what you Mer. Pr'ythee read this letter, and tell me| Fair. My lord, I am very well content; think of it. pray do not give yourself the trouble of sayTheo. Heavens, 'tis a letter from lord Aim-ing any more. worth! We are betrayed. Ralph. No, my lord, you need not say any more. Fair. Hold your tongue, sirrab. Lord A. I am sorry, Patty, you have had this mortification. Mer. By what means I know not. Theo. I am so frighted and flurried, that I have scarce strength enough to read it. [Reads. Sir,It is with the greatest concern I find that I have been unhappily the occa- Pat. I am sorry, my lord, you have been sion of giving some uneasiness to you and troubled about it. miss Sycamore: be assur'd, had I been ap- Fair. Well, come, children, we will not prised of your prior pretensions, and the take up his honour's time any longer; let us young lady's disposition in your favour, I be going towards home-Heaven prosper your should have been the last person to inter- lordship; the prayers of me and my family rupt your felicity. I beg, sig, you will do shall always attend you. me the favour to come up to my house, Lord A. Miller, come back-Patty, staywhere I have already so far settled mat- Fair. Has your lordship any thing further ters, as to be able to assure you, that every to command us? thing will go entirely to your satisfaction. Lord A. Why yes, master Fairfield, I have Mer. Well, what do you think of it?a word or two still to say to you-In short, Shall we go to the castle? though you are satisfied in this affair, I am Theo. By all means: and in this very trim; not; and you seem to forget the promise I to show what we are capable of doing, if my made you, that, since I had been the means father and mother had not come to reason. of losing your daughter one husband, I would [Exeunt Mervin and Theodosia. find her another. Giles. So, there goes a couple! Icod, I be- Fair. Your honour is to do as you please. lieve old Nick has got among the people in Lord A. What say you, Patty, will you these parts. This is as queer a thing as ever accept of a husband of my choosing? I heard of.-Master Fairfield and miss Patty, Pat. My lord, I have no determination; it seems, are gone to the castle too; where, you are the best judge how I ought to act; by what I larus from Ralph in the mill, my whatever you command, I shall obey. lord has promised to get her a husband among Lord A. Then, Patty, there is but one perthe servants. Now set in case the wind sets son I can offer you and I wish, for your in that corner, I have been thinking with my-sake, he was more deserving-Take meself who the plague it can be: there are no Pat. Sir! unmarried men in the family, that I do know Lord A. From this moment our interests of, excepting little Bob, the postillion, and are one, as our hearts; and no earthly power master Jonathan, the butler, and he's a mat- shall ever divide us. ter of sixty or seventy years old. I'll be shot Fair. O the gracious! Patty-my lordif it beant little Bob.-Icod, I'll take the way Did I hear right?-You, sir, you marry a to the castle as well as the rest; for I'd fain child of mine! see how the nail do drive. It is well I had Lord A. Yes, my honest old man, in me wit enough to discern things, and a friend to you behold the husband designed for your advise with, or else she would have fallen to daughter; and I am happy, that by standing my lot. But I have got a surfeit of going a in the place of fortune, who has alone been courting; and burn me if I won't live a ba- wanting to her, I shall he able to set her chelor; for when all comes to all, I see no- merit in a light where its lustre will be renthing but ill blood and quarrels among folk dered conspicuous. that are maaried. AIR. Then hey for a frolicsome life! I'll ramble where pleasures are rife; Plague on it, men are but asses, Twould have prov'd a fine affair: Fair. But good, noble sir, pray consider, don't go to put upon1) a silly old man: my daughter is unworthy-Patty, child, why don't you speak? Pat. What can I say, father? what an swer to such unlook'd-for, such unmerited, such unbounded generosity? Ralph. Down on your knees, and fall a crying. [Ralph is checked by Fairfield, and they go up the Stage. Pat. Yes, sir, as my father says, consider [Exit.—your noble friends, your relations-It must not, cannot be SCENE IV.A grand Apartment in LORD AIMWORTH'S House, opening to a View of the Garden. Enter LORD AIMWORTH, FAIRFIELD, PATTY, and RALPH. Lord A. Thus, master Fairfield, I hope I have fully satisfied you with regard to the falsity of the imputation thrown upon your daughter and me Lord A. It must and shall-Friends! relalions! from henceforth I have none, that will not acknowledge you; and I am sure, when they become acquainted with your perfections, they will rather admire the justice of my choice, than wonder at its singularity. DUETT.-LORD AIMWORTH and PATTY. Pat. Lord A. Both. Enter GILES. In thee each grace possessing One to my soul so dear; Enter SIR HARRY, LADY SYCAMORE, THEO- Giles. Ods bobs, where am I running-I beg pardon for my audacity. Ralph. Hip, farmer; come back, mon, come back-Sure my lord's going to marry sister himself, feyther's to have a fine house, and I'm to be a captain. Lord A. Ho, master Giles, pray walk in; here is a lady who, I dare say, will be glad to see you, and give orders that you shall always be made welcome, Ralph. Yes, farmer, you'll always be welcome in the kitchen. Lord A. What, have you nothing to say Sir H. Well, we have followed your lord- to your old acquaintance-Come, pray let the ship's counsel, and made the best of a bad farmer salute you-Nay, a kiss-Î insist upmarket-So, my lord, please to know our son-in-law that is to be. Lord A. You do me a great deal of honour -I wish you joy, sir, with all my heart.-And now, sir Harry, give me leave to introduce to you a new relation of mine-This, sir, is shortly to be my wife. Sir H. My lord! Lady S. Your lordship's wife! Lady S. And why so, my lord? Lord A. Why, faith, ma'am, because I can't live happy without her-And I think she has too many amiable, too many estimable qualities to meet with a worse fate. Sir H. Well, but you are a peer of the realm; you will have all the fleerers on it. Sir H. Ha, ha, ha-hem! Lady S. Sir Harry, I am ready to sink st the monstrousness of your behaviour. Lord A. Fie, master Giles, don't look so sheepish; you and I were rivals, but not less friends at present. You have acted in this affair like an honest Englishman, wo scorned even the shadow of dishonour, and thou shalt sit rent-free for a twelvemonth. Sir H. Come, shan't we all salute-With your leave, my lord, I'llLady S. Sir Harry! Lord A. Lord A. I know very well the ridicule that may be thrown on a lord's marrying a miller's daughter; and I own with blushes it has for some time had too great weight with me: but we should marry to please ourselves, not other people; and, on mature consideration, Theo. I can see no reproach justly merited by raising a deserving woman to a station she is capable of adorning, let her birth be what it will. Sir H. Why 'tis very true, my lord. I once knew a gentleman that married his cook-maid: he was a relation of my own-You remember fat Margery, my lady. She was a very good Sir H. sort of woman, indeed she was, and made the best suet dumplings I ever tasted. Lady S. Will you never learn, sir Harry, to guard your expressions? Well, but give me leave, my lord, to say a word to you.There are other ill consequences attending such an alliance. Lord A. One of them I suppose is, that I, a peer, should be obliged to call this good old miller father-in-law. But where's the shame in that? He is as good as any lord in being a man; and if we dare suppose a lord that is not an honest man, he is, in my opinion, the more respectable character. Come, master Fairfield, give me your hand; from henceforth you have done with working: we will pull down your mill, and build you a house in the place of it; and the money I intended for the portion of your daughter, shall now be laid out in purchasing a commission for your son. Ralph. What, my lord, will you make me a captain? Lord A. Ay, a colonel, if you deserve it. Pat. FINALE. Yield who will to forms a martyr, Heedless of the millions' blame. Have a right from man to claim. So long storms and tempests raging, Though I scarce know what to say. Ralph. Captain Ralph my lord will dub me, 'Gad, I'll be a roaring blade, And expos'd for folks to see't, Since the fates have thought them meet; GEORGE COLMAN JUNIOR Is the son of the author of The Clandestine Marriage. With the precise time of his birth we are unacquainted; but we suppose it to have been about the year 1767. He received his early education at Mr. Fountain's academy in Marybone, at that time in high estimation. He was next sent to Westminster School, and afterwards entered at Christchurh College, Oxford; but, for what reason we know not, he finished his education at King's College, Old Aberdeen ; whence he returned to London, and was entered of the Temple; with the design, it is said, to qualify him for the bar. But if so, he early in life resigned Coke and Littleton in favour of the Muses. The consciousness of literary talents, and an easy access to the public through the medium of his father's theatre, naturally directed his attention to the drama; and his parent seemed to foster his genius; as he, in the prologue to the first play of his son's, announced him as "a chip of the old block." When his father was seized with that malady which rendered him incapable of superintending the theatre, Mr. Colman evinced a most commendable filial affection, by the great attention that he paid to him and to the interests of his theatre. On the death of his father, His Majesty was pleased to transfer the patent to him; and he has discharged the duties of manager with zeal and alacrity towards the public, and liberality towards authors and actors. In private life Mr. Colman is social, convivial, and intelligent; and in the playful contentions of wit and humour, and particularly that agreeable coruscation called repartee, he may perhaps be equalled, but, we think, has rarely been excelled. In his heroic pieces, we observe a poetical vigour, a form of language, and a cast of sentiment, that forcibly remind us of the very best of our ancient dramatic writers. In the spring of the year 1797, Mr. Colman published My Nightgown and Slippers, a thin quarto, consisting of some amusing poetical trifles. In prologue and epilogue, we cannot better compare Mr. Colman with any one than with the late Mr. Garrick. His compositions in this way are very abundant, and excellent in their kind. INKLE AND YARICO, Opera by George Colman jun. 1787. The great success of this Opera in every theatre in the Kingdom, since its first representation at the Haymarket, is justified by its real merit. The dialogue is not a collection of trite common places, to connect the music; but is replete with taste, judgment, and manly feeling; the allusions to slavery (now so nobly abolished) correspond with every British, every liberal, mind. The mal-à-propos offer of Inkle to sell his Yarico to Sir Christopher, is an admirable incident; and indeed all the characters are as forcibly drawn, that the most trifling part is effective. The pathetic story of Inkle and Yarico first attracted sympathy, from the narrative of Mr. Addison, in the Spectator: to that affecting story, Mr. Colman was indebted only for the cold, calculating lnkle; and the gentle, affectionate Yarico;-the rest of the characters and the developement of the whole are offspring of his abundant invention. SCENE. First, on the Main of America: afterwards, in Barbadoes. ACT I. SCENE I.-An American forest. Med. [Without] HILLI ho! ho! to bring all the natives about us; and we shall be stripped and plundered in a minute. Trudge. Aye; stripping is the first thing that would happen to us; for they seen to be Trudge. [Without] Hip! hollo! ho!-Hip!-woefully off for a wardrobe. I'myself saw Enter MEDIUM and TRudge. three, at a distance, with less clothes than I have when I get out of bed: all dancing about Med, Pshaw! it's only wasting time and in black buff; just like Adam in mourning. breath. Bawling won't persuade him to budge Med. This is to have to do with a schemer! a bit faster. Things are all altered now; and, a fellow who risques his life, for a chance of whatever weight may have in some places, advancing his interest.-Always advantage in bawling, it seems, don't go for argument, here. view! trying, here, to make discoveries that Plague on't! we are now in the wilds of may promote his profit in England. Another America. Botany Bay scheme, mayhap. Nothing else Trudge. Hip, hillio-ho-hi!could induce him to quit our foraging party, Med. Hold your tongue, you blockhead, or- from the ship; when he knows every inhabiTrudge. Lord! sir, if my master makes no tant here is not only as black as a peppermore haste, we shall all be put to sword by corn, but as hot into the bargain-and I, like the knives of the natives. I'm told they take a fool, to follow him! and then to let him off heads like hats, and hang 'em on pegs in loiter behind. Why, nephew! why, Inkle! their parlours. Mercy on us! my head aches with the very thoughts of it. Holo! Mr. Inkle! master; holo! Med. Head aches! zounds, so does mine with your confounded bawling. It's enough Calling Trudge. Why, Inkle-Well! only to see the difference of men! he'd have thought it very hard, now, if I had let him call so often after me. Ah! I wish he was calling after me now, in the old jog-trot way, again. expensive plan for a trader, truly. What, What a fool was I, to leave London for would you have a man of business come foreign parts! That ever I should leave Thread-abroad, scamper extravagantly here and there needle-street, to thread an American forest, and every where, then return home, and have where a man's as soon lost as a needle in a nothing to tell, but that he has been here and bottle of hay! there and every where? 'sdeath, sir, would Med. Patience, Trudge! patience! If we you have me travel like a lord? Travelling, once recover the shipuncle, was always intended for improvement; Trudge. Lord, sir, I shall never recover and improvement is an advantage; and adź what I have lost in coming abroad. When vantage is profit, and profit is gain. Which, my master and I were in London, I had such in the travelling translation of a trader, means, a mortal snug birth of it! why, I was factotum. that you should gain every advantage of imMed. Factotum to a young merchant is no proving your profit. I have been comparing such sinecure, neither. the land, here, with that of our own country. Trudge. But then the honour of it. Think Med. And you find it like a good deal of of that, sir; to be clerk as well as own man. the land of our own country-cursedly enOnly consider. You find very few city clerks cumbered with black legs 1), I take it. made out of a man 1), now-a-days. To be Inkle. And calculating how much it might king of the counting-house, as well as lord be made to produce by the acre. of the bed-chamber. Ah! if I had him but now in the little dressing room behind the office; tying his hair, with a bit of red tape, as usual. Inkle. So, Mr. Medium. Med. Zounds, one would think, by your confounded composure, that you were walking in St. James's Park, instead of an American "Med. You were? Inkle. ; I was proceeding algebraically upon the subject. Med. Indeed! Inkle. And just about extracting the square root. Med. Hum! Inkle. I was thinking too, if so many natives could be caught, how much they might fetch at the West Indian markets. Med. Now let me ask you a question, or two, young cannibal catcher, if you please. Inkle. Well. Med. Aren't we bound for Barbadoes; partly to trade, but chiefly to carry home the daughter of the governor, Sir Christopher Curry, who has till now been under your father's care, in Threadneedle-street, for polite English education? Inkle. Granted. Med. And isn't it determined, between the Forest; and that all the beasts were nothing old folks, that you are to marry Narcissa as but good company. The hollow trees, here, soon as we get there? centry boxes, and the lions in 'em soldiers; Inkle. A fixed thing. Inkle. Reflection. the jackalls, courtiers; the crocodiles, fine Med. Then what the devil do you do here, women; and the baboons, beaus. What the hunting old hairy negroes, when you ought plague made you loiter so long? to be ogling a fine girl in the ship? Algebra, too! you'll have other things to think of when Med. So I should think; reflection generally you are married, I promise you. A plodding comes lagging behind. What, scheming, 1 fellow's head, in the hands of a young wife, suppose; never quiet. At it again, eh: what like a boy's slate after school, soon gets all a happy trader is your father, to have so pru- its arithmetic wiped off: and then it appears dent a son for a partner! why, you are the in its true simple state; dark, empty, and carefullest Co. in the whole city. Never losing bound in wood, Master Inkle. sight of the main chance; and that's the rea- Inkle. Not in a match of this kind. Why, son, perhaps, you lost sight of us, here, on it's a table of interest from beginning to end, the main of America. old Medium. Inkle. Right, Mr. Medium. Arithmetic, I Med. Well, well, this is no time to talk. own, has been the means of our parting at Who knows but, instead of sailing to a wedpresent. ding, we may get cut up, here, for a wedding Trudge. Ha! a sum in division, I reckon. dinner: tossed up for a dingy duke perhaps, [Aside. or stewed down for a black baronet, or eat Med. And pray, if I may be so bold, what raw by an inky commoner? mighty scheme has just tempted you to employ your head, when you ought to make use of your heels? Inkle. Why, sure, you aren't afraid? Med. Who, I afraid! ha! ha! ha! no, not I! what the deuce should I be afraid of? thank Inkle. My heels! here's pretty doctrine! do heaven, I have a clear conscience, and need you think I travel merely for motion? a fine not be afraid of any thing. A scoundrel might 1) Double entendre. The second meaning, generally given not be quite so easy on such an occasion; by the actor with an arch look at the upper-boxes, but it's the part of an honest man not to bethe place of resort of the London clerks at the The-have like a scoundrel: I never behaved like a atres, is, that there are very few clerks really men now-a-days, they being rather dandyish and effemi- 1) Black legs, (slang) for Gamesters; and the blacks, or negroes, have, of course, black legs. nate in their dress. scoundrel-for which reason I am an honest | And the Eagle, I warrant you, looks like a man, you know. But come-I hate to boast of my good qualities. goose. But we merchant lads, tho' the foe we can't maul, Inkle. Slow and sure, my good, virtuous, Mr. Medium! our companions can be but half a mile before us: and, if we do but double Nor are paid, like fine king-ships, to fight at' their steps, we shall overtake 'em at one mile's Why we pay ourselves well, without fighting end, by all the powers of arithmetic. Med. Oh, curse your arithmetic! how are we to find our way? a call, at all. 1st Sail. Avast! look a-head there. Here Inkle. That, uncle, must be left to the doc-they come, chased by a fleet of black devils. trine of chances. [Exeunt. Midsh. And the devil a fire have I to give 'em. We han't a grain of powder left. What must we do, lad? SCENE II.-Another part of the Forest. A distance. Enter SAILORS and MATE, as returning from spike! and a foraging. All. Come, bear a hand, Master MarlinMidsh. [Reluctantly] Well, if I must, Mate. Come, come, bear a hand 1), my must [Going to the other side and halloing lads. Tho'f the bay is just under our bow-to Inkle, etc.] Yoho, lubbers! crowd all the sprits, it will take a damned deal of tripping sail you can, d'ye mind me! [Exit. to come at it-there's hardly any steering clear of the rocks here. But do we muster all Enter MEDIUM, running, as pursued by hands? all right, think ye? the Blacks. 1st Sail. All to a man - besides yourself, Med. Nephew! Trudge! run - scamper! monkey-the three land lubbers 2), that scour-fly! zounds, what harm did I ever do, edged away in the morning, goes for nothing, to be hunted to death by a pack of bloodyou know they're all dead may-hap, by this. hounds? why, nephew! Oh, confound your Mate. Dead! you be-why, they're friends long sums in arithmetic! I'll take care of my of the captain; and, if not brought safe aboard self; and if we must have any arithmetic, dot to-night, you may all chance to have a salt and carry one for my money. [Runs off. eel for your supper-that's all. — Moreover, the young plodding spark, he with the grave, foul-weather face, there, is to man the tight little frigate, Miss Narcissa, what d'ye call her, pen, ink, and powder, for this! that is bound with us for Barbadoes. Rot'em for not keeping under way, I say! but come, let's see if a song will bring 'em to. Let's have a full chorus to the good merchant ship, the Achilles, that's wrote by our Captain. The Achilles, though christen'd, good ship, 'tis surmis'd, From that old man of war, great Achilles, so Was he, like our vessel, pray, fairly baptiz'd? Poels sung that Achilles-if, now, they've an itch Enter INKLE and TRUDGE, hastily. Trudge. Oh! that ever I was born, to leave Inkle. Trudge, how far are the sailors before us? Trudge. I'll run and see, sir, directly. Inkle. Blockhead, come here. The savages are close upon us; we shall scarce be able to trees with me; they'll pass us, and we may recover our party. Get behind this tuft of then recover our ship with safety. Trudge. [Going behind Oh! ThreadneedleInkle Peace. street, Thread! Trudge. [Hiding] needle-street. [They hide behind trees. Natives cross. After a long pause, Inkle looks from the trees. Inkle. Trudge. Trudge. Sir. [In a whisper. Inkie. Are they all gone by? Trudge. Won't you look and see? Inkle. [Looking round] So, all's safe at last. [Coming forward] Nothing like policy in these cases; but you'd have run on, like a booby! A tree, I faucy, you'll find, in future, the best resource in a hot pursuit. Trudge. Oh, charming! It's a retreat for a king 1), sir. Mr. Medium, however, has not got up in it; your uncle, sir, has run on like this time, I take it; who are now most likely a booby; and has got up with our party by at the shore. But what are we to do next, sir? Inkle. Reconnoitre a little, and then proceed. Trudge. Then pray, sir, proceed to reconnoitre; for, the sooner the better. Inkle. Then look out, d'ye hear, and tell me if you discover any danger. Trudge. Y-ye-s-yes; but-[Trembling." 1) Charles 2d. hid himself in a tree. |
