The Town Before You By Hannah Cowley

THE

UNIVERSITY

WARWICK

LIBRARY

The Gift of

fr\rs C, . F

RE YOU,

THEATRE -ROYAL, COVENT- GARDEN.

Br Mrs . C 0 W L E Y.

PRINTED BY G. WOODFALL,

FOR T. N. LONGMAN, PAT ERN05TER »ROW#

I f f

Mrs. FRUSHARD,

CAL CUT TA.

aiugjgi

Mad am,

1 Seldom write Dedications. Whenever

I have written one, it has been from an

•

impulfe of veneration, or of tender grati¬ tude. The Belle’s Stratagem I de¬ dicated to her Majejly\ The Town Before You is dedicated to you.

The virtues which you pradlife in your elegant pavilions at Gass ary, have

A 3 reach’d

DEDICATION,

reach’d the Britifli Ihores. Their reputa¬ tion now echoes back again to thofe of the Ganges; and I would perfuade myfelf that I may be the caufe of extending it ftill farther. Yes, I would hope that this humble pen may fpeak to thofe of after times, and tell them that you quietly per¬ form fuch a£ts of graceful goodnefs, as open a thoufand mouths in your praife, whilft you perfuade yourfelf that all is fecret, and that no one finds you out to be more amiable and refpedted, than the’ generality of h uman creatures.

This felf deception is a little help’d on, by him, * to whom of all earthly beings you me bound to look up. He aids your charming impofitions — he ajjifts you in fl-inS fetters of gratitude on all around .you, and then perfuades himfelf and you, that Heaven alone is privy to the deed. Lti; \ ou could not hope always to go on

DEDICATION.

Vll

iii this fort of concealment — at length you

I am unable to meafure the extent of my private obligations to you; but may this public acknowledgement of them con¬ vince you that they throb in my heart, and that I muft be

Ever,

Madam,

Your faithfully devoted,

H. COWLEY.

A 4

PRE-

PREFACE.

T H E following is rather the Comedy which the Public have chofen it to be, than the Comedy which I intended. Some things have been left out, and fome have been added fince the firft reprefentation : In fhort, the Comedy has been ntw clffs’d—~lt has been torn from its genus.

It is hoped, however, that there may be found cha¬ racters, in The Town Before You, to intereft, and fituations to attach; and that thofe events which were vivacity ip the Theatre, will not be dulnefs ir\ the clofet.

But it muff be noticed, that the feene, in the fecond a£t, between Tippy and his Landlady, and that in the fifth aCI, between Tippy and the Bailiff, were no part of. my original defign. They were written during the illnefs of Mrs. Pope, after the Piece had been played feveral nights. Alas ! I am lorry to remark, that no feenes in. the Comedy (to ufe the Stage idiom) go off better* . *

PREFACE.

An acute Critic lately faid, in one of thofe aflemblies where converfation, though fometimes light, is feldom without meaning, tc A Comedy to pleafe, in the prefent day, mult be madey not written It requires no great expanfe of comprehenfion to perceive the meaning of this dogma ; the truth of which I am equally ready to acknowledge, and to deplore: But fhould it want illus¬ tration, it may be found every week in a popular Piece, where a great Adlor, holding a fword in his left hand, and making aukward pulhes with it, charms the audience infinitely more than he could do, by all the wit and obfervation which the ingenious Author might have given him; and brings down fuch applaufes, as the bewitching dialogue of Cibber, and of Far- Quhar pants for in vain !

The patient developement of character, the repeated touches which colour it up to Nature, and fwell it into identity and exigence (and which gave celebrity to Congreve), we have now no relifh for. The com¬ binations of intereft, the ftrokes which are meant to’ reach the heart, we are equally incapable of tailing. Laugh! Laugh ! Laugh ! is the demand: Not a word mull be uttered that looks like inflrudion, or a fentence which ought to be remembered.

From a Stage, in fuch a ftate, it is time to with- diaw; but I call on my younger cotemporaries, I in¬ voke the rifing generation, to correct a tafte which,

to be gratified, demands neither genius or intellect ; _

which afks only a happy knack at inventing trick. I adjure them to reft ore to the Drama sense, obser¬ vation,

PREFACE.

va’tion, wit, lesson ! and to teach our Writers to refpect their own talents.

What mother can now lead her daughters to the great National School, the I heatre, in the confi¬ dence of their receiving either poliih or improvement ? Should the iucklefs Bard {tumble on a reflection, or a fentiment, the audience yawn, and wait for the next tumble from a chair, or a tripping up of the heels, to put them into attention. Surely I ftiali be forgiven foi fatirifing myfell ; I have made luch things, and I blufh to have made them.

O ! Genius of a polifh’d age, defeend ! - plant thy

banners incur 1 heatres, and bid elegance and feel¬ ing take place of the droll and the laugh , which formerly were found only in the Bootns of Bartlemy b air, and were divided between Flocton and Tates ! With actors capable of giving force to all that is intellectual, is it not pity to condemn them to fuch drudgery? 1 hey are no longer necefiary. Let Sadler’s Wells and the Circus empty themfelves of their performers tofurniih our Stage; the expence to Managers will be Its, and their buftnefs will be carried on better, the understanding, discernment, and education, which diftinguifh our modern actors, are ufelefs to them ; — ft rong mufcles are in greater repute, and grimace has more powerful attraction.

PROLOGUE.

I •

*•

PROLOGUE,

Mrs. MATTOCKS.

Ah! ah ! you’re here, and comfortably tight?

Well fqueez’d and prefs’d, I fee— from left to right, Waiting the moment when the curtain nfes,

Gafping for plots, adventures, and furprifes !

Were I a Poet — a Dramatic Wit,

And by the Stage Tarantula were bit.

My Prologue fhou’d, as was the good old way,

A word or two upon the fubjctt fay\

Hint a loofe outline of the fcene within.

And let you guefs the whole ere we begin.

In prefent times, the Prologue and its Play,

Are as near kin as Michaelmas and May—

Confin’d, then, not to fay a word of that ,

I’ll tell a dory— and I have one pat.

A Boniface of late, placed near his door.

Good larders here, of genuine wines, rich dore, 3 In gold the gaudy invitation hung,

And to the fhifting Zephyrs gently fwung.

It chanc’d a traveller, with ftomach keen.

Leapt from his Rozinante, tir’d arid lean.

Talk’d of his fupper, with an eager air —

Refolved, for once, in no expence to fpare ;

I’ll have dewed carp, he cried, and chicken road. And, bring me, of the Burgundy you boad.

y _ e— s, Sir, the daring, curtfying Damfel faid,

And, in a trice, the table-cloth was laid.

J am my own man, he adds, in accents bold,

PPvOLOCUE.

Nor fhall I fear, to-night, my houfehold fcold ;

One hundred miles, betwixt me and my dear —

Odds bobs ! her llirill alarum can’t reach here !

At length came back the pretty, fimpering Kate,

And plac’d — two eggs upon his lonely plate.

Our Traveller amazed, the Landlord call’d,

Holt ! Hoft ! in angry accents loudly bawi’d ;

He came — Where are your ducks, your lobfters, turkey,

hare ?

“ Why, there you have them — in the Bill of Fare ; i( There you have game, and fowl, and fifh, well dreft.. And neat old Port, to give the whole a zeft ;

“ My houfe affords no other. Sir, believe me,

“ I fcorns, I’m hire, to go for to deceive ye.”

The gueft fatigued, enraged, the Inn forfook,

And the road, flowly, to another took:

There, without promife, all was neat and clean.

His food was wholefome, and his room not mean.

So — not to raife high hopes, we cannot meet.

We truft this night’s plain fare is frefh and fweet ;

And fhou’d you like the drefling, we invite ye.

To come as often as the difti delights ye ;

A hearty welcome you will always find,

And to your wills, our Hoft, and Houfe, refign’d.

PERSONS

PERSONS OF THE DRAMA.

Tippy . . . Mr. Lewi*.

Fan court . . . . . Mr. Munden .

Conway . ‘ . Mr. Holman.

Asgill . ““Mr. Pope.

Sir Robert Floyer . Mr. Quick.

Sir Simon AsgiliA . Mr. Powell.

Humphrey . Mr. Fawcett.

Perkins . Mr. Hull.

Slop seller . Mr. Thompfon.

Buckram . Mr. William/on.

Holdfast . Mr. Crofs.

Sir Robert’s Servant . * . Mr. Simmons.

\ -

Lady Horatia Horton . Mrs. Pope.

Georgina . Mifs Wallis.

Mrs. Fan court . . Mrs. Mattocks.

Lady Charlotte . Mifs Chapman .

Jenny . Mrs. Martyr.

Mrs. Bull rush . Mifs Stuart.

Lady Horatia’sServant . Mifs Leferve.

THE

THE TOWN BEFORE YOU,

O O M E D

A C T L

Scene I. — A plain Apartment, with a few Books .

Fancourt fits reading — Mrs. Fan court at work at feme diftance .

Fancourt.

How well thofe fellows wrote, thole an- tients ! How finely they fatirize the rich, and what refped they have for virtue in rags ! My dear, I will translate the pafifage— -off hand now, d’ye hear, offhand! (rifes and reads )

*Cf Poliarchus, the rich Athenian, wantoning in “ gluttony, looks with contempt on the poor *< Callander : Caffander repofing on his bed of “ ftraw, thanks the Gods that he has health “ and virtue i and prays to be preferved from <f the misfortune of being rich, like Poliarchus, *£ whofe floors are ftained with the wine of drunkennefs, and whofe filver couch is con- *f ftantly crowded ty phyficians.”

Mrs . Fancourt. Are you fure that is a juft

tranflation, Mr. Fancourt ?

B Mr .

i THE TOWN BEFORE YOU,

Mr. Fancourt . What, Madam, do you doubt my knowledge of Greek! Some people can hardly read Englifh at fight; I can tranflate at fight, thanks to the milk I fuck’d in at Oxford. Dodtor Johnfon and I, were both Oxford men.

. — I like to read that old Quiz, he was fo fond of us Oxford fellows. But he had too much refpedt for riches — he liked rich people.

Mrs. Fancourt. To fay truth, I have a little - of his way of thinking. I had never much refpedt towards thofe Philofophers who are always throwing farcafms on the rich —

Fancourt . (interrupting) I do maintain. Ma¬ dam, that the rich are the vileft —

Mrs. Fancourt. Gome, come, Mr. Fancourt, your extravagancies have rendered you poor, and therefore you are always raving thus, and pouring your philipics on people of fortune; — as though vice and folly could only be found in palaces, and virtue in garrets.

Fancourt. Hey day ! Why Ma’am — why — Mrs. Fancourt. For my part, I believe there is as much goodnefs amongft perfons of fortune, as amongft the poor — and I do not fee why the power of d re fling elegantly, and living in well educated fociety, fliould debafe the heart, or weaken the underflanding.

Fancourt. You do not fee ! why you are the greateft — the moil abominable — upon my foul, you are the mofl provoking fool that ever — Mrs. Fancourt. My dear Sir, 1 do not doubt it — you have repeated thefe opinions too often for me not to be convinced of their juftice. But really now, .between ourfelves ( rijing and laying down her work) as opinion is nothing

without

A COMEDY.

without example, I will take the liberty to quote ydurfelf in fupport of mine.

Fancourt. Me ! quote me !

Mrs. Fancourt. Even your great and mighty felf ! Mr. Fancourt, when I married you, you were -not poor-— not 10 poor as you are now; and I think at that time you had no particular vices; but as diffipation has brought poverty upon you, I have obferved that by little and little your Fiallow virtues have difappeared,

till— …. . . ,

Fancourt. (impatiently) ’Till what?

Mrs. Fancourt. Till you are capable of al- moft any adtion that will not endanger your neck. Nay, I no longer mind your threaten¬ ing looks — I am fo convinced of what I have faid, that my heart feels horror.

Fancourt. TU make it feel fomething elfe.

Mrs. Fancourt. Y ou cannot. All other power over my heart is over; you can afflid it no more! But obferve my .deduction. I date you to yourfelf as a proof that poverty is fometimes the fource of wickednels ; and that fqualid wretchednefs is as capable ofdebafmg the heart, as affluence and fplendor.

Fancourt. Very well, woman! very well! Fill the noife of that child there — ( going to tbs door) what an odious fqualing it keeps !

Mrs. Fancourt. It is not eafy, Mr. Fancourt, to Fill the noife of children who are hungry. Though they are the children of the firft Mrs. Fancourt, it pierces my heart to hear them — why will you not do fomething to get bread for

them ?. . k

Fancourt. What would you have me do ? I was not bred to Fand behind a counter, nor

B 2 to

4 THE TOWN BEFORE YOU,

to cry fC Chairs to mend” in the ffreets. You know all that — what did you marry me for?

Mrs. Fancourt. Alas ! becaufe I loved you. The fweetneis of your manners difguifed the emptinefs of your heart., and I romantically thought- that poverty could never be an evil, when tw<y hearts fondly jhared its difficulties. But now^ — permit me to afk, why you married me?

Fancourt. Becaufe you had a modicum of a fortune — a fcore of hundreds : and I had not fo many Shillings.

Mrs. Fancourt. That little modicum might have been a bank, if properly managed, and — «■ Fancourt. Pffiaw! — fluff! I hate fuch cant. What do you want ?

Enter a female Servant.

Servant. A perfon left this parcel. Sir, and faid there was no anfwer. [Exit.

Fancourt. Such abominable cant ! ( untying the up parcel) I am as tired of it as I ufed to be of my Grandmother’s fpelling through Hannah Glafs’s Art of Cookery, and I believe in my confcience ■ — the devil ! here is gold !

Mrs. Fancourt. Gold !

Fancourt. Keep off — you are too good, too pure, to want fuch vile tralh. Twenty guineas by Jupiter — ah, ah! (Jhaking the purfe.)

Mrs. Fancourt. Here is a note dropt (takes it up ana reads) v< Accept this purfe. Sir, from one who is forry to fee fuch merit in confined (c circumftances, and who was charmed with “ your delicate manner of revealing it.

Fancourt. Who is it figned by?

Mrs.

A COMEDY.

Mrs. Fancourt. Robert Floyer.

Fane our t. Ay, Sir Robert bloyer, a btie Ok Welchman, who got himfelf made Sheriff*, then, u Knight — thofe two dignities generally follow, like the Old Bailey and a whipping. I made the old blockhead believe that I was deeply verfed in Welch antiquities— that Snowden was once a burning mountain, and that the Ap Morgans and Ap Shonefes were lineally defender from King Priam. You fee I know how to turn my wits to account — I can make money,

though I can’t make fhoes.

Mrs. Fancourt. Yes, and you fe.e theie is genefofity where there is no poverty ; and that but for the beneficence of a man ox fortune, a rich man, your children to-day wou d nave

wanted a dinner. # .

Fancourt. Pfha! what merit is there in thu generofity of a rich man! a fellow who takes out a handful of guineas from his ftore as you would dip a bucket into a wrell ? give rr}e virtue of the poor man who divides his laft fffilling — his laft two-pence with his friend ; who takes his pint of porter from his thirfey lips, and fhares it with his poorer neighbour.

Mrs , Fancourt . Ah, here is your poor filter —I will go and receive her — you can now affift her diftreffes— what pleafure it will give you! ^ Fancourt. None of your documents -if fhe is in diftrefs, let her pawn her fuperfluities, as other poor people do. (going out.) There is fome difference between lharing one’s laft two¬ pence with a friend, and one s laft twenty guineas. {Exit.

{Mrs, Fancourt goes out on the oppojife Jide%

with an air of abhorrence .

B 3 SCENE

THE TOWN BEFORE YOU,

SCENE II. — A Square .

Enter Humphrey (Je arching his pockets ).

Humphrey . Rot et, here be three caerds or noates, or what the devil they be, left after all. Dang et, I have delivered feventeen — all the way from Manchefter-fquare to Petty France ; from there to Bifhopfgate-ilreet after fweet- meats for Mils, and then to the Hay-market about the- pianny forty. Hang me if I doant make dead men of thefe ( tear mg the notes ) i oead men tell no tales. The people they were for, will never know their lols. I can fay I found nobody at hoam ; ha, ha, ha ! that was amoail the firft word I larn’d, when I come to

Lunnun - “ Not at hoam, Sir.” Dad ! the

gentry here have the cheapeft way of entertain¬ ing their friends ; it doesn’t coft above a dozen or two lies a day to keep acquaintance with

great quality. Hey ! did you fpeak to me, Sir r

Buckram enters.

Buckram . Yes, my lad* - Tray which is Sir

Robert Floyer’s ?

Humphrey. Which is — (bur ft mg into a laugh) What, don’t you know Sir Robert’s ? Why, dir Robert is as well known in Wales as the Monument in Lunnun, or my Lord Mayor in ins *plt coach. ;

Buckram. Very likely: But which is his houfe in this flreet ?

Hum-

A COMEDY.

Humphrey. Why this houfe to be lure (takes off his hat ). Why I live we’en. Pray, Sir, what may be your bufinefs we’en ?

Buckram. 1 am the young lady’s ftaymaker .

Humphrey. Staymaker ! (puts on his hat) why,

I took you for a curnel, or a coptain, or^ a great knight belonging to a prince, or fome at of that fort. Why, your coate is amoaft the colour of fcarlet. Aye, I know why that be ——you think to pafs for one of thofe. brave fel¬ lows who go over fea to fight for their country, and, i’faith, its pity but you fhou d !

Buckram . Prithee let your young lady know that I am here. I am recommended by Lady Horatia Horton ; I work for all the ladies of fine tafte in town.

Humphrey. Fine teafte ! Dad ! we cut this mornin0- for breakfaft the fineft pork griikin I ever teafted in my life. Come with me down the eary fteps, and I’ll give ye a bit with fiefh muftard that fhall put your teafte in tune or the whole day. [ Exeunt .

SCENE — An elegant Apartment ( within ).

Enter Sir Robert, followed by a Servant.

Sir Robert (looking out). Humphrey ! Hum¬ phrey ! Where can this loitering rafcal flay ? So you found Mr. Fancourt’s houfe ?

Servant. Yes, Sir; in one of the retired

ftreets near Bloomfbury ? f

Sir Robert . Well, 1 am glad I fent hirn thofe few o-uineas. Fan court feems to be a Ld of merit ; and when he opened his diftreffes to me,

B 4 he

THE TOWN BEFORE YOU,

he did it in fuch a delicate, model!: way \ He is an excellent companion, and he has a pretty tafte for antiquities - -I like antiquities.

Servant. So I guefs’d, Sir, by the vaft quan - tity of old worm-eaten furniture you have at home, which you never make any ufe of, but to fhew to Grangers. All from the old caflles be¬ longing to your forefathers. Sir, I take it ?

Sir Robert. Yes, all from my forefathers caf¬ tles. Hum (afide). My grandfather was the fil’d: man of his family who ever went to bed, or got up his own mailer.

Servant. Two or three rooms of precious rotten furniture, Sir, give people a notion of the antiquity of your family ( archly ).

Sir Robert ( afide). I believe the dog has found

me out - -it was for that very reafon I bought

it. You may remember, David, the year that 1 was fneriff — I fay that year in which I was high fheriff for the county, — Ho— here comes Humphrey.

Enter Humphrey.

Where have you been, you loitering, weft- country booby, thefe three hours ?

Humphrey. Three hours ! Why, Sir, Tis my belief you wou’d have loitered fix hours, if

you had ieen what I nave feen, and heard what I have heard.

Sir Robert. What had; thou feen and heard ?

Humphrey. Why, in my way to Bifiiopfgate- itreet, I fiiw folks go into that old fafhioned houfe, where Gog and and Magog Hand up to

guard the mince-pies, whilfl the Lord Mayor dines. ’ * J

Sip

A COMEDY.

Sir Robert. Guildhall.

Humphrey. Yes, Gilthall — it is all over gilt and finery. So I follow’d a gemman into a great chamber, and there — O, my eyes ! there I faw beautiful angels coming down through the clouds, on purpofe to hold up the glafs candlefticks, thus (ftr etching out his arm).

Sir Robert (JeriouJly ). Gad ! 1 lhou’d like to fee them.

Humphrey. And the gemmen were debating. Yes — O ! my ears ! I heard a city debate, and they called one another Mr. Deputy — and one of them, with a fine red double chin, got up and faid, £f I am forry to differ from Mr. cc Deputy (f peaking gruffly) \ but I contend that fc thefe innovations bode no good to our con- “ ftitutions. The hour for dining, fince my “ time, was two ; it has been three, four, and (c fix ; and 1 fufpedt fhortly it may be eight — £C hum ! I move, therefore, that a petition be

cc prefented to the Lord Mayor - hum — •

ff hum—’?

On which a little fquinting gentleman rofe, and faid (in a jhrill quick voice ), (c I fupport <f the worthy Deputy who fpoke laft. Thefe 5C late hours are ruinous to the body cor- <c porate. On Lord Mayor’s Day we dined fo <c late, that when I v/ent afterwards to Fifh- iC monger’s-hall to J upper , the turbots were fc gone, nay, the fecond courfe was demoliflied, ec the fweetmeats were pocketed, and nothing <c remained but cheefe and pickles.”

Sir Robert. You are a pickle ! Get out — here is a great lady coming — get out of her way — go ! • [ Exit. Humphrey.

Enter

THE TOWN BEFORE YOU,

Enter Lady Charlotte,

What, Madam, is your Ladyfhip going ? Has not my daughter had the honour to fee you. Lady Charlotte ?

Lady Charlotte. Yes ; and I have left her with a perfon of much greater confequence — fhe is in deep confultation with her milliner. To a ’ girl of eighteen, Sir Robert, a milliner is of as much importance as an aid-du-camp to a general. I knew my durance when fhe en¬ tered, and immediately took leave — Pray, Sir, order my chair ( to the firfi Jervant , who goes off).

Sir Robert . Madam, forgive me, if, before you go, I juft plump one queflion. What do you think of Mr. Conway ?

Lady Charlotte. Ha, ha, ha ! Think of Mr. Conway ? That he has all the advantages which belong to fafhion, without its vices. He has certainly fome vanity, but more good fenfe. His friends are well chofen ; he admires beauty ; he loves goodnefs ; and there is a young lady — ( archly ) Adieu, Sir Robert I Your anxiety about Mr. Conway I perfectly underhand, and I hope you are fatisfied. [Exit.

Sir Robert (bowing repeatedly ) . What a thing it is to have a lady of quality fo familiar with one !

Georgina enters haftily , followed by Jenny.

Well, Georgina, what nowr ? What now ?

Georgina . O, papa ! look at this cap — did you ever fee fo bewitching a thing ?

Sir Robert , Pho ! you little fool !

Georgina ,

A COMEDY.

Georgina . Look at this bow — look at the tip of this fcarlet feather! Here, Jenny, put it away, with great care.

Jenny. Care , indeed ( ajide ) ; it is pity my talents have not better employment than taking care of feathers, and wiping band-boxes. [Exit.

Georgina. Good bye, papa ; I am going to Lady Horatia Horton’s. I do love to go there. And what do you think I long to be ? I long to be a fculptor !

Sir Robert. I don’t underhand ye.

Georgina. O ! Lady Horatia does look fo charmingly whilft at her labours ; her fweet white hands appear like the very marble fhe is at work upon.

Sir Robert. Did I hear right ? At work upon marble ?

Georgina. Blefs me ! “Why did I never tell you before that fhe is a fculptor? She has a large room full of fine things of her own work. O dear ! I wifh fhe wou’d teach me her art ; I could fpend my life amidfb fine ftatues. But pray, papa, when am I to be prefented ! I am not in town till I am prefented.

Sir Robert. Not in town !

Georgina. Nay, indeed, its true ; Lady Char¬ lotte told me fo. I can’t go any where in pub¬ lic, nor be fpoken to by a fingle creature, till 1 have been prefented : 1 am not come out till then.

Sir Robert. Not come out ! Biefs me, Geor¬ gina, my dear, why then Saint James’s has its flang as well as Saint Giles’s.

Georgina. Yes, to be fure it has ; and we muft make hafle and get the Jiang , or they will

find

THE TOWN BEFORE YOU,

find us out to be mere bumpkins. When fhall I be prefented ?

Sir Robert . Have patience. I am come to town about a little bufinefs of that fort myfelr. Perhaps we fhall be prefented together.

Georgina. How, ha, ha, ha! prefented to¬ gether ! Was ever fuch a thing heard of? Mils and her papa prefented together! Then did you never come out till now, papa ?

Sir Robert. Pfhaw ! mine is quite d different bufinefs. If I am put into a great office, I muft be prefented in courfe.

Georgina. Why, what are you going to be ?

Sir Robert. That I cannot tell.

Georgina. If they give you your choice, pray be a duke. O ! how I fhou’d doat on your being a duke !

Sir Robert. Why ?

Georgina. Then I fhou’d be a lady — Lady Georgina — delightful ! Lady Georgina’s name fhould fly about the town as though it were made with wings to it.

Sir Robert. Nonfenfe ! You a duke’s daugh¬ ter, indeed ! A pretty figure you’d make as a duke’s daughter !

Georgina. Figure ! Where the difficulty ? I can do it exactly — you fhall fee now — When I was laft at Lady Horatia Horton’s, acountefs from the Opera came in, thus (finding acrojs , and fitting down abruptly ) — Blefs me. Lady Horatia, how con’d you be at home to-night ? I gal-

J O O

lopp’d fixty miles to-day, have kill’d one coach-horfe, and lpoiled another, merely to Hear the Bant! — O ! the Banti !

Sir Robert. The bantling! why, whofe bant¬ ling was it f

Georgina \

A COMEDY.

Georgina . O! her upper tones!— and, O ! her under tones! whilft fhe was flying from B to

C, hanging upon G, running into cantabile fron^E, and finking down by juit gradations to

D, the whole houfe were magnetized — I faw a general faint — a minifter of ftate take out his lmelling bottle, and a prince of the blood blew his nofe.

Sir Robert. Blew his nofe ! very affe&ing in¬ deed! and countefles are charming creatures. But, dear Georgina, the warmth of thy ima¬ gination would dilturb my peace, did not thy extreme giddinefs prevent its fattening on any one obie£t for more than ten minutes together. Hah ! take care of thyfelf, my dear Georgina, thou art treading upon men-traps and fpring- guns. Thy paths, though feemingly covered with flowers, are full of thorns, prickles, and adders.

Georgina. Thorns, prickles, and adders! law. Papa, why people never feem to feel them, and I dare fay I fhall dance over them as lightly as my neighbours. [Exit.

Sir Robert. Yes, Dissipation! thou art the enemy of female honour. It is on thy accurfed altar that the peace of the wife, the repofe of the hufband, and the welfare of whole families, are continually offer’d up. O! fhield my child. (lifting up his eyes and hands ) from the corrup¬ tion of Dissipation ! [Exit.

SCENE — Asgill’s Lodgings.

Conway enters , preceded by a Servant ,

Servant. My matter is engaged, Sir, but I will acquaint him that you are here. [Exit.

Fancourt

THE TOWN BEFORE YOU,

Fan court runs in.

Fancourt. Hah, Conway, I faw you come in* fo I follow’d you up — I know you are at hc^e in Afeiil’s lodgings.

Conway . Are you acquainted with Mr. Afgill.

Fancourt. No 5 notwithftanding he keeps good company, and is nephew to a rich old Sir Simon in the City, who between loans and lum- ber, makes money falter than he tells lies ! but there are an odd fort of three corner’d mortals one can never clofs with — they prefent a point at every turn ; you may as eafily come into contact with a porcupine. I know all the people in town except himfelf, and I came in on purpofe to alk you to make* us inti¬ mate. t f -

Conway. That will be impoflible. Pray Fancourt, how do you get acquainted with every body, for — let me fay it in a whifper — your reputation is not of the very fir ft water. ( not whifpering. )

Fancourt. Pho! what men are diamonds in the way of reputation? French pafte does as well, and one is not fo much afraid to damage it. If I were fuch a fellow as you, with a charadier of the true water, I fhould be in eternal anxiety -—never dare to turn to the right or the left — fearful of a lpeck here, of a flaw there ; as it is, I brufh on through the world — my F rench pafle makes a fhew, and if I lole it — why I lofe a thing of no value. •

Conway. Amazing !

Fancourt. Hang me if I would be trou¬ bled with a firft rate charadler, any more than with a firft rate beauty — it would only

create

A COMEDY.

create envy, and my friends would never reft ’till they had robb’d me of it.

Conway . O ! that talents fhould be thus en- lifted inttie fervice of vice.

Fancourt. That I fwear you learnt from our old one-jeyed Pro6tor of Brazen Nofe — I re¬ member the very words; I have heard them fifty times whilit I flood on his blind fide. O ! that a man fhould thus live on the fcraps of others all his life, and never dare coin a prin¬ ciple for himfelf! So, you won’t introduce me to Afgill ? (Conway fo akes his head) very well — very well — I’ll introduce myfelf to an Arch- bifhop before I am a week older, and get my¬ felf made a Prebend in revenge.

[Exit.

Enter Asgill.

Conway . Afgill, I am come to difengage my¬ felf from the .hunt ; I cannot be with you to¬ morrow.

Afgill. Very well — 1 fhall not enquire your reafons; nor fhall I pretend to guefs that there is a little Welch Diana in the way of the hunt— you have not feen her I dare fwear.

Conway. Be not fo daring — I have feen her; but I have only feen her. She is as wild as one of the kids on her father’s mountains.

Afgill . Where have you met with her ?

Conway. At Lady Horatio Horton’s; but her volatility is fo great, that it wou’d be as eafy to catch quickfilver.

Afgill. I cannot fay I think fc — fhe does not want life ; but it is the fweet penfivenefs of her character- that charms me — a thoufand graces

hang-

THE TOWN BEFORE YOU,

1 6

hang about penfivenefs which mere animal (pints deftroy.

Conway. I have not feeil her in that humour.

Ajgill. And then her fine tafte.

Comedy. Her tafte is as fine as other people’s I dare fwear ; but ftie will bear a little polifh.

Ajgill. She bear polifh — ha, ha, ha .r where will you find fuch a mind, fuch an under- flan ding?

Conway. 1 have no doubt of its native excel¬ lence, and I hope to have the pleafure of im¬ proving it.

Ajgill. You! what do you mean, Sir? of whom are you (peaking ?

Conway. Of whom do you- (peak?

AjgilL Of Lady Horatia Horton — did you not name her ?

Conway. Ha, ha, ha ! fo this is confidence by chance ! dear Afgill, I have blundered on your fecret very undeftgnedly — I was (peaking of the daughter of Sir Robert Floyer,

AJgill. But you mentioned Lady Horatia ; and the moment her idea is prefented to me, every other is (wallowed up. O ! Conway, fhe engroftes my whole foul — to fee her is blifs, and the found of her voice is rapture.

Conway. Heyday!

Aj’gill. You have the fecret ‘by chance; but you are welcome to it, and I am prepared for all your j efts on my pafiion for a woman who is devoted to fculpture.

Conway. Faith, I perceive no room for jefts. I think it muft be charming to fee a fine wo¬ man fit with a chiftel, and bring cut of a block of marble, a form as graceful as her own ; every feature glowing with animation beneath

2 her

A COMEDY.

)ier eye, and every ftroke of the mallet warm¬ ing the cold mafs into mind and exprellion.

Afgill. (fmiling and catching his hand), 1 thank you ; but your eulogy is not compleat, for the purity of my Horatia chaftifes the art fhe loves. The fab] efts (lie feiefts, Delicacy itfelf would paint out : with an enchanting modefty fhe feeks” lor models only in the graces of her own lex, the daughters of Britain, and the matrons of Greece.

Conway, Very well: but you are a Son of Britain — -does Lady Horatia -

AfgilL (eagerly). Yes — no — I can not tell. She treats roe with rigour, yet I think her heart has paftion. I fometimes fancy I fee it fhine like the fun in November — unwillingly, and by ftarts.

Conway . Why do you not lead to an ex¬ planation.

AfgilL I cannot ; for fhe is rich, and I am as you know, dependent on the will of an Uncle.

Conway. He. has the reputation of being a Crcefus.

AfgilL True; but a fortune, whofe balls is commerce, may be doubled, or dilfolved in a month.

Conway. Well. Pray for me, my dear Afgill, that I may catch my little W elch fawn ; I have no prayers, to make for you ; for I perceive your’s is one of thofe fober paflions, that, end as it may, your mind will keep its equilibrium. O ! how delightful it muft be to love with fo much good fenfe. [Exit, laughing .

Afgill. O! how he miftakes! it is in fouls like mine that love rages with all his fury.

C The

1 8 THE TOWN BEFORE YOU,

The gay, the volatile, can fcarcely maintain z pa (lion ; but in the ferious and refleCtive mind, love raifes a defpotic throne, and, like the burning lun of Africa, he pours his chiefeft ardors upon (laves.

Enter Perkins.

Perkins! how now! your looks alarm me. What news from the City ?

Perkins. O ! Sir !

AfgilU My good friend, fpeak. You very much diftrefs me. Something is amifs.

Perkins. Would I could fay your fears were

unfounded. Something is amifs - your

Uncle - -

Jfgill. Nay, fpeak at once ! I can bear any thing rather, than fufpence.

Perkins, Then fummon all your fortitude ! your Uncle, the good Sir Simon, has fent me to tell you that — he — is — undone.

Afgill . Oh! ( pr effing his forehead with his hand) undone ! did you fay lb, Perkins ? did you ?

Perkins. The misfortunes which have fhaken the trade of Europe have at laft reached him. l ie who lately ranked on Change a two hun¬ dred thoufand pound man, may not, when his creditors are fatisfied, be able to com¬ mand one thoufand pound.

Afgill. ( after a diftrefsful filenee). Your news is heavy, very heavy! leave me, dear Perkins l l want to ruminate on my misfortunes alone.

[Exit. Perkins.

( Throws himfelf into a chair ). My worthy, my unhappy Uncle! the tide of affliction muft roll

heavy

A COMEDY.

heavy on him. ( Arijes after a panfe). It is determined — I fee Lady Horatia no more. No — never more — (fighing deeply) never fhall her delicacy be infulted by feeing a beggar court her to his arms. (Walks backwards and forwards J. But what can I do ? bred to no pro- fefflon, knowing nothing; ignorant of every art by which independence, or even bread may be obtained ; I am thrown a vagabond upon the world. O! my too indulgent Uncle, when you fent me to Cambridge, had you placed me, rather, in a counting-houfe, I might now have been in a fituation to have foften’d all your afflictions — inftead of which — O, horror 1 my foul fickens — my head is dizzy — I fink, to death. [ Goes off reding.

£ND OF THE FIRST ACT*

J i far \

C 2

ACT

THE TOWN BEFORE YOU,

ACT II.

SCENE I. — A Lodging Houfe .

Tippy walks haftily acrofs the ft age, and ahnoft goes off— Mrs. Bullrush follows him,

Mrs . Bullrujh (hawling) Nay, Mr. Tippy — ftay, Sir, you fhall hear — you fhall hear me.

( Groans and pits a handkerchief to her mouth.)

Tippy (turning). Shall hear ; — why how the devil can I avoid it ? a pound of cotton ftufFd into my ears would not keep out the found* — I wonder you can open your mouth fo wide, with fuch a pain in it.

Mrs. Bullrujh. Aye — between my tooth-ache and you, I am almoft mad. Sir, I tell you plainly I do not like your goings on, and I de¬ fire you to quit my lodgings.

Tippy ( chucking her chin ). Not for the world ; for then I muft opluyou, my dear, good humour¬ ed, quiet Mrs. Bullrufh.

Mrs. Bullrujh . None of your jeers. I don’t like the fort of company you keep (groaning).

Tippy. That’s odd ; for my friends are of all forts and complexions.

Mrs. Bullrujh. And of all characters too, I be¬ lieve. They feem moft of them to be men who live by their wits.

Tippy. Yes;—- 1 like to have my wits about me.

Mrs. Bullrujh. And, Sir, you have been in my lodgings fourteen weeks, and I have never yet feen the colour of your money..

Tippy.

A COMEDY.

Tippy, No! — that’s a reproach lam afham’d of — you fhall make it no more ( takes out apurfe> and pours gold into his hand). There — bright yellow gold as ever came from the mint — does not the colour charm ye (jhe attempts to J hatch it). Good morning I [Exit.

Mrs. BullruJJj. Nay, this is too bad— flop-— (lop ! [Runs after him with her handkerchief up .

SCENE JI. — St. James’s Street . — the Palace ,

Fruit Shop , &c.

Fan court is dip over ed in the fruit-floop, talking to the miftrefs , and eating fruit. He looks through the window .

FancGurt. The fun always brings out butter¬ flies — a fine fhew of women to-day. (Tippy walks acrofs). Tippy — Tippy— hey!

Tippy . Who is fo familiar with my name ? (lookinground ), Hah ! Fancourt — I have not feen you thefe fix months — are you engaged there ? Fancourt. No — I’ll come to you.

Tippy . The fellow looks as well as ever; I wonder what he’s upon now ( Fancourt comes from the fhop ). Well, my boy— how goes the world ?

Fancourt . How goes the world — round, I fuppofe; for its inhabitants feem ail giddy — where have you been fince we parted at Bath?

Tippy , Bath ? that was a twelvemonth fince, I have been in a thoufand fhapes, and a thou- fand places fince then. The laft was Italy.

Fancourt . Italy! how the devil could you get there ? was you bear driver ? I mean did you hold the leading firings of fome pretty Matter, running the tour f

C j ‘Tippy,

THE TOWN BEFORE YOU,

‘Tippy. How I got there you may know here-, after j but there I have been. Zounds, man, T learnt to be a critic there — I talk of flatues and intaglios — of bulls and medallions — I find fault where ever I go — my judgment is afked — my

fatire is feared— I am ccurte’d and hated - O i

its a glorious thing to be a critic.

Fancourt. Why you don’t pretend that you are really a connoiffeur ?

Tippy . I pretend to any thing that w II either get me into a dining parlour, or a wine cellar. I pronounce on Paintings and Tokay — on Statues and Old Hock ; I know exadlly the grapes from which the one was preffed, and the age in which the other was chiffell’d— pfha 1 man, there requires little to be a connoiffeur, but impudence.

Fancourt. Well — But how do you live—* plainly — hew do you eat ?

Tippy. For the lafl three months I have eat on the flrong likenefs I bear to Lord Beechgrove.

Fancourt. The refemblance is aflonifhing-^ they call you his polygraph.

Tippy. You are miflaken. They call his Lordfhip my polygraph.

Fancourt. I Hand corre&ed. But how have you lived on this refemblance, has he, taken you up for the fake of the likenefs ?

Tippy. Taken me up! you are curfl unlucky in your phrafes to-day. No, no — he has been ufeful to me without his knowledge : for inflance, I pafs’d one night through Portland Place, and faw a great route. I dafh’d into the hall, curfing the crowd of carriages which prevented my chariot from coming up. The porter in- ftantly knew me; gave my name — and Lord

Beech-

A COMEDY.

Beechgrove refounded all the way up the ftairs. The lady of the houfe received me ; placed me immediately at a Loo table, and in two hours I brought off two hundred guineas.

Fancourt . Lucky rafcal !

Tippy. I lately walk’d down to Barnet; took a chaife and four, and bade them whifk me to the Royal Hotel, Pall-Mall. Away we flaih d; roads all mud— horfes plunging— poft-boys cutting • meafured Finchley Common in feven- teen minutes, ten feconds. Rode over a Imoak- ino’ Common Councilman at the Adam an

Eve _ run in at Tottenham Court Road, and

came neatly up ( making p oft illi on-like motions ).

Fancourt. Ha, ha, ha! . .

Tippy. The waiters recognized my Lordihip, gave me the belt apartments, the very rooms the Turkifh Ambaffador had, and there I lived in firft ftyle; no epicure — never chofe more than five things at table ; drank Champaigne : in ten days took my leave to vifit my Cumber¬ land eftate, and ordered the bill to be ready

againft mv return,

Fancourt. Gad, I advife you to take his Lord- fhip up, and fwear that he’s an impoflcr you may then enjoy his Cumberland eftate.

Tippy. I have taken a fancy to an eftate m another county ; a better fcheme, my boy (flapping him on the jhouUer ), A plan which fometimes forces me to take ftielter, like Her¬ cules, under the difguife of a petticoat. Yes, like him, I exchange my club for a dittany or like Achilles, transform my furtout to a sauze robe, and my waiftcoat to a lace tucker.

Fancourt. Hah — high examples! Come, te

me- - No, defer ! defer ! here comes a lovely

C 4 Welch

TOE TOWN BEFORE YOU,

Welch girl, whole father I fometimes do the honour to call upon.

Georgina enters from Pall-mall , followed by

Humphrey.

Georgina. O ! dear Mr. Fancourt, how do you do ? Nay, do not Hop me. I hate to Hand in the Rreet, people Rare at one fo.

Fancourt. For that very reafon you do not hate to Rand in the Rreet. What is beauty good for, if it is not to be looked at ?

^ Tippy (afide). Oh, ho — now I find where¬ about you are. I know more of this family than you guefs at, mon ami.

Humphrey. Whilfi thefe gentlemen are talk¬ ing to Mils, I’ll Rep in here for a hap’eth of apples. ( goes into the fruit-fop.)

Fancourt. How came you here without your carriage ?

Georgina. It is fo charming a morning that I bid it follow me from Pall-mall, where°I have been fhopping. Nay, I beg you let me pafs. Blels me ! where is my fervant ? (looking round) I am going to Lady Horatia Horton’s on the moR particular bufinefs in the world. (Humphrey burfis cut of the fhcp ).

Humphrey. O ! fuch extortioning ! fuch cheatei y ! -I never heard the like — I wonder the\ aie not afraid to Rand in their fiioes.

Georgina. Vv hat is the matter, Humphrey ?

Humphrey. Mifs, as I hope to be— I did but juR pop into my mouth a little bit of a peach

twere no bigger than a walnut — it went do wn at a gulp like a pill — and they have made me pay a frilling for it.

. ‘ Georgina ,

A COMEDY.

Georgina. Why, how could you think of going into fuch a {hop ?

Humphrey . Such a {hop ! why not ? A {hop’s a {hop, if honeft people did but keep it, and as tree for me as another.

Georgina . Follow me-^I am alhamed of the noile you make. [Exit.

Humphrey. A {hilling ! Upon my fay To if— aye. I’ll mark you, never fear, (following).

Tippy. She’s a lovely girl ! an heirefs ? I’ll pretend ignorance for the prefent ( ajide ).

Fancourt. She is — we’ll fpeak of that hereafter. Her father is coming towards us from the Park. Now her father is a rich old fool, and we are two wits. Folly has been the natural food of wit, fince the fun firfl threw his burning glance upon mankind.

Tippy. I underhand ye — But I’ll lend no af-

fihance unlefs we halve it — remember that - -

halves or nothing.

Fancourt. Why, to be fu re.

Tippy. Are you upon honour ?

Fancourt. To the laft breath — The old fool — hang it — he is no fool neither. In ten words, for here he comes, he was of ufe on a late ele&ion, and the parliament -man ( fn coring ) ad- vifed him to come up to town to receive ac-^ knowledgments from the minifter. He was afraid to leave his daughter behind, fo wifely jhro ught her up.

Enter Sir Robert Floyer.

(Running towards him.) My dear. Sir, how I rejoice to fee you ! I call’d at your houfe to return thanks for the great -

the town before you.

Sir Robert . O ! not a word, not a word, Mr. Fancourt. Silence will oblige me -

Fancourt. Permit me. Sir Robert, to make you known to my Lord Beechgrove.

Sir Robert. Lord Beechgrove (whijpcring) $ Is he not a near relation of the Duke of -

Fancourt. Firft coufin, and his molt parti¬ cular advifer.

Sir Robert . My Lord, I am your Lordfhip’s very obedient, very humble fervant.

Tippy. Sir Robert, I am rejoiced to fee you. We have long look’d for you in town. 1 have heard you much fpoken of at a certain table. We know our friends , Sir Robert. Pray, Mr. Fancourt, bring Sir Robert to dine with me. I am forry to leave you, but it is a cabi¬ net morning, and the concerns of Europe, you. know, muft not be negle&ed. Adieu ! [Exit.

Sir Robert . That’s right — never negleft bu- finefs. O ! I wifh all the peers were like this peerlefs peer. Ay, there he goes into the Pa¬ lace, I fee. Mr. Fancourt, I am prodigioufly obliged to you for making me known to his lordlhip. Is he a man of large fortune ?

Fancourt. Yes ; but a little out at prefent. It is amazing what vaft fums he has expended for the public. He was juft alking me if I knew any honeft man who could lend him a thoufand pounds. He could have ten times that of the Jews — But he hates the Jews — O I he has never any dealings with the Jews.

Sir Robert. Perfedtly right.

Fancourt. O ! I always fay, my lord, what¬ ever you do, borrow money of the Chriftians — always borrow of the Chriftians. He only wants it for a month, juft till quarter-day.

5 Sir

A COMEDY.

Sir Robert, its an opportunity now< — he has amazing intereft — a Tingle fentence, whilft he is fwailowing a glafs of Burgundy, would do your bufinefs.

Sir Robert. Indeed ! Whilft he is fwaliow- ing a glals of Burgundy ?

Fancourt. I’ll fhew you now. This is my glafs ( holding up his glove , formed like a glafs). you jfhall be the great man j we’ll fuppole his name to be Snapper, and I am Lord Beech- grove. Come, Snapper, cc here’s to the girl we love!” (ftps) Ifty, Snapper, we muft do fomething for that Welch knight ; he who was HoerifF there t’other day -

Sir Robert (interrupting) . High (he riff for the county.

Fancourt . Pardon me ! High fheriff for the county (ftps ). He is the faddeft old rafcal ( Sir Robert flares) ; he (ftps) is the greateft enemy we have in the principality.

Sir Robert (in a paffion ). Why, Sir, what do you mean ? They never had fuch a friend 5 I lpent more money to favour the caufe than I care to own. I was for ever on horfeback ; there was not a cottager who could influence the fixteenth coufln of a voter, whom I did not en¬ tertain 5 and the fa£t is, it was folely owing to me -

Fancourt . What, do you take me to be fuch a ninny as to plead your fervices. You are a mere chicken ! Liften. I fay, Snapper, wre muft have him on our fide (ftps). The old fcoundrel killed his fet of coach greys, and fifteen nags in riding about the country to oppofe us (ftps ). He is a great fool, but he is related to all jthe ap Morgans , and the ap Shonefes in three cpun-

THE TOWN BEFORE YOU,

ties. In fhort, we muft have him — fo here goes— « the girl we love [” Thus, I fwallow the girl, he fwallows the hint, and the bufinefs is done. Will you lend me the thoufand pounds ?

Sir Robert. I will — I underftand ; this is what you call kicking a man up Hairs,

Fancourt. Only for a month.

Sir Robert. Nay, if it is for fix weeks. I fhail not Hand upon a fortnight.

Fancourt. Thus it is to deal with men of generoftty.

Sir Robert. Call upon me after dinner. I am hurried juft now ; our member lives in the next ftreet, and I am going to him ; but ITI write a draft on my banker for the thoufand pounds againft you call. O ! I like to oblige a lord, [Exit.

Fancourt. Well, now to him who is rich in expedients, of what confequence is being pen- nylefs ? Let grofs, plodding fpirits dig and labour 3 it is ours to gather the fruit. [Exit.

SCENE — -Lady Hqratia’s Drawing-room.

Enter Humphrey, with Georgina’s drefs hang¬ ing on his arm ; Maid meets him .

Humphrey. Here, I have brought this odd garment for Mifs. What is fhe going to do. with it? •

Maid. I can’t tell.

Humphrey. Could a body fee that fine place they talk about, where Madam makes men and women all in marble.

Maid. Perhaps you may get a peep at it. There is company there at prefent. It is called a fchool.

Hum-*

A COMEDY.

Humphrey. School ! Zooks, I am glad to hear great folks go to fchool. Some ot them, mayhap, may larn better manners. [Exit.

SCENE— A large , elegant Apartment , with va¬ rious Pieces of Sculpture , Statues , Urns , &V.

Charlotte walks down from the top , viewing the ftatues.

Lady Charlotte : This is, indeed, a fchool ! Here are copies of all that is valuable in the art lhe loves. Ah, the lovely artift herlelf.

Enter Lady Horatia.

Lady Horatia. Dear Lady Charlotte, 1 re¬ joice to lee you. They did not tell me you were here.

Charlotte. I have been here a long while ; de¬ lighting myfelf with your charming works. But how fuTl of labour is the amufcment you have chofen ?

Lady Horatia . I do not find it fo.

Lady Charlotte . So different from fafhionable life.

Lady Horatia . O ! the labour of a fafhion¬ able life wou’d kill me ; I fhould fink under it. Chipping marble is playing with feathers compared to that.

Lady Charlotte. How fo ?

Lady Horatia. The difcipline of a life in fa- fhion is by no means of the mildeft fort ( fmi - ling). Confider, for inftance, the necefiary vi¬ gils and abftinence of a gamefter. It is expe¬ dient

THE TOWN BEFORE YOU,

dient that die works hard and lives fparingly t for if fhe does not keep her fpirits perfedUy cool, inftead of cheating her friend, her friend may cheat her*.’ My labours are lefs and morel innocent than hers.

Lady Charlotte . O ! I perceive you will be able to defend yourfelf.

Lady Horatia . In the next place reflect on the toils of a determined beauty. Whether lire wakes or fleeps ; whatever lire does, whereever fhe goes, it is all with relation to the one great objedfc which enoTofles her meditations. * After hours wafted, murder’d, in the hard work of the toi¬ lette, away fire fprings l Her wheels thunder rapidly through the ftreets — fire flies from af- fembly, to aflenrbly. Does the mufic of the concert fafcinate her ? No* Does polifh’d converfation intereft her ? No. Some other beauty has been the belle of the evening $ her heart has been torn with envy ; fire returns home ; drags off her ornaments in difguft, and • throws herfelf on a fleeplefs bed in anguifh. Are my labours lefs pardonable than hers ?

Lady Charlotte . You will be too hard for me in argument, fo I drop your ftatues, to talk of yourfelf. Something, I fee, is wrong. ‘What is it ? ( tenderly ) Come, be explicit— You will not fpeak ! In plain language, when did you fee Mr. Afgill ?

Lady Horatia. Not this week — no — not for a whole week ! I will conceal nothing from you. I find now that my tendernefs more than equals his. I have no joy left — the chiflfel

This refle&ion is copied, pretty nearly, from the elegant Dodor Horne,

drops

A COMEDY.

‘3*

drops from my hand, the marble block is no longer moulded into flefli, my tafte has no em¬ ployment, and my heart is breaking.

Lady Charlotte. How do you account for his .able nee ? a

Lady Horatia. Tired with my haughty coldnefs, he has forfaken me. I die with jealoufy and felf- reproach. He has found an object more amia¬ ble and more tender. I knew he loved me, and I gloried in my conqueft.—

** Yet ftill I tried each fickle art “ Importunate, and vain,

** And whilft his paflion touch’d my heart,

“ I triumph’d in his pain.”

O, Afgill ! thou art revenged !

Lady Charlotte. What hearts we polTels ! Always too cold, or too feeling. My dear Horatia, ftonify your’s a little. As you give fpirit to marble, transfufe the marble to your heart. See, here is your little Welch friend.

Enter Georgina.

Georgina . O ! Lady Horatia ! I am fo re¬ joiced ! Blefs me ! you are weeping — what has happened ?

Lady Charlotte . A favourite goldfinch has happened to die, my dear.

Georgina. And laft night I loft a Canary bird. I am fure I cried for half an hour. Give me your goldfinch, and we will bury them to¬ gether. O, dear ! and you fhall copy them in marble ; that will be a fweet talk for you. ( Lady H. takes her hand , and Jmiles). You know what I have hurried here for ?

Lady

THE TOWN BEFORE YOU,

Lady Horatia. No.

Georgina. No ! Why did not you tell me you wanted to give my form to the ftatue of Andromache — Andromache mourning for her hufband ; that you have juft began to chip out there., you know, (pointing to a block of marble).

Lady Horatia . I did fo j but I am out of fpirits to-day.

Georgina. O ! I will not be difappointed. Your favourite work will put you in fpirits. I have brought a drefs for the purpofe j Hum¬ phrey, bring it in.

Humphrey enters with the drefs, and Jhews marks of aukward wonder.

I fhall be fadly mortified if you fend me away.

Lady Charlotte. Come, fit down. Lady Ho¬ ratia, it will amufe you.

Georgina. Yes, do ; and ’tis very fortunate that I loft my Canary bird. I’ll think of that, and then I fhall look fad enough for Hedtor’s widow.

Lady Horatia. Pho ! you little chit! Well, ftand, on the pedeftal, and lean on the broken column now, with proper penfivenefs and grace.

(Georgina runs up fteps behind the pedeftal).

Georgina. Yes, I will be ex&dtly the thing. ( tries to look very melancholy ). O ! my poor Ca¬ nary bird !

Lady Horatia. Ha, ha, ha ! Come, let us place your drapery in ftatue like order. (J he and Lady Charlotte place the folds). Now, keep fteady, and think of your Canary bird.

Enter

A COMEDY.

Enter Servant.

Servant . Mr. Conway.

Lady Horatia. Who ?

Servant . Mr. Conway.

Georgina (ftarting). Dear! Mr. Conway.

Servant . Some Gentlemen are with him, and they wifh to fee the fchool.

Lady Horatia. Dear Lady Charlotte, receive them, then — I cannot — 1 cannot indeed! [ Exit .

Georgina ( runs down). Gracious ! now I think of it, I have a great mind to run up again ; I will, I declare, and fee what Mr. Conway fays to me as a ftatue.

Lady Charlotte. A ftatue — why, furely, you do not expedt to impofe on him ?

Georgina. O yes, I do — I am fure he will not find me out ( runs up). Now, dear Lady Char¬ lotte, juft place my veil a little on this fide. O! make hafte — make hafte — I hear them coming.

Lady Charlotte (placing the veil). I muft gra¬ tify you. What a giddy thing you are !

Enter Conway, with Tippy, and three Gentle -

men .

Conway. Lady Charlotte, you have heard ©f Mr. Tippy ?

Lippy. Ah, ah, what, this is the place ! don’t mind me, Ma’am ; don’t mind me, I am uled to run about this town, and corredt its follies ; Tis a damn’d good town, that is certain ; one

D always

34 THE TOWN BEFORE YOU,

always finds fubjedts for ridicule ! well, what the

devil am I to fee ?

Conway. Look around.

Tippy. I, juft warm from the School of Florence; I who have trod the Roman Way; have fecn the Baths of Trajan, and the Dog Kennels of Nero, I look at the works of an Englifh artift. Ha, ha, ha ! ( walking amidfi the ftatues , and objerving them thro ’ a glajs).

Conway. Heavens ! it is — it is ftie ! ah ! how well do you* reprefent yourfelf : for you are yourfelf all marble; at lead your heart is fo. Yes, flinty-hearted charmer! you are ever cold and infenfate. O! I could ftand and gaze my life away, like Pygmalion, had I, like him, the power to warm my ftatue into love ! wha.t, will you not blefs me with one glance. Ah, you a<ft your part too well.

Tippy. Here is an arm; faith, it would make a very good leg; and this fine Grecian lady is like a Kentifh hop-picker !

Conway. Critic! come hither; come this way ; here is a new fubjedt — has not this the true Grecian character ? \

Tippy. What is this ? is this Lady Horatia’s chiffel ? ( looking thro ’ his glajs).

Conway. No — it is by a greater artift.

Tippy. An Englifh one. I’ll be fworn ( looking ) Grecian indeed ! a mere block-chipper !

Conway. Is it ill proportioned ?

Tippy. Pfhaw! nonfenfe ! talk of proportions to fcale makers and carpenters ; the thought is mechanical! a mere wax doll! where are the inflexions ? a human figure made on this prin¬ ciple, could never move. Now I will convince

you—

A COMEDY.

you— nothing like convidtion ; obferve the mufde of this foot !

Georgina (Jhrieks). O! do not touch me (leaps down). There, Sir, you fee I can move ; and I can dance ( dancing round him ).

(‘dippy fiats himfilfi in extreme confujion , on

the pe defied ).

Lady Charlotte. What , Mr. Tippy ! the breath¬ ing form of beauty a wax doll ! the work of a block chipper! ha, ha, ha.

Gentleman. Why, Tippy, how is this ? is it the Firft of April to-day?

Lady Charlotte. Accept my fmelling bottle j you feem ready to fink.

Lippy . Whu ! 1 am done up as a connoifleur. (ft arts up , and runs out ).

Lady Charlotte. Mr. Tippy! Critic! Mr. Tippy! [Exit, follow’d by all but Conway and

Georgina .

Conway . Ha, ha, ha ! done up indeed ; they purfue him as fmall birds do a hawk. Angel !

’ ( turning to Georgina ).

Georgina. Why, you were the perfon whom I wanted to make a fool of— -pray follow him.

Conway. Howls itpoflible forme to quit the fpot where you -

Georgina. I declare, Mr. Conway, I will not hear you; I have told you fo twenty times. And as to your kneeling, one finds fuch things in novels; but no man who really loves, thinks of fuch fooleries.

Conway ( rifing). How do you know that ?

Georgina. 1 am fure of it ; there was a young man who came down to Glamorganfhire from College, and almoft broke his heart about me! and he never knelt once.

Conway .

THE TOWN BEVORE YOU,

Conway (ftartled). O, rofes and carnations f (afide) then — did — how — how, I fay, were you lure that he loved you ?

Georgina, How! O, I was fure of it.

Conway, W as he always telling you fo ?

Georgina, He never told me fo once. He ufed to run away from me ; and, at laft, he had a fever, and in his ravings, he talk’d of no one but me.

Conway, Who told you fo ?

Georgina, His filler told me fo !

Conway. And did you not pity him ?

Georgina. Yes, I pitied him, becaufe I could not love him.

Conway. O, that faves my life. ( afide) And where is he now ?

Georgina. I don’t know; but I have heard he is recovered, and makes a very great figure fomewhere. They always get over it.

Conway. But if you fhould not love me, I fhould die.

Georgina. Love ! I wou’d not love for all the world. Mifs Gwatkin was in love once, and fhe grew as pale as horfe-radifh. kooiifh creature, if fhe had kept her colour, perhaps the Gentleman would have liked her.

Conway. O ! let me teach you to love ; I fee you are yet as ignorant of it, as - -

Georgina. As that fine Mr. Tippy was of fculpture, ha, ha! teach me to love; what, teach me to be wretched, to weep, to be fleep- lefs, to lofe my bloom. O ! if I ever thought it poffible that I could love you, I fhould hate you beyond ail bearing — I would fly from you, and never fee you more. \ Runs offhajlily.

Ccnwa\

A COMEDY.

Conway, She flies ! O happy omen 1 let her but dread me, and I have advanced one ftep ; if fhe fears to love me, the bufinefs is half com- pleated, [Going off with an air of triumph.

SCENE — A Counting-Houfe .

Enter Sir Simon and Perkins.

Sir Simon, Has not my Nephew been here yet ?

Perkins. He was here laft night. Sir — I took care that he law no one but me, and he went away in fuch diftrefs, that my heart ach’d for him.

Sir Simon . Dear lad !

Perkins. Here he comes — here he comes —

Sir Simon. O ! how ftiall I fpeak to him ? I have given myfelf a talk, that I can hardly bear,

% ,

Enter Asgill.

My dear boy !

AJgill. O ! Sir, what fhall I fay to you — words cannot utter -

Sir Simon . Come, come, hope the belt— perhaps matters may not turn out fo badly.

Afgill. Yes, I will hope and .pray for you. But in the mean time ( taking out a folded parch¬ ment ) my dear Sir, I am afhamed, I blufh at fuch an offering. But it is my all - —

Sir Simon. What, what is it you mean ?

Afgill. You know I have by inheritance a little land j it is but one hundred pounds a year f— O ! that it were thoufands. In this paper,

Sir,

3* TOE TOWN BEFORE YOU,

Sir, it is made over to you (lays it at his feet ). And now (Sir Simon looks ajlonijhed , takes up the paper , feetns much movedy and turns his hack). O! my father! (gufljes into tears , and runs out ).

Sir Simon . O ! flop, flop — my dear Sidney, flop!

Perkins . He has rufhed into the flreet like a. flafh. Let him go. Sir. Such a moment as this does good to the heart of man. He will be better for this affliction as long as he lives.

Sir Simon. But does he not deferve all my love 5 all my anxiety; all my care ?

Perkins. He does — he does — —

Sir Simon. This Lady Horatia, whom I am told of, mufl be an angel if fhe deferves him.

I wonder now, Perkins, what effeCt the news of his poverty will have upon her. I have a good mind to wait upon her myfelf, to fee how foe takes it.

Perkins. Will you, Sir ?

Sir Simon . I have no great opinion of thefe fine ladies. She may be good for fornething ; but in general, I believe, you may take them by the bufhel ; there is not much choice.

Perkins . Then will you go yourfelf, Sir Simon ?

Sir Simon. Yes, I think I will go ; and if I find her worthy my Sidney — O ! but fhe can¬ not be worthy ! birth, and beauty and riches are all fine things; but when put into the fcale againft fuch innate goodnefs ; fiuch an upright mind; fiuch reCtitude of character, it is weighing jewels againft drofs ! [ Exeunt .

END OF THE SECOND ACT.

ACT

A COMEDY.

ACT III.

SCENE I. - Fancourt’s.

Enter Fancourt, with a carelefs airy

followed by Mrs . Fancourt.

« To obey your will at any time,

(f I am ready— I am ready to relign her.**

Mrs . Fancourt . Ajfetted pleafantry, Mr. Fan- court, is the poor refuge of an uneafy heart. The converfation which has palled in the next room with Mr. Tippy, I have heard; and I fear you have an action in contemplation which will hereafter give you remorfe.

Fancourt . Remorfe, ha, ha, ha !

Mrs . Fancourt . Pray do not think that every thing is to be carried off with a laugh.

Fancourt . Not carried off* with a laugh ! Let me tell you, my, dear, that, as long as you can get the world to laugh with you, you may carry any point you pleafe. Only make wickednefs plealant, and they’ll heartily forgive you.

Mrs. Fancourt . But, Sir, remorfe of heart — Do you never feel that ?

Fancourt . Oh, exceedingly. Yes, I feel, re¬ morfe very much, when in any of my — little -—odd — excentricities, which you, in .your vulgar dialed, call wickedneffes, I cannot get the laugh on my fide.

Mrs . Fancourt . What, then, do the world really laugh at wickedneffes ?

Fancourt . O ! yes, always, my dear, always— when they do not fuffer by it. A man will be

D 4 hor-

05 THE TOWN BEFORE YOU,

horridly mad if I cheat him of a thoufand pounds ; but if I fwindle his neighbour out of it, he laughs, and fays, <c That Fancourt is a *c fad, wicked fellow, but he’s clever ; hang <e the dog, the’ he does deferve the gallows, <c I like him after all.”

Mrs. Fancourt. Monftrous !

Fancourt. If one feduces any one’s wife, the injured hufband rages, but his friend fimpers ; and when he meets the aggrelfor he takes

him under the arm, and fays, “ Come, tell us the ftory.”

Mrs. Fancourt. O flagitious ! Well, Sir, and a daughter ?

Fancourt. A daughter !. O ! what - what

you heard Tippy juft now, did you ? You heard what was faid about Sir Robert Floyer’s daughter ?

Mrs. Fancourt. I did.

Fancourt. Well, then, my dear, keep filence ; for if you do not, I will flit that pretty tongue of your’s, and make it chatter double, like a ftarling’s. . [Exit.

Mrs. Fancourt. Oh, horrible ! I cannot con¬ tain rr yfclf ! Here is a plot laid for the bitter anguifh of a father, for the ruin of a child ! (paufing) I will — that drefs — yes, that drefs

of the Savoyard — I ft ill have it - and in

that - v

\ m

Fancourt returns .

Fancourt . Hark ye, woman, left you fhould miftake the good humour I have fhewn, I tell } ’m, that if you dare to utter — to whifper with tne highteil breath, what your impertinent cu-

riofity

A COMEDY.

yiofity has put you in pofiefiion of, every mi- fery that I can inflidt awaits you ! I have a dagger (jhe ft arts ), not for your body, but for your mind. I have fomething that ftiall pierce your fpirit, through, and through !

Mrs. Fancourt. 1 tremble at your threats — * yet I cannot forbear to bid you remember, that the young woman, whofe fortune and peace you defign to ruin, is the daughter of the man who, touched by your diftreftes, fent you yefterday noble relief.

Fancourt . Yefterday is paft, and a thoufand to-morrows are to come ; I muft ‘provide for them ; my opportunities are few, and my wants are prefling! (heavily and louring)

Mrs. Fancourt. Now , Mr. Fancourt, what fay you — is poverty the nurfe of virtue ?

Fancourt. Woman ! I cannot argue — Re¬ member ! [Exit, with a ftern air , and J baking his finger.

Mrs. Fancourt (after a pauje ). O ! how has Ueceflity hardened his heart ! Yes, poverty, thou haft a thoufand ills belides thy nakednefs and want ! But this young creature ftiall not be its vitftim. I muft try to lave her — I feel it a duty, and will not be deterr’d. [Exit,

SCENE II.- — Fhe Room of ftatues , at Lady Ho-

ratia’s.

Enter Sir Simon Asgill, followed by a fervant .

Sir Simon . Yes, tell your lady, Sir Simon Af- gill from the city (walking a little way up , and looking about him). Why, what an odd place this

X* -

42 THE TOWN BEFORE YOU,

is ! Your fervant, Madam (bowing to the figure of a woman ). Why, you look as melancholy as the wife of a lame duck juft waddled home from the Alley. O ! here comes the lady herfelf.

Enter Georgina.

Lady Horatia Horton, I am your moft obe¬ dient fervant.

Georgina . Sir, I am — ( making a low curtefy) I Lady Horatia — ha, ha, ha ! ( tittering) I wonder who he is.

Sir Simon. Madam, I wait on you on a me-, lancholy occafion.

Georgina (afide). I’ll keep it up. Then, Sir, I wifh you had ftaid away. I hate melancholy. Sir, this is my birth-day. I am this day eighteen years of age, and I will not be made melancholy.

Sir Simon. Eighteen years ; my nephew is ten years older. A happy age, Madam ; the union of youth and manhood l Were I a lady I would never take a boy to guide me through life. Eight and twenty is the age, and that is the age of my nephew.-

Georgina.. Ha, ha, ha 1 And pray. Sir, ha, ha, ha ! Now pray. Sir, who is your nephew ?

Sir Simon ( afide). How flippant fhe is ! My nephew. Madam — Gad, I don’t much like her ( afide). My nephew is that unfortunate young man, who has been fo long in love with you — Sidney Afgill.

Georgina ( afide ). So— I fhall have fome of Lady Horatia’s fecrets prefently. How 1 will teize her about Sidney Afgill.

Sir

A COMEDY.

Sir Simon. I underitand he has poffeffed your good opinion.

Georgina. Yes, I admire him exceedingly–—

I never law him in my life ( tittering ).

Sir Simon. Then, Madam, it muft give you pain to know that he is undone. I am his unck, on whom he depends ; but the misfortunes of trade— In fhort, Madam, if you will be fo ge¬ nerous on account of his great merit as to marry him, you will marry a beggar.

Georgina. I marry a beggar on account of his great merit— Law, Sir ! ha, ha, ha !

Sir Simon. Confider, Madam, how he loves you.

Georgina. What fignifies his love — a beggar !

I am fure if my papa ihou’d— O, dear ! I for¬ get—! am Lady Horatia ( afide ).

Sir Simon . I did not know you had a father.

Georgina. Yes, Sir, I have a father, and a dear father j and if I Ihould— -Pho ! I blunder again [afide).

Sir Simon . Well, that’s not to the point. You fay, Madam, you will not marry my ne - . phew, becaufe he’s a beggar. You will not marry Sidney Afgill, though he is dying for you.

Georgina. Certainly I will not. [with a deter¬ mined air). I am fa fe in faying that, for I am fure Lady Horatia will not marry a beggar. [afide). I defire I may hear no more of your nephew. Sir ; a frightful, ugly, difagreeable, odd tempered mortal ! I can’t abide him.

Sir Simon. Then, Madam, as it wou’d not be civil to corred you, I have a great mind to Jay my flick about your ridiculous mummery

here !

THE TOWN BEFORE YOU,

44-

Jiere ! (in a great pajfion ). You fay you will not marry my Nephew ?

Georgina . I do fay I will not. Sir, (in a ‘pet). I never will ! The winter fhall fcorch firft, and the fummer freeze.

Sir Simon. Then by — you fhall not, hang me if you do ! I will look amongft the girls in the City. We have as much beauty, more money, and more goodnefs eaft of Temple Bar, than can be found in all the fquares weft of it. So, Madam, I leave you, I leave you to your follies (pointing to the ftatuary). Refufe my Nephew! I am glad of it ; I am glad of it ! he fhall have a City girl ! I have one in my eye, ten times as handlome as you are— ?old Simon fays fo !

[ Exit, with an air of Jpite. Georgina. Then let him have a City girl, old Simon ! ha, ha, ha ! law, what a fury he went off in !

Enter Lady Horatia. <■

O ! Lady Horatia, I have been fo diverted — * ha, ha, ha !

Lady Horatia. What has fo amufed you, my dear ?

Georgina. Yes, yes, I know all about Sidney Afgill — O ! how fly you were, ha, ha, ha 1 Lady Horatia. Y ou amaze me ; where is Sir Simon ? ( looking round ).

Georgina. O ! here has been the queereft old Cit ! (forming and raving becaufe I would not marry his Nephew.

Lady Horatia. What can this mean ?

Georgina. He took me for you ; and he came to tell you that his Nephew was a beggar, and

4 that

A COMEDY.

that he was dying for you, and I know not what

fluff. 7

Lady Horatia. Is Mr. Afgill dying ? {greatly

alarmed ) #

Georgina, Do not look fo frightened. Foi love

of you — no otherwife dying ; but he 11 get ovei it ; they always do.

Lady Horatia, And does he fay Sidney is a beggar ?

Georgina, O ! yes, he repeated that, as thoug.i it was a recommendation. You cannot think what a paffion he went away in; for I vowed nothing on earth fhou’d make me marry a beggar” > and he took me all the while for you, ha, lia, ha 1 (going, and returning), O ! I had forgot ; the beft of all is, he fwears his Is ephe w fhall marry a City beauty, with a great, large,

clumfy City fortune.

Lady Horatia. Marry l marry !

Georgina. I fhou’d like to fee the bride. He

declares (he is twenty times as handfome as I am

—I mean, as you are.

Lady Horatia. O! you know not what you have clone 1 (going, and returning). And fhe is very handfome ? cruel Georgina ! and I fhall appear to Sidney Afgill, mean, fordid, detefta- ble ! he is in poverty, and will think that I defpife him ! he — you have undone me ! and beautiful too- ■“beautiful and nch— — 1 0 1 f am loft 1

[ Exit, in extreme diftrefs.

Georgina. Why, what can the matter be? I certainly have done fomething wrong. But to be fure fhe will not marry a beggar ; and yet I don’t know — perhaps fhe may ; one hears ror ever of the whims of fine ladies, who fit and contrive what odd thing they fhall do, to fur-

prize the town with next, [Exit.

F SCENE

THE TOWN BEFORE YOU,

SCENE III. — ADrawingRoom at SirRobert’s.

A noife without, of fcolding.

Enter Jenny y followed by Humphrey.

Jenny . Such an impudent, infolent clown as you are ; you to pretend for to talk j you ! one who never learnt his horn-book.

Humphrey. Better never larn a horn-book, than fuch books as. you have learnt to read, you trumpery ! I tell you, I doant like your goings on, and IJ11 tell mailer. You are always filling Mifs’s head with fluff ; and I doant like many things as I do fee.

Jenny. You fee ! you don’t know what you fee.

Humphrey. Doant I ? yes, I do, and what I hear too. lyeard a fine tale of you in Wales — yes, yes, it is not for nothing that you are drawn forth in your filk gowns, and all this fine rufflety-tufflety ; and going half naked, as though you were a lady of fafhion. D’ye remember the Coptain who uled to come on pretence of admiring the old tattered velvet furniture, that came out of my mailer’s great grandfather’s callle, three hundred years ago ? -

Enter Sir Robert, and Fancourt.

Sir Robert. Heyday !

[Humphrey and Jenny run off frightened. Quarrelling about my tattered velvet furniture i I am proud of thofe rags : the rags of a man’s anceflry ought to be dear to him. I would

give

A COMEDY.

4, .

give fifty acres for the rags of the old doublet of that anceflor of mine, who came over with the Ambaifador of King Priam.

Fancourt. I am forry you interrupted them ; I like thofe children of nature; I am fond of natural characters; no dilguife — all open ho- nelly — what their hearts prompt, their tongues utter.

Sir Robert. True, Sir, true: lam glad you like plainnefs; and therefore tell you, Mr. Fancourt, that’ the draft I promifed you for my Lord Beechgrove, I have altered my mind about.

Fancourt ( aftonijhed ). Sir !

Sir Robert. Ail that affair about Mr. Snapper was very plealant to be fure ; but I have met with a thing that has ftagger’d me a good deal.

Fancourt (afide). The devil! daggered. Sir?

Sir Robert. Yes, Sir; I do ’not underftand a man’s wanting favours, and then treating thofe ill who would do them fervice.

Fancourt . My very heart fhrivels like fcorch- ed parchment ( afide). Treat you ill. Sir! who has dared to accufe me of treating you ill. Sir Robert ? I defy the man ; I defy the human being. Whu! I wifh I was out of the houfe {afide).

Sir Robert. Dear, Mr. Fancourt, I have not the lead: fufpicion that you wou’d ufe me ill. I believe it to be impoftible. No, Sir, it is my Lord Beechgrove of whom I complain. Why, Sir, do you know I met him in ’the Park, and he would not fpeak to me ! would fcarcely return my bow ! tho’ an hour before

\ * he

48 THE TOWN BEFORE YOtf,

he invited me to vifit him, as you know. Bids me! what’s the matter, Mr. Fancourt.

Fancourt. O ! Sir Robert, I am feized with a vertigo, which is fometimes very troublefomc (/mothering a laugh ). If I had a glafs of hartfhorn and water* -

Sir Robert . Here — Thomas — Humphrey— I’ll go myfelf. . ’ [Exit.

Fancourt . Ha, ha, ha! he has feen the real Lord Beechgrove. O ! my back cracks like an old wainfcot.N The thoufand is gone like kft year’s moonfhire, if I can’t -

Tippy enters .

O ! you devil, out of the houfe !

Fippy. What has happen’d ?

Fancourt . What has happen’d ! why old Taffy has feen — out of the houfe — do not ftay to afk queflions ; he has feen your polygraph — out- — out — here he comes ! ( Tippy vanijhes ).

Sir Robert enters , follow’d by a Servant with

a glafs.

O ! this will be too much for me, I fear, at laft. Sir Robert you are very good (drinks). O! blefs me every fpring and fall ! I am better now. You were pleal’ed to fay fome thing, Sir, about my friend. Lord Beechgrove. O ! I re¬ member now — he met you, and did not re¬ coiled: you.

Sir Robert. That was very odd tho’I and I faid — fays I — Cf My I _ord, the thoufand pounds <c which Mr. Fancourt fpoke to me of -

Fancourt .

A COMEDY.

“Pan court. Did you — did you? (coughs and laughs with his hack turned). Well, Sir Robert, and what faid my Lord ?

Sir Robert. Never a word — never a word. Stared as though I had been a new caught monlter. I had not changed my drefs, though he had changed his. The difference of drefs made me alrnoft think once, that I might be miflaken ; but on looking again, I was lure of my man.

Fancourt . Aye— pray what was his drefs. Sir?

Sir Robert. Regimentals.

Fancourt. Regimentals ? a hint ! (fignificantly afide ) O ! he had his regimentals on — aye — he is a Colonel in the Guards. Rather odd not fpeaking, I confefs; but a man, whofe head is Huff’d with the bufinefs of all Europe, mull be forgiven if a flight acquaintance flips out of it.

Sir Robert. Why, I can make allowances, Mr. Fancourt; I remember myfelf, when I was High Sheriff for the county, I once pafled an acqaintance, but I made him an apology; and. Sir, I fhall expect an apology from my Lord, for not returning my bow, before I ad- .vance the thoufand pounds. A thoufand pounds is money, Mr. Fancourt.

Fancourt . It is — it is. Sir, and the man who will not make a bow {or a thoufand pounds, ought never to poflefs a thoufand pence ( laughs afide). I will go, Sir, and bring his Lordfhip here (going). He dines to-day at the Dutchefs’s in his own fquare ; but I’ll engage to bring him away in fpite of wit, and beauty, and cham-

E paigne.

THE TOWN BEFORE YOU,

paigne. I’ll be a match for thee yet, old Taffy!

(afide ). .

Sir Robert. I wifb my Lord wou’d invite me

to dine at a Dutchefs’s. I never did dine with a Dutchefs. It muft be very delightful!

I fliould go back to Glamorganlhire, and be able to amule my neighbours with all her Grace s bons mots, and repeat her Grace’s toafls , I would hold my afs-fkin flily under the table, and pencil down her good things. ’Tis all the fafhion now. Many a man gets a dinner by being known to write down the wit of his hofl or hoftefs; tho’, after long watching, he frequently brings away empty tablets. [Exit.

Georgina enters laughing audibly , followed by

Jenny.

fenny. Aye, Mifs, you may laugh, but for my part, I doesn’t fee any thing in your ala-* blaker fiatutes — all of one colour, like a duck’s egg. Give me a fine large pi&ure, with robes of red, and blue, and rich damafk car- tains.

Georgina. Your tafle is excellent! (continuing

to laugh ).

Jenny. But if you talk of flatuary, go to Mrs. Silvertip’s.

Georgina. Who is fhe ?

Jenny. Why, a lady who makes the fineft flatutes in the world, all in wax. There are generals, — and failors — and princeffes — and dukes — and old women, more natural than life. Now if I can raife her curiofity to go there. Jack’s bufinefs is done ( afide).

Georgina .

A COMEDY.

‘Georgina. Dear Jenny, how can I fee them ?

Jenny. Why, by going to her Exhibition on Eifli-ftreet-hill.

Georgina. Filh-ftreet-hill — where is that ?

Jenny. Hang me if I know (afide). O ! Mifs, every body knows where that is. ’Tis juft by Grofvenor Square.

Georgina. I wonder if Ihe wou’d teach me her art ?

Jenny. Yes, to be fure ftie wou’d. All arts are to be learnt by thole who have money, ex¬ cept the art of being happy.

Georgina . Then the firft ufe I would make of it, fhould be to imitate the features of Mr. Conway in wax. I then fhou’d be able to look at him without blufhing, and even talk to him without his being a bit the wiler.

Jenny. Mr. Conway, indeed! (afide, petu¬ lantly ).

Georgina. O dear ! yes I will, I will learn the art. I know his countenance fo well, that I fhou’d be able to copy it without ever feeing him more. And yec there is Gne look, which no art can imitate ! (tenderly ).

Jenny. Devil take him! (afide). Well, Mifs, I’ll carry you there to-morrow. But Sir Robert muft not know it.

Georgina. O not for the world ! I will go™

I will go— I will go. [Runs off.

Jenny. Yes, fo you lhallj but Mr. Conway fhall never be the better for it. You have a large fortune, my dear, and are handfome ; my brother is handfome, and has no fortune— the belt reafon for to bring you together.

En(en

THE TOWN BEFORE YOU, i _

Enter Sir Robert.

Sir Robert. Where is my daughter ?

Jenny. Juft gone to her dreffing-room, Sir.

Sir Robert. Then I’ll go and hear her on the- harp a little. She has a Tweet finger; aye — and fhe is a fweet girl; but my heart has a thou¬ sand aches about her, and dearly as I love her, I am ready fome times to exclaim with the old fong,

“ X wonder any man alive, would ever have a daughter.’*

Jenny. O ! you old - if you’d had wit

enough for to have put p. proper value on my charms, I would have taken every care about your daughter off your hands ; — but I’ll be re¬ venged for all your tricks 1 here I have been Spending anxious days, and fleeplefs nights, for two years; — making up the fmarteft caps of wafh’d gauze and dyed ribbons ; — buying new braids of hair, of a nice nut brown— -and all without being able to touch the old goofe, any more than if his heart was made of leather. But I’ll match you! Since you will not make me your wife. Til give your daughter a hufband ; and if you fhould die of the mortification, I know where to find a place to dance on. [Exit.

SCENE IV.– - AsgiliT Lodgings .

Enter Asgill and Conway.

. 1 #

SlJgilL O! ’tisinvain! never, Conway, will I fue for companion from a proud beauty, who

treated

A COMEDY.

treated me with haughtinefs, even when Ihe believed me heir to profperity.

Conway. Pride and lovelineis ought to go together. I diflike the vulgar railing againft the haughtinefs of confcious beauty. She, who over values herfelf, will never fink too low; and the lady of whom we lpeak, perhaps loves you.

Ajgill. For that very reafon, I will not again appear before her. I am too proud to raife a confli£l in her bofom between her pride, and her tendernefs, and to owe at length, perhaps, to her compojfimy the acceptance to which her love would never have acceded.

Conway. You are very nice. If my heart were not pre-occupied, and fo fine a woman had an inclination to make me mailer of herfelf and for¬ tune, I would not quarrel with , her about the motive ; I wou’d thank the pretty creature, and give her all the love I could.

Afgill. Yes ; but you are a man of fortune. By this time, I fuppofe, people begin to talk of my diftrefs’d Hate.

Conway. I have heard it mentioned.

Ajgill. What has been faid ?

Conway . A lady obferved, that it was pity a man fo handfome fhou’d be funk fo low ; and her hufband faid he was forry, becaufe you were fuch a good kind of young man.

Ajgill ( with contempt’). Good kind of young man ! I am forry I have incurr’d fuch an ap¬ probation. ( Conway Jeems furprijed) No, no, do not imagine ( Jmihng ) that I wifh for the re¬ putation of a bad heart. But the term, ^ Good kind of young man A in cur days, is fo

E 3 applied.

54 THE TOWN BEFORE YOU,

applied, that I delire not to be honoured- with it. An idle fellow, who hangs loofe on fo- ciety, without merit or avocation, or one who corrupts the filler of his friend, or runs away with his daughter, or does all thofe things which mankind ought to execrate, is laid, in excufe, to be a good kind of young man . In fhort, good kind of young man, in the pre- fent acceptance, may very fairly be tranllated JcoundreL

Enter Servant.

Servant. Sir, here is the perfon you ordered from Tower-hill. Siopfeller, I think he calls hirnfelf. [Exit.

Conway. Siopfeller ! How do you tranllate that P Apr thee, ary, I fuppofe ?

AfgiU. Ha, ha, ha ! No, I allure you. A Tower-hill flopfellet does not deal in emullions and fyrnps, he— but you mull excufe my telling you what he deals in. ( growing grave’) My dear Conway, adieu ! Often think of me, and fpeak of me as I deferve ; but be fure you never fuffer people to call me a good kind of young man.

Conway. Algil:, though there is fome plea- fantry in your manner, there is alfo a ferioufnefs which fliocks me. What are you going to do ?

Afgill. What I ought to do. What, do you imagine I intend to Hay at home, to parade Bond-free t, and make the circle of Picca¬ dilly, Saint James’s-ftreet, and Pall-mall ? No, no, my burning brain cannot be cooled by fuch expe ients ; ’tis only the powerful voice of my country can regulate its diftradtion— Afk nc> queftions— my relolution is fixed— Farewell !

Conway ,

A COMEDY.

Conway. What! and is the frenzy of your brain regulated by the hope of ferving your country ? Do all your private woes fink be¬ fore that powerful principle ! O ! glorious effeft of patriotic love ! Every felfijfh feeling vanifhes — to tear myfelf from you becomes a duty. I go— defpife not this weaknefs— I venerate, I pity you ! * [Exit.

AJgilL Friend of my heart! He goes in tears ! Oh ! the drops which manly friendlhip forces from the eye, are more precious than thofe collected in the groves of rich Arabia— They fink into my heart— they cherijh it !— Now come in. Sir.

Enter a Man , with a bundle .

Have you brought what I ordered ?

Man. Yes; here are the things, Sir. ( opens the bundle’)

AJgilL This, then, is the complete drefs of an Engiifh failor ?

Man. Complete ! ( opening and dijplaying it)

AJgilL O ! the fight of it warms my heart ! In this drefs what heroes have bled — what gak lant a6ts have been atchieved ! Thofe who have worn it, have given England ail her glory — have given her the boundlefs empire of the ocean.

Man. Ay, Sir, it was. your Raleighs, and your Drakes, and your Bofcawens who did all that.

AJgilL O ! whilft our grateful retrolpe&ion twines laurels around the heroes of departed days, let us not forget what is due to thofe of our own ! Let us look with gratitude towards a Howe, and hang, with tributary tears, over

E 4 thi

5 6 THE TOWN BEFORE YOU,

the names of Montague, Harvey, and Hutt !

Man. Ah ! the three laft are gone.

Afgill. But fome remain. There only wants occasion, an Mother Montagues, and other Harveys will ftart out like meteors, and glide along the Britifh fky, blazing in glory !

( Goes cut , pr effing the bundle to him..’)

Man. Gad ! he’s a fine fellow, and will make a noble failor ; but our fleets, thank heaven, are full of fiich. [Exit.

As gill returns , meeting a Servant.

AJgill. There are ftill two bills unpaid— go and difcharge them. That purfe contains fuffi- cient. [ Exit Servant .

Now,, all my debts paid, and a few guineas in my pocket, I quit my country ; but I quit her, to ferve her ! O ! may the boundlefs ble fi¬ lings of heaven defeend upon her ; may my arm contribute to reftore peace to her ; and may glory and monarchy be hers, till time fliall be no more ! [Exit.

END OF THE THIRD ACT.

ACT

A COMEDY,

ACT IV.

SCENE I .—Lady Horatia’s Drawing-room .

She enters with rabidity and diforder , then turns ,

/peaks.

Lady Horatia . Yes— order the horfes in- flantly — and yet —no — I fhall not want them — Go to his uncle in the city ! How flrange that will be ! But can I hefitate on decorums, when existence is at flake ? Can I fuffer Sidney Afgill to believe that Georgina’s fooleries are my fentiments ? Can I fuller another to have the tranfport of lifting him from poverty, whilfl I am defpifed ! The thought breaks

my heart-firings ! Ah i Mr. Conway !

» ■

Enter Conway.

Conway. I hew the moment I received your commands.

Lady Horatia. My commands ! Sir, I only

fent to afk - it was only with an intention to

— ( much confufed.)

Conway. Speak, Lady Horatia. ( apau/e ) Do me the honour to repofe confidence in me.

Lady Horatia. Yes, Sir, I believe I can — - — I believe I ought— but fliame weighs down my very foul. In one moment what will you think of me ?

Conway. What I have always, thought, that you are one of the firft of your fex.

Lady

THE TOWN BEFORE YOU,

Lady Horatia {walks a little way in extreme agitation , then returns). I mull fpeak, for the conflict is too great for me to endure. You are the friend of Afgill— the friend of his

youth-— the chofen of his heart, {he hows) - ?

Permit me then to afk, even though vour an-

J * 0

fwer fhou’d be a breach of confidence, did you ever hear him mention any other lady as one

- -as one - with whom he wifhed to unite

his fate ?

Conway. O never ! You are the objed of his adoration.

Lady Horatia. ( with quicknefs) Then find

him out - purfue him ! What have I faid r

My foul fhrinks at the found of the words I have uttered.

Conway. Would my AfgilPs ears could have received them ! Go on. Madam.

Lady Horatia , Go on ! Alas ! need I add an¬ other fentence ! You fee that - humble me

not too far - lam proud - Plad Algill con¬

tinued the heir of fplendid poflefTions, perhaps my pride and coldnefs would never have abated ; but he is poor ; he is undone !

Conway. Peerlefs woman !

Lady Horatia . My fortune is his — my heart —my foul !

Conaway. O ! fufFer me to kneel for him ! For him I thank you, adorable, tranfcendent woman !

Lady Horatia. I feel your kindnefs in endea¬ vouring to abate my confufion. The Pep I have taken 1 Piou’d yePerday have thought lefs cafy than to die. Perrhit me to leave you, nor dare to think ( ‘with rejumed dignity) that, be- .caufe my paflion is Prong, my condud lhall be

4 ^ weak !

A COMEDY,

$5>

weak ! My reputation is in your hands - •

preferve it as you wou’d your own life and ho¬ nour. [Exit .

Conway. I accept the glorious depoflt, and I will deferve the truft. What grace can dig- pity of foul beftow ! The very conduit which from a vulgar mind would difouft, from fuch

C w ^ y 1

elegance and virtue becomes fafcinating. Now, Afgill, I will dare to feek thee ; and I will pour fuch tranfport on thy heart, as fhall make thee confefs, the hour of thy poverty the mod: bleffed of thy life. [Exit.

SCENE II- — Sir Robert Fl oyer’s Library «.

Ij Enter Sir Robert in a hurry , followed by a

Servant.

Sir Robert. Bring up his lordfhip and Mr. Fancoyrt diredlly — fly down — never keep a lord in waiting. [ Exit Servant.

(Sits.) No, I won’t receive his lordfhip fitting (rifes)y that will look like want of refpedt. I will be Handing, No— -that will not be the thing neither ; for then I fnall have no opportu¬ nity to fhew my veneration, by rifing at his

entrance. No* - 1 mult fit, and - Yes,

there I’ve hit it - I’ll be reading - deeply

employed in reading. Then, when the great man enters, ftart up, and dafh away the book. Let me fee — it fhall be a large book. I’ll get

CD O

up and reach one down, ( mounts the library jleps , and takes down a book ) — Chambers’s Dic¬ tionary — that will do. ( Takes down another) cc The Fall of the Roman Empire.” Bids me — my lord !

(A ferv ant announces Lord Beech grove. Sir Rc - bert looking round Jees Tippy enter , dreffcd as

Lord

THE TOWN BEFORE YOU,

Lord Beechgrove , followed by Fancourt. In his fright he tumbles with the books from the fteps. I hey help him up .)

Sir Robert. O, dear ! I am quite confounded. My lord, I beg your lordfhip’s pardon a million of times. Mr. Fancourt — O, my knee ! ( rubs it) Reach his lordfhip a chair. A. moft untoward ac¬ cident, my lord ; but pray accept it as an omen. You found me fprawling at your feet— it fhews how devoted I am to your fervice.

Tippy , Sir Robert, I have often heard of the politenefs of the Welch gentlemen, and you really confirm all that has been faid. The year in which you were fberiff, Sir Robert, was fuch a year of fplendour and magnificence, as Gla- morganfhire will long remember. We heard a vaft deal of it at Saint James’s ; it amufed the Royal Circle fora month.

Sir Robert. Why, my lord, I did my heft on that occafion. When I was high fheriff for the county, I neither fpared myfelf or my purfe. A hanging in the morning, and an af- lembly at night ; giving the judges a dinner to¬ day, and to-morrow confulting Jack Ketch about a new gallows. Such a variety of buff- nefs, my lord, demands a man’s whole atten¬ tion.

Tippy. Certainly, certainly. A little thing happened this morning, Sir Robert, which has given me pain. You addreffed me in the Park, I really was, at that moment, throwing over in my mind the compact between Rufffa and Po¬ land. In ffiort, i had aim oft determined to go to Saint Peteriburgh, ambaffador myfelf ; fori think one or two points might be reviled. At that very moment, Sir Robert, juft as I was

A COMEDY.

delivering my credentials to the Emprefs, and receiving one of thofe delicious fmiles, which —

Fancourt . You will go too far. ( twitching him )

j tippy. I fay, juft then, Sir Robert, you ad- I drefled me.

Sir Robert . No wonder, my lord, that you overlooked me ; I am afhamed to have made a complaint of fuch a trifle.

Fancourt. Pray, my lord, examine Sir Ro¬ bert’s fhelves ; you will find them well flocked.

Sir Robert . All dead flock, my lord ; heavy dead flock.

j tippy. Pardon me. Sir, pardon me! Such dock is never dead. You have here in calf’s- lkin and iheep’s-fkin, the very fouls of the au¬ thors. Well chofen, I dare fay.

Sir Robert. Why, my lord, as to the choice, I left that to my broker. He furnifhed the whole houfe, from the kitchen to the gafret ; the pots and the poets ; the frying-pans and the philofo- phers were all of his choofing.

Fancourt. Now, Sir Robert, if you would da the thing genteely, write the draft without his obferving it, and I’ll prefent it to him after we have left the houfe. Great men mull not l}ave fervices tendered them coarfely.

Sir Robert i I underfland you ; there is a nice way of doing things. Pray, my lord, amufe yourfelf with a folio or two. A certain deli¬ cate — it fhall be fo. {goes and writes)

Fippy {taking up a book). cc The debates of Leadenhail-ftreet.” Pleafant reading — light — *

pretty reading in a heavy morning !

Fancourt . Leadenhall-flreet - A thought

flrikes me.

Tippy. .

■«s ‘the town before you,

fippy. Then ftrike again.

Fancourt. I fay, my lord, as Sir Robert is £ liberal man, and fond of patronage, fuppofe you give him, by way of outlet, a place at the Board of Controul for Indian affairs, juil till a better thing offers. {Sir Robert writes , and lijiens by turns’).

Fippy. The thought was too obvious to be

miffed - exactly fuits his difcernment and

fpirit. ( whijpers , then Jpeaks audibly) The na¬ bobs ( whifpers ) — the begums ( whijpers ) — muf- lins, alaballas, mul-muls, and nanfooks {whij¬ pers Jy Nankeen china {whijpers)i Patna rice {whijpers).

Sir Robert {runs up). O, my lord ! my lord ! {Jlides the draft into Fancourt’ s hands) Not a word — mum ! {his finger to his lip)

{Fancourt holds up the draft to catch Fippy’s

eye-)

Fippy . Faith, I had better go about it di- re&iy — no time to be loff — let us finifh the bu- finefs at once, {looking fignificantly at Fancourt ) Sir Robert, your fervant.

Fancourt . Sir Robert, your fervant. {both hur¬ rying off)

Sir Robert {ftands and flares). cc Sir Robert, your fervant” — mighty fhort ! Well, but they’re in a hurry to ferve me — a little rudenels, when it proceeds from kindnefs, may be par¬ doned.

Enter Georgina haftily , followed by Jenny.

Georgina. O f dear papa, there is a woman in the lquare with fome odd mulic j I am going to the bow- window to hear her. [ Exit .

Sir

A COMEDY.

t -

Sir Robert. Get along, madcap ! (going) be¬ gums, nabobs, Patna rice - Sir Robert, your

lervant — mighty fhort ! [Exit,

SCENE III. — Ehe ffuare.

Mrs. Fancourt, dr effect as a Savoyard , enters , winding a hurdy gurdy , attended by two chil¬ dren, the one with a tambour , the other with a cymbal .

Mrs. Fancourt. This is the houfe ; here will I place myfelf — fortunately I may attract the

lovely vidtim. ( fings and pi ays)

I be von poor Savoyard,

Get but lit, and labour hard ;

Wet and cold me oft’ endure.

Patience be my only cure.

Georgina appears , Jenny ftands behind her<

Ah, Ah, charmante lady, call down your bright eye. Companionate look, or perhaps I be die;

I fee von fweet fmile Healing over your face.

It give you new beauty, it give you new grace,

I be von poor Savoyard,

Get but lit, and labour hard ;

Wet and cold me oft endure.

Patience be my only cure.

Make von curtefy to de lady, you lit impudent ting.

Georgina. Do not chide her. Where did you come from ?

Mrs .

f>\ THE TOWN BEFORE YOU,

Mrs. Fancourt. From von great vay off; i live among de mountains, and I be come to make pleale de pritlady of dis country. ( Geor¬ gina throws down filver .) Take up 1’ argent, ma petite, and put it in votre poche— Blefs your charite. Lady, I can teli de fortune by looking at de vite hand.

Georgina . Can you ? O! dear Jenny, let us have her up.

Jenny. Laws, Mifs, don’t let fuch creatures come in ; they may ileal fomething ; there’s a wicked look in her eyes ; I under (land eyes as well as ihe does hands.

Mrs. Fancourt. Dat prit young voman’s by your fide, lady, be born to von great luck — fhe vill ave de grande offer.

Jenny. Well, Mifs, if you will have her in¬ i’ll go and open the door.

[Fhey leave the balcony .

Mrs. Fancourt. Thus far I am fuccefsful. O ! horrid ! that fuch youth and goodnefs fhould be¬ come the prey oftwo villains ! Ah ! the door opens.

Jenny (opening the door ). Come, come — make hafte. [They enter .

f V * ’ 1 •

SCENE — Changes to the Drawing-room.

Georgina enters, followed by Mrs. Fancourt

and Jenny.

Mrs. Fancourt. Come, let me look at your prit vite hand. ( takes Georgina’s hand , and pre¬ tends to examine the lines. ) Ah, I fee — I. fee — . But I ave not de power to tell de fortune before any von — dat gentle— -fweet temper young vo- mans muff go.

. .. Geor -

A COMEDY. 65

«* * * > y

Georgina. Go, Jenny, d’ye hear ? Leave the toom ; go diredUy.

Jenny {going reluctantly}. I fhou’d not have thought of that foreign woman’s impudence, to have me lent out of the room— *-1 don’t like her— -I’ll liften, I am determined. [Exit.

Mrs. Fancourt. Now, Mifs, me vill tell you

— . you be born to be ver happy, if you be

ver good.

Georgina. Dear ! Do you think I am ’ not good ?

Mrs. Fancourt. Bau ! Bau ! dere be von— - two vicked mens, who ave de vicked defign upon you— 11 faut, you muft not fee gentle¬ mens, but in de prefence of your papa. Your papa be your bon friend.

Georgina. I never heard any thing fo ridi¬ culous. Never fee gentlemen, but in my papa’s prefence. O ! you are a fine fortune-teller ! Good-day {going).

Mrs. Fancourt {is agitated ; follows , and f sizes her). Madam, if you would not be loft beyond redemption, obferve what I have faid. Two villains have laid fuch a train -

Georgina . Amazing ! Why, you now fpeak good Englifh.

Mrs. Fancourt . Hah ! I had forgot ; but when the heart feels it is hard to diflemble. You have detected me. Charming young wo¬ man, flight not the cautions which I wear this difguife to give ! Surely they muft have weight with you, when I tell you, that it is perhaps at the hazard of my life , that I appear before you.

Georgina. You freeze me!

Mrs. Fancourt. Treat not lightly then the advice of one, who runs fuch riiks to prefs it

h upon

THE TOWN BEFORE YOU,

upon you — I know not exadtly what is defigrrecf

— I have awakened your caution, and my duty is compleat.

Jenny {running in). Get out of the houfe, you impoftor — you deceiving jezabel. If you do not go this minute, I will order the footman to fweep you out.

Mrs. Fancourt. Young lady think upon my words. [Exit.

Jenny. Think upon her words — a vagabond \ did you ever fee fuch aflurance, Mifs ? I have a great mind to beat her hurdy-gurdy about her ears.

Georgina. Be filent ! what I have heard fhalJ fink into my heart. I will be circumfpedt (walk¬ ing Jlowly and gravely off).

Jenny. Here’s a pretty kettle of fifh ! who can that vile woman be ? Jack has let fomebodv into our fecret, who has betrayed us. What labour it will coft me to throw her off her guard ! but I’ll try ( takes a letter from her pocket, and looks it over). Yes, yes ; this letter will bring Jack. Hang me, if I don’t believe I have fpelt difguife wrong. Well, no matter— -the mean¬ ing is undifguifed enough ( wafers the letter ). Here Humphrey! ( fmiling , and /peaking very gently ) Humphrey !

Humphrey entering.

Come, none of your Summery.

Jenny. Nay, don’t be crofs— -you know we have made it up— here, take this letter, and carry it to my brother Jack. Come now, (ccG’/.ingly) you know I am working you the

. i . corners

A COMEDY. 6;

corners of a new handkerchief, twenty times as pretty as this ( touching that which he wears),

Humphrey. Shall I have it by Friday, when I go to Bob’s wedding ?

Jenny . Y 011 fh all. ( hell rings )

Humphrey. Well, give it me (Jnatching the let* ter). The old place, I fuppofe.

Jenny, Yes, yes, the old place ( hell again). Hang the bell— go diredtly. [Exit .

Humphrey. The wafer’s wet, ha, ha, ha! now Hie thinks I can’t read wroiting— help her fappy head ! ha, ha, ha ! I can read and wroite too, but that’s a fecret between m& and my ownfelf (looking at it all round). I would not break a fea) for the world— for that I know would be a moil unhonorable thing ; but as to a chamber¬ maid’s Wet wafer— there*- -it opens like a boil’d oylter.

’Tis a dainty fcrawl. The lines run as itraight as the zig-zag of a fcrew. (reads) tc LovingBrother,”— well that’s koind— cc cum *c .here to-morrow in your old difguife— I mean tc the (Jpelling) f— e— m— fern, (looking earneftly ) <c f–e, fe. M. by itfelf M.” Yes, it is female — cc and call yourfelf, as before, Mifs Sally Mar- *c tin.” So, fo! then that {trapping wench that I have let in fometimes, is all the while her brother Jack, (/cratches his heady and reads avain) cc There’s fomething in the wind— we cc mult make fhort work — befure you come— “ your affectionate filter, Jane.”

So Jack and Jane are a pretty pair; now, what can they be upon? that’s nothing to I— I think I won’t carry it— yes, (looks at the cor~ ners of his handkerchief) yes, I think I will— -I

F 2 will

6S THE TOWN BEFORE YOU,

will carry it — I will fee Jack in petticoats once more* - [Exit*

SCENE James’s Park .

Tippy walking backwards and forwards with an Mir of great uneafinefs — Fancourt appears*

Tippy {running towards him) O! you are come {breathlefs). I have been waiting here thefe two hours. I began to fear that you were flippery —that you were upon your tricks.

Fancourt. What, with each other ? O fye ! never. I drove to the banker’s and back as fad as the horfes of a wretched hack could carry me. In my way I met a fellow in his chariot, wko two years fince borrowed money

of me for fhoes.

Tippy. I never fhall meet fuch a fellow, for I never lend— make a point of that. Come, give me the money— my moiety of the thou- land pounds. ,

Fancourt {unwilling). Dire&ly— dire&ly — ha ! how d’ye do ? ( bowing to thofe Juppos’d to be p offing ) . Here is the— {puts his hand Jlcwly in his pocket ). Ha ! I faw you lad night {to others) a full, concert. I fhall be at the tennis-court prefently {running cff towards the top).

Tippy (following). Rot the tennis-court! give me the notes.

Fancourt . The notes! well, there are the

notes.

{Tippy locks at the notes ajlonifbedy and at Fancourt by turns).

A COMEDY.

-Tippy. Well, what are thefe?

Pancourt. What are they? why, the notes— your ihare of the thoufand pounds procured by me this morning ( carelefsiy ).

Tippy. Here are five notes, five and twenty pounds each. 7

Pancourt. What, can’t you reckon? four notes, five and twenty pounds each, make one hundred— one hundred pounds, principal mo¬ ney Dear Tippy, do not look fo thunder- ‘truck— you are very welcome. I confefs 1 had fome thoughts of making it fifty; but re¬ collecting our antient friendlhip, when I bought into the four per cents, with the reft, I re-

lerved a whole hundred for you. Good dav

Tippy. 7*

( fcne!y)^iZing him’>’ Stay’ S‘r“‘fta-V >r°u MU

Fancourt. . Nay, my good fellow, do not make an uproar in the Park; becaufe you know if you do. Tippy, I ihall be under the necellity ol relating fome little anecdotes of you, which rna.\ end in a proccflion to Newgate.

Tippy {trembling with pajjwn)? So, you have bougat nine hundred pounds flock ?

Fancourt . I have.

‘Tippy. And you are determined I Ihall touch but one.

Fancourt . Only one. Tippy.

Tippy {/mothering rage) ‘. Very well— very well. %

, Fancourt {in a paffion). Zounds! what wou’d toe man have ? an hundred pounds for only iuft walking into an old Iprawling fellow’s library

— and— the devil ! — he’s here— I’m off’- _

{runs off).

:0 THE TOWN BEFORE YOU,

Tippy- Is he ? he is— no. I’ll not run— he’s coniine towards me — I’ll not fiinch. Now you (hall fee, Mr. Fancourt, what it is to iiie a brother rafeal ill. Is not the world wide enough for our tricks, but we rmift cheat one another ? I’ll facrifice myfelf rather than not be revenged. (Fakes out his pocket book and pencil, feeming very intent).

Enter Sir Robert.

Sir Robert. Hah! there’s his Lordfliip— he fee ms very buly — perhaps I had better pals on —ho, I won’t — furely, lifter iuch a favour — Hah! my Lord, your mod obedient.

{Tippy looks at him , gazes , then continues

to write).

Well now I declare ( looks amazed). My Lord, I fay, your- moft obedient.

Tippy, Pray, Sir, who are you ?

Sir Robert. I am aftonilhed !

Tippy. Who, I fay, are you; who thus, twice have taken the freedom to addrefs me m public ? -

Sir Robert. Yfho am I? what, does not your Lordlhip know me now ? O ! perhaps the de¬ licious fmiles of the Emprefs are in your Lord- fliip’s head again— -perhaps the Poliih treaty—

perhaps - .

Tippy [in a feigned paffion). Perhaps neither

oftheie! Iam engroffed by your impertinence.

Who are you, Sir ?

Sir Robert. Who am I? why, the man who^ two hours iince, lent you a thou land pounds, principal money, to keep you from the. gripe ot the Jews. - - - *

A COMEDY.

Tifipy. A thoufand pounds. Eh, eh ! ( looking very gravely). Lent me a thoufand pounds ! Sir, (Jeizing his hand) I am full of concern for you— I fee you have been impofed on. Sir, there is a fellow about this town fo like me, that we might play the two Socias, or the two Dromios, or pafs for two brown ruffe tans grow¬ ing on the fame twig. He refembles my per- fon ; he imitates my very drefs— Sir, depend on it, he has alfo aflumed my name, and has fwindled you out of one thoufand pounds, prin* cipal money.

Sir Robert. Why, my Lord, I am thunder- ftruck. Then, what you faid to me this morn¬ ing— I mean what he laid, concerning the Be¬ gums, and the Nanfooks— —

Tippy. Was all to cozen you, depend on’t. You are cheated, I fee clearly. Sorry for you — can’t flay-— clearly cheated, Sir, depend on’t (going). / .

Sir Robert {much agitated). My Lord— my Lord, grant me a moment-— permit me to afk one queftion— do you know Mr. Fancourt ?

Tippy {with /corn). Do I know Mr. Fancourt, Sir ! there are a fort of people one may be faid to know, becaufe one meets them every where. But as to Mr. Fancourt, why, Sir, I would not keep a groom who was acquainted with fuch & —fuch a perfon.

Sir Robert. Oh !

Tippy. If you want to find his character,- you will hear of it in Bow-flreet’; if ‘/you want to find his lodgings, you muft go to St, Giles’s. Do I know Mr. Fancourt indeed ! [Exit.’

Sir Robert. Is it ground I Hand upon ? I am ^nazed — never were two men fo alike on earth.

F 4 7 The

THE TOWN BEFORE YOU,

The look-— the voice— the drefs*–but can Fancourt be a villain ? no, it is not pofiible ; to me he cannot be a villain— yet— I know not what to conjecture.

Eite Fancourt behind , grinning , and claps him

on the jhoulder .

j j t

{Turns and gazes on him). No — his looks are innocent— it is not pofiible that he can be guilty.

Fancourt . How d’ye do, Knight ? how d’ye do ?

Sir Robert. Yet I’ll try him {looks fternly). Sir, I have feen a man who tells me you are a villain.

Fancourt . ’Tis well he does not let me fee him. But who is the man — who is he. Sir ?

Sir Robert. Lord Beechgrove— the real Lord Beechgrove, Sir.

Fancourt. Hell and ten thoufand furies {afide) explain. Sir, explain! I really cannot pollibly comprehend you.

Sir Robert. He tells me. Sir, that the man you brought to me to-day, is an impoftor, and that in concert with him, you have cheated me of a thoufand pounds.

Fancourt. How, Sir, an impoftor ! {in a rage ) but I’ll be cool— I’ll be cool-— where was you told of this— where, Sir ?

Sir Robert. On this very fpot. Sir.

Fancourt {afide). Hah ! I begin to frnoke- — What, Lord Beechgrove has juft left you then ?

Sir Robert. This moment— I found him here.

Fancourt. So, this is Tippy’s damn’d re¬ venge! {afide j ha, ha, ha! O what a — ha, ha,

ha !

A COMEDY.

ha ! what a droll dog ! why, Sir, do you not know that my noble friend is the greatcft joker in England ? ha, ha, ha ! I fuppofe he might tell you there was a man about town who re- fembled him ?

Sir Robert. He did— he did fure enough— he faid they were as like as two drums.

Fancourt. Ay, ay, he plays thofe tricks con-

tinually— he is inexhauftible as a joker. O ! the rafcal ! {a fide).

Sir Robert. That’s very odd in a Privy Coun- fellor.

Fancourt. It is by way of unbending. Sir — thofe great men mud: unbend. The lion muft dandle the kid fometimes^— the villain ! ( afide ) I could tell you fuch tales of him. Hah ! here his Lordfhip comes.

Enter Tippy.

{Runs up to him ) You lhall have the other four hundred {apart).

Tippy. Ah, ah, Sir Robert — what, I frighten¬ ed you, did I?— I fhan’t trud: you {apart to, Fancourt).

Fancourt {giving him notes). Take it — here it is— the dog has been up to me this time {afide). Really, my Lord, it was not right to play on Sir Robert’s credulity. He could not know but that you might be in earned:. But I mud: particularly infid: on one thing, my Lord, that you do not fpeak of my* charaTer in fuch terms, though in jefl. The jeft which laughs away a man’s reputation, is deadly poifon admi- nidered in honey.

I won’t. What do

you

74 THE TOWN BEFORE YOU,

) on think I told him, Fancourt ? I told him you lived at St. Giles’s, ha, ha, ha !

Fane curt. No !— did you ?

Sir Robert. He did indeed, ha, ha, ha! and that you were known in Bow-ftreet, ha, ha, ha !

All. Ha, ha, ha !

Fane oh? t . Well, now I propole that we three jolly fello*s, full of good humour, and lovers of fun, dafh off to the Star and Garter— Cham- paigne and a fong fhall cheer our hearts, and fee us above the cares of the world.

Sir Robert . With all my heart. Rattle •glaffes with a Lord — h— m–m—- ( with Secret delight) it will be as good as dining with a Dutchefs.

Tippy* Come along, my little fellow ; I’ll in¬ troduce you to three Lords, and a Duke.

Fanconrt. Here then we go— j eft, mirth and pleaiure infpire us !

[Fhey take Sir Robert between them and go oF ‘wave their hots> and huzza ,

/ i

END OF THE FOURTH ACT*

A COMEDY.

I h

A C T V.

SCENE I. — Tippy’s Lodgings.

Enter Mrs. Bullrush, hinging in the Goton Jhe wore in the firfi Jcene, work bag , id c.

Mrs. Bullrujh. I’ll take poffeffion of his room ; myfelf, hang me if I don’r: {fits down) heie, am I obliged to mend my gowns inftead of buy¬ ing new ones, becaule my lodgers won t pay me [threads a, needle’). No, no, Mr. Tippy I’ll //you! I fpoke to my neighbour Holdfaft, ycfterday \ no one ever got out of his clutches yet, it once ILoldfaft touch d him on the fhouloer (works a little ), Blefs me! how my teeth tor- inent me again [puts up her handkerchief ) B e tty 1 j3etty— - bring me a little brandy to hold in my mouth. I’ll e’en go myfelf, fhe always brings jfuch a drop ! [Exit.

, Enter Tippy, with a Letter in his hand.

<fippy. Yes, yes— tell them — [/peaking gaily) no, my artful filler, it won’t do (reading) “ Wear the fame difguife, and come as Mils “ Sally Martin.-” That is not poffible— my landlady’s maid, who ufcd to lend me that fmart drels, is off. What the devil can I do ? to o-o there as a man, after having juft been there as Lord Bcechgrove, would be kicking down the miik pail with a vengeance! and yet to lofe that fweet girl and her fweet e ft ate– I can’t go — - - 1 cannot go to e>ii Kobeit s.

THIS TOWN BEFORE YOU,

pos! ol{t> runs agalnft the table)- What’s

this? my landlady’s gown ? gad it is! ( opens it) if it fits me. I’ll borrow it to perfonate Mifs; Sally Martin {puts it of). Hang me, but it does very well. She has often faid, fne would fit me, and now fhe has done it. And the fmart bonnet too {puts it on). Freeze me, but I look as well as my landlady. Who — who the devil is this ? {looking thro’ the door) Holdfast, the Bailiff? whu! I am in the jaws of the lion! {throws himfelf into a chair).

Enter Holdfast.

Holdfaft . Well, Madam, is Mr. Tippy come home ? I have been watching for him the whole day {Tippy groans). I have been hunting him through every tavern, coffee-houfe, and gaming- houfe. I have been within three minutes of him, fifteen times. O ! that I had but hold pf his fkirts ! {Tippy groans). Alack-a-day, Mrs. Bullrufh, ftill plagued with your teeth? {Tippy makes motions with his hand). Wei}, Madam, don’t fpeak. If I once catch the young villain, we fha’n’t part, {Tippy groans) I have one room double grated, and if he Aides out of that, it muff be thro’ the keyhole.

{Tippy groans, gets up, and puts Holdfaft into his chair, making motions).

Very well— -I underhand you. I’ll ftay here till you come back, Mrs. Bullrufh ; yes-— I will.

[Exit. Tippy groaning.

Poor creature ! her teeth torment her like -

what the dickens ! why there’s Mrs. Bullrufh ! ‘ (looking out) a trick ! a trick ! {bawling out) no— yes— -‘his all in white! {looks feared,) perhaps —

Mrs.

A COMEDY. 77

Mrs. Bullrufh— -Mrs. Bullrulh ! oh! (goes off trembling and frighten’d ).

SCENE II.— Sir Simon Asgill’s Counting- Houfe.—He is featedy looking melancholy and cpprefs’d,

Perkins enters — he looks at Sir Simon with

great concern .

Perkins . Sir, Sir — I pray you, Sir, fpeak!

Sir Simon, Perkins! I have carried it too far. My boy can no where be found. Why did I hit on fuch a plan ? I ought to have known that the fenfibility of his heart, and the noble- nefs of his foul, could neither fupport feeing my diftrefs, or living a ufelefs member of fociety.

Perkins . Sir, be comforted— -it is not yet noons perhaps the evening may bring us tidings.

f 1, ’• * ’ * ’ • ’ • .1 ’ 1 ’ .V’ *

Enter a Servant.

. .

A lady, Sir, defires to fee you.

Sir Simon. I can fee no lady ( petulantly ). • *

Servant . She is particularly prefling, and re- quefts to fee you alone.

Sir Simon, Who is die ?

Servant. I have never feen her. Pier fer- vants are in mourning (apaufe). Shall I con¬ duct her to the drawing-room, Sir ?

Sir Simon. No-— if I mult fee her, bring her in here. The counting-houfe of an Englifh merchant is rcfpe&able enough for the reception , " ’ ’ ‘ ’ ’ •’ of

7»

THE TOWN BEFORE YCtJ,

of a prince I fhould not be afhamed to re* ceive my king in it. {exit. Servant). Well, Perkins, you find the lady will have me’ alone— -if I was in fpirits to joke now, I could make myfelf merry at the fancy.

Perkins. Well, Sir, I hope your fpirits and your jokes will foon come back. Faith, fhe s a pretty lady [Exit,

Enter Lady Horatia.

Sir Simon . Your humble fervant, Madam. ( She curtjeys , and Jeems confuted). Pray fit down.

Lady Horatia. I thank you. {He ftands by her chair— floe fans her/ elf).

Sir Simon. You fee m faint. Madam.

Lady Horatia. No, Sir— no. In a moment I fhall be better.

Sir Simon. Not ufed, perhaps, to the buftle of driving thro’ the City ?

Lady Horatia. Not often. O ! how fhall I begin? my heart burfts with feeling, yet my tongue cannot give it utterance {ajide). '

Sir Simon. Pray may I afk— -what brought you here to-day ?

Lady Horatia. To-day, Sir — I came to-day {breathlefs) on a bufinefs fo important— that— * I fcarcely know how to mention it. Sir— but— you have a nephew {looking on her fan).

Sir Simon. I hope fo, Ma’am.

Lady Horatia. You have heard of Lad v Ho¬ ratia Horton, y

Sir Simon. Heard of her— yes— I have heard of her !

Lady

A COMEDY.

Lady Horatia. It is believ’d, Sir, that Mr. Aigill has fome regard for her.

Sir Simon . I hope not. My nephew, I be¬ lieve, knows better than to regard fuch a gill- flirt.

Lady Horatia. Gill-flirt! Lady Horatia Hor¬ ton, a gill-flirt.

Sir Simon. Yes— -the greatelt gill-flirt I ever faw in my life.

Lady Horatia ( rifing ). Ah, he means Geor¬ gina, who faw him yefterday. I am fo con- j filled, I know not how to explain ( afide ). y-.

Sir Simon . My nephew in love with a done- cutter !

Lady Horatia. Sir !

Sir Simon. A hewer of marble ! why he may as well live in a quarry.

Lady Horatia. Monftrous ! ( afide ).

Sir Simon. Her ftudy is a work-lhop— her drawing-room a mafon’s faw-yard.

Lady Horatia {afide). Infupportable ! can this be the uncle of Sidney Afgill ?

Sir Simon . There fhe chi dels out wt>- S mens* faces with young ferpents hanging in drop curls, by way of a new fafhion’d tete.

Lady Horatia {in great warmth ). Nay, I l can bear it no longer ! Sir, this more than gothic

ignorance, is a difgrace to the age in which we live, and to your own fltuation. The head of the beautiful Medusa is amongft the wonders of the art. O ! the more than martial fkill,

I which could make beauty horrible 7

Sir Simon. Hey ! The dumb lady cured I, f what is fhe crazy ?

Lady Horatia. At the fame place you faw r ’ (with

So TrfE TOWN BEFORE YOU,

( with enthufiajm) the touching Niobe, mourn¬ ing over her children j— ’the light Atalanta flying from her lover— the graceful Ganymede caught up to Olympus for his beauty, did nont of thofe flrike ye ? none of thofe awaken your adoration for the fublime art*— for Sculpture! whofe long enduring beauties bid defiance to time, and laugh at ages !

Sir Simon (finging ). u I am mad Befs, believe me.”

Lady Horatia, Your coarfenefs. Sir* is hardly to be borne 1 how different from yours is the mind of yoUr nephew ! he has fat whole hours admiring thofe wonders of the art, and patiently watching the ftrokes of the chiffel, which pre- fumed at diftant imitation.

Sir Simon . It is the firft inftance of his folly I ever heard. I thought Sidney had been a dif¬ ferent fort of a man.

Lady Horatia . I fuppofe you have been em¬ ploying your talents to the more exalted pur- pofes of importing verdigreafe, and blubber, and in making monopolies.

Sir Simon , Monopolies 1 no. Madam, never ! there is one monopoly, and only one, to which I give my afient may the pofterity of Englifh- men continue to monopolize this little ifland, as long as the fea fills its channel, or the winds blow upon its rocks ! have you any commifiion for me, Madam ?

Lady Horatia . CommiiTion — Sir-— I came — I intended— it was my defign— no. Sir, I have no commifiion.

Sir Simon, When you have, Madam, I fhall be happy to lee you again, but I really have not

had

A COMEDY. . 81

.. % .

_ " r ?• ♦

Lad time to read my letters, which I muft beg to do diredtly. Order the lady’s carriage.

Lady Horatia. Sir — I really feel myfelf fo infulted that— perhaps. Sir — but no matter. Perhaps you are right— yes, Sir, you are very right (goes out weepings yet with dignity).

Sir Simon. Perkins! come in Perkins! ( he enters) why I was never fo ftunn’d in my life. Here’s, a woman comes on pretence to fpeak about my nephew, and then begins fome gib¬ berish about fculpture,— and talks of Gany¬ mede, and Atalanta, and Olympus, and fuch vile tralh as lads learn out of Ovid; books, that if I was a member of parliament. I’d bring in a bill to make it felony for any bookfeller to vend.

Perkins. It would do you more honor. Sir,

than any canal bill, bill for roads, or any other improvement that was ever brought before the. Houfe.

Conway enters .

Sir Simon. Hali, Mr. Conway, what news-— what news ? ( running towards him).

Conway. Alas ! none, Sir. I have follow’d our poor Sidney by every pofiible clue that I could obtain ; but he has pafs’d away like a vapour— - not a trace remains ( fighing ).

Sir Simon . O ! fye— O ! fye. ( [baking his head with a melancholy air).

■ Conway. I fuppofe Lady Horatia Horton has been here to make enquiries.

Sir Simon. Who ?

Conway i

£* THE TQWM BEFORE YOU,

Ccnway. Lady Horatia Horton. She ftept into her carriage as I came up to the gate — but lhe feem’d to be weeping, fo I avoided her.

Perkins. Blefs me. Sir-— there has been fome miftake. {to Sir Simon)

Sir Simon . I don’t know— I am all in a w’ood l why, was that lady in mourning, Lady Horatia Horton ?

Conway. Affuredly.

Sir Simon. Why ’tis quite a different perfon from her I faw, yefterday, at her houfe.

Conway ( Jmiling ). O yes, ha, ha — I have heard about that. The lady you faw was quite a, different perfon.

Sir Simon. Gad I hope I fhall never have the luck to fee her again.

Conway. Why, Sjr ?

Sir Simon. I can’t endure her.

Conway ( angrily ). Sir ! not endure her l why, fhe is the moft charming of her fex. That lady, Sir, has more fwcctnefs of difpofition, more playful innocence of heart, and more beauty than half the women in the world.

Sir Simon. I hope I may form a different opi¬ nion, Mr. Conway.

Conway. No, Sir— no man fhall form a dif¬ ferent opinion-— or if he does, he muff take care to conceal it in my pre fence.

Sir Simon. I fhall take no care. Sir. I will ufe the freedom of an Englifhman to fpeak all I think of you, and of every man, and of every woman too. How dared five affume a character fhe was not ?— how dared lhe fay fuch things of my nephew to my face ?

Conway, r

A COMEDY* 83

‘Conway, Sir! whatever that lady fays, I make myfelf anfwerable for.

Perkins. O, Gentlemen, let me entreat you ! — you will both be forty- — you have been both too warm.

Conway. I advife you to perfuade Sir Simon that he has been fo ! — I fhall expeft his apology.

[Exit.

Sir Simon {flaring). Why, what’s in the wind to-day, Perkins ! I affront every one who comes near me, without deftgning it, I am fure.

Perkins. Your temper has been a little ruffled. Sir ; you are fore about Mr. Afgill.

Sir Simon. Sore indeed ! and my heart will be fore foon, as well as my temper, if 1 do not hear of him. But about tfcis Lady Horatia — ftis very odd ! what could bring her here ? per¬ haps fhe came to tell me fome news. I think I will go to her.

Perkins. It would be beft, Sir.

Sir Simon. I certainly will— after change. But I hope I fhall not fee her. marble mon~ Jlers again — they’ll put me out of forts if I do. What a tafte !

Perkins. Dear Sir, any tafte is better than 1:0 tafte, and a lady who employs her thoughts and her chiffel on works of art, is, at leaft, not idle ; and, therefore, as Dodlor Johnfon fays, not. in the way of being wicked. [ Exeunt .

SCENE

THE TOWN BEFORE YOtT,

SCENE changes to Sir Robert’s Drawing «

Room .

Enter Tippy, with Humphrey.

Humphrey. Why, what a noddy have I been, to take this ftrapper always for a girl ! ( afide ).

Tippy. What is the oaf grinning at ? do as I bid you — tell Mrs. Jenny her friend Mifs Sally Martin is here.

[Humprey goes out , making faces . Gad, I had a good run. I was hardly fafe in the hack, before the bailiff and my landlady were in purluit.

Enter Jenny,

fenny. O! Jack, I am fo - -

Tippy. Hufh ! come to the point. I am in. danger every moment that I flay. What pro- grefs have you made with your miftrefs 1 What is to be done ?

Jenny. Why what is to be done, is to get her any way into your power— -once get her to your lodgings, and a marriage muft follow.

Tippy ( fneeringly ). Good!

Jenny. I have prevail’d on her to go with me alone, to the famous wax-work. She knows not where it is, fo I’ll bring her in a hack to your lodgings; and then— -mercy! here fhe comes-— what fhall we do ?

Tippy . Do!- -upon my foul fire’s a fweet creature ! I hope fhe won’t deted the Con- noifcur, in petticoats,

Sm * > I . / X . i ) * ■

’ ’ ’ Georcina

A COMEDY,

Georgina enters — Tippy hows very low — recovers himjelft and curtfeys.

Georgina . Blefs me, Jenny— who is this ?

Jenny . A - ftranger Ma’am-— a lady that.

Did you not fay, Madam, that you ran into the hall to avoid fome gentlemen who were rude to you ? {to \ Tippy ) and then, Mils, that blunder¬ ing fellow, Humphrey, brought him up — I mean brought the lady up here.

’ Tippy . Yes, Ma’am, he brought me lip here. Really a modelt woman can hardly walk the Greets, men are fo impertinent. One gentle¬ man feiz’d my hand ; d-— n you, Sir, fays I — I mean I faid, blefs me, Sir, I beg you won’t be rude.

Georgina . A very odd lady, Jenny !

Tippy. Curfe the petticoats ! Madam I fcorn to impole on you— no, Madam, I have a foul above it — I am not a lady. I put on this dif- guife to procure admiffion here, that I might tell you how I adore you. Madam ( kneeling ) my palTion for you is fo great, that if you do not look on me with pity-— if you do not liften to me with companion—- — * {Jenny Jhrieks)f

Sir Robert enters , with Fancourt,

Sir Robert . A lady at my daughter’s feet ! ( Tippy ft arts up) fome great favour fure fhe is afking. What djd you fhriek for ?

Jenny . Shriek, Sir— -O, Sir, the poor lady —-fhe was faying as how that fhe had a cruel hufband— I never heard of fuch a villain ! and ’ 0iC was deploring Mifs to fpeak to you in the

Q 3 affair,

S 6

THE TOWN BEFORE YOU,

affair, for you know him. He fee ms a moll fwect young fellow, ‘Ma’am, it would be great pity to betray him ! [aside)

Georgina (to herjelf). The Savoyard! O, I remember all at this moment !

Sir Robert . Do I know your hufband. Ma’am ! Pray do not wheel round in this manner — there’s nothing fhameful in having a bad huf¬ band — if there were, few married women would care to fhew their faces.

Tippy [in a prill voice). O, Sir, I fhould die with confufion. (ftill keeping his back to Sir Robert ). ’ *

Sir Robert. Pray, Madam, is the faults// your hufband’s ?

Tippy. O, entirely, Sir j — my behaviour to him is quite angelic.

Sir Robert . I dare lay your face is angelic, if one could but fee it [ftill wheeling to get a peep at her). Perhaps you live a little too gaily for him, poor man !

Tippy. Not at all ! I am a pattern of prudence t— generally at home by four in the morning,. Charming creature ! pity my diftrefs ! [in his Own voice to Georgina).

Georgina. Pray Ma’am turn, and fhew your-* felf to my Papa, and if you tell him the fame affedling ftory you began to me - ■

Jenny [apart). Nay pray, Ma’am, do not betray him ! how can you have the heart l he would die rather than do you an ill turn. Did you obferve what teeth he has ?

Georgina. Sweet lady, fpeak! a defign fo pure, and eloquence fo irrefutable, will ‘afFeft Sir Robert as it ought.

Fan courts

A COMEDY.

Fancourt. Sweet lady turn round ! gad, there’s fome fudge here — I am fure there is. Sir Robert take my advice — look in the lady’s face.

Sir Robert ( goes to her). Nay, Madam, ’tis in vain. I will fee your bright eyes, or never -—(Tippy trips up Sir Robert, and then attempts to run off),

Fancourt . A Thalaftris, by Jupiter! (feizing Tippy) nay, I will have a peep, fpite of your dexterity, Mifs ! (Tippy ft niggles) come, to the right about ! by Heavens this mufl be a man — Sir Robert, I fmell a rat (turns him). Zounds ! what Tippy ! I am a bit of a Marplot here. This comes of your entrufling your friends by. halves (apart).

Sir Robert. What it is a man, then ! I thought it was the mod robufl damfel I had ever met with.

Fancourt , Get out of the houfe (puffing him). You might well hide your face! get out, or I will make, you ihew it at the Old Bailey (drives him out).

Sir Robert . Who is he ?

Fancourt . Oh, a feltow who lives by his wits; one whofe flock in trade is all in the pia mater . (, touching his forehead).

Sir Robert (to Georgina ). How came he here in this difguife? where have you feen him? I infill on knowing the truth.

Fancourt . She fee ms fadly puzzled — the girl has been taught that ’tis a fin to tell lies.

Sir Robert. Why don’t you ipeak, Georgina? come be bold ! your prompter I fee is at your tdbow,

G 4 . fenny.

THE TOWN BEFORE YOU,

Jenny. Pray fpeak, Mifs. Say it is your Haymaker, {afide)

Georgina. Yes, I will fpeak. I alTure you. Sir, ( taking her father’s hand ) I never faw that perfon till now ; but a circumftance which, 1 believe, muft relate to him, has flruck my recollection, and makes me fhudder.

Sir Robert. What is it, child ?

Georgina. Sir — I — yeiterday, Sir, I had my fortune told.

Sir Robert . Pho !

Georgina. Nay, Sir, mine was no common fortune-teller ; fhe was man in difguife.

certainly a well-bred wo

Sir Robert. Why, what did fhe fay to you l Georgina . She told me that two men — two mod unprincipled monfters, had laid a plot for my definition ( he Jlarts ). Her difguife was that of a Savoyard, with mufic.

Fancourt. Whu ! ( afide.)

Sir Robert. I remember you ran though the library to go to liften to her.

Fancourt. Pray — pray, Madam, what fort of a perfon was this pretended Savoyard P

Georgina. An agreeable little woman, with eyes full of intelligence, and manners full of good fenfe.

Fancourt. Yes, it was my “devil, I fee clearly. ( afide.) * " - *

Georgina. This feeming lady is probably one of the two men I had notice of, who introduced himfelf here, to carry on defigns which make me tremble.

Sir Robert. I believe you do, my dear. I never faw you fo grave, nor heard you talk fa difcreetly before 5 a little fright has done you

good

A COMEDY,

good. ^ May you never ceafe to tremble, Georgina, when you recoiled the hazards of this hour !

Georgina . You, Jenny, have always nourilh’d my follies, and cherifh’d my abfurdities ; I will never hold communication with you more. Go diredly to the houfe keeper, receive your wages, and leave my father’s houfe. Begone !

Jenny. Why, fhe can never mean this in earned: ; this muff be all fudge before her father. (goes hefitatingly.)

Sir Robert. O ! that every mifguided daughter would retrieve her errors before it be too late, and, like you, take Jhelter in the arms of a fond and forgiving father ! ( embracing her.) My dear Georgina, I wifh thou hadft either a mo¬ ther, or a hufband !

Fancourt. A mod: edifying fcene, this ! (afide.)

Sir Robert. Mr. Fancourt, you know who this fellow is.

Fancourt. Not abfolutely know him- — I have feen him ; and I will trace him out. Sir, if it be pofiible. And Til find your little Savoyard too. Madam; your pretty fortune-teller; it /hall go hard but I’ll meet with her l [Exit.

Georgina. O ! I wifh he may difcover her, for I lhall cherifh burning gratitude towards her, to the lad: hour of my exiftenQe ! My dear Sir, I feel’like ontT of our little Welch kids at ; home, trembling on die brink of a monftrous precipice, when its fond parent ap¬ pears, arid guides back its feeble* fteps, po crop the flow’ry herbage in fafety.

[Led out by her father .

**■.

SCENE

THE TOWN BEFORE YOU,

SCENE — Lady Horatia’s Drawing-room.

She enter S’, meeting Sir Simon.

Sir Simon (entering). Madam, your rnofi obedient. J I did not know that you were Lady Horatia Horton this mornings fo I came to apologize, and all that.

Lady Horatia. An unncefiary trouble. Sir. ( coldly.)

Sir Simon. Not at all. Madam, not at all. If I offend, I am always ready to make amends. A little gipfey yefterday took your name, and railed at Sidney s I could not bear it.

Lady Horatia. And was it therefore. Sir, that you infulted my art ? Was it therefore that you laughed at, and abufed my -

Sir Simon. Your monfters, Madam. O ! keep clear of them, whatever you do 1 Don’t talk of them !

Lady Horatia. Why, is this’poflible ?

Sir Simon. Madam, this life is too fhort to fquander time upon trifles s fo, let us come to the point ! I am told that you have a-great re¬ gard for my nephew, and I love and admire you for it s talk of him, and we fhall agree to the end of the chapter.

Lady Horatia. The perfon who told you fo. Sir* took an unwarrantable freedom.

Sir Simon. Why, you told me fo yourfelf. Would any lady fly into the city, to talk to a crofs old fellow about his nephew, if fhe had not fet her heart upon him ? Pho ! pho 1 that fpoke your fentiments pretty plainly.

Lady

A COMEDY.

Lady Horatia (peeping with vexation). O dear ! I tell you, I hate your nephew ?

Sir Simon. Do you? O, you woman ! You downright woman ! I fee how it is. When he was rich, you loved him ; when you looked forward to fine equipage, fplendour and ex¬ pence, you acknowledged his merits ; but now that you have heard he is poor, you defpife him. O ! woman, woman !

Lady Horatia ( with heat). Sir, it is falfe. You injure me in every part of your opinion. When he was rich, he never knew that he had caufed a tender thought in me ; it was only his poverty that made my paflion break out with¬ out difguife. It was his diftrefs that made me feel, and acknowledge I adore him.

Sir Simon. What, then, you do love him ?

Lady Horatia ( much confufed). What have I faid ?

Sir Simon. What you ought never to recak Speak on ; you now talk like a fenfible wo¬ man.

Lady Horatia. Well, then, receive my full confelTion. You, his fecond father ! Mr. AD gill has twined himfelf into my foul 3 his po¬ verty has endeared him to me a thoufand times. Go, Sir, fearch him out ; bring him from his retreat, and tell him, that Horatia Horton knows no value in wealth, but in the plea- fure of dividing it with him.

Sir Simon . Eluzza, huzza ! here’s a woman for ye ! Madam, he is not poor. I’ll put down for Afgill thoufand for thoufand, as long as you pleafe, and when I die, leave him a plumb !

Lady Horatia. Sir !

Sir Simon . It was all a fagacioys trick of

mine,

$2 THE TOWN BEFORE YOU,

mine. I wanted to try if the dear lad really -loved me, and if he poflefTed real worth of foul. Sentiments, truly noble, he often ut¬ tered ; but noble fentiments are uttered by fcoundrels, who do not poffefs one feeling, which, if brought to the touchftone, would not dilgrace humanity.

Lady Horatia. Mr. Afgill not poor ! {pauftng.’) Nay, then I underftand the flimfy contrivance. A pitiful plot, to force me to reveal a lecret, which I chofe to bury in the bottom of my heart. Prefuming ! ( haughtily .) Make me a dupe ! Now, Sir, know that your nephew rich, and your nephew poor, are two diltincd perfons. I deteft his art, and recal all I have laid. The rich Mr. Afgill, I fhall teach myfelf henceforward to defpife. [Exit,

Sir Simon. Whu ! Why, what’s in the wind now ? Upon my foul, I would rather call up the moll intricate account of compound intereft, than attempt to calculate what will pleafe a woman, Refufe a man becaufe he is rich ! ! !

Enter Perkins.

Verkins. O, Sir! I followed you here with-, out your permifTion, my tidings are fo good* Mr. Afgill is found,

Sir Simon. Ah, Perkins, I faw it in thy eyes, without a word. Thou art an honed fellow, Perkins ( fqaeezing his hand). In what dreet or alley was he found ?

Perkins. Street, Sir ! A very wide, and a. very turbulent dreet. You will be furprifed to hear. I employed my own brother in the bu- finefs. Pie traced him lad night down to

Portf-

A COMEDY.

Portfmouth, where he had entered himfelf on board a man of war before the maft !

Sir Simon. Oh !

Perkins. Nay, come, Sir, he is returned.

Sir Simon. Is he come back ?

Perkins. William prevailed on him ; put him into a chaife and four, and brought him back to his own lodgings.

Sir Simon . Come along, come along ! It final! be the belt day William ever faw. [Exit.

SCENE — Fan court’s.

Enter Fancourt, followed by Mrs . Fan-

court.

Fancourt ( carelejsly ). Yes — no, my dear — -

yes- -

Mrs. Fancourt. I hope you have been well amufed fmee yeflerday, Mr. Fancourt ?

Fancourt. Perfedtly fo, Mrs. Fancourt.

Mrs. Fancourt . You fhou’d let me know when you do not mean to return. It is rather unpleafant to fit up all night watching.

Fancourt. O ! you can find amufement.

Mrs. Fancourt. Flow ?

Fancourt. You are fond of mafquerading, you know.

Mrs. Fancourt. I do not underftand you ; I never was at more than one mafquerade, nor ever formed a wifh to repeat it. >

Fancourt. And the habit you then wore, I remember, was that of a Savoyard.

Mrs. Fancourt (farting). It was.

Fancourt , And did you then tell fortunes too.?

Mrs.

the town before you,

Mrs . Fancourt ( afide ). I die with fear. Surely*

I am betrayed.

Fancourt {/sizing her hand)y Come, tejl me. Madam, have you not lately repeated the fcene of the Savoyard ?

Mrs. Fancourt. Sir! O! he will have no mercy on me ! ( trembling .)

Fancourt. But, why need I afk ? I know you have. That fortune-telling was a pretty thought, my dear ; but did it occur to you to tell your own fortune ? Did you foretel to your- lelf your own fate on the diicovery.

Mrs. Fancourt. Alas ! I know too well I mull expedt all that malice and revenge can infpire ; but if I have faved an innocent from deft ruc¬ tion, and turned away the arrow which was about to pierce the heart of her benevolent father, I am reftgned.

Enter two Men .

• A

Fancourt. Who are you, who enter with fo little ceremony into my apartments P

ift Man. What, Mafter Fancourt, don’t you remember us ? Mayhap you’ll know this P ( taking a conft able’s ftaff from his pocket.)

2 d Many And this P ( drawing forth another.)

i ft Man. Here is a coach waiting below with two of our companions ; fo the quicker you are, the better.

Fancourt {pale and trembling). This fudden furprife has overpowered me. On whofe ac¬ count do I fee you P

t ft Man. You’ll know that in proper time. I never likes to anfwer trogatories.

ft an court. Where am I going* P

A COMEDY.

2d Man. You’ll fee when we arrive.

Fancourt . Wherever it is, I will not flir without this woman. She fhall accompany me wherever I go.

2d Man. Why, you have a very fond huf- band, Madam.

Mrs . Fancourt . Not fo ; but he is my huf- band : I therefore follow without a murmur.

Fancourt . Go find ; I will not leave you in the room ? [Exit Mrs . Fancourt .

Come, gentlemen, let us follow the lady. Bear witnefs that I am a polite hufband to the laft. [Exit,

SCENE — Sir Robert V Drawing-room.

He enters with a troubled air.

Sir Robert. A fad, fad fiut ! Why, what a town this is ! A ftranger, like me, fhould go about in leading-firings. Plotters, deceivers in every corner of it. Whether the people one affociates with, are what they appear to be, or whether it may not be all one univerfal maf- querade, there is no guefling. ( Goes and opens the door.) Come — come forth !

Jenny comes out , and walks to the front. He looks at her earneftly.

Now art thou a woman, or a griffin, prithee tell me r

Jenny. Dear Sir, I can tell you no more than I have ; I have confefs’d every thing ; and, on

THE TOWN BEFORE YOU,

my bended knees, I afk for mercy. ( ‘kneeling ) I am not a griffin. Sir.

Sir Robert. Get up ; your flummery of kneel¬ ing has no effedt. How far I ffiall have mercy on a wretch, who plann’d the dishonour of my child, I ffiall conftder. I have never met with lb atrocious a jade, fmce the year I was high ffieriff for the county. Retire. Your brother, my Lord Beechgrove, approaches.

Jenny {ft anting up). I care not that for your fneers ! (J. napping .her fingers.) I’ll teach you* my old gentleman, what it is for fixty to have the impudence to flight five and twenty. I have wafted as many tender bluffies, foft ogles, and enamoured glances on your fhrivelftd chops, as might have fubdued half the gallant foldiers in the allied armies s but I’ll be up with you yet !

[Exit.

Sir Robert. O, a huffy ! What a fad thing it is for a young man, like me, to have wanted gallantry.

Tippy enter t .

My Lord, I am your lordffiip’s mofi obe¬ dient. Why, you have made great hafte in undreffing, t my lord ; you are a quick hand at a toilette, I fee.

Tippy ( looking aghaft ). Hey !

Sir Robert. I did not exadtly know, at firft, how to aired; to you, to fummon your lordfliip hither, but your After, the lady Jenny, help’d me out - Mr. Tippy !

Tippy ( aftde ). The devil !

Sir Robert . Pray, when do you publiffi. Sir ?

Your

A COMEDY.

Your life muft be an amufing one. Put me down as a fubfcriber.

Tippy ( afide ). Nay, fince all is out, I’ll brazen it. Iil put you down for fomething elle, Sir, when I publifh.

Sir Robert. Aye.

Tippy. Be allured the public fhall not want the dory of Taffy , the Welch knight; who came up a wool-gathering from Glamorgan- fhire, after Begums, Nanfooks, and Patna-rice.

Sir Robert. Well, well, I feel that I deferve this, fo I take it patiently. Here comes more company ; fome of your friends, my lord.

Fancourt enters , Mrs. Fancourt, and Con -

Jlables. Sir Robert nods to the Conjiables ,

vsho retire .

Fancourt. So, Tippy - all is up !

Tippy. Faith, I think, all is down — we have rather a tumble.

Fancourt. Be it fo ! I have aim’d high ; re- folved if I did fall, to fall from an eminence. Well, Sir Knight, you’ll give us a bottle of Champaigne at parting, and let us be merry once again ! You thought it celeftial happinefs, kit night, to get tipfey with a lord, and hear him roar out an indecent catch. Do you re¬ member, Tippy, how he oped his mouth, and how his eyes water’d with joy ? Ha, ha !

Sir Robert. I can bear all this, for I really have been fo prepofteroufly ridiculous, that, I think, I deferve even more than your malice can fugged.

Fancourt , lc I fay, Snapper, we muft have him on our fide.” Ha, ha, ha! <f The old

PI fcoun-

98 THE TOWN BEFORE YOU,

fcoundrel had like to have undone us {ftps’). He is a great fool, but he is related to all the ap Morgans, and ap Shonefes in the county.’ ’ Ha, ha, ha ! That was well, I never hook’d a gudgeon with fo little trouble in my life !

Georgina rujhes in.

It is, it is herfelf ! My charming Savoyard, how I rejoice to fee you ! You are my mother, filler, friend -

Fancourt ( going up to Mrs. Fan court). . You, Madam, to whofe officioufnefs my friend and I, owe our difgrace — you fhall be rewarded. Now lifben ( feizing her hand ), for I am going

to plunge a dagger into your heart - you are

not my wife. ( flinging away her hand.)

Mrs. Fancourt. Not your wife?

Fancourt . No. Your affedlation and delicacy would not permit you to be married in a Church , you may remember, fo I took advan¬ tage of your folly, and brought a man, who was never prieft till that moment.

Fippy. It is very true, and I am he ; it was I who married you. ( bowing low)

Mrs. Fancourt . Can it be pofiible ? Do I hear right ? Am I’ releas’d from obedience to a man whom I abhor ? Is it no longer my duty to affociate with vice ? Is it no longer my fate to eat the bread of wickednefs ? O, blifsful moment !

Fippy. I am furprifed you feel fo ; he is a very good kind of young man.

Mrs. Fancourt. O ! welcome poverty and want !

Georgina. Never! Your fate is united to i mine.

A COMEDY.

mine. You are my mother, lifter, friend! I muft quit you a few moments, for Lady Ho- ratia Horton has fent Mr. Conway for me $ but I will leave you in my own apartment. My father’s roof is your everlafting protection !

Fancourt . This is, indeed, a ftroke ! Is fhe to be happy ?

Sir Robert. Yes, that fhe fliall, if my pro¬ tection can make her fo.

Mrs . Fancourt . Unhappy man, farewell 1 The ruin gf my peace and fortune I can forgive ! O ! whilft innocence and friendfhip invite me to repofe, may you find it in repentance .

[Georgina leads her out .

Sir Robert . And now, gentlemen, leave my houfe this moment, or the next you fhall be returned into the hands of the conftables. Go ! turn out upon the world !

Fancourt . We will turn out upon the world; fo let the world beware ! Come, Tippy, the held before us is a wide one - -let us ereCt our

banners ! F alents are our armed forces, with which we encounter Vanity and FolU. When¬ ever they appear, we wage war. Allons ! (to Fippy.) Be of good heart, my boy ! The foe is numerous, but weak. Conqueft and pillage are our own ! [Fhey go off.

Sir Robert (looking after them). I am glad you are off! Thefe gentlemen have given me fome amufement, together with fome experience, and it has coft me only one thoufand pounds

— a cheap bargain ! [Exit.

H 2

SCENE

IDO

THE TOWN BEFORE YOU,

SCENE— ‘Lady Horatia’s Drawing-room.

Lady Horatia enters , accompanied by Lady

Charlotte.

Lady Horatia. No — no — Adieu to low Iplrits for ever ! My heart is as light as the feather in your hair ; I know all ; Mr. Conway has told me every thing ; there was no plot on me ! No, my Afgill has proved himfelf in the hour of trial, as noble, as delicate, as brave as my fancy had always painted him.

Lady Charlotte. Well, happinefs is a mod be¬ coming thing ; it gives fire and expreffion to every feature. But can it be poffible that Mr. Afgill fhould defign to ferve as a failor ? I thought the party with whom he — *—

Lady Horatia. Mention parties at an hour like this ! O ! let fueh diftin&ions melt into air, and be obliterated for ever ! Let every party join hand and heart to fave this country, and to cherilli its blessed constitution !

Lady Charlotte. See, here comes Georgina, playing the little tyrant with her enamour’d Conwy.

Enter Conway leading Georgina.

Georgina . I protefi: I will not hear fuch things, Mr. Conway. ( fnatches away her hand) Why will you teaze me thus P Lady Horatia, I beg you chide him ; for he has been talking nonfenfe to me all the way in vour coach.

Lady Horatia. It will give him more plea¬ sure if you chide him. Nay, I will be more

A COMEDY. I0I

malicious ftill, fpitc of your frowns ; I abso¬ lutely will tell you -

✓

Georgina puts her hand to Lady Horatio’s mouth. You do not hate him.

Conway. O ! that found is biifs to me !

Georgina. Ah, but I am fure I do not love him. ,

Conway . How do you know, angel ?

Georgina . W hy, I never keep wakeful about

I you, nor ever dream about you. And 1 do not grow pale, like Mifs Gwatkin ; and I eat my breakfeft with pleafure, and I dine very well; and if I do not fee yoti for a whole day together, I only think - well, to¬

morrow I Hi all be more lucky.

Conway (in rapture ). Enough, enough- _ -

| more than I hoped. On thefe terms I am con- | cent to bind my fate to yours. Such artlefs | candour renders you enchanting.

R Gcoi gina. Well, then–* but do not fpeak to | my papa about it for whole week. Blefs me— | here s old Simon, (runs to the top , followed by I Conway.)

Enter Sir Simon, with Asgill, in a jailor’s drejs,

|| Sit Simon. Here, Madam, I have brought j ye your Tailor; and if you do not receive him with kindnels, and welcome him back with your whole foul, you are no woman for me !

AJglll (rujhing to her feet). Adored miftrefs of my heart ! am I welcome ?

Lady Horatia. Welcome ! O, Algill, there are . characters fo high, fo noble, that to be chained in by common decorums, would be to have no tafte for excellence, and my heart

hounds

102

THE tOWN BEFORE YOU,

bounds with difdain from fuch frozen rules ! I, who have hitherto treated you with coldnefs, almofl: bordering on difdain, now declare, in the prefence of my friends, that I am proud to make you mailer of my fate ; that I feel exalted in having it in my power to confer happinefs on you.

Afgill (fifing). O ! woman unequall’d ! -

Bleifed be the hour in which you believed me poor and undone ! Sir Simon has been feeding my foul with exftacy.

Lady Horatia . Mr. Afgill, you mull, indeed, love Sir Simon ; but I know not how I fhall fet about doing fo ; he hates the arts ; he thinks there is nothing dignified in fculpture ; he hears, without veneration, the names of Phidias, and Michael Angelo.

Sir Simon . Come, come, Madam, throw away your chifel and your marble blocks, and fet about making a good wife. That ART is the nobleft pride of an Englifhwoman.

Lady Charlotte. Lady Horatia, you are all fmiles ! I declare I Ihould not fo eafily have forgiven a man ( looking on Afgill) who could fly from me to the boilterous ocean, and prove fuch infenfibility to beauty and love.

Afgill . Misjudge me not ! I, infenfible to beauty, and to love ! O ! my glowing foul confefifes their force, and adores their power. Yet the enthufiafm which feized me, when I trod the deck of the Viftory, can never be chill’d ! In the glorious tars around me, va¬ lour, intrepidity, heroifm, fhone forth with all their fires ; they flafhed through my heart ! And, I fwear, that fhould my country need my alliltance, I will again relume the trowfers,

and

A COMEDY.

103

and fail before the mail, wherever lhe bids her cannon roar, or her proud pendants fly.

( Advancing forward)

Ah ! repofe on us ! And when you look on the gallant ipirits, who do honour to this habit, let every fear fubfide ; for, whilft the fea flows, and Englifh failors are themf elves, Eng¬ land MUST BE THE MISTRESS OF THE GLOBE!

THE END.

EPILOGUE,

Miss WALLIS.

J. HROUGH five long A&s — a pretty decent fwiog— * I’ve been a giddy, tender, harmlefs thing ;

Light as a feather, in the morn of May,

Berne by the perfum’d breath of blue-eyed day.

Nor have I yet thrown by my jhidied part,

Georgina, Hill I am, in garb, and heart —

Georgina humbly Hands again before ye.

Of gratitude fo full ! — Hie half adores ye.

It puzzles me to guefs, when Conway’s wife.

On what fweet plan to form my married life :

My heart beats high to think how I ihall flafh. Pre-eminent, and bold, like Lady Dafh.

Reflection ne’er to me Ihall be a damper.

My curricle I’ll drive — on horleback feamper —

Keep Pharo Banks — take the long odds at races.

And know the knowing ones, in all their paces;

Lounge at Newmarket in the betting-rooms.

And prate to Lady Harriet — and my grooms.

But whilft 1 thus blaze on, in Folly’s road.

And profligate, forfake my hlefl abode —

Where is my hulband’s peace ? — his honour — where ? Who fhall his lonely hours confole, and (hare ?

O ! the black profpcct fcares my trembling art.

And from the headlong precipice 1 flart.

Dear redded bappinejs ! my foul is thine.

My pride fhall be, in thy mild paths ro fhine— - My Conwai temperate joys I’ll make my own.

And his felicity my life fh.all crown ;

With bun through Pleafure’s paths I’ll fometimes roam* But Hill my Jlrji enjoyment, fhall be home.

The Jioufehold Gods ten thoufand grates wear.

Nor Hoop to borrow tinfel’d, fortign glare —

Vet never ihall your Houlehold Deities frown,

Though you fhould Heal an hour, to fee—’ The Town