SCENE, A Hall in Goodwill's houfe in the Country. GOODWILL folus. WELL, it is to me furprising, that out of the mulitudes who feel a pleasure in getting an eftate, few or none fhould taste a fatisfaction in beftowing it. Doubtless a good man must have vaft delight in rewarding merit ; nor will I believe it fo difficult to be found. I am at prefent, I thank Heaven and my own industry, worth a good 10,000l., and an only daughter; both which I am determined to give to the moft worthy of my poor relations. The tranfport I feel from the hope of making fome honeft man happy, makes me amends for the many weary days and fleepless nights my riches have coft me. I have fent to fummon 'em. The girl I have bred up under mine own eye; fhe has feen nothing, knows nothing, and has confequently no will but mine. I have no reason to doubt her confent to whatever choice I fhall make.How happily must my old age flide away away, between the affection of an innocent and dutiful child, and the grateful return I may expect from a somuch obliged fon-in-law! I am certainly the happiest man on earth. Here he comes. Enter Lucy, Lucy. Did you fend for me, papa? Good. Yes; come hither, child. I have fent for you to mention an affair to you, which you, I believe, have not yet thought of. Lucy. I hope it is not to fend me to a boarding-school, рара. Good. I hope my indulgence to you has been fuch, that you haye reason to regard me as the best of fathers. I am fure I have never deny'd you any thing but for your own good: Indeed I have confulted nothing else. It is that for which I have been toiling these many years: for which I have deny'd myself every comfort in life ; and from which I have, from renting a farm of 500 1. a-year, amaffed the fum of 10,000 1. Lucy. I am afraid you are angry with me, papa. Good. Be not frighten'd, my dear child, you have done nothing to offend me. But anfwer me one questionWhat does my little dear think of a husband? Lucy. A husband, papa! O la ! Good. Come, it is a question a girl in her fixteenth year may answer. Shou'd you like to have a husband, Lucy? Lucy. And am I to have a coach? Good. No, no; what has that to do with a husband? Lucy. Why, you know, papa, Sir John Wealthy's daughter was carry'd away in a coach by her husband; and I have been told by several of our neighbours, that I was to have a coach when I was married. Indeed I have dreamt of it a hundred times. I never dreamt of a husband in my whole life, that I did not dream of a coach. I have rid about in one all night in my fleep and methought it was the pureft thing! Good. Lock up a girl as you will, I find you cannot keep her from evil counfellors. [Afide.]-I tell you, child, you must have no coach with a husband. Lucy. Then let me have a coach without a husband. F Good. Good. What, had you rather have a coach than a hufband? Lucy. Hum-I don't know that-But if you'll get me a coach, let me alone, I'll warrant I'll get me a hufband. Do you, papa, but find a coach, And leave the other to me, Sir; To girls that walk, I've heard it, and I confide in't; Do you then fix My coach and fix, I warrant I get one to ride in't, to ride in't, Good. The girl is out of her wits, fure. Huffey, who put thefe thoughts into your head? You fhall have good fober husband, that will teach you better things. a Lucy. Ay, but I won't though, if I can help it; for Mifs Jenny Flant-it fays, a fober husband is the worst fort of a husband in the world. Good. I have a mind to found the girl's inclinations. Come hither, Lucy; tell me now, of all the men you ever faw, whom should you like beft for a husband? Lucy. O fy, papa, I must not tell. Good. Yes, you may your father. Lucy. No, Mifs Jenny fays I muft not tell my mind to any man whatever. She never tells a word of truth to her father. Good. Mifs Jenny is a wicked girl, and you must not regard her. Come,. tell me the truth, or I shall be angry. Lucy. Why, then, of all the men I ever faw in my whole life time, I like Mr. Thomas, my Lord Bounce's footman, the beft, a hundred thousand times. Good. Oh fy upon you! like a footman? Lucy. A footman! he looks a thousand times more like a gentleman than either Squire Foxchafe or Squire Tankard, and talks more like one, ay, and fmells more like one too. His head is fo prettily dreft, done all down upon the top with fugar, like a froiled cake, with three little curls on each fide, that you may fee his ears as plain! and then his hair is done up behind juft like a fine lady's, with a little little hat, and a pair of charming white ftockings, as neat and as fine as any white-legged fowl; and he always carries a great fwinging ftick in his hand, as big as himself, that he would knock any dog down with, who was to offer to bite me. A footman indeed! why, Mifs Jenny likes him as well as I do; and the fays, all the fine young gentlemen that the ladies in London are fo fond of, are juft fuch perfons as he is.Icod, I should have had him before now, but that folks told me I fhould have a man with a coach ; and that methinks I had rather have, a great deal. Good. I am amaz'd! But I abhor the mercenary temper in the girl worse than all-What, child, would you have any one with a coach? Would you have Mr. Achum? Lucy. Yes indeed would I, for a coach. Good. Why, he is a cripple, and can scarce walk acrofs the room. Lucy. What fignifies that? AIR II. Wully Honey. When he in a coach can be carry'd, That women for coaches are marry'd, But if the poor crippled elf In coach be not able to roam, Why then I can go by myself, And he may e'en stay at home. Enter Blifter. Blift. Mr. Goodwill, your humble fervant. I have rid twelve long miles in little more than an hour. I am glad to fee you fo well I was afraid, by your message Good. That I had wanted your advice, I fuppose: Truly, coz, I fent you on a better account- -Lucy, this is a relation of yours you have not feen a great while, my coufin Blifter the apothecary. Lucy. O la! I hope that great huge man is not to be my husband. F2 Blift. Blift. My Coufin is well grown, and looks healthy. What apothecary do you employ? He deals in good drugs, I warrant him. Good. Plain wholefome food and exercise is what fhe deals in. Blift. Plain wholefome food is very proper at some time of the year, with gentle phyfic between whiles. Good. Leave us a little, my dear Lucy. I must talk with your coufiu. Lucy. Yes, papa, with all my heart-I hope I fhall never fee that great thing again. [Exit. Good. I believe you begin to wonder at my message; and will perhaps more, when you know the occafion of it. In fhort, without more preface, I begin to find myfelf going out of the world, and my daughter very eager to come into it. I have therefore refolved to fee her fettled without farther delay. I am far from thinking vast wealth neceffary to happinefs: Wherefore, as I can give her a fufficient competency, I have determined to marry her to one of my own relations. It will please me, that the fruits of my labour fhould not go out of the family. I have fent to feveral of my kinfmen, of whom the fhall take her choice; and as you are the firft here, if you like my propofal, you shall make the first application. Blift. With all my heart, coufin; and I am very much oblig'd to you. Your daughter feems an agreeable young woman, and I have no averfion to marriage. But pray, why do you think yourself going out of the world? Proper care might continue you in it a confiderable while. Let me feel your pulse. Good. To oblige you; though I am in very good health. Blift. A little feverish-I would advise you to lose a little blood, and take an emulfion, with a gentle emetic and cathartic. Good. No, no, I will fend my daughter to you; but pray keep your phyfic to yourself, dear coufin. [Exit. Blift.This man is near feventy, and I have heard never took any phyfic in his life; and yet he looks as well as if he had been under the doctor's hands all his lifetime. "Tis ftrange; but if I marry his daughter, the fooner |