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to Lady Charlotte: away with her—bring made your heels are a great help to your head-They moiselle away to me, that she may not be a wito relieve your wit, I see; and I don't question but ness-Come, good Mr Trusty. (Excunt. ere now they have been as kind to your valour

Ha! ha! ha! Enter Lord HARDY, leading HARRIOT, CAMP

Camp. Pox! I can say nothing, 'tis always thus LEY, and TRIM.

with your endeavours to be witty. (Aside.) I saw, L. Har. Why, then, I find this Mr Trim is a madam, your mouth go, but there could be noperfect general. But were not you saying, my thing offered in answer to what my lady Harriot Tord, you believed Lady Brumpton would follow said—'Twas home—'Twas cutting satirehither? If so, pray let me be gone

L. Har. Oh, Mr Campley ! But pray, madam, L. Hardy. No, madam; I must beseech your has Mr Cabinet visited your ladyship since this ladyship to stay; for there are things alleged

calamity -How stands that affair now? against her which you, who have lived in the fa Wid. Nay, madam, if you already want instrucmily, may, perhaps, give light into, and which I tions—I'll acquaint you how the world stands, cann't believe even she could be guilty of. if you are in distress, but I fear Mr Campley

L. Hur. Nay, my lord, that's generous to a overhears us. folly, for even for her usage of you (without re Camp. I swear, Lady Harriot, were I not algard to myself), I am ready to believe she would ready yours, I could have a tendre for this lady. do any thing that can come into the head of a Wid. Come, good folks, I find we are very close, malicious, cruel, designing woman.

free with each other-What makes you two

here? Do you board my lord, or he you? Come, Enter Boy.

come, ten shillings a-head will go a great way in Boy. My lady Brumpton's below

a family. -What do you say, Mrs Campley, L. Har. I'll run then

is it so? Does your ladyship go to market yourCamp. No, no, stand your ground; you're a self?–Nay, you are in the right of it-Come, soldier's wife Come, we'll rally her to death can you imagine what makes my lord stay? He

L. Hardy. Pr’ythee entertain her a little, while is not now with his land steward—not signing I go in for a moment's thought on this occasion. leases, I hope-Ha! ha! ha!

[Exit. Comp. Hang her, to have more tongue than a L. Har. She has more wit than us both

man and his wife too.

(Aside. Camp. Pshaw, no matter for that-Be sure,

Enter Lord HARDY. as soon as the sentence is out of my mouth, to clap in with something else—and laugh at all I L. Hardy. Because your ladyship is, I know, say: I'll be grateful, and burst myself at my in very much pain in company that you have inpretty witty wife-We'll fall in slap upon her jur’d, I'll be short -Open those doors; there She sha'n't have time to say a word of the running lies your husband's, my father's, body, and by away.

you stands the man accuses you of poisoning

him! Enter Lady BRUMPTON and Trusty.

Hid. Of poisoning him! O, my lady Brumpton, your ladyship’s most obe Trusty. The symptoms will appear upon

the dient servant. This is my lady Harriot Camp- corpse, ley - Why, madam, your ladyship is immedi L. Hardy. But I am seized by nature. How ately in your mourning-Nay, as you have more

shallI view a breathless lump of clay—bim, whose wit than any body, so (what seldom wits have) high veins conveyed to me this vital force and you have more prudence too-Other widows have motion. nothing in readiness but a second husband—but I cannot bear this sightyou, I see, had your very weeds and dress lying I am as fixʼd and motionless as he

(They open the coffin, out of which L. Har. Ay, madam : I see your ladyship is of

jumps Lady Charlotte. the order of widowhood, for you have put on the Art thou thė ghastly shape iny mind had form’d? habit

Art thou the cold inanimate-Bright maid ! Wid. I see your ladyship is not of the profes- | Thou giv’st new higher life to all around. sion of virginity, for you have lost the look whither does fancy, fir’d with love, convey me? on't

Why is my fair unmov’d-My heav'nly fair ; Camp. You're in the habit-That was so pret. Does she but smile at my exalted rapture? ty; nay, without flattery, Lady Harriot, you have L. Chur. Speak on, speak on, and charm my a great deal of wit, ha! ha! ha!

attentive ear: *L. Har. No, my lady Brumpton, here, is the How sweet applause is from an honest tongue ! woman of wit ; but indeed she has got but little Nor now with fond reluctance doubt to enter enough, considering how much her ladyship hias My spacious, bright abode, this gallant heart. to defend-Ha! ha! ha!

(Reclines on HARDY. Wid. I'm sorry, madam, your ladyship has not L. Har. Ay, marry, these are high doings in. what's sufficient for your occasions, or that this deed; the greatness of the occasion has burst pretty gentleman cann't supply them. (CAMPLEY their passion into speech-Why, Mr Campley, dancing about and trolling.) lley-day, I find, sir, / when we are near these fine folks, you and I are

by you

don us.

nay, then

but mere sweethearts— I protest, I'll never be won L. Brump. 'Tis so long since I have seen plays, so; you shall begin again with me.

good madam, that I know not whence thou dost Camp. Pr’ythee, why dost name us poor ani- repeat, nor can I answer. mals! They have forgot there are any such crea Wid. You can remember though a certain tures as their old acquaintance Tom and Harriot. settlement, in which I am thy son and heir, L. Hurdy. So we did indeed, but you'll par- great noble! that I suppose not taken from a

play, that's as irrevocable as law can make it. Camp. My lord, I never thought to see the Trusty. Value her not, my lord ; a prior obliminute wherein I should rejoice at your forget- gation made you incapable of settling on her, ting me, but now I do heartily. (Embracing your wife.

Wid. Sir, you're at the bottom of all thisena L. Brump. Thy kindness, Trusty, does distract I see your skill at close conveyances—I'll know thee-I would indeed disengage myself by any the meaning instantly of these intricacies ; 'tis honest means, but, alas, I know no prior gift that not your seeming honesty and gravity shall save avoids this to her. you from your deserts-My husband's death Trusty. Look you, madam, I'll come again imwas sudden-you and the burial fellow were ob-mediately—Be not troubled, my dear lordsserv'd very familiar—Produce my husband's body,

(Erit. or I'll try you for his murder; which I find you'd Camp. Trusty looks very confident, there is put on me, thou hellish engine !

some good in that. Trusty. Look you, madam, I could answer you, but I scorn to reproach people in misery-you're

Re-enter TRUSTY with CABINET. undone, madam

Cab. What! my lord Brumpton living ?Wid. What does the dotard mean? Produce the body, villain, or the law shall have thine for Trusty. Hold, sir, you must not stir, nor can it-[TRUSTY exit, hastily.) Do you design to let you, sir, retract this for

your hand-writing-My the villain escape? How justly did your father lord, this gentleman, since your supposed death, judge, that made you a beggar with that spirit- has lurked about the house to speak with my lady, You mentioned just now you could not bear the or Tattleaid, who, upon your decease, have shuncompany of those you'd injur'd.

ned him, in hopes, I suppose, to buy him off for 1. Hurdy. You are a woman, madam, and my ever-Now, as he was prying about, he peep'd father's widow, but sure you think you've high- into your closet where he saw your lordship ly injur'd me.

reading-struck with horror, and believing hin(Here my Lord und Trusty hulf enter and self (as well he might) the disturber of your ghost observe.

for alienation of your fortune from your family Wid. No, sir, I have not, will not injure you-he writ me this letter, wherein he acknow-I must obey the will of my deceased lord to a leuges a private marriage with this lady, half tittle-I must justly pay legacies, Your father, in year before you ever saw her. consideration that you were his blood, would not All. How! (ill lurn upon her disdainfully. wholly alienate you-he left you, sir, this shilling, Ilid. No more a widow then, but still a wife. with which estate you are now Earl of Brump

[Recovering from her confusiona

I am thy wife—thou author of my evil. L. Hardy. Insolent woman-It was not me Thou must partake with me an homely board, my good father disinherited, 'twas him you re An homely board that never shall be cheerful ; presented. The guilt was thine, he did an act But ev'ry ineal embitter'd with upbraidings, of justice.

Thou that couldst tell me, good and ill were

words, Enter Lord BRUMPTON with TRUSTY.

Thou that couldst basely let me to another, L. Brump. Oh, unparalleled goodness! Yet couldst see sprites, great unbeliever !

Trusty. Oh, Tattleaid—his and our hour is Coward ! bugg-bear'd penitentcome!

Stranger henceforth to all my joys, my joys. Wid. What do I see, my lord, my master, hus. To thy dishonour: despicable thing, band, living !

Dishonour thee! Thou voluntary cuckold! L. Brump. (Turning from her, running to his Thou disgrace to thy own sex, and the whole son.) Oh! my boy, my son -Mr Campley human race! Charlotte-Harriot-{All kneeling to him.] Oh, May scorn and beggary pursue thy name, my children, I shall cxpire in the too mighty And dark despair close up a life of shame. pleasure! my boy!

[CABINET sveuks off. Widow flings afL. Hardy. A son, an heir ! a bridegroom in

ter him, TATTLEAID following: one hour! Oh, grant me, Heaven, grant me mo L. Brump. I see you're all confused as well as deration !

I-Ye are iny children--I hold you all so. And Wid. A son, an heir ! Am I peglected then? | for your own use will speak plainly to you. I canWhat! can my lord revive, yet dead to me? not hate that woman : nor shall she ever want Only to me deceased-to ine alone,

Though I scorn to bear her injuries-
Deaf to my sighs, and senseless to my

?
I ne'er been roused from that low

passion

ton,

yet 1

moan

worthless creature-but by disdain of her attempt you to have always inclinations proper for the on my friend's child. I am glad that scorn's con- stage of life you are in. firmed by her being that fellow's-whom for my You who the path of honour make your guide, own sake I only will contemn. Thee, Trusty, Must let your passion with your blood subside; how shall we prosecute with equal praise and And no untim'd ambition, love, or rage, thanks, for this great revolution in our house !

Employ the moments of declining age; Trusty. Never to speak on’t more, my lord. Else boys will in your presence lose their fear,

L. Brump. Now, gentlemen, let the miseries And laugh at the grey head they should revere. which I have but miraculously escaped, admonish

(Exeunt omnes.

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Love, hope, and fear, desire, aversion, rage, The painted heroes on th' invaders press,
All that can move the soul, or can assuage, And think their wounds addition to their dress :
Are drawn in miniature of life, the stage. In younger years we've been with conquest blest,
Here you can view yourselves, and here is shown, And Paris has the British yoke confess'd;
To what you're born in suferings not your own. Is't then in England, in bless'd England known,

The stage to wisdom's no fantastic way, Her kings are nam'd from a revolted throne ? | Athens herself learn’d virtue at a play.

but we offend-You no examples need; Our author me to-night a soldier drew;

In imitation of yourselves proceed; But taintly writ, what warmly you pursue : 'Tis you your country's honour must secure; To his great purpose, had he equal fire,

Be all your actions worthy of Namur: He'd not aim to please only, but inspire ; With gentle fires your gallantry improve; He'd sing what hovering fate attends our isle, Courage is brutal, if untouch'd with love. And from base pleasure rouse to glorious toil. If soon our utmost bravery's not display'd, Full time the earth ta new decision brings, Think that bright circle must be captives made; While William gives the Ronan eagle wings ; Let thoughts of saving them our toils beguile, With arts and arnis sha! Britain tamely end, And they reward our labours with a smile. Which naked Picts so bravely could defena ;

THE

TENDER HUSBAND;

OR, THE

ACCOMPLISHED FOOLS.

BY

STEELE.

PROLOGUE.

BY MR ADDISON.

In

In the first rise and infancy of farce,
When fools were many, and when plays were

scarce,
The raw, unpractis'd authors could with ease
A young and unexperienc'd audience please :
No single character had e'er been shown,
But the whole herd of fops was all their own;
Rich in originals, they set to view,

every piece, a coxcomb that was new.

But now our British Theatres can boast Drolls of all kinds, a vast unthinking host ! Fruitful of folly and of vice, it shows Cuckolds, and cits, and bawds, and pimps, and

beaux ; Rough country knights are found of every shire, Of every fashion gentle fops appear; And punks of different characters we meet, As frequent on the stage as in the pit : Our modern wits are forc'd to pick and cull, And here and there by chance glean up a fool : Long ere they find the necessary spark, They search the town, and beat about the Park:

To all his most frequented haunts resort,
Ost dog him to the ring, and oft to court ;
As love of pleasure, or of place, invites :
And sometimes catch him taking snuffat White's.

Howe'er, to do you right, the present age
Breeds very hopeful monsters for the stage,
That scorn the paths their dull forefathers trod,
And won't be blockheads in the common road.
Do but survey this crowded house to-night :
- flere's still encouragement for those that write.

Our author, to divert his friends to-day,
Stocks with variety of fools his play ;
And that there may be something gay,

and

new, I'wo ladies errant has expos'd to view : The first a damsel, travell’d in romance; The t'other more refin'd ; she comes from

France: Rescue, like courteous knights, the nymph from

danger, And kindly treat, like well-bred men, the stranger.

A SONG.

Designed for the Fourth Act, but not set,

Did ever joyful mother see
So bright, so brave a progeny!
Daughters with so much beauty crown'd,
Or sons for valour so renown'd!

See, Britons, see with awful eyes,
Britannia from her seas arise!
“ Ten thousand billows round me roar

While winds and waves engage,
That break in froth upon my shore

And impotently rage.
Such were the terrors, which of late
Surrounded my afflicted state ;

United fury thus was bent
On my devoted seats,

'Till all the mighty force was spent In feeble swells and empty threats. “ But now with rising glory crown’d, My joys run high, they know no bound;

Tides of unruly pleasure flow Through every swelling vein,

New raptures in my bosom glow, And warm me up to youth again.

Passing pomps my streets adorn;

Captive spoils in triumph born. “Standards of Gauls, in fight subdued, Colours in hostile blood imbrued,

Ensigns of tyrannic might,

Foes to equity and right, In courts of British justice wave on high, Sacred to law and liberty. My crowded Theatres repeat, In songs of triumph, the defeat.

“But, Oh, I gaze and seek in vain
To find amidst this warlike train,
My absent sons, that us'd to grace
With decent pride this joyous place :
Unhappy youths! How do my sorrows rise,
Swell my breast and melt my eyes,

While I your mighty loss deplore.
Wild and raging with distress
I mourn, I mourn my own success,

And boast my victories no more.
Unhappy youths ! far from their native sky,
On Danube's banks interr'd they lie.
Germania, give me back my slain,
Give me my slaughter'd sons again.
Was it for this they rang'd so far,
To free thee from oppressive war !

Germania, &c.
“ Tears of sorrow while I shed,
O'er the manes of my dead,
Lasting altars let me raise
To my living heroes' praise;
Heaven give them a longer stay,
As glorious actions to display,
Or perish on as great a day.'

DRAMATIS PERSON.

MEN. Sir HARRY GUBBIN. HUMPHRY GUBBIN. Mr TIPKIN. CLERIMONT, Sen. Captain CLERIMONT. Mr Pouxca.

WOMEN.
Mrs CLERIMONT.
Aunt.
Niece,
FAINLOVE.
JENNY,

Maid to Mirs Cler imont.

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