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lome—that is, not very handfome—you are beautiful—don't deferve you——
Fanny. No. Nor any one elfe——
Ellen. You are a bafe, vile deceiver-4—
Peter. I, a deceiver?
Fanny. Yes, a mean, paltry, meddling coxcomb:
Peter. I a coxcomb?
Ellen. Running from houfe to houfe to fteal poor girl's hearts.
Peter. I fteal poor girl's hearts?'
Ellen. And then throw 'em away, as if they were worth nothing.
Peter. This comes of my gentility—Nature denied me face; but gave me figure—that always fetches 'cm—Now for the village—Strange report abroad—muft get particulars—any thing new delights me. Mum's the word—I fay nothingknow every thing --all hate me—can't do without me, tho'.—Old Whitethorn's a rum one—fo am I —Cut with his daughter Ellen—She won't doFanny will—Any thing new—then go to the Parfon —he'll tell the Clerk—he'll tell Chop the Butcher — he'll tell Dough the Baker—he'll tell his wire— fhe's got a tongue—fhe'll tell all the Town.—Rare fun—I'm off—Any Thing New I [Extt.
Fanny. Stupid impertinent blockhead—I declares, I woudn't wed fuch a puppy—if he was the only man on earth—Would you, Ellen?
EUcn. No! If he was the only man.—Yes, I believe I fhould, Fanny—but I could tear his eye« out—for all that.
Fanny. I'll teach you how to manage thefe men, Ellen.—When they look angry, you laugh at 'em— When they look pleafed, you look angry,—Firft fcold 'em—then coax 'em—and fpite of their boafted independence, in a little time, the filly creatures will be as tractable, and crouch at your feet like lap-dogs. Cheer up, Ellen, he'll be courting you again, when he has Nothing New, as he calls it. Then have a little of my fpirit—Say to him— Mum's the word, and I'm off. \Ext.
Ellen. It's very hard, tho', after all nh fine fpeecbes—but the girls ate just as bad. That Fanny Tranfit, now, has ferved poor brother Oliver ten times worfe than Mr, Peter has me; but I fhall get a hufband fome time or other, I fuppole—'tis a long lane that has no turning.
John was wealthy, and poor was Jane;
Fal t lal! la i
It chanc'd John lost his wealth one day,
Fal! lal! la!
Fal! lal! la!
SCENE II.—An Apartment at Mrs. Antidote's
Enter Fanny Transit followed by Oliver.
Fanny. I tell you, it's no ule dangling after me, Oliver.
Oliv. Don't fay that — don't fay that, Fanny.
You know how dearly I love you >
Fanny. No! I don't; the only thing I ever aflced of you, you refufcd—and new I rcfufe you—
Oliv. That you know was impoflible. I could'nt leave my poor father to be a foldier.
Fanny. I know that you leave your poor father to run after me. If you were a foldier you would be getting fomething, as it is, you don't even earn fix-pence a-day.
Oliv. If you were but mine, Fanny, I'd work for you day and night.
Fanny. 'Twas but yefterday, I was told, you neglected your poor father fo long, he is almolt ruined, and abufes me as the innocent caufe of it.
Oliv. It's falfe, Fanny—I never neglected my poor old father. Oh! yes! yes! I have; but if I thought he took it fo to heart. Who told you this?
Fanny. Why—Mr. Peter Babble.
Fanny. Theie—Oh! fhocking' you have learned to fwear too. Do you think I'd wed a man that fwears—zounds Ma'am, do this—and, damn it, do that—no, no!
Oliv. Fanny! Fanny! You irritate me paft endurance, and then pretend to wonder at the anxiety you have caufed. Babble's a fcoundrel—.but rot me if I don't fpoil his fmirking chops before long.
Fanny. There again—jealous and quarrelfome. Oh! this will never do for Matrimony.
Oliv. 1 can bear it no longer! I'll leave her directly, I'm determined. Good bye, Fanny—good
Fanny. You won't leave me in anger, Oliver?
Oliv. No! no— not in anger, Fanny — (returning.) Zounds! this is too bad—no—I'll never think of her again—never fpeak to her again
Fanny. FareweH) Oliver.
Oliv. Farewell, Fanny, dear Fanny. Oh! damn it—Ihe knows her power, and triumphs in her barbarity!
DUET.—Oliver and Fanny.
Oliv. Pray, Ma'am, do nut think I'm worried or vest,
No longer your slave—I defy you
Wben'e'er little Fanny cornea nigh you—
That Oliver e'er would forsake me.
No longer a fool you shall make me.
** Fan. You'll repent all you say, Sir, the moment we part,
M Tho' now in a passion you're storming, *' Oliv. No longer a flirt shall embezzle the heart,
"Another gay lass will be warming. *' Fan. Silly man—'tis in vain ** Oliv. Why she's laughing again,
"Was ever a girl so provoking— *< Fan. Yes—rave as you will, bye and bye you'll be still,
"Bog pardon, and say you were joking.
Olip. So pleasing, so teasing—I soon shall go mad—
Fan. Now what makes its own pretty dear look so sad—
Oliv. I'm resolved—it is done,
None like thee e'er will be so falsehearted,
Both. To my fate I'm resigned, &c.
SCENE III.—Inside of Whitethorn's Cottage.
Enter Whitethorn fallowed by Peter.
White. Pfha! nonlenfe—don't talk to me
Peter. Always glad to oblige—but mufl: talk— fomething's the matter—mult know the particu'ars— in fhort, your daughter Ellen would have made me too happy.
White. She would—
Peter. '\ imes a:e hard—ftarving in a garret very unpleafant—little family—large bills—no money—
can't live upon love—damn'd bad diet
White. Love indeed! Pfha! Folly!
Peter. Cogent reafons 'gainft. matrimony—'Mifs
Tranlit — pretty—and your fon Oliver
White. Oliver!—have you heard of him—do you know where he is?
Peter No!—don't you ?—Blefs my foul!—Here's fomething new with a vengeance—he is very fond of her—no ufe tho'—Hav'nt change for iixpence between 'em.
White. More's the pity—why doefn't he nick to work? why doefn't he help his old father? befides—fhe's a flirt—a jilt—a coquette! —
Peter. Hot as muftard feed—muft cool him—
'twill break his heait, if
White. Hafn't he almoft broke mine—that tall ferjeant with his fcarlet jacket has turn'd the heads of all the girls in the village—
Peter. 'I 'won't do—can't get Any Thing New here—muft lofe no time—call at Fanny Tranfit's— fhe may have heard fomething—make up to her— Two Strings to my Bow —beautiful girl—juft fuit me—tell her all the news- Good bye, Whitethorn—
White. Where can Oliver ftay? I'm fure I faid