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THE

MISER.

BY

HENRY FIELDING.

PROLOGUE.

WRITTEN BY A FRIEND.

Too long the slighted Comic Muse has mourn'd,
Her face quite alter'd and her art o'erturn'd;
That force of nature now no more she sees,
With which so well her Jonson knew to please;
No characters from nature now we trace;
All serve to empty books of common-place:
Our modern bards, who to assemblies stray,
Frequent the Park, the visit, or the play,
Regard not what fools do, but what wits say:
Just they retail each quibble to the town,
That surely must admire what is its own.
Thus, without characters from nature got,
Without a moral, or without a plot,

A dull collection of insipid jokes,
Some stole from conversation, some from books,
Provided lords and ladies give 'em vent,
We call high comedy, and seem content.
But, to regale with other sort of fare,
To-night the author treats you with Moliere;
Moliere! who Nature's inmost secrets knew,
Whose justest pen like Kneller's pencil drew;
In whose strong scenes all characters are shewn,
Not by low jests, but actions of their own.
Happy our English bard, if your applause
Grant he's not injured the French author's cause:
From that alone arises all his fear :-

He must be safe if he has saved Moliere.

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SCENE I.-LOVEGOLD'S House.

ACT I.

Enter LAPPET and RAMILIE. Lap. I'll hear no more. Perfidious fellow! Have I for thee slighted so many good matches; have I for thee turn'd off Sir Oliver's steward and my lord Landy's butler, and several others, thy betters, and all to be affronted in so public a manner?

Ram. Do but hear me, madam.

Lup. If thou wouldst have neglected me, was there nobody else to dance a minuet with but Mrs Susan Cross-stitch, whom you know to be my utter aversion?

Ram. Curse on all balls! Henceforth I shall hate the sound of a violin.

Lap. I have more reason, I am sure, after having been the jest of the whole company: What must they think of me, when they see you, after having countenanced your addresses in the eye of the world, take out another lady before me?

Ram. I'm sure the world must think worse of me, did they imagine, madam, I could prefer any other to you.

Lap. None of your wheedling, sir; that won't do. If ever you hope to speak to me more, let me see you affront the little minx in the next assembly you meet her.

Ram. I'll do it; and luckily, you know, we are to have a ball at my lord Landy's the first night he lies out of town, where I'll give your revenge ample satisfaction.

Lap. On that condition I pardon you this time; but if ever you do the like again

Ram. May I be banish'd for ever from those dear eyes, and be turn'd out of the family while you live in it.

Enter WHEEDLE.

Wheed. Dear Mrs Lappet!

Lap. My dear! this is extremely kind. Wheed. It is what all your acquaintance must do that expect to see you. It is in vain to hope for the favour of a visit.

Lup. Nay, dear creature! now you are barbarous. My young lady has staid at home so much, I have not had one moment to myself: The first time I had gone out, I am sure, madam, would have been to wait on Mrs Wheedle.

Wheed. My lady has staid at home too pretty much lately. Oh, Mr Ramilie! are you confin'd too? Your master does not stay at home, I am sure: He can find the way to our house, tho' you cann't.

Rom. That is the only happiness, madam, I envy him but, faith, I don't know how it is in this parliament time; one's whole days are so taken up in the Court of Requests, and one's even

ings at quadrille, the deuce take me if I have seen one opera since I came to town. Oh! now I mention operas, if you have a mind to see Cato, I believe I can steal my master's silver ticket; for I know he is engag'd to-morrow with some gentlemen, who never leave their bottle for music. Lap. Ah, the savages!

Wheed. No one can say that of you, Mr Ramilie; you prefer music to every thing

Ram. But the ladies. [Bell rings.] So, there's my summons.

Lap. Well, but shall we never have a party o quadrille more?

Wheed. Oh, don't name it! I have work'd my eyes out since I saw you; for my lady has taken a whim of flourishing all her old cambric pinners and handkerchiefs: in short, my dear! no jour neywoman sempstress is half so much a slave as I am.

Lap. Why do you stay with her?

Wheed. La, child! where can one better one's self? All the ladies of our acquaintance are just the same. Besides, there are some little things that make amends:-My lady has a noble train of admirers,

Ram. That, madam, is the only circumstance wherein she has the honour of resembling you [Bell rings louder.] You hear, madam, I am obliged to leave you-[Bell rings.] So, so, so: Would the bell were in your guts. [Exit RAMILIE.

Lap. Oh, Wheedle! I am quite sick of this family: the old gentleman grows more covetous every day he lives. Every thing is under lock and key: I can scarce ask you to eat or drink.

Wheed. Thank you, my dear! but I have drank half-a-dozen dishes of chocolate already this morning.

Lap. Well, but, my dear, I have a whole budget of news to tell you: I have made some nota ble discoveries.

Wheed. Pray let us hear 'em. I have some secrets of our family too, which you shall know by and by.-What a pleasure there is in having a friend to tell these things to!

Lap. You know, my dear, last summer my young lady had the misfortune to be overset in a boat between Richmond and Twickenham, and that a certain young gentleman, plunging imme diately into the water, sav'd her life, at the hazard of his own-Oh! I shall never forget the figure she made at her return home-so wet, so draggled!-Ha, ha, ha!

Wheed. Yes, my dear! I know how all your fine ladies look when they are never so little disordered-they have no need to be so vain of themselves.

Lap. You are no stranger to my master's way of rewarding people :-When the poor gentleman

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brought miss home, my master meets 'em at the door, and, without asking any question, very civilly shuts it against him. Well, for a whole fortnight afterwards, I was continually entertained with the young spark's bravery, and gallantry, and generosity, and beauty.

Wheed. I can easily guess: I suppose she was rather warmed than cooled by the water. These mistresses of ours, for all their pride, are made of just the same flesh and blood as we are.

choly, it is that I have it not in my power to make you as happy as I would.

Cier. Thou art too bounteous: Every tender word from those dear lips lays obligations on me 1 never can repay: but if to love, to dote on you more than life itself; to watch your eyes, that I may obey your wishes before you speak them, can discharge me from any part of that vast debt I owe you, I will be punctual in the payment.

Har. It were ungenerous in me to doubt you; and when I think what you have done for me, believe me I must think the balance on your side.

Lup. About a month ago, my young lady goes to the play in an undress, and takes me with her. We sat in Burton's box, where, as the devil would Cler. Generous creature' and dost thou not have it, whom should we meet with but this very for me hazard the eternal anger of your father, gentleman! Her blushes soon discovered to me the reproaches of your family, the censures of the who he was. In short, the gentleman entertained world, who always blame the conduct of the perher the whole play; and I much mistake if ever son who sacrifices interest to any consideration? she was so agreeably entertained in her life. Well, Har. As for the censures of the world, I desas we were going out, a rude fellow thrusts his pise them, while I do not deserve them: Folly is hand into my lady's bosom, upon which her cham-forwarder to censure wisdom than wisdom folly. pion fell upon him, and did so maul him——My lady fainted away in my arms; but as soon as she came to herself-had you seen how she looked on him! Ah, sir! says she, in a mighty pretty tone, sure you were born for my deliverance! He handed her into a hackney-coach, and set us down at home. From this moment letters began to fly on both sides.

Wheed. And you took care to see the post paid, I hope.

Lap. Never fear that.-And now, what do you think we have contrived amongst us? We have got this very gentleman into the house, in the quality of my master's clerk.

Wheed. Soh! here's fine billing and cooing I warrant: Miss is in a fine condition.

Lap. Her condition is pretty much as it was yet; how long it will continue so, I know not. I am making up my matters as fast as I can, for this house holds not me after the discovery.

Wheed. I think you have no great reason to lament the loss of a place where the master keeps his own keys.

Lap. The devil take the first inventor of locks, say I. But come, my. dear! there is one key which I keep, and that I believe will furnish us with sweet-meats; so if you will walk in with me, I'll tell you a secret which concerns your family. It is in your power, perhaps, to be serviceable to me. I hope, my dear, you will keep these seerets safe; for one would not have it known that one publishes all the affairs of a family while one stays in it. [Exeunt.

SCENE II-A Garden.

Enter CLERIMONT and HARRIET. Cler. Why are you melancholy, my dear Harriet? Do you repent that promise of yours, which has made me the happiest of mankind?

I were weak indeed, not to embrace real happi-
ness, because the world does not call it so.
Cler. But see, my dearest! your brother is
come into the garden.

Har. Is it not safe, think you, to let him into our secret?

Cler. You know, by outwardly humouring your father, in railing against the extravagance of young men, I have brought him to look on me as his enemy: it will be first proper to set him right in that point. Besides, in managing the old gentleman I shall still be obliged to a behaviour which the impatience of his temper may not, bear, therefore I think it not adviseable to trust him, at least yet.He will observe us. Adieu, my heart's only joy!

I

[Exit.

Har. Honest creature! What happiness may propose in a life with such a husband? What is there in grandeur to recompence the loss of him? Parents choose as often ill for us as we do for ourselves: they are too apt to forget how seldom true happiness lives in a palace, or rides in a coach and six.

Enter FREDERICK.

Fred. Dear Harriet! good morrow: I am glad to find you alone, for I have an affair to impart to you that I am ready to burst with.

Har. You know, brother, I am a trusty confidant.

Fred. As ever wore petticoats; but this is an affair of such consequence

Hur. Or it were not worth your telling me. Fred. Or your telling again. In short, you never could discover it; I could afford you ten years to guess it in. I am-you will laugh im moderately when you know it-1 am-it is im possible to tell you:-In a word-I am in love! Har. In love!

Fred. Violently-to distraction; so much in love, that without more hopes than I at present see any possibility of obtaining, I cannot live

Har. You little know my heart, if you can think it capable of repenting any thing I have done towards your happiness. If I am melan-three days.

VOL. IV.

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Hur. And has this violent distemper, pray, come upon you of a sudden?

Fred. No, I have bred it a long time: it hath been growing these several weeks: I stifled it as long as I could, but it is now come to a crisis, and I must either have the woman, or you will have no brother.

Har. But who is this woman? for you have conceal'd it so well that I cann't even guess. Fred. In the first place, she is a most intolerable coquette.

Har. That is a description I shall never find her out by, there are so many of her sisters: you might as well tell me the colour of her complexion. Fred. Secondly, she is almost eternally at cards. Har. You must come to particulars: I shall never discover your mistress till you tell me more than that she is a woman, and lives in this town. Fred. Her fortune is very small.

Har. I find you are enumerating her charms. Fred. Oh! I have only shewn you the reverse; but were you to behold the medal on the right side, you would see beauty, wit, genteelness, politeness-in a word, you would see Mariana.

Hur. Mariana! Ha, ha, ha! you have started a wild-goose chase indeed. But if you could ever prevail on her, you may depend on it it is an arrant impossibility to prevail on my father; and you may easily imagine what success a disinherited son may be likely to expect with a woman of her temper.

Fred. I know 'tis difficult, but nothing's impossible to love, at least, nothing's impossible to woman; and therefore if you and the ingenious Mrs Lappet will but lay your heads together in my favour, I shall be far from despairing; and in return, sister, for this kindness

Har. And in return, brother, for this kindness, you may perhaps have it in your power to do me a favour of pretty much the same nature.

Love. [Without.] Rogue! villain!

Har. So what's the matter now? what can have thrown my father into this passion?

Fred. The loss of an old slipper, I suppose, or something of equal consequence. Let us step aside into the next walk, and talk more of our affairs. [Exeunt.

Enter LOVEGOLD and RAMILIE. Love. Answer me not, sirrah, but get you out of my house.

Ram. Sir, I am your son's servant, and not yours, sir; and I won't go out of the house, sir, unless I am turn'd out by my proper master, sir.

Love. Sirrah, I'll turn your master out after you, like an extravagant rascal as he is: he has no need of a servant while he is in my house; and here he dresses out a fellow at more expence than a prudent man might clothe a large family at. It's plain enough what use he keeps you for; but I will have no spy upon my affairs, no rascal continually prying into all my actions, devouring all I have, and hunting about in every corner, to see what he may steal.

Ram. Steal! a likely thing indeed, to steal from a man who locks up every thing he has, and stands sentry upon it day and night!

Love. I'm all over in a sweat lest this fellow should suspect something of my money. [Aside.] Hark'e, rascal, come hither: I would advise you not to run about the town, and tell every one you meet that I have money hid.

Ram. Why, have you any money hid, sir? Love. No, sirrah, I don't say I have; but you may raise such a report nevertheless.

Ram. 'Tis equal to me whether you have money hid or no, since I cannot find it. Love. D'ye mutter, sirrah? Get you out of my house, I say, get you out this instant. Ram. Well, sir, I am going.

Love. Come back: let me desire you to carry nothing away with you.

Ram. What should I carry?

Love. That's what I would see. These bootsleeves were certainly intended to be the receivers of stolen goods, and I wish the tailor had been hang'd who invented them. Turn your pockets inside out if you please; but you are too practised a rogue to put any thing there. These damn'd bags have had many a good thing in them, I warrant you.

Ram. Give me my bag, sir: I am in the most danger of being robbed.

Love. Come, come, be honest, and return what thou hast taken from me.

Ram. Ay, sir, that I could do with all my heart, for I have taken nothing from you but some boxes on the car.

Love. And hast thou really stolen nothing? Ram. No, really, sir.

Love. Then get out of my house while 'tis all well, and go to the devil.

Ram. Ay, any where from such an old covetous curmudgeon. [Exit. Love. So, there's one plague gone. Now I will go pay a visit to the dear casket.

Enter FREDERICK and HARriet. In short, I must find some safer place to deposit those three thousand guineas in, which I received yesterday: three thousand guineas are a sum Oh, Heavens! I have betray'd myself! my passion has transported me to talk aloud, and I have been overheard.-How now! what's the matter?

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guineas by one. I tell you this that you might not misunderstand me, and imagine that I said I had three thousand guineas.

Fred. We enter not into your affairs, sir. Love. Ah, would I had those three thousand guineas!

Fred. In my opinion

Love. It would make my affairs extremely easy. Fred. Then it is very easily in your power to raise 'em, sir: that the whole world knows.

Love. I raise 'em! I raise three thousand guineas easily! My children are my greatest enemies, and will, by their way of talking, and by the extravagant expences they run into, be the occasion that, one of these days, somebody will cut my throat, imagining me to be made up of nothing but guineas.

Fred. What expence, sir, do I run into?

Love. How have you the assurance to ask me that, sir, when, if one was but to pick those fine feathers of yours off from head to foot, one might purchase a very comfortable annuity out of them? A fellow here with a very good fortune upon his back wonders that he is call'd extravagant! In short, sir, you must rob me to appear in this manner.

Fred. How sir! rob you?

Love. Ay, rob me, or how could you support this extravagance?

Fred. Alas, sir! there are fifty young fellows of my acquaintance that support greater extravagancies, and no one knows how. Ah, sir! there are ten thousand pretty ways of living in this town without robbing one's father.

Love. What necessity is there for all that lace on your coat? and all bought at the first hand too, I warrant you. If you will be fine, is there not such a place as Monmouth Street in this town, where a man may buy a suit for the third part of the sum which his tailor demands? And then periwigs! What need has a man of periwigs, when he may wear his own hair? I dare swear a good periwig cann't cost less than fifteen or twenty shillings.Hey-day! what, are they making signs to one another which shall pick my pocket?

Har. My brother and I, sir, are disputing which shall speak to you first, for we have both an affair of consequence to mention to you.

Love. And I have an affair of consequence to mention to you both. Pray, sir, you who are a fine gentleman, and converse much amongst the ladies, what think you of a certain young lady called Mariana?

Fred. Mariana, sir!

Love. Ay, what do you think of her?
Fred. Think of her, sir!

Love. Why do you repeat my words?—Ay, what do you think of her?

Fred. Why, I think her the most charming woman in the world.

Love. Would she not be a desirable match? Fred. So desirable, that, in my opinion, her husband will be the happiest of mankind.

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Love. There is one thing I'm a little afraid of, that is, that she has not quite as much fortune as one might fairly expect.

Fred. Oh, sir! consider but her merit, and you may easily make an abatement in her fortune. For Heaven's sake, sir, don't let that prevent your design. Fortune is nothing in comparison with her beauty and merit.

Love. Pardon me there; however, there may be some matters found, perhaps, to make up some little deficiency; and if you would, to oblige your father, retrench your extravagancies on this occasion, perhaps the difference in some time might be made up.

Fred. My dearest father! I'll bid adicu to all extravagance for ever.

Love. Thou art a dutiful good boy; and since I find you have the same sentiments with me, provided she can but make out a pretty tolerable fortune, I am even resolved to marry her.

Fred. Ha! You resolved to marry Mariana?
Love. Ay, to marry Mariana.
Har. Who? you, you, you!
Love. Yes, I, I, I.

Fred. I beg you will pardon me, sir: a sudden dizziness has seized me, and I must beg leave to retire. [Exit FRED.

Love. This, daughter, is what I have resolved for myself: as for your brother, I have a certain widow in my eye for him; and you, my dear! shall marry our good neighbour Mr Spindle. Har. I marry Mr Spindle.

Love. Yes; he is a prudent, wise man, not much above fifty, and has a great fortune in the funds. Har. I thank you, my dear papa! but I had rather not marry, if you please. [Courtesying. Love. [Mimicking her courtesy.] I thank you, my good daughter! but I had rather you should marry him, if you please.

Har. Pardon me, dear sir!
Love. Pardon me, dear madam !

Har. Not all the fathers upon earth shall force me to it.

Love. Did ever mortal hear a girl talk in this manner to her father!

Hur. Did ever father attempt to marry his daughter after such a manner! In short, sir, I have ever been obedient to you; but as this affair concerns my happiness only, and not yours, I hope you will give me leave to consult my own inclination.

Love. I would not have you provoke me: I am resolved upon the match.

Enter CLERIMONT.

Cler. Some people, sir, upon justice business, desire to speak with your worship.

Love. I can attend to no business, this girl has

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