Produced by Anurag Garg, Charles Franks
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.
THE WORKS OF HENRY FIELDING
EDITED BY
GEORGE SAINTSBURY
IN TWELVE VOLUMES
VOL. XII.
* * * * *
MISCELLANIES
VOL. II.
THE LIFE AND DEATH OF TOM
THUMB THE GREAT AND SOME
MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS
BY HENRY FIELDING ESQ.
EDITED BY GEORGE
SAINTSBURY WITH
ILLUSTRATIONS BY
HERBERT RAILTON
& E. J. WHEELER.
* * * * *
CONTENTS OF VOL. II.
THE AUTHOR'S FARCE, ACTS I. AND II.
THE TRAGEDY OF TRAGEDIES; OR, THE LIFE AND DEATH
OF TOM THUMB THE GREAT
PASQUIN; A DRAMATIC SATIRE ON THE TIMES
AN ESSAY ON CONVERSATION
THE TRUE PATRIOT, NO. XIII.
THE COVENT-GARDEN JOURNAL, NOS. X., XXXIII.
FAMILIAR LETTER
* * * * *
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
PORTRAIT OF FIELDING BY HOGARTH
THE DEATH OF LORD GRIZZLE
HE ACQUAINTED THE DAMSELS THAT HE AND
HIS COMPANIONS HAD CARRIED THE OPERA.
* * * * *
THE AUTHOR'S FARCE;
[WITH A PUPPET-SHOW CALLED THE PLEASURES OF THE TOWN.]
FIRST ACTED AT THE HAY-MARKET IN 1729, AND REVIVED
SOME YEARS AFTER AT DRURY-LANE, WHEN IT WAS
REVISED AND GREATLY ALTERED BY THE AUTHOR, AS
NOW PRINTED.
----------------Quis iniquae
Tam patiens urbis, tam ferreus, ut teneat se?
--_JUV_. Sat. I.
PROLOGUE, SPOKEN BY MR JONES
Too long the Tragick Muse hath aw'd the stage,
And frighten'd wives and children with her rage,
Too long Drawcansir roars, Parthenope weeps,
While ev'ry lady cries, and critick sleeps
With ghosts, rapes, murders, tender hearts they wound,
Or else, like thunder, terrify with sound
When the skill'd actress to her weeping eyes,
With artful sigh, the handkerchief applies,
How griev'd each sympathizing nymph appears!
And box and gallery both melt in tears
Or when, in armour of Corinthian brass,
Heroick actor stares you in the face,
And cries aloud, with emphasis that's fit, on
Liberty, freedom, liberty and Briton!
While frowning, gaping for applause he stands,
What generous Briton can refuse his hands?
Like the tame animals design'd for show,
You have your cues to clap, as they to bow,
Taught to commend, your judgments have no share,
By chance you guess aright, by chance you err.
But, handkerchiefs and Britain laid aside,
To-night we mean to laugh, and not to chide.
In days of yore, when fools were held in fashion,
Tho' now, alas! all banish'd from the nation,
A merry jester had reform'd his lord,
Who would have scorn'd the sterner Stoick's word
Bred in Democritus his laughing schools,
Our author flies sad Heraclitus rules,
No tears, no terror plead in his behalf,
The aim of Farce is but to make you laugh
Beneath the tragick or the comick name,
Farces and puppet shows ne'er miss of fame
Since then, in borrow'd dress, they've pleas'd the town,
Condemn them not, appearing in their own
Smiles we expect from the good-natur'd few,
As ye are done by, ye malicious, do,
And kindly laugh at him who laughs at you.
PERSONS IN THE FARCE.
MEN.
_Luckless_, the Author and Master of the Show, ... Mr MULLART.
_Witmore_, his friend ... Mr LACY.
_Marplay, sen._, Comedian ... Mr REYNOLDS,
_Marplay, jun._, Comedian ... Mr STOPLER.
_Bookweight_, a Bookseller ... Mr JONES.
_Scarecrow_, Scribbler ... Mr MARSHAL,
_Dash_, " " ... Mr HALLAM,
_Quibble_, " " ... Mr DOVE,
_Blotpage_, " " ... Mr WELLS, jun.
_Index_ ... --------.
_Jack_, servant to Luckless ... Mr ACHURCH.
_Jack-Pudding_ ... Mr REYNOLDS.
_Bantomite_ ... Mr MARSHAL.
WOMEN.
_Mrs Moneywood_, the Author's Landlady ... Mrs MULLART.
_Harriot_, her daughter. ... Miss PALMS.
ACT I.
SCENE I.--LUCKLESS's _Room in_ Mrs MONEYWOOD'S
_House_.--Mrs MONEYWOOD, HARRIOT, LUCKLESS.
_Moneywood_. Never tell me, Mr Luckless, of your play, and your
play. I tell you I must be paid. I would no more depend on a
benefit-night of an unacted play than I would on a benefit-ticket in
an undrawn lottery. Could I have guessed that I had a poet in my
house! Could I have looked for a poet under laced clothes!
_Luck_. Why not? since you may often find poverty under them:
nay, they are commonly the signs of it. And, therefore, why may not a
poet be seen in them as well as a courtier?
_Money_. Do you make a jest of my misfortune, sir?
_Luck_. Rather my misfortune. I am sure I have a better title to
poverty than you; for, notwithstanding the handsome figure I make,
unless you are so good to invite me, I am afraid I shall scarce
prevail on my stomach to dine to-day.
_Money_. Oh, never fear that--you will never want a dinner till
you have dined at all the eating-houses round.--No one shuts their
doors against you the first time; and I think you are so kind, seldom
to trouble them a second.
_Luck_. No.--And if you will give me leave to walk out of your
doors, the devil take me if ever I come into 'em again,
_Money_. Pay me, sir, what you owe me, and walk away whenever you
please.
_Luck_. With all my heart, madam; get me a pen and ink, and I'll
give you my note for it immediately.
_Money_. Your note! who will discount it? Not your bookseller; for
he has as many of your notes as he has of your works; both good
lasting ware, and which are never likely to go out of his shop and his
scrutore.
_Har_. Nay, but, madam, 'tis barbarous to insult him in this
manner.
_Money_. No doubt you'll take his part. Pray get you about your
business. I suppose he intends to pay me by ruining you. Get you in
this instant: and remember, if ever I see you with him again I'll turn
you out of doors.
SCENE II--LUCKLESS, Mrs MONEYWOOD
_Luck_. Discharge all your ill-nature on me, madam, but spare
poor Miss Harriot.
_Money_. Oh! then it is plain. I have suspected your familiarity
a long while. You are a base man. Is it not enough to stay three
months in my house without paying me a farthing, but you must ruin my
child?
_Luck_. I love her as my soul. Had I the world I'd give it her
all.
_Money_. But, as you happen to have nothing in the world, I
desire you would have nothing to say to her. I suppose you would have
settled all your castles in the air. Oh! I wish you had lived in one
of them, instead of my house. Well, I am resolved, when you have gone
away (which I heartily hope will be very soon) I'll hang over my door
in great red letters, "No lodgings for poets." Sure never was such a
guest as you have been. My floor is all spoiled with ink, my windows
with verses, and my door has been almost beat down with duns.
_Luck_. Would your house had been beaten down, and everything but
my dear Harriot crushed under it!
_Money_. Sir, sir----
_Luck_. Madam, madam! I will attack you at your own weapons; I
will pay you in your own coin.
_Money_. I wish you'd pay me in any coin, sir.
_Luck_. Look ye, madam, I'll do as much as a reasonable woman can
require; I'll shew you all I have; and give you all I have too, if you
please to accept it. [_Turns his pockets Inside out_.
_Money_. I will not be used in this manner. No, sir, I will be
paid, if there be any such thing as law.
_Luck_. By what law you will put money into my pocket I know not;
for I never heard of any one who got money by the law but the
lawyers. I have told you already, and I tell you again, that the first
money I get shall be yours; and I have great expectations from my
play. In the mean time your staying here can be of no service, and you
may possibly drive some line thoughts out of my head. I would write a
love scene, and your daughter would be more proper company, on that
occasion, than you.
_Money_. You would act a love-scene, I believe; but I shall
prevent you; for I intend to dispose of myself before my daughter.
_Luck_. Dispose of yourself!
_Money_. Yes, sir, dispose of myself. 'Tis very well known that I
have had very good offers since my last dear husband died. I might
have had an attorney of New Inn, or Mr Fillpot, the exciseman; yes, I
had my choice of two parsons, or a doctor of physick; and yet I
slighted them all; yes, I slighted them for--for--for you.
_Luck_. For me?
_Money_. Yes, you have seen too visible marks of my passion; too
visible for my reputation. [_Sobbing_.
_Luck_. I have heard very loud tokens of your passion; but I
rather took it for the passion of anger than of love.
_Money_. Oh! it was love, indeed. Nothing but love, upon my
soul!
_Luck_. The devil! This way of dunning is worse than the other.
_Money_. If thou can'st not pay me in money, let me have it in
love. If I break through the modesty of my sex let my passion excuse
it. I know the world will call it an impudent action; but if you will
let me reserve all I have to myself, I will make myself yours for
ever.
_Luck_. Toll, loll, loll!
_Money_. And is this the manner you receive my declaration, you
poor beggarly fellow? You shall repent this; remember, you shall
repent it; remember that. I'll shew you the revenge of an injured
woman.
_Luck_. I shall never repent anything that rids me of you, I am
sure.
SCENE III.--LUCKLESS, HARRIOT.
_Luck_. Dear Harriot!
_Har_. I have waited an opportunity to return to you.
_Luck_. Oh! my dear, I am so sick!
_Har_. What's the matter?
_Luck_. Oh! your mother! your mother!
_Har_. What, has she been scolding ever since?
_Luck_. Worse, worse!
_Har_. Heaven forbid she should threaten to go to law with you.
_Luck_. Oh, worse! worse! she threatens to go to church with
me. She has made me a generous offer, that if I will but marry her she
will suffer me to settle all she has upon her.
_Har_. Generous creature! Sure you will not resist the proposal?
_Luck_. Hum! what would you advise me to?
_Har_. Oh, take her, take her, by all means; you will be the
prettiest, finest, loveliest, sweetest couple. Augh! what a delicate
dish of matrimony you will make! Her age with your youth, her avarice
with your extravagance, and her scolding with your poetry.
_Luck_. Nay, but I am serious, and I desire you would be so. You
know my unhappy circumstances, and your mother's wealth. It would be
at least a prudent match.
_Har_. Oh! extremely prudent, ha, ha, ha! the world will say,
Lard! who could have thought Mr Luckless had had so much prudence?
This one action will overbalance all the follies of your life.
_Luck_. Faith, I think it will: but, dear Harriot, how can I
think of losing you for ever? And yet, as our affairs stand, I see no
possibility of our being happy together. It will be some pleasure,
too, that I may have it in my power to serve you. Believe me, it is
with the utmost reluctance I think of parting with you. For if it was
in my power to have you----
_Har_. Oh, I am very much obliged to you; I believe you--Yes, you
need not swear, I believe you.
_Luck_. And can you as easily consult prudence, and part with me?
for I would not buy my own happiness at the price of yours.
_Har_. I thank you, sir--Part with you--intolerable vanity!
_Luck_. Then I am resolved; and so, my good landlady,
have at you.
_Har_. Stay, sir, let me acquaint you with one thing--you are a
villain! and don't think I'm vexed at anything, but that I should have
been such a fool as ever to have had a good opinion of you.
[_Crying_.
_Luck_. Ha, ha, ha! Caught, by Jupiter! And did my dear Harriot
think me in earnest?
_Har_. And was you not in earnest?
_Luck_. What, to part with thee? A pretty woman will be sooner in
earnest to part with her beauty, or a great man with his power.
_Har_. I wish I were assured of the sincerity of your love.
AIR. _Butter'd Pease_.
_Luck_. Does my dearest Harriot ask
What for love I would pursue?
Would you, charmer, know what task
I would undertake for you?
Ask the bold ambitious, what
He for honours would atchieve?
Or the gay voluptuous, that
Which he'd not for pleasure give?
Ask the miser what he'd do
To amass excessive gain?
Or the saint, what he'd pursue,
His wish'd heav'n to obtain?
These I would attempt, and more--
For, oh! my Harriot is to me
All ambition, pleasure, store,
Or what heav'n itself can be!
_Har_. Would my dearest Luckless know
What his constant Harriot can
Her tender love and faith to show
For her dear, her only man?
Ask the vain coquette what she
For men's adoration would;
Or from censure to be free,
Ask the vile censorious prude.
In a coach and six to ride,
What the mercenary jade,
Or the widow to be bride
To a brisk broad-shoulder'd blade.
All these I would attempt for thee,
Could I but thy passion fix;
Thy will my sole commander be,
And thy arms my coach and six.
_Money_. [_within_]. Harriot, Harriot.
_Har_. Hear the dreadful summons! adieu. I will take the first
opportunity of seeing you again.
_Luck_. Adieu, my pretty charmer; go thy ways for the first of
thy sex.
SCENE IV.--LUCKLESS, JACK.
_Luck_. So! what news bring you?
_Jack_. An't please your honour I have been at my lord's, and his
lordship thanks you for the favour you have offered of reading your
play to him; but he has such a prodigious deal of business, he begs to
be excused. I have been with Mr Keyber too--he made me no answer at
all. Mr Bookweight will be here immediately.
_Luck_. Jack.
_Jack_. Sir.
_Luck_. Fetch my other hat hither;--carry it to the pawnbroker's.
_Jack_. To your honour's own pawnbroker!
_Luck_. Ay--and in thy way home call at the cook's shop. So, one
way or other, I find my head must always provide for my belly.
SCENE V.--LUCKLESS, WITMORE.
_Luck_. I am surprized! dear Witmore!
_Wit_. Dear Harry!
_Luck_. This is kind, indeed; but I do not more wonder at finding
a man in this age who can be a friend to adversity, than that Fortune
should be so much my friend as to direct you to me; for she is a lady
I have not been much indebted to lately.
_Wit_. She who told me, I assure you, is one you have been
indebted to a long while.
_Luck_. Whom do you mean?
_Wit_. One who complains of your unkindness in not visiting
her--Mrs Lovewood.
_Luck_. Dost thou visit there still, then?
_Wit_. I throw an idle hour away there sometimes. When I am in
an ill-humour I am sure of feeding it there with all the scandal in
town, for no bawd is half so diligent in looking after girls with an
uncracked maidenhead as she in searching out women with cracked
reputations.
_Luck_. The much more infamous office of the two.
_Wit_. Thou art still a favourer of the women, I find.
_Luck_. Ay, the women and the muses--the high roads to beggary.
_Wit_. What, art thou not cured of scribling yet?
_Luck_. No, scribling is as impossible to cure as the gout.
_Wit_. And as sure a sign of poverty as the gout of
riches. 'Sdeath! in an age of learning and true politeness, where a
man might succeed by his merit, there would be some encouragement. But
now, when party and prejudice carry all before them; when learning is
decried, wit not understood; when the theatres are puppet-shows, and
the comedians ballad-singers; when fools lead the town, would a man
think to thrive by his wit? If you must write, write nonsense, write
operas, write Hurlothrumbos, set up an oratory and preach nonsense,
and you may meet with encouragement enough. Be profane, be scurrilous,
be immodest: if you would receive applause, deserve to receive
sentence at the Old Bailey; and if you would ride in a coach, deserve
to ride in a cart.
_Luck_. You are warm, my friend.
_Wit_. It is because I am your friend. I cannot bear to hear the
man I love ridiculed by fools--by idiots. To hear a fellow who, had he
been born a Chinese, had starved for want of genius to have been even
the lowest mechanick, toss up his empty noddle with an affected
disdain of what he has not understood; and women abusing what they
have neither seen nor heard, from an unreasonable prejudice to an
honest fellow whom they have not known. If thou wilt write against all
these reasons get a patron, be pimp to some worthless man of quality,
write panegyricks on him, flatter him with as many virtues as he has
vices. Then, perhaps, you will engage his lordship, his lordship
engages the town on your side, and then write till your arms ake,
sense or nonsense, it will all go down.
_Luck_. Thou art too satirical on mankind. It is possible to
thrive in the world by justifiable means.
_Wit_. Ay, justifiable, and so they are justifiable by
custom. What does the soldier or physician thrive by but
slaughter?--the lawyer but by quarrels?--the courtier but by
taxes?--the poet but by flattery? I know none that thrive by profiting
mankind, but the husbandman and the merchant: the one gives you the
fruit of your own soil, the other brings you those from abroad; and
yet these are represented as mean and mechanical, and the others as
honourable and glorious.
_Luck_. Well; but prithee leave railing, and tell me what you
would advise me to do.
_Wit_. Do! why thou art a vigorous young fellow, and there are
rich widows in town.
_Luck_. But I am already engaged.
_Wit_. Why don't you marry then--for I suppose you are not mad
enough to have any engagement with a poor mistress?
_Luck_. Even so, faith; and so heartily that I would not change
her for the widow of a Croesus.
_Wit_. Now thou art undone, indeed. Matrimony clenches ruin
beyond retrieval. What unfortunate stars wert thou born under? Was it
not enough to follow those nine ragged jades the muses, but you must
fasten on some earth-born mistress as poor as them?
_Mar. jun_. [_within_]. Order my chairman to call on me at
St James's.--No, let them stay.
_Wit_. Heyday, whom the devil have we here?
_Luck_. The young captain, sir; no less a person, I assure you.
SCENE VI.--LUCKLESS, WITMORE, MARPLAY, jun.
_Mar. jun_. Mr Luckless, I kiss your hands--Sir, I am your most
obedient humble servant; you see, Mr Luckless, what power you have
over me. I attend your commands, though several persons of quality
have staid at court for me above this hour.
_Luck_. I am obliged to you--I have a tragedy for your house, Mr
Marplay.
_Mar. jun_. Ha! if you will send it to me, I will give you my
opinion of it; and if I can make any alterations in it that will be
for its advantage, I will do it freely.
_Wit_. Alterations, sir?
_Mar. jun_. Yes, sir, alterations--I will maintain it. Let a
play be never so good, without alteration it will do nothing.
_Wit_. Very odd indeed!
_Mar. jun_. Did you ever write, sir?
_Wit_. No, sir, I thank Heaven.
_Mar. jun_. Oh! your humble servant--your very humble servant,
sir. When you write yourself, you will find the necessity of
alterations. Why, sir, would you guess that I had altered Shakspeare?
_Wit_. Yes, faith, sir, no one sooner.
_Mar. jun_. Alack-a-day! Was you to see the plays when they are
brought to us--a parcel of crude undigested stuff. We are the persons,
sir, who lick them into form--that mould them into shape. The poet
make the play indeed! the colourman might be as well said to make the
picture, or the weaver the coat. My father and I, sir, are a couple of
poetical tailors. When a play is brought us, we consider it as a
tailor does his coat: we cut it, sir--we cut it; and let me tell you
we have the exact measure of the town; we know how to fit their
taste. The poets, between you and me, are a pack of ignorant----
_Wit_. Hold, hold, sir. This is not quite so civil to Mr
Luckless; besides, as I take it, you have done the town the honour of
writing yourself.
_Mar. jun_. Sir, you are a man of sense, and express yourself
well. I did, as you say, once make a small sally into Parnassus--took
a sort of flying leap over Helicon; but if ever they catch me there
again--sir, the town have a prejudice to my family; for, if any play
could have made them ashamed to damn it, mine must. It was all over
plot. It would have made half a dozen novels: nor was it crammed with
a pack of wit-traps, like Congreve and Wycherly, where every one knows
when the joke was coming. I defy the sharpest critick of them all to
have known when any jokes of mine were coming. The dialogue was plain,
easy, and natural, and not one single joke in it from the beginning to
the end: besides, sir, there was one scene of tender melancholy
conversation--enough to have melted a heart of stone; and yet they
damned it--and they damned themselves; for they shall have no more of
mine.
_Wit_. Take pity on the town, sir.
_Mar. jun_. I! No, sir, no. I'll write no more. No more; unless
I am forced to it.
_Luck_. That's no easy thing, Marplay.
_Mar. jun_. Yes, sir. Odes, odes, a man may be obliged to write
those, you know.
_Luck_, and _Wit_. Ha, ha, ha! that's true indeed.
_Luck_. But about my tragedy, Mr Marplay.
_Mar. jun_. I believe my father is at the playhouse: if you
please, we will read it now; but I must call on a young lady
first--Hey, who's there? Is my footman there? Order my chair to the
door. Your servant, gentlemen.--_Caro vien_. [_Exit, singing_.
_Wit_. This is the most finished gentleman I ever saw; and hath
not, I dare swear, his equal.
_Luck_. If he has, here he comes.
SCENE VII.--LUCKLESS, WITMORE, BOOKWEIGHT.
_Luck_. Mr Bookweight, your very humble servant.
_Book_. I was told, sir, that you had particular business with
me.
_Luck_. Yes, Mr Bookweight; I have something to put into your
hands. I have a play for you, Mr Bookweight.
_Book_. Is it accepted, sir?
_Luck_. Not yet.
_Book_. Oh, sir! when it is, it will be then time enough to talk
about it. A play, like a bill, is of no value till it is accepted; nor
indeed when it is, very often. Besides, sir, our playhouses are grown
so plenty, and our actors so scarce, that really plays are become very
bad commodities. But pray, sir, do you offer it to the players or the
patentees?
_Luck_. Oh! to the players, certainly.
_Book_. You are in the right of that. But a play which will do on
the stage will not always do for us; there are your acting plays and
your reading plays.
_Wit_. I do not understand that distinction.
_Book_. Why, sir, your acting play is entirely supported by the
merit of the actor; in which case, it signifies very little whether
there be any sense in it or no. Now, your reading play is of a
different stamp, and must have wit and meaning in it. These latter I
call your substantive, as being able to support themselves. The
former are your adjective, as what require the buffoonery and gestures
of an actor to be joined with them to shew their signification.
_Wit_. Very learnedly defined, truly.
_Luck_. Well, but, Mr Bookweight, will you advance fifty guineas
on my play?
_Book_. Fifty guineas! Yes, sir. You shall have them with all my
heart, if you will give me security for them. Fifty guineas for a
play! Sir, I would not give fifty shillings.
_Luck_. 'Sdeath, sir! do you beat me down at this rate?
_Book_. No, nor fifty farthings. Fifty guineas! Indeed your name
is well worth that.
_Luck_. Jack, take this worthy gentleman and kick him down
stairs.
_Book_. Sir, I shall make you repent this.
_Jack_. Come, sir, will you please to brush?
_Book_. Help! murder! I'll have the law of you, sir.
_Luck_. Ha, ha, ha!
SCENE VIII.--LUCKLESS, WITMORE, MRS MONEYWOOD.
_Money_. What noise is this? It is a very fine thing, truly, Mr
Luckless, that you will make these uproars in my house.
_Luck_. If you dislike it, it is in your power to drown a much
greater. Do you but speak, madam, and I am sure no one will be heard
but yourself.
_Money_. Very well, indeed! fine reflexions on my character! Sir,
sir, all the neighbours know that I have been as quiet a woman as ever
lived in the parish. I had no noises in my house till you came. We
were the family of love. But you have been a nusance to the whole
neighbourhood. While you had money, my doors were thundered at every
morning at four and five, by coachmen and chairmen; and since you have
had none, my house has been besieged all day by creditors and
bailiffs. Then there's the rascal your man; but I will pay the dog, I
will scour him. Sir, I am glad you are a witness of his abuses of me.
_Wit_. I am indeed, madam, a witness how unjustly he has abused
you. [JACK _whispers_ LUCKLESS.
_Luck_. Witmore, excuse me a moment.
SCENE IX.--Mrs MONEYWOOD, WITMORE.
_Money_. Yes, sir; and, sir, a man that has never shewn one the
colour of his money.
_Wit_. Very hard, truly. How much may he be in your debt, pray?
Because he has ordered me to pay you.
_Money_. Ay! sir, I wish he had.
_Wit_. I am serious, I assure you.
_Money_. I am very glad to hear it, sir. Here is the bill as we
settled it this very morning. I always thought, indeed, Mr Luckless
had a great deal of honesty in his principles: any man may be
unfortunate; but I knew when he had money I should have it; and what
signifies dunning a man when he hath it not? Now that is a way with
some people which I could never come in to.
_Wit_. There, madam, is your money. You may give Mr Luckless the
receipt.
_Money_. Sir, I give you both a great many thanks. I am sure it
is almost as charitable as if you gave it me; for I am to make up a
sum to-morrow morning. Well, if Mr Luckless was but a little soberer
I should like him for a lodger exceedingly: for I must say, I think
him a very pleasant good-humoured man.
SCENE X.--LUCKLESS, WITMORE, MONEYWOOD.
_Luck_. Those are words I never heard out of that mouth before.
_Money_. Ha, ha, ha! you are pleased to be merry: ha, ha!
_Luck_. Why, Witmore, thou hast the faculty opposite to that of a
witch, and canst lay a tempest. I should as soon have imagined one man
could have stopt a cannon-ball in its full force as her tongue.
_Money_. Ha, ha, ha! he is the best company in the world, sir,
and so full of his similitudes!
_Wit_. Luckless, good morrow; I shall see you soon again.
_Luck_. Let it be soon, I beseech you; for thou hast brought a
calm into this house that was scarce ever in it before.
SCENE XI.--LUCKLESS, MRS MONEYWOOD, JACK.
_Money_. Well, Mr Luckless, you are a comical man, to give one
such a character to a stranger.
_Luck_. The company is gone, madam; and now, like true man and
wife, we may fall to abusing one another as fast as we please.
_Money_. Abuse me as you please, so you pay me, sir.
_Luck_. 'Sdeath! madam, I will pay you.
_Money_. Nay, sir, I do not ask it before it is due. I don't
question your payment at all: if you was to stay in my house this
quarter of a year, as I hope you will, I should not ask you for a
farthing.
_Luck_. Toll, loll, loll.--But I shall have her begin with her
passion immediately; and I had rather be the object of her rage for a
year than of her love for half an hour.
_Money_. But why did you choose to surprise me with my money? Why
did you not tell me you would pay me?
_Luck_. Why, have I not told you?
_Money_. Yes, you told me of a play, and stuff: but you never
told me you would order a gentleman to pay me. A sweet, pretty,
good-humoured gentleman he is, heaven bless him! Well, you have
comical ways with you: but you have honesty at the bottom, and I'm
sure the gentleman himself will own I gave you that character.
_Luck_. Oh! I smell you now.--You see, madam, I am better than my
word to you: did he pay it you in gold or silver?
_Money_. All pure gold.
_Luck_. I have a vast deal of silver, which he brought me,
within; will you do me the favour of taking it in silver? that will be
of use to you in the shop too.
_Money_. Anything to oblige you, sir.
_Luck_. Jack, bring out the great bag, number one. Please to
tell the money, madam, on that table.
_Money_. It's easily told: heaven knows there's not so much on't.
_Jack_. Sir, the bag is so heavy, I cannot bring it in.
_Luck_. Why, then, come and help to thrust a heavier bag out.
_Money_. What do you mean?
_Luck_. Only to pay you in my bed-chamber.
_Money_. Villain, dog, I'll swear a robbery, and have you hanged:
rogues, villains!
_Luck_. Be as noisy as you please--[_Shuts the door_.] Jack,
call a coach; and, d' ye hear? get up behind it and attend me.
ACT II.
SCENE I.--_The Playhouse_.--LUCKLESS, MARPLAY,
senior, MARPLAY, junior.
_Luck_. [_Reads_.]
"Then hence my sorrow, hence my ev'ry fear;
No matter where, so we are bless'd together.
With thee, the barren rocks, where not one step
Of human race lies printed in the snow,
Look lovely as the smiling infant spring."
_Mar. sen_. Augh! will you please to read that again, sir?
_Luck_. "Then hence my sorrow, hence my ev'ry fear."
_Mar. sen_. "Then hence my sorrow."--Horror is a much better
word.--And then in the second line--"No matter where, so we are
bless'd together."--Undoubtedly, it should be, "No matter where, so
somewhere we're together." Where is the question, somewhere is the
answer.--Read on, sir.
_Luck_. "With thee,----"
_Mar. sen_. No, no, I could alter those lines to a much better
idea.
"With thee, the barren blocks, where not a bit
Of human face is painted on the bark,
Look green as Covent-garden in the spring."
_Luck_. Green as Covent-garden!
_Mar. jun_. Yes, yes; Covent-garden market, where they sell
greens.
_Luck_. Monstrous!
_Mar. sen_. Pray, sir, read on.
_Luck_.
"LEANDRA: oh, my Harmonio, I could hear thee still;
The nightingale to thee sings out of tune,
While on thy faithful breast my head reclines,
The downy pillow's hard; while from thy lips
I drink delicious draughts of nectar down,
Falernian wines seem bitter to my taste."
_Mar. jun_. Here's meat, drink, singing, and lodging, egad.
_Luck_. He answers.
_Mar. jun_. But, sir----
_Luck_.
"Oh, let me pull thee, press thee to my heart,
Thou rising spring of everlasting sweets!
Take notice, Fortune, I forgive thee all!
Thou'st made Leandra mine. Thou flood of joy
Mix with my soul, and rush thro' ev'ry vein."
_Mar. sen_. Those two last lines again if you please.
_Luck_. "Thou'st made," &c.
_Mar. jun_.
"----Thou flood of joy,
Mix with my soul and rush thro' ev'ry vein."
Those are two excellent lines indeed: I never writ
better myself: but, Sar----
_Luck_.
"Leandra's mine, go bid the tongue of fate
Pronounce another word of bliss like that;
Search thro' the eastern mines and golden shores,
Where lavish Nature pours forth all her stores;
For to my lot could all her treasures fall,
I would not change Leandra for them all."
There ends act the first, and such an act as, I believe, never was on
this stage yet.
_Mar. jun_. Nor never will, I hope.
_Mar. sen_. Pray, sir, let me look at one thing. "Falernian
wines seem bitter to my taste."
Pray, sir, what sort of wines may your Falernian be? for I never heard
of them before; and I am sure, as I keep the best company, if there
had been such sorts of wines, I should have tasted them. Tokay I have
drank, and Lacrimas I have drank, but what your Falernian is, the
devil take me if I can tell.
_Mar. jun_. I fancy, father, these wines grow at the top of
Parnassus.
_Luck_. Do they so, Mr Pert? why then I fancy you have never
tasted them.
_Mar. sen_. Suppose you should say the wines of Cape are bitter
to my taste.
_Luck_. Sir, I cannot alter it.
_Mar. sen_. Nor we cannot act it. It won't do, sir, and so you
need give yourself no farther trouble about it.
_Luck_. What particular fault do you find?
_Mar. jun_. Sar, there's nothing that touches me, nothing that is
coercive to my passions.
_Luck_. Fare you well, sir: may another play be coercive to your
passions.