صور الصفحة
PDF
النشر الإلكتروني
[blocks in formation]

SCENE I.-A room at Sir W. Wealthy's.
Enter SIR WILLIAM WEALTHY, and MR.
RICHARD WEALTHY.

Sir Wil. Come, come, brother; I know the world. People, who have their attention eternally fixed upon one object, can't help being a little narrow in their notions.

R. Weal. A sagacious remark that! and highly probable, that we merchants, who maintain a constant correspondence with the four quarters of the world, should know less of it than your fashionable fellows, whose whole experience is bounded by Westminster-bridge.

Sir Wil. Nay, brother, as a proof that I am not blind to the benefit of travelling, George, you know, has been in Germany these four years.

R. Weal. Where he is well grounded in gaming and gluttony; France has furnished him

with fawning and flattery; Italy equipped him with capriols and cantatas; and thus accoinplished, my young gentleman is returned with a cargo of whores, cooks, valets de chambre, and fiddle-sticks, a most valuable member of the British commonwealth.

Sir Wil. You dislike, then, my system of education?

R. Weal. Nost sincerely.
Sir Wil. The whole?

R. Weal. Every particular. Sir Wil. The early part, I should imagine, might merit your approbation?

R. Weal. Least of all. What, I suppose, because he has run the gauntlet through a public school, where, at sixteen, he had practised more vices than he would otherwise have heard of at sixty!

Sir Wil. Ha, ha, prejudice !

R. Wil. Then, indeed, you removed him to

the university; where, lest his morals should be
mended, and his understanding improved, you
fairly set him free from the restraint of the one,
and the drudgery of the other, by the privileged
distinction of a silk gown and a velvet cap.
Sir Wil. And all these evils, you think, a city
education would have prevented?

R. Weal. Doubtless. Proverbs, proverbs, brother William, convey wholesome instruction. Idleness is the root of all evil. Regular hours, constant employment, and good example, can't fail to form the mind.

you

Sir Wil. Why, truly, brother, had stuck to your old civic vices, hypocrisy, cozenage, and avarice, I don't know whether I might not have committed George to your care; but you cockneys now beat us suburbians at our own wea pons. What, old boy! times are changed since the date of thy indenture; when the sleek, cropeared 'prentice used to dangle after his mistress, with the great bible under his arm, to St. Bride's on a Sunday; bring home the text, repeat the divisions of the discourse, dine at twelve, and regale, upon a gaudy day, with buns and beer at Islington or Mile-end.

R. Weal. Wonderfully facetious!

R. Wil. Look'ye, broker, you know my mind, I will be absolute. If I meddle with the management of your son, it is at your own request; but if, directly or indirectly, you interfere with my banishment of that wilful, headstrong, disobedient hussy, all ties between us are broke; and I shall no more remember you as a brother, than I do her as a child.

Sir Wil. I have done. But to return. You
think there is probability in my plan?
R. Weal. I shall attend the issue.
Sir Wil. You will lend your aid, however?
R. Weal. We shall see how you go on.
Enter Servant.

Ser. A letter, sir.
Sir Wil. Oh, from Capias, my attorney? Who
brought it?

Ser. The person is without, sir.
Sir Wil. Bid him wait.

WORTHY SIR,

[Exit Servant, [Reads.

The bearer is the person I promised to procure. I thought it was proper for you to examine him viva voce. So if you administer a few Sir Wil. Our modern lads are of a different interrogatories, you will find, by cross-questionmetal. They have their gaming clubs in the garing him, whether he is a competent person to den, their little lodgings, the snug depositaries of their rusty swords and occasional bag-wigs; their horses for the turf; aye, and their commissions of bankruptcy too, before they are well out of their time.

R. Weal. Infamous aspersion!

Sir Wil. But the last meeting at Newmarket, Lord Lofty received at the hazard-table, the identical note from the individual tailor to whom he had paid it but the day before for a new set of liveries.

R. Weal. Invention!

Sir Wil. These are anecdotes you will never meet with in your weekly travels from Cateatonstreet to your boarded box in Clapham, brother. R. Weal. And yet that boarded box, as your prodigal spendthrift proceeds, will soon be the only seat of the family.

Sir Wil. May be not. Who knows what a reformation our project may produce? R. Weal. I do. None at all.

Sir Wil. Why so?

R. Weal. Because your means are ill-proportioned to their end. Were he my son, I would serve him

Sir Wil. As you have done your daughter. Discard him. But consider, I have but one.

R. Weal. That would weigh nothing with me: for, was Charlotte to set up a will of her own, and reject the man of my choice, she must expect to share the fate of her sister. I consider families as a smaller kind of kingdoms, and would have disobedience in the one as severely punished as rebellion in the other. Both cut off from their respective societies.

Sir Wil. Poor Lucy! But surely you begin to relent. May not I intercede?

prosecute the cause you wot of. I wish you a
speedy issue; and as there can be no default in
your judgment, am of opinion it should be car-
ried into immediate execution.
I am,

[ocr errors]

Worthy Sir, &c.

TIMOTHY CAPIAS.'

P. S. The party's name is Samuel Shift. He is an admirable mime, or mimic, and most delec table company; as we experience every Tuesday night at our club, the Magpye and Horseshoe, Fetter-lane.'

Very methodical indeed, Mr. Capias?-John.

[blocks in formation]

brief himself: if you adhere to his instructions, | But, lack-a-day, sir, that time I saw as seldom and carry your cause, he is generous, and will as his tradesmen. discharge your bill without taxation.

Sir Wil. Ha, ha? my friend Capias to a hair! -Well, sir, this is no bad specimen of your abilities. But see that the door is fast. Now, sir, you are to

Shift. A moment's pause, if you please. You must know, Sir William, I am a prodigious admirer of forms. Now, Mr. Capias tells me, that it is always the rule to administer a retaining fee before you enter upon the merits.

Sir Wil. Oh, sir. I beg your pardon! Shift. Not that I questioned your generosity; but forms, you know

Sir Wil. No apology, I beg. But as we are to have a closer connexion, it may not be amiss, by way of introduction, to understand one another a little. Pray, sir, where was you born?

Shift. At my father's.

Sir Wil. Hum!-and what was he?
Shift. A gentleman.

Sir Wil. What was you bred?
Shift. A gentleman.

Sir Wil. How do you live?
Shift. Like a gentleman.

Sir Wil. Could nothing induce you to unbosom yourself.

Shift. Look'ye, Sir William, there is a kind of something in your countenance, a certain openness and generosity, a je ne scai in your manner, that I will unlock :-You shall see my all.

Sir Wil. You will oblige me.

Shift. You must know, then, that fortune, which frequently delights to raise the noblest structures from the simplest foundations; who from a tailor made a pope, from a gin-shop an empress, and many a prime minister from nothing at all, has thought fit to raise me to my present height, from the humble employment of -Light your Honour-A link boy.

Sir Wil. A pleasant fellow! Who were your parents?

Shift. I was produced, sir, by a left-handed marriage; in the language of the news-papers, between an illustrious lamp-lighter and an itinerant cat and dog butcher. Cat's meat and dog's meat. I dare stay, you have heard my mother, sir. But as to this happy pair I owe little besides my being, I shall drop them where they dropped me-in the street.

Sir Wil. Proceed.

Shift. My first knowledge of the world I owe to a school, which has produced many a great man-the avenues of the play-house. There, sir, leaning on my extinguished link, I learned dexterity from pick-pockets, connivance from constables, politics and fashions from footmen, and the art of making and breaking a promise from their masters. Here, sirrah, light me across the kennel. I hope your honour will remember poor Jack. You ragged rascal, I have no halfpence-I'll pay you the next time I see you.

Sir Wil. Very well.

Shift. To these accomplishments from without the theatre, I must add one that I obtained within.

Sir Wil. How did you gain admittance there? Shift. My merit, sir, that, like my link, threw a radiance round me. A detachment from the head-quarters here took possession, in the summer, of a country corporation, where I did the honours of the barn, by sweeping the stage and clipping the candles. There my skill and address were so conspicuous, that it procured me the same office, the ensuing winter, at Drurylane, where I acquired intrepidity, the crown of all my virtues.

Sir Wil. How did you obtain that?

Shift. By my post. For, I think, sir, he that dares stand the shot of the gallery, in lighting, snuffing, and sweeping, the first night of a new play, may bid defiance to the pillory, with all its customary compliments.

Sir Wil. Some truth in that.

Shift. But an unlucky crab-apple, applied to my right eye by a patriot gingerbread-baker from the Borough, who would not suffer three dancers from Switzerland because he hated the French, forced me to a precipitate retreat.

Sir Wil. Poor devil!

[blocks in formation]

Shift. My misfortune, sir, moved the compassion of one of our performers, a whimsical man; he took me into his service. To him I owe, what, I believe, will make me useful to you. Sir Wil. Explain.

Shift. Why, sir, my master was remarkable happy in an art, which, however disesteemed at present, is, by Tully, reckoned amongst the perfections of an orator; mimickry.

Sir Wil. Why, you are deeply read, Mr. Shift!

Shift. A smattering--but as I was saying, sir, nothing came amiss to my master: Bipeds or quadrupeds; rationals or animals; from the clamour of the bar to the cackle of the barndoor; from the soporific twang of the tabernacle of Tottenham-court to the melodious bray of their long-eared brethren in Bunhill-fields; all were objects of his imitation and my attention. In a word, sir, for two whole years, under this professor, I studied and starved, impoverished my body, and painpered iny mind; till, thinking myself pretty near equal to my master, I made him one of his own bows, and set up for myself.

Sir Wil. You have been successful, I hope? Shift. Pretty well. I cannot complain. My art, sir, is a passe-par-tout. I seldom want employment. Let's see how stand my engagements, [Pulls out a pocket-book.] Hui-hum-Oh! Wednesday at Mrs. Gammut's near Hanover

square. There, there, I shall make a meal upon | the Mingotti: for her ladyship is in the opera interest; but however I shall revenge her cause upon her rival Mattei. Sunday evening at Lady Sostenuto's concert. Thursday I dine upon the actors, with ten Templars, at the Mitre, in Fleetstreet. Friday I am to give the amorous parley of two intriguing cats in a gutter, with the disturbing of a hen-roost, at Mr. Deputy Sugarsop's, near the Monument. So, sir, you see my hands are full. In short, Sir William, there is not a buck or a turtle devoured within the bills of mortality, but there I may, if I please, stick a napkin under my chin.

Sir Wil. I'm afraid, Mr. Shift, I must break in a little upon your engagements; but you shall be no loser by the bargain.

Shift. Command me.

Sir Wil. You can be secret as well as serviceable?

Shift. Mute as a mackarel.

turn, I have, in a feigned character, associated myself with a set of rascals, who will spread every bait that can flatter folly, inflame extravagance, allure inexperience, or catch credulity. And when, by their means, he thinks himself reduced to the last extremity, lost even to the most distant hope

Shift. What then?

Sir Wil. Then, will I step in, like his guardian angel, and snatch him from perdition. If, mortified by misery, he becomes conscious of his errors, I have saved my son; but if, on the other hand, gratitude can't bind, nor ruin reclaim him, I will cast him out, as an alien to my blood, and trust for the support of my name and family to a remoter branch,

Shift. Bravely resolved! But what part am I

to sustain in this drama?

Sir Wil. Why, George, you are to know, is already stript of what money he could command by two sharpers: but as I never trust them out

Sir Wil. Come hither, then. If you betray me of my sight, they can't deceive me.

to my son

Shift. Scalp me.

Sir Wil. Enough,-You must know, then, the hopes of our family are, Mr. Shift, centered in one boy.

Shift. And I warrant he is a hopeful one.

Sir Wil. No interruption, I beg. George has been abroad these four years; and, from his late behaviour, I have reason to believe, that, had a certain event happened, which I'm afraid he wished-my death

Shift. Yes; that's natural enough.

Sir Wil. Nay, pray, there would soon be an
end to an ancient and honourable family.
Shift. Very melancholy, indeed. But fami-
lies, like besoms, will wear to the stumps, and
finally fret out, as you say.

Sir Wil. Pr'ythee, peace for five minutes!
Shift. I am tongue-ty'd.

Sir Wil. Now I have projected a scheme to prevent this calamity.

Shift. Ay, I should be glad to hear that.
Sir Wil. I am going to tell it you.
Shift Proceed.

Sir Wil. George, as I have contrived it, shall experience all the miseries of real ruin, without running the least risk.

Shift. Ay, that will be a coup de maitre. Sir Wil. I have prevailed upon his uncle, wealthy citizen

Shift. I don't like a city plot.

Sir Wil. I tell thee it is my own.
Shift. I beg pardon.

Shift. Out of your sight!

Sir Wil. Why, I tell thee, I am one of the knot: an adept in their science; can slip, shuffle, cog, or cut with the best of them.

Shift. How do you escape your son's notice? Sir Wil. His firm persuasion of iny death, with the extravagance of my disguise. Why, I would engage to elude your penetration, when I am beaued out for the baron. But of that by and by. He has recourse, after his ill success, to the ten per cent. gentry, the usurers, for a farther supply. Shift. Natural enough.

Sir Wil. Pray, do you know, I forgot his name, a wrinkled old fellow, in a thread-bare coat? He sits every morning, from twelve till two, in the left corner of Lloyd's coffee-house; and every evening, from five till eight, under the clock, at the Temple Exchange.

Shift. What, little Transfer the broker? Sir Wil. The same. Do you know him? Shift. Know him! Aye, rot him! It was but last Easter Tuesday he had me turned out, at a feast in Leather-seller's-hall, for singing Room for cuckolds, like a parrot; and vowed it meant a reflection upon the whole body corporate.

Sir Wil. You have reason to remember him. Shift. Yes, yes, I recommended a minor to him myself, for the loan only of fifty pounds; a and, would you believe it, as I hope to be saved, we dined, supped, and wetted five-and-thirty guineas upon tick, in meetings at the Cross Keys, in order to settle the terms; and, after all, the scoundrel would not lend us a stiver.

Sir Wil. My brother, I say, some time since wrote him a circumstantial account of my death; upon which he is returned, in full expectation of succeeding to my estate.

Shift. Immediately.

Sir Wil. Could you personate him?

Shift. Him! Oh, you shall see me shift into his shamble in a minute, and with a withered face, a bit of a purple nose, a cautionary stammer, and a sleek silver head, I would undertake

Sir Wil. No, when at age. In about three to deceive even his banker. But to speak the months.

Shift. I understand you.

Sir Wil. Now, sir, guessing into what hands my heedless boy would naturally fall on his re

truth, I have a friend that can do this inimitably
well. Have not you something of more conse-
quence for me?

Sir Wil. I have. Could not you master
T

Shift, assume another shape? You have attend ed auctions?

Shift. Auctions! a constant puff. Deep in the mystery; a professed connoisseur, from a Niger, to a Nautilus; from the Apollo Belvidere to a butterfly.

Sir Wil. One of these insinuating oily orators I will get you to personate; for we must have the plate and jewels in our possession, or they will soon fall into other hands.

Shift. I will do it.

[blocks in formation]

Sir Geo, Any body here this morning, Dick? Dick. Nobody, your honour.

Loud. Repique the rascal! He promised to be here before me.

Dick. I beg your honour's pardon. Mrs. Cole

Sir Wil. Within I'll give you farther instruc- from the Piazza was here between seven and tions.

Shift. I'll follow you.

Sir Wil. [Going, returns.] You will want materials.

Shift. Oh, my dress I can be furnished with in five minutes. [Exit SIR WILLIAM.JA whimsical old blade this! I shall laugh if this scheme miscarries. I have a strange mind to lend it a lift: never had a greater. Pho, a damned unnatural connexion this of mine! What have I to do with fathers and guardians! a parcel of preaching, prudent, careful, curmudgeonly-dead to pleasures themselves, and the blasters of it in others. Mere dogs in a manger-No, no; I'll veer, tack about, open my budget to the boy, join in a counter-plot. But, hold, hold, hold, friend Stephen! sce, first, how the land lies.Who knows whether this Germanized genius has parts to comprehend, or spirit to reward, thy merit. There's danger in that; ay, marry is there. Egad, before I shift the helm, I'll first examine the coast; and, then, if there be but a bold shore and a good bottom-have a care, old Square Toes, you will meet with your match.

[Exit.

Enter SIR GEORGE, LOADER, and Servant. Sir Geo. Let the martin pannels for the vis-avis be carried to Long-acre, and the pye-balls sent to Hall's to be bitted. You will give me leave to be in your debt till the evening, Mr. Loader. I have just enough to discharge the baron; and we must, you know, be punctual with him, for the credit of the country.

Load. Fire him, a snub-nosed son of a bitch! Levant me, but he got enough last night to purchase a principality amongst his countrymen, the Highdutchians and Hussarians.

Sir Geo. You had your share, Mr. Loader?

Load. Who I? Lurch me at four, but I was marked to the top of your trick by the baron, my dear. What, I am no cinque and quatre man. Come, shall we have a dip in the history of the Four Kings this morning?

Sir Geo. Rather too early. Besides, it is the rule abroad, never to engage afresh till our old scores are discharged.

Load. Capot me, but those lads abroad are pretty fellows, let them say what they will. Here, sir, they will vowel you, from father to son, to the twentieth generation. They would as soon How-a-days pay. a tradesman's bill as a playdebt. All sense of honour is gone; not a stiver

eight.

Sir Geo. An early hour for a lady of her calling. Dick. Mercy on me! the poor gentlewoman is mortally altered since we used to lodge there, in our jaunts from Oxford; wrapt up in flannels; all over the rheumatiss.

Load. Ay, ay, old Moll is at her last stake. Dick. She bid me say, she just stopt in her way to the Tabernacle; after the exhortation, she says she'll call again.

Sir Geo. Exhortation! Oh, I recollect. Well, whilst they only make proselytes from that profession, they are heartily welcome to them. She does not mean to make me a convert?

Dick. I believe she has some such design upon me; for she offered me a book of hymns, a shilling, and a dram to go along with her.

Sir Geo. No bad scheme, Dick. Thou hast a fine, sober, psalm-singing countenance-and when thou hast been some time in their trammels, may'st make as able a teacher as the best

of them.

Dick. Laud, sir, I want learning!

Sir Geo. Oh, the spirit, the spirit, will supply all that, Dick; never fear.

Enter SIR WILLIAM, as a German baron. My dear baron, what news from the Haymar ket? What says the Florenza? Does she yield? Shall I be happy? Say yes, and command my fortune.

Sir Wil. I was never did see so fine a woman since I was leave Hamburgh; dere was all de colour, all red and white, dat was quite natural; point d'artifice. Then she was dance and sing- -I vow to Heaven, I was never see de like!

Sir Geo. But how did she receive my embas? What hopes?

sy Sir Wil. Why dere was, Monsieur le Chevalier, when I first enter, dree or four damned queer people; ah, ah, dought I by Gad, I guess your business! Dere was one fat big womans, dat I know long time: le valet de chambre was tell me that she came from a grand merchand; ha, ha, dought I, by your leave, stick to your shop; or if you must have de pretty girl, dere is de play-hous, dat do very well for you; but for de opera, pardonnez, by Gar, dat is meat for your master.

Sir Geo, Insolent mechanic! But she despised

him?

Sir Wil. Ah, ma foy, he is damned rich, has

« السابقةمتابعة »