Enter BEVER. So, sir; this is delicate treatment, after all I have suffered! is Sir Tho. Mr. Bever, I hope you don't—that Bev. Well, sir Thomas Lofty, what think you now of your Robinson Crusoe? a pretty performance! Sir Tho. Think, Mr. Bever! I think the public are blockheads! a tasteless, stupid, ignorant tribe! and a man of genius deserves to be damned, who writes any thing for them. But courage, dear Dick! the principals will give you what the people refuse; the closet will do you that justice the stage has denied Print your play. Bev. My play! zounds, sir, 'tis your own! Sir Tho. Speak lower, dear Dick! be moderate, my good, dear lad! : Beo. Oh, Sir Thomas, you may be easy enough; you are safe and secure, removed far from that precipice that has dashed me to pieces. Sir Tho. Dear Dick, don't believe it will hurt you: the critics, the real judges, will discover in that piece such excellent talents Bev. No, sir Thomas, no! I shall neither flatter you nor myself; I have acquired a right to speak what I think. Your play, sir, is a wretched performance; and in this opinion, all mankind are united. Sir Tho. May be not. Bev. If your piece had been greatly received, I would have declared sir Thomas Lofty the author; if coldly, I would have owned it myself; but such disgraceful, such contemptible treatment! I own the burden is too heavy for me; so sir, you must bear it yourself, Sir Tho. Me, dear Dick! what to become ridiculous in the decline of my life; to destroy, in one hour, the fame that forty years has been building! that was the prop, the support of my age! Can you be cruel enough to desire it? Bev. Zounds, sir! and why must I be your crutch? would you have me become a voluntary victim? No, sir, this cause does not merit a martyrdom. Sir Tho. I own myself greatly obliged; but persevere, dear Dick, persevere! you have time to recover your fame; I beg it, with tears in my eyes. Another play will Bev. No, sir Thomas; I have done with the stage-the muses and I meet no more. Sir Tho. Nay, there are various roads open in life. Bev. Not one where your piece won't pursue me: If I go to the bar, the ghost of this cursed comedy will follow, and hunt me in Westminster-hall. Nay, when I die, it will stick to my memory, and I shall be handed down to posterity with the author of Love in a Hollow Tree. Sir Tho. Then marry: you are a pretty smart figure, and your poetical talents——— Bev. And what fair would admit of my suit, or family wish to receive me? make the case your own, Sir Thomas, would you? Sir Tho. With infinite pleasure! Bev. Then give me your niece; her hands shall seal up my lips. Sir Tho. What Juliet? Willingly. But, are you serious? Do you really admire the girl? Bev. Beyond what words can express. It was by her advice I consented to father your play. Sir Tho. What is Juliet apprized? Here Robin, John, run and call my niece hither this moment. That giddy baggage will blab all in an instant. Bev. You are mistaken; she is wiser than you are aware of. Enter JULIET. Sir Tho. Oh, Juliet, you know what has hap pened? Jul. I do, sir. Sir Tho. Have you revealed this unfortunate secret ? Jul. To no mortal, Sir Thomas. Sir Tho. Come give me your hand. Mr. Bever, child, for my sake, has renounced the stage, and the whole republic of letters; in return, I owe him your hand. Jul. My hand! what to a poet hooted, hissed, Jul. Then, sir your engagement to Mr. Rust. been more impertinently severe on my play than Enter RUST. Rust. Are you so, sir? what then, am I to be sacrificed, in order to preserve the secret; that you are a blockhead? but you are out in your politics; before night it shall be known in all the coffee-houses in town. Sir Tho. For Heaven's sake, Mr. Rust !— Rust. And tomorrow I will paragraph you in every newspaper; you shall no longer impose on the world: I will unmask you; the lion's skin shall hide you no longer. Sir Tho. Juliet! Mr. Bever! what can I do? Bev. Sir Thomas, let me manage this matter. Harkye, old gentleman, a word in your ear? you remember what you have in your pocket? Rust. Hey! how! what! Bev. The curiosity what has cost you so much pains. Rust. What, my Æneas! my precious relict of Troy! Bev. You must give up that, or the lady. Bev. Never fear; I am sure of my man. FOOTE.] from the flames, that can never be matchedTake her. Bev. And as you love your own secret, be careful of ours. Rust. I am dumb. Sir Tho. Now, Juliet. Jul. You join me, sir, to an unfortunate bard; but, to procure your peacc Sir Tho. You oblige me for ever. Now the secret dies with us four. My fault. I owe him much. Be it your care to show it; And bless the man, though I have damned the [Excunt omnes. poet. SCENE I.-MRS. MECHLIN's House. [Loud Knocking at the Door.] Enter JENNY. ACT I. Jen. Rap, rap, rap! up stairs and down, from morning to night!-if this same commissary stays much longer amongst us, my mistress must e'en hire a porter. Who's there? Sim. [Without.] Is Mrs. Mechlin at home? Jen. No. [Opens the Door.] Oh! what, it is you, Simon? Enter SIMON. Sim. At your service, sweet Mrs. Jane. Jen. Why, you knock with authority; and what are your commands, Master Simon? Sim. I come, madam, to receive those of your mistress. What, Jenny, has she any great affair on the anvil? Her summons is most exceedingly pressing; and you need not be told, child, that a man of my consequence does not trouble himself about trifles. Jen. Oh, sir, I know very well you principal actors don't perforin every night. Sim. Mighty well, ma'am! but, notwithstanding your ironical sneer, it is not every man that will do for your mistress; her agents must have genius and parts: I don't suppose, in the whole bills of mortality, there is so general and extensive a dealer as my friend Mrs. Mechlin. Jen. Why, to be sure, we have plenty of customers, and for various kinds of commodities; it would be pretty difficult, I fancy, to Sim. Commodities! Your humble servant, sweet Mrs. Jane; yes, yes, you have various kinds of commodities, indeed. Jen. Mr. Simon, I don't understand you; I suppose it is no secret in what sort of goods our dealing consists? Sin. No, no; they are pretty well known. Jen. And, to be sure, though now and then, to oblige a customer, my mistress does condescend to smuggle a little Sim. Keep it up, Mrs. Jane! Jen. Yet there are no people in the liberty of Westminster, that live in more credit than we do. Sim. Very well. Jen. Very well! then pray, sir, what would you insinuate? Look you, Mr. Simon, don't go to cast reflections upon us; don't think to blast the reputation of our Sim. Hark ye, Jenny, are you serious? Jen. Upon my word, Mr. Simon, you should not give your tongue such a licence; let me tell you, these airs do not become you at all. Sim. Hey-day! why, where the deuce have I got? Sure, I have mistaken the house; is not this Mrs. Mechlin's? Jen. That's pretty well known. Sim. The commodious, convenient Mrs. Mechlin, at the sign of the Star, in the parish of St. Paul's? Jen. Bravo! Sim. That engrosser and seducer of virgins? Sim. That canting, cozening, money-lending, match-making, pawnbroking[Loud knocking. Jen. Mighty well, sir! here comes my mistress; she shall thank you for the pretty picture you have been pleased to draw. Sim. Nay, but, dear Jenny Jen. She shall be told how lightly she stands in your favour. Sim. But, my sweet girl [Knock again. Jen. Let me go, Mr. Simon? don't you hear? Sim. And can you have the heart to ruin me at once? Jen. Hands off! Sim. A peace, a peace, my dear Mrs. Jane, and dictate the articles. Enter MRS. MECHLIN, followed by a HackneyCoachman, with several bundles, in a capuchin, a bonnet, and her cloaths pinned up. Mrs. Mech. So, hussy! what, must I stay all day in the streets? Who have we here? The devil's in the wenches, I think!-One of your fellows, I suppose Oh, is it you? How fares it, Simon? Jen. Madam, you should not have waited a minute; but Mr. Simon Sim. Hush, hush! you barbarous jade——— Jen. Knowing your knock, and eager to open the door, flew up stairs, fell over the landingplace, and quite barred up the way. Sim. Yes; and I am afraid I have put out my ancle. Thanks, Jenny; you shall be no loser, you slut. [Aside. Mrs. Mech. Poor Simon! Oh, Lord have mercy upon me, what a round have I taken ?— Is the wench petrified? Why don't you reach me a chair? don't you see I am tired to death? Jen. Indeed, madam, you'll kill yourself. Sim. Upon my word, Madam Mechlin, you should take a little care of yourself; indeed you labour too hard. Mrs. Mech. Ay, Simon, and for little or no thing only victuals and clothes: more cost than worship Why does not the wench take the things from the fellow?-Well, what's your fare? Coach. Mistress, 'tis honestly worth half-a Coach. Would it be honour in me to lay it out in any thing else? No, mistress, my conscience won't let me; because why, 'tis the will of the donor you know. Mrs. Mech. Did you ever hear such a blockhead! Coach. No, no, mistress; though I am a poor man, I won't forfeit my honour; my cattle, thof I love them, poor beastesses, are not more dearer to me than that. Mrs. Mech. Yes, you and your horses give pretty strong proofs of your honour; for you have no cloaths on your back, and they have no flesh. Well, Jenny, give him the sixpence There, there lay it out as you will. Coach. It will be to your health, mistress; it shall melt at the Meuse before I go home; I shall be careful to clear my conscience. Mrs. Mech. I don't doubt it. Coach. You need not; Mistress, your servant. [Exit Coach. Mrs Mech. Has there been any body here, Jenny ? party has interest enough to obtain it, whenever he will. And then the bridegroom may put the purchase-money too of that same presentation into his pocket. Jen. Truly, madam, I should think this would prove the best match for the lady. Mrs. Mech. Who doubts it?Here, Jenny, carry these things above stairs. Take care of the eigrette, leave the watch upon the table, and be sure you don't mislay the pearl necklace: the lady goes to Mrs. Corneley's to-night; and, if she has any luck, she will be sure to redeem it to-morrow. Sim. What a world of affairs! it is a wonder, madam, how you are able to remember them all. Mrs. Mech. Trifles, mere trifles, Master Simon-But I have a great affair in hand-such an affair, if well managed, will be the making of us all. Sim. If I, madam, can be of the least use Mrs. Mech. Of the highest! there's no doing without you-You know the great Enter JENNY. Jen. I have put the things where you ordered madam. Mrs. Mech. Very well, you may go. [Exit that is come to lodge in my house? Now, they JENNY.] I say, you know the great commissary say this Mr. Fungus is as rich as an Indian governor; heaven knows how he came by it; but that, you know, is no business of ours. Pretty pickings, I warrant abroad. [Loud Mrs. Mech. He was! Oh, oh! what, I sup-let it be who it will, you must not go till I speak knocking. Who the deuce can that be? But pose his stomach's come down. Does he like the encumbrance? will he marry the party? Jen. Why, that article seems to go a little against him. Jen. The gentleman, madam, about the Gloucestershire living. Mrs. Mech. Does it so? then let him retire to his Cumberland curacy; that's a fine keen air; it will soon give him an appetite. He'll stick to his honour too, till his cassock is wore to a rag. Jen. Why, indeed, madam, it seems pretty rusty already. Mrs. Mech. Devilish squeamish, I think; a good fat living, and a fine woman into the bargain! You told him a friend of the lady's will take the child off her hands? Jen. Yes, madam. Mrs. Mech. So that the affair will be a secret to all but himself. But he must quickly resolve; for, next week, his wife's month be up. to you. Enter JENNY. Jen. The widow Loveit, madam. from Devonshire Square? Show her in. [Exit Mrs. Mech. What, the old liquorish dowager, JENNY.] You'll wait in the kitchen, Simon; I shall soon dispatch her affair. [Exit SIMON. Enter MRS. LOVEIT. Mrs. Love. So, so, good morning to you, good Mrs. Mechlin! John, let the coach wait at the corner. Mrs. Mech. You had better sit here, madam. Mrs. Love. Any where. Well, my dear woman, I hope, you have not forgot your old friend will-Ugh, ugh, ugh.-[Coughs.] Consider I have no time to lose, and you are always so full of employment. Jen. He promised to call about four. Mrs. Mech. But don't let him think we are at a loss for a husband; there is, to my knowledge, a merchant's clerk in the city, a comely young man, and comes of good friends, that will take her with but a small place in the customhouse. Mrs. Mech. Forgot you! you shall judge, Mrs. Loveit. I have, madam, provided a whole cargo of husbands for you, of all nations, complexions, ages, tempers, and sizes: so, you see, you have nothing to do but choose. Mrs. Love. To choose, Mrs. Mechlin! Lord help me! what choice can I have? I look upon Mrs. Mech. Ay, and tell him that the party's wedlock to be a kind of a lottery, and I have Jen. He shall know it. |