Wild. 'Tis more than I do for her; and, to tell you the truth, more than I believe she does for me: This is a match of prudence, man! bargain and sale! my reverend dad and the old put of a citizen finished the business at Lloyd's coffee house by inch of candle-a mere transferring of property! Give your son to my daughter, and I will give my daughter to your son."That's the whole affair; and so I am just arrived to consummate the nuptials. Beau. Thou art the happiest fellowWild. Happy! so I am; what should I be otherwise for? If Miss Sally-upon my soul, I forget the name Beau. Well! that is so unlike you-Miss Sally Philpot. Wild. Ay; very true- -Miss Sally Philpot --she will bring fortune sufficient to pay off an old incumbrance upon the family-cstate, and my father is to settle handsomely upon me-and so I have reason to be contented, have not I? Beau. And you are willing to marry her without having one spark of love for her? Wild. Love! Why, I make myself ridiculous enough by marrying, don't I, without being in love into the bargain? What! am I to pine for a girl that is willing to go to bed to me? Love, of all things!-My dear Beaufort, one sees so many breathing raptures about each other before marriage, and dinning their insipidity into the ears of all their acquaintance: My dear madam, don't you think him a sweet man? a charminger creature never was! Then he on his sideMy life! my angel! oh! she's a paradise of ever-blooming sweets! And, then, in a month's time, 'He's a perfidious wretch! I wish I had never scen his face-the devil was in me when I had any thing to say to him.' Oh! damn her for an inanimated piece-I wish she poisoned herself, with all my heart.' That is ever the way; and so you see love is all nonsense; well enough to furnish romances for boys and girls at circulating libraries; that is all, take my word for it. Beau. Pho! that is idle talk; and in the mean time I am ruined. Wild. How so ? brother-in-law, I know nothing of them. What sort of a fellow is the son? Beau. Oh! a diamond of the first water! a buck, sir! a blood! every night at this end of the town; at twelve next day he sneaks about the 'Change, in a little bit of a frock, and a bobwig, and looks like a sedate book-keeper in the eyes of all who behold him. Wild. Upon my word a gentleman of spirit! Beau. Spirit! he drives a phaton two story high, keeps his girl at this end of the town, and is the gay George Philpot all round Covent Garden. Wild. Oh, brave !—and the fatherBeau. The father, sir- But here comes Maria; take his picture from her. [She sings within. Wild. Hey! she is musical this morning;she holds her usual spirits, I find. Beau. Yes, yes; the spirit of eighteen, with the idea of a lover in her head. Wild. Ay; and such a lover as you, too !— though still in her teens, she can play upon all your foibles, and treat you as she does her monkey-tickle you, torment you, enrage you, sooth you, exalt you, depress you, pity you, laugh at you-Ecce signum! Enter MARIA, singing. The same giddy girl!—-Sister !—come, my dear Maria. Have done, brother; let me have my own way-I will go through my song. Wild. I have not seen you this age; ask me how I do. Maria. I won't ask you how you do- I won't take any notice of you-I don't know you. Wild. Do you know this gentleman, then? will you speak to him? Maria. No, I won't speak to him; I'll sing to him-'tis my humour to sing. Sings. Beau. Be serious for a moment, Maria! my all depends upon it Maria. Oh, sweet sir! you are dying, are you? then, positively, I will sing the song; for it is a description of yourself-mind it, Mr. Beaufort Beau. Why, you know the old couple have-mind it- -Brother, how do you do? [Kisses bargained your sister away. Wild. Bargained her away! and will you pretend you are in love? Can you look tamely on, and see her bartered away at Garraway's, like logwood, cochineal, or indigo? Marry her privately, man, and keep it secret till my affair is over. Beau. My dear Wilding will you propose it to her. Wild. With all my heart she is very long a coming I'll tell you what, if she has a fancy for you, carry her off at once-But, perhaps, she has a mind to this cub of a citizen, Miss Sally's brother. Beau. Oh, no! he's her aversion. Wild. I have never seen any of the family,but my wife that is to be-my father-in-law and my him.] Say nothing, don't interrupt me. [Sings. Wild. Have you seen your city lover yet? Maria. No; but I long to see him; I fancy he is a curiosity. Beau. Long to see him, Maria! Maria. Yes; long to see him!-[BEAUFORT fiddles with his lip, and looks thoughtful.] Brother, brother! [Goes to him softly, beckons him to look at BEAUFORT] do you see that? [ Mimics him] mind him; ha, ha! Beau. Make me ridiculous if you will, Maria, so you don't make me unhappy by marrying this cititzen. Maria And would you not have me marry, sir? What! I must lead a single life to please you, must I?-Upon my word, you are a pretty gentleman to make laws for me. [Sings. Can it be, or by law, or by equity said, Wild. Come, come, Miss Pert, compose yourself a little-this way will never do. Wild. Where are you to see the young citizen? Maria. My cross ill-natured brother! but it will do -Lord! what, do you both call me Maria, Why, papa will be at home in an hour, hither to plague me? I won't stay among ye-à and then he intends to drag me into the city l'honneur, à l'honneur――[Running away.] àwith him, and there the sweet creature is to be l'honneur. introduced to me. The old gentleman his father is delighted with me; but I hate him; an ugly old thing. Wild. Hey, hey, Miss Notable! come back; pray madam, come back- [Forces her buck. Maria. Lord of Heaven, what do you want? Wild. Come, come; truce with your frolics, Miss Hoyden, and behave like a sensible girl; we have serious business with you. Maria. Have you? well, come, I will be sensible-there, I blow all my folly away-'tis gone, 'tis gone-and now I'll talk sense; come- -is that a sensible face? Wild. Poh, poh! be quiet and hear what we have to say to you. Maria. I will ; I am quiet.'Tis charming weather; it will be good for the country, this will. Wild. Poh, ridiculous! how can you be so silly? Maria. Bless me! I never saw any thing like you-there is no such thing as satisfying you-I am sure it was very good sense, what I saidPapa talks in that manner-Well, well, I'll be silent, then-I won't speak at all: will that satisfy you? [Looks sullen. Wild. Come, come, no more of this folly, but mind what is said to you. You have not seen your city lover, you say? [MARIA shrugs her shoulders and shakes her head.] Why don't you answer? Beau. My dear Maria put me out of pain. [MARIA shrugs her shoulders again. Wild. Poh, don't be so childish, but give a rational answer. Maria. Why, no then; no-no, no, no, no, no-I tell you no, no, no! Wild. Come, come, my little giddy sister, you must not be so flighty: behave sedately, and don't be a girl always. Maria. Why, don't I tell you I have not seen him-but I am to see him this very day, Beau. To see him this day, Maria! Maria. Ha, ha ! look there, brother; he is beginning again-But don't fright yourself, and I'll tell you all about it-My papa comes to me this morning by the by, he makes a fright of himself with this strange dress. Why does not he dress as other gentlemen do, brother? : Wild. He dresses like his brother fox-hunters in Wiltshire. Maria. But when he comes to town, I wish he would do as other gentlemen do here--I am almost ashamed of him. But he comes to me this morning. Hoic, hoic! our Moll. Where is the sly puss-Tallyho!-Did you want me, papa? Come hither, Moll, I'll gee you a husband Wild. Give us a description of him; I want to know him. Maria. Why, he looks like the picture of avarice, sitting with pleasure upon a bag of money, and trembling for fear any body should come and take it away. He has got square toed shoes, and little tiney buckles; a brown coat, with small round brass buttons, that looks as if it was new in my great grandmother's time, and his face all shrivelled and pinched with care; and he shakes his head like a Mandarine upon a chimney-piece Ay, ay, Sir Jasper, you are right'—and then he grins at me-'I profess she is a very pretty bale of goods. Ay, ay, and my son Bob is a very sensible lad-ay, ay, and I will underwrite their happiness for one and a half per cent.' Wild. Thank you, my dear girl! thank you for this account of my relations. Beau. Destruction to my hopes! surely my dear little angel, if you have any regard for me again. Maria. There, there, there he is frightened [Sings, Dearest creature, &c Wild. Psha! give over these airs-listen to me, and I'll instruct you how to manage them all. Maria, Oh, my dear brother! you are very good; but don't mistake yourself-though just come from a boarding-school, give me leave to manage for myself. There is in this case a man I like, and a man I don't like, It is not you I like, [TO BEAUFORT.] No, no; I hate you. But let this little head alone! I know what to do-I shall know how to prefer one, and get rid of the other. Beau. What will you do, Maria? Do not grieve me, Oh, relieve me, &c. Wild. Come, come, be serious Miss Pert, and I'll instruct you what to do: The old cit you say, admires you for your understanding; and his son would not marry you, unless he found you a girl of sense and spirit. Maria. Even so- this is the character of your giddy sister. Wild. Why then, I'll tell you. You shall make him hate you for a fool, and so let the refusal come from himself. Maria. But how? how, my dear brother? Tell me how? Wild. Why, you have seen a play, with me, where a man pretends to be a downright country oaf, in order to rule a wife, and have a wife? Maria. Very well. What then? what then? Oh! I have it; I understand you; say no more; 'tis charming! I like it of all things! I'll do it! I will; and I will so plague him, that he sha'n't know what to make of me. He shall be a very toad cater to me! the sour, the sweet, the bitter, he shall swallow all, and all shall work upon him alike for my diversion. Say nothing of it; 'tis all among ourselves; but I won't be cruel. I hate ill-nature; and then, who knows but I may like him? request Dap. You know I would not offer you a bad policy. Old Phil. I believe it. Well, step with me to my closet, and I will look at your policy. How much do you want upon it? Dap. Three thousand: You had better take the whole; there are very good names upon it. Old Phil. Well, well, step with me, and I'll talk to you. Quilldrive, step with those bills for acceptance. This way, Mr. Dapper, this way. [Exeunt. Quill. A miserly old rascal! digging, digging money out of the very hearts of mankind; constantly scraping together, and yet trembling with anxiety for fear of coming to want. A canting old hypocrite! and yet under his veil of sanctity, he has a liquorish tooth left-running to the other end of the town slily every evening; and there he has his solitary pleasures in holes and corners. GEORGE PHILPOT, peeping in. G. Phil. Hist, hist! Quilldrive! G. Phil. Is Square-toes at home? Quill. He is. G. Phil. Has he asked for me? Quill. He has. G. Phil. [Walks in on tip-toe.] Does he know I did not lie at home? Quill. No; I sunk that upon him. G. Phil. Well done! I'll give you a choice gelding to carry you to Dulwich of a SundayDamnation! Up all night, stript of nine hundred pounds; pretty well for one night! Piqued, repiqued, flammed, and capotted every deal!— Old Drybeard shall pay all-Is forty-seven good? No: fifty good? No, no; to the end of the chapter. Cruel luck! Damn me, 'tis life though! this is life! 'Sdeath, I hear him coming![Runs off, and peeps.] No, all's safe ; 1 must not be caught in these clothes, Quilldrive. Quill. How came it you did not leave them at Madam Corinna's, as you generally do? G. Phil. I was afraid of being too late for Old Square-toes; and so I whipt into a hackney coach, and drove with the windows up, as if I was afraid of a bum-bailiff. Pretty clothes, an't they? Quill. Ah! sir G. Phil. Reach me one of my mechanic cityfrocks-no-stay-'tis in the next room, an't it? Quill. Yes, sir. G. Phil. I'll run and slip it on in a twinkle. [Exit. Quill. Mercy on us; what a life does he lead! Old Codger within here will scrape together for him, and the moment young master comes to possession, Ill got, ill gone,' I warrant me : a hard card I have to play between them both; drudging for the old man, and pimping for the young one. The father is a reservoir of riches, and the son is a fountain to play it all away in vanity and folly! Enter GEORGE PHILPOT. G. Phil. Now I'm equipped for the cityDamn the city! I wish the papishes would set fire to it again—I hate to be beating the hoof here among them. Here comes father; no'tis Dapper-Quilldrive, I'll give you the gelding. Quill. Thank you, sir. Enter DAPPER. [Exit. Dap. Why, you look like a devil, George. G. Phil. Yes; I have been up all night, lost all my money, and I'm afraid I must smash for it. Dap. Smash for it-what have I let you into the secret for? have not I advised you to trade upon your own account and you feel the sweets of it. How much do you owe in the city? G. Phil. At least twenty thousand. Dap. Poh, that's nothing! Bring it up to fifty or sixty thousand, and then give them a good crash at once- I have insured the ship for Dup. Certainly. sir. G. Phil. Thinking a little of the main chance, Old Phil. That's right: it is a wide world, George. G. Phil. Yes, sir; but you instructed me early in the rudiments of trade. Old Phil. Ay, ay! I instilled good principles into thee. G. Pail. So you did, sir-Principal and interest is all I ever heard from him. [Åside.] Ishall never forget the story you recommended to my G. Phil. Adinirable! and then we shall come earliest notice, sir. upon the underwriters? Dap. Directly. G. Phil. My dear Dapper! [Embraces him. Dap. Yes; I do a dozen every year. How do you think I can live as I do, otherwise? G. Phil. Very true; shall you be at the club after 'Change? Dup. Without fail. G. Phil. That's right! it will be a full meeting: we shall have Nat Pigtail the dry-salter, there, and Bob Reptile the change-broker, and Sobersides the banker-we shall all be there. We shall have deep doings. Dap. Yes, yes. Well, a good morning; I must go now, and fill up a policy for a ship that has been lost three days. G. Phil. My dear Dapper! thou art the best of friends. Dap. Ay, I'll stand by you—It will be time enough for you to break, when you see your father near his end; then give them a smash; put yourself at the head of his fortune, and begin the world again-Good morning. [Exit DAP. G. Phil. Dapper, adieu !—Who now, in my situation, would envy any of your great folks at the court-end? a lord has nothing to depend upon but his estate- -He can't spend you a hundred thousand pounds of other people's money-no, no-I had rather be a little bobwig citizen in good credit, than a commissioner of the customs-Commissioner !-The king has not so good a thing in his gift, as a commission of bankruptcy-Don't we see them all with their country-seats at Hogsdon, and at Kentish-town, and at Newington-butts, and at Islington? with their little flying Mercuries, tipt on the top of the house, their Apollos, their Venuses, and their leaden Hercules's in the garden; and themselves sitting before the door, with pipes in their mouths, waiting for a good digestion-Zoons! here comes old dad. Now for a few dry maxims of left-handed wisdom, to prove myself a scoundrel in sentiment, and pass in his eyes for a hopeful young likely to do well in the world. man, Enter OLD PHILPOT. Old Phil. Twelve times twelve is 144. G. Phil. I'll attack him in his own way-Commission at two and a half per cent—hum! Old Phil. There he is, intent upon business! what, plodding, George? Old Phil. What was that George? It is quite out of my head. G. Phil. It intimated, sir, how Mr. Thomas Inkle of London, merchant, was cast away, and was afterwards protected by a young lady, who grew in love with him, and how he afterwards bargained with a planter to sell her for a slave. Old Phil. Ay, ay, [Laughs.] I recollect it now. G. Phil. And when she pleaded being with child by him, he was no otherwise moved than to raise his price, and make her turn to better account. Old Phil. [Bursts into a laugh.] I remember it-ha, ha! there was the very spirit of trade! ay, ay; ha, ha! G. Phil. That was calculation for you- G. Phil. The Rule of Three-If one gives me so much, what will two give me! Old Phil. Ay, ay! G. Phil. That was a hit, sir! men. [Laughs. G. Phil. That was having his wits about him. Old Phil. Ay, ay! it is a lesson for all young It was a hit indeed, ha, ha! [Both laugh. G. Phil. What an old negro it is! [Aside. Old Phil. Thou art a son after my own heart, George. G. Phil. Trade must be minded-A penny saved, is a penny gotOld Phil. Ay, ay! [Shakes his head, and looks cunning. G. Phil. He that hath money in his purse, won't want a head on his shoulders. Old Phil. Ay, ay! G. Phil. Rome was not built in a day-Fortunes are made by degrees-Pains to get, care to keep, and fear to lose Old Phil. Ay, ay! G. Phil. He that lies in bed, his estate feels it. Old Phil, Ay, ay; the good boy! G. Phil. The old curmudgeon [Aside.] thinks nothing mean that brings in an honest penny. Old Phil. The good boy! George, I have great hopes of thee. G. Phil. Thanks to your example; you have taught me to be cautious in this wide world— Love your neighbour, but don't pull down your hedge. Old Phil. I profess it is a wise saying; I never heard it before it is a wise saying; and shows G. Phil. There was your neighbour's son, Dick Worthy, who was always cramming his head with Greek and Latin at school; he wanted to borrow of me the other day; but I was too cunning. Old Phil. Ay, ay-Let him draw bills of exchange in Greek and Latin, and see where he will get a pound sterling for them. 'The Old Phil. Ay!——— [Shakes his head. G. Phil. I have, indeed, a remittance from Messina. That voyage yields me thirty per cent. profit-but this blow coming upon me Old Phil. Why, this is unlucky—————how much money? G. Phil. Three-and-twenty hundred. Old Phil. George, too many eggs in one basket! I'll tell thee, George; I expect sir Jasper Wilding here presently to conclude the treaty of marriage I have on foot for thee; then hush this up; say nothing of it; and in a day or two you pay these bills with his daughter's portion. G. Phil. The old rogue [Aside]! That will never do: I shall be blown upon 'ChangeAlvarada will pay in time-He has opened his affairs-He appears a good man. Old Phil. Does he? G. Phil. A great fortune left! will pay in he is? G. Phil. Nobody better. money? Suppose I lend this remittance from G. Phil. Ah, sir! Messina? G. Phil. So I told him-I went to him to his garret in the Minories; and there I found him in all his misery! and a fine scene it was-There was his wife in a corner of the room, at a wash-time, but I must crack before that. ing tub, up to the elbows in suds; a solitary Old Phil. It is unlucky! a good man you say pork-steak was dangling by a pack-thread before a melancholy fire; himself seated at a three legged table, writing a pamphlet against the German war; a child upon his left knee, his right leg employed in rocking a cradle with a bratling in it. And so there was business enough for them all-His wife rubbing away, [Mimicks a washerwoman;] and he writing on. king of Prussia shall have no more subsidies -Saxony shall be indemnified-He shan't have a foot in Silesia.' There is a sweet little baby! [To the child on his knee.]-then he rocked the cradle, hush ho! hush ho!-then twisted the grisken [Snaps his fingers] hush_ho! The Russians shall have Prussia,' [Writes.] The wife [Washes and sings.] He-There's a dear. Round goes the grisken again-[Snaps his fingers;] and Canada must be restored,' [Writes.]—And so you have a picture of the whole family. Old Phil. Ha, ha! What becomes of his Greek and Latin now? Fine words butter no parsnips He had no money from you, I suppose, George? G. Phil. Oh! no; Charity begins at home, says I. Old Phil. And it was wisely said-I have an excellent saying, when any man wants to borrow of me I am ready with my joke-A fool and his money are soon parted'-ha, ha, ha! G. Phil. Ha, ha -An old skin-flint! [Aside. Old Phil. Ay, ay, a fool and his money are soon parted-ha, ha, ha! G. Phil. Now, if I can wring a handsome sum out of him, it will prove the truth of what he says. [Aside.] And yet trade has its inconveniences Great houses stopping payment! Old Phil. Hey-what! you look chagrined -Nothing of that sort has happened to thee I hope? G. Phil. A great house at Cadiz-Don John de Alvarada-The Spanish galleons not making quick returns-and so my bills are come back. G. Phil. Seven hundred and fifty. Old Phil. Then you want fifteen hundred and fifty? G. Phil. Exactly. Old Phil. Don Álvarada is a good man, you say? G. Phil. Yes, sir. Old Phil. I will venture to lend the moneyyou must allow me commission upon those bills, for taking them up for honour of the drawer? G. Phil. Agreed. Old Phil. Lawful interest, while I am out of my money? G. Phil. I subscribe. Old Phil. A power of attorney to receive the monies from Alvarada, when he makes a pay ment? |