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THE AUGUSTAN REPRINT SOCIETY
_JOHN GAY_, _ALEXANDER POPE_
_JOHN ARBUTHNOT_
THREE HOURS AFTER MARRIAGE
Edited, with an
Introduction, by
John Harrington Smith
Publication Number 91-92
William Andrews Clark Memorial Library
University of California
Los Angeles
1961
GENERAL EDITORS
Richard C. Boys, _University of Michigan_
Ralph Cohen, _University of California, Los Angeles_
Vinton A. Dearing, _University of California, Los Angeles_
Lawrence Clark Powell, _Clark Memorial Library_
ADVISORY EDITORS
John Butt, _University of Edinburgh_
James L. Clifford, _Columbia University_
Arthur Friedman, _University of Chicago_
Louis A. Landa, _Princeton University_
Samuel H. Monk, _University of Minnesota_
Everett T. Moore, _University of California, Los Angeles_
James Sutherland, _University College, London_
H. T. Swedenberg, Jr., _University of California, Los Angeles_
CORRESPONDING SECRETARY
Edna C. Davis, _Clark Memorial Library_
INTRODUCTION
It is a privilege to have a part in this reprint of what is certainly
one of the wittiest plays in the language, and one of the most
neglected.[A] Its tripartite authorship and raffish character have
encouraged editors to bypass it. The 1717 London edition and Dublin
reprint the same year bore no author's name on the title-page, but as
Gay signed the Advertisement one would think his editors would have felt
it somewhat incumbent on them to keep the play alive. However, so far as
I have been able to discover, only the 1795 collected edition of Gay
does its duty in this respect, and the editor of Gay's plays in the
Abbey Classics (2 vols., 1923) refused to admit it there, claiming that
though "this justly abused piece" had been ascribed to Gay, "the authors
of the greater part were Pope and Arbuthnot." _Three Hours_ has fared
somewhat better as a work of Pope, but interest in reprinting it under
his aegis seems to have died out early in the nineteenth century, where
the Twickenham Edition (VI, 180) locates two collections of writings
attached to Pope that include it--very far to the back of the volume in
each case. Since then, nothing, except for a few scraps in G. C. Faber's
_Poetical Works of Gay_, 1926.
[A] Since this introduction was written the _Johnsonian News Letter_
for June 1961 has announced that an edition of _Three Hours_ is
being prepared and may be expected to appear at an early date. It is
gratifying to learn that the play is receiving this attention and I
hope that this reprint may be of use to the editors in their task.
Not much can be done with the play in the space here available, but
neither is a complete treatment attempted. Our purpose is to dispel the
impression that _Three Hours_ is "dull"[1] (or so risque that in the
public interest it should be kept from general circulation) and to bring
it to the attention of more scholars. Certainly the present discussion
does not aim to pre-empt the possibilities for study; much will remain
to conquer still-for example, the knotty problem of which author wrote
precisely which parts of the play, if anyone wants to try an untangling
here--I prefer to think it a collaboration through and through, though
some tracks of individuals may be made out.
[1] Thus the editor of the Cambridge _Pope_ in his headnote to the
prologue; one wonders whether he had read the play or was merely
going on hearsay.
In the selection of the text to be reproduced for this series the first
edition (somewhat unexpectedly) had competition, not from the London
1757 _Supplement_ to Pope's works, but from the version of the play
given in the three Dublin printings of the collection of this title:
1757, 1758, 1761. The Dublin play is not merely a debased version of
1717: it is in five acts, 1717 in three, and it contains a sentence of
dialogue that 1717 does not: these differences, when taken in
conjunction with the prefatory remarks that Gay wrote for the 1717
printing, made it possible to determine (readers will find the argument
set forth further on, in a note to the Advertisement) that Dublin,
though printed so long after the event (and somewhat butchered by the
type-setter, we admit, but corrections of his worst misreadings and
typos will be found in the notes) dates from the year 1717 just as the
other does, was the script used in the production of the play, and
actually was the one that Gay thought Lintot would use in the edition he
published. The other consideration inclining us toward the Dublin
version of the play was that only in its printings can one get the Key
and Letter which, a number of years ago, George Sherburn had in a copy
of 1761 and used with such striking effect in his article on the
"Fortunes and Misfortunes" of the play;[2] he quoted liberally from both
documents but they seemed to us so interesting as to be worth putting
into the reader's hands entire.
[2] _MP_, XXIV (1926), 91-109.
Thus it boiled down to a choice between the two earlier Dublin
printings; 1761, it seemed, would not need to be checked. The kindness
of the Harvard College Library made it possible to compare its copy of
1757 with the Clark Library's copy of 1758, and in the light of the data
furnished by the Clark's Supervising Bibliographer, Mr. William E.
Conway, the Clark copy could be settled upon; the differences, though
slight--there was little resetting from 1757 to 1758, and none in the
play proper--were in its favor.
Any study of the play must begin with Professor Sherburn's article--it
is still indispensable, factually--but in its findings scholars have
perhaps let it influence them more than they should have. John Wilson
Bowyer was exceptional in challenging one of its identifications[3]
(successfully, I thought); perhaps the time has now come for
re-examining some of its other theses--for example, the doctrine (which
has become so firmly embedded in the scholarship on the play) that the
authors intended the role of Plotwell as a satire on Cibber. This was
suggested at the time in the _Key_ to the play by E. Parker, but any
charge brought by this person might well have been looked at askance;
for, whoever he was, he was avowedly a champion of "that elaborate
Gentleman," "the learned Dr. W--d---d" (Woodward, one of the real
people attacked in the play) and might be suspected of hoping to cause
an embroilment. It seems clear that prior to the play's premiere there
was no rift between the management at Drury Lane and the authors. Parker
says that they were constantly in attendance at rehearsals, and our
Letter (p. 216) avers that they were more than satisfied with what
Cibber was doing with their work. It rings true; the line attributed to
Gay, "We dug the ore, but he [Cibber] refined the gold" exaggerates
greatly no doubt, but seems beyond the powers of our female informant to
have contrived in support of a thesis. An atmosphere of happy optimism
prevailed; Lintot (Parker says) predicted that the play "would surprize
the whole Town," and it was reported that he had given 50 guineas for
the publishing rights (this item from John Durant Breval--signing
himself "Joseph Gay"--p. 30 of _The Confederates_, 1717).[4]
[3] In _The Celebrated Mrs. Centlivre_ (1952). Sherburn had
contended that Phoebe Clinket in the play was aimed at Mrs.
Centlivre rather than at Lady Winchilsea as the tradition had it.
Bowyer pins the satire to Lady Winchilsea once more and it seems
this must be generally correct; the reference in the epilogue to
"our well-bred poetess" seems intended for Lady Winchilsea rather
than for Mrs. Centlivre.
[4] The report was not far wrong--the amount that Lintot paid Gay,
on January 8, was L43, 2s, 6d (Nichols, _Literary Anecdotes_, VIII
(1814), 296).
That in all this sweetness and light there should have been a plan to
make Cibber ridiculous, and he too stupid to realize this until he had
trod the stage as Plotwell and felt the impact of the lines directed at
him personally, is unbelievable on the face of it. How could the alleged
plotters have been sure that when Colley came to cast the play he would
not frustrate their deep-laid plan by assigning Plotwell to some other
actor, if only by mere chance?
The theory has fed on some misreadings of the play that must have an end
put to them if this ghost is to be laid. If the reader, then, will
pardon the obviousness of the following, it is true that Cibber wrote
plays, but the name Plotwell should not be taken in this sense, but
merely as suggesting the gallant skilled in the stratagems which, in the
older comedies, males of this class had been accustomed to use in their
cuckolding operations. Plotwell in the play has never set pen to paper
except for notes sent to wives, and he is not an "actor-manager" or the
like. He and Underplot are simply gentlemen who spend so much of their
time in intrigues in real life that they would have no time for
play-writing.[5] In the part of _Three Hours_ that has led scholars down
this false path--the scene in which the manuscript is judged by Sir
Tremendous and the players--it must be kept in mind that the actual
author of the work being dismembered is Phoebe Clinket, not Plotwell,
who, since he is merely fronting for her, is enabled to meet such
strictures as "Between you and I, this gentleman knows nothing of
poetry" with perfect sang-froid; it is Phoebe whose withers are
comically wrung. Thus there was nothing in the part to offend Cibber,
much less can resentment on his part be deduced from the intermission of
the play after the seventh night.[6]
[5] See the excellent comment on the pair in our Key, p. 212.
[6] To charge him, as one authority has done, with "an arbitrary
withdrawal of _Three Hours_ after a far from unsuccessful week ...
an invidious, if not unwarrantable, decision on his part" betrays an
imperfect understanding of how a theater had to be managed in the
early 18th century when the number of patrons upon which it could
rely was limited. A play would run as long as it continued to draw;
when the house began to fall off a new bill would have to be
announced. The intermitting of _Three Hours_ should be most
naturally read as suggesting that at least in the judgment of the
managers its initial vogue had passed. It would have been brought
back when they thought patrons were ready to see it again--say, in a
couple of months.
The squabble involving Pope, Gay, and Cibber must have begun with the
latter's allusion to our play in the revival of _The Rehearsal_ on
February 7, a couple of weeks after _Three Hours_ had closed. Cibber's
version of how it happened may be read in the Letter (pp. 217-218
below); our female correspondent sympathized with him and deleted a few
expressions indicative of animus on his part, but on the whole the quote
as she gives it is a reasonable facsimile of what he had said in the
_Letter to Pope_ (1742). His disclaimer of an intent to offend is
believable in the light of what we have just seen as to how Plotwell
should be read in the play; on the other side, Pope's anger at the
gag--though not any visit by him to Cibber, that is true--is attested
both by Breval and by "Timothy Drub" (_A Letter to Mr. John Gay_, 1717)
who agree that Pope was the one principally offended and that it was he
who sent Gay with instructions to trounce "that impudent Dog C----r"
(this line from Drub's pamphlet). Why may not Pope have been angry
enough to seek out Cibber himself on the impulse of the moment? It seems
feeble to doubt Cibber's testimony on the grounds that he had not told
the story prior to 1742; he had not previously told the tale of the
youthful Pope in a bagnio, either, yet the authorities think there might
be something to this--if to the one tale, why not to the other? As to
the account the lady gives of the scuffle between Gay and Cibber, it was
widely known at the time that there had been some sort of angry meeting
between them; her story is highly colored but nonetheless may be
substantially true.[7]
[7] She says that the fracas occurred on the fourth evening of _The
Rehearsal_, and at least this revival did have a fourth performance,
five in fact: Emmett L. Avery in _The London Stage_ (1960) gives the
dates as February 7, 8, 20, March 21, 28. There is a slight
difficulty in assigning Gay's visit to the fourth of these, i.e.,
March 21: this is that the dates on which the two pamphlets that
refer to it were advertised ("just before March 1" for Drub's, and
March 30 for Breval's--Sherburn, p. 91) seem to rule out a March 21
fracas in the one case and to fall uncomfortably close in the other.
But publication (of course) though announced, may have been delayed,
and it is perhaps worth noticing that in each pamphlet Gay's visit
is mentioned in an inorganic part of the work that could have been
added late: the Dedication in Drub's, and, in Breval's, an ironical
"congratulatory poem" printed after the epilogue, on the last two
pages of the book.
This quarrel, whether with both poets involved with Cibber or only one,
doubtless cost the play a revival or two that it would otherwise have
had; with such evidence of anger in the authors Cibber could well have
wished to have done with them and their work. The use of the crocodile
costume on April 2 in a dance at Drury Lane entitled _The Shipwreck_
suggests that so far as the management was concerned the play for which
it had been devised would not be acted again. Thereafter, _Three Hours_
had only two revivals (Handlist of Plays in Nicoll, _Early
Eighteenth-Century Drama_)--one in 1737 (two performances) the other in
1746 (three).
A pity! But in any case the play could not have had much of a life on
the stage, considering the climate into which the authors chose to
introduce it. The type of wit that had flourished in the former age did
still hold a place in the theatre in 1717, but only in such comedies as
had already won a place in the repertory.[8] The older plays could be
"corrected" (that is, the racier lines could be taken out) or the
tender-minded could tolerate them as classics or in a pinch stay at home
when a play known to be of this sort had been announced. A new play was
in a more vulnerable position; it had to conform to what the reformers
had for a couple of decades been telling audiences a play should be, or
squalls could be expected. Sir Richard Blackmore was continuing the
crusade against scapegrace wit--in the Preface to his _Essays_, 1717, he
is explicitly severe upon _Three Hours_ and its authors--and the battle
was going his way. Jeremy Collier had published nothing on the theatre
for nearly a decade but it is interesting to see his methods applied to
the play by Timothy Drub in his _Letter to Gay_ and Drub then clinching
his remarks with a quote of two pages from "a very elegant author" whom
he does not name but who--not too surprisingly--can be recognized as
Collier himself.[9] (Could "Drub" have been, in fact, Collier, thus
tempted by _Three Hours_ to return to the fray under this alias?)
[8] During the year prior to the premiere of _Three Hours_ the
following had been seen on the London stage twice each or more
(selection only: based on Avery, op. cit.): _The Comical Revenge_,
_Man of Mode_, _Country Wife_, _Plain-Dealer_, _London Cuckolds_,
_Old Bachelor_, _Relapse_. _City Politicks_, a play from which our
authors took some hints, was revived in the July after the closure
of _Three Hours_; it ran three performances (i.e., successfully).
But it should be recalled that the most recent of the eight plays
here mentioned--Vanbrugh's--had been in the repertory twenty years.
[9] The quote is from the _Short View_, pp. 7-8 in the 1698 edition,
from "Obscenity in any Company is a rustick and increditable Talent"
to "But here a Man can't be a Sinner without being a Clown."
In any event the authors must have known that they were offering to swim
against the tide but counted on their combined brilliance to win anyway.
What they wrote happens to conform to the current rules in one
respect--to paraphrase the epilogue to _Love's Last Shift_, no cuckold
is made within the limits of its three hours' time span--but this
compliance must have been accidental, for in every other respect the
play deliberately flouts the regulations as established by Collier and
his school. Obviously the authors were out to create a sensation: shock
the stodgy and respectable element, jam the play down the throats of the
audience, and win the admiration of the minority with whom libertine wit
was still in favor.
These aims, which even a friend and well-wisher has to view as a bit on
the juvenile side, were far from fully achieved. The description that
Breval gives of the behavior of the crowd on the first night (Sherburn
quotes it, if the reader can not readily get hold of _The Confederates_)
is suggestive, not of a house packed with enemies of the authors,
friends of Dr. Woodward and John Dennis out to damn the play, but of a
crowd that had come predisposed to approve--"Silent a while th'attentive
Many sate"--but found themselves simply unable to endure the dramatic
fare set before them. The murmur that began and then grew to a hiss must
have surprised and alarmed the authors: Breval's version of how they
reacted must have a grain or two of truth in it. In the account of the
second and third nights furnished by our Key one can see matters
improving, but it is clear that to quiet the audience took heroic
efforts by the cast and there was probably some deletion of offending
lines,[10] perhaps some resort to "packing" the house.[11] This last was
a measure not infrequently taken in those days--Dr. Johnson's story of
Steele's efforts in behalf of _Cato_ will be recalled--but this was not
what the authors had anticipated. In the upshot they had dared the
unpastured dragon of reform in his den and had got away with it--but
barely. They were all right financially--the run should have brought
them two "benefits"--and there was the fee from Lintot and an added
present of guineas from those three court ladies who wanted the world to
know that they were sophisticated enough to take the play in stride.
(Pope paid them with "A Court Ballad.") Still, the pride of the authors
must have received some damage; perhaps some sensitiveness on Pope's
part is understandable.
[10] Drub says that the actors left out "a considerable load of
Obscenity and Prophaness." Presumably the authors would have to
acquiesce in such bowdlerizing.
[11] Breval, p. 11, and his note.
But what the collaboration produced is truly remarkable; if there is
something of a show-off air about it the authors can be forgiven, in
view of what they had to exhibit. Though its fast pace (which flags only
toward the last) and its emphasis on intrigue may slant it toward
farce, _Three Hours_ has the vitality and verve that one finds only in
the very best English comic writing. Phoebe Clinket and Sir Tremendous
are, to me, endlessly enjoyable, and Dr. Fossile more than merely a
caricature of a now forgotten virtuoso or a lifeless counter in an
intrigue plot (though in both these respects he meets the requirements
of the part beautifully); even he has moments when the humanity shows
through--as in his plaintive line to his friends when the mummy and the
crocodile spring into movement and speech, "Gentlemen, wonder at nothing
within these walls; for ever since I was married, nothing has happened
to me in the common course of human life." Of the trio composed of Mrs.
Townley and her followers I like them all, for various reasons, but the
lady best. Once she shrieks (p. 186) but considering the circumstances
anyone would consider this justifiable; otherwise she moves through the
incredible crises of her role with a self-possession and an easy charm
and good humor that one can only admire: as if she knew it was all
nonsense but condescended to cooperate for the sake of the joke.
Among the minor characters one deserves especial mention. It was
probably heartless of the authors to make fun of an aging and
unfortunate (if rather eccentric) lady in "poor Lady Hyppokekoana" (as
her compassionate, but, perforce, ever neglectful physician calls her)
but at least the result was esthetically satisfactory, and I beg leave
to nominate her for listing with that class of comic characters who,
though kept behind the scenes throughout, still come through
unforgettably in the reports we have of them: Mrs. Grundy in _Speed the
Plough_; Mrs. Harris in _Martin Chuzzlewit_; Dashenka in _The Cherry
Orchard_.
John Harrington Smith
University of California
Los Angeles
NOTES
_Advertisement, printed exactly as it is acted._
In 1717 Gay continued, "for, tho' the Players in Compliance with the
Taste of the Town, broke it into five Parts in the Representation; yet,
as the Action pauses, and the Stage is left vacant but three times, so
it properly consists but of three Acts, like the _Spanish_ Comedies."
There are several puzzles here. In the first place for a three-act play
the stage should be left vacant twice rather than three times. But
setting this aside there is a contradiction which must have puzzled any
reader who has used the 1717 edition, namely that if the players broke
it into five parts and the play is printed exactly as it is acted, the
play that follows should be in five acts but actually is in three. The
London 1757 _Supplement to Pope_ merely reprints Advertisement and play
as they are in 1717 and it is not until the Dublin printings that the
play appears in the five acts in which Gay says it was acted.
I suggest that Lintot in 1717 had two scripts of the play, one in three
acts, one in five, and that Gay wrote the Advertisement under the
impression that Lintot would discard the former.
I judge that when W. Whitestone undertook his Dublin Supplement of 1757
he took the Advertisement from the London book that had just been
published (see the title-page of the volume) but that when he re-issued
his book in 1758 he deleted the lines quoted above, perceiving that they
were not to the point so far as his text of the play was concerned.
Unless we imagine Whitestone revising the play into five acts himself we
must suppose that he had got his hands on an authentic acting MS of the
play, and it seems not one from a late revival. I suspect that
Whitestone in fact had got the very MS of the play that Gay thought
Lintot was going to print; one cannot guess from where, but presumably
from the same source that supplied the Key and Letter. Besides the act
divisions the most interesting variant is a speech of a dozen words
added to Dublin; see the note to p. 183. Cibber may have put this in, or
Gay, at Cibber's request. But in either case it seems that the text
that has it is the one that Gay authorized for printing.
By the same token, the cast as given in the present reprint (no actors'
names are given in Dublin 1757 but they must have been in the script and
in the reprint of 1758 Whitestone decided to put them in) is more
probably correct than that printed in 1717. The only differences between
the two are in five very minor roles, where, as rehearsals went on,
substitutions would be easy. All the principals are the same.
_Prologue._
Nothing to add to the Twickenham _Pope_, VI, 179-180.
_Dramatis Personae._
Five minor roles differ from 1717, as stated above. _Mrs. Bicknet._ A
misreading by the typesetter--he had never heard of Mrs. Bicknell.
_Play._
140 _Almost three and twenty._ Mrs. Oldfield was only 34 in 1717 but
no doubt popular enough to draw a laugh by simpering at this line.
_The office of the church ... brute beasts._ The _Book of Common
Prayer_ (1709) says of matrimony that it is not to be taken in hand
"wantonly ... like brute beasts." The fashion of alluding to the
Prayer Book in a jocose context, if it did not begin in the reign of
Charles II, was at least in vogue than; a couple of instances in
Dryden's _Wild Gallant_ will be pointed out in the Clark _Dryden_,
VIII (scheduled to appear in 1962). Another touch of "profaneness"
that Collieresque critics objected to in _Three Hours_ was the
paraphrase of Holy Writ in Sir Tremendous's line about "ten
righteous criticks," p. 153; cf. Key, p. 215.
141 _pistachoe-porridge._ An aphrodisiac concoction? (I apologize
for my neglect of the pharmaceutical, medical, and alchemical
jargon--J.H.S.)
144 _spoils of quarries._ Cf. the anecdote of Dr. Woodward in the
Key, p. 211; Parker's Key has it also, but in a less complete form.
145 _Shock._ Mrs. Townley's lapdog--perhaps named after Belinda's in
_Rape of the Lock_. Of course it may have been a common name for
such dogs before Pope wrote the poem; see Twickenham _Pope_, II,
153.
147 _my pace and my honour._ 1717, "Peace."
148 _forgive thee, if thou hadst ... kill'd my lapdog._ Parker, with
a citation to _Rape of the Lock_, assigned this speech to Pope, and
indeed it smacks of several places in the poem, e.g., III, 157-8,
IV, 119-120.
150 _some ... that nauseate the smell of a rose._ Cf. _Essay on
Man_, I, 200.
152 _That injudicious Canaille._ In view of her bias Phoebe's
strictures on the players are of course to be taken in the directly
opposite sense.
155 Parker finds some double-entendres in the dialogue in which
Phoebe and Sir Tremendous compliment each other; if such there be,
the speakers are unaware of them.
156 _if stones were dissolved, as a late philosopher hath proved._
In summarizing his thesis in the preface to his Essay _Toward a
Natural History of the Earth_ (1695) Dr. Woodward does say that "the
whole Terrestrial Globe was taken all to pieces and dissolved at the
Deluge, the particles of Stone ..." According to the DNB, Arbuthnot
published a criticism of this book in 1697.
163 The "old woman" who brings the letter from Madam Wyburn (a name
beyond all praise!): Drub, p. 18, calls her "an Old Woman without a
Nose," and objects strenuously. One dislikes siding with Drub on
anything, but this was indeed an unsavory touch, perhaps one of the
embellishments suggested by Cibber while refining the ore of the
play into gold during the rehearsal period. Our authors should have
ruled against it but they were in no mood to pull punches at this
time, though, as stated above, they had to consent to some
bowdlerizing after the first night of the play.
168 _a rouge in disguise._ 1717, "Rogue."
171 _my Mercury._ 1717, "by Mercury."
173 _s.d. in a chair like a sick man._ Idea from Crowne, _City
Politicks_, first acted 1682.
178 _fitigue._ 1717, "Fatigue."
s.d. _powers some drops in._ 1717, "pours."
180 _have the any power._ 1717, "they."
182 Townley's concealing Plotwell under the petticoat owes to Mrs.
Behn's _The Younger Brother_ (acted 1696, not revived), Mirtilla's
hiding "Endimion" under the train of her gown in IV.ii.
_invisible i th is very._ Typo for "in this very"; 1717 has "on this
very." Gay (or Cibber) might have changed "on" to "in" when adding
the sentence at the end of Act IV; see next note.
183 _But prithee ... rarities._ This sentence is not in 1717, but
seems an improvement, as it hints at developments to come and raises
the expectations of the audience.
186 _desarts._ 1717, "Disserts."
_Macedonian queen._ Olympias: Underplot in his verses alludes,
mock-heroically, to the fabled begetting of Alexander the Great.
_mantygers._ This spelling may have come from the London 1757
_Supplement_. 1717, "Mantegers" (OED, mantegar, a kind of baboon).
191 _s.d. leap from their places._ Idea from Ravenscroft's _The
Anatomist_: cf. n. to 215.
199 _Come we may_ (5th line on page). 1717, "Come we now"--perhaps
"may" is a misreading.
_Epilogue._
_sound in living._ Perhaps another misreading: 1717, "and" for "in."
_viol._ 1717, "vial." Perhaps another misreading.
_Key._
212 _knights of the shires, who represent them all._ Paraphrase of a
line in Dryden's epilogue to _The Man of Mode_: a mark of literacy
in the anonymous writer of our Key.
_Heautontimerumenos._ Self-tormentor--title of a play by Terence.
213 _another eminent physician's wife ... shall be nameless._
Contemporary gossip said that the wife of Dr. Richard Mead was
meant: Parker, less considerate than the gentlemanly author of our
Key, uses her name, and in Breval (p. 15) Mrs. Oldfield is made to
wish that she had not "mimick'd Mrs. M--d" in her role as Mrs.
Townley. But it seems likely that any mimicry would be in the mind
of the audience rather than in Mrs. Oldfield's performance, or for
that matter, the intention of the authors.
214 _Marriage not to be undertaken wantonly._ The Key is incorrect
in citing the Jonson play; see note to p. 140, above.
215 _letters ... Cocu imaginaire._ None of our Key-writer's
adducings of Moliere is really in point. The hint for the letters
came from Act V of anon., _The Apparition_, acted twice in 1713. The
same play has an intriguing valet named Plotwell; here our authors
found the name for one of their gallants--Underplot was a happy
invention of their own.
_Lubomirski ... in Lopez de Vega_. Parker (p. 9) is correct in
tracing this impersonation of Plotwell's to Ravenscroft's _The
Anatomist, or the Sham Doctor_; the same farce suggested the anxiety
of the disguised gallants at the proposals to dissect them in Act V.
Ravenscroft's play, first acted in 1696, was popular well into the
18th century and would be well known to the audience. No doubt our
authors expected their play to be found infinitely funnier than
Ravenscroft's in the comparable parts. It is.
_Theatre Italien._ Parker (p. 14) says more explicitly that
the mummy-crocodile scene is "all stole from a farce" in this
collection. Gherardi, vol. VI, does have a farce of the title cited
but the only trace of it in _Three Hours_ occurs in the brief joke
on Antony and Cleopatra that Townley and Plotwell share on p. 185.
A
SUPPLEMENT
TO THE
WORKS
OF
ALEXANDER POPE, Esq;
CONTAINING,
Such POEMS, LETTERS, _&c._
As are omitted in the Edition published
by the Reverend Doctor _Warburton_:
With the COMEDY of the
THREE HOURS after MARRIAGE;
And a KEY to the LETTERS:
To which is added, (not in the _London_ Edition)
A KEY to the THREE HOURS after
MARRIAGE,
And a LETTER giving an Account of the
Origin of the Quarrel between CIBBER,
POPE, and GAY.
_DUBLIN:_
Printed for W. WHITESTONE, opposite _Dick's
Coffee-House_, in _Skinner-Row_.
M.DCC.LVIII.
_Three Hours after_
MARRIAGE:
A
COMEDY.
_Rumpatur, quisquis rumpitur invidia._ MART.
ADVERTISEMENT.
It may be necessary to acquaint the reader, that this play is printed
exactly as it is acted.
I must farther own the assistance I have receiv'd in this piece from two
of my friends; who, tho' they will not allow me the honour of having
their names join'd with mine, cannot deprive me of the pleasure of
making this acknowledgment.
JOHN GAY.
PROLOGUE
Spoke by MR. WILKS.
_Authors are judg'd by strange capricious rules,
The great ones are thought mad, the small ones fools.
Yet sure the best are most severely fated,
For fools are only laugh'd at, wits are hated,
Blockheads with reason, men of sense abhor;
But fool 'gainst fool is barb'rous civil war.
Why on all authors then should critics fall?
Since some have writ, and shewn no wit at all.
Condemn a play of theirs, and they evade it,
Cry, damn not us, but damn the French that made it;
By running goods, these graceless owlers gain,
Theirs are the rules of France, the plots of Spain:
But wit, like wine, from happier climates brought,
Dash'd by these rogues, turns English common draught:
They pall Moliere's and Lopez sprightly strain,
And teach dull Harlequins to grin in vain.
How shall our author hope a gentle fate,
Who dares most impudently----not translate.
It had been civil in these ticklish times,
To fetch his fools and knaves from foreign climes;_
Spaniards and French abuse to the worlds' end
But spare old England, lest you hurt a friend.
If any fool is by your satire bit,
Let him hiss loud, to show you all--he's hit.
Poets make characters as salesmen cloaths,
We take no measure of your fops and beaus.
But here all sizes and all shapes ye meet,
And fit yourselves--like chaps in Monmouth-street._
_Gallants look here, this[B] fool's cap has an air--
Goodly and smart,--with ears of Issachar.
Let no one fool engross it, or confine:
A common blessing! now 'tis your's, now mine.
But poets in all ages, had the Care
To keep this cap, for such as will, to wear;
Our author has it now, for ev'ry wit
Of course resign'd it to the next that writ:
And thus upon the stage 'tis fairly[C] thrown,
Let him that takes it, wear it for his own._
[B] Shews a cap with ears.
[C] Flings down the cap and
_Exit._
Dramatis Personae.
MEN.
FOSSILE, } Mr. _Johnson_.
POSSUM, } Doctors. Mr. _Corey_.
NAUTILUS, } Mr. _Cross_.
PTISAN, Apothecary. Mr. _Wright_.
PLOTWELL, Mr. _Cibber_.
UNDERPLOT, Mr. _Penkethman_.
Sir TREMENDOUS, Mr. _Bowman_.
First PLAYER, Mr. _Diggs_.
Second PLAYER, Mr. _Watson_.
SAILOR. Mr. _Bickerstaff_.
Footmen, Servants, _&c._
WOMEN.
Mrs. TOWNLEY, Mrs. _Oldfield_.
Mrs. PHOEBE CLINKET, Mrs. _Bicknet_.
SARSNET, Mrs. _Garnet_.
PRUE. Miss _Willis_.
_Three Hours after_
MARRIAGE:
A
COMEDY.
ACT I.
Enter FOSSILE, leading TOWNLEY.
_Fos._ Welcome, my bride, into the habitation of thy husband. The
scruples of the parson----
_Town._ And the fatigue of the ceremony----
_Foss._ Are at last well over.
_Town._ These blank licences are wonderful commodious.----The clergy
have a noble command, in being rangers of the park of matrimony; produce
but a warrant, and they deliver a lady into your possession: but I have
no quarrel with them, since they have put me into so good hands.
_Foss._ I now proclaim a solemn suspension of arms between medicine and
diseases. Let distempers suspend their malignant influence, and powders,
pills, and potions their operations. Be this day sacred to my love. I
had rather hold this hand of thine, than a dutchess by the pulse.
_Town._ And I this, than a hand of matadores.
_Foss._ Who knows but your relations may dispute my title to your
person? come, my dear, the seal of the matrimonial bond is consummation.
_Town._ Alas! what will become of me!
_Foss._ Why are thy eyes fix'd on the ground? why so slow? and why this
trembling?
_Town._ Ah! heedless creature that I was, to quit all my relations, and
trust myself alone in the hands of a strange man.
_Foss._ Courage, thou best of my curiosities. Know that in husband, is
comprehended all relations; in me thou seest a fond father.
_Town._ Old enough o' my conscience.
[_Aside._
_Foss._ You may, you must trust yourself with me.
_Town._ Do with me as you please: Yet sure you cannot so soon forget the
office of the church. Marriage is not to be undertaken wantonly, like
brute beasts. If you will transgress, the sin be upon your own head.
_Foss._ Great indeed is thy virtue, and laudable is thy modesty. Thou
art a virgin, and I a philosopher; but learn, that no animal action,
_quatenus animal_, is unbecoming of either of us. But hold! where am I
going? Prithee, my dear, of what age art thou?
_Town._ Almost three and twenty.
_Foss._ And I almost at my grand climacterick. What occasion have I for
a double-night at these years? She may be an Alcmena, but alas! I am no
thunderer.
[_Aside_
_Town._ You seem somewhat disturb'd; I hope you are well, Mr. Fossile.
_Foss._ What business have I in the bed-chamber, when the symptoms of
age are upon me? Yet hold, this is the famous corroborative of Crollius;
in this vial are included sons and daughters. Oh, for a draught of the
_aqua magnanimitatis_ for a vehicle! fifty drops of _liquid laudanum_
for her dose would but just put us upon a _par_. _Laudanum_ would settle
the present ataxy of her animal spirits, and prevent her being too
watchful.
[_aside_
Enter a Servant.
_Serv._ Sir, your pistachoe-porridge is ready.
[_Exit._
_Foss._ Now I think of it, my dear; Venus, which is in the first degree
of Capricorn, does not culminate till ten; an hour if astrology is not
fallible, successful in generation.
_Town._ I am all obedience, Sir.
_Foss._ How shall I reward thee for so much Goodness? let our wedding as
yet be a secret in the family. In the mean time I'll introduce my niece
Phoebe Clinket to your acquaintance: but alas, the poor girl has a
procidence of the pineal gland, which has occasioned a rupture in her
understanding. I took her into my house to regulate my oeconomy; but
instead of puddings, she makes pastorals; or when she should be raising
paste, is raising some ghost in a new tragedy. In short, my house is
haunted by all the underling players, broken booksellers, half-voic'd
singing-masters, and disabled dancing-masters in town. In a former will
I had left her my estate; but I now resolve that heirs of my own
begetting shall inherit. Yonder she comes in her usual occupation. Let
us mark her a while.
_Enter Clinket and her maid bearing a writing-desk on her back.
Clinket writing, her head dress stain'd with ink, and pens
stuck in her hair._
_Maid._ I had as good carry a raree-show about the streets. Oh! how my
back akes!
_Clink._ What are the labours of the back to those of the brain? thou
scandal to the muses. I have now lost a thought worth a folio, by thy
impertinance.
_Maid._ Have not I got a crick in my back already, that will make me
good for nothing, with lifting your great books?
_Clink._ Folio's, call them, and not great books, thou monster of
impropriety: But have patience, and I will remember the three
gallery-tickets I promis'd thee at my new tragedy.
_Maid._ I shall never get my head-cloaths clear-starch'd at this rate.
_Clink._ Thou destroyer of learning, thou worse than a book-worm; thou
hast put me beyond all patience. Remember how my lyrick ode bound about
a tallow-candle; thy wrapping up snuff in an epigram; nay, the unworthy
usage of my hymn to Apollo, filthy creature! read me the last lines I
writ upon the deluge, and take care to pronounce them as I taught you.
_Maid._
Swell'd with a dropsy, sickly nature lies,
And melting in a diabetes, dies.
[_Reads with an affected tone._
_Clink._ Still without cadence!
_Maid._ Swell'd with a dropsy----
_Clink._ Hold. I conceive----
The roaring seas o'er the tall woods have broke,
And whales now perch upon the sturdy oak.
Roaring? stay. Rumbling, roaring, rustling, no; raging seas.
[_Writing._
The raging seas o'er the tall woods have broke,
Now perch, thou whale, upon the sturdy oak.
Sturdy oak? no; steady, strong, strapping, stiff. Stiff? no, stiff is
too short.
FOSSILE and TOWNLEY come forward.
What feast for fish! Oh too luxurious treat!
When hungry dolphins feed on butchers meat.
_Foss._ Niece, why niece, niece? oh, Melpomene, thou goddess of tragedy,
suspend thy influence for a moment, and suffer my niece to give me a
rational answer. This lady is a friend of mine; her present
circumstances oblige her to take sanctuary in my house; treat her with
the utmost civility. Let the tea-table be made ready.
_Clink._ Madam, excuse this absence of mind; my animal spirits had
deserted the avenues of my senses, and retired to the recesses of the
brain, to contemplate a beautiful idea. I could not force the vagrant
creatures back again into their posts, to move those parts of the body
that express civility.
_Town._ A rare affected creature this! if I mistake not, flattery will
make her an useful tool for my purpose.
[_Aside._
[_Exeunt_ Townley, Clinket, _and_ Maid.
_Foss._ Her jewels, her strong box, and all her things left behind! if
her uncle should discover her marriage, he may lay an embargo upon her
goods.----I'll send for them.
Enter a boy with a letter.
_Boy._ This is the ho-ho-house.
_Foss._ Child, whom dost thou want?
_Boy._ Mistress Townley's ma-ma-maid.
_Foss._ What is your business?
_Boy._ A l-l-letter.
_Foss._ Who sent this letter?
_Boy._ O-o-one.
_Foss._ Give it me, child. An honest boy. Give it me, and I'll deliver
it myself. A very honest boy.
_Boy._ So.
[_Exit boy._
_Foss._ There are now no more secrets between us. Man and wife are one.
'Madam, either I mistake the encouragement I have had, or I am to
be happy to-night. I hope the same person will compleat her good
offices: I stand to articles. The ring is a fine one; and I shall
have the pleasure of putting it on the first time.'
This from your impatient, R. P.
In the name of Beelzebub, what is this? encouragement! happy to-night!
same person! good offices! whom hast thou married, poor Fossile? couldst
thou not still divert thyself with the spoils of quarries and coal-pits,
thy serpents and thy salamanders, but thou must have a living monster
too! 'sdeath! what a jest shall I be to our club! is there no rope among
my curiosities? shall I turn her out of doors, and proclaim my infamy;
or lock her up and bear my misfortunes? lock her up! impossible. One may
shut up volatile spirits, pen up the air, confine bears, lyons and
tygers, nay, keep even your gold: but a wanton wife, who can keep?
Enter TOWNLEY.
_Town._ Mrs. Clinket's play is to be read this morning at the tea-table:
will you come and divert yourself, Sir?
_Foss._ No: I want to be alone.
_Town._ I hope my company is not troublesome already. I am as yet a
bride; not a wife. [_sighs._] What means this sudden change? [_Aside._]
Consider, Mr. Fossile, you want your natural rest: the bed would refresh
you. Let me sit by you.
_Foss._ My head akes, and the bed always makes it worse.
_Town._ Is it hereabouts?
[_rubbing his temples._
_Foss._ Too sure.
[_Turns from her._
_Town._ Why so fretful, Mr. Fossile?
_Foss._ No, I'll dissemble my passion, and pump her. [_Aside._] Excess
of joy, my dear, for my good fortune overcomes me. I am somewhat
vertiginous, I can hardly stand.
_Town._ I hope I was ordain'd for thy support.
_Foss._ My disorder now begins to dissipate: it was only a little
flatulency, occasion'd by something hard of digestion. But pray, my
dear, did your uncle shut you up so close from the conversation of
mankind?
_Town._ Sarsnet and Shock were my only company.
_Foss._ A very prudent young woman this Sarsnet; she was undoubtedly a
good and faithful friend in your solitude.
_Town._ When it was her interest; but I made no intimacies with my
chamber-maid.
_Foss._ But was there no lover offer'd his service to a lady in
distress.
_Town._ Tongue, be upon thy guard: these questions must be design'd to
trap me. [_Aside._] A woman of my condition can't well escape
importunity.
_Foss._ What was the name of that disagreeable fellow, who, you told me,
teaz'd you so?
_Town._ His name? I think he had a thousand names. In one letter he was
Myrtillo, in another Corydon, Alexis, and I don't know what.
Enter SARSNET in haste to her mistress: He runs and embraces her
with great earnestness.
_Foss._ Dear Mrs. Sarsnet, how am I oblig'd to thee for thy services:
thou hast made me happy beyond expression.----I shall find another
letter upon her.
[_Aside._
[_He gets his hand into Sarsnet's pocket, as searching for
a letter._
[_Whenever Sarsnet goes to whisper her mistress, he gets
between them._
Enter PTISAN.
_Ptis._ Mrs. Colloquintida complains still of a dejection of appetite;
she says that the genevre is too cold for her stomach.
_Foss._ Give her a quieting draught; but let us not interrupt one
another. Good Mr. Ptisan, we are upon business.
[_Fossile gets between Sarsnet and Townley._
_Ptis._ The colonel's spitting is quite suppress'd.
_Foss._ Give him a quieting draught. Come to morrow, Mr. Ptisan; I can
see no body till then.
_Ptis._ Lady Varnish finds no benefit of the waters; for the pimple on
the tip of her nose still continues.
_Foss._ Give her a quieting draught.
_Ptis._ Mrs. Prudentia's tympany grows bigger and bigger. What, no pearl
cordial! must I quiet them all?
_Foss._ Give them all quieting draughts, I say, or blister them all, as
you please. Your servant Mr. Ptisan.
_Ptis._ But then lady Giddy's vapours. She calls her chamber-maids
nymphs; for she fancies herself Diana, and her husband Acteon.
_Foss._ I can attend no patient till to morrow. Give her a quieting
draught, I say.
[_Whenever Fossile goes to conduct Ptisan to the door, Sarsnet and
Townley attempt to whisper; Fossile gets between them, and Ptisan
takes that opportunity of coming back._
_Ptis._ Then, sir, there is miss Chitty of the boarding-school has taken
in no natural sustenance for this week, but a halfpeny worth of
charcoal, and one of her mittens.
_Foss._ Sarsnet, do you wait on Mr Ptisan to the door. To morrow let my
patients know I'll visit round.
[_A knocking at the door._
_Ptis._ Oh, Sir; here is a servant of the countess of Hippokekoana. The
emetick has over-wrought and she is in convulsions.
_Foss._ This is unfortunate. Then I must go. Mr. Ptisan, my dear, has
some business with me in private. Retire into my closet a moment, and
divert yourself with the pictures. There lies your way, madam.
[_To Sarsnet._
[_Exit Townley at one door and Sarsnet at the other._
Mr. Ptisan, pray, do you run before, and tell them I am just coming.
[_Exit Ptisan._
All my distresses come on the neck of one another. Should this fellow
get to my bride before I have bedded her, in a collection of cuckolds,
what a rarity should I make! what shall I do? I'll lock her up. Lock up
my bride? my pace and my honour demand it, and it shall be so. [_Locks
the door._] Thomas, Thomas!
Enter footman.
I dream't last night I was robb'd. The town is over-run with rogues. Who
knows but the rascal that sent the letter may be now in the house?
[_Aside._] Look up the chimney, search all the dark closets, the coal
hole, the flower-pots, and forget not the empty butt in the cellar. Keep
a strict watch at the door, and let no body in till my return.
[_Exit footman. A noise at the closet-door._
(_within._) Who's there?----I'm lock'd in. Murder! fire!
_Foss._ Dear madam, I beg your pardon.
[_Unlocks the door._ Enter TOWNLEY.]
'Tis well you call'd. I am so apt to lock this door; an action meerly
mechanical, not spontaneous.
_Town._ Your conduct, Mr. Fossile, for this quarter of an hour has been
somewhat mysterious. It has suggested to me what I almost blush to name;
your locking me up, confirms this suspicion. Pray speak plainly, what
has caused this alteration?
[_Fossile shews her the letter._
Is this all?
[_Gives him the letter back._
_Foss._ (reads) Either I mistake the encouragement I have had. What
encouragement?
_Town._ From my uncle,----if I must be your interpreter.
_Foss._ Or I am to be happy to night.
_Town._ To be married.----If there can be happiness in that state.
_Foss._ I hope the same person.
_Town._ Parson. Only a word mis-pell'd.----Here's jealousy for you!
_Foss._ Will compleat her good offices. A she-parson, I find!
_Town._ He is a Welshman. And the Welsh always say her instead of his.
_Foss._ I stand to articles.
_Town._ Of jointure.
_Foss._ The ring is a fine one, and I shall have the pleasure of putting
it on my self.
_Town._ Who should put on the wedding-ring but the bridegroom.
_Foss._ I beseech thee, pardon thy dear husband. Love and jealousy are
often companions, and excess of both had quite obnubilated the eyes of
my understanding.
_Town._ Barbarous man! I could forgive thee, if thou hadst poison'd my
father, debauch'd my sister, kill'd my lapdog; but to murder my
reputation!
[_Weeps._
_Foss._ Nay, I beseech thee, forgive me.
[_Kneels._
_Town._ I do: but upon condition your jealous fit never returns. To a
jealous man a whisper is evidence, and a dream demonstration. A civil
letter makes him thoughtful, an innocent visit mad. I shall try you,
Mr. Fossile; for don't think I'll be deny'd company.
_Foss._ Nay, prithee, my dear; I own I have abused thee. But lest my
marriage, and this simple story should take air in the neighbourhood, to
morrow we will retire into the country together, till the secret is
blown over. I am call'd to a patient. In less than half an hour I'll be
with you again, my dear.
[_Exit Fossile._
_Town._ Plotwell's letter had like to have ruin'd me. 'Twas a neglect in
me, not to intrust him with the secret of my marriage. A jealous
bridegroom! every poison has its antidote; as credulity is the cause, so
it shall be the cure of his jealousy. To morrow I must be spirited away
into the country; I'll immediately let Plotwell know of my distress: and
this little time with opportunity, even on his wedding-day, shall finish
him a compleat husband. Intrigue assist me! and I'll act a revenge that
might have been worthy the most celebrated wife in Boccace.
Enter PLOTWELL and CLINKET.
Hah! Plotwell! which way got he hither? I must caution him to be upon
his guard.
_Plot._ Madam, I am agreeably surpriz'd to find you here.
_Town._ Me, Sir? you are certainly mistaken, for I don't remember I ever
saw you before.
_Plot._ Madam, I beg your pardon. How like a truth sounds a lye from the
tongue of a fine woman.
[_Aside._
_Clink._ This, Madam, is Mr. Plotwell; a Gentleman who is so infinitely
obliging, as to introduce my play on the theatre, by fathering the
unworthy issue of my muse, at the reading it this morning.
_Plot._ I should be proud, madam, to be a real father to any of your
productions.
_Clink._ Mighty just. Ha, ha, ha. You know, Mr. Plotwell, that both a
parrot and a player can utter human sounds, but we allow neither of them
to be a judge of wit. Yet some of those people have had the assurance to
deny almost all my performances the privilege of being acted. Ah! what a
_Gout de travers_ rules the understanding of the illiterate!
_Plot._ There are some, madam, that nauseate the smell of a rose.
[_Whenever Plotwell and Townley endeavour to talk, she interrupts
them._
_Clink._ If this piece be not rais'd to the sublime, let me henceforth
be stigmatiz'd as a reptile in the dust of mediocrity. I am persuaded,
Sir, your adopted child will do you no dishonour.
_Town._ Pray, madam, what is the subject?
_Clink._ Oh! beyond every thing. So adapted for tragical machines! so
proper to excite the passions! not in the least encumber'd with
episodes! the vraysemblance and the miraculous are linkt together with
such propriety.
_Town._ But the subject, madam?
_Clink._ The universal Deluge, I chose that of Deucalion and Pyrrha,
because neither our stage nor actors are hallow'd enough for sacred
story.
_Plot._ But, madam----
[_To Townley._
_Clink._ What just occasion for noble description! these players are
exceeding dilatory.
--In the mean time, Sir, shall I be oblig'd to you and this lady for the
rehearsal of a scene that I have been just touching up with some lively
strokes.
_Town._ I dare assure you, madam, it will be a pleasure to us both. I'll
take this occasion to inform you of my present circumstances.
[_To Plotwell._
_Clink._ Imagine Deucalion and Pyrrha in their boat. They pass by a
promontory, where stands prince Haemon a former lover of Pyrrah's, ready
to be swallowed up by the devouring flood. She presses her husband to
take him into the boat. Your part, Sir, is Haemon; the lady personates
Pyrrha; and I represent Deucalion. To you, Sir.
[_Gives Plotwell the manuscript._
_Plot._ What ho, there sculler!
[_reads._
_Town._ ----Haemon!
_Plot._ ----Yes, 'tis Haemon!
_Town._
Thou seest me now sail'd from my former lodgings,
Beneath a husband's ark; yet fain I would reward
Thy proffer'd love. But Haemon, ah, I fear
Tomorrow's eve will hide me in the country.
_Clink._ Not a syllable in the part! wrong, all wrong!
_Plot._
Through all the town, with diligent enquiries,
I sought my Pyrrha----
_Clink._ Beyond all patience! the part, Sir, lies before you; you are
never to perplex the drama with speeches extempore.
_Plot._ Madam, 'tis what the top players often do.
_Town._ Though love denies, companion bids me save thee.
[_Plotwell kisses her._
_Clink._ Fye, Mr. Plotwell; this is against all the decorum of the
stage; I will no more allow the libertinism of lip-embraces than the
barbarity of killing on the stage; your best tragedians, like the ladies
of quality in a visit, never turn beyond the back-part of the cheek to a
salute, as thus Mr. Plotwell.
[_Kisses Plotwell._
_Plot._ I don't find in Aristotle any precept against killing.
_Clink._ Yet I would not stand upon the brink of an indecorum.
_Plot._ True, madam, the finishing stroke of love and revenge should
never shock the eyes of an audience. But I look upon a kiss in a comedy
to be upon a par with a box on the ear in a tragedy, which is frequently
given and taken by your best authors.
_Clink._ Mighty just! for a lady can no more put up a kiss than a
gentleman a box on the ear. Take my muse, Sir, into your protection
[_Gives him her play_] the players I see are here. Your personating the
author will infallibly introduce my play on the stage, and spite of
their prejudice, make the theatre ring with applause, and teach even
that injudicious Canaille to know their own interest.
_Exit._