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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 wel
Enter SIR HARRY, LADY SYCAMORE, THEO- come in the kitchen.
DOSIA, and MERVIN.
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-I insist upmarket-So, my lord, please to know our on it. son-in-law that is to be.
Sir H. Ha, ha, ha-hem!
Lord A. You do me a great deal of honour Lady S. Sir Harry, I am ready to sink at -I wish you joy, sir, with all my heart.-And the monstrousness of your behaviour. 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
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-Withyour leave, my lord, I'llLady S. Sir Harry!
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.
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 Christcherh 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. B 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 flial 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 anthors 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. Colma 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 nobis abolished) correspond with every British, every liberal, mind, The mal-à-propos offer of Inkle to sell his Yarico t 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, m the Spectator to that affecting story, Mr. Colman was indebted only for the cold, calculating Inkle; and the gent's, affectionate Yarico;-the rest of the characters and the developement of the whole are offspring of his abundant invealan
SIR CHRISTOPHER CURRY.
SCENE.-First, on the Main of America: afterwards, in Barbadoes.
SCENE I.-An American forest. Med. [Without] HILLI ho! ho! Trudge. [Without] Hip! hollo!
to bring all the natives about us; and we shal be stripped and plundered in a minute.
Trudge. Aye; stripping is the first thing that would happen to us; for they seem to be ho!-Hip!-woefully off for a wardrobe. I myself sɔ three, at a distance, with less clothes than i have when I get out of bed: all dancing about in black buff; just like Adam in mourning.
Enter MEDIUM and TRudge. Med. Pshaw! it's only wasting time and 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 it may have in some places, advancing his interest.-Always advantage ia 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.
Trudge. Hip, hillio-ho-hi!
Botany Bay scheme, mayhap. Nothing els could induce him to quit our foraging party. from the ship; when he knows every inhatitant here is not only as black as a peppercorn, but as hot into the bargain—and I, like a fool, to follow him! and then to let him loiter behind. Why, nephew! why, Inkle!
Med. Hold your tongue, you blockhead, or Trudge. Lord! sir, if my master makes no more haste, we shall all be put to sword by the knives of the natives. I'm told they take off heads like hats, and hang 'em on pegs in their parlours. Mercy on us! my head aches [Calling with the very thoughts of it. Holo! Mr. Inkle! Trudge. Why, Inkle-Well! only to see master; holo! the difference of men! he'd have thought it Med. Head aches! zounds, so does mine very hard, now, if I had let him call so often with your confounded bawling. It's enough 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 fool was I, to leave London for would 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 adwhat 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
Med. You were?
king of the counting-house, as well as lord be made to produce by the acre.
Med. Yes, or writing an invoice with lampblack, and shining his shoes with an ink-bottle, as usual, you blundering blockhead!
Trudge. Oh! if I was but brushing the accounts, or casting up the coats! mercy on us!
Inkle. So, Mr. Medium.
Inkle. Yes; I was proceeding algebraically upon the subject.
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?
Med. Zounds, one would think, by your confounded composure, that you were walking in St. James's Park, instead of an American 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. the jackalls, courtiers; the crocodiles, fine] women; and the baboons, beaus. What the plague made you loiter so long? Inkle. Reflection.
Med. Then what the devil do you do here, hunting old hairy negroes, when you ought 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, I 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 nate in their dress. negroes, have, of course, black legs.
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.
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
But we merchant lads, tho' the foe we can't maul,
Nor are paid,
their steps, we shall overtake 'em at one mile's Why we pay end, by all the powers of arithmetic.
Med. Oh, curse your arithmetic! how are
we to find our way?
like fine king-ships, to fight at
ourselves well, without fighting
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 ship at anchor in the bay, at a small distance.
2nd Sail. Do? sheer off, to be sure.
Enter SAILORS and MATE, as returning from spike!
Midsh. [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! to come at it-there's hardly any steering clear
[Exit. of the rocks here. But do we muster all Enter MEDIUM, running, as pursued by hands? all right, think ye?
1st Sail. All to a man- besides yourself, Med. Nephew! Trudge! run — scamper' and a 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! Ob, 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, 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?
Poets sung that Achilles-if, now, they've an
Enter INKLE and TRUDGE, hastily. Trudge. Oh! that ever I was born, to leave pen, ink, and powder, for this'!
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! Threadneedlestreet, Thread!
Trudge. [Hiding] needle-street.
[They hide behind trees. Natives cross. After a long pause, Inkle looks from the trees.
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 hooby! A tree, I fancy, you'll find, in future, the best resource in a hot pursuit.
Trudge. Oh, charming! It's a retreat for a king ), sir. Mr. Medium, however, has not got up in it; your uncle, sir, has run on like a booby; and has got up with our party by this time, I take it; who are now most likely 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 ad. hid himself in a tree.
Inkle. Confusion! my property carried off in the vessel.
Trudge. All, all, sir, except me. Inkle. They may report me dead, perhaps; and dispose of my property at the next island. [Vessel under sail.
Inkle. Well, is the coast clear? This cavern may prove a safe retreat to us Trudge. Eh! Oh lord!-Clear? [Rubbing for the present. his eyes] Oh dear! oh dear! the coast will I'll enter, cost what it will. Trudge. Oh Lord! no, don't, don't - We soon be clear enough now, I promise you- shall pay too dear for our lodging, depend on't. The ship is under sail, sir! Inkle. This is no time for debating. You are at the mouth of it: lead the way, Trudge. Trudge. What! go in before your honour! I know my place better, I assure you-I might walk into more mouths than one, perhaps. Inkle. Coward! then follow me. [Noise again. [Aside. Trudge. Ah! there they go. [4 gun fired] That will be the last report 1) we shall ever Trudge! what a damned hole are you getting Trudge. I must, sir; I must! Ah Trudge, hear from 'em, I'm afraid. That's as much into! as to say, good by to ye. And here we are SCENE III.-A cave, decorated with skins left-two fine, full-grown babes in the wood! Inkle. What an ill-timed accident! just too, of wild beasts, feathers, etc. a rude kind when my speedy union with Narcissa, at of curtain, as door to an inner part. Barbadoes, would so much advance my interests. Enter INKLE and TRUDGE, from mouth of Something must be hit upon, and speedily; but what resource?
Trudge. Why, sir! you must be inad to
-'tis all go any farther.
Trudge. The old one-a tree, sir we have for it now. What would I give, Inkle. So far, at least, we have proceeded now, to be perched upon a high stool, with with safety. Ha! no bad specimen of savage our brown desk squeezed into the pit of my elegance. These ornaments would be worth stomach-scribbling away an old parchment!-something in England.—We have little to fear But all my red ink will be spilt by an old here, I hope: this cave rather bears the pleasing black pin of a negro.
A voyage over seas had not enter'd my head,
But the only sign here, is of nothing to eat.
Oho! I shall die a lost mutton!
Heigho! that I-for hunger should die!
For my bacon, I fancy, I never shall save.
face of a profitable adventure.
Trudge. Very likely, sir; but, for a pleasing face, it has the cursed'st ugly mouth I ever saw in my life. Now do, sir, make off as fast as you can. If we once get clear of the natives' houses, we have little to fear from the lions and leopards; for, by the appearance of their parlours, they seem to have killed all the wild beasts in the country; Now pray, do, my good master, take mý advice, and run away;
Inkle. Rascal! Talk again of going out, and I'll flea you alive.
Trudge. That's just what I expect for coming their skin stript over their cars; and ours will - All that enter here appear to have had be kept for curiosities-We shall stand here, stuffed, for a couple of white wonders.
apartment: I'll draw it.
Trudge. No, no, no, don't; don't. We may
Inkle. Peace, booby, and stand on your guard.
Trudge. Oh! what will become of us! some grim seven-foot fellow ready to scalp us. Inkle. By heaven! a woman!
[Yarico and Wowski, discovered asleep. Trudge. A woman! [Aside-loud] But let him come on; I'm ready-dam'me, I don't fear facing the devil himself—Faith, it is a woman— fast asleep, too.
Inkle. And beautiful as an angel!
Inkle. Scoundrel! is this a time to jest? Trudge. No, faith, sir! hunger is too sharp › be jested with. As for me, I shall starve or want of food. Now you may meet a ickier fate: you are able to extract the square nice, little, plump, bit in the corner; only Trudge. And, egad! there seems to be a >ot, sir; and that's the very best provision she's an angel of rather darker sort. Du can find here to live upon. But I! Noise at a distance] Mercy on us! here ey come again.
Inkle. Hush! keep back-she wakes.
Inkle. Confusion! deserted on one side, and
1) Report of a gun; and report, an account of any thing
[Yarico comes forward - Inkle and