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done; but I expect that you observe what I have find it rather cold, ladies !----I wish there was a toid you, and be more prudent for the future. fire in the room, that I might give her a taste of [Erit Cha. Man. my breeding.
Aside. J. Night. And be a prig like you ?-Oh, you Let. The public is much bound to you for givshall sinart for this; I'll curry your fine hide. ing them access to your collection. Now would I give both ears from off this head, J. Night. If the public found no more amuseif I could make the girl but fairly jilt this puppy, ment in them than I do, they might hang in the and revenge myself upon him!
dark till doomsday,
Let. You jest, I believe: is it possible, after Enter DIBBLE.
such pains in procuring them, you can have no
enjoyment in the possession of thein ? Dib. Squire !
J. Night. Even so, madam; they resemble J. Night. Ah, Dibble, I have made myself a matrimony in that respect; the pursuit is the precious block head !
pleasure. But come, ladies, the room is ready, Dib. What, in the penitentials! Is the cham- and I'll shew you the way. What the devil does paigne cloudy?
that old duenna come for?
(Goes out. J. Night. Vexation sobers me like a wet pap- Let. Is this the accomplished Mr Manlove? kin. Oh, if I could see the girl again!
He seems in a strange humour! are you sure he Dib. Do you wish it?
is perfectly sober? I declare I scarce like to folJ. Night. Wish it! I'd crawl to Scotland op low him. my knees; nay, more, I'd live there all my days, J. Night. [Returns.] Ladies, this is the way: so I could bilk this elder brother with Miss indulge ime with the honour of your hand! Fairfax.
[Leuds out LET. (Ereunt. Dib. Say you so, 'squire? This betters my best hopes. Follow me once more to Mr Stapleton's: SCENE IV.-An apartment, magnificently furtake courage, and my life upon't the lady is your
nished with pictures. J. Night. Have with you then; I'm ready; Enter Jack, introducing Mrs STAPLETON and come along.
LETITIA. Dib. Hold ! not so fast—the old lion may be J. Night. There, ladies! there they hang! a in his den. Give me one quarter of an hour's jolly crew of them! Old ladies in furs and farlaw, and then, if we miscarry, crop these ears, belows up to their throats, and young ones with and nail them up like vermin to your walls. out a rag to cover them : these painters are but
J. Night. Agreed ! I take you at your word- scurvy tailors; they'll send a goddess into the [Erit DiB] Now, my fine brother, if I catch world without a cloud to cover her : there are you on the hip. I'll give your pride a fall! I'll some pretty conceits go with their histories, but shew you,
that a clown may have a courtier's cun- they will speak for themselves; I am but liitle in ning. lleyday! who comes here!
Let. What a blaze of beauty! There's the Enter Mrs STAPLETON, amd Letitia, ushered Titian Venus; Heavens ! what a form! what in by FREDERICK.
brilliant hues ! But louk, dear madam, here is
grace and dignity; Guido's Lucretia, the dagger Fred. I beg pardon, sir; I thought you was in her breast, and in the act of heroic self-degone out: these ladies are desirous of seeing the struction : what resolution ! what a spirit has the pictures, and I was conducting them to the room. great artist thrown into those eyes!
J. Night. I will take that honour on myself. J. Night. Yes; she had a devil of a spirit! Go before, and open the windows. [Erit Fred.] she stabbed herself in a pique upon being crossed You are fond of paintings, ladies; I am glad it is in love. in my power to entertain you.
Alrs Stap. You presume on our ignorance; Airs Stap. You are the owner, sir, of this ad- history, I believe, assigns more elevated motives mirable collection. Your name is Manlove. for Lucretia's death.
J. Night. At the service of the ladies always. J. Night. Very likely; there were great pains I'll pass a few of lawyer Dibble's airs upon taken to smother the story; but 'tis as I tell you them---I'm in a rare cue.
[Aside. - I had it from a near relation of the family. Let. What do you mean by talking up this Let. Ridiculous ! Do you observe that picture, young man ! He has a miserable address : I see madam? 'tis a melancholy story, very finely told very little of the man of fashion about him. by Poussin : it is a view of Marseilles at the time
Mrs Stap. I cannot say much for his person, of the plague, with a capital figure of the gooel to be sure.
bishop in the midst of the groupe. J Night. She has fixt her eyes upon me; she J. Night. Bishop, madam! that person which is taken with my person and address--Don't you you look upon is a physician, and the people
round about him are his patients; they are in a same master. Come, madam, it is time for us desperate way, it must be confest. Do you see
to be gone. that angry figure in the corner! he is a gamester: J. Night. You are not for the city end of the he is picking lead out of a loaded dice to run into town, I conclude? buliets, to fire through his own head : 'tis no bad Mrs Stap. Our home is in the city. moral.
J. Night. Permit me to conduct you thither : Let. You are infinitely kind to favour us with I have a coach in waiting, and am bound to New these anecdotes: if you are thus gracious to all Broad-Street, if you know such a place. strangers, the world will edify abundantly. But Mrs Stap. Intimately; but we have a carriage we won't put you to the trouble of explanation of our own. we are not entirely ignorant—though your col- Let. Can there be any attractions in the city lection may be the best we have seen, it is not to engage Mr Manlove's regard ? absolutely the first.
J. Night. Oh, yes; an assignation, madam : I J. Night. Belike, then, you are a painter, as am loth to disappoint a fond girl. well as the lady I visited just now?
Let. 'Tis charitably considered ! Let. In the presence of such masters as are J. Night. Nay, I don't know but I should be here assembled, I cannot call myself a painter; inclined to take her for better for worse, if it in my own chamber I sometimes persuade my- was not for one circumstance in her disfavour. self I am.
Let. May I ask what that may be? J. Night. Yes; I am told it is an art which J. Night. She has a devilish itch for painting : ladies mostly practise in their own chambers- I should expect to have all my gods and goddesWhat say you to that picture over the door? 'tis ses taken down to make room for her vulgar a merry conceit.
friends and relations. Let. It is the colouring of the Venetian school: Mrs Stap. Ay; that would be a sorrowful exI should guess it to be Tintoret.
change to my knowledge. J. Night. Oh, you are quite out of the story. Let. Yes; have a care of that same painting
Mrs Stap. She is speaking of the master: ihe girl; my life upon it she will slip through your story is plainly that of Actæon, and no bad mo- hands. rad; he was turned into a stag, by the goddess of J. Night. Why, I have my eye upon that hochastity, for his impertinent curiosity.
nest gentleman in the picture, with the stag's J. Night. Excuse me, madam; you mistake horns, I must own- - Who shall I tell her gave me the moral—That gentleman, with the antlers on the caution? his head, is a city husband, the principal lady in Let. No matter; when you see Miss Fairfax, the show is his wife; she wears a crescent on her you'll remember me. forehead, to signify she is a dealer in horns; her J. Night. Fairfax! the vengeance ! how camo companions are a group of city madams: the you to guess her name? painter drew them bathing, to shew the warmth Let. Oh, sir, there is but one painter in the of their constitutiuns.
street, and she, I believe, will remain there: Let. Upon my word, you have a great deal of your collection is safe; she will trouble you with wit, and you have a tine collection of paintings ! none of her performances, none of her daubings, but one capital piece is wanting.
take my word. Your most obedient--Let us J. Night. And what is that, pray?
make haste home, and be ready to receive him : Let. Modesty: it will be an excellent compa- vain, senseless coxcomb! how I shall enjoy bis nion to your Lucretia.
[Erit with Mrs Stap. J. Night. But who shall I get to sit for the J. Night. A good lively wench, but the devil likeness?
of a tongue ! I'll run and hand her to her coach. Let. You will find it admirably painted by the
SCENE I.--An apartment.
Lucy. I doubt it, but no matter : sure it is time that he was come. Hark! who is that?
look out. Enter DIBBLE and Lucy.
Dib. 'Sdeath! Mrs Stapleton and Miss LeLucy. STILL I protest against your project; titia ! we shall reap nothing from it, but shame and dis- Lucy. What's to be done now? appointment; however, to convince you that my Dib. We've nothing for it, but a desperate fears are not for myself, I am prepared, and sally; slip the back-way down with me, and let shali go through with it as you desire.
us both go out and stop young Nightshade: we Dib. My life upon it, he takes the bait this can take him to my lodgings, and prevent an intime.
terview that must be fatal.
Lucy. It is too late to deliberate : come on. him a chance, however.—Have you any como
[Exeunt. mands for me, sir?
J. Night. Commands! Oh, none in life, I Enter Mrs STAPLETON and LETITIA.
thank you; no commands. What, won't that Mrs Stap. Come, my dear Letitia, you think serve? No; She will have her talk out, at least. of this affair too seriously : you cannot much re- I hope you liked the pictures? Sure, Miss Fairgret a man you never saw before.
fax will come presently. Let. 'Tis true; and yet, with shame I own it Let. I admire your collection greatly; my exto you, I am mortified severely. Was there ever pectations, in that particular, were not disapsuch a disappointment?
pointed. Mrs Stap. Either he treated us with inexcusa- J. Night. I understand your insinuation, mable contempt, or is profoundly ignorant. Did dam; but ladies' expectations, I am told, are you remark the ridiculous observations he made not always to be satisfied, on some of the pictures ?
Let. In Mr Manlove's instance, perhaps, not Let. Yes; but I set that down for mistaken wit; easily. in short, his manners are of the vulgarest cast. J. Night. Really, madam, I should wish to do Are these the fruits of public education? Is this justice to a lady's good opinion : but your visit, the finished gentleman the scholar? traveller? I must say, was rather unseasonable, and that --His boorish brother in the country cannot out- elderly lady was so vexatiously in the waygo this : and the world to be so blinded ! Often- Let. I am sorry for it, sir: I am afraid our times it speaks worse of a man than he deserves ; visit was rather out of rule. it is seldom guilty of telling so many untruths in J. Night. That's honest now; and since you his favour.
own it, I must fairly say, the present is none of
the most welcome. Enter Servant.
Let. I readily believe it—and therefore, sir, Ser. A gentleman desires to speak with Miss though it is not altogether in character for me to Fairfax.
promote a conversation of such a sort as you Let. 'Tis he !-Conduct him into the drawing-hinted at when we met at your own bouse; yet, room; I'll wait on him immediately. [Exit Ser. I must observe to you, if you have any such pro
Mrs Stap. Well, Letitia, I need not recom- posal in design, it will be for both our ease that mend to you to treat him as he deserves. you should come to the point directly.
Let. I'must be more or less than woman, if J. Night. To the point, madam! Upon my I spared him.
[Exeunt severally. soul, I don't know what to say to that-To be
sure, I did come here with a full and fixed deEnter Jack NIGHTSHADE, introduced by a Ser sign of offering myself to Miss Fairfax upon the vant.
marrying lay, and that, you know, at best, is but Ser. Please to walk in here, sir; Miss Fairfax a hanging kind of job; so that, if I appear rather will wait on you immediately.
[Erit. dull of apprehension, I hope you will recollect J. Night. Ay, ay; I dare say she will: Egad, that a man cannot be very merry when he's on there's no time to be lost-Drown it, where's his road to his execution. Dibble? I expected he would meet me at the Let. Oh, sir, be under no concern on that gate: If I should stumble on old Crusty—I don't account; assure yourself, I have, to the full, as like the looks of the land so well as I did: Here's little disposition towards that state as you can such a solitude, and such a ceremony-Why the bave. plague do they make me kick my heels here? J. Night. Well said again! but it won't take.What, the vengeance ! is she come again? You are in the right; you are for enjoying your
freedom. Enter LETITIA.
Let. Since we are both agreed in that respect, Let. Your humble servant, Mr Manlove: You what occasion is there for more words? I believe scarce expected, I believe, to meet your visitor we may break up the conference. again so soon?
J. Night. As soon as ever you please; I am J. Night. No, indeed: it is vastly beyond my by no means for delaying you. hopes.
Let. I wait your motions, Mr Manlove; I'm Let. You arc punctual to your assignation, I here at home. perceive?
J. Night. You cannot be more so than I am. J. Night. Oh
: to be sure, madam Let. Indeed ! this conduct, Mr Manlove, is so ---How the plague shall I get rid of her? opposite to all that I expected from you, that I'm
Let. You did well to consider the poor, fond cast into astonishment. Upon what reasons, or girl, that is dying for you.
from what caprice, you've chose to take it up, I J. Night. She has ihe devil of an assurance- know not; natural it cannot be to any man. HowWhat are these London ladies made of?
ever, sir, I'll take you at your word, and, for a Let. He is thoroughly confounded! I'll give moment, will suppose you more welcome in this house than you really are, and leave you in possession of it.
| Erit LET. Enter MR ANDREW NIGHTSHADE. J. Night. Come, come, well off; I've bolted her at last. 'Fore George, I begin to be tired A. Night. Why, Gregory, rascal, hangdog! of my plumes : Every man's best in his own coat what's become of you? run quickly down, and and his own character: Plain Jack, and the coun- drive those bawling fellows from the gate. try, would have suited me better: There are so Gre. A herd of wolves as soon; they'll eat me many demands upon a fine gentleman, that no- up alive. O lack-a-day, sir ! you know little of a body but a fine gentleman can tell how to avoid London mob. them.
A. Night. Go down, I tell you, sirrah, and
disperse them. Enter GREGORY.
Gre. Why, sir, 'tis more than my lord mayor Gre. Ah! Master Jacky, keep close. Yon- can do : There's a man knocked o' the head they der's your old dad at the street door in a notable say; and, till there's another or two to keep him priinmuniry.
company, they'll never be at rest—Leave them J. Night. Death and the devil ! how shall I to fight it out. break pasture without his seeing me?
A. Night. Leave them ! why, blockhead, it is Gre. Never fear it; he has a job upon his me they follow : Nothing else should have drihands will lether him for one while. Egad, I ven me into this house again. hope they'll treat him with a ducking.
Gre. O, Gemini, have you been knocked o' J. Night. What is the matter?
the head? Gre. Nay, nothing out of course ; he has A. Night. Why no, you fool; 'tis I have done cracked the newsinan's noddle for winding his the mischief; but the most patient man alive horn in his ear; he pretends to have delicate could not do less. nerves, you know; and so the fellow raised a Gre. Nay, sir, if you have been playing the mob upon him, that has drove bin into cover, same tune upon their noddles, as you do upon and they are now baying the old buck at the door. mine, these London skulls won't bear it; they Ay, yonder he is; you must keep close till he's are as brittle as a Shrewsbury cake. off his stand. J. Night. Have an eye upon the door-I hope
Enter STAPLETON. they will scare hirn soundly; it may save your skull, and mine, many a hard pelt. But, Gre- Stap. Hey-day, friend Andrew! what is all gory, who is this fine madam I've been talking this noise and outcry? to! Lawyer Dibble, sure, has not put me on a A. Night. I think the devil's in the people ! wrong scent: They introduced her to me as Miss You shall hear-As I was coming down the Fairfax ; are there two Miss Fairfaxes, as well street, in medication on the parson's pigeonas two Mr Manlove's?-a false one, and a true house, a rascally scaramouch, in a short jerkin, one?
with a cap and feather on his noddle, winds me Gre. What shall I say now ? -Oh, yes, there a damned blast on his horn, point blank into my are two ladies of that name; but, this is only a ear, flourishing his newspapers full in my face at cousin of the other; a kind of hanger-on in the the same time: Now, as there are no two things family.
on earth I hate like newspapers and noises; so, J. Night. A hanger-on, do you say?-Keep I could not well avoid giving him a gentle reyour eye upon the door-Why, she's better membrance, with my cane, upon his crown: The dressed, and a finer woman than her l'm in pur- casket gave a cursed crack, and down tumbled suit of.
the politician: Instantly the raggamuffians colGre. Ay, ay; but your's has the fortune; lected, and I took refuge here in your courtDibble's Miss Fairfax iš the girl for your pur- yard. pose.
Stap. Nay, if you have silenced the Morning J. Night. But where is Dibble and his Miss Post, you had better have dragged the speaker Fairfax? I have danced attendance here a pretty out of his coach, and beat his brains out with while; what am I to think of all this?
Do you consider how many enemies Gre. What are you to think of it? why, I'll you make by stopping the circulation of abuse ? tell you ; this young lady, d’ye see-Now, don't 'tis as necessary to the city as the circulation of you go about, Master Jacky, and say that I told cash. you, but this young lady here, that you have been A. Night. Go down, I tell you, fellow, and to, is-Hark, sure your father's coming. make up the matter with a dram; 'tis as much
J. Night. I hear his foot upon the stairs; my as any newspaper head is worth in the kingdom; bones ach at the sound of it.
bid him not talk of damages; if my cane has Gre. Quick, quick! down the back stairs; split his skull, 'tis no more than his plaguy postand away for your life! so, so; that's well! horn did by mine. He was the aggressor.
(Erit J. Nigut. Stap. Hark'e, you'll find the matter settled,
but it will not be amiss to frighten him a little this head of mine in open court, you would be You know how to manage it?
condemned on the face of it.
(Aside to GrecoRY. A. Night. Hold your tongue, rascal; I don't Gre. Most daintily, I warrant you.
believe a word you say: I'll go down and be sa[Exit Greg. tisfied with my own eyes.
Stap. Hold, hold, friend Andrew; I'll not sufEnter Mrs STAPLETON and LETITIA.
fer it; they'll tear you piecemeal : stay where Let. O, Mr Nightshade, here's a piece of you are, and let me see if I can't quiet them; work! this comes of being in a passion.
they know me, and will credit what I tell them. Mrs Stap. A sober citizens, a pains-taking in- If it is as Gregory says, I'll send him to the hosdustrious soul
pital; we'll save bim, if it's possible. Let. A father of a family-eight helpless A. Night. Thank you, Master Stapleton; thank babes--I fear you have given him his last blow. you heartily. That's friendly howsoever. Dear sir, assist us! [Aside.
[Exit STAP. A. Night. Last blow! what matters that, when Let. [To Mrs Stap.] Dear madan, follow Mr he gave me the first !
Stappleton, and persuade him not to let him off; Mrs Stap. Well, well
, Heaven knows; but he must be made to feel. anger is a frightful thing; it turns a man into a Mrs Stup. I think he should, and will leare fury. Defend me, I say, from a passionate him in your hands.
(Exit. man !
Let. Ah, Mr Nightshade, will you never be A. Night. And yet, madam, give me leave to brought off from this unhappy temper? You see tell you, you are enough to make one : Is it no- the dismal effects of it: you feel them; I perthing to have our nerves lacerated, our whole ceive you do. Your compunctiou is severe; I fabrick shook to atoms, by these horrid noises ! pity you—your situation brings the tears into my The law should provide against such nuisances. eyes.
Stap. The law regards breaking of heads as A. Night. It's more than it does into mine; I the greater nuisance of the two–But here comes tell you it is all a collusion to extort money; and Gregory-Well
, what has become of the post- this rogue of mine falls in with the plot. Staman?
pleton will tell another story.
Let. I am afraid not; prepare yourself for Enter GREGORY.
the worst, and consider what atonement you can Gre. He has sounded his last horn! You may make to a disconsolate widow. sleep in quiet for the future. I tendered him A. Night. Spare your pity, young madam; the dram your honour was so good to offer; but you don't yet know how easy most widows are his teeth are closed, he cannot accept your favour to be comforted.
Mrs Stap. O horrible, you've killed the man ! Gre. To be sure, madam, his honour is in the
Stap. What say the standers by on the occa- right to bear up, as they say, but it will be a trecasion ?
pau at least. The china-riveter at the next door is Gre. They give him an extraordinary charac- a knowing man in fractures, and he says his skull ter; they say he delivered a hand-bill, and will never ring well again so long as it is a skull. sounded a post horn, better than any man in all Oh, sir, what will poor, dear Master Jacky think the bills of mortality.
of this? He's in the country, lord love him, and Let. Thanks to Nir Niglitshade, he is likely to little dreams of this mishap; I fear 'twill break make a figure in the bills of mortality still — his heart. did you see the wound ?
A. Night. Hold your tongue, you blockhead! Gre. A perilous gash! I would not have such a Well, Mr Stapleton, you've seen the man? star in my forehead to be the richest alderman in the city of London.
Re-enter STAPLETON. A. Night. 'Tis a pity but he had been one, Stap. I have seen the man, and pacified the for, then, his horns might have warded off the mob. blow.
A. Night. That's well; and it proves a false Gre. If I was your honour, I would be look- alarm? ing out for the crowner; it will be well done to Stap. I wish I could say so- -but we must touch him pretty handsomely before he calls a hope the best. quest upon the body.
A. Night. How! what! sure he is not in Stup: Has the gentleman thought of any wit-danger? This fellow's report I did not regard; nesses ?
your's alarms me. Gre. You must have a steady set to prevent Stap. Compose yourself, however; the sympaccidents, unprejudiced, impartial men, that were toms, indeed, are unpromising, but I have put · not present at the affair; these people will never him into good hands; he is conveyed to the
do." For my part, if you think of subpanæing London Hospital. Be a man; I am sorry to set me, you are a lost man; if I was once to shew you so uncasy.