tleman for better or worse.' 'La, mamma, I can never consent.'- I should not have thought of your consent-the consent of your relations is enough: why how now, hussy! So, away you go to church, the knot is tied, an agreeable honey-moon follows, the charm is then dissolved; you go to all the clubs in St. James's street: your lady goes to the Coterie; and, in a little time, you both go to Doctor's Commons; and, if faults on both sides prevent a divorce, you'il quarrel like contrary elements all the rest of your lives: that's the way of the world now. Wood. But you know, my dear Dimity, the old couple have received every mark of attention from me. Dim. Attention! to be sure you did not fall asleep in their company; but what then? You should have entered into their characters, played with their humours, and sacrificed to their absurdities. Wood. But if my temper is too frank Dim. Frank, indeed! yes, you have been frank euough to ruin yourself. Have you not to do with a rich old shopkeeper, retired from business with an hundred thousand pounds in his pocket, to enjoy the dust of the Londou road, which he calls living in the country-and yet you must find fault with his situation! What if he has made a ridiculous gimcrack of his house and gardens, you know his heart is set upon it; and could not you commend his taste? But you must be too frank! Those walks and alleys are too regularthose evergreens should not be cut into such fantastic shapes! And thus you advise a poor old mechanic, who delights in every thing that's monstrous to follow nature-Oh, you are likely to be a successful lover! Wood. But why should I not save a father-inlaw from being a laughing stock? Dim. Make him your father-in-law first. Wood. Why, he can't open his windows for the dust-he stands all day looking through a pane of glass at the carts and stage-coaches as they pass by; and he calls that living in the fresh air, and enjoying his own thoughts! Dim. And could not you let him go on in his own way? You have ruined yourself by talking sense to him; and all your nonsense to the daughter won't make amends for it. And then the mother; how have you played your cards in that quarter?-She wants a tinsel man of fashion for her second daughter- Don't you see,' (says she) how happy my eldest girl is made by marrying Sir Charles Racket? She has been married three entire weeks, and not so much as one angry word has passed between themNancy shall have a man of quality, too! Wood. And yet I know Sir Charles Racket perfectly well. Dim. Yes, so do I; and I know he'll make his lady wretched at last. But what then? You should have humoured the old folks; you should have been a talking, empty fop, to the good old lady; and to the old gentleman, an admirer of his taste in gardening. But you have lost him: here in the house with him; the coxcomb ingrahe is grown fond of this heau Lovelace, who is tiates himself by flattery, and you are undone by frankness! Wood. And yet, Dimity, I won't despair. million of reasons-To-morrow is fixed for the Dim. And yet you have reason to despair; a wedding-day; Sir Charles and his lady are to be here this very night; they are engaged, indeed, at a great route in town, but they take a bed here, notwithstanding. The family is sitting up the next room there, till they arrive; and tofor them; Mr. Drugget will keep you all up in morrow the business is over; and yet you don't Lovelace. Step in, and I'll advise something, I despair! hush! hold your tongue; here comes warrant you. [Exit WOODLEY.] The old folks shall not have their own way; 'tis enough to vex a body, to see an old father and mother marrying their daughter as they please, in spite of all I can do. [Exit. Enter DRUGGET and LOVELACE. taste of all things. One sees villas, where na- now, mine is all art; no wild nature here; I did ficients in gardening to assist you? stand these things I love my garden. The front Love. Elegant to a degre! by my dining-room windows? Love. A perfect beauty! so well adapted-Tempus edar & inder rerum. bleman in the kingdom has such a thing? taste. I bought that bit of ground, the other a Love. Charmingly imagined! Drug. My leaden images are well— walk with an inanimate figure, that looks you ha!-Mr. Lovelace, I'll point out a beauty to you Just by the haw-haw, at the end of my ground, there is a fine Dutch figure, with a scythe in his hand, and a pipe in his mouth-that's a jewel, Mr. Lovelace. Love. That escaped me: a thousand thank's for pointing it out-I observe you have two very fine yew-trees before the house. Drug. Lack-a-day, sir, they look uncouthI have a design about them-I intend-ha, ha! it will be very pretty, Mr. Lovelace-I intend to have them cut into the shape of the two giants at Guildhall-ha, ha! Love. Nobody understands these things like you, Mr. Drugget. Drug. Lack-a-day! it's all my delight now -this is what I have been working for. I have a great improvement to make still-I propose to have my evergreens cut into fortifications; and then I shall have the Moro Castle, and the Havanua; and then near it shall be ships ofmyrtle, sailing upon seas of box to attack the town: won't that make my place look very rural, Mr. Lovelace? Love. Why you have the most fertile invention, Mr. Drugget -my Drug. Ha, ba! this is what I have been working for. I love my garden-but I must beg your pardon for a few moments. I must step and speak with a famous nursery-man, who is come to offer me some choice things.-Do, go and join the company, Mr. Lovelacedaughter Racket and Sir Charles will be here presently I sha'n't go to bed till I see them -ha, ha! -my place is prettily variegated -this is what I have been working for-I fined for sheriff to enjoy these things-ha, ha! [Exit. Love. Poor Mr. Drugget! Mynheer Van Thundertentrunck, in his little box at the side of a dike, has as much taste and eleganceHowever, if I can but carry off his daughter, if I can but rob his garden of that flower- why, I then shall say,This is what I have been working for.' Nan. Well, Dimity, what's to become of me! Dim. My stars! what makes you up, Miss? I thought you were gone to bed! Nan. What should I go to bed for? Only to tumble and toss, and fret, and be uneasy-they are going to marry me, and I am frighted out of my wits. Dim. Why then, you're the only young lady, within fifty miles round, that would be frightened at such a thing. Nan. Ah! if they would let me chuse for my self. Dim. Don't you like Mr. Lovelace? Nan. My mamma does, but I don't; I don't mind his being a man of fashion, not I. Dim. And, pray, can you do better than follow the fashion? Nan, Ah! I know there's a fashion for new bonnets, and a fashion for dressing the hair but I never heard of a fashion for the heart. Dim. Why then, my dear, the heart mostly follows the fashion now. Nan. Does it!-pray who sets the fashion of the heart? Dim. All the fine ladies in London, o' my conscience, Nun. And what's the last new fashion, pray? Dim. Why, to marry any fop, that has a few deceitful, agreeable appearances about him; something of a pert phrase, a good operator for the teeth, and tolerable tailor. Nan. And do they marry without loving? while out of fashion. Nan. Why, then, I'll wait till that fashion comes up again. Dim. And then, Mr. Lovelace, I reckon Nan, Pshaw! I don't like him: he talks to me as if he was the most miserable man in the world, and the confident thing looks so pleased with himself all the while! I want to marry for love, and not for card-playing-I should not be able to bear the life my sister leads with Sir Charles Racket-and I'll forfeit my new cap, if they don't quarrel soon. Dim. Oh fie! no! they won't quarrel yet a while.-A quarrel in three weeks after mat riage would be somewhat of the quickest-By and by we shall hear of their whims and their humours. Well, but if you don't like Mr. Lovelace, what say you to Mr. Woodley? Nan. Ah! I don't know what to say-But I can sing something that will explain my mind. SONG. When first the dear youth, passing by, My heart it went throb with delight. As nearer he drew, those sweet eyes Were with their dear meaning so bright, I trembled, and lost in surprize, My heart it went throb with delight. When his lips their dear accents did try My heart it went throb with delight. We changed the stolen glance, the fond smile, Consent I soon blushed, with a sigh, My promise I ventured to plight ; Come, Hymen, we then shall know why Our hearts they go throb with delight. Enter WOODLEY. Wood. My sweetest angel! I have heard all, and my heart overflows with love and gratitude. Nan. Ah! but I did not know you was listening! You should not have betrayed me so, Dimity: I shall be angry with you. - Dim. Well, I'll take my chance for that.Run both into my room, and say all your pretty things to one another there, for here comes the old gentleman—make haste! away! [Excunt WOODLEY and NANCY. Enter DRUGGET. Drug. A forward, presuming coxcomb! Dimity, do you step to Mrs. Drugget, and send her hither. Dim. Yes, sir; it works upon him, I see. [Exit. Drug. The yew-trees ought not to be cut, because they'll help to keep off the dust, and I am too near the road already-a sorry, ignorant fop! When I am in so fine a situation, and can see every carriage that goes by. And then to abuse the nursery-man's rarities! A finer sucking pig in lavender, with sage growing in his belly, was never seen! And yet he wants me not to have it-But have it I will! There's a fine tree of knowledge, too, with Adam and Eve in juniper; Eve's nose not quite grown, but it is thought in the spring will be very forward-I'll have that, too, with the serpent in ground ivytwo poets in wormwood-I'll have them both.Ay; and there's a lord mayor's feast in honey suckle; and the whole court of aldermen in hornbeam: and three modern beaux in jessamine, somewhat stunted: they all shall be in my garden, with the Dragon of Wantley in box-all-all -I'll have them all, let my wife and Mr. Lovelace say what they will Enter MRS. DRUGGET. Mrs. Drug. Did you send for me, lovey? Drag. The yew trees shall be cut into the gi ants of Guildhall, whether you will or not. Mrs. Drug. Sure my own dear will do as he pleases. Drug. And the pond, though you praise the green banks, shall be walled round, and I'll have a little fat boy in marble, spouting up water in the middle. Mrs. Drug. My sweet, who hinders you? Drug. Yes, and I'll buy the nursery-man's whole catalogue-Do you think, after retiring to live all the way here, almost four miles from London, that I won't do as I please in my own garden? Mrs. Drug. My dear, but why are you in such a passion? Drug. I'll have the lavender pig, and the Adam and Eve, and the Dragon of Wantley, and all of them; and there sha'n't be a more romantic spot on the London road than mine. Mrs. Drug. I am sure it's as pretty as hands daughter. Mrs. Drug. No! what's the matter now, Mr. Drugget? Drug. He shall learn better manners than to abuse my house and gardens. You put him at the head of it, but I'll disappoint ye both-And so you may go and tell Mr. Lovelace, that the match is quite off. Mrs. Drug. I can't comprehend all this, not I; but I'll tell him so, if you please, my dear. I am willing to give myself pain, if it will give you pleasure: must I give myself pain? Don't ask me, pray don't; I don't like pain. Drug. I am resolved, and it shall be so. Mrs. Drug. Let it be so, then. [Cries.] Oh, oh, cruel man! I shall break my heart, if the match is broke off-if it is not concluded tomorrow, send for an undertaker, and bury me the next day. Drug. How! I don't want that neither. Drug. I am your lord and master, my dear, but not your executioner-Before George, it must never be said, that my wife died of too much complianceChear up, my love-and this affair shall be settled as soon as Sir Charles and Lady Racket arrive. Mrs. Drug. You bring me to life again. You know, my sweet, what an happy couple Sir Charles and his lady are--Why should not we make our Nancy as happy? Dim. Well, sir! the happy couple are arrived. Drug. Yes, they do live happy, indeed! Dim. But how long will it last? Drug How long! Don't forebode any ill, you jade! don't, I say! it will last during their lives, I hope! Dim. Well, mark the end of it. Sir Charles, I know, is gay and good humoured-but he can't bear the least contradiction, no, not in the merest trifle. Drug. Hold your tongue-hold your tongue! Dim. Yes, sir, I have done and yet there is, in the composition of Sir Charles, a certain humour, which, like the flying gout, gives no disturbance to the family, till it settles in the head -When once it fixes there, mercy on every body about him! but here he comes. Enter SIR CHARLES. [Exit. Sir Cha. And my friend Lovelace-he is to have our sister Nancy, I find. Drug. Why, my life is so minded. Sir Cha. Oh, by all means, let her be made happy! A very pretty fellow, Lovelace! and, as to that Mr.Woodley, I think you call him-he is but a plain, underbred, ill-fashioned sort of a -nobody knows him; he is not one of us-Oh, by all means marry her to one of us. Drug. I believe it must be so-Would you take any refreshment? Sir Cha. Nothing in nature-it is time to retire. Drug. Well, well! good night, then, Sir Charles-Ha! bere comes my daughterGood night, Sir Charles! Sir Cha. Bon repos. Drug. [Going out.] My Lady Racket, I'm glad to hear how happy you are; I won't detain you now; there's your good man waiting for you good night, my girl! [Exit. putt, in or : Sir Cha. I must humour this old der to be remembered in his will. Lady Rac. No; dear me! this glove! why don't you help me off with my glove? pshaw !You aukward thing, let it alone! you a'n't fit to be about me; I might as well not be married, for any use you are of. Reach me a chair; you have no compassion for me-I am so glad to sit down! why do you drag me to routes? You know I hate them? Sir Cha. Oh, there's no existing, no breathing, unless one does as other people of fashion do. Lady Rac. But I'm out of humour; I lost all money. my Sir Cha. How much? Lady Rac. Three hundred. Sir Cha. Never fret for that-I don't value three hundred pounds to contribute to your happiness Lady Rac. Don't you? not value three hundred pounds to pleasure me? Sir Cha. You know I don't. Lady Rac. Ah, you fond fool! But I hate gaming. It almost metamorphoses a woman 16to a fury! Do you know that I was frighted at myself several times to-night? I had a huge oath at the very tip of my tongue. Sir Cha Had ye? Lady Rac. I caught myself at it; and so I bit my lips; and then I was crammed up in a corner of the room with such a strange party at a whist-table, looking at black and red spots; did you mind them? Sir Cha. You know I was busy elsewhere. Lady Rac. There was that strange unaccount able woman, Mrs. Nightshade. She behaved so strangely to her husband, a poor, inoffensive, good-natured, good sort of a good-for-nothing man; but she so teazed hun- How could you play that card? Ah, you have a head, and so has a pin! You are a numscull, you know you are -Madam, he has the poorest head in the world; he does not know what he is aboutyou know you don't-Ab, fye! I am ashamed of you! Sir Cha. She has served to divert you, I see. Lady Rac. And then, to cro rown all, there was my Lady Clackit, who runs on with an eternal volubility of nothing, out of all season, time, and place. In the very midst of the game, she be gins———ʻ Lard, madam, I was apprehensive I should not be able to wait on your ladyship my poor little dog, Pompey-the sweetest thing in the world-a spade led!—there's the knave-I was fetching a walk, me'm, the other morning in the Park-a fine frosty morning it was-I love frosty weather of all things-let me look at the last trick-and so, me'm, little Pompey-and if your ladyship was to see the dear creature pinched with the frost, and mincing his steps along the Mall-with his pretty little innocent faceI vow I don't know what to play-and so, me'm, while I was talking to Captain Flimsey-Your ladyship knows Captain Flimsey?-Nothing but rubbish in my handI can't help it and so, mem, five odions frights of dogs beset my poor little Pompey the dear creature has the heart of a lion, but Sir Chu. My dear, you would make a most excellent actress ! -but Lady Rac. Well, now let us go to rest Sir Charles, how shockingly you played that last rubber, when I stood looking over you! Sir Cha. My love, I played the truth of the game. Lady Rac. No, indeed, my dear, you played it wrong. Sir Cha. Pho! nonsense! you don't understand it. Lady Rac. I beg your pardon; I am allowed to play better than you. Sir Cha. All conceit, my dear; I was perfectly right. Lady Rac. No such thing, Şir Charles; the diamond was the play. Sir Cha. Pho, pho, ridiculous! the club was the card against the world. Lady Rac. Oh, no, no, no! I say it was the diamond! Sir Cha. Zounds, madam! I say it was the club! Lady Rac. What do you fly into such a passion for? Sir Cha. 'Sdeath and fury, do you think I don't know what I am about? I tell you once more, the club was the judgment of it. Lady Rac. May be so-have it your own way. [Walks about, and sings. Sir Cha. Vexation! you are the strangest woman that ever lived! there's uo conversing with you-Look'e here, my lady Racket-it's the clearest case in the world; I'll make it plain in a moment. Lady Rac. Well, sir! ha, ha, ha! [With a sneering laugh. Sir Cha. I had four cards left-a trump was led-they were six-no no, no; they were seven, and we nine-then you know-the beauty of the play was to~~~~~ Lady Rac. Well, now, it's amazing to me that you can't see it-give me leave, Sir Charles-your left hand adversary had led his last trump-and he had before finessed the club, and roughed the diamond-now, if you had put on your diamond Sir Cha. Zounds! madam, but we played for the odd trick! Lady Ruc. And sure, the play for the odd trick Sir Cha. Death and fury! can't you hear me? Sir Cha. Zounds! hear me, I say-Will you hear me? Lady Rac. I never heard the like in my life. voke the patience of a Stoick. -[Looks at her, and she walks about, and laughs uneasy.] Very well, inadam-you know no more of the game than your father's leaden Hercules on the top of the house-You know no more of whist, than he does of gardening. Lady Rac. Ha, ha, ha! [Takes out a glass, and settles her hair. Sir Cha. You're a vile woman, and I'll not sleep another night under the same roof with you. Lady Rac. As you please, sir. Sir Cha. Madam, it shall be as I please-I'll order my chariot this moment-[Going.] I know how the cards should be played as well as any man in England, that let me tell you-[Going.] And when your family were standing behind" counters, measuring out tape, and bartering for Whitechapel needles, my ancestors, madam, my ancestors were squandering away whole estates at cards; whole estates, my Lady Racket-[She hums a tune, and he looks at her.] Why, then, by all that's dear to me, I'll never exchange an other word with you, good, bad, or indifferent! -Look'e, my Lady Racket, thus it stood-the trump being led, it was then my business-- Lady Rac. To play the diamond, to be sure. Sir Cha. Damn it! I have done with you for ever, and so you may tell your father. [Exit SIR CHA. Lady Rac. What a passion the gentleman's in! ha, ha! [Laughs in a peevish manner.] I promise him, I'll not give up my judgment. Enter SIR CHARLES. Sir Cha. My lady Racket, look'e, ma'am― once more, out of pure goodnature Lady Rac. Sir, I am convinced of your goodnature. Sir Cha. That, and that only, prevails with me to tell you, the club was the play. Lady Rac. Well, be it so-I have no objec tion. Sir Cha. It's the clearest point in the worldwe were nine, and— Lady Rac. And for that very reason-You know the club was the best in the house. Sir Cha. There is no such thing as talking to father, you-You're a base woman-I'll part from you for ever; you may live here with your and admire his fantastical evergreens, till you grow as fantastical yourself-I'll set out for London this instant-[Stops at the door.] The club was not the best in the house. Lady Rac. How calm you are! Well!-I'll go to bed; will you come?-You had bettercome then-you shall come to-bed-not come to bed when I ask you?-Poor Sir Charles! [Looks and laughs, then exit. Sir Cha. That ease is provoking. [Crosses to the door where she went out.]-I tell you the diamond was not the play, and here I take my final leave of you-[Walks back as fast as he can]I am resolved upon it, and I know the club was not the best in the house. [Exit. |