Sestini. Three weeks later, in April, The Shamrock, a comic opera, was played, after which O'Keefe returned to the Haymarket. There, in July, was produced The Young Quaker, a comedy, which was followed in August by The Birthday, or the Prince of Aragon, in November The Poor Soldier, and in December, at Covent Garden, the pantomime of Friar Bacon, or Harlequin's Adventures in Lilliput. of 1762 he went to reside with an aunt in | formed on the occasion of a benefit to Signora London, where he remained for two years, frequenting the playhouses, and greatly admiring the acting of Garrick. He returned to Dublin in 1764, and shortly after began his career as a player and dramatic writer. Being introduced to Mossop, then manager of the Smock Alley Theatre, Dublin, he was engaged by him, and continued acting for a dozen years, first in tragedy, afterwards, on the discovery of his comic vein, in comedy. In 1767 his farce of The She-gallant, afterwards called The Positive Man, was produced by Mossop with success. Some years after he married, and in 1777 removed with his young family to London. Before this time he had written a kind of sequel to Goldsmith's She Stoops to Conquer, which he named Tony Lumpkin in Town, and sent anonymously to Mr. Colman, of the Haymarket Theatre. The play was produced there in 1778, and met with considerable success. In the spring of 1779 O'Keefe returned to Dublin for a short time, when he finished his comic opera of The Son-in-Law, and sent it to Colman. It was produced at the Haymarket in August, 1779, and took the town by storm, the European Magazine declaring that "the great success of this drama has scarce been equalled." The piece was also successful in Dublin. O'Keefe soon after moved to Lon- | don, but here he failed to find an engagement as a player, and was forced to devote himself entirely to writing. From this time plays and farces flowed from his pen in quick succession, until in 1798, when a collection of his works was published, he had given to the world over fifty pieces. In June, 1781, his Dead Alive appeared, and was closely followed by his most popular piece The Agreeable Surprise, which is said to have been the last piece written by his own hand. A cold brought on by a fall into the river Liffey when a young man had caused severe inflammation of the eyes, which resulted in loss of sight, and the need of an amanuensis in his future literary work. In November, 1781, The Banditti, a Comic Opera, was given at Covent Garden, and turned out a failure on the very first night. In March, 1782, The She-gallant, under the title of The Positive Man, was played at the same house, and in November of the same year The Banditti was successfully revived under the title of The Castle of Andalusia. In the same month The Lord Mayor's Day saw the light, and in February, 1783, The Maid's the Mistress was per During 1784 appeared Peeping Tom, a musical farce, and Fontainebleau, a comic opera. To 1785 belong The Blacksmith of Antwerp, a farce, which was a failure; A Beggar on Horseback, a dramatic proverb; and Omai, a pantomime acted at Covent Garden. Love in a Camp and The Siege of Curzola, both comic operas, were produced in 1786; and in 1787 appeared The Man Milliner, a farce, and a failure, and The Farmer, a farce also, but successful. In March, 1788, appeared Tantura, or Rogues All, a failure; in July, The Prisoner at Large, acted at the Haymarket with deserved success; and in November The Highland Reel, a comic romance, which met with considerable favour. O'Keefe continued to write for the stage until 1799, publishing Wild Oats in 1792, which is considered one of his best plays. As he was now totally blind, and had been reduced by misfortunes to a state of great pecuniary embarrassment, he received in 1800, through the kindness of Mr. Harris, a benefit at Covent Garden Theatre. At the end of one of the acts he was led on to the stage and delivered a humorous and pathetic address, which was received with tears and unbounded applause. During the remaining years of his life several poems, fables, &c., of his appeared in different magazines, and in 1826 he published Recollections of the Life of John O'Keefe, in two vols. In this year he was cheered by what he calls "an accumulation of honour from the king, and a most happy and welcome addition to my means," in the shape of an annual pension of one hundred guineas from his majesty's private purse. After more than forty years of blindness, borne cheerfully and uncomplainingly, he died at Southampton, Feb. 4, 1833. In the following year the long list of his works may be said to have ended by the publication of a small volume of poems and personal reminiscences, entitled O'Keefe's Legacy to his Daughters. In attempting a critical estimate of O'Keefe it would be unfair to judge him by any of the higher standards. He seems to have remembered and thoroughly acted up to Johnson's words, that "they who live to please must please to live," and the task he set before himself he accomplished successfully. Of course in the great number of his plays there are many of little value to-day, but at least a dozen of them are worthy of perusal, and some of them yet keep the stage. The wheat in his works is sound and plentiful enough to be worth winnowing, and his chaff is by no means altogether worthless chaff.] A thicker part of the Forest. Large tree and stone cross. Enter DON SCIPIO, attacked by SANGUINO, RAPINO, and CALVETTE, banditti. One of the band SPADO, who is cowardly, hides in a tree. San. Now, Rapino, lop off his sword arm. Don S. Forbear! There's my purse, you rascals! (Throws it down.) San. Fire! San. I am wounded-hew him to pieces! Enter DoN FERNANDO. Don F. Ha, what murderous ruffians! Don S. Oh! I hav'n't fought so much these twenty years. Spa. Eh, we have lost the field-cursed dark-though I think I could perceive but one man come to the relief of our old Don here. Don S. But where are you, signor? Approach, my brave deliverer! Spa. So, here's a victory and nobody to claim it. I think I'll go down and pick up the laurel. (Descends from the tree.) I'll take the merit of this exploit-I may get something by it. Don S. I long to thank, embrace, worship this generous stranger, as my guardian angel! Spa. (Aside.) I may pass for this angel in the dark, so here goes. Hem! Villains! Scoundrels! Robbers! to attack an old gentleman on the king's highway! But I made the dogs scamper! (Vapouring about.) Don S. Oh, dear! this is my preserver! Spa. Who's there? Oh, you are the worthy old gentleman I rescued from these rascally Ped. Banditti! (A shot without.) Ah, we are banditti. dead men! Don F. Somebody in trouble. Ped. No, somebody's troubles are over. Don F. Follow! Who can deny assistance to his fellow-creature in distress? Don S. Noble, valiant stranger-ISpa. No thanks, signor, I have saved your life, and a good action rewards itself. Don S. A gallant fellow, 'faith! Eh, as well as I could distinguish in the dark you looked much taller just now. (Looking close at him.) Spa. When I was fighting! True, anger raises me; I always appear six foot in a passion Ped. What fine creatures these gentlemen-besides, my hat and plume added to my are! But for me, I am a poor, mean, rascally servant; so I'll e'en take my chance with the mules. [Exit. height. Don S. (By accident treading on the purse.) Hey, the rogues have run off without my purse, too. Spa. (Aside.) O, ho! What, I have saved | ney to your castle when benighted in the your purse as well as your precious life. Well, forest here. of a poor fellow, I am the luckiest dog in all Spain. Don S. Poor! Good friend, accept this purse, as a small token of my gratitude. Spa. Nay, dear sir. Don S. You shall take it! Spa. Lord! I am so awkward at taking a purse. (Takes it.) Don S. Hey, if I could find my cane, tooI dropped it some hereabout when I drew to defend myself. (Looking about.) Spa. (Aside.) Zounds! I fancy here comes the real conqueror-no matter-I've got the spoils of the field. (Chinks the purse, and retires.) Don S. Ay, my amber-headed cane. (Still looking about.) Re-enter DON FERNANDO. Don F. The villains! Don S. (Embraces him.) Oh! my dear boy! (Aside.) D-d mean of him to take my purse, though. Ah, Fernando, you were resolved to touch some of your wife's fortune beforehand. Don F. Sir, I— Don S. Hush, you have the money, and keep it-ay, and the ring too; I'm glad it's not gone out of the family. Hey, it grows lighter.-Come Don F. My rascal, Pedrillo, is fallen asleep somewhere. Don S. No, we are not safe here. Come, then, my dear, brave, valiant― (Aside.) Cursed paltry to take my purse, though. [Spado knowing something of the family gains admission to the castle, and manages to set the whole household at a game of cross purposes, while he helps himself to the plate found out.] Don S. Ay, you made them fly like pigeons, and valuables. But his imposition is at length my little game-cock. Don F. Oh, I fancy this is the gentleman that was attacked. Not hurt, I hope, sir. Don S. No, I'm a tough old blade. Oh, gadso; well thought on; feel if there's a ring on the purse; it's a relic of my deceased lady -it's with some regret I ask you to return it. Don F. Return what, sir? Don S. A ring you'll find on the purse. Don F. Ring and purse! Really, sir, I don't understand you. Don S. Well, well, no matter. (Aside.) A mercenary fellow! Don F. (Aside.) The old gentleman has been robbed, and is willing that I should reimburse his losses. Don S. It grows lighter; I think I can distinguish the path I lost. Follow me, my hero, and (As going, suddenly turns, and books steadfastly at Don Fernando.) Zounds, signor, I hope you are not in a passion-but I think you look six feet high again! A NICE LITTLE SUPPER. (FROM "THE PRISONER AT LARGE.") [Muns and Mary, man and woman servants of Old Dowdle. Frill a servant of Count Fripon, to whom Dowdle expects to marry his daughter Rachel. Frill is himself in love with Mary, and jealous of Muns. Old Dowdle goes on a journey, his daughter Rachel sends for her lover Jack Connor, when her father unexpectedly returns.] A Hall--MUNs and MARY discovered placing tables, and a screen between. Muns. There! the lovers sha'n't be overlooked by us. (Laughing.) Ha, ha, ha! Here, Tooten and I'll sit and take our pleasure— while they mingle lips we'll jingle glasses. Oh, how I love to see good cheer going for[Exeunt. Don F. (Aside.) A strange, mad old fellow ward! this. Don S. These rascals may rally, so come along to my castle, and my daughter Victoria shall welcome the preserver of her father. Don F. Your daughter Victoria! Then perhaps, sir, you are Don Scipio, my intended father-in-law. Don S. Eh? Why, zounds, is it possible that you can be my expected son, Fernando? Don F. The same, sir; and was on my jour Enter FRILL. Frill. (Advancing.) So, here's rare doings in the old gentleman's absence: master and I bubbled by such clowns as Muns and Jack Connor-oh, revenge! Old D. (Without.) Who is here? Frill. Oh, choice luck! here comes the old codger home unexpectedly. Such a hobble as I'll bring 'em into! (Laughing.) Ha, ha, ha! Enter OLD DOWDLE. Old D. Oh, my bones! who's that I see there? What, are they all gone to bed?Well, I'll go too and not disturb anybody. Frill. What, sir, go to bed without your supper?—The nice supper that Miss Rachel has prepared for you? Old D. (Seeing the table laid.) Hey! what is all this? Frill. The table laid for your supper, sir. Old D. Why, who knew I was coming home? Frill. Miss Rachel, sir. agreeable. (Calls.) Muns! Where's this Enter ADELAIDE a friend of Rachel's, JACK All. (Laughing.) Ha, ha, ha! Rac. And there, now, is my old papa, trotting from cottage to barn, like a cunning little Old D. Eh! then she knows I had a fall exciseman, with his green book under his arm Old D. She took a devil of a long walk, can rest. The death of my Nugent, the misthen; for I fell six miles off. Frill. That was a great fall, indeed, sir. Frill. Walk-yes, sir-ride-sir-Mary was Frill. Yes, sir; Muns rode before her. Old D. After my orders to stay at home on the watch! Before Mary! then I suppose the rascal took my chestnut pad? Frill. Don't say I told you-but I fancy he | did-they would not wish you to know it, sir -they'll all deny it to you. Old D. Mary! he-indeed, I heard a woman squall. Frill. Yes, sir; she said she squalled. Old D. Then, perhaps, 'twas she sent the 'pothecary to me. fortunes of Lord Esmond-though I never saw him-it may seem an affectation of sensibility-I can't account for it, but I feel something inexpressibly horrid hanging over me, ever since you showed me the old lady's clothes. Rac. Sure. Ade. Not a night I don't dream I'm rummaging her clothes-press in the haunted room, as you call it. Rac. Well, my dear, if you will retire, suffer Jack to see you across the gallery. Jack C. Ay, miss, under my guard, show me the ghost that dare affront you. [Exit with Adelaide. Enter MARY with supper, which she puts on the table. Mary. There, miss. Let's see, I must bring Frill. It was, sir. (Aside.) One lie has another bottle; for your lover is a good fellow, drawn me into a dozen. and a good fellow deserves a good bottle. Old D. A busy slut! he was a farrier— called himself a surgeon, though he was a farrier; for the fellow out with a fleam, up with my leg, and swore he'd bleed me in the fetlock joint.—Where's your master? Frill. Lord, sir, didn't he come home with you? Old D. No; he said somebody from France was to meet him at an inn three miles off, he, he! But I'm glad my daughter had so much thought as to provide a morsel for me. Oh, what happiness, after all one's crosses abroad, to come to one's own home, when one's children and servants are so attentive to render it Rac. (Sits down.) I wish Jack Connor would make haste. (Begins to carve, laughing.) Ha, ha, ha! my little dad, if he knew what we were at now! Enter DowDLE, in an undress-Rachel carves with her back to him as he enters. Rac. Yes, my poor father's fast asleep by this, in some peaceful cottage. Ha, ha, ha! I would not care if he had a taste of this turkey; I know the old lad likes a bit o' the merrythought-How long my deary stays! Is that you? (Speaks without looking round.) Eh! you've been giving her a kiss, I suppose come, whilst it's hot; sit down, you foolish fellow. (Dowdle comes down, and sits opposite to her.) Ah! (Screams.) Old D. What's the matter with you? Rac. Sir, I-I-I thought it was the ghost. Old D. Why, did you invite the ghost to supper? Rac. Lord, sir, who expected you? Mary. I pick up an apothecary! Sir, I'd have you to know— Old D. He was a farrier. (Enraged.) And, sirrah, the next time you take the road— Muns. I take the road! Old D. So, you must go on the pad. Old D. Indeed, I should not have been home Where's the pillion? to-night but for the tumble. Rac. What tumble, sir? Old D. Sure, you—oh, true, I warn't to know she let Muns gallop my horses about the road. (Aside.) Well (laughing), ha, ha, ha! I forgive you and him, since it has procured me so good a supper. (laughing.) Ha, ha! Rac. Forgive us! then, sir, you know all? Old D. Yes, yes, I'm not angry-call the fellow. Rac. O precious! Then, sir, you'll let him sup with us? Old D. Sup! What, your servant? Rac. True, sir; I am his mistress, and he loves me dearly. Old D. Who, Muns? Rac. Muns! Old D. If your Muns dare to sit down at a table with me, I'll knock the scoundrel to the devil. Enter MUNS and TOOTEN a black servant, who sit at the other table. Muns. Now, Tooten, don't look towards the lovers; here we'll sit, play, and take our glasses. (They drink.) Now, up with Black Sloven. (Tooten and Muns play the horns.) Old D. (Laying down his fork.) Hey! Muns. How d'ye like that, my lad o' wax? Old D. What's that? Muns. Eh! (Surprised, softly rises and peeps over the Enter MARY with wine. (Sets them on the table where Muns sits.) Muns. (In a smothered laugh.) Ha, ha, ha! Go, give it to the jolly dog yourself. Mary. (Goes round the screen, and, seeing Dowdle, screams.) Ah! Old. D. Curse your squalling! I believe it was you that frightened my horse. Mary. Me! Muns. Mary, fetch my master the pillow. Old D. So, sirrah, she's in love with you? Muns. Yes, sir-eh, Mary? (Laughing.) Ha, ha, ha! O'd D. And you must sit down and sup with me? Muns. Eh! well-thank ye, sir. Old D. (Ironically.) Fine! - Hadn't you better ask the blackamoor? Muns. Tooten, sit down, boy. (PART OF SCENE i. ACT I.) Grog. Now must I cruise in the channel of Charing Cross to look out for this lubber that affronted me aboard the Dreadnought. I heard he put in at the Admiralty. Hold, is Rupee gone? if he thought I went to fight, mayhap he'd bring the master-at-arms upon me, and have me in the bilboes. timbers! there goes the enemy! Enter STERN, crossing. I'll hail him-Yo! ho! Stern. What cheer? Grog. Do you remember me? Smite my be The author says:-"As some of my works are now out of print, and this play is seldom, if ever, acted; it may amusing to my readers to peruse this scene, which, I may Old D. Where the devil did you pick up repeat without much boast, was the delight of the audi such an apothecary? ence. I give it as a sample of my character writing." |