Whit. What a terrible misfortune, friend Keckfey!" Keck. Not at all; the more tongue the better, fay I. Wid. When the wind changes I have no brogue at all, at all. But come, Mr Whittol, don't let us be vulgar and talk of our poor relations: It is impoffible to be in this metropolis of London, and have any thought but of operas, plays, masquerades, and pantaons, to keep up one's fpirits in the winter; and Ranelagh, Vauxhall, and Marybone fireworks, to cool and refresh one in the fummer.-La! la! la! (fings. Whit. I proteft fhe puts me into a fweat; we thall have a mob about us. Keck. The more the merrier, I fay-who's afraid? Wid How the people ftare! as if they never faw a woman's voice before; but my vivacity has got the better of my good manners. This, I fuppofe, this ftrange gentleman, is a near friend and relation; and as fuch, notwithstanding his apparance, I fhall always trate him, though I might diflike him upon a nearer acquaint ance. Keck. Madam, you do me honour; I like your franknefs, and I like your perfon, and I envy my friend Whittle; and if you were not engaged, and I were not married, I would endeavour to make myself agreeable to you, that I would-hugh! hugh! Wid And indeed, Sir, it would be very agraable to me; for if I fhould hate you as much as I did my first dare hufband; I fhould always have the comfort, that in all human probability my torments would not lalt long. Keck. She utters fomething more than monofyllables, friend; this is better than bargain: She has a fine bold way of talking. Whit. More bold than welcome! I am ftruck all of a heap! Wid. What are you low-fpirited, my dare Mr Whittol? When you were at Scarborough, and winning my affections, you were all mirth and gaiety; and now you have won me, you are as thoughtful about it as if we had been married fome time. Whit. Indeed, Madam, I can't but say I am a little thoughtful-we take it by turns; you were very forVOL. V. rowful B rowful a month ago for the lofs of your husband, and that you could dry up your tears fo foon naturally makes me a little thoughtful. Wid Indeed, I could dry up my tears for a dozen hufbands when I was fure of having a tirteenth like Mr Whittol; that's very natural fure, both in England and Dublin too. Keck. She won't die of a confumption; fhe has a fine full-ton'd voice, and you'll be very happy, TomHugh! hugh! Whit. O yes, very happy.. Wid. But come, don't let us be melancholy before the time: I am fure I have been mop'd up for a year and a half-I was oblig'd to mourn for my firft husband, that I might be fure of a fecond; and my father kept my spirits in subjection, as the best receipt (he faid) for changing a widow into a wife; but now I have my arms and legs at liberty, I muft and will have my fwing: Now I am out of my cage I could dance two nights together, and a day too, like any finging bird; and I'm in fuch fpirits that I have got rid of my father, I could fly over the moon without wings, and back again, before dinner. Blefs my eyes, and don't I fee there Mifs Nancy O'Flarty, and her brother captain O'Flarty? He was one of my dying Strephons at Scarborough-I have a very great regard for him, and muft make him a little miferable with my happiness. (curtfeys.) Come along Skips (to the fervants) don't you be goftring there; fhow your liveries, and bow to your mafter that is to be, and to his friend, and hold up your heads, and trip after me as lightly as if you had no legs to your feet. I fhall be with you again, Jontlemen, in the crack of a fan-O, I'll have a husband, ay, marry. [Exit finging. Keck. A fine buxom widow, faith! no acquaintance -delicate referve-mopes at home-forc'd into the air -inclin'd to a confumption-What a defcription you gave of your wife! Why fhe beats my Sally, Tom. Whit, Yes, and she'll beat me if I don't take care! What a change is here! I must turn about, or this will turn my head: Dance for two nights together, and leap leap over the moon! you shall dance and leap by your. felf, that I am refolv’d. Keck. Here he comes again; it does to fee her-You are in luck, Tom. my heart good Whit. I'd give a finger to be out of fuch luck. Wid. Ha! ha! ha! the poor captain is marched off in a fury: He can't bear to hear that the town has capitulated to you, Mr Whittol. I have promifed to introduce him to you: He will make one of my danglers to take a little exercife with me, when you take your nap in the afternoon. Whit. You fhan't catch me napping, I affure you. What a discovery and escape I have made! I am in a fweat with the thought of my danger! [Afide. Keck. I proteft, coufin, there goes my wife, and her friend Mr Mac Brawn. What a fine ftately couple they are! I must after 'em, and have a laugh with themnow they giggle and walk quick, that I may'nt overtake 'em. Madam, your fervant. You're a happy man, Tom. Keep up your fpirits, old boy. Hugh! hugh!-who's [Exit. afraid! Wid. I know Mr Mac Brawn extremely well-He was very intimate at our house in my first hufband'stime; a great comfort he was to me to be fure! He would very often leave his claret and companions for a little converfation with me: He was bred at the Dublin univerfity; and, being a very deep scholar, has fine talents for a tate a tate. Whit. She knows him too! I fhall have my house overrun with the Mac Brawns, O'Shoulders, and the blood of the Backwells: Lord have mercy upon me! Wid. Pray, Mr Whittol, is that poor fpindle-legg'd crater of a coufin of yours lately married? ha! ha! ha! I don't pity the poor crater his wife, for that agraable cough of his will foon reward her for all her fuffer ings. Whit. What a delivery! a reprieve before the knot was tied. (afide.) Wid. Are you unwell, Mr Whittol? I fhould be forry you would fall fick before the happy day. Your being in danger afterwards would be a great confolation to me, because I fhould have the pleafure of nurfing you myfelf. Whit. I hope never to give you that trouble, Madam. Wid. No trouble at all, at all; I affure you, Sir, from my foul, that I fhall take great delight in the occafion. Whit. Indeed, Madam, I believe it. Wid. I don't care how foon, the fooner the better; and the more danger the more honour: I fpake from my heart. Whit. And fo do I from mine, Madam. (fighs.) Wid. But don't let us think of future pleasure, and neglect the prefent fatisfaction. My mantua-maker is waiting for me to choose my clothes, in which I fhall forget the forrows of Mrs Brady in the joys of Mrs Whittol. Though I have no fortune myfelf, I fhall bring a tolerable one to you, in debts, Mr Whittol; and which I will pay you tinfold in tinderness: Your deep purfe, and my open heart, will make us the envy of the little grate ones, and the grate little ones; the people of quality with no fouls, and grate fouls with no cafh at all. I hope you'll meet me at the pantaon this evening. Lady Rantiton, and her daughter Mifs Nettledown, and Nancy Tittup, with half a dozen Maccaroonies, and two Savoury Vivers, are to take me there; and we pro pofe a grate deal of chat and merriment, and dancing all night, and all other kind of recreations. I am quite another kind of a crator, now I am a bird in the fields; I can junket about a week together: I have fine conftitution, and am never molefted with your nafty vapours. Are you ever troubled with vapours, Mr Whittol? Whit. A little now and then, Madam. Wid. I'll rattle 'em away like smoke! there are no vapours where I come. I hate your dumps, and your nerves, and your megrims; and I had much rather break your reft with a little racketting, than let any thing get into your head that should not be there, Mr Whittol? Whit. I will take care that nothing fhall be in my head, but what ought to be there: What a deliverance! (afide.) Wid. (looking at her watch.) Bless me! how the hours of the clock creep away when we are plas'd with our company: But I must lave you, for there are half hundred people waiting for me to pick your pocket, Mr Whittol. And there is my own brother, Lieutenant O'Neale, is to arrive this morning; and he is fo like me,. you would not know us afunder when we are together; you will be very fond of him, poor lad! He lives by his wits, as you do by your fortune, and so you may affiit one another. Mr Whittol, your obadient, 'till we meet at the pantaon. Follow me, Pompey; and Skips, do follow him. you Pom. The Baccararo whiteman no let blacky boy go firft after you, miffis; they pull and pinch me. Foot. It is a fhame, your Ladyfhip, that a black negro fhould take place of English Chriftians-We can't fol low him, indeed: Wid. Then you may follow one another out of my farvice; if you follow me, you fhall follow him, for he fhall go before me : Can't I make him your fuperior, as the laws of the land have made him your equal? therefore refign as faft as you plafe; you fhan't oppofe government and keep your places too, that is not good po litics in England or Ireland either; fo come along Pom-1 pey, be after going before me-Mr Whittol, moft tinderly yours. [Exit.. Whit. Moft tinderly yours! (mimicks her.) 'Ecod I believe you are, and any body's elfe. O what an efcape have I had! But how fhall I clear myself of this buf nefs? I'll ferve her as I would bad money, put her off into other hands: My Nephew is fool.enough to be in love with her, and if I give him a fortune he'll take the good and the bad together-He fhall do fo or starve. I'll fend for Bates directly, confefs my folly, ask his pardon, fend him to my Nephew, write and declare off with the Widow, and fo get rid of her tinderness as faft as I can. [Exit. ACT |