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THE AUGUSTAN REPRINT SOCIETY
THE TOY-SHOP
(1735)
THE KING AND THE MILLER OF MANSFIELD
(1737)
_ROBERT DODSLEY_
_Introduction by_
HARRY M. SOLOMON
Publication Number 218-219
WILLIAM ANDREWS CLARK MEMORIAL LIBRARY
University of California, Los Angeles
1983
GENERAL EDITOR
DAVID STUART RODES, _University of California, Los Angeles_
EDITORS
CHARLES L. BATTEN, _University of California, Los Angeles_
GEORGE ROBERT GUFFEY, _University of California, Los Angeles_
MAXIMILLIAN E. NOVAK, _University of California, Los Angeles_
NANCY M. SHEA, _William Andrews Clark Memorial Library_
THOMAS WRIGHT, _William Andrews Clark Memorial Library_
ADVISORY EDITORS
RALPH COHEN, _University of Virginia_
WILLIAM E. CONWAY, _William Andrews Clark Memorial Library_
VINTON A. DEARING, _University of California, Los Angeles_
PHILLIP HARTH, _University of Wisconsin, Madison_
LOUIS A. LANDA, _Princeton University_
EARL MINER, _Princeton University_
JAMES SUTHERLAND, _University College, London_
NORMAN J. W. THROWER, _William Andrews Clark Memorial Library_
ROBERT VOSPER, _William Andrews Clark Memorial Library_
JOHN M. WALLACE, _University of Chicago_
PUBLICATIONS MANAGER
NANCY M. SHEA, _William Andrews Clark Memorial Library_
CORRESPONDING SECRETARY
BEVERLY J. ONLEY, _William Andrews Clark Memorial Library_
EDITORIAL ASSISTANT
FRANCES MIRIAM REED, _University of California, Los Angeles_
INTRODUCTION
The career of ROBERT DODSLEY (1703-1764), or "Doddy" as Samuel Johnson
affectionately called him, resembles nothing so much as the rise of
Francis Goodchild in Hogarth's _Industry and Idleness_ (1747) series.
Like Goodchild, Dodsley began as a humble apprentice and, through
energy, ingenuity, and laudable ambition, grew prosperous and gained
the esteem of all London. Today Dodsley is remembered as the most
important publisher of his period, a man who numbered among his authors
Pope, Young, Akenside, Gray, Johnson, Burke, Shenstone, and Sterne.
His long-labored _Collection of Poems_ (1748) rescued many of
his contemporaries' works from pamphlet obscurity and even now
provides both the best and the most representative introduction to
mid-eighteenth-century English poetry. His twelve-volume _A Select
Collection of Old Plays_ (1744) made the lesser Elizabethan dramatists,
long out of print, available again.
It is one of the minor ironies of literary history that the man who did
so much to insure the survival of the poems and plays of others has had
his own almost entirely forgotten. For Dodsley was not always a
bookseller. When he escaped his country apprenticeship and fled to
London to work as a footman, Dodsley had his heart set on literary
distinction; and it was first as poet and later as playwright that he
came to the attention of the Town. Although a few of his poems are as
ingratiating as Dodsley himself is reported to have been, most are now
aesthetically irretrievable. His dramas, in contrast, remain
interesting. Two of the best--_The Toy-Shop_ (1735) and _The King and
the Miller of Mansfield_ (1737)--were much more popular than his
earlier poems and for a time made him seem the equal of fellow
dramatist Henry Fielding. So great was the vogue of these two works
that Dodsley has been described as the principal developer of the
sentimental or moralizing afterpiece.[1] Both works are short
afterpieces intended to complement or contrast with the full-length
play on the day's bill and both moralize conspicuously; the two plays
could, however, hardly be more different in tone and technique.
_The Toy-Shop_ grew out of Dodsley's admiration of and consequent
desire to emulate the witty raillery of Augustan satire. When he sent
Pope his newly minted collected poems, _A Muse in Livery_ (1732),
Dodsley also included an orphan muse in the packet. In February of 1733
Pope politely responded that he liked the play and would encourage John
Rich to produce it, but that he doubted whether it had sufficient
action to engage an audience. Dodsley apparently did all he could to
strengthen his acquaintance with Pope, including publishing a laudatory
_Epistle to Mr. Pope, Occasion'd by His Essay on Man_ in 1734; and the
following February when Rich finally produced _The Toy-Shop_ at Covent
Garden, some thought that Pope was the author and Dodsley's alleged
authorship a diversion. Understandably, Dodsley was delighted to have
his play even momentarily mistaken for the work of Alexander Pope.
_The Toy-Shop_ was enormously popular. "This little Performance,
without any Theatrical Merit whatsoever," the _Prompter_ wrote on 18
February, "received the loudest Applauses that I have heard this long
while, only on Account of its General and well-Adapted Satire on the
Follies of Mankind."[2] Dodsley's afterpiece was performed thirty-four
times during the 1735 season. In print it was even more in demand. For
his benefit performance on 6 February, Dodsley advertised that "Books
of the Toy-Shop will be sold in the House."[3] There were at least six
legitimate editions of the piece within the year. It was pirated,
translated into French, and subsequently anthologized in almost every
collection of English farces.[4]
Every critic has concurred with Pope in finding the play plotless. The
short first scene establishes the premise: that the Master of the shop
is "a general Satyrist, yet not rude nor ill-natur'd," who moralizes
"upon every Trifle he sells, and will strike a Lesson of Instruction
out of a Snuff-box, a Thimble, or a Cockle-shell" (p. 10). Working
within a tradition that includes Lucian's sale of philosophers and,
just after _The Toy-Shop_, Fielding's auction in _The Historical
Register, For the Year 1736_ (1737), Dodsley acknowledged that his
premise was adopted directly from Thomas Randolph's _Conceited Pedlar_
(1630). His metaphor of the world as "a great Toy-shop, and all it's
[_sic_] Inhabitants run mad for Rattles" (p. 45) recalls the brilliant
penultimate verse paragraph of "Epistle II" of Pope's _Essay on Man_,
wherein mankind is shown as eternally addicted to "toys" of one kind or
another:
Pleas'd with this bauble still, as that before;
Till tir'd he sleeps, and Life's poor play is o'er!
(Lines 281-82)
With so many unmistakable resemblances to Pope in Dodsley's play, it is
not surprising that some spectators thought they detected the hand of
the author of _The Rape of the Lock_.
Following a hint from Pope that the strength of his afterpiece lay in
its mixture of morality and satire, Dodsley titled his work "A
Dramatick Satire" and begged indulgence in the epilogue for his "dull
grave Sermon" (p. 5). In fact, the merit of the work is the wit with
which the Master of the shop extemporizes over each sale. "Why, Sir,"
one character says, "methinks you are a new Kind of a Satirical Parson,
your Shop is your Scripture, and every piece of Goods a different Text,
from which you expose the Vices and Follies of Mankind in a very fine
allegorical Sermon" (p. 17). Jean Kern lists the satiric allegory as
one of the five major forms of dramatic satire during this period, but
judges _The Toy-Shop_ a failure in that genre because, instead of a
sustained allegory, Dodsley provides "a jumble of annotated sales of
abstractions with no controlling metaphor. The toys for sale are
interesting only for the value which the characters assign to them; the
result is a miscellany of characters assigning a miscellany of
values."[5] Thus, the problematic nature of a genre that attempts to
dramatize satire with no more than perfunctory recourse to plot or
characterization and Dodsley's failure to sustain consistently his
comparison between those objects that mankind values and mere toys both
contribute to the play's lack of "Theatrical Merit." It may also
suggest why _The Toy-Shop_ was even more popular in print than on the
stage. Nevertheless, even with all its dramatic inadequacies
acknowledged, the play retains a charming Tatler-esque ingenuity that
still amuses.
Income from _The Toy-Shop_ and the gift of a hundred pounds from Pope
allowed Dodsley to open, under the sign of Tully's Head, the bookshop
that was to become so important in the history of English literature.
Dodsley the bookseller did not cease writing; when _The King and the
Miller of Mansfield_ opened at Drury Lane on 29 January 1737, with
young Colley Cibber in the role of Henry II, it was evident that
Dodsley's stagecraft had improved. The play was a triumph, with
thirty-seven performances in 1737--the most popular play of the year
and one of the most popular plays of the century.
_The Toy-Shop_ had been Dodsley's attempt to adopt sophisticated city
ways; _The King and the Miller of Mansfield_ is a return to his "native
Sherwood." Instead of indulging in the sometimes labored, sometimes
second-hand wit and contemptuous satiric stance of the earlier play,
_The King and the Miller of Mansfield_ reflects the earnest
sentimentality and democratic impulse of the ballad, later printed in
Percy's _Reliques_ (1765), upon which the play is modeled. The plot is
simple. Henry II, lost and separated from his courtiers in Sherwood
Forest, is given shelter by honest John Cockle, a miller in nearby
Mansfield and one of His Majesty's Keepers of the Forest. Meanwhile, at
the miller's house, his son Dick and Dick's former sweetheart Peggy
plan how to gain access to the king so that he might redress the wrongs
done to their innocent love by the lust of the haughty Lord Lurewell.
By coincidence Lurewell is one of the courtiers lost in the forest. In
the final scene, with all the principals assembled, the king's identity
is made known and distributive justice dispensed.
Allardyce Nicoll argues that the success of _The King and the Miller of
Mansfield_ makes Dodsley the most important sentimentalist of the
thirties.[6] Certainly the play was frequently produced with revivals
of earlier sentimental works like Cibber's _Love's Last Shift_ (1696)
and Steele's _The Conscious Lovers_ (1723); and, in fact, it would be
difficult to find a list of definitive characteristics of sentimental
drama that Dodsley's play does not satisfy in every particular. The
bourgeois nobility and integrity of Dick and Peggy poignantly engage
the audience's pity and admiration, while the improbable resolution
affirms the inevitable triumph of goodness. There is even--what some
critics have required of sentimental drama--love of rural scenery and
use of native setting.[7]
Dodsley has cleverly integrated scene and theme in _The King and the
Miller of Mansfield_. The moral and social problem stressed in the play
is the existence and abuse of aristocratic privilege. Implicitly the
play assumes that rank should correlate with goodness. The king himself
is the best example of this. Alone at night in Sherwood Forest, Henry
asks himself, "Of what Advantage is it now to be a King? Night shews me
no Respect: I cannot see better, nor walk so well as another Man" (p.
11). Cut off from the trappings of monarchy he finds his common
humanity and, at the conclusion of the play, redresses the wrongs of
rank when he knights the instinctively noble miller and reproves the
vicious but hereditarily titled Lord Lurewell. His accidental
separation from the corruption of court and courtiers initiates Henry's
contact with John Cockle, representative of all the middle-class
virtues. Significantly, they are in the miller's environment: rural
England, symbol of uncorrupted beauty, correlative to the innocent
beauty of young Peggy before her acquaintance with Lords "of
Prerogative."[8]
As critics have noted, the whole sentimental movement in English drama
is opposed in tone to the cynical ethos of aristocratic privilege; but
Dodsley explicitly advocates a democratic sensibility that estimates
individual worth independent of the accident of birth. The "bourgeois
sententiae" of _The King and the Miller of Mansfield_ are certainly as
ideologically explicit as the arguments for the value of the mercantile
middle class in Lillo's _The London Merchant_ (1731).[9] Dodsley did,
after all, have working-class credentials; his years in "service"
furnished the materials for _Servitude: A Poem_ (1729) and _A Muse in
Livery_ (1732). The allegorical frontispiece to _A Muse in Livery_
shows a young man aspiring to knowledge, virtue, and happiness but
manacled by poverty to misery, folly, and ignorance, his foot chained
to a giant stone inscribed "Despair."
Despite the play's clear egalitarian sympathies, it seems excessive to
characterize Dodsley's work as "revolutionary" and to be reminded too
forcibly of the coming events in France. And yet, as has also been
suggested, things might now look different had there been a revolution
in England. Plays like Dodsley's discomforted the government. As
Fielding notes in the dedication of _The Historical Register, For the
Year 1736_, the _Gazetteer_ of 7 May 1737 had accused his play and
Dodsley's _The King and the Miller of Mansfield_ of aiming at the
overthrow of Walpole's ministry. "Bob Booty" reacted to this threat
from the stage by enacting legislation in June requiring that all new
plays and all alterations of old plays be approved by the Lord
Chamberlain; in contrast, the reaction of the monarchy to Dodsley's
work was much more ingenious. The third performance of _The King and
the Miller of Mansfield_, that from which the author was to receive the
proceeds, was held "By Command of their Royal Highness the Prince and
Princess of Wales." Both royal personages were present to honor the
apprentice from Mansfield. "The Boxes not being equal to the Demand for
Places, for the better Accommodation of the Ladies, Side Boxes [were]
made on the Stage."[10] Although the production of Dodsley's best play,
_Cleone_ (1758), was still twenty years in the future, it seems safe to
regard this night as the height of Dodsley's dramatic career.
_Auburn University_
NOTES TO THE INTRODUCTION
1. Leo Hughes, _A Century of English Farce_ (Princeton: Princeton
University Press, 1956), 126.
2. _The London Stage 1660-1800: Part 3: 1729-1747_, ed. Arthur H.
Scouten (Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 1961), 457.
3. Ibid., 458.
4. Ralph Straus, _Robert Dodsley: Poet, Publisher and Playwright_
(London: John Lane, 1910), 35.
5. Jean B. Kern, _Dramatic Satire in the Age of Walpole_, 1720-1750
(Ames: Iowa State University Press, 1976), 149.
6. Allardyce Nicoll, _A History of English Drama 1660-1900_, 6
vols. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1955-60), 2:204.
7. For a survey of attempts to characterize sentimental drama, see
Arthur Sherbo, _English Sentimental Drama_ (East Lansing: Michigan
State University Press, 1957).
8. John Loftis, _The Politics of Drama in Augustan England_ (Oxford:
Clarendon Press, 1963), 116-17.
9. Laura Brown, _English Dramatic Form, 1660-1760: An Essay in
Generic History_ (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1981), 148.
10. _London Stage: Part 3_, 635.
BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE
_The Toy-Shop_ (1735) is reproduced from the copy of the first edition
in the Henry E. Huntington Library (Shelf Mark: 152063). A typical
type-page (p. 23) measures 135 x 72 mm.
_The King and the Miller of Mansfield_ (1737) is reproduced from the
copy of the first edition in the William Andrews Clark Memorial Library
(Shelf Mark: *PR3409/D7K5). A typical type-page (p. 13) measures 145 x
73 mm.
THE TOY-SHOP.
A Dramatick Satire.
By ROBERT DODSLEY,
Author of _The Art of Charming_.
[Illustration: _First Edition._]
_LONDON:_
Printed for LAWTON GILLIVER, at _Homer's Head_, against
St. _Dunstan's_ Church, in _Fleet-street_. 1735.
EPILOGUE.
_Well, Heav'n be prais'd, this dull grave Sermon's done.
(For faith our Author might have call'd it one)
I wonder who the Devil he thought to please!
Is this a Time o' Day for Things like these?
Good Sense and honest Satire now offend;
We're grown too wise to learn, too proud to mend.
And so divinely wrapt in Songs and Tunes,
The next wise Age will all be----Fiddlers Sons.
And did he think plain Truth wou'd Favour find?
Ah! 'tis a Sign he little knows Mankind!
To please, he ought to have a Song or Dance,
The Tune from_ Italy, _the Caper_ France:
_These, these might charm----But hope to do't with Sense!
Alas, alas, how vain is the Pretence!
But, tho' we told him,----Faith, 'twill never do.--
Pho, never fear, he cry'd, tho' grave, 'tis new:
The Whim, perhaps, may please, if not the Wit.
And, tho' they don't approve, they may permit.
If neither this nor that will intercede,
Submissive bond, and thus for Pardon plead._
_"To gen'rous Few, to you our Author sues
His first Essay with Candour to excuse.
'T has Faults, he owns, but, if they are but small,
He hopes your kind Applause will hide them all."_
Dramatis Personae.
_MEN._
Master of the Shop, Mr. _Chapman_.
1 } Mr. _Bridgewater_.
2 } Gentleman, Mr. _Wignell_.
3 } Mr. _Hallam_.
4 } Mr. _Hale_.
Beau. Mr. _Neale_.
1 } Old Man, Mr. _James_.
2 } Mr. _Hippisley_.
_WOMEN._
1 } Mrs. _Bullock_.
2 } Lady, Miss _Norsa_.
3 } Mrs. _Mullart_.
4 } Miss _Bincks_.
THE TOY-SHOP.
SCENE _a Parlour._ _A Gentleman and two Ladies, drinking Tea._
_Gent._ And you have never been at this extraordinary Toy-shop, you
say, Madam?
_1 La._ No, Sir: I have heard of the Man, indeed; but most People say,
he's a very impertinent, silly Fellow.
_Gent._ That's because he sometimes tells them of their Faults.
_1 La._ And that's sufficient. I should think any Man impertinent that
should pretend to tell me of my Faults, if they did not concern him.
_Gent._ Yes, Madam. But People that know him take no Exceptions. And
really, tho' some may think him impertinent, in my Opinion, he's very
entertaining.
_2 La._ Pray, who is this Man you're talking of? I never heard of him.
_Gent._ He's one who has lately set up a Toy-shop, Madam, and is,
perhaps, the most extraordinary Person in his Way that ever was heard
of. He is a general Satyrist, yet not rude nor ill-natur'd. He has got
a Custom of moralizing upon every Trifle he sells, and will strike a
Lesson of Instruction out of a Snuff-box, a Thimble, or a Cockle-shell.
_1 La._ Isn't he cras'd?
_Gent._ Madam, he may be call'd a Humourist; but he does not want
Sense, I do assure you.
_2 La._ Methinks I should be glad to see him.
_Gent._ I dare say you will be very much diverted. And if you'll please
to give me Leave, I'll wait on you. I'm particularly acquainted with
him.
_2 La._ What say you, Madam, shall we go?
_1 La._ I can't help thinking he's a Coxcomb; however, to satisfy
Curiosity I don't care if I do.
_Gent._ I believe the Coach is at the Door.
_2 La._ I hope he won't affront us.
_Gent._ He won't designedly, I'm sure, Madam. [_Exeunt._
_Scene changes to the Toy-Shop, the Master standing behind the Counter
looking over his Books._
_Mast._ Methinks I have had a tolerable good Day of it to-day. A Gold
Watch, Five and Thirty Guineas----Let me see----What did that Watch
stand me in?----Where is it? O here----Lent [_Turning to another book
backwards and forwards._] to Lady _Basset_ Eighteen Guineas upon her
Gold Watch. Ay, she died and never redeem'd it.--A Set of old China,
Five Pounds.--Bought of an old Cloaths Man for Five Shillings.
Right.--A curious Shell for a Snuff-box, Two Guineas.--Bought of a poor
Fisher-boy for a Half-penny. Now, if I had offer'd that Shell for
Sixpence, no body would have bought it. Well, Thanks to the whimsical
Extravagance and Folly of Mankind, I believe, from these childish Toys
and gilded Baubles, I shall pick up a comfortable Maintenance. For,
really, as it is a trifling Age, so Nothing but Trifles are valued in
it. Men read none but trifling Authors, pursue none but trifling
Amusements, and contend for none but trifling Opinions. A trifling
Fellow is prefer'd, a trifling Woman admir'd. Nay, as if there were not
real Trifles enow, they now make Trifles of the most serious and
valuable Things. Their Time, their Health, their Money, their
Reputation, are trifled away. Honestly is become a Trifle, Conscience a
Trifle, Honour a mere Trifle, and Religion the greatest Trifle of all.
_Enter the Gentleman and the two Ladies._
_Mast._ Sir, your humble Servant, I'm very glad to see you.
_Gent._ Sir, I am yours. I have brought you some Customers here.
_Mast._ You are very good, Sir. What do you please to want, Ladies?
_1 La._ Please to want! People seldom please to want any thing, Sir.
_Mast._ O dear Madam, yes; I always imagine when People come into a
Toy-shop, it must be for something they please to want.
_2 La._ Here's a mighty pretty Looking Glass; Pray, Sir, what's the
Price of it?
_Mast._ This Looking Glass, Madam, is the finest in all _England_. In
this Glass a Coquet may see her Vanity, and a Prude her Hypocrisy. Some
fine Ladies may see more Beauty than Modesty, more Airs than Graces,
and more Wit than Good-nature.
_1 La._ [_Aside._] He begins already.
_Mast._ If a Beau was to buy this Glass, and look earnestly in it, he
might see his Folly almost as soon as his Finery. 'Tis true, some
People may not see their Generosity in it, nor others their Charity,
yet it is a very clear Glass. Some fine Gentlemen may not see their
Good-manners in it perhaps, nor some Parsons their Religion, yet it is
a very clear Glass. In short, tho' every one that passes for a Maid
should not happen to see a Maidenhead in it, yet it may be a very clear
Glass, you know, for all that.
_2 La._ Yes, Sir, but I did not ask you the Virtues of it, I ask'd you
the Price.
_Mast._ It was necessary to tell you the Virtues, Madam, in order to
prevent your scrupling the Price, which is five Guineas, and for so
extraordinary a Glass, in my Opinion, it is but a Trifle.
_2 La._ Lord, I'm afraid to look in it, methinks, lest it should show
me more of my Faults than I care to see.
_1 La._ Pray, Sir, what can be the Use of this very diminutive piece of
Goods here?
_Mast._ This Box, Madam? In the first Place, it is a very great
Curiosity, being the least Box that ever was seen in _England_.
_1 La._ Then a very little Curiosity had been more proper.
_Mast._ Right, Madam. Yet, would you think it, in this same little Box,
a Courtier may deposite his Sincerity, a Lawyer may screw up his
Honesty, and a Poet may----hoard his Money.
_Gent._ Ha, ha, ha, I will make a Present of it to Mr. _Stanza_ for the
very same Purpose.
_2 La._ Here's a fine Perspective. Now, I think, Madam, in the Country
these are a very pretty Amusement.
_Mast._ O, Madam, the most useful and diverting things imaginable
either in Town or Country. The Nature of this Glass, Madam, (pardon my
impertinence in pretending to tell you what to be sure you are as well
acquainted with as myself) is this. If you look thro' it at this end
every Object is magnified, brought near, and discern'd with the
greatest Plainness; but turn it the other way, do ye see, and they are
all lessen'd, cast at a great Distance, and rendered almost
imperceptible. Thro' this End it is that we look at our own Faults, but
when other People's are to be examined, we are ready enough to turn the
other. Thro' this End are view'd all the Benefits and Advantages we at
any time receive from others; but if ever we happen to confer any, they
are sure to be shown in their greatest Magnitude thro' the other. Thro'
this we enviously darken and contract the Virtue, the Merit, the Beauty
of all the World around us; but fondly Compliment our own with the most
agreeable and advantageous Light thro' the other.
_2 La._ Why, Sir, methinks you are a new Kind of a Satirical Parson,
your Shop is your Scripture, and every piece of Goods a different Text,
from which you expose the Vices and Follies of Mankind in a very fine
allegorical Sermon.
_Mast._ Right, Madam, right; I thank you for the Simile. I may be
call'd a Parson indeed, and am a very good one in my way. I take
delight in my Calling, and am never better pleased than to see a full
Congregation. Yet it happens to me as it does to most of my Brethren,
People sometimes vouchsafe to take home the Text perhaps, but mind the
Sermon no more than if they had not heard one.
_1 La._ Why, Sir, when a short Text has more in it than a long Sermon,
it's no wonder if they do.
_Enter a third Lady._
_3 Lady._ Pray, Sir, let me look at some of your little Dogs.
_2 La._ [_Aside._] Little Dogs! My Stars! How cheaply some People are
entertain'd! Well, it's a Sign human Conversation is grown very low and
insipid, whilst that of Dogs and Monkeys is preferr'd to it.
_Mast._ Here are very beautiful Dogs, Madam, these Dogs when they were
alive were some of them the greatest Dogs of their Age. I don't mean
the largest, but Dogs of the greatest Quality and Merit.
_1 La._ I love a _Dog of Merit_ dearly; has not he a _Dog of Honour_
too, I wonder? [_Aside._]
_Mast._ Here's a Dog now that never eat but upon Plate or China, nor
set his Foot but upon a Carpet or a Cushion. Here's one too, this Dog
belong'd to a Lady of as great Beauty and Fortune as any in _England_;
he was her most intimate Friend and particular Favourite; and upon that
Account has receiv'd more Compliments, more Respect, and more Addresses
than a First Minister of State. Here's another which was, doubtless, a
Dog of singular Worth and great Importance; since at his Death one of
the greatest Families in the Kingdom were all in Tears, receiv'd no
Visits for the space of a Week, but shut themselves up and mourn'd
their Loss with inconsolable Sorrow. This Dog while he liv'd, either
for Contempt of his Person, neglect of his Business, or saucy
impertinent Behaviours in their Attendance on him, had the Honour of
turning away upwards of thirty Servants. He died at last of a Cold
caught by following one of the Maids into a damp Room, for which she
lost her Place, her Wages, and her Character.
_3 Lady._ O the careless wicked Wretch! I would have had her try'd for
Murder at least. That, that is just my Case! The sad Relation revives
my Grief so strongly I cannot contain. _Lucy_, bring in the Box.[1] O I
have lost the dearest Friend in the World! See! see the charming
Creature, here, lies dead! Its precious Life is gone! Oh, my dear
_Chloe_! no more wilt thou lie hugg'd in my warm Bosom! no more will
that sweet Tongue lick o'er my Face, nor that dear Mouth eat dainty
Bits from mine. O, Death, what hast thou robb'd me of?
[1] _Here her Maid enters and delivers a Box, from which the
Lady pulls out a dead Dog, kissing it, and weeping._ Lucy
_too pretends great Sorrow, but turning aside bursts out a
Laughing, and cries, "She little thinks I poison'd it."_
_Gent._ [_Aside._] A proper Object to display your Folly.
_Mast._ Pray, Madam, moderate your Grief; you ought to thank Heaven
'tis not your Husband.
_3 La._ Oh, what is Husband, Father, Mother, Son, to my dear, precious
_Chloe_!----No, no, I cannot live without the Sight of his dear Image;
and if you cannot make me the exact Effigies of this poor dead
Creature, and cover it with his own dear Skin, so nicely that it cannot
be discern'd, I must never hope to see one happy Day in Life.
_Mast._ Well, Madam, be comforted, I will do it to your Satisfaction.
[_Taking the Box._
_3 Lady._ Let me have one look more. Poor Creature! O cruel Fate, that
Dogs are born to die. [Exit _weeping_.
_Gent._ What a Scene is here! Are not the real and unavoidable Evils of
Life sufficient, that People thus create themselves imaginary Woes?
_Mast._ These, Sir, are the Griefs of those that have no other. Did
they once truly feel the real Miseries of Life, ten thousand Dogs might
die without a Tear.
_Enter a second Gentleman._
_2 Gent._ I want an Ivory Pocket-book.
_Mast._ Do you please to have it with Directions, or without?
_2 Gent._ Directions! what, how to use it?
_Mast._ Yes, Sir.
_2 Gent._ I should think, every Man's own Business his best Direction.
_Mast._ It may so. Yet there are some general Rules, which it equally
behoves every Man to be acquainted with. As for Instance: Always to
make a Memorandum of the Benefits you receive from others. Always to
set down the Faults or Failings, which from Time to Time you discover
in yourself. And, if you remark any Thing that is ridiculous or faulty
in others, let it not be with an ill-natur'd Design to hurt or expose
them, at any Time, but with a _Nota bene_, that it is only for a
Caution to your self, not to be guilty of the like. With a great many
other Rules of such a Nature as makes one of my Pocket-books both a
useful Monitor and a very entertaining Companion.
_2 Gent._ And pray, what's the Price of one of them?
_Mast._ The Price is a Guinea, Sir.
_2 Gent._ That's very dear. But, as it's a Curiosity----[_Pays for it,
and_ Exit.]
_Enter a_ Beau.
_Beau._ Pray, Sir, let me see some of your handsomest Snuff-boxes.
_Mast._ Here's a plain Gold one, Sir, a very neat Box; here's a Gold
enamell'd; here's a Silver one neatly carv'd and gilt; here's a curious
Shell, Sir, set in Gold.
_Beau._ Dam your Shells; there's not one of them fit for a Gentleman to
put his Fingers into. I want one with some pretty Device on the Inside
of the Lid; something that may serve to joke upon, or help one to an
Occasion to be witty, that is, smutty, now and then.
_Mast._ And are witty and smutty then synonimous Terms?
_Beau._ O dear Sir, yes; a little decent Smutt is the very Life of all
Conversation. 'Tis the Wit of Drawing-Rooms, Assemblies, and
Tea-tables. 'Tis the smart Raillery of fine Gentlemen, and the innocent
Freedom of fine Ladies. 'Tis a _Double Entendre_, at which the Coquet
laughs, the Prude looks grave, the Modest blush, but all are pleas'd
with.
_Mast._ That it is the Wit and the Entertainment of all Conversations,
I believe, Sir, may, possibly, be a Mistake. 'Tis true, those who are
so rude as to use it in all Conversations, may possibly be so deprav'd
themselves, as to fancy every body else as agreeably entertain'd in
hearing it as they are in uttering it: But I dare say, any Man or
Woman, of real Virtue and Modesty, has as little Taste for such
Ribaldry as those Coxcombs have for what is good Sense or true
Politeness.
_Beau._ Good Sense, Sir! Damme, Sir, what do you mean? I would have you
think, I know good Sense as well as any Man. Good Sense is a true----a
right----a----a----a----Dam it, I wo'nt be so pedantick as to make
Definitions: But I can invent a cramp Oath, Sir; drink a smutty Health,
Sir; ridicule Priests, laugh at all Religion, and make such a grave
Prig as you look just like a Fool, Sir. Now, I take this to be good
Sense.
_Mast._ And I unmov'd can hear such senseless Ridicule, and look upon
its Author with an Eye of Pity and Contempt. And I take this to be good
Sense.
_Beau._ Pshaw, pshaw; damn'd Hypocrisy and Affectation; Nothing
else, nothing else. [_Exit._
_Mast._ There is Nothing so much my Aversion as a Coxcomb. They are a
Ridicule upon humane Nature, and make one almost asham'd to be of the
same Species. And, for that Reason, I can't forbear affronting them
whenever they fall in my Way. I hope the Ladies will excuse such
Behaviour in their Presence.
_2 La._ Indeed, Sir, I wish we had always somebody to treat them with
such Behaviour in our Presence. 'Twould be much more agreeable than
their Impertinence.
_Enter a_ Young Gentleman.
_3 Gent._ I want a plain Gold Ring, Sir, exactly this Size.
_Mast._ Then 'tis not for yourself, Sir.
_3 Gent._ No.
_Mast._ A Wedding Ring, I presume.
_3 Gent._ No, Sir, I thank you kindly, that's a Toy I never design to
play with. 'Tis the most dangerous Piece of Goods in your whole Shop.
People are perpetually doing themselves a Mischief with it. They hang
themselves fast together first, and afterwards are ready to hang
themselves separately, to get loose again.
_1 La._ This is but the fashionable Cant. I'll be hang'd if this
pretended Railer at Matrimony is not just upon the Point of making some
poor Woman miserable. [_Aside._]
_3 Gent._ Well----happy are we whilst we are Children; we can then lay
down one Toy and take up another, and please ourselves with Variety:
But growing more foolish as we grow older, there's no Toy will please
us then but a Wife; and that, indeed, as it is a Toy for Life, so it is
all Toys in one. She's a Rattle in a Man's Ears which he cannot throw
aside: A Drum that is perpetually beating him a Point of War: A Top
which he ought to whip for his Exercise, for like that she is best when
lash'd to sleep: A Hobby-Horse for the Booby to ride on when the Maggot
takes him: A----
_Mast._ You may go on, Sir, in this ludicrous Strain, if you please,
and fancy 'tis Wit; but, in my Opinion, a good Wife is the greatest
Blessing, and the most valuable possession, that Heaven in this Life
can bestow. She makes the Cares of the World sit easy, and adds a
Sweetness to its Pleasures. She is a Man's best Companion in
Prosperity, and his only Friend in Adversity. The carefullest Preserver
of his Health, and the kindest Attendant on his Sickness. A faithful
Adviser in Distress, a Comforter in Affliction, and a prudent Manager
of all his Domestick Affairs.
_2 La._ [_Aside._] Charming Doctrine!
_3 Gent._ Well, Sir, since I find you so staunch an Advocate for
Matrimony, I confess 'tis a Wedding-Ring I want; the Reason why I
deny'd it, and of what I said in Ridicule of Marriage, was only to
avoid the Ridicule which I expected from you upon it.
_Mast._ Why that now is just the Way of the World in every Thing,
especially, amongst young People. They are asham'd to do a good Action
because it is not a fashionable one, and in Compliance with Custom act
contrary to their own Consciences. They displease themselves to please
the Coxcombs of the World, and chuse rather to be Objects of divine
Wrath than humane Ridicule.
_3 Gent._ 'Tis very true, indeed. There is not one Man in Ten Thousand
that dare be virtuous for Fear of being singular. 'Tis a Weakness which
I have hitherto been too much guilty of my self; but for the future I
am resolv'd upon a more steady Rule of Action.
_Mast._ I am very glad of it. Here's your Ring, Sir. I think it comes
to about a Guinea.
_3 Gent._ There's the Money.
_Mast._ Sir, I wish you all the Joy that a good Wife can give you.
_3 Gent._ I thank you, Sir. [_Exit._
_1 La._ Well, Sir, but, after all, don't you think Marriage a Kind of a
desperate Venture?
_Mast._ It is a desperate Venture, Madam, to be sure. But, provided
there be a tolerable Share of Sense and Discretion on the Man's part,
and of Mildness and Condescension on the Woman's, there is no danger of
leading as happy and as comfortable a Life in that State as in any
other.
_Enter a fourth Lady._
_4 Lady._ I want a Mask, Sir, Have you got any?
_Mast._ No, Madam, I have not one indeed. The People of this Age are
arriv'd to such perfection in the Art of masking themselves, that they
have no Occasion for any Foreign Disguises at all. You shall find
Infidelity mask'd in a Gown and Cassock; and wantonness and immodesty
under a blushing Countenance. Oppression is veil'd under the Name of
Justice, and Fraud, and Cunning under that of Wisdom. The Fool is
mask'd under an affected Gravity, and the vilest Hypocrite under the
greatest Professions of Sincerity. The Flatterer passes upon you under
the Air of a Friend; and he that now huggs you in his Bosom, for a
Shilling would cut your Throat. Calumny and Detraction impose
themselves upon the World for Wit, and an eternal Laugh wou'd fain be
thought Good-nature. An humble Demeaner is assum'd from a Principle of
Pride, and the Wants of the Indigent relieved out of Ostentation. In
short, Worthlessness and Villany are oft disguis'd and dignified in
Gold and Jewels, whilst Honesty and Merit lie hid under Raggs and
Misery. The whole World is in a Mask, and it is impossible to see the
natural Face of any one Individual.
_4 Lady._ That's a Mistake, Sir, you your self are an Instance, that no
Disguise will hide a Coxcomb; and so your humble Servant.
_Mast._ Humph!----Have I but just now been exclaiming against Coxcombs,
and am I accused of being one my self? Well----we can none of us see
the ridiculous Part of our own Characters. Could we but once learn to
criticize ourselves; and to find out and expose to our selves our own
weak Sides, it would be the surest Means to conceal them from the
Criticism of others. But I would fain hope I am not a Coxcomb,
methinks, whatever I am else.
_Gent._ I suppose you have said something which her Conscience would
not suffer her to pass over without making the ungrateful Application
to herself, and that, as it often happens, instead of awaking in her a
Sense of her Fault, has only serv'd to put her in a Passion.
_Mast._ May be so indeed. At least I am willing to think so.
_Enter an old Man._
_O. M._ I want a pair of Spectacles, Sir.
_Mast._ Do you please to have 'em plain Tortoise-shell, or set in Gold
or Silver?
_O. M._ Pho! Do you think I buy Spectacles as your fine Gentlemen buy
Books? If I wanted a pair of Spectacles only to look _at_, I would have
'em fine ones; but as I want them to look _with_, do ye see, I'll have
'em good ones.
_Mast._ Very well, Sir. Here's a pair I'm sure will please you. Thro'
these Spectacles all the Follies of Youth are seen in their true Light.
Those Vices which to the strongest youthful Eyes appear in Characters
scarce legible, are thro' these Glasses discern'd with the greatest
Plainness. A powder'd Wig upon an empty Head, attracts no more respect
thro' these Opticks than a greasy Cap; and the Lac'd Coat of a Coxcomb
seems altogether as contemptible as his Footman's Livery.
_O. M._ That indeed is showing things in their true Light.
_Mast._ The common Virtue of the World appears only a Cloak for
Knavery; and it's Friendships no more than Bargains of Self-Interest.
In short, he who is now passing away his Days in a constant Round of
Vanity, Folly, Intemperance, and Extravagance, when he comes seriously
to look back upon his past Actions, thro' these undisguising Opticks,
will certainly be convinc'd, that a regular Life, spent in the Study of
Truth and Virtue, and adorn'd with Acts of Justice, Generosity,
Charity, and Benevolence, would not only have afforded him more Delight
and Satisfaction in the present Moment, but would likewise have rais'd
to his Memory a lasting Monument of Fame and Honour.
_O. M._ Humph! 'Tis very true; but very odd that such serious Ware
should be the Commodity of a Toy-shop. [_Aside._] Well, Sir, and what's
the Price of these extraordinary Spectacles?
_Mast._ Half a Crown.
_O. M._ There's your Money. [_Exit._
_Enter a fourth young Gentleman._
_4 Gent._ I want a small pair of Scales.
_Mast._ You shall have them, Sir.
_4 Gent._ Are they exactly true?
_Mast._ The very Emblem of Justice, Sir, a Hair will turn 'em.
[_Ballancing the Scales._]
_4 Gent._ I would have them true, for they must determine some very
nice statical Experiments.
_Mast._ I'll engage they shall justly determine the nicest Experiments
in Staticks, I have try'd them my self in some uncommon Subjects, and
have prov'd their Goodness. I have taken a large Handful of Great Men's
Promises, and put into one end; and lo! the Breath of a Fly in the
other has kick'd up the Beam. I have seen four Peacock's Feathers, and
the four Gold Clocks in Lord _Tawdry's_ Stockings, suspend the Scales
in Equilibrio. I have found by Experiment, that the Learning of a Beau,
and the Wit of a Pedant are a just Counterpoise to each other. That the
Pride and Vanity of any Man are in exact Proportion to his Ignorance.
That a Grain of Good-nature will preponderate against an Ounce of Wit;
a Heart full of Virtue against a Head full of Learning; an a Thimble
full of Content against a Chest full of Gold.
_4 Gent._ This must be a very pretty Science, I fancy.
_Mast._ It would be endless to enumerate all the Experiments that might
be made in these Scales; but there is one which every Man ought to be
appriz'd of; and that is, that a Moderate Fortune, enjoy'd with
Content, Freedom, and Independency will turn the Scales against
whatever can be put in the other End.
_4 Gent._ Well, this is a Branch of Staticks, which I must own I had
but little Thoughts of entering into. However I begin to be persuaded,
that to know the true Specifick Gravity of this Kind of Subjects, is of
infinitely more Importance than that of any other Bodies in the
Universe.
_Mast._ It is indeed. And that you may not want Encouragement to
proceed in so useful a Study, I will let you have the Scales for Ten
Shillings. If you make a right Use of them, they will be worth more to
you than Ten Thousand Pounds.
_4 Gent._ I confess I am struck with the Beauty and Usefulness of this
Kind of moral Staticks, and believe I shall apply myself to make
Experiments with great Delight. There's your Money, Sir: You shall hear
shortly what Discoveries I make; in the mean Time, I am your humble
Servant. [_Exit._
_Mast._ Sir, I am yours.
_Enter a second_ Old Man.
_2 Old Man._ Sir, I understand you deal in Curiosities. Have you any
Thing in your Shop, at present, that's pretty and curious?
_Mast._ Yes, Sir, I have a great many Things. But the most ancient
Curiosity I have got, is a small Brass Plate, on which is engrav'd the
Speech which _Adam_ made to his Wife, on their first Meeting, together
with her Answer. The Characters, thro' Age, are grown unintelligible;
but for that 'tis the more to be valued. What is remarkable in this
ancient Piece is, that _Eve_'s Speech is about three Times as long as
her Husband's. I have a Ram's Horn, one of those which help'd to blow
down the Walls of _Jericho._ A Lock of _Sampson_'s Hair, tied up in a
Shred of _Joseph_'s Garment. With several other _Jewish_ Antiquities,
which I purchas'd of that People at a very great Price. Then I have the
Tune which _Orpheus_ play'd to the Devil, when he charm'd back his
Wife.
_Gent._ That was thought to be a silly Tune, I believe, for no Body has
over car'd to learn it since.
_Mast._ Close cork'd up in a Thumb Phial, I have some Drops of Tears
which _Alexander_ wept, because he could do no more Mischief. I have a
Snuff-box made out of the Tub in which _Diogenes_ liv'd, and took Snuff
at all the World. I have the Net in which _Vulcan_ caught his Spouse
and her Gallant; but our modern Wives are now grown so exceeding
chaste, that there has not been an Opportunity of casting it these many
Years.
_Gent._ [_Aside to the Ladies._] Some would be so malicious now as
instead of chaste to think he meant cunning.
_Mast._ I have the Pitch Pipe of _Gracchus_, the _Roman_ Orator, who,
being apt, in Dispute, to raise his Voice too high, by touching a
certain soft Note in this Pipe, would regulate and keep it in a
moderate Key.
_2 La._ Such a Pipe as that, if it could be heard, would be very useful
in Coffee-houses, and other publick Places of Debate and modern
Disputation.
_Gent._ Yes, Madam, and, I believe, many a poor Husband would be glad
of such a Regulator of the Voice in his own private Family too.
_Mast._ There you was even with her, Sir. But the most valuable
Curiosity I have, is a certain hollow Tube, which I call a
_Distinguisher_; contriv'd with such Art, that, when rightly applied to
the Ear, it obstructs all Falshood, Nonsence, and Absurdity, from
striking upon the Tympanum: Nothing but Truth and Reason can make the
least Impression upon the Auditory Nerves. I have sate in a
Coffee-house sometimes, for the Space of Half an Hour, and amongst what
is generally call'd the best Company, without hearing a single word. At
a Dispute too, when I could perceive, by the eager Motions of both
Parties, that they made the greatest Noise, I have enjoy'd the most
profound Silence. It is a very useful Thing to have about one, either
at Church or Play-house, or _Westminster-hall_; at all which Places a
vast Variety both of useful and diverting Experiments may be made with
it. The only Inconvenience attending it is, that no Man can make
himself a compleat Master of it under Twenty Years close and diligent
Practice: And that Term of Time it best commenc'd at Ten or Twelve
Years old.
_Gent._ That indeed is an Inconvenience that will make it not every
Body's Money. But one would think those Parents who see the Beauty and
the Usefulness of Knowledge, Virtue, and a distinguishing Judgment,
should take particular Care to engage their Children early in the Use
and Practice of such a _Distinguisher_, whilst they have Time before
them, and no other Concerns to interrupt their Application.
_Mast._ Some few do. But the Generality are so entirely taken up with
the Care of little Master's Complexion, his Dress, his Dancing, and
such like Effeminacies, that they have not the least Regard for any
internal Accomplishments whatsoever. They are so far from teaching him
to subdue his Passions, that they make it their whole Business to
gratify them all.
_2 Old Man._ Well, Sir; to some People these may be thought curious
Things, perhaps, and a very valuable Collection. But, to confess the
Truth, these are not the Sort of curious Things I wanted. Have you no
little Box, representing a wounded Heart, on the Inside the Lid? Nor
pretty Ring, with an amorous Poesy? Nothing of that Sort, which is
pretty and not common, in your Shop?
_Mast._ O yes, Sir! I have a very pretty Snuff-box here, on the inside
of the Lid, do ye see, is a Man of threescore and ten acting the Lover,
and hunting like a Boy after Gewgaws and Trifles, to please a Girl
with.
_2 O. M._ Meaning me, Sir? Do ye banter me, Sir?
_Mast._ If you take it to your self, Sir, I can't help it.
_2 O. M._ And is a Person of my Years and Gravity to be laugh'd at,
then?
_Mast._ Why, really, Sir, Years and Gravity do make such Childishness
very ridiculous, I can't help owning. However, I am very sorry I have
none of those curious Trifles for your Diversion, but I have delicate
Hobby Horses and Rattles if you please.
_2 O. M._ By all the Charms of _Araminta_, I will revenge this affront.
[_Exit._
_Gent._ Ha, ha, ha! how contemptible is Rage in Impotence! But pray,
Sir, don't you think this kind of Freedom with your Customers
detrimental to your Trade?
_Mast._ No, no, Sir, the odd Character I have acquir'd by this rough
kind of Sincerity and plain Dealing; together with the whimsical Humour
of moralizing upon every Trifle I sell; are the Things, which by
raising Peoples Curiosity, furnish me with all my Customers: And it is
only Fools and Coxcombs I am so free with.
_La._ And in my Opinion, you are in the Right of it. Folly and
Impertinence ought always to be the Objects of Satire and Ridicule.
_Gent._ Nay, upon second Thoughts, I don't know but this odd turn of
Mind, which you have given your self, may not only be entertaining to
several of your Customers, but, perhaps, very much so to your self.
_Mast._ Vastly so, Sir. It very often helps me to Speculations
infinitely agreeable. I can sit behind this Counter, and fancy my
little Shop, and the Transactions of it, an agreeable Representation of
the grand Theater of the World. When I see a Fool come in here, and
throw away 50 or 100 Guineas for a Trifle that is not really worth a
Shilling, I am sometimes surpriz'd: But when I look out into the World,
and see Lordships and Manors barter'd away for gilt Coaches and
Equipage; an Estate for a Title; and an easy Freedom in Retirement for
a servile Attendance in a Crowd; when I see Health with great eagerness
exchang'd for Diseases, and Happiness for a Game at Hazard; my Wonder
ceases. Surely the World is a great Toy-shop, and all it's Inhabitants
run mad for Rattles. Nay, even the very wisest of us, however, we may
flatter our selves, have some Failing or Weakness, some Toy or Trifle,
that we are ridiculously fond of. Yet, so very partial are we to our
own dear selves, that we over-look those Miscarriages in our own
Conduct, which we loudly exclaim against in that of others; and, tho'
the same Fool's Turbant fits us all,
_You say that I, I say that You are He,
And each Man swears "The Cap's not made for me."_
_Gent._ Ha, ha! 'Tis very true, indeed. But I imagine you now begin to
think it Time to shut up Shop. Ladies, do ye want any Thing else?
_1 La._ No, I think not. If you please to put up that Looking-glass;
and the Perspective, I will pay you for them.
_Gent._ Well, Madam, how do you like this whimsical Humourist?
_1. La._ Why, really, in my Opinion, the Man's as great a Curiosity
himself, as any Thing he has got in his Shop.
_Gent._ He is so indeed. I think we have heard a great Deal of Folly
very justly ridicul'd.