(_Enter_ SHARK _and_ LUCY--_meeting_)
_Shark._ Good morrow, Lucy.
_Lucy._ Good morrow, Shark.
_Shark._ Give me a Kiss, Hussy. (_Kisses her_)
_Lucy._ Psha--prithee don't touzle and mouzle a Body so; can't you
salute without rumpling one's Tucker and spoiling one's Things? I hate
to be tumbled. (_Adjusting herself_)
_Shark._ Ay, as much as you do Flattery or a looking Glass.
_Lucy._ Well, what's your Business this Morning? Have you any Message?
_Shark._ Yes, the old one: my Master's Duty to his gracious Uncle, Sir
Isaac Skinflint, and he hopes he rested well last night--that is, to
translate it out of the Language of Compliment into that of Sincerity,
he hopes the old Huncks has made his Will, my Master his sole Heir,
that he has had a very bad Night, and is within a few Hours of giving
up the Ghost and paying a Visit to his old friend Belzebub.
_Lucy._ We were afraid he would have gone off last night; he has had
two of his Epileptic Feasts.
_Shark._ Why sure the old Cannibal would not offer to make his Exit
without making his Will; that would ruin us all.
_Lucy._ Nay it would be a considerable Loss to me should he die
without a Will: for you know he has promised me a handsome Legacy.
_Shark._ And so he has to Thousands, my Dear; why, Child, I don't
believe he has spent thirty Shillings upon himself in Food for these
thirty years; all gratis, all upon the Spunge. Ay, ay, let Sir Isaac
Skinflint alone for mumping a Dinner. There has not been a
Churchwarden's or an Overseer's Feast these twenty years but what he
has been at. And when he is not at these Irish meals, he is preying
upon his Friends and Acquaintances, and promises them all Legacies.
"Well," he says, after he has filled his Paunch,--"I shall not forget
you. I shall remember all my Friends. I have you down in my Will."
Then he claps his hand upon the Servant's Head as he is going out--"I
shall think of you too, John. You are my old Friend"--but the Devil a
Louse he gives him; an old gouty Rogue! I'll warrant the old Hypocrite
has promised more Legacies than the Bank of England is able to pay.
Has he made any mention lately of his Nephew and Niece in the Country,
Sir Roger Bumper and his Sister?
_Lucy._ He expects them in Town today, or tomorrow at farthest, and I
believe he intends to make them joint Heirs with your Master.
_Shark._ He may intend it, but shall not accomplish it, take my word;
if he does I'll never plot again. You say he has never seen neither
the Nephew nor the Niece since they were Children?
_Lucy._ Never.
_Shark._ Then he shall see them in my proper Person before he sleeps,
and if I don't make him disinherit them, say I am a Fool and know
nothing of Mankind.
_Lucy._ Here your Master comes.
_Shark._ He's welcome.
(_Enter_ BELLAIR)
_Bell._ O Lucy, we are all undone.
_Lucy._ Bless us; what's the matter, Sir?
_Bell._ I am just come from my Lady Lovewealth's, who, to my great
Surprize, has assured me that my Addresses to her Daughter for the
future will be highly improper, for that my Uncle had not only refused
to make such a Settlement on me as she liked, but had resolved to
marry Harriet himself.
_Lucy._ Pray Sir, what says the young Lady to all this?
_Bell._ She seems to comply with her Mother's avaricious Temper, but
has vowed to me privately that should matters be brought to an
Extremity, she will never consent.
_Lucy._ You, Sir, must act the same part; seem to approve of the
Marriage by all means, for the more you oppose, the more violent they
will be. Trust the affair to Shark and me, and I'll engage we bring
you together in spite of Age and Avarice. I'll give the young Lady a
hint or two, which I believe will cure the old Fellow of his Lovefit!
Shark, go you and prepare your Disguises; do you act the Nephew and
the Niece well and I'll warrant everything else shall thrive.
(_Exit Shark_)
_Bell._ Dear Girl, the moment my Affairs are brought to bear, you may
depend upon the five hundred pounds I promised you.--Is my Uncle up
yet?
_Lucy._ He has been up this Hour--here he comes; be sure you comply
with him, let him say what he will.
(_Enter_ SKINFLINT _dressed in a Nightgown, a fur Nightcap,
his hands muffled in Flannel, his feet in gouty Shoes_)
_Bell._ A good morning to you, Sir.
_Skin._ A good morning to you, Nephew. Auh! auh!
_Bell._ I am sorry to hear, Sir, you have had so bad a Night.
_Skin._ I had indeed, Nephew; I was afraid it was all over. Such
another Fit would carry me off. Auh! auh!
_Bell._ But you are pretty well this morning, I hope, Sir.
_Skin._ Something better but very weak--very faint indeed, Nephew!
O--o--o, very faint.
_Bell._ You should take something comfortable, Sir--Cordials to repair
the breaches you Illness hath made.
_Skin._ Lord, Nephew, it would require such a monstrous deal of Money,
and really these Syringe Carriers and Glyster Baggs and Doctors give
themselves such Airs, that a Man can't have their Assistance, nor any
of their Druggs and Slops under their Weight in Gold; therefore, I
think, Nephew, since we are to dye we had better save our Money.
_Bell._ I grant you, Sir, the Fees of Surgeons and Physicians are
exorbitant,--yet as Health and Life are our most valuable Blessings,
we might lay a little out in Support of them--I mean in Cases of very
great Danger.
_Skin._ No, no, the--auh, auh!--the Tenement is not worth the
Repairs--auh--auh--I am like an old House that is ready to drop--the
first high Wind, down I shall go--the next fit will carry me off.
_Bell._ Heaven forbid, Sir.
_Skin._ Therefore, I am resolved--auh! to settle my Affairs this very
day. You know, Nephew, you were talking of Harriet, my Lady
Lovewealth's Daughter; but my Lady truly will not consent to the
Match, unless I make you my sole Heir, which you know, Child, cannot
be, as I have another Nephew and a Niece, Sir Roger Bumper and his
Sister, whom I intend to provide for.
_Bell._ Very true, Sir.
_Skin._ And so--Harry--as my Lady and I could not hit it off in regard
to you--she hath persuaded me to marry the Girl myself; what is your
Judgment of it, Nephew? ha!
_Bell._ If you like it, Sir, there can be no Objection to it.
(_Enter a_ SERVANT)
_Serv._ Sir, there is Mr. Littlewit, the Proctor, come to know your
Commands.
_Skin._ Desire him to walk in. (_Exit Servant_)
(_Enter Mr._ LITTLEWIT)
So Mr. Littlewit, I have sent for you upon a Business which will
perhaps surprize you; it is to draw up my marriage Articles.
_Little._ What between you and Death, I suppose. Ha! Your Will, I
reckon you mean.
_Skin._ Dear Mr. Littlewit, your Jest is very ill timed; I mean, Sir,
my marriage Articles with Harriet Lovewealth, and at the same time I
intend to make my Will too; here are the Directions in this Paper for
both; and let them be drawn up as soon as possible and looked over by
my old Friend, Doctor Leatherhead; and pray bring him with you this
Afternoon.
_Little._ Sir, your Directions shall be observed with Punctuality and
Expedition. (_Exit_)
_Skin._ So you approve of my Marriage, you say, Nephew?
_Bell._ I think it the best thing you can do, Sir.
_Skin._ Why, Nephew, notwithstanding--I am so shattered with Age--and
Infirmities--I assure you I have more Vigour than People imagine; what
think you, Lucy?
_Lucy._ Your Eyes, Sir, look very sparkling and lively--but I think
a--um--your other parts are not quite so brisk.
_Skin._ Why ay, 'tis true, my other parts are a little--a little
morbific or so, as the Doctors say; but Harriet is very young, and
she will be a charming Bedfellow. Besides, Nephew, I have a great
Satisfaction in Disappointing my Crew of Relations, who have been like
as many Undertakers for these twenty years past, enquiring not after
my Health but my Death; but I'll be revenged on them. I will have the
Pleasure of sending for 'em all, one by one, and assuring them I will
not leave a single Shilling among them.
(_Enter a_ SERVANT)
_Serv._ Sir, My Lady Lovewealth and her Daughter are come to wait on
you.
_Skin._ Odso. I did not expect them so soon--Stay, stay, Boy; don't
shew them up yet; my Mistress must not find me in this Pickle. Go you
down, Lucy, and shew them into the Parlour, but return directly and
help to dress me. (_Exeunt Lucy and Servant_) Come, Nephew, help me
off with this Gown and Cap; let me make myself as agreeable as I can
for my Mistress. Gently, gently, Child, have a care, have a care of my
Hand (_pulling off the Gown_)! Oh! Oh! Oh! you have touched my gouty
Finger. (_Enter Lucy_) Come hither, Lucy, do you dress me; you are
most used to it. Are my Flannels warm?
_Lucy._ Here, here, all roasted--they have been at the Fire these
three Hours. (_Lucy and Bellair dress him up like a ridiculous old
man; they put a heap of Flannels on him, then his Clothes, and a
ridiculous Tye Wig_)
_Skin._ Well, how do I look now? Pretty well, ha?
_Bell._ Very well, Sir, and very genteel.
_Skin._ Now shew the Ladies up, Lucy. I protest this dressing hath
fatigued me, auh! auh! auh! (_coughing_)
_Lucy._ (_To Bellair as she goes out_) I have hinted something to
Harriet which I believe will break off the Match infallibly.
(_Exit_)
_Skin._ Nephew, notwithstanding, auh!--This Marriage, I shall make a
handsome Provision for you.
_Bell._ Sir, your Health and Happiness are my chiefest Blessings.
(_Enter Lady_ LOVEWEALTH, HARRIET _and_ LUCY)
_Lad._ Sir Isaac Skinflint, I am glad to see you up and dressed this
morning. We had a report in our Neighbourhood that you died last
Night.
_Skin._ Ay, Madam, Envious Wretches who expect Legacies--and who wish
me in my Grave--spread it abroad--'tis true I was a little out of
order last Night, but I'm mighty well today. Auh! Auh! Extremely well.
Auh! Auh! Lucy, give me a little of that Hartshorn.
_Bell._ Upon my word, Sir, I never saw you look better. Pray young
Lady, what do you think?
_Har._ Indeed, Sir, I think the Gentleman looks extremely gay and
healthy.
_Skin._ I should be very ill indeed, Madam, if such powerful Eyes as
yours could not give me new Life. (_Bowing very low_)
_Har._ O Sir, your Servant. (_Curtsying very low_)
_Lad._ Very gallant indeed, Sir.
_Skin._ Yes, Madam, you will be a Medea's Kettle to me from [whence] I
shall receive new Vigour. Your Charms will be a vivifying Nostrum to
the morbific parts, which Infirmity and Age have laid hold of. You
will be an Inlap to my Heart--and my Marriage will be an infallible
Specific which I shall take as my last Remedy.--Give me a little of
that Cordial.
_Har._ Sir, whatever commands my Lady thinks proper to lay on me, I
shall think it my Duty to give them an implicit Obedience. (_She
curtsies all the while. Skin. bows_)
_Lad._ You see, Sir Isaac, my Daughter is entirely directed by my
Will; so if you are ready to fulfill the Agreement, that is to settle
a thousand pounds a year on her during your own Life, and your whole
Fortune in Reversion upon your Decease, she is ready to marry you.
_Skin._ Madam, I am as ready as she, and have given orders to my
Lawyer to draw up the Articles for that purpose with the utmost
Expedition, and I expect them to be brought every moment ready to
sign.
_Lad._ Then, Harriet, I will leave you here, Child, while I call
upon my Lawyer in Lincoln's Inn, who is to peruse the Writings.--Mrs.
Lucy, pray will you let one of your Men order my Coach up to the Door.
(_Exit Lucy_)
Sir Isaac Skinflint, your Servant. Mr. Bellair, yours. (_Exit_)
_Skin._ [To Harriet] Come Madam, let not these naughty Flannels
disgust you; I can pull 'em off upon--um--ahu--certain Occasions. I
shall look better in a few days.
_Har._ Better! That's impossible, Sir, you can't look better.
_Skin._ O Lord, Madam! (_Bowing_)
_Har._ (_Takes him by the hand_) There, there's a Figure; do but view
him. Sir, I never saw a finer Figure for a Shroud and Coffin in my
Life.
_Skin._ Madam! (_starting_)
_Har._ I say, Sir, you are a most enchanting Figure for a Shroud and
Coffin.
_Skin._ Shroud and Coffin! (_He walks off! She after him_)
_Har._ Well I can't help admiring your Intrepidity, Sir Isaac; o' my
Conscience, you have more Courage than half the young Fellows in Town.
Why what a Don Quixot are you to venture that shattered, shabby, crazy
Carcass of yours into a Marriage Bed with a hale Constitution of
Nineteen!
_Skin._ Why really, Madam----
_Har._ Why really, Sir, you'll repent it.
_Skin._ I believe it, I believe it, Madam.
_Har._ What you, who are a gouty, cholicky, feverish, paralytick,
hydropic, asthmatic, and a thousand Diseases besides, venture to light
Hymen's Torch! Why, Sir, it is perfect Madness; it is making but one
Step from your Wedding to your Grave. Pray Sir, how long do you expect
to live?
_Skin._ Not long I am sure if I marry you.
_Har._ You are in the right on't, Sir; it will not be consistent with
my Pleasure or my Interest that you should live above a Fortnight;
um--ay, in about a Fortnight I can do it. Let me see; ay, it is but
pulling away a Pillow in one of your coughing Fits--or speaking
properly to your Apothecary--a very little Ratsbane or Laudanum will
do the Business!
_Skin._ O monstrous!
_Bell._ Madam, this is a behaviour unbecoming the Daughter of Lady
Lovewealth, and what I am confident her Ladyship will highly resent.
_Har._ You are mistaken, Sir; my Lady has consented to his Death in a
Fortnight after our Marriage.
_Skin._ O lud! O lud!
_Har._ She begged hard for a Month, but I could not agree to it; so
now the only Dispute between us is whether he shall be poisoned or
strangled.
_Skin._ O horrid! O terrible! So then it was agreed between you that I
should be sent out of the World one way or t'other.
_Har._ Yes Sir. What other Treatment could you expect, you who are a
mere walking Hospital! an Infirmary! O shocking! Ha! ha! There's a
Figure to go to bed with. (_Pointing at him and bursting into a
Laugh_)
_Skin._ I shall choke with Rage. Auh! Auh!
_Bell._ Madam, I cannot stand by and see this Treatment.--If you use
him thus before Marriage, what ought he to expect after it?
_Har._ What? Why I have told him, Death! Death! Death!
_Skin._ Ay, you have indeed, Madam, and I thank you for it, but it
shall never be in your Power, either to strangle or poison me. Auh!
Auh! I would as soon marry a she Dragon; Nephew, I beg you will turn
her out--see her out of the House, pray.
_Bell._ Madam, let me beg you will shorten your Visit.
_Har._ O Sir, with all my Heart; I see you are a Confederate with your
Uncle in this Affair, but I shall insist upon his Promise of Marriage;
I can prove it, and assure yourself, Sir, if there be Law in
Westminster Hall or Doctors Commons, you shall hear from me, and so
your Servant, Sir. (_Goes off in a Passion_)
_Skin._ Dear Nephew, see her out of the House; she has almost
worried me to Death. (_Sits down_) (_Exit Bellair_)
(_Enter_ LUCY)
_Skin._ O Lucy, give me a little Inlap or Hartshorn or something to
raise my Spirits. Had ever Man so happy an Escape?
_Lucy._ Ay, Sir, you'd say it was a happy Escape indeed, if you knew
all; why Sir, it is whispered everywhere that she had an Intrigue last
Summer at Scarborough with a Captain of Horse.
_Skin._ I don't in the least doubt it; she who could give Ratsbane or
Laudanum to her Husband, I believe would not hesitate at a little
Fornication.
(SHARK _without, dressed like a Fox Hunter, drunk, knocking very loud
and hollowing_)
_Shar._ Haux, haux, haux, my Honies, Heyhe! House, where the Devil are
you all?
_Skin._ Bless us, who is it knocks so? ([_knocking_] _within_)
_Lucy._ The Lord knows, Sir, some Madman I believe--It is Shark, I
suppose. (_Aside_)
(_Enter_ SHARK)
_Shar._ Hey House! Family! Where are you all?
_Lucy._ What do you want, Sir?
_Shar._ What's that to you, Hussy? Where's Skinflint?
_Lucy._ Skinflint!
_Shar._ Ay, Skinflint.
_Lucy._ There is my Master, Sir Isaac Skinflint, in that great Chair.
_Shar._ (_Going up to him looking in his Face and laughing_) A damned
odd Sort of a Figure: a cursed queer old Fellow to look at. Is your
name Skinflint?
_Skin._ It is, Sir.
_Shar._ Then give me you Hand, old Boy. (_Shakes him by the Flannels_)
_Skin._ Hold, hold, Sir, you'll kill me if you han't a Care.
_Shar._ So much the better; the sooner you die the better for me.
_Skin._ For you? Pray, Sir, who are you?
_Shar._ Your Nephew who has rid a hundred Miles on purpose to take
Possession of your Estate.
_Skin._ Are you my Nephew?
_Shar._ Yes, Sir.
_Skin._ I am sorry for it.
_Shar._ My Name is Bumper; my Father, Sir Barnaby Bumper, took to Wife
a Lady who as I have been told was your Sister; which said Sister,
Sir, brought me into the World in less than four Months after her
Marriage.
_Skin._ In four Months?
_Shar._ Yes, Sir, My Father was a little displeased with it at first;
but upon his being informed that such forward Births were frequent in
your Family, he was soon reconciled to it.
_Skin._ They belied our Family, Sir--for our Family----
_Shar._ Hush! hush! Don't expose them. They were always a damned
whoring Family; I must confess I have frequently blushed at the
quickness of my Mother's conception, for it has often been thrown in
my Teeth; but since it has made me your Heir, that will set me above
the Disgrace.
_Skin._ My Heir!
_Shar._ Ay, your Heir, Sir. I am come to Town on purpose to take
Possession. We had an Account in the Country that you were dead.
_Skin._ And I suppose you are not a little mortified to find the
Report is false, ha?
_Shar._ Why, I am sorry to find you alive, I must confess. I was in
hopes to have found you stretched out and ready for the black
Gentleman to say Grace over you.
_Skin._ Sir, your Servant.
_Shar._ May the strawberry Mare knock up the next hard Chace if I have
not ridden as hard to be at your Earthing as ever I did to be in at
the Death of a Fox.
_Skin._ It was most affectionately done of you, Nephew, and I shall
remember you for it.--A Villain! I'll not leave him a Groat. (_Aside_)
_Shar._ However since you are alive, Uncle, I am glad to see you look
so ill.
_Skin._ I am very much obliged to you, Nephew. (_Aside to Lucy_) Was
there ever such a Reprobate, Lucy?
_Shar._ They tell me you have a damned deal of money that you have got
by Extortion and Usury and Cheating of Widows and Orphans to whom you
have been Guardian and Executor, ha--but I suppose you intend every
Grig of it for me, ha! Old Boy, I'll let it fly. I'll release the
yellow Sinners from their Prisons; they shall never be confined by me.
_Skin._ I believe you, Nephew.
_Shar._ But harkee you, Uncle, my Sister is come to Town too, and she
thinks to come in for Snacks--but not a Grig--d'ye hear--not a Grig--I
must have every Souse--Cousin Bellair too, that Prig, I hear, is
looking out Sharp--But if you leave a Denier to any of them without my
Consent you shall be buried alive in one of your own iron Chests, and
sent as a present to your old Friend Belzebub.
_Skin._ To be sure, Nephew, you are so very dutiful and affectionate
that I shall be entirely directed by you. Lucy, (_Aside to Lucy_) I am
afraid this Villain is come to murder me; step in and call Bellair
this Instant. (_Exit Lucy_) Pray Nephew, how long have you been in
Town?
_Shar._ I came to Town late last Night--and hearing you were alive, I
was resolved I would not sleep 'till I had seen you. So I went amongst
the Coffee Houses at Covent Garden where I made a charming Riot; I
fought a Duel, beat the Watch, kicked the Bawds, broke their Punch
Bowls, clapt an old Market Woman upon her Head in the middle of a
Kennel, bullied a Justice, and made all the Whores as drunk----
_Skin._ As yourself, I suppose. Upon my word, Nephew, you have made
good use of your time since you have been in Town.
_Shar._ Ay, han't I, old Skinflint? Zounds I love a Riot; don't you
love a Riot, Uncle?
_Skin._ O most passionately.
_Shar._ Give me your Hand. (_Slaps him upon the Shoulder_) Old Boy, I
love you for that.
_Skin._ O, O, O, O, he has killed me; I am murdered.
_Shar._ Rot your old crazy Carcass, what do you cry out for, ha?
_Skin._ O, O, O, I can't bear to be touched.
_Shar._ O, O, Oh! Damn you, why don't you die then? Harkee Uncle, how
long do you intend to live? Ha! I'll allow you but three days, and if
you don't die in that time, dead or alive, I'll have you buried. For I
am resolved not to stir out of Town 'till I see that Bag of Bones of
yours, that old rotten Carcass pailed up between four substantial Elms
and laid twenty foot deep in the Earth, and then light lie the Turf,
and flourish long Bow. Toll, loll, de doll, ha! ha! Uncle, I'll take
care of your safe Passage to Pluto, never fear.
_Skin._ Had ever Man such a Reprobate Relation? O the Villain!
(_Enter Mr._ DEATH)
_Shar._ O Mr. Death, your Servant.
_Death._ I am come, Sir, according to your Commands; pray which is the
Gentleman I am to take Measure of?
_Shar._ That old Prig in the Chair there.
_Death._ Sir, your humble Servant.
_Skin._ Sir, your Servant. What are your Commands with me?
_Death._ Sir, my Name is Death.
_Skin._ Death!
_Death._ Yes Sir, at your Service, Dismal Death of--pretty well known
in this City.
_Skin._ And pray Mr. Dismal Death, what do you want with me?
_Death._ I am come to take measure of you for a Coffin.
_Skin._ What! How!
_Shar._ Yes you old Prig, I ordered him to take Measure of you and
Measure he shall take this Instant; do you hear, Mr. Death, measure
him, measure the old Prig; I'll hold him fast.
(SHARK _lays hold of him while Mr._ DEATH _measures him_)
_Skin._ Are you going to murder me? You Villain! Here Lucy, Nephew,
Murder!
(_Enter_ LUCY _and_ BELLAIR)
_Bell._ How now, what's the matter? Are you going to rob my Uncle?
_Death._ No, no, Sir, we are only taking Measure of him for a Coffin.
_Skin._ O Nephew, they have almost killed me! Here is your cousin
Bumper come to take Possession of my Fortune whether I will or no; and
[he] has brought a frightful Fellow to take Measure of me for a Coffin
and Shroud, and swears he will bury me within these three days, dead
or alive.
_Bell._ Are not you ashamed, Cousin Bumper, to use our Uncle so
inhumanly?
_Shar._ Damn you Prig, have you a mind to resent it? If you have, lug
out, and I'll soon dispatch you. (_Draws_)
_Skin._ Was there ever such a bloody minded Villain? Dear Nephew, come
in with me; I'll do his Business for him in a more effectual way than
fighting. I'll swear the Peace against him and make my Will, without
leaving him a Shilling. (_Exit with Bellair_)
_Shar._ So far the Plow speeds. I think we have done Mr. Bumper's
Business for him. That Obstacle is pretty well removed--We have
nothing to do now but to provide for his Sister the Widow, and then to
contrive some means to frighten the old Fellow into a Will in favour
of my Master.
_Lucy._ Ay, Shark, that is the chiefest Difficulty, the Masterpiece,
and unless you accomplish that you do nothing.
_Shar._ I know it, my Dear; here, here (_pointing to his head_), here,
here--the Embryo is here, and will come forth perfect in less than ten
Minutes. Why Lucy, I have a Genius to Deceit, and wanted nothing but
an Opportunity to shew it.
_Lucy._ I think you have a very fair one now.
_Shar._ I have so, and never fear, Girl, I'll engage I make a proper
use of it. Lord, how many great Men have been lost for want of being
thrown into a proper light? On my Conscience, had I been bred in a
Court, I believe I should have made as great a Figure as ever Cromwell
did, for
_The Stateman's Skill like mine is all Deceit_
_What's Policy in him--in me's a Cheat._
_Titles and Wealth reward his noble Art,_
_Cudgels and Bruises mine--sometimes a Cart._
_Twas, is and will he, to the End of Time,_
_That Poverty not Fraud creates the Crime._
(_Exeunt_)