Sir C. Zounds! only go, and I'll swallow your whole shop. Olla. Galen forbid! Tis enough to kill every customer I have in the parish. Then we'll throw in the bark ;-by-the-by, talking of bark, Sir Charles, that Juno of yours is the prettiest pointer Sir C. Well, well-she is yours. Olla. My dear Sir Charles! such sport next shooting season! If I had but a double-barrelled gun Sir C. Take mine that hangs in the hall. Olla. My dear Sir Charles! and coloquintida. (Aside.) Sir C. Well, begone, then. Here's morning's work; senna (Pushing him.) Olla. I'm off;-scammony and gamboge! Sir C. Nay, fly, man! Olla. I do, Sir Charles. A double-barrelled gun-I fly--the bark-I'm going—Juno-a narcotic! Sir C. Off with you! COLMAN. 17. OLD FICKLE-TRISTRAM FICKLE. Old Fickle. What reputation, what honor, what profit can accrue to you from such conduct as yours? One moment you tell me you are going to become the greatest musician in the world, and straight you fill my house with fiddlers. Tristram. I am clear out of that scrape now, sir. Old F. Then, from a fiddler, you are metamorphosed into a philosopher; and for the noise of drums, trumpets, and hautboys, you substitute a vile jargon, more unintelligible than was ever heard at the Tower of Babel. Tri. You are right, sir. I have found out that philosophy is folly; so I have cut the philosophers of all sects, from Plato and Aristotle down to the puzzlers of modern date. Old F. How much had I to pay the cooper the other day for barrelling you up in a large tub, when you resolved to live like Diogenes? Tri. You should not have paid him any thing, sir, for the tub would not hold. You see the contents are run out. Your Old F. No jesting, sir; this is no laughing matter. follies have tired me out. I verily believe you have taken the whole round of arts and sciences in a month, and have been of fifty different minds in half an hour. Tri. And, by that, shown the versatility of my genius. Old F. Don't tell me of versatility, sir. Let me see a little steadiness. You have never yet been constant to any thing but extravagance. Tri. Yes, sir, one thing more. Old F. What is that, sir? Tri. Affection for you. However my head may have wandered, my heart has always been constantly attached to the kindest of parents; and, from this moment, I am resolved to lay my follies aside, and pursue that line of conduct which will be most pleasing to the best of fathers and of friends. Old F. Well said, my boy-well said! You make me happy indeed. (Patting him on the shoulder.) Now, then, my dear Tristram, let me know what you really mean to do. Tri. To study the law Old F. The law! Tri. I am most resolutely bent on following that profession. Old F. No! Tri. Absolutely and irrevocably fixed. Old F. Better and better. I am overjoyed. Why, 'tis the very thing I wished. Now I am happy! (Tristram makes gestures, as if speaking.) See how his mind is engaged! Tri. Gentlemen of the jury— Old F. Why, Tristram― Tri. This is a cause Old F. Oh, my dear boy! I forgive you all your tricks, I see something about you now that I can depend on. (Tristram continues making gestures.) Tri. I am for the plaintiff in this cause Old F. Bravo! bravo!-excellent boy! I'll go and order your books directly. Tri. 'Tis done, sir. Old F. What, already? Tri. I ordered twelve square feet of books when I first thought of embracing the arduous profession of the law. Old F. What, do you mean to read by the foot? Tri. By the foot, sir; that is the only way to become a solid lawyer. Old F. Twelve square feet of learning! Well Tri. I have likewise sent for a barber Old F. A barber ! What, is he to teach you to shave close? Old F. You will excuse me if I cannot perfectly understand what that has to do with the study of the law. Tri. Did you never hear of Demosthenes, sir, the Athenian orator? He had half his head shaved, and locked himself up in a coal-cellar. He cer Old F. Ah! he was perfectly right to lock himself up, after having undergone such an operation as that. tainly would have made rather an odd figure abroad. Tri. I think I see him now, awaking the dormant patriotism of his countrymen-lightning in his eye, and thunder in his voice; he pours forth a torrent of eloquence, resistless in its force; the throne of Philip trembles while he speaks; he denounces, and indignation fills the bosom of his hearers; he exposes the impending danger, and every one sees impending ruin; he threatens the tyrant-they grasp their swords; he calls for vengeance-their thirsty weapons glitter in the air, and thousands reverberate the cry. One soul animates a nation, and that soul is the soul of the orator. Old F. Oh! what a figure he'll make in the King's Bench! But, come, I will tell you now what my plan is, and then you will see how happily this determination of yours will further it. You have (Tristram makes extravagant gestures, as if speaking) often heard me speak of my friend Briefwit, the barrister— Tri. Who is against me in this cause Old F. He is a most learned lawyer Tri. But as I have justice on my side Old F. Zounds! he doesn't hear a word I say! Why, Tristram! Tri. I beg your pardon, sir; I was prosecuting my studies. Old F. Now, attend Tri. As my learned friend observes Go on, sir, I am all attention. Old F. Well, my friend the counsellor Tri. Say learned friend, if you please, sir. We gentlemen of the law always— Old F. Well, well-my learned friend Tri. A black patch! Old F. Will you listen, and be silent? Tri. I am as mute as a judge. Old F. My friend, I say, has a ward, who is very handsome, and who has a very handsome fortune. She would make you a charming wife. Tri. This is an action Old F. Now, I have hitherto been afraid to introduce you to my friend, the barrister, because I thought your lightness and his gravity— Tri. Might be plaintiff and defendant. Old F. But now you are grown serious and steady, and have resolved to pursue his profession, I will shortly bring you together: you will obtain his good opinion, and all the rest follows of course. Tri. A verdict in my favor. Old F. You marry and sit down happy for life. Tri. In the King's Bench. Old F. Bravo! Ha, ha, ha! But now run to your studyrun to your study, my dear Tristram, and I'll go and call upon the counsellor. Tri. I remove by habeas corpus. Old F. Pray have the goodness to make haste, then. (Hurrying him off.) Tri. Gentlemen of the jury, this is a cause- -(Exit.) Old F. The inimitable boy! I am now the happiest father fiving. What genius he has! He'll be lord chancellor one day or other, I dare be sworn. I am sure he has talents! Oh, how I long to see him at the bar! ALLINGHAM. 18. DOCTOR WISEPATE-THADY O'KEEN-ROBERT. Doctor Wisepate, in a morning-gown and velvet night-cap, discovered at a table at breakfast. A wig-box near him, lying open. Doctor Wisepate. Plague on her ladyship's ugly cur!—it has broke three bottles of bark that I had prepared myself for Lord Spleen. I wonder Lady Apes troubled me with it. But I understand it threw down her flower-pots and destroyed all her myrtles. I'd send it home this minute, but I'm unwilling to offend its mistress; for, as she has a deal of money, and no relation, she may think proper to remember me in her will. (Noise within.) Eh! what noise is that in the hall ? (Enter Thady O'Keen, dirty and wet, followed by Robert.) T. O'Keen. But I must and will, do you see. Very pretty, indeed, keeping people standing in the hall, shivering and shaking with the wet and cold! as Robert. The mischief's in you, I believe; you order me about if you were my master. Dr. W. Why, what's all this? who is this unmannerly fellow ? T. O'K. There! your master says you are an unmannerly fellow. Rob. Sir, it's Lady Ape's servant: he has a letter, and says he won't deliver it into any one's hands but your honor's. Now, I warrant my master will teach you better behavior. (Exit.) T. O'K. Oh, are you sure you are Doctor Wisepate? T. O'K. Och! plague on my hat, how wet it is! (Shakes his hat about the room, &c.) Dr. W. (lays his spectacles down and rises from the table). Zounds! fellow, don't wet my room in that manner! T. O'K. Eh! Well-Oh, I beg pardon-there's the letter: and since I must not dry my hat in your room, why, as you particularly desire it, I will go down to the kitchen, and dry it and myself before the fire. (Goes out.) Dr. W. Here, you, sir, come back. I must teach him better manners. (Re-enter Thady O'Keen.) Hark you, fellow— whom do you live with? T. O'K. Whom do I live with? why, with my mistress, to be sure, Lady Apes. Dr. W. And pray, sir, how long have you lived with her ladyship? T. O'K. How long? Ever since the first day she hired me. Dr. W. And has her ladyship taught you no better man ners? T. O'K. Manners? she never taught me any, good or bad. Dr. W. Then, sir, I will; I'll show you how you should address a gentleman when you enter a room. What's your name? T. O'K. Name?-why, its Thady O'Keen, my jewel. What in wonder is he going to do with my name! (Aside.) Dr. W. Then, sir, you shall be Dr. Wisepate for a while, and I'll be Thady O'Keen, just to show you how you should enter a room and deliver a letter. T. O'K. Eh! what? make a swap of ourselves! my heart. Here's my wet hat for you. Dr. W. There, sit down in my chair. (Going.) With all T. O'K. Stop, stop, honey-by my shoul you can never be Thady O'Keen without you have this little shillelagh in your fist.-There. Dr. W. Very well. Sit you down. (Takes Thady's hat, &c., and goes out.) |