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Keck. Not at all; the more tongue the better, of a second ; and my father kept my spirits in
subjection, as the best receipt (he said) for Wid. When the wind changes, I have no changing a widow into a wife; but now I have brogue at all, at all. But come, Mr. Whittol, my arms and legs at liberty, I must and will don't let us be vulgar, and talk of our poor re- have my swing: Now I am out of my cage, I lations : It is impossible to be in this metro- could dance two nights together, and a day too, polis of London, and have any thought but of like any singing bird; and I'm in such spirits, operas, plays, masquerades, and pantaons, to that I have got rid of my father, I could fly keep up one's spirits in the winter; and Rane- over the moon without wings, and back again lagh, Vauxhall, and Marybone fire-works, to cool before dinner. Bless my eyes! and I don't see and refresh one in the summer. La! la! la ! there Miss Nancy O'Flarty, and her brother,
[Sings. captain O'Flarty? He was one of my dying Whit. I protest she puts me into a sweat! we Strephons at Scarborough. I have a very great shall have a mob about us.
regard for him, and must make him a little miKec. The more the merrier, I say—who's serable with my happiness. [Curtseys.] Come afraid?
along, Skips! [To the servants.) don't you be Wid. How the poople stare! as if they never gostring there; show your liveries, and bow to saw a woman's voice before; but my vivacity your master that is to be, and to his friend, has got the better of my good manners. This, and hold up your heads, and trip after me as I suppose, this strange gentleman, is a near lightly as if you had no legs to your feet. I friend and relation ? and as such, notwithstand shall be with you again, jontlemen, in the crack ing his appearance, I shall always trate him, of a fan-0, I'll have a husband, ay, marry! tbough I might dislike him upon a nearer ac
[Erit singing. quaintance.
Kec. A fine buxom widow, faith! no acKec. Madam, you do me honour! I like your quaintance-delicate reserve mopes at home frankness, and I like your person, and I envy my forced into the air,—inclined to a consumption friend Whittle; and if you were not engaged, - What a description you gave of your wife! and I were not married, I would endeavour to Why, she beats my Sally, Tom! make myself agreeable to you, that I would Whit. Yes, and she'll beat me, if I dont take bugh! hugh!
What a change is here! I must turn Wid. And indeed, sir, it would be very agra- about, or this will turn my head. Dance for able to me, for if I should hate you as much as two nights together! and leap over the moon ! I did my first dare husband, I should always you shall dance and leap by yoursslf, that I am have the comfort, that in all human probability, resolved. my torments would not last long.
Kec. Here she comes again; it does my heart Kec. She utters something more than mono- good to see her—You are in luck, Tom. syllables, friend! this is better than bargain : Whit. I would give a finger to be out of such she has a fine bold way of talking.
luck. Whit. More bold than welcome! I am struck
Enter Widow, &c. all of a heap.
Wid. What, are you low spirited, my dare Mr. Wid. Ha, ha, ha! the poor captain is marched Whittol? When you were at Scarborough, and off in a fury: he can't bear to hear that the winning my affections, you were all mirth and town has capitulated to you, Mr. Whittol. I have gaiety; and now you have won me, you are as promised to introduce him to you: he will thoughtful about it, as if we had been married make one of my danglers to take a little exercise some time!
with me, when
your nap in the afterWhit. Indeed, madam, I can't but say I am a little thoughtful; we take it by turns; you Whit. You shan't catch me napping, I assure were very sorrowful a month ago for tbe loss of you. What a discovery and escape I have your husband; and that you could dry up your made; I am in a sweat with the thought of my tears so soon naturally makes me a little danger!
Kec. I protest, cousin, there goes my wife, Wid. Indeed, I could dry up my tears for a and her friend, Mr. Mac Brawn. What a fine dozen husbands when I was sure of having a tir-stately couple they are! I must after them, and teenth like Mr. Whittol: that's very natural, have a laugh with them—now they giggle and sure, both in England and Dublin, too! walk quick, that I mayn't overtake them. Ma
Kec. She won't die of a consumption; she dam, your servant. You're a happy man, Tom ! has fine full-toned voice, and you'll be very Keep up your spirits, old boy! Hugh! hugh! happy, Tom !---Hugh! hugh!
who's afraid !
(Erit. Whit. O yes, very happy.
Wid. I know Mr. Mac Brawn extremely well. Wid. But come, don't let us be melancholy He was very intimate at our house in my first before the time: I am sure I have been moped husband's time; a great comfort he was to me, up for a year and a half-I was obliged to to be sure ! He would very often leave his claret mourn for my first husband, that I night be sure and companions for a little conversation with
me: He was bred at the Dublin university; Wid. I'll rattle them away like smoke; there and, being a very deep scholar, has fine talents are no vapours where I come. I hate your for a tate a tate.
duinps, and your nerves, and your megrims ; Whit. She knows him, too ! I shall have my and I had much rather break your rest with house over-run with the Mac Brawns, O'Shoul- a little racketting, than let any thing get into ders, and the blood of the Backwells : Lord your head that should not be there, Mr. Whithave mercy upon me!
tol. Wid. Pray, Mr. Whittol, is that spindle Whit. I will take care that nothing shall be in legged crater of a cousin of yours lately married my head, but what ought be there: What a ha, ha, ha! I don't pity the poor crater his wife, deliverance !
[Aside. for that agreable cough of his will soon reward Wid. (Looking at her watch.] Bless me! ber for all her sufferings.
how the hours of the clock creep away when Whit. What a delivery! a reprieve before the we are plased with our company! But I must knot was tied !
(Aside. lave yon, for there are half a hundred people Wid, Are you unwell, Mr. Whittol? I should waiting for me to pick your pocket, Mr. Whitbe sorry you wou!d fall sick before the happy tol. And there is my own brother, lieutenant day. Your being in danger afterwards, would O'Neale, is to arrive this inorning; and he is so be a great consolation to me, because I should like me, you would not know us asuuder when have the pleasure of nursing you myself. we are together. You will be very fond of
Whit. I hope never to give you that trouble, him, poor lad! He lives by his wits, as you do madam.
by your fortune, and so you may assist one anoWid. No trouble at all, at all! I assure you, ther. Mr. Whittol, your obedient, 'till we meet sir, from my soul, that I shall take great delight at the pantaon. Follow me, Poinpey! and in the occasion.
Skips, do you follow him. Whit. Indeed, madam, I believe it.
Pon. The Baccararo white-man no let blacky Wid. I don't care bow soon; the sooner the boy go first after you, missis; they pull and better; and the more danger the more honour. pinch me. I spake from my heart.
Foot. It is a shame, your ladyship, that a Whit. And so do I from mine, madam. black negro should take place of Eoglish chris
[Sighs. tians-We can't follow him, indeed. Wid. But don't let us think of future plea Wid. Then you may follow one ancther out sure, and neglect the present satisfaction. My of my sarvice : if you follow me, you shall folmantua-maker is waiting for me to choose my low him, for he shall go before me: Can't I clothes, in which I shall forget the sorrows of make him your superior, as the laws of the land Mrs. Brady in the joys of Mrs. Whittol. Though have made him your equal! therefore, resign I have no fortune myself, I shall bring a tolera- as fast as you plase ; you shan't oppose governble one to you, in debts, Mr. Whittol; and ment, and keep your places, too; that is not which I will pay you tinfold in tinderness: good politics in England or Ireland either; so, Your deep purse, and my open heart, will make come along, Pompey, be after going before us the envy of the little grate ones, and the -Mr. Whittol, most linderly yours. grate little ones: the people of quality, with no
[Erit. souls, and grate souls with no cash at all. I Whit. Most tinderly yours! [Mimicks her.] hope you'll meet me at the pantaon this even-1-Ecod, I believe you are, and any body's else. ing. Lady Rantiton, and her daughter Miss -O, what an escape have I had! But how Nettledown, and Nancy Tittup, with half a shall I clear myself of this business! I'll serve dozen Maccaronies, and two Savoury Vivers, her as I would bad money, put her off into other are to take me there; and we propose a grate hands: My nephew is fool enough to be in love deal of chat and merriment, and dancing all with her, and if I give him a fortune, he'll night, and all other kind of recreations. I am take the good and the bad together-He shall do quite another kind of a crater, now I am a bird so, or starve. I'll send for Bates directly, conin the fields: I can junket about a week to- fess my folly, ask his pardon, send him to my gether : I have a fine constitution, and am nephew, write and declare off with the widow, never molested with your pasty vap irs. Are and so rid of her tinderness as fast as Í you ever troubled with vapours, Mr. Whittol ? can.
[Esit Whit. A little now and then, madam.
SCENE I.--A room in Wuttle's house. Bates. The demon of discord has been among
yon, and has untuned the whole family; you Enter Bates and NEPHEW.
ħave screwed him too high: the young man is Neph. [Taking him by the hand.) We are out of his senses, I think: he stares and mopes bound to
for ever, Mr. Bates; I can say no about, and sighs—looks at me, indeed, but gives more; words but ill express the real feelings of very absurd answers. I don't like him. the heart.
Whit. What's the matter, think you? Butes. I know you are a good lad, or I would Bates. What I have always expected. There not have meddled in the matter; but the busi- | is a crack in your family, and you take it by ness is not yet completed till signatum et sigil-turns! you have had it, and now transfer it to latum.
your nephew, which, to your shame be it spoNeph. Let me fly to the widow, and tell her ken, is the only transfer you have ever made how prosperouly we go on.
him. Butes. Don't be in a hurry, young man! She Whit. But am not I going to do him more is not in the dark I assure you, nor has she yet than justice? finished her part: so capital an actress should Bates. As you have done him much less than, not be idle in the last act.
justice hitherto, you can't begin too soon. Neph. I could wish that you would let me Whit. Am not I going to give him the lady come into my uncle's proposal at once, without he likes, and which I was going to marry myvexing him farther.
self? Bates. Then I declare off. Thou silly young
Bates. Yes, that is, you are taking a perpeman, are you to be duped by your own weak tual blister off your own back, to clap it upon good nature, and his worldly craft? This does his? What a tender uncle you are! not arise from his love and justice to you, but Whit. But you don't consider the estate which from his own miserable situation ; he must be I shall give him ? tortured into justice: He shall not only give Bates. Restore to him, you mean ; 'tis his up your whole estate, which he is loth to part own, and you should have given it up long ago: with, but you must now have a premium for you must do more, or Old Nick will have you.— agreeing to your own happiness. What, shall | Your nephew won't take the widow off your your widow, with wit and spirit, that would do hands without a fortune-throw him ten thouthe greatest honour to our sex, go through her sand into the bargain. task cheerfully, and shall your courage give
Whit. Indeed, but I shan't ; he shall run mad, way, and be outdone by a woman's?-fie for and I'll marry her myself, rather than do that.“ shame!
Mr. Bates, be a true friend, and sooth my neNeph. I beg your pardon, Mr. Bates ! I will phew to consent to my proposal. follow your directions; be as hard-hearted as Bates. You have raised the fiend, and ought my uncle, and vex his body and mind for the to lay him; however, I'll do my best for you:good of his soul.
When the head is turned, nothing can bring it Bates. That's a good child! and remember right again so soon as ten thousand pounds.that your own, and the widow's future happi- Shall I promise for you. ness, depends upon your both going through Whit. I'll sooner go to Bedlam myself. (Erit the business with spirit; make your uncle feel Bates.] Why, I am in a worse condition than for himself, that he may do justice to other I was before! If this widow's father will not let people. Is the widow ready for the last ex me be off without providing for his daughter, I periment?
may lose a great sum of money, and none of us Neph. She is. But think what anxiety I shall be the better for it. My nephew half mad ! feel while she is in danger !
myself half married ! and no remedy for either Båtes. Ha, ha, ha! she'll be in no danger! of us ! besides, shan't we be at hand to assist her? Hark! I hear him coming : I'll probe his callous
Enter Servant. heart to the quick! and if we are not paid for our trouble, nay, I am no politician. Fly: now Ser. Sir Patrick O'Neale come to wait upon we shall do!
[Erit Nephew. you: would you please to see him!
Whit. By all means, the very person I wantEnter WuITTLE.
ed: don't let him wait. (Exit Serrant.] I wonWhit. Well, Mr. Bates, have you talked with der if he has seen my letter to the widow; I my nephew? is not he overjoyed at the pro- will sound him by degrees, that I may be sure of
my mark before I strike the blow.
that, and like our family. I never saw lady Enter Sir PATRICK.
O'Nale, your mother-in-law, who, poor crater,
is dead, and can never be a mother-in-law again, Sir Pat. Mr. Whizzle, your humble servant. till the week before I married her; and I did -It gives me great pleasure, that an old jontle- not care if I had never seen her then ; which is man of your property will have the honour of a comfort, too, in case of death, or accideuts in being united with the family of the O’Nales! We life. have been too much jontlemen not to spend our
you don't understand me, Sir Paestate, as you have made yourself a kind of jon- trick. I say tleman by getting one. One runs out one way, Sir Pat. I say, how can that be, when we both and tother runs in another; which makes them spake English? both meet at last, and keeps up the balance of Whit. But you mistake my meaning, and Europe.
don't compre!iend me. Whit. I am much obliged to you, Sir Patrick;
Sir Pat. Then you don't comprehend yourI am an old gentlemen, you say true; and I was self, Mr. Whizzle; and I have not the gift of thinking
prophecy to find out, after you have spoke, what Sir Pat. And I was thinking, if you were ever
never was in you. so old, my daughter can't make you young again: Whit. Let nie entreat you to attend to me a She has as rich fine thick blood in her veins as little. any in all Ireland. I wish you had a swate cra Sir Pat. I do attend, man; I don't interrupt ter of a daughter like mine, that we might make you-out with it? a double cross of it.
Whit. Your daughter-Whit, That would be a double cross, indeed!
Sir Pat. Your wife that is to be. Go on
[Aside. Whit. My wife that is not to be-Zounds ! Sir Pat. Though I was miserable enough with will you hear me? my first wife, who had the devil of a spirit--and Sir Pat. To be, or not to be, is that the the very model of her daughter-yet a brave question? I can swear, too, if he wants a little nian never shrinks from danger, and I may have of that. better luck another time.
Whit. Dear Sir Patrick, hear me! I confess Whit. Yes; but I am no brave man, Sir Pa- myself unworthy of her; I have the greatest retrick; and I begin to shrink already.
gard for you, Sir Patrick; I should think mySir Pat. I have bred her up in great subjec- self honoured by being in your family; but there tion; she is as tame as a young colt, and as tin- are many reasons der as a sucking chicken. You will find her a Sir Pat. To be sure, there are many reasons true jontlewoman; and so knowing, that you why an old man should not marry a young can teach her nothing : She brings every thing woman; but that was your business, and not bat money, and you have enough of that, if
mine. have nothing else; and that is what I call the Whit. I have wrote a letter to your daughter, balance of things.
which I was in hopes you had seen, and brought Whit. But I have heen considering your me an answer to it. daughter's great deserts, and my great age Sir Pat. What the devil, Mr. Whizzle ! do
Sir Put. She's a charming crater; I would you make a letter-porter of me? Do you imaventure to say that, if I was not her father. gine, you dirty fellow, with your cash; that Sir
Whit. I say, sir, as I have been considering Patrick O'Nale would carry your letters? I your daughter's great deserts, and as I own I would have you know that I despise your lethave great demerits
ters, and all that belong to them ; nor would I Sir Pat. To be sure you have; but you can't carry a letter to the king, Heaven bless him ! help that: And if my daughter was to mention unless it came from myself. any thing of a fleering at your age, or your stin Whil. But dear Sir Patrick, don't be in a pasginess, by the balance of power, but I would sion for nothing. make her repate it a hundred times to your Sir Pat. What! is it nothing to make a face, to make her ashamed of it. But mum, old penny postman of me? But I'll go to my daughjontleman, the devil a word of your infirmities ter directly, for I bave not seen her to-day; and will she touch upon: I have brought her up to if I find that you have written any thing that I softness, and to gentleness, as a kitten to new won't understand, I shall take it as an affront to milk; she will spake nothing but no and yes, as my family; and you shall either let out the if she were dumb; and no tame rabbit or pigeon noble blood of thc O'Nales, or I will spill the will keep house, or be more inganious with her last drop of the red puddle of the Whizzles. needle and tambourine,
[Going, and returns.) Harkye, you Mr. Whit. She is vastly altered then, since I saw Whizzle, Wheezlc, Whistle, what's your name? ber last, or I have lost my senses; and, in either You must not stir, till I come back; if you ofcase, we had much better, since I must speak fer to ate, drink, or sleep, till my honour is saplain, not come together.
tisfied, 'twill be the worst male that you ever Sir Pat. Till you are married, you mane? - took in your life; you had better fast a year, With all my heart, it is the more gentale for and die at the end of six nths, than dare to:
lave your house. So now, Mr. Weezle, you are Tho. Here are the undertakers already.
[Exit Tuo. Whit. Now the devil is at work, indeed! If Whit. What shall I do? my head can't bear some miracle don't save me, I shall run mad, it; I will hang myself for fear of being run like my nephew, and have a long Irish sword through the body. throug me into the bargain. While I am in my senses, I won't have the woman; and there
Thomas returns with bills. fore, he that is out of them shall have her, if I give half my fortune to make the match. Tho. Half a score people I never saw before, Thomas !
with these bills and drafts upon you for pay
ment, signed Martha Brady. Enter THOMAS.
Whit. I wish Martha Brady was at the bot
tom of the Thames! What an impudent exWhit. Sad work, Thomas !
travagant baggage, to begin her tricks already! Tho. Sad work, indeed! why would you think Send them to the devil, and say I won't pay a of marrying? I knew what it would come to. farthing! Whit. Why, what is it come to?
Tho. You'll have another mob about the door. Thy. It is in all in the papers.
[Going. Whit. So much the better ; then nobody will Whit. Stay, stay, Thomas, tell them I am very believe it.
busy, and they must come to-morrow morning. Tho. But they come to me to inquire. Stay, stay! that is promising payment. No, no, Whit. And you contradict it?
no; tell them they must stay till I am married, Tho. What signifies that? I was telling Lady and so they will be satisfied, and tricked into Gabble's footman at the door just now, that it the bargain. was all a lie; and your nephew looks out of the Tho. When you are tricked, we shall all be two-pair-of-stairs window, with eyes all on fire, satisfied.
[Aside. and tells the whole story : Upon that, there ga
[Exit Tho. thered such a mob!
Whit. That of all dreadful things I should Whit. I shall be murdered, and have my house think of a woman, and that woman should be a pulled down into the bargain!
widow, and that widow should be an Irish one! Tho. It is all quiet again. I told them the quem Deus vult perdere-Who have we here! young man was out of his senses, and that you Another of the family I suppose? were out of town; so they went away quietly,
[Want, retires. and said they would come and mob you another time.
Enter Widow, as LIEUTENANT O'NEALE, Whit. Thomas, what shall I do?
seemingly fluttered, and putting up his Tho. Nothing you have done, if you will have sword, THOMAS following. matters mend.
Whit. I am out of my depth, and you won't Tho. I hope you are not hurt, captain? lend me your hand to draw me out.
Wid. O not at all, at all; 'tis well they run Tho. You are out of your depth to fall in away, or I should have made them run faster; I love; swim away as fast as you can; you'll be shall teach them how to snigger, and look through drowned, if you marry:
glasses at their betters. These are your MaccaWhit. I'm frightened out of my wits. Yes, roons, as they call themselves: By my soul, but yes,
'tis all over with me; I must not stir out of I would have stood till I had overtaken them. iny
house ; but am ordered to stay to be mur- These whipper-snappers look so much more like dered in it, for aught I know. What are you girls in breeches, than those I see in petticoats, muttering, Thomas? Pr’ythee speak out, and that fait and trot, it is a pity to hurt them: The comfort me!
fair sex in London here, seem the most masculine Tho. It is all a judgment upon you; because of the two. But to business : friend, where is your brother's foolish will says, the young man your master ? must have your consent, you won't let hiin have Tho. There, captain ; I hope he has not offendher, but will marry the widow yourself! That's ed you. the dog in the manger; you can't eat the oats, Wid. If you are impartinent, sir, you will ofand won't let those who can.
Lave the room. Whit. But I consent that he shall have both Tho. I value my life too much not to do that the widow and the fortune, if we can get him - What a raw-boned Tartar! I wish he had not into his right senses.
been caught and sent here. Tho. For fear I should lose mine, I'll get out
(Aside to his master, and erit. of bedlam as soon as possible; you must provide Whit. Her brother, by all that's terrible! And yourself with another servant.
as like her as two tygers! I sweat at the sight of Whii. The whole earth conspires against me! him; I'm sorry Thomas is gone. He has been You shall stay with me till I die, and then you quarrelling already. shall have a good legacy; and I won't live long, Wid. Is your name Whittol? I promise you! [Knocking at the door. I Whit. My name is Whittle, not Whittol.