THE SHE GALLANT: OR, SQUARE-TOES
Outwitted.
A NEW COMEDY OF TWO ACTS.
As now performing, with great Applause, At the THEATRE in
Smock-Alley, Dublin.
LONDON, Printed for T. LOWNDES, and J. WILLIAMS, both in Fleet-street.
MDCCLXVII.
(Price One Shilling.)
Dramatis Personae.
MEN.
Sir
Anthony Woodville,
Mr. HOLLOCOMBE.
Sir
Geofry Gingle,
Mr. WAKER.
Delamour,
By the AUTHOR.
Young
Woodville,
Mr. JACKSON.
Thady Mac Brogue,
Mr. JONES.
Constable,
Mr. REMINGTON.
Watchmen,
Mr. WARD, Mr. TAYLOR,
&c.
WOMEN.
Florimel,
Mrs. JEPFERYS.
Emily,
Miss VANDERMERE.
Betty,
Miss EATON.
SCENE,
LONDON.
THE SHE GALLANT: OR, SQUARE-TOES
Outwitted.
ACT I.
SCENE I.
A street.
Enter
Delamour
and
Thady
in travelling dresses, meeting Young
Woodville.
HA!
Delamour!
welcome from
Paris,
my dear friend
(embrace;)
and honest
Thady,
how dost do?
Je vous remercies; I am bravely, sir, thank your axing.
The sight of my dear
Woodville,
in good health, gives me infinite pleasure. I am well, you see; but my heart, ah,
Woodville,
not all the sparkling beauties of the
Louvre
have had power to efface my charming
Emily's
dear, dear idea. But how does the lovely girl?—say, is she in town, that I may fly—ha! what?
I am extremely sorry that I am oblig'd, like your evil genius, to meet you with ill news on your arrival; but all the consolation I can afford my dear friend, is an assurance of my sister's constancy—To keep you no longer in suspense—my father has promis'd her hand to Sir
Geofry Ginkle
—
Cursed, infernal avarice! What motive else could have induced, the hitherto kindest parent, to make a sacrifice of his darling, his blooming
Emily,
to such an old—By Heaven I'll go this instant, and—
Arrah sir, sir, your putting yourself into passions, and flurries, is mighty silly—might silly; upon my soul—Couggar—I'll be bound to put you in a way, that you may have your own game with him. I'll tell you, d'ye see, I'll watch this Mr.
Gingle,
if it's
Gingle
you call him, and Manumshandoul, if I don't put the speak out of him,—and then, when the old divil is quiet in his grave, you may cuckold him as fast as you please. Eh, sir,
(turning to
Woodville,)
wou'dn't there be some fun in that?
(All this while
Delamour
walks about in great disorder.)
What,
Thady,
sure you would not commit murder.
Murther, arrah fat, murther, an ould son of a whore that has one leg already in the grave, and if I trip the other after it, is that murther? Oh the devil a murther in that, sure.
Come, come,
Delamour,
don't be so uneasy, your case is not desperate, the indissoluble knot is yet to be tied.
Happy
Woodville,
happy in being conscious you possess my sister's heart unrivall'd, free from the harsh injunctions of an obdurate parent to thwart your loves—but I—
Ah,
Delamour,
I am no object to be envied, and far from having an assurance of
Florimel's
affections; happy, then, indeed should I be; but she is still the same gay, unthinking, lovely, witty rogue; if in the most unfeign'd rapture I breathe my love, the return is a loud laugh, an opera tune, or a ridiculous simile, which, faith, sometimes makes me look very silly; indeed, in her more serious moments, which are but few, she, perhaps, gives me an hearing, when all at once a crowd of gayer thoughts rush on, and kill at once the hopes wherewith I was elated a few minutes before.
You shall find me a powerful advocate in your cause, but excuse me for deviating from the maxims of our modern professors of the law; my proceedings in your favour, will not be wholly disinterested; you must give me all the assistance in your power, to break the measures of your father and Sir
Geofry;
but how such a notion enter'd into his doating brain, is to me amazing. I've often heard him express the utmost abhorrence to matrimony; but then, when I reflect upon my
Emily
's beauty, I can't wonder at his being caught; old goat—
Love is far from being the sole motive of Sir
Geofry
's addresses to
Emily;
the vain hopes of having an heir of his own begetting, to inherit his estate, (which, you know, is considerable,) and to mortify his nephew; these are the spurs which prick him on, in the road which has hitherto appear'd so dreadful to him. I dare say, you know this nephew; as Sir
Geofry
had no children of his own, and intended never to marry, he bred him up under his own care, placed his chief felicity in having him receive those accomplishments, proper for a person, who (as he was to inherit Sir
Geofry
's estate after his decease) probably might make a figure in the great world; these accomplishments, join'd to a natural fine genius, a graceful person, and a beneficent courteous disposition, gain'd him the esteem of all who knew him—He was the darling of his uncle. But in this happy state, he, following the dictates of love before those of his interest, unknown to his uncle, espous'd a young lady whose only want was a fortune sufficient to render her a match suitable for the heir of Sir
Geofry.
Upon my word I commend his notion.
This imprudence of the young gentleman so exasperated the old knight, that, when he heard of it, he swore he should never be a shilling the better for him; refus'd to see him; and now this unfortunate couple are oblig'd to subsist upon a small patrimony, left him by his father, in a remote part of
Cornwall.
By your account, I really pity them, and wish with my soul, for their sake as well as my own, the current of his affections cou'd be turn'd to its former channel.
Oh 'tis the most inflexible, positive Curmudgeon; you might as soon persuade a
Jewish Rabbi
to turn
Jesuit.
A Rabbit turn Jeshit—upon my soul a comical change. Howsomever, they've very pretty boroughs; where we were they call 'em Colleges.
He's so fix'd on the completion of this marriage, that, to make sure of my father's consent, he has offer'd to take
Emily
without a portion; there he touch'd the vein; my father, at first, shock'd at such an odd proposition, gave his old friend very little encouragement; but the mention of no fortune, together with Sir
Geofry
's great estate, stifled all parental tenderness, and he now exerts all his authority, to oblige poor
Emily
to name the day, and, till then, to look upon Sir
Geofry
as a gentleman, whom his prudence has destin'd her for a husband. You may judge the distress these commands gave her, and the conflict she suffers, between her aversion to Sir
Geofry,
and the consequence of her acquiescence to her father's will.
Poor dear girl! But cou'd I not get a sight of her?
Oh, by no means, if my father knew of your arrival, 'twould bar all access to your future happiness, as he'd oblige her to marry Sir
Geofry
immediately; as yet, I'll not inform
Emily
you're in town; I'll meet you this evening at
Fynmore
's in
Pall-mall,
where, I hope, we'll think of some expedients, for our mutual advantages; adieu, dear
Delamour.
Farewel, you'll not fail. Come
Thady:
Exit
Delamour.
Sir, Sir—Sir, I've one favor to beg of your Honor.
Well,
Thady
let me hear; if it's in my power to do you one, you may command me.
I want to know, sir—you'll, pardon my boldness—But—Sir, are you sure she is not—
Am I sure she is not; who is not—what, or who do you mean?
Betty,
Sir, little
Betty,
madam
Emily
's maid.
But am I sure she is not, what?
Married, sir.
Oh—
Thady,
I understand you; why
Thady
you're very far gone in love; and is little
Betty
so happy as to be the object of your flame?
Burn me, sur, but I'm in a flame, sure enough; but, sur, may be some ould crab-jaw'd fellow or other, with a long purse, has laid a claw over her, as well as her mistress—Ogn, I am very fond of
Betty.
Well,
Thady,
to comfort you, I believe Mrs.
Betty
has kept both heart and hand for you.
Oh, upon my word, she loves me well enough; oh, that the poor devil does.
Farewel, honest
Thady
—But you must not think of seeing your little
Betty,
as 'twould be contrary to your master's interest, for any of our family to know he's in town.
Oh, never fear, sur; I'll be bound she shan't know I'm in
London;
no, no; but, sur, if you'd give your kind love, and surreverance to her for me, I'd—
Ha, ha, why
Thady,
that wou'd be letting her know I had seen you.
Aarah now aghra—Oh, upon my soul so it wou'd, sure enough; oh what a goose I am.
Farewel,
Thady.
Sur, I'm your most humble and obsquese.
Exeunt at several doors.
SCENE II.
A Chamber in Sir
Anthony
's, House,
Emily
is discovered sitting melancholy.
How cruel is it for fathers to assume so unjust a prerogative, as to oblige children to marry who they please.—Because they are the means of bringing us into the world, they think to be ever after the sole disposers, and masters of our inclinations, and will make us happy, or miserable, according to their capricious tempers. Ah, unkind
Delamour!
after repeated vows of inviolable constancy, to leave me to the perils I now suffer—on the eve of being torn from you for ever.—But here comes my father and my wrinkled Strephon—Heigh ho—
Enter Old
Woodville
and Sir
Geofry Ginkle.
Why, how now child,—
Milly,
—what, still melancholy.
Milly
—what the plague, you'll make me angry at last.—Come, receive Sir
Geofry
as you ought.
But, dear sir, consider.
I tell you I'll consider nothing, only—Sir
Geofry,
I beg your pardon; I was talking with my daughter, about some affairs relative to the marriage.—I must step to the
Bedford
Coffee-house for half an hour, or so—to meet a gentleman—Sir
Geofry,
as you'll eat a bit of dinner with us; I hope to find you here when I come back; bye, bye,
Milly
—Servant, Sir
Geofry.
Ay, ay, Sir
Anthony;
here, in the sun of my
Emilia
's presence, will I bask till thy return.
Ah, ha! well said, Sir
Geofry;
shew me a young dog of them a more ardent lover; ah, ha!
Exit.
I wou'd, sir, that sun had sufficient power to melt you into pity. (I must summon all my little rhetoric, to turn this persecution from me,
aside.
) Think, sir, the violence you are doing me, in separating me for ever from the man I love; affinity in years, sentiment, circumstances, with him, all, all conspire to render me unhappy, in marrying you; if so, you shall have my hand alone; as my heart is the property of another, you can't expect it.—
Zounds! at that rate she'd think nothing of giving the possession of her whole body to him that has her heart, if she'd a good opportunity; one comfort, he's in
Paris;
wou'd to heaven some testy Monsieur wou'd run him through the body.
Aside.
What, sir, am I not worthy of an answer?
Madam, I hope you'll pardon me. But I was considering, whether I should be married in a suit of brocade, (which, I assure you, is a very elegant suit,) or a suit of white and silver: Oh! the white and silver is very pretty, very pretty, indeed! Now, Madam, I'd consult your taste, which I know is exquisite; which do you think most proper?
Aside.
The monster mocks me; well, I'll serve him in his turn.—Oh, sir, white and silver, by all means, (I'll pluck up my spirit;) how unfortunate am I, to be prepossiess'd in favour of another; numbers of ladies of beauty and rank would be rejoiced, and with extasy accept of the honor of being lady
Ginkle;
setting your fine person, your graceful figure, your polite address, your—
Dear madam, where are you going? (Ay, the girl's in love with me, that's poz, tho' she won't own it, or how could she find out my perfections? She's a fine girl!)
He struts about with an air.
I say, sir, setting aside these irresistible perfections, your vast estate might captivate some gambling Dowager of threescore. Ha, ha, ha! since I can't bring him to reason, I'll give him a furfeit of my company; I wish
Florimel
were here to help me out.
(Florimel
sings without
)
. Thank heaven, my wish is accomplish'd.
Ah, zounds! I wish I was out of the house; now will they cut me up; they'll have no more mercy upon me, than an alderman would have upon a Turtle, at a city feast.
Enter
Florimel;
she stops short at the sight of Sir
Geofry,
with seeming amazement walks round him.
Oh, bless me—
Emily
—where got you this figure? Oh, at the sale at Spring-gardens, I suppose; 'tis very pretty, quite antique, moves admirably; by clockwork, to be sure; the nose, for all the world, like a bunch of Grapes.—
Zounds! my nose like a bunch of Grapes, what the devil is she at?—Hem—Madam—I—
As I live and breathe, Sir
Geofry Ginkle;
my dear knight, pardon me; I heard that
Williams,
the Chinaman, had imported some new figures as large as life, and as I knew
Emily
was, there yesterday, I protest, I took your worship for a purchase she had made; your head went admirably
(mimicks)
better than any Mandarin, tho' you look more like an odious, old fashioned British Druid; no, no, you do not neither, for sweet simplicity sits on each contracted feature of that reverend visage; I'll tell you; stand you two together, as I live, you put me in mind of
Chaucer
's Tale of
January
and
May.
(Emi.
and
Flo.
laugh, he looks confus'd.)
Ay, ay, 'tis what I expected,
(bows low.)
Hem, ladies, I'm obliged to mortify myself, by a little absence from this amiable presence.
Oh, my dear sir, I protest you shall not leave us,
(sings,)
Thy presence could ease me,
When nothing,
&c.
What, sir
Geofry,
is it thus you'll forsake me; inconstant, cruel sir
Geofry;
and is all your boasted love no more than this?
(affects to weep.)
Ah, poor thing! she loves me, that's poz; my dear little
Emily,
don't cry, you know I love you.
She bursts out laughing in his face.
Very well, madam, very well; I see I'm duped by my good nature, but, by the la, I'll—
Oh, heaven! he'll beat us,—you'll stay till my father comes, sir
Geofry.
Madam, you'll excuse me; I hear your new gardener is come to town; I've a curiosity to see his taste in laying out the tulip parterre, by the laurel walk.
Sir
Geofry
—a word; beware of going nigh the pond; oh, these ponds have been often fatal to despairing lovers—
I wish to the lord, you were heels over head, to the apron string, in it. I'll marry
Emily
for mere spight, that I will—
Sir
Geofry
—I've something else to say to you—
Ay,—I must decamp.
[Florimel
goes to hold him, he breaks from her, and runs away. They laugh.
]
I believe, really,
Florimel,
you envy my happiness, in having such an accomplish'd swain to sigh at my feet; for whenever you come, you chase him away; but seriously, how to avert the danger that threatens me, I know not—I wish, with all my soul, your brother were in
London
—
I must not let her know he's come home, 'twou'd hinder her ever consenting to my scheme.
[Aside.]
Emily,
don't make yourself uneasy for that, accept my service by way of proxy for him; but
Emily,
I'll give up my commission, when I've gone as far as a woman can go; the remainder I'll leave to himself—
Oh, my dear, mad girl, let me hear what project has enter'd into that fertile brain of thine, to serve me—
Project! I have, indeed, a project; but before you know it, I must have your promise of compliance to my directions—
Oh, with pleasure, for I'm sure, it must be for my good; let me hear, my dear Sibyl—
Not so fast; act as I instruct you, and I'll lay my life sir
Geofry
shall be as eager for breaking off the match, as ever he was to forward it—
Well, well, I'm all attention—
Well, then, how wou'd you like a gallant? Wou'd you take that gallant to your arms, to your bed—
Fye, fye,
Florimel,
insult not the afflictions of your friend?—
Remember your promise; a gallant you must have; but I'll turn traitor to you, and bring your father and sir
Geofry;
to a thorough conviction of the freedoms between this spark and you.
Sure, my dear
Florimel
's not in earnest—
Oh, I see, madam, you've no occasion for my advice, or assistance; I wish your ladyship a good morning—
Oh! I'll submit to whatever you propose for my freedom.
Ha, ha, ha! I see,
Emily,
you have not such an aversion to a youthful sprightly gallant; but faith you'll be deceiv'd, for, behold that gay young fellow before you; what, my dear, wou'd you be afraid to venture between a pair of sheets with me; you'll find me as harmless a bedfellow as Sir
Geofry
himself—
Dear romantic girl, but what can all this tend to?—
Can you trust your maid
Betty?
if so, she'll be necessary—
With my life—
Well, then, you had better call her, to receive her instructions—
Who's there?
[
Enter
Footman]
Send
Betty
here.
Now, pray don't interrupt me. Sir.
Geofry,
notwithstanding his devoirs to you, has an aversion to the sex, which, by the flattering hopes of an ample revenge upon his nephew, and your beauty,
(curtsies,)
has been greatly abated: Now, I think our only way is, to revive that aversion, by some very flagrant proofs of your levity.
(Enter
Betty.)
How d'ye do, Mrs.
Betty?
—
At your ladyship's service, me'm—
Now, if our petticoat triumvirate does not counterplot, and defeat, the prudent schemes of our brace of wise grey beards, may my doom be to die an old maid; but to business.—I'll immediately write an anonymous letter to Sir
Geofry,
as it were from an unknown friend—I'll let him know, that the person he designs for his wife, is unworthy of that honor, by having, criminal connection with a certain gentleman;—To corroborate this, I'll appoint a time, when he may have ocular demonstration of her dishonour; he'll immediately fall into his old opinions, and, receiving this as orthodox, fly to the place of appointment. Now I've two or three suits of
Delamour
's cloaths—one suit remarkably rich—these will I put on, and at the time appointed, which may be some very unseasonable hour, will come, and be let in by
Betty
—Then you shall see me,
en cavalier;
and you must own a figure less agreeable wou'd create a jealousy, in one more proof against deception, than your old lover.
Oh, my dear
Florimel,
the first thing he'll do, is certainly to tell my father, and I dread the effects of his rage.—In his first transports of fury, he'll turn me out of doors, then my imaginary shame will be publick. No, I could not bear to be esteemed what I most abhor.—Ah,
Florimel,
you have my sincere thanks, but I must not, cannot think of putting your scheme into execution.
Come, come, I must use you as a kind nurse would a froward child, force you to what's for your good.—You must, can, and shall carry this inimitable scheme into execution.—Faith, like a poor poet, I must praise the productions of my own brain, since I can get no other to do it.—Eh, Mrs.
Betty
what do you think?
Indeed, ma'am, I think your scheme is
unlimitable,
as your ladyship says; and I thinks as how, if my lady knows what's what, she'd stop at nothing to give sir
Geofry a gust
to her—
A disgust, you mean.
Yes, ma'am; and when the truth is afterwards known, it will resound to your ladysihp's credit, and won't hurt your character; no, not in the least.
Oh!
Emily,
'twould be a precious husband,
(Coughs, and mimicks Sir
Geofry,)
with his flannel night cap and drawers—"Oh, this damn'd gout—I'm almost tipsy with all the Port I've drank—yet no ease.—
Mily,
come to bed, dear;" then, says you, "You know, sir, I'm engag'd to my lady
Cheatwell
's rout."
(Coughs)
"Pshaw, pox on her rout; come, come; you'll find the good effects in the morning. Lay my ptisan by the bedside—Oh, lord! oh, lord! I was forgetting my swanskin wrapper.—Hand it to me, lovey.—Help it on—there—there—Zounds, my dear, take care of my toes.—Oh! this confounded rheumatism."—
Well done,
Florimel;
you've frightened me so much, by your picture of the connubial state with Sir
Geofry,
that I'll submit to whatever you'll have me.
That's a good child. Now to my charms, and to my wily trains, of power to cheat the eye, with blear illusion, and offer false presentments.
(Heroically.)
Well said, my dear enchantress.
I'll go strait about my letter. Farewel,
Emily,
and pray for my success.
With all my heart. Come,
Betty.
[Exeunt omnes.]
SCENE,
a Street.
A mad wench, that
Florimel!
she never fails to make me look ridiculous before my wife, that is to be; which, when she is, I'll take care she shall have little of her conversation.—How the young fellows will steer at my marriage; but my ungracious nephew—how he'll take it. Zounds! I wish she was pregnant this moment —I'll soon do it; aye, aye, I don't fear—yes, 'twill be a boy,
[Enter a Porter, who eyes him with great circumspection.]
What does that fellow look at me so earnestly for—Now, if I was married, I should think he smoak'd my horns. Well, sir rascal, how do you like me?—eh—
Aye, aye, 'tis he—this letter for your honour.
Let's see—thirty years ago I should think this came from some lady that eyed me from a window—Where's my spectacles;—hem—'tis meet I put them on. Now, sir, for our letter.
(Reeds; while he's reading, the Porter track off.)
'
Sir,
' (very well,)
Though by the manner you raceive this, you might doubt the truths which it contains, yet, let your care to prove them convince you, 'twas dictated by a disinterested friendship.
—
(I'm very much obliged to my friend—Here, you sir—who sent you with this letter?—He—speak boldly, man—
(Takes off his spectacles, and looks about.)
The rascal's run away—Well, to proceed—
(Reads.)
Know, sir, the lady you intend to take as a partner to your bed and fortune, has lavishly bestowed her honour on a certain young gentleman; who he is, you may probably find out.—Start not, sir, at this information, as I'll put you in a way, with, your eyes to be a witness of her same.
(The devil you will)
At the hour of two exactly, this night, wait disguised at her father's door, and you'll see this gentleman let in by
Betty
the maid.
(Ah! the devil take
Betty
the maid, the bawd, you mean, my good friend.)
He, on these occasions, is let out in the same manner at six in the morning; that by proving this, you may avoid a match so much to your dishonour, is the sincere wish, of, sir, Your unknown friend,
ANONYMOUS.
I'm your most obedient humble servant, my good friend, ANONYMOUS—Very fine, this—What a noose have I escap'd? Oh, lord!—No, it's all a damn'd lie, and I don't believe a word of it—But zounds, am I not told the time, the place, each circumstance!—An't it at my own election to prove it—ha! ha! I believe I'll catch 'em; they thought I would not get out of my warm bed at midnight—There they reckoned without their host—Zounds! I wish the hour was come—Well, till then, I'll suspend my judgment—But, hold—for a disguise—let me see—a livery; no—that would be too remarkable—A great coat like a watchman, and a pale in my hand—ay, that's good—my real person would spoil sport.
Exit.
ACT II.
SCENE,
the Street before Sir
Anthony'
s House.
Enter Sir
Geofry
in his disguise.
'TIS pretty dark. Stay, which is the house? Aye, this is it; now for our amorous spark—I believe 'tis nigh the hour—I'll draw as close to the door as possible; if I could get a sight of his face—It's well I've this disguise; if some of the collectors should find me in
propria persona,
they'd have a booty—Hush! who's that? eh, a man! no, its only a post; pox on it—I think I hear a door open; no, its the creaking of that damn'd sign.
[The clock strikes two, and the window opens.]
Zounds! the window opens—at the nick.
(at the window.)
Sir, sir, are you there? No; it's a dark night.
Not so dark, but I can see your iniquity.
I wish he were come—I hope my mistress will have such good opportunities when she's married to Sir
Geofry.
The devil doubt you.
Oh, yes, I'll warrant the old stupid cuckold will be snoring fast at these hours. Certainly, Sir
Geofry
's an ugly old devil; faugh! I loath the thoughts of him.
Spits out.
Zounds! the jade has spit upon my nose; I wish I had a charg'd pistol, I'd: blow her off her perch.
I wish with all my heart he were come.
Ay, ay, he's come so often, he's cloy'd.
'Tis a fine still night—I'll divert myself with a song.
Sings.
Damn your song—There's a jade! there's a
Syren.
[
Enter
Florimel
dressed in men's cloaths, and a backney coachman; pays the coachman.
]
Zounds! he's here—Oh, my trusty friend, ANONYMOUS—Stay, I've a good mind to give him a knock on the powder'd pate with my pole.
[Florimel,
as accidentally, drops a paper;
Betty
comes down and lets her in.
]
Ha! a letter; this may inform me something. No, there's no name. Shall I alarm the family? No; I'll go after this coachman, and enquire the name of his fare.
Exit.
Enter
Thady.
Well, upon my soul, this is comical enough—I cou'd take my oath upon the Bible Evangelist, that it was my master I seen going to the hackney—coach. I cou'd swear to the cloaths; the very grand suit he brought from
Venice
—Well, the directions he gave the coachman, was to drive like, a devil to Sir
Anthony Woodville
's, in
Bruton Street
—Arrah, what can he be about. Well, well, leave me alone for a good guess—Upon my word, I think if he diverts himself an hour or so with madam
Emilia,
I've a good right to do the same with
Betty
the maid—Stay, I believe this is the house; ay, ay, I'm right enough. He's got in, I see the coach drive at a devil of a rate. I wish I'd got up behind it—Upon my soul, he'd be a little surprized to see
Thady
—By this time they've taken their first sleep. If I could see
Betty.
[Peeps thro' the key-hole.]
Betty! Betty!
—Stay, I believe she remembers my voice—I'll sing a bit of a song—troth, and
Betty
herself sings a good song.
He sings.
After the Song, enter Sir
Geofry,
very dirty, and out of breath.
What—what a confounded fall I've got; that rascally coachman drove like
Jehu.
—I wish I had overtaken him; then I'd find out who this youth is.
Betty
—
Betty
—aye,
Betty
's gone to bed; upon my soul I wish I was with her; she's a boogoorah little creature.
Eh! who the devil's that? Another, going to take his turn.
Arrah, who's that? Oh—ay, it's a watchman—Your servant, Mr. Watchman—Arrah, did you see my master going into Sir
Anthony
's here?
Zounds! this is that bogtrotting
Irish
son of a whore,
Delamour
's man—Oh, ho, so then he's come to
London
—Oh, then the riddle's expounded.—Why, friend, who are you? or who is your master?
Who am I? and who is my master? How inquisitive these old people are always—Why, friend, my master is Mr.
Delamour,
who is just after coming from
Paris,
and thought to be married to Madam
Emilia,
Sir
Anthony Woodville
's daughter, only for an old son of a whore, one Sir
Geofry Gingle
—Monumshandoul, but the first place I catch him, I'll clapper-claw him; but my master's doing his business for him; you know my master's leavings is good enough for such an old rotten bell-weather—Now you know about my master, you must know I'm his servant, and my name is
Thady Macbrogue.
If my pole holds out, I'll break some of this fellow's bones—that will be some satisfaction—Hearkee, I believe you're a rogue.
How! I'll tell you what, I believe you're an old fool, if you don't go and cry your hour, Mr. Watchman.
So, friend, you're pimping for your master; well, I'll reward you a little for your trouble; when you go to
Dublin,
remember that, and that.
Ha, I see you want a thrashing, and, upon my soul, you shall have it.
Sir
Geofry
strikes him twice with the pole.
Thady
closes with him, trips up his heels, wrests the pole out of his hand, and is going to strike, but stops his hand.
There, you old wrangling son of a whore; are you easy?—No—I'd scorn to strike you, and you down—Get up, you rascal you—
Help—Murder—Murder—Thieves!
Oh, ho!
Exit
Thady.
Enter
Constable
and
Watch.
Peace, in the King's name; what's the matter?—Hold the lanthorn; what have we here?—Eh, a watchman—No, I don't know his face; some rogue in disguise—
You lie, you rascal, I'm a knight.
Ay, ay, I believe you are, a knight of the pad.
Take care of me, you rogues.
Ay, we'll take care of you, I'll warrant it.
What, no dress would serve the rogue, but a watchman's—All the robberies this fellow has done to-night would be left on one of us—I'm glad we've caught him.
Such a scandal to the honourable profession of watchman!—I must give him a bang for that.
Come, bring him away to the Roundhouse; there we'll search him—Take care of his hands; to be sure he has pistols—If he comes down handsomely, I'll let him go—Bring him away.
Exeunt omnes.
SCENE,
A Chamber.
Enter
Emily
and
Betty.
Is
Florimel
gone?
Yes, Me'em; she look'd amazingly handsome—Oh, Madam, does she not make a very pretty man? The very model of her brother, Mr.
Delamour.
Oh,
Betty,
don't trouble me with idle discourse—what to do I know not—How shall I abide my father's anger!
Why, to be sure, me'm, Sir
Geofry
will make a dreadful story to my master; I shall come in for my share.
A knocking is heard at the door.
I am afraid that's Sir
Geofry; Betty,
run and see.
[
Exit
Betty.]
Oh,
Florimel!
I fear no good will come of this plot of thine.
[
Enter
Betty.]
Well,
Betty.
Set your heart at rest, madam, for 'tis Sir
Geofry
all in a fume; I heard him desiring
James
to tell his master he is here.
Betty,
do you go, and find some mean to listen to them, and bring me word how my father takes it; I'll be in my own room. What shall I do?
Exeunt severally.
Enter Sir
Geofry
and
Footman.
Sir, my master will wait on you immediately.
Very well.—
[Exit Footman.]
Let me think now of all the different disasters which I suffered last night; first, after putting myself in a good sweat, by limping after an hackney coach, and to no effect, I must cool myself, by tumbling over head and heels, in a filthy kennel, by way of a Somerset; then I was in danger of suffocating, and the breaking of my neck; next, I that was never over valiant, must make a trial of my prowess, on
Irishman,
a fellow
, firm as his country oak; but,
must do him the justice to own, that
some of the generosity of an
Irish
pounding me to mummy, when he
down, which I can't deny but I deserv'd; then to be lugg'd to the Round-house, like a thief, where I was almost stifled with tobacco—Well, that expell'd vlier scents, with which, I suppose, the plce abounded, among cut-throats, pick-pockets—Oh, hers comes Sir
Anthony.
Enter Sir
Anthony.
Ha! Sir
Geofry,
a good morning; you're a brisk lover; a-dod, you're resolv'd your mistress shan't forget you—
I don't know how to open the matter him—
[Aside.]
Sir
Anthony,
I thank you, but it gives me infinite concern, as I shou'd be proud of our alliance, that I must be oblig'd to forget her—But—
But what? what?
Tho' for reasons which, perhaps, you may find out hereafter, I must stop all further proceedings, with regard to my marriage with your daughter—
How!
Yes, sir, with your daughter; yet, I hope it won't break the friendship so long subsisting between you and I—
How! stop the proceedings of the marriage! What's the meaning of all this? Stop the proceedings of the marriage!
Yes, sir, upon cool and proper reflection, I've consider'd 'twould be a very imprudent thing for a person of my age, in the wane of life, to espouse a lady so young, and possessed of so much beauty, as Miss
Emily.
Sir
Geofry,
Sir
Geofry,
is this a time for your cool, and your proper reflections?—Very well, sir, very well.—Sir, sir, let me tell you, you've used me ill, in the tenderest point, sir, and don't think it shall pass with impunity—But, sir, I see, I see thro' the shallow gloss you've given it; I see your mean, fordid reason for recanting, your repentance of the offer you made me of taking my child without a portion; there, sir, is your reason. Fye! fye! fye!
Ungenetous man! to put such an evil construction upon and concealing that, which you shall know to your confusion; since I've no other means of justification, know, sir, your daughter's a prostitute; now, sir; you know my reason,
Delamour
's the man who has dishonoured her; I saw him let into this house at two o'clock this morning; there's the mandate he obey'd; there, sir, read that, perhaps you know your daughter's hand;
Delamour
accidentally dropt it out of his pocket, and I pick'd it up; besides, I heard it all from his servant.
[Reads]
Come this night, exactly at two o'clock, and
Betty
will conduct you to the longing arms of
Emily.
—Oh, unhappy girl! wretched, wretched father!—My friend, forgive me—
From my soul.—I knew the effect the knowledge of this unfortunate affair would have on you, therefore I intended you should never know a syllable of it from me.
Here,
[Going to the wing,]
here, who's there? I'll turn the ungracious wretch out of my doors this instant, to meet the infamy she deserves—what, to make my house a brothel—As for her seducer, I'll—
No, no, hear reason, get the better of your choler; your exposing her in that manner would be wrong, quite wrong. Give me leave to advise you—Keep the whole a secret, even from your servants; as for
Betty,
she has been her confidant; send immediately to
Delamour,
found him about a marriage with
Emily
—I know his circumstances perfectly, as some of his land borders upon mine. He has a very pretty estate, but a little encumbered, owing to some extravagancies incident to young men of his volatile disposition. The fortune which I refused with
Emily,
will help to clear his estate, and pay off his sister
Florimel
's fortune; these considerations, joined to an innate principle of honour, which I never knew him deviate from till now, perhaps may influence him to accept of your offer; but don't you mention the least knowledge of their intercourse—What think ye?
Why, I don't know, my dear friend, you're too good, too good, indeed; and so should I be to follow your advice—But though she has gone astray, yet she is still my child.—Were I sure he'd cover her shame by marriage, with pleasure I'd double her portion—But 'tis most amazing—I did not think
Delamour
was return'd from
France
—Oh, sure, if I knew he was in the same kingdom, I should have taken better care of her; but, however, I'll send for him immediately—But 'tis to no purpose—a likely thing, a young fellow, like him, would tye himself for life to one he has gained upon such easy terms; and as for trusting to his honour, the young fellows of this age use the bare word as an instrument of deception on the weaker sex; the practice to them is a mere jest: Indeed her fortune, I don't know what that may do; I won't see her till I try my success with him, which is so much the better for her, for I don't think but I should dash her brains out, were I to see her. I'll instantly send to him.
Exit.
Do. Well, my friend Sir
Anthony,
I can't say but you're rightly serv'd, for preferring the love of your pelf, to the future peace and happiness of your child. Zounds! what an old, blind fool I must be, to think of marrying a girl of eighteen, as if I did not know the sex perfectly—I, that am now—let me see, how old am I now?—eh—adod, I'm upwards of threescore; aye, I shall be sixty-two the eighteenth of next—aye,
September
—I'm greatly afraid that young dog
Delamour
will not marry the girl—I wish he wou'd—I pity her, from my soul—Well, well, I'll send to
Cornwall
for my poor nephew and my pretty niece, and reinstate him in my favour—Poor
Ned
was always a good lad, and how can I blame him for doing a thing I was upon the point of doing myself; more excusable in him, because of his youth—Farewel matrimony—Well, if ever I marry, may this foolish sconce of mine be adorn'd with a pair of horns, each as long as a barber's pole.
Exit.
SCENE, Delamour's
apartments.
Enter
Delamour,
and Young
Woodville.
There's a Card, I receiv'd this instant from your father.
From my father!
[Reads]
Sir
Anthony Woodville's
compliments, and congratulations of safe arrival, wait on Mr.
Delamour.
If Mr.
Delamour's
disengag'd, Sir
Anthony
requests the honour of seeing him immediately.
What do you think of that?
Upon my soul, I don't know what to think; perhaps the wheel has turn'd; like enough; but Sir
Geofry
and he has had some pique; go to him directly—
I will, if 'twas no more than to get a sight of my
Emily.
I'll go dress myself, and be with him immediately.
Exeunt.
SCENE,
the street before Sir
Anthony's
house.
Enter
Delamour
and
Thady, Delamour
with the same suit of cloaths which
Florimel
wore.
So,
Thady,
you'll persuade me I came to this house this morning at two o'clock, in a hackney-coach.
Musha, upon my soul you did; I saw either you, or your fetch, as sure as you are standing there.
You blundering blockhead, you were drunk, and mistook some other person for me—Rap at the door—
Sir!
Rap at the door, what does the oaf stare at?
[Knocks at the door.]
Oh, yes, to be sure I mistook you for somebody else; yes, I, indeed—ah roquer a braquough.
Emilia.
looks out of the window.
Oh, heavens, Mr.
Delamour!
A servant opens the door.
Is Sir
Anthony
at home?
Oh—now I'll see little
Betty.
Yes, sir.
They both go in.
SCENE,
a chamber.
Enter
Delamour.
Now I shall be bless'd with the sight of my lovely
Emily.
Enter Sir
Anthony,
they salute respectfully.
Mr.
Delamour
I am glad to see you—
I shou'd think myself extremely happy in the good wishes of friendship of Sir
Anthony Woodville
—But as things have happen'd, since my leaving
England,
I protest I can't account a reason for having the honour of seeing him by him own command—
Why, Mr.
Delamour,
to wave all superfluous ceremony, I've a proposal to make to you, which, as I'll make it entirely your interest to accept, you won't refuse.
Sir, I'm attention.
Well, then, Mr.
Delamour,
if none of the
Parisian
girls has your heart in keeping, what wou'd you think of a wife of your own country, a plain
English
girl, with a good fortune? I say, what think you of my
Emily;
you were once fond of her?
Oh, heavens, sir, your
Emily!
—I have always, and do still think of her, as the supreme object at which all my hopes of future felicity are pointed—
Very well, sir; the fortune I intended to have given with
Emily,
if married with my consent, was six thousand pounds; now, sir, as I am conscious of your extraordinary merit, whereby I think you are not indifferent to her, if you love her well enough to marry her, I'll double that sum; what say you, sir?
This happiness so unexpected—
Oh, sir, then you won't—
With the most unfeign'd joy, with rapture, sir, I accept your offer, free from a lucrative view; and my future study shall be to convince you your goodness was not ill-plac'd—
I take you at your word; and now,
Delamour,
as I see you're a man of honour, I forgive you what's past. Ah,
Delamour!
be kind to my poor child, use her well—Oh happy change!—Here,
Betty,
call your mistress—
Forgive me what's past! I don't understand him; however, as I know the caprice of his temper, I'll make no enquiries.
Aside.
Enter
Emily.
Come hither,
Emily;
there's your husband.
[
He presents her to
Delamour,
who takes her in his arms.
]
My life—my dearest
Emily!
Oh,
Delamour!
[They both kneel.]
And now, sir, on my knees, I thank you for this precious gem, which to my heart I'll ever hold most dear.
Enter Sir
Geofry,
who starts back at seeing them on their kness.
Heaven bless my children, and confirm my forgiveness.
[
To Sir
Geofry.]
Come, my friend, with me joy, which I owe to your advice—
Ha, this, indeed, is joyful! Adod, I'm glad of it; 'twas more than I expected.
Enter
Florimel
and Young
Woodville,
hand in hand, follow'd by
Thady
and
Betty,
in the same manner—The two former kneel to Sir
Anthony.
Dearest father, extend to us your blessing, that we may participate in the general joy—
How! since 'tis so, if your father's blessing makes you happy, my children be so.
Rare doings!—
Ohono, since you're sharing the blessing, I hope my spouse and I'll come in for snacks—
Oh, ho, are you there?
So,
Thady,
you've got a mate: Well, I'll do something more than wish you joy—
I can't comprehend the meaning of all this rightly; aded, I can't fathom it—Ah, there's a great deal of the profound in it.—
Then, sir, since your sagacity's not of a sufficient length to reach the bottom, I must give you a line to eke it out, and to right my innocent friend, who has suffered so much in your opinions. Now, Sir
Geofry,
and you, Sir
Anthony,
look upon
Emily
in a different light than what you've lately done—She had a gallant, 'tis true, and here he stands, in the circumference of this simple petticoat, to hinder a preposterous match between Sir
Geofry
and my dear
Emily,
which would render her inevitably miserable. I wrote you, Sir
Geofry,
that anonymous letter, to which you gave so much credit; and in that suit of cloaths, which now my brother wears, I personated your imaginary rival, dropt the billet of assignation, which you found and shew'd Sir
Anthony.
These machinations of mine having had such happy effects, and as my real motive for deceiving you both, proceeded from my eagerness to serve my dear
Emily,
—I hope you'll both forgive me.
And is this all orthodox?
I don't know what
dox
it is, but indeed, sir, 'tis true.
Ay, ay, you were a party concern'd: Well, I forgive you.
So, 'twas a Female Gallant.
Upon my soul, and
Square-Toes outwitted.
I'm as much amaz'd at this, as any one here; for upon my honour, till now, I was entirely ignorant of every single particular.
And so, you mad wench, you were the Cuckold-maker I so much dreaded, and you've bilk'd me of my wife.—
Delamour,
with yonr leave, I'll salute your intended—
[Kisses.]
Ah, you are a happy dog!—Mind your duty; for, by the la, I'll settle a thousand pounds upon the first boy.
Flor.
And you, wise father, when you wou'd compel your child to wed against her will, 'twere well To thwart your schemes, you meet a
Florimel.
Exeunt omnes.
FINIS.