Keck. Not at all; the more tongue the better, | of a second; and my father kept my spirits in say I. 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 and refresh one in the summer. La! la! la! [Sings. Whit. I protest she puts me into a sweat! we shall have a mob about us. Kec. The more the merrier, I say-who's afraid? before dinner. Bless my eyes! and I don't see there Miss Nancy O'Flarty, and her brother, captain O'Flarty? He was one of my dying Strephons at Scarborough. I have a very great regard for him, and must make him a little miserable with my happiness. [Curtseys.] Come 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-O, I'll have a husband, ay, marry! though I might dislike him upon a nearer acquaintance. Kec. Madam, you do me honour! I like your frankness, and I like your person, and I envy my friend Whittle; and if you were not engaged, and I were not married, I would endeavour to make myself agreeable to you, that I wouldbugh! hugh! Wid. And indeed, sir, it would be very agraable to me, for if I should hate you as much as I did my first dare husband, I should always have the comfort, that in all human probability, my torments would not last long. Kec. She utters something more than monosyllables, friend! this is better than bargain: she has a fine bold way of talking. Whit. More bold than welcome! I am struck all of a heap. Wid. What, are you low spirited, my dare Mr. Whittol? When you were at Scarborough, and winning my affections, you were all mirth and gaiety; and now you have won me, you are as thoughtful about it, as if we had been married some time! Whit. Indeed, madam, I can't but say I am a little thoughtful; we take it by turns; you were very sorrowful a month ago for the loss of your husband; and that you could dry up your tears so soon naturally makes me a little thoughtful. Wid. Indeed, I could dry up my tears for a dozen husbands when I was sure of having a tirteenth like Mr. Whittol: that's very natural, sure, both in England and Dublin, too! Kec. She won't die of a consumption; she has fine full-toned voice, and you'll be very happy, Tom!--Hugh! hugh! Whit. O yes, very happy. Wid. But come, don't let us be melancholy before the time: I am sure I have been moped up for a year and a half-I was obliged to ourn for my first husband, that I might be sure [Exit singing. Kec. A fine buxom widow, faith! no acquaintance delicate reserve-mopes at home forced into the air,—inclined to a consumption -What a description you gave of your wife! Why, she beats my Sally, Tom! Whit. Yes, and she'll beat me, if I dont take care. What a change is here! I must turn about, or this will turn my head. Dance for two nights together! and leap over the moon! you shall dance and leap by yourself, that I am resolved. Kec. Here she comes again; it does my heart good to see her-You are in luck, Tom. Whit. I would give a finger to be out of such luck. Enter WIDOW, &c. Wid. Ha, ha, ha! the poor captain is marched off in a fury: he can't bear to hear that the town has capitulated to you, Mr. Whittol. I have promised to introduce him to you: he will make one of my danglers to take a little exercise with me, when you take your nap in the afternoon. Whit. You shan't catch me napping, I assure you. What a discovery and escape I have made; I am in a sweat with the thought of my danger! [Aside. Kec. I protest, cousin, there goes my wife, and her friend, Mr. Mac Brawn. What a fine stately couple they are! I must after them, and have a laugh with them-now they giggle and walk quick, that I mayn't overtake them. Madam, your servant. You're a happy man, Tom! Keep up your spirits, old boy! Hugh! hugh!who's afraid! [Exit. Wid. I know Mr. Mac Brawn extremely well. He was very intimate at our house in my first husband's time; a great comfort he was to me, to be sure! He would very often leave his claret and companions for a little conversation with me: He was bred at the Dublin university;and, being a very deep scholar, has fine talents for a tate a tate. Whit. She knows him, too! I shall have my house over-run with the Mac Brawns, O'Shoulders, and the blood of the Backwells: Lord have mercy upon me! Wid. I'll rattle them away like smoke; there are no vapours where I come. I hate your dumps, and your nerves, and your megrims; and I had much rather break your rest with a little racketting, than let any thing get into your head that should not be there, Mr. Whittol. Wid. Pray, Mr. Whittol, is that poor 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! her for all her sufferings. how the hours of the clock creep away when we are plased with our company! But I must lave you, for there are half a hundred people waiting for me to pick your pocket, Mr. Whittol. And there is my own brother, lieutenant O'Neale, is to arrive this morning; and he is so like me, you would not know us asunder when we are together. You will be very fond of him, poor lad! He lives by his wits, as you do by your fortune, and so you may assist one another. Mr. Whittol, your obedient, 'till we meet at the pantaon. Follow me, Pompey! and Skips, do you follow him. Whit. What a delivery! a reprieve before the knot was tied! [Aside. Wid, Are you unwell, Mr. Whittol? I should be sorry you would fall sick before the happy day. Your being in danger afterwards, would be a great consolation to me, because I should have the pleasure of nursing you myself. Whit. I hope never to give you that trouble, madam. Wid. No trouble at all, at all! I assure you, sir, from my soul, that I shall take great delight in the occasion. Whit. Indeed, madam, I believe it. Whit. And so do I from mine, madam. Pom. The Baccararo white-man no let blacky boy go first after you, missis; they pull and pinch me. Foot. It is a shame, your ladyship, that a black negro should take place of English christians-We can't follow him, indeed. Wid. Then you may follow one another out of my sarvice: if you follow me, you shall follow him, for he shall go before me: Can't I make him your superior, as the laws of the land have made him your equal! therefore, resign as fast as you plase; you shan't oppose government, and keep your places, too; that is not good politics in England or Ireland either; so, come along, Pompey, be after going before me -Mr. Whittol, most tinderly yours. [Sighs. Wid. But don't let us think of future pleasure, and neglect the present satisfaction. My mantua-maker is waiting for me to choose my clothes, in which I shall forget the sorrows of Mrs. Brady in the joys of Mrs. Whittol. Though I have no fortune myself, I shall bring a tolerable one to you, in debts, Mr. Whittol; and which I will pay you tinfold in tinderness: Your deep purse, and my open heart, will make us the envy of the little grate ones, and the grate little ones: the people of quality, with no [Exit. 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--Ecod, I believe you are, and any body's else. ing. Lady Rantiton, and her daughter Miss-0, what an escape have I had! But how Nettledown, and Nancy Tittup, with half a dozen Maccaronies, and two Savoury Vivers, are to take me there; and we propose a grate deal of chat and merriment, and dancing all night, and all other kind of recreations. I am quite another kind of a crater, now I am a bird in the fields: I can junket about a week together I have a fine constitution, and am never molested with your nasty vapours. Are you ever troubled with vapours, Mr. Whittol? Whit. A little now and then, madam. shall I clear myself of this business! I'll serve her as I would bad money, put her off into other hands: My nephew is fool enough to be in love with her, and if I give him a fortune, he'll take the good and the bad together-He shall do so, or starve. I'll send for Bates directly, confess my folly, ask his pardon, send him to my nephew, write and declare off with the widow, and so get rid of her tinderness as fast as Í can. [Eait, ACT II. SCENE I.-A room in WHITTLE's house. Enter BATES and NEPHEW. Neph. [Taking him by the hand.] We are bound to you for ever, Mr. Bates; I can say no more; words but ill express the real feelings of the heart. Butes. I know you are a good lad, or I would not have meddled in the matter; but the business is not yet completed till signatum et sigillatum. Neph. Let me fly to the widow, and tell her how prosperouly we go on. Bates. Don't be in a hurry, young man! She is not in the dark I assure you, nor has she yet finished her part: so capital an actress should not be idle in the last act. Neph. I could wish that you would let me come into my uncle's proposal at once, without vexing him farther. Bates. Then I declare off. Thou silly young man, are you to be duped by your own weak good nature, and his worldly craft? This does not arise from his love and justice to you, but from his own miserable situation; he must be tortured into justice: He shall not only give up your whole estate, which he is loth to part with, but you must now have a premium for agreeing to your own happiness. What, shall your widow, with wit and spirit, that would do the greatest honour to our sex, go through her task cheerfully, and shall your courage give way, and be outdone by a woman's?-fie for shame! Neph. I beg your pardon, Mr. Bates! I will follow your directions; be as hard-hearted as my uncle, and vex his body and mind for the good of his soul. Bates. That's a good child! and remember that your own, and the widow's future happiness, depends upon your both going through the business with spirit; make your uncle feel for himself, that he may do justice to other people. Is the widow ready for the last experiment? Neph. She is. But think what anxiety I shall feel while she is in danger! Bates. Ha, ha, ha! she'll be in no danger! besides, shan't we be at hand to assist her?Hark! I hear him coming: I'll probe his callous heart to the quick! and if we are not paid for our trouble, nay, I am no politician. Fly: now we shall do! [Exit NEPHEW. Enter WHITTLE. Whit. Well, Mr. Bates, have you talked with my nephew? is not he overjoyed at the proposal ? Bates. The demon of discord has been among you, and has untuned the whole family; you have screwed him too high the young man is out of his senses, I think: he stares and mopes about, and sighs-looks at me, indeed, but gives very absurd answers. I don't like him. Whit. What's the matter, think you? Bates. What I have always expected. There is a crack in your family, and you take it by turns! you have had it, and now transfer it to your nephew, which, to your shame be it spoken, is the only transfer you have ever made him. Bates. Yes, that is, you are taking a perpetual blister off your own back, to clap it upon his? What a tender uncle you are! Whit. But you don't consider the estate which I shall give him? Bates. Restore to him, you mean; 'tis his own, and you should have given it up long ago: you must do more, or Old Nick will have you.Your nephew won't take the widow off your hands without a fortune-throw him ten thousand into the bargain. Whit. Indeed, but I shan't; he shall run mad, and I'll marry her myself, rather than do that.— Mr. Bates, be a true friend, and sooth my nephew to consent to my proposal. Bates. You have raised the fiend, and ought to lay him; however, I'll do my best for you:When the head is turned, nothing can bring it right again so soon as ten thousand pounds.Shall I promise for you. Whit. I'll sooner go to Bedlam myself. [Erit BATES.] Why, I am in a worse condition than I was before! If this widow's father will not let me be off without providing for his daughter, I may lose a great sum of money, and none of us be the better for it. My nephew half mad! myself half married! and no remedy for either of us! Enter Servant. Ser. Sir Patrick O'Neale is come to wait upon you: would you please to see him? Whit. By all means, the very person I wanted: don't let him wait. [Exit Servant.] I wonder if he has seen my letter to the widow; I will sound him by degrees, that I may be sure of my mark before I strike the blow. Enter SIR PATRICK. that, and like our family. I never saw lady 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 accidents in being united with the family of the O'Nales! We | life. have been too much jontlemen not to spend our estate, as you have made yourself a kind of jontleman by getting one. One runs out one way, and t'other runs in another; which makes them both meet at last, and keeps up the balance of Europe. Whit. I am much obliged to you, Sir Patrick; I am an old gentlemen, you say true; and I was thinking Sir Pat. And I was thinking, if you were ever so old, my daughter can't make you young again: She has as rich fine thick blood in her veins as any in all Ireland. I wish you had a swate crater of a daughter like mine, that we might make a double cross of it. Whit, That would be a double cross, indeed! L'Aside. Sir Pat. Though I was miserable enough with my first wife, who had the devil of a spirit-and the very model of her daughter-yet a brave man never shrinks from danger, and I may have better luck another time. Whit. Yes; but I am no brave man, Sir Patrick; and I begin to shrink already. Sir Pat. I have bred her up in great subjection; she is as tame as a young colt, and as tinder as a sucking chicken. You will find her a true jontlewoman; and so knowing, that you can teach her nothing: She brings every thing but money, and you have enough of that, if you have nothing else; and that is what I call the balance of things. Whit. But I have heen considering your daughter's great deserts, and my great ageSir Put. She's a charming crater; I would venture to say that, if I was not her father. Whit. I say, sir, as I have been considering your daughter's great deserts, and as I own I have great demerits Sir Pat. To be sure you have; but you can't help that: And if my daughter was to mention any thing of a fleering at your age, or your stinginess, by the balance of power, but I would make her repate it a hundred times to your face, to make her ashamed of it. But mum, old jontleman, the devil a word of your infirmities will she touch upon: I have brought her up to softness, and to gentleness, as a kitten to new milk; she will spake nothing but no and yes, as if she were dumb; and no tame rabbit or pigeon will keep house, or be more inganious with her needle and tambourine, Whit. She is vastly altered then, since I saw her last, or I have lost my senses; and, in either case, we had much better, since I must speak plain, not come together. Sir Pat. Till you are married, you mane? With all my heart, it is the more gentale for Whit. But you don't understand me, Sir Patrick. I say Sir Pat. I say, how can that be, when we both spake English? Whit. But you mistake my meaning, and don't comprehend me. Sir Pat. Then you don't comprehend yourself, Mr. Whizzle; and I have not the gift of prophecy to find out, after you have spoke, what never was in you. Whit. Let me entreat you to attend to me a little. Sir Pat. I do attend, man; I don't interrupt you-out with it? Whit. Your daughter―― Sir Pat. Your wife that is to be. Go onWhit. My wife that is not to be-Zounds! will you hear me? Sir Pat. To be, or not to be, is that the question? I can swear, too, if he wants a little of that. Whit. Dear Sir Patrick, hear me! I confess myself unworthy of her; I have the greatest regard for you, Sir Patrick; I should think myself honoured by being in your family; but there are many reasons Sir Pat. To be sure, there are many reasons why an old man should not marry a young woman; but that was your business, and not mine. Whit. I have wrote a letter to your daughter, which I was in hopes you had seen, and brought me an answer to it. Sir Pat. What the devil, Mr. Whizzle! do you make a letter-porter of me? Do you imagine, you dirty fellow, with your cash, that Sir Patrick O'Nale would carry your letters? I would have you know that I despise your letters, and all that belong to them; nor would I carry a letter to the king, Heaven bless him! unless it came from myself. Whit. But dear Sir Patrick, don't be in a passion for nothing. Sir Pat. What! is it nothing to make a penny postman of me? But I'll go to my daughter directly, for I have not seen her to-day; and if I find that you have written any thing that I won't understand, I shall take it as an affront to my family; and you shall either let out the noble blood of the O'Nales, or I will spill the last drop of the red puddle of the Whizzles. [Going, and returns.] Harkye, you Mr. Whizzle, Wheezle, Whistle, what's your name? You must not stir, till I come back; if you offer to ate, drink, or sleep, till my honour is satisfied, 'twill be the worst male that you ever took in your life; you had better fast a year, and die at the end of six months, than dare to lave your house. So now, Mr. Weezle, you are to d as you plase. [Exit SIR PAT. Whit. Now the devil is at work, indeed! If some miracle don't save me, I shall run mad, like my nephew, and have a long Irish sword through me into the bargain. While I am in my senses, I won't have the woman; and therefore, he that is out of them shall have her, if I give half my fortune to make the match. Thomas! Enter THOMAS. Whit. Sad work, Thomas! Tho. Sad work, indeed! why would you think of marrying? I knew what it would come to. Whit. Why, what is it come to? Tho. It is in all in the papers. Whit. So much the better; then nobody will believe it. Tho. But they come to me to inquire. Tho. What signifies that? I was telling Lady Gabble's footman at the door just now, that it was all a lie; and your nephew looks out of the two-pair-of-stairs window, with eyes all on fire, and tells the whole story: Upon that, there gathered such a mob ! Whit. I shall be murdered, and have my house pulled down into the bargain! Tho. It is all quiet again. I told them the young man was out of his senses, and that you were out of town; so they went away quietly, and said they would come and mob you another time. Whit. Thomas, what shall I do? Tho. Nothing you have done, if you will have matters mend. Whit. I am out of my depth, and you won't lend me your hand to draw me out. Tho. You are out of your depth to fall in love; swim away as fast as you can; you'll be drowned, if you marry. Whit. I'm frightened out of my wits. Yes, yes, 'tis all over with me; I must not stir out of my house; but am ordered to stay to be murdered in it, for aught I know. What are you muttering, Thomas? Pr'ythee speak out, and comfort me! Tho. It is all a judgment upon you; because your brother's foolish will says, the young man must have your consent, you won't let him have her, but will marry the widow yourself! That's the dog in the manger; you can't eat the oats, and won't let those who can. Tho. Here are the undertakers already. [Exit THO. Whit. What shall I do? my head can't bear it; I will hang myself for fear of being run through the body. THOMAS returns with bills. Tho. Half a score people I never saw before, with these bills and drafts upon you for payment, signed Martha Brady. Whit. I wish Martha Brady was at the bottom of the Thames! What an impudent extravagant baggage, to begin her tricks already! Send them to the devil, and say I won't pay a farthing! Tho. You'll have another mob about the door. [Going. Whit. Stay, stay, Thomas, tell them I am very busy, and they must come to-morrow morning. Stay, stay! that is promising payment. No, no, no; tell them they must stay till I am married, and so they will be satisfied, and tricked into the bargain. Tho. When you are tricked, we shall all be satisfied. [Aside. [Exit THO. Whit. That of all dreadful things I should think of a woman, and that woman should be a widow, and that widow should be an Irish one! quem Deus vult perdere-Who have we here? Another of the family I suppose? [WHIT. retires. Enter WIDOW, as LIEUTENANT O'NEALE, seemingly fluttered, and putting up his sword, THOMAS following. Tho. I hope you are not hurt, captain? Wid. O not at all, at all; 'tis well they run away, or I should have made them run faster; I shall teach them how to snigger, and look through glasses at their betters. These are your Maccaroons, as they call themselves: By my soul, but I would have stood till I had overtaken them. These whipper-snappers look so much more like girls in breeches, than those I see in petticoats, that fait and trot, it is a pity to hurt them: The fair sex in London here, seem the most masculine of the two. But to business: friend, where is your master? Tho. There, captain; I hope he has not offended you. Wid. If you are impartinent, sir, you will offend me. 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. Tho. For fear I should lose mine, I'll get out of bedlam as soon as possible; you must provide yourself with another servant. Whit. The whole earth conspires against me! You shall stay with me till I die, and then you shall have a good legacy; and I won't live long, I promise you! [Knocking at the door. been caught and sent here. [Aside to his master, and exit. Whit. Her brother, by all that's terrible! And as like her as two tygers! I sweat at the sight of him; I'm sorry Thomas is gone-He has been quarrelling already. Wid. Is your name Whittol? Whit. My name is Whittle, not Whittol. |