Es. I must first be informed, sir, for what | nerally behind the scenes of both playhouses; purpose you drink them. Fine Gent. You must know, philosopher, I want to forget two qualities My modesty and my good-nature, Es. Your modesty and your good-nature! Fine Gent. Yes, sir-I have such a consummate modesty, that when a fine woman (which is often the case) yields to my addresses, egad I run away from her; and I am so very good-natured, that when a man affronts me, egad I run away too. Æs. As for your modesty, sir, I am afraid you are come to the wrong waters-and if you would take a large cup to the forgetfulness of your fears, your good-nature, I believe, would trouble you no more. Fine Gent. And this is your advice, my dear, eh? Es. My advice, sir, would go a great deal farther I would advise you to drink to the forgetfulness of every thing you know. Fine Gent. The devil you would! then I should have travelled to a fine purpose truly; you don't imagine, perhaps, that I have been three years abroad, and have made the tour of Europe? Es. Yes, sir, I guessed you had travelled, by your dress and conversation; but pray. (with submission) what valuable improvcinents have you made in these travels? Fine Gent. Sir, I learnt drinking in Germany, music and painting in Italy, dancing, gaming, and some other amusements, at Paris, and in Holland-faith, nothing at all; I brought over with me the best collection of Venetian ballads, two eunuchs, a French dancer, and a monkey, with tooth-picks, pictures, and burlettas-In short, I have skimm'd the cream of every nation, and have the consolation to declare, I never was in any country in my life, but I had taste enough thoroughly to despise my own. Es. Your country is greatly obliged to you; but if you are settled in it now, how can your taste and delicacy endure it? Fine Gent. Faith, my existence is merely supported by amusements; I dress, visit, study taste, and write sonnets; by birth, travel, education, and natural abilities, I am entitled to lead the fashion; I am principal connoisseur at all auctions, chief arbiter at assemblies, professed critic at the theatres, and a fine gentleman every where. Es. Critic, sir, pray what's that? Fine Gent. The delight of the ingenious, the terror of poets, the scourge of players, and the aversion of the vulgar. Es. Pray, sir, (for I fancy your life must be somewhat particular) how do you pass your time; the day, the day, for instance? Fine Gent. I lie in bed all day, sir. not, you may imagine, to be diverted with the play, but to intrigue, and shew myself--I stand upon the stage, talk loud, and stare about, which confounds the actors, and disturbs the audience; upon which the galleries, who hate the appearance of one of us, begin to hiss, and cry, off! off! while I undaunted stamp my foot sololl with my shoulder thus-take snuff with my right hand, and smile scornfully-thus-This exasperates the savages, and they attack us with vollies of sucked oranges, and half-caten pippins Es. And you retire. Fine Gent. Without doubt, if I am sober; for orange will stain silk, and an apple may disfigure a feature. Es. I am afraid, sir, for all this, that you are obliged to your own imagination, for more than three-fourths of your importance. Fine Gent. Damn the old prig, I'll bully him. [Aside.]-Look'e, old philosopher, I find you have passed your time so long in gloom and ignorance below here, that our notions above stairs, are too refined for you; so as we are not likely to agree, I shall cut matters very short with you-Bottle me off the waters i want, or you shall be convinced that I have courage in the drawing of a cork: dispatch me instantly, or I shall make bold to throw you into the river, and help myself.-What say you to that now, eh? Es. Very civil and concise!-I have no great inclination to put your manhood to the trial; so, if you will be pleased to walk in the grove there, till I have examined some I sec coming, we'll compromise the affair between us. Fine Gent. Yours, as you behave, au revoir! [Exit Fine Gent. Enter MR. BOWMAN, hastily. Bow. Is your name Æsop? Es. It is, sir, your commands with me? Bow. My Lord Chalkstone, to whom I have the honour to be a friend and companion, has sent me before, to know if you are at leisure to receive his lordship. Es. I am placed here on purpose to receive every mortal that attends our summons. Bow. My lord is not of the common race of mortals, I assure you; and you must look upon this visit as a particular honour, for he is so much afflicted with the gout and rheumatism, that we had much ado to get him across the river. Es. His lordship has certainly some pressing occasion for the waters, that he endures such inconveniences to get at them. Bow. No occasion at all-his legs indeed fail him a little, but his heart is as sound as ever, nothing can hurt his spirits; ill or well, his lordship is always the best company, and the mer riest in the family. Es. I have very little time for mirth and good | made use of by people of fashion: all disputes company; but I'll lessen the fatigue of his jour- about politics, operas, trade, gaming, horseney, and meet him half way. racing, or religion, are determined now by six to four, and two to one; and persons of quality are by this method most agreeably released from the hardship of thinking or reasoning upon any subject. Fow. His lordship is here already. There's a spirit! Mr. Esop. There's a great man! See how superior he is to his infirmities: such a soul ought to have a better body. Enter MERCURY with LORD CHALKSTONE. L. Chalk. Not so fast, Monsieur Mercury, you are a little too nimble for me.-Well, Bowman, have you found the philosopher? Bow. This is he, my lord, and ready to receive your commands. L. Chalk. Ha ha! ha! There he is, profecto!-toujours le meme: [Looking at him through a glass.] I should have known him at a mile distance- -a most noble personage indeed! and truly Greek from top to toe.-Most venerable Æsop, I am in this world, and the other, above and below, yours most sincerely. Es. I am yours, my lord, as sincerely, and I wish it was in my power to relieve your misfor tunc. L. Chalk. Misfortune! What misfortune? I am neither a porter nor a chairman, Mr. Esop; my legs can bear my body to my friends and my bottle; I want no more with them; the gout is welcome to the rest-eh, Bowman! Bow. Your lordship is in fine spirits! Es. Does not your lordship go through a great deal of pain? L. Chalk. Pain! aye, and pleasure too; eh, Bowman! when I am in pain, I curse and swear it away again, and the moment it is gone, I lose no time; I drink the same wines, cat the same dishes, keep the same hours, the same company; and, notwithstanding the gravity of my wise doctors, I would not abstain from French wines and French cookery, to save the souls and bodies of the whole College of Physicians Es. Very convenient, truly! L. Chalk. Convenient! aye, and moral too.- L. Chalk. I'll tell you how; when gentlemen Es. Most casuistically argued indeed, my lord-But how can it preserve family affec tions? L. Chalk. I'll tell you that too-An old woman, you'll allow, Mr. Æsop, at all times, to be but a bad thing-What say you, Bowman? Bow. A very bad thing indeed, my lord. L. Chalk. Ergo, an old woman with a good constitution, and a damned large jointure upon your estate, is the devil-My mother was the very thing-and yet from the moment I pitted her, I never once wished her dead, but was really uneasy when she tumbled down stairs, and did not speak a single word for a whole fortnight. Es. Affectionate indeed!-but what does your lordship mean by pitted her? L. Chalk. Tis a term of ours upon these occasions-I backed her life against two old countesses, an aunt of Sir Harry Rattle's that was troubled with an asthma, my fat landlady at Salthill, and the mad woman at Tunbridge, at five hundred each per annum: she out-lived them all but the last, by which means I hedged off a damned jointure, made her life an advantage to me, and so continued my filial affections to her last moments. Es. My lord has fine spirits indeed! [To BOWMAN. L. Chalk. You don't imagine, philosopher, that I have hobbled here with a bundle of complaints at my back. My legs, indeed, are something the worse for wear, but your waters, I suppose, cannot change or make them better for if they could, you certainly would have try'd the virtues of them upon your own-eh, Bow-them all; I never drink any but at Bath-I man? Ha, ha, ha! Bow. Bravo, my lord, bravo! Es. My imperfections are from head to foot, as well as your lordship's. L. Chalk. I beg your pardon there, sir; though my body's impaired, my head is as good as ever it was; and as a proof of this, I'll lay you a hundred guineas—— Es. Does your lordship propose a wager as a proof of the goodness of your head? Es. I am fully satisfied—and, in return, your lordship may command me. L. Chalk. None of your waters for me; damn came merely for a little conversation with you, and to see your Elysian Fields here-[Looking about through his glass.] which, by the bye, Mr. Æsop, are laid out most detestably-No taste, no fancy in the whole world!-Your river there-what d'ye call Es. Styx L. Chalk. Ay, Styx-why, 'tis as straight as Fleet-ditch You should bave given it a serpentine sweep, and slope the banks of it---The L. Chalk. And why not? Wagers are now-a-place, indeed, has very fine capabilities; but days the only proofs and arguments that are you should clear the wood to the left, and clump the trees upon the right. In short, the whole wants variety, extent, contrast, and inequality-[Going towards the orchestra, stops suddenly, and looks into the pit.] Upon my word, here's a very fine hah-hah! and a most curious collection of ever-greens and floweringshrubs L. Chalk. I beg your pardon there-No man has ever studied or drank harder than I have -except my chaplain; and I'll match my library and cellar against any nobleman's in christendom-shan't I, Bowman, eh? num, as their loving parents have done before them. Bow. Look there! my lord-I'll be hanged, if that is not your lordship's nephew in the grove. Æs. I dare swear it is. He has been here just now, and has entertained me with his elegant notions. Es. We let nature take her course; our chief entertainment is contemplation, which I L. Chalk. Let us go to him; I'll lay six to suppose is not allowed to interrupt your lord-four, that he has been gallanting with some ship's pleasures. of the beauties of antiquitity- -Helen or Cleopatra, I warrant you!-Egad, let 'Lucretia take care of herself; she'll catch a Tarquin, I can tell her that. He is his uncle's own nephew, ha, ha, ha! Egad, I find myself in spirits; I'll go and coquet a little myself with them. Bowman, lend me your arm; and you, William, hold me up a little-[WILLIAM treads upon his toes.]Ho! damn the fellow, he always treads upon my toes- -Eugh Bow. That you may, indeed, my lord; and I'll go your lordship's halves. Ha, ha, ha! Es. If your lordship will apply more to the first, and drink our waters to forget the last L. Chalk. What, relinquish my bottle! the devil shall I do to kill time then? Es. Has your lordship no wife or children to entertain you? -I shan't be able to gallant it this half hour. What-Well, dear philosopher, dispose of your waters to those that want it. There is no one action of my life, or qualification of my mind and body, that is a burden to me and there is nothing in your world, or in ours, I have to wish for, unless that you could rid me of my wife, and furnish me with a better pair of legs-Eh, Bowman!--Come along, come along. L. Chalk. Children! not I, faith; my wife has, for aught I know. I have not seen her these seven years Es. You surprise me ! We L. Chalk. "Tis the way of the world, for all that.- -I married for a fortune; she for a title. When we both had got what we wanted, the sooner we parted the better. did so; and are now waiting for the happy moment, that will give to one of us the liberty of playing the same farce over again;-eh, Bowman! Bow. Good, good; you have puzzled the philosopher. Es. The Greeks esteemed matrimonial happiness their summum bonum. L. Chalk. More fools they! 'tis not the only thing they were mistaken iu. My brother Dick, indeed, married for love; and he and his wife have been fattening these five and twenty years, upon their summum bonum, as you call it. They have had a dozen and a half of children, and may have half a dozen more, if an apoplexy don't step in, end interrupt their summum bonum-Eh, Bowman? Ha, ba, ha! Bow. Your lordship never said a better thing in your life. L. Chalk. 'Tis lucky for the nation, to be sure, that there are people who breed, and are fond of one another. One man of elegant notions is sufficient in a family for which reason, I have bred up Dick's eldest son myself; and a fine gentleman he is—is not he,Ɖow man? : Bow. A very fine gentleman, indeed, my lord. L. Chalk. And as for the rest of the litter, they may fondle and fatten upon summum bo Bow. Game to the last, my lord! [Exeunt LORD CHALKSTONE and BOWMAN. Es. How flattering is folly! His lordship here, supported only by vanity, vivacity, and his friend Mr. Bowman, can fancy himself the wisest, and is the happiest of mortals. Enter Mr. and MRS. TATOO. Mrs. Tat. Why don't you come along, Mr. Tatoo? what the deuce are you afraid of? Es. Don't be angry, young lady: the gentleman is your husband, I suppose? Mrs. Tat. How do you know that, eh?What, you an't all conjurers in this world, are you? Es. Your behaviour to him is a sufficient proof of his condition, without the gift of conjuration. Mrs. Tat. Why I was as free with him before marriage, as I am now: I never was coy or prudish in my life. Es. I believe you, madam; pray, how long have you been married? You seem to be very young, lady. Mrs. Tat. I am old enough for a husband, and have been married long enough to be tired of one. Æs. How long, pray? Mrs. Tut.Why above three months; I married Mr. Tatoo without my guardian's consent, Es. If you married him with your own consent, I think you might continue your affection a little longer. Mrs. Tat. What signifies what you think, I every body, and loves nobody; ridicules her if I don't think so? We are quite tired of friends, coquets with her lovers, sets them toone another, and are come to drink some of gether by the ears, tells fibs, makes mischief, your Le-Lethaly-Lethily, I think they call buys china, cheats at cards, keeps a pug dog, it, to forget one another, and be unmarried and hates the parsons; she laughs much, talks again. loud, never blushes, says what she will, does what she will, goes where she will, marries breaks his heart in four, becomes a widow, slips from her gallants, and begins the world againThere's a life for you! what do you think of a fine lady now? Es. The waters can't divorce you, madam; and you may easily forget him, without the as-whom she pleases, hates her husband in a month, sistance of Lethe. Mrs. Tat. Ay! how so? Es. By remembering continually he is your busband; there are several ladies have no other receipt-But what does the gentleman say to this? Mrs. Tat. What signifies what he says! I an't so young and so foolish as that comes to, to be directed by my husband, or to care what either he says, or you say. Mr. Tut. Sir, I was a drummer in a marching regiment, when I ran away with that young lady-I immediately bought out of the corps, and thought myself made for ever: little imagining, that a poor vain fellow was purchasing fortune, at the expense of his happiness. Es. Tis even so, friend; fortune and feficity are as often at variance, as man and wife. Es. Pray, madam, will you let me know what you call a fine lady? Mrs. Tat. Why, a fine lady, and a fine gentleman, are two of the finest things upon earth. Es. I have just now had the honour of knowing what a fine gentleman is; so pray confine yourself to the lady. Mrs. Tat. A fine lady, before marriage, lives with her papa and mamma, who breed her up till she learns to despise them, and resolves to do nothing they bid her; this makes her such a prodigious favourite, that she wants for nothing. Es. So, lady. Es. As I expected, you are very young, lady; and if you are not very careful, your natural propensity to noise and affectation will run you headlong into folly, extravagance, and repentance. Mrs. Tat. What would you have me do? Æs. Drink a large quantity of Lethe to the loss of your acquaintance; and do you, sir, drink another to forget this false step of your wife; for whilst you remember her folly, you can never thoroughly regard her; and whilst you keep good company, lady, as you call it, and follow their example, you can never have a just regard for your husband; so both drink and be happy. Mrs. Tat. Well, give it me whilst I am in the humour, or I shall certainly change my mind again. Es. Be patient, till the rest of the company drink, and divert yourself, in the mean time, with walking in the grove. Mrs. Tat. Well, come along, husband, and keep me in humour, or I shall beat you such an alarm as you never beat in all your life. [Exeunt MR. and MRS. TATOO. Enter Frenchman, singing. French. Monsieur, votre serviteur-Pourquoi ne repondez vous pas? je dis que je suis votre serviteur Es. I don't understand you, sir. French. Ah, le barbare! il ne parle pas François. Vat, sir, you no speak de French tongue? Es. No really, sir, I am not so polite. French. En verité, Monsieur Esop, you have not much politesse, if one may judge by your figure and appearance. Es. Nor you much wisdom, if one may judge of your head, by the ornaments about it. French. Qu'est cela douc? Vat you mean to front a man, sir? Es. No, sir, 'tis to you I am speaking. French. Vel, sir, I not a man! vat is you take me for? Vat I beast? vat I horse? par Mrs. Tat. When once she is her own mis- bleu ! tress, then comes the pleasure! Es. Pray let us hear. Mrs. Tat. She lies in bed all morning, rattles shout all day, and sets up all night; she goes every where, and sces every thing; kuows Es. If you insist upon it, sir, I would advise you to lay aside your wings and tail, for they undoubtedly eclipse your manhood. French. Upon my vard, sir, if you treat a gentilhomme of my rank and qualité comme ça, depend upon it, I shall be a litel en cavalier | owes money, should make the same demand, vit you. we should have no water left for our other cus Es. Pray, sir, of what rank and quality are you? French. Sir, I am a marquis François; j'entens les beaux arts, sir, I have been en advanturier all over the varld, and am a present en Angleterre, in Inglande, vere I am more honoré and caress den ever I was in my own countrie, or inteed any vere else—— Es, And pray, sir, what is your business in England? tomers. French. Que voulez vou que je fasse donc ? Vat must I do then, sir? Es. Marry the lady as soon as you can, pay your debts with part of her portion, drink the water to forget your extravagance, retire with her to your own country, and be a better economist for the future. French. Go to my own countré!Je vous demande pardon, I had much rather stay vere I am; I cannot go dere, upon my vardEs. Why not, my friend? French. Entre nous, I had much rather pass for one French marquis in Inglande, keep bonne compagnie, manger des delicatesses, and French. I am arrive dere, sir, pour polir la nation-de Inglis, sir, have too much a lead in deir heels, and too much a tought in deir head; so sir, if I can ligten bote, I shall make dem tout a fait François, and quite anoder ting. Es. And pray, sir, in what particular accom-do no ting at all; dan keep a shop en Provence, plishments does your merit consist? couper and friser les cheveux, and live upon soup and sallade de rest of my life Es. I cannot blame you for your choice; and if other people are so blind, not to distinguish the barber from the fine gentleman, their folly must be their punishment-and you shall take the benefit of the water with them. French. Sir, I speak de French, j'ai bonne addresse, I dance un minuet, I sing des littel chansons, and I have-une tolerable assurance: en fia, sir, my merit consist in one vard-I am a foreignere and entre nous-vile de Englis be so great a fool to love de foreignere better dan demselves, de foreignere vould still be more French. Monsieur Esop, sans flatterie ou great a fool, did dey not leave their own coun- compliments, I am your very humble serviteur terie, vere dey have nothing at all, and come-Jean Frisseron en Provence, ou Le Marquis to Inglande, vere dey vant for nothing at all, de Pouville en Angleterre. [Exit Frenchman. pardie- - Cela n'est il pas vrai, Monsieur Es. Shield me and defend ine! another fine Æsop? Es. Well, sir, what is your business with me? French. Attendez un peu, you shall hear, sir -I am in love vit de grande fortune of one Englis lady; and de lady, she be in love with my qualité and bagatelles. Now, sir, me vant twenty or tirty douzains of your vaters, for fear I be obligé to leave Inglande, before I have fini dis grande affaire. Es. Twenty or thirty dozen! for what? French. For my crediteurs; to make them forget de vay to my lodgement, and no trouble me for de future. Es. What, have you so many creditors! French. So many! begar I have them dans tous les quartiers de la ville, in all parts of de town, fait Es. Wonderful and surprising! French, Vonderful! vat is vonderful-dat I should borrow money? Es. No, sir, that any body should lend it you French. En verité vous vous trompez; you do mistake it, mon ami: if fortune give me no money, nature gives me des talens; j'ai des talens, Monsieur Æsop; vech are de same ting-par example; de Englisman have de money, I have de flatterie and bonne addresse; and a little of dat from a French tongue is very good credit and securité for tousand pound-Eh bien donc sal I have dis twenty or tirty douzaines of your vater? Ouy, ou non? ! Es. 'Tis impossible, sir. lady! Enter MRS. RIOT. Mrs. Riot. A monster! a filthy brute! your watermen are as unpolite upon the Styx as upon the Thames-Stow a lady of fashion with tradesmen's wives and mechanics——Ah! what's this! Serbeerus or Plutus? [Seeing Æsor.] Am I to be frighted with all the monsters of this internal world! Es. What is the matter, lady? Mrs. Riot. Every thing is the matter, my spirits are uncomposed, and every circumstance about me in a perfect dilemma. Es. What has disordered you thus? Mrs. Riot. Your filthy boatman, Scarroon, there. Es. Charon, lady, you mean. Mrs. Riot. And who are you, you ugly creature, you? If I see any more of you I shall die with temerity. Es. The wise think me handsome, madam. Mrs. Riot. I hate the wise. But who are you? Æs. I am Æsop, madam, honoured this day by Proserpine with the distribution of the waters of Lethe. Command me. Mrs. Riot, Shew me to the pump room then, fellow-where's the company?--I die in solitude. Es. What company? Mrs. Riot. The best company, people of fashion! the beau monde! shew me to none of your gloomy souls, who wander about in your groves and streams;-shew me to glittering balls, |