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depend upon it, I shall be a litel en cavalier owes money, should make the same demand,
we should have no water left for our other cusÆs. Pray, sir, of what rank and quality are you?
French. Que voulez vou que je fasse donc? French. Sir, I am a marquis François; j'en- Vat must I do then, sir? tens les beaux arts, sir, I have been en advan Æs. Marry the lady as soon as you can, pay turier all over the varld, and am a present en your debts with part of her portioi), drink the Angleterre, in Inglande, vere I am more honoré water to forget your extravagance, retire with and caress den ever I was in my own countrie, her to your own country, and be a better ecoor inteed any vere else
nomist for the future. Æs. And pray, sir, what is your business in French, Go to my own countré !--Je vous England ?
derande pardon, I had much rather stay vere French. I am arrive dere, sir, pour polir la I am;: -I cannot go dere, upon my vard nation—de Inglis, sir, have too much a lead in Æs. Why not, my friend? deir heels, and too much a to:ight 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
Æs. And pray, sir, in what particular accom- do no ting at all; dan keep a shop en Provence, plisliinents does your merit consist ?
couper and friser les cheveux, and live upon French. Sir, I speak de French, j'ai bonne soup and sallade de rest of my life addresse, I dance un minuet, I sing des littel Es. I cannot blame you for your choice; and chansons, and I have—une tolerable assurance: if other people are so blind, not to distinguish en fin, sir, my merit consist in one vard—I am the barber from the fine gentleman, their tolly a foreignere-and entre nous-vile de Englis be must be their punishment and you shall take so great a fool to love de foreignere better dan the benefit of the water with them. demselves, de foreignere vould still be more French. Monsieur Æsop, sans flatterie ou great a fool, did dey not leave their own coun- compliments, I am your very humble serviteur terie, verc 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. [Erit Frenchmon. pardie Cela n'est il pas vrai, Monsieur Æs. Shield me and defend me! another fine Æsop?
lady! Æs. Well, sir, what is your business with me? French. Attendez un peu, you shall hear, sir
Enter Mrs. Riot. I am in love rit de grande fortune of one Mrs. Riot. A monster! a filthy brute! your Englis lady; and de lady, she be in love with watermen are as unpolite upon the Styx as upon niy qualité and bagatelles. Now, sir, me vant the Thames-Stow a lady of fashion with tradestwenty or tirty douzains of your vaters, for fear men's wives and mechanics---Ah! what's I be obligé to leave Inglande, before I have finithis! Serbeerus or Plutus ? (Seeing Æsop.] Am dis grande affaire.
I to be frighted with all the monsters of this inÆs Twenty or thirty dozen ! for what? ternal world!
French. For my crediteurs ; to make them Æs. What is the matter, lady? forget de vay to my lodgement, and no trouble Mrs. Riot. Every thing is the matter, my me for de future.
spirits are uncomposed, and every circumstance Æs. What, have you so many creditors! about me in a perfect dilemma. French. So many! begar I have them dans Æs. What has disordered you
thus? tous les quartiers de la ville, in all parts of de Mrs. Riot, Your filthy boatman, Scarroon,
there. Æs. Wonderful and surprising!
Æs. Charon, lady, you mean. French. Vonderful! vat is vonderful -dat Mrs. Riot. And who are you, you ugly creaI should borrow money?
ture, you? If I see any more of you I shall die Æs. No, sir, that any body should lend it with temerity. you
Æs. The wise think me handsome, madam. French. En verité vous vous trompez; you do Mrs. Riot. I hate the wise. But who are mistake it, mon ami: if fortunc give me no mo- you? ney, nature gives me des talens; j'ai des talens, Æs. I am Æsop, madam, honoured this day Monsieur Æsop; vech arc de same ting -par by Proserpine with the distribution of the waters example; de Englisman have de money, I have of Lethe.“ Command me. de flatterie and bonne addresse; and a little of Mrs. Riot. Shew me to the pump room then, dat from a French tongue is very good credit fellow-where's the company?- die in so and securité for tousand pound-Eh bien donc! litude. sal I bave dis (wenty or tirty douzaines of your Æs. What company? vater? Ouy, ou non?
Mrs. Riot. The best company, people of faÆs. 'Tis impossible, sir.
shion! the beau monde ! shew me to none of French. Impossible! pourquoi donc ? vy not? your gloomy souls, who wander about in your Æs. Because, if every fine gentleman, who' groves and streams ;--shew me to glittering balls,
enchanting masquerades, ravishing operas, and Æs. And you all night, madam :-Is it not all the polite enjoyments of Elysian.
Æs. 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- assembịy; the sun is very well and comfort
able, to be sure, for the lower part of the creaMrs. Riot. What! no operas! eh! no Ely- tion; but to ladies who have a true taste of siun then! (Sings fantastically in Italiun.] pleasure, wax candles, or no candles, are pre'Siertunato monticeili! banished Elysiun, as ferable to all the sun-beams in the universewell as the Haymarket! Your taste here, I sup Es. Preposterous fancy! pose, rises no higher than your Shakspeares and N1rs. Riot. And so, most delicate, sweet sir, your Johnsons; oh, you Goats and Vandils ! you don't approve ny scheme; ha! ha! ha! in the name of barbarity take them to yourselves, oh, you ugly devil you! have you the vanity to we are tired of them upon earth-one goes in- invagine, people of fashion will mind what you deed to a playhouse sometimes, because one say? Or, that to learn politeness and breeding, does not know how else one can bill one's time it is necessary to take a lesson of morality out --every body goes, because—because--all the of A.sop's fables, ha! ha! ha! world's there--but for my part-call Seurroon, Æs. It is necessary to get a little reflection and let him take me back again, I'll stay no somewhere; when these spirits leave you, and longer here-stupid immortals.
your senses are surfeited, what must be the conÆs. You are a happy woman, that have nei
sequence? ther cares nor follies to disturb vou.
Mrs. Riot. Oh, I have the best receipt in Mrs. Riot. Cares! ha! ha! ha! Nay, now the world for the vapours; and lest the poiI must laugh in your ugly face, my dear; son of your precepts should taint my vivacity, wbat cares, does your wisdom think, can en- I must beg leave to take it now, by way of ter into the circle of a fine lady's enjoyments? | anecdote.
Æs. By the account I have just heard of a fine is. Oh, by all means -ignorance and valady's life, her very pleasures are both follies nity! and cares; so drink the water and forget them, Mrs. Riot. [Drawing out a card.] Lady Ranmadam.
tan's compliments to Mrs. Riot. Mrs. Riot. Ob gad! that was so like my husband,
-forget my follies! forget the fashion! forget my being, the very quincet
SONG. tence and emptity of a tine lady! 'the fellow would make me as great a brute as my hus The card invites, in crowds we fly, band.
To join the jovial rout, full cry; Æs. You have a husband, then, madam?
What joy, from cares and plagues all day, Mrs. Riot. Yes, I think som -a husband
To hie to the midnight hark-uwuy. aod no husband -come, fetch me some of your water; if I must forget something, I had Nor want, nor pain, nor grief, nor care, as good forget him, for he's grown insufferable Nor dronish husbands enter there; o'late.
The brisk, the bold, the young, and
gay, Æs. I thought, madam, you had nothing to All hie to the midnight hark-away. complain of Mrs. Riot. One's husband, you know, is al
Uncounted strikes the morning clock, most next to nothing.
And drowsy watchmen idly knock; Æs. How has he offended you?
Till day-light peeps, we sport and play, Mrs. Riot. The man talks of nothing but
And roar to the jolly hurk-away. his money, and my extravagance
When tir'd with sport, to bed we creep, move out of the filthy city, though he knows I die for the other end of the town, nor leave
And kill the tedious day with sleep ;
To-morrow's welcoine call obey, off his nasty merchandizing, though I've la
And again to the midnight hark away. boured 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
Mrs. Riot. There's a life for you, you old he's never out of a tavern, and is grown so va- fright! so trouble your head no more about liant, that, do you know-he has presumed to your betters; I am so perfectly satisfied with contradict me, and refuse me money upon every myself, that I will not after an atom of me, for occasion.
ali you can say; so you may bottle up your Æs. And all this without any provocation on philosophical waters for your own use, or for the Four side?
fools that want them.---Gad's my life! there's Mrs. Riot. Laud! how should I provoke him? Billy Butterfly in the grove, I must go to him I seldom see him, very seldom speak to the crea we shall so rally your wisdom between us-ha! tore, unless I want money, besides, he's out all ha! ha! ha! day
The brisk, the bold, the young, the gay, after my journey-Suppose now you introduce All hie to the midnight hark-away. me to Proserpine, who knows how far my figure
and address may tempt her; and if her majesty
is over nice, shew me but her maids of honour, Æs. Unhappy woman ! Nothing can retrieve and I'll warrant you, they'll snap at a bit of fresh her; when the head has once a wrong bias, mortality. 'tis ever obstinate, in proportion to its weak Æs. Monstrous ! ness : but here comes one who seems to have no D. Man. Well, well, if it is monstrous, I say occasion for Lethe to make him more happy no more; if her majesty and retinue are so very than he is.
virtuous, I say no more; but I'll tell you what,
old friend, if you'll lend me your wife for half Enter Drunken Man and Tailor.
an hour; when you make a visit above, you shall
have mine as long as you please; and if upon D. Man. Come along, neighbour Snip; come trial, you should like mine better than your own, along, tailor; don't be afraid of hell before you you shall carry her away to the devil with you, die, you snivelling dog, you.
and ten thousand thanks into the bargain. Tai. For Heaven's sake, Mr. Riot, don't be Æs. This is not to be borne; either be silent, so boisterous with me, lest we should offend the or you'll repent this drunken insolence. powers below.
D. Man. What a cross old fool it is !-I
preÆs. What in the name of ridicule, have we sume, sir, from the information of your bump, here! So, sir, what are you?
and your wisdom, that your name is—is—what D. Man. Drunk-very drunk, at your ser- the devil is it? vice.
Æs. Æsop, at your service. Æs. That's a piece of information I did not D. Man. The same, the same-I knew you
well enough, you old sensible pimp you—many D. Mun. And yet it's all the information I a time has iny flesh felt birch upon your accan give you.
count; pr’ythee, what possessed thee to write Æs. Pray, sir, what brought you hither? such foolish old stories of a cock and a bull, and D. Man. Curiosity, and a hackney-coach. I don't know what, to plague poor innocent
Æs. I mean, sir, have you any occasion for lads with? It was damned cruel in you, let me my waters?
tell you that. D. Mun. Yes, great occasion; if you'll do me Æs. I am now convinced, sir, I have written the favour to qualify them with some good arrack them to very little purpose. and orange juice.
D. Man. To very little, I assure you : but neÆs. Sir!
ver mind it-Damn it, you are a fine old GreD. Mun. Sir! don't stare so, old gentleman ; cian, for all that-[Claps him on the buck.] Come let us have a little conversation with
you. here, Snip-is not he a fine old Grecian? And Æs. I would know if you have any thing op- though he is not the handsomest, or best dressed presses your mind, and makes you unhappy. man in the world, he has ten times more sense
D. Man. You are certainly a very great fool, than either you or I have. old gentleman ; did you ever know a man drunk Tai. Pray, neighbour introduce me. and unhappy at the same time?
D. Mun. I'll do it-Mr. Æsop, this sneakÆs. Never otherwise, for a man who has lost ing gentleman is my tailor, and an honest man his senses
he was, while he loved his bottle; but since he D. Man. Has lost the most troublesome com- turned methodist, and took to preaching, he has panions in the world, next to wives and bum- cabbaged one yard in six from all his customers. bailiffs.
Now you know him, hear what he has to say, Æs. But, pray, what is your business with while I go and pick up in the wood here. Upon
my soul, you are a fine old Grecian ! D. Man. Only to demonstrate to
[Erit Drunken Man.
Æs. (To Tailor.] Come, friend, don't be deÆs. Your humble servant.
jected ; what is your business? D. Mun. And to siew you, that whilst I can Tai. I am troubled in mind. get such liquor as I have been drinking all night, Æs. Is your case particular, friend? I shall never come for your water specifics Tai. No, indeed, I believe it is pretty general against care and tribulation; however old gen- in our parish. tleman, if you'll do one thing for me, I shan't Æs. What is it? speak out, friend. think my time and conversation thrown away Tai. It runs continually in my head, that I upon you. Æs. Any thing in my power.
Es. What? D. Mun. Why, then, here's a small matter for Tai. A cuckold. you; and, do you hear me? get me one of the Æs. Have a care, friend? jealousy is a rank best whores in your territories.
weed, and chiefly takes root in a barren soil. Æs. What do you mean?
Tai. I ain sure my head is full of nothing else D. Man. To refresh myself in the shades here Æs. But how came you to a knowledge of your
are an ass
misfortune? Has not your wife as much wit as Char. There are some ladies who have been you?
disputing so long and so loud about taking Tai. A great deal more, sir; and that is one place and precedency, that they have set their reason for my believing myself dishonoured relations a tilting at one another, to support
Æs. Though your reason has some weight in their vanity: the standers-by are some of them it, yet it does not amount to a conviction.
so frightened, and some of them so diverted at Tai I have more to say for myself, if your the quarrel, that they have not time to think of worship will but hear me.
their misfortunes; so I e'en left them to settle Æs. I shall attend to you.
their prerogatives by themselves, and be friends Tai. My wife has such very high blood in at their leisure. her, that she has lately turned papist, and is al Mer. What's to be done, Æsop? ways railing at me and the government. The Æs. Discharge these we have, and finish the priest and she are continually laying their heads business of the day. together, and I am afraid he has persuaded her, that it will save her precious soul, if she cuckolds
Enter Drunken Man and Mrs. Riot. a heretic tailor.
D. Man. I never went to pick up a whore Æs. Oh, don't think so hardly of them. in my life, but the first woman I laid hold of was
Tai. Lord, sir, you don't know what tricks are my dear virtuous wife, and here she is going forward above! Religion indeed is the out Æs. Is that lady your
wife? side stuif, but wickedness is the lining.
D. Man. Yes, sir; and yours, if you please to Æs. Why, you are in a passion, friend ; if you accept her. would but exert yourself thus at a proper time, Es. Though she has formerly given too much you might keep the fox from your poultry. into fashionable follies, she now repents, and
Tai. Lord, sir, my wife has as much passion will be more prudent for the future. again as I have; and whenever she's up, I curb D. Mun. Look'e, Mr. Æsop, all your preachmy temper, sit down, and say nothing.
ing and morality signifies nothing at all; but since Æs. What remedy have you
your wisdom seems bent upon our reformation, this misfortune?
I'll tell you the only way, old boy, to bring Tai. I would propose to dip my head in the it about. Let me have enough of your water river, to wash away my fancies; and if you'll let to settle my head; and throw madam into the me take a few bottles to my wife, if the water is river. of a cooling nature, I may perhaps be easy that Æs. 'Tis in vain to reason with such beings: way; but I shall do as your worship pleases. therefore, Mercury, summon the mortals from
Æs. I am afraid this method won't answer, the grove, and we'll disiniss them to earth, as friend :
: suppose therefore you drink to forget happy as Lethe can make them your suspicions, for they are nothing more; and let your wife drink to forget your uneasiness—a
SONG. mutual confidence will succeed, and consequent
BY MERCURY. ly mutual happiness.
Tui. I have such a spirit, I can never bear to Come mortals, come, come follow me, be dishonoured in my bed.
Come follow, follow, follow me, Æs. The water will cool your spirit, and if it To mirth, and joy, and jollity; 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 And leave your cares by Lethe's brink. 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
Away then come, come, come away,
And life shall hence be holiday ;
Nor jealous fears, nor strife, nor pain,
Shall ver the jovial heart ugain.
To Lethe's brink then follow all,
Away then come, come, come away,
And life shall hence be holiday ;
Nor jealous fears, nor strife, nor pain, Mer. What diverts you so, Charon!
Shail ver the jovial heart again. Char. Why, there's the devil to do among the mortals vonder; they are altogether by the ears. [During the song, the characters enter Æs. What's the matter?
from the grove.
Æs. Now, mortals, attend; I have perceived, are totally forgotten and neglected. Then from your examinations, that you have mis- follow me, and drink to the forgetfulness of taken the effects of your distempers for the vicecause; you would willingly be relieved from many things which interfere with your pas Tis vice alone disturbs the human breast; sions and affections; while your vices, from Care dies with guilt-be virtuous, and be which all your cares and misfortunes arise, blest,