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AN Old Man taught Wisdom;
OR, THE VIRGIN UNMASK'D.
A FARCE
As it is Perform'd By His MAJESTY's Company of Comedians at the
Theatre-Royal in Drury-Lane.
Dramatis Personæ.
Goodwill,
SCENE, A Hall in Goodwill's House in the Country.
SCENE, A Hall in Mr. Goodwill's House.
Goodwill solus.
Well! it is to me surprising, that out of the Multitudes who feel a
Pleasure in getting an Estate, few or none shou'd taste a Satisfaction
in bestowing it. Doubtless a good Man must have vast Delight in
rewarding Merit, nor will I believe it so difficult to be found. I am
at present, I thank Heav'n, and my own Industry, worth a good 10000
l. and an only Daughter; both which I have determin'd to give to
the most worthy of my poor Relations. The Transport I feel from the
Hope of making some honest Man happy, makes me amends for the many
weary Days, and sleepless Nights my Riches have cost me. The Girl I
have bred up under my own Eye; she has seen nothing, knows nothing,
and has consequently no Will but mine. I have no Reason to doubt her
Consent to whatever Choice I shall make.—How happily must my Old Age
slide away, between the Affection of an innocent and dutiful Child,
and the grateful Return I may
expect from a so much obliged Son-in-law! I am certainly the
happiest Man on Earth.
Enter Lucy.
Lucy.
Did you send for me, Papa?
Good.
Yes, come hither, Child. I have sent for you to mention an Affair
to you, which you, I believe, have not yet thought of
Lucy.
I hope it is not to send me to a Boarding-School, Papa.
Good.
I hope my Indulgence to you has been such, that you have Reason
to regard me as the best of Fathers. I am sure I have never deny'd you
any thing, but for your own Good: Indeed I have consulted nothing
else. It is that for which I have been toiling these many Years; for
which I have deny'd my self ev'ry Comfort in Life; and from which I
have, from renting a Farm of 500 a Year, amassed the Sum of 10000l.
Lucy.
I am afraid you are angry with me, Papa.
Good.
Be not frighten'd, my dear Child, you have done nothing to offend
me. But answer me one Question—What does my little Dear think of a
Husband?
Lucy.
A Husband, Papa! Ola!
Good.
Come, it is a Question a Girl in her Sixteenth Year may answer.
Shou'd you like to have a Husband, Lucy?
Lucy.
And am I to have a Coach?
Good.
No, no: What has that to do with a Husband?
Lucy.
Why you know, Papa, Sir John Wealthy's Daughter was
carry'd away in a Coach by her Husband; and I have been told by
several of our Neighbours, that I was to have a Coach when I was
marry'd. Indeed, I have dreamt of it a hundred hundred times. I never
dreamt of a Husband in my whole Life, that I did not dream of a Coach.
I have rid about in one all Night in my Sleep, and methought it was
the purest thing!—
Good.
Lock up a Girl as you will, I find, you cannot keep her from evil
Counsellors. [Aside.] I tell you, Child, you must have no Coach
with a Husband.
Lucy.
Then let me have one without a Husband.
Good.
What, had you rather have a Coach than a Husband?
Lucy.
Hum—I don't know that.—But, if you'll get me a Coach, let me
alone, I'll warrant I'll get me a Husband.
AIR I.
Thomas, I cannot.
Do you, Papa, but find a Coach,
And leave the other to me, Sir;
For that will make the Lover approach,
And I warrant we shan't disagree, Sir.
No Sparks will talk
To Girls that walk,
I've heard it, and I confide in't:
Do you then fix
My Coach and Six,
I warrant I get one to ride in't, to ride in't,
I warrant, &c. Good.
The Girl is out of her Wits, sure. Hussy! who put these Thoughts
into your Head? You shall have a good sober Husband, that will teach
you better things.
Lucy.
Ay, but I won't tho', if I can help it; for Miss Jenny
Flant-it says, a sober Husband is the worst sort of Husband in
the World.
Good.
I have a Mind to sound the Girl's Inclinations. Come hither,
Lucy; tell me now, of all the Men you ever saw, whom shou'd you
like best for a Husband?
Lucy.
O fy, Papa, I must not tell.
Good.
Yes, you may your Father.
Lucy.
No, Miss Jenny says I must not tell my Mind to any Man
whatever. She never tells a Word of Truth to her Father.
Good.
Miss Jenny is a wicked Girl, and you must not regard her.
Come, tell me the Truth, or I shall be angry.
Lucy.
Why then, of all the Men I ever saw in my whole Life-time, I like
Mr. Thomas, my Lord Bounce's Footman the best, a hundred
thousand times.
Good.
Oh, fy upon you! like a Footman?
Lucy.
A Footman! he looks a thousand times more like a Gentleman than
either Squire Foxchase or Squire Tankard, and talks more
like one, ay, and smells more like one too. His Head is so prettily
drest, done all down upon the top with Sugar, like a frosted Cake,
with three little Curls of each side, that you may see his Ears as
plain! and then, his Hair is done up behind just like a fine Lady's,
with a little little Hat, and a Pair of charming white Stockins, as
neat and as fine as any white-legg'd Fowl; and he always carries a
great swinging Stick in his Hand, as big as himself, that he wou'd
knock any Dog down with who was to offer to bite me. A Footman indeed!
why Miss Jenny likes him as well as I do, and she says all the
fine young Gentlemen that the Ladies in London are so fond of,
are just such Persons as he is.—Icod, I shou'd have had him before
now, but that Folks told me I shou'd have a Man with a Coach, and
that methinks I had rather have a great and a great deal.
Good.
I am amaz'd! But I abhor the mercenary Temper in the Girl, worse
than all.—What, Child, wou'd you have any one with a Coach? Wou'd
you have Mr. Achum?
Lucy.
Yes indeed, wou'd I, for a Coach.
Good.
Why, he is a Cripple, and can scarce walk across the Room.
Lucy.
What signifies that?
AIR II.
Wully Honey.
When he in a Coach can be carry'd,
What need has a Man to go?
That Women for Coaches are marry'd,
I'm not such a Child but I know.
But if the poor crippled Elf
In Coach be not able to roam,
Why then I can go by my self,
And he may e'en stay at home.
Enter Blister.
Blist.
Mr. Goodwill, your humble Servant. I have rid twelve long
Miles in little more than an Hour. I am glad to see you so well; I was
afraid by your Message—
Good.
That I had wanted your Advice, I suppose; but truly, Coz, I sent
for you on a better Account.—Lucy, this is a Relation of
yours, you have not seen a great while, my Cousin Blister, the
Apothecary.
Lucy.
O la! I hope that great huge Man is not to be my Husband.
Blist.
My Cousin is well grown, and looks healthy. What Apothecary do
you employ? He deals in good Drugs, I warrant him.
Good.
Plain wholesome Food and Exercise are what she deals in.
Blist.
Plain wholesome Food is very proper at some time of the Year,
with gentle Physick between whiles.
Good.
Leave us a little, my dear Lucy, I must talk with your
Cousin.
Lucy.
Yes, Papa, with all my Heart—I hope I shall never see that
great Thing again.
Good.
I believe you begin to wonder at my Message, and will perhaps
more, when you know the Occasion of it. In short, without more
Preface, I begin to find my self going out of the World, and my
Daughter very eager to come into it. I have therefore resolv'd to see
her settled without farther Delay. I am far from thinking vast Wealth
necessary to Happiness: Wherefore, as'I can give her a sufficient
Competency. I slave determined to marry her to one of my own
Relations. It will please me, that the Fruits of my Labour shou'd not
go out of the Family. I have sent to several of my Kinsmen, of whom
she shall take her Choice; and as you are the first here, if you like
my Proposal, you shall make the first Application.
Blist.
With all my Heart, Cousin; and I am very much oblig'd to you.
Your Daughter seems an agreeable young Woman, and I have no Aversion
to Marriage. But pray, why do you think your self going out of the
World? Proper Care might continue you in it a considerable while. Let
me feel your Pulse.
Good.
To oblige you; tho' I am in very good Health.
Blist.
A little feverish.—I wou'd advise you to lose a little Blood,
and take an Emulsion, with a gentle Emetick an Cathartick.
Good.
No, no, I will send my Daughter to you; but pray keep your
Physick to your self, dear Cousin.
Blist.
This Man is near Seventy, and, I have heard, never took any
Physick in his Life, and yet he looks as well as if he had been under
the Doctor's Hands all his Life-time. 'Tis strange; but if I marry his
Daughter, the sooner he dies, the better. It is an odd Whim of his to
marry her in this manner; but he is very rich, and so, so much the
better.—What a strange Dowdy 'tis! no Matter, her Fortune is never
the worse.
AIR III.
Round, round the Mill.
In Women we Beauty or Wit may admire;
Sing Trol, lerol.
But sure as we have them, as surely they'll tire;
Oh ho, will they so?
Abroad for these Dainties the Wise therefore roam,
Sing Trol lerol.
And frugally keep but a plain Dish at home;
Oh ho, do they so?
Who marries a Beauty, must hate her when old;
Sing Trol lerol.
But the older it grows, the more precious the Gold.
Oh ho, is it so?
Enter Lucy.
Oh, here comes my Mistress: What a Pox shall I say to her? I never made Love in my Life.
Lucy.
Papa has sent me hither; but if it was not for fear of a
Boarding-School, I am sure I wou'd not have come; but they say I
shall be whipt there, and a Husband can't whip me, let me do what I
will; that's one good thing.
Blist.
Won't you please to sit down, Cousin?
Lucy.
Yes, thank you, Sir.—Since I must stay with you I may as well
sit down as not.
Blist.
Pray, Cousin, how do you find your self?
Lucy.
Find my self?
Blist.
Yes, how do you do? Let me feel your Pulse. How do you sleep o'
Nights?
Lucy.
How? why upon my back, generally.
Blist.
But I mean, do you sleep without Interruption? are you not
restless?
Lucy.
I tumble and toss a good deal, sometimes.
Blist.
Hum! Pray how long do you usually sleep?
Lucy.
About ten or eleven Hours.
Blist.
Is your Stomach good? Do you eat with an Appetite? How often do
you find in a Day any Inclination to eat?
Lucy.
Why, a good many times; but I don't eat a great deal, unless it
be at Breakfast, Dinner, and Supper, and Afternoon's Nunchion.
Blist.
Hum! I find you have at present no absolute need of an
Apothecary.
Lucy.
I am glad to hear that, I wish he was gone with all my Heart.
Blist.
I suppose, Cousin, your Father has mentioned to you the Affair I
am come upon; may I hope you will comply with him, in making me the
happiest Man upon Earth?
Lucy.
You need not ask me, you know I must do what he bids me.
Blist.
May I then hope you will make me your Husband? Lucy.
I must do what he'll have me. Blist.
What makes you cry, Miss?
Pray tell me what is the matter. Lucy.
No, you will be angry with me, if I tell you Blist.
I Angry! It is not in my Pow'r, I can't be angry with you, I am
to be afraid of your Anger, not you of mine; I must not be angry with
you, whatever you do.
Lucy.
What must not you be angry, let me do what I will?
Blist.
No, my Dear.
Lucy.
Why then, by Goles! I will tell you—I hate you, and I can't
abide you.
Blist.
What have I done to deserve your Hate?
Lucy.
You have done nothing; but you are such a great ugly thing, I
can't bear to look at you; and if my Papa was to lock me up for a
Twelve-month, I shou'd hate you still.
Blist.
Did you not tell me just now, you wou'd make me your Husband?
Lucy.
Yes, so I will for all that.
AIR IV.
Now ponder well &c.
Ah be not angry, good dear Sir,
Nor do not tell Papa;
For tho' I can't abide you, Sir,
I'll marry you—O la.— Blist.
Well, my Dear, if you can't abide me, I can't help that, nor you
can't help it; and if you will not tell your Father, I assure you I
will not; besides my Dear, as for liking me, do not give your self any
trouble about that, it is the very best reason for marrying me; no
Lady now marries any one but whom she hates, hating one another is the
chief end of Matrimony. It is what most Couples do before they are
Marry'd, and all after it. I fancy you have not a right Notion of a
marry'd Life. I suppose you imagine we are to be fond, and kiss, and
hug one another as long as we live.
Lucy.
Why, an't we?
Blist.
Ha, ha, ha! an't we! no! How Ignorant it is! [Aside.]
Marrying is nothing but living in the same House together, and going
by the same Name; while I am following my Business, you will be
following your Pleasure; so that we shall rarely meet but at Meals,
and then we are to sit at opposite ends of the Table, and make Faces
at each other.
Lucy.
I shall like that prodigiously—ah, but there is one thing
tho'—an't we to lie together?
Blist.
A Fortnight, no longer.
Lucy.
A Fortnight! that's a long time: but it will be over.
Blist.
Ay, and then you may have any one else.
Lucy.
May I? then I'll have Mr. Thomas, by Goles! why this is
pure, la! they told me other Stories. I thought when I had been
marry'd, I must have never liked any one but my Husband, and that if I
shou'd, he wou'd kill me; bu I thought one thing tho' with my self,
that I cou'd like another Man without letting him know it, and then a
fig for him.
Blist.
Ay, ay, they tell Children strange Stories; I warrant they have
told you, you must be govern'd by your Husband.
Lucy.
My Papa tells me so.
Blist.
But all the married Women in England will tell you another
Story.
Lucy.
So they have already, for they say I must not be govern'd by a
Husband, and they say another thing too, that you will tell me one
Story before Marriage, and another afterwards, for that Marriage
alters a Man prodigiously.
Blist.
No, Child, I shall be just the same Creature I am now, unless in
one Circumstance; I shall have a huge pair of Horns upon my Head.
Lucy.
Shall you! that's pure, ha, ha, what a Comical figure you will
make! but how will you make 'em grow?
Blist.
It is you that will make 'em grow.
Lucy.
Shall I? By Goles! then I'll do't as soon as ever I can; for I
long to see 'em! do tell me how I shall do it.
Blist.
Ev'ry other Man you kiss, I shall have a pair of Horns grow.
Lucy.
By Goles, then, you shall have Horns enough; but I fancy you are
Jeering me.
AIR V.
Buff-Coat.
Ah Sir! I guess
You are a fibbing Creature. Blist.
Because, dear Miss,
You know not human Nature. Lucy.
Marry'd Men, I'll be sworn,
I have seen without Horn, Blist.
Ah Child! you want art to unlock it:
The Secret here lies,
Men now are so wise,
To carry their Horns in their Pocket.
Lucy.
But you shall wear yours on your Head, for I shall like 'em
better than any other thing about you.
Blist.
This Girl's Ignorance will make it easy to discover her; and if I
can recover a good round Sum of her Gallant, I shall not be uneasy
under my Cuckoldom.
AIR VI.
Bartholomew Fair.
The Jokers have said, that Men of my Trade
Sell Drugs so dear.
That by their Bills five hundred per Cent
They often clear:
But when the Gallant, takes what I don't want,
And pays for his Pains,
I'm sure ev'ry Man must own, that it's all clear Gains.
But when, &c.
Well then, Miss, I may depend upon you.
Lucy.
And may I depend upon you?
Blist.
Yes, my Dear.
Lucy.
Ah, but don't call me so; I hate you should call me so.
Blist.
Oh Child, all marry'd People call one another, my Dear, let 'em
hate one another as much as they will.
Lucy.
Do they? well then my Dear—hum, I think there is not any great
matter in the Word neither.
Blist.
Why, amongst your fine Gentry, there is scarce any meaning in any
thing they say.
AIR VII.
When our Wives deny
With all reason to Comply,
'Tis still with I can't, my dearest.
When, to seek another Mate,
We leave a Wife we hate,
'Tis still good-by my fairest.
The Courtier who intends
Ne'er to be among your Friends,
Cries, I'll serve you, honest Adam;
When we find our Wives are Whores,
Still we turn 'em out o'Doors,
With your humble Servant Madam.
Well, I'll go to your Papa, and tell him we have agreed upon
Matters, and have the Wedding instantly.
Lucy.
The sooner the better.
Blist.
Your Servant, my pretty Dear.
Lucy.
Your Servant, my Dear. Nasty, greasy, ugly Fellow. Well, Marriage
is a Charming thing tho', I long to be marry'd more than ever I did
for any thing in my life; since I am to govern, I'll warrant I'll do
it purely. By Goles, I'll make him know who is at Home—let me see,
I'll practise a little. Suppose that Chair was my Husband; and ecod by
all I can find, a Chair is as proper for a Husband as any thing else;
now says my Husband to me, how do you do, my Dear? Lard I my Dear, I
don't know how I I do! not the better for you; pray, my Dear, let us
Dine early to day. Indeed, my Dear, I can't—do you intend to go
abroad to day! No, my Dear: then you will stay at home; no my Dear;
shall we ride out? No, my Dear! shall we go a Visiting? No, my
Dear.—I will never do any thing I am bid, that I am resolv'd; and
then Mr. Thomas, oh good! I am out of my Wits.
AIR VIII.
Bessy Bell.
Lo, what swinging Lyes some People will tell!
I thought when another I'd wedded,
I must have bid poor Mr. Thomas farewell,
And none but my Husband have bedded.
But I find I'm deceiv'd, for as Michaelmas Day
Is still the fore-runner of Lammas,
So Wedding another is but the right way
To come at my dear Mr. Thomas.
Enter Coupee.
Heyday! What fine Gentleman is this?
Coup.
Cousin, your most obedient, and devoted humble Servant.
Lucy.
I find this is one of your fine Gentry, by his not having any
meaning in his Words.
Coup.
I have not the Honour to be known to you, Cousin; but your Father
has been so kind to give me Admission to your fair Hands.
Lucy.
G Gemini Cancer! what a fine Charming Man this is!
Coup.
My Name, Madam, is Coupee, and I have the Honour to be a
Dancing-Master.
Lucy.
And are you come to teach me to Dance?
Coup.
Yes, my Dear, I am come to teach you a very pretty Dance, did you
never learn to Dance?
Lucy.
No Sir, not I, only Mr. Thomas taught me, one, two, three.
Coup.
That is a very great Fault in your Education, and it will be a
great Happiness for you to amend it, by having a Dancing-Master for
your Husband.
Lucy.
Yes Sir, but I am not to have a Dancing-Master; my Papa says, I
am to have a nasty stinking Apothecary.
Coup.
Your Papa says! what signifies what your Papa says?
Lucy.
What must I not mind what my Papa says?
Coup.
No, no, you are to follow your own Inclinations—I think if she
has any Eyes, I may venture to trust 'em—your Father is a very
Comical, queer old Fellow, a very odd kind of a silly Fellow, and you
ought to laugh at him. I ask Pardon tho' for my Freedom.
Lucy.
You need not ask my Pardon, for I am not at all angry, for
between you and I, I think him as odd, queer a Fellow, as you can do
for your life. I hope you won't tell him what I say.
Coup.
I tell him! I hate him for his barbarous Usage of you, to lock up
a young Lady of Beauty, Wit and Spirit, without ever suffering her to
learn to Dance? why Madam, not learning to Dance, is absolute ruin to
a young Lady. I suppose he took care enough you shou'd learn to read.
Lucy.
Yes, I can read very well.
Coup.
Ay, there it is; all Parents take care to instruct their Children
in low mechanical things, while the genteel Sciences are neglected.
Forgive me, Madam, at least, if I throw my self at your Feet, and vow
never to rise till lifted up with the elevating fire of your Smiles.
Lucy.
Lard Sir, I don't know what to say to these fine things—he's a
pure Man. [Aside.]
Coup.
Might I hope to obtain the least spark of your Love, the least
spark, Madam, wou'd blow up a Flame in me, that nothing ever cou'd
quench. O hide those lovely Eyes, nor dart their fiery Rays upon me,
lest I am consumed—shall I hope you will think of me.
Lucy.
I shall think of you more than I will let you know.
Coup.
Will you not answer me?
Lucy.
La! You make me Blush so, I know not what to say.
Coup.
Ay, that is from not having learnt to Dance, a Dancing-Master
wou'd have cur'd her of that. Let me teach you what to say, that I
may hope you will condescend to make me your Husband.
Lucy.
No, I won't say that, but—
AIR IX.
Tweed Side.
O press me not, Sir, to be Wife
To a Man whom I never can hate;
So sweet a fine Gentleman's Life,
Shou'd never be sour'd with that Fate. But soon as I marry'd
have been,
Ungrateful I will not be nam'd;
Oh stay but a Fortnight, and then,
And then you shall—Oh, I'm asham'd. Coup.
A Fortnight! bid me live to the Age of—of— Mr.
What's-his-Name, the oldest Man that ever liv'd; live a Fortnight
after you are marry'd! No, unless you resolve to have me, I will
resolve to put an end to my self.
Lucy.
O do not do that, but indeed I never can hate you, and the
Apothecary says no Woman marries any Man she does not hate.
Coup.
Ha, ha, ha! Such mean Fellows as those ev'ry fine Lady must hate;
but when they marry fine Gentlemen, they love them as long as they
live.
Lucy.
O but I wou'd not have you think I love you. I assure you, I
don't love you; I have been told I must not tell any Man I love him. I
don't love you, indeed I don't.
Coup.
But may I not hope you will?
Lucy.
Lard Sir, I can't help what you hope; it is equal to me what you
hope. Miss Jenny says, I must always give my self Airs to a Man
I like.
Coup.
Hope, Madam, at least, you may allow me; the cruellest of your
Sex, the greatest Tyrants deny not hope.
Lucy.
No, I won't give you the least crumb of hope—hope indeed! what
do you take me for? I'll assure you! No, I wou'd not give you the
least bit of hope, tho' I was to see you die before my Face. It is a
pure thing to give ones self Airs.
Coup.
Since nothing but my Death will content you, you shall be
satisfy'd even at that Price.
[Pulls out his Kitt.]
Ha! Cursed Fate? I have no other Instrument of Death about me
than a Sword, which won't draw. But I have thought of a way; within
the Orchard, there is an Appletree; there, there, Madam! you shall see
me hanging by the Neck there.
AIR X.
Lass of Patty's Mill.
When you're like Bateman dead,
Your Ghost will come like him,
And take me out o'bed,
And tear me limb from limb.
If one then of the two
A Ghost or Man's my fate,
I'll go to Bed with you,
E'er out o' Bed with that.
La! Sir, you're so hasty—must I tell you the first time I see
you? Miss Jenny Flant-it has been courted these two Years by
half a dozen Men, and no body knows which she'll have yet, and must
not I be courted at all? I will be courted, indeed so I will.
Coup.
And so you shall, I will Court you after we are married.
Lucy.
But will you indeed?
Coup.
Yes indeed, but if I shou'd not, there are others enough that
wou'd.
Lucy.
But I did not think marry'd Women had ever been courted tho'.
Coup.
That is all owing to your not learning to Dance! why there are
abundance of Women who marry for no other reason, as there are several
Men who never Court any but marry'd Women.
Lucy.
Well then, I don't much care if I do marry you, but hold! There
is one thing—but that does not much signify.
Coup.
What is it, my Dear?
Lucy.
Only I promis'd the Apothecary just now; that's all.
Coup.
Well, shall I fly then, and put ev'ry thing in readiness?
Lucy.
Ay do, I'm ready.
Coup.
One kiss before I go, my dearest Angel, and now one, two, three
and away.
Lucy.
Oh dear, sweet Man! as handsome as an Angel, and as fine as a
Lord. He is handsomer than Mr. Thomas, and Icod! almost as well
drest. I see now why my Father wou'd never let me learn to Dance. For,
by Goles! if all Dancing-Masters be such fine Men as this, I wonder
ev'ry Woman does not Dance away with one. O la, now I think on't, he
pull'd out his fidling thing, and I did not ask him to play a Tune
upon't—but when we are marry'd, I'll make him play upon't; I'cod,
he shall teach me to Dance too—he shall play, and I'll Dance; that
will be pure.
AIR XI.
Polwarth on the Green.
What Virgin e'er wou'd marry
A nasty Apothecary,
Whose Presence makes
Each thing that she takes
As had as his Physick can be?
Give me the brisk Blade,
Who lives by a Trade,
Abounding with Frolick and Glee;
On his Kit he shall play,
And I'll dance all the Day,
One, two, three; one, two, three.
Hey! what's here? another Lover, I hope; the more the merrier, by
Goles!
Enter Bookish.
Book.
Unless my Instructions err, you are my Cousin Lucy.
Lucy.
So I was christen'd, Sir.
Book.
Why then, most probably you are she.—I suppose it wou'd be
needless to inform you of an Affair, wherein you are doubtless already
sufficiently instructed by your Parent the Purport of my Arrival here.
But as Custom wills, that a Declaration be made on the Male Side, I
shall, as briefly as may be, let you know that my Cousin Goodwill
hath signify'd to me his Intentions of a Match between us, which is
the Reason that hath drawn me hither from Oxford, and to which,
if you comply, I am ready to fulfil his Desire.
Lucy.
O la! this Man is worse than the Apothecary; I don't understand
one Word in three of what he says.
Book.
Cousin, I attend your Answer.
Lucy.
I don't know what to answer you; and while you ask me in such a
manner, I won't answer you at all. Why don't you throw your self at my
Feet, if you wou'd have me answer you? Other sort of People than you
have done it.
Book.
Cousin, you will not, I hope, pretend to inform me what People
have done; I know whole Nations have been Idolaters, but I shall not
therefore be one. I shall throw my self at no Woman's Feet, for I look
on my self as the Superior of the two.
Lucy.
What, do you think your self better than me?
Book.
Touching the Sex I do, most certainly.
Lucy.
And have you the Impudence to come a courting to me with such a
Speech in your Mouth, to me who have just
now had a fine Gentleman, a Dancing-Master, Sirrah, at my Feet?
Book.
He occurred to me at my Entrance, giving Offence at once to two
of my Senses; my Eyes were wounded by a Coxcomb, and my Nose by a
Stink.
Lucy.
What, do you call him a Coxcomb? that sweet fine Gentleman, a
Coxcomb?
Book.
We have many such sweet Gentlemen at the University, who, it is
pity, were not call'd to the same Employment, that they might be of
some Use to the Community, for a Beau can be apply'd to no better.
Lucy.
By Goles! I thought he was a Beau. Well, Heaven be prais'd, I
have liv'd to see a Beau. No Wonder Miss Jenny is so fond of
'em: And I shall have a Beau for a Husband at last, the very thing I
always wish'd and long'd for.
AIR XII.
Still he's the Man.
I never yet long'd for a thing in my Life,
Not even a Show,
So much as these two Years I've long'd to be Wife
To a dainty fine Beau.
The Ladies of London are sure in the right,
Who are all Day a dressing to get one at Night;
What Woman can ever say, No,
To a dainty fine Beau? Book.
The properest for you, truly, by what appears.
Lucy.
Why you nasty, dirty, ugly, slovenly thing, did you think I'd
have you? By Goles! I'd as soon have one of my
Father's Carters, ay, or his Cart Horses: Why, you are little
better than our Pig-Boy.
Book.
You are not many Degrees from a downright Ideot.
Lucy.
Augh! I hate you.
Book.
I cannot say that: But I—vehemently despise you.
AIR XIII.
Have you heard of a frolicksome Ditty.
Go marry what Blockhead you will, Miss,
By all that appears I'm afraid,
That terrible Clacker to still, Miss,
A Stick on your Back will be laid. Lucy
Go marry what Woman you may, Sir,
Remember what Lucy has said,
Your Wife, in a Fortnight, will lay, Sir,
A Pair of good Horns on your Head. Book.
You are, to say the Truth, a very idle, foolish Girl, and I
commiserate you.
Lucy.
You impudent Fellow! how dare you call me Names? If your Papa
suffers you to call me Names, I know those that won't, by Goles! I
wish I was a Man, I'd box your Eyes out. You ugly Thing, you! You
dirty Thing, you! You nasty, stinking Thing, you!
Book.
A perfect Xantippe!
Lucy.
Don't come out with your nasty hard Words here.— I won't speak
to you, nor I won't look at you, nor I won't have any thing to do with
you.
AIR XIV.
We've cheated the Parson.
I wou'd have you to know, you nasty Thing,
That sooner than have you, I'd hear my Knell;
Nay, rather than lead such an Ape in a String,
A Virgin I'd die, and lead Apes in Hell.
Nasty Thing,
Stinking Thing,
I'd die a Maid ere I'd have such a Thing. Book.
Be not terrify'd, I will not communicate with you any
longer.—Truly, I had rather live in the Tub of Diogenes,
than with the Wife of Socrates. Mr. Goodwill must be a
Block-head, or he wou'd not have sent a Man of Sense to talk with
such an Ideot.
Lucy.
I am glad he's gone. I had rather have one Beau, than fifty Men
of Sense.—I wish my dear Dancing-Master was come back again.—I
feel my self I don't know howish.— Lud! I never was so before in my
Life!—Heyho!—Lud! I am out of Breath, as if I had run from the
bottom of the Stairs to the top, without once stopping.—As sure as
can be, I am in Love; ay, that's it; I certainly am in Love.—By
Goles! it feels pure tho'.
AIR XV.
Ye Nymphs and Silvan Gods.
O all ye Powers above!
I feel my Heart to move,
Pit a pat, pit a pat,
Pit a pat, pit a pat.
O lud! I'm afraid I'm in Love,
Yet I scorn down to lie
Like a Child, and cry:
Since if Miss Jenny's right,
Love's a gentle Dart,
That tickles the Heart,
And tho' it gives us Smart,
Does Joys impart,
Which largely the Pains requite.
O la! what's here? another Beau.
Enter Quaver.
Quav.
Madam, your Servant. I suppose my Cousin Goodwill has told
you of the Happiness he designs you.
Lucy.
No, Sir, my Papa has not told me any thing about you. Who are
you, pray?
Quav.
I have the Honour of being a distant Relation of yours,
and I hope to be a nearer one. My Name is Quaver, Madam; I
have the Honour to teach some of the first Quality to sing.
Lucy.
And are you come to teach me to sing?
Quav.
I like her Desire to learn to sing, it is a Proof of an excellent
Understanding.—Yes; Madam, I will be proud to teach you any thing in
my Power; and do believe I shall not yield to any one in the Science
of Singing.
Lucy.
Well, and I shall be glad to learn; for I have been told, I have
a tolerable Voice, only I don't know the Notes.
Quav.
That, Madam, may be acquired, a Voice can not. A Voice must be
the Gift of Nature, and it is the greatest Gift Nature can bestow. All
other Perfections, without a Voice, are nothing at all. Musick is
allow'd by all wise Men to be the noblest of the Sciences; whoever
knows Musick, knows ev'ry thing.
Lucy.
Come then, do begin to teach me, for I long to learn.
Quav.
Hereafter I shall have time enough. But at present I have
something of a different Nature to say to you.
Lucy.
What have you to say?
AIR XVI.
Dimi Caro:
Dearest Charmer!
Will you then bid me tell
What you discern sa well,
By my expiring Sighs,
My doating Eyes,
My doating Eyes?
Look thro' th' instructive Grove,
Each Object prompts to Love;
See how the Turtles play,
Each Object prompts to Love;
All Nature tells you what I'd say. Lucy.
Oh charming! delightful!
Quav.
May I hope you'll grant—
Lucy.
Another Song, and I'll do any thing.
Quav.
Dearest Creature,
Pride of Nature!
All your Glances
Give me Trances.
Dearest, &c. Lucy.
Oh, I melt, I faint, I swoon, I die!
Quav.
May I hope you'll be mine?
Lucy.
Will you charm me so every Day?
Quav.
And ev'ry Night too, my Angel.
Enter Coupee.
Coup.
Heyday! what do I see? my Mistress in another Man's Arms? Sir,
will you do me the Favour to tell me what Business you have with that
Lady?
Quav.
Pray, Sir, be so good as to tell me what Business you have to
ask.
Coup.
Sir!
Quav.
Sir!
Coup.
Sir, this Lady is my Mistress.
Quav.
I beg to be excus'd for that, Sir.
Coup.
Sir!
Quav.
Sir!
AIR XVII.
Of all the simple things, &c.
Coup.
Excuse me, Sir; Zounds, what d'ye mean?
I hope you don't give me the Lye. Quav.
Sir, you mistake me quite and clean,
Indeed, good Sir, not I. Coup.
Zounds, Sir, if you had, I'ad been mad,
But I'm very glad that you don't. Quav.
Do you challenge me, Sir? Coup.
Not I, indeed, Sir. Quav.
Indeed, Sir, I'm very glad on't. Lucy.
Pray, Gentlemen, what's the Matter? I beseech you speak to me,
one of you.
Coup.
Have I not Reason? Did I not find you in his Arms?
Quav.
And have I not Reason? Did he not say you was his Mistress, to my
Face?
AIR XVIII.
Molly Mog.
Lucy.
Did Mortal e'er see two such Fools?
For nothing they're going to fight;
I begin to find Men are but Tools,
And both with a Whisper I'll bite.
With you I am ready to go, Sir,
I'll give t'other Fool a Rebuff;
[To Coupee.
Stay you but a Fortnight, or so, Sir,
I warrant I'll grant you enough.
[To Quaver.
Quav.
Damnation!
Coup.
Hell and Confusion!
Enter Blister.
Blist.
For Heaven's sake, Gentlemen! what's the Matter? I profess I am
afraid you are both disorder'd. Pray, Sir, give me leave to handle
your Pulse; I wish you are not light-headed.
Coup.
What is it to you, Sir, what I am?
Quav.
How dare you interfere between Gentlemen, Sirrah?
Coup.
I have a great Mind to break my Sword about your Head, you Dog.
Quav.
I have a great Mind to run you thro' the Body, you Rascal.
Coup.
Do you know who we are?
Quav.
Ay, ay, do you know whom you have to do with?
Blist.
Dear Gentlemen, pray Gentlemen.—I wish I had nothing to do with
you; I meant no Harm.
Coup.
So much the worse, Sirrah; so much the worse.
Quav.
Do you know what it is to anger Gentlemen?
Enter Goodwill.
Good.
Heyday! what, are you fencing here, Gentlemen?
Blist.
Fencing, Quotha? they have almost fenced me out of my Senses, I
am sure.
Coup.
I shall take another time.
Quav.
And so shall I.
Good.
I hope there is no Anger between you. You are nearer Relations
than you imagine to each other.—Mr. Quaver, you was sent out
of England young; and you, Mr. Coupee, have liv'd all
your Life-time in London; but I assure you, you are
Cousin-Germans; let me introduce you to each other.
Coup.
Dear Cousin Quaver.
Quav.
Dear Cousin Coupee.
Blist.
It's but a Blow and a Kiss with these Sparks, I find.
Coup.
I thought there was something about him I cou'd not hurt.
Good.
Here is another Relation too, whom you do not know. This is Mr.
Blister, Son to your Uncle Blister the Apothecary.
Coup.
I hope you will Excuse our Ignorance.
Good.
Yes, Cousin, with all my Heart, since there is no Harm come on't;
but if you will take my Advice, you shall both immediately lose some
Blood, and I will order each of you a gentle Purge.
Enter Wormwood.
Worm.
Your Servant, Cousin Goodwill! How do you do, Master
Coupee? How do you do, Master Blister? The Roads are very
dirty, but I obey your Summons, you see.
Good.
Mr. Quaver, this is your Cousin Wormwood, the
Attorney.
Worm.
I am very glad to see you, Sir. I suppose by so many of our
Relations being assembled, this is a Family Law-suit I am come upon. I
shall be glad to have my Instructions as soon as possible, for I must
carry away some of your Neighbours Goods with Executions, by and by.
Good.
I sent for you on the Account of no Law-Suit this time. In short,
I have resolv'd to dispose of my Daughter to one of my Relations, if
you like her, Cousin Wormwood, with 10000l, and you
shou'd happen to be her Choice—
Blist.
That's impossible, for she has promis'd me already.
Coup.
And me.
Quav.
And me.
Worm.
How! has she promis'd three of you? why then, the two that miss
her, will have very good Actions against him that has her.
Good.
Her own Choice must determine; and if that fall on you, Mr.
Blister, I must insist on your leaving off your Trade, and living
here with me.
Blist.
No, Sir, I cannot consent to leave off my Trade.
Good.
Pray, Gentlemen, is not the Request reasonable?
All.
Oh, certainly, certainly.
Coup.
Ten thousand Pounds to an Apothecary, indeed!
Quav.
Not leave off his Trade?
Coup.
If I had been an Apothecary, I believe I shou'd not have made
many Words.
Good.
I dare swear you will not, Cousin, if she shou'd make choice of
you.
Coup.
There is some Difference tho' between us; mine is a genteel
Profession, and I shall not leave it off on any Account.
Good.
I'll be judg'd by Mr. Quaver here, who has been abroad and
seen the World.
Quav.
Very reasonable, very reasonable.—This Man, I see, has
excellent Sense, and can distinguish between Arts and Sciences.
Good.
I am confident it wou'd not be easy to prevail on you to continue
the ridiculous Art of teaching People to sing.
Quav.
Ridiculous Art of teaching to Sing! Do you call Musick an Art,
which is the noblest of all Sciences? I thought you a Man of Sense,
but I find—
Coup.
And I find too.
Blist.
And so do I.
Worm.
Well, it is surprising that Men shou'd be such Fools,
that they shou'd hesitate at leaving off their Professions for
10000l.
Good.
Cousin Wormwood, you will leave off your Practice, I am
sure.
Worm.
Indeed, Sir, but I will not. I hope you don't put me upon a
Footing with Fidlers and Dancing-Masters. No Man need be asham'd of
marrying his Daughter to a Practitioner of the Law. What wou'd you do
without Lawyers? Who'd know his own Property?
Blist.
Or without Physicians, who'd know when he was well?
Coup.
If it was not for Dancing-Masters, Men might as well walk upon
their Heads as their Heels.
Quav.
And if it was not for Singing-Masters, they might as well have
been all born dumb.
Enter Bookish.
Good.
Heav'n be prais'd, here comes a Man of Sense, who will, I
warrant, quit his Fellowship at the first Word, for my
Daughter.—Cousin Bookish, I am glad you are come, you have
seen my Daughter, I hope.
Book.
Yes, I have seen her, and without Flattery, a most contemptible
Creature she is.
All.
Ha, ha, ha!
Good.
How! how!
Book.
I can scarce allow her the Appellation of Animal rationale.
She agrees well with Aristole's Definition of Animal inplume
bipes. In fine, such an Animal never occurr'd to me before.
Good.
You are all a Set of intolerable Coxcombs, and I will give my
Daughter to none of you.
Blist.
I shall have her, I believe, without your Consent.
Quav.
I shall whistle her away without your Leave.
Coup.
How little he guesses that I shall dance off with her within this
Half-hour!
Good.
Ha! Confusion! what do I see! my Daughter in the Hands of that
Fellow!
Enter Lucy and Mr. Thomas.
Lucy.
Pray, Papa, give me your Blessing. I hope you won't be angry with
me, but I am marry'd to Mr. Thomas.
Tho.
I am afraid the Cloth I wear will be no Recommendation to me; but
you may take off that Scandal. I assure you,
my Family, which I will not now disown, intitled me to a better
Station of Life, nor has my Education been as mean as my present
Condition.
Good.
Oh Lucy, Lucy! is this the Return you make to my Fatherly
Fondness?
Lucy.
Dear Papa, forgive me, I won't do so any more.—Indeed I should
have been perjured, if I had not had him.—And I had not had him
neither, but that he met me when I was frighten'd, and did not know
what I did.
Good.
To marry a Footman?
Tho.
Why look ye, Sir, I am a Footman, 'tis true, but I have good
Acquaintance in Life. I have kept very good Company at the
Hazard-Table; and when I have other Cloaths on and Money in my Pocket,
the Quality will be very glad to see me again.
Worm.
Hark ye, Mr. Goodwill, your Daughter is an Heiress. I'll
put you in a way to prosecute this Fellow.
Blist.
Did you not promise me, Madam?
Coup.
Ay, did you not promise me, Madam?
Quav.
And me too?
Lucy.
You have none of you any Reason to Complain; if I did promise you
all, I promis'd him first.
Worm.
Look ye, Gentlemen, if any of you will employ me, I'll undertake
we shall recover part of her Fortune.
Book.
I think the Woman has chose the properest Husband for her, for I
confide she can't read.
Quav.
If you had giv'n your Daughter a good Education, and let her
learnt Musick, it wou'd have put softer things into her Head.
Blist.
This comes of your Contempt of Physick. If she had been kept in a
Diet, with a little gentle Bleeding, and Purging, and Vomiting, and
Blistering, this had never happen'd.
Worm.
You shou'd have sent her to Town a Term or two, and taken
Lodgings for her near the Temple, that she might have conversed
with the young Gentlemen of the Law, and seen the World.
AIR XIX.
Bush of Boon.
Lucy.
Oh dear Papa! don't look so grum;
Forgive me and be good:
For tho' he's not so great as some,
He still is Flesh and Blood.
What tho' he's not so fine as Beaus,
In Gold and Silver gay;
Yet he, perhaps, without their Cloaths,
May have more Charms than they. Tho.
Your Daughter has marry'd a Man of some Learning, and one who has
seen a little of the World, and who by his Love to her, and Obedience
to you, will try to deserve your Favours. As for my having worn a
Livery, let not that grieve you; as I have liv'd in a great Family, I
have seen that no one is respected for what he is, but for what he
has; the World pays no regard at present to any thing but Money, and
if my own Industry shou'd add to your Fortune, so as to entitle any of
my Posterity to Grandeur, it will be no reason against making my Son
or Grandson a Lord, that his Father or Grandfather was a Footman.
Good.
Ha! Thou talk'st like a pretty sensible Fellow, and I don't know
whether my Daughter has not made a better choice, than she cou'd have
done among her Booby Relations. I shall
suspend my Judgment at present, and pass it hereafter; according
to your behaviour.
Tho.
I will try to deserve it shou'd be in my Favour.
Worm.
I hope, Cousin, you don't expect I shou'd lose my time. I expect
Six and Eight Pence for my Journey.
Good.
Thy Profession, I see, has made a Knave of whom Nature meant a
Fool. Well, henceforth I am resolv'd to indulge my self in all
innocent and moderate Satisfactions, and laugh at my former Folly, and
that of others, who think when they have rais'd a Fortune, they shall
have any Happiness in bestowing it; since their finding one worthy to
inherit it, is a greater Accident, and a greater Blessing, than the
Fortune it self. What a Comfort must it be to a Man to think, while
he is amassing Riches, that the Reward of all his Labour and Care, and
Self-denial will be.