depend upon it, I shall be a litel en cavalier vit you. Es. Pray, sir, of what rank and quality are you? French. Sir, I am a marquis François; j'entens les beaux arts, sir, I have been en advanturier all over the varld, and am a present en Angleterre, in Inglande, vere I am more honoré and caress den ever I was in my own countrie, or inteed any vere else—— Es. And pray, sir, what is your business in England? owes money, should make the same demand, we should have no water left for our other cus tomers. French. Que voulez vou que je fasse donc ? Vat must I do then, sir? Es. Marry the lady as soon as you can, pay your debts with part of her portion, drink the water to forget your extravagance, retire with her to your own country, and be a better economist for the future. French. Go to my own countré !——Je vous French. I am arrive dere, sir, pour polir la nation-de Inglis, sir, have too much a lead in deir heels, and too much a tought in deir head; French. Entre nous, I had much rather pass so sir, if I can ligten bote, I shall make dem for one French marquis in Inglande, keep tout a fait François, and quite anoder ting. bonne compagnie, manger des delicatesses, and Es. And pray, sir, in what particular accom-do no ting at all; dan keep a shop en Provence, plishments does your merit consist? couper and friser les cheveux, and live upon soup and sallade de rest of my life Es. I cannot blame you for your choice; and if other people are so blind, not to distinguish the barber from the fine gentleman, their folly must be their punishment—and you shall take the benefit of the water with them. French. Sir, I speak de French, j'ai bonne addresse, I dance un minuet, I sing des littel chansons, and I have-une tolerable assurance: en fia, sir, my merit consist in one vard-I am a foreignere and entre nous-vile de Englis be so great a fool to love de foreignere better dan demselves, de foreignere vould still be more French. Monsieur Esop, sans flatterie ou great a fool, did dey not leave their own coun- compliments, I am your very humble serviteur terie, vere dey have nothing at all, and come-Jean Frisseron en Provence, ou Le Marquis to Inglande, vere dey vant for nothing at all, de Pouville en Angleterre. [Exit Frenchman. pardie- Cela n'est il pas vrai, Monsieur Es. Shield me and defend ime! another fine Æsop? Es. Well, sir, what is your business with me? French. Attendez un peu, you shall hear, sir -I am in love vit de grande fortune of one Englis lady; and de lady, she be in love with my qualité and bagatelles. Now, sir, me vant twenty or tirty douzains of your vaters, for fear I be obligé to leave Inglande, before I have fini dis grande affaire. Es Twenty or thirty dozen! for what? French. For my crediteurs; to make them forget de vay to my lodgement, and no trouble me for de future. Es. What, have you so many creditors! French. So many! begar I have them dans tous les quartiers de la ville, in all parts of de town, fait Es. Wonderful and surprising! French. Vonderful! vat is vonderful-dat I should borrow money? Es. No, sir, that any body should lend it lady! Enter MRS. RIOT. Mrs. Riot. A monster! a filthy brute! your watermen are as unpolite upon the Styx as upon the Thames-Stow a lady of fashion with tradesmen's wives and mechanics-Ah! what's this! Serbeerus or Plutus? [Seeing Æsop.] Am I to be frighted with all the monsters of this internal world! Es. What is the matter, lady? Mrs. Riot. Every thing is the matter, my spirits are uncomposed, and every circumstance about me in a perfect dilemma. Es. What has disordered you thus? Mrs. Riot. Your filthy boatman, Scarroon, there. Es. Charon, lady, you mean. Mrs. Riot. And who are you, you ugly creature, you? If I see any more of you I shall die with temerity. Es. The wise think me handsome, madam. you? Es. I am Æsop, madam, honoured this day by Proserpine with the distribution of the waters of Lethe. Command me. Mrs. Riot. Shew me to the pump room then, fellow-where's the company?I die in solitude. Æs. What company? Mrs. Riot. The best company, people of fashion! the beau monde! shew me to none of your gloomy souls, who wander about in your groves and streams;-shew me to glittering balls, enchanting masquerades, ravishing operas, and all the polite enjoyments of Elysian. um 137 Es. And you all night, madam:-Is it not so? Es. This is a language unknown to me, Mrs. Riot. I keep the best company, sir; lady- -no such fine doings here, and very lit-and day-light is no agreeable sight to a polite the good company (as you call it) in Elysi- assembly; the sun is very well and comfortable, to be sure, for the lower part of the creation; but to ladies who have a true taste of pleasure, wax candles, or no candles, are preferable to all the sun-beams in the universeEs. Preposterous fancy! Mrs. Riot. What! no operas! eh! no Elysian then! [Sings fantastically in Italian.] 'Sfortunato monticelli! banished Elysian, as well as the Haymarket! Your taste here, I suppose, rises no higher than your Shakspeares and your Johnsons; oh, you Goats and Vandils! in the name of barbarity take them to yourselves, we are tired of them upon earth-one goes indeed to a playhouse sometimes, because one does not know how else one can kill one's time -every body goes, because-because--all the world's there but for my part-call Scurroon, and let him take me back again, I'll stay no longer here stupid immortals." Mrs. Riot. And so, most delicate, sweet sir, you don't approve my scheme; ha! ha! ha! oh, you ugly devil you! have you the vanity to imagine, people of fashion will mind what you say? Or, that to learn politeness and breeding, it is necessary to take a lesson of morality out of Æsop's fables, ha! ha! ba! somewhere; when these spirits leave you, and Es. It is necessary to get a little reflection your senses are surfeited, what must be the con Es. You are a happy woman, that have nei-sequence? ther cares nor follies to disturb you. Mrs. Riot. Cares! ha! ha! ha! Nay, now I must laugh in your ugly face, my dear; what cares, does your wisdom think, can enter into the circle of a fine lady's enjoyments? Es. By the account I have just heard of a fine lady's life, her very pleasures are both follies and cares; so drink the water and forget them, madam. Mrs. Riot. Oh gad! that was so like my husband, now-▬▬▬ forget my follies! forget the fashion! forget my being, the very quincettence and emptity of a fine lady! the fellow would make me as great a brute as my husband. Es. You have a husband, then, madam? Mrs. Riot. Yes, I think so a husband and no husband- -come, fetch me some of your water; if I must forget something, I had as good forget him, for he's grown insufferable o'late. Es. I thought, madam, you had nothing to complain of Mrs. Riot. One's husband, you know, is almost next to nothing. Es. How has he offended you? -Won't re Mrs. Riot. The man talks of nothing but his money, and my extravagancemove out of the filthy city, though he knows I die for the other end of the town, nor leave off his nasty merchandizing, though I've laboured to convince him, he loses money by it. The man was once tolerable enough, and let me have money when I wanted it; but now he's never out of a tavern, and is grown so valiant, that, do you know-he has presumed to contradict me, and refuse me money upon every occasion. Æs. And all this without any provocation on your side? Mrs Riot. Laud! how should I provoke him? I seldom see him, very seldom speak to the creature, unless I want money, besides, he's out all day the world for the vapours; and lest the poiMrs. Riot. Oh, I have the best receipt in son of your precepts should taint my vivacity, I must beg leave to take it now, by way of -ignorance and va unecdote. Es. Oh, by all means nity! Mrs. Riot. [Drawing out a card.] Lady Rantan's compliments to Mrs. Riot. SONG. The card invites, in crowds we fly, What joy, from cares and plagues all day, Nor want, nor pain, nor grief, nor care, The brisk, the bold, the young, and Till day-light peeps, we sport and play, To-morrow's welcome call obey, Mrs. Riot. There's a life for you, you old fright! so trouble your head no more about your betters; I am so perfectly satisfied with myself, that I will not after an atom of me, for all you can say; so you may bottle up your philosophical waters for your own use, or for the fools that want them.-Gad's my life! there's Billy Butterfly in the grove, I must go to himwe shall so rally your wisdom between us-ha! ha! ha! ha! D. Mun. Sir! don't stare so, old gentleman; let us have a little conversation with you. Es. I would know if you have any thing oppresses your mind, and makes you unhappy. D. Man. You are certainly a very great fool, old gentleman; did you ever know a man drunk and unhappy at the same time? Es. Never otherwise, for a man who has lost his senses D. Man. Has lost the most troublesome companions in the world, next to wives and bumbailiffs. Es. But, pray, what is your business with me? D. Man. Only to demonstrate to you that you are an ass Es. Your humble servant. D. Man. Well, well, if it is monstrous, I say no more; if her majesty and retinue are so very virtuous, I say no more; but I'll tell you what, old friend, if you'll lend me your wife for half an hour; when you make a visit above, you shall have mine as long as you please; and if upon trial, you should like mine better than your own, you shall carry her away to the devil with you, and ten thousand thanks into the bargain. Æs. This is not to be borne; either be silent, or you'll repent this drunken insolence. D. Man. What a cross old fool it is!-I presume, sir, from the information of your hump, and your wisdom, that your name is-is-what the devil is it? Es. Æsop, at your service. D. Man. The same, the same-I knew you well enough, you old sensible pimp you—many a time has my flesh felt birch upon your account; pr'ythee, what possessed thee to write such foolish old stories of a cock and a bull, and I don't know what, to plague poor innocent lads with? It was damned cruel in you, let me tell you that. Es. I am now convinced, sir, I have written them to very little purpose. D. Man. To very little, I assure you but never mind it-Damn it, you are a fine old Grecian, for all that-[Claps him on the back.] Come here, Snip is not he a fine old Grecian? And though he is not the handsomest, or best dressed man in the world, he has ten times more sense than either you or I have. Tai. Pray, neighbour introduce me. D. Man. I'll do it--Mr. Asop, this sneaking gentleman is my tailor, and an honest man he was, while he loved his bottle; but since he turned methodist, and took to preaching, he has cabbaged one yard in six from all his customers. Now you know him, hear what he has to say, while I go and pick up in the wood here. Upon my soul, you are a fine old Grecian ! [Exit Drunken Man. Es. [To Tailor.] Come, friend, don't be dejected; what is your business? D. Man. And to shew you, that whilst I can get such liquor as I have been drinking all night, I shall never come for your water specifics against care and tribulation; however old gen-in tleman, if you'll do one thing for me, I shan't think my time and conversation thrown away Tai. I am troubled in mind. Tai. No, indeed, I believe it is pretty general our parish. Es. What is it? speak out, friend. Tai. It runs continually in my head, that I Es. What? Tai. A cuckold. Æs. Have a care, friend? jealousy is a rank weed, and chiefly takes root in a barren soil. Tai. I am sure my head is full of nothing else misfortune? Has not your wife as much wit as you? Tai. A great deal more, sir; and that is one reason for my believing myself dishonoured Es. Though your reason has some weight in it, yet it does not amount to a conviction. Tai I have more to say for myself, if your worship will but hear me. Es. I shall attend to you. Tai. My wife has such very high blood in her, that she has lately turned papist, and is always railing at me and the government. The priest and she are continually laying their heads together, and I am afraid he has persuaded her, that it will save her precious soul, if she cuckolds a heretic tailor. Es. Oh, don't think so hardly of them. Tai. Lord, sir, you don't know what tricks are going forward above! Religion indeed is the outside stuff, but wickedness is the lining. Es. Why, you are in a passion, friend; if you would but exert yourself thus at a proper time, you might keep the fox from your poultry. Tai. Lord, sir, my wife has as much passion again as I have; and whenever she's up, I curb my temper, sit down, and say nothing. Es. What remedy have you to propose for this misfortune? Tai. I would propose to dip my head in the river, to wash away my fancies; and if you'll let me take a few bottles to my wife, if the water is of a cooling nature, I may perhaps be easy that way; but I shall do as your worship pleases. Es. I am afraid this method won't answer, friend: suppose therefore you drink to forget your suspicions, for they are nothing more; and let your wife drink to forget your uneasiness-a mutual confidence will succeed, and consequently mutual happiness. Tai. I have such a spirit, I can never bear to be dishonoured in my bed. Char. There are some ladies who have been disputing so long and so loud about taking place and precedency, that they have set their relations a tilting at one another, to support their vanity: the standers-by are some of them so frightened, and some of them so diverted at the quarrel, that they have not time to think of their misfortunes; so I e'en left them to settle their prerogatives by themselves, and be friends at their leisure. Mer. What's to be done, Æsop? Es. Discharge these we have, and finish the business of the day. Enter Drunken Man and MRS. RIOT. D. Man. I never went to pick up a whore in my life, but the first woman I laid hold of was my dear virtuous wife, and here she is Es. Is that lady your wife? D. Man. Yes, sir; and yours, if you please to accept her. Es. Though she has formerly given too much into fashionable follies, she now repents, and will be more prudent for the future. D. Man. Look'e, Mr. Asop, all your preaching and morality signifies nothing at all; but since your wisdom seems bent upon our reformation, I'll tell you the only way, old boy, to bring it about. Let me have enough of your water to settle my head; and throw madam into the river. Æs. 'Tis in vain to reason with such beings: therefore, Mercury, summon the mortals from the grove, and we'll dismiss them to earth, as happy as Lethe can make them——— SONG. BY MERCURY. Come mortals, come, come follow me, Es. The water will cool your spirit, and if it can but lower your wife's, the business is done-Hark! hark! the call, come, come and drink, Go for a moment to your companion, and you shall drink presently; but do nothing rashly. Tai. I can't help it, rashness is my fault, sir; but age and more experience, I hope, will cure me-your servant, sir-Indeed he is a fine old Grecian! [Exit Tailor. Es. Poor fellow, I pity him. Enter MERCURY. And leave your cares by Lethe's brink. CHORUS. Away then come, come, come away, To Lethe's brink then follow all, CHORUS. Away then come, come, come away, Nor jealous fears, nor strife, nor pain, [During the song, the characters enter Es. Now, mortals, attend; I have perceived, from your examinations, that you have mistaken the effects of your distempers for the cause; you would willingly be relieved from many things which interfere with your passions and affections; while your vices, from which all your cares and misfortunes arise, Then are totally forgotten and neglected. follow me, and drink to the forgetfulness of vice—— 'Tis vice alone disturbs the human breast; Care dies with guilt-be virtuous, and be blest. |