« PreviousContinue »
lago. Why, but you are now well dren : but you need not be told, that nei. enough: how came you thus recovered ? ther conjugal attachments, maternal affec
Caf. It has pleafed the devil Drunken, tions, nor even the care of a kingdom's ness to give place to the devil Wrath, one welfare or a nation's glory, can excuse a imperfectness shews me another, to make person who has received a fummons to the me frankly despise myself.
realms of death. If the grim messenger lago. Come, you are too severe a mo- was not as peremptory as unwelcome, raler. As the time, the place, and the Charon would not get a passenger (except condition of this country stands, I could now and then a hypocondriacal Englishheartily with this had not befallen; but man) once in a century. You must be fince it is as it is, mend it for your own content to leave your husband and family,
and pass the Styx. Cal. I will ask him for my place again Mrs. Modish. I did not mean to infine
he fhall tell me I am a drunkard! on any engagement with my husband and Had I as many mouths as Hydra, such an children; I never thought myself engaged answer would stop them all. To be now a to them. I had no engagements but such sensible man, by and by a fool, and pre- as were common to women of my rank. fently a bealt !-Every inordinate cup is Look on my chimney-piece, and you will unbless'd, and the ingredient is a devil. fee I was engaged to the play on Mondays,
lago. Come, come, good wine is a good balls on Tuesdays, the opera on Saturdays, familiar creature, if it be well us’d; ex- and to card assemblies the rest of the week, claim no more against it. And, good Lieu- for two months to come ; and it would be tenant, I think you think I love you. the rudest thing in the world not to keep
Caf. I have well approv'd it, Sir.-I my appointments. If you will stay for me drunk!
till the summer season, I will wait on you Iago. You, or any man living, may be with all my heart. Perhaps the Elysian drunk at some time, man. I tell you what fields may be less deteftable than the counyou shall do. Our general's wife is now try in our world. Pray, have you a fine the general. Confess yourself freely to Vauxhall and Ranelagh? I think I should her : importune her help, to put you in not dislike drinking the Lethe waters, your place again. She is of so free, so when you have a full season. kind, lo apt. 1o blessed a disposition, the Mercury. Surely you could not like to holds it a vice in her goodness not to do drink the waters of oblivion, who have more than she is requetted. This broken made pleasure the business, end, and aim joint between you and her husband, entreat of your life! It is good to drown cares : her to splinter! and, my fortunes against but who would wash away the remembrance any lay worth naming, this crack of your of a life of gaiety and pleasure ? love shall grow stronger than it was be- Mrs. Modish. Diversion was indeed the fore.
bufiness of my life ; but as to pleasure, I Caf. You advise me well
have enjoyed none since the novelty of my lago. I proteit, in the fincerity of love amusements was gone off. Can one be and honeft kindness.
pleased with seeing the same thing over . Caf. I think it freely; and, betimes in and over again? Late hours and fatigue the morning, I will beleech the virtuous gave me the vapours, spoiled the natural Desdemona to undertake for me.
chearfulness of my temper, and even in lago. You are in the right. Good night, youth wore away my natural vivacity. Lieutenant : I must to the watch.
Mercury. If this way of life did not Caf. Good night, honeft lago. give you pleasure, why did you continue
Shakespeare, in it? I suppose you did not think it was
very meritorious ?
Mrs. Modish. I was too much engaged $ 26. A Dialogue between MERCURY to think at all: so far indeed my manner and a modern fine Lady.
of life was agreeable enough. My friends Mrs. Modish. Indeed, Mr. Mercury, I always told me diversions were neceffary, cannot liave the pleasure of waiting upon and my doctor assured me dillipation was you now, I am engaged, absolutely en- good for my spirits ; my husband insisted gaged.
that it was not ; and you know that one Mercury. I know yon have an amiable loves to oblige one's friends, comply with affectionate husband, and several fine chile one's doctor, and contradict one's husband;
and besides, I was ambitious to be thought and for that which you have just concluded. du bon ton *.
Minos is a four old gentleman, without the Mercury. Bon ton! what's that, Ma- least smattering of the bon ton; and I am dam? Pray define it.
in a fright for you. The best thing I can Mrs. Modifs. Oh, Sir, excuse me; it advise you is, to do in this world as you did is one of the privileges of the bon ton never in the other, keep happiness in your view, to define or be defined. It is the child but never take the road that leads to it. and the parent of jargon. It is -- I can Remain on this fide Styx; wander about never tell you what it is; but I will try to without end or aim; look into the Elyfian tell you what it is not. In conversation it fields, but never attempt to enter into them, is not wit; in manners it is not politeness; left Minos should push you into Tartarus; in behaviour it is not address; but it is a for duties neglected may bring on a sen. little like them all. It can only belong to tence not much less severe than crimes people of a certain rank, who live in a cer- committed. Dialogues of the Dead., tain manner, with certain persons who have not certain virtues, aud who have certain $ 27. Scene between, the Jews SHYLOCK vices, and who inhabit a certain part of and TUBAL; in wbich the latter alterthe town. Like a place by courtesy, it nately torments and pleases the former, by gets an higher rank than the person can giving him an Account of the Extravagance claim, but which those who have a legal of his Daughter. Jessica, and tbe Misa title to precedency dare not dispute, for fear of being thought not to understand the rules of politeness. Now, Sir, I have told you Shy. How now,, Tuba!? What news as much as I know of it, though I have ads from Genoa? halt thou heard of my mired and aimed at it all my life,
daughter? Mercury. Then Madam, you have wasted Tub. I often came where I did hear of your time, faded your beauty, and de- her, but cannot find her. stroyed your health, for the laudable pur. Shy. Why there, there, there! a dia. poses of contradicting your husband, and mond gone that cost me two thousand du. being this something and this nothing cal- cats in Francfort! The curse never fell led the bon ton
upon our nation till now; I never felt it Mrs. Modish. What would you have had till now. Two thousand ducats in that, me do?
and other precious, precious jewels! I Mercury, I will follow your mode of would my daughter were dead at my foot, instructing: I will tell you what I would and the jewels in her ear! O would the not have had you do. I would not have were hears'd at my foot, and the ducats in had you sacrifice your time, your reason, her coffin! No news of them; and I know and your duties to fashion and folly. I not what spent in the search: loss upon would not have had you neglect your hul- loss! the thief gone with so much, and so band's happiness, and your children'sedu- much to find the thief; and no satisfaction, cation.
no revenge; no ill luck stirring but what Mrs. Modish. As to my daughters' edu. lights on my shoulders; no sighs, but o' cation I spared no expence: they had a my breathing: no tears, but o' my sheddancing-master, music-master, and draw- ding! ing-maiter, and a French governess to Tub. Yes, other men have ill luck too! teach them behaviour and the French lan- Antonio, as I heard in Genoa-guage.
Shy. What, what, what! ill luck, ill Mercury. So their religion, sentiments, luck? and manners, were to be learnt from a Tub. Hath an argofie cast away, com. dancing.mafter, music-master, and a chaming from Tripoli. ber-maid! perhaps they might prepare Shy. Thank God! thank God! is it them to catch the bon ton. Your daughters true ? is it true? must have been so educated as to fit them Tub. I spoke with some of the sailors to be wives without conjugal affection, and that escaped the wreck. mothers without maternal care. I am sorry Shy. I thank thee, good Tubal; good for the sort of life they are commencing, news, good news! * Du bon ton is a cant phrase in the modern
Tub. Your daughter spent in Genoa, French language, for the falhionable air of conver
turn as I heard, in one night, fourscore du
as ☺ Sacion and manners,
Shy. Thou stick'st a dagger in me; I P. Henry. Why, what's the matter? shall never see my gold again : fourscore Fal. Are you not a coward ? answer docats at a fitting ! fourscore ducats ! me that.
Tub. There came divers of Antonio's P. Henry. Ye fat paunch, an' ye call creditors in my company to Venice, that me coward, I'll flab thee. Swear he cannot but break.
Fal. I call thee coward! I'l see thee Sby. I'm glad of it: I'll plague him, hang'd ere I'll call thee coward; but I I'll torture him: I am glad of it.
would give a thousand pound I could run Tub. One of them thew'd me a ring as fast as thou canst. You ate strait enough that he had of your daughter for a mon- in the shoulders; you care not who sees
your back. Call you that backing of your Sby. Out upon her! thou torturest me, friends ? a plague upon such backing! Tubal! it was my ruby, I had it of Leah give me them that will face me-give me when I was a batchelor; I would not have a cup of sack: I am a rogue if I drank given it for a wilderness of monkies.
to-day. Tub. But Antonio is certainly undone. P. Henry. O villain! thy lips are scarce
Shy. Nay, that's true, that's very true: wip'd fince thou drank 'ft last. go fee me an officer, bespeak him a fort. Fal. All's one for that. He drinks. 1 night before. I will have the heart of A plague of all cowards! still, fay 1. him, if he forfeit; for were he out of P. Henry. What's the matter? Venice, I can make what merchandize I Fal. What's the matter! here be four will. Go, go, Tubal, and meet me at of us have ta’en a thousand pound this oar synagogue; go, good Tubal; at our morning. fynagogue. Tubal. Shakespeare. P. Henry. Where is it, Jack? where
is it? § 28. Humourous Scene between Prince Fal. Where is it! taken from us, it is: HENRY and FALSTAFF, in wbich the a hundred upon four of us. Prince detect's FALSTAFF's monstrous P. Henry. What! a hundred, man? Lies.
Fal. I am a rogue if I were not at halfP. Henry. Welcome, Jack ! - Where fword with a dozen of them two hours tohaft thou been?
gether. I have escaped by miracle. I am Fal. A plague of all cowards, I say, eight times thrust through the doublet, four and a vengeance too, marry and amen! through the hose, my buckler cut through Give me a cup of sack, boy :-ere I lead and through, my sword hack'd like a handthis life long, I'll few nether socks and saw, ecce fignum! I never dealt better since mend them, and foot them too. A plague I was a man: all would not do. A plague of all cowards! give me a cop of fack, of all cowards! rogue. Is there no virtue extant ? He P. Henry. What, fought you with them drinks)-You rogue, here's lime in this all ? fack too. There is nothing but roguery Fal. All! I know not what ye call all; to be found in villainous man; yet a cow. but if I fought not with fifty of them, I am ard is worse than a cup of sack with lime in a bunch of radish; if there were not two it. A villainous coward! Go thy ways, or three and fifty upon poor old Jack, then old Jack; die when thou wilt, if manhood, I am no two-leggd creature. good manhood, be not forgot upon the P. Henry. Pray Heav'n you have not face of the earth, then am I a shotten her murdered some of them! ring. There live not three good men un- Fal. Nay, that's past praying for. I hang'd in England, and one of them is fat, have pepper'd two of them; two, I am and grows old, Heaven help the while ! A sure, I have paid; two rogues in buckram bad world! I say— A plague of all cow. suits. I tell thee what, Hal, if I tell thee a ards! I say ftill.
lie, spit in my face, call me a horse. Thou P. Henry. How now, Woolfack! what knoweft my old ward: here I lay, and thus mutter you?
I Bore my point; four rogues in buckram Fal. A king's fon! If I do not beat let drive at me. thee out of thy kingdom with a dagger of P. Henry. What, four! thou faidst but lach, and drive all thy subjects afore thee two even now. like a flock of wild geese, I'll never wear Fal. Four, Hal, I told thee fourhair on my face more! You Prince of These four came all a front, and mainly Wales !
thrust at me: I made no more ado, but
took all their seven points in my target, can shew it you here in the house. And, thus.
Falstaff, you carry'd your guts away as P. Henry. Seven! why they were but nimbly, with as quick dexterity, and soar'd four even now.
for mercy, and still ran and roar'd, as ever Fal. In buckram?
I heard a bull-calf. What a llave art thou, P. Henry. Ay, four, in buckram suits. to hack thy sword as thou hast done, and
Fal. Seven by these hilts, or I am a then say it was in fight! What trick, what villain else. Dost thou hear me, Hal! device, what starting-hole canst thou now
P. Henry. Ay, and mark thee too, Jack. find out, to hide thee from this open and
Fal. Do fo, for it is worth the listening to apparent shame? These nine in buckram, that I told thee of "Fal. Ha! ha! ha!-D'ye think I
P. Henry. So, two more already, did not know you! By the Lord, I knew
Fal. Their points being broken, began you as well as he that made you. Why, to give me ground; but I follow'd me hear ye my master, was it for me to kill the close, came in foot and hand, and, with a heir-apparent? should I turn upon the true thought-seven of the eleven I paid. prince? why, thou knowest I am as valiant
P. Henry. O monstrous ! eleven buck, as Hercules; but beware instinct; the lion ram men grown out of two.
will not touch the true prince ; instinct is a Fal. But as the devil would have it, great matter. I was a coward on instinct, three misbegotten knaves, in Kendal-green, I grant you: and I shall think the better of came at my back, and let drive at me; myself and thee during my life; I for a (for it was so dark, Hal, that thou couldit valiant lion, and thou for a true prince. not see thy hand.)
But I am glad you have the money. Let P. Henry. These lies are like the father us clap to the doors; watch to-night, pray that begets them, gross as a mountain, tomorrow. What, shall we be merry ? open, palpable. Why, thou clay-brained fall we have a play extempore ? guts, thou knotty-pated fool, thou obscene P. Henry. Content !-and the argugreasy tallow-catch
ment shall be, thy running away. Fal. What. art thou mad } art thou Fal. Ah!-no more of that, Hal, if mad? is not the truth the truth?
thou loveít me.
Shakespeare. P. Henry. Why, how couldit thou know these men in Kendal-green, when it was so
§ 29. Scene in which Moody gives
MANLY an Account of the Journey to dark thou couldit not see thy hand? Come,
LONDON. tell us your reason: what say'st thou to this? Come, your reason, Jack, your reason. Manly. Honeft John!
Fal. . What upon compulsion !-No: Moody. Meafter' Manly! I am glad I were I at the strappado, or all the racks in ha' fun ye.Well, and how d'ye do, Mea. the world, I would not tell you on compul- ster? fion! Give you a reason on compulsion! Manly. I am glad to see you in LonIf reasons were as plenty as blackberries, don, I hope all the good family are well. I would give no man a reason upon com. Moody. Thanks be prais'd, your honour, pulsion. .
they are all in pretty good heart; thof' we P. Henry. I'll be no longer guilty of have had a power of crofles upo' the road. this fin. This fanguine coward, this bed - Manly. What has been the matter, John? preffer, this horse-back-breaker, this huge M oody. Why, we came up in such a hill of fleth
hurry, you mun think, that our tackle was Fal. Away, you starveling, you elf-skin, not so tight as it should be. you dry'd neat's tongue, you ftock-fith! Manly. Come, tell us all-Pray, how O, for breath to utter! what is like thee? do they travel? you taylor's yard, you fheath, you bow. Moody. Why, i'the awld coach, Meacase, you vile standing tuck
fter; and 'cause my Lady loves to do things P. Henry. Well, breathe a while, and handsome, to be sure, the would have a then to't again; and when thou haft tir'd couple of cart-horses clapt to the four old thyself in base comparisons, hear me speak geldings, that neighbours might see the but this :-Poins and I saw you four set on went up to London in her coach and fix; four; you bound them, and were masters and so Giles Joulter, the ploughman, rides of their wealth: mark now, how a plain poftillion. tale shall put you down. Then did we two Manly. And when do you expect them set on you four, and with a word out-fac'd here, John? you from your prize, and have it; yea, and Moody. Why, we were in hopes to ha'
come yesterday, an' it had no' been that that I wish you, unless you have at the th'awld weazle-belly horse tired: and then same time at leait an equal portion of we were so cruelly loaden, that the two fore, judgment to keep it in good order) wear wheels came crash down at once, in Wag- it, like your sword, in the scabbard, and do gon-rut-lane, and there we loft four hours not blandith it to the terror of the whole 'fore we could set things to rights again. company. Wit is a shining quality, that
Manly. So they bring all their baggage every body admires; most people aim at with the coach, then?
it, all people fear it, and few love it, unless Moody. Ay, ay, and good store on't in themselves:-a man muft have a good there is-Why, my lady's gear alone were share of wit himself, to endure a great share as much as filled four portmantel erunks, in another. When wit exerts itself in satire, besides the great deal box that heavy Ralph it is a most malignant distemper: wit, it is and the monkey fit upon behind.
true, may be fewn in fatire, but fatire Manly. Ha, ha, ha!--And, pray, hový does not constitute wit, as many imagine: many are they within the coach?
A man of wit ought to find a thousand Moody. Why there's my lady and his better occasions of Thewing it. .. worfhip, and the younk '[quoire, and Miss Abitain, therefore, molt carefully from Jenny, and the fat lap.dog, and my lady's fatire; which, though it fall on no particu: maid Mrs. Handy, and Doll Tripe the lar person in company, and momentarily, cook, that's all-only Doll puked a little from the malignancy of the human heart, with riding backward; so they hoisted her pleales all; yet, upon refle&tion, it frightinto the coach-box, and then her stomach ens all too. Every one thinks it may be was easy.
his turn next; and will hate you for what Manly. Ha, ha, ha!
he finds you could say of him, more than Moody. Then you mun think, Measter, be obliged to you for what you do not say. there was some ftowage for the belly, as Fear and hatred are next-door neighwell as th' back too; children are apt to bours: the more wit you have, the more be famith'd upo' the road; so we had such good-nature and politeness you must shew, cargoes of plumb cake, and baskets of to induce people to pardon your superiori. tongues, and biscuits, and cheese, and cold ty; for that is no easy matter. boil'd beef-and then, in case of sickness, Appear to have rather less than more bottles of cherry-brandy, plague-water, wit than you really have. A wise man sack, tent, and itrong beer so plenty, as will live at least as much within his wit as made th'awld coach crack again. Mercy his income. Content yourself with good upon them! and send them all well to sense and reason, which at the long run town, I fay.
are ever sure to please every body who has Manly. Ay,and well out on't again, John. either; if wit comes into the bargain, wel.
Moody. Meafter! you're a wise mon! come it, but never invite it. Bear this truth and, for that matter, so am 1-Whoam's always in your mind, that you may be adwhoam, I say: I am sure we ha' got but mired for your wit, if you have any; but little good e'er fin' we turn'd our backs that nothing but good lense and good quaon't. Nothing but mischief! fome de lities can make you be beloved. These are vil's trick or other plagued us aw th' day substantial every day's wear : whereas wit lung. Crack, goes one thing! bawnce, is a holiday-luit, which people put on goes another! Woa! says Roger. Then, chiefly to be fared at. fowse! we are all set fast in a slough. There is a species of minor wit, which Whaw! cries Mifs: Scream! go the is much used, and much more abused; I maids; and bawl just as thof' they were mean raillery. It is a most mischievous stuck. And so, mercy on us! this was the and dangerous weapon, when in unskilful trade from morning to night.
and clumsy hands; and it is much safer Manly. Ha, ha, ha!
to let it quire alone than to play with it; Moody. But I mun hie me whoam; the and yet almost every body plays with it, coach will be coming every hour naw. though they see daily the quarrels and Manly. Well, honeft John
heart-burnings that it occasions. Moody. Dear Meafter Manly! the good. The injustice of a bad man is sooner nefs of goodness bless and preferve you! forgiven than the insults of a witty one ;
the former only hurts one's liberty and pro30. Directions for the Management of perty : but the latter hurts and mortines Wit.
that fecret pride which no human breast is If you have wit (which I am not sure free from. I will allow, that there is a