Walt_. You know, beside, his boasted armament, The +famed Armada, by the Pope baptized, With purpose to invade these +realms-- +_Sir Christ_. Is sailed, Our last advices so report. +_Sir Walt_. While the Iberian admiral's chief hope, His +darling son-- +_Sir Christ_. Ferolo Whiskerandos hight-- +_Sir Walt_. The same--by chance a prisoner hath been ta'en, +And in this fort of Tilbury-- +_Sir Christ_. Is now Confined--'tis true, and oft from yon +tall turret's top I've mark'd the youthful Spaniard's haughty +mien Unconquer'd, though in chains. +_Sir Walt_. You also know-- +Dang. Mr. Puff, as he knows all this, why does Sir Walter go on +telling him? +_Puff_. But the audience are not supposed to know any-thing +of the matter, are they? +Sneer. True; but I think you manage ill: for there certainly +appears no reason why Sir Walter should be so communicative. +_Puff_. 'Fore Gad, now, that is one of the most ungrateful +observations I ever heard!--for the less inducement he has to +tell all this, the more, I think, you ought to be obliged to him; +for I am sure you'd know nothing of the matter without it. +_Dang_. That's very true, upon my word. +_Puff_. But you will find he was not going on. +"_Sir Christ_. Enough, enough--'tis plain--and I no more Am +in amazement lost!"-- +_Puff_. Here, now you see, Sir Christopher did not in fact +ask any one question for his own information. +_Sneer_. No, indeed: his has been a most disinterested +curiosity! +_Dang_. Really, I find that we are very much obliged to them +both. +_Puff_. To be sure you are. Now then for the commander-in-chief, +the Earl of Leicester, who, you know, was no favourite but +of the queen's.--We left off--_in amazement lost!_ +"_Sir Christ_. Am in amazement lost. But, see where noble +Leicester comes supreme in honours and command. +_Sir Walt_. And yet, methinks, At such a time, so perilous, +so fear'd, That staff might well become an abler grasp. +_Sir Christ_. And so, by Heaven! think I; but soft, he's +here!" +_Puff_. Ay, they envy him! +_Sneer_. But who are these with him? +_Puff_. Oh! very valiant knights: one is the governor of the +fort, the other the master of the horse. And now, I think, you +shall hear some better language: I was obliged to be plain and +intelligible in the first scene, because there was so much matter +of fact in it; but now, i'faith, you have trope, figure, and +metaphor, as plenty as noun-substantives. +"_Enter_ EARL OF LEICESTER, GOVERNOR, MASTER OF THE HORSE, +KNIGHTS, &c. +_Leic_. + + How's this, my friends! is't thus your new-fledged zeal, + And plumed valour moulds in roosted sloth? + Why dimly glimmers that heroic flame, + Whose reddening blaze, by patriot spirit fed, + Should be the beacon of a kindling realm? + Can the quick current of a patriot heart + Thus stagnate in a cold and weedy converse, + Or freeze in tideless inactivity? + No! rather let the fountain of your valour + Spring through each stream of enterprise, + Each petty channel of conducive daring, + Till the full torrent of your foaming wrath + O'erwhelm the flats of sunk hostility!" + +_Puff_. There it is--followed up! +"_Sir Walt_. + + No more!--the freshening breath of thy rebuke + Hath fill'd the swelling canvas of our souls! + And thus, though fate should cut the cable of + [_All take hands._] + Our topmost hopes, in friendship's closing line + We'll grapple with despair, and if we fall, + We'll fall in glory's wake! + +_Leic_. + + There spoke old England's genius! + Then, are we all resolved? + +_All_. + + We are--all resolved. + +_Leic_. + + To conquer--or be free? + + +_All_. + + To conquer, or be free. + +_Leic_. + + All? + +_All_. + + All." + +_Dang. Nem. con_. egad! +_Puff_. O yes!--where they do agree on the stage, their +unanimity is wonderful! +"_Leic_. + + Then let's embrace--and now--[_Kneels._" + +_Sneer_. What the plague, is he going to pray? +_Puff_. Yes; hush!--in great emergencies, there Is nothing +like a prayer. +"_Leic_. + + O mighty Mars!" + +_Dang_. But why should he pray to Mars? +_Puff_. Hush! +"_Leic_. + + If in thy homage bred, + Each point of discipline I've still observed; + Nor but by due promotion, and the right + Of service, to the rank of major-general + Have risen; assist thy votary now! + +_Gov_. + + Yet do not rise--hear me! [_Kneels._] + +_Mast_. + + And me! [_Kneels.] + +Knight_. + + And me! [_Kneels.] + +Sir Walt_. + +And me! [_Kneels.] + +Sir Christ_. + + And me! [_Kneels.]" + +_Puff_. Now pray altogether. +"_All_. + + Behold thy votaries submissive beg, + That thou wilt deign to grant them all they ask; + Assist them to accomplish all their ends, + And sanctify whatever means they use + To gain them!" + +_Sneer_. A very orthodox quintetto! +_Puff_. Vastly well, gentlemen!--Is that well managed or +not? Have you such a prayer as that on the stage? +_Sneer_. Not exactly. +_Leic._ [_To_ PUFF.] But, sir, you haven't settled how +we are to get off here. +_Puff_. You could not go off kneeling, could you? +_Sir Walt._ [_To_ PUFF.] O no, sir; impossible! +_Puff_. It would have a good effect i'faith, if you could +exeunt praying!--Yes, and would vary the established mode of +springing off with a glance at the pit. +_Sneer_. Oh, never mind, so as you get them off!--I'll +answer for it, the audience won't care how. +_Puff_. Well, then, repeat the last line standing, and go +off the old way. +"_All_. And sanctify whatever means we use To gain them. +[_Exeunt_.]" +_Dang_. Bravo! a fine exit. +_Sneer_. Well, really, Mr. Puff-- +_Puff_. Stay a moment! +"_The_ SENTINELS _get up. +_1 Sent_. All this shall to Lord Burleigh's ear. +_2 Sent_. 'Tis meet it should. [_Exeunt_.]" +_Dang_. Hey!--why, I thought those fellows had been asleep? +_Puff_. Only a pretence; there's the art of it: they were +spies of Lord Burleigh's. +_Sneer_. But isn't it odd they never were taken notice of, +not even by the commander-in-chief? +_Puff_. O Lud, sir! if people who want to listen, or +overhear, were not always connived at in a tragedy, there would +be no carrying on any plot in the world. +_Dang_. That's certain. +_Puff_. But take care, my dear Dangle! the morning gun is +going to fire. [_Cannon fires_.] +_Dang_. Well, that will have a fine effect! +_Puff_. I think so, and helps to realize the scene.-- +[_Cannon twice_.] What the plague! three morning guns! there +never is but one!--Ay, this is always the way at the theatre: +give these fellows a good thing, and they never know when to have +done with it.--You have no more cannon to fire? +_Und. Promp_. [_Within_.] No, sir. +_Puff_. Now, then, for soft music. +_Sneer_. Pray, what's that for? +_Puff_. It shows that Tilburina is coming!--nothing introduces +you a heroine like soft music. Here she comes! +_Dang_. And her confidant, I suppose? +_Puff_. To be sure! Here they are--inconsolable to the +minuet in Ariadne! [Soft music.] +"_Enter_ TILNURINA _and_ CONFIDANT. +_Tilb_. + + Now has the whispering breath of gentle morn + Bid Nature's voice and Nature's beauty rise; + While orient Phoebus, with unborrow'd hues, + Clothes the waked loveliness which all night slept + In heavenly drapery I Darkness is fled. + Now flowers unfold their beauties to the sun, + And, blushing, kiss the beam he sends to wake them-- + The striped carnation, and the guarded rose, + The vulgar wallflower, and smart gillyflower, + The polyanthus mean--the dapper daisy, + Sweet-William, and sweet marjoram--and all + The tribe of single and of double pinks! + Now, too, the feather'd warblers tune their notes + Around, and charm the listening grove. The lark! + The linnet! chaffinch! bullfinch! goldfinch! greenfinch! + But O, to me no joy can they afford! + Nor rose, nor wallflower, nor smart gillyflower, + Nor polyanthus mean, nor dapper daisy, + Nor William sweet, nor marjoram--nor lark, + Linnet nor all the finches of the grove!" + +_Puff_. Your white handkerchief, madam!-- +_Tilb_. I thought, sir, I wasn't to use that till _heart-rending +woe_. +_Puff_. O yes, madam, at _the finches of the grove_, if +you please. +"_Tilb_. + + Nor lark, + Linnet, nor all the finches of the grove! [Weeps.] + +_Puff_. Vastly well, madam! _Dang_. Vastly well, +indeed! +"_Tilb_. + + For, O, too sure, heart-rending woe is now + The lot of wretched Tilburina!" + +_Dang_. Oh!--it's too much. +_Sneer_. Oh!--it is indeed. +"_Con_. + + Be comforted, sweet lady; for who knows, + But Heaven has yet some milk-white day in store? + +_Tilb_. Alas! my gentle Nora, Thy tender youth as yet hath +never mourn'd Love's fatal dart. Else wouldst thou know, that +when The soul is sunk in comfortless despair, It cannot taste of +merriment." +_Dang_. That's certain. +"_Con_. But see where your stern father comes It is not meet +that he should find you thus." +_Puff_. Hey, what the plague!--what a cut is here! Why, what +is become of the description of her first meeting with Don +Whiskerandos--his gallant behaviour in the sea-fight--and the +simile of the canary-bird? +_Tilb_. Indeed, sir, you'll find they will not be missed. +_Puff_. Very well, very well! +_Tilb_. [_To_ CONFIDANT.] The cue, ma'am, if you +please. +"_Con_. It is not meet that he should find you thus. +_Tilb_. Thou counsel'st right; but 'tis no easy task For +barefaced grief to wear a mask of joy. +_Enter_. GOVERNOR.. +_Gov_. How's this!--in tears?--O Tilburina, shame! Is this a +time for maudling tenderness, And Cupid's baby woes?--Hast thou +not heard That haughty Spain's pope-consecrated fleet Advances to +our shores, while England's fate, Like a clipp'd guinea, trembles +in the scale? +_Tilb_. Then is the crisis of my fate at hand! I see the +fleets approach--I see--" +_Puff_. Now, pray, gentlemen, mind. This is one of the most +useful figures we tragedy writers have, by which a hero or +heroine, in consideration of their being often obliged to +overlook things that are on the stage, is allowed to hear and see +a number of things that are not. +_Sneer_. Yes; a kind of poetical second-sight! +_Puff_. Yes.--Now then, madam. +"_Tilb_. I see their decks Are clear'd!--I see the signal +made! The line is form'd!--a cable's length asunder! I see the +frigates station'd in the rear; And now, I hear the thunder of +the guns! I hear the victor's shouts--I also hear The vanquish'd +groan!--and now 'tis smoke-and now I see the loose sails shiver in +the wind! I see--I see--what soon you'll see-- +_Gov_. Hold, daughter! peace! this love hath turn'd thy +brain The Spanish fleet thou canst not see--because--It is not +yet in sight!" +_Dang_. Egad, though, the governor seems to make no +allowance for this poetical figure you talk of. +_Puff_. No, a plain matter-of-fact man;--that's his +character. +"_Tilb_. But will you then refuse his offer? +_Gov_. I must--I will--I can--I ought--I do. +_Tilb_. Think what a noble price. +_Gov_. No more--you urge in vain. +_Tilb_. His liberty is all he asks." +_Sneer_. All who asks, Mr. Puff? Who is-- +_Puff_. Egad, sir, I can't tell! Here has been such cutting +and slashing, I don't know where they have got to myself. +_Tilb_. Indeed, sir, you will find it will connect very +well. "--And your reward secure." +_Puff_. Oh, if they hadn't been so devilish free with their +cutting here, you would have found that Don Whiskerandos has been +tampering for his liberty, and has persuaded Tilburina to make +this proposal to her father. And now, pray observe the +conciseness with which the argument is conducted. Egad, the +_pro_ and _con_ goes as smart as hits in a fencing +match. It is indeed a sort of small-sword-logic, which we have +borrowed from the French. +"_Tilb_. A retreat in Spain! +_Gov_. Outlawry here! +_Tilb_. Your daughter's prayer! +_Gov_. Your father's oath! +_Tilb_. My lover! +_Gov_. My country! +_Tilb_. Tilburina! +_Gov_. England! +_Tilb_. A title! +_Gov_. Honour! +_Tilb_. A pension! +_Gov_. Conscience! +_Tilb_. A thousand pounds! +_Gov_. Ha! thou hast touch'd me nearly!" +_Puff_. There you see-she threw in _Tilburina_. Quick, +parry Carte with _England_! Ha! thrust in tierce _a +title_!--parried by _honour_. Ha! _a pension_ over +the arm!--put by by _conscience_. Then flankonade with _a +thousand pounds_--and a palpable hit, egad! +"_Tilb_. Canst thou--Reject the suppliant, and the daughter +too? +_Gov_. No more; I would not hear thee plead in vain: The +father softens--but the governor Is fix'd! [_Exit_.]" +_Dang_. Ay, that antithesis of persons is a most established +figure. +"_Tilb_. 'Tis well,--hence then, fond hopes,--fond passion +hence; Duty, behold I am all over thine-- +_Whisk_. [_Without_.] Where is my love--my-- +_Tilb_. Ha! +_Enter_ DON FEROLO WHISKERANDOS. +_Whisk_. My beauteous enemy!--" +_Puff_. O dear, ma'am, you must start a great deal more than +that! Consider, you had just determined in favour of duty--when, +in a moment, the sound of his voice revives your passion-- +overthrows your resolution--destroys your obedience. If you don't +express all that in your start, you do nothing at all. +_Tilb_. Well, we'll try again. +_Dang_. Speaking from within has always a fine effect. +_Sneer_. Very. +"_Whisk_. My conquering Tilburina! How! is't thus We meet? +why are thy looks averse? what means That falling tear--that +frown of boding woe? Ha! now indeed I am a prisoner! Yes, now I +feel the galling weight of these Disgraceful chains--which, cruel +Tilburina! Thy doting captive gloried in before.--But thou art +false, and Whiskerandos is undone! +_Tilb_. O no! how little dost thou know thy Tilburina! +_Whisk_. Art thou then true?--Begone cares, doubts, and +fears, I make you all a present to the winds; And if the winds +reject you--try the waves." +_Puff_. The wind, you know, is the established receiver of +all stolen sighs, and cast-off griefs and apprehensions. +"_Tilb_. Yet must we part!--stern duty seals our doom Though +here I call yon conscious clouds to witness, Could I pursue the +bias of my soul, All friends, all right of parents, I'd disclaim, +And thou, my Whiskerandos, shouldst be father And mother, +brother, cousin, uncle, aunt, And friend to me! +_Whisk_. Oh, matchless excellence! and must we part? Well, +if--we must--we must--and in that case The less is said the +better." +_Puff_. Heyday! here's a cut!--What, are all the mutual +protestations out? +_Tilb_. Now, pray, sir, don't interrupt us just here: you +ruin our feelings. +_Puff_. Your feelings!--but, zounds, my feelings, ma'am! +_Sneer_. No, pray don't interrupt them. +"_Whisk_. One last embrace. +_Tilb_. Now,--farewell, for ever. +_Whisk_. For ever! +_Tilb_. Ay, for ever! [_Going_.]" +_Puff_. 'Sdeath and fury!--Gad's life!--sir! madam! if you +go out without the parting look, you might as well dance out. +Here, here! +_Con_. But pray, sir, how am I to get off here? +_Puff_. You! pshaw! what the devil signifies how you get +off! edge away at the top, or where you will--[_Pushes the_ +CONFIDANT _off_.] Now, ma'am, you see-- +_Tilb_. We understand you, sir. +"Ay, for ever. +_Both_. Oh! [_Turning back, and exeunt.--Scene +closes_.]" +_Dang_. Oh, charming! +_Puff_. Hey!--'tis pretty well, I believe: you see I don't +attempt to strike out anything new--but I take it I improve on +the established modes. +_Sneer_. You do, indeed! But pray is not Queen Elizabeth to +appear? +_Puff_. No, not once--but she is to be talked of for ever; +so that, egad, you'll think a hundred times that she is on the +point of coming in. +_Sneer_. Hang it, I think it's a pity to keep her in the +green-room all the night. +_Puff_. O no, that always has a fine effect--it keeps up +expectation. +_Dang_. But are we not to have a battle? +_Puff_. Yes, yes, you will have a battle at last: but, egad, +it's not to be by land, but by sea--and that is the only quite +new thing in the piece. +_Dang_. What, Drake at the Armada, hey? +_Puff_. Yes, i'faith--fire-ships and all; then we shall end +with the procession. Hey, that will do, I think?, +_Sneer_. No doubt on't. +_Puff_. Come, we must not lose time; so now for the under-plot. +_Sneer_. What the plague, have you another plot? +_Puff_. O Lord, yes; ever while you live have two plots to +your tragedy. The grand point in managing them is only to let +your under-plot have as little connection with your main-plot as +possible.--I flatter myself nothing can be more distinct than +mine; for as in my chief plot the characters are all great +people, I have laid my under-plot in low life, and as the former +is to end in deep distress, I make the other end as happy as a +farce.--Now, Mr. Hopkins, as soon as you please. +_Enter_ UNDER PROMPTER. +_Under Promp_. Sir, the carpenter says it is impossible you +can go to the park scene yet. +_Puff_. The park scene! no! I mean the description scene +here, in the wood. +_Under Promp_. Sir, the performers have cut it out. +_Puff_. Cut it out! +_Under Promp_. Yes, sir. +_Puff_. What! the whole account of Queen Elizabeth? +_Under Promp_. Yes, sir. +_Puff_. And the description of her horse and side-saddle? +_Under Promp_. Yes, sir. +_Puff_. So, so; this is very fine indeed!--Mr. Hopkins, how +the plague could you suffer this? +_Mr. Hop_. [_Within._] Sir, indeed the pruning-knife-- +_Puff_. The pruning-knife--zounds!--the axe! Why, here has +been such lopping and topping, I shan't have the bare trunk of my +play left presently!--Very well, sir--the performers must do as +they please; but, upon my soul, I'll print it every word. +_Sneer_. That I would, indeed. +_Puff_. Very well, sir; then we must go on.--Zounds! I would +not have parted with the description of the horse!--Well, sir, +go on.--Sir, it was one of the finest and most laboured things.-- +Very well, sir; let them go on.--There you had him and his +accoutrements, from the bit to the crupper.--Very well, sir; we +must go to the park scene. +_Under Promp_. Sir, there is the point: the carpenters say, +that unless there is some business put in here before the drop, +they sha'n't have time to clear away the fort, or sink Gravesend +and the river. +_Puff_. So! this is a pretty dilemma, truly!--Gentlemen, you +must excuse me--these fellows will never be ready, unless I go +and look after them myself. +_Sneer_. O dear, sir, these little things will happen. +_Puff_. To cut out this scene!--but I'll print it--egad, +I'll print it every word! [_Exeunt_.] + + + + +ACT III. + +SCENE I.--_The Theatre, before the curtain._ +_Enter_ PUFF, SNEER, _and_ DANGLE. +_Puff_. Well, we are ready; now then for the justices. +[_Curtain rises._] +"JUSTICES, CONSTABLES, &c., _discovered_." +_Sneer_. This, I suppose, is a sort of senate scene. +_Puff_. To be sure; there has not been one yet. +_Dang_. It is the under-plot, isn't it? +_Puff_. Yes.--What, gentlemen, do you mean to go at once to +the discovery scene? +_Just_. If you please, sir. +_Puff_. Oh, very well!--Hark'ee, I don't choose to say +anything more; but, i'faith they have mangled my play in a most +shocking manner. +_Dang_. It's a great pity! +_Puff_. Now, then, Mr. justice, if you please. +"_Just_. Are all the volunteers without? +_Const_. They are. Some ten in fetters, and some twenty +drunk. +_Just_. Attends the youth, whose most opprobrious fame And +clear convicted crimes have stamp'd him soldier? +_Const_. He waits your pleasure; eager to repay The best +reprieve that sends him to the fields Of glory, there to raise +his branded hand In honour's cause. +_Just_. 'Tis well--'tis justice arms him! Oh! may he now +defend his country's laws With half the spirit he has broke them +all! If 'tis your worship's pleasure, bid him enter. +_Const_. I fly, the herald of your will. [_Exit._]" +_Puff_. Quick, sir. +_Sneer_. But, Mr. Puff, I think not only the justice, but +the clown seems to talk in as high a style as the first hero +among them. +_Puff_. Heaven forbid they should not in a free country!-- +Sir, I am not for making slavish distinctions, and giving all the +fine language to the upper sort of people. +_Dang_. That's very noble in you, indeed. +"_Enter_ JUSTICE'S LADY." +_Puff_. Now, pray mark this scene. +"_Lady_ Forgive this interruption, good my love; But as I +just now pass'd a prisoner youth, Whom rude hands hither lead, +strange bodings seized My fluttering heart, and to myself I said, +An' if our Tom had lived, he'd surely been This stripling's +height! +_Just_. Ha! sure some powerful sympathy directs Us both-- +_Enter_ CONSTABLE _with_ Son. +What is thy name? +_Son_. My name is Tom Jenkins--_alias_ have I none-- +Though orphan'd, and without a friend! +_Just_. Thy parents? +_Son_. My father dwelt in Rochester--and was, As I have +heard--a fishmonger--no more." +_Puff_. What, sir, do you leave out the account of your +birth, parentage, and education? +_Son_ They have settled it so, sir, here. +_Puff_. Oh! oh! +"_Lady_. How loudly nature whispers to my heart Had he no +other name? +_Son_. I've seen a bill Of his sign'd Tomkins, creditor. +_Just_. This does indeed confirm each circumstance The gipsy +told!--Prepare! +_Son_. I do. +_Just_. No orphan, nor without a friend art thou--I am thy +father; here's thy mother; there Thy uncle--this thy first +cousin, and those Are all your near relations! +_Lady_. O ecstasy of bliss! +_Son_. O most unlook'd for happiness! +_Just_. O wonderful event! [_They faint alternately in +each other's arms_.]" +_Puff_. There, you see, relationship, like murder, will out. +"_Just_. Now let's revive--else were this joy too much! But +come--and we'll unfold the rest within; And thou, my boy, must +needs want rest and food. Hence may each orphan hope, as chance +directs, To find a father--where he least expects! +[_Exeunt_.]" +_Puff_. What do you think of that? +_Dang_. One of the finest discovery-scenes I ever saw!-- +Why, this under-plot would have made a tragedy itself. +_Sneer_. Ay! or a comedy either. +_Puff_. And keeps quite clear you see of the other. +"_Enter_ SCENEMEN, _taking away the seats_." +_Puff_. The scene remains, does it? +_Sceneman_. Yes, sir. +_Puff_. You are to leave one chair, you know.--But it is +always awkward in a tragedy, to have your fellows coming in in +your play-house liveries to remove things.--I wish that could be +managed better.--So now for my mysterious yeoman. +"_Enter_ BEEFEATER. +_Beef_. Perdition catch my soul, but I do love thee." +_Sneer_. Haven't I heard that line before? +_Puff_. No, I fancy not.--Where, pray? +_Dang_. Yes, I think there is something like it in Othello. +_Puff_. Gad! now you put me in mind on't, I believe there +is--but that's of no consequence; all that can be said is, that +two people happened to hit upon the same thought--and Shakspeare +made use of it first, that's all. +_Sneer_. Very true. +_Puff_. Now, sir, your soliloquy--but speak more to the pit, +if you please--the soliloquy always to the pit, that's a rule. +"_Beef_. Though hopeless love finds comfort in despair, It +never can endure a rival's bliss! But soft--I am observed. +[_Exit_.]" +_Dang_. That's a very short soliloquy. +_Puff_. Yes--but it would have been a great deal longer if +he had not been observed. +_Sneer_. A most sentimental Beefeater that, Mr. Puff! +_Puff_. Hark'ee--I would not have you be too sure that he is +a Beefeater. +_Sneer_. What, a hero in disguise? +_Puff_. No matter--I only give you a hint. But now for my +principal character. Here he comes--Lord Burleigh in person! +Pray, gentlemen, step this way--softly--I only hope the Lord High +Treasurer is perfect--if he is but perfect! +"_Enter_ LORD BURLEIGH, _goes slowly to a chair, and +sits._" +_Sneer_. Mr. Puff! +_Puff_. Hush!--Vastly well, sir! vastly well! a most +interesting gravity. +_Dang_. What, isn't he to speak at all? +_Puff_. Egad, I thought you'd ask me that!--Yes, it is a +very likely thing--that a minister in his situation, with the +whole affairs of the nation on his head, should have time to +talk!--But hush! or you'll put him out. +_Sneer_. Put him out; how the plague can that be, if he's +not going to say anything? +_Puff_. There's the reason! why, his part is to think; and +how the plague do you imagine he can think if you keep talking? +_Dang_. That's very true, upon my word! +"LORD BURLEIGH _comes forward, shakes his head, and exit_." +_Sneer_. He is very perfect indeed! Now, pray what did he +mean by that? +_Puff_. You don't take it? +_Sneer_. No, I don't, upon my soul. +_Puff_. Why, by that shake of the head, he gave you to +understand that even though they had more justice in their cause, +and wisdom in their measures--yet, if there was not a greater +spirit shown on the part of the people, the country would at last +fall a sacrifice to the hostile ambition of the Spanish monarchy. +_Sneer_. The devil! did he mean all that by shaking his +head? +_Puff_. Every word of it--if he shook his head as I taught +him. +_Dang_. Ah! there certainly is a vast deal to be done on the +stage by dumb show and expressions of face; and a judicious +author knows how much he may trust to it. +_Sneer_. Oh, here are some of our old acquaintance. +"_Enter_ SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON _and_ SIR WALTER +RALEIGH. +_Sir Christ_. My niece and your niece too! By Heaven! +there's witchcraft in't.--He could not else Have gain'd their +hearts.--But see where they approach Some horrid purpose lowering +on their brows! +_Sir Walt_. Let us withdraw and mark them. [_They +withdraw_.]" +_Sneer_. What is all this? +_Puff_. Ah! here has been more pruning!--but the fact is, +these two young ladies are also in love with Don Whiskerandos.-- +Now, gentlemen, this scene goes entirely for what we call +situation and stage effect, by which the greatest applause may be +obtained, without the assistance of language, sentiment, or +character: pray mark! +"_Enter the two_ NIECES. +_1st Niece_. Ellena here! She is his scorn as much as I-- +that is Some comfort still !" +_Puff_. O dear, madam, you are not to say that to her face! +--Aside, ma'am, aside.--The whole scene is to be aside. +"_1st Niece_. She is his scorn as much as I--that is Some +comfort still. [_Aside_.] +_2nd Niece_. I know he prizes not Pollina's love; But +Tilburina lords it o'er his heart. [_Aside_.] +_1st Niece_. But see the proud destroyer of my peace. +Revenge is all the good I've left. [_Aside_.] +_2nd Niece_. He comes, the false disturber of my quiet. Now +vengeance do thy worst. [_Aside_.] +_Enter_ DON FEROLO WHISKERANDOS. +_Whisk_. O hateful liberty--if thus in vain I seek my +Tilburina! +_Both Nieces_. And ever shalt! +SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON _and_ SIR WALTER RALEIGH _come +forward_. +_Sir Christ. and Sir Walt_. Hold! we will avenge you. +_Whisk_. Hold _you_--or see your nieces bleed! [_The +two_ NIECES _draw their two daggers to strike_ +WHISKERANDOS: _the two_ UNCLES _at the instant, with their +two swords drawn, catch their two_ NIECES' _arms, and turn +the points of their swords to_ WHISKERANDOS, _who +immediately draws two daggers, and holds them to the two_ +NIECES' _bosoms_.]" +_Puff._ There's situation for you! there's an heroic group! +--You see the ladies can't stab Whiskerandos--he durst not strike +them, for fear of their uncles--the uncles durst not kill him, +because of their nieces.--I have them all at a dead lock!--for +every one of them is afraid to let go first. +_Sneer._ Why, then they must stand there for ever! +_Puff._ So they would, if I hadn't a very fine contrivance +for't.--Now mind-- +"_Enter_ BEEFEATER, _with his halbert_. +_Beef._ In the queen's name I charge you all to drop Your +swords and daggers! +[_They drop their swords and daggers_."] +_Sneer._ That is a contrivance indeed! +_Puff._ Ay--in the queen's name. +_Sir Christ._ Come, niece! +_Sir Walt._ Come, niece! [_Exeunt with the two_ +NIECES.] +_Whisk._ What's he, who bids us thus renounce our guard? +_Beef._ Thou must do more--renounce thy love! +_Whisk._ Thou liest--base Beefeater! +_Beef._ Ha! hell! the lie! By Heaven thou'st roused the lion +in my heart! Off, yeoman's habit!--base disguise! off! off! +[_Discovers himself by throwing off his upper dress, and +appearing in a very fine waistcoat._] Am I a Beefeater now? Or +beams my crest as terrible as when In Biscay's Bay I took thy +captive sloop?" +_Puff._ There, egad! he comes out to be the very captain of +the privateer who had taken Whiskerandos prisoner--and was +himself an old lover of Tilburina's. +_Dang._ Admirably managed, indeed! +_Puff._ Now, stand out of their way. +"_Whisk._ I thank thee, Fortune, that hast thus bestowed A +weapon to chastise this insolent. [_Takes up one of the +swords_.] +_Beef._ I take thy challenge, Spaniard, and I thank thee, +Fortune, too! [_Takes up the other sword_.]" +_Dang._ That's excellently contrived!--It seems as if the +two uncles had left their swords on purpose for them. +_Puff._ No, egad, they could not help leaving them. +"_Whisk_. Vengeance and Tilburina! +_Beef_. Exactly so-- +[_They fight--and after the usual number of wounds given_, +WHISKERANDOS _falls_.] +_Whisk_. O cursed parry!--that last thrust in tierce Was +fatal.--Captain, thou hast fenced well! And Whiskerandos quits +this bustling scene For all eter-- +_Beef_.--nity--he would have added, but stern death Cut +short his being, and the noun at once!" +_Puff_. Oh, my dear sir, you are too slow: now mind me.-- +Sir, shall I trouble you to die again? +"_Whisk_. And Whiskerandos quits this bustling scene For all +eter-- +_Beef_.--nity--he would have added,--" +_Puff_. No, sir--that's not it--once more, if you please. +_Whisk_. I wish, sir, you would practise this without me--I +can't stay dying here all night. +_Puff_. Very well; we'll go over it by-and-by.--[_Exit_ +WHISKERANDOS.] I must humour these gentlemen! +"_Beef_. Farewell, brave Spaniard! and when next--" +_Puff_. Dear sir, you needn't speak that speech, as the body +has walked off. +_Beef_. That's true, sir--then I'll join the fleet. +_Puff_. If you please.--[Exit BEEFEATER.] Now, who comes on? +"_Enter_ GOVERNOR, _with his hair properly disordered_. +_Gov_. A hemisphere of evil planets reign! And every planet +sheds contagious frenzy! My Spanish prisoner is slain! my +daughter, Meeting the dead corse borne along, has gone Distract! +[_A loud flourish of trumpets_.] But hark! I am summoned to +the fort: Perhaps the fleets have met! amazing crisis! O +Tilburina! from thy aged father's beard Thou'st pluck'd the few +brown hairs which time had left! [Exit.]" +_Sneer_. Poor gentleman! +_Puff_. Yes--and no one to blame but his daughter! +_Dang_. And the planets-- +_Puff_. True.--Now enter Tilburina! +_Sneer._ Egad, the business comes on quick here. +_Puff._ Yes, sir--now she comes in stark mad in white satin. +_Sneer._ Why in white satin? +_Puff._ O Lord, sir--when a heroine goes mad, she always +goes into white satin.--Don't she, Dangle? +_Dang._ Always--it's a rule. +_Puff._ Yes--here it is--[_Looking at the book_.] +"Enter Tilburina stark mad in white satin, and her confidant +stark mad in white linen." +"_Enter_ TILBURINA _and_ CONFIDANT, _mad, according +to custom_." +_Sneer._ But, what the deuce! is the confidant to be mad +too? +_Puff._ To be sure she is: the confidant is always to do +whatever her mistress does; weep when she weeps, smile when she +smiles, go mad when she goes mad.--Now, Madam Confidant--but keep +your madness in the background, if you please. +"_Tilb._ The wind whistles--the moon rises--see, They have +kill'd my squirrel in his cage: Is this a grasshopper?--Ha! no; +it is my Whiskerandos--you shall not keep him--I know you have +him in your pocket--An oyster may be cross'd in love!--who says +A whale's a bird?--Ha! did you call, my love?--He's here! he's +there!--He's everywhere! Ah me! he's nowhere! [_Exit_.]" +_Puff._ There, do you ever desire to see anybody madder than +that? +_Sneer._ Never, while I live! +_Puff._ You observed how she mangled the metre? +_Dang._ Yes,--egad, it was the first thing made me suspect +she was out of her senses! +_Sneer._ And pray what becomes of her? +_Puff._ She is gone to throw herself into the sea, to be +sure--and that brings us at once to the scene of action, and so +to my catastrophe--my sea-fight, I mean. +_Sneer._ What, you bring that in at last? +_Puff._ Yes, yes--you know my play is called _The Spanish +Armada_; otherwise, egad, I have no occasion for the battle at +all.--Now then for my magnificence!--my battle!--my noise!--and +my procession!--You are all ready? +_Und. Promp_. [_Within._] Yes, sir. +_Puff_. Is the Thames dressed? +"_Enter_ THAMES _with two_ ATTENDANTS." +_Thames_. Here I am, sir. +_Puff_. Very well, indeed!--See, gentlemen, there's a river +for you!--This is blending a little of the masque with my +tragedy--a new fancy, you know--and very useful in my case; for +as there must be a procession, I suppose Thames, and all his +tributary rivers, to compliment Britannia with a fête in honour +of the victory. +_Sneer_. But pray, who are these gentlemen in green with +him? +_Puff_. Those?--those are his banks. +_Sneer_. His banks? +_Puff_. Yes, one crowned with alders, and the other with a +villa!--you take the allusions?--But hey! what the plague!--you +have got both your banks on one side.--Here, sir, come round.-- +Ever while you live, Thames, go between your banks.--[_Bell +rings._] There; so! now for't!--Stand aside, my dear +friends!--Away, Thames! +[_Exit_ THAMES _between his banks._] +[_Flourish of drums, trumpets, cannon, &c., &'c. Scene changes +to the sea--the fleets engage--the music plays--"Britons strike +home."--Spanish fleet destroyed by fire-ships, &c.--English fleet +advances--music plays, "Rule Britannia."--The procession of all +the English rivers, and their tributaries, with their emblems, +&c., begins with Handel's water music, ends with a chorus to the +march in Judas' Maccabaeus.--During this scene,_ PUFF +_directs and applauds everything--then_ +_Puff_. Well, pretty well--but not quite perfect. So, ladies +and gentlemen, if you please, we'll rehearse this piece again to-morrow. +[_Curtain drops._] + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Scarborough and the Critic, by Sheridan + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SCARBOROUGH AND THE CRITIC *** + +This file should be named 7108-8.txt or 7108-8.zip + +Produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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If you are not located in the United States, you'll have +to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. + +Title: A Trip to Scarborough and The Critic + +Author: Richard Brinsley Sheridan + +Release Date: December, 2004 [EBook #7108] +Last updated: November 14, 2019 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A TRIP TO SCARBOROUGH AND THE CRITIC *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + + + +</pre> + +<h1>A Trip to Scarborough</h1> + +<h4>and</h4> + +<h1>The Critic</h1> + +<h2>by Richard Brinsley Sheridan</h2> + +<hr /> + +<h3>Contents</h3> + +<table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap01">A Trip to Scarborough</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap02">The Critic</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap01"></a>A Trip to Scarborough</h2> + +<h4><i>A COMEDY</i></h4> + +<h4>DRAMATIS PERSONÆ</h4> + +<p class="center"> +AS ORIGINALLY ACTED AT DRURY LANE THEATRE IN 1777 +</p> + +<p> +LORD FOPPINGTON <i>Mr. Dodd.</i><br/> +SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY <i>Mr. Moody.</i><br/> +COLONEL TOWNLY <i>Mr. Brereton.</i><br/> +LOVELESS <i>Mr. Smith.</i><br/> +TOM FASHION <i>Mr. J. Palmer.</i><br/> +LA VAROLE <i>Mr. Burton.</i><br/> +LORY <i>Mr. Baddeley.</i><br/> +PROBE <i>Mr. Parsons.</i><br/> +MENDLEGS <i>Mr. Norris.</i><br/> +JEWELLER <i>Mr. Lamash</i><br/> +SHOEMAKER <i>Mr. Carpenter.</i><br/> +TAILOR <i>Mr. Parker.</i><br/> +AMANDA <i>Mrs. Robinson.</i><br/> +BERINTHIA <i>Miss Farren.</i><br/> +MISS HOYDEN <i>Mrs. Abington.</i><br/> +MRS. COUPLER <i>Mrs. Booth.</i><br/> +NURSE <i>Mrs. Bradshaw.</i><br/> +</p> + +<p>Sempstress, Postilion, Maid, <i>and</i> Servants. +</p> + +<h4>SCENE—SCARBOROUGH AND ITS NEIGHBOURHOOD.</h4> + +<h4>PROLOGUE SPOKEN BY MR. KING</h4> + +<p> +What various transformations we remark,<br/> +From east Whitechapel to the west Hyde Park!<br/> +Men, women, children, houses, signs, and fashions,<br/> +State, stage, trade, taste, the humours and the passions;<br/> +The Exchange, ’Change Alley, wheresoe’er you’re ranging,<br/> +Court, city, country, all are changed or changing<br/> +The streets, some time ago, were paved with stones,<br/> +Which, aided by a hackney-coach, half broke your bones.<br/> +The purest lovers then indulged in bliss;<br/> +They ran great hazard if they stole a kiss.<br/> +One chaste salute!—the damsel cried—Oh, fie!<br/> +As they approach’d—slap went the coach awry—<br/> +Poor Sylvia got a bump, and Damon a black eye.<br/> +But now weak nerves in hackney-coaches roam,<br/> +And the cramm’d glutton snores, unjolted, home;<br/> +Of former times, that polish’d thing a beau,<br/> +Is metamorphosed now from top to toe;<br/> +Then the full flaxen wig, spread o’er the shoulders,<br/> +Conceal’d the shallow head from the beholders.<br/> +But now the whole’s reversed—each fop appears,<br/> +Cropp’d and trimm’d up, exposing head and ears:<br/> +The buckle then its modest limits knew,<br/> +Now, like the ocean, dreadful to the view,<br/> +Hath broke its bounds, and swallowed up the shoe:<br/> +The wearer’s foot like his once fine estate,<br/> +Is almost lost, the encumbrance is so great.<br/> +Ladies may smile—are they not in the plot?<br/> +The bounds of nature have not they forgot?<br/> +Were they design’d to be, when put together,<br/> +Made up, like shuttlecocks, of cork and feather?<br/> +Their pale-faced grandmammas appeared with grace<br/> +When dawning blushes rose upon the face;<br/> +No blushes now their once-loved station seek;<br/> +The foe is in possession of the cheek!<br/> +No heads of old, too high in feather’d state,<br/> +Hinder’d the fair to pass the lowest gate;<br/> +A church to enter now, they must be bent,<br/> +If ever they should try the experiment.<br/> +</p> + +<p> As change thus circulates throughout the nation,<br/> +Some plays may justly call for alteration;<br/> +At least to draw some slender covering o’er,<br/> +That graceless wit, which was too bare before<br/> +Those writers well and wisely use their pens,<br/> +Who turn our wantons into Magdalens;<br/> +And howsoever wicked wits revile ’em,<br/> +We hope to find in you their stage asylum.<br/> +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3>ACT I.</h3> + +<h4>SCENE I.—<i>The Hall of an Inn</i>. </h4> + +<p><i>Enter TOM FASHION and LORY, POSTILION following with a portmanteau</i>. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Lory, pay the postboy, and take the portmanteau. +</p> + +<p>LORY.<br/> +[<i>Aside to TOM FASHION</i>.] Faith, sir, we had better let the postboy take +the portmanteau and pay himself. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +[<i>Aside to LORY</i>.] Why, sure, there’s something left in it! +</p> + +<p>LORY.<br/> +Not a rag, upon my honour, sir! We ate the last of your wardrobe at New +Malton—and, if we had had twenty miles further to go, our next meal must +have been of the cloak-bag. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Why, ’sdeath, it appears full! +</p> + +<p>LORY.<br/> +Yes, sir—I made bold to stuff it with hay, to save appearances, and look +like baggage. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +[<i>Aside</i>.] What the devil shall I do?—[<i>Aloud</i>.] Hark’ee, +boy, what’s the chaise? +</p> + +<p>POSTILION.<br/> +Thirteen shillings, please your honour. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Can you give me change for a guinea? +</p> + +<p>POSTILION.<br/> +Oh, yes, sir. +</p> + +<p>LORY.<br/> +[<i>Aside</i>.] So, what will he do now?—[<i>Aloud</i>.] Lord, sir, you +had better let the boy be paid below. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Why, as you say, Lory, I believe it will be as well. +</p> + +<p>LORY.<br/> +Yes, yes, I’ll tell them to discharge you below, honest friend. +</p> + +<p>POSTILION.<br/> +Please your honour, there are the turnpikes too. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Ay, ay, the turnpikes by all means. +</p> + +<p>POSTILION.<br/> +And I hope your honour will order me something for myself. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +To be sure; bid them give you a crown. +</p> + +<p>LORY.<br/> +Yes, yes—my master doesn’t care what you charge them—so get +along, you— +</p> + +<p>POSTILION.<br/> +And there’s the ostler, your honour. +</p> + +<p>LORY.<br/> +Psha! damn the ostler!—would you impose upon the gentleman’s +generosity?—[<i>Pushes him out</i>.] A rascal, to be so cursed ready with +his change! +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Why, faith, Lory, he had nearly posed me. +</p> + +<p>LORY.<br/> +Well, sir, we are arrived at Scarborough, not worth a guinea! I hope +you’ll own yourself a happy man—you have outlived all your cares. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +How so, sir? +</p> + +<p>LORY.<br/> +Why, you have nothing left to take care of. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Yes, sirrah, I have myself and you to take care of still. +</p> + +<p>LORY.<br/> +Sir, if you could prevail with somebody else to do that for you, I fancy we +might both fare the better for it. But now, sir, for my Lord Foppington, your +elder brother. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Damn my eldest brother. +</p> + +<p>LORY.<br/> +With all my heart; but get him to redeem your annuity, however. Look you, sir; +you must wheedle him, or you must starve. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Look you, sir; I would neither wheedle him, nor starve. +</p> + +<p>LORY.<br/> +Why, what will you do, then? +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Cut his throat, or get someone to do it for me. +</p> + +<p>LORY.<br/> +Gad so, sir, I’m glad to find I was not so well acquainted with the +strength of your conscience as with the weakness of your purse. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Why, art thou so impenetrable a blockhead as to believe he’ll help me +with a farthing? +</p> + +<p>LORY.<br/> +Not if you treat him <i>de haut en bas</i>, as you used to do. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Why, how wouldst have me treat him? +</p> + +<p>LORY.<br/> +Like a trout—tickle him. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +I can’t flatter. +</p> + +<p>LORY.<br/> +Can you starve? +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Yes. +</p> + +<p>LORY.<br/> +I can’t. Good by t’ye, sir. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Stay—thou’lt distract me. But who comes here? My old friend, +Colonel Townly. +</p> + +<p><i>Enter</i> COLONEL TOWNLY. +</p> + +<p> My dear Colonel, I am rejoiced to meet you here. +</p> + +<p>COLONEL TOWNLY.<br/> +Dear Tom, this is an unexpected pleasure! What, are you come to Scarborough to +be present at your brother’s wedding? +</p> + +<p>LORY.<br/> +Ah, sir, if it had been his funeral, we should have come with pleasure. +</p> + +<p>COLONEL TOWNLY.<br/> +What, honest Lory, are you with your master still? +</p> + +<p>LORY.<br/> +Yes, sir; I have been starving with him ever since I saw your honour last. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Why, Lory is an attached rogue; there’s no getting rid of him. +</p> + +<p>LORY.<br/> +True, sir, as my master says, there’s no seducing me from his +service.—[<i>Aside</i>.] Till he’s able to pay me my wages. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Go, go, sir, and take care of the baggage. +</p> + +<p>LORY.<br/> +Yes, sir, the baggage!—O Lord! [<i>Takes up the portmanteau</i>.] I +suppose, sir, I must charge the landlord to be very particular where he stows +this? +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Get along, you rascal.—[<i>Exit</i> LORY <i>with the portmanteau</i>.] +But, Colonel, are you acquainted with my proposed sister-in-law? +</p> + +<p>COLONEL TOWNLY.<br/> +Only by character. Her father, Sir Tunbelly Clumsy, lives within a quarter of a +mile of this place, in a lonely old house, which nobody comes near. She never +goes abroad, nor sees company at home; to prevent all misfortunes, she has her +breeding within doors; the parson of the parish teaches her to play upon the +dulcimer, the clerk to sing, her nurse to dress, and her father to +dance;—in short, nobody has free admission there but our old +acquaintance, Mother Coupler, who has procured your brother this match, and is, +I believe, a distant relation of Sir Tunbelly’s. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +But is her fortune so considerable? +</p> + +<p>COLONEL TOWNLY.<br/> +Three thousand a year, and a good sum of money, independent of her father, +beside. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +’Sdeath! that my old acquaintance, Dame Coupler, could not have thought +of me, as well as my brother, for such a prize. +</p> + +<p>COLONEL TOWNLY.<br/> +Egad, I wouldn’t swear that you are too late. His lordship, I know, +hasn’t yet seen the lady—and, I believe, has quarrelled with his +patroness. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +My dear Colonel, what an idea have you started! +</p> + +<p>COLONEL TOWNLY.<br/> +Pursue it, if you can, and I promise you shall have my assistance; for, besides +my natural contempt for his lordship, I have at present the enmity of a rival +towards him. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +What, has he been addressing your old flame, the widow Berinthia? +</p> + +<p>COLONEL TOWNLY.<br/> +Faith, Tom, I am at present most whimsically circumstanced. I came here a month +ago to meet the lady you mention; but she failing in her promise, I, partly +from pique and partly from idleness, have been diverting my chagrin by offering +up incense to the beauties of Amanda, our friend Loveless’s wife. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +I never have seen her, but have heard her spoken of as a youthful wonder of +beauty and prudence. +</p> + +<p>COLONEL TOWNLY.<br/> +She is so indeed; and, Loveless being too careless and insensible of the +treasure he possesses, my lodging in the same house has given me a thousand +opportunities of making my assiduities acceptable; so that, in less than a +fortnight, I began to bear my disappointment from the widow with the most +Christian resignation. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +And Berinthia has never appeared? +</p> + +<p>COLONEL TOWNLY.<br/> +Oh, there’s the perplexity! for, just as I began not to care whether I +ever saw her again or not, last night she arrived. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +And instantly resumed her empire. +</p> + +<p>COLONEL TOWNLY.<br/> +No, faith—we met—but, the lady not condescending to give me any +serious reasons for having fooled me for a month, I left her in a huff. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Well, well, I’ll answer for it she’ll soon resume her power, +especially as friendship will prevent your pursuing the other too far. But my +coxcomb of a brother is an admirer of Amanda’s too, is he? +</p> + +<p>COLONEL TOWNLY.<br/> +Yes, and I believe is most heartily despised by her. But come with me, and you +shall see her and your old friend Loveless. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +I must pay my respects to his lordship—perhaps you can direct me to his +lodgings. +</p> + +<p>COLONEL TOWNLY.<br/> + Come with me; I shall pass by it. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +I wish you could pay this visit for me, or could tell me what I should say to +him. +</p> + +<p>COLONEL TOWNLY.<br/> + Say nothing to him—apply yourself to his bag, his sword, his feather, + his snuff-box; and when you are well with them, desire him to lend you a + thousand pounds, and I’ll engage you prosper. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +’Sdeath and furies! why was that coxcomb thrust into the world before me? +O Fortune, Fortune, thou art a jilt, by Gad! [<i>Exeunt.</i> +</p> + +<h4>SCENE II.—LORD FOPPINGTON’S <i>Dressing-room.</i> </h4> + +<p><i>Enter</i> LORD FOPPINGTON <i>in his dressing-gown, and</i> LA VAROLE. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> + [<i>Aside.</i>] Well, ’tis an unspeakable pleasure to be a man of + quality—strike me dumb! Even the boors of this northern spa have learned + the respect due to a title.—[<i>Aloud.</i>] La Varole! +</p> + +<p>LA VAROLE.<br/> + Milor— +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> + You ha’n’t yet been at Muddymoat Hall, to announce my arrival, + have you? +</p> + +<p>LA VAROLE.<br/> + Not yet, milor. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +Then you need not go till Saturday [<i>Exit</i> LA VAROLE] as I am in no +particular haste to view my intended sposa. I shall sacrifice a day or two more +to the pursuit of my friend Loveless’s wife. Amanda is a charming +creature—strike me ugly! and, if I have any discernment in the world, she +thinks no less of my Lord Foppington. +</p> + +<p><i>Re-enter</i> LA VAROLE. +</p> + +<p>LA VAROLE.<br/> + Milor, de shoemaker, de tailor, de hosier, de sempstress, de peru, be all + ready, if your lordship please to dress. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> + ’Tis well, admit them. +</p> + +<p>LA VAROLE.<br/> + Hey, messieurs, entrez! +</p> + +<p><i>Enter</i> TAILOR, SHOEMAKER, SEMPSTRESS, JEWELLER, <i>and</i> MENDLEGS. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> + So, gentlemen, I hope you have all taken pains to show yourselves masters in + your professions? +</p> + +<p>TAILOR.<br/> +I think I may presume, sir— +</p> + +<p>LA VAROLE.<br/> +Milor, you clown, you! +</p> + +<p>TAILOR.<br/> +My lord—I ask your lordship’s—pardon, my lord. I hope, my +lord, your lordship will be pleased to own I have brought your lordship as +accomplished a suit of clothes as ever peer of England wore, my lord—will +your lordship please to view ’em now? +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +Ay; but let my people dispose the glasses so that I may see myself before and +behind; for I love to see myself all round. [<i>Puts on his clothes</i>.] +</p> + +<p><i>Enter</i> TOM FASHION <i>and</i> LORY. <i>They remain behind, conversing +apart</i>. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Heyday! what the devil have we here? Sure my gentleman’s grown a +favourite at court, he has got so many people at his levee. +</p> + +<p>LORY.<br/> +Sir, these people come in order to make him a favourite at court—they are +to establish him with the ladies. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Good Heaven! to what an ebb of taste are women fallen, that it should be in the +power of a laced coat to recommend a gallant to them? +</p> + +<p>LORY.<br/> +Sir, tailors and hair-dressers debauch all the women. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Thou sayest true. But now for my reception. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +[<i>To</i> TAILOR.] Death and eternal tortures! Sir—I say the coat is too +wide here by a foot. +</p> + +<p>TAILOR.<br/> +My lord, if it had been tighter, ’twould neither have hooked nor +buttoned. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +Rat the hooks and buttons, sir! Can anything be worse than this? As Gad shall +jedge me, it hangs on my shoulders like a chairman’s surtout. +</p> + +<p>TAILOR.<br/> +’Tis not for me to dispute your lordship’s fancy. +</p> + +<p>LORY.<br/> +There, sir, observe what respect does. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Respect! damn him for a coxcomb!—But let’s accost +him.—[<i>Coming forward</i>.] Brother, I’m your humble servant. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +O Lard, Tam! I did not expect you in England. Brother, I’m glad to see +you. But what has brought you to Scarborough, Tam!—[<i>To the</i> +TAILOR.] Look you, sir, I shall never be reconciled to this nauseous +wrapping-gown, therefore pray get me another suit with all possible expedition; +for this is my eternal aversion.—[<i>Exit</i> TAILOR.] Well but, Tam, you +don’t tell me what has driven you to Scarborough.—Mrs. Calico, are +not you of my mind? +</p> + +<p><i>Semp</i>.<br/> +Directly, my lord.—I hope your lordship is pleased with your ruffles? +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +In love with them, stap my vitals!—Bring my bill, you shall be paid +tomorrow. +</p> + +<p><i>Semp</i>.<br/> +I humbly thank your worship. [Exit.] +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +Hark thee, shoemaker, these shoes aren’t ugly, but they don’t fit +me. +</p> + +<p>SHOEMAKER.<br/> +My lord, I think they fit you very well. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +They hurt me just below the instep. +</p> + +<p>SHOEMAKER.<br/> +[<i>Feels his foot</i>.] No, my lord, they don’t hurt you there. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +I tell thee they pinch me execrably. +</p> + +<p>SHOEMAKER.<br/> +Why then, my lord, if those shoes pinch you, I’ll be damned. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +Why, will thou undertake to persuade me I cannot feel? +</p> + +<p>SHOEMAKER.<br/> +Your lordship may please to feel what you think fit, but that shoe does not +hurt you—I think I understand my trade. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +Now, by all that’s good and powerful, thou art an incomprehensive +coxcomb!—but thou makest good shoes, and so I’ll bear with thee. +</p> + +<p>SHOEMAKER.<br/> +My lord, I have worked for half the people of quality in this town these twenty +years, and ’tis very hard I shouldn’t know when a shoe hurts, and +when it don’t. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +Well, pr’ythee be gone about thy business.—[<i>Exit</i> SHOEMAKER.] +Mr. Mendlegs, a word with you.—The calves of these stockings are +thickened a little too much; they make my legs look like a porter’s. +</p> + +<p>MENDLEGS.<br/> +My lord, methinks they look mighty well. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +Ay, but you are not so good a judge of those things as I am—I have +studied them all my life—therefore pray let the next be the thickness of +a crown-piece less. +</p> + +<p>MENDLEGS.<br/> +Indeed, my lord, they are the same kind I had the honour to furnish your +lordship with in town. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +Very possibly, Mr. Mendlegs; but that was in the beginning of the winter, and +you should always remember, Mr. Hosier, that if you make a nobleman’s +spring legs as robust as his autumnal calves, you commit a monstrous +impropriety, and make no allowance for the fatigues of the winter. +[<i>Exit—</i>MENDLEGS.] +</p> + +<p>JEWELLER.<br/> +I hope, my lord, these buckles have had the unspeakable satisfaction of being +honoured with your lordship’s approbation? +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +Why, they are of a pretty fancy; but don’t you think them rather of the +smallest? +</p> + +<p>JEWELLER.<br/> +My lord, they could not well be larger, to keep on your lordship’s shoe. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +My good sir, you forget that these matters are not as they used to be; +formerly, indeed, the buckle was a sort of machine, intended to keep on the +shoe; but the case is now quite reversed, and the shoe is of no earthly use, +but to keep on the buckle.—Now give me my watches [SERVANT <i>fetches the +watches</i>,] my chapeau, [SERVANT <i>brings a dress hat</i>,] my handkerchief, +[SERVANT <i>pours some scented liquor on a handkerchief and brings it</i>,] my +snuff-box [SERVANT <i>brings snuff-box</i>.] There, now the business of the +morning is pretty well over. [<i>Exit</i> JEWELLER.] +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +[<i>Aside to</i> LORY.] Well, Lory, what dost think on’t?—a very +friendly reception from a brother, after three years’ absence! +</p> + +<p>LORY.<br/> +[<i>Aside to</i> TOM FASHION.] Why, sir, ’tis your own fault—here +you have stood ever since you came in, and have not commended any one thing +that belongs to him. [SERVANTS <i>all go off.</i>] +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +[<i>Aside to</i> LORY.] Nor ever shall, while they belong to a +coxcomb.—[<i>To</i> LORD FOPPINGTON.] Now your people of business are +gone, brother, I hope I may obtain a quarter of an hour’s audience of +you? +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +Faith, Tam, I must beg you’ll excuse me at this time, for I have an +engagement which I would not break for the salvation of +mankind.—Hey!—there!—is my carriage at the door? You’ll +excuse me, brother. [<i>Going</i>.] +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Shall you be back to dinner? +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +As Gad shall jedge me, I can’t tell; for it is passible I may dine with +some friends at Donner’s. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Shall I meet you there? For I must needs talk with you. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +That I’m afraid mayn’t be quite so praper; for those I commonly eat +with are people of nice conversation; and you know, Tam, your education has +been a little at large.—But there are other ordinaries in town—very +good beef ordinaries—I suppose, Tam, you can eat beef?—However, +dear Tam, I’m glad to see thee in England, stap my vitals! [<i>Exit</i>, +LA VAROLE <i>following</i>.] +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Hell and furies! is this to be borne? +</p> + +<p>LORY.<br/> +Faith, sir, I could almost have given him a knock o’ the pate myself. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +’Tis enough; I will now show you the excess of my passion, by being very +calm.—Come, Lory, lay your loggerhead to mine, and, in cold blood, let us +contrive his destruction. +</p> + +<p>LORY.<br/> +Here comes a head, sir, would contrive it better than both our loggerheads, if +she would but join in the confederacy. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +By this light, Madam Coupler! she seems dissatisfied at something: let us +observe her. +</p> + +<p><i>Enter</i> MRS. COUPLER. +</p> + +<p>MRS. COUPLER.<br/> +So! I am likely to be well rewarded for my services, truly; my suspicions, I +find, were but too just. What! refuse to advance me a petty sum, when I am upon +the point of making him master of a galleon! but let him look to the +consequences; an ungrateful, narrow-minded coxcomb. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +So he is, upon my soul, old lady; it must be my brother you speak of. +</p> + +<p>MRS. COUPLER.<br/> +Ha! stripling, how came you here? What, hast spent all, eh? And art thou come +to dun his lordship for assistance? +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +No, I want somebody’s assistance to cut his lordship’s throat, +without the risk of being hanged for him. +</p> + +<p>MRS. COUPLER.<br/> +Egad, sirrah, I could help thee to do him almost as good a turn, without the +danger of being burned in the hand for’t. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +How—how, old mischief? +</p> + +<p>MRS. COUPLER.<br/> +Why, you must know I have done you the kindness to make up a match for your +brother. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +I am very much beholden to you, truly! +</p> + +<p>MRS. COUPLER.<br/> +You may be before the wedding-day, yet: the lady is a great heiress, the match +is concluded, the writings are drawn, and his lordship is come hither to put +the finishing hand to the business. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +I understand as much. +</p> + +<p>MRS. COUPLER.<br/> +Now, you must know, stripling, your brother’s a knave. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Good. +</p> + +<p>MRS. COUPLER.<br/> +He has given me a bond of a thousand pounds for helping him to this fortune, +and has promised me as much more, in ready money, upon the day of the marriage; +which, I understand by a friend, he never designs to pay me; and his just now +refusing to pay me a part is a proof of it. If, therefore, you will be a +generous young rogue, and secure me five thousand pounds, I’ll help you +to the lady. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +And how the devil wilt thou do that? +</p> + +<p>MRS. COUPLER.<br/> +Without the devil’s aid, I warrant thee. Thy brother’s face not one +of the family ever saw; the whole business has been managed by me, and all his +letters go through my hands. Sir Tunbelly Clumsy, my relation—for +that’s the old gentleman’s name—is apprised of his +lordship’s being down here, and expects him tomorrow to receive his +daughter’s hand; but the peer, I find, means to bait here a few days +longer, to recover the fatigue of his journey, I suppose. Now you shall go to +Muddymoat Hall in his place. I’ll give you a letter of introduction: and +if you don’t marry the girl before sunset, you deserve to be hanged +before morning. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Agreed! agreed! and for thy reward— +</p> + +<p>MRS. COUPLER.<br/> +Well, well;—though I warrant thou hast not a farthing of money in thy +pocket now—no—one may see it in thy face. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Not a sous, by Jupiter! +</p> + +<p>MRS. COUPLER.<br/> +Must I advance, then? Well, be at my lodgings, next door, this evening, and +I’ll see what may be done—we’ll sign and seal, and when I +have given thee some further instructions, thou shalt hoist sail and be gone. +[<i>Exit</i>.] +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +So, Lory, Fortune, thou seest, at last takes care of merit! We are in a fair +way to be great people. +</p> + +<p>LORY.<br/> +Ay, sir, if the devil don’t step between the cup and the lip, as he used +to do. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Why, faith, he has played me many a damned trick to spoil my fortune; and, +egad, I am almost afraid he’s at work about it again now; but if I should +tell thee how, thou’dst wonder at me. +</p> + +<p>LORY.<br/> +Indeed, sir, I should not. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +How dost know? +</p> + +<p>LORY.<br/> +Because, sir, I have wondered at you so often, I can wonder at you no more. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +No! what wouldst thou say, if a qualm of conscience should spoil my design? +</p> + +<p>LORY.<br/> +I would eat my words, and wonder more than ever. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Why faith, Lory, though I have played many a roguish trick, this is so +full-grown a cheat, I find I must take pains to come up to’t—I have +scruples. +</p> + +<p>LORY.<br/> +They are strong symptoms of death. If you find they increase, sir, pray make +your will. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +No, my conscience shan’t starve me neither: but thus far I’ll +listen to it. Before I execute this project, I’ll try my brother to the +bottom. If he has yet so much humanity about him as to assist me—though +with a moderate aid—I’ll drop my project at his feet, and show him +how I can do for him much more than what I’d ask he’d do for me. +This one conclusive trial of him I resolve to make. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +Succeed or fail, still victory is my lot;<br/> +If I subdue his heart, ’tis well—if not,<br/> +I will subdue my conscience to my plot.<br/> +</p> + +<p>[<i>Exeunt</i>.] +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3>ACT II.</h3> + +<h4>SCENE I.—LOVELESS’S <i>Lodgings</i>. </h4> + +<p><i>Enter</i> LOVELESS <i>and</i> AMANDA. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +How do you like these lodgings, my dear? For my part, I am so pleased with +them, I shall hardly remove whilst we stay here, if you are satisfied. +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +I am satisfied with everything that pleases you, else I had not come to +Scarborough at all. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +Oh, a little of the noise and folly of this place will sweeten the pleasures of +our retreat; we shall find the charms of our retirement doubled when we return +to it. +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +That pleasing prospect will be my chiefest entertainment, whilst, much against +my will, I engage in those empty pleasures which ’tis so much the fashion +to be fond of. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +I own most of them are, indeed, but empty; yet there are delights of which a +private life is destitute, which may divert an honest man, and be a harmless +entertainment to a virtuous woman: good music is one; and truly (with some +small allowance) the plays, I think, may be esteemed another. +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +Plays, I must confess, have some small charms. What do you think of that you +saw last night? +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +To say truth, I did not mind it much—my attention was for some time taken +off to admire the workmanship of Nature in the face of a young lady who sat at +some distance from me, she was so exquisitely handsome. +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +So exquisitely handsome! +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +Why do you repeat my words, my dear? +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +Because you seemed to speak them with such pleasure, I thought I might oblige +you with their echo. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +Then you are alarmed, Amanda? +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +It is my duty to be so when you are in danger. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +You are too quick in apprehending for me. I viewed her with a world of +admiration, but not one glance of love. +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +Take heed of trusting to such nice distinctions. But were your eyes the only +things that were inquisitive? Had I been in your place, my tongue, I fancy, had +been curious too. I should have asked her where she lived—yet still +without design—who was she, pray? +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +Indeed I cannot tell. +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +You will not tell. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +Upon my honour, then, I did not ask. +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +Nor do you know what company was with her? +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +I do not. But why are you so earnest? +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +I thought I had cause. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +But you thought wrong, Amanda; for turn the case, and let it be your story: +should you come home and tell me you had seen a handsome man, should I grow +jealous because you had eyes? +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +But should I tell you he was exquisitely so, and that I had gazed on him with +admiration, should you not think ’twere possible I might go one step +further, and inquire his name? +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +[<i>Aside</i>.] She has reason on her side; I have talked too much; but I must +turn off another way.—[<i>Aloud</i>.] Will you then make no difference, +Amanda, between the language of our sex and yours? There is a modesty restrains +your tongues, which makes you speak by halves when you commend; but roving +flattery gives a loose to ours, which makes us still speak double what we +think. +</p> + +<p><i>Enter</i> SERVANT. +</p> + +<p>SERVANT.<br/> +Madam, there is a lady at the door in a chair desires to know whether your +ladyship sees company; her name is Berinthia. +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +Oh dear! ’tis a relation I have not seen these five years; pray her to +walk in.—[<i>Exit</i> SERVANT.] Here’s another beauty for you; she +was, when I saw her last, reckoned extremely handsome. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +Don’t be jealous now; for I shall gaze upon her too. +</p> + +<p><i>Enter</i> BERINTHIA. Ha! by heavens, the very woman! [<i>Aside</i>.] +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +[<i>Salutes</i> AMANDA.] Dear Amanda, I did not expect to meet you in +Scarborough. +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +Sweet cousin, I’m overjoyed to see you.—Mr. Loveless, here’s +a relation and a friend of mine, I desire you’ll be better acquainted +with. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +[<i>Salutes</i> BERINTHIA.] If my wife never desires a harder thing, madam, her +request will be easily granted. +</p> + +<p><i>Re-enter</i> SERVANT. +</p> + +<p>SERVANT.<br/> +Sir, my Lord Foppington presents his humble service to you, and desires to know +how you do. He’s at the next door; and, if it be not inconvenient to you, +he’ll come and wait upon you. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +Give my compliments to his lordship, and I shall be glad to see +him.—[<i>Exit</i> SERVANT.] If you are not acquainted with his lordship, +madam, you will be entertained with his character. +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +Now it moves my pity more than my mirth to see a man whom nature has made no +fool be so very industrious to pass for an ass. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +No, there you are wrong, Amanda; you should never bestow your pity upon those +who take pains for your contempt: pity those whom nature abuses, never those +who abuse nature. +</p> + +<p><i>Enter</i> LORD FOPPINGTON. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +Dear Loveless, I am your most humble servant. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +My lord, I’m yours. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +Madam, your ladyship’s very obedient slave. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +My lord, this lady is a relation of my wife’s. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +[<i>Salutes</i> BERINTHIA.] The beautifullest race of people upon earth, rat +me! Dear Loveless, I am overjoyed that you think of continuing here: I am, stap +my vitals!—[<i>To</i> AMANDA.] For Gad’s sake, madam, how has your +ladyship been able to subsist thus long, under the fatigue of a country life? +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +My life has been very far from that, my lord; it has been a very quiet one. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +Why, that’s the fatigue I speak of, madam; for ’tis impossible to +be quiet without thinking: now thinking is to me the greatest fatigue in the +world. +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +Does not your lordship love reading, then? +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +Oh, passionately, madam; but I never think of what I read. For example, madam, +my life is a perpetual stream of pleasure, that glides through with such a +variety of entertainments, I believe the wisest of our ancestors never had the +least conception of any of ’em. I rise, madam, when in town, about twelve +o’clock. I don’t rise sooner, because it is the worst thing in the +world for the complexion: not that I pretend to be a beau; but a man must +endeavour to look decent, lest he makes so odious a figure in the side-bax, the +ladies should be compelled to turn their eyes upon the play. So at twelve +o’clock, I say, I rise. Naw, if I find it is a good day, I resalve to +take the exercise of riding; so drink my chocolate, and draw on my boots by +two. On my return, I dress; and, after dinner, lounge perhaps to the opera. +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +Your lordship, I suppose, is fond of music? +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +Oh, passionately, on Tuesdays and Saturdays; for then there is always the best +company, and one is not expected to undergo the fatigue of listening. +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +Does your lordship think that the case at the opera? +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +Most certainly, madam. There is my Lady Tattle, my Lady Prate, my Lady Titter, +my Lady Sneer, my Lady Giggle, and my Lady Grin—these have boxes in the +front, and while any favourite air is singing, are the prettiest company in the +waurld, stap my vitals!—Mayn’t we hope for the honour to see you +added to our society, madam? +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +Alas! my lord, I am the worst company in the world at a concert, I’m so +apt to attend to the music. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +Why, madam, that is very pardonable in the country or at church, but a +monstrous inattention in a polite assembly. But I am afraid I tire the company? +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +Not at all. Pray go on. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +Why then, ladies, there only remains to add, that I generally conclude the +evening at one or other of the clubs; nat that I ever play deep; indeed I have +been for some time tied up from losing above five thousand paunds at a sitting. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +But isn’t your lordship sometimes obliged to attend the weighty affairs +of the nation? +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +Sir, as to weighty affairs, I leave them to weighty heads; I never intend mine +shall be a burden to my body. +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +Nay, my lord, but you are a pillar of the state. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +An ornamental pillar, madam; for sooner than undergo any part of the fatigue, +rat me, but the whole building should fall plump to the ground! +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +But, my lord, a fine gentleman spends a great deal of his time in his +intrigues; you have given us no account of them yet. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> + [<i>Aside</i>.] So! she would inquire into my amours—that’s + jealousy, poor soul!—I see she’s in love with + me.—[<i>Aloud</i>.] O Lord, madam, I had like to have forgot a secret I + must need tell your ladyship.—Ned, you must not be so jealous now as to + listen. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +[<i>Leading</i> BERINTHIA <i>up the stage</i>.] Not I, my lord; I am too +fashionable a husband to pry into the secrets of my wife. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> + [<i>Aside to</i> AMANDA <i>squeezing her hand</i>.] I am in love with you to + desperation, strike me speechless! +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +[<i>Strikes him on the ear</i>.] Then thus I return your passion.—An +impudent fool! +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +God’s curse, madam, I am a peer of the realm! +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +[<i>Hastily returning</i>.] Hey! what the devil, do you affront my wife, sir? +Nay, then—[<i>Draws. They fight.</i>] +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +What has my folly done?—Help! murder! help! Part them for Heaven’s +sake. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +[<i>Falls back and leans on his sword.</i>] Ah! quite through the body, stap my +vitals! +</p> + +<p><i>Enter</i> SERVANTS. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +[<i>Runs to</i> LORD FOPPINGTON.] I hope I ha’nt killed the fool, +however. Bear him up.—Call a surgeon there. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +Ay, pray make haste. [<i>Exit</i> SERVANT. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +This mischief you may thank yourself for. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +I may say so; love’s the devil indeed, Ned. +</p> + +<p><i>Re-enter</i> SERVANT, <i>with</i> PROBE. +</p> + +<p>SERVANT.<br/> +Here’s Mr. Probe, sir, was just going by the door. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +He’s the welcomest man alive. +</p> + +<p>PROBE.<br/> +Stand by, stand by, stand by; pray, gentlemen, stand by. Lord have mercy upon +us, did you never see a man run through the body before?—Pray stand by. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +Ah, Mr. Probe, I’m a dead man. +</p> + +<p>PROBE.<br/> +A dead man, and I by! I should laugh to see that, egad. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +Pr’ythee don’t stand prating, but look upon his wound. +</p> + +<p>PROBE.<br/> +Why, what if I don’t look upon his wound this hour, sir? +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +Why, then he’ll bleed to death, sir. +</p> + +<p>PROBE.<br/> +Why, then I’ll fetch him to life again, sir. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +’Slife! he’s run through the body, I tell thee. +</p> + +<p>PROBE.<br/> +I wish he was run through the heart, and I should get the more credit by his +cure. Now I hope you are satisfied? Come, now let me come at him—now let +me come at him.—[<i>Viewing his wound.</i>] Oops, what a gash is here! +why, sir, a man may drive a coach and six horses into your body. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +Oh! +</p> + +<p>PROBE.<br/> +Why, what the devil have you run the gentleman through with—a +scythe?—[<i>Aside</i>.] A little scratch between the skin and the ribs, +that’s all. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +Let me see his wound. +</p> + +<p>PROBE.<br/> +Then you shall dress it, sir; for if anybody looks upon it I won’t. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +Why, thou art the veriest coxcomb I ever saw! +</p> + +<p>PROBE.<br/> +Sir, I am not master of my trade for nothing. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +Surgeon! +</p> + +<p>PROBE.<br/> +Sir. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +Are there any hopes? +</p> + +<p>PROBE.<br/> +Hopes! I can’t tell. What are you willing to give for a cure? +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +Five hundred paunds with pleasure. +</p> + +<p>PROBE.<br/> +Why then perhaps there may be hopes; but we must avoid further +delay.—Here, help the gentleman into a chair, and carry him to my house +presently—that’s the properest place—[<i>Aside</i>.] to +bubble him out of his money.—[<i>Aloud</i>.] Come, a chair—a chair +quickly—there, in with him. +</p> + +<p>[SERVANTS <i>put</i> LORD FOPPINGTON <i>into a chair</i>.] +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +Dear Loveless, adieu; if I die, I forgive thee; and if I live, I hope thou wilt +do as much by me. I am sorry you and I should quarrel, but I hope here’s +an end on’t; for if you are satisfied, I am. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +I shall hardly think it worth my prosecuting any further, so you may be at +rest, sir. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +Thou art a generous fellow, strike me dumb!—[<i>Aside</i>.] But thou hast +an impertinent wife, stap my vitals! +</p> + +<p>PROBE.<br/> +So—carry him off!—carry him off!—We shall have him into a +fever by-and-by.—Carry him off! [<i>Exit with</i> LORD FOPPINGTON.] Enter +COLONEL TOWNLY. +</p> + +<p>COLONEL TOWNLY.<br/> +So, so, I am glad to find you all alive.—I met a wounded peer carrying +off. For heaven’s sake what was the matter? +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +Oh, a trifle! he would have made love to my wife before my face, so she obliged +him with a box o’ the ear, and I ran him through the body, that was all. +</p> + +<p>COLONEL TOWNLY.<br/> +Bagatelle on all sides. But pray, madam, how long has this noble lord been an +humble servant of yours? +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +This is the first I have heard on’t—so I suppose, ’tis his +quality more than his love has brought him into this adventure. He thinks his +title an authentic passport to every woman’s heart below the degree of a +peeress. +</p> + +<p>COLONEL TOWNLY.<br/> +He’s coxcomb enough to think anything: but I would not have you brought +into trouble for him. I hope there’s no danger of his life? +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +None at all. He’s fallen into the hands of a roguish surgeon, who, I +perceive, designs to frighten a little money out of him: but I saw his +wound—’tis nothing: he may go to the ball tonight if he pleases. +</p> + +<p>COLONEL TOWNLY.<br/> +I am glad you have corrected him without further mischief, or you might have +deprived me of the pleasure of executing a plot against his lordship, which I +have been contriving with an old acquaintance of yours. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +Explain. +</p> + +<p>COLONEL TOWNLY.<br/> +His brother, Tom Fashion, is come down here, and we have it in contemplation to +save him the trouble of his intended wedding: but we want your assistance. Tom +would have called but he is preparing for his enterprise, so I promised to +bring you to him—so, sir, if these ladies can spare you— +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +I’ll go with you with all my heart.—[<i>Aside</i>.] Though I could +wish, methinks, to stay and gaze a little longer on that creature. Good gods! +how engaging she is!—but what have I to do with beauty? I have already +had my portion, and must not covet more. +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +Mr. Loveless, pray one word with you before you go. [<i>Exit</i> COLONEL +TOWNLY. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +What would my dear? +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +Only a woman’s foolish question: how do you like my cousin here? +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +Jealous already, Amanda? +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +Not at all: I ask you for another reason. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +[<i>Aside</i>.] Whate’er her reason be, I must not tell her +true.—[<i>Aloud</i>.] Why, I confess, she’s handsome: but you must +not think I slight your kinswoman, if I own to you, of all the women who may +claim that character, she is the last that would triumph in my heart. +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +I’m satisfied. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +Now tell me why you asked? +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +At night I will—adieu! +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +I’m yours. [<i>Kisses her and exit</i>.] +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +I’m glad to find he does not like her, for I have a great mind to +persuade her to come and live with me. [<i>Aside</i>.] +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +So! I find my colonel continues in his airs; there must be something more at +the bottom of this than the provocation he pretends from me. [<i>Aside</i>.] +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +For Heaven’s sake, Berinthia, tell me what way I shall take to persuade +you to come and live with me. +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +Why, one way in the world there is, and but one. +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +And pray what is that? +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +It is to assure me—I shall be very welcome. +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +If that be all, you shall e’en sleep here tonight. +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +Tonight. +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +Yes, tonight. +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +Why, the people where I lodge will think me mad. +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +Let ’em think what they please. +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +Say you so, Amanda? Why, then, they shall think what they please: for I’m +a young widow, and I care not what anybody thinks.—Ah, Amanda, it’s +a delicious thing to be a young widow! +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +You’ll hardly make me think so. +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +Poh! because you are in love with your husband. +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +Pray, ’tis with a world of innocence I would inquire whether you think +those we call women of reputation do really escape all other men as they do +those shadows of beaux. +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +Oh no, Amanda; there are a sort of men make dreadful work amongst ’em, +men that may be called the beau’s antipathy, for they agree in nothing +but walking upon two legs. These have brains, the beau has none. These are in +love with their mistress, the beau with himself. They take care of their +reputation, the beau is industrious to destroy it. They are decent, he’s +a fop; in short, they are men, he’s an ass. +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +If this be their character, I fancy we had here, e’en now, a pattern of +’em both. +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +His lordship and Colonel Townly? +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +The same. +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +As for the lord, he is eminently so; and for the other, I can assure you +there’s not a man in town who has a better interest with the women that +are worth having an interest with. +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +He answers the opinion I had ever of him. [<i>Takes her hand</i>.] I must +acquaint you with a secret—’tis not that fool alone has talked to +me of love; Townly has been tampering too. +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +[<i>Aside</i>.] So, so! here the mystery comes out!—[<i>Aloud</i>.] +Colonel Townly! impossible, my dear! +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +’Tis true indeed; though he has done it in vain; nor do I think that all +the merit of mankind combined could shake the tender love I bear my husband; +yet I will own to you, Berinthia, I did not start at his addresses, as when +they came from one whom I contemned. +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +[<i>Aside</i>.] Oh, this is better and better!—[<i>Aloud</i>.] Well said, +innocence! and you really think, my dear, that nothing could abate your +constancy and attachment to your husband? +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +Nothing, I am convinced. +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +What, if you found he loved another woman better? +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +Well! +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +Well!—why, were I that thing they call a slighted wife, somebody should +run the risk of being that thing they call—a husband. Don’t I talk +madly? +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +Madly indeed! +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +Yet I’m very innocent. +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +That I dare swear you are. I know how to make allowances for your humour: but +you resolve then never to marry again? +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +Oh no! I resolve I will. +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +How so? +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +That I never may. +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +You banter me. +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +Indeed I don’t: but I consider I’m a woman, and form my resolutions +accordingly. +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +Well, my opinion is, form what resolutions you will, matrimony will be the end +on’t. +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +I doubt it. But ah, Heavens! I have business at home, and am half an hour too +late. +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +As you are to return with me, I’ll just give some orders, and walk with +you. +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +Well, make haste, and we’ll finish this subject as we +go—[<i>Exit</i> AMANDA.]. Ah, poor Amanda! you have led a country life. +Well, this discovery is lucky! Base Townly! at once false to me and treacherous +to his friend!—And my innocent and demure cousin too! I have it in my +power to be revenged on her, however. Her husband, if I have any skill in +countenance, would be as happy in my smiles as Townly can hope to be in hers. +I’ll make the experiment, come what will on’t. The woman who can +forgive the being robbed of a favoured lover, must be either an idiot or a +wanton. [<i>Exit</i>.] +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3>ACT III.</h3> + +<h4>SCENE I.—LORD FOPPINGTON’s <i>Lodgings. Enter</i> LORD +FOPPINGTON, <i>and</i> LA VAROLE. </h4> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +Hey, fellow, let thy <i>vis-à -vis</i> come to the door. +</p> + +<p>LA VAROLE.<br/> +Will your lordship venture so soon to expose yourself to the weather? +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +Sir, I will venture as soon as I can expose myself to the ladies. +</p> + +<p>LA VAROLE.<br/> +I wish your lordship would please to keep house a little longer; I’m +afraid your honour does not well consider your wound. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +My wound!—I would not be in eclipse another day, though I had as many +wounds in my body as I have had in my heart. So mind, Varole, let these cards +be left as directed; for this evening I shall wait on my future father-in-law, +Sir Tunbelly, and I mean to commence my devoirs to the lady, by giving an +entertainment at her father’s expense; and hark thee, tell Mr. Loveless I +request he and his company will honour me with their presence, or I shall think +we are not friends. +</p> + +<p>LA VAROLE.<br/> +I will be sure, milor. [<i>Exit</i>.] +</p> + +<p><i>Enter</i> TOM FASHION. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Brother, your servant; how do you find yourself today? +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +So well that I have ardered my coach to the door—so there’s no +danger of death this baut, Tam. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +I’m very glad of it. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +[<i>Aside</i>.] That I believe a lie.—[<i>Aloud</i>.] Pr’ythee, +Tam, tell me one thing—did not your heart cut a caper up to your mauth, +when you heard I was run through the bady? +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Why do you think it should? +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +Because I remember mine did so when I heard my uncle was shot through the head. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +It, then, did very ill. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +Pr’ythee, why so? +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Because he used you very well. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +Well!—Naw, strike me dumb! he starved me; he has let me want a thausand +women for want of a thausand paund. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Then he hindered you from making a great many ill bargains; for I think no +woman worth money that will take money. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +If I was a younger brother I should think so too. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Then you are seldom much in love? +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +Never, stap my vitals! +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Why, then, did you make all this bustle about Amanda? +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +Because she’s a woman of insolent virtue, and I thought myself piqued in +honour to debauch her. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Very well.—[<i>Aside</i>.] Here’s a rare fellow for you, to have +the spending of ten thousand pounds a year! But now for my business with +him.—[<i>Aloud</i>.] Brother, though I know to talk of any business +(especially of money) is a theme not quite so entertaining to you as that of +the ladies, my necessities are such, I hope you’ll have patience to hear +me. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +The greatness of your necessities, Tam, is the worst argument in the waurld for +your being patiently heard. I do believe you are going to make a very good +speech, but, strike me dumb! it has the worst beginning of any speech I have +heard this twelvemonth. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +I’m sorry you think so. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +I do believe thou art: but, come, let’s know the affair quickly. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Why, then, my case, in a word, is this: the necessary expenses of my travels +have so much exceeded the wretched income of my annuity, that I have been +forced to mortgage it for five hundred pounds, which is spent. So unless you +are so kind as to assist me in redeeming it, I know no remedy but to take a +purse. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +Why, faith, Tam, to give you my sense of the thing, I do think taking a purse +the best remedy in the waurld; for if you succeed, you are relieved that way, +if you are taken [<i>Drawing his hand round his neck</i>], you are relieved +t’other. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +I’m glad to see you are in so pleasant a humour; I hope I shall find the +effects on’t. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +Why, do you then really think it a reasonable thing, that I should give you +five hundred paunds? +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +I do not ask it as a due, brother; I am willing to receive it as a favour. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +Then thou art willing to receive it anyhow, strike me speechless! But these are +damned times to give money in; taxes are so great, repairs so exorbitant, +tenants such rogues, and bouquets so dear, that the devil take me I’m +reduced to that extremity in my cash, I have been forced to retrench in that +one article of sweet pawder, till I have brought it down to five guineas a +maunth—now judge, Tam, whether I can spare you five paunds. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +If you can’t I must starve, that’s all.—[<i>Aside</i>.] Damn +him! +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +All I can say is, you should have been a better husband. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Ouns! if you can’t live upon ten thousand a year, how do you think I +should do’t upon two hundred? +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +Don’t be in a passion, Tam, for passion is the most unbecoming thing in +the waurld—to the face. Look you, I don’t love to say anything to +you to make you melancholy, but upon this occasion I must take leave to put you +in mind that a running horse does require more attendance than a coach-horse. +Nature has made some difference twixt you and me. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Yes—she has made you older.—[<i>Aside</i>.] Plague take her. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +That is not all, Tam. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Why, what is there else? +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +[<i>Looks first on himself and then on his brother</i>.] Ask the ladies. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Why, thou essence-bottle, thou musk-cat! dost thou then think thou hast any +advantage over me but what Fortune has given thee? +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +I do, stap my vitals! +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Now, by all that’s great and powerful, thou art the prince of coxcombs! +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +Sir, I am proud at being at the head of so prevailing a party. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Will nothing provoke thee?—Draw, coward! +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +Look you, Tam, you know I have always taken you for a mighty dull fellow, and +here is one of the foolishest plats broke out that I have seen a lang time. +Your poverty makes life so burdensome to you, you would provoke me to a +quarrel, in hopes either to slip through my lungs into my estate, or to get +yourself run through the guts, to put an end to your pain. But I will +disappoint you in both your designs; far, with the temper of a philasapher, and +the discretion of a statesman—I shall leave the room with my sword in the +scabbard. [<i>Exit</i>.] +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +So! farewell, brother; and now, conscience, I defy thee. Lory! +</p> + +<p><i>Enter</i> LORY. +</p> + +<p>LORY.<br/> +Sir! +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Here’s rare news, Lory; his lordship has given me a pill has purged off +all my scruples. +</p> + +<p>LORY.<br/> +Then my heart’s at ease again: for I have been in a lamentable fright, +sir, ever since your conscience had the impudence to intrude into your company. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Be at peace; it will come there no more: my brother has given it a wring by the +nose, and I have kicked it downstairs. So run away to the inn, get the chaise +ready quickly, and bring it to Dame Coupler’s without a moment’s +delay. +</p> + +<p>LORY.<br/> +Then, sir, you are going straight about the fortune? +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +I am.—Away—fly, Lory! +</p> + +<p>LORY.<br/> +The happiest day I ever saw. I’m upon the wing already. Now then I shall +get my wages. [<i>Exeunt</i>.] +</p> + +<h4>SCENE II.—<i>A Garden behind</i> LOVELESS’S <i>Lodgings. +Enter</i> LOVELESS <i>and</i> SERVANT. </h4> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +Is my wife within? +</p> + +<p>SERVANT.<br/> +No, sir, she has gone out this half-hour. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +Well, leave me.—[<i>Exit</i> SERVANT.] How strangely does my mind run on +this widow!—Never was my heart so suddenly seized on before. That my wife +should pick out her, of all womankind, to be her playfellow! But what fate +does, let fate answer for: I sought it not. So! by Heavens! here she comes. +</p> + +<p><i>Enter</i> BERINTHIA. +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +What makes you look so thoughtful, sir? I hope you are not ill. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +I was debating, madam, whether I was so or not, and that was it which made me +look so thoughtful. +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +Is it then so hard a matter to decide? I thought all people were acquainted +with their own bodies, though few people know their own minds. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +What if the distemper I suspect be in the mind? +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +Why then I’ll undertake to prescribe you a cure. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +Alas! you undertake you know not what. +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +So far at least, then, you allow me to be a physician. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +Nay, I’ll allow you to be so yet further: for I have reason to believe, +should I put myself into your hands, you would increase my distemper. +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +How? +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +Oh, you might betray me to my wife. +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +And so lose all my practice. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +Will you then keep my secret? +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +I will. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +Well—but swear it. +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +I swear by woman. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +Nay, that’s swearing by my deity; swear by your own, and I shall believe +you. +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +Well then, I swear by man! +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +I’m satisfied. Now hear my symptoms, and give me your advice. The first +were these; when I saw you at the play, a random glance you threw at first +alarmed me. I could not turn my eyes from whence the danger came—I gazed +upon you till my heart began to pant—nay, even now, on your approaching +me, my illness is so increased that if you do not help me I shall, whilst you +look on, consume to ashes. [<i>Takes her hand.</i>] +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +O Lord, let me go! ’tis the plague, and we shall be infected. +[<i>Breaking from him.</i>] +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +Then we’ll die together, my charming angel. +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +O Gad! the devil’s in you! Lord, let me go!—here’s somebody +coming. +</p> + +<p><i>Re-enter</i> SERVANT. +</p> + +<p>SERVANT.<br/> +Sir, my lady’s come home, and desires to speak with you. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +Tell her I’m coming.—[<i>Exit</i> SERVANT.] But before I go, one +glass of nectar to drink her health. [<i>To</i> BERINTHIA.] +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +Stand off, or I shall hate you, by Heavens! +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +[<i>Kissing her</i>.] In matters of love, a woman’s oath is no more to be +minded than a man’s. [<i>Exit.</i>] +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +Um! +</p> + +<p><i>Enter</i> COLONEL TOWNLY. +</p> + +<p>COLONEL TOWNLY.<br/> +[<i>Aside</i>.] So? what’s here—Berinthia and Loveless—and in +such close conversation!—I cannot now wonder at her indifference in +excusing herself to me!—O rare woman!—Well then, let Loveless look +to his wife, ’twill be but the retort courteous on both +sides.—[<i>Aloud</i>.] Your servant, madam; I need not ask you how you +do, you have got so good a colour. +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +No better than I used to have, I suppose. +</p> + +<p>COLONEL TOWNLY.<br/> +A little more blood in your cheeks. +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +I have been walking! +</p> + +<p>COLONEL TOWNLY.<br/> +Is that all? Pray was it Mr. Loveless went from here just now? +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +O yes—he has been walking with me. +</p> + +<p>COLONEL TOWNLY.<br/> +He has! +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +Upon my word I think he is a very agreeable man; and there is certainly +something particularly insinuating in his address. +</p> + +<p>COLONEL TOWNLY.<br/> +[<i>Aside</i>.] So, so! she hasn’t even the modesty to dissemble! +[<i>Aloud</i>.] Pray, madam, may I, without impertinence, trouble you with a +few serious questions? +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +As many as you please; but pray let them be as little serious as possible. +</p> + +<p>COLONEL TOWNLY.<br/> +Is it not near two years since I have presumed to address you? +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +I don’t know exactly—but it has been a tedious long time. +</p> + +<p>COLONEL TOWNLY.<br/> + Have I not, during that period, had every reason to believe that my + assiduities were far from being unacceptable? +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +Why, to do you justice, you have been extremely troublesome—and I confess +I have been more civil to you than you deserved. +</p> + +<p>COLONEL TOWNLY.<br/> + Did I not come to this place at your express desire, and for no purpose but + the honour of meeting you?—and after waiting a month in disappointment, + have you condescended to explain, or in the slightest way apologise for, your + conduct? +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +O heavens! apologise for my conduct!—apologise to you! O you barbarian! +But pray now, my good serious colonel, have you anything more to add? +</p> + +<p>COLONEL TOWNLY.<br/> + Nothing, madam, but that after such behaviour I am less surprised at what I + saw just now; it is not very wonderful that the woman who can trifle with the + delicate addresses of an honourable lover should be found coquetting with the + husband of her friend. +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +Very true: no more wonderful than it was for this honourable lover to divert +himself in the absence of this coquette, with endeavouring to seduce his +friend’s wife! O colonel, colonel, don’t talk of honour or your +friend, for Heaven’s sake! +</p> + +<p>COLONEL TOWNLY.<br/> +[<i>Aside.]</i> ’Sdeath! how came she to suspect +this!—[<i>Aloud.</i>] Really, madam, I don’t understand you. +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +Nay, nay, you saw I did not pretend to misunderstand you.—But here comes +the lady; perhaps you would be glad to be left with her for an explanation. +</p> + +<p>COLONEL TOWNLY.<br/> + O madam, this recrimination is a poor resource; and to convince you how much + you are mistaken, I beg leave to decline the happiness you propose + me.—Madam, your servant. +</p> + +<p><i>Enter</i> AMANDA. COLONEL TOWNLY <i>whispers</i> AMANDA, <i>and exit</i>. +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> [<i>Aside.</i>] He carries it off well, however; upon my +word, very well! How tenderly they part!—[<i>Aloud</i>] So, cousin; I +hope you have not been chiding your admirer for being with me? I assure you we +have been talking of you. +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +Fy, Berinthia!—my admirer! will you never learn to talk in earnest of +anything? +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +Why this shall be in earnest, if you please; for my part, I only tell you +matter of fact. +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +I’m sure there’s so much jest and earnest in what you say to me on +this subject, I scarce know how to take it. I have just parted with Mr. +Loveless; perhaps it is fancy, but I think there is an alteration in his manner +which alarms me. +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +And so you are jealous; is that all? +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +That all! is jealousy, then, nothing? +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +It should be nothing, if I were in your case. +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +Why, what would you do? +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +I’d cure myself. +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +How? +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +Care as little for my husband as he did for me. Look you, Amanda, you may build +castles in the air, and fume, and fret, and grow thin, and lean, and pale, and +ugly, if you please; but I tell you, no man worth having is true to his wife, +or ever was, or ever will be so. +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +Do you then really think he’s false to me? for I did not suspect him. +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +Think so? I am sure of it. +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +You are sure on’t? +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +Positively—he fell in love at the play. +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +Right—the very same. But who could have told you this? +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +Um!—Oh, Townly! I suppose your husband has made him his confidant. +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +O base Loveless! And what did Townly say on’t? +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +[<i>Aside</i>.] So, so! why should she ask that?—[<i>Aloud</i>.] Say! why +he abused Loveless extremely, and said all the tender things of you in the +world. +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +Did he?—Oh! my heart!—I’m very ill—dear Berinthia, +don’t leave me a moment. [<i>Exeunt</i>.] +</p> + +<h4>SCENE III.—<i>Outside of</i> SIR TUNRELLY CLUMSY’S +<i>House</i>. </h4> + +<p><i>Enter</i> TOM FASHION <i>and</i> LORY. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +So here’s our inheritance, Lory, if we can but get into possession. But +methinks the seat of our family looks like Noah’s ark, as if the chief +part on’t were designed for the fowls of the air, and the beasts of the +field. +</p> + +<p>LORY.<br/> +Pray, sir, don’t let your head run upon the orders of building here: get +but the heiress, let the devil take the house. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Get but the house, let the devil take the heiress! I say.—But come, we +have no time to squander; knock at the door.—[LORY <i>knocks two or three +times at the gate.</i>] What the devil! have they got no ears in this +house?—Knock harder. +</p> + +<p>LORY.<br/> +Egad, sir, this will prove some enchanted castle; we shall have the giant come +out by-and-by, with his club, and beat our brains out. [<i>Knocks again.</i>] +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Hush, they come. +</p> + +<p>SERVANT.<br/> +[<i>Within.</i> ] Who is there? +</p> + +<p>LORY.<br/> +Open the door and see: is that your country breeding? +</p> + +<p>SERVANT.<br/> +Ay, but two words to that bargain.—Tummus, is the blunderbuss primed? +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Ouns! give ’em good words, Lory,—or we shall be shot here a fortune +catching. +</p> + +<p>LORY.<br/> +Egad, sir, I think you’re in the right on’t.—Ho! Mr. +What-d’ye-call-’um, will you please to let us in? or are we to be +left to grow like willows by your moat side? SERVANT <i>appears at the window +with a blunderbuss.</i> +</p> + +<p>SERVANT.<br/> +Well naw, what’s ya’re business? +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Nothing, sir, but to wait upon Sir Tunbelly, with your leave. +</p> + +<p>SERVANT.<br/> +To weat upon Sir Tunbelly! why, you’ll find that’s just as Sir +Tunbelly pleases. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +But will you do me the favour, sir, to know whether Sir Tunbelly pleases or +not? +</p> + +<p>SERVANT.<br/> +Why, look you, d’ye see, with good words much may be done. Ralph, go thy +ways, and ask Sir Tunbelly if he pleases to be waited upon—and dost hear, +call to nurse, that she may lock up Miss Hoyden before the gates open. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +D’ye hear, that, Lory? +</p> + +<p><i>Enter SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY, with SERVANTS, armed with guns, clubs, +pitchforks, &c</i>. +</p> + +<p>LORY.<br/> +Oh! [<i>Runs behind his master</i>.] O Lord! O Lord! Lord! we are both dead +men! +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Fool! thy fear will, ruin us. [<i>Aside to LORY</i>.] +</p> + +<p>LORY.<br/> +My fear, sir? ’sdeath, Sir, I fear nothing.—[<i>Aside</i>.] Would I +were well up to the chin in a horse-pond! +</p> + +<p>SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.<br/> +Who is it here hath any business with me? +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Sir, ’tis I, if your name be Sir Tunbelly Clumsy. +</p> + +<p>SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.<br/> +Sir, my name is Sir Tunbelly Clumsy, whether you have any business with me or +not.—So you see I am not ashamed of my name, nor my face either. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Sir, you have no cause that I know of. +</p> + +<p>SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.<br/> +Sir, if you have no cause either, I desire to know who you are; for, till I +know your name, I shan’t ask you to come into my house: and when I do +know your name, ’tis six to four I don’t ask you then. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Sir, I hope you’ll find this letter an authentic passport. [<i>Gives him +a letter</i>.] +</p> + +<p>SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.<br/> +Cod’s my life, from Mrs. Coupler!—I ask your lordship’s +pardon ten thousand times.—[<i>To a SERVANT</i>.] Here, run in a-doors +quickly; get a Scotch coal fire in the parlour, set all the Turkey work chairs +in their places, get the brass candlesticks out, and be sure stick the socket +full of laurel—run!—[<i>Turns to TOM FASHION</i>.]—My lord, I +ask your lordship’s pardon.—[<i>To SERVANT</i>.] And, do you hear, +run away to nurse; bid her let Miss Hoyden loose again.—[<i>Exit +SERVANT</i>.] I hope your honour will excuse the disorder of my family. We are +not used to receive men of your lordship’s great quality every day. Pray, +where are your coaches and servants, my lord? +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Sir, that I might give you and your daughter a proof how impatient I am to be +nearer akin to you, I left my equipage to follow me, and came away post with +only one servant. +</p> + +<p>SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.<br/> +Your lordship does me too much honour—it was exposing your person to too +much fatigue and danger, I protest it was: but my daughter shall endeavour to +make you what amends she can: and, though I say it that should not say it, +Hoyden has charms. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Sir, I am not a stranger to them, though I am to her; common fame has done her +justice. +</p> + +<p>SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.<br/> +My lord, I am common fame’s very grateful, humble servant. My lord, my +girl’s young—Hoyden is young, my lord: but this I must say for her, +what she wants in art she has in breeding; and what’s wanting in her age, +is made good in her constitution.—So pray, my lord, walk in; pray, my +lord, walk in. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Sir, I wait upon you. [<i>Exeunt</i>.] +</p> + +<h4>SCENE IV.—<i>A Room in</i> SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY’S <i>House</i>. +MISS HOYDEN <i>discovered alone</i>. </h4> + +<p>MISS HOYDEN.<br/> +Sure, nobody was ever used as I am! I know well enough what other girls do, for +all they think to make a fool o’ me. It’s well I have a husband +a-coming, or ecod I’d marry the baker, I would so. Nobody can knock at +the gate, but presently I must be locked up; and here’s the young +greyhound can run loose about the house all the day, so she +can.—’Tis very well! +</p> + +<p>NURSE.<br/> +[<i>Without opening the door</i>.] Miss Hoyden! miss, miss, miss! Miss Hoyden! +</p> + +<p><i>Enter</i> NURSE. +</p> + +<p>MISS HOYDEN.<br/> +Well, what do you make such a noise for, eh? What do you din a body’s +ears for? Can’t one be at quiet for you? +</p> + +<p>NURSE.<br/> +What do I din your ears for? Here’s one come will din your ears for you. +</p> + +<p>MISS HOYDEN.<br/> +What care I who’s come? I care not a fig who comes, or who goes, so long +as I must be locked up like the ale-cellar. +</p> + +<p>NURSE.<br/> +That, miss, is for fear you should be drank before you are ripe. +</p> + +<p>MISS HOYDEN.<br/> +Oh, don’t trouble your head about that; I’m as ripe as you, though +not so mellow. +</p> + +<p>NURSE.<br/> +Very well! Now I have a good mind to lock you up again, and not let you see my +lord tonight. +</p> + +<p>MISS HOYDEN.<br/> +My lord: why, is my husband come? +</p> + +<p>NURSE.<br/> +Yes, marry, is he; and a goodly person too. +</p> + +<p>MISS HOYDEN.<br/> +[<i>Hugs</i> NURSE.] Oh, my dear nurse, forgive me this once, and I’ll +never misuse you again; no, if I do, you shall give me three thumps on the +back, and a great pinch by the cheek. +</p> + +<p>NURSE.<br/> +Ah, the poor thing! see now it melts; it’s as full of good-nature as an +egg’s full of meat. +</p> + +<p>MISS HOYDEN.<br/> +But, my dear nurse, don’t lie now—is he come, by your troth? +</p> + +<p>NURSE.<br/> +Yes, by my truly, is he. +</p> + +<p>MISS HOYDEN.<br/> +O Lord! I’ll go and put on my laced tucker, though I’m locked up +for a month for’t. [<i>Exeunt</i>.<br/> +MISS HOYDEN <i>goes off capering, and twirling her doll by its leg.</i>] +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3>ACT IV.</h3> + +<h4>SCENE I.—<i>A Room in</i> SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY’S <i>House.</i> +</h4> + +<p><i>Enter</i> MISS HOYDEN <i>and</i> NURSE. +</p> + +<p>NURSE.<br/> +Well, miss, how do you like your husband that is to be? +</p> + +<p>MISS HOYDEN.<br/> +O Lord, nurse, I’m so overjoyed I can scarce contain myself! +</p> + +<p>NURSE.<br/> +Oh, but you must have a care of being too fond; for men, nowadays, hate a woman +that loves ’em. +</p> + +<p>MISS HOYDEN.<br/> +Love him! why, do you think I love him, nurse? Ecod I would not care if he was +hanged, so I were but once married to him. No, that which pleases me is to +think what work I’ll make when I get to London; for when I am a wife and +a lady both, ecod, I’ll flaunt it with the best of ’em. Ay, and I +shall have money enough to do so too, nurse. +</p> + +<p>NURSE.<br/> +Ah, there’s no knowing that, miss; for though these lords have a power of +wealth indeed, yet, as I have heard say, they give it all to their sluts and +their trulls, who joggle it about in their coaches, with a murrain to +’em, whilst poor madam sits sighing and wishing, and has not a spare +half-crown to buy her a Practice of Piety. +</p> + +<p>MISS HOYDEN.<br/> +Oh, but for that, don’t deceive yourself, nurse; for this I must say of +my lord, he’s as free as an open house at Christmas; for this very +morning he told me I should have six hundred a year to buy pins. Now if he +gives me six hundred a year to buy pins, what do you think he’ll give me +to buy petticoats? +</p> + +<p>NURSE.<br/> +Ay, my dearest, he deceives thee foully, and he’s no better than a rogue +for his pains! These Londoners have got a gibberish with ’em would +confound a gipsy. That which they call pin-money, is to buy everything in the +versal world, down to their very shoe-knots. Nay, I have heard some folks say +that some ladies, if they’ll have gallants as they call ’em, are +forced to find them out of their pin-money too.—But look, look, if his +honour be not coming to you!—Now, if I were sure you would behave +yourself handsomely, and not disgrace me that have brought you up, I’d +leave you alone together. +</p> + +<p>MISS HOYDEN.<br/> +That’s my best nurse; do as you’d be done by. Trust us together +this once, and if I don’t show my breeding, I wish I may never be +married, but die an old maid. +</p> + +<p>NURSE.<br/> +Well, this once I’ll venture you. But if you disparage me— +</p> + +<p>MISS HOYDEN.<br/> +Never fear. [<i>Exit</i> NURSE.] +</p> + +<p><i>Enter</i> TOM FASHION. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Your servant, madam; I’m glad to find you alone, for I have something of +importance to speak to you about. +</p> + +<p>MISS HOYDEN.<br/> +Sir (my lord, I meant), you may speak to me about what you please, I shall give +you a civil answer. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +You give so obliging an one, it encourages me to tell you in a few words what I +think, both for your interest and mine. Your father, I suppose you know, has +resolved to make me happy in being your husband; and I hope I may obtain your +consent to perform what he desires. +</p> + +<p>MISS HOYDEN.<br/> +Sir, I never disobey my father in anything but eating green gooseberries. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +So good a daughter must needs be an admirable wife. I am therefore impatient +till you are mine, and hope you will so far consider the violence of my love, +that you won’t have the cruelty to defer my happiness so long as your +father designs it. +</p> + +<p>MISS HOYDEN.<br/> +Pray, my lord, how long is that? +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Madam, a thousand years—a whole week. +</p> + +<p>MISS HOYDEN.<br/> +Why, I thought it was to be tomorrow morning, as soon as I was up. I’m +sure nurse told me so. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +And it shall be tomorrow morning, if you’ll consent. +</p> + +<p>MISS HOYDEN.<br/> +If I’ll consent! Why I thought I was to obey you as my husband. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +That’s when we are married. Till then, I’m to obey you. +</p> + +<p>MISS HOYDEN.<br/> +Why then, if we are to take it by turns, it’s the same thing. I’ll +obey you now, and when we are married you shall obey me. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +With all my heart. But I doubt we must get nurse on our side, or we shall +hardly prevail with the chaplain. +</p> + +<p>MISS HOYDEN.<br/> +No more we shan’t, indeed; for he loves her better than he loves his +pulpit, and would always be a-preaching to her by his good will. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Why then, my dear, if you’ll call her hither we’ll persuade her +presently. +</p> + +<p>MISS HOYDEN.<br/> +O Lud! I’ll tell you a way how to persuade her to anything. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +How’s that? +</p> + +<p>MISS HOYDEN.<br/> +Why tell her she’s a handsome comely woman, and give her half a crown. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Nay, if that will do, she shall have half a score of ’em. +</p> + +<p>MISS HOYDEN.<br/> +O gemini! for half that she’d marry you herself.—I’ll run and +call her. [<i>Exit.</i>] +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +So! matters go on swimmingly. This is a rare girl, i’faith. I shall have +a fine time on’t with her at London. +</p> + +<p><i>Enter</i> LORY. So, Lory, what’s the matter? +</p> + +<p>LORY.<br/> +Here, sir—an intercepted packet from the enemy; your brother’s +postilion brought it. I knew the livery, pretended to be a servant of Sir +Tunbelly’s, and so got possession of the letter. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +[<i>Looks at the letter</i>.] Ouns! he tells Sir Tunbelly here that he will be +with him this evening, with a large party to supper.—Egad, I must marry +the girl directly. +</p> + +<p>LORY.<br/> +Oh, zounds, sir, directly to be sure. Here she comes. [<i>Exit</i>.] +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +And the old Jezebel with her. +</p> + +<p><i>Re-enter</i> MISS HOYDEN <i>and</i> NURSE. How do you do, good Mrs. +Nurse? I desired your young lady would give me leave to see you, that I might +thank you for your extraordinary care and kind conduct in her education: pray +accept this small acknowledgment for it at present, and depend upon my further +kindness when I shall be that happy thing, her husband. [<i>Gives her +money.</i>] +</p> + +<p>NURSE.<br/> +[<i>Aside</i>.] Gold, by the maakins!—[<i>Aloud</i>.] Your honour’s +goodness is too great. Alas! all I can boast of is, I gave her pure and good +milk, and so your honour would have said, an you had seen how the poor thing +thrived, and how it would look up in my face, and crow and laugh, it would. +</p> + +<p>MISS HOYDEN.<br/> +[<i>To</i> NURSE, <i>taking her angrily aside</i>.] Pray, one word with you. +Pr’ythee, nurse, don’t stand ripping up old stories, to make one +ashamed before one’s love. Do you think such a fine proper gentleman as +he is cares for a fiddlecome tale of a child? If you have a mind to make him +have a good opinion of a woman, don’t tell him what one did then, tell +him what one can do now.—[<i>To</i> Tom FASHION.] I hope your honour will +excuse my mis-manners to whisper before you. It was only to give some orders +about the family. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Oh, everything, madam, is to give way to business; besides, good housewifery is +a very commendable quality in a young lady. +</p> + +<p>MISS HOYDEN.<br/> +Pray, sir, are young ladies good housewives at London-town? Do they darn their +own linen? +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Oh no, they study how to spend money, not to save. +</p> + +<p>MISS HOYDEN.<br/> +Ecod, I don’t know but that may be better sport, eh, nurse? +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Well, you have your choice, when you come there. +</p> + +<p>MISS HOYDEN.<br/> +Shall I? then, by my troth, I’ll get there as fast as I +can.—[<i>To</i> NURSE.] His honour desires you’ll be so kind as to +let us be married tomorrow. +</p> + +<p>NURSE.<br/> +Tomorrow, my dear madam? +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Ay, faith, nurse, you may well be surprised at miss’s wanting to put it +off so long. Tomorrow! no, no; ’tis now, this very hour, I would have the +ceremony performed. +</p> + +<p>MISS HOYDEN.<br/> +Ecod, with all my heart. +</p> + +<p>NURSE.<br/> +O mercy! worse and worse! +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Yes, sweet nurse, now and privately; for all things being signed and sealed, +why should Sir Tunbelly make us stay a week for a wedding-dinner? +</p> + +<p>NURSE.<br/> +But if you should be married now, what will you do when Sir Tunbelly calls for +you to be married? +</p> + +<p>MISS HOYDEN.<br/> +Why then we will be married again. +</p> + +<p>NURSE.<br/> +What twice, my child? +</p> + +<p>MISS HOYDEN.<br/> +Ecod, I don’t care how often I’m married, not I. +</p> + +<p>NURSE.<br/> +Well, I’m such a tender-hearted fool, I find I can refuse you nothing. So +you shall e’en follow your own inventions. +</p> + +<p>MISS HOYDEN.<br/> +Shall I? O Lord, I could leap over the moon! +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Dear nurse, this goodness of yours shall be still more rewarded. But now you +must employ your power with the chaplain, that he may do this friendly office +too, and then we shall be all happy. Do you think you can prevail with him? +</p> + +<p>NURSE.<br/> +Prevail with him! or he shall never prevail with me, I can tell him that. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +I’m glad to hear it; however, to strengthen your interest with him, you +may let him know I have several fat livings in my gift, and that the first that +falls shall be in your disposal. +</p> + +<p>NURSE.<br/> +Nay, then, I’ll make him marry more folks than one, I’ll promise +him! +</p> + +<p>MISS HOYDEN.<br/> +Faith, do, nurse, make him marry you too; I’m sure he’ll do’t +for a fat living. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Well, nurse, while you go and settle matters with him, your lady and I will go +and take a walk in the garden.—[<i>Exit</i> NURSE.] Come, madam, dare you +venture yourself alone with me? [<i>Takes</i> MISS HOYDEN <i>by the hand.] Miss +Hoyd.</i> Oh dear, yes, sir; I don’t think you’ll do anythink to +me, I need be afraid on. [<i>Exeunt.</i>] +</p> + +<h4>SCENE II.—AMANDA’s <i>Dressing-room.</i> </h4> + +<p><i>Enter</i> AMANDA <i>followed by her</i> MAID. +</p> + +<p><i>Maid.</i> If you please, madam, only to say whether you’ll have me +buy them or not? +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +Yes—no—Go, teaser; I care not what you do. Pr’ythee, leave +me. [<i>Exit</i> MAID.] +</p> + +<p><i>Enter</i> BERINTHIA. +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +What, in the name of Jove, is the matter with you? +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +The matter, Berinthia! I’m almost mad; I’m plagued to death. +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +Who is it that plagues you? +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +Who do you think should plague a wife but her husband? +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +O, ho! is it come to that?—We shall have you wish yourself a widow, +by-and-by. +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +Would I were anything but what I am! A base, ungrateful man, to use me thus! +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +What, has he given you fresh reason to suspect his wandering? +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +Every hour gives me reason. +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +And yet, Amanda, you perhaps at this moment cause in another’s breast the +same tormenting doubts and jealousies which you feel so sensibly yourself. +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +Heaven knows I would not. +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +Why, you can’t tell but there may be some one as tenderly attached to +Townly, whom you boast of as your conquest, as you can be to your husband? +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +I’m sure, I never encouraged his pretensions. +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +Psha! psha! no sensible man ever perseveres to love without encouragement. Why +have you not treated him as you have Lord Foppington? +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +Because he presumed not so far. But let us drop the subject. Men, not women, +are riddles. Mr. Loveless now follows some flirt for variety, whom I’m +sure he does not like so well as he does me. +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +That’s more than you know, madam. +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +Why, do you know the ugly thing? +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +I think I can guess at the person; but she’s no such ugly thing neither. +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +Is she very handsome? +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +Truly I think so. +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +Whate’er she be, I’m sure he does not like her well enough to +bestow anything more than a little outward gallantry upon her. +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +[<i>Aside.</i>] Outward gallantry! I can’t bear +this.—[<i>Aloud.</i>] Come, come, don’t you be too secure, Amanda: +while you suffer Townly to imagine that you do not detest him for his designs +on you, you have no right to complain that your husband is engaged elsewhere. +But here comes the person we were speaking of. +</p> + +<p><i>Enter</i> COLONEL TOWNLY. +</p> + +<p>COLONEL TOWNLY.<br/> + Ladies, as I come uninvited, I beg, if I intrude, you will use the same + freedom in turning me out again. +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +I believe it is near the time Loveless said he would be at home. He talked of +accepting Lord Foppington’s invitation to sup at Sir Tunbelly +Clumsy’s. +</p> + +<p>COLONEL TOWNLY.<br/> + His lordship has done me the honour to invite me also. If you’ll let me + escort you, I’ll let you into a mystery as we go, in which you must play + a part when we arrive. +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +But we have two hours yet to spare; the carriages are not ordered till eight, +and it is not a five minutes’ drive. So, cousin, let us keep the colonel +to play at piquet with us, till Mr. Loveless comes home. +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +As you please, madam; but you know I have a letter to write. +</p> + +<p>COLONEL TOWNLY.<br/> + Madam, you know you may command me, though I am a very wretched gamester. +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +Oh, you play well enough to lose your money, and that’s all the ladies +require; and so, without any more ceremony, let us go into the next room, and +call for cards and candles. [<i>Exeunt.</i>] +</p> + +<h4>SCENE III.—BERINTHIA’S <i>Dressing-room.</i> </h4> + +<p><i>Enter</i> LOVELESS. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +So, thus far all’s well: I have got into her dressing-room, and it being +dusk, I think nobody has perceived me steal into the house. I heard Berinthia +tell my wife she had some particular letters to write this evening, before she +went to Sir Tunbelly’s, and here are the implements of +correspondence.—How shall I muster up assurance to show myself, when she +comes? I think she has given me encouragement; and, to do my impudence justice, +I have made the most of it.—I hear a door open, and some one coming. If +it should be my wife, what the devil should I say? I believe she mistrusts me, +and, by my life, I don’t deserve her tenderness. However, I am determined +to reform, though not yet. Ha! Berinthia!—So, I’ll step in here, +till I see what sort of humour she is in. [<i>Goes into the closet</i>.] +</p> + +<p><i>Enter</i> BERINTHIA. +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +Was ever so provoking a situation! To think I should sit and hear him +compliment Amanda to my face! I have lost all patience with them both! I would +not for something have Loveless know what temper of mind they have piqued me +into; yet I can’t bear to leave them together. No, I’ll put my +papers away, and return, to disappoint them.—[<i>Goes to the +closet</i>.]—O Lord! a ghost! a ghost! a ghost! +</p> + +<p><i>Re-enter</i> LOVELESS. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +Peace, my angel; it’s no ghost, but one worth a hundred spirits. +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +How, sir, have you had the insolence to presume to—run in again; +here’s somebody coming. [LOVELESS <i>goes into the closet</i>.] +</p> + +<p><i>Enter</i> MAID. +</p> + +<p>MAID.<br/> +O Lord, ma’am, what’s the matter? +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +O Heavens! I’m almost frightened out of my wits! I thought verily I had +seen a ghost, and ’twas nothing but a black hood pinned against the wall. +You may go again; I am the fearfullest fool! [Exit MAID.] +</p> + +<p><i>Re-enter</i> LOVELESS. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +Is the coast clear? +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +The coast clear! Upon my word, I wonder at your assurance. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +Why, then, you wonder before I have given you a proof of it. But where’s +my wife? +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +At cards. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +With whom? +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +With Townly. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +Then we are safe enough. +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +You are so! Some husbands would be of another mind, were he at cards with their +wives. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +And they’d be in the right on’t, too; but I dare trust mine. +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +Indeed! and she, I doubt not, has the same confidence in you. Yet, do you think +she’d be content to come and find you here? +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +Egad, as you say, that’s true!—Then for fear she should come, +hadn’t we better go into the next room, out of her way? +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +What, in the dark? +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +Ay, or with a light, which you please. +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +You are certainly very impudent. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +Nay, then—let me conduct you, my angel! +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +Hold, hold! you are mistaken in your angel, I assure you. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +I hope not; for by this hand I swear— +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +Come, come, let go my hand, or I shall hate you!—I’ll cry out, as I +live! +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +Impossible! you cannot be so cruel. +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +Ha! here’s some one coming. Begone instantly. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +Will you promise to return, if I remain here? +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +Never trust myself in a room again with you while I live. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +But I have something particular to communicate to you. +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +Well, well, before we go to Sir Tunbelly’s, I’ll walk upon the +lawn. If you are fond of a moonlight evening, you’ll find me there. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +I’faith, they’re coming here now! I take you at your word. [<i>Exit +into the closet</i>.] +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +’Tis Amanda, as I live! I hope she has not heard his voice; though I mean +she should have her share of jealousy in her turn. +</p> + +<p><i>Enter</i> AMANDA. +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +Berinthia, why did you leave me? +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +I thought I only spoiled your party. +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +Since you have been gone, Townly has attempted to renew his importunities. I +must break with him, for I cannot venture to acquaint Mr. Loveless with his +conduct. +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +Oh, no! Mr. Loveless mustn’t know of it by any means. +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +Oh, not for the world—I wish, Berinthia, you would undertake to speak to +Townly on the subject. +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +Upon my word, it would be a very pleasant subject for me to talk upon! But, +come, let us go back; and you may depend on’t I’ll not leave you +together again, if I can help it. [<i>Exeunt</i>.] +</p> + +<p><i>Re-enter</i> LOVELESS. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +So—so! a pretty piece of business I have overheard! Townly makes love to +my wife, and I am not to know it for all the world. I must inquire into +this—and, by Heaven, if I find that Amanda has, in the smallest +degree—yet what have I been at here!—Oh, ’sdeath! +that’s no rule. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +That wife alone unsullied credit wins,<br/> +Whose virtues can atone her husband’s sins,<br/> +Thus, while the man has other nymphs in view,<br/> +It suits the woman to be doubly true.<br/> +[<i>Exit</i>.]<br/> +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3>ACT V.</h3> + +<h4>SCENE I.—<i>The Garden behind</i> LOVELESS’s <i>Lodgings</i>. +</h4> + +<p><i>Enter</i> LOVELESS. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +Now, does she mean to make a fool of me, or not! I shan’t wait much +longer, for my wife will soon be inquiring for me to set out on our supping +party. Suspense is at all times the devil, but of all modes of suspense, the +watching for a loitering mistress is the worst.—But let me accuse her no +longer; she approaches with one smile to o’erpay the anxieties of a year. +</p> + +<p><i>Enter</i> BERINTHIA. O Berinthia, what a world of kindness are you in my +debt! had you stayed five minutes longer— +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +You would have gone, I suppose? +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +Egad, she’s right enough. [<i>Aside.</i>] +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +And I assure you ’twas ten to one that I came at all. In short, I begin +to think you are too dangerous a being to trifle with; and as I shall probably +only make a fool of you at last, I believe we had better let matters rest as +they are. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +You cannot mean it, sure? +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +What more would you have me give to a married man? +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +How doubly cruel to remind me of my misfortunes! +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +A misfortune to be married to so charming a woman as Amanda? +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +I grant her all her merit, but—’sdeath! now see what you have done +by talking of her—she’s here, by all that’s unlucky, and +Townly with her.—I’ll observe them. +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +O Gad, we had better get out of the way; for I should feel as awkward to meet +her as you. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +Ay, if I mistake not, I see Townly coming this way also. I must see a little +into this matter. [<i>Steps aside</i>.] +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +Oh, if that’s your intention, I am no woman if I suffer myself to be +outdone in curiosity. [<i>Goes on the other side</i>.] +</p> + +<p><i>Enter</i> AMANDA. +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +Mr. Loveless come home, and walking on the lawn! I will not suffer him to walk +so late, though perhaps it is to show his neglect of me.—Mr. Loveless, I +must speak with you.—Ha! Townly again!—How I am persecuted! +</p> + +<p><i>Enter</i> COLONEL TOWNLY. +</p> + +<p>COLONEL TOWNLY.<br/> +Madam, you seem disturbed. +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +Sir, I have reason. +</p> + +<p>COLONEL TOWNLY.<br/> +Whatever be the cause, I would to Heaven it were in my power to bear the pain, +or to remove the malady. +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +Your interference can only add to my distress. +</p> + +<p>COLONEL TOWNLY.<br/> +Ah, madam, if it be the sting of unrequited love you suffer from, seek for your +remedy in revenge: weigh well the strength and beauty of your charms, and rouse +up that spirit a woman ought to bear. Disdain the false embraces of a husband. +See at your feet a real lover; his zeal may give him title to your pity, +although his merit cannot claim your love. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +So, so, very fine, i’faith! [<i>Aside</i>.] +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +Why do you presume to talk to me thus? Is this your friendship to Mr. Loveless? +I perceive you will compel me at last to acquaint him with your treachery. +</p> + +<p>COLONEL TOWNLY.<br/> +He could not upbraid me if you were.—He deserves it from me; for he has +not been more false to you than faithless to me. +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +To you? +</p> + +<p>COLONEL TOWNLY.<br/> +Yes, madam; the lady for whom he now deserts those charms which he was never +worthy of, was mine by right; and, I imagine too, by inclination. Yes, madam, +Berinthia, who now— +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +Berinthia! Impossible! +</p> + +<p>COLONEL TOWNLY.<br/> +’Tis true, or may I never merit your attention. She is the deceitful +sorceress who now holds your husband’s heart in bondage. +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +I will not believe it. +</p> + +<p>COLONEL TOWNLY.<br/> +By the faith of a true lover, I speak from conviction. This very day I saw them +together, and overheard— +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +Peace, sir! I will not even listen to such slander—this is a poor device +to work on my resentment, to listen to your insidious addresses. No, sir; +though Mr. Loveless may be capable of error, I am convinced I cannot be +deceived so grossly in him as to believe what you now report; and for +Berinthia, you should have fixed on some more probable person for my rival than +her who is my relation and my friend: for while I am myself free from guilt, I +will never believe that love can beget injury, or confidence create +ingratitude. +</p> + +<p>COLONEL TOWNLY.<br/> +If I do not prove to you— +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +You never shall have an opportunity. From the artful manner in which you first +showed yourself to me, I might have been led, as far as virtue permitted, to +have thought you less criminal than unhappy; but this last unmanly artifice +merits at once my resentment and contempt. [<i>Exit</i>.] +</p> + +<p>COLONEL TOWNLY.<br/> +Sure there’s divinity about her; and she has dispensed some portion of +honour’s light to me: yet can I bear to lose Berinthia without revenge or +compensation? Perhaps she is not so culpable as I thought her. I was mistaken +when I began to think lightly of Amanda’s virtue, and may be in my +censure of my Berinthia. Surely I love her still, for I feel I should be happy +to find myself in the wrong. [<i>Exit</i>.] +</p> + +<p><i>Re-enter</i> LOVELESS <i>and</i> BERINTHIA. +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +Your servant, Mr. Loveless. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +Your servant, madam. +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +Pray what do you think of this? +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +Truly, I don’t know what to say. +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +Don’t you think we steal forth two contemptible creatures? +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +Why, tolerably so, I must confess. +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +And do you conceive it possible for you ever to give Amanda the least +uneasiness again? +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +No, I think we never should indeed. +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +We! why, monster, you don’t pretend that I ever entertained a thought? +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +Why then, sincerely and honestly, Berinthia, there is something in my +wife’s conduct which strikes me so forcibly, that if it were not for +shame, and the fear of hurting you in her opinion, I swear I would follow her, +confess my error, and trust to her generosity for forgiveness. +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +Nay, pr’ythee, don’t let your respect for me prevent you; for as my +object in trifling with you was nothing more than to pique Townly, and as I +perceive he has been actuated by a similar motive, you may depend on’t I +shall make no mystery of the matter to him. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +By no means inform him: for though I may choose to pass by his conduct without +resentment, how will he presume to look me in the face again? +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +How will you presume to look him in the face again? +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +He, who has dared to attempt the honour of my wife! +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +You who have dared to attempt the honour of his mistress! Come, come, be ruled +by me, who affect more levity than I have, and don’t think of anger in +this cause. A readiness to resent injuries is a virtue only in those who are +slow to injure. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +Then I will be ruled by you; and when you think proper to undeceive Townly, may +your good qualities make as sincere a convert of him as Amanda’s have of +me.-When truth’s extorted from us, then we own the robe of virtue is a +sacred habit. +</p> + +<p>Could women but our secret counsel scan—<br/> +Could they but reach the deep reserve of man—<br/> +To keep our love they’d rate their virtue high,<br/> +They live together, and together die.<br/> +</p> + +<p>[<i>Exeunt</i>.] +</p> + +<h4>SCENE II.—<i>A Room in</i> SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY’S <i>House. +Enter</i> MISS HOYDEN, NURSE, <i>and</i> TOM FASHION. </h4> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +This quick despatch of the chaplain’s I take so kindly it shall give him +claim to my favour as long as I live, I assure you. +</p> + +<p>MISS HOYDEN.<br/> +And to mine too, I promise you. +</p> + +<p>NURSE.<br/> +I most humbly thank your honours; and may your children swarm about you like +bees about a honeycomb! +</p> + +<p>MISS HOYDEN.<br/> +Ecod, with all my heart—the more the merrier, I say—ha, nurse? +</p> + +<p><i>Enter</i> LORY. +</p> + +<p>LORY.<br/> +One word with you, for Heaven’s sake. [<i>Taking</i> TOM FASHION +<i>hastily aside</i>.] +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +What the devil’s the matter? +</p> + +<p>LORY.<br/> +Sir, your fortune’s ruined if you are not married. Yonder’s your +brother arrived, with two coaches and six horses, twenty footmen, and a coat +worth fourscore pounds—so judge what will become of your lady’s +heart. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Is he in the house yet? +</p> + +<p>LORY.<br/> +No, they are capitulating with him at the gate. Sir Tunbelly luckily takes him +for an impostor; and I have told him that we have heard of this plot before. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +That’s right.—[<i>Turning to</i> MISS HOYDEN.] My dear, +here’s a troublesome business my man tells me of, but don’t be +frightened; we shall be too hard for the rogue. Here’s an impudent fellow +at the gate (not knowing I was come hither incognito) has taken my name upon +him, in hopes to run away with you. +</p> + +<p>MISS HOYDEN.<br/> +Oh, the brazen-faced varlet! it’s well we are married, or maybe we might +never have been so. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +[<i>Aside</i>.] Egad, like enough.—[<i>Aloud</i>.] Pr’ythee, nurse, +run to Sir Tunbelly, and stop him from going to the gate before I speak to him. +</p> + +<p>NURSE.<br/> +An’t please your honour, my lady and I had better, lock ourselves up till +the danger be over. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Do so, if you please. +</p> + +<p>MISS HOYDEN.<br/> +Not so fast; I won’t be locked up any more, now I’m married. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Yes, pray, my dear, do, till we have seized this rascal. +</p> + +<p>MISS HOYDEN.<br/> +Nay, if you’ll pray me, I’ll do anything. [<i>Exit with</i> NURSE.] +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Hark you, sirrah, things are better than you imagine. The wedding’s over. +</p> + +<p>LORY.<br/> +The devil it is, sir! [<i>Capers about</i>.] +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Not a word—all’s safe—but Sir Tunbelly don’t know it, +nor must not yet. So I am resolved to brazen the brunt of the business out, and +have the pleasure of turning the impostor upon his lordship, which I believe +may easily be done. +</p> + +<p><i>Enter</i> SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. Did you ever hear, sir, of so impudent an +undertaking? +</p> + +<p>SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.<br/> +Never, by the mass; but we’ll tickle him, I’ll warrant you. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +They tell me, sir, he has a great many people with him, disguised like +servants. +</p> + +<p>SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.<br/> +Ay, ay, rogues enow, but we have mastered them. We only fired a few shot over +their heads, and the regiment scoured in an instant.—Here, Tummus, bring +in your prisoner. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +If you please, Sir Tunbelly, it will be best for me not to confront this fellow +yet, till you have heard how far his impudence will carry him. +</p> + +<p>SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.<br/> +Egad, your lordship is an ingenious person. Your lordship, then, will please to +step aside. +</p> + +<p>LORY.<br/> +[<i>Aside</i>.] ’Fore heavens, I applaud my master’s modesty! +[<i>Exit with</i> TOM FASHION.] +</p> + +<p><i>Enter</i> SERVANTS, <i>with</i> LORD FOPPINGTON +</p> + +<p><i>disarmed</i>. +</p> + +<p>SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.<br/> +Come, bring him along, bring him along. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +What the plague do you mean, gentlemen? is it fair time, that you are all drunk +before supper? +</p> + +<p>SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.<br/> +Drunk, sirrah! here’s an impudent rogue for you now. Drunk or sober, +bully, I’m a justice o’ the peace, and know how to deal with +strollers. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +Strollers! +</p> + +<p>SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.<br/> +Ay, strollers. Come, give an account of yourself. What’s your name? where +do you live? do you pay scot and lot? Come, are you a freeholder or a +copyholder? +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +And why dost thou ask me so many impertinent questions? +</p> + +<p>SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.<br/> +Because I’ll make you answer ’em, before I have done with you, you +rascal, you! +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +Before Gad, all the answer I can make to them is, that you are a very +extraordinary old fellow, stap my vitals. +</p> + +<p>SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.<br/> +Nay, if thou art joking deputy-lieutenants, we know how to deal with +you.—Here, draw a warrant for him immediately. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +A warrant! What the devil is’t thou wouldst be at, old gentleman? +</p> + +<p>SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.<br/> +I would be at you, sirrah, (if my hands were not tied as a magistrate,) and +with these two double fists beat your teeth down your throat, you dog, you! +[<i>Driving him</i>.] +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +And why wouldst thou spoil my face at that rate? +</p> + +<p>SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.<br/> +For your design to rob me of my daughter, villain. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +Rob thee of thy daughter! Now do I begin to believe I am in bed and asleep, and +that all this is but a dream. Pr’ythee, old father, wilt thou give me +leave to ask thee one question? +</p> + +<p>SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.<br/> +I can’t tell whether I will or not, till I know what it is. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +Why, then, it is, whether thou didst not write to my Lord Foppington, to come +down and marry thy daughter? +</p> + +<p>SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.<br/> +Yes, marry, did I, and my Lord Foppington is come down, and shall marry my +daughter before she’s a day older. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> + Now give me thy hand, old dad; I thought we should understand one another at + last. +</p> + +<p>SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.<br/> +The fellow’s mad!—Here, bind him hand and foot. [<i>They bind +him.</i>] +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> + Nay, pr’ythee, knight, leave fooling; thy jest begins to grow dull. +</p> + +<p>SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.<br/> +Bind him, I say—he’s mad: bread and water, a dark room, and a whip, +may bring him to his senses again. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> + Pr’ythee, Sir Tunbelly, why should you take such an aversion to the + freedom of my address as to suffer the rascals thus to skewer down my arms + like a rabbit?—[<i>Aside.</i>] Egad, if I don’t awake, by all that + I can see, this is like to prove one of the most impertinent dreams that ever + I dreamt in my life. +</p> + +<p><i>Re-enter</i> MISS HOYDEN <i>and</i> NURSE. +</p> + +<p>MISS HOYDEN.<br/> +[<i>Going up to</i> LORD FOPPINGTON.] Is this he that would have +run—Fough, how he stinks of sweets!—Pray, father, let him be +dragged through the horse-pond. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> + This must be my wife, by her natural inclination to her husband. + [<i>Aside.</i>] +</p> + +<p>MISS HOYDEN.<br/> +Pray, father, what do you intend to do with him—hang him? +</p> + +<p>SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.<br/> +That, at least, child. +</p> + +<p>NURSE.<br/> +Ay, and it’s e’en too good for him too. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> + Madame la gouvernante, I presume: hitherto this appears to me to be one of the + most extraordinary families that ever man of quality matched into. + [<i>Aside.</i>] +</p> + +<p>SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.<br/> +What’s become of my lord, daughter? +</p> + +<p>MISS HOYDEN.<br/> +He’s just coming, sir. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> + My lord! what does he mean by that, now? [<i>Aside.</i>] +</p> + +<p><i>Re-enter</i> TOM FASHION <i>and</i> LORY. Stap my vitals, Tam, now the +dream’s out! [<i>Runs.</i>] +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Is this the fellow, sir, that designed to trick me of your daughter? +</p> + +<p>SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.<br/> +This is he, my lord. How do you like him? Is not he a pretty fellow to get a +fortune? +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +I find by his dress he thought your daughter might be taken with a beau. +</p> + +<p>MISS HOYDEN.<br/> +Oh, gemini! is this a beau? let me see him again. [<i>Surveys him</i>.] Ha! I +find a beau is no such ugly thing, neither. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +[<i>Aside</i>.] Egad, she’ll be in love with him +presently—I’ll e’en have him sent away to +jail.—[<i>To</i> LORD FOPPINGTON.] Sir, though your undertaking shows you +a person of no extraordinary modesty, I suppose you ha’n’t +confidence enough to expect much favour from me? +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +Strike me dumb, Tam, thou art a very impudent fellow. +</p> + +<p>NURSE.<br/> +Look, if the varlet has not the effrontery to call his lordship plain Thomas! +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +My Lord Foppington, shall I beg one word with your lordship? +</p> + +<p>NURSE.<br/> +Ho, ho! it’s my lord with him now! See how afflictions will humble folks. +</p> + +<p>MISS HOYDEN.<br/> +Pray, my lord—[<i>To</i> FASHION]—don’t let him whisper too +close, lest he bite your ear off. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +I am not altogether so hungry as your ladyship is pleased to +imagine.—[<i>Aside to</i> TOM FASHION.] Look you, Tam, I am sensible I +have not been so kind to you as I ought, but I hope you’ll forgive +what’s past, and accept of the five thousand pounds I offer—thou +mayst live in extreme splendour with it, stap my vitals! +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +It’s a much easier matter to prevent a disease than to cure it. A quarter +of that sum would have secured your mistress, twice as much cannot redeem her. +[<i>Aside to</i> LORD FOPPINGTON.] +</p> + +<p>SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.<br/> +Well, what says he? +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Only the rascal offered me a bribe to let him go. +</p> + +<p>SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.<br/> +Ay, he shall go, with a plague to him!—lead on, constable. +</p> + +<p><i>Enter</i> SERVANT. +</p> + +<p>SERVANT.<br/> +Sir, here is Muster Loveless, and Muster Colonel Townly, and some ladies to +wait on you. [<i>To</i> TOM FASHION.] +</p> + +<p>LORY.<br/> +[<i>Aside to</i> TOM FASHION.] So, sir, what will you do now? +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +[<i>Aside to</i> LORY.] Be quiet; they are in the plot.—[<i>Aloud</i>.] +Only a few friends, Sir Tunbelly, whom I wish to introduce to you. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +Thou art the most impudent fellow, Tam, that ever nature yet brought into the +world.—Sir Tunbelly, strike me speechless, but these are my friends and +acquaintance, and my guests, and they will soon inform thee whether I am the +true Lord Foppington or not. +</p> + +<p><i>Enter</i> LOVELESS, COLONEL TOWNLY, AMANDA, <i>and</i> +BERINTHIA.—LORD FOPPINGTON <i>accosts them as they pass, but none answer +him. Fash</i>.<br/> +So, gentlemen, this is friendly; I rejoice to see you. +</p> + +<p>COLONEL TOWNLY.<br/> +My lord, we are fortunate to be the witnesses of your lordship’s +happiness. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +But your lordship will do us the honour to introduce us to Sir Tunbelly Clumsy? +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +And us to your lady. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +Gad take me, but they are all in a story! [<i>Aside</i>.] +</p> + +<p>SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.<br/> +Gentlemen, you do me much honour; my Lord Foppington’s friends will ever +be welcome to me and mine. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +My love, let me introduce you to these ladies. +</p> + +<p>MISS HOYDEN.<br/> +By goles, they look so fine and so stiff, I am almost ashamed to come nigh +’em. +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +A most engaging lady indeed! +</p> + +<p>MISS HOYDEN.<br/> +Thank ye, ma’am. +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +And I doubt not will soon distinguish herself in the beau monde. +</p> + +<p>MISS HOYDEN.<br/> +Where is that? +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +You’ll soon learn, my dear. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +But Lord Foppington— +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +Sir! +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +Sir! I was not addressing myself to you, sir!—Pray who is this gentleman? +He seems rather in a singular predicament— +</p> + +<p>COLONEL TOWNLY.<br/> +For so well-dressed a person, a little oddly circumstanced, indeed. +</p> + +<p>SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.<br/> +Ha! ha! ha!—So, these are your friends and your guests, ha, my +adventurer? +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +I am struck dumb with their impudence, and cannot positively say whether I +shall ever speak again or not. +</p> + +<p>SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.<br/> +Why, sir, this modest gentleman wanted to pass himself upon me as Lord +Foppington, and carry off my daughter. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +A likely plot to succeed, truly, ha! ha! +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> + As Gad shall judge me, Loveless, I did not expect this from thee. Come, + pr’ythee confess the joke; tell Sir Tunbelly that I am the real Lord + Foppington, who yesterday made love to thy wife; was honoured by her with a + slap on the face, and afterwards pinked through the body by thee. +</p> + +<p>SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.<br/> +A likely story, truly, that a peer would behave thus. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +A pretty fellow, indeed, that would scandalize the character he wants to +assume; but what will you do with him, Sir Tunbelly? +</p> + +<p>SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.<br/> +Commit him, certainly, unless the bride and bridegroom choose to pardon him. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> + Bride and bridegroom! For Gad’s sake, Sir Tunbelly, ’tis tarture + to me to hear you call ’em so. +</p> + +<p>MISS HOYDEN.<br/> +Why, you ugly thing, what would you have him call us—dog and cat? +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> + By no means, miss; for that sounds ten times more like man and wife than + t’other. +</p> + +<p>SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.<br/> +A precious rogue this to come a-wooing! +</p> + +<p><i>Re-enter</i> SERVANT. +</p> + +<p>SERVANT.<br/> +There are some gentlefolks below to wait upon Lord Foppington. [<i>Exit.</i>] +</p> + +<p>COLONEL TOWNLY.<br/> + ’Sdeath, Tom, what will you do now? [<i>Aside to</i> TOM FASHION.] +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> + Now, Sir Tunbelly, here are witnesses who I believe are not corrupted. +</p> + +<p>SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.<br/> +Peace, fellow!—Would your lordship choose to have your guests shown here, +or shall they wait till we come to ’em? +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +I believe, Sir Tunbelly, we had better not have these visitors here +yet.—[<i>Aside</i>.] Egad, all must out. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +Confess, confess; we’ll stand by you. [<i>Aside to</i> TOM FASHION.] +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> + Nay, Sir Tunbelly, I insist on your calling evidence on both sides—and + if I do not prove that fellow an impostor— +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Brother, I will save you the trouble, by now confessing that I am not what I +have passed myself for.—Sir Tunbelly, I am a gentleman, and I flatter +myself a man of character; but’tis with great pride I assure you I am not +Lord Foppington. +</p> + +<p>SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.<br/> +Ouns!—what’s this?—an impostor?—a cheat?—fire and +faggots, sir, if you are not Lord Foppington, who the devil are you? +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Sir, the best of my condition is, I am your son-in-law; and the worst of it is, +I am brother to that noble peer. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +Impudent to the last, Gad dem me! +</p> + +<p>SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.<br/> +My son-in-law! not yet, I hope. +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Pardon me, sir; thanks to the goodness of your chaplain, and the kind offices +of this gentlewoman. +</p> + +<p>LORY.<br/> +’Tis true indeed, sir; I gave your daughter away, and Mrs. Nurse, here, +was clerk. +</p> + +<p>SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.<br/> +Knock that rascal down!—But speak, Jezebel, how’s this? +</p> + +<p>NURSE.<br/> +Alas! your honour, forgive me; I have been overreached in this business as well +as you. Your worship knows, if the wedding-dinner had been ready, you would +have given her away with your own hands. +</p> + +<p>SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.<br/> +But how durst you do this without acquainting me? +</p> + +<p>NURSE.<br/> +Alas! if your worship had seen how the poor thing begged and prayed, and clung +and twined about me like ivy round an old wall, you would say, I who had nursed +it, and reared it, must have had a heart like stone to refuse it. +</p> + +<p>SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.<br/> +Ouns! I shall go mad! Unloose my lord there, you scoundrels! +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +Why, when these gentlemen are at leisure, I should be glad to congratulate you +on your son-in-law, with a little more freedom of address. +</p> + +<p>MISS HOYDEN.<br/> +Egad, though, I don’t see which is to be my husband after all. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +Come, come, Sir Tunbelly, a man of your understanding must perceive that an +affair of this kind is not to be mended by anger and reproaches. +</p> + +<p>COLONEL TOWNLY.<br/> +Take my word for it, Sir Tunbelly, you are only tricked into a son-in-law you +may be proud of: my friend Tom Fashion is as honest a fellow as ever breathed. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +That he is, depend on’t; and will hunt or drink with you most +affectionately: be generous, old boy, and forgive them— +</p> + +<p>SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.<br/> +Never! the hussy!—when I had set my heart on getting her a title. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +Now, Sir Tunbelly, that I am untrussed—give me leave to thank thee for +the very extraordinary reception I have met with in thy damned, execrable +mansion; and at the same time to assure you, that of all the bumpkins and +blockheads I have had the misfortune to meek with, thou art the most obstinate +and egregious, strike me ugly! +</p> + +<p>SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.<br/> +What’s this! I believe you are both rogues alike. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +No, Sir Tunbelly, thou wilt find to thy unspeakable mortification, that I am +the real Lord Foppington, who was to have disgraced myself by an alliance with +a clod; and that thou hast matched thy girl to a beggarly younger brother of +mine, whose title deeds might be contained in thy tobacco-box. +</p> + +<p>SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.<br/> +Puppy! puppy!—I might prevent their being beggars, if I chose it; for I +could give ’em as good a rent-roll as your lordship. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +Ay, old fellow, but you will not do that—for that would be acting like a +Christian, and thou art a barbarian, stap my vitals. +</p> + +<p>SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.<br/> +Udzookers! now six such words more, and I’ll forgive them directly. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +’Slife, Sir Tunbelly, you should do it, and bless yourself—Ladies, +what say you? +</p> + +<p>AMANDA.<br/> +Good Sir Tunbelly, you must consent. +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +Come, you have been young yourself, Sir Tunbelly. +</p> + +<p>SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.<br/> +Well then, if I must, I must; but turn—turn that sneering lord out, +however, and let me be revenged on somebody. But first look whether I am a +barbarian or not; there, children, I join your hands; and when I’m in a +better humour, I’ll give you my blessing. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +Nobly done, Sir Tunbelly! and we shall see you dance at a grandson’s +christening yet. +</p> + +<p>MISS HOYDEN.<br/> +By goles, though, I don’t understand this! What! an’t I to be a +lady after all? only plain Mrs.—What’s my husband’s name, +nurse? +</p> + +<p>NURSE.<br/> +Squire Fashion. +</p> + +<p>MISS HOYDEN.<br/> +Squire, is he?—Well, that’s better than nothing. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +[<i>Aside</i>.] Now I will put on a philosophic air, and show these people, +that it is not possible to put a man of my quality out of +countenance.—[<i>Aloud</i>.] Dear Tam, since things are fallen out, +pr’ythee give me leave to wish thee joy; I do it <i>de bon coeur</i>, +strike me dumb! You have married into a family of great politeness and uncommon +elegance of manners, and your bride appears to be a lady beautiful in person, +modest in her deportment, refined in her sentiments, and of nice morality, +split my windpipe! +</p> + +<p>MISS HOYDEN.<br/> +By goles, husband, break his bones if he calls me names! +</p> + +<p>TOM FASHION.<br/> +Your lordship may keep up your spirits with your grimace, if you please; I +shall support mine, by Sir Tunbelly’s favour, with this lady and three +thousand pounds a year. +</p> + +<p>LORD FOPPINGTON.<br/> +Well, adieu, Tam!—Ladies, I kiss your, hands!—Sir Tunbelly, I shall +now quit this thy den; but while I retain the use of my arms, I shall ever +remember thou art a demned horrid savage; Ged demn me! [<i>Exit</i>.] +</p> + +<p>SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.<br/> +By the mass, ’tis well he’s gone—for I should ha’ been +provoked, by-and-by, to ha’ dun un a mischief. Well, if this is a lord, I +think Hoyden has luck on her side, in troth. +</p> + +<p>COLONEL TOWNLY.<br/> +She has, indeed, Sir Tunbelly.—But I hear the fiddles; his lordship, I +know, has provided ’em. +</p> + +<p>LOVELESS.<br/> +Oh, a dance and a bottle, Sir Tunbelly, by all means! +</p> + +<p>SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.<br/> +I had forgot the company below; well—what—we must be merry, then, +ha? and dance and drink, ha? Well, ’fore George, you shan’t say I +do these things by halves. Son-in-law there looks like a hearty rogue, so +we’ll have a night on’t: and which of these ladies will be the old +man’s partner, ha?—Ecod, I don’t know how I came to be in so +good a humour. +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +Well, Sir Tunbelly, my friend and I both will endeavour to keep you so: you +have done a generous action, and are entitled to our attention. If you should +be at a loss to divert your new guests, we will assist you to relate to them +the plot of your daughter’s marriage, and his lordship’s deserved +mortification; a subject which perhaps may afford no bad evening’s +entertainment. +</p> + +<p>SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.<br/> +Ecod, with all my heart; though I am a main bungler at a long story. +</p> + +<p>BERINTHIA.<br/> +Never fear; we will assist you, if the tale is judged worth being repeated; but +of this you may be assured, that while the intention is evidently to please, +British auditors will ever be indulgent to the errors of the performance. +[Exeunt omnes.] +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap02"></a>The Critic</h2> + +<p> OR, A TRAGEDY REHEARSED <i>A DRAMATIC PIECE IN THREE ACTS</i> TO MRS. +GREVILLE +</p> + +<p>MADAM,<br/> +    In requesting your permission to address the following pages to you, which, +as they aim themselves to be critical, require every protection and allowance +that approving taste or friendly prejudice can give them, I yet ventured to +mention no other motive than the gratification of private friendship and +esteem. Had I suggested a hope that your implied approbation would give a +sanction to their defects, your particular reserve, and dislike to the +reputation of critical taste, as well as of poetical talent, would have made +you refuse the protection of your name to such a purpose. However, I am not so +ungrateful as now to attempt to combat this disposition in you. I shall not +here presume to argue that the present state of poetry claims and expects every +assistance that taste and example can afford it; nor endeavour to prove that a +fastidious concealment of the most elegant productions of judgment and fancy is +an ill return for the possession of those endowments. Continue to deceive +yourself in the idea that you are known only to be eminently admired and +regarded for the valuable qualities that attach private friendships, and the +graceful talents that adorn conversation. Enough of what you have written has +stolen into full public notice to answer my purpose; and you will, perhaps, be +the only person, conversant in elegant literature, who shall read this address +and not perceive that by publishing your particular approbation of the +following drama, I have a more interested object than to boast the true respect +and regard with which<br/> +    I have the honour to be,<br/> +        Madam,<br/> +            your very sincere<br/> +                and obedient humble servant,<br/> +                    R. B. SHERIDAN. +</p> + +<h4>DRAMATIS PERSONAE<br/> +AS ORIGINALLY ACTED AT DRURY LANE THEATRE IN 1779</h4> + +<p>SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY. <i>Mr. Parsons</i>.<br/> +PUFF. <i>Mr. King</i>.<br/> +DANGLE. <i>Mr. Dodd</i><br/> +SNEER. <i>Mr. Palmer</i>.<br/> +SIGNOR PASTICCIO RITORNELLO. <i>Mr. Delpini</i>.<br/> +INTERPRETER. <i>Mr. Baddeley</i>.<br/> +UNDER PROMPTER. <i>Mr. Phillimore</i>.<br/> +MR. HOPKINS. <i>Mr. Hopkins</i>.<br/> +MRS. DANGLE. <i>Mrs. Hopkins</i>.<br/> +SIGNORE PASTICCIO RITORNELLO. <i>Miss Field and the Miss Abrams</i>. +</p> + +<p>Scenemen, Musicians, <i>and</i> Servants. +</p> + +<p>CHARACTERS OF THE TRAGEDY +</p> + +<p> LORD BURLEIGH. <i>Mr. Moody</i>.<br/> +GOVERNOR OF TILBURY FORT. <i>Mr. Wrighten</i>.<br/> +EARL OF LEICESTER. <i>Mr. Farren</i>.<br/> +SIR WALTER RALEIGH. <i>Mr. Burton</i>.<br/> +SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON. <i>Mr. Waldron</i>.<br/> +MASTER OF THE HORSE. <i>Mr. Kenny</i>.<br/> +DON FEROLO WHISKERANDOS. <i>Mr. Bannister, jun</i>.<br/> +BEEFEATER. <i>Mr. Wright</i>.<br/> +JUSTICE. <i>Mr. Packer</i>.<br/> +SON. <i>Mr. Lamash</i>.<br/> +CONSTABLE. <i>Mr. Fawcett</i>.<br/> +THAMES. <i>Mr. Gawdry</i>.<br/> +TILBURINA. <i>Miss Pope</i>.<br/> +CONFIDANT. <i>Mrs. Bradshaw</i>.<br/> +JUSTICE’s LADY. <i>Mrs. Johnston</i>.<br/> +FIRST NIECE. <i>Miss Collett</i>.<br/> +SECOND NIECE. <i>Miss Kirby</i>.<br/> +</p> + +<p>Knights, Guards, Constables, Sentinels, Servants, Chorus, Rivers, +Attendants, &c., &c. +</p> + +<h4> SCENE—LONDON: <i>in</i> DANGLES <i>House during the First Act,<br/> +and throughout the rest of the Play in</i> DRURY LANE THEATRE. </h4> + +<h4> PROLOGUE<br/> +BY THE HONOURABLE RICHARD FITZPATRICK<br/> +</h4> + +<p>The sister Muses, whom these realms obey,<br/> +Who o’er the drama hold divided sway,<br/> +Sometimes by evil counsellors, ’tis said,<br/> +Like earth-born potentates have been misled.<br/> +In those gay days of wickedness and wit,<br/> +When Villiers criticised what Dryden writ,<br/> +The tragic queen, to please a tasteless crowd,<br/> +Had learn’d to bellow, rant, and roar so loud,<br/> +That frighten’d Nature, her best friend before,<br/> +The blustering beldam’s company foreswore;<br/> +Her comic sister, who had wit ’tis true,<br/> +With all her merits, had her failings too:<br/> +And would sometimes in mirthful moments use<br/> +A style too flippant for a well-bred muse;<br/> +Then female modesty abash’d began<br/> +To seek the friendly refuge of the fan,<br/> +Awhile behind that slight intrenchment stood,<br/> +Till driven from thence, she left the stage for good.<br/> +In our more pious, and far chaster times,<br/> +These sure no longer are the Muse’s crimes!<br/> +But some complain that, former faults to shun,<br/> +The reformation to extremes has run.<br/> +The frantic hero’s wild delirium past,<br/> +Now insipidity succeeds bombast:<br/> +So slow Melpomene’s cold numbers creep,<br/> +Here dulness seems her drowsy court to keep,<br/> +And we are scarce awake, whilst you are fast asleep.<br/> +Thalia, once so ill-behaved and rude,<br/> +Reform’d, is now become an arrant prude;<br/> +Retailing nightly to the yawning pit<br/> +The purest morals, undefiled by wit!<br/> +Our author offers, in these motley scenes,<br/> +A slight remonstrance to the drama’s queens:<br/> +Nor let the goddesses be over nice;<br/> +Free-spoken subjects give the best advice.<br/> +Although not quite a novice in his trade,<br/> +His cause tonight requires no common aid.<br/> +To this, a friendly, just, and powerful court,<br/> +I come ambassador to beg support.<br/> +Can he undaunted brave the critic’s rage?<br/> +In civil broils with brother bards engage?<br/> +Hold forth their errors to the public eye,<br/> +Nay more, e’en newspapers themselves defy?<br/> +Say, must his single arm encounter all?<br/> +By number vanquish’d, e’en the brave may fall;<br/> +And though no leader should success distrust,<br/> +Whose troops are willing, and whose cause is just;<br/> +To bid such hosts of angry foes defiance,<br/> +His chief dependence must be, your alliance.<br/> +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3>ACT I.</h3> + +<h4>SCENE I.—<i>A Room in</i> DANGLE’s <i>House</i>. Mr. <i>and</i> +MRS. DANGLE <i>discovered at breakfast, and reading newspapers</i>. </h4> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +[<i>Reading.</i>] Brutus to Lord North.—Letter the second on the State of +the Army—Psha! <i>To the first L dash D of the A dash Y.—Genuine +extract of a Letter from St. Kitt’s.—Coxheath +Intelligence.—It is now confidently asserted that Sir Charles +Hardy</i>—Psha! nothing but about the fleet and the nation!—and I +hate all politics but theatrical politics.—Where’s the Morning +Chronicle? +</p> + +<p>MRS. DANGLE.<br/> +Yes, that’s your Gazette. +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +So, here we have it.—[<i>Reads.</i>] Theatrical intelligence +extraordinary.—We hear there is a new tragedy in rehearsal at Drury Lane +Theatre, called the Spanish Armada, said to be written by Mr. Puff, a gentleman +well-known in the theatrical world. If we may allow ourselves to give credit to +the report of the performers, who, truth to say, are in general but indifferent +judges, this piece abounds with the most striking and received beauties of +modern composition.—So! I am very glad my friend Puff’s tragedy is +in such forwardness.—Mrs. Dangle, my dear, you will be very glad to hear +that Puff’s tragedy— +</p> + +<p>MRS. DANGLE.<br/> +Lord, Mr. Dangle, why will you plague me about such nonsense?—Now the +plays are begun I shall have no peace.—Isn’t it sufficient to make +yourself ridiculous by your passion for the theatre, without continually +teasing me to join you? Why can’t you ride your hobby-horse without +desiring to place me on a pillion behind you, Mr. Dangle? +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +Nay, my dear, I was only going to read— +</p> + +<p>MRS. DANGLE.<br/> +No, no; you will never read anything that’s worth listening to. You hate +to hear about your country; there are letters every day with Roman signatures, +demonstrating the certainty of an invasion, and proving that the nation is +utterly undone. But you never will read anything to entertain one. +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +What has a woman to do with politics, Mrs. Dangle? +</p> + +<p>MRS. DANGLE.<br/> +And what have you to do with the theatre, Mr. Dangle? Why should you affect the +character of a critic? I have no patience with you!—haven’t you +made yourself the jest of all your acquaintance by your interference in matters +where you have no business? Are you not called a theatrical Quidnunc, and a +mock Maecenas to second-hand authors? +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +True; my power with the managers is pretty notorious. But is it no credit to +have applications from all quarters for my interest—from lords to +recommend fiddlers, from ladies to get boxes, from authors to get answers, and +from actors to get engagements? +</p> + +<p>MRS. DANGLE.<br/> +Yes, truly; you have contrived to get a share in all the plague and trouble of +theatrical property, without the profit, or even the credit of the abuse that +attends it. +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +I am sure, Mrs. Dangle, you are no loser by it, however; you have all the +advantages of it. Mightn’t you, last winter, have had the reading of the +new pantomime a fortnight previous to its performance? And doesn’t Mr. +Fosbrook let you take places for a play before it is advertised, and set you +down for a box for every new piece through the season? And didn’t my +friend, Mr. Smatter, dedicate his last farce to you at my particular request, +Mrs. Dangle? +</p> + +<p>MRS. DANGLE.<br/> +Yes; but wasn’t the farce damned, Mr. Dangle? And to be sure it is +extremely pleasant to have one’s house made the motley rendezvous of all +the lackeys of literature; the very high ’Change of trading authors and +jobbing critics!—Yes, my drawing-room is an absolute register-office for +candidate actors, and poets without character.—Then to be continually +alarmed with misses and ma’ams piping hysteric changes on Juliets and +Dorindas, Pollys and Ophelias; and the very furniture trembling at the +probationary starts and unprovoked rants of would-be Richards and +Hamlets!—And what is worse than all, now that the manager has monopolized +the Opera House, haven’t we the signors and signoras calling here, +sliding their smooth semibreves, and gargling glib divisions in their +outlandish throats—with foreign emissaries and French spies, for aught I +know, disguised like fiddlers and figure dancers? +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +Mercy! Mrs. Dangle! +</p> + +<p>MRS. DANGLE.<br/> +And to employ yourself so idly at such an alarming crisis as this +too—when, if you had the least spirit, you would have been at the head of +one of the Westminster associations—or trailing a volunteer pike in the +Artillery Ground! But you—o’ my conscience, I believe, if the +French were landed tomorrow, your first inquiry would be, whether they had +brought a theatrical troop with them. +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +Mrs. Dangle, it does not signify—I say the stage is ‘the mirror of +nature’, and the actors are ‘the Abstract and brief Chronicles of +the Time’: and pray what can a man of sense study better?—Besides, +you will not easily persuade me that there is no credit or importance in being +at the head of a band of critics, who take upon them to decide for the whole +town, whose opinion and patronage all writers solicit, and whose recommendation +no manager dares refuse. +</p> + +<p>MRS. DANGLE.<br/> +Ridiculous!—Both managers and authors of the least merit laugh at your +pretensions.—The public is their critic—without whose fair +approbation they know no play can rest on the stage, and with whose applause +they welcome such attacks as yours, and laugh at the malice of them, where they +can’t at the wit. +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +Very well, madam—very well! +</p> + +<p><i>Enter</i> SERVANT. +</p> + +<p>SERVANT.<br/> +Mr. Sneer, sir, to wait on you. +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +Oh, show Mr. Sneer up.—[<i>Exit</i> SERVANT.]—Plague on’t, +now we must appear loving and affectionate, or Sneer will hitch us into a +story. +</p> + +<p>MRS. DANGLE.<br/> +With all my heart; you can’t be more ridiculous than you are. +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +You are enough to provoke— +</p> + +<p><i>Enter</i> SNEER. Ha! my dear Sneer, I am vastly glad to see you.—My +dear, here’s Mr. Sneer. +</p> + +<p>MRS. DANGLE.<br/> +Good-morning to you, sir. +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +Mrs. Dangle and I have been diverting ourselves with the papers. Pray, Sneer, +won’t you go to Drury Lane Theatre the first night of Puff’s +tragedy? +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Yes; but I suppose one shan’t be able to get in, for on the first night +of a new piece they always fill the house with orders to support it. But here, +Dangle, I have brought you two pieces, one of which you must exert yourself to +make the managers accept, I can tell you that; for’tis written by a +person of consequence. +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +So! now my plagues are beginning. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Ay, I am glad of it, for now you’ll be happy. Why, my dear Dangle, it is +a pleasure to see how you enjoy your volunteer fatigue, and your solicited +solicitations. +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +It’s a great trouble—yet, egad, it’s pleasant too.—Why, +sometimes of a morning I have a dozen people call on me at breakfast-time, +whose faces I never saw before, nor ever desire to see again. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +That must be very pleasant indeed! +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +And not a week but I receive fifty letters, and not a line in them about any +business of my own. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +An amusing correspondence! +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +[<i>Reading</i>.] <i>Bursts into tears and exit</i>.—What, is this a +tragedy? +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +No, that’s a genteel comedy, not a translation—only taken from the +French: it is written in a style which they have lately tried to run down; the +true sentimental, and nothing ridiculous in it from the beginning to the end. +</p> + +<p>MRS. DANGLE.<br/> +Well, if they had kept to that, I should not have been such an enemy to the +stage; there was some edification to be got from those pieces, Mr. Sneer! +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +I am quite of your opinion, Mrs. Dangle: the theatre, in proper hands, might +certainly be made the school of morality; but now, I am sorry to say it, people +seem to go there principally for their entertainment! +</p> + +<p>MRS. DANGLE.<br/> +It would have been more to the credit of the managers to have kept it in the +other line. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Undoubtedly, madam; and hereafter perhaps to have had it recorded, that in the +midst of a luxurious and dissipated age, they preserved two houses in the +capital, where the conversation was always moral at least, if not entertaining! +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +Now, egad, I think the worst alteration is in the nicety of the +audience!—No <i>double-entendre</i>, no smart innuendo admitted; even +Vanbrugh and Congreve obliged to undergo a bungling reformation! +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Yes, and our prudery in this respect is just on a par with the artificial +bashfulness of a courtesan, who increases the blush upon her cheek in an exact +proportion to the diminution of her modesty. +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +Sneer can’t even give the public a good word! But what have we +here?—This seems a very odd— +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Oh, that’s a comedy on a very new plan; replete with wit and mirth, yet +of a most serious moral! You see it is called <i>The Reformed +House-breaker</i>; where, by the mere force of humour, house-breaking is put in +so ridiculous a light, that if the piece has its proper run, I have no doubt +but that bolts and bars will be entirely useless by the end of the season. +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +Egad, this is new indeed! +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Yes; it is written by a particular friend of mine, who has discovered that the +follies and foibles of society are subjects unworthy the notice of the comic +muse, who should be taught to stoop only to the greater vices and blacker +crimes of humanity—gibbeting capital offences in five acts, and +pillorying petty larcenies in two.—In short, his idea is to dramatize the +penal laws, and make the stage a court of ease to the Old Bailey. +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +It is truly moral. +</p> + +<p><i>Re-enter</i> SERVANT. +</p> + +<p>SERVANT.<br/> +Sir Fretful Plagiary, sir. +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +Beg him to walk up.—[<i>Exit</i> SERVANT.] Now, Mrs. Dangle, Sir Fretful +Plagiary is an author to your own taste. +</p> + +<p>MRS. DANGLE.<br/> +I confess he is a favourite of mine, because everybody else abuses him. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Very much to the credit of your charity, madam, if not of your judgment. +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +But, egad, he allows no merit to any author but himself, that’s the truth +on’t—though he’s my friend. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Never.—He is as envious as an old maid verging on the desperation of six +and thirty; and then the insidious humility with which he seduces you to give a +free opinion on any of his works, can be exceeded only by the petulant +arrogance with which he is sure to reject your observations. +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +Very true, egad—though he’s my friend. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Then his affected contempt of all newspaper strictures; though, at the same +time, he is the sorest man alive, and shrinks like scorched parchment from the +fiery ordeal of true criticism: yet he is so covetous of popularity, that he +had rather be abused than not mentioned at all. +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +There’s no denying it—though he is my friend. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +You have read the tragedy he has just finished, haven’t you? +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +Oh, yes; he sent it to me yesterday. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Well, and you think it execrable, don’t you? +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +Why, between ourselves, egad, I must own—though he is my +friend—that it is one of the most—He’s +here—[<i>Aside</i>.]—finished and most admirable perform— +</p> + +<p>SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY.<br/> [<i>Without</i>.] Mr. Sneer with him did you say? +</p> + +<p><i>Enter</i> SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY. +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +Ah, my dear friend!—Egad, we were just speaking of your +tragedy.—Admirable, Sir Fretful, admirable! +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +You never did anything beyond it, Sir Fretful—never in your life. +</p> + +<p>SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY.<br/> +You make me extremely happy; for without a compliment, my dear Sneer, there +isn’t a man in the world whose judgment I value as I do yours and Mr. +Dangle’s. +</p> + +<p>MRS. DANGLE.<br/> +They are only laughing at you, Sir Fretful; for it was but just now that— +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +Mrs. Dangle!—Ah, Sir Fretful, you know Mrs. Dangle.—My friend Sneer +was rallying just now:—he knows how she admires you, and— +</p> + +<p>SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY.<br/> +O Lord, I am sure Mr. Sneer has more taste and sincerity than +to—[<i>Aside</i>.] A damned double-faced fellow! +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +Yes, yes—Sneer will jest—but a better humoured— +</p> + +<p>SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY.<br/> +Oh, I know— +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +He has a ready turn for ridicule—his wit costs him nothing. +</p> + +<p>SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY.<br/> +No, egad—or I should wonder how he came by it. [<i>Aside</i>.] +</p> + +<p>MRS. DANGLE.<br/> +Because his jest is always at the expense of his friend. [<i>Aside</i>.] +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +But, Sir Fretful, have you sent your play to the managers yet?—or can I +be of any service to you? +</p> + +<p>SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY.<br/> +No, no, I thank you: I believe the piece had sufficient recommendation with +it.—I thank you though.—I sent it to the manager of Covent Garden +Theatre this morning. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +I should have thought now, that it might have been cast (as the actors call it) +better at Drury Lane. +</p> + +<p>SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY.<br/> +O Lud! no—never send a play there while I live—hark’ee! +[<i>Whispers</i> SNEER.] +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Writes himself!—I know he does. +</p> + +<p>SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY.<br/> +I say nothing—I take away from no man’s merit—am hurt at no +man’s good fortune—I say nothing.—But this I will +say—through all my knowledge of life, I have observed—that there is +not a passion so strongly rooted in the human heart as envy. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +I believe you have reason for what you say, indeed. +</p> + +<p>SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY.<br/> +Besides—I can tell you it is not always so safe to leave a play in the +hands of those who write themselves. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +What, they may steal from them, hey, my dear Plagiary? +</p> + +<p>SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY.<br/> +Steal!—to be sure they may; and, egad, serve your best thoughts as +gypsies do stolen children, disfigure them to make ’em pass for their +own. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +But your present work is a sacrifice to Melpomene, and he, you know, +never— +</p> + +<p>SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY.<br/> +That’s no security: a dexterous plagiarist may do anything. Why, sir, for +aught I know, he might take out some of the best things in my tragedy, and put +them into his own comedy. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +That might be done, I dare be sworn. +</p> + +<p>SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY.<br/> +And then, if such a person gives you the least hint or assistance, he is +devilish apt to take the merit of the whole— +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +If it succeeds. +</p> + +<p>SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY.<br/> +Ay, but with regard to this piece, I think I can hit that gentleman, for I can +safely swear he never read it. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +I’ll tell you how you may hurt him more. +</p> + +<p>SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY.<br/> +How? +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Swear he wrote it. +</p> + +<p>SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY.<br/> +Plague on’t now, Sneer, I shall take it ill!—I believe you want to +take away my character as an author. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Then I am sure you ought to be very much obliged to me. +</p> + +<p>SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY.<br/> +Hey!—sir!— +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +Oh, you know, he never means what he says. +</p> + +<p>SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY.<br/> +Sincerely then—do you like the piece? +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Wonderfully! +</p> + +<p>SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY.<br/> +But come, now, there must be something that you think might be mended, +hey?—Mr. Dangle, has nothing struck you? +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +Why, faith, it is but an ungracious thing for the most part, to— +</p> + +<p>SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY.<br/> +With most authors it is just so, indeed; they are in general strangely +tenacious! But, for my part, I am never so well pleased as when a judicious +critic points out any defect to me; for what is the purpose of showing a work +to a friend, if you don’t mean to profit by his opinion? +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Very true.—Why, then, though I seriously admire the piece upon the whole, +yet there is one small objection; which, if you’ll give me leave, +I’ll mention. +</p> + +<p>SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY.<br/> +Sir, you can’t oblige me more. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +I think it wants incident. +</p> + +<p>SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY.<br/> +Good God! you surprise me!—wants incident! +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Yes; I own I think the incidents are too few. +</p> + +<p>SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY.<br/> +Good God! Believe me, Mr. Sneer, there is no person for whose judgment I have a +more implicit deference. But I protest to you, Mr. Sneer, I am only +apprehensive that the incidents are too crowded.—My dear Dangle, how does +it strike you? +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +Really I can’t agree with my friend Sneer. I think the plot quite +sufficient; and the four first acts by many degrees the best I ever read or saw +in my life. If, I might venture to suggest anything, it is that the interest +rather falls off in the fifth. +</p> + +<p>SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY.<br/> +Rises, I believe you mean, sir. +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +No, I don’t, upon my word. +</p> + +<p>SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY.<br/> +Yes, yes, you do, upon my soul!—it certainly don’t fall off, I +assure you.—No, no; it don’t fall off. +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +Now, Mrs. Dangle, didn’t you say it struck you in the same light? +</p> + +<p>MRS. DANGLE.<br/> +No, indeed, I did not.—I did not see a fault in any part of the play, +from the beginning to the end. +</p> + +<p>SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY.<br/> +Upon my soul, the women are the best judges after all! +</p> + +<p>MRS. DANGLE.<br/> +Or, if I made any objection, I am sure it was to nothing in the piece; but that +I was afraid it was on the whole, a little too long. +</p> + +<p>SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY.<br/> +Pray, madam, do you speak as to duration of time; or do you mean that the story +is tediously spun out? +</p> + +<p>MRS. DANGLE.<br/> +O Lud! no.—I speak only with reference to the usual length of acting +plays. +</p> + +<p>SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY.<br/> +Then I am very happy—very happy indeed—because the play is a short +play, a remarkably short play. I should not venture to differ with a lady on a +point of taste; but on these occasions, the watch, you know, is the critic. +</p> + +<p>MRS. DANGLE.<br/> +Then, I suppose, it must have been Mr. Dangle’s drawling manner of +reading it to me. +</p> + +<p>SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY.<br/> +Oh, if Mr. Dangle read it, that’s quite another affair!—But I +assure you, Mrs. Dangle, the first evening you can spare me three hours and a +half, I’ll undertake to read you the whole, from beginning to end, with +the prologue and epilogue, and allow time for the music between the acts. +</p> + +<p>MRS. DANGLE.<br/> +I hope to see it on the stage next. +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +Well, Sir Fretful, I wish you may be able to get rid as easily of the newspaper +criticisms as you do of ours. +</p> + +<p>SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY.<br/> +The newspapers! Sir, they are the most +villainous—licentious—abominable—infernal.—Not that I +ever read them—no—I make it a rule never to look into a newspaper. +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +You are quite right; for it certainly must hurt an author of delicate feelings +to see the liberties they take. +</p> + +<p>SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY.<br/> +No, quite the contrary! their abuse is, in fact, the best panegyric—I +like it of all things. An author’s reputation is only in danger from +their support. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Why, that’s true—and that attack, now, on you the other day— +</p> + +<p>SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY.<br/> +What? where? +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +Ay, you mean in a paper of Thursday: it was completely ill-natured, to be sure. +</p> + +<p>SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY.<br/> +Oh so much the better.—Ha! Ha! Ha! I wouldn’t have it otherwise. +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +Certainly it is only to be laughed at; for— +</p> + +<p>SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY.<br/> +You don’t happen to recollect what the fellow said, do you? +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Pray, Dangle—Sir Fretful seems a little anxious— +</p> + +<p>SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY.<br/> +O Lud, no!—anxious!—not I—not the least.—I—but +one may as well hear, you know. +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +Sneer, do you recollect?—[<i>Aside to</i> SNEER.] Make out something. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +[<i>Aside to</i> DANGLE.] I will.—[<i>Aloud</i>.] Yes, yes, I remember +perfectly. +</p> + +<p>SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY.<br/> +Well, and pray now—not that it signifies—what might the gentleman +say? +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Why, he roundly asserts that you have not the slightest invention or original +genius whatever; though you are the greatest traducer of all other authors +living. +</p> + +<p>SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY.<br/> +Ha! ha! ha!—very good! +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +That as to comedy, you have not one idea of your own, he believes, even in your +commonplace-book—where stray jokes and pilfered witticisms are kept with +as much method as the ledger of the lost and stolen office. +</p> + +<p>SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY.<br/> +Ha! ha! ha!—very pleasant! +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Nay, that you are so unlucky as not to have the skill even to steal with +taste:—but that you glean from the refuse of obscure volumes, where more +judicious plagiarists have been before you; so that the body of your work is a +composition of dregs and sentiments—like a bad tavern’s worst wine. +</p> + +<p>SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY.<br/> +Ha! ha! +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +In your more serious efforts, he says, your bombast would be less intolerable, +if the thoughts were ever suited to the expression; but the homeliness of the +sentiment stares through the fantastic encumbrance of its fine language, like a +clown in one of the new uniforms! +</p> + +<p>SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY.<br/> +Ha! ha! +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +That your occasional tropes and flowers suit the general coarseness of your +style, as tambour sprigs would a ground of linsey-woolsey; while your +imitations of Shakspeare resemble the mimicry of Falstaff’s page, and are +about as near the standard as the original. +</p> + +<p>SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY.<br/> +Ha! +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +In short, that even the finest passages you steal are of no service to you; for +the poverty of your own language prevents their assimilating; so that they lie +on the surface like lumps of marl on a barren moor, encumbering what it is not +in their power to fertilize! +</p> + +<p>SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY.<br/> +[<i>After great agitation</i>.] Now, another person would be vexed at this! +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Oh! but I wouldn’t have told you—only to divert you. +</p> + +<p>SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY.<br/> +I know it—I am diverted.—Ha! ha! ha!—not the least +invention!—Ha! ha! ha!—very good!—very good! +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Yes—no genius! ha! ha! ha! +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +A severe rogue! ha! ha! ha! But you are quite right, Sir Fretful, never to read +such nonsense. +</p> + +<p>SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY.<br/> +To be sure—for if there is anything to one’s praise, it is a +foolish vanity to be gratified at it; and, if it is abuse—why one is +always sure to hear of it from one damned good-natured friend or other! +</p> + +<p><i>Enter</i> SERVANT. +</p> + +<p>SERVANT.<br/> +Sir, there is an Italian gentleman, with a French interpreter, and three young +ladies, and a dozen musicians, who say they are sent by Lady Rondeau and Mrs. +Fugue. +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +Gadso! they come by appointment!—Dear Mrs. Dangle, do let them know +I’ll see them directly. +</p> + +<p>MRS. DANGLE.<br/> +You know, Mr. Dangle, I shan’t understand a word they say. +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +But you hear there’s an interpreter. +</p> + +<p>MRS. DANGLE.<br/> +Well, I’ll try to endure their complaisance till you come. [<i>Exit</i>.] +</p> + +<p>SERVANT.<br/> +And Mr. Puff, sir, has sent word that the last rehearsal is to be this morning, +and that he’ll call on you presently. +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +That’s true—I shall certainly be at home.—[<i>Exit</i> +SERVANT.]—now, Sir Fretful, if you have a mind to have justice done you +in the way of answer, egad, Mr. Puff’s your man. +</p> + +<p>SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY.<br/> +Psha! sir, why should I wish to have it answered, when I tell you I am pleased +at it? +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +True, I had forgot that. But I hope you are not fretted at what Mr. +Sneer— +</p> + +<p>SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY.<br/> +Zounds! no, Mr. Dangle; don’t I tell you these things never fret me in +the least? +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +Nay, I only thought— +</p> + +<p>SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY.<br/> +And let me tell you, Mr. Dangle, ’tis damned affronting in you to suppose +that I am hurt when I tell you I am not. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +But why so warm, Sir Fretful? +</p> + +<p>SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY.<br/> +Gad’s life! Mr. Sneer, you are as absurd as Dangle: how often must I +repeat it to you, that nothing can vex me but your supposing it possible for me +to mind the damned nonsense you have been repeating to me!—let me tell +you, if you continue to believe this, you must mean to insult me, +gentlemen—and, then, your disrespect will affect me no more than the +newspaper criticisms—and I shall treat it with exactly the same calm +indifference and philosophic contempt—and so your servant. [<i>Exit.] +Sneer</i>.<br/> +Ha! ha! ha! poor Sir Fretful! Now will he go and vent his philosophy in +anonymous abuse of all modern critics and authors.—But, Dangle, you must +get your friend Puff to take me to the rehearsal of his tragedy. +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +I’ll answer for’t, he’ll thank you for desiring it. But come +and help me to judge of this musical family: they are recommended by people of +consequence, I assure you. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +I am at your disposal the whole morning!—but I thought you had been a +decided critic in music as well as in literature. +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +So I am—but I have a bad ear. I’faith, Sneer, though, I am afraid +we were a little too severe on Sir Fretful—though he is my friend. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Why, ’tis certain, that unnecessarily to mortify the vanity of any writer +is a cruelty which mere dulness never can deserve; but where a base and +personal malignity usurps the place of literary emulation, the aggressor +deserves neither quarter nor pity. +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +That’s true, egad!—though he’s my friend! +</p> + +<h4>SCENE II.—<i>A drawing-room in</i> DANGLE’S <i>House.</i> MRS. +DANGLE, SIGNOR PASTICCIO RITORNELLO, SIGNORE PASTICCIO RITORNELLO, INTERPRETER, +<i>and</i> MUSICIANS <i>discovered</i>. </h4> + +<p>INTERPRETER.<br/> +Je dis, madame, j’ai l’honneur to introduce et de vous demander +votre protection pour le Signor Pasticcio Ritornello et pour sa charmante +famille. +</p> + +<p>SIGNOR PASTICCIO RITORNELLO.<br/> +Ah! vosignoria, not vi preghiamo di favoritevi colla vostra protezione. +</p> + +<p>FIRST SIGNORA PASTICCIO RITORNELLO.<br/> +Vosignoria fatevi questi grazie. +</p> + +<p>SECOND SIGNORA PASTICCIO RITORNELLO.<br/> +Si, signora. +</p> + +<p>INTERPRETER.<br/> +Madame—me interpret.—C’est à dire—in +English—qu’ils vous prient de leur faire l’honneur— +</p> + +<p>MRS. DANGLE.<br/> +I say again, gentlemen, I don’t understand a word you say. +</p> + +<p>SIGNOR PASTICCIO RITORNELLO.<br/> +Questo signore spiegheró— +</p> + +<p>INTERPRETER.<br/> +Oui—me interpret.—Nous avons les lettres de recommendation pour +Monsieur Dangle de— +</p> + +<p>MRS. DANGLE.<br/> +Upon my word, sir, I don’t understand you. +</p> + +<p>SIGNOR PASTICCIO RITORNELLO.<br/> +La Contessa Rondeau è nostra padrona. +</p> + +<p>THIRD SIGNORA PASTICCIO RITORNELLO.<br/> +Si, padre, et Miladi Fugue. +</p> + +<p>INTERPRETER.<br/> +O!—me interpret.—Madame, ils disent—in +English—Qu’ils ont l’honneur d’être protégés de ces +dames.—You understand? +</p> + +<p>MRS. DANGLE.<br/> +No, sir,—no understand! +</p> + +<p><i>Enter</i> DANGLE <i>and</i> SNEER. +</p> + +<p>INTERPRETER.<br/> +Ah, voici, Monsieur Dangle! +</p> + +<p>ALL ITALIANS.<br/> +Ah! Signor Dangle! +</p> + +<p>MRS. DANGLE.<br/> +Mr. Dangle, here are two very civil gentlemen trying to make themselves +understood, and I don’t know which is the interpreter. +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +Eh, bien! [<i>The</i> INTERPRETER <i>and</i> SIGNOR PASTICCIO <i>here speak at +the same time</i>.] +</p> + +<p>INTERPRETER.<br/> +Monsieur Dangle, le grand bruit de vos talens pour la critique, et de votre +intérêt avec messieurs les directeurs à tous les théâtres— +</p> + +<p>SIGNOR PASTICCIO RITORNELLO.<br/> +Vosignoria siete si famoso par la vostra conoscenza, e vostra interessa colla +le direttore da— +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +Egad, I think the interpreter is the hardest to be understood of the two! +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Why, I thought, Dangle, you had been an admirable linguist! +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +So I am, if they would not talk so damned fast. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Well, I’ll explain that—the less time we lose in bearing them the +better—for that, I suppose, is what they are brought here for. [<i>Speaks +to</i> SIGNOR PASTICCIO— <i>they sing trios, &c.,</i> DANGLE +<i>beating out of time.</i>] <i>Enter</i> SERVANT <i>and whispers</i> DANGLE. +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +Show him up.—[<i>Exit</i> SERVANT.] Bravo! admirable! bravissimo! +admirablissimo!—Ah! Sneer! where will you find voices such as these in +England? +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Not easily. +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +But Puff is coming.—Signor and little signoras obligatissimo!—Sposa +Signora Danglena—Mrs. Dangle, shall I beg you to offer them some +refreshments, and take their address in the next room. [<i>Exit</i> MRS. DANGLE +<i>with</i> SIGNOR PASTICCIO, SIGNORE PASTICCIO, MUSICIANS, <i>and</i> +INTERPRETER, <i>ceremoniously.</i>] +</p> + +<p><i>Re-enter</i> SERVANT. +</p> + +<p>SERVANT.<br/> +Mr. Puff, sir. [<i>Exit</i>.] +</p> + +<p><i>Enter</i> PUFF. +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +My dear Puff! +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +My dear Dangle, how is it with you? +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +Mr. Sneer, give me leave to introduce Mr. Puff to you. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Mr. Sneer is this?—Sir, he is a gentleman whom I have long panted for the +honour of knowing—a gentleman whose critical talents and transcendent +judgment— +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Dear Sir— +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +Nay, don’t be modest, Sneer; my friend Puff only talks to you in the +style of his profession. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +His profession. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Yes, sir; I make no secret of the trade I follow: among friends and brother +authors, Dangle knows I love to be frank on the subject, and to advertise +myself <i>viva voce</i>.—I am, sir, a practitioner in panegyric, or, to +speak more plainly, a professor of the art of puffing, at your service—or +anybody else’s. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Sir, you are very obliging!—I believe, Mr. Puff, I have often admired +your talents in the daily prints. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Yes, sir, I flatter myself I do as much business in that way as any six of the +fraternity in town.—Devilish hard work all the summer, friend +Dangle,—never worked harder! But, hark’ee,—the winter +managers were a little sore, I believe. +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +No; I believe they took it all in good part. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Ay! then that must have been affectation in them: for, egad, there were some of +the attacks which there was no laughing at! +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Ay, the humorous ones.—But I should think, Mr. Puff, that authors would +in general be able to do this sort of work for themselves. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Why, yes—but in a clumsy way. Besides, we look on that as an +encroachment, and so take the opposite side. I dare say, now, you conceive half +the very civil paragraphs and advertisements you see to be written by the +parties concerned, or their friends? No such thing: nine out of ten +manufactured by me in the way of business. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Indeed! +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Even the auctioneers now—the auctioneers, I say—though the rogues +have lately got some credit for their language—not an article of the +merit theirs: take them out of their pulpits, and they are as dull as +catalogues!—No, sir; ’twas I first enriched their +style—’twas I first taught them to crowd their advertisements with +panegyrical superlatives, each epithet rising above the other, like the bidders +in their own auction rooms! From me they learned to inlay their phraseology +with variegated chips of exotic metaphor: by me too their inventive faculties +were called forth:—yes, sir, by me they were instructed to clothe ideal +walls with gratuitous fruits—to insinuate obsequious rivulets into +visionary groves—to teach courteous shrubs to nod their approbation of +the grateful soil; or on emergencies to raise upstart oaks, where there never +had been an acorn; to create a delightful vicinage without the assistance of a +neighbour; or fix the temple of Hygeia in the fens of Lincolnshire! +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +I am sure you have done them infinite service; for now, when a gentleman is +ruined, he parts with his house with some credit. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Service! if they had any gratitude, they would erect a statue to him; they +would figure him as a presiding Mercury, the god of traffic and fiction, with a +hammer in his hand instead of a caduceus.—But pray, Mr. Puff, what first +put you on exercising your talents in this way? +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Egad, sir, sheer necessity!—the proper parent of an art so nearly allied +to invention. You must know, Mr. Sneer, that from the first time I tried my +hand at an advertisement, my success was such, that for some time after I led a +most extraordinary life indeed! +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +How, pray? +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Sir, I supported myself two years entirely by my misfortunes. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +By your misfortunes! +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Yes, sir, assisted by long sickness, and other occasional disorders: and a very +comfortable living I had of it. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +From sickness and misfortunes! You practised as a doctor and an attorney at +once? +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +No, egad; both maladies and miseries were my own. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Hey! what the plague! +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +’Tis true, i’faith. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Hark’ee!—By advertisements—. Oh, I understand you. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +And, in truth, I deserved what I got! for, I suppose never man went through +such a series of calamities in the same space of time. Sir, I was five times +made a bankrupt, and reduced from a state of affluence, by a train of +unavoidable misfortunes: then, sir, though a very industrious tradesman, I was +twice burned out, and lost my little all both times: I lived upon those fires a +month. I soon after was confined by a most excruciating disorder, and lost the +use of my limbs: that told very well; for I had the case strongly attested, and +went about to collect the subscriptions myself. +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +Egad, I believe that was when you first called on me. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +In November last?—O no; I was at that time a close prisoner in the +Marshalsea, for a debt benevolently contracted to serve a friend. I was +afterwards twice tapped for a dropsy, which declined into a very profitable +consumption. I was then reduced to—O no—then, I became a widow with +six helpless children, after having had eleven husbands pressed, and being left +every time eight months gone with child, and without money to get me into an +hospital! +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +And you bore all with patience, I make no doubt? +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Why yes; though I made some occasional attempts at <i>felo de se</i>, but as I +did not find those rash actions answer, I left off killing myself very soon. +Well, sir, at last, what with bankruptcies, fires, gout, dropsies, +imprisonments, and other valuable calamities, having got together a pretty +handsome sum, I determined to quit a business which had always gone rather +against my conscience, and in a more liberal way still to indulge my talents +for fiction and embellishment, through my favourite channels of diurnal +communication—and so, sir, you have my history. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Most obligingly communicative indeed! and your confession, if published, might +certainly serve the cause of true charity, by rescuing the most useful channels +of appeal to benevolence from the cant of imposition. But, surely, Mr. Puff, +there is no great mystery in your present profession? +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Mystery, sir! I will take upon me to say the matter was never scientifically +treated nor reduced to rule before. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Reduced to rule! +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +O Lud, sir, you are very ignorant, I am afraid!—Yes, sir,. puffing is of +various sorts; the principal are, the puff direct, the puff preliminary, the +puff collateral, the puff collusive, and the puff oblique, or puff by +implication. These all assume, as circumstances require, the various forms of +Letter to the Editor, Occasional Anecdote, Impartial Critique, Observation from +Correspondent, or Advertisement from the Party. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +The puff direct, I can conceive— +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +O yes, that’s simple enough! For instance,—a new comedy or farce is +to be produced at one of the theatres (though by-the-by they don’t bring +out half what they ought to do)—the author, suppose Mr. Smatter, or Mr. +Dapper, or any particular friend of mine—very, well; the day before it is +to be performed, I write an account of the manner in which it was received; I +have the plot from the author, and only add—characters strongly +drawn—highly coloured—hand of a master—fund of genuine +humour—mine of invention—neat dialogue—Attic salt. Then for +the performance—Mr. Dodd was astonishingly great in the character of Sir +Harry. That universal and judicious actor, Mr. Palmer, perhaps never appeared +to more advantage than in the colonel;—but it is not in the power of +language to do justice to Mr. King: indeed he more than merited those repeated +bursts of applause which he drew from a most brilliant and judicious audience. +As to the scenery—the miraculous powers of Mr. De Loutherbourg’s +pencil are universally acknowledged. In short, we are at a loss which to admire +most, the unrivalled genius of the author, the great attention and liberality +of the managers, the wonderful abilities of the painter, or the incredible +exertions of all the performers. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +That’s pretty well indeed, sir. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Oh, cool!—quite cool!—to what I sometimes do. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +And do you think there are any who are influenced by this? +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +O Lud, yes, sir! the number of those who undergo the fatigue of judging for +themselves is very small indeed. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Well, sir, the puff preliminary. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +O, that, sir, does well in the form of a caution. In a matter of gallantry +now—Sir Flimsy Gossamer wishes to be well with Lady Fanny Fete—he +applies to me—I open trenches for him with a paragraph in the Morning +Post.—It is recommended to the beautiful and accomplished Lady F four +stars F dash E to be on her guard against that dangerous character, Sir F dash +G; who, however pleasing and insinuating his manners may be, is certainly not +remarkable <i>for the constancy of his attachments</i>!—in italics. Here, +you see, Sir Flimsy Gossamer is introduced to the particular notice of Lady +Fanny, who perhaps never thought of him before—she finds herself publicly +cautioned to avoid him, which naturally makes her desirous of seeing him; the +observation of their acquaintance causes a pretty kind of mutual embarrassment; +this produces a sort of sympathy of interest, which if Sir Flimsy is unable to +improve effectually, he at least gains the credit of having their names +mentioned together, by a particular set, and in a particular way—which +nine times out of ten is the full accomplishment of modern gallantry. +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +Egad, Sneer, you will be quite an adept in the business. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Now, Sir, the puff collateral is much used as an appendage to advertisements, +and may take the form of anecdote,—Yesterday, as the celebrated George +Bonmot was sauntering down St. James’s Street, he met the lively Lady +Mary Myrtle coming out of the park:—‘Good God, Lady Mary, I’m +surprised to meet you in a white jacket,—for I expected never to have +seen you, but in a full-trimmed uniform and a light horseman’s +cap!’—‘Heavens, George, where could you have learned +that?’—‘Why,’ replied the wit, ‘I just saw a +print of you, in a new publication called the Camp Magazine; which, by-the-by, +is a devilish clever thing, and is sold at No. 3, on the right hand of the way, +two doors from the printing-office, the corner of Ivy Lane, Paternoster Row, +price only one shilling.’ +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Very ingenious indeed! +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +But the puff collusive is the newest of any; for it acts in the disguise of +determined hostility. It is much used by bold booksellers and enterprising +poets.—An indignant correspondent observes, that the new poem called +Beelsebub’s Cotillon, or Proserpine’s Fête Champêtre, is one of the +most unjustifiable performances he ever read. The severity with which certain +characters are handled is quite shocking: and as there are many descriptions in +it too warmly coloured for female delicacy, the shameful avidity with which +this piece is bought by all people of fashion is a reproach on the taste of the +times, and a disgrace to the delicacy of the age. Here you see the two +strongest inducements are held forth; first, that nobody ought to read it; and +secondly, that everybody buys it: on the strength of which the publisher boldly +prints the tenth edition, before he had sold ten of the first; and then +establishes it by threatening himself with the pillory, or absolutely indicting +himself for <i>scan. mag.</i> +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +Ha! ha! ha!—’gad, I know it is so. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +As to the puff oblique, or puff by implication, it is too various and extensive +to be illustrated by an instance: it attracts in titles and resumes in patents; +it lurks in the limitation of a subscription, and invites in the assurance of +crowd and incommodation at public places; it delights to draw forth concealed +merit, with a most disinterested assiduity; and sometimes wears a countenance +of smiling censure and tender reproach. It has a wonderful memory for +parliamentary debates, and will often give the whole speech of a favoured +member with the most flattering accuracy. But, above all, it is a great dealer +in reports and suppositions. It has the earliest intelligence of intended +preferments that will reflect honour on the patrons; and embryo promotions of +modest gentlemen, who know nothing of the matter themselves. It can hint a +ribbon for implied services in the air of a common report; and with the +carelessness of a casual paragraph, suggest officers into commands, to which +they have no pretension but their wishes. This, sir, is the last principal +class of the art of puffing—an art which I hope you will now agree with +me is of the highest dignity, yielding a tablature of benevolence and public +spirit; befriending equally trade, gallantry, criticism, and politics: the +applause of genius—the register of charity—the triumph of +heroism—the self-defence of contractors—the fame of +orators—and the gazette of ministers. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Sir, I am completely a convert both to the importance and ingenuity of your +profession; and now, sir, there is but one thing which can possibly increase my +respect for you, and that is, your permitting me to be present this morning at +the rehearsal of your new trage— +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Hush, for heaven’s sake!—<i>My</i> tragedy!—Egad, Dangle, I +take this very ill: you know how apprehensive I am of being known to be the +author. +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +I’faith I would not have told—but it’s in the papers, and +your name at length in the Morning Chronicle. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Ah! those damned editors never can keep a secret I—Well, Mr. Sneer, no +doubt you will do me great honour—I shall be infinitely +happy—highly flattered—Dang. I believe it must be near the +time—shall we go together? +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +No; it will, not be yet this hour, for they are always late at that theatre: +besides, I must meet you there, for I have some little matters here to send to +the papers, and a few paragraphs to scribble before I go.—[<i>Looking at +memorandums.</i>] Here is <i>A conscientious Baker, on the subject of the Army +Bread; and a Detester of visible Brick-work, in favour of the new invented +Stucco</i>; both in the style of Junius, and promised for tomorrow. The Thames +navigation too is at a stand. Misomud or Anti-shoal must go to work again +directly.—Here too are some political memorandums—I see; ay— +</p> + +<p><i>To take Paul Jones and get the Indiamen out of the +Shannon—reinforce Byron—compel the Dutch to</i>—so!—I +must do that in the evening papers, or reserve it for the Morning Herald; for I +know that I have undertaken tomorrow, besides, to establish the unanimity of +the fleet in the Public Advertiser, and to shoot Charles Fox in the Morning +Post.—So, egad, I ha’n’t a moment to lose. +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +Well, we’ll meet in the Green Room. [Exeunt severally. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3>ACT II.</h3> + +<h4>SCENE I.—The Theatre before the Curtain. </h4> + +<p><i>Enter</i> DANGLE, PUFF, and SNEER. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +No, no, sir; what Shakspeare says of actors may be better applied to the +purpose of plays; they ought to be the abstract and brief chronicles of the +time. Therefore when history, and particularly the history of our own country, +furnishes anything like a case in point, to the time in which an author writes, +if he knows his own interest, he will take advantage of it; so, sir, I call my +tragedy The Spanish Armada; and have laid the scene before Tilbury Fort. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +A most happy thought, certainly I Dang. Egad it was—I told you so. But, +pray now, I don’t understand how you have contrived to introduce any love +into it. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Love! oh, nothing so easy! for it is a received point among poets, that where +history gives you a good heroic outline for a play, you may fill up with a +little love at your own discretion: in doing which, nine times out of ten, you +only make up a deficiency in the private history of the times. Now, I rather +think I have done this with some success. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +No scandal about Queen Elizabeth, I hope? +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +O Lud! no, no;—I only suppose the governor of Tilbury Fort’s +daughter to be in love with the son of the Spanish admiral. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Oh, is that all! +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +Excellent, i’faith! I see at once. But won’t this appear rather +improbable? +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +To be sure it will—but what the plague! a play is not to show occurrences +that happen every day, but things just so strange, that though they never did, +they might happen. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Certainly nothing is unnatural, that is not physically impossible. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Very true—and for that matter Don Ferolo Whiskerandos, for that’s +the lover’s name, might have been over here in the train of the Spanish +ambassador, or Tilburina, for that is the lady’s name, might have been in +love with him, from having heard his character, or seen his picture; or from +knowing that he was the last man in the world she ought to be in love +with—or for any other good female reason.—However; sir, the fact +is, that though she is but a knight’s daughter, egad! she is in love like +any princess! +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +Poor young lady! I feel for her already! for I can conceive how great the +conflict must be between her passion and her duty; her love for her country, +and her love for Don Ferolo Whiskerandos! +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Oh, amazing!—her poor susceptible heart is swayed to and fro by +contending passions like— +</p> + +<p><i>Enter</i> UNDER PROMPTER. +</p> + +<p>UNDER PROMPTER.<br/> +Sir, the scene is set, and everything is ready to begin, if you please. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Egad, then we’ll lose no time. +</p> + +<p>UNDER PROMPTER.<br/> +Though, I believe, sir, you will find it very short, for all the performers +have profited by the kind permission you granted them. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Hey! what? +</p> + +<p>UNDER PROMPTER.<br/> +You know, sir, you gave them leave to cut out or omit whatever they found heavy +or unnecessary to the plot, and I must own they have taken very liberal +advantage of your indulgence. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Well, well.—They are in general very good judges, and I know I am +luxuriant.—Now, Mr. Hopkins, as soon as you please. +</p> + +<p>UNDER PROMPTER.<br/> +[<i>To the</i> Orchestra.] Gentlemen, will you play a few bars of something, +just to— +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Ay, that’s right; for as we have the scenes and dresses, egad, +we’ll go to’t, as if it was the first night’s +performance,—but you need not mind stopping between the acts— +[<i>Exit</i> UNDER PROMPTER.—Orchestra <i>play—then the bell +rings</i>.] Soh! stand clear; gentlemen. Now you know there will be a cry of +down! down!—Hats off!—Silence!—Then up curtain, and let us +see what our painters have done for us. [<i>Curtain rises</i>.] +</p> + +<h4>SCENE II.—<i>Tilbury Fort</i>. <i>Two</i> SENTINELS <i>discovered +asleep</i>. </h4> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +Tilbury Fort!—very fine indeed! +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Now, what do you think I open with? +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Faith, I can’t guess— +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +A clock.—Hark!—[<i>Clock strikes</i>.] I open with a clock +striking, to beget an awful attention in the audience: it also marks the time, +which is four o’clock in the morning, and saves a description of the +rising sun, and a great deal about gilding the eastern hemisphere. +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +But pray, are the sentinels to be asleep? +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Fast as watchmen. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Isn’t that odd though at such an alarming crisis? +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +To be sure it is,—but smaller things must give way to a striking scene at +the opening; that’s a rule. And the case is, that two great men are +coming to this very spot to begin the piece; now it is not to be supposed they +would open their lips, if these fellows were watching them; so, egad, I must +either have sent them off their posts, or set them asleep. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Oh, that accounts for it. But tell us, who are these coming? +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +These are they—Sir Walter Raleigh, and Sir Christopher Hatton. +You’ll know Sir Christopher by his turning out his toes—famous, you +know, for his dancing. I like to preserve all the little traits of +character.—Now attend. <i>Enter</i> SIR WALTER RALEIGH and SIR +CHRISTOPHER HATTON. +</p> + +<p>SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON.<br/> +True, gallant Raleigh! +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +What, they had been talking before? +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +O yes; all the way as they came along.—[To the actors.] I beg pardon, +gentlemen, but these are particular friends of mine, whose remarks may be of +great service to us.—[<i>To</i> SNEER <i>and</i> DANGLE.] Don’t +mind interrupting them whenever anything strikes you. <i>Sir Christ</i>. +</p> + +<p>TRUE, GALLANT RALEIGH<br/> +But oh, thou champion of thy country’s fame,<br/> +There is a question which I yet must ask<br/> +A question which I never ask’d before—<br/> +What mean these mighty armaments?<br/> +This general muster? and this throng of chiefs?<br/> +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Pray, Mr. Puff, how came Sir Christopher Hatton never to ask that question +before? +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +What before the play began?-how the plague could he? +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +That’s true, i’faith! +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +But you will hear what he thinks of the matter. +</p> + +<p>SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON.<br/> +Alas I my noble friend, when I behold<br/> +Yon tented plains in martial symmetry<br/> +Array’d; when I count o’er yon glittering lines<br/> +Of crested warriors, where the proud steeds’ neigh,<br/> +And valour-breathing trumpet’s shrill appeal,<br/> +Responsive vibrate on my listening ear;<br/> +When virgin majesty herself I view,<br/> +Like her protecting Pallas, veil’d in steel,<br/> +With graceful confidence exhort to arms!<br/> +When, briefly, all I hear or see bears stamp<br/> +Of martial vigilance and stern defence,<br/> +I cannot but surmise—forgive, my friend,<br/> +If the conjecture’s rash—I cannot but<br/> +Surmise the state some danger apprehends!<br/> +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +A very cautious conjecture that. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Yes, that’s his character; not to give an opinion but on secure +grounds.—Now then. +</p> + +<p>SIR WALTER RALEIGH.<br/> +O most accomplish’d Christopher!— +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +He calls him by his Christian name, to show that they are on the most familiar +terms. +</p> + +<p>SIR WALTER RALEIGH.<br/> +O most accomplish’d Christopher! I find Thy staunch sagacity still tracks +the future, In the fresh print of the o’ertaken past. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Figurative! +</p> + +<p>SIR WALTER RALEIGH.<br/> +Thy fears are just. +</p> + +<p>SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON.<br/> +But where? whence? when? and what The danger is,—methinks I fain would +learn. +</p> + +<p>SIR WALTER RALEIGH.<br/> +You know, my friend, scarce two revolving suns, And three revolving moons, have +closed their course Since haughty Philip, in despite of peace, With hostile +hand hath struck at England’s trade. +</p> + +<p>SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON.<br/> +I know it well. +</p> + +<p>SIR WALTER RALEIGH.<br/> +Philip, you know, is proud Iberia’s king! +</p> + +<p>SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON.<br/> +He is. +</p> + +<p>SIR WALTER RALEIGH.<br/> +His subjects in base bigotry And Catholic oppression held;-while we, You know, +the Protestant persuasion hold. +</p> + +<p>SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON.<br/> +We do. +</p> + +<p>SIR WALTER RALEIGH.<br/> +You know, beside, his boasted armament, The famed Armada, by the Pope baptized, +With purpose to invade these realms— +</p> + +<p>SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON.<br/> +Is sailed, Our last advices so report. +</p> + +<p>SIR WALTER RALEIGH.<br/> +While the Iberian admiral’s chief hope, His darling son— +</p> + +<p>SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON.<br/> +Ferolo Whiskerandos hight— +</p> + +<p>SIR WALTER RALEIGH.<br/> +The same—by chance a prisoner hath been ta’en, And in this fort of +Tilbury— +</p> + +<p>SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON.<br/> +Is now Confined—’tis true, and oft from yon tall turret’s top +I’ve mark’d the youthful Spaniard’s haughty mien +Unconquer’d, though in chains. +</p> + +<p>SIR WALTER RALEIGH.<br/> +You also know—Dang. Mr. Puff, as he knows all this, why does Sir Walter +go on telling him? +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +But the audience are not supposed to know any-thing of the matter, are they? +Sneer. True; but I think you manage ill: for there certainly appears no reason +why Sir Walter should be so communicative. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +’Fore Gad, now, that is one of the most ungrateful observations I ever +heard!—for the less inducement he has to tell all this, the more, I +think, you ought to be obliged to him; for I am sure you’d know nothing +of the matter without it. +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +That’s very true, upon my word. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +But you will find he was not going on. <i>Sir Christ</i>.<br/> +Enough, enough—’tis plain—and I no more Am in amazement +lost!— +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Here, now you see, Sir Christopher did not in fact ask any one question for his +own information. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +No, indeed: his has been a most disinterested curiosity! +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +Really, I find that we are very much obliged to them both. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +To be sure you are. Now then for the commander-in-chief, the Earl of Leicester, +who, you know, was no favourite but of the queen’s.—We left +off—<i>in amazement lost!</i> <i>Sir Christ</i>.<br/> +Am in amazement lost. But, see where noble Leicester comes supreme in honours +and command. +</p> + +<p>SIR WALTER RALEIGH.<br/> +And yet, methinks, At such a time, so perilous, so fear’d, That staff +might well become an abler grasp. +</p> + +<p>SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON.<br/> +And so, by Heaven! think I; but soft, he’s here! +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Ay, they envy him! +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +But who are these with him? +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Oh! very valiant knights: one is the governor of the fort, the other the master +of the horse. And now, I think, you shall hear some better language: I was +obliged to be plain and intelligible in the first scene, because there was so +much matter of fact in it; but now, i’faith, you have trope, figure, and +metaphor, as plenty as noun-substantives. <i>Enter</i> EARL OF LEICESTER, +GOVERNOR, MASTER OF THE HORSE, KNIGHTS, &c. +</p> + +<p>EARL OF LEICESTER.<br/> +How’s this, my friends! is’t thus your new-fledged zeal,<br/> +And plumed valour moulds in roosted sloth?<br/> +Why dimly glimmers that heroic flame,<br/> +Whose reddening blaze, by patriot spirit fed,<br/> +Should be the beacon of a kindling realm?<br/> +Can the quick current of a patriot heart<br/> +Thus stagnate in a cold and weedy converse,<br/> +Or freeze in tideless inactivity?<br/> +No! rather let the fountain of your valour<br/> +Spring through each stream of enterprise,<br/> +Each petty channel of conducive daring,<br/> +Till the full torrent of your foaming wrath<br/> +O’erwhelm the flats of sunk hostility!<br/> +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +There it is—followed up! <i>Sir Walt</i>. +</p> + +<p>No more!—the freshening breath of thy rebuke<br/> +Hath fill’d the swelling canvas of our souls!<br/> +And thus, though fate should cut the cable of<br/> +[<i>All take hands.</i>]<br/> +Our topmost hopes, in friendship’s closing line<br/> +We’ll grapple with despair, and if we fall,<br/> +We’ll fall in glory’s wake!<br/> +</p> + +<p>EARL OF LEICESTER.<br/> +There spoke old England’s genius!<br/> +Then, are we all resolved?<br/> +</p> + +<p>ALL.<br/> +We are—all resolved. +</p> + +<p>EARL OF LEICESTER.<br/> +To conquer—or be free? +</p> + +<p>ALL.<br/> +To conquer, or be free. +</p> + +<p>EARL OF LEICESTER.<br/> +All? +</p> + +<p>ALL.<br/> +All. +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +<i>Nem. con</i>. egad! +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +O yes!—where they do agree on the stage, their unanimity is wonderful! +</p> + +<p>EARL OF LEICESTER.<br/> +Then let’s embrace—and now—[<i>Kneels.</i> +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +What the plague, is he going to pray? +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Yes; hush!—in great emergencies, there Is nothing like a prayer. +</p> + +<p>EARL OF LEICESTER.<br/> +O mighty Mars! +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +But why should he pray to Mars? +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Hush! +</p> + +<p>EARL OF LEICESTER.<br/> +If in thy homage bred,<br/> +Each point of discipline I’ve still observed;<br/> +Nor but by due promotion, and the right<br/> +Of service, to the rank of major-general<br/> +Have risen; assist thy votary now!<br/> +</p> + +<p>GOVERNOR.<br/> +Yet do not rise—hear me! [<i>Kneels.</i>] +</p> + +<p>MASTER OF THE HORSE.<br/> +And me! [<i>Kneels.</i>] +</p> + +<p>KNIGHT.<br/> +And me! [<i>Kneels.</i>] +</p> + +<p>SIR WALTER RALEIGH.<br/> +And me! [<i>Kneels.</i>] +</p> + +<p>SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON.<br/> +And me! [<i>Kneels.</i>] +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Now pray altogether. +</p> + +<p>ALL.<br/> +Behold thy votaries submissive beg,<br/> +That thou wilt deign to grant them all they ask;<br/> +Assist them to accomplish all their ends,<br/> +And sanctify whatever means they use<br/> +To gain them!<br/> +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +A very orthodox quintetto! +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Vastly well, gentlemen!—Is that well managed or not? Have you such a +prayer as that on the stage? +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Not exactly. +</p> + +<p>EARL OF LEICESTER.<br/> +[<i>To</i> PUFF.] But, sir, you haven’t settled how we are to get off +here. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +You could not go off kneeling, could you? +</p> + +<p>SIR WALTER RALEIGH.<br/> +[<i>To</i> PUFF.] O no, sir; impossible! +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +It would have a good effect i’faith, if you could exeunt +praying!—Yes, and would vary the established mode of springing off with a +glance at the pit. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Oh, never mind, so as you get them off!—I’ll answer for it, the +audience won’t care how. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Well, then, repeat the last line standing, and go off the old way. +<i>All</i>.<br/> +And sanctify whatever means we use To gain them. [<i>Exeunt</i>.] +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +Bravo! a fine exit. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Well, really, Mr. Puff— +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Stay a moment! <i>The</i> SENTINELS <i>get up.</i> +</p> + +<p>FIRST SENTINEL.<br/> +All this shall to Lord Burleigh’s ear. +</p> + +<p>SECOND SENTINEL.<br/> +’Tis meet it should. [<i>Exeunt</i>.] +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +Hey!—why, I thought those fellows had been asleep? +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Only a pretence; there’s the art of it: they were spies of Lord +Burleigh’s. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +But isn’t it odd they never were taken notice of, not even by the +commander-in-chief? +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +O Lud, sir! if people who want to listen, or overhear, were not always connived +at in a tragedy, there would be no carrying on any plot in the world. +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +That’s certain. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +But take care, my dear Dangle! the morning gun is going to fire. [<i>Cannon +fires</i>.] +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +Well, that will have a fine effect! +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +I think so, and helps to realize the scene.—[<i>Cannon twice</i>.] What +the plague! three morning guns! there never is but one!—Ay, this is +always the way at the theatre: give these fellows a good thing, and they never +know when to have done with it.—You have no more cannon to fire? +</p> + +<p>UNDER PROMPTER.<br/> +[<i>Within</i>.] No, sir. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Now, then, for soft music. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Pray, what’s that for? +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +It shows that Tilburina is coming!—nothing introduces you a heroine like +soft music. Here she comes! +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +And her confidant, I suppose? +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +To be sure! Here they are—inconsolable to the minuet in Ariadne! [Soft +music.] <i>Enter</i> TILNURINA <i>and</i> CONFIDANT. +</p> + +<p>TILNURINA.<br/> +Now has the whispering breath of gentle morn<br/> +Bid Nature’s voice and Nature’s beauty rise;<br/> +While orient Phoebus, with unborrow’d hues,<br/> +Clothes the waked loveliness which all night slept<br/> +In heavenly drapery I Darkness is fled.<br/> +Now flowers unfold their beauties to the sun,<br/> +And, blushing, kiss the beam he sends to wake them—<br/> +The striped carnation, and the guarded rose,<br/> +The vulgar wallflower, and smart gillyflower,<br/> +The polyanthus mean—the dapper daisy,<br/> +Sweet-William, and sweet marjoram—and all<br/> +The tribe of single and of double pinks!<br/> +Now, too, the feather’d warblers tune their notes<br/> +Around, and charm the listening grove. The lark!<br/> +The linnet! chaffinch! bullfinch! goldfinch! greenfinch!<br/> +But O, to me no joy can they afford!<br/> +Nor rose, nor wallflower, nor smart gillyflower,<br/> +Nor polyanthus mean, nor dapper daisy,<br/> +Nor William sweet, nor marjoram—nor lark,<br/> +Linnet nor all the finches of the grove!<br/> +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Your white handkerchief, madam!— +</p> + +<p>TILNURINA.<br/> +I thought, sir, I wasn’t to use that till <i>heart-rending woe</i>. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +O yes, madam, at <i>the finches of the grove</i>, if you please. +</p> + +<p>TILNURINA.<br/> +Nor lark,<br/> +Linnet, nor all the finches of the grove! [Weeps.]<br/> +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Vastly well, madam! <i>Dang</i>.<br/> +Vastly well, indeed! +</p> + +<p>TILNURINA.<br/> +For, O, too sure, heart-rending woe is now<br/> +The lot of wretched Tilburina!<br/> +</p> + +<p>CONFIDANT.<br/> +Oh!—it’s too much. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Oh!—it is indeed. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Be comforted, sweet lady; for who knows,<br/> +But Heaven has yet some milk-white day in store?<br/> +</p> + +<p>TILNURINA.<br/> +Alas! my gentle Nora, Thy tender youth as yet hath never mourn’d +Love’s fatal dart. Else wouldst thou know, that when The soul is sunk in +comfortless despair, It cannot taste of merriment. +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +That’s certain. <i>Con</i>.<br/> +But see where your stern father comes It is not meet that he should find you +thus. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Hey, what the plague!—what a cut is here! Why, what is become of the +description of her first meeting with Don Whiskerandos—his gallant +behaviour in the sea-fight—and the simile of the canary-bird? +</p> + +<p>TILNURINA.<br/> +Indeed, sir, you’ll find they will not be missed. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Very well, very well! +</p> + +<p>TILNURINA.<br/> +[<i>To</i> CONFIDANT.] The cue, ma’am, if you please. +</p> + +<p>CONFIDANT.<br/> +It is not meet that he should find you thus. +</p> + +<p>TILNURINA.<br/> +Thou counsel’st right; but ’tis no easy task For barefaced grief to +wear a mask of joy. +</p> + +<p><i>Enter</i>. GOVERNOR. +</p> + +<p>GOVERNOR.<br/> +How’s this!—in tears?—O Tilburina, shame! Is this a time for +maudling tenderness, And Cupid’s baby woes?—Hast thou not heard +That haughty Spain’s pope-consecrated fleet Advances to our shores, while +England’s fate, Like a clipp’d guinea, trembles in the scale? +</p> + +<p>TILNURINA.<br/> +Then is the crisis of my fate at hand! I see the fleets approach—I +see— +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Now, pray, gentlemen, mind. This is one of the most useful figures we tragedy +writers have, by which a hero or heroine, in consideration of their being often +obliged to overlook things that are on the stage, is allowed to hear and see a +number of things that are not. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Yes; a kind of poetical second-sight! +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Yes.—Now then, madam. <i>Tilb</i>.<br/> +I see their decks Are clear’d!—I see the signal made! The line is +form’d!—a cable’s length asunder! I see the frigates +station’d in the rear; And now, I hear the thunder of the guns! I hear +the victor’s shouts—I also hear The vanquish’d +groan!—and now ’tis smoke-and now I see the loose sails shiver in +the wind! I see—I see—what soon you’ll see— +</p> + +<p>GOVERNOR.<br/> +Hold, daughter! peace! this love hath turn’d thy brain The Spanish fleet +thou canst not see—because—It is not yet in sight! +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +Egad, though, the governor seems to make no allowance for this poetical figure +you talk of. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +No, a plain matter-of-fact man;—that’s his character. +<i>Tilb</i>.<br/> +But will you then refuse his offer? +</p> + +<p>GOVERNOR.<br/> +I must—I will—I can—I ought—I do. +</p> + +<p>TILNURINA.<br/> +Think what a noble price. +</p> + +<p>GOVERNOR.<br/> +No more—you urge in vain. +</p> + +<p>TILNURINA.<br/> +His liberty is all he asks. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +All who asks, Mr. Puff? Who is— +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Egad, sir, I can’t tell! Here has been such cutting and slashing, I +don’t know where they have got to myself. +</p> + +<p>TILNURINA.<br/> +Indeed, sir, you will find it will connect very well. —And your reward +secure. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Oh, if they hadn’t been so devilish free with their cutting here, you +would have found that Don Whiskerandos has been tampering for his liberty, and +has persuaded Tilburina to make this proposal to her father. And now, pray +observe the conciseness with which the argument is conducted. Egad, the +<i>pro</i> and <i>con</i> goes as smart as hits in a fencing match. It is +indeed a sort of small-sword-logic, which we have borrowed from the French. +</p> + +<p>TILNURINA.<br/> +A retreat in Spain! +</p> + +<p>GOVERNOR.<br/> +Outlawry here! +</p> + +<p>TILNURINA.<br/> +Your daughter’s prayer! +</p> + +<p>GOVERNOR.<br/> +Your father’s oath! +</p> + +<p>TILNURINA.<br/> +My lover! +</p> + +<p>GOVERNOR.<br/> +My country! +</p> + +<p>TILNURINA.<br/> +Tilburina! +</p> + +<p>GOVERNOR.<br/> +England! +</p> + +<p>TILNURINA.<br/> +A title! +</p> + +<p>GOVERNOR.<br/> +Honour! +</p> + +<p>TILNURINA.<br/> +A pension! +</p> + +<p>GOVERNOR.<br/> +Conscience! +</p> + +<p>TILNURINA.<br/> +A thousand pounds! +</p> + +<p>GOVERNOR.<br/> +Ha! thou hast touch’d me nearly! +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +There you see-she threw in <i>Tilburina</i>.<br/> +Quick, parry Carte with <i>England</i>! Ha! thrust in tierce <i>a +title</i>!—parried by <i>honour</i>.<br/> +Ha! <i>a pension</i> over the arm!—put by by <i>conscience</i>.<br/> +Then flankonade with <i>a thousand pounds</i>—and a palpable hit, egad! +</p> + +<p>TILNURINA.<br/> +Canst thou—Reject the suppliant, and the daughter too? +</p> + +<p>GOVERNOR.<br/> +No more; I would not hear thee plead in vain: The father softens—but the +governor Is fix’d! [<i>Exit</i>.] +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +Ay, that antithesis of persons is a most established figure. +</p> + +<p>TILNURINA.<br/> +’Tis well,—hence then, fond hopes,—fond passion hence; Duty, +behold I am all over thine— +</p> + +<p>DON FEROLO WHISKERANDOS.<br/> +[<i>Without</i>.] Where is my love—my— +</p> + +<p>TILNURINA.<br/> +Ha! +</p> + +<p><i>Enter</i> DON FEROLO WHISKERANDOS. +</p> + +<p>DON FEROLO WHISKERANDOS.<br/> +My beauteous enemy!— +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +O dear, ma’am, you must start a great deal more than that! Consider, you +had just determined in favour of duty—when, in a moment, the sound of his +voice revives your passion—overthrows your resolution—destroys your +obedience. If you don’t express all that in your start, you do nothing at +all. +</p> + +<p>TILNURINA.<br/> +Well, we’ll try again. +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +Speaking from within has always a fine effect. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Very. +</p> + +<p>DON FEROLO WHISKERANDOS.<br/> +My conquering Tilburina! How! is’t thus We meet? why are thy looks +averse? what means That falling tear—that frown of boding woe? Ha! now +indeed I am a prisoner! Yes, now I feel the galling weight of these Disgraceful +chains—which, cruel Tilburina! Thy doting captive gloried in +before.—But thou art false, and Whiskerandos is undone! +</p> + +<p>TILNURINA.<br/> +O no! how little dost thou know thy Tilburina! +</p> + +<p>DON FEROLO WHISKERANDOS.<br/> +Art thou then true?—Begone cares, doubts, and fears, I make you all a +present to the winds; And if the winds reject you—try the waves. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +The wind, you know, is the established receiver of all stolen sighs, and +cast-off griefs and apprehensions. +</p> + +<p>TILNURINA.<br/> +Yet must we part!—stern duty seals our doom Though here I call yon +conscious clouds to witness, Could I pursue the bias of my soul, All friends, +all right of parents, I’d disclaim, And thou, my Whiskerandos, shouldst +be father And mother, brother, cousin, uncle, aunt, And friend to me! +</p> + +<p>DON FEROLO WHISKERANDOS.<br/> +Oh, matchless excellence! and must we part? Well, if—we must—we +must—and in that case The less is said the better. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Heyday! here’s a cut!—What, are all the mutual protestations out? +</p> + +<p>TILNURINA.<br/> +Now, pray, sir, don’t interrupt us just here: you ruin our feelings. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Your feelings!—but, zounds, my feelings, ma’am! +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +No, pray don’t interrupt them. <i>Whisk</i>.<br/> +One last embrace. +</p> + +<p>TILNURINA.<br/> +Now,—farewell, for ever. +</p> + +<p>DON FEROLO WHISKERANDOS.<br/> +For ever! +</p> + +<p>TILNURINA.<br/> +Ay, for ever! [<i>Going</i>.] +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +’Sdeath and fury!—Gad’s life!—sir! madam! if you go out +without the parting look, you might as well dance out. Here, here! +</p> + +<p>CONFIDANT.<br/> +But pray, sir, how am I to get off here? +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +You! pshaw! what the devil signifies how you get off! edge away at the top, or +where you will—[<i>Pushes the</i> CONFIDANT <i>off</i>.] Now, +ma’am, you see— +</p> + +<p>TILNURINA.<br/> +We understand you, sir. Ay, for ever. +</p> + +<p>BOTH.<br/> +Oh! [<i>Turning back, and exeunt.—Scene closes</i>.] +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +Oh, charming! +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Hey!—’tis pretty well, I believe: you see I don’t attempt to +strike out anything new—but I take it I improve on the established modes. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +You do, indeed! But pray is not Queen Elizabeth to appear? +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +No, not once—but she is to be talked of for ever; so that, egad, +you’ll think a hundred times that she is on the point of coming in. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Hang it, I think it’s a pity to keep her in the green-room all the night. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +O no, that always has a fine effect—it keeps up expectation. +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +But are we not to have a battle? +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Yes, yes, you will have a battle at last: but, egad, it’s not to be by +land, but by sea—and that is the only quite new thing in the piece. +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +What, Drake at the Armada, hey? +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Yes, i’faith—fire-ships and all; then we shall end with the +procession. Hey, that will do, I think?, +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +No doubt on’t. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Come, we must not lose time; so now for the under-plot. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +What the plague, have you another plot? +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +O Lord, yes; ever while you live have two plots to your tragedy. The grand +point in managing them is only to let your under-plot have as little connection +with your main-plot as possible.—I flatter myself nothing can be more +distinct than mine; for as in my chief plot the characters are all great +people, I have laid my under-plot in low life, and as the former is to end in +deep distress, I make the other end as happy as a farce.—Now, Mr. +Hopkins, as soon as you please. +</p> + +<p><i>Enter</i> UNDER PROMPTER. +</p> + +<p>UNDER PROMPTER.<br/> +Sir, the carpenter says it is impossible you can go to the park scene yet. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +The park scene! no! I mean the description scene here, in the wood. +</p> + +<p>UNDER PROMPTER.<br/> +Sir, the performers have cut it out. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Cut it out! +</p> + +<p>UNDER PROMPTER.<br/> +Yes, sir. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +What! the whole account of Queen Elizabeth? +</p> + +<p>UNDER PROMPTER.<br/> +Yes, sir. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +And the description of her horse and side-saddle? +</p> + +<p>UNDER PROMPTER.<br/> +Yes, sir. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +So, so; this is very fine indeed!—Mr. Hopkins, how the plague could you +suffer this? +</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Hop</i>.<br/> +[<i>Within.</i>] Sir, indeed the pruning-knife— +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +The pruning-knife—zounds!—the axe! Why, here has been such lopping +and topping, I shan’t have the bare trunk of my play left +presently!—Very well, sir—the performers must do as they please; +but, upon my soul, I’ll print it every word. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +That I would, indeed. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Very well, sir; then we must go on.—Zounds! I would not have parted with +the description of the horse!—Well, sir, go on.—Sir, it was one of +the finest and most laboured things.—Very well, sir; let them go +on.—There you had him and his accoutrements, from the bit to the +crupper.—Very well, sir; we must go to the park scene. +</p> + +<p>UNDER PROMPTER.<br/> +Sir, there is the point: the carpenters say, that unless there is some business +put in here before the drop, they sha’n’t have time to clear away +the fort, or sink Gravesend and the river. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +So! this is a pretty dilemma, truly!—Gentlemen, you must excuse +me—these fellows will never be ready, unless I go and look after them +myself. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +O dear, sir, these little things will happen. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +To cut out this scene!—but I’ll print it—egad, I’ll +print it every word! [<i>Exeunt</i>.] +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3>ACT III.</h3> + +<h4>SCENE I.—<i>The Theatre, before the curtain.</i> </h4> + +<p><i>Enter</i> PUFF, SNEER, <i>and</i> DANGLE. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Well, we are ready; now then for the justices. [<i>Curtain rises.</i>] +JUSTICES, CONSTABLES, &c., <i>discovered</i>. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +This, I suppose, is a sort of senate scene. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +To be sure; there has not been one yet. +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +It is the under-plot, isn’t it? +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Yes.—What, gentlemen, do you mean to go at once to the discovery scene? +</p> + +<p>JUSTICE.<br/> +If you please, sir. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Oh, very well!—Hark’ee, I don’t choose to say anything more; +but, i’faith they have mangled my play in a most shocking manner. +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +It’s a great pity! +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Now, then, Mr. justice, if you please. +</p> + +<p>JUSTICE.<br/> +Are all the volunteers without? +</p> + +<p>CONSTABLE.<br/> +They are. Some ten in fetters, and some twenty drunk. +</p> + +<p>JUSTICE.<br/> +Attends the youth, whose most opprobrious fame And clear convicted crimes have +stamp’d him soldier? +</p> + +<p>CONSTABLE.<br/> +He waits your pleasure; eager to repay The best reprieve that sends him to the +fields Of glory, there to raise his branded hand In honour’s cause. +</p> + +<p>JUSTICE.<br/> +’Tis well—’tis justice arms him! Oh! may he now defend his +country’s laws With half the spirit he has broke them all! If ’tis +your worship’s pleasure, bid him enter. +</p> + +<p>CONSTABLE.<br/> +I fly, the herald of your will. [<i>Exit.</i>] +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Quick, sir. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +But, Mr. Puff, I think not only the justice, but the clown seems to talk in as +high a style as the first hero among them. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Heaven forbid they should not in a free country!—Sir, I am not for making +slavish distinctions, and giving all the fine language to the upper sort of +people. +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +That’s very noble in you, indeed. <i>Enter</i> JUSTICE’S LADY. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Now, pray mark this scene. <i>Lady</i> Forgive this interruption, good my love; +But as I just now pass’d a prisoner youth, Whom rude hands hither lead, +strange bodings seized My fluttering heart, and to myself I said, An’ if +our Tom had lived, he’d surely been This stripling’s height! +</p> + +<p>JUSTICE.<br/> +Ha! sure some powerful sympathy directs Us both— +</p> + +<p><i>Enter</i> CONSTABLE <i>with</i> SON. What is thy name? +</p> + +<p>SON.<br/> +My name is Tom Jenkins—<i>alias</i> have I none—Though +orphan’d, and without a friend! +</p> + +<p>JUSTICE.<br/> +Thy parents? +</p> + +<p>SON.<br/> +My father dwelt in Rochester—and was, As I have heard—a +fishmonger—no more. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +What, sir, do you leave out the account of your birth, parentage, and +education? +</p> + +<p>SON.<br/> +They have settled it so, sir, here. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Oh! oh! <i>Lady</i>.<br/> +How loudly nature whispers to my heart Had he no other name? +</p> + +<p>SON.<br/> +I’ve seen a bill Of his sign’d Tomkins, creditor. +</p> + +<p>JUSTICE.<br/> +This does indeed confirm each circumstance The gipsy told!—Prepare! +</p> + +<p>SON.<br/> +I do. +</p> + +<p>JUSTICE.<br/> +No orphan, nor without a friend art thou—I am thy father; here’s +thy mother; there Thy uncle—this thy first cousin, and those are all your +near relations! +</p> + +<p>JUSTICE’S LADY.<br/> +O ecstasy of bliss! +</p> + +<p>SON.<br/> +O most unlook’d for happiness! +</p> + +<p>JUSTICE.<br/> +O wonderful event! [<i>They faint alternately in each other’s arms</i>.] +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +There, you see, relationship, like murder, will out. +</p> + +<p>JUSTICE.<br/> +Now let’s revive—else were this joy too much! But come—and +we’ll unfold the rest within; And thou, my boy, must needs want rest and +food. Hence may each orphan hope, as chance directs, To find a +father—where he least expects! [<i>Exeunt</i>.] +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +What do you think of that? +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +One of the finest discovery-scenes I ever saw!—Why, this under-plot would +have made a tragedy itself. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Ay! or a comedy either. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +And keeps quite clear you see of the other. <i>Enter</i> SCENEMEN, <i>taking +away the seats</i>. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +The scene remains, does it? +</p> + +<p>SCENEMAN.<br/> +Yes, sir. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +You are to leave one chair, you know.—But it is always awkward in a +tragedy, to have your fellows coming in in your play-house liveries to remove +things.—I wish that could be managed better.—So now for my +mysterious yeoman. <i>Enter</i> BEEFEATER. +</p> + +<p>BEEFEATER.<br/> +Perdition catch my soul, but I do love thee. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Haven’t I heard that line before? +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +No, I fancy not.—Where, pray? +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +Yes, I think there is something like it in Othello. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Gad! now you put me in mind on’t, I believe there is—but +that’s of no consequence; all that can be said is, that two people +happened to hit upon the same thought—and Shakspeare made use of it +first, that’s all. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Very true. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Now, sir, your soliloquy—but speak more to the pit, if you +please—the soliloquy always to the pit, that’s a rule. +</p> + +<p>BEEFEATER.<br/> +Though hopeless love finds comfort in despair, It never can endure a +rival’s bliss! But soft—I am observed. [<i>Exit</i>.] +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +That’s a very short soliloquy. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Yes—but it would have been a great deal longer if he had not been +observed. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +A most sentimental Beefeater that, Mr. Puff! +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Hark’ee—I would not have you be too sure that he is a Beefeater. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +What, a hero in disguise? +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +No matter—I only give you a hint. But now for my principal character. +Here he comes—Lord Burleigh in person! Pray, gentlemen, step this +way—softly—I only hope the Lord High Treasurer is perfect—if +he is but perfect! <i>Enter</i> LORD BURLEIGH, <i>goes slowly to a chair, and +sits.</i> +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Mr. Puff! +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Hush!—Vastly well, sir! vastly well! a most interesting gravity. +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +What, isn’t he to speak at all? +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Egad, I thought you’d ask me that!—Yes, it is a very likely +thing—that a minister in his situation, with the whole affairs of the +nation on his head, should have time to talk!—But hush! or you’ll +put him out. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Put him out; how the plague can that be, if he’s not going to say +anything? +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +There’s the reason! why, his part is to think; and how the plague do you +imagine he can think if you keep talking? +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +That’s very true, upon my word! LORD BURLEIGH <i>comes forward, shakes +his head, and exit</i>. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +He is very perfect indeed! Now, pray what did he mean by that? +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +You don’t take it? +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +No, I don’t, upon my soul. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Why, by that shake of the head, he gave you to understand that even though they +had more justice in their cause, and wisdom in their measures—yet, if +there was not a greater spirit shown on the part of the people, the country +would at last fall a sacrifice to the hostile ambition of the Spanish monarchy. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +The devil! did he mean all that by shaking his head? +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Every word of it—if he shook his head as I taught him. +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +Ah! there certainly is a vast deal to be done on the stage by dumb show and +expressions of face; and a judicious author knows how much he may trust to it. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Oh, here are some of our old acquaintance. <i>Enter</i> SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON +<i>and</i> SIR WALTER RALEIGH. +</p> + +<p>SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON.<br/> +My niece and your niece too! By Heaven! there’s witchcraft +in’t.—He could not else Have gain’d their hearts.—But +see where they approach Some horrid purpose lowering on their brows! +</p> + +<p>SIR WALTER RALEIGH.<br/> +Let us withdraw and mark them. [<i>They withdraw</i>.] +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +What is all this? +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Ah! here has been more pruning!—but the fact is, these two young ladies +are also in love with Don Whiskerandos.—Now, gentlemen, this scene goes +entirely for what we call situation and stage effect, by which the greatest +applause may be obtained, without the assistance of language, sentiment, or +character: pray mark! <i>Enter the two</i> NIECES. +</p> + +<p>FIRST NIECE.<br/> +Ellena here! She is his scorn as much as I—that is Some comfort still ! +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +O dear, madam, you are not to say that to her face!—Aside, ma’am, +aside.—The whole scene is to be aside. <i>1st Niece</i>.<br/> +She is his scorn as much as I—that is Some comfort still. [<i>Aside</i>.] +</p> + +<p>SECOND NIECE.<br/> +I know he prizes not Pollina’s love; But Tilburina lords it o’er +his heart. [<i>Aside</i>.] +</p> + +<p>FIRST NIECE.<br/> +But see the proud destroyer of my peace. Revenge is all the good I’ve +left. [<i>Aside</i>.] +</p> + +<p>SECOND NIECE.<br/> +He comes, the false disturber of my quiet. Now vengeance do thy worst. +[<i>Aside</i>.] +</p> + +<p><i>Enter</i> DON FEROLO WHISKERANDOS. +</p> + +<p>DON FEROLO WHISKERANDOS.<br/> +O hateful liberty—if thus in vain I seek my Tilburina! +</p> + +<p>BOTH NIECES.<br/> +And ever shalt! SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON <i>and</i> SIR WALTER RALEIGH <i>come +forward</i>. +</p> + +<p>SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON and SIR WALTER RALEIGH.<br/> +Hold! we will avenge you. +</p> + +<p>DON FEROLO WHISKERANDOS.<br/> +Hold <i>you</i>—or see your nieces bleed! [<i>The two</i> NIECES <i>draw +their two daggers to strike</i> WHISKERANDOS: <i>the two</i> UNCLES <i>at the +instant, with their two swords drawn, catch their two</i> NIECES’ +<i>arms, and turn the points of their swords to</i> WHISKERANDOS, <i>who +immediately draws two daggers, and holds them to the two</i> NIECES’ +<i>bosoms</i>.] +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +There’s situation for you! there’s an heroic group!—You see +the ladies can’t stab Whiskerandos—he durst not strike them, for +fear of their uncles—the uncles durst not kill him, because of their +nieces.—I have them all at a dead lock!—for every one of them is +afraid to let go first. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Why, then they must stand there for ever! +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +So they would, if I hadn’t a very fine contrivance for’t.—Now +mind—<i>Enter</i> BEEFEATER, <i>with his halbert</i>. +</p> + +<p>BEEFEATER.<br/> +In the queen’s name I charge you all to drop Your swords and daggers! +[<i>They drop their swords and daggers</i>.] +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +That is a contrivance indeed! +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Ay—in the queen’s name. +</p> + +<p>SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON.<br/> +Come, niece! +</p> + +<p>SIR WALTER RALEIGH.<br/> +Come, niece! [<i>Exeunt with the two</i> NIECES.] +</p> + +<p>DON FEROLO WHISKERANDOS.<br/> +What’s he, who bids us thus renounce our guard? +</p> + +<p>BEEFEATER.<br/> +Thou must do more—renounce thy love! +</p> + +<p>DON FEROLO WHISKERANDOS.<br/> +Thou liest—base Beefeater! +</p> + +<p>BEEFEATER.<br/> +Ha! hell! the lie! By Heaven thou’st roused the lion in my heart! Off, +yeoman’s habit!—base disguise! off! off! [<i>Discovers himself by +throwing off his upper dress, and appearing in a very fine waistcoat.</i>] Am I +a Beefeater now? Or beams my crest as terrible as when In Biscay’s Bay I +took thy captive sloop? +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +There, egad! he comes out to be the very captain of the privateer who had taken +Whiskerandos prisoner—and was himself an old lover of Tilburina’s. +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +Admirably managed, indeed! +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Now, stand out of their way. <i>Whisk.</i> I thank thee, Fortune, that hast +thus bestowed A weapon to chastise this insolent. [<i>Takes up one of the +swords</i>.] +</p> + +<p>BEEFEATER.<br/> +I take thy challenge, Spaniard, and I thank thee, Fortune, too! [<i>Takes up +the other sword</i>.] +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +That’s excellently contrived!—It seems as if the two uncles had +left their swords on purpose for them. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +No, egad, they could not help leaving them. <i>Whisk</i>.<br/> +Vengeance and Tilburina! +</p> + +<p>BEEFEATER.<br/> +Exactly so—[<i>They fight—and after the usual number of wounds +given</i>, WHISKERANDOS <i>falls</i>.] +</p> + +<p>DON FEROLO WHISKERANDOS.<br/> +O cursed parry!—that last thrust in tierce Was fatal.—Captain, thou +hast fenced well! And Whiskerandos quits this bustling scene For all +eter— +</p> + +<p>BEEFEATER.<br/> +—nity—he would have added, but stern death Cut short his being, and +the noun at once! +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Oh, my dear sir, you are too slow: now mind me.—Sir, shall I trouble you +to die again? <i>Whisk</i>.<br/> +And Whiskerandos quits this bustling scene For all eter— +</p> + +<p>BEEFEATER.<br/> +—nity—he would have added,— +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +No, sir—that’s not it—once more, if you please. +</p> + +<p>DON FEROLO WHISKERANDOS.<br/> +I wish, sir, you would practise this without me—I can’t stay dying +here all night. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Very well; we’ll go over it by-and-by.—[<i>Exit</i> WHISKERANDOS.] +I must humour these gentlemen! <i>Beef</i>.<br/> +Farewell, brave Spaniard! and when next— +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Dear sir, you needn’t speak that speech, as the body has walked off. +</p> + +<p>BEEFEATER.<br/> +That’s true, sir—then I’ll join the fleet. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +If you please.—[Exit BEEFEATER.] Now, who comes on? <i>Enter</i> +GOVERNOR, <i>with his hair properly disordered</i>. +</p> + +<p>GOVERNOR.<br/> +A hemisphere of evil planets reign! And every planet sheds contagious frenzy! +My Spanish prisoner is slain! my daughter, Meeting the dead corse borne along, +has gone Distract! [<i>A loud flourish of trumpets</i>.] But hark! I am +summoned to the fort: Perhaps the fleets have met! amazing crisis! O Tilburina! +from thy aged father’s beard Thou’st pluck’d the few brown +hairs which time had left! [Exit.] +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Poor gentleman! +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Yes—and no one to blame but his daughter! +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +And the planets— +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +True.—Now enter Tilburina! +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Egad, the business comes on quick here. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Yes, sir—now she comes in stark mad in white satin. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Why in white satin? +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +O Lord, sir—when a heroine goes mad, she always goes into white +satin.—Don’t she, Dangle? +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +Always—it’s a rule. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Yes—here it is—[<i>Looking at the book</i>.] Enter Tilburina stark +mad in white satin, and her confidant stark mad in white linen. <i>Enter</i> +TILBURINA <i>and</i> CONFIDANT, <i>mad, according to custom</i>. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +But, what the deuce! is the confidant to be mad too? +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +To be sure she is: the confidant is always to do whatever her mistress does; +weep when she weeps, smile when she smiles, go mad when she goes +mad.—Now, Madam Confidant—but keep your madness in the background, +if you please. <i>Tilb.</i> The wind whistles—the moon rises—see, +They have kill’d my squirrel in his cage: Is this a +grasshopper?—Ha! no; it is my Whiskerandos—you shall not keep +him—I know you have him in your pocket—An oyster may be +cross’d in love!—who says A whale’s a bird?—Ha! did you +call, my love?—He’s here! he’s there!—He’s +everywhere! Ah me! he’s nowhere! [<i>Exit</i>.] +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +There, do you ever desire to see anybody madder than that? +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +Never, while I live! +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +You observed how she mangled the metre? +</p> + +<p>DANGLE.<br/> +Yes,—egad, it was the first thing made me suspect she was out of her +senses! +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +And pray what becomes of her? +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +She is gone to throw herself into the sea, to be sure—and that brings us +at once to the scene of action, and so to my catastrophe—my sea-fight, I +mean. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +What, you bring that in at last? +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Yes, yes—you know my play is called <i>The Spanish Armada</i>; otherwise, +egad, I have no occasion for the battle at all.—Now then for my +magnificence!—my battle!—my noise!—and my +procession!—You are all ready? +</p> + +<p>UNDER PROMPTER.<br/> +[<i>Within.</i>] Yes, sir. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Is the Thames dressed? <i>Enter</i> THAMES <i>with two</i> ATTENDANTS. +</p> + +<p><i>Thames</i>.<br/> +Here I am, sir. +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Very well, indeed!—See, gentlemen, there’s a river for +you!—This is blending a little of the masque with my tragedy—a new +fancy, you know—and very useful in my case; for as there must be a +procession, I suppose Thames, and all his tributary rivers, to compliment +Britannia with a fête in honour of the victory. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +But pray, who are these gentlemen in green with him? +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Those?—those are his banks. +</p> + +<p>SNEER.<br/> +His banks? +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Yes, one crowned with alders, and the other with a villa!—you take the +allusions?—But hey! what the plague!—you have got both your banks +on one side.—Here, sir, come round.—Ever while you live, Thames, go +between your banks.—[<i>Bell rings.</i>] There; so! now +for’t!—Stand aside, my dear friends!—Away, Thames! +[<i>Exit</i> THAMES <i>between his banks.</i>] [<i>Flourish of drums, trumpets, +cannon, &c., &c. Scene changes to the sea—the fleets +engage—the music plays—Britons strike home.—Spanish fleet +destroyed by fire-ships, &c.—English fleet advances—music +plays, Rule Britannia.—The procession of all the English rivers, and +their tributaries, with their emblems, &c., begins with Handel’s +water music, ends with a chorus to the march in Judas’ +Maccabaeus.—During this scene,</i> PUFF <i>directs and applauds +everything—then</i> +</p> + +<p>PUFF.<br/> +Well, pretty well—but not quite perfect. So, ladies and gentlemen, if you +please, we’ll rehearse this piece again tomorrow. [<i>Curtain +drops.</i>] +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Trip to Scarborough and The Critic, +by Richard Brinsley Sheridan + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A TRIP TO SCARBOROUGH AND THE CRITIC *** + +***** This file should be named 7108-h.htm or 7108-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/7/1/0/7108/ + +Produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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