ÆäÀÌÁö À̹ÌÁö
PDF
ePub

Don P. Now, my Hypolita!
Let our example teach mankind to love;
From thine the fair their favours may improve:]

O! never let a virtuous mind despair,
For constant hearts are love's peculiar care.
[Exeunt.

GEORGE COLMAN

Was the son of Francis Colman, Esq., His Majesty's resident at the court of the Grand Duke of Tuscany at Florence, by a sister of the Countess of Bath. He was born at Florence about 1753, and had the honour of having king George the Second for his godfather. He received his education at Westminster School, where he very early showed his poetical talents. The first performance by him was a copy of verses addressed to his cousin Lord Pulteney, written in the year 1747, while he was at Westminster, and since printed in The St. Jame's Magazine, a work published by his unfortunate friend, Robert Lloyd. From Westminster School he removed to Oxford, and became a student of Christchurch. It was there, at a very early age, that he engaged with his friend Bonnel Thornton, in publishing The Connoisseur, a periodical paper which appeared once a week, and was continued from Jan. 51. 1754. to Sept. 55. 1756, When the age of the writers of this entertaining paper is considered, the wit and humeur, the spirit, the good sense and shrewd observations on life and manners, with which it abounds, will excite some degree of wonder; but will, at the same time, evidently point out the extraordinary talents which were afterwards to be more fully displayed in The Jealous Wife and The Clandestine Marriage. The recommendation of his friends, or his choice, but probably the former, induced him to fix upon the law for his profession; and was accordingly entered at Lincoln's Inn, and in due season called to the bar. He attended there a very short time; though, if our recollection does not mislead us, he was seen often enough in the courts to prevent the supposition of his abandoning the profession merely for want of encouragement. On the 18th of March 1758, he took the degree of Master of arts at Oxford; and in the year 1760 his first dramatic piece, Polly Honeycomb, was acted at Drury Lane, with great success. For several years before, the comic Muse seemed to have relinquished the stage, No comedy had been produced at either theatre since the year 1751, when Moore's Gil Blas was with difficulty performed nine nigts. In July 1764 Lord Bath died; and on that event Mr. Colman found himself in circumstances fully sufficient to enable him to follow the bent of his genius. The first publication which he produced, after this period, was a translation in blank verse of the comedies of Terence, 1765; and whoever would wish to see the spirit of an aucient bard transfused into the English language, must look for it in Mr. Colman's version. The successor of Lord Bath, General Pulteney, died in 1767; and Mr. Colman again found himself remembered in his will, by a second annuity, which confirmed the independency of his fortune. however, to have felt no charms in an idle life; as, in 1767, he united with Messrs. Harris, Rutherford, and Powell, in the purchase of Covent Garden Theatre, and took upon himself the laborious office of acting manager. After continuing manager of Covent Garden Theatre seven years, Mr. Colman sold his share and interest therein to Mr. James Leake, one of his then partners; and, in 1777, purchased of Mr. Foote the Little Theatre in the Haymarket. The estimation in which the entertainments exhibited under his direction were held by the public, the reputation which the theatre acquired, and the continual concourse of the polite world during the height of summer, sufficiently spoke the praises of Mr. Colman's management. Indeed, it has been long admitted, that no person, since the death of Mr. Garrick, was so able to superintend the entertainments of the stage as the subject of this account. About the year 1785 Mr. Colman gave the public a new translation of, and commentary on, Horace's Art of Poetry; in which he produced a new system to explain this very difficult poem. In opposition to Dr. Hurd, he supposed, "that one of the sons of Pise, undoubtedly the elder, hat either written or mediated a poetical work, most probably a tragedy; and that he bad, with the knowledge of the family, communicated his piece or intention to Horace. But Horace either dissaproving of the work, or doubting of the poetical faculties of the elder Piso, or both, wished to dissuade him from all thought of publication. With this view he formed the design of writing this epistle; addressing it, with a courtliness and delicaey perfectly agreeable to his acknowledged character, indifferently to the whole family, the father and his two sons, Epistola ad Pisones de arte Poetica." This hypothesis is supported with much learning, ingenuity, and modesty; and, if not fully established, is at least as well entitled to applause as that adopted by the Bishop of Worcester. On the publication of the Horace, the Bishop said to Dr. Douglas, "Give my compliments to Colman, and thank him for the handsome manner in which he has treated me; and tell him, that I think he is right" Mr. Colman died at Paddington, on the 14th of August 1794, at the age of 62. A few hours before his death he was seized with violent spasms; and these were succeeded by a melancholy stupor, in which he drew his last breath,

He seems,

THE JEALOUS WIFE,

Com, by Geo. Colman, 1761. This piece made its appearance at Drury Lane with prodigious success. The groundwork of it is derived from Fielding's History of Tom Jones, at the period of Sophia's taking refuge at Lady Bellaston's house. The characters borrowed from that work, however, only serve as a kind of under plot to introduce Mr. and Mrs. Oakley, viz. the Jealous Wife and her husband. It must be confessed, that the passions of the lady are here orked up to a very great height; and Mr. Oakley's vexation and domestic misery, in consequence of her behaviour, are very strongly supported. Yet, perhaps, the author would have better answered his purpose with respect to the passion he intended to expose the absurdity of, had he made her appear somewhat less of the virago, and Mr. Oakley not so much of the henpecked husband; since she now appears rather a lady, who, from a consciousness of her own power, is desirous of supporting the appearance of jealousy, to procure her an indue influence over her husband and family, than one, who, feeling the reality of that turbulent yet fluctuating passion, becomes equally absurd in the suddenness of forming unjust suspicions, and in that hastiness of being satisfied, which love, the only true basis of jealousy, will constantly Occasion. When this play was originally acted, it was remarked, that the scene of Mrs. Oakley's hysteric fits bore a near resemblance to the like situation of Mrs. Termagant in The Squire of Alsatia. Mr. Colman has been accused of a misnomer in calling it The Jealous Wife; Mrs. Oakley being totally destitute of that delicacy, which some consider necessary to constitute jealousy. Many exceptions might be taken to the characters in this piece-that of Lady Freelove is perhaps too odious for the stage, while that of Captain O'Cutter does little honour to the navy. The play, however, upon the whole, boasts more than an ordinary share of merit.

[blocks in formation]

ACT I.

SCENE. 1.-A Room in OAKLY'S House.

her miseries.- How unfortunate a woman am I-I could die with vexation

[Throwing herself into a Chair. Ouk. There it is-Now dare not I stir a [Noise heard within. step further-If I offer to go, she is in one of Mrs. O. [Within] Don't tell me I know her fits in an instant-Never sure was woit is so-It's monstrous, and I will not bear it. man at once of so violent and so delicate a Oak. [Within] But, my dear!-Mrs. O. Nay, nay, etc. [Squabbling within. Enter MRS. OAKLY, with a Letter, followed by OAKLY.

[blocks in formation]

constitution! What shall I say to sooth her?
[Aside]Nay, never make thyself so uneasy,
my dear-Come, come, you know I love you.
Mrs. O. I know you hate me; and that your
unkindness and barbarity will be the death of
me.
[Whining
Oak. Do not vex yourself at this rate-I
love you most passionately-Indeed I do-
This must be some mistake.

Mrs. O. Oh, I am an unhappy woman!

[Weeping.

Oak. Dry up thy tears, my love, and be comforted! You will find that I am not to blame in this matter-Come, let me see this letter-Nay, you shall not deny me.

[Takes the Letter. Mrs. O. There! take it; you know the hand,

Mrs. O. Look you, Mr. Oakly, this usage is not to be borne. You take a pleasure in abusing my tenderness and soft disposition.To be perpetually running over the whole I am sure. town, nay, the whole kingdom too, in pursuit Oak. [Reads] To Charles Oakly, Esq.of your amours! Did not I discover that Hand! 'Tis a clerk-like hand, a good round you was great with mademoiselle, my own text! and was certainly never penned by a woman?-Did not you contract a shameful fair lady.

familiarity with Mrs. Freeman?-Did not I Mrs. O. Ay, laugh at me, do!

[ocr errors]

detect your intrigue with lady Wealthy?— Oak. Forgive me, my love, I dit not mean Was not youto laugh at thee-But what says the letter? Oak. Oons! madam, the grand Turk him- [Reads] Daughter eloped-you must be self has not half so many mistresses-Yo throw privy to it-scandalous-dishonourable-same out of all patience-Do I know any body tisfaction-revenge-um, um, um-injured but our common friends?-Am I visited by father. HENRY RUSSET.

any body that does not visit you?-Do I ever Mrs. O. [Rising] Well, sir-you see I have go out, unless you go with me?-And am I detected you-Tell me this instant where she not as constantly by your side as if I was is concealed. tied to your apron-strings?

Oak. So -SO-SO -This hurts me- - I'm [To himself.

Mrs. O. Go, go; you are a false man-Have shocked. not I found you out a thousand times? And Mrs. O. What, are you confounded with have not I this moment a letter in my hand, your guilt? Have I caught you at last? which convinces me of your baseness?-Let me know the whole affair, or I will

Oak. Let you know! Let me know what you would have of me - You stop my letter before it comes to my hands, and then expect that I should know the contents of it!

Mrs. O. Heaven be praised, I stopped it! I suspected some of these doings for some time past-But the letter informs me who she is, and I'll be revenged on her sufficiently. Oh, you base man, you!

Oak. I beg, my dear, that you would moderate your passion!-Show me the letter, and I'll convince you of my innocence.

Oak. O that wicked Charles! To decoy a young lady from her parents in the country! The profligacy of the young fellows of this age is abominable. [To himself.

Mrs. O. [Half aside, and musing] Charles!-Let me see!-Charles!-No!-Impossible! This is all a trick.

Oak. He has certainly ruined this poor lady. [To himself. Mrs. O. Art! art! all art! There's a sudden turn now! You have ready wit for an intrigue, I find.

Oak. Such an abandoned action! I wish I had never had the care of him.

Mrs. O. Innocence!-Abonimable!-Inno- Mrs. O. Mighty fine, Mr. Oakly! Go on, cence! But I am not to be made such a fool sir, go on! I see what you mean.-Your as-I am convinced of your perfidy, and very surance provokes me beyond your very falsesure thathood itself. So you imagine, sir, that this afOak. 'Sdeath and fire! your passion hurries fected concern, this flimsy pretence about you out of your senses- -Will you hear me? Charles, is to bring you off. Matchless conMrs. O. No, you are a base man: and Ifidence! But I am armed against every thing will not hear you. -I am prepared for all your dark schemes: Oak. Why then, my dear, since you will I am aware of all your low stratageins. neither talk reasonably yourself, nor listen to Oak. See there now! Was ever any thing reason from me, I shall take my leave till so provoking? To persevere in your ridicuyou are in a better humour. So your servant! lous-For heaven's sake, my dear, don't dis[Going. tract me. When you see my mind thus agi

Mrs. O. Ay, go, you cruel man!-Go to tated and uneasy, that a young fellow, whom your mistresses, and leave your poor wife to his dying father, my own brother, committed

to my care, should be guilty of such enor-think the whole family is made of nothing but mous wickedness; I say, when you are wit-combustibles, ness of my distress on this occasion, how can Oak. I like this emotion; it looks well: it you be weak enough and cruel enough to- may serve too to convince my wife of the Mrs. O. Prodigiously well, sir! You do it folly of her suspicions. Would to heaven I very well. Nay, keep it up, carry it on; could quiet them for ever!

there's nothing like going through with it. O, Maj.O. Why pray now, my dear, naughty you artful creature! But, sir, I am not to be brother, what heinous offence have you comso easily satisfied. I do not believe a syllable mitted this morning? What new cause of of all this Give me the letter-[Snatches the suspicion? You have been asking one of the Letter] You shall sorely repent this vile bu- maids to mend your ruffle, I suppose, or have siness, for I am resolved that I will know the been hanging your head out at the window, bottom of it. [Exit. when a pretty young woman has passed by,

Oak. This is beyond all patience. Provok-oring woman! Her absurd suspicions interpret Oak. How can you trifle with my distresses, every thing the wrong way. But this ungra- major? Did not I tell you it was about a cious boy! In how many troubles will he letter? involve his own and his lady's family!-I never imagined that he was of such abandoned cumstance, to be sure! What, and the seal principles.

Enter MAJOR OAKLY and Charles. Charles. Good morrow, sir!

Maj. O. Good morrow, brother, good morrow! What! you have been at the old work, I find. I heard you-ding! dong! i'faith! She has rung a noble peal in your ears. But how now? Why sure you've had a remarkable warm bout on't.-You seem more ruffled than usual.

Maj. O. A letter!-hum-A suspicious cir

a truelover's knot now, hey? or a heart transfixed with darts; or possibly the was bore the industrious impression of a thimble; or perhaps the folds were lovingly connected by a wafer, pricked with a pin, and the direction written in a vile scrawl, and not a word spelt as it should be! ha, ha, ha!

Oak. Pooh! brother-Whatever it was, the letter, you find, was for Charles, not for me this outrageous jealousy is the devil. Maj. O. Mere matrimonial blessings and domestic comfort, hrother! jealousy is a cer

Oak. I am, indeed, brother! Thanks to that young gentleman there. Have a care, Charles! tain sign of love. you may be called to a severe account for

Oak. Love! it is this very love that hath

this. The honour of a family, sir, is no such made us both so miserable. Her love for me light matter.

Charles. Sir!

has confined me to my house, like a state prisoner, without the liberty of seeing my

Maj. O. Hey-day! What, has a curtain lec- friends, or the use of pen, ink, and paper; ture produced a lecture of morality? What while my love for her has made such a fool of me, that I have never had the spirit to contradict her.

is all this?

Oak. To a profligate mind, perhaps, these things may appear agreeable in the beginning. But don't you tremble at the consequences? Charles. I see, sir, that you are displeased with me; but I am quite at a loss to guess at the occasion.

Oak. Tell me, sir!-where is miss Harriot Russet?

Maj. O. Ay, ay, there you've hit it, Mrs. Oakly would make an excellent wife, if you did but know how to manage her.

Oak. You are a rare fellow indeed to talk of managing a wife-A debauched bachelor -a rattle-brained, rioting fellow-who have picked up your commonplace notions of Charles. Miss Harriot Russet!-Sir-Explain. women in bagnios, taverns, and the camp; Oak. Have not you decoyed her from her whose most refined commerce with the sex father? has been in order to delude country girls at Charles. 1-Decoyed ber-Decoyed my your quarters, or to besiege the virtue of abiHarriot! I would sooner die than do her the least injury-What can this mean?

Maj. O. I believe the young dog has been at her, after all.

gails, inilliners, or mantua-makers' 'prentices.
Maj. O. So much the better!-so much the
better! women are all alike in the main,
brother, high or low, married or single, quality or
no quality. I have fonnd them
so, from a duchess

Oak. I was in hopes, Charles, you had better principles. But there's a letter just come from down to a milk-maid; every woman is a tyher fatherrant at the bottom. But they could never make Charles. A letter!-What letter? Dear sir, a fool of me.-No, no! no give it me. Some intelligence of my Harriot, ever domineer over me, let her be mistress major! The letter, sir, the letter this mo- or wife. ment, for heaven's sake!

woman should

Oak. Single men can be no judges in these Oak. If this warmth, Charles, tends to prove cases. They must happen in all families. But your innocencewhen things are driven to extremities-to see Charles. Dear sir, excuse me I'll prove a woman in uneasiness a woman one loves any thing-Let me but see this letter, and I'll-too-one's wife-who can withstand it? You Oak. Let you see it!-I could hardly get a neither speak nor think like a man that has sight of it myself. Mrs. Oakly has it. loved and been married, major!

Charles. Has she got it? Major, I'll be with Maj. O. I wish I could hear a married man you again directly. [Exit hastily speak my language-I'm a bachelor, it's true; Maj. O. Hey-day! The devil's in the boy! but I am no bad judge of your case for all What a fiery set of people! By my troth, I that. I know yours and Mrs. Oakly's dispo

sition to a hair. She is all impetuosity and my study. I'll go and steal them out, while fire—a very magazine of touchwood and gun- she is busy talking with Charles. powder. You are hot enough too, upon oc- Maj. O. Steal them! for shame! Pr'ythee casion, but then it's over in an instant. In take them boldly; call for them! make them comes love and conjugal affection, as you call bring them to you here; and go out with it; that is, mere folly and weakness-and you spirit, in the face of your whole family. draw off your forces, just when you should pursue the attack, and follow your advantage. Have at her with spirit, and the day's your own, brother.

I

Oak. No, no-you are wrong-let her rave after I am gone, and when I return, you know, shall exert myself with more propriety, after this open affront to her authority. Maj. O. Well, take your own way. Oak. Ay, ay-let me manage it, let me ma[Exit.

Oak. Why, what would you have me do? Maj. O. Do as you please for one month, whether she likes it or not: and I'll answer nage it. for it she will consent you shall do as you Maj. O. Manage it! ay, to be sure, you please all her life after. In short, do but show are a rare manager! It is dangerous, they yourself a man of spirit, leave off whining say, to meddle between man and wife. I am about love and tenderness, and nonsense, and no great favourite of Mrs. Oakly's already; the business is done, brother. and in a week's time I expect to have the

Enter CHARles.

Oak. I believe you are in the right, major! door shut in my teeth. I see you are in the right. I'll do it-I'll certainly do it. But then it hurts me to the How now, Charles, what news? soul, to think what uneasiness I shall give her. Charles. Ruined and undone! She's gone, The first opening of my design will throw uncle! my Harriot's lost for ever. her into fits, and the pursuit of it, perhaps, Maj. O. Gone off with a man?—I thought may be fatal. so; they are all alike.

Charles. Oh no! Fled to avoid that bateful match with sir Harry Beagle.

Maj. O. Faith, a girl of spirit; but whence comes all this intelligence?

Maj. O. Fits! ha, ha, ha!-I'll engage to cure her of her fits. Nobody understands hysterical cases better than I do; besides, my sister's symptoms are not very dangerous. Did you ever hear of her falling into a fit when Charles. In an angry letter from her father you was not by?-Was she ever found in -How miserable I am! If I had not offendconvulsions in her closet?—No, no, these fits, ed my Harriot, much offended her, by that the more care you take of them, the more foolish riot and drinking at your house in the you will increase the distemper: let them country, she would certainly, at such a time, alone, and they will wear themselves out, I have taken refuge in my arms. warrant you.

Oak. True, very true-you are the right-I'll follow your advice. you dine to-day?—I'll order the go with you.

Maj. O. A very agreeable refuge for a young certainly in lady to be sure, and extremely decent! Where do

Charles. What a heap of extravagancies

coach, and was I guilty of!

Maj. O. O brave! keep up this spirit, and you are made for ever.

Oak. You shall see now, major!-Who's there?

Enter Servant.

Order the coach directly. I shall dine
to-day.

Serv. The coach, sir?-Now, sir?
Oak. Ay, now, immediately.
Serv. Now, sir!-the-the-coach,

that is my mistress

Maj. O. Sirrah! do as you are bid. them put to this instant.

Maj O. Extravagancies with a witness! Ah, you silly young dog, you would ruin yourself with her father, in spite of all I could do. There you sat, as drunk as a lord, telling the old gentleman the whole affair, and swearing you would drive sir Harry Beagle out of the country, though I kept winking and nodding, out pulling you by the sleeve, and kicking your shins under the table, in hopes of stopping you; but all to no purpose.

Charles. What distress may she be in at sir?—this instant! Alone and defenceless!—Where, where can she be?

Bid [Exit.

Sero. Ye-yes, sir-yes, sir.
Oak. Well, where shall we dine?
Maj. O. At the St. Albans, or where you
will. This is excellent; if you do but hold it.
Oak. I will have my own way, I am de-

termined.

Maj. O. That's right.

Oak. I am steel.

Maj. O. Bravo!

Oak. Adamant.

Maj. O. O Bravissimo!

Oak. Just what you'd have me.

Maj. O. What relations or friends has she in town?

Charles. Relations! let me see.- -Faith, I have it!-If she is in town, ten to one but she is at her aunt's, lady Freelove's. I'll go thither immediately.

Maj. O. Lady Freelove's! Hold, hold, Charles!-do you know her ladyship?

Charles. Not much! but l'il break through all, to get to my Harriot.

Maj. O. I do know her ladyship. Charles. Well, and what do you know of her?

Maj. O. O, nothing!-Her ladyship is a

Maj. O. Why that's well said. But will you woman of the world, that's all

do it?

Oak. I will.

Maj. O. You won't.

Charles. What do you mean?

Maj. O. That lady Freelove is an arrantBy-the by, did not she, last summer, make formal proposals to Harriot's father from lord

Oak. I will. I'll be a fool to her no longer.
But harkye, major, my hat and cane lie in Trinket?"

[Apart.

Charles. Yes; but they were received with Maj. O. For shame! hold out, if you are the utmost contempt. The old gentleman, it a man. seems, hates a lord, and he told her so in plain terms.

Oak. She has been so much vexed this morning already, I must humour her a little now.

Maj. O. Such an aversion to the nobility may not run in the blood. The girl, I warrant you, has no objection. However, if she's there, watch her narrowly, Charles. Lady Freelove is as mischievous as a monkey, and home with thee, my love. as cunning too. - Have a care of her, I say, have a care of her.

[Apart. Maj. O. Fie! fie! go out, or you are undone. [Apart. Oak. You see it's impossible.-I'll dine at

[Apart to Mrs. Oakly.

Mrs. O. Ay, ay, pray do, sir,-Dine at a [Going. Oak. [Returning] You may depend on me another time, major.

Charles. If she's there, I'll have her out of tavern indeed! the house within this half hour, or set fire to it.

Maj. O. Nay, now you are too violentstay a moment, and we'll consider what's best to be done.

Enter OAKLY.

Oak. Come, is the coach ready? Let us be gone. Does Charles go with us?

Charles. I go with you!-What can I do? I am so vexed and distracted, and so many thoughts crowd in upon me, I don't know which way to turn myself.

Mrs. O. [Within] The coach!-dines out! -where is your master?

Oak. Zounds, brother! here she is!

Re-enter MRS. OAKLY.

Mrs. O. Pray, Mr. Oakly, what is the matter you cannot dine at home to-day?

Oak. Don't be uneasy, my dear!-I have a little business to settle with my brother; so I am only just going to dinner, with him and Charles, to the tavern.

Mrs. 0. Why cannot you settle your business here, as well as at a tavern? but it is some of your ladies' business, I suppose, and so you must get rid of my company.-This is chiefly your fault, major Oakly!

Maj. O. Steel and adamant!-Ah!
Mrs. O. [Returning] Mr. Oakly!

Oak. O, my dear! [Exit, with Mrs. Oakly. Maj. O. Ha, ha, ha! there's a picture of resolution! there goes a philosopher for you! ha! Charles!

Charles. O, uncle! I have no spirits to laugh now.

Maj. O. So! I have a fine time on't between you and my brother. Will you meet me to dinner at the St. Albans by four? We'll drink her health, and think of this affair.

Charles. Don't depend on me. I shall be running all over the town, in pursuit of my Harriot; at all events I'll go directly to lady Freelove's. If I find her not there, which way I shall direct myself, heaven knows.

Maj. O. Harkye, Charles! If you meet with her, you may be at a loss. Bring her to my house; I have a snug room, and

Charles. Phoo! Prythee, uncle, don't triffle with me now.

Maj. O. Well, seriously then, my house is at your service.

Charles. I thank you; but I must be gone. Maj. O. Ay, ay, bring her to my house, Maj. O. Lord, sister, what signifies it, whether and we'll settle the whole affair for you. You a man dines at home or abroad? [Coolly shall clap her into a post-chaise, take the Mrs. O. It signifies a great deal, sir! and chaplain of our regiment along with you, wheel her down to Scotland), and when you Maj. O. Phoo! let him go, my dear sister, come back, send to settle her fortune with let him go! he will be ten times better com- her father; that's the modern art of making pany when he comes back. I tell you what, love, Charles! sister-you sit a home till you are quite tired

I don't choose

of one another, and then you grow cross,

ACT II.

[Exeuni

and fall out. If you would but part a little SCENE I.-A Room in the Bull and Gate Inn. now and then, you might meet again in

humour.

Mrs. O. I beg, major Oakly, that you would trouble yourself about your own affairs; and let me tell you, sir, that I

Enter SIR HARRY BEAGLE 2) and Toм. Sir H. Ten guineas a mare, and a crown the man? hey, Tom!

Tom. Yes, your honour.

Oak. Nay, do not put thyself into a passion with the major, my dear!-It is not his fault; is no flaw in his blood? and I shall come back to thee very soon.

Sir H. And are you sure, Tom, that there

Mrs. O. Come back;-why need you go out? I know well enough when you mean to deceive me; for then there is always a pretence of dining with sir John, or my lord, or somebody; but when you tell me that you are going to a tavern, it's such a bare-faced affront

Oak. This is so strange now!-Why, my dear, I shall only just

Mrs. O. Only just go after the lady in the letter, I suppose.

Oak. Well, well, I won't go then.-Will that convince you? I'll stay with you, my dear. Will that satisfy you?

Tom. He's a good thing, sir, and as little beholden to the ground, as any horse that

1) A spirited girl in England, when opposed in her choice of a husband by her parents, used to make nothing of agreeing with her lover to set off with him to Gretna Green (on the borders of Scotland), to get married; but now this custom is abolished, and the blacksmith who used to perform the marriage ceremony has been forbidden to act, since Lord E-took his flight towards those regions on the same errand; so that, now the lovers are obliged to have the ceremony performed in a boat on the river there, and this marriage is perfectly valid.

2) We have an excellent specimen, in sir H. Beagle, of one of our racing and fox-hunting country-squires; as he speaks entirely in the language of the turf (raceground), some of his sporting terms require an explanation.

« ÀÌÀü°è¼Ó »