Ser. For all this, I believe, hussy, a right ho- | nourable proposal would soon make you alter your mind. Char. Not unless the proposer had other qualities than what he possesses by patent. Besides, sir, you know sir Luke is a devotee to the bottle. Ser. Not a whit the less honest for that. Char. It occasions one evil at least; that when under its influence, he generally reveals all, sometimes more than he knows. Ser. Proofs of an open temper, you baggage! but, come, come, all these are but trifling objections. Char. You mean, sir, they prove the object a trifle ? Ser. Why, you pert jade, do you play on my words? I say sir Luke is Char. Nobody. Ser. Nobody! how the deuce do you make that out? He is neither person attainted or outlawed; may, in any of his majesty's courts, sue or be sued, appear by attorney, or in propria persona: can acquire, buy, procure, purchase, possess, and inherit, not only personalities, such as goods and chattels, but even realities, as all lands, tenements, and hereditaments, whatsoever and wheresoever. Char. There is your next-door neighbour, sir Harry Hen, an absolute blank. Ser. How so, Mrs. Pert? Char. What, sir! a man who is not suffered to hear, see, smell, or, in short, to enjoy the free use of any one of his senses; who, instead of having a positive will of his own, is denied even a paltry negative; who can neither resolve or reply, consent or deny, without first obtaining the leave of his lady: an absolute monarch to sink into the sneaking state of being a slave to one of his subjects-Oh fye! Ser. Why, to be sure, sir Harry Hen is, as I may say Char. Nobody, sir, in the fullest sense of the word-Then your client, Lord Solo. Ser. Heyday! Why, you would not annihilate a peer of the realm, with a prodigious estate, and an allowed judge, too, of the elegant arts? Char. O yes, sir, I am no stranger to that nobleman's attributes; but then, sir, please to consider, his power as a peer he gives up to a proxy; the direction of his estate to a rapacious, artful attorney and as to his skill in the elegant arts, I presume you confine them to painting and muBic. He is directed, in the first, by Mynheer Van Eisel, a Dutch dauber; and, in the last, is but the echo of Signora Florenza, his lordship's mistress, and an opera singer. Ser. Mercy upon us! at what a rate the jade runs! Char. In short, sir, I define every individual, who, ceasing to act for himself, becomes the tool, the mere engine, of another man's will, to be nothing more than a cypher. Ser. At this rate the jade will half unpeople the world; but what is all this to sir Luke? to him not one of your cases apply. Char. Every one-sir Luke has not a first principle in his whole composition; not only his pleasures, but even his passions, are prompted by others; and he is as much directed to the objects of his love and his hatred, as in his eating, drinking, and sleeping. Nay, though he is active, and eternally busy, yet his own private affairs are neglected; and he would not scruple to break an appointment that was to determine a considerable part of his property, in order to exchange a couple of hounds for a lord, or to buy a pad-nag for a lady. In a word-but he's at hand, and will explain himself best; I hear his stump on the stairs. Ser. I hope you will preserve a little decency before your lover at least? Char. Lover! ha, ha, ha! Enter SIR LUKE LIMP. Sir Luke. Mr. Serjeant, your slave!—Ah! are you there, my little-O Lord! Miss, let me tell you something for fear of forgetting-Do you know that you are new-christened, and have had me for a gossip? Char. Christened! I don't understand you. Sir Luke. Then lend me your ear-Why, last night, as colonel Kill'em, sir William Weezy, lord Frederick Foretop and I, were carelesly sliding the Ranelagh round, picking our teeth, after a damned muzzy dinner at Boodle's, who should trip by but an abbess, well known about town, with a smart little nun in her suit. Says Weezy (who, between ourselves, is as husky as hell) Who is that? odds flesh, she's a delicate wench! Zounds! cried lord Frederick, where can Weezy have been, not to have seen the Harrietta before? for you must know Frederick is a bit of a Macaroni, and adores the soft Italian termination in a. Char. He does? Sir Luke. Yes, a dilletanti all over. Before? replied Weezy; crush me if ever I saw any thing half so handsome before !-No! replied I in an instant; colonel, what will Weezy say when he sees the Charlotta ?-Hey! you little Char. Meaning me, I presume? Sir Luke. Without doubt; and you have been toasted by that name ever since. Ser. What a vast fund of spirits he has ! Sir Luke. And why not, my old splitter of causes? Ser. I was just telling Charlotte, that you was not a whit the worse for the loss. Sir Luke. The worse! much the better, my dear. Consider, I can have neither strain, splint, spavin, or gout; have no fear of corns, kibes, or that another man should kick my shins, or tread on my toes. Ser. Right. Sir Luke. What, d'ye think I would change with Bill Spindle for one of his drumsticks, or chop with Lord Lumber for both of his logs? Ser. No! Sir Luke. No, damn it, I am much betterLook there-Ha!-What is there I am not able to do! To be sure I am a little aukward at running; but then, to make me amends, I'll hop with any man in town for his sum. Ser. Ay, and I'll go his halves. Sir Luke. Then as to your dancing, I am cut out at Madam Cornelly's, I grant, because of the crowd; but as far as a private set of six couple, or moving a chair-minuet, match me who can! Char. A chair-minuet! I don't understand you. Enter a Servant, and delivers a card to SIR LUKE. Sir Luke. [Reads.]-Sir Gregory Goose desires the honour of sir Luke Limp's company to dine. An answer is desired. Gadso! a little unlucky; I have been engaged for these three weeks. Ser. What, I find sir Gregory is returned for the corporation of Fleesum. Sir Luke. Why, child, all grace is confined to the motion of the head, arms, and chest, which Sir Luke. Is he so? Oh, oh!-That alters the may, sitting, be as fully displayed as if one had case-George, give my compliments to sir Greas many legs as a polypus-As thus-tol de rol-gory, and I'll certainly come and dine there. Order Joe to run to alderman Inkle's in Threaddon't you see? needle-street; sorry can't wait upon him, but confined to bed two days with new influenza. Ser. Very plain. Sir Luke. A leg! a redundancy! a mere nothing at all. Man is from nature an extravagant creature. In my opinion, we might all be full as well as we are with but half the things that we have. Char. Ay, sir Luke? how do you prove that? Sir Luke. By constant experience.-You must have seen the man who makes and uses pens without hands? Ser. I have. Sir Luke. And not a twelve-month agone, I lost my way in a fog, at Mile-end, and was conducted to my house in May-fair by a man as blind as a beetle. Sir Luke. If you doubt it, I will introduce you to a whole family, dumb as oysters, and deaf as the dead, who chatter from morning till night by only the help of their fingers. Char. You make light, sir Luke, of these sort of engagements? will fellows (when one has the misfortune to meet Sir Luke. What can a man do? These damned them) take scandalous advantages-teaze- when you do me the honour, pray, sir Luke, to take a bit of mutton with me? do you name the day-They are as bad as a beggar who attacks your coach at the mounting of a hill; there is no getting rid of them, without a penny to one and a promise to t'other. Ser. True; and then for such a time, too— three weeks! I wonder they expect folks to remember. It is like a retainer in Michaelmas term for the summer assizes. Sir Luke. Not but upon these occasions, no man in England is more punctual than Enter a Servant, who gives SIR LUKE a letter. From whom? Serv. Earl of Brentford. The servant waits for an answer. Ser. Why, Charlotte, these are cases in point. Sir Luke. Answer!-By your leave, Mr. SerSir Luke. Oh! clear as a trout-stream; and jeant and Charlotte [Reads.] Taste for music it is not only, my little Charlotte, that this piece -Mons. Duport-fail-Dinner upon table at of timber answers every purpose, but it has pro-five-Gadso! I hope sir Gregory's servant a'n't cured me many a bit of fun in my time. Ser. Ay! Sir Luke. Why, it was but last summer at Tunbridge, we were plagued the whole season with a bullet-headed Swiss from the canton of Berne, who was always boasting what and how much be dare do; and then, as to pain, no Stoic, not Diogenes, held it in more contempt. By gods, he vas ne more minds it dan nothings at all —So, foregad, I gave my German a challenge. gone? Serv. Immediately upon receiving the answer. Sir Luke. Run after him as fast as you cantell him, quite in despair-recollect an engagement that can't in nature be missed-and return in an instant. Char. You see, sir, the knight must give way for my lord. Sir Luke. No, faith, it is not that my dear Charlotte; you saw that was quite an extempore business. No, hang it, no, it is not for the title; but, to tell you the truth, Brentford has more wit than any man in the world; it is that makes me fond of his house. Char. By the choice of his company he gives an unanswerable instance of that. Sir Luke. You are right, my dear girl. But now to give you a proof of his wit. You know Brentford's finances are a little out of repair, which procures him some visits that he would very gladly excuse. Ser. What need he fear? His person is sacred; for, by the tenth of William and MarySir Luke. He knows that well enough; but for all that Ser. Indeed, by a late act of his own house, (which does them infinite honour) his goods or chattels may be Sir Luke. Seized upon, when they can find them; but he lives in ready-furnished lodgings, and hires his coach by the month. Ser. Nay, if the sheriff return, non inven 'tus' Serv. Sir, his grace, the duke of Sir Luke. Grace! where is he?-WhereServ. In his coach at the door. If you a'n't better engaged, would be glad of your company to go into the city, and take a dinner at Dolly's. Sir Luke. In his own coach, did you say? Sert. Yes, sir. Sir Luke. With the coronets-or- Sir Luke. There's no resisting of that.—Bid Serv. He is already gone to alderman Inkle's. Sir Luke. Then do you step to the knighthey!-no-you must go to my lord's-hold, hold, no-I have it-Step first to Sir Greg's, then pop in at Lord Brentford's just as the company are going to dinner Serv. What shall I say to Sir Gregory? Sir Luke. What!—Why, tell him, that my Sir Luke. A pox o'your law, you make me lose sight of my story! One morning, a Welch coachmaker came with his bill to my lord whose name was unluckily Loyd. My lord had the man up. You are called, I think, Mr. Loyd?-At your lordship's service, my lord.-What! Loyd with an L-It was with an L indeed, my lord.-Because in your part of the world, I have heard that Loyd and Floyd were synonymous, the very same names. Very often, indeed, my lord.-But you always spell yours with an L?-Always.-That, Ser. Why, hussy, you have hit upon points; Mr. Loyd, is a little unlucky; for you must know but then they are but trifling flaws, they don't I am now paying my debts alphabetically, and invitiate the title, that stands unimpeached; and— four or five years you might have come in with But, madam, your mother. an F; but I am afraid I can give you no hopes for your L.-Ha, ha, ha! Enter a Servant. Serv. There was no overtaking the servant. Sir Luke. That is unlucky! Tell my lord I'll attend him. I'll call on Sir Gregory myself. Ser. Why, you won't leave us, Sir Luke? Sir Luke. Pardon, dear Serjeant and Charlotte! have a thousand things to do for half a million of people, positively: promised to procure a husband for lady Cicely Sulky, and match a coach-horse for brigadier Whip; after that must run into the city to borrow a thousand for young At-all at Almack's; send a Cheshire cheese, by the stage, to Sir Timothy Tankard in Suffolk; and get, at the Herald's office, a coat of arms to clap on the coach of Billy Bengal, a nabob newly arrived: so you see I have not a moment to lose. Ser. True, true. Sir Luke. At your toilet to-morrow, at ten, you may——— Enter a Servant abruptly, and runs against Can't you see where you are running, you ras- Char. Well, sir, what d'ye think of the proofs? I flatter myself I have pretty well established my case. Enter MRS. CIRCUIT. Mrs. Cir. What have you done with the knight? Why, you have not let him depart ? Char. It was not in my power to keep him. Mrs. Cir. I don't wonder at that; but what took him away? Char. What will at any time take him away— a duke at the door. Mrs. Cir. Are you certain of that? Ser. Why, truly, chuck, his retreat was rather precipitate for a man, that is just going to be married. Mrs. Cir. The prospect of marriage does not always prove the strongest attachment. Ser. Pardon me, lovee: the law allows no higher consideration than marriage. Mrs. Cir. Pshaw! Ser. Insomuch, that if duke A was to intermarry with chambermaid B, difference of condition would prove no bar to the settlement. Mrs. Cir. Indeed! Ser. Ay; and this was held to be law by Chief Baron Bind'em, in the famous case of the Marquis of Cully and Fanny Flip-flap, the French dancer. Mrs. Cir. The greater blockhead the baron:— but don't pester me with your odious law-cases. Did not you tell me you was to go to Kingston | lovce we shall be able to fleece your friends not to-day to try the crown causes? only of what they have won of poor dearee, but Ser. I was begged to attend for fear his lord-likewise for what they have lost. ship should not be able to sit; but, if it proves inconvenient to you Mrs. Cir. To me! Oh, by no means in the world; I am too good a subject to desire the least delay in the law's execution. And when d'ye set out? Ser. Between one and two. I shall only just give a law lecture to Jack. Mrs. Cir. Lord! I wonder, Mr. Circuit, you would breed that boy up to the bar. Ser. Why not, chuck? He has fine steady parts, and for his time moots a point— Mrs. Cir. Steady! stupid, you mean: nothing, sure, could add to his heaviness but the being loaded with law. Why don't you put him into the army? Ser. Nay, chuck, if you choose it, I believe I have interest to get Jack a commission. Mrs. Cir. Why, Mr. Circuit, you know he is no son of mine: perhaps, a cockade may animate the lad with some fire. Ser. True, lovee; and a knowledge of the law mayn't be amiss to restrain his fire a little. Mrs. Cir. I believe there is very little danger of his exceeding in that way. Ser. Charlotte, send hither your brother. [Exit CHAR. Mrs. Cir. I'll not interrupt you. Ser. Far from it, lovee; I should be glad to have you a witness of Jacky's improvement. Mrs. Cir. Why, what a paltry, pettifogging puppy art thou! And could you suppose that I would submit to the scandalous office? Ser. Scandalous! I don't understand this strange perversion of words. The scandal lies in breaking the laws, not in bringing the offenders to justice. Mrs. Cir. Mean-spirited wretch! What, do you suppose that those laws could be levelled against people of their high rank and condition? Can it be thought that any set of men would submit to legal restraints on themselves? Absurd, and preposterous. Ser. Why, by their public practice, my love, one would suspect that they thought themselves excepted by a particular clause. Mrs. Cir. Oh, to be sure! not the least doubt can be made. Ser. True, chuck-But, then, your great friends should never complain of highwaymen stopping their coaches, or thieves breaking into their houses. Mrs. Cir. Why, what has that to do with the business? Ser. Oh, the natural consequence, lovee; for, whilst the superiors are throwing away their fortunes, and consequently their independence, above-you can't think but their domestics are following their examples below. Mrs. Cir. Well, and what then? Mrs. Cir. Of that I am no judge; besides, I Ser. Then! the same distress that throws am full of business to-day-There is to be a the master and mistress into the power of any ballot at one for the Ladies Club lately estab-who are willing to purchase them, by a regulished, and lady Bab Basto has proposed me for a member. Pray, my dear, when will you let me have that money to pay my lord Loo? lar gradation seduces the servants to actions, though more critical, perhaps not more atrocious. Mrs. Cir. Pshaw! stuff! I have no need to Ser. The three hundred you mean? examine your dirty distinctions--Don't tease me Mrs. Cir. And besides, there is my debt to with your jargon--I have told you the sums I Kitty Cribbage. I protest I almost blush when-shall want, so take care they are ready at your ever I meet then. Ser. Why really, lovee, 'tis a large sum of money. Now, were I worthy to throw in a little advice, we might make a pretty good hand of this business. Mrs. Cir. I don't understand you. Ser. Bring an action against them on the statute in the name of my clerk; and so not only rescue the debt from their hands, but recover likewise considerable damages. Mrs. Cir. A pretty conceit, Mr. Serjeant! but does it not occur to your wisdom, that as I have (by the help of captain Dog) been oftener a winner than loser, the tables may be turned upon us? Ser. No, no, chuck, that did not escape me-I have provided for that. Do you know, by the law, both parties are equally culpable; so that, returning from Kingston. Nay, don't hesitate; recollect your own state of the case, and remember my honour is in pawn, and must some way or other be redeemed by the end of the [Exit. week. Ser. [Solus.] My honour is in pawn! Good Lord! how a century will alter the meaning of words! Formerly, chastity was the honour of women, and good faith and integrity the honour of men: but now, a lady who ruius her family by punctually paying her losses at play, and a gentleman who kills his best friend in some trifling frivolous quarrel, are your only tip-toe people of honour. Well, let them go on, it brings grist to our mill; for whilst both the sexes stick firin to their honour, we shall never want business either at Doctor's Commons or the Old Bailey. [Exit. ACT II. SCENE I. Well, Mr. Fairplay, what's your will? Fair. We have full proofs to that fact. you suits Fair. True, sir, but then your experience will shorten, I appreh— Ser. That's more than I know; and, then, not only my fees lying dormant, but, perhaps, an expectation of money advanced. Fair. The property, sir, is of very great value, and, upon the recovery, any acknowledgement shall be readily made. myself! He is a sweet, sober youth, and will one day make a vast figure, I am sure. Serj. Indeed! Jack. I am positive, sir, if you were to hear him speak at the Robinhood in the Butcher-row, you would say so yourself. Why he is now reckoned the third. Except the breeches-maker from Barbican, and Sawney Sinclair, the snuffman, there not a mortal can touch him. Ser. Peace, puppy! Well, Mr. Fairplay, leave the papers a little longer with me, andpray, who is employed against you? Fair. A city attorney, one Sheepskin. [Exeunt Ser. Jack, open the door for MrFAIRPLAY and JACK.] Something may be made of this matter. I'll see this Sheepskin myself. So much in future for carrying on the suit, or so much in hand to make it miscarry. A wise man should well weigh which party to take for. Enter JACK. So, Jack, any body at chambers to-day? Jack. Fieri Facias from Fetter-lane, about the bill to be filed by Kit Crape against Will Vizard this term. Ser. Praying for an equal partition of plunder? Jack. Yes, sir. Ser. Strange world we live in, that even highwaymen can't be true to each other! [Half aside to himself.] But we shall makemaster Vizard refund; we'll show him what long hands the law has. Jack. Facias says, that in all the books, he can't hit a precedent. Ser. There again, any! do you know, that Ser. Then I'll make one myself; aut inveniin law, the word any has no meaning at all?-am aut faciam, has been always my motto. The besides, when people are in distress, they are la- charge must be made for partnership profit, by vish enough of their offers; but when their busi- bartering lead and gun-power against money, ness is done, then we have nothing but grum-watches, and rings, on Epping-forest, Hounslowbling and grudging. Fair. You have only to dictate your terms. Fair. He has been under my care since the death of his father. I have given him as good education as my narrow fortune would let me. He is now studying the law in the Temple, in hopes, that, should he fail of other assistance, be may be able one day to do himself justice. Ser. In the Temple? Fair. Yes, sir, in those little chambers just over your head- -I fancy the young gentleman knows him. heath, and other parts of the kingdom. Jack. He says, if the court should get scent of the scheme, the parties would all stand committed. Ser. Cowardly rascal! but, however, the caution mayn't prove amiss. [Aside.] I'll not put my own name to the bill. Jack. The declaration, too, is delivered in the cause of Roger Rapp'em against Sir Solomon Simple. Ser. What, the affair of the note? Ser. Why, he is clear that his client never Jack. Who? Mr. Woodford? Lord, as well as I gave such a note. |