G. Phil. A river! Maria. Yes-don't you understand geography? G. Phil. The girl's crazy! Maria. Oh! sir, if you don't understand geography, you are nobody. I understand geography, and I understand orthography; you know I told you I can write-and I can dance too-will you dance a minuet? [Sings and dances. G. Phil. You shan't lead me a dance, I promise you. Maria. Oh! very well, sir-you refuse me→ remember you'll hear immediately of my being married to another, and then you'll be ready to hang yourself. G. Phil. Not I, I promise you. Maria. Oh! very well, very well- -remember- -mark my words. I'll do it, you shall see-Ha, ha! [Runs off in a fit of laughing. G. Phil. Marry you! I would as soon carry my wife to live in Bow-street, and write over the door, Philpot's punch-house.' Enter OLD PHILPOT and SIR JASPER. Sir Jas. [Singing.] So rarely, so bravely we'll hunt him over the downs, and we'll hoop and we'll halloo! Gee us your hand young gentleman; well, what zay ye to un now? Ben't she a clever girl? G. Phil. A very extraordinary girl indeed! Sir Jus. Did not I tell un zo-then you have nothing to do but to consummate as soon as you will. G. Phil. No; you may keep her, sir-I thank you. I'll have nothing to do with her. Old Phil. What's the matter now, George? Sir Jas. Ay, I told un zo. G. Phil. And that's worse than t'other. I am off, sir. Sir Jas. Odds heart! I am afraid you are no great wit. me. Enter MARIA. Maria. Well, papa, the gentleman won't have Old Phil. The numskull won't do as his father ́Old Phil. I am in the prime of my days, and of your eye is like the returning sun in the spring Maria. Dear heart! I should like to have a scene with him. Sir Jas. Hey! what's in the wind now? This won't take-My girl shall have fair play. No old fellow shall totter to her bed! What say you, my girl, will you rock his cradle ? Maria. Sir, I have on small doubt-Pray, can I have two husbands at a time? G. Phil. There's a question now! She is grown foolish again, Old Phil. Fair lady, the law of the landSir Jas. Hold ye, hold ye! let me talk of law; I know the law better nor any on ye-Two husbands at once-No, no! Men are scarce, and that's downright poaching. Maria. I am sorry for it, sir. For then I can't marry him, I see. Sir Jus. Why not? Maria. I am contracted to another. Beau. Yes, sir. [Throws opens his gown.] My name is Beaufort. And, I hope, Sir Jasper, when you consider my fortune, and my real affection for your daughter, you will generously forgive the stratagem I have made use of. Sir Jas. Master Quagmire! What, are you young Beaufort all this time? Old Phil. That won't do, sir; that won't take. Beau. But it must take, sir! You have signed the deeds for your daughter's marriage; and Sir Jasper by this instrument has made me his son-in-law. Jasper, you will agree to cancel the deeds, I supOld Phil. How is this, how is this! Then, Sir pose? for you know Sir Jas. Catch me at that, an ye can! I fulfilled my promise, and your son refused, and so where. Did I not tell you she was a clever girl? the wench has looked out slyly for herself elseI ben't ashamed o' my girl-Our Moll, you have you with all my heart. I'll stand to what I have done no harm, and Mr. Beaufort is welcome to signed, though you have taken me by surprise. Wild. Bravo! my scheme has succeeded rarely! Old Phil. And so here I am bubbled and a day's work have we made of it! Well, if it choused out of my money-George, George, what you will come and take my daughter away to-mor must be so, be it so. I desire, young gentleman, row morning, And, I'll tell you what-here, here -take my family watch into the bargain; and I wish it may play you just such another trick as it has me; that's all—I'll never go intriguing with a family-watch again. Maria. Well, sir! [To G. PHIL.] What do you think of me now? A'n't I a connoisseur, sir? and a virtuoso? Ha, ha! G. Phil. Yes! and much good may't do your husband! I have been connoisseured among ye to SCENE I.-DRUGGET's Country House. Enter WOODLEY and DIMITY. ACT I. Dim. Pho, pho! no such thing!—I tell you, Mr. Woodley, you are a mere novice in these affairs! Wood. Nay, but listen to reason, Mrs. Dimity; has not your master, Mr. Drugget, invited me down to his country seat, in order to give me his daughter Nancy in marriage? and with what pretence can he now break off? Dim. An interest in a fiddlestick! you ought to have made love to the father and motherwhat, do you think the way to get a wife, at this time of day, is by speaking fine things to the lady you have a fancy for?-That was the practice, indeed; but things are altered now-you must address the old people, sir; and never trouble your head about your mistress-None of your letters, and verses, and soft looks, and fine speeches- Have compassion, thou angelic creature, on a poor dying'-Pshaw! stuff! nonsense! all out of fashion-go your ways to the old curmudgeon; humour his whims I shall esteem it an honour, sir, to be allied to a gentleman of your rank and taste.' Upon my word, he's a Wood. You do me injustice, Mrs. Dimity-pretty young gentleman.' Then, wheel about to your advice has governed my whole conduct the mother: Your daughter, madam, is the very Have not I fixed an interest in the young lady's model of you, and I shall adore her for your sake.' Here, come hither, Nancy, take this gen Dim. What pretence !—you put a body out of all patience-But go on your own way, sir; my advice is all lust upon you. heart? tleman for better or worse.' 'La, mamma, I can never consent. I should not have thought of your consent the consent of your relations is enough: why how now, hussy! So, away you go to church, the kifot is tied, an agreeable honey-moon follows, the charm is then dissolved; you go to all the clubs in St. James's street: your lady goes to the Coterie; and, in a little time, you both go to Doctor's Commons; and, if faults on both sides prevent a divorce, you'll quarrel like contrary elements all the rest of your lives: that's the way of the world now. Wood. But you know, my dear Dimity, the old couple have received every mark of attention from me. Dim. Attention! to be sure you did not fall asleep in their company; but what then? You should have entered into their characters, played with their humours, and sacrificed to their absurdities. Wood. But if my temper is too frank Dim. Frank, indeed! yes, you have been frank euough to ruin yourself. Have you not to do with a rich old shopkeeper, retired from business with an hundred thousand pounds in his pocket, to enjoy the dust of the London road, which he calls living in the country-and yet you must find fault with his situation! What if he has made a ridiculous gimcrack of his house and gardens, you know his heart is set upon it; and could not you commend his taste? But you must be too frank! Those walks and alleys are too regular— those evergreens should not be cut into such fantastic shapes! And thus you advise a poor old mechanic, who delights in every thing that's monstrous to follow nature-Oh, you are likely to be a successful lover! Wood. But why should I not save a father-inlaw from being a laughing stock? Dim. Make him your father-in-law first. Wood. Why, he can't open his windows for the dust-he stands all day looking through a pane of glass at the carts and stage-coaches as they pass by; and he calls that living in the fresh air, and enjoying his own thoughts! Dim. And could not you let him go on in his own way? You have ruined yourself by talking sense to him; and all your nonsense to the daughter won't make amends for it. And then the mother; how have you played your cards in that quarter?-She wants a tinsel man .of fashion for her second daughter- Don't you see,' (says she) how happy my eldest girl is made by marrying Sir Charles Racket? She has been married three entire weeks, and not so much as one angry word has passed between them Nancy shall have a man of quality, too!' Wood. And yet I know Sir Charles Racket perfectly well. Dim. Yes, so do I; and I know he'll make his lady wretched at last. But what then? You should have humoured the old folks; you should have been a talking, empty fop, to the good old lady; and to the old gentleman, an admirer of his taste in gardening. But you have lost him: he is grown fond of this beau Lovelace, who is here in the house with him; the coxcomb ingras tiates himself by flattery, and you are undone by frankness! Wood. And yet, Dimity, I won't despair. Dim. And yet you have reason to despair; a million of reasons-To-morrow is fixed for the wedding-day; Sir Charles and his lady are to be here this very night; they are engaged, indeed, at a great route in town, but they take a bed here, notwithstanding. The family is sitting up for them; Mr. Drugget will keep you all up in the next room there, till they arrive; and tomorrow the business is over; and yet you don't despair! hush! hold your tongue; here comes Lovelace. Step in, and I'll advise something, I warrant you. [Exit WOODLEY.] The old folks shall not have their own way; 'tis enough to vex a body, to see an old father and mother marrying their daughter as they please, in spite of all I can do. [Exit, Enter DRUGGET and LOVELACE. Drug. And so you like my house and gardens, Mr. Lovelace? Love. Oh! perfectly, sir; they gratify my taste of all things. One sees villas, where nature reigns in a wild kind of simplicity; but then, they have no appearance of art—no art at all. Drug. Very true, rightly distinguished ;now, mine is all art; no wild nature here; I did it myself. Love. What! had you none of the great proficients in gardening to assist you? Drug. Lack-a-day! no-ha, ha! I understand these things I love my garden. The front of my house, Mr. Lovelace, is not that very pretty? Love. Elegant to a degre! Drug. Don't you like the sun-dial, placed just by my dining-room windows? Love. A perfect beauty! Drug. I knew you'd like it—and the motto is so well adapted-Tempus edar & index rerum. And I know the meaning of it-Time eateth, and discovereth all things-ha, ha! pretty, Mr. Lovelace?-I have seen people so stare at it as they pass by--ha, ha! Love. Why now, I don't believe there's a pobleman in the kingdom has such a thing?. Drug. Oh no-they have got into a false taste. I bought that bit of ground, the other side of the road-and it looks very pretty-Į made a duck-pond there, for the sake of the prospect. a Love. Charmingly imagined! Drug. My leaden images are well— Drug. I love to be surprised at the turning of walk with an inanimate figure, that looks you full in the face, and can say nothing to you,. while one is enjoying one's own thoughts-ha, ha!-Mr. Lovelace, I'll point out a beauty to you Just by the haw-haw, at the end of my ground, there is a fine Dutch figure, with a scythe in his hand, and a pipe in his mouth-that's a jewel, Mr. Lovelace. Love. That escaped me: a thousand thanks for pointing it out-J observe you have two very fine yew-trees before the house. Drug. Lack-a-day, sir, they look uncouthI have a design about them-I intend-ha, ha! it will be very pretty, Mr. Lovelace—I intend to have them cut into the shape of the two giants at Guildhall-ha, ha! Loce. Nobody understands these things like you, Mr. Drugget. Drug. Lack-a-day! it's all my delight now this is what I have been working for. I have a great improvement to make still-I propose to have my evergreens cut into fortifications; and then I shall have the Moro Castle, and the Havanna; and then near it shall be ships of myrtle, sailing upon seas of box to attack the town: won't that make my place look very rural, Mr. Lovelace? Love. Why you have the most fertile invention, Mr. Drugget -my Drug. Ha, ha! this is what I have been working for. I love my garden--but I must beg your pardon for a few moments. I must step and speak with a famous nursery-man, who is come to offer me some choice things.-Do, go and join the company, Mr. Lovelacedaughter Racket and Sir Charles will be here presently- -I sha'n't go to bed till I see them -ha, ha!. -my place is prettily variegated this is what I have been working for-I fined for sheriff to enjoy these things-ha, ha! [Exit. Love. Poor Mr. Drugget! Mynheer Van Thundertentrunck, in his little box at the side of a dike, has as much taste and eleganceHowever, if I can but carry off his daughter, if can but rob his garden of that flower why, I then shall say,This is what I have been working for.' 1 Enter DIMITY. I Dim. Do lend us your assistance, Mr. Lovelace-you're a sweet gentleman, and love a good natured action. Love. Why, how now! what's the matter? Dim. My master is going to cut the two yewtrees into the shape of two devils, I believe; and my poor mistress is breaking her heart for it.Do run and advise him against it-she is your friend, you know she is, sir. Love: Oh, if that's all I'll make that matter easy directly. Dim. My mistress will be for ever obliged to you; and you'll marry her daughter in the morn ing. Love. Oh, my rhetoric shall dissuade him. Dim. And, sir, put him against dealing with that nursery-man; Mrs. Drugget hates him. Love. Does she? Nan. Well, Dimity, what's to become of me! Dim. My stars! what makes you up, Miss? -I thought you were gone to bed! Nan. What should I go to bed for? Only to tumble and toss, and fret, and be uneasy-they are going to marry me, and I am frighted out of my wits. Dim. Why then, you're the only young lady, within fifty miles round, that would be frightened at such a thing. Nan. Ah! if they would let me chuse for my self. Dim. Don't you like Mr. Lovelace? Nan. My mamma does, but I don't; I don't mind his being a man of fashion, not I. Dim. And, pray, can you do better than follow the fashion? Nan, Ah! I know there's a fashion for new but i never heard of a fashion for the heart. bonnets, and a fashion for dressing the hair Dim. Why then, my dear, the heart mostly follows the fashion now. Nan. Does it!-pray who sets the fashion of the heart? Dim. All the fine ladies in London, o' my conscience, Nan. And what's the last new fashion, pray? Dim. Why, to marry any fop, that has a few deceitful, agreeable appearances about him; something of a pert phrase, a good operator for the teeth, and tolerable tailor. Nun. And do they marry without loving? Dim. Oh! marrying for love has been a great while out of fashion. Nan. Why, then, I'll wait till that fashion comes up again. Dim. And then, Mr. Lovelace, I reckon Nan. Pshaw! I don't like him: he talks to me as if he was the most miserable man in the world, and the confident thing looks so pleased with himself all the while! I want to marry for love, and not for card-playing—I should not be able to bear the life my sister leads with Sir Charles Racket and I'll forfeit my new cap, if they don't quarrel soon. Dim. Oh fie! no! they won't quarrel yet a while.-A quarrel in three weeks after marriage would be somewhat of the quickest-By and by we shall hear of their whims and their humours. Well, but if you don't like Mr. Lovelace, what say you to Mr. Woodley? -But Nan. Ah! I don't know what to sayI can sing something that will explain iny mind. |