Pagina-afbeeldingen
PDF
ePub

790

field round; and the field, ten, fifteen, and twenty to one; for you must know, madam, the thing I was to have ridden was let down-do you mind?was let down, madam, in his exercise.

Sir A. That was unlucky!

Groom. Oh! d-d unlucky! however, we started off score, by Jupiter; and for the first half-mile, madam, you might have covered us with your underpetticoat. But your friend Bob, madam-ha, ha! I shall never forget it-poor Bob went out of the course, and run over two attorneys, an exciseman, and a little beau Jew, Mordecai's friend, madam, that you used to laugh at so immoderately at Bath; a little, fine, dirty thing, with a chocolate-coloured phiz, just like Mordecai's. The people were in hopes he had killed the lawyers, but were dy disappointed when they found he had only broken a leg of one, and the back of the other.

All. Ha, ha, ha!

Sir A. And hoo did it end, 'Squire? Wha wan the subscription?

Groom. Sir Archy, I'll be as silent as
fault.

Sir A. Then do ye retire, madam,
till him, as if ye came on purpose. 11.
in an instant.

Char. I shall be ready, Sir Archy.
Sir A. Get ye behind, get ve behind, gu-=- ļ

Groom. Ay, ay; we'll squat, never frx
Archy. An Irishman make love! I said t-
to hear what an Irishman can say when be m...
love. What do you think he'll say, litte Sandr
Do you think he'll make love in Iran?

Morde. Something very like it I
'Squire. Let us retire, here they come
Enter Sir ARCHY MACSARCASM and Sir Ca.1
GHAN O'BRALLAGHAN.

Sir A. Speak bauldly, man; ye ken the ma verb, "Faint heart-"

Sir C. That is true-"never won fair hair

Yes, I think now I have got a bumper or s may tell her my passion, and bring the point t

eclaircissement.

Sir A. Ay, that's right, mon! stick to the wull be wi' you in a twinkling. Yer servant,! ye gude success.

Groom. It lay between Dick Riot and I. We were neck and neck, madam, for three miles, as hard as we could lay leg to ground; made running every inch; but, at the first loose, I felt for him-found I had the foot-knew my bottom-pulled up-pretended to dig and cut-all fudge, all fudge, my Sir C. Sir Archy, your servant. Well, dear; gave the signal to Pond to lay it on thick-what am I to do in this business? I know its had the whip-hand all the way-lay with my nose in his flank, under the wind, thus-snug, snug, my dear, quite in hand; while Riot was digging and lapping, right and left; but it would not do, my dear, against foot, bottom, and head: so, within a hundred yards of the distance-post, poor Dick knocked up, as stiff as a turnpike, and left me to canter in by myself, and to touch them all round, Ha! took the odds.

Sir A. Weel, it is wonderful to think to what a pitch of axcellence oor nobeelity are arrived at in the art of sporting; I believe we axcel a' the nobeelity in Europe in that science, especially in jockeyship.

Groom. Sir Archy, I'll tell you what I'll do: I will start a horse, fight a main, hunt a pack of hounds, ride match or a fox chace, drive à set of horses, or hold a toast, with any nobleman in Europe, for a thousand each, and I say done first. All. Ha, ha, ha!

Sir A. Why, I ken ye wull, and I wull gang yer halves. Why, madam, the 'Squire is the keenest sportsman in a' Europe. Madam, there is naething comes amiss till him; he wull fish, or fowl, or hunt; he hunts everything; everything frae the flae i'the blanket to the elephant in the forest. He is at a' a perfect Nimrod; are ye not, 'Squire ?

Groom. Yes, d-e, I'm a Nimrod, madam; at all, at all; anything, anything. Why, I ran a snail with his grace, the other day, for five hundred; nothing in it; won it hollow, above half a horn's length. Sir A. By above half a horn's length! that was hallow, indeed, 'Squire.

Groom. Oh! devilish hollow.

Sir A. But where is Sir Callaghan a' this time? Groom. Oh! he's with Sir Theodore, who is joking him about his drinking bumpers with me, and his passion for you, madam.

Sir A. Ye mun ken, gentlemen, this lady and I hac laid a scheme to hae a little sport wi' Sir Callaghan; now, if you wull stap behind that screen, and promise to be silent, I'll gang and fetch him, and ye sall hear him make love as fierce as ony hero in a tragedy.

great scandal for a soldier to be in love in time s war: I strive to keep her out of my mind, b. can't; the more I strive to do it, the more " comes in. I am upon the forlorn-hope hem. ». must e'en make my push with vigour at once. Enter CHARLOTTE.

Char. Sir Callaghan, your servant. Sir C. Madam, I humbly beg your pardon not seeing of you sooner; but I was speaking a 40liloquy to myself, about your ladyship, and that kept me from observing you.

Char. Sir Theodore told me you wanted to speak to me upon some particular business.

Sir C. Why lookye, madam, for my part, I was never born or bred in a school of composer where they learn fine bows and fine speeches. in an academy where heads, and legs, and am and bullets, dance country-dances wither > owner's leave, just as the fortune of war dag therefore, madam, all that I can say to you a M your eyes have made me prisoner of war; thi Cupid has made a garrison of my heart, and me to devilish hard duty; and if you do bebe me, I shall be a dead man before I co

[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]

Char. But, Sir Callaghan, among & toms of love, you have forgot to men I am told is very elegant, and very powerta Sir C. Pray, what is that, madam? Char. A song that I hear you have made, set yourself, in the true Irish taste.

Sir C. Madam, I own I have been gub turing the muses in the shape of a song, an you will pardon my putting your ladyship's to it.

Char. Upon one condition I will, which is you will do me the favour to let me hear you eat Sir C. Oh dear madam, don't ax m foolish song; a mere bagatelle.

Char. Nay, I must insist upon hearing *. expect or value the smiles, or fear the from your mistress; for, by your poetry, I shall your passion.

Sir C. Then, madam, you shall have it, if ¤ ***

mes worse. Hem, hem! Fal, lal, la! I know how I shall come about the right side of ice. Now, madam, I tell you beforehand, ust not expect such fine singing from me as ear at the opera; for, you know, we Irishmen ot cut out for it like the Italians.

SONG.

ther men sing of their goddesses bright,
darken the day and enlighten the night:
of a woman—but such flesh and blood,
ch of her finger would do your heart good.
With my fal, lal, lal, &c.

Himes in each day to my charmer I come,
ll her my passion, but can't, I'm struck dumb;
Cupid he seizes my heart by surprise,

my tongue falls asleep at the sight of her eyes.
little dog Pompey's my rival, I see ;
kisses and hugs him, but frowns upon me:
a pr'ythee, my Charlotte, abuse not your charms,
ad of a lap-dog, take me to your arms.

Enter Sir THEODORE GOODCHILD, and an Attorney. Sir T. You are the attorney concerned for the creditors, Mr. Atkins?

Attor. I am, Sir Theodore; and am extremely sorry for the accident.

Sir T. I am obliged to you, sir; you do but your duty. The young lady is that way, sir; if you will step to her, I'll follow you. [Exit Attorney.] I hope you will excuse me, Sir Archy; this is a sudden and unhappy affair; I am unfit for company; I must go and open it myself to poor Charlotte. [Exit.

Morde. But pray, Sir Archy, what has occasioned all this?

Sir A. 'Faith, Mordecai, I dinna ken the particulars: but it seems, that he and a rich merchant in Holland (his partner, and joint guardian over this girl,) are baith bankrupts; and, as the lawyer that is withoot there confirms, have failed for above a hundred thoosand poonds mair than they can

answer.

Morde. But how is this to affect the young lady? har. Well, Sir Callaghan, your poetry is ex- Sir A. Why, sir, the greatest part of her fortune ent; nothing can surpass it but your singing. was in trade it seems, with Sir Theodore and his r C. Lookye, madam; to come to the point, I partner; besides, the suit in chancery, that she had w I can't talk fine courtship, and love, and non-wi' the company for aboov forty thoosand poonds, se, like other men; for I don't spake from my gue, but my heart; so that if you can take up r quarters for life with a man of honour, a sinlover, and an honest Prussian soldier, now is r time, I am your man. What do you say, ma? Come, speak the word boldly, and take me

your arms.

has been determined against her this very day; so,
that they are a' undone. Beggars, beggars!
Morde. I understand that the affair was clearly
in her favour.

Sir A. Oh! sir, ye dinna ken the law. The law is a sort of hocus pocus science, that smiles in yer face while it picks yer pocket; and the glorious uncertainty of it is of mair use to the professors than the justice of it.-Here the parties come, and seem

Enter Sir THEODORE GOODCHILD and CHARLOTTE. Char. Dear sir, be patient, and moderate your sorrow; it may not be so terrible as your apprehensions make it. Pray, bear up.

Char. Ha, ha, ha! Don't be so violent, Sir Cal-
han; but, say a lady were inclined to do herself
honour of going before a priest with you, I sup-ingly in great affliction.
se you would have so much complaisance for your
stress, as to quit your trade of war, and live at
me with her, were she to request it of you.
Sir C. Why, lookye, madam, I will deal with you
e a man of honour in that point, too, and let you
to the secret. I have received the king my
ister's money (and a brave king ne is, I assure
1) for above seventeen years, when I had none
my own; and now I am come to a title and for-
ne, and that he has need of my service, I think it
ould look like a poltroon to leave him: no, ma-
am, it is a rule with me, never to desert my king
my friend in distress.

Sir T. For myself I care not; but that you should be involved in my ruin, and left fortuneless; your fair expectations of a noble alliance blasted; your dignity and affluence fallen to scorn and penury

Char. It cannot prove so bad, sir. I will not despair, nor shall you; for though the law has been so hard against me, yet, in spite of its wiles and treachery, a competency will still remain, which shall be devoted to mitigate your misfortunes. Besides, Sir Archy Macsarcasm is a man of honour, and on his promise and assistance I will rely.

Char. Your sentiment is great, I confess, I like our principles; they are noble and most heroic, ut a little too military for me. Ha, ha, ha! [Erit. Sir C. What does she decline the battle. Well, Sir A. Wull ye! ye may as weel rely upon the hen, I'll not quit the field yet, though; I'll recon-assistance o' the philosopher's stone. What the oitre her once more, and if I can't bring her into deevil, wad she mary me to tinker up the fortunes ction, why, then, I'll break up the camp at once,o'broken citizens. But I wull speak till them, and ide post to Germany to-morrow morning, and so ake my leave in a passion, without saying a word.

[Exit.

Enter Sir ARCHY MACSARCASM and MORDECAI. Morde. Pr'ythee, what is the meaning of all this, Sir Archy? the house seems to be in the possession of bailiffs, and Sir Theodore looks and speaks as if an earthquake had just happened.

end the affair at once. Aside.]-I am concerned to see you in this disorder, Sir Theodore.

Char. If all the vows of friendship, honour, and eternal love, which you have so often made me, were not composed of idle breath, and deceitful ceremony, now let their truth be seen.

Sir A. Madam, I am sorry to be the messenger o' ill tidings, but a' oor connexion is at an end. Oor hoose hae heard o' my addresses till you; and Sir A. Your conjecture is very right, Mr. Mor- I hae had letters frae the dukes, the marquis, and decai; 'tis a' o'er wi' him! he is undone a beg-a' the dignitaries o'the family, remonstrating, nay, gar, and so is the girl.

Morde. You astonish me.

Sir A. It is an unexpected business; but 'tis a fact, I assure ye. Here he is himsel'. Poor deevil! hoo dismal he looks.

expressly prehibiting my contaminating the blood of Macsarcasm wi' ony thing sprung from a hogshead or a coonting-hoose. I assure ye my passion for ye is mighty strang, madam; but I canna bring disgrace upon an honourable family.

Char. No more; your apology is baser than your perfidy. There is no truth, no virtue in man!

looked upon myself as an unequal but now she is poor, and that it is in 1 Sir A. Gude troth, nor in woman neither, that serve her, I find something warm ab has nae fortune. But here is Mordecai: now, ma- here, that tells me I love her better! dam, a wandering Eesraelite, a casualty, a mere was rich, and makes me beg she will casualty, sprung frae annuities, bills, bubbles, bears, this instant, and all I have into her sern and lottery-tickets, and can hac nae family objec- Sir T. Generous, indeed, Sir Callaghan tions. He is passionately fond of you; and till Sir C. Madam, my fortune is not much, rat this offspring of accident and mammon I resign my enough to maintain a couple of honest hear uz interest in ye. have something to spare for the necessites. Morde. Sir, I am infinitely obliged to you; but-friend, which is all we want, and all that i mo a-matrimony is a subject I have never thoroughly good for. considered; and I must take some time to deliberate, before I determine upon that inextricable business besides, madam, I assure you, my affairs are not in a matrimonial situation.

Char. No apology, sir. Begone! I despise you and your apology.

Enter 'SQUIRE GROOM.

Groom. Hoics! hoics! What's the matter here?

What is all this? What, are we all at fault? Is this
true, Sir Theodore? I hear that you and the filly
have both run on the wrong side of the post.
Sir T. It is too true; but I hope, sir, that will
make no alteration in your affection.

Groom. Harkye! Sir Theodore, I always make my match according to the weight my thing can carry. When I offered to take her into my stable, she was sound, and in good case; but I hear her wind is touched; if so, I would not back her for a shilling. Matrimony, Sir Theodore, is a cursed long course; devilish heavy and sharp turnings. It won't do; can't come through, my dear; can't come through.

Noo, in my thoughts, the best thing the lady can Sir 4. I think, 'Squire, ye judge very nicely. do is to snap the Irishman.

Morde. Well observed, Sir Archy. Snap him, snap him, madam! Hush! he's here.

Enter Sir CALLAGHAN O'BRALLAGHAN. Sir A. Ha! my gude friend, Sir Callaghan, I kiss yer hand. I hae been speaking to the lady wi' a' the eloquence I hae: she is enamoured o' yer person, and ye are just come i'the nick to receive her heart and her hand.

Sir C. By the honour of a soldier, madam, I shall think that a greater happiness than any that fortune can bestow upon me.

Sir A. Come, come, madam; true love is impatient, and despises ceremony; gie him yer hand at

ance.

Char. No, sir; I scorn to deceive a man who offers me his heart: though my fortune is ruined, my mind is untainted; even poverty shall not pervert it to principles of baseness.

Sir C. Fortune ruined! Pray, Sir Theodore, what does the import of this language mean?

Sir T. The sad meaning is, Sir Callaghan, that, in the circuit of Fortune's wheel, the lady's station is reversed she who, some hours since, was on the highest round, is now degraded to the lowest: this, sir, has turned the passion these gentlemen professed for her into scorn and ridicule, and I suppose will cool the fervency of your's.

Sir C. Sir Theodore, I assure you, I am heartily glad of her distress.

Sir T. Sir?

Sir C. When she was computed to have a hundred thousand pounds, I loved her 'tis true; but it was with fear and trembling, like a man that loves to be a soldier, yet is afraid of a gun; because I

Sir T. Here, take her, sir; then your E what you first thought her, mistress m'a dhe fi tune.

Groom. What?

Morde. How's this?

Sir A. Gently! hush! saftly! he is my him in, he is taking him in! the bubbles a Sir T. And had she millions, your pr serve her: she has a heart, loving and potas your own, which your manly virtue has star and tempered to your warmest wishes.

Sir C. Pray, Sir Theodore, what does mean? Are you in jest, or in earnest? B honour, I don't know how to understand co you say. First, she has a fortune, then ste no fortune; and then she has a great fortune ag this is just what the little jackanapes about w call humbugging a man.

Sir T. Sir, I am serious.

Sir C. And, pray, what are you, madam? you serious, too, or in joke?

Ar

Char. Such as I am, sir, if you dare venture upon me for life, I am your's.

will venture upon you, not only for life, wat f
Sir C. By the integrity of my honour madam, ¦
death, too! which is a great deal longer than
you know.

Sir T. I hope, nephew, you will excuse the de. ceit of my feigned bankruptcy, and the pretend ruin of the lady's fortune: it was a scheme devised to detect the illiberal, selfish views of prodigals who never address the fair but as the mercenary lure attracts; a scheme to try and reward your pa sion, which hath shewn itself proof against the tes infection.

Sir C. 'Faith, then, it was no bad piece of s ralship in you. But now she has surrenders ben self prisoner of war, I think I have a right to ar her under contribution; for your kisses are awa plunder, and mine by the laws of love.rs her Upon my honour, her breath is as sweet as sound of a trumpet.

Groom. Why, the knowing ones are all taken a here; double-distanced. Zounds! she ta crimp upon us.

Morde. She has jilted us confounded. Sir A. By the cross o' St. Andrew I be venged; for I ken a lad of an honourable fiz that understands the auncient classics in t perfection; he is writing a comedy, and be suit sinuate baith their characters intill it.

Morde. And I will write a satire upon h which she shall have an intrigue with a mile-garsman and an opera-singer.

Groom. I can't write; but I'll tell you what I'l do-I'll poison her parrot, and cut off her surre tail, d—e!

Sir C. Harkye! gentlemen, I hope you my leave for all this. If you touch a hard tan parrot's head, or a feather of the squirrel's, of

f you write any of your nonsensical comedies or bespoken his nuptial chariot and a' his leeveries, ampoons, I shall be after making bold to make a and, upon honour, I am very sorry for my gude few remarks on your bodies. Ha! I have an ex-friend the 'Squire here; the lady's fortin wad hae cellent pen by my side, that is a very good critic, and that can write a very legible hand upon impertinent authors.

Sir A. Hoot awa! noot awa! Sir Callaghan, linna talk in that idle manner, sir; oor swords are 18 sharp and as responsible as the swords of ither men. But this is nae time for sic matters; ye hae got the lady, and we hae got the willows. I am sorry for the little Girgishite here, because he has

been very convenient till him, for I fancy he is fetlock deep in the turf: and, upon honour, I am sorry for the lady, for she has missed being matched intill the house of Macsarcasm, which is the greatest loss of a'.

Sir C. The whole business together is something like the catastrophe of a stage play, where knaves and fools are disappointed, and honest men rewarded. [Exeunt.

THE MAID OF THE OAKS;

▲ DRAMATIC ENTERTAINMENT, IN TWO ACTS;

BY JOHN

BURGOYNE

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

SIR HARRY GROVEBY
OLD GROVEBY
OLDWORTH

DUPELEY

HURRY

Painter

Druid

Shepherds.

LADY BAB LARDOON
MARIA

Shepherdesses

Attendants.

ACT I.

SCENE I-Part of an ornamented Farm. Enter Sir HARRY GROVEBY and DUPELEY, meeting.

Sir H. Dear Charles, welcome to England! and doubly welcome to Oldworth's Oaks! Friendship, I see, has wings, as well as love.

Dupe. Your summons found me the day after my arrival. Next to my eagerness to see you, was that of being in time for the fête champêtre. Novelty and pleasure are the beings I pursue.

Sir H. You have pursued but their shadows; here they reign, in the manners of this new Arcadia, and the smiles of the sweet maid of the Oaks.

Dupe. Who, in the name of curiosity, is she that bears this romantic title? for your letter was a mere eclogue; the devil a thing could I make out, but a rhapsody upon rural innocence, and an invitation from a gentleman I did not know, to an entertainment I never saw.

Sir H. The business of the day is a wedding, and Charles Dupeley is invited to see his friend, Sir Harry Groveby, united to the most charming of her

sex.

Dupe. The devil it is! What, a young fellow of your hope and fortune, sacrificed to a marriage of romance! But, pr'ythee, tell me who she is?

Sir H. An orphan ward of the worthy old gentleman, at whose seat you now are: his character is singular, and as amiable in its way as her's. Inheriting a great estate, and liberally educated, his disposition led him early to a country life, where his benevolence and hospitality are boundless: and these qualities, joined with an imagination border

ing upon the whimsical, have given a peculiar turn to the manners of the neighbourhood, that, in my opinion, degrades the polish of courts-but judge of the original.

Enter OLDWORTH.

Mr. Oldworth, I present you my friend; he is just arrived from abroad; I will not repeat how much he is worthy of your friendship.

Old. To be worthy of your's, Sir Harry, is the best recommendation. [To DUPELEY.] Sir, your friend is going to receive from my hands a lovely girl, whose merit he has discerned and loved for its own sake: such nuptials should recall the ideas of a better age he has permitted me to celebrate them upon my own plan, and I shall be happy to receive the judgment of an accomplished critic.

Dupe. Sir, by what I already see of Oldworth's Oaks, and know of the character of the master, I am persuaded the talent most necessary for the company will be that of giving due praise.

Enter HURRY.

=

fair one's feet, and would have mamed me but that Oldworth insisted upon a prác months' absence-It has been a purgat Dupe. I should like to see the woma entangle me in this manner. Shew me man, from an Italian princess, to a figurare French opera; and, at the first glance Is. cover the whole extent of their artifice, fr true lure, and bring them to my hand as ea a tame sparrow.

Sir H. And pray, my sagacions fried what circumstances have you formed var that I am more likely to be imposed up self?

Dupe. Upon every one I have seen ari i but, above all, upon that natural propensitytrue home-bred Englishman, to think one different from another. Now, I hold there as

one woman in the world.

Sir H. I perfectly agree, and Maria is charming one.

Dupe. Ay; but Maria, and Lady Bab, and P

that steals a heart in a country church, and sh
the same creature for all that; I am always
picks your pocket in Covent-garden, are o
quick for them, and make fools of them first. (:
you'll find them as transparent as glass.
do but try them by the principle I have laid down,

Hur. Lord! sir, come down to the building di-mela Andrews, and Clarissa Harlowe, and t rectly; all the trades are together by the ears; it is for all the world like the tower of Babylon; they have drove a broad-wheel waggon over two hampers of wine, and it is all running among lilies and honeysuckles; one of the cooks stumbled over one of the clouds, and threw a ham and chickens into a tub of white-wash; a lamp-lighter spilt a gallon of oil into a creamed apple-tart; and they have sent for more roses, and there is not one left within twenty miles.

Old. Why, honest Hurry, if there is none to be had, you need not be in such haste about them. Mercy on us! my fête has turned this poor fellow's head already; he will certainly get a fever.

Hur. Get a favour, sir! why, there has not been one left these three hours; all the girls in the parish have been scrambling for them, and I must get a hundred yards more. Lord ha' mercy! there is so much to do at once, and nobody to do it, that it is enough to moider one's head. If you loiter longer, sir, they will all be at loggerheads; they were very near it when I came away. [Exit. Old. I forgot to tell you, Sir Harry, that Lady Bab Lardoon is in the neighbourhood, and I expect her every moment.

Dupe. Who is she, pray?

Sir H. Oh! she's a superior! a phoenix! more worthy your curiosity than any object of your travels. She is an epitome, or rather a caricature, of what is called very fine life, and the first female gamester of the time.

Old. For all that, she is amiable: one cannot help discerning and admiring the natural excellence of her heart and understanding, though she is an example that neither is proof against a false education, or a rage for fashionable excesses. But when you see her, she will best explain herself. This fellow will give me no rest.

[blocks in formation]

Sir H. My own principle will answer my perp just as well; with that perspective I have 1 through the woman, and discovered the angel you will do the same when you see her, or r brag of your eye-sight more.

Dupe. Rhapsody and enthusiasm! I sh soon discover Mahomet's seventh heaven. Br says your uncle, old Groveby, to this math and why should I? when I know what must be ad Sir H. 'Faith! I have asked him

answer.

Dupe. Oh! he can never disapprove a pass, a that soars above the stars.

worldly knowledge; the common old grant
Sir H. He has all the prejudices of his wars nễ
character-you may see it in every arama
not, perhaps, with quite so much good haz
the days of Terence to those of Congreve; a sur
so little obstinacy as my uncle shews. He- **
most impetuous when most kind; and I dan tu
his resentment will end with a dramatic

Re-enter HURRY.

Hur. Lord! sir, I am out of breath 1 why, almost everything is ready exp and madam Maria is gone to the grove, dua tan so dressed, and looks so charming!

find out this gentleman's servant, mes
Sir H. Propitious be the hour! Here, H
where he is to dress.

first shew me a little of the preparation. Was
Dupe. Oh! I shall be time enough: Harr
going forward here?
[Approaches the vis

[ocr errors]

Hur. Hold! sir, not that way; my master nobody see his devices and figaries there. Dupe. Why, what is he doing there, Hom Hur. Doing! as you are a gentleman, I you what he is doing-I hope nobody [Looking about.] Why, he is going to mak sun shine at midnight, and he is covering put it out. Lord! such doings! Here, this way, thousand yards of sail-cloth, for fear the rain st* your honour.

、,

« VorigeDoorgaan »