THE WORKS OF HENRY FIELDING

EDITED BY

GEORGE SAINTSBURY

IN TWELVE VOLUMES

VOL. XII. 

 * * * * *

MISCELLANIES

VOL. II. 

THE LIFE AND DEATH OF TOMTHUMB THE GREAT AND SOMEMISCELLANEOUS WRITINGSBY HENRY FIELDING ESQ. 

EDITED BY GEORGESAINTSBURY WITHILLUSTRATIONS BYHERBERT RAILTON& E. J. WHEELER. 

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CONTENTS OF VOL. II. 

THE AUTHOR'S FARCE, ACTS I. AND II. 

THE TRAGEDY OF TRAGEDIES; OR, THE LIFE AND DEATHOF TOM THUMB THE GREAT

PASQUIN; A DRAMATIC SATIRE ON THE TIMES

AN ESSAY ON CONVERSATION

THE TRUE PATRIOT, NO. XIII. 

THE COVENT-GARDEN JOURNAL, NOS. X. , XXXIII. 

FAMILIAR LETTER

 * * * * *

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 

PORTRAIT OF FIELDING BY HOGARTH

THE DEATH OF LORD GRIZZLE

HE ACQUAINTED THE DAMSELS THAT HE ANDHIS COMPANIONS HAD CARRIED THE OPERA. 

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THE AUTHOR'S FARCE;

[WITH A PUPPET-SHOW CALLED THE PLEASURES OF THE TOWN. ]

FIRST ACTED AT THE HAY-MARKET IN 1729, AND REVIVEDSOME YEARS AFTER AT DRURY-LANE, WHEN IT WASREVISED AND GREATLY ALTERED BY THE AUTHOR, ASNOW PRINTED. 

----------------Quis iniquaeTam patiens urbis, tam ferreus, ut teneat se?--_JUV_. Sat. I. 

PROLOGUE, SPOKEN BY MR JONES

Too long the Tragick Muse hath aw'd the stage, And frighten'd wives and children with her rage, Too long Drawcansir roars, Parthenope weeps, While ev'ry lady cries, and critick sleepsWith ghosts, rapes, murders, tender hearts they wound, Or else, like thunder, terrify with soundWhen the skill'd actress to her weeping eyes, With artful sigh, the handkerchief applies, How griev'd each sympathizing nymph appears!And box and gallery both melt in tearsOr when, in armour of Corinthian brass, Heroick actor stares you in the face, And cries aloud, with emphasis that's fit, onLiberty, freedom, liberty and Briton!While frowning, gaping for applause he stands, What generous Briton can refuse his hands?Like the tame animals design'd for show, You have your cues to clap, as they to bow, Taught to commend, your judgments have no share, By chance you guess aright, by chance you err. 

But, handkerchiefs and Britain laid aside, To-night we mean to laugh, and not to chide. 

In days of yore, when fools were held in fashion, Tho' now, alas! all banish'd from the nation, A merry jester had reform'd his lord, Who would have scorn'd the sterner Stoick's word

Bred in Democritus his laughing schools, Our author flies sad Heraclitus rules, No tears, no terror plead in his behalf, The aim of Farce is but to make you laughBeneath the tragick or the comick name, Farces and puppet shows ne'er miss of fameSince then, in borrow'd dress, they've pleas'd the town, Condemn them not, appearing in their own

Smiles we expect from the good-natur'd few, As ye are done by, ye malicious, do, And kindly laugh at him who laughs at you. 

PERSONS IN THE FARCE. 

MEN. 

_Luckless_, the Author and Master of the Show, . . . Mr MULLART. _Witmore_, his friend . . . Mr LACY. 

_Marplay, sen. _, Comedian . . . Mr REYNOLDS, _Marplay, jun. _, Comedian . . . Mr STOPLER. _Bookweight_, a Bookseller . . . Mr JONES. _Scarecrow_, Scribbler . . . Mr MARSHAL, _Dash_, " " . . . Mr HALLAM, _Quibble_, " " . . . Mr DOVE, _Blotpage_, " " . . . Mr WELLS, jun. _Index_ . . . --------. 

_Jack_, servant to Luckless . . . Mr ACHURCH. _Jack-Pudding_ . . . Mr REYNOLDS. _Bantomite_ . . . Mr MARSHAL. 

WOMEN. 

_Mrs Moneywood_, the Author's Landlady . . . Mrs MULLART. _Harriot_, her daughter. . . . Miss PALMS. 

ACT I. 

SCENE I. --LUCKLESS's _Room in_ Mrs MONEYWOOD'S_House_. --Mrs MONEYWOOD, HARRIOT, LUCKLESS. 

_Moneywood_. Never tell me, Mr Luckless, of your play, and yourplay. I tell you I must be paid. I would no more depend on abenefit-night of an unacted play than I would on a benefit-ticket inan undrawn lottery. Could I have guessed that I had a poet in myhouse! Could I have looked for a poet under laced clothes!

_Luck_. Why not? since you may often find poverty under them:nay, they are commonly the signs of it. And, therefore, why may not apoet be seen in them as well as a courtier?

_Money_. Do you make a jest of my misfortune, sir?

_Luck_. Rather my misfortune. I am sure I have a better title topoverty than you; for, notwithstanding the handsome figure I make, unless you are so good to invite me, I am afraid I shall scarceprevail on my stomach to dine to-day. 

_Money_. Oh, never fear that--you will never want a dinner tillyou have dined at all the eating-houses round. --No one shuts theirdoors against you the first time; and I think you are so kind, seldomto trouble them a second. 

_Luck_. No. --And if you will give me leave to walk out of yourdoors, the devil take me if ever I come into 'em again, _Money_. Pay me, sir, what you owe me, and walk away whenever youplease. 

_Luck_. With all my heart, madam; get me a pen and ink, and I'llgive you my note for it immediately. 

_Money_. Your note! who will discount it? Not your bookseller; forhe has as many of your notes as he has of your works; both goodlasting ware, and which are never likely to go out of his shop and hisscrutore. 

_Har_. Nay, but, madam, 'tis barbarous to insult him in thismanner. 

_Money_. No doubt you'll take his part. Pray get you about yourbusiness. I suppose he intends to pay me by ruining you. Get you inthis instant: and remember, if ever I see you with him again I'll turnyou out of doors. 

SCENE II--LUCKLESS, Mrs MONEYWOOD

_Luck_. Discharge all your ill-nature on me, madam, but sparepoor Miss Harriot. 

_Money_. Oh! then it is plain. I have suspected your familiaritya long while. You are a base man. Is it not enough to stay threemonths in my house without paying me a farthing, but you must ruin mychild?

_Luck_. I love her as my soul. Had I the world I'd give it herall. 

_Money_. But, as you happen to have nothing in the world, Idesire you would have nothing to say to her. I suppose you would havesettled all your castles in the air. Oh! I wish you had lived in oneof them, instead of my house. Well, I am resolved, when you have goneaway (which I heartily hope will be very soon) I'll hang over my doorin great red letters, "No lodgings for poets. " Sure never was such aguest as you have been. My floor is all spoiled with ink, my windowswith verses, and my door has been almost beat down with duns. 

_Luck_. Would your house had been beaten down, and everything butmy dear Harriot crushed under it!

_Money_. Sir, sir----

_Luck_. Madam, madam! I will attack you at your own weapons; Iwill pay you in your own coin. 

_Money_. I wish you'd pay me in any coin, sir. 

_Luck_. Look ye, madam, I'll do as much as a reasonable woman canrequire; I'll shew you all I have; and give you all I have too, if youplease to accept it. [_Turns his pockets Inside out_. 

_Money_. I will not be used in this manner. No, sir, I will bepaid, if there be any such thing as law. 

_Luck_. By what law you will put money into my pocket I know not;for I never heard of any one who got money by the law but thelawyers. I have told you already, and I tell you again, that the firstmoney I get shall be yours; and I have great expectations from myplay. In the mean time your staying here can be of no service, and youmay possibly drive some line thoughts out of my head. I would write alove scene, and your daughter would be more proper company, on thatoccasion, than you. 

_Money_. You would act a love-scene, I believe; but I shallprevent you; for I intend to dispose of myself before my daughter. 

_Luck_. Dispose of yourself!

_Money_. Yes, sir, dispose of myself. 'Tis very well known that Ihave had very good offers since my last dear husband died. I mighthave had an attorney of New Inn, or Mr Fillpot, the exciseman; yes, Ihad my choice of two parsons, or a doctor of physick; and yet Islighted them all; yes, I slighted them for--for--for you. 

_Luck_. For me?

_Money_. Yes, you have seen too visible marks of my passion; toovisible for my reputation. [_Sobbing_. 

_Luck_. I have heard very loud tokens of your passion; but Irather took it for the passion of anger than of love. 

_Money_. Oh! it was love, indeed. Nothing but love, upon mysoul!

_Luck_. The devil! This way of dunning is worse than the other. 

_Money_. If thou can'st not pay me in money, let me have it inlove. If I break through the modesty of my sex let my passion excuseit. I know the world will call it an impudent action; but if you willlet me reserve all I have to myself, I will make myself yours forever. 

_Luck_. Toll, loll, loll!

_Money_. And is this the manner you receive my declaration, youpoor beggarly fellow? You shall repent this; remember, you shallrepent it; remember that. I'll shew you the revenge of an injuredwoman. 

_Luck_. I shall never repent anything that rids me of you, I amsure. 

SCENE III. --LUCKLESS, HARRIOT. 

_Luck_. Dear Harriot!

_Har_. I have waited an opportunity to return to you. 

_Luck_. Oh! my dear, I am so sick!

_Har_. What's the matter?

_Luck_. Oh! your mother! your mother!

_Har_. What, has she been scolding ever since?

_Luck_. Worse, worse!

_Har_. Heaven forbid she should threaten to go to law with you. 

_Luck_. Oh, worse! worse! she threatens to go to church withme. She has made me a generous offer, that if I will but marry her shewill suffer me to settle all she has upon her. 

_Har_. Generous creature! Sure you will not resist the proposal?

_Luck_. Hum! what would you advise me to?

_Har_. Oh, take her, take her, by all means; you will be theprettiest, finest, loveliest, sweetest couple. Augh! what a delicatedish of matrimony you will make! Her age with your youth, her avaricewith your extravagance, and her scolding with your poetry. 

_Luck_. Nay, but I am serious, and I desire you would be so. Youknow my unhappy circumstances, and your mother's wealth. It would beat least a prudent match. 

_Har_. Oh! extremely prudent, ha, ha, ha! the world will say, Lard! who could have thought Mr Luckless had had so much prudence?This one action will overbalance all the follies of your life. 

_Luck_. Faith, I think it will: but, dear Harriot, how can Ithink of losing you for ever? And yet, as our affairs stand, I see nopossibility of our being happy together. It will be some pleasure, too, that I may have it in my power to serve you. Believe me, it iswith the utmost reluctance I think of parting with you. For if it wasin my power to have you----

_Har_. Oh, I am very much obliged to you; I believe you--Yes, youneed not swear, I believe you. 

_Luck_. And can you as easily consult prudence, and part with me?for I would not buy my own happiness at the price of yours. 

_Har_. I thank you, sir--Part with you--intolerable vanity!

_Luck_. Then I am resolved; and so, my good landlady, have at you. 

_Har_. Stay, sir, let me acquaint you with one thing--you are avillain! and don't think I'm vexed at anything, but that I should havebeen such a fool as ever to have had a good opinion of you. [_Crying_. 

_Luck_. Ha, ha, ha! Caught, by Jupiter! And did my dear Harriotthink me in earnest?

_Har_. And was you not in earnest?

_Luck_. What, to part with thee? A pretty woman will be sooner inearnest to part with her beauty, or a great man with his power. 

_Har_. I wish I were assured of the sincerity of your love. 

AIR. _Butter'd Pease_. 

_Luck_. Does my dearest Harriot ask What for love I would pursue? Would you, charmer, know what task I would undertake for you?

 Ask the bold ambitious, what He for honours would atchieve? Or the gay voluptuous, that Which he'd not for pleasure give?

 Ask the miser what he'd do To amass excessive gain? Or the saint, what he'd pursue, His wish'd heav'n to obtain?

 These I would attempt, and more-- For, oh! my Harriot is to me All ambition, pleasure, store, Or what heav'n itself can be!

 _Har_. Would my dearest Luckless know What his constant Harriot can Her tender love and faith to show For her dear, her only man?

 Ask the vain coquette what she For men's adoration would; Or from censure to be free, Ask the vile censorious prude. 

 In a coach and six to ride, What the mercenary jade, Or the widow to be bride To a brisk broad-shoulder'd blade. 

 All these I would attempt for thee, Could I but thy passion fix; Thy will my sole commander be, And thy arms my coach and six. 

_Money_. [_within_]. Harriot, Harriot. 

_Har_. Hear the dreadful summons! adieu. I will take the firstopportunity of seeing you again. 

_Luck_. Adieu, my pretty charmer; go thy ways for the first ofthy sex. 

SCENE IV. --LUCKLESS, JACK. 

_Luck_. So! what news bring you?

_Jack_. An't please your honour I have been at my lord's, and hislordship thanks you for the favour you have offered of reading yourplay to him; but he has such a prodigious deal of business, he begs tobe excused. I have been with Mr Keyber too--he made me no answer atall. Mr Bookweight will be here immediately. 

_Luck_. Jack. 

_Jack_. Sir. 

_Luck_. Fetch my other hat hither;--carry it to the pawnbroker's. 

_Jack_. To your honour's own pawnbroker!

_Luck_. Ay--and in thy way home call at the cook's shop. So, oneway or other, I find my head must always provide for my belly. 

SCENE V. --LUCKLESS, WITMORE. 

_Luck_. I am surprized! dear Witmore!

_Wit_. Dear Harry!

_Luck_. This is kind, indeed; but I do not more wonder at findinga man in this age who can be a friend to adversity, than that Fortuneshould be so much my friend as to direct you to me; for she is a ladyI have not been much indebted to lately. 

_Wit_. She who told me, I assure you, is one you have beenindebted to a long while. 

_Luck_. Whom do you mean?

_Wit_. One who complains of your unkindness in not visitingher--Mrs Lovewood. 

_Luck_. Dost thou visit there still, then?

_Wit_. I throw an idle hour away there sometimes. When I am inan ill-humour I am sure of feeding it there with all the scandal intown, for no bawd is half so diligent in looking after girls with anuncracked maidenhead as she in searching out women with crackedreputations. 

_Luck_. The much more infamous office of the two. 

_Wit_. Thou art still a favourer of the women, I find. 

_Luck_. Ay, the women and the muses--the high roads to beggary. 

_Wit_. What, art thou not cured of scribling yet?

_Luck_. No, scribling is as impossible to cure as the gout. 

_Wit_. And as sure a sign of poverty as the gout ofriches. 'Sdeath! in an age of learning and true politeness, where aman might succeed by his merit, there would be some encouragement. Butnow, when party and prejudice carry all before them; when learning isdecried, wit not understood; when the theatres are puppet-shows, andthe comedians ballad-singers; when fools lead the town, would a manthink to thrive by his wit? If you must write, write nonsense, writeoperas, write Hurlothrumbos, set up an oratory and preach nonsense, and you may meet with encouragement enough. Be profane, be scurrilous, be immodest: if you would receive applause, deserve to receivesentence at the Old Bailey; and if you would ride in a coach, deserveto ride in a cart. 

_Luck_. You are warm, my friend. 

_Wit_. It is because I am your friend. I cannot bear to hear theman I love ridiculed by fools--by idiots. To hear a fellow who, had hebeen born a Chinese, had starved for want of genius to have been eventhe lowest mechanick, toss up his empty noddle with an affecteddisdain of what he has not understood; and women abusing what theyhave neither seen nor heard, from an unreasonable prejudice to anhonest fellow whom they have not known. If thou wilt write against allthese reasons get a patron, be pimp to some worthless man of quality, write panegyricks on him, flatter him with as many virtues as he hasvices. Then, perhaps, you will engage his lordship, his lordshipengages the town on your side, and then write till your arms ake, sense or nonsense, it will all go down. 

_Luck_. Thou art too satirical on mankind. It is possible tothrive in the world by justifiable means. 

_Wit_. Ay, justifiable, and so they are justifiable bycustom. What does the soldier or physician thrive by butslaughter?--the lawyer but by quarrels?--the courtier but bytaxes?--the poet but by flattery? I know none that thrive by profitingmankind, but the husbandman and the merchant: the one gives you thefruit of your own soil, the other brings you those from abroad; andyet these are represented as mean and mechanical, and the others ashonourable and glorious. 

_Luck_. Well; but prithee leave railing, and tell me what youwould advise me to do. 

_Wit_. Do! why thou art a vigorous young fellow, and there arerich widows in town. 

_Luck_. But I am already engaged. 

_Wit_. Why don't you marry then--for I suppose you are not madenough to have any engagement with a poor mistress?

_Luck_. Even so, faith; and so heartily that I would not changeher for the widow of a Croesus. 

_Wit_. Now thou art undone, indeed. Matrimony clenches ruinbeyond retrieval. What unfortunate stars wert thou born under? Was itnot enough to follow those nine ragged jades the muses, but you mustfasten on some earth-born mistress as poor as them?

_Mar. Jun_. [_within_]. Order my chairman to call on me atSt James's. --No, let them stay. 

_Wit_. Heyday, whom the devil have we here?

_Luck_. The young captain, sir; no less a person, I assure you. 

SCENE VI. --LUCKLESS, WITMORE, MARPLAY, jun. 

_Mar. Jun_. Mr Luckless, I kiss your hands--Sir, I am your mostobedient humble servant; you see, Mr Luckless, what power you haveover me. I attend your commands, though several persons of qualityhave staid at court for me above this hour. 

_Luck_. I am obliged to you--I have a tragedy for your house, MrMarplay. 

_Mar. Jun_. Ha! if you will send it to me, I will give you myopinion of it; and if I can make any alterations in it that will befor its advantage, I will do it freely. 

_Wit_. Alterations, sir?

_Mar. Jun_. Yes, sir, alterations--I will maintain it. Let aplay be never so good, without alteration it will do nothing. 

_Wit_. Very odd indeed!

_Mar. Jun_. Did you ever write, sir?

_Wit_. No, sir, I thank Heaven. 

_Mar. Jun_. Oh! your humble servant--your very humble servant, sir. When you write yourself, you will find the necessity ofalterations. Why, sir, would you guess that I had altered Shakspeare?

_Wit_. Yes, faith, sir, no one sooner. 

_Mar. Jun_. Alack-a-day! Was you to see the plays when they arebrought to us--a parcel of crude undigested stuff. We are the persons, sir, who lick them into form--that mould them into shape. The poetmake the play indeed! the colourman might be as well said to make thepicture, or the weaver the coat. My father and I, sir, are a couple ofpoetical tailors. When a play is brought us, we consider it as atailor does his coat: we cut it, sir--we cut it; and let me tell youwe have the exact measure of the town; we know how to fit theirtaste. The poets, between you and me, are a pack of ignorant----

_Wit_. Hold, hold, sir. This is not quite so civil to MrLuckless; besides, as I take it, you have done the town the honour ofwriting yourself. 

_Mar. Jun_. Sir, you are a man of sense, and express yourselfwell. I did, as you say, once make a small sally into Parnassus--tooka sort of flying leap over Helicon; but if ever they catch me thereagain--sir, the town have a prejudice to my family; for, if any playcould have made them ashamed to damn it, mine must. It was all overplot. It would have made half a dozen novels: nor was it crammed witha pack of wit-traps, like Congreve and Wycherly, where every one knowswhen the joke was coming. I defy the sharpest critick of them all tohave known when any jokes of mine were coming. The dialogue was plain, easy, and natural, and not one single joke in it from the beginning tothe end: besides, sir, there was one scene of tender melancholyconversation--enough to have melted a heart of stone; and yet theydamned it--and they damned themselves; for they shall have no more ofmine. 

_Wit_. Take pity on the town, sir. 

_Mar. Jun_. I! No, sir, no. I'll write no more. No more; unlessI am forced to it. 

_Luck_. That's no easy thing, Marplay. 

_Mar. Jun_. Yes, sir. Odes, odes, a man may be obliged to writethose, you know. 

_Luck_, and _Wit_. Ha, ha, ha! that's true indeed. 

_Luck_. But about my tragedy, Mr Marplay. 

_Mar. Jun_. I believe my father is at the playhouse: if youplease, we will read it now; but I must call on a young ladyfirst--Hey, who's there? Is my footman there? Order my chair to thedoor. Your servant, gentlemen. --_Caro vien_. [_Exit, singing_. 

_Wit_. This is the most finished gentleman I ever saw; and hathnot, I dare swear, his equal. 

_Luck_. If he has, here he comes. 

SCENE VII. --LUCKLESS, WITMORE, BOOKWEIGHT. 

_Luck_. Mr Bookweight, your very humble servant. 

_Book_. I was told, sir, that you had particular business withme. 

_Luck_. Yes, Mr Bookweight; I have something to put into yourhands. I have a play for you, Mr Bookweight. 

_Book_. Is it accepted, sir?

_Luck_. Not yet. 

_Book_. Oh, sir! when it is, it will be then time enough to talkabout it. A play, like a bill, is of no value till it is accepted; norindeed when it is, very often. Besides, sir, our playhouses are grownso plenty, and our actors so scarce, that really plays are become verybad commodities. But pray, sir, do you offer it to the players or thepatentees?

_Luck_. Oh! to the players, certainly. 

_Book_. You are in the right of that. But a play which will do onthe stage will not always do for us; there are your acting plays andyour reading plays. 

_Wit_. I do not understand that distinction. 

_Book_. Why, sir, your acting play is entirely supported by themerit of the actor; in which case, it signifies very little whetherthere be any sense in it or no. Now, your reading play is of adifferent stamp, and must have wit and meaning in it. These latter Icall your substantive, as being able to support themselves. Theformer are your adjective, as what require the buffoonery and gesturesof an actor to be joined with them to shew their signification. 

_Wit_. Very learnedly defined, truly. 

_Luck_. Well, but, Mr Bookweight, will you advance fifty guineason my play?

_Book_. Fifty guineas! Yes, sir. You shall have them with all myheart, if you will give me security for them. Fifty guineas for aplay! Sir, I would not give fifty shillings. 

_Luck_. 'Sdeath, sir! do you beat me down at this rate?

_Book_. No, nor fifty farthings. Fifty guineas! Indeed your nameis well worth that. 

_Luck_. Jack, take this worthy gentleman and kick him downstairs. 

_Book_. Sir, I shall make you repent this. 

_Jack_. Come, sir, will you please to brush?

_Book_. Help! murder! I'll have the law of you, sir. 

_Luck_. Ha, ha, ha!

SCENE VIII. --LUCKLESS, WITMORE, MRS MONEYWOOD. 

_Money_. What noise is this? It is a very fine thing, truly, MrLuckless, that you will make these uproars in my house. 

_Luck_. If you dislike it, it is in your power to drown a muchgreater. Do you but speak, madam, and I am sure no one will be heardbut yourself. 

_Money_. Very well, indeed! fine reflexions on my character! Sir, sir, all the neighbours know that I have been as quiet a woman as everlived in the parish. I had no noises in my house till you came. Wewere the family of love. But you have been a nusance to the wholeneighbourhood. While you had money, my doors were thundered at everymorning at four and five, by coachmen and chairmen; and since you havehad none, my house has been besieged all day by creditors andbailiffs. Then there's the rascal your man; but I will pay the dog, Iwill scour him. Sir, I am glad you are a witness of his abuses of me. 

_Wit_. I am indeed, madam, a witness how unjustly he has abusedyou. [JACK _whispers_ LUCKLESS. 

_Luck_. Witmore, excuse me a moment. 

SCENE IX. --Mrs MONEYWOOD, WITMORE. 

_Money_. Yes, sir; and, sir, a man that has never shewn one thecolour of his money. 

_Wit_. Very hard, truly. How much may he be in your debt, pray?Because he has ordered me to pay you. 

_Money_. Ay! sir, I wish he had. 

_Wit_. I am serious, I assure you. 

_Money_. I am very glad to hear it, sir. Here is the bill as wesettled it this very morning. I always thought, indeed, Mr Lucklesshad a great deal of honesty in his principles: any man may beunfortunate; but I knew when he had money I should have it; and whatsignifies dunning a man when he hath it not? Now that is a way withsome people which I could never come in to. 

_Wit_. There, madam, is your money. You may give Mr Luckless thereceipt. 

_Money_. Sir, I give you both a great many thanks. I am sure itis almost as charitable as if you gave it me; for I am to make up asum to-morrow morning. Well, if Mr Luckless was but a little sobererI should like him for a lodger exceedingly: for I must say, I thinkhim a very pleasant good-humoured man. 

SCENE X. --LUCKLESS, WITMORE, MONEYWOOD. 

_Luck_. Those are words I never heard out of that mouth before. 

_Money_. Ha, ha, ha! you are pleased to be merry: ha, ha!

_Luck_. Why, Witmore, thou hast the faculty opposite to that of awitch, and canst lay a tempest. I should as soon have imagined one mancould have stopt a cannon-ball in its full force as her tongue. 

_Money_. Ha, ha, ha! he is the best company in the world, sir, and so full of his similitudes!

_Wit_. Luckless, good morrow; I shall see you soon again. 

_Luck_. Let it be soon, I beseech you; for thou hast brought acalm into this house that was scarce ever in it before. 

SCENE XI. --LUCKLESS, MRS MONEYWOOD, JACK. 

_Money_. Well, Mr Luckless, you are a comical man, to give onesuch a character to a stranger. 

_Luck_. The company is gone, madam; and now, like true man andwife, we may fall to abusing one another as fast as we please. 

_Money_. Abuse me as you please, so you pay me, sir. 

_Luck_. 'Sdeath! madam, I will pay you. 

_Money_. Nay, sir, I do not ask it before it is due. I don'tquestion your payment at all: if you was to stay in my house thisquarter of a year, as I hope you will, I should not ask you for afarthing. 

_Luck_. Toll, loll, loll. --But I shall have her begin with herpassion immediately; and I had rather be the object of her rage for ayear than of her love for half an hour. 

_Money_. But why did you choose to surprise me with my money? Whydid you not tell me you would pay me?

_Luck_. Why, have I not told you?

_Money_. Yes, you told me of a play, and stuff: but you nevertold me you would order a gentleman to pay me. A sweet, pretty, good-humoured gentleman he is, heaven bless him! Well, you havecomical ways with you: but you have honesty at the bottom, and I'msure the gentleman himself will own I gave you that character. 

_Luck_. Oh! I smell you now. --You see, madam, I am better than myword to you: did he pay it you in gold or silver?

_Money_. All pure gold. 

_Luck_. I have a vast deal of silver, which he brought me, within; will you do me the favour of taking it in silver? that will beof use to you in the shop too. 

_Money_. Anything to oblige you, sir. 

_Luck_. Jack, bring out the great bag, number one. Please totell the money, madam, on that table. 

_Money_. It's easily told: heaven knows there's not so much on't. 

_Jack_. Sir, the bag is so heavy, I cannot bring it in. 

_Luck_. Why, then, come and help to thrust a heavier bag out. 

_Money_. What do you mean?

_Luck_. Only to pay you in my bed-chamber. 

_Money_. Villain, dog, I'll swear a robbery, and have you hanged:rogues, villains!

_Luck_. Be as noisy as you please--[_Shuts the door_. ] Jack, call a coach; and, d' ye hear? get up behind it and attend me. 

ACT II. 

SCENE I. --_The Playhouse_. --LUCKLESS, MARPLAY, senior, MARPLAY, junior. 

_Luck_. [_Reads_. ]

 "Then hence my sorrow, hence my ev'ry fear; No matter where, so we are bless'd together. With thee, the barren rocks, where not one step Of human race lies printed in the snow, Look lovely as the smiling infant spring. "

_Mar. Sen_. Augh! will you please to read that again, sir?

_Luck_. "Then hence my sorrow, hence my ev'ry fear. "

_Mar. Sen_. "Then hence my sorrow. "--Horror is a much betterword. --And then in the second line--"No matter where, so we arebless'd together. "--Undoubtedly, it should be, "No matter where, sosomewhere we're together. " Where is the question, somewhere is theanswer. --Read on, sir. 

_Luck_. "With thee, ----"

_Mar. Sen_. No, no, I could alter those lines to a much betteridea. 

 "With thee, the barren blocks, where not a bit Of human face is painted on the bark, Look green as Covent-garden in the spring. "

_Luck_. Green as Covent-garden!

_Mar. Jun_. Yes, yes; Covent-garden market, where they sellgreens. 

_Luck_. Monstrous!

_Mar. Sen_. Pray, sir, read on. 

_Luck_. 

 "LEANDRA: oh, my Harmonio, I could hear thee still; The nightingale to thee sings out of tune, While on thy faithful breast my head reclines, The downy pillow's hard; while from thy lips I drink delicious draughts of nectar down, Falernian wines seem bitter to my taste. "

_Mar. Jun_. Here's meat, drink, singing, and lodging, egad. 

_Luck_. He answers. 

_Mar. Jun_. But, sir----

_Luck_. 

 "Oh, let me pull thee, press thee to my heart, Thou rising spring of everlasting sweets! Take notice, Fortune, I forgive thee all! Thou'st made Leandra mine. Thou flood of joy Mix with my soul, and rush thro' ev'ry vein. "

_Mar. Sen_. Those two last lines again if you please. 

_Luck_. "Thou'st made, " &c. 

_Mar. Jun_. 

 "----Thou flood of joy, Mix with my soul and rush thro' ev'ry vein. "

Those are two excellent lines indeed: I never writbetter myself: but, Sar----

_Luck_. 

 "Leandra's mine, go bid the tongue of fate Pronounce another word of bliss like that; Search thro' the eastern mines and golden shores, Where lavish Nature pours forth all her stores; For to my lot could all her treasures fall, I would not change Leandra for them all. "

There ends act the first, and such an act as, I believe, never was onthis stage yet. 

_Mar. Jun_. Nor never will, I hope. 

_Mar. Sen_. Pray, sir, let me look at one thing. "Falernianwines seem bitter to my taste. "

Pray, sir, what sort of wines may your Falernian be? for I never heardof them before; and I am sure, as I keep the best company, if therehad been such sorts of wines, I should have tasted them. Tokay I havedrank, and Lacrimas I have drank, but what your Falernian is, thedevil take me if I can tell. 

_Mar. Jun_. I fancy, father, these wines grow at the top ofParnassus. 

_Luck_. Do they so, Mr Pert? why then I fancy you have nevertasted them. 

_Mar. Sen_. Suppose you should say the wines of Cape are bitterto my taste. 

_Luck_. Sir, I cannot alter it. 

_Mar. Sen_. Nor we cannot act it. It won't do, sir, and so youneed give yourself no farther trouble about it. 

_Luck_. What particular fault do you find?

_Mar. Jun_. Sar, there's nothing that touches me, nothing that iscoercive to my passions. 

_Luck_. Fare you well, sir: may another play be coercive to yourpassions. 

SCENE II. --MARPLAY, senior, MARPLAY, junior. 

_Mar. Sen_. Ha, ha, ha!

_Mar. Jun_. What do you think of the play?

_Mar. Sen_. It may be a very good one, for aught I know: but I amresolved, since the town will not receive any of mine, they shall havenone from any other. I'll keep them to their old diet. 

_Mar. Jun_. But suppose they won't feed on't?

_Mar. Sen_. Then it shall be crammed down their throats. 

_Mar. Jun_. I wish, father, you would leave me that art for alegacy, since I am afraid I am like to have no other from you. 

_Mar. Sen_. 'Tis buff, child, 'tis buff--true Corinthian brass;and, heaven be praised, tho' I have given thee no gold, I have giventhee enough of that, which is the better inheritance of the two. Goldthou might'st have spent, but this is a lasting estate that will stickby thee all thy life. 

_Mar. Jun_. What shall be done with that farce which was damnedlast night?

_Mar. Sen_. Give it them again to-morrow. I have told somepersons of quality that it is a good thing, and I am resolved not tobe in the wrong: let us see which will be weary first, the town ofdamning, or we of being damned. 

_Mar. Jun_. Rat the town, I say. 

_Mar. Sen_. That's a good boy; and so say I: but, prithee, whatdidst thou do with the comedy which I gave thee t'other day, that Ithought a good one?

_Mar. Jun_. Did as you ordered me; returned it to the author, andtold him it would not do. 

_Mar. Sen_. You did well. If thou writest thyself, and that Iknow thou art very well qualified to do, it is thy interest to keepback all other authors of any merit, and be as forward to advancethose of none. 

_Mar. Jun_. But I am a little afraid of writing; for my writings, you know, have fared but ill hitherto. 

_Mar. Sen_. That is because thou hast a little mistaken themethod of writing. The art of writing, boy, is the art of stealing oldplays, by changing the name of the play, and new ones, by changing thename of the author. 

_Mar. Jun_. If it was not for these cursed hisses and catcalls----

_Mar. Sen_. Harmless musick, child, very harmless musick, andwhat, when one is but well seasoned to it, has no effect at all: formy part, I have been used to them. 

_Mar. Jun_. Ay, and I have been used to them too, for thatmatter. 

_Mar. Sen_. And stood them bravely too. Idle young actors arefond of applause, but, take my word for it, a clap is a mighty silly, empty thing, and does no more good than a hiss; and, therefore, if anyman loves hissing, he may have his three shillings worth at mewhenever he pleases. [_Exeunt_. 

SCENE III. --_A Room in_ BOOKWEIGHT'S _house_. --DASH, BLOTPAGE, QUIBBLE, _writing at several tables_. 

_Dash_. Pox on't, I'm as dull as an ox, tho' I have not a bit ofone within me. I have not dined these two days, and yet my head is asheavy as any alderman's or lord's. I carry about me symbols of all theelements; my head is as heavy as water, my pockets are as light asair, my appetite is as hot as fire, and my coat is as dirty as earth. 

_Blot_. Lend me your Bysshe, Mr Dash, I want a rhime for wind. 

_Dash_. Why there's blind, and kind, and behind, and find, andmind: it is of the easiest termination imaginable; I have had it fourtimes in a page. 

_Blot_. None of those words will do. 

_Dash_. Why then you may use any that end in ond, or and, orend. I am never so exact: if the two last letters are alike, it willdo very well. Read the verse. 

_Blot_. "Inconstant as the seas or as the wind. "

_Dash_. What would you express in the next line?

_Blot_. Nay, that I don't know, for the sense is out already. Iwould say something about inconstancy. 

_Dash_. I can lend you a verse, and it will do very well too. 

 "Inconstancy will never have an end. "

End rhimes very well with wind. 

_Blot_. It will do well enough for the middle of a poem. 

_Dash_. Ay, ay, anything will do well enough for the middle of apoem. If you can but get twenty good lines to place at the beginningfor a taste, it will sell very well. 

_Quib_. So that, according to you, Mr Dash, a poet acts prettymuch on the same principles with an oister-woman. 

_Dash_. Pox take your simile, it has set my chaps a watering: butcome, let us leave off work for a while, and hear Mr Quibble's song. 

_Quib_. My pipes are pure and clear, and my stomach is as hollowas any trumpet in Europe. 

_Dash_. Come, the song. 

SONG. 

 AIR. _Ye Commons and Peers_. 

 How unhappy's the fate To live by one's pate, And be forced to write hackney for bread! An author's a joke To all manner of folk, Wherever he pops up his head, his head, Wherever he pops up his head. 

 Tho' he mount on that hack, Old Pegasus' back, And of Helicon drink till he burst, Yet a curse of those streams, Poetical dreams, They never can quench one's thirst, &c. 

 Ah! how should he fly On fancy so high, When his limbs are in durance and hold? Or how should he charm, With genius so warm, When his poor naked body's a cold, &c. 

SCENE IV. --BOOKWEIGHT, DASH, QUIBBLE, BLOTPAGE. 

_Book_. Fie upon it, gentlemen! what, not at your pens? Do youconsider, Mr Quibble, that it is a fortnight since your Letter to aFriend in the Country was published? Is it not high time for an Answerto come out? At this rate, before your Answer is printed, your Letterwill be forgot. I love to keep a controversy up warm. I have hadauthors who have writ a pamphlet in the morning, answered it in theafternoon, and answered that again at night. 

_Quib_. Sir, I will be as expeditious as possible: but it isharder to write on this side the question, because it is the wrongside. 

_Book_. Not a jot. So far on the contrary, that I have known someauthors choose it as the properest to shew their genius. But let mesee what you have produced; "With all deference to what that verylearned and most ingenious person, in his Letter to a Friend in theCountry, hath advanced. " Very well, sir; for, besides that, it maysell more of the Letter: all controversial writers should begin withcomplimenting their adversaries, as prize-fighters kiss before theyengage. Let it be finished with all speed. Well, Mr Dash, have youdone that murder yet?

_Dash_. Yes, sir, the murder is done; I am only about a few moralreflexions to place before it. 

_Book_. Very well: then Jet me have the ghost finished by thisday se'nnight. 

_Dash_. What sort of a ghost would you have this, sir? the lastwas a pale one. 

_Book_. Then let this be a bloody one. Mr Quibble, you may lay bythat life which you are about; for I hear the person is recovered, andwrite me out proposals for delivering five sheets of Mr Bailey'sEnglish Dictionary every week, till the whole be finished. If you donot know the form, you may copy the proposals for printing Bayle'sDictionary in the same manner. The same words will do for both. 

_Enter_ INDEX. 

So, Mr Index, what news with you?

_Index_. I have brought my bill, sir. 

_Book_. What's here? For fitting the motto of Risum teneatisAmici to a dozen pamphlets, at sixpence per each, six shillings; forOmnia vincit Amor, et nos cedamus Amori, sixpence; for Difficile estSatyram non scribere, sixpence. Hum! hum! hum!--sum total forthirty-six Latin mottoes, eighteen shillings; ditto English, oneshilling and ninepence; ditto Greek, four--four shillings. These Greekmottoes are excessively dear. 

_Ind_. If you have them cheaper at either of the universities, Iwill give you mine for nothing. 

_Book_. You shall have your money immediately; and pray remember, that I must have two Latin seditious mottoes and one Greek moral mottofor pamphlets by to-morrow morning. 

_Quib_. I want two Latin sentences, sir--one for page the fourthin the praise of loyalty, and another for page the tenth in praise ofliberty and property. 

_Dash_. The ghost would become a motto very well if you wouldbestow one on him. 

_Book_. Let me have them all. 

_Ind_. Sir, I shall provide them. Be pleased to look on that, sir, and print me five hundred proposals and as many receipts. 

_Book_. "Proposals for printing by subscription a New Translationof Cicero Of the Nature of the Gods, and his Tusculan Questions, byJeremy Index, Esq. " I am sorry you have undertaken this, for itprevents a design of mine. 

_Ind_. Indeed, sir, it does not; for you see all of the book thatI ever intend to publish. It is only a handsome way of asking one'sfriends for a guinea. 

_Book_. Then you have not translated a word of it, perhaps. 

_Ind_. Not a single syllable. 

_Book_. Well, you shall have your proposals forthwith: but Idesire you would be a little more reasonable in your bills for thefuture, or I shall deal with you no longer; for I have a certainfellow of a college, who offers to furnish me with second-hand mottoesout of the Spectator for twopence each. 

_Ind_. Sir, I only desire to live by my goods; and I hope youwill be pleased to allow some difference between a neat fresh piece, piping hot out of the classicks, and old threadbare worn-out stuffthat has past through every pedant's mouth and been as common at theuniversities as their whores. 

SCENE V. --BOOKWEIGHT, DASH, QUIBBLE, BLOTPAGE, SCARECROW. 

_Scare_. Sir, I have brought you a libel against the ministry. 

_Book_. Sir, I shall not take anything against them;--for I havetwo in the press already. [_Aside_. 

_Scare_. Then, sir, I have an Apology in defence of them. 

_Book_. That I shall not meddle with neither; they don't sell sowell. 

_Scare_. I have a translation of Virgil's Aeneid, with notes onit, if we can agree about the price. 

_Book_. Why, what price would you have?

_Scare_. You shall read it first, otherwise how will you know thevalue?

_Book_. No, no, sir, I never deal that way--a poem is a poem, anda pamphlet a pamphlet with me. Give me a good handsome large volume, with a full promising title-page at the head of it, printed on a goodpaper and letter, the whole well bound and gilt, and I'll warrant itsselling. You have the common error of authors, who think people buybooks to read. No, no, books are only bought to furnish libraries, aspictures and glasses, and beds and chairs, are for other rooms. Lookye, sir, I don't like your title-page: however, to oblige a youngbeginner, I don't care if I do print it at my own expence. 

_Scare_. But pray, sir, at whose expence shall I eat?

_Book_. At whose? Why, at mine, sir, at mine. I am as great afriend to learning as the Dutch are to trade: no one can want breadwith me who will earn it; therefore, sir, if you please to take yourseat at my table, here will be everything necessary provided for you:good milk porridge, very often twice a day, which is good wholesomefood and proper for students; a translator too is what I want atpresent, my last being in Newgate for shop-lifting. The rogue had atrick of translating out of the shops as well as the languages. 

_Scare_. But I am afraid I am not qualified for a translator, forI understand no language but my own. 

_Book_. What, and translate Virgil?

_Scare_. Alas! I translated him out of Dryden. 

_Book_. Lay by your hat, sir--lay by your hat, and take your seatimmediately. Not qualified!--thou art as well versed in thy trade asif thou hadst laboured in my garret these ten years. Let me tell you, friend, you will have more occasion for invention than learninghere. You will be obliged to translate books out of all languages, especially French, that were never printed in any language whatsoever. 

_Scare_. Your trade abounds in mysteries. 

_Book_. The study of bookselling is as difficult as the law: andthere are as many tricks in the one as the other. Sometimes we give aforeign name to our own labours, and sometimes we put our names to thelabours of others. Then, as the lawyers have John-a-Nokes andTom-a-Stiles, so we have Messieurs Moore near St Paul's and Smithnear the Royal Exchange. 

SCENE VI. --_To them_, LUCKLESS. 

_Luck_. Mr Bookweight, your servant. Who can form to himself anidea more amiable than of a man at the head of so many patriotsworking for the benefit of their country. 

_Book_. Truly, sir, I believe it is an idea more agreeable to youthan that of a gentleman in the Crown-office paying thirty or fortyguineas for abusing an honest tradesman. 

_Luck_. Pshaw! that was only jocosely done, and a man who livesby wit must not be angry at a jest. 

_Book_. Look ye, sir, if you have a mind to compromise thematter, and have brought me any money--

_Luck_. Hast thou been in thy trade so long, and talk of money toa modern author? You might as well have talked Latin or Greek tohim. I have brought you paper, sir. 

_Book_. That is not bringing me money, I own. Have you brought mean opera?

_Luck_. You may call it an opera if you will, but I call it apuppet-show. 

_Book_. A puppet-show!

_Luck_. Ay, a puppet show; and is to be played this night atDrury-lane playhouse. 

_Book_. A puppet-show in a playhouse!

_Luck_. Ay, why, what have been all the playhouses a long whilebut puppet-shows?

_Book_. Why, I don't know but it may succeed; at least if we canmake out a tolerable good title-page: so, if you will walk in, if Ican make a bargain with you I will. Gentlemen, you may go to dinner. 

SCENE VII. --_Enter_ JACK-PUDDING, Drummer, Mob. 

_Jack-P_. This is to give notice to all gentlemen, ladies, andothers, that at the Theatre Royal in Drury-lane, this evening, will beperformed the whole puppet-show called the Pleasures of the Town; inwhich will be shewn the whole court of nonsense, with abundance ofsinging, dancing, and several other entertainments: also the comicaland diverting humours of Some-body and No-body; Punch and his wifeJoan to be performed by figures, some of them six foot high. God savethe King. 

[_Drum beats_. 

SCENE VIII. --WITMORE _with a paper, meeting_ LUCKLESS. 

_Wit_. Oh! Luckless, I am overjoyed to meet you; here, take thispaper, and you will be discouraged from writing, I warrant you. 

_Luck_. What is it?--Oh! one of my play-bills. 

_Wit_. One of thy play-bills!

_Luck_. Even so--I have taken the advice you gave me thismorning. 

_Wit_. Explain. 

_Luck_. Why, I had some time since given this performance of mineto be rehearsed, and the actors were all perfect in their parts; butwe happened to differ about some particulars, and I had a design tohave given it over; 'till having my play refused by Marplay, I sentfor the managers of the other house in a passion, joined issue withthem, and this very evening it is to be acted. 

_Wit_. Well, I wish you success. 

_Luck_. Where are you going?

_Wit_. Anywhere but to hear you damned, which I must, was I to goto your puppet-show. 

_Luck_. Indulge me in this trial; and I assure thee, if it besuccessless, it shall be the last. 

_Wit_. On that condition I will; but should the torrent runagainst you, I shall be a fashionable friend and hiss with the rest. 

_Luck_. No, a man who could do so unfashionable and so generous athing as Mr Witmore did this morning----

_Wit_. Then I hope you will return it, by never mentioning it tome more. I will now to the pit. 

_Luck_. And I behind the scenes. 

SCENE IX. --LUCKLESS, HARRIOT. 

_Luck_. Dear Harriot!

_Har_. I was going to the playhouse to look after you--I amfrightened out of my wits--I have left my mother at home with thestrangest sort of man, who is inquiring after you: he has raised a mobbefore the door by the oddity of his appearance; his dress is likenothing I ever saw, and he talks of kings, and Bantam, and thestrangest stuff. 

_Luck_. What the devil can he be?

_Har_. One of your old acquaintance, I suppose, in disguise--oneof his majesty's officers with his commission in his pocket, I warranthim. 

_Luck_. Well, but have you your part perfect?

_Har_. I had, unless this fellow hath frightened it out of myhead again; but I am afraid I shall play it wretchedly. 

_Luck_. Why so?

_Har_. I shall never have assurance enough to go through with it, especially if they should hiss me. 

_Luck_. Oh! your mask will keep you in countenance, and as forhissing, you need not fear it. The audience are generally sofavourable to young beginners: but hist, here is your mother and shehas seen us. Adieu, my dear, make what haste you can to the playhouse. 

[_Exit_. 

SCENE X. --HARRIOT, MONEYWOOD. 

_Har_. I wish I could avoid her, for I suppose we shall have analarum. 

_Money_. So, so, very fine: always together, alwayscaterwauling. How like a hangdog he stole off; and it's well for himhe did, for I should have rung such a peal in his ears. --There's afriend of his at my house would be very glad of his company, and Iwish it was in my power to bring them together. 

_Har_. You would not surely be so barbarous. 

_Money_. Barbarous! ugh! You whining, puling fool! Hussey, youhave not a drop of my blood in you. What, you are in love, I suppose?

_Har_. If I was, madam, it would be no crime, _Money_. Yes, madam, but it would, and a folly too. No woman ofsense was ever in love with anything but a man's pocket. What, Isuppose he has filled your head with a pack of romantick stuff ofstreams and dreams, and charms and arms. I know this is the stuff theyall run on with, and so run into our debts, and run away with ourdaughters. Come, confess; are not you two to live in a wildernesstogether on love? Ah! thou fool! thou wilt find he will pay thee inlove just as he has paid me in money. If thou wert resolved to goa-begging, why did you not follow the camp? There, indeed, you mighthave carried a knapsack; but here you will have no knapsack tocarry. There, indeed, you might have had a chance of burying half ascore husbands in a campaign; whereas a poet is a long-lived animal;you have but one chance of burying him, and that is, starving him. 

_Har_. Well, madam, and I would sooner starve with the man I lovethan ride in a coach and six with him I hate: and, as for his passion, you will not make me suspect that, for he hath given me such proofson't. 

_Money_. Proofs! I shall die. Has he given you proofs of love?

_Har_. All that any modest woman can require. 

_Money_. If he has given you all a modest woman can require, I amafraid he has given you more than a modest woman should take: becausehe has been so good a lodger, I suppose I shall have some more of thefamily to keep. It is probable I shall live to see half a dozengrandsons of mine in Grub-street. 

SCENE XI. --MONEYWOOD, HARRIOT, JACK. 

_Jack_. Oh, madam! the man whom you took for a bailiff iscertainly some great man; he has a vast many jewels and other finethings about him; he offered me twenty guineas to shew him my master, and has given away so much money among the chairmen, that some folksbelieve he intends to stand member of parliament for Westminster. 

_Money_. Nay, then, I am sure he is worth inquiring into. So, d'ye hear, sirrah, make as much haste as you can before me, and desirehim to part with no more money till I come. 

_Har_. So, now my mother is in pursuit of money, I may securelygo in pursuit of my lover: and I am mistaken, good mamma, if e'en youwould not think that the better pursuit of the two. 

 In generous love transporting raptures lie, Which age, with all its treasures, cannot buy. 

THETRAGEDY OF TRAGEDIES;OR, THELIFE AND DEATH OF TOM THUMBTHE GREAT. 

WITH THE ANNOTATIONS OF H. SCRIBLERUSSECUNDUS

FIRST ACTED IN 1730, AND ALTERED IN 1731. 

H. SCRIBLERUS SECUNDUS, HIS PREFACE. 

THE town hath seldom been more divided in its opinion than concerningthe merit of the following scenes. While some publickly affirmed thatno author could produce so fine a piece but Mr P----, others have withas much vehemence insisted that no one could write anything so bad butMr F----. 

Nor can we wonder at this dissension about its merit, when the learnedwould have not unanimously decided even the very nature of thistragedy. For though most of the universities in Europe have honouredit with the name of "Egregium et maximi pretii opus, tragoediis tamantiquis quam novis longe anteponendum;" nay, Dr B---- hathpronounced, "Citius Maevii Aeneadem quam Scribleri istrus tragoediamhanc crediderium, cujus autorem Senecam ipsum tradidisse hauddubitarim:" and the great professor Burman hath styled Tom Thumb"Heroum omnium tragicorum facile principem:" nay, though it hath, among other languages, been translated into Dutch, and celebrated withgreat applause at Amsterdam (where burlesque never came) by the titleof Mynheer Vander Thumb, the burgomasters receiving it with thatreverent and silent attention which becometh an audience at a deeptragedy. Notwithstanding all this, there have not been wanting somewho have represented these scenes in a ludicrous light; and Mr D----hath been heard to say, with some concern, that he wondered a tragicaland Christian nation would permit a representation on its theatre sovisibly designed to ridicule and extirpate everything that is greatand solemn among us. 

This learned critick and his followers were led into so great an errorby that surreptitious and piratical copy which stole last year intothe world; with what injustice and prejudice to our author will beacknowledged, I hope, by every one who shall happily peruse thisgenuine and original copy. Nor can I help remarking, to the greatpraise of our author, that, however imperfect the former was, eventhat faint resemblance of the true Tom Thumb contained sufficientbeauties to give it a run of upwards of forty nights to the politestaudiences. But, notwithstanding that applause which it received fromall the best judges, it was as severely censured by some few bad ones, and, I believe rather maliciously than ignorantly, reported to havebeen intended a burlesque on the loftiest parts of tragedy, anddesigned to banish what we generally call fine things from the stage. 

Now, if I can set my country right in an affair of this importance, Ishall lightly esteem any labour which it may cost. And this I therather undertake, first, as it is indeed in some measure incumbent onme to vindicate myself from that surreptitious copy before mentioned, published by some ill-meaning people under my name; secondly, asknowing myself more capable of doing justice to our author than anyother man, as I have given myself more pains to arrive at a thoroughunderstanding of this little piece, having for ten years together readnothing else; in which time, I think, I may modestly presume, with thehelp of my English dictionary, to comprehend all the meanings of everyword in it. 

But should any error of my pen awaken Clariss. Bentleium to enlightenthe world with his annotations on our author, I shall not think thatthe least reward or happiness arising to me from these my endeavours. 

I shall waive at present what hath caused such feuds in the learnedworld, whether this piece was originally written by Shakspeare, thoughcertainly that, were it true, must add a considerable share to itsmerit, especially with such who are so generous as to buy and commendwhat they never read, from an implicit faith in the author only: afaith which our age abounds in as much as it can be called deficientin any other. 

Let it suffice, that THE TRAGEDY OF TRAGEDIES; or, THE LIFE AND DEATHOF TOM THUMB, was written in the reign of queen Elizabeth. Nor can theobjection made by Mr D----, that the tragedy must then have beenantecedent to the history, have any weight, when we consider that, though the HISTORY OF TOM THUMB, printed by and for Edward M----r, atthe Looking-glass on London-bridge, be of a later date, still must wesuppose this history to have been transcribed from some other, unlesswe suppose the writer thereof to be inspired: a gift very faintlycontended for by the writers of our age. As to this history's notbearing the stamp of second, third, or fourth edition, I see butlittle in that objection; editions being very uncertain lights tojudge of books by; and perhaps Mr M----r may have joined twentyeditions in one, as Mr C----l hath ere now divided one into twenty. 

Nor doth the other argument, drawn from the little care our authorhath taken to keep up to the letter of this history, carry any greaterforce. Are there not instances of plays wherein the history is soperverted, that we can know the heroes whom they celebrate by no othermarks than their names? nay, do we not find the same character placedby different poets in such different lights, that we can discover notthe least sameness, or even likeness, in the features? The Sophonisbaof Mairet and of Lee is a tender, passionate, amorous mistress ofMassinissa: Corneille and Mr Thomson give her no other passion but thelove of her country, and make her as cool in her affection toMassinissa as to Syphax. In the two latter she resembles the characterof queen Elizabeth; in the two former she is the picture of Mary queenof Scotland. In short, the one Sophonisba is as different from theother as the Brutus of Voltaire is from the Marius, jun. , of Otway, oras the Minerva is from the Venus of the ancients. 

Let us now proceed to a regular examination of the tragedy before us, in which I shall treat separately of the Fable, the Moral, theCharacters, the Sentiments, and the Diction. And first of the

Fable; which I take to be the most simple imaginable; and, to use thewords of an eminent author, "one, regular, and uniform, not chargedwith a multiplicity of incidents, and yet affording severalrevolutions of fortune, by which the passions may be excited, varied, and driven to their full tumult of emotion. "--Nor is the action ofthis tragedy less great than uniform. The spring of all is the loveof Tom Thumb for Huncamunca; which caused the quarrel between theirmajesties in the first act; the passion of Lord Grizzle in the second;the rebellion, fall of Lord Grizzle and Glumdalca, devouring of TomThumb by the cow, and that bloody catastrophe, in the third. 

Nor is the Moral of this excellent tragedy less noble than the Fable;it teaches these two instructive lessons, viz. , that human happinessis exceeding transient; and that death is the certain end of all men:the former whereof is inculcated by the fatal end of Tom Thumb; thelatter, by that of all the other personages. 

The Characters are, I think, sufficiently described in the dramatispersonae; and I believe we shall find few plays where greater care istaken to maintain them throughout, and to preserve in every speechthat characteristical mark which distinguishes them from eachother. "But (says Mr D----) how well doth the character of Tom Thumb, whom we must call the hero of this tragedy, if it hath any hero, agreewith the precepts of Aristotle, who defineth 'Tragedy to be theimitation of a short but perfect action, containing a just greatnessin itself'? &c. What greatness can be in a fellow whom historyrelateth to have been no higher than a span?" This gentleman seemethto think, with serjeant Kite, that the greatness of a man's soul is inproportion to that of his body; the contrary of which is affirmed byour English physiognomical writers. Besides, if I understand Aristotleright, he speaketh only of the greatness of the action, and not of theperson. 

As for the Sentiments and the Diction, which now only remain to bespoken to; I thought I could afford them no stronger justificationthan by producing parallel passages out of the best of our Englishwriters. Whether this sameness of thought and expression, which Ihave quoted from them, proceeded from an agreement in their way ofthinking, or whether they have borrowed from our author, I leave thereader to determine. I shall adventure to affirm this of theSentiments of our author, that they are generally the most familiarwhich I have ever met with, and at the same time delivered with thehighest dignity of phrase; which brings me to speak of hisdiction. Here I shall only beg one postulatum, viz. , That the greatestperfection of the language of a tragedy is, that it is not to beunderstood; which granted (as I think it must be), it will necessarilyfollow that the only way to avoid this is by being too high or too lowfor the understanding, which will comprehend everything within itsreach. Those two extremities of stile Mr Dryden illustrates by thefamiliar image of two inns, which I shall term the aerial and thesubterrestrial. 

Horace goes farther, and sheweth when it is proper to call at one ofthese inns, and when at the other:

 Telephus et Peleus, cum pauper et exul uterque, Projicit ampullas et sesquipedalia verba. 

That he approveth of the sesquipedalia verba is plain; for, had notTelephus and Peleus used this sort of diction in prosperity, theycould not have dropt it in adversity. The aerial inn, therefore (saysHorace), is proper only to be frequented by princes and other greatmen in the highest affluence of fortune; the subterrestrial isappointed for the entertainment of the poorer sort of people only, whom Horace advises, --dolere sermone pedestri. 

The true meaning of both which citations is, that bombast is theproper language for joy, and doggrel for grief; the latter of which isliterally implied in the sermo pedestris, as the former is in thesesquipedalia verba. 

Cicero recommendeth the former of these: "Quid est tarn furiosum veltragicum quam verborum sonitus inanis, nulla subjecta sententia nequescientia. " What can be so proper for tragedy as a set of big soundingwords, so contrived together as to convey no meaning? which I shallone day or other prove to be the sublime of Longinus. Ovid declarethabsolutely for the latter inn:

 Omne genus scripti gravitate tragoedia vincit. 

Tragedy hath, of all writings, the greatest share in the bathos; whichis the profound of Scriblerus. 

I shall not presume to determine which of these two stiles be propererfor tragedy. It sufficeth, that our author excelleth in both. He isvery rarely within sight through the whole play, either rising higherthan the eye of your understanding can soar, or sinking lower than itcareth to stoop. But here it may perhaps be observed that I have givenmore frequent instances of authors who have imitated him in thesublime than in the contrary. To which I answer, first, Bombast beingproperly a redundancy of genius, instances of this nature occur inpoets whose names do more honour to our author than the writers in thedoggrel, which proceeds from a cool, calm, weighty way ofthinking. Instances whereof are most frequently to be found in authorsof a lower class. Secondly, That the works of such authors aredifficultly found at all. Thirdly, That it is a very hard task to readthem, in order to extract these flowers from them. And lastly, it isvery difficult to transplant them at all; they being like some flowersof a very nice nature, which will flourish in no soil but their own:for it is easy to transcribe a thought, but not the want of one. TheEARL OF ESSEX, for instance, is a little garden of choice rarities, whence you can scarce transplant one line so as to preserve itsoriginal beauty. This must account to the reader for his missing thenames of several of his acquaintance, which he had certainly foundhere, had I ever read their works; for which, if I have not a justesteem, I can at least say with Cicero, "Quae non contemno, quippe quaenunquam legerim. " However, that the reader may meet with duesatisfaction in this point, I have a young commentator from theuniversity, who is reading over all the modern tragedies, at fiveshillings a dozen, and collecting all that they have stole from ourauthor, which shall be shortly added as an appendix to this work. 

DRAMATIS PERSONAe. 

MEN. 

_King Arthur_, a passionate sort of king, | husband to queen Dollallolla, of whom he | stands a little in fear; father to Huncamunca, | Mr MULLART. Whom he is very fond of, and in love with | Glumdalca. |

_Tom Thumb the Great_, a little hero | with a great soul, something violent in his | YOUNG temper, which is a little abated by his | VERHUYCK. Love for Huncamunca. |

_Ghost of Gaffer Thumb_, a whimsical sort | Mr LACY. Of ghost. |

_Lord Grizzle_, extremely zealous for the | liberty of the subject, very cholerick in his | Mr JONES. Temper, and in love with Huncamunca. |

_Merlin_, a conjurer, and in some sort | Mr HALLAM. Father to Tom Thumb. |

_Noodle, Doodle, _ courtiers in place, and | Mr REYNOLDS, consequently of that party that is uppermost | Mr WATHAN. 

_Foodle_, a courtier that is out of place, | and consequently of that party that is | Mr AYRES. Undermost |

_Bailiff, and Follower, _ of the party of | Mr PETERSON, the plaintiff. | Mr HICKS. 

_Parson_, of the side of the church. | Mr WATSON. 

WOMEN. 

_Queen Dollallolla_, wife to king Arthur, | and mother to Huncamunca, a woman intirely | Mrs MULLART. Faultless, saving that she is a little given | to drink, a little too much a virago towards | her husband, and in love with Tom Thumb. |

_The Princess Huncamunca_, daughter to | their majesties king Arthur and queen | Dollallolla, of a very sweet, gentle, and | Mrs JONES. Amorous disposition, equally in love with | Lord Grizzle and Tom Thumb, and desirous to | be married to them both. |

_Glumdalca_, of the giants, a captive | queen, beloved by the king, but in love with | Mrs DOVE. Tom Thumb. |

_Cleora, Mustacha, _ maids of honour in love with Noodle and Doodle. --_Courtiers, Guards, Rebels, Drums, Trumpets, Thunder and Lightning_. 

SCENE, the court of king Arthur, and a plain thereabouts. 

ACT I. 

SCENE I. --_The Palace_. DOODLE, NOODLE. 

_Doodle_. Sure such a [1]day as this was never seen!The sun himself, on this auspicious day, Shines like a beau in a new birth-day suit:This down the seams embroidered, that the beams. All nature wears one universal grin. 

[Footnote 1: Corneille recommends some very remarkable day wherein tofix the action of a tragedy. This the best of our tragical writershave understood to mean a day remarkable for the serenity of the sky, or what we generally call a fine summer's day; so that, according tothis their exposition, the same months are proper for tragedy whichare proper for pastoral. Most of our celebrated English tragedies, asCato, Mariamne, Tamerlane, &c. , begin with their observations on themorning. Lee seems to have come the nearest to this beautifuldescription of our author's:

 The morning dawns with an unwonted crimson, The flowers all odorous seem, the garden birds Sing louder, and the laughing sun ascends The gaudy earth with an unusual brightness; All nature smiles. --_Caes. Borg_. 

Massinissa, in the New Sophonisba, is also a favourite of the sun:

 ------The sun too seems As conscious of my joy, with broader eye To look abroad the world, and all things smile Like Sophonisba. 

Memnon, in the Persian Princess, makes the sun decline rising, that hemay not peep on objects which would profane his brightness:

 ----The morning rises slow, And all those ruddy streaks that used to paint The day's approach are lost in clouds, as if The horrors of the night had sent 'em back, To warn the sun he should not leave the sea, To peep, &c. ]

_Nood_. This day, O Mr Doodle, is a dayIndeed!--A day, [1] we never saw before. The mighty [2] Thomas Thumb victorious comes;Millions of giants crowd his chariot wheels, [3] Giants! to whom the giants in GuildhallAre infant dwarfs. They frown, and foam, and roar, While Thumb, regardless of their noise, rides on. So some cock-sparrow in a farmer's yard, Hops at the head of an huge flock of turkeys. 

[Footnote 1: This line is highly conformable to the beautifulsimplicity of the antients. It hath been copied by almost everymodern. 

 Not to be is not to be in woe. --_State of Innocence_. 

 Love is not sin but where 'tis sinful love. --_Don Sebastian_. 

 Nature is nature, Laelius. --_Sophonisba_. 

 Men are but men, we did not make ourselves. --_Revenge_. ]

[Footnote 2: Dr B--y reads, The mighty Tall-mast Thumb. Mr D--s, Themighty Thumbing Thumb. Mr T--d reads, Thundering. I think Thomas moreagreeable to the great simplicity so apparent in our author. ]

[Footnote 3: That learned historian Mr S--n, in the third number ofhis criticism on our author, takes great pains to explode thispassage. "It is, " says he, "difficult to guess what giants are heremeant, unless the giant Despair in the Pilgrim's Progress, or thegiant Greatness in the Royal Villain; for I have heard of no othersort of giants in the reign of king Arthur. " Petrus Burmannus makesthree Tom Thumbs, one whereof he supposes to have been the same personwhom the Greeks called Hercules; and that by these giants are to beunderstood the Centaurs slain by that hero. Another Tom Thumb hecontends to have been no other than the Hermes Trismegistus of theantients. The third Tom Thumb he places under the reign of kingArthur; to which third Tom Thumb, says he, the actions of the othertwo were attributed. Now, though I know that this opinion is supportedby an assertion of Justus Lipsius, "Thomam illum Thumbum non aliumquam Herculem fuisse satis constat, " yet shall I venture to oppose oneline of Mr Midwinter against them all:

 In Arthur's court Tom Thumb did live. 

"But then, " says Dr B--y, "if we place Tom Thumb in the court of kingArthur, it will be proper to place that court out of Britain, where nogiants were ever heard of. " Spenser, in his Fairy Queen, is of anotheropinion, where, describing Albion, he says, ------Far within a savage nation dwelt Of hideous giants. 

And in the same canto:

 Then Elfar, with two brethren giants had, The one of which had two heads------ The other three. 

Risum teneatis, amici. ]

_Dood_. When Goody Thumb first brought this Thomas forth, The Genius of our land triumphant reign'd;Then, then, O Arthur! did thy Genius reign. 

_Nood_. They tell me it is [1]whisper'd in the booksOf all our sages, that this mighty hero, By Merlin's art begot, hath not a boneWithin his skin, but is a lump of gristle. 

[Footnote 1: "To whisper in books, " says Mr D--s, "is arrant nonsense. "I am afraid this learned man does not sufficiently understand theextensive meaning of the word whisper. If he had rightly understoodwhat is meant by the "senses whisp'ring the soul, " in the PersianPrincess, or what "whisp'ring like winds" is in Aurengzebe, or likethunder in another author, he would have understood this. Emmeline inDryden sees a voice, but she was born blind, which is an excusePanthea cannot plead in Cyrus, who hears a sight:

 --------Your description will surpass All fiction, painting, or dumb shew of horror, That ever ears yet heard, or eyes beheld. 

When Mr D--s understands these, he will understand whispering inbooks. ]

_Dood_. Then 'tis a gristle of no mortal kind;Some God, my Noodle, stept into the placeOf Gaffer Thumb, and more than [1]half begotThis mighty Tom. 

[Footnote 1: Some ruffian stept into his father's place, And more thanhalf begot him. --_Mary Queen of Scots_]

_Nood_. --[1] Sure he was sent expressFrom Heaven to be the pillar of our state. Though small his body be, so very smallA chairman's leg is more than twice as large, Yet is his soul like any mountain big;And as a mountain once brought forth a mouse, [2] So doth this mouse contain a mighty mountain. 

[Footnote 1: For Ulamar seems sent express from Heaven, To civilizethis rugged Indian clime. --_Liberty Asserted_]

[Footnote 2: "Omne majus continet in se minus, sed minus non in semajus continere potest, " says Scaliger in Thumbo. I suppose he wouldhave cavilled at these beautiful lines in the Earl of Essex:

 ----Thy most inveterate soul, That looks through the foul prison of thy body. 

And at those of Dryden:

 The palace is without too well design'd; Conduct me in, for I will view thy mind. --_Aurengzebe_. ]

_Dood_. Mountain indeed! So terrible his name, [1]The giant nurses frighten children with it, And cry Tom Thumb is come, and if you areNaughty, will surely take the child away. 

[Footnote 1: Mr Banks hath copied this almost verbatim:

 It was enough to say, here's Essex come, And nurses still'd their children with the fright. --_Earl of Essex_. ]

_Nood_. But hark! [1]these trumpets speak the king's approach. 

[Footnote 1: The trumpet in a tragedy is generally as much as to say, Enter king, which makes Mr Banks, in one of his plays, call it thetrumpet's formal sound. ]

_Dood_. He comes most luckily for my petition. 

 [_Flourish_. 

SCENE II. --KING, QUEEN, GRIZZLE, NOODLE, DOODLE, FOODLE. 

_King_. [1] Let nothing but a face of joy appear;The man who frowns this day shall lose his head, That he may have no face to frown withal. Smile Dollallolla--Ha! what wrinkled sorrow[2] Hangs, sits, lies, frowns upon thy knitted brow?Whence flow those tears fast down thy blubber'd cheeks, Like a swoln gutter, gushing through the streets?

[Footnote 1: Phraortes, in the Captives, seems to have been acquaintedwith King Arthur:

 Proclaim a festival for seven days' space, Let the court shine in all its pomp and lustre, Let all our streets resound with shouts of joy; Let musick's care-dispelling voice be heard; The sumptuous banquet and the flowing goblet Shall warm the cheek and fill the heart with gladness. Astarbe shall sit mistress of the feast. 

]

[Footnote 2:

 Repentance frowns on thy contracted brow. --_Sophonisba_. 

 Hung on his clouded brow, I mark'd despair. --_Ibid_. 

 --A sullen gloom Scowls on his brow. --_Busiris_. ]

_Queen_. [1]Excess of joy, my lord, I've heard folks say, Gives tears as certain as excess of grief. 

[Footnote 1: Plato is of this opinion, and so is Mr Banks:

 Behold these tears sprung from fresh pain and joy. --_Earl of Essex_. ]

_King_. If it be so, let all men cry for joy, [1]Till my whole court be drowned with their tears;Nay, till they overflow my utmost land, And leave me nothing but the sea to rule. 

[Footnote 1: These floods are very frequent in the tragick authors:

 Near to some murmuring brook I'll lay me down, Whose waters, if they should too shallow flow, My tears shall swell them up till I will drown. --_Lee's Sophonisba_. 

 Pouring forth tears at such a lavish rate, That were the world on fire they might have drown'd The wrath of heaven, and quench'd the mighty ruin. --_Mithridates_. 

One author changes the waters of grief to those of joy:

 ----These tears, that sprung from tides of grief, Are now augmented to a flood of joy. --_Cyrus the Great_. 

Another:

 Turns all the streams of heat, and makes them flow In pity's channel. --_Royal Villain_. 

One drowns himself:

 ----Pity like a torrent pours me down, Now I am drowning all within a deluge. --_Anna Sullen_. 

Cyrus drowns the whole world:

 Our swelling grief Shall melt into a deluge, and the world Shall drown in tears. --_Cyrus the Great_. ]

_Dood_. My liege, I a petition have here got. 

_King_. Petition me no petitions, sir, to-day:Let other hours be set apart for business. To-day it is our pleasure to be [1]drunk. And this our queen shall be as drunk as we. 

[Footnote 1: An expression vastly beneath the dignity of tragedy, saysMr D--s, yet we find the word he cavils at in the mouth ofMithridates less properly used, and applied to a more terribleidea:

 I would be drunk with death. --_Mithridates_. 

The author of the New Sophonisba taketh hold of this monosyllable, anduses it pretty much to the same purpose:

The Carthaginian sword with Roman bloodWas drunk. 

I would ask Mr D--s which gives him the best idea, a drunken king, ora drunken sword?

Mr Tate dresses up King Arthur's resolution in heroick:

 Merry, my lord, o' th' captain's humour right, I am resolved to be dead drunk to-night. 

Lee also uses this charming word:

Love's the drunkenness of the mind. --_Gloriana_. ]

_Queen_. (Though I already[1] half seas over am)If the capacious goblet overflowWith arrack punch----'fore George! I'll see it out:Of rum and brandy I'll not taste a drop. 

[Footnote 1: Dryden hath borrowed this, and applied it improperly:

I'm half seas o'er in death. --_Cleomenes_]

_King_. Though rack, in punch, eight shillings be a quart, And rum and brandy be no more than six, Rather than quarrel you shall have your will. [_Trumpets_. But, ha! the warrior comes--the great Tom Thumb, The little hero, giant-killing boy, Preserver of my kingdom, is arrived. 

SCENE III. --TOM THUMB _to them, with_ Officers, Prisoners, _and_ Attendants. 

King. [1] Oh! welcome most, most welcome to my arms. What gratitude can thank away the debtYour valour lays upon me?

[Footnote 1: This figure is in great use among the tragedians:

 'Tis therefore, therefore 'tis. --_Victim_. 

 I long, repent, repent, and long again. --_Busiris_. ]

_Queen_. ----------[1] Oh! ye gods! [_Aside_. 

[Footnote 1: A tragical exclamation. ]

_Thumb_. When I'm not thank'd at all, I'm thank'd enough. [1] I've done my duty, and I've done no more, [Footnote 1: This line is copied verbatim in the Captives. ]

_Queen_. Was ever such a godlike creature seen? [_Aside_. 

_King_. Thy modesty's a [1]candle to thy merit, It shines itself, and shews thy merit too. But say, my boy, where didst thou leave the giants?

[Footnote 1: We find a candlestick for this candle in two celebratedauthors:

 ------Each star withdraws His golden head, and burns within the socket. --_Nero_. 

 A soul grown old and sunk into the socket. --_Sebastian_. ]

_Thumb_. My liege, without the castle gates they stand, The castle gates too low for their admittance. 

_King_. What look they like?

_Thumb_. Like nothing but themselves. 

_Queen_. [1]And sure thou art like nothing butthyself. [_Aside_. 

[Footnote 1: This simile occurs very frequently among the dramaticwriters of both kinds. ]

_King_. Enough! the vast idea fills my soul. I see them--yes, I see them now before me:The monstrous, ugly, barb'rous sons of whores. But ha! what form majestick strikes our eyes?[1]So perfect, that it seems to have been drawnBy all the gods in council: so fair she is, That surely at her birth the council paused, And then at length cry'd out, This is a woman!

[Footnote 1: Mr Lee hath stolen this thought from our author:

 This perfect face, drawn by the gods in council, Which they were long a making. --_Luc. Jun. Brut_. 

 --At his birth the heavenly council paused, And then at last cry'd out, This is a man!

Dryden hath improved this hint to the utmost perfection:

 So perfect, that the very gods who form'd you wonder'd At their own skill, and cry'd, A lucky hit Has mended our design! Their envy hindered, Or you had been immortal, and a pattern, When Heaven would work for ostentation sake, To copy out again. --_All for Love_. 

Banks prefers the works of Michael Angelo to that of the gods:

 A pattern for the gods to make a man by, Or Michael Angelo to form a statue. ]

_Thumb_. Then were the gods mistaken--she is notA woman, but a giantess----whom we, [1] With much ado, have made a shift to hawlWithin the town:[2] for she is by a footShorter than all her subject giants were. 

[Footnote 1: It is impossible, says Mr W----, sufficiently to admirethis natural easy line. ]

[Footnote 2: This tragedy, which in most points resembles theancients, differs from them in this--that it assigns the same honourto lowness of stature which they did to height. The gods and heroes inHomer and Virgil are continually described higher by the head thantheir followers, the contrary of which is observed by our author. Inshort, to exceed on either side is equally admirable; and a man ofthree foot is as wonderful a sight as a man of nine. ]

_Glum_. We yesterday were both a queen and wife, One hundred thousand giants own'd our sway, Twenty whereof were married to ourself. 

_Queen_. Oh! happy state of giantism where husbandsLike mushrooms grow, whilst hapless we are forcedTo be content, nay, happy thought, with one. 

_Glum_. But then to lose them all in one black day, That the same sun which, rising, saw me wifeTo twenty giants, setting should beholdMe widow'd of them all. ----[1]My worn-out heart, That ship, leaks fast, and the great heavy lading, My soul, will quickly sink. 

[Footnote 1:

 My blood leaks fast, and the great heavy lading My soul will quickly sink. --_Mithridates_. 

 My soul is like a ship. --_Injured Love_. ]

_Queen_. Madam, believeI view your sorrows with a woman's eye:But learn to bear them with what strength you may, To-morrow we will have our grenadiersDrawn out before you, and you then shall chooseWhat husbands you think fit. 

_Glum_. [1]Madam, I amYour most obedient and most humble servant. 

[Footnote 1: This well-bred line seems to be copied in the PersianPrincess:--

 To be your humblest and most faithful slave. ]

_King_. Think, mighty princess, think this court your own, Nor think the landlord me, this house my inn;Call for whate'er you will, you'll nothing pay. [1]I feel a sudden pain within my breast, Nor know I whether it arise from loveOr only the wind-cholick. Time must shew. O Thumb! what do we to thy valour owe!Ask some reward, great as we can bestow. 

[Footnote 1: This doubt of the king puts me in mind of a passage in theCaptives, where the noise of feet is mistaken for the rustling ofleaves. 

 ------Methinks I hear The sound of feet: No; 'twas the wind that shook yon cypress boughs. ]

_Thumb_. [1] I ask not kingdoms, I can conquer those;I ask not money, money I've enough;For what I've done, and what I mean to do, For giants slain, and giants yet unborn, Which I will slay---if this be called a debt, Take my receipt in full: I ask but this, --[2] To sun myself in Huncamunca's eyes. 

[Footnote 1: Mr Dryden seems to have had this passage in his eye in thefirst page of Love Triumphant. ]

[Footnote 2: Don Carlos, in the Revenge, suns himself in the charms ofhis mistress:

 While in the lustre of her charms I lay. ]

_King_. Prodigious bold request. [_Aside_. 

_Queen_. --------[1] Be still, my soul. [_Aside_. 

[Footnote 1: A tragical phrase much in use. ]

_Thumb_. [1]My heart is at the threshold of your mouth, And waits its answer there. --Oh! do not frown. I've try'd to reason's tune to tune my soul, But love did overwind and crack the string. Though Jove in thunder had cry'd out, YOU SHAN'T, I should have loved her still--for oh, strange fate, Then when I loved her least I loved her most!

[Footnote 1: This speech hath been taken to pieces by several tragicalauthors, who seem to have rifled it, and shared its beauties amongthem. 

 My soul waits at the portal of thy breast, To ravish from thy lips the welcome news. --_Anna Bullen_. 

 My soul stands list'ning at my ears. --_Cyrus the Great_. 

 Love to his tune my jarring heart would bring, But reason overwinds, and cracks the string. --_D. Of Guise_. 

 -------I should have loved, Though Jove, in muttering thunder, had forbid it. --_New Sophonisba_. 

 And when it (_my heart_) wild resolves to love no more, Then is the triumph of excessive love. --_Ibid_. ]

_King_. It is resolv'd--the princess is your own. 

_Thumb_. Oh! [1]happy, happy, happy, happy Thumb. 

[Footnote 1: Massinissa is one-fourth less happy than Tom Thumb. ]

 Oh! happy, happy, happy!--_Ibid_. ]

_Queen_. Consider, sir; reward your soldier's merit, But give not Huncamunca to Tom Thumb. 

_King_. Tom Thumb! Odzooks! my wide-extended realm, Knows not a name so glorious as Tom Thumb. Let Macedonia Alexander boast, Let Rome her Caesars and her Scipios show, Her Messieurs France, let Holland boast Mynheers, Ireland her O's, her Macs let Scotland boast, Let England boast no other than Tom Thumb. 

_Queen_. Though greater yet his boasted merit was, He shall not have my daughter, that is pos'. 

_King_. Ha! sayst thou, Dollallolla?

_Queen_. ---------I say he shan't. 

_King_. [1]Then by our royal self we swear you lie. 

[Footnote 1: No by myself. --_Anna Bullen_. ]

_Queen_. [1] Who but a dog, who but a dogWould use me as thou dost? Me, who have lain[2] These twenty years so loving by thy side!But I will be revenged. I'll hang myself. Then tremble all who did this match persuade, [3] For, riding on a cat, from high I'll fall, And squirt down royal vengeance on you all. 

[Footnote 1: ----------Who causedThis dreadful revolution in my fate. Ulamar. Who but a dog--who but a dog?--_Liberty As_. ]

[Footnote 2: ------------A bride, Who twenty years lay loving by your side. --_Banks_. ]

[Footnote 3: For, borne upon a cloud, from high I'll fall, And rain down royal vengeance on you all. --_Alb. Queens_. ]

_Food_. [1]Her majesty the queen is in a passion. 

[Footnote 1: An information very like this we have in the tragedy ofLove, where, Cyrus having stormed in the most violent manner, Cyaxaresobserves very calmly, Why, nephew Cyrus, you are moved. ]

_King_. [1] Be she, or be she not, I'll to the girlAnd pave thy way, oh Thumb--Now by ourself, We were indeed a pretty king of cloutsTo truckle to her will--For when by forceOr art the wife her husband over-reaches, Give him the petticoat, and her the breeches. 

[Footnote 1: 'Tis in your choice. Love me, or love me not. --_Conquest of Granada_. ]

_Thumb_. [1] Whisper ye winds, that Huncamunca's mine!Echoes repeat, that Huncamunca's mine!The dreadful bus'ness of the war is o'er, And beauty, heav'nly beauty! crowns my toils!I've thrown the bloody garment now asideAnd hymeneal sweets invite my bride. 

So when some chimney-sweeper all the dayHath through dark paths pursued the sooty way, At night to wash his hands and face he flies, And in his t'other shirt with his Brickdusta lies. 

[Footnote 1: There is not one beauty in this charming speech but whathath been borrow'd by almost every tragick writer. ]

SCENE IV. 

_Grizzle_ (_solus_. ) [1] Where art thou, Grizzle? whereare now thy glories?Where are the drums that waken thee to honour?Greatness is a laced coat from Monmouth-street, Which fortune lends us for a day to wear, To-morrow puts it on another's back. The spiteful sun but yesterday survey'dHis rival high as Saint Paul's cupola;Now may he see me as Fleet-ditch laid low. 

[Footnote 1: Mr Banks has (I wish I could not say too servilely)imitated this of Grizzle in his Earl of Essex: Where art thou, Essex, &c. ]

SCENE V. --QUEEN, GRIZZLE. 

_Queen_. [1]Teach me to scold, prodigious-minded Grizzle, Mountain of treason, ugly as the devil, Teach this confounded hateful mouth of mineTo spout forth words malicious as thyself, Words which might shame all Billingsgate to speak. 

[Footnote 1: The countess of Nottingham, in the Earl of Essex, isapparently acquainted with Dollallolla. ]

_Griz_. Far be it from my pride to think my tongueYour royal lips can in that art instruct, Wherein you so excel. But may I ask, Without offence, wherefore my queen would scold?

_Queen_. Wherefore? Oh! blood and thunder! han't you heard(What every corner of the court resounds)That little Thumb will be a great man made?

_Griz_. I heard it, I confess--for who, alas![1] Can always stop his ears?--But would my teeth, By grinding knives, had first been set on edge!

[Footnote 1: Grizzle was not probably possessed of that glew of whichMr Banks speaks in his Cyrus. 

 I'll glew my ears to every word. ]

_Queen_. Would I had heard, at the still noon of night, The hallalloo of fire in every street!Odsbobs! I have a mind to hang myself, To think I should a grandmother be madeBy such a rascal!--Sure the king forgetsWhen in a pudding, by his mother put, The bastard, by a tinker, on a stileWas dropp'd. --O, good lord Grizzle! can I bearTo see him from a pudding mount the throne?Or can, oh can, my Huncamunca bearTo take a pudding's offspring to her arms?

_Griz_. Oh horror! horror! horror! cease, my queen, [1] Thy voice, like twenty screech-owls, wracks mybrain. 

[Footnote 1: Screech-owls, dark ravens, and amphibious monsters, Are screaming in that voice. --_Mary Queen of Scots_. ]

_Queen_. Then rouse thy spirit--we may yet preventThis hated match. 

_Griz_. --We will[1]; nor fate itself, Should it conspire with Thomas Thumb, should cause it. I'll swim through seas; I'll ride upon the clouds;I'll dig the earth; I'll blow out every fire;I'll rave; I'll rant; I'll rise; I'll rush; I'll roar;Fierce as the man whom[2] smiling dolphins boreFrom the prosaick to poetick shore. I'll tear the scoundrel into twenty pieces. 

[Footnote 1: The reader may see all the beauties of this speech in alate ode called the Naval Lyrick. ]

[Footnote 2: This epithet to a dolphin doth not give one so clear anidea as were to be wished; a smiling fish seeming a little moredifficult to be imagined than a flying fish. Mr Dryden is of opinionthat smiling is the property of reason, and that no irrationalcreature can smile:

 Smiles not allow'd to beasts from reason move. --_State of Innocence_. ]

_Queen_. Oh, no! prevent the match, but hurt him not;For, though I would not have him have my daughter, Yet can we kill the man that kill'd the giants?

_Griz_. I tell you, madam, it was all a trick;He made the giants first, and then he kill'd them;As fox-hunters bring foxes to the wood, And then with hounds they drive them out again. 

_Queen_. How! have you seen no giants? Are there notNow, in the yard, ten thousand proper giants?

_Griz_. [1]Indeed I cannot positively tell, But firmly do believe there is not one. 

[Footnote 1: These lines are written in the same key with those in theEarl of Essex:

 Why, say'st thou so? I love thee well, indeed I do, and thou shalt find by this 'tis true. 

Or with this in Cyrus:

 The most heroick mind that ever was. 

And with above half of the modern tragedies. ]

_Queen_. Hence! from my sight! thou traitor, hie away;By all my stars I thou enviest Tom Thumb. Go, sirrah! go, [1]hie away! hie!----thou artA setting dog: be gone. 

[Footnote 1: Aristotle, in that excellent work of his which is veryjustly stiled his masterpiece, earnestly recommends using the terms ofart, however coarse or even indecent they may be. Mr Tate is of thesame opinion. 

_Bru_. Do not, like young hawks, fetch a course about. Your game flies fair. 

_Fra_. Do not fear it. He answers you in your own hawking phrase. --_Injured Love_. 

I think these two great authorities are sufficient to justifyDollallolla in the use of the phrase, "Hie away, hie!" when in thesame line she says she is speaking to a setting-dog. ]

_Griz_. Madam, I go. Tom Thumb shall feel the vengeance you have raised. So, when two dogs are fighting in the streets, With a third dog one of the two dogs meets, With angry teeth he bites him to the bone, And this dog smarts for what that dog has done. 

SCENE VI. 

_Queen_ (_sola_). And whither shall I go?--Alack a day!I love Tom Thumb--but must not tell him so;For what's a woman when her virtue's gone?A coat without its lace; wig out of buckle;A stocking with a hole in't--I can't liveWithout my virtue, or without Tom Thumb. [1] Then let me weigh them in two equal scales;In this scale put my virtue, that Tom Thumb. Alas! Tom Thumb is heavier than my virtue. But hold!--perhaps I may be left a widow:This match prevented, then Tom Thumb is mine;In that dear hope I will forget my pain. 

So, when some wench to Tothill Bridewell's sent, With beating hemp and flogging she's content;She hopes in time to ease her present pain, At length is free, and walks the streets again. 

[Footnote 1: We meet with such another pair of scales in Dryden's KingArthur:

Arthur and Oswald, and their different fates, Are weighing now within the scales of heaven. 

Also in Sebastian:

This hour my lot is weighing in the scales. ]

ACT II. 

SCENE I. --_The street_. Bailiff, Follower. 

[Footnote: Mr Rowe is generally imagined to have taken some hints fromthis scene in his character of Bajazet; but as he, of all the tragickwriters, bears the least resemblance to our author in his diction, Iam unwilling to imagine he would condescend to copy him in thisparticular. ]

_Bail_. Come on, my trusty follower, come on;This day discharge thy duty, and at nightA double mug of beer, and beer shall glad thee. Stand here by me, this way must Noodle pass. 

_Fol_. No more, no more, oh Bailiff! every wordInspires my soul with virtue. Oh! I longTo meet the enemy in the street--and nab him:To lay arresting hands upon his back, And drag him trembling to the spunging-house. 

_Bail_. There when I have him, I will spunge upon him. Oh! glorious thought! by the sun, moon, and stars, I will enjoy it, though it be in thought!Yes, yes, my follower, I will enjoy it. 

_Fol_. Enjoy it then some other time, for nowOur prey approaches. 

_Bail_. Let us retire. 

SCENE II. --TOM THUMB, NOODLE, Bailiff, Follower. 

_Thumb_. Trust me, my Noodle, I am wondrous sick;For, though I love the gentle Huncamunca, Yet at the thought of marriage I grow pale:For, oh!--[1] but swear thou'lt keep it ever secret, I will unfold a tale will make thee stare. 

[Footnote 1: This method of surprizing an audience, by raising theirexpectation to the highest pitch, and then baulking it, hath beenpractised with great success by most of our tragical authors]

_Nood_. I swear by lovely Huncamunca's charms. 

_Thumb_. Then know--[1] my grandmamma hath often said, Tom Thumb, beware of marriage. 

[Footnote: Almeyda, in Sebastian, is in the same distress:

 Sometimes methinks I hear the groan of ghosts, This hollow sounds and lamentable screams; Then, like a dying echo from afar, My mother's voice that cries, Wed not, Almeyda; Forewarn'd, Almeyda, marriage is thy crime. ]

_Nood_. Sir, I blushTo think a warrior, great in arms as you, Should be affrighted by his grandmamma. Can an old woman's empty dreams deterThe blooming hero from the virgin's arms?Think of the joy that will your soul alarm, When in her fond embraces clasp'd you lie, While on her panting breast, dissolved in bliss, You pour out all Tom Thumb in every kiss. 

_Thumb_. Oh! Noodle, thou hast fired my eager soul;Spite of my grandmother she shall be mine;I'll hug, caress, I'll eat her up with love:Whole days, and nights, and years shall be too shortFor our enjoyment; every sun shall rise[1] Blushing to see us in our bed together. 

[Footnote: "As very well he may, if he hath any modesty in him, " saysMr D--s. The author of Busiris is extremely zealous to prevent thesun's blushing at any indecent object; and therefore on all suchoccasions he addresses himself to the sun, and desires him to keep outof the way. 

 Rise never more, O sun! let night prevail, Eternal darkness close the world's wide scene. --_Busiris_. 

 Sun, hide thy face, and put the world in mourning. --_Ibid_. 

Mr Banks makes the sun perform the office of Hymen, and therefore notlikely to be disgusted at such a sight:

 The sun sets forth like a gay brideman with you. --_Mary Queen of Scots_. ]

_Nood_. Oh, sir! this purpose of your soul pursue. 

_Bail_. Oh! sir! I have an action against you. 

_Nood_. At whose suit is it?

_Bail_. At your taylor's, sir. Your taylor put this warrant in my hands, And I arrest you, sir, at his commands. 

_Thumb_. Ha! dogs! Arrest my friend before my face!Think you Tom Thumb will suffer this disgrace?But let vain cowards threaten by their word, Tom Thumb shall shew his anger by his sword. [_Kills_ Bailiff _and_ Follower. 

_Bail_. Oh, I am slain!

_Fol_. I am murdered also, And to the shades, the dismal shades below, My bailiff's faithful follower I go. 

_Nood_. [1]Go then to hell, like rascals as you are, And give our service to the bailiffs there. 

[Footnote 1: Nourmahal sends the same message to heaven;

 For I would have you, when you upwards move, Speak kindly of us to our friends above. --_Aurengzebe_

We find another to hell, in the Persian Princess:

 Villain, get thee down To hell, and tell them that the fray's begun. ]

_Thumb_. Thus perish all the bailiffs in the land, Till debtors at noon-day shall walk the streets, And no one fear a bailiff or his writ. 

SCENE III. ----_The Princess _Huncamunca's_ Apartment_. Huncamunca, Cleora, Mustacha. 

_Hunc_. [1]Give me some music--see that it be sad. 

[Footnote 1: Anthony gave the same command in the same words. ]

CLEORA _sings_. 

Cupid, ease a love-sick maid, Bring thy quiver to her aid;With equal ardour wound the swain, Beauty should never sigh in vain. 

Let him feel the pleasing smart, Drive the arrow through his heart:When one you wound, you then destroy;When both you kill, you kill with joy. 

_Hunc_. [1]O Tom Thumb! Tom Thumb! wherefore art thou Tom Thumb?Why hadst thou not been born of royal race?Why had not mighty Bantam been thy father?Or else the king of Brentford, Old or New?

[Footnote 1: Oh! Marius, Marius, wherefore art thou Marius? --_Olway's Marius_. ]

_Must_. I am surprised that your highness can give yourself amoment's uneasiness about that little insignificant fellow, [1] Tom Thumbthe Great--one properer for a plaything than a husband. Were he myhusband his horns should be as long as his body. If you had fallen inlove with a grenadier, I should not have wondered at it. If you hadfallen in love with something; but to fall in love with nothing!

[Footnote 1: Nothing is more common than these seeming contradictions;such as, Haughty weakness. --_Victim_ Great small world. --_Noah's Flood_]

_Hunc_. Cease, my Mustacha, on thy duty cease. The zephyr, when in flowery vales it plays, Is not so soft, so sweet as Thummy's breath. The dove is not so gentle to its mate. 

_Must_. The dove is every bit as proper for a husband. --Alas!Madam, there's not a beau about the court looks so little like aman. He is a perfect butterfly, a thing without substance, and almostwithout shadow too. 

_Hunc_. This rudeness is unseasonable: desist;Or I shall think this railing comes from love. Tom Thumb's a creature of that charming form, That no one can abuse, unless they love him. 

_Must_. Madam, the king. 

SCENE IV. -KING, HUNCAMUNCA. 

_King_. Let all but Huncamunca leave the room. [Exeunt CLEORA and MUSTACHA. Daughter, I have observed of late some grief. Unusual in your countenance: your eyes![1]That, like two open windows, used to shewThe lovely beauty of the rooms within, Have now two blinds before them. What is the cause?Say, have you not enough of meat and drink?We've given strict orders not to have you stinted. 

[Footnote 1: Lee hath improved this metaphor:

 Dost thou not view joy peeping from my eyes, The casements open'd wide to gaze on thee? So Rome's glad citizens to windows rise, When they some young triumpher fain would see. --_Gloriana_. ]

_Hunc_. Alas! my lord, I value not myselfThat once I eat two fowls and half a pig;[1]Small is that praise! but oh! a maid may wantWhat she can neither eat nor drink. 

[Footnote 1: Almahide hath the same contempt for these appetites:

 To eat and drink can no perfection be. --_Conquest of Granada_. 

The earl of Essex is of a different opinion, and seems to place thechief happiness of a general therein:

 Were but commanders half so well rewarded, Then they might eat. --_Banks's Earl of Essex_. 

But, if we may believe one who knows more than either, the devilhimself, we shall find eating to be an affair of more moment than isgenerally imagined:

 Gods are immortal only by their food. --_Lucifer; in the State of Innocence_. ]

_King_. What's that?

_Hunc_. O[1] spare my blushes; but I mean a husband. 

[Footnote 1: "This expression is enough of itself, " says Mr D. , "utterly to destroy the character of Huncamunca!" Yet we find a womanof no abandoned character in Dryden adventuring farther, and thusexcusing herself:

To speak our wishes first, forbid it pride, Forbid it modesty; true, they forbid it, But Nature does not. When we are athirst, Or hungry, will imperious Nature stay, Nor eat, nor drink, before 'tis bid fall on?--_Cleomenes_. 

Cassandra speaks before she is asked: Huncamunca afterwards. Cassandra speaks her wishes to her lover: Huncamunca only to herfather. ]

_King_. If that be all, I have provided one, A husband great in arms, whose warlike swordStreams with the yellow blood of slaughter'd giants, Whose name in Terra Incognita is known, Whose valour, wisdom, virtue make a noiseGreat as the kettle-drums of twenty armies. 

_Hunc_. Whom does my royal father mean?

_King_. Tom Thumb. 

_Hunc_. Is it possible?

_King_. Ha! the window-blinds are gone;[1]A country-dance of joy is in your face. Your eyes spit fire, your cheeks grow red as beef. 

[Footnote 1: Her eyes resistless magick bear; Angels, I see, and gods, are dancing there --_Lee's Sophonisba_. ]

_Hunc_. O, there's a magick-musick in that sound, Enough to turn me into beef indeed!Yes, I will own, since licensed by your word, I'll own Tom Thumb the cause of all my grief. For him I've sigh'd, I've wept, I've gnaw'd my sheets. 

_King_. Oh! thou shalt gnaw thy tender sheets no more. A husband thou shalt have to mumble now. 

_Hunc_. Oh! happy sound! henceforth let no one tellThat Huncamunca shall lead apes in hell. Oh! I am overjoy'd!

_King_. I see thou art. [1] Joy lightens in thy eyes, and thunders from thy brows;Transports, like lightning, dart along thy soul, As small-shot through a hedge. 

[Footnote 1: Mr Dennis, in that excellent tragedy called LibertyAsserted, which is thought to have given so great a stroke to the lateFrench king, hath frequent imitations of this beautiful speech of kingArthur:

 Conquest light'ning in his eyes, and thund'ring in his arm, Joy lighten'd in her eyes. Joys like lightning dart along my soul. ]

_Hunc_. Oh! say not small. 

_King_. This happy news shall on our tongue ride post, Ourself we bear the happy news to Thumb. Yet think not, daughter, that your powerful charmsMust still detain the hero from his arms;Various his duty, various his delight;Now in his turn to kiss, and now to fight, And now to kiss again. So, mighty[1] Jove, When with excessive thund'ring tired above, Comes down to earth, and takes a bit--and thenFlies to his trade of thund'ring back again. 

[Footnote 1: Jove, with excessive thund'ring tired above, Comes down for ease, enjoys a nymph, and then Mounts dreadful, and to thund'ring goes again. --_Gloriana_. ]

SCENE V. --GRIZZLE, HUNCAMUNCA. 

[1]_Griz_. Oh! Huncamunca, Huncamunca, oh!Thy pouting breasts, like kettle-drums of brass, Beat everlasting loud alarms of joy;As bright as brass they are, and oh, as hard. Oh! Huncamunca, Huncamunca, oh!

[Footnote 1: This beautiful line, which ought, says Mr W----, to bewritten in gold, is imitated in the New Sophonisba:

 Oh! Sophonisba; Sophonisba, oh! Oh! Narva; Narva, oh!

The author of a song called Duke upon Duke hath improved it:

 Alas! O Nick! O Nick, alas!

Where, by the help of a little false spelling, you have twomeanings in the repeated words. ]

_Hunc_. Ha! dost thou know me, princess as I am, [1]That thus of me you dare to make your game?

[Footnote 1: Edith, in the Bloody Brother, speaks to her lover in thesame familiar language:

 Your grace is full of game. ]

_Griz_. Oh! Huncamunca, well I know that youA princess are, and a king's daughter, too;But love no meanness scorns, no grandeur fears;Love often lords into the cellar bears, And bids the sturdy porter come up stairs. For what's too high for love, or what's too low?Oh! Huncamunca, Huncamunca, oh!

_Hunc_. But, granting all you say of love were true, My love, alas! is to another due. In vain to me a suitoring you come, For I'm already promised to Tom Thumb. 

_Griz_. And can my princess such a durgen wed?One fitter for your pocket than your bed!Advised by me, the worthless baby shun, Or you will ne'er be brought to bed of one. Oh take me to thy arms, and never flinch, Who am a man, by Jupiter! every inch. [1]Then, while in joys together lost we lie, I'll press thy soul while gods stand wishing by. 

[Footnote 1:

 Traverse the glitt'ring chambers of the sky, Borne on a cloud in view of fate I'll lie, And press her soul while gods stand wishing by. --_Hannibal_. ]

_Hunc_. If, sir, what you insinuate you prove, All obstacles of promise you remove;For all engagements to a man must fall, Whene'er that man is proved no man at all. 

_Griz_. Oh! let him seek some dwarf, some fairy miss, Where no joint-stool must lift him to the kiss!But, by the stars and glory! you appearMuch fitter for a Prussian grenadier;One globe alone on Atlas' shoulders rests, Two globes are less than Huncamunca's breasts;The milky way is not so white, that's flat, And sure thy breasts are full as large as that. 

_Hunc_. Oh, sir, so strong your eloquence I find, It is impossible to be unkind. 

_Griz_. Ah! speak that o'er again, and let the[1] soundFrom one pole to another pole rebound;The earth and sky each be a battledore, And keep the sound, that shuttlecock, up an hour:To Doctors' Commons for a licence ISwift as an arrow from a bow will fly. 

[Footnote 1:

 Let the four winds from distant corners meet, And on their wings first bear it into France; Then back again to Edina's proud walls, Till victim to the sound th' aspiring city falls. --_Albion Queens_. ]

_Hunc_. Oh, no! lest some disaster we should meet'Twere better to be married at the Fleet. 

_Griz_. Forbid it, all ye powers, a princess shouldBy that vile place contaminate her blood;My quick return shall to my charmer proveI travel on the [1]post-horses of love. 

[Footnote 1: I do not remember any metaphors so frequent in the tragicpoets as those borrowed from riding post:

 The gods and opportunity ride post. --_Hannibal_. 

 ----Let's rush together, For death rides post!--_Duke of Guise_. 

 Destruction gallops to thy murder post. --_Gloriana_. ]

_Hunc_. Those post-horses to me will seem too slowThough they should fly swift as the gods, when theyRide on behind that post-boy, Opportunity. 

SCENE VI. --TOM THUMB, HUNCAMUNCA. 

_Thumb_. Where is my princess? where's my Huncamunca?Where are those eyes, those cardmatches of Jove, That[1] light up all with love my waxen soul?Where is that face which artful nature made[2] In the same moulds where Venus' self was cast?

[Footnote 1: This image, too, very often occurs:

 --Bright as when thy eye First lighted up our loves. --_Aurengzebe_. 

 'Tis not a crown alone lights up my name. --_Busiris_. ]

[Footnote 2: There is great dissension among the poets concerning themethod of making man. One tells his mistress that the mould she wasmade in being lost, Heaven cannot form such another. Lucifer, inDryden, gives a merry description of his own formation:

 Whom heaven, neglecting, made and scarce design'd, But threw me in for number to the rest . --_State of Innocence_. 

In one place the same poet supposes man to be made of metal:

 I was form'd Of that coarse metal which, when she was made The gods threw by for rubbish. --_All for Love_. 

In another of dough:

 When the gods moulded up the paste of man, Some of their clay was left upon their hands, And so they made Egyptians. --_Cleomenes_. 

In another of clay:

 --Rubbish of remaining clay. --_Sebastian_. 

One makes the soul of wax:

 Her waxen soul begins to melt apace. --_Anna Bullen_. 

Another of flint:

 Sure our two souls have somewhere been acquainted In former beings, or, struck out together, One spark to Africk flew, and one to Portugal. --_Sebastian_. 

To omit the great quantities of iron, brazen, and leaden souls, whichare so plenty in modern authors--I cannot omit the dress of a soul aswe find it in Dryden:

 Souls shirted but with air. --_King Arthur_. 

Nor can I pass by a particular sort of soul in a particular sort ofdescription in the New Sophonisba:

 Ye mysterious powers, --Whether thro' your gloomy depths I wander, Or on the mountains walk, give me the calm, The steady smiling soul, where wisdom sheds Eternal sunshine, and eternal joy. ]

_Hunc_. [1]Oh! what is music to the ear that's deaf, Or a goose-pie to him that has no taste?What are these praises now to me, since IAm promised to another?

[Footnote 1: This line Mr Banks has plunder'd entire in his AnnaBullen. ]

_Thumb_. Ha! promised?

_Hunc_. Too sure; 'tis written in the book of fate. 

_Thumb_. [1]Then I will tear away the leafWherein it's writ; or, if fate won't allowSo large a gap within its journal-book, I'll blot it out at least. 

[Footnote 1: Good Heaven! the book of fate before me lay, But to tear out the journal of that day. Or, if the order of the world below Will not the gap of one whole day allow, Give me that minute when she made her vow. --_Conquest of Granada_. ]

SCENE VII. --GLUMDALCA, TOM THUMB, HUNCAMUNCA

_Glum_. [1]I need not ask if you are Huncamunca. Your brandy-nose proclaims----

[Footnote 1: I know some of the commentators have imagined that MrDryden, in the altercative scene between Cleopatra and Octavia, ascene which Mr Addison inveighs against with great bitterness, ismuch beholden to our author. How just this their observation is I willnot presume to determine. ]

_Hunc_. I am a princess;Nor need I ask who you are. 

_Glum_. A giantess;The queen of those who made and unmade queens. 

_Hunc_. The man whose chief ambition is to beMy sweetheart hath destroy'd these mighty giants. 

_Glum_. Your sweetheart? Dost thou think the man who onceHath worn my easy chains will e'er wear thine?

_Hunc_. Well may your chains be easy, since, if fameSays true, they have been tried on twenty husbands. [1]The glove or boot, so many times pull'd on, May well sit easy on the hand or foot. 

[Footnote 1: "A cobling poet indeed, " says Mr D. ; and yet I believe wemay find as monstrous images in the tragick authors: I'll put downone:

Untie your folded thoughts, and let them dangle loose as abride's hair. --_Injured Love_. 

Which line seems to have as much title to a milliner's shop as ourauthor's to a shoemaker's. ]

_Glum_. I glory in the number, and when ISit poorly down, like thee, content with one, Heaven change this face for one as bad as thine. 

_Hunc_. Let me see nearer what this beauty isThat captivates the heart of men by scores. [_Holds a candle to her face_. Oh! Heaven, thou art as ugly as the devil. 

_Glum_. You'd give the best of shoes within your shopTo be but half so handsome. 

_Hunc_. Since you come[1]To that, I'll put my beauty to the test:Tom Thumb, I'm yours, if you with me will go. 

[Footnote 1: Mr L---- takes occasion in this place to commend the greatcare of our author to preserve the metre of blank verse, in whichShakspeare, Jonson, and Fletcher, were so notoriously negligent; andthe moderns, in imitation of our author, so laudably observant:

 Then does Your majesty believe that he can be A traitor?--_Earl of Essex_. 

Every page of Sophonisba gives us instances of this excellence. ]

_Glum_. Oh! stay, Tom Thumb, and you alone shall fillThat bed where twenty giants used to lie. 

_Thumb_. In the balcony that o'erhangs the stage, I've seen a whore two 'prentices engage;One half-a-crown does in his fingers hold, The other shews a little piece of gold;She the half-guinea wisely does purloin, And leaves the larger and the baser coin. 

_Glum_. Left, scorn'd, and loathed for such a chit as this;[1] I feel the storm that's rising in my mind, Tempests and whirlwinds rise, and roll, and roar. I'm all within a hurricane, as if[2] The world's four winds were pent within my carcase. [3] Confusion, horror, murder, guts, and death!

[Footnote 1: Love mounts and rolls about my stormy mind. --_Aurengzebe_. Tempests and whirlwinds thro' my bosom move. --_Cleomenes_. ]

[Footnote 2: With such a furious tempest on his brow, As if the world's four winds were pent within His blustering carcase. --_Anna Bullen_. ]

[Footnote 3: Verba Tragica. ]

SCENE VIII. --KING, GLUMDALCA. 

_King_. [1] Sure never was so sad a king as I![2] My life is worn as ragged as a coatA beggar wears; a prince should put it off. [3] To love a captive and a giantess!Oh love! oh love! how great a king art thou!My tongue's thy trumpet, and thou trumpetest, Unknown to me, within me. [4] Oh, Glumdalca!Heaven thee designed a giantess to make, But an angelick soul was shuffled in. [5] I am a multitude of walking griefs, And only on her lips the balm is found[6] To spread a plaster that might cure them all. 

[Footnote 1: This speech has been terribly mauled by the poet. ]

[Footnote 2: ----My life is worn to rags, Not worth a prince's wearing. --_Love Triumphant_. ]

[Footnote 3: Must I beg the pity of my slave? Must a king beg? But love's a greater king, A tyrant, nay, a devil, that possesses me. He tunes the organ of my voice and speaks, Unknown to me, within me. --_Sebastian_. ]

[Footnote 4: When thou wert form'd, heaven did a man begin; But a brute soul by chance was shuffled in. --_Aurengzebe_. ]

[Footnote 5: I am a multitude Of walking griefs. --_New Sophonisba_. ]

[Footnote 6: I will take thy scorpion blood, And lay it to my grief till I have ease. --_Anna Bullen_. ]

_Glum_. What do I hear?_King_. What do I see?_Glum_. Oh!_King_. Ah![1]_Glum_. Ah! wretched queen!_King_. Oh! wretched king![2]_Glum_. Ah!_King_. Oh!

[Footnote 1: Our author, who everywhere shews his great penetrationinto human nature, here outdoes himself: where a less judicious poetwould have raised a long scene of whining love, he, who understood thepassions better, and that so violent an affection as this must be toobig for utterance, chuses rather to send his characters off in thissullen and doleful manner, in which admirable conduct he is imitatedby the author of the justly celebrated Eurydice. Dr Young seems topoint at this violence of passion:

 --Passion choaks Their words, and they're the statues of despair. 

And Seneca tells us, "Curse leves loquuntur, ingentes stupent. " Thestory of the Egyptian king in Herodotus is too well known to need tobe inserted; I refer the more curious reader to the excellentMontaigne, who hath written an essay on this subject. ]

[Footnote 2: To part is death. Tis death to part. Ah! Oh --_Don Carlos_. ]

SCENE IX. --TOM THUMB, HUNCAMUNCA, Parson. 

_Par_. Happy's the wooing that's not long a doing;For, if I guess right, Tom Thumb this nightShall give a being to a new Tom Thumb. 

_Thumb_. It shall be my endeavour so to do. 

_Hunc_. Oh! fie upon you, sir, you make me blush. 

_Thumb_. It is the virgin's sign, and suits you well:[1] I know not where, nor how, nor what I am;[2] I am so transported, I have lost myself. 

[Footnote 1: Nor know I whether What am I, who, or where. --_Busiris_. 

 I was I know not what, and am I know not how. --_Gloriana_. ]

[Footnote 2: To understand sufficiently the beauty of this passage, itwill be necessary that we comprehend every man to contain two selfs. Ishall not attempt to prove this from philosophy, which the poets makeso plainly evident. 

One runs away from the other:

 ----Let me demand your majesty, Why fly you from yourself? --_Duke of Guise_. 

In a second, one self is a guardian to the other:

 Leave me the care of me. --_Conquest of Granada_. 

Again:

 Myself am to myself less near. --_Ibid_. 

In the same, the first self is proud of the second:

 I myself am proud of me. --_State of Innocence_. 

In a third, distrustful of him:

 Fain I would tell, but whisper it in my ear, That none besides might hear, nay, not myself. --_Earl of Essex_. 

In a fourth, honours him:

 I honour Rome, And honour too myself. --_Sophonisba_. 

In a fifth, at variance with him:

 Leave me not thus at variance with myself. --_Busiris_. 

Again, in a sixth:

 I find myself divided from myself. --_Medea_. 

 She seemed the sad effigies of herself. --_Banks_. 

 Assist me, Zulema, if thou would'st be The friend thou seem'st, assist me against me. --_Albion Queens_. 

From all which it appears that there are two selfs; and therefore TomThumb's losing himself is no such solecism as it hath been representedby men rather ambitious of criticising than qualified to criticise. ]

_Hunc_. Forbid it, all ye stars, for you're so small. That were you lost, you'd find yourself no more. So the unhappy sempstress once, they say, Her needle in a pottle, lost, of hay;In vain she look'd, and look'd, and made her moan, For ah, the needle was forever gone. 

_Par_. Long may they live, and love, and propagate, Till the whole land be peopled with Tom Thumbs![1] So, when the Cheshire cheese a maggot breeds, Another and another still succeeds:By thousands and ten thousands they increase, Till one continued maggot fills the rotten cheese. 

[Footnote 1: Mr F---- imagines this parson to have been a Welsh onefrom his simile. ]

SCENE X. --NOODLE, _and then_ GRIZZLE. 

_Nood_. [1] Sure, Nature means to break her solid chain, Or else unfix the world, and in a rageTo hurl it from its axletree and hinges;All things are so confused, the king's in love, The queen is drunk, the princess married is. 

[Footnote 1: Our author hath been plundered here, according to custom

 Great nature, break thy chain that links together The fabrick of the world, and make a chaos Like that within my soul. --_Love Triumphant_. 

 ----Startle Nature, unfix the globe, And hurl it from its axletree and hinges. --_Albion Queens_. 

 The tott'ring earth seems sliding off its props. ]

_Griz_. Oh, Noodle! Hast thou Huncamunca seen?

_Nood_. I have seen a thousand sights this day, where noneAre by the wonderful bitch herself outdone. The king, the queen, and all the court, are sights. 

_Griz_. [1] D--n your delay, you trifler! are you drunk, ha!I will not hear one word but Huncamunca. 

[Footnote 1: D--n your delay, ye torturers, proceed; I will not hear one word but Almahide. --_Conquest of Granada_. ]

_Nood_. By this time she is married to Tom Thumb. 

_Griz_. [1] My Huncamunca!

[Footnote 1: Mr Dryden hath imitated this in All for Love. ]

_Nood_. Your Huncamunca, Tom Thumb's Huncamunca, every man's Huncamunca. 

_Griz_. If this be true, all womankind are damn'd. 

_Nood_. If it be not, may I be so myself. 

_Griz_. See where she comes! I'll not believe a wordAgainst that face, upon whose [1] ample browSits innocence with majesty enthroned. 

[Footnote 1: This Miltonic style abounds in the New Sophonisba:

 --And on her ample brow Sat majesty. ]

GRIZZLE, HUNCAMUNCA. 

_Griz_. Where has my Huncamunca been? See here. The licence in my hand!

_Hunc_. Alas! Tom Thumb. 

_Griz_. Why dost thou mention him?

_Hunc_. Ah, me! Tom Thumb. 

_Griz_. What means my lovely Huncamunca?

_Hunc_. Hum!

_Griz_. Oh! speak. 

_Hunc_. Hum!

_Griz_. Ha! your every word is hum:[1] You force me still to answer you, Tom Thumb. Tom Thumb--I'm on the rack--I'm in a flame. [2]Tom Thumb, Tom Thumb, Tom Thumb--you love the name;So pleasing is that sound, that were you dumb, You still would find a voice to cry Tom Thumb. 

[Footnote 1: Your every answer still so ends in that, You force me still to answer you Morat. --_Aurengzebe_. ]

[Footnote 2: Morat, Morat, Morat! you love the name. --_Aurengzebe_. ]

_Hunc_. Oh! be not hasty to proclaim my doom!My ample heart for more than one has room:A maid like me Heaven form'd at least for two. [1]I married him, and now I'll marry you. 

[Footnote 1: "Here is a sentiment for the virtuous Huncamunca!" saysMr D----s. And yet, with the leave of this great man, the virtuousPanthea, in Cyrus, hath an heart every whit as ample:

 For two I must confess are gods to me, Which is my Abradatus first, and thee. --_Cyrus the Great_. 

Nor is the lady in Love Triumphant more reserved, though not sointelligible:

 I am so divided, That I grieve most for both, and love both most. ]

_Griz_. Ha! dost thou own thy falsehood to my face?Think'st thou that I will share thy husband's place?Since to that office one cannot suffice, And since you scorn to dine one single dish on, Go, get your husband put into commission. Commissioners to discharge (ye gods! it fine is)The duty of a husband to your highness. Yet think not long I will my rival bear, Or unrevenged the slighted willow wear;The gloomy, brooding tempest, now confinedWithin the hollow caverns of my mind, In dreadful whirl shall roll along the coasts, Shall thin the land of all the men it boasts, [1] And cram up ev'ry chink of hell with ghosts. [2] So have I seen, in some dark winter's day, A sudden storm rush down the sky's highway, Sweep through the streets with terrible ding-dong, Gush through the spouts, and wash whole crouds along. The crouded shops the thronging vermin skreen, Together cram the dirty and the clean, And not one shoe-boy in the street is seen. 

[Footnote 1: A ridiculous supposition to any one who considers the greatand extensive largeness of hell, says a commentator; but notso to those who consider the great expansion of immaterialsubstance. Mr Banks makes one soul to be so expanded, thatheaven could not contain it:

 The heavens are all too narrow for her soul. --_Virtue Betrayed_. 

The Persian Princess hath a passage not unlike the author of this:

 We will send such shoals of murder'd slaves, Shall glut hell's empty regions. 

This threatens to fill hell, even though it was empty; Lord Grizzle, only to fill up the chinks, supposing the rest already full. ]

[Footnote 2: Mr Addison is generally thought to have had this similein his eye when he wrote that beautiful one at the end of the thirdact of his Cato. ]

_Hunc_. Oh, fatal rashness! should his fury slayMy helpless bridegroom on his wedding-day, I, who this morn of two chose which to wed, May go again this night alone to bed. [1] So have I seen some wild unsettled fool, Who had her choice of this and that joint-stool, To give the preference to either loth, And fondly coveting to sit on both, While the two stools her sitting-part confound, Between 'em both fall squat upon the ground. 

[Footnote 1: This beautiful simile is founded on a proverb which doeshonour to the English language:

 Between two stools the breech falls to the ground. 

I am not so well pleased with any written remains of the ancients aswith those little aphorisms which verbal tradition hath delivered downto us under the title of proverbs. It were to be wished that, insteadof filling their pages with the fabulous theology of the pagans, ourmodern poets would think it worth their while to enrich their workswith the proverbial sayings of their ancestors. Mr Dryden hathchronicled one in heroick;

 Two ifs scarce make one possibility. --_Conquest of Granada_. 

My lord Bacon is of opinion that whatever is known of arts andsciences might be proved to have lurked in the Proverbs of Solomon. Iam of the same opinion in relation to those above-mentioned; at leastI am confident that a more perfect system of ethicks, as well asoeconomy, might be compiled out of them than is at present extant, either in the works of the ancient philosophers, or those morevaluable, as more voluminous ones of the modern divines. ]

ACT III. 

SCENE I. --KING ARTHUR'S _Palace_. 

[1] _Ghost (solus)_. Hail! ye black horrors of midnight'smidnoon'Ye fairies, goblins, bats, and screech-owls, hail!And, oh! ye mortal watchmen, whose hoarse throatsTh' immortal ghosts dread croakings counterfeit, All hail!--Ye dancing phantoms, who, by day, Are some condemn'd to fast, some feast in fire, Now play in churchyards, skipping o'er the graves, To the [2]loud music of the silent bell, All hail!

[Footnote 1: Of all the particulars in which the modern stage fallsshort of the ancient, there is none so much to be lamented as thegreat scarcity of ghosts Whence this proceeds I will not presume todetermine Some are of opinion that the moderns are unequal to thatsublime language which a ghost ought to speak One says, ludicrously, that ghosts are out of fashion, another, that they are properer forcomedy, forgetting, I suppose, that Aristotle hath told us that aghost is the soul of tragedy, for so I render the [Greek text:psychae o muythos taes tragodias], which M. Dacier, amongst others, hath mistaken, I suppose, misled by not understanding the Fabula ofthe Latins, which signifies a ghost as well as fable. 

 "Te premet nox, fabulaeque manes"--_Horace_

Of all the ghosts that have ever appeared on the stage, a very learnedand judicious foreign critick gives the preference to this of ourauthor. These are his words speaking of this tragedy--"Nec quidquamin illa admirabilius quam phasma quoddam horrendum, quod omnibus abisspectris quibuscum scatet Angelorum tragoedia longe (pace D--ysn VDoctiss dixerim) praetulerim. "]

[Footnote 2: We have already given instances of this figure. ]

SCENE II. --KING, GHOST. 

_King_. What noise is this? What villain dares, At this dread hoar, with feet and voice profane, Disturb our royal walls?

_Ghost_. One who defiesThy empty power to hurt him; [1] one who daresWalk in thy bedchamber. 

[Footnote 1: Almanzor reasons in the same manner:

 A ghost I'll be; And from a ghost, you know, no place is free. --_Conquest of Granada_. ]

_King_. Presumptuous slave!Thou diest. 

_Ghost_. Threaten others with that word:[1] I am a ghost, and am already dead. 

[Footnote 1: "The man who writ this wretched pun, " says Mr D. , "wouldhave picked your pocket:" which he proceeds to shew not only bad initself, but doubly so on so solemn an occasion. And yet, in thatexcellent play of Liberty Asserted, we find something very muchresembling a pun in the mouth of a mistress, who is parting with thelover she is fond of:

 _Ul_. Oh, mortal woe! one kiss, and then farewell. _Irene_. The gods have given to others to fare well. O! miserably must Irene fare. 

Agamemnon, in the Victim, is full as facetious on the most solemnoccasion--that of sacrificing his daughter:

 Yes, daughter, yes; you will assist the priest; Yes, you must offer up your vows for Greece, ]

_King_. Ye stars! 'tis well, Were thy last hour to come, This moment had been it; [1] yet by thy shroudI'll pull thee backward, squeeze thee to a bladder, Till thou dost groan thy nothingness away. Thou fly'st! 'Tis well. [_Ghost retires_. [2] I thought what was the courage of a ghost!Yet, dare not, on thy life--Why say I that, Since life thou hast not?--Dare not walk againWithin these walls, on pain of the Red Sea. For, if henceforth I ever find thee here, As sure, sure as a gun, I'll have thee laid--

[Footnote 1: I'll pull thee backwards by thy shroud to light, Or else I'll squeeze thee, like a bladder, there, And make thee groan thyself away to air. --_Conquest of Granada_. 

 Snatch me, ye gods, this moment into nothing. --_Cyrus the Great_. ]

[Footnote 2: So, art thou gone? Thou canst no conquest boast. I thought what was the courage of a ghost. --_Conquest of Granada_. 

King Arthur seems to be as brave a fellow as Almanzor, who says mostheroically, In spite of ghosts I'll on. ]

_Ghost_. Were the Red Sea a sea of Hollands gin, The liquor (when alive) whose very smellI did detest--did loathe--yet, for the sakeOf Thomas Thumb, I would be laid therein. 

_King_. Ha! said you?

_Ghost_. Yes, my liege, I said Tom Thumb, Whose father's ghost I am--once not unknownTo mighty Arthur. But, I see, 'tis true, The dearest friend, when dead, we all forget. 

_King_. 'Tis he--it is the honest Gaffer Thumb. Oh! let me press thee in my eager arms, Thou best of ghosts! thou something more than ghost!

_Ghost_. Would I were something more, that we againMight feel each other in the warm embrace. But now I have th' advantage of my king, [1] For I feel thee, whilst thou dost not feel me. 

[Footnote 1: The ghost of Lausaria, in Cyrus, is a plain copy of this, and is therefore worth reading:

 Ah, Cyrus! Thou may'st as well grasp water, or fleet air, As think of touching my immortal shade. --_Cyrus the Great_. ]

_King_. But say, [1] thou dearest air, oh! say what dread, Important business sends thee back to earth?

[Footnote 1: Thou better part of heavenly air. --_Conquest of Granada, _. ]

_Ghost_. Oh! then prepare to hear--which but to hearIs full enough to send thy spirit hence. Thy subjects up in arms, by Grizzle led, Will, ere the rosy-finger'd morn shall opeThe shutters of the sky, before the gateOf this thy royal palace, swarming spread. [1] So have I seen the bees in clusters swarm, So have I seen the stars in frosty nights, So have I seen the sand in windy days, So have I seen the ghosts on Pluto's shore, So have I seen the flowers in spring arise, So have I seen the leaves in autumn fall, So have I seen the fruits in summer smile, So have I seen the snow in winter frown. 

[Footnote 1: "A string of similes, " says one, "proper to be hung up inthe cabinet of a prince. "]

_King_. D--n all thou hast seen!--dost thou, beneath the shapeOf Gaffer Thumb, come hither to abuse meWith similes, to keep me on the rack?Hence--or, by all the torments of thy hell, [1] I'll run thee through the body, though thou'st none. 

[Footnote 1: This passage hath been understood several different waysby the commentators. For my part, I find it difficult to understand itat all. Mr Dryden says--

 I've heard something how two bodies meet, But how two souls join I know not. 

So that, till the body of a spirit be better understood, it will bedifficult to understand how it is possible to run him through it. ]

_Ghost_. Arthur, beware! I must this moment hence, Not frighted by your voice, but by the cocks!Arthur, beware, beware, beware, beware!Strive to avert thy yet impending fate;For, if thou'rt kill'd to-day, To-morrow all thy care will come too late. 

SCENE III. --KING (_solus_). 

_King_. Oh! stay, and leave me not uncertain thus!And, whilst thou tellest me what's like my fate, Oh! teach me how I may avert it too!Curst be the man who first a simile made!Curst ev'ry bard who writes!--So have I seenThose whose comparisons are just and true, And those who liken things not like at all. The devil is happy that the whole creationCan furnish out no simile to his fortune. 

SCENE IV. --KING, QUEEN. 

_Queen_. What is the cause, my Arthur, that you stealThus silently from Dollallolla's breast?Why dost thou leave me in the [1] dark alone, When well thou know'st I am afraid of sprites?

[Footnote 1: Cydaria is of the same fearful temper with Dollallolla. 

 I never durst in darkness be alone. --_Indian Emperor_. ]

_King_. Oh, Dollallolla! do not blame my love!I hop'd the fumes of last night's punch had laidThy lovely eyelids fast. --But, oh! I findThere is no power in drams to quiet wives;Each morn, as the returning sun, they wake, And shine upon their husbands. 

_Queen_. Think, oh think!What a surprise it must be to the sun, Rising, to find the vanish'd world away. What less can be the wretched wife's surpriseWhen, stretching out her arms to fold thee fast, She found her useless bolster in her arms. [1] Think, think, on that. --Oh! think, think well on that. I do remember also to have read[2] In Dryden's Ovid's Metamorphoses, That Jove in form inanimate did lieWith beauteous Danae: and, trust me, love, [3] I fear'd the bolster might have been a Jove. 

[Footnote 1: Think well of this, think that, think every way. --_Sophon_. ]

[Footnote 2: These quotations are more usual in the comick than in thetragick writers. ]

[Footnote 3: "This distress, " says Mr D--, "I must allow to beextremely beautiful, and tends to heighten the virtuous character ofDollallolla, who is so exceeding delicate, that she is in the highestapprehension from the inanimate embrace of a bolster. An exampleworthy of imitation for all our writers of tragedy. "]

_King_. Come to my arms, most virtuous of thy sex!Oh, Dollallolla! were all wives like thee, So many husbands never had worn horns. Should Huncamunca of thy worth partake, Tom Thumb indeed were blest. --Oh, fatal name, For didst thou know one quarter what I know, Then would'st thou know--Alas! what thou would'stknow!

_Queen_. What can I gather hence? Why dost thou speakLike men who carry rareeshows about?"Now you shall see, gentlemen, what you shall see. "O, tell me more, or thou hast told too much. 

SCENE V. --KING, QUEEN, NOODLE. 

_Nood_. Long life attend your majesties serene, Great Arthur, king, and Dollallolla, queen!Lord Grizzle, with a bold rebellious crowd, Advances to the palace, threat'ning loud, Unless the princess be deliver'd straight, And the victorious Thumb, without his pate, They are resolv'd to batter down the gate. 

SCENE VI. --KING, QUEEN, HUNCAMUNCA, NOODLE. 

_King_. See where the princess comes! Where is Tom Thumb?

_Hunc_. Oh! sir, about an hour and half agoHe sallied out t' encounter with the foe, And swore, unless his fate had him misled, From Grizzle's shoulders to cut off his head, And serve't up with your chocolate in bed. 

_King_. 'Tis well, I found one devil told us both. Come, Dollallolla, Huncamunca, come;Within we'll wait for the victorious Thumb;In peace and safety we secure may stay, While to his arm we trust the bloody fray;Though men and giants should conspire with gods, [1] He is alone equal to all these odds. 

[Footnote 1: "Credat Judaeus Appella, Non ego, "

says Mr D--. "For, passing over the absurdity of being equal to odds, can we possibly suppose a little insignificant fellow--I say again, alittle insignificant fellow--able to vie with a strength which all theSamsons and Herculeses of antiquity would be unable to encounter?" Ishall refer this incredulous critick to Mr Dryden's defence of hisAlmanzor; and, lest that should not satisfy him, I shall quote a fewlines from the speech of a much braver fellow than Almanzor, MrJohnson's Achilles:

 Though human race rise in embattled hosts, To force her from my arms--Oh! son of Atreus! By that immortal pow'r, whose deathless spirit Informs this earth, I will oppose them all. --_Victim_. ]

_Queen_. He is, indeed, [1] a helmet to us all;While he supports we need not fear to fall;His arm despatches all things to our wish?And serves up ev'ry foe's head in a dish. Void is the mistress of the house of care, While the good cook presents the bill of fare;Whether the cod, that northern king of fish, Or duck, or goose, or pig, adorn the dish, No fears the number of her guests afford, But at her hour she sees the dinner on the board. 

[Footnote 1: "I have heard of being supported by a staff, " says MrD. , "but never of being supported by a helmet. " I believe he neverheard of sailing with wings, which he may read in no less a poet thanMr Dryden:

 Unless we borrow wings, and sail through air. --_Love Triumphant_. 

What will he say to a kneeling valley?

 ----I'll stand Like a safe valley, that low bends the knee To some aspiring mountain. --_Injured Love_. 

I am ashamed of so ignorant a carper, who doth not know that anepithet in tragedy is very often no other than an expletive. Do notwe read in the New Sophonisba of "grinding chains, blue plagues, whiteoccasions, and blue serenity?" Nay, it is not the adjective only, butsometimes half a sentence is put by way of expletive, as, "Beautypointed high with spirit, " in the same play; and, "In the lap ofblessing, to be most curst, " in the Revenge. ]

SCENE VII. --_Plain_. --GRIZZLE, FOODLE, Rebels. 

_Griz_. Thus far our arms with victory are crown'd;For, though we have not fought, yet we have found[1] No enemy to fight withal. 

[Footnote 1: A victory like that of Almanzor:Almanzor is victorious without fight. --_Conq. Of Granada_. ]

_Food_. Yet I, Methinks, would willingly avoid this day, [1] This first of April, to engage our foes. 

[Footnote 1: Well have we chose an happy day for fight;For every man, in course of time, has foundSome days are lucky, some unfortunate. --_King Arthur_. ]

_Griz_. This day, of all the days of th' year, I'd choose, For on this day my grandmother was born. Gods! I will make Tom Thumb an April-fool;[1] Will teach his wit an errand it ne'er knew, And send it post to the Elysian shades. 

[Footnote 1: We read of such another in Lee:Teach his rude wit a flight she never made, And send her post to the Elysian shade. --_Gloriana_. ]

_Food_. I'm glad to find our army is so stout, Nor does it move my wonder less than joy. 

_Griz_. [1] What friends we have, and how we came so strong, I'll softly tell you as we march along. 

[Footnote 1: These lines are copied verbatim in the Indian Emperor. ]

SCENE VIII. --_Thunder and Lightning_. --TOM THUMB, GLUMDALCA, _cum suis_. 

_Thumb_. Oh, Noodle! hast thou seen a day like this?[1] The unborn thunder rumbles o'er our heads, [2] As if the gods meant to unhinge the world, And heaven and earth in wild confusion hurl;Yet will I boldly tread the tott'ring ball. 

[Footnote 1: Unborn thunder rolling in a cloud. --_Conq. Of Granada_. ]

[Footnote 2:

Were heaven and earth in wild confusion hurl'd, Should the rash gods unhinge the rolling world, Undaunted would I tread the tott'ring ball, Crush'd, but unconquer'd, in the dreadful fall. --_Female Warrior_. ]

_Merl_. Tom Thumb!

_Thumb_. What voice is this I hear?

_Merl_. Tom Thumb!

_Thumb_. Again it calls. 

_Merl_. Tom Thumb!

_Glum_. It calls again. 

_Thumb_. Appear, whoe'er thou art; I fear thee not. 

_Merl_. Thou hast no cause to fear--I am thy friend, Merlin by name, a conjuror by trade, And to my art thou dost thy being owe. 

_Thumb_. How!

_Merl_. Hear, then, the mystick getting of Tom Thumb. 

 [1] His father was a ploughman plain, His mother milk'd the cow; And yet the way to get a son This couple knew not how, Until such time the good old man To learned Merlin goes, And there to him, in great distress, In secret manner shows How in his heart he wish'd to have A child, in time to come, To be his heir, though it may be No bigger than his thumb: Of which old Merlin was foretold That he his wish should have; And so a son of stature small The charmer to him gave. 

Thou'st heard the past--look up and see the future. 

[Footnote 1: See the History of Tom Thumb, page 2. ]

_Thumb_. [1] Lost in amazement's gulf, my senses sink;See there, Glumdalca, see another [2] me!

[Footnote 1: Amazement swallows up my sense, And in the impetuous whirl of circling fate Drinks down my reason. --_Persian Princess_. ]

[Footnote 2: I have outfaced myself. What! am I two? Is there another me?--_King Arthur_. ]

_Glum_. Oh, sight of horror! see, you are devour'dBy the expanded jaws of a red cow. 

_Merl_. Let not these sights deter thy noble mind, [1] For, lo! a sight more glorious courts thy eyes. See from afar a theatre arise;There ages, yet unborn, shall tribute payTo the heroick actions of this day;Then buskin tragedy at length shall chuseThy name the best supporter of her muse. 

[Footnote 1: The character of Merlin is wonderful throughout; but mostso in this prophetick part. We find several of these prophecies in thetragick authors, who frequently take this opportunity to pay acompliment to their country, and sometimes to their prince. None butour author (who seems to have detested the least appearance offlattery) would have past by such an opportunity of being a politicalprophet. ]

_Thumb_. Enough: let every warlike musick sound, We fall contented, if we fall renown'd. 

SCENE IX. --LORD GRIZZLE, FOODLE, Rebels, _on oneside_; TOM THUMB, GLUMDALCA, _on the other_. 

_Food_. At length the enemy advances nigh, [1] I hear them with my ear, and see them with my eye. 

[Footnote 1: I saw the villain, Myron; with these eyes I saw him. --_Busiris_. 

In both which places it is intimated that it is sometimes possible tosee with other eyes than your own. ]

_Griz_. Draw all your swords: for liberty we fight, [1] And liberty the mustard is of life. 

[Footnote 1: "This mustard, " says Mr D. , "is enough to turn one'sstomach. I would be glad to know what idea the author had in his headwhen he wrote it. " This will be, I believe, best explained by a lineof Mr Dennis:

 And gave him liberty, the salt of life. --_Liberty Asserted_. 

The understanding that can digest the one will not rise at the other. ]

_Thumb_. Are you the man whom men famed Grizzle name?

_Griz_. [1] Are you the much more famed Tom Thumb?

[Footnote 1: _Han_. Are you the chief whom men famed Scipio call? _Scip_. Are you the much more famous Hannibal? --_Hannibal_. ]

_Thumb_. The same. 

_Griz_. Come on; our worth upon ourselves we'll prove;For liberty I fight. 

_Thumb_. And I for love. 

[_A bloody engagement between the two armies here; drums beating, trumpets sounding, thunder and lightning. They fight off and on several times. Some fall_. GRIZ. _and_ GLUM. _remain_. 

_Glum_. Turn, coward, turn; nor from a woman fly. 

_Griz_. Away--thou art too ignoble for my arm. 

_Glum_. Have at thy heart. 

_Griz_. Nay, then I thrust at thine. 

_Glum_. You push too well; you've run me through the guts, And I am dead. 

_Griz_. Then there's an end of one. 

Thumb_. When thou art dead, then there's an end of two, [1] Villain. 

[Footnote 1: Dr. Young seems to have copied this engagement in hisBusiris:

_Myr_. Villain!_Mem_. Myron!_Myr_. Rebel!_Mem_. Myron!_Myr_. Hell!_Mem_. Mandane!]

_Griz_. Tom Thumb!

_Thumb_. Rebel!

_Griz_. Tom Thumb!

_Thumb_. Hell!

_Griz_. Huncamunca!

_Thumb_. Thou hast it there. 

_Griz_. Too sure I feel it. 

_Thumb_. To hell then, like a rebel as you are, And give my service to the rebels there. 

_Griz_. Triumph not, Thumb, nor think thou shalt enjoy, Thy Huncamunca undisturb'd; I'll send[1] My ghost to fetch her to the other world;[2] It shall but bait at heaven, and then return. [3] But, ha! I feel death rumbling in my brains:[4] Some kinder sprite knocks softly at my soul, And gently whispers it to haste away. I come, I come, most willingly I come. [5] So when some city wife, for country air, To Hampstead or to Highgate does repair, Her to make haste her husband does implore, And cries, "My dear, the coach is at the door:"With equal wish, desirous to be gone, She gets into the coach, and then she cries--"Drive on!"

[Footnote 1: This last speech of my lord Grizzle hath been of greatservice to our poets:

 I'll hold it fastAs life, and when life's gone I'll hold this last;And if thou tak'st it from me when I'm slain, I'll send my ghost, and fetch it back again. --_Conquest of Granada_. ]

[Footnote 2: My soul should with such speed obey, It should not bait at heaven to stop its way. 

Lee seems to have had this last in his eye:

'Twas not my purpose, sir, to tarry there;I would but go to heaven to take the air. --_Gloriana_. ]

[Footnote 3:A rising vapour rumbling in my brains. --_Cleomenes_. ]

[Footnote 4:Some kind sprite knocks softly at my soul, To tell me fate's at hand. ]

[Footnote 5: Mr Dryden seems to have had this simile in his eye, when hesays, My soul is packing up, and just on wing. --_Conquest of Granada_. ]

_Thumb_. With those last words [1] he vomited his soul, Which, [2] like whipt cream, the devil will swallow down. Bear off the body, and cut off the head, Which I will to the king in triumph lug. Rebellion's dead, and now I'll go to breakfast. 

[Footnote 1: And in a purple vomit pour'd his soul --_Cleomenes_. ]

[Footnote 2: The devil swallows vulgar souls Like whipt cream. --_Sebastian_. ]

SCENE X. --KING, QUEEN, HUNCAMUNCA, Courtiers. 

_King_. Open the prisons, set the wretched free, And bid our treasurer disburse six poundsTo pay their debts. --Let no one weep to-day. Come, Dollallolla; [1] curse that odious name!It is so long, it asks an hour to speak it. By heavens! I'll change it into Doll, or Loll, Or any other civil monosyllable, That will not tire my tongue. --Come, sit thee down. Here seated let us view the dancers' sports;Bid 'em advance. This is the wedding-dayOf Princess Huncamunca and Tom Thumb;Tom Thumb! who wins two victories [2] to-day, And this way marches, bearing Grizzle's head. 

 [_A dance here. _

[Footnote 1:How I could curs my name of Ptolemy!It is so long, it asks an hour to write it, By Heaven! I'll change it into Jove or Mars!Or any other civil monosyllable, That will not tire my hand. --_Cleomenes_. ]

[Footnote 2: Here is a visible conjunction of two days in one, bywhich our author may have either intended an emblem of a wedding, orto insinuate that men in the honey-moon are apt to imagine timeshorter than it is. It brings into my mind a passage in the comedycalled the Coffee-House Politician: We will celebrate this day at my house to-morrow. ]

[Illustration: The Death of Lord Grizzle. ]

_Nood_. Oh! monstrous, dreadful, terrible, oh! oh!Deaf be my ears, for ever blind my eyes!Dumb be my tongue! feet lame! all senses lost![1] Howl wolves, grunt bears, hiss snakes, shriek all ye 'ghosts!

[Footnote 1: These beautiful phrases are all to be found in one singlespeech of King Arthur, or the British Worthy. ]

_King_. What does the blockhead mean?

_Nood_. I mean, my liege, [1] Only to grace my tale with decent horror. Whilst from my garret, twice two stories high, I look'd abroad into the streets below, I saw Tom Thumb attended by the mob;Twice twenty shoe-boys, twice two dozen links, Chairmen and porters, hackney-coachmen, whores;Aloft he bore the grizly head of Grizzle;When of a sudden through the streets there cameA cow, of larger than the usual size, And in a moment--guess, oh! guess the rest!--And in a moment swallow'd up Tom Thumb. 

[Footnote 1:I was but teaching him to grace his taleWith decent horror. --_Cleomenes_. ]

_King_. Shut up again the prisons, bid my treasurerNot give three farthings out-hang all the culprits, Guilty or not--no matter. --Ravish virgins:Go bid the schoolmasters whip all their boys!Let lawyers, parsons, and physicians loose, To rob, impose on, and to kill the world. 

_Nood_. Her majesty the queen is in a swoon. 

_Queen_. Not so much in a swoon but I have stillStrength to reward the messenger of ill news. 

 [_Kills_ NOODLE. 

_Nood_. O! I am slain. 

_Cle_. My lover's kill'd, I will revenge him so. [_Kills the_ QUEEN. 

_Hunc_. My mamma kill'd! vile murderess, beware. [_Kills_ CLEORA. 

_Dood_. This for an old grudge to thy heart. [_Kills_ HUNCAMUNCA. 

_Must_. And thisI drive to thine, O Doodle! for a new one. [_Kills_ DOODLE. 

_King_. Ha! murderess vile, take that. [_Kills_ MUST. [1] And take thou this. [_Kills himself, and falls_. So when the child, whom nurse from danger guards, Sends Jack for mustard with a pack of cards, Kings, queens, and knaves, throw one another down, Till the whole pack lies scatter'd and o'erthrown;So all our pack upon the floor is cast, And all I boast is--that I fall the last. [_Dies_. 

[Footnote 1: We may say with Dryden, Death did at length so many slain forget, And left the tale, and took them by the great. 

I know of no tragedy which comes nearer to this charming and bloodycatastrophe than Cleomenes, where the curtain covers five principalcharacters dead on the stage. These lines too--

I ask no questions then, of who kill'd who?The bodies tell the story as they lie--

seem to have belonged more properly to this scene of our author; norcan I help imagining they were originally his, The Rival Ladies, too, seem beholden to this scene:

We're now a chain of lovers link'd in death;Julia goes first, Gonsalvo hangs on her, And Angelina hangs upon Gonsalvo, As I on Angelina. 

No scene, I believe, ever received greater honours than this. It wasapplauded by several encores, a word very unusual in tragedy. And itwas very difficult for the actors to escape without a secondslaughter. This I take to be a lively assurance of that fierce spiritof liberty which remains among us, and which Mr Dryden, in his essayon Dramatick Poetry, hath observed: "Whether custom, " says he, "hathso insinuated itself into our countrymen, or nature hath so formedthem to fierceness, I know not; but they will scarcely suffer combatsand other objects of horror to be taken from them. " And indeed I amfor having them encouraged in this martial disposition; nor do Ibelieve our victories over the French have been owing to anything morethan to those bloody spectacles daily exhibited in our tragedies, ofwhich the French stage is so intirely clear. ]

 * * * * *

PASQUIN;

A DRAMATICK SATIRE ON THE TIMES

BEING THE REHEARSAL OF TWO PLAYS: VIZ. , A COMEDY CALLED

THE ELECTION, AND A TRAGEDY CALLED

THE LIFE AND DEATH OFCOMMON SENSE. 

FIRST ACTED IN APRIL 1736. 

_DRAMATIS PERSONAe_. 

_Trapwit_, Author . . . . . . . . . Mr ROBERTS, _Fustian_, Author . . . . . . . . . Mr LACY. _Sneerwell_ (a critick) . . . . . . Mr MACHEN. 

Several Players and Prompter. 

PERSONS IN THE COMEDY. 

_Lord Place_, Candidate . . . . . Mrs CHARKE, _Colonel Promise_, Candidate . . Mr FREEMAN, _Sir Henry Fox-Chace_, Candidate . . Mr TOPHAM, _Squire Tankard_, Candidate . . . Mr SMITH, _Mayor_ . . . . . . . . . . . . . Mr JONES. _Aldermen, Voters, &c_. _Mrs Mayoress_ . . . . . . . . . Mrs EGERTON. _Miss Mayoress_ . . . . . . . . . Miss J. JONES. _Miss Stitch_ . . . . . . . . . . Miss BURGESS. _Servants, Mob, &c_. 

PERSONS IN THE TRAGEDY. 

_Queen Common-Sense_ . . . . . . Mrs EGERTON. _Queen Ignorance_ . . . . . . . . Mr STRENSHAM. _Firebrand_ (Priest of the Sun) . Mr ROBERTS. _Law_ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Mr YATES. _Physick_ . . . . . . . . . . . . Mr JONES. _Ghost of Tragedy_ . . . . . . . Mr PULLEN. _Ghost of Comedy_ . . . . . . . . Mr JONES. _Third Ghost_ . . . . . . . . . . Mr WALLIS. _Harlequin_ . . . . . . . . . . . Mr PULLEN. _Officer_ . . . . . . . . . . . . Mr PULLEN. _Messenger_ . . . . . . . . . . . Mr WALLIS. _Drummer_ . . . . . . . . . . . . Mr LOWDER. _Attendants on Ignorance, Maids of Honour, &c_. 

SCENE, the Play-House. 

ACT I. 

SCENE I. --_Enter several_ Players. 

1 _Play_. When does the rehearsal begin?

2 _Play_. I suppose we shall hardly rehearse the comedy thismorning, for the author was arrested as he was going home from King'scoffee-house; and, as I heard it was for upward of four pound, Isuppose he will hardly get bail. 

1 _Play_. Where's the tragedy-author then? I have a long part inboth, and it's past ten o'clock. 

_Wom. P_. Ay, I have a part in both too; I wish any one else hadthem, for they are not seven lengths put together. I think it is veryhard a woman of my standing should have a short part put upon her. Isuppose Mrs Merit will have all our principal parts now, but I amresolved I'll advertise against her. I'll let the town know how I aminjured. 

1 _Play_. Oh! here comes our tragedy-poet. 

_Enter_ FUSTIAN. 

_Fust_. Gentlemen, your servant; ladies, yours. I should havebeen here sooner, but I have been obliged, at their own requests, towait upon some half-dozen persons of the first quality with tickets:upon my soul 1 have been chid for putting off my play so long. I hopeyou are all quite perfect, for the town will positively stay for itno longer. I think I may very well put upon the bills, _At theparticular desire of several ladles of quality_, the first night. 

_Enter_ Prompter. 

_Promp_. Mr Fustian, we must defer the rehearsal of yourtragedy, for the gentleman who plays the first ghost is not yet up;and when he is, he has got such a churchyard-cough he will not beheard to the middle of the pit. 

1 _Play_. I wish you could cut the ghost out, sir, for I amterribly afraid he'll be damned if you don't. 

_Fust_. Cut him out, sir? He is one of the most considerablepersons in the play. 

_Promp_. Then, sir, you must give the part to somebody else; forthe present is so lame he can hardly walk the stage. 

_Fust_. Then he shall be carried, for no man in England can acta ghost like him. Sir, he was born a ghost--he was made for thepart--and the part writ for him. 

_Promp_. Well, sir, then we hope you will give us leave torehearse the comedy first. 

_Fust_. Ay, ay, you may rehearse it first, if you please, andact it first too. If it keeps mine back above three nights, I ammistaken. I don't know what friends the author may have; but if eversuch stuff, such damned, incoherent, senseless stuff, was everbrought on any stage--if the audience suffer it to go through threeacts--Oh! he's here. 

_Enter_ TRAPWIT. 

Dear Mr Trapwit! your most humble servant, sir; I read your comedyover last night, and a most excellent one it is: if it runs as longas it deserves you will engross the whole season to yourself. 

_Trap_. Sir, I am glad it met with your approbation, as there isno man whose taste and judgment I have a better opinion of. But pray, sir, why don't they proceed to the rehearsal of your tragedy? Iassure you, sir, I had much difficulty to get hither so early. 

2 _Play_. Yes, faith, I believe you had. [_Aside_. 

_Fust_. Sir, your comedy is to be rehearsed first. 

_Trap_. Excuse me, sir, I know the deference due to tragedybetter. 

_Fust_. Sir, I would not have you think I give up the cause oftragedy; but my ghost, being ill, sir, cannot get up without danger, and I would not risque the life of my ghost on any account. 

_Trap_. You are in the right on't, sir; for a ghost is the soulof tragedy. 

_Fust_. Ay, sir, I think it is not amiss to remind people ofthose things which they are now-a-days too apt to disbelieve;besides, we have lately had an act against witches, and I don'tquestion but shortly we shall have one against ghosts. But come, MrTrapwit, as we are for this once to give the precedence to comedy, e'en let us begin. 

_Trap_. Ay, ay, with all my heart. Come, come, where's thegentleman who speaks the prologue? This prologue, Mr Fustian, wasgiven me by a friend, who does not care to own it till he trieswhether it succeeds or no. 

_Enter_ Player _for the Prologue_. 

Come, sir, make a very low bow to the audience; and shew as muchconcern as possible in your looks. 

 PROLOGUE. 

 As crafty lawyers, to acquire applause, Try various arts to get a doubtful cause; Or, as a dancing master in a jigg, With various steps instructs the dancing prig; Or as a doctor writes you different bills; Or as a quack prescribes you different pills; Or as a fiddler plays more tunes than one; Or as a baker bakes more bread than brown; Or as a tumbler tumbles up and down; So does our author, rummaging his brain, By various methods try to entertain; Brings a strange groupe of characters before you, And shews you here at once both Whig and Tory; Or court and country party you may call 'em: But without fear and favour he will maul 'em. To you, then, mighty sages of the pit--

_Trap_. Oh! dear sir, seem a little more affected, I beseechyou; advance to the front of the stage, make a low bow, lay your handupon your heart, fetch a deep sigh, and pull out your handkerchief:To you, then, mighty sages of the pit--

_Prol_. To you, then, mighty sages of the pit, Our author humbly does his cause submit. He trys to please--oh! take it not amiss:And though it should be dull, oh! do not hiss;Laugh, if you can--if you cannot laugh, weep:When you can wake no longer--fall asleep. 

_Trap_. Very well! very well, sir! You have affected me, I amsure. 

_Fust_. And so he will the audience, I'll answer for them. 

_Trap_. Oh, sir, you're too good-natured; but, sir, I do assureyou I had writ a much better prologue of my own; but, as this camegratis, have reserved it for my next play--a prologue saved is aprologue got, brother Fustian. But come, where are your actors? IsMr Mayor and the Aldermen at the table?

_Promp_. Yes, sir; but they want wine, and we can get none fromthe quaker's cellar without ready money. 

_Trap_. Rat him! can't he trust till the third night? Here, take sixpence, and fetch two pots of porter, put it into bottles, andit will do for wine well enough. 

_Fust_. Ay, faith, and the wine will be as good as the wit, I'llanswer for it. [_Aside_. 

_Trap_. Mr Fustian, you'll observe I do not begin this play, like most of our modern comedies, with three or four gentlemen whoare brought on only to talk wit; for, to tell you the truth, sir, Ihave very little, if any, wit in this play. No, sir, this is a playconsisting of humour, nature, and simplicity. It is written, sir, inthe exact and true spirit of Moliere: and this I will say for it, that, except about a dozen, or a score or so, there is not one impurejoke in it. But come, clear the stage, and draw the back scene! MrFustian, if you please to sit down by me. 

 [Mayor _and_ Aldermen _discovered_. 

_Fust_. Pray, sir, who are these characters?

_Trap_. Sir, they are Mr Mayor of the town and his brethren, consulting about the election. 

_Fust_. Are they all of a side, sir?

_Trap_. Yes, sir, as yet; for you must know, sir, that all themen in this borough are very sensible people, and have no partyprinciples for which they cannot give a good reason; Mr Mayor, youbegin the play. 

_May_. Gentlemen, I have summoned you together to consider ofproper representatives for this borough: you know the candidates onthe court side are my lord Place and colonel Promise; the countrycandidates are Sir Henry Fox-chace and squire Tankard; all worthygentlemen, and I wish with all my heart we could chuse them all four. 

1 _Ald_. But since we cannot, Mr Mayor, I think we should standby our neighbours; gentlemen whose honesty we are witnesses of, andwhose estates in our own neighbourhood render 'em not liable to bebribed. 

_Fust_. This gentleman, Mr Trapwit, does not seem so unbiassedin his principles as you represented him. 

_Trap_. Pugh, sir! you must have one fool in a play; beside, Ionly writ him to set off the rest. 

_May_. Mr Alderman, you have a narrow way of thinking; honestyis not confined to a country; a man that lives a hundred miles offmay be as honest as him who lives but three. 

_Ald_. Ay, ay, ay, ay. [_Shaking their heads_. 

_May_. Besides, gentlemen, are we not more obliged to aforeigner for the favours he does us than to one of our ownneighbours who has obligations to us? I believe, gentlemen, there isnot one of us who does not eat and drink with Sir Harry at leasttwenty times in a twelvemonth; now, for my part, I never saw or heardof either my lord or the colonel till within this fortnight; and yetthey are as obliging, and civil and familiar, as if we had been bornand bred together. 

1 _Ald_. Nay, they are very civil, well-bred men, that is thetruth on't; but won't they bring a standing army upon us?

_May_. Mr Alderman, you are deceived; the country party willbring a standing army upon us; whereas, if we chuse my lord and thecolonel, we shan't have a soldier in town. But, mum! here are my lordand the colonel. 

_Enter_ Lord PLACE _and_ Col. PROMISE. 

_Place_. Gentlemen, your most humble servant; I have brought thecolonel to take a morning's whet with you. 

_May_. Your lordship and the colonel do us great honour; pray, my lord, be pleased to sit down; pray, colonel, be pleased tosit. More wine here. 

_Fust_. I wish, Mr Trapwit, your actors don't get drunk in thefirst act. 

_Trap_. Dear sir, don't interrupt the rehearsal. 

_Place_. Gentlemen, prosperity to the corporation!

_Fust_. Sir, I am a well-wisher to the corporation, and, if youplease, will pledge his lordship:--success to your comedy, MrTrapwit. [_Drinks_. 

_Trap_. Give me a glass--sir, here's to your tragedy. Now, pray, no more interruption; for this scene is one continual joke, andif you open your lips in it you will break the thread of the jest. 

_May_. My lord, we are sensible of your great power to servethis corporation, and we do not doubt but we shall feel the effecton't. 

_Place_. Gentlemen, you may depend on me; I shall do all in mypower. I shall do you some services which are not proper at presentto mention to you; in the meantime, Mr Mayor, give me leave tosqueeze you by the hand, in assurance of my sincerity. 

_Trap_. You, Mr, that act my lord, bribe a little more openly, if you please, or the audience will lose that joke, and it is one ofthe strongest in my whole play. 

_Place_. Sir, I cannot possibly do it better at the table. 

_Trap_. Then get all up, and come forward to the front of thestage. Now, you gentlemen that act the mayor and aldermen, rangeyourselves in a line; and you, my lord and the colonel, come to oneend and bribe away with right and left. 

_Fust_. Is this wit, Mr Trapwit?

_Trap_. Yes, sir, it is wit; and such wit as will run all overthe kingdom. 

_Fust_. But, methinks, colonel Promise, as you call him, is butill-named; for he is a man of very few words. 

_Trap_. You'll be of another opinion before the play is over; atpresent his hands are too full of business; and you may remember, sir, I before told you this is none of your plays wherein much issaid and nothing done. Gentlemen, are you all bribed?

_Omnes_. Yes, sir. 

_Trap_. Then, my lord and the colonel, you must go off, andmake room for the other candidates to come on and bribe too. [_Exeunt_ PLACE _and_ PROMISE. 

_Fust_. Is there nothing but bribery in this play of yours, MrTrapwit?

_Trap_. Sir, this play is an exact representation of nature; Ihope the audience will date the time of action before the bill ofbribery and corruption took place; and then I believe it may go down;but now, Mr Fustian, I shall shew you the art of a writer, which is, to diversify his matter, and do the same thing several ways. You mustknow, sir, I distinguish bribery into two kinds, the direct and theindirect: the first you have seen already; and now, sir, I shall giveyou a small specimen of the other. Prompter, call Sir Harry and thesquire. But, gentlemen, what are you doing? How often shall I tellyou that the moment the candidates are gone out you are to retire tothe table, and drink and look wise; you, Mr Mayor, ought to look verywise. 

_Fust_. You'll take care he shall talk foolish enough, I'llwarrant you. [_Aside_. 

_May_. Come, here's a round to my lord and the colonel's health;a Place and a Promise, I say; they may talk of the pride ofcourtiers, but I am sure I never had a civiller squeeze by the handin my life. 

_Trap_. Ay, you have squeezed that out pretty well: but shew thegold at these words, sir, if you please. 

_May_. I have none. 

_Trap_. Pray, Mr Prompter, take care to get some countersagainst it is acted. 

_Fust_. Ha, ha, ha! upon my word the courtiers have topt theirpart; the actor has outdone the author; this bribing with an emptyhand is quite in the character of a courtier. 

_Trap_. Come, enter Sir Harry and the squire. Where are they?

I _Play_. Sir, Mr Soundwell has been regularly summoned, but hehas refused to act the part. 

_Trap_. Has he been writ to?

I _Play_. Yes, sir, and here's his answer. 

_Trap_. Let both the letters be produced before theaudience. Pray, Mr Prompter, who shall we have to act the part?

I _Play_. Sir, I like the part so well that I have studied it inthe hope of some time playing it. 

_Trap_. You are an exceeding pretty young fellow, and I am veryglad of the exchange. 

_Sir H_. Halloo, hark forwards: hark, honest Ned, good-morrow toyou; how dost, Master Mayor? What, you are driving it about merrilythis morning? Come, come, sit down; the squire and I will take a potwith you. Come, Mr Mayor, here's--liberty and property and no excise. 

_May_. Sir Harry, your health. 

_Sir H_. What, won't you pledge me? Won't you drink no excise?

_May_. I don't love party healths, Sir Harry. 

_All Ald_. No, no; no party healths, no party healths. 

_Sir H_. Say ye so, gentlemen? I begin to smoke you; your pulseshave been felt, I perceive: and will you be bribed to sell yourcountry? Where do you think these courtiers get the money they bribeyou with, but from yourselves? Do you think a man who will give abribe won't take one? If you would be served faithfully, you mustchoose faithfully, and give your vote on no consideration but merit;for my part, I would as soon suborn an evidence at an assize as avote at an election. 

_May_. I do believe you, Sir Harry. 

_Sir H_. Mr Mayor, I hope you received those three bucks I sentyou, and that they were good. 

_May_. Sir Harry, I thank you for them; but 'tis so long since Ieat them that I have forgot the taste. 

_Sir H_. We'll try to revive it--I'll order you three moreto-morrow morning. 

_May_. You will surfeit us with venison: you will indeed; for itis a dry meat, Sir Harry, a very dry meat. 

_Sir H_. We'll find a way to moisten it, I'll warrant you, ifthere be any wine in town. Mr Alderman Stitch, your bill is tooreasonable; you certainly must lose by it: send me in half a dozenmore greatcoats, pray; my servants are the dirtiest dogs! Mr Damask, I believe you are afraid to trust me, by those few yards of silk yousent my wife; she likes the pattern so extremely she is resolved tohang her rooms with it; pray let me have a hundred yards of it; Ishall want more of you. Mr Timber, and you, Mr Iron, I shall get intoyour books too. 

_Fust_. Would not that getting into books have been more in thecharacter of the courtier, Mr Trapwit?

_Trap_. Go on, go on, sir. 

_Sir H_. That gentleman interrupts one so. --Oh, now Iremember--Mr Timber, and you Mr Iron, I shall get into your bookstoo; though if I do, I assure you I won't continue in them long. 

_Trap_. Now, sir, would it have been more in the character of acourtier? But you are like all our modern criticks, who damn a manbefore they have heard a man out; when, if they would but stay tillthe joke came--

_Fust_. They would stay to hear your last words, I believe. [_Aside_. 

_Sir H_. For you must know, gentlemen, that I intend to pulldown my old house, and build a new one. 

_Trap_. Pray, gentlemen, observe all to start at the word_house_. Sir Harry, that last speech again, pray. 

_Sir H_. For you, &c. ----Mr Mayor, I must have all my bricks ofyou. 

_May_. And do you intend to rebuild your house, Sir Harry?

_Sir H_. Positively. 

_May_. Gentlemen, methinks Sir Harry's toast stands still; willnobody drink liberty and property, and no excise? [_They all drink and huzza_. 

_Sir H_. Give me thy hand, mayor; I hate bribery and corruption:if this corporation will not suffer itself to be bribed, there shallnot be a poor man in it. 

_May_. And he that will, deserves to be poor; for my part, theworld should not bribe me to vote against my conscience. 

_Trap_. Do you take that joke, sir?

_Fust_. No, faith, sir. 

_Trap_. Why, how can a man vote against his conscience who hasno conscience at all?

_1 Ald_. Come, gentlemen, here's a Fox-chace and a Tankard!

_Omnes_. A Fox-chace and a Tankard! huzza!

_Sir H_. Come, let's have one turn in the marketplace, and thenwe'll to dinner. 

_May_. Let's fill the air with our repeated cries Of liberty, and property, and no excise. 

 [_Exeunt_ Mayor _and_ Aldermen. 

_Trap_. How do you like that couplet, sir?

_Fust_. Oh! very fine, sir!

_Trap_. This is the end of the first act, sir. 

_Fust_. I cannot but observe, Mr Trapwit, how nicely you haveopposed squire Tankard to colonel Promise; neither of whom have yetuttered one syllable. 

_Trap_. Why, you would not have every man a speaker, would you?One of a side is sufficient; and let me tell you, sir, one is fullenough to utter all that the party has to say for itself. 

_Fust_. Methinks, sir, you should let the audience know they canspeak, if it were but an _ay_ or a _no_. 

_Trap_. Sir, the audience must know that already; for if theycould not say _ay_ and _no_, they would not be qualifiedfor candidates. 

_Fust_. Oh! your humble servant, I am answered; but pray, sir, what is the action of this play?

_Trap_. The action, sir?

_Fust_. Yes, sir, the fable, the design?

_Trap_. Oh! you ask who is to be married? Why, sir, I have amarriage; I hope you think I understand the laws of comedy betterthan to write without marrying somebody. 

_Fust_. But is that the main design to which everythingconduces?

_Trap_. Yes, sir. 

_Fust_. Faith, sir, I can't for the soul of me see how what hashitherto past can conduce at all to that end. 

_Trap_. You can't? indeed, I believe you can't; for that is thewhole plot of my play: and do you think I am like your shallowwriters of comedy, who publish the bans of marriage between all thecouples in their play in the first act? No, sir, I defy you to guessmy couple till the thing is done, slap all at once; and that too byan incident arising from the main business of the play, and to whicheverything conduces. 

_Fust_. That will, indeed, surprise me. 

_Trap_. Sir, you are not the first man my writings havesurprised. But what's become of all our players?--Here, who beginsthe second act?--Prompter!

_Enter_ 1st Player. 

_I Play_. Sir, the prompter and most of the players are drinkingtea in the green-room. 

_Trap_. Mr Fustian, shall we drink a dish of tea with them?Come, sir, as you have a part in my play, you shall drink a dish withus. 

_I Play_. Sir, I dare not go into the green-room; my salary isnot high enough: I shall be forfeited if I go in there. 

_Trap_. Pshaw! come along; your sister has merit enough forherself and you too: if they forfeit you, I'll warrant she'll take itoff again. 

ACT II. 

SCENE I. --_Enter_ TRAPWIT, FUSTIAN, Prompter, Lord PLACE, Mrs andMiss Mayoress. 

_Trap_. I am afraid, Mr Fustian, you have hitherto suspectedthat I was a dabbler in low comedy; now, sir, you shall see somescenes of politeness and fine conversation among the ladies. Come, mylord, come, begin. 

_Place_. Pray, Mrs Mayoress, what do you think this lace cost ayard?

_Fust_. A very pretty beginning of polite conversation, truly. 

_Trap_. Sir, in this play I keep exactly up to nature, nor isthere anything said in this scene that I have not heard come out ofthe mouths of the finest people of the age. Sir, this scene has costme ten shillings in chair-hire, to keep the best company, as it iscalled. 

_Mrs M_. Indeed, my lord, I cannot guess it at less than tenpounds a yard. 

_Place_. Pray, madam, was you at the last ridotto?

_Fust_. Ridotto! the devil! a country mayoress at a ridotto!Sure, that is out of character, Mr Trapwit!

_Trap_. Sir, a conversation of this nature cannot be earned onwithout these helps; besides, sir, this country mayoress, as you callher, may be allowed to know something of the town; for you must know, sir, that she has been woman to a woman of quality. 

_Fust_. I am glad to hear that. 

_Mrs M_. Oh, my lord! mention not those dear ridottos to me, whohave been confined these twelve long months in the country; where wehave no entertainment but a set of hideous strolling players; norhave I seen any one human creature till your lordship came totown. Heaven send us a controverted election! then I shall go tothat dear delightful place once more. 

_Miss M_. Yes, mama, and then we shall see Faribelly, thestrange man-woman that they say is with child; and the fine picturesof Merlin's cave at the playhouses; and the rope-dancing and thetumbling. 

_Fust_. By miss's taste I believe she has been bred up under awoman of quality too. 

_Place_. I cannot but with pleasure observe, madam, the politetaste miss shows in her choice of entertainments; I dare swear shewill be much admired in the beau monde, and I don't question but willbe soon taken into keeping by some man of quality. 

_Miss M_. Keeping, my lord?

_Place_. Ay, that surprize looks well enough in one so young, that does not know the world; but, miss, every one now keeps and iskept; there are no such things as marriages now-a-days, unless merelySmithfield contracts, and that for the support of families; but thenthe husband and wife both take into keeping within a fortnight. 

_Mrs M_. My lord, I would have my girl act like other youngladies; but she does not know any men of quality, who shall introduceher to 'em?

_Place_. That, madam, must be your part; you must take a houseand see company; in a little while you may keep an assembly, and playat cards as high as you can; and almost all the money that is wonmust be put into the box, which you must call _paying for thecards_; though it is indeed paying for your candles, your cloaths, your lodgings, and, in short, everything you have. I know somepersons who make a very considerable figure in town, whose wholeestate lies in their card-box. 

_Mrs M_. And have I been so long contented to be the wife of apoor country tradesman, when I might have had all this happiness?

_Fust_. How comes this lady, Mr Trapwit, considering hereducation, to be so ignorant of all these things?

_Trap_. 'Gad, that's true; I had forgot her education, faith, when I writ that speech; it's a fault I sometimes fall into--a manought to have the memory of a devil to remember every little thing;but come, go on, go on--I'll alter it by and by. 

_Place_. Indeed, madam, it is a miserable state of life; I hopewe shall have no such people as tradesmen shortly; I can't see anyuse they are of: if I am chose, I'll bring in a bill to extirpate alltrade out of the nation. 

_Mrs M_. Yes, my lord, that would do very well amongst people ofquality who don't want money. 

_Fust_. Again! Sure Mrs Mayoress knows very little of people ofquality, considering she has lived amongst them. 

_Trap_. Lord, sir, you are so troublesome. Then she has notlived amongst people of quality, she has lived where I please; butsuppose we should suppose she had been woman to a lady of quality, may we not also suppose she was turned away in a fortnight, and thenwhat could she know, sir? Go on, go on. 

_Place_. Alack-a-day, madam, when I mention trade, I only meanlow, dull, mechanick trade, such as the canaille practise; there areseveral trades reputable enough, which people of fashion maypractise; such as gaming, intriguing, voting, and running in debt. 

_Trap_. Come, enter a servant, and whisper my lord. [_Enter a_ Servant. ] Pray, sir, mind your cue of entrance. [_Exit_ Servant. 

_Place_. Ladies, a particular affair obliges me to lose so goodcompany. I am your most obedient servant. [_Exit_. 

_Mrs M_. He is a prodigious fine gentleman. 

_Miss M_. But must I go into keeping, mama?

_Mrs M_. Child, you must do what's in fashion. 

_Miss M_. But I have heard that's a naughty thing. 

_Mrs M_. That can't be if your betters do it; people arepunished for doing naughty things, but people of quality are neverpunished; therefore they never do any naughty things. 

_Fust_. An admirable syllogism, and quite in character. 

_Trap_. Pshaw, dear sir! don't trouble me with character; it's agood thing; and if it's a good thing, what signifies who saysit?--Come, enter the mayor drunk. 

_Enter_ Mayor. 

_May_. Liberty and property, and no excise, wife. 

_Mrs M_. Ah! filthy beast, come not near me. 

_May_. But I will, though; I am for liberty and property; I'llvote for no courtiers, wife. 

_Mrs M_. Indeed, but you shall, sir. 

_Miss M_. I hope you won't vote for a nasty stinking Tory, papa. 

_May_. What a pox! are you for the courtiers too?

_Miss M_. Yes, I hope I am a friend to my country; I am not forbringing in the pope. 

_May_. No, nor I an't for a standing army. 

_Mrs M_. But I am for a standing army, sir; a standing army is agood thing: you pretend to be afraid of your liberties and yourproperties--you are afraid of your wives and daughters: I love to seesoldiers in the town; and you may say what you will, I know the townloses nothing by 'em. 

_May_. The women don't, I believe. 

_Mrs M_. And I'll have you know, the women's wants shall beconsidered, as well as yours. I think my lord and the colonel do youtoo much honour in offering to represent such a set of clownish, dirty, beggarly animals--Ah! I wish we women were to choose. 

_May_. Ay, we should have a fine set of members then, indeed. 

_Mrs M_. Yes, sir, you would have none but prettygentlemen--there should not be one man in the House of Commons withouta laced coat. 

_Miss M_. O la! what a delicate, fine, charming sight that wouldbe! Well, I like a laced coat; and if ever I am taken into keeping, it shall be by a man in a laced coat. 

_May_. What's that you say, minx? What's that you say?

_Mrs M_. What's that to you, sir?

_May_. Why, madam, must not I speak to my own daughter?

_Mrs M_. You have the greater obligation to me, sir, if she is:I am sure, if I had thought you would have endeavoured to ruin yourfamily, I would have seen you hanged before you should have had anyby me. 

_May_. I ruin my family!

_Mrs M_. Yes, I have been making your fortune for you with mylord; I have got a place for you, but you won't accept on't. 

_Miss M_. You shall accept on't. 

_Mrs M_. You shall vote for my lord and the colonel. 

_Miss M_. They are the finest men--

_Mrs M_. The prettiest men--

_Miss M_. The sweetest men--

_Mrs M_. And you shall vote for them. 

_May_. I won't be bribed. 

_Mrs M_. A place is no bribe--ask the parson of the parish if aplace is a bribe. 

_May_. What is the place?

_Mrs M_. I don't know what the place is, nor my lord does notknow what it is, but it is a great swingeing place. 

_May_. I will have the place first. I won't take a bribe, I willhave the place first; liberty and property! I'll have the placefirst. [_Exit_. 

_Mrs M_. Come, my dear, follow me; I'll see whether he shallvote according to his conscience or mine. 

 I'll teach mankind, while policy they boast, They bear the name of power, we rule the roast. 

_Trap_. There ends act the second. [_Exeunt_ Mrs _and_Miss Mayoress. ] Mr Fustian, I inculcate a particular moral at the endof every act; and therefore, might have put a particular motto beforeevery one, as the author of Caesar in Egypt has done: thus, sir, myfirst act sweetly sings, Bribe all; bribe all; and the second givesyou to Understand that we are all under petticoat-government; and mythird will--but you shall see. Enter my lord Place, colonel Promise, and several voters. My lord, you begin the third act. 

_Enter_ Lord PLACE, Col. PROMISE, and _several_ Voters. 

_Place_. Gentlemen, be assured I will take care of you all; youshall all be provided for as fast as possible; the customs and theexcise afford a great number of places. 

1 _Voter_. Could not your lordship provide for me at court?

_Place_. Nothing easier: what sort of a place would you like?

1 _Voter_. Is not there a sort of employment, sir, called--beef-eating?--If your lordship please to make me abeef-eater--I would have a place fitted for my capacity. 

_Place_. Sir, I will be sure to remember you. 

2 _Voter_. My lord, I should like a place at court too; I don'tmuch care what it is, provided I wear fine cloaths, and havesomething to do in the kitchen or the cellar; I own I should like thecellar, for I am a devilish lover of sack. 

_Place_. Sack, say you? Odso, you shall be poet-laureat. 

2 _Voter_. Poet! no, my lord, I am no poet, I can't make verses. 

_Place_. No matter for that--you'll be able to make odes. 

2 _Voter_. Odes, my lord! what are those?

_Place_. Faith, sir, I can't tell well what they are; but I knowyou may be qualified for the place without being a poet. 

_Trap_. Now, my lord, do you file off, and talk apart with yourpeople; and let the colonel advance. 

_Fust_. Ay, faith, I think it is high time for the colonel to beheard. 

_Col_. Depend upon it, sir; I'll serve you. 

_Fust_. Upon my word the colonel begins very well; but has notthat been said already?

_Trap_. Ay, and if I was to bring a hundred courtiers into myplay, they should all say it--none of them do it. 

3 _Voter_. An't please your honour, I have read in a book calledFog's Journal that your honour's men are to be made of wax; now, sir, I have served my time to a wax-work maker, and desire to make yourhonour's regiment. 

_CoL_ Sir, you may depend on me. 

3 _Voter_. Are your officers to be made of wax too, sir? becauseI would prepare a finer sort for them. 

_CoL_ No, none but the chaplain. 

3 _Voter_. O! I have a most delicate piece of black wax for him. 

_Trap_. You see, sir, the colonel can speak when militaryaffairs are on the carpet. Hitherto, Mr Fustian, the play has gone onin great tranquillity; now you shall see a scene of a more turbulentnature. Come, enter the mob of both sides, and cudgel one anotheroff the stage. Colonel, as your business is not to fight at present, I beg you would go off before the battle comes on; you and yourbrother candidate come into the middle of the stage; you voters rangeyourselves under your several leaders. [_The mob attempt to breakin_. ] Pray, gentlemen, keep back; mind, the colonel's going off isthe cue for the battle to enter. Now, my lord, and the colonel, youare at the head of your parties--but hold, hold, hold! youbeef-eater, go you behind my lord, if you please; and yousoldier-maker, come you behind the colonel: now, gentlemen, speak. 

_Place_ and _Col_ Gentlemen, we'll serve you. [_My lord and the colonel flle off at different doors, the parties following_. 

_Enter mob on each side of the stage, crying out promiscuously_. Down with the Rump! No courtiers! No Jacobites! Down with the pope!No excise! A Place and a Promise! A Fox-chace and a Tankard! _Atlast they fall together by the ears, and cudgel one another off thestage_. 

_Enter_ Sir HARRY, Squire TANKARD, _and_ Mayor. 

_Sir H_. Bravely done, my boys, bravely done; faith, our partyhas got the day. 

_May_. Ay, Sir Harry, at dry blows we always come off well; ifwe could but disband the army, I warrant we carried all ourpoints. But faith, sir, I have fought a hard battle on your account;the other side have secured my wife; my lord has promised her aplace, but I am not to be gulled in that manner: I may be taken likea fish in the water, by a bait; but not like the dog in the water, bya shadow. 

_Sir H_. I know you are an honest man, and love your country. 

_May_. Faith, that I do, Sir Harry, as well as any man; if mycountry will but let me live by it, that's all I desire. 

_Fust_. Mr Mayor seems to have got himself sober very suddenly. 

_Trap_. Yes, so would you too, I believe, if you had beenscolded at by your wife as long as he has; but if you think that isnot reason enough, he may be drunk still, for any reason I see to thecontrary: pray, sir, act this scene as if you was drunk. 

_Fust_. Nay, I must confess, I think it quite out of characterthe mayor to be once sober during the whole election. 

_Tank_. [_drunk_. ] A man that won't get drunk for hiscountry is a rascal. 

_May_. So he is, noble squire; there's no honesty in a man thatwon't be drunk--A man that won't drink is an enemy to the trade ofthe nation. 

_Sir H_. Those were glorious days when honest Englishhospitality flourished; when a country gentleman could afford to makehis neighbours drunk, before your damned French fashions were broughtover. Why, Mr Mayor, would you think it? there are many of thesecourtiers who have six starved footmen behind a coach, and not half ahogshead of wine in their house; why, how do you think all the moneyis spent?

_May_. Faith, I can't tell. 

_Sir H_. Why, in houses, pictures, lace, embroidery, nick-nacks, Italian singers, and French tumblers; and those who vote for themwill never get a dinner of them after the election is over. 

_May_. But there is a thought comes often into my head, which isthis; if these courtiers be turned out, who shall succeed them?

_Sir H_. Who? why, we!

_Tank_. Ay, we!

_Sir H_. And then we may provide for our friends. I love mycountry, but I don't know why I may not get something by it as wellas another; at least to reimburse me. --And I do assure you, though Ihave not bribed a single vote, my election will stand me in a goodfive thousand pounds. 

_Tank_. Ay, and so will mine me: but if ever we should getuppermost, Sir Harry, I insist upon immediately paying off the debtsof the nation. 

_Sir H_. Mr Tankard, that shall be done with all convenientspeed. 

_Tank_. I'll have no delay in it, sir. 

_May_. There spoke the spirit of a true Englishman: ah! I loveto hear the squire speak; he will be a great honour to his country inforeign parts. 

_Sir H_. Our friends stay for us at the tavern; we'll go andtalk more over a bottle. 

_Tank_. With all my heart; but I will pay off the debts of thenation. 

_May_. Come to the tavern then:-- There, while brisk wine improves our conversation, We at our pleasure will reform the nation. 

_Trap_. There ends act the third. 

 [_Exeunt_ Sir HARRY, TANKARD, _and_ Mayor. 

_Fust_. Pray, sir, what's the moral of this act?

_Trap_. And you really don't know?

_Fust_. No, really. 

_Trap_. Then I really will not tell you; but come, sir, sinceyou cannot find that out, I'll try whether you can find out the plot;for now it is just going to begin to open, it will require a veryclose attention, I assure you; and the devil take me if I give youany assistance. 

_Fust_. Is not the fourth act a little too late to open theplot, Mr Trapwit?

_Trap_. Sir, 'tis an error on the right side: I have known aplot open in the first act, and the audience, and the poet too, forget it before the third was over: now, sir, I am not willing toburden either the audience's memory or my own; for they may forgetall that is hitherto past, and know full as much of the plot as ifthey remembered it. 

_Promp_. Call Mr Mayor, Mrs Mayoress, and Miss. 

_Enter_ Mayor, Mrs _and_ Miss Mayoress. 

_Mrs M_. Oh! have I found you at last, sir? I have been huntingfor you this hour. 

_May_. Faith, my dear, I wish you had found me sooner; I havebeen drinking to the good old cause with Sir Harry and the squire:you would have been heartily welcome to all the company. 

_Mrs M_. Sir, I shall keep no such company; I shall conversewith no clowns or country squires. 

_Miss M_. My mama will converse with no Jacobites. 

_May_. But, my dear, I have some news for you; I have got a placefor myself now. 

_Mrs M_. O ho! then you will vote for my lord at last?

_May_. No, my dear; Sir Harry is to give me a place. 

_Mrs M_. A place in his dog-kennel?

_May_. No, 'tis such a one as you never could have got me frommy lord; I am to be made an embassador. 

_Mrs M_. What, is Sir Harry going to change sides then, that heis to have all this interest?

_May_. No, but the sides are going to be changed; and Sir Harryis to be--I don't know what to call him, not I--some very great man;and as soon as he is a very great man I am to be made an embassadorof. 

_Mrs M_. Made an ass of! Will you never learn of me that a birdin the hand is worth two in the bush?

_May_. Yes, but I can't find that you had the bird in hand; ifthat had been the case I don't know what I might have done; but I amsure any man's promise is as good as a courtier's. 

_Mrs M_. Look'ye, Mr Embassador that is to be; will you vote asI would have you or no? I am weary of arguing with a fool any longer;so, sir, I tell you you must vote for my lord and the colonel, orI'll make the house too hot to hold you; I'll see whether my poorfamily is to be ruined because you have whims. 

_Miss M_. I know he is a Jacobite in his heart. 

_Mrs M_. What signifies what he is in his heart? have not ahundred, whom everybody knows to be as great Jacobites as he, actedlike very good whigs? What has a man's heart to do with his lips? Idon't trouble my head with what he thinks; I only desire him to vote. 

_Miss M_. I am sure mama is a very reasonable woman. 

_Mrs M_. Yes, I am too reasonable a woman, and have used gentlemethods too long; but I'll try others. 

 [_Goes to a corner of the stage and takes a stick_. 

_May_. Nay, then, liberty and property, and no excise! [_Runs off_. 

_Mrs M_. I'll excise you, you villain! [_Runs after him_. 

_Miss M_. Hey ho! I wish somebody were here now. Would the manthat I love best in the world were here, that I might use him like adog!

_Fust_. Is not that a very odd wish, Mr Trapwit?

_Trap_. No, sir; don't all the young ladies in plays use alltheir lovers so? Should we not lose half the best scenes in ourcomedies else?

_Promp_. Pray, gentlemen, don't disturb the rehearsal so: whereis this servant? [_Enter_ Servant. ] Why don't you mind your cue?

_Serv_. Oh, ay, dog's my cue. Madam, here's Miss Stitch, thetaylor's daughter, come to wait on you. 

_Miss M_. Shew her in. What can the impertinent flirt want withme? She knows I hate her too for being of the other party: however, I'll be as civil to her as I can. [_Enter_ Miss STITCH. ] Dearmiss! your servant; this is an unexpected favour. 

_Miss S_. I am sure, madam, you have no reason to say so; for, though we are of different parties, I have always coveted youracquaintance. I can't see why people may not keep their principles tothemselves. [_Aside_. 

_Miss M_. Pray, miss, sit down. Well, have you any news in town?

_Miss S_. I don't know, my dear, for I have not been out thesethree days; and I have been employed all that time in reading one ofthe "Craftsmen:" 'tis a very pretty one; I have almost got it byheart. 

_Miss M_. [_Aside_. ] Saucy flirt! she might have sparedthat to me when she knows that I hate the paper. 

_Miss S_. But I ask your pardon, my dear; I know you never readit. 

_Miss M_. No, madam, I have enough to do to read the "DailyGazetteer. " My father has six of 'em sent him every week for nothing:they are very pretty papers, and I wish you would read them, miss. 

_Miss S_. Fie upon you! how can you read what's writ by an oldwoman?

_Miss M_. An old woman, miss?

_Miss S_. Yes, miss, by Mrs Osborne. Nay, it is in vain to denyit to me. 

_Miss M_. I desire, madam, we may discourse no longer on thissubject; for we shall never agree on it. 

_Miss S_. Well, then, pray let me ask you seriously--are youthoroughly satisfied with this peace?

_Miss M_. Yes, madam, and I think you ought to be so too. 

_Miss S_. I should like it well enough if I were sure the queenof Spain was to be trusted. 

_Miss M. [Rising. ]_ Pray miss, none of your insinuations againstthe queen of Spain. 

_Miss S_. Don't be in a passion, madam. 

_Miss M_. Yes, madam, but I will be in a passion, when theinterest of my country is at stake. 

_Miss S. [Rising. ]_ Perhaps, madam, I have a heart as warm inthe interest of my country as you can have; though I pay money forthe papers I read, and that's more than you can say. 

_Miss M_. Miss, miss, my papers are paid for too by somebody, though I don't pay for them; I don't suppose the old woman, as youcall her, sends 'em about at her own expence; but I'd have you toknow, miss, I value my money as little as you in my country's cause;and rather than have no army, I would part with every farthing ofthese sixteen shillings to maintain it. 

_Miss S_. And if my sweetheart was to vote for the colonel, though I like this fan of all the fans I ever saw in my life, I wouldtear it all to pieces, because it was his Valentine's gift to me. Oh, heavens! I have torn my fan; I would not have torn my fan for theworld! Oh! my poor dear fan! I wish all parties were at the devil, for I am sure I shall never get a fan by them. 

_Miss M_. Notwithstanding all you have said, madam, I should bea brute not to pity you under this calamity: comfort yourself, child, I have a fan the exact fellow to it; if you bring your sweetheartover to vote for the colonel you shall have it. 

_Miss S_. And can I sell my country for a fan? What's mycountry to me? I shall never get a fan by it. And will you give it mefor nothing?

_Miss M_. I'll make you a free present of it. 

_Miss S_. I am ashamed of your conquest, but I'll take the fan. 

_Miss M_. And now, my dear, we'll go and drink a dish of teatogether. And let all parties blame me if they can, Who're bribed by honours trifling as a fan. 

 [_Exeunt_ Misses. 

_Trap_. There ends act the fourth. If you want to know the moralof this, the devil must be in you. Faith, this incident of the fanstruck me so strongly that I was once going to call this comedy bythe name of The Fan. But come, now for act the fifth. 

_Promp_. Sir, the player who is to begin it is just steppedaside on some business; he begs you would stay a few minutes for him. 

_Trap_. Come, Fustian, you and I will step into the green-room, and chat with the actresses meanwhile. 

_Fust_. But don't you think these girls improper persons to talkof parties?

_Trap_. Sir, I assure you it is not out of nature: and I haveoften heard these affairs canvast by men who had not one whit moreunderstanding than these girls. 

 [_Exeunt_. 

ACT III. 

SCENE I. --Enter TRAPWIT, FUSTIAN, and SNEERWELL. 

_Trap_. Fie upon't, fie upon't! make no excuses. 

_Sneer_. Consider, sir, I am my own enemy. 

_Trap_. I do consider that you might have past your time, perhaps, here as well as in another place. 

_Sneer_. But I hope I have not transgressed much. 

_Trap_. All's over, sir, all's over; you might as well havestayed away entirely; the fifth act's beginning, and the plot's at anend. 

_Sneer_. What!'s the plot at an end before the fifth act isbegun?

_Trap_. No, no, no, no, I don't mean at an end;

but we are so far advanced in it that it will be impossible for youto comprehend or understand anything of it. 

_Fust_. You have too mean an opinion of Mr Sneerwell'scapacity; I'll engage he shall understand as much of it as I, whohave heard the other four. 

_Trap_. Sir, I can't help your want of understanding orapprehension; 'tis not my fault if you cannot take a hint, sir: wouldyou have a catastrophe in every act? Oons and the devil! have not Ipromised you you should know all by and by? but you are so impatient!

_Fust_. I think you have no reason to complain of my want ofpatience. Mr Sneerwell, be easy; 'tis but one short act before mytragedy begins; and that I hope will make you amends for what you areto undergo before it. Trapwit, I wish you would begin. 

_Trap_. I wish so too. Come, prompter! are the members in theirchairs?

_Promp_. Yes, sir. 

_Trap_. Then carry them over the stage: but, hold, hold, hold!where is the woman to strew the flowers? [_The members are carriedover the stage_. ] Halloo, mob, halloo, halloo! Oons, Mr Prompter!you must get more mob to halloo, or these gentlemen will never bebelieved to have had the majority. 

_Promp_. Sir, I can get no more mob; all the rest of the mob aregone to St James's-park to see the show. 

_Sneer_. Pray, Mr Trapwit, who are these gentlemen in thechairs?

_Trap_. Ay, sir, this is your staying away so long; if you hadbeen here the first four acts you would have known who they were. 

_Fust_. Dear Sneerwell, ask him no more questions; if youenquire into every absurdity you see we shall have no tragedy to-day. 

_Trap_. Come, Mr Mayor and Mrs Mayoress. 

_Enter_ Mayor _and_ Mrs Mayoress. 

_May_. So, now you have undone yourself your own way; you havemade me vote against my conscience and interest too, and now I havelost both parties. 

_Mrs M_. How have you lost both parties?

_May_. Why, my lord will never remember my voting for him, nowhe has lost the day; and Sir Harry, who has won it, will neverforgive my voting against him: let which side will be uppermost, Ishall have no place till the next election. 

_Mrs M_. It will be your own fault then, sir; for you have itnow in your power to oblige my lord more than ever; go and return mylord and the colonel as duly elected, and I warrant you I do yourbusiness with him yet. 

_May_. Return 'em, my dear? Why, there was a majority of two orthree score against 'em. 

_Mrs M_. A fig for a majority of two or three score! if therehad been a majority of as many hundreds, you'll never be called to anaccount for returning them; and when you have returned 'em, you'llhave done all in your power. How can you expect that great men shoulddo anything to serve you if you stick at anything to serve them?

_May_. My conscience boggles at this thing--but yet it isimpossible I should ever get anything by the other side. 

_Mrs M_. Ay, let that satisfy your conscience, that it is theonly way to get anything. 

_May_. Truly, I think it is. 

_Sneer_. I think, Mr Trapwit, interest would be a better wordthere than conscience. 

_Trap_. Ay, interest or conscience, they are words of the samemeaning; but I think conscience rather politer of the two, and mostused at court. 

_Mrs M_. Besides, it will do a service to your town, for half ofthem must be carried to London at the candidates' expence; and I dareswear there is not one of them, whatever side he votes of, but wouldbe glad to put the candidate to as much expence as he can in anhonest way. [_Exit_ Mayor. 

_Enter_ Miss Mayoress, _crying_. 

_Miss M_. Oh, mama, I have grieved myself to death at the courtparty's losing the day; for if the others should have a majority inthe house, what would become of us? alas, we should not go to London!

_Mrs M_. Dry up your tears, my dear, all will be well; yourfather shall return my lord and the colonel, and we shall have acontroverted election, and we will go to London, my dear. 

_Miss M_. Shall we go to London? then I am easy; but if we hadstaid here I should have broke my heart for the love of mycountry. --Since my father returns them, I hope justice will find somefriends above, where people have sense enough to know the right sidefrom the left; however, happen what will, there is some consolationin going to London. 

_Mrs M_. But I hope you have considered well what my lord toldyou, that you will not scruple going into keeping: perhaps, you willhave it in your power to serve your family, and it would be a greatsin not to do all you can for your family. 

_Miss M_. I have dreamt of nothing but coaches and six, andballs, and treats, and shows, and masquerades ever since. 

_Fust_. Dreamt, sir? why, I thought the time of your comedy hadbeen confined to the same day, Mr Trapwit?

_Trap_. No, sir, it is not; but suppose it was, might she nothave taken an afternoon's nap?

_Sneer_. Ay, or dreamt waking, as several people do. 

_Enter_ Lord PLACE _and_ Col. PROMISE. 

_Place_. Madam, I am come to take my leave of you; I am verysensible of my many obligations to you, and shall remember them tillthe next election, when I will wait on you again; nay, I don'tquestion but we shall carry our point yet, though they have given usthe trouble of a petition. 

_Mrs M_. No, no, my lord, you are not yet reduced to that; Ihave prevailed on my husband to return you and the colonel. 

_Place_. To return us, madam?

_Mrs M_. Yes, my lord, as duly elected; and when we havereturned you so, it will be your own fault if you don't proveyourself so. 

_Place_. Madam, this news has so transported my spirits, that Ifear some ill effect unless you instantly give me a dram. 

_Mrs M_. If your lordship please to walk with me into my closet, I'll equip your lordship. [_Exit_. 

_Trap_. How do you like that dram, sir?

_Sneer_. Oh! most excellent!

_Fust_. I can't say so, unless I tasted it. 

_Trap_. Faith, sir, if it had not been for that dram my play hadbeen at an end. 

_Fust_. The devil take the dram with all my heart!

_Trap_. Now, Mr Fustian, the plot, which has hitherto been onlycarried on by hints, and opened itself like the infant spring bysmall and imperceptible degrees to the audience, will display itselflike a ripe matron, in its full summer's bloom; and cannot, I think, fail with its attractive charms, like a loadstone, to catch theadmiration of every one like a trap, and raise an applause likethunder, till it makes the whole house like a hurricane. I mustdesire a strict silence through this whole scene. Colonel, stand youstill on this side of the stage; and, miss, do you stand on theopposite. --There, now look at each other. A long silence here. 

_Fust_. Pray, Mr Trapwit, is nobody ever to speak again?

_Trap_. Oh! the devil! You have interrupted the scene; after all myprecautions the scene's destroyed; the best scene of silence thatever was penned by man. Come, come, you may speak now; you may speakas fast as you please. 

_Col_. Madam, the army is very much obliged to you for the zealyou shew for it; me, it has made your slave for ever; nor can I everthink of being happy unless you consent to marry me. 

_Miss M_. Ha! and can you be so generous to forgive all my illusage of you?

_Fust_. What ill usage, Mr Trapwit? For, if I mistake not, thisis the first time these lovers spoke to one another. 

_Trap_. What ill usage, sir? a great deal, sir. 

_Fust_. When, sir? where, sir?

_Trap_. Why, behind the scenes, sir. What, would you haveeverything brought upon the stage? I intend to bring ours to thedignity of the French stage; and I have Horace's advice on myside. We have many things both said and done in our comedies whichmight be better performed behind the scenes: the French, you know, banish all cruelty from their stage; and I don't see why we shouldbring on a lady in ours practising all manner of cruelty upon herlover: besides, sir, we do not only produce it, but encourage it; forI could name you some comedies, if I would, where a woman is broughtin for four acts together, behaving to a worthy man in a manner forwhich she almost deserves to be hanged; and in the fifth, forsooth, she is rewarded with him for a husband: now, sir, as I know this hitssome tastes, and am willing to oblige all, I have given every lady alatitude of thinking mine has behaved in whatever manner she wouldhave her. 

_Sneer_. Well said, my little Trap! but pray let us have thescene. 

_Trap_. Go on, miss, if you please. 

_Miss M_. I have struggled with myself to put you to so manytrials of your constancy; nay, perhaps have indulged myself a littletoo far in the innocent liberties of abusing you, tormenting you, coquetting, lying, and jilting; which as you are so good to forgive, I do faithfully promise to make you all the amends in my power, bymaking you a good wife. 

_Trap_. That single promise, sir, is more than any of my brotherauthors had ever the grace to put into the mouth of any of their fineladies yet; so that the hero of a comedy is left in a much worsecondition than the villain of a tragedy, and I would choose rather tobe hanged with the one than married with the other. 

_Sneer_. Faith, Trapwit, without a jest, thou art in the righton't. 

_Fust_. Go on, go on, dear sir, go on. 

_Col_. And can you be so generous, so great, so good? Oh! loadnot thus my heart with obligations, lest it sink beneath its burden!Oh! could I live a hundred thousand years, I never could repay thebounty of that last speech! Oh! my paradise!

 Eternal honey drops from off your tongue! And when you spoke, then Farinelli sung!

_Trap_. Open your arms, miss, if you please; remember you are nocoquet now: how pretty this looks! don't it? [_Mimicking her_]Let me have one of your best embraces, I desire: do it once more, pray--There, there, that's pretty well; you must practise thisbehind the scenes. 

 [_Exeunt_ Miss M. _and_ Col. ]

_Sneer_. Are they gone to practice, now, Mr Trapwit?

_Trap_. You're a joker, Mr Sneerwell; you're a joker. 

_Enter_ Lord PLACE, Mayor, _and_ Mrs Mayoress. 

_Place_. I return you my hearty thanks, Mr Mayor, for thisreturn! and in return of the favour, I will certainly do you a verygood turn very shortly. 

_Fust_. I wish the audience don't do you an ill turn, Mr Trapwit, for that last speech. 

_Sneer_. Yes, faith, I think I would cut out a turn or two. 

_Trap_. Sir, I'll sooner cut off an ear or two: sir, that's thevery best thing in the whole play. Come, enter the colonel andMiss ------ married. 

_Sneer_. Upon my word, they have been very expeditious. 

_Trap_. Yes, sir; the parson understands his business, he hasplyed several years at the Fleet. 

_Enter_ Col. PROMISE and Miss Mayoress. 

_Col. And Miss (kneeling)_. Sir, and madam, your blessing. 

_Mrs M_. And May. Ha!

_Col_. Your daughter, sir and madam, has made me the happiest ofmankind. 

_Mrs M_. Colonel, you know you might have had my consent; whydid you choose to marry without it? However, I give you both myblessing. 

_May_. And so do I. 

_Place_. Then call my brother candidates; we will spend thisnight in feast and merriment. 

_Fust_. What has made these two parties so suddenly friends, Mr Trapwit?

_Trap_. What? why the marriage, sir; the usual reconciler at theend of a comedy. I would not have concluded without every person onthe stage for the world. 

_Place_. Well, colonel, I see you are setting out forlife, and so I wish you a good journey. And you, gallants, from what you've seen to-night, If you are wrong, may set your judgments right; Nor, like our misses, about bribing quarrel, When better herring is in neither barrel. 

[_Manent_ FUST, TRAP _and_ SNEER. ]

_Trap_. Thus ends my play, sir. 

_Fust_. Pray, Mr Trapwit, how has the former part of itconduced to this marriage?

_Trap_. Why, sir, do you think the colonel would ever have hadher but on the prospect her father has from this election?

_Sneer_. Ay, or to strengthen his interest with the returningofficer?

_Trap_. Ay, sir, I was just going to say so. 

_Sneer_. But where's your epilogue?

_Trap_. Faith, sir, I can't tell what I shall do for anepilogue. 

_Sneer_. What I have you writ none?

_Trap_. Yes, faith, I have writ one, but----

_Sneer_. But what?

_Trap_. Faith, sir, I can get no one to speak it; the actressesare so damn'd difficult to please. When first I writ it they wouldnot speak it, because there were not double-entendres enough in it;upon which I went to Mr Watt's and borrowed all his plays; wenthome, read over all the epilogues, and crammed it as full aspossible; and now, forsooth, it has too many in it. Oons! I think wemust get a pair of scales and weigh out a sufficient quantity of thatsame. 

_Fust_. Come, come, Mr Trapwit, clear the stage, if you please. 

_Trap_. With all my heart; for I have overstayed my timealready; I am to read my play to-day to six different companies ofquality. 

_Fust_. You'll stay and see the tragedy rehearsed, I hope?

_Trap_. Faith, sir, it is my great misfortune that I can't; Ideny myself a great pleasure, but cannot possibly stay--to hear suchdamn'd stuff as I know it must be. [_Aside_. 

_Sneer_. Nay, dear Trapwit, you shall not go. Consider, youradvice may be of some service to Mr Fustian; besides, he has stayedthe rehearsal of your play----

_Fust_. Yes, I have--and kept myself awake with much difficulty. [_Aside_. 

_Trap_. Nay, nay, you know I can't refuse you--though I shallcertainly fall asleep in the first act. [_Aside_. 

_Sneer_. If you'll let me know who your people of quality are, I'll endeavour to bring you off. 

_Trap_. No, no, hang me if I tell you, ha, ha, ha! I know youtoo well--But prithee, now, tell me, Fustian, how dost thou like myplay? dost think it will do?

_Fust_. 'Tis my opinion it will. 

_Trap_. Give me a guinea, and I'll give you a crown a night aslong as it runs. 

_Sneer_. That's laying against yourself, Mr Trapwit. 

_Trap_. I love a hedge, sir. 

_Fust_. Before the rehearsal begins, gentlemen, I must beg youropinion of my dedication: you know, a dedication is generally a billdrawn for value therein contained; which value is a set of nauseousfulsome compliments which my soul abhors and scorns; for I mortallyhate flattery, and therefore have carefully avoided it. 

_Sneer_. Yes, faith, a dedication without flattery will be worththe seeing. 

_Fust_. Well, sir, you shall see it. Read it, dear Trapwit; Ihate to read my own works. 

_Trap_. [_Reads_. ] "My lord, at a time when nonsense, dullness, lewdness, and all manner of profaneness and immorality aredaily practised on the stage, I have prevailed on my modesty to offerto your lordship's protection a piece which, if it has no merit torecommend it, has at least no demerit to disgrace it; nor do Iquestion at this, when every one else is dull, you will be pleased tofind one exception to the number. 

"I cannot indeed help assuming to myself some little merit from theapplause which the town has so universally conferred upon me. "

_Fust_. That you know, Mr Sneer well, may be omitted, if itshould meet with any ill-natured opposition; for which reason, Ishall not print off my dedication till after the play is acted. 

_Trap_. [_Reads_. ] "I might here indulge myself with adelineation of your lordship's character; but as I abhor the leastimputation of flattery, and as I am certain your lordship is the onlyperson in this nation that does not love to hear your praises, Ishall be silent--only this give me leave to say, That you have morewit, sense, learning, honour, and humanity, than all mankind puttogether; and your person comprehends in it everything that isbeautiful; your air is everything that is graceful, your lookeverything that is majestic, and your mind is a storehouse whereevery virtue and every perfection are lodged: to pass by yourgenerosity, which is so great, so glorious, so diffusive, that likethe sun it eclipses, and makes stars of all your other virtues--Icould say more----"

_Sneer_. Faith, sir, that's more than I could. 

_Trap_. "But shall commit a violence upon myself, and concludewith assuring your lordship, that I am, my lord, your lordship's mostobedient, most devoted, most obsequious, and most obliged humbleservant. "

_Fust_. There you see it, sir, concise, and not fulsome. 

_Sneer_. Very true, sir, if you had said less it would not havedone. 

_Fust_. No, I think less would have been downright rude, considering it was to a person of the first quality. 

_Sneer_. Prithee, Trap wit, let's see yours. 

_Trap_. I have none, sir. 

_Fust_. How, sir? no dedication?

_Trap_. No, sir, for I have dedicated so many plays, and receivednothing for them, that I am resolved to trust no more; I'll let nomore flattery go out of my shop without being paid beforehand. 

_Fust_. Sir, flattery is so cheap, and every man of quality keepsso many flatterers about him, that egad our trade is quite spoil'd;but if I am not paid for this dedication, the next I write shall be asatirical one; if they won't pay me for opening my mouth, I'll makethem pay me for shutting it. But since you have been so kind, gentlemen, to like my dedication, I'll venture to let you see myprologue. Sir, I beg the favour of you to repeat the prologue, if youare perfect in it. [_To a_ Player. ]

_Play_. Sir, I'll do it to the best of my power. 

_Fust_. This prologue was writ by a friend. 

PROLOGUE. 

When Death's sharp scythe has mowed the hero down, The muse again awakes him to renown;She tells proud Fate that all her darts are vain, And bids the hero live and strut about again:Nor is she only able to restore, But she can make what ne'er was made before;Can search the realms of Fancy, and createWhat never came into the brain of Fate. 

Forth from these realms, to entertain to-night, She brings imaginary kings and queens to light, Bids Common Sense in person mount the stage, And Harlequin to storm in tragick rage. Britons, attend; and decent reverence shewTo her, who made th' Athenian bosoms glow;Whom the undaunted Romans could revere, And who in Shakespeare's time was worshipp'd here:If none of these can her success presage, Your hearts at least a wonder may engage:Oh I love her like her sister monsters of the age. 

_Sneer_. Faith, sir, your friend has writ a very fine prologue. 

_Fust_. Do you think so? Why then, sir, I must assure you, thatfriend is no other than myself. But come, now for thetragedy. Gentlemen, I must desire you all to clear the stage, for Ihave several scenes which I could wish it was as big again for. 

2d Player _enters and whispers_ TRAPWIT. 

2 _Play_. Sir, a gentlewoman desires to speak to you. 

_Trap_. Is she in a chair?

_2 Play_. No, sir, she is in a riding-hood, and says she hasbrought you a clean shirt. [_Exit_. 

_Trap_. I'll come to her. --Mr Fustian, you must excuse me amoment; a lady of quality hath sent to take some boxes. [_Exit_. 

_Promp_. Common Sense, sir, desires to speak with you in thegreen-room. 

_Fust_. I'll wait upon her. 

_Sneer_. You ought, for it is the first message, I believe, youever received from her. [_Aside_. [_Exeunt_ Fus. _and_ SNEER. 

_Enter_ a Dancer. 

_Dane_. Look'e, Mr Prompter, I expect to dance first goddess; Iwill not dance under Miss Minuet; I am sure I shew more to theaudience than any lady upon the stage. 

_Promp_. Madam, it is not my business. 

_Dane_. I don't know whose business it is; but I think the townought to be the judges of a dancer's merit; I am sure they are on myside; and if I am not used better, I'll go to France; for now we havegot all their dancers away, perhaps they may be glad of some of ours. 

_Promp_. Heyday! what's the matter? [_A noise within_. 

_Enter_ Player. 

_Play_. The author and Common Sense are quarrelling in thegreen-room. 

_Promp_. Nay, then, that's better worth seeing thananything in the play. [_Exit_ Promp. 

_Danc_. Hang this play, and all plays; the dancers are the onlypeople that support the house; if it were not for us they might acttheir Shakspeare to empty benches. 

ACT IV. 

SCENE I. --_Enter_ FUSTIAN _and_ SNEERWELL. 

_Fust_. These little things, Mr Sneerwell, will sometimeshappen. Indeed a poet undergoes a great deal before he comes to histhird night; first with the muses, who are humorous ladies, and mustbe attended; for if they take it into their head at any time to goabroad and leave you, you will pump your brain in vain: then, sir, with the master of a playhouse to get it acted, whom you generallyfollow a quarter of a year before you know whether he will receive itor no; and then, perhaps, he tells you it won't do, and returns it toyou again, reserving the subject, and perhaps the name, which hebrings out in his next pantomime; but if he should receive the play, then you must attend again to get it writ out into parts andrehearsed. Well, sir, at last, the rehearsals begin; then, sir, beginsanother scene of trouble with the actors, some of whom don't liketheir parts, and all are continually plaguing you with alterations: atlength, after having waded through all these difficulties, his playappears on the stage, where one man hisses out of resentment to theauthor, a second out of dislike to the house, a third out of disliketo the actor, a fourth out of dislike to the play, a fifth for thejoke sake, a sixth to keep all the rest in company. Enemies abuse him, friends give him up, the play is damned, and the author goes to thedevil: so ends the farce. 

_Sneer_. The tragedy, rather, I think, Mr Fustian. But what'sbecome of Trapwit?

_Fust_. Gone off, I suppose; I knew he would not stay; he is sotaken up with his own performances, that he has no time to attend anyothers. But come, Prompter, will the tragedy never begin?

_Enter_ Prompter. 

_Promp_. Yes, sir, they are all ready; come, draw up the curtain. 

 [FIREBRAND, LAW, _and_ PHYSICK _discovered_. 

_Sneer_. Pray, Mr Fustian, who are these personages?

_Fust_. That in the middle, sir, is Firebrand, priest of the Sun;he on the right represents Law, and he on the left Physick. 

_Fireb_. Avert these omens, ye auspicious stars!

_Fust_. What omens? where the devil is the thunder and lightning!

_Promp_. Why don't you let go the thunder there, and flash yourrosin? [_Thunder and lightning_. 

_Fust_. Now, sir, begin if you please. I desire, sir, you willget a larger thunderbowl and two pennyworth more of lightning againstthe representation. Now, sir, if you please. 

_Fireb_. Avert these omens, ye auspicious stars!O Law! O Physick! As last, even late, I offer'd sacred incense in the temple, The temple shook--strange prodigies appeared;A cat in boots did dance a rigadoon, While a huge dog play'd on the violin;And whilst I trembling at the altar stood, Voices were heard i' th' air, and seem'd to say, "Awake, my drowsy sons, and sleep no more. "They must mean something!--

_Law_. Certainly they must. We have our omens too! The other dayA mighty deluge swam into our hall, As if it meant to wash away the law:Lawyers were forced to ride on porters' shoulders:One, O prodigious omen! tumbled down, And he and all his briefs were sous'd together. Now, if I durst my sentiments declare, I think it is not hard to guess the meaning. 

_Fireb_. Speak boldly; by the powers I serve, I swearYou speak in safety, even though you speakAgainst the gods, provided that you speakNot against priests. 

_Law_. What then can the powersMean by these omens, but to rouse us upFrom the lethargick sway of Common Sense?And well they urge, for while that drowsy queenMaintains her empire, what becomes of us?

_Phys_. My lord of Law, you speak my sentiments;For though I wear the mask of loyalty, And outward shew a reverence to the queen, Yet in my heart I hate her: yes, by heaven, She stops my proud ambition! keeps me downWhen I would soar upon an eagle's wing, And thence look down, and dose the world below. 

_Law_. Thou know'st, my lord of Physick, I had longBeen privileged by custom immemorial, In tongues unknown, or rather none at all, My edicts to deliver through the land;When this proud queen, this Common Sense abridgedMy power, and made me understood by all. 

_Phys_. My lord, there goes a rumour through the courtThat you descended from a familyRelated to the queen; Reason is saidT' have been the mighty founder of your house. 

_Law_. Perhaps so; but we have raised ourselves so high, And shook this founder from us off so far, We hardly deign to own from whence we came. 

_Fireb_. My lords of Law and Physick, I have heardWith perfect approbation all you've said:And since I know you men of noble spirit, And fit to undertake a glorious cause, I will divulge myself: know, through this mask, Which to impose on vulgar minds I wear, I am an enemy to Common Sense;But this not for Ambition's earthly cause, But to enlarge the worship of the Sun;To give his priests a just degree of power, And more than half the profits of the land. Oh! my good lord of Law, would'st thou assist, In spite of Common Sense it may be done. 

_Law_. Propose the method. 

_Fireb_. Here, survey this list. In it you'll find a certain set of names, Whom well I know sure friends to Common Sense;These it must be our care to representThe greatest enemies to the gods and her. But hush! the queen approaches. 

_Enter_ Queen COMMON SENSE, _attended by two_Maids of Honour. 

_Fust_. What! but two maids of honour?

_Promp_. Sir, a Jew carried off the other, but I shall be able topick up some more against the play is acted. 

_Q. C. S_. My lord of Law, I sent for you this morning;I have a strange petition given to me. Two men, it seems, have lately been at lawFor an estate, which both of them have lost, And their attorneys now divide between them. 

_Law_. Madam, these things will happen in the law. 

_Q. C. S_. Will they, my lord? then better we had none:But I have also heard a sweet bird sing, That men unable to discharge their debtsAt a short warning, being sued for them, Have, with both power and will their debts to pay, Lain all their lives in prison for their costs. 

_Law_. That may, perhaps, be some poor person's case, Too mean to entertain your royal ear. 

_Q. C. S_. My lord, while I am queen I shall not thinkOne man too mean or poor to be redress'd. Moreover, lord, I am informed your lawsAre grown so large, and daily yet increase, That the great age of old MethusalemWould scarce suffice to read your statutes out. 

_Fireb_. Madam, a more important cause demandsYour royal care; strange omens have appear'd;Sights have been seen, and voices have been heard, The gods are angry, and must be appeas'd;Nor do I know to that a readier wayThan by beginning to appease their priests, Who groan for power, and cry out after honour. 

_Q. C. S_. The gods, indeed, have reason for their anger, And sacrifices shall be offer'd to them;But would you make 'em welcome, priest, be meek, Be charitable, kind, nor dare affrontThe Sun you worship, while yourselves preventThat happiness to men you ask of him. 

_Enter an_ Officer. 

_Q. C. S_. What means this hasty message in your looks?

_Offic_. Forgive me, madam, if my tongue declaresNews for your sake, which most my heart abhors;Queen Ignorance is landed in your realm, With a vast power from Italy and FranceOf singers, fidlers, tumblers, and rope-dancers. 

_Q. C. S_. Order our army instantly to getThemselves in readiness; our self will head 'em. My lords, you are concerned as well as weT'oppose this foreign force, and we expectYou join us with your utmost levies straight. Go, priest, and drive all frightful omens hence;To fright the vulgar they are your pretence, But sure the gods will side with Common Sense. 

 [_Exit cum suis_. 

_Fireb_. They know their interest better; or at leastTheir priests do for 'em, and themselves. Oh! lords, This queen of Ignorance, whom you have heardJust now described in such a horrid form, Is the most gentle and most pious queen;So fearful of the gods, that she believesWhate'er their priests affirm. And by the Sun, Faith is no faith if it falls short of that. I'd be infallible; and that, I know, Will ne'er be granted me by Common Sense:Wherefore I do disclaim her, and will joinThe cause of Ignorance. And now, my lords, Each to his post. The rostrum I ascend;My lord of Law, you to your courts repair;And you, my good lord Physick, to the queen;Handle her pulse, potion and pill her well. 

_Phys_. Oh! my good lord, had I her royal ear, Would she but take the counsel I would give, You'd need no foreign power to overthrow her:Yes, by the gods! I would with one small pillUnhinge her soul, and tear it from her body;But to my art and me a deadly foe, She has averr'd, ay, in the publick court, That Water Gruel is the best physician;For which, when she's forgiven by the college, Or when we own the sway of Common Sense, May we be forced to take our own prescriptions!

_Fireb_. My lord of Physick, I applaud thy spirit. Yes, by the Sun, my heart laughs loud within me, To see how easily the world's deceived;To see this Common Sense thus tumbled downBy men whom all the cheated nations ownTo be the strongest pillars of her throne. 

 [_Exeunt_ FIREB. , LAW, _and_ PHYS. 

_Fust_. Thus ends the first act, sir. 

_Sneer_. This tragedy of yours, Mr Fustian, I observe to beemblematical; do you think it will be understood by the audience?

_Fust_. Sir, I cannot answer for the audience; though I think thepanegyrick intended by it is very plain and very seasonable. 

_Sneer_. What panegyrick?

_Fust_. On our clergy, sir, at least the best of them, to shewthe difference between a heathen and a Christian priest. And, as Ihave touched only on generals, I hope I shall not be thought to bringanything improper on the stage, which I would carefully avoid. 

_Sneer_. But is not your satire on law and physick somewhat toogeneral?

_Fust_. What is said here cannot hurt either an honest lawyer or agood physician; and such may be, nay, I know such are: if theopposites to these are the most general I cannot help that; as for theprofessors themselves, I have no great reason to be their friend, forthey once joined in a particular conspiracy against me. 

_Sneer_. Ah, how so?

_Fust_. Why, an apothecary brought me in a long bill, and alawyer made me pay it. 

_Sneer_. Ha, ha, ha! a conspiracy, indeed!

_Fust_. Now, sir, for my second act; my tragedy consists but ofthree. 

_Sneer_. I thought that had been immethodical in tragedy. 

_Fust_. That may be; but I spun it out as long as I could keepCommon Sense alive; ay, or even her ghost. Come, begin the second act. 

_The scene draws and discovers_ QUEEN COMMON SENSE _asleep_. 

_Sneer_. Pray, sir, who's that upon the couch there?

_Fust_. I thought you had known her better, sir: that's CommonSense asleep. 

_Sneer_. I should rather have expected her at the head of herarmy. 

_Fust_. Very likely, but you do not understand the practicalrules of writing as well as I do; the first and greatest of which isprotraction, or the art of spinning, without which the matter of aplay would lose the chief property of all other matter, namely, extension; and no play, sir, could possibly last longer than half anhour. I perceive, Mr Sneerwell, you are one of those who would have nocharacter brought on but what is necessary to the business of theplay. --Nor I neither--But the business of the play, as I take it, isto divert, and therefore every character that diverts is necessary tothe business of the play. 

_Sneer_. But how will the audience be brought to conceive anyprobable reason for this sleep?

_Fust_. Why, sir, she has been meditating on thepresent general peace of Europe, till by too intense anapplication, being not able thoroughly to comprehendit, she was overpowered and fell fast asleep. Come, ring up the first ghost. [_Ghost arises_. ] You knowthat ghost?

_Sneer_. Upon my word, sir, I can't recollect anyacquaintance with him. 

_Fust_. I am surprized at that, for you must haveseen him often: that's the ghost of Tragedy, sir; hehas walked all the stages of London several years;but why are not you floured?--What the devil isbecome of the barber?

_Ghost_. Sir, he's gone to Drury-lane playhouse toshave the Sultan in the new entertainment. 

_Fust_. Come, Mr Ghost, pray begin. 

_Ghost_. From the dark regions of the realms belowThe ghost of Tragedy has ridden post;To tell thee, Common Sense, a thousand things, Which do import thee nearly to attend: [_Cock crows_. But, ha! the cursed cock has warn'd me hence;I did set out too late, and therefore mustLeave all my business to some other time. 

 [_Ghost descends_. 

_Sneer_. I presume this is a character necessary to divert; for Ican see no great business he has fulfilled. 

_Fust_. Where's the second ghost?

_Sneer_. I thought the cock had crowed. 

_Fust_. Yes, but the second ghost need not be supposed to haveheard it. Pray, Mr Prompter, observe, the moment the first ghostdescends the second is to rise: they are like the twin stars in that. 

 [2 _Ghost rises_. 

2 _Ghost_. Awake, great Common Sense, and sleep no more. Look to thyself; for then, when I was slain, Thyself was struck at; think not to surviveMy murder long; for while thou art on earth, The convocation will not meet again. The lawyers cannot rob men of their rights;Physicians cannot dose away their souls;A courtier's promise will not be believed;Nor broken citizens again be trusted. A thousand newspapers cannot subsistIn which there is not any news at all. Playhouses cannot flourish, while they dareTo nonsense give an entertainment's name. Shakspeare, and Jonson, Dryden, Lee, and Rowe, Thou wilt not bear to yield to Sadler's Wells;Thou wilt not suffer men of wit to starve, And fools, for only being fools, to thrive. Thou wilt not suffer eunuchs to be hiredAt a vast price, to be impertinent. [3 _Ghost rises_. 

3 _Ghost_. Dear ghost, the cock has crow'd; you cannot getUnder the ground a mile before 'tis day. 

2 _Ghost_. Your humble servant then, I cannot stay. [_Ghost descends_. 

_Fust_. Thunder and lightning! thunder and lightning! Pray don'tforget this when it is acted. 

_Sneer_. Pray, Mr Fustian, why must a ghost always rise in astorm of thunder and lightning? for I have read much of that doctrineand don't find any mention of such ornaments. 

_Fust_. That may be, but they are very necessary: they are indeedproperly the paraphernalia of a ghost. 

_Sneer_. But, pray, whose ghost was that?

_Fust_. Whose should it be but Comedy's? I thought, when you hadbeen told the other was Tragedy, you would have wanted no intimationwho this was. Come, Common Sense, you are to awake and rub your eyes. 

_Q. C. S_. [_Waking_. ] Who's there?--

_Enter_ Maid of Honour. 

Did you not hear or see some wond'rous thing?

_Maid_. No, may it please your majesty, I did not. 

_Q. C. S_. I was a-dream'd I overheard a ghost. 

_Maid_. In the next room I closely did attend, And had a ghost been here I must have heard him. 

_Enter_ FIREBRAND. 

_Q. C. S_. Priest of the Sun, you come most opportune, For here has been a dreadful apparition:As I lay sleeping on my couch, methoughtI saw a ghost. 

_Sneer_. Then I suppose she sleeps with her eyes open. 

_Fust_. Why, you would not have Common Sense see a ghost, unlessin her sleep, I hope. 

_Fireb_. And if such tolerationBe suffer'd as at present you maintain, Shortly your court will be a court of ghosts. Make a huge fire and burn all unbelievers:Ghosts will be hang'd ere venture near a fire. 

_Q. C. S_. Men cannot force belief upon themselves, And shall I then by torture force it on them?

_Fireb_. The Sun will have it so. 

_Q. C. S_. How do I know that?

_Fireb_. Why I, his priest infallible, have told you. 

_Q. C. S_. How do I know you are infallible?

_Fireb_. Ha! do you doubt it! nay, if you doubt that, I will prove nothing. But my zeal inspires me, And I will tell you, madam, you yourselfAre a most deadly enemy to the Sun;And all his priests have greatest cause to wishYou had been never born. 

_Q. C. S_. Ha! sayest thou, priest?Then know, I honour and adore the Sun:And when I see his light, and feel his warmth, I glow with flaming gratitude towards him;But know, I never will adore a priest, Who wears pride's face beneath religion's mask, And makes a pick-lock of his pietyTo steal away the liberty of mankind:But while I live, I'll never give thee power. 

_Fireb_. Madam, our power is not derived from you, Nor any one: 'twas sent us in a boxFrom the great Sun himself, and carriage paid:Phaeton brought it when he overturn'dThe chariot of the Sun into the sea. 

_Q. C. S_. Shew me the instrument and let me read it. 

_Fireb_. Madam, you cannot read it, for, being thrownInto the sea, the water has so damaged itThat none but priests could ever read it since. 

_Q. C. S_. And do you think I can believe this tale?

_Fireb_. I order you to believe it, and you must. 

_Q. C. S_. Proud and imperious man, I can't believe it. Religion, law, and physick, were design'dBy heaven the greatest blessings on mankind;But priests, and lawyers, and physicians, madeThese general goods to each a private trade;With each they rob, with each they fill their purses, And turn our benefits into our curses. [_Exit_. 

_Fust_. Law and Physick. Where's Law?

_Enter_ PHYSIC. 

_Phys_. Sir, Law, going without the playhouse passage, was taken up by a lord chief-justice's warrant. 

_Fireb_. Then we must go on without him. 

_Fust_. No, no, stay a moment; I must get somebodyelse to rehearse the part. Pox take all warrants forme! if I had known this before I would have satirizedthe law ten times more than I have. 

ACT V. 

SCENE I. --_Enter_ FUSTIAN, SNEERWELL, Prompter, FIREBRAND, LAW, PHYSICK. 

_Fust_. I am glad you have made your escape; but I hope you willmake the matter up before the day of action: come, Mr Firebrand, nowif you please go on; the moment Common Sense goes off the stage Lawand Physick enter. 

_Fireb_. Oh! my good lords of Physick and of Law, Had you been sooner here you would have heardThe haughty queen of Common Sense throw outAbuses on us all. 

_Law_. I am not nowTo learn the hatred which she bears to me. No more of that--for now the warlike queenOf Ignorance, attended with a trainOf foreigners, all foes to Common Sense, Arrives at Covent-garden; and we oughtTo join her instantly with all our force. At Temple-bar some regiments parade;The colonels, Clifford, Thavies, and Furnival, Through Holborn lead their powers to Drury-lane, Attorneys all compleatly armed in brass:These, bailiffs and their followers will join, With justices, and constables, and watchmen. 

_Phys_. In Warwick-lane my powers expect me now:A hundred chariots with a chief in each, Well-famed for slaughter, in his hand he bearsA feather'd dart that seldom errs in flight. Next march a band of choice apothecaries, Each arm'd with deadly pill; a regimentOf surgeons terrible maintain the rear. All ready first to kill, and then dissect. 

_Fireb_. My lords, you merit greatly of the queen, And Ignorance shall well repay your deeds;For I foretel that by her influenceMen shall be brought (what scarce can be believed)To bribe you with large fees to their undoing. Success attend your glorious enterprize;I'll go and beg it earnest of the Sun:I, by my office, am from fight debarr'd, But I'll be with you ere the booty's shared. 

 [_Exeunt_ FIREBRAND, LAW, _and_ PHYSICK

_Fust_. Now, Mr Sneerwell, we shall begin my third and last act;and I believe I may defy all the poets who have ever writ, or everwill write, to produce its equal: it is, sir, so crammed with drumsand trumpets, thunder and lightning, battles and ghosts, that Ibelieve the audience will want no entertainment after it: it is asfull of shew as Merlin's cave itself; and for wit--no rope-dancing ortumbling can come near it. Come, begin. 

 [_A ridiculous march is played_. 

_Enter_ Queen IGNORANCE, _attended with_ Singers, Fidlers, Rope-dancers, Tumblers, &c. 

_Q. Ign_. Here fix our standard; what is this place called?

1_Att_. Great madam, Covent-garden is its name. 

_Q. Ign_. Ha! then methinks we have ventured too far, Too near those theatres where Common SenseMaintains her garrisons of mighty force;Who, should they sally on us ere we're joinedBy Law and Physick, may offend us much. 

 [_Drum beats within_. 

But ha! what means this drum?

1_Att_. It beats a parley, not a point of war

_Enter_ HARLEQUIN. 

_Harl_. To you, great queen of Ignorance, I comeEmbassador from the two theatres;Who both congratulate you on your arrival;And to convince you with what hearty meaningThey sue for your alliance, they have sentTheir choicest treasure here as hostages, To be detain'd till you are well convincedThey're not less foes to Common Sense than you. 

_Q. Ign_. Where are the hostages?

_Harl_. Madam, I have broughtA catalogue, and all therein shall beDeliver'd to your order; but consider, Oh mighty queen! they offer you their all;And gladly for the least of these would giveTheir poets and their actors in exchange. 

_Q. Ign_. Read the catalogue. 

_Harl_. [_Reads_. ] "A tall man, and a tall woman, hired at avast price. A strong man exceeding dear. Two dogs that walk on theirhind legs only, and personate human creatures so well, they might bemistaken for them. A human creature that personates a dog so well thathe might almost be taken for one. Two human cats. A most curious setof puppies. A pair of pigeons. A set of rope-dancers and tumblers fromSadler's-wells. "

_Q. Ign_. Enough, enough; and is it possibleThat they can hold alliance with my friendsOf Sadler's-wells? then are they foes indeedTo Common Sense, and I'm indebted to 'em. Take back their hostages, for they may need 'em;And take this play, and bid 'em forthwith act it;There is not in it either head or tail. 

_Harl_. Madam, they will most gratefully receive it. The character you give would recommend it, Though it had come from a less powerful hand. 

_Q. Ign_. The Modish Couple is its name; myselfStood gossip to it, and I will supportThis play against the town. 

_I Att_. Madam, the queenOf Common Sense advances with her powers. 

_Q. Ign_. Draw up my men, I'll meet her as I ought;This day shall end the long dispute between us. 

_Enter_ Queen COMMON SENSE _with a_ Drummer. 

_Fust_. Hey-day! where's Common Sense's army?

_Promp_. Sir, I have sent all over the town, andcould not get one soldier for her, except that poordrummer, who was lately turned out of an Irish regiment. 

_Drum_. Upon my shoul but I have been a drummerthese twenty years, master, and have seen no wars yet;and I was willing to learn a little of my trade before Idied. 

_Fust_. Hush, sirrah! don't you be witty; that is notin your part. 

_Drum_. I don't know what is in my part, sir; but Tdesire to have something in it; for I have been tiredof doing nothing a great while. 

_Fust_. Silence!

_Q. C. S_. What is the reason, madam, that you bringThese hostile arms into my peaceful realm?

_Q. Ign. To ease your subjects from that dire oppressionThey groan beneath, which longer to supportUnable, they invited my redress. 

_Q. C. S_. And can my subjects then complain of wrong?Base and ungrateful! what is their complaint?

_Q. Ign_. They say you do impose a tax of thoughtUpon their minds, which they're too weak to bear. 

_Q. C. S_. Wouldst thou from thinking then absolve mankind?

_Q. Ign_. I would, for thinking only makes men wretched;And happiness is still the lot of fools. Why should a wise man wish to think, when thoughtStill hurts his pride; in spite of all his art, Malicious fortune, by a lucky trainOf accidents, shall still defeat his schemes, And set the greatest blunderer above him. 

_Q. C. S_. Urgest thou that against me, which thyselfHas been the wicked cause of? Which thy power, Thy artifice, thy favourites have done?Could Common Sense bear universal sway, No fool could ever possibly be great. 

_Q. Ign_. What is this folly, which you try to paintIn colours so detestable and black?Is't not the general gift of fate to men?And though some few may boast superior sense, Are they not call'd odd fellows by the rest?In any science, if this sense peep forth, Shew men the truth, and strive to turn their stepsFrom ways wherein their gross forefathers err'd, Is not the general cry against them straight?

_Sneer_. This Ignorance, Mr Fustian, seems to knowa great deal. 

_Fust_. Yes, sir, she knows what she has seen so often; but youfind she mistakes the cause, and Common Sense can never beat it intoher. 

_Q. Ign_. Sense is the parent still of fear; the fox, Wise beast, who knows the treachery of men, Flies their society, and skulks in woods, While the poor goose, in happiness and ease, Fearless grows fat within its narrow coop, And thinks the hand that feeds it is its friend;Then yield thee, Common Sense, nor rashly dareTry a vain combat with superior force. 

_Q. C. S_. Know, queen, I never will give up the causeOf all these followers: when at the headOf all these heroes I resign my right, May my curst name be blotted from the earth!

_Sneer_. Methinks, Common Sense, though, ought to give it up, when she has no more to defend it. 

_Fust_. It does indeed look a little odd at present; but I'll gether an army strong enough against its acted. Come, go on. 

_Q. Ign_. Then thus I hurl defiance at thy head. Draw all your swords. 

_Q. C. S_. And, gentlemen, draw yours. 

_Q. Ign_. Fall on; have at thy heart. 

 [_A fight_

_Q. C. S_. And have at thine. 

_Fust_. Oh, fie upon't, fie upon't! I never saw a worse battle inall my life upon any stage. Pray, gentlemen, come some of you over tothe other side. 

_Sneer_. These are Swiss soldiers, I perceive, Mr Fustian; theycare not which side they fight of. 

_Fust_. Now, begin again, if you please, and fight away; prayfight as if you were in earnest, gentlemen. [_They fight_. ]Oons, Mr Prompter! I fancy you hired these soldiers out of the trainedbands--they are afraid to fight even in jest. [_They fightagain_. ] There, there--pretty well. I think, Mr Sneerwell, we havemade a shift to make out a good sort of a battle at last. 

_Sneer_. Indeed I cannot say I ever saw a better. 

_Fust_. You don't seem, Mr Sneerwell, to relish this battlegreatly. 

_Sneer_. I cannot profess myself the greatest admirer of thispart of tragedy; and I own my imagination can better conceive the ideaof a battle from a skilful relation of it than from such arepresentation; for my mind is not able to enlarge the stage into avast plain, nor multiply half a score into several thousands. 

_Fust_. Oh; your humble servant! but if we write to please youand half a dozen others, who will pay the charges of the house? Sir, if the audience will be contented with a battle or two, instead of allthe raree-fine shows exhibited to them in what they callentertainments----

_Sneer_. Pray, Mr Fustian, how came they to give the name ofentertainments to their pantomimical farces?

_Fust_. Faith, sir, out of their peculiar modesty; intimatingthat after the audience had been tired with the dull works ofShakspeare, Jonson, Vanbrugh, and others, they are to be entertainedwith one of these pantomimes, of which the master of the playhouse, two or three painters, and half a score dancing-masters are thecompilers. What these entertainments are, I need not inform you, whohave seen 'em; but I have often wondered how it was possible for anycreature of human understanding, after having been diverted for threehours with the production of a great genius, to sit for three more andsee a set of people running about the stage after one another, withoutspeaking one syllable, and playing several juggling tricks, which aredone at Fawks's after a much better manner; and for this, sir, thetown does not only pay additional prices, but loses several fine partsof its best authors, which are cut out to make room for the saidfarces. 

_Sneer_. 'Tis very true; and I have heard a hundred say the samething, who never failed being present at them. 

_Fust_. And while that happens, they will force any entertainmentupon the town they please, in spite of its teeth. [_Ghost of_COMMON SENSE _rises_. ] Oons, and the devil, madam! what's themeaning of this? You have left out a scene. Was ever such an absurdityas for your ghost to appear before you are killed. 

_Q. C. S_. I ask pardon, sir; in the hurry of the battle I forgotto come and kill myself. 

_Fust_. Well, let me wipe the flour off your face then. And now, if you please, rehearse the scene; take care you don't make thismistake any more though, for it would inevitably damn the play if youshould. Go to the corner of the scene, and come in as if you had lostthe battle. 

_Q. C. S_. Behold the ghost of Common Sense appears. 

_Fust_. 'Sdeath, madam, I tell you you are no ghost--you are notkilled. 

_Q. C. S_. Deserted and forlorn, where shall I fly. The battle's lost, and so are all my friends. 

_Enter a_ Poet. 

_Poet_. Madam, not so; still you have one friend left. 

_Q. C. S_. Why, what art thou?

_Poet_. Madam, I am a poet. 

_Q. C. S_. Whoe'er thou art, if thou'rt a friend to misery, Know Common Sense disclaims thee. 

_Poet_. I have been damn'dBecause I was your foe, and yet I stillCourted your friendship with my utmost art. 

_Q. C. S_. Fool! thou wert damn'd because thou didst pretendThyself my friend; for hadst thou boldly dared, Like Hurlothrumbo, to deny me quite, Or, like an opera or pantomime, Profess'd the cause of Ignorance in publick, Thou might'st have met with thy desired success;But men can't bear even a pretence to me. 

_Poet_. Then take a ticket for my benefit night. 

_Q. C. S_. I will do more--for Common Sense will stayQuite from your house, so may you not be damn'd. 

_Poet_. Ha! say'st thou? By my soul, a better playNe'er came upon a stage; but, since you dareContemn me thus, I'll dedicate my playTo Ignorance, and call her Common Sense:Yes, I will dress her in your pomp, and swearThat Ignorance knows more than all the world. [_Exit_. 

_Enter_ FIREBRAND. 

_Fireb_. Thanks to the Sun for this desired encounter. 

_Q. C. S_. Oh, priest! all's lost; our forces are o'erthrown--Some gasping lie, but most are run away. 

_Fireb_. I knew it all before, and told you tooThe Sun has long been out of humour with you. 

_Q. C. S_. Dost thou, then, lay upon the Sun the faultsOf all those cowards who forsook my cause?

_Fireb_. Those cowards all were most religious men:And I beseech thee, Sun, to shine upon them. 

_Q. C. S_. Oh, impudence! and darest thou to my face?--

_Fireb_. Yes, I dare more; the Sun presents you this, [_Stabs her_. Which I, his faithful messenger, deliver. 

_Q. C. S_. Oh, traytor! thou hast murder'd Common Sense. Farewel, vain world! to Ignorance I give thee, Her leaden sceptre shall henceforward rule. Now, priest, indulge thy wild ambitious thoughts;Men shall embrace thy schemes, till thou hast drawnAll worship from the Sun upon thyself:Henceforth all things shall topsy-turvy turn;Physick shall kill, and Law enslave the world;Cits shall turn beaus, and taste Italian songs, While courtiers are stock-jobbing in the city. Places requiring learning and great partsHenceforth shall all be hustled in a hat, And drawn by men deficient in them both. Statesmen--but oh! cold death will let me sayNo more--and you must guess _et caetera_. [_Dies_. 

_Fireb_. She's gone! but ha! it may beseem me illT' appear her murderer. I'll therefore layThis dagger by her side; and that will beSufficient evidence, with a little money, To make the coroner's inquest find self-murder. I'll preach her funeral sermon, and deploreHer loss with tears, praise her with all my art. Good Ignorance will still believe it all. [_Exit_. 

_Enter_ Queen IGNORANCE, &c. 

_Q. Ign_. Beat a retreat; the day is now our own;The powers of Common Sense are all destroy'd;Those that remain are fled away with her. I wish, Mr Fustian, this speech be common sense. 

_Sneer_. How the devil should it, when she's dead?

_Fust_. One would think so, when a cavil is made against the bestthing in the whole play; and I would willingly part with anything elsebut those two lines. 

_Harl_. Behold! where welt'ring in her blood she lies. I wish, sir, you would cut out that line, or alter it, ifyou please. 

_Fust_. That's another line that I won't part with;I would consent to cut out anything but the chief beauties of my play. 

_Harl_. Behold the bloody dagger by her side, With which she did the deed. 

_Q. Ign_. 'Twas nobly done!I envy her her exit, and will payAll honours to her dust. Bear hence her body, And let her lie in state in Goodman's fields. 

_Enter_ Messenger. 

_Mess_. Madam, I come an envoy from Crane-court. The great society that there assembleCongratulate your victory, and requestThat firm alliance henceforth may subsistBetween your majesty's societyOf Grub-street and themselves: they rather begThat they may be united both in one. They also hope your majesty's acceptanceOf certain curiosities, which inThat hamper are contain'd, wherein you'll findA horse's tail, which has a hundred hairsMore than are usual in it; and a toothOf elephant full half an inch too long;With turnpike-ticket like an ancient coin. 

_Q. Ign_. We gratefully accept their bounteous gifts, And order they be kept with proper care, Till we do build a place most fit to holdThese precious toys: tell your societyWe ever did esteem them of great worth, And our firm friends: and tell 'em 'tis our pleasureThey do prepare to dance a jig before us. [_Exit_ Messenger

My lords of Law and Physick, you shall findI will not be ungrateful for your service:To you, good Harlequin, and your allies, And you, Squeekaronelly, I will beA most propitious queen--But ha! [_Music under the stage_. What hideous music or what yell is this?Sure 'tis the ghost of some poor opera tune. 

_Sneer_. The ghost of a tune, Mr Fustian!

_Fust_. Ay, sir, did you never hear one before? I had once a mindto have brought the apparition of Musick in person upon the stage, inthe shape of an English opera. Come, Mr Ghost of the Tune, if youplease to appear in the sound of soft musick, and let the ghost ofCommon Sense rise to it. 

[_Ghost of_ COMMON SENSE _rises to soft musick_. 

_Ghost_. Behold the ghost of Common Sense appears. Caitiffs, avaunt! or I will sweep you off, And clean the land from such infernal vermin. 

_Q. Ign_. A ghost! a ghost! a ghost! haste, scamper off, My friends; we've kill'd the body, and I knowThe ghost will have no mercy upon us. 

_Omnes_. A ghost! a ghost! a ghost! [_Run off_. 

_Ghost_. The coast is clear, and to her native realmsPale Ignorance with all her host is fled, Whence she will never dare invade us more. Here, though a ghost, I will my power maintain, And all the friends of Ignorance shall findMy ghost, at least, they cannot banish hence;And all henceforth, who murder Common Sense, Learn from these scenes that, though success you boast. You shall at last be haunted with her ghost. 

_Sneer_. I am glad you make Common Sense get the better at last;I was under terrible apprehensions for your moral. 

_Fust_. Faith, sir, this is almost the only play where she hasgot the better lately. But now for my epilogue: if you please tobegin, madam. 

EPILOGUE

GHOST. 

The play once done, the epilogue, by rule, Should come and turn it all to ridicule;Should tell the ladies that the tragic bards, Who prate of Virtue and her vast rewards, Are all in jest, and only fools should heed 'em;For all wise women flock to mother Needham. This is the method epilogues pursue, But we to-night in everything are new. Our author then, in jest throughout the play, Now begs a serious word or two to say. Banish all childish entertainments hence;Let all that boast your favour have pretence, If not to sparkling wit, at least to sense. With soft Italian notes indulge your ear;But let those singers, who are bought so dear, Learn to be civil for their cheer at least, Nor use like beggars those who give the feast. And though while musick for herself may carve, Poor Poetry, her sister-art, must starve;Starve her at least with shew of approbation, Nor slight her, while you search the whole creationFor all the tumbling-skum of every nation. Can the whole world in science match our soil?Have they a LOCKE, a NEWTON, or a BOYLE?Or dare the greatest genius of their stageWith SHAKSPEARE or immortal BEN engage?

Content with nature's bounty, do not craveThe little which to other lands she gave;Nor like the cock a barley corn preferTo all the jewels which you owe to her. 

 * * * * *

AN ESSAY ON CONVERSATION. 

Man is generally represented as an animal formed for, and delightedin, society; in this state alone, it is said, his various talents canbe exerted, his numberless necessities relieved, the dangers he isexposed to can be avoided, and many of the pleasures he eagerlyaffects enjoyed. If these assertions be, as I think they are, undoubtedly and obviously certain, those few who have denied man to bea social animal have left us these two solutions of their conduct;either that there are men as bold in denial as can be found inassertion--and as Cicero says there is no absurdity which somephilosopher or other hath not asserted, so we may say there is notruth so glaring that some have not denied it;--or else that theserejectors of society borrow all their information from their ownsavage dispositions, and are, indeed, themselves, the only exceptionsto the above general rule. 

But to leave such persons to those who have thought them more worthyof an answer; there are others who are so seemingly fond of thissocial state, that they are understood absolutely to confine it totheir own species; and entirely excluding the tamer and gentler, theherding and flocking parts of the creation, from all benefits of it, to set up this as one grand general distinction between the human andthe brute species. 

Shall we conclude this denial of all society to the nature of brutes, which seems to be in defiance of every day's observation, to be asbold as the denial of it to the nature of men? or, may we not morejustly derive the error from an improper understanding of this wordsociety in too confined and special a sense? in a word, do those whoutterly deny it to the brutal nature mean any other by society thanconversation?

Now, if we comprehend them in this sense, as I think we veryreasonably may, the distinction appears to me to be truly just; forthough other animals are not without all use of society, yet thisnoble branch of it seems, of all the inhabitants of this globe, confined to man only; the narrow power of communicating some few ideasof lust, or fear, or anger, which may be observable in brutes, fallinginfinitely short of what is commonly meant by conversation, as may bededuced from the origination of the word itself, the only accurateguide to knowledge. The primitive and literal sense of this word is, Iapprehend, to turn round together; and in its more copious usage weintend by it that reciprocal interchange of ideas by which truth isexamined, things are, in a manner, turned round and sifted, and allour knowledge communicated to each other. 

In this respect man stands, I conceive, distinguished from, andsuperior to, all other earthly creatures; it is this privilege which, while he is inferior in strength to some, in swiftness to others;without horns or claws or tusks to attack them, or even to defendhimself against them, hath made him master of them all. Indeed, inother views, however vain men may be of their abilities, they aregreatly inferior to their animal neighbours. 

With what envy must a swine, or a much less voracious animal, besurveyed by a glutton; and how contemptible must the talents of othersensualists appear, when opposed, perhaps, to some of the lowest andmeanest of brutes! but in conversation man stands alone, at least inthis part of the creation; he leaves all others behind him at hisfirst start, and the greater progress he makes the greater distance isbetween them. 

Conversation is of three sorts. Men are said to converse with God, with themselves, and with one another. The two first of these havebeen so liberally and excellently spoken to by others, that I shall atpresent pass them by and confine myself in this essay to the thirdonly; since it seems to me amazing that this grand business of ourlives, the foundation of everything either useful or pleasant, shouldhave been so slightly treated of, that, while there is scarce aprofession or handicraft in life, however mean and contemptible, whichis not abundantly furnished with proper rules to the attaining itsperfection, men should be left almost totally in the dark, and withoutthe least light to direct, or any guide to conduct them, in the properexerting of those talents which are the noblest privilege of humannature and productive of all rational happiness; and the rather asthis power is by no means self-instructed, and in the possession ofthe artless and ignorant is of so mean use that it raises them verylittle above those animals who are void of it. 

As conversation is a branch of society, it follows that it can beproper to none who is not in his nature social. Now, society isagreeable to no creatures who are not inoffensive to each other; andwe therefore observe in animals who are entirely guided by nature thatit is cultivated by such only, while those of more noxious dispositionaddict themselves to solitude, and, unless when prompted by lust, orthat necessary instinct implanted in them by nature for the nurture oftheir young, shun as much as possible the society of their ownspecies. If therefore there should be found some human individuals ofso savage a habit, it would seem they were not adapted to society, and, consequently, not to conversation; nor would any inconvenienceensue the admittance of such exceptions, since it would by no meansimpeach the general rule of man's being a social animal; especiallywhen it appears (as is sufficiently and admirably proved by my friendthe author of An Enquiry into Happiness) that these men live in aconstant opposition to their own nature, and are no less monsters thanthe most wanton abortions or extravagant births. 

Again; if society requires that its members should be inoffensive, sothe more useful and beneficial they are to each other the moresuitable are they to the social nature, and more perfectly adapted toits institution; for all creatures seek their own happiness, andsociety is therefore natural to any, because it is naturallyproductive of this happiness. To render therefore any animal social isto render it inoffensive; an instance of which is to be seen in thosethe ferocity of whose nature can be tamed by man. And here the readermay observe a double distinction of man from the more savage animalsby society, and from the social by conversation. 

But if men were merely inoffensive to each other, it seems as ifsociety and conversation would be merely indifferent; and that, inorder to make it desirable by a sensible being, it is necessary weshould go farther and propose some positive good to ourselves from it;and this presupposes, not only negatively, our not receiving any hurt, but positively, our receiving some good, some pleasure or advantage, from each other in it, something which we could not find in anunsocial and solitary state; otherwise we might cry out with the righthonourable poet--[Footnote: The Duke of Buckingham. ]

 Give us our wildness and our woods, Our huts and caves again. 

The art of pleasing or doing good to one another is therefore the artof conversation. It is this habit which gives it all its value. And asman's being a social animal (the truth of which is incontestablyproved by that excellent author of An Enquiry, &c. , I have abovecited) presupposes a natural desire or tendency this way, it willfollow that we can fail in attaining this truly desirable end fromignorance only in the means; and how general this ignorance is may be, with some probability, inferred from our want of even a word toexpress this art by; that which comes the nearest to it, and by which, perhaps, we would sometimes intend it, being so horribly andbarbarously corrupted, that it contains at present scarce a simpleingredient of what it seems originally to have been designed toexpress. 

The word I mean is good breeding; a word, I apprehend, not at firstconfined to externals, much less to any particular dress or attitudeof the body; nor were the qualifications expressed by it to befurnished by a milliner, a taylor, or a perriwig-maker; no, nor evenby a dancing-master himself. According to the idea I myself conceivefrom this word, I should not have scrupled to call Socrates awell-bred man, though, I believe, he was very little instructed by anyof the persons I have above enumerated. In short, by good-breeding(notwithstanding the corrupt use of the word in a very differentsense) I mean the art of pleasing, or contributing as much as possibleto the ease and happiness of those with whom you converse. I shallcontend therefore no longer on this head; for, whilst my readerclearly conceives the sense in which I use this word, it will not bevery material whether I am right or wrong in its original application. 

Good-breeding then, or the art of pleasing in conversation, isexpressed two different ways, viz. , in our actions and our words, andour conduct in both may be reduced to that concise, comprehensive rulein scripture--Do unto all men as you would they should do untoyou. Indeed, concise as this rule is, and plain as it appears, whatare all treatises on ethics but comments upon it? and whoever is wellread in the book of nature, and hath made much observation on theactions of men, will perceive so few capable of judging or rightlypursuing their own happiness, that he will be apt to conclude thatsome attention is necessary (and more than is commonly used) to enablemen to know truly what they would have done unto them, or, at least, what it would be their interest to have done. 

If therefore men, through weakness or inattention, often err in theirconceptions of what would produce their own happiness, no wonder theyshould miss in the application of what will contribute to that ofothers; and thus we may, without too severe a censure on theirinclinations, account for that frequent failure in true good-breedingwhich daily experience gives us instances of. 

Besides, the commentators have well paraphrased on the above-mentioneddivine rule, that it is, to do unto men what you would they (if theywere in your situation and circumstances, and you in theirs) should dounto you; and, as this comment is necessary to be observed in ethics, so it is particularly useful in this our art, where the degree of theperson is always to be considered, as we shall explain more at largehereafter. 

We see then a possibility for a man well disposed to this golden rule, without some precautions, to err in the practice; nay, evengood-nature itself, the very habit of mind most essential to furnishus with true good-breeding, the latter so nearly resembling theformer, that it hath been called, and with the appearance at least ofpropriety, artificial good-nature. This excellent quality itselfsometimes shoots us beyond the mark, and shews the truth of thoselines in Horace:

 Insani sapiens nomen ferat, sequus iniqui, Ultra quam satis est, Virtutem si petal ipsam. 

Instances of this will be naturally produced where we shew thedeviations from those rules which we shall now attempt to lay down. 

As this good-breeding is the art of pleasing, it will be firstnecessary with the utmost caution to avoid hurting or giving anyoffence to those with whom we converse. And here we are surely to shunany kind of actual disrespect, or affront to their persons, byinsolence, which is the severest attack that can be made on the prideof man, and of which Florus seems to have no inadequate opinion when, speaking of the second Tarquin, he says; _in omnes superbid (quacrudelitate gravior est BONIS) grassatus_; "He trod on all withinsolence, which sits heavier on men of great minds than crueltyitself. " If there is any temper in man which more than all othersdisqualifies him for society, it is this insolence or haughtiness, which, blinding a man to his own imperfections, and giving him ahawk's quicksightedness to those of others, raises in him thatcontempt for his species which inflates the cheeks, erects the head, and stiffens the gaite of those strutting animals who sometimes stalkin assemblies, for no other reason but to shew in their gesture andbehaviour the disregard they have for the company. Though to a trulygreat and philosophical mind it is not easy to conceive a moreridiculous exhibition than this puppet, yet to others he is littleless than a nuisance; for contempt is a murtherous weapon, and thereis this difference only between the greatest and weakest man whenattacked by it, that, in order to wound the former, it must be just;whereas, without the shields of wisdom and philosophy, which God knowsare in the possession of very few, it wants no justice to point it, but is certain to penetrate, from whatever corner it comes. It is thisdisposition which inspires the empty Cacus to deny his acquaintance, and overlook men of merit in distress; and the little silly, prettyPhillida, or Foolida, to stare at the strange creatures round her. Itis this temper which constitutes the supercilious eye, the reservedlook, the distant bowe, the scornful leer, the affected astonishment, the loud whisper, ending in a laugh directed full in the teeth ofanother. Hence spring, in short, those numberless offences given toofrequently, in public and private assemblies, by persons of weakunderstandings, indelicate habits, and so hungry and foul-feeding avanity that it wants to devour whatever comes in its way. Now, ifgood-breeding be what we have endeavoured to prove it, how foreign, and indeed how opposite to it, must such a behaviour be! and can anyman call a duke or a dutchess who wears it well-bred? or are they notmore justly entitled to those inhuman names which they themselvesallot to the lowest vulgar? But behold a more pleasing picture on thereverse. See the earl of C----, noble in his birth, splendid in hisfortune, and embellished with every endowment of mind; how affable!how condescending! himself the only one who seems ignorant that he isevery way the greatest person in the room. 

But it is not sufficient to be inoffensive--we must be profitableservants to each other: we are, in the second place, to proceed to theutmost verge in paying the respect due to others. We had better go alittle too far than stop short in this particular. My lord Shaftesburyhath a pretty observation, that the beggar, in addressing to a coachwith, My lord, is sure not to offend, even though there be no lordthere; but, on the contrary, should plain sir fly in the face of anobleman, what must be the consequence? And, indeed, whoever considersthe bustle and contention about precedence, the pains and laboursundertaken, and sometimes the prices given, for the smallest title ormark of pre-eminence, and the visible satisfaction betrayed in itsenjoyment, may reasonably conclude this is a matter of no smallconsequence. The truth is, we live in a world of common men, and notof philosophers; for one of these, when he appears (which is veryseldom) among us, is distinguished, and very properly too, by the nameof an odd fellow; for what is it less than extreme oddity to despisewhat the generality of the world think the labour of their whole liveswell employed in procuring? we are therefore to adapt our behaviour tothe opinion of the generality of mankind, and not to that of a few oddfellows. 

It would be tedious, and perhaps impossible, to specify everyinstance, or to lay down exact rules for our conduct in every minuteparticular. However, I shall mention some of the chief which mostordinarily occur, after premising that the business of the whole is nomore than to convey to others an idea of your esteem of them, which isindeed the substance of all the compliments, ceremonies, presents, andwhatever passes between well-bred people. And here I shall lay downthese positions:--

First, that all meer ceremonies exist in form only, and have in themno substance at all; but, being imposed by the laws of custom, becomeessential to good-breeding, from those high-flown compliments paid tothe Eastern monarchs, and which pass between Chinese mandarines, tothose coarser ceremonials in use between English farmers and Dutchboors. 

Secondly, that these ceremonies, poor as they are, are of moreconsequence than they at first appear, and, in reality, constitute theonly external difference between man and man. Thus, His grace, Righthonourable, My lord, Right reverend, Reverend, Honourable, Sir, Esquire, Mr, &c. , have in a philosophical sense no meaning, yet areperhaps politically essential, and must be preserved by good-breeding;because, Thirdly, they raise an expectation in the person by law and customentitled to them, and who will consequently be displeased with thedisappointment. 

Now, in order to descend minutely into any rules for good-breeding, itwill be necessary to lay some scene, or to throw our disciple intosome particular circumstance. We will begin them with a visit in thecountry; and as the principal actor on this occasion is the person whoreceives it, we will, as briefly as possible, lay down some generalrules for his conduct; marking, at the same time, the principaldeviations we have observed on these occasions. 

When an expected guest arrives to dinner at your house, if your equal, or indeed not greatly your inferior, he should be sure to find yourfamily in some order, and yourself dressed and ready to receive him atyour gate with a smiling countenance. This infuses an immediatechearfulness into your guest, and persuades him of your esteem anddesire of his company. Not so is the behaviour of Polysperchon, atwhose gate you are obliged to knock a considerable time before yougain admittance. At length, the door being opened to you by a maid orsome improper servant, who wonders where the devil all the men are, and, being asked if the gentleman is at home, answers she believes so, you are conducted into a hall, or back-parlour, where you stay sometime before the gentleman, in a dishabille from his study or hisgarden, waits upon you, asks pardon, and assures you he did not expectyou so soon. 

Your guest, being introduced into a drawing-room, is, after the firstceremonies, to be asked whether he will refresh himself after hisjourney, before dinner (for which he is never to stay longer than theusual or fixed hour). But this request is never to be repeated oftenerthan twice, not in imitation of Calepus, who, as if hired by aphysician, crams wine in a morning down the throats of his mosttemperate friends, their constitutions being not so dear to them astheir present quiet. 

When dinner is on the table, and the ladies have taken their places, the gentlemen are to be introduced into the eating-room, where theyare to be seated with as much seeming indifference as possible, unlessthere be any present whose degrees claim an undoubted precedence. Asto the rest, the general rules of precedence are by marriage, age, andprofession. Lastly, in placing your guests, regard is rather to be hadto birth than fortune; for, though purse-pride is forward enough toexalt itself, it bears a degradation with more secret comfort and easethan the former, as being more inwardly satisfied with itself, andless apprehensive of neglect or contempt. 

The order in helping your guests is to be regulated by that of placingthem; but here I must, with great submission, recommend to the lady atthe upper end of the table to distribute her favours as equally and asimpartially as she can. I have sometimes seen a large dish of fishextend no farther than to the fifth person, and a haunch of venisonlose all its fat before half the table had tasted it. 

A single request to eat of any particular dish, how elegant soever, isthe utmost I allow. I strictly prohibit all earnest solicitations, allcomplaints that you have no appetite, which are sometimes little lessthan burlesque, and always impertinent and troublesome. 

And here, however low it may appear to some readers, as I have knownomissions of this kind give offence, and sometimes make the offenders, who have been very well-meaning persons, ridiculous, I cannot helpmentioning the ceremonial of drinking healths at table, which isalways to begin with the lady's and next the master's of the house. 

When dinner is ended, and the ladies retired, though I do not hold themaster of the feast obliged to fuddle himself through complacence(and, indeed, it is his own fault generally if his company be such aswould desire it), yet he is to see that the bottle circulatesufficient to afford every person present a moderate quantity of wineif he chuses it; at the same time permitting those who desire iteither to pass the bottle or to fill their glass as theyplease. Indeed, the beastly custom of besotting, and ostentatiouscontention for pre-eminence in their cups, seems at present prettywell abolished among the better sort of people. Yet Methus stillremains, who measures the honesty and understanding of mankind by acapaciousness of their swallow; who sings forth the praises of abumper, and complains of the light in your glass; and at whose tableit is as difficult to preserve your senses as to preserve your purseat a gaming-table or your health at a b--y-house. On the other side, Sophronus eyes you carefully whilst you are filling out hisliquor. The bottle as surely stops when it comes to him as yourchariot at Temple-bar; and it is almost as impossible to carry a pintof wine from his house as to gain the love of a reigning beauty, orborrow a shilling of P---- W----. 

But to proceed. After a reasonable time, if your guest intends stayingwith you the whole evening, and declines the bottle, you may proposeplay, walking, or any other amusement; but these are to be but barelymentioned, and offered to his choice with all indifference on yourpart. What person can be so dull as not to perceive in Agyrtes alonging to pick your pockets, or in Alazon a desire to satisfy his ownvanity in shewing you the rarities of his house and gardens? When yourguest offers to go, there should be no solicitations to stay, unlessfor the whole night, and that no farther than to give him a moralassurance of his being welcome so to do; no assertions that he shan'tgo yet; no laying on violent hands; no private orders to servants todelay providing the horses or vehicles--like Desmophylax, who neversuffers any one to depart from his house without entitling him to anaction of false imprisonment. 

Let us now consider a little the part which the visitor himself is toact. And first, he is to avoid the two extremes of being too early ortoo late, so as neither to surprise his friend unawares or unprovided, nor detain him too long in expectation. Orthrius, who hath nothing todo, disturbs your rest in a morning; and the frugal Chronophidus, lesthe should waste some minutes of his precious time, is sure to spoilyour dinner. 

The address at your arrival should be as short as possible, especiallywhen you visit a superior; not imitating Phlenaphius, who would stophis friend in the rain rather than omit a single bowe. 

Be not too observant of trifling ceremonies, such as rising, sitting, walking first in or out of the room, except with one greatly yoursuperior; but when such a one offers you precedence it is uncivil torefuse it; of which I will give you the following instance: An Englishnobleman, being in France, was bid by Louis XIV. To enter the coachbefore him, which he excused himself from. The king then immediatelymounted, and, ordering the door to be shut, drove on, leaving thenobleman behind him. 

Never refuse anything offered you out of civility, unless inpreference of a lady, and that no oftener than once; for nothing ismore truly good breeding than to avoid being troublesome. Though thetaste and humour of the visitor is to be chiefly considered, yet issome regard likewise to be had to that of the master of the house; forotherwise your company will be rather a penance than apleasure. Methusus plainly discovers his visit to be paid to his soberfriend's bottle; nor will Philopasus abstain from cards, though he iscertain they are agreeable only to himself; whilst the slenderLeptines gives his fat entertainer a sweat, and makes him run thehazard of breaking his wind up his own mounts. 

If conveniency allows your staying longer than the time proposed, itmay be civil to offer to depart, lest your stay may be incommodious toyour friend; but if you perceive the contrary, by his solicitations, they should be readily accepted, without tempting him to break theserules we have above laid down for him--causing a confusion in hisfamily and among his servants, by preparations for yourdeparture. Lastly, when you are resolved to go, the same method is tobe observed which I have prescribed at your arrival. No tediousceremonies of taking leave--not like Hyperphylus, who bows and kissesand squeezes by the hand as heartily, and wishes you as much healthand happiness, when he is going a journey home of ten miles, from acommon acquaintance, as if he was leaving his nearest friend orrelation on a voyage to the East Indies. 

Having thus briefly considered our reader in the circumstance of aprivate visit, let us now take him into a public assembly, where, asmore eyes will be on his behaviour, it cannot be less his interest tobe instructed. We have, indeed, already formed a general picture ofthe chief enormities committed on these occasions: we shall hereendeavour to explain more particularly the rules of an oppositedemeanour, which we may divide into three sorts, viz. , our behaviourto our superiors, to our equals, and to our inferiors. 

In our behaviour to our superiors two extremes are to be avoided;namely, an abject and base servility, and an impudent and encroachingfreedom. When the well-bred Hyperdulus approaches a nobleman in anypublic place, you would be persuaded he was one of the meanest of hisdomestics; his cringes fall little short of prostration; and his wholebehaviour is so mean and servile that an Eastern monarch would notrequire more humiliation from his vassals. On the other side, Anaischyntus, whom fortunate accidents, without any pretensions fromhis birth, have raised to associate with his betters, shakes my lordduke by the hand with a familiarity savouring not only of the mostperfect intimacy but the closest alliance. The former behaviourproperly raises our contempt, the latter our disgust. Hyperdulus seemsworthy of wearing his lordship's livery; Anaischyntus deserves to beturned out of his service for his impudence. Between these two is thatgolden mean which declares a man ready to acquiesce in allowing therespect due to a title by the laws and customs of his country, butimpatient of any insult, and disdaining to purchase the intimacy withand favour of a superior at the expence of conscience or honour. As tothe question, who are our superiors? I shall endeavour to ascertainthem when I come, in the second place, to mention our behaviour to ourequals: the first instruction on this head being carefully to considerwho are such; every little superiority of fortune or profession beingtoo apt to intoxicate men's minds, and elevate them in their ownopinion beyond their merit or pretensions. Men are superior to eachother in this our country by title, by birth, by rank in profession, and by age; very little, if any, being to be allowed to fortune, though so much is generally exacted by it and commonly paid toit. Mankind never appear to me in a more despicable light than when Isee them, by a simple as well as mean servility, voluntarilyconcurring in the adoration of riches, without the least benefit orprospect from them. Respect and deference are perhaps justlydemandable of the obliged, and may be, with some reason at least, fromexpectation, paid to the rich and liberal from the necessitous; butthat men should be allured by the glittering of wealth only to feedthe insolent pride of those who will not in return feed theirhunger--that the sordid niggard should find any sacrifices on thealtar of his vanity--seems to arise from a blinder idolatry, and amore bigoted and senseless superstition, than any which the sharp eyesof priests have discovered in the human mind. 

All gentlemen, therefore, who are not raised above each other bytitle, birth, rank in profession, age, or actual obligation, being tobe considered as equals, let us take some lessons for their behaviourto each other in public from the following examples; in which we shalldiscern as well what we are to elect as what we are to avoid. Authadesis so absolutely abandoned to his own humour that he never gives it upon any occasion. If Seraphina herself, whose charms one would imagineshould infuse alacrity into the limbs of a cripple sooner than theBath waters, was to offer herself for his partner, he would answer henever danced, even though the ladies lost their ball by it. Nor doththis denial arise from incapacity, for he was in his youth anexcellent dancer, and still retains sufficient knowledge of the art, and sufficient abilities in his limbs to practise it, but from anaffectation of gravity which he will not sacrifice to the eagerestdesire of others. Dyskolus hath the same aversion to cards; and thoughcompetently skilled in all games, is by no importunities to beprevailed on to make a third at ombre, or a fourth at whisk andquadrille. He will suffer any company to be disappointed of theiramusement rather than submit to pass an hour or two a littledisagreeably to himself. The refusal of Philautus is not so general;he is very ready to engage, provided you will indulge him in hisfavourite game, but it is impossible to persuade him to any other. Ishould add both these are men of fortune, and the consequences of lossor gain, at the rate they are desired to engage, very trifling andinconsiderable to them. 

The rebukes these people sometimes meet with are no more equal totheir deserts than the honour paid to Charistus, the benevolence ofwhose mind scarce permits him to indulge his own will, unless byaccident. Though neither his age nor understanding incline him todance, nor will admit his receiving any pleasure from it, yet would hecaper a whole evening, rather than a fine young lady should lose anopportunity of displaying her charms by the several genteel andamiable attitudes which this exercise affords the skilful of thatsex. And though cards are not adapted to his temper, he never oncebaulked the inclinations of others on that account. 

But, as there are many who will not in the least instance mortifytheir own humour to purchase the satisfaction of all mankind, so thereare some who make no scruple of satisfying their own pride and vanityat the expence of the most cruel mortification of others. Of this kindis Agroicus, who seldom goes to an assembly but he affronts half hisacquaintance by overlooking or disregarding them. 

As this is a very common offence, and indeed much more criminal, bothin its cause and effect, than is generally imagined, I shall examineit very minutely, and I doubt not but to make it appear that there isno behaviour (to speak like a philosopher) more contemptible, nor, ina civil sense, more detestable, than this. 

The first ingredient in this composition is pride, which, according tothe doctrine of some, is the universal passion. There are others whoconsider it as the foible of great minds; and others again who willhave it to be the very foundation of greatness; and perhaps it may ofthat greatness which we have endeavoured to expose in many parts ofthese works; but to real greatness, which is the union of a good heartwith a good head, it is almost diametrically opposite, as it generallyproceeds from the depravity of both, and almost certainly from thebadness of the latter. Indeed, a little observation will shew us thatfools are the most addicted to this vice; and a little reflexion willteach us that it is incompatible with true understanding. Accordinglywe see that, while the wisest of men have constantly lamented theimbecility and imperfection of their own nature, the meanest andweakest have been trumpeting forth their own excellencies andtriumphing in their own sufficiency. 

Pride may, I think, be properly defined, the pleasure we feel incontemplating our own superior merit, on comparing it with that ofothers. That it arises from this supposed superiority is evident; for, however great you admit a man's merit to be, if all men were equal tohim, there would be no room for pride. Now if it stop here, perhapsthere is no enormous harm in it, or at least no more than is common toall other folly; every species of which is always liable to produceevery species of mischief: folly I fear it is; for, should the manestimate rightly on this occasion, and the ballance should fairly turnon his side in this particular instance; should he be indeed a greaterorator, poet, general; should he be more wise, witty, learned, young, rich, healthy, or in whatever instance he may excel one, or many, orall; yet, if he examine himself thoroughly, will he find no reason toabate his pride? is the quality in which he is so eminent, sogenerally or justly esteemed? is it so entirely his own? doth he notrather owe his superiority to the defects of others than to his ownperfection? or, lastly, can he find in no part of his character aweakness which may counterpoise this merit, and which as justly atleast, threatens him with shame as this entices him to pride? I fancy, if such a scrutiny was made (and nothing so ready as good sense tomake it), a proud man would be as rare as in reality he is aridiculous monster. But suppose a man, on this comparison, is, as maysometimes happen, a little partial to himself, the harm is to himself, and he becomes only ridiculous from it. If I prefer my excellence inpoetry to Pope or Young; if an inferior actor should, in his opinion, exceed Quin or Garrick; or a sign-post painter set himself above theinimitable Hogarth, we become only ridiculous by our vanity: and thepersons themselves who are thus humbled in the comparison, would laughwith more reason than any other. Pride, therefore, hitherto seems aninoffensive weakness only, and entitles a man to no worse anappellation than that of a fool; but it will not stop here: thoughfool be perhaps no desirable term, the proud man will deserve worse;he is not contented with the admiration he pays himself, he nowbecomes arrogant, and requires the same respect and preference fromthe world; for pride, though the greatest of flatterers, is by nomeans a profitable servant to itself; it resembles the parson of theparish more than the squire, and lives rather on the tithes, oblations, and contributions it collects from others than on its owndemesne. As pride therefore is seldom without arrogance, so is thisnever to be found without insolence. The arrogant man must be insolentin order to attain his own ends; and, to convince and remind men ofthe superiority he affects, will naturally, by ill-words, actions, andgestures, endeavour to throw the despised person at as much distanceas possible from him. 

Hence proceeds that supercilious look and all those visibleindignities with which men behave in public to those whom they fancytheir inferiors. Hence the very notable custom of deriding and oftendenying the nearest relations, friends, and acquaintance, in povertyand distress, lest we should anywise be levelled with the wretches wedespise, either in their own imagination or in the conceit of any whoshould behold familiarities pass between us. 

But besides pride, folly, arrogance, and insolence, there is anothersimple, which vice never willingly leaves out of any composition--andthis is ill-nature. A good-natured man may indeed (provided he is afool) be proud, but arrogant and insolent he cannot be, unless we willallow to such a still greater degree of folly and ignorance of humannature; which may indeed entitle them to forgiveness in the benignlanguage of scripture, because they know not what they do. 

For, when we come to consider the effect of this behaviour on theperson who suffers it, we may perhaps have reason to conclude thatmurder is not a much more cruel injury. What is the consequence ofthis contempt? or, indeed, what is the design of it but to expose theobject of it to shame? a sensation as uneasy and almost intolerable asthose which arise from the severest pains inflicted on the body; aconvulsion of the mind (if I may so call it) which immediatelyproduces symptoms of universal disorder in the whole man; which hathsometimes been attended with death itself, and to which death hath, bygreat multitudes, been with much alacrity preferred. Now, what lessthan the highest degree of ill-nature can permit a man to pamper hisown vanity at the price of another's shame? Is the glutton, who, toraise the flavour of his dish, puts some birds or beasts to exquisitetorment, more cruel to the animal than this our proud man to his ownspecies?

This character then is a composition made up of those odious, contemptible qualities, pride, folly, arrogance, insolence, andill-nature. I shall dismiss it with some general observations, whichwill place it in so ridiculous a light, that a man must hereafter bepossessed of a very considerable portion either of folly or impudenceto assume it. 

First, it proceeds on one grand fallacy; for, whereas this wretch isendeavouring by a supercilious conduct to lead the beholder into anopinion of his superiority to the despised person, he inwardlyflatters his own vanity with a deceitful presumption that this hisconduct is founded on a general preconceived opinion of thissuperiority. 

Secondly, this caution to preserve it plainly indicates a doubt thatthe superiority of our own character is very slightly established; forwhich reason we see it chiefly practised by men who have the weakestpretensions to the reputation they aim at; and, indeed, none was everfreer from it than that noble person whom we have already mentioned inthis essay, and who can never be mentioned but with honour by thosewho know him. 

Thirdly, this opinion of our superiority is commonly veryerroneous. Who hath not seen a general behave in this superciliousmanner to an officer of lower rank, who hath been greatly his superiorin that very art to his excellence in which the general ascribes allhis merit? Parallel instances occur in every other art, science, orprofession. 

Fourthly, men who excel others in trifling instances frequently cast asupercilious eye on their superiors in the highest. Thus the leastpretensions to preeminence in title, birth, riches, equipages, dress, &c. , constantly overlook the most noble endowments of virtue, honour, wisdom, sense, wit, and every other quality which can truly dignifyand adorn a man. 

Lastly, the lowest and meanest of our species are the most stronglyaddicted to this vice--men who are a scandal to their sex, and womenwho disgrace human nature; for the basest mechanic is so far frombeing exempt that he is generally the most guilty of it. It visitsale-houses and gin-shops, and whistles in the empty heads of fidlers, mountebanks, and dancing-masters. 

To conclude a character on which we have already dwelt longer than isconsistent with the intended measure of this essay, this contempt ofothers is the truest symptom of a base and a bad heart. While itsuggests itself to the mean and the vile, and tickles their littlefancy on every occasion, it never enters the great and good mind buton the strongest motives; nor is it then a welcome guest, affordingonly an uneasy sensation, and brings always with it a mixture ofconcern and compassion. 

We will now proceed to inferior criminals in society. Theoretus, conceiving that the assembly is only met to see and admire him, isuneasy unless he engrosses the eyes of the whole company. The giantdoth not take more pains to be viewed; and, as he is unfortunately notso tall, he carefully deposits himself in the most conspicuous place;nor will that suffice--he must walk about the room, though to thegreat disturbance of the company; and, if he can purchase generalobservation at no less rate, will condescend to be ridiculous; for heprefers being laughed at to being taken little notice of. 

On the other side, Dusopius is so bashful that he hides himself in acorner; he hardly bears being looked at, and never quits the firstchair he lights upon, lest he should expose himself to public view. Hetrembles when you bowe to him at a distance, is shocked at hearing hisown voice, and would almost swoon at the repetition of his name. 

The audacious Anedes, who is extremely amorous in his inclinations, never likes a woman but his eyes ask her the question, withoutconsidering the confusion he often occasions to the object; he oglesand languishes at every pretty woman in the room. As there is no lawof morality which he would not break to satisfy his desires, so isthere no form of civility which he doth not violate to communicatethem. When he gets possession of a woman's hand, which those ofstricter decency never give him but with reluctance, he considershimself as its master. Indeed, there is scarce a familiarity which hewill abstain from on the slightest acquaintance, and in the mostpublic place. Seraphina herself can make no impression on the roughtemper of Agroicus; neither her quality nor her beauty can exact theleast complacence from him; and he would let her lovely limbs achrather than offer her his chair: while the gentle Lyperus tumbles overbenches and overthrows tea-tables to take up a fan or a glove; heforces you, as a good parent doth his child, for your own good; he isabsolute master of a lady's will, nor will allow her the election ofstanding or sitting in his company. In short, the impertinent civilityof Lyperus is as troublesome, though perhaps not so offensive, as thebrutish rudeness of Agroicus. 

Thus we have hinted at most of the common enormities committed inpublic assemblies to our equals; for it would be tedious and difficultto enumerate all: nor is it needful; since from this sketch we maytrace all others, most of which, I believe, will be found to branchout from some of the particulars here specified. 

I am now, in the last place, to consider our behaviour to ourinferiors, in which condescension can never be too stronglyrecommended; for, as a deviation on this side is much more innocentthan on the other, so the pride of man renders us much less liable toit. For, besides that we are apt to overrate our own perfections, andundervalue the qualifications of our neighbours, we likewise set toohigh an esteem on the things themselves, and consider them asconstituting a more essential difference between us than they reallydo. The qualities of the mind do, in reality, establish the truestsuperiority over one another: yet should not these so far elevate ourpride as to inflate us with contempt, and make us look down on ourfellow-creatures as on animals of an inferior order; but that thefortuitous accident of birth, the acquisition of wealth, with someoutward ornaments of dress, should inspire men with an insolencecapable of treating the rest of mankind with disdain, is sopreposterous that nothing less than daily experience could give itcredit. If men were to be rightly estimated, and divided intosubordinate classes according to the superior excellence of theirseveral natures, perhaps the lowest class of either sex would beproperly assigned to those two disgraces of the human species, commonly called a beau and a fine lady; for, if we rate men by thefaculties of the mind, in what degree must these stand? nay, admittingthe qualities of the body were to give the pre-eminence, how many ofthose whom fortune hath placed in the lowest station must be rankedabove them? If dress is their only title, sure even the monkey, if aswell dressed, is on as high a footing as the beau. But perhaps I shallbe told they challenge their dignity from birth; that is a poor andmean pretence to honour when supported with no other. Persons who haveno better claim to superiority should be ashamed of this; they arereally a disgrace to those very ancestors from whom they would derivetheir pride, and are chiefly happy in this, that they want the verymoderate portion of understanding which would enable them to despisethemselves. 

And yet who so prone to a contemptuous carriage as these? I havemyself seen a little female thing which they have called "my lady, " ofno greater dignity in the order of beings than a cat, and of no moreuse in society than a butterfly; whose mien would not give even theidea of a gentlewoman, and whose face would cool the loosestlibertine; with a mind as empty of ideas as an opera, and a bodyfuller of diseases than an hospital--I have seen this thing expresscontempt to a woman who was an honour to her sex and an ornament tothe creation. 

To confess the truth, there is little danger of the possessor's everundervaluing this titular excellence. Not that I would withdraw fromit that deference which the policy of government hath assigned it. Onthe contrary, I have laid down the most exact compliance with thisrespect, as a fundamental in good-breeding; nay, I insist only that wemay be admitted to pay it, and not treated with a disdain even beyondwhat the eastern monarchs shew to their slaves. Surely it is too highan elevation when, instead of treating the lowest human creature, in aChristian sense, as our brethren, we look down on such as are but onerank in the civil order removed from us as unworthy to breathe eventhe same air, and regard the most distant communication with them asan indignity and disgrace offered to ourselves. This is consideringthe difference not in the individual, but in the very species; aheight of insolence impious in a Christian society, and most absurdand ridiculous in a trading nation. 

I have now done with my first head, in which I have treated ofgood-breeding, as it regards our actions. I shall, in the next place, consider it with respect to our words, and shall endeavour to lay downsome rules, by observing which our well-bred man may, in his discourseas well as actions, contribute to the happiness and well-being ofsociety. 

Certain it is, that the highest pleasure which we are capable ofenjoying in conversation is to be met with only in the society ofpersons whose understanding is pretty near on an equality with ourown; nor is this equality only necessary to enable men of exaltedgenius and extensive knowledge to taste the sublimer pleasures ofcommunicating their refined ideas to each other; but it is likewisenecessary to the inferior happiness of every subordinate degree ofsociety, down to the very lowest. For instance; we will suppose aconversation between Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, and threedancing-masters. It will be acknowledged, I believe, that the heelsophists would be as little pleased with the company of thephilosophers as the philosophers with theirs. 

It would be greatly, therefore, for the improvement and happiness ofconversation, if society could be formed on this equality; but, as menare not ranked in this world by the different degrees of theirunderstanding, but by other methods, and consequently all degrees ofunderstanding often meet in the same class, and must _exnecessitate_ frequently converse together, the impossibility ofaccomplishing any such Utopian scheme very plainly appears. Heretherefore is a visible but unavoidable imperfection in society itself. 

But, as we have laid it down as a fundamental that the essence ofgood-breeding is to contribute as much as possible to the ease andhappiness of mankind, so will it be the business of our well-bred manto endeavour to lessen this imperfection to his utmost, and to bringsociety as near to a level at least as he is able. 

Now there are but two ways to compass this, viz. , by raising thelower, and by lowering what is higher. 

Let us suppose, then, that very unequal company I have beforementioned met; the former of these is apparently impracticable. LetSocrates, for instance, institute a discourse on the nature of thesoul, or Plato reason on the native beauty of virtue, and Aristotle onhis occult qualities--What must become of our dancing-masters? Wouldthey not stare at one another with surprise, and, most probably, atour philosophers with contempt? Would they have any pleasure in suchsociety? or would they not rather wish themselves in a dancing-school, or a green-room at the playhouse? What, therefore, have ourphilosophers to do but to lower themselves to those who cannot rise tothem?

And surely there are subjects on which both can converse. Hath notSocrates heard of harmony? Hath not Plato, who draws virtue in theperson of a fine woman, any idea of the gracefulness of attitude? andhath not Aristotle himself written a book on motion?

In short, to be a little serious, there are many topics on which theycan at least be intelligible to each other. 

How absurd, then, must appear the conduct of Cenodoxus, who, havinghad the advantage of a liberal education, and having made a prettygood progress in literature, is constantly advancing learned subjectsin common conversation? He talks of the classics before the ladies, and of Greek criticisms among fine gentlemen. What is this less thanan insult on the company over whom he thus affects a superiority, andwhose time he sacrifices to his vanity?

Wisely different is the amiable conduct of Sophronus; who, though heexceeds the former in knowledge, can submit to discourse on the mosttrivial matters, rather than introduce such as his company are utterstrangers to. He can talk of fashions and diversions among the ladies;nay, can even condescend to horses and dogs with countrygentlemen. This gentleman, who is equal to dispute on the highest andabstrusest points, can likewise talk on a fan or a horse-race; nor hadever any one who was not himself a man of learning, the least reasonto conceive the vast knowledge of Sophronus, unless from the report ofothers. 

Let us compare these together. Cenodoxus proposes the satisfaction ofhis own pride from the admiration of others; Sophronus thinks ofnothing but their amusement. In the company of Cenodoxus every one isrendered uneasy, laments his own want of knowledge, and longs for theend of the dull assembly; with Sophronus all are pleased, andcontented with themselves in their knowledge of matters which theyfind worthy the consideration of a man of sense. Admiration isinvoluntarily paid the former: to the latter it is given joyfully. Theformer receives it with envy and hatred; the latter enjoys it as thesweet fruit of goodwill. The former is shunned; the latter courted byall. 

This behaviour in Cenodoxus may, in some measure, account for anobservation we must have frequent occasion to make; that theconversation of men of very moderate capacities is often preferred tothat of men of superior talents; in which the world act more wiselythan at first they may seem; for, besides that backwardness in mankindto give their admiration, what can be duller or more void of pleasurethan discourses on subjects above our comprehension? It is likelistening to an unknown language; and, if such company is ever desiredby us, it is a sacrifice to our vanity, which imposes on us to believethat we may by these means raise the general opinion of our own partsand knowledge, and not from that cheerful delight which is the naturalresult of an agreeable conversation. 

There is another very common fault, equally destructive of thisdelight, by much the same means, though it is far from owing itsoriginal to any real superiority of parts and knowledge; this isdiscoursing on the mysteries of a particular profession, to which allthe rest of the company, except one or two, are utterstrangers. Lawyers are generally guilty of this fault, as they aremore confined to the conversation of one another; and I have known avery agreeable company spoilt, where there have been two of thesegentlemen present, who have seemed rather to think themselves in acourt of justice than in a mixed assembly of persons met only for theentertainment of each other. 

But it is not sufficient that the whole company understand the topicof their conversation; they should be likewise equally interested inevery subject not tending to their general information or amusement;for these are not to be postponed to the relation of private affairs, much less of the particular grievance or misfortune of a singleperson. To bear a share in the afflictions of another is a degree offriendship not to be expected in a common acquaintance; nor hath anyman a right to indulge the satisfaction of a weak and mean mind by thecomfort of pity at the expence of the whole company's diversion. Theinferior and unsuccessful members of the several professions aregenerally guilty of this fault; for, as they fail of the reward due totheir great merit, they can seldom refrain from reviling theirsuperiors, and complaining of their own hard and unjust fate. 

Farther, as a man is not to make himself the subject of theconversation, so neither is he to engross the whole to himself. Asevery man had rather please others by what he says than be himselfpleased by what they say; or, in other words, as every man is bestpleased with the consciousness of pleasing, so should all have anequal opportunity of aiming at it. This is a right which we are sooffended at being deprived of, that, though I remember to have known aman reputed a good companion, who seldom opened his mouth in company, unless to swallow his liquor, yet I have scarce ever heard thatappellation given to a very talkative person, even when he hath beencapable of entertaining, unless he hath done this with buffoonery, andmade the rest amends by partaking of their scorn together with theiradmiration and applause. 

A well-bred man, therefore, will not take more of the discourse thanfalls to his share; nor in this will he shew any violent impetuosityof temper, or exert any loudness of voice, even in arguing; for theinformation of the company, and the conviction of his antagonist, areto be his apparent motives; not the indulgence of his own pride, or anambitious desire of victory; which latter, if a wise man shouldentertain, he will be sure to conceal with his utmost endeavour; sincehe must know that to lay open his vanity in public is no less absurdthan to lay open his bosom to an enemy whose drawn sword is pointedagainst it; for every man hath a dagger in his hand ready to stab thevanity of another wherever he perceives it. 

Having now shewn that the pleasure of conversation must arise from thediscourse being on subjects levelled to the capacity of the wholecompany; from being on such in which every person is equallyinterested; from every one's being admitted to his share in thediscourse; and, lastly, from carefully avoiding all noise, violence, and impetuosity; it might seem proper to lay down some particularrules for the choice of those subjects which are most likely toconduce to the cheerful delights proposed from this socialcommunication; but, as such an attempt might appear absurd, from theinfinite variety, and perhaps too dictatorial in its nature, I shallconfine myself to rejecting those topics only which seem most foreignto this delight, and which are most likely to be attended withconsequences rather tending to make society an evil than to procure usany good from it. 

And, first, I shall mention that which I have hitherto onlyendeavoured to restrain within certain bounds, namely, arguments; butwhich, if they were entirely banished out of company, especially frommixed assemblies, and where ladies make part of the society, it would, I believe, promote their happiness; they have been sometimes attendedwith bloodshed, generally with hatred from the conquered party towardshis victor; and scarce ever with conviction. Here I except jocosearguments, which often produce much mirth; and serious disputesbetween men of learning (when none but such are present), which tendto the propagation of knowledge and the edification of the company. 

Secondly, slander; which, however frequently used, or however savouryto the palate of ill-nature, is extremely pernicious, as it is oftenunjust and highly injurious to the person slandered, and alwaysdangerous, especially in large and mixed companies, where sometimes anundesigned offence is given to an innocent relation or friend of suchperson, who is thus exposed to shame and confusion, without having anyright to resent the affront. Of this there have been very tragicalinstances; and I have myself seen some very ridiculous ones, but whichhave given great pain, as well to the person offended, as to him whohath been the innocent occasion of giving the offence. 

Thirdly, all general reflections on countries, religions, andprofessions, which are always unjust. If these are ever tolerable, they are only from the persons who with some pleasantry ridicule theirown country. It is very common among us to cast sarcasms on aneighbouring nation, to which we have no other reason to bear anantipathy than what is more usual than justifiable, because we haveinjured it; but sure such general satire is not founded on truth; forI have known gentlemen of that nation possessed with every goodquality which is to be wished in a man or required in a friend. Iremember a repartee made by a gentleman of this country, which, thoughit was full of the severest wit, the person to whom it was directedcould not resent, as he so plainly deserved it. He had with greatbitterness inveighed against this whole people; upon which one of themwho was present very coolly answered, "I don't know, sir, whether Ihave not more reason to be pleased with the compliment you pay mycountry than to be angry with what you say against it; since, by yourabusing us all so heavily, you have plainly implied you are not ofit. " This exposed the other to so much laughter, especially as he wasnot unexceptionable in his character, that I believe he wassufficiently punished for his ill-mannered satire. 

Fourthly, blasphemy, and irreverent mention of religion. I will nothere debate what compliment a man pays to his own understanding by theprofession of infidelity; it is sufficient to my purpose that he runsthe risque of giving the cruelest offence to persons of a differenttemper; for, if a loyalist would be greatly affronted by hearing anyindecencies offered to the person of a temporal prince, how much morebitterly must a man who sincerely believes in such a being as theAlmighty, feel any irreverence or insult shewn to His name, Hishonour, or His institution? And, notwithstanding the impious characterof the present age, and especially of many among those whose moreimmediate business it is to lead men, as well by example as precept, into the ways of piety, there are still sufficient numbers left whopay so honest and sincere a reverence to religion, as may give us areasonable expectation of finding one at least of this stamp in everylarge company. 

A fifth particular to be avoided is indecency. We are not only toforbear the repeating of such words as would give an immediate affrontto a lady of reputation, but the raising of any loose ideas tending tothe offence of that modesty which, if a young woman hath not somethingmore than the affectation of, she is not worthy the regard even of aman of pleasure, provided he hath any delicacy in hisconstitution. How inconsistent with good-breeding it is to give painand confusion to such, is sufficiently apparent; all_double-entendres_ and obscene jests are therefore carefully tobe avoided before them. But suppose no ladies present, nothing can bemeaner, lower, and less productive of rational mirth, than this looseconversation. For my own part, I cannot conceive how the idea of jestor pleasantry came ever to be annexed to one of our highest and mostserious pleasures. Nor can I help observing, to the discredit of suchmerriment, that it is commonly the last resource of impotent wit, theweak strainings of the lowest, silliest, and dullest fellows in theworld. 

Sixthly, you are to avoid knowingly mentioning anything which mayrevive in any person the remembrance of some past accident, or raisean uneasy reflection on a present misfortune or corporal blemish. Tomaintain this rule nicely, perhaps, requires great delicacy; but it isabsolutely necessary to a well-bred man. I have observed numberlessbreaches of it; many, I believe, proceeding from negligence andinadvertency; yet I am afraid some may be too justly imputed to amalicious desire of triumphing in our own superior happiness andperfections; now, when it proceeds from this motive it is not easy toimagine anything more criminal. 

Under this head I shall caution my well-bred reader against a commonfault, much of the same nature; which is, mentioning any particularquality as absolutely essential to either man or woman, and explodingall those who want it. This renders every one uneasy who is in theleast self-conscious of the defect. I have heard a boor of fashiondeclare in the presence of women remarkably plain, that beauty was thechief perfection of that sex, and an essential without which no womanwas worth regarding; a certain method of putting all those in theroom, who are but suspicious of their defect that way, out ofcountenance. 

I shall mention one fault more, which is, not paying a proper regardto the present temper of the company, or the occasion of theirmeeting, in introducing a topic of conversation, by which as great anabsurdity is sometimes committed, as it would be to sing a dirge at awedding, or an epithalamium at a funeral. 

Thus I have, I think, enumerated most of the principal errors which weare apt to fall into in conversation; and though, perhaps, someparticulars worthy of remark may have escaped me, yet an attention towhat I have here said may enable the reader to discover them. At leastI am persuaded that, if the rules I have now laid down were strictlyobserved, our conversation would be more perfect, and the pleasureresulting from it purer and more unsullied, than at present it is. 

But I must not dismiss this subject without some animadversions on aparticular species of pleasantry, which, though I am far from beingdesirous of banishing from conversation, requires, most certainly, some reins to govern, and some rule to direct it. The reader mayperhaps guess I mean raillery; to which I may apply the fable of thelap-dog and the ass; for, while in some hands it diverts and delightsus with its dexterity and gentleness, in others, it paws, daubs, offends, and hurts. 

The end of conversation being the happiness of mankind, and the chiefmeans to procure their delight and pleasure, it follows, I think, thatnothing can conduce to this end which tends to make a man uneasy anddissatisfied with himself, or which exposes him to the scorn andcontempt of others. I here except that kind of raillery, therefore, which is concerned in tossing men out of their chairs, tumbling theminto water, or any of those handicraft jokes which are exercised onthose notable persons commonly known by the name of buffoons; who arecontented to feed their belly at the price of their br--ch, and tocarry off the wine and the p--ss of a great man together. This I passby, as well as all remarks on the genius of the great men themselves, who are (to fetch a phrase from school, a phrase not improperlymentioned on this occasion) great dabs at this kind of facetiousness. 

But, leaving all such persons to expose human nature among themselves, I shall recommend to my well-bred man, who aims at raillery, theexcellent character given of Horace by Persius:--

 Omne vafer vitium ridenti Flaccus amico Tangit, et admissus circum praecordia ludit, Callidus excusso populum suspendere naso. 

Thus excellently rendered by the late ingenious translator of thatobscure author:--

 Yet could shrewd Horace, with disportive wit, Rally his friend, and tickle while he bit; Winning access, he play'd around the heart, And, gently touching, prick'd the tainted part. The crowd he sneer'd; but sneer'd with such a grace, It pass'd for downright innocence of face. 

The raillery which is consistent with good-breeding is a gentleanimadversion on some foible; which, while it raises a laugh in therest of the company, doth not put the person rallied out ofcountenance, or expose him to shame and contempt. On the contrary, thejest should be so delicate that the object of it should be capable ofjoining in the mirth it occasions. 

All great vices therefore, misfortunes, and notorious blemishes ofmind or body, are improper subjects of raillery. Indeed, a hint atsuch is an abuse and an affront which is sure to give the person(unless he be one shameless and abandoned) pain and uneasiness, andshould be received with contempt, instead of applause, by all the restof the company. 

Again; the nature and quality of the person are to be considered. Asto the first, some men will not bear any raillery at all. I remember agentleman who declared he never made a jest, nor would ever takeone. I do not, indeed, greatly recommend such a person for acompanion; but at the same time, a well-bred man, who is to consultthe pleasure and happiness of the whole, is not at liberty to make anyone present uneasy. By the quality, I mean the sex, degree, profession, and circumstances; on which head I need not be veryparticular. With regard to the two former, all raillery on ladies andsuperiors should be extremely fine and gentle; and with respect to thelatter, any of the rules I have above laid down, most of which are tobe applied to it, will afford sufficient caution. 

Lastly, a consideration is to be had of the persons before whom werally. A man will be justly uneasy at being reminded of thoserailleries in one company which he would very patiently bear theimputation of in another. Instances on this head are so obvious thatthey need not be mentioned. In short, the whole doctrine of railleryis comprized in this famous line:--

 "_Quid_ de _quoque_ viro, et _cui_ dicas, saepe caveto. " "Be cautious _what_ you say, _of whom_ and _to whom_"

And now, methinks, I hear some one cry out that such restrictions are, in effect, to exclude all raillery from conversation; and, to confessthe truth, it is a weapon from which many persons will do wisely intotally abstaining; for it is a weapon which doth the more mischief byhow much the blunter it is. The sharpest wit therefore is only to beindulged the free use of it, for no more than a very slight touch isto be allowed; no hacking, nor bruising, as if they were to hew acarcase for hounds, as Shakspeare phrases it. 

Nor is it sufficient that it be sharp, it must be used likewise withthe utmost tenderness and good-nature; and, as the nicest dexterity ofa gladiator is shewn in being able to hit without cutting deep, so isthis of our railler, who is rather to tickle than wound. 

True raillery indeed consists either in playing on peccadilloes, which, however they may be censured by some, are not esteemed asreally blemishes in a character in the company where they are made thesubject of mirth; as too much freedom with the bottle, or too muchindulgence with women, &c. 

Or, secondly, in pleasantly representing real good qualities in afalse light of shame, and bantering them as ill ones. So generositymay be treated as prodigality; oeconomy as avarice; true courage asfoolhardiness; and so of the rest. 

Lastly, in ridiculing men for vices and faults which they are known tobe free from. Thus the cowardice of A--le, the dulness of Ch--d, theunpoliteness of D--ton, may be attacked without danger of offence; andthus Lyt--n may be censured for whatever vice or folly you please toimpute to him. 

And, however limited these bounds may appear to some, yet, in skilfuland witty hands, I have known raillery, thus confined, afford a verydiverting, as well as inoffensive, entertainment to the whole company. 

I shall conclude this essay with these two observations, which I thinkmay be clearly deduced from what hath been said. 

First, that every person who indulges his ill-nature or vanity at theexpense of others, and in introducing uneasiness, vexation, andconfusion into society, however exalted or high-titled he may be, isthoroughly ill-bred. 

Secondly, that whoever, from the goodness of his disposition orunderstanding, endeavours to his utmost to cultivate the good-humourand happiness of others, and to contribute to the ease and comfort ofall his acquaintance, however low in rank fortune may have placed him, or however clumsy he may be in his figure or demeanour, hath, in thetruest sense of the word, a claim to good-breeding. 

 * * * * *

THE TRUE PATRIOT

No. 13. 

TUESDAY, JANUARY 28, 1746. 

Qui non recte instituunt atque erudiunt liberos, non solum liberis sedet reipublicae faciunt injuriam. --CICERO. 

MR ADAMS having favoured me with a second letter, I shall give it thepublic without any apology. If anything in it should at first a littleshock those readers who know the world better, I hope they will makeallowances for the ignorance and simplicity of the writer. 

TO THE TRUE PATRIOT. 

MY WORTHY FRIEND, --I am concerned to find, by all our public accounts, that the rebels still continue in the land. In my last I evidentlyproved that their successes were owing to a judgment denounced againstour sins, and concluded with some exhortations for averting the Divineanger by the only methods which suggested themselves to my mind. Theseexhortations, by the event, I perceive have not had that regard paidto them I had reason to expect. Indeed, I am the more confirmed inthis conjecture, by a lad whom I lately met at a neighbouringbaronet's, where I sojourned the two last days of the year, with mygood friend Mr Wilson. 

This lad, whom I imagined to have been come from school to visit hisfriends for the holidays (for though he is perhaps of sufficient age, I found, on examination, he was not yet qualified for the university), is, it seems, a man _sui juris_; and is, as I gather from theyoung damsels, Sir John's daughters, a member of the society of_bowes_. I know not whether I spell the word right; for I am notashamed to say I neither understand its etymology nor true import, asit hath never once occurred in any lexicon or dictionary which I haveyet perused. 

Whatever this society may be, either the lad with whom I communed isan unworthy member, or it would become the government to put it downby authority; for he uttered many things during our discourse forwhich I would have well scourged any of the youth under my care. 

He had not long entered the chamber before he acquainted the damselsthat he and his companions had carried the opera, in opposition to theputs; by which I afterwards learnt he meant all sober and discreetpersons. "And fags!" says he (I am afraid, though, he made use of aworse word), "we expected the bishops would have interfered; but ifthey had we should have silenced them. " I then thought to myself, Strippling, if I had you well horsed on the back of another lad, Iwould teach you more reverence to their lordships. 

This opera, I am informed, is a diversion in which a prodigious sum ofmoney, more than is to be collected out of twenty parishes, islavished away on foreign eunuchs and papists, very scandalous to besuffered at any time, especially at a season when both war and faminehang over our heads. 

[Illustration: "He acquainted the damsels that he and his companionshad carried the opera. "]

During the whole time of our repast at dinner the young gentlemanentertained us with an account of several drums and routs at which hehad been present. These are, it seems, large congregations of men andwomen, who, instead of assembling together to hear something that isgood, nay, or to divert themselves with gambols, which might beallowed now and then in holiday times, meet for no other purpose butthat of gaming, for a whole guinea and much more at a stake. At thismarried women sit up all night, nay, sometimes till one or two in themorning, neglect their families, lose their money, and some, Mr Wilsonsays, have been suspected of doing even worse than that. Yet this issuffered in a Christian kingdom; nay (_quod prorsus incredibileest_), the holy sabbath is, it seems, prostituted to these wickedrevellings; and card-playing goes on as publickly then as on any otherday; nor is this only among the young lads and damsels, who might besupposed to know no better, but men advanced in years, and gravematrons, are not ashamed of being caught at the same pastime. _Otempora! O mores!_

When grace was said after meat, and the damsels departed, the ladbegan to grow more wicked. Sir John, who is an honest Englishman, hathno other wine but that of Portugal. This our _bowe_ could notdrink; and when Sir John very nobly declared he scorned to indulge hispalate with rarities, for which he must furnish the foe with money tocarry on a war with the nation, the stripling replied, "Rat thenation!" (God forgive me for repeating such words) "I had rather liveunder French government than be debarred from French wine. " Oho, myyouth! if I had you horsed, thinks I again. --But, indeed, Sir Johnwell scourged him with his tongue for that expression, and I shouldhave hoped he had made him ashamed, had not his subsequent behaviourshewn him totally void of grace. For when Sir John asked him for atoast, which you know is another word for drinking the health of one'sfriend or wife, or some person of public eminence, he named the healthof a married woman, filled out a bumper of wine, swore he would drinkher health in vinegar, and at last openly profest he would commitadultery with her if he could. _Proh pudor!_ Nay, and if such asin might admit of any aggravation, she is it seems a lady of veryhigh degree, _et quidem_, the wife of a lord. 

_Et dies et charta deficerent si omnia vellem percurrere, multaquldem impura et impudica quae memorare nefas, recitavit_. Nor isthis youth, it seems, a monster or prodigy in the age he lives; on thecontrary, I am told he is an exemplar only of all the rest. 

But I now proceed to what must surprize you. After he had spent anhour in rehearsing all the vices to which youth have been ever toomuch addicted, and shewn us that he was possessed of them all--_Utqui impudicus, adulter, ganeo, alea, manu, ventre, pene, bona patrialaceraverat_, he began to enter upon politics:

 O proceres censore opus an haruspice nobis!

This stripling, this _bowe_, this rake, discovered likewise allthe wickedness peculiar to age, and that he had not, with those viceswhich proceed from the warmth of youth, one of the virtues which weshould naturally expect from the same sanguine disposition. He shewedus that grey hairs could add nothing but hypocrisy to him; for heavowed public prostitution, laughed at all honour, public spirit, andpatriotism; and gave convincing proofs that the most phlegmatic oldmiser upon earth could not be sooner tempted with gold to perpetratethe most horrid iniquities than himself. 

Whether this youth be (_quod vix credo_) concerned himself in thepublic weal, or whether he have his information from others, I hope hegreatly exceeded the truth in what he delivered on this subject; forwas he to be believed, the conclusion we must draw would be, that theonly concern of our great men, even at this time, was for places andpensions; that, instead of applying themselves to renovate and restoreour sick and drooping commonweal, they were struggling to get closestto her heart, and, like leeches, to suck her last drop of vital blood. 

I hope, however, better things, and that this lad deserves a good rodas well for lying as for all his other iniquity; and if his parents donot take care to have it well laid on, I can assure them they havemuch to answer for. 

Mr Wilson now found me grow very uneasy, as, indeed, I had been fromthe beginning, nor could anything but respect to the company haveprevented me from correcting the boy long before; he thereforeendeavoured to turn the discourse, and asked our spark when he leftLondon? To which he answered, the Wednesday before. "How, sir?" saidI; "travel on Christmas Day?" "Was it so?" says he; "fags! that'smore than I knew; but why not travel on Christmas Day as well as anyother?" "Why not?" said I, lifting my voice, for I had lost allpatience; "was you not brought up in the Christian religion? Did younever learn your catechism?" He then burst out into an unmannerlylaugh, and so provoked me, that I should certainly have smote him, hadI not laid my crabstick down in the window, and had not Mr Wilson beenfortunately placed between us. "Odso! Mr Parson, " says he, "are youthere? I wonder I had not smoked you before. " "Smoke me!" answered I, and at the same time leaped from my chair, my wrath being highlykindled. At which instant a jackanapes, who sat on my left hand, whipped my peruke from my head, which I no sooner perceived than Iporrected him a remembrance over the face, which laid him sprawling onthe floor. I was afterwards concerned at the blow, though theconsequence was only a bloody nose, and the lad, who was a companionof the other's, and had uttered many wicked things, which Ipretermitted in my narrative, very well deserved correction. 

A bustle now arose, not worth recounting, which ended in my departurewith Mr Wilson, though we had purposed to tarry there that night. 

In our way home we both lamented the peculiar hardiness of thiscountry, which seems bent on its own destruction, nor will takewarning by any visitation, till the utmost wrath of Divine vengeanceovertakes it. 

In discoursing upon this subject, we imputed much of the presentprofligacy to the notorious want of care in parents in the educationof youth, who, as my friend informs me, with very littleschool-learning, and not at all instructed (_ne minime quidemimbuti_) in any principles of religion, virtue, and morality, arebrought to the great city, or sent to travel to other great citiesabroad, before they are twenty years of age, where they become theirown masters, and enervate both their bodies and minds with all sortsof diseases and vices before they are adult. 

I shall conclude with a passage in Aristotle's Politics, lib. Viii. Cap. I. "[Greek text]" Which, for the sake of women, andthose few gentlemen who do not understand Greek, I have renderedsomewhat paraphrastically in the vernacular:--"No man can doubt butthat the education of youth ought to be the principal care of everylegislator; by the neglect of which, great mischief accrues to thecivil polity in every city. "

I am, while you write like an honest man and a good Christian, yourhearty friend and well-wisher, ABRAHAM ADAMS. 

 * * * * *

THE COVENT-GARDEN JOURNAL. 

No. 10. 

TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 4, 1752. 

At nostri proavi Plautinos et numeros, etLaudavere sales; nimium patienter utrumque, Ne dicam stulte, mirati. 

MODERNISED. 

In former times this tasteless, silly townToo fondly prais'd Tom D'Urfey and Tom Brown. 

THE present age seems pretty well agreed in an opinion, that theutmost scope and end of reading is amusement only; and such, indeed, are now the fashionable books, that a reader can propose no more thanmere entertainment, and it is sometimes very well for him if he findseven this, in his studies. 

Letters, however, were surely intended for a much more noble andprofitable purpose than this. Writers are not, I presume, to beconsidered as mere jack-puddings, whose business it is only to excitelaughter: this, indeed, may sometimes be intermixed and served up withgraver matters, in order to titillate the palate, and to recommendwholesome food to the mind; and for this purpose it hath been used bymany excellent authors: "for why, " as Horace says, "should not any onepromulgate truth with a smile on his countenance?" Ridicule indeed, ashe again intimates, is commonly a stronger and better method ofattacking vice than the severer kind of satire. 

When wit and humour are introduced for such good purposes, when theagreeable is blended with the useful, then is the writer said to havesucceeded in every point. Pleasantry (as the ingenious author ofClarissa says of a story) should be made only the vehicle ofinstruction; and thus romances themselves, as well as epic poems, maybecome worthy the perusal of the greatest of men: but when no moral, no lesson, no instruction, is conveyed to the reader, where the wholedesign of the composition is no more than to make us laugh, the writercomes very near to the character of a buffoon; and his admirers, if anold Latin proverb be true, deserve no great compliments to be paid totheir wisdom. 

After what I have here advanced I cannot fairly, I think, berepresented as an enemy to laughter, or to all those kinds of writingthat are apt to promote it. On the contrary, few men, I believe, domore admire the works of those great masters who have sent theirsatire (if I may use the expression) laughing into the world. Such arethe great triumvirate, Lucian, Cervantes, and Swift. These authors Ishall ever hold in the highest degree of esteem; not indeed for thatwit and humour alone which they all so eminently possest, but becausethey all endeavoured, with the utmost force of their wit and humour, to expose and extirpate those follies and vices which chieflyprevailed in their several countries. I would not be thought toconfine wit and humour to these writers. Shakspeare, Moliere, and someother authors, have been blessed with the same talents, and haveemployed them to the same purposes. There are some, however, who, though not void of these talents, have made so wretched a use of them, that, had the consecration of their labours been committed to thehands of the hangman, no good man would have regretted their loss; noram I afraid to mention Rabelais, and Aristophanes himself, in thisnumber. For, if I may speak my opinion freely of these two lastwriters, and of their works, their design appears to me very plainlyto have been to ridicule all sobriety, modesty, decency, virtue, andreligion, out of the world. Now, whoever reads over the five greatwriters first mentioned in this paragraph, must either have a very badhead or a very bad heart if he doth not become both a wiser and abetter man. 

In the exercise of the mind, as well as in the exercise of the body, diversion is a secondary consideration, and designed only to make thatagreeable which is at the same time useful, to such noble purposes ashealth and wisdom. But what should we say to a man who mounted hischamber-hobby, or fought with his own shadow, for his amusement only?how much more absurd and weak would he appear who swallowed poisonbecause it was sweet?

How differently did Horace think of study from our modern readers!

 Quid verum atque decens curo et rogo, et omnis in hoc sum: Condo et compono, quae mox depromere possim. 

"Truth and decency are my whole care and enquiry. In this study I amentirely occupied; these I am always laying up, and so disposing thatI can at any time draw forth my stores for my immediate use. " Thewhole epistle, indeed, from which I have paraphrased this passage, isa comment upon it, and affords many useful lessons of philosophy. 

When we are employed in reading a great and good author, we ought toconsider ourselves as searching after treasures, which, if well andregularly laid up in the mind, will be of use to us on sundryoccasions in our lives. If a man, for instance, should be overloadedwith prosperity or adversity (both of which cases are liable to happento us), who is there so very wise, or so very foolish, that, if he wasa master of Seneca and Plutarch, could not find great matter ofcomfort and utility from their doctrines? I mention these rather thanPlato and Aristotle, as the works of the latter are not, I think, yetcompletely made English, and, consequently, are less within the reachof most of my countrymen. 

But perhaps it may be asked, will Seneca or Plutarch make us laugh?Perhaps not; but if you are not a fool, my worthy friend, which I canhardly with civility suspect, they will both (the latter especially)please you more than if they did. For my own part, I declare, I havenot read even Lucian himself with more delight than I have Plutarch;but surely it is astonishing that such scribblers as Tom Brown, TomD'Urfey, and the wits of our age, should find readers, while thewritings of so excellent, so entertaining, and so voluminous an authoras Plutarch remain in the world, and, as I apprehend, are very littleknown. 

The truth I am afraid is, that real taste is a quality with whichhuman nature is very slenderly gifted. It is indeed so very rare, andso little known, that scarce two authors have agreed in their notionsof it; and those who have endeavoured to explain it to others seem tohave succeeded only in shewing us that they know it not themselves. IfI might be allowed to give my own sentiments, I should derive it froma nice harmony between the imagination and the judgment; and henceperhaps it is that so few have ever possessed this talent in anyeminent degree. Neither of these will alone bestow it; nothing isindeed more common than to see men of very bright imaginations, and ofvery accurate learning (which can hardly be acquired withoutjudgment), who are entirely devoid of taste; and Longinus, who of allmen seems most exquisitely to have possessed it, will puzzle hisreader very much if he should attempt to decide whether imagination orjudgment shine the brighter in that inimitable critic. 

But as for the bulk of mankind, they are clearly void of any degree oftaste. It is a quality in which they advance very little beyond astate of infancy. The first thing a child is fond of in a book is apicture, the second is a story, and the third a jest. Here then is thetrue Pons Asinorum, which very few readers ever get over. 

From what I have said it may perhaps be thought to appear that truetaste is the real gift of nature only; and if so, some may ask to whatpurpose have I endeavoured to show men that they are without ablessing which it is impossible for them to attain?

Now, though it is certain that to the highest consummation of taste, as well as of every other excellence, nature must lend muchassistance, yet great is the power of art, almost of itself, or atbest with only slender aids from nature; and, to say the truth, thereare very few who have not in their minds some small seeds oftaste. "All men, " says Cicero, "have a sort of tacit sense of what isright or wrong in arts and sciences, even without the help of arts. "This surely it is in the power of art very greatly to improve. Thatmost men, therefore, proceed no farther than as I have above declared, is owing either to the want of any, or (which is perhaps yet worse) toan improper education. 

I shall probably, therefore, in a future paper, endeavour to lay downsome rules by which all men may acquire at least some degree oftaste. In the meanwhile, I shall (according to the method observed ininoculation) recommend to my readers, as a preparative for theirreceiving my instructions, a total abstinence from all bad books. I dotherefore most earnestly intreat all my young readers that they wouldcautiously avoid the perusal of any modern book till it hath first hadthe sanction of some wise and learned man; and the same caution Ipropose to all fathers, mothers, and guardians. 

"Evil communications corrupt good manners, " is a quotation of St Paulfrom Menander. _Evil books corrupt at once both our manners and ourtaste_. 

 * * * * *

No. 33. 

SATURDAY, APRIL 23, 1752. 

 Odi profanum vulgas. --HOR. 

 I hate profane rascals. 

SIR, --In this very learned and enlightened age, in which authors arealmost as numerous as booksellers, I doubt not but your correspondentsfurnish you with a sufficient quantity of waste paper. I perhaps mayadd to the heap; for, as men do not always know the motive of theirown actions, I may possibly be induced, by the same sort of vanity asother puny authors have been, to desire to be in print. But I am verywell satisfied with you for my judge, and if you should not thinkproper to take any notice of the hint I have here sent you, I shallconclude that I am an impertinent correspondent, but that you are ajudicious and impartial critic. In my own defence, however, I must saythat I am never better pleased than when I see extraordinary abilitiesemployed in the support of His honour and religion, who has sobountifully bestowed them. It is for this reason that I wish you wouldtake some notice of the character, or rather story, here sent you. Inmy travels westward last summer I lay at an inn in Somersetshire, remarkable for its pleasant situation and the obliging behaviour ofthe landlord, who, though a downright rustic, had an awkward sort ofpoliteness arising from his good-nature that was very pleasing, and, if I may be allowed the expression, was a sort of good-breedingundrest. As I intended to make a pretty long journey the next day, Irose time enough to behold that glorious luminary the sun set out onhis course, which, by-the-by, is one of the finest sights the eye canbehold; and, as it is a thing seldom seen by people of fashion, unlessit be at the theatre at Covent-garden, I could not help laying somestress upon it here. The kitchen in this inn was a very pleasant room;I therefore called for some tea, sat me in the window that I mightenjoy the prospect which the country afforded, and a more beautifulone is not in the power of imagination to frame. This house wassituated on the top of a hill; and for two miles below it meadows, enlivened with variety of cattle, and adorned with a greater varietyof flowers, first caught my sight. At the bottom of this vale ran ariver which seemed to promise coolness and refreshment to the thirstycattle. The eye was next presented with fields of corn that made akind of an ascent which was terminated by a wood, at the top of whichappeared a verdant hill situate as it were in the clouds where the sunwas just arrived, and, peeping o'er the summit, which was at this timecovered with dew, gilded it over with his rays and terminated my viewin the most agreeable manner in the world. In a word, the elegantsimplicity of every object round me filled my heart with suchgratitude, and furnished my mind with such pleasing meditations, asmade me thank Heaven I was born. But this state of joyous tranquillitywas not of long duration: I had scarce begun my breakfast, when myears were saluted with a genteel whistle, and the noise of a pair ofslippers descending the staircase; and soon after I beheld a contrastto my former prospect, being a very beauish gentleman, with a hugelaced hat on, as big as Pistol's in the play; a wig somewhatdishevelled, and a face which at once gave you a perfect idea ofemptiness, assurance, and intemperance. His eyes, which before werescarce open, he fixt on me with a stare which testified surprise, andhis coat was immediately thrown open to display a very handsomesecond-hand gold-laced waistcoat. In one hand he had a pair ofsaddlebags, and in the other a hanger of mighty size, both of which, with a graceful G--d d--n you, he placed upon a chair. Then, advancingtowards the landlord, who was standing by me, he said, "By G--d, landlord, your wine is damnable strong. " "I don't know, " replied thelandlord; "it is generally reckoned pretty good, for I have it allfrom London. "--"Pray, who is your wine merchant?" says the man ofimportance. "A very great man, " says the landlord, "in his way;perhaps you may know him, sir; his name is Kirby. " "Ah, what! honestTom? he and I have cracked many a bottle of claret together; he is oneof the most considerable merchants in the city; the dog is hellishpoor, damnable poor, for I don't suppose he is worth a farthing morethan a hundred thousand pound; only a plum, that's all; he is to beour lord-mayor next year. " "I ask pardon, sir, that is not the man, for our Mr Kirby's name is not Thomas but Richard. " "Ay!" says thegentleman, "that's his brother; they are partners together. " "Ibelieve, " says the landlord, "you are out, sir, for that gentleman hasno brother. " "D--n your nonsense, with you and your outs!" says thebeau; "as if I should not know better than you country puts; I whohave lived in London all my lifetime. " "I ask a thousand pardons, "says the landlord; "I hope no offence, sir. " "No, no, " cries theother; "we gentlemen know how to make allowance for your countrybreeding. " Then stepping to the kitchen door, with an audible voice hecalled the ostler, and in a very graceful accent said, "D--n yourblood, you cock-eyed son of a bitch, bring me my boots! did not youhear me call?" Then turning to the landlord said, "Faith! that MrWhat-de-callum, the exciseman, is a damned jolly fellow. " "Yes, sir, "says the landlord, "he is a merryish sort of a man. " "But, " says thegentleman, "as for that schoolmaster, he is the queerest bitch I eversaw; he looks as if he could not say boh to a goose. " "I don't know, sir, " says the landlord; "he is reckoned to be a desperate goodschollard about us, and the gentry likes him vastly, for heunderstands the measurement of land and timber, knows how to makedials and such things; and for ciphering few can outdo 'en. " "Ay!"says the gentleman, "he does look like a cipher indeed, for he did notspeak three words all last night. " The ostler now produced the boots, which the gentleman taking in his hand, and having placed himself inthe chair, addressed in the following speech: "My good friends, MrBoots, I tell you plainly that, if you plague me so damnably as youdid yesterday morning, by G-- I'll commit you to the flames; stap myvituals! as my lord Huntingdon says in the play. " He then looked fullin my face, and asked the landlord if he had ever been at Drury-laneplayhouse; which he answered in the negative. "What!" says he, "didyou never hear talk of Mr Garrick and king Richard?" "No, sir, " saysthe landlord. " By G--, " says the gentleman, "he is the cleverestfellow in England. " He then spouted a speech out of King Richard, which begins, "Give me an horse, " &c. "There, " says he, "that, that isjust like Mr Garrick. " Having pleased himself vastly with thisperformance, he shook the landlord by the hand with great good-humour, and said, " By G-- you seem to be an honest fellow, and good blood; ifyou'll come and see me in London, I'll give you your skinful of wine, and treat you with a play and a whore every night you stay. I'll showyou how it is to live, my boy. But here, bring me some paper, my girl;come, let us have one of your love-letters to air my boots. " Uponwhich the landlord presented him with a piece of an oldnewspaper. "D--n you!" says the gent, "this is not half enough; haveyou never a Bible or Common Prayer-book in the house? Half a dozenchapters of Genesis, with a few prayers, make an excellent fire in apair of boots. " "Oh! Lord forgive you!" says the landlord; "sure youwould not burn such books as those?" "No!" cries the spark; "where wasyou born? Go into a shop of London and buy some butter or a quarternof tea, and then you'll see what use is made of these books. " "Ay!"says the landlord, "we have a saying here in our country that 'tis assure as the devil is in London, and if he was not there they could notbe so wicked as they be. " Here a country fellow who had been standingup in one corner of the kitchen eating of cold bacon and beans, andwho, I observed, trembled at every oath this spark swore, took hisdish and pot, and marched out of the kitchen, fearing, as I afterwardslearnt, that the house would fall down about his ears, for he wassure, he said, "That man in the gold-laced hat was the devil. " Theyoung spark, having now displayed all his wit and humour, and exertedhis talents to the utmost, thought he had sufficiently recommendedhimself to my favour and convinced me he was a gentleman. He thereforewith an air addressed himself to me, and asked me which way I wastravelling? To which I gave him no answer. He then exalted his voice;but, at my continuing silent, he asked the landlord if I wasdeaf. Upon which the landlord told him he did not believe thegentleman was dunch, for that he talked very well just now. The manof wit whispered in the landlord's ear, and said, "I suppose he iseither a parson or a fool. " He then drank a dram, observing that a manshould not cool too fast; paid sixpence more than his reckoning, called for his horse, gave the ostler a shilling, and galloped out ofthe inn, thoroughly satisfied that we all agreed with him in thinkinghim a clever fellow and a man of great importance. The landlord, smiling, took up his money, and said he was a comical gentleman, butthat it was a thousand pities he swore so much; if it was not forthat, he was a very good customer, and as generous as a prince, forthat the night before he had treated everybody in the house. I thenasked him if he knew that comical gentleman, as he called him? "No, really, sir, " said the landlord, "though a gentleman was saying lastnight that he was a sort of rider or rideout to a linendraper atLondon. " This, Mr Censor, I have since found to be true; for, havingoccasion to buy some cloth, I went last week into a linendraper'sshop, in which I found a young fellow whose decent behaviour and plaindress shewed he was a tradesman. Upon looking full in his face Ithought I had seen it before; nor was it long before I recollectedwhere it was, and that this was the same beau I had met with inSomersetshire. The difference in the same man in London, where he wasknown, and in the country, where he was a stranger, was beyondexpression; and, was it not impertinent to make observations to you, Icould inlarge upon this sort of behaviour; for I am firmly of opinionthat there is neither spirit nor good sense in oaths, nor any wit orhumour in blasphemy. But as vulgar errors require an abler pen thanmine to correct them, I shall leave that task to you, and am, sir, your humble servant, R. S. 

 * * * * *

FAMILIAR LETTERS. 

NOTE. 

(See _Introduction_. )

The following five letters were given me by the Author of thepreface. I should have thought this hint unnecessary, had not muchnonsense and scurrility been unjustly imputed to him by the _goodjudgment_ or _good-nature_ of the age. They can know butlittle of his writings, who want to have them pointed out; but theyknow much less of him, who impute any such base and scandalousproductions to his pen. 

Letter cli. 

_A letter from a French gentleman to his friend in Paris; inimitation of Horace, Addison, and all other writers of travellingletters. 

Done into English_. 

MONSIEUR, --

AT Whitehall we took a pair of oars for Putney. These we had indeedsome difficulty to procure; for many refused to go with us fartherthan Foxhall or Ranelagh Gardens. At last we prevailed with twofellows for three half-crowns to take us on board. 

I have been told there was formerly a law regulating the fares ofthese people; but that is to be sure obsolete. I think it pity it wasnot revived. 

As the weather was extremely fine, we did not regret the tide'srunning against us, since by that means we had more opportunity ofmaking observations on the finest river in the world except the Seine. 

After taking a survey of the New Bridge, which must be greatly admiredby all who have not seen the Pontneuf, we past by a row of buildings, not very remarkable for their elegance, being chiefly built of wood, and irregular. Many of them are supported by pillars; but of whatorder we could not plainly discern. 

We came now to Lambeth, where is a palace of the Archbishop ofCanterbury, the metropolitan of England. This is a vast pile ofbuilding, not very beautiful indeed in its structure, but wonderfullywell calculated, as well to signify, as to answer the use for which itwas, I suppose, originally intended; containing a great number oflittle apartments for the reception of travelling and distressedChristians. 

Lambeth is perhaps so called from Lamb, which is the type of meekness. 

The next place of note, as we ascend the river, is Fox-Hall, or ratherFox-Hole, the first syllable of which is corrupted into Vaux by thevulgar, who tell a foolish story of one Vaux who resided here, andattempted to blow up the Thames. But the true reading is Fox-Hole, asappears by an ancient piece of painting, representing that animalwhence it takes its name, and which is now to be seen on a high woodenpillar, _Anglice_ a sign-post, not far from the landing-place. 

A very little farther stands Marble-Hall, of which we had a full viewfrom the water. This is a most august edifice, built all of a richmarble, which, reflecting the sun-beams, creates an object toodazzling for the sight. 

Having passed this, we were entertained with a most superb piece ofarchitecture of white, or rather yellow brick. This belongs to one ofthe _bourgeois_, as do indeed most of the villas which border onboth sides this river, and they tend to give as magnificent an idea ofthe riches which flow in to these people by trade, as the shippingdoth, which is to be seen below the bridge of London. 

Hence a range of most delicious meadows begins to open, which, beingrichly enamelled with flowers of all kinds, seem to contend whetherthey shall convey most pleasure to your sight or to your smell. Ourcontemplation was however diverted from this scene by a boat, in whichwere two young ladies extremely handsome, who accosted us in somephrase which we, who thought ourselves pretty good masters of theEnglish tongue, did not understand. They were answered however by ourwatermen, who afterwards told us, that this is called water-language;and consequently, I suppose, not to be learned on shore. 

The next place which presents itself on the Surry side (for I reservethe other shore for my return) is the pleasant village of Battersea;the true reading of which we conjectured to be Bettersee; and that itwas formerly a bishoprick, and had the preference to Shelsee, of whichwe shall speak anon. It is chiefly famous at present for affording aretreat to one of the greatest statesmen of his time, who hath here amagnificent palace. 

From Bettersee, verging to the south-west, stands Wanser, as it isvulgarly called; but its true name was undoubtedly Windmill-Shore, from whence it is a very easy corruption; and several windmills areyet to be found in its neighbourhood. Here are to be seen a parishchurch, and some houses; but it is otherwise little worth thecuriosity of travellers. 

As you sail from hence, two lofty towers at once salute your eyes fromopposite shores of the river, divided by a magnificent woodenbridge. That on the Surry shore is called Putney or Putnigh, a fairand beautiful town, consisting principally of one vast street, whichextends from north to south, and is adorned with most beautifulbuildings. 

Here we went ashore, in order to regale ourselves in one of theirhouses of entertainment, as they are called; but in reality there isno entertainment at them. Here were no tarts nor cheesecakes, nor anysort of food but an English dish called _bread and cheese_, andsome raw flesh. 

But if it be difficult to find anything to allay hunger, it is stillmore so to quench your thirst. There is a liquor sold in this countrywhich they call wine (most of the inhabitants indeed call it_wind_). Of what ingredients it is composed I cannot tell; butyou are not to conceive, as the word seems to import, that this is atranslation of our French word _vin_, a liquor made of the juiceof the grape; for I am very well assured there is not a drop of anysuch juice in it. There must be many ingredients in this liquor, fromthe many different tastes; some of which are sweet, others sour, andothers bitter; but though it appeared so nauseous to me and my friend, that we could not swallow it, the English relish it very well; nay, they will often drink a gallon of it at a sitting; and sometimes intheir cups (for it intoxicates) will wantonly give it the names of allour best wines. 

However, though we found nothing to eat or drink, we found somethingto pay. I send you a copy of the bill produced us on this occasion, asI think it a curiosity:

 _s. D_. For Bred and Bear 0 8 Eating 2 0 Wind 5 0 Watermen's Eating and Lickor 1 6 ---- 9 2

So that, with the drawer, we were at the expence of ten shillings;though no Catholic ever kept an Ash-Wednesday better. 

The drawers here may want some explanation. You must know then, thatin this country, in whatever house you eat or drink, whether privateor public, you are obliged to pay the servants a fee at yourdeparture, otherwise they certainly affront you. 

These fees are called vails; and they serve instead of wages: forthough in private houses the master generally contracts with hisservant to give him wages, yet these are seldom or never paid; andindeed the vails commonly amount to much more. 

From Putnigh we crossed over to the other shore, where stands the fairand beautiful town of Fullhome, vulgarly called Fulham. It isprincipally remarkable for being the residence of a bishop; but alarge grove of trees prevented our seeing his palace from the water. 

These two towns were founded by two sisters; and they received theirnames from the following occasion. These ladies being on the Surryshore, called for a boat to convey them across the water. The watermenbeing somewhat lazy, and not coming near enough to the land, the ladywho had founded the town which stands in Surry, bid them _putnigh;_ upon which her sister immediately cried out, "A good omen;let _Putnigh_ be the name of the place. " When they came to theother side, she who had founded the other town, ordered the watermento push the boat _full home;_ her sister then returned thefavour, and gave the name of _Fullhome_ to the place. 

Here stands a most stately and magnificent bridge. We enquired of thewatermen by whose benefaction this was built. "Benefaction, do youcall it?" says one of them with a sneer; "I heartily wish it had beenby mine; there hath been a fine parcel of money got by that_job_;" a name which the English give to all works of a publicnature: for so grateful are these people, that nobody ever dothanything for the public, but he is certain to make his fortune by it. 

We now returned by the shore of Middlesex, and passed by severalbeautiful meadows, where the new-mowed hay would have wonderfullydelighted our smell, had it not been for a great variety of dead dogs, cats, and other animals, which being plentifully bestrewed along thisshore, a good deal abated the sweetness which must have otherwiseimpregnated the air. 

We at length arrived at Shelsee, a corruption of Shallowsee; for theword shallow signifies empty, worthless. Thus a shallow purse and ashallow fellow are words of contempt. This, formerly, was doubtless asmall bishoprick, and inferior to that on the other side of the water, which was called Bettersee. 

Here are many things worthy the curiosity of travellers. This place isfamous for the residence of Don Saltero, a Spanish nobleman, who hatha vast collection of all sorts of rarities; but we had no time to seethem. 

Here is likewise a walk called Paradise Row, from the delightfulsituation, and the magnificent buildings with which it is adorned. Wehad certainly gone on shore to admire the beauty of this walk; buthere being no landing-place, we must have spoiled our stockings bystepping into the mud; and were besides informed that the road was soabominably dirty that it would be difficult to cross, the rather, asit seemed entirely stopped up by a great number of dust-carts. 

A little farther stands an hospital, or rather a palace, for thereception of old and wounded soldiers. A benefaction of so noble akind, that it really doth honour to the English nation. Here are somevery beautiful apartments, which they told us belonged to theofficers; a word which led us into a mistake, as we afterwardsdiscovered: for we imagined that these apartments were allotted tothose gentlemen who had borne commissions in the army, and who had, bybeing disabled in the service, entitled themselves to the publicfavour; but on farther enquiry, we were surprized to find there was noprovision at all for any such; and that these officers were a certainnumber of placemen, who had never borne arms, nor had any militarymerit whatever. 

Beyond this stands Ranelagh, of which we shall say no more than thatit is a very large round room, and will contain abundance ofpeople. This is indeed a sufficient recommendation to the English, whonever inquire farther into the merit of any diversion, when they hearit is very much frequented. A humour, of which we saw many instances:all their publick places being either quite empty of company, or socrouded, that we could hardly get to them. 

Hence sailing by a shore where we saw little very remarkable, saveonly the carcases of animals, which were here in much greater quantitythan we had before found them, we arrived at a place called Mill-Bank, or Mile-Bank; and soon after we passed, as we were informed, by theSenate-houses; but though we went within a few yards of them, we couldnot discern with any certainty which were they. 

Having again shot (as they call it) the New Bridge, we saw the palaceof a nobleman, who hath the honour to be a Duke of France as well asof England, and the happiness to be greatly esteemed in bothcountries. 

Near this palace stands that of another Duke, who, among other greatand good qualities, is reputed the most benevolent man in the world. 

A little further we saw the palace of an Earl, of a very highcharacter likewise among his countrymen; and who, in times ofcorruption, hath maintained the integrity of an old Roman. 

The palaces of these three noblemen, who do a real honour to theirhigh rank, and who are greatly beloved and respected by their country, are extremely elegant in their buildings, as well as delightful intheir situation; and, to be sincere, are the only edifices thatdiscover any true taste which we saw in all our voyage. 

We now approached to Hungerford-Stairs, the place destined for ourlanding; where we were entertained with a sight very common, it seems, in this country: this was the ducking of a pickpocket. When we werefirst told this, we imagined it might be the execution of some legalsentence: but we were informed, that his executioners had beenlikewise his judges. 

To give you some idea of this (for it is impossible for any one whodoth not live in what they call a free country, to have an adequatenotion of a mob) whenever a pickpocket is taken in the fact, theperson who takes him calls out "pickpocket. " Upon which word, the mob, who are always at hand in the street, assemble; and having heard theaccusation, and sometimes the defence (though they are not always verystrict as to the latter, judging a good deal by appearances), if theybelieve the accuser, the prisoner is sentenced to be ducked; and thissentence is immediately executed with such rigour, that he hardlyescapes with his life. 

The mob take cognizance of all other misdemeanours which happen in thestreets, and they are a court, which generally endeavours to dojustice, though they sometimes err, by the hastiness of theirdecisions. Perhaps it is the only court in the world, where there isno partiality arising from respect of persons. 

They are great enemies to the use of swords, as they are weapons withwhich they are not intrusted. If a gentleman draws a sword, though itbe only _in terrorem_ to defend himself, he is certain to be veryseverely treated by them; but they give great encouragement to theirsuperiors, who will condescend to shew their courage in the way whichthe mob themselves use, by boxing, of which we shall presently shewyou an instance. 

Our boat was now with some difficulty close to the landing-place; forthere was a great croud of boats, every one of which, instead ofmaking way for us, served to endeavour to keep us out. Upon thisoccasion many hundred curses passed between our watermen and theirfellows, and not a few affronts were cast on us, especially as we weredrest after the manner of our country. 

At last we arrived safe on shore, where we payed our watermen, whogrumbled at our not giving them something to drink (for all thelabouring people in this country apply their hire only to eatables, for which reason they expect something over and above to drink). 

As we walked towards the Strand, a drayman ran his whip directly intomy friend's face, perhaps with no design of doing this, but at thesame time, without any design of avoiding it. My friend, who isimpatient of an affront, immediately struck the carter with his fist, who attempted to return the favour with his whip; but MonsieurBellair, who is extremely strong and active, and who hath learnt tobox in this country, presently closed in with him, and tript up hisheels. 

The mob now assembled round us, and being pleased with my friend fornot having drawn his sword, inclined visibly to his side, andcommended many blows which he gave his adversary, and other feats ofactivity, which he displayed during the combat, that lasted someminutes; at the end of which, the drayman yielded up the victory, crying with a sneer--"D---n you, you have been on the stage, or I ammistaken. "

The mob now gave a huzza in my friend's favour, and sufficientlyupbraided his antagonist, who, they said, was well enough served foraffronting a gentleman. 

Monsieur Bellair had on the beginning of the scuffle, while the enemylay on the ground, delivered his sword to one of the bystanders; whichperson had unluckily walked off in the croud, without remembering torestore it. 

Upon this the mob raged violently, and swore vengeance against thethief, if he could be discovered; but as this could not be done, hewas obliged at length to submit to the loss. 

When we began to depart, several of our friends demanded of ussomething to drink; but as we were more out of humour with the loss, than pleased with the glory obtained, we could not be prevailed uponto open our purses. 

The company were incensed with this. We were saluted with the titlesof _Mounshire_, and other contemptuous appellations; severalmissile weapons, such as dirt, &c. , began likewise to play on us, andwe were both challenged to fight by several, who told my friend, though he beat the drayman, he was not above half a man. 

We then made the best of our way, and soon escaped into aHackney-coach. 

Thus I have sent you a particular account of this voyage, from someparts of which you may perhaps conclude, that the meanest rank ofpeople are in this country better provided for than their superiors;and that the gentry, at least those of the lower class of that order, fare full as well in other places: for, to say the truth, it appearsto me, that an Englishman in that station is liable to be opprest byall above him, and insulted by all below him. 

I am, &c. 

THE END.