Enter DON LOPEZ. Lop. I am glad to find you at home, Don Pedro; I was told that you was seen upon the road to-this afternoon. Ped. That might be, my lord; but I had the misfortune to break the wheel of my chariot, which obliged me to return.-What is your pleasure with me, my lord? Lop. I am informed my daughter is in your house. Ped. That's more than I know, my lord; but here was your son just now, as drunk as an emperor. Lop. My son drunk! I never saw him in drink in my life. Where is he, pray, Sir? Ped. Gone to be married. Lop. Married! To whom? I don't know that he courted any body. Ped. Nay, I know nothing of that-but I'm sure he showed me the contract.-Within there! Enter a SERVANT. Enter DON PEDRO. Ped. How now? what makes you knock so loud? Gibby. Gin this be Don Pedro's house, Sir, I wa'd speak wi' Donna Violante, his daughter. Ped. Ha! what is it you want with my daughter, pray? Gibby. An' she be your daughter, an' lik' your honour, command her to come out, and answer for hersel' now, and either justify or disprove what this cheeid told me this morn. Lis. So, here will be a fine piece of work. [Aside. Ped. Why, what did he tell you, ha? Gibby. By my saul, Sir, Ise tell you a' the truth; my maister got a pratty lady upon the how-de-call't-passa-here, at five this morn, and he gar'd me watch her hame. And in troth I lodged her here; and meeting this illfavoured thief, see ye me, I speered wha she was-and he tauld me her name was Donna Violante, Don Pedro de Mendosa's daughter. Ped. Ha! my daughter with a man, abroad furies! By St. Anthony, I'm undone. Gibby. Wounds, Sir, ye put yer saint intul bonny company. Bid my daughter come hither; she'll tell you at five in the morning. Death, hell, and another story, my lord. Serv. She's gone out in a chair, Sir! Ped. Out in a chair! what do you mean, Sir? Serv. As I say, Sir: and Donna Isabella went in another just before her. Lop. Isabella! Serv. And Don Felix followed in another; I overheard them all bid the chairs go to the Terriero de Passa. Ped. Ha! what business has my daughter there? I am confounded, and know not what to think. Within there! Lop. My heart misgives me plaguily.-Call me an alguazil; I'll pursue them straight. [Exeunt. SCENE III.-The Street before DON PEDRO's House. Enter LISSARDO. Lis. I wish I could see Flora.-Methinks I have a hankering kindness after the slut.We must be reconciled. Enter GIBBY. Gibby. A' my saul, Sir, but Ise blithe to find ye here now. Lis. Ha! brother! give me thy hand, boy. Gibby. No sae fast, see ye me.-Brither me, nae brithers; I scorn a leer as muckle as a thief, see ye now; and ye must gang intul this hoose wi' me, and justify to Donna Violante's face, that she was the lady that gaed in here this morn, see ye me, or the de'il hae my saul, Sir, but ye and I shall be twa folks. Lis. Justify it to Donna Violante's face, quotha; for what? sure you don't know what you say. Gibby. Troth de I, Sir, as well as ye de; therefore come alang, and mak' nae mair words about it. Lis. Why, what the devil do you mean? Don't you consider you are in Portugal? Is the fellow mad? Gibby. Fellow! Ise nane of yer fellow, Sir: and gin the place were hell, I'd gar ye de me justice. [LISSARDO going.] Na, the de'il a fit ye gang. [Lays hold of him and knocks. Lis. Ha! Don Pedro himself; I wish I were fairly off. [Aside. Ped. Who is your master, you dog you? Gibby. You dog, you! 'Sbleed, "Sir, don't ca' names-I wont tell you wha my maister is, see ye me now. Ped. And who are you, rascal, that know my daughter so well, ha?" [To LISSARDO, holding up his cane. Lis. What shall I say to make him give this Scotch dog a good beating? [Aside.] I know your daughter, seignior? Not I; I never saw your daughter in all my life. Gibby. [Knocks him down with his fist.] De'il, hae my saul, sar, gin ye get no your carich for that lee now. Ped. What, hoa! Where are all my servants? Enter COLONEL BRITON, FELIX, ISABELLA, and VIOLANTE. Raise the house in pursuit of my daughter. Col. B. Hey-day! What's here to do? Gibby. This is the loon-like tike, an lik' yer honour, that sent me hame wi' a lée this morn. Fel. This is a day of jubilee, Lissardo: no quarrelling with him this day. Britons are but a word and a blow. Enter DON Lopez. Lop. So, have I found you, daughter? Then you have not hanged yourself yet, I see. Col. B. But she is married, my lord. Lop. Married! Zounds, to whom? Col. B. Even to your humble servant, my lord. If you please to give us your blessing. [Kneels. Lop. Why, hark ye, mistress! are you really married? [To ISABELLA. Isa. Really so, my lord. Lop. And who are you, Sir? [To COLONEL BRITON. Col. B. An honest North Briton by birth, and a colonel by commission, my lord. Lop. A heretic, the devil! [Holds up his hands. Ped. She has played you a slippery trick indeed, my lord-Well, my girl, thou hast been to see thy friend married.Next week thou shalt have a better husband, my dear. [TO VIOLANTE. Col. B. To the right about, Frederic; wish thy friend joy. Fred. I do, with all my soul;-and, Madam, Fel. Next week is a little too soon, Sir; II congratulate your deliverance. [To ISABELLA,] hope to live longer than that. -Your suspicions are cleared now, Felix? Ped. What do you mean, Sir? You have not made a rib of my daughter too, have you? Vio. Indeed but he has, Sir, I know not how; but he took me in an unguarded minute -when my thoughts were not over strong for a nunnery, father. Lop. Your daughter has played you a slippery trick too, seignior. Ped. But your son shall never be the better for't, my lord; her twenty thousand pounds was left on certain conditions, and I'll not part with a shilling. Lop. But we have a certain thing called law, shall make you do justice, Sir. Ped. Well, we'll try that, -my lord, much good may it do you with your daughter-in-law. Lop. I wish you much joy of your rib. [Exeunt PEDRO and LOPEZ. Enter FREDERIC. Fel. Frederic, welcome!-I sent for thee to be partaker of my happiness; and pray give me leave to introduce you to the cause of it. Fred. Your messenger has told me all, and I sincerely share in all your happiness. hope, Fel. They are; and I heartily ask the colonel pardon, and wish him happy with my sister: for love has taught me to know, that every man's happiness consists in choosing for himself. Lis. After that rule, I fix here. [To FLORA. Floru. That's your mistake; I prefer my lady's service, and turn you over to her that pleaded right and title to you to-day. Lis. Choose, proud fool; I sha'n't ask you twice. Gibby. What say ye now, lass; will ye gie your haund to puir Gibby? [TO INIS. Inis. That I may not leave my lady-I take you at your word.-And though our wooing has been short, I'll, by her example, love you dearly. Fel. Now, my Violante, I shall proclaim thy virtues to the world. A FARCE, IN TWO ACTS. BY ARTHUR MURPHY. REMARKS. THE caprice of public opinion condemned this farce on its first representation, in 1764, under the title of What we must all come to; but, in 1776, Mr. Lewis ventured to produce it for his benefit, with its present name, and it was then established in favour. This smart little piece is well conceived, occasionally verging on caricature: the flippant foolery of Sir Charles Rackett, the ridiculous airs of his lady, the pertness of Dimity, &c. produce a piquant and laughable tout ensemble. ACT I. SCENE 1. Enter WOODLEY and DIMITY. affairs. Wood. Nay, but listen to reason, Mrs. Dimity; has not your master, Mr. Drugget, invited me down to his country seat? has not he promised to give me his daughter Nancy in marriage? and with what pretence can he now break off? Dim. What pretence!-you put a body out of all patience. Go on your own way, Sir; my advice is lost upon you. Wood. You do me injustice, Mrs. Dimity. Your advice has governed my whole conduct. Have not I fixed an interest in the young lady's heart? asleep in their company; but what then? you should have entered into their characters, played with their humours, and sacrificed to their absurdities. Wood. But, if my temper is too frank— frank enough to ruin yourself. Have not you in-law from being a laughing-stock? Dim. An interest in a fiddlestick!-You ought to have made sure of the father and mother. What, do you think the way to get a wife, at this time of day, is by speaking fine things to the lady you have a fancy for? that And then the mother; how have you played Dim. Make him your father-in-law first, was the practice, indeed, but things are altered your cards in that quarter? She wants a tingel now. You must address the old people, Sir; man of fashion for her second daughter. and never trouble your head about your Mis-"Don't you see (says she) how happy my tress. Wood. But you know, my dear Dimity, the old couple have received every mark of attention from me. Dim. Attention! to be sure you did not fall Charles Rackett? She has been married three Wood. And yet I know Sir Charles Rackett) perfectly well. Dim. Yes, so do I; and I know he'll make his lady wretched at last. But what then? you should have humoured the old folks: you should have been a talking, empty fop to the good old lady; and to the old gentleman, an admirer of his taste in gardening. But you have lost him: he is grown fond of this beau, Lovelace, who is here in the house with him; the coxcomb ingratiates himself by flattery, and you're undone by frankness. Dim. And, pray, can you do better than to follow the fashion? Nan. Ah! I know there's a fashion for new bonnets, and a fashion for dressing the hair; but I never heard of a fashion for the heart. Dim. Why then, my dear, the heart mostly follows the fashion now. Nun. Does it? Pray, who sets the fashion of the heart? Dim. All the fine ladies in London, o'my conscience. Nan. And what's the last new fashion, pray? deceitful agreeable appearances about him; Dim. Why to marry any fop that has a few something of a pert phrase, a good operator for the teeth, and a tolerable tailor. Nan. And do they marry without loving? Dim. Oh! marrying for love has been a great while out of fashion. Wood. And yet, Dimity, I wont despair. Dim. And yet you have reason to despair; a million of reasons: to-morrow is fixed for the wedding-day; Sir Charles and his lady are to be here this very night; they are engaged, indeed, at a great rout in town, but they take a bed here, notwithstanding. The family is sitting up for them; Mr. Drugget will keep you all in the next room there, till they arrive; tomorrow the business is over; and yet you don't despair!-Hush! hold your tongue; here comes Lovelace: step in, and I'll devise Nan. Pshaw! I don't like him: he talks to something, I warrant you. [Exit WOODLY.] me as if he was the most miserable man in the The old folks shall not have their own way. It world, and the confident thing looks so pleasis enough to vex a body, to see an old fathered with himself all the while. I want to marand mother marrying their daughter as they please, in spite of my judgment, and all I can do. Enter LOVELACE. Dim. Do lend us your assistance, Mr. Lovelace. You are a sweet gentleman, and love a good-natured action. comes up again. Dim. And then, Mr. Lovelace, I reckon ry for love, and not for card-playing. I should not be able to bear the life my sister leads with Sir Charles Rackett. Shall I tell you a secret? I will forfeit my new cap, if they don't quarrel soon. Dim. Oh, fie! no! they wont quarrel yet awhile. A quarrel in three weeks after marriage, would be somewhat of the quickest. By Love. Why, how now! what's the matter? and by we shall hear of their whims and their Dim. My master is going to cut the two yew-humours. Well, but if you don't like Mr. trees into the shape of two devils, I believe; Lovelace, what say you to Mr. Woodley? and my poor mistress is breaking her heart for it. Do, run and advise him against it. She is your friend, you know she is, Sir. Love. Oh, if that's all, I'll make that matter easy directly. Dim. My mistress will be for ever obliged to you; and you will marry her daughter in the morning. Love. Oh, my rhetoric shall dissuade him. Dim. And, Sir, put him against dealing with that nursery-man; Mrs. Drugget hates him. Nan. Well, Dimity, what's to become of me? Dim. My stars! what makes you up, Miss? I thought you were gone to bed. Nan. What should I go to bed for? only to tumble, and toss, and fret, and be uneasy. They are going to marry me, and I am frighted out of my wits. Dim. Why then you are the only young lady within fifty miles round, that would be frightened at such a thing. Nan. Ah! if they would let me choose for myself. Dim. Don't you like Mr. Lovelace? Nan. My mamma does, but I don't; I don't mind his being a man of fashion, not İ. Nan. Ah!-I don't know what to say-but I can sing something that will explain my mind. When first the dear youth, passing by, 1 gaz'd, but I could not tell why, As nearer he drew, those sweet eyes My heart it went throb with delight. When his lips their dear accents did try I feign'd, yet began to guess why My heart it went throb with delight. We chang'd the stol'n glance, the fond smile, We look'd and we sigh'd, yet the while Consent I soon blush'd, with a sigh Enter WOODLEY. Wood. My sweetest angel! I have heard it all, and my heart overflows with love and gratitude. Nan. Ah! but I did not know you were listening. You should not have betrayed me so, Dimity; I shall be angry with you. Dim. Well, I'll take my chance for that. Run both into my room, and say all your pretty things to one another there, for here comes the old gentleman-make haste, away. [Exeunt WOODLEY and NANCY. Enter DRUGGET. Drug. A forward presuming coxcomb! Dimity, do you step to Mrs. Drugget, and send her hither. Dim. Yes, Sir;-it works upon him, I see. [Exit. Drug. The yew-trees ought not to be cut, because they'll help to keep off the dust, and I am too near the road already. A sorry ignorant fop! When I am in so fine a situation, and can see every cart, waggon, and stagecoach, that goes by. And then to abuse the nursery-man's rarities! A finer sucking pig in lavender, with sage growing in his belly, was never seen! And yet he wants me not to have it but have it I will.-There's a fine tree of knowledge, with Adam and Eve in juniper; Eve's nose not quite grown, but it's thought in the spring will be very forward: I'll have that too, with the serpent in ground ivy. Two poets in wormwood! I'll have them both. Ay; and there's a Lord Mayor's feast in honey-suckle; and the whole court of aldermen in hornbeam: they all shall be in my garden, with the Dragon of Wantley in box, all, all; I'll have them all, let my wife and Mr. Lovelace say what they will. Enter MRS. Drugget. Mrs. D. Did you send for me, lovey? Drug. The yew-trees shall be cut into the giants at Guildhall, whether you will or not. Mrs. D. Sure my own dear will do as he pleases. Drug. And the pond, though you praise the green banks, shall be walled round; and I'll have a little fat boy in marble, spouting up water in the middle. Drug. How! I don't want that neither. Drug. I am your lord and master, my dear, but not your executioner. Before George, it must never be said that my wife died of too much compliance. Cheer up, my love; and this affair shall be settled as soon as Sir Charles and Lady Rackett arrive. Mrs. D. You bring me to life again. You know, my sweet, what a happy couple Sir Charles and his lady are. Why should not we make our Nancy as happy? Enter DIMITY. Dim. Sir Charles and his lady, Ma'am. Mrs. D. Oh! charming! I'm transported with joy! where are they? I long to see 'em. [Exit. Dim. Well, Sir; the happy couple are arrived. Drug. Yes, they do live happy indeed. Drug. How long! Don't forbode any ill, you jade; don't, say. It will last during their lives, I hope. Dim. Well, mark the end of it. Sir Charles, I know, is gay and good-humoured; but he can't bear the least contradiction, no, not in the merest trifle. Drug. Hold your tongue; hold your tongue. Dim. Yes, Sir, I have done; and yet there is in the composition of Sir Charles a certain humour, which, like the flying gout, gives no disturbance to the family, till it settles in the head when once it fixes there, mercy on every body about him! But here he comes. Enter SIR CHARLES. [Exit. Sir C. My dear Sir, I kiss your hand. But why stand on ceremony? To find you up at this late hour mortifies me beyond expression. Mrs. D. My sweet, who hinders you? Drug. 'Tis but once in a way, Sir Charles. Drug. Yes, and I'll buy the nursery-man's Sir C. My obligations to you are inexpreswhole catalogue. Do you think, after retir-sible; you have given me the most amiable ing to live all the way here, almost four miles of girls; our tempers accord like unisons in from London, that I wont do as I please in my music. own garden? Mrs. D. My dear, but why are you in such a passion? Drug. I'll have the lavender pig, and the Adam and Eve, and the Dragon of Wantley, and all 'of 'em; and there sha'n't be a more romantic spot on the London road than mine. Mrs. D. I'm sure it is as pretty as hands >an make it. Drug. I did it all myself, and I'll do more. And Mr. Lovelace sha'n't have my daughter. Mrs. D. No! what's the matter now, Mr. Drugget? Drug. He shall learn better manners than to abuse my house and gardens. You put him into the head of it, but I'll disappoint ye both. And so you may go and tell Mr. Lovelace that the match is quite off. Mrs. D. I can't comprehend all this, not I. But I'll tell him so, if you please, my dear. I am willing to give myself pain, if it will give you pleasure: must I give myself pain? Don't ask me, pray don't; I can't support all this uneasiness. Drug. Ah! that's what makes me happy in my old days; my children and my garden are all my care. Sir C. And my friend Lovelace-he is to have our sister Nancy, I find. Drug. Why, my wife is so minded. Sir C. O, by all means, let her be made happy. A very pretty fellow Lovelace; as to that Mr. Woodley, I think you call him-he is but a plain, underbred, ill-fashioned, sort of a-Nobody knows him; he is not one of us. Oh, by all means marry her to one of us. Drug. I believe it must be so. Would you take any refreshment? Sir C. Nothing in nature-it is time to retire to rest. Drug. Well, well, good night, Sir Charles. Ha! here comes my daughter. Good night, Sir Charles. Sir C. Bon repos. Enter LADY RACKETT. Lady R. Dear Sir! I did not expect to see you up so late. Drug. My Lady Rackett, I am glad to hear how happy you are: I wont detain you now. There's your good man waiting for you; good [Exit. Drug. I am resolved, and it shall be so. Mrs. D. Let it be so then. [Cries.] Oh! oh! cruel man! I shall break my heart if the match is broke off. If it is not concluded to-night, my girl. morrow, send for an undertaker, and bury me the next day. Sir C. I must humour this old put, in order to be remembered in his will. |